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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/9812-8.txt b/9812-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6326c51 --- /dev/null +++ b/9812-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,8746 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of I Spy, by Natalie Sumner Lincoln + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: I Spy + +Author: Natalie Sumner Lincoln + +Posting Date: November 17, 2011 [EBook #9812] +Release Date: February, 2006 +First Posted: October 19, 2003 +[Last updated: October 29, 2020] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK I SPY *** + + + + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Mary Meehan and PG +Distributed Proofreaders + + + + + + + + + + + + I SPY + + BY NATALIE SUMNER LINCOLN + + 1916 + + + + +_To MRS. SARAH VAIL GOULD my grandmother to whose affection belongs many +joyous days of childhood at "Oaklands" this book is offered as a loving +tribute to her memory._ + + + + +CONTENTS + + I. AT VICTORIA STATION + + II. OUT OF THE VOID + + III. POWERS THAT PREY + + IV. "SHOULD AULD ACQUAINTANCE BE FORGOT?" + + V. AN EVENTFUL EVENING + + VI. AT THE CAPITOL + + VII. PHANTOM WIRES + + VIII. KAISER BLUMEN + + IX. THE SPIDER AND THE FLY + + X. SISTERS IN UNITY + + XI. A MAN IN A HURRY + + XII. A SINISTER DISCOVERY + + XIII. HIDE AND SEEK + + XIV. A QUESTION OF LOYALTY + + XV. THE GAME, "I SPY" + + XVI. AT THE MORGUE + + XVII. CIRCUMSTANTIAL EVIDENCE + + XVIII. A PROPOSAL + + XIX. THE YELLOW STREAK + + XX. THE AWAKENING + + XXI. THE FINGER PRINT + + XXII. "TRENTON HURRY" + + XXIII. IN FULL CRY + + XXIV. RETRIBUTIVE JUSTICE + + XXV. LOVE PARAMOUNT + + + + +LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS + + +"He saw Kathleen quickly palm his place card" + +"As Henry pushed back the door, she collapsed into her father's arms" + +"'A flash, the rifle's recoil--and Mr. Whitney still standing just +where he was'" + +"Whitney paused to snatch up a magnifying glass and by its aid examined +the finger prints" + + + + +CHAPTER I + +AT VICTORIA STATION + + +The allied forces, English and French, had been bent backward day by day, +until it seemed as if Paris was fairly within the Germans' grasp. Bent +indeed, but never broken, and with the turning of the tide the Allied +line had rushed forward, and France breathed again. + +Two men, seated in a room of the United Service Club in London one gloomy +afternoon in November, 1914, talked over the situation in tones too low +to reach other ears. The older man, Sir Percival Hargraves, had been +bemoaning the fact that England seemed honeycombed by the German Secret +Service, and his nephew, John Hargraves, an officer in uniform, was +attempting to reassure him. It was a farewell meeting, for the young +officer was returning to the front. + +"Much good will all this espionage do the Germans," said the young man. +"We are easily holding our own, and with the spring will probably come +our opportunity." He clicked his teeth together. "What price then all +these suspected plots and futile intrigues?" + +"Don't be so damned cocksure," rapped out his uncle, his exasperation +showing in heightened color and snapping eyes. "It's that same +cocksureness which has almost brought the British Empire to the very +brink of dissolution." + +His nephew smiled tolerantly, and shifted his thickset figure to a more +comfortable position. + +"Now, now," he cautioned. "Remember what old Sawbones told you yesterday +about not exciting yourself. Said you weren't to read or talk about this +bally old war. Leave the worrying to Kitchener; he'll see we chaps do +our part." + +"If everything were left to Kitchener!" Sir Percival thumped the arm of +his chair. "Some of us would sleep easier in our beds. And I know you +chaps at the front will do your part. Would to God I could be with you!" +glancing at his shrunken and useless left leg. "If I could only take a +pot at the beggars!" + +"According to your belief the firing line will shortly be on English +soil," chaffed his nephew, avoiding looking at his companion. He knew the +tragic circumstances surrounding his uncle's maimed condition, and wished +to avoid anything touching upon sentiment. + +"If the plans to undermine England's home government are perfected and +carried out, every man, woman and child will have to band together to +repel invasion." Sir Percival lowered his voice. "If there are any +able-bodied men left here." + +"Don't be so pessimistic. Kitchener has built up a great army, and is +only waiting the proper moment to launch it in the field." + +"The best of England has volunteered," agreed Sir Percival, "but what +about the slackers? What about the coal strikes--the trouble in our +munition factories? All are chargeable to the Kaiser's war machine which +overlooks nothing in its complete preparedness. Preparedness--England +doesn't yet know the meaning of the word." + +"It's time for me to leave," said the young officer, consulting his +watch. "Take my word for it, Uncle, we're not going to the demnition +bowwows--count on England's bulldog grit. God help Germany when the +Allies get into that country!" + +"When--ah, when?" echoed Sir Percival. "I hope that I live to see the +day. Tell me, boy," his voice softening, "how is it with you and Molly?" + +His nephew reddened under his tan. "Molly doesn't care for a chap like +me," he muttered. + +"Did she tell you so?" + +"Well, no. You see, Uncle, it--eh--doesn't seem the thing to suggest +that a charming girl like Molly tie herself to a fellow who may get his +at any time." + +"Piffle!" Sir Percival's shaggy eyebrows met in a frown. "Sentimental +nonsense! You and Molly were great chums a year ago. You told me yourself +that you hoped to marry her; I even spoke to her mother about the +suitability of the match." + +"You had no right to," blazed his nephew. "It was damned impertinent +interference." + +"You have not always thought so," retorted Sir Percival bitterly. "What +had that most impertinent American girl you met in Germany to do with +your change of front toward Molly?" + +"I must insist that you speak more respectfully of Kathleen." John +Hargraves' expression altered. "If you must know, I asked Kathleen to +marry me and--she refused." + +"I said she was impertinent. All Americans are; they don't know any +better," fumed his uncle. "Forget her, John; think of Molly. I tell you +the child loves you. Don't wreck her happiness for the sake of a +fleeting fancy." + +"Fleeting fancy?" John Hargraves shook his head sorrowfully. "When +Kathleen refused me I was hard hit; so hit I can't marry any other girl. +Don't let's talk of it." He smiled wistfully as he held out his hand. +"Time's up, Uncle; the train leaves in an hour, and I must get my kit. +Good-by, sir. Wish me luck." And before the older man could stop him he +was retreating down the hall. + +Sir Percival stared vacantly about the room. "The last of his race," he +muttered. "God help England! The toll is heavy." + +In spite of his haste John Hargraves was late in reaching Victoria +Station, and had barely time to take his place before the train pulled +slowly out. As he looked down the long trainshed, he encountered the +fixed stare of a tall, well-groomed man standing near one of the pillars. +Hargraves looked, and looked again; then his hand flew up, and leaning +far out of his compartment he shouted to a porter. But his message was +lost in the roar of the more rapidly moving train, and the porter, +shaking a bewildered head, turned back. + +The crowd of women and children and a few men, which had gathered to +witness the troop train's departure, was silently dispersing when an +obsequious porter approached the tall stranger whose appearance had so +excited John Hargraves. + +"Ye keb's out 'ere, sir," he said. "This way, sir," and as the stranger +made no move to follow him, he leaned forward and lifted the latter's top +coat from his arm. "Let me carry this 'ere for you, gov'ner," then in a +whisper that none could overhear, he said in German: "For your life, +follow me." + +"Go on," directed the stranger in English, pausing to adjust his cravat, +and made his leisurely way after the hurrying porter. The latter stopped +finally by the side of a somewhat battered-looking limousine. + +"'Ere ye are, sir," announced the porter, not waiting for the +chauffeur to pull open the door. "I most amissed ye," he rattled on. +"Kotched the keb, sir, an' tucked yer boxes inside, then I looked for +ye at the bookin' office, 'cording to directions. Let me tuck this +'ere laprobe over ye." + +As the stranger stepped into the limousine and seated himself the porter +clambered in after him. + +"They're on," he whispered, his freckles showing plainly against his +white face. "The chauffeur is one of us, he'll take you straight to our +landing. This packet's for you. Good luck!" And pocketing the sovereign +offered, the porter, voicing loud thanks, backed from the limousine and +slammed the door shut. + +The outskirts of London were reached before the man in the limousine +opened the slip of paper thrust into his hand by the porter. It was +wrapped about a small electric torch and a book of cigarette papers. +Slowly he read the German script in the note. + +Be at the rendezvous by Thursday. Hans, the chauffeur, has full +directions. Do not miss the seventeenth. + +After rereading the contents of the note the man tore it into tiny bits +and, not content with that, stuffed them among the tobacco in his pipe. +Striking a match he lighted his pipe and planting his feet on the bag he +gazed long and earnestly at his initials stamped on the much labeled +buckskin. The slowing up of the limousine aroused him from his +meditations, and he glanced out of the window to see which way they were +headed. London, the metropolis of the civilized world, lay behind him. +Catching his chauffeur's backward glance, he signaled him to continue +onward as, removing his pipe, he muttered: + +"_Gott strafe England_!" + + + + +CHAPTER II + +OUT OF THE VOID + + +Slowly, the sullen roar of artillery, the rattle of Maxims and rifles +sank fitfully away. A tall raw-boned major of artillery stretched his +cramped limbs in the observation station, paused to look with callous +eyes over the devastated fields before him, then sought the trench. +Earlier in the day the Allies had been shelled out of an advance position +by the enemy and had fallen back on the entrenchments. + +"Devilish hot stuff, shrapnel," commented a brother officer as Major +Seymour stopped at his side. + +The Major nodded absently, and without further reply advanced a few paces +to meet an ammunition corporal who was obviously seeking him. "Well?" he +demanded, as the non-commissioned officer saluted. + +"Only twenty rounds left, Major." The Corporal lowered his voice. +"Captain Hargraves sent word to rush reinforcements here as soon as it is +dark, sir." + +Major Seymour glanced with unconcealed impatience at his wrist watch. +God! Would night never come! + +"Can't we get our wounded to the base hospital, Major?" asked a +younger officer. He had only joined the unit thirty-six hours before +and while he had faced the baptism of fire gallantly, the ghastly +carnage about him shook his nerve. He was not fed up with horrors as +were his brother officers. + +"The wounded would stand small chance of reaching safety if the German +gunners sighted them. They must wait for darkness," replied Seymour. +"Here, take a pull at my flask. Got potted yourself, didn't you?" +noticing a thin stream of blood trickling down his companion's sleeve. + +"Only a flesh wound--of no moment," protested the young man, flushing at +the thought that his commanding officer might have misunderstood his +question. "I'm afraid Captain Hargraves is in a bad way." + +"Hargraves!" The Major spun on his heel. "Where is he?" + +"This way, sir," and the Lieutenant led him past groups of men and +officers. It was an appalling scene of desolation. The approach of night +had brought a slight drizzling rain, and the ground, pitted with shell +holes, was slimy with wet, greasy mud. Nearly all the trees in the +vicinity were blasted as if by lightning, and along the right hand side +of the road was a line of A.S.S. carts and limbers blown to pieces. One +horse, completely disemboweled, lay on his back, the inside arch of his +ribs plainly showing. His leader was a mass of entrails lying about, and +on the other side lay four or five more, one with a foreleg blown clear +off at the shoulder, one minus a head. A half-dozen motor cycles and over +a dozen push bikes lay in the mud with some unrecognizable shapes that +had been riding them. Between the advance trenches, in No Man's Land, the +ground was thickly strewn with corpses of Scotties killed in the charge. + +"The Huns had us cold as to range," volunteered the Lieutenant, loss +of blood and reaction from excitement loosening his tongue. "They +outed five guns complete with detachments by direct hits. Here we are, +sir," and he paused near a demolished gun emplacement. The ground +about was a shambles. + +Major Seymour stepped up to one of the figures lying upon the ground, +a mud-incrusted coat thrown over his legs. Several privates who had +been rendering what assistance they could, moved aside on the +approach of their superior officers. Hargraves opened his eyes as +Seymour knelt by him. + +"My number's up," he whispered, and the game smile which twisted his +white lips was pitiful. + +"Nonsense." Seymour's gruff tone concealed emotion. Hargraves' face +betrayed death's indelible sign. "You'll pull through, once you're back +at the hospital." + +Hargraves shook his head; he realized the futility of argument. + +"Have you pencil and paper?" he asked. + +"Yes." Seymour drew out his despatch book and removed a page. "What is +it, John?" But some minutes passed before his question received an +answer, and Hargraves' voice was noticeably weaker, as he dictated: + +DEAR KATHLEEN: + +I saw Karl in London at Victoria Station. I swear it was he ... warn +Uncle ... Kathleen ... Kathleen ... + +There was a long silence; then Seymour laid aside the unneeded brandy +flask and slowly rose to his feet. He mechanically folded the scrap of +paper, but before slipping it inside his pocket, the blank side arrested +his attention. + +"Heavens! John never gave me her address or last name. Who is Kathleen?" +he exclaimed. + +More shaken than he was willing to confess even to himself, by the loss +of his pal, he stared bitterly across the battlefield toward the enemy's +lines. How cheerily Hargraves had greeted him that morning on his return +from a week's furlough in England! How glad he had been to rejoin the +unit and be once again with his comrades on the firing line! A gallant +spirit had passed to the Great Beyond. + +Back in his observation station Major Seymour an hour later viewed the +gathering darkness with satisfaction. Two hours more and it would be +difficult to see a hand before one's face. Undoubtedly the sorely needed +ammunition and reserves would reach the trenches in time, and the wounded +could be safely transferred to the base hospital. The Allies' line had +held, and in spite of their desperate assaults the Germans had been +unable to find a vulnerable spot. + +Seymour passed his hand over his eyes. Against the darkness his fevered +imagination pictured advancing "gray phantoms." "They come like demons +from the hell they have created," he muttered. "I hope to God they +don't use 'starlights' over our trenches tonight. Flesh and blood can +stand no more." + +The darkness grew denser and more dense. In the long battle front of the +Allies no sentinel saw a powerful Aviatik biplane glide over the trenches +and fly onward toward its goal. Several times the airman inspected his +phosphorescent compass and map, each time thereafter altering his course. +Finally, making a sign to his observer, he planed to a lower level and, +satisfied that he had reached the proper distance, a bomb was released. + +Down through the black void the infernal machine sped. A sickening +pause--then a deafening detonation, followed by another and another, cut +the stillness, and the earth beneath was aflame with light as the high +explosives and shells stored in the concealed ammunition depot were set +off. Nothing escaped destruction; flesh and blood, mortar and brick went +skyward together, and a great gash in the earth was all that was left to +tell the story of the enemy's successful raid. + +From a safe height the German airman and his observer watched their +handiwork. Suddenly the latter caught sight of an aeroplane winging its +way toward them. + +"Bauerschreck!" he shouted, and the airman followed his pointed finger. +Instantly under his skillful manipulation their biplane climbed into the +air in long graceful spirals until they were six thousand feet above +ground. But as fast as they went, their heavier Aviatik was no match in +speed for the swift French aeroplane, and the bullets from the latter's +machine gun were soon uncomfortably near. + +The German airman's face was set in grim lines as he maneuvered his +biplane close to his pursuer and, dodging and twisting in sharp dips and +curves, spoiled the aim of the Frenchman at the machine gun, while his +own revolver and that of his observer kept up a continuous fusillade. + +For twenty minutes the unequal fight continued. It could not last much +longer. Despair pulled at the German's heartstrings as he saw his +observer topple for a moment in his seat, then pitch forward into space. +The biplane tipped dangerously, righted itself and sped like a homing +pigeon in the direction of the German lines. There was nothing left but +to fly for it. The German dared not look behind; only by the mercy of God +were the Frenchman's shots going wild. It could not last; he must get the +range. Surely, surely they were past the last of the Allies' trenches? + +The German turned and fired his revolver desperately at his pursuers. +Glory to God! one of his bullets punctured the latter's gasoline tank. It +must be so--the French aeroplane was apparently making a forced landing. +The shout on the German's lips was checked by a stinging sensation in his +right side. The Frenchman had his range at last. + +Almost simultaneously his machine turned completely over. With groping, +desperate fingers the German strove to gain control over the levels and +right himself. In vain--and as he started in the downward rush, the +hurrying wind carried the frenzied whisper: + +"The cross, dear God, the cross!" + + + + +CHAPTER III + +POWERS THAT PREY + + +Not far as the crow flies from the scene of the German airman's +catastrophe, but with its presence hidden from general knowledge, was +the Grosses Hauptquartier, the pulsing heart and brain of the Imperial +fighting forces. Vigilant sentries patrolled the park leading from the +chateau commandeered for the use of the War Lord and his entourage, to +the quarters of the Great General Staff. In a secluded room of the +latter building a dozen men sat in conference about a table littered +with papers; they had been there since early evening, but no man +permitted his glance to stray to the dial of a library clock whose hands +were gradually approaching two o'clock. Truly, the chiefs of the +divisions were tireless toilers. + +The Herr Chief of the Great General Staff was emphasizing his remarks +with vigor unusual even for him, when the telephone, no respecter of +persons, sent out its tinkling call. Hitching his chair closer to the +table, the Herr Chief of the Aviation Corps removed the receiver from +the instrument. A courteous silence prevailed as he took the message. +Replacing the receiver, he turned and confronted his confrères. + +"An outpost reports," he began formally, "that Captain von Eltz in his +Aviatik biplane was pursued and wrecked by a French airman who was +obliged to make a forced landing inside our lines. The French airmen were +shot in their attempt to escape. Owing to the Aviatik biplane catching in +the branches of a tree and thereby breaking his fall Captain von Eltz was +rescued alive, although desperately wounded. The observer who accompanied +him is dead. On regaining consciousness Captain von Eltz reported that +his mission was successful, the new ammunition depot having been +completely destroyed by his bomb." + +A low hum of approval greeted his words. "Well done, gallant von Eltz!" +exclaimed one of the hearers. "He deserves the Iron Cross." + +"He will receive it," declared another officer enthusiastically. + +"The information as to the location of this new ammunition depot, which +von Eltz has just destroyed, came from the man of whom I have been +telling you tonight," broke in the Herr Chief of the Secret Service. "He +has been our eyes and ears in England. Gentlemen, is it your wish that he +be intrusted with the delicate mission of which we have just been +speaking?" + +The eyes of the Herr Chief of the Great General Staff swept his +companions. "Is it that I speak for all?" A quick affirmative answered +him. "Then, we leave the matter entirely in your hands." The Herr Chief +of the Secret Service bowed. "You know your agents; the selection is left +to you, but see there is no unnecessary delay." + +"There will be no delay," responded the Herr Chief of the Secret Service. +"My agent is not far from here. With your permission, I take my leave," +and saluting he hastened from the room. + +The sun was halfway in the heavens when a limousine drew up before a +wayside inn near a semi-demolished city. Before the orderly sitting by +the chauffeur could swing himself to the ground, a tall man had stepped +to the side of the car and opened the door. For a second the Herr Chief +of the Secret Service and the stranger contemplated each other without +speaking, then the former motioned to the vacant seat by his side. + +"We can talk as we ride," he announced brusquely. "Your luggage--" + +"Is here," thrusting a much labeled suitcase inside the limousine and +jumping in after it. + +At a low-toned word from the Herr Chief of the Secret Service the orderly +saluted and quickly resumed his seat by the chauffeur. There was a short +silence inside the limousine as the powerful car continued up the road. +They were stopped at the first railroad crossing by a trainload of +wounded soldiers. + +"Your pardon," and before the Herr Chief of the Secret Service could stop +him, the stranger pulled down the sash curtains of all the windows. "You +are well known; being recognized is the penalty of greatness. It is to my +interest to escape such a distinction." + +"I approve your caution, Herr Captain," observed the older man. "Will you +smoke?" producing his cigarette case, and as the other smilingly helped +himself and accepted a lighted match, he surveyed him critically. Paying +no attention to his chief's scrutiny, the Secret Service agent +contemplated the luxurious appointments of the limousine with +satisfaction and puffed contentedly at his cigarette. His air of breeding +was unmistakable, but the devil-may-care sparkle in his gray-blue eyes +redeemed an otherwise expressionless face from being considered heavy. +The spirits of the Herr Chief of the Secret Service rose. His +recollection and judgment was still good; his agent, by men and women, +would be deemed extremely handsome. + +"The new ammunition depot was destroyed last night by our airmen," he +said, with some abruptness. "Your information was reliable." + +"Pardon, is not my information always reliable?" interpolated the Secret +Service agent. + +"So it has proved," acknowledged his chief cordially, but a mark was +mentally registered against the Herr Captain. German bureaucracy does not +tolerate presumption from a subordinate. "And owing to your excellent +record, you have been selected for a most delicate mission." + +"Under the same conditions?" + +"The Imperial Government cannot be questioned," retorted his chief, his +anger rising. + +"I am different from other operatives." A puff of cigarette smoke +wreathed upward from the speaker's lips. "A free-lance." + +"And you have been given a free hand. We have not inquired into your +methods of procuring information, being content with the result." + +"And does not the result justify not only your confidence but promotion?" + +The Herr Chief of the Secret Service considered before replying; then he +answered with a question. + +"Have you been to Ireland?" + +The Secret Service agent smiled grimly as he took from his pocket a book +of cigarette papers. Counting them over, he selected the seventeenth +paper, and passed it to his companion, who examined the small blank sheet +with interest. "Just a moment," and the young man again slipped his hand +into a vest pocket, this time bringing out a nickel flashlight. Pressing +his thumb on the switch he held the glass bulb against the rice paper. In +a few minutes a faint tracing appeared on the blank page, which grew +brighter as the rays of light generated more heat. + +"Hold it a moment," said the Herr Chief of the Secret Service. "Keep it +over the bulb," and taking out his notebook he made several entries, then +closed it with a snap. + +"Finished?" As he asked the question, the Secret Service agent replaced +his pocket flashlight, drew out his tobacco pouch, poured a little in the +rice paper, and proceeded to roll the cigarette with practiced fingers. + +"About Sheerness?" questioned the Herr Chief of the Secret Service. + +"All is arranged." + +"Good." The Herr Chief of the Secret Service permitted himself to settle +back more comfortably on the roomy seat so that he faced his companion. +In the closed and semi-darkened limousine there was no danger of their +conversation being overheard. + +"I reserved for myself, Herr Captain," said the Herr Chief slowly, "the +pleasure of informing you that your valuable services to the Kaiser and +the Fatherland"--the Secret Service agent raised his hat--"are +recognized. The Cross may yet be yours." + +"How can I express my gratitude?" stammered the Secret Service agent. + +"By not jumping to hasty conclusions," smiled his chief. "Never again +question your orders." + +"Be just," protested the Secret Service agent warmly. "I have risked my +life daily for the Kaiser and the Fatherland in a hostile country. There +have been hours which I do not care to remember." The speaker's tone grew +husky. "Some day--a short shift; and I must make provision for another." + +"I understood you were not married?" + +There was a barely perceptible pause. "Spies do not marry, sir." + +"And if a Secret Service agent has a healthy regard for his own safety, +he is careful of serious entanglements," cautioned his chief. "However, +judging by your past work, I believe you are quite able to take care of +yourself. Thanks to the warnings and information of your organization we +have been able to meet some of the Allies' contemplated concerted +attacks, and your information as to the sailing of transports and the +movements of ammunition trains has been of inestimable service." + +"Do you still wish me to keep up this particular work?" + +"No." The Herr Chief of the Secret Service leaned forward in his +earnestness. "This war has demonstrated again and again that victory goes +with the heaviest artillery." + +"True! Antwerp, one of the strongest fortified cities on the Continent, +crumpled up before our siege guns," broke in his companion. + +The older man paid no attention to the interruption, but continued +gravely: "Hand to hand conflict and cavalry charges are a thing of the +past. We shell out the enemies' trenches from batteries six to twelve +miles away. All this you already know; I repeat it now to explain what I +am about to say. We are in possession of the mining district of France, +they are getting hard pushed for ammunition; England's supply is not +inexhaustible; Russia cannot half arm her fighting forces. They one and +all are appealing to the manufacturing capitalists of the United States +to furnish them with arms and ammunition." + +"And with success," dryly. + +The Herr Chief of the Secret Police frowned. "It must be stopped. You are +to go to America--" + +"I?" + +"Yes, at once. You have a genius for organization; your work in England +proved that. Let us know what merchant vessels and passenger steamers are +carrying munitions of war. Be sure, doubly sure, that your information is +correct, for we shall act upon it. Our Government stands ready to take +most drastic measures to stop such traffic." + +"I see." The Secret Service agent stroked his clean-shaven chin in +meditative silence. "In England I went hand in hand with death; in the +United States I am likely to outlive my usefulness." + +"Perhaps," with dry significance. "But recollect our Government is ready +to adopt _any_ expedient to stop the exporting of arms and ammunition to +our enemies." + +"As for instance--?" + +"Leave our methods to us; you have your work. You will make your +headquarters at Washington City. There you will be able to place your +hand on the pulse of the nation, and there you will find--idle women." + +"Have we not already representatives at the United States capital?" + +The Herr Chief of the Secret Service eyed him keenly. "Our embassy is +concerned only with the diplomatic world. You are to send us word whether +the United States Government arsenals are working under a full complement +of men; of the orders placed by the Navy Department for submarines, and +the activities obtaining in private munition plants. Be certain and study +the undercurrent of sentiment for or against us. Report as you have +heretofore." + +"How am I to get in touch with the private shipyards and munition +plants?" + +"I will give you letters to residents loyal to their Fatherland. A number +of the owners of powder companies and munition plants usually winter in +Washington. I am also told that Mexican juntas still make Washington +their headquarters." The eyes of the Secret Service agent were boring +into him, but the older man's countenance remained a mask. "You must bear +in mind that if the American capitalists persist in selling assistance to +our enemies the attention of the United States must be diverted to other +issues...." + +"Such a plan could only be carried out by creating a necessity of +home consumption for war munitions," supplemented the Secret Service +agent softly. + +Without replying the Herr Chief of the Secret Service pulled forward a +small despatch-box from a cleverly concealed pocket in the upholstery of +the limousine. + +"We are motoring to your nearest destination," he said soberly, +opening the box. "Here are your letters of credit, your passport, and +introductions to our friends across the water," handing him a leather +wallet. "They will see that you are properly introduced to Washington +hostesses. Go out in society; I am told it is most delightful at the +Capital. Make friends with influential public men and prominent +Washingtonians. Above all," with emphasis, "cultivate the gentler +sex; remember, idle women make excellent pawns, my dear Herr Captain +von Mueller." + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +"SHOULD AULD ACQUAINTANCE BE FORGOT?" + + +Mrs. Winslow Whitney, gathering her wraps together, stepped from the +limousine. + +"I shall not need you again tonight, Henry," she said, as the chauffeur +sprang to the sidewalk to assist her. + +"Very good, ma'am," and touching his cap respectfully, he took from the +limousine the heavy fur laprobe and hastened to ring the doorbell for +his mistress. + +Halfway to her front door Mrs. Whitney paused to scan the outward +appearance of her home. The large, Colonial, brick double house, with +lights partly showing behind handsomely curtained windows, looked the +embodiment of comfort, but Mrs. Whitney heaved a sharp sigh of +discontent. The surroundings were not pleasing to her. Again and again +she had pleaded with her husband to give up the old house and move into a +more fashionable neighborhood. But with the tenacity which easy-going men +sometimes exhibit, Winslow Whitney clung to the home of his ancestors. It +had descended from father to son for generations, and finally to him, the +last of the direct male line. Although business had encroached and noisy +electric cars passed his door, and even government buildings dwarfed the +impressive size of the old mansion, he declined to give up his home, +stating that he had been born there and there he would die. + +"Very well, you and Providence can settle the point between you, Dad," +answered Kathleen, his only child, who had been brought in to use her +persuasive powers upon her irate parent. "But as long as mother and I +have to inhabit this old shell you must, simply must, put new works +inside her." + +And Whitney, with the generosity which marked his every action to those +he loved, rehabilitated and remodeled the mansion until it finally +rivaled in up-to-date completeness the more ornate homes of the newly +rich in the fashionable Northwest. + +"Has Miss Kathleen returned?" asked Mrs. Whitney, handing her wraps to +the breathless Vincent, who had hurried to answer the chauffeur's +imperious ring. + +"No, ma'am." + +"When she does return, tell her that I wish to see her." + +"Yes, ma'am." + +"Is Mr. Whitney in his studio?" + +"Yes, ma'am. Shall I send Julie to you?" + +"Tell her to go to my room and wait for me." As she spoke Mrs. Whitney +crossed the broad hall and, passing the Colonial staircase, entered the +elevator. The automatic car carried her to the first bedroom floor but, +changing her mind, she did not open the door; instead she pressed the +electric button marked "Attic." Her slight feeling of irritation aroused +by not being met downstairs by any member of her family was increased by +stepping from the elevator into a dark hall. + +"Winslow!" she called. Meeting with no response she walked over to the +opposite wall and by the aid of the light in the elevator found the +electric switch and turned it on. Not pausing to look about her, she went +to the back of the large high-roofed attic and tried the handle of a +closed door. Finding that it would not open to her touch, she rapped +sharply on the panel. She waited several seconds before she heard a chair +pushed back and the sound of advancing footsteps. The inside bolt was +shot back with distinct force. + +"Well, what is it?" demanded Whitney, jerking open the door. "Oh, my +dear," his tone changing at sight of his wife, "I had no idea you were +returning so soon." + +"Do you call half-past six o'clock soon?" asked Mrs. Whitney following +him into the room. "Winslow, Winslow, I warn you not to become too +absorbed in your work." + +Whitney laughed somewhat ruefully. "Does the kettle call the pot black? +What do you do but give up your time to the Sisters in Unity? I'm a +secondary consideration. There, there," noting his wife's expression. +"Don't let us dispute over trifles. I'm making headway, Minna--headway." + +"I congratulate you, dear." Mrs. Whitney laid a caressing hand on his +touseled gray hair. "I never doubted that you would. But, Winslow, such +complete absorption in your work is not healthy. The doctor has warned +you not to shut yourself up in this room for hours, and particularly that +you are not to lock your door on the inside. Remember your recent attacks +of vertigo." + +"McLane's an ass. The vertigo sprang from indigestion; hereafter, I'll be +more careful what I eat," he protested. "There's nothing the matter with +this room; it's well ventilated and heated. And I will lock my door--I +won't be interrupted by any jackass servant wanting to feed me +pap"--pointing scornfully toward the hall where a tray laden with a +teapot and tempting dishes stood on a table near the door. "Do you not +yet realize, Minna, that this is my life work?" With a sweeping gesture +he indicated the models, brass, wood, and wax, which filled every cranny +of the sparsely furnished room. + +Mrs. Whitney sighed. The room was her bugbear. She had dignified it with +the name of "studio," but it looked what it was--a workshop. Winslow +Whitney, considered in clubdom as a dilettante and known to scientists as +an inventor of ability, frowned impatiently as he observed his wife's air +of disapprobation. + +"My dear, we must agree to disagree," he said, lowering his voice. "My +brain is carrying too much just now; I cannot be confused by side issues. +Everything must wait until my invention is completed." + +"Is your daughter's welfare of secondary importance?" + +"What?" Whitney surveyed his wife in startled surprise, and her handsome +face flushed under his scrutiny. "What is the matter with Kathleen's +welfare? Do I illtreat her? Is she refused money? Do I make her spend +hours here helping me in this"--sarcastically--"sweatshop? Four years ago +she took up this fad of painting; you encouraged her at it--you know you +did," shaking an accusing finger at his wife. "You persuaded me to let +her study in Germany, and she hasn't been worth a button since--as far +as home comfort goes." + +"Winslow!" + +"It's true," doggedly. "Formerly she was willing and glad to help me with +my modeling, help me in making calculations, tracings--now she spends her +time philandering." + +"All young girls flirt, Winslow." + +"But Kathleen was always so shy," Whitney shook his head. "Now I'm asked +at the club if she isn't engaged to this man and that." + +"Will you never realize that Kathleen is exceptionally pretty, with the +gift of fascination?" + +"A dangerous power," said Whitney gravely. "I do not entirely approve of +the men whose attentions Kathleen encourages." + +"As for instance...." + +"Young Potter, and this Baron Frederic von Fincke--you know, Minna, I do +not approve of international marriages, and I am very glad that Kathleen +refused that Englishman, John Hargraves, whom she met in Germany...." + +"I sometimes wonder if she regrets," said Mrs. Whitney musingly. +"Kathleen hears from him occasionally--and at times she is so very odd in +her manner." + +"Humph! I hope not. I don't want her to be a war bride," retorted +Whitney. "And all Englishmen of family are at the front these days. You +don't think, Minna," with quickly suppressed nervousness, "that Kathleen +can be fond of Sinclair Spencer." + +"Sinclair Spencer?" echoed Mrs. Whitney. "Why he is double her age, and +besides, Winslow, his habits are not...." + +"I know," gloomily, as his wife paused. "I would certainly never give my +consent to such a marriage. But, Minna, he is forever hanging around +Kathleen and haunts this house." + +"So much so that Kathleen is heartily sick of him," said Mrs. Whitney +comfortingly. "She is not the girl to really care for a man of his +caliber. After all, Winslow," unable to restrain the dig, "you are +responsible for Sinclair Spencer's intimate footing in this house...." + +"Intimate footing? Nothing of the sort. Just because I employed him as my +patent attorney, you and Kathleen did not have to throw yourselves at +his head and have him sitting in your pockets." + +Mrs. Whitney laughed outright. "My dear Winslow, neither Kathleen nor I +encouraged him to come here. If you are afraid," her eyes twinkling, +"that Kathleen considers his attentions seriously, I will sound her on +the subject. And this brings me back to what I was going to say +originally; you must inquire about the men Kathleen meets. She is at the +impressionable age and as apt as not to pick up an undesirable _parti_." + +"Why didn't Kathleen remain a schoolgirl?" fumed Whitney. "Then we only +had to engage competent nurses and look up their references and our +responsibility ended." + +"Your responsibility is just beginning," said Mrs. Whitney cheerfully. +"By the way, the days are short, and Kathleen should be at home by five +o'clock at least; this is a rough neighborhood for a beautiful girl to +walk through unattended." + +"My forefathers found no fault with this neighborhood," replied Whitney +stiffly. "Then it was fashionable, now it is a good respectable business +section; and if dividends continue to dwindle you may thank your stars we +are in a business section--for convenience' sake. I will not give up this +house, Minna, even to please you." + +"Dear Winslow, don't excite yourself." Mrs. Whitney laid an affectionate +hand on his arm. "Remember Dr. McLane's advice ... and dinner will be +served in an hour. Please come down and get it while it is hot," and not +waiting to hear his halfhearted promise she walked from the room and +closed the door. It was some seconds before Whitney resumed his +interrupted work. + +"Only a little while now," he muttered--"only a little while." + +Before proceeding to her bedroom Mrs. Whitney sought the suite of rooms +which had been given to Kathleen on her coming of age two months before. +Finding the prettily decorated and furnished sitting-room empty she +walked into the adjoining bedroom and saw Kathleen sitting at her +dressing table. + +"What detained you?" she asked kindly, as the girl turned on her +entrance. + +"The symphony concert was not over until twenty-five minutes ago. Won't +you sit down, dear?" pulling forward a chair. "I must go on with my +dressing. My pink satin, Julie, thank you," as the French maid appeared. + +"Are you dining out tonight?" in surprise. "I thought you told me you had +no engagement for this evening." + +"I hadn't, mother. This invitation was quite unexpected," explained +Kathleen, arranging her hair with care. "On my return from the concert I +found this note from Miss Kiametia Grey asking me to fill a place and +prevent thirteen at her dinner tonight." + +"I see." Mrs. Whitney inspected the dainty note-paper and forceful +handwriting through her gold lorgnette. The word of Miss Kiametia Grey +was as the law of the Medes and Persians to her many friends, and Mrs. +Whitney had a high regard for the wealthy spinster who cloaked her +warm-hearted impulsiveness under an erratic and often brusque manner. +"You cannot very well refuse. Who sent you those orchids?" pointing to a +handsome bouquet lying half out of its box on the bed. + +"Sinclair Spencer," briefly. "Be careful, Julie, don't muss my hair," +and discussing unimportant matters Kathleen hurried her dressing as much +as possible. + +"Not knowing you were going out I told Henry he would not be needed +tonight," said Mrs. Whitney, suddenly waking up to the fact that Kathleen +was ready to go. "You had better order a herdic." + +"Oh!" Kathleen gazed at her blankly. "And the dinner is at the Chevy +Chase Club." + +"Pardon, madame," Julie, the maid, spoke in rapid French. "Mademoiselle +Grey telephoned to ask if mademoiselle had returned and said that she +hoped she could dine with her. Knowing madame had no engagement this +evening, I took the great liberty of telling Henry to be here with the +limousine." + +"Quite right, Julie," Mrs. Whitney rose. "Don't forget your orchids, +Kathleen." + +"I am not going to wear them; they"--not meeting Mrs. Whitney's +eyes--"they would stain my dress. Good night, mother. I am likely to be +late; don't either you or Dad wait up for me." + +An hour later, her naturally rosy cheeks a deeper tint from the +consciousness that she was late, Kathleen made a charming picture as she +stood just within the entrance to the assembly room of the Chevy Chase +Club, waiting to greet her hostess who was at that moment marshalling her +guests out to the private dining-room. It was several minutes before Miss +Kiametia Grey discovered Kathleen's presence. + +"So very glad you could come," she said, squeezing her hand warmly. "Not +only did I want to be helped over the thirteen bugaboo, but I have such a +nice dinner partner for you. Captain Miller. Yes, Judge, you are to take +me out. Kathleen, introduce yourself to the Captain." + +"Am I to find him by the process of elimination?" laughed Kathleen, as +Miss Kiametia laid her hand on the Judge's arm. + +"He is just back of you," she called, and Kathleen turned around. Every +vestige of color left her cheeks as she encountered the steadfast gaze of +a tall, broad-shouldered man in immaculate evening dress. + +"You?" she blurted out, her white lips barely forming the word. "_You_?" + +There was an agonizing pause, then Captain Miller stepped toward her. + +"Suppose we go out to dinner," he suggested suavely. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +AN EVENTFUL EVENING + + +While keeping up an animated conversation with Judge Powers, Miss +Kiametia Grey saw with inward perturbation that her vis-à-vis, Captain +Miller, was spending much of his time between courses making bread +pellets. What possessed Kathleen Whitney? She was usually the soul of +courtesy, and yet her hostess had not seen her address one word to her +dinner partner. Possibly Kathleen had taken offense at her off-hand +introduction to the handsome officer. But that was not like the +warmhearted, charming girl she had come to love and admire, and Miss +Kiametia ate her dinner with less and less relish as she tried to keep +up her end of the conversation and forget about the pair seated +opposite her. + +Captain Charles Miller had just finished helping himself to an ice when, +from the tail of his eye, he saw Kathleen quickly palm his place card. + +"Let us make it an exchange," he said, and reaching across her plate, +picked up the pretty hand-painted Japanese card bearing her name, and +slipped it inside the pocket of his white vest. + +For the first time that evening there was color in Kathleen's cheeks. + +"You have not lost your--" + +"Courage?" + +"Effrontery," she finished. "I cannot see that the years have brought +much change." + +"To you, most certainly not," and there was no mistaking the admiration +in his eyes. + +"I object to personalities." She paused. "And particularly on slight +acquaintance." + +Miller bowed. "It is my loss that we have not met before," and he did not +miss the look of relief that lighted her eyes for the fraction of a +second. Swiftly he changed the subject. "Who is the man glaring at us +from the end of the table?" + +"Baron Frederic von Fincke." Her manner was barely civil and that was +all. Under his heavy eyebrows Miller's eyes snapped. She should talk to +him, and he squared his broad shoulders. + +"I have already met the young girl sitting next him," he said, "and who +is her dinner partner?" + +"Captain Edwin Sayre, United States Army." + +"Of what branch of the service?" + +"Ordnance." + +"Is it true, Miss Kathleen," broke in the man seated on her right, "that +Captain Sayre has resigned from the army to take a position in the Du +Pont Powder Works?" + +"I believe so." + +"Is that not establishing a bad precedent, Mr. Spencer?" inquired Miller. +He had met the lawyer on his arrival before dinner. "Suppose other +officers follow his example, what will the army do in case of hostilities +with--eh--Mexico?" + +"Probably the officers will apply for active service." Sinclair Spencer, +glad of the pretext that talking to Miller gave him of bending nearer +Kathleen, turned his back on his dinner partner. That Kathleen had given +him her full attention throughout the dinner had partly compensated for +the fact that she was not wearing his orchids. It had been weeks since he +had enjoyed so uninterrupted a talk with her. That her manner was +distrait and her replies somewhat haphazard escaped him utterly. The +drive to Chevy Chase was both long and cold, and while waiting for Miss +Kiametia's other guests to assemble before he presented himself, he had +enjoyed more than one cocktail. That stimulant, combined with Miss +Kiametia's excellent champagne, had dulled his perceptions. "The officers +will be given their old rank," continued Spencer. "In the meantime they +will have gained most valuable experience." + +"There is really no prospect now of a war with Mexico." As she spoke +Kathleen looked anxiously across at Miss Kiametia, but her hostess showed +no disposition to give the signal for rising. Kathleen was aware by his +thick speech and flushed features that Spencer had taken more wine than +was good for him. She desired to ignore Captain Miller, but she was +equally desirous not to encourage Spencer's attentions. She moved her +chair back as far as she could from the table to avoid the latter's near +presence as he bent toward her. Deliberately she turned and continued her +remarks to Miller. "As soon as a fair election is held and a president +elected, he will be recognized by our Government." + +Miller laughed. "A fair election and Mexico are a contradiction of terms. +Trouble there is by no means over. I hope that you are not a +peace-at-any-price American?" + +"Indeed I am not," and Kathleen's eyes sparkled. "I am for peace +with a punch." + +Again Spencer cut into the conversation, but his condition was so +apparent that Kathleen shrank from him. "Miss Kathleen, give me firs' +dance," he demanded, as Miss Kiametia laid aside her napkin and pushed +back her chair. + +In a second Baron Frederic von Fincke was by her side, and with a sigh of +thankfulness Kathleen accepted his eager demand for a dance, and they +hastened into the assembly room, which, stripped of its furniture, was +already filled with dancers. It was the regular Wednesday night dance at +the club and the room was crowded. Kathleen had no difficulty in avoiding +Captain Miller. Since her début she had reigned an acknowledged belle in +society, and she was quickly importuned by men eager for a dance. But as +she laughed and jested with her partners, she was conscious of lagging +time and numbing brain. Could she keep up the farce much longer? + +From one of the doorways Sinclair Spencer watched the gay scene with +surly discontent. An attempt to dance, while its result had no effect +upon his understanding, had caused his partner hastily to seek her +chaperon. His only ray of consolation was that she had not been Kathleen +Whitney. Come to think of it, she had never thanked him for his orchids. +The oversight worried him, and he was about to attempt to dodge the +dancers and cross the room in search of Kathleen when Baron von Fincke +stopped and addressed him. + +"She is very beautiful, your Miss Whitney," he said slowly. His English +was not fluent "But she has not the tact of her pretty mother. _She_ +would never have shown her avoidance of Captain Miller quite so plainly +as did Miss Whitney during dinner." + +"'Twasn't 'voidance," protested Spencer. "I cut him out." + +"Then why postpone your wooing?" The foreigner permitted no hint of his +secret amusement to creep into his voice as he glanced from Spencer to +where Kathleen was dancing. + +"Go-going to ask Kathleen tonight," replied Spencer, with drunken +dignity. "I'm no la-laggard. Speak to Whitney, too; though that isn't +important--he won't refuse." He cogitated darkly for a moment. "If he +does ... I'll make things hot for him...." + +"Hush!" Von Fincke laid a heavy hand on Spencer's shoulder as he looked +carefully about them; apparently no one was within earshot. "Collect your +wits. The time is not ripe for threats, Spencer. The invention is not yet +completed; until it is--no threats. We must not kill the goose before the +golden egg is laid." + +"Washn't makin' threats," stammered Spencer, startled by the angry gleam +in his companion's eyes. "Now, don't get mad, von Fincke, think of all +I've done in that Mex--" + +"Come this way," and with no gentle hand the foreigner propelled Spencer +down the hall out of sight of the guests and out of doors. + +Miss Kiametia Grey, enjoying watching the dancing as much as her guests +enjoyed participating in it, was interrupted in her desultory +conversation with two chaperons by one of the club attendants. Upon +receiving his message she made her way to where Kathleen and her partner +had just paused after a breathless extra. + +"Having a good time, dearie?" she questioned. "It is a shame to interrupt +your pleasure, but your father has telephoned that you must be at home by +midnight." + +"And your car waits, Cinderella," put in Spencer who, suddenly returning, +had overheard Miss Kiametia's remark. He had a particularly hard time +with the pronunciation of "Cinderella." + +The spinster favored him with a frown, and the back view of a sharp +shoulder blade. To her mid-Victorian mind Sinclair Spencer was not +conducting himself as a gentleman should, and her half-considered resolve +to drop him from her visiting list became adamantine as she observed his +appearance. Slipping her hand inside Kathleen's arm she led her to the +cloakroom. + +"Catch me asking fourteen to dinner again!" she exclaimed. "It always +dwindles to thirteen at the last moment, and I have a nervous chill until +the number is completed." + +"Whose place did I fill?" asked Kathleen, presenting her cloak check +to the maid. + +"Nobody's, to be quite candid," Miss Kiametia smiled ruefully. "My dinner +was originally twelve, but Captain Miller was so charming this afternoon +that I asked him on impulse, and then sent for you to pair off with him." + +"Thank you." The dryness of her tone was not lost on the spinster. There +were times when she wished to box Kathleen's ears. She was a born +matchmaker, and Kathleen's indifference to matrimonial opportunities was +a constant source of vexation to her. + +"Never saw two people look so ideally suited to each other," she snapped. +Kathleen started as if stung. "And I'm told mutual aversion is often a +good beginning for a romance. I never saw you discourteous before, +Kathleen; you simply ignored Captain Miller until dessert." + +"Possibly I had good reason." Kathleen's color rose. "Where, pray, did +you pick him up?" + +"Tut, tut! Don't forget you are talking to a woman nearly old enough to +be your mother." But Miss Kiametia's kind heart softened as she saw +Kathleen felt her words. "There, dearie, don't mind an old crosspatch. +Captain Miller was introduced to me by Senator Foster. You can see with +half an eye that Captain Miller is a gentleman born and bred. All ready? +Then I'll run back to my other guests. Come and see me Sunday," and with +a friendly wave of her hand, Miss Kiametia returned to the dining-room +where the dancers had adjourned for supper. + +Kathleen found her limousine waiting at the entrance, and bidding the +club attendant good-night she stepped inside the car, but as her +chauffeur started to close the door he was pushed to one side. + +"Fa-sher tele-telephoned I was to shee you home," announced Spencer, +striving to enunciate clearly. His haste and unsteady gait precipitated +him almost on top of the girl as he endeavored to seat himself by her +side. "D-don't get scared," placing a moist hand on her wrist. "Fa-sher's +orders. Ask H-Henry." + +The chauffeur touched his cap. "Mr. Whitney did telephone me to bring +Mr. Spencer back with you, Miss Kathleen," he volunteered, and +without waiting for further orders he banged to the door and climbed +into his seat. + +With an indignant exclamation Kathleen leaned over, seized the +speaking-tube and whistled through it. But apparently the roar of the +open throttle drowned the whistle, for Henry did not pick up his end of +the tube. As the car started down the drive a man jumped to the +running-board, jerked open the car door, and without ceremony pushed +Spencer into a corner and seated himself between the latter and Kathleen. + +"Hope I didn't keep you waiting, Miss Whitney," he apologized. "Sorry to +have been late." + +Kathleen shrank back. She did not need the light from the lamp at the +entrance of the club grounds to tell her the intruder was Captain Miller. +She was too well acquainted with his voice. A voice she had hoped never +to hear again. + +Spencer, considerably shaken by the force Miller had used in thrusting +him back against the side of the car, muttered a string of curses, which +ended abruptly as Miller's elbow came in sharp contact with his ribs. + +Too bewildered for speech, Kathleen rested her head against the +upholstered back of the limousine. Neither of the men seemed inclined to +break the silence as the car sped swiftly toward Washington, and +gradually Kathleen's reasoning power returned to her. She was furiously +angry with herself, with the world, with Fate. Ah, she _would_ be +mistress of her own fate. Kathleen compressed her lips in mute +determination. Captain Miller must be made to understand that she would +not tolerate his further acquaintance. How dared he thrust his presence +upon her? Kathleen's hot anger cooled for a second; if Miller had not +thrust himself into the limousine she would in all probability have +either had to order Henry forcibly to eject Spencer, which might have +given rise to unpleasant gossip, or have endured alone the intoxicated +man's society for the five-mile drive into town. + +High-power arc lights were strung along the roadway, and under their +white glare Kathleen stole a glance at Miller. Handsome still, she +admitted to herself, and the same broad-shouldered, athletic figure. He +was the type of man which appeals to both men and women. She caught her +breath sharply as bitter memories crowded upon her, and slipping down her +hand, drew her skirts surreptitiously away from touching Miller. If he +noted the movement he gave no sign. + +As the lights of Washington appeared, the chauffeur reduced the +limousine's speed to that required by law. They were in the heart of the +resident section when a snore from Spencer explained his long silence. +The warmth and motion of the limousine, combined with his overindulgence +in wine, had lulled him to sleep. With an effort Kathleen roused herself +from her dismal reflections. + +"Can I leave you anywhere, Captain--Miller?" she inquired frigidly. + +"No thanks, I will walk to my hotel after I have seen you safely home." + +Kathleen fumbled with the clasp of her evening wrap and stared down the +empty streets. She waited until they were approaching Lafayette Square, +then broke her silence for the second time. + +"I desire that you leave me here," she stated calmly. "I am now within a +few blocks of my home." Without waiting for comment she leaned forward, +tapped upon the front window, and signaled Henry to stop. + +Miller rose as the limousine drew up to the curb. "As you wish," he said +courteously. "But I do not think this man a suitable companion for you," +and collaring Spencer, he opened the door and, thrusting the still +sleeping man out on the pavement, sprang out after him. + +Henry's eyes bulged as he saw the two men, but Miller's manner stopped +the ejaculation upon his lips. + +"Take Miss Whitney home," directed Miller, and lifting his hat to +Kathleen he watched the limousine turn a corner and disappear. Then he +glanced down at Spencer sprawling on the pavement. A queer smile lighted +his face as he stared at the lawyer. + +"What's your little game, Spencer?" he asked softly, and a hearty kick +punctuated the question. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +AT THE CAPITOL + + +Mrs. Whitney's usually placid disposition was decidedly ruffled, and she +took no pains to conceal her displeasure. + +"Really, Kathleen, you are greatly at fault," she said, as the girl +joined her in the vestibule. "The idea of keeping Henry at the Club until +after midnight! No wonder he is late now. No chauffeur can work both day +and night." + +"I'm sorry, mother," but Kathleen did not look particularly penitent; she +considered that the faithful Henry had a soft berth. That he worked +occasionally would not prove harmful. She had hoped to avoid going to the +Capitol that morning, and when told that Henry had not appeared either at +the house for orders or at the garage, she had supposed the trip would be +given up. But Mrs. Whitney was of the persevering kind, and with her to +plan was to accomplish. Decidedly upset by Henry's non-appearance in her +well conducted household, she had ordered the garage to fill his place +temporarily, and her limousine was at last at the door. + +Mrs. Whitney was giving her final direction to the new chauffeur as to +which she considered the best and safest route to the Capitol and the +speed she wished maintained, when her husband joined them. + +"I've decided to take a morning off and go with you," he announced, +entering the limousine. "Room for me on the back seat?" + +"Surely," and his wife patted the wide cushion. "We do not possess a +superabundance of flesh in this family." + +"Except Dad," interpolated Kathleen mischievously. She knew her father +disliked the idea of getting fat, while lacking the initiative of keeping +thin. "What you need, Dad, is a cold plunge and a ten-mile walk before +breakfast." + +Whitney shuddered. "Nice comfortable ideas you have, Kathleen, for a +winter day. It strikes me you should take a dose of your own medicine." +Inspecting her keenly. "Late hours do not improve your appearance, +young lady." + +"Thanks," but her usually sunny smile was strained. "And I suppose you +still work all night, Dad, disobeying Dr. McLane's orders." + +"I don't take orders from McLane," shortly. "And I didn't work very late +last night. Your mother came up and tried some of her Sisters in Unity +persuasion upon me, and I capitulated." + +Mrs. Whitney did not take the jest in good part. While she reveled in +society, she was essentially a clubwoman, and nothing delighted her so +much as debating and delivering addresses. She was a capital +extemporaneous speaker, and had held prominent offices in different +clubs. Possessing no sense of humor, which her husband and Kathleen had +in abundance, she seriously objected to their poking fun at her beloved +organization, the Sisters in Unity, of which she was a charter member. +Any allusion to it in fun she considered an offense in good taste. +Therefore withdrawing into dignified silence she permitted Whitney and +Kathleen to keep up the conversation. In fact, Whitney did most of the +talking, and neither he nor his wife perceived Kathleen's inattention. + +"I'm on the high road to solving the last problem," he exulted. "The +invention is simple, so very simple, but, Minna, it will revolutionize +many things in warfare. You won't be ashamed of your old Dad, Kathleen, +when the world acknowledges what I've done." + +"I'm proud of you now, and always have been," affirmed Kathleen, and +leaning over she placed a spray of lilies-of-the-valley from her bouquet +in his buttonhole. + +"Who sent you the flowers, Kathleen?" inquired Mrs. Whitney. + +"I don't know; I could find no card or note with them." + +"Perhaps Sinclair Spencer has decided to send them anonymously." With a +look of repugnance, Kathleen pulled the flowers off and before her father +could interfere, opened the door and tossed the bouquet into the street. +"Good gracious, Kathleen, don't take everything that I say literally!" +exclaimed Mrs. Whitney. "I am sorry I suggested...." + +"I am not, mother. After last night, nothing would induce me to wear +his flowers again," declared Kathleen with spirit. "Father, what made +you tele--" + +"Here we are," broke in Whitney, apparently not hearing Kathleen's +remark, as the limousine drew up at the entrance to the Senate side of +the Capitol. "Jump out, Kathleen. Careful, Minna." But without assistance +Mrs. Whitney sprang lightly to the ground, a worried look on her face. + +"I do believe, Winslow," she said, "that I have left my admission card to +the private gallery at home. It isn't in my bag." + +"Don't mind, I'll look up Randall Foster; he'll see we get in. Come +this way." + +They found the corridors of the huge building filled with hurrying men +and women, and Whitney spent fully twenty minutes before he succeeded in +obtaining the coveted card to the private gallery from his friend, +Senator Foster. To Mrs. Whitney's dismay they found the gallery filled; +but fortune favored them, for just after their entrance three women +seated in the front row rose and made their way out. With a quickness +which showed her familiarity with conventions Mrs. Whitney pounced upon +the seats, and sank into hers with a sigh of thankfulness. She had +overcome a number of obstacles that morning to get there, and though it +was a small matter she hated to be thwarted in anything she undertook. + +Kathleen, like many another Washingtonian, confined her visits to the +Capitol to sightseeing trips with out-of-town friends, and she had come +there that morning only because she could think of no good reason for +staying away. To her inward surprise she soon found her attention +absorbed by the debate going on in the Senate, and when one of the +distinguished lawmakers commenced a characteristic speech she became +unconscious of the flight of time. As the Senator ended his fiery +peroration, she raised her head and, glancing toward the Diplomats' +Gallery, recognized Captain Charles Miller sitting in the front row +regarding her. + +"Have you seen Medusa's head?" asked Whitney, tugging at her elbow. "Wake +up, Kathleen, unless you've been turned into marble. Your mother's told +you three times that Senator Foster has invited us to lunch with him. She +is waiting for us in the corridor. Come along." + +As they joined Mrs. Whitney, a young man hurried up to them. "I am +Senator Foster's secretary," he explained. "The Senator has gone direct +to the dining-room on the ground floor. This way, please," and he piloted +them to an elevator. On reaching the private dining-room of the Senate +they found not only Foster but Miss Kiametia Grey awaiting them. + +"This is my lucky day," exclaimed Foster, heartily. "First, you tell me +your wife and Miss Kathleen are here, Whitney; then I meet Kiametia on +the way to the gallery." Mrs. Whitney smiled covertly. The Senator's +courtship of the wealthy spinster was one of the most discussed topics in +smart society. "Couldn't resist the temptation to have you all lunch with +me," added Foster. "Won't you sit here, Mrs. Whitney," pulling out a +chair on his right, "and Kiametia," indicating the chair on his left, +"and Whitney next to you. Miss Kathleen, it's not etiquette to place +father and daughter together, but I have a stranger for your other hand. +Ah, here he comes...." + +Kathleen's back was to the entrance of the dining-room, but a sixth sense +warned her who the newcomer was, and her face was expressionless when +Foster introduced his friend, Captain Miller, to Mrs. Whitney and her +husband. After greeting Miss Kiametia, Miller stepped to Kathleen's side. + +"Good morning," he said quietly, and held out his hand. Kathleen drew +back, then good breeding mastered her indignation. A second later her +hand was laid in his and instantly withdrawn, but her fingers tingled +from his strong clasp. + +"Jolly party you must have had last night, Kiametia." Foster's cheery +voice enabled Kathleen to control her somewhat shaken nerves. "Telephoned +Sinclair Spencer to stop and see me this morning, but his servant said he +never showed up until noon today." + +"Kathleen pleaded guilty to a sleepless night," volunteered Mrs. Whitney, +to the girl's secret indignation. + +"It was the lobster," answered Miss Kiametia. "I tried to warn you not +to eat it, Kathleen." + +"Well, your lobster won't account for the non-appearance of Henry," +mourned Mrs. Whitney, her mind harking back to her own grievance. "How +d'ye do, Mrs. Sunderland," as an elaborately gowned woman swept by their +table, barely returning their greeting. + +"It is the regret of my life," announced Miss Kiametia, her eyes +twinkling, "that I never kept a photograph of Mrs. Sunderland taken when +she first came to Washington ten years ago. It would provide a study in +expression and expansion in social snobbery." + +Mrs. Whitney, conscious that she was perhaps rude by her silence, turned +to Captain Miller who had taken no part in the conversation. + +"Is this your first visit to Washington, Captain?" she inquired. + +"Yes, and I find its residents so delightful that I hope to +prolong my stay." + +"What did you think of the speech today?" broke in Foster. + +"Capital! The Senator is right; if this government ship purchase bill +goes through, the country will indeed be buying a quarrel." + +"Quite right," agreed Whitney, laying down his fork. "The only people +who fail to see it in that light are those advocating the bill's passage. +Every nation thinks the same." + +"Except possibly Germany," argued Foster. "She would probably try and +sell us the hundreds of interned ships in our seaports." + +"Well, why shouldn't she?" Miss Kiametia, with recollections of her +misgivings the night before, declined the lobster croquettes. "With the +German steamships and freighters interned here we should have a merchant +marine ready to our hand." + +"And thereby provide instant use for our navy," retorted Whitney. + +"Uncle Sam had better think twice before taking issue with the German +submarines," grumbled Miss Kiametia. + +Whitney's eyes lit with an angry sparkle, and he opened his mouth to +speak, but his wife gave him no opportunity. + +"Are you pro-German, Kiametia?" she asked in astonishment. + +"Well, I lean that way," admitted the spinster. "You know I'm named for +the sister of Pocahontas, and my drop of Indian blood gives me a good +memory. It strikes me that this nation is overlooking the American +Revolution, not to mention 1812, and I also recollect that England did +not show us particular friendship during the Civil War." + +"The idea of waving the bloody shirt of '76!" exclaimed Kathleen. "For +shame, Miss Kiametia! We Anglo-Saxons must stand together. And another +thing: Germany may have wiped the Belgians off the map, but she's lodged +them in every American heart." + +"And we'll wake up some day and find the Germans sitting in Canada," +retorted Miss Kiametia. "Looking at U. S." + +"'Over the garden wall,'" quoted Whitney laughing. "No, no, Kiametia. +Wave the bloody shirt, but don't try to scare us with a straw man." + +"Straw or not, the Kaiser is the world's bogy man. He has taught us a +lesson in preparedness which this country will be slow to imitate." + +"Uncle Sam is a good disciplinarian but a poor student," acknowledged +Whitney, fingering the table ornaments nervously. "Well, Foster, I've +enjoyed myself immensely, but there's work awaiting me at home, and I +really must run along." + +Mrs. Whitney, talking placidly with Captain Miller, looked considerably +taken aback by her husband's precipitancy. Hastily draining the last drop +of her demi-tasse, she added her thanks and good-byes, and followed her +husband and Kathleen from the room. + +"I'll walk home," announced Kathleen, as Whitney signaled to their +chauffeur. "It will do me good, I need a constitutional." + +"But--but it's over a mile," protested Mrs. Whitney. + +"All the better," and waving her muff in farewell, Kathleen hastened off +through the grounds in the direction of Pennsylvania Avenue. She found +the cold invigorating air a bracing tonic after the steam-heated +atmosphere of the Capitol, and was thoroughly enjoying her walk when she +became conscious that a figure was keeping pace with her. Looking up, she +recognized Captain Miller. Kathleen stopped. + +"Which way are you going?" she demanded, totally unconscious of the +pretty tableau she made, her dark beauty enhanced by a becoming hat and +silver fox furs. Not anticipating her abrupt halt, Miller was forced to +retrace his footsteps. + +"I spoke to you twice, Miss Whitney, but you apparently did not hear me," +he answered, lifting his hat. "I asked if I might accompany you, and took +silence for consent. My way lies your way." + +Kathleen's fingers clenched tightly together inside her muff. "Are you +dead to all sense of decency?" she asked. "Can you not see that your +presence is an offense?" + +Miller's color rose, and there was an ominous flash in his blue-gray +eyes, but she met his look undauntedly. "I think you take an exaggerated +view of the matter," he said quietly. "I desire your friendship." + +"You dare ask that after...." + +With a quiet masterful gesture Miller stopped her. "We are living in the +present," he said. "I repent the past. Come"--with deepening earnestness, +"you are warm-hearted, impulsive, generous--be generous to me--give me a +chance to make good. Before God, I will not fail you." + +Kathleen scanned him keenly. Could she place faith in his sincerity? +As she met the penetrating glance she knew of old, now softened by the +fascination of his winning smile, she came again under the old +personal charm. + +"I cannot be friends with a man whom I do not respect," she stammered. + +"But you shall respect me," with dogged determination, "and then...." + +A bevy of girls, coming out of Galt's, paused to greet Kathleen, and +Miller, not waiting to complete his sentence, bowed to her and continued +up the Avenue. He paid no attention to the streets he traversed, but on +turning into F Street sought shelter near a shop to light his cigarette. +As he threw the burnt match to the pavement he was attracted by a large +photograph of Kathleen Whitney in the window. It was an excellent +likeness, and Miller, studying the clear-cut features, the lovely eyes, +and soft rippling hair, felt his heart throb. He glanced at the sign +above the window and found he was standing before Edmonston's +Photographic Studio. On impulse he entered the building. + +Miller's absorption in Kathleen's photograph had not gone unnoticed, and +when he emerged from the studio, the observer accosted him. + +"Beg pardon, sir, I'm Henry, Mr. Whitney's chauffeur," he said. "Mr. +Spencer, sir, was much put out to wake up this morning, sir, and find +himself in a strange hotel." + +"Better that than being registered 'drunk and disorderly,'" smiled +Miller. + +"Yes, Captain Miller. I told him, sir, that you had done him a service." + +"Ah, indeed? May I ask how you know who I am?" + +"I made out you'd have trouble with Mr. Spencer, sir, and as soon as I'd +left Miss Kathleen at home, sir, I ran the car back down by the park, +sir, just in time to see you leading Mr. Spencer into the hotel. The +doorman there gave me your name, sir." + +"I see," replied Miller thoughtfully. "I lunched with Mr. Whitney today, +and it was mentioned that you had not shown up," and his eyes were guilty +of a peculiar glint as he scrutinized the intelligent face and finely +proportioned figure of the chauffeur. + +Henry reddened. "I wasn't feeling very well in the night, sir, and +overslept," he explained. "Eh, Captain," as Miller turned away. "I saw +you looking, sir, at Miss Kathleen's picture. Did you get a copy in +Edmonston's?" + +"No," curtly. + +"I thought not, sir. They never part with their photographs in there, +sir. But there's an extra one in Mr. Whitney's library, sir, which I +could ... could...." he stopped abruptly as he met Miller's gaze. + +After a pause Miller slipped his hand into his pocket and on pulling it +out disclosed a gold coin lying in his bare palm. "I see you are +amenable to reason, Henry," he said serenely, and the chauffeur +stammered his thanks. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +PHANTOM WIRES + + +Sinclair Spencer walked up and down the Whitney drawing-room examining +the costly bric-a-brac, totally blind to the merits of each piece and in +several instances replacing them with entire disregard as to whether they +rested on the edge, or on firm foundation. His occupation was interrupted +by the return of Vincent, the butler. + +"Miss Kathleen is not at home, sir," he announced. + +"Quite certain, Vincent?" holding out a treasury bill with a +persuasive gesture. + +"Quite, sir." Vincent looked offended, but slipped the large tip in his +pocket with inward satisfaction. He saw Spencer's crestfallen appearance +and thawed. "Julie, the maid, says Miss Kathleen hasn't returned from the +Red Cross meeting, sir, but that she's liable to come in 'most any time." + +"Well, perhaps--is Mr. Whitney at home?" + +"Yes, sir; but I dassent interrupt him, sir. He's working in his studio." + +"Then I'll wait here for a time, at least. Don't wait, Vincent" + +"Very good, sir." But Vincent paused irresolutely. His conscience was +reproaching him. Miss Kathleen's orders had been very explicit; if Mr. +Spencer called to see her father, well and good; if he came to see _her_, +he was not to be admitted. + +For six weeks the seesaw had kept up, and Vincent had grown weary of +answering the door for Spencer. He had been an almost daily caller, +occasionally admitted when Winslow Whitney was downstairs, and always a +visitor on Mrs. Winslow's weekly day at home. But these latter visits had +profited him nothing. Kathleen never gave him an opportunity to see her +alone, and it was the same at dinners and dances to which they were both +invited. Spencer had come there that morning fully determined to see +Kathleen and, as he expressed it to himself, "have an understanding with +her." Having for once gotten by Vincent's relaxed guard, wild horses +would not have dragged him away. + +Vincent's harassed expression altered to one of relief as he heard the +front doorbell sound, but his feelings underwent a change when he saw +Kathleen standing in the vestibule instead of Mrs. Whitney, who had +announced that she would return early as she was walking and not using +the limousine. + +"Any mail for me in the noon delivery?" asked Kathleen, and her smile +faded at the butler's negative reply. Why did her letters to England +remain unanswered? John Hargraves was the promptest of correspondents, +and the question she had asked him required an answer. Preoccupied with +her own thoughts, she was about to enter the elevator totally oblivious +to Vincent's agitated manner. As she placed her hand on the elevator +door, Sinclair Spencer walked into the hall. + +"How are you?" he said, his off-hand salutation concealing much +tribulation of spirit. Vincent caught one glimpse of Kathleen's face and +discreetly vanished. + +"Do you wish to see my father, Mr. Spencer?" asked Kathleen, utterly +ignoring his outstretched hand. + +"No. I came expressly to see you," and his air of dogged determination +was not to be mistaken. Kathleen came to a sudden decision. + +"Suppose we go into the drawing-room," she suggested. "I can spare you a +few minutes." But once in the room she did not sit down. "Why do you wish +to see me, Mr. Spencer?" + +"To ask you to marry me." Sinclair's usually florid face was white, and +his customary self-assurance had departed. + +"I thank you for the compliment," with icy politeness, "but I must +decline your proposal." + +"You--you refuse?" Spencer spoke as in a dream. + +"Yes. Surely, Mr. Spencer, you cannot have expected any other +answer--cannot have deluded yourself into thinking that I could possibly +accept you? I have tried in every means within my power to discourage +your attentions." + +"But why?" Spencer's air castles were tumbling about his ears, but he +stuck to his guns. His affection for Kathleen, fanned by her +indifference, had become all-absorbing. Courted and flattered by mothers +with marriageable daughters, he had come to believe that he had but to +speak to win Kathleen. + +"Why discuss the matter further?" asked Kathleen. She heartily wished the +scene over; it had not been of her seeking. To wantonly hurt another's +feelings was alien to her nature, and that Spencer was suffering his +demeanor betrayed. + +"I must." Spencer came a step nearer. "Tell me why you refuse me." + +"Your habits ..." + +"I haven't touched a drop of wine since that dinner at Chevy Chase," +triumphantly. "And if you don't approve, I'll not take another drink as +long as I live." + +"I certainly think it would be better for you to stick to that +resolution." Kathleen moved toward the hall door. "I really do not see +any object in prolonging this discussion." + +"But I do," following her. "I have perhaps startled you by my abrupt +manner. I do love you, Kathleen"--his voice shook--"love you better than +anybody. I know that I can make you care for me. I have money ..." + +"That makes no difference." + +"With you, perhaps not," but Spencer looked dubious. "I swear never to +touch wine again. I will gratify your every wish"--Kathleen shook her +head, and he added heatedly, "What is there about me you don't like?" + +"I--I cannot tell--" Kathleen edged toward the door. "It's a case of +'Dr. Fell.'" + +"Fell?" Spencer turned red, his self-esteem pricked at last. "Is that +another name for Captain Miller?" with insolent significance. + +Kathleen stepped back as if struck. "I think it time to end this +conversation," she said, but her remark received no attention. + +"I see it all now," muttered Spencer. "Captain Miller has won your +affection." + +"He has not." The contradiction slipped from Kathleen with more vehemence +than she intended. Spencer brightened. In endeavoring to convince +herself, she had thoroughly convinced him. + +"You are not engaged to him?" he asked eagerly. + +"Certainly not." Kathleen crimsoned with indignation. How dared Sinclair +Spencer catechise her! "I must insist that you leave. And, Mr. Spencer, +please remember, I desire that you never again allude to your proposal of +marriage." + +"But I shall," doggedly. + +"Then our acquaintance will cease." Her manner even more than her words +roused Spencer to sudden wrath. + +"No, it won't," he retorted. "And I will make you--understand--make you +reconsider your refusal to marry me. Good morning," and without a +backward look he departed. + +Kathleen drew a long breath of relief as the front door closed behind +him. "Thank God, he's gone," she said aloud, unconscious that her words +were overheard. "He is insufferable. I cannot understand why father ever +encouraged him to come to the house." + +Rapid walking soon brought Spencer to the corner of Seventeenth and H +Streets, and hailing a taxicab he gave the chauffeur an address on +Nineteenth Street. Fifteen minutes later he was ushered into the presence +of Baron Frederic von Fincke. + +"And how is the excellent Mr. Spencer this morning?" asked von Fincke +genially, offering his guest a chair. + +Spencer, however, remained standing and disregarded the question as well +as the chair. + +"Who is this fellow, Charles Miller?" he asked in his turn. + +Von Fincke laughed softly. "Consult your 'Who's Who,' my dear friend; do +not come to me, an outsider." + +"You know why I come to you," with pointed accentuation. "I am determined +to find out Miller's antecedents, and I am convinced you can tell me if +you will." + +Von Fincke shook his head. "You overrate my powers," he insisted suavely. +"I have met Captain Miller as one meets any visitor to this cosmopolitan +city. My acquaintance extends no further than our meeting at Miss Grey's +dinner at the Chevy Chase Club six weeks ago." + +Spencer paused in indecision; for the moment, the foreigner's candid +manner disarmed his doubts. "Quite sure you can't find out about Miller?" +he persisted. + +"I can but question my few friends in Washington; their information of +Captain Miller may be of the vaguest. Why do you not apply to Senator +Randall Foster? He and the Captain are what you call--inseparable." + +"So they are, but I'm not going to Foster for anything." + +"No?" + +"_No!_" The repetition was almost a roar. Spencer's temper, always +uncertain, had been severely tried that morning, and was rapidly giving +way under the strain of bitter disappointment. "I ran up against Foster +in those Senate lobby charges, and of all the cantankerous--" He paused +expressively, then added, "I used to have a high regard for his sagacity +and business judgment until he lost his head over that Grey woman. +Because she don't choose to be decently civil, he's turned surly. You +wait! I'll bring them to time, and Kathleen Whitney also." + +"Ah!" + +"You may 'Ah!' all you wish, but I am going to marry that girl, in spite +of her refusal." + +"And how is that to be accomplished if you have not the young +lady's consent?" + +Spencer thrust his hands deep into his pockets and faced von Fincke +resolutely. "She idolizes her father; his word is law to her." + +"And you have his consent to the match?" + +"Not yet, but I mean to get it; if necessary, by moral suasion." + +"Gently, my dear Spencer, gently." Von Fincke held up a warning hand. +"Whitney must not be annoyed." + +"Indeed?" Spencer eyed his companion suspiciously. "And why not?" + +"His invention...." + +Spencer's laugh was not pleasant. "How do you know it isn't completed and +patent applied for?" + +"Is that so?" Von Fincke walked over to his desk and seated himself. +"Suppose we sit and talk...." + +"No," defiantly. "The time for talking has gone by. You know, I'll bet my +last cent that Whitney has patents pending in the United States Patent +Office for his invention. All this waiting for him to finish his work is +poppy-cock. Why are you protecting Whitney, unless he's your tool?" + +Von Fincke laughed. "You have strange ideas. Do sit and let us change +the topic of conversation." + +"I won't." Spencer strode to the door. "I've done with your dirty +work...." + +"Tut! tut!" Von Fincke, who had been leaning back in his revolving chair, +straightened up. "Your language, my dear friend, can be improved ..." + +"And so can my knowledge," significantly. "I'm going to investigate +Whitney's affairs and his house before I'm much older. Don't bother to +ring for a servant," he added, seeing his host's hand hovering over the +electric desk bell, and not waiting for an answer, bolted from the room. + +Von Fincke's hand descended on the electric bell button with imperative +force, and rising he hastened into the hall. He paused at sight of his +breathless valet ushering Spencer down the staircase. Not until he was +thoroughly convinced that Spencer had left the house did he turn back +from the head of the stairs. + +"He grows troublesome, that Spencer," he mused as he made his way to his +own suite of rooms. + +An hour later Captain Charles Miller turned in at the main entrance of +his hotel and went directly to his room on the eighth floor. Humming +softly to himself he hung up his overcoat and hat in the closet, and +removing his coat placed that also on a hanger. Back once more in his +bedroom, he carefully arranged the heavy draperies over his window so +that his movements were completely screened, and taking a black silk +muffler fastened it securely over the knob of the hall door. The window +and door of his private bathroom were likewise draped. Finally satisfied +that he was secure from observation and all sound deadened, Miller took +from his overcoat pocket four porcelain castors, and dropping on his +knees by the side of his brass bed, he deftly inserted them in place of +the bed's regular steel castors. + +Pausing long enough to clear the toilet articles from his bureau, he +lifted from a box-shaped leather bag marked "Underwood" a Massie +Rosonophone and deftly installed it on the bureau top. Taking a slight +copper wire he attached it to one of the posts of the bed and connected +it with the apparatus, making sure that the wire was suspended clear of +the ground and surrounding objects. With another suspended wire he +grounded the apparatus on the radiator. + +At last convinced that all was adjusted properly, Miller moved over to +his desk and gazed intently at a large photograph of Kathleen Whitney. It +was an occupation of which he never tired. The faint buzz of the alarm +bell sent him back to the wireless apparatus, and slipping on his +headpiece telephone he picked up his pencil. Listening intently to the +dots and dashes, Miller took down the message passing through space. + +As he jotted down the last letter and the wireless apparatus ceased to +receive, Miller regarded the written coded message before him on his +writing pad with deep satisfaction. He was at last in tune with the +transmitting station. The code only remained to be solved. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +KAISER BLUMEN + + +Miss Kiametia Grey was having her last Tuesday at home before Holy Week, +and the drawing-room of her apartment was hardly large enough to hold all +her callers comfortably. She was assisted in receiving by several of her +friends, and Kathleen Whitney presided over the tea-table. + +Kathleen, chatting gayly with first one visitor and then another, was +unaware that with the passing of time her eyes strayed more and more +frequently to the hall doorway, nor was she conscious that they gained an +added brightness on perceiving Captain Charles Miller enter the room. + +Owing to the departure of other guests Miss Kiametia contented herself +with shaking Miller's hand warmly. "Come and talk to me later," she +called, and turned her attention to those waiting to say good-bye. But +she was not so absorbed as not to note Miller's progress down the +room. From the corner of her eye she saw him stop and speak to +Kathleen, accept a cup of tea, and walk over and seat himself on the +sofa by Mrs. Whitney. That Mrs. Whitney was pleased by the attention +was plain to be seen. + +"Hum!" chuckled the astute spinster to herself. "'Always kiss the blossom +when making love to the bud'--Captain Miller is nobody's fool." + +"Stop looking at Miller," admonished Senator Foster, standing by her +elbow. "Pay attention to me." + +"I will, if you will inform me who Miller is," she retorted. + +Foster looked at her oddly. "The Pied Piper, judging from the way you +women run after him," he grumbled. "Can't a good-looking man come to +Washington without being swamped with invitations?" + +"Sour grapes!" Miss Kiametia's kind smile took the sting from her words, +and Foster, whose looks were his sensitive point, laughed. "You haven't +answered my question." + +"He brought me letters from the president of a big munitions factory in +Pennsylvania," he answered readily. "I gather--mind you I know nothing +positively and must not be quoted...." + +"Quite so. Well, I'm no parrot." The spinster nodded her head +vigorously. "You're safe; go on." + +Again Foster hesitated. He knew Miss Kiametia dearly loved a morsel of +gossip, but he also knew that she could be trusted not to divulge matters +of real importance. He, as well as the other members of the set in which +the Whitneys and Miss Grey belonged, had observed Captain Miller's +attention to Kathleen, had noted the gradual thawing of her stiff manner +to him as the weeks went on, and he believed that Miss Kiametia's +questions were prompted by the affection she bore Kathleen. He also was +aware that the spinster cordially detested Sinclair Spencer and was +secretly elated at Kathleen's indifference to the lawyer's attentions. + +"I imagine Miller is here in the interests of the Allies," he said, +lowering his voice. "I know that he has entered into negotiations for the +purchase of war munitions, and that he is hoping to put through a deal +for certain cavalry horses. I am so positive that he is what he +represents himself to be that I have given him letters to influential men +in my State." + +"That possibly explains his many abrupt absences from the city," +commented Miss Kiametia sagely. "He has the habit of backing out of +dinner engagements at the eleventh hour. But tell me, do you know +nothing about the man's family--his character?" + +"Not a word. His letter of introduction was good, his business references +excellent, and so"--the Senator's gesture was expressive. "I had no idea +he would prove such a Beau Brummel when I introduced him to my Washington +friends." Foster turned and looked across the room at Miller. "I should +judge that he has seen service, his carriage is military." + +"He appears to be an American, but he has certain mannerisms"--Miss +Kiametia paused and, not completing her sentence, turned her attention +to other guests. After their departure she beckoned Foster to join her +by the door. + +"Captain Miller piques my curiosity," she whispered. "You say you +know nothing about his family--I am going to find out about his +character _now_." + +"How?" Foster looked mystified. "Where are you going?" as she moved +forward. "Remember, what I told you was confidential." + +"Trust me," and with a most undignified wink, Miss Kiametia sailed down +upon Mrs. Whitney and Captain Miller. "You can't escape me," she said to +the latter, as he rose on her approach. "You must come and be +victimized." + +"In what way?" + +"By my latest fad--palmistry. Come, Minna, we'll go into the library," +and laying a determined hand on Miller's arm she led the way into the +cozy room, followed by Mrs. Whitney and the highly amused Senator. +Miss Kiametia was a good organizer, and she marshalled her three +guests into seats by the library table, placing Miller between herself +and Mrs. Whitney. + +"Is this a séance?" inquired Kathleen, watching the group from the +doorway. Another of Miss Kiametia's receiving party had taken her place +at the tea-table. + +"Come and lend Captain Miller your moral support," called Miss Kiametia, +while his character is being divulged. "No, you are to sit still," as +Miller made a motion to rise. "Kathleen can stand behind us and prompt me +if my deductions go astray; she knows you better than the rest of us." + +Kathleen advanced with lagging steps into the room. She had turned +singularly pale, and Miss Kiametia, watching her closely, wondered if +she was taking the game seriously. She stopped just back of Miller's +chair and rested her hand lightly on Miss Kiametia's shoulder as the +latter pulled the electric lamp nearer so that its rays fell full upon +Miller's palm. + +"Has the size of the hand anything to do with the subject?" asked Miller, +as the spinster picked up a magnifying glass. + +"Don't make suggestions to the oracle," laughed Foster. "Go ahead, +Kiametia." + +"Your life line is good," pronounced the spinster, "but as it divides +toward the end you will probably die in a country different from that of +your birth." + +"Any particular time scheduled for the event?" questioned Miller, +skeptically, but Miss Kiametia ignored the remark. + +"This branch from the head line to the heart"--indicating it with a +slender paper-cutter--"denotes some great affection which makes you blind +to reason and danger." She paused irresolutely. "Pshaw! I'm reading from +the left hand, let me see the other...." + +"Isn't the one nearest the heart the surest guide?" inquired Miller. + +"It is not," with decision, and Miller, smiling whimsically, extended his +hand toward them. + +"The right hand of fellowship," he remarked, placing his palm directly +under the light. + +"My theory is correct." Miss Kiametia shot a triumphant look at Mrs. +Whitney. "There are always more lines in the right palm than in the left; +and see, here is a wider space between the lines of the head and +life--contact with the world, Captain Miller, has taught you +self-reliance, promptness of action, and readiness of thought. Hello, +what is that on your index finger--a half-moon?" + +"Yes." Miller smiled covertly; the spinster's seriousness amused him +immensely. "Isn't that according to Hoyle?" + +"No, nor according to Cheiro, either," tartly. "Hold your palm steady so +that I can see more clearly. It's a scar, isn't it?" + +"Yes." + +Mrs. Whitney and Senator Foster were closely following Miss +Kiametia's words, and neither saw the perplexed frown which wrinkled +Kathleen's forehead as she stared down at Miller's right hand. She +was distinctly puzzled. + +"The strength of your own individuality will carry you over many +obstacles," finished Miss Kiametia, giving Miller's hand a friendly tap +with the paper-cutter. + +"Read mine next," and Foster held out his right hand. + +"Haven't time; besides," the spinster's eyes twinkled, "I know your +character like a book. What is it, Sylvester?" as her colored butler +appeared, card tray in hand. "More visitors? Oh, yes, the Peytons--I +particularly want you to know them, Minna; no, you must not think of +leaving yet," and with her accustomed energy Miss Kiametia whisked Mrs. +Whitney into the drawing-room, Senator Foster following. As Kathleen +stepped toward the door, Miller stopped her. + +"Don't go," he pleaded, his voice, though low, vibrating with pent-up +feeling. "Kathleen, my beloved, don't go." + +She placed an unsteady hand on the portiere. "I must," she stammered. +"They need me...." + +"No, I am the one who needs you. My last chance of happiness lies in the +balance. Kathleen, give me a hearing." + +Slowly, reluctantly she turned in his direction. "Be wise, leave things +as they are...." + +"I cannot." Miller was white with the intensity of his emotion. "I love +you, love you." + +Kathleen's hand crept to her heart as if to still its wild throb. + +"Don't, don't"--she looked beseechingly at him. "Have you forgotten..." + +"Yes," boldly. "I only realize you are all in all to me." + +In the dead silence that followed the ticking of the small desk clock was +distinctly audible. + +"Why not leave well enough alone?" she begged, a trifle wildly. + +"Because I cannot stand it," huskily. "To see you day after day--Will +nothing I say convince or move you? Am I outside the pale of affection?" + +No answer. In the prolonged silence Miller's self-control snapped, and +stepping to her side he drew her in his arms. For a second she struggled +to release herself, then her strength gave way and she leaned limply +against him. + +"I am a fool, a fool to listen to you," she gasped, "but I--I--love you +now as I never did before." + +With a low cry of unutterable happiness Miller bent his head and their +lips met in a passionate kiss. + +The hall clock was chiming six when Mrs. Whitney and Kathleen reached +home. Not waiting for her mother, Kathleen ran upstairs and shut herself +in her own room. Without troubling to switch on the electric lights she +made her way to a chair by the window and flung herself into it. + +Love, the all-powerful, had conquered reason. Against her better judgment +she had pledged her faith to Charles Miller. Her heart throbbed high +with hope, and with dreamy, happy eyes she stared out of the window into +the darkness. Slowly she reviewed the events of the past six weeks. Never +intrusive, yet always by her side and at her beck and call, never at a +loss to do and say the right thing, Miller had wooed her in his own +masterful way, trampling down prejudice, suspicion, unbelief, until he +had gained his heritage--love. The specter of the past was +laid--involuntarily Kathleen shivered. + +"Is Mademoiselle here?" asked the French maid, peering in uncertainly +from the hall door. She had rapped repeatedly and getting no response +had gone downstairs to look for Kathleen, only to be told that she was +in her own room. + +"Come in, Julie, and turn on the electric switch," directed Kathleen, and +blinked as the room was suddenly flooded with light. Without rising she +removed her hat-pins and handed her hat and coat to the maid. "Just the +blue foulard tonight. What have you there?" + +"Some flowers, mademoiselle," handing the box to Kathleen. "Captain +Miller left them at the door himself, and seeing me in the hall asked +that I give them to you at once." With a Frenchwoman's tact she busied +herself in getting out the blue foulard and pretended not to see the +blush and smile which accompanied Kathleen's opening of the box. She did +not speak again, helping Kathleen with deft fingers to finish her toilet, +and then stood back to contemplate the effect. "Will mademoiselle attend +the meeting tonight?" she asked. + +"No, I am not a member of the Sisters in Unity. I had forgotten the club +was to meet here. Perhaps mother will need you now. Don't wait." + +But the Frenchwoman lingered. "Mademoiselle," she began. "Mademoiselle." + +"Yes, Julie." + +"_Pardon_". Turning abruptly, Julie opened the door and glanced up and +down the hall, then gently closed and locked it. With equal quietness she +bolted the sitting-room door. Watching her with growing curiosity +Kathleen saw that her comely face was white and drawn. + +"Listen, mademoiselle." The Frenchwoman was careful to keep her voice +low-pitched. "I dare to speak tonight--for France." + +"For France!" echoed Kathleen. + +"France." Julie's tone caressed the word. "My country needs your father's +invention--Ah, mademoiselle, do not let him sell it to another." + +"He will offer it first to our own Government." + +"Will he, mademoiselle? Ah, do not be offended," catching Kathleen's +swift change of expression. "I dare speak as I do--for France; think me +not disrespectful--but others wait to tempt your father." + +"Nonsense!" + +"I know what I know, mademoiselle. It has gotten abroad that Mr. Whitney +has completed his invention, that tests prove it successful--and, +mademoiselle, this house is watched." + +Kathleen looked at Julie incredulously. Had the maid taken leave of her +senses? Between nervousness and anxiety the Frenchwoman was trembling +from head to foot. + +"Warn your father, mademoiselle; he will listen to you." + +"I will," with reassuring vigor. "Tell me, Julie, what has aroused your +suspicion?" + +"Many things. When it creeps out that M. Whitney has succeeded, I say to +myself--the Germans, they will be interested. And I wait. Then madame +engages Henry...." + +"Henry? The chauffeur?" + +"But yes. I do not like Henry, mademoiselle. He is too much in the +house for a chauffeur; I meet him on the stairs, always on his way to +the attic with some message to M. Whitney who works in his studio +there. He laughs and teases me, that Henry, but wait!" Julie's eyes +were blazing. "And that Monsieur Spencer; I trust him not also. Ah, +mademoiselle, do not let him be closeted with your father--he is the +younger and stronger man." + +"Julie, are you quite mad?" exclaimed Kathleen, her eyes twice their +usual size. + +"No, mademoiselle. I watch; yes, always I watch and listen. Your father +did well to have iron shutters on the windows and new bolts on the door, +but he knows not that I am within call--on the other side of the door." + +"Upon my word!" Kathleen's brain was in a whirl. Was Julie's mind +unbalanced? She knew that the Frenchwoman's fiancé and two brothers had +been killed early in the war. Had grief for them and anxiety for her +beloved country developed hallucinations? One thing was apparent--it +would never do to disagree with her in her overwrought condition. +Kathleen laid her arm protectingly about her shoulders and gave her a +squeeze. She was very fond of the warm-hearted Frenchwoman. + +"Do not worry, Julie. I will see that father takes every precaution to +safeguard his invention." She hesitated. "I, too, sympathize deeply with +France." "God bless thee, mademoiselle." + +With a movement full of grace Julie raised Kathleen's hand to her lips, +then glided from the room, her slippers making no noise on the thick +carpet. + +Left alone Kathleen picked up her box of flowers and walked thoughtfully +into her sitting-room. Her interview with Julie had depressed her. As she +passed her desk she saw a note addressed to her lying on it, but +recognizing Sinclair Spencer's handwriting she tossed it down again +unopened. It would keep to read later. She walked over to the pier glass +and began to adjust the flowers which Miller had sent her. More +interested in his note which accompanied his gift, she had at first taken +them for violets, but looking more closely at the corsage bouquet she +found it contained cornflowers. Again she read his note: + +"MY DARLING: + +"I send you the harbinger of spring, of hope, of happiness. Ever fondly +your lover, + +"CHARLES." + +Back to Kathleen's memory came a vision of waving wheat in a field on the +outskirts of Berlin and scattered among the grain grew the +cornflower--_Kaiser blumen_. She raised her hand to her hot cheeks. How +came Miller to send her flowers which he knew were connected with that +past he so ardently wished forgotten? + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +THE SPIDER AND THE FLY + + +Whitney scanned the long drawing-room and library beyond in comic +despair. The furniture of both rooms, which opened out of each other, +had been carried into another part of the house, and in its place were +rows on rows of gilt chairs, while in the bow window stood an +improvised platform. + +"Can I get you a seat, sir?" asked Vincent, placing a pitcher of ice +water and tumblers on the speaker's table. + +"No, thanks; my days as parliamentarian are over, thank the Lord. I have +learned, Vincent, that when the Sisters in Unity hold an election it's +safer to be on the other side of the bolted door." + +"Yes, sir." Vincent removed a cherished Sevres vase from its customary +abiding place on the mantel and tucked it carefully under his arm. "Miss +Kathleen is looking for you, sir. I think I hear her in the hall now, +sir," and he hastened into the library as Kathleen stepped into the +drawing-room. + +"Where have you been since dinner, Dad? I went from the top of the house +to the bottom looking for you." + +"Had to go over to the drugstore to get a prescription filled. Can I do +anything for you?" + +"Yes. Come and spend the evening with me," she coaxed. + +Whitney laughed. "Can't, my dear. I have important work ahead of +me tonight." + +"It must wait until tomorrow," coaxingly, stroking his cheek softly. "I +don't like these lines, Dad. Your health is more to be considered than +your work." + +Whitney's air of tolerance turned to one of determination. "You are +wrong; my work is of primary importance. It's only a matter of hours now, +Kathleen; then I can loaf for the rest of my days." + +She shook her head. "Unless you take rest you cannot stand the strain. +Mother tells me you worked all last night and far into the morning." + +"My brain is clearer at night, and I have always required very little +sleep." He frowned with growing impatience. "There is no use discussing +the subject." He spoke in a tone which forbade further argument. + +"Dad," Kathleen lowered her voice and moved closer to him, "has it +occurred to you that--that people are unduly curious about your +invention?" + +Whitney eyed her keenly. "It has," he admitted tersely, "and I have taken +precautions." He stared at the clock and frowned impatiently. "Nearly +eight--the meeting will commence soon; let's get out of here." + +"Wait, Dad," Kathleen laid a restraining hand on his shoulder. "I cannot +bear to think of you alone in the attic--so far away from--" + +"Sisters in Unity--the very best of reasons for going to the attic--" + +"Let me come with you," eagerly. "I'll bring my own work and not say a +word to you. I'm nervous, Daddy, I--I don't want to be by myself +tonight--and there's something I want to--to--" her voice broke. + +Whitney glanced at Kathleen in surprise. What had come over her? + +"Oh, come along," he agreed roughly. "Only remember, I won't be tormented +with small talk." + +Kathleen's eyes brightened with relief as she accompanied him into the +hall. As they appeared the elevator door opened and Mrs. Whitney stepped +out into the hall. + +"Why, I thought you were lying down, Kathleen; you said that you were +too tired to come in later to our club meeting and hear Senator Foster's +address on 'Peace,'" she exclaimed, and not waiting for an answer, turned +to Whitney. "Can you spare me a moment, Winslow? I wish your advice," and +with a quick tilt of her head she indicated the small reception room on +the left of the front door. "Come in here." + +"Certainly, Minna. Don't wait for me, Kathleen," but the girl paused +irresolutely. + +"Shall I go to the studio?" she asked. + +"No, you cannot get in; the door is locked. Go to your sitting-room and +I'll stop for you on the way to the studio." + +"Honest Injun, Dad?" And her father, nodding vigorous assent, watched her +go up the stairs, then with a brisk step entered the reception room. + +"How charming you look, Minna!" he exclaimed, in honest admiration. + +"You think so?" and Mrs. Whitney dimpled with pleasure. "I do want to win +the election tonight--and clothes count for so much in woman's politics." + +"I back you to win against all comers," and Whitney gave her shapely +shoulder a loving pat as he stooped to kiss her. "What is the matter with +Kathleen tonight? Her behavior troubles me." + +His wife laughed softly. "She is suffering from an old complaint--she +is in love." + +"What!" Whitney stared at her in blank astonishment. "With whom?" and +sudden, sharp anxiety lay behind the abrupt question. + +"I suspect--Captain Miller." + +"Miller? That silent--" Whitney checked his impetuous words. "Miller? +Good Lord!" + +"What can you tell me about Captain Miller?" Her feminine curiosity was +instantly aroused at his quick change of expression. + +"Just what I have seen of him and nothing more. He never talks of +himself." + +"Such a relief," sighed Mrs. Whitney. "There is Randall Foster--talks +always of his own achievements. Wait until Kiametia Grey marries him. I +sometimes wonder...." + +"I can't see that we are directly concerned with that romance," broke in +Whitney with characteristic impatience. "What's your opinion of Miller?" + +"I rather like him; he's very agreeable, good-looking, and seems to have +plenty of money...." + +"Then you...." + +"Favor his suit? Yes," tranquilly. + +"But, heavens, Minna, you know nothing about Captain Miller's past." + +"You can inquire about it; in fact, I think it is your duty to do so. He +calls here entirely too frequently not to be asked his intentions." + +"What the--" Whitney reddened angrily and his voice rose. "A nice task +you put before me. I dis--" + +"Sh!" Rising hurriedly, Mrs. Whitney laid a warning hand on his +arm. "There's the bell, and this room is needed for the cloaks. +Where is Julie?" + +Paying no attention to her husband's apparent desire to say something +more, Mrs. Whitney stepped into the hall. Whitney stood in deep thought +for a brief moment, then hastened after her, but his hope to slip +upstairs unseen was frustrated. Miss Kiametia Grey, enveloped in a heavy +fur coat, promptly hailed him and as he stood chatting to her in the hall +the front door again opened and Henry, the chauffeur, who had been +requisitioned to assist Vincent, ushered in Sinclair Spencer. + +"Good evening, Mrs. Whitney," Spencer's loud cheery voice boomed through +the hall, and under cover of his jovial manner he scanned Whitney and his +wife. Had Kathleen spoken to them of his proposal of marriage that +morning and her refusal? "Just dropped in to see your husband, Mrs. +Whitney; hadn't hoped for the pleasure of seeing you. Hello, Whitney. +Evening, Miss Grey." But the spinster, with a stiff bow, slipped past the +lawyer and into the reception room without seeing his outstretched hand. +Spencer's florid complexion turned a deeper tint as he met Henry's blank +stare, but a covert glance at the Whitneys convinced him that they had +not seen Miss Kiametia's rudeness. + +"Do take Mr. Spencer upstairs, Winslow," suggested Mrs. Whitney, as the +chauffeur opened the door to admit more guests. "I have a meeting of my +club tonight, Mr. Spencer, and therefore..." + +"Certainly, certainly; please don't let my presence put you out," with a +courteous bow. "Come on, Whitney, let's go up to your studio," and he +followed his host into the elevator. + +Whitney stopped the car at the first bedroom floor. "We will be far +more comfortable in my wife's boudoir than in my studio," he said. "Go +ahead, Spencer, first door to your right. I'll stop in my bedroom and +get some cigars." + +Glancing curiously about the large attractive hall, Spencer entered the +daintily furnished boudoir, and was examining the many water colors and +photographs which hung on the walls, when Whitney came in carrying a +cigar box and a tray containing Scotch and vichy. + +"That's some of Kathleen's work," he explained, observing that the +lawyer had picked up a miniature of Mrs. Whitney. "She is clever with +her brush." + +"Very clever," agreed Spencer enthusiastically. "There is no one, +Whitney, whom I admire as I do your daughter," drawing a lounging +chair near the table on which his host put the tray. "Why does +Kathleen avoid me?" + +"Does she?" + +"She does," with bitter emphasis. "And it cuts--deep." + +"You are supersensitive," protested Whitney politely. "I do not for a +moment believe Kathleen would intentionally hurt your feelings." + +Spencer did not answer at once, and chafing inwardly at being kept from +his work in the studio, Whitney glared first at his guest and then at the +clock, but the hint was lost. + +Suddenly Spencer's right fist came down on the table with a resounding +whack. "Kathleen turned me down this morning." Whitney's eyes were +riveted on his guest but he said nothing, and Spencer continued +earnestly. "I want you to use your influence...." + +"No." The monosyllable was spoken quietly, but the gleam in Whitney's +eyes was a silent warning. "We will leave my daughter's name out of the +discussion. Was there anything else you wished to see me about? If +not...." and he half rose. + +Instead of answering Spencer lolled back in his chair and, taking his +time, lighted a cigar. + +"Your note for twenty thousand dollars is due in ten days," he announced. +"Are you prepared to take it up?" + +There was a protracted pause before Whitney spoke. "Are you willing +to let me curtail your note with a payment of five thousand +dollars?" he asked. + +"No." + +Whitney's hand closed spasmodically over the bottle of whiskey, and he +was livid with anger as he glared at the younger man. Spencer's good +looks were marred by signs of recent dissipation, and the coarse lines +about his thin lips destroyed the air of refinement given him by his +well-cut clothes. Whitney cast a despairing look about the room, at the +pretty knick-knacks, pictures, and handsome furniture--all indicated a +cultivated woman's taste. How his wife loved her belongings! + +With the curtailing of his income through the shrinking and non-payment +of dividends, he had drawn upon his principal and--keeping up +appearances was an expensive game. Every piece of property that he owned +was heavily mortgaged, and every bit of collateral was already deposited +to cover notes at his bank. Slowly Whitney's fingers loosened their grip +upon the bottle of whiskey. + +"Well," and his voice cut the stillness like a whiplash. "What is your +pound of flesh?" + +Spencer knocked the ash from the end of his cigar into the tray with care +that none should fall upon the polished mahogany table top. + +"Kathleen might reconsider--eh?" suggestively. "And--eh--there is your +invention--_your latest invention_." + +It was approaching midnight when Whitney stepped alone into the hall. The +hum of voices rose from the room below; evidently Vincent had neglected +to close the drawing-room doors, or else the Sisters in Unity needed air. +Listening intently, he judged from the direction of the voices that the +women had not gone into the dining-room. + +Whitney walked toward the elevator, paused, then continued down the hall +and without rapping entered Kathleen's sitting-room. But he stopped on +the threshold on beholding Kathleen sitting before her desk with her head +resting upon its flat top, sound asleep. By her side lay paint box and +brushes and a half-completed miniature of Captain Miller. Without +disturbing her, Whitney crept softly from the room. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +SISTERS IN UNITY + + +It was a very much flurried Vincent who admitted Senator Randall Foster, +and helped him off with his overcoat. + +"They're still argufying," he said, indicating the closed drawing-room +doors with a jerk of his thumb. "I'll get word to Mrs. Whitney, sir, that +you have come." + +"No, no, don't interrupt the meeting," hastily interposed the Senator. "I +may be a few minutes early. Can I see Mr. Whitney?" + +"Yes, sir, certainly, sir. Come this way," and Vincent moved toward the +elevator shaft. "I don't believe Mr. Whitney has gone to his studio, yet, +sir; he never takes anyone there, and I haven't seen Mr. Spencer leave." + +"Mr. Spencer?" Foster drew back. "Is he with Mr. Whitney?" + +"Yes, sir, so Henry told me." + +"After all, I don't believe I'll disturb Mr. Whitney, Vincent. Is there +some place I can wait downstairs?" + +"Yes, sir, the reception room." The butler led the way to it "I'm afraid, +sir, you'll find it very uncomfortable in here, sir," looking at the +racks of coats and cloaks, "but"--brightening--"here's a copy of the +evening paper; Mr. Whitney must have left it; and this chair, sir--" + +"Yes, yes, Vincent, thank you, I'll be all right." Foster took possession +of the solitary uncovered chair. "This is an excellent opportunity of +reading over my speech. Be sure and let me know, Vincent, the instant I +am wanted in the drawing-room." + +"Surely, sir. I'll tell Mrs. Whitney that you are here, sir," and +Vincent retired. + +Inside the closed drawing-room and library the atmosphere was surcharged +with electricity. Miss Kiametia Grey, who had locked horns with her +opponents on numerous subjects, sat back, flushed and victorious; she was +beginning to feel the fatigue incident to having borne the brunt of the +discussion, and was secretly longing to have the meeting adjourn to the +dining-room where she suspected Mrs. Whitney had provided a bountiful +supper. She felt the need of refreshments, if only a Roman punch. + +Mrs. Whitney was also feeling the strain. She had designated a sister +official to occupy the chair when the nominating speeches were in order, +and was awaiting the announcement of the result of the ballot with inward +trepidation. Her composed manner and smiling face won Miss Kiametia's +admiration; she was herself of too excitable a temperament to keep her +equanimity unimpaired, and she watched Mrs. Whitney's calm demeanor and +unruffled poise, conscious of her own disheveled appearance. She missed +Kathleen; the latter's presence had become an almost virtual necessity to +the spinster. Despite the disparity in ages, their tastes were similar, +and both had a keen sense of humor. It had added zest to the spinster's +enjoyment of the season's gayeties to have Kathleen with her, and she had +watched the girl's gradual absorption in Captain Miller with lynx eyes. +The obliteration of Sinclair Spencer as a possible suitor had filled her +with delight. But she had seen Spencer in the house that very night. What +did that mean? What was he there for? Surely, Kathleen had not.... + +A stir in the back of the room recalled Miss Kiametia's wandering +thoughts, and she leaned eagerly forward to hear the report of the +chairman of the tellers. Mrs. Whitney was elected and Miss Kiametia had +also carried the day. Round after round of hearty applause greeted the +announcement, and as it died out the two successful candidates for first +and second place in the organization stepped to the platform. But after +expressing her thanks, Miss Kiametia again resumed her seat among the +members, while Mrs. Whitney took up the duties of presiding officer. + +As the regular business of the meeting drew to a close one of the members +rose, and on being recognized announced that she had a resolution to +offer, and read in a high singsong voice: + +"Be it resolved that this organization of Sisters in Unity indorse the +peace movement, and that it use its wide influence to check the tendency +toward militarism which injudicious and misguided Americans hope to foist +upon the American public." + +Applause greeted the speaker, and a gray-haired woman across the room +demanded recognition from the chair. + +"I would like to say a few words in favor of that resolution," she began, +finally catching Mrs. Whitney's attention. "Our wars with England, our +mother country, were but as the wrangle of relatives. The leaders in the +warring nations in Europe today are all related. Let us keep clear of all +international entanglements. Let us have peace. Through peace this +country has achieved greatness. Peace and prosperity go hand in hand. +Peace uplifts; war retards. Militarism is a throw-back to feudal days. On +its lighter side, militarism is an appeal for gold lace and brass +buttons. A man puts on our uniform because it is a thing of show, in +other words, conspicuous ..." + +"Madam chairman!" Her face flaming, an irate woman arose. "No, I don't +care whether I'm in order or not; I will be heard--Mrs. Lutz is quite +right, the United States uniform _is_ conspicuous, and has been +conspicuous on many a bloody battlefield since 1776. The uniform is +honored alike in court and camp in every nation of the world." + +As she sat down pandemonium reigned. Instantly Miss Kiametia was on her +feet, and her strident call, "Madam chairman, madam chairman," rose +repeatedly above the hubbub. Mrs. Whitney pounded for order and gave the +spinster the floor. + +"I rise to a question of information," explained Miss Kiametia, in tones +which echoed through the rooms. "Is this an indignation meeting or an +assemblage of Sisters in Unity?" she demanded, and sat down. In the +comparative quiet that ensued, the peace resolution was seconded and +passed by a small majority. + +Mrs. Whitney stepped to the edge of the platform. "Senator Randall +Foster has very kindly consented to address us tonight," she said. "So +distinguished a lawmaker needs no introduction to this organization. Mr. +Senator," as Foster entered through the door held open for him by +Vincent, "we invite you to the platform." + +Bowing his thanks, Foster joined Mrs. Whitney and immediately began one +of those adroit, well-worded addresses which had made him a marked man +in the Senate. "I come to you a special pleader," he continued, with +growing earnestness, "to spread the gospel of peace. It is your +privilege to weld public opinion, and opinion can be as a yoke upon a +man's neck. In this free America opinion governs. Jingoes would try to +plunge us into war. When a boy is given an airgun, his first impulse is +to go out and shoot it off. Arm the men of this country and their +impulse will be the same. A small standing army does not tend to +militarism; its size does not lend itself to the issuing of imperative +mandates; and mandates, ladies, lead to war. + +"It is especially a woman's duty to demand peace. In war, upon the woman +falls the suffering and the sacrifice. The lover, the brother, the +father, the son may find honorable death upon the field, but at home the +woman pays. God pity the woman left desolate and alone, her loved ones +sacrificed on the altar of militarism! + +"And mothers? What of your children and the fate of yet unborn +generations? Are they brought into the world to be tools of militarism? +Lift up your voice for peace; carry the message, 'Peace on earth' to the +very portals of Congress. Make any and every sacrifice, but guard your +man child." + +As Foster stopped speaking enthusiastic applause broke out, and a rising +vote of thanks was given him. As the gratified Senator stepped down from +the platform he found himself by Miss Kiametia's side. + +"I did it to please you, Kiametia," he whispered, holding her hand +tightly. "Have I earned one kind word?" + +Miss Kiametia favored him with a quick expressive look and a faint blush. + +"You are a staunch friend," she said warmly, and Foster brightened. +"Only--only why did you lay such stress on the 'man child'? Nearly all +are spinsters in this peace organization." + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +A MAN IN A HURRY + + +Heavy clouds hung low and not a star was visible. The darkness was +intensified by the gleam of distant city lights, for in that section of +Washington lying to the southwest of Pennsylvania Avenue a defective fuse +had caused the dimming of every electric light in the vicinity. Far up on +one of the roofs a man, crouching behind the meager shelter offered by a +chimney, blessed the chance which fortune provided. + +Crawling on hands and knees, he cautiously made his way to the edges of +the roof, on which he had dropped from the higher building next door, and +looked down. His eyes straining in the darkness, every sense alert to +danger, he scanned intently each window ledge and cornice. No hope there. +Not even a lead pipe or telephone wires afforded a hold for desperate, +gripping fingers. Unlike the building adjoining on the south, the new +house had no party wall, and a gulf too wide to jump separated it from +its northern neighbor. The sheer drop to the garden beneath was suicidal. + +The man lay for a few seconds striving to collect himself. He could not +return the way he had come. He would be caught like a rat in the trap +with the arrival of dawn, if not before. Perhaps his pursuers were on his +trail already. The thought spurred his numbed body to action, and lifting +his head he glanced along the flat roof. Toward the center of it rose a +box-like structure with apparently an arched skylight above it. A little +distance away from the structure, he distinguished the outlines of what +appeared to be a scuttle. Warily he approached it, and using every +precaution to make the least possible sound, he attempted to raise the +scuttle. A long sigh of relief escaped him as he succeeded. The scuttle +was not locked. + +He paused long enough to glance keenly about him. There was no sign of +another human being, but a sound smote his ear. Someone was moving on the +pebbled roof of the building he had just left. Without an instant's delay +he groped about until his feet touched the rung of a ladder, and drawing +to the scuttle behind him, he made his way down the ladder. + +On reaching the bottom he paused in indecision. He could make out nothing +in the inky blackness, and with every sense alive to danger, he waited. +But apparently his entrance had disturbed no one, and taking heart of +grace, he pulled out a tiny flashlight and pressed the button. + +The light revealed a large attic partly filled with trunks and worn +furniture. A large wine closet, the bottles shining as the light fell on +them through the slat partition, occupied one part of the attic, while a +wall partition, with closed door, ran across the entire western side. To +his right, the man made out the head of a narrow staircase. He was making +his way to the staircase when his acute hearing caught the sound of a +softly closing door on the floor below and approaching footsteps. + +Casting a hunted look about him, he spied a closed closet door. He doused +his light while making his way to the closet, and jerked open the door, +at the same time throwing out his right hand, the better to judge the +depth of the dark closet. His groping fingers closed on cold steel. His +heart lost a throb, then raced madly on, as he clung weakly to the metal. +An elevator shaft, and he had mistaken it for prison bars! + +For a second his chilled body was shaken with hysterical desire for +laughter; then his strong will conquered. He had not forgotten the +advancing footsteps. A desperate situation required desperate chances. +Stepping back he closed the outer door of the elevator shaft and pressed +the button for the elevator. Which would reach him first--the person +creeping upstairs or the automatic electric elevator? + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +A SINISTER DISCOVERY + + +Mrs. Whitney sat up in bed and contemplated her husband reproachfully as +he entered her room. + +"Have you been working all night?" she inquired. + +Whitney nodded absently as he stooped to kiss her. "Now, don't worry, +dear; work will not injure me. I've just had a cold shower and feel ten +per cent better, and all ready for my breakfast. You are the one who +looks tired; that's a very becoming cap you are wearing, but you need +more color here," pinching her cheek. "I don't like to see you so pale. +Were the Sisters in Unity as strenuous as ever?" + +"Just about--but, Oh, Winslow, I was elected...." + +"That was a foregone conclusion, you modest child." Again Whitney kissed +her. "Congratulations, my darling, though why you should want it...." + +Mrs. Whitney laughed good-naturedly. "I'm too happy today to argue the +question," she broke in. + +"Kiametia Grey frightened us all last night by fainting ..." + +"Fainting! Kiametia? I thought she was as tough as a horse?" + +"So she is usually, but she has been doing too much socially, and late +hours do not agree with a woman of her years." + +"She isn't so old," protested Whitney. + +"She is older than I, and I'm not so young," Mrs. Whitney, whose years +sat lightly upon her, jerked a dainty dressing-gown about her shoulders. +"Kiametia did faint and when she came to, declared it was the overheated +atmosphere of the rooms and the continuous talking which had upset her." + +"Well, you must admit, Minna, the Sisters are famous for noisy +discussions. Kiametia is generally able to hold up her end of an +argument. I am sorry she had to give in to superior numbers," Whitney +laughed. "You'll never convince me that she fainted." + +"She did, too; and felt so badly that I persuaded her not to go home, but +to spend the remainder of the night in our blue bedroom." + +"Good heavens!" Whitney gazed blankly at his wife. "Did she--did ..." + +"No, she did not stay there," pausing dramatically. "She found Sinclair +Spencer sound asleep in the bed." She waited expectantly for her +husband's comment, but getting no reply, she burst out, "What was he +doing there--how came he to be there?" + +"I was foolish enough to offer him whiskey." Her husband seated himself +carefully on the edge of the bed, "Spencer had been drinking before he +came to see me, and a very little more made him tipsy. I was fearful that +if I took him downstairs he would try and break up your meeting, so +persuaded him to go and lie down on the bed in the blue room." + +"Sometimes, Winslow, for a thoughtful man, you ball things up +dreadfully," sighed Mrs. Whitney. "Why did you select that room? You +always put your friends in the hall bedroom." + +"Never gave the matter of the rooms a thought." Whitney moved restlessly; +he hated to see a woman cry, and his wife looked perilously upon the +point of tears. In spite of his assertion that he did not miss the loss +of sleep, his nerves were not under full control. Ordinarily not a +drinking man, he had stopped on his way from his bedroom to help himself +to the small amount of Scotch left in the bottle. + +"Such a scene as I had with Kiametia," groaned Mrs. Whitney sighing +dismally at the recollection. "Finally, I convinced her that I knew +nothing of Mr. Spencer's presence, and she consented to sleep in the +hall bedroom." + +"I'm glad Kiametia discovered Spencer in time." His chuckle developing +into a laugh, Whitney rose and walked to the door. "It's no crying +matter, my dear. Kiametia will be the first to enjoy the joke." + +"If it had been anyone but Sinclair Spencer!" Mrs. Whitney shook her head +forlornly. "She has developed an intense dislike for him." + +"And Kiametia is usually a woman of discernment." His sarcasm passed +unheeded, and he opened the hall door. "Hurry and dress, Minna, I'll wait +for you in the dining-room. Heavens! What's that?" + +A muffled cry, long drawn out, agonizing, vibrated through the stillness. + +Spellbound, husband and wife eyed each other, then Whitney stepped into +the hall just as Miss Kiametia tore out of her bedroom. + +"What is it?" she demanded. "Oh, stop it, stop it!" clapping her hands +over her ears as the cry rose again. + +"It comes from the elevator shaft, sir," panted Vincent, appearing up the +stairs, Henry, the chauffeur, close at his heels. Without moving, Whitney +stared stupidly at the two servants, and it was Henry who laid a +trembling finger on the elevator button. As they heard the automatic car +come to a standstill on the other side of the closed mahogany door there +was a second's pause; then Miss Kiametia, summoning all her fortitude, +laid her hand on the door knob and pulled it open. A horrified +exclamation escaped her as her eyes fell upon Kathleen, whose bloodless +face was pressed against the iron grating of the inner door, to which she +was clinging for support. + +"Let me out," she pleaded, her eyes dark with horror. "Let me out." + +At sight of his daughter Whitney recovered himself. "Stand back, +Kathleen," he directed. "Then we can slide open the door." He had to +repeat his words twice before she took in their meaning. Releasing her +hold upon the grating, she covered her face as if to shut out some +terrifying spectacle. As Henry pushed back the door, she collapsed into +her father's arms. + +"Bring Kathleen in here," called Mrs. Whitney from her doorway, where she +had stood, too frightened to move. "There are smelling salts on my +bureau. What can have brought on this attack of hysterics, Kiametia?" + +"The Lord knows. Perhaps the machinery's out of order and she's been +stuck between floors." The spinster, suddenly remembering her extremely +light attire, backed toward her room. + +Whitney, reentering the hall, caught her words. "Go to Kathleen, Minna; +she asked for you," and as his wife turned back into her bedroom, he +added, "See if there is anything wrong with the elevator, Henry." + +Obediently the chauffeur stepped through the narrow entrance to the +elevator and into the steel cage. The next instant he turned an ashy face +toward his companions. + +"Look!" he gasped. "Look!" And his shaking hand pointed to that part of +the elevator concealed by the solid wall of the shaft from the view of +those standing in the hall. With one accord they crowded into the +elevator, and a stricken silence prevailed. + +Crouching on the floor at the far end of the shallow cage was Sinclair +Spencer. The rays of the overhead electric lamp, by which the cage was +lighted, showed plainly the gash in his throat, while crimson stains on +his white shirt added to the ghastly tableau. Death was stamped upon the +marble whiteness of his upturned face. + +"Good God!" Whitney reeled back and but for Vincent's arm would +have fallen. + +"Here, sir, sit here, sir," and the butler half lifted him to a chair in +the hall. "Go get whiskey, Henry," noting the pallor of Whitney's face. +"Quick, man!" + +"Telephone for a doctor, Vincent," directed Miss Kiametia, pulling +herself together. She had been the first to bolt out of the elevator. "I +will stay with Mr. Whitney until you get back," and flashing her a +grateful look, the butler, relieved to have responsibility taken from his +shoulders, fled downstairs after Henry. + +Miss Kiametia laid trembling hands on Whitney's bowed shoulders. + +"It's awful, Winslow," she stammered. "Awful!" + +As he paid no attention to her, but stared vacantly at the floor before +him, she paced to and fro, always careful, however, never to go in the +direction of the elevator. The exercise brought back some semblance of +self-control, and her eyes were beginning to take on their wonted snap +when Whitney rose unsteadily and stepped toward the elevator. Miss +Kiametia's voice stopped him on its threshold. + +"I wouldn't go in there again," she advised. "Wait until the +coroner comes." + +"The coroner?" staring stupidly at her. + +"Yes, hadn't you better send for him?" + +Whitney's hands dropped to his side with a hopeless gesture. "The +coroner," he muttered. "God help us!" + +"Winslow!" Mrs. Whitney appeared in the doorway, tears streaming down +her white cheeks. "Kathleen is completely unnerved; come and help me +quiet her." + +At that moment Henry arrived, tray in hand. "I couldn't find the whiskey, +sir," he explained, breathless with hurry. "But here's some cognac, sir. +Let me pour it out," and he handed a filled liqueur glass to Whitney, who +swallowed the stimulant at a gulp. + +"Shouldn't mind having some of that myself," announced Miss Kiametia. +"Bring the tray here, Henry," walking over to a table. "And, Winslow, +take a glass to Kathleen; it will do her good. Henry, did Vincent +telephone for the doctor?" she added below her breath, as Whitney and his +wife disappeared in the latter's bedroom and closed the door. + +"Yes, Miss Grey, but he was out. So Vincent rang up the hospital and +the coroner." + +"Good." Miss Kiametia debated a moment whether or not to take more +cognac, and ended by refilling her glass. "Stay right in this hall, +Henry; don't leave it for a moment until the doctor comes. I'm going in +to dress." + +As the door closed behind the spinster, Henry stood in deep thought, then +pouring out a glass of cognac he hastily drank it. Setting down the +glass, he tiptoed over to the elevator, but one look at the still figure +crouching with head thrown back and sightless eyes turned to the ceiling +sent him back into the center of the hall. Drawing out his handkerchief, +he mopped his damp forehead. + +From Mrs. Whitney's bedroom came the murmur of voices, and Henry, +darting a quick, searching look about the empty hall, slipped over to +the door and applied his ear to the keyhole. The sound of approaching +footsteps and voices warned him of the arrival of the physician, and +when Vincent appeared, followed by two men, he was standing on guard +near the elevator shaft. + +A quick word of explanation sufficed, and then the younger of the +newcomers entered the elevator. He recoiled at sight of Spencer, then +advancing tested the dead man's pulse and heart. + +"This is a case for you, Penfield," he exclaimed backing out into the +hall, and without a word the coroner took his place beside Spencer. The +young physician turned to Vincent. "Didn't you tell me that someone was +ill and required medical assistance? Mr. Spencer is dead; I can do +nothing for him." + +Without answering, Vincent tapped on Mrs. Whitney's door, and Whitney's +voice bade him enter. "Dr. Hall, sir," announced the butler. "Want him to +come in, sir?--Yes, sir; this way, Doctor," and he pulled to the door +after the physician. The elevator drew Vincent's eyes as a magnet draws +steel, and he started violently at sight of the coroner beckoning to him +from its entrance. + +"Call up Police Headquarters," directed Penfield. "Tell them I am here, +and ask to have Detective Mitchell and three plain-clothes men sent over +at once. Be quick about it," and his peremptory tone caused the agitated +butler to hasten his usually leisurely gait. Henry started to follow him, +but the coroner called him back. "Explain to me exactly what happened +when Mr. Spencer was found," he said, stepping into the hall. + +The tale lost nothing in Henry's telling, and Penfield was gnawing his +fingernails, a trick he had if perplexed, when Vincent escorted the +detective and plain-clothes policemen into the hall. The coroner rose +with alacrity. + +"Glad you could come, Mitchell," he said. "Let me put you in possession +of all facts so far known," and he repeated all that Henry had told him. +Mitchell listened in silence; only the gleam in his eyes attested his +interest, as his face remained expressionless. And that gleam deepened as +he stepped into the elevator and examined Spencer. When he came out he +was wrapping his handkerchief around a knife. Exchanging a glance with +the coroner, he turned to Vincent. + +"Show my men over the house," he directed, "and you," addressing +Henry, "inform Mr. Whitney that Coroner Penfield and I would like to +see him at once." + +"I am here." Whitney, who had entered the hall unnoticed a second before, +joined the group. "What can I do for you?" + +"Answer a few questions," and Penfield, observing the strain under which +he was laboring, pushed a chair in his direction. "Sit down, Mr. +Whitney." He turned back to Henry. "You need not wait," and the chauffeur +reluctantly went down the stairs. The coroner waited an appreciable +moment before again speaking to Whitney. "Was Mr. Spencer visiting you?" +he questioned. + +"Only for the night." + +"When did you see him last?" + +"About midnight." + +"And where was that?" + +"In the bedroom across the way," pointing to it, and the detective +crossed the hall and entered the room, the door of which was closed. + +"And what was Mr. Spencer doing the last time you saw him?" asked the +coroner, with quiet persistence. + +"Falling asleep," tersely. "Spencer was drunk," added Whitney after a +pause. "His behavior led me to believe that he would intrude upon my +wife's guests if he went downstairs, so I suggested that he spend the +night here." Whitney drew a long breath, "Is Spencer really dead?" + +"Yes." + +Whitney shrank back in his chair; he had aged in the past hour, and he +was conscious that his hands were trembling. "I feared so," he muttered, +"I feared so. Can"--clearing his throat--"can Spencer be moved?" + +"Not just yet; there are certain formalities to be gone through with +first." Penfield paused to make an entry in his notebook. "Of course, +there will be an autopsy--at the morgue. Oh, Mitchell," as the detective +returned, "have you any questions to ask Mr. Whitney?" + +Before answering the detective drew up a chair near Whitney. "I am +told your daughter's screams aroused the household," he said. "Can I +see Miss Whitney?" + +"No, you must wait until she is composed; the doctor is just +administering an opiate," replied Whitney hastily. "Kathleen has been +through a most harrowing experience." + +"I see." Mitchell drummed impatiently on the arm of his chair. Whitney +eyed the two men askance. Their manner, combined with the events of the +morning, was telling on him. At any price he must break the silence--he +could endure it no longer. + +"I wish to God," he exclaimed, "Spencer had chosen any other spot to kill +himself in than our elevator!" + +The coroner was the first to reply. "The wound was not self-inflicted." + +"What!" Whitney sprang to his feet. "Do you mean--Spencer was murdered?" + +"Yes." Both men never moved their gaze from Whitney's ashen face. "Were +all members of your family on good terms with Mr. Spencer?" + +"They were," Whitney moistened his parched lips, and only the detective +caught his furtive glance behind him. + +"Did anyone beside your immediate family spend last night in this house, +Mr. Whitney?" he asked. + +"No--yes," confusedly. "Miss Kiametia Grey...." + +"Winslow"--Mrs. Whitney, fully dressed, stepped into the hall from her +boudoir. "Pardon me," with a courteous inclination of her head as the +coroner and Mitchell rose. "Winslow, I've asked the servants, and they +tell me she has disappeared...." + +"She? Who?" chorused the three men. + +"Julie, my French maid." + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +HIDE AND SEEK + + +Charles Miller was generally an early riser, but the head waiter at the +Metropole was surreptitiously scanning his watch before giving the signal +to close the dining-room doors, when the Captain walked in and took his +accustomed seat at a distant table. Miller had but time to glance at the +headline, "Stormy Cabinet Meeting Predicted at White House Today," in his +morning newspaper, when eggs and toast were placed before him. His +attentive waiter poured the hot coffee and placed cream and sugar in his +cup without waiting for instructions. + +"Eggs all right, sir?" he asked anxiously, a trace of accent in his +pleasant voice. + +"Yes, thanks." Miller looked at him casually. "I haven't seen you before; +where's Jenkins?" + +"Transferred to the café, sir," smoothing a wrinkle out of the tablecloth +as he spoke. "I'll try to give satisfaction, sir." + +Miller nodded absently. "Oh, it's all right," he said, stifling a yawn, +and propping his newspaper against his coffee pot, ate his breakfast +leisurely, so leisurely that the other habitués of the hotel had finished +their breakfast and departed before he pushed back his chair. Turning, he +signed to his waiter to bring his check, and not appearing to do so, +watched his approach with keen interest. + +"Been a steward, haven't you?" he inquired. + +"Yes, sir." The waiter pocketed the tip with alacrity. "Hamburg-American +Line, sir." + +"Thought so." Miller signed his name with careful attention to each +stroke of the pencil. "How many of you are employed here?" + +"Eight, sir. The lines are tied up; we must have work, and it's hard to +get good berths, sir, with so many ships interned." + +"Quite so," Miller rose. "Your name--?" + +"Lewis. Just a moment, sir," as Miller started to cross the deserted +dining-room, "Shall I reserve the table for you for luncheon, sir?" + +"Luncheon?" Miller reflected. "I rather think not." + +"Thank you, sir." The waiter's manner was apologetic. "I asked, sir, +because, sir, today the Cabinet officers lunch here, and...." + +"They require your undivided attention?" mildly. "I quite +understand--Ludwig." Their eyes met, then Miller turned on his heel. +_"Auf wiedersehen"_ he exclaimed under his breath, and the waiter's +stolid expression changed to one of relief. + +Miller, who had checked his overcoat and hat before entering the +dining-room, wasted no time but entered a public telephone booth. When he +emerged he was whistling cheerily, and the doorkeeper watched him hail a +street car with curious eyes. + +"Always running in and out," he muttered. "It beats me when he sleeps." + +First stopping at a florist's and then a jeweler's establishment, Miller +bent his footsteps toward the Portland, and to his satisfaction found +Senator Foster enjoying a belated breakfast in his apartment. + +"I'm glad to discover a man keeping later hours than I," he remarked, +accepting the chair Foster pulled forward. "You must have an easy +conscience to sleep so late in the morning." + +"Or enjoyed the devil of a night--er--mare." The Senator's face was +flushed and his strong voice husky. "You mistake; this is luncheon, not +breakfast. Keep me company? No?" Foster pecked viciously at his lamb chop. +"I've no appetite at all. Caught a beastly cold at the Sisters in Unity +meeting last night. Cough all the time--beastly climate, Washington." + +"Why stay here?" + +"Oh, Congress...." + +"But that adjourned three weeks ago." + +Foster frowned, then smiled. "A woman's whim--we are not always +independent, Miller"--a shrug completed the sentence. "Change your mind +and have some Scotch?" + +"No, thanks." Miller drew his chair closer to his companion, and lowered +his voice. "I called this morning, Senator, to ask some questions about +Winslow Whitney." + +Foster's smile vanished, and the glance he shot at Miller was sharp. + +"It depends on the questions," he began stiffly, "whether they are +answered or not." + +"Quite right," with unruffled composure. "I shall ask nothing which +cannot be answered with propriety." Miller ceased speaking to light a +cigarette. "All Washington knows Whitney is a man of wealth"--his keen +eyes detected the sudden alteration in Foster's expression--"of standing +in the social and business world, but has he achieved success as an +inventor?" + +"Yes," was the instant and unqualified response, and Miller's eyes +lighted, but it was some seconds before he put another question. + +"Are you familiar with his latest invention?" + +"You mean his camera for use in aeroplanes?" + +"Yes. Do you think it has any hope of success?" + +"I believe so; Whitney declares the experiments are entirely +satisfactory." + +"Have you seen results of the tests?" + +"Whitney showed me views of New York City and its environs taken from an +aeroplane. They were--wonderful--" the Senator puffed nervously at his +cigar--"perfect maps." + +"Indeed?" Miller made no effort to conceal his eager curiosity. "At what +height were they taken?" + +"Ah, that I do not feel at liberty to disclose. How, when, and where this +new camera can be utilized is of interest to all military men; but as +Whitney's friend, I could not divulge details he may desire kept secret, +even if I knew them." + +"Pardon me, I thought you his most intimate friend...." + +"I am, but not his confidant. And as his friend, I cannot discuss his +private affairs with you." + +"I don't agree with you there." Miller tossed his cigarette stub into the +iron grate. "Would it not be a friendly act to place Whitney in a +position to coin money?" + +"Ah, so that is why you take an interest in his invention?" Foster +laid down his cigar and contemplated his companion closely. "You wish +to buy ..." + +"Exactly." + +"Is the purchaser to be the same for whom you are collecting horses and +ammunition?" + +"Yes." + +Foster did not answer at once, and Miller, without seeming to do so, took +silent note of the handsome appointments of the dining-room. The silver +service on the sideboard, the cut-glass decanters and liqueurs seemed +somewhat out of place in a bachelor apartment. Somewhat puzzled, Miller +looked more fully at his host, hoping to find an answer to his unspoken +doubts. Careful of his dress, deportment, and democracy, Foster had early +gained the sobriquet "Dandy," but there was nothing effeminate in his +spare though muscular form, and his long under jaw indicated bull-dog +obstinacy. Confessing to fifty, Foster did not look his age by ten years. + +"I shall have to ponder your question, Miller." As he spoke Foster rose. +"Frankly, I've been striving to interest our Government in Whitney's +invention, and that is one of the things which has kept me in Washington. +Suppose we go and see Whitney now. I know that he is anxious to dispose +of his invention--he is hard pressed for money,'' + +"Indeed!" The pupils of Miller's eyes contracted suddenly. "Possibly +Whitney will give me a hearing, and I need not offer"--he stopped, +looked at his cigarette case, returned it to his pocket, and followed +Foster out of the room--"a large sum," he finished, helping the Senator +into his overcoat. + +Foster laughed shortly. "You will get no bargain. Whitney's politeness is +on the surface; underneath he is as hard as nails, and suspicious--" The +Senator's cough cut short his speech and echoed down the corridor as he +closed the door to his apartment. "Won't even let me look at the camera, +much less let me examine the lens, specifications, drawings, plate, et +cetera. In fact, refused to give me any details, although he knows I must +have the information so as to interest others in his invention." + +"But surely he has had the camera tested thoroughly?" + +"Oh, yes. It has leaked out that the lens is so powerful and the +mechanical parts of the camera so perfect that maps of the country taken +at a remarkable height depict fortifications to the minutest detail. No +one knows the method employed to bring about such a result. That is the +secret locked inside Whitney's studio and his brain. Whitney is a genius, +and unlike others of his ilk, is extremely modest about his own +achievements. He covers his real nature under a mantle of eccentricity. I +doubt if his wife and daughter really gauge his capabilities." A violent +fit of coughing interrupted him, and he did not speak again for some +minutes. As the elevator reached the ground floor, Foster saw his +chauffeur standing near the office. "My car at the door?" he asked, as +the man approached. + +"Yes, sir," touching his cap. "Will you drive, sir?" + +"Not today, too much cold, don't want pneumonia. Jump in, Miller." Foster +signed to him to enter first. "Take us to the Whitneys', Mason," he +directed, and sprang into the tonneau. + +Five minutes later they stopped in front of the Whitney house, and +directing his chauffeur to wait, Foster accompanied Miller up the steps, +but before either could touch the bell, the door was opened by Vincent +whose white face brightened at the sight of the Senator. + +"Step right in, sir," he begged. "The master was just telephoning for +you, sir." Vincent paused and looked doubtfully at Miller. "Did you wish +to see Miss Kathleen, sir?" + +"Yes," taking out his visiting card. + +"Miss Kathleen is sick in bed." Vincent appeared still more confused, but +Foster, standing somewhat in shadow, caught Miller's look of alarm which +the butler missed. + +"What is the matter with Miss Kathleen?" demanded Miller, and there was +no mistaking the feeling in his voice and manner. + +"She had a shock, sir, a most awful shock." While speaking Vincent +tiptoed toward the library; he felt that he could never make a loud noise +in that house again. "An awful shock," he repeated. "We all felt it." + +"What do you mean?" Foster laid an impatient hand on the old +servant's shoulder. + +"Why, sir, he's dead...." + +"Whitney?" The question sprang simultaneously from Foster and Miller. + +"No, no, sir. Mr. Sinclair Spencer, sir. He was murdered"--Vincent +shuddered as the last word crossed his lips. + +His hearers stared stupidly at each other, and then at the butler. "Who +murdered him?" asked Miller, the first to recover speech. + +"We don't know--they say Julie; leastways we only know for positive that +Miss Kathleen was with him ..." + +Miller turned first white then red, and an angry gleam lit his eye as he +stepped nearer the agitated servant. + +"That will do. Go tell Mr. Whitney we are here," and his tone caused +Vincent to hurry away in deep resentment. + +Foster gazed dazedly at Miller. "What can have happened?" he asked. "Was +Spencer so foolish as to bait Winslow ..." + +"Careful," cautioned Miller, his quick ear detecting a footstep in the +adjoining drawing-room. An instant later Miss Kiametia Grey stepped into +the library. + +"Thank goodness you have come," she exclaimed, darting toward Foster. +"I've wanted you so much ..." + +"My darling"--Foster, forgetful of Miller's presence, clasped her hand in +both of his. + +"There--there--this isn't any time for sentiment," and Miss Kiametia's +chilly tone recalled the Senator to the fact that they were not alone. +Looking a trifle foolish, he dropped her hand and stepped back. + +"What can I do for you?" he asked, coldly. "You said you needed me." + +"Well, so I do, as legal adviser," with unflattering emphasis. "Good +morning, Captain Miller; I did not recognize you at first. I suppose you +have both heard of Sinclair Spencer's tragic death." + +"Yes, but none of the particulars," answered Miller. "And also that +Kathleen is ill. Do tell me how she is," and though he strove to conceal +his anxiety, his manner betrayed his emotion to the sharp-eyed spinster. + +"The doctor gave her an opiate," she said quickly. "She will be herself +again when she awakes. Her condition does not worry me." She hesitated, +shot a quick furtive look at Miller's intent face, and added: "But I am +alarmed by the mystery surrounding Sinclair Spencer's death." + +"Tell us the details," urged Foster. + +"Details," echoed the spinster. "There are none. We were awakened this +morning by Kathleen's screams, rushed into the hall and found her in the +elevator with Sinclair Spencer's dead body. She appeared completely +unstrung, could make no coherent statement, and when the doctor came, was +given an opiate." She paused and looked hopelessly at the two men. "We +know no more of the murder than that." + +"We must wait until Kathleen awakens," said Whitney, and Miss Kiametia +started violently at the sound of his voice; so absorbed had the others +been in her remarks that his quiet entrance a few minutes before had +passed unnoticed. "I trust that she will then be more composed." + +"Did she say nothing to you and Minna when you were with her before the +doctor arrived?" questioned Miss Kiametia, smothering her eagerness with +difficulty. + +"Nothing that made sense." Whitney ran his fingers through his gray hair +until it stood upright. "She babbled Spencer's name, alternating with the +moaning cry, '_Kaiser blumen_.'" + +"'_Kaiser blumen_!' What in the world--" The spinster checked her hasty +speech on catching sight of Detective Mitchell loitering just inside the +library door. "Do you want to see Mr. Whitney?" she asked, raising her +voice a trifle, and all turned to face the detective as he advanced +toward them. Bowing gravely to Senator Foster and Captain Miller, +Mitchell stopped opposite the spinster, but his first remark was directed +to Whitney. + +"Your wife tells me, sir, that the French maid, Julie, has been in your +employ over four years." + +"She has," acknowledged Whitney, making no effort to conceal his +impatience. "Will you kindly postpone your questions, Mitchell, until +later; I desire to converse with my friends now." + +"I will intrude but a moment longer." Mitchell slipped one hand inside +his coat pocket. "When will it be convenient, sir, for you to take me +into your studio?" + +Whitney looked at the detective as if he did not believe his ears. + +"Why the devil should I take you through my studio?" he thundered, his +anger rising. "I take no one there--you understand, no one." + +"Pardon me, these are exceptional circumstances. As an officer of the law +it is my duty to examine the entire premises where a crime has been +committed. On reaching your attic, I found the door leading to your +studio locked, and I have come downstairs, sir, to ask you to take me +into that room." + +"And I absolutely refuse." + +"In that case, sir," there was a steely glint in Mitchell's eyes +which betokened trouble, "I shall send for a locksmith and have the +bolt forced." + +"Wait," Foster laid a restraining hand on Whitney's shoulder as the +latter made a hasty step in the detective's direction. "I assure you, +Mitchell, that the so-called studio is Mr. Whitney's workshop; he is, as +you no doubt know, an inventor." Whitney opened his mouth to speak, then +closed his jaws with a snap. "Mr. Whitney is now engaged upon a most +important invention. It is quite natural that he does not wish...." + +"It is hardly a matter of wishes, Mr. Senator," broke in Mitchell. "A +murder has been committed here, and it is imperative that everything be +done to apprehend and convict the criminal." + +"Ha!" Whitney's snort was almost a triumphant challenge. His altered +demeanor did not escape the shrewd eyes watching him so keenly. "So you +think I murdered Spencer?" + +"I have not said what I think," retorted the detective brusquely. "Come, +sir, we are wasting time; take me over your studio at once." + +Whitney's haggard face reddened with anger; twice he opened and shut his +mouth, then thinking better of his first impulse, he turned on his heel. + +"Follow me," he directed ungraciously. As he stepped toward the doorway +he looked back and encountered Miller's intent gaze. The Captain's gray +eyes, their devil-may-care sparkle dampened by anxiety for Kathleen, +broad forehead, and firm mouth inspired confidence. He looked a man whose +word could be relied on. Whitney, harassed by conflicting doubts, and +agonizing apprehensions, acted on impulse. "Come with us, Captain. We'll +be right back, Kiametia; you and Foster wait for us here." + +By common consent the three men avoided the elevator and walked up +stairs. On reaching the attic, Whitney made at once for his studio and +inserting keys in the double lock turned the wards, and opened the door. + +"Go in," he said, and waited until the two men had preceded him in the +room, then entered and closed the door, shooting the inner bolt. The +detective looked around as the faint click of the metal caught his ear. +"Force of habit," explained Whitney. "Hurry and make your examination, +Mitchell; I wish to rejoin my friends downstairs as quickly as possible. +Have a seat, Captain?" + +But Miller declined, and stood watching Mitchell as he made a thorough +search of the apartment. Nothing escaped his attention, and such +furniture as the room boasted was minutely scrutinized, even the Cooper +Hewitt lights and cylinder arc lights being switched on to assist in the +examination. Models, large sink, darkroom, cabinets, tool chest, drawing +tables, and small chemical laboratory were subjected to a thorough +search. Miller's silent wonder grew; nowhere did he perceive a model +resembling a camera, or the camera itself. + +Whitney, sitting astride an ordinary wooden chair, followed the +detective's movements with sardonic amusement, which now and then found +vent in a grim smile. Whitney's expression was not lost upon Miller, who, +finding him a more interesting study than Mitchell, watched him intently +while appearing to be deeply engaged in examining an elevator model. + +"Isn't this the design copied in building your elevator, Mr. +Whitney?" he asked. + +"Yes; that is the model I made when the elevator was built. It was one of +the first installed in a private residence in Washington." + +"It is somewhat different from others that I have seen," commented the +detective, replacing a bottle carefully on a shelf. "The cage is so very +shallow in depth and so long in width." + +"I had to cut my coat according to my cloth," curtly. "This house is very +old and the outer walls are of unusual thickness, also the inner ones, +which accounts for the peculiar shape of the elevator. The brick shaft +had to be built to conform to the walls and staircase. I also invented +that safety air brake catch," he added, as Miller ran the elevator to the +top of the shaft and released the cage with a sudden jerk. The elevator +slipped down a flight, then automatically adjusted itself and stopped. + +"A clever idea," said Miller admiringly. "When I first used your +elevator, Mr. Whitney, I was struck by its unexpected capacity to hold +six people. Its shallowness is deceptive." + +"That's so." Whitney stared at the clock suggestively. "Kathleen, as a +child, used to slip in unseen, and as the majority of the people enter +the elevator facing the floor button plate with their backs to where she +stood, she gave her governesses many scares." + +The detective stopped to examine the elevator model carefully, and +pressed the button marked "Attic." "Persons entering the elevator +instinctively pull to the inner door with their left hand and push the +floor button with the right, and they would be standing with their backs +to where Spencer lay," he said. + +"And anyone could have started the elevator without knowing of his +presence," put in Miller softly, and the detective nodded assent. + +"You have no floor indicator connected with the elevator, Mr. Whitney," +commented Mitchell thoughtfully. + +"No." Whitney rose abruptly. "Finished your search?" Not waiting for a +reply he prepared to leave, and a covert sneer crossed his lips as he +asked, "Found anything criminal?" + +"Only these bottles," indicating the shelves near the laboratory. +"There's enough poison here to kill a regiment." + +"And only for use in photography," Whitney busied himself in adjusting +shades which the detective had raised or lowered the better to see the +room. "Rather a commentary on the laws governing the sale of poisons, +Mitchell; can't buy them at a druggist's, but any man, woman, or child +can go into a photographic supply store and buy any quantity of deadly +poison and no questions asked." + +"Perhaps," was Mitchell's sole comment, as he removed a stopper from a +blue glass bottle and sniffed at its contents. + +"Hm! You are of an inquiring turn of mind." Whitney's eyes contracted +suddenly. "May I remind you that Spencer, whose death you are +investigating, was stabbed." + +"With a dull knife," answered Mitchell, setting down the bottle. "And it +must have taken muscular force to drive the knife home." + +Whitney was suddenly conscious of both men's full regard, and his thin, +wiry figure stiffened. His eyes snapped with pent-up feeling. + +"Is a man to be convicted of crime because it is physically possible for +him to commit murder?" he demanded harshly, and not waiting for an answer +unbolted the door. "I fear, Mitchell, you have wasted both my time and +yours. Remember this, sir." He stepped directly in front of the +detective. "Those making a charge must prove it. Now go." + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +A QUESTION OF LOYALTY + + +Miss Kiametia Grey waited until the sound of Whitney's, Miller's and the +detective's footsteps had died away down the hall before addressing +Senator Foster. + +"Suppose we sit over there," she suggested, indicating a large +leather sofa, and not waiting for his assent, walked over to it and +seated herself. + +The sofa stood with its back to one of the windows, and from its broad +seat its occupants would have a complete view of the attractive library +with its massive furniture, huge old-fashioned chimney, and +bookcase-lined walls. Foster, following Miss Kiametia, was startled by a +glimpse of her face as she stepped into the sunlight whose merciless rays +betrayed the new lines about her closely compressed lips. A touch of +rouge enhanced her pallor. Suddenly conscious of his intent regard she +seated herself, turning her back squarely to the light. + +"Sit there," she exclaimed pettishly, pointing to a Morris chair which +stood close to the sofa. "I prefer to have the person I'm talking to +face me." Without remark Foster made himself comfortable, first, however, +pulling down the shade to protect his eyes from the glare of sunlight. + +"We can't be overheard," began Miss Kiametia. "At least I don't think we +can," and her sharp glance roved inquiringly about the room. "What was +Sinclair Spencer doing in that elevator?" + +"Going downstairs," hazarded the Senator, "or up." + +"Or waiting." + +"Eh?" Foster shot a quick look at her. "Waiting? What for?" + +"That is what we have to discover," and Miss Kiametia sat back and folded +her hands. + +"Yours is hardly a reasonable supposition. People do not usually wait in +elevators, Kiametia." + +"There's no law against it," was her tart reply. "I have very good reason +to believe Spencer was _not_ going out of the house." + +"May I ask what that reason is?" + +"He wore no shoes," and for an instant a smile hovered on her lips as she +caught his startled expression. She was woman enough to enjoy creating a +sensation, and it was not often that she surprised the Senator. + +"Is that so!" he exclaimed thoughtfully. "That puts a somewhat different +complexion on the matter." + +"It does. Why was Sinclair Spencer gallivanting about this house in his +stocking feet?" + +Foster played with his watch chain. "Upon my word, I don't know," he +replied at last. + +"Well, you might hazard a guess." But Foster's only answer was a negative +shake of his head. "Pshaw! use your imagination--suppose Spencer was +unduly inquisitive about Winslow's invention--" + +"Stop, Kiametia!" Foster held up a warning hand. "You are treading on +dangerous ground. Be sure of your facts before suggesting that a man of +Winslow's known integrity is involved in--murder." + +"How you men do jump at conclusions," grumbled Miss Kiametia. "I believe +Julie, the maid, killed Spencer because she found him snooping around +where he had no business to be." + +"Why should the maid play watchdog?" + +"Because she's French, stupid; and I believe, firmly believe, Sinclair +Spencer was in the pay of Germany. Both he and the maid were after +Winslow's invention, one to steal, the other to protect." + +"You have astonishing theories." Foster leaned back and regarded her in +silence, then resumed, "Suppose you give me an exact account of what +transpired this morning." + +He listened with rapt attention to the spinster's graphic description of +the finding of Kathleen and Sinclair Spencer in the elevator. + +"Strange, very strange," he muttered, as she brought the recital to an +end. "How did Kathleen come to enter the elevator without seeing its +occupant?" + +"You take it for granted that Spencer was dead at that time?" asked +the spinster. + +A look of horror crept into Foster's eyes. "Kiametia, what do you mean to +insinuate? Your question implies--" + +"Nothing," hastily. "I only want you, with your sane common sense, to +kill an intolerable doubt. Kathleen cannot--_cannot_ know anything of +this crime." + +"If you doubt, why not ask Kathleen how and when she came to be in the +elevator with Spencer's dead body?" + +"Kathleen is still under the effects of the opiate, and you heard what +Winslow said a few minutes ago about her behavior before the +physician's arrival." + +"Don't worry." Foster laid a soothing hand on hers. "Kathleen's condition +is not surprising under the circumstances; the shock of finding +Spencer's dead body was quite enough to produce hysteria and irrational +conduct. When herself, her explanations will clear up the mystery. +Therefore, why harbor a doubt of her innocence?" + +"If you had seen the expression of her eyes," exclaimed Miss Kiametia. +"It betrayed more than shock and horror. If ever I saw mental anguish +depicted, a naked soul in torment, I saw it then. God help the child!" +She paused and stared at Foster. "Why should Kathleen betray such +emotion? Sinclair Spencer was less than nothing to her." + +"He was very attentive," said Foster slowly. "I have even heard it +reported last fall that they were engaged." + +"Engaged? Fiddlesticks!" Miss Kiametia's head went up in a style +indicative of battle. "Imagine Kathleen caring for a man who openly +boasted he had held the best blood of America in his arms--she isn't that +kind of girl!" + +"Come, Spencer wasn't so unattractive," protested Foster. "I hold no +brief for him; in fact, some of his business transactions were shady; but +upon my word, he was exceedingly good-looking, and if I remember rightly, +you encouraged him to come to your apartment." + +"I've done some remarkably stupid things occasionally," said Miss +Kiametia composedly. "That was one of them." + +"Kiametia!" called a voice in the hallway, and the next moment the +portières parted and Mrs. Whitney walked into the library. "Oh, there you +are, my dear; I feared you had gone. I am so glad to see you, Senator," +clasping Foster's extended hand warmly. "Winslow and I both hoped you +could come to us. We want your advice." + +"I am entirely at your disposal." As he spoke, Foster dragged forward a +comfortable chair. "Sit here, Mrs. Whitney; you look quite done up," and +his sympathetic tone and manner brought tears to her hot, tired eyes. + +"It is such a comfort to see two such dear friends," she said, looking +gratefully at them. "And to talk to you openly, away from those dreadful +detectives. I haven't had an opportunity to speak privately to Winslow. +Detective Mitchell is his shadow." + +"A little brief authority," Foster shrugged his shoulders. "How is +Kathleen?" + +"Sleeping, thank God!" Mrs. Whitney lowered her voice. "I really feared +for her reason before the doctor came. I could not soothe her, or quiet +her wild weeping." She stopped to glance hastily over her shoulder. +"Vincent said something about Captain Miller having called--is the +Captain here?" + +"He has gone upstairs with your husband and Detective Mitchell," answered +Foster. "Tell me, Mrs. Whitney, was Sinclair Spencer visiting you for any +length of time?" + +"Oh, no; his stopping here last night was quite unexpected; in fact so +unexpected to me that I accidentally put Kiametia in the same room +with him." + +"I didn't stay there," hastily ejaculated the spinster, crimsoning. "The +moment I saw him in bed, I fled." + +"Was he asleep?" questioned Foster; Miss Kiametia had not told him these +details in her description of events at the Whitney residence. + +"I presume so; his eyes were closed--thank goodness!" she added under +her breath, and quickly changed the subject "Any news of Julie's +whereabouts, Minna?" + +"Apparently not; I telephoned to Police Headquarters half an hour ago, +and the desk sergeant said they had found no trace of her." + +"Where is your maid's bedroom, Mrs. Whitney?" asked Foster. + +"She rooms with the cook on the third floor." + +"What does the cook say about Julie's disappearance?" + +"She is as mystified as the rest of us; declares Julie went to bed at the +same time she did, and that when she awoke this morning, the covers on +Julie's bed were thrown back. Thinking Julie had preceded her downstairs, +she dressed and attended to her usual duties. It was not until I rang for +Julie that the other servants realized that none of them had seen her +this morning. Not one, apparently, has the faintest idea as to when she +disappeared, and where." + +"So!" ejaculated Foster unbelievingly. "I imagine the police will jog +their memories." + +"Let us hope they will succeed in finding Julie," snapped Miss Kiametia. +"I confess the situation is getting on my nerves. If she committed the +murder, she should suffer for it. If not, she should come forward and +prove her innocence." + +"It is essential that Julie be found," agreed Foster. "For my +part, I...." + +"Beg pardon, sir," and Vincent approached. "This note has just come for +you," presenting his silver salver to the Senator. "There's no answer, +sir. The clerk at the Portland sent the messenger here with it, as it was +marked 'Immediate.'" + +With a word of apology to his companions, Foster tore open the envelope +and hastily scanned the written lines. + +"I must leave at once," he announced, carefully placing the note in his +leather wallet. "I had forgotten entirely that I had an important +business engagement. Please tell Winslow, Mrs. Whitney, that I will come +back this evening; and you must both count on me if there is anything I +can do for you." + +"Won't you wait for Captain Miller?" asked Miss Kiametia, concealing her +disappointment at the abrupt termination of the interview. + +"Miller? I'm afraid not. Please tell him I was called away and that I +leave my touring car at his service." + +"If you plan to do that, may I get your chauffeur to take me home?" asked +Miss Kiametia quickly. + +"Why, of course; I only wish that I could accompany you." Foster +wavered, he desired most ardently to see the spinster alone, but the +note was urgent, and considering the source, could not be ignored. +"Good-bye." Shaking hands warmly with Mrs. Whitney and Miss Kiametia, he +hastily departed. + +Foster's appointment consumed over an hour, and on leaving the +government building where it had taken place, he walked aimlessly through +the city streets, so deep in thought that he gave no heed to the +direction he was taking. His absorption blinded him to the appearance of +an inconspicuously dressed, heavily veiled woman who, at sight of him, +shrank back under cover of the archway leading to a movie theater, until +he had passed safely up the street. She was about to step out on the +sidewalk again when the sight of a man walking rapidly down the street in +the direction Foster had disappeared, caused her to remain in partial +concealment. The woman peered at the last man irresolutely, while +pretending to examine a gaudy, flaring poster of the movie, one hand +pressed to her rapidly beating heart. Coming to a sudden decision, she +hastened after him, and nearing an intersecting street, overtook him. + +"Captain Miller," she called timidly, and at sound of his name, Miller +turned toward her. + +"Yes?" his hand raised toward his hat at sight of a woman. "You +called me?" + +"Yes, Captain." She drew nearer. "You do not recognize me, but"--sinking +her voice--"I am Julie." + +"Julie?" he echoed. + +"_Oui, monsieur_," in rapid French. "Mademoiselle Kathleen's maid. Ah, +monsieur, for the love you bear her, advise _me_ now. It is for her sake, +not for mine." + +The Captain eyed her intently. "I don't catch your meaning," he said, in +her native tongue. + +"You have surely heard, Captain, of the death of that devil, +Spencer"--Behind her veil, the Frenchwoman's eyes sparkled with rage. +"Well, Captain, his death was--justified." + +"I have no doubt of it," agreed her companion. "But, in the eyes of the +law, it will be termed...." + +"Murder." Her white lips barely formed the word, and she glanced +fearfully behind her. Her half-conscious action recalled the Captain to +their surroundings, and he, too, glanced up the street. Apparently they +had it to themselves; in that unfrequented part of the city there were +few passers-by. The Captain's eyes narrowed; he preferred never to be +conspicuous; a crowded street was more to his liking. + +"Suppose we move on," he suggested, but the Frenchwoman held back. + +"I have spent all the morning at the moving pictures," she said. "There +it is dark. Let us find another." + +"Very well; we can talk as we go," and the Captain suited his step to +hers. "And suppose also that we confine our remarks to English." + +"As monsieur pleases." She half repented her impulsive act. She had +intrusted her secret to another. Would that other prove loyal? A faint +shiver crept down her spine, and she pressed one mitted hand over the +other. "I seek seclusion, monsieur, because--I know too much." + +"'A little knowledge'"--the Captain did not finish the quotation. "Let us +turn down here," and not waiting for her consent, he piloted her up a +side street. "You do not, then, wish to make a confidant of the police?" + +"_Non, non, monsieur_," lapsing again into rapid French. "I think only of +Mademoiselle." + +A sudden gleam lighted the Captain's eyes. "Kathleen," his voice lingered +on her name. "You think she is in danger?" + +"I do, monsieur, in great danger. Did I not see"--she paused in her +hasty speech and bit her tongue; one indiscretion was leading to another. +"It matters not what I saw, monsieur--I am sometimes nearsighted." + +"In that case, your eyes will be examined if testifying in a trial for +murder," and he smiled covertly as he saw the fear tugging at her +heart-strings. "Enough, Julie; I will respect your confidences. You +know--how, I do not inquire--of my deep affection for Mademoiselle +Kathleen...." + +"Who would not love her?" broke in Julie passionately. "So generous, so +fearless and loyal! Ah! she will be faithful to France--she will guard +her father's secret--aye, even to the bitter end." + +"Hush! not so loud," admonished the Captain, laying a steadying hand on +her arm. "Let me think a moment." Totally unconscious of the tears which +fell one by one on her white cheeks, the excited Frenchwoman kept step +with him in silence for three blocks; then the Captain roused himself. +"You are willing to shield Mademoiselle Kathleen at all costs?" he asked. + +"_Oui, monsieur._" + +"And you think you can best accomplish that result by avoiding the +police?" + +"_Oui, monsieur_." + +"Have you money?" + +"A little, monsieur." She turned her troubled countenance toward him. "I +cannot travel far." + +"It is wiser not to travel at all." The Captain slackened his walk before +an unpretentious red brick residence. "The landlady of this house takes +paying guests and asks no questions. Here you can remain _perdue_," with +emphasis, "and no one inside will trouble you; but be cautious, Julie, +how you venture on the street day or night." + +"But, monsieur"--Julie drew back--"I do not fear for myself, only for +mademoiselle, and I like not to be indoors all day. The police, they will +only trouble me with questions should I return to the Whitneys." + +"If you do not return to the Whitneys, Julie, the police will think +you guilty." + +"Me, monsieur?" + +"Yes." + +"But--but--" stammered the Frenchwoman, overwhelmed. "I have committed no +crime. I but left because I could not bear to tell what I know." + +"Your departure is construed as a confession of guilt." The Captain bent +his handsome face nearer hers. "It is only a question, Julie, of the +depth of your affection for Mademoiselle Kathleen. Are you willing to +shield her at all costs?" + +The Frenchwoman faltered for a second, then drew herself proudly erect. +"_Oui, monsieur_. Mademoiselle was kind to me when I lost all--my lover, +my brothers died for France. There is no one who cares for me now but +mademoiselle. I shall not betray her." + +"Good!" The Captain wrung her hand. "Come," and he led the way into +the house. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +THE GAME, "I SPY" + + +Barely pausing to dip his pen in the inkstand, Charles Miller covered +sheet after sheet of thin paper with his fine legible writing. As he +reached the final word he laid down his pen and stretched his cramped +fingers and gently rubbed one hand over the other. For the first time +conscious of the chill atmosphere, he rose and moved about the room. +Stopping before the steam heater to turn it on, he walked back to his +desk and carefully read what he had written, correcting a phrase here and +there. Finally satisfied with the result, he selected an envelope and +placing the papers inside, sealed and addressed it. For a second he held +the envelope poised over the unstained blotting-paper, then raising it +gently, breathed on the still wet ink. At last convinced that it was dry, +he placed the envelope in the pocket of his bathrobe, and picking up his +pajamas went into the bathroom which opened out of his bedroom, and +closed the door. + +Five seconds, fifteen seconds passed, then the long curtains before the +window alcove gently parted and a man looked into the empty room. With +head and shoulders protruding he waited until the sound of running water +reached his ears, then advanced softly into the room. The desk was his +objective point, and his nimble fingers made quick work of sorting its +meager contents. His search was unrewarded; there was not a scrap of +incriminating writing in any drawer, and the neat pile of blotting-paper +was untouched. + +The intruder's expression altered; curiosity gave way to doubt. Without +wasting time he replaced every article where he found it, pausing +occasionally to listen to the sound of splashing coming from behind the +closed bathroom door. Convinced there was no immediate danger of +interruption from that quarter, he walked swiftly to the closet and +minutely examined Miller's clothing. Just as he was leaving the closet a +box-shaped leather bag marked "Underwood" attracted his attention, and +pushing aside a bundle of soiled underclothing, he knelt down and +inserted a skeleton key in the lock, and after a second's work, forced +back the wards and opened the lid of the box. The typewriter it contained +proved uninteresting, and putting back everything as he had found it, he +returned to the window by which he had entered. Pushing it open, he +climbed out on the ledge and, closing the window behind him, by the aid +of ropes swung himself over to a near-by fire escape and disappeared +inside a room opening from it. + +The slight sound occasioned by the closing of his bedroom window was +drowned in Miller's cheery whistle as he emerged from the bathroom. +Refreshed and invigorated by his bath, he switched off the lights and +climbed into bed. + +The sunlight was streaming in the windows when he awoke, and it was a +full minute before his sleepy senses grasped the fact that someone was +pounding on the hall door. Hastily donning his bathrobe, he turned the +key and opened the door. Henry, the Whitneys' chauffeur, was standing on +the threshold. + +"May I have a word with you, sir?" he asked. + +"Certainly, come in," and Miller, conscious of his negligé attire and +that two pretty women were passing down the hall, precipitously retreated +into his bedroom. "Shut the door after you." He waited until his order +had been followed, then demanded impetuously: "How is Miss Kathleen?" + +"Better, sir." + +"Thank God!" The fervid exclamation escaped him unwittingly, and a faint +tinge of red stained his cheeks as he met Henry's attentive regard. "Did +you give her my note?" + +"I sent it to her by the nurse, sir; Miss Kathleen still keeps her room," +said Henry respectfully. "Vincent tells me that she refused even to see +her mother and father." + +"Have you an answer for me?" as the servant paused. + +"The nurse came to the kitchen and gave me these"--pulling a letter and +package out of his pocket--"to deliver personally to you, sir; Miss +Kathleen asked to have them sent at once." + +Taking them Miller examined the addresses; the note was the one he had +written Kathleen, and the package bore the label of a prominent jeweler, +upon which was written Kathleen's full name in Miller's handwriting. Both +were unopened. Miller placed them in his pocket with unmoved face. + +"Why did you not deliver them to me last night?" he asked curtly. + +"I started to, sir, but seeing you walking with Baron von Fincke down +Massachusetts Avenue, sir, I...." Henry's eyes wavered and fell before +Miller's scrutiny. + +"Followed me?" prompted the latter, bending forward. + +"Only a little way"--quickly. "I did not like to intrude, sir, and by +following hoped to get a chance to give you Miss Kathleen's package and +note. I lost sight of you at Thomas Circle, sir, and went home. That is +the gospel truth, sir, as sure as my name is--Heinrich." + +Miller viewed the chauffeur in silence. "So!" he exclaimed, and a pleased +smile brightened his face. "Naturalized, or born in this country?" + +"Born here, sir, of naturalized parents." The chauffeur twisted his cap +nervously. "German-American, sir." + +"There is no such thing, Heinrich." Miller's voice deepened. "The hyphen +cannot be recognized. You are either American or German." + +The chauffeur straightened himself, and his heels clicked together as he +raised his hand in salute. + +"Hoch der Kaiser!" + +The words were echoed by Miller as he sprang forward and grasped the +chauffeur's hand. "For the Fatherland!" he added in German. "Why have you +not declared yourself before?" + +"Until last night, Herr Captain, I was not absolutely sure you were one +of us. But later in the evening Baron von Fincke...." + +"Stood sponsor for me," finished Miller, thrusting his hand in his pajama +pocket, and thereby pushing an envelope still deeper in it. "What have +you to report? Wait, speak English; the walls have ears." + +The chauffeur whitened and moved closer to Miller. "Was Mr. Spencer in +your confidence?" + +"No." + +"And the Baron did not trust him," said Heinrich, reflectively. "If he +was not one of us, how came he to be killed?" + +"God knows." Miller threw out his hands in a hopeless gesture. "I don't." + +"But there must be some motive for the crime," argued the chauffeur. +"Miss Kathleen must have suspected something before taking ..." Powerful +hands on his throat choked his utterance. + +"Never mention Miss Kathleen's name in that connection again," commanded +Miller, his voice low and stern. "You hear me, you dog!" and he shook +Heinrich until his teeth rattled, then released him. + +"Pardon," gasped the badly frightened man. "I meant no offense." + +"See that you follow my instructions hereafter." + +"Yes, sir"--Heinrich caressed his throat tenderly, and looked at Miller +with a new respect. "I was only going to mention, sir, that Mr. Spencer +meddled in what did not concern him. I believe he suspected what I have +come to believe." + +"And what is that?" + +"That this photography business is only a blind." + +"A blind?" Miller looked thoughtfully at his companion. "Suppose you pull +up a chair; wait, first hang your cap over the keyhole of the hall door." +While waiting for Heinrich to follow his instructions Miller seated +himself. "A blind?" he repeated. "No, no, Heinrich, you are mistaken; Mr. +Whitney has invented a very perfect aeroplane camera, of that I am +thoroughly convinced. And our country needs it...." + +"Undoubtedly, sir," Heinrich almost stuttered in his growing excitement. +"But he has invented something that we need more...." + +"What is that?" + +"I don't know, sir." + +Miller, who had been leaning forward in his eagerness, drew back. "Don't +waste my time, Heinrich," he said roughly. + +"Your time won't be wasted," protested the German. "Have patience and let +me explain. I cannot manage this affair alone, I need assistance--and +--you are a frequent caller at the Whitney house...." + +"Well, what then?" + +"Mr. Whitney may be persuaded to take you to his studio ..." the +chauffeur hesitated. + +"Proceed," directed Miller shortly. "You can count on me." + +"Good," the chauffeur hitched his chair closer. "Day before yesterday I +carried a telegram up to the studio. Not hearing any sound in the room, I +carefully turned the knob of the door and found it unlocked. For months I +have tried that door, hoping for just such luck," he interpolated. +"Opening it very softly, I saw Mr. Whitney standing with his back to me, +and facing the muzzle of a rifle. I had only time to note that the rifle +was braced on two iron brackets and that Mr. Whitney was holding a string +which was attached to the trigger; when I saw a flash, the rifle's +recoil--and Mr. Whitney still standing just where he was." + +Miller stared incredulously at Heinrich, down whose face sweat was +running; the man was obviously telling the truth--at least, what he +believed to be the truth. + +"Wake up, Heinrich," he said skeptically, and the chauffeur +flushed hotly. + +"It's God's truth I'm telling you," he declared solemnly. "For the sake +of the Fatherland, believe me." + +"I will," and Miller's fist came softly down on his desk. "Did you hear +no report?" + +"None; there was a Maxim silencer on the rifle." "I see--and blank +cartridges in the breech." + +"That is what I first thought on seeing Mr. Whitney still standing," +admitted Heinrich. "I believed he was trying to commit suicide. Then I +heard him exclaim: 'God be thanked! I've solved the problem; it stood +the test.'" + +"Hardly a suicide's speech." Miller stared at Heinrich. "Probably he was +testing the Maxim silencer." + +"No, Herr Captain." The chauffeur almost jumbled his words over each +other in his haste. "An instant after the flash, I saw Mr. Whitney sway +upon his feet, recover his balance, and stand upright." + +"The blast of powder must have caused that." + +"He was fully the length of the room from the muzzle of the rifle. There +were no powder marks on his vest and coat when he opened the door in +response to my knock a few minutes later. You see, Herr Captain, as soon +as I got back my wits, I closed the door. When Mr. Whitney pulled out +his gold pencil from his vest pocket to sign for the telegram I heard +something drop on the floor, and letting the receipt slip fall, I +stooped over and picked up with it--this--" and he laid on the desk a +Mauser bullet. + +Miller examined it curiously. His companion was the first to break the +silence. "It is flattened on one side, Herr Captain." + +"I see it is." Miller weighed the bullet in his hand. "You have something +more to tell me, Heinrich; out with it." + +"Yes, Herr Captain. That night I bribed Vincent to let me valet Mr. +Whitney, and I found the vest he wore that afternoon. In it, over the +heart, was a round hole." + +"Did the bullet fit it?" + +"Exactly." There was a protracted silence, which the chauffeur broke with +a question. "What do you make out of it, sir?" + +Miller did not answer directly. "Was Mr. Whitney wearing his ordinary +business suit?" he inquired. + +"Yes, Herr Captain." + +"You are sure he wore nothing over it?" + +"Absolutely positive." + +Miller handed back the bullet. "It rather looks as if Mr. Whitney has +invented some wearing apparel which Mauser bullets cannot penetrate," he +said slowly, "or else...." + +"Yes, Herr Captain." + +"You are a great liar." + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +AT THE MORGUE + + +Shortly before three o'clock on that same afternoon in which Heinrich had +confided in Miller, dashing turnouts and limousines, their smartly +liveried coachmen and chauffeurs asking now and then the direction from +street-crossing policeman, trotted and tooted their way down busy Seventh +Street toward the wharves, their destination a modest two-storied +stuccoed building bearing the words, "D. C. Morgue." The inquest on +Sinclair Spencer was to be held there at three o'clock. + +Spencer's tragic death twenty-four hours before had indeed created a +sensation in the nation's Capital. The wildest rumors were afloat. Was it +deliberate murder or suicide? The press, ever keen to scent sensational +news, had devoted much space to the little known facts and hinted at even +more startling developments; all of which but whetted the curiosity of +the public. The social prominence of the Whitneys had precipitated them +still further into the limelight; not often did the smart set have so +choice a titbit to discuss, and gossip ran riot. It had few facts to +thrive upon, as both the coroner and the police refused to give out the +slightest detail. + +"Good gracious!" ejaculated Miss Kiametia, as the touring car in which +she and Senator Foster were riding threaded its tooting way through the +many vehicles. "This street resembles Connecticut Avenue on Saturday +afternoon. Where _is_ the morgue?" + +"Right here," and Foster sprang out of the car with alacrity as it drew +up to the curb. He had been, for his cheery temperament, singularly +morose, and Miss Kiametia's attempt to make conversation during their +ride had failed. The spinster's talkativeness was a sure indication that +her nerves were on edge; she usually kept guard upon her tongue. + +"Do you suppose the Whitneys are here?" she asked, adjusting her veil +with nervous fingers as she crossed the uneven sidewalk. + +"Probably; I imagine we are late. Look out for that swing door." +Foster put out a steadying hand. "This way," turning to the left of +the entrance. + +"One moment, sir," and Detective Mitchell, who with several others from +the Central Office had been unobtrusively keeping tab on each new +arrival, joined them. "Miss Grey, being a witness, must stay with the +others in this room. The inquest is being held in that inner room, Mr. +Senator. Will you sit over here, Miss Grey...." + +But the spinster hesitated; she relied upon Foster more than she was +willing to admit, and the promise of his presence had reconciled her to +the prospect of a trying afternoon. + +"I prefer to go with you," she objected, turning appealingly to him. + +"But, Kiametia, you can't," interposed Foster hurriedly. "The law forbids +it. I will be in the next room should you need me." He gave her hand a +reassuring squeeze, then glanced hastily about the room. In one corner +the Whitney servants, their inward perturbance showing in their white +scared faces, sat huddled together, but there was no sign of Mr. and Mrs. +Whitney and Kathleen. Apparently he and Miss Kiametia were earlier than +he had at first thought. Turning from Miss Kiametia, he addressed +Detective Mitchell in a low tone. + +"Have you caught Julie, the French maid?" he asked. + +"All developments in the case will be brought out at the inquest," +replied Mitchell politely, and Foster, his curiosity unsatisfied, walked +away. He found the room used for inquests crowded to the doors, and made +his way through the knot of men standing about, to the reporters' table, +where a seat had been reserved for him by the morgue master. Across the +east end of the room was the raised platform upon which stood a long +table and chairs for the coroner, the deputy coroner, and the witnesses, +while to their left were the six chairs for the coroner's jury. As the +Senator seated himself he spied Charles Miller among the men standing at +the back of the room. There was a vacant chair next to his, and after a +few hurried words with the coroner, Foster beckoned Miller to join him. + +"I called you up repeatedly this morning," said Miller, pushing his chair +closer to the Senator so as to make room for a reporter on his left. "But +your servant declared you were not at home." + +"I spent most of the morning at the Whitneys' and lunched with Miss Grey. +Horrible affair, this; the Whitneys are all unstrung." + +"Did you see Kathleen?" + +"No," Foster stroked his chin nervously. "She has steadily refused to see +anyone, even her parents. Her conduct is most strange." + +"I don't agree with you," warmly. "She has undergone a great shock, +finding a friend dead in an elevator...." + +"Ah, did she?" The words seemed forced from Foster; he would have given +much to recall them on seeing the look that flashed in Miller's eyes. + +"She did," he asserted tersely. "Kathleen is the soul of honor--you have +but to know her to appreciate that--she and evil can never be associated +together." + +"You are a warm champion," exclaimed Foster. "I should almost imagine--" + +"That I am engaged to her?" calmly. "Quite true, I am." + +Foster drew back. "I--I beg pardon," he stammered in some confusion. "I +had no idea affairs had progressed so far--I am sorry I spoke as I did." + +"You were but echoing what I hear on all sides," answered Miller +bitterly. + +"True," Foster nodded. "Kathleen's extraordinary silence, when by a few +words she could explain what happened yesterday morning before her +screams aroused the household, is causing unfavorable comment and +unfortunate conjecture." + +"The mystery will be explained this afternoon," and quiet confidence rang +in Miller's pleasantly modulated tones. "Hello, I see some members of the +Diplomatic Corps are present." + +"And the so-called 'four hundred,'" growled Foster. The close atmosphere +had started him coughing, and he scowled at Baron Frederic von Fincke +who was seated near by. "Where is the jury?" he asked, as soon as the +paroxysm of coughing was over. + +"Viewing the body in that room." Miller indicated a closed door to his +right. "The jury is sworn in there by the morgue master." + +As he spoke the door opened and the six men, led by the morgue master, +filed into the room and took their places, and the low hum of +conversation died away as the coroner, stepping to the platform, stated +briefly the reason for the inquest, and summoned Dr. Hall, of the +Emergency Hospital, to the witness chair. He was quickly sworn by the +morgue master, and in response to the coroner's question, stated that he +had reached the Whitney residence shortly after eight o'clock Wednesday +morning in answer to a telephone call. + +"Tell the jury what you found on your arrival," directed the coroner. + +"I was shown upstairs by the butler, whose incoherent remarks led me to +suppose that someone was ill in the elevator. On entering it I found Mr. +Spencer, whom I knew slightly, lying there dead." + +"Did you make a thorough examination?" + +"Only enough to prove that life was extinct. The butler informed me that +my services were needed by Miss Whitney, and I went at once to her." + +"In what condition did you find her?" + +"Hysterical. To quiet her, I finally administered an opiate, and sent for +a trained nurse." + +"Did you consider her case dangerous?" + +"No, but she was completely unstrung; her nervous system had undergone a +severe shock, and I feared for her mental condition if not given +immediate relief and complete rest." + +"Have you seen her today?" + +"Yes, this morning." + +"How was she?" + +"Much improved." + +"Did Miss Whitney speak to you of Mr. Spencer?" + +"She did not." + +"Did you question her on the subject of the mystery surrounding Mr. +Spencer's death?" + +"I did not. In her condition I judged it a topic to be avoided. I also +cautioned her parents not to discuss it with her unless she voluntarily +alluded to it." + +"How long had Spencer been dead, Doctor, when you saw him?" + +"I cannot answer positively, as I did not make a thorough examination, +but judging from appearances, I should say he had been dead at least +four hours." + +Miller shot a triumphant look at Foster, then turned his attention to the +coroner, who was scanning his notebook. + +"I think that is all, Doctor," he announced, "you are excused." + +There was a slight pause, and the deputy coroner, who had been taking the +testimony, laid down his pen and gently massaged his hand. The next +instant at the coroner's direction, the morgue master ushered in +Detective Mitchell. The detective, after being duly sworn, told his full +name and length of service in the District force, and briefly described +his arrival at the Whitney residence. + +"You examined the body in the elevator?" questioned the coroner. + +"Yes, Doctor." + +"Was Mr. Spencer dressed?" + +"Yes, sir, except for coat, waistcoat, collar, and shoes." + +"Are these the clothes he had on at the time of his death?" The coroner +pointed to a pile of wearing apparel lying on the desk. + +"Yes, Doctor." + +"Did you search for the weapon with which Mr. Spencer's throat +was gashed?" + +"At once, sir," answered Mitchell promptly. "At the back of the elevator +near the body I found this"--holding up a short bone-handled knife which +he took from his coat pocket. "The blade was covered with blood." + +Coroner Penfield took the knife and after examining it, handed it to the +foreman of the jury who, upon scanning it closely, passed it on to his +companions. + +"Have you ever seen such a knife before?" questioned the coroner. "The +blade is a peculiar shape." + +"Yes, sir; that shape of knife is sometimes used in modeling clay and by +glaziers when handling putty." + +Penfield and the deputy coroner exchanged glances, then the coroner +resumed his questions. "Did you examine the bedroom Mr. Spencer occupied +Tuesday night, Mitchell?" + +"I did, sir." + +"Had the bed been slept in?" + +"Apparently it had, sir. The pillows and covering had been tossed about." + +"Did you find anything in the room belonging to the deceased?" + +"Yes, the coat and waistcoat of his suit, his collar and shoes." + +"Was there any indication, besides the tossing of the bedclothes, that +the deceased had made preparations to sleep there?" + +"Yes; I found a pair of pajamas lying on the floor near the bed, +apparently hastily discarded, as they were turned wrong side out." + +"Did you examine the deceased's clothes?" + +"Yes, sir. They were what any gentleman would wear in the evening. In his +pockets I found a wallet containing twenty dollars in bills, three +dollars in loose change, and his keys. Here they are, sir," and Mitchell, +as he mentioned each ticketed article, laid them on the table before the +coroner, who examined them carefully. + +"Was there anything about the room which especially claimed your +attention?" Mitchell paused and glanced thoughtfully at his polished +shoes. "Let me alter that question," said the coroner hastily. "Did +you find any indication in the room that Mr. Spencer expected to +return to it?" + +"His clothes were there, and the electric light by the bureau was +burning, notwithstanding the fact that it was nearly nine o'clock in +the morning." + +The coroner consulted his papers, "That is all just now," and Mitchell +departed. "Ask Mr. Whitney to step here," directed Penfield, a second +afterward. + +"Beg pardon, sir," and the morgue master stepped before the platform. +"Mr. Whitney went back to his residence to escort his daughter here. Mrs. +Whitney, however, is waiting in the next room." + +"Very well, bring Mrs. Whitney here," and the coroner left his seat to +assist her to the platform. Mrs. Whitney's customary self-control and air +of good breeding had not deserted her, and whatever her inward +tribulation at appearing before a coroner's jury, it was successfully +concealed as she repeated the oath after the morgue master. + +"Your full name?" questioned Coroner Penfield. + +"Minna Caswell Whitney, daughter of the late Judge William Caswell, of +New York." + +"You were married to Winslow Whitney in--" + +"1896." + +"And you have resided in Washington since then?" + +"Yes, except in the summer months when we went to our home in +Massachusetts or, occasionally, abroad." + +"Will you kindly state what took place at your house on Tuesday evening, +Mrs. Whitney?" + +"I entertained the Sisters in Unity, and afterward went to bed." The +concise reply wrung a smile from Foster. + +"At what hour did the members of your club depart?" + +"A little before one o'clock, Wednesday morning." + +"Then did you go direct to bed?" + +"No, I first showed Miss Kiametia Grey who, owing to an attack of +faintness, was spending the night at my home, to her room; then I +retired." + +"Were you aware that Mr. Spencer was also spending the night under +your roof?" + +"Not until Miss Grey informed me of the fact; I had inadvertently +placed her in the same room with Mr. Spencer. I immediately took her to +another room." + +"Was Mr. Spencer's bedroom in darkness when you ushered Miss Grey into +it?" + +"It was." + +"Did not your husband tell you of Mr. Spencer's presence?" + +"I did not see my husband until Wednesday morning; he had gone to his +studio in the attic when I went to my bedroom. He frequently works all +night on his inventions." + +"Were you awakened during the night by any noise?" + +"No." + +"Did you see your daughter before retiring?" + +"No." + +"Did she attend the meeting of your club?" + +"No, she is not a member." + +"When did you first hear of Mr. Spencer's death?" + +"The next morning, when my daughter's screams aroused the household." + +"How long has Julie Genet, your French maid, been in your employ?" + +"Four years." + +"Have you heard from her since her disappearance?" + +"No." + +"Was she acquainted with Mr. Spencer?" + +"I really don't know." + +The coroner flushed at her tone. "Was Julie discontented with her place?" +he asked, somewhat harshly. + +"I have no reason to suppose so; she never complained." + +"How did you come to employ her?" + +"A friend of mine brought her to this country, and a year later Julie +came to me; she was highly recommended." + +"Has she any relatives in this country to whom she might have gone?" + +"None that I ever heard of." Mrs. Whitney reflected for a second, then +added, "Julie told me some months ago that her only near relatives had +been killed in the war in France." + +"Was Julie a well trained servant?" + +"She was indeed; also good-natured, thoughtful, and obedient." + +"When did you last see Julie?" + +"Downstairs, when giving final directions to Vincent. I told her to +assist him in closing the house, and then go direct to bed; that I would +undress myself as it was so late." + +"Did she appear as usual?" + +"Yes." + +"Did you go at all to Mr. Spencer's bedroom yesterday morning after +hearing of his death?" + +"No." + +"We will not detain you longer, Mrs. Whitney," and with a slight bow to +the jurors and the coroner she made her way from the room. + +Her place was taken by Vincent, the butler, who testified that he had +gone about his work on Wednesday morning as customary, that all windows +and doors were locked as he had left them the night before, and that he +and Henry, the chauffeur, were busy replacing the drawing-room furniture, +removed the night before to make room for chairs for the meeting of the +Sisters in Unity, when startled by Miss Whitney's screams. He also stated +that having gone to bed very late, he had slept heavily and had not been +awakened until aroused at seven o'clock by the cook. His bedroom was +across the hall from the other servants. He had not realized that Julie +Genet was absent until Mrs. Whitney rang for her; he had supposed the +maid was upstairs waiting upon either her or Miss Whitney. No, Julie was +not quarrelsome; she was quiet, deeply engrossed in her own affairs, and +spent much of her time sewing in Miss Whitney's sitting-room. He had +heard that she was to have been married the previous December, but the +war had taken her fiancé back to the colors, and he had been killed in +the retreat on Paris. + +Henry, the chauffeur, was the next to testify. He admitted admiration for +Julie and stated that she had not encouraged his attentions, and the +remainder of his testimony simply corroborated that of Vincent. He did +not sleep in the Whitney residence, but took his meals there. + +When giving their testimony the chambermaid, laundress, and scullery +maid also stated they did not sleep at the Whitneys'; that Julie, while +always pleasant, kept very much to herself. They one and all declared +that they had never entered Sinclair Spencer's bedroom Wednesday morning +after the discovery of the tragedy. The coroner quickly dismissed each +one, and Rosa, the cook, looking extremely perturbed, was the last +servant to be questioned. She stated that she had not gone upstairs +Wednesday morning until noon. + +"Sure, I dunno whin Julie wint downstairs Wednesday mornin'," she +declared. "I slep' that heavy I niver hear her a'movin' around." + +"Was it her habit to get up before you did?" asked Coroner Penfield. + +"Yis, sor. She had oneasy nights, like, an' would be off downstairs at +the foist peep o' day. She brooded too much over the papers, I'm feared; +though 'twas natural to read av the divils who killed her kin and +swateheart in France." + +"Did Julie ever speak to you of Mr. Spencer?" + +"Wance or twice, maybe," admitted Rosa reluctantly. + +"Did she ever meet Mr. Spencer away from the house?" + +"Niver, sor." Rosa looked shocked. "Julie was real dacent, she niver +sought her betters' society. Nay, she was afeared Miss Kathleen might +listen to his courtin'. She didn't consider no wan good enough for Miss +Kathleen." + +"Ah, then she was fond of Miss Kathleen?" + +"Sure, fond's not the word; she was daffy about her. An' no wonder, Miss +Kathleen was that good to her; comforted her whin bad news came from the +wars, let her sit and sew wid her, and give her money to sind to France." + +"Was Julie on good terms with the other servants?" + +"Yis, sor. She and Henry had words now and thin; when Henry got teasin', +she didn't always take ut in good part." + +"Have you any idea where Julie went on leaving the Whitneys?" + +"No, sor; she has no real frinds in Washington. I dunno where she can be, +an' I'm sick o' worryin' over her." The warm-hearted Irishwoman's eyes +filled with tears. "Julie was excitable like and quicktempered, but she +niver did wrong, an' don't let yourselves be thinkin' ut." + +"There, there." The coroner laid a kindly hand on her arm. "We won't keep +you any longer, Mrs. O'Leary. Careful of that step," and as the morgue +master appeared, he asked, "Is Miss Kiametia Grey here?" + +"Yes, Doctor." + +"Then ask her to come in." He exchanged a few remarks with the deputy +coroner in a tone too low to reach the ears of the attentive reporters, +then turned back to the witness chair as Miss Kiametia seated herself. + +"We will only keep you a few minutes," he began, after the preliminary +questions had been asked the spinster. "I understand you were +accidentally shown into the bedroom already occupied by Mr. Spencer." + +"I was," stated Miss Kiametia, as the coroner paused. "Neither Mrs. +Whitney nor I was aware he was within a mile of us." + +"Did you discover his presence at once?" + +"No." The spinster's tone was short. "The bed is in an alcove, and I had +only turned on the electric bulb by the bureau; thus the room was in +partial darkness. I--eh--eh--" then with a rush--"I did not know he was +there until I was ready to get in bed." + +"Was Mr. Spencer asleep?" + +"I never waited to see." + +Coroner Penfield stifled a smile and changed the subject. "Were you +aroused during the night by any noise?" + +"No," sharply. "When once in the hall bedroom I took a pretty stiff drink +of whiskey as a nightcap, for I was feeling pretty shaky about then. +Consequently I slept soundly all through the night." + +"Was Mr. Spencer a great friend of yours?" + +"No," with uncomplimentary promptness. "But I did occasionally ask him to +large entertainments." + +"Did you see Miss Whitney before retiring on Tuesday night?" + +"No. Her mother told me she had gone to bed early." + +"Did you see Mr. Whitney?" + +"No." + +"Did you see Julie, the French maid?" + +"Not upstairs. Mrs. Whitney gave me the whiskey and a dressing-gown." + +"Can you tell me if Mr. Spencer was wearing his pajamas in bed?" + +"I cannot," dryly. + +"Did you enter Mr. Spencer's bedroom the next morning after hearing of +his death?" + +"I did not." + +"While in his room Tuesday night did you observe his clothes on a +chair or table? + +"No, and after discovering his presence, I was too keen to get out of +the room to notice anything in it." + +"Then possibly you left the light burning by the bureau?" + +"I did nothing of the sort. It is a hobby of mine never to waste gas or +electricity, and I remember distinctly stopping to put out the light +after I had picked up my clothes." + +"Quite sure, Miss Gray?" and the spinster bridled at his quizzical +glance. + +"I am willing to take my dying oath," she said solemnly, "that I left +that room in total darkness." + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +CIRCUMSTANTIAL EVIDENCE + + +"Mr. Winslow Whitney will be the next witness," announced Coroner +Penfield, first signifying to Miss Kiametia Grey that her presence was no +longer required in the witness chair, and the spinster, with an audible +sigh of relief, picked up her gold mesh purse and its dangling +accessories and hastily left the room. + +There was an instant craning of necks and raising of lorgnettes as the +door opened to admit Winslow Whitney. Courteously acknowledging the bows +of several friends seated near the entrance, he made his way to the +witness chair with a firm tread, and his clear voice was plainly heard +as, in answer to the morgue master's questions, he stated his full name, +age, and length of residence in Washington, having first taken the oath +to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. Charles +Miller, watching him intently, was relieved to find that the nervous +twitching of the muscles of his face and hands, so noticeable the day +before, was missing. Though his haggard face testified to a sleepless +night, Whitney was outwardly composed. + +"For how many years have you known Sinclair Spencer?" asked the coroner. + +"Fully ten." + +"Were you intimately acquainted?" + +"No. I knew him as I know dozens of other men; he was frequently at my +house, and on several occasions he assisted me in protecting my patents +in the law courts." + +"But you would not call him an intimate friend?" + +"Most assuredly not." + +"Was he in the habit of spending the night in your house?" + +"He has sometimes stopped with me during the summer months when I was +detained in Washington and my wife and daughter were away." + +"He was familiar with your house, then?" + +"You mean--architecturally?" + +"Yes. Could he find his way about it alone in the dark?" + +"I presume he could--provided he was sober," dryly. "The arrangement of +the rooms is not complicated, and one floor is very much like another." + +Coroner Penfield cleared his throat. "Was Mr. Spencer a welcome guest in +your house?" + +"Certainly; otherwise I should not have invited him," replied Whitney, +with quiet dignity. + +"Let me amend my question." The coroner laid down his pencil. "Was Mr. +Spencer on a friendly footing with each member of your household?" + +"I have every reason to believe he was." + +"Was Mr. Spencer's manner the same as usual when he called upon you +Tuesday evening?" + +"No." + +"In what way was it different?" + +"He had been drinking." + +"Was he rough, boisterous?" + +"The latter, yes. So much so, that I suggested he spend the night. I did +not wish him to go downstairs and disturb my wife's guests, which he was +quite capable of doing had the whim seized him." + +"Were you then upstairs, Mr. Whitney?" + +"Yes, in my wife's boudoir on the first bedroom floor." + +"When did you last see Mr. Spencer alive?" + +"When I showed him into his bedroom and loaned him a pair of pajamas." + +"Did you help him undress?" + +"No, as he assured me, with drunken gravity, that he could manage +it himself." + +"Did you inform your wife and daughter that Mr. Spencer was spending the +night in your house?" + +"No. My wife was downstairs entertaining her guests, and my daughter was +asleep in her room. I did not see either of them until the next morning." + +"Where did you go after leaving Mr. Spencer in his bedroom?" + +"To my studio in the attic. I remained there all night absorbed in my +work." + +"Did you hear any unusual sounds during the night?" + +"No; my studio, or workshop, is sound-proof. And it is the same +throughout the house," he added. "The walls, besides being of unusual +width, were all deadened by my grandfather's direction. He had a horror +of noise." + +"When did you leave your studio?" + +"About seven o'clock Wednesday morning." + +"Did you use the elevator then?" + +"No, I seldom use it." Whitney twisted about in his chair. "I had the +elevator installed for the convenience of my wife and daughter." + +Penfield made an entry in his notebook, then faced Whitney directly. + +"Have you in connection with your workshop a photographic outfit and +darkroom?" he asked. + +"I have." + +"I am told that you are working on a sort of camera which, used in an +aeroplane, makes a map of the country over which the machine passes. Is +that correct, Mr. Whitney?" + +"Yes," acknowledged Whitney. "A patent is pending." + +"Had it gotten about among your servants that you were working upon an +important invention?" + +"It's very possible," Whitney conceded. + +"Did Julie, your wife's maid, ever evince undue curiosity in your work?" + +Whitney wrinkled his brow in thought. "No," he said. "I can't say that I +am aware she did. When I go to my studio, as we usually call my workshop, +it is an understood thing that I am not to be disturbed by _anyone_. It +is a rule I enforce by dismissal if broken, and the servants have learned +by experience to obey." + +"Has your household access to your studio when you are not there?" + +"No, I securely lock the door whenever I leave the room." + +"Are you ever joined while in your studio by your wife and daughter and +their friends?" + +"Occasionally they bring Miss Grey and Senator Foster in to see my +models." + +"Did you confide the particulars of your latest invention to Mr. +Spencer?" + +"I did not." + +"Did he ever show deep interest in it?" + +"Only questioned me about it now and then," replied Whitney casually, and +Charles Miller alone noted the nervous twitching of his eyelids. + +"Was the electric light turned on in Mr. Spencer's room when you left him +for the night?" + +"Y-yes." Whitney reflected for a moment, then added, "I believe the bulb +by the bureau was burning, but I can't swear to it." + +"Did Mr. Spencer give you any inkling Tuesday night that he intended to +be an early riser on Wednesday morning?" + +"No, he never mentioned the subject." + +"Was it his custom on previous visits, to walk about your house before +the servants were up?" + +"Not that I am aware of," Whitney hesitated. "Possibly his intoxicated +condition made him desire the fresh air." + +"That is possible," admitted the coroner. "But witnesses testify that Mr. +Spencer had on no shoes." + +"Which confirms my statement of his condition," replied Whitney quietly. +"No man in his sober senses seeks the street in his stockings." + +The coroner, making no comment, held up the knife with the black bone +handle. "Have you ever seen this knife before?" + +Whitney turned a shade whiter. "I may have; there is nothing distinctive +about the knife." + +"Is it not used for modeling in clay?" + +"I believe so." + +"Who made the clay models in your studio, Mr. Whitney?" + +"I did." + +"Unassisted?" + +The question remained unanswered, and after a brief pause the +coroner pushed back his chair and rose. "That is all, thank you, Mr. +Whitney; kindly wait in the adjoining room to the left; you will +find a chair there." + +With a stiff bow Whitney stepped down from the platform and made his way +through the silent crowd to the room indicated. + +As the door closed behind him, Penfield called the deputy coroner to the +stand. Laying down his pen, Dr. North took his seat in the witness chair, +and after being sworn, turned to face the jurors, chart in hand. + +"You made the autopsy upon Mr. Sinclair Spencer?" questioned Penfield. + +"I did, Doctor, in the presence of the morgue master." + +"Please state to the jury the result of that autopsy." + +The deputy coroner glanced at the notes on the back of the chart, then +reversed it, holding it aloft so that all in the room could see the +anatomical drawing of a human figure. + +"The knife penetrated this section of the neck, just missing the carotid +artery," he began, using his pencil to indicate the spot marked on the +chart. "While the wound bled profusely it was superficial and did not +cause death." + +His words created a sensation. Men and women looked at each other, then +sat forward in their chairs, the better to view the deputy coroner and +his chart. + +"Were there indications of death from extreme alcoholism, then?" +questioned the coroner, and his voice sounded unusually loud in the deep +silence which prevailed. + +"No. Judging by the contents of the stomach Mr. Spencer had not taken +alcohol to excess." + +"Then if the knife wound was not fatal, and there was no indication of +intoxication, what caused Mr. Spencer's death?" demanded the coroner. + +"On examination," Dr. North weighed his words carefully, "I found a +powerful drug had evidently been used, producing instantaneous death by +paralyzing the respiratory center and arresting the heart action." + +All in the room were giving the deputy coroner rapt attention. Many had +come there purely from love of sensation, and they were not being +disappointed. The eyes of Charles Miller and Senator Foster met for a +second, then quickly shifted back to the deputy coroner. The reporters, +their pencils flying across the sheets, were the only ones in the room +who had not glanced at the witness. + +"Have you discovered the drug used?" questioned the coroner. + +"By tests I found it to be cyanide of potassium, a most deadly poison, +generally instantaneous in its action." + +"How large a dose was given?" + +"I don't know, as there were no indications of it in the gastric +contents." + +"Then how was the drug administered?" + +"Through the blood." + +"By means of the knife?" + +The deputy coroner looked puzzled. "Possibly," he admitted. "But I could +find no trace of the poison left on the knife blade. There was no mark +on the body to show how the poison was administered." + +"At what hour did death occur?" + +"Between three and four in the morning, judging by the condition of +the body." + +"Was there any indication, Doctor, of resistance on the part of the +deceased? Did he make an effort to defend himself." + +"No, Judging from his expression and the condition of the muscles I +should say that Mr. Spencer never knew what killed him, never knew even +that his life was threatened." + +"Were his hands opened or clenched?" + +"His right hand was clenched," acknowledged the deputy coroner. "Not, +however, for the purpose of defense, but to retain his grasp upon this--" +and drawing an envelope from his pocket he carefully shook into his open +palm a crushed and faded flower. "It is a cornflower," he explained. +"Sometimes called bachelor's button. The stem is broken short off." And +he held the flower so that all might view it. + +Senator Foster, who had followed the testimony with unflagging interest, +heard a sudden sharp intake of breath to his right, but glancing quickly +at Charles Miller he found his face expressionless. + +Penfield took the cornflower and envelope from the deputy coroner and +laid them carefully on his desk, while continuing his examination. No one +paid any attention to the lengthening shadows of the late afternoon, and +the coroner's next question was awaited with breathless interest. + +"Is cyanide of potassium used in photography?" he inquired. + +"It is." + +"That is all, Doctor, you are excused," and the deputy coroner returned +to his seat. + +The next witness was the morgue master, and his testimony simply +corroborated that of the deputy coroner. He was followed by William Banks +and John P. Wilson, respectively, both well known in the financial world +of Washington, who testified to Sinclair Spencer's standing in the +community, and stated that his financial condition precluded any +suggestion of suicide; and that to their knowledge he had no enemies. + +The lights were burning when the last named witness left the chair, but +there was no sign of weariness among the men and women in the room. +Although several consulted their watches, no one rose to go. Their +already deeply stirred interest was quickened into fever heat as, in +obedience to the coroner's summons, Kathleen Whitney took her place in +the witness chair. + +Dressed with the strict attention to detail and taste which made her one +of the conspicuous figures in the younger set, Kathleen's appearance and +beauty made instant impression upon juror and spectator alike. But her +chic veil failed to hide the pallor of her cheeks, and the unnatural +brilliancy of her eyes. Despite every effort at control, her voice shook +as she repeated the oath word for word and stated her full name and age. + +"Have you always resided in Washington?" asked the coroner. + +"Yes." + +"Were you educated in this city?" + +"Yes, except for a winter in Germany." + +"Did you take up a special study while in Germany, Miss Whitney?" + +"Yes, miniature painting--" + +"And modeling?" as she paused. + +"Oh, no, I never studied that abroad although I occasionally help my +father by modeling in clay." + +"When did you make your debut in Washington society?" + +"Last winter." + +"Did you then make Mr. Sinclair Spencer's acquaintance?" + +"No." She moved involuntarily at the mention of Spencer's name. "I +had known him previously. He was one of father's friends, and much +older than I." + +"Were you not reported engaged to him last fall?" + +Kathleen flushed at the question. "I never heard of it," she said coldly. +"I do not encourage gossip." + +"Miss Whitney." Coroner Penfield surreptitiously scanned a small note +handed him before the commencement of the inquest. The handwriting was +distinctly foreign. "Miss Whitney," repeated Penfield. "Did you not +refuse Mr. Spencer's offer of marriage on Tuesday morning?" + +For a moment Kathleen stared at him in speechless surprise. "Where did +you get that piece of information?" she demanded, recovering herself. + +"You have not answered my question, Miss Whitney," and the quiet +persistence of his manner impressed Kathleen. + +"Yes, I refused him," she admitted. + +"Did Mr. Spencer make any attempt to persuade you to reconsider +your refusal?" + +"Yes." Kathleen shot an impatient look at the coroner. "I cannot see what +my private affairs have to do with the regrettable death of Mr. +Spencer," she protested. + +Penfield ignored her remark. "Did Mr. Spencer communicate with you +Tuesday by letter or telephone?" he asked and waited, but the question +remained unanswered. To the disappointment of the reporters, he did not +repeat it, but asked instead: "Were you aware on Tuesday evening that Mr. +Spencer was spending the night at your house?" + +"No." + +"Did you see either your father or your mother that night before +retiring?" + +"No." + +"When did you last see Julie, your mother's maid?" + +"Before dinner when she came to my bedroom to help me change my dress." + +"Did she seem discontented with her situation?'" questioned the coroner. + +"No." + +"Did Julie ever evince dislike to Mr. Spencer?" + +Kathleen's hand crept to her throat and she plucked nervously at her +veil. "Julie was too respectful to discuss our family friends with +me," she said. + +"You have not answered my question, Miss Whitney," was Penfield's quick +retort, and Kathleen flushed under the rebuke. + +"Because I am aware that you are striving to make me incriminate Julie in +Mr. Spencer's death," she began heatedly. "Instead, you and the police +should make every effort to find Julie and protect her ..." + +"From what?" + +"I don't know," hopelessly. "Julie has no friends in this city, no one +whom she could turn to in trouble but me. I cannot understand her +disappearance; I fear, greatly fear, foul play." + +"Circumstantial evidence points to her having disappeared of her own +volition, Miss Whitney, to escape being charged with a heinous crime." + +"Pardon me, her disappearance is the only scrap of evidence which leads +you to think she might possibly have murdered a man whom she knew by +sight," retorted Kathleen. + +"Was it your habit to supply Julie with money?" questioned the coroner. + +"Yes, which she sent to France as her mite toward the war fund," answered +Kathleen heatedly. "I am confident Julie had nothing whatever to do with +the death of Mr. Spencer." + +"Can you tell us who did, Miss Whitney?" asked Penfield, and he saw the +terror which crept into her handsome eyes. + +"I cannot," she answered with unsteady lips. "I never awoke that night." + +"What took you downstairs at so early an hour yesterday morning?" + +"I had rung the upstairs bell for Julie, and as she did not come, I +started to go down and find her," she hesitated uncertainly. + +"Continue," directed Penfield. "Tell your story of finding Mr. Spencer's +body in your own way." + +It was some minutes before Kathleen obeyed his request. "I went to the +elevator and pushed the button," she began slowly. "I was in a hurry, and +when I heard the click which indicated the cage was there I opened the +outer mahogany door, pushed back the inner steel grille-work door, +stepped into the elevator and without looking about me, closed the doors, +and pushed the basement button. Then I turned about"--Kathleen moistened +her dry lips--"and saw--and saw--Mr. Spencer lying there--the blood"--she +closed her eyes as if to shut out the recollection--"I think for a time +I lost my reason. I have no intelligent recollection of anything that +occurred until I found myself in bed with a trained nurse in attendance." + +As her charming voice ceased, Charles Miller, who had never taken his +eyes from her face, gently moved his chair so that Foster's figure cast +him in shadow. Never once had Kathleen glanced his way; she sat for the +most part with her eyes downcast or looking directly at the coroner. +Kathleen was visibly moved by the recital of her experiences in the +elevator, and Penfield waited an instant before questioning her further. + +"Could you tell from what floor the elevator came when you pushed your +floor button?" he asked. + +"No," was the disappointing answer. "The elevator runs practically +noiselessly, and we have no floor indicator such as you see in stores." + +"Was the electric light turned on in the elevator when you entered it?" + +"No." + +"Then how could you see Mr. Spencer so clearly?" + +"The brick elevator shaft is lighted by a skylight," answered Kathleen. +"The electric light is only needed at night." + +"Do you recognize this knife?" and Penfield held it before her as he +spoke. Kathleen's eyes did not shift their gaze, but her teeth met +sharply on her lower lip. + +"I see that it resembles one that I have," she said. + +"You still have yours?" + +"Yes, you will find it in my desk drawer at home." + +"Had you only the one knife, Miss Whitney?" + +"I may have had others," indifferently. "I do not recall; I buy my +painting and modeling supplies as I need them." + +The coroner replaced the knife without further comment. + +"You use azurea perfume, do you not?" he asked. + +"Yes." + +"What was your object in trying to rub out a blood stain on the front of +Mr. Spencer's white shirt, Miss Whitney, while you were in the elevator?" +asked Penfield. + +Kathleen looked at him dully. "Wh-what d-did you say?" she stuttered. + +For answer Penfield took from the pile of clothing on the table a white +shirt and pointed to a discoloration on its glazed surface. + +"When I first saw this shirt on Mr. Spencer it reeked of perfume," he +said sternly. "Submitted to chemical tests, I find a blood stain was +partially removed by azurea. Again I ask, what was your object in +attempting to remove the blood stain?" + +But Penfield spoke to deaf ears. Kathleen had fainted. Excitement waxed +high in the room as Kathleen was carried out by Charles Miller, the first +to reach her side, and placed in the tender care of Mrs. Whitney and the +trained nurse. Waiting only to see her brought back to consciousness by +Dr. Hall, Miller slipped back into the inquest room. Detective Mitchell +was again in the witness chair. + +"You made a thorough examination of Miss Whitney's room?" inquired +the coroner. + +"Yes, Doctor." + +"And what did you find?" + +"This torn note"--and the detective held up the pieces in each hand. + +"Read its contents aloud," ordered Penfield. + +"The Connecticut, + +"Tuesday afternoon. + +"KATHLEEN, MY DARLING: + +"I implore you to reconsider--before it is too late. Consult +your father's best interests before you reject _me_. + +"Yours, with undying affection, + + "SINCLAIR." + +Mitchell paused after reading the signature, then continued. "Here is a +sample of Mr. Spencer's handwriting, attested by his cousin, Captain +Dunbar; the handwriting of the notes is identical, sir," and he placed +the papers in Penfield's hand. Reading them carefully, the coroner passed +them along to the jury for examination. + +"Where did you find this note?" he asked Mitchell. + +"Among Miss Whitney's painting materials in her sitting-room." + +"What is that in your lap?" and the coroner pointed to a paper box. In +answer Mitchell raised the cover and displayed a bouquet of faded +cornflowers. + +"I found it in Miss Whitney's sitting-room also," he stated. In tipping +the box, the better to show its contents, a small piece of white muslin +rolled to the floor. Quickly Penfield retrieved it. "I discovered that +handkerchief secreted in the folds of Miss Whitney's blue foulard gown," +added Mitchell, as the coroner spread open the handkerchief. It was badly +mussed and its white center bore dark stains. Penfield sniffed the faint +perfume still hanging about it; then without comment handed the +handkerchief to the foreman of the jury. + +"That is all, Mitchell," announced Penfield, and as the detective +departed, he turned and addressed the jury. His summing up of the case +was quick and to the point, and at the end the jurors silently filed into +another room. It was long after seven o'clock, but no one stirred in the +room, and the silence, which none cared to break, slowly grew oppressive. +The long wait was finally terminated by the reappearance of the jury. +Coroner Penfield rose and addressed them. + +"Gentlemen of the jury," he said, "have you reached a verdict?" + +"The jury find," answered the foreman, "that Kathleen Whitney is +responsible for the death of Sinclair Spencer by poison on the morning of +Wednesday, March 24, 1915, in her family residence in the city of +Washington." + +Quickly the crowded room emptied, reporters rushing madly for motors; not +often had the district morgue housed a _cause célèbre_, and its +sensational details had to be rushed on the wire. Charles Miller, +separated from Foster by the sudden crowding of the doorways, waited to +one side for him. + +"Americans are an emotional people," commented a quiet voice at his +elbow, and turning hastily Miller recognized Baron Frederic von Fincke. +"One death more or less does not create a furore elsewhere." + +"That depends on who dies," retorted Miller. + +"True. If it should be a member of the Imperial Family"--Von Fincke's +gesture was eloquent. "To them, all give way. We others are pawns." + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +A PROPOSAL + + +The atmosphere inside the house matched the leaden skies outside in point +of gloom, and even the wood fire, crackling on the hearth, failed to +mitigate the air of restraint and cheerlessness which prevailed in the +dining-room. The rain, falling in torrents, had brought with it a +penetrating cold wind, a last reminder of winter, and Vincent, passing +noiselessly to and from the pantry with sundry savory dishes, was +grateful for the heat thrown out by the blazing logs. + +Mrs. Whitney, whose eyes were red and inflamed from constant weeping, +gave up her attempt to eat her breakfast and pushed her plate away. + +"Let me give you some hot coffee, Winslow," she suggested. "Your cup must +be stone cold, and you haven't touched your fish balls." + +Absorbed in his newspaper, Whitney did not at first heed her request, but +the pulling back of the portieres aroused him, and glancing over his +shoulder, he saw Kathleen entering the room. + +"Good morning, Dad," laying her hand for a second on his shoulder before +taking the chair Vincent pulled out. "Just a cup of coffee, mother dear, +that is all," and Kathleen unfolded her napkin. + +"You told me upstairs you would remain in bed, Kathleen." Mrs. Whitney +looked solicitously at her. "Are you prudent to tax your strength after +all you were subjected to yesterday?" + +"I couldn't stay still a moment longer." Kathleen's slender, supple +fingers played with a piece of toast. "You need not bother to conceal the +newspapers, Dad," as Whitney surreptitiously tucked the _Herald_ and the +_Post_ behind his back. "I read them up in my room." + +"My dearest, I'm sorry you did that." Whitney leaned over and clasped her +hand tenderly. "I gave orders that...." + +"Vincent is not to blame," broke in Kathleen. "I borrowed the nurse's +newspapers before she left." + +"There was no sense in your reading all this jargon," protested Whitney +warmly. "And there is no need, Kathleen, of paying attention to one word +published here. Your friends believe in you absolutely, as we do." + +"Thank you, Dad." Kathleen returned the strong pressure of his hand, and +leaning over, kissed Mrs. Whitney. "Bless both your dear loyal hearts." +Her eyes brimmed with tears, and she dashed them impatiently away. "It +was better that I should see the papers," she continued a moment later, +"and know the world's unbiased opinion." + +"Unbiased opinion in a newspaper!" Whitney laughed mirthlessly. "That and +the millennium will arrive together. Have you everything you want, +Kathleen?" + +"Yes, Dad." + +"Then you need not wait, Vincent. Now, Minna, what did you ask me a few +minutes ago?" + +"If you will have some hot coffee. Yes? Then send me your cup," and Mrs. +Whitney, taking it from Kathleen, poured out the coffee and hot milk. As +she returned the cup and saucer, she glanced carefully about the room, +but Vincent had departed to the kitchen. Satisfied on that point, she +lowered her voice to a confidential pitch. "I hear the servants are +planning to leave." + +"Who cares?" Whitney shrugged his shoulders. "There are better where they +came from." + +"Quite true," agreed Mrs. Whitney. "Then, will you give me their +wages ..." + +"Wages?" Whitney flushed with anger. "No, if the dirty dogs wish to leave +us in the lurch without notice, they will not get one cent from me." + +"They won't leave us," declared Kathleen. "At least, I am sure that +Vincent and Rosa will not go. They have been with us too long." + +"I only know what Henry told me he heard in the kitchen this morning," +explained Mrs. Whitney. + +"Oh, Henry!" exclaimed Kathleen contemptuously. "I wouldn't put any faith +in what he says; he is forever making trouble in the kitchen. He is ..." + +The violent ringing of the telephone bell interrupted her. + +"I have finished my breakfast, I'll go," volunteered Mrs. Whitney, and +she hastened into the pantry where a branch telephone had been installed +for the use of the servants. Before the swing door closed tightly, they +heard her say: "Oh, Kiametia ..." + +"What is the reason the servants are so anxious to decamp?" asked +Whitney, handing Kathleen the dish of fruit, which she declined. + +"You forget this house has become a chamber of horrors." Kathleen's voice +shook, and she paused to take a hasty swallow of hot coffee. "Possibly +the presence of the detectives makes them nervous." + +"Well, a sudden leave-taking from here will probably center the +detectives' attention upon them more than if they stayed and did +their work." + +"That is highly probable. Tell me, Dad"--Kathleen regarded Whitney +intently--"how is it that I am not in jail? Did not the coroner's jury +convict me?" + +"Their verdict read that you were responsible for Spencer's death, and as +such you are under suspicion and will be held for the Grand Jury." + +"Oh!" Kathleen shuddered slightly. + +"I had no difficulty arranging bail," continued Whitney. "The officials +themselves realize--must realize," he interjected, with bitter +force--"there is little _real_ evidence against you. The coroner's +jury--the d----fools"--the words escaped between his clenched teeth--"to +place faith in circumstantial evidence!" Whitney's clenched fist +descended on the table with a force that made the goblets ring. "My dear, +why, why did you try to whitewash Julie?" + +"Because I knew she had nothing to do with Sinclair Spencer's death." + +"You knew nothing of the sort"--with subdued violence. "You are totally +wrong. That Julie ran away is confession of complicity in the crime." + +"I don't believe Julie ran away; I do not"--meeting her father's angry +eyes steadily. "I believe she was enticed away. I tell you, Dad, if this +mystery is ever to be cleared, you must find...." + +"Captain Miller," announced Vincent, drawing back the portières from the +doorway, and Miller, emerging from the hall, advanced into the room. + +Kathleen's coffee cup descended with a clatter on its saucer as her +nerveless fingers released their hold, and placing one hand on the back +of her chair to steady herself, she rose slowly to her feet. + +"Senator Foster would like to speak to you a minute, Mr. Whitney," added +Vincent. "He is waiting at the front door, sir." + +"Certainly." Whitney shook Miller's hand cordially. "Excuse me a second, +Captain, I'll be back in a jiffy," and he followed Vincent from the room. + +Impulsively Miller stepped toward Kathleen, hands extended and eyes +alight with passionate tenderness. "My love, my dear, dear love!" + +"Stop!" Kathleen spoke in a dangerously low tone. "I must request you to +leave this house at once." + +"Kathleen!" + +"You understand the English tongue?" Her cold repellent manner caused him +to pause in uncertainty. "Or shall I translate my request into German?" + +"I will not put you to that inconvenience," he retorted hotly; then his +manner changed. "Ah, Kathleen, do not let us waste the precious seconds +bickering. Tell me what I can do for you." + +"_You_ ask me that?" Her tone was impossible to translate. + +"Yes." Miller held her gaze, his handsome eyes speaking a language all +their own. "You gave me the right, my darling, to protect you--and I +_shall_ protect you." + +Her strength suddenly deserting her, Kathleen sank down in her chair. + +"You will protect me," she echoed. "_You?_" + +Her tone stung him to the quick. "Yes--I," he said slowly. "Do you not +realize the depth of my love? I would willingly sacrifice my career, my +life for you--and count it no sacrifice." + +"Would God I could believe you!" The cry was wrung from her, and she +raised her trembling hands to brush away the blinding tears. + +Miller dropped on one knee beside her. "My dearest, my heart's desire!" +he whispered passionately, taking her hands prisoner. At his touch she +shrank back, remembrance crowding upon her. + +"Go!" she stammered. "I have kept faith; go, before I say too much." + +Before Miller could answer he heard his name called, and the sound of +rapid footsteps. With a bound he was on his feet, and pausing only +long enough to whisper "Courage, Kathleen," he joined Winslow Whitney +in the hall. + +But Kathleen was hardly conscious of his departure. With an exceedingly +bitter moan, she dropped her head upon her arms and cried as if her heart +would break. Mrs. Whitney, entering from the pantry a second later, +paused aghast, then running to Kathleen, soothed her with loving word and +hand back to some semblance of composure. + +Miller found Winslow Whitney walking rapidly up and down the hall. He +stopped at sight of the latter. "Come in the library," he said. "I've +given instructions that we are not to be interrupted," closing the door +and also pulling to the folding doors behind the portières leading to +the dining-room. "Make yourself comfortable, Captain," producing a box +of cigars. "Don't mind if I walk up and down; I think better when +moving about." + +"Same here," but Miller selected the most comfortable chair in the room +and puffed slowly at his cigar, while never taking his eyes from his +host. Neither man spoke for fully five minutes, then Whitney pulled up a +chair and sat down near his companion. + +"Have you seen Senator Foster today?" he inquired. + +"Not to talk to; but I caught a glimpse of him coming here as I entered." +Miller knocked the gathering ash from the end of his cigar. "I was with +him at the inquest yesterday." + +"I saw you both there." Whitney selected a cigar and, lighting it, sat +back. "Did Foster happen to tell you that Sinclair Spencer had in his +will made him executor of his estate?" + +"No." + +"Well, he came here today to tell me that, and also that Kathleen is +mentioned in Spencer's will as residuary legatee." + +"What!" Miller's surprise was shown in his face, which had grown +suddenly white. + +"Spencer evidently really cared for Kathleen," went on Whitney, paying no +attention to his ejaculation. "A queer fellow, Spencer; I did not give +him credit for possessing sincere feeling, except where he himself was +concerned." + +"Was Spencer wealthy?" The question shot from Miller against his will. + +"Report says so; I never inquired, myself." Whitney puffed a cloud of +smoke, and as it cleared away, turned impulsively to Miller. "I'm damned +if I like Foster's manner to me today!" he burst out. + +"Why, what happened?" Miller bent eagerly forward. + +"I only asked him to postpone probating Spencer's will," began Whitney, +laying down his cigar. + +Miller's eyes opened. "Did he agree to it?" + +"No--refused curtly." Whitney's eyes flashed. "And the manner of his +refusal--rankles," he confessed. + +"Your request was somewhat singular," commented Miller slowly. + +"Nothing singular about it," retorted Whitney. "I was thinking of +Kathleen when I made the request. Man, do you not see," and the haggard +lines in his face deepened, "the instant that will is offered for probate +its contents become public. And its publication now will but strengthen +the suspicion already centered about Kathleen, by supplying a possible +motive for Spencer's murder." + +"Suspicion cannot injure the innocent," protested Miller. + +"Oh, can't it! That's all you know about it," growled Whitney, wiping +beads of moisture from his forehead. "So much for Foster's friendship +when put to the test. I made it plain to him that my request was prompted +by my desire to shield Kathleen from further publicity." + +"I understand, Mr. Whitney," said Miller gently. + +"Yes, I believe you do," went on Whitney feverishly. "That an old friend +should be the first to go back on me; there's the sting. We are a proud +family, Miller, united in our affections." He cleared his throat of a +slight huskiness. "I would have given everything I possess to have spared +Kathleen that scene at the inquest yesterday; I never for a moment +imagined"--He straightened up.--"I am going to move heaven and earth to +clear Kathleen from this vile suspicion that she is in some way +responsible for Sinclair Spencer's death." + +"I'm with you, Mr. Whitney," Miller's voice rang out clear and strong, +carrying conviction, and a flash of hope lighted Whitney's brooding eyes. +"I love your daughter, sir, and came this morning to ask your consent to +our marriage." + +Whitney looked at him long and intently, and Miller bore the scrutiny +without flinching, his direct gaze never shifting, and his strongly +molded features set with dogged determination. + +"You make this proposal, and at this time?" asked Whitney at last. + +"Yes." Miller's hand tightened its grip on the arm of his chair. +"Clouds can be dispelled, sir; and my faith in your daughter will never +be shaken." + +Without a word Whitney extended his hand, and Miller grasped it +eagerly. "You have my consent, Captain," he said, the huskiness of his +voice more pronounced. "I cannot, of course, answer for Kathleen; I +would not force her acceptance of any man." He turned to relight his +cigar, and Miller's swift change of expression escaped him. "Tell me, +Captain," continued Whitney, tossing away the match. "What conclusions +did you draw at the inquest?" + +"I think the jury acted on inconclusive evidence," said Miller +thoughtfully. "Before rendering any verdict they should have waited to +hear Julie's testimony." + +"You have hit the nail on the head," declared Whitney. "I firmly believe, +in spite of the other servants' testimony, that Julie and Sinclair +Spencer knew each other well, and his death is the result of a +clandestine love affair with her." + +"Love may have entered into it," acknowledged Miller. "But I think there +is also another motive behind Spencer's murder, the significance of which +we have not fully grasped." + +"And that is--?" + +Miller did not answer directly. "What motive inspired Spencer to feign +drunkenness," he asked, "and when everyone was asleep, to steal over this +house like a thief in the night?" + +Whitney drummed impatiently on the desk. "There is but one apparent +answer," he admitted reluctantly. "You believe that he was interested in +my inventions?" + +"I do; his actions certainly point to that conclusion." + +Whitney shook his head. "His behavior that night would have been just the +same if planning a clandestine meeting with Julie." + +"But, my dear sir, he could have met Julie elsewhere with far less danger +of discovery. Besides," Miller hesitated, "let us give the devil his due. +Spencer was evidently very much attached to Kathleen. With her image +before him, I do not believe he spared a thought for the French maid." + +Whitney looked his disbelief. "In this instance, I cannot speak well of +the dead," he said slowly. "I know too much of Spencer's past. He was not +above courting the maid and the mistress at the same time." + +"Well, at least Spencer was no fool; if he did court Julie, it was not +done in this house." Miller tossed his cigar stub into the ash receiver. +"It might be that he used the maid to assist him in securing information +about your inventions." + +"You may be right." Whitney started from his chair. "And Julie, perhaps +believing in his protestations of affection at first, awoke to his +duplicity, and took the occasion of his spying to kill him." + +"Yes, that's about my idea." + +"But--but--" Whitney turned bewildered eyes on his companion. "What +prompted Spencer to desire to steal my inventions?" + +"That we have still to learn. That he did try, I am as convinced as if I +had seen him." Miller picked up another cigar. "And, Mr. Whitney, permit +me to call attention to one very essential fact...." + +"Go on," urged Whitney. + +"That what Spencer failed to accomplish, others may." + +"Nonsense." + +"It is very far from nonsense." Miller's earnestness impressed Whitney. +"I do not for one moment believe that Spencer was working alone." + +"You hint at conspiracy?" Whitney frowned perplexedly. + +"Call it that if you wish; only, sir, take every precaution to safeguard +your inventions from prying eyes." + +"I have, already." + +"How, for instance?" + +"With double locks, iron shutters, and electric wires, my workshop is +hermetically sealed." + +"Until a clever thief gains entrance." Miller laughed faintly. "The +science of house-breaking keeps step with modern inventions to protect +property. What one man can conceive another man can fathom." + +"You may be right." Whitney took a short turn about the room, then +stopped in front of his companion. "What precautions would you suggest?" + +Miller did not answer immediately. "It is very likely that another +attempt will be made to secure the drawings and specifications of your +inventions, if not your models," he said finally. "And if on guard, you +may not only catch the thief but Spencer's murderer." + +"A good idea," acknowledged Whitney. "But how would you suggest going +about to catch the thief?" + +"By laying a plot for him; forget to lock your studio door +occasionally, lay prepared paper inconspicuously about, and powder your +tables and floor with fine dust. The thief will leave an indelible +trail behind him." + +"And walk off with all necessary data," answered Whitney skeptically. "As +clever a thief as you paint will never leave that room, once he is inside +it, without full knowledge of my inventions." + +"The thief will not have an opportunity of stealing what he came for, +because the specifications and drawings of your inventions will not +be there." + +"Eh!" Whitney's cigar fell unheeded to the floor. "Where will they be?" + +"In my possession." + +Too astounded to speak, Whitney stared at his companion. It was over a +minute before he recovered himself. + +"Do you think I will trust you with the drawings and models of my latest +inventions?" he asked. + +"You did not withhold your consent when, a short time ago, I asked for +Kathleen's hand in marriage," said Miller slowly. "Do you hold your +inventions dearer than your daughter's future happiness, which you are +willing to intrust to my care?" + +Never taking his eyes from his companion's face Whitney stepped back. The +seconds lengthened into minutes before he spoke. "Come upstairs," he said +and, turning, made for the closed door. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +THE YELLOW STREAK + + +Leaving the War Department, Detective Mitchell debated for a second +whether to walk around the back of the White House grounds to the +Municipal Building, or to go to Pennsylvania Avenue and take an east +bound electric car. But there was no sign of let-up in the pelting rain, +and pulling his coat collar up about his ears, he hastened toward the +avenue, and at sight of an approaching car broke into a run. The usually +empty sidewalks were filled with hurrying government employees, anxious +to get their luncheon and return in the prescribed half-hour to the +State, War, and Navy Departments, and the detective had some difficulty +in dodging the pedestrians. + +Seeing an opening among the lowered umbrellas, he stepped off the curb +and dashed for the street car. He was almost by its side when the +hoarse sound of a motor siren smote his ear, and glancing sideways, he +saw a touring car bearing down upon him at full speed. In trying to +spring backward his foot slipped on the wet asphalt and he sprawled +forward on his knees. The automobile was almost upon him when strong +hands jerked him safely to one side. Scrambling to his feet, Mitchell +turned to look at the man whose strength and quickness had saved him +from a nasty accident. + +"Much obliged, Captain Miller," he said. "I owe you a great deal." + +Miller stooped over and picked up the detective's hat. "Why don't you +chaps arrest such speeders?" he inquired, pointing to the vanishing car. + +"We do in most cases," returned Mitchell, brushing the mud from his +trousers, and limping back to the sidewalk. "However, the driver of that +car is exempt." + +"Why?" + +"We can't arrest a United States Senator." + +"Ah, then you got his number." Miller led the way to the sidewalk. + +"That car doesn't need a number to identify it," grumbled Mitchell. "Its +color and shape are too distinctive. We on the force call it the 'Yellow +Streak.' The car belongs to Senator Randall Foster; when he's at the +wheel, the Lord help the pedestrians!" + +"So it would seem," dryly. "Where are you going, Mitchell?" observing +the detective's rather shaken appearance. + +"To the Municipal Building." + +"Suppose you come and lunch with me first at the Occidental," and the +smile which accompanied the invitation was very persuasive. "It's near +where you are going." + +Mitchell had not lunched, and a hurried breakfast had been consumed +before six o'clock. It was his hunger which had occasioned his haste to +reach the Municipal Building and later a near-by café. His official +business was not very pressing, and since meeting Miller at the +Whitneys' two days before, he had heard of his attentions to Kathleen +Whitney. The rumor had interested him as much as Miller's personality. +Promptly he accepted Miller's invitation, and the two men boarded the +next downtown car. + +Within a short time they were both eating an appetizing lunch in the +attractive restaurant of the Occidental. Just before the arrival of +coffee and cheese, Mitchell sat back in his chair with a sigh of physical +content. The Martini had warmed his chilled body, and the lassitude which +comes after a hearty meal was stealing over him. Miller had proved an +agreeable companion, able to talk upon any subject--except one, in spite +of the detective's hints in its direction. Their table was in one corner +apart from the others, and there was no danger of their conversation +being overheard. Taking in their isolated position at a glance, the +detective changed his tactics. + +"I saw you at the Spencer inquest," he said abruptly, applying a match to +his cigar. "What do you think of the verdict?" + +"What every sane man thinks," answered Miller. "That the prosecution will +have to secure more material and tangible proof before it can secure an +indictment by the Grand Jury." + +"I'm not so certain of that," responded the detective, ruffled by +Miller's casual manner. "Our evidence against Miss Whitney was pretty +conclusive." + +"It would have been just as conclusive if applied to any other inhabitant +of the Whitney house that night." + +"Hardly." Mitchell smiled broadly. "I fear your friendship blinds you to +the danger in which Miss Whitney stands." + +Miller refrained from answering until their waiter had served the coffee +and cheese and departed. "Circumstantial evidence will not always +convict--fortunately," he said, helping himself to the Camembert. "What +have you proved...." + +"That Spencer was Miss Whitney's rejected lover," broke in Mitchell. +"That the knife belonged to her; that she tried to remove incriminating +blood stains on his shirt with her perfumed handkerchief; and that he +held in his hand a flower, possibly broken from the bouquet which she was +wearing at the time." + +"It sounds formidable," commented Miller quietly. "But there are a number +of flaws. You have _not_ absolutely proved that the knife belonged to +Miss Whitney, only proved that it is probable she might have owned it. +Wait"--as Miller started to interrupt. "The deputy coroner testified that +Spencer was killed by cyanide of potassium." + +"Which, as Spencer did not swallow it, was administered by aid of the +knife," retorted Mitchell hastily. + +"The deputy coroner said he found no trace of the poison on the knife +blade." Miller paused to refill Mitchell's coffee cup. "Secondly, +cyanide of potassium is not a drug which Miss Whitney would be apt to +have around." + +"I saw a half-filled bottle of it in Whitney's work-shop last Wednesday." + +"Quite true, I saw it there myself," admitted Miller. "I also saw that +Whitney kept his studio workshop under lock and key." + +"To outsiders; but it is just possible he is not so strict about the +members of his household, his testimony to the contrary," argued +Mitchell. "The point is not well taken, Captain, and even if it were," he +stirred his coffee thoughtfully, "Miss Whitney did not need to enter her +father's workshop to secure the cyanide of potassium; I find she buys all +his photographic supplies at a shop not far from here, and recently +purchased a new supply of cyanide." + +"Purely circumstantial evidence," responded Miller, keeping his +expression unaltered by an effort. The detective's last statement had +startled him. "In regard to the flower which Spencer held in his hand: +you say it was probably broken from the bouquet which she wore at the +time of committing the crime--I am, for the sake of argument only, +admitting that she might be guilty. The medical evidence went to prove +that Spencer was killed between three and four in the morning; it is +straining probabilities to claim that a young girl, in donning her +wrapper, pinned on a bouquet of flowers." + +"How do you know she was not fully dressed? It was not so late in the +morning; she could have gone to bed after the crime, or she may not have +gone to bed at all." + +"All supposition," scoffed Miller. + +"Not quite all." The detective, nettled by his jeering smile, spoke +hastily. "On further inquiry I learned from one of the servants +today that Miss Whitney had on the same dress Wednesday morning, +when her screams aroused the household, which she wore at dinner the +night before." + +"Ah, indeed?" Miller's smile had ceased to be skeptical, it was strained. +"And which servant imparted that information to you?" + +"Henry, the chauffeur." + +"For a chauffeur, Henry seems to know a great deal about what transpires +inside the Whitney house," observed Miller thoughtfully. "Tell me, +Mitchell, what motive do you attribute to Miss Whitney for the killing of +Sinclair Spencer?" + +Mitchell looked uncomfortable, and it was not until Miller repeated his +question that he spoke. "I believe Spencer persuaded Miss Whitney to meet +him clandestinely that night, and threatened to compromise her if she +refused again to marry him." + +"Oh, come!" Miller spoke more roughly than he realized. "Wake up, +Mitchell; you've been reading penny dreadfuls. Try and think up a motive +which will hold water." + +The detective flushed. "That is quite motive enough," he said. "If Miss +Whitney takes the stand in her own defense she can, on that motive, enter +a plea of killing to protect her honor...." + +"And any jury in the country would acquit her," broke in Miller. "She +would...." + +"Thus escape the gallows," finished the detective. + +"But I can suggest an even better solution of the problem," put in Miller +suavely, although his fingers itched to choke his companion. + +"And that is--?" + +"That the detective force find the guilty party." + +Mitchell suppressed a smile. "And where would you suggest that we hunt +for this guilty party?" he asked. "Provided he or she is still at large, +and not out on bail under indictment." + +"Search among the men and women who spent Wednesday night at the +Whitneys', servants as well as guests." + +"Captain," in his earnestness Mitchell leaned across the table, "it is +contrary to all records of crime that a man or woman will commit murder +without motive...." + +"You forget homicidal maniacs." + +"True, but they do not belong in this category," protested Mitchell. +"No person in that house, except Miss Whitney, had a motive for +killing Spencer." + +"Motives are not always on the surface; I advise you to investigate ..." + +"Yes--?" eagerly. + +"Is it true that arc lights have been installed at the United States +navy yards and arsenals, which make them as light as day on the +darkest night?" + +"I believe so." Mitchell glanced perplexedly at his companion. Why was he +changing the conversation? + +"And that visitors are not encouraged to loiter on government +reservations?" + +"I believe such an order has been issued," conceded the detective. + +"Also visitors are forbidden at the Government Radio Station at +Arlington?" + +"Yes." + +"And still there is a leak--government secrets are secrets no longer." + +"How do you know that, Captain?" and the detective shot a look full of +suspicion at him. + +"I only know what Senator Foster has told me," carelessly. "I believe +Foster's advice has been sought in the matter." + +"And why did he confide in you?" + +"He desired my help," responded Miller. "Seemed to think my opinion might +be worth something, but, honestly, Mitchell, I can't see anything to this +secret leak business--the Secret Service operatives are putting a scare +over on the government." + +"It's more than that, sir. No more coffee," and the detective, his sudden +doubts dispelled by Miller's sunny smile, leaned back once more in his +chair. "It seems that officials here are awakening to the realization +that government secrets are being betrayed. If the American troops are +ordered to a certain point on the border, the order is known in Mexico +before it is executed. It is the same with coded communications to +Foreign Powers. The movements of our fleet are known to foreign naval +attachés even before the maneuvers are carried out. The whereabouts of +the smallest torpedo boat and submarine is no secret--to any but the +American people." + +"Is that so?" Miller looked politely incredulous. "And is the Secret +Service not investigating the matter?" + +"Sure; they'll handle it all right." Mitchell twisted about in his chair. +"At present, Captain, my entire attention is claimed by the Spencer +murder. Where would you suggest that I begin my search among Whitney's +household for a motive which will explain the murder?" + +"Why not try and find Julie, the French maid?" + +The eagerness died out of Mitchell's face. "We are trying," he said. "But +we can convict Miss Whitney without her evidence." + +"So you think Julie's testimony will implicate Miss Whitney still further +in the crime?" + +"I do. I have no doubt she is accessory after the fact, and, provided +with funds by Miss Whitney, stole away so as not to give evidence +against her." + +"You have a curious conception of human nature, Mitchell," was Miller's +only comment as he signed to their waiter to bring his check. He did not +speak again until he and the detective were in the street. "You have +overlooked a very important point, Mitchell, in your investigation of +Spencer's murder." + +"What is that?" + +"You apparently believe that Miss Whitney murdered Spencer between three +and four in the morning and then went back to her bedroom ..." + +"Go on," urged Mitchell. + +"At the inquest all witnesses testified that Miss Whitney was the first +to find Spencer and that she was in the elevator with him." Miller spoke +with impressiveness. "Even the most hardened criminal would not have +deliberately walked into that elevator and shut himself in with the man +he had murdered a short time before--and yet, you argue that a highly +strung, delicately nurtured girl did exactly that. It's preposterous!" + +"It does sound cold-blooded," admitted the detective. "It is just +possible that after committing the crime, she lost consciousness and +remained in the elevator all night...." + +"Talk sense!" ejaculated Miller disgustedly and, without waiting to hear +the detective's thanks for his luncheon, turned on his heel and hurried +up Fourteenth Street. Mitchell watched his tall, erect figure out of +sight with absorbed attention. + +"I'd give a lot to know who he suspects murdered Spencer," he muttered +under his breath, and started for the Municipal Building. + +As Miller approached his hotel, he thought he saw Foster's yellow touring +car move away from the ladies' entrance. After procuring his mail he went +at once to his room. He was about to open his letters when his eyes fell +on an open drawer of his desk. Putting down the bundle in his hand, he +carefully investigated every pigeonhole and drawer. The papers he looked +for were missing. + +Rising quickly, Miller examined the windows of his room and bathroom. +They were securely fastened on the inside. In deep thought he went out +into the hall to where the floor chambermaid and a companion were sitting +in full view of his door. + +"Have you been here long?" he asked. + +"Yes, sir," replied the elder girl. "I've been on duty here ever +since noon, and Mary," laying her hand on her companion, "was here +all the morning." + +"Has either of you seen anyone enter my bedroom?" + +"No, sir, only yourself, sir," answered the first speaker, and Mary +echoed her words. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +THE AWAKENING + + +The prospect was uninviting at any time and to Julie, who had stared at +the rows of slatternly kept backyards until she grew familiar with each +battered garbage can, the sight was hateful. The rain had driven even the +starved alley cats to cover, and with a sigh forlorn in its wretchedness, +she turned from the window and contemplated her nicely furnished bedroom. +The two days she had been there had passed on leaden feet. Captain +Miller's money had secured her a haven of refuge--food and a roof over +her head--but had deprived her of liberty and the daily newspaper. The +first had been the only restriction he had placed upon her acceptance of +his bounty. His plea--protect Kathleen--had found a ready echo in her +loyal heart, and blindly she had obeyed him. + +The first day had passed in numb resignation, then had followed the +reaction. As she recovered from bodily fatigue there came a quickening of +the blood, and in spite of the cold driving rain, a longing for the +out-of-doors possessed her. + +Since the breaking out of the great world war, with its invasion of +Belgium and her beloved France, she had become an inveterate newspaper +reader, and during the days of "extras" she had formed the habit of +depending upon them. From day to day, month to month, she had followed +the ever shifting, always fighting forces on the firing line, and her +knowledge of the situation in Europe would have shamed some of the +students of the times. Her own personal loss and agonizing sorrow had +been engulfed in her acceptance of the world's tragedy, but it had made +adamantine her desire to serve France. + +Forty-eight hours had passed and she had not seen a daily paper. She had +asked her landlady, Mrs. Robinson, for the loan of her _Star_, only to be +told that Mrs. Robinson never took it. She had thereupon presented her +with three cents and asked her to secure the morning papers. But Mrs. +Robinson, on her return from market earlier in the day, had forgotten to +comply with her request. The one servant, when appealed to in the hall, +had promised to get her an evening _Times_, but on inquiry, Mrs. Robinson +had informed her that the woman had finished her work and gone home. + +What was happening in Europe? Had the Allies attempted the drive hinted +at during the winter months? Had Italy cast her lot with the Allies? +Julie's restlessness increased as each question remained unanswered. From +whom could she get a newspaper? Mrs. Robinson had assured her that she +was the only boarder in the house, and on the one occasion on which she +had left her room, she had seen no one but the servant. The latter had +gone out, and Mrs. Robinson had not responded to her call ten minutes +before. Julie sighed again and gazed wearily out over the backyards; then +a thought came to her. Why not go to a front window and hail a newsboy; +there might be one in the vicinity? + +With brightened eyes Julie left her room and, walking down the hall, +turned the knob of the door opposite her own. It would not open. +Bethinking herself, Julie rapped timidly on the door panel; then +receiving no reply, she rapped again. No voice nor footstep responded to +the summons; apparently the room was empty. Considerably perplexed, Julie +turned and made her way to the second bedroom floor. Quickly she rapped +at each closed door and tried its knob. Each door was locked and her +repeated raps went unanswered. In the fourth floor she met with the same +results, and, returning again to the stairs, she made her way down them +almost at a run. + +The silent and apparently empty house frightened her, and it was with a +fast beating heart that she made her way to the ground floor and into +the drawing-room. Its sumptuous furnishings astounded her. Mrs. Robinson +had neither the air nor the well-dressed appearance of a woman of +wealth. From her swarthy skin and black eyes and hair Julie had taken +her for a Creole. + +The stair door leading to the basement was not locked, and Julie laid a +hesitating hand on it. Should she seek Mrs. Robinson in the kitchen? +Almost without her own volition she released her hold on the knob and +retraced her steps to the front door. She needed air; the silent house +was getting on her nerves. She suddenly remembered the noises she had +heard in the night and which, in the morning, she had attributed to her +feverish condition. + +Noiselessly she removed the night latch and slipped into the vestibule. +She stood for a moment filling her lungs with the cold refreshing air, +then bethinking herself, stepped behind the closed section of the outer +door. She must not be seen by a chance policeman. As she stepped back her +foot encountered a small bundle, and she looked down. Joy of joys! It +was a folded newspaper. As she opened it she saw in the dim light of dusk +the red letter stamping: "Subscriber's copy." What had Mrs. Robinson +meant by telling her she did not take newspapers? + +Not pausing to worry further over that problem, she hastily scanned the +first page of the five-thirty edition of the _Times_; and her eyes +dilated as she read the scare headings: + +SPENCER'S WILL OFFERED FOR PROBATE + +KATHLEEN WHITNEY, CONVICTED BY CORONER'S JURY, IS RESIDUARY LEGATEE OF +MURDERED CLUBMAN + +SOCIETY GIRL OUT ON BAIL FURNISHED BY SENATOR FOSTER + +Too stunned to move or cry out, Julie stared dumbly at the newspaper. +Kathleen Whitney, her kind friend rather than employer, was +convicted--then her absence had not benefited her? Captain Miller's +advice had been wrong. Her faith in him was misplaced. To what had he +brought her? She cast a terrified look at the partly closed door behind +her. Better jail than--The thought of jail brought her whirling senses +back to Kathleen. But Kathleen was not in jail; the paper stated that she +was out on bail. If at home, she could be reached. + +Utterly regardless of her hatless condition, she dragged the shawl, +previously borrowed from Mrs. Robinson, over her head, and closing the +front door, bolted up the street, the newspaper still clutched in her +hand. Darkness was closing in, and the rain had driven the few +pedestrians usually in that location scurrying to their homes. Julie was +five or more blocks from the Robinson house when she saw a yellow touring +car draw up to the opposite curb and a man spring out. He paused for a +second to examine one of the lamps and its light threw his face in bold +relief against the darkness. It was Henry, the chauffeur. Julie shrank +back behind a tree-box, muffling her face in the friendly shawl. But the +precaution was unnecessary, for Henry did not glance toward her as he +hastened around the touring car and entered a near-by house. + +For some seconds Julie stood peering doubtfully in the direction he had +gone. Why was Henry driving a car other than the Whitneys'? Had they, by +chance, discharged him? Or was he up to some particular deviltry? Her +latent distrust of Henry and her suspicions as to his nationality surged +uppermost, and not waiting to count the cost, she darted across the +street and peered into the empty touring car. Opening the door, Julie +climbed into the tonneau and, seating herself on the floor, pulled the +heavy laprobe over her. Thus protected, she sat in the darkened interior +of the car for what seemed an interminable time. The slam of a door and +the sound of approaching footsteps caused her to half rise and peep +through the storm window. At sight of Henry standing by the bonnet +lighting his pipe she sank hastily back and secreted herself under the +laprobe. His pipe drawing to his satisfaction, Henry, with barely a +backward glance into the dark tonneau, stowed himself behind the steering +wheel and started the car up the street. + +Baron Frederic von Fincke looked from his bank book to his companion, a +pleasant-featured, gray-haired man. "The balance is low," he said. + +"I come with unlimited financial credit," and the short, stockily built +man drew from an inside pocket a leather cardcase and passed it to the +Baron, who read its contents carefully before returning it. + +"I am glad you have arrived, Hartzmann," he volunteered. "As a diplomatic +center Washington is dull. I call at the State Department--no news; it is +not in touch with secret history." + +"My dear Baron, what can you expect?" Hartzmann shrugged his shoulders +amusedly. "Trained diplomats do not confide state secrets to a premier +who derives his income from a newspaper and the lecture platform." + +"True. Diplomat and politician are synonymous in America; oil and water +would sooner mix in the Old World." Von Fincke carefully replaced his +bank book in a dispatch-box. "Your friend, Captain von Mueller, has won +many friends during his sojourn in Washington." + +"A brilliant man; he will go far." Hartzmann rubbed his hands with +satisfaction. "His work in England will not be forgotten. He has courage, +and the instinct of the hunter; he never blunders." + +"High praise," said von Fincke. "I am the more glad to hear it because I +have intrusted a most delicate mission to him--the securing of Whitney's +_latest_ invention"--with peculiar meaning. "My other efforts in that +line having proved failures." Quickly he forestalled the question he saw +coming, "And your plan of campaign, Hartzmann, what of it?" + +"First, let me give you this," taking several papers from his vest +pocket. "It is a list of factories throughout the United States supplying +munitions of war to the Allies. You may find it useful." + +"Thanks." Von Fincke read the paper with minute care before placing it +inside his dispatch-box. "A concerted movement has been commenced by us +to secure a majority control of many of these plants." + +"In several instances it is planned to buy the great gun and munition +factories outright," explained Hartzmann. "Our agents are already trying +to engage the output of munitions until 1916, so that even if the United +States requires powder and high explosives, it will be impossible to +supply the Government." + +"Anything, anything to stop the supply going to the Allies." Von Fincke +emphasized his words with a characteristic gesture. + +"Our work is already telling." Hartzmann carefully replaced several +papers in an inside pocket. "In Russia, the men of the first Russian +reserve have to wait before engaging the enemy until the Russian soldiers +in the outer trenches are _dead_ so as to get their guns and ammunition +to fight with." + +"Excellent!" and von Fincke beamed with pleasure. + +"I shall instigate strikes in the munitions factories," continued +Hartzmann. "Tell me, how have you succeeded with the passports?" + +Von Fincke's expression changed. "Not so well as I hoped. The Secret +Service are active in investigating all that are issued. It is difficult +to circulate them under such espionage." + +"It is risky," agreed Hartzmann. "Our agents have opened headquarters in +New York. We hope to destroy by means of fire bombs British ships +clearing from American ports." + +"If that is accomplished, it will lend material aid to our war zone +policy," exulted von Fincke. + +"And later on we hope to establish the American seaports as bases for a +fleet of naval auxiliaries, loaded with supplies for our swift submarines +and cruisers. I am making arrangements for taking care of the necessary +clearance papers." + +"Excellent!" ejaculated von Fincke for the second time, and opened a +notebook which he took from his dispatch-box. "Our reservists in this +country report regularly. Under the guise of rifle clubs they keep +themselves in excellent practice. Bodies of them are unobtrusively +seeking employment along the Canadian border." + +"Well done; it is a wise move." Hartzmann helped himself to a cigar. +"What about this Spencer mystery, Baron? As our agent in Mexican affairs +he received a small fortune. Does not his death come at a most +unfortunate moment?" + +Von Fincke pursed up his lips. "No. Spencer was a good tool, but +sometimes too inquisitive; however, I shall not be sorry if Miss Whitney +receives the full penalty for her crime." The two men regarded each other +in silence for a brief second, then von Fincke added: "From reports which +have reached me, I judge the mine is well laid, and Mexico will yet prove +troublesome to her northern neighbor." + +"And useful to us," mused Hartzmann. "The United States when angry with +Germany will make war--on Mexico." + +"Perhaps," skeptically, "but to me it appears intervention in Mexico will +hang fire until ..." + +"Engineered," Hartzmann smiled meaningly. "Huerta will leave shortly for +the Panama-Pacific Exposition, and then ..." Not completing his sentence, +he pointed to a paragraph near the bottom of the first page of the +_Times_ which lay spread on the table by him. "The Sisters in Unity, I +see, is a strictly neutral organization for peace at any price." + +"The dear ladies!" Mockingly von Fincke's hand rose in salute. "They are +the best propagandists in the country, and Senator Foster proves an able +advocate of peace--when urged by a woman." + +"He is a clever speaker," agreed Hartzmann. + +"Most men in public life have their uses. Have you nothing to report of +the pernicious activities of the United States Government?" + +Without replying von Fincke pressed the button of his electric bell. "Is +Heinrich here?" he asked a moment later as his servant entered. + +"Yes, Baron." + +"Then show him in." Von Fincke turned back to his guest. "A clever man, +Heinrich, and useful. Come in," as a discreet tap sounded on the door; +and the chauffeur, carefully closing the door, saluted. "Any news of the +Atlantic fleet, Heinrich?" + +"Its departure for the Panama-Pacific Exposition at San Francisco via the +Panama Canal has been indefinitely postponed." + +"The Department must have awakened to the fact that if sent there the +fleet would have to return by rail," growled von Fincke. "There is not +enough coal in California at present to supply the fleet--the battleships +and cruisers could not escape from attack, but might even be captured at +the dock." + +"Have you learned where the fleet will be sent?" asked Hartzmann, +watching the chauffeur narrowly. + +"It is to go to New York for a grand review, Herr Captain." + +"Ah, a mobilization?" + +"No, Herr Captain; I think not. The reserve fleet will be missing." + +"Will the President review the fleet?" + +"It is so believed, Herr Captain." + +Von Fincke, who had been silently eyeing his companions, stood up. +"Would that not give us an opportunity to bottle up the fleet in the +North River by slipping down one of our biggest ocean steamers and +sinking her in the channel?" + +"It might be done," but Hartzmann looked doubtful. "The Harbor Police of +New York are vigilant. I fear the warping of a great steamer from her +berth would attract instant attention." + +"Not if properly engineered, Hartzmann." A soft tap at the door +interrupted von Fincke. "Come in," he called. + +"Captain von Mueller," announced the valet, and von Fincke advanced +eagerly to meet the newcomer. + +"Welcome, Herr Captain. I hoped that you would get my note in time." + +"I found it on my return to the hotel. Hartzmann, well met." Von Mueller +returned the older man's firm clasp. "It is some years...." + +"Years? What are they when old friends foregather," exclaimed Hartzmann. +"Let us sit and talk." + +"Wait, wait," remonstrated von Fincke. "Heinrich," turning to the +chauffeur, who stood respectfully waiting, "did you learn the strength of +the fleet?" + +"Of the thirty-five United States battleships, only twenty-one are in +commission and ready for emergency," he said. "Of these twenty-one three +have broken shafts, and the fourth is a turbine engine battleship, which +needs overhauling." + +"Is this all the fighting strength of the United States navy?" questioned +Hartzmann, jotting down the figures in a notebook. + +"No, Herr Captain; there are seventy fighting craft; but not in +commission and all require overhauling. Half of the submarines will +not--er--'sub,' so to speak." A ghost of a smile crossed Heinrich's lips. +"The complement of torpedo vessels has been reduced from fifteen to +twenty-five per cent, and the Atlantic Fleet needs five thousand men." + +"Interesting data," said von Mueller. "I congratulate you, Heinrich. What +of the army?" + +"Nothing definite to report today, Herr Captain. If rumor speaks truly, +discontent will shortly reduce the standing army to a man and a mule." + +"A mule can fight on occasions," laughed von Mueller. + +"But not against trained men, backed up by field guns firing in one hour +two hundred thousand shells carrying high explosives," boasted Hartzmann +triumphantly. "Weapons such as these, von Mueller, alter the face of +nature as well as the fate of nations." + +"Any further news tonight, Heinrich?" asked von Fincke. + +"No, Baron." The chauffeur saluted. "Any orders?" + +"A moment," broke in von Mueller. "I will be at the Whitney residence +tonight, Heinrich; see that I am admitted," he added, observing the +slight change in the chauffeur's expression. + +"It can be arranged, Herr Captain," hastily. "I was but thinking of +Julie--the French she-devil. Should she come ..." + +"She will not return." Von Mueller spoke with confidence. "I have +convinced her that she will better protect Miss Whitney by remaining in +hiding, thus directing attention to herself as the criminal." + +"But will she not read the papers?" touching the _Times_. + +"No; the landlady will keep them from her." + +"The police are ransacking the town for her," persisted Heinrich. + +"They will not find Julie"--von Mueller lowered his voice. "They never +investigate Robinson's." + +"So!" Von Fincke elevated his eyebrows, and his smile was not pleasant. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +THE FINGER PRINT + + +Kathleen Whitney breathed inward thanks when dinner was over. It had been +a trying ordeal on top of an agonizing day. Cloistered in her room with +only her sad thoughts for company, she had been relieved to find that +Miss Kiametia Grey had been prevailed upon by Mrs. Whitney to prolong her +afternoon visit to include a family dinner. But the spinster's endeavor +to divert her by relating society gossip finally palled, and she +permitted her thoughts to stray to other scenes. + +"Did you receive your invitation to the Morton reception, Kathleen?" +asked Miss Kiametia, breaking off her conversation with Mrs. Whitney with +her customary abruptness, and startling Kathleen back to the present. + +"Yes--no; I don't know," was her confused reply. + +"It is here." Mrs. Whitney went into the library and returned with a +large envelope. + +"What night?" Miss Kiametia took the card and examined its heavily +embossed surface with interest. "_Nouveau riche_ stamped all over it, as +well as R.S.V.P.--'Real Slick Vittles, People,'" and she laughed +disdainfully. + +"All the trimmings." Mrs. Whitney replaced the card in its envelope. "I +have written our regrets. I understand the reception is given to announce +the engagement of Mona Morton to some South American Monte Cristo." + +"Speaking of engagements," Whitney turned to the spinster, "what about +you and Randall Foster, Kiametia?" + +"I shall never marry." Miss Kiametia's half bantering tone dropped, and +the eyes she turned to Kathleen were shadowed with a haunting regret. +"The habits of a life-time cannot be broken." + +"Oh, Kiametia!" exclaimed Mrs. Whitney in open disappointment. "Senator +Foster is splendid--and I had hoped--_why_ do you discourage his +attentions?" + +"Can't stand the way he wears his hair," announced Miss Kiametia with an +air of finality which warned against further discussion. + +"Marry him and make him change his barber," advised Whitney rising. "I +have to go out, Minna; you and Kathleen must not wait up for me. Good +night, Kiametia; Henry is downstairs, he can take you home in the car, +if you wish. See you tomorrow," and he moved toward the door. After a +brief hesitation Kathleen followed him into the hall. + +"Must you go out, Dad?" she asked helping him with his overcoat. "It is +still stormy tonight, and I feel lonely"--her voice broke, and turning +Whitney impulsively took her in his arms. + +"My darling little girl." He stopped and steadied his voice as he kissed +her tenderly. "There, don't worry, trust old Dad to put things +straight--as he did your broken dollies. Go early to bed, dear, and get +some rest." + +"Rest!" Kathleen strove to suppress all trace of bitterness. "Now, don't +have me on your mind; come home early," and she returned his kiss and +went slowly back into the drawing-room, as the front door closed after +her father. + +"We are going up to my boudoir, Kathleen; won't you come, dear?" asked +Mrs. Whitney. + +"Not just now, mother; I want to talk to Vincent when he gets the table +cleared away." + +"I envy you, Vincent," chimed in Miss Kiametia. "Such an excellent +servant. Oh, Minna, don't go to the elevator; suppose we walk upstairs." + +Left by herself Kathleen went in search of Vincent. He was not in the +pantry, but judging by the still unwashed dishes that he was probably +eating his supper in the kitchen, she refrained from calling him +upstairs, and walked listlessly back into the drawing-room. + +Sick at heart, utterly discouraged, she threw herself down on the large +sofa and sank back among the pillows. Throughout the long day she had +tried to banish all thought of Charles Miller. It was hopeless; his image +was in her heart as well as before her mental vision. To some women it is +given to love lightly, tasting but the essence, while to others love is a +lifetime of steadfast devotion. And that winter had brought to Kathleen +her one great passion; for weal or for woe she had given her heart to +Charles Miller, and she must drain the cup to the bitter dregs. + +With the gradual awakening to the belief that Charles Miller was really a +blackguard, a--she shuddered, and raised her hands as if to ward off an +overwhelming horror. And he had dared to approach her that morning with +loving words on his lips. His eyes had met hers frankly--there had been +no effort to avoid, no show of fear--no, he was only facing a loyal +woman. Kathleen choked back a moan. Truly, he understood the art of +dissimulation. If she had not known of his duplicity, of his guilt, his +expression as he addressed her that morning would have proclaimed him +innocent of all wrongdoing. His expression, ah, it had been that which +had sowed a little seed of hope in her heart. Perhaps she could sketch +his face as he appeared that morning, again catch the expression that +inspired confidence in spite of all. + +She sat bolt upright and glanced eagerly about for a scrap of paper and a +pencil. The white back of a magazine on a lamp table caught her eye and +she went toward it. By the lamp lay Miss Kiametia's gold mesh purse, +vanity box, and pencil. Kathleen snatched up the dangling baubles and the +magazine and returned to the sofa. If only she could get her impression +down on paper before remembrance faded! She could copy it at her leisure. +She jerked feverishly at the gold pencil, and as she pulled it out laid +its point on the white paper--and then sat petrified. It was a hypodermic +needle. Some seconds passed before she moved; then she raised the gold +cylinder--outwardly it resembled a pencil, inside were concealed the +syringe and needle. With anxious haste she manipulated its delicate +mechanism, and slipped back the needle to its hiding place. + +Forgotten for the moment was her own problem. Brilliant, gifted Kiametia +Grey a drug fiend--Oh, the pity of it! In the light of her discovery +Kathleen remembered many idiosyncrasies which the drug habit would +explain; often that winter she had found Miss Kiametia dozing in her +chair at the theater, at dinners, in motors, but had put it down to +over-fatigue from too much social gayety. Miss Kiametia's variable likes +and dislikes, her sudden whims and fancies, her irritability--all were +traceable to the same cause. + +The sound of her name caused Kathleen to raise her head with a start. +Henry, the chauffeur, was standing just inside the hall door. + +"Beg pardon, Miss Kathleen," he said. "Mrs. Whitney wished me to tell you +that Miss Grey will spend the night here and has retired to her bedroom. +And I was to ask you if you had any orders for the motor tomorrow." + +"No, none, thanks. As you go downstairs, tell Vincent that I wish +to see him." + +"Vincent has gone, Miss Kathleen." Meeting her quick glance, he added, +"It is his evening out." + +"Oh! Please ask Rosa to stop in my room before she goes to bed." + +"Very good, Miss Kathleen." As he turned to leave, the loud buzz of the +front doorbell sounded. Not waiting to hear the directions Kathleen +called after him, Henry darted into the hall. + +Picking up Miss Kiametia's gold purse and the hypodermic needle, Kathleen +replaced them on the table, but halfway to the hall door she hesitated. +Should she not take them to Miss Kiametia? Suppose Henry, for instance, +should take it into his head to examine them? At the thought Kathleen's +face hardened, and she returned to pick up Miss Kiametia's property. +Henry's voice from the doorway arrested her. + +"Captain Miller," he announced, and retired. + +Kathleen stood as if carved from stone, every vestige of color +stricken from her. If her life had depended upon it, she could not +have turned around. + +"Have you no word for me?" asked the familiar voice, and Miller stepped +in front of her, his wistful eyes pleading for him. But Kathleen was +mute. Slowly, unwillingly his eyes dropped before her level gaze and +rested finally on the gold baubles in her hand. "Why do you not wear my +ring, Kathleen?" + +The question stung her out of the bewildered trance into which his +unexpected appearance had thrown her. + +"The ring was returned to you for good and sufficient reasons," she said +icily. "That you choose to ignore these reasons does not affect the +issue. Will you leave this house, or shall I ring for the servant?" + +"Kathleen, are you mad?" He whitened to the lips. "Think what you are to +me, dearly beloved; your words cut me like a knife." + +"Your similes are unfortunate," she stammered, with dry lips. "I do not +use knives. I leave that for others, the coroner's jury to the contrary." + +"Do you think the coroner's jury influenced my judgment, sweetheart? +Shame--I have more faith than you. I know that you are innocent of +Spencer's death." + +"You have every reason to know that I am innocent." Kathleen was +thoroughly roused. "It is not a question of faith on your part," +significantly. "I see no use in these discussions. It is better that we +do not meet. Again I ask you to go--forever." + +Without replying he turned and paced the room rapidly, hands in pocket, +head bent forward. Kathleen watched him with burning eyes and aching +heart. To outward seeming he had the attributes which make for success. +What mad blood-lust had made him throw the world away? + +"Suppose I accede to your unreasonable request, Kathleen," he said, +stopping before her. "Will you do something for me?" + +"Yes," huskily. + +"Then get from your father the specifications and drawings of his latest +invention for me." + +As if she had not heard aright, Kathleen stared at him. + +"Wh-what is it you ask?" she stammered. + +"The plans of your father's _latest_ invention," patiently. "I do not +mean the camera." + +"Either you or I are mad," she looked at him dazedly. "Do you realize +that my father would not give me those plans--that I should have to +steal them." + +"Expediency knows no law," he muttered, not meeting her eyes. "Call it +borrowing." Kathleen shrank back appalled. + +"Good God! That you should be so base!" she cried. "For more than +forty-eight hours I have closed my eyes to reason; deluded myself that +you acted from temporary mental aberration--that Sinclair Spencer's death +was unpremeditated. My impulse was to help--to save. Ah, you wooed me +well this winter." Her voice broke and she drew a long quivering breath. +"It is a pitiful thing to kill a woman's love. Some day, perhaps, I shall +be grateful to you. Go!" + +He flinched at the scorn in her voice, but stood his ground +doggedly. "Not until I get the drawings and specifications of the +invention," he answered. + +The slamming of the front door caused Kathleen to look in that +direction, and Henry's entrance the next instant stayed the words on her +parted lips. + +"A special delivery for you, Miss Kathleen," he said, "from the State +Department." + +Kathleen took the proffered envelope mechanically. + +"Wait, Henry," steadying her voice. "When Captain Miller calls again, he +is not to be admitted, under any pretense." + +"Very good, Miss Kathleen," and concealing his curiosity, the chauffeur +moved swiftly away. + +There was a pause which Miller broke. "Read your letter," he said +composedly. "I can wait." + +Kathleen was on the point of collapse; desperately she clung to her +remnant of composure. Hardly conscious of her action, she tore open the +outer envelope, and read the brief statement that the letter inclosed had +been sent to her, care of the Department of State. With some stirring of +curiosity not unmixed with dread, she examined the contents of the second +envelope. It read: + +"United Service Club, + +"London, England. + +"MY DEAR MISS WHITNEY: + +"I send the inclosed, forwarded to me by Major Seymour, who was until +recently a prisoner in Germany. My nephew, John Hargraves, was killed in +action. + +"Very truly yours, + +"Percival Hargraves." + +John dead! Her loyal friend dead--and killed in action! Through a blur of +tears Kathleen read the stained scrap of paper inclosed in the +Englishman's note: + +"DEAR KATHLEEN: + +"I saw Karl in London at Victoria Station. I swear it was he--warn +Uncle--Kathleen ... Kathleen...." + +Shaken with grief Kathleen raised her head and looked at her companion +sitting immovable in his chair. If he felt any interest in the letter +and her emotion, he did not evince it. Three years before, he, she, and +John Hargraves had been friends in Germany. John, the soul of honor, +loyal and unselfish in his friendship, had laid down his young life for +his country. His last dying word had been of her--to warn her.... +Kathleen stood erect, wrath drying the tears which affection had +brought. John had seen Karl in London in war times; there was but one +answer to the puzzle. + +"Captain Karl von Mueller," she said cuttingly, "to use the name by which +I knew you abroad, do you wish my father's invention for Germany?" + +"I do." Rising quietly, he faced her, stern and unyielding. "Why +dissemble any longer? Your father promised to sell it to us; then went +back on his given word. In handing me the invention you will but redeem +his pledge." + +"You have a strange conception of honor." Her eyes were blazing with +fury. "Your statement about my father is open to doubt. Captain von +Mueller, I give you forty-eight hours to leave this country before I +denounce you as a German spy." + +"Really?" His slow smile of unbelief caused her to writhe inwardly. "Do +you think the unsupported statement of a woman suspected of murder will +find credence?" Kathleen clenched John Hargraves' letter until her +knuckles shone white under the taut skin. "Secondly," he continued in the +same quiet tone, "you speak tonight only of this winter. Have you +forgotten our relationship in Germany?" + +"That is hardly the term for it," she said proudly. "I met you at the +house of a German schoolmate ..." + +"And our friendship rapidly ripened into love," he said softly, never +removing his gaze from her bloodless face. "Our walks in the meadows +about Berlin, our elopement ..." + +"But not our marriage," she burst in. "John Hargraves can testify that I +left you." + +"John Hargraves is dead." + +"True," she could hardly articulate. "But we were not married." + +"Quite so; that is my point--_I_ did not _marry_ you." + +Kathleen swayed upon her feet and threw out her hand blindly for support. +"You cur! you despicable cur!" she gasped. "Don't touch me." But though +she shrank from him, his strong hand steadied her toward the hall door. + +"Washington society is surfeited with scandal," he said. "When more +composed think of your father's latest invention." + +If she heard him she gave no sign. Mental torture had exhausted her +emotion. She never raised her head as he guided her to the staircase; her +eyes stared only at his open right hand. + +The house was dark except for the hall light burning dimly, when Winslow +Whitney inserted his latchkey and entered the front door. Removing hat +and overcoat, he made his way noiselessly to his studio in the attic. +With cautious movement he fingered the locks on his door. Would Miller's +plan for catching Spencer's murderer work out? According to their +arrangement he had left the door insecurely fastened. + +Just as he was about to creep into the room, he heard distinctly in the +stillness a whispered word in a voice his keen ear instantly recognized. +All idea of caution forgotten, he threw open the door and switched on the +electric light. To outward appearances the room was empty. + +Darting over to where he kept his secret papers, he lifted a powerful +Mazda lamp, the better to scan the prepared paper left where an +incautious thief would be obliged to rest his hand with some degree of +force. Under the powerful light the finger prints stood out distinct and +clear. But with eyes starting from his head, Whitney paused to snatch up +a magnifying glass, and by its aid examined the finger prints minutely. + +"It's--his--finger print--but the voice, my God! the voice.... Kathleen, +Kathleen!" A gurgle choked his utterance, and the magnifying glass +clattered beside him as he fell inertly on the floor. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +"TRENTON HURRY" + + +Charles Miller, completing a hurried toilet, paused at the sound of a +sharp rap on his bedroom door. + +"Come in," he called. "Ah, Henry, good morning," as the chauffeur stepped +briskly over the threshold. The latter's white face and agitated manner +indicated that he was the bearer of portentous news. Miller made a hasty +step in his direction. + +"Kathleen--is she ill?" he asked. + +The chauffeur looked to see that the bedroom door was securely fastened +before he answered. + +"It isn't Miss Kathleen," he answered cautiously. "Mr. Whitney has had +a stroke." + +"What?" Miller recoiled. "When?" + +"Some time last night." + +"Will he recover?" + +"Dr. McLane says that he cannot tell yet, Herr Captain. He was alive but +still unconscious when I left the house to come here." + +"What"--Miller looked anxiously at the chauffeur--"what brought on the +stroke? Mr. Whitney appeared to be in robust health when I saw him last." + +"The Doctor seemed to think it was caused by sudden shock, Herr Captain." +Henry stepped closer. "Miss Kiametia Grey found Mr. Whitney in his studio +lying on the floor unconscious." + +"Miss Grey found him!" Miller's eyes opened wide in astonishment. + +"Yes, Herr Captain; at four o'clock in the morning," with significant +emphasis, and the two men looked at each other. + +"And what was Miss Grey doing in the attic at that hour of the morning?" + +"She said she had gone upstairs to see Rosa, the cook, who was suffering +from a bilious attack early in the evening." + +"But," perplexedly, "if I remember correctly, Rosa testified at the +inquest that the servants' bedrooms are not in the attic but on the +floor beneath." + +"They are, Herr Captain. On answering the bell from Mr. Whitney's studio +I found Miss Grey there trying to revive him." + +"You answered the bell at four in the morning?" in surprise. "I +understood you did not sleep at the Whitneys'." + +"Nor do I, Herr Captain; but last night I took Vincent's place and +occupied his bedroom. When I reached the studio, I at first thought Mr. +Whitney dead," continued the chauffeur, after a slight pause, "and rushed +to summon a physician. On his arrival I assisted him to carry Mr. Whitney +to his bedroom." + +"Did you see Miss Kathleen?" + +"Not after giving her the special delivery letter"--Henry's sidelong +glance escaped Miller's attention--"when you were with her in the +drawing-room; but I did hear her talking to Mrs. Whitney and the nurse in +her father's bedroom just before I left the house to come here." + +"Keep me informed of what transpires at the Whitneys'," directed Miller, +picking up his coat. + +"Very well, Herr Captain. Permit me to help you." The chauffeur stepped +closer to his side and while assisting him, whispered: "Did you get the +invention?" + +Miller thrust his right arm into the coat sleeve with slow precision, and +his left arm into its sleeve with equal care before answering. + +"Yes." + +"God be praised!" Henry stepped back, his eyes snapping with delight. +"Ah, we will win it yet, that Cross!" he exulted; then cautiously took +from an inside pocket a folded sheet of letter paper and with care +removed from between the pages a piece of paper. "When Miss Grey was +occupied in her effort to revive Mr. Whitney I looked quickly about the +studio," he explained. "This paper caught my eye--and I bring it to you, +Herr Captain." + +"Thanks," laconically, laying the paper down on the desk. "One moment +before you go," and from a well-filled wallet he extracted a treasury +bill whose denomination caused Henry's eyes to beam with pleasure. + +"At service, Herr Captain," he said, saluting. "I will return and +report later." + +"Very well, Henry," and the chauffeur bowed himself out, but on the other +side of the door he hesitated, fingering Miller's tip with satisfaction. + +"He is liberal, that von Mueller," he muttered. "But it is just as well +not to tell him that there were two sheets of finger prints," and he went +whistling down the corridor. + +Tiptoeing to his door, Miller listened for a second, then, convinced that +the chauffeur had moved away, he turned the key in the lock. Going to his +desk, he picked up the sheet of finger prints and studied them long and +attentively; then glanced down at his right hand. Horror lurked in the +depths of his frank eyes. + +"The mark of Cain," he stammered, and opening the silver frame containing +Kathleen Whitney's photograph, he deftly slipped the paper between the +two pieces of cardboard. + + * * * * * + +It was getting toward dusk when Mrs. Whitney stole softly into Kathleen's +bedroom and stood looking down at her as she lay, eyes closed, white face +pillowed on one shapely arm, her breath hardly stirring the laces on her +gown. Convinced that she was asleep, she moved cautiously away, hoping +not to disturb her, but at that moment Kathleen opened her eyes and +raised herself on her elbow. + +"Don't go, dear," she begged. "How is Dad?" + +"Just about the same." Mrs. Whitney carried a chair to the bedside. "It +is too bad to have roused you." + +"I wasn't asleep--only thinking"--drearily--"I am glad you came in. Does +Dr. McLane hold out any hope?" + +"Yes," and Mrs. Whitney's care-worn face brightened. "Is it not +good news?" + +"The very best," Kathleen smiled through her tears. "You must be worn +out," and she stroked the hand on the bed with loving fingers. "You +should take some rest." + +"I am not tired," protested Mrs. Whitney. "The nurse has just come in +from her afternoon constitutional, and I felt that I could leave Winslow +for a little time. Tell me, dear," sinking her voice. "Can you let me +have a hundred dollars?" + +"I would gladly, mother, but I don't believe I have half that amount +left. You are welcome to that, though; my purse is in my desk." + +"Thank you, dear, I'll get it later," but the troubled shadow did not +lift from Mrs. Whitney's pretty face. "Both Vincent and Henry have asked +me for their wages; I have given Henry part ..." + +"Give him the whole, only get rid of him," burst out Kathleen. "I cannot +bear the man." + +"Why, Kathleen! Has he been disrespectful?" + +"N-no, only--I don't trust him." + +"Please, dear, don't excite yourself." Mrs. Whitney noticed with alarm +the hectic flush that dyed Kathleen's white cheeks. "I will fill his +place. Come to think of it, I did not like his manner this morning when +he asked for his wages, and he went out without leave ..." + +"He selected a curious time to make his request, with Dad so ill." + +"Well, you see, my dear," coloring faintly. "I gathered your father has +not paid him recently." + +"Don't believe that story until you have asked Dad." Kathleen choked back +a sob, remembering that her father, her dear father, might never answer +another question, no matter how trivial. "Don't look so worried, mother; +Dad will get better shortly." + +"I pray so." Mrs. Whitney's eyelashes were wet with tears. "Kathleen, did +your father ever speak to you of a note for twenty thousand dollars?" + +"No, never." + +"It comes due next week." Mrs. Whitney looked hopelessly about the room. + +"Surely the bank will hold over the matter until Dad is in a condition to +attend to his affairs?" + +"I sent word to that effect when answering the note teller's letter." + +"Who is the holder of the note?" + +"Sinclair Spencer." With ashy face Kathleen dropped back on her pillow as +if shot. Failing to observe her expression in the semi-dark room, Mrs. +Whitney continued wearily: "In your father's mail today I found a notice +from his bank stating that he had overdrawn his account heavily. It just +happens that my housekeeping allowance is almost exhausted, or I would +never have mentioned the matter to you, Kathleen." + +"I am glad you did, mother; you must not have this responsibility on your +shoulders, in addition to your anxiety for Dad. I have a little money in +the bank, and will turn it over to you tomorrow." + +"Thank you, dear," stooping and kissing her. "My heart is wrung for you, +Kathleen. It is shameful what you have had to go through!" and her eyes +flashed with indignation. + +"Hush!" placing her hand over Mrs. Whitney's mouth. "My affairs sink into +insignificance alongside of Dad's illness." + +"You are such a blessing, Kathleen," squeezing her hand fondly. + +"Then let us forget there is such a thing as money difficulties, and +turn to...." + +"Me!" exclaimed a voice by the door, and Miss Kiametia Grey advanced +further into the room. "I rapped several times but you did not hear...." + +"Do come and sit with us," suggested Kathleen. + +"I will, if you will turn on the light; I can't bear to talk in the dark. +There, that's better," as Kathleen switched on the reading lamp by her +bed. "Before anything further is said," began the spinster, reddening, "I +must confess that I overheard Kathleen mention money difficulties--I +didn't mean to hear it"--hastily--"but I just want to say that I'll be +your banker until Winslow gets better." + +"You dear!" Kathleen sat up and kissed her warmly and Mrs. Whitney, quite +overcome, embraced her with tears in her eyes. + +"What's a friend for if she can't be of use!" Miss Kiametia's manner was +always most brusque when seeking to cover emotion. "Land sakes! I forgot +to tell you that Randall Foster wishes to see you both." + +"Now!" Kathleen looked down at her negligée attire. "Can't he wait until +tomorrow? Dr. McLane said I could get up then." + +"He is very anxious to interview you this evening, Kathleen. Put on this +pretty dressing-gown," and Miss Kiametia picked it up from the couch. +"You help her into it, Minna, while I go and get Randall," and not +waiting for a reply she whisked out of the room, returning a few minutes +later with Senator Foster. + +"I am here under the doctor's order," explained Kathleen, taking his +proffered hand, after he had greeted Mrs. Whitney. "Won't you sit down?" + +"Thank you," muttered Foster, recovering with an effort from the shock +her appearance occasioned him. She looked wretchedly ill, and the hand he +held for a second in his was hot with fever. "I can stay but a minute, +Miss Kathleen. Do you think that tomorrow you can sign some papers in +reference to Sinclair Spencer's will?" + +"Why should I sign any such papers?" in quick surprise. "What have I to +do with his will?" + +"Hasn't your mother told you?" Mrs. Whitney shook her head, and answered +for Kathleen. + +"Winslow said not to mention the matter to Kathleen yesterday, and today +his illness put everything out of my mind," she explained. + +Kathleen looked from one to the other. "What have I to do with his will?" +she repeated. + +"Sinclair Spencer made you residuary legatee." + +"What!" Kathleen sat up, for the moment bereft of further speech. "I +shan't take any legacy left me by him," she announced, passionately. +"Mother, you hear me, _I won't_." + +"Yes, yes, dear," soothingly, and Senator Foster broke in hastily: + +"We understand how you must feel." + +"Feel!" echoed Kathleen. "Did you for one moment suppose I would accept a +penny from Sinclair Spencer or his estate?" and the scorn in her eyes +hurt Foster as she looked at him. + +"The law requires certain formalities," he said hurriedly. "As executor, +I shall have to talk over his will with you, but later will do." + +"Both now and later, I flatly refuse to consider any such bequest he may +have made me," went on Kathleen, unheeding his words as her excitement +increased, and Miss Kiametia hastened to avert the threatened scene. + +"Where were you yesterday afternoon, Randall?" she asked. + +"In Baltimore." Foster flashed her a grateful glance. "I hope you made +use of my car yesterday, Mrs. Whitney; I told Henry to take it out until +yours was repaired." + +"You were very kind; Winslow went out in it." Mrs. Whitney's glance +strayed to the door; she was anxious to return to her husband's bedside. + +"And with your permission, Randall, I'm going to use your car now to take +me home," chipped in Miss Kiametia. + +"Oh, Kiametia, you must not go," protested Mrs. Whitney. "You are such a +comfort--such a help...." + +"Don't go," added Kathleen. "Your presence makes my enforced idleness +here easier to bear." + +"Thank you, my dears." The spinster looked immensely pleased. "Of course +I'll stay, if you really feel you want me." + +"I am the only one bereft," said Foster wistfully. "I cannot call upon +you tonight, Kiametia." + +"Of course you can," exclaimed Mrs. Whitney, smiling faintly. "We are not +so selfish as to keep Kiametia to ourselves all the time. If you will +excuse me, I must go back to Winslow." + +"Certainly." Foster rose and opened the door for her. "I must not stop +longer. Good night, Miss Kathleen, I hope that you will feel better in +the morning." + +"Thanks; please come here just a moment," and reluctantly Foster +approached the bed. He did not wish to resume discussion about +Spencer's will. "Tell me," Kathleen lowered her voice, "when will the +Grand Jury meet?" + +"Not for ten days or more." + +"That is all, thanks," and Foster moved away. At the door he signaled to +Miss Kiametia to step into the hall with him, and after a quick glance at +Kathleen's averted face, the spinster followed him, softly closing the +door behind her. + +As the click of the latch reached her, Kathleen, seeing that she was +alone, leaned over and put out the light. The darkness was pleasant to +her, and she buried her hot hands under her pillows, the better to feel +the cool linen. Soothed by its contact she struggled to reduce her +chaotic thoughts to order. Sinclair Spencer had left her money--Sinclair +Spencer had left her money--the sentence beat in her brain tirelessly. +The idea was as repugnant to her as his personality had been. In life he +had plagued her, and in death he had involved her in conspiracy and +subjected her to cruel suspicion. + +Her father's illness has aroused her from the torpor following Charles +Miller's departure the night before. She writhed even at the recollection +of her scene with him. Again and again she had been on the point of +sending for the police and denouncing him, but remembrance of the +forty-eight hours of grace which she had granted him stayed her impulse. + +He had killed every spark of affection, she assured herself repeatedly; +and then turned and tossed upon her pillows as vivid recollection painted +each happy hour with him that winter. + +A moan broke from her, and at the sound a stealthy figure advancing from +the sitting-room adjoining, stopped dead. Hearing no further sound, the +intruder moved cautiously forward and bent over Kathleen. + +"Mademoiselle!" + +Kathleen's eyes flew open. "Julie! You have come back!" + +"Hush, mademoiselle! Not so loud," and Julie, dropping on her knees by +the bed, laid a warning finger on Kathleen's lips. Reaching out her +hands, the latter clasped the Frenchwoman in a warm embrance, which was +as warmly returned. + +"You have come back," she repeated in a whisper. "Julie, you met +with no harm?" + +"No, mademoiselle." + +"Where have you been?" + +"No matter now, mademoiselle. I spent last night with Vincent's sister, +Marie Tregot. He smuggled me into the house a little while ago. He told +me of all that you have been through. Oh, that I had stayed; but I acted +for the best, mademoiselle." + +"I am sure of that, Julie"--touched by the feeling in the maid's voice. + +"I was misled"--bitterly--"and by one I thought to be +trusted--Captain Miller." + +"Julie! He did not offer...." + +"No, no, mademoiselle"--Kathleen's taut muscles relaxed and she sank +weakly back in bed. "But I have reason to believe that Captain Miller is +not what he seems. Listen, mademoiselle: I was in M. Foster's touring +car--no matter how I came there now--last night. Henry was driving it. He +knew not that I was in the tonneau. When he stopped the car and got out I +watched him enter a residence in Nineteenth Street. I dared not stay +longer in the car, and hid in the vestibule of the house adjoining the +one he had entered. They are what you call semi-detached, and concealed I +was very close at hand. I had been there but a short time when a man ran +up the steps of the next house and I recognized Captain Miller. He +entered and I waited long, oh, so long, when out came Henry and Captain +Miller ..." + +"Well?" prompted Kathleen, as Julie came to a breathless pause. + +"The Captain entered the car with Henry and drove off. After their +departure I rang the bell of the house where I was hiding and asked +the butler who were their next-door neighbors. He said Baron Frederic +von Fincke." + +"Oh, more evidence against him!" Kathleen drew in her breath sharply. + +"Mademoiselle?" But Kathleen did not explain her remark, and Julie +continued hurriedly; "I at first thought to return here at once, but +remembered Marie Tregot. She gave me house room, and I arranged with +Vincent last night to admit me after dark today." + +"But why not come openly, Julie? No one will harm you." + +"Henry is a spy--a traitor--it did not suit my plans to have him know my +whereabouts." + +"But Julie...." + +"Mademoiselle, have patience--bear with me but a little longer--" The +excited Frenchwoman rose and going to both doors locked them. She +returned and switched on the reading lamp. "Quelle horreur! Mademoiselle, +what have these beasts done to you?" she exclaimed, aghast, inspecting +Kathleen in consternation. "They shall pay for every sign of suffering in +your face." + +"Do not let us discuss me," Kathleen sighed wearily. "Will you tell the +police of your suspicions concerning Henry?" + +"No, mademoiselle." Julie's expression changed. "I like not the police +just now. I have a plan of my own." She checked herself abruptly. "Have +you seen the _Star_?" + +"No, Julie." + +"See, it says here"--pointing to a paragraph in a folded sheet torn from +a newspaper which she drew from under her apron--"'Fire at Roebling's +Plant of Incendiary Origin.' Tell me, mademoiselle, what is Roebling's?" + +"A factory near Trenton, New Jersey, which I believe"--Kathleen spoke +somewhat uncertainly--"manufactures insulated as well as barbed wire." + +"Ah, that is used in trench fighting!" The Frenchwoman took from the +bodice of her black gown a crumpled telegram singed at the edges. "Henry +received this but an hour ago. I watched, oh, so carefully. I saw him +turn pale, and such was his haste to leave the house that he did not wait +to see that the paper burned when he threw it in the grate. Can you +translate it for me, mademoiselle?" + +Smoothing out the telegram, Kathleen, with the maid intently peering +over her shoulder, read the words it contained besides the address, in +puzzled silence: + +Trenton, hurry. + +Hartzmann. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +IN FULL CRY + + +Senator Foster, buttoning his overcoat against the March wind, left +Calumet Place and sought his yellow touring car standing at the curb of +an intersecting street near by. He had dispensed with the services of +his chauffeur for that night. Seating himself behind the steering wheel, +he started the machine down Fourteenth Street, so deep in thought that +he barely missed running over two belated pedestrians scurrying to the +sidewalk, and entirely missed the signals of a street-crossing +policeman, who contented himself with a string of curses as he +recognized the yellow car and bullied the next automobile chauffeur as a +slight vent to his feelings. + +As Foster sped by the War, State, and Navy Building he noted the lights +burning in widely separated office rooms and smiled grimly to himself. +Parking the car near the Whitney residence, he made his way to the front +door. Miss Kiametia Grey answered his impatient ring at the bell. + +"A nice hour for you to keep your appointment, and for me to see +attractive men," she grumbled, leading the way to the library. +"Fortunately, I have a reputation for eccentricity--it saves me a great +deal of annoyance, and covers--er--indiscretions." + +"You--the most discreet of women," protested Foster, seating himself on +the sofa by her. "And I have come tonight to confide in you...." + +"Have you?" dryly. "I doubt it; but go ahead"--generous encouragement +in her tone. + +"How is Whitney?" + +"Pulse stronger, but still unconscious. Minna, poor child, insists that +he knows her, and will not permit herself to believe in what I fear is +the inevitable." + +"Perhaps it is better so," compassionately. "What should we do without +hope in this world? I should not be surprised if Kathleen's condition is +graver than her father's." Meeting her surprised look, he tapped his +forehead significantly. "Brain fever." + +"She is acting queerly," admitted the spinster. "Tonight she locked +herself in her room, won't see even the nurse, and refuses food." + +"I fear the breaking point is near," conceded Foster. "I did not like Dr. +McLane's manner when we met him on leaving Kathleen; he also is worried." + +He paused and asked abruptly, "Has Kathleen seen Charles Miller?" + +"Not today." + +"When was he last here?" + +"Let me see," calculating on her fingers. "He came with you on Wednesday +when I was here--today is Saturday." + +"Did Kathleen see him on Wednesday?" + +"I don't think so." + +"Has he been here since?" + +"I can't say; possibly the servants can tell you." + +"Will you find out from them before I go?" Miss Kiametia nodded +affirmatively, and he asked; "Has Kathleen spoken to you of seeing him +since Spencer's death?" + +"No." + +"Has she ever confided to you whether she cares for him or not?" + +"Not in words," dryly. "But my woman's intuition tells me ..." + +"Yes?" as she paused. + +"That Kathleen worships the ground he walks on." + +"Too bad." Foster sat back, looking troubled. "Too, too bad." + +"What's this? A deathbed repentance? _You_ introduced Miller in +Washington," and the spinster's sharp eyes bored into him. + +Foster moved uncomfortably. "I am sincerely sorry," he mumbled. "I have +been grossly deceived." + +"Humph!" Miss Kiametia moved closer to his side. "Go on--confession is +good for the soul." + +"I can't tell you just now," was the disappointing rejoinder. "Who found +Whitney in his studio this morning?" + +"I did; and a nice shock I had," with a shudder. "The antics in this +house are deranging my nervous system. I can't even sleep." + +"How did you happen to be around at that hour?" + +"Rosa had a bad attack of indigestion after serving dinner, and I +promised to look in and see how she was during the night. Just as I came +out of her room I thought I heard groans and rushed upstairs; found the +studio door open, and by aid of my electric torch, found Winslow lying on +the floor." + +"Did you see anyone else in the room?" + +"No, I only had the light from the torch to guide me, and that is a very +big room, with models and furniture standing around in odd spots." + +"Why didn't you turn on the electric lights?" impatiently. + +"Couldn't find the switch. I did press a button, the only one I +could locate in my haste, and it brought Henry, who switched on the +lights for me." + +"And afterward did you find any trace of papers' having been stolen? +Drawers opened, or anything?" + +"I never looked to see." Foster sat back in bitter disappointment. "All I +thought about was breaking the news of Winslow's condition to Minna and +Kathleen, and getting a doctor. Henry attended to _that_; and I went +downstairs, awoke Minna," she hesitated perceptibly, "Kathleen I found +sitting in her bedroom--dressed." + +"What!" Foster shot her a swift glance. "Asleep?" + +"No. Just sitting there, apparently too dazed to realize my presence, let +alone what I told her. Finally she grasped the news of her father's +illness, and her grief was bitter." + +"Poor girl!" + +Miss Kiametia fingered her gown nervously. "You were in Baltimore when +the newspapers published Spencer's will, and this afternoon Dr. McLane +interrupted us," she began. "Is it really true that Sinclair Spencer left +Kathleen a small fortune?" + +"Yes. On investigation, I find he held valuable stock, as well as +improved real estate of known value." + +"Sinclair Spencer was a bad egg," said Miss Kiametia slowly. "It would +have been like him to boast of his wealth to Kathleen, and by its power +seek to influence her to accept him." + +"A man will do anything to win the woman he loves," said Foster, with a +sidelong look of affection utterly lost on the spinster, who sat deep +in thought. + +"A large legacy," she commented aloud. "It establishes a motive which I +thought lacking before." + +"Kiametia!" Foster shook her elbow roughly. "What are you hinting at?" + +"Hush!" The spinster pointed to the portières in the doorway leading to +the drawing-room. "Who is lurking there?" + +She spoke in a subdued whisper which reached Foster's ears alone, but as +he rose, startled, the portières parted and Detective Mitchell walked +over to them. + +"Have you seen Captain Charles Miller?" he asked eagerly, omitting +other greeting. + +"No," they replied in concert. + +"Strange! I saw him enter the front door half an hour ago, using a +latchkey." + +"Charles Miller with a latchkey of this house!" gasped Miss Kiametia. + +"Yes," declared Mitchell, "and I have searched the house and cannot +find him." + +"Perhaps he came to see Kathleen," suggested Foster. + +"Could you go and see if he is with her, Miss Grey?" urged Mitchell. "Her +suite of rooms is the one place where I have not looked." + +"Yes, I--I suppose so," but the spinster held back. + +"Do go," put in Foster gently. "A clandestine meeting is not wise +for either Kathleen or Miller. Think of the construction which may +be put upon it." + +"True." But Miss Kiametia rose reluctantly, and to gain time to collect +her ideas, walked over to the table to gather up her scarf and gold mesh +purse. As she picked up the latter a slight scream escaped her. Instantly +the two men were by her side. + +"See, it's missing!" she cried, raising the gold mesh purse with its +dangling vanity box. + +"What is missing?" demanded Foster. "Don't look so distracted, my +darling." + +"M-m-my g-gold p-p-pencil," she stuttered. + +"Is that all?" and Foster smiled in relief. "I'll buy you another +tomorrow." + +"Indeed you won't," recovering some degree of composure. "I'll find +mine, if I have to search this house from the top to the bottom." + +"But please see Miss Whitney first," broke in Mitchell. + +Miss Kiametia cast him a strange look. "That is the first place I shall +go," she announced, and the two men watched her depart in silence. Foster +was about to speak when the electric lights flickered, grew dim, and then +went slowly out. + +"Trouble in the power house," grumbled Mitchell, searching his pocket for +his electric torch. "I noticed a tie-up in the street cars just before I +came in. Can you find any candles on the mantel, sir?" flashing his torch +in that direction. "Every light in the house must be out." + + * * * * * + +Henry, the chauffeur, paused in indecision on Baron Frederic von Fincke's +doorstep. "You are quite certain the Baron said he would return on the +night train?" + +"Quite," answered the valet. "He is due here at seven o'clock in the +morning. Good night." + +"Good night," echoed Henry, and turning went swiftly down the street. He +stopped for a moment at a news stand, talked with the proprietor, and +then turned his footsteps toward the Whitneys'. As he passed the War, +State, and Navy Building the lighted windows attracted his attention. +With deepening interest he noted the location of the rooms from which the +light shone. Officials of the government were working late. + +Turning, Henry sped down a side street and slipping up an alley, entered +the Whitney house by the rear entrance. He stood in deep thought outside +the kitchen door for a moment before opening it; a flash from his +electric torch showed the dark room was totally empty. Satisfied that +Rosa had gone to her bedroom, he crept softly up the back stairs and +along the front hall of the first bedroom floor. He had almost reached +Miss Kiametia Grey's bedroom door when a slight noise made him pause and +glance up the winding front stairs. He shrank farther back in the shadows +of the dark hall as a faint light appeared, outlining a white face +peering down the staircase. + +Henry caught his breath sharply. How came Julie to be back in the house? +The she-devil! Spying upon him. By God! The reckoning was close at hand, +and he crawled forward a pace, then stopped. Julie had vanished, and with +her the light. Henry debated for a moment. With Julie in the house, his +plans were changed. + +Losing no time, and as noiseless as the shadows about him, Henry made +his way down the back stairs, into the kitchen, down another flight of +steps into the sub-cellar, past the bottom of the elevator shaft, the +motor room, and to the front of the house. With swift, deft fingers he +swung aside a panel of shelves containing rows of preserve jars and +pickles, and stepped inside a small chamber. Carefully he drew to the +panel which, with its strong, well-oiled hinges, made no sound as it +slipped into place. A second more and the small chamber was flooded with +light as Henry found the switch. Never glancing at the batteries lining +the wall, he went direct to the small pine table, and his fingers sought +the telegraph instruments and set them in motion. + +Upstairs in the library the two candles which Foster had been able to +find in the desk drawer burned brightly in their improvised candlesticks. +The flame, however, served but to intensify the darkness of the large +room. The minutes had ticked themselves away in swift succession, but +still Miss Kiametia Grey did not return. Mitchell shut his watch with an +impatient snap, and Foster, his nerves not fully under control, looked up +at the sound. + +"What can be keeping Miss Grey?" he asked. + +"Can't imagine, unless--" The detective never completed the sentence. + +"Come quickly," whispered a voice over his shoulder, and swinging about +with a convulsive start, Mitchell recognized Charles Miller. With common +impulse he and Foster sprang up, but he was the first to reach Miller's +side, and the candlelight shone on burnished steel. "Put up the +handcuffs, Mitchell," directed Miller contemptuously. "The time has not +yet come to use them." + +"I am not so sure of that," retorted Mitchell. "You are ..." + +"We can argue the point later." Miller made for the door. "Both of you +come with me; but for God's sake, make no noise." His manner impressed +them, and after one second's hesitation, the detective replaced the +handcuffs, and in their stead produced a revolver. + +"Go ahead," he said. "But remember, Miller, if you attempt to escape you +will be arrested." + +Without replying Miller led the way through the silent house, his torch +and occasional whispered direction guiding them to the sub-cellar. + +Inside the chamber under the parking of the house, Henry worked with +tireless energy, taking down the coded messages as they flashed from the +skilled fingers of the Government operators in the great War, State, and +Navy Department but a stone's throw away. Suddenly, above the click of +the sounder his abnormal sense of hearing caught a faint noise on the +other side of the closed panel. One movement of his hand and the chamber +was in darkness and the telegraph instrument stilled. Backing into a +corner, Henry waited, his eyes still blinded by the change from light to +darkness; but he heard the opening of the panel, and the soft swish of a +woman's skirts. + +"Julie!" His lips formed the word, but no sound issued from him as he +launched himself forward. For a few seconds he closed with his adversary. +Backward and forward they rocked; then a shot rang out and with a sob a +figure sank limply across the pine table. + +"This way!" shouted Miller, and guided by his voice Mitchell and Foster +dashed after him. They stopped just inside the chamber. Miller's torch +cast its beams across the pine table and its silent burden. A gasping cry +broke from Foster: + +"Mrs. Whitney!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +RETRIBUTIVE JUSTICE + + +"Dead!" The detective bent over Mrs. Whitney. "Shot through the heart." +He turned to his silent companions. "Who fired that revolver?" and his +own covered Miller menacingly. + +Miller, spying the electric lamp, switched it on before answering. Still +silent, he pointed to the telegrapher's outfit which confronted them and +to the tell-tale wires leading to the outer world. + +"The shot was fired," he said, "by the man who tunneled out to the +conduit in which are the cables running to the White House and War, +State, and Navy Building, and tapped them." + +"Where is he?" Mitchell cast a bewildered look about the small chamber. + +"I felt someone brush by me on the stairs in the darkness," volunteered +Foster, recovering somewhat from his stupefaction. "I fear he has got +safely away." + +"No." Miller stepped back from Mrs. Whitney's side. "Chief Connor of +the Secret Service has a cordon of operatives about the house. +Heinrich Strauss, alias Henry Ross, chauffeur, cannot escape. Listen, +isn't that a shot?" + +"I hope to God they've caught him alive!" exclaimed Mitchell, looking +sorrowfully at the dead woman. "He'll swing for this murder, if not for +the death of Sinclair Spencer." + +"I doubt if he was guilty of that crime," said Miller quietly. + +"What!" Mitchell stared incredulously at him. "What leads you to +think that?" + +"Hush!" Miller held up a warning hand as the sound of hurrying footsteps +reached them. A second more and Julie appeared in the sub-cellar, guided +by their light. Her eyes were gleaming with a strange excitement. +Unnoticed by the others, Miller swiftly removed his coat and threw it +over Mrs. Whitney so that it covered her face. + +"He is caught, that Henry!" called Julie, catching sight of Foster +standing in the opening of the secret chamber. "He was getting away, oh, +so softly in the dark, and I tripped him. But yes, and he +fired"--touching a red gash in her cheek. "But the others, they pounced +upon him. La--la! And they are bringing him here. But what--?" trying to +peer past Foster. + +Miller stepped forward. "Crouch down behind those barrels, Julie," he +ordered, and the Frenchwoman, startled by his sudden appearance, obeyed +mechanically. By sheer force of personality Miller took command. "Go back +and wait in the telegraph room," he whispered hurriedly. "You do the +questioning, Mitchell; I'll keep out of sight here." + +Before Mitchell could ask the question burning on his lips, a number of +men made their way down the staircase, Heinrich Strauss in their midst, +handcuffed to the tallest operative. Mitchell saluted as he recognized +the foremost man. + +"This room will interest you, Chief," he said, making way for him, and +Connor took a comprehensive look over the chamber. + +"We've found the leak," he acknowledged. "Clever work that," inspecting +the arrangement of the wires. He drew back at the sight of the covered +figure stretched across the table. "What's this--murder?" + +"Yes," answered Mitchell. "Henry, here," jerking his thumb toward the +erstwhile chauffeur, "killed the woman before we could interfere." + +"Did I?" demanded Heinrich. "How are you going to prove it? I wasn't in +this room ..." + +"You waste time," said a cool voice behind him, and Miller stepped into +the circle. "The game is up, Heinrich." + +"You renegade!" Heinrich was livid with fury. + +"This man is Heinrich Strauss," continued Miller quietly. "One of the +most expert electricians and telegraph operators in Germany. He could be +described as an electrical genius." + +"His work shows that," acknowledged Chief Connor. + +A slight stir in the doorway caused Heinrich to turn, and he smiled +evilly at sight of Kathleen and Miss Kiametia Grey. + +"I'm glad you've come," he said, addressing Kathleen directly, as she +shrank back at sight of him. "That man there," pointing to Miller, "is +Karl von Mueller, captain in the Secret Service." A low moan broke from +Kathleen, and she looked anywhere but at Miller, who had stepped forward +to stand between her and the pine table with its pathetic burden. "Von +Mueller," continued Heinrich, "killed Sinclair Spencer." + +"I deny it," exclaimed Miller. + +"Lies won't help," retorted Heinrich. "Miss Whitney, did you not attempt +to rub off with your handkerchief from Spencer's blood-stained shirt, +Captain von Mueller's finger print?" + +The question from that source was unexpected. Twice Kathleen strove to +answer. She cast an agonized look about the circle of men, but their set, +stern faces gave her no help. + +"Yes," and the monosyllable was little more than a murmur. + +"Ah, take that down, Detective Mitchell," exclaimed Heinrich, +triumphantly. "And von Mueller was in the house that night--do you deny +it?" + +"No." Miller's clear voice did not falter nor did his gaze, and Mitchell, +handcuffs in evidence, looked perplexedly at Chief Connor. The latter was +watching Miller like a lynx, and the Secret Service operatives closed up +in the entranceway--there was no chance to escape, handcuffs seemed +unnecessary. + +The smile that crossed Heinrich's lips was cruel. "We will swing +together, von Mueller," he said. "Turning state's evidence will not save +you, you traitor!" With an effort he controlled his rage, and spoke more +calmly, "Chief Connor, your informer last night stole Whitney's +invention; besides admitting to me that he had it, he left these +tell-tale finger prints"--his hand sought his pocket, but a quick jerk on +the handcuffs stopped him. "Take it out yourself," he snarled to the +operative next him, "inside pocket." His request was quickly complied +with. "There, that tells the story; open it." + +Detective Mitchell bent eagerly forward and gazed at the sheet, then +turned to Miller. + +"Let me see your hands," he directed. Obediently Miller held them palm +uppermost, and the detective and Chief Connor examined the half-moon scar +on the index finger of his right hand with minute care. + +"It tallies," exclaimed Mitchell. A cry from Kathleen broke the silence. +Miller whitened as he heard it. + +"The evidence is conclusive, is it not?" mocked Heinrich. "If that dead +woman could speak"--pointing to the table--"she would tell you how she +saw the crime committed." + +"Suppose we take her mute testimony"--and with a swift movement Miller +removed his coat. + +"Merciful God!" With eyes starting from his head Heinrich recoiled. "Mrs. +Whitney! Why didn't she let me know she was coming down here?" + +"Ah, then she was in the habit of coming?" + +Miller's remark remained unanswered. Heinrich stared and stared again at +Mrs. Whitney, great beads of sweat standing on his forehead. "I thought +it was Julie--that hell-cat!" he muttered. "Why, why didn't she speak, +and let me know who she was?" Then suddenly he collapsed on the one +chair in the chamber and bowed his head. + +At sight of Mrs. Whitney a gasping cry escaped Kathleen. Involuntarily +her eyes strayed about the chamber, her dazed senses slowly grasping the +situation. In the appalling silence one idea became paramount--Henry, the +chauffeur, was a spy, and both his words and behavior implicated Mrs. +Whitney. She, his accomplice? Oh, impossible! She put the thought from +her, but memories, unconsidered trifles, rose to combat Kathleen's +loyalty. Had Mrs. Whitney's smilingly collected manner and dignified +reserve cloaked a cold, calculating, and treacherous nature? + +Kathleen shuddered in horror, and reeled back into Miss Kiametia's arms. +The spinster, shaken out of her forced composure, was crying without +realizing it. She placed a protecting arm about Kathleen and held her in +close embrace. Over the shoulders of the men, Julie, who had crawled from +her hiding place behind the barrels, peered at them in mingled curiosity +and incredulity. + +"Heinrich!" Miller's voice penetrated even the spy's benumbed brain. "Why +is Mrs. Whitney wearing these finger tips?" and he held up the limp right +hand. Each finger was fitted with a wax tip, and on the index finger, +distinct and plain, was the scar shaped like a half moon. + +Stunned, the men and women present looked first at Mrs. Whitney's hand, +then at Miller, and last at Heinrich. No one spoke, and in the heavy +silence the spy's labored breathing was distinct. + +"The game is up," he admitted slowly. "I wish I hadn't done that," +nodding to the silent figure. "She didn't deserve to be shot by me. She +was faithful to Germany ..." + +"Do you mean to insinuate that Minna Whitney was a German spy?" asked +Miss Kiametia, shocked into speech. + +"Well, yes, you might call it that," taunted Heinrich. "I term it +loyalty to the Fatherland, where she was born and brought up. Her mother +was a German." + +"She would never have aided you but for your devilish wiles," broke in +Miller hotly. + +"The fact that she was deeply in debt did influence her," admitted +Heinrich insolently. "Money was her god. I had to pay handsomely before +she would engage my services as chauffeur, and let me make use of this +nice little box." + +"Did you construct this tunnel under the pavement"--pointing to where the +telegraph wires entered the chamber--"and install this outfit by +yourself?" asked Chief Connor, breaking his long silence. + +Heinrich smiled. "You will never learn that from me--and you should +remember that your conduits are laid only seven inches below the surface +of the street; it was hardly a man-sized job." He smiled again, and +continued. "Neither Mrs. Whitney nor I wished to take anyone wholly into +our confidence. She was a perfect assistant; she knew the antecedents of +nearly everyone in society here, and she invariably found out, or got +others to find out, the motives which inspired strangers to come to +Washington. Her husband never interfered with our plans, as he spent most +of his time, both day and night, in his studio. The servants never came +down in this sub-cellar, and with Mrs. Whitney's connivance, I frequently +managed to keep the limousine in the repair shop--and my time was my own. +My surroundings were ideal, even the location of this house favored my +plans ..." + +"Until you grew too ambitious," added Connor softly. + +"Perhaps." Heinrich gnawed at his underlip as he shot a glance full of +venom at Kathleen who stood with head averted, drinking in all that was +said. To hurt her, to lower her pride appealed to Heinrich; his silence +would not benefit the dead woman, while speech would cruelly hurt and +mortify both Kathleen and her father. "My government was anxious to +secure Mr. Whitney's inventions; he would not sell to them, although +Baron--" he stopped and scowled at Miller--"offered him a large sum. +Whitney stuck to it that none but his own country could have the +inventions. Then I suggested to Mrs. Whitney that she get the drawings +and specifications for me; and again I paid her a large sum of money. But +it was as difficult for Mrs. Whitney to get into the studio as for me, +and the danger to herself was not small. Her husband was very suspicious, +and he never permitted her to remain in the room alone. + +"However, because she was not aware I had perfected, as I thought, +another plan to secure the invention, and tempted by the sum of money I +held before her to succeed, she made another attempt last night. She +cried out with disappointment when, after entering, she found only blank +paper, and Whitney heard her." He stared at the horrified faces about +him, and clearing his voice, added, "The shock finished Whitney." + +"You are the devil incarnate!" exclaimed Miss Kiametia, wrathfully. + +"I'm not, but he is." Heinrich raised his manacled hands menacingly +toward Miller. "I never fully trusted you, von Mueller; although I never +found any evidence of your double dealing in your room. But while +outwardly appearing to confide in you, I took the precaution to +incriminate you should my plans miscarry. I observed the peculiar scar on +your finger, and conceived the idea of copying your finger tips in wax. +With Mrs. Whitney's help, I secured an impression of your finger prints +and had it copied in wax. The workman, another German sympathizer, +achieved a wonderful copy of the original, and by my advice Mrs. Whitney +wore the wax finger tips whenever she had work to do." + +"An ingenious plan, very," ejaculated Mitchell, "and one new to me." + +"Mrs. Whitney was wearing them on the night that Sinclair Spencer took it +into his besotted brain to investigate this house," went on Heinrich. +"Mrs. Whitney told me afterwards that she was on the way here to see me, +when she spied Spencer crouching in the elevator, the door of which was +open. She was afraid of being discovered if she went upstairs again, and +to stay was equally dangerous. + +"She had with her a hypodermic syringe which I had given her to use in an +emergency." Kathleen straightened up, and for the first time stared full +at the spy. "The syringe was filled with a solution of cyanide of +potassium," continued Henry. "Adjusting the needle, Mrs. Whitney entered +the elevator, and before Spencer could move, thrust it into his neck. +Spencer gave one convulsive start, attempted to get up, and his heavy +body lurched full against her. She held a knife in her left hand, and as +he half arose from his knees, the force of contact against the worn edges +of the knife gashed his throat. I had asked Mrs. Whitney to bring me one +of the knives which her daughter had for modeling, as I wanted to use +some putty down here. + +"With great presence of mind," continued Heinrich, after a brief pause +which no one cared to break, "Mrs. Whitney ran the elevator to the +attic, and before leaving dipped her wax finger tip in the blood flowing +from Spencer's throat, and made a distinct impression of von Mueller's +finger print on Spencer's white shirt front. Mrs. Whitney left the +elevator at the attic, but Detective Mitchell arrived before she missed +the syringe. On discovering Miss Grey had it, she made various attempts +to get it back. + +"I found the hypodermic syringe," confessed Miss Kiametia. "It was lying +inside the elevator, and I picked it up just after Kathleen was carried +from the elevator. The syringe was marked 'K.W.,' and some impulse made +me keep it, and after the inquest, when I learned cyanide of potassium +had killed Spencer, I hardly let it out of my sight"--Kathleen turned +bewildered, grateful eyes on the spinster--she was not a drug-fiend, but +the most loyal of friends. Her hand tightened on the spinster's, and her +pressure was returned twofold. "Did Kathleen's unnatural mother +deliberately have that syringe marked with her daughter's initials?" + +"Put it down to coincidence," sneered Heinrich. "Or say I had it marked +'K.W.' for--Kaiser Wilhelm." + +"I doubt it; malice alone governed your actions to all in my house." +Kathleen faced the spy proudly. "Miss Kiametia, you do Mrs. Whitney one +injustice. She was not an unnatural mother--as she was no blood kin of +mine, but my father's second wife. She never told anyone that I was not +her child. I don't know why she kept the matter a secret, but I only +learned it accidentally a year ago, and respecting her wishes, never said +anything about it." + +"Mrs. Whitney was secretive by nature," said Heinrich. "And that instinct +made her a willing pawn." + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + +LOVE PARAMOUNT + + +Pausing only long enough to say a parting word to Coroner Penfield and +Chief Connor, Miller hastened up the back stairs and entered the library. +Kathleen and Miss Kiametia Grey, utterly unmindful of the hour, sat on +the sofa, and near them stood Julie, a neat bandage wound about her cheek +and head, while Senator Foster paced agitatedly up and down the room. He +stopped on seeing Miller. + +"Will you kindly inform us who you are?" he demanded peremptorily. "The +Secretary of State showed me a letter tonight from Vincent stating that +you were a German spy ..." + +"Oh, that Vincent!" exclaimed Julie. "I talked too much to him." + +"I came here at once," went on Foster, paying no attention to Julie, +"hoping to elicit some facts about you from Miss Grey and Miss Kathleen. +Tell us at once who you are." + +"Charles Miller Trent," was the calm reply. + +"Then why"--Kathleen sprang to her feet--"why were you masquerading as +Karl von Mueller when I knew you in Germany?" + +"I beg your pardon, you did not know me in Germany." Kathleen +crimsoned at the direct contradiction. "But you did know my cousin, +Karl von Mueller." + +Too dazed for utterance, Kathleen stared at him, studying his face as +never before, and gradually her incredulity gave place to belief. Feature +for feature, coloring matching coloring, the man before her resembled +Karl as she remembered him, but the honesty and steadfast purpose to be +read in Miller's square jaw and fine eyes had been lacking in his cousin. + +"The likeness is extraordinary," she stammered. + +"Yes," agreed Miller. "But I do not think you would have been so +thoroughly certain of my identity if I had not copied my cousin's +mannerisms as well as his handwriting." + +"Then you were brought up together?" asked Foster. + +"In a way, yes. I was never in Germany, but my aunt, Frau von Mueller, +spent many winters at my father's home in Rio Janeiro...." + +"What, are you the son of the coffee importer, Charles M. Trent," +demanded Foster, again interrupting him. + +"Yes. As boys Karl and I were perpetually changing identities and +confusing our playmates, as well as our parents. To that end I was a +willing German scholar, and Karl also became proficient in his +English studies." + +"Were you entirely educated in South America?" asked Miss Kiametia. + +"Oh, no; I spent a great deal of time in Santa Barbara, my mother's home, +and later attended Stanford University. But I have seldom been in the +East, and have few friends here. Last fall I overcame my mother's +objection (she unfortunately sympathized with Germany), and went to +England to enlist in the British army," continued Miller, after a brief +pause. "The night of my arrival in London I was arrested, charged with +being a spy. I had great difficulty, even with my passport and letters to +my bankers, in proving I was not a spy. Finally, I was told that a man +resembling me had been arrested, tried at once, and executed that day." + +"They keep such things quiet over there," commented Foster. + +"To cut a long story short, I was taken to see the dead spy, and found +he was my cousin, Karl von Mueller"--He hesitated and glanced sorrowfully +at Kathleen who sat with head averted. How would she take the news he was +imparting--how deep was her affection for the dead spy? Sighing, he +continued his statement. "The indorsement of my father's influential +friends, whom I had called upon to establish my identity, evidently +carried weight, for on my release it was suggested to me by one high in +authority that, instead of enlisting in the army, I use my cousin's +identity and spy upon the Germans. There was a spice of deviltry in the +scheme and--I accepted. + +"They gave me his papers, clothes, money, and I slipped straight into his +place. None of his companions had heard of his arrest and death. Those +whom I saw I told I had been out of London on a special mission, and they +believed the statement without question. By aid of such papers as my +cousin had kept concealed on his person, I learned something of his +methods, and contact with his companions in London taught me assurance. +No one doubted my identity. Karl had assumed the name of Charles Miller +and it was easy for me to drop my surname. Finally I was sent to a +certain town in the warring countries, and there I received instructions +to come to the United States." + +"Did the Germans accept your identity without question?" asked Foster. + +"Apparently so; but I was not in Germany twenty-four hours, and the Herr +Chief of the Secret Service was familiar with my cousin's appearance and +never doubted he was talking to Karl," answered Miller. "On my arrival +here I communicated at once with Chief Connor, giving him the credentials +I had brought from the London office. By his advice I followed out the +instructions given me by the Herr Chief of the German Secret Service, and +to all intents and purposes was a German spy. But as I grew to know Baron +von Fincke better, I became convinced that another and cleverer man was +responsible for the leak in the carefully guarded offices of this +government. I suspected everyone," Miller smiled suddenly, "even you, +Senator Foster--your peace propaganda fooled me...." + +"Wait," broke in Miss Kiametia. "Randall shan't be blamed for that; +Minna Whitney insinuated that he would not make a peace speech even for +me, so I--I...." + +"Proved her wrong," Foster laughed ruefully. "Mrs. Whitney was a keen +student of human nature; but continue, Miller--er--Trent--I won't +interrupt again." + +"Chief Connor confided to me that messages were being wirelessed to +German cruisers, and that while the station at Sayville, Long Island, was +under surveillance, they were powerless to check the new use of the +wireless." Miller drew his chair closer. "I made a study of wireless +while at college, and the problem here fascinated me. I finally reached +the conclusion ..." + +"Yes, go on," urged Foster. + +"That messages to the German cruisers were being relayed from stations +close together; in other words, that the station in the heart of this +city had a wave length shorter than Arlington's minimum wave length, and +the Arlington Radio Station was unable to hear--you already know that a +transmitting and receiving station can only hear each other when in tune; +that is, the wave length of each must be equal. I therefore established a +receiving station in my room with a short wave length--and the result +justified my reasoning." + +"Good!" ejaculated Foster heartily. + +"But at that, while I had the messages to turn over to Chief Connor, I +was still in the dark as to the location of the sender. You know it is +impossible to determine the direction or distance of a transmitting +station by its waves--a ship at sea cannot be found by wireless unless +its bearings are given. I concluded that the transmitting station must be +in the vicinity of the government buildings, and the next relay within +five miles--a greater wave length could be picked up by Arlington. + +"On Tuesday night I got on the roof of one of the tall government +buildings near here, and examining each roof as I crossed it looking for +wireless antennae, I finally reached this house. I suspected I was being +watched by Baron von Fincke, but managed to confuse him as to the +direction I was taking, and finally clambered down into this attic +through the scuttle. I was certain he was not aware of my identity, and +for the sake of my plans, could not risk discovery. + +"I had never been in your attic before," went on Miller, addressing +Kathleen directly. "I was not even positive this was your house. When +trying to find my way about I chanced upon the elevator shaft; I thought +I was walking into a closet. At that moment I heard a footstep on the +stair." Julie started and bent eagerly forward. "Desiring to get away as +quickly as possible, I pressed the button for the elevator...." + +"But the elevator must have been right there," interrupted Kathleen. +"You could not have opened the outer mahogany door otherwise." + +"So I realized when I had collected my wits," responded Miller. "Opening +both doors, I bolted into the elevator a few minutes before the footsteps +reached the attic." + +"Was Spencer in the elevator then?" questioned Foster. + +"I don't know; the elevator was dark, and I only used my flashlight for a +second to show me the proper button to push for the first floor. It may +be that Spencer was in the elevator, but I did not see him." + +"But I did," volunteered Julie, coming forward. "And I it was you heard +creeping upstairs. I believed that Henry was a spy and feared that he +would steal Mr. Whitney's invention. Oh, monsieur, I was so intent on +guarding the studio I never gave a thought to the sub-cellar. Frequently +I watched all night in a niche I had fashioned near the wine closet, but +on Tuesday, alas! I slept. The soft closing of the elevator door awoke +me, and a person whom, by her walk and height, I judged to be +mademoiselle, moved away from the elevator and went downstairs. Inspired +by curiosity I entered the elevator a moment later, and switched on the +light. I was almost overcome by the sight of M. Spencer, and turned out +the light to shut away the view. I rushed to my room; but I could not +rest. I was in agony for you, mademoiselle; that very afternoon I had +warned you against Monsieur Spencer, and I feared--Oh, forgive me! that +you had killed him because he had injured your father. After a long +interval I crept upstairs to the attic and there tried to puzzle out what +would be best to do for mademoiselle. Fearing the police would make me +tell what I had seen, I ran away." + +"When did you discover Sinclair Spencer in the elevator, Kathleen?" asked +Miss Kiametia. + +"When I went to find Julie on Wednesday morning," began Kathleen. "I was +very absent-minded that morning, and after pressing the button for the +elevator never noticed whether it was long arriving at my floor or +not--the length of time it takes to reach a floor is the only way we have +of judging from where it comes," she explained. "I entered the elevator +intent only on pushing the basement button, which I did with my right +hand, pulling the folding grille-work steel door to with my left hand. My +back was turned to where Sinclair Spencer lay." She shuddered at the +recollection. "Just before the elevator reached the basement I turned +around and saw him. At first I was too stunned to move; then impulsively +turned on the electric light so that I might see better, and discovered +the finger print on his shirt. + +"I don't suppose I would have been so quick to recognize the finger mark +had not Miss Kiametia called my attention to it the day before when +reading Captain M--Trent's palm," she resumed, not looking at Miller. +"Horrified, I took my handkerchief and strove to make the stain +unrecognizable; then suddenly I lost control of myself, and gave vent to +scream after scream, and pressed my finger to the button nearest my hand. +I was taken to the third floor, but the stopping of the elevator did not +bring me self-control, and I think I should have lost my mind if the +elevator had not moved of itself; I realized someone had pushed a floor +button, but when the elevator stopped again and Miss Kiametia opened the +door, I had lost all reason ... I...." She stopped, overcome by the +recollection. + +"My poor darling!" Miss Kiametia kissed her tenderly. + +"How did you get that scar on your finger, Trent?" inquired Foster. + +"While on a hunting trio with my father in the interior of South +America my cousin and I, then fifteen and sixteen respectively, played a +trick on one of our Indian guides. With the assistance of other Indians +he branded my finger, saying by the half-moon we would be identified one +from the other." + +"That explains." Kathleen drew a long breath. "I racked my brain +to remember whether I had seen the scar on your finger in Germany, +and concluded you had perhaps received the injury since--since our +last meeting." + +"Tell me, Kathleen," broke in Miss Kiametia, "how did it happen that +Sinclair Spencer had a flower from your bouquet in his hand?" + +"I don't know, except that I wore the flowers the night before, and one +may have fallen on the floor of the elevator and he picked it up." + +Julie, who had followed Kathleen's every word with the closest attention, +stepped to Miller Trent's side. "Monsieur, can you explain this +telegram?" handing it to him. "Heinrich dropped it here late this +afternoon." + +Miller read the two words, then drew out a pencil. "Divide the word +'Trenton' to 'Trent on' and it reads: 'Trent on, hurry.' Yesterday +afternoon I met a man named Hartzmann; he had known Karl intimately, and +before I left him I realized something had aroused his suspicions. In +New York he communicated with Buenos Ayres, found my whereabouts was +unknown to my family, and jumped to the conclusion that I was +impersonating my cousin." + +"How do you know that?" demanded Foster. + +"The Secret Service operative shadowing Hartzmann notified me of it +today," answered Miller. "Obviously Hartzmann neglected to give any key +to his dispatch to Heinrich, and the latter must have been entirely in +the dark as to the real meaning of the warning. Von Fincke, whom +Hartzmann apparently relied on to enlighten Heinrich, is out of town." + +"Was it the operative's message to you about Hartzman which brought you +here tonight?" asked Foster. + +"No; I came hoping for an opportunity to examine Mr. Whitney's studio, +and used a key to the front door which I had had made without Heinrich's +knowledge. I thought by examining the studio I could find out who really +went there last night; Heinrich brought me a set of the finger prints, +and their startling resemblance to mine convinced me that a plot, +devilish in its ingenuity, was being concocted and an attempt made to +involve me in their machinations. On my way to the studio I saw Heinrich +creeping downstairs and followed him. I never for one moment suspected +Mrs. Whitney." + +"Nor did anyone else," agreed Foster. "Except that Heinrich was shocked +into confession by his having unintentionally killed Mrs. Whitney, +thinking her Julie, we might never have learned the whole truth. +Mitchell, after seeing Vincent's note to the Secretary of State, was +thoroughly convinced you were guilty. By the way, Kiametia, what kept you +so long upstairs when Mitchell asked you to find out if Miller was with +Miss Kathleen?" + +"Searching for that hypodermic needle; I believed Kathleen had +taken it back." + +"Did you see Mrs. Whitney upstairs?" + +"No, I stopped for a moment in Winslow's room, and the nurse told me +Minna had gone to her bedroom to lie down." + +"What possessed her to go to the sub-cellar?" asked Foster. + +"Probably a demon of unrest, or she may have had some message to leave +for Heinrich," suggested Miller. "When he grappled with her in the dark +she undoubtedly thought him a detective and dared not call out for fear +of disclosing her identity. Probably she thought Heinrich out of the +house, and never dreamed of his attacking her." + +"And Heinrich mistook her for me." Julie's eyes glowed. "The hand of +God! But, monsieur, why did you advise that I stay away from +mademoiselle, and take me to that dreadful house?" + +"Because, Julie, you were hysterical, and I feared if interviewed, you +might make some statement in all good faith which would do Miss Kathleen +irreparable injury. I also believed that your absence would serve to +divert suspicion until I had a chance to find the real criminal; I met +you before the inquest, and did not realize that your disappearance could +be used to militate against Miss Kathleen. As for Mrs. Robinson"--he +laughed slightly--"she keeps a private sanitarium, but just now has no +patients. You were perfectly safe there, and I had Connor detail an +operative to see that Heinrich did not torment you." + +"What will become of Baron von Fincke?" + +"Chief Connor and the State Department will handle his case. Connor told +me he found the Baron's next door neighbor--a man named Frank Lutz...." + +"Mercy, his wife's a member of the Sisters in Unity!" ejaculated +Miss Kiametia. + +"Lutz has a complete wireless transmitting station," went on Miller. "He +was stunned by his arrest, and attempted suicide; Connor believes he can +induce him to tell the locations of the other relay stations. Lutz had +the wireless antennae strung along the ceilings in the upper corridors of +his house. He declares they have just perfected a method to overcome +static interference." + +"And what about Heinrich?" asked Julie anxiously. "Will he escape?" + +"No, he will undoubtedly pay the penalty of his crime; Mitchell took him +in charge. Coroner Penfield was here a short time ago," added Miller, +turning to Miss Kiametia. "He assisted us to take Mrs. Whitney to her +bedroom; I left Rosa, the cook, there." + +"Thank you," murmured Kathleen. + +"I think I had better go upstairs and see to everything," and the +spinster rose. + +"Just a minute," Miller hesitated. "I felt that another and more +determined attempt would be made to get Mr. Whitney's invention, +Kathleen, and so suggested to him that he trust me with the drawings and +specifications." + +"Did he?" + +"Yes, and I took them over and deposited them in the care of Chief +Connor." + +"A capital idea," exclaimed Foster. + +"Then father's inventions are quite safe?" asked Kathleen. + +"Yes. One is a camera for taking a map of the country from an airship; +the other, still more marvelous--glass armor." + +"Glass what!" chorused his listeners. + +"Armor. A suit woven from a combination of mica and glass which Mauser +bullets cannot penetrate." + +"Good Lord!" Foster tugged at his hair until it stood upright. + +"We can discuss the inventions at another time," announced the +spinster, recovering from her astonishment. "I'll be upstairs, +Kathleen, if you want me." + +"Wait, I'm coming," but Foster turned on the threshold of the door, his +curiosity mastering him. "There's just one question, Miss Kathleen; if +you knew Karl von Mueller in Germany and, as you thought, met him here +using the name of Charles Miller, why did you not at once conclude he was +a German spy?" + +"Because a year ago a school friend in Germany wrote me that Karl had +disappeared after a duel, and she believed he was living in America under +an assumed name," replied Kathleen, rising hurriedly. "Under those +circumstances I thought it natural that he should have anglicized his +name. Won't you stop--?" + +"No, thanks," hastily. "I must see Kiametia. Good-night," and he +disappeared into the hall. Miss Kiametia was talking to a white-capped +nurse, who continued on her way upstairs on Foster's approach. + +"Winslow has regained consciousness," announced Miss Kiametia, "and is +sleeping naturally at last." + +"I am delighted to hear it." Foster's tired face lighted with pleasure. +"Shall I tell Kathleen?" + +"No, not just yet; good news will keep, and I think she is entitled to +the happiness of being with the man she loves." + +"Do you never crave for that happiness, Kiametia?" and there was a +wistful tenderness in his voice which made the spinster blink +suspiciously. Suddenly she slipped her hand in his. + +"Suppose I say yes, for a change," she whispered, burying her head on his +shoulder, and with a thankful heart Foster held her close as he whispered +tender, soothing words in her ear. + +Neither Kathleen nor Miller cared to break the silence which prevailed +after Foster's departure. Julie had slipped away at the same time. The +pause became embarrassing, and in desperation Miller broke it. + +"Kathleen, can you ever forgive me?" standing tall and straight before +her. "I acted what seems now a contemptible part--but I had to know whom +you were protecting, whom you suspected of killing Spencer--I +thought--forgive me--your father guilty. Until you said last night that +you were shielding me, I had no idea of such a possibility; then I jumped +to the conclusion that you had seen me in this house on Tuesday night, +and imagined you were the person creeping up to the attic. Then, +then--God help me!--came the idea that German gold had corrupted you, +also. I put you to a severe test; but I wanted my doubts that you might +be in German pay absolutely refuted. Even when I threatened, you stood +firm." He drew in his breath sharply. "You will never know how I admired +you and hated myself." + +She answered with a question. "How did you know of my friendship with +your cousin, Karl?" + +"We have always been confidentially intimate. In a moment of remorse he +wrote me about you, telling me of your elopement, and stating that he +took you to a village removed from a railroad for the wedding, and there +found the priest too ill in bed to perform the ceremony; he confessed +that he got drunk, lost his head, and--and--suggested that you dispense +with the marriage ceremony." + +Kathleen crimsoned to the roots of her hair. "Did he tell you that I +indignantly refused, escaped from him, and started out to walk to the +nearest railroad station. There I met John Hargraves, told him of my +elopement, then accompanied him to the hotel in the next town where his +cousin was stopping and spent the night with her, returning next day +under her escort to the school. She explained to the principal that I had +been visiting her, and smoothed over what promised to be a scandal." + +"Yes, Karl wrote me of that also, but he did you the tardy justice of +never mentioning your full name. When I met you at Chevy Chase I +realized suddenly that you had mistaken me for him and--" Miller +hesitated for a brief second--"I followed the game. Kathleen," his +hitherto clear voice faltered, "I followed it to my own undoing. Each +time that you repulsed me, you inspired me--first, with admiration; +then, all unbidden, came love--love, so faithful and unswerving that not +even the toils of treachery and false witness which threatened to +envelope you, could alter it." He hesitated again, his face white and +strained. "Tell me frankly, Kathleen, did you accept me on Tuesday only +because you thought me Karl?" + +"No." Kathleen's face was rosy with color and her eyes shone with a new +radiance. Eagerly Miller clasped her hands and, bending his head, kissed +them. "Whatever schoolgirl affection I cherished for Karl was long since +dead before I met you. To you alone I gave my heart." + +"My love, my love," he murmured softly. "May God aid me to atone to +you for the sorrow of the past!" and looking up into his eyes, as his +arms stole round her, Kathleen read there that the glory of life was +hers at last. + + + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of I Spy, by Natalie Sumner Lincoln + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK I SPY *** + +***** This file should be named 9812-8.txt or 9812-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/9/8/1/9812/ + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Mary Meehan and PG +Distributed Proofreaders + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: I Spy + +Author: Natalie Sumner Lincoln + +Posting Date: November 17, 2011 [EBook #9812] +Release Date: February, 2006 +First Posted: October 19, 2003 +[Last updated: October 29, 2020] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK I SPY *** + + + + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Mary Meehan and PG +Distributed Proofreaders + + + + + + + + + + + + I SPY + + BY NATALIE SUMNER LINCOLN + + 1916 + + + + +_To MRS. SARAH VAIL GOULD my grandmother to whose affection belongs many +joyous days of childhood at "Oaklands" this book is offered as a loving +tribute to her memory._ + + + + +CONTENTS + + I. AT VICTORIA STATION + + II. OUT OF THE VOID + + III. POWERS THAT PREY + + IV. "SHOULD AULD ACQUAINTANCE BE FORGOT?" + + V. AN EVENTFUL EVENING + + VI. AT THE CAPITOL + + VII. PHANTOM WIRES + + VIII. KAISER BLUMEN + + IX. THE SPIDER AND THE FLY + + X. SISTERS IN UNITY + + XI. A MAN IN A HURRY + + XII. A SINISTER DISCOVERY + + XIII. HIDE AND SEEK + + XIV. A QUESTION OF LOYALTY + + XV. THE GAME, "I SPY" + + XVI. AT THE MORGUE + + XVII. CIRCUMSTANTIAL EVIDENCE + + XVIII. A PROPOSAL + + XIX. THE YELLOW STREAK + + XX. THE AWAKENING + + XXI. THE FINGER PRINT + + XXII. "TRENTON HURRY" + + XXIII. IN FULL CRY + + XXIV. RETRIBUTIVE JUSTICE + + XXV. LOVE PARAMOUNT + + + + +LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS + + +"He saw Kathleen quickly palm his place card" + +"As Henry pushed back the door, she collapsed into her father's arms" + +"'A flash, the rifle's recoil--and Mr. Whitney still standing just +where he was'" + +"Whitney paused to snatch up a magnifying glass and by its aid examined +the finger prints" + + + + +CHAPTER I + +AT VICTORIA STATION + + +The allied forces, English and French, had been bent backward day by day, +until it seemed as if Paris was fairly within the Germans' grasp. Bent +indeed, but never broken, and with the turning of the tide the Allied +line had rushed forward, and France breathed again. + +Two men, seated in a room of the United Service Club in London one gloomy +afternoon in November, 1914, talked over the situation in tones too low +to reach other ears. The older man, Sir Percival Hargraves, had been +bemoaning the fact that England seemed honeycombed by the German Secret +Service, and his nephew, John Hargraves, an officer in uniform, was +attempting to reassure him. It was a farewell meeting, for the young +officer was returning to the front. + +"Much good will all this espionage do the Germans," said the young man. +"We are easily holding our own, and with the spring will probably come +our opportunity." He clicked his teeth together. "What price then all +these suspected plots and futile intrigues?" + +"Don't be so damned cocksure," rapped out his uncle, his exasperation +showing in heightened color and snapping eyes. "It's that same +cocksureness which has almost brought the British Empire to the very +brink of dissolution." + +His nephew smiled tolerantly, and shifted his thickset figure to a more +comfortable position. + +"Now, now," he cautioned. "Remember what old Sawbones told you yesterday +about not exciting yourself. Said you weren't to read or talk about this +bally old war. Leave the worrying to Kitchener; he'll see we chaps do +our part." + +"If everything were left to Kitchener!" Sir Percival thumped the arm of +his chair. "Some of us would sleep easier in our beds. And I know you +chaps at the front will do your part. Would to God I could be with you!" +glancing at his shrunken and useless left leg. "If I could only take a +pot at the beggars!" + +"According to your belief the firing line will shortly be on English +soil," chaffed his nephew, avoiding looking at his companion. He knew the +tragic circumstances surrounding his uncle's maimed condition, and wished +to avoid anything touching upon sentiment. + +"If the plans to undermine England's home government are perfected and +carried out, every man, woman and child will have to band together to +repel invasion." Sir Percival lowered his voice. "If there are any +able-bodied men left here." + +"Don't be so pessimistic. Kitchener has built up a great army, and is +only waiting the proper moment to launch it in the field." + +"The best of England has volunteered," agreed Sir Percival, "but what +about the slackers? What about the coal strikes--the trouble in our +munition factories? All are chargeable to the Kaiser's war machine which +overlooks nothing in its complete preparedness. Preparedness--England +doesn't yet know the meaning of the word." + +"It's time for me to leave," said the young officer, consulting his +watch. "Take my word for it, Uncle, we're not going to the demnition +bowwows--count on England's bulldog grit. God help Germany when the +Allies get into that country!" + +"When--ah, when?" echoed Sir Percival. "I hope that I live to see the +day. Tell me, boy," his voice softening, "how is it with you and Molly?" + +His nephew reddened under his tan. "Molly doesn't care for a chap like +me," he muttered. + +"Did she tell you so?" + +"Well, no. You see, Uncle, it--eh--doesn't seem the thing to suggest +that a charming girl like Molly tie herself to a fellow who may get his +at any time." + +"Piffle!" Sir Percival's shaggy eyebrows met in a frown. "Sentimental +nonsense! You and Molly were great chums a year ago. You told me yourself +that you hoped to marry her; I even spoke to her mother about the +suitability of the match." + +"You had no right to," blazed his nephew. "It was damned impertinent +interference." + +"You have not always thought so," retorted Sir Percival bitterly. "What +had that most impertinent American girl you met in Germany to do with +your change of front toward Molly?" + +"I must insist that you speak more respectfully of Kathleen." John +Hargraves' expression altered. "If you must know, I asked Kathleen to +marry me and--she refused." + +"I said she was impertinent. All Americans are; they don't know any +better," fumed his uncle. "Forget her, John; think of Molly. I tell you +the child loves you. Don't wreck her happiness for the sake of a +fleeting fancy." + +"Fleeting fancy?" John Hargraves shook his head sorrowfully. "When +Kathleen refused me I was hard hit; so hit I can't marry any other girl. +Don't let's talk of it." He smiled wistfully as he held out his hand. +"Time's up, Uncle; the train leaves in an hour, and I must get my kit. +Good-by, sir. Wish me luck." And before the older man could stop him he +was retreating down the hall. + +Sir Percival stared vacantly about the room. "The last of his race," he +muttered. "God help England! The toll is heavy." + +In spite of his haste John Hargraves was late in reaching Victoria +Station, and had barely time to take his place before the train pulled +slowly out. As he looked down the long trainshed, he encountered the +fixed stare of a tall, well-groomed man standing near one of the pillars. +Hargraves looked, and looked again; then his hand flew up, and leaning +far out of his compartment he shouted to a porter. But his message was +lost in the roar of the more rapidly moving train, and the porter, +shaking a bewildered head, turned back. + +The crowd of women and children and a few men, which had gathered to +witness the troop train's departure, was silently dispersing when an +obsequious porter approached the tall stranger whose appearance had so +excited John Hargraves. + +"Ye keb's out 'ere, sir," he said. "This way, sir," and as the stranger +made no move to follow him, he leaned forward and lifted the latter's top +coat from his arm. "Let me carry this 'ere for you, gov'ner," then in a +whisper that none could overhear, he said in German: "For your life, +follow me." + +"Go on," directed the stranger in English, pausing to adjust his cravat, +and made his leisurely way after the hurrying porter. The latter stopped +finally by the side of a somewhat battered-looking limousine. + +"'Ere ye are, sir," announced the porter, not waiting for the +chauffeur to pull open the door. "I most amissed ye," he rattled on. +"Kotched the keb, sir, an' tucked yer boxes inside, then I looked for +ye at the bookin' office, 'cording to directions. Let me tuck this +'ere laprobe over ye." + +As the stranger stepped into the limousine and seated himself the porter +clambered in after him. + +"They're on," he whispered, his freckles showing plainly against his +white face. "The chauffeur is one of us, he'll take you straight to our +landing. This packet's for you. Good luck!" And pocketing the sovereign +offered, the porter, voicing loud thanks, backed from the limousine and +slammed the door shut. + +The outskirts of London were reached before the man in the limousine +opened the slip of paper thrust into his hand by the porter. It was +wrapped about a small electric torch and a book of cigarette papers. +Slowly he read the German script in the note. + +Be at the rendezvous by Thursday. Hans, the chauffeur, has full +directions. Do not miss the seventeenth. + +After rereading the contents of the note the man tore it into tiny bits +and, not content with that, stuffed them among the tobacco in his pipe. +Striking a match he lighted his pipe and planting his feet on the bag he +gazed long and earnestly at his initials stamped on the much labeled +buckskin. The slowing up of the limousine aroused him from his +meditations, and he glanced out of the window to see which way they were +headed. London, the metropolis of the civilized world, lay behind him. +Catching his chauffeur's backward glance, he signaled him to continue +onward as, removing his pipe, he muttered: + +"_Gott strafe England_!" + + + + +CHAPTER II + +OUT OF THE VOID + + +Slowly, the sullen roar of artillery, the rattle of Maxims and rifles +sank fitfully away. A tall raw-boned major of artillery stretched his +cramped limbs in the observation station, paused to look with callous +eyes over the devastated fields before him, then sought the trench. +Earlier in the day the Allies had been shelled out of an advance position +by the enemy and had fallen back on the entrenchments. + +"Devilish hot stuff, shrapnel," commented a brother officer as Major +Seymour stopped at his side. + +The Major nodded absently, and without further reply advanced a few paces +to meet an ammunition corporal who was obviously seeking him. "Well?" he +demanded, as the non-commissioned officer saluted. + +"Only twenty rounds left, Major." The Corporal lowered his voice. +"Captain Hargraves sent word to rush reinforcements here as soon as it is +dark, sir." + +Major Seymour glanced with unconcealed impatience at his wrist watch. +God! Would night never come! + +"Can't we get our wounded to the base hospital, Major?" asked a +younger officer. He had only joined the unit thirty-six hours before +and while he had faced the baptism of fire gallantly, the ghastly +carnage about him shook his nerve. He was not fed up with horrors as +were his brother officers. + +"The wounded would stand small chance of reaching safety if the German +gunners sighted them. They must wait for darkness," replied Seymour. +"Here, take a pull at my flask. Got potted yourself, didn't you?" +noticing a thin stream of blood trickling down his companion's sleeve. + +"Only a flesh wound--of no moment," protested the young man, flushing at +the thought that his commanding officer might have misunderstood his +question. "I'm afraid Captain Hargraves is in a bad way." + +"Hargraves!" The Major spun on his heel. "Where is he?" + +"This way, sir," and the Lieutenant led him past groups of men and +officers. It was an appalling scene of desolation. The approach of night +had brought a slight drizzling rain, and the ground, pitted with shell +holes, was slimy with wet, greasy mud. Nearly all the trees in the +vicinity were blasted as if by lightning, and along the right hand side +of the road was a line of A.S.S. carts and limbers blown to pieces. One +horse, completely disemboweled, lay on his back, the inside arch of his +ribs plainly showing. His leader was a mass of entrails lying about, and +on the other side lay four or five more, one with a foreleg blown clear +off at the shoulder, one minus a head. A half-dozen motor cycles and over +a dozen push bikes lay in the mud with some unrecognizable shapes that +had been riding them. Between the advance trenches, in No Man's Land, the +ground was thickly strewn with corpses of Scotties killed in the charge. + +"The Huns had us cold as to range," volunteered the Lieutenant, loss +of blood and reaction from excitement loosening his tongue. "They +outed five guns complete with detachments by direct hits. Here we are, +sir," and he paused near a demolished gun emplacement. The ground +about was a shambles. + +Major Seymour stepped up to one of the figures lying upon the ground, +a mud-incrusted coat thrown over his legs. Several privates who had +been rendering what assistance they could, moved aside on the +approach of their superior officers. Hargraves opened his eyes as +Seymour knelt by him. + +"My number's up," he whispered, and the game smile which twisted his +white lips was pitiful. + +"Nonsense." Seymour's gruff tone concealed emotion. Hargraves' face +betrayed death's indelible sign. "You'll pull through, once you're back +at the hospital." + +Hargraves shook his head; he realized the futility of argument. + +"Have you pencil and paper?" he asked. + +"Yes." Seymour drew out his despatch book and removed a page. "What is +it, John?" But some minutes passed before his question received an +answer, and Hargraves' voice was noticeably weaker, as he dictated: + +DEAR KATHLEEN: + +I saw Karl in London at Victoria Station. I swear it was he ... warn +Uncle ... Kathleen ... Kathleen ... + +There was a long silence; then Seymour laid aside the unneeded brandy +flask and slowly rose to his feet. He mechanically folded the scrap of +paper, but before slipping it inside his pocket, the blank side arrested +his attention. + +"Heavens! John never gave me her address or last name. Who is Kathleen?" +he exclaimed. + +More shaken than he was willing to confess even to himself, by the loss +of his pal, he stared bitterly across the battlefield toward the enemy's +lines. How cheerily Hargraves had greeted him that morning on his return +from a week's furlough in England! How glad he had been to rejoin the +unit and be once again with his comrades on the firing line! A gallant +spirit had passed to the Great Beyond. + +Back in his observation station Major Seymour an hour later viewed the +gathering darkness with satisfaction. Two hours more and it would be +difficult to see a hand before one's face. Undoubtedly the sorely needed +ammunition and reserves would reach the trenches in time, and the wounded +could be safely transferred to the base hospital. The Allies' line had +held, and in spite of their desperate assaults the Germans had been +unable to find a vulnerable spot. + +Seymour passed his hand over his eyes. Against the darkness his fevered +imagination pictured advancing "gray phantoms." "They come like demons +from the hell they have created," he muttered. "I hope to God they +don't use 'starlights' over our trenches tonight. Flesh and blood can +stand no more." + +The darkness grew denser and more dense. In the long battle front of the +Allies no sentinel saw a powerful Aviatik biplane glide over the trenches +and fly onward toward its goal. Several times the airman inspected his +phosphorescent compass and map, each time thereafter altering his course. +Finally, making a sign to his observer, he planed to a lower level and, +satisfied that he had reached the proper distance, a bomb was released. + +Down through the black void the infernal machine sped. A sickening +pause--then a deafening detonation, followed by another and another, cut +the stillness, and the earth beneath was aflame with light as the high +explosives and shells stored in the concealed ammunition depot were set +off. Nothing escaped destruction; flesh and blood, mortar and brick went +skyward together, and a great gash in the earth was all that was left to +tell the story of the enemy's successful raid. + +From a safe height the German airman and his observer watched their +handiwork. Suddenly the latter caught sight of an aeroplane winging its +way toward them. + +"Bauerschreck!" he shouted, and the airman followed his pointed finger. +Instantly under his skillful manipulation their biplane climbed into the +air in long graceful spirals until they were six thousand feet above +ground. But as fast as they went, their heavier Aviatik was no match in +speed for the swift French aeroplane, and the bullets from the latter's +machine gun were soon uncomfortably near. + +The German airman's face was set in grim lines as he maneuvered his +biplane close to his pursuer and, dodging and twisting in sharp dips and +curves, spoiled the aim of the Frenchman at the machine gun, while his +own revolver and that of his observer kept up a continuous fusillade. + +For twenty minutes the unequal fight continued. It could not last much +longer. Despair pulled at the German's heartstrings as he saw his +observer topple for a moment in his seat, then pitch forward into space. +The biplane tipped dangerously, righted itself and sped like a homing +pigeon in the direction of the German lines. There was nothing left but +to fly for it. The German dared not look behind; only by the mercy of God +were the Frenchman's shots going wild. It could not last; he must get the +range. Surely, surely they were past the last of the Allies' trenches? + +The German turned and fired his revolver desperately at his pursuers. +Glory to God! one of his bullets punctured the latter's gasoline tank. It +must be so--the French aeroplane was apparently making a forced landing. +The shout on the German's lips was checked by a stinging sensation in his +right side. The Frenchman had his range at last. + +Almost simultaneously his machine turned completely over. With groping, +desperate fingers the German strove to gain control over the levels and +right himself. In vain--and as he started in the downward rush, the +hurrying wind carried the frenzied whisper: + +"The cross, dear God, the cross!" + + + + +CHAPTER III + +POWERS THAT PREY + + +Not far as the crow flies from the scene of the German airman's +catastrophe, but with its presence hidden from general knowledge, was +the Grosses Hauptquartier, the pulsing heart and brain of the Imperial +fighting forces. Vigilant sentries patrolled the park leading from the +chateau commandeered for the use of the War Lord and his entourage, to +the quarters of the Great General Staff. In a secluded room of the +latter building a dozen men sat in conference about a table littered +with papers; they had been there since early evening, but no man +permitted his glance to stray to the dial of a library clock whose hands +were gradually approaching two o'clock. Truly, the chiefs of the +divisions were tireless toilers. + +The Herr Chief of the Great General Staff was emphasizing his remarks +with vigor unusual even for him, when the telephone, no respecter of +persons, sent out its tinkling call. Hitching his chair closer to the +table, the Herr Chief of the Aviation Corps removed the receiver from +the instrument. A courteous silence prevailed as he took the message. +Replacing the receiver, he turned and confronted his confreres. + +"An outpost reports," he began formally, "that Captain von Eltz in his +Aviatik biplane was pursued and wrecked by a French airman who was +obliged to make a forced landing inside our lines. The French airmen were +shot in their attempt to escape. Owing to the Aviatik biplane catching in +the branches of a tree and thereby breaking his fall Captain von Eltz was +rescued alive, although desperately wounded. The observer who accompanied +him is dead. On regaining consciousness Captain von Eltz reported that +his mission was successful, the new ammunition depot having been +completely destroyed by his bomb." + +A low hum of approval greeted his words. "Well done, gallant von Eltz!" +exclaimed one of the hearers. "He deserves the Iron Cross." + +"He will receive it," declared another officer enthusiastically. + +"The information as to the location of this new ammunition depot, which +von Eltz has just destroyed, came from the man of whom I have been +telling you tonight," broke in the Herr Chief of the Secret Service. "He +has been our eyes and ears in England. Gentlemen, is it your wish that he +be intrusted with the delicate mission of which we have just been +speaking?" + +The eyes of the Herr Chief of the Great General Staff swept his +companions. "Is it that I speak for all?" A quick affirmative answered +him. "Then, we leave the matter entirely in your hands." The Herr Chief +of the Secret Service bowed. "You know your agents; the selection is left +to you, but see there is no unnecessary delay." + +"There will be no delay," responded the Herr Chief of the Secret Service. +"My agent is not far from here. With your permission, I take my leave," +and saluting he hastened from the room. + +The sun was halfway in the heavens when a limousine drew up before a +wayside inn near a semi-demolished city. Before the orderly sitting by +the chauffeur could swing himself to the ground, a tall man had stepped +to the side of the car and opened the door. For a second the Herr Chief +of the Secret Service and the stranger contemplated each other without +speaking, then the former motioned to the vacant seat by his side. + +"We can talk as we ride," he announced brusquely. "Your luggage--" + +"Is here," thrusting a much labeled suitcase inside the limousine and +jumping in after it. + +At a low-toned word from the Herr Chief of the Secret Service the orderly +saluted and quickly resumed his seat by the chauffeur. There was a short +silence inside the limousine as the powerful car continued up the road. +They were stopped at the first railroad crossing by a trainload of +wounded soldiers. + +"Your pardon," and before the Herr Chief of the Secret Service could stop +him, the stranger pulled down the sash curtains of all the windows. "You +are well known; being recognized is the penalty of greatness. It is to my +interest to escape such a distinction." + +"I approve your caution, Herr Captain," observed the older man. "Will you +smoke?" producing his cigarette case, and as the other smilingly helped +himself and accepted a lighted match, he surveyed him critically. Paying +no attention to his chief's scrutiny, the Secret Service agent +contemplated the luxurious appointments of the limousine with +satisfaction and puffed contentedly at his cigarette. His air of breeding +was unmistakable, but the devil-may-care sparkle in his gray-blue eyes +redeemed an otherwise expressionless face from being considered heavy. +The spirits of the Herr Chief of the Secret Service rose. His +recollection and judgment was still good; his agent, by men and women, +would be deemed extremely handsome. + +"The new ammunition depot was destroyed last night by our airmen," he +said, with some abruptness. "Your information was reliable." + +"Pardon, is not my information always reliable?" interpolated the Secret +Service agent. + +"So it has proved," acknowledged his chief cordially, but a mark was +mentally registered against the Herr Captain. German bureaucracy does not +tolerate presumption from a subordinate. "And owing to your excellent +record, you have been selected for a most delicate mission." + +"Under the same conditions?" + +"The Imperial Government cannot be questioned," retorted his chief, his +anger rising. + +"I am different from other operatives." A puff of cigarette smoke +wreathed upward from the speaker's lips. "A free-lance." + +"And you have been given a free hand. We have not inquired into your +methods of procuring information, being content with the result." + +"And does not the result justify not only your confidence but promotion?" + +The Herr Chief of the Secret Service considered before replying; then he +answered with a question. + +"Have you been to Ireland?" + +The Secret Service agent smiled grimly as he took from his pocket a book +of cigarette papers. Counting them over, he selected the seventeenth +paper, and passed it to his companion, who examined the small blank sheet +with interest. "Just a moment," and the young man again slipped his hand +into a vest pocket, this time bringing out a nickel flashlight. Pressing +his thumb on the switch he held the glass bulb against the rice paper. In +a few minutes a faint tracing appeared on the blank page, which grew +brighter as the rays of light generated more heat. + +"Hold it a moment," said the Herr Chief of the Secret Service. "Keep it +over the bulb," and taking out his notebook he made several entries, then +closed it with a snap. + +"Finished?" As he asked the question, the Secret Service agent replaced +his pocket flashlight, drew out his tobacco pouch, poured a little in the +rice paper, and proceeded to roll the cigarette with practiced fingers. + +"About Sheerness?" questioned the Herr Chief of the Secret Service. + +"All is arranged." + +"Good." The Herr Chief of the Secret Service permitted himself to settle +back more comfortably on the roomy seat so that he faced his companion. +In the closed and semi-darkened limousine there was no danger of their +conversation being overheard. + +"I reserved for myself, Herr Captain," said the Herr Chief slowly, "the +pleasure of informing you that your valuable services to the Kaiser and +the Fatherland"--the Secret Service agent raised his hat--"are +recognized. The Cross may yet be yours." + +"How can I express my gratitude?" stammered the Secret Service agent. + +"By not jumping to hasty conclusions," smiled his chief. "Never again +question your orders." + +"Be just," protested the Secret Service agent warmly. "I have risked my +life daily for the Kaiser and the Fatherland in a hostile country. There +have been hours which I do not care to remember." The speaker's tone grew +husky. "Some day--a short shift; and I must make provision for another." + +"I understood you were not married?" + +There was a barely perceptible pause. "Spies do not marry, sir." + +"And if a Secret Service agent has a healthy regard for his own safety, +he is careful of serious entanglements," cautioned his chief. "However, +judging by your past work, I believe you are quite able to take care of +yourself. Thanks to the warnings and information of your organization we +have been able to meet some of the Allies' contemplated concerted +attacks, and your information as to the sailing of transports and the +movements of ammunition trains has been of inestimable service." + +"Do you still wish me to keep up this particular work?" + +"No." The Herr Chief of the Secret Service leaned forward in his +earnestness. "This war has demonstrated again and again that victory goes +with the heaviest artillery." + +"True! Antwerp, one of the strongest fortified cities on the Continent, +crumpled up before our siege guns," broke in his companion. + +The older man paid no attention to the interruption, but continued +gravely: "Hand to hand conflict and cavalry charges are a thing of the +past. We shell out the enemies' trenches from batteries six to twelve +miles away. All this you already know; I repeat it now to explain what I +am about to say. We are in possession of the mining district of France, +they are getting hard pushed for ammunition; England's supply is not +inexhaustible; Russia cannot half arm her fighting forces. They one and +all are appealing to the manufacturing capitalists of the United States +to furnish them with arms and ammunition." + +"And with success," dryly. + +The Herr Chief of the Secret Police frowned. "It must be stopped. You are +to go to America--" + +"I?" + +"Yes, at once. You have a genius for organization; your work in England +proved that. Let us know what merchant vessels and passenger steamers are +carrying munitions of war. Be sure, doubly sure, that your information is +correct, for we shall act upon it. Our Government stands ready to take +most drastic measures to stop such traffic." + +"I see." The Secret Service agent stroked his clean-shaven chin in +meditative silence. "In England I went hand in hand with death; in the +United States I am likely to outlive my usefulness." + +"Perhaps," with dry significance. "But recollect our Government is ready +to adopt _any_ expedient to stop the exporting of arms and ammunition to +our enemies." + +"As for instance--?" + +"Leave our methods to us; you have your work. You will make your +headquarters at Washington City. There you will be able to place your +hand on the pulse of the nation, and there you will find--idle women." + +"Have we not already representatives at the United States capital?" + +The Herr Chief of the Secret Service eyed him keenly. "Our embassy is +concerned only with the diplomatic world. You are to send us word whether +the United States Government arsenals are working under a full complement +of men; of the orders placed by the Navy Department for submarines, and +the activities obtaining in private munition plants. Be certain and study +the undercurrent of sentiment for or against us. Report as you have +heretofore." + +"How am I to get in touch with the private shipyards and munition +plants?" + +"I will give you letters to residents loyal to their Fatherland. A number +of the owners of powder companies and munition plants usually winter in +Washington. I am also told that Mexican juntas still make Washington +their headquarters." The eyes of the Secret Service agent were boring +into him, but the older man's countenance remained a mask. "You must bear +in mind that if the American capitalists persist in selling assistance to +our enemies the attention of the United States must be diverted to other +issues...." + +"Such a plan could only be carried out by creating a necessity of +home consumption for war munitions," supplemented the Secret Service +agent softly. + +Without replying the Herr Chief of the Secret Service pulled forward a +small despatch-box from a cleverly concealed pocket in the upholstery of +the limousine. + +"We are motoring to your nearest destination," he said soberly, +opening the box. "Here are your letters of credit, your passport, and +introductions to our friends across the water," handing him a leather +wallet. "They will see that you are properly introduced to Washington +hostesses. Go out in society; I am told it is most delightful at the +Capital. Make friends with influential public men and prominent +Washingtonians. Above all," with emphasis, "cultivate the gentler +sex; remember, idle women make excellent pawns, my dear Herr Captain +von Mueller." + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +"SHOULD AULD ACQUAINTANCE BE FORGOT?" + + +Mrs. Winslow Whitney, gathering her wraps together, stepped from the +limousine. + +"I shall not need you again tonight, Henry," she said, as the chauffeur +sprang to the sidewalk to assist her. + +"Very good, ma'am," and touching his cap respectfully, he took from the +limousine the heavy fur laprobe and hastened to ring the doorbell for +his mistress. + +Halfway to her front door Mrs. Whitney paused to scan the outward +appearance of her home. The large, Colonial, brick double house, with +lights partly showing behind handsomely curtained windows, looked the +embodiment of comfort, but Mrs. Whitney heaved a sharp sigh of +discontent. The surroundings were not pleasing to her. Again and again +she had pleaded with her husband to give up the old house and move into a +more fashionable neighborhood. But with the tenacity which easy-going men +sometimes exhibit, Winslow Whitney clung to the home of his ancestors. It +had descended from father to son for generations, and finally to him, the +last of the direct male line. Although business had encroached and noisy +electric cars passed his door, and even government buildings dwarfed the +impressive size of the old mansion, he declined to give up his home, +stating that he had been born there and there he would die. + +"Very well, you and Providence can settle the point between you, Dad," +answered Kathleen, his only child, who had been brought in to use her +persuasive powers upon her irate parent. "But as long as mother and I +have to inhabit this old shell you must, simply must, put new works +inside her." + +And Whitney, with the generosity which marked his every action to those +he loved, rehabilitated and remodeled the mansion until it finally +rivaled in up-to-date completeness the more ornate homes of the newly +rich in the fashionable Northwest. + +"Has Miss Kathleen returned?" asked Mrs. Whitney, handing her wraps to +the breathless Vincent, who had hurried to answer the chauffeur's +imperious ring. + +"No, ma'am." + +"When she does return, tell her that I wish to see her." + +"Yes, ma'am." + +"Is Mr. Whitney in his studio?" + +"Yes, ma'am. Shall I send Julie to you?" + +"Tell her to go to my room and wait for me." As she spoke Mrs. Whitney +crossed the broad hall and, passing the Colonial staircase, entered the +elevator. The automatic car carried her to the first bedroom floor but, +changing her mind, she did not open the door; instead she pressed the +electric button marked "Attic." Her slight feeling of irritation aroused +by not being met downstairs by any member of her family was increased by +stepping from the elevator into a dark hall. + +"Winslow!" she called. Meeting with no response she walked over to the +opposite wall and by the aid of the light in the elevator found the +electric switch and turned it on. Not pausing to look about her, she went +to the back of the large high-roofed attic and tried the handle of a +closed door. Finding that it would not open to her touch, she rapped +sharply on the panel. She waited several seconds before she heard a chair +pushed back and the sound of advancing footsteps. The inside bolt was +shot back with distinct force. + +"Well, what is it?" demanded Whitney, jerking open the door. "Oh, my +dear," his tone changing at sight of his wife, "I had no idea you were +returning so soon." + +"Do you call half-past six o'clock soon?" asked Mrs. Whitney following +him into the room. "Winslow, Winslow, I warn you not to become too +absorbed in your work." + +Whitney laughed somewhat ruefully. "Does the kettle call the pot black? +What do you do but give up your time to the Sisters in Unity? I'm a +secondary consideration. There, there," noting his wife's expression. +"Don't let us dispute over trifles. I'm making headway, Minna--headway." + +"I congratulate you, dear." Mrs. Whitney laid a caressing hand on his +touseled gray hair. "I never doubted that you would. But, Winslow, such +complete absorption in your work is not healthy. The doctor has warned +you not to shut yourself up in this room for hours, and particularly that +you are not to lock your door on the inside. Remember your recent attacks +of vertigo." + +"McLane's an ass. The vertigo sprang from indigestion; hereafter, I'll be +more careful what I eat," he protested. "There's nothing the matter with +this room; it's well ventilated and heated. And I will lock my door--I +won't be interrupted by any jackass servant wanting to feed me +pap"--pointing scornfully toward the hall where a tray laden with a +teapot and tempting dishes stood on a table near the door. "Do you not +yet realize, Minna, that this is my life work?" With a sweeping gesture +he indicated the models, brass, wood, and wax, which filled every cranny +of the sparsely furnished room. + +Mrs. Whitney sighed. The room was her bugbear. She had dignified it with +the name of "studio," but it looked what it was--a workshop. Winslow +Whitney, considered in clubdom as a dilettante and known to scientists as +an inventor of ability, frowned impatiently as he observed his wife's air +of disapprobation. + +"My dear, we must agree to disagree," he said, lowering his voice. "My +brain is carrying too much just now; I cannot be confused by side issues. +Everything must wait until my invention is completed." + +"Is your daughter's welfare of secondary importance?" + +"What?" Whitney surveyed his wife in startled surprise, and her handsome +face flushed under his scrutiny. "What is the matter with Kathleen's +welfare? Do I illtreat her? Is she refused money? Do I make her spend +hours here helping me in this"--sarcastically--"sweatshop? Four years ago +she took up this fad of painting; you encouraged her at it--you know you +did," shaking an accusing finger at his wife. "You persuaded me to let +her study in Germany, and she hasn't been worth a button since--as far +as home comfort goes." + +"Winslow!" + +"It's true," doggedly. "Formerly she was willing and glad to help me with +my modeling, help me in making calculations, tracings--now she spends her +time philandering." + +"All young girls flirt, Winslow." + +"But Kathleen was always so shy," Whitney shook his head. "Now I'm asked +at the club if she isn't engaged to this man and that." + +"Will you never realize that Kathleen is exceptionally pretty, with the +gift of fascination?" + +"A dangerous power," said Whitney gravely. "I do not entirely approve of +the men whose attentions Kathleen encourages." + +"As for instance...." + +"Young Potter, and this Baron Frederic von Fincke--you know, Minna, I do +not approve of international marriages, and I am very glad that Kathleen +refused that Englishman, John Hargraves, whom she met in Germany...." + +"I sometimes wonder if she regrets," said Mrs. Whitney musingly. +"Kathleen hears from him occasionally--and at times she is so very odd in +her manner." + +"Humph! I hope not. I don't want her to be a war bride," retorted +Whitney. "And all Englishmen of family are at the front these days. You +don't think, Minna," with quickly suppressed nervousness, "that Kathleen +can be fond of Sinclair Spencer." + +"Sinclair Spencer?" echoed Mrs. Whitney. "Why he is double her age, and +besides, Winslow, his habits are not...." + +"I know," gloomily, as his wife paused. "I would certainly never give my +consent to such a marriage. But, Minna, he is forever hanging around +Kathleen and haunts this house." + +"So much so that Kathleen is heartily sick of him," said Mrs. Whitney +comfortingly. "She is not the girl to really care for a man of his +caliber. After all, Winslow," unable to restrain the dig, "you are +responsible for Sinclair Spencer's intimate footing in this house...." + +"Intimate footing? Nothing of the sort. Just because I employed him as my +patent attorney, you and Kathleen did not have to throw yourselves at +his head and have him sitting in your pockets." + +Mrs. Whitney laughed outright. "My dear Winslow, neither Kathleen nor I +encouraged him to come here. If you are afraid," her eyes twinkling, +"that Kathleen considers his attentions seriously, I will sound her on +the subject. And this brings me back to what I was going to say +originally; you must inquire about the men Kathleen meets. She is at the +impressionable age and as apt as not to pick up an undesirable _parti_." + +"Why didn't Kathleen remain a schoolgirl?" fumed Whitney. "Then we only +had to engage competent nurses and look up their references and our +responsibility ended." + +"Your responsibility is just beginning," said Mrs. Whitney cheerfully. +"By the way, the days are short, and Kathleen should be at home by five +o'clock at least; this is a rough neighborhood for a beautiful girl to +walk through unattended." + +"My forefathers found no fault with this neighborhood," replied Whitney +stiffly. "Then it was fashionable, now it is a good respectable business +section; and if dividends continue to dwindle you may thank your stars we +are in a business section--for convenience' sake. I will not give up this +house, Minna, even to please you." + +"Dear Winslow, don't excite yourself." Mrs. Whitney laid an affectionate +hand on his arm. "Remember Dr. McLane's advice ... and dinner will be +served in an hour. Please come down and get it while it is hot," and not +waiting to hear his halfhearted promise she walked from the room and +closed the door. It was some seconds before Whitney resumed his +interrupted work. + +"Only a little while now," he muttered--"only a little while." + +Before proceeding to her bedroom Mrs. Whitney sought the suite of rooms +which had been given to Kathleen on her coming of age two months before. +Finding the prettily decorated and furnished sitting-room empty she +walked into the adjoining bedroom and saw Kathleen sitting at her +dressing table. + +"What detained you?" she asked kindly, as the girl turned on her +entrance. + +"The symphony concert was not over until twenty-five minutes ago. Won't +you sit down, dear?" pulling forward a chair. "I must go on with my +dressing. My pink satin, Julie, thank you," as the French maid appeared. + +"Are you dining out tonight?" in surprise. "I thought you told me you had +no engagement for this evening." + +"I hadn't, mother. This invitation was quite unexpected," explained +Kathleen, arranging her hair with care. "On my return from the concert I +found this note from Miss Kiametia Grey asking me to fill a place and +prevent thirteen at her dinner tonight." + +"I see." Mrs. Whitney inspected the dainty note-paper and forceful +handwriting through her gold lorgnette. The word of Miss Kiametia Grey +was as the law of the Medes and Persians to her many friends, and Mrs. +Whitney had a high regard for the wealthy spinster who cloaked her +warm-hearted impulsiveness under an erratic and often brusque manner. +"You cannot very well refuse. Who sent you those orchids?" pointing to a +handsome bouquet lying half out of its box on the bed. + +"Sinclair Spencer," briefly. "Be careful, Julie, don't muss my hair," +and discussing unimportant matters Kathleen hurried her dressing as much +as possible. + +"Not knowing you were going out I told Henry he would not be needed +tonight," said Mrs. Whitney, suddenly waking up to the fact that Kathleen +was ready to go. "You had better order a herdic." + +"Oh!" Kathleen gazed at her blankly. "And the dinner is at the Chevy +Chase Club." + +"Pardon, madame," Julie, the maid, spoke in rapid French. "Mademoiselle +Grey telephoned to ask if mademoiselle had returned and said that she +hoped she could dine with her. Knowing madame had no engagement this +evening, I took the great liberty of telling Henry to be here with the +limousine." + +"Quite right, Julie," Mrs. Whitney rose. "Don't forget your orchids, +Kathleen." + +"I am not going to wear them; they"--not meeting Mrs. Whitney's +eyes--"they would stain my dress. Good night, mother. I am likely to be +late; don't either you or Dad wait up for me." + +An hour later, her naturally rosy cheeks a deeper tint from the +consciousness that she was late, Kathleen made a charming picture as she +stood just within the entrance to the assembly room of the Chevy Chase +Club, waiting to greet her hostess who was at that moment marshalling her +guests out to the private dining-room. It was several minutes before Miss +Kiametia Grey discovered Kathleen's presence. + +"So very glad you could come," she said, squeezing her hand warmly. "Not +only did I want to be helped over the thirteen bugaboo, but I have such a +nice dinner partner for you. Captain Miller. Yes, Judge, you are to take +me out. Kathleen, introduce yourself to the Captain." + +"Am I to find him by the process of elimination?" laughed Kathleen, as +Miss Kiametia laid her hand on the Judge's arm. + +"He is just back of you," she called, and Kathleen turned around. Every +vestige of color left her cheeks as she encountered the steadfast gaze of +a tall, broad-shouldered man in immaculate evening dress. + +"You?" she blurted out, her white lips barely forming the word. "_You_?" + +There was an agonizing pause, then Captain Miller stepped toward her. + +"Suppose we go out to dinner," he suggested suavely. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +AN EVENTFUL EVENING + + +While keeping up an animated conversation with Judge Powers, Miss +Kiametia Grey saw with inward perturbation that her vis-a-vis, Captain +Miller, was spending much of his time between courses making bread +pellets. What possessed Kathleen Whitney? She was usually the soul of +courtesy, and yet her hostess had not seen her address one word to her +dinner partner. Possibly Kathleen had taken offense at her off-hand +introduction to the handsome officer. But that was not like the +warmhearted, charming girl she had come to love and admire, and Miss +Kiametia ate her dinner with less and less relish as she tried to keep +up her end of the conversation and forget about the pair seated +opposite her. + +Captain Charles Miller had just finished helping himself to an ice when, +from the tail of his eye, he saw Kathleen quickly palm his place card. + +"Let us make it an exchange," he said, and reaching across her plate, +picked up the pretty hand-painted Japanese card bearing her name, and +slipped it inside the pocket of his white vest. + +For the first time that evening there was color in Kathleen's cheeks. + +"You have not lost your--" + +"Courage?" + +"Effrontery," she finished. "I cannot see that the years have brought +much change." + +"To you, most certainly not," and there was no mistaking the admiration +in his eyes. + +"I object to personalities." She paused. "And particularly on slight +acquaintance." + +Miller bowed. "It is my loss that we have not met before," and he did not +miss the look of relief that lighted her eyes for the fraction of a +second. Swiftly he changed the subject. "Who is the man glaring at us +from the end of the table?" + +"Baron Frederic von Fincke." Her manner was barely civil and that was +all. Under his heavy eyebrows Miller's eyes snapped. She should talk to +him, and he squared his broad shoulders. + +"I have already met the young girl sitting next him," he said, "and who +is her dinner partner?" + +"Captain Edwin Sayre, United States Army." + +"Of what branch of the service?" + +"Ordnance." + +"Is it true, Miss Kathleen," broke in the man seated on her right, "that +Captain Sayre has resigned from the army to take a position in the Du +Pont Powder Works?" + +"I believe so." + +"Is that not establishing a bad precedent, Mr. Spencer?" inquired Miller. +He had met the lawyer on his arrival before dinner. "Suppose other +officers follow his example, what will the army do in case of hostilities +with--eh--Mexico?" + +"Probably the officers will apply for active service." Sinclair Spencer, +glad of the pretext that talking to Miller gave him of bending nearer +Kathleen, turned his back on his dinner partner. That Kathleen had given +him her full attention throughout the dinner had partly compensated for +the fact that she was not wearing his orchids. It had been weeks since he +had enjoyed so uninterrupted a talk with her. That her manner was +distrait and her replies somewhat haphazard escaped him utterly. The +drive to Chevy Chase was both long and cold, and while waiting for Miss +Kiametia's other guests to assemble before he presented himself, he had +enjoyed more than one cocktail. That stimulant, combined with Miss +Kiametia's excellent champagne, had dulled his perceptions. "The officers +will be given their old rank," continued Spencer. "In the meantime they +will have gained most valuable experience." + +"There is really no prospect now of a war with Mexico." As she spoke +Kathleen looked anxiously across at Miss Kiametia, but her hostess showed +no disposition to give the signal for rising. Kathleen was aware by his +thick speech and flushed features that Spencer had taken more wine than +was good for him. She desired to ignore Captain Miller, but she was +equally desirous not to encourage Spencer's attentions. She moved her +chair back as far as she could from the table to avoid the latter's near +presence as he bent toward her. Deliberately she turned and continued her +remarks to Miller. "As soon as a fair election is held and a president +elected, he will be recognized by our Government." + +Miller laughed. "A fair election and Mexico are a contradiction of terms. +Trouble there is by no means over. I hope that you are not a +peace-at-any-price American?" + +"Indeed I am not," and Kathleen's eyes sparkled. "I am for peace +with a punch." + +Again Spencer cut into the conversation, but his condition was so +apparent that Kathleen shrank from him. "Miss Kathleen, give me firs' +dance," he demanded, as Miss Kiametia laid aside her napkin and pushed +back her chair. + +In a second Baron Frederic von Fincke was by her side, and with a sigh of +thankfulness Kathleen accepted his eager demand for a dance, and they +hastened into the assembly room, which, stripped of its furniture, was +already filled with dancers. It was the regular Wednesday night dance at +the club and the room was crowded. Kathleen had no difficulty in avoiding +Captain Miller. Since her debut she had reigned an acknowledged belle in +society, and she was quickly importuned by men eager for a dance. But as +she laughed and jested with her partners, she was conscious of lagging +time and numbing brain. Could she keep up the farce much longer? + +From one of the doorways Sinclair Spencer watched the gay scene with +surly discontent. An attempt to dance, while its result had no effect +upon his understanding, had caused his partner hastily to seek her +chaperon. His only ray of consolation was that she had not been Kathleen +Whitney. Come to think of it, she had never thanked him for his orchids. +The oversight worried him, and he was about to attempt to dodge the +dancers and cross the room in search of Kathleen when Baron von Fincke +stopped and addressed him. + +"She is very beautiful, your Miss Whitney," he said slowly. His English +was not fluent "But she has not the tact of her pretty mother. _She_ +would never have shown her avoidance of Captain Miller quite so plainly +as did Miss Whitney during dinner." + +"'Twasn't 'voidance," protested Spencer. "I cut him out." + +"Then why postpone your wooing?" The foreigner permitted no hint of his +secret amusement to creep into his voice as he glanced from Spencer to +where Kathleen was dancing. + +"Go-going to ask Kathleen tonight," replied Spencer, with drunken +dignity. "I'm no la-laggard. Speak to Whitney, too; though that isn't +important--he won't refuse." He cogitated darkly for a moment. "If he +does ... I'll make things hot for him...." + +"Hush!" Von Fincke laid a heavy hand on Spencer's shoulder as he looked +carefully about them; apparently no one was within earshot. "Collect your +wits. The time is not ripe for threats, Spencer. The invention is not yet +completed; until it is--no threats. We must not kill the goose before the +golden egg is laid." + +"Washn't makin' threats," stammered Spencer, startled by the angry gleam +in his companion's eyes. "Now, don't get mad, von Fincke, think of all +I've done in that Mex--" + +"Come this way," and with no gentle hand the foreigner propelled Spencer +down the hall out of sight of the guests and out of doors. + +Miss Kiametia Grey, enjoying watching the dancing as much as her guests +enjoyed participating in it, was interrupted in her desultory +conversation with two chaperons by one of the club attendants. Upon +receiving his message she made her way to where Kathleen and her partner +had just paused after a breathless extra. + +"Having a good time, dearie?" she questioned. "It is a shame to interrupt +your pleasure, but your father has telephoned that you must be at home by +midnight." + +"And your car waits, Cinderella," put in Spencer who, suddenly returning, +had overheard Miss Kiametia's remark. He had a particularly hard time +with the pronunciation of "Cinderella." + +The spinster favored him with a frown, and the back view of a sharp +shoulder blade. To her mid-Victorian mind Sinclair Spencer was not +conducting himself as a gentleman should, and her half-considered resolve +to drop him from her visiting list became adamantine as she observed his +appearance. Slipping her hand inside Kathleen's arm she led her to the +cloakroom. + +"Catch me asking fourteen to dinner again!" she exclaimed. "It always +dwindles to thirteen at the last moment, and I have a nervous chill until +the number is completed." + +"Whose place did I fill?" asked Kathleen, presenting her cloak check +to the maid. + +"Nobody's, to be quite candid," Miss Kiametia smiled ruefully. "My dinner +was originally twelve, but Captain Miller was so charming this afternoon +that I asked him on impulse, and then sent for you to pair off with him." + +"Thank you." The dryness of her tone was not lost on the spinster. There +were times when she wished to box Kathleen's ears. She was a born +matchmaker, and Kathleen's indifference to matrimonial opportunities was +a constant source of vexation to her. + +"Never saw two people look so ideally suited to each other," she snapped. +Kathleen started as if stung. "And I'm told mutual aversion is often a +good beginning for a romance. I never saw you discourteous before, +Kathleen; you simply ignored Captain Miller until dessert." + +"Possibly I had good reason." Kathleen's color rose. "Where, pray, did +you pick him up?" + +"Tut, tut! Don't forget you are talking to a woman nearly old enough to +be your mother." But Miss Kiametia's kind heart softened as she saw +Kathleen felt her words. "There, dearie, don't mind an old crosspatch. +Captain Miller was introduced to me by Senator Foster. You can see with +half an eye that Captain Miller is a gentleman born and bred. All ready? +Then I'll run back to my other guests. Come and see me Sunday," and with +a friendly wave of her hand, Miss Kiametia returned to the dining-room +where the dancers had adjourned for supper. + +Kathleen found her limousine waiting at the entrance, and bidding the +club attendant good-night she stepped inside the car, but as her +chauffeur started to close the door he was pushed to one side. + +"Fa-sher tele-telephoned I was to shee you home," announced Spencer, +striving to enunciate clearly. His haste and unsteady gait precipitated +him almost on top of the girl as he endeavored to seat himself by her +side. "D-don't get scared," placing a moist hand on her wrist. "Fa-sher's +orders. Ask H-Henry." + +The chauffeur touched his cap. "Mr. Whitney did telephone me to bring +Mr. Spencer back with you, Miss Kathleen," he volunteered, and +without waiting for further orders he banged to the door and climbed +into his seat. + +With an indignant exclamation Kathleen leaned over, seized the +speaking-tube and whistled through it. But apparently the roar of the +open throttle drowned the whistle, for Henry did not pick up his end of +the tube. As the car started down the drive a man jumped to the +running-board, jerked open the car door, and without ceremony pushed +Spencer into a corner and seated himself between the latter and Kathleen. + +"Hope I didn't keep you waiting, Miss Whitney," he apologized. "Sorry to +have been late." + +Kathleen shrank back. She did not need the light from the lamp at the +entrance of the club grounds to tell her the intruder was Captain Miller. +She was too well acquainted with his voice. A voice she had hoped never +to hear again. + +Spencer, considerably shaken by the force Miller had used in thrusting +him back against the side of the car, muttered a string of curses, which +ended abruptly as Miller's elbow came in sharp contact with his ribs. + +Too bewildered for speech, Kathleen rested her head against the +upholstered back of the limousine. Neither of the men seemed inclined to +break the silence as the car sped swiftly toward Washington, and +gradually Kathleen's reasoning power returned to her. She was furiously +angry with herself, with the world, with Fate. Ah, she _would_ be +mistress of her own fate. Kathleen compressed her lips in mute +determination. Captain Miller must be made to understand that she would +not tolerate his further acquaintance. How dared he thrust his presence +upon her? Kathleen's hot anger cooled for a second; if Miller had not +thrust himself into the limousine she would in all probability have +either had to order Henry forcibly to eject Spencer, which might have +given rise to unpleasant gossip, or have endured alone the intoxicated +man's society for the five-mile drive into town. + +High-power arc lights were strung along the roadway, and under their +white glare Kathleen stole a glance at Miller. Handsome still, she +admitted to herself, and the same broad-shouldered, athletic figure. He +was the type of man which appeals to both men and women. She caught her +breath sharply as bitter memories crowded upon her, and slipping down her +hand, drew her skirts surreptitiously away from touching Miller. If he +noted the movement he gave no sign. + +As the lights of Washington appeared, the chauffeur reduced the +limousine's speed to that required by law. They were in the heart of the +resident section when a snore from Spencer explained his long silence. +The warmth and motion of the limousine, combined with his overindulgence +in wine, had lulled him to sleep. With an effort Kathleen roused herself +from her dismal reflections. + +"Can I leave you anywhere, Captain--Miller?" she inquired frigidly. + +"No thanks, I will walk to my hotel after I have seen you safely home." + +Kathleen fumbled with the clasp of her evening wrap and stared down the +empty streets. She waited until they were approaching Lafayette Square, +then broke her silence for the second time. + +"I desire that you leave me here," she stated calmly. "I am now within a +few blocks of my home." Without waiting for comment she leaned forward, +tapped upon the front window, and signaled Henry to stop. + +Miller rose as the limousine drew up to the curb. "As you wish," he said +courteously. "But I do not think this man a suitable companion for you," +and collaring Spencer, he opened the door and, thrusting the still +sleeping man out on the pavement, sprang out after him. + +Henry's eyes bulged as he saw the two men, but Miller's manner stopped +the ejaculation upon his lips. + +"Take Miss Whitney home," directed Miller, and lifting his hat to +Kathleen he watched the limousine turn a corner and disappear. Then he +glanced down at Spencer sprawling on the pavement. A queer smile lighted +his face as he stared at the lawyer. + +"What's your little game, Spencer?" he asked softly, and a hearty kick +punctuated the question. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +AT THE CAPITOL + + +Mrs. Whitney's usually placid disposition was decidedly ruffled, and she +took no pains to conceal her displeasure. + +"Really, Kathleen, you are greatly at fault," she said, as the girl +joined her in the vestibule. "The idea of keeping Henry at the Club until +after midnight! No wonder he is late now. No chauffeur can work both day +and night." + +"I'm sorry, mother," but Kathleen did not look particularly penitent; she +considered that the faithful Henry had a soft berth. That he worked +occasionally would not prove harmful. She had hoped to avoid going to the +Capitol that morning, and when told that Henry had not appeared either at +the house for orders or at the garage, she had supposed the trip would be +given up. But Mrs. Whitney was of the persevering kind, and with her to +plan was to accomplish. Decidedly upset by Henry's non-appearance in her +well conducted household, she had ordered the garage to fill his place +temporarily, and her limousine was at last at the door. + +Mrs. Whitney was giving her final direction to the new chauffeur as to +which she considered the best and safest route to the Capitol and the +speed she wished maintained, when her husband joined them. + +"I've decided to take a morning off and go with you," he announced, +entering the limousine. "Room for me on the back seat?" + +"Surely," and his wife patted the wide cushion. "We do not possess a +superabundance of flesh in this family." + +"Except Dad," interpolated Kathleen mischievously. She knew her father +disliked the idea of getting fat, while lacking the initiative of keeping +thin. "What you need, Dad, is a cold plunge and a ten-mile walk before +breakfast." + +Whitney shuddered. "Nice comfortable ideas you have, Kathleen, for a +winter day. It strikes me you should take a dose of your own medicine." +Inspecting her keenly. "Late hours do not improve your appearance, +young lady." + +"Thanks," but her usually sunny smile was strained. "And I suppose you +still work all night, Dad, disobeying Dr. McLane's orders." + +"I don't take orders from McLane," shortly. "And I didn't work very late +last night. Your mother came up and tried some of her Sisters in Unity +persuasion upon me, and I capitulated." + +Mrs. Whitney did not take the jest in good part. While she reveled in +society, she was essentially a clubwoman, and nothing delighted her so +much as debating and delivering addresses. She was a capital +extemporaneous speaker, and had held prominent offices in different +clubs. Possessing no sense of humor, which her husband and Kathleen had +in abundance, she seriously objected to their poking fun at her beloved +organization, the Sisters in Unity, of which she was a charter member. +Any allusion to it in fun she considered an offense in good taste. +Therefore withdrawing into dignified silence she permitted Whitney and +Kathleen to keep up the conversation. In fact, Whitney did most of the +talking, and neither he nor his wife perceived Kathleen's inattention. + +"I'm on the high road to solving the last problem," he exulted. "The +invention is simple, so very simple, but, Minna, it will revolutionize +many things in warfare. You won't be ashamed of your old Dad, Kathleen, +when the world acknowledges what I've done." + +"I'm proud of you now, and always have been," affirmed Kathleen, and +leaning over she placed a spray of lilies-of-the-valley from her bouquet +in his buttonhole. + +"Who sent you the flowers, Kathleen?" inquired Mrs. Whitney. + +"I don't know; I could find no card or note with them." + +"Perhaps Sinclair Spencer has decided to send them anonymously." With a +look of repugnance, Kathleen pulled the flowers off and before her father +could interfere, opened the door and tossed the bouquet into the street. +"Good gracious, Kathleen, don't take everything that I say literally!" +exclaimed Mrs. Whitney. "I am sorry I suggested...." + +"I am not, mother. After last night, nothing would induce me to wear +his flowers again," declared Kathleen with spirit. "Father, what made +you tele--" + +"Here we are," broke in Whitney, apparently not hearing Kathleen's +remark, as the limousine drew up at the entrance to the Senate side of +the Capitol. "Jump out, Kathleen. Careful, Minna." But without assistance +Mrs. Whitney sprang lightly to the ground, a worried look on her face. + +"I do believe, Winslow," she said, "that I have left my admission card to +the private gallery at home. It isn't in my bag." + +"Don't mind, I'll look up Randall Foster; he'll see we get in. Come +this way." + +They found the corridors of the huge building filled with hurrying men +and women, and Whitney spent fully twenty minutes before he succeeded in +obtaining the coveted card to the private gallery from his friend, +Senator Foster. To Mrs. Whitney's dismay they found the gallery filled; +but fortune favored them, for just after their entrance three women +seated in the front row rose and made their way out. With a quickness +which showed her familiarity with conventions Mrs. Whitney pounced upon +the seats, and sank into hers with a sigh of thankfulness. She had +overcome a number of obstacles that morning to get there, and though it +was a small matter she hated to be thwarted in anything she undertook. + +Kathleen, like many another Washingtonian, confined her visits to the +Capitol to sightseeing trips with out-of-town friends, and she had come +there that morning only because she could think of no good reason for +staying away. To her inward surprise she soon found her attention +absorbed by the debate going on in the Senate, and when one of the +distinguished lawmakers commenced a characteristic speech she became +unconscious of the flight of time. As the Senator ended his fiery +peroration, she raised her head and, glancing toward the Diplomats' +Gallery, recognized Captain Charles Miller sitting in the front row +regarding her. + +"Have you seen Medusa's head?" asked Whitney, tugging at her elbow. "Wake +up, Kathleen, unless you've been turned into marble. Your mother's told +you three times that Senator Foster has invited us to lunch with him. She +is waiting for us in the corridor. Come along." + +As they joined Mrs. Whitney, a young man hurried up to them. "I am +Senator Foster's secretary," he explained. "The Senator has gone direct +to the dining-room on the ground floor. This way, please," and he piloted +them to an elevator. On reaching the private dining-room of the Senate +they found not only Foster but Miss Kiametia Grey awaiting them. + +"This is my lucky day," exclaimed Foster, heartily. "First, you tell me +your wife and Miss Kathleen are here, Whitney; then I meet Kiametia on +the way to the gallery." Mrs. Whitney smiled covertly. The Senator's +courtship of the wealthy spinster was one of the most discussed topics in +smart society. "Couldn't resist the temptation to have you all lunch with +me," added Foster. "Won't you sit here, Mrs. Whitney," pulling out a +chair on his right, "and Kiametia," indicating the chair on his left, +"and Whitney next to you. Miss Kathleen, it's not etiquette to place +father and daughter together, but I have a stranger for your other hand. +Ah, here he comes...." + +Kathleen's back was to the entrance of the dining-room, but a sixth sense +warned her who the newcomer was, and her face was expressionless when +Foster introduced his friend, Captain Miller, to Mrs. Whitney and her +husband. After greeting Miss Kiametia, Miller stepped to Kathleen's side. + +"Good morning," he said quietly, and held out his hand. Kathleen drew +back, then good breeding mastered her indignation. A second later her +hand was laid in his and instantly withdrawn, but her fingers tingled +from his strong clasp. + +"Jolly party you must have had last night, Kiametia." Foster's cheery +voice enabled Kathleen to control her somewhat shaken nerves. "Telephoned +Sinclair Spencer to stop and see me this morning, but his servant said he +never showed up until noon today." + +"Kathleen pleaded guilty to a sleepless night," volunteered Mrs. Whitney, +to the girl's secret indignation. + +"It was the lobster," answered Miss Kiametia. "I tried to warn you not +to eat it, Kathleen." + +"Well, your lobster won't account for the non-appearance of Henry," +mourned Mrs. Whitney, her mind harking back to her own grievance. "How +d'ye do, Mrs. Sunderland," as an elaborately gowned woman swept by their +table, barely returning their greeting. + +"It is the regret of my life," announced Miss Kiametia, her eyes +twinkling, "that I never kept a photograph of Mrs. Sunderland taken when +she first came to Washington ten years ago. It would provide a study in +expression and expansion in social snobbery." + +Mrs. Whitney, conscious that she was perhaps rude by her silence, turned +to Captain Miller who had taken no part in the conversation. + +"Is this your first visit to Washington, Captain?" she inquired. + +"Yes, and I find its residents so delightful that I hope to +prolong my stay." + +"What did you think of the speech today?" broke in Foster. + +"Capital! The Senator is right; if this government ship purchase bill +goes through, the country will indeed be buying a quarrel." + +"Quite right," agreed Whitney, laying down his fork. "The only people +who fail to see it in that light are those advocating the bill's passage. +Every nation thinks the same." + +"Except possibly Germany," argued Foster. "She would probably try and +sell us the hundreds of interned ships in our seaports." + +"Well, why shouldn't she?" Miss Kiametia, with recollections of her +misgivings the night before, declined the lobster croquettes. "With the +German steamships and freighters interned here we should have a merchant +marine ready to our hand." + +"And thereby provide instant use for our navy," retorted Whitney. + +"Uncle Sam had better think twice before taking issue with the German +submarines," grumbled Miss Kiametia. + +Whitney's eyes lit with an angry sparkle, and he opened his mouth to +speak, but his wife gave him no opportunity. + +"Are you pro-German, Kiametia?" she asked in astonishment. + +"Well, I lean that way," admitted the spinster. "You know I'm named for +the sister of Pocahontas, and my drop of Indian blood gives me a good +memory. It strikes me that this nation is overlooking the American +Revolution, not to mention 1812, and I also recollect that England did +not show us particular friendship during the Civil War." + +"The idea of waving the bloody shirt of '76!" exclaimed Kathleen. "For +shame, Miss Kiametia! We Anglo-Saxons must stand together. And another +thing: Germany may have wiped the Belgians off the map, but she's lodged +them in every American heart." + +"And we'll wake up some day and find the Germans sitting in Canada," +retorted Miss Kiametia. "Looking at U. S." + +"'Over the garden wall,'" quoted Whitney laughing. "No, no, Kiametia. +Wave the bloody shirt, but don't try to scare us with a straw man." + +"Straw or not, the Kaiser is the world's bogy man. He has taught us a +lesson in preparedness which this country will be slow to imitate." + +"Uncle Sam is a good disciplinarian but a poor student," acknowledged +Whitney, fingering the table ornaments nervously. "Well, Foster, I've +enjoyed myself immensely, but there's work awaiting me at home, and I +really must run along." + +Mrs. Whitney, talking placidly with Captain Miller, looked considerably +taken aback by her husband's precipitancy. Hastily draining the last drop +of her demi-tasse, she added her thanks and good-byes, and followed her +husband and Kathleen from the room. + +"I'll walk home," announced Kathleen, as Whitney signaled to their +chauffeur. "It will do me good, I need a constitutional." + +"But--but it's over a mile," protested Mrs. Whitney. + +"All the better," and waving her muff in farewell, Kathleen hastened off +through the grounds in the direction of Pennsylvania Avenue. She found +the cold invigorating air a bracing tonic after the steam-heated +atmosphere of the Capitol, and was thoroughly enjoying her walk when she +became conscious that a figure was keeping pace with her. Looking up, she +recognized Captain Miller. Kathleen stopped. + +"Which way are you going?" she demanded, totally unconscious of the +pretty tableau she made, her dark beauty enhanced by a becoming hat and +silver fox furs. Not anticipating her abrupt halt, Miller was forced to +retrace his footsteps. + +"I spoke to you twice, Miss Whitney, but you apparently did not hear me," +he answered, lifting his hat. "I asked if I might accompany you, and took +silence for consent. My way lies your way." + +Kathleen's fingers clenched tightly together inside her muff. "Are you +dead to all sense of decency?" she asked. "Can you not see that your +presence is an offense?" + +Miller's color rose, and there was an ominous flash in his blue-gray +eyes, but she met his look undauntedly. "I think you take an exaggerated +view of the matter," he said quietly. "I desire your friendship." + +"You dare ask that after...." + +With a quiet masterful gesture Miller stopped her. "We are living in the +present," he said. "I repent the past. Come"--with deepening earnestness, +"you are warm-hearted, impulsive, generous--be generous to me--give me a +chance to make good. Before God, I will not fail you." + +Kathleen scanned him keenly. Could she place faith in his sincerity? +As she met the penetrating glance she knew of old, now softened by the +fascination of his winning smile, she came again under the old +personal charm. + +"I cannot be friends with a man whom I do not respect," she stammered. + +"But you shall respect me," with dogged determination, "and then...." + +A bevy of girls, coming out of Galt's, paused to greet Kathleen, and +Miller, not waiting to complete his sentence, bowed to her and continued +up the Avenue. He paid no attention to the streets he traversed, but on +turning into F Street sought shelter near a shop to light his cigarette. +As he threw the burnt match to the pavement he was attracted by a large +photograph of Kathleen Whitney in the window. It was an excellent +likeness, and Miller, studying the clear-cut features, the lovely eyes, +and soft rippling hair, felt his heart throb. He glanced at the sign +above the window and found he was standing before Edmonston's +Photographic Studio. On impulse he entered the building. + +Miller's absorption in Kathleen's photograph had not gone unnoticed, and +when he emerged from the studio, the observer accosted him. + +"Beg pardon, sir, I'm Henry, Mr. Whitney's chauffeur," he said. "Mr. +Spencer, sir, was much put out to wake up this morning, sir, and find +himself in a strange hotel." + +"Better that than being registered 'drunk and disorderly,'" smiled +Miller. + +"Yes, Captain Miller. I told him, sir, that you had done him a service." + +"Ah, indeed? May I ask how you know who I am?" + +"I made out you'd have trouble with Mr. Spencer, sir, and as soon as I'd +left Miss Kathleen at home, sir, I ran the car back down by the park, +sir, just in time to see you leading Mr. Spencer into the hotel. The +doorman there gave me your name, sir." + +"I see," replied Miller thoughtfully. "I lunched with Mr. Whitney today, +and it was mentioned that you had not shown up," and his eyes were guilty +of a peculiar glint as he scrutinized the intelligent face and finely +proportioned figure of the chauffeur. + +Henry reddened. "I wasn't feeling very well in the night, sir, and +overslept," he explained. "Eh, Captain," as Miller turned away. "I saw +you looking, sir, at Miss Kathleen's picture. Did you get a copy in +Edmonston's?" + +"No," curtly. + +"I thought not, sir. They never part with their photographs in there, +sir. But there's an extra one in Mr. Whitney's library, sir, which I +could ... could...." he stopped abruptly as he met Miller's gaze. + +After a pause Miller slipped his hand into his pocket and on pulling it +out disclosed a gold coin lying in his bare palm. "I see you are +amenable to reason, Henry," he said serenely, and the chauffeur +stammered his thanks. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +PHANTOM WIRES + + +Sinclair Spencer walked up and down the Whitney drawing-room examining +the costly bric-a-brac, totally blind to the merits of each piece and in +several instances replacing them with entire disregard as to whether they +rested on the edge, or on firm foundation. His occupation was interrupted +by the return of Vincent, the butler. + +"Miss Kathleen is not at home, sir," he announced. + +"Quite certain, Vincent?" holding out a treasury bill with a +persuasive gesture. + +"Quite, sir." Vincent looked offended, but slipped the large tip in his +pocket with inward satisfaction. He saw Spencer's crestfallen appearance +and thawed. "Julie, the maid, says Miss Kathleen hasn't returned from the +Red Cross meeting, sir, but that she's liable to come in 'most any time." + +"Well, perhaps--is Mr. Whitney at home?" + +"Yes, sir; but I dassent interrupt him, sir. He's working in his studio." + +"Then I'll wait here for a time, at least. Don't wait, Vincent" + +"Very good, sir." But Vincent paused irresolutely. His conscience was +reproaching him. Miss Kathleen's orders had been very explicit; if Mr. +Spencer called to see her father, well and good; if he came to see _her_, +he was not to be admitted. + +For six weeks the seesaw had kept up, and Vincent had grown weary of +answering the door for Spencer. He had been an almost daily caller, +occasionally admitted when Winslow Whitney was downstairs, and always a +visitor on Mrs. Winslow's weekly day at home. But these latter visits had +profited him nothing. Kathleen never gave him an opportunity to see her +alone, and it was the same at dinners and dances to which they were both +invited. Spencer had come there that morning fully determined to see +Kathleen and, as he expressed it to himself, "have an understanding with +her." Having for once gotten by Vincent's relaxed guard, wild horses +would not have dragged him away. + +Vincent's harassed expression altered to one of relief as he heard the +front doorbell sound, but his feelings underwent a change when he saw +Kathleen standing in the vestibule instead of Mrs. Whitney, who had +announced that she would return early as she was walking and not using +the limousine. + +"Any mail for me in the noon delivery?" asked Kathleen, and her smile +faded at the butler's negative reply. Why did her letters to England +remain unanswered? John Hargraves was the promptest of correspondents, +and the question she had asked him required an answer. Preoccupied with +her own thoughts, she was about to enter the elevator totally oblivious +to Vincent's agitated manner. As she placed her hand on the elevator +door, Sinclair Spencer walked into the hall. + +"How are you?" he said, his off-hand salutation concealing much +tribulation of spirit. Vincent caught one glimpse of Kathleen's face and +discreetly vanished. + +"Do you wish to see my father, Mr. Spencer?" asked Kathleen, utterly +ignoring his outstretched hand. + +"No. I came expressly to see you," and his air of dogged determination +was not to be mistaken. Kathleen came to a sudden decision. + +"Suppose we go into the drawing-room," she suggested. "I can spare you a +few minutes." But once in the room she did not sit down. "Why do you wish +to see me, Mr. Spencer?" + +"To ask you to marry me." Sinclair's usually florid face was white, and +his customary self-assurance had departed. + +"I thank you for the compliment," with icy politeness, "but I must +decline your proposal." + +"You--you refuse?" Spencer spoke as in a dream. + +"Yes. Surely, Mr. Spencer, you cannot have expected any other +answer--cannot have deluded yourself into thinking that I could possibly +accept you? I have tried in every means within my power to discourage +your attentions." + +"But why?" Spencer's air castles were tumbling about his ears, but he +stuck to his guns. His affection for Kathleen, fanned by her +indifference, had become all-absorbing. Courted and flattered by mothers +with marriageable daughters, he had come to believe that he had but to +speak to win Kathleen. + +"Why discuss the matter further?" asked Kathleen. She heartily wished the +scene over; it had not been of her seeking. To wantonly hurt another's +feelings was alien to her nature, and that Spencer was suffering his +demeanor betrayed. + +"I must." Spencer came a step nearer. "Tell me why you refuse me." + +"Your habits ..." + +"I haven't touched a drop of wine since that dinner at Chevy Chase," +triumphantly. "And if you don't approve, I'll not take another drink as +long as I live." + +"I certainly think it would be better for you to stick to that +resolution." Kathleen moved toward the hall door. "I really do not see +any object in prolonging this discussion." + +"But I do," following her. "I have perhaps startled you by my abrupt +manner. I do love you, Kathleen"--his voice shook--"love you better than +anybody. I know that I can make you care for me. I have money ..." + +"That makes no difference." + +"With you, perhaps not," but Spencer looked dubious. "I swear never to +touch wine again. I will gratify your every wish"--Kathleen shook her +head, and he added heatedly, "What is there about me you don't like?" + +"I--I cannot tell--" Kathleen edged toward the door. "It's a case of +'Dr. Fell.'" + +"Fell?" Spencer turned red, his self-esteem pricked at last. "Is that +another name for Captain Miller?" with insolent significance. + +Kathleen stepped back as if struck. "I think it time to end this +conversation," she said, but her remark received no attention. + +"I see it all now," muttered Spencer. "Captain Miller has won your +affection." + +"He has not." The contradiction slipped from Kathleen with more vehemence +than she intended. Spencer brightened. In endeavoring to convince +herself, she had thoroughly convinced him. + +"You are not engaged to him?" he asked eagerly. + +"Certainly not." Kathleen crimsoned with indignation. How dared Sinclair +Spencer catechise her! "I must insist that you leave. And, Mr. Spencer, +please remember, I desire that you never again allude to your proposal of +marriage." + +"But I shall," doggedly. + +"Then our acquaintance will cease." Her manner even more than her words +roused Spencer to sudden wrath. + +"No, it won't," he retorted. "And I will make you--understand--make you +reconsider your refusal to marry me. Good morning," and without a +backward look he departed. + +Kathleen drew a long breath of relief as the front door closed behind +him. "Thank God, he's gone," she said aloud, unconscious that her words +were overheard. "He is insufferable. I cannot understand why father ever +encouraged him to come to the house." + +Rapid walking soon brought Spencer to the corner of Seventeenth and H +Streets, and hailing a taxicab he gave the chauffeur an address on +Nineteenth Street. Fifteen minutes later he was ushered into the presence +of Baron Frederic von Fincke. + +"And how is the excellent Mr. Spencer this morning?" asked von Fincke +genially, offering his guest a chair. + +Spencer, however, remained standing and disregarded the question as well +as the chair. + +"Who is this fellow, Charles Miller?" he asked in his turn. + +Von Fincke laughed softly. "Consult your 'Who's Who,' my dear friend; do +not come to me, an outsider." + +"You know why I come to you," with pointed accentuation. "I am determined +to find out Miller's antecedents, and I am convinced you can tell me if +you will." + +Von Fincke shook his head. "You overrate my powers," he insisted suavely. +"I have met Captain Miller as one meets any visitor to this cosmopolitan +city. My acquaintance extends no further than our meeting at Miss Grey's +dinner at the Chevy Chase Club six weeks ago." + +Spencer paused in indecision; for the moment, the foreigner's candid +manner disarmed his doubts. "Quite sure you can't find out about Miller?" +he persisted. + +"I can but question my few friends in Washington; their information of +Captain Miller may be of the vaguest. Why do you not apply to Senator +Randall Foster? He and the Captain are what you call--inseparable." + +"So they are, but I'm not going to Foster for anything." + +"No?" + +"_No!_" The repetition was almost a roar. Spencer's temper, always +uncertain, had been severely tried that morning, and was rapidly giving +way under the strain of bitter disappointment. "I ran up against Foster +in those Senate lobby charges, and of all the cantankerous--" He paused +expressively, then added, "I used to have a high regard for his sagacity +and business judgment until he lost his head over that Grey woman. +Because she don't choose to be decently civil, he's turned surly. You +wait! I'll bring them to time, and Kathleen Whitney also." + +"Ah!" + +"You may 'Ah!' all you wish, but I am going to marry that girl, in spite +of her refusal." + +"And how is that to be accomplished if you have not the young +lady's consent?" + +Spencer thrust his hands deep into his pockets and faced von Fincke +resolutely. "She idolizes her father; his word is law to her." + +"And you have his consent to the match?" + +"Not yet, but I mean to get it; if necessary, by moral suasion." + +"Gently, my dear Spencer, gently." Von Fincke held up a warning hand. +"Whitney must not be annoyed." + +"Indeed?" Spencer eyed his companion suspiciously. "And why not?" + +"His invention...." + +Spencer's laugh was not pleasant. "How do you know it isn't completed and +patent applied for?" + +"Is that so?" Von Fincke walked over to his desk and seated himself. +"Suppose we sit and talk...." + +"No," defiantly. "The time for talking has gone by. You know, I'll bet my +last cent that Whitney has patents pending in the United States Patent +Office for his invention. All this waiting for him to finish his work is +poppy-cock. Why are you protecting Whitney, unless he's your tool?" + +Von Fincke laughed. "You have strange ideas. Do sit and let us change +the topic of conversation." + +"I won't." Spencer strode to the door. "I've done with your dirty +work...." + +"Tut! tut!" Von Fincke, who had been leaning back in his revolving chair, +straightened up. "Your language, my dear friend, can be improved ..." + +"And so can my knowledge," significantly. "I'm going to investigate +Whitney's affairs and his house before I'm much older. Don't bother to +ring for a servant," he added, seeing his host's hand hovering over the +electric desk bell, and not waiting for an answer, bolted from the room. + +Von Fincke's hand descended on the electric bell button with imperative +force, and rising he hastened into the hall. He paused at sight of his +breathless valet ushering Spencer down the staircase. Not until he was +thoroughly convinced that Spencer had left the house did he turn back +from the head of the stairs. + +"He grows troublesome, that Spencer," he mused as he made his way to his +own suite of rooms. + +An hour later Captain Charles Miller turned in at the main entrance of +his hotel and went directly to his room on the eighth floor. Humming +softly to himself he hung up his overcoat and hat in the closet, and +removing his coat placed that also on a hanger. Back once more in his +bedroom, he carefully arranged the heavy draperies over his window so +that his movements were completely screened, and taking a black silk +muffler fastened it securely over the knob of the hall door. The window +and door of his private bathroom were likewise draped. Finally satisfied +that he was secure from observation and all sound deadened, Miller took +from his overcoat pocket four porcelain castors, and dropping on his +knees by the side of his brass bed, he deftly inserted them in place of +the bed's regular steel castors. + +Pausing long enough to clear the toilet articles from his bureau, he +lifted from a box-shaped leather bag marked "Underwood" a Massie +Rosonophone and deftly installed it on the bureau top. Taking a slight +copper wire he attached it to one of the posts of the bed and connected +it with the apparatus, making sure that the wire was suspended clear of +the ground and surrounding objects. With another suspended wire he +grounded the apparatus on the radiator. + +At last convinced that all was adjusted properly, Miller moved over to +his desk and gazed intently at a large photograph of Kathleen Whitney. It +was an occupation of which he never tired. The faint buzz of the alarm +bell sent him back to the wireless apparatus, and slipping on his +headpiece telephone he picked up his pencil. Listening intently to the +dots and dashes, Miller took down the message passing through space. + +As he jotted down the last letter and the wireless apparatus ceased to +receive, Miller regarded the written coded message before him on his +writing pad with deep satisfaction. He was at last in tune with the +transmitting station. The code only remained to be solved. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +KAISER BLUMEN + + +Miss Kiametia Grey was having her last Tuesday at home before Holy Week, +and the drawing-room of her apartment was hardly large enough to hold all +her callers comfortably. She was assisted in receiving by several of her +friends, and Kathleen Whitney presided over the tea-table. + +Kathleen, chatting gayly with first one visitor and then another, was +unaware that with the passing of time her eyes strayed more and more +frequently to the hall doorway, nor was she conscious that they gained an +added brightness on perceiving Captain Charles Miller enter the room. + +Owing to the departure of other guests Miss Kiametia contented herself +with shaking Miller's hand warmly. "Come and talk to me later," she +called, and turned her attention to those waiting to say good-bye. But +she was not so absorbed as not to note Miller's progress down the +room. From the corner of her eye she saw him stop and speak to +Kathleen, accept a cup of tea, and walk over and seat himself on the +sofa by Mrs. Whitney. That Mrs. Whitney was pleased by the attention +was plain to be seen. + +"Hum!" chuckled the astute spinster to herself. "'Always kiss the blossom +when making love to the bud'--Captain Miller is nobody's fool." + +"Stop looking at Miller," admonished Senator Foster, standing by her +elbow. "Pay attention to me." + +"I will, if you will inform me who Miller is," she retorted. + +Foster looked at her oddly. "The Pied Piper, judging from the way you +women run after him," he grumbled. "Can't a good-looking man come to +Washington without being swamped with invitations?" + +"Sour grapes!" Miss Kiametia's kind smile took the sting from her words, +and Foster, whose looks were his sensitive point, laughed. "You haven't +answered my question." + +"He brought me letters from the president of a big munitions factory in +Pennsylvania," he answered readily. "I gather--mind you I know nothing +positively and must not be quoted...." + +"Quite so. Well, I'm no parrot." The spinster nodded her head +vigorously. "You're safe; go on." + +Again Foster hesitated. He knew Miss Kiametia dearly loved a morsel of +gossip, but he also knew that she could be trusted not to divulge matters +of real importance. He, as well as the other members of the set in which +the Whitneys and Miss Grey belonged, had observed Captain Miller's +attention to Kathleen, had noted the gradual thawing of her stiff manner +to him as the weeks went on, and he believed that Miss Kiametia's +questions were prompted by the affection she bore Kathleen. He also was +aware that the spinster cordially detested Sinclair Spencer and was +secretly elated at Kathleen's indifference to the lawyer's attentions. + +"I imagine Miller is here in the interests of the Allies," he said, +lowering his voice. "I know that he has entered into negotiations for the +purchase of war munitions, and that he is hoping to put through a deal +for certain cavalry horses. I am so positive that he is what he +represents himself to be that I have given him letters to influential men +in my State." + +"That possibly explains his many abrupt absences from the city," +commented Miss Kiametia sagely. "He has the habit of backing out of +dinner engagements at the eleventh hour. But tell me, do you know +nothing about the man's family--his character?" + +"Not a word. His letter of introduction was good, his business references +excellent, and so"--the Senator's gesture was expressive. "I had no idea +he would prove such a Beau Brummel when I introduced him to my Washington +friends." Foster turned and looked across the room at Miller. "I should +judge that he has seen service, his carriage is military." + +"He appears to be an American, but he has certain mannerisms"--Miss +Kiametia paused and, not completing her sentence, turned her attention +to other guests. After their departure she beckoned Foster to join her +by the door. + +"Captain Miller piques my curiosity," she whispered. "You say you +know nothing about his family--I am going to find out about his +character _now_." + +"How?" Foster looked mystified. "Where are you going?" as she moved +forward. "Remember, what I told you was confidential." + +"Trust me," and with a most undignified wink, Miss Kiametia sailed down +upon Mrs. Whitney and Captain Miller. "You can't escape me," she said to +the latter, as he rose on her approach. "You must come and be +victimized." + +"In what way?" + +"By my latest fad--palmistry. Come, Minna, we'll go into the library," +and laying a determined hand on Miller's arm she led the way into the +cozy room, followed by Mrs. Whitney and the highly amused Senator. +Miss Kiametia was a good organizer, and she marshalled her three +guests into seats by the library table, placing Miller between herself +and Mrs. Whitney. + +"Is this a seance?" inquired Kathleen, watching the group from the +doorway. Another of Miss Kiametia's receiving party had taken her place +at the tea-table. + +"Come and lend Captain Miller your moral support," called Miss Kiametia, +while his character is being divulged. "No, you are to sit still," as +Miller made a motion to rise. "Kathleen can stand behind us and prompt me +if my deductions go astray; she knows you better than the rest of us." + +Kathleen advanced with lagging steps into the room. She had turned +singularly pale, and Miss Kiametia, watching her closely, wondered if +she was taking the game seriously. She stopped just back of Miller's +chair and rested her hand lightly on Miss Kiametia's shoulder as the +latter pulled the electric lamp nearer so that its rays fell full upon +Miller's palm. + +"Has the size of the hand anything to do with the subject?" asked Miller, +as the spinster picked up a magnifying glass. + +"Don't make suggestions to the oracle," laughed Foster. "Go ahead, +Kiametia." + +"Your life line is good," pronounced the spinster, "but as it divides +toward the end you will probably die in a country different from that of +your birth." + +"Any particular time scheduled for the event?" questioned Miller, +skeptically, but Miss Kiametia ignored the remark. + +"This branch from the head line to the heart"--indicating it with a +slender paper-cutter--"denotes some great affection which makes you blind +to reason and danger." She paused irresolutely. "Pshaw! I'm reading from +the left hand, let me see the other...." + +"Isn't the one nearest the heart the surest guide?" inquired Miller. + +"It is not," with decision, and Miller, smiling whimsically, extended his +hand toward them. + +"The right hand of fellowship," he remarked, placing his palm directly +under the light. + +"My theory is correct." Miss Kiametia shot a triumphant look at Mrs. +Whitney. "There are always more lines in the right palm than in the left; +and see, here is a wider space between the lines of the head and +life--contact with the world, Captain Miller, has taught you +self-reliance, promptness of action, and readiness of thought. Hello, +what is that on your index finger--a half-moon?" + +"Yes." Miller smiled covertly; the spinster's seriousness amused him +immensely. "Isn't that according to Hoyle?" + +"No, nor according to Cheiro, either," tartly. "Hold your palm steady so +that I can see more clearly. It's a scar, isn't it?" + +"Yes." + +Mrs. Whitney and Senator Foster were closely following Miss +Kiametia's words, and neither saw the perplexed frown which wrinkled +Kathleen's forehead as she stared down at Miller's right hand. She +was distinctly puzzled. + +"The strength of your own individuality will carry you over many +obstacles," finished Miss Kiametia, giving Miller's hand a friendly tap +with the paper-cutter. + +"Read mine next," and Foster held out his right hand. + +"Haven't time; besides," the spinster's eyes twinkled, "I know your +character like a book. What is it, Sylvester?" as her colored butler +appeared, card tray in hand. "More visitors? Oh, yes, the Peytons--I +particularly want you to know them, Minna; no, you must not think of +leaving yet," and with her accustomed energy Miss Kiametia whisked Mrs. +Whitney into the drawing-room, Senator Foster following. As Kathleen +stepped toward the door, Miller stopped her. + +"Don't go," he pleaded, his voice, though low, vibrating with pent-up +feeling. "Kathleen, my beloved, don't go." + +She placed an unsteady hand on the portiere. "I must," she stammered. +"They need me...." + +"No, I am the one who needs you. My last chance of happiness lies in the +balance. Kathleen, give me a hearing." + +Slowly, reluctantly she turned in his direction. "Be wise, leave things +as they are...." + +"I cannot." Miller was white with the intensity of his emotion. "I love +you, love you." + +Kathleen's hand crept to her heart as if to still its wild throb. + +"Don't, don't"--she looked beseechingly at him. "Have you forgotten..." + +"Yes," boldly. "I only realize you are all in all to me." + +In the dead silence that followed the ticking of the small desk clock was +distinctly audible. + +"Why not leave well enough alone?" she begged, a trifle wildly. + +"Because I cannot stand it," huskily. "To see you day after day--Will +nothing I say convince or move you? Am I outside the pale of affection?" + +No answer. In the prolonged silence Miller's self-control snapped, and +stepping to her side he drew her in his arms. For a second she struggled +to release herself, then her strength gave way and she leaned limply +against him. + +"I am a fool, a fool to listen to you," she gasped, "but I--I--love you +now as I never did before." + +With a low cry of unutterable happiness Miller bent his head and their +lips met in a passionate kiss. + +The hall clock was chiming six when Mrs. Whitney and Kathleen reached +home. Not waiting for her mother, Kathleen ran upstairs and shut herself +in her own room. Without troubling to switch on the electric lights she +made her way to a chair by the window and flung herself into it. + +Love, the all-powerful, had conquered reason. Against her better judgment +she had pledged her faith to Charles Miller. Her heart throbbed high +with hope, and with dreamy, happy eyes she stared out of the window into +the darkness. Slowly she reviewed the events of the past six weeks. Never +intrusive, yet always by her side and at her beck and call, never at a +loss to do and say the right thing, Miller had wooed her in his own +masterful way, trampling down prejudice, suspicion, unbelief, until he +had gained his heritage--love. The specter of the past was +laid--involuntarily Kathleen shivered. + +"Is Mademoiselle here?" asked the French maid, peering in uncertainly +from the hall door. She had rapped repeatedly and getting no response +had gone downstairs to look for Kathleen, only to be told that she was +in her own room. + +"Come in, Julie, and turn on the electric switch," directed Kathleen, and +blinked as the room was suddenly flooded with light. Without rising she +removed her hat-pins and handed her hat and coat to the maid. "Just the +blue foulard tonight. What have you there?" + +"Some flowers, mademoiselle," handing the box to Kathleen. "Captain +Miller left them at the door himself, and seeing me in the hall asked +that I give them to you at once." With a Frenchwoman's tact she busied +herself in getting out the blue foulard and pretended not to see the +blush and smile which accompanied Kathleen's opening of the box. She did +not speak again, helping Kathleen with deft fingers to finish her toilet, +and then stood back to contemplate the effect. "Will mademoiselle attend +the meeting tonight?" she asked. + +"No, I am not a member of the Sisters in Unity. I had forgotten the club +was to meet here. Perhaps mother will need you now. Don't wait." + +But the Frenchwoman lingered. "Mademoiselle," she began. "Mademoiselle." + +"Yes, Julie." + +"_Pardon_". Turning abruptly, Julie opened the door and glanced up and +down the hall, then gently closed and locked it. With equal quietness she +bolted the sitting-room door. Watching her with growing curiosity +Kathleen saw that her comely face was white and drawn. + +"Listen, mademoiselle." The Frenchwoman was careful to keep her voice +low-pitched. "I dare to speak tonight--for France." + +"For France!" echoed Kathleen. + +"France." Julie's tone caressed the word. "My country needs your father's +invention--Ah, mademoiselle, do not let him sell it to another." + +"He will offer it first to our own Government." + +"Will he, mademoiselle? Ah, do not be offended," catching Kathleen's +swift change of expression. "I dare speak as I do--for France; think me +not disrespectful--but others wait to tempt your father." + +"Nonsense!" + +"I know what I know, mademoiselle. It has gotten abroad that Mr. Whitney +has completed his invention, that tests prove it successful--and, +mademoiselle, this house is watched." + +Kathleen looked at Julie incredulously. Had the maid taken leave of her +senses? Between nervousness and anxiety the Frenchwoman was trembling +from head to foot. + +"Warn your father, mademoiselle; he will listen to you." + +"I will," with reassuring vigor. "Tell me, Julie, what has aroused your +suspicion?" + +"Many things. When it creeps out that M. Whitney has succeeded, I say to +myself--the Germans, they will be interested. And I wait. Then madame +engages Henry...." + +"Henry? The chauffeur?" + +"But yes. I do not like Henry, mademoiselle. He is too much in the +house for a chauffeur; I meet him on the stairs, always on his way to +the attic with some message to M. Whitney who works in his studio +there. He laughs and teases me, that Henry, but wait!" Julie's eyes +were blazing. "And that Monsieur Spencer; I trust him not also. Ah, +mademoiselle, do not let him be closeted with your father--he is the +younger and stronger man." + +"Julie, are you quite mad?" exclaimed Kathleen, her eyes twice their +usual size. + +"No, mademoiselle. I watch; yes, always I watch and listen. Your father +did well to have iron shutters on the windows and new bolts on the door, +but he knows not that I am within call--on the other side of the door." + +"Upon my word!" Kathleen's brain was in a whirl. Was Julie's mind +unbalanced? She knew that the Frenchwoman's fiance and two brothers had +been killed early in the war. Had grief for them and anxiety for her +beloved country developed hallucinations? One thing was apparent--it +would never do to disagree with her in her overwrought condition. +Kathleen laid her arm protectingly about her shoulders and gave her a +squeeze. She was very fond of the warm-hearted Frenchwoman. + +"Do not worry, Julie. I will see that father takes every precaution to +safeguard his invention." She hesitated. "I, too, sympathize deeply with +France." "God bless thee, mademoiselle." + +With a movement full of grace Julie raised Kathleen's hand to her lips, +then glided from the room, her slippers making no noise on the thick +carpet. + +Left alone Kathleen picked up her box of flowers and walked thoughtfully +into her sitting-room. Her interview with Julie had depressed her. As she +passed her desk she saw a note addressed to her lying on it, but +recognizing Sinclair Spencer's handwriting she tossed it down again +unopened. It would keep to read later. She walked over to the pier glass +and began to adjust the flowers which Miller had sent her. More +interested in his note which accompanied his gift, she had at first taken +them for violets, but looking more closely at the corsage bouquet she +found it contained cornflowers. Again she read his note: + +"MY DARLING: + +"I send you the harbinger of spring, of hope, of happiness. Ever fondly +your lover, + +"CHARLES." + +Back to Kathleen's memory came a vision of waving wheat in a field on the +outskirts of Berlin and scattered among the grain grew the +cornflower--_Kaiser blumen_. She raised her hand to her hot cheeks. How +came Miller to send her flowers which he knew were connected with that +past he so ardently wished forgotten? + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +THE SPIDER AND THE FLY + + +Whitney scanned the long drawing-room and library beyond in comic +despair. The furniture of both rooms, which opened out of each other, +had been carried into another part of the house, and in its place were +rows on rows of gilt chairs, while in the bow window stood an +improvised platform. + +"Can I get you a seat, sir?" asked Vincent, placing a pitcher of ice +water and tumblers on the speaker's table. + +"No, thanks; my days as parliamentarian are over, thank the Lord. I have +learned, Vincent, that when the Sisters in Unity hold an election it's +safer to be on the other side of the bolted door." + +"Yes, sir." Vincent removed a cherished Sevres vase from its customary +abiding place on the mantel and tucked it carefully under his arm. "Miss +Kathleen is looking for you, sir. I think I hear her in the hall now, +sir," and he hastened into the library as Kathleen stepped into the +drawing-room. + +"Where have you been since dinner, Dad? I went from the top of the house +to the bottom looking for you." + +"Had to go over to the drugstore to get a prescription filled. Can I do +anything for you?" + +"Yes. Come and spend the evening with me," she coaxed. + +Whitney laughed. "Can't, my dear. I have important work ahead of +me tonight." + +"It must wait until tomorrow," coaxingly, stroking his cheek softly. "I +don't like these lines, Dad. Your health is more to be considered than +your work." + +Whitney's air of tolerance turned to one of determination. "You are +wrong; my work is of primary importance. It's only a matter of hours now, +Kathleen; then I can loaf for the rest of my days." + +She shook her head. "Unless you take rest you cannot stand the strain. +Mother tells me you worked all last night and far into the morning." + +"My brain is clearer at night, and I have always required very little +sleep." He frowned with growing impatience. "There is no use discussing +the subject." He spoke in a tone which forbade further argument. + +"Dad," Kathleen lowered her voice and moved closer to him, "has it +occurred to you that--that people are unduly curious about your +invention?" + +Whitney eyed her keenly. "It has," he admitted tersely, "and I have taken +precautions." He stared at the clock and frowned impatiently. "Nearly +eight--the meeting will commence soon; let's get out of here." + +"Wait, Dad," Kathleen laid a restraining hand on his shoulder. "I cannot +bear to think of you alone in the attic--so far away from--" + +"Sisters in Unity--the very best of reasons for going to the attic--" + +"Let me come with you," eagerly. "I'll bring my own work and not say a +word to you. I'm nervous, Daddy, I--I don't want to be by myself +tonight--and there's something I want to--to--" her voice broke. + +Whitney glanced at Kathleen in surprise. What had come over her? + +"Oh, come along," he agreed roughly. "Only remember, I won't be tormented +with small talk." + +Kathleen's eyes brightened with relief as she accompanied him into the +hall. As they appeared the elevator door opened and Mrs. Whitney stepped +out into the hall. + +"Why, I thought you were lying down, Kathleen; you said that you were +too tired to come in later to our club meeting and hear Senator Foster's +address on 'Peace,'" she exclaimed, and not waiting for an answer, turned +to Whitney. "Can you spare me a moment, Winslow? I wish your advice," and +with a quick tilt of her head she indicated the small reception room on +the left of the front door. "Come in here." + +"Certainly, Minna. Don't wait for me, Kathleen," but the girl paused +irresolutely. + +"Shall I go to the studio?" she asked. + +"No, you cannot get in; the door is locked. Go to your sitting-room and +I'll stop for you on the way to the studio." + +"Honest Injun, Dad?" And her father, nodding vigorous assent, watched her +go up the stairs, then with a brisk step entered the reception room. + +"How charming you look, Minna!" he exclaimed, in honest admiration. + +"You think so?" and Mrs. Whitney dimpled with pleasure. "I do want to win +the election tonight--and clothes count for so much in woman's politics." + +"I back you to win against all comers," and Whitney gave her shapely +shoulder a loving pat as he stooped to kiss her. "What is the matter with +Kathleen tonight? Her behavior troubles me." + +His wife laughed softly. "She is suffering from an old complaint--she +is in love." + +"What!" Whitney stared at her in blank astonishment. "With whom?" and +sudden, sharp anxiety lay behind the abrupt question. + +"I suspect--Captain Miller." + +"Miller? That silent--" Whitney checked his impetuous words. "Miller? +Good Lord!" + +"What can you tell me about Captain Miller?" Her feminine curiosity was +instantly aroused at his quick change of expression. + +"Just what I have seen of him and nothing more. He never talks of +himself." + +"Such a relief," sighed Mrs. Whitney. "There is Randall Foster--talks +always of his own achievements. Wait until Kiametia Grey marries him. I +sometimes wonder...." + +"I can't see that we are directly concerned with that romance," broke in +Whitney with characteristic impatience. "What's your opinion of Miller?" + +"I rather like him; he's very agreeable, good-looking, and seems to have +plenty of money...." + +"Then you...." + +"Favor his suit? Yes," tranquilly. + +"But, heavens, Minna, you know nothing about Captain Miller's past." + +"You can inquire about it; in fact, I think it is your duty to do so. He +calls here entirely too frequently not to be asked his intentions." + +"What the--" Whitney reddened angrily and his voice rose. "A nice task +you put before me. I dis--" + +"Sh!" Rising hurriedly, Mrs. Whitney laid a warning hand on his +arm. "There's the bell, and this room is needed for the cloaks. +Where is Julie?" + +Paying no attention to her husband's apparent desire to say something +more, Mrs. Whitney stepped into the hall. Whitney stood in deep thought +for a brief moment, then hastened after her, but his hope to slip +upstairs unseen was frustrated. Miss Kiametia Grey, enveloped in a heavy +fur coat, promptly hailed him and as he stood chatting to her in the hall +the front door again opened and Henry, the chauffeur, who had been +requisitioned to assist Vincent, ushered in Sinclair Spencer. + +"Good evening, Mrs. Whitney," Spencer's loud cheery voice boomed through +the hall, and under cover of his jovial manner he scanned Whitney and his +wife. Had Kathleen spoken to them of his proposal of marriage that +morning and her refusal? "Just dropped in to see your husband, Mrs. +Whitney; hadn't hoped for the pleasure of seeing you. Hello, Whitney. +Evening, Miss Grey." But the spinster, with a stiff bow, slipped past the +lawyer and into the reception room without seeing his outstretched hand. +Spencer's florid complexion turned a deeper tint as he met Henry's blank +stare, but a covert glance at the Whitneys convinced him that they had +not seen Miss Kiametia's rudeness. + +"Do take Mr. Spencer upstairs, Winslow," suggested Mrs. Whitney, as the +chauffeur opened the door to admit more guests. "I have a meeting of my +club tonight, Mr. Spencer, and therefore..." + +"Certainly, certainly; please don't let my presence put you out," with a +courteous bow. "Come on, Whitney, let's go up to your studio," and he +followed his host into the elevator. + +Whitney stopped the car at the first bedroom floor. "We will be far +more comfortable in my wife's boudoir than in my studio," he said. "Go +ahead, Spencer, first door to your right. I'll stop in my bedroom and +get some cigars." + +Glancing curiously about the large attractive hall, Spencer entered the +daintily furnished boudoir, and was examining the many water colors and +photographs which hung on the walls, when Whitney came in carrying a +cigar box and a tray containing Scotch and vichy. + +"That's some of Kathleen's work," he explained, observing that the +lawyer had picked up a miniature of Mrs. Whitney. "She is clever with +her brush." + +"Very clever," agreed Spencer enthusiastically. "There is no one, +Whitney, whom I admire as I do your daughter," drawing a lounging +chair near the table on which his host put the tray. "Why does +Kathleen avoid me?" + +"Does she?" + +"She does," with bitter emphasis. "And it cuts--deep." + +"You are supersensitive," protested Whitney politely. "I do not for a +moment believe Kathleen would intentionally hurt your feelings." + +Spencer did not answer at once, and chafing inwardly at being kept from +his work in the studio, Whitney glared first at his guest and then at the +clock, but the hint was lost. + +Suddenly Spencer's right fist came down on the table with a resounding +whack. "Kathleen turned me down this morning." Whitney's eyes were +riveted on his guest but he said nothing, and Spencer continued +earnestly. "I want you to use your influence...." + +"No." The monosyllable was spoken quietly, but the gleam in Whitney's +eyes was a silent warning. "We will leave my daughter's name out of the +discussion. Was there anything else you wished to see me about? If +not...." and he half rose. + +Instead of answering Spencer lolled back in his chair and, taking his +time, lighted a cigar. + +"Your note for twenty thousand dollars is due in ten days," he announced. +"Are you prepared to take it up?" + +There was a protracted pause before Whitney spoke. "Are you willing +to let me curtail your note with a payment of five thousand +dollars?" he asked. + +"No." + +Whitney's hand closed spasmodically over the bottle of whiskey, and he +was livid with anger as he glared at the younger man. Spencer's good +looks were marred by signs of recent dissipation, and the coarse lines +about his thin lips destroyed the air of refinement given him by his +well-cut clothes. Whitney cast a despairing look about the room, at the +pretty knick-knacks, pictures, and handsome furniture--all indicated a +cultivated woman's taste. How his wife loved her belongings! + +With the curtailing of his income through the shrinking and non-payment +of dividends, he had drawn upon his principal and--keeping up +appearances was an expensive game. Every piece of property that he owned +was heavily mortgaged, and every bit of collateral was already deposited +to cover notes at his bank. Slowly Whitney's fingers loosened their grip +upon the bottle of whiskey. + +"Well," and his voice cut the stillness like a whiplash. "What is your +pound of flesh?" + +Spencer knocked the ash from the end of his cigar into the tray with care +that none should fall upon the polished mahogany table top. + +"Kathleen might reconsider--eh?" suggestively. "And--eh--there is your +invention--_your latest invention_." + +It was approaching midnight when Whitney stepped alone into the hall. The +hum of voices rose from the room below; evidently Vincent had neglected +to close the drawing-room doors, or else the Sisters in Unity needed air. +Listening intently, he judged from the direction of the voices that the +women had not gone into the dining-room. + +Whitney walked toward the elevator, paused, then continued down the hall +and without rapping entered Kathleen's sitting-room. But he stopped on +the threshold on beholding Kathleen sitting before her desk with her head +resting upon its flat top, sound asleep. By her side lay paint box and +brushes and a half-completed miniature of Captain Miller. Without +disturbing her, Whitney crept softly from the room. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +SISTERS IN UNITY + + +It was a very much flurried Vincent who admitted Senator Randall Foster, +and helped him off with his overcoat. + +"They're still argufying," he said, indicating the closed drawing-room +doors with a jerk of his thumb. "I'll get word to Mrs. Whitney, sir, that +you have come." + +"No, no, don't interrupt the meeting," hastily interposed the Senator. "I +may be a few minutes early. Can I see Mr. Whitney?" + +"Yes, sir, certainly, sir. Come this way," and Vincent moved toward the +elevator shaft. "I don't believe Mr. Whitney has gone to his studio, yet, +sir; he never takes anyone there, and I haven't seen Mr. Spencer leave." + +"Mr. Spencer?" Foster drew back. "Is he with Mr. Whitney?" + +"Yes, sir, so Henry told me." + +"After all, I don't believe I'll disturb Mr. Whitney, Vincent. Is there +some place I can wait downstairs?" + +"Yes, sir, the reception room." The butler led the way to it "I'm afraid, +sir, you'll find it very uncomfortable in here, sir," looking at the +racks of coats and cloaks, "but"--brightening--"here's a copy of the +evening paper; Mr. Whitney must have left it; and this chair, sir--" + +"Yes, yes, Vincent, thank you, I'll be all right." Foster took possession +of the solitary uncovered chair. "This is an excellent opportunity of +reading over my speech. Be sure and let me know, Vincent, the instant I +am wanted in the drawing-room." + +"Surely, sir. I'll tell Mrs. Whitney that you are here, sir," and +Vincent retired. + +Inside the closed drawing-room and library the atmosphere was surcharged +with electricity. Miss Kiametia Grey, who had locked horns with her +opponents on numerous subjects, sat back, flushed and victorious; she was +beginning to feel the fatigue incident to having borne the brunt of the +discussion, and was secretly longing to have the meeting adjourn to the +dining-room where she suspected Mrs. Whitney had provided a bountiful +supper. She felt the need of refreshments, if only a Roman punch. + +Mrs. Whitney was also feeling the strain. She had designated a sister +official to occupy the chair when the nominating speeches were in order, +and was awaiting the announcement of the result of the ballot with inward +trepidation. Her composed manner and smiling face won Miss Kiametia's +admiration; she was herself of too excitable a temperament to keep her +equanimity unimpaired, and she watched Mrs. Whitney's calm demeanor and +unruffled poise, conscious of her own disheveled appearance. She missed +Kathleen; the latter's presence had become an almost virtual necessity to +the spinster. Despite the disparity in ages, their tastes were similar, +and both had a keen sense of humor. It had added zest to the spinster's +enjoyment of the season's gayeties to have Kathleen with her, and she had +watched the girl's gradual absorption in Captain Miller with lynx eyes. +The obliteration of Sinclair Spencer as a possible suitor had filled her +with delight. But she had seen Spencer in the house that very night. What +did that mean? What was he there for? Surely, Kathleen had not.... + +A stir in the back of the room recalled Miss Kiametia's wandering +thoughts, and she leaned eagerly forward to hear the report of the +chairman of the tellers. Mrs. Whitney was elected and Miss Kiametia had +also carried the day. Round after round of hearty applause greeted the +announcement, and as it died out the two successful candidates for first +and second place in the organization stepped to the platform. But after +expressing her thanks, Miss Kiametia again resumed her seat among the +members, while Mrs. Whitney took up the duties of presiding officer. + +As the regular business of the meeting drew to a close one of the members +rose, and on being recognized announced that she had a resolution to +offer, and read in a high singsong voice: + +"Be it resolved that this organization of Sisters in Unity indorse the +peace movement, and that it use its wide influence to check the tendency +toward militarism which injudicious and misguided Americans hope to foist +upon the American public." + +Applause greeted the speaker, and a gray-haired woman across the room +demanded recognition from the chair. + +"I would like to say a few words in favor of that resolution," she began, +finally catching Mrs. Whitney's attention. "Our wars with England, our +mother country, were but as the wrangle of relatives. The leaders in the +warring nations in Europe today are all related. Let us keep clear of all +international entanglements. Let us have peace. Through peace this +country has achieved greatness. Peace and prosperity go hand in hand. +Peace uplifts; war retards. Militarism is a throw-back to feudal days. On +its lighter side, militarism is an appeal for gold lace and brass +buttons. A man puts on our uniform because it is a thing of show, in +other words, conspicuous ..." + +"Madam chairman!" Her face flaming, an irate woman arose. "No, I don't +care whether I'm in order or not; I will be heard--Mrs. Lutz is quite +right, the United States uniform _is_ conspicuous, and has been +conspicuous on many a bloody battlefield since 1776. The uniform is +honored alike in court and camp in every nation of the world." + +As she sat down pandemonium reigned. Instantly Miss Kiametia was on her +feet, and her strident call, "Madam chairman, madam chairman," rose +repeatedly above the hubbub. Mrs. Whitney pounded for order and gave the +spinster the floor. + +"I rise to a question of information," explained Miss Kiametia, in tones +which echoed through the rooms. "Is this an indignation meeting or an +assemblage of Sisters in Unity?" she demanded, and sat down. In the +comparative quiet that ensued, the peace resolution was seconded and +passed by a small majority. + +Mrs. Whitney stepped to the edge of the platform. "Senator Randall +Foster has very kindly consented to address us tonight," she said. "So +distinguished a lawmaker needs no introduction to this organization. Mr. +Senator," as Foster entered through the door held open for him by +Vincent, "we invite you to the platform." + +Bowing his thanks, Foster joined Mrs. Whitney and immediately began one +of those adroit, well-worded addresses which had made him a marked man +in the Senate. "I come to you a special pleader," he continued, with +growing earnestness, "to spread the gospel of peace. It is your +privilege to weld public opinion, and opinion can be as a yoke upon a +man's neck. In this free America opinion governs. Jingoes would try to +plunge us into war. When a boy is given an airgun, his first impulse is +to go out and shoot it off. Arm the men of this country and their +impulse will be the same. A small standing army does not tend to +militarism; its size does not lend itself to the issuing of imperative +mandates; and mandates, ladies, lead to war. + +"It is especially a woman's duty to demand peace. In war, upon the woman +falls the suffering and the sacrifice. The lover, the brother, the +father, the son may find honorable death upon the field, but at home the +woman pays. God pity the woman left desolate and alone, her loved ones +sacrificed on the altar of militarism! + +"And mothers? What of your children and the fate of yet unborn +generations? Are they brought into the world to be tools of militarism? +Lift up your voice for peace; carry the message, 'Peace on earth' to the +very portals of Congress. Make any and every sacrifice, but guard your +man child." + +As Foster stopped speaking enthusiastic applause broke out, and a rising +vote of thanks was given him. As the gratified Senator stepped down from +the platform he found himself by Miss Kiametia's side. + +"I did it to please you, Kiametia," he whispered, holding her hand +tightly. "Have I earned one kind word?" + +Miss Kiametia favored him with a quick expressive look and a faint blush. + +"You are a staunch friend," she said warmly, and Foster brightened. +"Only--only why did you lay such stress on the 'man child'? Nearly all +are spinsters in this peace organization." + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +A MAN IN A HURRY + + +Heavy clouds hung low and not a star was visible. The darkness was +intensified by the gleam of distant city lights, for in that section of +Washington lying to the southwest of Pennsylvania Avenue a defective fuse +had caused the dimming of every electric light in the vicinity. Far up on +one of the roofs a man, crouching behind the meager shelter offered by a +chimney, blessed the chance which fortune provided. + +Crawling on hands and knees, he cautiously made his way to the edges of +the roof, on which he had dropped from the higher building next door, and +looked down. His eyes straining in the darkness, every sense alert to +danger, he scanned intently each window ledge and cornice. No hope there. +Not even a lead pipe or telephone wires afforded a hold for desperate, +gripping fingers. Unlike the building adjoining on the south, the new +house had no party wall, and a gulf too wide to jump separated it from +its northern neighbor. The sheer drop to the garden beneath was suicidal. + +The man lay for a few seconds striving to collect himself. He could not +return the way he had come. He would be caught like a rat in the trap +with the arrival of dawn, if not before. Perhaps his pursuers were on his +trail already. The thought spurred his numbed body to action, and lifting +his head he glanced along the flat roof. Toward the center of it rose a +box-like structure with apparently an arched skylight above it. A little +distance away from the structure, he distinguished the outlines of what +appeared to be a scuttle. Warily he approached it, and using every +precaution to make the least possible sound, he attempted to raise the +scuttle. A long sigh of relief escaped him as he succeeded. The scuttle +was not locked. + +He paused long enough to glance keenly about him. There was no sign of +another human being, but a sound smote his ear. Someone was moving on the +pebbled roof of the building he had just left. Without an instant's delay +he groped about until his feet touched the rung of a ladder, and drawing +to the scuttle behind him, he made his way down the ladder. + +On reaching the bottom he paused in indecision. He could make out nothing +in the inky blackness, and with every sense alive to danger, he waited. +But apparently his entrance had disturbed no one, and taking heart of +grace, he pulled out a tiny flashlight and pressed the button. + +The light revealed a large attic partly filled with trunks and worn +furniture. A large wine closet, the bottles shining as the light fell on +them through the slat partition, occupied one part of the attic, while a +wall partition, with closed door, ran across the entire western side. To +his right, the man made out the head of a narrow staircase. He was making +his way to the staircase when his acute hearing caught the sound of a +softly closing door on the floor below and approaching footsteps. + +Casting a hunted look about him, he spied a closed closet door. He doused +his light while making his way to the closet, and jerked open the door, +at the same time throwing out his right hand, the better to judge the +depth of the dark closet. His groping fingers closed on cold steel. His +heart lost a throb, then raced madly on, as he clung weakly to the metal. +An elevator shaft, and he had mistaken it for prison bars! + +For a second his chilled body was shaken with hysterical desire for +laughter; then his strong will conquered. He had not forgotten the +advancing footsteps. A desperate situation required desperate chances. +Stepping back he closed the outer door of the elevator shaft and pressed +the button for the elevator. Which would reach him first--the person +creeping upstairs or the automatic electric elevator? + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +A SINISTER DISCOVERY + + +Mrs. Whitney sat up in bed and contemplated her husband reproachfully as +he entered her room. + +"Have you been working all night?" she inquired. + +Whitney nodded absently as he stooped to kiss her. "Now, don't worry, +dear; work will not injure me. I've just had a cold shower and feel ten +per cent better, and all ready for my breakfast. You are the one who +looks tired; that's a very becoming cap you are wearing, but you need +more color here," pinching her cheek. "I don't like to see you so pale. +Were the Sisters in Unity as strenuous as ever?" + +"Just about--but, Oh, Winslow, I was elected...." + +"That was a foregone conclusion, you modest child." Again Whitney kissed +her. "Congratulations, my darling, though why you should want it...." + +Mrs. Whitney laughed good-naturedly. "I'm too happy today to argue the +question," she broke in. + +"Kiametia Grey frightened us all last night by fainting ..." + +"Fainting! Kiametia? I thought she was as tough as a horse?" + +"So she is usually, but she has been doing too much socially, and late +hours do not agree with a woman of her years." + +"She isn't so old," protested Whitney. + +"She is older than I, and I'm not so young," Mrs. Whitney, whose years +sat lightly upon her, jerked a dainty dressing-gown about her shoulders. +"Kiametia did faint and when she came to, declared it was the overheated +atmosphere of the rooms and the continuous talking which had upset her." + +"Well, you must admit, Minna, the Sisters are famous for noisy +discussions. Kiametia is generally able to hold up her end of an +argument. I am sorry she had to give in to superior numbers," Whitney +laughed. "You'll never convince me that she fainted." + +"She did, too; and felt so badly that I persuaded her not to go home, but +to spend the remainder of the night in our blue bedroom." + +"Good heavens!" Whitney gazed blankly at his wife. "Did she--did ..." + +"No, she did not stay there," pausing dramatically. "She found Sinclair +Spencer sound asleep in the bed." She waited expectantly for her +husband's comment, but getting no reply, she burst out, "What was he +doing there--how came he to be there?" + +"I was foolish enough to offer him whiskey." Her husband seated himself +carefully on the edge of the bed, "Spencer had been drinking before he +came to see me, and a very little more made him tipsy. I was fearful that +if I took him downstairs he would try and break up your meeting, so +persuaded him to go and lie down on the bed in the blue room." + +"Sometimes, Winslow, for a thoughtful man, you ball things up +dreadfully," sighed Mrs. Whitney. "Why did you select that room? You +always put your friends in the hall bedroom." + +"Never gave the matter of the rooms a thought." Whitney moved restlessly; +he hated to see a woman cry, and his wife looked perilously upon the +point of tears. In spite of his assertion that he did not miss the loss +of sleep, his nerves were not under full control. Ordinarily not a +drinking man, he had stopped on his way from his bedroom to help himself +to the small amount of Scotch left in the bottle. + +"Such a scene as I had with Kiametia," groaned Mrs. Whitney sighing +dismally at the recollection. "Finally, I convinced her that I knew +nothing of Mr. Spencer's presence, and she consented to sleep in the +hall bedroom." + +"I'm glad Kiametia discovered Spencer in time." His chuckle developing +into a laugh, Whitney rose and walked to the door. "It's no crying +matter, my dear. Kiametia will be the first to enjoy the joke." + +"If it had been anyone but Sinclair Spencer!" Mrs. Whitney shook her head +forlornly. "She has developed an intense dislike for him." + +"And Kiametia is usually a woman of discernment." His sarcasm passed +unheeded, and he opened the hall door. "Hurry and dress, Minna, I'll wait +for you in the dining-room. Heavens! What's that?" + +A muffled cry, long drawn out, agonizing, vibrated through the stillness. + +Spellbound, husband and wife eyed each other, then Whitney stepped into +the hall just as Miss Kiametia tore out of her bedroom. + +"What is it?" she demanded. "Oh, stop it, stop it!" clapping her hands +over her ears as the cry rose again. + +"It comes from the elevator shaft, sir," panted Vincent, appearing up the +stairs, Henry, the chauffeur, close at his heels. Without moving, Whitney +stared stupidly at the two servants, and it was Henry who laid a +trembling finger on the elevator button. As they heard the automatic car +come to a standstill on the other side of the closed mahogany door there +was a second's pause; then Miss Kiametia, summoning all her fortitude, +laid her hand on the door knob and pulled it open. A horrified +exclamation escaped her as her eyes fell upon Kathleen, whose bloodless +face was pressed against the iron grating of the inner door, to which she +was clinging for support. + +"Let me out," she pleaded, her eyes dark with horror. "Let me out." + +At sight of his daughter Whitney recovered himself. "Stand back, +Kathleen," he directed. "Then we can slide open the door." He had to +repeat his words twice before she took in their meaning. Releasing her +hold upon the grating, she covered her face as if to shut out some +terrifying spectacle. As Henry pushed back the door, she collapsed into +her father's arms. + +"Bring Kathleen in here," called Mrs. Whitney from her doorway, where she +had stood, too frightened to move. "There are smelling salts on my +bureau. What can have brought on this attack of hysterics, Kiametia?" + +"The Lord knows. Perhaps the machinery's out of order and she's been +stuck between floors." The spinster, suddenly remembering her extremely +light attire, backed toward her room. + +Whitney, reentering the hall, caught her words. "Go to Kathleen, Minna; +she asked for you," and as his wife turned back into her bedroom, he +added, "See if there is anything wrong with the elevator, Henry." + +Obediently the chauffeur stepped through the narrow entrance to the +elevator and into the steel cage. The next instant he turned an ashy face +toward his companions. + +"Look!" he gasped. "Look!" And his shaking hand pointed to that part of +the elevator concealed by the solid wall of the shaft from the view of +those standing in the hall. With one accord they crowded into the +elevator, and a stricken silence prevailed. + +Crouching on the floor at the far end of the shallow cage was Sinclair +Spencer. The rays of the overhead electric lamp, by which the cage was +lighted, showed plainly the gash in his throat, while crimson stains on +his white shirt added to the ghastly tableau. Death was stamped upon the +marble whiteness of his upturned face. + +"Good God!" Whitney reeled back and but for Vincent's arm would +have fallen. + +"Here, sir, sit here, sir," and the butler half lifted him to a chair in +the hall. "Go get whiskey, Henry," noting the pallor of Whitney's face. +"Quick, man!" + +"Telephone for a doctor, Vincent," directed Miss Kiametia, pulling +herself together. She had been the first to bolt out of the elevator. "I +will stay with Mr. Whitney until you get back," and flashing her a +grateful look, the butler, relieved to have responsibility taken from his +shoulders, fled downstairs after Henry. + +Miss Kiametia laid trembling hands on Whitney's bowed shoulders. + +"It's awful, Winslow," she stammered. "Awful!" + +As he paid no attention to her, but stared vacantly at the floor before +him, she paced to and fro, always careful, however, never to go in the +direction of the elevator. The exercise brought back some semblance of +self-control, and her eyes were beginning to take on their wonted snap +when Whitney rose unsteadily and stepped toward the elevator. Miss +Kiametia's voice stopped him on its threshold. + +"I wouldn't go in there again," she advised. "Wait until the +coroner comes." + +"The coroner?" staring stupidly at her. + +"Yes, hadn't you better send for him?" + +Whitney's hands dropped to his side with a hopeless gesture. "The +coroner," he muttered. "God help us!" + +"Winslow!" Mrs. Whitney appeared in the doorway, tears streaming down +her white cheeks. "Kathleen is completely unnerved; come and help me +quiet her." + +At that moment Henry arrived, tray in hand. "I couldn't find the whiskey, +sir," he explained, breathless with hurry. "But here's some cognac, sir. +Let me pour it out," and he handed a filled liqueur glass to Whitney, who +swallowed the stimulant at a gulp. + +"Shouldn't mind having some of that myself," announced Miss Kiametia. +"Bring the tray here, Henry," walking over to a table. "And, Winslow, +take a glass to Kathleen; it will do her good. Henry, did Vincent +telephone for the doctor?" she added below her breath, as Whitney and his +wife disappeared in the latter's bedroom and closed the door. + +"Yes, Miss Grey, but he was out. So Vincent rang up the hospital and +the coroner." + +"Good." Miss Kiametia debated a moment whether or not to take more +cognac, and ended by refilling her glass. "Stay right in this hall, +Henry; don't leave it for a moment until the doctor comes. I'm going in +to dress." + +As the door closed behind the spinster, Henry stood in deep thought, then +pouring out a glass of cognac he hastily drank it. Setting down the +glass, he tiptoed over to the elevator, but one look at the still figure +crouching with head thrown back and sightless eyes turned to the ceiling +sent him back into the center of the hall. Drawing out his handkerchief, +he mopped his damp forehead. + +From Mrs. Whitney's bedroom came the murmur of voices, and Henry, +darting a quick, searching look about the empty hall, slipped over to +the door and applied his ear to the keyhole. The sound of approaching +footsteps and voices warned him of the arrival of the physician, and +when Vincent appeared, followed by two men, he was standing on guard +near the elevator shaft. + +A quick word of explanation sufficed, and then the younger of the +newcomers entered the elevator. He recoiled at sight of Spencer, then +advancing tested the dead man's pulse and heart. + +"This is a case for you, Penfield," he exclaimed backing out into the +hall, and without a word the coroner took his place beside Spencer. The +young physician turned to Vincent. "Didn't you tell me that someone was +ill and required medical assistance? Mr. Spencer is dead; I can do +nothing for him." + +Without answering, Vincent tapped on Mrs. Whitney's door, and Whitney's +voice bade him enter. "Dr. Hall, sir," announced the butler. "Want him to +come in, sir?--Yes, sir; this way, Doctor," and he pulled to the door +after the physician. The elevator drew Vincent's eyes as a magnet draws +steel, and he started violently at sight of the coroner beckoning to him +from its entrance. + +"Call up Police Headquarters," directed Penfield. "Tell them I am here, +and ask to have Detective Mitchell and three plain-clothes men sent over +at once. Be quick about it," and his peremptory tone caused the agitated +butler to hasten his usually leisurely gait. Henry started to follow him, +but the coroner called him back. "Explain to me exactly what happened +when Mr. Spencer was found," he said, stepping into the hall. + +The tale lost nothing in Henry's telling, and Penfield was gnawing his +fingernails, a trick he had if perplexed, when Vincent escorted the +detective and plain-clothes policemen into the hall. The coroner rose +with alacrity. + +"Glad you could come, Mitchell," he said. "Let me put you in possession +of all facts so far known," and he repeated all that Henry had told him. +Mitchell listened in silence; only the gleam in his eyes attested his +interest, as his face remained expressionless. And that gleam deepened as +he stepped into the elevator and examined Spencer. When he came out he +was wrapping his handkerchief around a knife. Exchanging a glance with +the coroner, he turned to Vincent. + +"Show my men over the house," he directed, "and you," addressing +Henry, "inform Mr. Whitney that Coroner Penfield and I would like to +see him at once." + +"I am here." Whitney, who had entered the hall unnoticed a second before, +joined the group. "What can I do for you?" + +"Answer a few questions," and Penfield, observing the strain under which +he was laboring, pushed a chair in his direction. "Sit down, Mr. +Whitney." He turned back to Henry. "You need not wait," and the chauffeur +reluctantly went down the stairs. The coroner waited an appreciable +moment before again speaking to Whitney. "Was Mr. Spencer visiting you?" +he questioned. + +"Only for the night." + +"When did you see him last?" + +"About midnight." + +"And where was that?" + +"In the bedroom across the way," pointing to it, and the detective +crossed the hall and entered the room, the door of which was closed. + +"And what was Mr. Spencer doing the last time you saw him?" asked the +coroner, with quiet persistence. + +"Falling asleep," tersely. "Spencer was drunk," added Whitney after a +pause. "His behavior led me to believe that he would intrude upon my +wife's guests if he went downstairs, so I suggested that he spend the +night here." Whitney drew a long breath, "Is Spencer really dead?" + +"Yes." + +Whitney shrank back in his chair; he had aged in the past hour, and he +was conscious that his hands were trembling. "I feared so," he muttered, +"I feared so. Can"--clearing his throat--"can Spencer be moved?" + +"Not just yet; there are certain formalities to be gone through with +first." Penfield paused to make an entry in his notebook. "Of course, +there will be an autopsy--at the morgue. Oh, Mitchell," as the detective +returned, "have you any questions to ask Mr. Whitney?" + +Before answering the detective drew up a chair near Whitney. "I am +told your daughter's screams aroused the household," he said. "Can I +see Miss Whitney?" + +"No, you must wait until she is composed; the doctor is just +administering an opiate," replied Whitney hastily. "Kathleen has been +through a most harrowing experience." + +"I see." Mitchell drummed impatiently on the arm of his chair. Whitney +eyed the two men askance. Their manner, combined with the events of the +morning, was telling on him. At any price he must break the silence--he +could endure it no longer. + +"I wish to God," he exclaimed, "Spencer had chosen any other spot to kill +himself in than our elevator!" + +The coroner was the first to reply. "The wound was not self-inflicted." + +"What!" Whitney sprang to his feet. "Do you mean--Spencer was murdered?" + +"Yes." Both men never moved their gaze from Whitney's ashen face. "Were +all members of your family on good terms with Mr. Spencer?" + +"They were," Whitney moistened his parched lips, and only the detective +caught his furtive glance behind him. + +"Did anyone beside your immediate family spend last night in this house, +Mr. Whitney?" he asked. + +"No--yes," confusedly. "Miss Kiametia Grey...." + +"Winslow"--Mrs. Whitney, fully dressed, stepped into the hall from her +boudoir. "Pardon me," with a courteous inclination of her head as the +coroner and Mitchell rose. "Winslow, I've asked the servants, and they +tell me she has disappeared...." + +"She? Who?" chorused the three men. + +"Julie, my French maid." + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +HIDE AND SEEK + + +Charles Miller was generally an early riser, but the head waiter at the +Metropole was surreptitiously scanning his watch before giving the signal +to close the dining-room doors, when the Captain walked in and took his +accustomed seat at a distant table. Miller had but time to glance at the +headline, "Stormy Cabinet Meeting Predicted at White House Today," in his +morning newspaper, when eggs and toast were placed before him. His +attentive waiter poured the hot coffee and placed cream and sugar in his +cup without waiting for instructions. + +"Eggs all right, sir?" he asked anxiously, a trace of accent in his +pleasant voice. + +"Yes, thanks." Miller looked at him casually. "I haven't seen you before; +where's Jenkins?" + +"Transferred to the cafe, sir," smoothing a wrinkle out of the tablecloth +as he spoke. "I'll try to give satisfaction, sir." + +Miller nodded absently. "Oh, it's all right," he said, stifling a yawn, +and propping his newspaper against his coffee pot, ate his breakfast +leisurely, so leisurely that the other habitues of the hotel had finished +their breakfast and departed before he pushed back his chair. Turning, he +signed to his waiter to bring his check, and not appearing to do so, +watched his approach with keen interest. + +"Been a steward, haven't you?" he inquired. + +"Yes, sir." The waiter pocketed the tip with alacrity. "Hamburg-American +Line, sir." + +"Thought so." Miller signed his name with careful attention to each +stroke of the pencil. "How many of you are employed here?" + +"Eight, sir. The lines are tied up; we must have work, and it's hard to +get good berths, sir, with so many ships interned." + +"Quite so," Miller rose. "Your name--?" + +"Lewis. Just a moment, sir," as Miller started to cross the deserted +dining-room, "Shall I reserve the table for you for luncheon, sir?" + +"Luncheon?" Miller reflected. "I rather think not." + +"Thank you, sir." The waiter's manner was apologetic. "I asked, sir, +because, sir, today the Cabinet officers lunch here, and...." + +"They require your undivided attention?" mildly. "I quite +understand--Ludwig." Their eyes met, then Miller turned on his heel. +_"Auf wiedersehen"_ he exclaimed under his breath, and the waiter's +stolid expression changed to one of relief. + +Miller, who had checked his overcoat and hat before entering the +dining-room, wasted no time but entered a public telephone booth. When he +emerged he was whistling cheerily, and the doorkeeper watched him hail a +street car with curious eyes. + +"Always running in and out," he muttered. "It beats me when he sleeps." + +First stopping at a florist's and then a jeweler's establishment, Miller +bent his footsteps toward the Portland, and to his satisfaction found +Senator Foster enjoying a belated breakfast in his apartment. + +"I'm glad to discover a man keeping later hours than I," he remarked, +accepting the chair Foster pulled forward. "You must have an easy +conscience to sleep so late in the morning." + +"Or enjoyed the devil of a night--er--mare." The Senator's face was +flushed and his strong voice husky. "You mistake; this is luncheon, not +breakfast, Keep me company? No?" Foster pecked viciously at his lamb chop. +"I've no appetite at all. Caught a beastly cold at the Sisters in Unity +meeting last night. Cough all the time--beastly climate, Washington." + +"Why stay here?" + +"Oh, Congress...." + +"But that adjourned three weeks ago." + +Foster frowned, then smiled. "A woman's whim--we are not always +independent, Miller"--a shrug completed the sentence. "Change your mind +and have some Scotch?" + +"No, thanks." Miller drew his chair closer to his companion, and lowered +his voice. "I called this morning, Senator, to ask some questions about +Winslow Whitney." + +Foster's smile vanished, and the glance he shot at Miller was sharp. + +"It depends on the questions," he began stiffly, "whether they are +answered or not." + +"Quite right," with unruffled composure. "I shall ask nothing which +cannot be answered with propriety." Miller ceased speaking to light a +cigarette. "All Washington knows Whitney is a man of wealth"--his keen +eyes detected the sudden alteration in Foster's expression--"of standing +in the social and business world, but has he achieved success as an +inventor?" + +"Yes," was the instant and unqualified response, and Miller's eyes +lighted, but it was some seconds before he put another question. + +"Are you familiar with his latest invention?" + +"You mean his camera for use in aeroplanes?" + +"Yes. Do you think it has any hope of success?" + +"I believe so; Whitney declares the experiments are entirely +satisfactory." + +"Have you seen results of the tests?" + +"Whitney showed me views of New York City and its environs taken from an +aeroplane. They were--wonderful--" the Senator puffed nervously at his +cigar--"perfect maps." + +"Indeed?" Miller made no effort to conceal his eager curiosity. "At what +height were they taken?" + +"Ah, that I do not feel at liberty to disclose. How, when, and where this +new camera can be utilized is of interest to all military men; but as +Whitney's friend, I could not divulge details he may desire kept secret, +even if I knew them." + +"Pardon me, I thought you his most intimate friend...." + +"I am, but not his confidant. And as his friend, I cannot discuss his +private affairs with you." + +"I don't agree with you there." Miller tossed his cigarette stub into the +iron grate. "Would it not be a friendly act to place Whitney in a +position to coin money?" + +"Ah, so that is why you take an interest in his invention?" Foster +laid down his cigar and contemplated his companion closely. "You wish +to buy ..." + +"Exactly." + +"Is the purchaser to be the same for whom you are collecting horses and +ammunition?" + +"Yes." + +Foster did not answer at once, and Miller, without seeming to do so, took +silent note of the handsome appointments of the dining-room. The silver +service on the sideboard, the cut-glass decanters and liqueurs seemed +somewhat out of place in a bachelor apartment. Somewhat puzzled, Miller +looked more fully at his host, hoping to find an answer to his unspoken +doubts. Careful of his dress, deportment, and democracy, Foster had early +gained the sobriquet "Dandy," but there was nothing effeminate in his +spare though muscular form, and his long under jaw indicated bull-dog +obstinacy. Confessing to fifty, Foster did not look his age by ten years. + +"I shall have to ponder your question, Miller." As he spoke Foster rose. +"Frankly, I've been striving to interest our Government in Whitney's +invention, and that is one of the things which has kept me in Washington. +Suppose we go and see Whitney now. I know that he is anxious to dispose +of his invention--he is hard pressed for money,'' + +"Indeed!" The pupils of Miller's eyes contracted suddenly. "Possibly +Whitney will give me a hearing, and I need not offer"--he stopped, +looked at his cigarette case, returned it to his pocket, and followed +Foster out of the room--"a large sum," he finished, helping the Senator +into his overcoat. + +Foster laughed shortly. "You will get no bargain. Whitney's politeness is +on the surface; underneath he is as hard as nails, and suspicious--" The +Senator's cough cut short his speech and echoed down the corridor as he +closed the door to his apartment. "Won't even let me look at the camera, +much less let me examine the lens, specifications, drawings, plate, et +cetera. In fact, refused to give me any details, although he knows I must +have the information so as to interest others in his invention." + +"But surely he has had the camera tested thoroughly?" + +"Oh, yes. It has leaked out that the lens is so powerful and the +mechanical parts of the camera so perfect that maps of the country taken +at a remarkable height depict fortifications to the minutest detail. No +one knows the method employed to bring about such a result. That is the +secret locked inside Whitney's studio and his brain. Whitney is a genius, +and unlike others of his ilk, is extremely modest about his own +achievements. He covers his real nature under a mantle of eccentricity. I +doubt if his wife and daughter really gauge his capabilities." A violent +fit of coughing interrupted him, and he did not speak again for some +minutes. As the elevator reached the ground floor, Foster saw his +chauffeur standing near the office. "My car at the door?" he asked, as +the man approached. + +"Yes, sir," touching his cap. "Will you drive, sir?" + +"Not today, too much cold, don't want pneumonia. Jump in, Miller." Foster +signed to him to enter first. "Take us to the Whitneys', Mason," he +directed, and sprang into the tonneau. + +Five minutes later they stopped in front of the Whitney house, and +directing his chauffeur to wait, Foster accompanied Miller up the steps, +but before either could touch the bell, the door was opened by Vincent +whose white face brightened at the sight of the Senator. + +"Step right in, sir," he begged. "The master was just telephoning for +you, sir." Vincent paused and looked doubtfully at Miller. "Did you wish +to see Miss Kathleen, sir?" + +"Yes," taking out his visiting card. + +"Miss Kathleen is sick in bed." Vincent appeared still more confused, but +Foster, standing somewhat in shadow, caught Miller's look of alarm which +the butler missed. + +"What is the matter with Miss Kathleen?" demanded Miller, and there was +no mistaking the feeling in his voice and manner. + +"She had a shock, sir, a most awful shock." While speaking Vincent +tiptoed toward the library; he felt that he could never make a loud noise +in that house again. "An awful shock," he repeated. "We all felt it." + +"What do you mean?" Foster laid an impatient hand on the old +servant's shoulder. + +"Why, sir, he's dead...." + +"Whitney?" The question sprang simultaneously from Foster and Miller. + +"No, no, sir. Mr. Sinclair Spencer, sir. He was murdered"--Vincent +shuddered as the last word crossed his lips. + +His hearers stared stupidly at each other, and then at the butler. "Who +murdered him?" asked Miller, the first to recover speech. + +"We don't know--they say Julie; leastways we only know for positive that +Miss Kathleen was with him ..." + +Miller turned first white then red, and an angry gleam lit his eye as he +stepped nearer the agitated servant. + +"That will do. Go tell Mr. Whitney we are here," and his tone caused +Vincent to hurry away in deep resentment. + +Foster gazed dazedly at Miller. "What can have happened?" he asked. "Was +Spencer so foolish as to bait Winslow ..." + +"Careful," cautioned Miller, his quick ear detecting a footstep in the +adjoining drawing-room. An instant later Miss Kiametia Grey stepped into +the library. + +"Thank goodness you have come," she exclaimed, darting toward Foster. +"I've wanted you so much ..." + +"My darling"--Foster, forgetful of Miller's presence, clasped her hand in +both of his. + +"There--there--this isn't any time for sentiment," and Miss Kiametia's +chilly tone recalled the Senator to the fact that they were not alone. +Looking a trifle foolish, he dropped her hand and stepped back. + +"What can I do for you?" he asked, coldly. "You said you needed me." + +"Well, so I do, as legal adviser," with unflattering emphasis. "Good +morning, Captain Miller; I did not recognize you at first. I suppose you +have both heard of Sinclair Spencer's tragic death." + +"Yes, but none of the particulars," answered Miller. "And also that +Kathleen is ill. Do tell me how she is," and though he strove to conceal +his anxiety, his manner betrayed his emotion to the sharp-eyed spinster. + +"The doctor gave her an opiate," she said quickly. "She will be herself +again when she awakes. Her condition does not worry me." She hesitated, +shot a quick furtive look at Miller's intent face, and added: "But I am +alarmed by the mystery surrounding Sinclair Spencer's death." + +"Tell us the details," urged Foster. + +"Details," echoed the spinster. "There are none. We were awakened this +morning by Kathleen's screams, rushed into the hall and found her in the +elevator with Sinclair Spencer's dead body. She appeared completely +unstrung, could make no coherent statement, and when the doctor came, was +given an opiate." She paused and looked hopelessly at the two men. "We +know no more of the murder than that." + +"We must wait until Kathleen awakens," said Whitney, and Miss Kiametia +started violently at the sound of his voice; so absorbed had the others +been in her remarks that his quiet entrance a few minutes before had +passed unnoticed. "I trust that she will then be more composed." + +"Did she say nothing to you and Minna when you were with her before the +doctor arrived?" questioned Miss Kiametia, smothering her eagerness with +difficulty. + +"Nothing that made sense." Whitney ran his fingers through his gray hair +until it stood upright. "She babbled Spencer's name, alternating with the +moaning cry, '_Kaiser blumen_.'" + +"'_Kaiser blumen_!' What in the world--" The spinster checked her hasty +speech on catching sight of Detective Mitchell loitering just inside the +library door. "Do you want to see Mr. Whitney?" she asked, raising her +voice a trifle, and all turned to face the detective as he advanced +toward them. Bowing gravely to Senator Foster and Captain Miller, +Mitchell stopped opposite the spinster, but his first remark was directed +to Whitney. + +"Your wife tells me, sir, that the French maid, Julie, has been in your +employ over four years." + +"She has," acknowledged Whitney, making no effort to conceal his +impatience. "Will you kindly postpone your questions, Mitchell, until +later; I desire to converse with my friends now." + +"I will intrude but a moment longer." Mitchell slipped one hand inside +his coat pocket. "When will it be convenient, sir, for you to take me +into your studio?" + +Whitney looked at the detective as if he did not believe his ears. + +"Why the devil should I take you through my studio?" he thundered, his +anger rising. "I take no one there--you understand, no one." + +"Pardon me, these are exceptional circumstances. As an officer of the law +it is my duty to examine the entire premises where a crime has been +committed. On reaching your attic, I found the door leading to your +studio locked, and I have come downstairs, sir, to ask you to take me +into that room." + +"And I absolutely refuse." + +"In that case, sir," there was a steely glint in Mitchell's eyes +which betokened trouble, "I shall send for a locksmith and have the +bolt forced." + +"Wait," Foster laid a restraining hand on Whitney's shoulder as the +latter made a hasty step in the detective's direction. "I assure you, +Mitchell, that the so-called studio is Mr. Whitney's workshop; he is, as +you no doubt know, an inventor." Whitney opened his mouth to speak, then +closed his jaws with a snap. "Mr. Whitney is now engaged upon a most +important invention. It is quite natural that he does not wish...." + +"It is hardly a matter of wishes, Mr. Senator," broke in Mitchell. "A +murder has been committed here, and it is imperative that everything be +done to apprehend and convict the criminal." + +"Ha!" Whitney's snort was almost a triumphant challenge. His altered +demeanor did not escape the shrewd eyes watching him so keenly. "So you +think I murdered Spencer?" + +"I have not said what I think," retorted the detective brusquely. "Come, +sir, we are wasting time; take me over your studio at once." + +Whitney's haggard face reddened with anger; twice he opened and shut his +mouth, then thinking better of his first impulse, he turned on his heel. + +"Follow me," he directed ungraciously. As he stepped toward the doorway +he looked back and encountered Miller's intent gaze. The Captain's gray +eyes, their devil-may-care sparkle dampened by anxiety for Kathleen, +broad forehead, and firm mouth inspired confidence. He looked a man whose +word could be relied on. Whitney, harassed by conflicting doubts, and +agonizing apprehensions, acted on impulse. "Come with us, Captain. We'll +be right back, Kiametia; you and Foster wait for us here." + +By common consent the three men avoided the elevator and walked up +stairs. On reaching the attic, Whitney made at once for his studio and +inserting keys in the double lock turned the wards, and opened the door. + +"Go in," he said, and waited until the two men had preceded him in the +room, then entered and closed the door, shooting the inner bolt. The +detective looked around as the faint click of the metal caught his ear. +"Force of habit," explained Whitney. "Hurry and make your examination, +Mitchell; I wish to rejoin my friends downstairs as quickly as possible. +Have a seat, Captain?" + +But Miller declined, and stood watching Mitchell as he made a thorough +search of the apartment. Nothing escaped his attention, and such +furniture as the room boasted was minutely scrutinized, even the Cooper +Hewitt lights and cylinder arc lights being switched on to assist in the +examination. Models, large sink, darkroom, cabinets, tool chest, drawing +tables, and small chemical laboratory were subjected to a thorough +search. Miller's silent wonder grew; nowhere did he perceive a model +resembling a camera, or the camera itself. + +Whitney, sitting astride an ordinary wooden chair, followed the +detective's movements with sardonic amusement, which now and then found +vent in a grim smile. Whitney's expression was not lost upon Miller, who, +finding him a more interesting study than Mitchell, watched him intently +while appearing to be deeply engaged in examining an elevator model. + +"Isn't this the design copied in building your elevator, Mr. +Whitney?" he asked. + +"Yes; that is the model I made when the elevator was built. It was one of +the first installed in a private residence in Washington." + +"It is somewhat different from others that I have seen," commented the +detective, replacing a bottle carefully on a shelf. "The cage is so very +shallow in depth and so long in width." + +"I had to cut my coat according to my cloth," curtly. "This house is very +old and the outer walls are of unusual thickness, also the inner ones, +which accounts for the peculiar shape of the elevator. The brick shaft +had to be built to conform to the walls and staircase. I also invented +that safety air brake catch," he added, as Miller ran the elevator to the +top of the shaft and released the cage with a sudden jerk. The elevator +slipped down a flight, then automatically adjusted itself and stopped. + +"A clever idea," said Miller admiringly. "When I first used your +elevator, Mr. Whitney, I was struck by its unexpected capacity to hold +six people. Its shallowness is deceptive." + +"That's so." Whitney stared at the clock suggestively. "Kathleen, as a +child, used to slip in unseen, and as the majority of the people enter +the elevator facing the floor button plate with their backs to where she +stood, she gave her governesses many scares." + +The detective stopped to examine the elevator model carefully, and +pressed the button marked "Attic." "Persons entering the elevator +instinctively pull to the inner door with their left hand and push the +floor button with the right, and they would be standing with their backs +to where Spencer lay," he said. + +"And anyone could have started the elevator without knowing of his +presence," put in Miller softly, and the detective nodded assent. + +"You have no floor indicator connected with the elevator, Mr. Whitney," +commented Mitchell thoughtfully. + +"No." Whitney rose abruptly. "Finished your search?" Not waiting for a +reply he prepared to leave, and a covert sneer crossed his lips as he +asked, "Found anything criminal?" + +"Only these bottles," indicating the shelves near the laboratory. +"There's enough poison here to kill a regiment." + +"And only for use in photography," Whitney busied himself in adjusting +shades which the detective had raised or lowered the better to see the +room. "Rather a commentary on the laws governing the sale of poisons, +Mitchell; can't buy them at a druggist's, but any man, woman, or child +can go into a photographic supply store and buy any quantity of deadly +poison and no questions asked." + +"Perhaps," was Mitchell's sole comment, as he removed a stopper from a +blue glass bottle and sniffed at its contents. + +"Hm! You are of an inquiring turn of mind." Whitney's eyes contracted +suddenly. "May I remind you that Spencer, whose death you are +investigating, was stabbed." + +"With a dull knife," answered Mitchell, setting down the bottle. "And it +must have taken muscular force to drive the knife home." + +Whitney was suddenly conscious of both men's full regard, and his thin, +wiry figure stiffened. His eyes snapped with pent-up feeling. + +"Is a man to be convicted of crime because it is physically possible for +him to commit murder?" he demanded harshly, and not waiting for an answer +unbolted the door. "I fear, Mitchell, you have wasted both my time and +yours. Remember this, sir." He stepped directly in front of the +detective. "Those making a charge must prove it. Now go." + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +A QUESTION OF LOYALTY + + +Miss Kiametia Grey waited until the sound of Whitney's, Miller's and the +detective's footsteps had died away down the hall before addressing +Senator Foster. + +"Suppose we sit over there," she suggested, indicating a large +leather sofa, and not waiting for his assent, walked over to it and +seated herself. + +The sofa stood with its back to one of the windows, and from its broad +seat its occupants would have a complete view of the attractive library +with its massive furniture, huge old-fashioned chimney, and +bookcase-lined walls. Foster, following Miss Kiametia, was startled by a +glimpse of her face as she stepped into the sunlight whose merciless rays +betrayed the new lines about her closely compressed lips. A touch of +rouge enhanced her pallor. Suddenly conscious of his intent regard she +seated herself, turning her back squarely to the light. + +"Sit there," she exclaimed pettishly, pointing to a Morris chair which +stood close to the sofa. "I prefer to have the person I'm talking to +face me." Without remark Foster made himself comfortable, first, however, +pulling down the shade to protect his eyes from the glare of sunlight. + +"We can't be overheard," began Miss Kiametia. "At least I don't think we +can," and her sharp glance roved inquiringly about the room. "What was +Sinclair Spencer doing in that elevator?" + +"Going downstairs," hazarded the Senator, "or up." + +"Or waiting." + +"Eh?" Foster shot a quick look at her. "Waiting? What for?" + +"That is what we have to discover," and Miss Kiametia sat back and folded +her hands. + +"Yours is hardly a reasonable supposition. People do not usually wait in +elevators, Kiametia." + +"There's no law against it," was her tart reply. "I have very good reason +to believe Spencer was _not_ going out of the house." + +"May I ask what that reason is?" + +"He wore no shoes," and for an instant a smile hovered on her lips as she +caught his startled expression. She was woman enough to enjoy creating a +sensation, and it was not often that she surprised the Senator. + +"Is that so!" he exclaimed thoughtfully. "That puts a somewhat different +complexion on the matter." + +"It does. Why was Sinclair Spencer gallivanting about this house in his +stocking feet?" + +Foster played with his watch chain. "Upon my word, I don't know," he +replied at last. + +"Well, you might hazard a guess." But Foster's only answer was a negative +shake of his head. "Pshaw! use your imagination--suppose Spencer was +unduly inquisitive about Winslow's invention--" + +"Stop, Kiametia!" Foster held up a warning hand. "You are treading on +dangerous ground. Be sure of your facts before suggesting that a man of +Winslow's known integrity is involved in--murder." + +"How you men do jump at conclusions," grumbled Miss Kiametia. "I believe +Julie, the maid, killed Spencer because she found him snooping around +where he had no business to be." + +"Why should the maid play watchdog?" + +"Because she's French, stupid; and I believe, firmly believe, Sinclair +Spencer was in the pay of Germany. Both he and the maid were after +Winslow's invention, one to steal, the other to protect." + +"You have astonishing theories." Foster leaned back and regarded her in +silence, then resumed, "Suppose you give me an exact account of what +transpired this morning." + +He listened with rapt attention to the spinster's graphic description of +the finding of Kathleen and Sinclair Spencer in the elevator. + +"Strange, very strange," he muttered, as she brought the recital to an +end. "How did Kathleen come to enter the elevator without seeing its +occupant?" + +"You take it for granted that Spencer was dead at that time?" asked +the spinster. + +A look of horror crept into Foster's eyes. "Kiametia, what do you mean to +insinuate? Your question implies--" + +"Nothing," hastily. "I only want you, with your sane common sense, to +kill an intolerable doubt. Kathleen cannot--_cannot_ know anything of +this crime." + +"If you doubt, why not ask Kathleen how and when she came to be in the +elevator with Spencer's dead body?" + +"Kathleen is still under the effects of the opiate, and you heard what +Winslow said a few minutes ago about her behavior before the +physician's arrival." + +"Don't worry." Foster laid a soothing hand on hers. "Kathleen's condition +is not surprising under the circumstances; the shock of finding +Spencer's dead body was quite enough to produce hysteria and irrational +conduct. When herself, her explanations will clear up the mystery. +Therefore, why harbor a doubt of her innocence?" + +"If you had seen the expression of her eyes," exclaimed Miss Kiametia. +"It betrayed more than shock and horror. If ever I saw mental anguish +depicted, a naked soul in torment, I saw it then. God help the child!" +She paused and stared at Foster. "Why should Kathleen betray such +emotion? Sinclair Spencer was less than nothing to her." + +"He was very attentive," said Foster slowly. "I have even heard it +reported last fall that they were engaged." + +"Engaged? Fiddlesticks!" Miss Kiametia's head went up in a style +indicative of battle. "Imagine Kathleen caring for a man who openly +boasted he had held the best blood of America in his arms--she isn't that +kind of girl!" + +"Come, Spencer wasn't so unattractive," protested Foster. "I hold no +brief for him; in fact, some of his business transactions were shady; but +upon my word, he was exceedingly good-looking, and if I remember rightly, +you encouraged him to come to your apartment." + +"I've done some remarkably stupid things occasionally," said Miss +Kiametia composedly. "That was one of them." + +"Kiametia!" called a voice in the hallway, and the next moment the +portieres parted and Mrs. Whitney walked into the library. "Oh, there you +are, my dear; I feared you had gone. I am so glad to see you, Senator," +clasping Foster's extended hand warmly. "Winslow and I both hoped you +could come to us. We want your advice." + +"I am entirely at your disposal." As he spoke, Foster dragged forward a +comfortable chair. "Sit here, Mrs. Whitney; you look quite done up," and +his sympathetic tone and manner brought tears to her hot, tired eyes. + +"It is such a comfort to see two such dear friends," she said, looking +gratefully at them. "And to talk to you openly, away from those dreadful +detectives. I haven't had an opportunity to speak privately to Winslow. +Detective Mitchell is his shadow." + +"A little brief authority," Foster shrugged his shoulders. "How is +Kathleen?" + +"Sleeping, thank God!" Mrs. Whitney lowered her voice. "I really feared +for her reason before the doctor came. I could not soothe her, or quiet +her wild weeping." She stopped to glance hastily over her shoulder. +"Vincent said something about Captain Miller having called--is the +Captain here?" + +"He has gone upstairs with your husband and Detective Mitchell," answered +Foster. "Tell me, Mrs. Whitney, was Sinclair Spencer visiting you for any +length of time?" + +"Oh, no; his stopping here last night was quite unexpected; in fact so +unexpected to me that I accidentally put Kiametia in the same room +with him." + +"I didn't stay there," hastily ejaculated the spinster, crimsoning. "The +moment I saw him in bed, I fled." + +"Was he asleep?" questioned Foster; Miss Kiametia had not told him these +details in her description of events at the Whitney residence. + +"I presume so; his eyes were closed--thank goodness!" she added under +her breath, and quickly changed the subject "Any news of Julie's +whereabouts, Minna?" + +"Apparently not; I telephoned to Police Headquarters half an hour ago, +and the desk sergeant said they had found no trace of her." + +"Where is your maid's bedroom, Mrs. Whitney?" asked Foster. + +"She rooms with the cook on the third floor." + +"What does the cook say about Julie's disappearance?" + +"She is as mystified as the rest of us; declares Julie went to bed at the +same time she did, and that when she awoke this morning, the covers on +Julie's bed were thrown back. Thinking Julie had preceded her downstairs, +she dressed and attended to her usual duties. It was not until I rang for +Julie that the other servants realized that none of them had seen her +this morning. Not one, apparently, has the faintest idea as to when she +disappeared, and where." + +"So!" ejaculated Foster unbelievingly. "I imagine the police will jog +their memories." + +"Let us hope they will succeed in finding Julie," snapped Miss Kiametia. +"I confess the situation is getting on my nerves. If she committed the +murder, she should suffer for it. If not, she should come forward and +prove her innocence." + +"It is essential that Julie be found," agreed Foster. "For my +part, I...." + +"Beg pardon, sir," and Vincent approached. "This note has just come for +you," presenting his silver salver to the Senator. "There's no answer, +sir. The clerk at the Portland sent the messenger here with it, as it was +marked 'Immediate.'" + +With a word of apology to his companions, Foster tore open the envelope +and hastily scanned the written lines. + +"I must leave at once," he announced, carefully placing the note in his +leather wallet. "I had forgotten entirely that I had an important +business engagement. Please tell Winslow, Mrs. Whitney, that I will come +back this evening; and you must both count on me if there is anything I +can do for you." + +"Won't you wait for Captain Miller?" asked Miss Kiametia, concealing her +disappointment at the abrupt termination of the interview. + +"Miller? I'm afraid not. Please tell him I was called away and that I +leave my touring car at his service." + +"If you plan to do that, may I get your chauffeur to take me home?" asked +Miss Kiametia quickly. + +"Why, of course; I only wish that I could accompany you." Foster +wavered, he desired most ardently to see the spinster alone, but the +note was urgent, and considering the source, could not be ignored. +"Good-bye." Shaking hands warmly with Mrs. Whitney and Miss Kiametia, he +hastily departed. + +Foster's appointment consumed over an hour, and on leaving the +government building where it had taken place, he walked aimlessly through +the city streets, so deep in thought that he gave no heed to the +direction he was taking. His absorption blinded him to the appearance of +an inconspicuously dressed, heavily veiled woman who, at sight of him, +shrank back under cover of the archway leading to a movie theater, until +he had passed safely up the street. She was about to step out on the +sidewalk again when the sight of a man walking rapidly down the street in +the direction Foster had disappeared, caused her to remain in partial +concealment. The woman peered at the last man irresolutely, while +pretending to examine a gaudy, flaring poster of the movie, one hand +pressed to her rapidly beating heart. Coming to a sudden decision, she +hastened after him, and nearing an intersecting street, overtook him. + +"Captain Miller," she called timidly, and at sound of his name, Miller +turned toward her. + +"Yes?" his hand raised toward his hat at sight of a woman. "You +called me?" + +"Yes, Captain." She drew nearer. "You do not recognize me, but"--sinking +her voice--"I am Julie." + +"Julie?" he echoed. + +"_Oui, monsieur_," in rapid French. "Mademoiselle Kathleen's maid. Ah, +monsieur, for the love you bear her, advise _me_ now. It is for her sake, +not for mine." + +The Captain eyed her intently. "I don't catch your meaning," he said, in +her native tongue. + +"You have surely heard, Captain, of the death of that devil, +Spencer"--Behind her veil, the Frenchwoman's eyes sparkled with rage. +"Well, Captain, his death was--justified." + +"I have no doubt of it," agreed her companion. "But, in the eyes of the +law, it will be termed...." + +"Murder." Her white lips barely formed the word, and she glanced +fearfully behind her. Her half-conscious action recalled the Captain to +their surroundings, and he, too, glanced up the street. Apparently they +had it to themselves; in that unfrequented part of the city there were +few passers-by. The Captain's eyes narrowed; he preferred never to be +conspicuous; a crowded street was more to his liking. + +"Suppose we move on," he suggested, but the Frenchwoman held back. + +"I have spent all the morning at the moving pictures," she said. "There +it is dark. Let us find another." + +"Very well; we can talk as we go," and the Captain suited his step to +hers. "And suppose also that we confine our remarks to English." + +"As monsieur pleases." She half repented her impulsive act. She had +intrusted her secret to another. Would that other prove loyal? A faint +shiver crept down her spine, and she pressed one mitted hand over the +other. "I seek seclusion, monsieur, because--I know too much." + +"'A little knowledge'"--the Captain did not finish the quotation. "Let us +turn down here," and not waiting for her consent, he piloted her up a +side street. "You do not, then, wish to make a confidant of the police?" + +"_Non, non, monsieur_," lapsing again into rapid French. "I think only of +Mademoiselle." + +A sudden gleam lighted the Captain's eyes. "Kathleen," his voice lingered +on her name. "You think she is in danger?" + +"I do, monsieur, in great danger. Did I not see"--she paused in her +hasty speech and bit her tongue; one indiscretion was leading to another. +"It matters not what I saw, monsieur--I am sometimes nearsighted." + +"In that case, your eyes will be examined if testifying in a trial for +murder," and he smiled covertly as he saw the fear tugging at her +heart-strings. "Enough, Julie; I will respect your confidences. You +know--how, I do not inquire--of my deep affection for Mademoiselle +Kathleen...." + +"Who would not love her?" broke in Julie passionately. "So generous, so +fearless and loyal! Ah! she will be faithful to France--she will guard +her father's secret--aye, even to the bitter end." + +"Hush! not so loud," admonished the Captain, laying a steadying hand on +her arm. "Let me think a moment." Totally unconscious of the tears which +fell one by one on her white cheeks, the excited Frenchwoman kept step +with him in silence for three blocks; then the Captain roused himself. +"You are willing to shield Mademoiselle Kathleen at all costs?" he asked. + +"_Oui, monsieur._" + +"And you think you can best accomplish that result by avoiding the +police?" + +"_Oui, monsieur_." + +"Have you money?" + +"A little, monsieur." She turned her troubled countenance toward him. "I +cannot travel far." + +"It is wiser not to travel at all." The Captain slackened his walk before +an unpretentious red brick residence. "The landlady of this house takes +paying guests and asks no questions. Here you can remain _perdue_," with +emphasis, "and no one inside will trouble you; but be cautious, Julie, +how you venture on the street day or night." + +"But, monsieur"--Julie drew back--"I do not fear for myself, only for +mademoiselle, and I like not to be indoors all day. The police, they will +only trouble me with questions should I return to the Whitneys." + +"If you do not return to the Whitneys, Julie, the police will think +you guilty." + +"Me, monsieur?" + +"Yes." + +"But--but--" stammered the Frenchwoman, overwhelmed. "I have committed no +crime. I but left because I could not bear to tell what I know." + +"Your departure is construed as a confession of guilt." The Captain bent +his handsome face nearer hers. "It is only a question, Julie, of the +depth of your affection for Mademoiselle Kathleen. Are you willing to +shield her at all costs?" + +The Frenchwoman faltered for a second, then drew herself proudly erect. +"_Oui, monsieur_. Mademoiselle was kind to me when I lost all--my lover, +my brothers died for France. There is no one who cares for me now but +mademoiselle. I shall not betray her." + +"Good!" The Captain wrung her hand. "Come," and he led the way into +the house. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +THE GAME, "I SPY" + + +Barely pausing to dip his pen in the inkstand, Charles Miller covered +sheet after sheet of thin paper with his fine legible writing. As he +reached the final word he laid down his pen and stretched his cramped +fingers and gently rubbed one hand over the other. For the first time +conscious of the chill atmosphere, he rose and moved about the room. +Stopping before the steam heater to turn it on, he walked back to his +desk and carefully read what he had written, correcting a phrase here and +there. Finally satisfied with the result, he selected an envelope and +placing the papers inside, sealed and addressed it. For a second he held +the envelope poised over the unstained blotting-paper, then raising it +gently, breathed on the still wet ink. At last convinced that it was dry, +he placed the envelope in the pocket of his bathrobe, and picking up his +pajamas went into the bathroom which opened out of his bedroom, and +closed the door. + +Five seconds, fifteen seconds passed, then the long curtains before the +window alcove gently parted and a man looked into the empty room. With +head and shoulders protruding he waited until the sound of running water +reached his ears, then advanced softly into the room. The desk was his +objective point, and his nimble fingers made quick work of sorting its +meager contents. His search was unrewarded; there was not a scrap of +incriminating writing in any drawer, and the neat pile of blotting-paper +was untouched. + +The intruder's expression altered; curiosity gave way to doubt. Without +wasting time he replaced every article where he found it, pausing +occasionally to listen to the sound of splashing coming from behind the +closed bathroom door. Convinced there was no immediate danger of +interruption from that quarter, he walked swiftly to the closet and +minutely examined Miller's clothing. Just as he was leaving the closet a +box-shaped leather bag marked "Underwood" attracted his attention, and +pushing aside a bundle of soiled underclothing, he knelt down and +inserted a skeleton key in the lock, and after a second's work, forced +back the wards and opened the lid of the box. The typewriter it contained +proved uninteresting, and putting back everything as he had found it, he +returned to the window by which he had entered. Pushing it open, he +climbed out on the ledge and, closing the window behind him, by the aid +of ropes swung himself over to a near-by fire escape and disappeared +inside a room opening from it. + +The slight sound occasioned by the closing of his bedroom window was +drowned in Miller's cheery whistle as he emerged from the bathroom. +Refreshed and invigorated by his bath, he switched off the lights and +climbed into bed. + +The sunlight was streaming in the windows when he awoke, and it was a +full minute before his sleepy senses grasped the fact that someone was +pounding on the hall door. Hastily donning his bathrobe, he turned the +key and opened the door. Henry, the Whitneys' chauffeur, was standing on +the threshold. + +"May I have a word with you, sir?" he asked. + +"Certainly, come in," and Miller, conscious of his neglige attire and +that two pretty women were passing down the hall, precipitously retreated +into his bedroom. "Shut the door after you." He waited until his order +had been followed, then demanded impetuously: "How is Miss Kathleen?" + +"Better, sir." + +"Thank God!" The fervid exclamation escaped him unwittingly, and a faint +tinge of red stained his cheeks as he met Henry's attentive regard. "Did +you give her my note?" + +"I sent it to her by the nurse, sir; Miss Kathleen still keeps her room," +said Henry respectfully. "Vincent tells me that she refused even to see +her mother and father." + +"Have you an answer for me?" as the servant paused. + +"The nurse came to the kitchen and gave me these"--pulling a letter and +package out of his pocket--"to deliver personally to you, sir; Miss +Kathleen asked to have them sent at once." + +Taking them Miller examined the addresses; the note was the one he had +written Kathleen, and the package bore the label of a prominent jeweler, +upon which was written Kathleen's full name in Miller's handwriting. Both +were unopened. Miller placed them in his pocket with unmoved face. + +"Why did you not deliver them to me last night?" he asked curtly. + +"I started to, sir, but seeing you walking with Baron von Fincke down +Massachusetts Avenue, sir, I...." Henry's eyes wavered and fell before +Miller's scrutiny. + +"Followed me?" prompted the latter, bending forward. + +"Only a little way"--quickly. "I did not like to intrude, sir, and by +following hoped to get a chance to give you Miss Kathleen's package and +note. I lost sight of you at Thomas Circle, sir, and went home. That is +the gospel truth, sir, as sure as my name is--Heinrich." + +Miller viewed the chauffeur in silence. "So!" he exclaimed, and a pleased +smile brightened his face. "Naturalized, or born in this country?" + +"Born here, sir, of naturalized parents." The chauffeur twisted his cap +nervously. "German-American, sir." + +"There is no such thing, Heinrich." Miller's voice deepened. "The hyphen +cannot be recognized. You are either American or German." + +The chauffeur straightened himself, and his heels clicked together as he +raised his hand in salute. + +"Hoch der Kaiser!" + +The words were echoed by Miller as he sprang forward and grasped the +chauffeur's hand. "For the Fatherland!" he added in German. "Why have you +not declared yourself before?" + +"Until last night, Herr Captain, I was not absolutely sure you were one +of us. But later in the evening Baron von Fincke...." + +"Stood sponsor for me," finished Miller, thrusting his hand in his pajama +pocket, and thereby pushing an envelope still deeper in it. "What have +you to report? Wait, speak English; the walls have ears." + +The chauffeur whitened and moved closer to Miller. "Was Mr. Spencer in +your confidence?" + +"No." + +"And the Baron did not trust him," said Heinrich, reflectively. "If he +was not one of us, how came he to be killed?" + +"God knows." Miller threw out his hands in a hopeless gesture. "I don't." + +"But there must be some motive for the crime," argued the chauffeur. +"Miss Kathleen must have suspected something before taking ..." Powerful +hands on his throat choked his utterance. + +"Never mention Miss Kathleen's name in that connection again," commanded +Miller, his voice low and stern. "You hear me, you dog!" and he shook +Heinrich until his teeth rattled, then released him. + +"Pardon," gasped the badly frightened man. "I meant no offense." + +"See that you follow my instructions hereafter." + +"Yes, sir"--Heinrich caressed his throat tenderly, and looked at Miller +with a new respect. "I was only going to mention, sir, that Mr. Spencer +meddled in what did not concern him. I believe he suspected what I have +come to believe." + +"And what is that?" + +"That this photography business is only a blind." + +"A blind?" Miller looked thoughtfully at his companion. "Suppose you pull +up a chair; wait, first hang your cap over the keyhole of the hall door." +While waiting for Heinrich to follow his instructions Miller seated +himself. "A blind?" he repeated. "No, no, Heinrich, you are mistaken; Mr. +Whitney has invented a very perfect aeroplane camera, of that I am +thoroughly convinced. And our country needs it...." + +"Undoubtedly, sir," Heinrich almost stuttered in his growing excitement. +"But he has invented something that we need more...." + +"What is that?" + +"I don't know, sir." + +Miller, who had been leaning forward in his eagerness, drew back. "Don't +waste my time, Heinrich," he said roughly. + +"Your time won't be wasted," protested the German. "Have patience and let +me explain. I cannot manage this affair alone, I need assistance--and +--you are a frequent caller at the Whitney house...." + +"Well, what then?" + +"Mr. Whitney may be persuaded to take you to his studio ..." the +chauffeur hesitated. + +"Proceed," directed Miller shortly. "You can count on me." + +"Good," the chauffeur hitched his chair closer. "Day before yesterday I +carried a telegram up to the studio. Not hearing any sound in the room, I +carefully turned the knob of the door and found it unlocked. For months I +have tried that door, hoping for just such luck," he interpolated. +"Opening it very softly, I saw Mr. Whitney standing with his back to me, +and facing the muzzle of a rifle. I had only time to note that the rifle +was braced on two iron brackets and that Mr. Whitney was holding a string +which was attached to the trigger; when I saw a flash, the rifle's +recoil--and Mr. Whitney still standing just where he was." + +Miller stared incredulously at Heinrich, down whose face sweat was +running; the man was obviously telling the truth--at least, what he +believed to be the truth. + +"Wake up, Heinrich," he said skeptically, and the chauffeur +flushed hotly. + +"It's God's truth I'm telling you," he declared solemnly. "For the sake +of the Fatherland, believe me." + +"I will," and Miller's fist came softly down on his desk. "Did you hear +no report?" + +"None; there was a Maxim silencer on the rifle." "I see--and blank +cartridges in the breech." + +"That is what I first thought on seeing Mr. Whitney still standing," +admitted Heinrich. "I believed he was trying to commit suicide. Then I +heard him exclaim: 'God be thanked! I've solved the problem; it stood +the test.'" + +"Hardly a suicide's speech." Miller stared at Heinrich. "Probably he was +testing the Maxim silencer." + +"No, Herr Captain." The chauffeur almost jumbled his words over each +other in his haste. "An instant after the flash, I saw Mr. Whitney sway +upon his feet, recover his balance, and stand upright." + +"The blast of powder must have caused that." + +"He was fully the length of the room from the muzzle of the rifle. There +were no powder marks on his vest and coat when he opened the door in +response to my knock a few minutes later. You see, Herr Captain, as soon +as I got back my wits, I closed the door. When Mr. Whitney pulled out +his gold pencil from his vest pocket to sign for the telegram I heard +something drop on the floor, and letting the receipt slip fall, I +stooped over and picked up with it--this--" and he laid on the desk a +Mauser bullet. + +Miller examined it curiously. His companion was the first to break the +silence. "It is flattened on one side, Herr Captain." + +"I see it is." Miller weighed the bullet in his hand. "You have something +more to tell me, Heinrich; out with it." + +"Yes, Herr Captain. That night I bribed Vincent to let me valet Mr. +Whitney, and I found the vest he wore that afternoon. In it, over the +heart, was a round hole." + +"Did the bullet fit it?" + +"Exactly." There was a protracted silence, which the chauffeur broke with +a question. "What do you make out of it, sir?" + +Miller did not answer directly. "Was Mr. Whitney wearing his ordinary +business suit?" he inquired. + +"Yes, Herr Captain." + +"You are sure he wore nothing over it?" + +"Absolutely positive." + +Miller handed back the bullet. "It rather looks as if Mr. Whitney has +invented some wearing apparel which Mauser bullets cannot penetrate," he +said slowly, "or else...." + +"Yes, Herr Captain." + +"You are a great liar." + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +AT THE MORGUE + + +Shortly before three o'clock on that same afternoon in which Heinrich had +confided in Miller, dashing turnouts and limousines, their smartly +liveried coachmen and chauffeurs asking now and then the direction from +street-crossing policeman, trotted and tooted their way down busy Seventh +Street toward the wharves, their destination a modest two-storied +stuccoed building bearing the words, "D. C. Morgue." The inquest on +Sinclair Spencer was to be held there at three o'clock. + +Spencer's tragic death twenty-four hours before had indeed created a +sensation in the nation's Capital. The wildest rumors were afloat. Was it +deliberate murder or suicide? The press, ever keen to scent sensational +news, had devoted much space to the little known facts and hinted at even +more startling developments; all of which but whetted the curiosity of +the public. The social prominence of the Whitneys had precipitated them +still further into the limelight; not often did the smart set have so +choice a titbit to discuss, and gossip ran riot. It had few facts to +thrive upon, as both the coroner and the police refused to give out the +slightest detail. + +"Good gracious!" ejaculated Miss Kiametia, as the touring car in which +she and Senator Foster were riding threaded its tooting way through the +many vehicles. "This street resembles Connecticut Avenue on Saturday +afternoon. Where _is_ the morgue?" + +"Right here," and Foster sprang out of the car with alacrity as it drew +up to the curb. He had been, for his cheery temperament, singularly +morose, and Miss Kiametia's attempt to make conversation during their +ride had failed. The spinster's talkativeness was a sure indication that +her nerves were on edge; she usually kept guard upon her tongue. + +"Do you suppose the Whitneys are here?" she asked, adjusting her veil +with nervous fingers as she crossed the uneven sidewalk. + +"Probably; I imagine we are late. Look out for that swing door." +Foster put out a steadying hand. "This way," turning to the left of +the entrance. + +"One moment, sir," and Detective Mitchell, who with several others from +the Central Office had been unobtrusively keeping tab on each new +arrival, joined them. "Miss Grey, being a witness, must stay with the +others in this room. The inquest is being held in that inner room, Mr. +Senator. Will you sit over here, Miss Grey...." + +But the spinster hesitated; she relied upon Foster more than she was +willing to admit, and the promise of his presence had reconciled her to +the prospect of a trying afternoon. + +"I prefer to go with you," she objected, turning appealingly to him. + +"But, Kiametia, you can't," interposed Foster hurriedly. "The law forbids +it. I will be in the next room should you need me." He gave her hand a +reassuring squeeze, then glanced hastily about the room. In one corner +the Whitney servants, their inward perturbance showing in their white +scared faces, sat huddled together, but there was no sign of Mr. and Mrs. +Whitney and Kathleen. Apparently he and Miss Kiametia were earlier than +he had at first thought. Turning from Miss Kiametia, he addressed +Detective Mitchell in a low tone. + +"Have you caught Julie, the French maid?" he asked. + +"All developments in the case will be brought out at the inquest," +replied Mitchell politely, and Foster, his curiosity unsatisfied, walked +away. He found the room used for inquests crowded to the doors, and made +his way through the knot of men standing about, to the reporters' table, +where a seat had been reserved for him by the morgue master. Across the +east end of the room was the raised platform upon which stood a long +table and chairs for the coroner, the deputy coroner, and the witnesses, +while to their left were the six chairs for the coroner's jury. As the +Senator seated himself he spied Charles Miller among the men standing at +the back of the room. There was a vacant chair next to his, and after a +few hurried words with the coroner, Foster beckoned Miller to join him. + +"I called you up repeatedly this morning," said Miller, pushing his chair +closer to the Senator so as to make room for a reporter on his left. "But +your servant declared you were not at home." + +"I spent most of the morning at the Whitneys' and lunched with Miss Grey. +Horrible affair, this; the Whitneys are all unstrung." + +"Did you see Kathleen?" + +"No," Foster stroked his chin nervously. "She has steadily refused to see +anyone, even her parents. Her conduct is most strange." + +"I don't agree with you," warmly. "She has undergone a great shock, +finding a friend dead in an elevator...." + +"Ah, did she?" The words seemed forced from Foster; he would have given +much to recall them on seeing the look that flashed in Miller's eyes. + +"She did," he asserted tersely. "Kathleen is the soul of honor--you have +but to know her to appreciate that--she and evil can never be associated +together." + +"You are a warm champion," exclaimed Foster. "I should almost imagine--" + +"That I am engaged to her?" calmly. "Quite true, I am." + +Foster drew back. "I--I beg pardon," he stammered in some confusion. "I +had no idea affairs had progressed so far--I am sorry I spoke as I did." + +"You were but echoing what I hear on all sides," answered Miller +bitterly. + +"True," Foster nodded. "Kathleen's extraordinary silence, when by a few +words she could explain what happened yesterday morning before her +screams aroused the household, is causing unfavorable comment and +unfortunate conjecture." + +"The mystery will be explained this afternoon," and quiet confidence rang +in Miller's pleasantly modulated tones. "Hello, I see some members of the +Diplomatic Corps are present." + +"And the so-called 'four hundred,'" growled Foster. The close atmosphere +had started him coughing, and he scowled at Baron Frederic von Fincke +who was seated near by. "Where is the jury?" he asked, as soon as the +paroxysm of coughing was over. + +"Viewing the body in that room." Miller indicated a closed door to his +right. "The jury is sworn in there by the morgue master." + +As he spoke the door opened and the six men, led by the morgue master, +filed into the room and took their places, and the low hum of +conversation died away as the coroner, stepping to the platform, stated +briefly the reason for the inquest, and summoned Dr. Hall, of the +Emergency Hospital, to the witness chair. He was quickly sworn by the +morgue master, and in response to the coroner's question, stated that he +had reached the Whitney residence shortly after eight o'clock Wednesday +morning in answer to a telephone call. + +"Tell the jury what you found on your arrival," directed the coroner. + +"I was shown upstairs by the butler, whose incoherent remarks led me to +suppose that someone was ill in the elevator. On entering it I found Mr. +Spencer, whom I knew slightly, lying there dead." + +"Did you make a thorough examination?" + +"Only enough to prove that life was extinct. The butler informed me that +my services were needed by Miss Whitney, and I went at once to her." + +"In what condition did you find her?" + +"Hysterical. To quiet her, I finally administered an opiate, and sent for +a trained nurse." + +"Did you consider her case dangerous?" + +"No, but she was completely unstrung; her nervous system had undergone a +severe shock, and I feared for her mental condition if not given +immediate relief and complete rest." + +"Have you seen her today?" + +"Yes, this morning." + +"How was she?" + +"Much improved." + +"Did Miss Whitney speak to you of Mr. Spencer?" + +"She did not." + +"Did you question her on the subject of the mystery surrounding Mr. +Spencer's death?" + +"I did not. In her condition I judged it a topic to be avoided. I also +cautioned her parents not to discuss it with her unless she voluntarily +alluded to it." + +"How long had Spencer been dead, Doctor, when you saw him?" + +"I cannot answer positively, as I did not make a thorough examination, +but judging from appearances, I should say he had been dead at least +four hours." + +Miller shot a triumphant look at Foster, then turned his attention to the +coroner, who was scanning his notebook. + +"I think that is all, Doctor," he announced, "you are excused." + +There was a slight pause, and the deputy coroner, who had been taking the +testimony, laid down his pen and gently massaged his hand. The next +instant at the coroner's direction, the morgue master ushered in +Detective Mitchell. The detective, after being duly sworn, told his full +name and length of service in the District force, and briefly described +his arrival at the Whitney residence. + +"You examined the body in the elevator?" questioned the coroner. + +"Yes, Doctor." + +"Was Mr. Spencer dressed?" + +"Yes, sir, except for coat, waistcoat, collar, and shoes." + +"Are these the clothes he had on at the time of his death?" The coroner +pointed to a pile of wearing apparel lying on the desk. + +"Yes, Doctor." + +"Did you search for the weapon with which Mr. Spencer's throat +was gashed?" + +"At once, sir," answered Mitchell promptly. "At the back of the elevator +near the body I found this"--holding up a short bone-handled knife which +he took from his coat pocket. "The blade was covered with blood." + +Coroner Penfield took the knife and after examining it, handed it to the +foreman of the jury who, upon scanning it closely, passed it on to his +companions. + +"Have you ever seen such a knife before?" questioned the coroner. "The +blade is a peculiar shape." + +"Yes, sir; that shape of knife is sometimes used in modeling clay and by +glaziers when handling putty." + +Penfield and the deputy coroner exchanged glances, then the coroner +resumed his questions. "Did you examine the bedroom Mr. Spencer occupied +Tuesday night, Mitchell?" + +"I did, sir." + +"Had the bed been slept in?" + +"Apparently it had, sir. The pillows and covering had been tossed about." + +"Did you find anything in the room belonging to the deceased?" + +"Yes, the coat and waistcoat of his suit, his collar and shoes." + +"Was there any indication, besides the tossing of the bedclothes, that +the deceased had made preparations to sleep there?" + +"Yes; I found a pair of pajamas lying on the floor near the bed, +apparently hastily discarded, as they were turned wrong side out." + +"Did you examine the deceased's clothes?" + +"Yes, sir. They were what any gentleman would wear in the evening. In his +pockets I found a wallet containing twenty dollars in bills, three +dollars in loose change, and his keys. Here they are, sir," and Mitchell, +as he mentioned each ticketed article, laid them on the table before the +coroner, who examined them carefully. + +"Was there anything about the room which especially claimed your +attention?" Mitchell paused and glanced thoughtfully at his polished +shoes. "Let me alter that question," said the coroner hastily. "Did +you find any indication in the room that Mr. Spencer expected to +return to it?" + +"His clothes were there, and the electric light by the bureau was +burning, notwithstanding the fact that it was nearly nine o'clock in +the morning." + +The coroner consulted his papers, "That is all just now," and Mitchell +departed. "Ask Mr. Whitney to step here," directed Penfield, a second +afterward. + +"Beg pardon, sir," and the morgue master stepped before the platform. +"Mr. Whitney went back to his residence to escort his daughter here. Mrs. +Whitney, however, is waiting in the next room." + +"Very well, bring Mrs. Whitney here," and the coroner left his seat to +assist her to the platform. Mrs. Whitney's customary self-control and air +of good breeding had not deserted her, and whatever her inward +tribulation at appearing before a coroner's jury, it was successfully +concealed as she repeated the oath after the morgue master. + +"Your full name?" questioned Coroner Penfield. + +"Minna Caswell Whitney, daughter of the late Judge William Caswell, of +New York." + +"You were married to Winslow Whitney in--" + +"1896." + +"And you have resided in Washington since then?" + +"Yes, except in the summer months when we went to our home in +Massachusetts or, occasionally, abroad." + +"Will you kindly state what took place at your house on Tuesday evening, +Mrs. Whitney?" + +"I entertained the Sisters in Unity, and afterward went to bed." The +concise reply wrung a smile from Foster. + +"At what hour did the members of your club depart?" + +"A little before one o'clock, Wednesday morning." + +"Then did you go direct to bed?" + +"No, I first showed Miss Kiametia Grey who, owing to an attack of +faintness, was spending the night at my home, to her room; then I +retired." + +"Were you aware that Mr. Spencer was also spending the night under +your roof?" + +"Not until Miss Grey informed me of the fact; I had inadvertently +placed her in the same room with Mr. Spencer. I immediately took her to +another room." + +"Was Mr. Spencer's bedroom in darkness when you ushered Miss Grey into +it?" + +"It was." + +"Did not your husband tell you of Mr. Spencer's presence?" + +"I did not see my husband until Wednesday morning; he had gone to his +studio in the attic when I went to my bedroom. He frequently works all +night on his inventions." + +"Were you awakened during the night by any noise?" + +"No." + +"Did you see your daughter before retiring?" + +"No." + +"Did she attend the meeting of your club?" + +"No, she is not a member." + +"When did you first hear of Mr. Spencer's death?" + +"The next morning, when my daughter's screams aroused the household." + +"How long has Julie Genet, your French maid, been in your employ?" + +"Four years." + +"Have you heard from her since her disappearance?" + +"No." + +"Was she acquainted with Mr. Spencer?" + +"I really don't know." + +The coroner flushed at her tone. "Was Julie discontented with her place?" +he asked, somewhat harshly. + +"I have no reason to suppose so; she never complained." + +"How did you come to employ her?" + +"A friend of mine brought her to this country, and a year later Julie +came to me; she was highly recommended." + +"Has she any relatives in this country to whom she might have gone?" + +"None that I ever heard of." Mrs. Whitney reflected for a second, then +added, "Julie told me some months ago that her only near relatives had +been killed in the war in France." + +"Was Julie a well trained servant?" + +"She was indeed; also good-natured, thoughtful, and obedient." + +"When did you last see Julie?" + +"Downstairs, when giving final directions to Vincent. I told her to +assist him in closing the house, and then go direct to bed; that I would +undress myself as it was so late." + +"Did she appear as usual?" + +"Yes." + +"Did you go at all to Mr. Spencer's bedroom yesterday morning after +hearing of his death?" + +"No." + +"We will not detain you longer, Mrs. Whitney," and with a slight bow to +the jurors and the coroner she made her way from the room. + +Her place was taken by Vincent, the butler, who testified that he had +gone about his work on Wednesday morning as customary, that all windows +and doors were locked as he had left them the night before, and that he +and Henry, the chauffeur, were busy replacing the drawing-room furniture, +removed the night before to make room for chairs for the meeting of the +Sisters in Unity, when startled by Miss Whitney's screams. He also stated +that having gone to bed very late, he had slept heavily and had not been +awakened until aroused at seven o'clock by the cook. His bedroom was +across the hall from the other servants. He had not realized that Julie +Genet was absent until Mrs. Whitney rang for her; he had supposed the +maid was upstairs waiting upon either her or Miss Whitney. No, Julie was +not quarrelsome; she was quiet, deeply engrossed in her own affairs, and +spent much of her time sewing in Miss Whitney's sitting-room. He had +heard that she was to have been married the previous December, but the +war had taken her fiance back to the colors, and he had been killed in +the retreat on Paris. + +Henry, the chauffeur, was the next to testify. He admitted admiration for +Julie and stated that she had not encouraged his attentions, and the +remainder of his testimony simply corroborated that of Vincent. He did +not sleep in the Whitney residence, but took his meals there. + +When giving their testimony the chambermaid, laundress, and scullery +maid also stated they did not sleep at the Whitneys'; that Julie, while +always pleasant, kept very much to herself. They one and all declared +that they had never entered Sinclair Spencer's bedroom Wednesday morning +after the discovery of the tragedy. The coroner quickly dismissed each +one, and Rosa, the cook, looking extremely perturbed, was the last +servant to be questioned. She stated that she had not gone upstairs +Wednesday morning until noon. + +"Sure, I dunno whin Julie wint downstairs Wednesday mornin'," she +declared. "I slep' that heavy I niver hear her a'movin' around." + +"Was it her habit to get up before you did?" asked Coroner Penfield. + +"Yis, sor. She had oneasy nights, like, an' would be off downstairs at +the foist peep o' day. She brooded too much over the papers, I'm feared; +though 'twas natural to read av the divils who killed her kin and +swateheart in France." + +"Did Julie ever speak to you of Mr. Spencer?" + +"Wance or twice, maybe," admitted Rosa reluctantly. + +"Did she ever meet Mr. Spencer away from the house?" + +"Niver, sor." Rosa looked shocked. "Julie was real dacent, she niver +sought her betters' society. Nay, she was afeared Miss Kathleen might +listen to his courtin'. She didn't consider no wan good enough for Miss +Kathleen." + +"Ah, then she was fond of Miss Kathleen?" + +"Sure, fond's not the word; she was daffy about her. An' no wonder, Miss +Kathleen was that good to her; comforted her whin bad news came from the +wars, let her sit and sew wid her, and give her money to sind to France." + +"Was Julie on good terms with the other servants?" + +"Yis, sor. She and Henry had words now and thin; when Henry got teasin', +she didn't always take ut in good part." + +"Have you any idea where Julie went on leaving the Whitneys?" + +"No, sor; she has no real frinds in Washington. I dunno where she can be, +an' I'm sick o' worryin' over her." The warm-hearted Irishwoman's eyes +filled with tears. "Julie was excitable like and quicktempered, but she +niver did wrong, an' don't let yourselves be thinkin' ut." + +"There, there." The coroner laid a kindly hand on her arm. "We won't keep +you any longer, Mrs. O'Leary. Careful of that step," and as the morgue +master appeared, he asked, "Is Miss Kiametia Grey here?" + +"Yes, Doctor." + +"Then ask her to come in." He exchanged a few remarks with the deputy +coroner in a tone too low to reach the ears of the attentive reporters, +then turned back to the witness chair as Miss Kiametia seated herself. + +"We will only keep you a few minutes," he began, after the preliminary +questions had been asked the spinster. "I understand you were +accidentally shown into the bedroom already occupied by Mr. Spencer." + +"I was," stated Miss Kiametia, as the coroner paused. "Neither Mrs. +Whitney nor I was aware he was within a mile of us." + +"Did you discover his presence at once?" + +"No." The spinster's tone was short. "The bed is in an alcove, and I had +only turned on the electric bulb by the bureau; thus the room was in +partial darkness. I--eh--eh--" then with a rush--"I did not know he was +there until I was ready to get in bed." + +"Was Mr. Spencer asleep?" + +"I never waited to see." + +Coroner Penfield stifled a smile and changed the subject. "Were you +aroused during the night by any noise?" + +"No," sharply. "When once in the hall bedroom I took a pretty stiff drink +of whiskey as a nightcap, for I was feeling pretty shaky about then. +Consequently I slept soundly all through the night." + +"Was Mr. Spencer a great friend of yours?" + +"No," with uncomplimentary promptness. "But I did occasionally ask him to +large entertainments." + +"Did you see Miss Whitney before retiring on Tuesday night?" + +"No. Her mother told me she had gone to bed early." + +"Did you see Mr. Whitney?" + +"No." + +"Did you see Julie, the French maid?" + +"Not upstairs. Mrs. Whitney gave me the whiskey and a dressing-gown." + +"Can you tell me if Mr. Spencer was wearing his pajamas in bed?" + +"I cannot," dryly. + +"Did you enter Mr. Spencer's bedroom the next morning after hearing of +his death?" + +"I did not." + +"While in his room Tuesday night did you observe his clothes on a +chair or table? + +"No, and after discovering his presence, I was too keen to get out of +the room to notice anything in it." + +"Then possibly you left the light burning by the bureau?" + +"I did nothing of the sort. It is a hobby of mine never to waste gas or +electricity, and I remember distinctly stopping to put out the light +after I had picked up my clothes." + +"Quite sure, Miss Gray?" and the spinster bridled at his quizzical +glance. + +"I am willing to take my dying oath," she said solemnly, "that I left +that room in total darkness." + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +CIRCUMSTANTIAL EVIDENCE + + +"Mr. Winslow Whitney will be the next witness," announced Coroner +Penfield, first signifying to Miss Kiametia Grey that her presence was no +longer required in the witness chair, and the spinster, with an audible +sigh of relief, picked up her gold mesh purse and its dangling +accessories and hastily left the room. + +There was an instant craning of necks and raising of lorgnettes as the +door opened to admit Winslow Whitney. Courteously acknowledging the bows +of several friends seated near the entrance, he made his way to the +witness chair with a firm tread, and his clear voice was plainly heard +as, in answer to the morgue master's questions, he stated his full name, +age, and length of residence in Washington, having first taken the oath +to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. Charles +Miller, watching him intently, was relieved to find that the nervous +twitching of the muscles of his face and hands, so noticeable the day +before, was missing. Though his haggard face testified to a sleepless +night, Whitney was outwardly composed. + +"For how many years have you known Sinclair Spencer?" asked the coroner. + +"Fully ten." + +"Were you intimately acquainted?" + +"No. I knew him as I know dozens of other men; he was frequently at my +house, and on several occasions he assisted me in protecting my patents +in the law courts." + +"But you would not call him an intimate friend?" + +"Most assuredly not." + +"Was he in the habit of spending the night in your house?" + +"He has sometimes stopped with me during the summer months when I was +detained in Washington and my wife and daughter were away." + +"He was familiar with your house, then?" + +"You mean--architecturally?" + +"Yes. Could he find his way about it alone in the dark?" + +"I presume he could--provided he was sober," dryly. "The arrangement of +the rooms is not complicated, and one floor is very much like another." + +Coroner Penfield cleared his throat. "Was Mr. Spencer a welcome guest in +your house?" + +"Certainly; otherwise I should not have invited him," replied Whitney, +with quiet dignity. + +"Let me amend my question." The coroner laid down his pencil. "Was Mr. +Spencer on a friendly footing with each member of your household?" + +"I have every reason to believe he was." + +"Was Mr. Spencer's manner the same as usual when he called upon you +Tuesday evening?" + +"No." + +"In what way was it different?" + +"He had been drinking." + +"Was he rough, boisterous?" + +"The latter, yes. So much so, that I suggested he spend the night. I did +not wish him to go downstairs and disturb my wife's guests, which he was +quite capable of doing had the whim seized him." + +"Were you then upstairs, Mr. Whitney?" + +"Yes, in my wife's boudoir on the first bedroom floor." + +"When did you last see Mr. Spencer alive?" + +"When I showed him into his bedroom and loaned him a pair of pajamas." + +"Did you help him undress?" + +"No, as he assured me, with drunken gravity, that he could manage +it himself." + +"Did you inform your wife and daughter that Mr. Spencer was spending the +night in your house?" + +"No. My wife was downstairs entertaining her guests, and my daughter was +asleep in her room. I did not see either of them until the next morning." + +"Where did you go after leaving Mr. Spencer in his bedroom?" + +"To my studio in the attic. I remained there all night absorbed in my +work." + +"Did you hear any unusual sounds during the night?" + +"No; my studio, or workshop, is sound-proof. And it is the same +throughout the house," he added. "The walls, besides being of unusual +width, were all deadened by my grandfather's direction. He had a horror +of noise." + +"When did you leave your studio?" + +"About seven o'clock Wednesday morning." + +"Did you use the elevator then?" + +"No, I seldom use it." Whitney twisted about in his chair. "I had the +elevator installed for the convenience of my wife and daughter." + +Penfield made an entry in his notebook, then faced Whitney directly. + +"Have you in connection with your workshop a photographic outfit and +darkroom?" he asked. + +"I have." + +"I am told that you are working on a sort of camera which, used in an +aeroplane, makes a map of the country over which the machine passes. Is +that correct, Mr. Whitney?" + +"Yes," acknowledged Whitney. "A patent is pending." + +"Had it gotten about among your servants that you were working upon an +important invention?" + +"It's very possible," Whitney conceded. + +"Did Julie, your wife's maid, ever evince undue curiosity in your work?" + +Whitney wrinkled his brow in thought. "No," he said. "I can't say that I +am aware she did. When I go to my studio, as we usually call my workshop, +it is an understood thing that I am not to be disturbed by _anyone_. It +is a rule I enforce by dismissal if broken, and the servants have learned +by experience to obey." + +"Has your household access to your studio when you are not there?" + +"No, I securely lock the door whenever I leave the room." + +"Are you ever joined while in your studio by your wife and daughter and +their friends?" + +"Occasionally they bring Miss Grey and Senator Foster in to see my +models." + +"Did you confide the particulars of your latest invention to Mr. +Spencer?" + +"I did not." + +"Did he ever show deep interest in it?" + +"Only questioned me about it now and then," replied Whitney casually, and +Charles Miller alone noted the nervous twitching of his eyelids. + +"Was the electric light turned on in Mr. Spencer's room when you left him +for the night?" + +"Y-yes." Whitney reflected for a moment, then added, "I believe the bulb +by the bureau was burning, but I can't swear to it." + +"Did Mr. Spencer give you any inkling Tuesday night that he intended to +be an early riser on Wednesday morning?" + +"No, he never mentioned the subject." + +"Was it his custom on previous visits, to walk about your house before +the servants were up?" + +"Not that I am aware of," Whitney hesitated. "Possibly his intoxicated +condition made him desire the fresh air." + +"That is possible," admitted the coroner. "But witnesses testify that Mr. +Spencer had on no shoes." + +"Which confirms my statement of his condition," replied Whitney quietly. +"No man in his sober senses seeks the street in his stockings." + +The coroner, making no comment, held up the knife with the black bone +handle. "Have you ever seen this knife before?" + +Whitney turned a shade whiter. "I may have; there is nothing distinctive +about the knife." + +"Is it not used for modeling in clay?" + +"I believe so." + +"Who made the clay models in your studio, Mr. Whitney?" + +"I did." + +"Unassisted?" + +The question remained unanswered, and after a brief pause the +coroner pushed back his chair and rose. "That is all, thank you, Mr. +Whitney; kindly wait in the adjoining room to the left; you will +find a chair there." + +With a stiff bow Whitney stepped down from the platform and made his way +through the silent crowd to the room indicated. + +As the door closed behind him, Penfield called the deputy coroner to the +stand. Laying down his pen, Dr. North took his seat in the witness chair, +and after being sworn, turned to face the jurors, chart in hand. + +"You made the autopsy upon Mr. Sinclair Spencer?" questioned Penfield. + +"I did, Doctor, in the presence of the morgue master." + +"Please state to the jury the result of that autopsy." + +The deputy coroner glanced at the notes on the back of the chart, then +reversed it, holding it aloft so that all in the room could see the +anatomical drawing of a human figure. + +"The knife penetrated this section of the neck, just missing the carotid +artery," he began, using his pencil to indicate the spot marked on the +chart. "While the wound bled profusely it was superficial and did not +cause death." + +His words created a sensation. Men and women looked at each other, then +sat forward in their chairs, the better to view the deputy coroner and +his chart. + +"Were there indications of death from extreme alcoholism, then?" +questioned the coroner, and his voice sounded unusually loud in the deep +silence which prevailed. + +"No. Judging by the contents of the stomach Mr. Spencer had not taken +alcohol to excess." + +"Then if the knife wound was not fatal, and there was no indication of +intoxication, what caused Mr. Spencer's death?" demanded the coroner. + +"On examination," Dr. North weighed his words carefully, "I found a +powerful drug had evidently been used, producing instantaneous death by +paralyzing the respiratory center and arresting the heart action." + +All in the room were giving the deputy coroner rapt attention. Many had +come there purely from love of sensation, and they were not being +disappointed. The eyes of Charles Miller and Senator Foster met for a +second, then quickly shifted back to the deputy coroner. The reporters, +their pencils flying across the sheets, were the only ones in the room +who had not glanced at the witness. + +"Have you discovered the drug used?" questioned the coroner. + +"By tests I found it to be cyanide of potassium, a most deadly poison, +generally instantaneous in its action." + +"How large a dose was given?" + +"I don't know, as there were no indications of it in the gastric +contents." + +"Then how was the drug administered?" + +"Through the blood." + +"By means of the knife?" + +The deputy coroner looked puzzled. "Possibly," he admitted. "But I could +find no trace of the poison left on the knife blade. There was no mark +on the body to show how the poison was administered." + +"At what hour did death occur?" + +"Between three and four in the morning, judging by the condition of +the body." + +"Was there any indication, Doctor, of resistance on the part of the +deceased? Did he make an effort to defend himself." + +"No, Judging from his expression and the condition of the muscles I +should say that Mr. Spencer never knew what killed him, never knew even +that his life was threatened." + +"Were his hands opened or clenched?" + +"His right hand was clenched," acknowledged the deputy coroner. "Not, +however, for the purpose of defense, but to retain his grasp upon this--" +and drawing an envelope from his pocket he carefully shook into his open +palm a crushed and faded flower. "It is a cornflower," he explained. +"Sometimes called bachelor's button. The stem is broken short off." And +he held the flower so that all might view it. + +Senator Foster, who had followed the testimony with unflagging interest, +heard a sudden sharp intake of breath to his right, but glancing quickly +at Charles Miller he found his face expressionless. + +Penfield took the cornflower and envelope from the deputy coroner and +laid them carefully on his desk, while continuing his examination. No one +paid any attention to the lengthening shadows of the late afternoon, and +the coroner's next question was awaited with breathless interest. + +"Is cyanide of potassium used in photography?" he inquired. + +"It is." + +"That is all, Doctor, you are excused," and the deputy coroner returned +to his seat. + +The next witness was the morgue master, and his testimony simply +corroborated that of the deputy coroner. He was followed by William Banks +and John P. Wilson, respectively, both well known in the financial world +of Washington, who testified to Sinclair Spencer's standing in the +community, and stated that his financial condition precluded any +suggestion of suicide; and that to their knowledge he had no enemies. + +The lights were burning when the last named witness left the chair, but +there was no sign of weariness among the men and women in the room. +Although several consulted their watches, no one rose to go. Their +already deeply stirred interest was quickened into fever heat as, in +obedience to the coroner's summons, Kathleen Whitney took her place in +the witness chair. + +Dressed with the strict attention to detail and taste which made her one +of the conspicuous figures in the younger set, Kathleen's appearance and +beauty made instant impression upon juror and spectator alike. But her +chic veil failed to hide the pallor of her cheeks, and the unnatural +brilliancy of her eyes. Despite every effort at control, her voice shook +as she repeated the oath word for word and stated her full name and age. + +"Have you always resided in Washington?" asked the coroner. + +"Yes." + +"Were you educated in this city?" + +"Yes, except for a winter in Germany." + +"Did you take up a special study while in Germany, Miss Whitney?" + +"Yes, miniature painting--" + +"And modeling?" as she paused. + +"Oh, no, I never studied that abroad although I occasionally help my +father by modeling in clay." + +"When did you make your debut in Washington society?" + +"Last winter." + +"Did you then make Mr. Sinclair Spencer's acquaintance?" + +"No." She moved involuntarily at the mention of Spencer's name. "I +had known him previously. He was one of father's friends, and much +older than I." + +"Were you not reported engaged to him last fall?" + +Kathleen flushed at the question. "I never heard of it," she said coldly. +"I do not encourage gossip." + +"Miss Whitney." Coroner Penfield surreptitiously scanned a small note +handed him before the commencement of the inquest. The handwriting was +distinctly foreign. "Miss Whitney," repeated Penfield. "Did you not +refuse Mr. Spencer's offer of marriage on Tuesday morning?" + +For a moment Kathleen stared at him in speechless surprise. "Where did +you get that piece of information?" she demanded, recovering herself. + +"You have not answered my question, Miss Whitney," and the quiet +persistence of his manner impressed Kathleen. + +"Yes, I refused him," she admitted. + +"Did Mr. Spencer make any attempt to persuade you to reconsider +your refusal?" + +"Yes." Kathleen shot an impatient look at the coroner. "I cannot see what +my private affairs have to do with the regrettable death of Mr. +Spencer," she protested. + +Penfield ignored her remark. "Did Mr. Spencer communicate with you +Tuesday by letter or telephone?" he asked and waited, but the question +remained unanswered. To the disappointment of the reporters, he did not +repeat it, but asked instead: "Were you aware on Tuesday evening that Mr. +Spencer was spending the night at your house?" + +"No." + +"Did you see either your father or your mother that night before +retiring?" + +"No." + +"When did you last see Julie, your mother's maid?" + +"Before dinner when she came to my bedroom to help me change my dress." + +"Did she seem discontented with her situation?'" questioned the coroner. + +"No." + +"Did Julie ever evince dislike to Mr. Spencer?" + +Kathleen's hand crept to her throat and she plucked nervously at her +veil. "Julie was too respectful to discuss our family friends with +me," she said. + +"You have not answered my question, Miss Whitney," was Penfield's quick +retort, and Kathleen flushed under the rebuke. + +"Because I am aware that you are striving to make me incriminate Julie in +Mr. Spencer's death," she began heatedly. "Instead, you and the police +should make every effort to find Julie and protect her ..." + +"From what?" + +"I don't know," hopelessly. "Julie has no friends in this city, no one +whom she could turn to in trouble but me. I cannot understand her +disappearance; I fear, greatly fear, foul play." + +"Circumstantial evidence points to her having disappeared of her own +volition, Miss Whitney, to escape being charged with a heinous crime." + +"Pardon me, her disappearance is the only scrap of evidence which leads +you to think she might possibly have murdered a man whom she knew by +sight," retorted Kathleen. + +"Was it your habit to supply Julie with money?" questioned the coroner. + +"Yes, which she sent to France as her mite toward the war fund," answered +Kathleen heatedly. "I am confident Julie had nothing whatever to do with +the death of Mr. Spencer." + +"Can you tell us who did, Miss Whitney?" asked Penfield, and he saw the +terror which crept into her handsome eyes. + +"I cannot," she answered with unsteady lips. "I never awoke that night." + +"What took you downstairs at so early an hour yesterday morning?" + +"I had rung the upstairs bell for Julie, and as she did not come, I +started to go down and find her," she hesitated uncertainly. + +"Continue," directed Penfield. "Tell your story of finding Mr. Spencer's +body in your own way." + +It was some minutes before Kathleen obeyed his request. "I went to the +elevator and pushed the button," she began slowly. "I was in a hurry, and +when I heard the click which indicated the cage was there I opened the +outer mahogany door, pushed back the inner steel grille-work door, +stepped into the elevator and without looking about me, closed the doors, +and pushed the basement button. Then I turned about"--Kathleen moistened +her dry lips--"and saw--and saw--Mr. Spencer lying there--the blood"--she +closed her eyes as if to shut out the recollection--"I think for a time +I lost my reason. I have no intelligent recollection of anything that +occurred until I found myself in bed with a trained nurse in attendance." + +As her charming voice ceased, Charles Miller, who had never taken his +eyes from her face, gently moved his chair so that Foster's figure cast +him in shadow. Never once had Kathleen glanced his way; she sat for the +most part with her eyes downcast or looking directly at the coroner. +Kathleen was visibly moved by the recital of her experiences in the +elevator, and Penfield waited an instant before questioning her further. + +"Could you tell from what floor the elevator came when you pushed your +floor button?" he asked. + +"No," was the disappointing answer. "The elevator runs practically +noiselessly, and we have no floor indicator such as you see in stores." + +"Was the electric light turned on in the elevator when you entered it?" + +"No." + +"Then how could you see Mr. Spencer so clearly?" + +"The brick elevator shaft is lighted by a skylight," answered Kathleen. +"The electric light is only needed at night." + +"Do you recognize this knife?" and Penfield held it before her as he +spoke. Kathleen's eyes did not shift their gaze, but her teeth met +sharply on her lower lip. + +"I see that it resembles one that I have," she said. + +"You still have yours?" + +"Yes, you will find it in my desk drawer at home." + +"Had you only the one knife, Miss Whitney?" + +"I may have had others," indifferently. "I do not recall; I buy my +painting and modeling supplies as I need them." + +The coroner replaced the knife without further comment. + +"You use azurea perfume, do you not?" he asked. + +"Yes." + +"What was your object in trying to rub out a blood stain on the front of +Mr. Spencer's white shirt, Miss Whitney, while you were in the elevator?" +asked Penfield. + +Kathleen looked at him dully. "Wh-what d-did you say?" she stuttered. + +For answer Penfield took from the pile of clothing on the table a white +shirt and pointed to a discoloration on its glazed surface. + +"When I first saw this shirt on Mr. Spencer it reeked of perfume," he +said sternly. "Submitted to chemical tests, I find a blood stain was +partially removed by azurea. Again I ask, what was your object in +attempting to remove the blood stain?" + +But Penfield spoke to deaf ears. Kathleen had fainted. Excitement waxed +high in the room as Kathleen was carried out by Charles Miller, the first +to reach her side, and placed in the tender care of Mrs. Whitney and the +trained nurse. Waiting only to see her brought back to consciousness by +Dr. Hall, Miller slipped back into the inquest room. Detective Mitchell +was again in the witness chair. + +"You made a thorough examination of Miss Whitney's room?" inquired +the coroner. + +"Yes, Doctor." + +"And what did you find?" + +"This torn note"--and the detective held up the pieces in each hand. + +"Read its contents aloud," ordered Penfield. + +"The Connecticut, + +"Tuesday afternoon. + +"KATHLEEN, MY DARLING: + +"I implore you to reconsider--before it is too late. Consult +your father's best interests before you reject _me_. + +"Yours, with undying affection, + + "SINCLAIR." + +Mitchell paused after reading the signature, then continued. "Here is a +sample of Mr. Spencer's handwriting, attested by his cousin, Captain +Dunbar; the handwriting of the notes is identical, sir," and he placed +the papers in Penfield's hand. Reading them carefully, the coroner passed +them along to the jury for examination. + +"Where did you find this note?" he asked Mitchell. + +"Among Miss Whitney's painting materials in her sitting-room." + +"What is that in your lap?" and the coroner pointed to a paper box. In +answer Mitchell raised the cover and displayed a bouquet of faded +cornflowers. + +"I found it in Miss Whitney's sitting-room also," he stated. In tipping +the box, the better to show its contents, a small piece of white muslin +rolled to the floor. Quickly Penfield retrieved it. "I discovered that +handkerchief secreted in the folds of Miss Whitney's blue foulard gown," +added Mitchell, as the coroner spread open the handkerchief. It was badly +mussed and its white center bore dark stains. Penfield sniffed the faint +perfume still hanging about it; then without comment handed the +handkerchief to the foreman of the jury. + +"That is all, Mitchell," announced Penfield, and as the detective +departed, he turned and addressed the jury. His summing up of the case +was quick and to the point, and at the end the jurors silently filed into +another room. It was long after seven o'clock, but no one stirred in the +room, and the silence, which none cared to break, slowly grew oppressive. +The long wait was finally terminated by the reappearance of the jury. +Coroner Penfield rose and addressed them. + +"Gentlemen of the jury," he said, "have you reached a verdict?" + +"The jury find," answered the foreman, "that Kathleen Whitney is +responsible for the death of Sinclair Spencer by poison on the morning of +Wednesday, March 24, 1915, in her family residence in the city of +Washington." + +Quickly the crowded room emptied, reporters rushing madly for motors; not +often had the district morgue housed a _cause celebre_, and its +sensational details had to be rushed on the wire. Charles Miller, +separated from Foster by the sudden crowding of the doorways, waited to +one side for him. + +"Americans are an emotional people," commented a quiet voice at his +elbow, and turning hastily Miller recognized Baron Frederic von Fincke. +"One death more or less does not create a furore elsewhere." + +"That depends on who dies," retorted Miller. + +"True. If it should be a member of the Imperial Family"--Von Fincke's +gesture was eloquent. "To them, all give way. We others are pawns." + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +A PROPOSAL + + +The atmosphere inside the house matched the leaden skies outside in point +of gloom, and even the wood fire, crackling on the hearth, failed to +mitigate the air of restraint and cheerlessness which prevailed in the +dining-room. The rain, falling in torrents, had brought with it a +penetrating cold wind, a last reminder of winter, and Vincent, passing +noiselessly to and from the pantry with sundry savory dishes, was +grateful for the heat thrown out by the blazing logs. + +Mrs. Whitney, whose eyes were red and inflamed from constant weeping, +gave up her attempt to eat her breakfast and pushed her plate away. + +"Let me give you some hot coffee, Winslow," she suggested. "Your cup must +be stone cold, and you haven't touched your fish balls." + +Absorbed in his newspaper, Whitney did not at first heed her request, but +the pulling back of the portieres aroused him, and glancing over his +shoulder, he saw Kathleen entering the room. + +"Good morning, Dad," laying her hand for a second on his shoulder before +taking the chair Vincent pulled out. "Just a cup of coffee, mother dear, +that is all," and Kathleen unfolded her napkin. + +"You told me upstairs you would remain in bed, Kathleen." Mrs. Whitney +looked solicitously at her. "Are you prudent to tax your strength after +all you were subjected to yesterday?" + +"I couldn't stay still a moment longer." Kathleen's slender, supple +fingers played with a piece of toast. "You need not bother to conceal the +newspapers, Dad," as Whitney surreptitiously tucked the _Herald_ and the +_Post_ behind his back. "I read them up in my room." + +"My dearest, I'm sorry you did that." Whitney leaned over and clasped her +hand tenderly. "I gave orders that...." + +"Vincent is not to blame," broke in Kathleen. "I borrowed the nurse's +newspapers before she left." + +"There was no sense in your reading all this jargon," protested Whitney +warmly. "And there is no need, Kathleen, of paying attention to one word +published here. Your friends believe in you absolutely, as we do." + +"Thank you, Dad." Kathleen returned the strong pressure of his hand, and +leaning over, kissed Mrs. Whitney. "Bless both your dear loyal hearts." +Her eyes brimmed with tears, and she dashed them impatiently away. "It +was better that I should see the papers," she continued a moment later, +"and know the world's unbiased opinion." + +"Unbiased opinion in a newspaper!" Whitney laughed mirthlessly. "That and +the millennium will arrive together. Have you everything you want, +Kathleen?" + +"Yes, Dad." + +"Then you need not wait, Vincent. Now, Minna, what did you ask me a few +minutes ago?" + +"If you will have some hot coffee. Yes? Then send me your cup," and Mrs. +Whitney, taking it from Kathleen, poured out the coffee and hot milk. As +she returned the cup and saucer, she glanced carefully about the room, +but Vincent had departed to the kitchen. Satisfied on that point, she +lowered her voice to a confidential pitch. "I hear the servants are +planning to leave." + +"Who cares?" Whitney shrugged his shoulders. "There are better where they +came from." + +"Quite true," agreed Mrs. Whitney. "Then, will you give me their +wages ..." + +"Wages?" Whitney flushed with anger. "No, if the dirty dogs wish to leave +us in the lurch without notice, they will not get one cent from me." + +"They won't leave us," declared Kathleen. "At least, I am sure that +Vincent and Rosa will not go. They have been with us too long." + +"I only know what Henry told me he heard in the kitchen this morning," +explained Mrs. Whitney. + +"Oh, Henry!" exclaimed Kathleen contemptuously. "I wouldn't put any faith +in what he says; he is forever making trouble in the kitchen. He is ..." + +The violent ringing of the telephone bell interrupted her. + +"I have finished my breakfast, I'll go," volunteered Mrs. Whitney, and +she hastened into the pantry where a branch telephone had been installed +for the use of the servants. Before the swing door closed tightly, they +heard her say: "Oh, Kiametia ..." + +"What is the reason the servants are so anxious to decamp?" asked +Whitney, handing Kathleen the dish of fruit, which she declined. + +"You forget this house has become a chamber of horrors." Kathleen's voice +shook, and she paused to take a hasty swallow of hot coffee. "Possibly +the presence of the detectives makes them nervous." + +"Well, a sudden leave-taking from here will probably center the +detectives' attention upon them more than if they stayed and did +their work." + +"That is highly probable. Tell me, Dad"--Kathleen regarded Whitney +intently--"how is it that I am not in jail? Did not the coroner's jury +convict me?" + +"Their verdict read that you were responsible for Spencer's death, and as +such you are under suspicion and will be held for the Grand Jury." + +"Oh!" Kathleen shuddered slightly. + +"I had no difficulty arranging bail," continued Whitney. "The officials +themselves realize--must realize," he interjected, with bitter +force--"there is little _real_ evidence against you. The coroner's +jury--the d----fools"--the words escaped between his clenched teeth--"to +place faith in circumstantial evidence!" Whitney's clenched fist +descended on the table with a force that made the goblets ring. "My dear, +why, why did you try to whitewash Julie?" + +"Because I knew she had nothing to do with Sinclair Spencer's death." + +"You knew nothing of the sort"--with subdued violence. "You are totally +wrong. That Julie ran away is confession of complicity in the crime." + +"I don't believe Julie ran away; I do not"--meeting her father's angry +eyes steadily. "I believe she was enticed away. I tell you, Dad, if this +mystery is ever to be cleared, you must find...." + +"Captain Miller," announced Vincent, drawing back the portieres from the +doorway, and Miller, emerging from the hall, advanced into the room. + +Kathleen's coffee cup descended with a clatter on its saucer as her +nerveless fingers released their hold, and placing one hand on the back +of her chair to steady herself, she rose slowly to her feet. + +"Senator Foster would like to speak to you a minute, Mr. Whitney," added +Vincent. "He is waiting at the front door, sir." + +"Certainly." Whitney shook Miller's hand cordially. "Excuse me a second, +Captain, I'll be back in a jiffy," and he followed Vincent from the room. + +Impulsively Miller stepped toward Kathleen, hands extended and eyes +alight with passionate tenderness. "My love, my dear, dear love!" + +"Stop!" Kathleen spoke in a dangerously low tone. "I must request you to +leave this house at once." + +"Kathleen!" + +"You understand the English tongue?" Her cold repellent manner caused him +to pause in uncertainty. "Or shall I translate my request into German?" + +"I will not put you to that inconvenience," he retorted hotly; then his +manner changed. "Ah, Kathleen, do not let us waste the precious seconds +bickering. Tell me what I can do for you." + +"_You_ ask me that?" Her tone was impossible to translate. + +"Yes." Miller held her gaze, his handsome eyes speaking a language all +their own. "You gave me the right, my darling, to protect you--and I +_shall_ protect you." + +Her strength suddenly deserting her, Kathleen sank down in her chair. + +"You will protect me," she echoed. "_You?_" + +Her tone stung him to the quick. "Yes--I," he said slowly. "Do you not +realize the depth of my love? I would willingly sacrifice my career, my +life for you--and count it no sacrifice." + +"Would God I could believe you!" The cry was wrung from her, and she +raised her trembling hands to brush away the blinding tears. + +Miller dropped on one knee beside her. "My dearest, my heart's desire!" +he whispered passionately, taking her hands prisoner. At his touch she +shrank back, remembrance crowding upon her. + +"Go!" she stammered. "I have kept faith; go, before I say too much." + +Before Miller could answer he heard his name called, and the sound of +rapid footsteps. With a bound he was on his feet, and pausing only +long enough to whisper "Courage, Kathleen," he joined Winslow Whitney +in the hall. + +But Kathleen was hardly conscious of his departure. With an exceedingly +bitter moan, she dropped her head upon her arms and cried as if her heart +would break. Mrs. Whitney, entering from the pantry a second later, +paused aghast, then running to Kathleen, soothed her with loving word and +hand back to some semblance of composure. + +Miller found Winslow Whitney walking rapidly up and down the hall. He +stopped at sight of the latter. "Come in the library," he said. "I've +given instructions that we are not to be interrupted," closing the door +and also pulling to the folding doors behind the portieres leading to +the dining-room. "Make yourself comfortable, Captain," producing a box +of cigars. "Don't mind if I walk up and down; I think better when +moving about." + +"Same here," but Miller selected the most comfortable chair in the room +and puffed slowly at his cigar, while never taking his eyes from his +host. Neither man spoke for fully five minutes, then Whitney pulled up a +chair and sat down near his companion. + +"Have you seen Senator Foster today?" he inquired. + +"Not to talk to; but I caught a glimpse of him coming here as I entered." +Miller knocked the gathering ash from the end of his cigar. "I was with +him at the inquest yesterday." + +"I saw you both there." Whitney selected a cigar and, lighting it, sat +back. "Did Foster happen to tell you that Sinclair Spencer had in his +will made him executor of his estate?" + +"No." + +"Well, he came here today to tell me that, and also that Kathleen is +mentioned in Spencer's will as residuary legatee." + +"What!" Miller's surprise was shown in his face, which had grown +suddenly white. + +"Spencer evidently really cared for Kathleen," went on Whitney, paying no +attention to his ejaculation. "A queer fellow, Spencer; I did not give +him credit for possessing sincere feeling, except where he himself was +concerned." + +"Was Spencer wealthy?" The question shot from Miller against his will. + +"Report says so; I never inquired, myself." Whitney puffed a cloud of +smoke, and as it cleared away, turned impulsively to Miller. "I'm damned +if I like Foster's manner to me today!" he burst out. + +"Why, what happened?" Miller bent eagerly forward. + +"I only asked him to postpone probating Spencer's will," began Whitney, +laying down his cigar. + +Miller's eyes opened. "Did he agree to it?" + +"No--refused curtly." Whitney's eyes flashed. "And the manner of his +refusal--rankles," he confessed. + +"Your request was somewhat singular," commented Miller slowly. + +"Nothing singular about it," retorted Whitney. "I was thinking of +Kathleen when I made the request. Man, do you not see," and the haggard +lines in his face deepened, "the instant that will is offered for probate +its contents become public. And its publication now will but strengthen +the suspicion already centered about Kathleen, by supplying a possible +motive for Spencer's murder." + +"Suspicion cannot injure the innocent," protested Miller. + +"Oh, can't it! That's all you know about it," growled Whitney, wiping +beads of moisture from his forehead. "So much for Foster's friendship +when put to the test. I made it plain to him that my request was prompted +by my desire to shield Kathleen from further publicity." + +"I understand, Mr. Whitney," said Miller gently. + +"Yes, I believe you do," went on Whitney feverishly. "That an old friend +should be the first to go back on me; there's the sting. We are a proud +family, Miller, united in our affections." He cleared his throat of a +slight huskiness. "I would have given everything I possess to have spared +Kathleen that scene at the inquest yesterday; I never for a moment +imagined"--He straightened up.--"I am going to move heaven and earth to +clear Kathleen from this vile suspicion that she is in some way +responsible for Sinclair Spencer's death." + +"I'm with you, Mr. Whitney," Miller's voice rang out clear and strong, +carrying conviction, and a flash of hope lighted Whitney's brooding eyes. +"I love your daughter, sir, and came this morning to ask your consent to +our marriage." + +Whitney looked at him long and intently, and Miller bore the scrutiny +without flinching, his direct gaze never shifting, and his strongly +molded features set with dogged determination. + +"You make this proposal, and at this time?" asked Whitney at last. + +"Yes." Miller's hand tightened its grip on the arm of his chair. +"Clouds can be dispelled, sir; and my faith in your daughter will never +be shaken." + +Without a word Whitney extended his hand, and Miller grasped it +eagerly. "You have my consent, Captain," he said, the huskiness of his +voice more pronounced. "I cannot, of course, answer for Kathleen; I +would not force her acceptance of any man." He turned to relight his +cigar, and Miller's swift change of expression escaped him. "Tell me, +Captain," continued Whitney, tossing away the match. "What conclusions +did you draw at the inquest?" + +"I think the jury acted on inconclusive evidence," said Miller +thoughtfully. "Before rendering any verdict they should have waited to +hear Julie's testimony." + +"You have hit the nail on the head," declared Whitney. "I firmly believe, +in spite of the other servants' testimony, that Julie and Sinclair +Spencer knew each other well, and his death is the result of a +clandestine love affair with her." + +"Love may have entered into it," acknowledged Miller. "But I think there +is also another motive behind Spencer's murder, the significance of which +we have not fully grasped." + +"And that is--?" + +Miller did not answer directly. "What motive inspired Spencer to feign +drunkenness," he asked, "and when everyone was asleep, to steal over this +house like a thief in the night?" + +Whitney drummed impatiently on the desk. "There is but one apparent +answer," he admitted reluctantly. "You believe that he was interested in +my inventions?" + +"I do; his actions certainly point to that conclusion." + +Whitney shook his head. "His behavior that night would have been just the +same if planning a clandestine meeting with Julie." + +"But, my dear sir, he could have met Julie elsewhere with far less danger +of discovery. Besides," Miller hesitated, "let us give the devil his due. +Spencer was evidently very much attached to Kathleen. With her image +before him, I do not believe he spared a thought for the French maid." + +Whitney looked his disbelief. "In this instance, I cannot speak well of +the dead," he said slowly. "I know too much of Spencer's past. He was not +above courting the maid and the mistress at the same time." + +"Well, at least Spencer was no fool; if he did court Julie, it was not +done in this house." Miller tossed his cigar stub into the ash receiver. +"It might be that he used the maid to assist him in securing information +about your inventions." + +"You may be right." Whitney started from his chair. "And Julie, perhaps +believing in his protestations of affection at first, awoke to his +duplicity, and took the occasion of his spying to kill him." + +"Yes, that's about my idea." + +"But--but--" Whitney turned bewildered eyes on his companion. "What +prompted Spencer to desire to steal my inventions?" + +"That we have still to learn. That he did try, I am as convinced as if I +had seen him." Miller picked up another cigar. "And, Mr. Whitney, permit +me to call attention to one very essential fact...." + +"Go on," urged Whitney. + +"That what Spencer failed to accomplish, others may." + +"Nonsense." + +"It is very far from nonsense." Miller's earnestness impressed Whitney. +"I do not for one moment believe that Spencer was working alone." + +"You hint at conspiracy?" Whitney frowned perplexedly. + +"Call it that if you wish; only, sir, take every precaution to safeguard +your inventions from prying eyes." + +"I have, already." + +"How, for instance?" + +"With double locks, iron shutters, and electric wires, my workshop is +hermetically sealed." + +"Until a clever thief gains entrance." Miller laughed faintly. "The +science of house-breaking keeps step with modern inventions to protect +property. What one man can conceive another man can fathom." + +"You may be right." Whitney took a short turn about the room, then +stopped in front of his companion. "What precautions would you suggest?" + +Miller did not answer immediately. "It is very likely that another +attempt will be made to secure the drawings and specifications of your +inventions, if not your models," he said finally. "And if on guard, you +may not only catch the thief but Spencer's murderer." + +"A good idea," acknowledged Whitney. "But how would you suggest going +about to catch the thief?" + +"By laying a plot for him; forget to lock your studio door +occasionally, lay prepared paper inconspicuously about, and powder your +tables and floor with fine dust. The thief will leave an indelible +trail behind him." + +"And walk off with all necessary data," answered Whitney skeptically. "As +clever a thief as you paint will never leave that room, once he is inside +it, without full knowledge of my inventions." + +"The thief will not have an opportunity of stealing what he came for, +because the specifications and drawings of your inventions will not +be there." + +"Eh!" Whitney's cigar fell unheeded to the floor. "Where will they be?" + +"In my possession." + +Too astounded to speak, Whitney stared at his companion. It was over a +minute before he recovered himself. + +"Do you think I will trust you with the drawings and models of my latest +inventions?" he asked. + +"You did not withhold your consent when, a short time ago, I asked for +Kathleen's hand in marriage," said Miller slowly. "Do you hold your +inventions dearer than your daughter's future happiness, which you are +willing to intrust to my care?" + +Never taking his eyes from his companion's face Whitney stepped back. The +seconds lengthened into minutes before he spoke. "Come upstairs," he said +and, turning, made for the closed door. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +THE YELLOW STREAK + + +Leaving the War Department, Detective Mitchell debated for a second +whether to walk around the back of the White House grounds to the +Municipal Building, or to go to Pennsylvania Avenue and take an east +bound electric car. But there was no sign of let-up in the pelting rain, +and pulling his coat collar up about his ears, he hastened toward the +avenue, and at sight of an approaching car broke into a run. The usually +empty sidewalks were filled with hurrying government employees, anxious +to get their luncheon and return in the prescribed half-hour to the +State, War, and Navy Departments, and the detective had some difficulty +in dodging the pedestrians. + +Seeing an opening among the lowered umbrellas, he stepped off the curb +and dashed for the street car. He was almost by its side when the +hoarse sound of a motor siren smote his ear, and glancing sideways, he +saw a touring car bearing down upon him at full speed. In trying to +spring backward his foot slipped on the wet asphalt and he sprawled +forward on his knees. The automobile was almost upon him when strong +hands jerked him safely to one side. Scrambling to his feet, Mitchell +turned to look at the man whose strength and quickness had saved him +from a nasty accident. + +"Much obliged, Captain Miller," he said. "I owe you a great deal." + +Miller stooped over and picked up the detective's hat. "Why don't you +chaps arrest such speeders?" he inquired, pointing to the vanishing car. + +"We do in most cases," returned Mitchell, brushing the mud from his +trousers, and limping back to the sidewalk. "However, the driver of that +car is exempt." + +"Why?" + +"We can't arrest a United States Senator." + +"Ah, then you got his number." Miller led the way to the sidewalk. + +"That car doesn't need a number to identify it," grumbled Mitchell. "Its +color and shape are too distinctive. We on the force call it the 'Yellow +Streak.' The car belongs to Senator Randall Foster; when he's at the +wheel, the Lord help the pedestrians!" + +"So it would seem," dryly. "Where are you going, Mitchell?" observing +the detective's rather shaken appearance. + +"To the Municipal Building." + +"Suppose you come and lunch with me first at the Occidental," and the +smile which accompanied the invitation was very persuasive. "It's near +where you are going." + +Mitchell had not lunched, and a hurried breakfast had been consumed +before six o'clock. It was his hunger which had occasioned his haste to +reach the Municipal Building and later a near-by cafe. His official +business was not very pressing, and since meeting Miller at the +Whitneys' two days before, he had heard of his attentions to Kathleen +Whitney. The rumor had interested him as much as Miller's personality. +Promptly he accepted Miller's invitation, and the two men boarded the +next downtown car. + +Within a short time they were both eating an appetizing lunch in the +attractive restaurant of the Occidental. Just before the arrival of +coffee and cheese, Mitchell sat back in his chair with a sigh of physical +content. The Martini had warmed his chilled body, and the lassitude which +comes after a hearty meal was stealing over him. Miller had proved an +agreeable companion, able to talk upon any subject--except one, in spite +of the detective's hints in its direction. Their table was in one corner +apart from the others, and there was no danger of their conversation +being overheard. Taking in their isolated position at a glance, the +detective changed his tactics. + +"I saw you at the Spencer inquest," he said abruptly, applying a match to +his cigar. "What do you think of the verdict?" + +"What every sane man thinks," answered Miller. "That the prosecution will +have to secure more material and tangible proof before it can secure an +indictment by the Grand Jury." + +"I'm not so certain of that," responded the detective, ruffled by +Miller's casual manner. "Our evidence against Miss Whitney was pretty +conclusive." + +"It would have been just as conclusive if applied to any other inhabitant +of the Whitney house that night." + +"Hardly." Mitchell smiled broadly. "I fear your friendship blinds you to +the danger in which Miss Whitney stands." + +Miller refrained from answering until their waiter had served the coffee +and cheese and departed. "Circumstantial evidence will not always +convict--fortunately," he said, helping himself to the Camembert. "What +have you proved...." + +"That Spencer was Miss Whitney's rejected lover," broke in Mitchell. +"That the knife belonged to her; that she tried to remove incriminating +blood stains on his shirt with her perfumed handkerchief; and that he +held in his hand a flower, possibly broken from the bouquet which she was +wearing at the time." + +"It sounds formidable," commented Miller quietly. "But there are a number +of flaws. You have _not_ absolutely proved that the knife belonged to +Miss Whitney, only proved that it is probable she might have owned it. +Wait"--as Miller started to interrupt. "The deputy coroner testified that +Spencer was killed by cyanide of potassium." + +"Which, as Spencer did not swallow it, was administered by aid of the +knife," retorted Mitchell hastily. + +"The deputy coroner said he found no trace of the poison on the knife +blade." Miller paused to refill Mitchell's coffee cup. "Secondly, +cyanide of potassium is not a drug which Miss Whitney would be apt to +have around." + +"I saw a half-filled bottle of it in Whitney's work-shop last Wednesday." + +"Quite true, I saw it there myself," admitted Miller. "I also saw that +Whitney kept his studio workshop under lock and key." + +"To outsiders; but it is just possible he is not so strict about the +members of his household, his testimony to the contrary," argued +Mitchell. "The point is not well taken, Captain, and even if it were," he +stirred his coffee thoughtfully, "Miss Whitney did not need to enter her +father's workshop to secure the cyanide of potassium; I find she buys all +his photographic supplies at a shop not far from here, and recently +purchased a new supply of cyanide." + +"Purely circumstantial evidence," responded Miller, keeping his +expression unaltered by an effort. The detective's last statement had +startled him. "In regard to the flower which Spencer held in his hand: +you say it was probably broken from the bouquet which she wore at the +time of committing the crime--I am, for the sake of argument only, +admitting that she might be guilty. The medical evidence went to prove +that Spencer was killed between three and four in the morning; it is +straining probabilities to claim that a young girl, in donning her +wrapper, pinned on a bouquet of flowers." + +"How do you know she was not fully dressed? It was not so late in the +morning; she could have gone to bed after the crime, or she may not have +gone to bed at all." + +"All supposition," scoffed Miller. + +"Not quite all." The detective, nettled by his jeering smile, spoke +hastily. "On further inquiry I learned from one of the servants +today that Miss Whitney had on the same dress Wednesday morning, +when her screams aroused the household, which she wore at dinner the +night before." + +"Ah, indeed?" Miller's smile had ceased to be skeptical, it was strained. +"And which servant imparted that information to you?" + +"Henry, the chauffeur." + +"For a chauffeur, Henry seems to know a great deal about what transpires +inside the Whitney house," observed Miller thoughtfully. "Tell me, +Mitchell, what motive do you attribute to Miss Whitney for the killing of +Sinclair Spencer?" + +Mitchell looked uncomfortable, and it was not until Miller repeated his +question that he spoke. "I believe Spencer persuaded Miss Whitney to meet +him clandestinely that night, and threatened to compromise her if she +refused again to marry him." + +"Oh, come!" Miller spoke more roughly than he realized. "Wake up, +Mitchell; you've been reading penny dreadfuls. Try and think up a motive +which will hold water." + +The detective flushed. "That is quite motive enough," he said. "If Miss +Whitney takes the stand in her own defense she can, on that motive, enter +a plea of killing to protect her honor...." + +"And any jury in the country would acquit her," broke in Miller. "She +would...." + +"Thus escape the gallows," finished the detective. + +"But I can suggest an even better solution of the problem," put in Miller +suavely, although his fingers itched to choke his companion. + +"And that is--?" + +"That the detective force find the guilty party." + +Mitchell suppressed a smile. "And where would you suggest that we hunt +for this guilty party?" he asked. "Provided he or she is still at large, +and not out on bail under indictment." + +"Search among the men and women who spent Wednesday night at the +Whitneys', servants as well as guests." + +"Captain," in his earnestness Mitchell leaned across the table, "it is +contrary to all records of crime that a man or woman will commit murder +without motive...." + +"You forget homicidal maniacs." + +"True, but they do not belong in this category," protested Mitchell. +"No person in that house, except Miss Whitney, had a motive for +killing Spencer." + +"Motives are not always on the surface; I advise you to investigate ..." + +"Yes--?" eagerly. + +"Is it true that arc lights have been installed at the United States +navy yards and arsenals, which make them as light as day on the +darkest night?" + +"I believe so." Mitchell glanced perplexedly at his companion. Why was he +changing the conversation? + +"And that visitors are not encouraged to loiter on government +reservations?" + +"I believe such an order has been issued," conceded the detective. + +"Also visitors are forbidden at the Government Radio Station at +Arlington?" + +"Yes." + +"And still there is a leak--government secrets are secrets no longer." + +"How do you know that, Captain?" and the detective shot a look full of +suspicion at him. + +"I only know what Senator Foster has told me," carelessly. "I believe +Foster's advice has been sought in the matter." + +"And why did he confide in you?" + +"He desired my help," responded Miller. "Seemed to think my opinion might +be worth something, but, honestly, Mitchell, I can't see anything to this +secret leak business--the Secret Service operatives are putting a scare +over on the government." + +"It's more than that, sir. No more coffee," and the detective, his sudden +doubts dispelled by Miller's sunny smile, leaned back once more in his +chair. "It seems that officials here are awakening to the realization +that government secrets are being betrayed. If the American troops are +ordered to a certain point on the border, the order is known in Mexico +before it is executed. It is the same with coded communications to +Foreign Powers. The movements of our fleet are known to foreign naval +attaches even before the maneuvers are carried out. The whereabouts of +the smallest torpedo boat and submarine is no secret--to any but the +American people." + +"Is that so?" Miller looked politely incredulous. "And is the Secret +Service not investigating the matter?" + +"Sure; they'll handle it all right." Mitchell twisted about in his chair. +"At present, Captain, my entire attention is claimed by the Spencer +murder. Where would you suggest that I begin my search among Whitney's +household for a motive which will explain the murder?" + +"Why not try and find Julie, the French maid?" + +The eagerness died out of Mitchell's face. "We are trying," he said. "But +we can convict Miss Whitney without her evidence." + +"So you think Julie's testimony will implicate Miss Whitney still further +in the crime?" + +"I do. I have no doubt she is accessory after the fact, and, provided +with funds by Miss Whitney, stole away so as not to give evidence +against her." + +"You have a curious conception of human nature, Mitchell," was Miller's +only comment as he signed to their waiter to bring his check. He did not +speak again until he and the detective were in the street. "You have +overlooked a very important point, Mitchell, in your investigation of +Spencer's murder." + +"What is that?" + +"You apparently believe that Miss Whitney murdered Spencer between three +and four in the morning and then went back to her bedroom ..." + +"Go on," urged Mitchell. + +"At the inquest all witnesses testified that Miss Whitney was the first +to find Spencer and that she was in the elevator with him." Miller spoke +with impressiveness. "Even the most hardened criminal would not have +deliberately walked into that elevator and shut himself in with the man +he had murdered a short time before--and yet, you argue that a highly +strung, delicately nurtured girl did exactly that. It's preposterous!" + +"It does sound cold-blooded," admitted the detective. "It is just +possible that after committing the crime, she lost consciousness and +remained in the elevator all night...." + +"Talk sense!" ejaculated Miller disgustedly and, without waiting to hear +the detective's thanks for his luncheon, turned on his heel and hurried +up Fourteenth Street. Mitchell watched his tall, erect figure out of +sight with absorbed attention. + +"I'd give a lot to know who he suspects murdered Spencer," he muttered +under his breath, and started for the Municipal Building. + +As Miller approached his hotel, he thought he saw Foster's yellow touring +car move away from the ladies' entrance. After procuring his mail he went +at once to his room. He was about to open his letters when his eyes fell +on an open drawer of his desk. Putting down the bundle in his hand, he +carefully investigated every pigeonhole and drawer. The papers he looked +for were missing. + +Rising quickly, Miller examined the windows of his room and bathroom. +They were securely fastened on the inside. In deep thought he went out +into the hall to where the floor chambermaid and a companion were sitting +in full view of his door. + +"Have you been here long?" he asked. + +"Yes, sir," replied the elder girl. "I've been on duty here ever +since noon, and Mary," laying her hand on her companion, "was here +all the morning." + +"Has either of you seen anyone enter my bedroom?" + +"No, sir, only yourself, sir," answered the first speaker, and Mary +echoed her words. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +THE AWAKENING + + +The prospect was uninviting at any time and to Julie, who had stared at +the rows of slatternly kept backyards until she grew familiar with each +battered garbage can, the sight was hateful. The rain had driven even the +starved alley cats to cover, and with a sigh forlorn in its wretchedness, +she turned from the window and contemplated her nicely furnished bedroom. +The two days she had been there had passed on leaden feet. Captain +Miller's money had secured her a haven of refuge--food and a roof over +her head--but had deprived her of liberty and the daily newspaper. The +first had been the only restriction he had placed upon her acceptance of +his bounty. His plea--protect Kathleen--had found a ready echo in her +loyal heart, and blindly she had obeyed him. + +The first day had passed in numb resignation, then had followed the +reaction. As she recovered from bodily fatigue there came a quickening of +the blood, and in spite of the cold driving rain, a longing for the +out-of-doors possessed her. + +Since the breaking out of the great world war, with its invasion of +Belgium and her beloved France, she had become an inveterate newspaper +reader, and during the days of "extras" she had formed the habit of +depending upon them. From day to day, month to month, she had followed +the ever shifting, always fighting forces on the firing line, and her +knowledge of the situation in Europe would have shamed some of the +students of the times. Her own personal loss and agonizing sorrow had +been engulfed in her acceptance of the world's tragedy, but it had made +adamantine her desire to serve France. + +Forty-eight hours had passed and she had not seen a daily paper. She had +asked her landlady, Mrs. Robinson, for the loan of her _Star_, only to be +told that Mrs. Robinson never took it. She had thereupon presented her +with three cents and asked her to secure the morning papers. But Mrs. +Robinson, on her return from market earlier in the day, had forgotten to +comply with her request. The one servant, when appealed to in the hall, +had promised to get her an evening _Times_, but on inquiry, Mrs. Robinson +had informed her that the woman had finished her work and gone home. + +What was happening in Europe? Had the Allies attempted the drive hinted +at during the winter months? Had Italy cast her lot with the Allies? +Julie's restlessness increased as each question remained unanswered. From +whom could she get a newspaper? Mrs. Robinson had assured her that she +was the only boarder in the house, and on the one occasion on which she +had left her room, she had seen no one but the servant. The latter had +gone out, and Mrs. Robinson had not responded to her call ten minutes +before. Julie sighed again and gazed wearily out over the backyards; then +a thought came to her. Why not go to a front window and hail a newsboy; +there might be one in the vicinity? + +With brightened eyes Julie left her room and, walking down the hall, +turned the knob of the door opposite her own. It would not open. +Bethinking herself, Julie rapped timidly on the door panel; then +receiving no reply, she rapped again. No voice nor footstep responded to +the summons; apparently the room was empty. Considerably perplexed, Julie +turned and made her way to the second bedroom floor. Quickly she rapped +at each closed door and tried its knob. Each door was locked and her +repeated raps went unanswered. In the fourth floor she met with the same +results, and, returning again to the stairs, she made her way down them +almost at a run. + +The silent and apparently empty house frightened her, and it was with a +fast beating heart that she made her way to the ground floor and into +the drawing-room. Its sumptuous furnishings astounded her. Mrs. Robinson +had neither the air nor the well-dressed appearance of a woman of +wealth. From her swarthy skin and black eyes and hair Julie had taken +her for a Creole. + +The stair door leading to the basement was not locked, and Julie laid a +hesitating hand on it. Should she seek Mrs. Robinson in the kitchen? +Almost without her own volition she released her hold on the knob and +retraced her steps to the front door. She needed air; the silent house +was getting on her nerves. She suddenly remembered the noises she had +heard in the night and which, in the morning, she had attributed to her +feverish condition. + +Noiselessly she removed the night latch and slipped into the vestibule. +She stood for a moment filling her lungs with the cold refreshing air, +then bethinking herself, stepped behind the closed section of the outer +door. She must not be seen by a chance policeman. As she stepped back her +foot encountered a small bundle, and she looked down. Joy of joys! It +was a folded newspaper. As she opened it she saw in the dim light of dusk +the red letter stamping: "Subscriber's copy." What had Mrs. Robinson +meant by telling her she did not take newspapers? + +Not pausing to worry further over that problem, she hastily scanned the +first page of the five-thirty edition of the _Times_; and her eyes +dilated as she read the scare headings: + +SPENCER'S WILL OFFERED FOR PROBATE + +KATHLEEN WHITNEY, CONVICTED BY CORONER'S JURY, IS RESIDUARY LEGATEE OF +MURDERED CLUBMAN + +SOCIETY GIRL OUT ON BAIL FURNISHED BY SENATOR FOSTER + +Too stunned to move or cry out, Julie stared dumbly at the newspaper. +Kathleen Whitney, her kind friend rather than employer, was +convicted--then her absence had not benefited her? Captain Miller's +advice had been wrong. Her faith in him was misplaced. To what had he +brought her? She cast a terrified look at the partly closed door behind +her. Better jail than--The thought of jail brought her whirling senses +back to Kathleen. But Kathleen was not in jail; the paper stated that she +was out on bail. If at home, she could be reached. + +Utterly regardless of her hatless condition, she dragged the shawl, +previously borrowed from Mrs. Robinson, over her head, and closing the +front door, bolted up the street, the newspaper still clutched in her +hand. Darkness was closing in, and the rain had driven the few +pedestrians usually in that location scurrying to their homes. Julie was +five or more blocks from the Robinson house when she saw a yellow touring +car draw up to the opposite curb and a man spring out. He paused for a +second to examine one of the lamps and its light threw his face in bold +relief against the darkness. It was Henry, the chauffeur. Julie shrank +back behind a tree-box, muffling her face in the friendly shawl. But the +precaution was unnecessary, for Henry did not glance toward her as he +hastened around the touring car and entered a near-by house. + +For some seconds Julie stood peering doubtfully in the direction he had +gone. Why was Henry driving a car other than the Whitneys'? Had they, by +chance, discharged him? Or was he up to some particular deviltry? Her +latent distrust of Henry and her suspicions as to his nationality surged +uppermost, and not waiting to count the cost, she darted across the +street and peered into the empty touring car. Opening the door, Julie +climbed into the tonneau and, seating herself on the floor, pulled the +heavy laprobe over her. Thus protected, she sat in the darkened interior +of the car for what seemed an interminable time. The slam of a door and +the sound of approaching footsteps caused her to half rise and peep +through the storm window. At sight of Henry standing by the bonnet +lighting his pipe she sank hastily back and secreted herself under the +laprobe. His pipe drawing to his satisfaction, Henry, with barely a +backward glance into the dark tonneau, stowed himself behind the steering +wheel and started the car up the street. + +Baron Frederic von Fincke looked from his bank book to his companion, a +pleasant-featured, gray-haired man. "The balance is low," he said. + +"I come with unlimited financial credit," and the short, stockily built +man drew from an inside pocket a leather cardcase and passed it to the +Baron, who read its contents carefully before returning it. + +"I am glad you have arrived, Hartzmann," he volunteered. "As a diplomatic +center Washington is dull. I call at the State Department--no news; it is +not in touch with secret history." + +"My dear Baron, what can you expect?" Hartzmann shrugged his shoulders +amusedly. "Trained diplomats do not confide state secrets to a premier +who derives his income from a newspaper and the lecture platform." + +"True. Diplomat and politician are synonymous in America; oil and water +would sooner mix in the Old World." Von Fincke carefully replaced his +bank book in a dispatch-box. "Your friend, Captain von Mueller, has won +many friends during his sojourn in Washington." + +"A brilliant man; he will go far." Hartzmann rubbed his hands with +satisfaction. "His work in England will not be forgotten. He has courage, +and the instinct of the hunter; he never blunders." + +"High praise," said von Fincke. "I am the more glad to hear it because I +have intrusted a most delicate mission to him--the securing of Whitney's +_latest_ invention"--with peculiar meaning. "My other efforts in that +line having proved failures." Quickly he forestalled the question he saw +coming, "And your plan of campaign, Hartzmann, what of it?" + +"First, let me give you this," taking several papers from his vest +pocket. "It is a list of factories throughout the United States supplying +munitions of war to the Allies. You may find it useful." + +"Thanks." Von Fincke read the paper with minute care before placing it +inside his dispatch-box. "A concerted movement has been commenced by us +to secure a majority control of many of these plants." + +"In several instances it is planned to buy the great gun and munition +factories outright," explained Hartzmann. "Our agents are already trying +to engage the output of munitions until 1916, so that even if the United +States requires powder and high explosives, it will be impossible to +supply the Government." + +"Anything, anything to stop the supply going to the Allies." Von Fincke +emphasized his words with a characteristic gesture. + +"Our work is already telling." Hartzmann carefully replaced several +papers in an inside pocket. "In Russia, the men of the first Russian +reserve have to wait before engaging the enemy until the Russian soldiers +in the outer trenches are _dead_ so as to get their guns and ammunition +to fight with." + +"Excellent!" and von Fincke beamed with pleasure. + +"I shall instigate strikes in the munitions factories," continued +Hartzmann. "Tell me, how have you succeeded with the passports?" + +Von Fincke's expression changed. "Not so well as I hoped. The Secret +Service are active in investigating all that are issued. It is difficult +to circulate them under such espionage." + +"It is risky," agreed Hartzmann. "Our agents have opened headquarters in +New York. We hope to destroy by means of fire bombs British ships +clearing from American ports." + +"If that is accomplished, it will lend material aid to our war zone +policy," exulted von Fincke. + +"And later on we hope to establish the American seaports as bases for a +fleet of naval auxiliaries, loaded with supplies for our swift submarines +and cruisers. I am making arrangements for taking care of the necessary +clearance papers." + +"Excellent!" ejaculated von Fincke for the second time, and opened a +notebook which he took from his dispatch-box. "Our reservists in this +country report regularly. Under the guise of rifle clubs they keep +themselves in excellent practice. Bodies of them are unobtrusively +seeking employment along the Canadian border." + +"Well done; it is a wise move." Hartzmann helped himself to a cigar. +"What about this Spencer mystery, Baron? As our agent in Mexican affairs +he received a small fortune. Does not his death come at a most +unfortunate moment?" + +Von Fincke pursed up his lips. "No. Spencer was a good tool, but +sometimes too inquisitive; however, I shall not be sorry if Miss Whitney +receives the full penalty for her crime." The two men regarded each other +in silence for a brief second, then von Fincke added: "From reports which +have reached me, I judge the mine is well laid, and Mexico will yet prove +troublesome to her northern neighbor." + +"And useful to us," mused Hartzmann. "The United States when angry with +Germany will make war--on Mexico." + +"Perhaps," skeptically, "but to me it appears intervention in Mexico will +hang fire until ..." + +"Engineered," Hartzmann smiled meaningly. "Huerta will leave shortly for +the Panama-Pacific Exposition, and then ..." Not completing his sentence, +he pointed to a paragraph near the bottom of the first page of the +_Times_ which lay spread on the table by him. "The Sisters in Unity, I +see, is a strictly neutral organization for peace at any price." + +"The dear ladies!" Mockingly von Fincke's hand rose in salute. "They are +the best propagandists in the country, and Senator Foster proves an able +advocate of peace--when urged by a woman." + +"He is a clever speaker," agreed Hartzmann. + +"Most men in public life have their uses. Have you nothing to report of +the pernicious activities of the United States Government?" + +Without replying von Fincke pressed the button of his electric bell. "Is +Heinrich here?" he asked a moment later as his servant entered. + +"Yes, Baron." + +"Then show him in." Von Fincke turned back to his guest. "A clever man, +Heinrich, and useful. Come in," as a discreet tap sounded on the door; +and the chauffeur, carefully closing the door, saluted. "Any news of the +Atlantic fleet, Heinrich?" + +"Its departure for the Panama-Pacific Exposition at San Francisco via the +Panama Canal has been indefinitely postponed." + +"The Department must have awakened to the fact that if sent there the +fleet would have to return by rail," growled von Fincke. "There is not +enough coal in California at present to supply the fleet--the battleships +and cruisers could not escape from attack, but might even be captured at +the dock." + +"Have you learned where the fleet will be sent?" asked Hartzmann, +watching the chauffeur narrowly. + +"It is to go to New York for a grand review, Herr Captain." + +"Ah, a mobilization?" + +"No, Herr Captain; I think not. The reserve fleet will be missing." + +"Will the President review the fleet?" + +"It is so believed, Herr Captain." + +Von Fincke, who had been silently eyeing his companions, stood up. +"Would that not give us an opportunity to bottle up the fleet in the +North River by slipping down one of our biggest ocean steamers and +sinking her in the channel?" + +"It might be done," but Hartzmann looked doubtful. "The Harbor Police of +New York are vigilant. I fear the warping of a great steamer from her +berth would attract instant attention." + +"Not if properly engineered, Hartzmann." A soft tap at the door +interrupted von Fincke. "Come in," he called. + +"Captain von Mueller," announced the valet, and von Fincke advanced +eagerly to meet the newcomer. + +"Welcome, Herr Captain. I hoped that you would get my note in time." + +"I found it on my return to the hotel. Hartzmann, well met." Von Mueller +returned the older man's firm clasp. "It is some years...." + +"Years? What are they when old friends foregather," exclaimed Hartzmann. +"Let us sit and talk." + +"Wait, wait," remonstrated von Fincke. "Heinrich," turning to the +chauffeur, who stood respectfully waiting, "did you learn the strength of +the fleet?" + +"Of the thirty-five United States battleships, only twenty-one are in +commission and ready for emergency," he said. "Of these twenty-one three +have broken shafts, and the fourth is a turbine engine battleship, which +needs overhauling." + +"Is this all the fighting strength of the United States navy?" questioned +Hartzmann, jotting down the figures in a notebook. + +"No, Herr Captain; there are seventy fighting craft; but not in +commission and all require overhauling. Half of the submarines will +not--er--'sub,' so to speak." A ghost of a smile crossed Heinrich's lips. +"The complement of torpedo vessels has been reduced from fifteen to +twenty-five per cent, and the Atlantic Fleet needs five thousand men." + +"Interesting data," said von Mueller. "I congratulate you, Heinrich. What +of the army?" + +"Nothing definite to report today, Herr Captain. If rumor speaks truly, +discontent will shortly reduce the standing army to a man and a mule." + +"A mule can fight on occasions," laughed von Mueller. + +"But not against trained men, backed up by field guns firing in one hour +two hundred thousand shells carrying high explosives," boasted Hartzmann +triumphantly. "Weapons such as these, von Mueller, alter the face of +nature as well as the fate of nations." + +"Any further news tonight, Heinrich?" asked von Fincke. + +"No, Baron." The chauffeur saluted. "Any orders?" + +"A moment," broke in von Mueller. "I will be at the Whitney residence +tonight, Heinrich; see that I am admitted," he added, observing the +slight change in the chauffeur's expression. + +"It can be arranged, Herr Captain," hastily. "I was but thinking of +Julie--the French she-devil. Should she come ..." + +"She will not return." Von Mueller spoke with confidence. "I have +convinced her that she will better protect Miss Whitney by remaining in +hiding, thus directing attention to herself as the criminal." + +"But will she not read the papers?" touching the _Times_. + +"No; the landlady will keep them from her." + +"The police are ransacking the town for her," persisted Heinrich. + +"They will not find Julie"--von Mueller lowered his voice. "They never +investigate Robinson's." + +"So!" Von Fincke elevated his eyebrows, and his smile was not pleasant. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +THE FINGER PRINT + + +Kathleen Whitney breathed inward thanks when dinner was over. It had been +a trying ordeal on top of an agonizing day. Cloistered in her room with +only her sad thoughts for company, she had been relieved to find that +Miss Kiametia Grey had been prevailed upon by Mrs. Whitney to prolong her +afternoon visit to include a family dinner. But the spinster's endeavor +to divert her by relating society gossip finally palled, and she +permitted her thoughts to stray to other scenes. + +"Did you receive your invitation to the Morton reception, Kathleen?" +asked Miss Kiametia, breaking off her conversation with Mrs. Whitney with +her customary abruptness, and startling Kathleen back to the present. + +"Yes--no; I don't know," was her confused reply. + +"It is here." Mrs. Whitney went into the library and returned with a +large envelope. + +"What night?" Miss Kiametia took the card and examined its heavily +embossed surface with interest. "_Nouveau riche_ stamped all over it, as +well as R.S.V.P.--'Real Slick Vittles, People,'" and she laughed +disdainfully. + +"All the trimmings." Mrs. Whitney replaced the card in its envelope. "I +have written our regrets. I understand the reception is given to announce +the engagement of Mona Morton to some South American Monte Cristo." + +"Speaking of engagements," Whitney turned to the spinster, "what about +you and Randall Foster, Kiametia?" + +"I shall never marry." Miss Kiametia's half bantering tone dropped, and +the eyes she turned to Kathleen were shadowed with a haunting regret. +"The habits of a life-time cannot be broken." + +"Oh, Kiametia!" exclaimed Mrs. Whitney in open disappointment. "Senator +Foster is splendid--and I had hoped--_why_ do you discourage his +attentions?" + +"Can't stand the way he wears his hair," announced Miss Kiametia with an +air of finality which warned against further discussion. + +"Marry him and make him change his barber," advised Whitney rising. "I +have to go out, Minna; you and Kathleen must not wait up for me. Good +night, Kiametia; Henry is downstairs, he can take you home in the car, +if you wish. See you tomorrow," and he moved toward the door. After a +brief hesitation Kathleen followed him into the hall. + +"Must you go out, Dad?" she asked helping him with his overcoat. "It is +still stormy tonight, and I feel lonely"--her voice broke, and turning +Whitney impulsively took her in his arms. + +"My darling little girl." He stopped and steadied his voice as he kissed +her tenderly. "There, don't worry, trust old Dad to put things +straight--as he did your broken dollies. Go early to bed, dear, and get +some rest." + +"Rest!" Kathleen strove to suppress all trace of bitterness. "Now, don't +have me on your mind; come home early," and she returned his kiss and +went slowly back into the drawing-room, as the front door closed after +her father. + +"We are going up to my boudoir, Kathleen; won't you come, dear?" asked +Mrs. Whitney. + +"Not just now, mother; I want to talk to Vincent when he gets the table +cleared away." + +"I envy you, Vincent," chimed in Miss Kiametia. "Such an excellent +servant. Oh, Minna, don't go to the elevator; suppose we walk upstairs." + +Left by herself Kathleen went in search of Vincent. He was not in the +pantry, but judging by the still unwashed dishes that he was probably +eating his supper in the kitchen, she refrained from calling him +upstairs, and walked listlessly back into the drawing-room. + +Sick at heart, utterly discouraged, she threw herself down on the large +sofa and sank back among the pillows. Throughout the long day she had +tried to banish all thought of Charles Miller. It was hopeless; his image +was in her heart as well as before her mental vision. To some women it is +given to love lightly, tasting but the essence, while to others love is a +lifetime of steadfast devotion. And that winter had brought to Kathleen +her one great passion; for weal or for woe she had given her heart to +Charles Miller, and she must drain the cup to the bitter dregs. + +With the gradual awakening to the belief that Charles Miller was really a +blackguard, a--she shuddered, and raised her hands as if to ward off an +overwhelming horror. And he had dared to approach her that morning with +loving words on his lips. His eyes had met hers frankly--there had been +no effort to avoid, no show of fear--no, he was only facing a loyal +woman. Kathleen choked back a moan. Truly, he understood the art of +dissimulation. If she had not known of his duplicity, of his guilt, his +expression as he addressed her that morning would have proclaimed him +innocent of all wrongdoing. His expression, ah, it had been that which +had sowed a little seed of hope in her heart. Perhaps she could sketch +his face as he appeared that morning, again catch the expression that +inspired confidence in spite of all. + +She sat bolt upright and glanced eagerly about for a scrap of paper and a +pencil. The white back of a magazine on a lamp table caught her eye and +she went toward it. By the lamp lay Miss Kiametia's gold mesh purse, +vanity box, and pencil. Kathleen snatched up the dangling baubles and the +magazine and returned to the sofa. If only she could get her impression +down on paper before remembrance faded! She could copy it at her leisure. +She jerked feverishly at the gold pencil, and as she pulled it out laid +its point on the white paper--and then sat petrified. It was a hypodermic +needle. Some seconds passed before she moved; then she raised the gold +cylinder--outwardly it resembled a pencil, inside were concealed the +syringe and needle. With anxious haste she manipulated its delicate +mechanism, and slipped back the needle to its hiding place. + +Forgotten for the moment was her own problem. Brilliant, gifted Kiametia +Grey a drug fiend--Oh, the pity of it! In the light of her discovery +Kathleen remembered many idiosyncrasies which the drug habit would +explain; often that winter she had found Miss Kiametia dozing in her +chair at the theater, at dinners, in motors, but had put it down to +over-fatigue from too much social gayety. Miss Kiametia's variable likes +and dislikes, her sudden whims and fancies, her irritability--all were +traceable to the same cause. + +The sound of her name caused Kathleen to raise her head with a start. +Henry, the chauffeur, was standing just inside the hall door. + +"Beg pardon, Miss Kathleen," he said. "Mrs. Whitney wished me to tell you +that Miss Grey will spend the night here and has retired to her bedroom. +And I was to ask you if you had any orders for the motor tomorrow." + +"No, none, thanks. As you go downstairs, tell Vincent that I wish +to see him." + +"Vincent has gone, Miss Kathleen." Meeting her quick glance, he added, +"It is his evening out." + +"Oh! Please ask Rosa to stop in my room before she goes to bed." + +"Very good, Miss Kathleen." As he turned to leave, the loud buzz of the +front doorbell sounded. Not waiting to hear the directions Kathleen +called after him, Henry darted into the hall. + +Picking up Miss Kiametia's gold purse and the hypodermic needle, Kathleen +replaced them on the table, but halfway to the hall door she hesitated. +Should she not take them to Miss Kiametia? Suppose Henry, for instance, +should take it into his head to examine them? At the thought Kathleen's +face hardened, and she returned to pick up Miss Kiametia's property. +Henry's voice from the doorway arrested her. + +"Captain Miller," he announced, and retired. + +Kathleen stood as if carved from stone, every vestige of color +stricken from her. If her life had depended upon it, she could not +have turned around. + +"Have you no word for me?" asked the familiar voice, and Miller stepped +in front of her, his wistful eyes pleading for him. But Kathleen was +mute. Slowly, unwillingly his eyes dropped before her level gaze and +rested finally on the gold baubles in her hand. "Why do you not wear my +ring, Kathleen?" + +The question stung her out of the bewildered trance into which his +unexpected appearance had thrown her. + +"The ring was returned to you for good and sufficient reasons," she said +icily. "That you choose to ignore these reasons does not affect the +issue. Will you leave this house, or shall I ring for the servant?" + +"Kathleen, are you mad?" He whitened to the lips. "Think what you are to +me, dearly beloved; your words cut me like a knife." + +"Your similes are unfortunate," she stammered, with dry lips. "I do not +use knives. I leave that for others, the coroner's jury to the contrary." + +"Do you think the coroner's jury influenced my judgment, sweetheart? +Shame--I have more faith than you. I know that you are innocent of +Spencer's death." + +"You have every reason to know that I am innocent." Kathleen was +thoroughly roused. "It is not a question of faith on your part," +significantly. "I see no use in these discussions. It is better that we +do not meet. Again I ask you to go--forever." + +Without replying he turned and paced the room rapidly, hands in pocket, +head bent forward. Kathleen watched him with burning eyes and aching +heart. To outward seeming he had the attributes which make for success. +What mad blood-lust had made him throw the world away? + +"Suppose I accede to your unreasonable request, Kathleen," he said, +stopping before her. "Will you do something for me?" + +"Yes," huskily. + +"Then get from your father the specifications and drawings of his latest +invention for me." + +As if she had not heard aright, Kathleen stared at him. + +"Wh-what is it you ask?" she stammered. + +"The plans of your father's _latest_ invention," patiently. "I do not +mean the camera." + +"Either you or I are mad," she looked at him dazedly. "Do you realize +that my father would not give me those plans--that I should have to +steal them." + +"Expediency knows no law," he muttered, not meeting her eyes. "Call it +borrowing." Kathleen shrank back appalled. + +"Good God! That you should be so base!" she cried. "For more than +forty-eight hours I have closed my eyes to reason; deluded myself that +you acted from temporary mental aberration--that Sinclair Spencer's death +was unpremeditated. My impulse was to help--to save. Ah, you wooed me +well this winter." Her voice broke and she drew a long quivering breath. +"It is a pitiful thing to kill a woman's love. Some day, perhaps, I shall +be grateful to you. Go!" + +He flinched at the scorn in her voice, but stood his ground +doggedly. "Not until I get the drawings and specifications of the +invention," he answered. + +The slamming of the front door caused Kathleen to look in that +direction, and Henry's entrance the next instant stayed the words on her +parted lips. + +"A special delivery for you, Miss Kathleen," he said, "from the State +Department." + +Kathleen took the proffered envelope mechanically. + +"Wait, Henry," steadying her voice. "When Captain Miller calls again, he +is not to be admitted, under any pretense." + +"Very good, Miss Kathleen," and concealing his curiosity, the chauffeur +moved swiftly away. + +There was a pause which Miller broke. "Read your letter," he said +composedly. "I can wait." + +Kathleen was on the point of collapse; desperately she clung to her +remnant of composure. Hardly conscious of her action, she tore open the +outer envelope, and read the brief statement that the letter inclosed had +been sent to her, care of the Department of State. With some stirring of +curiosity not unmixed with dread, she examined the contents of the second +envelope. It read: + +"United Service Club, + +"London, England. + +"MY DEAR MISS WHITNEY: + +"I send the inclosed, forwarded to me by Major Seymour, who was until +recently a prisoner in Germany. My nephew, John Hargraves, was killed in +action. + +"Very truly yours, + +"Percival Hargraves." + +John dead! Her loyal friend dead--and killed in action! Through a blur of +tears Kathleen read the stained scrap of paper inclosed in the +Englishman's note: + +"DEAR KATHLEEN: + +"I saw Karl in London at Victoria Station. I swear it was he--warn +Uncle--Kathleen ... Kathleen...." + +Shaken with grief Kathleen raised her head and looked at her companion +sitting immovable in his chair. If he felt any interest in the letter +and her emotion, he did not evince it. Three years before, he, she, and +John Hargraves had been friends in Germany. John, the soul of honor, +loyal and unselfish in his friendship, had laid down his young life for +his country. His last dying word had been of her--to warn her.... +Kathleen stood erect, wrath drying the tears which affection had +brought. John had seen Karl in London in war times; there was but one +answer to the puzzle. + +"Captain Karl von Mueller," she said cuttingly, "to use the name by which +I knew you abroad, do you wish my father's invention for Germany?" + +"I do." Rising quietly, he faced her, stern and unyielding. "Why +dissemble any longer? Your father promised to sell it to us; then went +back on his given word. In handing me the invention you will but redeem +his pledge." + +"You have a strange conception of honor." Her eyes were blazing with +fury. "Your statement about my father is open to doubt. Captain von +Mueller, I give you forty-eight hours to leave this country before I +denounce you as a German spy." + +"Really?" His slow smile of unbelief caused her to writhe inwardly. "Do +you think the unsupported statement of a woman suspected of murder will +find credence?" Kathleen clenched John Hargraves' letter until her +knuckles shone white under the taut skin. "Secondly," he continued in the +same quiet tone, "you speak tonight only of this winter. Have you +forgotten our relationship in Germany?" + +"That is hardly the term for it," she said proudly. "I met you at the +house of a German schoolmate ..." + +"And our friendship rapidly ripened into love," he said softly, never +removing his gaze from her bloodless face. "Our walks in the meadows +about Berlin, our elopement ..." + +"But not our marriage," she burst in. "John Hargraves can testify that I +left you." + +"John Hargraves is dead." + +"True," she could hardly articulate. "But we were not married." + +"Quite so; that is my point--_I_ did not _marry_ you." + +Kathleen swayed upon her feet and threw out her hand blindly for support. +"You cur! you despicable cur!" she gasped. "Don't touch me." But though +she shrank from him, his strong hand steadied her toward the hall door. + +"Washington society is surfeited with scandal," he said. "When more +composed think of your father's latest invention." + +If she heard him she gave no sign. Mental torture had exhausted her +emotion. She never raised her head as he guided her to the staircase; her +eyes stared only at his open right hand. + +The house was dark except for the hall light burning dimly, when Winslow +Whitney inserted his latchkey and entered the front door. Removing hat +and overcoat, he made his way noiselessly to his studio in the attic. +With cautious movement he fingered the locks on his door. Would Miller's +plan for catching Spencer's murderer work out? According to their +arrangement he had left the door insecurely fastened. + +Just as he was about to creep into the room, he heard distinctly in the +stillness a whispered word in a voice his keen ear instantly recognized. +All idea of caution forgotten, he threw open the door and switched on the +electric light. To outward appearances the room was empty. + +Darting over to where he kept his secret papers, he lifted a powerful +Mazda lamp, the better to scan the prepared paper left where an +incautious thief would be obliged to rest his hand with some degree of +force. Under the powerful light the finger prints stood out distinct and +clear. But with eyes starting from his head, Whitney paused to snatch up +a magnifying glass, and by its aid examined the finger prints minutely. + +"It's--his--finger print--but the voice, my God! the voice.... Kathleen, +Kathleen!" A gurgle choked his utterance, and the magnifying glass +clattered beside him as he fell inertly on the floor. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +"TRENTON HURRY" + + +Charles Miller, completing a hurried toilet, paused at the sound of a +sharp rap on his bedroom door. + +"Come in," he called. "Ah, Henry, good morning," as the chauffeur stepped +briskly over the threshold. The latter's white face and agitated manner +indicated that he was the bearer of portentous news. Miller made a hasty +step in his direction. + +"Kathleen--is she ill?" he asked. + +The chauffeur looked to see that the bedroom door was securely fastened +before he answered. + +"It isn't Miss Kathleen," he answered cautiously. "Mr. Whitney has had +a stroke." + +"What?" Miller recoiled. "When?" + +"Some time last night." + +"Will he recover?" + +"Dr. McLane says that he cannot tell yet, Herr Captain. He was alive but +still unconscious when I left the house to come here." + +"What"--Miller looked anxiously at the chauffeur--"what brought on the +stroke? Mr. Whitney appeared to be in robust health when I saw him last." + +"The Doctor seemed to think it was caused by sudden shock, Herr Captain." +Henry stepped closer. "Miss Kiametia Grey found Mr. Whitney in his studio +lying on the floor unconscious." + +"Miss Grey found him!" Miller's eyes opened wide in astonishment. + +"Yes, Herr Captain; at four o'clock in the morning," with significant +emphasis, and the two men looked at each other. + +"And what was Miss Grey doing in the attic at that hour of the morning?" + +"She said she had gone upstairs to see Rosa, the cook, who was suffering +from a bilious attack early in the evening." + +"But," perplexedly, "if I remember correctly, Rosa testified at the +inquest that the servants' bedrooms are not in the attic but on the +floor beneath." + +"They are, Herr Captain. On answering the bell from Mr. Whitney's studio +I found Miss Grey there trying to revive him." + +"You answered the bell at four in the morning?" in surprise. "I +understood you did not sleep at the Whitneys'." + +"Nor do I, Herr Captain; but last night I took Vincent's place and +occupied his bedroom. When I reached the studio, I at first thought Mr. +Whitney dead," continued the chauffeur, after a slight pause, "and rushed +to summon a physician. On his arrival I assisted him to carry Mr. Whitney +to his bedroom." + +"Did you see Miss Kathleen?" + +"Not after giving her the special delivery letter"--Henry's sidelong +glance escaped Miller's attention--"when you were with her in the +drawing-room; but I did hear her talking to Mrs. Whitney and the nurse in +her father's bedroom just before I left the house to come here." + +"Keep me informed of what transpires at the Whitneys'," directed Miller, +picking up his coat. + +"Very well, Herr Captain. Permit me to help you." The chauffeur stepped +closer to his side and while assisting him, whispered: "Did you get the +invention?" + +Miller thrust his right arm into the coat sleeve with slow precision, and +his left arm into its sleeve with equal care before answering. + +"Yes." + +"God be praised!" Henry stepped back, his eyes snapping with delight. +"Ah, we will win it yet, that Cross!" he exulted; then cautiously took +from an inside pocket a folded sheet of letter paper and with care +removed from between the pages a piece of paper. "When Miss Grey was +occupied in her effort to revive Mr. Whitney I looked quickly about the +studio," he explained. "This paper caught my eye--and I bring it to you, +Herr Captain." + +"Thanks," laconically, laying the paper down on the desk. "One moment +before you go," and from a well-filled wallet he extracted a treasury +bill whose denomination caused Henry's eyes to beam with pleasure. + +"At service, Herr Captain," he said, saluting. "I will return and +report later." + +"Very well, Henry," and the chauffeur bowed himself out, but on the other +side of the door he hesitated, fingering Miller's tip with satisfaction. + +"He is liberal, that von Mueller," he muttered. "But it is just as well +not to tell him that there were two sheets of finger prints," and he went +whistling down the corridor. + +Tiptoeing to his door, Miller listened for a second, then, convinced that +the chauffeur had moved away, he turned the key in the lock. Going to his +desk, he picked up the sheet of finger prints and studied them long and +attentively; then glanced down at his right hand. Horror lurked in the +depths of his frank eyes. + +"The mark of Cain," he stammered, and opening the silver frame containing +Kathleen Whitney's photograph, he deftly slipped the paper between the +two pieces of cardboard. + + * * * * * + +It was getting toward dusk when Mrs. Whitney stole softly into Kathleen's +bedroom and stood looking down at her as she lay, eyes closed, white face +pillowed on one shapely arm, her breath hardly stirring the laces on her +gown. Convinced that she was asleep, she moved cautiously away, hoping +not to disturb her, but at that moment Kathleen opened her eyes and +raised herself on her elbow. + +"Don't go, dear," she begged. "How is Dad?" + +"Just about the same." Mrs. Whitney carried a chair to the bedside. "It +is too bad to have roused you." + +"I wasn't asleep--only thinking"--drearily--"I am glad you came in. Does +Dr. McLane hold out any hope?" + +"Yes," and Mrs. Whitney's care-worn face brightened. "Is it not +good news?" + +"The very best," Kathleen smiled through her tears. "You must be worn +out," and she stroked the hand on the bed with loving fingers. "You +should take some rest." + +"I am not tired," protested Mrs. Whitney. "The nurse has just come in +from her afternoon constitutional, and I felt that I could leave Winslow +for a little time. Tell me, dear," sinking her voice. "Can you let me +have a hundred dollars?" + +"I would gladly, mother, but I don't believe I have half that amount +left. You are welcome to that, though; my purse is in my desk." + +"Thank you, dear, I'll get it later," but the troubled shadow did not +lift from Mrs. Whitney's pretty face. "Both Vincent and Henry have asked +me for their wages; I have given Henry part ..." + +"Give him the whole, only get rid of him," burst out Kathleen. "I cannot +bear the man." + +"Why, Kathleen! Has he been disrespectful?" + +"N-no, only--I don't trust him." + +"Please, dear, don't excite yourself." Mrs. Whitney noticed with alarm +the hectic flush that dyed Kathleen's white cheeks. "I will fill his +place. Come to think of it, I did not like his manner this morning when +he asked for his wages, and he went out without leave ..." + +"He selected a curious time to make his request, with Dad so ill." + +"Well, you see, my dear," coloring faintly. "I gathered your father has +not paid him recently." + +"Don't believe that story until you have asked Dad." Kathleen choked back +a sob, remembering that her father, her dear father, might never answer +another question, no matter how trivial. "Don't look so worried, mother; +Dad will get better shortly." + +"I pray so." Mrs. Whitney's eyelashes were wet with tears. "Kathleen, did +your father ever speak to you of a note for twenty thousand dollars?" + +"No, never." + +"It comes due next week." Mrs. Whitney looked hopelessly about the room. + +"Surely the bank will hold over the matter until Dad is in a condition to +attend to his affairs?" + +"I sent word to that effect when answering the note teller's letter." + +"Who is the holder of the note?" + +"Sinclair Spencer." With ashy face Kathleen dropped back on her pillow as +if shot. Failing to observe her expression in the semi-dark room, Mrs. +Whitney continued wearily: "In your father's mail today I found a notice +from his bank stating that he had overdrawn his account heavily. It just +happens that my housekeeping allowance is almost exhausted, or I would +never have mentioned the matter to you, Kathleen." + +"I am glad you did, mother; you must not have this responsibility on your +shoulders, in addition to your anxiety for Dad. I have a little money in +the bank, and will turn it over to you tomorrow." + +"Thank you, dear," stooping and kissing her. "My heart is wrung for you, +Kathleen. It is shameful what you have had to go through!" and her eyes +flashed with indignation. + +"Hush!" placing her hand over Mrs. Whitney's mouth. "My affairs sink into +insignificance alongside of Dad's illness." + +"You are such a blessing, Kathleen," squeezing her hand fondly. + +"Then let us forget there is such a thing as money difficulties, and +turn to...." + +"Me!" exclaimed a voice by the door, and Miss Kiametia Grey advanced +further into the room. "I rapped several times but you did not hear...." + +"Do come and sit with us," suggested Kathleen. + +"I will, if you will turn on the light; I can't bear to talk in the dark. +There, that's better," as Kathleen switched on the reading lamp by her +bed. "Before anything further is said," began the spinster, reddening, "I +must confess that I overheard Kathleen mention money difficulties--I +didn't mean to hear it"--hastily--"but I just want to say that I'll be +your banker until Winslow gets better." + +"You dear!" Kathleen sat up and kissed her warmly and Mrs. Whitney, quite +overcome, embraced her with tears in her eyes. + +"What's a friend for if she can't be of use!" Miss Kiametia's manner was +always most brusque when seeking to cover emotion. "Land sakes! I forgot +to tell you that Randall Foster wishes to see you both." + +"Now!" Kathleen looked down at her negligee attire. "Can't he wait until +tomorrow? Dr. McLane said I could get up then." + +"He is very anxious to interview you this evening, Kathleen. Put on this +pretty dressing-gown," and Miss Kiametia picked it up from the couch. +"You help her into it, Minna, while I go and get Randall," and not +waiting for a reply she whisked out of the room, returning a few minutes +later with Senator Foster. + +"I am here under the doctor's order," explained Kathleen, taking his +proffered hand, after he had greeted Mrs. Whitney. "Won't you sit down?" + +"Thank you," muttered Foster, recovering with an effort from the shock +her appearance occasioned him. She looked wretchedly ill, and the hand he +held for a second in his was hot with fever. "I can stay but a minute, +Miss Kathleen. Do you think that tomorrow you can sign some papers in +reference to Sinclair Spencer's will?" + +"Why should I sign any such papers?" in quick surprise. "What have I to +do with his will?" + +"Hasn't your mother told you?" Mrs. Whitney shook her head, and answered +for Kathleen. + +"Winslow said not to mention the matter to Kathleen yesterday, and today +his illness put everything out of my mind," she explained. + +Kathleen looked from one to the other. "What have I to do with his will?" +she repeated. + +"Sinclair Spencer made you residuary legatee." + +"What!" Kathleen sat up, for the moment bereft of further speech. "I +shan't take any legacy left me by him," she announced, passionately. +"Mother, you hear me, _I won't_." + +"Yes, yes, dear," soothingly, and Senator Foster broke in hastily: + +"We understand how you must feel." + +"Feel!" echoed Kathleen. "Did you for one moment suppose I would accept a +penny from Sinclair Spencer or his estate?" and the scorn in her eyes +hurt Foster as she looked at him. + +"The law requires certain formalities," he said hurriedly. "As executor, +I shall have to talk over his will with you, but later will do." + +"Both now and later, I flatly refuse to consider any such bequest he may +have made me," went on Kathleen, unheeding his words as her excitement +increased, and Miss Kiametia hastened to avert the threatened scene. + +"Where were you yesterday afternoon, Randall?" she asked. + +"In Baltimore." Foster flashed her a grateful glance. "I hope you made +use of my car yesterday, Mrs. Whitney; I told Henry to take it out until +yours was repaired." + +"You were very kind; Winslow went out in it." Mrs. Whitney's glance +strayed to the door; she was anxious to return to her husband's bedside. + +"And with your permission, Randall, I'm going to use your car now to take +me home," chipped in Miss Kiametia. + +"Oh, Kiametia, you must not go," protested Mrs. Whitney. "You are such a +comfort--such a help...." + +"Don't go," added Kathleen. "Your presence makes my enforced idleness +here easier to bear." + +"Thank you, my dears." The spinster looked immensely pleased. "Of course +I'll stay, if you really feel you want me." + +"I am the only one bereft," said Foster wistfully. "I cannot call upon +you tonight, Kiametia." + +"Of course you can," exclaimed Mrs. Whitney, smiling faintly. "We are not +so selfish as to keep Kiametia to ourselves all the time. If you will +excuse me, I must go back to Winslow." + +"Certainly." Foster rose and opened the door for her. "I must not stop +longer. Good night, Miss Kathleen, I hope that you will feel better in +the morning." + +"Thanks; please come here just a moment," and reluctantly Foster +approached the bed. He did not wish to resume discussion about +Spencer's will. "Tell me," Kathleen lowered her voice, "when will the +Grand Jury meet?" + +"Not for ten days or more." + +"That is all, thanks," and Foster moved away. At the door he signaled to +Miss Kiametia to step into the hall with him, and after a quick glance at +Kathleen's averted face, the spinster followed him, softly closing the +door behind her. + +As the click of the latch reached her, Kathleen, seeing that she was +alone, leaned over and put out the light. The darkness was pleasant to +her, and she buried her hot hands under her pillows, the better to feel +the cool linen. Soothed by its contact she struggled to reduce her +chaotic thoughts to order. Sinclair Spencer had left her money--Sinclair +Spencer had left her money--the sentence beat in her brain tirelessly. +The idea was as repugnant to her as his personality had been. In life he +had plagued her, and in death he had involved her in conspiracy and +subjected her to cruel suspicion. + +Her father's illness has aroused her from the torpor following Charles +Miller's departure the night before. She writhed even at the recollection +of her scene with him. Again and again she had been on the point of +sending for the police and denouncing him, but remembrance of the +forty-eight hours of grace which she had granted him stayed her impulse. + +He had killed every spark of affection, she assured herself repeatedly; +and then turned and tossed upon her pillows as vivid recollection painted +each happy hour with him that winter. + +A moan broke from her, and at the sound a stealthy figure advancing from +the sitting-room adjoining, stopped dead. Hearing no further sound, the +intruder moved cautiously forward and bent over Kathleen. + +"Mademoiselle!" + +Kathleen's eyes flew open. "Julie! You have come back!" + +"Hush, mademoiselle! Not so loud," and Julie, dropping on her knees by +the bed, laid a warning finger on Kathleen's lips. Reaching out her +hands, the latter clasped the Frenchwoman in a warm embrance, which was +as warmly returned. + +"You have come back," she repeated in a whisper. "Julie, you met +with no harm?" + +"No, mademoiselle." + +"Where have you been?" + +"No matter now, mademoiselle. I spent last night with Vincent's sister, +Marie Tregot. He smuggled me into the house a little while ago. He told +me of all that you have been through. Oh, that I had stayed; but I acted +for the best, mademoiselle." + +"I am sure of that, Julie"--touched by the feeling in the maid's voice. + +"I was misled"--bitterly--"and by one I thought to be +trusted--Captain Miller." + +"Julie! He did not offer...." + +"No, no, mademoiselle"--Kathleen's taut muscles relaxed and she sank +weakly back in bed. "But I have reason to believe that Captain Miller is +not what he seems. Listen, mademoiselle: I was in M. Foster's touring +car--no matter how I came there now--last night. Henry was driving it. He +knew not that I was in the tonneau. When he stopped the car and got out I +watched him enter a residence in Nineteenth Street. I dared not stay +longer in the car, and hid in the vestibule of the house adjoining the +one he had entered. They are what you call semi-detached, and concealed I +was very close at hand. I had been there but a short time when a man ran +up the steps of the next house and I recognized Captain Miller. He +entered and I waited long, oh, so long, when out came Henry and Captain +Miller ..." + +"Well?" prompted Kathleen, as Julie came to a breathless pause. + +"The Captain entered the car with Henry and drove off. After their +departure I rang the bell of the house where I was hiding and asked +the butler who were their next-door neighbors. He said Baron Frederic +von Fincke." + +"Oh, more evidence against him!" Kathleen drew in her breath sharply. + +"Mademoiselle?" But Kathleen did not explain her remark, and Julie +continued hurriedly; "I at first thought to return here at once, but +remembered Marie Tregot. She gave me house room, and I arranged with +Vincent last night to admit me after dark today." + +"But why not come openly, Julie? No one will harm you." + +"Henry is a spy--a traitor--it did not suit my plans to have him know my +whereabouts." + +"But Julie...." + +"Mademoiselle, have patience--bear with me but a little longer--" The +excited Frenchwoman rose and going to both doors locked them. She +returned and switched on the reading lamp. "Quelle horreur! Mademoiselle, +what have these beasts done to you?" she exclaimed, aghast, inspecting +Kathleen in consternation. "They shall pay for every sign of suffering in +your face." + +"Do not let us discuss me," Kathleen sighed wearily. "Will you tell the +police of your suspicions concerning Henry?" + +"No, mademoiselle." Julie's expression changed. "I like not the police +just now. I have a plan of my own." She checked herself abruptly. "Have +you seen the _Star_?" + +"No, Julie." + +"See, it says here"--pointing to a paragraph in a folded sheet torn from +a newspaper which she drew from under her apron--"'Fire at Roebling's +Plant of Incendiary Origin.' Tell me, mademoiselle, what is Roebling's?" + +"A factory near Trenton, New Jersey, which I believe"--Kathleen spoke +somewhat uncertainly--"manufactures insulated as well as barbed wire." + +"Ah, that is used in trench fighting!" The Frenchwoman took from the +bodice of her black gown a crumpled telegram singed at the edges. "Henry +received this but an hour ago. I watched, oh, so carefully. I saw him +turn pale, and such was his haste to leave the house that he did not wait +to see that the paper burned when he threw it in the grate. Can you +translate it for me, mademoiselle?" + +Smoothing out the telegram, Kathleen, with the maid intently peering +over her shoulder, read the words it contained besides the address, in +puzzled silence: + +Trenton, hurry. + +Hartzmann. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +IN FULL CRY + + +Senator Foster, buttoning his overcoat against the March wind, left +Calumet Place and sought his yellow touring car standing at the curb of +an intersecting street near by. He had dispensed with the services of +his chauffeur for that night. Seating himself behind the steering wheel, +he started the machine down Fourteenth Street, so deep in thought that +he barely missed running over two belated pedestrians scurrying to the +sidewalk, and entirely missed the signals of a street-crossing +policeman, who contented himself with a string of curses as he +recognized the yellow car and bullied the next automobile chauffeur as a +slight vent to his feelings. + +As Foster sped by the War, State, and Navy Building he noted the lights +burning in widely separated office rooms and smiled grimly to himself. +Parking the car near the Whitney residence, he made his way to the front +door. Miss Kiametia Grey answered his impatient ring at the bell. + +"A nice hour for you to keep your appointment, and for me to see +attractive men," she grumbled, leading the way to the library. +"Fortunately, I have a reputation for eccentricity--it saves me a great +deal of annoyance, and covers--er--indiscretions." + +"You--the most discreet of women," protested Foster, seating himself on +the sofa by her. "And I have come tonight to confide in you...." + +"Have you?" dryly. "I doubt it; but go ahead"--generous encouragement +in her tone. + +"How is Whitney?" + +"Pulse stronger, but still unconscious. Minna, poor child, insists that +he knows her, and will not permit herself to believe in what I fear is +the inevitable." + +"Perhaps it is better so," compassionately. "What should we do without +hope in this world? I should not be surprised if Kathleen's condition is +graver than her father's." Meeting her surprised look, he tapped his +forehead significantly. "Brain fever." + +"She is acting queerly," admitted the spinster. "Tonight she locked +herself in her room, won't see even the nurse, and refuses food." + +"I fear the breaking point is near," conceded Foster. "I did not like Dr. +McLane's manner when we met him on leaving Kathleen; he also is worried." + +He paused and asked abruptly, "Has Kathleen seen Charles Miller?" + +"Not today." + +"When was he last here?" + +"Let me see," calculating on her fingers. "He came with you on Wednesday +when I was here--today is Saturday." + +"Did Kathleen see him on Wednesday?" + +"I don't think so." + +"Has he been here since?" + +"I can't say; possibly the servants can tell you." + +"Will you find out from them before I go?" Miss Kiametia nodded +affirmatively, and he asked; "Has Kathleen spoken to you of seeing him +since Spencer's death?" + +"No." + +"Has she ever confided to you whether she cares for him or not?" + +"Not in words," dryly. "But my woman's intuition tells me ..." + +"Yes?" as she paused. + +"That Kathleen worships the ground he walks on." + +"Too bad." Foster sat back, looking troubled. "Too, too bad." + +"What's this? A deathbed repentance? _You_ introduced Miller in +Washington," and the spinster's sharp eyes bored into him. + +Foster moved uncomfortably. "I am sincerely sorry," he mumbled. "I have +been grossly deceived." + +"Humph!" Miss Kiametia moved closer to his side. "Go on--confession is +good for the soul." + +"I can't tell you just now," was the disappointing rejoinder. "Who found +Whitney in his studio this morning?" + +"I did; and a nice shock I had," with a shudder. "The antics in this +house are deranging my nervous system. I can't even sleep." + +"How did you happen to be around at that hour?" + +"Rosa had a bad attack of indigestion after serving dinner, and I +promised to look in and see how she was during the night. Just as I came +out of her room I thought I heard groans and rushed upstairs; found the +studio door open, and by aid of my electric torch, found Winslow lying on +the floor." + +"Did you see anyone else in the room?" + +"No, I only had the light from the torch to guide me, and that is a very +big room, with models and furniture standing around in odd spots." + +"Why didn't you turn on the electric lights?" impatiently. + +"Couldn't find the switch. I did press a button, the only one I +could locate in my haste, and it brought Henry, who switched on the +lights for me." + +"And afterward did you find any trace of papers' having been stolen? +Drawers opened, or anything?" + +"I never looked to see." Foster sat back in bitter disappointment. "All I +thought about was breaking the news of Winslow's condition to Minna and +Kathleen, and getting a doctor. Henry attended to _that_; and I went +downstairs, awoke Minna," she hesitated perceptibly, "Kathleen I found +sitting in her bedroom--dressed." + +"What!" Foster shot her a swift glance. "Asleep?" + +"No. Just sitting there, apparently too dazed to realize my presence, let +alone what I told her. Finally she grasped the news of her father's +illness, and her grief was bitter." + +"Poor girl!" + +Miss Kiametia fingered her gown nervously. "You were in Baltimore when +the newspapers published Spencer's will, and this afternoon Dr. McLane +interrupted us," she began. "Is it really true that Sinclair Spencer left +Kathleen a small fortune?" + +"Yes. On investigation, I find he held valuable stock, as well as +improved real estate of known value." + +"Sinclair Spencer was a bad egg," said Miss Kiametia slowly. "It would +have been like him to boast of his wealth to Kathleen, and by its power +seek to influence her to accept him." + +"A man will do anything to win the woman he loves," said Foster, with a +sidelong look of affection utterly lost on the spinster, who sat deep +in thought. + +"A large legacy," she commented aloud. "It establishes a motive which I +thought lacking before." + +"Kiametia!" Foster shook her elbow roughly. "What are you hinting at?" + +"Hush!" The spinster pointed to the portieres in the doorway leading to +the drawing-room. "Who is lurking there?" + +She spoke in a subdued whisper which reached Foster's ears alone, but as +he rose, startled, the portieres parted and Detective Mitchell walked +over to them. + +"Have you seen Captain Charles Miller?" he asked eagerly, omitting +other greeting. + +"No," they replied in concert. + +"Strange! I saw him enter the front door half an hour ago, using a +latchkey." + +"Charles Miller with a latchkey of this house!" gasped Miss Kiametia. + +"Yes," declared Mitchell, "and I have searched the house and cannot +find him." + +"Perhaps he came to see Kathleen," suggested Foster. + +"Could you go and see if he is with her, Miss Grey?" urged Mitchell. "Her +suite of rooms is the one place where I have not looked." + +"Yes, I--I suppose so," but the spinster held back. + +"Do go," put in Foster gently. "A clandestine meeting is not wise +for either Kathleen or Miller. Think of the construction which may +be put upon it." + +"True." But Miss Kiametia rose reluctantly, and to gain time to collect +her ideas, walked over to the table to gather up her scarf and gold mesh +purse. As she picked up the latter a slight scream escaped her. Instantly +the two men were by her side. + +"See, it's missing!" she cried, raising the gold mesh purse with its +dangling vanity box. + +"What is missing?" demanded Foster. "Don't look so distracted, my +darling." + +"M-m-my g-gold p-p-pencil," she stuttered. + +"Is that all?" and Foster smiled in relief. "I'll buy you another +tomorrow." + +"Indeed you won't," recovering some degree of composure. "I'll find +mine, if I have to search this house from the top to the bottom." + +"But please see Miss Whitney first," broke in Mitchell. + +Miss Kiametia cast him a strange look. "That is the first place I shall +go," she announced, and the two men watched her depart in silence. Foster +was about to speak when the electric lights flickered, grew dim, and then +went slowly out. + +"Trouble in the power house," grumbled Mitchell, searching his pocket for +his electric torch. "I noticed a tie-up in the street cars just before I +came in. Can you find any candles on the mantel, sir?" flashing his torch +in that direction. "Every light in the house must be out." + + * * * * * + +Henry, the chauffeur, paused in indecision on Baron Frederic von Fincke's +doorstep. "You are quite certain the Baron said he would return on the +night train?" + +"Quite," answered the valet. "He is due here at seven o'clock in the +morning. Good night." + +"Good night," echoed Henry, and turning went swiftly down the street. He +stopped for a moment at a news stand, talked with the proprietor, and +then turned his footsteps toward the Whitneys'. As he passed the War, +State, and Navy Building the lighted windows attracted his attention. +With deepening interest he noted the location of the rooms from which the +light shone. Officials of the government were working late. + +Turning, Henry sped down a side street and slipping up an alley, entered +the Whitney house by the rear entrance. He stood in deep thought outside +the kitchen door for a moment before opening it; a flash from his +electric torch showed the dark room was totally empty. Satisfied that +Rosa had gone to her bedroom, he crept softly up the back stairs and +along the front hall of the first bedroom floor. He had almost reached +Miss Kiametia Grey's bedroom door when a slight noise made him pause and +glance up the winding front stairs. He shrank farther back in the shadows +of the dark hall as a faint light appeared, outlining a white face +peering down the staircase. + +Henry caught his breath sharply. How came Julie to be back in the house? +The she-devil! Spying upon him. By God! The reckoning was close at hand, +and he crawled forward a pace, then stopped. Julie had vanished, and with +her the light. Henry debated for a moment. With Julie in the house, his +plans were changed. + +Losing no time, and as noiseless as the shadows about him, Henry made +his way down the back stairs, into the kitchen, down another flight of +steps into the sub-cellar, past the bottom of the elevator shaft, the +motor room, and to the front of the house. With swift, deft fingers he +swung aside a panel of shelves containing rows of preserve jars and +pickles, and stepped inside a small chamber. Carefully he drew to the +panel which, with its strong, well-oiled hinges, made no sound as it +slipped into place. A second more and the small chamber was flooded with +light as Henry found the switch. Never glancing at the batteries lining +the wall, he went direct to the small pine table, and his fingers sought +the telegraph instruments and set them in motion. + +Upstairs in the library the two candles which Foster had been able to +find in the desk drawer burned brightly in their improvised candlesticks. +The flame, however, served but to intensify the darkness of the large +room. The minutes had ticked themselves away in swift succession, but +still Miss Kiametia Grey did not return. Mitchell shut his watch with an +impatient snap, and Foster, his nerves not fully under control, looked up +at the sound. + +"What can be keeping Miss Grey?" he asked. + +"Can't imagine, unless--" The detective never completed the sentence. + +"Come quickly," whispered a voice over his shoulder, and swinging about +with a convulsive start, Mitchell recognized Charles Miller. With common +impulse he and Foster sprang up, but he was the first to reach Miller's +side, and the candlelight shone on burnished steel. "Put up the +handcuffs, Mitchell," directed Miller contemptuously. "The time has not +yet come to use them." + +"I am not so sure of that," retorted Mitchell. "You are ..." + +"We can argue the point later." Miller made for the door. "Both of you +come with me; but for God's sake, make no noise." His manner impressed +them, and after one second's hesitation, the detective replaced the +handcuffs, and in their stead produced a revolver. + +"Go ahead," he said. "But remember, Miller, if you attempt to escape you +will be arrested." + +Without replying Miller led the way through the silent house, his torch +and occasional whispered direction guiding them to the sub-cellar. + +Inside the chamber under the parking of the house, Henry worked with +tireless energy, taking down the coded messages as they flashed from the +skilled fingers of the Government operators in the great War, State, and +Navy Department but a stone's throw away. Suddenly, above the click of +the sounder his abnormal sense of hearing caught a faint noise on the +other side of the closed panel. One movement of his hand and the chamber +was in darkness and the telegraph instrument stilled. Backing into a +corner, Henry waited, his eyes still blinded by the change from light to +darkness; but he heard the opening of the panel, and the soft swish of a +woman's skirts. + +"Julie!" His lips formed the word, but no sound issued from him as he +launched himself forward. For a few seconds he closed with his adversary. +Backward and forward they rocked; then a shot rang out and with a sob a +figure sank limply across the pine table. + +"This way!" shouted Miller, and guided by his voice Mitchell and Foster +dashed after him. They stopped just inside the chamber. Miller's torch +cast its beams across the pine table and its silent burden. A gasping cry +broke from Foster: + +"Mrs. Whitney!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +RETRIBUTIVE JUSTICE + + +"Dead!" The detective bent over Mrs. Whitney. "Shot through the heart." +He turned to his silent companions. "Who fired that revolver?" and his +own covered Miller menacingly. + +Miller, spying the electric lamp, switched it on before answering. Still +silent, he pointed to the telegrapher's outfit which confronted them and +to the tell-tale wires leading to the outer world. + +"The shot was fired," he said, "by the man who tunneled out to the +conduit in which are the cables running to the White House and War, +State, and Navy Building, and tapped them." + +"Where is he?" Mitchell cast a bewildered look about the small chamber. + +"I felt someone brush by me on the stairs in the darkness," volunteered +Foster, recovering somewhat from his stupefaction. "I fear he has got +safely away." + +"No." Miller stepped back from Mrs. Whitney's side. "Chief Connor of +the Secret Service has a cordon of operatives about the house. +Heinrich Strauss, alias Henry Ross, chauffeur, cannot escape. Listen, +isn't that a shot?" + +"I hope to God they've caught him alive!" exclaimed Mitchell, looking +sorrowfully at the dead woman. "He'll swing for this murder, if not for +the death of Sinclair Spencer." + +"I doubt if he was guilty of that crime," said Miller quietly. + +"What!" Mitchell stared incredulously at him. "What leads you to +think that?" + +"Hush!" Miller held up a warning hand as the sound of hurrying footsteps +reached them. A second more and Julie appeared in the sub-cellar, guided +by their light. Her eyes were gleaming with a strange excitement. +Unnoticed by the others, Miller swiftly removed his coat and threw it +over Mrs. Whitney so that it covered her face. + +"He is caught, that Henry!" called Julie, catching sight of Foster +standing in the opening of the secret chamber. "He was getting away, oh, +so softly in the dark, and I tripped him. But yes, and he +fired"--touching a red gash in her cheek. "But the others, they pounced +upon him. La--la! And they are bringing him here. But what--?" trying to +peer past Foster. + +Miller stepped forward. "Crouch down behind those barrels, Julie," he +ordered, and the Frenchwoman, startled by his sudden appearance, obeyed +mechanically. By sheer force of personality Miller took command. "Go back +and wait in the telegraph room," he whispered hurriedly. "You do the +questioning, Mitchell; I'll keep out of sight here." + +Before Mitchell could ask the question burning on his lips, a number of +men made their way down the staircase, Heinrich Strauss in their midst, +handcuffed to the tallest operative. Mitchell saluted as he recognized +the foremost man. + +"This room will interest you, Chief," he said, making way for him, and +Connor took a comprehensive look over the chamber. + +"We've found the leak," he acknowledged. "Clever work that," inspecting +the arrangement of the wires. He drew back at the sight of the covered +figure stretched across the table. "What's this--murder?" + +"Yes," answered Mitchell. "Henry, here," jerking his thumb toward the +erstwhile chauffeur, "killed the woman before we could interfere." + +"Did I?" demanded Heinrich. "How are you going to prove it? I wasn't in +this room ..." + +"You waste time," said a cool voice behind him, and Miller stepped into +the circle. "The game is up, Heinrich." + +"You renegade!" Heinrich was livid with fury. + +"This man is Heinrich Strauss," continued Miller quietly. "One of the +most expert electricians and telegraph operators in Germany. He could be +described as an electrical genius." + +"His work shows that," acknowledged Chief Connor. + +A slight stir in the doorway caused Heinrich to turn, and he smiled +evilly at sight of Kathleen and Miss Kiametia Grey. + +"I'm glad you've come," he said, addressing Kathleen directly, as she +shrank back at sight of him. "That man there," pointing to Miller, "is +Karl von Mueller, captain in the Secret Service." A low moan broke from +Kathleen, and she looked anywhere but at Miller, who had stepped forward +to stand between her and the pine table with its pathetic burden. "Von +Mueller," continued Heinrich, "killed Sinclair Spencer." + +"I deny it," exclaimed Miller. + +"Lies won't help," retorted Heinrich. "Miss Whitney, did you not attempt +to rub off with your handkerchief from Spencer's blood-stained shirt, +Captain von Mueller's finger print?" + +The question from that source was unexpected. Twice Kathleen strove to +answer. She cast an agonized look about the circle of men, but their set, +stern faces gave her no help. + +"Yes," and the monosyllable was little more than a murmur. + +"Ah, take that down, Detective Mitchell," exclaimed Heinrich, +triumphantly. "And von Mueller was in the house that night--do you deny +it?" + +"No." Miller's clear voice did not falter nor did his gaze, and Mitchell, +handcuffs in evidence, looked perplexedly at Chief Connor. The latter was +watching Miller like a lynx, and the Secret Service operatives closed up +in the entranceway--there was no chance to escape, handcuffs seemed +unnecessary. + +The smile that crossed Heinrich's lips was cruel. "We will swing +together, von Mueller," he said. "Turning state's evidence will not save +you, you traitor!" With an effort he controlled his rage, and spoke more +calmly, "Chief Connor, your informer last night stole Whitney's +invention; besides admitting to me that he had it, he left these +tell-tale finger prints"--his hand sought his pocket, but a quick jerk on +the handcuffs stopped him. "Take it out yourself," he snarled to the +operative next him, "inside pocket." His request was quickly complied +with. "There, that tells the story; open it." + +Detective Mitchell bent eagerly forward and gazed at the sheet, then +turned to Miller. + +"Let me see your hands," he directed. Obediently Miller held them palm +uppermost, and the detective and Chief Connor examined the half-moon scar +on the index finger of his right hand with minute care. + +"It tallies," exclaimed Mitchell. A cry from Kathleen broke the silence. +Miller whitened as he heard it. + +"The evidence is conclusive, is it not?" mocked Heinrich. "If that dead +woman could speak"--pointing to the table--"she would tell you how she +saw the crime committed." + +"Suppose we take her mute testimony"--and with a swift movement Miller +removed his coat. + +"Merciful God!" With eyes starting from his head Heinrich recoiled. "Mrs. +Whitney! Why didn't she let me know she was coming down here?" + +"Ah, then she was in the habit of coming?" + +Miller's remark remained unanswered. Heinrich stared and stared again at +Mrs. Whitney, great beads of sweat standing on his forehead. "I thought +it was Julie--that hell-cat!" he muttered. "Why, why didn't she speak, +and let me know who she was?" Then suddenly he collapsed on the one +chair in the chamber and bowed his head. + +At sight of Mrs. Whitney a gasping cry escaped Kathleen. Involuntarily +her eyes strayed about the chamber, her dazed senses slowly grasping the +situation. In the appalling silence one idea became paramount--Henry, the +chauffeur, was a spy, and both his words and behavior implicated Mrs. +Whitney. She, his accomplice? Oh, impossible! She put the thought from +her, but memories, unconsidered trifles, rose to combat Kathleen's +loyalty. Had Mrs. Whitney's smilingly collected manner and dignified +reserve cloaked a cold, calculating, and treacherous nature? + +Kathleen shuddered in horror, and reeled back into Miss Kiametia's arms. +The spinster, shaken out of her forced composure, was crying without +realizing it. She placed a protecting arm about Kathleen and held her in +close embrace. Over the shoulders of the men, Julie, who had crawled from +her hiding place behind the barrels, peered at them in mingled curiosity +and incredulity. + +"Heinrich!" Miller's voice penetrated even the spy's benumbed brain. "Why +is Mrs. Whitney wearing these finger tips?" and he held up the limp right +hand. Each finger was fitted with a wax tip, and on the index finger, +distinct and plain, was the scar shaped like a half moon. + +Stunned, the men and women present looked first at Mrs. Whitney's hand, +then at Miller, and last at Heinrich. No one spoke, and in the heavy +silence the spy's labored breathing was distinct. + +"The game is up," he admitted slowly. "I wish I hadn't done that," +nodding to the silent figure. "She didn't deserve to be shot by me. She +was faithful to Germany ..." + +"Do you mean to insinuate that Minna Whitney was a German spy?" asked +Miss Kiametia, shocked into speech. + +"Well, yes, you might call it that," taunted Heinrich. "I term it +loyalty to the Fatherland, where she was born and brought up. Her mother +was a German." + +"She would never have aided you but for your devilish wiles," broke in +Miller hotly. + +"The fact that she was deeply in debt did influence her," admitted +Heinrich insolently. "Money was her god. I had to pay handsomely before +she would engage my services as chauffeur, and let me make use of this +nice little box." + +"Did you construct this tunnel under the pavement"--pointing to where the +telegraph wires entered the chamber--"and install this outfit by +yourself?" asked Chief Connor, breaking his long silence. + +Heinrich smiled. "You will never learn that from me--and you should +remember that your conduits are laid only seven inches below the surface +of the street; it was hardly a man-sized job." He smiled again, and +continued. "Neither Mrs. Whitney nor I wished to take anyone wholly into +our confidence. She was a perfect assistant; she knew the antecedents of +nearly everyone in society here, and she invariably found out, or got +others to find out, the motives which inspired strangers to come to +Washington. Her husband never interfered with our plans, as he spent most +of his time, both day and night, in his studio. The servants never came +down in this sub-cellar, and with Mrs. Whitney's connivance, I frequently +managed to keep the limousine in the repair shop--and my time was my own. +My surroundings were ideal, even the location of this house favored my +plans ..." + +"Until you grew too ambitious," added Connor softly. + +"Perhaps." Heinrich gnawed at his underlip as he shot a glance full of +venom at Kathleen who stood with head averted, drinking in all that was +said. To hurt her, to lower her pride appealed to Heinrich; his silence +would not benefit the dead woman, while speech would cruelly hurt and +mortify both Kathleen and her father. "My government was anxious to +secure Mr. Whitney's inventions; he would not sell to them, although +Baron--" he stopped and scowled at Miller--"offered him a large sum. +Whitney stuck to it that none but his own country could have the +inventions. Then I suggested to Mrs. Whitney that she get the drawings +and specifications for me; and again I paid her a large sum of money. But +it was as difficult for Mrs. Whitney to get into the studio as for me, +and the danger to herself was not small. Her husband was very suspicious, +and he never permitted her to remain in the room alone. + +"However, because she was not aware I had perfected, as I thought, +another plan to secure the invention, and tempted by the sum of money I +held before her to succeed, she made another attempt last night. She +cried out with disappointment when, after entering, she found only blank +paper, and Whitney heard her." He stared at the horrified faces about +him, and clearing his voice, added, "The shock finished Whitney." + +"You are the devil incarnate!" exclaimed Miss Kiametia, wrathfully. + +"I'm not, but he is." Heinrich raised his manacled hands menacingly +toward Miller. "I never fully trusted you, von Mueller; although I never +found any evidence of your double dealing in your room. But while +outwardly appearing to confide in you, I took the precaution to +incriminate you should my plans miscarry. I observed the peculiar scar on +your finger, and conceived the idea of copying your finger tips in wax. +With Mrs. Whitney's help, I secured an impression of your finger prints +and had it copied in wax. The workman, another German sympathizer, +achieved a wonderful copy of the original, and by my advice Mrs. Whitney +wore the wax finger tips whenever she had work to do." + +"An ingenious plan, very," ejaculated Mitchell, "and one new to me." + +"Mrs. Whitney was wearing them on the night that Sinclair Spencer took it +into his besotted brain to investigate this house," went on Heinrich. +"Mrs. Whitney told me afterwards that she was on the way here to see me, +when she spied Spencer crouching in the elevator, the door of which was +open. She was afraid of being discovered if she went upstairs again, and +to stay was equally dangerous. + +"She had with her a hypodermic syringe which I had given her to use in an +emergency." Kathleen straightened up, and for the first time stared full +at the spy. "The syringe was filled with a solution of cyanide of +potassium," continued Henry. "Adjusting the needle, Mrs. Whitney entered +the elevator, and before Spencer could move, thrust it into his neck. +Spencer gave one convulsive start, attempted to get up, and his heavy +body lurched full against her. She held a knife in her left hand, and as +he half arose from his knees, the force of contact against the worn edges +of the knife gashed his throat. I had asked Mrs. Whitney to bring me one +of the knives which her daughter had for modeling, as I wanted to use +some putty down here. + +"With great presence of mind," continued Heinrich, after a brief pause +which no one cared to break, "Mrs. Whitney ran the elevator to the +attic, and before leaving dipped her wax finger tip in the blood flowing +from Spencer's throat, and made a distinct impression of von Mueller's +finger print on Spencer's white shirt front. Mrs. Whitney left the +elevator at the attic, but Detective Mitchell arrived before she missed +the syringe. On discovering Miss Grey had it, she made various attempts +to get it back. + +"I found the hypodermic syringe," confessed Miss Kiametia. "It was lying +inside the elevator, and I picked it up just after Kathleen was carried +from the elevator. The syringe was marked 'K.W.,' and some impulse made +me keep it, and after the inquest, when I learned cyanide of potassium +had killed Spencer, I hardly let it out of my sight"--Kathleen turned +bewildered, grateful eyes on the spinster--she was not a drug-fiend, but +the most loyal of friends. Her hand tightened on the spinster's, and her +pressure was returned twofold. "Did Kathleen's unnatural mother +deliberately have that syringe marked with her daughter's initials?" + +"Put it down to coincidence," sneered Heinrich. "Or say I had it marked +'K.W.' for--Kaiser Wilhelm." + +"I doubt it; malice alone governed your actions to all in my house." +Kathleen faced the spy proudly. "Miss Kiametia, you do Mrs. Whitney one +injustice. She was not an unnatural mother--as she was no blood kin of +mine, but my father's second wife. She never told anyone that I was not +her child. I don't know why she kept the matter a secret, but I only +learned it accidentally a year ago, and respecting her wishes, never said +anything about it." + +"Mrs. Whitney was secretive by nature," said Heinrich. "And that instinct +made her a willing pawn." + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + +LOVE PARAMOUNT + + +Pausing only long enough to say a parting word to Coroner Penfield and +Chief Connor, Miller hastened up the back stairs and entered the library. +Kathleen and Miss Kiametia Grey, utterly unmindful of the hour, sat on +the sofa, and near them stood Julie, a neat bandage wound about her cheek +and head, while Senator Foster paced agitatedly up and down the room. He +stopped on seeing Miller. + +"Will you kindly inform us who you are?" he demanded peremptorily. "The +Secretary of State showed me a letter tonight from Vincent stating that +you were a German spy ..." + +"Oh, that Vincent!" exclaimed Julie. "I talked too much to him." + +"I came here at once," went on Foster, paying no attention to Julie, +"hoping to elicit some facts about you from Miss Grey and Miss Kathleen. +Tell us at once who you are." + +"Charles Miller Trent," was the calm reply. + +"Then why"--Kathleen sprang to her feet--"why were you masquerading as +Karl von Mueller when I knew you in Germany?" + +"I beg your pardon, you did not know me in Germany." Kathleen +crimsoned at the direct contradiction. "But you did know my cousin, +Karl von Mueller." + +Too dazed for utterance, Kathleen stared at him, studying his face as +never before, and gradually her incredulity gave place to belief. Feature +for feature, coloring matching coloring, the man before her resembled +Karl as she remembered him, but the honesty and steadfast purpose to be +read in Miller's square jaw and fine eyes had been lacking in his cousin. + +"The likeness is extraordinary," she stammered. + +"Yes," agreed Miller. "But I do not think you would have been so +thoroughly certain of my identity if I had not copied my cousin's +mannerisms as well as his handwriting." + +"Then you were brought up together?" asked Foster. + +"In a way, yes. I was never in Germany, but my aunt, Frau von Mueller, +spent many winters at my father's home in Rio Janeiro...." + +"What, are you the son of the coffee importer, Charles M. Trent," +demanded Foster, again interrupting him. + +"Yes. As boys Karl and I were perpetually changing identities and +confusing our playmates, as well as our parents. To that end I was a +willing German scholar, and Karl also became proficient in his +English studies." + +"Were you entirely educated in South America?" asked Miss Kiametia. + +"Oh, no; I spent a great deal of time in Santa Barbara, my mother's home, +and later attended Stanford University. But I have seldom been in the +East, and have few friends here. Last fall I overcame my mother's +objection (she unfortunately sympathized with Germany), and went to +England to enlist in the British army," continued Miller, after a brief +pause. "The night of my arrival in London I was arrested, charged with +being a spy. I had great difficulty, even with my passport and letters to +my bankers, in proving I was not a spy. Finally, I was told that a man +resembling me had been arrested, tried at once, and executed that day." + +"They keep such things quiet over there," commented Foster. + +"To cut a long story short, I was taken to see the dead spy, and found +he was my cousin, Karl von Mueller"--He hesitated and glanced sorrowfully +at Kathleen who sat with head averted. How would she take the news he was +imparting--how deep was her affection for the dead spy? Sighing, he +continued his statement. "The indorsement of my father's influential +friends, whom I had called upon to establish my identity, evidently +carried weight, for on my release it was suggested to me by one high in +authority that, instead of enlisting in the army, I use my cousin's +identity and spy upon the Germans. There was a spice of deviltry in the +scheme and--I accepted. + +"They gave me his papers, clothes, money, and I slipped straight into his +place. None of his companions had heard of his arrest and death. Those +whom I saw I told I had been out of London on a special mission, and they +believed the statement without question. By aid of such papers as my +cousin had kept concealed on his person, I learned something of his +methods, and contact with his companions in London taught me assurance. +No one doubted my identity. Karl had assumed the name of Charles Miller +and it was easy for me to drop my surname. Finally I was sent to a +certain town in the warring countries, and there I received instructions +to come to the United States." + +"Did the Germans accept your identity without question?" asked Foster. + +"Apparently so; but I was not in Germany twenty-four hours, and the Herr +Chief of the Secret Service was familiar with my cousin's appearance and +never doubted he was talking to Karl," answered Miller. "On my arrival +here I communicated at once with Chief Connor, giving him the credentials +I had brought from the London office. By his advice I followed out the +instructions given me by the Herr Chief of the German Secret Service, and +to all intents and purposes was a German spy. But as I grew to know Baron +von Fincke better, I became convinced that another and cleverer man was +responsible for the leak in the carefully guarded offices of this +government. I suspected everyone," Miller smiled suddenly, "even you, +Senator Foster--your peace propaganda fooled me...." + +"Wait," broke in Miss Kiametia. "Randall shan't be blamed for that; +Minna Whitney insinuated that he would not make a peace speech even for +me, so I--I...." + +"Proved her wrong," Foster laughed ruefully. "Mrs. Whitney was a keen +student of human nature; but continue, Miller--er--Trent--I won't +interrupt again." + +"Chief Connor confided to me that messages were being wirelessed to +German cruisers, and that while the station at Sayville, Long Island, was +under surveillance, they were powerless to check the new use of the +wireless." Miller drew his chair closer. "I made a study of wireless +while at college, and the problem here fascinated me. I finally reached +the conclusion ..." + +"Yes, go on," urged Foster. + +"That messages to the German cruisers were being relayed from stations +close together; in other words, that the station in the heart of this +city had a wave length shorter than Arlington's minimum wave length, and +the Arlington Radio Station was unable to hear--you already know that a +transmitting and receiving station can only hear each other when in tune; +that is, the wave length of each must be equal. I therefore established a +receiving station in my room with a short wave length--and the result +justified my reasoning." + +"Good!" ejaculated Foster heartily. + +"But at that, while I had the messages to turn over to Chief Connor, I +was still in the dark as to the location of the sender. You know it is +impossible to determine the direction or distance of a transmitting +station by its waves--a ship at sea cannot be found by wireless unless +its bearings are given. I concluded that the transmitting station must be +in the vicinity of the government buildings, and the next relay within +five miles--a greater wave length could be picked up by Arlington. + +"On Tuesday night I got on the roof of one of the tall government +buildings near here, and examining each roof as I crossed it looking for +wireless antennae, I finally reached this house. I suspected I was being +watched by Baron von Fincke, but managed to confuse him as to the +direction I was taking, and finally clambered down into this attic +through the scuttle. I was certain he was not aware of my identity, and +for the sake of my plans, could not risk discovery. + +"I had never been in your attic before," went on Miller, addressing +Kathleen directly. "I was not even positive this was your house. When +trying to find my way about I chanced upon the elevator shaft; I thought +I was walking into a closet. At that moment I heard a footstep on the +stair." Julie started and bent eagerly forward. "Desiring to get away as +quickly as possible, I pressed the button for the elevator...." + +"But the elevator must have been right there," interrupted Kathleen. +"You could not have opened the outer mahogany door otherwise." + +"So I realized when I had collected my wits," responded Miller. "Opening +both doors, I bolted into the elevator a few minutes before the footsteps +reached the attic." + +"Was Spencer in the elevator then?" questioned Foster. + +"I don't know; the elevator was dark, and I only used my flashlight for a +second to show me the proper button to push for the first floor. It may +be that Spencer was in the elevator, but I did not see him." + +"But I did," volunteered Julie, coming forward. "And I it was you heard +creeping upstairs. I believed that Henry was a spy and feared that he +would steal Mr. Whitney's invention. Oh, monsieur, I was so intent on +guarding the studio I never gave a thought to the sub-cellar. Frequently +I watched all night in a niche I had fashioned near the wine closet, but +on Tuesday, alas! I slept. The soft closing of the elevator door awoke +me, and a person whom, by her walk and height, I judged to be +mademoiselle, moved away from the elevator and went downstairs. Inspired +by curiosity I entered the elevator a moment later, and switched on the +light. I was almost overcome by the sight of M. Spencer, and turned out +the light to shut away the view. I rushed to my room; but I could not +rest. I was in agony for you, mademoiselle; that very afternoon I had +warned you against Monsieur Spencer, and I feared--Oh, forgive me! that +you had killed him because he had injured your father. After a long +interval I crept upstairs to the attic and there tried to puzzle out what +would be best to do for mademoiselle. Fearing the police would make me +tell what I had seen, I ran away." + +"When did you discover Sinclair Spencer in the elevator, Kathleen?" asked +Miss Kiametia. + +"When I went to find Julie on Wednesday morning," began Kathleen. "I was +very absent-minded that morning, and after pressing the button for the +elevator never noticed whether it was long arriving at my floor or +not--the length of time it takes to reach a floor is the only way we have +of judging from where it comes," she explained. "I entered the elevator +intent only on pushing the basement button, which I did with my right +hand, pulling the folding grille-work steel door to with my left hand. My +back was turned to where Sinclair Spencer lay." She shuddered at the +recollection. "Just before the elevator reached the basement I turned +around and saw him. At first I was too stunned to move; then impulsively +turned on the electric light so that I might see better, and discovered +the finger print on his shirt. + +"I don't suppose I would have been so quick to recognize the finger mark +had not Miss Kiametia called my attention to it the day before when +reading Captain M--Trent's palm," she resumed, not looking at Miller. +"Horrified, I took my handkerchief and strove to make the stain +unrecognizable; then suddenly I lost control of myself, and gave vent to +scream after scream, and pressed my finger to the button nearest my hand. +I was taken to the third floor, but the stopping of the elevator did not +bring me self-control, and I think I should have lost my mind if the +elevator had not moved of itself; I realized someone had pushed a floor +button, but when the elevator stopped again and Miss Kiametia opened the +door, I had lost all reason ... I...." She stopped, overcome by the +recollection. + +"My poor darling!" Miss Kiametia kissed her tenderly. + +"How did you get that scar on your finger, Trent?" inquired Foster. + +"While on a hunting trio with my father in the interior of South +America my cousin and I, then fifteen and sixteen respectively, played a +trick on one of our Indian guides. With the assistance of other Indians +he branded my finger, saying by the half-moon we would be identified one +from the other." + +"That explains." Kathleen drew a long breath. "I racked my brain +to remember whether I had seen the scar on your finger in Germany, +and concluded you had perhaps received the injury since--since our +last meeting." + +"Tell me, Kathleen," broke in Miss Kiametia, "how did it happen that +Sinclair Spencer had a flower from your bouquet in his hand?" + +"I don't know, except that I wore the flowers the night before, and one +may have fallen on the floor of the elevator and he picked it up." + +Julie, who had followed Kathleen's every word with the closest attention, +stepped to Miller Trent's side. "Monsieur, can you explain this +telegram?" handing it to him. "Heinrich dropped it here late this +afternoon." + +Miller read the two words, then drew out a pencil. "Divide the word +'Trenton' to 'Trent on' and it reads: 'Trent on, hurry.' Yesterday +afternoon I met a man named Hartzmann; he had known Karl intimately, and +before I left him I realized something had aroused his suspicions. In +New York he communicated with Buenos Ayres, found my whereabouts was +unknown to my family, and jumped to the conclusion that I was +impersonating my cousin." + +"How do you know that?" demanded Foster. + +"The Secret Service operative shadowing Hartzmann notified me of it +today," answered Miller. "Obviously Hartzmann neglected to give any key +to his dispatch to Heinrich, and the latter must have been entirely in +the dark as to the real meaning of the warning. Von Fincke, whom +Hartzmann apparently relied on to enlighten Heinrich, is out of town." + +"Was it the operative's message to you about Hartzman which brought you +here tonight?" asked Foster. + +"No; I came hoping for an opportunity to examine Mr. Whitney's studio, +and used a key to the front door which I had had made without Heinrich's +knowledge. I thought by examining the studio I could find out who really +went there last night; Heinrich brought me a set of the finger prints, +and their startling resemblance to mine convinced me that a plot, +devilish in its ingenuity, was being concocted and an attempt made to +involve me in their machinations. On my way to the studio I saw Heinrich +creeping downstairs and followed him. I never for one moment suspected +Mrs. Whitney." + +"Nor did anyone else," agreed Foster. "Except that Heinrich was shocked +into confession by his having unintentionally killed Mrs. Whitney, +thinking her Julie, we might never have learned the whole truth. +Mitchell, after seeing Vincent's note to the Secretary of State, was +thoroughly convinced you were guilty. By the way, Kiametia, what kept you +so long upstairs when Mitchell asked you to find out if Miller was with +Miss Kathleen?" + +"Searching for that hypodermic needle; I believed Kathleen had +taken it back." + +"Did you see Mrs. Whitney upstairs?" + +"No, I stopped for a moment in Winslow's room, and the nurse told me +Minna had gone to her bedroom to lie down." + +"What possessed her to go to the sub-cellar?" asked Foster. + +"Probably a demon of unrest, or she may have had some message to leave +for Heinrich," suggested Miller. "When he grappled with her in the dark +she undoubtedly thought him a detective and dared not call out for fear +of disclosing her identity. Probably she thought Heinrich out of the +house, and never dreamed of his attacking her." + +"And Heinrich mistook her for me." Julie's eyes glowed. "The hand of +God! But, monsieur, why did you advise that I stay away from +mademoiselle, and take me to that dreadful house?" + +"Because, Julie, you were hysterical, and I feared if interviewed, you +might make some statement in all good faith which would do Miss Kathleen +irreparable injury. I also believed that your absence would serve to +divert suspicion until I had a chance to find the real criminal; I met +you before the inquest, and did not realize that your disappearance could +be used to militate against Miss Kathleen. As for Mrs. Robinson"--he +laughed slightly--"she keeps a private sanitarium, but just now has no +patients. You were perfectly safe there, and I had Connor detail an +operative to see that Heinrich did not torment you." + +"What will become of Baron von Fincke?" + +"Chief Connor and the State Department will handle his case. Connor told +me he found the Baron's next door neighbor--a man named Frank Lutz...." + +"Mercy, his wife's a member of the Sisters in Unity!" ejaculated +Miss Kiametia. + +"Lutz has a complete wireless transmitting station," went on Miller. "He +was stunned by his arrest, and attempted suicide; Connor believes he can +induce him to tell the locations of the other relay stations. Lutz had +the wireless antennae strung along the ceilings in the upper corridors of +his house. He declares they have just perfected a method to overcome +static interference." + +"And what about Heinrich?" asked Julie anxiously. "Will he escape?" + +"No, he will undoubtedly pay the penalty of his crime; Mitchell took him +in charge. Coroner Penfield was here a short time ago," added Miller, +turning to Miss Kiametia. "He assisted us to take Mrs. Whitney to her +bedroom; I left Rosa, the cook, there." + +"Thank you," murmured Kathleen. + +"I think I had better go upstairs and see to everything," and the +spinster rose. + +"Just a minute," Miller hesitated. "I felt that another and more +determined attempt would be made to get Mr. Whitney's invention, +Kathleen, and so suggested to him that he trust me with the drawings and +specifications." + +"Did he?" + +"Yes, and I took them over and deposited them in the care of Chief +Connor." + +"A capital idea," exclaimed Foster. + +"Then father's inventions are quite safe?" asked Kathleen. + +"Yes. One is a camera for taking a map of the country from an airship; +the other, still more marvelous--glass armor." + +"Glass what!" chorused his listeners. + +"Armor. A suit woven from a combination of mica and glass which Mauser +bullets cannot penetrate." + +"Good Lord!" Foster tugged at his hair until it stood upright. + +"We can discuss the inventions at another time," announced the +spinster, recovering from her astonishment. "I'll be upstairs, +Kathleen, if you want me." + +"Wait, I'm coming," but Foster turned on the threshold of the door, his +curiosity mastering him. "There's just one question, Miss Kathleen; if +you knew Karl von Mueller in Germany and, as you thought, met him here +using the name of Charles Miller, why did you not at once conclude he was +a German spy?" + +"Because a year ago a school friend in Germany wrote me that Karl had +disappeared after a duel, and she believed he was living in America under +an assumed name," replied Kathleen, rising hurriedly. "Under those +circumstances I thought it natural that he should have anglicized his +name. Won't you stop--?" + +"No, thanks," hastily. "I must see Kiametia. Good-night," and he +disappeared into the hall. Miss Kiametia was talking to a white-capped +nurse, who continued on her way upstairs on Foster's approach. + +"Winslow has regained consciousness," announced Miss Kiametia, "and is +sleeping naturally at last." + +"I am delighted to hear it." Foster's tired face lighted with pleasure. +"Shall I tell Kathleen?" + +"No, not just yet; good news will keep, and I think she is entitled to +the happiness of being with the man she loves." + +"Do you never crave for that happiness, Kiametia?" and there was a +wistful tenderness in his voice which made the spinster blink +suspiciously. Suddenly she slipped her hand in his. + +"Suppose I say yes, for a change," she whispered, burying her head on his +shoulder, and with a thankful heart Foster held her close as he whispered +tender, soothing words in her ear. + +Neither Kathleen nor Miller cared to break the silence which prevailed +after Foster's departure. Julie had slipped away at the same time. The +pause became embarrassing, and in desperation Miller broke it. + +"Kathleen, can you ever forgive me?" standing tall and straight before +her. "I acted what seems now a contemptible part--but I had to know whom +you were protecting, whom you suspected of killing Spencer--I +thought--forgive me--your father guilty. Until you said last night that +you were shielding me, I had no idea of such a possibility; then I jumped +to the conclusion that you had seen me in this house on Tuesday night, +and imagined you were the person creeping up to the attic. Then, +then--God help me!--came the idea that German gold had corrupted you, +also. I put you to a severe test; but I wanted my doubts that you might +be in German pay absolutely refuted. Even when I threatened, you stood +firm." He drew in his breath sharply. "You will never know how I admired +you and hated myself." + +She answered with a question. "How did you know of my friendship with +your cousin, Karl?" + +"We have always been confidentially intimate. In a moment of remorse he +wrote me about you, telling me of your elopement, and stating that he +took you to a village removed from a railroad for the wedding, and there +found the priest too ill in bed to perform the ceremony; he confessed +that he got drunk, lost his head, and--and--suggested that you dispense +with the marriage ceremony." + +Kathleen crimsoned to the roots of her hair. "Did he tell you that I +indignantly refused, escaped from him, and started out to walk to the +nearest railroad station. There I met John Hargraves, told him of my +elopement, then accompanied him to the hotel in the next town where his +cousin was stopping and spent the night with her, returning next day +under her escort to the school. She explained to the principal that I had +been visiting her, and smoothed over what promised to be a scandal." + +"Yes, Karl wrote me of that also, but he did you the tardy justice of +never mentioning your full name. When I met you at Chevy Chase I +realized suddenly that you had mistaken me for him and--" Miller +hesitated for a brief second--"I followed the game. Kathleen," his +hitherto clear voice faltered, "I followed it to my own undoing. Each +time that you repulsed me, you inspired me--first, with admiration; +then, all unbidden, came love--love, so faithful and unswerving that not +even the toils of treachery and false witness which threatened to +envelope you, could alter it." He hesitated again, his face white and +strained. "Tell me frankly, Kathleen, did you accept me on Tuesday only +because you thought me Karl?" + +"No." Kathleen's face was rosy with color and her eyes shone with a new +radiance. Eagerly Miller clasped her hands and, bending his head, kissed +them. "Whatever schoolgirl affection I cherished for Karl was long since +dead before I met you. To you alone I gave my heart." + +"My love, my love," he murmured softly. "May God aid me to atone to +you for the sorrow of the past!" and looking up into his eyes, as his +arms stole round her, Kathleen read there that the glory of life was +hers at last. + + + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of I Spy, by Natalie Sumner Lincoln + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK I SPY *** + +***** This file should be named 9812.txt or 9812.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/9/8/1/9812/ + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Mary Meehan and PG +Distributed Proofreaders + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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Do not change or edit the +header without written permission. + +Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the +eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file. Included is +important information about your specific rights and restrictions in +how the file may be used. You can also find out about how to make a +donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!***** + + +Title: I Spy + +Author: Natalie Sumner Lincoln + +Release Date: February, 2006 [EBook #9812] +[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule] +[This file was first posted on October 19, 2003] + +Edition: 10 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK I SPY *** + + + + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Mary Meehan +and PG Distributed Proofreaders + + + + + I SPY + + BY NATALIE SUMNER LINCOLN + + 1916 + + + + +_To MRS. SARAH VAIL GOULD my grandmother to whose affection belongs many +joyous days of childhood at "Oaklands" this book is offered as a loving +tribute to her memory._ + + + + +CONTENTS + + I. AT VICTORIA STATION + + II. OUT OF THE VOID + + III. POWERS THAT PREY + + IV. "SHOULD AULD ACQUAINTANCE BE FORGOT?" + + V. AN EVENTFUL EVENING + + VI. AT THE CAPITOL + + VII. PHANTOM WIRES + + VIII. KAISER BLUMEN + + IX. THE SPIDER AND THE FLY + + X. SISTERS IN UNITY + + XI. A MAN IN A HURRY + + XII. A SINISTER DISCOVERY + + XIII. HIDE AND SEEK + + XIV. A QUESTION OF LOYALTY + + XV. THE GAME, "I SPY" + + XVI. AT THE MORGUE + + XVII. CIRCUMSTANTIAL EVIDENCE + + XVIII. A PROPOSAL + + XIX. THE YELLOW STREAK + + XX. THE AWAKENING + + XXI. THE FINGER PRINT + + XXII. "TRENTON HURRY" + + XXIII. IN FULL CRY + + XXIV. RETRIBUTIVE JUSTICE + + XXV. LOVE PARAMOUNT + + + + +LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS + + +"He saw Kathleen quickly palm his place card" + +"As Henry pushed back the door, she collapsed into her father's arms" + +"'A flash, the rifle's recoil--and Mr. Whitney still standing just +where he was'" + +"Whitney paused to snatch up a magnifying glass and by its aid examined +the finger prints" + + + + +CHAPTER I + +AT VICTORIA STATION + + +The allied forces, English and French, had been bent backward day by day, +until it seemed as if Paris was fairly within the Germans' grasp. Bent +indeed, but never broken, and with the turning of the tide the Allied +line had rushed forward, and France breathed again. + +Two men, seated in a room of the United Service Club in London one gloomy +afternoon in November, 1914, talked over the situation in tones too low +to reach other ears. The older man, Sir Percival Hargraves, had been +bemoaning the fact that England seemed honeycombed by the German Secret +Service, and his nephew, John Hargraves, an officer in uniform, was +attempting to reassure him. It was a farewell meeting, for the young +officer was returning to the front. + +"Much good will all this espionage do the Germans," said the young man. +"We are easily holding our own, and with the spring will probably come +our opportunity." He clicked his teeth together. "What price then all +these suspected plots and futile intrigues?" + +"Don't be so damned cocksure," rapped out his uncle, his exasperation +showing in heightened color and snapping eyes. "It's that same +cocksureness which has almost brought the British Empire to the very +brink of dissolution." + +His nephew smiled tolerantly, and shifted his thickset figure to a more +comfortable position. + +"Now, now," he cautioned. "Remember what old Sawbones told you yesterday +about not exciting yourself. Said you weren't to read or talk about this +bally old war. Leave the worrying to Kitchener; he'll see we chaps do +our part." + +"If everything were left to Kitchener!" Sir Percival thumped the arm of +his chair. "Some of us would sleep easier in our beds. And I know you +chaps at the front will do your part. Would to God I could be with you!" +glancing at his shrunken and useless left leg. "If I could only take a +pot at the beggars!" + +"According to your belief the firing line will shortly be on English +soil," chaffed his nephew, avoiding looking at his companion. He knew the +tragic circumstances surrounding his uncle's maimed condition, and wished +to avoid anything touching upon sentiment. + +"If the plans to undermine England's home government are perfected and +carried out, every man, woman and child will have to band together to +repel invasion." Sir Percival lowered his voice. "If there are any +able-bodied men left here." + +"Don't be so pessimistic. Kitchener has built up a great army, and is +only waiting the proper moment to launch it in the field." + +"The best of England has volunteered," agreed Sir Percival, "but what +about the slackers? What about the coal strikes--the trouble in our +munition factories? All are chargeable to the Kaiser's war machine which +overlooks nothing in its complete preparedness. Preparedness--England +doesn't yet know the meaning of the word." + +"It's time for me to leave," said the young officer, consulting his +watch. "Take my word for it, Uncle, we're not going to the demnition +bowwows--count on England's bulldog grit. God help Germany when the +Allies get into that country!" + +"When--ah, when?" echoed Sir Percival. "I hope that I live to see the +day. Tell me, boy," his voice softening, "how is it with you and Molly?" + +His nephew reddened under his tan. "Molly doesn't care for a chap like +me," he muttered. + +"Did she tell you so?" + +"Well, no. You see, Uncle, it--eh--doesn't seem the thing to suggest +that a charming girl like Molly tie herself to a fellow who may get his +at any time." + +"Piffle!" Sir Percival's shaggy eyebrows met in a frown. "Sentimental +nonsense! You and Molly were great chums a year ago. You told me yourself +that you hoped to marry her; I even spoke to her mother about the +suitability of the match." + +"You had no right to," blazed his nephew. "It was damned impertinent +interference." + +"You have not always thought so," retorted Sir Percival bitterly. "What +had that most impertinent American girl you met in Germany to do with +your change of front toward Molly?" + +"I must insist that you speak more respectfully of Kathleen." John +Hargraves' expression altered. "If you must know, I asked Kathleen to +marry me and--she refused." + +"I said she was impertinent. All Americans are; they don't know any +better," fumed his uncle. "Forget her, John; think of Molly. I tell you +the child loves you. Don't wreck her happiness for the sake of a +fleeting fancy." + +"Fleeting fancy?" John Hargraves shook his head sorrowfully. "When +Kathleen refused me I was hard hit; so hit I can't marry any other girl. +Don't let's talk of it." He smiled wistfully as he held out his hand. +"Time's up, Uncle; the train leaves in an hour, and I must get my kit. +Good-by, sir. Wish me luck." And before the older man could stop him he +was retreating down the hall. + +Sir Percival stared vacantly about the room. "The last of his race," he +muttered. "God help England! The toll is heavy." + +In spite of his haste John Hargraves was late in reaching Victoria +Station, and had barely time to take his place before the train pulled +slowly out. As he looked down the long trainshed, he encountered the +fixed stare of a tall, well-groomed man standing near one of the pillars. +Hargraves looked, and looked again; then his hand flew up, and leaning +far out of his compartment he shouted to a porter. But his message was +lost in the roar of the more rapidly moving train, and the porter, +shaking a bewildered head, turned back. + +The crowd of women and children and a few men, which had gathered to +witness the troop train's departure, was silently dispersing when an +obsequious porter approached the tall stranger whose appearance had so +excited John Hargraves. + +"Ye keb's out 'ere, sir," he said. "This way, sir," and as the stranger +made no move to follow him, he leaned forward and lifted the latter's top +coat from his arm. "Let me carry this 'ere for you, gov'ner," then in a +whisper that none could overhear, he said in German: "For your life, +follow me." + +"Go on," directed the stranger in English, pausing to adjust his cravat, +and made his leisurely way after the hurrying porter. The latter stopped +finally by the side of a somewhat battered-looking limousine. + +"'Ere ye are, sir," announced the porter, not waiting for the +chauffeur to pull open the door. "I most amissed ye," he rattled on. +"Kotched the keb, sir, an' tucked yer boxes inside, then I looked for +ye at the bookin' office, 'cording to directions. Let me tuck this +'ere laprobe over ye." + +As the stranger stepped into the limousine and seated himself the porter +clambered in after him. + +"They're on," he whispered, his freckles showing plainly against his +white face. "The chauffeur is one of us, he'll take you straight to our +landing. This packet's for you. Good luck!" And pocketing the sovereign +offered, the porter, voicing loud thanks, backed from the limousine and +slammed the door shut. + +The outskirts of London were reached before the man in the limousine +opened the slip of paper thrust into his hand by the porter. It was +wrapped about a small electric torch and a book of cigarette papers. +Slowly he read the German script in the note. + +Be at the rendezvous by Thursday. Hans, the chauffeur, has full +directions. Do not miss the seventeenth. + +After rereading the contents of the note the man tore it into tiny bits +and, not content with that, stuffed them among the tobacco in his pipe. +Striking a match he lighted his pipe and planting his feet on the bag he +gazed long and earnestly at his initials stamped on the much labeled +buckskin. The slowing up of the limousine aroused him from his +meditations, and he glanced out of the window to see which way they were +headed. London, the metropolis of the civilized world, lay behind him. +Catching his chauffeur's backward glance, he signaled him to continue +onward as, removing his pipe, he muttered: + +"_Gott strafe England_!" + + + + +CHAPTER II + +OUT OF THE VOID + + +Slowly, the sullen roar of artillery, the rattle of Maxims and rifles +sank fitfully away. A tall raw-boned major of artillery stretched his +cramped limbs in the observation station, paused to look with callous +eyes over the devastated fields before him, then sought the trench. +Earlier in the day the Allies had been shelled out of an advance position +by the enemy and had fallen back on the entrenchments. + +"Devilish hot stuff, shrapnel," commented a brother officer as Major +Seymour stopped at his side. + +The Major nodded absently, and without further reply advanced a few paces +to meet an ammunition corporal who was obviously seeking him. "Well?" he +demanded, as the non-commissioned officer saluted. + +"Only twenty rounds left, Major." The Corporal lowered his voice. +"Captain Hargraves sent word to rush reinforcements here as soon as it is +dark, sir." + +Major Seymour glanced with unconcealed impatience at his wrist watch. +God! Would night never come! + +"Can't we get our wounded to the base hospital, Major?" asked a +younger officer. He had only joined the unit thirty-six hours before +and while he had faced the baptism of fire gallantly, the ghastly +carnage about him shook his nerve. He was not fed up with horrors as +were his brother officers. + +"The wounded would stand small chance of reaching safety if the German +gunners sighted them. They must wait for darkness," replied Seymour. +"Here, take a pull at my flask. Got potted yourself, didn't you?" +noticing a thin stream of blood trickling down his companion's sleeve. + +"Only a flesh wound--of no moment," protested the young man, flushing at +the thought that his commanding officer might have misunderstood his +question. "I'm afraid Captain Hargraves is in a bad way." + +"Hargraves!" The Major spun on his heel. "Where is he?" + +"This way, sir," and the Lieutenant led him past groups of men and +officers. It was an appalling scene of desolation. The approach of night +had brought a slight drizzling rain, and the ground, pitted with shell +holes, was slimy with wet, greasy mud. Nearly all the trees in the +vicinity were blasted as if by lightning, and along the right hand side +of the road was a line of A.S.S. carts and limbers blown to pieces. One +horse, completely disemboweled, lay on his back, the inside arch of his +ribs plainly showing. His leader was a mass of entrails lying about, and +on the other side lay four or five more, one with a foreleg blown clear +off at the shoulder, one minus a head. A half-dozen motor cycles and over +a dozen push bikes lay in the mud with some unrecognizable shapes that +had been riding them. Between the advance trenches, in No Man's Land, the +ground was thickly strewn with corpses of Scotties killed in the charge. + +"The Huns had us cold as to range," volunteered the Lieutenant, loss +of blood and reaction from excitement loosening his tongue. "They +outed five guns complete with detachments by direct hits. Here we are, +sir," and he paused near a demolished gun emplacement. The ground +about was a shambles. + +Major Seymour stepped up to one of the figures lying upon the ground, +a mud-incrusted coat thrown over his legs. Several privates who had +been rendering what assistance they could, moved aside on the +approach of their superior officers. Hargraves opened his eyes as +Seymour knelt by him. + +"My number's up," he whispered, and the game smile which twisted his +white lips was pitiful. + +"Nonsense." Seymour's gruff tone concealed emotion. Hargraves' face +betrayed death's indelible sign. "You'll pull through, once you're back +at the hospital." + +Hargraves shook his head; he realized the futility of argument. + +"Have you pencil and paper?" he asked. + +"Yes." Seymour drew out his despatch book and removed a page. "What is +it, John?" But some minutes passed before his question received an +answer, and Hargraves' voice was noticeably weaker, as he dictated: + +DEAR KATHLEEN: + +I saw Karl in London at Victoria Station. I swear it was he ... warn +Uncle ... Kathleen ... Kathleen ... + +There was a long silence; then Seymour laid aside the unneeded brandy +flask and slowly rose to his feet. He mechanically folded the scrap of +paper, but before slipping it inside his pocket, the blank side arrested +his attention. + +"Heavens! John never gave me her address or last name. Who is Kathleen?" +he exclaimed. + +More shaken than he was willing to confess even to himself, by the loss +of his pal, he stared bitterly across the battlefield toward the enemy's +lines. How cheerily Hargraves had greeted him that morning on his return +from a week's furlough in England! How glad he had been to rejoin the +unit and be once again with his comrades on the firing line! A gallant +spirit had passed to the Great Beyond. + +Back in his observation station Major Seymour an hour later viewed the +gathering darkness with satisfaction. Two hours more and it would be +difficult to see a hand before one's face. Undoubtedly the sorely needed +ammunition and reserves would reach the trenches in time, and the wounded +could be safely transferred to the base hospital. The Allies' line had +held, and in spite of their desperate assaults the Germans had been +unable to find a vulnerable spot. + +Seymour passed his hand over his eyes. Against the darkness his fevered +imagination pictured advancing "gray phantoms." "They come like demons +from the hell they have created," he muttered. "I hope to God they +don't use 'starlights' over our trenches tonight. Flesh and blood can +stand no more." + +The darkness grew denser and more dense. In the long battle front of the +Allies no sentinel saw a powerful Aviatik biplane glide over the trenches +and fly onward toward its goal. Several times the airman inspected his +phosphorescent compass and map, each time thereafter altering his course. +Finally, making a sign to his observer, he planed to a lower level and, +satisfied that he had reached the proper distance, a bomb was released. + +Down through the black void the infernal machine sped. A sickening +pause--then a deafening detonation, followed by another and another, cut +the stillness, and the earth beneath was aflame with light as the high +explosives and shells stored in the concealed ammunition depot were set +off. Nothing escaped destruction; flesh and blood, mortar and brick went +skyward together, and a great gash in the earth was all that was left to +tell the story of the enemy's successful raid. + +From a safe height the German airman and his observer watched their +handiwork. Suddenly the latter caught sight of an aeroplane winging its +way toward them. + +"Bauerschreck!" he shouted, and the airman followed his pointed finger. +Instantly under his skillful manipulation their biplane climbed into the +air in long graceful spirals until they were six thousand feet above +ground. But as fast as they went, their heavier Aviatik was no match in +speed for the swift French aeroplane, and the bullets from the latter's +machine gun were soon uncomfortably near. + +The German airman's face was set in grim lines as he maneuvered his +biplane close to his pursuer and, dodging and twisting in sharp dips and +curves, spoiled the aim of the Frenchman at the machine gun, while his +own revolver and that of his observer kept up a continuous fusillade. + +For twenty minutes the unequal fight continued. It could not last much +longer. Despair pulled at the German's heartstrings as he saw his +observer topple for a moment in his seat, then pitch forward into space. +The biplane tipped dangerously, righted itself and sped like a homing +pigeon in the direction of the German lines. There was nothing left but +to fly for it. The German dared not look behind; only by the mercy of God +were the Frenchman's shots going wild. It could not last; he must get the +range. Surely, surely they were past the last of the Allies' trenches? + +The German turned and fired his revolver desperately at his pursuers. +Glory to God! one of his bullets punctured the latter's gasoline tank. It +must be so--the French aeroplane was apparently making a forced landing. +The shout on the German's lips was checked by a stinging sensation in his +right side. The Frenchman had his range at last. + +Almost simultaneously his machine turned completely over. With groping, +desperate fingers the German strove to gain control over the levels and +right himself. In vain--and as he started in the downward rush, the +hurrying wind carried the frenzied whisper: + +"The cross, dear God, the cross!" + + + + +CHAPTER III + +POWERS THAT PREY + + +Not far as the crow flies from the scene of the German airman's +catastrophe, but with its presence hidden from general knowledge, was +the Grosses Hauptquartier, the pulsing heart and brain of the Imperial +fighting forces. Vigilant sentries patrolled the park leading from the +chateau commandeered for the use of the War Lord and his entourage, to +the quarters of the Great General Staff. In a secluded room of the +latter building a dozen men sat in conference about a table littered +with papers; they had been there since early evening, but no man +permitted his glance to stray to the dial of a library clock whose hands +were gradually approaching two o'clock. Truly, the chiefs of the +divisions were tireless toilers. + +The Herr Chief of the Great General Staff was emphasizing his remarks +with vigor unusual even for him, when the telephone, no respecter of +persons, sent out its tinkling call. Hitching his chair closer to the +table, the Herr Chief of the Aviation Corps removed the receiver from +the instrument. A courteous silence prevailed as he took the message. +Replacing the receiver, he turned and confronted his confreres. + +"An outpost reports," he began formally, "that Captain von Eltz in his +Aviatik biplane was pursued and wrecked by a French airman who was +obliged to make a forced landing inside our lines. The French airmen were +shot in their attempt to escape. Owing to the Aviatik biplane catching in +the branches of a tree and thereby breaking his fall Captain von Eltz was +rescued alive, although desperately wounded. The observer who accompanied +him is dead. On regaining consciousness Captain von Eltz reported that +his mission was successful, the new ammunition depot having been +completely destroyed by his bomb." + +A low hum of approval greeted his words. "Well done, gallant von Eltz!" +exclaimed one of the hearers. "He deserves the Iron Cross." + +"He will receive it," declared another officer enthusiastically. + +"The information as to the location of this new ammunition depot, which +von Eltz has just destroyed, came from the man of whom I have been +telling you tonight," broke in the Herr Chief of the Secret Service. "He +has been our eyes and ears in England. Gentlemen, is it your wish that he +be intrusted with the delicate mission of which we have just been +speaking?" + +The eyes of the Herr Chief of the Great General Staff swept his +companions. "Is it that I speak for all?" A quick affirmative answered +him. "Then, we leave the matter entirely in your hands." The Herr Chief +of the Secret Service bowed. "You know your agents; the selection is left +to you, but see there is no unnecessary delay." + +"There will be no delay," responded the Herr Chief of the Secret Service. +"My agent is not far from here. With your permission, I take my leave," +and saluting he hastened from the room. + +The sun was halfway in the heavens when a limousine drew up before a +wayside inn near a semi-demolished city. Before the orderly sitting by +the chauffeur could swing himself to the ground, a tall man had stepped +to the side of the car and opened the door. For a second the Herr Chief +of the Secret Service and the stranger contemplated each other without +speaking, then the former motioned to the vacant seat by his side. + +"We can talk as we ride," he announced brusquely. "Your luggage--" + +"Is here," thrusting a much labeled suitcase inside the limousine and +jumping in after it. + +At a low-toned word from the Herr Chief of the Secret Service the orderly +saluted and quickly resumed his seat by the chauffeur. There was a short +silence inside the limousine as the powerful car continued up the road. +They were stopped at the first railroad crossing by a trainload of +wounded soldiers. + +"Your pardon," and before the Herr Chief of the Secret Service could stop +him, the stranger pulled down the sash curtains of all the windows. "You +are well known; being recognized is the penalty of greatness. It is to my +interest to escape such a distinction." + +"I approve your caution, Herr Captain," observed the older man. "Will you +smoke?" producing his cigarette case, and as the other smilingly helped +himself and accepted a lighted match, he surveyed him critically. Paying +no attention to his chief's scrutiny, the Secret Service agent +contemplated the luxurious appointments of the limousine with +satisfaction and puffed contentedly at his cigarette. His air of breeding +was unmistakable, but the devil-may-care sparkle in his gray-blue eyes +redeemed an otherwise expressionless face from being considered heavy. +The spirits of the Herr Chief of the Secret Service rose. His +recollection and judgment was still good; his agent, by men and women, +would be deemed extremely handsome. + +"The new ammunition depot was destroyed last night by our airmen," he +said, with some abruptness. "Your information was reliable." + +"Pardon, is not my information always reliable?" interpolated the Secret +Service agent. + +"So it has proved," acknowledged his chief cordially, but a mark was +mentally registered against the Herr Captain. German bureaucracy does not +tolerate presumption from a subordinate. "And owing to your excellent +record, you have been selected for a most delicate mission." + +"Under the same conditions?" + +"The Imperial Government cannot be questioned," retorted his chief, his +anger rising. + +"I am different from other operatives." A puff of cigarette smoke +wreathed upward from the speaker's lips. "A free-lance." + +"And you have been given a free hand. We have not inquired into your +methods of procuring information, being content with the result." + +"And does not the result justify not only your confidence but promotion?" + +The Herr Chief of the Secret Service considered before replying; then he +answered with a question. + +"Have you been to Ireland?" + +The Secret Service agent smiled grimly as he took from his pocket a book +of cigarette papers. Counting them over, he selected the seventeenth +paper, and passed it to his companion, who examined the small blank sheet +with interest. "Just a moment," and the young man again slipped his hand +into a vest pocket, this time bringing out a nickel flashlight. Pressing +his thumb on the switch he held the glass bulb against the rice paper. In +a few minutes a faint tracing appeared on the blank page, which grew +brighter as the rays of light generated more heat. + +"Hold it a moment," said the Herr Chief of the Secret Service. "Keep it +over the bulb," and taking out his notebook he made several entries, then +closed it with a snap. + +"Finished?" As he asked the question, the Secret Service agent replaced +his pocket flashlight, drew out his tobacco pouch, poured a little in the +rice paper, and proceeded to roll the cigarette with practiced fingers. + +"About Sheerness?" questioned the Herr Chief of the Secret Service. + +"All is arranged." + +"Good." The Herr Chief of the Secret Service permitted himself to settle +back more comfortably on the roomy seat so that he faced his companion. +In the closed and semi-darkened limousine there was no danger of their +conversation being overheard. + +"I reserved for myself, Herr Captain," said the Herr Chief slowly, "the +pleasure of informing you that your valuable services to the Kaiser and +the Fatherland"--the Secret Service agent raised his hat--"are +recognized. The Cross may yet be yours." + +"How can I express my gratitude?" stammered the Secret Service agent. + +"By not jumping to hasty conclusions," smiled his chief. "Never again +question your orders." + +"Be just," protested the Secret Service agent warmly. "I have risked my +life daily for the Kaiser and the Fatherland in a hostile country. There +have been hours which I do not care to remember." The speaker's tone grew +husky. "Some day--a short shift; and I must make provision for another." + +"I understood you were not married?" + +There was a barely perceptible pause. "Spies do not marry, sir." + +"And if a Secret Service agent has a healthy regard for his own safety, +he is careful of serious entanglements," cautioned his chief. "However, +judging by your past work, I believe you are quite able to take care of +yourself. Thanks to the warnings and information of your organization we +have been able to meet some of the Allies' contemplated concerted +attacks, and your information as to the sailing of transports and the +movements of ammunition trains has been of inestimable service." + +"Do you still wish me to keep up this particular work?" + +"No." The Herr Chief of the Secret Service leaned forward in his +earnestness. "This war has demonstrated again and again that victory goes +with the heaviest artillery." + +"True! Antwerp, one of the strongest fortified cities on the Continent, +crumpled up before our siege guns," broke in his companion. + +The older man paid no attention to the interruption, but continued +gravely: "Hand to hand conflict and cavalry charges are a thing of the +past. We shell out the enemies' trenches from batteries six to twelve +miles away. All this you already know; I repeat it now to explain what I +am about to say. We are in possession of the mining district of France, +they are getting hard pushed for ammunition; England's supply is not +inexhaustible; Russia cannot half arm her fighting forces. They one and +all are appealing to the manufacturing capitalists of the United States +to furnish them with arms and ammunition." + +"And with success," dryly. + +The Herr Chief of the Secret Police frowned. "It must be stopped. You are +to go to America--" + +"I?" + +"Yes, at once. You have a genius for organization; your work in England +proved that. Let us know what merchant vessels and passenger steamers are +carrying munitions of war. Be sure, doubly sure, that your information is +correct, for we shall act upon it. Our Government stands ready to take +most drastic measures to stop such traffic." + +"I see." The Secret Service agent stroked his clean-shaven chin in +meditative silence. "In England I went hand in hand with death; in the +United States I am likely to outlive my usefulness." + +"Perhaps," with dry significance. "But recollect our Government is ready +to adopt _any_ expedient to stop the exporting of arms and ammunition to +our enemies." + +"As for instance--?" + +"Leave our methods to us; you have your work. You will make your +headquarters at Washington City. There you will be able to place your +hand on the pulse of the nation, and there you will find--idle women." + +"Have we not already representatives at the United States capital?" + +The Herr Chief of the Secret Service eyed him keenly. "Our embassy is +concerned only with the diplomatic world. You are to send us word whether +the United States Government arsenals are working under a full complement +of men; of the orders placed by the Navy Department for submarines, and +the activities obtaining in private munition plants. Be certain and study +the undercurrent of sentiment for or against us. Report as you have +heretofore." + +"How am I to get in touch with the private shipyards and munition +plants?" + +"I will give you letters to residents loyal to their Fatherland. A number +of the owners of powder companies and munition plants usually winter in +Washington. I am also told that Mexican juntas still make Washington +their headquarters." The eyes of the Secret Service agent were boring +into him, but the older man's countenance remained a mask. "You must bear +in mind that if the American capitalists persist in selling assistance to +our enemies the attention of the United States must be diverted to other +issues...." + +"Such a plan could only be carried out by creating a necessity of +home consumption for war munitions," supplemented the Secret Service +agent softly. + +Without replying the Herr Chief of the Secret Service pulled forward a +small despatch-box from a cleverly concealed pocket in the upholstery of +the limousine. + +"We are motoring to your nearest destination," he said soberly, +opening the box. "Here are your letters of credit, your passport, and +introductions to our friends across the water," handing him a leather +wallet. "They will see that you are properly introduced to Washington +hostesses. Go out in society; I am told it is most delightful at the +Capital. Make friends with influential public men and prominent +Washingtonians. Above all," with emphasis, "cultivate the gentler +sex; remember, idle women make excellent pawns, my dear Herr Captain +von Mueller." + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +"SHOULD AULD ACQUAINTANCE BE FORGOT?" + + +Mrs. Winslow Whitney, gathering her wraps together, stepped from the +limousine. + +"I shall not need you again tonight, Henry," she said, as the chauffeur +sprang to the sidewalk to assist her. + +"Very good, ma'am," and touching his cap respectfully, he took from the +limousine the heavy fur laprobe and hastened to ring the doorbell for +his mistress. + +Halfway to her front door Mrs. Whitney paused to scan the outward +appearance of her home. The large, Colonial, brick double house, with +lights partly showing behind handsomely curtained windows, looked the +embodiment of comfort, but Mrs. Whitney heaved a sharp sigh of +discontent. The surroundings were not pleasing to her. Again and again +she had pleaded with her husband to give up the old house and move into a +more fashionable neighborhood. But with the tenacity which easy-going men +sometimes exhibit, Winslow Whitney clung to the home of his ancestors. It +had descended from father to son for generations, and finally to him, the +last of the direct male line. Although business had encroached and noisy +electric cars passed his door, and even government buildings dwarfed the +impressive size of the old mansion, he declined to give up his home, +stating that he had been born there and there he would die. + +"Very well, you and Providence can settle the point between you, Dad," +answered Kathleen, his only child, who had been brought in to use her +persuasive powers upon her irate parent. "But as long as mother and I +have to inhabit this old shell you must, simply must, put new works +inside her." + +And Whitney, with the generosity which marked his every action to those +he loved, rehabilitated and remodeled the mansion until it finally +rivaled in up-to-date completeness the more ornate homes of the newly +rich in the fashionable Northwest. + +"Has Miss Kathleen returned?" asked Mrs. Whitney, handing her wraps to +the breathless Vincent, who had hurried to answer the chauffeur's +imperious ring. + +"No, ma'am." + +"When she does return, tell her that I wish to see her." + +"Yes, ma'am." + +"Is Mr. Whitney in his studio?" + +"Yes, ma'am. Shall I send Julie to you?" + +"Tell her to go to my room and wait for me." As she spoke Mrs. Whitney +crossed the broad hall and, passing the Colonial staircase, entered the +elevator. The automatic car carried her to the first bedroom floor but, +changing her mind, she did not open the door; instead she pressed the +electric button marked "Attic." Her slight feeling of irritation aroused +by not being met downstairs by any member of her family was increased by +stepping from the elevator into a dark hall. + +"Winslow!" she called. Meeting with no response she walked over to the +opposite wall and by the aid of the light in the elevator found the +electric switch and turned it on. Not pausing to look about her, she went +to the back of the large high-roofed attic and tried the handle of a +closed door. Finding that it would not open to her touch, she rapped +sharply on the panel. She waited several seconds before she heard a chair +pushed back and the sound of advancing footsteps. The inside bolt was +shot back with distinct force. + +"Well, what is it?" demanded Whitney, jerking open the door. "Oh, my +dear," his tone changing at sight of his wife, "I had no idea you were +returning so soon." + +"Do you call half-past six o'clock soon?" asked Mrs. Whitney following +him into the room. "Winslow, Winslow, I warn you not to become too +absorbed in your work." + +Whitney laughed somewhat ruefully. "Does the kettle call the pot black? +What do you do but give up your time to the Sisters in Unity? I'm a +secondary consideration. There, there," noting his wife's expression. +"Don't let us dispute over trifles. I'm making headway, Minna--headway." + +"I congratulate you, dear." Mrs. Whitney laid a caressing hand on his +touseled gray hair. "I never doubted that you would. But, Winslow, such +complete absorption in your work is not healthy. The doctor has warned +you not to shut yourself up in this room for hours, and particularly that +you are not to lock your door on the inside. Remember your recent attacks +of vertigo." + +"McLane's an ass. The vertigo sprang from indigestion; hereafter, I'll be +more careful what I eat," he protested. "There's nothing the matter with +this room; it's well ventilated and heated. And I will lock my door--I +won't be interrupted by any jackass servant wanting to feed me +pap"--pointing scornfully toward the hall where a tray laden with a +teapot and tempting dishes stood on a table near the door. "Do you not +yet realize, Minna, that this is my life work?" With a sweeping gesture +he indicated the models, brass, wood, and wax, which filled every cranny +of the sparsely furnished room. + +Mrs. Whitney sighed. The room was her bugbear. She had dignified it with +the name of "studio," but it looked what it was--a workshop. Winslow +Whitney, considered in clubdom as a dilettante and known to scientists as +an inventor of ability, frowned impatiently as he observed his wife's air +of disapprobation. + +"My dear, we must agree to disagree," he said, lowering his voice. "My +brain is carrying too much just now; I cannot be confused by side issues. +Everything must wait until my invention is completed." + +"Is your daughter's welfare of secondary importance?" + +"What?" Whitney surveyed his wife in startled surprise, and her handsome +face flushed under his scrutiny. "What is the matter with Kathleen's +welfare? Do I illtreat her? Is she refused money? Do I make her spend +hours here helping me in this"--sarcastically--"sweatshop? Four years ago +she took up this fad of painting; you encouraged her at it--you know you +did," shaking an accusing finger at his wife. "You persuaded me to let +her study in Germany, and she hasn't been worth a button since--as far +as home comfort goes." + +"Winslow!" + +"It's true," doggedly. "Formerly she was willing and glad to help me with +my modeling, help me in making calculations, tracings--now she spends her +time philandering." + +"All young girls flirt, Winslow." + +"But Kathleen was always so shy," Whitney shook his head. "Now I'm asked +at the club if she isn't engaged to this man and that." + +"Will you never realize that Kathleen is exceptionally pretty, with the +gift of fascination?" + +"A dangerous power," said Whitney gravely. "I do not entirely approve of +the men whose attentions Kathleen encourages." + +"As for instance...." + +"Young Potter, and this Baron Frederic von Fincke--you know, Minna, I do +not approve of international marriages, and I am very glad that Kathleen +refused that Englishman, John Hargraves, whom she met in Germany...." + +"I sometimes wonder if she regrets," said Mrs. Whitney musingly. +"Kathleen hears from him occasionally--and at times she is so very odd in +her manner." + +"Humph! I hope not. I don't want her to be a war bride," retorted +Whitney. "And all Englishmen of family are at the front these days. You +don't think, Minna," with quickly suppressed nervousness, "that Kathleen +can be fond of Sinclair Spencer." + +"Sinclair Spencer?" echoed Mrs. Whitney. "Why he is double her age, and +besides, Winslow, his habits are not...." + +"I know," gloomily, as his wife paused. "I would certainly never give my +consent to such a marriage. But, Minna, he is forever hanging around +Kathleen and haunts this house." + +"So much so that Kathleen is heartily sick of him," said Mrs. Whitney +comfortingly. "She is not the girl to really care for a man of his +caliber. After all, Winslow," unable to restrain the dig, "you are +responsible for Sinclair Spencer's intimate footing in this house...." + +"Intimate footing? Nothing of the sort. Just because I employed him as my +patent attorney, you and Kathleen did not have to throw yourselves at +his head and have him sitting in your pockets." + +Mrs. Whitney laughed outright. "My dear Winslow, neither Kathleen nor I +encouraged him to come here. If you are afraid," her eyes twinkling, +"that Kathleen considers his attentions seriously, I will sound her on +the subject. And this brings me back to what I was going to say +originally; you must inquire about the men Kathleen meets. She is at the +impressionable age and as apt as not to pick up an undesirable _parti_." + +"Why didn't Kathleen remain a schoolgirl?" fumed Whitney. "Then we only +had to engage competent nurses and look up their references and our +responsibility ended." + +"Your responsibility is just beginning," said Mrs. Whitney cheerfully. +"By the way, the days are short, and Kathleen should be at home by five +o'clock at least; this is a rough neighborhood for a beautiful girl to +walk through unattended." + +"My forefathers found no fault with this neighborhood," replied Whitney +stiffly. "Then it was fashionable, now it is a good respectable business +section; and if dividends continue to dwindle you may thank your stars we +are in a business section--for convenience' sake. I will not give up this +house, Minna, even to please you." + +"Dear Winslow, don't excite yourself." Mrs. Whitney laid an affectionate +hand on his arm. "Remember Dr. McLane's advice ... and dinner will be +served in an hour. Please come down and get it while it is hot," and not +waiting to hear his halfhearted promise she walked from the room and +closed the door. It was some seconds before Whitney resumed his +interrupted work. + +"Only a little while now," he muttered--"only a little while." + +Before proceeding to her bedroom Mrs. Whitney sought the suite of rooms +which had been given to Kathleen on her coming of age two months before. +Finding the prettily decorated and furnished sitting-room empty she +walked into the adjoining bedroom and saw Kathleen sitting at her +dressing table. + +"What detained you?" she asked kindly, as the girl turned on her +entrance. + +"The symphony concert was not over until twenty-five minutes ago. Won't +you sit down, dear?" pulling forward a chair. "I must go on with my +dressing. My pink satin, Julie, thank you," as the French maid appeared. + +"Are you dining out tonight?" in surprise. "I thought you told me you had +no engagement for this evening." + +"I hadn't, mother. This invitation was quite unexpected," explained +Kathleen, arranging her hair with care. "On my return from the concert I +found this note from Miss Kiametia Grey asking me to fill a place and +prevent thirteen at her dinner tonight." + +"I see." Mrs. Whitney inspected the dainty note-paper and forceful +handwriting through her gold lorgnette. The word of Miss Kiametia Grey +was as the law of the Medes and Persians to her many friends, and Mrs. +Whitney had a high regard for the wealthy spinster who cloaked her +warm-hearted impulsiveness under an erratic and often brusque manner. +"You cannot very well refuse. Who sent you those orchids?" pointing to a +handsome bouquet lying half out of its box on the bed. + +"Sinclair Spencer," briefly. "Be careful, Julie, don't muss my hair," +and discussing unimportant matters Kathleen hurried her dressing as much +as possible. + +"Not knowing you were going out I told Henry he would not be needed +tonight," said Mrs. Whitney, suddenly waking up to the fact that Kathleen +was ready to go. "You had better order a herdic." + +"Oh!" Kathleen gazed at her blankly. "And the dinner is at the Chevy +Chase Club." + +"Pardon, madame," Julie, the maid, spoke in rapid French. "Mademoiselle +Grey telephoned to ask if mademoiselle had returned and said that she +hoped she could dine with her. Knowing madame had no engagement this +evening, I took the great liberty of telling Henry to be here with the +limousine." + +"Quite right, Julie," Mrs. Whitney rose. "Don't forget your orchids, +Kathleen." + +"I am not going to wear them; they"--not meeting Mrs. Whitney's +eyes--"they would stain my dress. Good night, mother. I am likely to be +late; don't either you or Dad wait up for me." + +An hour later, her naturally rosy cheeks a deeper tint from the +consciousness that she was late, Kathleen made a charming picture as she +stood just within the entrance to the assembly room of the Chevy Chase +Club, waiting to greet her hostess who was at that moment marshalling her +guests out to the private dining-room. It was several minutes before Miss +Kiametia Grey discovered Kathleen's presence. + +"So very glad you could come," she said, squeezing her hand warmly. "Not +only did I want to be helped over the thirteen bugaboo, but I have such a +nice dinner partner for you. Captain Miller. Yes, Judge, you are to take +me out. Kathleen, introduce yourself to the Captain." + +"Am I to find him by the process of elimination?" laughed Kathleen, as +Miss Kiametia laid her hand on the Judge's arm. + +"He is just back of you," she called, and Kathleen turned around. Every +vestige of color left her cheeks as she encountered the steadfast gaze of +a tall, broad-shouldered man in immaculate evening dress. + +"You?" she blurted out, her white lips barely forming the word. "_You_?" + +There was an agonizing pause, then Captain Miller stepped toward her. + +"Suppose we go out to dinner," he suggested suavely. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +AN EVENTFUL EVENING + + +While keeping up an animated conversation with Judge Powers, Miss +Kiametia Grey saw with inward perturbation that her vis-a-vis, Captain +Miller, was spending much of his time between courses making bread +pellets. What possessed Kathleen Whitney? She was usually the soul of +courtesy, and yet her hostess had not seen her address one word to her +dinner partner. Possibly Kathleen had taken offense at her off-hand +introduction to the handsome officer. But that was not like the +warmhearted, charming girl she had come to love and admire, and Miss +Kiametia ate her dinner with less and less relish as she tried to keep +up her end of the conversation and forget about the pair seated +opposite her. + +Captain Charles Miller had just finished helping himself to an ice when, +from the tail of his eye, he saw Kathleen quickly palm his place card. + +"Let us make it an exchange," he said, and reaching across her plate, +picked up the pretty hand-painted Japanese card bearing her name, and +slipped it inside the pocket of his white vest. + +For the first time that evening there was color in Kathleen's cheeks. + +"You have not lost your--" + +"Courage?" + +"Effrontery," she finished. "I cannot see that the years have brought +much change." + +"To you, most certainly not," and there was no mistaking the admiration +in his eyes. + +"I object to personalities." She paused. "And particularly on slight +acquaintance." + +Miller bowed. "It is my loss that we have not met before," and he did not +miss the look of relief that lighted her eyes for the fraction of a +second. Swiftly he changed the subject. "Who is the man glaring at us +from the end of the table?" + +"Baron Frederic von Fincke." Her manner was barely civil and that was +all. Under his heavy eyebrows Miller's eyes snapped. She should talk to +him, and he squared his broad shoulders. + +"I have already met the young girl sitting next him," he said, "and who +is her dinner partner?" + +"Captain Edwin Sayre, United States Army." + +"Of what branch of the service?" + +"Ordnance." + +"Is it true, Miss Kathleen," broke in the man seated on her right, "that +Captain Sayre has resigned from the army to take a position in the Du +Pont Powder Works?" + +"I believe so." + +"Is that not establishing a bad precedent, Mr. Spencer?" inquired Miller. +He had met the lawyer on his arrival before dinner. "Suppose other +officers follow his example, what will the army do in case of hostilities +with--eh--Mexico?" + +"Probably the officers will apply for active service." Sinclair Spencer, +glad of the pretext that talking to Miller gave him of bending nearer +Kathleen, turned his back on his dinner partner. That Kathleen had given +him her full attention throughout the dinner had partly compensated for +the fact that she was not wearing his orchids. It had been weeks since he +had enjoyed so uninterrupted a talk with her. That her manner was +distrait and her replies somewhat haphazard escaped him utterly. The +drive to Chevy Chase was both long and cold, and while waiting for Miss +Kiametia's other guests to assemble before he presented himself, he had +enjoyed more than one cocktail. That stimulant, combined with Miss +Kiametia's excellent champagne, had dulled his perceptions. "The officers +will be given their old rank," continued Spencer. "In the meantime they +will have gained most valuable experience." + +"There is really no prospect now of a war with Mexico." As she spoke +Kathleen looked anxiously across at Miss Kiametia, but her hostess showed +no disposition to give the signal for rising. Kathleen was aware by his +thick speech and flushed features that Spencer had taken more wine than +was good for him. She desired to ignore Captain Miller, but she was +equally desirous not to encourage Spencer's attentions. She moved her +chair back as far as she could from the table to avoid the latter's near +presence as he bent toward her. Deliberately she turned and continued her +remarks to Miller. "As soon as a fair election is held and a president +elected, he will be recognized by our Government." + +Miller laughed. "A fair election and Mexico are a contradiction of terms. +Trouble there is by no means over. I hope that you are not a +peace-at-any-price American?" + +"Indeed I am not," and Kathleen's eyes sparkled. "I am for peace +with a punch." + +Again Spencer cut into the conversation, but his condition was so +apparent that Kathleen shrank from him. "Miss Kathleen, give me firs' +dance," he demanded, as Miss Kiametia laid aside her napkin and pushed +back her chair. + +In a second Baron Frederic von Fincke was by her side, and with a sigh of +thankfulness Kathleen accepted his eager demand for a dance, and they +hastened into the assembly room, which, stripped of its furniture, was +already filled with dancers. It was the regular Wednesday night dance at +the club and the room was crowded. Kathleen had no difficulty in avoiding +Captain Miller. Since her debut she had reigned an acknowledged belle in +society, and she was quickly importuned by men eager for a dance. But as +she laughed and jested with her partners, she was conscious of lagging +time and numbing brain. Could she keep up the farce much longer? + +From one of the doorways Sinclair Spencer watched the gay scene with +surly discontent. An attempt to dance, while its result had no effect +upon his understanding, had caused his partner hastily to seek her +chaperon. His only ray of consolation was that she had not been Kathleen +Whitney. Come to think of it, she had never thanked him for his orchids. +The oversight worried him, and he was about to attempt to dodge the +dancers and cross the room in search of Kathleen when Baron von Fincke +stopped and addressed him. + +"She is very beautiful, your Miss Whitney," he said slowly. His English +was not fluent "But she has not the tact of her pretty mother. _She_ +would never have shown her avoidance of Captain Miller quite so plainly +as did Miss Whitney during dinner." + +"'Twasn't 'voidance," protested Spencer. "I cut him out." + +"Then why postpone your wooing?" The foreigner permitted no hint of his +secret amusement to creep into his voice as he glanced from Spencer to +where Kathleen was dancing. + +"Go-going to ask Kathleen tonight," replied Spencer, with drunken +dignity. "I'm no la-laggard. Speak to Whitney, too; though that isn't +important--he won't refuse." He cogitated darkly for a moment. "If he +does ... I'll make things hot for him...." + +"Hush!" Von Fincke laid a heavy hand on Spencer's shoulder as he looked +carefully about them; apparently no one was within earshot. "Collect your +wits. The time is not ripe for threats, Spencer. The invention is not yet +completed; until it is--no threats. We must not kill the goose before the +golden egg is laid." + +"Washn't makin' threats," stammered Spencer, startled by the angry gleam +in his companion's eyes. "Now, don't get mad, von Fincke, think of all +I've done in that Mex--" + +"Come this way," and with no gentle hand the foreigner propelled Spencer +down the hall out of sight of the guests and out of doors. + +Miss Kiametia Grey, enjoying watching the dancing as much as her guests +enjoyed participating in it, was interrupted in her desultory +conversation with two chaperons by one of the club attendants. Upon +receiving his message she made her way to where Kathleen and her partner +had just paused after a breathless extra. + +"Having a good time, dearie?" she questioned. "It is a shame to interrupt +your pleasure, but your father has telephoned that you must be at home by +midnight." + +"And your car waits, Cinderella," put in Spencer who, suddenly returning, +had overheard Miss Kiametia's remark. He had a particularly hard time +with the pronunciation of "Cinderella." + +The spinster favored him with a frown, and the back view of a sharp +shoulder blade. To her mid-Victorian mind Sinclair Spencer was not +conducting himself as a gentleman should, and her half-considered resolve +to drop him from her visiting list became adamantine as she observed his +appearance. Slipping her hand inside Kathleen's arm she led her to the +cloakroom. + +"Catch me asking fourteen to dinner again!" she exclaimed. "It always +dwindles to thirteen at the last moment, and I have a nervous chill until +the number is completed." + +"Whose place did I fill?" asked Kathleen, presenting her cloak check +to the maid. + +"Nobody's, to be quite candid," Miss Kiametia smiled ruefully. "My dinner +was originally twelve, but Captain Miller was so charming this afternoon +that I asked him on impulse, and then sent for you to pair off with him." + +"Thank you." The dryness of her tone was not lost on the spinster. There +were times when she wished to box Kathleen's ears. She was a born +matchmaker, and Kathleen's indifference to matrimonial opportunities was +a constant source of vexation to her. + +"Never saw two people look so ideally suited to each other," she snapped. +Kathleen started as if stung. "And I'm told mutual aversion is often a +good beginning for a romance. I never saw you discourteous before, +Kathleen; you simply ignored Captain Miller until dessert." + +"Possibly I had good reason." Kathleen's color rose. "Where, pray, did +you pick him up?" + +"Tut, tut! Don't forget you are talking to a woman nearly old enough to +be your mother." But Miss Kiametia's kind heart softened as she saw +Kathleen felt her words. "There, dearie, don't mind an old crosspatch. +Captain Miller was introduced to me by Senator Foster. You can see with +half an eye that Captain Miller is a gentleman born and bred. All ready? +Then I'll run back to my other guests. Come and see me Sunday," and with +a friendly wave of her hand, Miss Kiametia returned to the dining-room +where the dancers had adjourned for supper. + +Kathleen found her limousine waiting at the entrance, and bidding the +club attendant good-night she stepped inside the car, but as her +chauffeur started to close the door he was pushed to one side. + +"Fa-sher tele-telephoned I was to shee you home," announced Spencer, +striving to enunciate clearly. His haste and unsteady gait precipitated +him almost on top of the girl as he endeavored to seat himself by her +side. "D-don't get scared," placing a moist hand on her wrist. "Fa-sher's +orders. Ask H-Henry." + +The chauffeur touched his cap. "Mr. Whitney did telephone me to bring +Mr. Spencer back with you, Miss Kathleen," he volunteered, and +without waiting for further orders he banged to the door and climbed +into his seat. + +With an indignant exclamation Kathleen leaned over, seized the +speaking-tube and whistled through it. But apparently the roar of the +open throttle drowned the whistle, for Henry did not pick up his end of +the tube. As the car started down the drive a man jumped to the +running-board, jerked open the car door, and without ceremony pushed +Spencer into a corner and seated himself between the latter and Kathleen. + +"Hope I didn't keep you waiting, Miss Whitney," he apologized. "Sorry to +have been late." + +Kathleen shrank back. She did not need the light from the lamp at the +entrance of the club grounds to tell her the intruder was Captain Miller. +She was too well acquainted with his voice. A voice she had hoped never +to hear again. + +Spencer, considerably shaken by the force Miller had used in thrusting +him back against the side of the car, muttered a string of curses, which +ended abruptly as Miller's elbow came in sharp contact with his ribs. + +Too bewildered for speech, Kathleen rested her head against the +upholstered back of the limousine. Neither of the men seemed inclined to +break the silence as the car sped swiftly toward Washington, and +gradually Kathleen's reasoning power returned to her. She was furiously +angry with herself, with the world, with Fate. Ah, she _would_ be +mistress of her own fate. Kathleen compressed her lips in mute +determination. Captain Miller must be made to understand that she would +not tolerate his further acquaintance. How dared he thrust his presence +upon her? Kathleen's hot anger cooled for a second; if Miller had not +thrust himself into the limousine she would in all probability have +either had to order Henry forcibly to eject Spencer, which might have +given rise to unpleasant gossip, or have endured alone the intoxicated +man's society for the five-mile drive into town. + +High-power arc lights were strung along the roadway, and under their +white glare Kathleen stole a glance at Miller. Handsome still, she +admitted to herself, and the same broad-shouldered, athletic figure. He +was the type of man which appeals to both men and women. She caught her +breath sharply as bitter memories crowded upon her, and slipping down her +hand, drew her skirts surreptitiously away from touching Miller. If he +noted the movement he gave no sign. + +As the lights of Washington appeared, the chauffeur reduced the +limousine's speed to that required by law. They were in the heart of the +resident section when a snore from Spencer explained his long silence. +The warmth and motion of the limousine, combined with his overindulgence +in wine, had lulled him to sleep. With an effort Kathleen roused herself +from her dismal reflections. + +"Can I leave you anywhere, Captain--Miller?" she inquired frigidly. + +"No thanks, I will walk to my hotel after I have seen you safely home." + +Kathleen fumbled with the clasp of her evening wrap and stared down the +empty streets. She waited until they were approaching Lafayette Square, +then broke her silence for the second time. + +"I desire that you leave me here," she stated calmly. "I am now within a +few blocks of my home." Without waiting for comment she leaned forward, +tapped upon the front window, and signaled Henry to stop. + +Miller rose as the limousine drew up to the curb. "As you wish," he said +courteously. "But I do not think this man a suitable companion for you," +and collaring Spencer, he opened the door and, thrusting the still +sleeping man out on the pavement, sprang out after him. + +Henry's eyes bulged as he saw the two men, but Miller's manner stopped +the ejaculation upon his lips. + +"Take Miss Whitney home," directed Miller, and lifting his hat to +Kathleen he watched the limousine turn a corner and disappear. Then he +glanced down at Spencer sprawling on the pavement. A queer smile lighted +his face as he stared at the lawyer. + +"What's your little game, Spencer?" he asked softly, and a hearty kick +punctuated the question. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +AT THE CAPITOL + + +Mrs. Whitney's usually placid disposition was decidedly ruffled, and she +took no pains to conceal her displeasure. + +"Really, Kathleen, you are greatly at fault," she said, as the girl +joined her in the vestibule. "The idea of keeping Henry at the Club until +after midnight! No wonder he is late now. No chauffeur can work both day +and night." + +"I'm sorry, mother," but Kathleen did not look particularly penitent; she +considered that the faithful Henry had a soft berth. That he worked +occasionally would not prove harmful. She had hoped to avoid going to the +Capitol that morning, and when told that Henry had not appeared either at +the house for orders or at the garage, she had supposed the trip would be +given up. But Mrs. Whitney was of the persevering kind, and with her to +plan was to accomplish. Decidedly upset by Henry's non-appearance in her +well conducted household, she had ordered the garage to fill his place +temporarily, and her limousine was at last at the door. + +Mrs. Whitney was giving her final direction to the new chauffeur as to +which she considered the best and safest route to the Capitol and the +speed she wished maintained, when her husband joined them. + +"I've decided to take a morning off and go with you," he announced, +entering the limousine. "Room for me on the back seat?" + +"Surely," and his wife patted the wide cushion. "We do not possess a +superabundance of flesh in this family." + +"Except Dad," interpolated Kathleen mischievously. She knew her father +disliked the idea of getting fat, while lacking the initiative of keeping +thin. "What you need, Dad, is a cold plunge and a ten-mile walk before +breakfast." + +Whitney shuddered. "Nice comfortable ideas you have, Kathleen, for a +winter day. It strikes me you should take a dose of your own medicine." +Inspecting her keenly. "Late hours do not improve your appearance, +young lady." + +"Thanks," but her usually sunny smile was strained. "And I suppose you +still work all night, Dad, disobeying Dr. McLane's orders." + +"I don't take orders from McLane," shortly. "And I didn't work very late +last night. Your mother came up and tried some of her Sisters in Unity +persuasion upon me, and I capitulated." + +Mrs. Whitney did not take the jest in good part. While she reveled in +society, she was essentially a clubwoman, and nothing delighted her so +much as debating and delivering addresses. She was a capital +extemporaneous speaker, and had held prominent offices in different +clubs. Possessing no sense of humor, which her husband and Kathleen had +in abundance, she seriously objected to their poking fun at her beloved +organization, the Sisters in Unity, of which she was a charter member. +Any allusion to it in fun she considered an offense in good taste. +Therefore withdrawing into dignified silence she permitted Whitney and +Kathleen to keep up the conversation. In fact, Whitney did most of the +talking, and neither he nor his wife perceived Kathleen's inattention. + +"I'm on the high road to solving the last problem," he exulted. "The +invention is simple, so very simple, but, Minna, it will revolutionize +many things in warfare. You won't be ashamed of your old Dad, Kathleen, +when the world acknowledges what I've done." + +"I'm proud of you now, and always have been," affirmed Kathleen, and +leaning over she placed a spray of lilies-of-the-valley from her bouquet +in his buttonhole. + +"Who sent you the flowers, Kathleen?" inquired Mrs. Whitney. + +"I don't know; I could find no card or note with them." + +"Perhaps Sinclair Spencer has decided to send them anonymously." With a +look of repugnance, Kathleen pulled the flowers off and before her father +could interfere, opened the door and tossed the bouquet into the street. +"Good gracious, Kathleen, don't take everything that I say literally!" +exclaimed Mrs. Whitney. "I am sorry I suggested...." + +"I am not, mother. After last night, nothing would induce me to wear +his flowers again," declared Kathleen with spirit. "Father, what made +you tele--" + +"Here we are," broke in Whitney, apparently not hearing Kathleen's +remark, as the limousine drew up at the entrance to the Senate side of +the Capitol. "Jump out, Kathleen. Careful, Minna." But without assistance +Mrs. Whitney sprang lightly to the ground, a worried look on her face. + +"I do believe, Winslow," she said, "that I have left my admission card to +the private gallery at home. It isn't in my bag." + +"Don't mind, I'll look up Randall Foster; he'll see we get in. Come +this way." + +They found the corridors of the huge building filled with hurrying men +and women, and Whitney spent fully twenty minutes before he succeeded in +obtaining the coveted card to the private gallery from his friend, +Senator Foster. To Mrs. Whitney's dismay they found the gallery filled; +but fortune favored them, for just after their entrance three women +seated in the front row rose and made their way out. With a quickness +which showed her familiarity with conventions Mrs. Whitney pounced upon +the seats, and sank into hers with a sigh of thankfulness. She had +overcome a number of obstacles that morning to get there, and though it +was a small matter she hated to be thwarted in anything she undertook. + +Kathleen, like many another Washingtonian, confined her visits to the +Capitol to sightseeing trips with out-of-town friends, and she had come +there that morning only because she could think of no good reason for +staying away. To her inward surprise she soon found her attention +absorbed by the debate going on in the Senate, and when one of the +distinguished lawmakers commenced a characteristic speech she became +unconscious of the flight of time. As the Senator ended his fiery +peroration, she raised her head and, glancing toward the Diplomats' +Gallery, recognized Captain Charles Miller sitting in the front row +regarding her. + +"Have you seen Medusa's head?" asked Whitney, tugging at her elbow. "Wake +up, Kathleen, unless you've been turned into marble. Your mother's told +you three times that Senator Foster has invited us to lunch with him. She +is waiting for us in the corridor. Come along." + +As they joined Mrs. Whitney, a young man hurried up to them. "I am +Senator Foster's secretary," he explained. "The Senator has gone direct +to the dining-room on the ground floor. This way, please," and he piloted +them to an elevator. On reaching the private dining-room of the Senate +they found not only Foster but Miss Kiametia Grey awaiting them. + +"This is my lucky day," exclaimed Foster, heartily. "First, you tell me +your wife and Miss Kathleen are here, Whitney; then I meet Kiametia on +the way to the gallery." Mrs. Whitney smiled covertly. The Senator's +courtship of the wealthy spinster was one of the most discussed topics in +smart society. "Couldn't resist the temptation to have you all lunch with +me," added Foster. "Won't you sit here, Mrs. Whitney," pulling out a +chair on his right, "and Kiametia," indicating the chair on his left, +"and Whitney next to you. Miss Kathleen, it's not etiquette to place +father and daughter together, but I have a stranger for your other hand. +Ah, here he comes...." + +Kathleen's back was to the entrance of the dining-room, but a sixth sense +warned her who the newcomer was, and her face was expressionless when +Foster introduced his friend, Captain Miller, to Mrs. Whitney and her +husband. After greeting Miss Kiametia, Miller stepped to Kathleen's side. + +"Good morning," he said quietly, and held out his hand. Kathleen drew +back, then good breeding mastered her indignation. A second later her +hand was laid in his and instantly withdrawn, but her fingers tingled +from his strong clasp. + +"Jolly party you must have had last night, Kiametia." Foster's cheery +voice enabled Kathleen to control her somewhat shaken nerves. "Telephoned +Sinclair Spencer to stop and see me this morning, but his servant said he +never showed up until noon today." + +"Kathleen pleaded guilty to a sleepless night," volunteered Mrs. Whitney, +to the girl's secret indignation. + +"It was the lobster," answered Miss Kiametia. "I tried to warn you not +to eat it, Kathleen." + +"Well, your lobster won't account for the non-appearance of Henry," +mourned Mrs. Whitney, her mind harking back to her own grievance. "How +d'ye do, Mrs. Sunderland," as an elaborately gowned woman swept by their +table, barely returning their greeting. + +"It is the regret of my life," announced Miss Kiametia, her eyes +twinkling, "that I never kept a photograph of Mrs. Sunderland taken when +she first came to Washington ten years ago. It would provide a study in +expression and expansion in social snobbery." + +Mrs. Whitney, conscious that she was perhaps rude by her silence, turned +to Captain Miller who had taken no part in the conversation. + +"Is this your first visit to Washington, Captain?" she inquired. + +"Yes, and I find its residents so delightful that I hope to +prolong my stay." + +"What did you think of the speech today?" broke in Foster. + +"Capital! The Senator is right; if this government ship purchase bill +goes through, the country will indeed be buying a quarrel." + +"Quite right," agreed Whitney, laying down his fork. "The only people +who fail to see it in that light are those advocating the bill's passage. +Every nation thinks the same." + +"Except possibly Germany," argued Foster. "She would probably try and +sell us the hundreds of interned ships in our seaports." + +"Well, why shouldn't she?" Miss Kiametia, with recollections of her +misgivings the night before, declined the lobster croquettes. "With the +German steamships and freighters interned here we should have a merchant +marine ready to our hand." + +"And thereby provide instant use for our navy," retorted Whitney. + +"Uncle Sam had better think twice before taking issue with the German +submarines," grumbled Miss Kiametia. + +Whitney's eyes lit with an angry sparkle, and he opened his mouth to +speak, but his wife gave him no opportunity. + +"Are you pro-German, Kiametia?" she asked in astonishment. + +"Well, I lean that way," admitted the spinster. "You know I'm named for +the sister of Pocahontas, and my drop of Indian blood gives me a good +memory. It strikes me that this nation is overlooking the American +Revolution, not to mention 1812, and I also recollect that England did +not show us particular friendship during the Civil War." + +"The idea of waving the bloody shirt of '76!" exclaimed Kathleen. "For +shame, Miss Kiametia! We Anglo-Saxons must stand together. And another +thing: Germany may have wiped the Belgians off the map, but she's lodged +them in every American heart." + +"And we'll wake up some day and find the Germans sitting in Canada," +retorted Miss Kiametia. "Looking at U. S." + +"'Over the garden wall,'" quoted Whitney laughing. "No, no, Kiametia. +Wave the bloody shirt, but don't try to scare us with a straw man." + +"Straw or not, the Kaiser is the world's bogy man. He has taught us a +lesson in preparedness which this country will be slow to imitate." + +"Uncle Sam is a good disciplinarian but a poor student," acknowledged +Whitney, fingering the table ornaments nervously. "Well, Foster, I've +enjoyed myself immensely, but there's work awaiting me at home, and I +really must run along." + +Mrs. Whitney, talking placidly with Captain Miller, looked considerably +taken aback by her husband's precipitancy. Hastily draining the last drop +of her demi-tasse, she added her thanks and good-byes, and followed her +husband and Kathleen from the room. + +"I'll walk home," announced Kathleen, as Whitney signaled to their +chauffeur. "It will do me good, I need a constitutional." + +"But--but it's over a mile," protested Mrs. Whitney. + +"All the better," and waving her muff in farewell, Kathleen hastened off +through the grounds in the direction of Pennsylvania Avenue. She found +the cold invigorating air a bracing tonic after the steam-heated +atmosphere of the Capitol, and was thoroughly enjoying her walk when she +became conscious that a figure was keeping pace with her. Looking up, she +recognized Captain Miller. Kathleen stopped. + +"Which way are you going?" she demanded, totally unconscious of the +pretty tableau she made, her dark beauty enhanced by a becoming hat and +silver fox furs. Not anticipating her abrupt halt, Miller was forced to +retrace his footsteps. + +"I spoke to you twice, Miss Whitney, but you apparently did not hear me," +he answered, lifting his hat. "I asked if I might accompany you, and took +silence for consent. My way lies your way." + +Kathleen's fingers clenched tightly together inside her muff. "Are you +dead to all sense of decency?" she asked. "Can you not see that your +presence is an offense?" + +Miller's color rose, and there was an ominous flash in his blue-gray +eyes, but she met his look undauntedly. "I think you take an exaggerated +view of the matter," he said quietly. "I desire your friendship." + +"You dare ask that after...." + +With a quiet masterful gesture Miller stopped her. "We are living in the +present," he said. "I repent the past. Come"--with deepening earnestness, +"you are warm-hearted, impulsive, generous--be generous to me--give me a +chance to make good. Before God, I will not fail you." + +Kathleen scanned him keenly. Could she place faith in his sincerity? +As she met the penetrating glance she knew of old, now softened by the +fascination of his winning smile, she came again under the old +personal charm. + +"I cannot be friends with a man whom I do not respect," she stammered. + +"But you shall respect me," with dogged determination, "and then...." + +A bevy of girls, coming out of Galt's, paused to greet Kathleen, and +Miller, not waiting to complete his sentence, bowed to her and continued +up the Avenue. He paid no attention to the streets he traversed, but on +turning into F Street sought shelter near a shop to light his cigarette. +As he threw the burnt match to the pavement he was attracted by a large +photograph of Kathleen Whitney in the window. It was an excellent +likeness, and Miller, studying the clear-cut features, the lovely eyes, +and soft rippling hair, felt his heart throb. He glanced at the sign +above the window and found he was standing before Edmonston's +Photographic Studio. On impulse he entered the building. + +Miller's absorption in Kathleen's photograph had not gone unnoticed, and +when he emerged from the studio, the observer accosted him. + +"Beg pardon, sir, I'm Henry, Mr. Whitney's chauffeur," he said. "Mr. +Spencer, sir, was much put out to wake up this morning, sir, and find +himself in a strange hotel." + +"Better that than being registered 'drunk and disorderly,'" smiled +Miller. + +"Yes, Captain Miller. I told him, sir, that you had done him a service." + +"Ah, indeed? May I ask how you know who I am?" + +"I made out you'd have trouble with Mr. Spencer, sir, and as soon as I'd +left Miss Kathleen at home, sir, I ran the car back down by the park, +sir, just in time to see you leading Mr. Spencer into the hotel. The +doorman there gave me your name, sir." + +"I see," replied Miller thoughtfully. "I lunched with Mr. Whitney today, +and it was mentioned that you had not shown up," and his eyes were guilty +of a peculiar glint as he scrutinized the intelligent face and finely +proportioned figure of the chauffeur. + +Henry reddened. "I wasn't feeling very well in the night, sir, and +overslept," he explained. "Eh, Captain," as Miller turned away. "I saw +you looking, sir, at Miss Kathleen's picture. Did you get a copy in +Edmonston's?" + +"No," curtly. + +"I thought not, sir. They never part with their photographs in there, +sir. But there's an extra one in Mr. Whitney's library, sir, which I +could ... could...." he stopped abruptly as he met Miller's gaze. + +After a pause Miller slipped his hand into his pocket and on pulling it +out disclosed a gold coin lying in his bare palm. "I see you are +amenable to reason, Henry," he said serenely, and the chauffeur +stammered his thanks. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +PHANTOM WIRES + + +Sinclair Spencer walked up and down the Whitney drawing-room examining +the costly bric-a-brac, totally blind to the merits of each piece and in +several instances replacing them with entire disregard as to whether they +rested on the edge, or on firm foundation. His occupation was interrupted +by the return of Vincent, the butler. + +"Miss Kathleen is not at home, sir," he announced. + +"Quite certain, Vincent?" holding out a treasury bill with a +persuasive gesture. + +"Quite, sir." Vincent looked offended, but slipped the large tip in his +pocket with inward satisfaction. He saw Spencer's crestfallen appearance +and thawed. "Julie, the maid, says Miss Kathleen hasn't returned from the +Red Cross meeting, sir, but that she's liable to come in 'most any time." + +"Well, perhaps--is Mr. Whitney at home?" + +"Yes, sir; but I dassent interrupt him, sir. He's working in his studio." + +"Then I'll wait here for a time, at least. Don't wait, Vincent" + +"Very good, sir." But Vincent paused irresolutely. His conscience was +reproaching him. Miss Kathleen's orders had been very explicit; if Mr. +Spencer called to see her father, well and good; if he came to see _her_, +he was not to be admitted. + +For six weeks the seesaw had kept up, and Vincent had grown weary of +answering the door for Spencer. He had been an almost daily caller, +occasionally admitted when Winslow Whitney was downstairs, and always a +visitor on Mrs. Winslow's weekly day at home. But these latter visits had +profited him nothing. Kathleen never gave him an opportunity to see her +alone, and it was the same at dinners and dances to which they were both +invited. Spencer had come there that morning fully determined to see +Kathleen and, as he expressed it to himself, "have an understanding with +her." Having for once gotten by Vincent's relaxed guard, wild horses +would not have dragged him away. + +Vincent's harassed expression altered to one of relief as he heard the +front doorbell sound, but his feelings underwent a change when he saw +Kathleen standing in the vestibule instead of Mrs. Whitney, who had +announced that she would return early as she was walking and not using +the limousine. + +"Any mail for me in the noon delivery?" asked Kathleen, and her smile +faded at the butler's negative reply. Why did her letters to England +remain unanswered? John Hargraves was the promptest of correspondents, +and the question she had asked him required an answer. Preoccupied with +her own thoughts, she was about to enter the elevator totally oblivious +to Vincent's agitated manner. As she placed her hand on the elevator +door, Sinclair Spencer walked into the hall. + +"How are you?" he said, his off-hand salutation concealing much +tribulation of spirit. Vincent caught one glimpse of Kathleen's face and +discreetly vanished. + +"Do you wish to see my father, Mr. Spencer?" asked Kathleen, utterly +ignoring his outstretched hand. + +"No. I came expressly to see you," and his air of dogged determination +was not to be mistaken. Kathleen came to a sudden decision. + +"Suppose we go into the drawing-room," she suggested. "I can spare you a +few minutes." But once in the room she did not sit down. "Why do you wish +to see me, Mr. Spencer?" + +"To ask you to marry me." Sinclair's usually florid face was white, and +his customary self-assurance had departed. + +"I thank you for the compliment," with icy politeness, "but I must +decline your proposal." + +"You--you refuse?" Spencer spoke as in a dream. + +"Yes. Surely, Mr. Spencer, you cannot have expected any other +answer--cannot have deluded yourself into thinking that I could possibly +accept you? I have tried in every means within my power to discourage +your attentions." + +"But why?" Spencer's air castles were tumbling about his ears, but he +stuck to his guns. His affection for Kathleen, fanned by her +indifference, had become all-absorbing. Courted and flattered by mothers +with marriageable daughters, he had come to believe that he had but to +speak to win Kathleen. + +"Why discuss the matter further?" asked Kathleen. She heartily wished the +scene over; it had not been of her seeking. To wantonly hurt another's +feelings was alien to her nature, and that Spencer was suffering his +demeanor betrayed. + +"I must." Spencer came a step nearer. "Tell me why you refuse me." + +"Your habits ..." + +"I haven't touched a drop of wine since that dinner at Chevy Chase," +triumphantly. "And if you don't approve, I'll not take another drink as +long as I live." + +"I certainly think it would be better for you to stick to that +resolution." Kathleen moved toward the hall door. "I really do not see +any object in prolonging this discussion." + +"But I do," following her. "I have perhaps startled you by my abrupt +manner. I do love you, Kathleen"--his voice shook--"love you better than +anybody. I know that I can make you care for me. I have money ..." + +"That makes no difference." + +"With you, perhaps not," but Spencer looked dubious. "I swear never to +touch wine again. I will gratify your every wish"--Kathleen shook her +head, and he added heatedly, "What is there about me you don't like?" + +"I--I cannot tell--" Kathleen edged toward the door. "It's a case of +'Dr. Fell.'" + +"Fell?" Spencer turned red, his self-esteem pricked at last. "Is that +another name for Captain Miller?" with insolent significance. + +Kathleen stepped back as if struck. "I think it time to end this +conversation," she said, but her remark received no attention. + +"I see it all now," muttered Spencer. "Captain Miller has won your +affection." + +"He has not." The contradiction slipped from Kathleen with more vehemence +than she intended. Spencer brightened. In endeavoring to convince +herself, she had thoroughly convinced him. + +"You are not engaged to him?" he asked eagerly. + +"Certainly not." Kathleen crimsoned with indignation. How dared Sinclair +Spencer catechise her! "I must insist that you leave. And, Mr. Spencer, +please remember, I desire that you never again allude to your proposal of +marriage." + +"But I shall," doggedly. + +"Then our acquaintance will cease." Her manner even more than her words +roused Spencer to sudden wrath. + +"No, it won't," he retorted. "And I will make you--understand--make you +reconsider your refusal to marry me. Good morning," and without a +backward look he departed. + +Kathleen drew a long breath of relief as the front door closed behind +him. "Thank God, he's gone," she said aloud, unconscious that her words +were overheard. "He is insufferable. I cannot understand why father ever +encouraged him to come to the house." + +Rapid walking soon brought Spencer to the corner of Seventeenth and H +Streets, and hailing a taxicab he gave the chauffeur an address on +Nineteenth Street. Fifteen minutes later he was ushered into the presence +of Baron Frederic von Fincke. + +"And how is the excellent Mr. Spencer this morning?" asked von Fincke +genially, offering his guest a chair. + +Spencer, however, remained standing and disregarded the question as well +as the chair. + +"Who is this fellow, Charles Miller?" he asked in his turn. + +Von Fincke laughed softly. "Consult your 'Who's Who,' my dear friend; do +not come to me, an outsider." + +"You know why I come to you," with pointed accentuation. "I am determined +to find out Miller's antecedents, and I am convinced you can tell me if +you will." + +Von Fincke shook his head. "You overrate my powers," he insisted suavely. +"I have met Captain Miller as one meets any visitor to this cosmopolitan +city. My acquaintance extends no further than our meeting at Miss Grey's +dinner at the Chevy Chase Club six weeks ago." + +Spencer paused in indecision; for the moment, the foreigner's candid +manner disarmed his doubts. "Quite sure you can't find out about Miller?" +he persisted. + +"I can but question my few friends in Washington; their information of +Captain Miller may be of the vaguest. Why do you not apply to Senator +Randall Foster? He and the Captain are what you call--inseparable." + +"So they are, but I'm not going to Foster for anything." + +"No?" + +"_No!_" The repetition was almost a roar. Spencer's temper, always +uncertain, had been severely tried that morning, and was rapidly giving +way under the strain of bitter disappointment. "I ran up against Foster +in those Senate lobby charges, and of all the cantankerous--" He paused +expressively, then added, "I used to have a high regard for his sagacity +and business judgment until he lost his head over that Grey woman. +Because she don't choose to be decently civil, he's turned surly. You +wait! I'll bring them to time, and Kathleen Whitney also." + +"Ah!" + +"You may 'Ah!' all you wish, but I am going to marry that girl, in spite +of her refusal." + +"And how is that to be accomplished if you have not the young +lady's consent?" + +Spencer thrust his hands deep into his pockets and faced von Fincke +resolutely. "She idolizes her father; his word is law to her." + +"And you have his consent to the match?" + +"Not yet, but I mean to get it; if necessary, by moral suasion." + +"Gently, my dear Spencer, gently." Von Fincke held up a warning hand. +"Whitney must not be annoyed." + +"Indeed?" Spencer eyed his companion suspiciously. "And why not?" + +"His invention...." + +Spencer's laugh was not pleasant. "How do you know it isn't completed and +patent applied for?" + +"Is that so?" Von Fincke walked over to his desk and seated himself. +"Suppose we sit and talk...." + +"No," defiantly. "The time for talking has gone by. You know, I'll bet my +last cent that Whitney has patents pending in the United States Patent +Office for his invention. All this waiting for him to finish his work is +poppy-cock. Why are you protecting Whitney, unless he's your tool?" + +Von Fincke laughed. "You have strange ideas. Do sit and let us change +the topic of conversation." + +"I won't." Spencer strode to the door. "I've done with your dirty +work...." + +"Tut! tut!" Von Fincke, who had been leaning back in his revolving chair, +straightened up. "Your language, my dear friend, can be improved ..." + +"And so can my knowledge," significantly. "I'm going to investigate +Whitney's affairs and his house before I'm much older. Don't bother to +ring for a servant," he added, seeing his host's hand hovering over the +electric desk bell, and not waiting for an answer, bolted from the room. + +Von Fincke's hand descended on the electric bell button with imperative +force, and rising he hastened into the hall. He paused at sight of his +breathless valet ushering Spencer down the staircase. Not until he was +thoroughly convinced that Spencer had left the house did he turn back +from the head of the stairs. + +"He grows troublesome, that Spencer," he mused as he made his way to his +own suite of rooms. + +An hour later Captain Charles Miller turned in at the main entrance of +his hotel and went directly to his room on the eighth floor. Humming +softly to himself he hung up his overcoat and hat in the closet, and +removing his coat placed that also on a hanger. Back once more in his +bedroom, he carefully arranged the heavy draperies over his window so +that his movements were completely screened, and taking a black silk +muffler fastened it securely over the knob of the hall door. The window +and door of his private bathroom were likewise draped. Finally satisfied +that he was secure from observation and all sound deadened, Miller took +from his overcoat pocket four porcelain castors, and dropping on his +knees by the side of his brass bed, he deftly inserted them in place of +the bed's regular steel castors. + +Pausing long enough to clear the toilet articles from his bureau, he +lifted from a box-shaped leather bag marked "Underwood" a Massie +Rosonophone and deftly installed it on the bureau top. Taking a slight +copper wire he attached it to one of the posts of the bed and connected +it with the apparatus, making sure that the wire was suspended clear of +the ground and surrounding objects. With another suspended wire he +grounded the apparatus on the radiator. + +At last convinced that all was adjusted properly, Miller moved over to +his desk and gazed intently at a large photograph of Kathleen Whitney. It +was an occupation of which he never tired. The faint buzz of the alarm +bell sent him back to the wireless apparatus, and slipping on his +headpiece telephone he picked up his pencil. Listening intently to the +dots and dashes, Miller took down the message passing through space. + +As he jotted down the last letter and the wireless apparatus ceased to +receive, Miller regarded the written coded message before him on his +writing pad with deep satisfaction. He was at last in tune with the +transmitting station. The code only remained to be solved. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +KAISER BLUMEN + + +Miss Kiametia Grey was having her last Tuesday at home before Holy Week, +and the drawing-room of her apartment was hardly large enough to hold all +her callers comfortably. She was assisted in receiving by several of her +friends, and Kathleen Whitney presided over the tea-table. + +Kathleen, chatting gayly with first one visitor and then another, was +unaware that with the passing of time her eyes strayed more and more +frequently to the hall doorway, nor was she conscious that they gained an +added brightness on perceiving Captain Charles Miller enter the room. + +Owing to the departure of other guests Miss Kiametia contented herself +with shaking Miller's hand warmly. "Come and talk to me later," she +called, and turned her attention to those waiting to say good-bye. But +she was not so absorbed as not to note Miller's progress down the +room. From the corner of her eye she saw him stop and speak to +Kathleen, accept a cup of tea, and walk over and seat himself on the +sofa by Mrs. Whitney. That Mrs. Whitney was pleased by the attention +was plain to be seen. + +"Hum!" chuckled the astute spinster to herself. "'Always kiss the blossom +when making love to the bud'--Captain Miller is nobody's fool." + +"Stop looking at Miller," admonished Senator Foster, standing by her +elbow. "Pay attention to me." + +"I will, if you will inform me who Miller is," she retorted. + +Foster looked at her oddly. "The Pied Piper, judging from the way you +women run after him," he grumbled. "Can't a good-looking man come to +Washington without being swamped with invitations?" + +"Sour grapes!" Miss Kiametia's kind smile took the sting from her words, +and Foster, whose looks were his sensitive point, laughed. "You haven't +answered my question." + +"He brought me letters from the president of a big munitions factory in +Pennsylvania," he answered readily. "I gather--mind you I know nothing +positively and must not be quoted...." + +"Quite so. Well, I'm no parrot." The spinster nodded her head +vigorously. "You're safe; go on." + +Again Foster hesitated. He knew Miss Kiametia dearly loved a morsel of +gossip, but he also knew that she could be trusted not to divulge matters +of real importance. He, as well as the other members of the set in which +the Whitneys and Miss Grey belonged, had observed Captain Miller's +attention to Kathleen, had noted the gradual thawing of her stiff manner +to him as the weeks went on, and he believed that Miss Kiametia's +questions were prompted by the affection she bore Kathleen. He also was +aware that the spinster cordially detested Sinclair Spencer and was +secretly elated at Kathleen's indifference to the lawyer's attentions. + +"I imagine Miller is here in the interests of the Allies," he said, +lowering his voice. "I know that he has entered into negotiations for the +purchase of war munitions, and that he is hoping to put through a deal +for certain cavalry horses. I am so positive that he is what he +represents himself to be that I have given him letters to influential men +in my State." + +"That possibly explains his many abrupt absences from the city," +commented Miss Kiametia sagely. "He has the habit of backing out of +dinner engagements at the eleventh hour. But tell me, do you know +nothing about the man's family--his character?" + +"Not a word. His letter of introduction was good, his business references +excellent, and so"--the Senator's gesture was expressive. "I had no idea +he would prove such a Beau Brummel when I introduced him to my Washington +friends." Foster turned and looked across the room at Miller. "I should +judge that he has seen service, his carriage is military." + +"He appears to be an American, but he has certain mannerisms"--Miss +Kiametia paused and, not completing her sentence, turned her attention +to other guests. After their departure she beckoned Foster to join her +by the door. + +"Captain Miller piques my curiosity," she whispered. "You say you +know nothing about his family--I am going to find out about his +character _now_." + +"How?" Foster looked mystified. "Where are you going?" as she moved +forward. "Remember, what I told you was confidential." + +"Trust me," and with a most undignified wink, Miss Kiametia sailed down +upon Mrs. Whitney and Captain Miller. "You can't escape me," she said to +the latter, as he rose on her approach. "You must come and be +victimized." + +"In what way?" + +"By my latest fad--palmistry. Come, Minna, well go into the library," +and laying a determined hand on Miller's arm she led the way into the +cozy room, followed by Mrs. Whitney and the highly amused Senator. +Miss Kiametia was a good organizer, and she marshalled her three +guests into seats by the library table, placing Miller between herself +and Mrs. Whitney. + +"Is this a seance?" inquired Kathleen, watching the group from the +doorway. Another of Miss Kiametia's receiving party had taken her place +at the tea-table. + +"Come and lend Captain Miller your moral support," called Miss Kiametia, +while his character is being divulged. "No, you are to sit still," as +Miller made a motion to rise. "Kathleen can stand behind us and prompt me +if my deductions go astray; she knows you better than the rest of us." + +Kathleen advanced with lagging steps into the room. She had turned +singularly pale, and Miss Kiametia, watching her closely, wondered if +she was taking the game seriously. She stopped just back of Miller's +chair and rested her hand lightly on Miss Kiametia's shoulder as the +latter pulled the electric lamp nearer so that its rays fell full upon +Miller's palm. + +"Has the size of the hand anything to do with the subject?" asked Miller, +as the spinster picked up a magnifying glass. + +"Don't make suggestions to the oracle," laughed Foster. "Go ahead, +Kiametia." + +"Your life line is good," pronounced the spinster, "but as it divides +toward the end you will probably die in a country different from that of +your birth." + +"Any particular time scheduled for the event?" questioned Miller, +skeptically, but Miss Kiametia ignored the remark. + +"This branch from the head line to the heart"--indicating it with a +slender paper-cutter--"denotes some great affection which makes you blind +to reason and danger." She paused irresolutely. "Pshaw! I'm reading from +the left hand, let me see the other...." + +"Isn't the one nearest the heart the surest guide?" inquired Miller. + +"It is not," with decision, and Miller, smiling whimsically, extended his +hand toward them. + +"The right hand of fellowship," he remarked, placing his palm directly +under the light. + +"My theory is correct." Miss Kiametia shot a triumphant look at Mrs. +Whitney. "There are always more lines in the right palm than in the left; +and see, here is a wider space between the lines of the head and +life--contact with the world, Captain Miller, has taught you +self-reliance, promptness of action, and readiness of thought. Hello, +what is that on your index finger--a half-moon?" + +"Yes." Miller smiled covertly; the spinster's seriousness amused him +immensely. "Isn't that according to Hoyle?" + +"No, nor according to Cheiro, either," tartly. "Hold your palm steady so +that I can see more clearly. It's a scar, isn't it?" + +"Yes." + +Mrs. Whitney and Senator Foster were closely following Miss +Kiametia's words, and neither saw the perplexed frown which wrinkled +Kathleen's forehead as she stared down at Miller's right hand. She +was distinctly puzzled. + +"The strength of your own individuality will carry you over many +obstacles," finished Miss Kiametia, giving Miller's hand a friendly tap +with the paper-cutter. + +"Read mine next," and Foster held out his right hand. + +"Haven't time; besides," the spinster's eyes twinkled, "I know your +character like a book. What is it, Sylvester?" as her colored butler +appeared, card tray in hand. "More visitors? Oh, yes, the Peytons--I +particularly want you to know them, Minna; no, you must not think of +leaving yet," and with her accustomed energy Miss Kiametia whisked Mrs. +Whitney into the drawing-room, Senator Foster following. As Kathleen +stepped toward the door, Miller stopped her. + +"Don't go," he pleaded, his voice, though low, vibrating with pent-up +feeling. "Kathleen, my beloved, don't go." + +She placed an unsteady hand on the portiere. "I must," she stammered. +"They need me...." + +"No, I am the one who needs you. My last chance of happiness lies in the +balance. Kathleen, give me a hearing." + +Slowly, reluctantly she turned in his direction. "Be wise, leave things +as they are...." + +"I cannot." Miller was white with the intensity of his emotion. "I love +you, love you." + +Kathleen's hand crept to her heart as if to still its wild throb. + +"Don't, don't"--she looked beseechingly at him. "Have you forgotten..." + +"Yes," boldly. "I only realize you are all in all to me." + +In the dead silence that followed the ticking of the small desk clock was +distinctly audible. + +"Why not leave well enough alone?" she begged, a trifle wildly. + +"Because I cannot stand it," huskily. "To see you day after day--Will +nothing I say convince or move you? Am I outside the pale of affection?" + +No answer. In the prolonged silence Miller's self-control snapped, and +stepping to her side he drew her in his arms. For a second she struggled +to release herself, then her strength gave way and she leaned limply +against him. + +"I am a fool, a fool to listen to you," she gasped, "but I--I--love you +now as I never did before." + +With a low cry of unutterable happiness Miller bent his head and their +lips met in a passionate kiss. + +The hall clock was chiming six when Mrs. Whitney and Kathleen reached +home. Not waiting for her mother, Kathleen ran upstairs and shut herself +in her own room. Without troubling to switch on the electric lights she +made her way to a chair by the window and flung herself into it. + +Love, the all-powerful, had conquered reason. Against her better judgment +she had pledged her faith to Charles Miller. Her heart throbbed high +with hope, and with dreamy, happy eyes she stared out of the window into +the darkness. Slowly she reviewed the events of the past six weeks. Never +intrusive, yet always by her side and at her beck and call, never at a +loss to do and say the right thing, Miller had wooed her in his own +masterful way, trampling down prejudice, suspicion, unbelief, until he +had gained his heritage--love. The specter of the past was +laid--involuntarily Kathleen shivered. + +"Is Mademoiselle here?" asked the French maid, peering in uncertainly +from the hall door. She had rapped repeatedly and getting no response +had gone downstairs to look for Kathleen, only to be told that she was +in her own room. + +"Come in, Julie, and turn on the electric switch," directed Kathleen, and +blinked as the room was suddenly flooded with light. Without rising she +removed her hat-pins and handed her hat and coat to the maid. "Just the +blue foulard tonight. What have you there?" + +"Some flowers, mademoiselle," handing the box to Kathleen. "Captain +Miller left them at the door himself, and seeing me in the hall asked +that I give them to you at once." With a Frenchwoman's tact she busied +herself in getting out the blue foulard and pretended not to see the +blush and smile which accompanied Kathleen's opening of the box. She did +not speak again, helping Kathleen with deft fingers to finish her toilet, +and then stood back to contemplate the effect. "Will mademoiselle attend +the meeting tonight?" she asked. + +"No, I am not a member of the Sisters in Unity. I had forgotten the club +was to meet here. Perhaps mother will need you now. Don't wait." + +But the Frenchwoman lingered. "Mademoiselle," she began. "Mademoiselle." + +"Yes, Julie." + +"_Pardon_". Turning abruptly, Julie opened the door and glanced up and +down the hall, then gently closed and locked it. With equal quietness she +bolted the sitting-room door. Watching her with growing curiosity +Kathleen saw that her comely face was white and drawn. + +"Listen, mademoiselle." The Frenchwoman was careful to keep her voice +low-pitched. "I dare to speak tonight--for France." + +"For France!" echoed Kathleen. + +"France." Julie's tone caressed the word. "My country needs your father's +invention--Ah, mademoiselle, do not let him sell it to another." + +"He will offer it first to our own Government." + +"Will he, mademoiselle? Ah, do not be offended," catching Kathleen's +swift change of expression. "I dare speak as I do--for France; think me +not disrespectful--but others wait to tempt your father." + +"Nonsense!" + +"I know what I know, mademoiselle. It has gotten abroad that Mr. Whitney +has completed his invention, that tests prove it successful--and, +mademoiselle, this house is watched." + +Kathleen looked at Julie incredulously. Had the maid taken leave of her +senses? Between nervousness and anxiety the Frenchwoman was trembling +from head to foot. + +"Warn your father, mademoiselle; he will listen to you." + +"I will," with reassuring vigor. "Tell me, Julie, what has aroused your +suspicion?" + +"Many things. When it creeps out that M. Whitney has succeeded, I say to +myself--the Germans, they will be interested. And I wait. Then madame +engages Henry...." + +"Henry? The chauffeur?" + +"But yes. I do not like Henry, mademoiselle. He is too much in the +house for a chauffeur; I meet him on the stairs, always on his way to +the attic with some message to M. Whitney who works in his studio +there. He laughs and teases me, that Henry, but wait!" Julie's eyes +were blazing. "And that Monsieur Spencer; I trust him not also. Ah, +mademoiselle, do not let him be closeted with your father--he is the +younger and stronger man." + +"Julie, are you quite mad?" exclaimed Kathleen, her eyes twice their +usual size. + +"No, mademoiselle. I watch; yes, always I watch and listen. Your father +did well to have iron shutters on the windows and new bolts on the door, +but he knows not that I am within call--on the other side of the door." + +"Upon my word!" Kathleen's brain was in a whirl. Was Julie's mind +unbalanced? She knew that the Frenchwoman's fiance and two brothers had +been killed early in the war. Had grief for them and anxiety for her +beloved country developed hallucinations? One thing was apparent--it +would never do to disagree with her in her overwrought condition. +Kathleen laid her arm protectingly about her shoulders and gave her a +squeeze. She was very fond of the warm-hearted Frenchwoman. + +"Do not worry, Julie. I will see that father takes every precaution to +safeguard his invention." She hesitated. "I, too, sympathize deeply with +France." "God bless thee, mademoiselle." With a movement full of grace +Julie raised Kathleen's hand to her lips, then glided from the room, her +slippers making no noise on the thick carpet. + +Left alone Kathleen picked up her box of flowers and walked thoughtfully +into her sitting-room. Her interview with Julie had depressed her. As she +passed her desk she saw a note addressed to her lying on it, but +recognizing Sinclair Spencer's handwriting she tossed it down again +unopened. It would keep to read later. She walked over to the pier glass +and began to adjust the flowers which Miller had sent her. More +interested in his note which accompanied his gift, she had at first taken +them for violets, but looking more closely at the corsage bouquet she +found it contained cornflowers. Again she read his note: + +"MY DARLING: + +"I send you the harbinger of spring, of hope, of happiness. Ever fondly +your lover, + +"CHARLES." + +Back to Kathleen's memory came a vision of waving wheat in a field on the +outskirts of Berlin and scattered among the grain grew the +cornflower--_Kaiser blumen_. She raised her hand to her hot cheeks. How +came Miller to send her flowers which he knew were connected with that +past he so ardently wished forgotten? + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +THE SPIDER AND THE FLY + + +Whitney scanned the long drawing-room and library beyond in comic +despair. The furniture of both rooms, which opened out of each other, +had been carried into another part of the house, and in its place were +rows on rows of gilt chairs, while in the bow window stood an +improvised platform. + +"Can I get you a seat, sir?" asked Vincent, placing a pitcher of ice +water and tumblers on the speaker's table. + +"No, thanks; my days as parliamentarian are over, thank the Lord. I have +learned, Vincent, that when the Sisters in Unity hold an election it's +safer to be on the other side of the bolted door." + +"Yes, sir." Vincent removed a cherished Sevres vase from its customary +abiding place on the mantel and tucked it carefully under his arm. "Miss +Kathleen is looking for you, sir. I think I hear her in the hall now, +sir," and he hastened into the library as Kathleen stepped into the +drawing-room. + +"Where have you been since dinner, Dad? I went from the top of the house +to the bottom looking for you." + +"Had to go over to the drugstore to get a prescription filled. Can I do +anything for you?" + +"Yes. Come and spend the evening with me," she coaxed. + +Whitney laughed. "Can't, my dear. I have important work ahead of +me tonight." + +"It must wait until tomorrow," coaxingly, stroking his cheek softly. "I +don't like these lines, Dad. Your health is more to be considered than +your work." + +Whitney's air of tolerance turned to one of determination. "You are +wrong; my work is of primary importance. It's only a matter of hours now, +Kathleen; then I can loaf for the rest of my days." + +She shook her head. "Unless you take rest you cannot stand the strain. +Mother tells me you worked all last night and far into the morning." + +"My brain is clearer at night, and I have always required very little +sleep." He frowned with growing impatience. "There is no use discussing +the subject." He spoke in a tone which forbade further argument. + +"Dad," Kathleen lowered her voice and moved closer to him, "has it +occurred to you that--that people are unduly curious about your +invention?" + +Whitney eyed her keenly. "It has," he admitted tersely, "and I have taken +precautions." He stared at the clock and frowned impatiently. "Nearly +eight--the meeting will commence soon; let's get out of here." + +"Wait, Dad," Kathleen laid a restraining hand on his shoulder. "I cannot +bear to think of you alone in the attic--so far away from--" + +"Sisters in Unity--the very best of reasons for going to the attic--" + +"Let me come with you," eagerly. "I'll bring my own work and not say a +word to you. I'm nervous, Daddy, I--I don't want to be by myself +tonight--and there's something I want to--to--" her voice broke. + +Whitney glanced at Kathleen in surprise. What had come over her? + +"Oh, come along," he agreed roughly. "Only remember, I won't be tormented +with small talk." + +Kathleen's eyes brightened with relief as she accompanied him into the +hall. As they appeared the elevator door opened and Mrs. Whitney stepped +out into the hall. + +"Why, I thought you were lying down, Kathleen; you said that you were +too tired to come in later to our club meeting and hear Senator Foster's +address on 'Peace,'" she exclaimed, and not waiting for an answer, turned +to Whitney. "Can you spare me a moment, Winslow? I wish your advice," and +with a quick tilt of her head she indicated the small reception room on +the left of the front door. "Come in here." + +"Certainly, Minna. Don't wait for me, Kathleen," but the girl paused +irresolutely. + +"Shall I go to the studio?" she asked. + +"No, you cannot get in; the door is locked. Go to your sitting-room and +I'll stop for you on the way to the studio." + +"Honest Injun, Dad?" And her father, nodding vigorous assent, watched her +go up the stairs, then with a brisk step entered the reception room. + +"How charming you look, Minna!" he exclaimed, in honest admiration. + +"You think so?" and Mrs. Whitney dimpled with pleasure. "I do want to win +the election tonight--and clothes count for so much in woman's politics." + +"I back you to win against all comers," and Whitney gave her shapely +shoulder a loving pat as he stooped to kiss her. "What is the matter with +Kathleen tonight? Her behavior troubles me." + +His wife laughed softly. "She is suffering from an old complaint--she +is in love." + +"What!" Whitney stared at her in blank astonishment. "With whom?" and +sudden, sharp anxiety lay behind the abrupt question. + +"I suspect--Captain Miller." + +"Miller? That silent--" Whitney checked his impetuous words. "Miller? +Good Lord!" + +"What can you tell me about Captain Miller?" Her feminine curiosity was +instantly aroused at his quick change of expression. + +"Just what I have seen of him and nothing more. He never talks of +himself." + +"Such a relief," sighed Mrs. Whitney. "There is Randall Foster--talks +always of his own achievements. Wait until Kiametia Grey marries him. I +sometimes wonder...." + +"I can't see that we are directly concerned with that romance," broke in +Whitney with characteristic impatience. "What's your opinion of Miller?" + +"I rather like him; he's very agreeable, good-looking, and seems to have +plenty of money...." + +"Then you...." + +"Favor his suit? Yes," tranquilly. + +"But, heavens, Minna, you know nothing about Captain Miller's past." + +"You can inquire about it; in fact, I think it is your duty to do so. He +calls here entirely too frequently not to be asked his intentions." + +"What the--" Whitney reddened angrily and his voice rose. "A nice task +you put before me. I dis--" + +"Sh!" Rising hurriedly, Mrs. Whitney laid a warning hand on his +arm. "There's the bell, and this room is needed for the cloaks. +Where is Julie?" + +Paying no attention to her husband's apparent desire to say something +more, Mrs. Whitney stepped into the hall. Whitney stood in deep thought +for a brief moment, then hastened after her, but his hope to slip +upstairs unseen was frustrated. Miss Kiametia Grey, enveloped in a heavy +fur coat, promptly hailed him and as he stood chatting to her in the hall +the front door again opened and Henry, the chauffeur, who had been +requisitioned to assist Vincent, ushered in Sinclair Spencer. + +"Good evening, Mrs. Whitney," Spencer's loud cheery voice boomed through +the hall, and under cover of his jovial manner he scanned Whitney and his +wife. Had Kathleen spoken to them of his proposal of marriage that +morning and her refusal? "Just dropped in to see your husband, Mrs. +Whitney; hadn't hoped for the pleasure of seeing you. Hello, Whitney. +Evening, Miss Grey." But the spinster, with a stiff bow, slipped past the +lawyer and into the reception room without seeing his outstretched hand. +Spencer's florid complexion turned a deeper tint as he met Henry's blank +stare, but a covert glance at the Whitneys convinced him that they had +not seen Miss Kiametia's rudeness. + +"Do take Mr. Spencer upstairs, Winslow," suggested Mrs. Whitney, as the +chauffeur opened the door to admit more guests. "I have a meeting of my +club tonight, Mr. Spencer, and therefore..." + +"Certainly, certainly; please don't let my presence put you out," with a +courteous bow. "Come on, Whitney, let's go up to your studio," and he +followed his host into the elevator. + +Whitney stopped the car at the first bedroom floor. "We will be far +more comfortable in my wife's boudoir than in my studio," he said. "Go +ahead, Spencer, first door to your right. I'll stop in my bedroom and +get some cigars." + +Glancing curiously about the large attractive hall, Spencer entered the +daintily furnished boudoir, and was examining the many water colors and +photographs which hung on the walls, when Whitney came in carrying a +cigar box and a tray containing Scotch and vichy. + +"That's some of Kathleen's work," he explained, observing that the +lawyer had picked up a miniature of Mrs. Whitney. "She is clever with +her brush." + +"Very clever," agreed Spencer enthusiastically. "There is no one, +Whitney, whom I admire as I do your daughter," drawing a lounging +chair near the table on which his host put the tray. "Why does +Kathleen avoid me?" + +"Does she?" + +"She does," with bitter emphasis. "And it cuts--deep." + +"You are supersensitive," protested Whitney politely. "I do not for a +moment believe Kathleen would intentionally hurt your feelings." + +Spencer did not answer at once, and chafing inwardly at being kept from +his work in the studio, Whitney glared first at his guest and then at the +clock, but the hint was lost. + +Suddenly Spencer's right fist came down on the table with a resounding +whack. "Kathleen turned me down this morning." Whitney's eyes were +riveted on his guest but he said nothing, and Spencer continued +earnestly. "I want you to use your influence...." + +"No." The monosyllable was spoken quietly, but the gleam in Whitney's +eyes was a silent warning. "We will leave my daughter's name out of the +discussion. Was there anything else you wished to see me about? If +not...." and he half rose. + +Instead of answering Spencer lolled back in his chair and, taking his +time, lighted a cigar. + +"Your note for twenty thousand dollars is due in ten days," he announced. +"Are you prepared to take it up?" + +There was a protracted pause before Whitney spoke. "Are you willing +to let me curtail your note with a payment of five thousand +dollars?" he asked. + +"No." + +Whitney's hand closed spasmodically over the bottle of whiskey, and he +was livid with anger as he glared at the younger man. Spencer's good +looks were marred by signs of recent dissipation, and the coarse lines +about his thin lips destroyed the air of refinement given him by his +well-cut clothes. Whitney cast a despairing look about the room, at the +pretty knick-knacks, pictures, and handsome furniture--all indicated a +cultivated woman's taste. How his wife loved her belongings! + +With the curtailing of his income through the shrinking and non-payment +of dividends, he had drawn upon his principal and--keeping up +appearances was an expensive game. Every piece of property that he owned +was heavily mortgaged, and every bit of collateral was already deposited +to cover notes at his bank. Slowly Whitney's fingers loosened their grip +upon the bottle of whiskey. + +"Well," and his voice cut the stillness like a whiplash. "What is your +pound of flesh?" + +Spencer knocked the ash from the end of his cigar into the tray with care +that none should fall upon the polished mahogany table top. + +"Kathleen might reconsider--eh?" suggestively. "And--eh--there is your +invention--_your latest invention_." + +It was approaching midnight when Whitney stepped alone into the hall. The +hum of voices rose from the room below; evidently Vincent had neglected +to close the drawing-room doors, or else the Sisters in Unity needed air. +Listening intently, he judged from the direction of the voices that the +women had not gone into the dining-room. + +Whitney walked toward the elevator, paused, then continued down the hall +and without rapping entered Kathleen's sitting-room. But he stopped on +the threshold on beholding Kathleen sitting before her desk with her head +resting upon its flat top, sound asleep. By her side lay paint box and +brushes and a half-completed miniature of Captain Miller. Without +disturbing her, Whitney crept softly from the room. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +SISTERS IN UNITY + + +It was a very much flurried Vincent who admitted Senator Randall Foster, +and helped him off with his overcoat. + +"They're still argufying," he said, indicating the closed drawing-room +doors with a jerk of his thumb. "I'll get word to Mrs. Whitney, sir, that +you have come." + +"No, no, don't interrupt the meeting," hastily interposed the Senator. "I +may be a few minutes early. Can I see Mr. Whitney?" + +"Yes, sir, certainly, sir. Come this way," and Vincent moved toward the +elevator shaft. "I don't believe Mr. Whitney has gone to his studio, yet, +sir; he never takes anyone there, and I haven't seen Mr. Spencer leave." + +"Mr. Spencer?" Foster drew back. "Is he with Mr. Whitney?" + +"Yes, sir, so Henry told me." + +"After all, I don't believe I'll disturb Mr. Whitney, Vincent. Is there +some place I can wait downstairs?" + +"Yes, sir, the reception room." The butler led the way to it "I'm afraid, +sir, you'll find it very uncomfortable in here, sir," looking at the +racks of coats and cloaks, "but"--brightening--"here's a copy of the +evening paper; Mr. Whitney must have left it; and this chair, sir--" + +"Yes, yes, Vincent, thank you, I'll be all right." Foster took possession +of the solitary uncovered chair. "This is an excellent opportunity of +reading over my speech. Be sure and let me know, Vincent, the instant I +am wanted in the drawing-room." + +"Surely, sir. I'll tell Mrs. Whitney that you are here, sir," and +Vincent retired. + +Inside the closed drawing-room and library the atmosphere was surcharged +with electricity. Miss Kiametia Grey, who had locked horns with her +opponents on numerous subjects, sat back, flushed and victorious; she was +beginning to feel the fatigue incident to having borne the brunt of the +discussion, and was secretly longing to have the meeting adjourn to the +dining-room where she suspected Mrs. Whitney had provided a bountiful +supper. She felt the need of refreshments, if only a Roman punch. + +Mrs. Whitney was also feeling the strain. She had designated a sister +official to occupy the chair when the nominating speeches were in order, +and was awaiting the announcement of the result of the ballot with inward +trepidation. Her composed manner and smiling face won Miss Kiametia's +admiration; she was herself of too excitable a temperament to keep her +equanimity unimpaired, and she watched Mrs. Whitney's calm demeanor and +unruffled poise, conscious of her own disheveled appearance. She missed +Kathleen; the latter's presence had become an almost virtual necessity to +the spinster. Despite the disparity in ages, their tastes were similar, +and both had a keen sense of humor. It had added zest to the spinster's +enjoyment of the season's gayeties to have Kathleen with her, and she had +watched the girl's gradual absorption in Captain Miller with lynx eyes. +The obliteration of Sinclair Spencer as a possible suitor had filled her +with delight. But she had seen Spencer in the house that very night. What +did that mean? What was he there for? Surely, Kathleen had not.... + +A stir in the back of the room recalled Miss Kiametia's wandering +thoughts, and she leaned eagerly forward to hear the report of the +chairman of the tellers. Mrs. Whitney was elected and Miss Kiametia had +also carried the day. Round after round of hearty applause greeted the +announcement, and as it died out the two successful candidates for first +and second place in the organization stepped to the platform. But after +expressing her thanks, Miss Kiametia again resumed her seat among the +members, while Mrs. Whitney took up the duties of presiding officer. + +As the regular business of the meeting drew to a close one of the members +rose, and on being recognized announced that she had a resolution to +offer, and read in a high singsong voice: + +"Be it resolved that this organization of Sisters in Unity indorse the +peace movement, and that it use its wide influence to check the tendency +toward militarism which injudicious and misguided Americans hope to foist +upon the American public." + +Applause greeted the speaker, and a gray-haired woman across the room +demanded recognition from the chair. + +"I would like to say a few words in favor of that resolution," she began, +finally catching Mrs. Whitney's attention. "Our wars with England, our +mother country, were but as the wrangle of relatives. The leaders in the +warring nations in Europe today are all related. Let us keep clear of all +international entanglements. Let us have peace. Through peace this +country has achieved greatness. Peace and prosperity go hand in hand. +Peace uplifts; war retards. Militarism is a throw-back to feudal days. On +its lighter side, militarism is an appeal for gold lace and brass +buttons. A man puts on our uniform because it is a thing of show, in +other words, conspicuous ..." + +"Madam chairman!" Her face flaming, an irate woman arose. "No, I don't +care whether I'm in order or not; I will be heard--Mrs. Lutz is quite +right, the United States uniform _is_ conspicuous, and has been +conspicuous on many a bloody battlefield since 1776. The uniform is +honored alike in court and camp in every nation of the world." + +As she sat down pandemonium reigned. Instantly Miss Kiametia was on her +feet, and her strident call, "Madam chairman, madam chairman," rose +repeatedly above the hubbub. Mrs. Whitney pounded for order and gave the +spinster the floor. + +"I rise to a question of information," explained Miss Kiametia, in tones +which echoed through the rooms. "Is this an indignation meeting or an +assemblage of Sisters in Unity?" she demanded, and sat down. In the +comparative quiet that ensued, the peace resolution was seconded and +passed by a small majority. + +Mrs. Whitney stepped to the edge of the platform. "Senator Randall +Foster has very kindly consented to address us tonight," she said. "So +distinguished a lawmaker needs no introduction to this organization. Mr. +Senator," as Foster entered through the door held open for him by +Vincent, "we invite you to the platform." + +Bowing his thanks, Foster joined Mrs. Whitney and immediately began one +of those adroit, well-worded addresses which had made him a marked man +in the Senate. "I come to you a special pleader," he continued, with +growing earnestness, "to spread the gospel of peace. It is your +privilege to weld public opinion, and opinion can be as a yoke upon a +man's neck. In this free America opinion governs. Jingoes would try to +plunge us into war. When a boy is given an airgun, his first impulse is +to go out and shoot it off. Arm the men of this country and their +impulse will be the same. A small standing army does not tend to +militarism; its size does not lend itself to the issuing of imperative +mandates; and mandates, ladies, lead to war. + +"It is especially a woman's duty to demand peace. In war, upon the woman +falls the suffering and the sacrifice. The lover, the brother, the +father, the son may find honorable death upon the field, but at home the +woman pays. God pity the woman left desolate and alone, her loved ones +sacrificed on the altar of militarism! + +"And mothers? What of your children and the fate of yet unborn +generations? Are they brought into the world to be tools of militarism? +Lift up your voice for peace; carry the message, 'Peace on earth' to the +very portals of Congress. Make any and every sacrifice, but guard your +man child." + +As Foster stopped speaking enthusiastic applause broke out, and a rising +vote of thanks was given him. As the gratified Senator stepped down from +the platform he found himself by Miss Kiametia's side. + +"I did it to please you, Kiametia," he whispered, holding her hand +tightly. "Have I earned one kind word?" + +Miss Kiametia favored him with a quick expressive look and a faint blush. + +"You are a staunch friend," she said warmly, and Foster brightened. +"Only--only why did you lay such stress on the 'man child'? Nearly all +are spinsters in this peace organization." + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +A MAN IN A HURRY + + +Heavy clouds hung low and not a star was visible. The darkness was +intensified by the gleam of distant city lights, for in that section of +Washington lying to the southwest of Pennsylvania Avenue a defective fuse +had caused the dimming of every electric light in the vicinity. Far up on +one of the roofs a man, crouching behind the meager shelter offered by a +chimney, blessed the chance which fortune provided. + +Crawling on hands and knees, he cautiously made his way to the edges of +the roof, on which he had dropped from the higher building next door, and +looked down. His eyes straining in the darkness, every sense alert to +danger, he scanned intently each window ledge and cornice. No hope there. +Not even a lead pipe or telephone wires afforded a hold for desperate, +gripping fingers. Unlike the building adjoining on the south, the new +house had no party wall, and a gulf too wide to jump separated it from +its northern neighbor. The sheer drop to the garden beneath was suicidal. + +The man lay for a few seconds striving to collect himself. He could not +return the way he had come. He would be caught like a rat in the trap +with the arrival of dawn, if not before. Perhaps his pursuers were on his +trail already. The thought spurred his numbed body to action, and lifting +his head he glanced along the flat roof. Toward the center of it rose a +box-like structure with apparently an arched skylight above it. A little +distance away from the structure, he distinguished the outlines of what +appeared to be a scuttle. Warily he approached it, and using every +precaution to make the least possible sound, he attempted to raise the +scuttle. A long sigh of relief escaped him as he succeeded. The scuttle +was not locked. + +He paused long enough to glance keenly about him. There was no sign of +another human being, but a sound smote his ear. Someone was moving on the +pebbled roof of the building he had just left. Without an instant's delay +he groped about until his feet touched the rung of a ladder, and drawing +to the scuttle behind him, he made his way down the ladder. + +On reaching the bottom he paused in indecision. He could make out nothing +in the inky blackness, and with every sense alive to danger, he waited. +But apparently his entrance had disturbed no one, and taking heart of +grace, he pulled out a tiny flashlight and pressed the button. + +The light revealed a large attic partly filled with trunks and worn +furniture. A large wine closet, the bottles shining as the light fell on +them through the slat partition, occupied one part of the attic, while a +wall partition, with closed door, ran across the entire western side. To +his right, the man made out the head of a narrow staircase. He was making +his way to the staircase when his acute hearing caught the sound of a +softly closing door on the floor below and approaching footsteps. + +Casting a hunted look about him, he spied a closed closet door. He doused +his light while making his way to the closet, and jerked open the door, +at the same time throwing out his right hand, the better to judge the +depth of the dark closet. His groping fingers closed on cold steel. His +heart lost a throb, then raced madly on, as he clung weakly to the metal. +An elevator shaft, and he had mistaken it for prison bars! + +For a second his chilled body was shaken with hysterical desire for +laughter; then his strong will conquered. He had not forgotten the +advancing footsteps. A desperate situation required desperate chances. +Stepping back he closed the outer door of the elevator shaft and pressed +the button for the elevator. Which would reach him first--the person +creeping upstairs or the automatic electric elevator? + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +A SINISTER DISCOVERY + + +Mrs. Whitney sat up in bed and contemplated her husband reproachfully as +he entered her room. + +"Have you been working all night?" she inquired. + +Whitney nodded absently as he stooped to kiss her. "Now, don't worry, +dear; work will not injure me. I've just had a cold shower and feel ten +per cent better, and all ready for my breakfast. You are the one who +looks tired; that's a very becoming cap you are wearing, but you need +more color here," pinching her cheek. "I don't like to see you so pale. +Were the Sisters in Unity as strenuous as ever?" + +"Just about--but, Oh, Winslow, I was elected...." + +"That was a foregone conclusion, you modest child." Again Whitney kissed +her. "Congratulations, my darling, though why you should want it...." + +Mrs. Whitney laughed good-naturedly. "I'm too happy today to argue the +question," she broke in. + +"Kiametia Grey frightened us all last night by fainting ..." + +"Fainting! Kiametia? I thought she was as tough as a horse?" + +"So she is usually, but she has been doing too much socially, and late +hours do not agree with a woman of her years." + +"She isn't so old," protested Whitney. + +"She is older than I, and I'm not so young," Mrs. Whitney, whose years +sat lightly upon her, jerked a dainty dressing-gown about her shoulders. +"Kiametia did faint and when she came to, declared it was the overheated +atmosphere of the rooms and the continuous talking which had upset her." + +"Well, you must admit, Minna, the Sisters are famous for noisy +discussions. Kiametia is generally able to hold up her end of an +argument. I am sorry she had to give in to superior numbers," Whitney +laughed. "You'll never convince me that she fainted." + +"She did, too; and felt so badly that I persuaded her not to go home, but +to spend the remainder of the night in our blue bedroom." + +"Good heavens!" Whitney gazed blankly at his wife. "Did she--did ..." + +"No, she did not stay there," pausing dramatically. "She found Sinclair +Spencer sound asleep in the bed." She waited expectantly for her +husband's comment, but getting no reply, she burst out, "What was he +doing there--how came he to be there?" + +"I was foolish enough to offer him whiskey." Her husband seated himself +carefully on the edge of the bed, "Spencer had been drinking before he +came to see me, and a very little more made him tipsy. I was fearful that +if I took him downstairs he would try and break up your meeting, so +persuaded him to go and lie down on the bed in the blue room." + +"Sometimes, Winslow, for a thoughtful man, you ball things up +dreadfully," sighed Mrs. Whitney. "Why did you select that room? You +always put your friends in the hall bedroom." + +"Never gave the matter of the rooms a thought." Whitney moved restlessly; +he hated to see a woman cry, and his wife looked perilously upon the +point of tears. In spite of his assertion that he did not miss the loss +of sleep, his nerves were not under full control. Ordinarily not a +drinking man, he had stopped on his way from his bedroom to help himself +to the small amount of Scotch left in the bottle. + +"Such a scene as I had with Kiametia," groaned Mrs. Whitney sighing +dismally at the recollection. "Finally, I convinced her that I knew +nothing of Mr. Spencer's presence, and she consented to sleep in the +hall bedroom." + +"I'm glad Kiametia discovered Spencer in time." His chuckle developing +into a laugh, Whitney rose and walked to the door. "It's no crying +matter, my dear. Kiametia will be the first to enjoy the joke." + +"If it had been anyone but Sinclair Spencer!" Mrs. Whitney shook her head +forlornly. "She has developed an intense dislike for him." + +"And Kiametia is usually a woman of discernment." His sarcasm passed +unheeded, and he opened the hall door. "Hurry and dress, Minna, I'll wait +for you in the dining-room. Heavens! What's that?" + +A muffled cry, long drawn out, agonizing, vibrated through the stillness. + +Spellbound, husband and wife eyed each other, then Whitney stepped into +the hall just as Miss Kiametia tore out of her bedroom. + +"What is it?" she demanded. "Oh, stop it, stop it!" clapping her hands +over her ears as the cry rose again. + +"It comes from the elevator shaft, sir," panted Vincent, appearing up the +stairs, Henry, the chauffeur, close at his heels. Without moving, Whitney +stared stupidly at the two servants, and it was Henry who laid a +trembling finger on the elevator button. As they heard the automatic car +come to a standstill on the other side of the closed mahogany door there +was a second's pause; then Miss Kiametia, summoning all her fortitude, +laid her hand on the door knob and pulled it open. A horrified +exclamation escaped her as her eyes fell upon Kathleen, whose bloodless +face was pressed against the iron grating of the inner door, to which she +was clinging for support. + +"Let me out," she pleaded, her eyes dark with horror. "Let me out." + +At sight of his daughter Whitney recovered himself. "Stand back, +Kathleen," he directed. "Then we can slide open the door." He had to +repeat his words twice before she took in their meaning. Releasing her +hold upon the grating, she covered her face as if to shut out some +terrifying spectacle. As Henry pushed back the door, she collapsed into +her father's arms. + +"Bring Kathleen in here," called Mrs. Whitney from her doorway, where she +had stood, too frightened to move. "There are smelling salts on my +bureau. What can have brought on this attack of hysterics, Kiametia?" + +"The Lord knows. Perhaps the machinery's out of order and she's been +stuck between floors." The spinster, suddenly remembering her extremely +light attire, backed toward her room. + +Whitney, reentering the hall, caught her words. "Go to Kathleen, Minna; +she asked for you," and as his wife turned back into her bedroom, he +added, "See if there is anything wrong with the elevator, Henry." + +Obediently the chauffeur stepped through the narrow entrance to the +elevator and into the steel cage. The next instant he turned an ashy face +toward his companions. + +"Look!" he gasped. "Look!" And his shaking hand pointed to that part of +the elevator concealed by the solid wall of the shaft from the view of +those standing in the hall. With one accord they crowded into the +elevator, and a stricken silence prevailed. + +Crouching on the floor at the far end of the shallow cage was Sinclair +Spencer. The rays of the overhead electric lamp, by which the cage was +lighted, showed plainly the gash in his throat, while crimson stains on +his white shirt added to the ghastly tableau. Death was stamped upon the +marble whiteness of his upturned face. + +"Good God!" Whitney reeled back and but for Vincent's arm would +have fallen. + +"Here, sir, sit here, sir," and the butler half lifted him to a chair in +the hall. "Go get whiskey, Henry," noting the pallor of Whitney's face. +"Quick, man!" + +"Telephone for a doctor, Vincent," directed Miss Kiametia, pulling +herself together. She had been the first to bolt out of the elevator. "I +will stay with Mr. Whitney until you get back," and flashing her a +grateful look, the butler, relieved to have responsibility taken from his +shoulders, fled downstairs after Henry. + +Miss Kiametia laid trembling hands on Whitney's bowed shoulders. + +"It's awful, Winslow," she stammered. "Awful!" + +As he paid no attention to her, but stared vacantly at the floor before +him, she paced to and fro, always careful, however, never to go in the +direction of the elevator. The exercise brought back some semblance of +self-control, and her eyes were beginning to take on their wonted snap +when Whitney rose unsteadily and stepped toward the elevator. Miss +Kiametia's voice stopped him on its threshold. + +"I wouldn't go in there again," she advised. "Wait until the +coroner comes." + +"The coroner?" staring stupidly at her. + +"Yes, hadn't you better send for him?" + +Whitney's hands dropped to his side with a hopeless gesture. "The +coroner," he muttered. "God help us!" + +"Winslow!" Mrs. Whitney appeared in the doorway, tears streaming down +her white cheeks. "Kathleen is completely unnerved; come and help me +quiet her." + +At that moment Henry arrived, tray in hand. "I couldn't find the whiskey, +sir," he explained, breathless with hurry. "But here's some cognac, sir. +Let me pour it out," and he handed a filled liqueur glass to Whitney, who +swallowed the stimulant at a gulp. + +"Shouldn't mind having some of that myself," announced Miss Kiametia. +"Bring the tray here, Henry," walking over to a table. "And, Winslow, +take a glass to Kathleen; it will do her good. Henry, did Vincent +telephone for the doctor?" she added below her breath, as Whitney and his +wife disappeared in the latter's bedroom and closed the door. + +"Yes, Miss Grey, but he was out. So Vincent rang up the hospital and +the coroner." + +"Good." Miss Kiametia debated a moment whether or not to take more +cognac, and ended by refilling her glass. "Stay right in this hall, +Henry; don't leave it for a moment until the doctor comes. I'm going in +to dress." + +As the door closed behind the spinster, Henry stood in deep thought, then +pouring out a glass of cognac he hastily drank it. Setting down the +glass, he tiptoed over to the elevator, but one look at the still figure +crouching with head thrown back and sightless eyes turned to the ceiling +sent him back into the center of the hall. Drawing out his handkerchief, +he mopped his damp forehead. + +From Mrs. Whitney's bedroom came the murmur of voices, and Henry, +darting a quick, searching look about the empty hall, slipped over to +the door and applied his ear to the keyhole. The sound of approaching +footsteps and voices warned him of the arrival of the physician, and +when Vincent appeared, followed by two men, he was standing on guard +near the elevator shaft. + +A quick word of explanation sufficed, and then the younger of the +newcomers entered the elevator. He recoiled at sight of Spencer, then +advancing tested the dead man's pulse and heart. + +"This is a case for you, Penfield," he exclaimed backing out into the +hall, and without a word the coroner took his place beside Spencer. The +young physician turned to Vincent. "Didn't you tell me that someone was +ill and required medical assistance? Mr. Spencer is dead; I can do +nothing for him." + +Without answering, Vincent tapped on Mrs. Whitney's door, and Whitney's +voice bade him enter. "Dr. Hall, sir," announced the butler. "Want him to +come in, sir?--Yes, sir; this way, Doctor," and he pulled to the door +after the physician. The elevator drew Vincent's eyes as a magnet draws +steel, and he started violently at sight of the coroner beckoning to him +from its entrance. + +"Call up Police Headquarters," directed Penfield. "Tell them I am here, +and ask to have Detective Mitchell and three plain-clothes men sent over +at once. Be quick about it," and his peremptory tone caused the agitated +butler to hasten his usually leisurely gait. Henry started to follow him, +but the coroner called him back. "Explain to me exactly what happened +when Mr. Spencer was found," he said, stepping into the hall. + +The tale lost nothing in Henry's telling, and Penfield was gnawing his +fingernails, a trick he had if perplexed, when Vincent escorted the +detective and plain-clothes policemen into the hall. The coroner rose +with alacrity. + +"Glad you could come, Mitchell," he said. "Let me put you in possession +of all facts so far known," and he repeated all that Henry had told him. +Mitchell listened in silence; only the gleam in his eyes attested his +interest, as his face remained expressionless. And that gleam deepened as +he stepped into the elevator and examined Spencer. When he came out he +was wrapping his handkerchief around a knife. Exchanging a glance with +the coroner, he turned to Vincent. + +"Show my men over the house," he directed, "and you," addressing +Henry, "inform Mr. Whitney that Coroner Penfield and I would like to +see him at once." + +"I am here." Whitney, who had entered the hall unnoticed a second before, +joined the group. "What can I do for you?" + +"Answer a few questions," and Penfield, observing the strain under which +he was laboring, pushed a chair in his direction. "Sit down, Mr. +Whitney." He turned back to Henry. "You need not wait," and the chauffeur +reluctantly went down the stairs. The coroner waited an appreciable +moment before again speaking to Whitney. "Was Mr. Spencer visiting you?" +he questioned. + +"Only for the night." + +"When did you see him last?" + +"About midnight." + +"And where was that?" + +"In the bedroom across the way," pointing to it, and the detective +crossed the hall and entered the room, the door of which was closed. + +"And what was Mr. Spencer doing the last time you saw him?" asked the +coroner, with quiet persistence. + +"Falling asleep," tersely. "Spencer was drunk," added Whitney after a +pause. "His behavior led me to believe that he would intrude upon my +wife's guests if he went downstairs, so I suggested that he spend the +night here." Whitney drew a long breath, "Is Spencer really dead?" + +"Yes." + +Whitney shrank back in his chair; he had aged in the past hour, and he +was conscious that his hands were trembling. "I feared so," he muttered, +"I feared so. Can"--clearing his throat--"can Spencer be moved?" + +"Not just yet; there are certain formalities to be gone through with +first." Penfield paused to make an entry in his notebook. "Of course, +there will be an autopsy--at the morgue. Oh, Mitchell," as the detective +returned, "have you any questions to ask Mr. Whitney?" + +Before answering the detective drew up a chair near Whitney. "I am +told your daughter's screams aroused the household," he said. "Can I +see Miss Whitney?" + +"No, you must wait until she is composed; the doctor is just +administering an opiate," replied Whitney hastily. "Kathleen has been +through a most harrowing experience." + +"I see." Mitchell drummed impatiently on the arm of his chair. Whitney +eyed the two men askance. Their manner, combined with the events of the +morning, was telling on him. At any price he must break the silence--he +could endure it no longer. + +"I wish to God," he exclaimed, "Spencer had chosen any other spot to kill +himself in than our elevator!" + +The coroner was the first to reply. "The wound was not self-inflicted." + +"What!" Whitney sprang to his feet. "Do you mean--Spencer was murdered?" + +"Yes." Both men never moved their gaze from Whitney's ashen face. "Were +all members of your family on good terms with Mr. Spencer?" + +"They were," Whitney moistened his parched lips, and only the detective +caught his furtive glance behind him. + +"Did anyone beside your immediate family spend last night in this house, +Mr. Whitney?" he asked. + +"No--yes," confusedly. "Miss Kiametia Grey...." + +"Winslow"--Mrs. Whitney, fully dressed, stepped into the hall from her +boudoir. "Pardon me," with a courteous inclination of her head as the +coroner and Mitchell rose. "Winslow, I've asked the servants, and they +tell me she has disappeared...." + +"She? Who?" chorused the three men. + +"Julie, my French maid." + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +HIDE AND SEEK + + +Charles Miller was generally an early riser, but the head waiter at the +Metropole was surreptitiously scanning his watch before giving the signal +to close the dining-room doors, when the Captain walked in and took his +accustomed seat at a distant table. Miller had but time to glance at the +headline, "Stormy Cabinet Meeting Predicted at White House Today," in his +morning newspaper, when eggs and toast were placed before him. His +attentive waiter poured the hot coffee and placed cream and sugar in his +cup without waiting for instructions. + +"Eggs all right, sir?" he asked anxiously, a trace of accent in his +pleasant voice. + +"Yes, thanks." Miller looked at him casually. "I haven't seen you before; +where's Jenkins?" + +"Transferred to the cafe, sir," smoothing a wrinkle out of the tablecloth +as he spoke. "I'll try to give satisfaction, sir." + +Miller nodded absently. "Oh, it's all right," he said, stifling a yawn, +and propping his newspaper against his coffee pot, ate his breakfast +leisurely, so leisurely that the other habitues of the hotel had finished +their breakfast and departed before he pushed back his chair. Turning, he +signed to his waiter to bring his check, and not appearing to do so, +watched his approach with keen interest. + +"Been a steward, haven't you?" he inquired. + +"Yes, sir." The waiter pocketed the tip with alacrity. "Hamburg-American +Line, sir." + +"Thought so." Miller signed his name with careful attention to each +stroke of the pencil. "How many of you are employed here?" + +"Eight, sir. The lines are tied up; we must have work, and it's hard to +get good berths, sir, with so many ships interned." + +"Quite so," Miller rose. "Your name--?" + +"Lewis. Just a moment, sir," as Miller started to cross the deserted +dining-room, "Shall I reserve the table for you for luncheon, sir?" + +"Luncheon?" Miller reflected. "I rather think not." + +"Thank you, sir." The waiter's manner was apologetic. "I asked, sir, +because, sir, today the Cabinet officers lunch here, and...." + +"They require your undivided attention?" mildly. "I quite +understand--Ludwig." Their eyes met, then Miller turned on his heel. +_"Auf wiedersehen"_ he exclaimed under his breath, and the waiter's +stolid expression changed to one of relief. + +Miller, who had checked his overcoat and hat before entering the +dining-room, wasted no time but entered a public telephone booth. When he +emerged he was whistling cheerily, and the doorkeeper watched him hail a +street car with curious eyes. + +"Always running in and out," he muttered. "It beats me when he sleeps." + +First stopping at a florist's and then a jeweler's establishment, Miller +bent his footsteps toward the Portland, and to his satisfaction found +Senator Foster enjoying a belated breakfast in his apartment. + +"I'm glad to discover a man keeping later hours than I" he remarked, +accepting the chair Foster pulled forward. "You must have an easy +conscience to sleep so late in the morning." + +"Or enjoyed the devil of a night--er--mare." The Senator's face was +flushed and his strong voice husky. "You mistake; this is luncheon, not +breakfast Keep me company? No?" Foster pecked viciously at his lamb chop. +"I've no appetite at all. Caught a beastly cold at the Sisters in Unity +meeting last night. Cough all the time--beastly climate, Washington." + +"Why stay here?" + +"Oh, Congress...." + +"But that adjourned three weeks ago." + +Foster frowned, then smiled. "A woman's whim--we are not always +independent, Miller"--a shrug completed the sentence. "Change your mind +and have some Scotch?" + +"No, thanks." Miller drew his chair closer to his companion, and lowered +his voice. "I called this morning, Senator, to ask some questions about +Winslow Whitney." + +Foster's smile vanished, and the glance he shot at Miller was sharp. + +"It depends on the questions," he began stiffly, "whether they are +answered or not." + +"Quite right," with unruffled composure. "I shall ask nothing which +cannot be answered with propriety." Miller ceased speaking to light a +cigarette. "All Washington knows Whitney is a man of wealth"--his keen +eyes detected the sudden alteration in Foster's expression--"of standing +in the social and business world, but has he achieved success as an +inventor?" + +"Yes," was the instant and unqualified response, and Miller's eyes +lighted, but it was some seconds before he put another question. + +"Are you familiar with his latest invention?" + +"You mean his camera for use in aeroplanes?" + +"Yes. Do you think it has any hope of success?" + +"I believe so; Whitney declares the experiments are entirely +satisfactory." + +"Have you seen results of the tests?" + +"Whitney showed me views of New York City and its environs taken from an +aeroplane. They were--wonderful--" the Senator puffed nervously at his +cigar--"perfect maps." + +"Indeed?" Miller made no effort to conceal his eager curiosity. "At what +height were they taken?" + +"Ah, that I do not feel at liberty to disclose. How, when, and where this +new camera can be utilized is of interest to all military men; but as +Whitney's friend, I could not divulge details he may desire kept secret, +even if I knew them." + +"Pardon me, I thought you his most intimate friend...." + +"I am, but not his confidant. And as his friend, I cannot discuss his +private affairs with you." + +"I don't agree with you there." Miller tossed his cigarette stub into the +iron grate. "Would it not be a friendly act to place Whitney in a +position to coin money?" + +"Ah, so that is why you take an interest in his invention?" Foster +laid down his cigar and contemplated his companion closely. "You wish +to buy ..." + +"Exactly." + +"Is the purchaser to be the same for whom you are collecting horses and +ammunition?" + +"Yes." + +Foster did not answer at once, and Miller, without seeming to do so, took +silent note of the handsome appointments of the dining-room. The silver +service on the sideboard, the cut-glass decanters and liqueurs seemed +somewhat out of place in a bachelor apartment. Somewhat puzzled, Miller +looked more fully at his host, hoping to find an answer to his unspoken +doubts. Careful of his dress, deportment, and democracy, Foster had early +gained the sobriquet "Dandy," but there was nothing effeminate in his +spare though muscular form, and his long under jaw indicated bull-dog +obstinacy. Confessing to fifty, Foster did not look his age by ten years. + +"I shall have to ponder your question, Miller." As he spoke Foster rose. +"Frankly, I've been striving to interest our Government in Whitney's +invention, and that is one of the things which has kept me in Washington. +Suppose we go and see Whitney now. I know that he is anxious to dispose +of his invention--he is hard pressed for money,'' + +"Indeed!" The pupils of Miller's eyes contracted suddenly. "Possibly +Whitney will give me a hearing, and I need not offer"--he stopped, +looked at his cigarette case, returned it to his pocket, and followed +Foster out of the room--"a large sum," he finished, helping the Senator +into his overcoat. + +Foster laughed shortly. "You will get no bargain. Whitney's politeness is +on the surface; underneath he is as hard as nails, and suspicious--" The +Senator's cough cut short his speech and echoed down the corridor as he +closed the door to his apartment. "Won't even let me look at the camera, +much less let me examine the lens, specifications, drawings, plate, et +cetera. In fact, refused to give me any details, although he knows I must +have the information so as to interest others in his invention." + +"But surely he has had the camera tested thoroughly?" + +"Oh, yes. It has leaked out that the lens is so powerful and the +mechanical parts of the camera so perfect that maps of the country taken +at a remarkable height depict fortifications to the minutest detail. No +one knows the method employed to bring about such a result. That is the +secret locked inside Whitney's studio and his brain. Whitney is a genius, +and unlike others of his ilk, is extremely modest about his own +achievements. He covers his real nature under a mantle of eccentricity. I +doubt if his wife and daughter really gauge his capabilities." A violent +fit of coughing interrupted him, and he did not speak again for some +minutes. As the elevator reached the ground floor, Foster saw his +chauffeur standing near the office. "My car at the door?" he asked, as +the man approached. + +"Yes, sir," touching his cap. "Will you drive, sir?" + +"Not today, too much cold, don't want pneumonia. Jump in, Miller." Foster +signed to him to enter first. "Take us to the Whitneys', Mason," he +directed, and sprang into the tonneau. + +Five minutes later they stopped in front of the Whitney house, and +directing his chauffeur to wait, Foster accompanied Miller up the steps, +but before either could touch the bell, the door was opened by Vincent +whose white face brightened at the sight of the Senator. + +"Step right in, sir," he begged. "The master was just telephoning for +you, sir." Vincent paused and looked doubtfully at Miller. "Did you wish +to see Miss Kathleen, sir?" + +"Yes," taking out his visiting card. + +"Miss Kathleen is sick in bed." Vincent appeared still more confused, but +Foster, standing somewhat in shadow, caught Miller's look of alarm which +the butler missed. + +"What is the matter with Miss Kathleen?" demanded Miller, and there was +no mistaking the feeling in his voice and manner. + +"She had a shock, sir, a most awful shock." While speaking Vincent +tiptoed toward the library; he felt that he could never make a loud noise +in that house again. "An awful shock," he repeated. "We all felt it." + +"What do you mean?" Foster laid an impatient hand on the old +servant's shoulder. + +"Why, sir, he's dead...." + +"Whitney?" The question sprang simultaneously from Foster and Miller. + +"No, no, sir. Mr. Sinclair Spencer, sir. He was murdered"--Vincent +shuddered as the last word crossed his lips. + +His hearers stared stupidly at each other, and then at the butler. "Who +murdered him?" asked Miller, the first to recover speech. + +"We don't know--they say Julie; leastways we only know for positive that +Miss Kathleen was with him ..." + +Miller turned first white then red, and an angry gleam lit his eye as he +stepped nearer the agitated servant. + +"That will do. Go tell Mr. Whitney we are here," and his tone caused +Vincent to hurry away in deep resentment. + +Foster gazed dazedly at Miller. "What can have happened?" he asked. "Was +Spencer so foolish as to bait Winslow ..." + +"Careful," cautioned Miller, his quick ear detecting a footstep in the +adjoining drawing-room. An instant later Miss Kiametia Grey stepped into +the library. + +"Thank goodness you have come," she exclaimed, darting toward Foster. +"I've wanted you so much ..." + +"My darling"--Foster, forgetful of Miller's presence, clasped her hand in +both of his. + +"There--there--this isn't any time for sentiment," and Miss Kiametia's +chilly tone recalled the Senator to the fact that they were not alone. +Looking a trifle foolish, he dropped her hand and stepped back. + +"What can I do for you?" he asked, coldly. "You said you needed me." + +"Well, so I do, as legal adviser," with unflattering emphasis. "Good +morning, Captain Miller; I did not recognize you at first. I suppose you +have both heard of Sinclair Spencer's tragic death." + +"Yes, but none of the particulars," answered Miller. "And also that +Kathleen is ill. Do tell me how she is," and though he strove to conceal +his anxiety, his manner betrayed his emotion to the sharp-eyed spinster. + +"The doctor gave her an opiate," she said quickly. "She will be herself +again when she awakes. Her condition does not worry me." She hesitated, +shot a quick furtive look at Miller's intent face, and added: "But I am +alarmed by the mystery surrounding Sinclair Spencer's death." + +"Tell us the details," urged Foster. + +"Details," echoed the spinster. "There are none. We were awakened this +morning by Kathleen's screams, rushed into the hall and found her in the +elevator with Sinclair Spencer's dead body. She appeared completely +unstrung, could make no coherent statement, and when the doctor came, was +given an opiate." She paused and looked hopelessly at the two men. "We +know no more of the murder than that." + +"We must wait until Kathleen awakens," said Whitney, and Miss Kiametia +started violently at the sound of his voice; so absorbed had the others +been in her remarks that his quiet entrance a few minutes before had +passed unnoticed. "I trust that she will then be more composed." + +"Did she say nothing to you and Minna when you were with her before the +doctor arrived?" questioned Miss Kiametia, smothering her eagerness with +difficulty. + +"Nothing that made sense." Whitney ran his fingers through his gray hair +until it stood upright. "She babbled Spencer's name, alternating with the +moaning cry, '_Kaiser blumen_.'" + +"'_Kaiser blumen_!' What in the world--" The spinster checked her hasty +speech on catching sight of Detective Mitchell loitering just inside the +library door. "Do you want to see Mr. Whitney?" she asked, raising her +voice a trifle, and all turned to face the detective as he advanced +toward them. Bowing gravely to Senator Foster and Captain Miller, +Mitchell stopped opposite the spinster, but his first remark was directed +to Whitney. + +"Your wife tells me, sir, that the French maid, Julie, has been in your +employ over four years." + +"She has," acknowledged Whitney, making no effort to conceal his +impatience. "Will you kindly postpone your questions, Mitchell, until +later; I desire to converse with my friends now." + +"I will intrude but a moment longer." Mitchell slipped one hand inside +his coat pocket. "When will it be convenient, sir, for you to take me +into your studio?" + +Whitney looked at the detective as if he did not believe his ears. + +"Why the devil should I take you through my studio?" he thundered, his +anger rising. "I take no one there--you understand, no one." + +"Pardon me, these are exceptional circumstances. As an officer of the law +it is my duty to examine the entire premises where a crime has been +committed. On reaching your attic, I found the door leading to your +studio locked, and I have come downstairs, sir, to ask you to take me +into that room." + +"And I absolutely refuse." + +"In that case, sir," there was a steely glint in Mitchell's eyes +which betokened trouble, "I shall send for a locksmith and have the +bolt forced." + +"Wait," Foster laid a restraining hand on Whitney's shoulder as the +latter made a hasty step in the detective's direction. "I assure you, +Mitchell, that the so-called studio is Mr. Whitney's workshop; he is, as +you no doubt know, an inventor." Whitney opened his mouth to speak, then +closed his jaws with a snap. "Mr. Whitney is now engaged upon a most +important invention. It is quite natural that he does not wish...." + +"It is hardly a matter of wishes, Mr. Senator," broke in Mitchell. "A +murder has been committed here, and it is imperative that everything be +done to apprehend and convict the criminal." + +"Ha!" Whitney's snort was almost a triumphant challenge. His altered +demeanor did not escape the shrewd eyes watching him so keenly. "So you +think I murdered Spencer?" + +"I have not said what I think," retorted the detective brusquely. "Come, +sir, we are wasting time; take me over your studio at once." + +Whitney's haggard face reddened with anger; twice he opened and shut his +mouth, then thinking better of his first impulse, he turned on his heel. + +"Follow me," he directed ungraciously. As he stepped toward the doorway +he looked back and encountered Miller's intent gaze. The Captain's gray +eyes, their devil-may-care sparkle dampened by anxiety for Kathleen, +broad forehead, and firm mouth inspired confidence. He looked a man whose +word could be relied on. Whitney, harassed by conflicting doubts, and +agonizing apprehensions, acted on impulse. "Come with us, Captain. We'll +be right back, Kiametia; you and Foster wait for us here." + +By common consent the three men avoided the elevator and walked up +stairs. On reaching the attic, Whitney made at once for his studio and +inserting keys in the double lock turned the wards, and opened the door. + +"Go in," he said, and waited until the two men had preceded him in the +room, then entered and closed the door, shooting the inner bolt. The +detective looked around as the faint click of the metal caught his ear. +"Force of habit," explained Whitney. "Hurry and make your examination, +Mitchell; I wish to rejoin my friends downstairs as quickly as possible. +Have a seat, Captain?" + +But Miller declined, and stood watching Mitchell as he made a thorough +search of the apartment. Nothing escaped his attention, and such +furniture as the room boasted was minutely scrutinized, even the Cooper +Hewitt lights and cylinder arc lights being switched on to assist in the +examination. Models, large sink, darkroom, cabinets, tool chest, drawing +tables, and small chemical laboratory were subjected to a thorough +search. Miller's silent wonder grew; nowhere did he perceive a model +resembling a camera, or the camera itself. + +Whitney, sitting astride an ordinary wooden chair, followed the +detective's movements with sardonic amusement, which now and then found +vent in a grim smile. Whitney's expression was not lost upon Miller, who, +finding him a more interesting study than Mitchell, watched him intently +while appearing to be deeply engaged in examining an elevator model. + +"Isn't this the design copied in building your elevator, Mr. +Whitney?" he asked. + +"Yes; that is the model I made when the elevator was built. It was one of +the first installed in a private residence in Washington." + +"It is somewhat different from others that I have seen," commented the +detective, replacing a bottle carefully on a shelf. "The cage is so very +shallow in depth and so long in width." + +"I had to cut my coat according to my cloth," curtly. "This house is very +old and the outer walls are of unusual thickness, also the inner ones, +which accounts for the peculiar shape of the elevator. The brick shaft +had to be built to conform to the walls and staircase. I also invented +that safety air brake catch," he added, as Miller ran the elevator to the +top of the shaft and released the cage with a sudden jerk. The elevator +slipped down a flight, then automatically adjusted itself and stopped. + +"A clever idea," said Miller admiringly. "When I first used your +elevator, Mr. Whitney, I was struck by its unexpected capacity to hold +six people. Its shallowness is deceptive." + +"That's so." Whitney stared at the clock suggestively. "Kathleen, as a +child, used to slip in unseen, and as the majority of the people enter +the elevator facing the floor button plate with their backs to where she +stood, she gave her governesses many scares." + +The detective stopped to examine the elevator model carefully, and +pressed the button marked "Attic." "Persons entering the elevator +instinctively pull to the inner door with their left hand and push the +floor button with the right, and they would be standing with their backs +to where Spencer lay," he said. + +"And anyone could have started the elevator without knowing of his +presence," put in Miller softly, and the detective nodded assent. + +"You have no floor indicator connected with the elevator, Mr. Whitney," +commented Mitchell thoughtfully. + +"No." Whitney rose abruptly. "Finished your search?" Not waiting for a +reply he prepared to leave, and a covert sneer crossed his lips as he +asked, "Found anything criminal?" + +"Only these bottles," indicating the shelves near the laboratory. +"There's enough poison here to kill a regiment." + +"And only for use in photography," Whitney busied himself in adjusting +shades which the detective had raised or lowered the better to see the +room. "Rather a commentary on the laws governing the sale of poisons, +Mitchell; can't buy them at a druggist's, but any man, woman, or child +can go into a photographic supply store and buy any quantity of deadly +poison and no questions asked." + +"Perhaps," was Mitchell's sole comment, as he removed a stopper from a +blue glass bottle and sniffed at its contents. + +"Hm! You are of an inquiring turn of mind." Whitney's eyes contracted +suddenly. "May I remind you that Spencer, whose death you are +investigating, was stabbed." + +"With a dull knife," answered Mitchell, setting down the bottle. "And it +must have taken muscular force to drive the knife home." + +Whitney was suddenly conscious of both men's full regard, and his thin, +wiry figure stiffened. His eyes snapped with pent-up feeling. + +"Is a man to be convicted of crime because it is physically possible for +him to commit murder?" he demanded harshly, and not waiting for an answer +unbolted the door. "I fear, Mitchell, you have wasted both my time and +yours. Remember this, sir." He stepped directly in front of the +detective. "Those making a charge must prove it. Now go." + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +A QUESTION OF LOYALTY + + +Miss Kiametia Grey waited until the sound of Whitney's, Miller's and the +detective's footsteps had died away down the hall before addressing +Senator Foster. + +"Suppose we sit over there," she suggested, indicating a large +leather sofa, and not waiting for his assent, walked over to it and +seated herself. + +The sofa stood with its back to one of the windows, and from its broad +seat its occupants would have a complete view of the attractive library +with its massive furniture, huge old-fashioned chimney, and +bookcase-lined walls. Foster, following Miss Kiametia, was startled by a +glimpse of her face as she stepped into the sunlight whose merciless rays +betrayed the new lines about her closely compressed lips. A touch of +rouge enhanced her pallor. Suddenly conscious of his intent regard she +seated herself, turning her back squarely to the light. + +"Sit there," she exclaimed pettishly, pointing to a Morris chair which +stood close to the sofa. "I prefer to have the person I'm talking to +face me." Without remark Foster made himself comfortable, first, however, +pulling down the shade to protect his eyes from the glare of sunlight. + +"We can't be overheard," began Miss Kiametia. "At least I don't think we +can," and her sharp glance roved inquiringly about the room. "What was +Sinclair Spencer doing in that elevator?" + +"Going downstairs," hazarded the Senator, "or up." + +"Or waiting." + +"Eh?" Foster shot a quick look at her. "Waiting? What for?" + +"That is what we have to discover," and Miss Kiametia sat back and folded +her hands. + +"Yours is hardly a reasonable supposition. People do not usually wait in +elevators, Kiametia." + +"There's no law against it," was her tart reply. "I have very good reason +to believe Spencer was _not_ going out of the house." + +"May I ask what that reason is?" + +"He wore no shoes," and for an instant a smile hovered on her lips as she +caught his startled expression. She was woman enough to enjoy creating a +sensation, and it was not often that she surprised the Senator. + +"Is that so!" he exclaimed thoughtfully. "That puts a somewhat different +complexion on the matter." + +"It does. Why was Sinclair Spencer gallivanting about this house in his +stocking feet?" + +Foster played with his watch chain. "Upon my word, I don't know," he +replied at last. + +"Well, you might hazard a guess." But Foster's only answer was a negative +shake of his head. "Pshaw! use your imagination--suppose Spencer was +unduly inquisitive about Winslow's invention--" + +"Stop, Kiametia!" Foster held up a warning hand. "You are treading on +dangerous ground. Be sure of your facts before suggesting that a man of +Winslow's known integrity is involved in--murder." + +"How you men do jump at conclusions," grumbled Miss Kiametia. "I believe +Julie, the maid, killed Spencer because she found him snooping around +where he had no business to be." + +"Why should the maid play watchdog?" + +"Because she's French, stupid; and I believe, firmly believe, Sinclair +Spencer was in the pay of Germany. Both he and the maid were after +Winslow's invention, one to steal, the other to protect." + +"You have astonishing theories." Foster leaned back and regarded her in +silence, then resumed, "Suppose you give me an exact account of what +transpired this morning." + +He listened with rapt attention to the spinster's graphic description of +the finding of Kathleen and Sinclair Spencer in the elevator. + +"Strange, very strange," he muttered, as she brought the recital to an +end. "How did Kathleen come to enter the elevator without seeing its +occupant?" + +"You take it for granted that Spencer was dead at that time?" asked +the spinster. + +A look of horror crept into Foster's eyes. "Kiametia, what do you mean to +insinuate? Your question implies--" + +"Nothing," hastily. "I only want you, with your sane common sense, to +kill an intolerable doubt. Kathleen cannot--_cannot_ know anything of +this crime." + +"If you doubt, why not ask Kathleen how and when she came to be in the +elevator with Spencer's dead body?" + +"Kathleen is still under the effects of the opiate, and you heard what +Winslow said a few minutes ago about her behavior before the +physician's arrival." + +"Don't worry." Foster laid a soothing hand on hers. "Kathleen's condition +is not surprising under the circumstances; the shock of finding +Spencer's dead body was quite enough to produce hysteria and irrational +conduct. When herself, her explanations will clear up the mystery. +Therefore, why harbor a doubt of her innocence?" + +"If you had seen the expression of her eyes," exclaimed Miss Kiametia. +"It betrayed more than shock and horror. If ever I saw mental anguish +depicted, a naked soul in torment, I saw it then. God help the child!" +She paused and stared at Foster. "Why should Kathleen betray such +emotion? Sinclair Spencer was less than nothing to her." + +"He was very attentive," said Foster slowly. "I have even heard it +reported last fall that they were engaged." + +"Engaged? Fiddlesticks!" Miss Kiametia's head went up in a style +indicative of battle. "Imagine Kathleen caring for a man who openly +boasted he had held the best blood of America in his arms--she isn't that +kind of girl!" + +"Come, Spencer wasn't so unattractive," protested Foster. "I hold no +brief for him; in fact, some of his business transactions were shady; but +upon my word, he was exceedingly good-looking, and if I remember rightly, +you encouraged him to come to your apartment." + +"I've done some remarkably stupid things occasionally," said Miss +Kiametia composedly. "That was one of them." + +"Kiametia!" called a voice in the hallway, and the next moment the +portieres parted and Mrs. Whitney walked into the library. "Oh, there you +are, my dear; I feared you had gone. I am so glad to see you, Senator," +clasping Foster's extended hand warmly. "Winslow and I both hoped you +could come to us. We want your advice." + +"I am entirely at your disposal." As he spoke, Foster dragged forward a +comfortable chair. "Sit here, Mrs. Whitney; you look quite done up," and +his sympathetic tone and manner brought tears to her hot, tired eyes. + +"It is such a comfort to see two such dear friends," she said, looking +gratefully at them. "And to talk to you openly, away from those dreadful +detectives. I haven't had an opportunity to speak privately to Winslow. +Detective Mitchell is his shadow." + +"A little brief authority," Foster shrugged his shoulders. "How is +Kathleen?" + +"Sleeping, thank God!" Mrs. Whitney lowered her voice. "I really feared +for her reason before the doctor came. I could not soothe her, or quiet +her wild weeping." She stopped to glance hastily over her shoulder. +"Vincent said something about Captain Miller having called--is the +Captain here?" + +"He has gone upstairs with your husband and Detective Mitchell," answered +Foster. "Tell me, Mrs. Whitney, was Sinclair Spencer visiting you for any +length of time?" + +"Oh, no; his stopping here last night was quite unexpected; in fact so +unexpected to me that I accidentally put Kiametia in the same room +with him." + +"I didn't stay there," hastily ejaculated the spinster, crimsoning. "The +moment I saw him in bed, I fled." + +"Was he asleep?" questioned Foster; Miss Kiametia had not told him these +details in her description of events at the Whitney residence. + +"I presume so; his eyes were closed--thank goodness!" she added under +her breath, and quickly changed the subject "Any news of Julie's +whereabouts, Minna?" + +"Apparently not; I telephoned to Police Headquarters half an hour ago, +and the desk sergeant said they had found no trace of her." + +"Where is your maid's bedroom, Mrs. Whitney?" asked Foster. + +"She rooms with the cook on the third floor." + +"What does the cook say about Julie's disappearance?" + +"She is as mystified as the rest of us; declares Julie went to bed at the +same time she did, and that when she awoke this morning, the covers on +Julie's bed were thrown back. Thinking Julie had preceded her downstairs, +she dressed and attended to her usual duties. It was not until I rang for +Julie that the other servants realized that none of them had seen her +this morning. Not one, apparently, has the faintest idea as to when she +disappeared, and where." + +"So!" ejaculated Foster unbelievingly. "I imagine the police will jog +their memories." + +"Let us hope they will succeed in finding Julie," snapped Miss Kiametia. +"I confess the situation is getting on my nerves. If she committed the +murder, she should suffer for it. If not, she should come forward and +prove her innocence." + +"It is essential that Julie be found," agreed Foster. "For my +part, I...." + +"Beg pardon, sir," and Vincent approached. "This note has just come for +you," presenting his silver salver to the Senator. "There's no answer, +sir. The clerk at the Portland sent the messenger here with it, as it was +marked 'Immediate.'" + +With a word of apology to his companions, Foster tore open the envelope +and hastily scanned the written lines. + +"I must leave at once," he announced, carefully placing the note in his +leather wallet. "I had forgotten entirely that I had an important +business engagement. Please tell Winslow, Mrs. Whitney, that I will come +back this evening; and you must both count on me if there is anything I +can do for you." + +"Won't you wait for Captain Miller?" asked Miss Kiametia, concealing her +disappointment at the abrupt termination of the interview. + +"Miller? I'm afraid not. Please tell him I was called away and that I +leave my touring car at his service." + +"If you plan to do that, may I get your chauffeur to take me home?" asked +Miss Kiametia quickly. + +"Why, of course; I only wish that I could accompany you." Foster +wavered, he desired most ardently to see the spinster alone, but the +note was urgent, and considering the source, could not be ignored. +"Good-bye." Shaking hands warmly with Mrs. Whitney and Miss Kiametia, he +hastily departed. + +Foster's appointment consumed over an hour, and on leaving the +government building where it had taken place, he walked aimlessly through +the city streets, so deep in thought that he gave no heed to the +direction he was taking. His absorption blinded him to the appearance of +an inconspicuously dressed, heavily veiled woman who, at sight of him, +shrank back under cover of the archway leading to a movie theater, until +he had passed safely up the street. She was about to step out on the +sidewalk again when the sight of a man walking rapidly down the street in +the direction Foster had disappeared, caused her to remain in partial +concealment. The woman peered at the last man irresolutely, while +pretending to examine a gaudy, flaring poster of the movie, one hand +pressed to her rapidly beating heart. Coming to a sudden decision, she +hastened after him, and nearing an intersecting street, overtook him. + +"Captain Miller," she called timidly, and at sound of his name, Miller +turned toward her. + +"Yes?" his hand raised toward his hat at sight of a woman. "You +called me?" + +"Yes, Captain." She drew nearer. "You do not recognize me, but"--sinking +her voice--"I am Julie." + +"Julie?" he echoed. + +"_Oui, monsieur_," in rapid French. "Mademoiselle Kathleen's maid. Ah, +monsieur, for the love you bear her, advise _me_ now. It is for her sake, +not for mine." + +The Captain eyed her intently. "I don't catch your meaning," he said, in +her native tongue. + +"You have surely heard, Captain, of the death of that devil, +Spencer"--Behind her veil, the Frenchwoman's eyes sparkled with rage. +"Well, Captain, his death was--justified." + +"I have no doubt of it," agreed her companion. "But, in the eyes of the +law, it will be termed...." + +"Murder." Her white lips barely formed the word, and she glanced +fearfully behind her. Her half-conscious action recalled the Captain to +their surroundings, and he, too, glanced up the street. Apparently they +had it to themselves; in that unfrequented part of the city there were +few passers-by. The Captain's eyes narrowed; he preferred never to be +conspicuous; a crowded street was more to his liking. + +"Suppose we move on," he suggested, but the Frenchwoman held back. + +"I have spent all the morning at the moving pictures," she said. "There +it is dark. Let us find another." + +"Very well; we can talk as we go," and the Captain suited his step to +hers. "And suppose also that we confine our remarks to English." + +"As monsieur pleases." She half repented her impulsive act. She had +intrusted her secret to another. Would that other prove loyal? A faint +shiver crept down her spine, and she pressed one mitted hand over the +other. "I seek seclusion, monsieur, because--I know too much." + +"'A little knowledge'"--the Captain did not finish the quotation. "Let us +turn down here," and not waiting for her consent, he piloted her up a +side street. "You do not, then, wish to make a confidant of the police?" + +"_Non, non, monsieur_," lapsing again into rapid French. "I think only of +Mademoiselle." + +A sudden gleam lighted the Captain's eyes. "Kathleen," his voice lingered +on her name. "You think she is in danger?" + +"I do, monsieur, in great danger. Did I not see"--she paused in her +hasty speech and bit her tongue; one indiscretion was leading to another. +"It matters not what I saw, monsieur--I am sometimes nearsighted." + +"In that case, your eyes will be examined if testifying in a trial for +murder," and he smiled covertly as he saw the fear tugging at her +heart-strings. "Enough, Julie; I will respect your confidences. You +know--how, I do not inquire--of my deep affection for Mademoiselle +Kathleen...." + +"Who would not love her?" broke in Julie passionately. "So generous, so +fearless and loyal! Ah! she will be faithful to France--she will guard +her father's secret--aye, even to the bitter end." + +"Hush! not so loud," admonished the Captain, laying a steadying hand on +her arm. "Let me think a moment." Totally unconscious of the tears which +fell one by one on her white cheeks, the excited Frenchwoman kept step +with him in silence for three blocks; then the Captain roused himself. +"You are willing to shield Mademoiselle Kathleen at all costs?" he asked. + +"_Oui, monsieur._" + +"And you think you can best accomplish that result by avoiding the +police?" + +"_Oui, monsieur_." + +"Have you money?" + +"A little, monsieur." She turned her troubled countenance toward him. "I +cannot travel far." + +"It is wiser not to travel at all." The Captain slackened his walk before +an unpretentious red brick residence. "The landlady of this house takes +paying guests and asks no questions. Here you can remain _perdue_," with +emphasis, "and no one inside will trouble you; but be cautious, Julie, +how you venture on the street day or night." + +"But, monsieur"--Julie drew back--"I do not fear for myself, only for +mademoiselle, and I like not to be indoors all day. The police, they will +only trouble me with questions should I return to the Whitneys." + +"If you do not return to the Whitneys, Julie, the police will think +you guilty." + +"Me, monsieur?" + +"Yes." + +"But--but--" stammered the Frenchwoman, overwhelmed. "I have committed no +crime. I but left because I could not bear to tell what I know." + +"Your departure is construed as a confession of guilt." The Captain bent +his handsome face nearer hers. "It is only a question, Julie, of the +depth of your affection for Mademoiselle Kathleen. Are you willing to +shield her at all costs?" + +The Frenchwoman faltered for a second, then drew herself proudly erect. +"_Oui, monsieur_. Mademoiselle was kind to me when I lost all--my lover, +my brothers died for France. There is no one who cares for me now but +mademoiselle. I shall not betray her." + +"Good!" The Captain wrung her hand. "Come," and he led the way into +the house. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +THE GAME, "I SPY" + + +Barely pausing to dip his pen in the inkstand, Charles Miller covered +sheet after sheet of thin paper with his fine legible writing. As he +reached the final word he laid down his pen and stretched his cramped +fingers and gently rubbed one hand over the other. For the first time +conscious of the chill atmosphere, he rose and moved about the room. +Stopping before the steam heater to turn it on, he walked back to his +desk and carefully read what he had written, correcting a phrase here and +there. Finally satisfied with the result, he selected an envelope and +placing the papers inside, sealed and addressed it. For a second he held +the envelope poised over the unstained blotting-paper, then raising it +gently, breathed on the still wet ink. At last convinced that it was dry, +he placed the envelope in the pocket of his bathrobe, and picking up his +pajamas went into the bathroom which opened out of his bedroom, and +closed the door. + +Five seconds, fifteen seconds passed, then the long curtains before the +window alcove gently parted and a man looked into the empty room. With +head and shoulders protruding he waited until the sound of running water +reached his ears, then advanced softly into the room. The desk was his +objective point, and his nimble fingers made quick work of sorting its +meager contents. His search was unrewarded; there was not a scrap of +incriminating writing in any drawer, and the neat pile of blotting-paper +was untouched. + +The intruder's expression altered; curiosity gave way to doubt. Without +wasting time he replaced every article where he found it, pausing +occasionally to listen to the sound of splashing coming from behind the +closed bathroom door. Convinced there was no immediate danger of +interruption from that quarter, he walked swiftly to the closet and +minutely examined Miller's clothing. Just as he was leaving the closet a +box-shaped leather bag marked "Underwood" attracted his attention, and +pushing aside a bundle of soiled underclothing, he knelt down and +inserted a skeleton key in the lock, and after a second's work, forced +back the wards and opened the lid of the box. The typewriter it contained +proved uninteresting, and putting back everything as he had found it, he +returned to the window by which he had entered. Pushing it open, he +climbed out on the ledge and, closing the window behind him, by the aid +of ropes swung himself over to a near-by fire escape and disappeared +inside a room opening from it. + +The slight sound occasioned by the closing of his bedroom window was +drowned in Miller's cheery whistle as he emerged from the bathroom. +Refreshed and invigorated by his bath, he switched off the lights and +climbed into bed. + +The sunlight was streaming in the windows when he awoke, and it was a +full minute before his sleepy senses grasped the fact that someone was +pounding on the hall door. Hastily donning his bathrobe, he turned the +key and opened the door. Henry, the Whitneys' chauffeur, was standing on +the threshold. + +"May I have a word with you, sir?" he asked. + +"Certainly, come in," and Miller, conscious of his neglige attire and +that two pretty women were passing down the hall, precipitously retreated +into his bedroom. "Shut the door after you." He waited until his order +had been followed, then demanded impetuously: "How is Miss Kathleen?" + +"Better, sir." + +"Thank God!" The fervid exclamation escaped him unwittingly, and a faint +tinge of red stained his cheeks as he met Henry's attentive regard. "Did +you give her my note?" + +"I sent it to her by the nurse, sir; Miss Kathleen still keeps her room," +said Henry respectfully. "Vincent tells me that she refused even to see +her mother and father." + +"Have you an answer for me?" as the servant paused. + +"The nurse came to the kitchen and gave me these"--pulling a letter and +package out of his pocket--"to deliver personally to you, sir; Miss +Kathleen asked to have them sent at once." + +Taking them Miller examined the addresses; the note was the one he had +written Kathleen, and the package bore the label of a prominent jeweler, +upon which was written Kathleen's full name in Miller's handwriting. Both +were unopened. Miller placed them in his pocket with unmoved face. + +"Why did you not deliver them to me last night?" he asked curtly. + +"I started to, sir, but seeing you walking with Baron von Fincke down +Massachusetts Avenue, sir, I...." Henry's eyes wavered and fell before +Miller's scrutiny. + +"Followed me?" prompted the latter, bending forward. + +"Only a little way"--quickly. "I did not like to intrude, sir, and by +following hoped to get a chance to give you Miss Kathleen's package and +note. I lost sight of you at Thomas Circle, sir, and went home. That is +the gospel truth, sir, as sure as my name is--Heinrich." + +Miller viewed the chauffeur in silence. "So!" he exclaimed, and a pleased +smile brightened his face. "Naturalized, or born in this country?" + +"Born here, sir, of naturalized parents." The chauffeur twisted his cap +nervously. "German-American, sir." + +"There is no such thing, Heinrich." Miller's voice deepened. "The hyphen +cannot be recognized. You are either American or German." + +The chauffeur straightened himself, and his heels clicked together as he +raised his hand in salute. + +"Hoch der Kaiser!" + +The words were echoed by Miller as he sprang forward and grasped the +chauffeur's hand. "For the Fatherland!" he added in German. "Why have you +not declared yourself before?" + +"Until last night, Herr Captain, I was not absolutely sure you were one +of us. But later in the evening Baron von Fincke...." + +"Stood sponsor for me," finished Miller, thrusting his hand in his pajama +pocket, and thereby pushing an envelope still deeper in it. "What have +you to report? Wait, speak English; the walls have ears." + +The chauffeur whitened and moved closer to Miller. "Was Mr. Spencer in +your confidence?" + +"No." + +"And the Baron did not trust him," said Heinrich, reflectively. "If he +was not one of us, how came he to be killed?" + +"God knows." Miller threw out his hands in a hopeless gesture. "I don't." + +"But there must be some motive for the crime," argued the chauffeur. +"Miss Kathleen must have suspected something before taking ..." Powerful +hands on his throat choked his utterance. + +"Never mention Miss Kathleen's name in that connection again," commanded +Miller, his voice low and stern. "You hear me, you dog!" and he shook +Heinrich until his teeth rattled, then released him. + +"Pardon," gasped the badly frightened man. "I meant no offense." + +"See that you follow my instructions hereafter." + +"Yes, sir"--Heinrich caressed his throat tenderly, and looked at Miller +with a new respect. "I was only going to mention, sir, that Mr. Spencer +meddled in what did not concern him. I believe he suspected what I have +come to believe." + +"And what is that?" + +"That this photography business is only a blind." + +"A blind?" Miller looked thoughtfully at his companion. "Suppose you pull +up a chair; wait, first hang your cap over the keyhole of the hall door." +While waiting for Heinrich to follow his instructions Miller seated +himself. "A blind?" he repeated. "No, no, Heinrich, you are mistaken; Mr. +Whitney has invented a very perfect aeroplane camera, of that I am +thoroughly convinced. And our country needs it...." + +"Undoubtedly, sir," Heinrich almost stuttered in his growing excitement. +"But he has invented something that we need more...." + +"What is that?" + +"I don't know, sir." + +Miller, who had been leaning forward in his eagerness, drew back. "Don't +waste my time, Heinrich," he said roughly. + +"Your time won't be wasted," protested the German. "Have patience and let +me explain. I cannot manage this affair alone, I need assistance--and +--you are a frequent caller at the Whitney house...." + +"Well, what then?" + +"Mr. Whitney may be persuaded to take you to his studio ..." the +chauffeur hesitated. + +"Proceed," directed Miller shortly. "You can count on me." + +"Good," the chauffeur hitched his chair closer. "Day before yesterday I +carried a telegram up to the studio. Not hearing any sound in the room, I +carefully turned the knob of the door and found it unlocked. For months I +have tried that door, hoping for just such luck," he interpolated. +"Opening it very softly, I saw Mr. Whitney standing with his back to me, +and facing the muzzle of a rifle. I had only time to note that the rifle +was braced on two iron brackets and that Mr. Whitney was holding a string +which was attached to the trigger; when I saw a flash, the rifle's +recoil--and Mr. Whitney still standing just where he was." + +Miller stared incredulously at Heinrich, down whose face sweat was +running; the man was obviously telling the truth--at least, what he +believed to be the truth. + +"Wake up, Heinrich," he said skeptically, and the chauffeur +flushed hotly. + +"It's God's truth I'm telling you," he declared solemnly. "For the sake +of the Fatherland, believe me." + +"I will," and Miller's fist came softly down on his desk. "Did you hear +no report?" + +"None; there was a Maxim silencer on the rifle." "I see--and blank +cartridges in the breech." "That is what I first thought on seeing Mr. +Whitney still standing," admitted Heinrich. "I believed he was trying to +commit suicide. Then I heard him exclaim: 'God be thanked! I've solved +the problem; it stood the test.'" + +"Hardly a suicide's speech." Miller stared at Heinrich. "Probably he was +testing the Maxim silencer." + +"No, Herr Captain." The chauffeur almost jumbled his words over each +other in his haste. "An instant after the flash, I saw Mr. Whitney sway +upon his feet, recover his balance, and stand upright." + +"The blast of powder must have caused that." + +"He was fully the length of the room from the muzzle of the rifle. There +were no powder marks on his vest and coat when he opened the door in +response to my knock a few minutes later. You see, Herr Captain, as soon +as I got back my wits, I closed the door. When Mr. Whitney pulled out +his gold pencil from his vest pocket to sign for the telegram I heard +something drop on the floor, and letting the receipt slip fall, I +stooped over and picked up with it--this--" and he laid on the desk a +Mauser bullet. + +Miller examined it curiously. His companion was the first to break the +silence. "It is flattened on one side, Herr Captain." + +"I see it is." Miller weighed the bullet in his hand. "You have something +more to tell me, Heinrich; out with it." + +"Yes, Herr Captain. That night I bribed Vincent to let me valet Mr. +Whitney, and I found the vest he wore that afternoon. In it, over the +heart, was a round hole." + +"Did the bullet fit it?" + +"Exactly." There was a protracted silence, which the chauffeur broke with +a question. "What do you make out of it, sir?" + +Miller did not answer directly. "Was Mr. Whitney wearing his ordinary +business suit?" he inquired. + +"Yes, Herr Captain." + +"You are sure he wore nothing over it?" + +"Absolutely positive." + +Miller handed back the bullet. "It rather looks as if Mr. Whitney has +invented some wearing apparel which Mauser bullets cannot penetrate," he +said slowly, "or else...." + +"Yes, Herr Captain." + +"You are a great liar." + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +AT THE MORGUE + + +Shortly before three o'clock on that same afternoon in which Heinrich had +confided in Miller, dashing turnouts and limousines, their smartly +liveried coachmen and chauffeurs asking now and then the direction from +street-crossing policeman, trotted and tooted their way down busy Seventh +Street toward the wharves, their destination a modest two-storied +stuccoed building bearing the words, "D. C. Morgue." The inquest on +Sinclair Spencer was to be held there at three o'clock. + +Spencer's tragic death twenty-four hours before had indeed created a +sensation in the nation's Capital. The wildest rumors were afloat. Was it +deliberate murder or suicide? The press, ever keen to scent sensational +news, had devoted much space to the little known facts and hinted at even +more startling developments; all of which but whetted the curiosity of +the public. The social prominence of the Whitneys had precipitated them +still further into the limelight; not often did the smart set have so +choice a titbit to discuss, and gossip ran riot. It had few facts to +thrive upon, as both the coroner and the police refused to give out the +slightest detail. + +"Good gracious!" ejaculated Miss Kiametia, as the touring car in which +she and Senator Foster were riding threaded its tooting way through the +many vehicles. "This street resembles Connecticut Avenue on Saturday +afternoon. Where _is_ the morgue?" + +"Right here," and Foster sprang out of the car with alacrity as it drew +up to the curb. He had been, for his cheery temperament, singularly +morose, and Miss Kiametia's attempt to make conversation during their +ride had failed. The spinster's talkativeness was a sure indication that +her nerves were on edge; she usually kept guard upon her tongue. + +"Do you suppose the Whitneys are here?" she asked, adjusting her veil +with nervous fingers as she crossed the uneven sidewalk. + +"Probably; I imagine we are late. Look out for that swing door." +Foster put out a steadying hand. "This way," turning to the left of +the entrance. + +"One moment, sir," and Detective Mitchell, who with several others from +the Central Office had been unobtrusively keeping tab on each new +arrival, joined them. "Miss Grey, being a witness, must stay with the +others in this room. The inquest is being held in that inner room, Mr. +Senator. Will you sit over here, Miss Grey...." + +But the spinster hesitated; she relied upon Foster more than she was +willing to admit, and the promise of his presence had reconciled her to +the prospect of a trying afternoon. + +"I prefer to go with you," she objected, turning appealingly to him. + +"But, Kiametia, you can't," interposed Foster hurriedly. "The law forbids +it. I will be in the next room should you need me." He gave her hand a +reassuring squeeze, then glanced hastily about the room. In one corner +the Whitney servants, their inward perturbance showing in their white +scared faces, sat huddled together, but there was no sign of Mr. and Mrs. +Whitney and Kathleen. Apparently he and Miss Kiametia were earlier than +he had at first thought. Turning from Miss Kiametia, he addressed +Detective Mitchell in a low tone. + +"Have you caught Julie, the French maid?" he asked. + +"All developments in the case will be brought out at the inquest," +replied Mitchell politely, and Foster, his curiosity unsatisfied, walked +away. He found the room used for inquests crowded to the doors, and made +his way through the knot of men standing about, to the reporters' table, +where a seat had been reserved for him by the morgue master. Across the +east end of the room was the raised platform upon which stood a long +table and chairs for the coroner, the deputy coroner, and the witnesses, +while to their left were the six chairs for the coroner's jury. As the +Senator seated himself he spied Charles Miller among the men standing at +the back of the room. There was a vacant chair next to his, and after a +few hurried words with the coroner, Foster beckoned Miller to join him. + +"I called you up repeatedly this morning," said Miller, pushing his chair +closer to the Senator so as to make room for a reporter on his left. "But +your servant declared you were not at home." + +"I spent most of the morning at the Whitneys' and lunched with Miss Grey. +Horrible affair, this; the Whitneys are all unstrung." + +"Did you see Kathleen?" + +"No," Foster stroked his chin nervously. "She has steadily refused to see +anyone, even her parents. Her conduct is most strange." + +"I don't agree with you," warmly. "She has undergone a great shock, +finding a friend dead in an elevator...." + +"Ah, did she?" The words seemed forced from Foster; he would have given +much to recall them on seeing the look that flashed in Miller's eyes. + +"She did," he asserted tersely. "Kathleen is the soul of honor--you have +but to know her to appreciate that--she and evil can never be associated +together." + +"You are a warm champion," exclaimed Foster. "I should almost imagine--" + +"That I am engaged to her?" calmly. "Quite true, I am." + +Foster drew back. "I--I beg pardon," he stammered in some confusion. "I +had no idea affairs had progressed so far--I am sorry I spoke as I did." + +"You were but echoing what I hear on all sides," answered Miller +bitterly. + +"True," Foster nodded. "Kathleen's extraordinary silence, when by a few +words she could explain what happened yesterday morning before her +screams aroused the household, is causing unfavorable comment and +unfortunate conjecture." + +"The mystery will be explained this afternoon," and quiet confidence rang +in Miller's pleasantly modulated tones. "Hello, I see some members of the +Diplomatic Corps are present." + +"And the so-called 'four hundred,'" growled Foster. The close atmosphere +had started him coughing, and he scowled at Baron Frederic von Fincke +who was seated near by. "Where is the jury?" he asked, as soon as the +paroxysm of coughing was over. + +"Viewing the body in that room." Miller indicated a closed door to his +right. "The jury is sworn in there by the morgue master." + +As he spoke the door opened and the six men, led by the morgue master, +filed into the room and took their places, and the low hum of +conversation died away as the coroner, stepping to the platform, stated +briefly the reason for the inquest, and summoned Dr. Hall, of the +Emergency Hospital, to the witness chair. He was quickly sworn by the +morgue master, and in response to the coroner's question, stated that he +had reached the Whitney residence shortly after eight o'clock Wednesday +morning in answer to a telephone call. + +"Tell the jury what you found on your arrival," directed the coroner. + +"I was shown upstairs by the butler, whose incoherent remarks led me to +suppose that someone was ill in the elevator. On entering it I found Mr. +Spencer, whom I knew slightly, lying there dead." + +"Did you make a thorough examination?" + +"Only enough to prove that life was extinct. The butler informed me that +my services were needed by Miss Whitney, and I went at once to her." + +"In what condition did you find her?" + +"Hysterical. To quiet her, I finally administered an opiate, and sent for +a trained nurse." + +"Did you consider her case dangerous?" + +"No, but she was completely unstrung; her nervous system had undergone a +severe shock, and I feared for her mental condition if not given +immediate relief and complete rest." + +"Have you seen her today?" + +"Yes, this morning." + +"How was she?" + +"Much improved." + +"Did Miss Whitney speak to you of Mr. Spencer?" + +"She did not." + +"Did you question her on the subject of the mystery surrounding Mr. +Spencer's death?" + +"I did not. In her condition I judged it a topic to be avoided. I also +cautioned her parents not to discuss it with her unless she voluntarily +alluded to it." + +"How long had Spencer been dead, Doctor, when you saw him?" + +"I cannot answer positively, as I did not make a thorough examination, +but judging from appearances, I should say he had been dead at least +four hours." + +Miller shot a triumphant look at Foster, then turned his attention to the +coroner, who was scanning his notebook. + +"I think that is all, Doctor," he announced, "you are excused." + +There was a slight pause, and the deputy coroner, who had been taking the +testimony, laid down his pen and gently massaged his hand. The next +instant at the coroner's direction, the morgue master ushered in +Detective Mitchell. The detective, after being duly sworn, told his full +name and length of service in the District force, and briefly described +his arrival at the Whitney residence. + +"You examined the body in the elevator?" questioned the coroner. + +"Yes, Doctor." + +"Was Mr. Spencer dressed?" + +"Yes, sir, except for coat, waistcoat, collar, and shoes." + +"Are these the clothes he had on at the time of his death?" The coroner +pointed to a pile of wearing apparel lying on the desk. + +"Yes, Doctor." + +"Did you search for the weapon with which Mr. Spencer's throat +was gashed?" + +"At once, sir," answered Mitchell promptly. "At the back of the elevator +near the body I found this"--holding up a short bone-handled knife which +he took from his coat pocket. "The blade was covered with blood." + +Coroner Penfield took the knife and after examining it, handed it to the +foreman of the jury who, upon scanning it closely, passed it on to his +companions. + +"Have you ever seen such a knife before?" questioned the coroner. "The +blade is a peculiar shape." + +"Yes, sir; that shape of knife is sometimes used in modeling clay and by +glaziers when handling putty." + +Penfield and the deputy coroner exchanged glances, then the coroner +resumed his questions. "Did you examine the bedroom Mr. Spencer occupied +Tuesday night, Mitchell?" + +"I did, sir." + +"Had the bed been slept in?" + +"Apparently it had, sir. The pillows and covering had been tossed about." + +"Did you find anything in the room belonging to the deceased?" + +"Yes, the coat and waistcoat of his suit, his collar and shoes." + +"Was there any indication, besides the tossing of the bedclothes, that +the deceased had made preparations to sleep there?" + +"Yes; I found a pair of pajamas lying on the floor near the bed, +apparently hastily discarded, as they were turned wrong side out." + +"Did you examine the deceased's clothes?' + +"Yes, sir. They were what any gentleman would wear in the evening. In his +pockets I found a wallet containing twenty dollars in bills, three +dollars in loose change, and his keys. Here they are, sir," and Mitchell, +as he mentioned each ticketed article, laid them on the table before the +coroner, who examined them carefully. + +"Was there anything about the room which especially claimed your +attention?" Mitchell paused and glanced thoughtfully at his polished +shoes. "Let me alter that question," said the coroner hastily. "Did +you find any indication in the room that Mr. Spencer expected to +return to it?" + +"His clothes were there, and the electric light by the bureau was +burning, notwithstanding the fact that it was nearly nine o'clock in +the morning." + +The coroner consulted his papers, "That is all just now," and Mitchell +departed. "Ask Mr. Whitney to step here," directed Penfield, a second +afterward. + +"Beg pardon, sir," and the morgue master stepped before the platform. +"Mr. Whitney went back to his residence to escort his daughter here. Mrs. +Whitney, however, is waiting in the next room." + +"Very well, bring Mrs. Whitney here," and the coroner left his seat to +assist her to the platform. Mrs. Whitney's customary self-control and air +of good breeding had not deserted her, and whatever her inward +tribulation at appearing before a coroner's jury, it was successfully +concealed as she repeated the oath after the morgue master. + +"Your full name?" questioned Coroner Penfield. + +"Minna Caswell Whitney, daughter of the late Judge William Caswell, of +New York." + +"You were married to Winslow Whitney in--" + +"1896." + +"And you have resided in Washington since then?" + +"Yes, except in the summer months when we went to our home in +Massachusetts or, occasionally, abroad." + +"Will you kindly state what took place at your house on Tuesday evening, +Mrs. Whitney?" + +"I entertained the Sisters in Unity, and afterward went to bed." The +concise reply wrung a smile from Foster. + +"At what hour did the members of your club depart?" + +"A little before one o'clock, Wednesday morning." + +"Then did you go direct to bed?" + +"No, I first showed Miss Kiametia Grey who, owing to an attack of +faintness, was spending the night at my home, to her room; then I +retired." + +"Were you aware that Mr. Spencer was also spending the night under +your roof?" + +"Not until Miss Grey informed me of the fact; I had inadvertently +placed her in the same room with Mr. Spencer. I immediately took her to +another room." + +"Was Mr. Spencer's bedroom in darkness when you ushered Miss Grey into +it?" + +"It was." + +"Did not your husband tell you of Mr. Spencer's presence?" + +"I did not see my husband until Wednesday morning; he had gone to his +studio in the attic when I went to my bedroom. He frequently works all +night on his inventions." + +"Were you awakened during the night by any noise?" + +"No." + +"Did you see your daughter before retiring?" + +"No." + +"Did she attend the meeting of your club?" + +"No, she is not a member." + +"When did you first hear of Mr. Spencer's death?" + +"The next morning, when my daughter's screams aroused the household." + +"How long has Julie Genet, your French maid, been in your employ?" + +"Four years." + +"Have you heard from her since her disappearance?" + +"No." + +"Was she acquainted with Mr. Spencer?" + +"I really don't know." + +The coroner flushed at her tone. "Was Julie discontented with her place?" +he asked, somewhat harshly. + +"I have no reason to suppose so; she never complained." + +"How did you come to employ her?" + +"A friend of mine brought her to this country, and a year later Julie +came to me; she was highly recommended." + +"Has she any relatives in this country to whom she might have gone?" + +"None that I ever heard of." Mrs. Whitney reflected for a second, then +added, "Julie told me some months ago that her only near relatives had +been killed in the war in France." + +"Was Julie a well trained servant?" + +"She was indeed; also good-natured, thoughtful, and obedient." + +"When did you last see Julie?" + +"Downstairs, when giving final directions to Vincent. I told her to +assist him in closing the house, and then go direct to bed; that I would +undress myself as it was so late." + +"Did she appear as usual?" + +"Yes." + +"Did you go at all to Mr. Spencer's bedroom yesterday morning after +hearing of his death?" + +"No." + +"We will not detain you longer, Mrs. Whitney," and with a slight bow to +the jurors and the coroner she made her way from the room. + +Her place was taken by Vincent, the butler, who testified that he had +gone about his work on Wednesday morning as customary, that all windows +and doors were locked as he had left them the night before, and that he +and Henry, the chauffeur, were busy replacing the drawing-room furniture, +removed the night before to make room for chairs for the meeting of the +Sisters in Unity, when startled by Miss Whitney's screams. He also stated +that having gone to bed very late, he had slept heavily and had not been +awakened until aroused at seven o'clock by the cook. His bedroom was +across the hall from the other servants. He had not realized that Julie +Genet was absent until Mrs. Whitney rang for her; he had supposed the +maid was upstairs waiting upon either her or Miss Whitney. No, Julie was +not quarrelsome; she was quiet, deeply engrossed in her own affairs, and +spent much of her time sewing in Miss Whitney's sitting-room. He had +heard that she was to have been married the previous December, but the +war had taken her fiance back to the colors, and he had been killed in +the retreat on Paris. + +Henry, the chauffeur, was the next to testify. He admitted admiration for +Julie and stated that she had not encouraged his attentions, and the +remainder of his testimony simply corroborated that of Vincent. He did +not sleep in the Whitney residence, but took his meals there. + +When giving their testimony the chambermaid, laundress, and scullery +maid also stated they did not sleep at the Whitneys'; that Julie, while +always pleasant, kept very much to herself. They one and all declared +that they had never entered Sinclair Spencer's bedroom Wednesday morning +after the discovery of the tragedy. The coroner quickly dismissed each +one, and Rosa, the cook, looking extremely perturbed, was the last +servant to be questioned. She stated that she had not gone upstairs +Wednesday morning until noon. + +"Sure, I dunno whin Julie wint downstairs Wednesday mornin'," she +declared. "I slep' that heavy I niver hear her a'movin' around." + +"Was it her habit to get up before you did?" asked Coroner Penfield. + +"Yis, sor. She had oneasy nights, like, an' would be off downstairs at +the foist peep o' day. She brooded too much over the papers, I'm feared; +though 'twas natural to read av the divils who killed her kin and +swateheart in France." + +"Did Julie ever speak to you of Mr. Spencer?" + +"Wance or twice, maybe," admitted Rosa reluctantly. + +"Did she ever meet Mr. Spencer away from the house?" + +"Niver, sor." Rosa looked shocked. "Julie was real dacent, she niver +sought her betters' society. Nay, she was afeared Miss Kathleen might +listen to his courtin'. She didn't consider no wan good enough for Miss +Kathleen." + +"Ah, then she was fond of Miss Kathleen?" + +"Sure, fond's not the word; she was daffy about her. An' no wonder, Miss +Kathleen was that good to her; comforted her whin bad news came from the +wars, let her sit and sew wid her, and give her money to sind to France." + +"Was Julie on good terms with the other servants?" + +"Yis, sor. She and Henry had words now and thin; when Henry got teasin', +she didn't always take ut in good part." + +"Have you any idea where Julie went on leaving the Whitneys?" + +"No, sor; she has no real frinds in Washington. I dunno where she can be, +an' I'm sick o' worryin' over her." The warm-hearted Irishwoman's eyes +filled with tears. "Julie was excitable like and quicktempered, but she +niver did wrong, an' don't let yourselves be thinkin' ut." + +"There, there." The coroner laid a kindly hand on her arm. "We won't keep +you any longer, Mrs. O'Leary. Careful of that step," and as the morgue +master appeared, he asked, "Is Miss Kiametia Grey here?" + +"Yes, Doctor." + +"Then ask her to come in." He exchanged a few remarks with the deputy +coroner in a tone too low to reach the ears of the attentive reporters, +then turned back to the witness chair as Miss Kiametia seated herself. + +"We will only keep you a few minutes," he began, after the preliminary +questions had been asked the spinster. "I understand you were +accidentally shown into the bedroom already occupied by Mr. Spencer." + +"I was," stated Miss Kiametia, as the coroner paused. "Neither Mrs. +Whitney nor I was aware he was within a mile of us." + +"Did you discover his presence at once?" + +"No." The spinster's tone was short. "The bed is in an alcove, and I had +only turned on the electric bulb by the bureau; thus the room was in +partial darkness. I--eh--eh--" then with a rush--"I did not know he was +there until I was ready to get in bed." + +"Was Mr. Spencer asleep?" + +"I never waited to see." + +Coroner Penfield stifled a smile and changed the subject. "Were you +aroused during the night by any noise?" + +"No," sharply. "When once in the hall bedroom I took a pretty stiff drink +of whiskey as a nightcap, for I was feeling pretty shaky about then. +Consequently I slept soundly all through the night." + +"Was Mr. Spencer a great friend of yours?" + +"No," with uncomplimentary promptness. "But I did occasionally ask him to +large entertainments." + +"Did you see Miss Whitney before retiring on Tuesday night?" + +"No. Her mother told me she had gone to bed early." + +"Did you see Mr. Whitney?" + +"No." + +"Did you see Julie, the French maid?" + +"Not upstairs. Mrs. Whitney gave me the whiskey and a dressing-gown." + +"Can you tell me if Mr. Spencer was wearing his pajamas in bed?" + +"I cannot," dryly. + +"Did you enter Mr. Spencer's bedroom the next morning after hearing of +his death?" + +"I did not." + +"While in his room Tuesday night did you observe his clothes on a +chair or table? + +"No, and after discovering his presence, I was too keen to get out of +the room to notice anything in it." + +"Then possibly you left the light burning by the bureau?" + +"I did nothing of the sort. It is a hobby of mine never to waste gas or +electricity, and I remember distinctly stopping to put out the light +after I had picked up my clothes." + +"Quite sure, Miss Gray?" and the spinster bridled at his quizzical +glance. + +"I am willing to take my dying oath," she said solemnly, "that I left +that room in total darkness." + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +CIRCUMSTANTIAL EVIDENCE + + +"Mr. Winslow Whitney will be the next witness," announced Coroner +Penfield, first signifying to Miss Kiametia Grey that her presence was no +longer required in the witness chair, and the spinster, with an audible +sigh of relief, picked up her gold mesh purse and its dangling +accessories and hastily left the room. + +There was an instant craning of necks and raising of lorgnettes as the +door opened to admit Winslow Whitney. Courteously acknowledging the bows +of several friends seated near the entrance, he made his way to the +witness chair with a firm tread, and his clear voice was plainly heard +as, in answer to the morgue master's questions, he stated his full name, +age, and length of residence in Washington, having first taken the oath +to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. Charles +Miller, watching him intently, was relieved to find that the nervous +twitching of the muscles of his face and hands, so noticeable the day +before, was missing. Though his haggard face testified to a sleepless +night, Whitney was outwardly composed. + +"For how many years have you known Sinclair Spencer?" asked the coroner. + +"Fully ten." + +"Were you intimately acquainted?" + +"No. I knew him as I know dozens of other men; he was frequently at my +house, and on several occasions he assisted me in protecting my patents +in the law courts." + +"But you would not call him an intimate friend?" + +"Most assuredly not." + +"Was he in the habit of spending the night in your house?" + +"He has sometimes stopped with me during the summer months when I was +detained in Washington and my wife and daughter were away." + +"He was familiar with your house, then?" + +"You mean--architecturally?" + +"Yes. Could he find his way about it alone in the dark?" + +"I presume he could--provided he was sober," dryly. "The arrangement of +the rooms is not complicated, and one floor is very much like another." + +Coroner Penfield cleared his throat. "Was Mr. Spencer a welcome guest in +your house?" + +"Certainly; otherwise I should not have invited him," replied Whitney, +with quiet dignity. + +"Let me amend my question." The coroner laid down his pencil. "Was Mr. +Spencer on a friendly footing with each member of your household?" + +"I have every reason to believe he was." + +"Was Mr. Spencer's manner the same as usual when he called upon you +Tuesday evening?" + +"No." + +"In what way was it different?" + +"He had been drinking." + +"Was he rough, boisterous?" + +"The latter, yes. So much so, that I suggested he spend the night. I did +not wish him to go downstairs and disturb my wife's guests, which he was +quite capable of doing had the whim seized him." + +"Were you then upstairs, Mr. Whitney?" + +"Yes, in my wife's boudoir on the first bedroom floor." + +"When did you last see Mr. Spencer alive?" + +"When I showed him into his bedroom and loaned him a pair of pajamas." + +"Did you help him undress?" + +"No, as he assured me, with drunken gravity, that he could manage +it himself." + +"Did you inform your wife and daughter that Mr. Spencer was spending the +night in your house?" + +"No. My wife was downstairs entertaining her guests, and my daughter was +asleep in her room. I did not see either of them until the next morning." + +"Where did you go after leaving Mr. Spencer in his bedroom?" + +"To my studio in the attic. I remained there all night absorbed in my +work." + +"Did you hear any unusual sounds during the night?" + +"No; my studio, or workshop, is sound-proof. And it is the same +throughout the house," he added. "The walls, besides being of unusual +width, were all deadened by my grandfather's direction. He had a horror +of noise." + +"When did you leave your studio?" + +"About seven o'clock Wednesday morning." + +"Did you use the elevator then?" + +"No, I seldom use it." Whitney twisted about in his chair. "I had the +elevator installed for the convenience of my wife and daughter." + +Penfield made an entry in his notebook, then faced Whitney directly. + +"Have you in connection with your workshop a photographic outfit and +darkroom?" he asked. + +"I have." + +"I am told that you are working on a sort of camera which, used in an +aeroplane, makes a map of the country over which the machine passes. Is +that correct, Mr. Whitney?" + +"Yes," acknowledged Whitney. "A patent is pending." + +"Had it gotten about among your servants that you were working upon an +important invention?" + +"It's very possible," Whitney conceded. + +"Did Julie, your wife's maid, ever evince undue curiosity in your work?" + +Whitney wrinkled his brow in thought. "No," he said. "I can't say that I +am aware she did. When I go to my studio, as we usually call my workshop, +it is an understood thing that I am not to be disturbed by _anyone_. It +is a rule I enforce by dismissal if broken, and the servants have learned +by experience to obey." + +"Has your household access to your studio when you are not there?" + +"No, I securely lock the door whenever I leave the room." + +"Are you ever joined while in your studio by your wife and daughter and +their friends?" + +"Occasionally they bring Miss Grey and Senator Foster in to see my +models." + +"Did you confide the particulars of your latest invention to Mr. +Spencer?" + +"I did not." + +"Did he ever show deep interest in it?" + +"Only questioned me about it now and then," replied Whitney casually, and +Charles Miller alone noted the nervous twitching of his eyelids. + +"Was the electric light turned on in Mr. Spencer's room when you left him +for the night?" + +"Y-yes." Whitney reflected for a moment, then added, "I believe the bulb +by the bureau was burning, but I can't swear to it." + +"Did Mr. Spencer give you any inkling Tuesday night that he intended to +be an early riser on Wednesday morning?" + +"No, he never mentioned the subject." + +"Was it his custom on previous visits, to walk about your house before +the servants were up?" + +"Not that I am aware of," Whitney hesitated. "Possibly his intoxicated +condition made him desire the fresh air." + +"That is possible," admitted the coroner. "But witnesses testify that Mr. +Spencer had on no shoes." + +"Which confirms my statement of his condition," replied Whitney quietly. +"No man in his sober senses seeks the street in his stockings." + +The coroner, making no comment, held up the knife with the black bone +handle. "Have you ever seen this knife before?" + +Whitney turned a shade whiter. "I may have; there is nothing distinctive +about the knife." + +"Is it not used for modeling in clay?" + +"I believe so." + +"Who made the clay models in your studio, Mr. Whitney?" + +"I did." + +"Unassisted?" + +The question remained unanswered, and after a brief pause the +coroner pushed back his chair and rose. "That is all, thank you, Mr. +Whitney; kindly wait in the adjoining room to the left; you will +find a chair there." + +With a stiff bow Whitney stepped down from the platform and made his way +through the silent crowd to the room indicated. + +As the door closed behind him, Penfield called the deputy coroner to the +stand. Laying down his pen, Dr. North took his seat in the witness chair, +and after being sworn, turned to face the jurors, chart in hand. + +"You made the autopsy upon Mr. Sinclair Spencer?" questioned Penfield. + +"I did, Doctor, in the presence of the morgue master." + +"Please state to the jury the result of that autopsy." + +The deputy coroner glanced at the notes on the back of the chart, then +reversed it, holding it aloft so that all in the room could see the +anatomical drawing of a human figure. + +"The knife penetrated this section of the neck, just missing the carotid +artery," he began, using his pencil to indicate the spot marked on the +chart. "While the wound bled profusely it was superficial and did not +cause death." + +His words created a sensation. Men and women looked at each other, then +sat forward in their chairs, the better to view the deputy coroner and +his chart. + +"Were there indications of death from extreme alcoholism, then?" +questioned the coroner, and his voice sounded unusually loud in the deep +silence which prevailed. + +"No. Judging by the contents of the stomach Mr. Spencer had not taken +alcohol to excess." + +"Then if the knife wound was not fatal, and there was no indication of +intoxication, what caused Mr. Spencer's death?" demanded the coroner. + +"On examination," Dr. North weighed his words carefully, "I found a +powerful drug had evidently been used, producing instantaneous death by +paralyzing the respiratory center and arresting the heart action." + +All in the room were giving the deputy coroner rapt attention. Many had +come there purely from love of sensation, and they were not being +disappointed. The eyes of Charles Miller and Senator Foster met for a +second, then quickly shifted back to the deputy coroner. The reporters, +their pencils flying across the sheets, were the only ones in the room +who had not glanced at the witness. + +"Have you discovered the drug used?" questioned the coroner. + +"By tests I found it to be cyanide of potassium, a most deadly poison, +generally instantaneous in its action." + +"How large a dose was given?" + +"I don't know, as there were no indications of it in the gastric +contents." + +"Then how was the drug administered?" + +"Through the blood." + +"By means of the knife?" + +The deputy coroner looked puzzled. "Possibly," he admitted. "But I could +find no trace of the poison left on the knife blade. There was no mark +on the body to show how the poison was administered." + +"At what hour did death occur?" + +"Between three and four in the morning, judging by the condition of +the body." + +"Was there any indication, Doctor, of resistance on the part of the +deceased? Did he make an effort to defend himself." + +"No, Judging from his expression and the condition of the muscles I +should say that Mr. Spencer never knew what killed him, never knew even +that his life was threatened." + +"Were his hands opened or clenched?" + +"His right hand was clenched," acknowledged the deputy coroner. "Not, +however, for the purpose of defense, but to retain his grasp upon this--" +and drawing an envelope from his pocket he carefully shook into his open +palm a crushed and faded flower. "It is a cornflower," he explained. +"Sometimes called bachelor's button. The stem is broken short off." And +he held the flower so that all might view it. + +Senator Foster, who had followed the testimony with unflagging interest, +heard a sudden sharp intake of breath to his right, but glancing quickly +at Charles Miller he found his face expressionless. + +Penfield took the cornflower and envelope from the deputy coroner and +laid them carefully on his desk, while continuing his examination. No one +paid any attention to the lengthening shadows of the late afternoon, and +the coroner's next question was awaited with breathless interest. + +"Is cyanide of potassium used in photography?" he inquired. + +"It is." + +"That is all, Doctor, you are excused," and the deputy coroner returned +to his seat. + +The next witness was the morgue master, and his testimony simply +corroborated that of the deputy coroner. He was followed by William Banks +and John P. Wilson, respectively, both well known in the financial world +of Washington, who testified to Sinclair Spencer's standing in the +community, and stated that his financial condition precluded any +suggestion of suicide; and that to their knowledge he had no enemies. + +The lights were burning when the last named witness left the chair, but +there was no sign of weariness among the men and women in the room. +Although several consulted their watches, no one rose to go. Their +already deeply stirred interest was quickened into fever heat as, in +obedience to the coroner's summons, Kathleen Whitney took her place in +the witness chair. + +Dressed with the strict attention to detail and taste which made her one +of the conspicuous figures in the younger set, Kathleen's appearance and +beauty made instant impression upon juror and spectator alike. But her +chic veil failed to hide the pallor of her cheeks, and the unnatural +brilliancy of her eyes. Despite every effort at control, her voice shook +as she repeated the oath word for word and stated her full name and age. + +"Have you always resided in Washington?" asked the coroner. + +"Yes." + +"Were you educated in this city?" + +"Yes, except for a winter in Germany." + +"Did you take up a special study while in Germany, Miss Whitney?" + +"Yes, miniature painting--" + +"And modeling?" as she paused. + +"Oh, no, I never studied that abroad although I occasionally help my +father by modeling in clay." + +"When did you make your debut in Washington society?" + +"Last winter." + +"Did you then make Mr. Sinclair Spencer's acquaintance?" + +"No." She moved involuntarily at the mention of Spencer's name. "I +had known him previously. He was one of father's friends, and much +older than I." + +"Were you not reported engaged to him last fall?" + +Kathleen flushed at the question. "I never heard of it," she said coldly. +"I do not encourage gossip." + +"Miss Whitney." Coroner Penfield surreptitiously scanned a small note +handed him before the commencement of the inquest. The handwriting was +distinctly foreign. "Miss Whitney," repeated Penfield. "Did you not +refuse Mr. Spencer's offer of marriage on Tuesday morning?" + +For a moment Kathleen stared at him in speechless surprise. "Where did +you get that piece of information?" she demanded, recovering herself. + +"You have not answered my question, Miss Whitney," and the quiet +persistence of his manner impressed Kathleen. + +"Yes, I refused him," she admitted. + +"Did Mr. Spencer make any attempt to persuade you to reconsider +your refusal?" + +"Yes." Kathleen shot an impatient look at the coroner. "I cannot see what +my private affairs have to do with the regrettable death of Mr. +Spencer," she protested. + +Penfield ignored her remark. "Did Mr. Spencer communicate with you +Tuesday by letter or telephone?" he asked and waited, but the question +remained unanswered. To the disappointment of the reporters, he did not +repeat it, but asked instead: "Were you aware on Tuesday evening that Mr. +Spencer was spending the night at your house?" + +"No." + +"Did you see either your father or your mother that night before +retiring?" + +"No." + +"When did you last see Julie, your mother's maid?" + +"Before dinner when she came to my bedroom to help me change my dress." + +"Did she seem discontented with her situation?'" questioned the coroner. + +"No." + +"Did Julie ever evince dislike to Mr. Spencer?" + +Kathleen's hand crept to her throat and she plucked nervously at her +veil. "Julie was too respectful to discuss our family friends with +me," she said. + +"You have not answered my question, Miss Whitney," was Penfield's quick +retort, and Kathleen flushed under the rebuke. + +"Because I am aware that you are striving to make me incriminate Julie in +Mr. Spencer's death," she began heatedly. "Instead, you and the police +should make every effort to find Julie and protect her ..." + +"From what?" + +"I don't know," hopelessly. "Julie has no friends in this city, no one +whom she could turn to in trouble but me. I cannot understand her +disappearance; I fear, greatly fear, foul play." + +"Circumstantial evidence points to her having disappeared of her own +volition, Miss Whitney, to escape being charged with a heinous crime." + +"Pardon me, her disappearance is the only scrap of evidence which leads +you to think she might possibly have murdered a man whom she knew by +sight," retorted Kathleen. + +"Was it your habit to supply Julie with money?" questioned the coroner. + +"Yes, which she sent to France as her mite toward the war fund," answered +Kathleen heatedly. "I am confident Julie had nothing whatever to do with +the death of Mr. Spencer." + +"Can you tell us who did, Miss Whitney?" asked Penfield, and he saw the +terror which crept into her handsome eyes. + +"I cannot," she answered with unsteady lips. "I never awoke that night." + +"What took you downstairs at so early an hour yesterday morning?" + +"I had rung the upstairs bell for Julie, and as she did not come, I +started to go down and find her," she hesitated uncertainly. + +"Continue," directed Penfield. "Tell your story of finding Mr. Spencer's +body in your own way." + +It was some minutes before Kathleen obeyed his request. "I went to the +elevator and pushed the button," she began slowly. "I was in a hurry, and +when I heard the click which indicated the cage was there I opened the +outer mahogany door, pushed back the inner steel grille-work door, +stepped into the elevator and without looking about me, closed the doors, +and pushed the basement button. Then I turned about"--Kathleen moistened +her dry lips--"and saw--and saw--Mr. Spencer lying there--the blood"--she +closed her eyes as if to shut out the, recollection--"I think for a time +I lost my reason. I have no intelligent recollection of anything that +occurred until I found myself in bed with a trained nurse in attendance." + +As her charming voice ceased, Charles Miller, who had never taken his +eyes from her face, gently moved his chair so that Foster's figure cast +him in shadow. Never once had Kathleen glanced his way; she sat for the +most part with her eyes downcast or looking directly at the coroner. +Kathleen was visibly moved by the recital of her experiences in the +elevator, and Penfield waited an instant before questioning her further. + +"Could you tell from what floor the elevator came when you pushed your +floor button?" he asked. + +"No," was the disappointing answer. "The elevator runs practically +noiselessly, and we have no floor indicator such as you see in stores." + +"Was the electric light turned on in the elevator when you entered it?" + +"No." + +"Then how could you see Mr. Spencer so clearly?" + +"The brick elevator shaft is lighted by a skylight," answered Kathleen. +"The electric light is only needed at night." + +"Do you recognize this knife?" and Penfield held it before her as he +spoke. Kathleen's eyes did not shift their gaze, but her teeth met +sharply on her lower lip. + +"I see that it resembles one that I have," she said. + +"You still have yours?" + +"Yes, you will find it in my desk drawer at home." + +"Had you only the one knife, Miss Whitney?" + +"I may have had others," indifferently. "I do not recall; I buy my +painting and modeling supplies as I need them." + +The coroner replaced the knife without further comment. + +"You use azurea perfume, do you not?" he asked. + +"Yes." + +"What was your object in trying to rub out a blood stain on the front of +Mr. Spencer's white shirt, Miss Whitney, while you were in the elevator?" +asked Penfield. + +Kathleen looked at him dully. "Wh-what d-did you say?" she stuttered. + +For answer Penfield took from the pile of clothing on the table a white +shirt and pointed to a discoloration on its glazed surface. + +"When I first saw this shirt on Mr. Spencer it reeked of perfume," he +said sternly. "Submitted to chemical tests, I find a blood stain was +partially removed by azurea. Again I ask, what was your object in +attempting to remove the blood stain?" + +But Penfield spoke to deaf ears. Kathleen had fainted. Excitement waxed +high in the room as Kathleen was carried out by Charles Miller, the first +to reach her side, and placed in the tender care of Mrs. Whitney and the +trained nurse. Waiting only to see her brought back to consciousness by +Dr. Hall, Miller slipped back into the inquest room. Detective Mitchell +was again in the witness chair. + +"You made a thorough examination of Miss Whitney's room?" inquired +the coroner. + +"Yes, Doctor." + +"And what did you find?" + +"This torn note"--and the detective held up the pieces in each hand. + +"Read its contents aloud," ordered Penfield. + +"The Connecticut, + +"Tuesday afternoon. + +"KATHLEEN, MY DARLING: + +"I implore you to reconsider--before it is too late. Consult +your father's best interests before you reject _me_. + +"Yours, with undying affection, + + "SINCLAIR." + +Mitchell paused after reading the signature, then continued. "Here is a +sample of Mr. Spencer's handwriting, attested by his cousin, Captain +Dunbar; the handwriting of the notes is identical, sir," and he placed +the papers in Penfield's hand. Reading them carefully, the coroner passed +them along to the jury for examination. + +"Where did you find this note?" he asked Mitchell. + +"Among Miss Whitney's painting materials in her sitting-room." + +"What is that in your lap?" and the coroner pointed to a paper box. In +answer Mitchell raised the cover and displayed a bouquet of faded +cornflowers. + +"I found it in Miss Whitney's sitting-room also," he stated. In tipping +the box, the better to show its contents, a small piece of white muslin +rolled to the floor. Quickly Penfield retrieved it. "I discovered that +handkerchief secreted in the folds of Miss Whitney's blue foulard gown," +added Mitchell, as the coroner spread open the handkerchief. It was badly +mussed and its white center bore dark stains. Penfield sniffed the faint +perfume still hanging about it; then without comment handed the +handkerchief to the foreman of the jury. + +"That is all, Mitchell," announced Penfield, and as the detective +departed, he turned and addressed the jury. His summing up of the case +was quick and to the point, and at the end the jurors silently filed into +another room. It was long after seven o'clock, but no one stirred in the +room, and the silence, which none cared to break, slowly grew oppressive. +The long wait was finally terminated by the reappearance of the jury. +Coroner Penfield rose and addressed them. + +"Gentlemen of the jury," he said, "have you reached a verdict?" + +"The jury find," answered the foreman, "that Kathleen Whitney is +responsible for the death of Sinclair Spencer by poison on the morning of +Wednesday, March 24, 1915, in her family residence in the city of +Washington." + +Quickly the crowded room emptied, reporters rushing madly for motors; not +often had the district morgue housed a _cause celebre_, and its +sensational details had to be rushed on the wire. Charles Miller, +separated from Foster by the sudden crowding of the doorways, waited to +one side for him. + +"Americans are an emotional people," commented a quiet voice at his +elbow, and turning hastily Miller recognized Baron Frederic von Fincke. +"One death more or less does not create a furore elsewhere." + +"That depends on who dies," retorted Miller. + +"True. If it should be a member of the Imperial Family"--Von Fincke's +gesture was eloquent. "To them, all give way. We others are pawns." + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +A PROPOSAL + + +The atmosphere inside the house matched the leaden skies outside in point +of gloom, and even the wood fire, crackling on the hearth, failed to +mitigate the air of restraint and cheerlessness which prevailed in the +dining-room. The rain, falling in torrents, had brought with it a +penetrating cold wind, a last reminder of winter, and Vincent, passing +noiselessly to and from the pantry with sundry savory dishes, was +grateful for the heat thrown out by the blazing logs. + +Mrs. Whitney, whose eyes were red and inflamed from constant weeping, +gave up her attempt to eat her breakfast and pushed her plate away. + +"Let me give you some hot coffee, Winslow," she suggested. "Your cup must +be stone cold, and you haven't touched your fish balls." + +Absorbed in his newspaper, Whitney did not at first heed her request, but +the pulling back of the portieres aroused him, and glancing over his +shoulder, he saw Kathleen entering the room. + +"Good morning, Dad," laying her hand for a second on his shoulder before +taking the chair Vincent pulled out. "Just a cup of coffee, mother dear, +that is all," and Kathleen unfolded her napkin. + +"You told me upstairs you would remain in bed, Kathleen." Mrs. Whitney +looked solicitously at her. "Are you prudent to tax your strength after +all you were subjected to yesterday?" + +"I couldn't stay still a moment longer." Kathleen's slender, supple +fingers played with a piece of toast. "You need not bother to conceal the +newspapers, Dad," as Whitney surreptitiously tucked the _Herald_ and the +_Post_ behind his back. "I read them up in my room." + +"My dearest, I'm sorry you did that." Whitney leaned over and clasped her +hand tenderly. "I gave orders that...." + +"Vincent is not to blame," broke in Kathleen. "I borrowed the nurse's +newspapers before she left." + +"There was no sense in your reading all this jargon," protested Whitney +warmly. "And there is no need, Kathleen, of paying attention to one word +published here. Your friends believe in you absolutely, as we do." + +"Thank you, Dad." Kathleen returned the strong pressure of his hand, and +leaning over, kissed Mrs. Whitney. "Bless both your dear loyal hearts." +Her eyes brimmed with tears, and she dashed them impatiently away. "It +was better that I should see the papers," she continued a moment later, +"and know the world's unbiased opinion." + +"Unbiased opinion in a newspaper!" Whitney laughed mirthlessly. "That and +the millennium will arrive together. Have you everything you want, +Kathleen?" + +"Yes, Dad." + +"Then you need not wait, Vincent. Now, Minna, what did you ask me a few +minutes ago?" + +"If you will have some hot coffee. Yes? Then send me your cup," and Mrs. +Whitney, taking it from Kathleen, poured out the coffee and hot milk. As +she returned the cup and saucer, she glanced carefully about the room, +but Vincent had departed to the kitchen. Satisfied on that point, she +lowered her voice to a confidential pitch. "I hear the servants are +planning to leave." + +"Who cares?" Whitney shrugged his shoulders. "There are better where they +came from." + +"Quite true," agreed Mrs. Whitney. "Then, will you give me their +wages ..." + +"Wages?" Whitney flushed with anger. "No, if the dirty dogs wish to leave +us in the lurch without notice, they will not get one cent from me." + +"They won't leave us," declared Kathleen. "At least, I am sure that +Vincent and Rosa will not go. They have been with us too long." + +"I only know what Henry told me he heard in the kitchen this morning," +explained Mrs. Whitney. + +"Oh, Henry!" exclaimed Kathleen contemptuously. "I wouldn't put any faith +in what he says; he is forever making trouble in the kitchen. He is ..." + +The violent ringing of the telephone bell interrupted her. + +"I have finished my breakfast, I'll go," volunteered Mrs. Whitney, and +she hastened into the pantry where a branch telephone had been installed +for the use of the servants. Before the swing door closed tightly, they +heard her say: "Oh, Kiametia ..." + +"What is the reason the servants are so anxious to decamp?" asked +Whitney, handing Kathleen the dish of fruit, which she declined. + +"You forget this house has become a chamber of horrors." Kathleen's voice +shook, and she paused to take a hasty swallow of hot coffee. "Possibly +the presence of the detectives makes them nervous." + +"Well, a sudden leave-taking from here will probably center the +detectives' attention upon them more than if they stayed and did +their work." + +"That is highly probable. Tell me, Dad"--Kathleen regarded Whitney +intently--"how is it that I am not in jail? Did not the coroner's jury +convict me?" + +"Their verdict read that you were responsible for Spencer's death, and as +such you are under suspicion and will be held for the Grand Jury." + +"Oh!" Kathleen shuddered slightly. + +"I had no difficulty arranging bail," continued Whitney. "The officials +themselves realize--must realize," he interjected, with bitter +force--"there is little _real_ evidence against you. The coroner's +jury--the d----fools"--the words escaped between his clenched teeth--"to +place faith in circumstantial evidence!" Whitney's clenched fist +descended on the table with a force that made the goblets ring. "My dear, +why, why did you try to whitewash Julie?" + +"Because I knew she had nothing to do with Sinclair Spencer's death." + +"You knew nothing of the sort"--with subdued violence. "You are totally +wrong. That Julie ran away is confession of complicity in the crime." + +"I don't believe Julie ran away; I do not"--meeting her father's angry +eyes steadily. "I believe she was enticed away. I tell you, Dad, if this +mystery is ever to be cleared, you must find...." + +"Captain Miller," announced Vincent, drawing back the portieres from the +doorway, and Miller, emerging from the hall, advanced into the room. + +Kathleen's coffee cup descended with a clatter on its saucer as her +nerveless fingers released their hold, and placing one hand on the back +of her chair to steady herself, she rose slowly to her feet. + +"Senator Foster would like to speak to you a minute, Mr. Whitney," added +Vincent. "He is waiting at the front door, sir." + +"Certainly." Whitney shook Miller's hand cordially. "Excuse me a second, +Captain, I'll be back in a jiffy," and he followed Vincent from the room. + +Impulsively Miller stepped toward Kathleen, hands extended and eyes +alight with passionate tenderness. "My love, my dear, dear love!" + +"Stop!" Kathleen spoke in a dangerously low tone. "I must request you to +leave this house at once." + +"Kathleen!" + +"You understand the English tongue?" Her cold repellent manner caused him +to pause in uncertainty. "Or shall I translate my request into German?" + +"I will not put you to that inconvenience," he retorted hotly; then his +manner changed. "Ah, Kathleen, do not let us waste the precious seconds +bickering. Tell me what I can do for you." + +"_You_ ask me that?" Her tone was impossible to translate. + +"Yes." Miller held her gaze, his handsome eyes speaking a language all +their own. "You gave me the right, my darling, to protect you--and I +_shall_ protect you." + +Her strength suddenly deserting her, Kathleen sank down in her chair. + +"You will protect me," she echoed. "_You?_" + +Her tone stung him to the quick. "Yes--I," he said slowly. "Do you not +realize the depth of my love? I would willingly sacrifice my career, my +life for you--and count it no sacrifice." + +"Would God I could believe you!" The cry was wrung from her, and she +raised her trembling hands to brush away the blinding tears. + +Miller dropped on one knee beside her. "My dearest, my heart's desire!" +he whispered passionately, taking her hands prisoner. At his touch she +shrank back, remembrance crowding upon her. + +"Go!" she stammered. "I have kept faith; go, before I say too much." + +Before Miller could answer he heard his name called, and the sound of +rapid footsteps. With a bound he was on his feet, and pausing only +long enough to whisper "Courage, Kathleen," he joined Winslow Whitney +in the hall. + +But Kathleen was hardly conscious of his departure. With an exceedingly +bitter moan, she dropped her head upon her arms and cried as if her heart +would break. Mrs. Whitney, entering from the pantry a second later, +paused aghast, then running to Kathleen, soothed her with loving word and +hand back to some semblance of composure. + +Miller found Winslow Whitney walking rapidly up and down the hall. He +stopped at sight of the latter. "Come in the library," he said. "I've +given instructions that we are not to be interrupted," closing the door +and also pulling to the folding doors behind the portieres leading to +the dining-room. "Make yourself comfortable, Captain," producing a box +of cigars. "Don't mind if I walk up and down; I think better when +moving about." + +"Same here," but Miller selected the most comfortable chair in the room +and puffed slowly at his cigar, while never taking his eyes from his +host. Neither man spoke for fully five minutes, then Whitney pulled up a +chair and sat down near his companion. + +"Have you seen Senator Foster today?" he inquired. + +"Not to talk to; but I caught a glimpse of him coming here as I entered." +Miller knocked the gathering ash from the end of his cigar. "I was with +him at the inquest yesterday." + +"I saw you both there." Whitney selected a cigar and, lighting it, sat +back. "Did Foster happen to tell you that Sinclair Spencer had in his +will made him executor of his estate?" + +"No." + +"Well, he came here today to tell me that, and also that Kathleen is +mentioned in Spencer's will as residuary legatee." + +"What!" Miller's surprise was shown in his face, which had grown +suddenly white. + +"Spencer evidently really cared for Kathleen," went on Whitney, paying no +attention to his ejaculation. "A queer fellow, Spencer; I did not give +him credit for possessing sincere feeling, except where he himself was +concerned." + +"Was Spencer wealthy?" The question shot from Miller against his will. + +"Report says so; I never inquired, myself." Whitney puffed a cloud of +smoke, and as it cleared away, turned impulsively to Miller. "I'm damned +if I like Foster's manner to me today!" he burst out. + +"Why, what happened?" Miller bent eagerly forward. + +"I only asked him to postpone probating Spencer's will," began Whitney, +laying down his cigar. + +Miller's eyes opened. "Did he agree to it?" + +"No--refused curtly." Whitney's eyes flashed. "And the manner of his +refusal--rankles," he confessed. + +"Your request was somewhat singular," commented Miller slowly. + +"Nothing singular about it," retorted Whitney. "I was thinking of +Kathleen when I made the request. Man, do you not see," and the haggard +lines in his face deepened, "the instant that will is offered for probate +its contents become public. And its publication now will but strengthen +the suspicion already centered about Kathleen, by supplying a possible +motive for Spencer's murder." + +"Suspicion cannot injure the innocent," protested Miller. + +"Oh, can't it! That's all you know about it," growled Whitney, wiping +beads of moisture from his forehead. "So much for Foster's friendship +when put to the test. I made it plain to him that my request was prompted +by my desire to shield Kathleen from further publicity." + +"I understand, Mr. Whitney," said Miller gently. + +"Yes, I believe you do," went on Whitney feverishly. "That an old friend +should be the first to go back on me; there's the sting. We are a proud +family, Miller, united in our affections." He cleared his throat of a +slight huskiness. "I would have given everything I possess to have spared +Kathleen that scene at the inquest yesterday; I never for a moment +imagined"--He straightened up.--"I am going to move heaven and earth to +clear Kathleen from this vile suspicion that she is in some way +responsible for Sinclair Spencer's death." + +"I'm with you, Mr. Whitney," Miller's voice rang out clear and strong, +carrying conviction, and a flash of hope lighted Whitney's brooding eyes. +"I love your daughter, sir, and came this morning to ask your consent to +our marriage." + +Whitney looked at him long and intently, and Miller bore the scrutiny +without flinching, his direct gaze never shifting, and his strongly +molded features set with dogged determination. + +"You make this proposal, and at this time?" asked Whitney at last. + +"Yes." Miller's hand tightened its grip on the arm of his chair. +"Clouds can be dispelled, sir; and my faith in your daughter will never +be shaken." + +Without a word Whitney extended his hand, and Miller grasped it +eagerly. "You have my consent, Captain," he said, the huskiness of his +voice more pronounced. "I cannot, of course, answer for Kathleen; I +would not force her acceptance of any man." He turned to relight his +cigar, and Miller's swift change of expression escaped him. "Tell me, +Captain," continued Whitney, tossing away the match. "What conclusions +did you draw at the inquest?" + +"I think the jury acted on inconclusive evidence," said Miller +thoughtfully. "Before rendering any verdict they should have waited to +hear Julie's testimony." + +"You have hit the nail on the head," declared Whitney. "I firmly believe, +in spite of the other servants' testimony, that Julie and Sinclair +Spencer knew each other well, and his death is the result of a +clandestine love affair with her." + +"Love may have entered into it," acknowledged Miller. "But I think there +is also another motive behind Spencer's murder, the significance of which +we have not fully grasped." + +"And that is--?" + +Miller did not answer directly. "What motive inspired Spencer to feign +drunkenness," he asked, "and when everyone was asleep, to steal over this +house like a thief in the night?" + +Whitney drummed impatiently on the desk. "There is but one apparent +answer," he admitted reluctantly. "You believe that he was interested in +my inventions?" + +"I do; his actions certainly point to that conclusion." + +Whitney shook his head. "His behavior that night would have been just the +same if planning a clandestine meeting with Julie." + +"But, my dear sir, he could have met Julie elsewhere with far less danger +of discovery. Besides," Miller hesitated, "let us give the devil his due. +Spencer was evidently very much attached to Kathleen. With her image +before him, I do not believe he spared a thought for the French maid." + +Whitney looked his disbelief. "In this instance, I cannot speak well of +the dead," he said slowly. "I know too much of Spencer's past. He was not +above courting the maid and the mistress at the same time." + +"Well, at least Spencer was no fool; if he did court Julie, it was not +done in this house." Miller tossed his cigar stub into the ash receiver. +"It might be that he used the maid to assist him in securing information +about your inventions." + +"You may be right." Whitney started from his chair. "And Julie, perhaps +believing in his protestations of affection at first, awoke to his +duplicity, and took the occasion of his spying to kill him." + +"Yes, that's about my idea." + +"But--but--" Whitney turned bewildered eyes on his companion. "What +prompted Spencer to desire to steal my inventions?" + +"That we have still to learn. That he did try, I am as convinced as if I +had seen him." Miller picked up another cigar. "And, Mr. Whitney, permit +me to call attention to one very essential fact...." + +"Go on," urged Whitney. + +"That what Spencer failed to accomplish, others may." + +"Nonsense." + +"It is very far from nonsense." Miller's earnestness impressed Whitney. +"I do not for one moment believe that Spencer was working alone." + +"You hint at conspiracy?" Whitney frowned perplexedly. + +"Call it that if you wish; only, sir, take every precaution to safeguard +your inventions from prying eyes." + +"I have, already." + +"How, for instance?" + +"With double locks, iron shutters, and electric wires, my workshop is +hermetically sealed." + +"Until a clever thief gains entrance." Miller laughed faintly. "The +science of house-breaking keeps step with modern inventions to protect +property. What one man can conceive another man can fathom." + +"You may be right." Whitney took a short turn about the room, then +stopped in front of his companion. "What precautions would you suggest?" + +Miller did not answer immediately. "It is very likely that another +attempt will be made to secure the drawings and specifications of your +inventions, if not your models," he said finally. "And if on guard, you +may not only catch the thief but Spencer's murderer." + +"A good idea," acknowledged Whitney. "But how would you suggest going +about to catch the thief?" + +"By laying a plot for him; forget to lock your studio door +occasionally, lay prepared paper inconspicuously about, and powder your +tables and floor with fine dust. The thief will leave an indelible +trail behind him." + +"And walk off with all necessary data," answered Whitney skeptically. "As +clever a thief as you paint will never leave that room, once he is inside +it, without full knowledge of my inventions." + +"The thief will not have an opportunity of stealing what he came for, +because the specifications and drawings of your inventions will not +be there." + +"Eh!" Whitney's cigar fell unheeded to the floor. "Where will they be?" + +"In my possession." + +Too astounded to speak, Whitney stared at his companion. It was over a +minute before he recovered himself. + +"Do you think I will trust you with the drawings and models of my latest +inventions?" he asked. + +"You did not withhold your consent when, a short time ago, I asked for +Kathleen's hand in marriage," said Miller slowly. "Do you hold your +inventions dearer than your daughter's future happiness, which you are +willing to intrust to my care?" + +Never taking his eyes from his companion's face Whitney stepped back. The +seconds lengthened into minutes before he spoke. "Come upstairs," he said +and, turning, made for the closed door. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +THE YELLOW STREAK + + +Leaving the War Department; Detective Mitchell debated for a second +whether to walk around the back of the White House grounds to the +Municipal Building, or to go to Pennsylvania Avenue and take an east +bound electric car. But there was no sign of let-up in the pelting rain, +and pulling his coat collar up about his ears, he hastened toward the +avenue, and at sight of an approaching car broke into a run. The usually +empty sidewalks were filled with hurrying government employees, anxious +to get their luncheon and return in the prescribed half-hour to the +State, War, and Navy Departments, and the detective had some difficulty +in dodging the pedestrians. + +Seeing an opening among the lowered umbrellas, he stepped off the curb +and dashed for the street car. He was almost by its side when the +hoarse sound of a motor siren smote his ear, and glancing sideways, he +saw a touring car bearing down upon him at full speed. In trying to +spring backward his foot slipped on the wet asphalt and he sprawled +forward on his knees. The automobile was almost upon him when strong +hands jerked him safely to one side. Scrambling to his feet, Mitchell +turned to look at the man whose strength and quickness had saved him +from a nasty accident. + +"Much obliged, Captain Miller," he said. "I owe you a great deal." + +Miller stooped over and picked up the detective's hat. "Why don't you +chaps arrest such speeders?" he inquired, pointing to the vanishing car. + +"We do in most cases," returned Mitchell, brushing the mud from his +trousers, and limping back to the sidewalk. "However, the driver of that +car is exempt." + +"Why?" + +"We can't arrest a United States Senator." + +"Ah, then you got his number." Miller led the way to the sidewalk. + +"That car doesn't need a number to identify it," grumbled Mitchell. "Its +color and shape are too distinctive. We on the force call it the 'Yellow +Streak.' The car belongs to Senator Randall Foster; when he's at the +wheel, the Lord help the pedestrians!" + +"So it would seem," dryly. "Where are you going, Mitchell?" observing +the detective's rather shaken appearance. + +"To the Municipal Building." + +"Suppose you come and lunch with me first at the Occidental," and the +smile which accompanied the invitation was very persuasive. "It's near +where you are going." + +Mitchell had not lunched, and a hurried breakfast had been consumed +before six o'clock. It was his hunger which had occasioned his haste to +reach the Municipal Building and later a near-by cafe. His official +business was not very pressing, and since meeting Miller at the +Whitneys' two days before, he had heard of his attentions to Kathleen +Whitney. The rumor had interested him as much as Miller's personality. +Promptly he accepted Miller's invitation, and the two men boarded the +next downtown car. + +Within a short time they were both eating an appetizing lunch in the +attractive restaurant of the Occidental. Just before the arrival of +coffee and cheese, Mitchell sat back in his chair with a sigh of physical +content. The Martini had warmed his chilled body, and the lassitude which +comes after a hearty meal was stealing over him. Miller had proved an +agreeable companion, able to talk upon any subject--except one, in spite +of the detective's hints in its direction. Their table was in one corner +apart from the others, and there was no danger of their conversation +being overheard. Taking in their isolated position at a glance, the +detective changed his tactics. + +"I saw you at the Spencer inquest," he said abruptly, applying a match to +his cigar. "What do you think of the verdict?" + +"What every sane man thinks," answered Miller. "That the prosecution will +have to secure more material and tangible proof before it can secure an +indictment by the Grand Jury." + +"I'm not so certain of that," responded the detective, ruffled by +Miller's casual manner. "Our evidence against Miss Whitney was pretty +conclusive." + +"It would have been just as conclusive if applied to any other inhabitant +of the Whitney house that night." + +"Hardly." Mitchell smiled broadly. "I fear your friendship blinds you to +the danger in which Miss Whitney stands." + +Miller refrained from answering until their waiter had served the coffee +and cheese and departed. "Circumstantial evidence will not always +convict--fortunately," he said, helping himself to the Camembert. "What +have you proved...." + +"That Spencer was Miss Whitney's rejected lover," broke in Mitchell. +"That the knife belonged to her; that she tried to remove incriminating +blood stains on his shirt with her perfumed handkerchief; and that he +held in his hand a flower, possibly broken from the bouquet which she was +wearing at the time." + +"It sounds formidable," commented Miller quietly. "But there are a number +of flaws. You have _not_ absolutely proved that the knife belonged to +Miss Whitney, only proved that it is probable she might have owned it. +Wait"--as Miller started to interrupt. "The deputy coroner testified that +Spencer was killed by cyanide of potassium." + +"Which, as Spencer did not swallow it, was administered by aid of the +knife," retorted Mitchell hastily. + +"The deputy coroner said he found no trace of the poison on the knife +blade." Miller paused to refill Mitchell's coffee cup. "Secondly, +cyanide of potassium is not a drug which Miss Whitney would be apt to +have around." + +"I saw a half-filled bottle of it in Whitney's work-shop last Wednesday." + +"Quite true, I saw it there myself," admitted Miller. "I also saw that +Whitney kept his studio workshop under lock and key." + +"To outsiders; but it is just possible he is not so strict about the +members of his household, his testimony to the contrary," argued +Mitchell. "The point is not well taken, Captain, and even if it were," he +stirred his coffee thoughtfully, "Miss Whitney did not need to enter her +father's workshop to secure the cyanide of potassium; I find she buys all +his photographic supplies at a shop not far from here, and recently +purchased a new supply of cyanide." + +"Purely circumstantial evidence," responded Miller, keeping his +expression unaltered by an effort. The detective's last statement had +startled him. "In regard to the flower which Spencer held in his hand: +you say it was probably broken from the bouquet which she wore at the +time of committing the crime--I am, for the sake of argument only, +admitting that she might be guilty. The medical evidence went to prove +that Spencer was killed between three and four in the morning; it is +straining probabilities to claim that a young girl, in donning her +wrapper, pinned on a bouquet of flowers." + +"How do you know she was not fully dressed? It was not so late in the +morning; she could have gone to bed after the crime, or she may not have +gone to bed at all." + +"All supposition," scoffed Miller. + +"Not quite all." The detective, nettled by his jeering smile, spoke +hastily. "On further inquiry I learned from one of the servants +today that Miss Whitney had on the same dress Wednesday morning, +when her screams aroused the household, which she wore at dinner the +night before." + +"Ah, indeed?" Miller's smile had ceased to be skeptical, it was strained. +"And which servant imparted that information to you?" + +"Henry, the chauffeur." + +"For a chauffeur, Henry seems to know a great deal about what transpires +inside the Whitney house," observed Miller thoughtfully. "Tell me, +Mitchell, what motive do you attribute to Miss Whitney for the killing of +Sinclair Spencer?" + +Mitchell looked uncomfortable, and it was not until Miller repeated his +question that he spoke. "I believe Spencer persuaded Miss Whitney to meet +him clandestinely that night, and threatened to compromise her if she +refused again to marry him." + +"Oh, come!" Miller spoke more roughly than he realized. "Wake up, +Mitchell; you've been reading penny dreadfuls. Try and think up a motive +which will hold water." + +The detective flushed. "That is quite motive enough," he said. "If Miss +Whitney takes the stand in her own defense she can, on that motive, enter +a plea of killing to protect her honor...." + +"And any jury in the country would acquit her," broke in Miller. "She +would...." + +"Thus escape the gallows," finished the detective. + +"But I can suggest an even better solution of the problem," put in Miller +suavely, although his fingers itched to choke his companion. + +"And that is--?" + +"That the detective force find the guilty party." + +Mitchell suppressed a smile. "And where would you suggest that we hunt +for this guilty party?" he asked. "Provided he or she is still at large, +and not out on bail under indictment." + +"Search among the men and women who spent Wednesday night at the +Whitneys', servants as well as guests." + +"Captain," in his earnestness Mitchell leaned across the table, "it is +contrary to all records of crime that a man or woman will commit murder +without motive...." + +"You forget homicidal maniacs." + +"True, but they do not belong in this category," protested Mitchell. +"No person in that house, except Miss Whitney, had a motive for +killing Spencer." + +"Motives are not always on the surface; I advise you to investigate ..." + +"Yes--?" eagerly. + +"Is it true that arc lights have been installed at the United States +navy yards and arsenals, which make them as light as day on the +darkest night?" + +"I believe so." Mitchell glanced perplexedly at his companion. Why was he +changing the conversation? + +"And that visitors are not encouraged to loiter on government +reservations?" + +"I believe such an order has been issued," conceded the detective. + +"Also visitors are forbidden at the Government Radio Station at +Arlington?" + +"Yes." + +"And still there is a leak--government secrets are secrets no longer." + +"How do you know that, Captain?" and the detective shot a look full of +suspicion at him. + +"I only know what Senator Foster has told me," carelessly. "I believe +Foster's advice has been sought in the matter." + +"And why did he confide in you?" + +"He desired my help," responded Miller. "Seemed to think my opinion might +be worth something, but, honestly, Mitchell, I can't see anything to this +secret leak business--the Secret Service operatives are putting a scare +over on the government. + +"It's more than that, sir. No more coffee," and the detective, his sudden +doubts dispelled by Miller's sunny smile, leaned back once more in his +chair. "It seems that officials here are awakening to the realization +that government secrets are being betrayed. If the American troops are +ordered to a certain point on the border, the order is known in Mexico +before it is executed. It is the same with coded communications to +Foreign Powers. The movements of our fleet are known to foreign naval +attaches even before the maneuvers are carried out. The whereabouts of +the smallest torpedo boat and submarine is no secret--to any but the +American people." + +"Is that so?" Miller looked politely incredulous. "And is the Secret +Service not investigating the matter?" + +"Sure; they'll handle it all right." Mitchell twisted about in his chair. +"At present, Captain, my entire attention is claimed by the Spencer +murder. Where would you suggest that I begin my search among Whitney's +household for a motive which will explain the murder?" + +"Why not try and find Julie, the French maid?" + +The eagerness died out of Mitchell's face. "We are trying," he said. "But +we can convict Miss Whitney without her evidence." + +"So you think Julie's testimony will implicate Miss Whitney still further +in the crime?" + +"I do. I have no doubt she is accessory after the fact, and, provided +with funds by Miss Whitney, stole away so as not to give evidence +against her." + +"You have a curious conception of human nature, Mitchell," was Miller's +only comment as he signed to their waiter to bring his check. He did not +speak again until he and the detective were in the street. "You have +overlooked a very important point, Mitchell, in your investigation of +Spencer's murder." + +"What is that?" + +"You apparently believe that Miss Whitney murdered Spencer between three +and four in the morning and then went back to her bedroom ..." + +"Go on," urged Mitchell. + +"At the inquest all witnesses testified that Miss Whitney was the first +to find Spencer and that she was in the elevator with him." Miller spoke +with impressiveness. "Even the most hardened criminal would not have +deliberately walked into that elevator and shut himself in with the man +he had murdered a short time before--and yet, you argue that a highly +strung, delicately nurtured girl did exactly that. It's preposterous!" + +"It does sound cold-blooded," admitted the detective. "It is just +possible that after committing the crime, she lost consciousness and +remained in the elevator all night...." + +"Talk sense!" ejaculated Miller disgustedly and, without waiting to hear +the detective's thanks for his luncheon, turned on his heel and hurried +up Fourteenth Street. Mitchell watched his tall, erect figure out of +sight with absorbed attention. + +"I'd give a lot to know who he suspects murdered Spencer," he muttered +under his breath, and started for the Municipal Building. + +As Miller approached his hotel, he thought he saw Foster's yellow touring +car move away from the ladies' entrance. After procuring his mail he went +at once to his room. He was about to open his letters when his eyes fell +on an open drawer of his desk. Putting down the bundle in his hand, he +carefully investigated every pigeonhole and drawer. The papers he looked +for were missing. + +Rising quickly, Miller examined the windows of his room and bathroom. +They were securely fastened on the inside. In deep thought he went out +into the hall to where the floor chambermaid and a companion were sitting +in full view of his door. + +"Have you been here long?" he asked. + +"Yes, sir," replied the elder girl. "I've been on duty here ever +since noon, and Mary," laying her hand on her companion, "was here +all the morning." + +"Has either of you seen anyone enter my bedroom?" + +"No, sir, only yourself, sir," answered the first speaker, and Mary +echoed her words. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +THE AWAKENING + + +The prospect was uninviting at any time and to Julie, who had stared at +the rows of slatternly kept backyards until she grew familiar with each +battered garbage can, the sight was hateful. The rain had driven even the +starved alley cats to cover, and with a sigh forlorn in its wretchedness, +she turned from the window and contemplated her nicely furnished bedroom. +The two days she had been there had passed on leaden feet. Captain +Miller's money had secured her a haven of refuge--food and a roof over +her head--but had deprived her of liberty and the daily newspaper. The +first had been the only restriction he had placed upon her acceptance of +his bounty. His plea--protect Kathleen--had found a ready echo in her +loyal heart, and blindly she had obeyed him. + +The first day had passed in numb resignation, then had followed the +reaction. As she recovered from bodily fatigue there came a quickening of +the blood, and in spite of the cold driving rain, a longing for the +out-of-doors possessed her. + +Since the breaking out of the great world war, with its invasion of +Belgium and her beloved France, she had become an inveterate newspaper +reader, and during the days of "extras" she had formed the habit of +depending upon them. From day to day, month to month, she had followed +the ever shifting, always fighting forces on the firing line, and her +knowledge of the situation in Europe would have shamed some of the +students of the times. Her own personal loss and agonizing sorrow had +been engulfed in her acceptance of the world's tragedy, but it had made +adamantine her desire to serve France. + +Forty-eight hours had passed and she had not seen a daily paper. She had +asked her landlady, Mrs. Robinson, for the loan of her _Star_, only to be +told that Mrs. Robinson never took it. She had thereupon presented her +with three cents and asked her to secure the morning papers. But Mrs. +Robinson, on her return from market earlier in the day, had forgotten to +comply with her request. The one servant, when appealed to in the hall, +had promised to get her an evening _Times_, but on inquiry, Mrs. Robinson +had informed her that the woman had finished her work and gone home. + +What was happening in Europe? Had the Allies attempted the drive hinted +at during the winter months? Had Italy cast her lot with the Allies? +Julie's restlessness increased as each question remained unanswered. From +whom could she get a newspaper? Mrs. Robinson had assured her that she +was the only boarder in the house, and on the one occasion on which she +had left her room, she had seen no one but the servant. The latter had +gone out, and Mrs. Robinson had not responded to her call ten minutes +before. Julie sighed again and gazed wearily out over the backyards; then +a thought came to her. Why not go to a front window and hail a newsboy; +there might be one in the vicinity? + +With brightened eyes Julie left her room and, walking down the hall, +turned the knob of the door opposite her own. It would not open. +Bethinking herself, Julie rapped timidly on the door panel; then +receiving no reply, she rapped again. No voice nor footstep responded to +the summons; apparently the room was empty. Considerably perplexed, Julie +turned and made her way to the second bedroom floor. Quickly she rapped +at each closed door and tried its knob. Each door was locked and her +repeated raps went unanswered. In the fourth floor she met with the same +results, and, returning again to the stairs, she made her way down them +almost at a run. + +The silent and apparently empty house frightened her, and it was with a +fast beating heart that she made her way to the ground floor and into +the drawing-room. Its sumptuous furnishings astounded her. Mrs. Robinson +had neither the air nor the well-dressed appearance of a woman of +wealth. From her swarthy skin and black eyes and hair Julie had taken +her for a Creole. + +The stair door leading to the basement was not locked, and Julie laid a +hesitating hand on it. Should she seek Mrs. Robinson in the kitchen? +Almost without her own volition she released her hold on the knob and +retraced her steps to the front door. She needed air; the silent house +was getting on her nerves. She suddenly remembered the noises she had +heard in the night and which, in the morning, she had attributed to her +feverish condition. + +Noiselessly she removed the night latch and slipped into the vestibule. +She stood for a moment filling her lungs with the cold refreshing air, +then bethinking herself, stepped behind the closed section of the outer +door. She must not be seen by a chance policeman. As she stepped back her +foot encountered a small bundle, and she looked down. Joy of joys I It +was a folded newspaper. As she opened it she saw in the dim light of dusk +the red letter stamping: "Subscriber's copy." What had Mrs. Robinson +meant by telling her she did not take newspapers? + +Not pausing to worry further over that problem, she hastily scanned the +first page of the five-thirty edition of the _Times_; and her eyes +dilated as she read the scare headings: + +SPENCER'S WILL OFFERED FOR PROBATE + +KATHLEEN WHITNEY, CONVICTED BY CORONER'S JURY, IS RESIDUARY LEGATEE OF +MURDERED CLUBMAN + +SOCIETY GIRL OUT ON BAIL FURNISHED BY SENATOR FOSTER + +Too stunned to move or cry out, Julie stared dumbly at the newspaper. +Kathleen Whitney, her kind friend rather than employer, was +convicted--then her absence had not benefited her? Captain Miller's +advice had been wrong. Her faith in him was misplaced. To what had he +brought her? She cast a terrified look at the partly closed door behind +her. Better jail than--The thought of jail brought her whirling senses +back to Kathleen. But Kathleen was not in jail; the paper stated that she +was out on bail. If at home, she could be reached. + +Utterly regardless of her hatless condition, she dragged the shawl, +previously borrowed from Mrs. Robinson, over her head, and closing the +front door, bolted up the street, the newspaper still clutched in her +hand. Darkness was closing in, and the rain had driven the few +pedestrians usually in that location scurrying to their homes. Julie was +five or more blocks from the Robinson house when she saw a yellow touring +car draw up to the opposite curb and a man spring out. He paused for a +second to examine one of the lamps and its light threw his face in bold +relief against the darkness. It was Henry, the chauffeur. Julie shrank +back behind a tree-box, muffling her face in the friendly shawl. But the +precaution was unnecessary, for Henry did not glance toward her as he +hastened around the touring car and entered a near-by house. + +For some seconds Julie stood peering doubtfully in the direction he had +gone. Why was Henry driving a car other than the Whitneys'? Had they, by +chance, discharged him? Or was he up to some particular deviltry? Her +latent distrust of Henry and her suspicions as to his nationality surged +uppermost, and not waiting to count the cost, she darted across the +street and peered into the empty touring car. Opening the door, Julie +climbed into the tonneau and, seating herself on the floor, pulled the +heavy laprobe over her. Thus protected, she sat in the darkened interior +of the car for what seemed an interminable time. The slam of a door and +the sound of approaching footsteps caused her to half rise and peep +through the storm window. At sight of Henry standing by the bonnet +lighting his pipe she sank hastily back and secreted herself under the +laprobe. His pipe drawing to his satisfaction, Henry, with barely a +backward glance into the dark tonneau, stowed himself behind the steering +wheel and started the car up the street. + +Baron Frederic von Fincke looked from his bank book to his companion, a +pleasant-featured, gray-haired man. "The balance is low," he said. + +"I come with unlimited financial credit," and the short, stockily built +man drew from an inside pocket a leather cardcase and passed it to the +Baron, who read its contents carefully before returning it. + +"I am glad you have arrived, Hartzmann," he volunteered. "As a diplomatic +center Washington is dull. I call at the State Department--no news; it is +not in touch with secret history." + +"My dear Baron, what can you expect?" Hartzmann shrugged his shoulders +amusedly. "Trained diplomats do not confide state secrets to a premier +who derives his income from a newspaper and the lecture platform." + +"True. Diplomat and politician are synonymous in America; oil and water +would sooner mix in the Old World." Von Fincke carefully replaced his +bank book in a dispatch-box. "Your friend, Captain von Mueller, has won +many friends during his sojourn in Washington." + +"A brilliant man; he will go far." Hartzmann rubbed his hands with +satisfaction. "His work in England will not be forgotten. He has courage, +and the instinct of the hunter; he never blunders." + +"High praise," said von Fincke. "I am the more glad to hear it because I +have intrusted a most delicate mission to him--the securing of Whitney's +_latest_ invention"--with peculiar meaning. "My other efforts in that +line having proved failures." Quickly he forestalled the question he saw +coming, "And your plan of campaign, Hartzmann, what of it?" + +"First, let me give you this," taking several papers from his vest +pocket. "It is a list of factories throughout the United States supplying +munitions of war to the Allies. You may find it useful." + +"Thanks." Von Fincke read the paper with minute care before placing it +inside his dispatch-box. "A concerted movement has been commenced by us +to secure a majority control of many of these plants." + +"In several instances it is planned to buy the great gun and munition +factories outright," explained Hartzmann. "Our agents are already trying +to engage the output of munitions until 1916, so that even if the United +States requires powder and high explosives, it will be impossible to +supply the Government." + +"Anything, anything to stop the supply going to the Allies." Von Fincke +emphasized his words with a characteristic gesture. + +"Our work is already telling." Hartzmann carefully replaced several +papers in an inside pocket. "In Russia, the men of the first Russian +reserve have to wait before engaging the enemy until the Russian soldiers +in the outer trenches are _dead_ so as to get their guns and ammunition +to fight with." + +"Excellent!" and von Fincke beamed with pleasure. + +"I shall instigate strikes in the munitions factories," continued +Hartzmann. "Tell me, how have you succeeded with the passports?" + +Von Fincke's expression changed. "Not so well as I hoped. The Secret +Service are active in investigating all that are issued. It is difficult +to circulate them under such espionage." + +"It is risky," agreed Hartzmann. "Our agents have opened headquarters in +New York. We hope to destroy by means of fire bombs British ships +clearing from American ports." + +"If that is accomplished, it will lend material aid to our war zone +policy," exulted von Fincke. + +"And later on we hope to establish the American seaports as bases for a +fleet of naval auxiliaries, loaded with supplies for our swift submarines +and cruisers. I am making arrangements for taking care of the necessary +clearance papers." + +"Excellent!" ejaculated von Fincke for the second time, and opened a +notebook which he took from his dispatch-box. "Our reservists in this +country report regularly. Under the guise of rifle clubs they keep +themselves in excellent practice. Bodies of them are unobtrusively +seeking employment along the Canadian border." + +"Well done; it is a wise move." Hartzmann helped himself to a cigar. +"What about this Spencer mystery, Baron? As our agent in Mexican affairs +he received a small fortune. Does not his death come at a most +unfortunate moment?" + +Von Fincke pursed up his lips. "No. Spencer was a good tool, but +sometimes too inquisitive; however, I shall not be sorry if Miss Whitney +receives the full penalty for her crime." The two men regarded each other +in silence for a brief second, then von Fincke added: "From reports which +have reached me, I judge the mine is well laid, and Mexico will yet prove +troublesome to her northern neighbor." + +"And useful to us," mused Hartzmann. "The United States when angry with +Germany will make war--on Mexico." + +"Perhaps," skeptically, "but to me it appears intervention in Mexico will +hang fire until ..." + +"Engineered," Hartzmann smiled meaningly. "Huerta will leave shortly for +the Panama-Pacific Exposition, and then ..." Not completing his sentence, +he pointed to a paragraph near the bottom of the first page of the +_Times_ which lay spread on the table by him. "The Sisters in Unity, I +see, is a strictly neutral organization for peace at any price." + +"The dear ladies!" Mockingly von Fincke's hand rose in salute. "They are +the best propagandists in the country, and Senator Foster proves an able +advocate of peace--when urged by a woman." + +"He is a clever speaker," agreed Hartzmann. + +"Most men in public life have their uses. Have you nothing to report of +the pernicious activities of the United States Government?" + +Without replying von Fincke pressed the button of his electric bell. "Is +Heinrich here?" he asked a moment later as his servant entered. + +"Yes, Baron." + +"Then show him in." Von Fincke turned back to his guest. "A clever man, +Heinrich, and useful. Come in," as a discreet tap sounded on the door; +and the chauffeur, carefully closing the door, saluted. "Any news of the +Atlantic fleet, Heinrich?" + +"Its departure for the Panama-Pacific Exposition at San Francisco via the +Panama Canal has been indefinitely postponed." + +"The Department must have awakened to the fact that if sent there the +fleet would have to return by rail," growled von Fincke. "There is not +enough coal in California at present to supply the fleet--the battleships +and cruisers could not escape from attack, but might even be captured at +the dock." + +"Have you learned where the fleet will be sent?" asked Hartzmann, +watching the chauffeur narrowly. + +"It is to go to New York for a grand review, Herr Captain." + +"Ah, a mobilization?" + +"No, Herr Captain; I think not. The reserve fleet will be missing." + +"Will the President review the fleet?" + +"It is so believed, Herr Captain." + +Von Fincke, who had been silently eyeing his companions, stood up. +"Would that not give us an opportunity to bottle up the fleet in the +North River by slipping down one of our biggest ocean steamers and +sinking her in the channel?" + +"It might be done," but Hartzmann looked doubtful. "The Harbor Police of +New York are vigilant. I fear the warping of a great steamer from her +berth would attract instant attention." + +"Not if properly engineered, Hartzmann." A soft tap at the door +interrupted von Fincke. "Come in," he called. + +"Captain von Mueller," announced the valet, and von Fincke advanced +eagerly to meet the newcomer. + +"Welcome, Herr Captain. I hoped that you would get my note in time." + +"I found it on my return to the hotel. Hartzmann, well met." Von Mueller +returned the older man's firm clasp. "It is some years...." + +"Years? What are they when old friends foregather," exclaimed Hartzmann. +"Let us sit and talk." + +"Wait, wait," remonstrated von Fincke. "Heinrich," turning to the +chauffeur, who stood respectfully waiting, "did you learn the strength of +the fleet?" + +"Of the thirty-five United States battleships, only twenty-one are in +commission and ready for emergency," he said. "Of these twenty-one three +have broken shafts, and the fourth is a turbine engine battleship, which +needs overhauling." + +"Is this all the fighting strength of the United States navy?" questioned +Hartzmann, jotting down the figures in a notebook. + +"No, Herr Captain; there are seventy fighting craft; but not in +commission and all require overhauling. Half of the submarines will +not--er--'sub,' so to speak." A ghost of a smile crossed Heinrich's lips. +"The complement of torpedo vessels has been reduced from fifteen to +twenty-five per cent, and the Atlantic Fleet needs five thousand men." + +"Interesting data," said von Mueller. "I congratulate you, Heinrich. What +of the army?" + +"Nothing definite to report today, Herr Captain. If rumor speaks truly, +discontent will shortly reduce the standing army to a man and a mule." + +"A mule can fight on occasions," laughed von Mueller. + +"But not against trained men, backed up by field guns firing in one hour +two hundred thousand shells carrying high explosives," boasted Hartzmann +triumphantly. "Weapons such as these, von Mueller, alter the face of +nature as well as the fate of nations." + +"Any further news tonight, Heinrich?" asked von Fincke. + +"No, Baron." The chauffeur saluted. "Any orders?" + +"A moment," broke in von Mueller. "I will be at the Whitney residence +tonight, Heinrich; see that I am admitted," he added, observing the +slight change in the chauffeur's expression. + +"It can be arranged, Herr Captain," hastily. "I was but thinking of +Julie--the French she-devil. Should she come ..." + +"She will not return." Von Mueller spoke with confidence. "I have +convinced her that she will better protect Miss Whitney by remaining in +hiding, thus directing attention to herself as the criminal." + +"But will she not read the papers?" touching the _Times_. + +"No; the landlady will keep them from her." + +"The police are ransacking the town for her," persisted Heinrich. + +"They will not find Julie"--von Mueller lowered his voice. "They never +investigate Robinson's." + +"So!" Von Fincke elevated his eyebrows, and his smile was not pleasant. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +THE FINGER PRINT + + +Kathleen Whitney breathed inward thanks when dinner was over. It had been +a trying ordeal on top of an agonizing day. Cloistered in her room with +only her sad thoughts for company, she had been relieved to find that +Miss Kiametia Grey had been prevailed upon by Mrs. Whitney to prolong her +afternoon visit to include a family dinner. But the spinster's endeavor +to divert her by relating society gossip finally palled, and! she +permitted her thoughts to stray to other scenes. + +"Did you receive your invitation to the Morton reception, Kathleen?" +asked Miss Kiametia, breaking off her conversation with Mrs. Whitney with +her customary abruptness, and startling Kathleen back to the present. + +"Yes--no; I don't know," was her confused reply. + +"It is here." Mrs. Whitney went into the library and returned with a +large envelope. + +"What night?" Miss Kiametia took the card and examined its heavily +embossed surface with interest. "_Nouveau riche_ stamped all over it, as +well as R.S.V.P.--'Real Slick Vittles, People,'" and she laughed +disdainfully. + +"A11 the trimmings." Mrs. Whitney replaced the card in its envelope. "I +have written our regrets. I understand the reception is given to announce +the engagement of Mona Morton to some South American Monte Cristo." + +"Speaking of engagements," Whitney turned to the spinster, "what about +you and Randall Foster, Kiametia?" + +"I shall never marry." Miss Kiametia's half bantering tone dropped, and +the eyes she turned to Kathleen were shadowed with a haunting regret. +"The habits of a life-time cannot be broken." + +"Oh, Kiametia!" exclaimed Mrs. Whitney in open disappointment. "Senator +Foster is splendid--and I had hoped--_why_ do you discourage his +attentions?" + +"Can't stand the way he wears his hair," announced Miss Kiametia with an +air of finality which warned against further discussion. + +"Marry him and make him change his barber," advised Whitney rising. "I +have to go out, Minna; you and Kathleen must not wait up for me. Good +night, Kiametia; Henry is downstairs, he can take you home in the car, +if you wish. See you tomorrow," and he moved toward the door. After a +brief hesitation Kathleen followed him into the hall. + +"Must you go out, Dad?" she asked helping him with his overcoat. "It is +still stormy tonight, and I feel lonely"--her voice broke, and turning +Whitney impulsively took her in his arms. + +"My darling little girl." He stopped and steadied his voice as he kissed +her tenderly. "There, don't worry, trust old Dad to put things +straight--as he did your broken dollies. Go early to bed, dear, and get +some rest." + +"Rest!" Kathleen strove to suppress all trace of bitterness. "Now, don't +have me on your mind; come home early," and she returned his kiss and +went slowly back into the drawing-room, as the front door closed after +her father. + +"We are going up to my boudoir, Kathleen; won't you come, dear?" asked +Mrs. Whitney. + +"Not just now, mother; I want to talk to Vincent when he gets the table +cleared away." + +"I envy you, Vincent," chimed in Miss Kiametia. "Such an excellent +servant. Oh, Minna, don't go to the elevator; suppose we walk upstairs." + +Left by herself Kathleen went in search of Vincent. He was not in the +pantry, but judging by the still unwashed dishes that he was probably +eating his supper in the kitchen, she refrained from calling him +upstairs, and walked listlessly back into the drawing-room. + +Sick at heart, utterly discouraged, she threw herself down on the large +sofa and sank back among the pillows. Throughout the long day she had +tried to banish all thought of Charles Miller. It was hopeless; his image +was in her heart as well as before her mental vision. To some women it is +given to love lightly, tasting but the essence, while to others love is a +lifetime of steadfast devotion. And that winter had brought to Kathleen +her one great passion; for weal or for woe she had given her heart to +Charles Miller, and she must drain the cup to the bitter dregs. + +With the gradual awakening to the belief that Charles Miller was really a +blackguard, a--she shuddered, and raised her hands as if to ward off an +overwhelming horror. And he had dared to approach her that morning with +loving words on his lips. His eyes had met hers frankly--there had been +no effort to avoid, no show of fear--no, he was only facing a loyal +woman. Kathleen choked back a moan. Truly, he understood the art of +dissimulation. If she had not known of his duplicity, of his guilt, his +expression as he addressed her that morning would have proclaimed him +innocent of all wrongdoing. His expression, ah, it had been that which +had sowed a little seed of hope in her heart. Perhaps she could sketch +his face as he appeared that morning, again catch the expression that +inspired confidence in spite of all. + +She sat bolt upright and glanced eagerly about for a scrap of paper and a +pencil. The white back of a magazine on a lamp table caught her eye and +she went toward it. By the lamp lay Miss Kiametia's gold mesh purse, +vanity box, and pencil. Kathleen snatched up the dangling baubles and the +magazine and returned to the sofa. If only she could get her impression +down on paper before remembrance faded! She could copy it at her leisure. +She jerked feverishly at the gold pencil, and as she pulled it out laid +its point on the white paper--and then sat petrified. It was a hypodermic +needle. Some seconds passed before she moved; then she raised the gold +cylinder--outwardly it resembled a pencil, inside were concealed the +syringe and needle. With anxious haste she manipulated its delicate +mechanism, and slipped back the needle to its hiding place. + +Forgotten for the moment was her own problem. Brilliant, gifted Kiametia +Grey a drug fiend--Oh, the pity of it! In the light of her discovery +Kathleen remembered many idiosyncrasies which the drug habit would +explain; often that winter she had found Miss Kiametia dozing in her +chair at the theater, at dinners, in motors, but had put it down to +over-fatigue from too much social gayety. Miss Kiametia's variable likes +and dislikes, her sudden whims and fancies, her irritability--all were +traceable to the same cause. + +The sound of her name caused Kathleen to raise her head with a start. +Henry, the chauffeur, was standing just inside the hall door. + +"Beg pardon, Miss Kathleen," he said. "Mrs. Whitney wished me to tell you +that Miss Grey will spend the night here and has retired to her bedroom. +And I was to ask you if you had any orders for the motor tomorrow." + +"No, none, thanks. As you go downstairs, tell Vincent that I wish +to see him." + +"Vincent has gone, Miss Kathleen." Meeting her quick glance, he added, +"It is his evening out." + +"Oh! Please ask Rosa to stop in my room before she goes to bed." + +"Very good, Miss Kathleen." As he turned to leave, the loud buzz of the +front doorbell sounded. Not waiting to hear the directions Kathleen +called after him, Henry darted into the hall. + +Picking up Miss Kiametia's gold purse and the hypodermic needle, Kathleen +replaced them on the table, but halfway to the hall door she hesitated. +Should she not take them to Miss Kiametia? Suppose Henry, for instance, +should take it into his head to examine them? At the thought Kathleen's +face hardened, and she returned to pick up Miss Kiametia's property. +Henry's voice from the doorway arrested her. + +"Captain Miller," he announced, and retired. + +Kathleen stood as if carved from stone, every vestige of color +stricken from her. If her life had depended upon it, she could not +have turned around. + +"Have you no word for me?" asked the familiar voice, and Miller stepped +in front of her, his wistful eyes pleading for him. But Kathleen was +mute. Slowly, unwillingly his eyes dropped before her level gaze and +rested finally on the gold baubles in her hand. "Why do you not wear my +ring, Kathleen?" + +The question stung her out of the bewildered trance into which his +unexpected appearance had thrown her. + +"The ring was returned to you for good and sufficient reasons," she said +icily. "That you choose to ignore these reasons does not affect the +issue. Will you leave this house, or shall I ring for the servant?" + +"Kathleen, are you mad?" He whitened to the lips. "Think what you are to +me, dearly beloved; your words cut me like a knife." + +"Your similes are unfortunate," she stammered, with dry lips. "I do not +use knives. I leave that for others, the coroner's jury to the contrary." + +"Do you think the coroner's jury influenced my judgment, sweetheart? +Shame--I have more faith than you. I know that you are innocent of +Spencer's death." + +"You have every reason to know that I am innocent." Kathleen was +thoroughly roused. "It is not a question of faith on your part," +significantly. "I see no use in these discussions. It is better that we +do not meet. Again I ask you to go--forever." + +Without replying he turned and paced the room rapidly, hands in pocket, +head bent forward. Kathleen watched him with burning eyes and aching +heart. To outward seeming he had the attributes which make for success. +What mad blood-lust had made him throw the world away? + +"Suppose I accede to your unreasonable request, Kathleen," he said, +stopping before her. "Will you do something for me?" + +"Yes," huskily. + +"Then get from your father the specifications and drawings of his latest +invention for me." + +As if she had not heard aright, Kathleen stared at him. + +"Wh-what is it you ask?" she stammered. + +"The plans of your father's _latest_ invention," patiently. "I do not +mean the camera." + +"Either you or I are mad," she looked at him dazedly. "Do you realize +that my father would not give me those plans--that I should have to +steal them." + +"Expediency knows no law," he muttered, not meeting her eyes. "Call it +borrowing." Kathleen shrank back appalled. + +"Good God! That you should be so base!" she cried. "For more than +forty-eight hours I have closed my eyes to reason; deluded myself that +you acted from temporary mental aberration--that Sinclair Spencer's death +was unpremeditated. My impulse was to help--to save. Ah, you wooed me +well this winter." Her voice broke and she drew a long quivering breath. +"It is a pitiful thing to kill a woman's love. Some day, perhaps, I shall +be grateful to you. Go!" + +He flinched at the scorn in her voice, but stood his ground +doggedly. "Not until I get the drawings and specifications of the +invention," he answered. + +The slamming of the front door caused Kathleen to look in that +direction, and Henry's entrance the next instant stayed the words on her +parted lips. + +"A special delivery for you, Miss Kathleen," he said, "from the State +Department." + +Kathleen took the proffered envelope mechanically. + +"Wait, Henry," steadying her voice. "When Captain Miller calls again, he +is not to be admitted, under any pretense." + +"Very good, Miss Kathleen," and concealing his curiosity, the chauffeur +moved swiftly away. + +There was a pause which Miller broke. "Read your letter," he said +composedly. "I can wait." + +Kathleen was on the point of collapse; desperately she clung to her +remnant of composure. Hardly conscious of her action, she tore open the +outer envelope, and read the brief statement that the letter inclosed had +been sent to her, care of the Department of State. With some stirring of +curiosity not unmixed with dread, she examined the contents of the second +envelope. It read: + +"United Service Club, + +"London, England. + +"MY DEAR MISS WHITNEY: + +"I send the inclosed, forwarded to me by Major Seymour, who was until +recently a prisoner in Germany. My nephew, John Hargraves, was killed in +action. + +"Very truly yours, + +"Percival Hargraves." + +John dead! Her loyal friend dead--and killed in action! Through a blur of +tears Kathleen read the stained scrap of paper inclosed in the +Englishman's note: + +"DEAR KATHLEEN: + +"I saw Karl in London at Victoria Station. I swear it was he--warn +Uncle--Kathleen ... Kathleen...." + +Shaken with grief Kathleen raised her head and looked at her companion +sitting immovable in his chair. If he felt any interest in the letter +and her emotion, he did not evince it. Three years before, he, she, and +John Hargraves had been friends in Germany. John, the soul of honor, +loyal and unselfish in his friendship, had laid down his young life for +his country. His last dying word had been of her--to warn her.... +Kathleen stood erect, wrath drying the tears which affection had +brought. John had seen Karl in London in war times; there was but one +answer to the puzzle. + +"Captain Karl von Mueller," she said cuttingly, "to use the name by which +I knew you abroad, do you wish my father's invention for Germany?" + +"I do." Rising quietly, he faced her, stern and unyielding. "Why +dissemble any longer? Your father promised to sell it to us; then went +back on his given word. In handing me the invention you will but redeem +his pledge." + +"You have a strange conception of honor." Her eyes were blazing with +fury. "Your statement about my father is open to doubt. Captain von +Mueller, I give you forty-eight hours to leave this country before I +denounce you as a German spy." + +"Really?" His slow smile of unbelief caused her to writhe inwardly. "Do +you think the unsupported statement of a woman suspected of murder will +find credence?" Kathleen clenched John Hargraves' letter until her +knuckles shone white under the taut skin. "Secondly," he continued in the +same quiet tone, "you speak tonight only of this winter. Have you +forgotten our relationship in Germany?" + +"That is hardly the term for it," she said proudly. "I met you at the +house of a German schoolmate ..." + +"And our friendship rapidly ripened into love," he said softly, never +removing his gaze from her bloodless face. "Our walks in the meadows +about Berlin, our elopement ..." + +"But not our marriage," she burst in. "John Hargraves can testify that I +left you." + +"John Hargraves is dead." + +"True," she could hardly articulate. "But we were not married." + +"Quite so; that is my point--_I_ did not _marry_ you." + +Kathleen swayed upon her feet and threw out her hand blindly for support. +"You cur! you despicable cur!" she gasped. "Don't touch me." But though +she shrank from him, his strong hand steadied her toward the hall door. + +"Washington society is surfeited with scandal," he said. "When more +composed think of your father's latest invention." + +If she heard him she gave no sign. Mental torture had exhausted her +emotion. She never raised her head as he guided her to the staircase; her +eyes stared only at his open right hand. + +The house was dark except for the hall light burning dimly, when Winslow +Whitney inserted his latchkey and entered the front door. Removing hat +and overcoat, he made his way noiselessly to his studio in the attic. +With cautious movement he fingered the locks on his door. Would Miller's +plan for catching Spencer's murderer work out? According to their +arrangement he had left the door insecurely fastened. + +Just as he was about to creep into the room, he heard distinctly in the +stillness a whispered word in a voice his keen ear instantly recognized. +All idea of caution forgotten, he threw open the door and switched on the +electric light. To outward appearances the room was empty. + +Darting over to where he kept his secret papers, he lifted a powerful +Mazda lamp, the better to scan the prepared paper left where an +incautious thief would be obliged to rest his hand with some degree of +force. Under the powerful light the finger prints stood out distinct and +clear. But with eyes starting from his head, Whitney paused to snatch up +a magnifying glass, and by its aid examined the finger prints minutely. + +"It's--his--finger print--but the voice, my God! the voice.... Kathleen, +Kathleen!" A gurgle choked his utterance, and the magnifying glass +clattered beside him as he fell inertly on the floor. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +"TRENTON HURRY" + + +Charles Miller, completing a hurried toilet, paused at the sound of a +sharp rap on his bedroom door. + +"Come in," he called. "Ah, Henry, good morning," as the chauffeur stepped +briskly over the threshold. The latter's white face and agitated manner +indicated that he was the bearer of portentous news. Miller made a hasty +step in his direction. + +"Kathleen--is she ill?" he asked. + +The chauffeur looked to see that the bedroom door was securely fastened +before he answered. + +"It isn't Miss Kathleen," he answered cautiously. "Mr. Whitney has had +a stroke." + +"What?" Miller recoiled. "When?" + +"Some time last night." + +"Will he recover?" + +"Dr. McLane says that he cannot tell yet, Herr Captain. He was alive but +still unconscious when I left the house to come here." + +"What"--Miller looked anxiously at the chauffeur--"what brought on the +stroke? Mr. Whitney appeared to be in robust health when I saw him last." + +"The Doctor seemed to think it was caused by sudden shock, Herr Captain." +Henry stepped closer. "Miss Kiametia Grey found Mr. Whitney in his studio +lying on the floor unconscious." + +"Miss Grey found him!" Miller's eyes opened wide in astonishment. + +"Yes, Herr Captain; at four o'clock in the morning," with significant +emphasis, and the two men looked at each other. + +"And what was Miss Grey doing in the attic at that hour of the morning?" + +"She said she had gone upstairs to see Rosa, the cook, who was suffering +from a bilious attack early in the evening." + +"But," perplexedly, "if I remember correctly, Rosa testified at the +inquest that the servants' bedrooms are not in the attic but on the +floor beneath." + +"They are, Herr Captain. On answering the bell from Mr. Whitney's studio +I found Miss Grey there trying to revive him." + +"You answered the bell at four in the morning?" in surprise. "I +understood you did not sleep at the Whitneys'." + +"Nor do I, Herr Captain; but last night I took Vincent's place and +occupied his bedroom. When I reached the studio, I at first thought Mr. +Whitney dead," continued the chauffeur, after a slight pause, "and rushed +to summon a physician. On his arrival I assisted him to carry Mr. Whitney +to his bedroom." + +"Did you see Miss Kathleen?" + +"Not after giving her the special delivery letter"--Henry's sidelong +glance escaped Miller's attention--"when you were with her in the +drawing-room; but I did hear her talking to Mrs. Whitney and the nurse in +her father's bedroom just before I left the house to come here." + +"Keep me informed of what transpires at the Whitneys'," directed Miller, +picking up his coat. + +"Very well, Herr Captain. Permit me to help you." The chauffeur stepped +closer to his side and while assisting him, whispered: "Did you get the +invention?" + +Miller thrust his right arm into the coat sleeve with slow precision, and +his left arm into its sleeve with equal care before answering. + +"Yes." + +"God be praised!" Henry stepped back, his eyes snapping with delight. +"Ah, we will win it yet, that Cross!" he exulted; then cautiously took +from an inside pocket a folded sheet of letter paper and with care +removed from between the pages a piece of paper. "When Miss Grey was +occupied in her effort to revive Mr. Whitney I looked quickly about the +studio," he explained. "This paper caught my eye--and I bring it to you, +Herr Captain." + +"Thanks," laconically, laying the paper down on the desk. "One moment +before you go," and from a well-filled wallet he extracted a treasury +bill whose denomination caused Henry's eyes to beam with pleasure. + +"At service, Herr Captain," he said, saluting. "I will return and +report later." + +"Very well, Henry," and the chauffeur bowed himself out, but on the other +side of the door he hesitated, fingering Miller's tip with satisfaction. + +"He is liberal, that von Mueller," he muttered. "But it is just as well +not to tell him that there were two sheets of finger prints," and he went +whistling down the corridor. + +Tiptoeing to his door, Miller listened for a second, then, convinced that +the chauffeur had moved away, he turned the key in the lock. Going to his +desk, he picked up the sheet of finger prints and studied them long and +attentively; then glanced down at his right hand. Horror lurked in the +depths of his frank eyes. + +"The mark of Cain," he stammered, and opening the silver frame containing +Kathleen Whitney's photograph, he deftly slipped the paper between the +two pieces of cardboard. + + * * * * * + +It was getting toward dusk when Mrs. Whitney stole softly into Kathleen's +bedroom and stood looking down at her as she lay, eyes closed, white face +pillowed on one shapely arm, her breath hardly stirring the laces on her +gown. Convinced that she was asleep, she moved cautiously away, hoping +not to disturb her, but at that moment Kathleen opened her eyes and +raised herself on her elbow. + +"Don't go, dear," she begged. "How is Dad?" + +"Just about the same." Mrs. Whitney carried a chair to the bedside. "It +is too bad to have roused you." + +"I wasn't asleep--only thinking"--drearily--"I am glad you came in. Does +Dr. McLane hold out any hope?" + +"Yes," and Mrs. Whitney's care-worn face brightened. "Is it not +good news?" + +"The very best," Kathleen smiled through her tears. "You must be worn +out," and she stroked the hand on the bed with loving fingers. "You +should take some rest." + +"I am not tired," protested Mrs. Whitney. "The nurse has just come in +from her afternoon constitutional, and I felt that I could leave Winslow +for a little time. Tell me, dear," sinking her voice. "Can you let me +have a hundred dollars?" + +"I would gladly, mother, but I don't believe I have half that amount +left. You are welcome to that, though; my purse is in my desk." + +"Thank you, dear, I'll get it later," but the troubled shadow did not +lift from Mrs. Whitney's pretty face. "Both Vincent and Henry have asked +me for their wages; I have given Henry part ..." + +"Give him the whole, only get rid of him," burst out Kathleen. "I cannot +bear the man." + +"Why, Kathleen! Has he been disrespectful?" + +"N-no, only--I don't trust him." + +"Please, dear, don't excite yourself." Mrs. Whitney noticed with alarm +the hectic flush that dyed Kathleen's white cheeks. "I will fill his +place. Come to think of it, I did not like his manner this morning when +he asked for his wages, and he went out without leave ..." + +"He selected a curious time to make his request, with Dad so ill." + +"Well, you see, my dear," coloring faintly. "I gathered your father has +not paid him recently." + +"Don't believe that story until you have asked Dad." Kathleen choked back +a sob, remembering that her father, her dear father, might never answer +another question, no matter how trivial. "Don't look so worried, mother; +Dad will get better shortly." + +"I pray so." Mrs. Whitney's eyelashes were wet with tears. "Kathleen, did +your father ever speak to you of a note for twenty thousand dollars?" + +"No, never." + +"It comes due next week." Mrs. Whitney looked hopelessly about the room. + +"Surely the bank will hold over the matter until Dad is in a condition to +attend to his affairs?" + +"I sent word to that effect when answering the note teller's letter." + +"Who is the holder of the note?" + +"Sinclair Spencer." With ashy face Kathleen dropped back on her pillow as +if shot. Failing to observe her expression in the semi-dark room, Mrs. +Whitney continued wearily: "In your father's mail today I found a notice +from his bank stating that he had overdrawn his account heavily. It just +happens that my housekeeping allowance is almost exhausted, or I would +never have mentioned the matter to you, Kathleen." + +"I am glad you did, mother; you must not have this responsibility on your +shoulders, in addition to your anxiety for Dad. I have a little money in +the bank, and will turn it over to you tomorrow." + +"Thank you, dear," stooping and kissing her. "My heart is wrung for you, +Kathleen. It is shameful what you have had to go through!" and her eyes +flashed with indignation. + +"Hush!" placing her hand over Mrs. Whitney's mouth. "My affairs sink into +insignificance alongside of Dad's illness." + +"You are such a blessing, Kathleen," squeezing her hand fondly. + +"Then let us forget there is such a thing as money difficulties, and +turn to...." + +"Me!" exclaimed a voice by the door, and Miss Kiametia Grey advanced +further into the room. "I rapped several times but you did not hear...." + +"Do come and sit with us," suggested Kathleen. + +"I will, if you will turn on the light; I can't bear to talk in the dark. +There, that's better," as Kathleen switched on the reading lamp by her +bed. "Before anything further is said," began the spinster, reddening, "I +must confess that I overheard Kathleen mention money difficulties--I +didn't mean to hear it"--hastily--"but I just want to say that I'll be +your banker until Winslow gets better." + +"You dear!" Kathleen sat up and kissed her warmly and Mrs. Whitney, quite +overcome, embraced her with tears in her eyes. + +"What's a friend for if she can't be of use!" Miss Kiametia's manner was +always most brusque when seeking to cover emotion. "Land sakes! I forgot +to tell you that Randall Foster wishes to see you both." + +"Now!" Kathleen looked down at her negligee attire. "Can't he wait until +tomorrow? Dr. McLane said I could get up then." + +"He is very anxious to interview you this evening, Kathleen. Put on this +pretty dressing-gown," and Miss Kiametia picked it up from the couch. +"You help her into it, Minna, while I go and get Randall," and not +waiting for a reply she whisked out of the room, returning a few minutes +later with Senator Foster. + +"I am here under the doctor's order," explained Kathleen, taking his +proffered hand, after he had greeted Mrs. Whitney. "Won't you sit down?" + +"Thank you," muttered Foster, recovering with an effort from the shock +her appearance occasioned him. She looked wretchedly ill, and the hand he +held for a second in his was hot with fever. "I can stay but a minute, +Miss Kathleen. Do you think that tomorrow you can sign some papers in +reference to Sinclair Spencer's will?" + +"Why should I sign any such papers?" in quick surprise. "What have I to +do with his will?" + +"Hasn't your mother told you?" Mrs. Whitney shook her head, and answered +for Kathleen. + +"Winslow said not to mention the matter to Kathleen yesterday, and today +his illness put everything out of my mind," she explained. + +Kathleen looked from one to the other. "What have I to do with his will?" +she repeated. + +"Sinclair Spencer made you residuary legatee." + +"What!" Kathleen sat up, for the moment bereft of further speech. "I +shan't take any legacy left me by him," she announced, passionately. +"Mother, you hear me, _I won't_." + +"Yes, yes, dear," soothingly, and Senator Foster broke in hastily: + +"We understand how you must feel." + +"Feel!" echoed Kathleen. "Did you for one moment suppose I would accept a +penny from Sinclair Spencer or his estate?" and the scorn in her eyes +hurt Foster as she looked at him. + +"The law requires certain formalities," he said hurriedly. "As executor, +I shall have to talk over his will with you, but later will do." + +"Both now and later, I flatly refuse to consider any such bequest he may +have made me," went on Kathleen, unheeding his words as her excitement +increased, and Miss Kiametia hastened to avert the threatened scene. + +"Where were you yesterday afternoon, Randall?" she asked. + +"In Baltimore." Foster flashed her a grateful glance. "I hope you made +use of my car yesterday, Mrs. Whitney; I told Henry to take it out until +yours was repaired." + +"You were very kind; Winslow went out in it." Mrs. Whitney's glance +strayed to the door; she was anxious to return to her husband's bedside. + +"And with your permission, Randall, I'm going to use your car now to take +me home," chipped in Miss Kiametia. + +"Oh, Kiametia, you must not go," protested Mrs. Whitney. "You are such a +comfort--such a help...." + +"Don't go," added Kathleen. "Your presence makes my enforced idleness +here easier to bear." + +"Thank you, my dears." The spinster looked immensely pleased. "Of course +I'll stay, if you really feel you want me." + +"I am the only one bereft," said Foster wistfully. "I cannot call upon +you tonight, Kiametia." + +"Of course you can," exclaimed Mrs. Whitney, smiling faintly. "We are not +so selfish as to keep Kiametia to ourselves all the time. If you will +excuse me, I must go back to Winslow." + +"Certainly." Foster rose and opened the door for her. "I must not stop +longer. Good night, Miss Kathleen, I hope that you will feel better in +the morning." + +"Thanks; please come here just a moment," and reluctantly Foster +approached the bed. He did not wish to resume discussion about +Spencer's will. "Tell me," Kathleen lowered her voice, "when will the +Grand Jury meet?" + +"Not for ten days or more." + +"That is all, thanks," and Foster moved away. At the door he signaled to +Miss Kiametia to step into the hall with him, and after a quick glance at +Kathleen's averted face, the spinster followed him, softly closing the +door behind her. + +As the click of the latch reached her, Kathleen, seeing that she was +alone, leaned over and put out the light. The darkness was pleasant to +her, and she buried her hot hands under her pillows, the better to feel +the cool linen. Soothed by its contact she struggled to reduce her +chaotic thoughts to order. Sinclair Spencer had left her money--Sinclair +Spencer had left her money--the sentence beat in her brain tirelessly. +The idea was as repugnant to her as his personality had been. In life he +had plagued her, and in death he had involved her in conspiracy and +subjected her to cruel suspicion. + +Her father's illness has aroused her from the torpor following Charles +Miller's departure the night before. She writhed even at the recollection +of her scene with him. Again and again she had been on the point of +sending for the police and denouncing him, but remembrance of the +forty-eight hours of grace which she had granted him stayed her impulse. + +He had killed every spark of affection, she assured herself repeatedly; +and then turned and tossed upon her pillows as vivid recollection painted +each happy hour with him that winter. + +A moan broke from her, and at the sound a stealthy figure advancing from +the sitting-room adjoining, stopped dead. Hearing no further sound, the +intruder moved cautiously forward and bent over Kathleen. + +"Mademoiselle!" + +Kathleen's eyes flew open. "Julie! You have come back!" + +"Hush, mademoiselle! Not so loud," and Julie, dropping on her knees by +the bed, laid a warning finger on Kathleen's lips. Reaching out her +hands, the latter clasped the Frenchwoman in a warm embrance, which was +as warmly returned. + +"You have come back," she repeated in a whisper. "Julie, you met +with no harm?" + +"No, mademoiselle." + +"Where have you been?" + +"No matter now, mademoiselle. I spent last night with Vincent's sister, +Marie Tregot. He smuggled me into the house a little while ago. He told +me of all that you have been through. Oh, that I had stayed; but I acted +for the best, mademoiselle." + +"I am sure of that, Julie"--touched by the feeling in the maid's voice. + +"I was misled"--bitterly--"and by one I thought to be +trusted--Captain Miller." + +"Julie! He did not offer...." + +"No, no, mademoiselle"--Kathleen's taut muscles relaxed and she sank +weakly back in bed. "But I have reason to believe that Captain Miller is +not what he seems. Listen, mademoiselle: I was in M. Foster's touring +car--no matter how I came there now--last night. Henry was driving it. He +knew not that I was in the tonneau. When he stopped the car and got out I +watched him enter a residence in Nineteenth Street. I dared not stay +longer in the car, and hid in the vestibule of the house adjoining the +one he had entered. They are what you call semi-detached, and concealed I +was very close at hand. I had been there but a short time when a man ran +up the steps of the next house and I recognized Captain Miller. He +entered and I waited long, oh, so long, when out came Henry and Captain +Miller ..." + +"Well?" prompted Kathleen, as Julie came to a breathless pause. + +"The Captain entered the car with Henry and drove off. After their +departure I rang the bell of the house where I was hiding and asked +the butler who were their next-door neighbors. He said Baron Frederic +von Fincke." + +"Oh, more evidence against him!" Kathleen drew in her breath sharply. + +"Mademoiselle?" But Kathleen did not explain her remark, and Julie +continued hurriedly; "I at first thought to return here at once, but +remembered Marie Tregot. She gave me house room, and I arranged with +Vincent last night to admit me after dark today." + +"But why not come openly, Julie? No one will harm you." + +"Henry is a spy--a traitor--it did not suit my plans to have him know my +whereabouts." + +"But Julie...." + +"Mademoiselle, have patience--bear with me but a little longer--" The +excited Frenchwoman rose and going to both doors locked them. She +returned and switched on the reading lamp. "Quelle horreur! Mademoiselle, +what have these beasts done to you?" she exclaimed, aghast, inspecting +Kathleen in consternation. "They shall pay for every sign of suffering in +your face." + +"Do not let us discuss me," Kathleen sighed wearily. "Will you tell the +police of your suspicions concerning Henry?" + +"No, mademoiselle." Julie's expression changed. "I like not the police +just now. I have a plan of my own." She checked herself abruptly. "Have +you seen the _Star_?" + +"No, Julie." + +"See, it says here"--pointing to a paragraph in a folded sheet torn from +a newspaper which she drew from under her apron--"'Fire at Roebling's +Plant of Incendiary Origin.' Tell me, mademoiselle, what is Roebling's?" + +"A factory near Trenton, New Jersey, which I believe"--Kathleen spoke +somewhat uncertainly--"manufactures insulated as well as barbed wire." + +"Ah, that is used in trench fighting!" The Frenchwoman took from the +bodice of her black gown a crumpled telegram singed at the edges. "Henry +received this but an hour ago. I watched, oh, so carefully. I saw him +turn pale, and such was his haste to leave the house that he did not wait +to see that the paper burned when he threw it in the grate. Can you +translate it for me, mademoiselle?" + +Smoothing out the telegram, Kathleen, with the maid intently peering +over her shoulder, read the words it contained besides the address, in +puzzled silence: + +Trenton, hurry. + +Hartzmann. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +IN FULL CRY + + +Senator Foster, buttoning his overcoat against the March wind, left +Calumet Place and sought his yellow touring car standing at the curb of +an intersecting street near by. He had dispensed with the services of +his chauffeur for that night. Seating himself behind the steering wheel, +he started the machine down Fourteenth Street, so deep in thought that +he barely missed running over two belated pedestrians scurrying to the +sidewalk, and entirely missed the signals of a street-crossing +policeman, who contented himself with a string of curses as he +recognized the yellow car and bullied the next automobile chauffeur as a +slight vent to his feelings. + +As Foster sped by the War, State, and Navy Building he noted the lights +burning in widely separated office rooms and smiled grimly to himself. +Parking the car near the Whitney residence, he made his way to the front +door. Miss Kiametia Grey answered his impatient ring at the bell. + +"A nice hour for you to keep your appointment, and for me to see +attractive men," she grumbled, leading the way to the library. +"Fortunately, I have a reputation for eccentricity--it saves me a great +deal of annoyance, and covers--er--indiscretions." + +"You--the most discreet of women," protested Foster, seating himself on +the sofa by her. "And I have come tonight to confide in you...." + +"Have you?" dryly. "I doubt it; but go ahead"--generous encouragement +in her tone. + +"How is Whitney?" + +"Pulse stronger, but still unconscious. Minna, poor child, insists that +he knows her, and will not permit herself to believe in what I fear is +the inevitable." + +"Perhaps it is better so," compassionately. "What should we do without +hope in this world? I should not be surprised if Kathleen's condition is +graver than her father's." Meeting her surprised look, he tapped his +forehead significantly. "Brain fever." + +"She is acting queerly," admitted the spinster. "Tonight she locked +herself in her room, won't see even the nurse, and refuses food." + +"I fear the breaking point is near," conceded Foster. "I did not like Dr. +McLane's manner when we met him on leaving Kathleen; he also is worried." + +He paused and asked abruptly, "Has Kathleen seen Charles Miller?" + +"Not today." + +"When was he last here?" + +"Let me see," calculating on her fingers. "He came with you on Wednesday +when I was here--today is Saturday." + +"Did Kathleen see him on Wednesday?" + +"I don't think so." + +"Has he been here since?" + +"I can't say; possibly the servants can tell you." + +"Will you find out from them before I go?" Miss Kiametia nodded +affirmatively, and he asked; "Has Kathleen spoken to you of seeing him +since Spencer's death?" + +"No." + +"Has she ever confided to you whether she cares for him or not?" + +"Not in words," dryly. "But my woman's intuition tells me ..." + +"Yes?" as she paused. + +"That Kathleen worships the ground he walks on." + +"Too bad." Foster sat back, looking troubled. "Too, too bad." + +"What's this? A deathbed repentance? _You_ introduced Miller in +Washington," and the spinster's sharp eyes bored into him. + +Foster moved uncomfortably. "I am sincerely sorry," he mumbled. "I have +been grossly deceived." + +"Humph!" Miss Kiametia moved closer to his side. "Go on--confession is +good for the soul." + +"I can't tell you just now," was the disappointing rejoinder. "Who found +Whitney in his studio this morning?" + +"I did; and a nice shock I had," with a shudder. "The antics in this +house are deranging my nervous system. I can't even sleep." + +"How did you happen to be around at that hour?" + +"Rosa had a bad attack of indigestion after serving dinner, and I +promised to look in and see how she was during the night. Just as I came +out of her room I thought I heard groans and rushed upstairs; found the +studio door open, and by aid of my electric torch, found Winslow lying on +the floor." + +"Did you see anyone else in the room?" + +"No, I only had the light from the torch to guide me, and that is a very +big room, with models and furniture standing around in odd spots." + +"Why didn't you turn on the electric lights?" impatiently. + +"Couldn't find the switch. I did press a button, the only one I +could locate in my haste, and it brought Henry, who switched on the +lights for me." + +"And afterward did you find any trace of papers' having been stolen? +Drawers opened, or anything?" + +"I never looked to see." Foster sat back in bitter disappointment. "All I +thought about was breaking the news of Winslow's condition to Minna and +Kathleen, and getting a doctor. Henry attended to _that_; and I went +downstairs, awoke Minna," she hesitated perceptibly, "Kathleen I found +sitting in her bedroom--dressed." + +"What!" Foster shot her a swift glance. "Asleep?" + +"No. Just sitting there, apparently too dazed to realize my presence, let +alone what I told her. Finally she grasped the news of her father's +illness, and her grief was bitter." + +"Poor girl!" + +Miss Kiametia fingered her gown nervously. "You were in Baltimore when +the newspapers published Spencer's will, and this afternoon Dr. McLane +interrupted us," she began. "Is it really true that Sinclair Spencer left +Kathleen a small fortune?" + +"Yes. On investigation, I find he held valuable stock, as well as +improved real estate of known value." + +"Sinclair Spencer was a bad egg," said Miss Kiametia slowly. "It would +have been like him to boast of his wealth to Kathleen, and by its power +seek to influence her to accept him." + +"A man will do anything to win the woman he loves," said Foster, with a +sidelong look of affection utterly lost on the spinster, who sat deep +in thought. + +"A large legacy," she commented aloud. "It establishes a motive which I +thought lacking before." + +"Kiametia!" Foster shook her elbow roughly. "What are you hinting at?" + +"Hush!" The spinster pointed to the portieres in the doorway leading to +the drawing-room. "Who is lurking there?" + +She spoke in a subdued whisper which reached Foster's ears alone, but as +he rose, startled, the portieres parted and Detective Mitchell walked +over to them. + +"Have you seen Captain Charles Miller?" he asked eagerly, omitting +other greeting. + +"No," they replied in concert. + +"Strange! I saw him enter the front door half an hour ago, using a +latchkey." + +"Charles Miller with a latchkey of this house!" gasped Miss Kiametia. + +"Yes," declared Mitchell, "and I have searched the house and cannot +find him." + +"Perhaps he came to see Kathleen," suggested Foster. + +"Could you go and see if he is with her, Miss Grey?" urged Mitchell. "Her +suite of rooms is the one place where I have not looked." + +"Yes, I--I suppose so," but the spinster held back. + +"Do go," put in Foster gently. "A clandestine meeting is not wise +for either Kathleen or Miller. Think of the construction which may +be put upon it." + +"True." But Miss Kiametia rose reluctantly, and to gain time to collect +her ideas, walked over to the table to gather up her scarf and gold mesh +purse. As she picked up the latter a slight scream escaped her. Instantly +the two men were by her side. + +"See, it's missing!" she cried, raising the gold mesh purse with its +dangling vanity box. + +"What is missing?" demanded Foster. "Don't look so distracted, my +darling." + +"M-m-my g-gold p-p-pencil," she stuttered. + +"Is that all?" and Foster smiled in relief. "I'll buy you another +tomorrow." + +"Indeed you won't," recovering some degree of composure. "I'll find +mine, if I have to search this house from the top to the bottom." + +"But please see Miss Whitney first," broke in Mitchell. + +Miss Kiametia cast him a strange look. "That is the first place I shall +go," she announced, and the two men watched her depart in silence. Foster +was about to speak when the electric lights flickered, grew dim, and then +went slowly out. + +"Trouble in the power house," grumbled Mitchell, searching his pocket for +his electric torch. "I noticed a tie-up in the street cars just before I +came in. Can you find any candles on the mantel, sir?" flashing his torch +in that direction. "Every light in the house must be out." + + * * * * * + +Henry, the chauffeur, paused in indecision on Baron Frederic von Fincke's +doorstep. "You are quite certain the Baron said he would return on the +night train?" + +"Quite," answered the valet. "He is due here at seven o'clock in the +morning. Good night." + +"Good night," echoed Henry, and turning went swiftly down the street. He +stopped for a moment at a news stand, talked with the proprietor, and +then turned his footsteps toward the Whitneys'. As he passed the War, +State, and Navy Building the lighted windows attracted his attention. +With deepening interest he noted the location of the rooms from which the +light shone. Officials of the government were working late. + +Turning, Henry sped down a side street and slipping up an alley, entered +the Whitney house by the rear entrance. He stood in deep thought outside +the kitchen door for a moment before opening it; a flash from his +electric torch showed the dark room was totally empty. Satisfied that +Rosa had gone to her bedroom, he crept softly up the back stairs and +along the front hall of the first bedroom floor. He had almost reached +Miss Kiametia Grey's bedroom door when a slight noise made him pause and +glance up the winding front stairs. He shrank farther back in the shadows +of the dark hall as a faint light appeared, outlining a white face +peering down the staircase. + +Henry caught his breath sharply. How came Julie to be back in the house? +The she-devil! Spying upon him. By God! The reckoning was close at hand, +and he crawled forward a pace, then stopped. Julie had vanished, and with +her the light. Henry debated for a moment. With Julie in the house, his +plans were changed. + +Losing no time, and as noiseless as the shadows about him, Henry made +his way down the back stairs, into the kitchen, down another flight of +steps into the sub-cellar, past the bottom of the elevator shaft, the +motor room, and to the front of the house. With swift, deft fingers he +swung aside a panel of shelves containing rows of preserve jars and +pickles, and stepped inside a small chamber. Carefully he drew to the +panel which, with its strong, well-oiled hinges, made no sound as it +slipped into place. A second more and the small chamber was flooded with +light as Henry found the switch. Never glancing at the batteries lining +the wall, he went direct to the small pine table, and his fingers sought +the telegraph instruments and set them in motion. + +Upstairs in the library the two candles which Foster had been able to +find in the desk drawer burned brightly in their improvised candlesticks. +The flame, however, served but to intensify the darkness of the large +room. The minutes had ticked themselves away in swift succession, but +still Miss Kiametia Grey did not return. Mitchell shut his watch with an +impatient snap, and Foster, his nerves not fully under control, looked up +at the sound. + +"What can be keeping Miss Grey?" he asked. + +"Can't imagine, unless--" The detective never completed the sentence. + +"Come quickly," whispered a voice over his shoulder, and swinging about +with a convulsive start, Mitchell recognized Charles Miller. With common +impulse he and Foster sprang up, but he was the first to reach Miller's +side, and the candlelight shone on burnished steel. "Put up the +handcuffs, Mitchell," directed Miller contemptuously. "The time has not +yet come to use them." + +"I am not so sure of that," retorted Mitchell. "You are ..." + +"We can argue the point later." Miller made for the door. "Both of you +come with me; but for God's sake, make no noise." His manner impressed +them, and after one second's hesitation, the detective replaced the +handcuffs, and in their stead produced a revolver. + +"Go ahead," he said. "But remember, Miller, if you attempt to escape you +will be arrested." + +Without replying Miller led the way through the silent house, his torch +and occasional whispered direction guiding them to the sub-cellar. + +Inside the chamber under the parking of the house, Henry worked with +tireless energy, taking down the coded messages as they flashed from the +skilled fingers of the Government operators in the great War, State, and +Navy Department but a stone's throw away. Suddenly, above the click of +the sounder his abnormal sense of hearing caught a faint noise on the +other side of the closed panel. One movement of his hand and the chamber +was in darkness and the telegraph instrument stilled. Backing into a +corner, Henry waited, his eyes still blinded by the change from light to +darkness; but he heard the opening of the panel, and the soft swish of a +woman's skirts. + +"Julie!" His lips formed the word, but no sound issued from him as he +launched himself forward. For a few seconds he closed with his adversary. +Backward and forward they rocked; then a shot rang out and with a sob a +figure sank limply across the pine table. + +"This way!" shouted Miller, and guided by his voice Mitchell and Foster +dashed after him. They stopped just inside the chamber. Miller's torch +cast its beams across the pine table and its silent burden. A gasping cry +broke from Foster: + +"Mrs. Whitney!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +RETRIBUTIVE JUSTICE + + +"Dead!" The detective bent over Mrs. Whitney. "Shot through the heart." +He turned to his silent companions. "Who fired that revolver?" and his +own covered Miller menacingly. + +Miller, spying the electric lamp, switched it on before answering. Still +silent, he pointed to the telegrapher's outfit which confronted them and +to the tell-tale wires leading to the outer world. + +"The shot was fired," he said, "by the man who tunneled out to the +conduit in which are the cables running to the White House and War, +State, and Navy Building, and tapped them." + +"Where is he?" Mitchell cast a bewildered look about the small chamber. + +"I felt someone brush by me on the stairs in the darkness," volunteered +Foster, recovering somewhat from his stupefaction. "I fear he has got +safely away." + +"No." Miller stepped back from Mrs. Whitney's side. "Chief Connor of +the Secret Service has a cordon of operatives about the house. +Heinrich Strauss, alias Henry Ross, chauffeur, cannot escape. Listen, +isn't that a shot?" + +"I hope to God they've caught him alive!" exclaimed Mitchell, looking +sorrowfully at the dead woman. "He'll swing for this murder, if not for +the death of Sinclair Spencer." + +"I doubt if he was guilty of that crime," said Miller quietly. + +"What!" Mitchell stared incredulously at him. "What leads you to +think that?" + +"Hush!" Miller held up a warning hand as the sound of hurrying footsteps +reached them. A second more and Julie appeared in the sub-cellar, guided +by their light. Her eyes were gleaming with a strange excitement. +Unnoticed by the others, Miller swiftly removed his coat and threw it +over Mrs. Whitney so that it covered her face. + +"He is caught, that Henry!" called Julie, catching sight of Foster +standing in the opening of the secret chamber. "He was getting away, oh, +so softly in the dark, and I tripped him. But yes, and he +fired"--touching a red gash in her cheek. "But the others, they pounced +upon him. La--la! And they are bringing him here. But what--?" trying to +peer past Foster. + +Miller stepped forward. "Crouch down behind those barrels, Julie," he +ordered, and the Frenchwoman, startled by his sudden appearance, obeyed +mechanically. By sheer force of personality Miller took command. "Go back +and wait in the telegraph room," he whispered hurriedly. "You do the +questioning, Mitchell; I'll keep out of sight here." + +Before Mitchell could ask the question burning on his lips, a number of +men made their way down the staircase, Heinrich Strauss in their midst, +handcuffed to the tallest operative. Mitchell saluted as he recognized +the foremost man. + +"This room will interest you, Chief," he said, making way for him, and +Connor took a comprehensive look over the chamber. + +"We've found the leak," he acknowledged. "Clever work that," inspecting +the arrangement of the wires. He drew back at the sight of the covered +figure stretched across the table. "What's this--murder?" + +"Yes," answered Mitchell. "Henry, here," jerking his thumb toward the +erstwhile chauffeur, "killed the woman before we could interfere." + +"Did I?" demanded Heinrich. "How are you going to prove it? I wasn't in +this room ..." + +"You waste time," said a cool voice behind him, and Miller stepped into +the circle. "The game is up, Heinrich." + +"You renegade!" Heinrich was livid with fury. + +"This man is Heinrich Strauss," continued Miller quietly. "One of the +most expert electricians and telegraph operators in Germany. He could be +described as an electrical genius." + +"His work shows that," acknowledged Chief Connor. + +A slight stir in the doorway caused Heinrich to turn, and he smiled +evilly at sight of Kathleen and Miss Kiametia Grey. + +"I'm glad you've come," he said, addressing Kathleen directly, as she +shrank back at sight of him. "That man there," pointing to Miller, "is +Karl von Mueller, captain in the Secret Service." A low moan broke from +Kathleen, and she looked anywhere but at Miller, who had stepped forward +to stand between her and the pine table with its pathetic burden. "Von +Mueller," continued Heinrich, "killed Sinclair Spencer." + +"I deny it," exclaimed Miller. + +"Lies won't help," retorted Heinrich. "Miss Whitney, did you not attempt +to rub off with your handkerchief from Spencer's blood-stained shirt, +Captain von Mueller's finger print?" + +The question from that source was unexpected. Twice Kathleen strove to +answer. She cast an agonized look about the circle of men, but their set, +stern faces gave her no help. + +"Yes," and the monosyllable was little more than a murmur. + +"Ah, take that down, Detective Mitchell," exclaimed Heinrich, +triumphantly. "And von Mueller was in the house that night--do you deny +it?" + +"No." Miller's clear voice did not falter nor did his gaze, and Mitchell, +handcuffs in evidence, looked perplexedly at Chief Connor. The latter was +watching Miller like a lynx, and the Secret Service operatives closed up +in the entranceway--there was no chance to escape, handcuffs seemed +unnecessary. + +The smile that crossed Heinrich's lips was cruel. "We will swing +together, von Mueller," he said. "Turning state's evidence will not save +you, you traitor!" With an effort he controlled his rage, and spoke more +calmly, "Chief Connor, your informer last night stole Whitney's +invention; besides admitting to me that he had it, he left these +tell-tale finger prints"--his hand sought his pocket, but a quick jerk on +the handcuffs stopped him. "Take it out yourself," he snarled to the +operative next him, "inside pocket." His request was quickly complied +with. "There, that tells the story; open it." + +Detective Mitchell bent eagerly forward and gazed at the sheet, then +turned to Miller. + +"Let me see your hands," he directed. Obediently Miller held them palm +uppermost, and the detective and Chief Connor examined the half-moon scar +on the index finger of his right hand with minute care. + +"It tallies," exclaimed Mitchell. A cry from Kathleen broke the silence. +Miller whitened as he heard it. + +"The evidence is conclusive, is it not?" mocked Heinrich. "If that dead +woman could speak"--pointing to the table--"she would tell you how she +saw the crime committed." + +"Suppose we take her mute testimony"--and with a swift movement Miller +removed his coat. + +"Merciful God!" With eyes starting from his head Heinrich recoiled. "Mrs. +Whitney! Why didn't she let me know she was coming down here?" + +"Ah, then she was in the habit of coming?" + +Miller's remark remained unanswered. Heinrich stared and stared again at +Mrs. Whitney, great beads of sweat standing on his forehead. "I thought +it was Julie--that hell-cat!" he muttered. "Why, why didn't she speak, +and let me know who she was?" Then suddenly he collapsed on the one +chair in the chamber and bowed his head. + +At sight of Mrs. Whitney a gasping cry escaped Kathleen. Involuntarily +her eyes strayed about the chamber, her dazed senses slowly grasping the +situation. In the appalling silence one idea became paramount--Henry, the +chauffeur, was a spy, and both his words and behavior implicated Mrs. +Whitney. She, his accomplice? Oh, impossible! She put the thought from +her, but memories, unconsidered trifles, rose to combat Kathleen's +loyalty. Had Mrs. Whitney's smilingly collected manner and dignified +reserve cloaked a cold, calculating, and treacherous nature? + +Kathleen shuddered in horror, and reeled back into Miss Kiametia's arms. +The spinster, shaken out of her forced composure, was crying without +realizing it. She placed a protecting arm about Kathleen and held her in +close embrace. Over the shoulders of the men, Julie, who had crawled from +her hiding place behind the barrels, peered at them in mingled curiosity +and incredulity. + +"Heinrich!" Miller's voice penetrated even the spy's benumbed brain. "Why +is Mrs. Whitney wearing these finger tips?" and he held up the limp right +hand. Each finger was fitted with a wax tip, and on the index finger, +distinct and plain, was the scar shaped like a half moon. + +Stunned, the men and women present looked first at Mrs. Whitney's hand, +then at Miller, and last at Heinrich. No one spoke, and in the heavy +silence the spy's labored breathing was distinct. + +"The game is up," he admitted slowly. "I wish I hadn't done that," +nodding to the silent figure. "She didn't deserve to be shot by me. She +was faithful to Germany ..." + +"Do you mean to insinuate that Minna Whitney was a German spy?" asked +Miss Kiametia, shocked into speech. + +"Well, yes, you might call it that," taunted Heinrich. "I term it +loyalty to the Fatherland, where she was born and brought up. Her mother +was a German." + +"She would never have aided you but for your devilish wiles," broke in +Miller hotly. + +"The fact that she was deeply in debt did influence her," admitted +Heinrich insolently. "Money was her god. I had to pay handsomely before +she would engage my services as chauffeur, and let me make use of this +nice little box." + +"Did you construct this tunnel under the pavement"--pointing to where the +telegraph wires entered the chamber--"and install this outfit by +yourself?" asked Chief Connor, breaking his long silence. + +Heinrich smiled. "You will never learn that from me--and you should +remember that your conduits are laid only seven inches below the surface +of the street; it was hardly a man-sized job." He smiled again, and +continued. "Neither Mrs. Whitney nor I wished to take anyone wholly into +our confidence. She was a perfect assistant; she knew the antecedents of +nearly everyone in society here, and she invariably found out, or got +others to find out, the motives which inspired strangers to come to +Washington. Her husband never interfered with our plans, as he spent most +of his time, both day and night, in his studio. The servants never came +down in this sub-cellar, and with Mrs. Whitney's connivance, I frequently +managed to keep the limousine in the repair shop--and my time was my own. +My surroundings were ideal, even the location of this house favored my +plans ..." + +"Until you grew too ambitious," added Connor softly. + +"Perhaps." Heinrich gnawed at his underlip as he shot a glance full of +venom at Kathleen who stood with head averted, drinking in all that was +said. To hurt her, to lower her pride appealed to Heinrich; his silence +would not benefit the dead woman, while speech would cruelly hurt and +mortify both Kathleen and her father. "My government was anxious to +secure Mr. Whitney's inventions; he would not sell to them, although +Baron--" he stopped and scowled at Miller--"offered him a large sum. +Whitney stuck to it that none but his own country could have the +inventions. Then I suggested to Mrs. Whitney that she get the drawings +and specifications for me; and again I paid her a large sum of money. But +it was as difficult for Mrs. Whitney to get into the studio as for me, +and the danger to herself was not small. Her husband was very suspicious, +and he never permitted her to remain in the room alone. + +"However, because she was not aware I had perfected, as I thought, +another plan to secure the invention, and tempted by the sum of money I +held before her to succeed, she made another attempt last night. She +cried out with disappointment when, after entering, she found only blank +paper, and Whitney heard her." He stared at the horrified faces about +him, and clearing his voice, added, "The shock finished Whitney." + +"You are the devil incarnate!" exclaimed Miss Kiametia, wrathfully. + +"I'm not, but he is." Heinrich raised his manacled hands menacingly +toward Miller. "I never fully trusted you, von Mueller; although I never +found any evidence of your double dealing in your room. But while +outwardly appearing to confide in you, I took the precaution to +incriminate you should my plans miscarry. I observed the peculiar scar on +your finger, and conceived the idea of copying your finger tips in wax. +With Mrs. Whitney's help, I secured an impression of your finger prints +and had it copied in wax. The workman, another German sympathizer, +achieved a wonderful copy of the original, and by my advice Mrs. Whitney +wore the wax finger tips whenever she had work to do." + +"An ingenious plan, very," ejaculated Mitchell, "and one new to me." + +"Mrs. Whitney was wearing them on the night that Sinclair Spencer took it +into his besotted brain to investigate this house," went on Heinrich. +"Mrs. Whitney told me afterwards that she was on the way here to see me, +when she spied Spencer crouching in the elevator, the door of which was +open. She was afraid of being discovered if she went upstairs again, and +to stay was equally dangerous. + +"She had with her a hypodermic syringe which I had given her to use in an +emergency." Kathleen straightened up, and for the first time stared full +at the spy. "The syringe was filled with a solution of cyanide of +potassium," continued Henry. "Adjusting the needle, Mrs. Whitney entered +the elevator, and before Spencer could move, thrust it into his neck. +Spencer gave one convulsive start, attempted to get up, and his heavy +body lurched full against her. She held a knife in her left hand, and as +he half arose from his knees, the force of contact against the worn edges +of the knife gashed his throat. I had asked Mrs. Whitney to bring me one +of the knives which her daughter had for modeling, as I wanted to use +some putty down here. + +"With great presence of mind," continued Heinrich, after a brief pause +which no one cared to break, "Mrs. Whitney ran the elevator to the +attic, and before leaving dipped her wax finger tip in the blood flowing +from Spencer's throat, and made a distinct impression of von Mueller's +finger print on Spencer's white shirt front. Mrs. Whitney left the +elevator at the attic, but Detective Mitchell arrived before she missed +the syringe. On discovering Miss Grey had it, she made various attempts +to get it back. + +"I found the hypodermic syringe," confessed Miss Kiametia. "It was lying +inside the elevator, and I picked it up just after Kathleen was carried +from the elevator. The syringe was marked 'K.W.,' and some impulse made +me keep it, and after the inquest, when I learned cyanide of potassium +had killed Spencer, I hardly let it out of my sight"--Kathleen turned +bewildered, grateful eyes on the spinster--she was not a drug-fiend, but +the most loyal of friends. Her hand tightened on the spinster's, and her +pressure was returned twofold. "Did Kathleen's unnatural mother +deliberately have that syringe marked with her daughter's initials?" + +"Put it down to coincidence," sneered Heinrich. "Or say I had it marked +'K.W.' for--Kaiser Wilhelm." + +"I doubt it; malice alone governed your actions to all in my house." +Kathleen faced the spy proudly. "Miss Kiametia, you do Mrs. Whitney one +injustice. She was not an unnatural mother--as she was no blood kin of +mine, but my father's second wife. She never told anyone that I was not +her child. I don't know why she kept the matter a secret, but I only +learned it accidentally a year ago, and respecting her wishes, never said +anything about it." + +"Mrs. Whitney was secretive by nature," said Heinrich. "And that instinct +made her a willing pawn." + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + +LOVE PARAMOUNT + + +Pausing only long enough to say a parting word to Coroner Penfield and +Chief Connor, Miller hastened up the back stairs and entered the library. +Kathleen and Miss Kiametia Grey, utterly unmindful of the hour, sat on +the sofa, and near them stood Julie, a neat bandage wound about her cheek +and head, while Senator Foster paced agitatedly up and down the room. He +stopped on seeing Miller. + +"Will you kindly inform us who you are?" he demanded peremptorily. "The +Secretary of State showed me a letter tonight from Vincent stating that +you were a German spy ..." + +"Oh, that Vincent!" exclaimed Julie. "I talked too much to him." + +"I came here at once," went on Foster, paying no attention to Julie, +"hoping to elicit some facts about you from Miss Grey and Miss Kathleen. +Tell us at once who you are." + +"Charles Miller Trent," was the calm reply. + +"Then why"--Kathleen sprang to her feet--"why were you masquerading as +Karl von Mueller when I knew you in Germany?" + +"I beg your pardon, you did not know me in Germany." Kathleen +crimsoned at the direct contradiction. "But you did know my cousin, +Karl von Mueller." + +Too dazed for utterance, Kathleen stared at him, studying his face as +never before, and gradually her incredulity gave place to belief. Feature +for feature, coloring matching coloring, the man before her resembled +Karl as she remembered him, but the honesty and steadfast purpose to be +read in Miller's square jaw and fine eyes had been lacking in his cousin. + +"The likeness is extraordinary," she stammered. + +"Yes," agreed Miller. "But I do not think you would have been so +thoroughly certain of my identity if I had not copied my cousin's +mannerisms as well as his handwriting." + +"Then you were brought up together?" asked Foster. + +"In a way, yes. I was never in Germany, but my aunt, Frau von Mueller, +spent many winters at my father's home in Rio Janeiro...." + +"What, are you the son of the coffee importer, Charles M. Trent," +demanded Foster, again interrupting him. + +"Yes. As boys Karl and I were perpetually changing identities and +confusing our playmates, as well as our parents. To that end I was a +willing German scholar, and Karl also became proficient in his +English studies." + +"Were you entirely educated in South America?" asked Miss Kiametia. + +"Oh, no; I spent a great deal of time in Santa Barbara, my mother's home, +and later attended Stanford University. But I have seldom been in the +East, and have few friends here. Last fall I overcame my mother's +objection (she unfortunately sympathized with Germany), and went to +England to enlist in the British army," continued Miller, after a brief +pause. "The night of my arrival in London I was arrested, charged with +being a spy. I had great difficulty, even with my passport and letters to +my bankers, in proving I was not a spy. Finally, I was told that a man +resembling me had been arrested, tried at once, and executed that day." + +"They keep such things quiet over there," commented Foster. + +"To cut a long story short, I was taken to see the dead spy, and found +he was my cousin, Karl von Mueller"--He hesitated and glanced sorrowfully +at Kathleen who sat with head averted. How would she take the news he was +imparting--how deep was her affection for the dead spy? Sighing, he +continued his statement. "The indorsement of my father's influential +friends, whom I had called upon to establish my identity, evidently +carried weight, for on my release it was suggested to me by one high in +authority that, instead of enlisting in the army, I use my cousin's +identity and spy upon the Germans. There was a spice of deviltry in the +scheme and--I accepted. + +"They gave me his papers, clothes, money, and I slipped straight into his +place. None of his companions had heard of his arrest and death. Those +whom I saw I told I had been out of London on a special mission, and they +believed the statement without question. By aid of such papers as my +cousin had kept concealed on his person, I learned something of his +methods, and contact with his companions in London taught me assurance. +No one doubted my identity. Karl had assumed the name of Charles Miller +and it was easy for me to drop my surname. Finally I was sent to a +certain town in the warring countries, and there I received instructions +to come to the United States." + +"Did the Germans accept your identity without question?" asked Foster. + +"Apparently so; but I was not in Germany twenty-four hours, and the Herr +Chief of the Secret Service was familiar with my cousin's appearance and +never doubted he was talking to Karl," answered Miller. "On my arrival +here I communicated at once with Chief Connor, giving him the credentials +I had brought from the London office. By his advice I followed out the +instructions given me by the Herr Chief of the German Secret Service, and +to all intents and purposes was a German spy. But as I grew to know Baron +von Fincke better, I became convinced that another and cleverer man was +responsible for the leak in the carefully guarded offices of this +government. I suspected everyone," Miller smiled suddenly, "even you, +Senator Foster--your peace propaganda fooled me...." + +"Wait," broke in Miss Kiametia. "Randall shan't be blamed for that; +Minna Whitney insinuated that he would not make a peace speech even for +me, so I--I...." + +"Proved her wrong," Foster laughed ruefully. "Mrs. Whitney was a keen +student of human nature; but continue, Miller--er--Trent--I won't +interrupt again." + +"Chief Connor confided to me that messages were being wirelessed to +German cruisers, and that while the station at Sayville, Long Island, was +under surveillance, they were powerless to check the new use of the +wireless." Miller drew his chair closer. "I made a study of wireless +while at college, and the problem here fascinated me. I finally reached +the conclusion ..." + +"Yes, go on," urged Foster. + +"That messages to the German cruisers were being relayed from stations +close together; in other words, that the station in the heart of this +city had a wave length shorter than Arlington's minimum wave length, and +the Arlington Radio Station was unable to hear--you already know that a +transmitting and receiving station can only hear each other when in tune; +that is, the wave length of each must be equal. I therefore established a +receiving station in my room with a short wave length--and the result +justified my reasoning." + +"Good!" ejaculated Foster heartily. + +"But at that, while I had the messages to turn over to Chief Connor, I +was still in the dark as to the location of the sender. You know it is +impossible to determine the direction or distance of a transmitting +station by its waves--a ship at sea cannot be found by wireless unless +its bearings are given. I concluded that the transmitting station must be +in the vicinity of the government buildings, and the next relay within +five miles--a greater wave length could be picked up by Arlington. + +"On Tuesday night I got on the roof of one of the tall government +buildings near here, and examining each roof as I crossed it looking for +wireless antennae, I finally reached this house. I suspected I was being +watched by Baron von Fincke, but managed to confuse him as to the +direction I was taking, and finally clambered down into this attic +through the scuttle. I was certain he was not aware of my identity, and +for the sake of my plans, could not risk discovery. + +"I had never been in your attic before," went on Miller, addressing +Kathleen directly. "I was not even positive this was your house. When +trying to find my way about I chanced upon the elevator shaft; I thought +I was walking into a closet. At that moment I heard a footstep on the +stair." Julie started and bent eagerly forward. "Desiring to get away as +quickly as possible, I pressed the button for the elevator...." + +"But the elevator must have been right there," interrupted Kathleen. +"You could not have opened the outer mahogany door otherwise." + +"So I realized when I had collected my wits," responded Miller. "Opening +both doors, I bolted into the elevator a few minutes before the footsteps +reached the attic." + +"Was Spencer in the elevator then?" questioned Foster. + +"I don't know; the elevator was dark, and I only used my flashlight for a +second to show me the proper button to push for the first floor. It may +be that Spencer was in the elevator, but I did not see him." + +"But I did," volunteered Julie, coming forward. "And I it was you heard +creeping upstairs. I believed that Henry was a spy and feared that he +would steal Mr. Whitney's invention. Oh, monsieur, I was so intent on +guarding the studio I never gave a thought to the sub-cellar. Frequently +I watched all night in a niche I had fashioned near the wine closet, but +on Tuesday, alas! I slept. The soft closing of the elevator door awoke +me, and a person whom, by her walk and height, I judged to be +mademoiselle, moved away from the elevator and went downstairs. Inspired +by curiosity I entered the elevator a moment later, and switched on the +light. I was almost overcome by the sight of M. Spencer, and turned out +the light to shut away the view. I rushed to my room; but I could not +rest. I was in agony for you, mademoiselle; that very afternoon I had +warned you against Monsieur Spencer, and I feared--Oh, forgive me! that +you had killed him because he had injured your father. After a long +interval I crept upstairs to the attic and there tried to puzzle out what +would be best to do for mademoiselle. Fearing the police would make me +tell what I had seen, I ran away." + +"When did you discover Sinclair Spencer in the elevator, Kathleen?" asked +Miss Kiametia. + +"When I went to find Julie on Wednesday morning," began Kathleen. "I was +very absent-minded that morning, and after pressing the button for the +elevator never noticed whether it was long arriving at my floor or +not--the length of time it takes to reach a floor is the only way we have +of judging from where it comes," she explained. "I entered the elevator +intent only on pushing the basement button, which I did with my right +hand, pulling the folding grille-work steel door to with my left hand. My +back was turned to where Sinclair Spencer lay." She shuddered at the +recollection. "Just before the elevator reached the basement I turned +around and saw him. At first I was too stunned to move; then impulsively +turned on the electric light so that I might see better, and discovered +the finger print on his shirt. + +"I don't suppose I would have been so quick to recognize the finger mark +had not Miss Kiametia called my attention to it the day before when +reading Captain M--Trent's palm," she resumed, not looking at Miller. +"Horrified, I took my handkerchief and strove to make the stain +unrecognizable; then suddenly I lost control of myself, and gave vent to +scream after scream, and pressed my finger to the button nearest my hand. +I was taken to the third floor, but the stopping of the elevator did not +bring me self-control, and I think I should have lost my mind if the +elevator had not moved of itself; I realized someone had pushed a floor +button, but when the elevator stopped again and Miss Kiametia opened the +door, I had lost all reason ... I...." She stopped, overcome by the +recollection. + +"My poor darling!" Miss Kiametia kissed her tenderly. + +"How did you get that scar on your finger, Trent?" inquired Foster. + +"While on a hunting trio with my father in the interior of South +America my cousin and I, then fifteen and sixteen respectively, played a +trick on one of our Indian guides. With the assistance of other Indians +he branded my finger, saying by the half-moon we would be identified one +from the other." + +"That explains." Kathleen drew a long breath. "I racked my brain +to remember whether I had seen the scar on your finger in Germany, +and concluded you had perhaps received the injury since--since our +last meeting." + +"Tell me, Kathleen," broke in Miss Kiametia, "how did it happen that +Sinclair Spencer had a flower from your bouquet in his hand?" + +"I don't know, except that I wore the flowers the night before, and one +may have fallen on the floor of the elevator and he picked it up." + +Julie, who had followed Kathleen's every word with the closest attention, +stepped to Miller Trent's side. "Monsieur, can you explain this +telegram?" handing it to him. "Heinrich dropped it here late this +afternoon." + +Miller read the two words, then drew out a pencil. "Divide the word +'Trenton' to 'Trent on' and it reads: 'Trent on, hurry.' Yesterday +afternoon I met a man named Hartzmann; he had known Karl intimately, and +before I left him I realized something had aroused his suspicions. In +New York he communicated with Buenos Ayres, found my whereabouts was +unknown to my family, and jumped to the conclusion that I was +impersonating my cousin." + +"How do you know that?" demanded Foster. + +"The Secret Service operative shadowing Hartzmann notified me of it +today," answered Miller. "Obviously Hartzmann neglected to give any key +to his dispatch to Heinrich, and the latter must have been entirely in +the dark as to the real meaning of the warning. Von Fincke, whom +Hartzmann apparently relied on to enlighten Heinrich, is out of town." + +"Was it the operative's message to you about Hartzman which brought you +here tonight?" asked Foster. + +"No; I came hoping for an opportunity to examine Mr. Whitney's studio, +and used a key to the front door which I had had made without Heinrich's +knowledge. I thought by examining the studio I could find out who really +went there last night; Heinrich brought me a set of the finger prints, +and their startling resemblance to mine convinced me that a plot, +devilish in its ingenuity, was being concocted and an attempt made to +involve me in their machinations. On my way to the studio I saw Heinrich +creeping downstairs and followed him. I never for one moment suspected +Mrs. Whitney." + +"Nor did anyone else," agreed Foster. "Except that Heinrich was shocked +into confession by his having unintentionally killed Mrs. Whitney, +thinking her Julie, we might never have learned the whole truth. +Mitchell, after seeing Vincent's note to the Secretary of State, was +thoroughly convinced you were guilty. By the way, Kiametia, what kept you +so long upstairs when Mitchell asked you to find out if Miller was with +Miss Kathleen?" + +"Searching for that hypodermic needle; I believed Kathleen had +taken it back." + +"Did you see Mrs. Whitney upstairs?" + +"No, I stopped for a moment in Winslow's room, and the nurse told me +Minna had gone to her bedroom to lie down." + +"What possessed her to go to the sub-cellar?" asked Foster. + +"Probably a demon of unrest, or she may have had some message to leave +for Heinrich," suggested Miller. "When he grappled with her in the dark +she undoubtedly thought him a detective and dared not call out for fear +of disclosing her identity. Probably she thought Heinrich out of the +house, and never dreamed of his attacking her." + +"And Heinrich mistook her for me." Julie's eyes glowed. "The hand of +God! But, monsieur, why did you advise that I stay away from +mademoiselle, and take me to that dreadful house?" + +"Because, Julie, you were hysterical, and I feared if interviewed, you +might make some statement in all good faith which would do Miss Kathleen +irreparable injury. I also believed that your absence would serve to +divert suspicion until I had a chance to find the real criminal; I met +you before the inquest, and did not realize that your disappearance could +be used to militate against Miss Kathleen. As for Mrs. Robinson"--he +laughed slightly--"she keeps a private sanitarium, but just now has no +patients. You were perfectly safe there, and I had Connor detail an +operative to see that Heinrich did not torment you." + +"What will become of Baron von Fincke?" + +"Chief Connor and the State Department will handle his case. Connor told +me he found the Baron's next door neighbor--a man named Frank Lutz...." + +"Mercy, his wife's a member of the Sisters in Unity!" ejaculated +Miss Kiametia. + +"Lutz has a complete wireless transmitting station," went on Miller. "He +was stunned by his arrest, and attempted suicide; Connor believes he can +induce him to tell the locations of the other relay stations. Lutz had +the wireless antennae strung along the ceilings in the upper corridors of +his house. He declares they have just perfected a method to overcome +static interference." + +"And what about Heinrich?" asked Julie anxiously. "Will he escape?" + +"No, he will undoubtedly pay the penalty of his crime; Mitchell took him +in charge. Coroner Penfield was here a short time ago," added Miller, +turning to Miss Kiametia. "He assisted us to take Mrs. Whitney to her +bedroom; I left Rosa, the cook, there." + +"Thank you," murmured Kathleen. + +"I think I had better go upstairs and see to everything," and the +spinster rose. + +"Just a minute," Miller hesitated. "I felt that another and more +determined attempt would be made to get Mr. Whitney's invention, +Kathleen, and so suggested to him that he trust me with the drawings and +specifications." + +"Did he?" + +"Yes, and I took them over and deposited them In the care of Chief +Connor." + +"A capital idea," exclaimed Foster. + +"Then father's inventions are quite safe?" asked Kathleen. + +"Yes. One is a camera for taking a map of the country from an airship; +the other, still more marvelous--glass armor." + +"Glass what!" chorused his listeners. + +"Armor. A suit woven from a combination of mica and glass which Mauser +bullets cannot penetrate." + +"Good Lord!" Foster tugged at his hair until it stood upright. + +"We can discuss the inventions at another time," announced the +spinster, recovering from her astonishment. "I'll be upstairs, +Kathleen, if you want me." + +"Wait, I'm coming," but Foster turned on the threshold of the door, his +curiosity mastering him. "There's just one question, Miss Kathleen; if +you knew Karl von Mueller in Germany and, as you thought, met him here +using the name of Charles Miller, why did you not at once conclude he was +a German spy?" + +"Because a year ago a school friend in Germany wrote me that Karl had +disappeared after a duel, and she believed he was living in America under +an assumed name," replied Kathleen, rising hurriedly. "Under those +circumstances I thought it natural that he should have anglicized his +name. Won't you stop--?" + +"No, thanks," hastily. "I must see Kiametia. Good-night," and he +disappeared into the hall. Miss Kiametia was talking to a white-capped +nurse, who continued on her way upstairs on Foster's approach. + +"Winslow has regained consciousness," announced Miss Kiametia, "and is +sleeping naturally at last." + +"I am delighted to hear it." Foster's tired face lighted with pleasure. +"Shall I tell Kathleen?" + +"No, not just yet; good news will keep, and I think she is entitled to +the happiness of being with the man she loves." + +"Do you never crave for that happiness, Kiametia?" and there was a +wistful tenderness in his voice which made the spinster blink +suspiciously. Suddenly she slipped her hand in his. + +"Suppose I say yes, for a change," she whispered, burying her head on his +shoulder, and with a thankful heart Foster held her close as he whispered +tender, soothing words in her ear. + +Neither Kathleen nor Miller cared to break the silence which prevailed +after Foster's departure. Julie had slipped away at the same time. The +pause became embarrassing, and in desperation Miller broke it. + +"Kathleen, can you ever forgive me?" standing tall and straight before +her. "I acted what seems now a contemptible part--but I had to know whom +you were protecting, whom you suspected of killing Spencer--I +thought--forgive me--your father guilty. Until you said last night that +you were shielding me, I had no idea of such a possibility; then I jumped +to the conclusion that you had seen me in this house on Tuesday night, +and imagined you were the person creeping up to the attic. Then, +then--God help me!--came the idea that German gold had corrupted you, +also. I put you to a severe test; but I wanted my doubts that you might +be in German pay absolutely refuted. Even when I threatened, you stood +firm." He drew in his breath sharply. "You will never know how I admired +you and hated myself." + +She answered with a question. "How did you know of my friendship with +your cousin, Karl?" + +"We have always been confidentially intimate. In a moment of remorse he +wrote me about you, telling me of your elopement, and stating that he +took you to a village removed from a railroad for the wedding, and there +found the priest too ill in bed to perform the ceremony; he confessed +that he got drunk, lost his head, and--and--suggested that you dispense +with the marriage ceremony." + +Kathleen crimsoned to the roots of her hair. "Did he tell you that I +indignantly refused, escaped from him, and started out to walk to the +nearest railroad station. There I met John Hargraves, told him of my +elopement, then accompanied him to the hotel in the next town where his +cousin was stopping and spent the night with her, returning next day +under her escort to the school. She explained to the principal that I had +been visiting her, and smoothed over what promised to be a scandal." + +"Yes, Karl wrote me of that also, but he did you the tardy justice of +never mentioning your full name. When I met you at Chevy Chase I +realized suddenly that you had mistaken me for him and--" Miller +hesitated for a brief second--"I followed the game. Kathleen," his +hitherto clear voice faltered, "I followed it to my own undoing. Each +time that you repulsed me, you inspired me--first, with admiration; +then, all unbidden, came love--love, so faithful and unswerving that not +even the toils of treachery and false witness which threatened to +envelope you, could alter it." He hesitated again, his face white and +strained. "Tell me frankly, Kathleen, did you accept me on Tuesday only +because you thought me Karl?" + +"No." Kathleen's face was rosy with color and her eyes shone with a new +radiance. Eagerly Miller clasped her hands and, bending his head, kissed +them. "Whatever schoolgirl affection I cherished for Karl was long since +dead before I met you. To you alone I gave my heart." + +"My love, my love," he murmured softly. "May God aid me to atone to +you for the sorrow of the past!" and looking up into his eyes, as his +arms stole round her, Kathleen read there that the glory of life was +hers at last. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of I Spy, by Natalie Sumner Lincoln + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK I SPY *** + +This file should be named 7ispy10.txt or 7ispy10.zip +Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks get a new NUMBER, 7ispy11.txt +VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, 7ispy10a.txt + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Mary Meehan +and PG Distributed Proofreaders + +Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US +unless a copyright notice is included. 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Do not change or edit the +header without written permission. + +Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the +eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file. Included is +important information about your specific rights and restrictions in +how the file may be used. You can also find out about how to make a +donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!***** + + +Title: I Spy + +Author: Natalie Sumner Lincoln + +Release Date: February, 2006 [EBook #9812] +[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule] +[This file was first posted on October 19, 2003] + +Edition: 10 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK I SPY *** + + + + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Mary Meehan +and PG Distributed Proofreaders + + + + + I SPY + + BY NATALIE SUMNER LINCOLN + + 1916 + + + + +_To MRS. SARAH VAIL GOULD my grandmother to whose affection belongs many +joyous days of childhood at "Oaklands" this book is offered as a loving +tribute to her memory._ + + + + +CONTENTS + + I. AT VICTORIA STATION + + II. OUT OF THE VOID + + III. POWERS THAT PREY + + IV. "SHOULD AULD ACQUAINTANCE BE FORGOT?" + + V. AN EVENTFUL EVENING + + VI. AT THE CAPITOL + + VII. PHANTOM WIRES + + VIII. KAISER BLUMEN + + IX. THE SPIDER AND THE FLY + + X. SISTERS IN UNITY + + XI. A MAN IN A HURRY + + XII. A SINISTER DISCOVERY + + XIII. HIDE AND SEEK + + XIV. A QUESTION OF LOYALTY + + XV. THE GAME, "I SPY" + + XVI. AT THE MORGUE + + XVII. CIRCUMSTANTIAL EVIDENCE + + XVIII. A PROPOSAL + + XIX. THE YELLOW STREAK + + XX. THE AWAKENING + + XXI. THE FINGER PRINT + + XXII. "TRENTON HURRY" + + XXIII. IN FULL CRY + + XXIV. RETRIBUTIVE JUSTICE + + XXV. LOVE PARAMOUNT + + + + +LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS + + +"He saw Kathleen quickly palm his place card" + +"As Henry pushed back the door, she collapsed into her father's arms" + +"'A flash, the rifle's recoil--and Mr. Whitney still standing just +where he was'" + +"Whitney paused to snatch up a magnifying glass and by its aid examined +the finger prints" + + + + +CHAPTER I + +AT VICTORIA STATION + + +The allied forces, English and French, had been bent backward day by day, +until it seemed as if Paris was fairly within the Germans' grasp. Bent +indeed, but never broken, and with the turning of the tide the Allied +line had rushed forward, and France breathed again. + +Two men, seated in a room of the United Service Club in London one gloomy +afternoon in November, 1914, talked over the situation in tones too low +to reach other ears. The older man, Sir Percival Hargraves, had been +bemoaning the fact that England seemed honeycombed by the German Secret +Service, and his nephew, John Hargraves, an officer in uniform, was +attempting to reassure him. It was a farewell meeting, for the young +officer was returning to the front. + +"Much good will all this espionage do the Germans," said the young man. +"We are easily holding our own, and with the spring will probably come +our opportunity." He clicked his teeth together. "What price then all +these suspected plots and futile intrigues?" + +"Don't be so damned cocksure," rapped out his uncle, his exasperation +showing in heightened color and snapping eyes. "It's that same +cocksureness which has almost brought the British Empire to the very +brink of dissolution." + +His nephew smiled tolerantly, and shifted his thickset figure to a more +comfortable position. + +"Now, now," he cautioned. "Remember what old Sawbones told you yesterday +about not exciting yourself. Said you weren't to read or talk about this +bally old war. Leave the worrying to Kitchener; he'll see we chaps do +our part." + +"If everything were left to Kitchener!" Sir Percival thumped the arm of +his chair. "Some of us would sleep easier in our beds. And I know you +chaps at the front will do your part. Would to God I could be with you!" +glancing at his shrunken and useless left leg. "If I could only take a +pot at the beggars!" + +"According to your belief the firing line will shortly be on English +soil," chaffed his nephew, avoiding looking at his companion. He knew the +tragic circumstances surrounding his uncle's maimed condition, and wished +to avoid anything touching upon sentiment. + +"If the plans to undermine England's home government are perfected and +carried out, every man, woman and child will have to band together to +repel invasion." Sir Percival lowered his voice. "If there are any +able-bodied men left here." + +"Don't be so pessimistic. Kitchener has built up a great army, and is +only waiting the proper moment to launch it in the field." + +"The best of England has volunteered," agreed Sir Percival, "but what +about the slackers? What about the coal strikes--the trouble in our +munition factories? All are chargeable to the Kaiser's war machine which +overlooks nothing in its complete preparedness. Preparedness--England +doesn't yet know the meaning of the word." + +"It's time for me to leave," said the young officer, consulting his +watch. "Take my word for it, Uncle, we're not going to the demnition +bowwows--count on England's bulldog grit. God help Germany when the +Allies get into that country!" + +"When--ah, when?" echoed Sir Percival. "I hope that I live to see the +day. Tell me, boy," his voice softening, "how is it with you and Molly?" + +His nephew reddened under his tan. "Molly doesn't care for a chap like +me," he muttered. + +"Did she tell you so?" + +"Well, no. You see, Uncle, it--eh--doesn't seem the thing to suggest +that a charming girl like Molly tie herself to a fellow who may get his +at any time." + +"Piffle!" Sir Percival's shaggy eyebrows met in a frown. "Sentimental +nonsense! You and Molly were great chums a year ago. You told me yourself +that you hoped to marry her; I even spoke to her mother about the +suitability of the match." + +"You had no right to," blazed his nephew. "It was damned impertinent +interference." + +"You have not always thought so," retorted Sir Percival bitterly. "What +had that most impertinent American girl you met in Germany to do with +your change of front toward Molly?" + +"I must insist that you speak more respectfully of Kathleen." John +Hargraves' expression altered. "If you must know, I asked Kathleen to +marry me and--she refused." + +"I said she was impertinent. All Americans are; they don't know any +better," fumed his uncle. "Forget her, John; think of Molly. I tell you +the child loves you. Don't wreck her happiness for the sake of a +fleeting fancy." + +"Fleeting fancy?" John Hargraves shook his head sorrowfully. "When +Kathleen refused me I was hard hit; so hit I can't marry any other girl. +Don't let's talk of it." He smiled wistfully as he held out his hand. +"Time's up, Uncle; the train leaves in an hour, and I must get my kit. +Good-by, sir. Wish me luck." And before the older man could stop him he +was retreating down the hall. + +Sir Percival stared vacantly about the room. "The last of his race," he +muttered. "God help England! The toll is heavy." + +In spite of his haste John Hargraves was late in reaching Victoria +Station, and had barely time to take his place before the train pulled +slowly out. As he looked down the long trainshed, he encountered the +fixed stare of a tall, well-groomed man standing near one of the pillars. +Hargraves looked, and looked again; then his hand flew up, and leaning +far out of his compartment he shouted to a porter. But his message was +lost in the roar of the more rapidly moving train, and the porter, +shaking a bewildered head, turned back. + +The crowd of women and children and a few men, which had gathered to +witness the troop train's departure, was silently dispersing when an +obsequious porter approached the tall stranger whose appearance had so +excited John Hargraves. + +"Ye keb's out 'ere, sir," he said. "This way, sir," and as the stranger +made no move to follow him, he leaned forward and lifted the latter's top +coat from his arm. "Let me carry this 'ere for you, gov'ner," then in a +whisper that none could overhear, he said in German: "For your life, +follow me." + +"Go on," directed the stranger in English, pausing to adjust his cravat, +and made his leisurely way after the hurrying porter. The latter stopped +finally by the side of a somewhat battered-looking limousine. + +"'Ere ye are, sir," announced the porter, not waiting for the +chauffeur to pull open the door. "I most amissed ye," he rattled on. +"Kotched the keb, sir, an' tucked yer boxes inside, then I looked for +ye at the bookin' office, 'cording to directions. Let me tuck this +'ere laprobe over ye." + +As the stranger stepped into the limousine and seated himself the porter +clambered in after him. + +"They're on," he whispered, his freckles showing plainly against his +white face. "The chauffeur is one of us, he'll take you straight to our +landing. This packet's for you. Good luck!" And pocketing the sovereign +offered, the porter, voicing loud thanks, backed from the limousine and +slammed the door shut. + +The outskirts of London were reached before the man in the limousine +opened the slip of paper thrust into his hand by the porter. It was +wrapped about a small electric torch and a book of cigarette papers. +Slowly he read the German script in the note. + +Be at the rendezvous by Thursday. Hans, the chauffeur, has full +directions. Do not miss the seventeenth. + +After rereading the contents of the note the man tore it into tiny bits +and, not content with that, stuffed them among the tobacco in his pipe. +Striking a match he lighted his pipe and planting his feet on the bag he +gazed long and earnestly at his initials stamped on the much labeled +buckskin. The slowing up of the limousine aroused him from his +meditations, and he glanced out of the window to see which way they were +headed. London, the metropolis of the civilized world, lay behind him. +Catching his chauffeur's backward glance, he signaled him to continue +onward as, removing his pipe, he muttered: + +"_Gott strafe England_!" + + + + +CHAPTER II + +OUT OF THE VOID + + +Slowly, the sullen roar of artillery, the rattle of Maxims and rifles +sank fitfully away. A tall raw-boned major of artillery stretched his +cramped limbs in the observation station, paused to look with callous +eyes over the devastated fields before him, then sought the trench. +Earlier in the day the Allies had been shelled out of an advance position +by the enemy and had fallen back on the entrenchments. + +"Devilish hot stuff, shrapnel," commented a brother officer as Major +Seymour stopped at his side. + +The Major nodded absently, and without further reply advanced a few paces +to meet an ammunition corporal who was obviously seeking him. "Well?" he +demanded, as the non-commissioned officer saluted. + +"Only twenty rounds left, Major." The Corporal lowered his voice. +"Captain Hargraves sent word to rush reinforcements here as soon as it is +dark, sir." + +Major Seymour glanced with unconcealed impatience at his wrist watch. +God! Would night never come! + +"Can't we get our wounded to the base hospital, Major?" asked a +younger officer. He had only joined the unit thirty-six hours before +and while he had faced the baptism of fire gallantly, the ghastly +carnage about him shook his nerve. He was not fed up with horrors as +were his brother officers. + +"The wounded would stand small chance of reaching safety if the German +gunners sighted them. They must wait for darkness," replied Seymour. +"Here, take a pull at my flask. Got potted yourself, didn't you?" +noticing a thin stream of blood trickling down his companion's sleeve. + +"Only a flesh wound--of no moment," protested the young man, flushing at +the thought that his commanding officer might have misunderstood his +question. "I'm afraid Captain Hargraves is in a bad way." + +"Hargraves!" The Major spun on his heel. "Where is he?" + +"This way, sir," and the Lieutenant led him past groups of men and +officers. It was an appalling scene of desolation. The approach of night +had brought a slight drizzling rain, and the ground, pitted with shell +holes, was slimy with wet, greasy mud. Nearly all the trees in the +vicinity were blasted as if by lightning, and along the right hand side +of the road was a line of A.S.S. carts and limbers blown to pieces. One +horse, completely disemboweled, lay on his back, the inside arch of his +ribs plainly showing. His leader was a mass of entrails lying about, and +on the other side lay four or five more, one with a foreleg blown clear +off at the shoulder, one minus a head. A half-dozen motor cycles and over +a dozen push bikes lay in the mud with some unrecognizable shapes that +had been riding them. Between the advance trenches, in No Man's Land, the +ground was thickly strewn with corpses of Scotties killed in the charge. + +"The Huns had us cold as to range," volunteered the Lieutenant, loss +of blood and reaction from excitement loosening his tongue. "They +outed five guns complete with detachments by direct hits. Here we are, +sir," and he paused near a demolished gun emplacement. The ground +about was a shambles. + +Major Seymour stepped up to one of the figures lying upon the ground, +a mud-incrusted coat thrown over his legs. Several privates who had +been rendering what assistance they could, moved aside on the +approach of their superior officers. Hargraves opened his eyes as +Seymour knelt by him. + +"My number's up," he whispered, and the game smile which twisted his +white lips was pitiful. + +"Nonsense." Seymour's gruff tone concealed emotion. Hargraves' face +betrayed death's indelible sign. "You'll pull through, once you're back +at the hospital." + +Hargraves shook his head; he realized the futility of argument. + +"Have you pencil and paper?" he asked. + +"Yes." Seymour drew out his despatch book and removed a page. "What is +it, John?" But some minutes passed before his question received an +answer, and Hargraves' voice was noticeably weaker, as he dictated: + +DEAR KATHLEEN: + +I saw Karl in London at Victoria Station. I swear it was he ... warn +Uncle ... Kathleen ... Kathleen ... + +There was a long silence; then Seymour laid aside the unneeded brandy +flask and slowly rose to his feet. He mechanically folded the scrap of +paper, but before slipping it inside his pocket, the blank side arrested +his attention. + +"Heavens! John never gave me her address or last name. Who is Kathleen?" +he exclaimed. + +More shaken than he was willing to confess even to himself, by the loss +of his pal, he stared bitterly across the battlefield toward the enemy's +lines. How cheerily Hargraves had greeted him that morning on his return +from a week's furlough in England! How glad he had been to rejoin the +unit and be once again with his comrades on the firing line! A gallant +spirit had passed to the Great Beyond. + +Back in his observation station Major Seymour an hour later viewed the +gathering darkness with satisfaction. Two hours more and it would be +difficult to see a hand before one's face. Undoubtedly the sorely needed +ammunition and reserves would reach the trenches in time, and the wounded +could be safely transferred to the base hospital. The Allies' line had +held, and in spite of their desperate assaults the Germans had been +unable to find a vulnerable spot. + +Seymour passed his hand over his eyes. Against the darkness his fevered +imagination pictured advancing "gray phantoms." "They come like demons +from the hell they have created," he muttered. "I hope to God they +don't use 'starlights' over our trenches tonight. Flesh and blood can +stand no more." + +The darkness grew denser and more dense. In the long battle front of the +Allies no sentinel saw a powerful Aviatik biplane glide over the trenches +and fly onward toward its goal. Several times the airman inspected his +phosphorescent compass and map, each time thereafter altering his course. +Finally, making a sign to his observer, he planed to a lower level and, +satisfied that he had reached the proper distance, a bomb was released. + +Down through the black void the infernal machine sped. A sickening +pause--then a deafening detonation, followed by another and another, cut +the stillness, and the earth beneath was aflame with light as the high +explosives and shells stored in the concealed ammunition depot were set +off. Nothing escaped destruction; flesh and blood, mortar and brick went +skyward together, and a great gash in the earth was all that was left to +tell the story of the enemy's successful raid. + +From a safe height the German airman and his observer watched their +handiwork. Suddenly the latter caught sight of an aeroplane winging its +way toward them. + +"Bauerschreck!" he shouted, and the airman followed his pointed finger. +Instantly under his skillful manipulation their biplane climbed into the +air in long graceful spirals until they were six thousand feet above +ground. But as fast as they went, their heavier Aviatik was no match in +speed for the swift French aeroplane, and the bullets from the latter's +machine gun were soon uncomfortably near. + +The German airman's face was set in grim lines as he maneuvered his +biplane close to his pursuer and, dodging and twisting in sharp dips and +curves, spoiled the aim of the Frenchman at the machine gun, while his +own revolver and that of his observer kept up a continuous fusillade. + +For twenty minutes the unequal fight continued. It could not last much +longer. Despair pulled at the German's heartstrings as he saw his +observer topple for a moment in his seat, then pitch forward into space. +The biplane tipped dangerously, righted itself and sped like a homing +pigeon in the direction of the German lines. There was nothing left but +to fly for it. The German dared not look behind; only by the mercy of God +were the Frenchman's shots going wild. It could not last; he must get the +range. Surely, surely they were past the last of the Allies' trenches? + +The German turned and fired his revolver desperately at his pursuers. +Glory to God! one of his bullets punctured the latter's gasoline tank. It +must be so--the French aeroplane was apparently making a forced landing. +The shout on the German's lips was checked by a stinging sensation in his +right side. The Frenchman had his range at last. + +Almost simultaneously his machine turned completely over. With groping, +desperate fingers the German strove to gain control over the levels and +right himself. In vain--and as he started in the downward rush, the +hurrying wind carried the frenzied whisper: + +"The cross, dear God, the cross!" + + + + +CHAPTER III + +POWERS THAT PREY + + +Not far as the crow flies from the scene of the German airman's +catastrophe, but with its presence hidden from general knowledge, was +the Grosses Hauptquartier, the pulsing heart and brain of the Imperial +fighting forces. Vigilant sentries patrolled the park leading from the +chateau commandeered for the use of the War Lord and his entourage, to +the quarters of the Great General Staff. In a secluded room of the +latter building a dozen men sat in conference about a table littered +with papers; they had been there since early evening, but no man +permitted his glance to stray to the dial of a library clock whose hands +were gradually approaching two o'clock. Truly, the chiefs of the +divisions were tireless toilers. + +The Herr Chief of the Great General Staff was emphasizing his remarks +with vigor unusual even for him, when the telephone, no respecter of +persons, sent out its tinkling call. Hitching his chair closer to the +table, the Herr Chief of the Aviation Corps removed the receiver from +the instrument. A courteous silence prevailed as he took the message. +Replacing the receiver, he turned and confronted his confrères. + +"An outpost reports," he began formally, "that Captain von Eltz in his +Aviatik biplane was pursued and wrecked by a French airman who was +obliged to make a forced landing inside our lines. The French airmen were +shot in their attempt to escape. Owing to the Aviatik biplane catching in +the branches of a tree and thereby breaking his fall Captain von Eltz was +rescued alive, although desperately wounded. The observer who accompanied +him is dead. On regaining consciousness Captain von Eltz reported that +his mission was successful, the new ammunition depot having been +completely destroyed by his bomb." + +A low hum of approval greeted his words. "Well done, gallant von Eltz!" +exclaimed one of the hearers. "He deserves the Iron Cross." + +"He will receive it," declared another officer enthusiastically. + +"The information as to the location of this new ammunition depot, which +von Eltz has just destroyed, came from the man of whom I have been +telling you tonight," broke in the Herr Chief of the Secret Service. "He +has been our eyes and ears in England. Gentlemen, is it your wish that he +be intrusted with the delicate mission of which we have just been +speaking?" + +The eyes of the Herr Chief of the Great General Staff swept his +companions. "Is it that I speak for all?" A quick affirmative answered +him. "Then, we leave the matter entirely in your hands." The Herr Chief +of the Secret Service bowed. "You know your agents; the selection is left +to you, but see there is no unnecessary delay." + +"There will be no delay," responded the Herr Chief of the Secret Service. +"My agent is not far from here. With your permission, I take my leave," +and saluting he hastened from the room. + +The sun was halfway in the heavens when a limousine drew up before a +wayside inn near a semi-demolished city. Before the orderly sitting by +the chauffeur could swing himself to the ground, a tall man had stepped +to the side of the car and opened the door. For a second the Herr Chief +of the Secret Service and the stranger contemplated each other without +speaking, then the former motioned to the vacant seat by his side. + +"We can talk as we ride," he announced brusquely. "Your luggage--" + +"Is here," thrusting a much labeled suitcase inside the limousine and +jumping in after it. + +At a low-toned word from the Herr Chief of the Secret Service the orderly +saluted and quickly resumed his seat by the chauffeur. There was a short +silence inside the limousine as the powerful car continued up the road. +They were stopped at the first railroad crossing by a trainload of +wounded soldiers. + +"Your pardon," and before the Herr Chief of the Secret Service could stop +him, the stranger pulled down the sash curtains of all the windows. "You +are well known; being recognized is the penalty of greatness. It is to my +interest to escape such a distinction." + +"I approve your caution, Herr Captain," observed the older man. "Will you +smoke?" producing his cigarette case, and as the other smilingly helped +himself and accepted a lighted match, he surveyed him critically. Paying +no attention to his chief's scrutiny, the Secret Service agent +contemplated the luxurious appointments of the limousine with +satisfaction and puffed contentedly at his cigarette. His air of breeding +was unmistakable, but the devil-may-care sparkle in his gray-blue eyes +redeemed an otherwise expressionless face from being considered heavy. +The spirits of the Herr Chief of the Secret Service rose. His +recollection and judgment was still good; his agent, by men and women, +would be deemed extremely handsome. + +"The new ammunition depot was destroyed last night by our airmen," he +said, with some abruptness. "Your information was reliable." + +"Pardon, is not my information always reliable?" interpolated the Secret +Service agent. + +"So it has proved," acknowledged his chief cordially, but a mark was +mentally registered against the Herr Captain. German bureaucracy does not +tolerate presumption from a subordinate. "And owing to your excellent +record, you have been selected for a most delicate mission." + +"Under the same conditions?" + +"The Imperial Government cannot be questioned," retorted his chief, his +anger rising. + +"I am different from other operatives." A puff of cigarette smoke +wreathed upward from the speaker's lips. "A free-lance." + +"And you have been given a free hand. We have not inquired into your +methods of procuring information, being content with the result." + +"And does not the result justify not only your confidence but promotion?" + +The Herr Chief of the Secret Service considered before replying; then he +answered with a question. + +"Have you been to Ireland?" + +The Secret Service agent smiled grimly as he took from his pocket a book +of cigarette papers. Counting them over, he selected the seventeenth +paper, and passed it to his companion, who examined the small blank sheet +with interest. "Just a moment," and the young man again slipped his hand +into a vest pocket, this time bringing out a nickel flashlight. Pressing +his thumb on the switch he held the glass bulb against the rice paper. In +a few minutes a faint tracing appeared on the blank page, which grew +brighter as the rays of light generated more heat. + +"Hold it a moment," said the Herr Chief of the Secret Service. "Keep it +over the bulb," and taking out his notebook he made several entries, then +closed it with a snap. + +"Finished?" As he asked the question, the Secret Service agent replaced +his pocket flashlight, drew out his tobacco pouch, poured a little in the +rice paper, and proceeded to roll the cigarette with practiced fingers. + +"About Sheerness?" questioned the Herr Chief of the Secret Service. + +"All is arranged." + +"Good." The Herr Chief of the Secret Service permitted himself to settle +back more comfortably on the roomy seat so that he faced his companion. +In the closed and semi-darkened limousine there was no danger of their +conversation being overheard. + +"I reserved for myself, Herr Captain," said the Herr Chief slowly, "the +pleasure of informing you that your valuable services to the Kaiser and +the Fatherland"--the Secret Service agent raised his hat--"are +recognized. The Cross may yet be yours." + +"How can I express my gratitude?" stammered the Secret Service agent. + +"By not jumping to hasty conclusions," smiled his chief. "Never again +question your orders." + +"Be just," protested the Secret Service agent warmly. "I have risked my +life daily for the Kaiser and the Fatherland in a hostile country. There +have been hours which I do not care to remember." The speaker's tone grew +husky. "Some day--a short shift; and I must make provision for another." + +"I understood you were not married?" + +There was a barely perceptible pause. "Spies do not marry, sir." + +"And if a Secret Service agent has a healthy regard for his own safety, +he is careful of serious entanglements," cautioned his chief. "However, +judging by your past work, I believe you are quite able to take care of +yourself. Thanks to the warnings and information of your organization we +have been able to meet some of the Allies' contemplated concerted +attacks, and your information as to the sailing of transports and the +movements of ammunition trains has been of inestimable service." + +"Do you still wish me to keep up this particular work?" + +"No." The Herr Chief of the Secret Service leaned forward in his +earnestness. "This war has demonstrated again and again that victory goes +with the heaviest artillery." + +"True! Antwerp, one of the strongest fortified cities on the Continent, +crumpled up before our siege guns," broke in his companion. + +The older man paid no attention to the interruption, but continued +gravely: "Hand to hand conflict and cavalry charges are a thing of the +past. We shell out the enemies' trenches from batteries six to twelve +miles away. All this you already know; I repeat it now to explain what I +am about to say. We are in possession of the mining district of France, +they are getting hard pushed for ammunition; England's supply is not +inexhaustible; Russia cannot half arm her fighting forces. They one and +all are appealing to the manufacturing capitalists of the United States +to furnish them with arms and ammunition." + +"And with success," dryly. + +The Herr Chief of the Secret Police frowned. "It must be stopped. You are +to go to America--" + +"I?" + +"Yes, at once. You have a genius for organization; your work in England +proved that. Let us know what merchant vessels and passenger steamers are +carrying munitions of war. Be sure, doubly sure, that your information is +correct, for we shall act upon it. Our Government stands ready to take +most drastic measures to stop such traffic." + +"I see." The Secret Service agent stroked his clean-shaven chin in +meditative silence. "In England I went hand in hand with death; in the +United States I am likely to outlive my usefulness." + +"Perhaps," with dry significance. "But recollect our Government is ready +to adopt _any_ expedient to stop the exporting of arms and ammunition to +our enemies." + +"As for instance--?" + +"Leave our methods to us; you have your work. You will make your +headquarters at Washington City. There you will be able to place your +hand on the pulse of the nation, and there you will find--idle women." + +"Have we not already representatives at the United States capital?" + +The Herr Chief of the Secret Service eyed him keenly. "Our embassy is +concerned only with the diplomatic world. You are to send us word whether +the United States Government arsenals are working under a full complement +of men; of the orders placed by the Navy Department for submarines, and +the activities obtaining in private munition plants. Be certain and study +the undercurrent of sentiment for or against us. Report as you have +heretofore." + +"How am I to get in touch with the private shipyards and munition +plants?" + +"I will give you letters to residents loyal to their Fatherland. A number +of the owners of powder companies and munition plants usually winter in +Washington. I am also told that Mexican juntas still make Washington +their headquarters." The eyes of the Secret Service agent were boring +into him, but the older man's countenance remained a mask. "You must bear +in mind that if the American capitalists persist in selling assistance to +our enemies the attention of the United States must be diverted to other +issues...." + +"Such a plan could only be carried out by creating a necessity of +home consumption for war munitions," supplemented the Secret Service +agent softly. + +Without replying the Herr Chief of the Secret Service pulled forward a +small despatch-box from a cleverly concealed pocket in the upholstery of +the limousine. + +"We are motoring to your nearest destination," he said soberly, +opening the box. "Here are your letters of credit, your passport, and +introductions to our friends across the water," handing him a leather +wallet. "They will see that you are properly introduced to Washington +hostesses. Go out in society; I am told it is most delightful at the +Capital. Make friends with influential public men and prominent +Washingtonians. Above all," with emphasis, "cultivate the gentler +sex; remember, idle women make excellent pawns, my dear Herr Captain +von Mueller." + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +"SHOULD AULD ACQUAINTANCE BE FORGOT?" + + +Mrs. Winslow Whitney, gathering her wraps together, stepped from the +limousine. + +"I shall not need you again tonight, Henry," she said, as the chauffeur +sprang to the sidewalk to assist her. + +"Very good, ma'am," and touching his cap respectfully, he took from the +limousine the heavy fur laprobe and hastened to ring the doorbell for +his mistress. + +Halfway to her front door Mrs. Whitney paused to scan the outward +appearance of her home. The large, Colonial, brick double house, with +lights partly showing behind handsomely curtained windows, looked the +embodiment of comfort, but Mrs. Whitney heaved a sharp sigh of +discontent. The surroundings were not pleasing to her. Again and again +she had pleaded with her husband to give up the old house and move into a +more fashionable neighborhood. But with the tenacity which easy-going men +sometimes exhibit, Winslow Whitney clung to the home of his ancestors. It +had descended from father to son for generations, and finally to him, the +last of the direct male line. Although business had encroached and noisy +electric cars passed his door, and even government buildings dwarfed the +impressive size of the old mansion, he declined to give up his home, +stating that he had been born there and there he would die. + +"Very well, you and Providence can settle the point between you, Dad," +answered Kathleen, his only child, who had been brought in to use her +persuasive powers upon her irate parent. "But as long as mother and I +have to inhabit this old shell you must, simply must, put new works +inside her." + +And Whitney, with the generosity which marked his every action to those +he loved, rehabilitated and remodeled the mansion until it finally +rivaled in up-to-date completeness the more ornate homes of the newly +rich in the fashionable Northwest. + +"Has Miss Kathleen returned?" asked Mrs. Whitney, handing her wraps to +the breathless Vincent, who had hurried to answer the chauffeur's +imperious ring. + +"No, ma'am." + +"When she does return, tell her that I wish to see her." + +"Yes, ma'am." + +"Is Mr. Whitney in his studio?" + +"Yes, ma'am. Shall I send Julie to you?" + +"Tell her to go to my room and wait for me." As she spoke Mrs. Whitney +crossed the broad hall and, passing the Colonial staircase, entered the +elevator. The automatic car carried her to the first bedroom floor but, +changing her mind, she did not open the door; instead she pressed the +electric button marked "Attic." Her slight feeling of irritation aroused +by not being met downstairs by any member of her family was increased by +stepping from the elevator into a dark hall. + +"Winslow!" she called. Meeting with no response she walked over to the +opposite wall and by the aid of the light in the elevator found the +electric switch and turned it on. Not pausing to look about her, she went +to the back of the large high-roofed attic and tried the handle of a +closed door. Finding that it would not open to her touch, she rapped +sharply on the panel. She waited several seconds before she heard a chair +pushed back and the sound of advancing footsteps. The inside bolt was +shot back with distinct force. + +"Well, what is it?" demanded Whitney, jerking open the door. "Oh, my +dear," his tone changing at sight of his wife, "I had no idea you were +returning so soon." + +"Do you call half-past six o'clock soon?" asked Mrs. Whitney following +him into the room. "Winslow, Winslow, I warn you not to become too +absorbed in your work." + +Whitney laughed somewhat ruefully. "Does the kettle call the pot black? +What do you do but give up your time to the Sisters in Unity? I'm a +secondary consideration. There, there," noting his wife's expression. +"Don't let us dispute over trifles. I'm making headway, Minna--headway." + +"I congratulate you, dear." Mrs. Whitney laid a caressing hand on his +touseled gray hair. "I never doubted that you would. But, Winslow, such +complete absorption in your work is not healthy. The doctor has warned +you not to shut yourself up in this room for hours, and particularly that +you are not to lock your door on the inside. Remember your recent attacks +of vertigo." + +"McLane's an ass. The vertigo sprang from indigestion; hereafter, I'll be +more careful what I eat," he protested. "There's nothing the matter with +this room; it's well ventilated and heated. And I will lock my door--I +won't be interrupted by any jackass servant wanting to feed me +pap"--pointing scornfully toward the hall where a tray laden with a +teapot and tempting dishes stood on a table near the door. "Do you not +yet realize, Minna, that this is my life work?" With a sweeping gesture +he indicated the models, brass, wood, and wax, which filled every cranny +of the sparsely furnished room. + +Mrs. Whitney sighed. The room was her bugbear. She had dignified it with +the name of "studio," but it looked what it was--a workshop. Winslow +Whitney, considered in clubdom as a dilettante and known to scientists as +an inventor of ability, frowned impatiently as he observed his wife's air +of disapprobation. + +"My dear, we must agree to disagree," he said, lowering his voice. "My +brain is carrying too much just now; I cannot be confused by side issues. +Everything must wait until my invention is completed." + +"Is your daughter's welfare of secondary importance?" + +"What?" Whitney surveyed his wife in startled surprise, and her handsome +face flushed under his scrutiny. "What is the matter with Kathleen's +welfare? Do I illtreat her? Is she refused money? Do I make her spend +hours here helping me in this"--sarcastically--"sweatshop? Four years ago +she took up this fad of painting; you encouraged her at it--you know you +did," shaking an accusing finger at his wife. "You persuaded me to let +her study in Germany, and she hasn't been worth a button since--as far +as home comfort goes." + +"Winslow!" + +"It's true," doggedly. "Formerly she was willing and glad to help me with +my modeling, help me in making calculations, tracings--now she spends her +time philandering." + +"All young girls flirt, Winslow." + +"But Kathleen was always so shy," Whitney shook his head. "Now I'm asked +at the club if she isn't engaged to this man and that." + +"Will you never realize that Kathleen is exceptionally pretty, with the +gift of fascination?" + +"A dangerous power," said Whitney gravely. "I do not entirely approve of +the men whose attentions Kathleen encourages." + +"As for instance...." + +"Young Potter, and this Baron Frederic von Fincke--you know, Minna, I do +not approve of international marriages, and I am very glad that Kathleen +refused that Englishman, John Hargraves, whom she met in Germany...." + +"I sometimes wonder if she regrets," said Mrs. Whitney musingly. +"Kathleen hears from him occasionally--and at times she is so very odd in +her manner." + +"Humph! I hope not. I don't want her to be a war bride," retorted +Whitney. "And all Englishmen of family are at the front these days. You +don't think, Minna," with quickly suppressed nervousness, "that Kathleen +can be fond of Sinclair Spencer." + +"Sinclair Spencer?" echoed Mrs. Whitney. "Why he is double her age, and +besides, Winslow, his habits are not...." + +"I know," gloomily, as his wife paused. "I would certainly never give my +consent to such a marriage. But, Minna, he is forever hanging around +Kathleen and haunts this house." + +"So much so that Kathleen is heartily sick of him," said Mrs. Whitney +comfortingly. "She is not the girl to really care for a man of his +caliber. After all, Winslow," unable to restrain the dig, "you are +responsible for Sinclair Spencer's intimate footing in this house...." + +"Intimate footing? Nothing of the sort. Just because I employed him as my +patent attorney, you and Kathleen did not have to throw yourselves at +his head and have him sitting in your pockets." + +Mrs. Whitney laughed outright. "My dear Winslow, neither Kathleen nor I +encouraged him to come here. If you are afraid," her eyes twinkling, +"that Kathleen considers his attentions seriously, I will sound her on +the subject. And this brings me back to what I was going to say +originally; you must inquire about the men Kathleen meets. She is at the +impressionable age and as apt as not to pick up an undesirable _parti_." + +"Why didn't Kathleen remain a schoolgirl?" fumed Whitney. "Then we only +had to engage competent nurses and look up their references and our +responsibility ended." + +"Your responsibility is just beginning," said Mrs. Whitney cheerfully. +"By the way, the days are short, and Kathleen should be at home by five +o'clock at least; this is a rough neighborhood for a beautiful girl to +walk through unattended." + +"My forefathers found no fault with this neighborhood," replied Whitney +stiffly. "Then it was fashionable, now it is a good respectable business +section; and if dividends continue to dwindle you may thank your stars we +are in a business section--for convenience' sake. I will not give up this +house, Minna, even to please you." + +"Dear Winslow, don't excite yourself." Mrs. Whitney laid an affectionate +hand on his arm. "Remember Dr. McLane's advice ... and dinner will be +served in an hour. Please come down and get it while it is hot," and not +waiting to hear his halfhearted promise she walked from the room and +closed the door. It was some seconds before Whitney resumed his +interrupted work. + +"Only a little while now," he muttered--"only a little while." + +Before proceeding to her bedroom Mrs. Whitney sought the suite of rooms +which had been given to Kathleen on her coming of age two months before. +Finding the prettily decorated and furnished sitting-room empty she +walked into the adjoining bedroom and saw Kathleen sitting at her +dressing table. + +"What detained you?" she asked kindly, as the girl turned on her +entrance. + +"The symphony concert was not over until twenty-five minutes ago. Won't +you sit down, dear?" pulling forward a chair. "I must go on with my +dressing. My pink satin, Julie, thank you," as the French maid appeared. + +"Are you dining out tonight?" in surprise. "I thought you told me you had +no engagement for this evening." + +"I hadn't, mother. This invitation was quite unexpected," explained +Kathleen, arranging her hair with care. "On my return from the concert I +found this note from Miss Kiametia Grey asking me to fill a place and +prevent thirteen at her dinner tonight." + +"I see." Mrs. Whitney inspected the dainty note-paper and forceful +handwriting through her gold lorgnette. The word of Miss Kiametia Grey +was as the law of the Medes and Persians to her many friends, and Mrs. +Whitney had a high regard for the wealthy spinster who cloaked her +warm-hearted impulsiveness under an erratic and often brusque manner. +"You cannot very well refuse. Who sent you those orchids?" pointing to a +handsome bouquet lying half out of its box on the bed. + +"Sinclair Spencer," briefly. "Be careful, Julie, don't muss my hair," +and discussing unimportant matters Kathleen hurried her dressing as much +as possible. + +"Not knowing you were going out I told Henry he would not be needed +tonight," said Mrs. Whitney, suddenly waking up to the fact that Kathleen +was ready to go. "You had better order a herdic." + +"Oh!" Kathleen gazed at her blankly. "And the dinner is at the Chevy +Chase Club." + +"Pardon, madame," Julie, the maid, spoke in rapid French. "Mademoiselle +Grey telephoned to ask if mademoiselle had returned and said that she +hoped she could dine with her. Knowing madame had no engagement this +evening, I took the great liberty of telling Henry to be here with the +limousine." + +"Quite right, Julie," Mrs. Whitney rose. "Don't forget your orchids, +Kathleen." + +"I am not going to wear them; they"--not meeting Mrs. Whitney's +eyes--"they would stain my dress. Good night, mother. I am likely to be +late; don't either you or Dad wait up for me." + +An hour later, her naturally rosy cheeks a deeper tint from the +consciousness that she was late, Kathleen made a charming picture as she +stood just within the entrance to the assembly room of the Chevy Chase +Club, waiting to greet her hostess who was at that moment marshalling her +guests out to the private dining-room. It was several minutes before Miss +Kiametia Grey discovered Kathleen's presence. + +"So very glad you could come," she said, squeezing her hand warmly. "Not +only did I want to be helped over the thirteen bugaboo, but I have such a +nice dinner partner for you. Captain Miller. Yes, Judge, you are to take +me out. Kathleen, introduce yourself to the Captain." + +"Am I to find him by the process of elimination?" laughed Kathleen, as +Miss Kiametia laid her hand on the Judge's arm. + +"He is just back of you," she called, and Kathleen turned around. Every +vestige of color left her cheeks as she encountered the steadfast gaze of +a tall, broad-shouldered man in immaculate evening dress. + +"You?" she blurted out, her white lips barely forming the word. "_You_?" + +There was an agonizing pause, then Captain Miller stepped toward her. + +"Suppose we go out to dinner," he suggested suavely. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +AN EVENTFUL EVENING + + +While keeping up an animated conversation with Judge Powers, Miss +Kiametia Grey saw with inward perturbation that her vis-à-vis, Captain +Miller, was spending much of his time between courses making bread +pellets. What possessed Kathleen Whitney? She was usually the soul of +courtesy, and yet her hostess had not seen her address one word to her +dinner partner. Possibly Kathleen had taken offense at her off-hand +introduction to the handsome officer. But that was not like the +warmhearted, charming girl she had come to love and admire, and Miss +Kiametia ate her dinner with less and less relish as she tried to keep +up her end of the conversation and forget about the pair seated +opposite her. + +Captain Charles Miller had just finished helping himself to an ice when, +from the tail of his eye, he saw Kathleen quickly palm his place card. + +"Let us make it an exchange," he said, and reaching across her plate, +picked up the pretty hand-painted Japanese card bearing her name, and +slipped it inside the pocket of his white vest. + +For the first time that evening there was color in Kathleen's cheeks. + +"You have not lost your--" + +"Courage?" + +"Effrontery," she finished. "I cannot see that the years have brought +much change." + +"To you, most certainly not," and there was no mistaking the admiration +in his eyes. + +"I object to personalities." She paused. "And particularly on slight +acquaintance." + +Miller bowed. "It is my loss that we have not met before," and he did not +miss the look of relief that lighted her eyes for the fraction of a +second. Swiftly he changed the subject. "Who is the man glaring at us +from the end of the table?" + +"Baron Frederic von Fincke." Her manner was barely civil and that was +all. Under his heavy eyebrows Miller's eyes snapped. She should talk to +him, and he squared his broad shoulders. + +"I have already met the young girl sitting next him," he said, "and who +is her dinner partner?" + +"Captain Edwin Sayre, United States Army." + +"Of what branch of the service?" + +"Ordnance." + +"Is it true, Miss Kathleen," broke in the man seated on her right, "that +Captain Sayre has resigned from the army to take a position in the Du +Pont Powder Works?" + +"I believe so." + +"Is that not establishing a bad precedent, Mr. Spencer?" inquired Miller. +He had met the lawyer on his arrival before dinner. "Suppose other +officers follow his example, what will the army do in case of hostilities +with--eh--Mexico?" + +"Probably the officers will apply for active service." Sinclair Spencer, +glad of the pretext that talking to Miller gave him of bending nearer +Kathleen, turned his back on his dinner partner. That Kathleen had given +him her full attention throughout the dinner had partly compensated for +the fact that she was not wearing his orchids. It had been weeks since he +had enjoyed so uninterrupted a talk with her. That her manner was +distrait and her replies somewhat haphazard escaped him utterly. The +drive to Chevy Chase was both long and cold, and while waiting for Miss +Kiametia's other guests to assemble before he presented himself, he had +enjoyed more than one cocktail. That stimulant, combined with Miss +Kiametia's excellent champagne, had dulled his perceptions. "The officers +will be given their old rank," continued Spencer. "In the meantime they +will have gained most valuable experience." + +"There is really no prospect now of a war with Mexico." As she spoke +Kathleen looked anxiously across at Miss Kiametia, but her hostess showed +no disposition to give the signal for rising. Kathleen was aware by his +thick speech and flushed features that Spencer had taken more wine than +was good for him. She desired to ignore Captain Miller, but she was +equally desirous not to encourage Spencer's attentions. She moved her +chair back as far as she could from the table to avoid the latter's near +presence as he bent toward her. Deliberately she turned and continued her +remarks to Miller. "As soon as a fair election is held and a president +elected, he will be recognized by our Government." + +Miller laughed. "A fair election and Mexico are a contradiction of terms. +Trouble there is by no means over. I hope that you are not a +peace-at-any-price American?" + +"Indeed I am not," and Kathleen's eyes sparkled. "I am for peace +with a punch." + +Again Spencer cut into the conversation, but his condition was so +apparent that Kathleen shrank from him. "Miss Kathleen, give me firs' +dance," he demanded, as Miss Kiametia laid aside her napkin and pushed +back her chair. + +In a second Baron Frederic von Fincke was by her side, and with a sigh of +thankfulness Kathleen accepted his eager demand for a dance, and they +hastened into the assembly room, which, stripped of its furniture, was +already filled with dancers. It was the regular Wednesday night dance at +the club and the room was crowded. Kathleen had no difficulty in avoiding +Captain Miller. Since her début she had reigned an acknowledged belle in +society, and she was quickly importuned by men eager for a dance. But as +she laughed and jested with her partners, she was conscious of lagging +time and numbing brain. Could she keep up the farce much longer? + +From one of the doorways Sinclair Spencer watched the gay scene with +surly discontent. An attempt to dance, while its result had no effect +upon his understanding, had caused his partner hastily to seek her +chaperon. His only ray of consolation was that she had not been Kathleen +Whitney. Come to think of it, she had never thanked him for his orchids. +The oversight worried him, and he was about to attempt to dodge the +dancers and cross the room in search of Kathleen when Baron von Fincke +stopped and addressed him. + +"She is very beautiful, your Miss Whitney," he said slowly. His English +was not fluent "But she has not the tact of her pretty mother. _She_ +would never have shown her avoidance of Captain Miller quite so plainly +as did Miss Whitney during dinner." + +"'Twasn't 'voidance," protested Spencer. "I cut him out." + +"Then why postpone your wooing?" The foreigner permitted no hint of his +secret amusement to creep into his voice as he glanced from Spencer to +where Kathleen was dancing. + +"Go-going to ask Kathleen tonight," replied Spencer, with drunken +dignity. "I'm no la-laggard. Speak to Whitney, too; though that isn't +important--he won't refuse." He cogitated darkly for a moment. "If he +does ... I'll make things hot for him...." + +"Hush!" Von Fincke laid a heavy hand on Spencer's shoulder as he looked +carefully about them; apparently no one was within earshot. "Collect your +wits. The time is not ripe for threats, Spencer. The invention is not yet +completed; until it is--no threats. We must not kill the goose before the +golden egg is laid." + +"Washn't makin' threats," stammered Spencer, startled by the angry gleam +in his companion's eyes. "Now, don't get mad, von Fincke, think of all +I've done in that Mex--" + +"Come this way," and with no gentle hand the foreigner propelled Spencer +down the hall out of sight of the guests and out of doors. + +Miss Kiametia Grey, enjoying watching the dancing as much as her guests +enjoyed participating in it, was interrupted in her desultory +conversation with two chaperons by one of the club attendants. Upon +receiving his message she made her way to where Kathleen and her partner +had just paused after a breathless extra. + +"Having a good time, dearie?" she questioned. "It is a shame to interrupt +your pleasure, but your father has telephoned that you must be at home by +midnight." + +"And your car waits, Cinderella," put in Spencer who, suddenly returning, +had overheard Miss Kiametia's remark. He had a particularly hard time +with the pronunciation of "Cinderella." + +The spinster favored him with a frown, and the back view of a sharp +shoulder blade. To her mid-Victorian mind Sinclair Spencer was not +conducting himself as a gentleman should, and her half-considered resolve +to drop him from her visiting list became adamantine as she observed his +appearance. Slipping her hand inside Kathleen's arm she led her to the +cloakroom. + +"Catch me asking fourteen to dinner again!" she exclaimed. "It always +dwindles to thirteen at the last moment, and I have a nervous chill until +the number is completed." + +"Whose place did I fill?" asked Kathleen, presenting her cloak check +to the maid. + +"Nobody's, to be quite candid," Miss Kiametia smiled ruefully. "My dinner +was originally twelve, but Captain Miller was so charming this afternoon +that I asked him on impulse, and then sent for you to pair off with him." + +"Thank you." The dryness of her tone was not lost on the spinster. There +were times when she wished to box Kathleen's ears. She was a born +matchmaker, and Kathleen's indifference to matrimonial opportunities was +a constant source of vexation to her. + +"Never saw two people look so ideally suited to each other," she snapped. +Kathleen started as if stung. "And I'm told mutual aversion is often a +good beginning for a romance. I never saw you discourteous before, +Kathleen; you simply ignored Captain Miller until dessert." + +"Possibly I had good reason." Kathleen's color rose. "Where, pray, did +you pick him up?" + +"Tut, tut! Don't forget you are talking to a woman nearly old enough to +be your mother." But Miss Kiametia's kind heart softened as she saw +Kathleen felt her words. "There, dearie, don't mind an old crosspatch. +Captain Miller was introduced to me by Senator Foster. You can see with +half an eye that Captain Miller is a gentleman born and bred. All ready? +Then I'll run back to my other guests. Come and see me Sunday," and with +a friendly wave of her hand, Miss Kiametia returned to the dining-room +where the dancers had adjourned for supper. + +Kathleen found her limousine waiting at the entrance, and bidding the +club attendant good-night she stepped inside the car, but as her +chauffeur started to close the door he was pushed to one side. + +"Fa-sher tele-telephoned I was to shee you home," announced Spencer, +striving to enunciate clearly. His haste and unsteady gait precipitated +him almost on top of the girl as he endeavored to seat himself by her +side. "D-don't get scared," placing a moist hand on her wrist. "Fa-sher's +orders. Ask H-Henry." + +The chauffeur touched his cap. "Mr. Whitney did telephone me to bring +Mr. Spencer back with you, Miss Kathleen," he volunteered, and +without waiting for further orders he banged to the door and climbed +into his seat. + +With an indignant exclamation Kathleen leaned over, seized the +speaking-tube and whistled through it. But apparently the roar of the +open throttle drowned the whistle, for Henry did not pick up his end of +the tube. As the car started down the drive a man jumped to the +running-board, jerked open the car door, and without ceremony pushed +Spencer into a corner and seated himself between the latter and Kathleen. + +"Hope I didn't keep you waiting, Miss Whitney," he apologized. "Sorry to +have been late." + +Kathleen shrank back. She did not need the light from the lamp at the +entrance of the club grounds to tell her the intruder was Captain Miller. +She was too well acquainted with his voice. A voice she had hoped never +to hear again. + +Spencer, considerably shaken by the force Miller had used in thrusting +him back against the side of the car, muttered a string of curses, which +ended abruptly as Miller's elbow came in sharp contact with his ribs. + +Too bewildered for speech, Kathleen rested her head against the +upholstered back of the limousine. Neither of the men seemed inclined to +break the silence as the car sped swiftly toward Washington, and +gradually Kathleen's reasoning power returned to her. She was furiously +angry with herself, with the world, with Fate. Ah, she _would_ be +mistress of her own fate. Kathleen compressed her lips in mute +determination. Captain Miller must be made to understand that she would +not tolerate his further acquaintance. How dared he thrust his presence +upon her? Kathleen's hot anger cooled for a second; if Miller had not +thrust himself into the limousine she would in all probability have +either had to order Henry forcibly to eject Spencer, which might have +given rise to unpleasant gossip, or have endured alone the intoxicated +man's society for the five-mile drive into town. + +High-power arc lights were strung along the roadway, and under their +white glare Kathleen stole a glance at Miller. Handsome still, she +admitted to herself, and the same broad-shouldered, athletic figure. He +was the type of man which appeals to both men and women. She caught her +breath sharply as bitter memories crowded upon her, and slipping down her +hand, drew her skirts surreptitiously away from touching Miller. If he +noted the movement he gave no sign. + +As the lights of Washington appeared, the chauffeur reduced the +limousine's speed to that required by law. They were in the heart of the +resident section when a snore from Spencer explained his long silence. +The warmth and motion of the limousine, combined with his overindulgence +in wine, had lulled him to sleep. With an effort Kathleen roused herself +from her dismal reflections. + +"Can I leave you anywhere, Captain--Miller?" she inquired frigidly. + +"No thanks, I will walk to my hotel after I have seen you safely home." + +Kathleen fumbled with the clasp of her evening wrap and stared down the +empty streets. She waited until they were approaching Lafayette Square, +then broke her silence for the second time. + +"I desire that you leave me here," she stated calmly. "I am now within a +few blocks of my home." Without waiting for comment she leaned forward, +tapped upon the front window, and signaled Henry to stop. + +Miller rose as the limousine drew up to the curb. "As you wish," he said +courteously. "But I do not think this man a suitable companion for you," +and collaring Spencer, he opened the door and, thrusting the still +sleeping man out on the pavement, sprang out after him. + +Henry's eyes bulged as he saw the two men, but Miller's manner stopped +the ejaculation upon his lips. + +"Take Miss Whitney home," directed Miller, and lifting his hat to +Kathleen he watched the limousine turn a corner and disappear. Then he +glanced down at Spencer sprawling on the pavement. A queer smile lighted +his face as he stared at the lawyer. + +"What's your little game, Spencer?" he asked softly, and a hearty kick +punctuated the question. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +AT THE CAPITOL + + +Mrs. Whitney's usually placid disposition was decidedly ruffled, and she +took no pains to conceal her displeasure. + +"Really, Kathleen, you are greatly at fault," she said, as the girl +joined her in the vestibule. "The idea of keeping Henry at the Club until +after midnight! No wonder he is late now. No chauffeur can work both day +and night." + +"I'm sorry, mother," but Kathleen did not look particularly penitent; she +considered that the faithful Henry had a soft berth. That he worked +occasionally would not prove harmful. She had hoped to avoid going to the +Capitol that morning, and when told that Henry had not appeared either at +the house for orders or at the garage, she had supposed the trip would be +given up. But Mrs. Whitney was of the persevering kind, and with her to +plan was to accomplish. Decidedly upset by Henry's non-appearance in her +well conducted household, she had ordered the garage to fill his place +temporarily, and her limousine was at last at the door. + +Mrs. Whitney was giving her final direction to the new chauffeur as to +which she considered the best and safest route to the Capitol and the +speed she wished maintained, when her husband joined them. + +"I've decided to take a morning off and go with you," he announced, +entering the limousine. "Room for me on the back seat?" + +"Surely," and his wife patted the wide cushion. "We do not possess a +superabundance of flesh in this family." + +"Except Dad," interpolated Kathleen mischievously. She knew her father +disliked the idea of getting fat, while lacking the initiative of keeping +thin. "What you need, Dad, is a cold plunge and a ten-mile walk before +breakfast." + +Whitney shuddered. "Nice comfortable ideas you have, Kathleen, for a +winter day. It strikes me you should take a dose of your own medicine." +Inspecting her keenly. "Late hours do not improve your appearance, +young lady." + +"Thanks," but her usually sunny smile was strained. "And I suppose you +still work all night, Dad, disobeying Dr. McLane's orders." + +"I don't take orders from McLane," shortly. "And I didn't work very late +last night. Your mother came up and tried some of her Sisters in Unity +persuasion upon me, and I capitulated." + +Mrs. Whitney did not take the jest in good part. While she reveled in +society, she was essentially a clubwoman, and nothing delighted her so +much as debating and delivering addresses. She was a capital +extemporaneous speaker, and had held prominent offices in different +clubs. Possessing no sense of humor, which her husband and Kathleen had +in abundance, she seriously objected to their poking fun at her beloved +organization, the Sisters in Unity, of which she was a charter member. +Any allusion to it in fun she considered an offense in good taste. +Therefore withdrawing into dignified silence she permitted Whitney and +Kathleen to keep up the conversation. In fact, Whitney did most of the +talking, and neither he nor his wife perceived Kathleen's inattention. + +"I'm on the high road to solving the last problem," he exulted. "The +invention is simple, so very simple, but, Minna, it will revolutionize +many things in warfare. You won't be ashamed of your old Dad, Kathleen, +when the world acknowledges what I've done." + +"I'm proud of you now, and always have been," affirmed Kathleen, and +leaning over she placed a spray of lilies-of-the-valley from her bouquet +in his buttonhole. + +"Who sent you the flowers, Kathleen?" inquired Mrs. Whitney. + +"I don't know; I could find no card or note with them." + +"Perhaps Sinclair Spencer has decided to send them anonymously." With a +look of repugnance, Kathleen pulled the flowers off and before her father +could interfere, opened the door and tossed the bouquet into the street. +"Good gracious, Kathleen, don't take everything that I say literally!" +exclaimed Mrs. Whitney. "I am sorry I suggested...." + +"I am not, mother. After last night, nothing would induce me to wear +his flowers again," declared Kathleen with spirit. "Father, what made +you tele--" + +"Here we are," broke in Whitney, apparently not hearing Kathleen's +remark, as the limousine drew up at the entrance to the Senate side of +the Capitol. "Jump out, Kathleen. Careful, Minna." But without assistance +Mrs. Whitney sprang lightly to the ground, a worried look on her face. + +"I do believe, Winslow," she said, "that I have left my admission card to +the private gallery at home. It isn't in my bag." + +"Don't mind, I'll look up Randall Foster; he'll see we get in. Come +this way." + +They found the corridors of the huge building filled with hurrying men +and women, and Whitney spent fully twenty minutes before he succeeded in +obtaining the coveted card to the private gallery from his friend, +Senator Foster. To Mrs. Whitney's dismay they found the gallery filled; +but fortune favored them, for just after their entrance three women +seated in the front row rose and made their way out. With a quickness +which showed her familiarity with conventions Mrs. Whitney pounced upon +the seats, and sank into hers with a sigh of thankfulness. She had +overcome a number of obstacles that morning to get there, and though it +was a small matter she hated to be thwarted in anything she undertook. + +Kathleen, like many another Washingtonian, confined her visits to the +Capitol to sightseeing trips with out-of-town friends, and she had come +there that morning only because she could think of no good reason for +staying away. To her inward surprise she soon found her attention +absorbed by the debate going on in the Senate, and when one of the +distinguished lawmakers commenced a characteristic speech she became +unconscious of the flight of time. As the Senator ended his fiery +peroration, she raised her head and, glancing toward the Diplomats' +Gallery, recognized Captain Charles Miller sitting in the front row +regarding her. + +"Have you seen Medusa's head?" asked Whitney, tugging at her elbow. "Wake +up, Kathleen, unless you've been turned into marble. Your mother's told +you three times that Senator Foster has invited us to lunch with him. She +is waiting for us in the corridor. Come along." + +As they joined Mrs. Whitney, a young man hurried up to them. "I am +Senator Foster's secretary," he explained. "The Senator has gone direct +to the dining-room on the ground floor. This way, please," and he piloted +them to an elevator. On reaching the private dining-room of the Senate +they found not only Foster but Miss Kiametia Grey awaiting them. + +"This is my lucky day," exclaimed Foster, heartily. "First, you tell me +your wife and Miss Kathleen are here, Whitney; then I meet Kiametia on +the way to the gallery." Mrs. Whitney smiled covertly. The Senator's +courtship of the wealthy spinster was one of the most discussed topics in +smart society. "Couldn't resist the temptation to have you all lunch with +me," added Foster. "Won't you sit here, Mrs. Whitney," pulling out a +chair on his right, "and Kiametia," indicating the chair on his left, +"and Whitney next to you. Miss Kathleen, it's not etiquette to place +father and daughter together, but I have a stranger for your other hand. +Ah, here he comes...." + +Kathleen's back was to the entrance of the dining-room, but a sixth sense +warned her who the newcomer was, and her face was expressionless when +Foster introduced his friend, Captain Miller, to Mrs. Whitney and her +husband. After greeting Miss Kiametia, Miller stepped to Kathleen's side. + +"Good morning," he said quietly, and held out his hand. Kathleen drew +back, then good breeding mastered her indignation. A second later her +hand was laid in his and instantly withdrawn, but her fingers tingled +from his strong clasp. + +"Jolly party you must have had last night, Kiametia." Foster's cheery +voice enabled Kathleen to control her somewhat shaken nerves. "Telephoned +Sinclair Spencer to stop and see me this morning, but his servant said he +never showed up until noon today." + +"Kathleen pleaded guilty to a sleepless night," volunteered Mrs. Whitney, +to the girl's secret indignation. + +"It was the lobster," answered Miss Kiametia. "I tried to warn you not +to eat it, Kathleen." + +"Well, your lobster won't account for the non-appearance of Henry," +mourned Mrs. Whitney, her mind harking back to her own grievance. "How +d'ye do, Mrs. Sunderland," as an elaborately gowned woman swept by their +table, barely returning their greeting. + +"It is the regret of my life," announced Miss Kiametia, her eyes +twinkling, "that I never kept a photograph of Mrs. Sunderland taken when +she first came to Washington ten years ago. It would provide a study in +expression and expansion in social snobbery." + +Mrs. Whitney, conscious that she was perhaps rude by her silence, turned +to Captain Miller who had taken no part in the conversation. + +"Is this your first visit to Washington, Captain?" she inquired. + +"Yes, and I find its residents so delightful that I hope to +prolong my stay." + +"What did you think of the speech today?" broke in Foster. + +"Capital! The Senator is right; if this government ship purchase bill +goes through, the country will indeed be buying a quarrel." + +"Quite right," agreed Whitney, laying down his fork. "The only people +who fail to see it in that light are those advocating the bill's passage. +Every nation thinks the same." + +"Except possibly Germany," argued Foster. "She would probably try and +sell us the hundreds of interned ships in our seaports." + +"Well, why shouldn't she?" Miss Kiametia, with recollections of her +misgivings the night before, declined the lobster croquettes. "With the +German steamships and freighters interned here we should have a merchant +marine ready to our hand." + +"And thereby provide instant use for our navy," retorted Whitney. + +"Uncle Sam had better think twice before taking issue with the German +submarines," grumbled Miss Kiametia. + +Whitney's eyes lit with an angry sparkle, and he opened his mouth to +speak, but his wife gave him no opportunity. + +"Are you pro-German, Kiametia?" she asked in astonishment. + +"Well, I lean that way," admitted the spinster. "You know I'm named for +the sister of Pocahontas, and my drop of Indian blood gives me a good +memory. It strikes me that this nation is overlooking the American +Revolution, not to mention 1812, and I also recollect that England did +not show us particular friendship during the Civil War." + +"The idea of waving the bloody shirt of '76!" exclaimed Kathleen. "For +shame, Miss Kiametia! We Anglo-Saxons must stand together. And another +thing: Germany may have wiped the Belgians off the map, but she's lodged +them in every American heart." + +"And we'll wake up some day and find the Germans sitting in Canada," +retorted Miss Kiametia. "Looking at U. S." + +"'Over the garden wall,'" quoted Whitney laughing. "No, no, Kiametia. +Wave the bloody shirt, but don't try to scare us with a straw man." + +"Straw or not, the Kaiser is the world's bogy man. He has taught us a +lesson in preparedness which this country will be slow to imitate." + +"Uncle Sam is a good disciplinarian but a poor student," acknowledged +Whitney, fingering the table ornaments nervously. "Well, Foster, I've +enjoyed myself immensely, but there's work awaiting me at home, and I +really must run along." + +Mrs. Whitney, talking placidly with Captain Miller, looked considerably +taken aback by her husband's precipitancy. Hastily draining the last drop +of her demi-tasse, she added her thanks and good-byes, and followed her +husband and Kathleen from the room. + +"I'll walk home," announced Kathleen, as Whitney signaled to their +chauffeur. "It will do me good, I need a constitutional." + +"But--but it's over a mile," protested Mrs. Whitney. + +"All the better," and waving her muff in farewell, Kathleen hastened off +through the grounds in the direction of Pennsylvania Avenue. She found +the cold invigorating air a bracing tonic after the steam-heated +atmosphere of the Capitol, and was thoroughly enjoying her walk when she +became conscious that a figure was keeping pace with her. Looking up, she +recognized Captain Miller. Kathleen stopped. + +"Which way are you going?" she demanded, totally unconscious of the +pretty tableau she made, her dark beauty enhanced by a becoming hat and +silver fox furs. Not anticipating her abrupt halt, Miller was forced to +retrace his footsteps. + +"I spoke to you twice, Miss Whitney, but you apparently did not hear me," +he answered, lifting his hat. "I asked if I might accompany you, and took +silence for consent. My way lies your way." + +Kathleen's fingers clenched tightly together inside her muff. "Are you +dead to all sense of decency?" she asked. "Can you not see that your +presence is an offense?" + +Miller's color rose, and there was an ominous flash in his blue-gray +eyes, but she met his look undauntedly. "I think you take an exaggerated +view of the matter," he said quietly. "I desire your friendship." + +"You dare ask that after...." + +With a quiet masterful gesture Miller stopped her. "We are living in the +present," he said. "I repent the past. Come"--with deepening earnestness, +"you are warm-hearted, impulsive, generous--be generous to me--give me a +chance to make good. Before God, I will not fail you." + +Kathleen scanned him keenly. Could she place faith in his sincerity? +As she met the penetrating glance she knew of old, now softened by the +fascination of his winning smile, she came again under the old +personal charm. + +"I cannot be friends with a man whom I do not respect," she stammered. + +"But you shall respect me," with dogged determination, "and then...." + +A bevy of girls, coming out of Galt's, paused to greet Kathleen, and +Miller, not waiting to complete his sentence, bowed to her and continued +up the Avenue. He paid no attention to the streets he traversed, but on +turning into F Street sought shelter near a shop to light his cigarette. +As he threw the burnt match to the pavement he was attracted by a large +photograph of Kathleen Whitney in the window. It was an excellent +likeness, and Miller, studying the clear-cut features, the lovely eyes, +and soft rippling hair, felt his heart throb. He glanced at the sign +above the window and found he was standing before Edmonston's +Photographic Studio. On impulse he entered the building. + +Miller's absorption in Kathleen's photograph had not gone unnoticed, and +when he emerged from the studio, the observer accosted him. + +"Beg pardon, sir, I'm Henry, Mr. Whitney's chauffeur," he said. "Mr. +Spencer, sir, was much put out to wake up this morning, sir, and find +himself in a strange hotel." + +"Better that than being registered 'drunk and disorderly,'" smiled +Miller. + +"Yes, Captain Miller. I told him, sir, that you had done him a service." + +"Ah, indeed? May I ask how you know who I am?" + +"I made out you'd have trouble with Mr. Spencer, sir, and as soon as I'd +left Miss Kathleen at home, sir, I ran the car back down by the park, +sir, just in time to see you leading Mr. Spencer into the hotel. The +doorman there gave me your name, sir." + +"I see," replied Miller thoughtfully. "I lunched with Mr. Whitney today, +and it was mentioned that you had not shown up," and his eyes were guilty +of a peculiar glint as he scrutinized the intelligent face and finely +proportioned figure of the chauffeur. + +Henry reddened. "I wasn't feeling very well in the night, sir, and +overslept," he explained. "Eh, Captain," as Miller turned away. "I saw +you looking, sir, at Miss Kathleen's picture. Did you get a copy in +Edmonston's?" + +"No," curtly. + +"I thought not, sir. They never part with their photographs in there, +sir. But there's an extra one in Mr. Whitney's library, sir, which I +could ... could...." he stopped abruptly as he met Miller's gaze. + +After a pause Miller slipped his hand into his pocket and on pulling it +out disclosed a gold coin lying in his bare palm. "I see you are +amenable to reason, Henry," he said serenely, and the chauffeur +stammered his thanks. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +PHANTOM WIRES + + +Sinclair Spencer walked up and down the Whitney drawing-room examining +the costly bric-a-brac, totally blind to the merits of each piece and in +several instances replacing them with entire disregard as to whether they +rested on the edge, or on firm foundation. His occupation was interrupted +by the return of Vincent, the butler. + +"Miss Kathleen is not at home, sir," he announced. + +"Quite certain, Vincent?" holding out a treasury bill with a +persuasive gesture. + +"Quite, sir." Vincent looked offended, but slipped the large tip in his +pocket with inward satisfaction. He saw Spencer's crestfallen appearance +and thawed. "Julie, the maid, says Miss Kathleen hasn't returned from the +Red Cross meeting, sir, but that she's liable to come in 'most any time." + +"Well, perhaps--is Mr. Whitney at home?" + +"Yes, sir; but I dassent interrupt him, sir. He's working in his studio." + +"Then I'll wait here for a time, at least. Don't wait, Vincent" + +"Very good, sir." But Vincent paused irresolutely. His conscience was +reproaching him. Miss Kathleen's orders had been very explicit; if Mr. +Spencer called to see her father, well and good; if he came to see _her_, +he was not to be admitted. + +For six weeks the seesaw had kept up, and Vincent had grown weary of +answering the door for Spencer. He had been an almost daily caller, +occasionally admitted when Winslow Whitney was downstairs, and always a +visitor on Mrs. Winslow's weekly day at home. But these latter visits had +profited him nothing. Kathleen never gave him an opportunity to see her +alone, and it was the same at dinners and dances to which they were both +invited. Spencer had come there that morning fully determined to see +Kathleen and, as he expressed it to himself, "have an understanding with +her." Having for once gotten by Vincent's relaxed guard, wild horses +would not have dragged him away. + +Vincent's harassed expression altered to one of relief as he heard the +front doorbell sound, but his feelings underwent a change when he saw +Kathleen standing in the vestibule instead of Mrs. Whitney, who had +announced that she would return early as she was walking and not using +the limousine. + +"Any mail for me in the noon delivery?" asked Kathleen, and her smile +faded at the butler's negative reply. Why did her letters to England +remain unanswered? John Hargraves was the promptest of correspondents, +and the question she had asked him required an answer. Preoccupied with +her own thoughts, she was about to enter the elevator totally oblivious +to Vincent's agitated manner. As she placed her hand on the elevator +door, Sinclair Spencer walked into the hall. + +"How are you?" he said, his off-hand salutation concealing much +tribulation of spirit. Vincent caught one glimpse of Kathleen's face and +discreetly vanished. + +"Do you wish to see my father, Mr. Spencer?" asked Kathleen, utterly +ignoring his outstretched hand. + +"No. I came expressly to see you," and his air of dogged determination +was not to be mistaken. Kathleen came to a sudden decision. + +"Suppose we go into the drawing-room," she suggested. "I can spare you a +few minutes." But once in the room she did not sit down. "Why do you wish +to see me, Mr. Spencer?" + +"To ask you to marry me." Sinclair's usually florid face was white, and +his customary self-assurance had departed. + +"I thank you for the compliment," with icy politeness, "but I must +decline your proposal." + +"You--you refuse?" Spencer spoke as in a dream. + +"Yes. Surely, Mr. Spencer, you cannot have expected any other +answer--cannot have deluded yourself into thinking that I could possibly +accept you? I have tried in every means within my power to discourage +your attentions." + +"But why?" Spencer's air castles were tumbling about his ears, but he +stuck to his guns. His affection for Kathleen, fanned by her +indifference, had become all-absorbing. Courted and flattered by mothers +with marriageable daughters, he had come to believe that he had but to +speak to win Kathleen. + +"Why discuss the matter further?" asked Kathleen. She heartily wished the +scene over; it had not been of her seeking. To wantonly hurt another's +feelings was alien to her nature, and that Spencer was suffering his +demeanor betrayed. + +"I must." Spencer came a step nearer. "Tell me why you refuse me." + +"Your habits ..." + +"I haven't touched a drop of wine since that dinner at Chevy Chase," +triumphantly. "And if you don't approve, I'll not take another drink as +long as I live." + +"I certainly think it would be better for you to stick to that +resolution." Kathleen moved toward the hall door. "I really do not see +any object in prolonging this discussion." + +"But I do," following her. "I have perhaps startled you by my abrupt +manner. I do love you, Kathleen"--his voice shook--"love you better than +anybody. I know that I can make you care for me. I have money ..." + +"That makes no difference." + +"With you, perhaps not," but Spencer looked dubious. "I swear never to +touch wine again. I will gratify your every wish"--Kathleen shook her +head, and he added heatedly, "What is there about me you don't like?" + +"I--I cannot tell--" Kathleen edged toward the door. "It's a case of +'Dr. Fell.'" + +"Fell?" Spencer turned red, his self-esteem pricked at last. "Is that +another name for Captain Miller?" with insolent significance. + +Kathleen stepped back as if struck. "I think it time to end this +conversation," she said, but her remark received no attention. + +"I see it all now," muttered Spencer. "Captain Miller has won your +affection." + +"He has not." The contradiction slipped from Kathleen with more vehemence +than she intended. Spencer brightened. In endeavoring to convince +herself, she had thoroughly convinced him. + +"You are not engaged to him?" he asked eagerly. + +"Certainly not." Kathleen crimsoned with indignation. How dared Sinclair +Spencer catechise her! "I must insist that you leave. And, Mr. Spencer, +please remember, I desire that you never again allude to your proposal of +marriage." + +"But I shall," doggedly. + +"Then our acquaintance will cease." Her manner even more than her words +roused Spencer to sudden wrath. + +"No, it won't," he retorted. "And I will make you--understand--make you +reconsider your refusal to marry me. Good morning," and without a +backward look he departed. + +Kathleen drew a long breath of relief as the front door closed behind +him. "Thank God, he's gone," she said aloud, unconscious that her words +were overheard. "He is insufferable. I cannot understand why father ever +encouraged him to come to the house." + +Rapid walking soon brought Spencer to the corner of Seventeenth and H +Streets, and hailing a taxicab he gave the chauffeur an address on +Nineteenth Street. Fifteen minutes later he was ushered into the presence +of Baron Frederic von Fincke. + +"And how is the excellent Mr. Spencer this morning?" asked von Fincke +genially, offering his guest a chair. + +Spencer, however, remained standing and disregarded the question as well +as the chair. + +"Who is this fellow, Charles Miller?" he asked in his turn. + +Von Fincke laughed softly. "Consult your 'Who's Who,' my dear friend; do +not come to me, an outsider." + +"You know why I come to you," with pointed accentuation. "I am determined +to find out Miller's antecedents, and I am convinced you can tell me if +you will." + +Von Fincke shook his head. "You overrate my powers," he insisted suavely. +"I have met Captain Miller as one meets any visitor to this cosmopolitan +city. My acquaintance extends no further than our meeting at Miss Grey's +dinner at the Chevy Chase Club six weeks ago." + +Spencer paused in indecision; for the moment, the foreigner's candid +manner disarmed his doubts. "Quite sure you can't find out about Miller?" +he persisted. + +"I can but question my few friends in Washington; their information of +Captain Miller may be of the vaguest. Why do you not apply to Senator +Randall Foster? He and the Captain are what you call--inseparable." + +"So they are, but I'm not going to Foster for anything." + +"No?" + +"_No!_" The repetition was almost a roar. Spencer's temper, always +uncertain, had been severely tried that morning, and was rapidly giving +way under the strain of bitter disappointment. "I ran up against Foster +in those Senate lobby charges, and of all the cantankerous--" He paused +expressively, then added, "I used to have a high regard for his sagacity +and business judgment until he lost his head over that Grey woman. +Because she don't choose to be decently civil, he's turned surly. You +wait! I'll bring them to time, and Kathleen Whitney also." + +"Ah!" + +"You may 'Ah!' all you wish, but I am going to marry that girl, in spite +of her refusal." + +"And how is that to be accomplished if you have not the young +lady's consent?" + +Spencer thrust his hands deep into his pockets and faced von Fincke +resolutely. "She idolizes her father; his word is law to her." + +"And you have his consent to the match?" + +"Not yet, but I mean to get it; if necessary, by moral suasion." + +"Gently, my dear Spencer, gently." Von Fincke held up a warning hand. +"Whitney must not be annoyed." + +"Indeed?" Spencer eyed his companion suspiciously. "And why not?" + +"His invention...." + +Spencer's laugh was not pleasant. "How do you know it isn't completed and +patent applied for?" + +"Is that so?" Von Fincke walked over to his desk and seated himself. +"Suppose we sit and talk...." + +"No," defiantly. "The time for talking has gone by. You know, I'll bet my +last cent that Whitney has patents pending in the United States Patent +Office for his invention. All this waiting for him to finish his work is +poppy-cock. Why are you protecting Whitney, unless he's your tool?" + +Von Fincke laughed. "You have strange ideas. Do sit and let us change +the topic of conversation." + +"I won't." Spencer strode to the door. "I've done with your dirty +work...." + +"Tut! tut!" Von Fincke, who had been leaning back in his revolving chair, +straightened up. "Your language, my dear friend, can be improved ..." + +"And so can my knowledge," significantly. "I'm going to investigate +Whitney's affairs and his house before I'm much older. Don't bother to +ring for a servant," he added, seeing his host's hand hovering over the +electric desk bell, and not waiting for an answer, bolted from the room. + +Von Fincke's hand descended on the electric bell button with imperative +force, and rising he hastened into the hall. He paused at sight of his +breathless valet ushering Spencer down the staircase. Not until he was +thoroughly convinced that Spencer had left the house did he turn back +from the head of the stairs. + +"He grows troublesome, that Spencer," he mused as he made his way to his +own suite of rooms. + +An hour later Captain Charles Miller turned in at the main entrance of +his hotel and went directly to his room on the eighth floor. Humming +softly to himself he hung up his overcoat and hat in the closet, and +removing his coat placed that also on a hanger. Back once more in his +bedroom, he carefully arranged the heavy draperies over his window so +that his movements were completely screened, and taking a black silk +muffler fastened it securely over the knob of the hall door. The window +and door of his private bathroom were likewise draped. Finally satisfied +that he was secure from observation and all sound deadened, Miller took +from his overcoat pocket four porcelain castors, and dropping on his +knees by the side of his brass bed, he deftly inserted them in place of +the bed's regular steel castors. + +Pausing long enough to clear the toilet articles from his bureau, he +lifted from a box-shaped leather bag marked "Underwood" a Massie +Rosonophone and deftly installed it on the bureau top. Taking a slight +copper wire he attached it to one of the posts of the bed and connected +it with the apparatus, making sure that the wire was suspended clear of +the ground and surrounding objects. With another suspended wire he +grounded the apparatus on the radiator. + +At last convinced that all was adjusted properly, Miller moved over to +his desk and gazed intently at a large photograph of Kathleen Whitney. It +was an occupation of which he never tired. The faint buzz of the alarm +bell sent him back to the wireless apparatus, and slipping on his +headpiece telephone he picked up his pencil. Listening intently to the +dots and dashes, Miller took down the message passing through space. + +As he jotted down the last letter and the wireless apparatus ceased to +receive, Miller regarded the written coded message before him on his +writing pad with deep satisfaction. He was at last in tune with the +transmitting station. The code only remained to be solved. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +KAISER BLUMEN + + +Miss Kiametia Grey was having her last Tuesday at home before Holy Week, +and the drawing-room of her apartment was hardly large enough to hold all +her callers comfortably. She was assisted in receiving by several of her +friends, and Kathleen Whitney presided over the tea-table. + +Kathleen, chatting gayly with first one visitor and then another, was +unaware that with the passing of time her eyes strayed more and more +frequently to the hall doorway, nor was she conscious that they gained an +added brightness on perceiving Captain Charles Miller enter the room. + +Owing to the departure of other guests Miss Kiametia contented herself +with shaking Miller's hand warmly. "Come and talk to me later," she +called, and turned her attention to those waiting to say good-bye. But +she was not so absorbed as not to note Miller's progress down the +room. From the corner of her eye she saw him stop and speak to +Kathleen, accept a cup of tea, and walk over and seat himself on the +sofa by Mrs. Whitney. That Mrs. Whitney was pleased by the attention +was plain to be seen. + +"Hum!" chuckled the astute spinster to herself. "'Always kiss the blossom +when making love to the bud'--Captain Miller is nobody's fool." + +"Stop looking at Miller," admonished Senator Foster, standing by her +elbow. "Pay attention to me." + +"I will, if you will inform me who Miller is," she retorted. + +Foster looked at her oddly. "The Pied Piper, judging from the way you +women run after him," he grumbled. "Can't a good-looking man come to +Washington without being swamped with invitations?" + +"Sour grapes!" Miss Kiametia's kind smile took the sting from her words, +and Foster, whose looks were his sensitive point, laughed. "You haven't +answered my question." + +"He brought me letters from the president of a big munitions factory in +Pennsylvania," he answered readily. "I gather--mind you I know nothing +positively and must not be quoted...." + +"Quite so. Well, I'm no parrot." The spinster nodded her head +vigorously. "You're safe; go on." + +Again Foster hesitated. He knew Miss Kiametia dearly loved a morsel of +gossip, but he also knew that she could be trusted not to divulge matters +of real importance. He, as well as the other members of the set in which +the Whitneys and Miss Grey belonged, had observed Captain Miller's +attention to Kathleen, had noted the gradual thawing of her stiff manner +to him as the weeks went on, and he believed that Miss Kiametia's +questions were prompted by the affection she bore Kathleen. He also was +aware that the spinster cordially detested Sinclair Spencer and was +secretly elated at Kathleen's indifference to the lawyer's attentions. + +"I imagine Miller is here in the interests of the Allies," he said, +lowering his voice. "I know that he has entered into negotiations for the +purchase of war munitions, and that he is hoping to put through a deal +for certain cavalry horses. I am so positive that he is what he +represents himself to be that I have given him letters to influential men +in my State." + +"That possibly explains his many abrupt absences from the city," +commented Miss Kiametia sagely. "He has the habit of backing out of +dinner engagements at the eleventh hour. But tell me, do you know +nothing about the man's family--his character?" + +"Not a word. His letter of introduction was good, his business references +excellent, and so"--the Senator's gesture was expressive. "I had no idea +he would prove such a Beau Brummel when I introduced him to my Washington +friends." Foster turned and looked across the room at Miller. "I should +judge that he has seen service, his carriage is military." + +"He appears to be an American, but he has certain mannerisms"--Miss +Kiametia paused and, not completing her sentence, turned her attention +to other guests. After their departure she beckoned Foster to join her +by the door. + +"Captain Miller piques my curiosity," she whispered. "You say you +know nothing about his family--I am going to find out about his +character _now_." + +"How?" Foster looked mystified. "Where are you going?" as she moved +forward. "Remember, what I told you was confidential." + +"Trust me," and with a most undignified wink, Miss Kiametia sailed down +upon Mrs. Whitney and Captain Miller. "You can't escape me," she said to +the latter, as he rose on her approach. "You must come and be +victimized." + +"In what way?" + +"By my latest fad--palmistry. Come, Minna, well go into the library," +and laying a determined hand on Miller's arm she led the way into the +cozy room, followed by Mrs. Whitney and the highly amused Senator. +Miss Kiametia was a good organizer, and she marshalled her three +guests into seats by the library table, placing Miller between herself +and Mrs. Whitney. + +"Is this a séance?" inquired Kathleen, watching the group from the +doorway. Another of Miss Kiametia's receiving party had taken her place +at the tea-table. + +"Come and lend Captain Miller your moral support," called Miss Kiametia, +while his character is being divulged. "No, you are to sit still," as +Miller made a motion to rise. "Kathleen can stand behind us and prompt me +if my deductions go astray; she knows you better than the rest of us." + +Kathleen advanced with lagging steps into the room. She had turned +singularly pale, and Miss Kiametia, watching her closely, wondered if +she was taking the game seriously. She stopped just back of Miller's +chair and rested her hand lightly on Miss Kiametia's shoulder as the +latter pulled the electric lamp nearer so that its rays fell full upon +Miller's palm. + +"Has the size of the hand anything to do with the subject?" asked Miller, +as the spinster picked up a magnifying glass. + +"Don't make suggestions to the oracle," laughed Foster. "Go ahead, +Kiametia." + +"Your life line is good," pronounced the spinster, "but as it divides +toward the end you will probably die in a country different from that of +your birth." + +"Any particular time scheduled for the event?" questioned Miller, +skeptically, but Miss Kiametia ignored the remark. + +"This branch from the head line to the heart"--indicating it with a +slender paper-cutter--"denotes some great affection which makes you blind +to reason and danger." She paused irresolutely. "Pshaw! I'm reading from +the left hand, let me see the other...." + +"Isn't the one nearest the heart the surest guide?" inquired Miller. + +"It is not," with decision, and Miller, smiling whimsically, extended his +hand toward them. + +"The right hand of fellowship," he remarked, placing his palm directly +under the light. + +"My theory is correct." Miss Kiametia shot a triumphant look at Mrs. +Whitney. "There are always more lines in the right palm than in the left; +and see, here is a wider space between the lines of the head and +life--contact with the world, Captain Miller, has taught you +self-reliance, promptness of action, and readiness of thought. Hello, +what is that on your index finger--a half-moon?" + +"Yes." Miller smiled covertly; the spinster's seriousness amused him +immensely. "Isn't that according to Hoyle?" + +"No, nor according to Cheiro, either," tartly. "Hold your palm steady so +that I can see more clearly. It's a scar, isn't it?" + +"Yes." + +Mrs. Whitney and Senator Foster were closely following Miss +Kiametia's words, and neither saw the perplexed frown which wrinkled +Kathleen's forehead as she stared down at Miller's right hand. She +was distinctly puzzled. + +"The strength of your own individuality will carry you over many +obstacles," finished Miss Kiametia, giving Miller's hand a friendly tap +with the paper-cutter. + +"Read mine next," and Foster held out his right hand. + +"Haven't time; besides," the spinster's eyes twinkled, "I know your +character like a book. What is it, Sylvester?" as her colored butler +appeared, card tray in hand. "More visitors? Oh, yes, the Peytons--I +particularly want you to know them, Minna; no, you must not think of +leaving yet," and with her accustomed energy Miss Kiametia whisked Mrs. +Whitney into the drawing-room, Senator Foster following. As Kathleen +stepped toward the door, Miller stopped her. + +"Don't go," he pleaded, his voice, though low, vibrating with pent-up +feeling. "Kathleen, my beloved, don't go." + +She placed an unsteady hand on the portiere. "I must," she stammered. +"They need me...." + +"No, I am the one who needs you. My last chance of happiness lies in the +balance. Kathleen, give me a hearing." + +Slowly, reluctantly she turned in his direction. "Be wise, leave things +as they are...." + +"I cannot." Miller was white with the intensity of his emotion. "I love +you, love you." + +Kathleen's hand crept to her heart as if to still its wild throb. + +"Don't, don't"--she looked beseechingly at him. "Have you forgotten..." + +"Yes," boldly. "I only realize you are all in all to me." + +In the dead silence that followed the ticking of the small desk clock was +distinctly audible. + +"Why not leave well enough alone?" she begged, a trifle wildly. + +"Because I cannot stand it," huskily. "To see you day after day--Will +nothing I say convince or move you? Am I outside the pale of affection?" + +No answer. In the prolonged silence Miller's self-control snapped, and +stepping to her side he drew her in his arms. For a second she struggled +to release herself, then her strength gave way and she leaned limply +against him. + +"I am a fool, a fool to listen to you," she gasped, "but I--I--love you +now as I never did before." + +With a low cry of unutterable happiness Miller bent his head and their +lips met in a passionate kiss. + +The hall clock was chiming six when Mrs. Whitney and Kathleen reached +home. Not waiting for her mother, Kathleen ran upstairs and shut herself +in her own room. Without troubling to switch on the electric lights she +made her way to a chair by the window and flung herself into it. + +Love, the all-powerful, had conquered reason. Against her better judgment +she had pledged her faith to Charles Miller. Her heart throbbed high +with hope, and with dreamy, happy eyes she stared out of the window into +the darkness. Slowly she reviewed the events of the past six weeks. Never +intrusive, yet always by her side and at her beck and call, never at a +loss to do and say the right thing, Miller had wooed her in his own +masterful way, trampling down prejudice, suspicion, unbelief, until he +had gained his heritage--love. The specter of the past was +laid--involuntarily Kathleen shivered. + +"Is Mademoiselle here?" asked the French maid, peering in uncertainly +from the hall door. She had rapped repeatedly and getting no response +had gone downstairs to look for Kathleen, only to be told that she was +in her own room. + +"Come in, Julie, and turn on the electric switch," directed Kathleen, and +blinked as the room was suddenly flooded with light. Without rising she +removed her hat-pins and handed her hat and coat to the maid. "Just the +blue foulard tonight. What have you there?" + +"Some flowers, mademoiselle," handing the box to Kathleen. "Captain +Miller left them at the door himself, and seeing me in the hall asked +that I give them to you at once." With a Frenchwoman's tact she busied +herself in getting out the blue foulard and pretended not to see the +blush and smile which accompanied Kathleen's opening of the box. She did +not speak again, helping Kathleen with deft fingers to finish her toilet, +and then stood back to contemplate the effect. "Will mademoiselle attend +the meeting tonight?" she asked. + +"No, I am not a member of the Sisters in Unity. I had forgotten the club +was to meet here. Perhaps mother will need you now. Don't wait." + +But the Frenchwoman lingered. "Mademoiselle," she began. "Mademoiselle." + +"Yes, Julie." + +"_Pardon_". Turning abruptly, Julie opened the door and glanced up and +down the hall, then gently closed and locked it. With equal quietness she +bolted the sitting-room door. Watching her with growing curiosity +Kathleen saw that her comely face was white and drawn. + +"Listen, mademoiselle." The Frenchwoman was careful to keep her voice +low-pitched. "I dare to speak tonight--for France." + +"For France!" echoed Kathleen. + +"France." Julie's tone caressed the word. "My country needs your father's +invention--Ah, mademoiselle, do not let him sell it to another." + +"He will offer it first to our own Government." + +"Will he, mademoiselle? Ah, do not be offended," catching Kathleen's +swift change of expression. "I dare speak as I do--for France; think me +not disrespectful--but others wait to tempt your father." + +"Nonsense!" + +"I know what I know, mademoiselle. It has gotten abroad that Mr. Whitney +has completed his invention, that tests prove it successful--and, +mademoiselle, this house is watched." + +Kathleen looked at Julie incredulously. Had the maid taken leave of her +senses? Between nervousness and anxiety the Frenchwoman was trembling +from head to foot. + +"Warn your father, mademoiselle; he will listen to you." + +"I will," with reassuring vigor. "Tell me, Julie, what has aroused your +suspicion?" + +"Many things. When it creeps out that M. Whitney has succeeded, I say to +myself--the Germans, they will be interested. And I wait. Then madame +engages Henry...." + +"Henry? The chauffeur?" + +"But yes. I do not like Henry, mademoiselle. He is too much in the +house for a chauffeur; I meet him on the stairs, always on his way to +the attic with some message to M. Whitney who works in his studio +there. He laughs and teases me, that Henry, but wait!" Julie's eyes +were blazing. "And that Monsieur Spencer; I trust him not also. Ah, +mademoiselle, do not let him be closeted with your father--he is the +younger and stronger man." + +"Julie, are you quite mad?" exclaimed Kathleen, her eyes twice their +usual size. + +"No, mademoiselle. I watch; yes, always I watch and listen. Your father +did well to have iron shutters on the windows and new bolts on the door, +but he knows not that I am within call--on the other side of the door." + +"Upon my word!" Kathleen's brain was in a whirl. Was Julie's mind +unbalanced? She knew that the Frenchwoman's fiancé and two brothers had +been killed early in the war. Had grief for them and anxiety for her +beloved country developed hallucinations? One thing was apparent--it +would never do to disagree with her in her overwrought condition. +Kathleen laid her arm protectingly about her shoulders and gave her a +squeeze. She was very fond of the warm-hearted Frenchwoman. + +"Do not worry, Julie. I will see that father takes every precaution to +safeguard his invention." She hesitated. "I, too, sympathize deeply with +France." "God bless thee, mademoiselle." With a movement full of grace +Julie raised Kathleen's hand to her lips, then glided from the room, her +slippers making no noise on the thick carpet. + +Left alone Kathleen picked up her box of flowers and walked thoughtfully +into her sitting-room. Her interview with Julie had depressed her. As she +passed her desk she saw a note addressed to her lying on it, but +recognizing Sinclair Spencer's handwriting she tossed it down again +unopened. It would keep to read later. She walked over to the pier glass +and began to adjust the flowers which Miller had sent her. More +interested in his note which accompanied his gift, she had at first taken +them for violets, but looking more closely at the corsage bouquet she +found it contained cornflowers. Again she read his note: + +"MY DARLING: + +"I send you the harbinger of spring, of hope, of happiness. Ever fondly +your lover, + +"CHARLES." + +Back to Kathleen's memory came a vision of waving wheat in a field on the +outskirts of Berlin and scattered among the grain grew the +cornflower--_Kaiser blumen_. She raised her hand to her hot cheeks. How +came Miller to send her flowers which he knew were connected with that +past he so ardently wished forgotten? + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +THE SPIDER AND THE FLY + + +Whitney scanned the long drawing-room and library beyond in comic +despair. The furniture of both rooms, which opened out of each other, +had been carried into another part of the house, and in its place were +rows on rows of gilt chairs, while in the bow window stood an +improvised platform. + +"Can I get you a seat, sir?" asked Vincent, placing a pitcher of ice +water and tumblers on the speaker's table. + +"No, thanks; my days as parliamentarian are over, thank the Lord. I have +learned, Vincent, that when the Sisters in Unity hold an election it's +safer to be on the other side of the bolted door." + +"Yes, sir." Vincent removed a cherished Sevres vase from its customary +abiding place on the mantel and tucked it carefully under his arm. "Miss +Kathleen is looking for you, sir. I think I hear her in the hall now, +sir," and he hastened into the library as Kathleen stepped into the +drawing-room. + +"Where have you been since dinner, Dad? I went from the top of the house +to the bottom looking for you." + +"Had to go over to the drugstore to get a prescription filled. Can I do +anything for you?" + +"Yes. Come and spend the evening with me," she coaxed. + +Whitney laughed. "Can't, my dear. I have important work ahead of +me tonight." + +"It must wait until tomorrow," coaxingly, stroking his cheek softly. "I +don't like these lines, Dad. Your health is more to be considered than +your work." + +Whitney's air of tolerance turned to one of determination. "You are +wrong; my work is of primary importance. It's only a matter of hours now, +Kathleen; then I can loaf for the rest of my days." + +She shook her head. "Unless you take rest you cannot stand the strain. +Mother tells me you worked all last night and far into the morning." + +"My brain is clearer at night, and I have always required very little +sleep." He frowned with growing impatience. "There is no use discussing +the subject." He spoke in a tone which forbade further argument. + +"Dad," Kathleen lowered her voice and moved closer to him, "has it +occurred to you that--that people are unduly curious about your +invention?" + +Whitney eyed her keenly. "It has," he admitted tersely, "and I have taken +precautions." He stared at the clock and frowned impatiently. "Nearly +eight--the meeting will commence soon; let's get out of here." + +"Wait, Dad," Kathleen laid a restraining hand on his shoulder. "I cannot +bear to think of you alone in the attic--so far away from--" + +"Sisters in Unity--the very best of reasons for going to the attic--" + +"Let me come with you," eagerly. "I'll bring my own work and not say a +word to you. I'm nervous, Daddy, I--I don't want to be by myself +tonight--and there's something I want to--to--" her voice broke. + +Whitney glanced at Kathleen in surprise. What had come over her? + +"Oh, come along," he agreed roughly. "Only remember, I won't be tormented +with small talk." + +Kathleen's eyes brightened with relief as she accompanied him into the +hall. As they appeared the elevator door opened and Mrs. Whitney stepped +out into the hall. + +"Why, I thought you were lying down, Kathleen; you said that you were +too tired to come in later to our club meeting and hear Senator Foster's +address on 'Peace,'" she exclaimed, and not waiting for an answer, turned +to Whitney. "Can you spare me a moment, Winslow? I wish your advice," and +with a quick tilt of her head she indicated the small reception room on +the left of the front door. "Come in here." + +"Certainly, Minna. Don't wait for me, Kathleen," but the girl paused +irresolutely. + +"Shall I go to the studio?" she asked. + +"No, you cannot get in; the door is locked. Go to your sitting-room and +I'll stop for you on the way to the studio." + +"Honest Injun, Dad?" And her father, nodding vigorous assent, watched her +go up the stairs, then with a brisk step entered the reception room. + +"How charming you look, Minna!" he exclaimed, in honest admiration. + +"You think so?" and Mrs. Whitney dimpled with pleasure. "I do want to win +the election tonight--and clothes count for so much in woman's politics." + +"I back you to win against all comers," and Whitney gave her shapely +shoulder a loving pat as he stooped to kiss her. "What is the matter with +Kathleen tonight? Her behavior troubles me." + +His wife laughed softly. "She is suffering from an old complaint--she +is in love." + +"What!" Whitney stared at her in blank astonishment. "With whom?" and +sudden, sharp anxiety lay behind the abrupt question. + +"I suspect--Captain Miller." + +"Miller? That silent--" Whitney checked his impetuous words. "Miller? +Good Lord!" + +"What can you tell me about Captain Miller?" Her feminine curiosity was +instantly aroused at his quick change of expression. + +"Just what I have seen of him and nothing more. He never talks of +himself." + +"Such a relief," sighed Mrs. Whitney. "There is Randall Foster--talks +always of his own achievements. Wait until Kiametia Grey marries him. I +sometimes wonder...." + +"I can't see that we are directly concerned with that romance," broke in +Whitney with characteristic impatience. "What's your opinion of Miller?" + +"I rather like him; he's very agreeable, good-looking, and seems to have +plenty of money...." + +"Then you...." + +"Favor his suit? Yes," tranquilly. + +"But, heavens, Minna, you know nothing about Captain Miller's past." + +"You can inquire about it; in fact, I think it is your duty to do so. He +calls here entirely too frequently not to be asked his intentions." + +"What the--" Whitney reddened angrily and his voice rose. "A nice task +you put before me. I dis--" + +"Sh!" Rising hurriedly, Mrs. Whitney laid a warning hand on his +arm. "There's the bell, and this room is needed for the cloaks. +Where is Julie?" + +Paying no attention to her husband's apparent desire to say something +more, Mrs. Whitney stepped into the hall. Whitney stood in deep thought +for a brief moment, then hastened after her, but his hope to slip +upstairs unseen was frustrated. Miss Kiametia Grey, enveloped in a heavy +fur coat, promptly hailed him and as he stood chatting to her in the hall +the front door again opened and Henry, the chauffeur, who had been +requisitioned to assist Vincent, ushered in Sinclair Spencer. + +"Good evening, Mrs. Whitney," Spencer's loud cheery voice boomed through +the hall, and under cover of his jovial manner he scanned Whitney and his +wife. Had Kathleen spoken to them of his proposal of marriage that +morning and her refusal? "Just dropped in to see your husband, Mrs. +Whitney; hadn't hoped for the pleasure of seeing you. Hello, Whitney. +Evening, Miss Grey." But the spinster, with a stiff bow, slipped past the +lawyer and into the reception room without seeing his outstretched hand. +Spencer's florid complexion turned a deeper tint as he met Henry's blank +stare, but a covert glance at the Whitneys convinced him that they had +not seen Miss Kiametia's rudeness. + +"Do take Mr. Spencer upstairs, Winslow," suggested Mrs. Whitney, as the +chauffeur opened the door to admit more guests. "I have a meeting of my +club tonight, Mr. Spencer, and therefore..." + +"Certainly, certainly; please don't let my presence put you out," with a +courteous bow. "Come on, Whitney, let's go up to your studio," and he +followed his host into the elevator. + +Whitney stopped the car at the first bedroom floor. "We will be far +more comfortable in my wife's boudoir than in my studio," he said. "Go +ahead, Spencer, first door to your right. I'll stop in my bedroom and +get some cigars." + +Glancing curiously about the large attractive hall, Spencer entered the +daintily furnished boudoir, and was examining the many water colors and +photographs which hung on the walls, when Whitney came in carrying a +cigar box and a tray containing Scotch and vichy. + +"That's some of Kathleen's work," he explained, observing that the +lawyer had picked up a miniature of Mrs. Whitney. "She is clever with +her brush." + +"Very clever," agreed Spencer enthusiastically. "There is no one, +Whitney, whom I admire as I do your daughter," drawing a lounging +chair near the table on which his host put the tray. "Why does +Kathleen avoid me?" + +"Does she?" + +"She does," with bitter emphasis. "And it cuts--deep." + +"You are supersensitive," protested Whitney politely. "I do not for a +moment believe Kathleen would intentionally hurt your feelings." + +Spencer did not answer at once, and chafing inwardly at being kept from +his work in the studio, Whitney glared first at his guest and then at the +clock, but the hint was lost. + +Suddenly Spencer's right fist came down on the table with a resounding +whack. "Kathleen turned me down this morning." Whitney's eyes were +riveted on his guest but he said nothing, and Spencer continued +earnestly. "I want you to use your influence...." + +"No." The monosyllable was spoken quietly, but the gleam in Whitney's +eyes was a silent warning. "We will leave my daughter's name out of the +discussion. Was there anything else you wished to see me about? If +not...." and he half rose. + +Instead of answering Spencer lolled back in his chair and, taking his +time, lighted a cigar. + +"Your note for twenty thousand dollars is due in ten days," he announced. +"Are you prepared to take it up?" + +There was a protracted pause before Whitney spoke. "Are you willing +to let me curtail your note with a payment of five thousand +dollars?" he asked. + +"No." + +Whitney's hand closed spasmodically over the bottle of whiskey, and he +was livid with anger as he glared at the younger man. Spencer's good +looks were marred by signs of recent dissipation, and the coarse lines +about his thin lips destroyed the air of refinement given him by his +well-cut clothes. Whitney cast a despairing look about the room, at the +pretty knick-knacks, pictures, and handsome furniture--all indicated a +cultivated woman's taste. How his wife loved her belongings! + +With the curtailing of his income through the shrinking and non-payment +of dividends, he had drawn upon his principal and--keeping up +appearances was an expensive game. Every piece of property that he owned +was heavily mortgaged, and every bit of collateral was already deposited +to cover notes at his bank. Slowly Whitney's fingers loosened their grip +upon the bottle of whiskey. + +"Well," and his voice cut the stillness like a whiplash. "What is your +pound of flesh?" + +Spencer knocked the ash from the end of his cigar into the tray with care +that none should fall upon the polished mahogany table top. + +"Kathleen might reconsider--eh?" suggestively. "And--eh--there is your +invention--_your latest invention_." + +It was approaching midnight when Whitney stepped alone into the hall. The +hum of voices rose from the room below; evidently Vincent had neglected +to close the drawing-room doors, or else the Sisters in Unity needed air. +Listening intently, he judged from the direction of the voices that the +women had not gone into the dining-room. + +Whitney walked toward the elevator, paused, then continued down the hall +and without rapping entered Kathleen's sitting-room. But he stopped on +the threshold on beholding Kathleen sitting before her desk with her head +resting upon its flat top, sound asleep. By her side lay paint box and +brushes and a half-completed miniature of Captain Miller. Without +disturbing her, Whitney crept softly from the room. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +SISTERS IN UNITY + + +It was a very much flurried Vincent who admitted Senator Randall Foster, +and helped him off with his overcoat. + +"They're still argufying," he said, indicating the closed drawing-room +doors with a jerk of his thumb. "I'll get word to Mrs. Whitney, sir, that +you have come." + +"No, no, don't interrupt the meeting," hastily interposed the Senator. "I +may be a few minutes early. Can I see Mr. Whitney?" + +"Yes, sir, certainly, sir. Come this way," and Vincent moved toward the +elevator shaft. "I don't believe Mr. Whitney has gone to his studio, yet, +sir; he never takes anyone there, and I haven't seen Mr. Spencer leave." + +"Mr. Spencer?" Foster drew back. "Is he with Mr. Whitney?" + +"Yes, sir, so Henry told me." + +"After all, I don't believe I'll disturb Mr. Whitney, Vincent. Is there +some place I can wait downstairs?" + +"Yes, sir, the reception room." The butler led the way to it "I'm afraid, +sir, you'll find it very uncomfortable in here, sir," looking at the +racks of coats and cloaks, "but"--brightening--"here's a copy of the +evening paper; Mr. Whitney must have left it; and this chair, sir--" + +"Yes, yes, Vincent, thank you, I'll be all right." Foster took possession +of the solitary uncovered chair. "This is an excellent opportunity of +reading over my speech. Be sure and let me know, Vincent, the instant I +am wanted in the drawing-room." + +"Surely, sir. I'll tell Mrs. Whitney that you are here, sir," and +Vincent retired. + +Inside the closed drawing-room and library the atmosphere was surcharged +with electricity. Miss Kiametia Grey, who had locked horns with her +opponents on numerous subjects, sat back, flushed and victorious; she was +beginning to feel the fatigue incident to having borne the brunt of the +discussion, and was secretly longing to have the meeting adjourn to the +dining-room where she suspected Mrs. Whitney had provided a bountiful +supper. She felt the need of refreshments, if only a Roman punch. + +Mrs. Whitney was also feeling the strain. She had designated a sister +official to occupy the chair when the nominating speeches were in order, +and was awaiting the announcement of the result of the ballot with inward +trepidation. Her composed manner and smiling face won Miss Kiametia's +admiration; she was herself of too excitable a temperament to keep her +equanimity unimpaired, and she watched Mrs. Whitney's calm demeanor and +unruffled poise, conscious of her own disheveled appearance. She missed +Kathleen; the latter's presence had become an almost virtual necessity to +the spinster. Despite the disparity in ages, their tastes were similar, +and both had a keen sense of humor. It had added zest to the spinster's +enjoyment of the season's gayeties to have Kathleen with her, and she had +watched the girl's gradual absorption in Captain Miller with lynx eyes. +The obliteration of Sinclair Spencer as a possible suitor had filled her +with delight. But she had seen Spencer in the house that very night. What +did that mean? What was he there for? Surely, Kathleen had not.... + +A stir in the back of the room recalled Miss Kiametia's wandering +thoughts, and she leaned eagerly forward to hear the report of the +chairman of the tellers. Mrs. Whitney was elected and Miss Kiametia had +also carried the day. Round after round of hearty applause greeted the +announcement, and as it died out the two successful candidates for first +and second place in the organization stepped to the platform. But after +expressing her thanks, Miss Kiametia again resumed her seat among the +members, while Mrs. Whitney took up the duties of presiding officer. + +As the regular business of the meeting drew to a close one of the members +rose, and on being recognized announced that she had a resolution to +offer, and read in a high singsong voice: + +"Be it resolved that this organization of Sisters in Unity indorse the +peace movement, and that it use its wide influence to check the tendency +toward militarism which injudicious and misguided Americans hope to foist +upon the American public." + +Applause greeted the speaker, and a gray-haired woman across the room +demanded recognition from the chair. + +"I would like to say a few words in favor of that resolution," she began, +finally catching Mrs. Whitney's attention. "Our wars with England, our +mother country, were but as the wrangle of relatives. The leaders in the +warring nations in Europe today are all related. Let us keep clear of all +international entanglements. Let us have peace. Through peace this +country has achieved greatness. Peace and prosperity go hand in hand. +Peace uplifts; war retards. Militarism is a throw-back to feudal days. On +its lighter side, militarism is an appeal for gold lace and brass +buttons. A man puts on our uniform because it is a thing of show, in +other words, conspicuous ..." + +"Madam chairman!" Her face flaming, an irate woman arose. "No, I don't +care whether I'm in order or not; I will be heard--Mrs. Lutz is quite +right, the United States uniform _is_ conspicuous, and has been +conspicuous on many a bloody battlefield since 1776. The uniform is +honored alike in court and camp in every nation of the world." + +As she sat down pandemonium reigned. Instantly Miss Kiametia was on her +feet, and her strident call, "Madam chairman, madam chairman," rose +repeatedly above the hubbub. Mrs. Whitney pounded for order and gave the +spinster the floor. + +"I rise to a question of information," explained Miss Kiametia, in tones +which echoed through the rooms. "Is this an indignation meeting or an +assemblage of Sisters in Unity?" she demanded, and sat down. In the +comparative quiet that ensued, the peace resolution was seconded and +passed by a small majority. + +Mrs. Whitney stepped to the edge of the platform. "Senator Randall +Foster has very kindly consented to address us tonight," she said. "So +distinguished a lawmaker needs no introduction to this organization. Mr. +Senator," as Foster entered through the door held open for him by +Vincent, "we invite you to the platform." + +Bowing his thanks, Foster joined Mrs. Whitney and immediately began one +of those adroit, well-worded addresses which had made him a marked man +in the Senate. "I come to you a special pleader," he continued, with +growing earnestness, "to spread the gospel of peace. It is your +privilege to weld public opinion, and opinion can be as a yoke upon a +man's neck. In this free America opinion governs. Jingoes would try to +plunge us into war. When a boy is given an airgun, his first impulse is +to go out and shoot it off. Arm the men of this country and their +impulse will be the same. A small standing army does not tend to +militarism; its size does not lend itself to the issuing of imperative +mandates; and mandates, ladies, lead to war. + +"It is especially a woman's duty to demand peace. In war, upon the woman +falls the suffering and the sacrifice. The lover, the brother, the +father, the son may find honorable death upon the field, but at home the +woman pays. God pity the woman left desolate and alone, her loved ones +sacrificed on the altar of militarism! + +"And mothers? What of your children and the fate of yet unborn +generations? Are they brought into the world to be tools of militarism? +Lift up your voice for peace; carry the message, 'Peace on earth' to the +very portals of Congress. Make any and every sacrifice, but guard your +man child." + +As Foster stopped speaking enthusiastic applause broke out, and a rising +vote of thanks was given him. As the gratified Senator stepped down from +the platform he found himself by Miss Kiametia's side. + +"I did it to please you, Kiametia," he whispered, holding her hand +tightly. "Have I earned one kind word?" + +Miss Kiametia favored him with a quick expressive look and a faint blush. + +"You are a staunch friend," she said warmly, and Foster brightened. +"Only--only why did you lay such stress on the 'man child'? Nearly all +are spinsters in this peace organization." + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +A MAN IN A HURRY + + +Heavy clouds hung low and not a star was visible. The darkness was +intensified by the gleam of distant city lights, for in that section of +Washington lying to the southwest of Pennsylvania Avenue a defective fuse +had caused the dimming of every electric light in the vicinity. Far up on +one of the roofs a man, crouching behind the meager shelter offered by a +chimney, blessed the chance which fortune provided. + +Crawling on hands and knees, he cautiously made his way to the edges of +the roof, on which he had dropped from the higher building next door, and +looked down. His eyes straining in the darkness, every sense alert to +danger, he scanned intently each window ledge and cornice. No hope there. +Not even a lead pipe or telephone wires afforded a hold for desperate, +gripping fingers. Unlike the building adjoining on the south, the new +house had no party wall, and a gulf too wide to jump separated it from +its northern neighbor. The sheer drop to the garden beneath was suicidal. + +The man lay for a few seconds striving to collect himself. He could not +return the way he had come. He would be caught like a rat in the trap +with the arrival of dawn, if not before. Perhaps his pursuers were on his +trail already. The thought spurred his numbed body to action, and lifting +his head he glanced along the flat roof. Toward the center of it rose a +box-like structure with apparently an arched skylight above it. A little +distance away from the structure, he distinguished the outlines of what +appeared to be a scuttle. Warily he approached it, and using every +precaution to make the least possible sound, he attempted to raise the +scuttle. A long sigh of relief escaped him as he succeeded. The scuttle +was not locked. + +He paused long enough to glance keenly about him. There was no sign of +another human being, but a sound smote his ear. Someone was moving on the +pebbled roof of the building he had just left. Without an instant's delay +he groped about until his feet touched the rung of a ladder, and drawing +to the scuttle behind him, he made his way down the ladder. + +On reaching the bottom he paused in indecision. He could make out nothing +in the inky blackness, and with every sense alive to danger, he waited. +But apparently his entrance had disturbed no one, and taking heart of +grace, he pulled out a tiny flashlight and pressed the button. + +The light revealed a large attic partly filled with trunks and worn +furniture. A large wine closet, the bottles shining as the light fell on +them through the slat partition, occupied one part of the attic, while a +wall partition, with closed door, ran across the entire western side. To +his right, the man made out the head of a narrow staircase. He was making +his way to the staircase when his acute hearing caught the sound of a +softly closing door on the floor below and approaching footsteps. + +Casting a hunted look about him, he spied a closed closet door. He doused +his light while making his way to the closet, and jerked open the door, +at the same time throwing out his right hand, the better to judge the +depth of the dark closet. His groping fingers closed on cold steel. His +heart lost a throb, then raced madly on, as he clung weakly to the metal. +An elevator shaft, and he had mistaken it for prison bars! + +For a second his chilled body was shaken with hysterical desire for +laughter; then his strong will conquered. He had not forgotten the +advancing footsteps. A desperate situation required desperate chances. +Stepping back he closed the outer door of the elevator shaft and pressed +the button for the elevator. Which would reach him first--the person +creeping upstairs or the automatic electric elevator? + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +A SINISTER DISCOVERY + + +Mrs. Whitney sat up in bed and contemplated her husband reproachfully as +he entered her room. + +"Have you been working all night?" she inquired. + +Whitney nodded absently as he stooped to kiss her. "Now, don't worry, +dear; work will not injure me. I've just had a cold shower and feel ten +per cent better, and all ready for my breakfast. You are the one who +looks tired; that's a very becoming cap you are wearing, but you need +more color here," pinching her cheek. "I don't like to see you so pale. +Were the Sisters in Unity as strenuous as ever?" + +"Just about--but, Oh, Winslow, I was elected...." + +"That was a foregone conclusion, you modest child." Again Whitney kissed +her. "Congratulations, my darling, though why you should want it...." + +Mrs. Whitney laughed good-naturedly. "I'm too happy today to argue the +question," she broke in. + +"Kiametia Grey frightened us all last night by fainting ..." + +"Fainting! Kiametia? I thought she was as tough as a horse?" + +"So she is usually, but she has been doing too much socially, and late +hours do not agree with a woman of her years." + +"She isn't so old," protested Whitney. + +"She is older than I, and I'm not so young," Mrs. Whitney, whose years +sat lightly upon her, jerked a dainty dressing-gown about her shoulders. +"Kiametia did faint and when she came to, declared it was the overheated +atmosphere of the rooms and the continuous talking which had upset her." + +"Well, you must admit, Minna, the Sisters are famous for noisy +discussions. Kiametia is generally able to hold up her end of an +argument. I am sorry she had to give in to superior numbers," Whitney +laughed. "You'll never convince me that she fainted." + +"She did, too; and felt so badly that I persuaded her not to go home, but +to spend the remainder of the night in our blue bedroom." + +"Good heavens!" Whitney gazed blankly at his wife. "Did she--did ..." + +"No, she did not stay there," pausing dramatically. "She found Sinclair +Spencer sound asleep in the bed." She waited expectantly for her +husband's comment, but getting no reply, she burst out, "What was he +doing there--how came he to be there?" + +"I was foolish enough to offer him whiskey." Her husband seated himself +carefully on the edge of the bed, "Spencer had been drinking before he +came to see me, and a very little more made him tipsy. I was fearful that +if I took him downstairs he would try and break up your meeting, so +persuaded him to go and lie down on the bed in the blue room." + +"Sometimes, Winslow, for a thoughtful man, you ball things up +dreadfully," sighed Mrs. Whitney. "Why did you select that room? You +always put your friends in the hall bedroom." + +"Never gave the matter of the rooms a thought." Whitney moved restlessly; +he hated to see a woman cry, and his wife looked perilously upon the +point of tears. In spite of his assertion that he did not miss the loss +of sleep, his nerves were not under full control. Ordinarily not a +drinking man, he had stopped on his way from his bedroom to help himself +to the small amount of Scotch left in the bottle. + +"Such a scene as I had with Kiametia," groaned Mrs. Whitney sighing +dismally at the recollection. "Finally, I convinced her that I knew +nothing of Mr. Spencer's presence, and she consented to sleep in the +hall bedroom." + +"I'm glad Kiametia discovered Spencer in time." His chuckle developing +into a laugh, Whitney rose and walked to the door. "It's no crying +matter, my dear. Kiametia will be the first to enjoy the joke." + +"If it had been anyone but Sinclair Spencer!" Mrs. Whitney shook her head +forlornly. "She has developed an intense dislike for him." + +"And Kiametia is usually a woman of discernment." His sarcasm passed +unheeded, and he opened the hall door. "Hurry and dress, Minna, I'll wait +for you in the dining-room. Heavens! What's that?" + +A muffled cry, long drawn out, agonizing, vibrated through the stillness. + +Spellbound, husband and wife eyed each other, then Whitney stepped into +the hall just as Miss Kiametia tore out of her bedroom. + +"What is it?" she demanded. "Oh, stop it, stop it!" clapping her hands +over her ears as the cry rose again. + +"It comes from the elevator shaft, sir," panted Vincent, appearing up the +stairs, Henry, the chauffeur, close at his heels. Without moving, Whitney +stared stupidly at the two servants, and it was Henry who laid a +trembling finger on the elevator button. As they heard the automatic car +come to a standstill on the other side of the closed mahogany door there +was a second's pause; then Miss Kiametia, summoning all her fortitude, +laid her hand on the door knob and pulled it open. A horrified +exclamation escaped her as her eyes fell upon Kathleen, whose bloodless +face was pressed against the iron grating of the inner door, to which she +was clinging for support. + +"Let me out," she pleaded, her eyes dark with horror. "Let me out." + +At sight of his daughter Whitney recovered himself. "Stand back, +Kathleen," he directed. "Then we can slide open the door." He had to +repeat his words twice before she took in their meaning. Releasing her +hold upon the grating, she covered her face as if to shut out some +terrifying spectacle. As Henry pushed back the door, she collapsed into +her father's arms. + +"Bring Kathleen in here," called Mrs. Whitney from her doorway, where she +had stood, too frightened to move. "There are smelling salts on my +bureau. What can have brought on this attack of hysterics, Kiametia?" + +"The Lord knows. Perhaps the machinery's out of order and she's been +stuck between floors." The spinster, suddenly remembering her extremely +light attire, backed toward her room. + +Whitney, reentering the hall, caught her words. "Go to Kathleen, Minna; +she asked for you," and as his wife turned back into her bedroom, he +added, "See if there is anything wrong with the elevator, Henry." + +Obediently the chauffeur stepped through the narrow entrance to the +elevator and into the steel cage. The next instant he turned an ashy face +toward his companions. + +"Look!" he gasped. "Look!" And his shaking hand pointed to that part of +the elevator concealed by the solid wall of the shaft from the view of +those standing in the hall. With one accord they crowded into the +elevator, and a stricken silence prevailed. + +Crouching on the floor at the far end of the shallow cage was Sinclair +Spencer. The rays of the overhead electric lamp, by which the cage was +lighted, showed plainly the gash in his throat, while crimson stains on +his white shirt added to the ghastly tableau. Death was stamped upon the +marble whiteness of his upturned face. + +"Good God!" Whitney reeled back and but for Vincent's arm would +have fallen. + +"Here, sir, sit here, sir," and the butler half lifted him to a chair in +the hall. "Go get whiskey, Henry," noting the pallor of Whitney's face. +"Quick, man!" + +"Telephone for a doctor, Vincent," directed Miss Kiametia, pulling +herself together. She had been the first to bolt out of the elevator. "I +will stay with Mr. Whitney until you get back," and flashing her a +grateful look, the butler, relieved to have responsibility taken from his +shoulders, fled downstairs after Henry. + +Miss Kiametia laid trembling hands on Whitney's bowed shoulders. + +"It's awful, Winslow," she stammered. "Awful!" + +As he paid no attention to her, but stared vacantly at the floor before +him, she paced to and fro, always careful, however, never to go in the +direction of the elevator. The exercise brought back some semblance of +self-control, and her eyes were beginning to take on their wonted snap +when Whitney rose unsteadily and stepped toward the elevator. Miss +Kiametia's voice stopped him on its threshold. + +"I wouldn't go in there again," she advised. "Wait until the +coroner comes." + +"The coroner?" staring stupidly at her. + +"Yes, hadn't you better send for him?" + +Whitney's hands dropped to his side with a hopeless gesture. "The +coroner," he muttered. "God help us!" + +"Winslow!" Mrs. Whitney appeared in the doorway, tears streaming down +her white cheeks. "Kathleen is completely unnerved; come and help me +quiet her." + +At that moment Henry arrived, tray in hand. "I couldn't find the whiskey, +sir," he explained, breathless with hurry. "But here's some cognac, sir. +Let me pour it out," and he handed a filled liqueur glass to Whitney, who +swallowed the stimulant at a gulp. + +"Shouldn't mind having some of that myself," announced Miss Kiametia. +"Bring the tray here, Henry," walking over to a table. "And, Winslow, +take a glass to Kathleen; it will do her good. Henry, did Vincent +telephone for the doctor?" she added below her breath, as Whitney and his +wife disappeared in the latter's bedroom and closed the door. + +"Yes, Miss Grey, but he was out. So Vincent rang up the hospital and +the coroner." + +"Good." Miss Kiametia debated a moment whether or not to take more +cognac, and ended by refilling her glass. "Stay right in this hall, +Henry; don't leave it for a moment until the doctor comes. I'm going in +to dress." + +As the door closed behind the spinster, Henry stood in deep thought, then +pouring out a glass of cognac he hastily drank it. Setting down the +glass, he tiptoed over to the elevator, but one look at the still figure +crouching with head thrown back and sightless eyes turned to the ceiling +sent him back into the center of the hall. Drawing out his handkerchief, +he mopped his damp forehead. + +From Mrs. Whitney's bedroom came the murmur of voices, and Henry, +darting a quick, searching look about the empty hall, slipped over to +the door and applied his ear to the keyhole. The sound of approaching +footsteps and voices warned him of the arrival of the physician, and +when Vincent appeared, followed by two men, he was standing on guard +near the elevator shaft. + +A quick word of explanation sufficed, and then the younger of the +newcomers entered the elevator. He recoiled at sight of Spencer, then +advancing tested the dead man's pulse and heart. + +"This is a case for you, Penfield," he exclaimed backing out into the +hall, and without a word the coroner took his place beside Spencer. The +young physician turned to Vincent. "Didn't you tell me that someone was +ill and required medical assistance? Mr. Spencer is dead; I can do +nothing for him." + +Without answering, Vincent tapped on Mrs. Whitney's door, and Whitney's +voice bade him enter. "Dr. Hall, sir," announced the butler. "Want him to +come in, sir?--Yes, sir; this way, Doctor," and he pulled to the door +after the physician. The elevator drew Vincent's eyes as a magnet draws +steel, and he started violently at sight of the coroner beckoning to him +from its entrance. + +"Call up Police Headquarters," directed Penfield. "Tell them I am here, +and ask to have Detective Mitchell and three plain-clothes men sent over +at once. Be quick about it," and his peremptory tone caused the agitated +butler to hasten his usually leisurely gait. Henry started to follow him, +but the coroner called him back. "Explain to me exactly what happened +when Mr. Spencer was found," he said, stepping into the hall. + +The tale lost nothing in Henry's telling, and Penfield was gnawing his +fingernails, a trick he had if perplexed, when Vincent escorted the +detective and plain-clothes policemen into the hall. The coroner rose +with alacrity. + +"Glad you could come, Mitchell," he said. "Let me put you in possession +of all facts so far known," and he repeated all that Henry had told him. +Mitchell listened in silence; only the gleam in his eyes attested his +interest, as his face remained expressionless. And that gleam deepened as +he stepped into the elevator and examined Spencer. When he came out he +was wrapping his handkerchief around a knife. Exchanging a glance with +the coroner, he turned to Vincent. + +"Show my men over the house," he directed, "and you," addressing +Henry, "inform Mr. Whitney that Coroner Penfield and I would like to +see him at once." + +"I am here." Whitney, who had entered the hall unnoticed a second before, +joined the group. "What can I do for you?" + +"Answer a few questions," and Penfield, observing the strain under which +he was laboring, pushed a chair in his direction. "Sit down, Mr. +Whitney." He turned back to Henry. "You need not wait," and the chauffeur +reluctantly went down the stairs. The coroner waited an appreciable +moment before again speaking to Whitney. "Was Mr. Spencer visiting you?" +he questioned. + +"Only for the night." + +"When did you see him last?" + +"About midnight." + +"And where was that?" + +"In the bedroom across the way," pointing to it, and the detective +crossed the hall and entered the room, the door of which was closed. + +"And what was Mr. Spencer doing the last time you saw him?" asked the +coroner, with quiet persistence. + +"Falling asleep," tersely. "Spencer was drunk," added Whitney after a +pause. "His behavior led me to believe that he would intrude upon my +wife's guests if he went downstairs, so I suggested that he spend the +night here." Whitney drew a long breath, "Is Spencer really dead?" + +"Yes." + +Whitney shrank back in his chair; he had aged in the past hour, and he +was conscious that his hands were trembling. "I feared so," he muttered, +"I feared so. Can"--clearing his throat--"can Spencer be moved?" + +"Not just yet; there are certain formalities to be gone through with +first." Penfield paused to make an entry in his notebook. "Of course, +there will be an autopsy--at the morgue. Oh, Mitchell," as the detective +returned, "have you any questions to ask Mr. Whitney?" + +Before answering the detective drew up a chair near Whitney. "I am +told your daughter's screams aroused the household," he said. "Can I +see Miss Whitney?" + +"No, you must wait until she is composed; the doctor is just +administering an opiate," replied Whitney hastily. "Kathleen has been +through a most harrowing experience." + +"I see." Mitchell drummed impatiently on the arm of his chair. Whitney +eyed the two men askance. Their manner, combined with the events of the +morning, was telling on him. At any price he must break the silence--he +could endure it no longer. + +"I wish to God," he exclaimed, "Spencer had chosen any other spot to kill +himself in than our elevator!" + +The coroner was the first to reply. "The wound was not self-inflicted." + +"What!" Whitney sprang to his feet. "Do you mean--Spencer was murdered?" + +"Yes." Both men never moved their gaze from Whitney's ashen face. "Were +all members of your family on good terms with Mr. Spencer?" + +"They were," Whitney moistened his parched lips, and only the detective +caught his furtive glance behind him. + +"Did anyone beside your immediate family spend last night in this house, +Mr. Whitney?" he asked. + +"No--yes," confusedly. "Miss Kiametia Grey...." + +"Winslow"--Mrs. Whitney, fully dressed, stepped into the hall from her +boudoir. "Pardon me," with a courteous inclination of her head as the +coroner and Mitchell rose. "Winslow, I've asked the servants, and they +tell me she has disappeared...." + +"She? Who?" chorused the three men. + +"Julie, my French maid." + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +HIDE AND SEEK + + +Charles Miller was generally an early riser, but the head waiter at the +Metropole was surreptitiously scanning his watch before giving the signal +to close the dining-room doors, when the Captain walked in and took his +accustomed seat at a distant table. Miller had but time to glance at the +headline, "Stormy Cabinet Meeting Predicted at White House Today," in his +morning newspaper, when eggs and toast were placed before him. His +attentive waiter poured the hot coffee and placed cream and sugar in his +cup without waiting for instructions. + +"Eggs all right, sir?" he asked anxiously, a trace of accent in his +pleasant voice. + +"Yes, thanks." Miller looked at him casually. "I haven't seen you before; +where's Jenkins?" + +"Transferred to the café, sir," smoothing a wrinkle out of the tablecloth +as he spoke. "I'll try to give satisfaction, sir." + +Miller nodded absently. "Oh, it's all right," he said, stifling a yawn, +and propping his newspaper against his coffee pot, ate his breakfast +leisurely, so leisurely that the other habitués of the hotel had finished +their breakfast and departed before he pushed back his chair. Turning, he +signed to his waiter to bring his check, and not appearing to do so, +watched his approach with keen interest. + +"Been a steward, haven't you?" he inquired. + +"Yes, sir." The waiter pocketed the tip with alacrity. "Hamburg-American +Line, sir." + +"Thought so." Miller signed his name with careful attention to each +stroke of the pencil. "How many of you are employed here?" + +"Eight, sir. The lines are tied up; we must have work, and it's hard to +get good berths, sir, with so many ships interned." + +"Quite so," Miller rose. "Your name--?" + +"Lewis. Just a moment, sir," as Miller started to cross the deserted +dining-room, "Shall I reserve the table for you for luncheon, sir?" + +"Luncheon?" Miller reflected. "I rather think not." + +"Thank you, sir." The waiter's manner was apologetic. "I asked, sir, +because, sir, today the Cabinet officers lunch here, and...." + +"They require your undivided attention?" mildly. "I quite +understand--Ludwig." Their eyes met, then Miller turned on his heel. +_"Auf wiedersehen"_ he exclaimed under his breath, and the waiter's +stolid expression changed to one of relief. + +Miller, who had checked his overcoat and hat before entering the +dining-room, wasted no time but entered a public telephone booth. When he +emerged he was whistling cheerily, and the doorkeeper watched him hail a +street car with curious eyes. + +"Always running in and out," he muttered. "It beats me when he sleeps." + +First stopping at a florist's and then a jeweler's establishment, Miller +bent his footsteps toward the Portland, and to his satisfaction found +Senator Foster enjoying a belated breakfast in his apartment. + +"I'm glad to discover a man keeping later hours than I" he remarked, +accepting the chair Foster pulled forward. "You must have an easy +conscience to sleep so late in the morning." + +"Or enjoyed the devil of a night--er--mare." The Senator's face was +flushed and his strong voice husky. "You mistake; this is luncheon, not +breakfast Keep me company? No?" Foster pecked viciously at his lamb chop. +"I've no appetite at all. Caught a beastly cold at the Sisters in Unity +meeting last night. Cough all the time--beastly climate, Washington." + +"Why stay here?" + +"Oh, Congress...." + +"But that adjourned three weeks ago." + +Foster frowned, then smiled. "A woman's whim--we are not always +independent, Miller"--a shrug completed the sentence. "Change your mind +and have some Scotch?" + +"No, thanks." Miller drew his chair closer to his companion, and lowered +his voice. "I called this morning, Senator, to ask some questions about +Winslow Whitney." + +Foster's smile vanished, and the glance he shot at Miller was sharp. + +"It depends on the questions," he began stiffly, "whether they are +answered or not." + +"Quite right," with unruffled composure. "I shall ask nothing which +cannot be answered with propriety." Miller ceased speaking to light a +cigarette. "All Washington knows Whitney is a man of wealth"--his keen +eyes detected the sudden alteration in Foster's expression--"of standing +in the social and business world, but has he achieved success as an +inventor?" + +"Yes," was the instant and unqualified response, and Miller's eyes +lighted, but it was some seconds before he put another question. + +"Are you familiar with his latest invention?" + +"You mean his camera for use in aeroplanes?" + +"Yes. Do you think it has any hope of success?" + +"I believe so; Whitney declares the experiments are entirely +satisfactory." + +"Have you seen results of the tests?" + +"Whitney showed me views of New York City and its environs taken from an +aeroplane. They were--wonderful--" the Senator puffed nervously at his +cigar--"perfect maps." + +"Indeed?" Miller made no effort to conceal his eager curiosity. "At what +height were they taken?" + +"Ah, that I do not feel at liberty to disclose. How, when, and where this +new camera can be utilized is of interest to all military men; but as +Whitney's friend, I could not divulge details he may desire kept secret, +even if I knew them." + +"Pardon me, I thought you his most intimate friend...." + +"I am, but not his confidant. And as his friend, I cannot discuss his +private affairs with you." + +"I don't agree with you there." Miller tossed his cigarette stub into the +iron grate. "Would it not be a friendly act to place Whitney in a +position to coin money?" + +"Ah, so that is why you take an interest in his invention?" Foster +laid down his cigar and contemplated his companion closely. "You wish +to buy ..." + +"Exactly." + +"Is the purchaser to be the same for whom you are collecting horses and +ammunition?" + +"Yes." + +Foster did not answer at once, and Miller, without seeming to do so, took +silent note of the handsome appointments of the dining-room. The silver +service on the sideboard, the cut-glass decanters and liqueurs seemed +somewhat out of place in a bachelor apartment. Somewhat puzzled, Miller +looked more fully at his host, hoping to find an answer to his unspoken +doubts. Careful of his dress, deportment, and democracy, Foster had early +gained the sobriquet "Dandy," but there was nothing effeminate in his +spare though muscular form, and his long under jaw indicated bull-dog +obstinacy. Confessing to fifty, Foster did not look his age by ten years. + +"I shall have to ponder your question, Miller." As he spoke Foster rose. +"Frankly, I've been striving to interest our Government in Whitney's +invention, and that is one of the things which has kept me in Washington. +Suppose we go and see Whitney now. I know that he is anxious to dispose +of his invention--he is hard pressed for money,'' + +"Indeed!" The pupils of Miller's eyes contracted suddenly. "Possibly +Whitney will give me a hearing, and I need not offer"--he stopped, +looked at his cigarette case, returned it to his pocket, and followed +Foster out of the room--"a large sum," he finished, helping the Senator +into his overcoat. + +Foster laughed shortly. "You will get no bargain. Whitney's politeness is +on the surface; underneath he is as hard as nails, and suspicious--" The +Senator's cough cut short his speech and echoed down the corridor as he +closed the door to his apartment. "Won't even let me look at the camera, +much less let me examine the lens, specifications, drawings, plate, et +cetera. In fact, refused to give me any details, although he knows I must +have the information so as to interest others in his invention." + +"But surely he has had the camera tested thoroughly?" + +"Oh, yes. It has leaked out that the lens is so powerful and the +mechanical parts of the camera so perfect that maps of the country taken +at a remarkable height depict fortifications to the minutest detail. No +one knows the method employed to bring about such a result. That is the +secret locked inside Whitney's studio and his brain. Whitney is a genius, +and unlike others of his ilk, is extremely modest about his own +achievements. He covers his real nature under a mantle of eccentricity. I +doubt if his wife and daughter really gauge his capabilities." A violent +fit of coughing interrupted him, and he did not speak again for some +minutes. As the elevator reached the ground floor, Foster saw his +chauffeur standing near the office. "My car at the door?" he asked, as +the man approached. + +"Yes, sir," touching his cap. "Will you drive, sir?" + +"Not today, too much cold, don't want pneumonia. Jump in, Miller." Foster +signed to him to enter first. "Take us to the Whitneys', Mason," he +directed, and sprang into the tonneau. + +Five minutes later they stopped in front of the Whitney house, and +directing his chauffeur to wait, Foster accompanied Miller up the steps, +but before either could touch the bell, the door was opened by Vincent +whose white face brightened at the sight of the Senator. + +"Step right in, sir," he begged. "The master was just telephoning for +you, sir." Vincent paused and looked doubtfully at Miller. "Did you wish +to see Miss Kathleen, sir?" + +"Yes," taking out his visiting card. + +"Miss Kathleen is sick in bed." Vincent appeared still more confused, but +Foster, standing somewhat in shadow, caught Miller's look of alarm which +the butler missed. + +"What is the matter with Miss Kathleen?" demanded Miller, and there was +no mistaking the feeling in his voice and manner. + +"She had a shock, sir, a most awful shock." While speaking Vincent +tiptoed toward the library; he felt that he could never make a loud noise +in that house again. "An awful shock," he repeated. "We all felt it." + +"What do you mean?" Foster laid an impatient hand on the old +servant's shoulder. + +"Why, sir, he's dead...." + +"Whitney?" The question sprang simultaneously from Foster and Miller. + +"No, no, sir. Mr. Sinclair Spencer, sir. He was murdered"--Vincent +shuddered as the last word crossed his lips. + +His hearers stared stupidly at each other, and then at the butler. "Who +murdered him?" asked Miller, the first to recover speech. + +"We don't know--they say Julie; leastways we only know for positive that +Miss Kathleen was with him ..." + +Miller turned first white then red, and an angry gleam lit his eye as he +stepped nearer the agitated servant. + +"That will do. Go tell Mr. Whitney we are here," and his tone caused +Vincent to hurry away in deep resentment. + +Foster gazed dazedly at Miller. "What can have happened?" he asked. "Was +Spencer so foolish as to bait Winslow ..." + +"Careful," cautioned Miller, his quick ear detecting a footstep in the +adjoining drawing-room. An instant later Miss Kiametia Grey stepped into +the library. + +"Thank goodness you have come," she exclaimed, darting toward Foster. +"I've wanted you so much ..." + +"My darling"--Foster, forgetful of Miller's presence, clasped her hand in +both of his. + +"There--there--this isn't any time for sentiment," and Miss Kiametia's +chilly tone recalled the Senator to the fact that they were not alone. +Looking a trifle foolish, he dropped her hand and stepped back. + +"What can I do for you?" he asked, coldly. "You said you needed me." + +"Well, so I do, as legal adviser," with unflattering emphasis. "Good +morning, Captain Miller; I did not recognize you at first. I suppose you +have both heard of Sinclair Spencer's tragic death." + +"Yes, but none of the particulars," answered Miller. "And also that +Kathleen is ill. Do tell me how she is," and though he strove to conceal +his anxiety, his manner betrayed his emotion to the sharp-eyed spinster. + +"The doctor gave her an opiate," she said quickly. "She will be herself +again when she awakes. Her condition does not worry me." She hesitated, +shot a quick furtive look at Miller's intent face, and added: "But I am +alarmed by the mystery surrounding Sinclair Spencer's death." + +"Tell us the details," urged Foster. + +"Details," echoed the spinster. "There are none. We were awakened this +morning by Kathleen's screams, rushed into the hall and found her in the +elevator with Sinclair Spencer's dead body. She appeared completely +unstrung, could make no coherent statement, and when the doctor came, was +given an opiate." She paused and looked hopelessly at the two men. "We +know no more of the murder than that." + +"We must wait until Kathleen awakens," said Whitney, and Miss Kiametia +started violently at the sound of his voice; so absorbed had the others +been in her remarks that his quiet entrance a few minutes before had +passed unnoticed. "I trust that she will then be more composed." + +"Did she say nothing to you and Minna when you were with her before the +doctor arrived?" questioned Miss Kiametia, smothering her eagerness with +difficulty. + +"Nothing that made sense." Whitney ran his fingers through his gray hair +until it stood upright. "She babbled Spencer's name, alternating with the +moaning cry, '_Kaiser blumen_.'" + +"'_Kaiser blumen_!' What in the world--" The spinster checked her hasty +speech on catching sight of Detective Mitchell loitering just inside the +library door. "Do you want to see Mr. Whitney?" she asked, raising her +voice a trifle, and all turned to face the detective as he advanced +toward them. Bowing gravely to Senator Foster and Captain Miller, +Mitchell stopped opposite the spinster, but his first remark was directed +to Whitney. + +"Your wife tells me, sir, that the French maid, Julie, has been in your +employ over four years." + +"She has," acknowledged Whitney, making no effort to conceal his +impatience. "Will you kindly postpone your questions, Mitchell, until +later; I desire to converse with my friends now." + +"I will intrude but a moment longer." Mitchell slipped one hand inside +his coat pocket. "When will it be convenient, sir, for you to take me +into your studio?" + +Whitney looked at the detective as if he did not believe his ears. + +"Why the devil should I take you through my studio?" he thundered, his +anger rising. "I take no one there--you understand, no one." + +"Pardon me, these are exceptional circumstances. As an officer of the law +it is my duty to examine the entire premises where a crime has been +committed. On reaching your attic, I found the door leading to your +studio locked, and I have come downstairs, sir, to ask you to take me +into that room." + +"And I absolutely refuse." + +"In that case, sir," there was a steely glint in Mitchell's eyes +which betokened trouble, "I shall send for a locksmith and have the +bolt forced." + +"Wait," Foster laid a restraining hand on Whitney's shoulder as the +latter made a hasty step in the detective's direction. "I assure you, +Mitchell, that the so-called studio is Mr. Whitney's workshop; he is, as +you no doubt know, an inventor." Whitney opened his mouth to speak, then +closed his jaws with a snap. "Mr. Whitney is now engaged upon a most +important invention. It is quite natural that he does not wish...." + +"It is hardly a matter of wishes, Mr. Senator," broke in Mitchell. "A +murder has been committed here, and it is imperative that everything be +done to apprehend and convict the criminal." + +"Ha!" Whitney's snort was almost a triumphant challenge. His altered +demeanor did not escape the shrewd eyes watching him so keenly. "So you +think I murdered Spencer?" + +"I have not said what I think," retorted the detective brusquely. "Come, +sir, we are wasting time; take me over your studio at once." + +Whitney's haggard face reddened with anger; twice he opened and shut his +mouth, then thinking better of his first impulse, he turned on his heel. + +"Follow me," he directed ungraciously. As he stepped toward the doorway +he looked back and encountered Miller's intent gaze. The Captain's gray +eyes, their devil-may-care sparkle dampened by anxiety for Kathleen, +broad forehead, and firm mouth inspired confidence. He looked a man whose +word could be relied on. Whitney, harassed by conflicting doubts, and +agonizing apprehensions, acted on impulse. "Come with us, Captain. We'll +be right back, Kiametia; you and Foster wait for us here." + +By common consent the three men avoided the elevator and walked up +stairs. On reaching the attic, Whitney made at once for his studio and +inserting keys in the double lock turned the wards, and opened the door. + +"Go in," he said, and waited until the two men had preceded him in the +room, then entered and closed the door, shooting the inner bolt. The +detective looked around as the faint click of the metal caught his ear. +"Force of habit," explained Whitney. "Hurry and make your examination, +Mitchell; I wish to rejoin my friends downstairs as quickly as possible. +Have a seat, Captain?" + +But Miller declined, and stood watching Mitchell as he made a thorough +search of the apartment. Nothing escaped his attention, and such +furniture as the room boasted was minutely scrutinized, even the Cooper +Hewitt lights and cylinder arc lights being switched on to assist in the +examination. Models, large sink, darkroom, cabinets, tool chest, drawing +tables, and small chemical laboratory were subjected to a thorough +search. Miller's silent wonder grew; nowhere did he perceive a model +resembling a camera, or the camera itself. + +Whitney, sitting astride an ordinary wooden chair, followed the +detective's movements with sardonic amusement, which now and then found +vent in a grim smile. Whitney's expression was not lost upon Miller, who, +finding him a more interesting study than Mitchell, watched him intently +while appearing to be deeply engaged in examining an elevator model. + +"Isn't this the design copied in building your elevator, Mr. +Whitney?" he asked. + +"Yes; that is the model I made when the elevator was built. It was one of +the first installed in a private residence in Washington." + +"It is somewhat different from others that I have seen," commented the +detective, replacing a bottle carefully on a shelf. "The cage is so very +shallow in depth and so long in width." + +"I had to cut my coat according to my cloth," curtly. "This house is very +old and the outer walls are of unusual thickness, also the inner ones, +which accounts for the peculiar shape of the elevator. The brick shaft +had to be built to conform to the walls and staircase. I also invented +that safety air brake catch," he added, as Miller ran the elevator to the +top of the shaft and released the cage with a sudden jerk. The elevator +slipped down a flight, then automatically adjusted itself and stopped. + +"A clever idea," said Miller admiringly. "When I first used your +elevator, Mr. Whitney, I was struck by its unexpected capacity to hold +six people. Its shallowness is deceptive." + +"That's so." Whitney stared at the clock suggestively. "Kathleen, as a +child, used to slip in unseen, and as the majority of the people enter +the elevator facing the floor button plate with their backs to where she +stood, she gave her governesses many scares." + +The detective stopped to examine the elevator model carefully, and +pressed the button marked "Attic." "Persons entering the elevator +instinctively pull to the inner door with their left hand and push the +floor button with the right, and they would be standing with their backs +to where Spencer lay," he said. + +"And anyone could have started the elevator without knowing of his +presence," put in Miller softly, and the detective nodded assent. + +"You have no floor indicator connected with the elevator, Mr. Whitney," +commented Mitchell thoughtfully. + +"No." Whitney rose abruptly. "Finished your search?" Not waiting for a +reply he prepared to leave, and a covert sneer crossed his lips as he +asked, "Found anything criminal?" + +"Only these bottles," indicating the shelves near the laboratory. +"There's enough poison here to kill a regiment." + +"And only for use in photography," Whitney busied himself in adjusting +shades which the detective had raised or lowered the better to see the +room. "Rather a commentary on the laws governing the sale of poisons, +Mitchell; can't buy them at a druggist's, but any man, woman, or child +can go into a photographic supply store and buy any quantity of deadly +poison and no questions asked." + +"Perhaps," was Mitchell's sole comment, as he removed a stopper from a +blue glass bottle and sniffed at its contents. + +"Hm! You are of an inquiring turn of mind." Whitney's eyes contracted +suddenly. "May I remind you that Spencer, whose death you are +investigating, was stabbed." + +"With a dull knife," answered Mitchell, setting down the bottle. "And it +must have taken muscular force to drive the knife home." + +Whitney was suddenly conscious of both men's full regard, and his thin, +wiry figure stiffened. His eyes snapped with pent-up feeling. + +"Is a man to be convicted of crime because it is physically possible for +him to commit murder?" he demanded harshly, and not waiting for an answer +unbolted the door. "I fear, Mitchell, you have wasted both my time and +yours. Remember this, sir." He stepped directly in front of the +detective. "Those making a charge must prove it. Now go." + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +A QUESTION OF LOYALTY + + +Miss Kiametia Grey waited until the sound of Whitney's, Miller's and the +detective's footsteps had died away down the hall before addressing +Senator Foster. + +"Suppose we sit over there," she suggested, indicating a large +leather sofa, and not waiting for his assent, walked over to it and +seated herself. + +The sofa stood with its back to one of the windows, and from its broad +seat its occupants would have a complete view of the attractive library +with its massive furniture, huge old-fashioned chimney, and +bookcase-lined walls. Foster, following Miss Kiametia, was startled by a +glimpse of her face as she stepped into the sunlight whose merciless rays +betrayed the new lines about her closely compressed lips. A touch of +rouge enhanced her pallor. Suddenly conscious of his intent regard she +seated herself, turning her back squarely to the light. + +"Sit there," she exclaimed pettishly, pointing to a Morris chair which +stood close to the sofa. "I prefer to have the person I'm talking to +face me." Without remark Foster made himself comfortable, first, however, +pulling down the shade to protect his eyes from the glare of sunlight. + +"We can't be overheard," began Miss Kiametia. "At least I don't think we +can," and her sharp glance roved inquiringly about the room. "What was +Sinclair Spencer doing in that elevator?" + +"Going downstairs," hazarded the Senator, "or up." + +"Or waiting." + +"Eh?" Foster shot a quick look at her. "Waiting? What for?" + +"That is what we have to discover," and Miss Kiametia sat back and folded +her hands. + +"Yours is hardly a reasonable supposition. People do not usually wait in +elevators, Kiametia." + +"There's no law against it," was her tart reply. "I have very good reason +to believe Spencer was _not_ going out of the house." + +"May I ask what that reason is?" + +"He wore no shoes," and for an instant a smile hovered on her lips as she +caught his startled expression. She was woman enough to enjoy creating a +sensation, and it was not often that she surprised the Senator. + +"Is that so!" he exclaimed thoughtfully. "That puts a somewhat different +complexion on the matter." + +"It does. Why was Sinclair Spencer gallivanting about this house in his +stocking feet?" + +Foster played with his watch chain. "Upon my word, I don't know," he +replied at last. + +"Well, you might hazard a guess." But Foster's only answer was a negative +shake of his head. "Pshaw! use your imagination--suppose Spencer was +unduly inquisitive about Winslow's invention--" + +"Stop, Kiametia!" Foster held up a warning hand. "You are treading on +dangerous ground. Be sure of your facts before suggesting that a man of +Winslow's known integrity is involved in--murder." + +"How you men do jump at conclusions," grumbled Miss Kiametia. "I believe +Julie, the maid, killed Spencer because she found him snooping around +where he had no business to be." + +"Why should the maid play watchdog?" + +"Because she's French, stupid; and I believe, firmly believe, Sinclair +Spencer was in the pay of Germany. Both he and the maid were after +Winslow's invention, one to steal, the other to protect." + +"You have astonishing theories." Foster leaned back and regarded her in +silence, then resumed, "Suppose you give me an exact account of what +transpired this morning." + +He listened with rapt attention to the spinster's graphic description of +the finding of Kathleen and Sinclair Spencer in the elevator. + +"Strange, very strange," he muttered, as she brought the recital to an +end. "How did Kathleen come to enter the elevator without seeing its +occupant?" + +"You take it for granted that Spencer was dead at that time?" asked +the spinster. + +A look of horror crept into Foster's eyes. "Kiametia, what do you mean to +insinuate? Your question implies--" + +"Nothing," hastily. "I only want you, with your sane common sense, to +kill an intolerable doubt. Kathleen cannot--_cannot_ know anything of +this crime." + +"If you doubt, why not ask Kathleen how and when she came to be in the +elevator with Spencer's dead body?" + +"Kathleen is still under the effects of the opiate, and you heard what +Winslow said a few minutes ago about her behavior before the +physician's arrival." + +"Don't worry." Foster laid a soothing hand on hers. "Kathleen's condition +is not surprising under the circumstances; the shock of finding +Spencer's dead body was quite enough to produce hysteria and irrational +conduct. When herself, her explanations will clear up the mystery. +Therefore, why harbor a doubt of her innocence?" + +"If you had seen the expression of her eyes," exclaimed Miss Kiametia. +"It betrayed more than shock and horror. If ever I saw mental anguish +depicted, a naked soul in torment, I saw it then. God help the child!" +She paused and stared at Foster. "Why should Kathleen betray such +emotion? Sinclair Spencer was less than nothing to her." + +"He was very attentive," said Foster slowly. "I have even heard it +reported last fall that they were engaged." + +"Engaged? Fiddlesticks!" Miss Kiametia's head went up in a style +indicative of battle. "Imagine Kathleen caring for a man who openly +boasted he had held the best blood of America in his arms--she isn't that +kind of girl!" + +"Come, Spencer wasn't so unattractive," protested Foster. "I hold no +brief for him; in fact, some of his business transactions were shady; but +upon my word, he was exceedingly good-looking, and if I remember rightly, +you encouraged him to come to your apartment." + +"I've done some remarkably stupid things occasionally," said Miss +Kiametia composedly. "That was one of them." + +"Kiametia!" called a voice in the hallway, and the next moment the +portières parted and Mrs. Whitney walked into the library. "Oh, there you +are, my dear; I feared you had gone. I am so glad to see you, Senator," +clasping Foster's extended hand warmly. "Winslow and I both hoped you +could come to us. We want your advice." + +"I am entirely at your disposal." As he spoke, Foster dragged forward a +comfortable chair. "Sit here, Mrs. Whitney; you look quite done up," and +his sympathetic tone and manner brought tears to her hot, tired eyes. + +"It is such a comfort to see two such dear friends," she said, looking +gratefully at them. "And to talk to you openly, away from those dreadful +detectives. I haven't had an opportunity to speak privately to Winslow. +Detective Mitchell is his shadow." + +"A little brief authority," Foster shrugged his shoulders. "How is +Kathleen?" + +"Sleeping, thank God!" Mrs. Whitney lowered her voice. "I really feared +for her reason before the doctor came. I could not soothe her, or quiet +her wild weeping." She stopped to glance hastily over her shoulder. +"Vincent said something about Captain Miller having called--is the +Captain here?" + +"He has gone upstairs with your husband and Detective Mitchell," answered +Foster. "Tell me, Mrs. Whitney, was Sinclair Spencer visiting you for any +length of time?" + +"Oh, no; his stopping here last night was quite unexpected; in fact so +unexpected to me that I accidentally put Kiametia in the same room +with him." + +"I didn't stay there," hastily ejaculated the spinster, crimsoning. "The +moment I saw him in bed, I fled." + +"Was he asleep?" questioned Foster; Miss Kiametia had not told him these +details in her description of events at the Whitney residence. + +"I presume so; his eyes were closed--thank goodness!" she added under +her breath, and quickly changed the subject "Any news of Julie's +whereabouts, Minna?" + +"Apparently not; I telephoned to Police Headquarters half an hour ago, +and the desk sergeant said they had found no trace of her." + +"Where is your maid's bedroom, Mrs. Whitney?" asked Foster. + +"She rooms with the cook on the third floor." + +"What does the cook say about Julie's disappearance?" + +"She is as mystified as the rest of us; declares Julie went to bed at the +same time she did, and that when she awoke this morning, the covers on +Julie's bed were thrown back. Thinking Julie had preceded her downstairs, +she dressed and attended to her usual duties. It was not until I rang for +Julie that the other servants realized that none of them had seen her +this morning. Not one, apparently, has the faintest idea as to when she +disappeared, and where." + +"So!" ejaculated Foster unbelievingly. "I imagine the police will jog +their memories." + +"Let us hope they will succeed in finding Julie," snapped Miss Kiametia. +"I confess the situation is getting on my nerves. If she committed the +murder, she should suffer for it. If not, she should come forward and +prove her innocence." + +"It is essential that Julie be found," agreed Foster. "For my +part, I...." + +"Beg pardon, sir," and Vincent approached. "This note has just come for +you," presenting his silver salver to the Senator. "There's no answer, +sir. The clerk at the Portland sent the messenger here with it, as it was +marked 'Immediate.'" + +With a word of apology to his companions, Foster tore open the envelope +and hastily scanned the written lines. + +"I must leave at once," he announced, carefully placing the note in his +leather wallet. "I had forgotten entirely that I had an important +business engagement. Please tell Winslow, Mrs. Whitney, that I will come +back this evening; and you must both count on me if there is anything I +can do for you." + +"Won't you wait for Captain Miller?" asked Miss Kiametia, concealing her +disappointment at the abrupt termination of the interview. + +"Miller? I'm afraid not. Please tell him I was called away and that I +leave my touring car at his service." + +"If you plan to do that, may I get your chauffeur to take me home?" asked +Miss Kiametia quickly. + +"Why, of course; I only wish that I could accompany you." Foster +wavered, he desired most ardently to see the spinster alone, but the +note was urgent, and considering the source, could not be ignored. +"Good-bye." Shaking hands warmly with Mrs. Whitney and Miss Kiametia, he +hastily departed. + +Foster's appointment consumed over an hour, and on leaving the +government building where it had taken place, he walked aimlessly through +the city streets, so deep in thought that he gave no heed to the +direction he was taking. His absorption blinded him to the appearance of +an inconspicuously dressed, heavily veiled woman who, at sight of him, +shrank back under cover of the archway leading to a movie theater, until +he had passed safely up the street. She was about to step out on the +sidewalk again when the sight of a man walking rapidly down the street in +the direction Foster had disappeared, caused her to remain in partial +concealment. The woman peered at the last man irresolutely, while +pretending to examine a gaudy, flaring poster of the movie, one hand +pressed to her rapidly beating heart. Coming to a sudden decision, she +hastened after him, and nearing an intersecting street, overtook him. + +"Captain Miller," she called timidly, and at sound of his name, Miller +turned toward her. + +"Yes?" his hand raised toward his hat at sight of a woman. "You +called me?" + +"Yes, Captain." She drew nearer. "You do not recognize me, but"--sinking +her voice--"I am Julie." + +"Julie?" he echoed. + +"_Oui, monsieur_," in rapid French. "Mademoiselle Kathleen's maid. Ah, +monsieur, for the love you bear her, advise _me_ now. It is for her sake, +not for mine." + +The Captain eyed her intently. "I don't catch your meaning," he said, in +her native tongue. + +"You have surely heard, Captain, of the death of that devil, +Spencer"--Behind her veil, the Frenchwoman's eyes sparkled with rage. +"Well, Captain, his death was--justified." + +"I have no doubt of it," agreed her companion. "But, in the eyes of the +law, it will be termed...." + +"Murder." Her white lips barely formed the word, and she glanced +fearfully behind her. Her half-conscious action recalled the Captain to +their surroundings, and he, too, glanced up the street. Apparently they +had it to themselves; in that unfrequented part of the city there were +few passers-by. The Captain's eyes narrowed; he preferred never to be +conspicuous; a crowded street was more to his liking. + +"Suppose we move on," he suggested, but the Frenchwoman held back. + +"I have spent all the morning at the moving pictures," she said. "There +it is dark. Let us find another." + +"Very well; we can talk as we go," and the Captain suited his step to +hers. "And suppose also that we confine our remarks to English." + +"As monsieur pleases." She half repented her impulsive act. She had +intrusted her secret to another. Would that other prove loyal? A faint +shiver crept down her spine, and she pressed one mitted hand over the +other. "I seek seclusion, monsieur, because--I know too much." + +"'A little knowledge'"--the Captain did not finish the quotation. "Let us +turn down here," and not waiting for her consent, he piloted her up a +side street. "You do not, then, wish to make a confidant of the police?" + +"_Non, non, monsieur_," lapsing again into rapid French. "I think only of +Mademoiselle." + +A sudden gleam lighted the Captain's eyes. "Kathleen," his voice lingered +on her name. "You think she is in danger?" + +"I do, monsieur, in great danger. Did I not see"--she paused in her +hasty speech and bit her tongue; one indiscretion was leading to another. +"It matters not what I saw, monsieur--I am sometimes nearsighted." + +"In that case, your eyes will be examined if testifying in a trial for +murder," and he smiled covertly as he saw the fear tugging at her +heart-strings. "Enough, Julie; I will respect your confidences. You +know--how, I do not inquire--of my deep affection for Mademoiselle +Kathleen...." + +"Who would not love her?" broke in Julie passionately. "So generous, so +fearless and loyal! Ah! she will be faithful to France--she will guard +her father's secret--aye, even to the bitter end." + +"Hush! not so loud," admonished the Captain, laying a steadying hand on +her arm. "Let me think a moment." Totally unconscious of the tears which +fell one by one on her white cheeks, the excited Frenchwoman kept step +with him in silence for three blocks; then the Captain roused himself. +"You are willing to shield Mademoiselle Kathleen at all costs?" he asked. + +"_Oui, monsieur._" + +"And you think you can best accomplish that result by avoiding the +police?" + +"_Oui, monsieur_." + +"Have you money?" + +"A little, monsieur." She turned her troubled countenance toward him. "I +cannot travel far." + +"It is wiser not to travel at all." The Captain slackened his walk before +an unpretentious red brick residence. "The landlady of this house takes +paying guests and asks no questions. Here you can remain _perdue_," with +emphasis, "and no one inside will trouble you; but be cautious, Julie, +how you venture on the street day or night." + +"But, monsieur"--Julie drew back--"I do not fear for myself, only for +mademoiselle, and I like not to be indoors all day. The police, they will +only trouble me with questions should I return to the Whitneys." + +"If you do not return to the Whitneys, Julie, the police will think +you guilty." + +"Me, monsieur?" + +"Yes." + +"But--but--" stammered the Frenchwoman, overwhelmed. "I have committed no +crime. I but left because I could not bear to tell what I know." + +"Your departure is construed as a confession of guilt." The Captain bent +his handsome face nearer hers. "It is only a question, Julie, of the +depth of your affection for Mademoiselle Kathleen. Are you willing to +shield her at all costs?" + +The Frenchwoman faltered for a second, then drew herself proudly erect. +"_Oui, monsieur_. Mademoiselle was kind to me when I lost all--my lover, +my brothers died for France. There is no one who cares for me now but +mademoiselle. I shall not betray her." + +"Good!" The Captain wrung her hand. "Come," and he led the way into +the house. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +THE GAME, "I SPY" + + +Barely pausing to dip his pen in the inkstand, Charles Miller covered +sheet after sheet of thin paper with his fine legible writing. As he +reached the final word he laid down his pen and stretched his cramped +fingers and gently rubbed one hand over the other. For the first time +conscious of the chill atmosphere, he rose and moved about the room. +Stopping before the steam heater to turn it on, he walked back to his +desk and carefully read what he had written, correcting a phrase here and +there. Finally satisfied with the result, he selected an envelope and +placing the papers inside, sealed and addressed it. For a second he held +the envelope poised over the unstained blotting-paper, then raising it +gently, breathed on the still wet ink. At last convinced that it was dry, +he placed the envelope in the pocket of his bathrobe, and picking up his +pajamas went into the bathroom which opened out of his bedroom, and +closed the door. + +Five seconds, fifteen seconds passed, then the long curtains before the +window alcove gently parted and a man looked into the empty room. With +head and shoulders protruding he waited until the sound of running water +reached his ears, then advanced softly into the room. The desk was his +objective point, and his nimble fingers made quick work of sorting its +meager contents. His search was unrewarded; there was not a scrap of +incriminating writing in any drawer, and the neat pile of blotting-paper +was untouched. + +The intruder's expression altered; curiosity gave way to doubt. Without +wasting time he replaced every article where he found it, pausing +occasionally to listen to the sound of splashing coming from behind the +closed bathroom door. Convinced there was no immediate danger of +interruption from that quarter, he walked swiftly to the closet and +minutely examined Miller's clothing. Just as he was leaving the closet a +box-shaped leather bag marked "Underwood" attracted his attention, and +pushing aside a bundle of soiled underclothing, he knelt down and +inserted a skeleton key in the lock, and after a second's work, forced +back the wards and opened the lid of the box. The typewriter it contained +proved uninteresting, and putting back everything as he had found it, he +returned to the window by which he had entered. Pushing it open, he +climbed out on the ledge and, closing the window behind him, by the aid +of ropes swung himself over to a near-by fire escape and disappeared +inside a room opening from it. + +The slight sound occasioned by the closing of his bedroom window was +drowned in Miller's cheery whistle as he emerged from the bathroom. +Refreshed and invigorated by his bath, he switched off the lights and +climbed into bed. + +The sunlight was streaming in the windows when he awoke, and it was a +full minute before his sleepy senses grasped the fact that someone was +pounding on the hall door. Hastily donning his bathrobe, he turned the +key and opened the door. Henry, the Whitneys' chauffeur, was standing on +the threshold. + +"May I have a word with you, sir?" he asked. + +"Certainly, come in," and Miller, conscious of his negligé attire and +that two pretty women were passing down the hall, precipitously retreated +into his bedroom. "Shut the door after you." He waited until his order +had been followed, then demanded impetuously: "How is Miss Kathleen?" + +"Better, sir." + +"Thank God!" The fervid exclamation escaped him unwittingly, and a faint +tinge of red stained his cheeks as he met Henry's attentive regard. "Did +you give her my note?" + +"I sent it to her by the nurse, sir; Miss Kathleen still keeps her room," +said Henry respectfully. "Vincent tells me that she refused even to see +her mother and father." + +"Have you an answer for me?" as the servant paused. + +"The nurse came to the kitchen and gave me these"--pulling a letter and +package out of his pocket--"to deliver personally to you, sir; Miss +Kathleen asked to have them sent at once." + +Taking them Miller examined the addresses; the note was the one he had +written Kathleen, and the package bore the label of a prominent jeweler, +upon which was written Kathleen's full name in Miller's handwriting. Both +were unopened. Miller placed them in his pocket with unmoved face. + +"Why did you not deliver them to me last night?" he asked curtly. + +"I started to, sir, but seeing you walking with Baron von Fincke down +Massachusetts Avenue, sir, I...." Henry's eyes wavered and fell before +Miller's scrutiny. + +"Followed me?" prompted the latter, bending forward. + +"Only a little way"--quickly. "I did not like to intrude, sir, and by +following hoped to get a chance to give you Miss Kathleen's package and +note. I lost sight of you at Thomas Circle, sir, and went home. That is +the gospel truth, sir, as sure as my name is--Heinrich." + +Miller viewed the chauffeur in silence. "So!" he exclaimed, and a pleased +smile brightened his face. "Naturalized, or born in this country?" + +"Born here, sir, of naturalized parents." The chauffeur twisted his cap +nervously. "German-American, sir." + +"There is no such thing, Heinrich." Miller's voice deepened. "The hyphen +cannot be recognized. You are either American or German." + +The chauffeur straightened himself, and his heels clicked together as he +raised his hand in salute. + +"Hoch der Kaiser!" + +The words were echoed by Miller as he sprang forward and grasped the +chauffeur's hand. "For the Fatherland!" he added in German. "Why have you +not declared yourself before?" + +"Until last night, Herr Captain, I was not absolutely sure you were one +of us. But later in the evening Baron von Fincke...." + +"Stood sponsor for me," finished Miller, thrusting his hand in his pajama +pocket, and thereby pushing an envelope still deeper in it. "What have +you to report? Wait, speak English; the walls have ears." + +The chauffeur whitened and moved closer to Miller. "Was Mr. Spencer in +your confidence?" + +"No." + +"And the Baron did not trust him," said Heinrich, reflectively. "If he +was not one of us, how came he to be killed?" + +"God knows." Miller threw out his hands in a hopeless gesture. "I don't." + +"But there must be some motive for the crime," argued the chauffeur. +"Miss Kathleen must have suspected something before taking ..." Powerful +hands on his throat choked his utterance. + +"Never mention Miss Kathleen's name in that connection again," commanded +Miller, his voice low and stern. "You hear me, you dog!" and he shook +Heinrich until his teeth rattled, then released him. + +"Pardon," gasped the badly frightened man. "I meant no offense." + +"See that you follow my instructions hereafter." + +"Yes, sir"--Heinrich caressed his throat tenderly, and looked at Miller +with a new respect. "I was only going to mention, sir, that Mr. Spencer +meddled in what did not concern him. I believe he suspected what I have +come to believe." + +"And what is that?" + +"That this photography business is only a blind." + +"A blind?" Miller looked thoughtfully at his companion. "Suppose you pull +up a chair; wait, first hang your cap over the keyhole of the hall door." +While waiting for Heinrich to follow his instructions Miller seated +himself. "A blind?" he repeated. "No, no, Heinrich, you are mistaken; Mr. +Whitney has invented a very perfect aeroplane camera, of that I am +thoroughly convinced. And our country needs it...." + +"Undoubtedly, sir," Heinrich almost stuttered in his growing excitement. +"But he has invented something that we need more...." + +"What is that?" + +"I don't know, sir." + +Miller, who had been leaning forward in his eagerness, drew back. "Don't +waste my time, Heinrich," he said roughly. + +"Your time won't be wasted," protested the German. "Have patience and let +me explain. I cannot manage this affair alone, I need assistance--and +--you are a frequent caller at the Whitney house...." + +"Well, what then?" + +"Mr. Whitney may be persuaded to take you to his studio ..." the +chauffeur hesitated. + +"Proceed," directed Miller shortly. "You can count on me." + +"Good," the chauffeur hitched his chair closer. "Day before yesterday I +carried a telegram up to the studio. Not hearing any sound in the room, I +carefully turned the knob of the door and found it unlocked. For months I +have tried that door, hoping for just such luck," he interpolated. +"Opening it very softly, I saw Mr. Whitney standing with his back to me, +and facing the muzzle of a rifle. I had only time to note that the rifle +was braced on two iron brackets and that Mr. Whitney was holding a string +which was attached to the trigger; when I saw a flash, the rifle's +recoil--and Mr. Whitney still standing just where he was." + +Miller stared incredulously at Heinrich, down whose face sweat was +running; the man was obviously telling the truth--at least, what he +believed to be the truth. + +"Wake up, Heinrich," he said skeptically, and the chauffeur +flushed hotly. + +"It's God's truth I'm telling you," he declared solemnly. "For the sake +of the Fatherland, believe me." + +"I will," and Miller's fist came softly down on his desk. "Did you hear +no report?" + +"None; there was a Maxim silencer on the rifle." "I see--and blank +cartridges in the breech." "That is what I first thought on seeing Mr. +Whitney still standing," admitted Heinrich. "I believed he was trying to +commit suicide. Then I heard him exclaim: 'God be thanked! I've solved +the problem; it stood the test.'" + +"Hardly a suicide's speech." Miller stared at Heinrich. "Probably he was +testing the Maxim silencer." + +"No, Herr Captain." The chauffeur almost jumbled his words over each +other in his haste. "An instant after the flash, I saw Mr. Whitney sway +upon his feet, recover his balance, and stand upright." + +"The blast of powder must have caused that." + +"He was fully the length of the room from the muzzle of the rifle. There +were no powder marks on his vest and coat when he opened the door in +response to my knock a few minutes later. You see, Herr Captain, as soon +as I got back my wits, I closed the door. When Mr. Whitney pulled out +his gold pencil from his vest pocket to sign for the telegram I heard +something drop on the floor, and letting the receipt slip fall, I +stooped over and picked up with it--this--" and he laid on the desk a +Mauser bullet. + +Miller examined it curiously. His companion was the first to break the +silence. "It is flattened on one side, Herr Captain." + +"I see it is." Miller weighed the bullet in his hand. "You have something +more to tell me, Heinrich; out with it." + +"Yes, Herr Captain. That night I bribed Vincent to let me valet Mr. +Whitney, and I found the vest he wore that afternoon. In it, over the +heart, was a round hole." + +"Did the bullet fit it?" + +"Exactly." There was a protracted silence, which the chauffeur broke with +a question. "What do you make out of it, sir?" + +Miller did not answer directly. "Was Mr. Whitney wearing his ordinary +business suit?" he inquired. + +"Yes, Herr Captain." + +"You are sure he wore nothing over it?" + +"Absolutely positive." + +Miller handed back the bullet. "It rather looks as if Mr. Whitney has +invented some wearing apparel which Mauser bullets cannot penetrate," he +said slowly, "or else...." + +"Yes, Herr Captain." + +"You are a great liar." + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +AT THE MORGUE + + +Shortly before three o'clock on that same afternoon in which Heinrich had +confided in Miller, dashing turnouts and limousines, their smartly +liveried coachmen and chauffeurs asking now and then the direction from +street-crossing policeman, trotted and tooted their way down busy Seventh +Street toward the wharves, their destination a modest two-storied +stuccoed building bearing the words, "D. C. Morgue." The inquest on +Sinclair Spencer was to be held there at three o'clock. + +Spencer's tragic death twenty-four hours before had indeed created a +sensation in the nation's Capital. The wildest rumors were afloat. Was it +deliberate murder or suicide? The press, ever keen to scent sensational +news, had devoted much space to the little known facts and hinted at even +more startling developments; all of which but whetted the curiosity of +the public. The social prominence of the Whitneys had precipitated them +still further into the limelight; not often did the smart set have so +choice a titbit to discuss, and gossip ran riot. It had few facts to +thrive upon, as both the coroner and the police refused to give out the +slightest detail. + +"Good gracious!" ejaculated Miss Kiametia, as the touring car in which +she and Senator Foster were riding threaded its tooting way through the +many vehicles. "This street resembles Connecticut Avenue on Saturday +afternoon. Where _is_ the morgue?" + +"Right here," and Foster sprang out of the car with alacrity as it drew +up to the curb. He had been, for his cheery temperament, singularly +morose, and Miss Kiametia's attempt to make conversation during their +ride had failed. The spinster's talkativeness was a sure indication that +her nerves were on edge; she usually kept guard upon her tongue. + +"Do you suppose the Whitneys are here?" she asked, adjusting her veil +with nervous fingers as she crossed the uneven sidewalk. + +"Probably; I imagine we are late. Look out for that swing door." +Foster put out a steadying hand. "This way," turning to the left of +the entrance. + +"One moment, sir," and Detective Mitchell, who with several others from +the Central Office had been unobtrusively keeping tab on each new +arrival, joined them. "Miss Grey, being a witness, must stay with the +others in this room. The inquest is being held in that inner room, Mr. +Senator. Will you sit over here, Miss Grey...." + +But the spinster hesitated; she relied upon Foster more than she was +willing to admit, and the promise of his presence had reconciled her to +the prospect of a trying afternoon. + +"I prefer to go with you," she objected, turning appealingly to him. + +"But, Kiametia, you can't," interposed Foster hurriedly. "The law forbids +it. I will be in the next room should you need me." He gave her hand a +reassuring squeeze, then glanced hastily about the room. In one corner +the Whitney servants, their inward perturbance showing in their white +scared faces, sat huddled together, but there was no sign of Mr. and Mrs. +Whitney and Kathleen. Apparently he and Miss Kiametia were earlier than +he had at first thought. Turning from Miss Kiametia, he addressed +Detective Mitchell in a low tone. + +"Have you caught Julie, the French maid?" he asked. + +"All developments in the case will be brought out at the inquest," +replied Mitchell politely, and Foster, his curiosity unsatisfied, walked +away. He found the room used for inquests crowded to the doors, and made +his way through the knot of men standing about, to the reporters' table, +where a seat had been reserved for him by the morgue master. Across the +east end of the room was the raised platform upon which stood a long +table and chairs for the coroner, the deputy coroner, and the witnesses, +while to their left were the six chairs for the coroner's jury. As the +Senator seated himself he spied Charles Miller among the men standing at +the back of the room. There was a vacant chair next to his, and after a +few hurried words with the coroner, Foster beckoned Miller to join him. + +"I called you up repeatedly this morning," said Miller, pushing his chair +closer to the Senator so as to make room for a reporter on his left. "But +your servant declared you were not at home." + +"I spent most of the morning at the Whitneys' and lunched with Miss Grey. +Horrible affair, this; the Whitneys are all unstrung." + +"Did you see Kathleen?" + +"No," Foster stroked his chin nervously. "She has steadily refused to see +anyone, even her parents. Her conduct is most strange." + +"I don't agree with you," warmly. "She has undergone a great shock, +finding a friend dead in an elevator...." + +"Ah, did she?" The words seemed forced from Foster; he would have given +much to recall them on seeing the look that flashed in Miller's eyes. + +"She did," he asserted tersely. "Kathleen is the soul of honor--you have +but to know her to appreciate that--she and evil can never be associated +together." + +"You are a warm champion," exclaimed Foster. "I should almost imagine--" + +"That I am engaged to her?" calmly. "Quite true, I am." + +Foster drew back. "I--I beg pardon," he stammered in some confusion. "I +had no idea affairs had progressed so far--I am sorry I spoke as I did." + +"You were but echoing what I hear on all sides," answered Miller +bitterly. + +"True," Foster nodded. "Kathleen's extraordinary silence, when by a few +words she could explain what happened yesterday morning before her +screams aroused the household, is causing unfavorable comment and +unfortunate conjecture." + +"The mystery will be explained this afternoon," and quiet confidence rang +in Miller's pleasantly modulated tones. "Hello, I see some members of the +Diplomatic Corps are present." + +"And the so-called 'four hundred,'" growled Foster. The close atmosphere +had started him coughing, and he scowled at Baron Frederic von Fincke +who was seated near by. "Where is the jury?" he asked, as soon as the +paroxysm of coughing was over. + +"Viewing the body in that room." Miller indicated a closed door to his +right. "The jury is sworn in there by the morgue master." + +As he spoke the door opened and the six men, led by the morgue master, +filed into the room and took their places, and the low hum of +conversation died away as the coroner, stepping to the platform, stated +briefly the reason for the inquest, and summoned Dr. Hall, of the +Emergency Hospital, to the witness chair. He was quickly sworn by the +morgue master, and in response to the coroner's question, stated that he +had reached the Whitney residence shortly after eight o'clock Wednesday +morning in answer to a telephone call. + +"Tell the jury what you found on your arrival," directed the coroner. + +"I was shown upstairs by the butler, whose incoherent remarks led me to +suppose that someone was ill in the elevator. On entering it I found Mr. +Spencer, whom I knew slightly, lying there dead." + +"Did you make a thorough examination?" + +"Only enough to prove that life was extinct. The butler informed me that +my services were needed by Miss Whitney, and I went at once to her." + +"In what condition did you find her?" + +"Hysterical. To quiet her, I finally administered an opiate, and sent for +a trained nurse." + +"Did you consider her case dangerous?" + +"No, but she was completely unstrung; her nervous system had undergone a +severe shock, and I feared for her mental condition if not given +immediate relief and complete rest." + +"Have you seen her today?" + +"Yes, this morning." + +"How was she?" + +"Much improved." + +"Did Miss Whitney speak to you of Mr. Spencer?" + +"She did not." + +"Did you question her on the subject of the mystery surrounding Mr. +Spencer's death?" + +"I did not. In her condition I judged it a topic to be avoided. I also +cautioned her parents not to discuss it with her unless she voluntarily +alluded to it." + +"How long had Spencer been dead, Doctor, when you saw him?" + +"I cannot answer positively, as I did not make a thorough examination, +but judging from appearances, I should say he had been dead at least +four hours." + +Miller shot a triumphant look at Foster, then turned his attention to the +coroner, who was scanning his notebook. + +"I think that is all, Doctor," he announced, "you are excused." + +There was a slight pause, and the deputy coroner, who had been taking the +testimony, laid down his pen and gently massaged his hand. The next +instant at the coroner's direction, the morgue master ushered in +Detective Mitchell. The detective, after being duly sworn, told his full +name and length of service in the District force, and briefly described +his arrival at the Whitney residence. + +"You examined the body in the elevator?" questioned the coroner. + +"Yes, Doctor." + +"Was Mr. Spencer dressed?" + +"Yes, sir, except for coat, waistcoat, collar, and shoes." + +"Are these the clothes he had on at the time of his death?" The coroner +pointed to a pile of wearing apparel lying on the desk. + +"Yes, Doctor." + +"Did you search for the weapon with which Mr. Spencer's throat +was gashed?" + +"At once, sir," answered Mitchell promptly. "At the back of the elevator +near the body I found this"--holding up a short bone-handled knife which +he took from his coat pocket. "The blade was covered with blood." + +Coroner Penfield took the knife and after examining it, handed it to the +foreman of the jury who, upon scanning it closely, passed it on to his +companions. + +"Have you ever seen such a knife before?" questioned the coroner. "The +blade is a peculiar shape." + +"Yes, sir; that shape of knife is sometimes used in modeling clay and by +glaziers when handling putty." + +Penfield and the deputy coroner exchanged glances, then the coroner +resumed his questions. "Did you examine the bedroom Mr. Spencer occupied +Tuesday night, Mitchell?" + +"I did, sir." + +"Had the bed been slept in?" + +"Apparently it had, sir. The pillows and covering had been tossed about." + +"Did you find anything in the room belonging to the deceased?" + +"Yes, the coat and waistcoat of his suit, his collar and shoes." + +"Was there any indication, besides the tossing of the bedclothes, that +the deceased had made preparations to sleep there?" + +"Yes; I found a pair of pajamas lying on the floor near the bed, +apparently hastily discarded, as they were turned wrong side out." + +"Did you examine the deceased's clothes?' + +"Yes, sir. They were what any gentleman would wear in the evening. In his +pockets I found a wallet containing twenty dollars in bills, three +dollars in loose change, and his keys. Here they are, sir," and Mitchell, +as he mentioned each ticketed article, laid them on the table before the +coroner, who examined them carefully. + +"Was there anything about the room which especially claimed your +attention?" Mitchell paused and glanced thoughtfully at his polished +shoes. "Let me alter that question," said the coroner hastily. "Did +you find any indication in the room that Mr. Spencer expected to +return to it?" + +"His clothes were there, and the electric light by the bureau was +burning, notwithstanding the fact that it was nearly nine o'clock in +the morning." + +The coroner consulted his papers, "That is all just now," and Mitchell +departed. "Ask Mr. Whitney to step here," directed Penfield, a second +afterward. + +"Beg pardon, sir," and the morgue master stepped before the platform. +"Mr. Whitney went back to his residence to escort his daughter here. Mrs. +Whitney, however, is waiting in the next room." + +"Very well, bring Mrs. Whitney here," and the coroner left his seat to +assist her to the platform. Mrs. Whitney's customary self-control and air +of good breeding had not deserted her, and whatever her inward +tribulation at appearing before a coroner's jury, it was successfully +concealed as she repeated the oath after the morgue master. + +"Your full name?" questioned Coroner Penfield. + +"Minna Caswell Whitney, daughter of the late Judge William Caswell, of +New York." + +"You were married to Winslow Whitney in--" + +"1896." + +"And you have resided in Washington since then?" + +"Yes, except in the summer months when we went to our home in +Massachusetts or, occasionally, abroad." + +"Will you kindly state what took place at your house on Tuesday evening, +Mrs. Whitney?" + +"I entertained the Sisters in Unity, and afterward went to bed." The +concise reply wrung a smile from Foster. + +"At what hour did the members of your club depart?" + +"A little before one o'clock, Wednesday morning." + +"Then did you go direct to bed?" + +"No, I first showed Miss Kiametia Grey who, owing to an attack of +faintness, was spending the night at my home, to her room; then I +retired." + +"Were you aware that Mr. Spencer was also spending the night under +your roof?" + +"Not until Miss Grey informed me of the fact; I had inadvertently +placed her in the same room with Mr. Spencer. I immediately took her to +another room." + +"Was Mr. Spencer's bedroom in darkness when you ushered Miss Grey into +it?" + +"It was." + +"Did not your husband tell you of Mr. Spencer's presence?" + +"I did not see my husband until Wednesday morning; he had gone to his +studio in the attic when I went to my bedroom. He frequently works all +night on his inventions." + +"Were you awakened during the night by any noise?" + +"No." + +"Did you see your daughter before retiring?" + +"No." + +"Did she attend the meeting of your club?" + +"No, she is not a member." + +"When did you first hear of Mr. Spencer's death?" + +"The next morning, when my daughter's screams aroused the household." + +"How long has Julie Genet, your French maid, been in your employ?" + +"Four years." + +"Have you heard from her since her disappearance?" + +"No." + +"Was she acquainted with Mr. Spencer?" + +"I really don't know." + +The coroner flushed at her tone. "Was Julie discontented with her place?" +he asked, somewhat harshly. + +"I have no reason to suppose so; she never complained." + +"How did you come to employ her?" + +"A friend of mine brought her to this country, and a year later Julie +came to me; she was highly recommended." + +"Has she any relatives in this country to whom she might have gone?" + +"None that I ever heard of." Mrs. Whitney reflected for a second, then +added, "Julie told me some months ago that her only near relatives had +been killed in the war in France." + +"Was Julie a well trained servant?" + +"She was indeed; also good-natured, thoughtful, and obedient." + +"When did you last see Julie?" + +"Downstairs, when giving final directions to Vincent. I told her to +assist him in closing the house, and then go direct to bed; that I would +undress myself as it was so late." + +"Did she appear as usual?" + +"Yes." + +"Did you go at all to Mr. Spencer's bedroom yesterday morning after +hearing of his death?" + +"No." + +"We will not detain you longer, Mrs. Whitney," and with a slight bow to +the jurors and the coroner she made her way from the room. + +Her place was taken by Vincent, the butler, who testified that he had +gone about his work on Wednesday morning as customary, that all windows +and doors were locked as he had left them the night before, and that he +and Henry, the chauffeur, were busy replacing the drawing-room furniture, +removed the night before to make room for chairs for the meeting of the +Sisters in Unity, when startled by Miss Whitney's screams. He also stated +that having gone to bed very late, he had slept heavily and had not been +awakened until aroused at seven o'clock by the cook. His bedroom was +across the hall from the other servants. He had not realized that Julie +Genet was absent until Mrs. Whitney rang for her; he had supposed the +maid was upstairs waiting upon either her or Miss Whitney. No, Julie was +not quarrelsome; she was quiet, deeply engrossed in her own affairs, and +spent much of her time sewing in Miss Whitney's sitting-room. He had +heard that she was to have been married the previous December, but the +war had taken her fiancé back to the colors, and he had been killed in +the retreat on Paris. + +Henry, the chauffeur, was the next to testify. He admitted admiration for +Julie and stated that she had not encouraged his attentions, and the +remainder of his testimony simply corroborated that of Vincent. He did +not sleep in the Whitney residence, but took his meals there. + +When giving their testimony the chambermaid, laundress, and scullery +maid also stated they did not sleep at the Whitneys'; that Julie, while +always pleasant, kept very much to herself. They one and all declared +that they had never entered Sinclair Spencer's bedroom Wednesday morning +after the discovery of the tragedy. The coroner quickly dismissed each +one, and Rosa, the cook, looking extremely perturbed, was the last +servant to be questioned. She stated that she had not gone upstairs +Wednesday morning until noon. + +"Sure, I dunno whin Julie wint downstairs Wednesday mornin'," she +declared. "I slep' that heavy I niver hear her a'movin' around." + +"Was it her habit to get up before you did?" asked Coroner Penfield. + +"Yis, sor. She had oneasy nights, like, an' would be off downstairs at +the foist peep o' day. She brooded too much over the papers, I'm feared; +though 'twas natural to read av the divils who killed her kin and +swateheart in France." + +"Did Julie ever speak to you of Mr. Spencer?" + +"Wance or twice, maybe," admitted Rosa reluctantly. + +"Did she ever meet Mr. Spencer away from the house?" + +"Niver, sor." Rosa looked shocked. "Julie was real dacent, she niver +sought her betters' society. Nay, she was afeared Miss Kathleen might +listen to his courtin'. She didn't consider no wan good enough for Miss +Kathleen." + +"Ah, then she was fond of Miss Kathleen?" + +"Sure, fond's not the word; she was daffy about her. An' no wonder, Miss +Kathleen was that good to her; comforted her whin bad news came from the +wars, let her sit and sew wid her, and give her money to sind to France." + +"Was Julie on good terms with the other servants?" + +"Yis, sor. She and Henry had words now and thin; when Henry got teasin', +she didn't always take ut in good part." + +"Have you any idea where Julie went on leaving the Whitneys?" + +"No, sor; she has no real frinds in Washington. I dunno where she can be, +an' I'm sick o' worryin' over her." The warm-hearted Irishwoman's eyes +filled with tears. "Julie was excitable like and quicktempered, but she +niver did wrong, an' don't let yourselves be thinkin' ut." + +"There, there." The coroner laid a kindly hand on her arm. "We won't keep +you any longer, Mrs. O'Leary. Careful of that step," and as the morgue +master appeared, he asked, "Is Miss Kiametia Grey here?" + +"Yes, Doctor." + +"Then ask her to come in." He exchanged a few remarks with the deputy +coroner in a tone too low to reach the ears of the attentive reporters, +then turned back to the witness chair as Miss Kiametia seated herself. + +"We will only keep you a few minutes," he began, after the preliminary +questions had been asked the spinster. "I understand you were +accidentally shown into the bedroom already occupied by Mr. Spencer." + +"I was," stated Miss Kiametia, as the coroner paused. "Neither Mrs. +Whitney nor I was aware he was within a mile of us." + +"Did you discover his presence at once?" + +"No." The spinster's tone was short. "The bed is in an alcove, and I had +only turned on the electric bulb by the bureau; thus the room was in +partial darkness. I--eh--eh--" then with a rush--"I did not know he was +there until I was ready to get in bed." + +"Was Mr. Spencer asleep?" + +"I never waited to see." + +Coroner Penfield stifled a smile and changed the subject. "Were you +aroused during the night by any noise?" + +"No," sharply. "When once in the hall bedroom I took a pretty stiff drink +of whiskey as a nightcap, for I was feeling pretty shaky about then. +Consequently I slept soundly all through the night." + +"Was Mr. Spencer a great friend of yours?" + +"No," with uncomplimentary promptness. "But I did occasionally ask him to +large entertainments." + +"Did you see Miss Whitney before retiring on Tuesday night?" + +"No. Her mother told me she had gone to bed early." + +"Did you see Mr. Whitney?" + +"No." + +"Did you see Julie, the French maid?" + +"Not upstairs. Mrs. Whitney gave me the whiskey and a dressing-gown." + +"Can you tell me if Mr. Spencer was wearing his pajamas in bed?" + +"I cannot," dryly. + +"Did you enter Mr. Spencer's bedroom the next morning after hearing of +his death?" + +"I did not." + +"While in his room Tuesday night did you observe his clothes on a +chair or table? + +"No, and after discovering his presence, I was too keen to get out of +the room to notice anything in it." + +"Then possibly you left the light burning by the bureau?" + +"I did nothing of the sort. It is a hobby of mine never to waste gas or +electricity, and I remember distinctly stopping to put out the light +after I had picked up my clothes." + +"Quite sure, Miss Gray?" and the spinster bridled at his quizzical +glance. + +"I am willing to take my dying oath," she said solemnly, "that I left +that room in total darkness." + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +CIRCUMSTANTIAL EVIDENCE + + +"Mr. Winslow Whitney will be the next witness," announced Coroner +Penfield, first signifying to Miss Kiametia Grey that her presence was no +longer required in the witness chair, and the spinster, with an audible +sigh of relief, picked up her gold mesh purse and its dangling +accessories and hastily left the room. + +There was an instant craning of necks and raising of lorgnettes as the +door opened to admit Winslow Whitney. Courteously acknowledging the bows +of several friends seated near the entrance, he made his way to the +witness chair with a firm tread, and his clear voice was plainly heard +as, in answer to the morgue master's questions, he stated his full name, +age, and length of residence in Washington, having first taken the oath +to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. Charles +Miller, watching him intently, was relieved to find that the nervous +twitching of the muscles of his face and hands, so noticeable the day +before, was missing. Though his haggard face testified to a sleepless +night, Whitney was outwardly composed. + +"For how many years have you known Sinclair Spencer?" asked the coroner. + +"Fully ten." + +"Were you intimately acquainted?" + +"No. I knew him as I know dozens of other men; he was frequently at my +house, and on several occasions he assisted me in protecting my patents +in the law courts." + +"But you would not call him an intimate friend?" + +"Most assuredly not." + +"Was he in the habit of spending the night in your house?" + +"He has sometimes stopped with me during the summer months when I was +detained in Washington and my wife and daughter were away." + +"He was familiar with your house, then?" + +"You mean--architecturally?" + +"Yes. Could he find his way about it alone in the dark?" + +"I presume he could--provided he was sober," dryly. "The arrangement of +the rooms is not complicated, and one floor is very much like another." + +Coroner Penfield cleared his throat. "Was Mr. Spencer a welcome guest in +your house?" + +"Certainly; otherwise I should not have invited him," replied Whitney, +with quiet dignity. + +"Let me amend my question." The coroner laid down his pencil. "Was Mr. +Spencer on a friendly footing with each member of your household?" + +"I have every reason to believe he was." + +"Was Mr. Spencer's manner the same as usual when he called upon you +Tuesday evening?" + +"No." + +"In what way was it different?" + +"He had been drinking." + +"Was he rough, boisterous?" + +"The latter, yes. So much so, that I suggested he spend the night. I did +not wish him to go downstairs and disturb my wife's guests, which he was +quite capable of doing had the whim seized him." + +"Were you then upstairs, Mr. Whitney?" + +"Yes, in my wife's boudoir on the first bedroom floor." + +"When did you last see Mr. Spencer alive?" + +"When I showed him into his bedroom and loaned him a pair of pajamas." + +"Did you help him undress?" + +"No, as he assured me, with drunken gravity, that he could manage +it himself." + +"Did you inform your wife and daughter that Mr. Spencer was spending the +night in your house?" + +"No. My wife was downstairs entertaining her guests, and my daughter was +asleep in her room. I did not see either of them until the next morning." + +"Where did you go after leaving Mr. Spencer in his bedroom?" + +"To my studio in the attic. I remained there all night absorbed in my +work." + +"Did you hear any unusual sounds during the night?" + +"No; my studio, or workshop, is sound-proof. And it is the same +throughout the house," he added. "The walls, besides being of unusual +width, were all deadened by my grandfather's direction. He had a horror +of noise." + +"When did you leave your studio?" + +"About seven o'clock Wednesday morning." + +"Did you use the elevator then?" + +"No, I seldom use it." Whitney twisted about in his chair. "I had the +elevator installed for the convenience of my wife and daughter." + +Penfield made an entry in his notebook, then faced Whitney directly. + +"Have you in connection with your workshop a photographic outfit and +darkroom?" he asked. + +"I have." + +"I am told that you are working on a sort of camera which, used in an +aeroplane, makes a map of the country over which the machine passes. Is +that correct, Mr. Whitney?" + +"Yes," acknowledged Whitney. "A patent is pending." + +"Had it gotten about among your servants that you were working upon an +important invention?" + +"It's very possible," Whitney conceded. + +"Did Julie, your wife's maid, ever evince undue curiosity in your work?" + +Whitney wrinkled his brow in thought. "No," he said. "I can't say that I +am aware she did. When I go to my studio, as we usually call my workshop, +it is an understood thing that I am not to be disturbed by _anyone_. It +is a rule I enforce by dismissal if broken, and the servants have learned +by experience to obey." + +"Has your household access to your studio when you are not there?" + +"No, I securely lock the door whenever I leave the room." + +"Are you ever joined while in your studio by your wife and daughter and +their friends?" + +"Occasionally they bring Miss Grey and Senator Foster in to see my +models." + +"Did you confide the particulars of your latest invention to Mr. +Spencer?" + +"I did not." + +"Did he ever show deep interest in it?" + +"Only questioned me about it now and then," replied Whitney casually, and +Charles Miller alone noted the nervous twitching of his eyelids. + +"Was the electric light turned on in Mr. Spencer's room when you left him +for the night?" + +"Y-yes." Whitney reflected for a moment, then added, "I believe the bulb +by the bureau was burning, but I can't swear to it." + +"Did Mr. Spencer give you any inkling Tuesday night that he intended to +be an early riser on Wednesday morning?" + +"No, he never mentioned the subject." + +"Was it his custom on previous visits, to walk about your house before +the servants were up?" + +"Not that I am aware of," Whitney hesitated. "Possibly his intoxicated +condition made him desire the fresh air." + +"That is possible," admitted the coroner. "But witnesses testify that Mr. +Spencer had on no shoes." + +"Which confirms my statement of his condition," replied Whitney quietly. +"No man in his sober senses seeks the street in his stockings." + +The coroner, making no comment, held up the knife with the black bone +handle. "Have you ever seen this knife before?" + +Whitney turned a shade whiter. "I may have; there is nothing distinctive +about the knife." + +"Is it not used for modeling in clay?" + +"I believe so." + +"Who made the clay models in your studio, Mr. Whitney?" + +"I did." + +"Unassisted?" + +The question remained unanswered, and after a brief pause the +coroner pushed back his chair and rose. "That is all, thank you, Mr. +Whitney; kindly wait in the adjoining room to the left; you will +find a chair there." + +With a stiff bow Whitney stepped down from the platform and made his way +through the silent crowd to the room indicated. + +As the door closed behind him, Penfield called the deputy coroner to the +stand. Laying down his pen, Dr. North took his seat in the witness chair, +and after being sworn, turned to face the jurors, chart in hand. + +"You made the autopsy upon Mr. Sinclair Spencer?" questioned Penfield. + +"I did, Doctor, in the presence of the morgue master." + +"Please state to the jury the result of that autopsy." + +The deputy coroner glanced at the notes on the back of the chart, then +reversed it, holding it aloft so that all in the room could see the +anatomical drawing of a human figure. + +"The knife penetrated this section of the neck, just missing the carotid +artery," he began, using his pencil to indicate the spot marked on the +chart. "While the wound bled profusely it was superficial and did not +cause death." + +His words created a sensation. Men and women looked at each other, then +sat forward in their chairs, the better to view the deputy coroner and +his chart. + +"Were there indications of death from extreme alcoholism, then?" +questioned the coroner, and his voice sounded unusually loud in the deep +silence which prevailed. + +"No. Judging by the contents of the stomach Mr. Spencer had not taken +alcohol to excess." + +"Then if the knife wound was not fatal, and there was no indication of +intoxication, what caused Mr. Spencer's death?" demanded the coroner. + +"On examination," Dr. North weighed his words carefully, "I found a +powerful drug had evidently been used, producing instantaneous death by +paralyzing the respiratory center and arresting the heart action." + +All in the room were giving the deputy coroner rapt attention. Many had +come there purely from love of sensation, and they were not being +disappointed. The eyes of Charles Miller and Senator Foster met for a +second, then quickly shifted back to the deputy coroner. The reporters, +their pencils flying across the sheets, were the only ones in the room +who had not glanced at the witness. + +"Have you discovered the drug used?" questioned the coroner. + +"By tests I found it to be cyanide of potassium, a most deadly poison, +generally instantaneous in its action." + +"How large a dose was given?" + +"I don't know, as there were no indications of it in the gastric +contents." + +"Then how was the drug administered?" + +"Through the blood." + +"By means of the knife?" + +The deputy coroner looked puzzled. "Possibly," he admitted. "But I could +find no trace of the poison left on the knife blade. There was no mark +on the body to show how the poison was administered." + +"At what hour did death occur?" + +"Between three and four in the morning, judging by the condition of +the body." + +"Was there any indication, Doctor, of resistance on the part of the +deceased? Did he make an effort to defend himself." + +"No, Judging from his expression and the condition of the muscles I +should say that Mr. Spencer never knew what killed him, never knew even +that his life was threatened." + +"Were his hands opened or clenched?" + +"His right hand was clenched," acknowledged the deputy coroner. "Not, +however, for the purpose of defense, but to retain his grasp upon this--" +and drawing an envelope from his pocket he carefully shook into his open +palm a crushed and faded flower. "It is a cornflower," he explained. +"Sometimes called bachelor's button. The stem is broken short off." And +he held the flower so that all might view it. + +Senator Foster, who had followed the testimony with unflagging interest, +heard a sudden sharp intake of breath to his right, but glancing quickly +at Charles Miller he found his face expressionless. + +Penfield took the cornflower and envelope from the deputy coroner and +laid them carefully on his desk, while continuing his examination. No one +paid any attention to the lengthening shadows of the late afternoon, and +the coroner's next question was awaited with breathless interest. + +"Is cyanide of potassium used in photography?" he inquired. + +"It is." + +"That is all, Doctor, you are excused," and the deputy coroner returned +to his seat. + +The next witness was the morgue master, and his testimony simply +corroborated that of the deputy coroner. He was followed by William Banks +and John P. Wilson, respectively, both well known in the financial world +of Washington, who testified to Sinclair Spencer's standing in the +community, and stated that his financial condition precluded any +suggestion of suicide; and that to their knowledge he had no enemies. + +The lights were burning when the last named witness left the chair, but +there was no sign of weariness among the men and women in the room. +Although several consulted their watches, no one rose to go. Their +already deeply stirred interest was quickened into fever heat as, in +obedience to the coroner's summons, Kathleen Whitney took her place in +the witness chair. + +Dressed with the strict attention to detail and taste which made her one +of the conspicuous figures in the younger set, Kathleen's appearance and +beauty made instant impression upon juror and spectator alike. But her +chic veil failed to hide the pallor of her cheeks, and the unnatural +brilliancy of her eyes. Despite every effort at control, her voice shook +as she repeated the oath word for word and stated her full name and age. + +"Have you always resided in Washington?" asked the coroner. + +"Yes." + +"Were you educated in this city?" + +"Yes, except for a winter in Germany." + +"Did you take up a special study while in Germany, Miss Whitney?" + +"Yes, miniature painting--" + +"And modeling?" as she paused. + +"Oh, no, I never studied that abroad although I occasionally help my +father by modeling in clay." + +"When did you make your debut in Washington society?" + +"Last winter." + +"Did you then make Mr. Sinclair Spencer's acquaintance?" + +"No." She moved involuntarily at the mention of Spencer's name. "I +had known him previously. He was one of father's friends, and much +older than I." + +"Were you not reported engaged to him last fall?" + +Kathleen flushed at the question. "I never heard of it," she said coldly. +"I do not encourage gossip." + +"Miss Whitney." Coroner Penfield surreptitiously scanned a small note +handed him before the commencement of the inquest. The handwriting was +distinctly foreign. "Miss Whitney," repeated Penfield. "Did you not +refuse Mr. Spencer's offer of marriage on Tuesday morning?" + +For a moment Kathleen stared at him in speechless surprise. "Where did +you get that piece of information?" she demanded, recovering herself. + +"You have not answered my question, Miss Whitney," and the quiet +persistence of his manner impressed Kathleen. + +"Yes, I refused him," she admitted. + +"Did Mr. Spencer make any attempt to persuade you to reconsider +your refusal?" + +"Yes." Kathleen shot an impatient look at the coroner. "I cannot see what +my private affairs have to do with the regrettable death of Mr. +Spencer," she protested. + +Penfield ignored her remark. "Did Mr. Spencer communicate with you +Tuesday by letter or telephone?" he asked and waited, but the question +remained unanswered. To the disappointment of the reporters, he did not +repeat it, but asked instead: "Were you aware on Tuesday evening that Mr. +Spencer was spending the night at your house?" + +"No." + +"Did you see either your father or your mother that night before +retiring?" + +"No." + +"When did you last see Julie, your mother's maid?" + +"Before dinner when she came to my bedroom to help me change my dress." + +"Did she seem discontented with her situation?'" questioned the coroner. + +"No." + +"Did Julie ever evince dislike to Mr. Spencer?" + +Kathleen's hand crept to her throat and she plucked nervously at her +veil. "Julie was too respectful to discuss our family friends with +me," she said. + +"You have not answered my question, Miss Whitney," was Penfield's quick +retort, and Kathleen flushed under the rebuke. + +"Because I am aware that you are striving to make me incriminate Julie in +Mr. Spencer's death," she began heatedly. "Instead, you and the police +should make every effort to find Julie and protect her ..." + +"From what?" + +"I don't know," hopelessly. "Julie has no friends in this city, no one +whom she could turn to in trouble but me. I cannot understand her +disappearance; I fear, greatly fear, foul play." + +"Circumstantial evidence points to her having disappeared of her own +volition, Miss Whitney, to escape being charged with a heinous crime." + +"Pardon me, her disappearance is the only scrap of evidence which leads +you to think she might possibly have murdered a man whom she knew by +sight," retorted Kathleen. + +"Was it your habit to supply Julie with money?" questioned the coroner. + +"Yes, which she sent to France as her mite toward the war fund," answered +Kathleen heatedly. "I am confident Julie had nothing whatever to do with +the death of Mr. Spencer." + +"Can you tell us who did, Miss Whitney?" asked Penfield, and he saw the +terror which crept into her handsome eyes. + +"I cannot," she answered with unsteady lips. "I never awoke that night." + +"What took you downstairs at so early an hour yesterday morning?" + +"I had rung the upstairs bell for Julie, and as she did not come, I +started to go down and find her," she hesitated uncertainly. + +"Continue," directed Penfield. "Tell your story of finding Mr. Spencer's +body in your own way." + +It was some minutes before Kathleen obeyed his request. "I went to the +elevator and pushed the button," she began slowly. "I was in a hurry, and +when I heard the click which indicated the cage was there I opened the +outer mahogany door, pushed back the inner steel grille-work door, +stepped into the elevator and without looking about me, closed the doors, +and pushed the basement button. Then I turned about"--Kathleen moistened +her dry lips--"and saw--and saw--Mr. Spencer lying there--the blood"--she +closed her eyes as if to shut out the, recollection--"I think for a time +I lost my reason. I have no intelligent recollection of anything that +occurred until I found myself in bed with a trained nurse in attendance." + +As her charming voice ceased, Charles Miller, who had never taken his +eyes from her face, gently moved his chair so that Foster's figure cast +him in shadow. Never once had Kathleen glanced his way; she sat for the +most part with her eyes downcast or looking directly at the coroner. +Kathleen was visibly moved by the recital of her experiences in the +elevator, and Penfield waited an instant before questioning her further. + +"Could you tell from what floor the elevator came when you pushed your +floor button?" he asked. + +"No," was the disappointing answer. "The elevator runs practically +noiselessly, and we have no floor indicator such as you see in stores." + +"Was the electric light turned on in the elevator when you entered it?" + +"No." + +"Then how could you see Mr. Spencer so clearly?" + +"The brick elevator shaft is lighted by a skylight," answered Kathleen. +"The electric light is only needed at night." + +"Do you recognize this knife?" and Penfield held it before her as he +spoke. Kathleen's eyes did not shift their gaze, but her teeth met +sharply on her lower lip. + +"I see that it resembles one that I have," she said. + +"You still have yours?" + +"Yes, you will find it in my desk drawer at home." + +"Had you only the one knife, Miss Whitney?" + +"I may have had others," indifferently. "I do not recall; I buy my +painting and modeling supplies as I need them." + +The coroner replaced the knife without further comment. + +"You use azurea perfume, do you not?" he asked. + +"Yes." + +"What was your object in trying to rub out a blood stain on the front of +Mr. Spencer's white shirt, Miss Whitney, while you were in the elevator?" +asked Penfield. + +Kathleen looked at him dully. "Wh-what d-did you say?" she stuttered. + +For answer Penfield took from the pile of clothing on the table a white +shirt and pointed to a discoloration on its glazed surface. + +"When I first saw this shirt on Mr. Spencer it reeked of perfume," he +said sternly. "Submitted to chemical tests, I find a blood stain was +partially removed by azurea. Again I ask, what was your object in +attempting to remove the blood stain?" + +But Penfield spoke to deaf ears. Kathleen had fainted. Excitement waxed +high in the room as Kathleen was carried out by Charles Miller, the first +to reach her side, and placed in the tender care of Mrs. Whitney and the +trained nurse. Waiting only to see her brought back to consciousness by +Dr. Hall, Miller slipped back into the inquest room. Detective Mitchell +was again in the witness chair. + +"You made a thorough examination of Miss Whitney's room?" inquired +the coroner. + +"Yes, Doctor." + +"And what did you find?" + +"This torn note"--and the detective held up the pieces in each hand. + +"Read its contents aloud," ordered Penfield. + +"The Connecticut, + +"Tuesday afternoon. + +"KATHLEEN, MY DARLING: + +"I implore you to reconsider--before it is too late. Consult +your father's best interests before you reject _me_. + +"Yours, with undying affection, + + "SINCLAIR." + +Mitchell paused after reading the signature, then continued. "Here is a +sample of Mr. Spencer's handwriting, attested by his cousin, Captain +Dunbar; the handwriting of the notes is identical, sir," and he placed +the papers in Penfield's hand. Reading them carefully, the coroner passed +them along to the jury for examination. + +"Where did you find this note?" he asked Mitchell. + +"Among Miss Whitney's painting materials in her sitting-room." + +"What is that in your lap?" and the coroner pointed to a paper box. In +answer Mitchell raised the cover and displayed a bouquet of faded +cornflowers. + +"I found it in Miss Whitney's sitting-room also," he stated. In tipping +the box, the better to show its contents, a small piece of white muslin +rolled to the floor. Quickly Penfield retrieved it. "I discovered that +handkerchief secreted in the folds of Miss Whitney's blue foulard gown," +added Mitchell, as the coroner spread open the handkerchief. It was badly +mussed and its white center bore dark stains. Penfield sniffed the faint +perfume still hanging about it; then without comment handed the +handkerchief to the foreman of the jury. + +"That is all, Mitchell," announced Penfield, and as the detective +departed, he turned and addressed the jury. His summing up of the case +was quick and to the point, and at the end the jurors silently filed into +another room. It was long after seven o'clock, but no one stirred in the +room, and the silence, which none cared to break, slowly grew oppressive. +The long wait was finally terminated by the reappearance of the jury. +Coroner Penfield rose and addressed them. + +"Gentlemen of the jury," he said, "have you reached a verdict?" + +"The jury find," answered the foreman, "that Kathleen Whitney is +responsible for the death of Sinclair Spencer by poison on the morning of +Wednesday, March 24, 1915, in her family residence in the city of +Washington." + +Quickly the crowded room emptied, reporters rushing madly for motors; not +often had the district morgue housed a _cause célèbre_, and its +sensational details had to be rushed on the wire. Charles Miller, +separated from Foster by the sudden crowding of the doorways, waited to +one side for him. + +"Americans are an emotional people," commented a quiet voice at his +elbow, and turning hastily Miller recognized Baron Frederic von Fincke. +"One death more or less does not create a furore elsewhere." + +"That depends on who dies," retorted Miller. + +"True. If it should be a member of the Imperial Family"--Von Fincke's +gesture was eloquent. "To them, all give way. We others are pawns." + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +A PROPOSAL + + +The atmosphere inside the house matched the leaden skies outside in point +of gloom, and even the wood fire, crackling on the hearth, failed to +mitigate the air of restraint and cheerlessness which prevailed in the +dining-room. The rain, falling in torrents, had brought with it a +penetrating cold wind, a last reminder of winter, and Vincent, passing +noiselessly to and from the pantry with sundry savory dishes, was +grateful for the heat thrown out by the blazing logs. + +Mrs. Whitney, whose eyes were red and inflamed from constant weeping, +gave up her attempt to eat her breakfast and pushed her plate away. + +"Let me give you some hot coffee, Winslow," she suggested. "Your cup must +be stone cold, and you haven't touched your fish balls." + +Absorbed in his newspaper, Whitney did not at first heed her request, but +the pulling back of the portieres aroused him, and glancing over his +shoulder, he saw Kathleen entering the room. + +"Good morning, Dad," laying her hand for a second on his shoulder before +taking the chair Vincent pulled out. "Just a cup of coffee, mother dear, +that is all," and Kathleen unfolded her napkin. + +"You told me upstairs you would remain in bed, Kathleen." Mrs. Whitney +looked solicitously at her. "Are you prudent to tax your strength after +all you were subjected to yesterday?" + +"I couldn't stay still a moment longer." Kathleen's slender, supple +fingers played with a piece of toast. "You need not bother to conceal the +newspapers, Dad," as Whitney surreptitiously tucked the _Herald_ and the +_Post_ behind his back. "I read them up in my room." + +"My dearest, I'm sorry you did that." Whitney leaned over and clasped her +hand tenderly. "I gave orders that...." + +"Vincent is not to blame," broke in Kathleen. "I borrowed the nurse's +newspapers before she left." + +"There was no sense in your reading all this jargon," protested Whitney +warmly. "And there is no need, Kathleen, of paying attention to one word +published here. Your friends believe in you absolutely, as we do." + +"Thank you, Dad." Kathleen returned the strong pressure of his hand, and +leaning over, kissed Mrs. Whitney. "Bless both your dear loyal hearts." +Her eyes brimmed with tears, and she dashed them impatiently away. "It +was better that I should see the papers," she continued a moment later, +"and know the world's unbiased opinion." + +"Unbiased opinion in a newspaper!" Whitney laughed mirthlessly. "That and +the millennium will arrive together. Have you everything you want, +Kathleen?" + +"Yes, Dad." + +"Then you need not wait, Vincent. Now, Minna, what did you ask me a few +minutes ago?" + +"If you will have some hot coffee. Yes? Then send me your cup," and Mrs. +Whitney, taking it from Kathleen, poured out the coffee and hot milk. As +she returned the cup and saucer, she glanced carefully about the room, +but Vincent had departed to the kitchen. Satisfied on that point, she +lowered her voice to a confidential pitch. "I hear the servants are +planning to leave." + +"Who cares?" Whitney shrugged his shoulders. "There are better where they +came from." + +"Quite true," agreed Mrs. Whitney. "Then, will you give me their +wages ..." + +"Wages?" Whitney flushed with anger. "No, if the dirty dogs wish to leave +us in the lurch without notice, they will not get one cent from me." + +"They won't leave us," declared Kathleen. "At least, I am sure that +Vincent and Rosa will not go. They have been with us too long." + +"I only know what Henry told me he heard in the kitchen this morning," +explained Mrs. Whitney. + +"Oh, Henry!" exclaimed Kathleen contemptuously. "I wouldn't put any faith +in what he says; he is forever making trouble in the kitchen. He is ..." + +The violent ringing of the telephone bell interrupted her. + +"I have finished my breakfast, I'll go," volunteered Mrs. Whitney, and +she hastened into the pantry where a branch telephone had been installed +for the use of the servants. Before the swing door closed tightly, they +heard her say: "Oh, Kiametia ..." + +"What is the reason the servants are so anxious to decamp?" asked +Whitney, handing Kathleen the dish of fruit, which she declined. + +"You forget this house has become a chamber of horrors." Kathleen's voice +shook, and she paused to take a hasty swallow of hot coffee. "Possibly +the presence of the detectives makes them nervous." + +"Well, a sudden leave-taking from here will probably center the +detectives' attention upon them more than if they stayed and did +their work." + +"That is highly probable. Tell me, Dad"--Kathleen regarded Whitney +intently--"how is it that I am not in jail? Did not the coroner's jury +convict me?" + +"Their verdict read that you were responsible for Spencer's death, and as +such you are under suspicion and will be held for the Grand Jury." + +"Oh!" Kathleen shuddered slightly. + +"I had no difficulty arranging bail," continued Whitney. "The officials +themselves realize--must realize," he interjected, with bitter +force--"there is little _real_ evidence against you. The coroner's +jury--the d----fools"--the words escaped between his clenched teeth--"to +place faith in circumstantial evidence!" Whitney's clenched fist +descended on the table with a force that made the goblets ring. "My dear, +why, why did you try to whitewash Julie?" + +"Because I knew she had nothing to do with Sinclair Spencer's death." + +"You knew nothing of the sort"--with subdued violence. "You are totally +wrong. That Julie ran away is confession of complicity in the crime." + +"I don't believe Julie ran away; I do not"--meeting her father's angry +eyes steadily. "I believe she was enticed away. I tell you, Dad, if this +mystery is ever to be cleared, you must find...." + +"Captain Miller," announced Vincent, drawing back the portières from the +doorway, and Miller, emerging from the hall, advanced into the room. + +Kathleen's coffee cup descended with a clatter on its saucer as her +nerveless fingers released their hold, and placing one hand on the back +of her chair to steady herself, she rose slowly to her feet. + +"Senator Foster would like to speak to you a minute, Mr. Whitney," added +Vincent. "He is waiting at the front door, sir." + +"Certainly." Whitney shook Miller's hand cordially. "Excuse me a second, +Captain, I'll be back in a jiffy," and he followed Vincent from the room. + +Impulsively Miller stepped toward Kathleen, hands extended and eyes +alight with passionate tenderness. "My love, my dear, dear love!" + +"Stop!" Kathleen spoke in a dangerously low tone. "I must request you to +leave this house at once." + +"Kathleen!" + +"You understand the English tongue?" Her cold repellent manner caused him +to pause in uncertainty. "Or shall I translate my request into German?" + +"I will not put you to that inconvenience," he retorted hotly; then his +manner changed. "Ah, Kathleen, do not let us waste the precious seconds +bickering. Tell me what I can do for you." + +"_You_ ask me that?" Her tone was impossible to translate. + +"Yes." Miller held her gaze, his handsome eyes speaking a language all +their own. "You gave me the right, my darling, to protect you--and I +_shall_ protect you." + +Her strength suddenly deserting her, Kathleen sank down in her chair. + +"You will protect me," she echoed. "_You?_" + +Her tone stung him to the quick. "Yes--I," he said slowly. "Do you not +realize the depth of my love? I would willingly sacrifice my career, my +life for you--and count it no sacrifice." + +"Would God I could believe you!" The cry was wrung from her, and she +raised her trembling hands to brush away the blinding tears. + +Miller dropped on one knee beside her. "My dearest, my heart's desire!" +he whispered passionately, taking her hands prisoner. At his touch she +shrank back, remembrance crowding upon her. + +"Go!" she stammered. "I have kept faith; go, before I say too much." + +Before Miller could answer he heard his name called, and the sound of +rapid footsteps. With a bound he was on his feet, and pausing only +long enough to whisper "Courage, Kathleen," he joined Winslow Whitney +in the hall. + +But Kathleen was hardly conscious of his departure. With an exceedingly +bitter moan, she dropped her head upon her arms and cried as if her heart +would break. Mrs. Whitney, entering from the pantry a second later, +paused aghast, then running to Kathleen, soothed her with loving word and +hand back to some semblance of composure. + +Miller found Winslow Whitney walking rapidly up and down the hall. He +stopped at sight of the latter. "Come in the library," he said. "I've +given instructions that we are not to be interrupted," closing the door +and also pulling to the folding doors behind the portières leading to +the dining-room. "Make yourself comfortable, Captain," producing a box +of cigars. "Don't mind if I walk up and down; I think better when +moving about." + +"Same here," but Miller selected the most comfortable chair in the room +and puffed slowly at his cigar, while never taking his eyes from his +host. Neither man spoke for fully five minutes, then Whitney pulled up a +chair and sat down near his companion. + +"Have you seen Senator Foster today?" he inquired. + +"Not to talk to; but I caught a glimpse of him coming here as I entered." +Miller knocked the gathering ash from the end of his cigar. "I was with +him at the inquest yesterday." + +"I saw you both there." Whitney selected a cigar and, lighting it, sat +back. "Did Foster happen to tell you that Sinclair Spencer had in his +will made him executor of his estate?" + +"No." + +"Well, he came here today to tell me that, and also that Kathleen is +mentioned in Spencer's will as residuary legatee." + +"What!" Miller's surprise was shown in his face, which had grown +suddenly white. + +"Spencer evidently really cared for Kathleen," went on Whitney, paying no +attention to his ejaculation. "A queer fellow, Spencer; I did not give +him credit for possessing sincere feeling, except where he himself was +concerned." + +"Was Spencer wealthy?" The question shot from Miller against his will. + +"Report says so; I never inquired, myself." Whitney puffed a cloud of +smoke, and as it cleared away, turned impulsively to Miller. "I'm damned +if I like Foster's manner to me today!" he burst out. + +"Why, what happened?" Miller bent eagerly forward. + +"I only asked him to postpone probating Spencer's will," began Whitney, +laying down his cigar. + +Miller's eyes opened. "Did he agree to it?" + +"No--refused curtly." Whitney's eyes flashed. "And the manner of his +refusal--rankles," he confessed. + +"Your request was somewhat singular," commented Miller slowly. + +"Nothing singular about it," retorted Whitney. "I was thinking of +Kathleen when I made the request. Man, do you not see," and the haggard +lines in his face deepened, "the instant that will is offered for probate +its contents become public. And its publication now will but strengthen +the suspicion already centered about Kathleen, by supplying a possible +motive for Spencer's murder." + +"Suspicion cannot injure the innocent," protested Miller. + +"Oh, can't it! That's all you know about it," growled Whitney, wiping +beads of moisture from his forehead. "So much for Foster's friendship +when put to the test. I made it plain to him that my request was prompted +by my desire to shield Kathleen from further publicity." + +"I understand, Mr. Whitney," said Miller gently. + +"Yes, I believe you do," went on Whitney feverishly. "That an old friend +should be the first to go back on me; there's the sting. We are a proud +family, Miller, united in our affections." He cleared his throat of a +slight huskiness. "I would have given everything I possess to have spared +Kathleen that scene at the inquest yesterday; I never for a moment +imagined"--He straightened up.--"I am going to move heaven and earth to +clear Kathleen from this vile suspicion that she is in some way +responsible for Sinclair Spencer's death." + +"I'm with you, Mr. Whitney," Miller's voice rang out clear and strong, +carrying conviction, and a flash of hope lighted Whitney's brooding eyes. +"I love your daughter, sir, and came this morning to ask your consent to +our marriage." + +Whitney looked at him long and intently, and Miller bore the scrutiny +without flinching, his direct gaze never shifting, and his strongly +molded features set with dogged determination. + +"You make this proposal, and at this time?" asked Whitney at last. + +"Yes." Miller's hand tightened its grip on the arm of his chair. +"Clouds can be dispelled, sir; and my faith in your daughter will never +be shaken." + +Without a word Whitney extended his hand, and Miller grasped it +eagerly. "You have my consent, Captain," he said, the huskiness of his +voice more pronounced. "I cannot, of course, answer for Kathleen; I +would not force her acceptance of any man." He turned to relight his +cigar, and Miller's swift change of expression escaped him. "Tell me, +Captain," continued Whitney, tossing away the match. "What conclusions +did you draw at the inquest?" + +"I think the jury acted on inconclusive evidence," said Miller +thoughtfully. "Before rendering any verdict they should have waited to +hear Julie's testimony." + +"You have hit the nail on the head," declared Whitney. "I firmly believe, +in spite of the other servants' testimony, that Julie and Sinclair +Spencer knew each other well, and his death is the result of a +clandestine love affair with her." + +"Love may have entered into it," acknowledged Miller. "But I think there +is also another motive behind Spencer's murder, the significance of which +we have not fully grasped." + +"And that is--?" + +Miller did not answer directly. "What motive inspired Spencer to feign +drunkenness," he asked, "and when everyone was asleep, to steal over this +house like a thief in the night?" + +Whitney drummed impatiently on the desk. "There is but one apparent +answer," he admitted reluctantly. "You believe that he was interested in +my inventions?" + +"I do; his actions certainly point to that conclusion." + +Whitney shook his head. "His behavior that night would have been just the +same if planning a clandestine meeting with Julie." + +"But, my dear sir, he could have met Julie elsewhere with far less danger +of discovery. Besides," Miller hesitated, "let us give the devil his due. +Spencer was evidently very much attached to Kathleen. With her image +before him, I do not believe he spared a thought for the French maid." + +Whitney looked his disbelief. "In this instance, I cannot speak well of +the dead," he said slowly. "I know too much of Spencer's past. He was not +above courting the maid and the mistress at the same time." + +"Well, at least Spencer was no fool; if he did court Julie, it was not +done in this house." Miller tossed his cigar stub into the ash receiver. +"It might be that he used the maid to assist him in securing information +about your inventions." + +"You may be right." Whitney started from his chair. "And Julie, perhaps +believing in his protestations of affection at first, awoke to his +duplicity, and took the occasion of his spying to kill him." + +"Yes, that's about my idea." + +"But--but--" Whitney turned bewildered eyes on his companion. "What +prompted Spencer to desire to steal my inventions?" + +"That we have still to learn. That he did try, I am as convinced as if I +had seen him." Miller picked up another cigar. "And, Mr. Whitney, permit +me to call attention to one very essential fact...." + +"Go on," urged Whitney. + +"That what Spencer failed to accomplish, others may." + +"Nonsense." + +"It is very far from nonsense." Miller's earnestness impressed Whitney. +"I do not for one moment believe that Spencer was working alone." + +"You hint at conspiracy?" Whitney frowned perplexedly. + +"Call it that if you wish; only, sir, take every precaution to safeguard +your inventions from prying eyes." + +"I have, already." + +"How, for instance?" + +"With double locks, iron shutters, and electric wires, my workshop is +hermetically sealed." + +"Until a clever thief gains entrance." Miller laughed faintly. "The +science of house-breaking keeps step with modern inventions to protect +property. What one man can conceive another man can fathom." + +"You may be right." Whitney took a short turn about the room, then +stopped in front of his companion. "What precautions would you suggest?" + +Miller did not answer immediately. "It is very likely that another +attempt will be made to secure the drawings and specifications of your +inventions, if not your models," he said finally. "And if on guard, you +may not only catch the thief but Spencer's murderer." + +"A good idea," acknowledged Whitney. "But how would you suggest going +about to catch the thief?" + +"By laying a plot for him; forget to lock your studio door +occasionally, lay prepared paper inconspicuously about, and powder your +tables and floor with fine dust. The thief will leave an indelible +trail behind him." + +"And walk off with all necessary data," answered Whitney skeptically. "As +clever a thief as you paint will never leave that room, once he is inside +it, without full knowledge of my inventions." + +"The thief will not have an opportunity of stealing what he came for, +because the specifications and drawings of your inventions will not +be there." + +"Eh!" Whitney's cigar fell unheeded to the floor. "Where will they be?" + +"In my possession." + +Too astounded to speak, Whitney stared at his companion. It was over a +minute before he recovered himself. + +"Do you think I will trust you with the drawings and models of my latest +inventions?" he asked. + +"You did not withhold your consent when, a short time ago, I asked for +Kathleen's hand in marriage," said Miller slowly. "Do you hold your +inventions dearer than your daughter's future happiness, which you are +willing to intrust to my care?" + +Never taking his eyes from his companion's face Whitney stepped back. The +seconds lengthened into minutes before he spoke. "Come upstairs," he said +and, turning, made for the closed door. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +THE YELLOW STREAK + + +Leaving the War Department; Detective Mitchell debated for a second +whether to walk around the back of the White House grounds to the +Municipal Building, or to go to Pennsylvania Avenue and take an east +bound electric car. But there was no sign of let-up in the pelting rain, +and pulling his coat collar up about his ears, he hastened toward the +avenue, and at sight of an approaching car broke into a run. The usually +empty sidewalks were filled with hurrying government employees, anxious +to get their luncheon and return in the prescribed half-hour to the +State, War, and Navy Departments, and the detective had some difficulty +in dodging the pedestrians. + +Seeing an opening among the lowered umbrellas, he stepped off the curb +and dashed for the street car. He was almost by its side when the +hoarse sound of a motor siren smote his ear, and glancing sideways, he +saw a touring car bearing down upon him at full speed. In trying to +spring backward his foot slipped on the wet asphalt and he sprawled +forward on his knees. The automobile was almost upon him when strong +hands jerked him safely to one side. Scrambling to his feet, Mitchell +turned to look at the man whose strength and quickness had saved him +from a nasty accident. + +"Much obliged, Captain Miller," he said. "I owe you a great deal." + +Miller stooped over and picked up the detective's hat. "Why don't you +chaps arrest such speeders?" he inquired, pointing to the vanishing car. + +"We do in most cases," returned Mitchell, brushing the mud from his +trousers, and limping back to the sidewalk. "However, the driver of that +car is exempt." + +"Why?" + +"We can't arrest a United States Senator." + +"Ah, then you got his number." Miller led the way to the sidewalk. + +"That car doesn't need a number to identify it," grumbled Mitchell. "Its +color and shape are too distinctive. We on the force call it the 'Yellow +Streak.' The car belongs to Senator Randall Foster; when he's at the +wheel, the Lord help the pedestrians!" + +"So it would seem," dryly. "Where are you going, Mitchell?" observing +the detective's rather shaken appearance. + +"To the Municipal Building." + +"Suppose you come and lunch with me first at the Occidental," and the +smile which accompanied the invitation was very persuasive. "It's near +where you are going." + +Mitchell had not lunched, and a hurried breakfast had been consumed +before six o'clock. It was his hunger which had occasioned his haste to +reach the Municipal Building and later a near-by café. His official +business was not very pressing, and since meeting Miller at the +Whitneys' two days before, he had heard of his attentions to Kathleen +Whitney. The rumor had interested him as much as Miller's personality. +Promptly he accepted Miller's invitation, and the two men boarded the +next downtown car. + +Within a short time they were both eating an appetizing lunch in the +attractive restaurant of the Occidental. Just before the arrival of +coffee and cheese, Mitchell sat back in his chair with a sigh of physical +content. The Martini had warmed his chilled body, and the lassitude which +comes after a hearty meal was stealing over him. Miller had proved an +agreeable companion, able to talk upon any subject--except one, in spite +of the detective's hints in its direction. Their table was in one corner +apart from the others, and there was no danger of their conversation +being overheard. Taking in their isolated position at a glance, the +detective changed his tactics. + +"I saw you at the Spencer inquest," he said abruptly, applying a match to +his cigar. "What do you think of the verdict?" + +"What every sane man thinks," answered Miller. "That the prosecution will +have to secure more material and tangible proof before it can secure an +indictment by the Grand Jury." + +"I'm not so certain of that," responded the detective, ruffled by +Miller's casual manner. "Our evidence against Miss Whitney was pretty +conclusive." + +"It would have been just as conclusive if applied to any other inhabitant +of the Whitney house that night." + +"Hardly." Mitchell smiled broadly. "I fear your friendship blinds you to +the danger in which Miss Whitney stands." + +Miller refrained from answering until their waiter had served the coffee +and cheese and departed. "Circumstantial evidence will not always +convict--fortunately," he said, helping himself to the Camembert. "What +have you proved...." + +"That Spencer was Miss Whitney's rejected lover," broke in Mitchell. +"That the knife belonged to her; that she tried to remove incriminating +blood stains on his shirt with her perfumed handkerchief; and that he +held in his hand a flower, possibly broken from the bouquet which she was +wearing at the time." + +"It sounds formidable," commented Miller quietly. "But there are a number +of flaws. You have _not_ absolutely proved that the knife belonged to +Miss Whitney, only proved that it is probable she might have owned it. +Wait"--as Miller started to interrupt. "The deputy coroner testified that +Spencer was killed by cyanide of potassium." + +"Which, as Spencer did not swallow it, was administered by aid of the +knife," retorted Mitchell hastily. + +"The deputy coroner said he found no trace of the poison on the knife +blade." Miller paused to refill Mitchell's coffee cup. "Secondly, +cyanide of potassium is not a drug which Miss Whitney would be apt to +have around." + +"I saw a half-filled bottle of it in Whitney's work-shop last Wednesday." + +"Quite true, I saw it there myself," admitted Miller. "I also saw that +Whitney kept his studio workshop under lock and key." + +"To outsiders; but it is just possible he is not so strict about the +members of his household, his testimony to the contrary," argued +Mitchell. "The point is not well taken, Captain, and even if it were," he +stirred his coffee thoughtfully, "Miss Whitney did not need to enter her +father's workshop to secure the cyanide of potassium; I find she buys all +his photographic supplies at a shop not far from here, and recently +purchased a new supply of cyanide." + +"Purely circumstantial evidence," responded Miller, keeping his +expression unaltered by an effort. The detective's last statement had +startled him. "In regard to the flower which Spencer held in his hand: +you say it was probably broken from the bouquet which she wore at the +time of committing the crime--I am, for the sake of argument only, +admitting that she might be guilty. The medical evidence went to prove +that Spencer was killed between three and four in the morning; it is +straining probabilities to claim that a young girl, in donning her +wrapper, pinned on a bouquet of flowers." + +"How do you know she was not fully dressed? It was not so late in the +morning; she could have gone to bed after the crime, or she may not have +gone to bed at all." + +"All supposition," scoffed Miller. + +"Not quite all." The detective, nettled by his jeering smile, spoke +hastily. "On further inquiry I learned from one of the servants +today that Miss Whitney had on the same dress Wednesday morning, +when her screams aroused the household, which she wore at dinner the +night before." + +"Ah, indeed?" Miller's smile had ceased to be skeptical, it was strained. +"And which servant imparted that information to you?" + +"Henry, the chauffeur." + +"For a chauffeur, Henry seems to know a great deal about what transpires +inside the Whitney house," observed Miller thoughtfully. "Tell me, +Mitchell, what motive do you attribute to Miss Whitney for the killing of +Sinclair Spencer?" + +Mitchell looked uncomfortable, and it was not until Miller repeated his +question that he spoke. "I believe Spencer persuaded Miss Whitney to meet +him clandestinely that night, and threatened to compromise her if she +refused again to marry him." + +"Oh, come!" Miller spoke more roughly than he realized. "Wake up, +Mitchell; you've been reading penny dreadfuls. Try and think up a motive +which will hold water." + +The detective flushed. "That is quite motive enough," he said. "If Miss +Whitney takes the stand in her own defense she can, on that motive, enter +a plea of killing to protect her honor...." + +"And any jury in the country would acquit her," broke in Miller. "She +would...." + +"Thus escape the gallows," finished the detective. + +"But I can suggest an even better solution of the problem," put in Miller +suavely, although his fingers itched to choke his companion. + +"And that is--?" + +"That the detective force find the guilty party." + +Mitchell suppressed a smile. "And where would you suggest that we hunt +for this guilty party?" he asked. "Provided he or she is still at large, +and not out on bail under indictment." + +"Search among the men and women who spent Wednesday night at the +Whitneys', servants as well as guests." + +"Captain," in his earnestness Mitchell leaned across the table, "it is +contrary to all records of crime that a man or woman will commit murder +without motive...." + +"You forget homicidal maniacs." + +"True, but they do not belong in this category," protested Mitchell. +"No person in that house, except Miss Whitney, had a motive for +killing Spencer." + +"Motives are not always on the surface; I advise you to investigate ..." + +"Yes--?" eagerly. + +"Is it true that arc lights have been installed at the United States +navy yards and arsenals, which make them as light as day on the +darkest night?" + +"I believe so." Mitchell glanced perplexedly at his companion. Why was he +changing the conversation? + +"And that visitors are not encouraged to loiter on government +reservations?" + +"I believe such an order has been issued," conceded the detective. + +"Also visitors are forbidden at the Government Radio Station at +Arlington?" + +"Yes." + +"And still there is a leak--government secrets are secrets no longer." + +"How do you know that, Captain?" and the detective shot a look full of +suspicion at him. + +"I only know what Senator Foster has told me," carelessly. "I believe +Foster's advice has been sought in the matter." + +"And why did he confide in you?" + +"He desired my help," responded Miller. "Seemed to think my opinion might +be worth something, but, honestly, Mitchell, I can't see anything to this +secret leak business--the Secret Service operatives are putting a scare +over on the government. + +"It's more than that, sir. No more coffee," and the detective, his sudden +doubts dispelled by Miller's sunny smile, leaned back once more in his +chair. "It seems that officials here are awakening to the realization +that government secrets are being betrayed. If the American troops are +ordered to a certain point on the border, the order is known in Mexico +before it is executed. It is the same with coded communications to +Foreign Powers. The movements of our fleet are known to foreign naval +attachés even before the maneuvers are carried out. The whereabouts of +the smallest torpedo boat and submarine is no secret--to any but the +American people." + +"Is that so?" Miller looked politely incredulous. "And is the Secret +Service not investigating the matter?" + +"Sure; they'll handle it all right." Mitchell twisted about in his chair. +"At present, Captain, my entire attention is claimed by the Spencer +murder. Where would you suggest that I begin my search among Whitney's +household for a motive which will explain the murder?" + +"Why not try and find Julie, the French maid?" + +The eagerness died out of Mitchell's face. "We are trying," he said. "But +we can convict Miss Whitney without her evidence." + +"So you think Julie's testimony will implicate Miss Whitney still further +in the crime?" + +"I do. I have no doubt she is accessory after the fact, and, provided +with funds by Miss Whitney, stole away so as not to give evidence +against her." + +"You have a curious conception of human nature, Mitchell," was Miller's +only comment as he signed to their waiter to bring his check. He did not +speak again until he and the detective were in the street. "You have +overlooked a very important point, Mitchell, in your investigation of +Spencer's murder." + +"What is that?" + +"You apparently believe that Miss Whitney murdered Spencer between three +and four in the morning and then went back to her bedroom ..." + +"Go on," urged Mitchell. + +"At the inquest all witnesses testified that Miss Whitney was the first +to find Spencer and that she was in the elevator with him." Miller spoke +with impressiveness. "Even the most hardened criminal would not have +deliberately walked into that elevator and shut himself in with the man +he had murdered a short time before--and yet, you argue that a highly +strung, delicately nurtured girl did exactly that. It's preposterous!" + +"It does sound cold-blooded," admitted the detective. "It is just +possible that after committing the crime, she lost consciousness and +remained in the elevator all night...." + +"Talk sense!" ejaculated Miller disgustedly and, without waiting to hear +the detective's thanks for his luncheon, turned on his heel and hurried +up Fourteenth Street. Mitchell watched his tall, erect figure out of +sight with absorbed attention. + +"I'd give a lot to know who he suspects murdered Spencer," he muttered +under his breath, and started for the Municipal Building. + +As Miller approached his hotel, he thought he saw Foster's yellow touring +car move away from the ladies' entrance. After procuring his mail he went +at once to his room. He was about to open his letters when his eyes fell +on an open drawer of his desk. Putting down the bundle in his hand, he +carefully investigated every pigeonhole and drawer. The papers he looked +for were missing. + +Rising quickly, Miller examined the windows of his room and bathroom. +They were securely fastened on the inside. In deep thought he went out +into the hall to where the floor chambermaid and a companion were sitting +in full view of his door. + +"Have you been here long?" he asked. + +"Yes, sir," replied the elder girl. "I've been on duty here ever +since noon, and Mary," laying her hand on her companion, "was here +all the morning." + +"Has either of you seen anyone enter my bedroom?" + +"No, sir, only yourself, sir," answered the first speaker, and Mary +echoed her words. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +THE AWAKENING + + +The prospect was uninviting at any time and to Julie, who had stared at +the rows of slatternly kept backyards until she grew familiar with each +battered garbage can, the sight was hateful. The rain had driven even the +starved alley cats to cover, and with a sigh forlorn in its wretchedness, +she turned from the window and contemplated her nicely furnished bedroom. +The two days she had been there had passed on leaden feet. Captain +Miller's money had secured her a haven of refuge--food and a roof over +her head--but had deprived her of liberty and the daily newspaper. The +first had been the only restriction he had placed upon her acceptance of +his bounty. His plea--protect Kathleen--had found a ready echo in her +loyal heart, and blindly she had obeyed him. + +The first day had passed in numb resignation, then had followed the +reaction. As she recovered from bodily fatigue there came a quickening of +the blood, and in spite of the cold driving rain, a longing for the +out-of-doors possessed her. + +Since the breaking out of the great world war, with its invasion of +Belgium and her beloved France, she had become an inveterate newspaper +reader, and during the days of "extras" she had formed the habit of +depending upon them. From day to day, month to month, she had followed +the ever shifting, always fighting forces on the firing line, and her +knowledge of the situation in Europe would have shamed some of the +students of the times. Her own personal loss and agonizing sorrow had +been engulfed in her acceptance of the world's tragedy, but it had made +adamantine her desire to serve France. + +Forty-eight hours had passed and she had not seen a daily paper. She had +asked her landlady, Mrs. Robinson, for the loan of her _Star_, only to be +told that Mrs. Robinson never took it. She had thereupon presented her +with three cents and asked her to secure the morning papers. But Mrs. +Robinson, on her return from market earlier in the day, had forgotten to +comply with her request. The one servant, when appealed to in the hall, +had promised to get her an evening _Times_, but on inquiry, Mrs. Robinson +had informed her that the woman had finished her work and gone home. + +What was happening in Europe? Had the Allies attempted the drive hinted +at during the winter months? Had Italy cast her lot with the Allies? +Julie's restlessness increased as each question remained unanswered. From +whom could she get a newspaper? Mrs. Robinson had assured her that she +was the only boarder in the house, and on the one occasion on which she +had left her room, she had seen no one but the servant. The latter had +gone out, and Mrs. Robinson had not responded to her call ten minutes +before. Julie sighed again and gazed wearily out over the backyards; then +a thought came to her. Why not go to a front window and hail a newsboy; +there might be one in the vicinity? + +With brightened eyes Julie left her room and, walking down the hall, +turned the knob of the door opposite her own. It would not open. +Bethinking herself, Julie rapped timidly on the door panel; then +receiving no reply, she rapped again. No voice nor footstep responded to +the summons; apparently the room was empty. Considerably perplexed, Julie +turned and made her way to the second bedroom floor. Quickly she rapped +at each closed door and tried its knob. Each door was locked and her +repeated raps went unanswered. In the fourth floor she met with the same +results, and, returning again to the stairs, she made her way down them +almost at a run. + +The silent and apparently empty house frightened her, and it was with a +fast beating heart that she made her way to the ground floor and into +the drawing-room. Its sumptuous furnishings astounded her. Mrs. Robinson +had neither the air nor the well-dressed appearance of a woman of +wealth. From her swarthy skin and black eyes and hair Julie had taken +her for a Creole. + +The stair door leading to the basement was not locked, and Julie laid a +hesitating hand on it. Should she seek Mrs. Robinson in the kitchen? +Almost without her own volition she released her hold on the knob and +retraced her steps to the front door. She needed air; the silent house +was getting on her nerves. She suddenly remembered the noises she had +heard in the night and which, in the morning, she had attributed to her +feverish condition. + +Noiselessly she removed the night latch and slipped into the vestibule. +She stood for a moment filling her lungs with the cold refreshing air, +then bethinking herself, stepped behind the closed section of the outer +door. She must not be seen by a chance policeman. As she stepped back her +foot encountered a small bundle, and she looked down. Joy of joys I It +was a folded newspaper. As she opened it she saw in the dim light of dusk +the red letter stamping: "Subscriber's copy." What had Mrs. Robinson +meant by telling her she did not take newspapers? + +Not pausing to worry further over that problem, she hastily scanned the +first page of the five-thirty edition of the _Times_; and her eyes +dilated as she read the scare headings: + +SPENCER'S WILL OFFERED FOR PROBATE + +KATHLEEN WHITNEY, CONVICTED BY CORONER'S JURY, IS RESIDUARY LEGATEE OF +MURDERED CLUBMAN + +SOCIETY GIRL OUT ON BAIL FURNISHED BY SENATOR FOSTER + +Too stunned to move or cry out, Julie stared dumbly at the newspaper. +Kathleen Whitney, her kind friend rather than employer, was +convicted--then her absence had not benefited her? Captain Miller's +advice had been wrong. Her faith in him was misplaced. To what had he +brought her? She cast a terrified look at the partly closed door behind +her. Better jail than--The thought of jail brought her whirling senses +back to Kathleen. But Kathleen was not in jail; the paper stated that she +was out on bail. If at home, she could be reached. + +Utterly regardless of her hatless condition, she dragged the shawl, +previously borrowed from Mrs. Robinson, over her head, and closing the +front door, bolted up the street, the newspaper still clutched in her +hand. Darkness was closing in, and the rain had driven the few +pedestrians usually in that location scurrying to their homes. Julie was +five or more blocks from the Robinson house when she saw a yellow touring +car draw up to the opposite curb and a man spring out. He paused for a +second to examine one of the lamps and its light threw his face in bold +relief against the darkness. It was Henry, the chauffeur. Julie shrank +back behind a tree-box, muffling her face in the friendly shawl. But the +precaution was unnecessary, for Henry did not glance toward her as he +hastened around the touring car and entered a near-by house. + +For some seconds Julie stood peering doubtfully in the direction he had +gone. Why was Henry driving a car other than the Whitneys'? Had they, by +chance, discharged him? Or was he up to some particular deviltry? Her +latent distrust of Henry and her suspicions as to his nationality surged +uppermost, and not waiting to count the cost, she darted across the +street and peered into the empty touring car. Opening the door, Julie +climbed into the tonneau and, seating herself on the floor, pulled the +heavy laprobe over her. Thus protected, she sat in the darkened interior +of the car for what seemed an interminable time. The slam of a door and +the sound of approaching footsteps caused her to half rise and peep +through the storm window. At sight of Henry standing by the bonnet +lighting his pipe she sank hastily back and secreted herself under the +laprobe. His pipe drawing to his satisfaction, Henry, with barely a +backward glance into the dark tonneau, stowed himself behind the steering +wheel and started the car up the street. + +Baron Frederic von Fincke looked from his bank book to his companion, a +pleasant-featured, gray-haired man. "The balance is low," he said. + +"I come with unlimited financial credit," and the short, stockily built +man drew from an inside pocket a leather cardcase and passed it to the +Baron, who read its contents carefully before returning it. + +"I am glad you have arrived, Hartzmann," he volunteered. "As a diplomatic +center Washington is dull. I call at the State Department--no news; it is +not in touch with secret history." + +"My dear Baron, what can you expect?" Hartzmann shrugged his shoulders +amusedly. "Trained diplomats do not confide state secrets to a premier +who derives his income from a newspaper and the lecture platform." + +"True. Diplomat and politician are synonymous in America; oil and water +would sooner mix in the Old World." Von Fincke carefully replaced his +bank book in a dispatch-box. "Your friend, Captain von Mueller, has won +many friends during his sojourn in Washington." + +"A brilliant man; he will go far." Hartzmann rubbed his hands with +satisfaction. "His work in England will not be forgotten. He has courage, +and the instinct of the hunter; he never blunders." + +"High praise," said von Fincke. "I am the more glad to hear it because I +have intrusted a most delicate mission to him--the securing of Whitney's +_latest_ invention"--with peculiar meaning. "My other efforts in that +line having proved failures." Quickly he forestalled the question he saw +coming, "And your plan of campaign, Hartzmann, what of it?" + +"First, let me give you this," taking several papers from his vest +pocket. "It is a list of factories throughout the United States supplying +munitions of war to the Allies. You may find it useful." + +"Thanks." Von Fincke read the paper with minute care before placing it +inside his dispatch-box. "A concerted movement has been commenced by us +to secure a majority control of many of these plants." + +"In several instances it is planned to buy the great gun and munition +factories outright," explained Hartzmann. "Our agents are already trying +to engage the output of munitions until 1916, so that even if the United +States requires powder and high explosives, it will be impossible to +supply the Government." + +"Anything, anything to stop the supply going to the Allies." Von Fincke +emphasized his words with a characteristic gesture. + +"Our work is already telling." Hartzmann carefully replaced several +papers in an inside pocket. "In Russia, the men of the first Russian +reserve have to wait before engaging the enemy until the Russian soldiers +in the outer trenches are _dead_ so as to get their guns and ammunition +to fight with." + +"Excellent!" and von Fincke beamed with pleasure. + +"I shall instigate strikes in the munitions factories," continued +Hartzmann. "Tell me, how have you succeeded with the passports?" + +Von Fincke's expression changed. "Not so well as I hoped. The Secret +Service are active in investigating all that are issued. It is difficult +to circulate them under such espionage." + +"It is risky," agreed Hartzmann. "Our agents have opened headquarters in +New York. We hope to destroy by means of fire bombs British ships +clearing from American ports." + +"If that is accomplished, it will lend material aid to our war zone +policy," exulted von Fincke. + +"And later on we hope to establish the American seaports as bases for a +fleet of naval auxiliaries, loaded with supplies for our swift submarines +and cruisers. I am making arrangements for taking care of the necessary +clearance papers." + +"Excellent!" ejaculated von Fincke for the second time, and opened a +notebook which he took from his dispatch-box. "Our reservists in this +country report regularly. Under the guise of rifle clubs they keep +themselves in excellent practice. Bodies of them are unobtrusively +seeking employment along the Canadian border." + +"Well done; it is a wise move." Hartzmann helped himself to a cigar. +"What about this Spencer mystery, Baron? As our agent in Mexican affairs +he received a small fortune. Does not his death come at a most +unfortunate moment?" + +Von Fincke pursed up his lips. "No. Spencer was a good tool, but +sometimes too inquisitive; however, I shall not be sorry if Miss Whitney +receives the full penalty for her crime." The two men regarded each other +in silence for a brief second, then von Fincke added: "From reports which +have reached me, I judge the mine is well laid, and Mexico will yet prove +troublesome to her northern neighbor." + +"And useful to us," mused Hartzmann. "The United States when angry with +Germany will make war--on Mexico." + +"Perhaps," skeptically, "but to me it appears intervention in Mexico will +hang fire until ..." + +"Engineered," Hartzmann smiled meaningly. "Huerta will leave shortly for +the Panama-Pacific Exposition, and then ..." Not completing his sentence, +he pointed to a paragraph near the bottom of the first page of the +_Times_ which lay spread on the table by him. "The Sisters in Unity, I +see, is a strictly neutral organization for peace at any price." + +"The dear ladies!" Mockingly von Fincke's hand rose in salute. "They are +the best propagandists in the country, and Senator Foster proves an able +advocate of peace--when urged by a woman." + +"He is a clever speaker," agreed Hartzmann. + +"Most men in public life have their uses. Have you nothing to report of +the pernicious activities of the United States Government?" + +Without replying von Fincke pressed the button of his electric bell. "Is +Heinrich here?" he asked a moment later as his servant entered. + +"Yes, Baron." + +"Then show him in." Von Fincke turned back to his guest. "A clever man, +Heinrich, and useful. Come in," as a discreet tap sounded on the door; +and the chauffeur, carefully closing the door, saluted. "Any news of the +Atlantic fleet, Heinrich?" + +"Its departure for the Panama-Pacific Exposition at San Francisco via the +Panama Canal has been indefinitely postponed." + +"The Department must have awakened to the fact that if sent there the +fleet would have to return by rail," growled von Fincke. "There is not +enough coal in California at present to supply the fleet--the battleships +and cruisers could not escape from attack, but might even be captured at +the dock." + +"Have you learned where the fleet will be sent?" asked Hartzmann, +watching the chauffeur narrowly. + +"It is to go to New York for a grand review, Herr Captain." + +"Ah, a mobilization?" + +"No, Herr Captain; I think not. The reserve fleet will be missing." + +"Will the President review the fleet?" + +"It is so believed, Herr Captain." + +Von Fincke, who had been silently eyeing his companions, stood up. +"Would that not give us an opportunity to bottle up the fleet in the +North River by slipping down one of our biggest ocean steamers and +sinking her in the channel?" + +"It might be done," but Hartzmann looked doubtful. "The Harbor Police of +New York are vigilant. I fear the warping of a great steamer from her +berth would attract instant attention." + +"Not if properly engineered, Hartzmann." A soft tap at the door +interrupted von Fincke. "Come in," he called. + +"Captain von Mueller," announced the valet, and von Fincke advanced +eagerly to meet the newcomer. + +"Welcome, Herr Captain. I hoped that you would get my note in time." + +"I found it on my return to the hotel. Hartzmann, well met." Von Mueller +returned the older man's firm clasp. "It is some years...." + +"Years? What are they when old friends foregather," exclaimed Hartzmann. +"Let us sit and talk." + +"Wait, wait," remonstrated von Fincke. "Heinrich," turning to the +chauffeur, who stood respectfully waiting, "did you learn the strength of +the fleet?" + +"Of the thirty-five United States battleships, only twenty-one are in +commission and ready for emergency," he said. "Of these twenty-one three +have broken shafts, and the fourth is a turbine engine battleship, which +needs overhauling." + +"Is this all the fighting strength of the United States navy?" questioned +Hartzmann, jotting down the figures in a notebook. + +"No, Herr Captain; there are seventy fighting craft; but not in +commission and all require overhauling. Half of the submarines will +not--er--'sub,' so to speak." A ghost of a smile crossed Heinrich's lips. +"The complement of torpedo vessels has been reduced from fifteen to +twenty-five per cent, and the Atlantic Fleet needs five thousand men." + +"Interesting data," said von Mueller. "I congratulate you, Heinrich. What +of the army?" + +"Nothing definite to report today, Herr Captain. If rumor speaks truly, +discontent will shortly reduce the standing army to a man and a mule." + +"A mule can fight on occasions," laughed von Mueller. + +"But not against trained men, backed up by field guns firing in one hour +two hundred thousand shells carrying high explosives," boasted Hartzmann +triumphantly. "Weapons such as these, von Mueller, alter the face of +nature as well as the fate of nations." + +"Any further news tonight, Heinrich?" asked von Fincke. + +"No, Baron." The chauffeur saluted. "Any orders?" + +"A moment," broke in von Mueller. "I will be at the Whitney residence +tonight, Heinrich; see that I am admitted," he added, observing the +slight change in the chauffeur's expression. + +"It can be arranged, Herr Captain," hastily. "I was but thinking of +Julie--the French she-devil. Should she come ..." + +"She will not return." Von Mueller spoke with confidence. "I have +convinced her that she will better protect Miss Whitney by remaining in +hiding, thus directing attention to herself as the criminal." + +"But will she not read the papers?" touching the _Times_. + +"No; the landlady will keep them from her." + +"The police are ransacking the town for her," persisted Heinrich. + +"They will not find Julie"--von Mueller lowered his voice. "They never +investigate Robinson's." + +"So!" Von Fincke elevated his eyebrows, and his smile was not pleasant. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +THE FINGER PRINT + + +Kathleen Whitney breathed inward thanks when dinner was over. It had been +a trying ordeal on top of an agonizing day. Cloistered in her room with +only her sad thoughts for company, she had been relieved to find that +Miss Kiametia Grey had been prevailed upon by Mrs. Whitney to prolong her +afternoon visit to include a family dinner. But the spinster's endeavor +to divert her by relating society gossip finally palled, and! she +permitted her thoughts to stray to other scenes. + +"Did you receive your invitation to the Morton reception, Kathleen?" +asked Miss Kiametia, breaking off her conversation with Mrs. Whitney with +her customary abruptness, and startling Kathleen back to the present. + +"Yes--no; I don't know," was her confused reply. + +"It is here." Mrs. Whitney went into the library and returned with a +large envelope. + +"What night?" Miss Kiametia took the card and examined its heavily +embossed surface with interest. "_Nouveau riche_ stamped all over it, as +well as R.S.V.P.--'Real Slick Vittles, People,'" and she laughed +disdainfully. + +"A11 the trimmings." Mrs. Whitney replaced the card in its envelope. "I +have written our regrets. I understand the reception is given to announce +the engagement of Mona Morton to some South American Monte Cristo." + +"Speaking of engagements," Whitney turned to the spinster, "what about +you and Randall Foster, Kiametia?" + +"I shall never marry." Miss Kiametia's half bantering tone dropped, and +the eyes she turned to Kathleen were shadowed with a haunting regret. +"The habits of a life-time cannot be broken." + +"Oh, Kiametia!" exclaimed Mrs. Whitney in open disappointment. "Senator +Foster is splendid--and I had hoped--_why_ do you discourage his +attentions?" + +"Can't stand the way he wears his hair," announced Miss Kiametia with an +air of finality which warned against further discussion. + +"Marry him and make him change his barber," advised Whitney rising. "I +have to go out, Minna; you and Kathleen must not wait up for me. Good +night, Kiametia; Henry is downstairs, he can take you home in the car, +if you wish. See you tomorrow," and he moved toward the door. After a +brief hesitation Kathleen followed him into the hall. + +"Must you go out, Dad?" she asked helping him with his overcoat. "It is +still stormy tonight, and I feel lonely"--her voice broke, and turning +Whitney impulsively took her in his arms. + +"My darling little girl." He stopped and steadied his voice as he kissed +her tenderly. "There, don't worry, trust old Dad to put things +straight--as he did your broken dollies. Go early to bed, dear, and get +some rest." + +"Rest!" Kathleen strove to suppress all trace of bitterness. "Now, don't +have me on your mind; come home early," and she returned his kiss and +went slowly back into the drawing-room, as the front door closed after +her father. + +"We are going up to my boudoir, Kathleen; won't you come, dear?" asked +Mrs. Whitney. + +"Not just now, mother; I want to talk to Vincent when he gets the table +cleared away." + +"I envy you, Vincent," chimed in Miss Kiametia. "Such an excellent +servant. Oh, Minna, don't go to the elevator; suppose we walk upstairs." + +Left by herself Kathleen went in search of Vincent. He was not in the +pantry, but judging by the still unwashed dishes that he was probably +eating his supper in the kitchen, she refrained from calling him +upstairs, and walked listlessly back into the drawing-room. + +Sick at heart, utterly discouraged, she threw herself down on the large +sofa and sank back among the pillows. Throughout the long day she had +tried to banish all thought of Charles Miller. It was hopeless; his image +was in her heart as well as before her mental vision. To some women it is +given to love lightly, tasting but the essence, while to others love is a +lifetime of steadfast devotion. And that winter had brought to Kathleen +her one great passion; for weal or for woe she had given her heart to +Charles Miller, and she must drain the cup to the bitter dregs. + +With the gradual awakening to the belief that Charles Miller was really a +blackguard, a--she shuddered, and raised her hands as if to ward off an +overwhelming horror. And he had dared to approach her that morning with +loving words on his lips. His eyes had met hers frankly--there had been +no effort to avoid, no show of fear--no, he was only facing a loyal +woman. Kathleen choked back a moan. Truly, he understood the art of +dissimulation. If she had not known of his duplicity, of his guilt, his +expression as he addressed her that morning would have proclaimed him +innocent of all wrongdoing. His expression, ah, it had been that which +had sowed a little seed of hope in her heart. Perhaps she could sketch +his face as he appeared that morning, again catch the expression that +inspired confidence in spite of all. + +She sat bolt upright and glanced eagerly about for a scrap of paper and a +pencil. The white back of a magazine on a lamp table caught her eye and +she went toward it. By the lamp lay Miss Kiametia's gold mesh purse, +vanity box, and pencil. Kathleen snatched up the dangling baubles and the +magazine and returned to the sofa. If only she could get her impression +down on paper before remembrance faded! She could copy it at her leisure. +She jerked feverishly at the gold pencil, and as she pulled it out laid +its point on the white paper--and then sat petrified. It was a hypodermic +needle. Some seconds passed before she moved; then she raised the gold +cylinder--outwardly it resembled a pencil, inside were concealed the +syringe and needle. With anxious haste she manipulated its delicate +mechanism, and slipped back the needle to its hiding place. + +Forgotten for the moment was her own problem. Brilliant, gifted Kiametia +Grey a drug fiend--Oh, the pity of it! In the light of her discovery +Kathleen remembered many idiosyncrasies which the drug habit would +explain; often that winter she had found Miss Kiametia dozing in her +chair at the theater, at dinners, in motors, but had put it down to +over-fatigue from too much social gayety. Miss Kiametia's variable likes +and dislikes, her sudden whims and fancies, her irritability--all were +traceable to the same cause. + +The sound of her name caused Kathleen to raise her head with a start. +Henry, the chauffeur, was standing just inside the hall door. + +"Beg pardon, Miss Kathleen," he said. "Mrs. Whitney wished me to tell you +that Miss Grey will spend the night here and has retired to her bedroom. +And I was to ask you if you had any orders for the motor tomorrow." + +"No, none, thanks. As you go downstairs, tell Vincent that I wish +to see him." + +"Vincent has gone, Miss Kathleen." Meeting her quick glance, he added, +"It is his evening out." + +"Oh! Please ask Rosa to stop in my room before she goes to bed." + +"Very good, Miss Kathleen." As he turned to leave, the loud buzz of the +front doorbell sounded. Not waiting to hear the directions Kathleen +called after him, Henry darted into the hall. + +Picking up Miss Kiametia's gold purse and the hypodermic needle, Kathleen +replaced them on the table, but halfway to the hall door she hesitated. +Should she not take them to Miss Kiametia? Suppose Henry, for instance, +should take it into his head to examine them? At the thought Kathleen's +face hardened, and she returned to pick up Miss Kiametia's property. +Henry's voice from the doorway arrested her. + +"Captain Miller," he announced, and retired. + +Kathleen stood as if carved from stone, every vestige of color +stricken from her. If her life had depended upon it, she could not +have turned around. + +"Have you no word for me?" asked the familiar voice, and Miller stepped +in front of her, his wistful eyes pleading for him. But Kathleen was +mute. Slowly, unwillingly his eyes dropped before her level gaze and +rested finally on the gold baubles in her hand. "Why do you not wear my +ring, Kathleen?" + +The question stung her out of the bewildered trance into which his +unexpected appearance had thrown her. + +"The ring was returned to you for good and sufficient reasons," she said +icily. "That you choose to ignore these reasons does not affect the +issue. Will you leave this house, or shall I ring for the servant?" + +"Kathleen, are you mad?" He whitened to the lips. "Think what you are to +me, dearly beloved; your words cut me like a knife." + +"Your similes are unfortunate," she stammered, with dry lips. "I do not +use knives. I leave that for others, the coroner's jury to the contrary." + +"Do you think the coroner's jury influenced my judgment, sweetheart? +Shame--I have more faith than you. I know that you are innocent of +Spencer's death." + +"You have every reason to know that I am innocent." Kathleen was +thoroughly roused. "It is not a question of faith on your part," +significantly. "I see no use in these discussions. It is better that we +do not meet. Again I ask you to go--forever." + +Without replying he turned and paced the room rapidly, hands in pocket, +head bent forward. Kathleen watched him with burning eyes and aching +heart. To outward seeming he had the attributes which make for success. +What mad blood-lust had made him throw the world away? + +"Suppose I accede to your unreasonable request, Kathleen," he said, +stopping before her. "Will you do something for me?" + +"Yes," huskily. + +"Then get from your father the specifications and drawings of his latest +invention for me." + +As if she had not heard aright, Kathleen stared at him. + +"Wh-what is it you ask?" she stammered. + +"The plans of your father's _latest_ invention," patiently. "I do not +mean the camera." + +"Either you or I are mad," she looked at him dazedly. "Do you realize +that my father would not give me those plans--that I should have to +steal them." + +"Expediency knows no law," he muttered, not meeting her eyes. "Call it +borrowing." Kathleen shrank back appalled. + +"Good God! That you should be so base!" she cried. "For more than +forty-eight hours I have closed my eyes to reason; deluded myself that +you acted from temporary mental aberration--that Sinclair Spencer's death +was unpremeditated. My impulse was to help--to save. Ah, you wooed me +well this winter." Her voice broke and she drew a long quivering breath. +"It is a pitiful thing to kill a woman's love. Some day, perhaps, I shall +be grateful to you. Go!" + +He flinched at the scorn in her voice, but stood his ground +doggedly. "Not until I get the drawings and specifications of the +invention," he answered. + +The slamming of the front door caused Kathleen to look in that +direction, and Henry's entrance the next instant stayed the words on her +parted lips. + +"A special delivery for you, Miss Kathleen," he said, "from the State +Department." + +Kathleen took the proffered envelope mechanically. + +"Wait, Henry," steadying her voice. "When Captain Miller calls again, he +is not to be admitted, under any pretense." + +"Very good, Miss Kathleen," and concealing his curiosity, the chauffeur +moved swiftly away. + +There was a pause which Miller broke. "Read your letter," he said +composedly. "I can wait." + +Kathleen was on the point of collapse; desperately she clung to her +remnant of composure. Hardly conscious of her action, she tore open the +outer envelope, and read the brief statement that the letter inclosed had +been sent to her, care of the Department of State. With some stirring of +curiosity not unmixed with dread, she examined the contents of the second +envelope. It read: + +"United Service Club, + +"London, England. + +"MY DEAR MISS WHITNEY: + +"I send the inclosed, forwarded to me by Major Seymour, who was until +recently a prisoner in Germany. My nephew, John Hargraves, was killed in +action. + +"Very truly yours, + +"Percival Hargraves." + +John dead! Her loyal friend dead--and killed in action! Through a blur of +tears Kathleen read the stained scrap of paper inclosed in the +Englishman's note: + +"DEAR KATHLEEN: + +"I saw Karl in London at Victoria Station. I swear it was he--warn +Uncle--Kathleen ... Kathleen...." + +Shaken with grief Kathleen raised her head and looked at her companion +sitting immovable in his chair. If he felt any interest in the letter +and her emotion, he did not evince it. Three years before, he, she, and +John Hargraves had been friends in Germany. John, the soul of honor, +loyal and unselfish in his friendship, had laid down his young life for +his country. His last dying word had been of her--to warn her.... +Kathleen stood erect, wrath drying the tears which affection had +brought. John had seen Karl in London in war times; there was but one +answer to the puzzle. + +"Captain Karl von Mueller," she said cuttingly, "to use the name by which +I knew you abroad, do you wish my father's invention for Germany?" + +"I do." Rising quietly, he faced her, stern and unyielding. "Why +dissemble any longer? Your father promised to sell it to us; then went +back on his given word. In handing me the invention you will but redeem +his pledge." + +"You have a strange conception of honor." Her eyes were blazing with +fury. "Your statement about my father is open to doubt. Captain von +Mueller, I give you forty-eight hours to leave this country before I +denounce you as a German spy." + +"Really?" His slow smile of unbelief caused her to writhe inwardly. "Do +you think the unsupported statement of a woman suspected of murder will +find credence?" Kathleen clenched John Hargraves' letter until her +knuckles shone white under the taut skin. "Secondly," he continued in the +same quiet tone, "you speak tonight only of this winter. Have you +forgotten our relationship in Germany?" + +"That is hardly the term for it," she said proudly. "I met you at the +house of a German schoolmate ..." + +"And our friendship rapidly ripened into love," he said softly, never +removing his gaze from her bloodless face. "Our walks in the meadows +about Berlin, our elopement ..." + +"But not our marriage," she burst in. "John Hargraves can testify that I +left you." + +"John Hargraves is dead." + +"True," she could hardly articulate. "But we were not married." + +"Quite so; that is my point--_I_ did not _marry_ you." + +Kathleen swayed upon her feet and threw out her hand blindly for support. +"You cur! you despicable cur!" she gasped. "Don't touch me." But though +she shrank from him, his strong hand steadied her toward the hall door. + +"Washington society is surfeited with scandal," he said. "When more +composed think of your father's latest invention." + +If she heard him she gave no sign. Mental torture had exhausted her +emotion. She never raised her head as he guided her to the staircase; her +eyes stared only at his open right hand. + +The house was dark except for the hall light burning dimly, when Winslow +Whitney inserted his latchkey and entered the front door. Removing hat +and overcoat, he made his way noiselessly to his studio in the attic. +With cautious movement he fingered the locks on his door. Would Miller's +plan for catching Spencer's murderer work out? According to their +arrangement he had left the door insecurely fastened. + +Just as he was about to creep into the room, he heard distinctly in the +stillness a whispered word in a voice his keen ear instantly recognized. +All idea of caution forgotten, he threw open the door and switched on the +electric light. To outward appearances the room was empty. + +Darting over to where he kept his secret papers, he lifted a powerful +Mazda lamp, the better to scan the prepared paper left where an +incautious thief would be obliged to rest his hand with some degree of +force. Under the powerful light the finger prints stood out distinct and +clear. But with eyes starting from his head, Whitney paused to snatch up +a magnifying glass, and by its aid examined the finger prints minutely. + +"It's--his--finger print--but the voice, my God! the voice.... Kathleen, +Kathleen!" A gurgle choked his utterance, and the magnifying glass +clattered beside him as he fell inertly on the floor. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +"TRENTON HURRY" + + +Charles Miller, completing a hurried toilet, paused at the sound of a +sharp rap on his bedroom door. + +"Come in," he called. "Ah, Henry, good morning," as the chauffeur stepped +briskly over the threshold. The latter's white face and agitated manner +indicated that he was the bearer of portentous news. Miller made a hasty +step in his direction. + +"Kathleen--is she ill?" he asked. + +The chauffeur looked to see that the bedroom door was securely fastened +before he answered. + +"It isn't Miss Kathleen," he answered cautiously. "Mr. Whitney has had +a stroke." + +"What?" Miller recoiled. "When?" + +"Some time last night." + +"Will he recover?" + +"Dr. McLane says that he cannot tell yet, Herr Captain. He was alive but +still unconscious when I left the house to come here." + +"What"--Miller looked anxiously at the chauffeur--"what brought on the +stroke? Mr. Whitney appeared to be in robust health when I saw him last." + +"The Doctor seemed to think it was caused by sudden shock, Herr Captain." +Henry stepped closer. "Miss Kiametia Grey found Mr. Whitney in his studio +lying on the floor unconscious." + +"Miss Grey found him!" Miller's eyes opened wide in astonishment. + +"Yes, Herr Captain; at four o'clock in the morning," with significant +emphasis, and the two men looked at each other. + +"And what was Miss Grey doing in the attic at that hour of the morning?" + +"She said she had gone upstairs to see Rosa, the cook, who was suffering +from a bilious attack early in the evening." + +"But," perplexedly, "if I remember correctly, Rosa testified at the +inquest that the servants' bedrooms are not in the attic but on the +floor beneath." + +"They are, Herr Captain. On answering the bell from Mr. Whitney's studio +I found Miss Grey there trying to revive him." + +"You answered the bell at four in the morning?" in surprise. "I +understood you did not sleep at the Whitneys'." + +"Nor do I, Herr Captain; but last night I took Vincent's place and +occupied his bedroom. When I reached the studio, I at first thought Mr. +Whitney dead," continued the chauffeur, after a slight pause, "and rushed +to summon a physician. On his arrival I assisted him to carry Mr. Whitney +to his bedroom." + +"Did you see Miss Kathleen?" + +"Not after giving her the special delivery letter"--Henry's sidelong +glance escaped Miller's attention--"when you were with her in the +drawing-room; but I did hear her talking to Mrs. Whitney and the nurse in +her father's bedroom just before I left the house to come here." + +"Keep me informed of what transpires at the Whitneys'," directed Miller, +picking up his coat. + +"Very well, Herr Captain. Permit me to help you." The chauffeur stepped +closer to his side and while assisting him, whispered: "Did you get the +invention?" + +Miller thrust his right arm into the coat sleeve with slow precision, and +his left arm into its sleeve with equal care before answering. + +"Yes." + +"God be praised!" Henry stepped back, his eyes snapping with delight. +"Ah, we will win it yet, that Cross!" he exulted; then cautiously took +from an inside pocket a folded sheet of letter paper and with care +removed from between the pages a piece of paper. "When Miss Grey was +occupied in her effort to revive Mr. Whitney I looked quickly about the +studio," he explained. "This paper caught my eye--and I bring it to you, +Herr Captain." + +"Thanks," laconically, laying the paper down on the desk. "One moment +before you go," and from a well-filled wallet he extracted a treasury +bill whose denomination caused Henry's eyes to beam with pleasure. + +"At service, Herr Captain," he said, saluting. "I will return and +report later." + +"Very well, Henry," and the chauffeur bowed himself out, but on the other +side of the door he hesitated, fingering Miller's tip with satisfaction. + +"He is liberal, that von Mueller," he muttered. "But it is just as well +not to tell him that there were two sheets of finger prints," and he went +whistling down the corridor. + +Tiptoeing to his door, Miller listened for a second, then, convinced that +the chauffeur had moved away, he turned the key in the lock. Going to his +desk, he picked up the sheet of finger prints and studied them long and +attentively; then glanced down at his right hand. Horror lurked in the +depths of his frank eyes. + +"The mark of Cain," he stammered, and opening the silver frame containing +Kathleen Whitney's photograph, he deftly slipped the paper between the +two pieces of cardboard. + + * * * * * + +It was getting toward dusk when Mrs. Whitney stole softly into Kathleen's +bedroom and stood looking down at her as she lay, eyes closed, white face +pillowed on one shapely arm, her breath hardly stirring the laces on her +gown. Convinced that she was asleep, she moved cautiously away, hoping +not to disturb her, but at that moment Kathleen opened her eyes and +raised herself on her elbow. + +"Don't go, dear," she begged. "How is Dad?" + +"Just about the same." Mrs. Whitney carried a chair to the bedside. "It +is too bad to have roused you." + +"I wasn't asleep--only thinking"--drearily--"I am glad you came in. Does +Dr. McLane hold out any hope?" + +"Yes," and Mrs. Whitney's care-worn face brightened. "Is it not +good news?" + +"The very best," Kathleen smiled through her tears. "You must be worn +out," and she stroked the hand on the bed with loving fingers. "You +should take some rest." + +"I am not tired," protested Mrs. Whitney. "The nurse has just come in +from her afternoon constitutional, and I felt that I could leave Winslow +for a little time. Tell me, dear," sinking her voice. "Can you let me +have a hundred dollars?" + +"I would gladly, mother, but I don't believe I have half that amount +left. You are welcome to that, though; my purse is in my desk." + +"Thank you, dear, I'll get it later," but the troubled shadow did not +lift from Mrs. Whitney's pretty face. "Both Vincent and Henry have asked +me for their wages; I have given Henry part ..." + +"Give him the whole, only get rid of him," burst out Kathleen. "I cannot +bear the man." + +"Why, Kathleen! Has he been disrespectful?" + +"N-no, only--I don't trust him." + +"Please, dear, don't excite yourself." Mrs. Whitney noticed with alarm +the hectic flush that dyed Kathleen's white cheeks. "I will fill his +place. Come to think of it, I did not like his manner this morning when +he asked for his wages, and he went out without leave ..." + +"He selected a curious time to make his request, with Dad so ill." + +"Well, you see, my dear," coloring faintly. "I gathered your father has +not paid him recently." + +"Don't believe that story until you have asked Dad." Kathleen choked back +a sob, remembering that her father, her dear father, might never answer +another question, no matter how trivial. "Don't look so worried, mother; +Dad will get better shortly." + +"I pray so." Mrs. Whitney's eyelashes were wet with tears. "Kathleen, did +your father ever speak to you of a note for twenty thousand dollars?" + +"No, never." + +"It comes due next week." Mrs. Whitney looked hopelessly about the room. + +"Surely the bank will hold over the matter until Dad is in a condition to +attend to his affairs?" + +"I sent word to that effect when answering the note teller's letter." + +"Who is the holder of the note?" + +"Sinclair Spencer." With ashy face Kathleen dropped back on her pillow as +if shot. Failing to observe her expression in the semi-dark room, Mrs. +Whitney continued wearily: "In your father's mail today I found a notice +from his bank stating that he had overdrawn his account heavily. It just +happens that my housekeeping allowance is almost exhausted, or I would +never have mentioned the matter to you, Kathleen." + +"I am glad you did, mother; you must not have this responsibility on your +shoulders, in addition to your anxiety for Dad. I have a little money in +the bank, and will turn it over to you tomorrow." + +"Thank you, dear," stooping and kissing her. "My heart is wrung for you, +Kathleen. It is shameful what you have had to go through!" and her eyes +flashed with indignation. + +"Hush!" placing her hand over Mrs. Whitney's mouth. "My affairs sink into +insignificance alongside of Dad's illness." + +"You are such a blessing, Kathleen," squeezing her hand fondly. + +"Then let us forget there is such a thing as money difficulties, and +turn to...." + +"Me!" exclaimed a voice by the door, and Miss Kiametia Grey advanced +further into the room. "I rapped several times but you did not hear...." + +"Do come and sit with us," suggested Kathleen. + +"I will, if you will turn on the light; I can't bear to talk in the dark. +There, that's better," as Kathleen switched on the reading lamp by her +bed. "Before anything further is said," began the spinster, reddening, "I +must confess that I overheard Kathleen mention money difficulties--I +didn't mean to hear it"--hastily--"but I just want to say that I'll be +your banker until Winslow gets better." + +"You dear!" Kathleen sat up and kissed her warmly and Mrs. Whitney, quite +overcome, embraced her with tears in her eyes. + +"What's a friend for if she can't be of use!" Miss Kiametia's manner was +always most brusque when seeking to cover emotion. "Land sakes! I forgot +to tell you that Randall Foster wishes to see you both." + +"Now!" Kathleen looked down at her negligée attire. "Can't he wait until +tomorrow? Dr. McLane said I could get up then." + +"He is very anxious to interview you this evening, Kathleen. Put on this +pretty dressing-gown," and Miss Kiametia picked it up from the couch. +"You help her into it, Minna, while I go and get Randall," and not +waiting for a reply she whisked out of the room, returning a few minutes +later with Senator Foster. + +"I am here under the doctor's order," explained Kathleen, taking his +proffered hand, after he had greeted Mrs. Whitney. "Won't you sit down?" + +"Thank you," muttered Foster, recovering with an effort from the shock +her appearance occasioned him. She looked wretchedly ill, and the hand he +held for a second in his was hot with fever. "I can stay but a minute, +Miss Kathleen. Do you think that tomorrow you can sign some papers in +reference to Sinclair Spencer's will?" + +"Why should I sign any such papers?" in quick surprise. "What have I to +do with his will?" + +"Hasn't your mother told you?" Mrs. Whitney shook her head, and answered +for Kathleen. + +"Winslow said not to mention the matter to Kathleen yesterday, and today +his illness put everything out of my mind," she explained. + +Kathleen looked from one to the other. "What have I to do with his will?" +she repeated. + +"Sinclair Spencer made you residuary legatee." + +"What!" Kathleen sat up, for the moment bereft of further speech. "I +shan't take any legacy left me by him," she announced, passionately. +"Mother, you hear me, _I won't_." + +"Yes, yes, dear," soothingly, and Senator Foster broke in hastily: + +"We understand how you must feel." + +"Feel!" echoed Kathleen. "Did you for one moment suppose I would accept a +penny from Sinclair Spencer or his estate?" and the scorn in her eyes +hurt Foster as she looked at him. + +"The law requires certain formalities," he said hurriedly. "As executor, +I shall have to talk over his will with you, but later will do." + +"Both now and later, I flatly refuse to consider any such bequest he may +have made me," went on Kathleen, unheeding his words as her excitement +increased, and Miss Kiametia hastened to avert the threatened scene. + +"Where were you yesterday afternoon, Randall?" she asked. + +"In Baltimore." Foster flashed her a grateful glance. "I hope you made +use of my car yesterday, Mrs. Whitney; I told Henry to take it out until +yours was repaired." + +"You were very kind; Winslow went out in it." Mrs. Whitney's glance +strayed to the door; she was anxious to return to her husband's bedside. + +"And with your permission, Randall, I'm going to use your car now to take +me home," chipped in Miss Kiametia. + +"Oh, Kiametia, you must not go," protested Mrs. Whitney. "You are such a +comfort--such a help...." + +"Don't go," added Kathleen. "Your presence makes my enforced idleness +here easier to bear." + +"Thank you, my dears." The spinster looked immensely pleased. "Of course +I'll stay, if you really feel you want me." + +"I am the only one bereft," said Foster wistfully. "I cannot call upon +you tonight, Kiametia." + +"Of course you can," exclaimed Mrs. Whitney, smiling faintly. "We are not +so selfish as to keep Kiametia to ourselves all the time. If you will +excuse me, I must go back to Winslow." + +"Certainly." Foster rose and opened the door for her. "I must not stop +longer. Good night, Miss Kathleen, I hope that you will feel better in +the morning." + +"Thanks; please come here just a moment," and reluctantly Foster +approached the bed. He did not wish to resume discussion about +Spencer's will. "Tell me," Kathleen lowered her voice, "when will the +Grand Jury meet?" + +"Not for ten days or more." + +"That is all, thanks," and Foster moved away. At the door he signaled to +Miss Kiametia to step into the hall with him, and after a quick glance at +Kathleen's averted face, the spinster followed him, softly closing the +door behind her. + +As the click of the latch reached her, Kathleen, seeing that she was +alone, leaned over and put out the light. The darkness was pleasant to +her, and she buried her hot hands under her pillows, the better to feel +the cool linen. Soothed by its contact she struggled to reduce her +chaotic thoughts to order. Sinclair Spencer had left her money--Sinclair +Spencer had left her money--the sentence beat in her brain tirelessly. +The idea was as repugnant to her as his personality had been. In life he +had plagued her, and in death he had involved her in conspiracy and +subjected her to cruel suspicion. + +Her father's illness has aroused her from the torpor following Charles +Miller's departure the night before. She writhed even at the recollection +of her scene with him. Again and again she had been on the point of +sending for the police and denouncing him, but remembrance of the +forty-eight hours of grace which she had granted him stayed her impulse. + +He had killed every spark of affection, she assured herself repeatedly; +and then turned and tossed upon her pillows as vivid recollection painted +each happy hour with him that winter. + +A moan broke from her, and at the sound a stealthy figure advancing from +the sitting-room adjoining, stopped dead. Hearing no further sound, the +intruder moved cautiously forward and bent over Kathleen. + +"Mademoiselle!" + +Kathleen's eyes flew open. "Julie! You have come back!" + +"Hush, mademoiselle! Not so loud," and Julie, dropping on her knees by +the bed, laid a warning finger on Kathleen's lips. Reaching out her +hands, the latter clasped the Frenchwoman in a warm embrance, which was +as warmly returned. + +"You have come back," she repeated in a whisper. "Julie, you met +with no harm?" + +"No, mademoiselle." + +"Where have you been?" + +"No matter now, mademoiselle. I spent last night with Vincent's sister, +Marie Tregot. He smuggled me into the house a little while ago. He told +me of all that you have been through. Oh, that I had stayed; but I acted +for the best, mademoiselle." + +"I am sure of that, Julie"--touched by the feeling in the maid's voice. + +"I was misled"--bitterly--"and by one I thought to be +trusted--Captain Miller." + +"Julie! He did not offer...." + +"No, no, mademoiselle"--Kathleen's taut muscles relaxed and she sank +weakly back in bed. "But I have reason to believe that Captain Miller is +not what he seems. Listen, mademoiselle: I was in M. Foster's touring +car--no matter how I came there now--last night. Henry was driving it. He +knew not that I was in the tonneau. When he stopped the car and got out I +watched him enter a residence in Nineteenth Street. I dared not stay +longer in the car, and hid in the vestibule of the house adjoining the +one he had entered. They are what you call semi-detached, and concealed I +was very close at hand. I had been there but a short time when a man ran +up the steps of the next house and I recognized Captain Miller. He +entered and I waited long, oh, so long, when out came Henry and Captain +Miller ..." + +"Well?" prompted Kathleen, as Julie came to a breathless pause. + +"The Captain entered the car with Henry and drove off. After their +departure I rang the bell of the house where I was hiding and asked +the butler who were their next-door neighbors. He said Baron Frederic +von Fincke." + +"Oh, more evidence against him!" Kathleen drew in her breath sharply. + +"Mademoiselle?" But Kathleen did not explain her remark, and Julie +continued hurriedly; "I at first thought to return here at once, but +remembered Marie Tregot. She gave me house room, and I arranged with +Vincent last night to admit me after dark today." + +"But why not come openly, Julie? No one will harm you." + +"Henry is a spy--a traitor--it did not suit my plans to have him know my +whereabouts." + +"But Julie...." + +"Mademoiselle, have patience--bear with me but a little longer--" The +excited Frenchwoman rose and going to both doors locked them. She +returned and switched on the reading lamp. "Quelle horreur! Mademoiselle, +what have these beasts done to you?" she exclaimed, aghast, inspecting +Kathleen in consternation. "They shall pay for every sign of suffering in +your face." + +"Do not let us discuss me," Kathleen sighed wearily. "Will you tell the +police of your suspicions concerning Henry?" + +"No, mademoiselle." Julie's expression changed. "I like not the police +just now. I have a plan of my own." She checked herself abruptly. "Have +you seen the _Star_?" + +"No, Julie." + +"See, it says here"--pointing to a paragraph in a folded sheet torn from +a newspaper which she drew from under her apron--"'Fire at Roebling's +Plant of Incendiary Origin.' Tell me, mademoiselle, what is Roebling's?" + +"A factory near Trenton, New Jersey, which I believe"--Kathleen spoke +somewhat uncertainly--"manufactures insulated as well as barbed wire." + +"Ah, that is used in trench fighting!" The Frenchwoman took from the +bodice of her black gown a crumpled telegram singed at the edges. "Henry +received this but an hour ago. I watched, oh, so carefully. I saw him +turn pale, and such was his haste to leave the house that he did not wait +to see that the paper burned when he threw it in the grate. Can you +translate it for me, mademoiselle?" + +Smoothing out the telegram, Kathleen, with the maid intently peering +over her shoulder, read the words it contained besides the address, in +puzzled silence: + +Trenton, hurry. + +Hartzmann. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +IN FULL CRY + + +Senator Foster, buttoning his overcoat against the March wind, left +Calumet Place and sought his yellow touring car standing at the curb of +an intersecting street near by. He had dispensed with the services of +his chauffeur for that night. Seating himself behind the steering wheel, +he started the machine down Fourteenth Street, so deep in thought that +he barely missed running over two belated pedestrians scurrying to the +sidewalk, and entirely missed the signals of a street-crossing +policeman, who contented himself with a string of curses as he +recognized the yellow car and bullied the next automobile chauffeur as a +slight vent to his feelings. + +As Foster sped by the War, State, and Navy Building he noted the lights +burning in widely separated office rooms and smiled grimly to himself. +Parking the car near the Whitney residence, he made his way to the front +door. Miss Kiametia Grey answered his impatient ring at the bell. + +"A nice hour for you to keep your appointment, and for me to see +attractive men," she grumbled, leading the way to the library. +"Fortunately, I have a reputation for eccentricity--it saves me a great +deal of annoyance, and covers--er--indiscretions." + +"You--the most discreet of women," protested Foster, seating himself on +the sofa by her. "And I have come tonight to confide in you...." + +"Have you?" dryly. "I doubt it; but go ahead"--generous encouragement +in her tone. + +"How is Whitney?" + +"Pulse stronger, but still unconscious. Minna, poor child, insists that +he knows her, and will not permit herself to believe in what I fear is +the inevitable." + +"Perhaps it is better so," compassionately. "What should we do without +hope in this world? I should not be surprised if Kathleen's condition is +graver than her father's." Meeting her surprised look, he tapped his +forehead significantly. "Brain fever." + +"She is acting queerly," admitted the spinster. "Tonight she locked +herself in her room, won't see even the nurse, and refuses food." + +"I fear the breaking point is near," conceded Foster. "I did not like Dr. +McLane's manner when we met him on leaving Kathleen; he also is worried." + +He paused and asked abruptly, "Has Kathleen seen Charles Miller?" + +"Not today." + +"When was he last here?" + +"Let me see," calculating on her fingers. "He came with you on Wednesday +when I was here--today is Saturday." + +"Did Kathleen see him on Wednesday?" + +"I don't think so." + +"Has he been here since?" + +"I can't say; possibly the servants can tell you." + +"Will you find out from them before I go?" Miss Kiametia nodded +affirmatively, and he asked; "Has Kathleen spoken to you of seeing him +since Spencer's death?" + +"No." + +"Has she ever confided to you whether she cares for him or not?" + +"Not in words," dryly. "But my woman's intuition tells me ..." + +"Yes?" as she paused. + +"That Kathleen worships the ground he walks on." + +"Too bad." Foster sat back, looking troubled. "Too, too bad." + +"What's this? A deathbed repentance? _You_ introduced Miller in +Washington," and the spinster's sharp eyes bored into him. + +Foster moved uncomfortably. "I am sincerely sorry," he mumbled. "I have +been grossly deceived." + +"Humph!" Miss Kiametia moved closer to his side. "Go on--confession is +good for the soul." + +"I can't tell you just now," was the disappointing rejoinder. "Who found +Whitney in his studio this morning?" + +"I did; and a nice shock I had," with a shudder. "The antics in this +house are deranging my nervous system. I can't even sleep." + +"How did you happen to be around at that hour?" + +"Rosa had a bad attack of indigestion after serving dinner, and I +promised to look in and see how she was during the night. Just as I came +out of her room I thought I heard groans and rushed upstairs; found the +studio door open, and by aid of my electric torch, found Winslow lying on +the floor." + +"Did you see anyone else in the room?" + +"No, I only had the light from the torch to guide me, and that is a very +big room, with models and furniture standing around in odd spots." + +"Why didn't you turn on the electric lights?" impatiently. + +"Couldn't find the switch. I did press a button, the only one I +could locate in my haste, and it brought Henry, who switched on the +lights for me." + +"And afterward did you find any trace of papers' having been stolen? +Drawers opened, or anything?" + +"I never looked to see." Foster sat back in bitter disappointment. "All I +thought about was breaking the news of Winslow's condition to Minna and +Kathleen, and getting a doctor. Henry attended to _that_; and I went +downstairs, awoke Minna," she hesitated perceptibly, "Kathleen I found +sitting in her bedroom--dressed." + +"What!" Foster shot her a swift glance. "Asleep?" + +"No. Just sitting there, apparently too dazed to realize my presence, let +alone what I told her. Finally she grasped the news of her father's +illness, and her grief was bitter." + +"Poor girl!" + +Miss Kiametia fingered her gown nervously. "You were in Baltimore when +the newspapers published Spencer's will, and this afternoon Dr. McLane +interrupted us," she began. "Is it really true that Sinclair Spencer left +Kathleen a small fortune?" + +"Yes. On investigation, I find he held valuable stock, as well as +improved real estate of known value." + +"Sinclair Spencer was a bad egg," said Miss Kiametia slowly. "It would +have been like him to boast of his wealth to Kathleen, and by its power +seek to influence her to accept him." + +"A man will do anything to win the woman he loves," said Foster, with a +sidelong look of affection utterly lost on the spinster, who sat deep +in thought. + +"A large legacy," she commented aloud. "It establishes a motive which I +thought lacking before." + +"Kiametia!" Foster shook her elbow roughly. "What are you hinting at?" + +"Hush!" The spinster pointed to the portières in the doorway leading to +the drawing-room. "Who is lurking there?" + +She spoke in a subdued whisper which reached Foster's ears alone, but as +he rose, startled, the portières parted and Detective Mitchell walked +over to them. + +"Have you seen Captain Charles Miller?" he asked eagerly, omitting +other greeting. + +"No," they replied in concert. + +"Strange! I saw him enter the front door half an hour ago, using a +latchkey." + +"Charles Miller with a latchkey of this house!" gasped Miss Kiametia. + +"Yes," declared Mitchell, "and I have searched the house and cannot +find him." + +"Perhaps he came to see Kathleen," suggested Foster. + +"Could you go and see if he is with her, Miss Grey?" urged Mitchell. "Her +suite of rooms is the one place where I have not looked." + +"Yes, I--I suppose so," but the spinster held back. + +"Do go," put in Foster gently. "A clandestine meeting is not wise +for either Kathleen or Miller. Think of the construction which may +be put upon it." + +"True." But Miss Kiametia rose reluctantly, and to gain time to collect +her ideas, walked over to the table to gather up her scarf and gold mesh +purse. As she picked up the latter a slight scream escaped her. Instantly +the two men were by her side. + +"See, it's missing!" she cried, raising the gold mesh purse with its +dangling vanity box. + +"What is missing?" demanded Foster. "Don't look so distracted, my +darling." + +"M-m-my g-gold p-p-pencil," she stuttered. + +"Is that all?" and Foster smiled in relief. "I'll buy you another +tomorrow." + +"Indeed you won't," recovering some degree of composure. "I'll find +mine, if I have to search this house from the top to the bottom." + +"But please see Miss Whitney first," broke in Mitchell. + +Miss Kiametia cast him a strange look. "That is the first place I shall +go," she announced, and the two men watched her depart in silence. Foster +was about to speak when the electric lights flickered, grew dim, and then +went slowly out. + +"Trouble in the power house," grumbled Mitchell, searching his pocket for +his electric torch. "I noticed a tie-up in the street cars just before I +came in. Can you find any candles on the mantel, sir?" flashing his torch +in that direction. "Every light in the house must be out." + + * * * * * + +Henry, the chauffeur, paused in indecision on Baron Frederic von Fincke's +doorstep. "You are quite certain the Baron said he would return on the +night train?" + +"Quite," answered the valet. "He is due here at seven o'clock in the +morning. Good night." + +"Good night," echoed Henry, and turning went swiftly down the street. He +stopped for a moment at a news stand, talked with the proprietor, and +then turned his footsteps toward the Whitneys'. As he passed the War, +State, and Navy Building the lighted windows attracted his attention. +With deepening interest he noted the location of the rooms from which the +light shone. Officials of the government were working late. + +Turning, Henry sped down a side street and slipping up an alley, entered +the Whitney house by the rear entrance. He stood in deep thought outside +the kitchen door for a moment before opening it; a flash from his +electric torch showed the dark room was totally empty. Satisfied that +Rosa had gone to her bedroom, he crept softly up the back stairs and +along the front hall of the first bedroom floor. He had almost reached +Miss Kiametia Grey's bedroom door when a slight noise made him pause and +glance up the winding front stairs. He shrank farther back in the shadows +of the dark hall as a faint light appeared, outlining a white face +peering down the staircase. + +Henry caught his breath sharply. How came Julie to be back in the house? +The she-devil! Spying upon him. By God! The reckoning was close at hand, +and he crawled forward a pace, then stopped. Julie had vanished, and with +her the light. Henry debated for a moment. With Julie in the house, his +plans were changed. + +Losing no time, and as noiseless as the shadows about him, Henry made +his way down the back stairs, into the kitchen, down another flight of +steps into the sub-cellar, past the bottom of the elevator shaft, the +motor room, and to the front of the house. With swift, deft fingers he +swung aside a panel of shelves containing rows of preserve jars and +pickles, and stepped inside a small chamber. Carefully he drew to the +panel which, with its strong, well-oiled hinges, made no sound as it +slipped into place. A second more and the small chamber was flooded with +light as Henry found the switch. Never glancing at the batteries lining +the wall, he went direct to the small pine table, and his fingers sought +the telegraph instruments and set them in motion. + +Upstairs in the library the two candles which Foster had been able to +find in the desk drawer burned brightly in their improvised candlesticks. +The flame, however, served but to intensify the darkness of the large +room. The minutes had ticked themselves away in swift succession, but +still Miss Kiametia Grey did not return. Mitchell shut his watch with an +impatient snap, and Foster, his nerves not fully under control, looked up +at the sound. + +"What can be keeping Miss Grey?" he asked. + +"Can't imagine, unless--" The detective never completed the sentence. + +"Come quickly," whispered a voice over his shoulder, and swinging about +with a convulsive start, Mitchell recognized Charles Miller. With common +impulse he and Foster sprang up, but he was the first to reach Miller's +side, and the candlelight shone on burnished steel. "Put up the +handcuffs, Mitchell," directed Miller contemptuously. "The time has not +yet come to use them." + +"I am not so sure of that," retorted Mitchell. "You are ..." + +"We can argue the point later." Miller made for the door. "Both of you +come with me; but for God's sake, make no noise." His manner impressed +them, and after one second's hesitation, the detective replaced the +handcuffs, and in their stead produced a revolver. + +"Go ahead," he said. "But remember, Miller, if you attempt to escape you +will be arrested." + +Without replying Miller led the way through the silent house, his torch +and occasional whispered direction guiding them to the sub-cellar. + +Inside the chamber under the parking of the house, Henry worked with +tireless energy, taking down the coded messages as they flashed from the +skilled fingers of the Government operators in the great War, State, and +Navy Department but a stone's throw away. Suddenly, above the click of +the sounder his abnormal sense of hearing caught a faint noise on the +other side of the closed panel. One movement of his hand and the chamber +was in darkness and the telegraph instrument stilled. Backing into a +corner, Henry waited, his eyes still blinded by the change from light to +darkness; but he heard the opening of the panel, and the soft swish of a +woman's skirts. + +"Julie!" His lips formed the word, but no sound issued from him as he +launched himself forward. For a few seconds he closed with his adversary. +Backward and forward they rocked; then a shot rang out and with a sob a +figure sank limply across the pine table. + +"This way!" shouted Miller, and guided by his voice Mitchell and Foster +dashed after him. They stopped just inside the chamber. Miller's torch +cast its beams across the pine table and its silent burden. A gasping cry +broke from Foster: + +"Mrs. Whitney!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +RETRIBUTIVE JUSTICE + + +"Dead!" The detective bent over Mrs. Whitney. "Shot through the heart." +He turned to his silent companions. "Who fired that revolver?" and his +own covered Miller menacingly. + +Miller, spying the electric lamp, switched it on before answering. Still +silent, he pointed to the telegrapher's outfit which confronted them and +to the tell-tale wires leading to the outer world. + +"The shot was fired," he said, "by the man who tunneled out to the +conduit in which are the cables running to the White House and War, +State, and Navy Building, and tapped them." + +"Where is he?" Mitchell cast a bewildered look about the small chamber. + +"I felt someone brush by me on the stairs in the darkness," volunteered +Foster, recovering somewhat from his stupefaction. "I fear he has got +safely away." + +"No." Miller stepped back from Mrs. Whitney's side. "Chief Connor of +the Secret Service has a cordon of operatives about the house. +Heinrich Strauss, alias Henry Ross, chauffeur, cannot escape. Listen, +isn't that a shot?" + +"I hope to God they've caught him alive!" exclaimed Mitchell, looking +sorrowfully at the dead woman. "He'll swing for this murder, if not for +the death of Sinclair Spencer." + +"I doubt if he was guilty of that crime," said Miller quietly. + +"What!" Mitchell stared incredulously at him. "What leads you to +think that?" + +"Hush!" Miller held up a warning hand as the sound of hurrying footsteps +reached them. A second more and Julie appeared in the sub-cellar, guided +by their light. Her eyes were gleaming with a strange excitement. +Unnoticed by the others, Miller swiftly removed his coat and threw it +over Mrs. Whitney so that it covered her face. + +"He is caught, that Henry!" called Julie, catching sight of Foster +standing in the opening of the secret chamber. "He was getting away, oh, +so softly in the dark, and I tripped him. But yes, and he +fired"--touching a red gash in her cheek. "But the others, they pounced +upon him. La--la! And they are bringing him here. But what--?" trying to +peer past Foster. + +Miller stepped forward. "Crouch down behind those barrels, Julie," he +ordered, and the Frenchwoman, startled by his sudden appearance, obeyed +mechanically. By sheer force of personality Miller took command. "Go back +and wait in the telegraph room," he whispered hurriedly. "You do the +questioning, Mitchell; I'll keep out of sight here." + +Before Mitchell could ask the question burning on his lips, a number of +men made their way down the staircase, Heinrich Strauss in their midst, +handcuffed to the tallest operative. Mitchell saluted as he recognized +the foremost man. + +"This room will interest you, Chief," he said, making way for him, and +Connor took a comprehensive look over the chamber. + +"We've found the leak," he acknowledged. "Clever work that," inspecting +the arrangement of the wires. He drew back at the sight of the covered +figure stretched across the table. "What's this--murder?" + +"Yes," answered Mitchell. "Henry, here," jerking his thumb toward the +erstwhile chauffeur, "killed the woman before we could interfere." + +"Did I?" demanded Heinrich. "How are you going to prove it? I wasn't in +this room ..." + +"You waste time," said a cool voice behind him, and Miller stepped into +the circle. "The game is up, Heinrich." + +"You renegade!" Heinrich was livid with fury. + +"This man is Heinrich Strauss," continued Miller quietly. "One of the +most expert electricians and telegraph operators in Germany. He could be +described as an electrical genius." + +"His work shows that," acknowledged Chief Connor. + +A slight stir in the doorway caused Heinrich to turn, and he smiled +evilly at sight of Kathleen and Miss Kiametia Grey. + +"I'm glad you've come," he said, addressing Kathleen directly, as she +shrank back at sight of him. "That man there," pointing to Miller, "is +Karl von Mueller, captain in the Secret Service." A low moan broke from +Kathleen, and she looked anywhere but at Miller, who had stepped forward +to stand between her and the pine table with its pathetic burden. "Von +Mueller," continued Heinrich, "killed Sinclair Spencer." + +"I deny it," exclaimed Miller. + +"Lies won't help," retorted Heinrich. "Miss Whitney, did you not attempt +to rub off with your handkerchief from Spencer's blood-stained shirt, +Captain von Mueller's finger print?" + +The question from that source was unexpected. Twice Kathleen strove to +answer. She cast an agonized look about the circle of men, but their set, +stern faces gave her no help. + +"Yes," and the monosyllable was little more than a murmur. + +"Ah, take that down, Detective Mitchell," exclaimed Heinrich, +triumphantly. "And von Mueller was in the house that night--do you deny +it?" + +"No." Miller's clear voice did not falter nor did his gaze, and Mitchell, +handcuffs in evidence, looked perplexedly at Chief Connor. The latter was +watching Miller like a lynx, and the Secret Service operatives closed up +in the entranceway--there was no chance to escape, handcuffs seemed +unnecessary. + +The smile that crossed Heinrich's lips was cruel. "We will swing +together, von Mueller," he said. "Turning state's evidence will not save +you, you traitor!" With an effort he controlled his rage, and spoke more +calmly, "Chief Connor, your informer last night stole Whitney's +invention; besides admitting to me that he had it, he left these +tell-tale finger prints"--his hand sought his pocket, but a quick jerk on +the handcuffs stopped him. "Take it out yourself," he snarled to the +operative next him, "inside pocket." His request was quickly complied +with. "There, that tells the story; open it." + +Detective Mitchell bent eagerly forward and gazed at the sheet, then +turned to Miller. + +"Let me see your hands," he directed. Obediently Miller held them palm +uppermost, and the detective and Chief Connor examined the half-moon scar +on the index finger of his right hand with minute care. + +"It tallies," exclaimed Mitchell. A cry from Kathleen broke the silence. +Miller whitened as he heard it. + +"The evidence is conclusive, is it not?" mocked Heinrich. "If that dead +woman could speak"--pointing to the table--"she would tell you how she +saw the crime committed." + +"Suppose we take her mute testimony"--and with a swift movement Miller +removed his coat. + +"Merciful God!" With eyes starting from his head Heinrich recoiled. "Mrs. +Whitney! Why didn't she let me know she was coming down here?" + +"Ah, then she was in the habit of coming?" + +Miller's remark remained unanswered. Heinrich stared and stared again at +Mrs. Whitney, great beads of sweat standing on his forehead. "I thought +it was Julie--that hell-cat!" he muttered. "Why, why didn't she speak, +and let me know who she was?" Then suddenly he collapsed on the one +chair in the chamber and bowed his head. + +At sight of Mrs. Whitney a gasping cry escaped Kathleen. Involuntarily +her eyes strayed about the chamber, her dazed senses slowly grasping the +situation. In the appalling silence one idea became paramount--Henry, the +chauffeur, was a spy, and both his words and behavior implicated Mrs. +Whitney. She, his accomplice? Oh, impossible! She put the thought from +her, but memories, unconsidered trifles, rose to combat Kathleen's +loyalty. Had Mrs. Whitney's smilingly collected manner and dignified +reserve cloaked a cold, calculating, and treacherous nature? + +Kathleen shuddered in horror, and reeled back into Miss Kiametia's arms. +The spinster, shaken out of her forced composure, was crying without +realizing it. She placed a protecting arm about Kathleen and held her in +close embrace. Over the shoulders of the men, Julie, who had crawled from +her hiding place behind the barrels, peered at them in mingled curiosity +and incredulity. + +"Heinrich!" Miller's voice penetrated even the spy's benumbed brain. "Why +is Mrs. Whitney wearing these finger tips?" and he held up the limp right +hand. Each finger was fitted with a wax tip, and on the index finger, +distinct and plain, was the scar shaped like a half moon. + +Stunned, the men and women present looked first at Mrs. Whitney's hand, +then at Miller, and last at Heinrich. No one spoke, and in the heavy +silence the spy's labored breathing was distinct. + +"The game is up," he admitted slowly. "I wish I hadn't done that," +nodding to the silent figure. "She didn't deserve to be shot by me. She +was faithful to Germany ..." + +"Do you mean to insinuate that Minna Whitney was a German spy?" asked +Miss Kiametia, shocked into speech. + +"Well, yes, you might call it that," taunted Heinrich. "I term it +loyalty to the Fatherland, where she was born and brought up. Her mother +was a German." + +"She would never have aided you but for your devilish wiles," broke in +Miller hotly. + +"The fact that she was deeply in debt did influence her," admitted +Heinrich insolently. "Money was her god. I had to pay handsomely before +she would engage my services as chauffeur, and let me make use of this +nice little box." + +"Did you construct this tunnel under the pavement"--pointing to where the +telegraph wires entered the chamber--"and install this outfit by +yourself?" asked Chief Connor, breaking his long silence. + +Heinrich smiled. "You will never learn that from me--and you should +remember that your conduits are laid only seven inches below the surface +of the street; it was hardly a man-sized job." He smiled again, and +continued. "Neither Mrs. Whitney nor I wished to take anyone wholly into +our confidence. She was a perfect assistant; she knew the antecedents of +nearly everyone in society here, and she invariably found out, or got +others to find out, the motives which inspired strangers to come to +Washington. Her husband never interfered with our plans, as he spent most +of his time, both day and night, in his studio. The servants never came +down in this sub-cellar, and with Mrs. Whitney's connivance, I frequently +managed to keep the limousine in the repair shop--and my time was my own. +My surroundings were ideal, even the location of this house favored my +plans ..." + +"Until you grew too ambitious," added Connor softly. + +"Perhaps." Heinrich gnawed at his underlip as he shot a glance full of +venom at Kathleen who stood with head averted, drinking in all that was +said. To hurt her, to lower her pride appealed to Heinrich; his silence +would not benefit the dead woman, while speech would cruelly hurt and +mortify both Kathleen and her father. "My government was anxious to +secure Mr. Whitney's inventions; he would not sell to them, although +Baron--" he stopped and scowled at Miller--"offered him a large sum. +Whitney stuck to it that none but his own country could have the +inventions. Then I suggested to Mrs. Whitney that she get the drawings +and specifications for me; and again I paid her a large sum of money. But +it was as difficult for Mrs. Whitney to get into the studio as for me, +and the danger to herself was not small. Her husband was very suspicious, +and he never permitted her to remain in the room alone. + +"However, because she was not aware I had perfected, as I thought, +another plan to secure the invention, and tempted by the sum of money I +held before her to succeed, she made another attempt last night. She +cried out with disappointment when, after entering, she found only blank +paper, and Whitney heard her." He stared at the horrified faces about +him, and clearing his voice, added, "The shock finished Whitney." + +"You are the devil incarnate!" exclaimed Miss Kiametia, wrathfully. + +"I'm not, but he is." Heinrich raised his manacled hands menacingly +toward Miller. "I never fully trusted you, von Mueller; although I never +found any evidence of your double dealing in your room. But while +outwardly appearing to confide in you, I took the precaution to +incriminate you should my plans miscarry. I observed the peculiar scar on +your finger, and conceived the idea of copying your finger tips in wax. +With Mrs. Whitney's help, I secured an impression of your finger prints +and had it copied in wax. The workman, another German sympathizer, +achieved a wonderful copy of the original, and by my advice Mrs. Whitney +wore the wax finger tips whenever she had work to do." + +"An ingenious plan, very," ejaculated Mitchell, "and one new to me." + +"Mrs. Whitney was wearing them on the night that Sinclair Spencer took it +into his besotted brain to investigate this house," went on Heinrich. +"Mrs. Whitney told me afterwards that she was on the way here to see me, +when she spied Spencer crouching in the elevator, the door of which was +open. She was afraid of being discovered if she went upstairs again, and +to stay was equally dangerous. + +"She had with her a hypodermic syringe which I had given her to use in an +emergency." Kathleen straightened up, and for the first time stared full +at the spy. "The syringe was filled with a solution of cyanide of +potassium," continued Henry. "Adjusting the needle, Mrs. Whitney entered +the elevator, and before Spencer could move, thrust it into his neck. +Spencer gave one convulsive start, attempted to get up, and his heavy +body lurched full against her. She held a knife in her left hand, and as +he half arose from his knees, the force of contact against the worn edges +of the knife gashed his throat. I had asked Mrs. Whitney to bring me one +of the knives which her daughter had for modeling, as I wanted to use +some putty down here. + +"With great presence of mind," continued Heinrich, after a brief pause +which no one cared to break, "Mrs. Whitney ran the elevator to the +attic, and before leaving dipped her wax finger tip in the blood flowing +from Spencer's throat, and made a distinct impression of von Mueller's +finger print on Spencer's white shirt front. Mrs. Whitney left the +elevator at the attic, but Detective Mitchell arrived before she missed +the syringe. On discovering Miss Grey had it, she made various attempts +to get it back. + +"I found the hypodermic syringe," confessed Miss Kiametia. "It was lying +inside the elevator, and I picked it up just after Kathleen was carried +from the elevator. The syringe was marked 'K.W.,' and some impulse made +me keep it, and after the inquest, when I learned cyanide of potassium +had killed Spencer, I hardly let it out of my sight"--Kathleen turned +bewildered, grateful eyes on the spinster--she was not a drug-fiend, but +the most loyal of friends. Her hand tightened on the spinster's, and her +pressure was returned twofold. "Did Kathleen's unnatural mother +deliberately have that syringe marked with her daughter's initials?" + +"Put it down to coincidence," sneered Heinrich. "Or say I had it marked +'K.W.' for--Kaiser Wilhelm." + +"I doubt it; malice alone governed your actions to all in my house." +Kathleen faced the spy proudly. "Miss Kiametia, you do Mrs. Whitney one +injustice. She was not an unnatural mother--as she was no blood kin of +mine, but my father's second wife. She never told anyone that I was not +her child. I don't know why she kept the matter a secret, but I only +learned it accidentally a year ago, and respecting her wishes, never said +anything about it." + +"Mrs. Whitney was secretive by nature," said Heinrich. "And that instinct +made her a willing pawn." + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + +LOVE PARAMOUNT + + +Pausing only long enough to say a parting word to Coroner Penfield and +Chief Connor, Miller hastened up the back stairs and entered the library. +Kathleen and Miss Kiametia Grey, utterly unmindful of the hour, sat on +the sofa, and near them stood Julie, a neat bandage wound about her cheek +and head, while Senator Foster paced agitatedly up and down the room. He +stopped on seeing Miller. + +"Will you kindly inform us who you are?" he demanded peremptorily. "The +Secretary of State showed me a letter tonight from Vincent stating that +you were a German spy ..." + +"Oh, that Vincent!" exclaimed Julie. "I talked too much to him." + +"I came here at once," went on Foster, paying no attention to Julie, +"hoping to elicit some facts about you from Miss Grey and Miss Kathleen. +Tell us at once who you are." + +"Charles Miller Trent," was the calm reply. + +"Then why"--Kathleen sprang to her feet--"why were you masquerading as +Karl von Mueller when I knew you in Germany?" + +"I beg your pardon, you did not know me in Germany." Kathleen +crimsoned at the direct contradiction. "But you did know my cousin, +Karl von Mueller." + +Too dazed for utterance, Kathleen stared at him, studying his face as +never before, and gradually her incredulity gave place to belief. Feature +for feature, coloring matching coloring, the man before her resembled +Karl as she remembered him, but the honesty and steadfast purpose to be +read in Miller's square jaw and fine eyes had been lacking in his cousin. + +"The likeness is extraordinary," she stammered. + +"Yes," agreed Miller. "But I do not think you would have been so +thoroughly certain of my identity if I had not copied my cousin's +mannerisms as well as his handwriting." + +"Then you were brought up together?" asked Foster. + +"In a way, yes. I was never in Germany, but my aunt, Frau von Mueller, +spent many winters at my father's home in Rio Janeiro...." + +"What, are you the son of the coffee importer, Charles M. Trent," +demanded Foster, again interrupting him. + +"Yes. As boys Karl and I were perpetually changing identities and +confusing our playmates, as well as our parents. To that end I was a +willing German scholar, and Karl also became proficient in his +English studies." + +"Were you entirely educated in South America?" asked Miss Kiametia. + +"Oh, no; I spent a great deal of time in Santa Barbara, my mother's home, +and later attended Stanford University. But I have seldom been in the +East, and have few friends here. Last fall I overcame my mother's +objection (she unfortunately sympathized with Germany), and went to +England to enlist in the British army," continued Miller, after a brief +pause. "The night of my arrival in London I was arrested, charged with +being a spy. I had great difficulty, even with my passport and letters to +my bankers, in proving I was not a spy. Finally, I was told that a man +resembling me had been arrested, tried at once, and executed that day." + +"They keep such things quiet over there," commented Foster. + +"To cut a long story short, I was taken to see the dead spy, and found +he was my cousin, Karl von Mueller"--He hesitated and glanced sorrowfully +at Kathleen who sat with head averted. How would she take the news he was +imparting--how deep was her affection for the dead spy? Sighing, he +continued his statement. "The indorsement of my father's influential +friends, whom I had called upon to establish my identity, evidently +carried weight, for on my release it was suggested to me by one high in +authority that, instead of enlisting in the army, I use my cousin's +identity and spy upon the Germans. There was a spice of deviltry in the +scheme and--I accepted. + +"They gave me his papers, clothes, money, and I slipped straight into his +place. None of his companions had heard of his arrest and death. Those +whom I saw I told I had been out of London on a special mission, and they +believed the statement without question. By aid of such papers as my +cousin had kept concealed on his person, I learned something of his +methods, and contact with his companions in London taught me assurance. +No one doubted my identity. Karl had assumed the name of Charles Miller +and it was easy for me to drop my surname. Finally I was sent to a +certain town in the warring countries, and there I received instructions +to come to the United States." + +"Did the Germans accept your identity without question?" asked Foster. + +"Apparently so; but I was not in Germany twenty-four hours, and the Herr +Chief of the Secret Service was familiar with my cousin's appearance and +never doubted he was talking to Karl," answered Miller. "On my arrival +here I communicated at once with Chief Connor, giving him the credentials +I had brought from the London office. By his advice I followed out the +instructions given me by the Herr Chief of the German Secret Service, and +to all intents and purposes was a German spy. But as I grew to know Baron +von Fincke better, I became convinced that another and cleverer man was +responsible for the leak in the carefully guarded offices of this +government. I suspected everyone," Miller smiled suddenly, "even you, +Senator Foster--your peace propaganda fooled me...." + +"Wait," broke in Miss Kiametia. "Randall shan't be blamed for that; +Minna Whitney insinuated that he would not make a peace speech even for +me, so I--I...." + +"Proved her wrong," Foster laughed ruefully. "Mrs. Whitney was a keen +student of human nature; but continue, Miller--er--Trent--I won't +interrupt again." + +"Chief Connor confided to me that messages were being wirelessed to +German cruisers, and that while the station at Sayville, Long Island, was +under surveillance, they were powerless to check the new use of the +wireless." Miller drew his chair closer. "I made a study of wireless +while at college, and the problem here fascinated me. I finally reached +the conclusion ..." + +"Yes, go on," urged Foster. + +"That messages to the German cruisers were being relayed from stations +close together; in other words, that the station in the heart of this +city had a wave length shorter than Arlington's minimum wave length, and +the Arlington Radio Station was unable to hear--you already know that a +transmitting and receiving station can only hear each other when in tune; +that is, the wave length of each must be equal. I therefore established a +receiving station in my room with a short wave length--and the result +justified my reasoning." + +"Good!" ejaculated Foster heartily. + +"But at that, while I had the messages to turn over to Chief Connor, I +was still in the dark as to the location of the sender. You know it is +impossible to determine the direction or distance of a transmitting +station by its waves--a ship at sea cannot be found by wireless unless +its bearings are given. I concluded that the transmitting station must be +in the vicinity of the government buildings, and the next relay within +five miles--a greater wave length could be picked up by Arlington. + +"On Tuesday night I got on the roof of one of the tall government +buildings near here, and examining each roof as I crossed it looking for +wireless antennae, I finally reached this house. I suspected I was being +watched by Baron von Fincke, but managed to confuse him as to the +direction I was taking, and finally clambered down into this attic +through the scuttle. I was certain he was not aware of my identity, and +for the sake of my plans, could not risk discovery. + +"I had never been in your attic before," went on Miller, addressing +Kathleen directly. "I was not even positive this was your house. When +trying to find my way about I chanced upon the elevator shaft; I thought +I was walking into a closet. At that moment I heard a footstep on the +stair." Julie started and bent eagerly forward. "Desiring to get away as +quickly as possible, I pressed the button for the elevator...." + +"But the elevator must have been right there," interrupted Kathleen. +"You could not have opened the outer mahogany door otherwise." + +"So I realized when I had collected my wits," responded Miller. "Opening +both doors, I bolted into the elevator a few minutes before the footsteps +reached the attic." + +"Was Spencer in the elevator then?" questioned Foster. + +"I don't know; the elevator was dark, and I only used my flashlight for a +second to show me the proper button to push for the first floor. It may +be that Spencer was in the elevator, but I did not see him." + +"But I did," volunteered Julie, coming forward. "And I it was you heard +creeping upstairs. I believed that Henry was a spy and feared that he +would steal Mr. Whitney's invention. Oh, monsieur, I was so intent on +guarding the studio I never gave a thought to the sub-cellar. Frequently +I watched all night in a niche I had fashioned near the wine closet, but +on Tuesday, alas! I slept. The soft closing of the elevator door awoke +me, and a person whom, by her walk and height, I judged to be +mademoiselle, moved away from the elevator and went downstairs. Inspired +by curiosity I entered the elevator a moment later, and switched on the +light. I was almost overcome by the sight of M. Spencer, and turned out +the light to shut away the view. I rushed to my room; but I could not +rest. I was in agony for you, mademoiselle; that very afternoon I had +warned you against Monsieur Spencer, and I feared--Oh, forgive me! that +you had killed him because he had injured your father. After a long +interval I crept upstairs to the attic and there tried to puzzle out what +would be best to do for mademoiselle. Fearing the police would make me +tell what I had seen, I ran away." + +"When did you discover Sinclair Spencer in the elevator, Kathleen?" asked +Miss Kiametia. + +"When I went to find Julie on Wednesday morning," began Kathleen. "I was +very absent-minded that morning, and after pressing the button for the +elevator never noticed whether it was long arriving at my floor or +not--the length of time it takes to reach a floor is the only way we have +of judging from where it comes," she explained. "I entered the elevator +intent only on pushing the basement button, which I did with my right +hand, pulling the folding grille-work steel door to with my left hand. My +back was turned to where Sinclair Spencer lay." She shuddered at the +recollection. "Just before the elevator reached the basement I turned +around and saw him. At first I was too stunned to move; then impulsively +turned on the electric light so that I might see better, and discovered +the finger print on his shirt. + +"I don't suppose I would have been so quick to recognize the finger mark +had not Miss Kiametia called my attention to it the day before when +reading Captain M--Trent's palm," she resumed, not looking at Miller. +"Horrified, I took my handkerchief and strove to make the stain +unrecognizable; then suddenly I lost control of myself, and gave vent to +scream after scream, and pressed my finger to the button nearest my hand. +I was taken to the third floor, but the stopping of the elevator did not +bring me self-control, and I think I should have lost my mind if the +elevator had not moved of itself; I realized someone had pushed a floor +button, but when the elevator stopped again and Miss Kiametia opened the +door, I had lost all reason ... I...." She stopped, overcome by the +recollection. + +"My poor darling!" Miss Kiametia kissed her tenderly. + +"How did you get that scar on your finger, Trent?" inquired Foster. + +"While on a hunting trio with my father in the interior of South +America my cousin and I, then fifteen and sixteen respectively, played a +trick on one of our Indian guides. With the assistance of other Indians +he branded my finger, saying by the half-moon we would be identified one +from the other." + +"That explains." Kathleen drew a long breath. "I racked my brain +to remember whether I had seen the scar on your finger in Germany, +and concluded you had perhaps received the injury since--since our +last meeting." + +"Tell me, Kathleen," broke in Miss Kiametia, "how did it happen that +Sinclair Spencer had a flower from your bouquet in his hand?" + +"I don't know, except that I wore the flowers the night before, and one +may have fallen on the floor of the elevator and he picked it up." + +Julie, who had followed Kathleen's every word with the closest attention, +stepped to Miller Trent's side. "Monsieur, can you explain this +telegram?" handing it to him. "Heinrich dropped it here late this +afternoon." + +Miller read the two words, then drew out a pencil. "Divide the word +'Trenton' to 'Trent on' and it reads: 'Trent on, hurry.' Yesterday +afternoon I met a man named Hartzmann; he had known Karl intimately, and +before I left him I realized something had aroused his suspicions. In +New York he communicated with Buenos Ayres, found my whereabouts was +unknown to my family, and jumped to the conclusion that I was +impersonating my cousin." + +"How do you know that?" demanded Foster. + +"The Secret Service operative shadowing Hartzmann notified me of it +today," answered Miller. "Obviously Hartzmann neglected to give any key +to his dispatch to Heinrich, and the latter must have been entirely in +the dark as to the real meaning of the warning. Von Fincke, whom +Hartzmann apparently relied on to enlighten Heinrich, is out of town." + +"Was it the operative's message to you about Hartzman which brought you +here tonight?" asked Foster. + +"No; I came hoping for an opportunity to examine Mr. Whitney's studio, +and used a key to the front door which I had had made without Heinrich's +knowledge. I thought by examining the studio I could find out who really +went there last night; Heinrich brought me a set of the finger prints, +and their startling resemblance to mine convinced me that a plot, +devilish in its ingenuity, was being concocted and an attempt made to +involve me in their machinations. On my way to the studio I saw Heinrich +creeping downstairs and followed him. I never for one moment suspected +Mrs. Whitney." + +"Nor did anyone else," agreed Foster. "Except that Heinrich was shocked +into confession by his having unintentionally killed Mrs. Whitney, +thinking her Julie, we might never have learned the whole truth. +Mitchell, after seeing Vincent's note to the Secretary of State, was +thoroughly convinced you were guilty. By the way, Kiametia, what kept you +so long upstairs when Mitchell asked you to find out if Miller was with +Miss Kathleen?" + +"Searching for that hypodermic needle; I believed Kathleen had +taken it back." + +"Did you see Mrs. Whitney upstairs?" + +"No, I stopped for a moment in Winslow's room, and the nurse told me +Minna had gone to her bedroom to lie down." + +"What possessed her to go to the sub-cellar?" asked Foster. + +"Probably a demon of unrest, or she may have had some message to leave +for Heinrich," suggested Miller. "When he grappled with her in the dark +she undoubtedly thought him a detective and dared not call out for fear +of disclosing her identity. Probably she thought Heinrich out of the +house, and never dreamed of his attacking her." + +"And Heinrich mistook her for me." Julie's eyes glowed. "The hand of +God! But, monsieur, why did you advise that I stay away from +mademoiselle, and take me to that dreadful house?" + +"Because, Julie, you were hysterical, and I feared if interviewed, you +might make some statement in all good faith which would do Miss Kathleen +irreparable injury. I also believed that your absence would serve to +divert suspicion until I had a chance to find the real criminal; I met +you before the inquest, and did not realize that your disappearance could +be used to militate against Miss Kathleen. As for Mrs. Robinson"--he +laughed slightly--"she keeps a private sanitarium, but just now has no +patients. You were perfectly safe there, and I had Connor detail an +operative to see that Heinrich did not torment you." + +"What will become of Baron von Fincke?" + +"Chief Connor and the State Department will handle his case. Connor told +me he found the Baron's next door neighbor--a man named Frank Lutz...." + +"Mercy, his wife's a member of the Sisters in Unity!" ejaculated +Miss Kiametia. + +"Lutz has a complete wireless transmitting station," went on Miller. "He +was stunned by his arrest, and attempted suicide; Connor believes he can +induce him to tell the locations of the other relay stations. Lutz had +the wireless antennae strung along the ceilings in the upper corridors of +his house. He declares they have just perfected a method to overcome +static interference." + +"And what about Heinrich?" asked Julie anxiously. "Will he escape?" + +"No, he will undoubtedly pay the penalty of his crime; Mitchell took him +in charge. Coroner Penfield was here a short time ago," added Miller, +turning to Miss Kiametia. "He assisted us to take Mrs. Whitney to her +bedroom; I left Rosa, the cook, there." + +"Thank you," murmured Kathleen. + +"I think I had better go upstairs and see to everything," and the +spinster rose. + +"Just a minute," Miller hesitated. "I felt that another and more +determined attempt would be made to get Mr. Whitney's invention, +Kathleen, and so suggested to him that he trust me with the drawings and +specifications." + +"Did he?" + +"Yes, and I took them over and deposited them In the care of Chief +Connor." + +"A capital idea," exclaimed Foster. + +"Then father's inventions are quite safe?" asked Kathleen. + +"Yes. One is a camera for taking a map of the country from an airship; +the other, still more marvelous--glass armor." + +"Glass what!" chorused his listeners. + +"Armor. A suit woven from a combination of mica and glass which Mauser +bullets cannot penetrate." + +"Good Lord!" Foster tugged at his hair until it stood upright. + +"We can discuss the inventions at another time," announced the +spinster, recovering from her astonishment. "I'll be upstairs, +Kathleen, if you want me." + +"Wait, I'm coming," but Foster turned on the threshold of the door, his +curiosity mastering him. "There's just one question, Miss Kathleen; if +you knew Karl von Mueller in Germany and, as you thought, met him here +using the name of Charles Miller, why did you not at once conclude he was +a German spy?" + +"Because a year ago a school friend in Germany wrote me that Karl had +disappeared after a duel, and she believed he was living in America under +an assumed name," replied Kathleen, rising hurriedly. "Under those +circumstances I thought it natural that he should have anglicized his +name. Won't you stop--?" + +"No, thanks," hastily. "I must see Kiametia. Good-night," and he +disappeared into the hall. Miss Kiametia was talking to a white-capped +nurse, who continued on her way upstairs on Foster's approach. + +"Winslow has regained consciousness," announced Miss Kiametia, "and is +sleeping naturally at last." + +"I am delighted to hear it." Foster's tired face lighted with pleasure. +"Shall I tell Kathleen?" + +"No, not just yet; good news will keep, and I think she is entitled to +the happiness of being with the man she loves." + +"Do you never crave for that happiness, Kiametia?" and there was a +wistful tenderness in his voice which made the spinster blink +suspiciously. Suddenly she slipped her hand in his. + +"Suppose I say yes, for a change," she whispered, burying her head on his +shoulder, and with a thankful heart Foster held her close as he whispered +tender, soothing words in her ear. + +Neither Kathleen nor Miller cared to break the silence which prevailed +after Foster's departure. Julie had slipped away at the same time. The +pause became embarrassing, and in desperation Miller broke it. + +"Kathleen, can you ever forgive me?" standing tall and straight before +her. "I acted what seems now a contemptible part--but I had to know whom +you were protecting, whom you suspected of killing Spencer--I +thought--forgive me--your father guilty. Until you said last night that +you were shielding me, I had no idea of such a possibility; then I jumped +to the conclusion that you had seen me in this house on Tuesday night, +and imagined you were the person creeping up to the attic. Then, +then--God help me!--came the idea that German gold had corrupted you, +also. I put you to a severe test; but I wanted my doubts that you might +be in German pay absolutely refuted. Even when I threatened, you stood +firm." He drew in his breath sharply. "You will never know how I admired +you and hated myself." + +She answered with a question. "How did you know of my friendship with +your cousin, Karl?" + +"We have always been confidentially intimate. In a moment of remorse he +wrote me about you, telling me of your elopement, and stating that he +took you to a village removed from a railroad for the wedding, and there +found the priest too ill in bed to perform the ceremony; he confessed +that he got drunk, lost his head, and--and--suggested that you dispense +with the marriage ceremony." + +Kathleen crimsoned to the roots of her hair. "Did he tell you that I +indignantly refused, escaped from him, and started out to walk to the +nearest railroad station. There I met John Hargraves, told him of my +elopement, then accompanied him to the hotel in the next town where his +cousin was stopping and spent the night with her, returning next day +under her escort to the school. She explained to the principal that I had +been visiting her, and smoothed over what promised to be a scandal." + +"Yes, Karl wrote me of that also, but he did you the tardy justice of +never mentioning your full name. When I met you at Chevy Chase I +realized suddenly that you had mistaken me for him and--" Miller +hesitated for a brief second--"I followed the game. Kathleen," his +hitherto clear voice faltered, "I followed it to my own undoing. Each +time that you repulsed me, you inspired me--first, with admiration; +then, all unbidden, came love--love, so faithful and unswerving that not +even the toils of treachery and false witness which threatened to +envelope you, could alter it." He hesitated again, his face white and +strained. "Tell me frankly, Kathleen, did you accept me on Tuesday only +because you thought me Karl?" + +"No." Kathleen's face was rosy with color and her eyes shone with a new +radiance. Eagerly Miller clasped her hands and, bending his head, kissed +them. "Whatever schoolgirl affection I cherished for Karl was long since +dead before I met you. To you alone I gave my heart." + +"My love, my love," he murmured softly. "May God aid me to atone to +you for the sorrow of the past!" and looking up into his eyes, as his +arms stole round her, Kathleen read there that the glory of life was +hers at last. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of I Spy, by Natalie Sumner Lincoln + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK I SPY *** + +This file should be named 8ispy10.txt or 8ispy10.zip +Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks get a new NUMBER, 8ispy11.txt +VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, 8ispy10a.txt + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Mary Meehan +and PG Distributed Proofreaders + +Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US +unless a copyright notice is included. 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