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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of I Spy, by Natalie Sumner Lincoln
+
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+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 ***
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of I Spy, by Natalie Sumner Lincoln
+
+Copyright laws are changing all over the world. Be sure to check the
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+*****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 ***
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