Chapter IX: Part 9

But at the sound of their coming, the erect man turned, and Jack saw that it was Delamare with face pale but composed.

"Oh, you're all right! Thank God!" cried Jack. The suddenness of the reaction almost unmanned him. He had to support himself against the door frame.

"You, Robinson?" said Delamare in a low steady voice. "Were you warned of this?"

"Just ten minutes ago. I came as quickly as I could."

"Do you know him?" asked Delamare pointing to the figure on the floor.

"I think so. Turn him over."

Monahan obeyed, and as Jack had expected, he saw the livid, drawn face of the half mad youth he had tried to befriend. The eyes were closed.

Jack nodded. "His name is Berg. Is he dead?"

Delamare shook his head smiling. "Not much. Stunned only. I cracked him on the head with his own gun. He had no strength."

A wave of compassion swept over Jack. "Poor devil! Poor devil!" he murmured. "He isn't the real criminal!"

"I expect not," said Delamare.

Jack suddenly became aware of a dark stain spreading on Delamare's coat sleeve above the elbow. "You're wounded!" he cried.

"Nothing serious. A flesh wound. I can move my arm freely."

"You must have a doctor."

"All right. Monahan, telephone for Doctor McArdle. Then for the police."

By this time Berg's eyes were open. He was muttering incoherently, and rolling his head from side to side on the floor. As Monahan was leaving the room, Jack was struck by an idea.

"Wait a minute!" he said. To Delamare: "If I might make a suggestion----?"

"Go ahead."

"Couldn't we keep this affair to ourselves for the present?"

"Certainly, if it will further your plans."

"This young fellow is mad--or the next thing to it. If we could put him in the hands of a good brain specialist, and have his senses restored by proper treatment, he might make an invaluable witness against the man we really want."

"Good!" said Delamare. "We'll call Doctor Watkins Kent. Monahan, never mind the police. First call Doctor McArdle, and say I have had a slight accident. Say no more than that. Then call Doctor Watkins Kent. Say that Mr. Delamare presents his compliments, and wants to know if he can make it convenient to come to his house at once on a matter of importance."

34

Jack, remembering the critical stage at which he had left matters in Forty-Eighth street, did not wait for the doctors, but left Berg in Mr. Delamare's care, and hastened back. He found that Tommy and the two plainclothes men had arrived in the meantime, but finding him gone, they were hanging around outside the door of the room, at a loss what to do.

This time they broke in the door without ado. At his first glance inside Jack saw that the room had been visited. Though he had been away but little more than half an hour, a clean sweep had been made of the cards and papers. A still smoldering fire in the grate showed the manner of their disposal. The window on the fire escape was open.

"He was inside when you got here!" cried Jack. "He heard you outside. Now he's given us the slip again. Why didn't you watch the back windows!"

The city detectives looked distinctly aggrieved. The spokesman for the pair said: "How did we know what your game was?"

"You knew!" said Jack to Tommy.

Tommy hung his head. "When I came back, and found you gone, I didn't know rightly what to do," he muttered.

Jack saw that it was really nobody's fault. "Oh, well, we'll have to try again," he said.

"You should have called on us sooner," said the principal detective condescendingly.

"Sorry, I didn't," said Jack dryly.

The other missed the note of irony. "Well, lay out your case to us now, and we'll give you some experienced advice."

Somehow the manner of this well-meaning gentleman did not inspire Jack with overmuch confidence as to his perspicacity. Moreover, since his man and his evidence were both gone, he saw nothing to be gained by consulting the police.

"I'm not quite ready to do that," he said good-naturedly. "Sorry to have troubled you for nothing."

The two detectives exchanged a look of scorn. "These amateurs think they know it all!" it said. Only the fact that they knew Jack was a great man's secretary, and therefore a person to be propitiated, restrained them from audible comment.

However, when they found that Jack was disposed to reward them liberally, they changed their opinion of him. Ten dollar bills are wonderful sweeteners.

"How about me?" asked Tommy anxiously.

"Back to the mines," said Jack. "In other words, 1118 Broadway."

Tommy's face fell piteously.

"Mind you," said Jack quickly. "I'm not blaming you for our failure. You did wonderful work. I'll send for you when the trail gets hot again."

He likewise presented Tommy with a green testimonial of his appreciation.

Before any of them got out of the room the telephone bell most surprisingly rang. They all stopped and stared at the instrument as if they expected an apparition to issue from the mouthpiece.

"Wait!" said Jack. "Perhaps there's something here."

He took down the receiver. "Hello," he said ingratiatingly.

The reply came in a tone no less dulcet: "How do you do, Mr. Robinson."

Jack almost dropped the receiver. "Why--what--who--" he stammered.

He heard a light laugh on the wire. "You are surprised. But I was sure I would find you there."

"Who is this?" asked Jack sparring for time--he knew very well.

"Need you ask?" replied the mocking voice. "This is the owner of the desk at which you are now seated."

Jack said to himself, "Mustn't let him think he's putting it over you!" He answered in the same mocking tone. "How do you do. So glad you called me up."

Clapping a hand over the transmitter, he whispered swiftly to the leading detective: "This is the man. Trace the call back. If he's anywhere near, get him. I'll keep him talking."

The detective took a note of the number on the transmitter, and ran out followed by Tommy.

Meanwhile the voice on the wire was saying: "Sorry I was out when you called."

"Very glad to wait until you can get back," said Jack.

"That's nice of you. But I'm mighty sorry, I've been called out of town."

As on a former occasion Jack's recollection was vaguely stirred by something familiar in the man's voice. He supposed that this was the man who had appeared as Comrade Wilde the night before, but as Wilde had not spoken aloud within Jack's hearing, it must have been on some other occasion he had heard this voice. But he could not place it.

When the exchange of ironical civilities began to pall, Jack asked politely: "What can I do for you, Mr. B.?"

"I just wanted a little chat with you. I wanted to congratulate you on your game."

"Thanks!"

"It's been a mighty interesting game that you and I have been playing the last few weeks; a sort of chess game with human pawns, eh?"

"That's right."

"Well, you've won. You have checkmated me."

"Do you mind telling me what you mean by that exactly?"

"I have quit. Burned my records as you see; closed up Anderson and the other agencies; paid off and called in all my operatives."

"Going to retire on your winnings, eh?"

"Quite so," was the calm reply. "But do me the credit of believing that it was not the money I was playing for, but the joy of the game. It was a great game! For three years I have pitted myself single-handed against the combined wealth of this country. I have taken my toll of the millionaires, and not all the power that wealth commands was able to stop me!"

"True enough," said Jack grimly. "I could admire you myself, if you had only left murder out of your calculations."

The man at the other end of the wire chose to ignore the ugly word. He resumed: "I'm counting on the fact that your head is strong enough not to be turned by what I'm telling you."

"I don't quite get you there," said Jack.

"In other words you're too good a man I hope, to be unduly puffed up by the fact that I salute you as the victor, and retire from the game. You will not be foolish enough to think that you have me altogether at your mercy."

"Oh, I hope I know a good player myself when I see one."

"Good! Then you will be content with your victory, which I assure you is no mean one for a man of your years. So long as you have stopped me you will not feel that it is necessary to your triumph to have me apprehended."

"Oh, I didn't say that," Jack answered quickly. "I should have to consider that carefully. I couldn't promise anything offhand."

"Promise?" said the voice quickly, with a touch of pique. "I want no promise. It is nothing to me what you decide. I like you for your sportsmanlike qualities, and therefore I give you fair warning. It is for your own good that I suggest you go no further."

"Much obliged," said Jack dryly, "I'll consider it."

There was still pique in the voice. "Don't get a swelled head, my young friend. It is fatal to clever youths. I've been playing with you the last few weeks. It amused me to see how near I could let you come to me, and still evade you. But if I wished to keep out of your way, you could never get within miles of me!"

"Then why bother about the matter?"

"Because I am tired of the chase. I'm going to settle down into a nice hum-drum life of respectability. I'm not going to put myself to the trouble of running away from you."

"And if I should still keep after you?"

"I'd be awfully sorry," drawled the voice, "but I should really have to put a quietus on you. I could, you know. I've had a dozen chances within the past ten days."

Jack had no reason to doubt the truth of the last statement. He shivered a little. After all, life was sweet.

"I should hate to do it," the voice went on, "you're too good a sport."

"Much obliged," put in Jack.

"But I'd have no choice, really. I must have rest. My doctor orders it."

Jack smiled grimly at the thought of a crook threatened with nervous prostration as a result of overwork. These are rapid times that we live in! He cast about in his mind for the means to prolong the conversation.

"How do I know you're on the square?" he asked. "About quitting, I mean."

"Go see your friend Anderson to-morrow. You'll find him closed up. Mail your employer's check to the Eureka Protective Association. It will be returned to you by the post-office."

It seemed wise to Jack to appear to fall in with the other's suggestions. "I appreciate your friendliness in warning me," he said. "Do you mind if I ask you a question or two. Just natural, human curiosity, you know."

"Ask them and I'll see."

"How did you know I had been here in your office when you came. I had disturbed nothing."

"Perhaps I was there myself at the time."

"Impossible! I made sure of that."

The laugh sounded again. "Nothing is impossible! Think it over!"

"What first put you on to the fact that I was after you?"

"Oh, you want to know too much," was the laughing reply. "Answer me a question."

"Go ahead."

"What first made you suspect the Eureka Association?"

"Mr. Gyde left his heir a statement of their dealings with him."

"Hm! I never thought of that possibility."

"Now answer my question."

"You'd like to keep me here, wouldn't you, until you have time to trace this call back, and send a man to nab me. Sorry I can't oblige. I'm at Grand Central and my train is leaving. Good-bye!"

The detective had not sufficient time, of course, to get his man. Oddly enough the humorous "Mr. B" had told the truth as to where he was. The call had come from the Grand Central station.

35

Locked in his own room, Jack went over and over that telephone conversation, regarding it from every angle, and seeking to establish a new plan of campaign upon his conclusions. He was inclined to believe that "Mr. B" was sincere in his intentions of quitting the game. His dealings with the man had shown him that like all really able liars he used as much of the truth as he could. At any rate he would soon know whether or not he had quit.

But that "Mr. B" would now settle down to a life of respectability, Jack did not credit for a moment. It was all very well for him to talk about being "tired," excitement gets into the blood and one finds onesself unable to live without it. The thing was to figure out in advance what new direction his villainy would take.

Looking at the matter in the whole, Jack could not be very much cast down. It was no small feat that he had accomplished in bringing this man to sue for a truce. For that's what it was, let him make believe all he liked. He, Jack, had stopped him in mid-career, and Mr. B was no ordinary vulgar crook, but a really stupendous figure in his way. And Jack told himself if he could stop the man, he ought to be able to catch him.

He had not the slightest intention of giving up the chase, of course. His adversary's threats had the effect of stiffening his resolution. His present problem was, how to make "Mr. B" think that he had abandoned all measures against him, while he prepared a new surprise. Jack was well assured that he would be closely watched.

Jack's last remaining line of approach to the old man lay through Miriam. True, he had said over the wire that he had called in and paid off all his agents; but that this applied to Miriam, Jack doubted. Miriam would never be allowed to enjoy the pickings of so rich a goose as Bobo was supposed to be, alone. One way or another demands for money would be made. Surely he could find openings here.

The one trump card that Jack still held was that "Mr. B" with all his astuteness still believed that Jack was an obscure and ambitious youth whose sole motive in this affair was to make a name for himself.

Upon these two facts, the connection between Miriam and "Mr. B," and the latter's ignorance of his real identity, Jack built his new plan. It was inspired by the old maxim: "Give a thief rope enough and he will hang himself." After several hours of hard thought, he had it roughed out, but one great difficulty remained to be solved. Supposing he dropped out of sight for awhile, how could he inform himself of what went on in his absence?

After lunch Bobo called him up on the long distance. Bobo and Miriam were honeymooning at Rodney Farms, that exclusive and extremely expensive country resort.

Bobo's honeymoon was probably not of unalloyed joy. His voice was abjectly apologetic. "That you, Jack? How's things?"

"Pretty good."

The friendliness of Jack's tone heartened the other. "I just called up to tell you we were coming back to-morrow for a day or so. Miriam wants to."

"That so?"

"Yes, she fired her maid to-day, and has to get another."

"Yes?" said Jack with more attention. Something stirred in the back of his brain. "Has she got anybody in view?"

"No, she's going to Miss Staley's Employment Bureau. Seems all the women up here get their maids from her. Why do you ask?"

"Oh, nothing."

"It's all right for us to come?"

"Sure!"

"Well, I didn't want to take you by surprise."

"That's all right. As it happens, I want to have a talk with you."

Bobo's voice faltered. "Oh--! You're not going to---- You're not going to----"

"Not yet," said Jack encouragingly. "In fact, I was thinking of loosening the purse strings a bit on certain conditions."

"Oh, if you would! She drives me nearly crazy with her questions, why I can't get more money."

"Well, we'll talk about it to-morrow--while Miriam is out."

Jack's next move was to seek out Kate. To do this it was necessary to don the Pitman make-up, that he was heartily sick of now; he vowed it should be Mr. P.'s final appearance. He found her in her little sitting-room, and first he had to tell her of the exciting events of the morning, concluding with the astonishing telephone conversation. Her face blanched a little, when she heard of the threat.

"Well, you are satisfied, aren't you?" she asked in an offhand tone, "I mean if it's true that he's quit."

"Let him get away?" said Jack surprised. "Oh, Kate!"

Kate hung her head blushing.

"The point is, are you satisfied to have me stop?" Jack demanded. "You know what you said."

"I don't think you ought to take unnecessary risks," she murmured.

This was sweet to Jack. In order to get more of it he made believe not to see her drift. "As to that," he said carelessly, "the risk is no greater than it's been right along."

She shook her head. "No, I feel he means what he says. It was a warning. He has a queer sense of fair play."

The enraptured Jack forgot Mr. B. and all else. "Kitty, do you realize what you're saying!" he cried. "Do you mean you are satisfied I've done my job, and are willing to marry me now? You blessed darling! We could get a license this afternoon. We don't need any further preparations, do we? Oh, what happiness!"

"I wouldn't marry you at an hour's notice--or any man!" said Kate with an indignation, somewhat weakened by the consciousness of her inconsistency. "I need weeks to get ready in!"

"Weeks!" echoed Jack with falling countenance.

"Well, days, anyway."

"But will you, in a week?"

"Will you give up the chase of this man? Turn your case over to the police now. After all it's their business."

A reaction took place in Jack. "Oh, Kitty!" he said in distress. "How can I? All my life I'd feel as if I'd left my job half finished. I'd feel as if I'd been scared off. How could I respect myself? How could you respect me?"

She snatched her hand out of his. At first he thought he had offended her, but presently he perceived that she was moved by quite a different feeling. She was ashamed. She lifted an humble glance to his.

"You're right," she whispered. "It was just a moment of weakness. I wouldn't have let you give it up really, when I had had time to think. How will you be able to respect me now?"

He rapturously repossessed himself of her hand. "Kitty, you silly! Do you think I will be blaming you for loving me a little! How many times have I come to you ready to give up, and had you send me back into the fight again! This just equalizes things a little." He smiled at her teasingly. "You won't be able to be so superior, that's all!"

She looked at him with an odd shy light in her eyes that he had not seen before. "You goose! If you knew!"

"Let's get married anyway," he pleaded. "There's no manner of sense in putting it off any longer."

She shook her head "No. We set a task for ourselves. Let's accomplish it first."

"Well, tell me you love me, and I'll be satisfied."

"You know it. You've always known it."

"But tell me in plain downright English."

She did.

After an interval of divine foolishness, they came down to earth again, and Jack recollected his new plans.

"I've got a difficult and disagreeable job for you," said he.

"What's that?"

"Did you ever hear of Miss Staley's Employment Bureau?"

"Certainly. It's the best-known in town. All the fashionable women patronize it."

"Miriam's going there to-morrow morning to engage a maid."

"Well?"

"I want you to get the job."

"Good Heavens! Let me collect my wits! Lady's maid, I!"

"Look what I've been!"

"Oh, it isn't that I mind! But could I get away with it?"

"Why not? She wants a maid to do for her, I suppose, what you ordinarily do for yourself."

"How will I land the job?"

"Simply go there and register, and pay the fee, and turn down any other offers you may get. I guess they don't get many applicants that could compete with you."

"Silly! There are references to be thought of."

"That's easy. Mrs. Delamare will provide one, and get others if necessary."

"What is the object of my doing this?"

"I'm going to drop out of sight for a while, and I must have somebody to keep me informed of what goes on in Bobo's establishment while I'm away."

"Very well. I'll do it."

The agreement was sealed.

Jack spent the rest of the afternoon in arranging for the necessary references for Kate, in making certain inquiries at the steamship offices, and finally in looking up a friend of the old poverty-stricken days, one Stanley Larkin. He chose this friend because of a general resemblance they were said to bear each other.

Larkin worked in the freight office of a railway. At the sight of Jack his eyes widened in amazement. "Good Lord! if it isn't Jack----"

"Robinson," put in Jack quickly, "for the present."

Larkin was anything but slow. "Sure, Robinson! It certainly was decent of you to look me up in this hole."

"Look here," said Jack, coming to the point at once, "what kind of a job have you got here?"

"Rotten!"

"Is there any reason why you shouldn't give it up for awhile?"

"None whatever, if I could meet my board bill without it."

"Will you make a trip down to British Guiana for me?

"British Guiana! Am I dreaming?"

"Not that you'd notice," said Jack grinning. "Boat leaves Saturday. I'm going with you part way."

The young clerk balanced the stultifying monotony of life in a railway office against the lure of the tropics. His eyes became dreamy. "Will I go!" he said. "Only give me the chance! It's like a fairy tale!"

"Good!" said Jack. "Let's have dinner together, and we'll arrange everything. It will have to be some out of the way place because I have to take precautions against being followed. Say Pezzi's on West Thirty-Fourth. I'll meet you there at seven."

36

Bobo and the lovely Miriam arrived at the Madagascar next morning. Miriam promptly sallied forth to Miss Staley's to pick a maid, giving Jack and Bobo an opportunity to have a long talk undisturbed. When Bobo learned that Jack's new plans included unlimited funds for himself for the time being, he hastened to agree to everything. Jack rehearsed him carefully in the part he was to play. The principal danger was that Bobo in his enthusiasm might overdo it.

"For Heaven's sake don't look so smug and expectant," said Jack, "or she'll smell a rat before we begin!"

Bobo, it should be mentioned, knew nothing of the part Kate was to play. Bobo had never seen Kate.

Miriam returned successful from her quest, and so far as such a great lady might deign to her slaves, almost good-tempered.

"Yes, I found a girl," she said languidly. "Quite a superior creature. Her name is Mary Dean. She has worked for Mrs. Walter Delamare and Mrs. Willis Estabrook. She'll be here with her things in time to dress me for dinner."

Mary Dean was the name chosen by Kate. "So far so good," thought Jack.

The three of them lunched together in the Dutch room of their suite. Bobo as the meal progressed, became visibly nervous, and scarcely did justice to the timbales of chicken and asparagus tips. Jack watching him, and fearful that Miriam might notice something, gave him the sign to open the comedy, though he had intended to wait until after the meal.

"I want some more money," said Bobo.

"Huh!" said Miriam scornfully. "One would think it was his money you were asking for."

This put Bobo out a little; Jack hastened to give him the next cue. "But I've been sending you a thousand a week."

"What's a thousand a week!" said Miriam. "Our bill at the Rodney Farms was half of that."

"Why didn't you buy the place?" queried Jack sarcastically.

"Is that for you to say?" demanded Miriam.

"I've got to have more!" shouted Bobo--according to previous instructions.

"A thousand was all you said you wanted."

"That was before I married. I need more now."

"Yes, and a whole lot more!" put in Miriam.

This was just what Jack wanted from her. He sought to irritate her still further by addressing himself pointedly to Bobo. "You said it was part of my job to save you from your own extravagance."

"You needn't remind me of that now," said Bobo. "The money's mine, isn't it?"

"You put the management of it in my hands."

"Did he engage you as his nurse?" suggested Miriam.

"You said I was not to give you any more no matter how hard you begged for it," said Jack affecting a stubborn air.

"Oh, for Heaven's sake! This is ridiculous!" cried Miriam. "Are you compelled to go down on your knees to beg your own money?"

"No, I'm not!" cried Bobo, banging the table. "I want money, and I want it quick!"

Jack looked more stubborn than ever. "I'll talk to you afterwards," he said. "We can't discuss business at meals."

"Look here, you'd better understand you'll talk business whenever we want!" said Miriam.

Jack frowned. Still addressing Bobo he said: "We got along all right till she began to butt in."

Miriam turned pale with anger. This, as Jack intended it to be, was an outrageous affront to the dignity she now affected.

"Are you--going to--sit there--and let him insult me!" she stammered to Bobo.

Bobo banged the table again. That table was of inestimable support to him. "No, I'm not! You apologize to her!"

"I won't!" muttered Jack, feigning the sulks.

"Apologize to her!" shouted Bobo.

"Oh, I apologize," said Jack gracelessly.

"That's no apology!" said Miriam.

Jack sprang up and made a sweeping bow, one hand on his breast. "I humbly beg your ladyship's pardon," he said ironically.

Miriam was almost ready to cry now. "Don't you see he's insulting me more than ever!"

Bobo banged the table again. "You treat her with proper respect or I'll fire you!"

"You don't dare fire me," said Jack threateningly.

Miriam caught him up as quick as lightning. "Don't dare fire you! Why not, I'd like to know!" Turning to Bobo: "Has he got something on you? Is that why we've had to put up with his cheek all this while! Oh, I see it all now!"

Jack, while preserving his defiant front, was quivering with laughter inside. The thing was working better than he had dared hope.

"What do you care what he's got on you!" continued Miriam. "Aren't you worth a hundred millions? A millionaire can do anything he wants and get away with it!"

"You're right!" cried Bobo banging the table. "I'm tired of having it thrown up to me. I'm tired of being under the thumb of my own secretary. I can do what I want! I can spend my money the way I want! You're fired, do you hear!"

Miriam smiled an unpleasant smile. Her dearest wish was coming true.

Jack made out to be much taken aback. "You don't dare," he muttered.

"We'll see whether I dare! You pack up your things and get out before night, see? I'll pay you a month's salary to be rid of you!"

"I won't go," said Jack.

"Then you'll be thrown out!" said Miriam.

"I'll tell what I know!"

"Go ahead and tell it," said Bobo. "I'm sick of hearing about it!"

"I'll tell her!"

"Tell me," said Miriam. "I guess I can stand it."

"When we worked in the sash and blind factory together," said Jack with the air of one delivering damning evidence, "he used to swipe his lunch money out of the petty cash, and make phony entries in the cash book to hide it. I caught him at it!"

Bobo hung his head in simulated shame. It was good comedy.

Miriam shouted with laughter. "Is that all!" To Bobo: "You poor idiot! Do you mean to say that was all he had over you to set him up so!"

"Well, I've fired him, haven't I?" said Bobo with an aggrieved air. To Jack he added: "Now you've done your worst, get!"

Jack put on an air of swaggering bravado. "Oh, all right! I'm sick of the job anyhow! I wouldn't work for you now for ten times the salary!"

Miriam laughed insultingly.

Jack arose. He still had to make a good exit. "It's hard enough to take all the work and the responsibility," he said with assumed bitterness, "but when your boss marries a----"

"You'll leave her out of it, or I'll smash you!" cried Bobo.

"Come on! Let's settle it man to man," said Jack. "I'm ready any time!"

"You get out of here!" shouted Bobo. "Or I'll call the house detective!"

Jack went, slamming the door. He proceeded to his own room, chuckling.

Later, while he was packing, he heard a timid knock. Bobo was standing outside with a deprecating air.

"Can I come in?"

"Sure! Where's Miriam?"

"We're safe. She's gone out to see about getting me another secretary."

Jack laughed. "Poor Bobo!"

"It went off all right," said Bobo. "She doesn't suspect a thing!"

"Fine!" said Jack.

"What are you going to do?"

"Take a little trip. British Guiana. Boat leaves Saturday."

"Lucky Dog!"

"What, already!"

"Oh, it was my fate, I suppose."

37

Jack was counting on the fact that the circumstances of his quarrel with Bobo would be faithfully reported to "Mr. B." and that the latter would satisfy himself that he, Jack, actually boarded the steamship for British Guiana.

He moved to a more modest hotel, as befitted his altered circumstances, but on Saturday morning he returned to the Madagascar and loitered in the lobby, ostentatiously bidding good-by to the acquaintances he had made there, whose demeanor, by the way, had noticeably cooled since he lost his job. He did not see Bobo again, but he had a distant glimpse of Kate passing through the lobby, a charming figure in her maid's dress with lace apron and cap, her eyes demurely cast down.

Jack had the satisfaction, at length, of observing that he was the object of a covert interest on the part of a well-dressed, sharp-eyed youth of much the same type as those he had formerly known in "Mr. B.'s" service. When he was sure of this he took a taxi for the boat. Baldwin, who seemed to have a genuinely friendly feeling for him, offered to see him off, and Jack was not averse, of course, to having another witness to his actual departure.

As he and Baldwin stood on the promenade deck of S.S. _Covenas_ Jack saw the sharp-eyed one watching from the crowd on the dock. Evidently his instructions were to make sure that Jack did not escape down the gang-plank at the last moment. Stanley Larkin was safely aboard the ship, but according to pre-arrangement he and Jack gave no sign of recognition.

Finally the last gong sounded, Jack and Baldwin parted, the whistle blew, and the _Covenas_ started to back slowly out into midstream. On her printed passenger list appeared the names of Mr. Stanley Larkin, bound for St. Thomas, her first port of call, and Mr. John Robinson, booked through to Georgetown, British Guiana. Both young gentlemen were aboard, as we have seen, but as a matter of fact they had changed tickets--and identities for the voyage.

Of that pleasant voyage it is unnecessary to speak, since nothing occurred upon it that bears upon this story. Jack, that is to say the real Jack, went ashore at the island of St. Thomas, where, under the name of Larkin, he booked passage back to New York on the _Lobos_, first returning steamer of the same line.

In St. Thomas he received a cablegram, which read, when decoded:

Still holding my job. Nothing new. Love.

KATE.

In seventeen days from the time he left he was off quarantine again. According to an arrangement effected through Mr. Delamare's good offices, the health officer's boat took Jack off the _Lobos_ and landed him on Staten Island, whence he made his way via Elizabeth to Newark without setting foot on Manhattan. This was in case the astute "Mr. B" should take it into his head to have the _Lobos_ watched when she docked.

Jack went to a hotel in Newark, where it had been arranged he was to receive Kate's reports. He found awaiting him a day by day account of the life of Bobo's household which did credit to Kate's faculty of observation. It contained, however, no suggestion of what he so much wished to find, the reëntrance of "Mr. B" upon the scene. Only a few characteristic excerpts from Kate's reports need be given.

November 25th: Miriam has embarked on a perfect orgy of spending. All day long, dresses, furs, hats are being delivered at the hotel, not to speak of the dozens of expensive, useless knickknacks that catch her eye in the stores. It is part of my duty to unwrap the packages. Lots of the things she never even looks at when they get home. She buys, I am sure, largely for the pleasure of seeing the salespeople fawn when she gives her name and address. It is a never-failing pleasure to her to announce who she is. Sometimes she takes me with her on a shopping expedition because she thinks I lend style to the outfit. She talks French to me in public. Such French! She bought an automobile to-day, a Vickers-Lee landaulet, price $8,000. She intends to have two men on the box, when she can get their liveries made. A man from Mercer's, the fashionable jewelers, brought an amazing array of pearls and diamonds to the hotel this afternoon. She chose a strand of pearls. I don't know the price. Such unbridled extravagance outrages my New England conscience. I hope you'll be able to put a stop to it soon.

* * * * *

Nov. 27th: M.'s heart is set on having a mansion on upper Fifth avenue, whence she can institute a social campaign. When she is not at the dressmaker's she is being taken around to see such places. The servility of the well-dressed young real estate agents delights her. She gives Bobo no peace on the subject, but I believe he has avoided committing himself as yet. As she has me fussing over her clothes or her hair almost every moment that she is at home, I hear most of their conjugal discussions.

Nov. 28th: The new secretary came to-day. I dislike him intensely. His name is Leroy Chalfonte. He is a handsome young fellow in a brutal, scornful way, the type that makes fools of many silly women. His manners are superficially good enough, but he doesn't trouble to hide the sneer. I gather that he and Miriam spend the afternoons in the tango parlors. He is covertly insolent to Bobo, who dares not call him down.

* * * * *

Dec. 5th: This is no easy job to hold. M.'s method with servants seems to be that of certain misguided parents with their offspring. I believe it is called "breaking their spirit." When she gets up in a bad temper, positively nothing that I can do pleases. The more patient and willing I am, the greater offense it is. I have found it better to be a little impudent at such times. She expects it, and she can then abuse me with a better face. Sometimes I am sorry for the poor creature. She has never known a moment's real happiness, I am sure. You would think that now she would feel as if her ambition was realized, but no! Mercer's have a pearl necklace worth a hundred and fifty thousand, and she can think of nothing else. I hope you have taken precautions against Bobo's attempting to gratify any such whim.

* * * * *

Dec. 11th: Yesterday Miriam had a talk with somebody over the telephone. She used the instrument in her boudoir. I had a perfectly natural excuse to enter the room while she was talking, but she ordered me out. I made out this much. That somebody was insisting on something that she objected to--somebody that she was in awe of. Thinking perhaps of the danger of somebody listening in, she made a date to continue the talk from an outside 'phone.

This last entry on Kate's report was dated only the day before. Since her communication gave Jack nothing to go on, all he could do was to wait until he heard from her again. She would learn of the arrival of the _Lobos_ from the newspapers, and would without doubt call him up at his hotel at the first opportunity.

At nine o'clock that night Jack got his call, and heard the voice that was dearest to him.

"Jack!"

"Kitty, dearest!"

"Oh, my dear, it's so good to hear you! Are you quite well?"

"Right as a trivet! And you?"

"Oh, I'm well. But I can't stand that woman much longer!"

"Poor Kitty! I know. Where are you 'phoning from?"

"Booth in a drug-store."

"Is it safe?"

"Oh, yes! They've gone to the theater, and to dance afterwards. They won't be home until three or after. She insists on my staying up to put her to bed, but they know I go out while they're out."

"Have you any news for me?"

"Yes, I think I have."

"Shoot!"

"You remember in my last letter I said Miriam had had a telephone conversation yesterday that seemed to agitate her?"

"Yes."

"Well, I think I have the explanation. Last night when I was putting my lady to bed--Oh, my dear, you'll never know what I have been through!--Bobo said, apropos of nothing, but only anxious to propitiate her, 'It will be nice to have some relations, won't it?' Miriam replied ill-temperedly: 'I'm not so crazy about it.' 'What's Uncle George like?' asked Bobo. 'Just a business man,' she answered, 'a manufacturer of stoves or something.' 'Well fixed?' asked Bobo. 'He must be or he couldn't have retired,' she answered."

Kate went on: "Well, Uncle George and Aunt Sally turned up for lunch to-day."

"Ha!" said Jack. "What's he like?"

"He doesn't fit the descriptions of 'Mr. B.'"

"He wouldn't! Go on."

"He's a man of fifty-odd, bald, dean-shaven, blue eyes."

"Short and stocky?"

"Yes."

"So far so good. Go on."

"He was very jolly and good-natured; full of jokes: courteous to everybody, even to me. Just the same, Miriam is afraid of him. She is quite subdued when he is there."

"Good! We're getting warm. What's Aunt Sally like?"

"How do you describe an old lady? She's just like another. She probably set up to be a belle in her youth, because she still wears a false front. She's very quiet. Uncle George talks all the time, and she just listens and nods and smiles. It appears they live in Buffalo and have come to New York for a little gayety. They wanted to see dear Miriam's husband, of course, so they looked her up at once. They're staying at the Hotel Abercrombie, but have decided to move to the Madagascar to be nearer dear Miriam."

"What's your opinion, Kitty?"

"I'm not dead certain yet. The most suspicious thing is Miriam's attitude. Why should she be in such awe of her agreeable uncle? That they have not seen each other for years, as they give out, is certainly false. One of Uncle's features fits all the descriptions of 'Mr. B.' that we have received. His piercing blue eyes----"

"Good!" said Jack. "That's the one feature he couldn't change."

"If we were not looking for 'Mr. B.' to appear on the scene, and did not know that he was fiendishly clever, I must say I would never suspect Uncle George. He plays his part to perfection. He lets on to be a prosperous man, and asks no favors of Bobo. I gather that he insists on paying his half everywhere. But to-day I got a hint of his possible game. He and Bobo had a long talk in the Dutch room. I made an excuse to pass through as often as I could, and picked up some scraps of their conversation."

"Well?" said Jack eagerly.

"Uncle George was posing as an experienced and successful man of affairs, see? Without appearing to pry into Bobo's business, he was setting himself to win his confidence in such matters. Bobo is obviously such a fool that Uncle George no doubt anticipates gaining a complete ascendancy over him, and perhaps sees himself in the position of directing all Bobo's affairs. But he's an artist; he carries it off so well, I find myself wondering sometimes if my suspicions aren't all imaginary."

"We'll make sure of that," said Jack.

"What do you want me to do?"

"Get me a scrap of his writing if you can--to compare with what I have."

"I'll try."

"And call me up again first chance you get."

38

The following day was a hard one on Jack, for he had to pass it in inaction and suspense. He thought it wiser not to venture over to New York: an awkward chance encounter might spoil all. He talked to Mr. Delamare over the 'phone, and through him got into communication with the Deputy Commissioner of police. The latter promised him whatever help he needed, which was certainly good-natured, since, at Jack's invitation, his men had twice assisted in a fiasco.

Kate called him up at the same hour as on the day before.

"They're off for the night again. All four of them."

"Anything decisive to-day?"

"No, but many little things have confirmed me in my opinion that Uncle George is our man. He is no less agreeable than at first, but in a curious way I feel his power stealing over us. They have moved to the Madagascar, and have been with us all day. We are already as intimate as possible. Bobo is more friendly to them than their supposed niece. She was in a grinding temper last night after they had gone, and properly threw things about."

"To-day, I fancy, Uncle George must have found an opportunity to give her a call, for she was much chastened. It is a strange and welcome sight to see somebody who can tame her. I could almost like this old man if it were not for some things. He's so sensible! Perhaps that's why he was successful for so long. A sensible crook must be a novelty."

"It is," said Jack.

"To-day they have had all their meals in our rooms. They make me wait on them, because they say I am handier than the men waiters--'and much nicer to look at,' adds Uncle George."

"Confound him!" muttered Jack.

"I don't object to the waiting, of course, for it gives me a chance to hear the table conversation. It is like a comedy. To-day Bobo made a joking reference to the hundred and fifty thousand dollar necklace that Miriam's heart was set on. The old man just looked at her with those icy blue eyes, and she hung her head. The necklace has not been mentioned since.

"Another thing, Uncle George was responsible for firing Chalfonte to-day. Apparently Chalfonte can't be a member of the gang, but a private friend of Miriam's. At any rate his doom was sealed from the moment Uncle George turned up. He was insolent at the table in his usual way, and, backed up by Uncle, Bobo fired him on the spot. Miriam couldn't say a word. Bobo is beginning to think Uncle George is the most wonderful man on earth.

"'What do you want a secretary for, anyway,' Uncle said to Bobo.

"Bobo stammered something about knowing nothing about business.

"'Pshaw!' said Uncle in his hearty way. 'If you want any advice come to me!'"

"Did you get a sample of his handwriting?" asked Jack.

"Yes, by great good luck. I didn't see how I was going to manage it. But he wrote a note in our rooms to-day. I was hoping he might give it to me to post, but he didn't. However, there was a new blotter on the desk, which took a perfect impression of several lines that he wrote. I have just mailed you the blotter. Hold it up to a mirror. The note you see is just a bit of camouflage. He is enclosing a subscription to the Buffalo Express."

"What about their arrangements for to-morrow?" asked Jack.

"I can only tell you about lunch. I know that Uncle George and Aunt Sally are coming to lunch in our rooms because I heard Bobo giving a special order over the 'phone."

"What time?"

"One o'clock."

"Very well. If the handwriting matches up, you may expect us about that time."

"Heavens! How my heart beats when I think of it!"

"You needn't be there if you'd rather not."

"I wouldn't miss it for a farm!"

"Good! Then you can give me a signal. When they are all seated at the table, come down to the door of Silas Gyde's sitting-room and tap three times. On your way back leave the doors open behind you."

Jack possessed three letters in "Mr. B.'s" own hand; that which had fallen on the table in the Alpine Heights restaurant; that which he had found pinned to Bobo's overcoat; and that which had been handed to Mrs. Cleaver in the Hotel Bienvenu. The same hand had likewise kept the card index system. It was a hand of strong individuality, the letters quaintly formed as in antique script, suggesting an orderly, painstaking and somewhat vain character in the writer, who must have gone to no end of trouble to form such a hand in youth.

The piece of blotting paper arrived in the first mail next morning. Held up before a mirror, a single glance was sufficient to identify it. There were the same quaint and artistic characters--unmistakable!

Jack hesitated no longer. He took the first train for Manhattan, and had himself carried to police headquarters in a taxi. To the Deputy Commissioner Jack now told sufficient of his tale to enlist his interest, but withheld the whole, for fear that the official's natural amazement and incredulity might hold things up. The Deputy was satisfied that the genuine John Farrow Norman stood before him, and that was sufficient. Mr. Delamare vouched for it.

Jack asked for eight men, and they were sent for. In the commissioner's office he described to them the man he wanted, and gave his offense as blackmail. A capable sergeant was in charge of the squad. They were to proceed to the Madagascar separately. Four of his men he instructed to wait in the street, in case an escape should be attempted from the windows of the state suite. The sergeant and the other three would assemble in Connolly's room at the hotel and wait until they got word from Jack. Connolly was well known to the sergeant.

Mr. Delamare was anxious to be "in at the death," as he put it, but they persuaded him to wait, and appear on the scene a little later.

Shortly before one o'clock Jack approached the Madagascar on foot from the direction of Eighth avenue. He had had himself set down at the corner, because he thought a taxicab might possibly attract attention in the unfrequented side street. He let himself in by the private entrance leading to Silas Gyde's old rooms. When he was "fired" he had taken the precaution of retaining a set of keys.

Here he waited, pacing up and down the little sitting-room watch in hand. The minutes passed with leaden slowness. He reflected on how much had happened since first he had entered that room with beating heart. No detail of the room was changed: the same expensive furnishings which somehow only created a barren effect--even the kerosene lamp and the heater were still there.

Like all imaginative men on the eve of a decisive action, he became a prey to the blackest forebodings. He remembered how often before the old man had fooled him, when he all but had his hand on him. No doubt his infernal luck would still serve him. They would have changed their plans, and gone out to lunch; or some one had tipped him off--he had his spies out; or his sharp eyes had marked the detectives arriving in the lobby.

In the very midst of these depressing fancies Jack heard the agreed signal, three taps on the door.

A swift reaction passed over him. His spirits soared. "Kitty has not failed me! Everything is all right!" he thought.

He called up the office, and asked for Mr. Connolly. Getting him on the wire, he said:

"Connolly, have you got four men there, waiting for instructions?"

"Yes, sir." The house detective had no idea who was speaking.

"Well, just tell them to take their places."

"Yes, sir."

Jack waited two minutes to give the plainclothes men time to get upstairs. He was thinking: "After all this time, and all these failures, in a minute I shall be actually face to face with him!"

He opened the door into the hotel corridor. Four steps away the door into the end room of the state suite stood ajar. Down the corridor he saw the four detectives taking their places. One was approaching to guard the door by which he entered.

Jack passed quickly and noiselessly through the lower rooms of the suite. In the pocket of his coat he grasped his automatic. He approached the Dutch room through Miriam's "boudoir" since Kate had left the doors open that way. He came upon Kate in this room, standing by a window with her hands pressed tight to her breast to control her agitation. From the Dutch room adjoining came the sound of light talk and laughter.

In passing, Jack touched Kate's cold hand to reassure her--and opened the door. The cheerful sounds of the luncheon party rushed to meet them. He saw the four at the small table. Bobo was facing him and the bald-headed man was opposite Bobo. Miriam had her back to the windows, and the little old woman faced her.

At the opening of the door Miriam turned her head. She was in the act of saying: "Mary, where have you been?" when she saw who it really was, and stopped on a gasp. Bobo looked up and saw, too.

"J-Jack!" he stammered.

With astonishing swiftness the bald-headed man leaped up, knocking his chair over backwards, and, never looking round, ran with head down for the door on the left. This led to the foyer and the main entrance to the suite. The detectives were out there, and Jack let him go. The old lady had covered her face with her hands. Bobo sat like a stone man staring at Jack.

All this happened in a breath. Miriam had sprung up too, and backed away from the table towards the windows. As Jack came further into the room, she suddenly darted behind him into her own room.

Jack was standing listening for sounds from the corridor, when suddenly Kate screamed a warning behind him. He instinctively relaxed, dropping to the floor. There was a shot. The bullet passed about where his head had been, and broke a tankard on the plate rail across the room. From the floor Jack saw the two women struggling for possession of the gun. Springing to Kate's aid, he disarmed Miriam. She retreated to the farthest corner of the room, panting and snarling like an animal.

The sounds from outside were reassuring. There was a scuffle and the bald-headed man was pushed back into the room by two detectives. He still had his head down, but as he came opposite Jack he suddenly raised it with cool and smiling effrontery. It was Jack's turn to be dumbfounded.

"Harmon Evers!" he cried.

It was indeed the philosophic little wig-maker.

39

Jack stared at his adversary open-mouthed. He required an appreciable time to adjust himself to the situation. His face turned grim--but he could see the joke on himself too.

"No wonder you were on to every move I made when I went to you for my disguises!"

"Humorous situation, wasn't it?" said Evers mockingly.

"Was it accident?" demanded Jack.

"Oh, no! I willed you to come to me!"

Jack recollected the boy who had first given him Evers' name.