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The Frame Up.....................................................................................................................................................1

Richard Harding Davis............................................................................................................................1

When the voice over the telephone promised to name the man who killed Hermann Banf, District Attorney

Wharton was up town lunching at Delmonico's. This was contrary to his custom and a concession to

Hamilton Cutler, his distinguished brotherinlaw. That gentleman was interested in a State constabulary bill

and had asked State Senator Bissell to father it. He had suggested to the senator that, in the legal points

involved in the bill, his brotherinlaw would undoubtedly be charmed to advise him. So that morning, to

talk it over, Bissell had come from Albany and, as he was forced to return the same afternoon, had asked

That in public life there breathed a man with soul so dead who, were he offered a chance to serve Hamilton

Cutler, would not jump at the chance was outside the experience of the county chairman. And in so judging

his fellow men, with the exception of one man, the senator was right. The one man was Hamilton Cutler's

In the national affairs of his party Hamilton Cutler was one of the four leaders. In two cabinets he had held

office. At a foreign court as an ambassador his dinners, of which the diplomatic corps still spoke with

emotion, had upheld the dignity of ninety million Americans. He was rich. The history of his family was the

history of the State. When the Albany boats drew abreast of the old Cutler mansion on the cast bank of the

Hudson the passengers pointed at it with deference. Even when the search lights pointed at it, it was with

deference. And on Fifth Avenue, as the "Seeing New York" car passed his town house it slowed respectfully

to half speed. When, apparently for no other reason than that she was good and beautiful, he had married the

sister of a then unknown up State lawyer, every one felt Hamilton Cutler had made his first mistake. But, like

every thing else into which he entered, for him matrimony also was a success. The prettiest girl in Utica

showed herself worthy of her distinguished husband. She had given him children as beautiful as herself; as

what Washington calls " a cabinet lady " she had kept her name out of the newspapers; as Madame

L'Ambassatrice she had put archduchesses at their ease; and after ten years she was an adoring wife, a

devoted mother, and a proud woman. Her pride was in believing that for every joy she knew she was indebted

entirely to her husband. To owe everything to him, to feel that through him the blessings flowed, was her

In this ideal her brother did not share. Her delight in a sense of obligation left him quite cold. No one better

than himself knew that his rapidfire rise in public favor was due to his own exertions, to the fact that he had

worked very hard, had been independent, had kept his hands clean, and had worn no man's collar. Other

people believed he owed his advancement to his brotherinlaw. He knew they believed that, and it hurt him.

When, at the annual dinner of the Amen Corner, they burlesqued him as singing to "Ham" Cutler, "You made

me what I am today, I hope you're satisfied," he found that to laugh with the others was something of an

effort. His was a difficult position. He was a party man; he had always worked inside the organization. The

fact that whenever he ran for an elective office the reformers indorsed him and the best elements in the

opposition parties voted for him did not shake his loyalty to his own people. And to Hamilton Cutler, as one

of his party leaders, as one of the bosses of the "invisible government," he was willing to defer. But while he

could give allegiance to his party leaders, and from them was willing to receive the rewards of office, from a

rich brotherinlaw he was not at all willing to accept anything. Still less was he willing that of the credit he

deserved for years of hard work for the party, of selfdenial, and of efficient public service the rich

His pride was to be known as a selfmade man, as the servant only of the voters. And now that ambition,

now that he was district attorney of New York City, to have it said that the office was the gift of his

brotherinlaw was bitter. But he believed the injustice would soon end. In a month he was coming up for

reelection, and night and day was conducting a campaign that he hoped would result in a personal victory so

complete as to banish the shadow of his brotherinlaw. Were he reelected by the majority on which he

counted, he would have the party leaders on their knees. Hamilton Cutler would be forced to come to him. He

would be in line for promotion. He knew the leaders did not want to promote him, that they considered him

too inclined to kick over the traces; but were he now reelected, at the next election, either for mayor or

The reelection was not to be an easy victory. Outside his own party, to prevent his succeeding himself as

district attorney, Tammany Hall was using every weapon in her armory. The commissioner of police was a

Tammany man, and in the public prints Wharton had repeatedly declared that Banf, his star witness against

the police, had been killed by the police, and that they had prevented the discovery of his murderer. For this

the wigwam wanted his scalp, and to get it had raked his public and private life, had used threats and bribes,

and with women had tried to trap him into a scandal. But "Big Tim" Meehan, the lieutenant the Hall had

detailed to destroy Wharton, had reported back that for their purpose his record was useless, that bribes and

threats only flattered him, and that the traps set for him he had smilingly side stepped. This was the situation

a month before election day when, to oblige his brotherinlaw, Wharton was uptown at Delmonico's

Downtown at the office, Rumson, the assistant district attorney, was on his way to lunch when the

telephonegirl halted him. Her voice was lowered and betrayed almost human interest.

From the corner of her mouth she whispered: "This man has a note for Mr. Whartonsays if he don't get it

The young man and the girl looked at each other and smiled. Their experience had not tended to make them

credulous. Had he lived, Hermann Banf would have been, for Wharton, the star witness against a ring of

corrupt police officials. In consequence his murder was more than the taking off of a shady and disreputable

citizen. It was a blow struck at the high office of the district attorney, at the grand jury, and the law. But, so

far, whoever struck the blow had escaped punishment, and though for a month, ceaselessly, by night and day

"the office" and the police had sought him, he was still at large, still "unknown." There had been hundreds of

clews. They had been furnished by the detectives of the city and county and of the private agencies, by

amateurs, by news papers, by members of the underworld with a score to pay off or to gain favor. But no

clew had led anywhere. When, in hoarse whispers, the last one had been confided to him by his detectives,

"Stop bringing me clews!" he exclaimed. "I want the man. I can't electrocute a clew!"

So when, after all other efforts, over the telephone a strange voice offered to deliver the murderer, Rumson

"Assistant District Attorney Rumson speaking," he said. "What can I do for you?"'

Before the answer came, as though the speaker were choosing his words, there was a pause. It lasted so long

"Hello," he called. "Do you want to speak to me, or do you want to speak to me?"

"I've gotta letter for the district attorney," said the voice. "I'm to give it to nobody but him. It's about Banf. He

"If I tell you, "parried Rumson, "will you bring the letter at once?" The voice exclaimed indignantly:

"Bring nothing! I'll send it by district messenger. You're wasting time trying to reach me. It's the LETTER

you want. It tells" the voice broke with an oath and instantly began again: "I can't talk over a phone. I

tell you, it's life or death. If you lose out, it's your own fault. Where can I find Wharton?"

"At Delmonico's," answered Rumson. "He'll be there until two o'clock." "Delmonico's! That's Fortyfort

Street?" "Right," said Rumson. "Tell the messenger" He heard the receiver slam upon the hook. With

"They can laugh," he cried, "but I believe we've hooked something. I'm going after it." In the waitingroom

he found the detectives. "Hewitt, " he ordered, "take the subway and whip up to Delmonico's. Talk to the

taxistarter till a messengerboy brings a letter for the D. A. Let the boy deliver the note, and then trail him

till he reports to the man he got it from. Bring the man here. If it's a district messenger and he doesn't report,

but goes straight back to the office, find out who gave him the note; get his description. Then meet me at

Rumson called up that restaurant and had Wharton come to the phone. He asked his chief to wait until a letter

he believed to be of great importance was delivered to him. He explained, but, of necessity, somewhat

sketchily. "It sounds to me," commented his chief, "like a plot of yours to get a lunch up town."

After Rumson had joined Wharton and Bissell the note arrived. It was brought to the restaurant by a

messengerboy, who said that in answer to a call from a saloon on Sixth Avenue he had received it from a

young man in readytowear clothes and a green hat. When Hewitt, the detective, asked what the young man

looked like, the boy said he looked like a young man in readytowear clothes and a green hat. But when the

note was read the identity of the man who delivered it ceased to be of importance. The paper on which it was

written was without stamped address or monogram, and carried with it the mixed odors of the drugstore at

which it had been purchased. The handwriting was that of a woman, and what she had written was: "If the

district attorney will come at once, and alone, to Kessler's Cafe, on the Boston Post Road, near the city line,

he will be told who killed Hermann Banf. If he don't come in an hour, it will be too late. If he brings anybody

with him, he won't be told anything. Leave your car in the road and walk up the drive. Ida Earle."

Hewitt, who had sent away the messengerboy and had been called in to give expert advice, was enthusiastic.

"Mr. District Attorney," he cried, "that's no crank letter. This Earle woman is wise. You got to take her as a

serious proposition. She wouldn't make that play if she couldn't get away with it."

To the police, the detective assured them, Ida Earle had been known for years. When she was young she had

been under the protection of a man high in the ranks of Tammany, and, in consequence, with her different

ventures the Police had never interfered. She now was proprietress of the roadhouse in the note described as

Kessler's Cafe. It was a place for joy riders. There was a cabaret, a hall for public dancing, and rooms for

In so far as it welcomed only those who could spend money it was exclusive, but in all other respects its

reputation was of the worst. In situation it was lonely, and from other houses separated by a quarter of a mile

The Boston Post Road upon which it faced was the old post road, but lately, through this back yard and

dumpingground of the city, had been relaid. It was patrolled only and infrequently by bicycle policemen.

"But this," continued the detective eagerly, "is where we win out. The roadhouse is an old farmhouse built

over, with the barns changed into garages. They stand on the edge of a wood. It's about as big as a city block.

If we come in through the woods from the rear, the garages will hide us. Nobody in the house can see us, but

we won't be a hundred yards away. You've only to blow a police whistle and we'll be with you."

"It looks to me," objected Bissell, "like a plot to get you there alone and rap you on the head." "Not with that

"I know her," returned the detective. "I know she's no fool. It's her place, and she wouldn't let them pull off

The D. A. was rereading the note. "Might this be it?" he asked. "Suppose it's a trick to mix me up in a

scandal? You say the place is disreputable. Suppose they're planning to compromise me just before election.

"You've still got the note, If persisted Hewitt. "It proves why you went there. And the senator, too. He can

testify. And we won't be hundred yards away. And," he added grudgingly, "you have Nolan."

Nolan was the spoiled child of 'the office.' He was the district attorney's pet. Although still young, he had

scored as a detective and as a driver of racingcars. As Wharton's chauffeur he now doubled the parts.

"What Nolan testified wouldn't be any help," said Wharton. "They would say it was just a story he invented

"Then square yourself this way," urged Rumson. "Send a note now by hand to Ham Cutler and one to your

sister. Tell them you're going to Ida Earle'sand whytell them you're afraid it's a frameup, and for them

Wharton nodded in approval, and, while he wrote, Rumson and the detective planned how, without those

Kessler's Cafe lay in the Seventyninth Police Precinct. In taxicabs they arranged to start at once and

proceed down White Plains Avenue, which parallels the Boston Road, until they were on a line with

Kessler's, but from it hidden by the woods and the garages. A walk of a quarter of a mile across lots and

under cover of the trees would bring them to within a hundred yards of the house.

Wharton was to give them a start of half an hour. That he might know they were on watch, they agreed, after

they dismissed the taxicabs, to send one of them into the Boston Post Road past the roadhouse. When it

was directly in front of the cafe, the chauffeur would throw away into the road an empty cigarettecase.

From the cigarstand they selected a cigarette box of a startling yellow. At half a mile it was conspicuous.

"When you see this in the road," explained Rumson, "you'll know we're on the job. And after you're inside, if

"He can always tell them we're outside," said Rumson"and they are extremely likely to believe him. Do

Rumson and Hewitt set off in taxicabs and, a halfhour later, Wharton followed. As he sank back against

the cushions of the big touringcar he felt a pleasing thrill of excitement, and as he passed the traffic police,

and they saluted mechanically, he smiled. Had they guessed his errand their interest in his progress would

have been less perfunctory. In half an hour he might know that the police killed Banf; in half an hour he

himself might walk into a trap they had, in turn, staged for him. As the car ran swiftly through the clean

October air, and the wind and sun alternately chilled and warmed his blood, Wharton considered these

He could not believe the woman Earle would lend herself to any plot to do him bodily harm. She was a

responsible person. In her own world she was as important a figure as was the district attorney in his. Her

allies were the man "higher up " in Tammany and the police of the upper ranks of the uniformed force. And

of the higher office of the district attorney she possessed an intimate and respectful knowledge. It was not to

be considered that against the prosecuting attorney such a woman would wage war. So the thought that upon

his person any assault was meditated Wharton dismissed as unintelligent. That it was upon his reputation the

attack was planned seemed much more probable. But that contingency he had foreseen and so, he believed,

forestalled. There then remained only the possibility that the offer in the letter was genuine. It seemed quite

too good to be true. For, as he asked himself, on the very eve of an election, why should Tammany, or a

friend of Tammany, place in his possession the information that to the Tammany candidate would bring

inevitable defeat. He felt that the way they were playing into his hands was too open, too generous. If their

object was to lead him into a trap, of all baits they might use the promise to tell him who killed Banf was the

one certain to attract him. It made their invitation to walk into the parlor almost too obvious. But were the

offer not genuine, there was a condition attached to it that puzzled him. It was not the condition that

stipulated he should come alone. His experience had taught him many will confess, or betray, to the district

attorney who, to a deputy, will tell nothing. The condition that puzzled him was the one that insisted he

Why was haste so imperative? Why, if he delayed, would he be "too late"? Was the man he sought about to

escape from his jurisdiction, was he dying, and was it his wish to make a deathbed confession; or was he so

With these questions in his mind, the minutes quickly passed, and it was with a thrill of excitement Wharton

saw that Nolan had left the Zoological Gardens on the right and turned into the Boston Road. It had but lately

been completed and to Wharton was unfamiliar. On either side of the unscarred roadway still lay scattered the

uprooted trees and boulders that had blocked its progress, and abandoned by the contractors were empty

tarbarrels, cementsacks, toolsheds, and forges. Nor was the surrounding landscape less raw and unlovely.

Toward the Sound stretched vacant lots covered with ash heaps; to the left a few old and broken houses set

The district attorney felt a sudden twinge of loneliness. And when an automobile sign told him he was "10

miles from Columbus Circle," he felt that from the New York he knew he was much farther. Two miles up

"On the left, farther up, "the officer told him, and added: "You can't miss it ' Mr. Wharton; there's no other

"You know me," said the D.A. "Then you'll understand what I want you to do. I've agreed to go to that house

"But," added the district attorney, as the car started forward again, "If you hear shots, I don't care how fast

But Wharton motioned him back; and when again he turned to look the man still stood where they had parted.

Two minutes later an empty taxicab came swiftly toward him and, as it passed, the driver lifted his hand

"That's one of the men," said Nolan,"that started with Mr. Rumson and Hewitt from Delmonico's."

Wharton nodded; and, now assured that in their plan there had been no hitch, smiled with satisfaction. A

moment later, when ahead of them on the asphalt road Nolan pointed out a spot of yellow, he recognized the

The yellow cigarettebox lay directly in front of a long wooden building of two stories. It was linked to the

On verandas enclosed In glass Wharton saw whitecovered tables under red candleshade and, protruding

from one end of the house and hung with electric lights in paper lanterns, a pavilion for dancing. In the rear of

the house stood sheds and a thick tangle of trees on which the autumn leaves showed yellow painted fingers

and arrows pointing, and an electric sign, proclaimed to all who passed that this was Kessler's. In spite of its

reputation, the house wore the aspect of the commonplace. In evidence nothing flaunted, nothing threatened

From a dozen other inns along the Pelham Parkway and the Boston Post Road it was no way to be

As directed In the note, Wharton left the car in the road." For five minutes stay where yo are," he ordered

Nolan; "then go to the bar and get a drink. Don't talk to any one or they'll think you're trying to get

information. Work around to the back of the house. Stand where I can see you from the window. I may want

On foot Wharton walked up the curved driveway, and if from the house his approach was spied upon, there

was no evidence. In the second story the blinds were drawn and on the first floor the verandas were empty.

Nor, not even after he had mounted to the veranda and stepped inside the house, was there any sign that his

visit was expected. He stood in a hall, and in front of him rose a broad flight of stairs that he guessed led to

Swept and garnished after the revels of the night previous, and as though resting in preparation for those to

come, it an air of peaceful inactivity. At a table a maitre d'ho'tel was composing the menu for the evening,

against the walls three colored waiters lounged sleepily, and on a platform at a piano a pale youth with

drugged eyes was with one hand picking an accompaniment. As Wharton paused uncertainly the young man,

At sight of Wharton the head waiter reluctantly detached himself from his menu and rose. But before he

could greet the visitor, Wharton heard his name spoken and, looking up, saw a woman descending the stairs.

It was apparent that when young she had been beautiful, and, in spite of an expression in her eyes of hardness

and distrust, which seemed habitual, she was still handsome. She was without a hat and wearing a house dress

of decorous shades and in the extreme of fashion. Her black hair, built up in artificial waves, was heavy with

brilliantine; her hands, covered deep with rings, and of an unnatural white, showed the most fastidious care.

But her complexion was her own; and her skin, free from paint and powder, glowed with that healthy pink

that is supposed to be the perquisite only of the simple life and a conscience undisturbed.

"I am Mrs. Earle," said the woman. "I wrote you that note. Will you please come this way?"

That she did not suppose he might not come that way was obvious, for, as she spoke, she turned her back on

As well as his mind, his body was now acutely alive and vigilant. Both physically and mentally he moved on

tiptoe. For whatever surprise, for whatever ambush might lie in wait, he was prepared. At the top of the stairs

he found a wide hall along which on both sides were many doors. The one directly facing the stairs stood

open. At one side of this the woman halted and with a gesture of the jewelled fingers invited him to enter.

"My sittingroom," she said. As Wharton remained motionless she substituted: " My office."

Peering into the room, Wharton found it suited to both titles. He saw comfortable chairs, vases filled with

autumn leaves, in silver frames photographs, and between two open windows a businesslike rollertop desk

on which was a hand telephone. In plain sight through the windows he beheld the garage and behind it the

tops of trees. To summon Rumson, to keep in touch with Nolan, he need only step to one of these windows

and beckon. The strategic position of the room appealed, and with a bow of the head he passed in front of his

He now saw that from the office in which he stood doors led to rooms adjoining. These doors were shut, and

he determined swiftly that before the interview began he first must know what lay behind them. Mrs. Earle

It was the first time he had spoken. For an instant the woman hesitated, regarding him thoughtfully, and then

without resentment pulled the door open. She came toward him swiftly, and he was conscious of the rustle of

silk and the stirring of perfumes. At the open door she cast a frown of disapproval and then, with her face

"A man brought a girl here to lunch," she said; "they've been here before. The girl claims the man told her he

was going to marry her. Last night she found out he has a wife already, and she came here today meaning to

make trouble. She brought a gun. They were in the room at the far end of the hall. George, the water, heard

the two shots and ran down here to get me. No one else heard. These rooms are fixed to keep out noise, and

the piano was going. We broke in and found them on the floor. The man was shot through the shoulder, the

girl through the body. His story is that after she fired, in trying to get the gun from her, she shot herselfby

accident. That's right, I guess. But the girl says they came here to die togetherwhat the newspaper call a

'suicide pact' because they couldn't marry, and that he first shot her, intending to kill her and then himself.

That's silly. She framed it to get him. She missed him with the gun, so now she's trying to get him with this

murder charge. I know her. If she'd been sober she wouldn't have shot him; she'd have blackmailed him. She's

With an exclamation the district attorney broke in upon her. "And the man," he demanded eagerly; "was it

His disappointment was so keen that it threatened to exhibit itself in anger. Recognizing this, before he spoke

The woman exclaimed impatiently: "So you could beat the police to it," she whispered. "So you could HUSH

The surprised laugh of the man was quite real. It bore no resentment or pose. He was genuinely amused. Then

the dignity of his office, tricked and insulted, demanded to be heard. He stared at her coldly; his indignation

"You have done extremely ill," he told her. "You know perfectly well you had no right to bring me up here;

to drag me into a row in your roadhouse. 'Hush it up!"' he exclaimed hotly. This time his laugh was

contemptuous and threatening. "I'll show you how I'll hush it up!" He moved quickly to the open window.

He heard the key turn in the lock. It had Come. It was a frameup. There would be a scandal. And to save

himself from it they would force him to "hush up" this other one. But, as to the outcome, in no way was he

concerned. Through the window, standing directly below it, he had seen Nolan. In the sunlit yard the

chauffeur, his cap on the back of his head, his cigarette drooping from his lips, was tossing the remnants of a

sandwich to a circle of excited hens. He presented a picture of bored indolence, of innocent preoccupation. It

Assured of a witness for the defense, he greeted the woman with a smile. "Why can't I do it?" he taunted.

She ran close to him and laid her hands on his arm. Her eyes were fixed steadily on his. "Because," she

For what seemed a long time Wharton stood looking down into the eyes of the woman, and the eyes never

faltered. Later he recalled that in the sudden silence many noises disturbed the lazy hush of the

Indiansummer afternoon: the rush of a motorcar on the Boston Road, the tinkle of the piano and the voice

of the youth with the drugged eyes singing, "And you'll wear a simple gingham gown," from the yard below

His first thought was of his sister and of her children, and of what this bomb, hurled from the clouds, would

mean to her. He thought of Cutler, at the height of his power and usefulness, by this one disreputable act

dragged into the mire, of what disaster it might bring to the party, to himself.

If, as the woman invited, he helped to "hush it up," and Tammany learned the truth, it would make short work

of him. It would say, for the murderer of Banf he had one law and for the rich brotherinlaw, who had tried

to kill the girl he deceived, another. But before he gave voice to his thoughts he recognized them as springing

only from panic. They were of a part with the acts of men driven by sudden fear, and of which acts in their

The shock of the woman's words had unsettled his traditions. Not only was he condemning a man unheard,

but a man who, though he might dislike him, he had for years, for his private virtues, trusted and admired.

"Doctor Muir took him to his private hospital," she said. "I loaned them my car because it's a limousine. The

address is on that card. But," she added, "both your brother and Sammy that's Sam Muir, the

Apparently Wharton did not hear her. As though it were "Exhibit A," presented in evidence by the defense,

To restrain or dissuade him, the woman made no sudden move. In level tones she said:

"Your brotherinlaw asked especially that you wouldn't do that until you'd fixed it with the girl. Your face

is too well known. He's afraid some one might find out where he is and for a day or two no one must know

The suggestion seemed to strike Mrs. Earle as humorous. For the first time she laughed. "Sammy!" she

exclaimed. "He's a lobbygow of mine. He's worked for me for years. I could send him up the river if I liked.

He knows it." Her tone was convincing. "They both asked," she continued evenly, "you should keep off until

And, observing this, the eyes of the woman showed that, so far, toward the unfortunate incident the attitude

of the district attorney was to her most gratifying. Wharton ceased frowning. "How fixed?" he asked. Mrs.

"Cutler's idea is money," she said; "but, believe me, he's wrong. This girl is a vampire. She'll only come back

to you for more. She'll keep on threatening to tell the wife, to tell the papers. The way to fix her is to throw a

scare into her. And there's only one man can do that; there's only one man that can hush this thing upthat's

"Now," said the woman. "I'll bring her." Wharton could not suppress an involuntary "Here?" he exclaimed.

For the shade of a second Mrs. Earle exhibited the slightest evidence of embarrassment.

"My room's in a mess," she explained; "and she's not hurt so much as Sammy said. He told her she was in bad

Mrs. Earle opened one of the doors leading from the room. "I won't be a minute," she said. Quietly she closed

Upon her disappearance the manner of the district attorney underwent an abrupt change. He ran softly to the

door opposite the one through which Mrs. Earle had passed, and pulled it open. But, if beyond it he expected

to find an audience of eavesdroppers, he was disappointed. The room was empty, and bore no evidence of

recent occupation. . He closed the door, and, from the rollertop desk, snatching a piece of paper, scribbled

upon it hastily. Wrapping the paper around a coin, and holding it exposed to view, he showed himself at the

window. Below him, to an increasing circle of hens and pigeons, Nolan was still scattering crumbs. Without

withdrawing his gaze from them, the chauffeur nodded. Wharton opened his hand and the note fell into the

yard. Behind him he heard the murmur of voices, the sobs of a woman in pain, and the rattle of a doorknob.

As from the window he turned quickly, he saw that toward the spot where his note had fallen Nolan was

The girl who entered with Mrs. Earle, leaning on her and supported by her, was tall and fair. Around her

shoulders her blond hair hung in disorder, and around her waist, under the kimono Mrs. Earle had thrown

about her, were wrapped many layers of bandages. The girl moved unsteadily and sank into a chair.

"Rose," she said, "this is the district attorney." To him she added: "She calls herself Rose Gerard."

One hand the girl held close against her side, with the other she brushed back the hair from her forehead.

"Don't you worry," she sneered, " I'm strong enough. Strong enough to tell all I knowto you, and to the

papers, and to a juryuntil I get justice." She clinched her free hand and feebly shook it at him. " THAT'S

From behind the armchair in which the girl halfreclined Mrs. Earle caught the eye of the district attorney

"Wait!" he said. "You are not talking to me as anybody's brotherinlaw, but as the district attorney."

Again she began: "I first met Ham Cutler last May. He wanted to marry me then. He told me he was not a

As her story unfolded, Wharton did not again interrupt; and speaking quickly, in abrupt, broken phrases, the

girl brought her narrative to the moment when, as she claimed, Cutler had attempted to kill her. At this point

a knock at the locked door caused both the girl and her audience to start. Wharton looked at Mrs. Earle

inquiringly, but she shook her head, and with a look at him also of inquiry, and of suspicion as well, opened

Wharton's annoyance at the interruption was most apparent. "What the devil" he began.

He read the note rapidly, and with a frown of irritation raised his eyes to Mrs. Earle.

"He wants to go to New Rochelle for an inner tube," he said. "How long would it take him to get there and

The hard and distrustful expression upon the face of Mrs. Earle, which was habitual, was now most strongly

"Tell him," he directed the waiter, to stay where he is. Tell him I may want to go back to the office any

minute." He turned eagerly to the girl. "I'm sorry," he said. With impatience he crumpled the note into a ball

and glanced about him. At his feet was a wastepaper basket. Fixed upon him he saw, while pretending not to

see, the eyes of Mrs. Earle burning with suspicion. If he destroyed the note, he knew suspicion would become

certainty. Without an instant of hesitation, carelessly he tossed it intact into the waste paper basket. Toward

The girl had now reached the climax of her story, but the eyes of Mrs. Earle betrayed the fact that her

thoughts were elsewhere. With an intense and hungry longing, they were concentrated upon her own

The voice of the girl in anger and defiance recalled Mrs. Earle to the business of the moment.

"He tried to kill me," shouted Miss Rose. "And his shooting himself in the shoulder was a bluff. THAT'S my

story; that's the story I'm going to tell the judge "her voice soared shrilly "that's the story that's going to

"Like hell he will!" she said. "You can't pull that under my roof!" Wharton looked disturbed.

"Come across?" mimicked the girl. "Send me abroad and keep me there. And I'll swear it was an accident.

Twentyfive thousand, that's all I want. Cutler told me he was going to make you governor. He can't make

you governor if he's in Sing Sing, can he? Ain't it worth twentyfive thousand to you to be governor? Come

"May I use your telephone?" he asked. He did not wait for her consent, but from the desk lifted the hand

"Spring, three one hundred!" he said. He sat with his legs comfortably crossed, the stand of the instrument

If with apprehension both women started, if the girl thrust herself forward, and by the hand of Mrs. Earle was

"Police headquarters?" they heard him ask. "I want to speak to the commissioner. This is the district attorney"

In the pause that followed, as though to torment her, the pain, in her side apparently turned, for the girl

"Be still!" commanded the older woman. Breathless, across the top of the armchair, she was leaning

"Commissioner," said the district attorney, "this is Wharton speaking. A woman has made a charge of

attempted murder to me against my brotherinlaw, Hamilton Cutler. On account of our relationship, I want

you to make the arrest. If there were any slip, and he got away, it might be said I arranged it. You will find

him at the Winona apartments on the Southern Boulevard, in the private hospital of a Doctor Samuel Muir.

Arrest them both. The girl who makes the charge is at Kessler's Cafe, on the Boston Post Road, just inside the

"I'm, sorry," he said, "but I had to do it. You might have known I could not hush it up. I am the only man who

can't hush it up. The people of New York elected me to enforce the laws." Wharton's voice was raised to a

loud pitch. It seemed unnecessarily loud. It was almost as though he were addressing another and more

distant audience. "And," he continued, his voice still soaring, "even if my own family suffer, even if I suffer,

even if I lose political promotion, those laws I will enforce!" In the more conventional tone of everyday

But, as in silence that lady descended the stairs, the district attorney seemed to have forgotten what it was he

It was not until he had seen his chauffeur arouse himself from apparently deep slumber and crank the car that

"That girl," he said, "had better go back to bed. My men are all around this house and, until the police come,

He shook the jewelled fingers of Mrs. Earle warmly. "I thank you," he said; "I know you meant well. I know

But Mrs. Earle did not wait to observe this phenomenon. Rid of his presence, she leaped, rather than ran, up

As she entered, two men followed her. One was a young man who held in his hand an open notebook, the

"We heard everything he said " he cried. His voice rose in torment. "An' we can't use a word of it! He acted

just like we'd oughta knowed he'd act. He's HONEST! He's so damned honest he ain't human; he's a

Mrs. Earle did not heed him. On her knees she was tossing to the floor the contents of the wastepaper

"Shut up!" she shouted. "Listen! His chauffeur brought him this." In a voice that quivered with indignation,

" 'As directed by your note from the window, I went to the booth and called up Mrs. Cutler's house and got

herself on the phone. Your brotherinlaw lunched at home today with her and the children and they are

"Stop, look, and listen! Back of the bar I see two men in a room, but they did not see me. One is Tim

Meehan, the other is a stenographer. He is taking notes. Each of them has on the earmuffs of a dictagraph.

Looks like you'd better watch your step and not say nothing you don't want Tammany to print.'" The voice of

"Hima gilded saint?" she screamed; "you big stiff! He knew he was talking into a dictagraph all the time,