Chapter III

James Tierney, incorporated, was going through his mail, the only task of the day he hated. He had passed through a half hour of agony and little beads of perspiration spangled his brow when he picked up a bulky letter in a monogrammed envelope. He opened it and spelled it out slowly:

"NEW YORK, May 15, 1912.

James Tierney, Incorporated, Triple Syndicate Building:

My dear Mr. Tierney--As instructed, I make a report on the case of Miss Ione Phillips. By your authority I have rented a seventy-horsepower runabout--$300 a week. This includes garage and supplies. I have also taken a small apartment in the Buxom Arms on Fifth Avenue, near the Phillips home, $400 for the first month. For wardrobe, living expenses and so on I have expended this week $260.

On last Wednesday I followed Miss Phillips in my car. The chauffeur took her across the 129th street ferry to New Jersey. Near Clinton Point on the Palisades the car was stopped and Miss Phillips and the chauffeur left it. They made themselves comfortable beside a break in a boscage--

Tierney pressed a button and shouted:

"Nellie! Nellie Regan!"

His stenographer dashed into the room, pad in hand.

"Bring the little book," shouted Tierney in agitation.

She rushed back to her desk and returned immediately with a cheap edition of Webster's dictionary.

He pointed out the word "boscage" to her.

"Look it up quick," he ordered. "I dunno what it is but it sounds fierce. Them two young people might be dead by now."

Miss Regan flipped the leaves of the book and finally read:

"Boscage, a wooded nook."

"Ah," sighed Tierney, "that'll do. I thought it was some sort of a swamp." He continued reading the letter:

"While in this sylvan retreat the young people lost no time in indulging in passionate osculation--"

"Woops, my dear!" shouted Tierney, pressing the button and yelling for Nellie once more.

"Gimme that book again and beat it out of here," he ordered. "None of this Eleanor Glyn stuff for you."

He delved into the volume.

"Osculation," he read, "kissing; close contact."

He threw the book into a far corner of the room, mopped his brow and returned to the letter:

I interrupted them on the pretext of having lost my way and got them started back to Manhattan. It is evident the chauffeur and Miss Phillips are in love and expect to elope.

By careful inquiry I have learned that Angelo, the chauffeur, is a skilled aviator and that he has a two passenger biplane in a big barn over in Bergen county, New Jersey. Miss Phillips is enthusiastic about flying. They may use the biplane for the elopement.

I ran down to Hempstead, Long Island, yesterday and bought the best monoplane to be found in the hangars. It was a bargain, only $3,800. It has high speed and a big fuel tank. It is warranted to fly 260 miles. I have had it shipped over to Jersey and placed in a barn less than a quarter of a mile from Angelo's machine. Very sincerely,

WILLIAM WINTHROP.

P.S.--The Italian cruiser _Il Vincitore_ is due in the harbor the first of next week. She is to take on several aviators and American machines for use in the Turkish war. Angelo is very patriotic and he may take a job killing Turks from the air. The cruiser has a deck for launching and receiving air machines."

Tierney read the postcript a second time. "I got his number," he said slowly. "I got it right in my back pocket. He is going to buy a warship and charge it to Tierney."

He played a fandango on the row of buttons on his desk and called aloud for Reilley. "Reilley," he said when his aide poked his head in the door, "I want to ask yuh where yuh got that pretty little boy yuh call Boston Willie?"

"Advertised f'r a college graduate," was Reilley's reply.

"Did he have any references?"

"A wagonload."

"Read 'em?"

"Naw."

"Bring 'em here and deal me about five. I wanta see how my luck is running."

Reilley got the letters of recommendation and reference presented him by Willie.

One was from a friend of Tierney in the United States Secret Service. In effect it said that Willie was just out of college and was hunting excitement. He had handled two cases for the government and had handled them well. "He is afraid of nothing on earth or in the air," wrote Tierney's friend. "His only weak point is his disregard for money. He spends freely."

"What got your goat, Jim!" asked Reilley.

"O, the Angora is all right now," sighed Tierney. "I thought I was being bunked. I'm glad to hear he gets what he goes after. The only thing to worry about is this one sentence, 'He spends freely.' Of course Mr. Phillips is a rich man, but if I send him a bill for a new navy to be used entirely by Willie he might peeve."

"A navy?" asked Reilley.

"Yes," replied Tierney. "He's got a seventy-horsepower car, a suite of rooms on the Avener, an airship and, I'll bet, at least forty new little hats and a hundred new little walking sticks. But I told him to get what he wanted."

"But if he sidetracks the gir-rl into marrying a duke or a count it will be all right, won't it, Jim?"

"It will, Mickey," Tierney replied, "but his first report is that last Wednesday he finds the lovers osculatin' in a boskidge over in Jersey."

"Cripes, that's somethin' fierce," said Reilley.

"Yes," mused his chief. "Willie has got to get busy pretty quick or Old Man Phillips will find himself with a wop-in-law on his hands."