Front matter (continued 4)

"What's the use of lying to me? You're as transparent as window glass!"

"Oh, if you've made up your mind that I'm a liar, what's the use of my saying anything?"

"Look here. Miriam is either what I think she is, or what you think she is. If she's all that's good and pure as you think——"

"As I know!" corrected Bobo.

Jack dryly accepted the correction. "As you know. It can't do her any harm to tell me the truth about what happened to-day."

"I can't!" said Bobo obstinately.

"I suppose she made you promise not to tell me."

Bobo was silent.

"Very well. Now listen. When you came with me the first condition of our agreement was that you should obey orders. Isn't that so?"

Bobo nodded sullenly.

"Well, I order you to tell me what happened to-day. That lets you out of any promise you may have made."

Poor Bobo was quite unable to stand out against a stronger nature. "Oh, since you put it that way, I have seen her."

"Where?"

"In the Park. On a bench near that fountain down the steps at the end of the Mall. We used to sit there sometimes in the sun. And I just went back on a chance—well you know!"

"Sure, I know how you feel," said Jack more sympathetically. "I'm sorry to see so much good feeling wasted."

"It's not wasted. While I was sitting there a woman came by heavily veiled. I didn't know her at first, but when she saw me she gave a little cry. It was forced from her. She didn't mean to let me recognize her. She tried to get away, but I stopped her."

Jack concealed his smile.

"It was Miriam," Bobo went on. "And what do you think! Just like me she had been attracted to the spot where we had been happy! Wasn't that wonderful!"

"Very wonderful!" said Jack drily.

"She was so overcome she had to sit down for a moment," Bobo continued. "When I reproached her for not sending me word, she said she had been so shocked at the discovery of Mrs. Cleaver's wickedness, she hadn't known what she was doing. Her one idea was to escape from that woman's house. Why didn't you tell me what she had been up to?"

"Never mind that now. Go on with your story."

"When she collected her wits, she said she didn't think it was any use her writing to me, because she was sure I would think she was mixed up in it too."

"Well that was pretty near the truth," Jack put in.

"She said she was sure you would never let such a chance go by of turning me against her."

"But I didn't use it against her, did I?"

"Oh, I expect you had your own reasons. I didn't know what Miriam was talking about. I begged her to tell me what Mrs. Cleaver had been up to, but she refused to believe that I had not been told. Even when I had convinced her I knew nothing she wouldn't tell me because she didn't want to betray her cousin. Bad as she was, she was still her cousin, Miriam said."

"Bosh!" said Jack scornfully. "No more her cousin than you are!"

"Oh, you never believe anything Miriam says," complained Bobo.

"Let that go for the present. What else happened?"

"Nothing much. She was relieved to find out that I didn't think wrong of her. We talked—but we didn't say much." Bobo got red. "Hang it all, I don't have to tell you everything I say to a girl, do I?"

"No," said Jack grinning.

"In the end I promised her I wouldn't tell you I'd seen her. That's all."

"And you're going to see her again, to-night?"

"Y-yes."

"Where?"

"She's stopping temporarily at the Bienvenu."

"Now let's try and let a little light on this subject," said Jack. "She's always saying that I'm trying to turn you against her, isn't she?"

"Yes, and it's true."

"What reason does she give for my actions?"

"Why—I don't know."

"Think a little. Her idea is that I am afraid of her influence over you, because it may threaten mine, isn't it?"

"Well—yes."

"And that's ridiculous, isn't it?"

But Bobo was obstinately silent.

"Good God!" cried Jack. "Are you my boss or aren't you?"

"No," muttered Bobo.

"Then what possible motive could I have for wishing to turn you against her?"

"I don't know," said Bobo sullenly. "I can't read your mind."

Jack threw up his hands. "You're so stuck on your role of multi-millionaire, that you're always forgetting it's only a role you're playing. Now listen. I'm going to tell you the whole truth about Mrs. Cleaver and Miriam. It's all I can do for you. In the first place Mrs. Cleaver has been in the pay of the old man for three years. It was he who supplied the coin to keep up that house. I caught her with the goods."

"Impossible!" gasped Bobo. "A society woman like that! You're sure you are not mistaken?"

"Read that," said Jack, handing him Mr. B.'s letter to Mrs. Cleaver.

Bobo's hair almost stood on end as he recognized the handwriting, and appreciated the significance of what he read.

"But—but Miriam didn't know anything about this. She said she was stunned when she learned of what her cousin——"

"Please don't give me any more of that stuff. Mrs. Cleaver was only the old man's catspaw, but Miriam is a confidential insider."

"How do you know that?"

"Well, for one thing Mrs. Cleaver told me the old man had sent Miriam to her."

"But you've just said the woman was a crook. That's no proof."

"Oh, that's not all I have against Miriam. It appears that she was practicing her wiles on Silas Gyde before he was killed."

From his desk Jack got the unfinished letter that the dead millionaire had left behind him. To Bobo he read that part of it which referred to Miriam.

Bobo was shaken but unconvinced. "That description might fit dozens of girls," he said.

"Sure," said Jack, "all except the peculiar mole on the inside of her right forefinger. Ever noticed that?"

"N-no."

"Well, I have. If you're going to see her again, I recommend that you look for it."

Bobo was now weakening fast "What do you suppose her game is?"

"That's easy. To marry you and get a strangle hold on your supposed millions. Now I didn't want to tell you all this because it endangers the game I'm playing. But I got you into it, and I don't want your blood on my conscience either."

"My b-blood!" stammered Bobo, white as a sheet.

Jack said simply: "If you let yourself be inveigled into marrying that girl, when she finds out you haven't got a sou, she'll kill you. She's that kind."

Bobo shook as with an ague. "I'll never see her again," he whispered. "I swear it!"

22

Jack—in the character of Mr. Pitman, had now reached a degree of intimacy with Dave Anderson, manager of the Eureka Protective Association, sufficient to enable him to drop into Anderson's private office at any hour during the day without exciting remark. He was careful never to display the least curiosity concerning Anderson's business, but simply kept his eyes and ears open and picked up what he could.

His patience was rewarded at last. One morning as he entered the private office, he found Anderson engaged in tying up a little packet, the significant size and shape of which made Jack's heart beat faster.

"Remittance day," said the indiscreet Anderson carelessly. "Just wait till I get this off to the boss, and I'll go out and have a smile with you."

Jack had instantly made up his mind to follow that packet. "Sorry," he said, "can't stop now. Just dropped in to ask you the number of your cigar-maker on lower Sixth avenue. I've got to go down in that neighborhood, and I thought I'd get some."

"81 Sixth," said Anderson. "Will we lunch to-day?"

"All right," said Jack, "I'll be back in time."

Meanwhile Anderson was writing the address on the packet. Jack after considerable practice had taught himself to read his writing upside down. He now read:

"MR. PETER FEATHERSTONE, Hotel Abercrombie. (To be called for.)"

This was all he required. He bade Anderson good-by, and went out. Having plenty of time, he proceeded in leisurely fashion to the Abercrombie, one of the great hotels in the Thirty-Fourth street district. He was filled with a great hope.

"Please God, I'll get him this time. I'm safe against recognition in the Pitman disguise. I won't call on any plainclothes man now, but trust to myself."

Prudence restrained him from premature rejoicings. "No counting of chickens this time!" he warned himself. "Remember you're dealing with a customer as slick as an eel. If he slips through your fingers you've got to be prepared to begin all over to-morrow!"

In the pillared lobby of the Abercrombie Jack bought a newspaper, and planted himself in a chair in such wise, that while appearing to be absorbed in the news, he could command all that went on at the desk.

As he was waiting there little Harmon Evers the wig-maker passed through. Jack, not wishing to be recognized by any one just then, buried himself a little deeper in his newspaper, but Evers stopped beside him, nodding and smiling. His expression approved the Pitman make-up as put on by Jack.

"Couldn't have done better myself," he said.

Jack couldn't help but be flattered. "One becomes expert with practice," he said.

"You're on your business and I'm on mine," Evers said with a sly smile, indicating a little satchel that he carried.

"I didn't know you had to go out to yours," said Jack.

"Oh, yes, there's an elderly matinee idol lives here, who wouldn't dare leave his room until I have renovated him. If there was an alarm of fire before I got here, I believe he'd burn up."

Jack laughed.

"But I see you have serious affairs on your mind. Au revoir. Come down to my place when you can, and we'll talk philosophy."

With a nod and a smile he went on to the elevator.

Meanwhile Jack had missed nothing of what went on at the desk. In a short while a messenger boy came in carrying the packet he had seen in Anderson's hands. It was receipted for at the desk and tossed in the pigeonhole marked "F" of the division for letters to be called for.

For twenty minutes thereafter Jack watched the comedy of "The Hotel Desk" being played before him. Unfortunately his mind was at too great a tension to permit him to enjoy the finer shades of comedy. He silently swore at the crowd and the confusion which made it well-nigh impossible for one pair of eyes to follow all that was going on.

He concentrated on the letter box marked "F," and watched it until his eyeballs seemed ready to crack.

Finally the hand of one of the clerks shot out to that box, and hastily shuffling the contents, picked out the packet again. Jack's heart gave a jump. He hastily scanned the row in front of the desk at the moment, but there was no figure among them that answered to the descriptions of "Mr. B." At the end of the row was another messenger boy. The clerk handed the packet to him.

"Of course he wouldn't come himself," thought Jack.

Jack followed the messenger out of the hotel. Boy-like, he shambled up the street, whistling vociferously, tossing the packet in the air and catching it again, careless of the pedestrians he collided with in his exercise. Presumably had he known the contents he would have treated the packet with greater respect.

He turned West in Thirty-Fourth street, stopping to gaze in every window that attracted his attention. Jack was hard put to it to accommodate himself to the snail-like pace without being conspicuous. At the Madison avenue corner an automobile had broken down. The boy hailed this diversion with glee, and Jack, too, had to stand around until the youngster had gazed his fill.

Suddenly the boy aimlessly darted across the street like a bird—or a boy, threading his way among the cars hurrying in both directions. Jack almost lost him then. He finally picked him up on the other side, engaged in converse with another messenger. An argument developed and hostilities were threatened.

"I kin lick you wit' one hand behind me."

"You're anutter!"

"Want to see me do it?"

"Ya-ah!"

"You jus' say any more and you'll see!"

"I ain't askeered of yeh, yeh big stiff!"

"You say that again!"

"Ahh! I dare yeh to touch me! I dare yeh!"

And so on, and so on. Jack, feeling very foolish, had to make out to be studying the pattern of a rug displayed in a nearby window. Anybody who knows boys knows that these discussions are apt to be kept up a long time without getting anywhere. But they end as suddenly as they begin. Having exhausted their powers of repartee they parted, instantly forgetting each other. Jack's quarry continued around the corner and up Fifth avenue.

There were other interruptions; a man was painting a sign; another was dressing a window. Jack almost despaired of arriving at any destination. He wondered if the old man was as impatiently awaiting his packet. Finally it began to rain, and the boy mended his pace a little. He led Jack into the Public Library, and Jack with an accelerated beating of the heart wondered if the rendezvous were here. But the boy went out again by the Forty-Second street door, and it appeared he had only been taking advantage of the long corridors to walk dry shod.

The messenger darted across Forty-Second street in his usual reckless style, and Jack found himself back in the vicinity of the Eureka offices. To his astonishment, the boy turned into that very building. Jack went up in the elevator with him. He got put at the fourth floor, and entered the Eureka offices.

Jack lingered in the corridor, biting his lips in chagrin. All his trouble amounted to this, that he had been led back to the point he started from. He wondered if it were possible that the seemingly heedless Anderson had turned a clever trick on him. He felt that he had to find out at whatever risk. He had a good excuse to enter, for he had said he would be back. He entered, passing through the outer office into Anderson's room as he was accustomed to do.

Anderson was in the act of receipting for the packet. He greeted Jack without the least departure from his usual careless air, and Jack felt relieved. The boy went out, already pursing up his lips to whistle. It all meant nothing to him.

Jack ventured to say with an indifferent air: "Why, when I left you, you were just sending out a packet like that."

"It was the very same package," Anderson replied. "Funny thing, half an hour after I sent it the boss called up again, and said he'd changed his mind and wanted it at the Hotel Madagascar. He never did that before. I sent after it, but the boy was so long coming back, I went to the bank and drew more. 'Tain't healthy to keep the boss waiting too long. I just sent off the second lot."

"Madagascar!" thought Jack. "My own hotel! He has a nerve. Maybe there's a chance to get him there!"

"Ready for lunch?" asked Anderson.

"Sorry, I can't go with you to-day," said Jack. "I've had a hurry call from the house to go up to Yonkers. Just dropped in to tell you not to wait."

"Oh, too bad!" said Anderson. "See you to-morrow?"

"Sure!"

23

While he descended in the elevator Jack thought quickly. His thoughts were not altogether pleasant ones. Evidently "Mr. B." or one of his agents had seen him watching in the Abercrombie and had taken warning. If this were so his disguise had been seen through. Jack did not so much mind the fact that his adversary had given him the slip again, but he had counted heavily on that disguise. And now the whole structure that he had built upon it was crumbling.

But he was far from being discouraged. "Mr. B." had had the nerve to choose the Madagascar. Very well, he would try to call his bluff there. Since it was his own hotel he didn't have to waste the time to get there. He could telephone ahead. He hastened to the nearest booth.

He got the desk at the Madagascar. Establishing the fact that the voice on the wire was that of Baldwin, a clerk well known to him, he said:

"This is Robinson speaking, Mr. Norman's secretary. Do you recognize my voice?"

"Yes, sir, certainly, Mr. Robinson."

"Listen carefully. There's a crook trying to pull a little game on Mr. Norman, and I've framed up a plant to get him with the goods. Do you get me?"

"Yes, sir."

"There's just been a package delivered to the desk there, or will be delivered in a few minutes addressed to Mr. Peter Featherstone, to be called for. No, wait a minute! That name may have been changed—but I'm sure about the package. It's a small flat package the size and shape of a bundle of greenbacks laid flat. It's wrapped in a sheet of white typewriter paper, and tied with a green string. Look and see if you have such a package there now. I'll hold the wire." Presently the answer came: "Yes, sir, we have such a package, but it's addressed to Mr. Amos Tewkesbury."

"That's all right," said Jack. "The name doesn't signify. Now I want you to keep Connolly the house detective within call, and have him arrest, as quietly as possible, whoever calls for that package. Keep the man in the room behind the office until I can get there. I'll go in by the side door and telephone down to you from our suite. Is that all clear?"

"Perfectly, sir."

Jack hailed a taxi and had himself carried home, that is to say to Kate's house, where Mr. Pitman had his ostensible domicile. It was not the sober Mr. Pitman's habit to employ taxis, but this was an urgent case. Jack had to remove the Pitman make-up, of course, before he could show himself around the Madagascar.

He hastily changed to the more elegant attire of the millionaire's secretary, and then made his way through the vault into Silas Gyde's old rooms, thence across the corridor to the rear of the state apartments. Something less than half an hour had elapsed since he had called up Baldwin.

Bobo was there, moping in a dressing-gown while he waited for lunch time, the only thing that relieved his heavy hours. He brightened a little at the sight of some one to whom he might pour out his troubles.

"I wish I were dead!" he groaned.

Jack was in no mood to listen to him then. He ran to the telephone, and snatched the receiver from the hook.

"What's up?" said Bobo, infected with his excitement.

"Give me Mr. Baldwin at the desk," Jack said to the operator.

"Hello, Baldwin. This is Robinson. Have you got my man?"

"Yes, sir, we've got him all right!"

"Thank God! Have him quietly brought up here."

Jack hung up the receiver and did a go-as-you-please around the Dutch room, hurdling the chairs. Bobo gazed at him goggle-eyed.

"What on earth——!"

"I've got him!" cried Jack. "I've got him! I did it with my own little wits. Once too often he tried to fool me! He was just a little too nervy trying to pull something in my own hotel!"

"Got who? The old man himself!" cried Bobo amazed.

"Joy and deliverance!" sang Jack. "All honest millionaires can now sleep easy o' nights!"

"But what's going to become of me now?" said poor Bobo.

Jack's transports were interrupted by a ring at the outer door of the suite. He ran to it and flung it open.

Bitter disappointment awaited him.

It was not the famous, much-desired "Mr. B" that he saw outside nor was it a figure that could possibly have taken his shape. Connolly, the house detective, had his huge hand on the shoulder of a slinking, weedy youth with sallow vacuous face, and cigarette stained fingers; in other words, the typical loafer of the Times Square neighborhood. Baldwin was behind the pair, eager to see what would happen.

"Oh, that's not my man!" cried Jack.

There was an awkward silence.

"I followed your instructions to the letter," said Baldwin, eager to justify himself. "You said to arrest any man that asked for that package. This man asked for it."

"Sure," said Jack quickly. "You did right. I'm disappointed, that's all."

"I haven't done anything," whined the prisoner. "What are you going to do to me?"

"Shall I let him go, sir?" boomed Connolly.

Jack roused himself. "Not on your life," he said. "He's got to give an account of himself. Bring him in and shut the door." To the weedy youth he said: "Who sent you here?"

The answer came voluble and craven: "I don't know who the guy was. I never seen him before. Honest, I didn't know there was anything crooked in it. I'm no crook, boss."

"Describe the man who sent you here."

The answer came readily: "A medium old guy, stoutish, not real fat. Had his hair brushed in a funny way, old-fashioned-like, and a little chin whisker."

"That's my man!" said Jack grimly. "Where did you meet him?"

"I was standin' in front of the pitcher theater on Seventh below Forty-Second with some other fellows when a big black limousine car came along and stopped at the curb. We all took notice of it, it was such a long car, long as an ambulance. The door opened a little way, and an old guy leaned out and held up a finger to me.

"He asks me if I want to earn a dollar, and I says sure. So he tells me to go to the desk of the Madagascar, and ask for a package for Mr. Amos Tewkesbury, and bring it to him. But he said he wouldn't be in the car when I got back. He said he'd be standing on the northwest corner of Forty-Second Street and Seventh, and I wasn't to stop when I saw him, but just slip him the package, and take the dollar he'd be holding in his hand. That's all. I didn't see no wrong in it."

"Maybe he's lying, sir," said Connolly.

Jack shook his head. "Sounds like my man," he said.

"What'll I do with him, sir?"

"Let him have the package and let him go," said Jack.

To the prisoner he said sternly: "Your story may be true, but this is an ugly business you've mixed yourself up in. You'd have a hard time proving your innocence in court. The only way you can square yourself is by helping us pinch this crook."

The sallow youth turned a shade paler. "He's stronger than me, and he's heeled," he muttered.

"I don't want you to lay hands on him. I'll take care of that. You follow your instructions just as he gave them to you. Hand him the package without stopping. Go quickly, and don't look behind you."

To Connolly Jack said: "Take a taxi to the corner of Eighth and Forty-Second, and walk back on Forty-Second. You've heard the description of the man I want, and the car he rides in. If he gives me the slip, and tries to escape towards the West, nab him."

It was still raining. Jack snatched up an umbrella and, opening it with his penknife, made a little triangular cut midway in the silk.

"My disguise," he said.

The sallow youth, clasping the package, hurried out of the hotel with Jack at his heels. Jack raised the umbrella and held it low over his head. Thus while his face was hidden from the passersby, he could still see ahead through the little hole. The stretch of pavement between the Madagascar and Forty-Second street was as thronged as it is twenty hours out of the twenty-four, even in the rain.

They had crossed Forty-Third street and were within two hundred feet of the appointed place. Jack was peering eagerly ahead through his peep-hole, when suddenly his umbrella was knocked sideways, and a clawlike hand clutched his wrist. A cracked voice squalled:

"Stop him! He snatched my pocketbook!"

It was a bent little old woman in a queer rusty bonnet over a brown wig. She wore glasses so thick, that her eyes were like little points far behind them. She redoubled her cries.

"He's a thief! He stole my pocketbook!"

Jack crimsoned with anger and mortification. He was helpless. To knock the old woman out of the way would only have been to convict himself of her preposterous charge. In five seconds a great crowd was pushing and shoving around them.

"All my money! All my money!" wailed the old woman, and actually two tears rolled down her withered cheeks. It was the perfection of acting.

A loud murmur of sympathy went up from the crowd, and violent threats were made in Jack's face. He ground his teeth in impotent rage. Anything he might have said would only have made matters worse. He retained the presence of mind to keep his mouth shut.

"Hold him!" cried the old woman. "I'll get a policeman!"

Half a dozen pairs of hands seized Jack roughly. The old woman threaded her way with surprising celerity through the crowd.

Jack permitted himself to say: "You'll never see her again. It's a frame-up to let her and her partner make a getaway."

"Shut up, you thief!" they roared. "Shut up, or we'll smash your hat over your eyes." Those behind who had little idea of what was going on roared out of sympathy.

But the temper of a crowd is subject to abrupt changes. A minute passed and the old woman did not return. It suddenly struck the people that the well-dressed Jack, proud, angry and silent, did not much resemble a purse-snatcher. Jack, feeling the change, said scornfully:

"Do you see her coming back? I tell you it's a frame-up."

The men who had hold of Jack became uncertain, and finally let go. Jack elbowed his way out, and none sought to stop him now. The crowd dissolved. The whole incident had occupied less than two minutes, but that was long enough to do the mischief. The packet presumably had been handed over, and both messenger and principal swallowed up.

Jack hastened over the remaining distance to the corner of Forty-Second street. Neither the sallow youth nor the old gentleman with the imperial was visible of course. Jack hesitated at a loss which way to turn. There was a chance that the old man, having received the money, had turned Westward and so might be intercepted by Connolly, but it was a faint one.

While Jack stood there the traffic officer at that important crossing gave the signal for the East and West-bound traffic to cross, and a double line of cars darted across Seventh Avenue. Fourth in the line of those bound East Jack saw the long black limousine that had been so often described to him.

As it flashed by he had a glimpse of a silk-hatted head with gray hair brushed forward of the ears, ruddy complexion, gray moustache and imperial. Alongside was the rusty black bonnet and the brown wig. The man's head was down, and his attitude suggested he was counting something in his lap. The woman's glance followed his.

It was Jack's first glimpse of his quarry, and his hunting instinct was spurred to action. He made a zig-zag dash across the street under the very wheels of motors and trolley cars. The black limousine was out of his reach, but by great good luck he found a taxicab standing by the curb with its engine running.

He flung himself in, crying: "Four times your fare if you can keep that car in sight. A hundred dollars if I am able to arrest the couple in it!"

The taxi leaped ahead. Jack lowered the front window, and leaning forward, pointed out the right car to the chauffeur. In a wild spurt down Forty-Second street they gained half a block on the limousine. They just managed to get across Sixth avenue before the whistle blew. At Fifth the whole line was held up for perhaps half a minute. The press was so great here, Jack could not see the black car, but he had carefully marked its position, about six cars ahead.

When the whistle blew for the East and West traffic to resume they saw it turn down Fifth with a burst of speed. They followed. In and out of the close traffic the big car threaded its way with a wonderful exhibition of sang-froid on the part of the chauffeur. Jack had a good chauffeur too. But a race through such a crowd is purely a matter of luck. They never succeeded in getting within less than five car lengths of their prize. Jack saw that the black car now bore a Georgia license. He made note of the number.

At Thirty-Fourth street the line was held up again. The whistle had just blown, and this promised to be a longer stoppage. Jack jumped out of the taxi, and ran ahead down the line with fast beating heart.

The black limousine was empty.

Jack gritted his teeth. "The devil's own luck favors him," he thought. "They must have left the car during the block on Forty-Second."

The chauffeur had not seen him. Jack did not approach him, thinking it better to take a chance of following him to his garage. The line got in motion again, and Jack swung himself aboard his taxi as it passed.

At Twenty-Eighth street the whistle blew just as the black car was crossing. It continued blithely down the avenue, the chauffeur waggling a derisive hand outside his car. Jack would have risked defying the whistle, but his way was effectually blocked by other cars in front and on both sides.

"My luck again!" he groaned.

They were held up there while a ten-horse truck bearing a steel girder crawled across the Avenue. When the whistle gave them leave to move again, the limousine had disappeared into a side street. They saw it no more.

Jack had the license number, but an investigation instituted by telegraph only proved as he expected, that that number had been issued to some one giving a mythical address in Atlanta. As for notifying the New York police, he knew very well that within half an hour the license tags on the black limousine would be changed.

24

The most indomitable spirits have their dark hours, and this was Jack's. He returned to the Madagascar feeling that he had come to the end of his resources. It was hard to bear with the commiseration of the hotel detective and clerk on his failure; and he was in no mood to put up with Bobo's selfish complaints.

Bobo's reasoning powers, as has been seen, were of a primitive simplicity. Like a child or a savage he was always under the complete sway of the feeling of the moment. Just now he was, or thought he was, broken-hearted over the loss of Miriam. Forgetting that he had given her up of his own free will, and for good cause, he blamed Jack for all his present misery.

"Did you get him?" he asked when Jack came in.

"No."

To say that Bobo was pleased at the escape of "Mr. B." would be putting it too strongly, but he was certainly not sorry to see Jack's discomfiture.

"Huh! You're too sure of yourself!" he said.

Jack flashed an angry look at him, but said nothing.

"You always think you know more than anybody else!" Bobo unwisely went on. "You're always making up your mind what people are, and telling them what, to do, and all. You want to regulate the universe."

"Still thinking about that girl!" said Jack. "Will you please tell me what Mr. B.'s giving me the slip has got to do with her?"

"I'm just telling you you don't know everything," said Bobo with a superior air.

It was too much. Jack's patience snapped suddenly. "You fool! Your talk has as much sense as barnyard cackle! Is it my fault that you lost your head over an adventuress? This is the thanks I get for trying to save you! For Heaven's sake, go and marry her and be damned to you! But stop grousing about it to me!"

He went out slamming the door, and leaving a much-scared Bobo behind him. Passing through the suite, he crossed to Gyde's old rooms, and let himself through the vault into his room in Kate's house. There was a great change in this room. Under the present régime it was a model of neatness and comfort.

Here Jack lit his pipe and flung himself down, and a measure of peace returned to him. There was comfort in the silence, and in the thought of the locks that secured him from the chatter of fools.

"The old boy wasn't so far wrong when he built himself a refuge like this," he thought.

But by and by when the fragrant smoke had steadied his nerves, he began to tire of solitude. To particularize, he desired the society of a certain person, to wit: the mistress of the house.

In order to see her it was necessary for him to assume the Pitman make-up. Much against his will—he was thinking of putting Mr. Pitman out of the way now, he arrayed himself in that character, and sallied forth in search of Kate.

He found her in her own sunny sitting-room on the floor above. The old-fashioned mother was there too. Mrs. Storer was not in the secret of Jack's disguise. She considered Mr. Pitman rather a common fellow, but was always polite. Now after a few minutes' small conversation, she recollected an errand in her well-trained way, and left the room.

Kate was sewing. The needle became her better than the typewriter. As mistress of a house she seemed to have discovered her true vocation. It may be mentioned in passing that this establishment was a success, and was already paying its way.

"We don't see much of you now," said Kate.

"It's not from not wanting to on my part," he said, watching her dreamily. "But a twenty-four hour day scarcely gives you time enough to play one part, let alone two or three." The sunlight behind her was making a little halo in the edges of her dark hair, and he scarcely knew what his tongue was saying.

"How are things going?" she asked.

The consciousness of defeat still rankled in Jack's breast; he felt a very natural desire to shine in somebody's eyes, so he said carelessly:

"My net is closing around the old man. He can't escape me now. I'll gather him in, when my case is complete."

"Fine!" said Kate.

But Jack could not be sure there was not a faint ring of irony in her voice. He never could be sure of Kate.

"All my lines are working well," he went on. "I had a glimpse of the old man to-day, but I thought it was better to let him go for awhile. I'm not sure of being able to convict him."

"This morning when you left this house I believe you were followed," said Kate.

Jack was not going to admit just then that there was anything he had overlooked. "Oh, I think not."

"Well, I noticed a man standing at the corner looking at this house. His hat was pulled down over his eyes. As soon as you went out he disappeared."

"I take precautions against being trailed," said Jack.

"And I believe somebody has been tampering with the servants," Kate went on. "Yesterday I found Bessie, the upstairs girl, exhibiting entirely too much curiosity as to the arrangements of your room. I shall let her go at the end of the week."

"It isn't possible they could have discovered the secret of this house," said Jack. Something told him he was talking fatuously, but a little devil of perversity held sway over him for the time being.

"You know best of course," said Kate.

This time he was almost sure he heard the ironical note, and he glanced at her uneasily. But the dark head was bent too low over her work for him to read her face. He felt a mighty desire to humble this cool and scornful maid, and changed his tack.

"You're looking very charming to-day."

"Thank you."

He got up, and sat as close to her as he could pull a chair.

"Go back where you were," she said calmly.

"I won't!" he said masterfully.

"Then I will." And she changed to the chair he had left.

Jack glowered at her. "One would think I spread a contagion."

"Well, you know I don't care particularly for Mr. Pitman."

"That's only an excuse. It's me you don't care for."

She laughed tantalizingly. Jack saw now that he had started wrong but didn't quite see how to repair the original mistake. He got up to go. He knew that if he lost his temper, he would be completely at her mercy.

"I'd better go if we're only going to quarrel," he muttered.

"Who's quarreling? Can't you take a joke?"

"It's like a flick of the whip on the raw."

He had sounded the right note at last. She heard the real pain in his voice, and jumped up, careless of where the sewing went.

"Jack, wait a minute! What's the matter?"

He paused with his hand on the door-knob. "Nothing."

"What's the matter?" she repeated. "I insist on knowing!"

"Oh, well, things have gone a bit wrong. What do you care?"

She actually stamped her foot. "How dare you speak to me that way! You came in here like the Lord Hereditary Marshal of England. How was I to know?"

"Well, I didn't want to let on that I had balled things up," he said sheepishly.

"You idiot! Will you ever learn the first rudiments of sense? Sit down here!" She pulled him down beside her Pitman make-up and all. "Now tell me all about it!"

Jack looked at her a little dazed by this sudden change of front. "Why—I thought you were just having a little fun with me."

"Certainly I was. You asked for it. Whenever you take that 'my poor little woman' tone with me, you simply give me a pain. But if you are really up against it—Ah!"

Her voice caught on a deep low note of tenderness. Jack gave up all thoughts of mastery; he would have been quite content to kiss her hand.

"Well, I am up against it," he said quite humbly and naturally—and told her all about it.

She said nothing until he was through; then: "There's no occasion to be cast down that I can see. You and the old man are playing a close game, and he's turned a trick on you. But the game's not over yet."

"He's so darn sure of himself!" grumbled Jack. "He knows what I have on him, but he goes around quite openly in his old black hearse! Shows himself everywhere. Goes on making his blackguardly collections right under my nose. He seems to enjoy playing with me."

"That's a kind of vanity," said Kate. "I have read that criminals often display it. It is that very thing that will surely deliver him into your hands in the end if you bide your time. Some day he is bound to take a chance too many."

Jack began to feel comforted. "I believe I could have him arrested to-morrow if I gave his description to the police," he said.

"Then why don't you?"

He shook his head obstinately. "I've got to do this myself. I've sworn it.—But how does he know I'm not going to turn over my case to the police? He seems to be able to read my mind!"

"Oh, there's no magic in that. He watches you of course, and anybody who knew anything about you must know that you would feel that way."

There was subtle flattery in this, and Jack began to feel warm about the heart once more.

"Well, he hasn't put me out of the game yet, though on this deal he has certainly called all my tricks. The minute I tried to use Mrs. Cleaver he trumped her. He has called the Pitman disguise, and he must know about my connection with Anderson. If he has spotted me coming out of this house, he must have guessed that there is a way through from the hotel. I'll have to think up an entirely new combination."

"How does the situation stand with the anarchists?" asked Kate.

"Nothing new down there since I told you. I am now a full member of the circle that Emil Jansen belonged to, but so far I have not succeeded in establishing 'Mr. B's' connection with it. I know there is a connection, because the murderers of both Ames Benton and Silas Gyde graduated from that circle. I have to move slowly there."

"Then there is the girl Miriam," suggested Kate. "I believe you could do something with her. Do you know where she is now?"

"Bobo told me she was at the Hotel Bienvenu. But she hates me like poison."

Kate smiled a little. "From what you've told me about her I gathered that she had a weakness of vanity, too. She was piqued because you resisted her charms. Why don't you look her up and well—not resist them quite so hard?"

"Kate!" he said scandalized.

"What?" she said with an innocent air.

"You recommend me to do that!"

"Why not? We don't owe her any consideration, I suppose."

"Oh, it's not that. But if you cared about me the least little bit, you wouldn't be handing me over to another woman."

"That's up to you. I couldn't be jealous of one like Miriam. If you are in any danger from that source, Mercy! I don't want you."

"In other words you know you've got me thrown and hog-tied!" he said scowling.

"Don't be vulgar. This is simply business. You really have a chance of getting somewhere through her. The old man will be sending her remittances now. If you could trace one of those back to its source——"

"Good! That's an idea! I think I see my way, too." His lassitude was gone. A fresh determination filled him. "Kate, you are my good fairy!" he cried. "You have put new life into me! I am going to start to work again this very minute!"

She said nothing, but her eyes were bright.

At the door of the room he paused, holding her hand. "You might let me kiss you before I go," he said diffidently. "Just as a kind of encouragement to go in and win."

Kate smiled. "That's the first time you ever asked me with becoming modesty.—Once. Right here." She put her finger on the dimple in her right cheek.

He did.

25

When Jack got back to the Madagascar, Bobo had gone out. Jack was relieved not to find him. Full of his new plans, he went on down to the office. He was now attired again his proper person as Mr. Robinson of course. He looked up Baldwin at the desk. Baldwin naturally was keen to know more about the mysterious case that Jack was engaged on.

"Baldwin, I've got a new line on my man," said Jack. "Do you happen to know any of the men behind the desk at the Bienvenu?"

"Surest thing you know. I've got a pal there. Name of Dick Starr."

"What's his job?"

"Room clerk. One of the head men."

"Will you introduce me?"

"Sure! When?"

"The sooner the better."

"I'm coming off duty now. I'll go right down there with you."

Starr of the Bienvenu proved to be just such another suave and irreproachable man of the world as Baldwin, but somewhat older. He knew all about Jack; no doubt the two friends had discussed him. While the real secret of Jack's identity was safe, it was understood among those whose business it was to inform themselves of such matters, that the secretary was the real power behind the Norman throne. Consequently he enjoyed more than the usual consideration shown to a multi-millionaire's secretary.

Starr took them into a little room behind the office.

Jack said: "The fact is, I'm doing a bit of detective work for my employer, and one of my clues leads to the Bienvenu. I want your help."

"Anything in my power!" Starr assured him.

"You have a young lady stopping here called Miriam Culbreth?"

Starr nodded. "Some Cleopatra!" he murmured.

"The same," said Jack. "Now some time during the next few days I have reason to believe that a package will be sent her by messenger. Small, flat packet about three inches by seven."

"Packages don't go through the desk."

"But in this case I am pretty sure the boy will be instructed to hand it to her personally."

"Oh, in that case—Want me to have a look in it?"

"Simpler than that!" said Jack. "Just get me that boy's number so I can trace him."

Starr assured Jack that he would be happy to serve him. He seemed a little disappointed that he was not called upon to play a more important part.

They strolled out into the lobby again, and at that identical instant Miriam herself came through the revolving doors. But Jack saw her first.

"Duck, you fellows! Duck!" he whispered swiftly. "Make out you don't know me!"

Messrs. Baldwin and Starr being experienced men of the world, knew how to act. They inconspicuously faded from Jack's side.

Miriam in sables and paradise plumes swam into the Bienvenu like a swan. Not a man in the place but drew a long breath of longing at the sight of her and looked enviously at the man slinking at her heels. Your haughty beauty always brings a man with her like a small dog on a leader.

This man was Bobo.

Jack went up to them with glad smiles. "Hello! This is a surprise!"

It was manifestly a surprise to them. Bobo turned a delicate pea green shade, and had nothing to say. The girl smiled charmingly, but her eyes were like two points of ice.

Jack thought: "She thinks I've tracked them here. There's something up. I'll find out what it is."

"We just dropped in for tea," said Miriam languidly.

"Fine!" said Jack. "I'm starving! I'll join you."

She laughed like icicles tinkling. "Hadn't you better wait until——"

"Pshaw! What's an invite between friends!" said Jack. "Come on, I'll blow."

Miss Culbreth was a resourceful person, and eminently self-possessed, but for once Jack had the satisfaction of putting her out of countenance. She turned indignantly to Bobo, as if to call upon him to assert himself, but seeing that she could expect no help from that stricken figure, she hung her head uncertainly. Jack led the pair of them like lambs to the slaughter to the tea room.

Passing the elevators Bobo said huskily: "Thought you were going upstairs to dress."

"I won't bother now," she said.

Jack thought: "Wouldn't leave him alone with me for a farm!"

As a tea-party, the half hour that followed was not a howling success. Bobo crouched in his chair avoiding Jack's eye like a guilty spaniel. Miriam kept her eyes down too, but for a different reason; she didn't want Jack to see the hatred that burned there. The tapering white hand trembled a little in the business of pouring tea.

The onus of keeping things going was therefore upon Jack. Something humorous in the situation excited his risibilities. He experienced a pleasant malice in making out to the others that he saw nothing out of the way. He rattled on like a youth without a care in the world. Anything furnished him with a cue.

"See that old girl in crimson velvet. The famous Mrs. Paul Towers. Used to be Mrs. Peter Vesey. Sold herself to Peter in order to buy Paul, the saying is around town. That's Paul Towers with her. Exactly half her age. Poor devil! He pays high for his meals. They say he has to turn in an itemized expense account like a traveling salesman."

"He's not the only parasite in town," remarked Miriam acidly.

Jack chuckled. "Bless your heart, no! The woods are full of us! What's a handsome young man with delightful manners and not a cent to his name going to do!"

Miriam snorted scornfully.

"But I tell you it's no cinch to be a parasite," continued Jack. "It requires qualifications of a very high order. Firstly, a resolute determination not to work. Any fool can work, but it needs character to idle gracefully. Then a parasite must have A1 cheek, nerve, brass, gall. It takes an unusual man to make a success of it."

"You're forgetting some of the qualifications," said Miriam.

"I daresay. It's an all round man's job."

"Meanness, obsequiousness, conceit!"

"All very fine qualities!" said Jack with inimitable gravity.

They had been at the table about half an hour when a boy passed through the tea room paging Miss Culbreth. Miriam and Bobo both affected not to hear him, but Jack, scenting developments, called him to their table, and indicated Miriam to him.

"Mr. Spragge is calling," the boy said to Miriam. "Said he was expected."

"Tell him I'm engaged, and he needn't wait," said Miriam languidly. "Say that I will let him hear from me."

Jack noticed that Bobo was betraying an extraordinary agitation. Following a sudden impulse, Jack said carelessly to the boy:

"Who is Mr. Spragge, son?"

Fire flashed from Miriam's eyes, but before she could stop the boy he had answered involuntarily: "The reverend Mr. Spragge, sir. Parson lives in the house here."

"Oh!" said Jack drily.

The boy departed.

There was silence at the table. The constraint which had formerly lain upon them was as the gayety of a childish game to this. Miriam had turned very pale, and she was breathing quickly—signs of rage in her. Bobo's chin lay on his breast, and he was visibly desirous of slipping right under the table cloth.

Jack enjoyed his little triumph in silence. A single word would have precipitated an explosion from Miriam. For reasons of his own Jack wished to avoid a general show-down, and he did not speak it.

He presently resumed the feather-brained rattle, and the tension was a little relieved. The simple-minded Bobo cheered up, evidently having persuaded himself that Jack had attached no significance to the mention of the parson. But the girl knew better. She watched Jack with somber eyes, waiting for him to unmask his guns.

When they had finished their tea Jack ostentatiously consulted his watch. "By George! We'll have to be getting back to the Madagascar!" he cried.

"Who's we?" asked Miriam with a sneer.

"Bobo and I. Mr. Delamare's dining with us to-night," Jack lied glibly.

"Is that true?" Miriam demanded of Bobo.

Poor Bobo lacked the backbone to come out flatly for either one side or the other. He fidgetted miserably. "I don't know. Maybe. I forget."

Miriam's luscious mouth had become a thin red line. "He can't go. He has an engagement with me."

"Now that's too bad!" said Jack with deceitful solicitude. "He can't disappoint a big man like Mr. Delamare. Besides, there are important matters to be decided."

Miriam was near the fulminating point. She looked stormily at Bobo. "Well? Have you nothing to say? It's up to you!"

Bobo made a pitiable attempt to assert himself, but he could not meet Jack's eye. "I didn't know he was coming," he muttered. "I can't go now. Anyway you know about everything. You can talk to him."

"There are papers to be signed," said Jack. "I can't do that."

Bobo hung in an abject state of indecision.

Miriam could stand no more. She kept her voice low out of respect to the other people in the tea room, but her words lost none of their force thereby. "Are you going to sit there and let this nobody tell you what to do? If you've got a spark of manliness, why don't you put him in his place? He mocks you to your face! His very look is an insult to me! Are you going to stand for that? Why don't you invite him to kick you while he's at it?"

Jack thought: "Good Lord! Will he still want to marry her after getting such a taste of her quality as that?"

Bobo still hung his head. Jack could not but feel a certain pity for him. After all it was he, Jack, who had got him into this mess.

"If you won't tell him I will!" said Miriam. She turned her blazing eyes on Jack. "Go! And the next time wait until you are asked, before you thrust yourself on your betters! You are only an upper servant. You have presumed on his good nature until now you think you are the master. I warn you you'll find a different kind of person in me! I can keep you in your place!"

Jack received this with a smile. He was thinking: "You are not Mrs. Norman yet, my lady!"

She read the thought as clearly as if it had been spoken. "I'm not afraid of you! You can't stop me in anything I mean to do! I despise you!"

"Well, there's virtue in frankness," murmured Jack. "But let's not rattle the family skeleton in public."

It was true, people were beginning to look curiously towards their table.

"After all, it's a simple matter," Jack went on, "and it's entirely up to Bobo. Bobo, are you coming with me, or are you going to stay here?"

"I'll stay," muttered Bobo sullenly.

Miriam smiled triumphantly.

Jack appeared to give in good-humoredly. "Suits me," he said.

They rose from the table. Out in the corridor while Jack and Bobo were obtaining their hats and coats, there was a brief moment during which they were out of hearing of Miriam.

"Bobo," said Jack firmly, "if you don't come home with me, I swear I'll tell her the truth and leave you to your fate!"

Bobo was like a poor little grain of wheat between two hard mill-stones. He shivered. "How can I get away from her?" he whined. Obviously he was more afraid of Miriam than of Jack.

"Leave that to me," said Jack.

Miriam was watching them suspiciously. They rejoined her. At the elevator she said offhand to Bobo:

"You may come up. I have a sitting-room."

Miriam entered the elevator in advance, of course. Jack took a firm grip of Bobo's arm.

"Well, good-by," said Jack pleasantly. He squeezed Bobo's arm suggestively.

"G-good-by," stammered Bobo. "I have to go with Jack."

Whereupon Jack turned him about smartly, and marched him out towards the main entrance. Miriam gasped. She could not very well run after them, and grab Bobo's other arm. Indeed, while she stared speechless, the elevator door was closed, and she was whirled aloft. If looks could kill Jack had fallen dead in his tracks!

26

Jack and Bobo returned to the Madagascar without exchanging a word. When they were alone in their rooms, Jack looked at him and said:

"What the deuce am I going to do with you?"

"Best to let me alone," said Bobo sullenly.

"Didn't I convince you to-day that she was a crook?"

"I don't care."

"That was a nice little sample of her temper that she gave us at the table. Do you want to let yourself in for a lifetime of that?"

"I can't help myself."

Jack threw up his hands. There was a silence. Bobo was gloomily drawing an imaginary pattern on the arm of his chair.

"You swore to me you would never see her again," Jack presently resumed. "Yet an hour ago you were on your way downtown to get a license, weren't you?"

Bobo's hang-dog silence was equal to a confession.

"How did you expect to keep it out of the papers?"

"Bribed the clerk."

"Do you know what the penalty is for marrying a woman under another man's name?"

"I don't care."

"What cock and bull story did she tell you to-day to change you again?"

"She told me the truth."

Jack laughed.

"She admitted she'd been working for the old man. But when she found out what his game really was she chucked him. Now she's actually in danger of her life from him."

"Not too much danger, I guess," said Jack. "You still intend to marry her?" he asked.

"I've got to. It's my fate."

"Lord preserve us!" cried Jack in a kind of helpless exasperation. "I really don't see what there is to do, then, but kick you out!"

"You won't do that," said Bobo sullenly. "You bluffed me just now down at the Bienvenu, but I've been thinking it over. I know you won't do it now."

"Why won't I?"

"You can't afford to. It would spoil all your plans."

This was true, but Jack had not given Bobo credit for the shrewdness to perceive it. He tried a new course.

"Do you still believe that Miriam is marrying you for love alone?"

"I don't care!" said Bobo recklessly. "I'm willing to take her on any terms. What chance has a man like me of winning a woman like her ordinarily? It's gone too far now. I've got to have her. She's in my blood!"

Jack looked at him with a kind of respect. "Well, anyhow you're in earnest. I will give you credit for that. But seriously, what are you going to do afterwards? You don't suppose I'm going to lend you my name and my money for the rest of your life?"

Bobo shook his head. "I know the show-down's got to come some day, perhaps soon. But I'll make a sneak before that comes. At least I'll be happy for awhile."

"On my money?"

"Oh, what's a few thousands to you? Anyhow you got me into this."

There was truth in this, and Jack felt certain compunctions. But he was amused at the naïve villainy Bobo proposed.

"I don't grudge you the money," he said smiling. "In a way I sympathize with you, since I see you're really hard hit. But I can't be a party to any such scheme. In the first place as your friend I've got to save you from yourself. You'll get over this, hard as it seems. Secondly, even though she is a crook, she's entitled to be protected from a game like this. Why it wouldn't be a marriage at all!"

"You'd best let me be," said Bobo sullenly. "You can't lock me up, and I warn you I'll do it the first chance I get."

"Don't dare me to prevent you," said Jack softly. "I might find a way."

No more was said about the matter, but Jack continued to think about it. "Bobo put the idea into my head himself," he considered. "Lock him up! Why not? He's no better than a madman for the time being."

They patched up a temporary truce. Bobo agreed not to try to see Miriam that night, provided Jack would let him make a date with her over the telephone. He called her up in Jack's hearing.

"I'll be there to-morrow at eleven. No, I have not changed. Have him there at eleven."

Jack made no further objections. Had Bobo been wiser, his friend's apparent complaisance would have aroused his suspicions.

The two young men dined together, and spent the evening at the theater in perfect amity. Before going to sleep that night Jack perfected his plans.

"Having plenty of money certainly simplifies things," he said to himself.

Jack was always up at least an hour before Bobo. His first act in the morning was to telephone Mrs. Lizzie Regan, his landlady in humbler days, and still his faithful friend.

"Mrs. Regan," said he, "I need your help. Can you give up to-day to me?"

"Sure, Mr. Nor-Robinson, my dear! Anything to oblige."

"Well, come over to the Madagascar, and have breakfast with me."

"What, me! Eat in the Madagascar! I'll have to dress."

"Heavens, no! I'm in a hurry! We'll eat in our suite."

"And me a respectable widow woman! Laws, what would the neighbors say!"

"But you'll come?"

"Will a cat lap cream, my dear!"

While he waited for her, Jack collected every scrap of wearing apparel in Bobo's room, and the closet adjoining, and carrying it all to another clothes closet, locked it up and pocketed the key. Bobo slept the sleep of the hearty eater throughout. Jack then cut the wires of the telephone in his room, and removed the instrument. Finally he locked the three doors leading out of Bobo's rooms, and carried away the keys.

Bobo still slept on while Jack and Mrs. Regan discussed an excellent breakfast in the Dutch room. The honest lady was greatly impressed by her surroundings.

"Sure, it's a proud day for me to be eating in such style along with one of my own boys that I once passed the beans to. Sure if I'd foreseen this day, I would have given you two eggs to your breakfast, though I will say I never tried to stint the normal appetite of a man!"

"My appetite must have been abnormal, I guess."

"Go along! I lost money on you regular!"

"Maybe you won't be so glad you came to-day, when you learn what I want you to do."

"Anything short of murder, my dear. What is it?"

Jack told her the story of Miriam and Bobo—with reservations.

"Sure, if it was me, I'd let her marry him. Maybe it would teach the hizzy a lesson. But I suppose you're right. If more hot-blooded young people were locked up at such times, marriage wouldn't be such a joke in the vaudeville houses."

"I've got to be out a good part of the day on business," Jack went on, "so I've got to have somebody to look after him. I asked you to come firstly, because you know the truth about us, and secondly because I thought if he tried to assault you he'd find his match."

"Sure, I'll soothe him like his own mother.—I brought my umbrella. It's a good strong one."

Before going out Jack went into Bobo's room. The plump youth, yawning and stretching, was just beginning to think about getting up.

"Listen, Bobo," said Jack crisply. "You've got to stay in bed to-day. I've hidden all your clothes. I've engaged a nurse to look after you—and she'll see that you get your meals. You'd best take it quietly, for I'm giving it out that you've been on a tear, and if you make a racket people will think it's the D.T.'s."

"But—what—why——?" stammered Bobo.

Jack slipped out before he had fully recovered his power of speech. He delivered the key of his room to Mrs. Regan.

On his way out Jack sought Baldwin the clerk. "Mr. Norman is sick," he said. "To tell the truth, he's been hitting too swift a pace lately. The doctor has ordered absolute quiet, and I want you to see that he is not disturbed under any pretext whatever, while I'm out. I've left him in charge of a nurse."

Baldwin, the discreet, raised no awkward questions about the suddenness of Bobo's attack, nor where the doctor had come from, but assured Jack that his orders would be obeyed.

"You remember the lovely lady we saw yesterday?" Jack went on.

"Rather!"

"Supposing she comes here and shows a disposition to make a scene, introduce her to Connolly the house detective, see? Tip Connolly off to ask her if she didn't once go under the name of Beatrice Blackstone and do typewriting work for Silas Gyde here. That ought to calm her."

At the newsstand Jack bought a copy of a yachting magazine and from the advertising pages picked out the address of a leading firm of yacht brokers.

A few minutes later he was seated opposite the head of that firm, a trig little man with apple cheeks and shiny pink pate—he need not be named. Every yachtsman knows him.

"I represent a well-known millionaire," said Jack, "before I give you his name, or open my business with you, I must ask you to pledge yourself to regard it as confidential."

The broker agreed without reservations.

"Well," said Jack, "my name is Robinson, and my employer is Mr. John Farrow Norman."

As always, this announcement produced a well-nigh magical effect.

"Mr. Norman is sick," Jack went on, "the fact is he's been going the pace, rather, since he came into his money, and now he's got to pull up with a round turn."

The broker expressed a discreet sympathy.

"He has instructed me to charter a steam yacht for a Southern cruise, a roomy, comfortable boat. The main consideration is to get something that's all ready to go."

"It is fortunate that you came to me, Mr. Robinson," said the little broker solemnly. "As it happens I have the very thing you want. I refer to the Columbian, Colonel Oliver Stackpoole's yacht. Perhaps you know her?"

Jack shook his head.

"One of the finest yachts afloat, sir! Three hundred feet long, and a veritable floating palace! Only yesterday Colonel Stackpoole and a party of friends returned on her from a hunting trip to Jekyl Island. I have just received the Colonel's note authorizing me to charter her for the Florida season. She has a full complement of men, a complete inventory of stores, she is coaling this minute, and actually has steam up!"

"That sounds promising," said Jack. "How about terms?"

He agreed without batting an eye to the figure named, and the little broker was sorry he had not asked double.

"Let's go and look at her," said Jack. "If everything is O.K. you shall have a check this afternoon, and we'll sail to-night."

The yacht-broker wished that Heaven might send him such clients oftener.

The Columbian was lying at a coal dock in Hoboken. It was a matter of half an hour to reach her in the automobile. Jack fell in love with her at sight, and registered a silent vow, that some day when his work was done he would own her outright—or one like her.

Though really a great ocean-going vessel, her clipper bows, low hull, raking masts and great funnel conveyed an impression of extreme lightness and grace. She was painted black with a green streak at the water line, and her funnel was yellow.

Going aboard, Jack was astonished at the great spread of her decks; almost room enough to drive his car around her; and still more at the size and number of her cabins. Outside, the designer's effort had been to make the Columbian as shipshape as possible, but below decks he had aimed to make her passengers forget they were at sea.

On the main deck there was a long suite of lofty rooms; grand saloon, music room, library, smoke room. Overhead forward was the dining-saloon, and a sun parlor aft. All these rooms had open fireplaces, windows, and other comforts not generally associated with the sea. The furnishings were beautiful without being too ostentatious. The sleeping cabins were marvels of spaciousness and luxury.

Jack did not hesitate a moment about taking her. His one regret was that he could not go on the first projected cruise. The fact that the mere signing of his name put him in possession of this wonderful vessel gave him a fuller realization of the power of his wealth than he had yet experienced.

He learned that the Columbian would finish coaling during the afternoon. He arranged to have her continue to lie where she was until nine o'clock that night. Thus he could get his party aboard in this out-of-the-way spot after darkness had fallen. The Columbian was then to drop down-stream to an anchorage in the Bay, and proceed to sea next morning. Her Captain was instructed to see to the necessary clearance papers.

Jack repeated his story of Mr. Norman's illness to the captain. The suggestion was that the millionaire's mind was slightly affected, and they might be prepared for vagaries. The itinerary of the cruise was to include Charleston, Jacksonville, Nassau and Havana.

All arrangements having been completed, Jack returned to the Madagascar. Nothing untoward had occurred in his absence. Miriam had come as he expected, no doubt with every intention of making a scene; but his ruse to confront her with Connolly had worked effectually. She had departed quicker than she came.

Upstairs Mrs. Regan reported all well. Finding his "nurse" proof against the most tearful and passionate appeals, Bobo had resigned himself to his lot. Indeed, who shall say but that he was not secretly relieved thus to have the responsibility of making a decision taken from him.

Jack told Mrs. Regan what he had done. An assiduous reader of the newspapers, it appeared that she knew all about the magnificence of the Columbian.

"How would you like to take a cruise in her?" Jack asked.

"Me! Oh law! What a life of adventure!"

"You shall have a stateroom de luxe, with a brass bedstead, and a dressing-table furnished with gold!"

"What me! Lizzie Regan! Oh law!"

"Can you get away to-night?"

"I'd chuck a dozen boarding-houses for such a chance! Sure! As it happens the house is full, and I've got a cook who is not quite feeble-minded. My cousin will run in and keep an eye on things."

"That's settled then. Run along and get ready, and I'll watch Bobo till you get back."

Bobo listened to the plan of the proposed cruise in sullen apathy. Jack could not tell what he meditated doing. In order to be on the safe side, Jack called on Hugh Brome, his lawyer, to assist him with the evening's arrangements. It promised to be a great lark—for everybody except Bobo.

At nine o'clock that night an invalid completely swathed in blankets was tenderly carried out of the private side door of the Madagascar by two friends, and placed in a waiting limousine. A comfortable-looking nurse hovered over him solicitously. Any passerby might have been surprised to hear convulsive giggles from the three attendants—but perhaps he would have put it down to nervousness. Obviously the patient was very sick. But if the wrappings had fallen away from his head, the passerby would certainly have been astonished to see that he was gagged!

An hour later Jack and Hugh Brome stood on the coal dock watching the superb vessel back out into the river.

"Well, he's out of harm's way for awhile," said Jack. "He has no clothes aboard but dressing-gowns and slippers!"

27

Nowadays it is difficult for the great to conceal their movements. In spite of the precautions he had taken, the story of the chartering of the Columbian, and the young millionaire's sudden departure on a Southern cruise was in the next morning's papers. Jack silently cursed the yacht-broker.

He had no more than read the story, he was still lingering over his breakfast, when the telephone in the Dutch room rang, and the voice on the wire said:

"Miss Culbreth is asking for you."

"What!" cried Jack. "You mean she's downstairs!"

"Yes, sir."

"You're sure it's me she wants?"

"Yes, sir, Mr. Robinson," she said.

Jack hesitated before answering. To tell the truth his courage sunk slowly into his boots. He would sooner have faced five strong men than the infuriated Miriam. But as soon as he realized he was afraid his obstinacy came into play. He said to himself: "I'm not going to let her bluff me." Aloud he said curtly: "Show her up."

Although she must have set out from home in a rage, Miriam had not on that account neglected her appearance. She wore a little red hat with a cunning flare to the brim, and was otherwise all in black. Her fine eyes were dark with anger.

"By the Lord she's beautiful!" thought Jack. "It's all very well for Kate to talk, but there's a dangerous delight in fighting a woman like this!"

She lost no time coming to the point. "Is this story in the papers about Bobo true?" she demanded, declining to sit.

"More or less," said Jack.

"What do you mean by that? Has he gone away?"

"Just a little trip for his health."

"I don't believe you!"

"Then why ask?"

"You've had him kidnapped!"

"Ahead of you, eh?"

"Spare me your impudence, please!"

Jack bowed low.

"I'll expose you in the newspapers!" she threatened

"Go ahead! You may be sure I know exactly what I'm doing."

His coolness made her pause. She stared at him stormily for a moment "Maybe it's not true!" she said. "Maybe you gave out the story yourself to put me off."

Jack smiled.

"I'll see!" she cried. She darted into the adjoining room, Bobo's bedroom.

Jack let her go. There was nothing in any of the rooms that it mattered if she saw. He heard her opening and slamming the doors, and sat down to his interrupted breakfast. He could see that his cool airs maddened her, and there was a kind of breathless fun in it. He was less cool than he appeared. His heart hammered on his ribs.

She came running back angrier if possible than before. Jack affected to be very much absorbed in an item in the newspaper, which he relinquished with manifest reluctance to rise at her entrance.

"Well, did you find his corpse?"

Miriam's only reply was an inarticulate sound of rage. It was some moments before she could command herself sufficiently to speak.

"Just you wait! I'll get square! I'll beat you yet!"

She turned to go.

Jack suddenly bethought himself that Kate had advised him to make friends with Miriam. Just how far he was moved by a disinterested desire to further his case, and how far by Miriam's angry beauty, it would be well, perhaps, not to inquire.

"Don't go," he said.

She hesitated.

"I'll be bound you rushed away from home without any breakfast. Have some of mine."

Apparently the wisdom of resuming diplomatic relations must have occurred to her too, for she looked over her shoulder with a slow smile. Her eyes were still dangerous.

"Come and sit down," said Jack. "I'll make fresh coffee on the machine."

She swayed towards the table with inimitable nonchalance. Sitting, she gave Jack an inscrutable glance of the strange eyes, and languidly pulled off her gloves.

"By George! You're good to look at!" he said impulsively. It was surprised out of him.

"So are you," she murmured, with a languorous look through her lashes.

It was exactly the wrong thing for her to say; but Miriam persistently misread Jack. So long as she defied him and abused him he was profoundly stirred; he longed to seize and tame her. But when she displayed a disposition to woo him, he suddenly chilled and drew back. He did not let her see it of course. To create a diversion he jumped up to attend to the coffee machine.

"Silly for us to quarrel," she said, when he returned to the table.

"Yes, isn't it?" said Jack.

"Our real interests lie together. If we go on fighting each other, we'll spoil both our games."

It just suited Jack to play up to this idea of their respective positions. "You're right," he said.

"I offered before to join with you," she said.

"But you have me at a disadvantage," objected Jack. "If you marry Bobo you'll have a legal hold over him. Where will I and my job be then? You as good as told me you'd kick me out."

"That was when I was angry," she said blandly. "What a woman says when she's angry doesn't count."

"But you might get angry again," suggested Jack dryly.

She favored him with a slow intoxicating glance of the hazel eyes. "You fool!" she whispered.

"Eh?"

"Can't you see?"

"See what?"

"I couldn't really refuse you anything."

Jack was sorry now that he had asked her to stay. He saw the situation approaching from which no man can extricate himself with dignity and self-respect entire. But he was not sure that he wished to extricate himself. In his confusion he chose the worst possible course: that is, to laugh it off.

"That's good! Five minutes ago you hated me like a rattlesnake!"

"What's the difference?" she murmured. "I hate you because—because you treat me so. When I—Oh, why do you make me say it!"

She was breathing quickly and her eyes were large and bright. Jack wondered how much of this feeling was real, and how much art. But no man wants to disbelieve a woman when she intimates that she loves him.

She suddenly leaned across the table, and took his hand between both of hers. Her proud head was lowered in an affecting way. "Love—! Hate—!" she murmured brokenly. "What's the difference? You drive me wild with your cool airs, your indifference! Sometimes I could kill you! But—but I wouldn't want you any different either. I want you to master me!"

It was a heady draught. Jack's brain reeled.

She raised her head. Her eyes were embers in the wind. "Look at me! Am I not beautiful? You said I was beautiful!"

The voice of the tempter whispered to Jack: "Take her at her word. She deserves no consideration. Kate would have no right to blame you after what she said."

"Look in my eyes," she whispered. "What do you see there?"

The fire of those strange eyes lighted a train of gunpowder in the man. He forgot everything. "Oh—you beauty!" he murmured hoarsely.

They rose simultaneously and leaned towards each other over the little table.

"It's all so simple," she whispered. "Let me marry Bobo. You will still be his master and mine!"

Once more she fatally overreached herself. Every instinct of decency in the man was revolted by the picture she called up. He firmly unwound the white arms that had crept around his neck. He turned away and took a cigarette.

Miriam stared at him frightened and angry. "What's the matter with you?" she whispered.

"You'd better go," he said harshly.

She went to him swiftly. "You can't deny me! You love me! I saw it in your eyes. Why do you fight against me? Look at me. I could be everything to you!"

"Love!" said Jack with a grim laugh. "You're wasting your time now! You almost had me—but you let me peep too far under the lid. Never again! You're too good a hater. I want to keep a whole skin!"

She saw then that she had indeed failed. The humiliation was intolerable. She burst into angry tears.

"Oh, I hate you! I hate you!" she cried. "I will kill you if you don't keep out of my way!"

She ran out of the room.

28

The Columbian set sail early on a Friday morning. On Monday Jack received the following telegram:

Charleston, S.C.

Came in here last night for coal. At daylight sick man discovered to be missing. Must have climbed through port hole and dropped into waiting boat. Wireless operator gone too. Captain thinks he was bribed by wireless to liberate B. Have discovered that the two of them took the Southern train North late last night. Wire instructions.

Lizzie Regan.

Jack thought swiftly: "Late train North from Charleston last night. That would bring them here late to-night. Bobo would telegraph Miriam of course. She may go to meet him."

He jumped to the telephone, and calling up the Bienvenu, got Starr on the wire.

"This is Robinson—at the Hotel Madagascar, you know."

"Yes, Mr. Robinson?"

"Is Miss Culbreth still in your hotel?"

"Yes, sir, but she's leaving. She just telephoned down for her bill to be made out."

"Could you arrange to have her followed when she leaves?"

"Yet, sir, I have a smart boy here who can be depended on."

"Good! If she goes to the Pennsylvania station that's all right. I will be there. But if she goes elsewhere have a message telephoned to this hotel for me."

"Very good, sir. I will see to it."

Jack hastened into Kate's house and assumed the Pitman make-up. It had outlived its usefulness so far as the old man was concerned, but he had no reason to suppose that he had ever been pointed out to Miriam in that character. At any rate he had no other disguise handy. With a brief good-by to Kate he taxied to the Pennsylvania terminal. All travelers to the South use this station.

Miriam was already there, walking impatiently up and down the concourse. She was heavily veiled, but even so was a sufficiently notable figure. Jack was beginning to be acquainted with her wardrobe, extensive as that was. To-day she was wearing a green hat and black furs that he had seen before.

When the gates were opened for the 10:08 Washington express she went through. Jack bought a ticket for Washington and followed. Supposing that she would ride in a parlor car, he got in a coach, as he did not care to subject Mr. Pitman's disguise to a five hours' scrutiny on the train.

After the train had started, he showed his police credentials to the conductor, and describing Miriam, asked to be informed to what point her ticket had been taken. Word was brought him later that it was to Baltimore. He asked to be told if she got off before that.

But Miriam apparently had no suspicion that she was being followed. In Baltimore she went openly to the Hotel Warwick and registered under own name—or rather, under the name that Jack knew her by. The so-called Mr. Pitman was close behind her.

After putting her bag in her room she reappeared unveiled, and started to walk downtown at a leisurely pace, Mr. Pitman still in unsuspected attendance. He heard her ask a policeman the way to the City Hall. In that building she asked at the Information desk where marriage licenses were to be procured.

Jack smiled to himself. "License number two!" he thought. He did not risk discovery by following her through the unfrequented corridors, but waited within watch of the main entrance for her to reappear.

For the next hour Miriam killed time in Charles Street, the fashionable shopping thoroughfare. She visited several hat shops, and presumably "tried on." Mr. Pitman could not very well follow her into such places. Later a tea room held her for another half hour. At some time during these peregrinations she must have become aware that she was being followed.

Leaving the tea room she hailed a taxi, and ordered the chauffeur to take her to the Hotel Minnert. Jack followed in another cab. When he saw that the hotel was only around the corner, he began to suspect a ruse. She entered by the Ladies' door, and he was less than half a minute behind her. She was not visible inside. From the doorman he learned that she had walked upstairs. He followed.

On the next floor there were no public rooms but only endless corridors with bedrooms opening off. There was not a soul in sight and he hesitated which way to turn. Finally a chambermaid appeared around a corner, and a piece of silver procured him information.

"Yes, sir, she just went down the corridor on the right. She asked me if there was another stairs, and I told her yes, at the end of that corridor."

Jack hastened in the direction named. At the foot of the rear stairs he found a door giving on a quiet back street. The door-keeper supplied the next link of information.

"Yes, sir, there was a taxi waiting for her. She just drove away."

"Hm!" thought Jack ruefully, "that's a good one on me! Either she knows this place of old, or else she fixed it up on the way with the taxi-driver."

He was not greatly concerned by this mishap, for he knew the time the Southern train was due to arrive in Baltimore, and he expected to meet her again there. The time was six-thirty. He spent the interim in buying himself an overcoat of striking cut, and a tweed hat that would pull down low on his head. These articles changed his appearance not a little. On the way uptown he stopped in at the Warwick, but Miriam had not returned there.

When he got to the station Miriam was not to be seen among the crowd. The train was forty-five minutes late. Informing himself as to which gate the passengers would be discharged through, he took a seat commanding it, and affected to busy himself with a magazine.

As the time for the coming of the train drew near, and no Miriam showed up, a sharp anxiety attacked him. He wondered if he could have erred in his calculations. He knew she had not had time since he lost her, to telegraph down the line for Bobo to get off at Washington.

The train drew in, and the passengers began mounting the steps. Still no sign of Miriam. But suddenly Jack caught sight of Bobo among the passengers and his spirits rebounded.

"Is she going to let me carry him off?" he wondered.

The wireless operator accompanied Bobo, and Bobo was clad in one of his uniforms. As there was about thirty pounds difference in weight between the two—in Bobo's favor, the plump youth cut rather a comic figure, and was acutely conscious of the fact.

As they reached the top of the stairs, a lady clad in deep mourning with a thick black veil concealing her whole head and face stepped forward and laid her hand on Bobo's arm. At first Bobo shrank back from this sable apparition, but she pushed the veil aside sufficiently for him to see her face, and he grinned from ear to ear.

"You fool!" said Jack to himself. "Not to have seen through that!"

Miriam and the two young men went quickly down the way to the side entrance of the station. Jack was not far behind them. In that confusion of people there was little danger of their spotting him. Outside among the waiting automobiles was a big Macklin touring car, and Miriam led the two men towards it. Jack swore at himself again.

"She had the wit to hire a special car, while you have to trust to a taxi!"

He jumped in a taxi. "Follow that Macklin car that's just turning out," he said. "Ten dollars bonus, if you stick to it."

The touring car did not turn South towards the center of town, but headed North by the bridge over the railway tracks. At the first wide street, North avenue, Jack read on the street lamps, it turned East, then North again on another wide thoroughfare which finally brought them out into the country.

"Double fare outside the City limits," the chauffeur said laconically.

"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.