Chapter VIII: Part 8

"Let her go," said Jack. "I'm good for it."

A short turn through a lane brought them to another main highway.

"Belair Road," said the chauffeur, "main road to the North."

"Have you a full tank?" asked Jack.

He nodded.

"Follow them to New York then if necessary!"

On this dark road the occupants of the touring car soon discovered that they were being followed. They put on speed.

"Give her all she'll take," said Jack.

Fortunately the taxi was of a good make, and the engine was tight and clean. The little car gave a good account of itself. Moreover the road was smoothly paved, which further helped equalize the chances of light car and heavy one. Pursued and pursuer roared down the dark highway with cut-outs open. For several miles the way lay over one steep hill after another. They precipitated themselves recklessly down each declivity, gaining a momentum at the bottom that carried them almost to the top again without slackening.

"This is faster than I'm allowed to run her," said Jack's chauffeur.

"That's all right. I'll be responsible for the damage."

The man grinned and stepped a little harder on his accelerator.

At first the big Macklin car set up a pace they were unable to match, but apparently the driver was unfamiliar with the road, and after he had narrowly escaped flinging his car in the ditch on several sharp turns, he was compelled to slow down somewhat. This gave them an even chance. They kept about a hundred feet behind the red eye of the tail-light ahead.

"We're holding them all right," said Jack's chauffeur.

The words were scarcely out of his mouth when there came a report like a small field piece beneath them.

"Damn that tire!" cried the man.

"There goes Bobo's last chance of salvation!" said Jack.

The blow-out had been heard in the car ahead. They swept out of sight around a bend tooting their horn triumphantly.

It took them the usual half an hour to change tires.

"Back to town I suppose," said the driver when he was ready to start again.

"No!" said Jack. "They might blow up a tire, too. Keep on!"

In a village called Kingsville they stopped long enough to make sure that the Macklin car was still ahead of them. At the next place, Belair, they came upon it resting demurely in front of a dwelling. Since there was a church next door, it was not difficult to guess that this house was a parsonage.

"I thought so," said Jack grimly.

He jumped out and rang the bell. When the door was opened by a maid there was no need for him to make any inquiry. Through an open archway he could see into the living-room of the house. Bobo and Miriam were standing hand in hand before the parson with his book. Even as Jack looked, he finished pronouncing the benediction, and the couple turned around. Miriam had evidently left her woeful headgear in the car outside. She was wearing the dashing green hat again.

Jack, forgetting for the moment that he was disguised, stepped into the room. Bobo did not know him, but Miriam did. Her face lighted up with a wicked triumph.

"What a pity you were late!" she said with mocking sweetness, "I would so much have liked you to be present!"

"What--who--who's this?" stammered Bobo.

"This is Jack. All dressed up! Don't you recognize his beautiful eyes?"

Bobo saw that it was Jack, turned pale, and looked furtively about him for a way out, in case things went suddenly against him.

"Be the first to congratulate me," said Miriam to Jack. "Most of all I want to hear it from you."

Poor Bobo in his skin-tight uniform was an absurd figure of a bridegroom. With humble eyes, he was mutely imploring Jack not to give him away.

Jack had no intention of doing so. Knowing himself to be the real master of the situation, he could well afford to put up with the girl's outrageous triumphant air.

Jack's smile irritated her. She lost her joyful look. The commoner aspect of her broke through. "I'm Mrs. Norman," she said with a disagreeable laugh. She displayed her wedding-ring. "You can't get around that! Remember it, the next time you start out to get the better of me."

"Miriam, for God's sake, don't provoke him!" whispered poor Bobo.

"Provoke him!" she said, raising her voice. "You seem strangely afraid of hurting the feelings of your secretary. He needs to be provoked. He's too big for his shoes! Let him understand that I'm the mistress now, and his chance of keeping his job depends on his pleasing me!"

Bobo almost fainted.

Jack met her eyes squarely. "All right, my lady!" he was thinking. "My turn will come later!" He foresaw that his game in the future would be furthered if he appeared to submit. So he bowed--but he could not quite iron out the mocking smile.

"I only aim to please!" said he.

Miriam looked at him suspiciously.

"What do you wish me to do, Mr. Norman?" he asked Bobo.

To that youth it was like a ray of light breaking through. He lifted his eyes to Jack with a kind of sheeplike gratitude. But he seemed incapable of speech.

Miriam answered for him. "Go back to New York, and wait for us at the Madagascar."

Jack bowed again, and returned to his taxi.

29

Jack returned to New York on the night train. At the hotel he found a message from Starr of the Bienvenu Hotel reading:

"A.D.T. boy 791 came with a package for Miss Culbreth to-day. When he was told she was out of town he took it back with him."

Jack's police credentials smoothed the way for him with the A.D.T. officials, and within two hours of the time he received the message, No. 791, otherwise Tommy Mullulus, was on his way to the Madagascar to be questioned.

He was a small, thin boy with a wary eye that testified to a wide experience of the world, and an insinuating grin that was still childlike. His meager limbs were lost in his faded, flapping trousers, but he had a doughty air far beyond his years. His official age was fifteen; had he not to swear to that to get his "working papers"? But actually he was about two years short of it.

He was disposed to be evasive in answering Jack's questions.

"You brought a package to the Hotel Bienvenu yesterday?"

"Yes, sir."

"Where did you get it?"

"At the office. Fella at the desk handed it to me."

"That means it was brought into the office by the person who wanted it delivered?"

"I guess so."

"Where is your office?"

"1118 Broadway."

"Did you see the person that brought the package in?"

"Didn't take no particular notice."

"Well, was it a man or a woman?"

"I didn't rightly look."

"Isn't it a fact when you boys are waiting for a call, that you size up everybody that comes in to see what kind of a job you're going to get, and what's likely to be in it?"

"We gen'ally does," said Tommy with an innocent air, "but Fat Harris was pushin' me on the bench, and I was pushin' him back, so I didn't take no notice of who come in."

It suggested itself to Jack that the boy was under the spell of a generous tip. To offer him a larger tip was the most obvious course, but Jack, knowing something about boys, hesitated. Tommy would take the money, of course, but it would probably make him suspicious, and therefore more secretive than before. A better way was to win his confidence if it could be done.

"Tommy," said Jack, "the guy that gave you that package is a crook, and I'm trying to land him, see?"

Tommy looked interested but wary. He required to be shown.

"Did they tell you at the office who I was?" asked Jack.

"No more than your name was Robinson."

"Did you ever hear of John Farrow Norman?"

"The poor boy that came in for a hundred million! You bet!"

"Well, I work for him. I'm his secretary."

A noiseless whistle escaped through Tommy's lips. But he still looked a little incredulous.

"You can find that out at the office on your way out," suggested Jack.

Tommy looked impressed by this evidence of good faith. "Say, boss, can I see him himself--Norman I mean?"

"He's out of town to-day. But you'll see him all the time if you work for me."

Tommy was melting fast. "On the level, do you want me to work for you?"

"Surest thing you know!"

"What doing?"

"Oh, just a little detective work," said Jack carelessly.

Tommy was won. "Oh-h! Detective work! That's my specialty!"

"The man who sent that package to the Bienvenu Hotel is trying to blackmail Mr. Norman," said Jack. "We've got to catch him with the goods."

Tommy nodded sagely.

"See if you can't remember what he looked like. Was he a middle-aged man short and thickset, well-dressed, but not sporty, heavy white moustache, and little chin whisker?"

"Sure!" cried Tommy. "That's the very guy! I remember now."

"Well, give me some further particulars then," said Jack to test him.

Tommy considered. "His hair was brushed in a funny way, sticking out like, in front of his ears."

"That's our man!" said Jack. "Has he ever been in your office before?"

"Yes, once in a while. He's a guy you'd remember. Gives big tips."

"When you couldn't deliver that package at the Bienvenu what did you do with it?"

"Handed it in at the office again."

"Then what happened to it?"

"It's there yet. They couldn't return it to sender because he didn't leave no address."

"You're sure he hasn't been after it himself?"

"Not up to the time I left. Us boys watches for that guy."

"Thought you said you couldn't remember him."

"Well, I didn't know which side was on the square then," said Tommy unabashed.

"Good! I'm sure he will come after it, and I want you to go back to the office and watch for him. When he does come in, see if you're clever enough to trail him back to his home or his office, or wherever it is he goes, see?"

"How can I sneak out without orders from the desk?" objected Tommy. "And supposin' I'm out on another call when he comes in?"

"You can leave that to me," said Jack. "From now on you're working for me, and you won't take any other calls, see? I'll have an order sent through from the head office to your branch. But mind you, not a word to any of the other kids!"

"That's all right, boss," said the diminutive sleuth with dignity. "I know a thing or two about this biz. I can easy stall off those pore fish down there."

"Here's something on account," said Jack offering him a dollar bill. "As to your final payment I'll just say this: if you and I pull this off together, I'll offer you a permanent job with Mr. Norman."

"Me workin' for Norman himself! Gee!" said Tommy.

30

A few hours later the bridal couple turned up at the Madagascar. Miriam was beautiful and beautifully dressed, but feeling sure of her position now, she made no attempt to curb her arrogance. She believed that she owned the Madagascar and acted accordingly. The hotel servants cringed--and detested her. Bobo was correspondingly depressed and anxious-looking.

Their unannounced arrival hardly surprised Jack. He was in expectation of a call for funds.

Miriam immediately demanded to be shown through the suite. "So that I can choose which rooms I will take."

Jack, amused by the comedy, accompanied her and Bobo on the tour of inspection. Jack's room, the next room but one to the Dutch room, seemed to please her most. Perhaps it was because she knew it was Jack's room.

"I'll take this for my bedroom," she said, "but the furniture is ghastly. It will have to be completely done over. Bobo's room shall be my boudoir."

Bobo glanced anxiously at Jack. "You can have my room of course," he said quickly. "But this is Jack's room."

It seemed as if she had just been lying in wait for him to say something like this. She whirled on him. "Well, and am I supposed to give way to your secretary? If you're willing to give up the best rooms to the servants I'm not!"

"Miriam is right," said Jack. "I'll move into the two little rooms at the back; Silas Gyde's old suite."

"Hereafter please address me as Mrs. Norman," said Miriam haughtily.

"Certainly, Mrs. Norman," said Jack demurely. To himself he added: "Oh, lady, lady, it's a shame to let you in so bad! When the truth come out the shock will surely kill you!"

"And while we are away," added Miriam, "go to a first class decorator, and arrange to have my two rooms done. I will have the boudoir hung in pale yellow silk brocade, and the bedroom in a softer material, pink. Samples can be sent me."

Jack bowed. "You're going away again?" he asked politely.

"Oh, yes, Bobo just came in to get some money."

Bobo bent an imploring glance on him.

Jack had his things carried into the back rooms, and put all in order there.

"Thank God! I can escape the sound of her voice!" he said to himself. "Where, oh where is that sweet murmur with which she used to woo us! Bobo's awakening has come even sooner than I expected. She might have given him a few days' run for his money. What a story this will make to tell Kate later. But the poor fat kid is in such a deuce of a hole it really spoils the comedy!"

Presently Bobo applied at the door of Jack's sitting-room with a pitiful hang-dog air.

"Come in!" said Jack cheerfully.

Bobo shambled in, and flung himself in a chair. "Don't bawl me out!" he said beseechingly. "I'm just about all in!"

"I'm not going to say much," returned Jack. "But I'm only human. You can't expect me to keep my mouth shut altogether."

"I wish I were dead!" said Bobo.

"Cheer up, the worst is yet to come! There's good comedy in it, I assure you. I'll give you a piece of good advice if you like."

"What is it?"

"Well, when a wife takes that highty-tighty tone towards her husband they say there's only one remedy."

"What's that?"

"Corporal punishment," said Jack, grinning.

"Eh?" said Bobo, staring.

"I believe the English law allows a man a rod no thicker than his thumb for the purpose of maintaining domestic discipline."

Bobo refused to see the joke. He sat in silence with his chin on his breast.

"I suppose you're waiting for money," said Jack.

Bobo nodded.

"I don't want to rub it in, but I'm curious to know if you appreciate the colossal cheek of your coming to me for money after what has happened?"

Bobo nodded again. "What else could I do?"

"I shouldn't be surprised if part of it was actually for the purpose of settling with the man who helped you to disobey my orders."

"Miriam fixed that up by wireless."

"Then I might suggest that it's up to her to settle with the man. You told me Miriam was well-fixed, you know."

"Something has happened," said Bobo. "We went to the Bienvenu before coming here. Some one called her up there. She wouldn't let me hear what she said. She was sore afterwards. Seems her income is cut off or something."

"That's not hard to guess," said Jack. "The old man told her that now she's got you, she can afford to dispense with his weekly contribution."

"Do you really think she's in his pay?"

"Oh, let's don't go into that again."

"Good Lord! What will become of me!" groaned Bobo. "I've got to show her the color of my money, or she'll worm the truth out of me!"

"You'll never tell her the truth. She'd kill you."

"She'll guess the truth, if I don't keep her supplied!"

"You should have thought of that yesterday."

"Don't be so hard on me!" whined Bobo. "What's the money to you!"

Jack felt slightly disgusted. "I'm going to keep you supplied," he said, "within reason. But you'll have to keep that young lady inside the limits that I set. I've no intention of maintaining her like the Queen of Sheba. Tell her your money's in the hands of trustees. Tell her anything you like."

"How much?" said Bobo anxiously.

"Five thousand for the honeymoon. After that a thousand weekly. Not another cent."

"I've got to have the limousine," whined Bobo.

Jack's lip curled. "You're not exactly in a position to make demands. However, you can have the car. It's no good to me."

Bobo commenced to stammer his thanks.

"Cut it out!" said Jack. "I'm only doing it, because it happens to suit my plans. You have disobeyed my orders, and forfeited all claims on me. I reserve the right of course, to show you up whenever it suits me."

Bobo lived in the present. Seeing his immediate needs relieved, he refused to consider the unpleasant future. His eye brightened as Jack went to write him a check.

31

This was the night of the weekly meeting of the Friends of Freedom, Barbarossa's circle, of which Jack was now a full member. On his way to the meeting-place he stopped in at Harmon Evers' place according to custom, to be metamorphosed from Jack Robinson into Henry Cassels, the wild-haired young anarchist.

Jack enjoyed these visits to the wig-maker. Evers was an original. His philosophy never failed him--nor his common-sense. He was so conspicuous for the latter quality that Jack more than once had been tempted to confide in him fully, with the idea of profiting by his advice. It was only the general rule he had laid down for himself, not to tell a soul of his affairs, that had restrained him. As it was, he and Evers had talked over the situation in hypothetical terms. Evers never allowed himself to betray a vulgar curiosity.

Evers' wit and wisdom were usually expressed in terms of hair. His special knowledge was astonishing. He could tell you offhand the style of hairdressing favored by a great man at any stage of his career, and drew ingenious parallels between his hair and his policy. Napoleon's downfall he ascribed to the atrophy of his follicles.

As it was after shop-hours the work was done in Evers' apartment up-stairs, a model of neatness and comfort. Clearly Mrs. Evers' past triumphs on the boards had not unfitted her for the soberer business of housekeeping. Though they showed every evidence of being well-to-do they kept no servant.

"So to-night is lodge-night," said Evers facetiously, as he worked over Jack's hair. "Odd isn't it, how grown men love to club together and surround themselves with all manner of solemn nonsense. The original lodges were in the African jungle. The high officers in secret societies are nearly always bald. Yet hair plays a large part in many rituals. Consider the goat!"

"This is not exactly a lodge that I belong to," said Jack.

"I understand," said Evers. "That was just my little joke. I guess the risks you take, my young friend, and I admire your courage. You have the hair of a brave man. I am always delighted when you return to me in safety to have the make-up removed. It is a valuable work you are engaged on, too. These people are the weeds of our fertile soil; they should be rooted up."

"As to rooting them up I leave that to the police," said Jack carelessly. "I have a special object in view. There are worse things in the world than a lot of spouting anarchists."

"What could be worse?"

"Well, murder as a business proposition."

"Good Heavens! Can such things be possible!"

The meeting-place of the Friends of Freedom was very ingeniously contrived. You entered by the front door of a big double-decker tenement on Orchard street. So many people came and went by this door, that the arrival of the Reds singly and in couples was entirely unnoticed. You passed through the hall of the double-decker into a narrow paved court where a smaller rear tenement faced you.

Entering the latter building, you gave the password at a door on the left of the hall, and assembled with your fellow-members in a large bare room. But this was not the meeting-place. When all were present, and the scrutineers were satisfied, that all had a right to be present, the hall door was locked, a trap in the floor was lifted, and all present silently descended into the cellar. The last man let the trap fall behind him.

Though damp and moldy-smelling, the place was otherwise admirably fitted for its purpose. The walls were of thick rough stone without any openings. A special ceiling had been constructed to keep sounds from rising. In such a vault the speakers could shout themselves hoarse without any danger of giving anything away to the outside world. It is no easy task to find a safe meeting-place for anarchists. In this case the landlord was a member of the circle.

There was another stairway at the rear by which Barbarossa alone was privileged to enter. Jack understood that this stair led to a room in an adjoining house, whence you could gain the next street. It provided a means of escape in case of a surprise from the police.

It was a wild-looking crowd that gathered in the cellar. They specialized in original hirsute effects. Evers the wig-maker could have obtained many new ideas there. But Jack had not attended many meetings before he began to suspect that their wildness did not extend much further than hair. They were noisy, but not particularly dangerous. They seemed to Jack like a parcel of children making believe to be enemies of society. Some of the younger men spoke with a genuine fire, but they were generally squelched by their elders. These elders stood as pat on their formulas as an old guard Republican on his.

This was particularly true of Barbarossa their leader. Anarchy was Barbarossa's meal-ticket, and he worked it for all there was in it. Barbarossa's superb red beard and flaming aureole of hair were his principal stock in trade. He made a magnificent passionate figure on the rostrum. Every word he uttered was received as gospel, for loyalty to him had become a tradition. But to Jack who came to the meetings with a cool brain, Barbarossa's eloquence seemed a pumped-up affair.

To-night the proceedings were held up for ten minutes by the tardy arrival of a member Jack had not seen before, who had sent word in advance of his coming. This was an important man, Jack was told, too busy to attend every meeting. He proved to be a man in his forties, somewhat corpulent, with smooth jetty black hair and small moustache and the clear, pallid skin that goes with such hair. Unlike the others he affected the neat style of a business man. He was addressed as Comrade Wilde.

Jack apprehended a new quality in this man, a more dangerous quality than in any of the others. He watched him closely. Unfortunately the place was none too well lighted. Comrade Wilde held whispered conferences with different members, but took no part in the speechmaking.

Barbarossa harangued the gathering in fiery style on the subject of the iniquities of the Federal Reserve Banking system. Comrade Rado then arose and proposed that the New York branch be blown up as a protest. Barbarossa rebuked him for making such a suggestion in open meeting. It appeared there was a committee to act on such matters. Somebody said something about a "Star Chamber" and a violent dispute was engendered. It was thus at every meeting. Jack suspected Barbarossa of purposely throwing the meeting into disorder. Acts of violence threatened his livelihood. Comrade Wilde listened to the uproar with an ill-disguised sneer.

It was stilled by the speech of Comrade Berg, a mere slip of a youth whom Jack had not noticed before. He rose with trembling hands and ecstatic eyes, and spoke in a voice of soft intensity. His subject was the necessity of purifying themselves for the great sacrifice. The words were not extraordinary; it was the self-forgetfulness, the strange half-insane passion of the speaker that quieted the noisy, ordinary crowd.

"Hello!" thought Jack. "This is the real thing! This will bear watching." Out of the corner of his eyes he observed that Comrade Wilde was likewise attending sharply to the youth.

His speech bore no relation to what had gone before. He had reached such a state of exaltation as to be unaware of what was going on around him.

"We must give up father, mother, dear ones, friends; we must learn to do without love and affection; we must cast out all that makes life sweet to live, so that when the time comes to leave it there may be no unmanly hanging back. We must eat and drink no more than enough to keep life in the body. The world will never be saved by guzzlers. Gross eating obscures the finer spirit of man. In abstemiousness and solitude the true inspiration comes.

"I am young. I have no right to tell men older in the Cause what to do. I am speaking for myself only. I lived alone until the message came to me. I am ready now to give all. When you want an instrument I ask you to use me first."

Barbarossa had been growing more and more uneasy. He now interrupted the youth. "One moment, Comrade. You are out of order. There is some unfinished business from the last meeting. Afterwards we will be glad to hear you. The question that was held over to be put to the vote at this meeting is: Shall we take political action at the next election."

This was a favorite subject of controversy, and the meeting was instantly convulsed again. Berg sat down dazed. He was not allowed to speak again.

"Poor young devil!" thought Jack. "Looks half starved. I'll ask him out to supper."

When they were completely talked out the meeting broke up. The comrades mounted the stairs in amity all controversies forgotten. With their bosoms relieved of much perilous stuff, they yawned comfortably, and began to think of supper.

Jack attached himself to young Berg as they gained the street. "Say, that was a great speech," he said by way of ingratiating himself.

The youth pushed the lank hair out of his eyes and looked at Jack wildly. The light of incipient madness was in his eyes.

"Poor devil! Poor devil!" thought Jack. The sight hurt him. Aloud he said: "Let's go and have a bite of supper."

Berg shook his head.

"Oh, _come on_!" said Jack thrusting his arm through the other youth's.

The tone of genuine friendliness must have reached the cold breast. Berg gave in without further objection.

They entered one of the big bakery-restaurants on Grand street, and ordered coffee and hamburgers. The smell of cooking brought a faint color into Berg's livid cheeks, and his nostrils dilated.

But the hamburgers were not destined to be eaten by them. When he had given the order Jack went into a booth to telephone Evers not to wait up for him, as he could lodge outside in his disguise and come in to change in the morning. Mrs. Evers took the message. When he came out of the booth Berg had left their table.

"Where did my friend go?" Jack asked the waiter.

"I dunno. Guy come in and spoke to him private, and he took his hat and went with him."

"What kind of looking guy?"

"Fat. Real black hair, black moustache, pale face. Dressed neat. Derby and black Melton overcoat."

This was a good description of Comrade Wilde.

"Oh, Damn!" muttered Jack.

He put down the money for what he had ordered and left the place. He spent three hours wandering about the East Side, looking into such places as were still open, on the bare chance of running into his man. All in vain of course. Finally he sought out a cheap lodging and threw himself down exhausted. He was tormented by the sense of an impending disaster.

32

In the morning Jack called up the Madagascar to see if there was any message for him. It appeared that some one had telephoned him several times since the night before. No name had been left, but the telephone number was given.

The number suggested nothing to Jack. He called it, and a voice strange to him answered. He asked if there was anyone there who wished to speak to Mr. Robinson, and after a pause he heard another voice, a squeaky treble.

"This Mr. Robinson? Gee! I thought I'd never get hold of you!"

"Who is it?"

"Whitcomb. You know."

"Whitcomb? I don't know," said Jack perplexed.

"You know, your confidential agent that you gave orders to yesterday."

A light broke on Jack. "Sure!" he cried. "Didn't recognize the name."

"Well you never know who may be tapping the wire."

"Very wise precaution. What is it, Tommy--I mean Whitcomb?"

"I got a report to make."

"Fire away."

"Can't tell you over the phone. It's too important. Say, Mr. Robinson, I got what you sent me after all right."

"Good boy!"

"Want me to come to the hotel?"

Jack not knowing if Bobo and Miriam would be out of the way, said "No." He considered a moment. "Meet me at Harmon Evers' shop, number -- East Twenty-Ninth street. In half an hour."

The half hour gave Jack time to get to Evers' and change his make-up. It was not yet eight o'clock.

Evers evinced a strong interest in Tommy when he arrived. "Comical little fellow, isn't he?" he said. "That wiry, blonde hair betokens an enterprising character. These boys of the street learn to think for themselves early."

Tommy and Jack did not discuss their business of course, until they had left the shop. Outside Jack said:

"Do you mean to say you have spotted the house where the old man lives?"

"Not where he lives, but where he changes his clothes."

"Good man! Where is it?"

"Forty-Eighth street, near Seventh avenue."

"We'll go there," said Jack, and looked up and down for a taxi-cab. "You can tell me the whole story on the way. We'll stop at the Madagascar for a gun and a pair of handcuffs in case we meet our friend."

When they were seated in the cab Tommy began his story. "I was thinking over everything you told me, and it seemed to me I wouldn't have a very good show to trail the old man by myself. Maybe he knew my face you see, and anyway the uniform was a give away. So I got my cousin to help me. He ain't working now. He's bigger'n me. We're going partners in the detective business when we get the coin to open up an office."

"I described him the man I was after, and placed him acrost the street from the office, with instructions to follow me if I come up, and pick up the trail if I had to drop it."

"Well, about half past two yes'day, old man come into the office for his package all right. Soon as I see him I slides out and waits for him outside. Say he was cagy all right. He had a hunch he was being trailed. Dodged in one door of the Knickerbocker and out again by another. In the Forty-Second street building he tried to shake me by riding in different elevators, but I stuck to him all right. Me cousin was right there too, with his tongue hanging out."

"He took to the Subway next. Got on an up-town local at Grand Central. I got in the next car because I thought he might reco'nize me, but me cousin sits down right opposite him. Well after we left Times Square station he comes into my car, gives me a hard look, and sits down beside me. Say, me heart was going like a compressed air riveter."

"He says to me: 'Don't you work at 1118 Broadway?' and I says: 'Yes, sir.' He says: 'I guess you worked for me sometimes,' and I looks at him hard and makes out to reco'nize him for the first, and says: 'Yes, sir.' He says: 'You carried a little package for me up to the Hotel Beanvenoo yes'day.' I says: 'Yes, sir. The lady was out, so I brung it back.'"

"'Hm!' says he, like that, and looks at me real hard for a minute, I guess. He's got blue eyes that make holes in you like bay'nits. But he didn't get any change off a me. Then he says real sudden-like: 'Has anybody been trying to fix you?' 'Why no sir!' I says with a baby stare. 'I dunno what you mean.'"

"'Where you going now?' says he. I hadda say somepin real quick. I says: 'I gotta deliver a letter up-town.' 'Where?' 'Seventy-Second street.' He says: 'Let me see it.' I says: ''Gainst the rules, boss.' He laughs sneery like."

"By this time the train was pulling into Fiftieth. 'Well I get out here' he says, sticking me with those eyes again. And there he left me flat. What could I do. But I look and I see me cousin is hep, so I know all ain't lost yet. As the train pulls out I see that kid foller him up the stairs."

"Well I chases home, and changes me clo'es. I puts on the toughest rig I got. Then I went down to Mis' Harvest's store and waited 'round. Mis' Harvest keeps a little candy and stationery store under my house. Me cousin and me, we never plague her like the other kids does, and she lets us sort of stick around. We use her phone in our business. We had agreed if we got separated, the one who lost the trail was to go to Mis' Harvest's and wait for a call."

"Me cousin calls me up about four o'clock. He says the old man is sitting in the Knickerbocker bar, drinking and talking to a feller, and if I hustle maybe I can git there before he leaves. Well, I meets me cousin outside the door of the bar, and he says the old man is still inside. He patrols the Broadway side, and I takes the Forty-Second street entrance, and we meet at the corner, and exchange signals.

"Bye and bye old man comes out my cousin's door, and the two of us take after him down Broadway. At Fortieth street, old man turns real sudden and grabs hold me cousin. There was a cop there. Old man says: 'Officer, this boy has been follerin' me all afternoon!' Cop takes a grip on me cousin; say, maybe that kid wasn't scared! Cop says: 'What do you want to annoy this gen'leman for?' but me cousin was mum as a dummy! Cop says: 'Do you want to lay 'a complaint, sir?' Old man says: 'Haven't time. Just warn him, and let him go.' So the cop boots me cousin down the side street, and old man goes on down Broadway. But I was right there steppin' on his heels. He never thought of looking at me in me old clothes."

"Well now he thought he was clear of us all, and he didn't bother about coverin' his tracks no more. He crosses Broadway, and comes back tutter side. He only made one stop. That was in a cigar store. He telephoned from the booth. Then he led me straight to the house on 48th near 7th, an old private house it was, that's been turned into stores and offices. There was no elevator nor nothing.

"I couldn't foller him inside, so I waits acrost the street. He come out in half an hour. Say, I almost missed him then. He's a rapid change artist for fair! Had a big trust on him now----"

"Trust?" interrupted Jack.

"You know, corporation, bow-window----" Tommy illustrated.

"I see, go on."

"But he looked twenty years younger. Real black hair now, little black moustache, white face--like a dude Eyetalian. Had a neat derby on, and black overcoat."

"Good God!" cried Jack. "Comrade Wilde! You're sure it was the same man."

"Certain sure! But it was a peach of a make-up. I wouldn't of got on to it, only he didn't walk like a fat man. He didn't lean back far enough to balance his load if it was bona-fide."

"Pretty good!" said Jack. "I never thought of that."

"Well, I took after him again, but he give me the slip at Sixth Avenue. There was a car waiting for him there--big black limousine----"

"I know it!" said Jack ruefully.

"He hopped it, and went off down-town. There was a taxi there too, but the shover only laughed at me, when I wanted to hire him. By the time I satisfied him I had the price, the black car was out of sight."

"I went back to the house on Forty-eighth. There's a lady's hat store in the basement, and a beauty parlor on the first floor. Up-stairs is mixed offices and unfurnished rooms. It's one of those old style walk-up houses that you can go in and out of, without being noticed. I made out to be looking for a Mr. Webster. By asking round I found out the old man has the third floor rear. There's no sign on the door nor nothing. The other tenants thinks it's a traveler that just keeps his samples there. None of them don't know him."

33

With a brief stop at the Madagascar for the purpose mentioned, Jack and his diminutive assistant were carried to the house on Forty-Eighth street. Tommy led the way to the third floor rear. Above the parlor floor no changes had been made in the old-fashioned residence, beyond letting a few panes of glass in the door panels to light the hall. But the door Tommy indicated was of the original solid wood. Jack knocked without receiving any answer. There was no sound of any movement within.

Jack had made up his mind that the boldest way of entering would be the simplest. He therefore sent Tommy in search of a locksmith while he remained silently on guard in the hall. When the workman appeared Jack explained that he had inadvertently locked his keys in his room, and instructed him to pick the lock. When the man set to work, Jack privately dispatched Tommy down into the yard to keep an eye on the rear windows.

Opening the door was no great task. Jack looked inside with a fast beating heart. His first general impression was of a simply furnished office. He dismissed the locksmith, and recalled Tommy by a signal from the window.

The principal object in the room was an old-fashioned flat-topped desk so placed between the windows that the light would fall over the user's shoulders. The desk was covered with papers, and the merest glance was enough to show Jack that he had here the conclusive evidence that he had been so long in search of. He decided to call in official help now. There was a telephone on the desk, but he hesitated trusting his secret to it. Instead, he wrote a note to the Deputy Commissioner, asking for two plain clothes men to be sent him at once. This he entrusted to Tommy, instructing him to take a taxicab to police headquarters.

The door was fitted with a spring lock of the usual pattern. It had not been injured, and when the door closed it locked itself. As soon as he was left alone Jack set about making a careful examination of the place. He figured that should the owner return, the sound of the key in the lock would give him sufficient warning. He laid his automatic ready to his hand on the desk. He was careful to make no sound that would warn any one who might stop to listen at the door before entering.

First he took a general survey. The two windows of the room looked out on an array of back yards and on the rear of a long row of similar buildings in the next street. One of the windows opened on a fire escape. At one's right as one faced the windows was an old-fashioned fireplace: across the room were two doors, the lower giving on the stair hall, the upper presumably on the hall room adjoining. The latter door was screwed to its frame.

At the other end of the room from the windows was a large closet. Jack, fearful of being trapped by the return of the owner merely looked in here. It was set out with a bureau and mirror, and from pegs around the walls depended an extraordinary assortment of clothes. Jack saw that there was a complete separate outfit on each peg; fine clothes and mean, native and foreign; a policeman's uniform, and a complete turn-out for a woman. Above the pegs a shelf ran around, and over each peg was a box which presumably contained the smaller articles to complete each make-up.

Interesting as was this exhibit, the papers in connection with the desk quickly drew Jack away from it. Behind the desk there was an object which whetted his curiosity to the highest degree. This was an oaken cabinet with drawers of the kind that are used to contain modern card index systems. Jack eagerly pulled out the top drawer.

Inside was a set of large cards, each headed by a name in the usual manner, and with various particulars as to that individual entered beneath. As the scheme became clear to him Jack's heart beat fast. He could scarcely credit the evidence of his senses. It appeared that he held in his hands a complete record of the operations of "Mr. B." What strange freak of vanity could have led the criminal to collect such a mass of damning evidence!

Here was one card chosen at random.

BLAKELY, CHARLES EVANS

_Office_: Blakely Bros. & Co., 47 Wall St.

_Town house_: No. 9 East -- St. (Dec. 1st to May 1st.)

_Country home_: Scarborough-on-Hudson. (Goes up week-ends all year.)

_Income_: $200,000. (Principally stocks and bonds.)

_Personal description_: 41 years old; short, fat all over, bald, rosy; known as "Kewpie Blakely." Brown hair and eyes. Wears large, square-cut emerald on left hand pinky. Agent C.D. reports: Blakely is one of the _bon vivants_ of the Millionaires' Club, a jolly, open-handed, good-natured fellow, enormously popular. Is a well-known collector of Persian faience. Is happily married and has four children, but is reputed to be somewhat gay. N.B. Reports from female agents do not bear this out. Q. reports Blakely employs a body-guard to ride beside him in his car. Says Blakely never walks in the street. Has a watchman in the corridors of his house at night.

On the other side of the card was a series of chronological entries, some of which were obscure, though the main story was clear enough.

April 17th 19-- Sent form AA.
18th Instructed Anderson to follow up.
19th Anderson reports nothing doing.
23rd Sent form AB.
25th Anderson reports his solicitor
thrown out of Blakely's office.
26th Instructed Anderson let B. alone for
present. Sent G. M. to Mrs. Cleaver's
with orders to get next to Blakely.
May 3rd G. M. reports nothing doing.
Blakely's in love with his wife.
4th Tried a man instead. Instructed J. L. to
win Blakely's friendship
through his love of art.
June 11th J. L. reports success. Is on intimate
footing with Blakely. Sent
J. L. capsule with instructions for
administering.
15th J. L. reports success. Blakely apparently
very ill.
16th Wrote Blakely that he had been
poisoned, and next time he'd get a
fatal dose.
17th Blakely sent his secretary to Eureka
Agency to subscribe.

The story told by this card was typical. Some of the victims had required more pressure; some had given in easier. Some had fallen behind in their payments, and had required to be "persuaded" anew. Two of the cards Jack turned over, those of Ames Benton and Silas Gyde, were significantly underlined: "_Account closed._" Jack shuddered.

From the card index he turned to the litter of papers on the desk. On top lay a typewritten communication which bore neither address nor signature, but from the contents was unmistakably to be identified as a report from one of "Mr. B's" agents. It read as follows:

"I cannot give you any definite data as to X's movements around his country place, because his habits are very irregular. He comes out from town sometimes by motor, sometimes by train, and at any hour. Sometimes he stays up in the country for several days at a time, transacting his business over a private telephone wire.

"I understand he laughs at the idea of danger to himself, and is averse to taking any special precautions. I have learned though, that Mrs. X on her own responsibility has engaged guards to patrol their place very thoroughly. It is well known that the Green Hollow Club where he plays golf has long been guarded by a small army under the guise of 'gardeners,' 'green-keepers,' etc.

"I have not been able to win the confidence of any of the servants in the country. They're a crabby lot. It seems Mrs. X has taken them into her confidence regarding a 'danger threatening their master' and they're all making a great brag of their loyalty, etc. I don't think anything can be successfully pulled off up there.

"But here's a plan. Mr. X sleeps in his town house whenever he is detained late in town. The house is closed of course, and is under the care of two old servants, Tom Monahan and his wife. I learned that Tom was a member of the -- district Democratic Club, and I scraped acquaintance with him there. We are now good friends. I have the entrée to the X house (when the master is not there) and can describe it to you fully.

"Yesterday I was sitting in the kitchen with the Monahans, when I noticed that the house in the next street which backs up against the X house is in the hands of painters and decorators. That gave me my idea. It would be useless to try to enter the X house from the front. Monahan has orders not to admit any one whatsoever while Mr. X is there. But there is a door from the kitchen into the back yard which is never locked except at night. I suppose they think that the high board fence around the yard is sufficient protection.

"When X spends the night in town, Mrs. Monahan cooks his breakfast for him, and at half past nine (she is very methodical) carries it up to the dining-room and puts it on the steam table. She does not call her master. He comes down when he is ready. Another thing, Mrs. Monahan does not allow her husband in the kitchen while she is cooking. At this hour he will be in the servants' hall in the front of the basement, reading the paper.

"Here's my plan. Let your man go to the house where the painters are at work--it is No. -- East 65th Street, and let him ask the boss painter for a job. The painters are working on the fourth and fifth floors now. He'll be turned down of course, or referred to the office. Now when he comes down-stairs instead of leaving the house, let him go into the dining-room to get the lay of things. The dining-room is the first floor rear. The windows overlook the kitchen and dining-room of the X house.

"When he sees Mrs. Monahan go up to the dining-room with X's breakfast, let him slip down-stairs and out through the yard of the vacant house. He will have a good five minutes or more while Mrs. M is arranging the things, etc. He will find plenty of ladders. Let him plant a short ladder against the back fence and drop into the X's yard. He cannot be seen from the X house unless Mrs. M just happens to be at the dining-room window, which is very unlikely.

"I will enclose a little plan of the X house. Your man enters from the yard by door A, crosses kitchen and goes out by door Z into passage; opens door C into housemaid's closet, where he conceals himself until Mrs. M returns to kitchen. He then goes up the stairs D which brings him to the pantry above. There is a swing door into the dining-room. In front of this door is a tall leather screen. If he waits behind this screen until X gets fairly inside the room, he will be between him and the only exit. If X is already in the room he will have him dead to rights.

"After the accident the chances of your man making a getaway are slim. The entrance hall to the house lies just in front of the dining-room. There are two stairs from the basement. If Monahan runs up through the pantry your man may get out by the front door, if he can open it in time, but if M comes up the front stairs he will meet him in the hall. However, I understood from you that the matter of the getaway was not of the first importance.

"P.S. I have opened this to add that I have just learned X is booked to speak at the A.B.A. dinner at the Astor on Tuesday night. He will stay in town. If you think my plan is good enough you'll have to pull the trick Wednesday morning. The next time X stays in town the painters in the vacant house will be finished."

Jack sat scowling at this document. Another ghastly assassination scheduled! His skin crawled with horror. How to discover the identity of the victim and warn him in time was the problem. It was planned for Wednesday morning----

Suddenly Jack sprang to his feet electrified. This was Wednesday morning. And it must be about nine-thirty now! He pulled out his watch with trembling fingers. The hands pointed to twenty minutes past nine. He had ten minutes! And he had yet to find out whom they planned to kill!

He searched frantically among the other papers on the desk for a possible clue. He uncovered a card which had been removed from the index temporarily. A glance at it was sufficient.

DELAMARE, WALTER DE COURCY.

Of course! Delamare had threatened to defy the blackmailers! Delamare's house was on the North side of East Sixty-fourth Street: Delamare had been the principal speaker at the bankers' dinner the night before: Jack thought of the man's fine courage, his humanity, his humor, his unfailing kindness to himself, and turned sick with horror.

"I have not time!" he groaned.

He fell on the telephone book. Delamare's address was not listed there. Like many a prominent man he did not care to subject his home to the annoyance of calls from cranks and strangers. It is useless to ask Information for such numbers. Jack tried the bank but it was before the opening hour and he could get no answer. Meanwhile the precious moments were slipping.

He snatched up his hat, and ran out of the room careless if all his work was destroyed, so he might save his friend. He had to run half a block before he met a taxicab. That took him swiftly enough to Delamare's house. The inexpressive blind windows told him nothing of what was happening within. It was exactly nine-thirty when he rang the bell. He prayed that Delamare might oversleep to-day.

The door was opened by a middle-aged caretaker, with a somewhat forbidding look, evidently Monahan.

"I must see Mr. Delamare at once!" said Jack breathlessly.

"Not at home. You'll have to go to his office," was the stolid response.

Jack could stand no more. "Good God, man! His life is threatened. I must warn him!"

Monahan was sure then that he had a crank to deal with. He barred the way with his great bulk. "Take yourself off!" he growled. "Or I'll call the police."

Jack almost despaired. "Shut the door and leave me here if you want," he said, "but for God's sake go to your master quickly. Keep him out of the dining-room until you search it. There's a murderer hidden there!"

Monahan's mind moved slowly. He stood staring at Jack full of sullen suspicion.

"Go! Go!" cried Jack.

A shot rang out in the house, seemingly right behind Monahan.

"Too late!" cried Jack.

The sound of the shot galvanized the heavy-witted one into action. Turning, he ran from the door, leaving it open. Jack followed him. The dining-room as he already knew adjoined the hall. As Monahan opened the door there was flashed on Jack's brain the picture of a man standing with a gun in his hand, and another lying face down on the floor.

"Seize him!" he cried instinctively.