Initials Only.........................................................................................................................................................1

Anna Katharine Green.............................................................................................................................1

It was not my husband speaking, but some passerby. However, I looked up at George with a smile, and found

him looking down at me with much the same humour. We had often spoken of the odd phrases one hears in

the street, and how interesting it would be sometimes to hear a little more of the conversation.

"That's a case in point," he laughed, as he guided me through the crowd of theatregoers which invariably

block this part of Broadway at the hour of eight. "We shall never know whose eulogy we have just heard. 'A

"No," was my somewhat indifferent reply. It was a keen winter night and snow was packed upon the walks in

a way to throw into sharp relief the figures of such pedestrians as happened to be walking alone. "But it

seems to me that, so far as general appearance goes, the one in front answers your description most

"Yes, he's remarkably well built. I noticed him when he came out of the Clermont." This was a hotel we had

"But it's not only that. It's his height, his very striking features, his expression " I stopped suddenly, gripping

George's arm convulsively in a surprise he appeared to share. We had turned the corner immediately behind

"What's he doing?" I asked, in a low whisper. We were only a few feet behind. "Look! look! don't you call

My husband stared, then uttered a low, "Rather." The man ahead of us, presenting in every respect the

appearance of a gentleman, had suddenly stooped to the kerb and was washing his hands in the snow,

furtively, but with a vigour and purpose which could not fail to arouse the strangest conjectures in any chance

"Pilate!" escaped my lips, in a sort of nervous chuckle. But George shook his head at me.

"I don't like it," he muttered, with unusual gravity." Did you see his face?" Then as the man rose and hurried

But here we became aware of a quick rush and sudden clamour around the corner we had just left, and

turning quickly, saw that something had occurred on Broadway which was fast causing a tumult.

"What's the matter?" I cried. "What can have happened? Let's go see, George. Perhaps it has something to do

My husband, with a final glance down the street at the fast disappearing figure, yielded to my importunity,

"I'd like to stop that man first," said he. "But what excuse have I? He may be nothing but a crank, with some

crackbrained idea in his head. We'll soon know; for there's certainly something wrong there on Broadway."

"I know. If the excitement isn't there, what we've just seen is simply a coincidence." Then, as we retraced our

steps to the corner "Whatever we hear or see, don't say anything about this man. It's after eight, remember,

It was the last word he had time to speak before we found ourselves in the midst of a crowd of men and

women, jostling one another in curiosity or in the consternation following a quick alarm. All were looking

one way, and, as this was towards the entrance of the Clermont, it was evident enough to us that the alarm

had indeed had its origin in the very place we had anticipated. I felt my husband's arm press me closer to his

side as we worked our way towards the entrance, and presently caught a warning sound from his lips as the

oaths and confused cries everywhere surrounding us were broken here and there by articulate words and we

"Get out of this. There is no chance of our reaching that door, and I can't have you standing round any longer

"But but is it right?" I urged, in an importunate whisper. "Should we go home while he "

"I can't wait till tomorrow," I pleaded, wild to satisfy my curiosity in regard to an event in which I naturally

He drew me as near to the edge of the crowd as he could. There were new murmurs all about us.

"I'll tell you what I'll do," whispered George, who, for all his bluster was as curious as myself. "We will try

the rear door where there are fewer persons. Possibly we can make our way in there, and if we can, Slater will

Slater was the assistant manager of the Clermont, and one of George's oldest friends.

George did hurry, and in a few minutes we were before the rear entrance of the great hotel. There was a mob

gathered here also, but it was neither so large nor so rough as the one on Broadway. Yet I doubt if we should

have been able to work our way through it if Slater had not, at that very instant, shown himself in the

doorway, in company with an officer to whom he was giving some final instructions. George caught his eye

as soon as he was through with the man, and ventured on what I thought a rather uncalled for plea.

"Let us in, Slater," he begged." My wife feels a little faint; she has been knocked about so by the crowd."

The manager glanced at my face, and shouted to the people around us to make room. I felt myself lifted up,

and that is all I remember of this part of our adventure. For, affected more than I realised by the excitement of

the event, I no sooner saw the way cleared for our entrance than I made good my husband's words by fainting

When I came to, it was suddenly and with perfect recognition of my surroundings. The small reception room

to which I had been taken was one I had often visited, and its familiar features did not hold my attention for a

moment. What I did see and welcome was my husband's face bending close over me, and to him I spoke first.

My words must have sounded oddly to those about. "Have they told you anything about it?" I asked. "Did he

A quick pressure on my arm silenced me, and then I noticed that we were not alone. Two or three ladies stood

near, watching me, and one had evidently been using some restorative, for she held a small vinaigrette in her

hand. To this lady, George made haste to introduce me, and from her I presently learned the cause of the

It was of a somewhat different nature from what I expected, and during the recital, I could not prevent myself

Edith, the wellknown daughter of Moses Challoner, had fallen suddenly dead on the floor of the mezzanine.

She was not known to have been in poor health, still less in danger of a fatal attack, and the shock was

consequently great to her friends, several of whom were in the building. Indeed, it was likely to prove a shock

to the whole community, for she had great claims to general admiration, and her death must be regarded as a

I realised this myself, for I had heard much of the young lady's private virtues, as well as of her great beauty

"Virtually alone. Some persons sat on the other side of the room, reading at the big round table. They did not

even hear her fall. They say that the band was playing unusually loud in the musicians' gallery."

"Quite myself," I gratefully replied as I rose slowly from the sofa. Then, as my kind informer stepped aside, I

He seemed as anxious as myself to leave and together we moved towards the door, while the hum of excited

comment which the intrusion of a fainting woman had undoubtedly interrupted, recommenced behind us till

In the hall we encountered Mr. Slater, whom I have before mentioned. He was trying to maintain order while

himself in a state of great agitation. Seeing us, he could not refrain from whispering a few words into my

"The doctor has just gone up her doctor, I mean. He's simply dumbfounded. Says that she was the healthiest

woman in New York yesterday I think don't mention it, that he suspects something quite different from

"What do you mean?" asked George, following the assistant manager down the broad flight of steps leading

to the office. Then, as I pressed up close to Mr. Slater's other side, "She was by herself, wasn't she, in the half

"Have they carried her to her room?" I eagerly inquired, glancing fearfully up at the large semicircular

"Not yet. Mr. Hammond insists upon waiting for the coroner." (Mr. Hammond was the proprietor of the

hotel.) "She is lying on one of the big couches near which she fell. If you like, I can give you a glimpse of

I don't know why we consented. We were under a spell, I think. At all events, we accepted his offer and

followed him up a narrow staircase open to very few that night. At the top, he turned upon us with a warning

gesture which I hardly think we needed, and led us down a narrow hall flanked by openings corresponding to

those we had noted from below. At the furthest one he paused and, beckoning us to his side, pointed across

the lobby into the large writingroom which occupied the better part of the mezzanine floor.

We saw people standing in various attitudes of grief and dismay about a couch, one end of which only was

visible to us at the moment. The doctor had just joined them, and every head was turned towards him and

every body bent forward in anxious expectation. I remember the face of one grey haired old man. I shall

never forget it. He was probably her father. Later, I knew him to be so. Her face, even her form, was entirely

hidden from us, but as we watched (I have often thought with what heartless curiosity) a sudden movement

took place in the whole group and for one instant a startling picture presented itself to our gaze. Miss

Challoner was stretched out upon the couch. She was dressed as she came from dinner, in a gown of

ivorytinted satin, relieved at the breast by a large bouquet of scarlet poinsettias. I mention this adornment,

because it was what first met and drew our eyes and the eyes of every one about her, though the face, now

quite revealed, would seem to have the greater attraction. But the cause was evident and one not to be

resisted. The doctor was pointing at these poinsettias in horror and with awful meaning, and though we could

not hear his words, we knew almost instinctively, both from his attitude and the cries which burst from the

lips of those about him, that something more than broken petals and disordered laces had met his eyes; that

blood was there slowly oozing drops from the heart which for some reason had escaped all eyes till now.

Miss Challoner was dead, not from unsuspected disease, but from the violent attack of some murderous

weapon; As the realisation of this brought fresh panic and bowed the old father's head with emotions even

more bitter than those of grief, I turned a questioning look up at George's face.

Yet he made no effort to detain Mr. Slater, when that gentleman, under this renewed excitement, hastily left

us. He was not the man to rush into anything impulsively, and not even the presence of murder could change

"I want to feel sure of myself," he explained. "Can you bear the strain of waiting around a little longer,

"Yes, I can bear it; much better than I could bear going to Adela's in my present state of mind. Don't you

"Hush! Let us listen rather than talk. What are they saying over there? Can you hear?"

"No. And I cannot bear to look. Yet I don't want to go away. It's all so dreadful."

"It's devilish. Such a beautiful girl! Laura, I must leave you for a moment. Do you mind?"

I did mind; but he was gone before I could take back my word. Alone, I felt the tragedy much more than

when he was with me. Instead of watching, as I had hitherto done, every movement in the room opposite, I

drew back against the wall and hid my eyes, waiting feverishly for George's return.

He came, when he did come, in some haste and with certain marks of increased agitation.

"Laura," said he, "Slater says that we may possibly be wanted and proposes that we stay here all night. I have

telephoned Adela and have made it all right at home. Will you come to your room? This is no place for you.''

Nothing could have pleased me better; to be near and yet not the direct observer of proceedings in which we

took so secret an interest! I showed my gratitude by following George immediately. But I could not go

without casting another glance at the tragic scene I was leaving. A stir was perceptible there, and I was just in

time to see its cause. A tall, angular gentleman was approaching from the direction of the musicians' gallery,

and from the manner of all present, as well as from the whispered comment of my husband, I recognised in

"Are you going to tell him?" was my question to George as we made our way down to the lobby.

"That depends. First, I am going to see you settled in a room quite remote from this business."

Nevertheless, after the first few minutes of relief, I found it very lonesome upstairs. The pictures which

crowded upon me of the various groups of excited and wildly gesticulating men and women through which

we had passed on our way up, mingled themselves with the solemn horror of the scene in the writingroom,

with its fleeting vision of youth and beauty lying pulseless in sudden death. I could not escape the one

without feeling the immediate impress of the other, and if by chance they both yielded for an instant to that

earlier scene of a desolate Street, with its solitary lamp shining down on the crouched figure of a man

washing his shaking hands in a drift of freshly fallen snow, they immediately rushed back with a force and

I was still struggling with these fancies when the door opened, and George came in. There was news in his

"I've been listening and looking," said he, "and this is all I have learned. Miss Challoner died, not from a

stroke or from disease of any kind, but from a wound reaching the heart. No one saw the attack, or even the

approach or departure of the person inflicting this wound. If she was killed by a pistolshot, it was at a

distance, and almost over the heads of the persons sitting at the table we saw there. But the doctors shake

their heads at the word pistolshot, though they refuse to explain themselves or to express any opinion till the

wound has been probed. This they are going to do at once, and when that question is decided, I may feel it my

"Very good. That is all that will be required. We are strangers to the parties concerned, and only speak from a

sense of justice. It may be that our story will make no impression, and that we shall be dismissed with but

few thanks. But that is nothing to us. If the woman has been murdered, he is the murderer. With such a

"Oh, what an adventure for quiet people like us! George, I don't believe he shot her."

"So they say; but I have a theory but no matter about that now. I'm going down again to see how things

Be ready! I almost laughed, a hysterical laugh, of course, when I recalled the injunction. Be ready! This

lonely sitting by myself, with nothing to do but think was a fine preparation for a sudden appearance before

But that's enough about myself; I'm not the heroine of this story. In a half hour or an hour I never knew

which George reappeared only to tell me that no conclusions had as yet been reached; an element of great

mystery involved the whole affair, and the most astute detectives on the force had been sent for. Her father,

who had been her constant companion all winter, had not the least suggestion to offer in way of its solution.

So far as he knew and he believed himself to have been in perfect accord with his daughter she had injured

no one. She had just lived the even, happy and useful life of a young woman of means, who sees duties

beyond those of her own household and immediate surroundings. If, in the fulfillment of those duties, she had

encountered any obstacle to content, he did not know it; nor could he mention a friend of hers he would even

say lovers, since that was what he meant who to his knowledge could be accused of harbouring any such

passion of revenge as was manifested in this secret and diabolical attack. They were all gentlemen and

respected her as heartily as they appeared to admire her. To no living being, man or woman, could he point as

possessing any motive for such a deed. She had been the victim of some mistake, his lovely and ever kindly

disposed daughter, and while the loss was irreparable he would never make it unendurable by thinking

Such was the father's way of looking at the matter, and I own that it made our duty a trifle hard. But George's

mind, when once made up, was persistent to the point of obstinacy, and while he was yet talking he led me

"Mr. Slater knows we have something to say, and will manage the interview before us in the very best

manner," he confided to me now with an encouraging air. "We are to go to the blue reception room on the

I nodded, and nothing more was said till we entered the place mentioned. Here we came upon several

gentlemen, standing about, of a more or less professional appearance. This was not very agreeable to one of

my retiring disposition, but a look from George brought back my courage, and I found myself waiting rather

Mr. Slater was there according to his promise, and after introducing us, briefly stated that we had some

evidence to give regarding the terrible occurrence which had just taken place in the house.

George bowed, and the chief spokesman I am sure he was a policeofficer of some kind asked him to tell

George drew himself up George is not one of your tall men, but he makes a very good appearance at times.

Then he seemed suddenly to collapse. The sight of their expectation made him feel how flat and childish his

story would sound. I, who had shared his adventure, understood his embarrassment, but the others were

evidently at a loss to do so, for they glanced askance at each other as he hesitated, and only looked back when

"It's the peculiarity of the occurrence which affects my husband. The thing we saw may mean nothing."

Then my husband spoke up, and related our little experience. If it did not create a sensation, it was because

"Washed his hands a gentleman out there in the snow just after the alarm was raised here?" repeated

It was Mr. Slater who put this question; he had less control over himself, and considerable eagerness could be

"He was a very finelooking man; unusually tall and unusually striking both in his dress and appearance.

What I could see of his face was bare of beard, and very expressive. He walked with the swing of an athlete,

His clothes. Describe his clothes." There was an odd sound in Mr. Slater's voice.

"He wore a silk hat and there was fur on his overcoat. I think the fur was black."

"I do; or rather, I know a man who answers to this description. He comes here once in a while. I do not know

whether or not he was in the building tonight, but Clausen can tell you; no one escapes Clausen's eye."

"Brotherson. A very uncommon person in many respects; quite capable of such an eccentricity, but incapable,

I should say, of crime. He's a gifted talker and so well read that he can hold one's attention for hours. Of his

tastes, I can only say that they appear to be mainly scientific. But he is not averse to society, and is always

"This man is an exception to all rules. The one I'm speaking of, I mean. I don't say that he's the fellow seen

Meanwhile, George had advanced to speak to a man who had beckoned to him from the other side of the

room, and with whom in another moment I saw him step out. Thus deserted, I sank into a chair near one of

the windows. Never had I felt more uncomfortable. To attribute guilt to a totally unknown person a person

who is little more to you than a shadowy silhouette against a background of snow is easy enough and not very

disturbing to the conscience. But to hear that person named; given positive attributes; lifted from the

indefinite into a living, breathing actuality, with a man's hopes, purposes and responsibilities, is an entirely

different proposition. This Brotherson might be the most innocent person alive; and, if so, what had we done?

Nothing to congratulate ourselves upon, certainly. And George was not present to comfort and encourage me.

Where was he? The man who had carried him off was the youngest in the group. What had he wanted of

George? Those who remained showed no interest in the matter. They had enough to say among themselves.

But I was interested naturally so, and, in my uneasiness, glanced restlessly from the window, the shade of

which was up. The outlook was a very peaceful one. This room faced a side street, and, as my eyes fell upon

the whitened pavements, I received an answer to one, and that the most anxious, of my queries. This was the

street into which we had turned, in the wake of the handsome stranger they were trying at this very moment

to identify with Brotherson. George had evidently been asked to point out the exact spot where the man had

stopped, for I could see from my vantage point two figures bending near the kerb, and even pawing at the

snow which lay there. It gave me a slight turn when one of them I do not think it was George began to

rub his hands together in much the way the unknown gentleman had done, and, in my excitement, I probably

uttered some sort of an ejaculation, for I was suddenly conscious of a silence in the room, and when I turned

I attempted to smile, but instead, shuddered painfully, as I raised my hand and pointed down at the street.

"They are imitating the man," I cried; "my husband and and the person he went out with. It looked dreadful

One of the gentlemen immediately said some kind words to me, and another smiled in a very encouraging

way. But their attention was soon diverted, and so was mine by the entrance of a man in semiuniform, who

I knew his face. He was one of the doorkeepers; the oldest employee about the hotel, and the one best liked. I

"Mr. Brotherson! I don't remember, really I don't," was the unexpected reply. "It's not often I forget. But so

"Oh, now I recall him! Yes, Mr. Brotherson went out of my door not many minutes before the cry upstairs. I

forgot because I had stepped back from the door to hand a lady the muff she had dropped, and it was at that

minute he went out. I just got a glimpse of his back as he passed into the street."

"I don't know another like it, when he wears that big coat of his. But Jim can tell you, sir. He was in the caf�

Meanwhile, Mr. Slater had exchanged some words with the two officials, and now approached me with an

expression of extreme consideration. They were about to excuse me from further participation in this

informal inquiry. This I saw before he spoke. Of course they were right. But I should greatly have preferred

However, I met him for an instant in the hall before I took the elevator, and later I heard in a roundabout

He was an habitue of the hotel, to the extent of dining once or twice a week in the caf�, and smoking,

afterwards, in the public lobby. When he was in the mood for talk, he would draw an everenlarging group

about him, but at other times he would be seen sitting quite alone and morosely indifferent to all who

approached him. There was no mystery about his business. He was an inventor, with one or two valuable

patents already on the market. But this was not his only interest. He was an all round sort of man, moody but

brilliant in many ways a character which at once attracted and repelled, odd in that he seemed to set little

store by his good looks, yet was most careful to dress himself in a way to show them off to advantage. If he

had means beyond the ordinary no one knew it, nor could any man say that he had not. On all personal

matters he was very closemouthed, though he would talk about other men's riches in a way to show that he

This was all which could be learned about him offhand, and at so late an hour. I was greatly interested, of

course, and had plenty to think of till I saw George again and learned the result of the latest investigations.

Miss Challoner had been shot, not stabbed. No other deduction was possible from such facts as were now

known, though the physicians had not yet handed in their report, or even intimated what that report would be.

No assailant could have approached or left her, without attracting the notice of some one, if not all of the

persons seated at a table in the same room. She could only have been reached by a bullet sent from a point

near the head of a small winding staircase connecting the mezzanine floor with a coatroom adjacent to the

front door. This has already been insisted on, as you will remember, and if you will glance at the diagram

It follows then that the only possible means of approach to this room lies through the archway H., or from the

elevator door. But the elevator made no stop at the mezzanine on or near the time of the attack upon Miss

Challoner; nor did any one leave the table or pass by it in either direction till after the alarm given by her fall.

But a bullet calls for no approach. A man at X. might raise and fire his pistol without attracting any attention

to himself. The music, which all acknowledge was at its full climax at this moment, would drown the noise of

the explosion, and the staircase, out of view of all but the victim, afford the same means of immediate escape,

which it must have given of secret and unseen approach. The coatroom into which it descended

communicated with the lobby very near the main entrance, and if Mr. Brotherson were the man, his sudden

To be sure, this gentleman had not been noticed in the coatroom by the man then in charge, but if the latter

had been engaged at that instant, as he often was, in hanging up or taking down a coat from the rack, a person

might easily pass by him and disappear into the lobby without attracting his attention. So many people passed

that way from the diningroom beyond, and so many of these were tall, finelooking and welldressed.

It began to look bad for this man, if indeed he were the one we had seen under the streetlamp; and, as

George and I reviewed the situation, we felt our position to be serious enough for us severally to set down our

impressions of this man before we lost our first vivid idea. I do not know what George wrote, for he sealed

his words up as soon as he had finished writing, but this is what I put on paper while my memory was still

He had the look of a man of powerful intellect and determined will, who shudders while he triumphs; who

outwardly washes his hands of a deed over which he inwardly gloats. This was when he first rose from the

snow. Afterwards he had a moment of fear; plain, human, everyday fear. But this was evanescent. Before he

had turned to go, he showed the selfpossession of one who feels himself so secure, or is so wellsatisfied

"Poor fellow," I commented aloud, as I folded up these words; "he reckoned without you, George. By

"Poor fellow?" he repeated. "Better say 'Poor Miss Challoner!' They tell me she was one of those perfect

women who reconcile even the pessimist to humanity and the age we live in. Why any one should want to

kill her is a mystery; but why this man should There! no one professes to explain it. They simply go by the

And with this sentence ringing in my mind, I lay down and endeavoured to sleep. But it was not till very late

that rest came. The noise of passing feet, though muffled beyond their wont, roused me in spite of myself.

These footsteps might be those of some late arrival, or they might be those of some wary detective intent on

I recalled the glimpse I had had of the writingroom in the early evening, and imagined it as it was with Miss

Challoner's body removed and the incongruous flitting of strange and busy figures across its fatal floors,

measuring distances and peering into corners, while hundreds slept above and about them in undisturbed

Then I thought of him, the suspected and possibly guilty one. In visions over which I had little if any control,

I saw him in all the restlessness of a slowly dying down excitement the surroundings strange and unknown

to me, the figure not seeking for quiet; facing the past; facing the future; knowing, perhaps, for the first

time in his life what it was for crime and remorse to murder sleep. I could not think of him as lying still

slumbering like the rest of mankind, in the hope and expectation of a busy morrow. Crime perpetrated looms

so large in the soul, and this man had a soul as big as his body; of that I was assured. That its instincts were

cruel and inherently evil, did not lessen its capacity for suffering. And he was suffering now; I could not

doubt it, remembering the lovely face and fragrant memory of the noble woman he had, under some unknown

At last I slept, but it was only to rouse again with the same quick realisation of my surroundings, which I had

experienced on my recovery from my fainting fit of hours before. Someone had stopped at our door before

hurrying by down the hall. Who was that someone? I rose on my elbow, and endeavoured to peer through the

dark. Of course, I could see nothing. But when I woke a second time, there was enough light in the room,

early as it undoubtedly was, for me to detect a letter lying on the carpet just inside the door.

Instantly I was on my feet. Catching the letter up, I carried it to the window. Our two names were on it Mr.

I glanced over at George. He was sleeping peacefully. It was too early to wake him, but I could not lay that

letter down unread; was not my name on it? Tearing it open, I devoured its contents, the exclamation I

"I must request, at the instance of Coroner Heath and such of the police as listened to your adventure, that

you make no further mention of what you saw in the street under our windows last night. The doctors find no

When we took our seats at the breakfasttable, it was with the feeling of being no longer looked upon as

connected in any way with this case. Yet our interest in it was, if anything, increased, and when I saw George

casting furtive glances at a certain table behind me, I leaned over and asked him the reason, being sure that

the people whose faces I saw reflected in the mirror directly before us had something to do with the great

matter then engrossing us. His answer conveyed the somewhat exciting information that the four persons

seated in my rear were the same four who had been reading at the round table in the mezzanine at the time of

Instantly they absorbed all my attention, though I dared not give them a direct look, and continued to observe

"Yes, and a very respectable one. Transients, of course, but very well known in Denver. The lady is not the

mother of the boys, but their aunt. The boys belong to the gentleman, who is a widower."

"The boys look wideawake enough if the father does not. As for the aunt, she is sweetness itself. Do they

still insist that Miss Challoner was the only person in the room with them at this time?"

"They did last night. I don't know how they will meet this statement of the doctor's."

"Have you ever thought that she might have been a suicide? That she stabbed herself?

"Positive. Such a fact could not have been kept quiet. If a weapon had been picked up there would be no

"I know it sounds foolish, but the alternative is so improbable. A family like that cannot be leagued together

in a conspiracy to hide the truth concerning a matter so serious. To be sure, they may all be shortsighted, or

so little given to observation that they didn't see what passed before their eyes. The boys look wideawake

I stopped short so suddenly that George looked startled. My attention had been caught by something new I

saw in the mirror upon which my attention was fixed. A man was looking in from the corridor behind, at the

four persons we were just discussing. He was watching them intently, and I thought I knew his face.

"What kind of a looking person was the man who took you outside last night?" I inquired of George, with my

"A fellow to make you laugh. A perfect character, Laura; hideously homely but agreeable enough. I took

"Very likely. He's deep in this affair. Just an everyday detective, but ambitious, I suppose, and quite alive to

"Yes, he's mercurial in all his movements. Laura, we must get out of this. There happens to be something else

But we began to doubt if others agreed with him, when on passing out we were stopped in the lobby by this

He smiled which hardly seemed a propos. Why does George sometimes smile when I am in my most serious

As we stepped out of the hotel, George gave my arm a quiet pinch which served to direct my attention to an

elderly gentleman who, was just alighting from a taxicab at the kerb. He moved heavily and with some

appearance of pain, but from the crowd collected on the sidewalk many of whom nudged each other as he

passed, he was evidently a person of some importance, and as he disappeared within the hotel entrance, I

He appeared to know, for he told me at once that he was Detective Gryce; a man who had grown old in

"He gave up work some time ago, I have been told," my husband went on; "but evidently a great case still has

its allurement for him. The trail here must be a very blind one for them to call him in. I wish we had not left

"I doubt if you would have been given the opportunity. I noticed that we were slightly de trop towards the

"I wouldn't have minded that; not on my own account, that is. It might not have been pleasant for you.

That night I bided his coming with an impatience I could not control. He was late, of course, but when he did

appear, I almost forgot our usual greeting in my hurry to ask him if he had seen the evening papers.

"No," he grumbled, as he hung up his overcoat. "Been pushed about all day. No time for anything."

However, a little later we had a comfortable chat. Mr. Gryce had made a discovery, and the papers were full

of it. It was one which gave me a small triumph over George. The suggestion he had laughed at was not so

entirely foolish as he had been pleased to consider it. But let me tell the story of that day, without any further

The opinion had become quite general with those best acquainted with the details of this affair, that the

mystery was one of those abnormal ones for which no solution would ever be found, when the aged detective

showed himself in the building and was taken to the room, where an Inspector of Police awaited him. Their

greeting was cordial, and the lines on the latter's face relaxed a little as he met the still bright eye of the man

"This is very good of you," he began, glancing down at the aged detective's bundled up legs, and gently

pushing a chair towards him. "I know that it was a great deal to ask, but we're at our wits' end, and so I

telephoned. It's the most inexplicable There! you have heard that phrase before. But clews there are

absolutely none. That is, we have not been able to find any. Perhaps you can. At least, that is what we hope.

The elderly man thus addressed, glanced down at his legs, now propped up on a stool which someone had

brought him, and smiled, with the pathos of the old who sees the interests of a lifetime slipping gradually

"I am not what I was. I can no longer get down on my hands and knees to pick up threads from the nap of a

"You shall have Sweetwater here to do the active work for you. What we want of you is the directing mind

the infallible instinct. It's a case in a thousand, Gryce. We've never had anything just like it. You've never had

The old man's eyes shot fire and unconsciously one foot slipped to the floor. Then he bethought himself and

"What are the points? What's the difficulty?" he asked. "A woman has been shot "

"No, not shot, stabbed. We thought she had been shot, for that was intelligible and involved no

impossibilities. But Drs. Heath and Webster, under the eye of the Challoners' own physician, have made an

examination of the wound an official one, thorough and quite final so far as they are concerned, and they

declare that no bullet is to be found in the body. As the wound extends no further than the heart, this settles

"Yes. There can be no question as to the truth of his report. You know the victim? Her name, I mean, and the

"A fine girl unspoiled by riches and seeming independence. Happy, too, to all appearance, or we should be

"Undoubtedly, and by a long and very narrow blade, larger than a needle but not so large as the ordinary

"Stabbed while by herself, or what you may call by herself? She had no companion near her?"

"None, if we can believe the four members of the Parrish family who were seated at the other end of the

"Would a whole family lie and needlessly? They never knew the woman father, maiden aunt and two

boys, cleareyed, jolly young chaps whom even the horror of this tragedy, perpetrated as it were under their

"Yet they swear up and down that nobody crossed the room towards Miss Challoner."

"She fell just a few feet from the desk where she had been writing. No word, no cry, just a collapse and

sudden fall. In olden days they would have said, struck by a bolt from heaven. But it was a bolt which drew

blood; not much blood, I hear, but sufficient to end life almost instantly. She never looked up or spoke again.

"It's a tough one, and I'm not ready to venture an opinion yet. I should like to see the desk you speak of, and

A young fellow who had been hovering in the background at once stepped forward. He was the plainfaced

Mr. Gryce's whole face brightened. This Sweetwater, as they called him, was, I have since understood, one of

"Have you had a chance at this thing?" he asked. "Been over the ground studied the affair carefully?"

"Very well, then, you're in a position to pioneer me. You've seen it all and won't be in a hurry."

"Well, well, that's honest at all events." Then, as he slowly rose with the other's careful assistance, "There's

no crime without its clew. The thing is to recognise that clew when seen. But I'm in no position, to make

Nevertheless, he looked ten years younger than when he came in, or so thought those who knew him.

The mezzanine was guarded from all visitors save such as had official sanction. Consequently, the two

remained quite uninterrupted while they moved about the place in quiet consultation. Others had preceded

them; had examined the plain little desk and found nothing; had paced off the distances; had looked with

longing and inquiring eyes at the elevator cage and the open archway leading to the little staircase and the

musicians' gallery. But this was nothing to the old detective. The locale was what he wanted, and he got it.

Whether he got anything else it would be impossible to say from his manner as he finally sank into a chair by

one of the openings, and looked down on the lobby below. It was full of people coming and going on all sorts

of business, and presently he drew back, and, leaning on Sweetwater's arm, asked him a few questions.

"One or two of the musicians from the end of the hall. They had just finished their programme and were

"Mark Sowerby and Claus Hennerberg. Honest Germans men who have played here for years."

"Some people from the lobby. They heard the disturbance and rushed up pellmell. But not one of these

"Yes; Miss Clarke, the middleaged lady with the Parrishes. She had run towards Miss Challoner as soon as

she heard her fall, and was sitting there with the dead girl's head in her lap when the musicians showed

"No. Neither she nor any one else at that moment suspected murder or even a violent death. All thought it a

"They say not. No one noticed any. Not till the doctor came her doctor who was happily in his office in this

"How long after was this? Is there any one who has ventured to make an estimate of the number of minutes

which elapsed from the time she fell, to the moment when the doctor first raised the cry of murder?"

"Yes. Mr. Slater, the assistant manager, who was in the lobby at the time, says that ten minutes at least must

"Ten minutes and no blood! The weapon must still have been there. Some weapon with a short and

inconspicuous handle. I think they said there were flowers over and around the place where it struck?"

"Yes, great big scarlet ones. Nobody noticed nobody looked. A panic like that seems to paralyse people."

"Ten minutes! I must see every one who approached her during those ten minutes. Every one, Sweetwater,

"No doubt. All the more reason why I must see her. Sweetwater, someone drew that weapon out. Effects still,

have their causes, notwithstanding the new cult. The question is who? We must leave no stone unturned to

"Then they will bear being turned over again. I want to be witness of the operation."

"I think I know the place. You shall have the use of this elevator. It has not been running since last night or it

would be full of curious people all the time, hustling to get a glimpse of this place. But they'll put a man on

"Very good; manage it as you will. I'll wait here till you're ready. Explain yourself to the lady. Tell her I'm an

old and rheumatic invalid who has been used to asking his own questions. I'll not trouble her much. But there

Sweetwater did not presume to ask what point, but he hoped to be fully enlightened when the time came.

And he was. Mr. Gryce had undertaken to educate him for this work, and never missed the opportunity of

giving him a lesson. The three met in a private sittingroom on an upper floor, the detectives entering first

Sweetwater stole a glance at Mr. Gryce. He was not looking her way, of course; he never looked directly at

anybody; but he formed his impressions for all that, and Sweetwater was anxious to make sure of these

impressions. There was no doubting them in this instance. Miss Clarke was not a woman to rouse an

unfavourable opinion in any man's mind. Of slight, almost frail build, she had that peculiar animation which

goes with a speaking eye and a widely sympathetic nature. Without any substantial claims to beauty, her

Mr. Gryce was engaged at the moment in shifting his cane from the right hand to the left, but his manner was

"Pardon me," he apologised, with one of his oldfashioned bows, "I'm sorry to trouble you after all the

distress you must have been under this morning. But there is something I wish especially to ask you in regard

to the dreadful occurrence in which you played so kind a part. You were the first to reach the prostrate

"Yes. The boys jumped up and ran towards her, but they were frightened by her looks and left it for me to put

"For some little time. That is, it seemed long, though I believe it was not more than a minute before two men

came running from the musicians' gallery. One thinks so fast at such a time and feels so much."

"What made the difference? Why should you believe Miss Challoner dead simply because she lay still and

"I cannot tell you. Possibly, death tells its own story. I only know how I felt."

"Perhaps there was another reason? Perhaps, that, consciously or unconsciously, you laid your palm upon her

"Did I?" she queried, musingly. Then with a sudden access of feeling, "I may have done so, indeed, I believe

"No; a very natural one, I should say. Cannot you tell me positively whether you did this or not?"

"Yes, I did. I had forgotten it, but I remember now." And the glance she cast him while not meeting his eye

showed that she understood the importance of the admission. "I know," she said, "what you are going to ask

me now. Did I feel anything there but the flowers and the tulle? No, Mr. Gryce, I did not. There was no

"You are a truthful woman," said he. "And," he added more slowly, "composed enough in character I should

"I think so, Mr. Gryce. I was in a state of excitement, of course; but the woman was a stranger to me, and my

"Sweetwater, we can let my suggestion go in regard to those ten minutes I spoke of. The time is narrowed

"The only one," echoed the lady, catching perhaps the slight rising sound of query in his voice.

"I will trouble you no further." So said the old detective, thoughtfully. "Sweetwater, help me out of this." His

eye was dull and his manner betrayed exhaustion. But vigour returned to him before he had well reached the

door, and he showed some of his old spirit as he thanked Miss Clarke and turned to take the elevator.

"But one possibility remains," he confided to Sweetwater, as they stood waiting at the elevator door. "Miss

Challoner died from a stab. The next minute she was in this lady's arms. No weapon protruded from the

wound, nor was any found on or near her in the mezzanine. What follows? She struck the blow herself, and

the strength of purpose which led her to do this, gave her the additional force to pull the weapon out and fling

it from her. It did not fall upon the floor around her; therefore, it flew through one of those openings into the

"None. Every man, woman and boy connected with the hotel has been questioned; many of them routed out

of their beds for the purpose, but not one of them picked up anything from the floor of the lobby, or knows of

"And after them (pardon me, Mr. Gryce) the general public which rushed in rather promiscuously last

"I know it; it's a task, but it must be carried through. Put up bulletins, publish your wants in the papers; do

Some hours later, Sweetwater reentered the room, and, approaching Mr. Gryce with a smile, blurted out:

"The bulletin is a great go. I think of course, I cannot be sure that it's going to do the business. I've watched

every one who stopped to read it. Many showed interest and many, emotion; she seems to have had a troop of

friends. But embarrassment! only one showed that. I thought you would like to know."

"No, a woman; a lady, sir; one of the transients. I found out in a jiffy all they could tell me about her."

"I don't think so. I had noticed her when she first came into the lobby. She was talking to her daughter who

was with her, and looked natural and happy. But no sooner had she seen and read that bulletin, than the blood

shot up into her face and her manner became furtive and hasty. There was no mistaking the difference, sir.

Almost before I could point her out, she had seized her daughter by the arm and hurried her towards the

elevator. I wanted to follow her, but you may prefer to make your own inquiries. Her room is on the seventh

"Yes; this is the first time she has stopped at this hotel. She came yesterday. Took a room indefinitely. Seems

"Call the desk. Say that I'm to be told if Mrs. Watkins of Nashville rings up during the next ten minutes. We'll

give her that long to take some action. If she fails to make any move, I'll make my own approaches."

The old man struggled to his feet. "No. 712, do you say? Seven stories," he sighed. But as he turned with a

hobble, he stopped. "There are difficulties in the way of this interview," he remarked. "A blush is not much to

go upon. I'm afraid we shall have to resort to the shadow business and that is your work, not mine.

But here the door opened and a boy brought in a line which had been left at the desk. It related to the very

"I see that information is desired as to whether any person was seen to stoop to the lobby floor last night at or

shortly after the critical moment of Miss Challoner's fall in the half story above. I can give such information.

I was in the lobby at the time, and in the height of the confusion following this alarming incident, I remember

seeing a lady, one of the new arrivals (there were several coming in at the time) stoop quickly down and

pick up something from the floor. I thought nothing of it at the time, and so paid little attention to her

appearance. I can only recall the suddenness with which she stooped and the colour of the cloak she wore. It

was red, and the whole garment was voluminous. If you wish further particulars, though in truth, I have no

"Humph! This should simplify our task," was Mr. Gryce's comment, as he handed the note over to

Sweetwater. "You can easily find out if the lady, now on the point of departure, can be identified with the one

"The cloak doesn't help," he declared. "No one remembers the cloak. But the time of Mrs. Watkins' arrival

"The clerk says that it had better be upstairs. She is a very sensitive woman. There might be a scene, if she

"Very well." But the look which the old detective threw at his bandaged legs was not without its pathos.

And so it happened that just as Mrs. Watkins was watching the wheeling out of her trunks, there appeared in

the doorway before her, an elderly gentleman, whose expression, always benevolent, save at moments when

benevolence would be quite out of keeping with the situation, had for some reason, so marked an effect upon

her, that she coloured under his eye, and, indeed, showed such embarrassment, that all doubt of the propriety

of his intrusion vanished from the old man's mind, and with the ease of one only too well accustomed to such

"You are," she faltered, with another rapid change of colour. "I I am just leaving. I hope you will excuse me. I

"I wish I could," he smiled, hobbling in and confronting her quietly in her own room. "But circumstances

make it quite imperative that I should have a few words with you on a topic which need not be disagreeable

to you, and probably will not be. My name is Gryce. This will probably convey nothing to you, but I am not

unknown to the management below, and my years must certainly give you confidence in the propriety of my

errand. A beautiful and charming young woman died here last night. May I ask if you knew her?"

"I?" She was trembling violently now, but whether with indignation or some other more subtle emotion, it

would be difficult to say. "No, I'm from the South. I never saw the young lady. Why do you ask? I do not

Certainly her emotion must be that of simple indignation. Mr. Gryce made one of his low bows, and propping

"I had rather not force my rights. The matter is so very ordinary. I did not suppose you knew Miss Challoner,

but one must begin somehow, and as you came in at the very moment when the alarm was raised in the lobby,

I thought perhaps you could tell me something which would aid me in my effort to elicit the real facts of the

"Madam," the interruption was made in his kindliest tones, but in a way which nevertheless suggested

authority. "Something was picked up from the floor at that moment. If the dozen you mention were witnesses

to this act we do not know it. But we do know that it did not pass unobserved by you. Am I not correct?

Didn't you see a certain person I will mention no names stoop and pick up something from the lobby

"No." The word came out with startling violence. "I was conscious of nothing but the confusion." She was

facing him with determination and her eyes were fixed boldly on his face. But her lips quivered, and her

"Then I have made a big mistake," apologised the evercourteous detective. "Will you pardon me? It would

have settled a very serious question if it could be found that the object thus picked up was the weapon which

He was not looking at her; he was looking at her hand which rested on the table before which he himself

stood. Did the fingers tighten a little and dig into the palm they concealed? He thought so, and was very slow

in turning limpingly about towards the door. Meanwhile, would she speak? No. The silence was so marked,

he felt it an excuse for stealing another glance in her direction. She was not looking his way but at a door in

the partition wall on her right; and the look was one very akin to anxious fear. The next moment he

understood it. The door burst open, and a young girl bounded into the room, with the merry cry:

"All ready, mother. I'm glad we are going to the Clarendon. I hate hotels where people die almost before your

What the mother said at this outburst is immaterial. What the detective did is not. Keeping on his way, he

reached the door, but not to open it wider; rather to close it softly but with unmistakable decision. The cloak

"Who is this?" demanded the girl, her indignant glances flashing from one to the other.

"I don't know," faltered the mother in very evident distress. "He says he has a right to ask us questions and he

"Not about me," laughed the girl, with a toss of her head Mr. Gryce would have corrected in one of his

grandchildren. "He can have nothing to say about me." And she began to move about the room in an aimless,

Mr. Gryce stared hard at the few remaining belongings of the two women, lying in a heap on the table, and

"The person who stooped wore a long red cloak. Probably you preceded your daughter, Mrs. Watkins."

The lady thus brought to the point made a quick gesture towards the girl who suddenly stood still, and, with a

rising colour in her cheeks, answered, with some show of resolution on her own part:

"You say your name is Gryce and that you have a right to address me thus pointedly on a subject which you

evidently regard as serious. That is not exact enough for me. Who are you, sir? What is your business?"

"I think you have guessed it. I am a detective from Headquarters. What I want of you I have already stated.

Perhaps this young lady can tell me what you cannot. I shall be pleased if this is so."

"Caroline" Then the mother broke down. "Show the gentleman what you picked up from the lobby floor

The girl laughed again, loudly and with evident bravado, before she threw the cloak back and showed what

she had evidently been holding in her hand from the first, a sharppointed, goldhandled papercutter.

"You probably meant none. You couldn't have known the part it had just played in this tragic drama," said the

old detective looking carefully at the cutter which he had taken in his hand, but not so carefully that he failed

to note that the look of distress was not lifted from the mother's face either by her daughter's words or

"No. Why should I wash it? It was clean enough. I was just going down to give it in at the desk. I wasn't

going to carry it away." And she turned aside to the window and began to hum, as though done with the

The old detective rubbed his chin, glanced again at the papercutter, then at the girl in the window, and lastly

"It is very important," he observed to the latter, "that your daughter should be correct in her statement as to

the condition of this article when she picked it up. Are you sure she did not wash it?"

"I don't think she did. But I'm sure she will tell you the truth about that. Caroline, this is a police matter. Any

mistake about it may involve us in a world of trouble and keep you from getting back home in time for your

comingout party. Did you did you wash this cutter when you got upstairs, or or " she added, with a

propitiatory glance at Mr. Gryce wipe it off at any time between then and now? Don't answer hastily. Be

sure. No one can blame you for that act. Any girl, as thoughtless as you, might do that."

"Mother, how can I tell what I did?" flashed out the girl, wheeling round on her heel till she faced them both.

"I don't remember doing a thing to it. I just brought it up. A thing found like that belongs to the finder. You

needn't hold it out towards me like that. I don't want it now; I'm sick of it. Such a lot of talk about a paltry

"It isn't the value." Mr. Gryce could be very patient. "It's the fact that we believe it to have been answerable

for Miss Challoner's death that is, if there was any blood on it when you picked it up."

"Blood!" The girl was facing them again, astonishment struggling with disgust on her plain but mobile

features. "Blood! is that what you mean. No wonder I hate it. Take it away," she cried.

"Oh, mother, I'll never pick up anything again which doesn't belong to me! Blood!" she repeated in horror,

Mr. Gryce thought he understood the situation. Here was a little kleptomaniac whose weakness the mother

was struggling to hide. Light was pouring in. He felt his body's weight less on that miserable foot of his.

"Don't ask me. And I put the thing under my pillow! I thought it was so so pretty."

"Mrs. Watkins," Mr. Gryce from that moment ignored the daughter, "did you see it there?"

"Yes; but I didn't know where it came from. I had not seen my daughter stoop. I didn't know where she got it

"Never mind that. The question agitating me is whether any stain was left under that pillow. We want to be

sure of the connection between this possible weapon and the death by stabbing which we all deplore if

"I didn't see any stain, but you can look for yourself. The bed has been made up, but there was no change of

linen. We expected to remain here; I see no good to be gained by hiding any of the facts now."

"Come, then. Caroline, sit down and stop crying. Mr. Gryce believes that your only fault was in not taking

"Yes, that's all," acquiesced the detective after a short study of the shaking figure and distorted features of the

girl. "You had no idea, I'm sure, where this weapon came from, or for what it had been used. That's evident."

Her shudder, as she seated herself, was very convincing. She was too young to simulate so successfully

"I'm glad of that," she responded, half fretfully, half gratefully, as Mr. Gryce followed her mother into the

adjoining room. "I've had a bad enough time of it without being blamed for what I didn't know and didn't do."

Mr. Gryce laid little stress upon these words, but much upon the lack of curiosity she showed in the minute

and careful examination he now made of her room. There was no stain on the pillowcover and none on the

bureauspread where she might very naturally have laid the cutter down on first coming into her room. The

blade was so polished that it must have been rubbed off somewhere, either purposely or by accident. Where

then, since not here? He asked to see her gloves the ones she had worn the previous night.

"They are the same she is wearing now," the anxious mother assured him. "Wait, and I will get them for you."

They returned to where the girl still sat, wrapped in her cloak, sobbing still, but not so violently.

"Caroline, you may take off your things," said the mother, drawing the pins from her own hat. "We shall not

The child shot her mother one disappointed look, then proceeded to follow suit. When her hat was off, she

began to take off her gloves. As soon as they were on the table, the mother pushed them over to Mr. Gryce.

"Will will he tell?" she whispered behind its ample folds into her mother's ear.

The answer came quickly, but not in the mother's tones. Mr. Gryce's ears had lost none of their ancient

"I do not see that I should gain much by doing so. The one discovery which would link this find of yours

indissolubly with Miss Challoner's death, I have failed to make. If I am equally unsuccessful below if I can

establish no closer connection there than here between this cutter and the weapon which killed Miss

Challoner, I shall have no cause to mention the matter. It will be too extraneous to the case. Do you

"No, no. Somewhere near those big chairs; I didn't have to step out of my way; I really didn't."

Mr. Gryce's answering smile was a study. It seemed to convey a twofold message, one for the mother and

one for the child, and both were comforting. But he went away, disappointed. The clew which promised so

Mr. Gryce's fears were only too well founded. Though Mr. McElroy was kind enough to point out the exact

spot where he saw Miss Watkins stoop, no trace of blood was found upon the rug which had lain there, nor

had anything of the kind been washed up by the very careful man who scrubbed the lobby floor in the early

morning. This was disappointing, as its presence would have settled the whole question. When, these efforts

all exhausted, the two detectives faced each other again in the small room given up to their use, Mr. Gryce

showed his discouragement. To be certain of a fact you cannot prove has not the same alluring quality for the

old that it has for the young. Sweetwater watched him in some concern, then with the persistence which was

"The girl wore a red cloak. If I mistake not, the lining was also red. A spot on it might not show to the casual

The young fellow ducked and left the room. When he returned, it was with a downcast air.

"We only need to find out now that this cutter was not even Miss Challoner's property," remarked Mr. Gryce,

at last, with a gesture towards the object named, lying openly on the table before him.

But here they were themselves disturbed. A knock at the door was followed by the immediate entrance of the

very person just mentioned. Mr. Challoner had come in search of the inspector, and showed some surprise to

But Mr. Gryce, who discerned tidings in the bereaved father's face, was all alacrity in an instant. Greeting his

visitor with a smile which few could see without trusting the man, he explained the inspector's absence and

Mr. Challoner had heard of him. Nevertheless, he did not seem inclined to speak.

Mr. Gryce motioned Sweetwater from the room. With a woeful look the young detective withdrew, his last

Mr. Gryce, not unmindful himself of this object, took it up, then laid it down again, with an air of seeming

"What is that?" he cried, advancing a step and bestowing more than an ordinary glance at the object thus

brought casually, as it were, to his notice. "I surely recognise this cutter. Does it belong here or "

Mr. Gryce, observing the other's, emotion, motioned him to a chair. As his visitor sank into it, he remarked,

"It is unknown property, Mr. Challoner. But we have some reason to think it belonged to your daughter. Are

"I have seen it, or one like it, often in her hand." Here his eyes suddenly dilated and the hand stretched forth

to grasp it quickly drew back. "Where where was it found?" he hoarsely demanded. "0 God! am I to be

"It was picked up last night from the lobby floor. There is seemingly nothing to connect it with her death.

The pause was eloquent. Mr. Challoner gave the detective an agonised look and turned white to the lips. Then

gradually, as the silence continued, his head fell forward, and he muttered almost unintelligibly:

"I honestly believe her the victim of some heartless stranger. I do now; but but I cannot mislead the police.

At any cost I must retract a statement I made under false impressions and with no desire to deceive. I said that

I knew all of the gentlemen who admired her and aspired to her hand, and that they were all reputable men

and above committing a crime of this or any other kind. But it seems that I did not know her secret heart as

thoroughly as I had supposed. Among her effects I have just come upon a batch of letters love letters I am

forced to acknowledge signed by initials totally strange to me. The letters are manly in tone most of them

"Shows that the writer was displeased. It may mean nothing, but I could not let the matter go without setting

myself right with the authorities. If it might be allowed to rest here if those letters can remain sacred, it

would save me the additional pang of seeing her inmost concerns the secret and holiest recesses of a

woman's heart, laid open to the public. For, from the tenor of most of these letters, she she was not averse

Mr. Gryce moved a little restlessly in his chair and stared hard at the cutter so conveniently placed under his

"We will do what we can. But you must understand that the matter is not a simple one. That, in fact, it

contains mysteries which demand police investigation. We do not dare to trifle with any of the facts. The

inspector, and, if not he, the coroner, will have to be told about these letters and will probably ask to see

"Yes, that is understood." Then in a sudden heat and with an almost sublime trust in his daughter

"Nothing not the story told by these letters, or the sight of that sturdy papercutter with its long and very

slender blade, will make me believe that she willingly took her own life. You do not know, cannot know, the

rare delicacy of her nature. She was a lady through and through. If she had meditated death if the breach

suggested by the one letter I have mentioned, should have so preyed upon her spirits as to lead her to break

her old father's heart and outrage the feelings of all who knew her, she could not, being the woman she was,

choose a public place for such an act an hotel writingroom in face of a lobby full of hurrying men. It

was out of nature. Every one who knows her will tell you so. The deed was an accident incredible but still

Mr. Gryce had respect for this outburst. Making no attempt to answer it, he suggested, with some hesitation,

that Miss Challoner had been seen writing a letter previous to taking those fatal steps from the desk which

ended so tragically. Was this letter to one of her lady friends, as reported, and was it as far from suggesting

"It was a cheerful letter. Such a one as she often wrote to her little protogees here and there. I judge that this

was written to some girl like that, for the person addressed was not known to her maid, any more than she

was to me. It expressed an affectionate interest, and it breathed encouragement encouragement! and she

meditating her own death at the moment! Impossible! That letter should exonerate her if nothing else does."

Mr. Gryce recalled the incongruities, the inconsistencies and even the surprising contradictions which had

often marked the conduct of men and women, in his lengthy experience with the strange, the sudden, and the

tragic things of life, and slightly shook his head. He pitied Mr. Challoner, and admired even more his courage

in face of the appalling grief which had overwhelmed him, but he dared not encourage a false hope. The girl

had killed herself and with this weapon. They might not be able to prove it absolutely, but it was nevertheless

true, and this broken old man would some day be obliged to acknowledge it. But the detective said nothing of

this, and was very patient with the further arguments the other advanced to prove his point and the lofty

character of the girl to whom, misled by appearance, the police seemed inclined to attribute the awful sin of

But when, this topic exhausted, Mr. Challoner rose to leave the room, Mr. Gryce showed where his own

thoughts still centred, by asking him the date of the correspondence discovered between his daughter and her

"Some of the letters were dated last summer, some this fall. The one you are most anxious to hear about only

a month back," he added, with unconquerable devotion to what he considered his duty.

Mr. Gryce would like to have carried his inquiries further, but desisted. His heart was full of compassion for

this childless old man, doomed to have his choicest memories disturbed by cruel doubts which possibly

But when he was gone, and Sweetwater had returned, Mr. Gryce made it his first duty to communicate to his

superiors the hitherto unsuspected fact of a secret romance in Miss Challoner's seemingly calm and

wellguarded life. She had loved and been loved by one of whom her family knew nothing. And the two had

Before a table strewn with papers, in the room we have already mentioned as given over to the use of the

police, sat Dr. Heath in a mood too thoughtful to notice the entrance of Mr. Gryce and Sweetwater from the

However as the former's tread was somewhat lumbering, the coroner's attention was caught before they had

quite crossed the room, and Sweetwater, with his quick eye, noted how his arm and hand immediately fell so

"Well, Gryce, this is a dark case," he observed, as at his bidding the two detectives took their seats.

Mr. Gryce again nodded; but not so, Sweetwater. For some reason this simple expression of opinion seemed

"She was not shot. She was not struck by any other hand; yet she lies dead from a mortal wound in the breast.

Though there is no tangible proof of her having inflicted this wound upon herself, the jury will have no

The detective frowned at his hands crossed over the top of his cane, then shaking his head, replied:

"The verdict you mention is the only natural one, of course. I see that you have been talking with Miss

"Yes, and she has settled an important point for us. There was a possibility, of course, that the papercutter

which you brought to my notice had never gone with her into the mezzanine. That she, or some other person,

had dropped it in passing through the lobby. But this girl assures me that her mistress did not enter the lobby

that night. That she accompanied her down in the elevator, and saw her step off at the mezzanine. She can

also swear that the cutter was in a book she carried the book we found lying on the desk. The girl

remembers distinctly seeing its peculiarly chased handle projecting from its pages. Could anything be more

satisfactory if I was going to say, if the young lady had been of the impulsive type and the provocation

greater. But Miss Challoner's nature was calm, and were it not for these letters " here his arm shifted a little

" I should not be so sure of my jury's future verdict. Love " he went on, after a moment of silent

consideration of a letter he had chosen from those before him," disturbs the most equable natures. When it

enters as a factor, we can expect anything as you know. And Miss Challoner evidently was much attached to

"Only a man of small spirit could endure what I endured from you the other day. Love such as mine would be

respectable in a clodhopper, and I think that even you will acknowledge that I stand somewhat higher than

that. Though I was silent under your disapprobation, you shall yet have your answer. It will not lack point

The words sprang from Sweetwater, and were evidently involuntary. Dr. Heath paid no notice, but Mr.

Gryce, in shifting his hands on his cane top, gave them a sidelong look which was not without a hint of fresh

interest in a case concerning which he had believed himself to have said his last word.

"It is the only letter of them all which conveys anything like a reproach," proceeded the coroner. "The rest are

ardent enough and, I must acknowledge that, so far as I have allowed myself to look into them, sufficiently

respectful. Her surprise must consequently have been great at receiving these lines, and her resentment

equally so. If the two met afterwards But I have not shown you the signature. To the poor father it

conveyed nothing some facts have been kept from him but to us " here he whirled the letter about so

that Sweetwater, at least, could see the name, "it conveys a hope that we may yet understand Miss

"Brotherson! " exclaimed the young detective in loud surprise. "Brotherson! The man who "

"The man who left this building just before or simultaneously with the alarm caused by Miss Challoner's fall.

It clears away some of the clouds befogging us. She probably caught sight of him in the lobby, and in the

passion of the moment forgot her usual instincts and drove the sharppointed weapon into her heart.

"Brotherson!" The word came softly now, and with a thoughtful intonation. "He saw her die."

"Would he have washed his hands in the snow if he had been in ignorance of the occurrence? He was the real,

if not active, cause of her death and he knew it. Either he Excuse me, Dr. Heath and Mr. Gryce, it is not for

"Have you settled it beyond dispute that Brotherson is really the man who was seen doing this?"

"No, sir. I have not had a minute for that job, but I'm ready for the business any time you see fit to spare me."

"Let it be tomorrow, or, if you can manage it, tonight. We want the man even if he is not the hero of that

romantic episode. He wrote these letters, and he must explain the last one. His initials, as you see, are not

ordinary ones, and you will find them at the bottom of all these sheets. He was brave enough or arrogant

enough to sign the questionable one with his full name. This may speak well for him, and it may not. It is for

you to decide that. Where will you look for him, Sweetwater? No one here knows his address."

"No; the name is a new one to her. But she made it very evident that she was not surprised to hear that her

mistress was in secret correspondence with a member of the male sex. Much can be hidden from servants, but

"I'll find the man; I have a double reason for doing that now; he shall not escape me."

Dr. Heath expressed his satisfaction, and gave some orders. Meanwhile, Mr. Gryce had not uttered a word.

That evening George sat so long over the newspapers that in spite of my absorbing interest in the topic

engrossing me, I fell asleep in my cozy little rocking chair. I was awakened by what seemed like a kiss falling

very softly on my forehead, though, to be sure, it may have been only the flap of George's coat sleeve as he

"Wake up, little woman," I heard, "and trot away to bed. I'm going out and may not be in till daybreak."

"You! going out! at ten o'clock at night, tired as you are as we both are! What has happenedOh!"

This broken exclamation escaped me as I perceived in the dim background by the sittingroom door, the

"Mr. Sweetwater," explained George. "We are going out together. It is necessary, or you may be sure I should

I was quite wide awake enough by now to understand. "Oh, I know. You are going to hunt up the man. How I

But George did not wait for me to express my wishes. He gave me a little good advice as to how I had better

This ends all I have to say about myself; but the events of that night carefully related to me by George are

important enough for me to describe them, with all the detail which is their rightful due. I shall tell the story

as I have already been led to do in other portions of this narrative, as though I were present and shared the

As soon as the two were in the street, the detective turned towards George and said:

"Mr. Anderson, I have a great deal to ask of you. The business before us is not a simple one, and I fear that I

shall have to subject you to more inconvenience than is customary in matters like this. Mr. Brotherson has

vanished; that is, in his own proper person, but I have an idea that I am on the track of one who will lead us

very directly to him if we manage the affair carefully. What I want of you, of course, is mere identification.

You saw the face of the man who washed his hands in the snow, and would know it again, you say. Do you

think you could be quite sure of yourself, if the man were differently dressed and differently occupied?

"I think so. There's his height and a certain strong look in his face. I cannot describe it."

"You don't need to. Come! we're all right. You don't mind making a night of it?"

"That we can't tell yet." And with a characteristic shrug and smile, the detective led the way to a taxicab

A quarter of an hour of rather fast riding brought them into a tangle of streets on the East side. As George

noticed the swarming sidewalks and listened to the noises incident to an overpopulated quarter, he could not

forbear, despite the injunction he had received, to express his surprise at the direction of their search.

Surely," said he, "the gentleman I have described can have no friends here." Then, bethinking himself, he

added: " But if he has reasons to fear the law, naturally he would seek to lose himself in a place as different as

"Yes, that would be some men's way," was the curt, almost indifferent, answer he received. Sweetwater was

looking this way and that from the window beside him, and now, leaning out gave some directions to the

"We shall have to walk now for a block or two. I'm anxious to attract no attention, nor is it desirable for you

to do so. If you can manage to act as if you were accustomed to the place and just leave all the talking to me,

we ought to get along firstrate. Don't be astonished at anything you see, and trust me for the rest; that's all."

They alighted, and he dismissed the taxicab. Some clock in the neighbourhood struck the hour of ten. "Good!

we shall be in time," muttered the detective, and led the way down the street and round a corner or so, till

It had a sinister look, and George, who is brave enough under all ordinary circumstances, was glad that his

companion wore a badge and carried a whistle. He was also relieved when he caught sight of the burly form

of a policeman in the shadow of one of the doorways. Yet the houses he saw before him were not so very

different from those they had already passed. His uneasiness could not have sprung from them. They had

even an air of positive respectability, as though inhabited by industrious workmen. Then, what was it which

made the close companionship of a member of the police so uncommonly welcome? Was it a certain aspect

of solitariness which clung to the block, or was it the sudden appearance here and there of strangely gliding

figures, which no sooner loomed up against the snowy perspective, than they disappeared again in some

"There's a meeting on tonight, of the Associated Brotherhood of the Awl, the Plane and the Trowel

(whatever that means), and it is the speaker we want to see; the man who is to address them promptly at ten

George stood back, and a few words passed between Sweetwater and a shadowy figure which seemed to have

"Balked at the outset," were the encouraging words with which the detective rejoined George. "It seems that a

password is necessary, and my friend has been unable to get it. Will the speaker pass out this way?" he

"He didn't go in by it; yet I believe he's safe enough inside," was the muttered answer.

Sweetwater had no relish for disappointments of this character, but it was not long before he straightened up

and allowed himself to exchange a few more words with this mysterious person. These appeared to be of a

more encouraging nature than the last, for it was not long before the detective returned with renewed alacrity

"No; we're going to take him from the rear. There's a break in the fence Oh, we'll do very well. Trust me.

George laughed. He was growing excited, but not altogether agreeably so. He says that he has seen moments

of more pleasant anticipation. Evidently, my good husband is not cut out for detective work.

Where they went under this officer's guidance, he cannot tell. The tortuous tangle of alleys through which he

now felt himself led was dark as the nether regions to his unaccustomed eyes. There was snow under his feet

and now and then he brushed against some obtruding object, or stumbled against a low fence; but beyond

these slight miscalculations on his own part, he was a mere automaton in the hands of his eager guide, and

only became his own man again when they suddenly stepped into an open yard and he could discern plainly

before him the dark walls of a building pointed out by Sweetwater as their probable destination. Yet even

here they encountered some impediment which prohibited a close approach. A wall or shed cut off their view

of the building's lower storey; and though somewhat startled at being left unceremoniously alone after just a

whispered word of encouragement from the ever ready detective, George could quite understand the necessity

which that person must feel for a quiet reconnoitering of the surroundings before the two of them ventured

further forward in their possibly hazardous undertaking. Yet the experience was none too pleasing to George,

and he was very glad to hear Sweetwater's whisper again at his ear, and to feel himself rescued from the pool

"The approach is not all that can be desired," remarked the detective as they entered what appeared to be a

low shed. "The broken board has been put back and securely nailed in place, and if I am not very much

mistaken there is a fellow stationed in the yard who will want the password too. Looks shady to me. I'll have

"We're going to wait right here in the hopes of catching a glimpse of our man as he comes out," returned the

detective, drawing George towards a low window overlooking the yard he had described as sentinelled. "He

will have to pass directly under this window on his way to the alley," Sweetwater went on to explain, "and if I

"Perhaps it swings on hinges," suggested George. "It looks like that sort of a window."

"If it should well! it does. We're in great luck, sir. But before I pull it open, remember that from the

moment I unlatch it, everything said or done here can be heard in the adjoining yard. So no whispers and no

unnecessary movements. When you hear him coming, as sooner or later you certainly will, fall carefully to

your knees and lean out just far enough to catch a glimpse of him before he steps down from the porch. If he

stops to light his cigar or to pass a few words with some of the men he will leave behind, you may get a plain

enough view of his face or figure to identify him. The light is burning low in that rear hall, but it will do. If it

does not, if you can't see him or if you do, don't hang out of the window more than a second. Duck after

your first look. I don't want to be caught at this job with no better opportunity for escape than we have here.

George pinched his arm encouragingly, and Sweetwater, with an amused grunt, softly unlatched the window

A fine sleet flew in, imperceptible save for the sensation of damp it gave, and the slight haze it diffused

through the air. Enlarged by this haze, the building they were set to watch rose in magnified proportions at

their left. The yard between, piled high in the centre with snowheaps or other heaps covered with snow,

could not have been more than forty feet square. The window from which they peered, was halfway down

this yard, so that a comparatively short distance separated them from the porch where George had been told

to look for the man he was expected to identify. All was dark there at present, but he could hear from time to

time some sounds of restless movement, as the guard posted inside shifted in his narrow quarters, or struck

But what came to them from above was more interesting than anything to be heard or seen below. A man's

voice, raised to a wonderful pitch by the passion of oratory, had burst the barriers of the closed hall in that

towering third storey and was carrying its tale to other ears than those within. Had it been summer and the

windows open, both George and Sweetwater might have heard every word; for the tones were exceptionally

rich and penetrating, and the speaker intent only on the impression he was endeavouring to make upon his

audience. That he had not mistaken his power in this direction was evinced by the applause which rose from

time to time from innumerable hands and feet. But this uproar would be speedily silenced, and the mellow

voice ring out again, clear and commanding. What could the subject be to rouse such enthusiasm in the

Associated Brotherhood of the Awl, the Plane and the Trowel? There was a moment when our listening

friends expected to be enlightened. A shutter was thrown back in one of those upper windows, and the

window hurriedly, raised, during which words took the place of sounds and they heard enough to whet their

appetite for more. But only that. The shutter was speedily restored to place, and the window again closed. A

wise precaution, or so thought George if they wished to keep their doubtful proceedings secret.

A tirade against the rich and a loud call to battle could be gleaned from the few sentences they had heard. But

its virulence and pointed attack was not that of the secondrate demagogue or business agent, but of a man

Sweetwater, in whom satisfaction was fast taking the place of impatience and regret, pushed the window to

"Did you hear the voice of the man whose action attracted, your attention outside the Clermont?"

"Did you note just now the large shadow dancing on the ceiling over the speaker's head?"

"Well, he's a rum one. I shan't open this window again till he gives signs of reaching the end of his speech.

But almost immediately he gave a start and, pressing George's arm, appeared to listen, not to the speech

which was no longer audible, but to something much nearer a step or movement in the adjoining yard. At

least, so George interpreted the quick turn which this impetuous detective made, and the pains he took to

direct George's attention to the walk running under the window beneath which they crouched. Someone was

stealing down upon the house at their left, from the alley beyond. A big man, whose shoulder brushed the

window as he went by. George felt his hand seized again and pressed as this happened, and before he had

recovered from this excitement, experienced another quick pressure and still another as one, two, three

additional figures went slipping by. Then his hand was suddenly dropped, for a cry had shot up from the door

where the sentinel stood guard, followed by a sudden loud slam, and the noise of a shooting bolt, which,

proclaiming as it did that the invaders were not friends but enemies to the cause which was being vaunted

above, so excited Sweetwater that he pulled the window wide open and took a bold look out. George

Three men were standing flat against the fence leading from the shed directly to the porch. The fourth was

crouching within the latter, and in another moment they heard his fist descend upon the door inside in a way

to rouse the echoes. Meantime, the voice in the audience hall above had ceased, and there could be heard

instead the scramble of hurrying feet and the noise of overturning benches. Then a window flew up and a

But before an answer could be shouted back, this man was drawn fiercely inside, and the scramble was

"It's the police. The chief has got ahead of me. Was that the man we're after the one who shouted down?"

"We want the speaker. If the boys get him, we're all right; but if they don't wait, I must make the matter

And with a bound he vaulted through the window, whistling in a peculiar way. George, thus left quite alone,

had the pleasure of seeing his sole protector mix with the boys, as he called them, and ultimately crowd in

with them through the door which had finally been opened for their admittance. Then came a wait, and then

"Well?" inquired George, somewhat breathlessly. "Do you want me? They don't seem to be coming out."

"No; they've gone the other way. It was a red hot anarchist meeting, and no mistake. They have arrested one

of the speakers, but the other escaped. How, we have not yet found out; but I think there's a way out

somewhere by which he got the start of us. He was the man I wanted you to see. Bad luck, Mr. Anderson, but

I'm not at the end of my resources. If you'll have patience with me and accompany me a little further, I

The fellow had a way with him, hard to resist. Cold as George was and exhausted by an excitement of a kind

to which he was wholly unaccustomed, he found himself acceding to the detective's request; and after a quick

lunch and a huge cup of coffee in a restaurant which I wish I had time to describe, the two took a car which

eventually brought them into one of the oldest quarters of the Borough of Brooklyn. The sleet which had

stung their faces in the streets of New York had been left behind them somewhere on the bridge, but the chill

was not gone from the air, and George felt greatly relieved when Sweetwater paused in the middle of a long

block before a lofty tenement house of mean appearance, and signified that here they were to stop, and that

George was relieved I say, but he was also more astonished than ever. What kind of haunts were these for the

cultured gentleman who spent his evenings at the Clermont? It was easy enough in these days of extravagant

sympathies, to understand such a man addressing the uneasy spirits of lower New York he had been called

an enthusiast, and an enthusiast is very often a social agitator but to trace him afterwards to a place like this

was certainly a surprise. A tenement such a tenement as this meant home home for himself or for those he

counted his friends, and such a supposition seemed inconceivable to my poor husband, with the memory of

the gorgeous parlour of the Clermont in his mind. Indeed, he hinted something of the kind to his affable but

strangely reticent companion, but all the answer he got was a peculiar smile whose humorous twist he could

barely discern in the semidarkness of the open doorway into which they had just plunged.

"An adventure! certainly an adventure!" flashed through poor George's mind, as he peered, in great curiosity

down the long hall before him, into a dismal rear, opening into a still more dismal court. It was truly a novel

experience for a business man whose philanthropy was carried on entirely by proxy that is, by his wife.

Should he be expected to penetrate into those dark, illsmelling recesses, or would he be led up the long

flights of naked stairs, so feebly illuminated that they gave the impression of extending indefinitely into

Sweetwater seemed to decide for the rear, for leaving George, he stepped down the hall into the court beyond,

where George could see him casting inquiring glances up at the walls above him. Another tenement, similar

to the one whose rear end he was contemplating, towered behind but he paid no attention to that. He was

satisfied with the look he had given and came quickly back, joining George at the foot of the staircase, up

It was a rude, nonetoowellcaredfor building, but it seemed respectable enough and very quiet,

considering the mass of people it accommodated. There were marks of poverty everywhere, but no squalor.

One flight two flights three and then George's guide stopped, and, looking back at him, made a gesture.

It appeared to be one of caution, but when the two came together at the top of the staircase, Sweetwater spoke

"That's the room. We'll keep a sharp watch and when any man, no matter what his dress or appearance comes

"Oh, he hasn't come in yet. I took pains to find that out. You saw me go into the court and look up. That was

The suppressed excitement contained in these words made George stare. Indeed, he had been wondering for

some time at the manner of the detective which showed a curious mixture of several opposing emotions.

Now, the fellow was actually in a tremble of hope or impatience; and, not content with listening, he peered

every few minutes down the well of the staircase, and when he was not doing that, tramped from end to end

of the narrow passageway separating the head of the stairs from the door he had pointed out, like one to

whom minutes were hours. All this time he seemed to forget George who certainly had as much reason as

himself for finding the time long. But when, after some half hour of this tedium and suspense, there rose from

below the faint clatter of ascending footsteps, he remembered his meek companion and beckoning him to one

side, began a studied conversation with him, showing him a notebook in which he had written such phrases

If it is a face you have seen before; if it is the one we are expecting to see, pull your necktie straight. It's a

These rather startling injunctions were read by George, with no very perceptible diminution of the uneasiness

which it was only natural for him to feel at the oddity of his position. But only the demand last made

produced any impression on him. The man they were waiting for was no further up than the second floor, but

instinctively George's hand had flown to his necktie, and he was only stopped from its premature

"Not unless you know him," whispered the detective; and immediately launched out into an easy talk about

some totally different business which George neither understood, nor was expected to, I dare say.

Suddenly the steps below paused, and George heard Sweetwater draw in his breath in irrepressible dismay.

But they were immediately resumed, and presently the head and shoulders of a workingman of uncommon

George cast him a keen look, and his hand rose doubtfully to his neck and then fell back again. The

approaching man was tall, very wellproportioned and easy of carriage; but the face such of it as could be

seen between his cap and the high collar he had pulled up about his ears, conveyed no exact impression to

George's mind, and he did not dare to give the signal Sweetwater expected from him. Yet as the man went by

with a dark and sidelong glance at them both, he felt his hand rise again, though he did not complete the

action, much to his own disgust and to the evident disappointment of the watchful detective.

"You're not sure?" he now heard, oddly interpolated in the stream of halfwhispered talk with which the

George shook his head. He could not rid himself of the old impression he had formed of the man in the snow.

"Mr. Dunn, a word with you," suddenly spoke up Sweetwater, to the man who had just passed them. "That's

"Yes, that is my name," was the quiet response, in a voice which was at once rich and resonant; a voice which

George knew the voice of the impassioned speaker he had heard resounding through the sleet as he

cowered within hearing in the shed behind the Avenue A tenement. "Who are you who wish to speak to me at

"Well, we are You know what," smiled the ready detective, advancing halfway to greet him. "We're not

members of the Associated Brotherhood, but possibly have hopes of being so. At all events, we should like to

Mr. Dunn met the concentrated gaze of his two evidently unwelcome visitors with a frankness which dashed

George's confidence in himself, but made little visible impression upon his daring companion.

"I should rather see you at another time," said he. "But " his hesitation was inappreciable save to the nicest

ear " if you will allow me to be brief, I will tell you what I know which is very little."

Sweetwater was greatly taken aback. All he had looked for, as he was careful to tell my husband later, was a

sufficiently prolonged conversation to enable George to mark and study the workings of the face he was not

yet sure of. Nor did the detective feel quite easy at the readiness of his reception; nor any too well pleased to

But he suffered no betrayal of his misgivings to escape him, though he was careful to intimate to George, as

they waited in the doorway for the other to light up, that he should not be displeased at his refusal to

accompany him further in this adventure, and even advised him to remain in the hall till he received his

But George had not come as far as this to back out now, and as soon as he saw Sweetwater advance into the

The room, like many others in these oldfashioned tenements, had a jog just where the door was, so that on

entering they had to take several steps before they could get a full glimpse of its four walls. When they did,

both showed surprise. Comfort, if not elegance, confronted them, which impression, however, was

immediately lost in the evidences of work, manual, as well as intellectual, which were everywhere scattered

The man who lived here was not only a student, as was evinced by a long wall full of books, but he was an

So much could be learned from the most cursory glance. A more careful one picked up other facts fully as

startling and impressive. The books were choice; the invention to all appearance a practical one; the art of a

high order and the music, such as was in view, of a character of which the nicest taste need not be ashamed.

George began to feel quite conscious of the intrusion of which they had been guilty, and was amazed at the

ease with which the detective carried himself in the presence of such manifestations of culture and good, hard

work. He was trying to recall the exact appearance of the figure he had seen stooping in the snowy street two

nights before, when he found himself staring at the occupant of the room, who had taken up his stand before

He had thrown aside his hat and rid himself of his overcoat, and the fearlessness of his aspect seemed to

daunt the hitherto dauntless Sweetwater, who, for the first time in his life, perhaps, hunted in vain for words

Had he made an awful mistake? Was this Mr. Dunn what he seemed an unknown and careful genius, battling

struggle to give the world something of value in return for what it had given him? The quick, almost

deprecatory glance he darted at George betrayed his dismay; a dismay which George had begun to share,

notwithstanding his growing belief that the man's face was not wholly unknown to him even if he could not

"You seem to have forgotten your errand," came in quiet, if not goodnatured, sarcasm from their patiently

"It's the room," muttered Sweetwater, with an attempt at his oldtime ease which was not as fully successful

as usual. "What an allfired genius you must be. I never saw the like. And in a tenement house too! You

ought to be in one of those big new studio buildings in New York where artists be and everything you see is

The detective started, George started, at the gleam which answered him from a very uncommon eye. It was a

temporary flash, however, and quickly veiled, and the tone in which this Dunn now spoke was anything but

"I thought you were desirous of joining a socialistic fraternity," said he; " a true aspirant for such honours

don't care for beautiful things unless all can have them. I prefer my tenement. How is it with you, friends?"

Sweetwater found some sort of a reply, though the thing which this man now did must have startled him, as it

certainly did George. They were so grouped that a table quite full of anomalous objects stood at the back of

their host, and consequently quite beyond their own reach. As Sweetwater began to speak, he whom he had

addressed by the name of Dunn, drew a pistol from his breast pocket and laid it down barrel towards them on

this table top. Then he looked up courteously enough, and listened till Sweetwater was done. A very

handsome man, but one not to be trifled with in the slightest degree. Both recognised this fact, and George,

"Now I feel easier," remarked the giant, swelling out his chest. He was unusually tall, as well as unusually

muscular. " I never like to carry arms; but sometimes it is unavoidable. Damn it, what hands!" He was

looking at his own, which certainly showed soil. "Will you pardon me?" he pleasantly apologised, stepping

towards a washstand and plunging his hands into the basin. "I cannot think with dirt on me like that. Humph,

He turned quickly on George who had certainly uttered an ejaculation, but receiving no reply, went on with

his task, completing it with a care and a disregard of their presence which showed him up in still another

But even his hardihood showed shock, when, upon turning round with a brisk, "Now I'm ready to talk," he

encountered again the clear eye of Sweetwater. For, in the person of this none too welcome intruder, he saw a

very different man from the one upon whom he had just turned his back with so little ceremony; and there

appeared to be no good reason for the change. He had not noted in his preoccupation, how George, at sight of

his stooping figure, had made a sudden significant movement, and if he had, the pulling of a necktie straight,

would have meant nothing to him. But to Sweetwater it meant every thing, and it was in the tone of one fully

at ease with himself that he now dryly remarked: Mr. Brotherson, if you feel quite clean; and if you have

sufficiently warmed yourself, I would suggest that we start out at once, unless you prefer to have me share

There was silence. Mr. Dunn thus addressed attempted no answer; not for a full minute. The two men were

measuring each other George felt that he did not count at all and they were quite too much occupied with

this task to heed the passage of time. To George, who knew little, if anything, of what this silent struggle

meant to either, it seemed that the detective stood no show before this Samson of physical strength and

intellectual power, backed by a pistol just within reach of his hand. But as George continued to look and saw

the figure of the smaller man gradually dilate, while that of the larger, the more potent and the better guarded,

gave unmistakable signs of secret wavering, he slowly changed his mind and, ranging himself with the

detective, waited for the word or words which should explain this situation and render intelligible the triumph

But he was not destined to have his curiosity satisfied so far. He might witness and hear, but it was long

"Brotherson?" repeated their host, after the silence had lasted to the breakingpoint. "Why do you call me

"Because you spoke under the name of Dunn at the meeting tonight, and if I don't mistake, that is the name

"It is late to ask, isn't it? But I'm willing to speak it now, and I might not have been so a little earlier in our

conversation. I am Detective Sweetwater of the New York Department of Police, and my errand here is a

very simple one. Some letters signed by you have been found among the papers of the lady whose mysterious

death at the hotel Clermont is just now occupying the attention of the New York authorities. If you have any

information to give which will in any way explain that death, your presence will be welcome at Coroner

Heath's office in New York. If you have not, your presence will still be welcome. At all events, I was told to

bring you. You will be on hand to accompany me in the morning, I am quite sure, pardoning the

The humour with which this was said seemed to rob it of anything like attack, and Mr. Brotherson, as we

shall hereafter call him, smiled with an odd acceptance of the same, as he responded:

"I will go before the police certainly. I haven't much to tell, but what I have is at their service. It will not help

He bounded towards Sweetwater, who had simply stepped to the window, lifted the shade and looked across

"I wanted to see if it was still snowing," explained the detective, with a smile, which seemed to strike the

Mr. Brotherson drew back. The cold air of self possession which he now assumed, presented such a contrast

to the unwarranted heat of the moment before that George wondered greatly over it, and later, when he

recapitulated to me the whole story of this night, it was this incident of the lifted shade, together with the

emotion it had caused, which he acknowledged as being for him the most inexplicable event of the evening

As this ends our connection with this affair, I will bid you my personal farewell. I have often wished that

circumstances had made it possible for me to accompany you through the remaining intricacies of this

At an early hour the next morning, Sweetwater stood before the coroner's desk, urging a plea he feared to

hear refused. He wished to be present at the interview soon to be held with Mr. Brotherson, and he had no

It's not curiosity," said he. "There's a question I hope to see settled. I can't communicate it you would laugh

at me; but it's an important one, a very important one, and I beg that you will let me sit in one of the corners

and hear what he says. I won't bother and I'll be very still, so still that he'll hardly notice me. Do grant me this

The coroner, who had had some little experience with this man, surveyed him with a smile less forbidding

"You seem to lay great store by it," said he; "if you want to sort those papers over there, you may."

"Thank you. I don't understand the job, but I promise you not to increase the confusion. If I do; if I rattle the

leaves too loudly, it will mean, 'Press him further on this exact point,' but I doubt if I rattle them, sir. No such

The last three words were uttered sotto voce, but the coroner heard him, and followed his ungainly figure

with a glance of some curiosity, as he settled himself at the desk on the other side of the room.

"Is the man " he began, but at this moment the man entered, and Dr. Heath forgot the young detective, in his

Neither dressed with the elegance known to the habitues of the Clermont, nor yet in the workman's outfit in

which he had thought best to appear before the Associated Brotherhood, the newcomer advanced, with an

aspect of open respect which could not fail to make a favourable impression upon the critical eye of the

official awaiting him. So favourable, indeed, was this impression that that gentleman half rose, infusing a

little more consideration into his greeting than he was accustomed to show to his prospective witnesses. Such

a fearless eye he had seldom encountered, nor was it often his pleasure to confront so conspicuous a specimen

"I'm glad we have made no mistake," smiled the doctor. "Mr. Brotherson, I have sent for you under the

supposition that you were a friend of the unhappy lady lately dead at the Hotel Clermont."

"I knew the lady. But " here the speaker's eye took on a look as questioning as that of his interlocutor " but

in a way so devoid of all publicity that I cannot but feel surprised that the fact should be known."

At this, the listening Sweetwater hoped that Dr. Heath would ignore the suggestion thus conveyed and

decline the explanation it apparently demanded. But the impression made by the gentleman's good looks had

been too strong for this coroner's proverbial caution, and, handing over the slip of a note which had been

"Excuse me, I had rather not. I am aware that they were bitter and should be the cause of great regret. I was

"That is evident. But the cause of your anger is not so clear, Mr. Brotherson. Miss Challoner was a woman of

lofty character, or such was the universal opinion of her friends. What could she have done to a gentleman

"I am obliged to. There is mystery surrounding her death; the kind of mystery which demands perfect

frankness on the part of all who were near her on that evening, or whose relations to her were in any way

peculiar. You acknowledge that your friendship was of such a guarded nature that it surprised you greatly to

"Because " the word came glibly; but the next one was long in following. " Because," he repeated, letting

the fire of some strong feeling disturb for a moment his dignified reserve, "I offered myself to Miss

"They may. I was hardly master of myself at the time. I may have expressed myself in an unfortunate

There was no hesitancy now. Rising, he leaned over the table and read the few words the other had spread out

for his perusal. Then he slowly rose to his full height, as he answered, with some slight display of

"That you are not seeking to establish a connection between this letter and her violent death?"

"Letters of this sort are often very mischievous, Mr. Brotherson. The harshness with which this is written

might easily rouse emotions of a most unhappy nature in the breast of a woman as sensitive as Miss

"Pardon me, Dr. Heath; I cannot flatter myself so far. You overrate my influence with the lady you name."

A start, too slight to be noted by any one but the watchful Sweetwater, showed that this question had gone

home. But the selfpoise and mental control of this man were perfect, and in an instant he was facing the

coroner again, with a dignity. which gave no clew to the disturbance into which his thoughts had just been

"I have never allowed myself to think otherwise. I have seen no reason why I should. The suggestion you

would convey by such a question is hardly welcome, now. I pray you to be careful in your judgment of such a

woman's impulses. They often spring from sources not to be sounded even by her dearest friends."

Just; but how cold! Dr. Heath, eyeing him with admiration rather than sympathy, hesitated how to proceed;

while Sweetwater, peering up from his papers, sought in vain for some evidence of the bereaved lover in the

impressive but wholly dispassionate figure of him who had just spoken. Had pride got the better of his heart?

or had that organ always been subordinate to the will in this man of instincts so varying, that at one time he

impressed you simply as a typical gentleman of leisure; at another, as no more than a fiery agitator with

powers absorbed by, if not limited to the one cause he advocated; and again and this seemed the most

contradictory of all just the ardent inventor, living in a tenement, with Science for his goddess and work

always under his hand? As the young detective weighed these possibilities and marvelled over the

contradictions they offered, he forgot the papers now lying quiet under his hand. He was too interested to

Meantime, the coroner had collected his thoughts. With an apology for the extremely personal nature of his

inquiry, he asked Mr. Brotherson if he would object to giving him some further details of his

acquaintanceship with Miss Challoner; where he first met her and under what circumstances their friendship

"Not at all," was the ready reply. "I have nothing to conceal in the matter. I only wish that her father were

present that he might listen to the recital of my acquaintanceship with his daughter. He might possibly

understand her better and regard with more leniency the presumption into which I was led by my ignorance

"Your wish can very easily be gratified," returned the official, pressing an electric button on his desk;

"Mr. Challoner is in the adjoining room." Then, as the door communicating with the room he had mentioned

swung ajar and stood so, Dr. Heath added, without apparent consciousness of the dramatic character of this

episode, "You will not need to raise your voice beyond its natural pitch. He can hear perfectly from where he

"Thank you. I am glad to speak in his presence," came in undisturbed selfpossession from this not easily

surprised witness. " I shall relate the facts exactly as they occurred, adding nothing and concealing nothing. If

I mistook my position, or Miss Challoner's position, it is not for me to apologise. I never hid my business

from her, nor the moderate extent of my fortune. If she knew me at all, she knew me for what I am; a man of

the people who glories in work and who has risen by it to a position somewhat unique in this city. I feel no

A most unnecessary preamble, no doubt, and of doubtful efficacy in smoothing his way to a correct

understanding with the deeply bereaved father. But he looked so handsome as he thus asserted himself and

made so much of his inches and the noble poise of his head though cold of eye and always cold of manner

that those who saw, as well as heard him, forgave this display of egotism in consideration of its honesty and

"I first met Miss Challoner in the Berkshires," he began, after a moment of quiet listening for any possible

sound from the other room. "I had been on the tramp, and had stopped at one of the great hotels for a seven

days' rest. I will acknowledge that I chose this spot at the instigation of a relative who knew my tastes and

how perfectly they might be gratified there. That I should mingle with the guests may not have been in his

thought, any more than it was in mine at the beginning of my stay. The panorama of beauty spread out before

me on every side was sufficient in itself for my enjoyment, and might have continued so to the end if my

attention had not been very forcibly drawn on one memorable morning to a young lady Miss Challoner

by the very earnest look she gave me as I was crossing the office from one verandah to another. I must insist

on this look, even if it shock the delicacy of my listeners, for without the interest it awakened in me, I might

not have noticed the blush with which she turned aside to join her friends on the verandah. It was an

overwhelming blush which could not have sprung from any slight embarrassment, and, though I hate the

pretensions of those egotists who see in a woman's smile more than it by right conveys, I could not help being

moved by this display of feeling in one so gifted with every grace and attribute of the perfect woman. With

less caution than I usually display, I approached the desk where she had been standing and, meeting the eyes

of the clerk, asked the young lady's name. He gave it, and waited for me to express the surprise he expected it

to evoke. But I felt none and showed none. Other feelings had seized me. I had heard of this gracious woman

from many sources, in my life among the suffering masses of New York, and now that I had seen her and

found her to be not only my ideal of personal loveliness but seemingly approachable and not uninterested in

myself, I allowed my fancy to soar and my heart to become touched. A fact which the clerk now confided to

me naturally deepened the impression. Miss Challoner had seen my name in the guestbook and asked to

have me pointed out to her. Perhaps she had heard my name spoken in the same quarter where I had heard

hers. We have never exchanged confidences on the subject, and I cannot say. I can only give you my reason

for the interest I felt in Miss Challoner and why I forgot, in the glamour of this episode, the aims and

purposes of a not unambitious life and the distance which the world and the socalled aristocratic class put

"I must be pardoned. She had smiled upon me once, and she smiled again. Days before we were formally

presented, I caught her softened look turned my way, as we passed each other in hall or corridor. We were

friends, or so it appeared to me, before ever a word passed between us, and when fortune favoured us and we

were duly introduced, our minds met in a strange sympathy which made this one interview a memorable one

to me. Unhappily, as I then considered it, this was my last day at the hotel, and our conversation, interrupted

frequently by passing acquaintances, was never resumed. I exchanged a few words with her by way of

goodbye but nothing more. I came to New York, and she remained in Lenox. A month after and she too

"I do; it made a great impression on me. 'I shall hope for our further acquaintance,' she said. 'We have one

very strong interest in common. And if ever a human face spoke eloquently, it was hers at that moment. The

interest, as I understood it, was our mutual sympathy for our toiling, halfstarved, downtrodden brothers

and sisters in the lower streets of this city; but the eloquence that I probably mistook. I thought it sprang

from personal interest, and it gave me courage to pursue the intention which had taken the place of every

other feeling and ambition by which I had hitherto been moved. Here was a woman in a thousand; one who

could make a man of me indeed. If she could ignore the social gulf between us, I felt free to take the leap.

Cowardice had never been a fault of mine. But I was no fool even then. I realised that I must first let her see

the manner of man I was and what life meant to me and must mean to her if the union I contemplated should

become an actual fact. I wrote letters to her, but I did not give her my address or even request a reply. I was

not ready for any word from her. I am not like other men and I could wait. And I did, for weeks, then I

The change of voice the bitterness which he infused into this final sentence made every one look up.

Hitherto he had spoken calmly, almost monotonously, as if no present heartbeat responded to this tale of

vanished love; but with the words, "Then I suddenly appeared at her hotel," he showed himself human again,

and betrayed a passion which though curbed was of the fiery quality, befitting his extraordinary attributes of

"This was when?" put in Dr. Heath, anxious to bridge the pause which must have been very painful to the

"The week after Thanksgiving. I did not see her the first day, and only casually the second. But she knew I

was in the building, and when I came upon her one evening seated at the very desk in the mezzanine which

we all have such bitter cause to remember, I could not forbear expressing myself in a way she could not

misunderstand. The result was of a kind to drive a man like myself to an extremity of selfcondemnation and

rage. She rose up as if insulted, and flung me one sentence and one sentence only before she hailed the

elevator and left my presence. A cur could not have been dismissed with less ceremony."

"That is not like my daughter. What was the sentence you allude to? Let me hear the very words." Mr.

Challoner had come forward and now stood awaiting his reply, a dignified but pathetic figure, which all must

"I hate the memory of them, but since you demand it, I will repeat them just as they fell from her lips," was

Mr. Brotherson's bitter retort. " She said, 'You of all men should recognise the unseemliness of these

proposals. Had your letters given me any hint of the feelings you have just expressed, you would never have

had this opportunity of approaching me.' That was all; but her indignation was scathing. Ladies who have

supped exclusively off silver, show a fine scorn for the common ware of the cottager."

Mr. Challoner bowed. "There is some mistake," said he. "My daughter might be averse to your addresses, but

she would never show indignation to any aspirant for her hand, simply on account of extraneous conditions.

She had wide sympathies wider than I often approved. Something in your conduct or the confidence you

showed shocked her nicer sense; not your lack of the luxuries she often misprised. This much I feel obliged to

"You have seen her with men of her own world and yours," was the harsh response. "She had another side to

her nature for the man of a different sphere. And it killed my love that you can see and led to my sending

her the injudicious letter with which you have confronted me. The hurt bull utters one bellow before he dies. I

bellowed, and bellowed loudly, but I did not die. I'm my own man still and mean to remain so."

The assertive boldness some would call it bravado with which he thus finished the story of his relations

with the dead heiress, seemed to be more than Mr. Challoner could stand. With a look of extreme pain and

"Is this letter a letter of threat you will remember the only communication which passed between you and

"Yes. I had no wish to address her again. I had exhausted in this one outburst whatever humiliation I felt."

"None whatever." Then, as if he found it impossible to hide this hurt to his pride, "She did not even seem to

consider me worthy the honour of an added rebuke. Such arrogance is, no doubt, commendable in a

" Remember the grey hairs of the only Challoner who can hear you, and respect his grief."

"I have finished," said he. "I shall have nothing more to say on the subject." And he drew himself up in

But the coroner was not done with him by any means. He had a theory in regard to this lamentable suicide

which he hoped to establish by this man's testimony, and, in pursuit of this plan, he not only motioned to Mr.

Brotherson to reseat himself, but began at once to open a fresh line of examination by saying:

"You will pardon me, if I press this matter. I have been given to understand that notwithstanding your break

with Miss Challoner, you have kept up your visits to the Clermont and were even on the spot at the time of

"Very near the time. I remember hearing some disturbance in the lobby behind me, just as I was passing out

"Why should I return? I am not a man of much curiosity. There was no reason why I should connect a sudden

alarm in the lobby of the Clermont with any cause of special interest to myself."

This was so true and the look which accompanied the words was so frank that the coroner hesitated a moment

"Certainly not, unless well, to be direct, unless you had just seen Miss Challoner and knew her state of

Sweetwater's papers rattled; it was the only sound to be heard in that moment of silence. Then "What do

you mean by those words?" inquired Mr. Brotherson, with studied composure. "I have said that I had no

"Because I believe that you did. From a distance possibly, but yet directly and with no possibility of mistake."

Nothing not even the rattling of Sweetwater's papers disturbed the silence which followed this admission.

"From a point far enough away to make any communication between us impossible. I do not think you will

"If it were one which made it possible for her to see you as clearly as you could see her, I think it would be

"I will locate it myself. I had hoped not to be called upon to mention what I cannot but consider a most

unfortunate coincidence. As a gentleman you will understand my reticence and also why it is a matter of

regret to me that with an acumen worthy of your position, you should have discovered a fact which, while it

cannot explain Miss Challoner's death, will drag our little affair before the public, and possibly give it a

prominence in some minds which I am sure does not belong to it. I met Miss Challoner's eye for one instant

from the top of the little staircase running up to the mezzanine. I had yielded thus far to an impulse I had

frequently combated, to seek by another interview to retrieve the bad effect which must have been made upon

her by my angry note. I knew that she frequently wrote letters in the mezzanine at this hour, and got as far as

the top of the staircase in my effort to join her. But got no further. When I saw her on her feet, with her face

turned my way, I remembered the scorn with which she had received my former heartfelt proposals and,

without taking another step forward, I turned away from her and fled down the steps and so out of the

building by the main entrance. She saw me, for her hand flew up with a startled gesture, but I cannot think

that my presence on the same floor with her could have caused her to strike the blow which terminated her

life. Why should I? No woman sacrifices her life out of mere regret for the disdain she has shown a man she

His tone and his attitude seemed to invite the concurrence of Dr. Heath in this statement. But the richness of

the one and the grace of the other showed the handsome speaker off to such advantage that the coroner was

rather inclined to consider how a woman, even of Miss Challoner's fine taste and careful breeding, might see

in such a situation much for regret, if not for active despair and the suicidal act. He gave no evidence of his

thought, however, but followed up the one admission made by Mr. Brotherson which he and others must

"You saw Miss Challoner lift her hand, you say. Which hand, and what was in it? Anything?"

"She lifted her right hand, but it would be impossible for me to tell you whether there was anything in it or

not. I simply saw the movement before I turned away. It looked like one of alarm to me. I felt that she had

some reason for this. She could not know that it was in repentance I came rather than in fulfilment of my

A sigh from the adjoining room. Mr. Brotherson rose, as he heard it, and in doing so met the clear eye of

Sweetwater fixed upon his own. Its language was, no doubt, peculiar and it seemed to fascinate him for a

moment, for he started as if to approach the detective, but forsook this intention almost immediately, and

"Her death following so quickly upon this abortive attempt of mine at an interview startled me by its

coincidence as much as it does you. If in the weakness of her woman's nature, it was more than this if the

scorn she had previously shown me was a cloak she instinctively assumed to hide what she was not ready to

disclose, my remorse will be as great as any one here could wish. But the proof of all this will have to be very

convincing before my present convictions will yield to it. Some other and more poignant source will have to

be found for that instant's impulsive act than is supplied by this story of my unfortunate attachment.

Dr. Heath was convinced, but he was willing to concede something to the secret demand made upon him by

Looking up with a smile which had elements in it he was hardly conscious of perhaps himself, he asked in an

"Then why did you take such pains to wash your hands of the affair the moment you had left the hotel?"

"Just what you have suggested. I did go through the pantomime of washing my hands of an affair I

considered definitely ended. I had resisted an irrepressible impulse to see and talk with Miss Challoner again,

and was pleased with my firmness. Unaware of the tragic blow which had just fallen, I was full of

selfcongratulations at my escape from the charm which had lured me back to this hotel again and again in

spite of my better judgment, and I wished to symbolise my relief by an act of which I was, in another

moment, ashamed. Strange that there should have been a witness to it. (Here he stole a look at Sweetwater.)

Stranger still, that circumstances by the most extraordinary of coincidences, should have given so unforeseen

"You are right, Mr. Brotherson. The whole occurrence is startling and most strange. But life is made up of the

unexpected, as none know better than we physicians, whether our practice be of a public or private

As Mr. Brotherson left the room, the curiosity to which he had yielded once before, led him to cast a glance

of penetrating inquiry behind him full at Sweetwater, and if either felt embarrassment, it was not the hunted

"I've simply met the strongest man I've ever encountered," was Sweetwater's encouraging comment to

himself. "All the more glory if I can find a joint in his armour or a hidden passage to his cold, secretive

"Mr. Gryce, I am either a fool or the luckiest fellow going. You must decide which."

The aged detective, thus addressed, laid down his evening paper and endeavoured to make out the dim form

"No one else. Sweetwater, the fool, or Sweetwater, much too wise for his own good. I don't know which.

"I'm just in the mood to settle that question. This last failure to my account ought to make me an excellent

judge of another's folly. I've meddled with the old business for the last time, Sweetwater. You'll have to go it

lone from now on. The Department has no more work for Ebenezar Gryce, or rather Ebenezar Gryce will

make no more fool attempts to please them. Strange that a man don't know when his time has come to quit. I

remember low I once scored Yeardsley for hanging on after he had lost his grip; and here am I doing the

same thing. But what's the matter with you? Speak out, my boy. Something new in the wind?"

"No, Mr. Gryce; nothing new. It's the same old business. But, if what I suspect is true, this same old business

offers opportunities for some very interesting and unusual effort. You're not satisfied with the coroner's

"No. I'm satisfied with nothing that leaves all ends dangling. Suicide was not proved. It seemed the only

presumption possible, but it was not proved. There was no bloodstain on that cutterpoint."

"No. I'm not proud of the chain which lacks a link where it should be strongest."

"Yes; I believe we can do it; yet I have only one indisputable fact for a starter. That is why I want you to tell

me whether I'm growing daft or simply adventurous. Mr. Gryce, I don't trust Brotherson. He has pulled the

wool over Dr. Heath's eyes and almost over those of Mr. Challoner. But he can't pull it over mine. Though he

should tell a story ten times more plausible than the one with which he has satisfied the coroner's jury, I

would still listen to him with more misgiving than confidence. Yet I have caught him in no misstatement, and

his eye is steadier than my own. Perhaps it is simply a deeply rooted antipathy on my part, or the rage one

"No; the one may involve fifty, but it is big enough in itself to hold our attention for a while. Did you ever

"You forget. The wealth, beauty and social consequence of the present victim has blinded you to the strong

resemblance which her case bears to one you know, in which the sufferer had none of the worldly advantages

"Wait! the washerwoman in Hicks Street! Sweetwater, what have you got up your sleeve? You do mean that

"The same. The Department may have forgotten it, but I haven't. Mr. Gryce, there's a startling similarity in

the two cases if you study the essential features only. Startling, I assure you."

"Yes, you are right there. But what if there is? We were no more successful in solving that case than we have

been in solving this. Yet you look and act like a hound which has struck a hot scent. The young man

"I shall never learn," said he, "not to give tongue till the hunt is fairly started. If you will excuse me we'll first

make sure of the similarity I have mentioned. Then I'll explain myself. I have some notes here, made at the

time it was decided to drop the Hicks Street case as a wholly inexplicable one. As you know, I never can bear

to say 'die,' and I sometimes keep such notes as a possible help in case any such unfinished matter should

"Do. Twenty years ago it would not have been necessary. I should have remembered every detail of an affair

so puzzling. But my memory is no longer entirely reliable. So fire away, my boy, though I hardly see your

purpose or what real bearing the affair in Hicks Street has upon the Clermont one. A poor washerwoman and

"The connection will come later," smiled the young detective, with that strange softening of his features

which made one at times forget his extreme plainness. "I'm sure you will not consider the time lost if I ask

you to consider the comparison I am about to make, if only as a curiosity in criminal annals."

"'On the afternoon of December Fourth, 1910, the strong and persistent screaming of a young child in one of

the rooms of a rear tenement in Hicks Street, Brooklyn, drew the attention of some of the inmates and led

them, after several ineffectual efforts to gain an entrance, to the breaking in of the door which had been

"'The tenant whom all knew for an honest, hardworking woman, had not infrequently fastened her door in

this manner, in order to safeguard her child who was abnormally active and had a way of rattling the door

open when it was not thus secured. But she had never refused to open before, and the child's cries were

"'This was no longer a matter of wonder, when, the door having been wrenched from its hinges, they all

rushed in. Across a tub of steaming clothes lifted upon a bench in the open window, they saw the body of this

good woman, lying inert and seemingly dead; the frightened child tugging at her skirts. She was of a robust

make, fleshy and fair, and had always been considered a model of health and energy, but at the sight of her

helpless figure, thus stricken while at work, the one cry was 'A stroke! till she had been lifted off and laid

upon the floor. Then some discoloration in the water at the bottom of the tub led to a closer examination of

her body, and the discovery of a bullethole in her breast directly over the heart.

"'As she had been standing with face towards the window, all crowded that way to see where the shot had

come from. As they were on the fourth storey it could not have come from the court upon which the room

looked. It could only have come from the front tenement, towering up before them some twenty feet away. A

single window of the innumerable ones confronting them stood open, and this was the one directly opposite.

"'Nobody was to be seen there or in the room beyond, but during the excitement, one man ran off to call the

"'His reply threw them all into confusion. The tenant of that room was the best, the quietest and most

"'Then he must be simply careless and the shot an accidental one. A rush was made for the stairs and soon the

whole building was in an uproar. But when this especial room was reached, it was found locked and on the

door a paper pinned up, on which these words were written: Gone to New York. Will be back at 6:30! Words

that recalled a circumstance to the janitor. He had seen the gentleman go out an hour before. This terminated

all inquiry in this direction, though some few of the excited throng were for battering down this door just as

they had the other one. But they were overruled by the janitor, who saw no use in such wholesale destruction,

and presently the arrival of the police restored order and limited the inquiry to the rear building, where it

Mr. Gryce," (here Sweetwater laid by his notes that he might address the old gentleman more directly), "I was

with the boys when they made their first official investigation. This is why you can rely upon the facts as here

given. I followed the investigation closely and missed nothing which could in any way throw light on the

case. It was a mysterious one from the first, and lost nothing by further inquiry into the details.

"The first fact to startle us as we made our way up through the crowd which blocked halls and staircases was

this: A doctor had been found and, though he had been forbidden to make more than a cursory examination

of the body till the coroner came, he had not hesitated to declare after his first look, that the wound had not

been made by a bullet but by some sharp and slender weapon thrust home by a powerful hand. (You mark

that, Mr. Gryce.) As this seemed impossible in face of the fact that the door had been found buttoned on the

inside, we did not give much credit to his opinion and began our work under the obvious theory of an

accidental discharge of some gun from one of the windows across the court. But the doctor was nearer right

than we supposed. When the coroner came to look into the matter, he discovered that the wound was not only

too small to have been made by the ordinary bullet, but that there was no bullet to be found in the woman's

body or anywhere else. Her heart had been reached by a thrust and not by a shot from a gun. Mr. Gryce, have

"But to go back. This discovery, so important if true, was as yet that is, at the time of our entering the

room, limited to the offhand declaration of an irresponsible physician, but the possibility it involved was of

so astonishing a nature that it influenced us unconsciously in our investigation and led us almost immediately

into a consideration of the difficulties attending an entrance into, as well as an escape from, a room situated

"Up three flights from the court, with no communication with the adjoining rooms save through a door

guarded on both sides by heavy pieces of furniture no one person could handle, the hall door buttoned on the

inside, and the fireescape some fifteen feet to the left, this room of death appeared to be as removed from

the approach of a murderous outsider as the spot in the writingroom of the Clermont where Miss Challoner

"Otherwise, the place presented the greatest contrast possible to that scene of splendour and comfort. I had

not entered the Clermont at that time, and no, such comparison could have struck my mind. But I have

thought of it since, and you, with your experience, will not find it difficult to picture the room where this poor

woman lived and worked. Bare walls, with just a newspaper illustration pinned up here and there, a bed

tragically occupied at this moment a kitchen stove on which a boiler, halffilled with steaming clothes still

bubbled and foamed, an old bureau, a large pine wardrobe against an inner door which we later found to

have been locked for months, and the key lost, some chairs and most pronounced of all, because of its

position directly before the window, a pine bench supporting a washtub of the old sort.

"As it was here the woman fell, this tub naturally received the closest examination. A board projected from its

further side, whither it had evidently been pushed by the weight of her falling body; and from its top hung a

wet cloth, marking with its lugubrious drip on the boards beneath the first heavy moments of silence which is

the natural accompaniment of so serious a survey. On the floor to the right lay a halfused cake of soap just

as it had slipped from her hand. The window was closed, for the temperature was at the freezingpoint, but it

had been found up, and it was put up now to show the height at which it had then stood. As we all took our

look at the house wall opposite, a sound of shouting came up from below. A dozen children were sliding on

barrel staves down a slope of heapedup snow. They had been engaged in this sport all the afternoon and

were our witnesses later that no one had made a hazardous escape by means of the ladder of the fireescape,

"Of her own child, whose cries had roused the neighbours, nothing was to be seen. The woman in the extreme

rear had carried it off to her room; but when we came to see it later, no doubt was felt by any of us that this

child was too young to talk connectedly, nor did I ever hear that it ever said anything which could in any way

"And that is as far as we ever got. The coroner's jury brought in a verdict of death by means of a stab from

some unknown weapon in the hand of a person also unknown, but no weapon was ever found, nor was it ever

settled how the attack could have been made or the murderer escape under the conditions described. The

woman was poor, her friends few, and the case seemingly inexplicable. So after creating some excitement by

its peculiarities, it fell of its own weight. But I remembered it, and in many a spare hour have tried to see my

way through the nothoroughfare it presented. But quite in vain. Today, the road is as blind as ever, but "

here Sweetwater's face sharpened and his eyes burned as he leaned closer and closer to the older detective "

but this second case, so unlike the first in nonessentials but so exactly like it in just those points which make

the mystery, has dropped a thread from its tangled skein into my hand, which may yet lead us to the heart of

both. Can you guess have you guessed what this thread is? But how could you without the one clew I

have not given you? Mr. Gryce, the tenement where this occurred is the same I visited the other night in

search of Mr. Brotherson. And the man characterised at that time by the janitor as the best, the quietest and

most respectable tenant in the whole building, and the one you remember whose window opened directly

opposite the spot where this woman lay dead, was Mr. Dunn himself, or, in other words, our late redoubtable

"I Thought I should make you sit up. I really calculated upon doing so, sir. Yes, I have established the plain

fact that this Brotherson was near to, if not in the exact line of the scene of crime in each of these

extraordinary and baffling cases. A very odd coincidence, is it not?" was the dry conclusion of our eager

"Odd enough if you are correct in your statement. But I thought it was conceded that the man Brotherson was

not personally near, was not even in the building at the time of the woman's death in Hicks Street; that he

"And so the janitor thought, but he didn't quite know his man. I'm not sure that I do. But I mean to make his

acquaintance and make it thoroughly before I let him go. The hero well, I will say the possible hero of two

such adventures deserves some attention from one so interested in the abnormal as myself."

"Sweetwater, how came you to discover that Mr. Dunn of this ramshackle tenement in Hicks Street was

"Just this way. The night before Miss Challoner's death I was brooding very deeply over the Hicks Street

case. It had so possessed me that I had taken this street in on my way from Flatbush; as if staring at the house

and its swarming courtyard was going to settle any such question as that! I walked by the place and I looked

up at the windows. No inspiration. Then I sauntered back and entered the house with the fool intention of

crossing the courtyard and wandering into the rear building where the crime had occurred. But my attention

was diverted and my mind changed by seeing a man coming down the stairs before me, of so fine a figure

that I involuntarily stopped to look at him. Had he moved a little less carelessly, had he worn his workman's

clothes a little less naturally, I should have thought him some college bred man out on a slumming

expedition. But he was entirely too much at home where he was, and too unconscious of his jeans for any

such conclusion on my part, and when he had passed out I had enough curiosity to ask who he was.

"My interest, you may believe, was in no wise abated when I learned that he was that highly respectable

tenant whose window had been open at the time when half the inmates of the two buildings had rushed up to

his door, only to find a paper on it displaying these words: Gone to New York; will be back at 6:30. Had he

returned at that hour? I don't think anybody had ever asked; and what reason had I for such interference now?

But an idea once planted in my brain sticks tight, and I kept thinking of this man all the way to the Bridge.

Instinctively and quite against my will, I found myself connecting him with some previous remembrance in

which I seemed to see his tall form and strong features under the stress of some great excitement. But there

my memory stopped, till suddenly as I was entering the subway, it all came back to me. I had met him the

day I went with the boys to investigate the case in Hicks Street. He was coming down the staircase of the rear

tenement then, very much as I had just seen him coming down the one in front. Only the Dunn of today

seemed to have all his wits about him, while the huge fellow who brushed so rudely by me on that occasion

had the peculiar look of a man struggling with horror or some other grave agitation. This was not surprising,

of course, under the circumstances. I had met more than one man and woman in those halls who had worn the

same look; but none of them had put up a sign on his door that he had left for New York and would not be

back till 6 :30, and then changed his mind so suddenly that he was back in the tenement at three, sharing the

"But the discovery, while possibly suggestive, was not of so pressing a nature as to demand instant action;

and more immediate duties coming up, I let the matter slip from my mind, to be brought up again the next

day, you may well believe, when all the circumstances of the death at the Clermont came to light and I found

myself confronted by a problem very nearly the counterpart of the one then occupying me.

"But I did not see any real connection between the two cases, until, in my hunt for Mr. Brotherson, I came

upon the following facts: that he was not always the gentleman he appeared: that the apartment in which he

was supposed to live was not his own but a friend's; and that he was only there by spells. When he was there,

he dressed like a prince and it was while so clothed he ate his meals in the caf� of the Hotel Clermont.

"But there were times when he had been seen to leave this apartment in a very different garb, and while there

was no one to insinuate that he was slack in paying his debts or was given to dissipation or any overt vice, it

was generally conceded by such as casually knew him, that there was a mysterious side to his life which no

one understood. His friend a seemingly candid and openminded gentleman explained these

contradictions by saying that Mr. Brotherson was a humanitarian and spent much of his time in the slums.

That while so engaged he naturally dressed to suit the occasion, and if he was to be criticised at all, it was for

his zeal which often led him to extremes and kept him to his task for days, during which time none of his

uptown friends saw him. Then this enthusiastic gentleman called him the great intellectual light of the day,

and well, if ever I want a character I shall take pains to insinuate myself into the good graces of this Mr.

"Of Brotherson himself I saw nothing. He had come to Mr. Conway's apartment the night before the night

of Miss Challoner's death, you understand but had remained only long enough to change his clothes. Where

he went afterwards is unknown to Mr. Conway, nor can he tell us when to look for his return. When he does

show up, my message will be given him, etc., etc. I have no fault to find with Mr. Conway.

"But I had an idea in regard to this elusive Brotherson. I had heard enough about him to be mighty sure that

together with his other accomplishments he possessed the golden tongue and easy speech of an orator. Also,

that his tendencies were revolutionary and that for all his fine clothes and hankering after table luxuries and

the like, he cherished a spite against wealth which made his words under certain moods cut like a knife. But

there was another man, known to us of the Precinct, who had very nearly these same gifts, and this man

was going to speak at a secret meeting that very evening. This we had been told by a disgruntled member of

the Associated Brotherhood. Suspecting Brotherson, I had this prospective speaker described, and thought I

recognised my man. But I wanted to be positive in my identification, so I took Anderson with me, and but

I'll cut that short. We didn't see the orator and that 'go' went for nothing; but I had another string to my bow in

the shape of the workman Dunn who also answered to the description which had been given me; so I lugged

"It was late for the visit I proposed, but not too late, if Dunn was also the orator who, surprised by a raid I had

not been let into, would be making for his home, if only to establish an alibi. The subway was near, and I

calculated on his using it, but we took a taxicab and so arrived in Hicks Street some few minutes before him.

The result you know. Anderson recognised the man as the one whom he saw washing his hands in the snow

outside of the Clermont, and the man, seeing himself discovered, owned himself to be Brotherson and made

"You have heard how he bore himself; what his explanations were and how completely they fitted in with the

preconceived notions of the Inspector and the District Attorney. In consequence, Miss Challoner's death is

looked upon as a suicide the impulsive act of a woman who sees the man she may have scouted but whom

she secretly loves, turn away from her in all probability forever. A weapon was in her hand she impulsively

used it, and another deplorable suicide was added to the melancholy list. Had I put in my oar at the

conference held in the coroner's office; had I recalled to Dr. Heath the curious case of Mrs. Spotts, and then

identified Brotherson as the man whose window fronted hers from the opposite tenement, a diversion might

have been created and the outcome been different. But I feared the experiment. I'm not sufficiently in with the

Chief as yet, nor yet with the Inspector. They might not have called me a fool you may; but that's different

and they might have listened, but it would doubtless have been with an air I could not have held up against,

with that fellow's eyes fixed mockingly on mine. For he and I are pitted for a struggle, and I do not want to

give him the advantage of even a momentary triumph. He's the most complete master of himself of any man I

ever met, and it will take the united brain and resolution of the whole force to bring him to book if he ever

"That you have given me an antidote against old age," was the ringing and unexpected reply, as the

thoughtful, halfpuzzled aspect of the old man yielded impulsively to a burst of his early enthusiasm. "If we

can get a good grip on the thread you speak of, and can work ourselves along by it, though it be by no more

than an inch at a time, we shall yet make our way through this labyrinth of undoubted crime and earn for

ourselves a triumph which will make some of these raw and inexperienced young fellows about us stare.

Sweetwater, coincidences are possible. We run upon them every day. But coincidence in crime! that should

make work for a detective, and we are not afraid of work. There's my hand for my end of the business."

Next minute the two heads were closer than ever together, and the business had begun.

"Our first difficulty is this. We must prove motive. Now, I do not think it will be so very hard to show that

this Brotherson cherished feelings of revenge towards Miss Challoner. But I have to acknowledge right here

and now that the most skillful and vigourous pumping of the janitor and such other tenants of the Hicks Street

tenement as I have dared to approach, fails to show that he has ever held any communication with Mrs.

Spotts, or even knew of her existence until her remarkable death attracted his attention. I have spent all the

afternoon over this, and with no result. A complete break in the chain at the very start."

"The next, and this is a bitter pill too, is the almost insurmountable difficulty already recognised of

determining how a man, without approaching his victim, could manage to inflict a mortal stab in her breast.

No cloak of complete invisibility has yet been found, even by the cleverest criminals."

"True. The problem is such as a nightmare offers. For years my dreams have been haunted by a gnome who

"But there's an answer to everything, and I'm sure there's an answer to this. Remember his business. He's an

inventor, with startling ideas. So much I've seen for myself. You may stretch probabilities a little in his case;

and with this conceded, we may add by way of offset to the difficulties you mention, coincidences of time

and circumstance, and his villainous heart. Oh, I know that I am prejudiced; but wait and see! Miss Challoner

"She loved him. Even her father believes that now. Some lately discovered letters have come to light to prove

that she was by no means so heart free as he supposed. One of her friends, it seems, has also confided to him

that once, while she and Miss Challoner were sitting together, she caught Miss Challoner in the act of

scribbling capitals over a sheet of paper. They were all B's with the exception of here and there a neatly

turned 0, and when her friend twitted her with her fondness for these two letters, and suggested a pleasing

monogram, Miss Challoner answered, '0. B. (transferring the letters, as you see) are the initials of the finest

"He is greatly distressed at having the disgraceful suggestion of suicide attached to his daughter's name.

Notwithstanding the circumstances, not withstanding his full recognition of her secret predilection for a

man of whom he had never heard till the night of her death, he cannot believe that she struck the blow she

did, intentionally. He sent for me in order to inquire if anything could be done to reinstate her in public

opinion. He dared not insist that another had wielded the weapon which laid her low so suddenly, but he

asked if, in my experience, it had never been known that a woman, hypersensitive to some strong man's

magnetic influence, should so follow his thought as to commit an act which never could have arisen in her

"And what what did you say?" asked Sweetwater, with a halting utterance and his face

"I simply quoted the latest authority on hypnotism that no person even in hypnotic sleep could be influenced

"Latest authority. That doesn't mean a final one. Supposing that it was hypnotism! But that wouldn't account

"There was no weapon found in the room, or in the court. The snow was searched and the children too. No

weapon, Mr. Gryce, not even a papercutter. Besides but how did Mr. Challoner take what you said? Was

"He had to be. I didn't dare to hold out any hope based on so unsubstantial a theory. But the interview had

this effect upon me. If the possibility remains of fixing guilt elsewhere than on Miss Challoner's inconsiderate

impulse, I am ready to devote any amount of time and strength to the work. To see this grieving father

relieved from the worst part of his burden is worth some effort and now you know why I have listened so

eagerly to you. Sweetwater, I will go with you to the Superintendent. We may not gain his attention and again

we may. If we don t but we won't cross that bridge prematurely. When will you be ready for this business?"

"Good, then let it be tomorrow. A taxicab, Sweetwater. The subway for the young. I can no longer manage

"But that is all there is to it," he easily proceeded. "I knew Miss Challoner and I have already said how much

and how little I had to do with her death. The other woman I did not know at all; I did not even know her

name. A prosecution based on grounds so flimsy as those you advance would savour of persecution, would it

The Inspector, surprised by this unexpected attack, regarded the speaker with an interest rather augmented

than diminished by his boldness. The smile with which he had uttered these concluding words yet lingered on

his lips, lighting up features of a mould too suggestive of command to be associated readily with guilt. That

the impression thus produced was favourable, was evident from the tone of the Inspector's reply:

"We have said nothing about prosecution, Mr. Brotherson. We hope to avoid any such extreme measures, and

that we may the more readily do so, we have given you this opportunity to make such explanations as the

situation, which you yourself have characterised as remarkable, seems to call for."

"I am ready. But what am I called upon to explain? I really cannot see, sir. Knowing nothing more about

either case than you do, I fear that I shall not add much to your enlightenment."

"You can tell us why with your seeming culture and obvious means, you choose to spend so much time in a

"Have you seen my room there? It is piled to the ceiling with books. When I was a poor man, I chose the

abode suited to my purse and my passion for firstrate reading. As I grew better off, my time became daily

more valuable. I have never seen the hour when I felt like moving that precious collection. Besides, I am a

man of the people. I like the working class, and am willing to be thought one of them. I can find time to talk

to a hardpushed mechanic as easily as to such members of the moneyed class as I encounter on stray

evenings at the Hotel Clermont I have led I may say that I am leading a double life; but of neither am I

ashamed, nor have I cause to be. Love drove me to ape the gentleman in the halls of the Clermont; a broad

human interest in the work of the world, to live as a fellow among the mechanics of Hicks Street."

"But why make use of one name as a gentleman of leisure and quite a different one as the honest workman?"

"Ah, there you touch upon my real secret. I have a reason for keeping my identity quiet till my invention is

"Possibly." But the word was uttered in a way to carry little conviction. "I am not much of an anarchist," he

now took the trouble to declare, with a careless lift of his shoulders. " I like fair play, but I shall never give

you much trouble by my manner of insuring it. I have too much at stake. My invention is dearer to me than

the overthrow of present institutions. Nothing must stand in the way of its success, not even the satisfaction

of inspiring terror in minds shut to every other species of argument. I have uttered my last speech; you can

"We are glad to hear it, Mr. Dunn. Physical overthrow carries more than the immediate sufferer with it."

If this were meant as an irritant, it did not act successfully. The social agitator, the political demagogue, the

orator whose honeyed tones had rung with biting invective in the ears of the United Brotherhood of the Awl,

"We have no wish," continued the Inspector, "to probe too closely into concerns seemingly quite removed

from the main issue. You say that you are ready, nay more, are even eager to answer all questions. You will

probably be anxious then to explain away a discrepancy between your word and your conduct, which has

come to our attention. You were known to have expressed the intention of spending the afternoon of Mrs.

Spotts' death in New York and were supposed to have done so, yet you were certainly seen in the crowd

which invaded that rear building at the first alarm. Are you conscious of possessing a double, or did you fail

"I am glad this has come up." The tone was one of selfcongratulation which would have shaken Sweetwater

sorely had he been admitted to this unofficial examination. "I have never confided to any one the story of my

doings on that unhappy afternoon, because I knew of no one who would take any interest in them. But this is

what occurred. I did mean to go to New York and I even started on my walk to the Bridge at the hour

mentioned. But I got into a small crowd on the corner of Fulton Street, in which a poor devil who had robbed

a vendor's cart of a few oranges, was being hustled about. There was no policeman within sight, and so I

busied myself there for a minute paying for the oranges and dragging the poor wretch away into an alley,

where I could have the pleasure of seeing him eat them. When I came out of the alley the small crowd had

vanished, but a big one was collecting up the street very near my home. I always think of my books when I

see anything suggesting fire, and naturally I returned, and equally naturally, when I heard what had happened,

followed the crowd into the court and so up to the poor woman's doorway. But my curiosity satisfied, I

"Not at all. I went shopping. I wanted a certain very fine wire, for an experiment I had on hand, and I found it

in a little shop in Fourth Avenue. If I remember rightly, the name over the door was Grippus. Its oddity struck

There was nothing left to the Inspector but to dismiss him. He had answered all questions willingly, and with

a countenance inexpressive of guile. He even indulged in a parting shot on his own account, as full of frank

acceptance of the situation as it was fearless in its attack. As he halted in the doorway before turning his back

"I have ceased visiting my friend's apartment in upper New York. If you ever want me again, you will find

me amongst my books. If my invention halts and other interests stale, you have furnished me this day with a

problem which cannot fail to give continual occupation to my energies. If I succeed in solving it first, I shall

be happy to share my knowledge with you. Till then, trust the laws of nature. No man when once on the

outside of a door can button it on the inside, nor could any one without the gift of complete invisibility, make

a leap of over fifteen feet from the sill of a fourth story window on to an adjacent fire escape, without

He was halfway out the door, but his name quickly spoken by the Inspector drew him back.

"You are a man of considerable analytic power, as I take it, Mr. Brotherson. You must have decided long ago

"Then I will allow myself to say that there is but one commonsense view to take of the matter. Miss

Challoner's death was due to suicide; so was that of the washerwoman. But there I stop. As for the means

the motive such mysteries may be within your province but they are totally outside mine! God help us all!

The air seemed to have lost its vitality and the sun its sparkle when he was gone.

"This: that I'm up against the hardest proposition of my lifetime. Nothing in the man's appearance or manner

evinces guilt, yet I believe him guilty. I must. Not to, is to strain probability to the point of breakage. But how

to reach him is a problem and one of no ordinary nature. Years ago, when I was but little older than

Sweetwater, I had just such a conviction concerning a certain man against whom I had even less to work on

than we have here. A murder had been committed by an envenomed spring contained in a toy puzzle. I

worked upon the conscience of the suspect in that case, by bringing constantly before his eyes a facsimile of

that spring. It met him in the folded napkin which he opened at his restaurant dinner. He stumbled upon it in

the street, and found it lying amongst his papers at home. I gave him no relief and finally he succumbed. He

had been almost driven mad by remorse. But this man has no conscience. If he is not innocent as the day, he's

as hard as unquarried marble. He might be confronted with reminders of his crime at every turn without

weakening or showing by loss of appetite or interrupted sleep any effect upon his nerves. That's my opinion

of the gentleman. He is either that, or a man of uncommon force and selfrestraint."

"Yes, in a day, or in a week, possibly in a month. But persistence and a protean adaptability to meet his

moods might accomplish something. I don't say will, I only say might. If Sweetwater had the job, with

unlimited time in which to carry out any plan he may have, or even for a change of plans to suit a changed

"Mr. Challoner will see to that. I have his word that no reasonable amount will daunt him."

"But this Brotherson is suspicious. He has an inventor's secret to hide, if none other. We can't saddle him with

"Not readily, I own. But time will bring counsel. Are you willing to help the boy, to help me and possibly

yourself by this venture in the dark? The Department shan't lose money by it; that's all I can promise."

"But it's a big one. Gryce, you shall have your way. You'll be the only loser if you fail; and you will fail; take

"I wish I could speak as confidently to the contrary, but I can't. I can give you my hand though, Inspector, and

Sweetwater's thanks. I can meet the boy now. An hour ago I didn't know how I was to do it."

"I'm afraid so. He cannot help remembering the man who faced him in his own room."

"Damned unfortunate; but one must expect some sort of a handicap in a game like this. Before I'm done with

him, he'll look me full in the face and wonder if he's ever seen me before. I wasn't always a detective. I was a

carpenter once, as you know, and I'll take to the tools again. As soon as I'm handy with them I'll hunt up

lodgings in Hicks Street. He may suspect me at first, but be won't long; I'll be such a confounded good

workman. I only wish I hadn't such pronounced features. They've stood awfully in my way, Mr. Gryce. I

don't like to talk about my appearance, but I'm so confounded plain that people remember me. Why couldn't I

have had one of those putty faces which don't mean anything? It would have been a deuced sight more

"But I want to do better. I want to deceive him to his face. He's clever, this same Brotherson, and there's glory

to be got in making a fool of him. Do you think it could be done with a beard? I've never worn a beard. While

"And silky and straggling. Charming addition to my beauty. But it'll take half an inch off my nose, and it'll

cover my mouth, which means a lot in my case. Then my complexion! It must be changed naturally. I'll

consult a doctor about that. No sort of makebelieve will go with this man. If my eyes look weak, they must

really be so. If I walk slowly and speak huskily, it must be because I cannot help it. I can bear the slight

inconvenience of temporary illhealth in a cause like this; and if necessary the cough will be real, and the

"Sweetwater! We'd better give the task to another man to someone Brotherson has never seen and won't be

"He'll be suspicious of everybody who tries to make friends with him now; only a little more so with me;

that's all. But I've got to meet that, and I'll do it by being, temporarily, of course, exactly the man I seem. My

health will not be good for the next few weeks, I'm sure of that. But I'll be a model workman, neat and

conscientious with just a suspicion of dash where dash is needed. He knows the real thing when he sees it,

and there's not a fellow living more alive to shams. I won't be a sham. I'll be it. You'll see."

"No; I must have confidence in the end, and I must believe in his guilt. Nothing else will carry me through. I

"And I do. I never was surer of anything than I am of that. But I'll have the deuce of a time to get evidence

enough for a grand jury. That's plainly to be seen, and that's why I'm so dead set on the business. It's such an

"I don't call it even. He's got the start of you every way. You can't go to his tenement; the janitor there would

"Now I will give you a piece of good news. They're to have a new janitor next week. I learned that yesterday.

The present one is too easy. He'll be out long before I'm ready to show myself there; and so will the woman

who took care of the poor washerwoman's little child. I'd not have risked her curiosity. Luck isn't all against

"Not very confident; but willing to give you any amount of rope. Sweetwater, he let me have a batch of letters

written by his daughter which he found in a secret drawer. They are not to be read, or even opened, unless a

great necessity arises. They were written for Brotherson's eye or so the father says but she never sent

them; too exuberant perhaps. If you ever want them I cannot give them to you tonight, and wouldn't if I

could, don't go to Mr. Challoner you must never be seen at his hotel and don't come to me, but to the little

house in West Twentyninth Street, where they will be kept for you, tied up in a package with your name on

"Good! I'll remember. You can always write or even telephone to Twentyninth Street. I'm in constant

"Yes, but not the Inspector. He sees nothing but the victim of a strange coincidence in Orlando Brotherson."

"Again the scales hang even. But they won't remain so. One side is bound to rise. Which? That's the question,

There was a new tenant in the Hicks Street tenement. He arrived late one afternoon and was shown two

rooms, one in the rear building and another in the front one. Both were on the fourth floor. He demurred at

the former, thought it gloomy but finally consented to try it. The other, he said, was too expensive. The

janitor new to the business was not much taken with him and showed it, which seemed to offend the

However, they came to terms as I have said, and the man went away, promising to send in his belongings the

next day. He smiled as he said this and the janitor who had rarely seen such a change take place in a human

face, looked uncomfortable for a moment and seemed disposed to make some remark about the room they

were leaving. But, thinking better of it, locked the door and led the way downstairs. As the prospective tenant

followed, he may have noticed, probably did, that the door they had just left was a new one the only new

The next night that door was locked on the inside. The young man had taken possession. As he put away the

remnants of a meal he had cooked for himself, he cast a look at his surroundings, and imperceptibly sighed.

Then he brightened again, and sitting down on his solitary chair, he turned his eyes on the window which,

uncurtained and without shade, stared openmouthed, as it were, at the opposite wall rising high across the

In that wall, one window only seemed to interest him and that was on a level with his own. The shade of this

window was up, but there was no light back of it and so nothing of the interior could be seen. But his eye

remained fixed upon it, while his hand, stretched out towards the lamp burning near him, held itself in

Did he see only the opposite wall and that unillumined window? Was there no memory of the time when, in a

previous contemplation of those dismal panes, he beheld stretching between them and himself, a long, low

bench with a plain wooden tub upon it, from which a dripping cloth beat out upon the boards beneath a

One might judge that such memories were indeed his, from the rapid glance he cast behind him at the place

But if he saw, and if he heard these suggestions from the past, he was not less alive to the exactions of the

present, for, as his glance flew back across the court, his finger suddenly moved and the flame it controlled

sputtered and went out. At the same instant, the window opposite sprang into view as the lamp was lit within,

and for several minutes the whole interior remained visible the books, the worktable, the cluttered furniture,

and, most interesting of all, its owner and occupant. It was upon the latter that the newcomer fixed his

attention, and with an absorption equal to that he saw expressed in the countenance opposite.

But his was the absorption of watchfulness; that of the other of introspection. Mr. Brotherson (we will no

longer call him Dunn even here where he is known by no other name) had entered the room clad in his

heavy overcoat and, not having taken it off before lighting his lamp, still stood with it on, gazing eagerly

down at the model occupying the place of honour on the large centre table. He was not touching it, not at

this moment but that his thoughts were with it, that his whole mind was concentrated on it, was evident to

the watcher across the court; and, as this watcher took in this fact and noticed the loving care with which the

enthusiastic inventor finally put out his finger to rearrange a thread or twirl a wheel, his disappointment

found utterance in a sigh which echoed sadly through the dull and cheerless room. Had he expected this stern

and selfcontained man to show an open indifference to work and the hopes of a lifetime? If so, this was the

He was gifted, however, with the patience of an automaton and continued to watch his fellow tenant as long

as the latter's shade remained up. When it fell, he rose and took a few steps up and down, but not with the

celerity and precision which usually accompanied his movements. Doubt disturbed his mind and impeded his

activity. He had caught a fair glimpse of Brotherson's face as he approached the window, and though it

continued to show abstraction, it equally displayed serenity and a complete satisfaction with the present if not

with the future. Had he mistaken his man after all? Was his instinct, for the first time in his active career,

He had succeeded in getting a glimpse of his quarry in the privacy of his own room, at home with his

thoughts and unconscious of any espionage, and how had he found him? Cheerful, and natural in all his

But the evening was young. Retrospect comes with later and more lonely hours. There will be opportunities

yet for studying this impassive countenance under much more telling and productive circumstances than

these. He would await these opportunities with cheerful anticipation. Meanwhile, he would keep up the

routine watch he had planned for this night. Something might yet occur. At all events he would have

And so it came to pass that at an hour when all the other hardworking people in the building were asleep, or

at least striving to sleep, these two men still sat at their work, one in the light, the other in the darkness, facing

each other, consciously to the one, unconsciously to the other, across the hollow well of the now silent court.

Eleven o'clock! Twelve! No change on Brotherson's part or in Brotherson's room; but a decided one in the

place where Sweetwater sat. Objects which had been totally indistinguishable even to his penetrating eye

could now be seen in ever brightening outline. The moon had reached the open space above the court, and he

was getting the full benefit of it. But it was a benefit he would have been glad to dispense with. Darkness was

like a shield to him. He did not feel quite sure that he wanted this shield removed. With no curtain to the

window and no shade, and all this brilliance pouring into the room, he feared the disclosure of his presence

there, or, if not that, some effect on his own mind of those memories he was more anxious to see mirrored in

Was it to escape any lack of concentration which these same memories might bring, that he rose and stepped

to the window? Or was it under one of those involuntary impulses which move us in spite of ourselves to do

No sooner had he approached the sill than Mr. Brotherson's shade flew way up and he, too, looked out. Their

glances met, and for an instant the hardy detective experienced that involuntary stagnation of the blood which

follows an inner shock. He felt that he had been recognised. The moonlight lay full upon his face, and the

other had seen and known him. Else, why the constrained attitude and sudden rigidity observable in this

confronting figure, with its partially lifted hand? A man like Brotherson makes no pause in any action

however trivial, without a reason. Either he had been transfixed by this glimpse of his enemy on watch, or

daring thought! had seen enough of sepulchral suggestion in the wan face looking forth from this fatal

window to shake him from his composure and let loose the grinning devil of remorse from its iron

prisonhouse? If so, the movement was a memorable one, and the hazard quite worth while. He had gained

no! he had gained nothing. He had been the fool of his own wishes. No one, let alone Brotherson, could have

mistaken his face for that of a woman. He had forgotten his newlygrown beard. Some other cause must be

found for the other's attitude. It savoured of shock, if not fear. If it were fear, then had he roused an emotion

which might rebound upon himself in sharp reprisal. Death had been known to strike people standing where

he stood; mysterious death of a species quite unrecognisable. What warranty had he that it would not strike

Yet it was Brotherson who moved first. With a shrug of the shoulder plainly visible to the man opposite, he

turned away from the window and without lowering the shade began gathering up his papers for the night,

Sweetwater, with a breath of decided relief, stepped back and threw himself on the bed. It had really been a

trial for him to stand there under the other's eye, though his mind refused to formulate his fear, or to give him

any satisfaction when he asked himself what there was in the situation suggestive of death to the woman or

Nor did morning light bring counsel, as is usual in similar cases. He felt the mystery more in the hubbub and

restless turmoil of the day than in the night's silence and inactivity. He was glad when the stroke of six gave

him an excuse to leave the room, and gladder yet when in doing so, he ran upon an old woman from a

neighbouring room, who no sooner saw him than she leered at him and eagerly remarked:

"See anything?" he repeated, apparently with all imaginable innocence. "What do you mean by that?"

"Don't tell me! "he shouted out. "I don't want to hear any nonsense. I haven't time. I've got to be at the shop at

seven and I don't feel very well. What did happen?" he mumbled in drawing off, just loud enough for the

At half past six he found the janitor. He was, to all appearance, in a state of great excitement and he spoke

"I won't stay another night in that room," he loudly declared, breaking in where the family were eating

breakfast by lamplight. "I don't want to make any trouble and I don't want to give my reasons; but that room

don't suit me. I'd rather take the dark one you talked about yesterday. There's the money. Have my things

"But your moving out after one night's stay will give that room a bad name," stammered the janitor, rising

"Nonsense! Every man hasn't the nerves I have. You'll let it in a week. But let or not let, I'm going front into

the little dark room. I'll get the boss to let me off at half past four. So that's settled."

He waited for no reply and got none; but when he appeared promptly at a quarter to five, he found his few

belongings moved into a middle room on the fourth floor of the front building, which, oddly perhaps,

The first page of his adventure in the Hicks Street tenement had been turned, and he was ready to start upon

When Mr. Brotherson came in that night, he noticed that the door of the room adjoining his own stood open.

He did not hesitate. Making immediately for it, he took a glance inside, then spoke up with a ringing

The occupant a young man, evidently a workman and somewhat sickly if one could judge from his

complexion turned around from some tinkering he was engaged in and met the intruder fairly, face to face.

If his jaw fell, it seemed to be from admiration. No other emotion would have so lighted his eye as he took in

the others proportions and commanding features. No dress Brotherson was never seen in any other than the

homeliest garb in these days could make him look common or akin to his surroundings. Whether seen near or

far, his presence always caused surprise, and surprise was what the young man showed, as he answered

Never was there a more penetrating eye than Orlando Brotherson's. As he asked this question it took some

effort on the part of the other to hold his own and laugh with perfect naturalness as he replied:

"If you ever go up Henry Street it's likely enough that you've seen me not once, but many times. I'm the

fellow who works at the bench next the window in Schuper's repairing shop. Everybody knows me."

Audacity often carries the day when subtler means would fail. Brotherson stared at the youth, then ventured

"Yes, and I'm an A1 man at my job. Excuse my brag. It's my one card of introduction."

"I've seen you. I've seen you somewhere else than in Schuper's shop. Do you remember me?"

"No, sir; I'm sorry to be imperlite but I don't remember you at all. Won't you sit down? It's not very cheerful,

but I'm so glad to get out of the room I was in last night that this looks all right to me. Back there, other

building," he whispered. "I didn't know, and took the room which had a window in it; but " The stop was

significant; so was his smile which had a touch of sickliness in it, as well as humour.

"I saw you," said he. "You were standing in the window overlooking the court. You were not sleeping then. I

"Sure!" The word almost jumped at the questioner. "Do you suppose I'd have taken the room if "

But here the intruder, with a disdainful grunt, turned and went out, disgust in every feature, plain,

This was what gave Sweetwater his second bad night; this and a certain discovery he made. He had counted

on hearing what went on in the neighbouring room through the partition running back of his own closet. But

he could hear nothing, unless it was the shutting down of a window, a loud sneeze, or the rattling of coals as

they were put on the fire. And these possessed no significance. What he wanted was to catch the secret sigh,

the muttered word, the involuntary movement. He was too far removed from this man still.

How should he manage to get nearer him at the door of his mind of his heart? Sweetwater stared all night

from his miserable cot into the darkness of that separating closet, and with no result. His task looked

Next morning he felt ill, but he rose all the same, and tried to get his own breakfast. He had but partially

succeeded and was sitting on the edge of his bed in wretched discomfort, when the very man he was thinking

"I've come to see how you are," said Brotherson. "I noticed that you did not look well last night. Won't you

"I I can't eat," mumbled Sweetwater, for once in his life thrown completely off his balance. "You're very

kind, but I'll manage all right. I'd rather. I'm not quite dressed, you see, and I must get to the shop." Then he

thought "What an opportunity I'm losing. Have I any right to turn tail because he plays his game from the

outset with trumps? No, I've a small trump somewhere about me to lay on this trick. It isn't an ace, but it'll

show I'm not chicane." And smiling, though not with his usual cheerfulness, Sweetwater added, "Is the coffee

all made? I might take a drop of that. But you mustn't ask me to eat I just couldn't."

"Yes, the coffee is made and it isn't bad either. You'd better put on your coat; the hall's draughty." And

waiting till Sweetwater did so, he led the way back to his own room. Brotherson's manner expressed perfect

ease, Sweetwater's not. He knew himself changed in looks, in bearing, in feeling, even; but was he changed

enough to deceive this man on the very spot where they had confronted each other a few days before in a

keen moral struggle? The lookingglass he passed on his way to the table where the simple breakfast was

spread out, showed him a figure so unlike the alert, businesslike chap he had been that night, that he felt his

old assurance revive in time to ease a situation which had no counterpart in his experience.

"I'm going out myself today, so we'll have to hurry a bit," was Brotherson's first remark as they seated

"Plain. Gosh! what pictures! Where do you get 'em? You must have a lot of coin." Sweetwater was staring at

the row of photographs, mostly of a very high order, tacked along the wall separating the two rooms. They

were unframed, but they were mostly copies of great pictures, and the effect was rather imposing in contrast

"Yes, I've enough for that kind of thing," was his host's reply. But the tone was reserved, and Sweetwater did

not presume again along this line. Instead, he looked well at the books piled upon the shelves under these

photographs, and wondered aloud at their number and at the man who could waste such a lot of time in

reading them. But he made no more direct remarks. Was he cowed by the penetrating eye he encountered

whenever he yielded to the fascination exerted by Mr. Brotherson's personality and looked his way? He hated

to think so, yet something held him in check and made him listen, openmouthed, when the other chose to

Yet there was one cheerful moment. It was when he noticed the careless way in which those books were

arranged upon their shelves. An idea had come to him. He hid his relief in his cup, as he drained the last

When he returned from work that afternoon it was with an auger under his coat and a conviction which led

him to empty out the contents of a small phial which he took down from a shelf. He had told Mr. Gryce that

he was eager for the business because of its difficulties, but that was when he was feeling fine and up to any

game which might come his way. Now he felt weak and easily discouraged. This would not do. He must

regain his health at all hazards, so he poured out the mixture which had given him such a sickly air. This done

and a rude supper eaten, he took up his auger. He had heard Mr. Brotherson's step go by. But next minute he

laid it down again in great haste and flung a newspaper over it. Mr. Brotherson was coming back, had

"You're better this evening," he heard in those kindly tones which so confused and irritated him.

"Yes," was the surly admission. "But it's stifling here. If I have to live long in this hole I'll dry up from want

of air. It's near the shop or I wouldn't stay out the week." Twice this day he had seen Brotherson's tall figure

stop before the window of this shop and look in at him at his bench. But he said nothing about that.

"Yes," agreed the other, "it's no way to live. But you're alone. Upstairs there's a whole family huddled into a

room just like this. Two of the kids sleep in the closet. It's things like that which have made me the friend of

the poor, and the mortal enemy of men and women who spread themselves over a dozen big rooms and think

themselves illused if the gas burns poorly or a fireplace smokes. I'm off for the evening; anything I can do

"Show me how I can win my way into such rooms as you've just talked about. Nothing less will make me

look up. I'd like to sleep in one tonight. In the best bedroom, sir. I'm ambitious; I am."

A poor joke, though they both laughed. There Mr. Brotherson passed on, and Sweetwater listened till he was

sure that his too attentive neighbour had really gone down the three flights between him and the street. Then

There was nothing peculiar about this closet. It was just an ordinary one with drawers and shelves on one

side, and an open space on the other for the hanging up of clothes. Very few clothes hung there at present; but

it was in this portion of the closet that he stopped and began to try the wall of Brotherson's room, with the

The sound seemed to satisfy him, for very soon he was boring a hole at a point exactly level with his ear; but

not without frequent pauses and much attention given to the possible return of those departed footsteps. He

remembered that Mr. Brotherson had a way of coming back on unexpected errands after giving out his

Sweetwater did not want to be caught in any such trap as that; so he carefully followed every sound that

reached him from the noisy halls. But he did not forsake his post; he did not have to. Mr. Brotherson had

been sincere in his goodbye, and the auger finished its job and was withdrawn without any interruption from

"Neat as well as useful," was the gay comment with which Sweetwater surveyed his work, then laid his ear to

the hole. Whereas previously he could barely hear the rattling of coals from the coalscuttle, he was now able

His next move was to test the depth of the partition by inserting his finger in the hole he had made. He found

it stopped by some obstacle before it had reached half its length, and anxious to satisfy himself of the nature

of this obstacle, he gently moved the tip of his finger to and fro over what was certainly the edge of a book.

This proved that his calculations had been correct and that the opening so accessible on his side, was

completely veiled on the other by the books he had seen packed on the shelves. As these shelves had no other

backing than the wall, he had feared striking a spot not covered by a book. But he had not undertaken so risky

a piece of work without first noting how nearly the tops of the books approached the line of the shelf above

them, and the consequent unlikelihood of his striking the space between, at the height he planned the hole. He

had even been careful to assure himself that all the volumes at this exact point stood far enough forward to

afford room behind them for the chips and plaster he must necessarily push through with his auger, and also

important consideration for the free passage of the sounds by which he hoped to profit.

As he listened for a moment longer, and then stooped to gather up the debris which had fallen on his own side

"If the devil don't interfere in some way best known to himself, this opportunity I have made for myself of

listening to this arrogant fellow's very heartbeats should give me some clew to his secret. As soon as I can

But it was days before he could trust himself so far. Meanwhile their acquaintance ripened, though with no

very satisfactory results. The detective found himself led into telling stories of his early homelife to keep

pace with the man who always had something of moment and solid interest to impart. This was undesirable,

for instead of calling out a corresponding confidence from Brotherson, it only seemed to make his

In consequence, Sweetwater suddenly found himself quite well and one evening, when he was sure that his

neighbour was at home, he slid softly into his closet and laid his ear to the opening he had made there. The

result was unexpected. Mr. Brotherson was pacing the floor, and talking softly to himself.

At first, the cadence and full music of the tones conveyed nothing to our far from literary detective. The

victim of his secret machinations was expressing himself in words, words; that was the point which counted

with him. But as he listened longer and gradually took in the sense of these words, his heart went down lower

and lower till it reached his boots. His inscrutable and ever disappointing neighbour was not indulging in

selfcommunings of any kind. He was reciting poetry, and what was worse, poetry which he only half

remembered and was trying to recall; an incredible occupation for a man weighted with a criminal secret.

Sweetwater was disgusted, and was withdrawing in high indignation from his vantagepoint when something

occurred of a startling enough nature to hold him where he was in almost breathless expectation.

The hole which in the darkness of the closet was always faintly visible, even when the light was not very

strong in the adjoining room, had suddenly become a bright and shining loophole, with a suggestion of

movement in the space beyond. The book which had hid this hole on Brotherson's side had been taken down

the one book in all those hundreds whose removal threatened Sweetwater's schemes, if not himself.

For an instant the thwarted detective listened for the angry shout or the smothered oath which would naturally

follow the discovery by Brotherson of this attempted interference with his privacy.

But all was still on his side of the wall. A rustling of leaves could be heard, as the inventor searched for the

poem he wanted, but nothing more. In withdrawing the book, he had failed to notice the hole in the plaster

back of it. But he could hardly fail to see it when he came to put the book back. Meantime, suspense for

It was several minutes before he heard Mr. Brotherson' s voice again, then it was in triumphant repetition of

the lines which had escaped his memory. They were great words surely and Sweetwater never forgot them,

but the impression which they made upon his mind, an impression so forcible that he was able to repeat them,

months afterward to Mr. Gryce, did not prevent him from noting the tone in which they were uttered, nor the

"Fool!" The word rang out in bitter irony from his irate neighbour's lips. "What does he know of woman!

Woman! Let him court a rich one and see but that's all over and done with. No more harping on that string,

and no more reading of poetry. I'll never, " The rest was lost in his throat and was quite unintelligible to the

Selfrevealing words, which an instant before would have aroused Sweetwater's deepest interest! But they

had suddenly lost all force for the unhappy listener. The sight of that hole still shining brightly before his eyes

had distracted his thoughts and roused his liveliest apprehensions. If that book should be allowed to lie where

it had fallen, then he was in for a period of uncertainty he shrank from contemplating. Any moment his

neighbour might look up and catch sight of this hole bored in the backing of the shelves before him. Could

the man who had been guilty of submitting him to this outrage stand the strain of waiting indefinitely for the

Shifting his position, he placed his eye where his ear had been. He could see very little. The space before

him, limited as it was to the width of the one volume withdrawn, precluded his seeing aught but what lay

directly before him. Happily, it was in this narrow line of vision that Mr. Brotherson stood. He had resumed

work upon his model and was so placed that while his face was not visible, his hands were, and as

Sweetwater watched these hands and noticed the delicacy of their manipulation, he was enough of a workman

to realise that work so fine called for an undivided attention. He need not fear the gaze shifting, while those

Relieved for the moment, he left his post and, sitting down on the edge of his cot, gave himself up to thought.

He deserved this mischance. Had he profited properly by Mr. Gryce's teachings, he would not have been

caught like this; he would have calculated not upon the nine hundred and ninetynine chances of that book

being left alone, but upon the thousandth one of its being the very one to be singled out and removed. Had he

done this, had he taken pains to so roughen and discolour the opening he had made, that it would look like

an ancient rat hole instead of showing a clean bore, he would have some answer to give Brotherson when he

came to question him in regard to it. But now the whole thing seemed up! He had shown himself a fool and

by good rights ought to acknowledge his defeat and return to Headquarters. But he had too much spirit for

that. He would rather yes, he would rather face the pistol he had once seen in his enemy's hand. Yet it was

hard to sit here waiting, waiting Suddenly he started upright. He would go meet his fate be present in the

room itself when the discovery was made which threatened to upset all his plans. He was not ashamed of his

calling, and Brotherson would think twice before attacking him when once convinced that he had the

"Excuse me, comrade," were the words with which he endeavoured to account for his presence at

Brotherson's door. "My lamp smells so, and I've made such a mess of my work today that I've just stepped

in for a chat. If I'm not wanted, say so. I don't want to bother you, but you do look pleasant here. I hope the

thing I'm turning over in my head every man has his schemes for making a fortune, you know will be a

success some day. I'd like a big room like this, and a lot of books, and and pictures."

Craning his neck, he took a peep at the shelves, with an air of open admiration which effectually concealed

his real purpose. What he wanted was to catch one glimpse of that empty space from his present standpoint,

and he was both astonished and relieved to note how narrow and inconspicuous it looked. Certainly, he had

less to fear than he supposed, and when, upon Mr. Brotherson's invitation, he stepped into the room, it was

with a dash of his former audacity, which gave him, unfortunately, perhaps, a quick, strong and unexpected

But if Brotherson noticed this, nothing in his manner gave proof of the fact. Though usually averse to

visitors, especially when employed as at present on his precious model, he quite warmed towards his

unexpected guest, and even led the way to where it stood uncovered on the table.

"You find me at work," he remarked. "I don't suppose you understand any but your own?"

"If you mean to ask if I understand what you're trying to do there, I'm free to say that I don't. I couldn't tell

now, offhand, whether it's an airship you're planning, a hydraulic machine or or He stopped, with a

laugh and turned towards the bookshelves. "Now here's what I like. These books just take my eye.

"Look at them, then. I like to see a man interested in books. Only, I thought if you knew how to handle wire, I

"I guess I know enough for that," was Sweetwater's gay rejoinder. But when he felt that communicating wire

in his hand and experienced for the first time the full influence of the other's eye, it took all his hardihood to

hide the hypnotic thrill it gave him. Though he smiled and chatted, he could not help asking himself between

whiles, what had killed the poor washerwoman across the court, and what had killed Miss Challoner.

Something visible or something invisible? Something which gave warning of attack, or something which

struck in silence. He found himself gazing long and earnestly at this man's hand, and wondering if death lay

under it. It was a strong hand, a deft, cleancut member, formed to respond to the slightest hint from the

powerful brain controlling it. But was this its whole story. Had he said all when he had said this?

Fascinated by the question, Sweetwater died a hundred deaths in his awakened fancy, as he followed the

sharp short instructions which fell with cool precision from the other's lips. A hundred deaths, I say, but with

no betrayal of his folly. The anxiety he showed was that of one eager to please, which may explain why on

the conclusion of his task, Mr. Brotherson gave him one of his infrequent smiles and remarked, as he buried

the model under its cover, "You're handy and you're quiet at your job. Who knows but that I shall want you

"Won't I?" was the gay retort, as the detective thus released, stooped for the book still lying on the floor.

"Paolo and Francesca," he read, from the back, as he laid it on the table. "Poetry?" he queried.

"Rot," scornfully returned the other, as he moved to take down a bottle and some glasses from a cupboard let

Sweetwater taking advantage of the moment, sidled towards the shelf where that empty space still gaped with

the telltale hole at the back. He could easily have replaced the missing book before Mr. Brotherson turned.

But the issue was too doubtful. He was dealing with no absentminded fool, and it behooved him to avoid

above all things calling attention to the book or to the place on the shelf where it belonged.

But there was one thing he could do and did. Reaching out a finger as deft as Brotherson's own, he pushed a

second volume into the place of the one that was gone. This veiled the augerhole completely; a fact which

so entirely relieved his mind that his old smile came back like sunshine to his lips, and it was only by a

distinct effort that he kept the dancing humour from his eyes as he prepared to refuse the glass which

"None of that!" said he. "You mustn't tempt me. The doctor has shut down on all kinds of spirits for two

months more, at least. But don't let me hinder you. I can bear to smell the stuff. My turn will come again

But Brotherson did not drink. Setting down the glass he carried, he took up the book lying near, weighed it in

his hand and laid it down again, with an air of thoughtful inquiry. Then he suddenly pushed it towards

Sweetwater was too taken aback to answer immediately. This was a move he did not understand. Want it, he?

What he wanted was to see it put back in its place on the shelf. Did Brotherson suspect this? The supposition

Sweetwater, debating the subject, decided that the risk of adding to any such possible suspicion was less to be

dreaded than the continued threat offered by that unoccupied space so near the hole which testified so

unmistakably of the means he had taken to spy upon this suspected man's privacy. So, after a moment of

awkward silence, not out of keeping with the character he had assumed, he calmly refused the present as he

Unhappily he was not rewarded by seeing the despised volume restored to its shelf. It still lay where its

owner had pushed it, when, with some awkwardly muttered thanks, the discomfited detective withdrew to his

Early morning saw Sweetwater peering into the depths of his closet. The hole was hardly visible. This meant

Greatly reassured by the sight, he awaited his opportunity, and as soon as a suitable one presented itself,

prepared the hole for inspection by breaking away its edges and begriming it well with plaster and old dirt.

This done, he left matters to arrange themselves; which they did, after this manner.

Mr. Brotherson suddenly developed a great need of him, and it became a common thing for him to spend the

half and, sometimes, the whole of the evening in the neighbouring room. This was just what he had worked

for, and his constant intercourse with the man whose secret he sought to surprise should have borne fruit. But

it did not. Nothing in the eager but painstaking inventor showed a distracted mind or a heavilyburdened

soul. Indeed, he was so calm in all his ways, so precise and so selfcontained, that Sweetwater often

wondered what had become of the fiery agitator and eloquent propagandist of new and startling doctrines.

Then, he thought he understood the riddle. The model was reaching its completion, and Brotherson's extreme

interest in it and the confidence he had in its success swallowed tip all lesser emotions. Were the invention to

prove a failure but there was small hope of this. The man was of too wellpoised a mind to overestimate

his work or miscalculate its place among modern improvements. Soon he would reach the goal of his desires,

be praised, feted, made much of by the very people he now professedly scorned. There was no

thoroughfare for Sweetwater here. Another road must be found; some secret, strange and unforeseen method

of reaching a soul inaccessible to all ordinary or even extraordinary impressions.

Would a night of thought reveal such a method? Night! the very word brought inspiration. A man is not his

full self at night. Secrets which, under the ordinary circumstances of everyday life, lie too deep for surprise,

creep from their hidingplaces in the dismal hours of universal quiet, and lips which are dumb to the most

subtle of questioners break into strange and selfrevealing mutterings when sleep lies heavy on ear and eye

and the forces of life and death are released to play with the rudderless spirit.

It was in different words from these that Sweetwater reasoned, no doubt, but his conclusions were the same,

and as he continued to brood over them, he saw a chance a fool's chance, possibly, (but fools sometimes

win where wise men fail) of reaching those depths he still believed in, notwithstanding his failure to sound

Addressing a letter to his friend in Twentyninth Street, he awaited reply in the shape of a small package he

had ordered sent to the corner drugstore. When it came, he carried it home in a state of mingled hope and

misgiving. Was he about to cap his fortnight of disappointment by another signal failure; end the matter by

disclosing his hand; lose all, or win all by an experiment as daring and possibly as fanciful as were his

He made no attempt to argue the question. The event called for the exercise of the most dogged elements in

his character and upon these he must rely. He would make the effort he contemplated, simply because he was

minded to do so. That was all there was to it. But any one noting him well that night, would have seen that he

ate little and consulted his watch continually. Sweetwater had not yet passed the line where work becomes

Brotherson was unusually active and alert that evening. He was anxious to fit one delicate bit of mechanism

into another, and he was continually interrupted by visitors. Some big event was on in the socialistic world,

and his presence was eagerly demanded by one brotherhood after another. Sweetwater, posted at his

loophole, heard the arguments advanced by each separate spokesman, followed by Brotherson's unvarying

reply: that when his work was done and he had proved his right to approach them with a message, they might

look to hear from him again; but not before. His patience was inexhaustible, but he showed himself relieved

when the hour grew too late for further interruption. He began to whistle a token that all was going well

with him, and Sweetwater, who had come to understand some of his moods, looked forward to an hour or two

of continuous work on Brotherson's part and of dreary and impatient waiting on his own. But, as so many

times before, he misread the man. Earlier than common much earlier, in fact, Mr. Brotherson laid down his

tools and gave himself up to a restless pacing of the floor. This was not usual with him. Nor did he often

indulge himself in playing on the piano as he did tonight, beginning with a few heavenly strains and ending

with a bang that made the keyboard jump. Certainly something was amiss in the quarter where peace had

hitherto reigned undisturbed. Had the depths begun to heave, or were physical causes alone responsible for

The question was immaterial. Either would form an excellent preparation for the coup planned by

Sweetwater; and when, after another hour of uncertainty, perfect silence greeted him from his neighbour's

room, hope had soared again on exultant wing, far above all former discouragements.

Mr. Brotherson's bed was in a remote corner from the loophole made by Sweetwater; but in the stillness

now pervading the whole building, the latter could hear his even breathing very distinctly. He was in a deep

Taking from his breast a small box, he placed it on a shelf close against the partition. An instant of quiet

listening, then he touched a spring in the side of the box and laid his ear, in haste, to his loophole.

A strain of wellknown music broke softly, from the box and sent its vibrations through the wall.

It was answered instantly by a stir within; then, as the noble air continued, awakening memories of that fatal

instant when it crashed through the corridors of the Hotel Clermont, drowning Miss Challoner's cry if not the

sound of her fall, a word burst from the sleeping man's lips which carried its own message to the listening

Sweetwater, gasping with excitement, caught the box from the shelf and silenced it. It had done its work and

it was no part of Sweetwater's plan to have this strain located, or even to be thought real. But its echo still

lingered in Brotherson's otherwise unconscious ears; for another "Edith!" escaped his lips, followed by a

smothered but forceful utterance of these five words, "You know I promised you "

Promised her what? He did not say. Would he have done so had the music lasted a trifle longer? Would he

yet complete his sentence? Sweetwater trembled with eagerness and listened breathlessly for the next sound.

Brotherson was awake. He was tossing in his bed. Now he has leaped to the floor. Sweetwater hears him

groan, then comes another silence, broken at last by the sound of his body falling back upon the bed and the

troubled ejaculation of "Good God!" wrung from lips no torture could have forced into complaint under any

Sweetwater continued to listen, but he had heard all, and after some few minutes longer of fruitless waiting,

he withdrew from his post. The episode was over. He would hear no more that night.

Was he satisfied? Certainly the event, puerile as it might seem to some, had opened up strange vistas to his

aroused imagination. The words "Edith, you know I promised you " were in themselves provocative of

strange and doubtful conjectures. Had the sleeper under the influence of a strain of music indissolubly

associated with the death of Miss Challoner, been so completely forced back into the circumstances and

environment of that moment that his mind had taken up and his lips repeated the thoughts with which that

moment of horror was charged? Sweetwater imagined the scene saw the figure of Brotherson hesitating at

the top of the stairs saw hers advancing from the writingroom, with startled and uplifted hand heard the

music the crash of that great finale and decided, without hesitation, that the words he had just heard were

indeed the thoughts of that moment. "Edith, you know I promised you " What had he promised? What she

received was death! Had this been in his mind? Would this have been the termination of the sentence had he

Sweetwater dared to believe it. He was no nearer comprehending the mystery it involved than he had been

before, but he felt sure that he had been given one true and positive glimpse into this harassed soul which

showed its deeply hidden secret to be both deadly and fearsome; and happy to have won his way so far into

the mystic labyrinth he had sworn to pierce, he rested in happy unconsciousness till morning when

Could it be? Was it he who was dreaming now, or was the event of the night a mere farce of his own

imagining? Mr. Brotherson was whistling in his room, gaily and with ever increasing verve, and the tune

which filled the whole floor with music was the same grand finale from William Tell which had seemed to

work such magic in the night. As Sweetwater caught the mellow but indifferent notes sounding from those

lips of brass, he dragged forth the musicbox he held hidden in his coat pocket, and flinging it on the floor

"The man is too strong for me," he cried. "His heart is granite; he meets my every move. What am I to do

For a day Sweetwater acknowledged himself to be mentally crushed, disillusioned and defeated. Then his

spirits regained their poise. It would take a heavy weight indeed to keep them down permanently.

His opinion was not changed in regard to his neighbour's secret guilt. A demeanour of this sort suggested

bravado rather than bravery to the ever suspicious detective. But he saw, very plainly by this time, that he

would have to employ more subtle methods yet ere his hand would touch the goal which so tantalisingly

His work at the bench suffered that week; he made two mistakes. But by Saturday night he had satisfied

himself that he had reached the point where he would be justified in making use of Miss Challoner's letters.

So he telephoned his wishes to New York, and awaited the promised developments with an anxiety we can

only understand by realising how much greater were his chances of failure than of success. To ensure the

latter, every factor in his scheme must work to perfection. The medium of communication (a young, untried

girl) must do her part with all the skill of artist and author combined. Would she disappoint them? He did not

think so. Women possess a marvellous adaptability for this kind of work and this one was French, which

But Brotherson! In what spirit would he meet the proposed advances? Would he even admit the girl, and, if

he did, would the interview bear any such fruit as Sweetwater hoped for? The man who could mock the

terrors of the night by a careless repetition of a strain instinct with the most sacred memories, was not to be

depended upon to show much feeling at sight of a departed woman's writing. But no other hope remained,

The day was Sunday, which ensured Brotherson's being at home. Nothing would have lured Sweetwater out

for a moment, though he had no reason to expect that the affair he was anticipating would come off till early

But it did. Late in the afternoon he heard the expected steps go by his door a woman's steps. But they were

not alone. A man's accompanied them. What man? Sweetwater hastened to satisfy himself on this point by

Instantly the whole conversation became audible. "An errand? Oh, yes, I have an errand!" explained the

evidently unwelcome intruder, in her broken English. "This is my brother Pierre. My name is Celeste; Celeste

Ledru. I understand English ver well. I have worked much in families. But he understands nothing. He is all

French. He accompanies me for for the what you call it? les convenances. He knows nothing of the

"Great!" was his comment. "Just great! She has thought of everything or Mr. Gryce has."

"What is this beesiness, monsieur? I have something to sell so you Americans speak. Something you will

want much ver sacred, ver precious. A souvenir from the tomb, monsieur. Will you give ten no, that is

too leetle fifteen dollars for it? It is worth Oh, more, much more to the true lover. Pierre, tu es bete.

This adjuration, uttered in sharp reprimand and with but little of the French grace, may or may not have been

understood by the unsympathetic man they were meant to impress. But the name which accompanied them

his own name, never heard but once before in this house, undoubtedly caused the silence which almost

"Your French may be good, but it does not go with me. Yet is it more intelligible than your English. What do

you want here? What have you in that bag you wish to open; and what do you mean by the sentimental trash

"Ah, monsieur has not memory of me," came in the sweetest tones of a really seductive voice. " You astonish

me, monsieur. I thought you knew everybody else does Oh, tout le monde, monsieur, that I was Miss

Challoner's maid near her when other people were not near her the very day she died."

A pause; then an angry exclamation from some one. Sweetwater thought from the brother, who may have

misinterpreted some look or gesture on Brotherson's part. Brotherson himself would not be apt to show

"I saw many things Oh many things " the girl proceeded with an admirable mixture of suggestion and

reserve. "That day and other days too. She did not talk Oh, no, she did not talk, but I saw Oh, yes, I saw that

she that you I'll have to say it, monsieur, that you were tres bons amis after that week in Lenox."

"Well?" His utterance of this word was vigorous, but not tender. "What are you coming to? What can you

"I have these is monsieur certaine that no one can hear? I wouldn't have anybody hear what I have to tell

For the first time that day Sweetwater breathed a full, deep breath. This assurance had sounded heartfelt.

"You are unhappy. You have thought Miss Challoner cold; that she had no response for your ver ardent

passion. But " these words were uttered sotto voce and with telling pauses " but I know ver much

better than that. She was ver proud. She had a right; she was no poor girl like me but she spend hours

hours in writing letters she nevaire send. I saw one, just once, for a leetle minute; while you could breathe

so short as that; and began with Cheri, or your English for that, and ended with words Oh, ver much like

these: You may nevaire see these lines, which was ver interesting, veree so, and made one want to see what

she did with letters she wrote and nevaire mail; so I watch and look, and one day I see them. She had a leetle

ivory box Oh, ver nice, ver pretty. I thought it was jewels she kept locked up so tight. But, non, non, non. It

was letters these letters. I heard them rattle, rattle, not once but many times. You believe me, monsieur?

"I believe you to have taken every advantage posible to spy upon your mistress. I believe that, yes."

"As monsieur pleases. But it was strange, ver strange for a grande dame like that to write letters sheets on

sheets and then not send them, nevaire. I dreamed of those letters I could not help it, no; and when she

died so quick with no word for any one, no word at all, I thought of those writings so secret, so of the heart,

and when no one noticed or thought about this box, or or the key she kept shut tight, oh, always tight in

her leetle gold purse, I Monsieur, do you want to see those letters?" asked the girl, with a gulp. Evidently his

appearance frightened her or had her acting reached this point of extreme finish? "I had nevaire the chance

to put them back. And and they belong to monsieur. They are his all his and so beautiful! Ah, just like

"I don't consider them mine. I haven't a particle of confidence in you or in your story. You are a thief

selfconvicted; or you're an agent of the police whose motives I neither understand nor care to investigate.

She started to her feet. Sweetwater heard her chair grate on the painted floor, as she pushed it back in rising.

The brother rose too, but more calmly. Brotherson did not stir. Sweetwater felt his hopes rapidly dying down

"And Marie said everybody said that you loved our great lady; that you, of the people, common,

common, working with the hands, living with men and women working with the hands, that you had soul,

sentiment what you will of the good and the great, and that you would give your eyes for her words, si

fines, si spirituelles, so like des vers de poete. False! false! all false! She was an angel. You are read that! "

she vehemently broke in, opening her bag and whisking a paper down before him. "Read and understand my

proud and lovely lady. She did right to die. You are hard hard. You would have killed her if she had not "

"Silence, woman! I will read nothing!" came hissing from the strong man's teeth, set in almost ungovernable

"Nevaire! You will not read? But you shall, you shall. Behold another! One, two, three, four!" Madly they

flew from her hand. Madly she continued her vituperative attack. "Beast! beast! That she should pour out her

innocent heart to you, you! I do not want your money, Monsieur of the common street, of the common house.

It would be dirt. Pierre, it would be dirt. Ah, bah! je m'oublie tout a fait. Pierre, il est bete. Il refuse de les

toucher. Mais il faut qu'il les touche, si je les laisse sur le plancher. Vat'en! Je me moque de lui. Canaille!

A loud slam the skurrying of feet through the hall, accompanied by the slower and heavier tread of the

socalled brother, then silence, and such silence that Sweetwater fancied he could catch the sound of

Brotherson's heavy breathing. His own was silenced to a gasp. What a treasure of a girl! How natural her

indignation! What an instinct she showed and what comprehension! This high and mighty handling of a most

difficult situation and a most difficult man, had imposed on Brotherson, had almost imposed upon himself.

Those letters so beautiful, so spirituelle! Yet, the odds were that she had never read them, much less

But had she imposed on Brotherson? As the silence continued, Sweetwater began to doubt. He understood

quite well the importance of his neighbour's first movement. Were he to tear those letters into shreds! He

might be thus tempted. All depended on the strength of his present mood and the real nature of the secret

Was that heart as flinty as it seemed? Was there no place for doubt or even for curiosity, in its impenetrable

depths? Seemingly, he had not moved foot or hand since his unwelcome visitors had left. He was doubtless

still staring at the scattered sheets lying before him; possibly battling with unaccustomed impulses; possibly

weighing deeds and consequences in those slow moving scales of his in which no man could cast a weight

There was a sound as of settling coal. Only at night would one expect to hear so slight a sound as that in a

tenement full of noisy children. But the moment chanced to be propitious, and it not only attracted the

attention of Sweetwater on his side of the wall, but it struck the ear of Brotherson also. With an ejaculation as

bitter as it was impatient, he roused himself and gathered up the letters. Sweetwater could hear the successive

rustlings as he bundled them up in his hand. Then came another silence then the lifting of a stove lid.

Sweetwater had not been wrong in his secret apprehension. His identification with his unimpressionable

neighbour's mood had shown him what to expect. These letters these innocent and precious outpourings of

a rare and womanly soul the only conceivable open sesame to the hardlocked nature he found himself

But the lid was thrust back, and the letters remained in hand. Mortal strength has its limits. Even Brotherson

could not shut down that lid on words which might have been meant for him, harshly as he had repelled the

The pause which followed told little; but when Sweetwater heard the man within move with characteristic

energy to the door, turn the key and step back again to his place at the table, he knew that the danger moment

had passed and that those letters were about to be read, not casually, but seriously, as indeed their contents

This caused Sweetwater to feel serious himself. Upon what result might he calculate? What would happen to

this hardy soul, when the fact he so scornfully repudiated, was borne in upon him, and he saw that the disdain

which had antagonised him was a mere device a cloak to hide the secret heart of love and eager womanly

devotion? Her death little as Brotherson would believe it up till now had been his personal loss the

greatest which can befall a man. When he came to see this when the modest fervour of her unusual nature

began to dawn upon him in these selfrevelations, would the result be remorse, or just the deadening and

Impossible to tell. The balance of probability hung even. Sweetwater recognised this, and clung, breathless,

Mr. Brotherson read the first letter, standing. As it soon became public property, I will give it here, just as it

"When I sit, as I often do, in perfect quiet under the stars, and dream that you are looking at them too, not for

hours as I do, but for one full moment in which your thoughts are with me as wholly as mine are with you, I

feel that the bond between us, unseen by the world, and possibly not wholly recognised by ourselves, is

"It seems to have always been; to have known no beginning, only a budding, an efflorescence, the visible

product of a hidden but always present reality. A month ago and I was ignorant, even, of your name. Now,

you seem the best known to me, the best understood, of God's creatures. One afternoon of perfect

companionship one flash of strong emotion, with its deep, true insight into each other's soul, and the

miracle was wrought. We had met, and henceforth, parting would mean separation only, and not the severing

of a mutual bond. One hand, and one only, could do that now. I will not name that hand. For us there is

"Thus do I ease my heart in the silence which conditions impose upon us. Some day I shall hear your voice

The paper dropped from the reader's hand. It was several minutes before he took up another.

"I said that I could not write to you that we must wait. You were willing; but there is much to be

accomplished, and the silence may be long. My father is not an easy man to please, but he desires my

happiness and will listen to my plea when the right hour comes. When you have won your place when you

have shown yourself to be the man I feel you to be, then my father will recognise your worth, and the way

"But meantime! Ah, you will not know it, but words will rise the heart must find utterance. What the lip

cannot utter, nor the looks reveal, these pages shall hold in sacred trust for you till the day when my father

"Is it a folly? A woman's weak evasion of the strong silence of man? You may say so some day; but

The creaking of a chair; the man within had seated himself. There was no other sound; a soul in turmoil

wakens no echoes. Sweetwater envied the walls surrounding the unsympathetic reader. They could see. He

A little while; then that slight rustling again of the unfolding sheet. The following was read, and then the

"Did you think I had never seen you till that day we met in Lenox? I am going to tell you a secret a great,

"One day, in early summer, I was sitting in St. Bartholomew's Church on Fifth Avenue, waiting for the

services to begin. It was early and the congregation was assembling. While idly watching the people coming

in, I saw a gentleman pass by me up the aisle, who made me forget all the others. He had not the air of a New

Yorker; he was not even dressed in city style, but as I noted his face and expression, I said way down in my

heart, 'That is the kind of man I could love; the only man I have ever seen who could make me forget my own

world and my own people.' It was a passing thought, soon~ forgotten. But when in that hour of

embarrassment and peril on Greylock Mountain, I looked up into the face of my rescuer and saw again that

countenance which so short a time before had called into life impulses till then utterly unknown, I knew that

my hour was come. And that was why my confidence was so spontaneous and my belief in the future so

"I trust your love which will work wonders; and I trust my own, which sprang at a look but only gathered

strength and permanence when I found that the soul of the man I loved bettered his outward attractions,

making the ideal of my foolish girlhood seem as unsubstantial and evanescent as a dream in the glowing

"I can say so now; for you have written to me, and I have the dancing words with which to silence any

"I did not expect this. I thought that you would remain as silent as myself. But men's ways are not our ways.

They cannot exhaust longing in purposeless words on scraps of soulless paper, and I am glad that they

cannot. I love you for your impatience; for your purpose, and for the manliness which will win for you yet all

that you covet of fame, accomplishment and love. You expect no reply, but there are ways in which one can

keep silent and yet speak. Won't you be surprised when your answer comes in a manner you have never

In his interest in what was going on on the other side of the wall, Sweetwater had forgotten himself. Daylight

had declined, but in the darkness of the closet this change had passed unheeded. Night itself might come, but

that should not force him to leave his post so long as his neighbour remained behind his locked door,

brooding over the words of love and devotion which had come to him, as it were from the other world.

But was he brooding? That sound of iron clattering upon iron! That smothered exclamation and the laugh

which ended it! Anger and determination rang in that laugh. It had a hideous sound which prepared

Sweetwater for the smell which now reached his nostrils. The letters were burning; this time the lid had been

lifted from the stove with unrelenting purpose. Poor Edith Challoner's touching words had met, a different

fate from any which she, in her ignorance of this man's nature, a nature to which she had ascribed untold

As Sweetwater thought of this, he stirred nervously in the darkness, and broke into silent invective against the

man who could so insult the memory of one who had perished under the blight of his own coldness and

misunderstanding. Then he suddenly started back surprised and apprehensive. Brotherson had unlocked his

door, and was coming rapidly his way. Sweetwater heard his step in the hall and had hardly time to bound

from his closet, when he saw his own door burst in and found himself face to face with his redoubtable

neighbour, in a state of such rage as few men could meet without quailing, even were they of his own stature,

However, disappointment such as he had just experienced brings with it a desperation which often outdoes

"Well, what's the matter now? Has the machine busted, or tumbled into the fire or sailed away to lands

"You were coming out of that closet," was the fierce rejoinder. "What have you got there? Something which

concerns me, or why should your face go pale at my presence and your forehead drip with sweat? Don't think

that you've deceived me for a moment as to your business here. I recognised you immediately. You've played

the stranger well, but you've a nose and an eye nobody could forget. I have known all along that I had a

police spy for a neighbour; but it didn't faze me. I've nothing to conceal, and wouldn't mind a regiment of you

fellows if you'd only play a straight game. But when it comes to foisting upon me a parcel of letters to which

I have no right, and then setting a fellow like you to count my groans or whatever else they expected to hear,

I have a right to defend myself, and defend myself I will, by God! But first, let me be sure that my

accusations will stand. Come into this closet with me. It abuts on the wall of my room and has its own secret,

He did have Sweetwater at an advantage, and the detective knew it and disdained a struggle which would

have only called up a crowd, friendly to the other but inimical to himself. Allowing Brotherson to drag him

into the closet, he stood quiescent, while the determined man who held him with one hand, felt about with the

other over the shelves and along the partitions till he came to the hole which had offered such a happy means

of communication between the two rooms. Then, with a laugh almost as bitter in tone as that which rang from

Brotherson's lips, he acknowledged that business had its necessities and that apologies from him were in

"We've played a bout, we two; and you've come out ahead. Allow me to congratulate you, Mr. Brotherson.

The frown had come back to the forehead of the indignant man who confronted him.

"So you listened," he cried; "listened when you weren't sneaking under my eye! A fine occupation for a man

who can dovetail a corner like an adept. I wish I had let you join the brotherhood you were good enough to

mention. They would know how to appreciate your double gifts and how to reward your excellence in the

one, if not in the other. What did the police expect to learn about me that they should consider it necessary to

"I'm not good at conundrums. I was given a task to perform, and I performed it," was Sweetwater s sturdy

reply. Then slowly, with his eye fixed directly upon his antagonist, " I guess they thought you a man. And so

"Letters!" Fury thickened the speaker's voice, and lent a savage gleam to his eye. "Forgeries! Make believes!

Miss Challoner never wrote the drivel you dare to designate as letters. It was concocted at Police

Headquarters. They made me tell my story and then they found some one who could wield the poetic pen. I'm

obliged to them for the confidence they show in my credulity. I credit Miss Challoner with such words as

have been given me to read here today? I knew the lady, and I know myself. Nothing that passed between

us, not an event in which we were both concerned, has been forgotten by me, and no feature of our

intercourse fits the language you have ascribed to her. On the contrary, there is a lamentable contradiction

between facts as they were and the fancies you have made her indulge in. And this, as you must

acknowledge, not only proves their falsity, but exonerates Miss Challoner from all possible charge of

"Yet she certainly wrote those letters. We had them from Mr. Challoner. The woman who brought them was

It was not offensively said; but the conviction it expressed was absolute. Sweetwater recognised the tone, as

one of truth, and inwardly laid down his arms. He could never like the man; there was too much iron in his

fibre; but he had to acknowledge that as a foe he was invulnerable and therefore admirable to one who had

"I do not want to believe you." Thus did Brotherson supplement his former sentence. "For if I were to

attribute those letters to her, I should have to acknowledge that they were written to another man than myself.

And this would be anything but agreeable to me. Now I am going to my room and to my work. You may

spend the rest of the evening or the whole night, if you will, listening at that hole. As heretofore, the labour

With a satirical play of feature which could hardly be called a smile, he nodded and left the room.

"It's all up. I'm beaten on my own ground." Thus confessed Sweetwater, in great dejection, to himself. "But

I'm going to take advantage of the permission he's just given me and continue the listening act. Just because

he told me to and just because he thinks I won't. I'm sure it's no worse than to spend hours of restless tossing

As he was putting his supper dishes away, a messenger boy knocked at his door and handed him a note. It

"Steal off, if you can, and as soon as you can, and meet me in Twentyninth Street. A discovery has been

"What's happened? Something very important. I ought to hope so after this confounded failure."

"No, he didn't weaken. You can't get water out of a millstone. You may squeeze and squeeze; but it's your

fingers which suffer, not it. He thinks we manufactured. those letters ourselves on purpose draw him."

"Humph! I knew we had a reputation for finesse, but I didn't know that it ran that high."

"He denies everything. Said she would never have written such letters to him; even goes so far to declare that

if she did write them (he must be strangely ignorant of her handwriting) they were meant for some other

man than himself. All rot, but " A hitch of the shoulder conveyed Sweetwater's disgust. His uniform good

But Mr. Gryce's was not. The faint smile with which he smoothed with an easy, circling movement, the

already polished top of his ever present cane conveyed a secret complacency which called up a flash of

"He says that, does he? You found him on the whole tolerably straightforward, eh? A hard nut; but hard nuts

are usually sound ones. Come, now! prejudice aside, what's your honest opinion of the man you've had under

your eye and ear for three solid weeks? Hasn't there been the best of reasons for your failure? Speak up, my

"I can't. I hate the fellow. I hate any one who makes me look ridiculous. He well, well, if you'll have it, sir,

I will say this much. If it weren't for that blasted coincidence of the two deaths equally mysterious, equally

under his eye, I'd stake my life on his honesty. But that coincidence stumps me and and a sort of feeling I

It is to be hoped that the slap he gave his breast, at this point, carried off some of his superfluous emotion.

"You can't account for a feeling, Mr. Gryce. The man has no heart. He's as hard as rocks."

"A not uncommon lack where the head plays so big a part. We can't hang him on any such argument as that.

"Then listen to this. The test with the letters failed, because what he said about them was true. They were not

"Another whom she favoured. The letters found in her possession not the ones she wrote herself, but those

which were written to her over the signature 0. B. were not all from the same hand. Experts have been busy

with them for a week, and their reports are unanimous. The 0. B. who wrote the threatening lines

acknowledged to by Orlando Brotherson, was not the 0. B. who penned all of those love letters. The

similarity in the writing misled us at first, but once the doubt was raised by Mr. Challoner's discovery of an

allusion in one of them which pointed to another writer than Mr. Brotherson, and experts had no difficulty in

Yes, it is incredible; but the incredible is not the impossible. The man you've been shadowing denies that

these expressive effusions of Miss Challoner were meant for him. Let us see, then, if we can find the man

"Do you mean that I after my egregious failure am not to be kept on the dunce's seat? That you will give

"Yes. We don't know of a better man. It isn't your fault, you said it yourself, that water couldn't be squeezed

A pause, during which the eager light in the young detective's eye clouded over. Presently he remarked:

"How will the finding of another 0. B. alter Mr. Brotherson's position? He still will be the one person on the

spot, known to have cherished a grievance against the victim of this mysterious killing. To my mind, this

discovery of a more favoured rival, brings in an element of motive which may rob our selfreliant friend of

some of his complacency. We may further, rather than destroy, our case against Brotherson by locating a

"That won't make your task any more irksome," he smiled. "The loop we thus throw out is as likely to catch

Brotherson as his rival. It all depends upon the sort of man we find in this second 0. B.; and whether, in some

way unknown to us, he gave her cause for the sudden and overwhelming rush of despair which alone supports

"Your ticket is bought to Derby, Pennsylvania. If he is not employed in the great factories there, we do not

"And you will first inquire, not for 0. B., that's too indefinite; but for a young girl by the name of Doris Scott.

"She lives in Derby. Derby is a small place. You will have no trouble in finding this child. It was to her Miss

"No, you don't, Sweetwater. The affair is as blind as your hat; nobody sees. We're just feeling along a thread.

O. B.'s letters the real O. B., I mean, are the manliest effusions possible. He's no more of a milksop than this

Brotherson; and unlike your indomitable friend he seems to have some heart. I only wish he'd given us some

facts; they would have been serviceable. But the letters reveal nothing except that he knew Doris. He writes

in one of them: 'Doris is learning to embroider. It's like a fairy weaving a cobweb!' Doris isn't a very common

name. She must be the same little girl to whom Miss Challoner wrote from time to time."

"Yes; they all are. The only difference between his letters and Brotherson's is this: Brotherson's retain the

"Yes, or rather, neatly cut away; and as none of the envelopes were kept, the only means by which we can

"If I remember rightly Miss Challoner's letter to this child was free from all mystery."

"Quite so. It is as open as the day. That is why it has been mentioned as showing the freedom of Miss

Sweetwater took up the sheet Mr. Gryce pushed towards him and reread these lines:

"It is a snowy night, but it is all bright inside and I feel no chill in mind or body. I hope it is so in the little

cottage in Derby; that my little friend is as happy with harsh winds blowing from the mountains as she was

on the summer day she came to see me at this hotel. I like to think of her as cheerful and beaming, rejoicing

"Yet there is a Doris. Remember that O. B. says in one of his letters, ' Doris is learning to embroider.'

"And as Miss Challoner's letter was directed to Derby, Pennsylvania, you will go to Derby."

Sweetwater's eyes slowly rose till they rested on Mr. Gryce's face: "I'll cling to the thread you've given me.

Mr. Gryce smiled; but there was more age, wisdom and sympathy for youthful enthusiasm in that smile than

The stationmaster looked somewhat sharply at the man he was addressing, and decided to give the direction

"There is but one young girl in town of that name," he declared, "and she lives in that little house you see just

beyond the works. But let me tell you, stranger," he went on with some precipitation

But here he was called off, and Sweetwater lost the conclusion of his warning, if warning it was meant to be.

This did not trouble the detective. He stood a moment, taking in the prospect; decided that the Works and the

Works alone made the town, and started for the house which had been pointed out to him. His way lay

through the chief business street, and greatly preoccupied by his errand, he gave but a passing glance to the

rows on rows of workmen's dwellings stretching away to the left in seemingly endless perspective. Yet in that

glance he certainly took in the fact hat the sidewalks were blocked with people and wondered if it were a

holiday. If so, it must be an enforced one, for the faces showed little joy. Possibly a strike was on. The

anxiety he everywhere saw pictured on young faces and old, argued some trouble; but if the trouble was that,

why were all heads turned indifferently from the Works, and why were the Works themselves in full blast?

These questions he may have asked himself and he may not. His attention was entirely centred on the house

he saw before him and on the possible developments awaiting him there. Nothing else mattered. Briskly he

stepped out along the sandy road, and after a turn or two which led him quite away from the Works and its

It was a low and unpretentious one, and had but one distinguishing feature. The porch which hung well over

the doorstep was unique in shape and gave an air of picturesqueness to an otherwise simple exterior; a

picturesqueness which was much enhanced in its effect by the background of illimitable forest, which united

the foreground of this pleasing picture with the great chain of hills which held the Works and town in its

As he approached the doorstep, his mind involuntarily formed an anticipatory image of the child whose first

stitches in embroidery were like a fairy's weaving to the strong man who worked in ore and possibly figured

out bridges. That she would prove to be of the anemic type, common among working girls gifted with an

He was therefore greatly taken aback, when at his first step upon the porch, the door before him flew open

and he beheld in the dark recess beyond a young woman of such bright and blooming beauty that he hardly

noticed her expression of extreme anxiety, till she lifted her hand and laid an admonitory finger softly on her

"Hush! she whispered, with an earnestness which roused him from his absorption and restored him to the full

meaning of this encounter. "There is sickness in the house and we are very anxious. Is your errand an

important one? If not "The faltering break in the fresh, young voice, the look she cast behind her into the

darkened interior, were eloquent with the hope that he would recognise her impatience and pass on.

And so he might have done, so he would have done under all ordinary circumstances. But if this was Doris

and he did not doubt the fact after the first moment of startled surprise how dare he forego this

With a slight stammer but otherwise giving no evidence of the effect made upon him by the passionate

intensity with which she had urged this plea, he assured her that his errand was important, but one so quickly

told that it would delay her but a moment. "But first, said he, with very natural caution, "let me make sure

Without showing any surprise, perhaps too engrossed in her own thoughts to feel any, she answered with

simple directness, "Yes, I am Doris Scott. Whereupon he became his most persuasive self, and pulling out a

folded paper from his pocket, opened it and held it before her, with these words:

"Then will you be so good as to glance at this letter and tell me if the person whose initials you will find at

In some astonishment now, she glanced down at the sheet thus boldly thrust before her, and recognising the 0

and the B of a wellknown signature, she flashed a look back at Sweetwater in which he read a confusion of

"Ah, thought he, " it's coming. In another moment I shall hear what will repay me for the trials and

But the moment passed and he had heard nothing. Instead, she dropped her hands from the doorjamb and

gave such unmistakable evidences of intended flight, that but one alternative remained to him; he became

Thrusting the paper still nearer, he said, with an emphasis which could not fail of making an impression,

"Read it. Read the whole letter. You will find your name there. This communication was addressed to Miss

Oh, now she found words! With a low cry, she put out her hand in quick entreaty, begging him to desist and

not speak that name on any pretext or for any purpose. "He may rouse and hear, she explained, with another

quick look behind her. "The doctor says that this is the critical day. He may become conscious any minute. If

"Mr. Brotherson, my patient, he whose letter " But here her impatience rose above every other

consideration. Without attempting to finish her sentence, or yielding in the least to her curiosity or interest in

this man's errand, she cried out with smothered intensity, "Go! go! I cannot stay another moment from his

But a thunderbolt could not have moved Sweetwater after the hearing of that name. "Mr. Brotherson! he

"No, no; his name is Oswald. He's the manager of these Works. He's sick with typhoid. We are caring for

him. If you belonged here you would know that much. There! that's his voice you hear. Go, if you have any

But Sweetwater was impervious to all hint. With eager eyes straining into the shadowy depths just visible

over her shoulder, he listened eagerly for the disjointed words now plainly to be heard in some nearby but

"The second 0. B.! he inwardly declared. "And he's a Brotherson also, and sick! Miss Scott," he

whisperingly entreated as her hand fell in manifest despair from the door, "don't send me away yet. I've a

question of the greatest importance to put you, and one minute more cannot make any difference to him.

Listen! those cries are the cries of delirium; he cannot miss you; he's not even conscious."

"He's calling out in his sleep. He's calling her, just as he has called for the last two weeks. But he will wake

The anguish trembling in that latter phrase would have attracted Sweetwater's earnest, if not pitiful, attention

at any other time, but now he had ears only for the cry which at that moment came ringing shrilly from within

The living shouting for the dead! A heart still warm sending forth its longing to the pierced and pulseless one,

hidden in a faroff tomb! To Sweetwater, who had seen Miss Challoner buried, this summons of distracted

Then the present regained its sway. He heard her name again, and this time it sounded less like a call and

more like the welcoming cry of meeting spirits. Was death to end this separation? Had he found the true 0.

B., only to behold another and final seal fall upon this closely folded mystery? In his fear of this possibility,

"When was Mr. Brotherson taken ill? Tell me, I entreat you; the exact day and, if you can, the exact hour.

She wrenched her hand from his, panting with impatience and a vague alarm. But she answered him

"On the Twentyfifth of last month, just an hour after he was made manager. He fell in a faint at the Works."

"Had he heard did you tell him then or afterwards what happened in New York on that very date?"

"Edith! Edith! came again through the hush, a hush so deep that Sweetwater received the impression that the

This discovery had its effects upon him. Why should he subject this young and loving girl to further pain? He

had already learned more than he had expected to. The rest would come with time. But at the first intimation

he gave of leaving, she lost her abstracted air and turned with absolute eagerness towards him.

"One moment, said she. "You are a stranger and I do not know your name or your purpose here. But I cannot

let you go without begging you not to mention to any one in this town that Mr. Brotherson has any interest in

the lady whose name we must not speak. Do not repeat that delirious cry you have heard or betray in any way

our intense and fearful interest in this young lady's strange death. You have shown me a letter. Do not speak

of that letter, I entreat you. Help us to retain our secret a little longer. Only the doctor and myself know what

awaits Mr. Brotherson if he lives. I had to tell the doctor, but a doctor reveals nothing. Promise that you will

not either, at least till this crisis is passed. It will help my father and it will help me; and we need all the help

"Thank you, she cried; "thank you. I thought I saw kindness in your face." And she again prepared to close

But Sweetwater had one more question to ask. "Pardon me, said he, as he stepped down on the walk, "you

say that this is a critical day with your patient. Is that why every one whom I have seen so far wears such a

"Yes, yes," she cried, giving him one other glimpse of her lovely, agitated face. "There's but one feeling in

town today, but one hope, and, as I believe, but one prayer. That the man whom every one loves and every

But it rang but faintly now in the ears of our detective. The door had fallen to, and Sweetwater's share in the

Slowly he moved away. He was in a confused yet elated condition of mind. Here was food for a thousand

new thoughts and conjectures. An Orlando Brotherson and an Oswald Brotherson relatives possibly,

strangers possibly; but whether relatives or strangers, both given to signing their letters with their initials

simply; and both the acknowledged admirers of the deceased Miss Challoner. But she had loved only one,

and that one, Oswald. It not difficult to recognise the object of this high hearted woman's affections in this

man whose struggle with the masterdestroyer had awakened the solicitude of a whole town.

Ten minutes after Sweetwater's arrival in the village streets, he was at home with the people he found there.

His conversation with Doris in the doorway of her home had been observed by the curious and farsighted,

and the questions asked and answered had made him friends at once. Of course, he could tell them nothing,

but that did not matter, he had seen and talked with Doris and their idolised young manager was no worse and

Of his own affairs of his business with Doris and the manager, they asked nothing. All ordinary interests

It was the same in the barroom of the one hotel. Without resorting to more than a question or two, he readily

learned all that was generally known of Oswald Brotherson. Every one was talking about him, and each had

some story to tell illustrative of his kindness, his courage and his quick mind. The Works had never produced

a man of such varied capabilities and all round sympathies. To have him for manager meant the greatest good

His rise had been rapid. He had come from the east three years before, new to the work. Now, he was the one

man there. Of his relationships east, family or otherwise, nothing was said. For them his life began and ended

in Derby, and Sweetwater could see, though no actual expression was given to the feeling, that there was but

one expectation in regard to him and Doris, to whose uncommon beauty and sweetness they all seemed fully

alive. And Sweetwater wondered, as many of us have wondered, at the gulf frequently existing between fancy

Later there came a small excitement. The doctor was seen riding by on his way to the sick man. From the

window where he sat, Sweetwater watched him pass up the street and take the road he had himself so lately

traversed. It was so straight a one and led so directly northward that he could follow with his eye the doctor's

whole course, and even get a glimpse of his figure as he stepped from the buggy and proceeded to tie up the

horse. There was an energy about him pleasing to Sweetwater. He might have much to do with this doctor. If

Oswald Brotherson died but he was not willing to consider this possibility yet. His personal sympathies,

to say nothing of his professional interest in the mystery to which this man and this man only possibly

held the key, alike forbade. He would hope, as these others were hoping, and if he did not count the minutes,

he at least saw every move of the old horse waiting with drooping head and the resignation of long custom

And so an hour two hours passed. Others were watching the old horse now. The street showed many an

eager figure with head turned northward. From the open doorways women stepped, looked in the direction

of their anxiety and retreated to their work again. Suspense was everywhere; the moments dragged like hours;

it became so keen at last that some impatient hearts could no longer stand it. A woman put her baby into

another woman's arms and hurried up the road; another followed, then another; then an old man, bowed with

years and of tottering steps, began to go that way, halting a dozen times before he reached the group now

collected in the dusty highway, near but not too near that house. As Sweetwater's own enthusiasm swelled at

this sight, he thought of the other Brotherson with his theories and active advocacy for reform, and wondered

if men and women would forego their meals and stand for hours in the keen spring wind just to be the first to

hear if he were to live or die. He knew that he himself would not. But he had suffered much both in his pride

and his purse at the hands of the Brooklyn inventor; and such despoliation is not a reliable basis for

sympathy. He was questioning his own judgment in this matter and losing himself in the mazes of past doubts

and conjectures when a sudden change took place in the aspect of the street; he saw people running, and in

another moment saw why. The doctor had shown himself on the porch which all were watching. Was he

coming out? No, he stands quite still, runs his eye over the people waiting quietly in the road, and beckons to

one of the smaller boys. The child, with upturned face, stands listening to what he has to say, then starts on a

run for the village. He is stopped, pulled about, questioned, and allowed to run on. Many rush forth to meet

him. He is panting, but gleeful. Mr. Brotherson has waked up conscious, and the doctor says, HE WILL

That night Dr. Fenton had a visitor. We know that visitor and we almost know what his questions were, if not

the answers of the good doctor. Nevertheless, it may be better to listen to a part at least of their conversation.

Sweetwater, who knew when to be frank and open, as well as when to be reserved and ambiguous, made no

effort to disguise the nature of his business or his chief cause of interest in Oswald Brotherson. The eye

which met his was too penetrating not to detect the smallest attempt at subterfuge; besides, Sweetwater had

no need to hide his errand; it was one of peace, and it threatened nobody "the more's the pity, thought he in

uneasy comment to himself, as he realised the hopelessness of the whole situation.

"Dr. Fenton, my name is Sweetwater. I am from New York, and represent for the nonce, Mr. Challoner,

whose name I have simply to mention, for you to understand that my business is with Mr. Brotherson whom I

am sorry to find seriously, if not dangerously, ill. Will you tell me how long you think it will be before I can

have a talk with him on a subject which I will not disguise from you may prove a very exciting one?

"Weeks, weeks," returned the doctor. "Mr. Brotherson has been a very sick man and the only hope I have of

his recovery is the fact that he is ignorant of his trouble or that he has any cause for doubt or dread. Were this

happy condition of things to be disturbed, were the faintest rumour of sorrow or disaster to reach him in his

present weakened state, I should fear a relapse, with all its attendant dangers. What then, if any intimation

should be given him of the horrible tragedy suggested by the name you have mentioned? The man would die

"I can give you no date. Typhoid is a treacherous complaint; he has the best of nurses and the chances are in

favour of a quick recovery; but we never can be sure. You had better return to New York. Later, you can

write me if you wish, or Mr. Challoner can. You may have confidence in my reply; it will not mislead you.

"Dr. Fenton, he began, "you are a man to be trusted. I'm in a devil of a fix, and there is just a possibility that

you may be able to help me out. It is the general opinion in New York, as you may know, that Miss Challoner

committed suicide. But the circumstances do not fully bear out this theory, nor can Mr. Challoner be made to

accept it. Indeed, he is so convinced of its falsehood, that he stands ready to do anything, pay anything, suffer

anything, to have this distressing blight removed from his daughter's good name. Mr. Brotherson was her

dearest friend, and as such may have the clew to this mystery, but Mr. Brotherson may not be in a condition

to speak for several weeks. Meanwhile, Mr. Challoner must suffer from great suspense unless a pause

during which he searched the doctor's face with a perfectly frank and inquiring expression " unless some

"No more than another, said he. "Except for what Doris felt compelled to tell me, I know as little as yourself.

Mr. Brotherson's delirium took the form of calling continually upon one name. I did not know this name, but

Doris did, also the danger lurking in the fact that he had yet to hear of the tragedy which had robbed him of

this woman to whom he was so deeply attached. So she told me just this much. That the Edith whose name

rung so continuously in our ears was no other than the Miss Challoner of New York of whose death and its

tragic circumstances the papers have been full; that their engagement was a secret one unshared so far as she

knew by any one but herself. That she begged me to preserve this secret and to give her all the help I could

when the time came for him to ask questions. Especially did she entreat me to be with her at the crisis. I was,

but his waking was quite natural. He did not ask for Miss Challoner; he only inquired how long he had been

ill and whether Doris had received a letter during that time. She had not received one, a fact which seemed to

disappoint him; but she carried it off so gaily (she is a wonderful girl, Mr. Sweetwater the darling of all our

hearts), saying that he must not be so egotistical as to think that the news of his illness had gone beyond

Derby, that he soon recovered his spirits and became a very promising convalescent. That is all I know about

Sweetwater nodded; he had expected nothing from the doctor, and was not disappointed at his failure. There

were two strings to his bow, and the one proving valueless, he proceeded to test the other.

"You have mentioned Miss Scott, as the confidante and only confidante of this unhappy pair, said he.

It was a daring proposition; he understood this at once from the doctor's expression; and, fearing a hasty

rebuff, he proceeded to supplement his request with a few added arguments, urged with such unexpected

address and show of reason that Dr. Fenton's aspect visibly softened and in the end he found himself ready to

promise that he would do what he could to secure his visitor the interview he desired if he would come to the

This was as much as the young detective could expect, and having expressed his thanks, he took his leave in

anything but a discontented frame of mind. With so powerful an advocate as the doctor, he felt confident that

he should soon be able to conquer this young girl's reticence and learn all that was to be learned from any one

but Mr. Brotherson himself. In the time which must elapse between that happy hour and the present, he would

circulate and learn what he could about the prospective manager. But he soon found that he could not enter

the Works without a permit, and this he was hardly in a position to demand; so he strolled about the village

Struck by the inviting aspect of a narrow and little used road opening from the highway shortly above the

house where his interests were just then centred, he strolled into the heart of the spring woods till he came to

a depression where a surprise awaited him, in the shape of a peculiar structure rising from its midst where it

just fitted, or so nearly fitted that one could hardly walk about it without brushing the surrounding tree trunks.

Of an oval shape, with its door facing the approach, it nestled there, a wonder to the eye and the occasion of

considerable speculation to his inquiring mind. It had not been long built, as was shown very plainly by the

fresh appearance of the unpainted boards of which it was constructed; and while it boasted of a door, as I've

already said, there were no evidences visible of any other break in the smooth, neatly finished walls. A

wooden ellipse with a roof but no windows; such it appeared and such it proved to be. A mystery to

Sweetwater's eyes, and like all mysteries, interesting. For what purpose had it been built and why this

isolation? It was too flimsy for a reservoir and too expensive for the wild freak of a crank.

A nearer view increased his curiosity, In the projection of the roof over the curving sides he found fresh food

for inquiry. As he examined it in the walk he made around the whole structure, he came to a place where

something like a hinge became visible and further on another. The roof was not simply a roof; it was also a

lid capable of being raised for the air and light which the lack of windows necessitated. This was an odd

discovery indeed, giving to the uncanny structure the appearance of a huge box, the cover of which could be

raised or lowered at pleasure. And again he asked himself for what it could be intended? What enterprise,

even of the great Works, could demand a secrecy so absolute that such pains as these should be taken to shut

out all possibility of a prying eye. Nothing in his experience supplied him with an answer.

He was still looking up at these hinges, with glance which took in at the same time the nearness and extreme

height of the trees by which this sylvan mystery was surrounded, when a sound from the road on the opposite

side of the hollow brought his conjectures to a standstill and sent him hurrying on to the nearest point from

A team was approaching. He could hear the heavy tread of horses working their laborious way through trees

whose obstructing branches swished before and behind them. They were bringing in a load for this shed,

whose uses he would consequently soon understand. Grateful for his good luck for his was a curiosity

which could not stand defeat he took a few steps into the wood, and from the vantage point of a concealing

cluster of bushes, fixed his eyes upon the spot where the road opened into the hollow.

Something blue moved there, and in another moment, to his great amazement, there stepped into view the

spirited form of Doris Scott, who if he had given the matter a thought he would have supposed to be sitting

She was dressed for the woods in a blue skirt and jacket and moved like a leader in front of a heavily laden

wagon now coming to a standstill before the closely shut shed if such we may call it.

"I have a key," so she called out to the driver who had paused for orders. "When I swing the doors wide, drive

Sweetwater took a look at the wagon. It was piled high with large wooden boxes on more than one of which

This explained her presence, but the boxes told nothing. They were of all sizes and shapes, and some of them

so large that the assistance of another man was needed to handle them. Sweetwater was about to offer his

services when a second man appeared from somewhere in the rear, and the detective's attention being thus

released from the load out of which he could make nothing, he allowed it to concentrate upon the young girl

who had it in charge and who, for many reasons, was the one person of supreme importance to him.

She had swung open the two wide doors, and now stood waiting for horse and wagon to enter. With locks

flying free she wore no bonnet she presented a picture of ever increasing interest to Sweetwater. Truly

she was a very beautiful girl, buoyant, healthy and sweet; as unlike as possible his preconceived notions of

Miss Challoner's humble little protegee. Her brown hair of a rich chestnut hue, was in itself a wonder. On no

head, even in the great city he had just left, had he seen such abundance, held in such modest restraint. Nature

had been partial to this little working girl and given her the chevelure of a queen.

But this was nothing. No one saw this aureole when once the eye had rested on her features and caught the

full nobility of their expression and the lurking sweetness underlying her every look. She herself made the

charm and whether placed high or placed low, must ever attract the eye and afterwards lure the heart, by an

Young yet, but gifted, as girls of her class often are, with the nicest instincts and purest aspirations, she

of her thoughts both in her glance and the poise with which she awaited events. Sweetwater watched her with

admiration as she superintended the unloading of the wagon and the disposal of the various boxes on the floor

within; but as nothing she said during the process was calculated to afford the least enlightenment in regard to

their contents, he presently wearied of his inaction and turned back towards the highway, comforting himself

with the reflection that in a few short hours he would have her to himself when nothing but a blunder on his

part should hinder him from sounding her young mind and getting such answers to his questions as the affair

"You see me again, Miss Scott. I hope that yesterday's intrusion has not prejudiced you against me.

"I have no prejudices, was her simple but firm reply. "I am only hurried and very anxious. The doctor is with

Mr. Brotherson just now; but he has several other equally sick patients to visit and I dare not keep him here

"Then you will welcome my abruptness. Miss Scott, here is a letter from Mr. Challoner. It will explain my

position. As you will see, his only desire is to establish the fact that his daughter did not commit suicide. She

was all he had in the world, and the thought that she could, for any reason, take her own life is unbearable to

him. Indeed, he will not believe she did so, evidence or no evidence. May I ask if you agree with him? You

have seen Miss Challoner, I believe. Do you think she was the woman to plunge a dagger in her heart in a

"No, Mr. Sweetwater. I'm a poor working girl, with very little education and almost no knowledge of the

world and such ladies as she. But something tells me for all that, that she was too nice to do this. I saw her

once and it made me want to be quiet and kind and beautiful like her. I never shall think she did anything so

horrible. Nor will Mr. Brotherson ever believe it. He could not and live. You see, I am talking to you as if you

knew him, the kind of man he is and just how he feels towards Miss Challoner. He is Her voice trailed off

and a look, uncommon and almost elevated, illumined her face. "I will not tell you what he is; you will know,

"If the favourable opinion of a whole town makes a good fellow, he ought to be of the best," returned

Sweetwater, with his most honest smile. "I hear but one story of him wherever I turn."

"There is but one story to tell," she smiled, and her head drooped softly, but with no air of

Sweetwater watched her for a moment, and then remarked: "I'm going to take one thing for granted; that you

"More than that, that you are ready and eager to help us. Your very looks show that."

"You are right; I would do anything to help you. But who can a girl like me do? Nothing; nothing. I know too

little. Mr. Challoner must see that when you tell him I'm only the daughter of a foreman."

"Yes," she smiled, "he would want me to say so. But that's his goodness. I don't deserve the honour."

"His friend and therefore his confidante," Sweetwater continued. "He has talked to you about Miss

"He had to. There was nobody else to whom he could talk; and then, I had seen her and could understand."

"In New York. I was there once with father, who took me to see her. I think she had asked Mr. Brotherson to

"She has been good enough to write, and I have ventured at times to answer her."

The suspicion which might have come to some men found no harbour in Sweetwater's mind. This young girl

was beautiful, there was no denying that, beautiful in a somewhat startling and quite unusual way; but there

was nothing in her bearing, nothing in Miss Challoner's letters to indicate that she had been a cause for

jealousy in the New York lady's mind. He, therefore, ignored this possibility, pursuing his inquiry along the

direct lines he had already laid out for himself. Smiling a little, but in a very earnest fashion, he pointed to the

"Remember that I'm not speaking for myself, Miss Scott, when I seem a little too persistent and inquiring.

You have corresponded with Miss Challoner; you have been told the fact of her secret engagement to Mr.

Brotherson and you have been witness to his conduct and manner for the whole time he has been separated

from her. Do you, when you think of it carefully, recall anything in the whole story of this romance which

would throw light upon the cruel tragedy which has so unexpectedly ended it? Anything, Miss Scott? Straws

"I can answer at once, said she, "because I have thought of nothing else for all these weeks. Here all was well.

Mr. Brotherson was hopeful and happy and believed in her happiness and willingness to wait for his success.

And this success was coming so fast! Oh, how can we ever tell him! How can we ever answer his questions

even, or keep him satisfied and calm until he is strong enough to hear the truth. I've had to acknowledge

already that I have had no letter from her for weeks. She never wrote to him directly, you know, and she

never sent him messages, but he knew that a letter to me, was also a letter to him and I can see that he is

troubled by this long silence, though he says I was right not to let her know of his illness and that I must

continue to keep her in ignorance of it till he is quite well again and can write to her himself. It is hard to hear

Sweetwater remembered Miss Challoner's last letter, and wished he had it here to give her. In default of this,

"Perhaps this not hearing may act in the way of a preparation for the shock which must come to him sooner

"Nothing can prepare him," said she. Then added, with a yearning accent, "I wish I were older or had more

experience. I should not feel so helpless. But the gratitude I owe him will give me strength when I need it

Unconscious of any selfbetrayal, she lifted her eyes, startling Sweetwater by the beauty of her look. "I don't

think I'm so sorry for Oswald Brotherson," he murmured to himself as he left her. "He's a more fortunate man

That evening the disappointed Sweetwater took the train for New York. He had failed to advance the case in

hand one whit, yet the countenance he showed Mr. Gryce at their first interview was not a wholly gloomy

"Fifty dollars to the bad!" was his first laconic greeting. "All I have learned is comprised in these two

statements. The second O. B. is a fine fellow; and not intentionally the cause of our tragedy. He does not even

know about it. He's down with the fever at present and they haven't told him. When he's better we may hear

Sweetwater complied; and such is the unconsciousness with which we often encounter the pivotal

circumstance upon which our future or the future of our most cherished undertaking hangs, he omitted from

his story, the sole discovery which was of any real importance in the unravelling of the mystery in which they

were so deeply concerned. He said nothing of his walk in the woods or of what he saw there.

"But that's as it should be, if you and I are right in our impressions and the clew to this mystery lies here in

the character and daring of Orlando Brotherson. That's why I'm not down in the mouth. Which goes to show

"Exactly. By the way, what news of the gentleman I've just mentioned? Is he as serene in my absence as

"More so; he looks like a man on the verge of triumph. But I fear the triumph he anticipates has nothing to do

"You discourage me, sir. And now to see Mr. Challoner. Small comfort can I carry him."

In the comfortable little sittingroom of the Scott cottage Doris stood, looking eagerly from the window

which gave upon the road. Behind her on the other side of the room, could be seen through a partly opened

door, a neatly spread bed, with a hand lying quietly on the patched coverlet. It was a strong looking hand

which, even when quiescent, conveyed the idea of purpose and vitality. As Doris said, the fingers never

curled up languidly, but always with the hint of a clench. Several weeks had passed since the departure of

Was Doris thinking of him? Undoubtedly, for her eyes often flashed his way; but her main attention was

fixed upon the road, though no one was in sight at the moment. Some one had passed for whose return she

looked; some one whom, if she had been asked to describe, she would have called a tall, finelooking man of

middle age, of a cultivated appearance seldom seen in this small manufacturing town; seldom seen, possibly,

in any town. He had glanced up at the window as he went by, in a manner too marked not to excite her

curiosity. Would he look up again when he came back? She was waiting there to see. Why, she did not know.

She was not used to indulging in petty suppositions of this kind; her life was too busy, her anxieties too keen.

The great dread looming ever before her, the dread of that hour when she must speak, left her very little

heart for anything dissociated with this coming event. For a girl of seventeen she was unusually thoughtful.

Life had been hard in this little cottage since her mother died, or rather she had felt its responsibilities keenly.

Life itself could not be hard where Oswald Brotherson lived; neither to man, nor woman. The cheer of some

natures possesses a divine faculty. If it can help no other way, it does so by the aid of its own light. Such was

the character of this man's temperament. The cottage was a happy place; only she never fathomed the

depths of that only. If in these days she essayed at times to do so, she gave full credit to the Dread which rose

ever before her rose like a ghost! She, Doris, led by inscrutable Fate, was waiting to hurt him who hurt

But her interest had been caught today, caught by this stranger, and when during her eager watch the small

messenger from the Works came to the door with the usual daily supply of books and magazines for the

patient, she stepped out on the porch to speak to him and to point out the gentleman who was now rapidly

"Who is that, Johnny? she asked. "You know everybody who comes to town. What is the name of the

"A queer name, he admitted at last. "I never heard the likes of it here before. Shally something. Shally

"Yes, that's it. How could you guess? He's from New York. Nobody knows why he's here. Don't seem to have

"Well, never mind. Run on, Johnny. And don't forget to come earlier tomorrow; Mr. Brotherson gets tired

"Does he? I'll come quick then; quick as I can run." And he sped off at a pace which promised well for the

Challoner! There was but one Challoner in the world for Doris Scott, Edith's father. Was this he? It must

be, or why this haunting sense of something half remembered as she caught a glimpse of his face. Edith's

father! and he was approaching, approaching rapidly, on his way back to town. Would he stop this time? As

the possibility struck her, she trembled and drew back, entering the house, but pausing in the hall with her ear

turned to the road. She had not closed the door; something within a hope or a dread had prevented that.

Would he take it as an invitation to come in? No, no; she was not ready for such an encounter yet. He might

speak Edith's name; Oswald might hear and with a gasp she recognised the closeness of his step; heard it

lag, almost halt just where the path to the house ran into the roadside. But it passed on. He was not going to

force an interview yet. She could hear him retreating further and further away. The event was not for this day,

With a sense of relief so great that she realised, for one shocked moment, the full extent of her fears, she

hastened back into the sittingroom, with her collection of books and pamphlets. A low voice greeted her. It

How she would have bounded joyously at the summons, had not that Dread raised its bony finger in every

call from that dearly loved voice. As it was, her feet moved slowly, lingering at the sound. But they carried

"See what an armful," she cried in joyous greeting, as she held out the bundle she had brought. "You will be

"I do not want the papers, Doris; not yet. There's something else which must come first. Doris, I have decided

to let you write to her. I'm so much better now, she will not feel alarmed. I must must get a word from her.

I'm starving for it. I lie here and can think of nothing else. A message one little message of six short words

would set me on my feet again. So get your paper and pen, dear child, and write her one of your prettiest

Had he loved her, he would have perceived the chill which shook her whole body, as he spoke. But his first

thought, his penetrating thought, was not for her and he saw only the answering glance, the patient smile. She

had not expected him to see more. She knew that she was quite safe from the divining look; otherwise, he

"I'm ready," said she. But she did not lay down her bundle. She was not ready for her task, poor child. She

quailed before it. She quailed so much that she feared to stir lest he should see that she had no command over

The man who watched without seeing wondered that she stood so still and spoke so briefly. But only for a

moment. He thought he understood her hesitation, and a look of great earnestness replaced his former one of

"I know that in doing this I am going beyond my sacred compact with Miss Challoner," he said. "I never

thought of illness, at least, of illness on my part. I never dreamt that I, always so well, always so full of life,

could know such feebleness as this, feebleness which is all of the body, Doris, leaving the mind free to dream

and long. Talk of her, child. Tell me all over again just how she looked and spoke that day you saw her in

"Would it not be better for me to write my letter first? Papa will be coming soon and Truda can never cook

Surprised now by something not quite natural in her manner, he caught at her hand and held her as she was

"You are tired," said he. "I've wearied you with my commission and complaints. Forgive me, dear child, and

"You are mistaken," she interrupted softly. "I am not tired; I only wished to do the important thing first. Shall

"Yes," said he, softly dropping her hand. "I wish you to write. It will ensure me good sleep, and sleep will

She nodded; turning quickly away to hide her tears. His smile had gone to her very soul. It was always a

beautiful one, his chief personal attraction, but at this moment it seemed to concentrate within it the unspoken

fervours and the boundless expectations of a great love, and she who was the aim and cause of all this

But Doris' own smile was not lacking in encouragement and beauty when she came back a few minutes later

and sat down by his side to write. His melted before it, leaving his eyes very earnest as he watched her

"I must give her daily exercises," he decided within himself. "That look of pain shows how difficult this work

is for her. It must be made easy at any cost to my time. Such beauty calls for accomplishment. I must not

Meantime, she was struggling to find words in face of that great Dread. She had written Dear Miss Challoner

and was staring in horror at the soulless words. Only her sense of duty upheld her. Gladly would she have

torn the sheet in two and rushed away. How could she add sentences to this hollow phrase, the mere

employment of which seemed a sacrilege. Dear Miss Challoner. Oh, she was dear, but

"Shall I help you?" came softly from the bed. "I'll try and not forget that it is Doris writing."

"If you will be so good," she answered, with renewed courage. "I can put the words down if you will only

"I'm cold. I've been cold all day. But never mind that, Mr. Brotherson. Tell me how to begin my letter."

" This way. 'I've not been able to answer your kind letter, because I have had to play nurse for some three or

" No," said Doris, bending over her desk till her curls fell in a tangle over her white cheeks. " I do not like to,"

she protested at last, with an attempt at naivete which seemed real enough to him.

" Well, leave out the fretful if you must, but keep in the exacting. I have been exacting, you know."

"It's down," she whispered. She said, afterward, that it was like writing with a ghost looking over one's

"Then add, 'Mr. Brotherson has had a slight attack of fever, but he is getting well fast, and will soon , Do I

As he laughed, she smiled. There was a heroism in that smile, Oswald Brotherson, of which you knew

Quietly he repeated the last phrase. "'But he is getting well fast and will soon be ready to take up the

management of the Works which was given him just before he was taken ill.' That will show her that I am

working up," he brightly remarked as Doris carefully penned the last word. "Of myself you need say nothing

more, unless " he paused and his face took on a wistful look which Doris dared not meet; "unless but no,

no, she must think it has been only a passing indisposition. If she knew I had been really ill, she would suffer,

and perhaps act imprudently or suffer and not dare to act at all, which might be sadder for her still. Leave it

where it is and begin about yourself. Write a good deal about yourself, so that she will see that you are not

worried and that all is well with us here. Cannot you do that without assistance? Surely you can tell her about

that last piece of embroidery you showed me. She will be glad to hear why, Doris!"

" Oh, Mr. Brotherson," the poor child burst out, "you must let me cry! I'm so glad to see you better and

interested in all sorts of things. These are not tears of grief. I I but I'm forgetting what the doctor told me.

You are growing excited, and I was to see that you were calm, always calm. I will take my desk away. I will

" But bring your letter back for me to seal. I want to see it in its envelope. Oh, Doris, you are a good little

She shook her head, and hastened to hide herself from him in the other room; and it was a long time before

she came back with the letter folded and in its envelope. When she did, her face was composed and her

manner natural. She had quite made up her mind what her duty was and how she was going to perform it.

"Here is the letter," said she, laying it in his outstretched hand. Then she turned her back. She knew, with a

woman's unerring instinct why he wished to handle it before it went. She felt that kiss he folded away in it, in

every fibre of her aroused and sympathetic heart, but the hardest part of the ordeal was over and her eyes

beamed softly when she turned again to take it from his hand and affix the stamp.

"You will mail it yourself?" he asked. "I should like to have you put it into the box with your own hand."

His smile of contentment assured her that this trial of her courage and selfcontrol was not without one

blessed result. He would rest for several days in the pleasure of what he had done or thought he had done. She

need not cringe before that image of Dread for two, three days at least. Meanwhile, he would grow strong in

body, and she, perhaps, in spirit. Only one precaution she must take. No hint of Mr. Challoner's presence in

town must reach him. He must be guarded from a knowledge of that fact as certainly as from the more serious

That this would be a difficult thing to do, Doris was soon to realise. Mr. Challoner continued to pass the

Doris was in the window and saw him coming. She slipped softly out and intercepted him before he had

stepped upon the porch. She had caught up her hat as she passed through the hall, and was fitting it to her

Before replying she closed the door behind her. Then as she noted his surprise she carefully explained:

"Mr. Brotherson, our boarder, is just recovering from typhoid. He is still weak and acutely susceptible to the

least noise. I was afraid that our voices might disturb him. Do you mind walking a little way up the road?

Her flush, the beauty which must have struck ever him, but more than all else her youth, seemed to reconcile

him to this unconventional request. Bowing, he took his foot from the step, saying, as she joined him:

" Yes, you are the one I wanted to see; that is, today. Later, I hope to have the privilege of a conversation

She gave him one quick look, trembling so that he offered her his arm with a fatherly air.

"I see that you understand my errand here," he proceeded, with a grave smile, meant as she knew for her

encouragement. "I am glad, because we can go at once to the point. Miss Scott," he continued in a voice from

which he no longer strove to keep back the evidences of deep feeling, "I have the strongest interest in your

patient that one man can have in another, where there is no personal acquaintanceship. You who have every

reason to understand my reasons for this, will accept the statement, I hope, as frankly as it is made."

She nodded. Her eyes were full of tears, but she did not hesitate to raise them. She had the greatest desire to

see the face of the man who could speak like this today, and yet of whose pride and sense of superiority his

daughter had stood in such awe, that she had laid a seal upon the impulses of her heart, and imposed such

tasks and weary waiting upon her lover. Doris forgot, in meeting his softened glance and tender, almost

wistful, expression, the changes which can be made by a great grief, and only wondered why her sweet

benefactress had not taken him into her confidence and thus, possibly, averted the doom which Doris felt had

" Why should she have feared the disapproval of this man?" she inwardly queried, as she cast him a confiding

"When I lost my daughter, I lost everything," he declared, as they walked slowly up the road. "Nothing

excites my interest, save that which once excited hers. I am told that the deepest interest of her life lay here. I

am also told that it was an interest quite worthy of her. I expect to find it so. I hope with all my heart to find it

so, and that is why I have come to this town and expect to linger till Mr. Brotherson has recovered

sufficiently to see me. I hope that this will be agreeable to him. I hope that I am not presuming too much in

"I cannot tell; I do not know," said she. "Nobody knows, not even the doctor, what effect the news we so

dread to give him will have upon Mr. Brotherson. You will have to wait we all shall have to wait the results

of that revelation. It cannot be kept from him much longer. When I return, I shall shrink from his first look, in

the fear of seeing it betray this dreadful knowledge. Yet I have a faithful woman there to keep every one out

"You have had much to carry for one so young," was Mr. Challoner's sympathetic remark. "You must let me

help you when that awful moment comes. I am at the hotel and shall stay there till Mr. Brotherson is

pronounced quite well. I have no other duty now in life but to sustain him through his trouble and then, with

what aid he can give, search out and find the cause of my daughter's death which I will never admit without

"It was not suicide," she declared, vehemently. "I have always felt sure that it was not; but today I KNOW."

Her hand fell clenched on her breast and her eyes gleamed strangely. Mr. Challoner was himself greatly

startled. What had happened what could have happened since yesterday that she should emphasise that now?

"I've not told any one," she went on, as he stopped short in the road, in his anxiety to understand her. "But I

will tell you. Only, not here, not with all these people driving past; most of whom know me. Come to the

house later this evening, after Mr. Brotherson's room is closed for the night. I have a little sittingroom on

the other side of the hall where we can talk without being heard. Would you object to doing that? Am I

"No, no. Oh, how those people stared! Let us hasten back or they may connect your name with what we want

He smiled at her fears, but gave in to her humour; he would see her soon again and possibly learn something

But when evening came and she turned to face him in that little sittingroom where he had quietly followed

her, he was conscious of a change in her manner which forbade these high hopes. The gleam was gone from

her eyes; the tremulous eagerness from her mobile and sensitive mouth. She had been thinking in the hours

which had passed, and had lost the confidence of that one impetuous moment. Her greeting betrayed

"I don't know what you will think of me," she ventured at last, motioning to a chair but not sitting herself.

"You have had time to think over what I said and probably expect something real, some thing you could

She gave a glance at the door before stepping up nearer. He had not taken the chair she preferred.

"Sure that I have seen the face of the man who murdered her. It was in a dream," she whisperingly completed,

"Yes; I knew that it would sound foolish to you; it sounds foolish to me. But listen, sir. Listen to what I have

to tell and then you can judge. I was very much agitated yesterday. I had to write a letter at Mr. Brotherson's

dictation a letter to her. You can understand my horror and the effort I made to hide my emotion. I was

quite unnerved. I could not sleep till morning, and then and then I saw I hope I can describe it."

Grasping at a nearby chair, she leaned on it for support, closing her eyes to all but that inner vision. A

"I see it again just as I saw it in the early morning but even more plainly, if that is possible. A hall (I

should call it a hall, though I don't remember seeing any place like it before), with a little staircase at the side,

up which there comes a man, who stops just at the top and looks intently my way. There is fierceness in his

face a look which means no good to anybody and as his hand goes to his overcoat pocket, drawing out

something which I cannot describe, but which he handles as if it were a pistol, I feel a horrible fear, and and

" The child was staggering, and the hand which was free had sought her heart where it lay clenched, the

Mr. Challoner watched her with dilated eyes, the spell under which she spoke falling in some degree upon

him. Had she finished? Was this all? No; she is speaking again, but very low, almost in a whisper.

"There is music a crash but I plainly see his other hand approach the object he is holding. He takes

something from the end the object is pointed my way I am looking into into what? I do not know. I

cannot even see him now. The space where he stood is empty. Everything fades, and I wake with a loud cry

in my ears and a sense of death here." She had lifted her hand and struck at her heart, opening her eyes as she

Mr. Challoner shuddered. This was like the reopening of his daughter's grave. But he had entered upon the

scene with a full appreciation of the ordeal awaiting him and he did not lose his calmness, or the control of

"Be seated, Miss Scott," he entreated, taking a chair himself. "You have described the spot and some of the

circumstances of my daughter's death as accurately as if you had been there. But you have doubtless read a

full account of those details in the papers; possibly seen pictures which would make the place quite real to

you. The mind is a strange storehouse. We do not always know what lies hidden within it."

"That's true," she admitted. "But the man! I had never seen the man, or any picture of him, and his face was

clearest of all. I should know it if I saw it anywhere. It is imprinted on my memory as plainly as yours. Oh, I

Mr. Challoner sighed; he had really anticipated something from the interview. The disappointment was keen.

A moment of expectation; the thrill which comes to us all under the shadow of the supernatural, and then

this! a young and imaginative girl's dream, convincing to herself but supplying nothing which had not already

been supplied both by the facts and his own imagination! A man had stood at the staircase, and this man had

raised his arm. She said that she had seen something like a pistol in his hand, but his daughter had not been

Leaning toward her that he might get her full attention, he waited till her eyes met his, then quietly asked:

"Because I've read in the papers that the man who stood there had the same name as "

"Very, very rarely. But I've no reason to think they are not on good terms. I know they correspond."

"Dreams are not revelations; they are the reproduction of what already lies hidden in the mind. I can prove

"You speak of seeing something being leveled at you which made you think of a pistol."

Doris' lovely face, with its tender lines and girlish curves, took on a strange look of conviction which

"I know that you think so; but my dream says no. I saw this object. It was pointed directly towards me

above all, I saw his face. It was the face of one whose finger is on the trigger and who means death; and I

Well, it was useless to reason further. Gentle in all else, she was immovable so for as this idea was concerned

She seemed to be quite ready for this. Anxiety about her patient had regained its place in her mind and her

glance sped constantly toward the door. Taking her hand in his, he said some kind words, then crossed to the

door and opened it. Instantly her finger flew to her lips and, obedient to its silent injunction, he took up his

hat in silence, and was proceeding down the hall, when the bell rang, startling them both and causing him to

She nodded, looking strangely troubled as the door swung open, revealing the tall, strong figure of a man

"A stranger," formed itself upon her lips, and she was moving forward, when the man suddenly stepped into

the glare of the light, and she stopped, with a murmur of dismay which pierced Mr. Challoner's heart and

"It is he! it is he! I said that I should know him wherever I saw him." Then with a quiet turn towards the

Her hands were thrust out to repel, her features were fixed; her beauty something wonderful. Orlando

Brotherson, thus met, stared for a moment at the vision before him, then slowly and with effort withdrawing

his gaze, he sought the face of Mr. Challoner with the first sign of open disturbance that gentleman had ever

"Ah," said he, " my welcome is readily understood. I see you far from home, sir." And with an ironical bow

he turned again to Doris, who had dropped her hands, but in whose cheeks the pallor still lingered in a way to

check the easy flow of words with which he might have sought to carry off the situation. "Am I in Oswald

Brotherson's house?" he asked. "I was directed here. But possibly there may be some mistake."

"It is here he lives," said she; moving back automatically till she stood again by the threshold of the small

room in which she had received Mr. Challoner. " Do you wish to see him tonight? If so, I fear it is

impossible. He has been very ill and is not allowed to receive visits from strangers."

"I am not a stranger," announced the newcomer, with a smile few could see unmoved, it offered such a

contrast to his stern and dominating figure. "I thought I heard some words of recognition which would prove

She did not answer. Her lips had parted, but her thought or at least the expression of her thought hung

suspended in the terror of this meeting for which she was not at all prepared. He seemed to note this terror,

"Mr. Brotherson must have spoken of his brother Orlando. I am he, Miss Scott. Will you let me come in

Her eyes sought those of Mr. Challoner, who quietly nodded. Immediately she stepped from before the door

which her figure had guarded and, motioning him to enter, she begged Mr. Challoner, with an imploring look,

to sustain her in the interview she saw before her. He had no desire for this encounter, especially as Mr.

Brotherson's glance in his direction had been anything but conciliatory. He was quite convinced that nothing

was to be gained by it, but he could not resist her appeal, and followed them into the little room whose

limited dimensions made the tall Orlando look bigger and stronger and more lordly in his selfconfidence

"I am sorry it is so late," she began, contemplating his intrusive figure with forced composure. "We have to

be very quiet in the evenings so as not to disturb your brother's first sleep which is of great importance to

Orlando continued to regard her with a peculiar awakening gaze, showing, Mr. Challoner thought, more

interest in her than in his brother, and when he spoke it was mechanically and as if in sole obedience to the

"I did not know he was ill till very lately. His last letter was a cheerful one, and I supposed that all was right

till chance revealed the truth. I came on at once. I was intending to come anyway. I have business here, as

"No?" The word was highly expressive; there was surprise in it and a touch of wonder, but more than all,

satisfaction. " Oswald was always closemouthed," he declared. " It's a good fault; I'm obliged to the boy."

These last words were uttered with a lightness which imposed upon his two highly agitated hearers, causing

Mr. Challoner to frown and Doris to shrink back in indignation at the man who could indulge in a sportive

suggestion in presence of such fears, if not of such memories, as the situation evoked. But to one who knew

the strong and selfcontained man to Sweetwater possibly, had he been present, there was in this very

attempt in his quiet manner and in the strange and fitful flash of his ordinarily quick eye, that which

showed he was labouring and had been labouring almost from his first entrance, under an excitement of

thought and feeling which in one of his powerfully organised nature must end and that soon in an outburst of

mysterious passion which would carry everything before it. But he did not mean that it should happen here.

He was too accustomed to selfcommand to forget himself in this presence. He would hold these rampant

dogs in leash till the hour of solitude; then a glittering smile twisted his lips as he continued to gaze, first at

the girl who had just entered his life, and then at the man he had every reason to distrust, and with that firm

restraint upon himself still in full force, remarked, with a courteous inclination:

"The hour is late for further conversation. I have a room at the hotel and will return to it at once. In the

He was going, Doris not knowing what to say, Mr. Challoner not desirous of detaining him, when there came

the sound of a little tinkle from the other side of the hall, blanching the young girl's cheeks and causing

"Say that Orlando wishes him a good night," smiled her heart's enemy, with a bow of infinite grace.

She shuddered, and was hastening from the room when her glance fell on Mr. Challoner. He was pale and

looked greatly disturbed. The prospect of being left alone with a man whom she had herself denounced to

him as his daughter's murderer, might prove a tax to his strength to which she had no right to subject him.

Pausing with an appealing air, she made him a slight gesture which he at once understood.

" I will accompany you into the hall," said he. "Then if anything is wrong, you have but to speak my name."

But Orlando Brotherson, displeased by this move, took a step which brought him between the two.

"You can hear her from here if she chooses to speak. There's a point to be settled between us before either of

us leaves this house, and this opportunity is as good as another. Go to my brother, Miss Scott; we will await

A flash from the proud banker's eye; but no demur, rather a gesture of consent. Doris, with a look of deep

It was one of those moments which men recognise as memorable. What had the one to say or the other to

hear, worthy of this preamble and the more than doubtful relation in which they stood each to each? Mr.

Challoner had more time than he expected in which to wonder and gird himself for whatever suffering or

shock awaited him. For, Orlando Brotherson, unlike his usual self, kept him waiting while he collected his

It was said honestly. They did not know each other. Mr. Challoner was quite correct in his statement.

But the other had his doubts. Why shouldn't he have? The coincidence of finding this mourner if not avenger

of Edith Challoner, in his own direct radius again, at a spot so distant, so obscure and so disconnected with

any apparent business reason, was certainly startling enough unless the tie could be found in his brother's

"Men sometimes correspond who do not know each other. You knew that a Brotherson lived here?"

"With my brother? With Oswald? What interest can you have in him apart from me? Oswald is "

Suddenly a thought name an unimaginable one; one with power to blanch even his hardy cheek and shake a

"Oswald Brotherson!" he repeated; adding in unintelligible tones to himself "O. B. The same initials! They

are following up these initials. Poor Oswald." Then aloud: "It hardly becomes me, perhaps, to question your

motives in this attempt at making my brother's acquaintance. I think I can guess them; but your labour will be

wasted. Oswald's interests do not extend beyond this town; they hardly extend to me. We are strangers,

almost. You will learn nothing from him on the subject which naturally engrosses you."

Mr. Challoner simply bowed. "I do not feel called upon," said he, "to explain my reasons for wishing to know

your brother. I will simply satisfy you upon a point which may well rouse your curiosity. You remember that

that my daughter's last act was the writing of a letter to a little protegee of hers. Miss Scott was that

protegee. In seeking her, I came upon him. Do you require me to say more on this subject? Wait till I have

Receiving no answer to this, Mr. Challoner turned again to the man who was the object of his deepest

suspicions, to find him still in the daze of that unimaginable thought, battling with it, scoffing at it,

succumbing to it and all without a word. Mr. Challoner was without clew to this struggle, but the might of it

and the mystery of it, drove him in extreme agitation from the room. Though proof was lacking, though proof

might never come, nothing could ever alter his belief from this moment on that Doris was right in her

How far he might have been carried by this new conviction; whether he would have left the house without

seeing Doris again or exchanging another word with the man whose very presence stifled him, he had no

opportunity to show, for before he had taken another step, he encountered the hurrying figure of Doris, who

"He does not know that you are here," she whispered to Mr. Challoner, as she passed him. Then, as she again

confronted Orlando who hastened to dismiss his trouble at her approach, she said quite gaily, "Mr.

Brotherson heard your voice, and is glad to know that you're here. He bade me give you this key and say that

you would have found things in better shape if he had been in condition to superintend the removal of the

boxes to the place he had prepared for you before he became ill. I was the one to do that," she added,

controlling her aversion with manifest effort. "When Mr. Brotherson came to himself he asked if I had heard

about any large boxes having arrived at the station shipped to his name. I said that several notices of such had

come to the house. At which he requested me to see that they were carried at once to the strange looking shed

he had had put up for him in the woods. I thought that they were for him, and I saw to the thing myself. Two

or three others have come since and been taken to the same place. I think you will find nothing broken or

But Orlando Brotherson was not himself, not at all himself as he bowed a formal adieu and past the

drawnup sentinellike figure of Mr. Challoner, without a motion on his part or on the part of that gentleman

It is not difficult to understand Mr. Challoner's feelings or even those of Doris at the moment of Mr.

Brotherson's departure. But why this change in Brotherson himself? Why this sense of something new and

terrible rising between him and the suddenly beclouded future? Let us follow him to his lonely hotelroom

But first, does he understand his own trouble? He does not seem to. For when, his hat thrown aside, he stops,

erect and frowning under the flaring gasjet he had no recollection of lighting, his first act was to lift his hand

to his head in a gesture of surprising helplessness for him, while snatches of broken sentences fell from his

"What has come to me? Undone in an hour! Doubly undone! First by a face and then by this thought which

surely the devils have whispered to me. Mr. Challoner and Oswald! What is the link between them? Great

Flinging himself into a chair, he buried his face in his hands. There were two demons to fight the first in the

guise of an angel. Doris! Unknown yesterday, unknown an hour ago; but now! Had there ever been a day

an hour when she had not been as the very throb of his heart, the light of his eyes, and the crown or all

He was startled at his own emotion as he contemplated her image in his fancy and listened for the lost echo of

the few words she had spoken words so full of music when they referred to his brother, so hard and cold

This was no passing admiration of youth for a captivating woman. This was not even the love he had given to

Edith Challoner. This was something springing fullborn out of nothing! a force which, for the first time in

his life, made him complaisant to the natural weaknesses of man! a dream and yet a reality strong enough to

blot out the past, remake the present, change the aspect of all his hopes, and outline a new fate. He did not

know himself. There was nothing in his whole history to give him an understanding of such feelings as these.

Can a man be seized as it were by the hair, and swung up on the slopes of paradise or down the steeps of hell

without a forewarning, without the chance even to say whether he wished such a cataclysm in his life or

He, Orlando Brotherson, had never thought much of love. Science had been his mistress; ambition his

lodestar. Such feeling as he had acknowledged to had been for men struggling men, men who were

downtrodden and gasping in the narrow bounds of poverty and helplessness. Miss Challoner had roused

well, his pride. He could see that now. The might of this new emotion made plain many things he had passed

by as useless, puerile, unworthy of a man of mental calibre and might. He had never loved Edith Challoner at

any moment of their acquaintanceship, though he had been sincere in thinking that he did. Doris' beauty, the

Did he hail the experience? It was not likely to bring him joy. This young girl whose image floated in light

before his eyes, would never love him. She loved his brother. He had heard their names mentioned together

before he had been in town an hour. Oswald, the cleverest man, Doris, the most beautiful girl in Western

He had accepted the gossip then; he had not seen her and it all seemed very natural; hardly worth a

And here, the other Demon sprang erect and grappled with him before the first one had let go his hold.

Oswald and Challoner! The secret, unknown something which had softened that hard man's eye when his

brother's name was mentioned! He had noted it and realised the mystery; a mystery before which sleep and

rest must fly; a mystery to which he must now give his thought, whatever the cost, whatever the loss to those

heavenly dreams the magic of which was so new it seemed to envelope him in the balm of Paradise. Away,

then, image of light! Let the faculties thou hast dazed, act again. There is more than Fate's caprice in

Challoner's interest in a man he never saw. Ghosts of old memories rise and demand a hearing. Facts, trivial

and commonplace enough to have been lost in oblivion with the day which gave them birth, throng again

from the past, proving that nought dies without a possibility of resurrection. Their power over this brooding

man is shown by the force with which his fingers crush against his bowed forehead. Oswald and Challoner!

Had he found the connecting link? Had it been could it have been Edith? The preposterous is sometimes

He recalled the letters read to him as hers in that room of his in Brooklyn. He had hardly noted them then, he

was so sure of their being forgeries, gotten up by the police to mislead him. Could they have been real, the

effusions of her mind, the breathings of her heart, directed to an actual 0. B., and that 0. B., his brother? They

had not been meant for him. He had read enough of the mawkish lines to be sure of that. None of the

allusions fitted in with the facts of their mutual intercourse. But they might with those of another man; they

might with the possible acts and affections of Oswald whose temperament was wholly different from his and

who might have loved her, should it ever be shown that they had met and known each other. And this was not

an impossibility. Oswald had been east, Oswald had even been in the Berkshires before himself. Oswald Why

it was Oswald who had suggested that he should go there go where she still was. Why this second

coincidence, if there were no tie if the Challoners and Oswald were as far apart as they seemed and as

conventionalities would naturally place them. Oswald was a sentimentalist, but very reserved about his

sentimentalities. If these suppositions were true, he had had a sentimentalist's motive for what he did. As

Orlando realised this, he rose from his seat, aghast at the possibilities confronting him from this line of

thought. Should he contemplate them? Risk his reason by dwelling on a supposition which might have no

foundation in fact? No. His brain was too full his purposes too important for any unnecessary strain to be

put upon his faculties. No thinking! investigation first. Mr. Challoner should be able to settle this question.

He would see him. Even at this late hour he ought to be able to find him in one of the rooms below; and, by

they force of an irresistible demand, learn in a moment whether he had to do with a mere chimera of his own

overwrought fancy, or with a fact which would call into play all the resources of an hitherto unconquered and

There was a woodfire burning in the sittingroom that night, and around it was grouped a number of men

with their papers and pipes. Mr. Brotherson, entering, naturally looked that way for the man he was in search

of, and was disappointed not to find him there; but on casting his glances elsewhere, he was relieved to see

him standing in one of the windows overlooking the street. His back was to the room and he seemed to be

As Orlando crossed to him, he had time to observe how much whiter was this man's head than in the last

interview he had held with him in the coroner's office in New York. But this evidence of grief in one with

whom he had little, if anything, in common, neither touched his feelings nor deterred his step. The awakening

of his heart to new and profound emotions had not softened him towards the sufferings of others if those

others stood without the pale he had previously raised as the legitimate boundary of a just man's sympathies.

He was, as I have said, an extraordinary specimen of manly vigour in body and in mind, and his presence in

any company always attracted attention and roused, if it never satisfied, curiosity. Conversation accordingly

ceased as he strode up to Mr. Challoner's side, so that his words were quite audible as he addressed that

"You see me again, Mr. Challoner. May I beg of you a few minutes' further conversation? I will not detain

The grey head turned, and the many eyes watching showed surprise at the expression of dislike and repulsion

with which this New York gentleman met the request thus emphatically urged. But his answer was courteous

enough. If Mr. Brotherson knew a place where they would be left undisturbed, he would listen to him if he

For reply, the other pointed to a small room quite unoccupied which opened out of the one in which they then

stood. Mr. Challoner bowed and in an other moment the door dosed upon them, to the infinite disappointment

"This; I make no apologies and expect in answer nothing more than an unequivocal yes or no. You tell me

that you have never met my brother. Can that be said of the other members of your family of your deceased

"He wrote to her occasionally. She wrote to him frequently but she never sent her letters."

The exclamation was sharp, short and conveyed little. Yet with its escape, the whole scaffolding of this man's

hold upon life and his own fate went down in indistinguishable chaos. Mr. Challoner realised a sense of

havoc, though the eyes bent upon his countenance had not wavered, nor the stalwart figure moved.

"I have read some of those letters," the inventor finally acknowledged. "The police took great pains to place

them under my eye, supposing them to have been meant for me because of the initials written on the wrapper.

"It is. Providence has robbed me of my daughter; if this brother of yours should prove to be the man I am led

to expect, I shall ask him to take that place in my heart and life which was once hers."

A quick recoil, a smothered exclamation on the part of the man he addressed. A barb had been hidden in this

simple statement which had reached some deeplyhidden but vulnerable spot in Brotherson's breast, which

had never been pierced before. His eye which alone seemed alive, still rested piercingly upon that of Mr.

Challoner, but its light was fast fading, and speedily became lost in a dimness in which the other seemed to

see extinguished the last upflaring embers of those inner fires which feed the aspiring soul. It was a sight no

man could see unmoved. Mr. Challoner turned sharply away, in dread of the abyss which the next word he

But Orlando Brotherson possessed resources of strength of which, possibly, he was not aware himself. When

Mr. Challoner, still more affected by the silence than by the dread I have mentioned, turned to confront him

again, it was to find his features composed and his glance clear. He had conquered all outward manifestation

"You are considerate of my brother," were the words with which he reopened this painful conversation. "

You will not find your confidence misplaced. Oswald is a straightforward fellow, of few faults."

"I believe it. No man can be so universally beloved without some very substantial claims to regard. I am glad

to see that your opinion, though given somewhat coldly, coincides with that of his friends."

The flush which had come into Mr. Challoner's cheek under the effort he had made to sustain with

unflinching heroism this interview with the man he looked upon as his mortal enemy, slowly faded out till he

looked the wraith of himself even to the unsympathetic eyes of Orlando Brotherson. A duty lay before him

which would tax to its utmost extent his already greatly weakened selfcontrol. Nothing which had yet

passed showed that this man realised the fact that Oswald had been kept in ignorance of Miss Challoner's

death. If these brothers were to meet on the morrow, it must be with the full understanding that this especial

topic was to be completely avoided. But in what words could he urge such a request upon this man? None

suggested themselves, yet he had promised Miss Scott that he would ensure his silence in this regard, and it

was with this difficulty and no other he had been struggling when Mr. Brotherson came upon him in the other

"You have still something to say," suggested the latter, as an oppressive silence swallowed up that icy

"I have," returned Mr. Challoner, regaining his courage under the exigencies of the moment. "Miss Scott is

very anxious to have your promise that you will avoid all disagreeable topics with your brother till the doctor

"He is not as unhappy as we. He knows nothing of the affliction which has befallen him. He was taken ill "

But Orlando Brotherson had no difficulty in understanding him, and for the second time in this extraordinary

interview, he gave evidences of agitation and of a mind shaken from its equipoise. But only for an instant. He

did not shun the other's gaze or even maintain more than a momentary silence. Indeed, he found strength to

"Do you think I should be apt to broach this subject with any one, let alone with him, whose connection with

it I shall need days to realise? I'm not so given to gossip. Besides, he and I have other topics of interest. I have

an invention ready with which I propose to experiment in a place he has already prepared for me. We can talk

The irony, the hardy selfpossession with which this was said struck Mr. Challoner to the heart. Without a

word he wheeled about towards the door. Without a word, Brotherson stood, watching him go till he saw his

"Unhappy truths cannot be long concealed. How soon does the doctor think my brother can bear these

"He said this morning that if his patient were as well tomorrow as his present condition gives promise of, he

Mr. Challoner looked up, surprised at the feeling with which this request was charged.

"As his brother his only remaining relative, I have that right. Do you think that Dor that Miss Scott, can

be trusted not to forestall that moment by any previous hint of what awaits him?"

"If she so promises. But will you exact this from her? It surely cannot be necessary for me to say that your

"Yet it is a duty I cannot shirk. I will consult the doctor about it. I will make him see that I both understand

and shall insist upon my rights in this matter. But you may tell Miss Doris that I will sit out of sight, and that

"Mr. Brotherson, I can bear no more tonight. With your permission, I will leave this question to be settled

by others." And with a repetition of his former bow, the bereaved father withdrew.

But it was on again, when in a little while he passed through the sittingroom on his way upstairs.

No other day in his whole life had been like this to the hardy inventor; for in it both his heart and his

conscience had been awakened, and up to this hour he had not really known that he possessed either.

Other boxes addressed to 0. Brotherson had been received at the station, and carried to the mysterious shed in

the woods; and now, with locked door and lifted top, the elder brother contemplated his stores and prepared

He had been allowed a short interview with Oswald, and he had indulged himself in a few words with Doris.

But he had left those memories behind with other and more serious matters. Nothing that could unnerve his

hand or weaken his insight should enter this spot sacred to his great hope. Here genius reigned. Here he was

himself wholly and without flaw; a Titan with his grasp on a mechanical idea by means of which he would

Not so happy were the other characters in this drama. Oswald's thoughts, disturbed for a short time by the

somewhat constrained interview he had held with his brother, had flown eastward again, in silent love and

longing; while Doris, with a double dread now in her heart, went about her daily tasks, praying for strength to

endure the horrors of this week, without betraying the anxieties secretly devouring her. And she was only

seventeen and quite alone in her trouble. She must bear it all unassisted and smile, which she did with

heavenly sweetness, when the magic threshold was passed and she stood in her invalid's presence,

And Mr. Challoner? Let those endless walks of his through the woods and over the hills tell his story if they

can; or his rapidly whitening hair, and lagging step. He had been a strong man before his trouble, and had the

stroke which laid him low been limited to one quick, sharp blow he might have risen above it after a while

and been ready to encounter life again. But this long drawn out misery was proving too much for him. The

sight of Brotherson, though they never really met, acted like acid upon a wound, and it was not till six days

had passed and the dreaded Sunday was at hand, that he slept with any sense of rest or went his way about the

town without that halting at the corners which betrayed his perpetual apprehension of a most undesirable

The reason for this change will be apparent in the short conversation he held with a man he had come upon

"Thank God," was Mr. Challoner's reply. "I could not have faced tomorrow alone and I doubt if Miss Scott

"I think so. Mr. Brotherson the Brooklyn one, is up in his shed. He sleeps there now, I am told, and

"What half the inventors on both sides of the water are engaged upon just now. A monoplane, or a biplane, or

some machine for carrying men through the air. I know, for I helped him with it. But you'll find that if he

succeeds in this undertaking, and I believe he will, nothing short of fame awaits him. His invention has

startling points. But I'm not going to give them away. I'll be true enough to him for that. As an inventor he

has my sympathy; but Well, we will see what we shall see, tomorrow. You say that he is bound to be

present when Miss Scott relates her tragic story. He won't be the only unseen listener. I've made my own

arrangements with Miss Scott. If he feels the need of watching her and his brother Oswald, I feel the need of

"You take a burden of intolerable weight from my shoulders. Now I shall feel easier about that interview. But

I should like to ask you this: Do you feel justified in this continued surveillance of a man who has so

"I do that. If he's as guiltless as he says he is, my watchfulness won't hurt him. If he's not, then, Mr.

Challoner, I've but one duty; to match his strength with my patience. That man is the one great mystery of the

day, and mysteries call for solution. At least, that's the way a detective looks at it."

"I shall need its assistance," was the dry rejoinder. Sweetwater was by no means blind to the difficulties

The day was a grey one, the first of the kind in weeks. As Doris stepped into the room where Oswald sat, she

felt how much a ray of sunshine would have encouraged her and yet how truly these leaden skies and this

dismal atmosphere expressed the gloom which soon must fall upon this hopeful, smiling man.

He smiled because any man must smile at the entrance of so lovely a woman, but it was an abstracted smile,

and Doris, seeing it, felt her courage falter for a moment, though her steps did not, nor her steady

compassionate gaze. Advancing slowly, and not answering because she did not hear some casual remark of

his, she took her stand by his side and then slowly and with her eyes on his face, sank down upon her knees,

His astonishment was evident, for her air was strange and full of presage, as, indeed, she had meant it to be.

But he remained as silent as she, only reached out his emaciated hand and, laying it on her head, smiled again

but this time far from abstractedly. Then, as he saw her cheeks pale in terror of the task before her, he

"Are you quite strong this morning? Strong enough to listen to my troubles; strong enough to bear your own

if God sees fit to send them?" came hesitatingly from her lips as she watched the effect of each word, in

"Troubles? There can be but one trouble for me," was his unexpected reply. "That I do not fear will not fear

in my hour of happy recovery. So long as Edith is well Doris! Doris! You alarm me. Edith is not ill; not

The poor child could not answer save with her sympathetic look and halting, tremulous breath; and these

signs, he would not, could not read, his own words had made such an echo in his ears.

"Ill! I cannot imagine Edith ill. I always see her in my thoughts, as I saw her on that day of our first meeting;

a perfect, animated woman with the joyous look of a glad, harmonious nature. Nothing has ever clouded that

vision. If she were ill I would have known it. We are so truly one that Doris, Doris, you do not speak. You

The eyes gazing wildly into his, slowly left his face and raised themselves aloft, with a sublime look. Would

he understand? Yes, he understood, and the cry which rang from his lips stopped for a moment the beating of

"Dead!" he shrieked out, and fell back fainting in his chair, his lips still murmuring in semiunconsciousness,

Doris sprang to her feet, thinking of nothing but his wavering, slipping life till she saw his breath return, his

eyes refill with light. Then the horror of what was yet to come the answer which must be given to the how

she saw trembling on his lips, caused her to sink again upon her knees in an unconscious appeal for strength.

But the rest must be told; his brother exacted it and so did the situation. Further waiting, further hiding of the

truth would be insupportable after this. But oh, the bitterness of it! No wonder that she turned away from

She trembled and looked behind her. She had not recognised his voice. Had another entered? Had his brother

dared No, they were alone; seemingly so, that is. She knew, no one better that they were not really

"Doris," he urged again, and this time she turned in his direction and gazed, aghast. If the voice were strange,

what of the face which now confronted her. The ravages of sickness had been marked, but they were nothing

to those made in an instant by a blasting grief. She was startled, although expecting much, and could only

press his hands while she waited for the question he was gathering strength to utter. It was simple when it

"Just as long as you have been ill," said she; then, with no attempt to break the inevitable shock, she went on:

Miss Challoner was struck dead and you were taken down with typhoid on the selfsame day."

"Struck dead! Why do you use that word, struck? Struck dead! she, a young woman. Oh, Doris, an accident!

"They do not call it accident. They call it what it never was. What it never was," she insisted, pressing him

back with frightened hands, as he strove to rise. " Miss Challoner was " How nearly the word shot had left

her lips. How fiercely above all else, in that harrowing moment had risen the desire to fling the accusation of

that word into the ears of him who listened from his secret hidingplace. But she refrained out of compassion

for the man she loved, and declared instead, "Miss Challoner died from a wound; how given, why given, no

one knows. I had rather have died myself than have to tell you this. Oh, Mr. Brotherson, speak, sob, do

She started back, dropping his hands as she did so. With quick intuition she saw that he must be left to

himself if he were to meet this blow without succumbing. The body must have freedom if the spirit would not

go mad. Conscious, or perhaps not conscious, of his release from her restraining hand, albeit profiting by it,

he staggered to his feet, murmuring that word of doom: "Wound! wound! my darling died of a wound! What

kind of a wound?" he suddenly thundered out. "I cannot understand what you mean by wound. Make it clear

to me. Make it clear to me at once. If I must bear this grief, let me know its whole depth. Leave nothing to my

"She was on the mezzanine floor of the hotel where she lives. She was seemingly happy and had been writing

a letter a letter to me which they never forwarded. There was no one else by but some strangers good

people whom one must believe. She was crossing the floor when suddenly she threw up her hands and fell. A

thin, narrow papercutter was in her grasp; and it flew into the lobby. Some say she struck herself with that

cutter; for when they picked her up they found a wound in her breast which that cutter might have made."

The words were chokingly said; he was swaying, almost falling, but he steadied himself.

"Nothing of threat, they say. Only just cheer and expressions of hope. Just like the others, Mr. Brotherson."

"And they accuse her of taking her own life? Their verdict is a lie. They did not know her."

Then, after some moments of wild and confused feeling, he declared, with a desperate effort at selfcontrol:

"You said that some believe this. Then there must be others who do not. What do they say?"

"Nothing. They simply feel as you do. They see no reason for the act and no evidence of her having

meditated it. Her father and her friend insist besides, that she was incapable of such a horror. The mystery of

it is killing us all; me above others, for I've had to show you a cheerful face, with my brain reeling and my

She held out her hands. She tried to draw his attention to herself; not from any sentiment of egotism, but to

break, if she could, the strain of these insupportable horrors where so short a time before Hope sang and Life

Perhaps some faint realisation of this reached him, for presently he caught her by the hands and bowed his

"The two " He was on his feet again, but only for a moment; his weakness was greater than his will power.

"Orlando and Oswald Brotherson," she explained, in answer to his broken appeal. "Your brother wrote letters

to her as well as you, and signed them just as you did, with his initials only. These letters were found in her

desk, and he was supposed, for a time, to have been the author of all that were so signed. But they found out

the difference after awhile. Yours were easily recognised after they learned there was another O. B. who

The words were plain enough, but the stricken listener did not take them in. They carried no meaning to him.

How should they? The very idea she sought to impress upon him by this seemingly careless allusion was an

incredible one. She found it her dreadful task to tell him the hard, bare truth.

"Your brother," said she, "was devoted to Miss Challoner, too. He even wanted to marry her. I cannot keep

"Orlando?" His lips took an ironical curve, as he uttered the word. This was a young girl's imaginative fancy

The name produced its effect. He stared, made an effort to think, repeated Lenox over to himself; then

suddenly lost his hold upon the idea which that word suggested, struggled again for it, seized it in an instant

Poor Doris, frightened to her very soul, looked blindly about for help; but she did not quit his side; she did

not dare to, for his lips had reopened; the continuity of his thoughts had returned; he was going to speak.

"I sent him there." The words came in a sort of shout. "I was so hungry to hear of her and I thought he might

mention her in his letter. Insane! Insane! He saw her and What's that you said about his loving her? He

couldn't have loved her; he's not of the loving sort. They've deceived you with strange tales. They've deceived

the whole world with fancies and mad dreams. He may have admired her, but loved her, no! or if he had, he

A laugh; a laugh which paled Doris' cheek; them his tones grew even again, memory came back and he

"That is true. I said nothing to him. He had the right to court her and he did, you say; wrote: to her; imposed

himself upon her, drove her mad with importunities she was forced to rebuke; and and what else? There is

He was standing now, his feebleness all gone, passion in every lineament and his eye alive and feverish, with

emotion. "Tell me," he repeated, with unrestrained vehemence. " Tell me all. Kill me with sorrow but save

Doris paused; the sentence hung suspended. She had heard a step a hand on the door.

Oswald had heard nothing, seen nothing. But he took note of Doris' silence, and turning towards her in frenzy

saw what had happened, and so was in a measure prepared for the stern, short sentence which now rang

"Wait, Miss Scott! you tell the story badly. Let him listen to me. >From my mouth only shall he hear the

The face of Oswald hardened. Those pliant features beloved for their gracious kindliness set themselves

in lines which altered them almost beyond recognition; but his voice was not without some of its natural

sweetness, as, after a long and hollow look at the other's composed countenance, he abruptly exclaimed:

Oswald raised his hand and checked the words with which he would have begun his story.

"Never mind the beginnings," said he. "Doris has told all that. You saw Miss Challoner in Lenox admired

her offered yourself to her and afterwards wrote her a threatening letter because she rejected you."

"It is true. Other men have followed just such unworthy impulses and been ashamed and sorry afterwards. I

was sorry and I was ashamed, and as soon as my first anger was over went to tell her so. But she mistook my

Orlando hesitated. Even his iron nature trembled before the misery he saw a misery he was destined to

augment rather than soothe. With pains altogether out of keeping with his character, he sought in the recesses

of his darkened mind for words less bitter and less abrupt than those which sprang involuntarily to his lips.

But he did not find them. Though he pitied his brother and wished to show that he did, nothing but the stern

"And ended the pitiful struggle of the moment with one quick, unpremeditated blow," was what he said.

"There is no other explanation possible for this act, Oswald. Bitter as it is for me to acknowledge it, I am thus

far guilty of this beloved woman's death. But, as God hears me, from the moment I first saw her, to the

moment I saw her last, I did not know, nor did I for a moment dream that she was anything to you or to any

other man of my stamp and station. I thought she despised my country birth, my mechanical attempts, my

"Now that I know she had other reasons for her contempt that the words she wrote were in rebuke to the

brother rather than to the man, I feel my guilt and deplore my anger. I cannot say more. I should but insult

A groan of intolerable anguish from the sick man's lips, and then the quick thrust of his reawakened

"For a woman of Edith's principle to seek death in a moment of desperation, the provocation must have been

very great. Tell me if I'm to hate you through life yea through all eternity or if I must seek in some

unimaginable failure of my own character or conduct the cause of her intolerable despair."

"Oswald!" The tone was controlling, and yet that of one strong man to another. "Is it for us to read the heart

of any woman, least of all of a woman of her susceptibilities and keen inner life? The wish to end all comes

to some natures like a lightning flash from a clear sky. It comes, it goes, often without leaving a sign. But if a

weapon chances to be near (here it was in hand) then death follows the impulse which, given an instant of

thought, would have vanished in a back sweep of other emotions. Chance was the real accessory to this death

by suicide. Oswald, let us realise it as such and accept our sorrow as a mutual burden and turn to what

remains to us of life and labour. Work is grief's only consolation. Then let us work."

"Then seek your comfort there. I find it in harnessing the winds; in forcing the powers of nature to do my

The other did not speak, and the silence grew heavy. It was broken, when it was broken, by a cry from

Orlando started. This name coming so close upon that word comfort produced a strange effect upon him. But

another look at Oswald and he was ready to do his bidding. The bitter ordeal was over; let him have his

Orlando, upon leaving his brother's room, did not stop to deliver that brother's message directly to Doris; he

left this for Truda to do, and retired immediately to his hangar in the woods. Locking himself in, he slightly

raised the roof and then sat down before the car which was rapidly taking on shape and assuming that

individuality and appearance of sentient life which hitherto he had only seen in dreams. But his eye, which

had never failed to kindle at this sight before, shone dully in the semigloom. The aircar could wait; he

would first have his hour in this solitude of his own making. The gaze he dreaded, the words from which he

shrank could not penetrate here. He might even shout her name aloud, and only these windowless walls

He needed to be. The strongest must pause when the precipice yawns before him. The gulf can be spanned;

he feels himself forceful enough for that; but his eyes must take their measurement of it first; he must know

its depths and possible dangers. Only a fool would ignore these steeps of jagged rock; and he was no fool,

only a man to whom the unexpected had happened, a man who had seen his way clear to the horizon and then

had come up against this! Love, when he thought such folly dead! Remorse, when Glory called for the quiet

He recognised its mordant fang, and knew that its ravages, though only just begun, would last his lifetime.

Nothing could stop them now, nothing, nothing. And he laughed, as the thought went home; laughed at the

irony of fate and its inexorableness; laughed at his own defeat and his nearness to a barred Paradise. Oswald

loved Edith, loved her yet, with a flame time would take long to quench. Doris loved Oswald and he Doris;

and not one of them would ever attain the delights each was so fitted to enjoy. Why shouldn't he laugh? What

is left to man but mockery when all props fall? Disappointment was the universal lot; and it should go merrily

with him if he must take his turn at it. But here the strong spirit of the man reasserted itself; it should be but

a turn. A man's joys are not bounded by his loves or even by the satisfaction of a perfectly untrammelled

mind. Performance makes a world of its own for the capable and the strong, and this was still left to him. He,

Orlando Brotherson, despair while his great work lay unfinished! That would be to lay stress on the inevitable

pains and fears of commonplace humanity. He was not of that ilk. Intellect was his god; ambition his motive

power. What would this casual blight upon his supreme contentment be to him, when with the wings of his

aircar spread, he should spurn the earth and soar into the heaven of fame simultaneously with his flight into

He could wait for that hour. He had measured the gulf before him and found it passable. Henceforth no

Rising, he stood for a moment gazing, with an alert eye now, upon such sections of his car as had not yet

been fitted into their places; then he bent forward to his work, and soon the lips which had uttered that

sardonic laugh a few minutes before, parted in gentler fashion, and song took the place of curses a ballad of

love and fondest truth. But Orlando never knew what he sang. He had the gift and used it.

Would his tones, however, have rung out with quite so mellow a sweetness had he seen the restless figure

even then circling his retreat with eyes darting accusation and arms lifted towards him in wild but impotent

Yes, I think they would; for he knew that the man who thus expressed his helplessness along with his

convictions, was no nearer the end he had set himself to attain than on the day he first betrayed his

That night Oswald was taken very ill. For three days his life hung in the balance, then youth and healthy

living triumphed over shock and bereavement, and he came slowly back to his sad and crippled existence.

He had been conscious for a week or more of his surroundings, and of his bitter sorrows as well, when one

morning he asked Doris whose face it was he had seen bending over him so often during the last week: "Have

you a new doctor? A man with white hair and a comforting smile? Or have I dreamed this face? I have had so

"No, it is not a fancy," was the quiet reply. "Nor is it the face of a doctor. It is that of friend. One whose heart

"I don't know him, Doris. It's a strange face to me. And yet, it's not altogether strange. Who is this man and

"Because you share one love and one grief. It is Edith's father whom you see at your bedside. He has helped

"Yes, Mr. Challoner has been in Derby for the last two weeks. He has only one interest now; to see you well

Doris caught the note of pain, if not suspicion, in this query, and smiled as she asked in turn:

"Shall he answer that question himself? He is waiting to come in. Not to talk. You need not fear his talking.

The sick man closed his eyes, and Doris watching, saw the flush rise to his emaciated cheek, then slowly fade

away again to a pallor that frightened her. Had she injured where she would heal? Had she pressed too

suddenly and too hard on the ever gaping wound in her invalid's breast? She gasped in terror at the thought,

then she faintly smiled, for his eyes had opened again and showed a calm determination as he said:

"I should like to see him. I should like him to answer the question I have just put you. I should rest easier and

This latter he half whispered, and Doris, tripping from the room may not have heard it, for her face showed

no further shadow as she ushered in Mr. Challoner, and closed the door behind him. She had looked forward

to this moment for days. To Oswald, however, it was an unexpected excitement and his voice trembled with

something more than physical weakness as he greeted his visitor and thanked him for his attentions.

"Doris says that you have shown me this kindness from the desire you have to see me well again Mr.

"You must have serious reasons for feeling so reasons which I do not quite understand. May I ask why you

place such value upon a life which, if ever useful to itself or others, has lost and lost forever, the one delight

It was for Mr. Challoner's voice to tremble now, as reaching out his hand, he declared, with unmistakable

"I have no son. I have no interest left in life, outside this room and the possibilities it contains for me. Your

attachment to my daughter has created a bond between us, Mr. Brotherson, which I sincerely hope to see

Startled and deeply moved, the young man stretched out a shaking hand towards his visitor, with the feeble

"Then you do not blame me for her wretched and mysterious death. You hold me guiltless of the misery

Oswald's wan and pinched features took on a beautiful expression and Mr. Challoner no longer wondered at

"Thank God!" fell from the sick man's lips, and then there was a silence during which their two hands met.

"I must confide to you certain facts. I honoured your daughter and realised her position fully. Our plight was

never made in words, nor should I have presumed to advance any claim to her hand if I had not made good

my expectations, Mr. Challoner. I meant to win both her regard and yours by acts, not words. I felt that I had

a great deal to do and I was prepared to work and wait. I loved her " He turned away his head and the

silence which filled up the gap, united those two hearts, as the old and young are seldom united.

But when a little later, Mr. Challoner rejoined Doris, in her little sittingroom, he nevertheless showed a

perplexity she had hoped to see removed by this understanding with the younger Brotherson.

"These brothers hold by each other," said he. "Oswald will hear nothing against Orlando. He says that he has

redeemed his fault. He does not even protest that his brother's word is to be believed in this matter. He does

not seem to think that necessary. He evidently regards Orlando's personality as speaking as truly and

"He does not know all our reasons for distrust. He has heard nothing about the poor washerwoman."

"His confidence in his older brother is sublime. I do not share it; but I cannot help but respect him for it."

It was warmly said, and Mr. Challoner could not forbear casting an anxious look at her upturned face. What

"This confidence has for me a very unhappy side," he remarked. "It shows me Oswald's thought. He who

"He has not had my dream," she murmured, with all the quiet of an unmoved conviction.

Yet as the days went by, even her manner changed towards the busy inventor. It was hardly possible for it not

to. The high stand he took; the regard accorded him on every side; his talent; his conversation, which was an

education in itself, and, above all, his absorption in a work daily advancing towards completion, removed him

so insensibly and yet so decidedly, from the hideous past of tragedy with which his name, if not his honour,

was associated, that, unconsciously to herself, she gradually lost her icy air of repulsion and lent him a more

or less attentive ear, when he chose to join their small company of an evening. The result was that he turned

so bright a side upon her that toleration merged from day to day into admiration and memory lost itself in

anticipation of the event which was to prove him a man of men, if not one of the world's greatest mechanical

Meantime, Oswald was steadily improving in health, if not in spirits. He had taken his first walk without any

unfavourable results, and Orlando decided from this that the time had come for an explanation of his device

and his requirements in regard to it. Seated together in Oswald's room, he broached the subject thus:

"It is an aircar with a new and valuable idea the idea for which the whole world has been seeking ever

since the first aeroplane found its way up from the earth. My car needs no room to start in save that which it

As Oswald thus gave expression to his surprise, their two faces were a study: the fire of genius in the one; the

"If this car, now within three days of its completion," Orlando proceeded, " does not rise from the oval of my

hangar like a bird from its nest, and after a wide and circling flight descend again into the self same spot

without any swerving from its direct course, then have I failed in my endeavour and must take a back seat

with the rest. But it will not fail. I'm certain of success, Oswald. All I want just now is a sympathetic helper

you, for instance; someone who will aid me with the final fittings and hold his peace to all eternity if the

"Not when attached to my name. You can see how I feel about that by the secrecy I have worked under. No

other person living knows what I have just communicated to you. Every part shipped here came from

different manufacturing firms; sometimes a part of a part was all I allowed to be made in any one place. My

fame, like my ship, must rise with one bound into the air, or it must never rise at all. It was not made for petty

accomplishment, or the slow plodding of commonplace minds. I must startle, or remain obscure. That is why

"The time's too short. A month is scarcely sufficient. It would be folly, such as you never show, to trust a

nerve so undermined as mine till time has restored its power. For an enterprise like this you need a man of

ready strength and resources; not one whose condition you might be obliged to consider at a very critical

"You do not do justice to your will. It is strong enough to carry you through anything."

Oswald smiled; his whole candid and generous nature bursting into view, in one quick flash.

"Perhaps," he assented; "but you will thank me when you realise my weakness. Another man must be found

quick, deft, secret, yet honourably alive to the importance of the occasion and your rights as a great original

Oswald looked surprised. He would like to have asked why such precipitation was necessary, but their tone in

which this ultimatum was given was of that decisive character which admits of no argument. He, therefore,

merely looked his query. But Orlando was not one to answer looks; besides, he had no reply for the same

importunate question urged by his own good sense. He knew that he must make the attempt upon which his

future rested soon, and without risk of the sapping influence of lengthened suspense and weeks of waiting. He

could hold on to those two demons leagued in attack against him, for a definite seven days, but not for an

indeterminate time. If he were to be saved from folly, from himself events must rush.

He, therefore, repeated his no, with increased vehemence, adding, as he marked the reproach in his brother's

eye, "I cannot wait. The test must be made on Saturday evening next, whatever the conditions; whatever the

weather. An aircar to be serviceable must be ready to meet lightning and tempest, and what is worse,

perhaps, an insufficient crew." Then rising, he exclaimed, with a determination which rendered him majestic,

"If help is not forthcoming, I'll do it all myself. Nothing shall hold me back; nothing shall stop me; and when

you see me and my car rise above the treetops, you'll feel that I have done what I could to make you forget

He did not need to continue. Oswald understood and flashed a grateful look his way before saying:

"I will run over in my mind the qualifications of such men as I know and acquaint you with the result

"And he must be likable. I can do nothing with a man with whom I'm not perfectly in accord."

"Goodnight then." A moment of hesitancy, then, "I wish not only yourself but Miss Scott to be present at

this test. Prepare her for the spectacle; but not yet, not till within an hour or two of the occasion."

And with a proud smile in which flashed a significance which startled Oswald, he gave a hurried nod and

When in an hour afterwards, Doris looked in through the open door, she found Oswald sitting with face

buried in his hands, thinking so deeply that he did not hear her. He had sat like this, immovable and absorbed,

Oswald did not succeed in finding a man to please Orlando. He suggested one person after another to the

exacting inventor, but none were satisfactory to him and each in turn was turned down. It is not every one we

want to have share a worldwide triumph or an ignominious defeat. And the days were passing.

He had said in a moment of elation, "I will do it alone;" but he knew even then that he could not. Two hands

were necessary to start the car; afterwards, he might manage it alone. Descent was even possible, but to give

the contrivance its first lift required a second mechanician. Where was he to find one to please him? And

what was he to do if he did not? Conquer his prejudices against such men as he had seen, or delay the

attempt, as Oswald had suggested, till he could get one of his old cronies on from New York. He could do

neither. The obstinacy of his nature was such as to offer an invincible barrier against either suggestion. One

alternative remained. He had heard of women aviators. If Doris could be induced to accompany him into the

air, instead of clinging soddenlike to the weight of Oswald's woe, then would the world behold a triumph

which would dwarf the ecstasy of the bird's flight and rob the eagle of his kingly pride. But Doris barely

endured him as yet, and the thought was not one to be considered for a moment. Yet what other course

remained? He was brooding deeply on the subject, in his hangar one evening (it was Thursday and

This had never occurred before. He had given strict orders, backed by his brother's authority, that he was

never to be intruded upon when in this place; and though he had sometimes encountered the prying eyes of

the curious flashing from behind the trees encircling the hangar, his door had never been approached before,

or his privacy encroached upon. He started then, when this low but penetrating sound struck across the

turmoil of his thoughts, and cast one look in the direction from which it came; but he did not rise, or even

Then it came again, still low but with an insistence which drew his brows together and made his hand fall

from the wire he had been unconsciously holding through the mental debate which was absorbing him. Still

he made no response, and the knocking continued. Should he ignore it entirely, start up his motor and render

himself oblivious to all other sounds? At every other point in his career he would have done this, but an

unknown, and as yet unnamed, something had entered his heart during this fatal month, which made old ways

impossible and oblivion a thing he dared not court too recklessly. Should this be a summons from Doris!

Should (inconceivable idea, yet it seized upon him relentlessly and would not yield for the asking) should it

Taking advantage of a momentary cessation of the ceaseless tap tap, he listened. Silence was never

profounder than in this forest on that windless night. Earth and air seemed, to his strained ear, emptied of all

sound. The clatter of his own steady, unhastened heartbeat was all that broke upon the stillness. He might be

alone in the Universe for all token of life beyond these walls, or so he was saying to himself, when sharp,

quick, sinister, the knocking recommenced, demanding admission, insisting upon attention, drawing him

against his own will to his feet, and finally, though he made more than one stand against it, to the very door.

"Speak! or go from my door. No one has the right to intrude here. What is your name and business?"

With an outburst of wrath, which made the hangar ring, Orlando lifted his fist to answer this appeal in his

own fierce fashion from his own side of the door, but the impulse paused at fulfilment, and he let his arm fall

again in a rush of selfhatred which it would have pained his worst enemy, even little Doris, to witness. As it

It was too much. With an oath, Orlando reached for his key. But before fitting it into the lock, he cast a look

behind him. The car was in plain sight, filling the central space from floor to roof. A single glance from a

stranger's eye, and its principal secret would be a secret no longer. He must not run such a risk. Before he

answered this call, he must drop the curtain he had rigged up against such emergencies as these. He had but

to pull a cord and a veil would fall before his treasure, concealing it as effectually as an Eastern bride is

Stepping to the wall, he drew that cord, then with an impatient sigh, returned to the door.

Another quiet but insistent knock greeted him. In no fury now, but with a vague sense of portent which gave

an aspect of farewell to the one quick glance he cast about the wellknown spot, he fitted the key in the lock,

"I ask again your name and your business," he shouted out in loud command. "Tell them or " He meant to

say, "or I do not turn this key." But something withheld the threat. He knew that it would perish in the

utterance; that he could not carry it out. He would have to open the door now, response or no response.

Pulling a pistol from his pocket, with his left hand, he turned the key with his right.

Stepping slowly back, he stared at its unpainted boards for a moment, then he spoke up quietly, almost

But the command passed unheeded; the latch was not raised, and only the slightest tap was heard.

With a bound he reached forward and pulled the door open. Then a great silence fell upon him and a rigidity

An instant of silence, during which the two men eyed each other; then, Sweetwater, with an ironical smile

"Mr. Challoner and other men at the hotel are acquainted with my purpose and await my return. I have come

" here he cast a glowing look at the huge curtain cutting off the greater portion of the illylit interior " to

offer you my services, Mr. Brotherson. I have no other motive for this intrusion than to be of use. I am deeply

interested in your invention, to the development of which I have already lent some aid, and can bring to the

test you propose a sympathetic help which you could hardly find in any other person living."

The silence which settled down at the completion of these words had a weight which made that of the

previous moment seem light and all athrob with sound. The man within had not yet caught his breath; the

man without held his, in an anxiety which had little to do with the direction of the weapon, into which he

looked. Then an owl hooted far away in the forest, and Orlando, slowly lowering his arm, asked in an oddly

"Ah! still at your old tricks! I thought you had quit that business as unprofitable."

"I don't know. I never expect quick returns. He who holds on for a rise sometimes reaps unlookedfor

The arm and fist of Orlando Brotherson ached to hurl this fellow back into the heart of the midnight woods.

But they remained quiescent and he spoke instead I have buried the business. You will never resuscitate it

Sweetwater smiled. There was no mirth in his smile though there was lightness in his tone as said:

"Then let us go back to the matter in hand. You need a helper; where are you going to find one if you don't

A growl from Brotherson's set lips. Never had he looked more dangerous than in the one burning instant

following this daring repetition of the detective's outrageous request. But as he noted how slight was the

figure opposing him from the other side of the threshold, he was swayed by his natural admiration of pluck in

the physically weak, and lost his threatening attitude, only to assume one which Sweetwater secretly found it

"You are a fool," was the stinging remark he heard flung at him. "Do you want to play the policeofficer here

"Mr. Brotherson, you understand me as little as I am supposed to understand you. Humble as my place is in

society and, I may add, in the Department whose interests I serve, there are in me two men. One you know

passably well the detective whose methods, only indifferently clever show that he has very much to learn.

Of the other the workman acquainted with hammer and saw, but with some knowledge too of higher

mathematics and the principles upon which great mechanical inventions depend, you know little, and must

imagine much. I was playing the gawky when I helped you in the old house in Brooklyn. I was interested in

your airship Oh, I recognised it for what it was, notwithstanding its oddity and lack of ostensible means

for flying but I was not caught in the whirl of its idea; the idea by which you doubtless expect, and with

very good reason too, to revolutionise the science of aviation. But since then I've been thinking it over, and

am so filled with your own hopes that either I must have a hand in the finishing and sailing of the one you

have yourself constructed, or go to work myself on the hints you have unconsciously given me, and make a

Audacity often succeeds where subtlier means fail. Orlando, with a curious twist of his strong lip, took hold

of the detective's arm and drew him in, shutting and locking the door carefully behind him.

"Now," said he, "you shall tell me what you think you have discovered, to make any ideas of your own

Sweetwater who had been so violently wheeled about in entering that he stood with his back to the curtain

"You have a device, entirely new so far as I can judge, by which this car can leap at once into space, hold its

own in any direction, and alight again upon any given spot without shock to the machine or danger to the

Sweetwater sat down at the table the other pointed out, and drawing forward a piece of paper, took up a

pencil with an easy air. Brotherson approached and stood at his shoulder. He had taken up his pistol again,

why he hardly knew, and as Sweetwater began his marks, his fingers tightened on its butt till they turned

"You see," came in easy tones from the stooping draughtsman, "I have an imagination which only needs a

slight fillip from a mind like yours to send it in the desired direction. I shall not draw an exact reproduction of

your idea, but I think you will see that I understand it very well. How's that for a start?"

Brotherson looked and hastily drew back. He did not want the other to note his surprise.

"No, but I saw this," returned Sweetwater, working busily on some curves; "and these gave me the fillip I

Brotherson, in dread of his own anger, threw his pistol to the other end of the shed:

"How so?" asked Sweetwater smilingly, rising and looking him calmly in the face. "A thief is one who

appropriates another man's goods, or, let us say, another man's ideas. I have appropriated nothing yet. I've

only shown you how easily I could do so. Mr. Brotherson, take me in as your assistant. I will be faithful to

"For how many people have you drawn those lines?" thundered the inexorable voice.

"For nobody; not for myself even. This is the first time they have left their hidingplace in my brain."

"I can and will, if you require it. But you ought to believe my word, sir. I am square as a die in all matters not

connected well, not connected with my profession," he smiled in a burst of that whimsical humour, which not

"And what surety have I that you do not consider this very matter of mine as coming within the bounds you

Brotherson surveyed him with an irony which conveyed a very different message to the detective than any he

"To how many have you spoken, dilating upon this device, and publishing abroad my secret?"

"I have spoken to no one, not even to Mr. Gryce. That shows my honesty as nothing else can."

"So that no one, here or elsewhere, shares our knowledge of the new points in this mechanism?"

"Because your conscience is already too heavily laden to bear the burden of another unprovoked crime"

Brotherson, starting back, glared with open ferocity upon the man who dared to face him with such an

"God! why didn't I shoot you on entrance!" he cried. "Your courage is certainly colossal."

A fine smile, without even the hint of humour now, touched the daring detective's lip. Brotherson's anger

"It's more than colossal; it's abnormal and " A moment's pause, then with ironic pauses " and quite

unnecessary save as a matter of display, unless you think you need it to sustain you through the ordeal you

Brotherson's eyes fell and he walked once to the extremity of the oval flooring and back.

"Well, we will grant that. But that's not all that is necessary. My requirements demand a companion in my

A quick affirmative was on Sweetwater's lips but the glimpse which he got of the speaker's face glowering

upon him from the shadows into which Brotherson had withdrawn, stopped its utterance, and the silence grew

heavy. Though it may not have lasted long by the clock, the instant of breathless contemplation of each

other's features across the intervening space was of incalculable moment to Sweetwater, and, possibly, to

Brotherson. As drowning men are said to live over their whole history between their first plunge and their

final rise to light and air, so through the mind of the detective rushed the memories of his past and the fast

fading glories of his future; and rebelling at the subtle peril he saw in that sardonic eye, he vociferated an

A breath of wind the first he, had felt that night had swept in through some crevice in the curving wall,

flapping the canvas enveloping the great car. It acted like a peal to battle. After all, a man must take some

risks in his life, and his heart was in this trial of a redoubtable mechanism in which he had full faith. He could

not say no to the prospect of being the first to share a triumph which would send his name to the ends of the

earth; and, changing the trend of his sentence, he repeated with a calmness which had the force of a great

I will not fail you in anything. If she rises here his trembling hand fell on the curtain shutting off his view

of the ship, "she shall take me with her, so that when she descends I may be the first to congratulate the proud

So be it!" shot from the other's lips, his eyes losing their threatening look, and his whole countenance

Coming from the shadows, he laid his hand on the cord regulating the rise and fall of the concealing curtain.

The canvas shook, gathered itself into great folds and disappeared in the shadows from which he had just

Long did Sweetwater survey it, then turning with beaming face upon the watchful inventor, he uttered a loud

Next moment, with everything forgotten between them save the glories of this invention, both dropped

simultaneously to the floor and began that minute examination of the mechanism necessary to their mutual

So the fiat had gone forth, with no concession to be made on account of weather.

As Oswald came from his supper and took a look at the heavens from the small front porch, he was deeply

troubled that Orlando had remained so obstinate on this point. For there were ominous clouds rolling up from

the east, and the storms in this region of high mountains and abrupt valleys were not light, nor without danger

Mr. Challoner, who, from some mysterious impulse of bravado on the part of Brotherson, was to be allowed

to make the third in this small band of spectators, was equally concerned at this sight, but not for Brotherson.

His fears were for Oswald, whose slowly gathering strength could illy bear the strain which this additional

anxiety for his brother's life must impose upon him. As for Doris, she was in a state of excitement more

connected with the past than with the future. That afternoon she had laid her hand in that of Orlando

Brotherson, and wished him well. She! in whose breast still lingered reminiscences of those old doubts which

had beclouded his image for her at their first meeting. She had not been able to avoid it. His look was a

compelling one, and it had demanded thus much from her; and a terrible thought to her gentle spirit he

It had been settled by the prospective aviator that they were to watch for the ascent from the mouth of the

grassy road leading in to the hangar. The three were to meet there at a quarter to eight and await the stroke

and the aircars rise. That time was near, and Mr. Challoner, catching a glimpse of Oswald's pallid and

unnaturally drawn features, as he set down the lantern he carried, shuddered with foreboding and wished the

Doris' watchful glance never left the face whose lightest change was more to her than all Orlando's hopes.

But the result upon her was not to weaken her resolution, but to strengthen it. Whatever the outcome of the

next few minutes, she must stand ready to sustain her invalid through it. That the darkness of early evening

had deepened to oppression, was unnoticed for the moment. The fears of an hour past had been forgotten.

Their attention was too absorbed in what was going on before them, for even a glance overhead.

"He has never told me. He has kept his own counsel about that as about everything else connected with this

matter. He simply advised me that I was not to bother about him any more; that he had found the assistant he

"Because I understand Orlando. He reads men's natures like a book. The man he trusts, we may trust.

"If I hadn't, I should not be here. I could hardly bear to witness his failure, even in a secret test like this. I

"Orlando has great pride. If this enterprise fails I cannot answer for him. He would be capable of anything.

She had been down on her knees regulating the lantern, and the sudden flame, shooting up, had shown him

"Do I look frightened?" she asked, remembering herself and lightly rising. "I believe that I am a little

frightened. If if anything should go wrong! If an accident" But here she remembered herself again and

quickly changed her tone. "But your confidence shall be mine. I will believe in his good angel or or in his

But Oswald did not seem satisfied. He continued to look at her in vague concern.

He hardly knew what to make of the intense feeling she had manifested. Had Orlando touched her girlish

heart? Had this coldblooded nature, with its steellike brilliancy and honourable but stern views of life,

moved this warm and sympathetic soul to more than admiration? The thought disturbed him so he forgot the

nearness of the moment they were all awaiting till a quick rasping sound from the hangar, followed by the

sudden appearance of an everwidening band of light about its upper rim, drew his attention and awakened

The lid was rising. Now it was halfway up, and now, for the first time, it was lifted to its full height and

stood a broad oval disc against the background of the forest. The effect was strange. The hangar had been

made brilliant by many lamps, and their united glare pouring from its top and illuminating not only the

surrounding treetops but the broad face of this uplifted disc, roused in the awed spectator a thrill such as in

mythological times might have greeted the sudden sight of Vulcan's smithy blazing on Olympian hills. But

the clang of iron on iron would have attended the flash and gleam of those unexpected fires, and here all was

still save for that steady throb never heard in Olympus or the halls of Valhalla, the pant of the motor eager for

As they listened in a trance of burning hope which obliterated all else, this noise and all others near and

distant, was suddenly lost in a loud clatter of writhing and twisting boughs which set the forest in a roar and

A wind had swooped down from the east, bending everything before it and rattling the huge oval on which

The three caught at each other's hands in dismay. The storm had come just on the verge of the enterprise, and

"Will he dare? Will he dare?" whispered Doris, and Oswald answered, though it seemed next to impossible

"He will dare. But will he survive it? Mr. Challoner," he suddenly shouted in that gentleman's ear, "what time

Mr. Challoner, disengaging himself from their mutual grasp, knelt down by the lantern to consult his watch.

The forest was now a pandemonium. Great boughs, split from their parent trunks, fell crashing to the ground

in all directions. The scream of the wind roused echoes which repeated themselves, here, there and

everywhere. No rain had fallen yet, but the sight of the clouds skurrying pellmell through the glare thrown

up from the shed, created such havoc in the already overstrained minds of the three onlookers, that they

hardly heeded, when with a c1atter and crash which at another time would have startled them into flight, the

swaying oval before them was whirled from its hinges and thrown back against the trees already bending

under the onslaught of the tempest. Destruction seemed the natural accompaniment of the moment, and the

only prayer which sprang to Oswald's lips was that the motor whose throb yet lingered in their blood though

no longer taken in by the ear, would either refuse to work or prove insufficient to lift the heavy car into this

seething tumult of warring forces. His brother's life hung in the balance against his fame, and he could not but

choose life for him. Yet, as the multitudinous sounds about him yielded for a moment to that brother's shout,

and he knew that the moment had come, which would soon settle all, he found himself staring at the elliptical

edge of the hangar, with an anticipation which held in it as much terror as joy, for the end of a great hope or

the beginning of a great triumph was compressed into this trembling instant and if

Great God! he sees it! They all see it! Plainly against that portion of the disc which still lifted itself above the

further wall, a curious moving mass appears, lengthens, takes on shape, then shoots suddenly aloft, clearing

the encircling tops of the bending, twisting and tormented trees, straight into the heart of the gale, where for

one breathless moment it whirls madly about like a thing distraught, then in slow but triumphant obedience to

the master hand that guides it, steadies and mounts majestically upward till it is lost to their view in the

Orlando Brotherson has accomplished his task. He has invented a mechanism which can send an aircar

straight up from its mooring place. As the three watchers realise this, Oswald utters a cry of triumph, and

Doris throws herself into Mr. Challoner's arms. Then they all stand transfixed again, waiting for a descent

But hark! a new sound, mingling its clatter with all the others. It is the rain. Quick, maddening, drenching, it

comes; enveloping them in wet in a moment. Can they hold their faces up against it?

And the wind! Surely it must toss that aerial messenger before it and fling it back to earth, a broken and

"Orlando?" went up in a shriek. "Orlando?" Oh, for a ray of light in those faroff heavens For a lull in the

tremendous sounds shivering the heavens and shaking the earth! But the tempest rages on, and they can only

wait, five minutes, ten minutes, looking, hoping, fearing, without thought of self and almost without thought

of each other, till suddenly as it had come, the rain ceases and the wind, with one final wail of rage and

defeat, rushes away into the west, leaving behind it a sudden silence which, to their terrified hearts, seems

almost more dreadful to bear than the accumulated noises of the moment just gone.

Orlando was in that shout of natural forces, but he is not in this stillness. They look aloft, but the heavens are

void. Emptiness is where life was. Oswald begins to sway, and Doris, remembering him now and him only,

has thrown her strong young arm about him, when What is this sound they hear high up, high up, in the

rapidly clearing vault of the heavens! A throb a steady pant, drawing near and yet nearer, entering the

circlet of great branches over their heads descending, slowly descending, till they catch another glimpse of

those hazy outlines which had no sooner taken shape than the car disappeared from their sight within the

It had survived the gale! It has reentered its haven, and that, too, without colliding with aught around or any

shock to those within, just as Orlando had promised; and the world was henceforth his! Hail to Orlando

Oswald could hardly restrain his mad joy and enthusiasm. Bounding to the door separating him from this

"Yes, I have satisfied myself," came back in studied selfcontrol from the other side of the door; and with a

They never forgot him as he looked at that moment. He was drenched, battered, palpitating with excitement;

but the majesty of success was in his eye and in the bearing of his incomparable figure.

As Oswald bounded towards him, he reached out his hand, but his glance was for Doris.

Yes," he went on, in tones of suppressed elation, "there's no flaw in my triumph. I have done all that I set out

Why did he stop and look hurriedly back into the hangar? He had remembered Sweetwater. Sweetwater, who

at that moment was stepping carefully from his seat in some remote portion of the car. The triumph was not

But there his thought stopped. Nothing of evil, nothing even of regret should mar his great hour. He was a

Three days had passed, and Orlando Brotherson sat in his room at the hotel before a table laden with

telegrams, letters and marked newspapers. The news of his achievement had gone abroad, and Derby was, for

His success was an established fact. The second trial which he had made with his car, this time with the

whole town gathered together in the streets as witnesses, had proved not only the reliability of its mechanism,

but the great advantages which it possessed for a direct flight to any given point. Already he saw Fortune

beckoning to him in the shape of an unconditional offer of money from a firstclass source; and better still,

for he was a man of untiring energy and boundless resource that opportunity for new and enlarged effort

All this was his and more. A sweeter hope, a more enduring joy had followed hard upon gratified ambition.

Doris had smiled on him; Doris! She had caught the contagion of the universal enthusiasm and had given him

her first ungrudging token of approval. It had altered his whole outlook on life in an instant, for there was an

eagerness in this demonstration which proclaimed the relieved heart. She no longer trusted either appearances

or her dream. He had succeeded in conquering her doubts by the very force of his personality, and the shadow

which had hitherto darkened their intercourse had melted quite away. She was ready to take his word now

and Oswald's, after which the rest must follow. Love does not lag far behind an ardent admiration.

Fame! Fortune! Love! What more could a man desire? What more could this man, with his strenuous past and

an unlimited capacity for an enlarged future, ask from fate than this. Yet, as he bends over his letters,

fingering some, but reading none beyond a line or two, he betrays but a passing elation, and hardly lifts his

head when a burst of loud acclaim comes ringing up to his window from some ardent passerby: "Hurrah for

Why this despondency? Have those two demons seized him again? It would seem so and with new and

overmastering fury. After the hour of triumph comes the hour of reckoning. Orlando Brotherson in his hour

of proud attainment stands naked before his own soul's tribunal and the pleader is dumb and the judge

inexorable. There is but one Witness to such struggles; but one eye to note the waste and desolation of the

Orlando Brotherson has succumbed; the attack was too keen, his forces too shaken. But as the heavy minutes

pass, he slowly regathers his strength and rises, in the end, a conqueror. Nevertheless, he knows, even in

that moment of regained command, that the peace he had thus bought with strain and stress is but

momentary; that the battle is on for life: that the days which to other eyes would carry a sense of brilliancy

days teeming with work and outward satisfaction would hold within their hidden depths a brooding

uncertainty which would rob applause of its music and even overshadow the angel face of Love.

He quailed at the prospect, materialist though he was. The days the interminable days! In his unbroken

strength and the glare of the noonday sun, he forgot to take account of the nights looming in black and

endless procession before him. It was from the day phantom he shrank, and not from the ghoul which works

And the former terror seemed formidable enough to him in this his hour of startling realisation, even if he had

freed himself for the nonce from its controlling power. To escape all further contemplation of it he would

work. These letters deserved attention. He would carry them to Oswald, and in their consideration find

distraction for the rest of the day, at least. Oswald was a good fellow. If pleasure were to be gotten from these

tokens of goodwill, he should have his share of it. A gleam of Oswald's old spirit in Oswald's once bright

eye, would go far towards throttling one of those demons whose talons he had just released from his throat;

and if Doris responded too, he would deserve his fate, if he did not succeed in gaining that mastery of himself

which would make such hours as these but episodes in a life big with interest and potent with great emotions.

Rising with a resolute air, he made a bundle of his papers and, with them in hand, passed out of his room and

A man stood directly in his way, as he made for the front door. It was Mr. Challoner.

Courtesy demanded some show of recognition between them, and Brotherson was passing with his usual cold

bow, when a sudden impulse led him to pause and meet the other's eye, with the sarcastic remark:

"You have expressed, or so I have been told, some surprise at my choice of mechanician. A man of varied

accomplishments, Mr. Challoner, but one for whom I have no further use. If, therefore, you wish to call off

your watchdog, you are at liberty to do so. I hardly think he can be serviceable to either of us much longer."

The older gentleman hesitated, seeking possibly for composure, and when he answered it was not only

"Mr. Sweetwater has just left for New York, Mr. Brotherson. He will carry with him, no doubt, the full

Orlando bowed, this time with distinguished grace. Not a flicker of relief had disturbed the calm serenity of

his aspect, yet when a moment later, he stepped among his shouting admirers in the street, his air and glance

betrayed a bounding joy for which another source must be found than that of gratified pride. A chain had

slipped from his spirit, and though the people shrank a little, even while they cheered, it was rather from awe

of his bearing and the recognition of that sense of apartness which underlay his smile than from any

perception of the man's real nature or of the awesome purpose which at that moment exalted it. But had they

known could they have seen into this tumultuous heart what a silence would have settled upon these

noisy streets; and in what terror and soulconfusion would each man have slunk away from his fellows into

Brotherson himself was not without a sense of the incongruity underlying this ovation; for, as he slowly

worked himself along, the brightness of his look became dimmed with a tinge of sarcasm which in its turn

gave way to an expression of extreme melancholy both quite unbefitting the hero of the hour in the first flush

of his newborn glory. Had he seen Doris' youthful figure emerge for a moment from the vinehung porch he

was approaching, bringing with it some doubt of the reception awaiting him? Possibly, for he made a stand

before he reached the house, and sent his followers back; after which he advanced with an unhurrying step, so

that several minutes elapsed before he finally drew up before Mr. Scott's door and entered through the now

He had meant to see Doris first, but his mind had changed. If all passed off well between himself and Oswald,

if he found his brother responsive and wideawake to the interests and necessities of the hour, he might

forego his interview with her till he felt better prepared to meet it. For call it cowardice or simply a

reasonable precaution, any delay seemed preferable to him in his present mood of discouragement, to that

final casting of the die upon which hung so many and such tremendous issues. It was the first moment of real

halt in his whole tumultuous life! Never, as daring experimentalist or agitator, had he shrunk from danger

seen or unseen or from threat uttered or unuttered, as he shrank from this young girl's no; and something of

the dread he had felt lest he should encounter her unaware in the hall and so be led on to speak when his own

judgment bade him be silent, darkened his features as he entered his brother's presence.

But Oswald was sunk in a bitter revery of his own, and took no heed of these signs of depression. In the

reaction following these days of great excitement, the past had reasserted itself, and all was gloom in his

once generous soul. This, Orlando had time to perceive, quick as the change came when his brother really

realised who his visitor was. The glad "Orlando!" and the forced smile did not deceive him, and his voice

"I have come to show you what the world says of my invention. We will soon be great men," he emphasised,

as Oswald opened the letters. "Money has been offered me and Read! read!" he urged, with an unconscious

dictatorialness, as Oswald paused in his task. "See what the fates have prepared for us; for you shall share all

my honours, as you will from this day share my work and enter into all my experiments. Cannot you enthuse

a little bit over it? Doesn't the prospect contain any allurement for you? Would you rather stay locked up in

"Yes; or die. Don't look like that, Orlando. It was a cowardly speech and I ask your pardon. I'm hardly fit to

"Not that name!" he harshly interrupted. "You must not hamper your life with useless memories. That dream

of yours may be sacred, but it belongs to the past, and a great reality confronts you. When you have fully

recovered your health, your own manhood will rebel at a weakness unworthy one of our name. Rouse

yourself, Oswald. Take account of our prospects. Give me your hand and say, 'Life holds something for me

yet. I have a brother who needs me if I do not need him. Together, we can prove ourselves invincible and

But the hand he reached for did not rise at his command, though Oswald started erect and faced him with

"I should have to think long and deeply," he said, "before I took upon myself responsibilities like these. I am

broken in mind and heart, Orlando, and must remain so till God mercifully delivers me. I should be a poor

assistant to you a drag, rather than a help. Deeply as I deplore it, hard as it may be for one of your

temperament to understand so complete an overthrow, I yet must acknowledge my condition and pray you

not to count upon me in any plans you may form. I know how this looks I know that as your brother and

truest admirer, I should respond, and respond strongly, to such overtures as these, but the motive for

achievement is gone. She was my all; and while I might work, it would be mechanically. The lift, the

Orlando stood a moment studying his brother's face; then he turned shortly about and walked the length of the

room. When he came back, he took up his stand again directly before Oswald, and asked, with a new note in

"Such grief I partly understand," said he. "But time will cure it. Some day another lovely face "

"No, we'll not talk of that," acquiesced the inventor, walking away again, this time to the window. "For you

"Killed!" broke from his brother's lips. "Slain by her own hand under an impulse of wildness and terror! Can I

Orlando stood a moment, then moved towards the door. The heaviness of his step smote upon Oswald's ear

"Thanks for your candour! If her spirit is destined to stand like an immovable shadow between you and me,

you do right to warn me. But this interview must end all allusion to the subject. I will seek and find another

man to share my fortunes; (as he said this he approached suddenly, and took his papers from the other's hand)

or " Here he hastily retraced his steps to the door which he softly opened. "Or" he repeated But though

Oswald listened for the rest, it did not come. While he waited, the other had given him one deeply

No answer, yet she was there. He knew it in every throbbing fibre of his body. She was there and quite aware

of his presence; of this he felt sure; yet she did not bid him enter. Should he knock again? Never! but he

would not quit the threshold, not if she kept him waiting there for hours. Perhaps she realised this. Perhaps

she had meant to open the door to him from the very first, who can tell? What avails is that she did ultimately

open it, and he, meeting her soft eye, wished from his very heart that his impulse had led him another way,

For the face he looked upon was serene, and there was no serenity in him; rather a confusion of unloosed

passions fearful of barrier and yearning tumultuously for freedom. But, whatever his revolt, the secret revolt

which makes no show in look or movement, he kept his ground and forced a smile of greeting. If her face was

quiet, it was also lovely; too lovely, he felt, for a man to leave it, whatever might come of his lingering.

Nothing in all his life had ever affected him like it. For him there was no other woman in the past, the present

or the future, and, realising this taking in to the full what her affection and her trust might be to him in

those fearsome days to come, he so dreaded a rebuff he, who had been the courted of women and the

admired of men ever since he could remember, that he failed to respond to her welcome and the simple

congratulations she felt forced to repeat. He could neither speak the commonplace, nor listen to it. This was

his crucial hour. He must find support here, or yield hopelessly to the maelstrom in whose whirl he was

She saw his excitement and faltered back a step a move which she regretted the next minute, for he took

advantage of it to enter and close behind him the door which she would never have shut of her own accord.

Then he spoke, abruptly, passionately, but in those golden tones which no emotion could render other than

"I am an unhappy man, Miss Scott. I see that my presence here is not welcome, yet am sure that it would be

so if it were not for a prejudice which your generous nature should be the first to cast aside, in face of the

outspoken confidence of my brother: Oswald. Doris, little Doris, I love you. I have loved you from the

moment of our first meeting. Not to many men is it given to find his heart so late, and when he does, it is for

his whole life; no second passion can follow it. I know that I am premature in saying this; that you are not

prepared to hear such words from me and that it might be wiser for me to withhold them, but I must leave

Derby soon, and I cannot go until I know whether there is the least hope that you will yet lend a light to my

career or whether that career must burn itself to ashes at your feet. Oswald nay, hear me out Oswald lives in

his memories; but I must have an active hope a tangible expectation if I am to be the man I was meant to

be. Will you, then, coldly dismiss me, or will you let my whole future life prove to you the innocence of my

past? I will not hasten anything; all I ask is some indulgence. Time will do the rest."

But that was a word for which he had no ear. He saw that she was moved, unexpectedly so; that while her

eyes wandered restlessly at times towards the door, they ever came back in girlish wonder, if not fascination,

"Doris, little Doris, I will teach you a marvellous lesson, if you will only turn your dainty ear my way. Love

such as mine carries infinite treasure with it. Will you have that treasure heaped, piled before your feet? Your

lips say no, but your eyes the truest eyes I ever saw whisper a different language. The day will come

when you will find your joy in the breast of him you are now afraid to trust." And not waiting for disclaimer

or even a glance of reproach from the eyes he had so wilfully misread, he withdrew with a movement as

Why, then, with the memory of this exultant hour to fend off all shadows, did the midnight find him in his

solitary hangar in the moonlit woods, a deeply desponding figure again. Beside him, swung the huge machine

which represented a life of power and luxury; but he no longer saw it. It called to him with many a creak and

quiet snap, sounds to start his blood and fire his eye a week nay, a day ago. But he was deaf to this music

now; the call went unheeded; the future had no further meaning, for him, nor did he know or think whether he

sat in light or in darkness; whether the woods were silent about him, or panting with life and sound. His

demon had gripped him again and the final battle was on. There would never be another. Mighty as he felt

himself to be, there were limits even to his capacity for endurance. He could sustain no further conflict. How

Around him in the forest, the night owls screeched and innumerable small things without a name, skurried

Above, the moon rode, flecking the deepest shadows with the silver from her halfturned urn, but none of the

soft and healing drops fell upon him. Nature was no longer a goddess, but an avenger; light a revealer, not a

Nor had time a meaning. From early eve to early morn he sat there and knew not if it were one hour or

twelve. Earth was his no longer. He roused, when the sun made everything light about him, but he did not

think about it. He rose, but was not conscious that he rose. He unlocked the door and stepped out into the

forest; but he could never remember doing this. He only knew later that he had been in the woods and now

was in his room at the hotel; all the rest was phantasmagoria, agony and defeat.

He had crossed the Rubicon of this world's hopes and fears, but he had been unconscious of the passage.

"With every apology for the intrusion, may I request a few minutes of private conversation with you this

Mr. Challoner had been called upon to face many difficult and heartrending duties since the blow which had

But from none of them had he shrunk as he did from the interview thus demanded. He had supposed himself

rid of this man. He had dismissed him from his life when he had dismissed Sweetwater. His face,

accordingly, wore anything but a propitiatory look, when promptly at the hour of seven, Orlando Brotherson

His pleasure or his displeasure was, however, a matter of small consequence to his selfinvited visitor. He

had come there with a set purpose, and nothing in heaven or earth could deter him from it now. Declining the

offer of a seat, with the slightest of acknowledgments in the way of a bow, he took a careful survey of the

"Are we alone, Mr. Challoner, or is that man Sweetwater lurking somewhere within hearing?"

"Mr. Sweetwater is gone, as I had the honour of telling you yesterday," was the somewhat stiff reply. "There

"Thank you, but you will pardon my insistence if I request the privilege of closing that door." He pointed to

the one communicating with the bedroom. "The information I have to give you is not such as I am willing to

"You may close the door," said Mr. Challoner coldly. "But is it necessary for you to give me the information

you mention, tonight? If it is of such a nature that you cannot accord me the privilege of sharing it, as yet,

with others, why not spare me till you can? I have gone through much, Mr. Brotherson."

"You have," came in steady assent as the man thus addressed stepped to the door he had indicated and quietly

closed it. " But," he continued, as he crossed back to his former position, "would it be easier for you to go

through the night now in anticipation of what I have to reveal than to hear it at once from my lips while I am

The answer was slow in coming. The courage which had upheld this rapidly aging man through so many

trying interviews, seemed inadequate for the test put so cruelly upon it. He faltered and sank heavily into a

chair, while the stern man watching him, gave no signs of responsive sympathy or even interest, only a

"I cannot live in uncertainty;" such were finally Mr. Challoner's words. "What you have to say concerns

Edith?" The pause he made was infinitesimal in length, but it was long enough for a quick disclaimer. But no

Mr. Brotherson took a step forward. His manner was as cold as the heart which lay like a stone in his bosom.

"Will you pardon me if I ask you to rise?" said he. "I have my weaknesses too. (He gave no sign of them.) "I

As if answering to the constraint of a will quite outside his own, Mr. Challoner rose. Their heads were now

more nearly on a level and Mr. Brotherson's voice remained low, as he proceeded, with quiet intensity

"There has been a time and it may exist yet, God knows when you thought me in some unknown and

secret way the murderer of your daughter. I do not quarrel with the suspicion; it was justified, Mr. Challoner.

The wretched father swayed, following the gesture of the hand thus held out; but he did not fall, nor did a

I did it because I regarded her treatment of my suit as insolent. I have no mercy for any such display of

intolerance on the part of the rich and the fortunate. I hated her for it; I hated her class, herself and all she

stood for. To strike the dealer of such a hurt I felt to be my right. Though a man of small beginnings and of a

stock which such as you call common, I have a pride which few of your blood can equal. I could not work, or

sleep or eat with such a sting in my breast as she had planted there. To rid myself of it, I determined to kill

her, and I did. How? Oh, that was easy, though it has proved a great stumblingblock to the detectives, as I

knew it would! I shot her but not with an ordinary bullet. My charge was a small icicle made deliberately

for the purpose. It had strength enough to penetrate, but it left no trace behind it. 'A bullet of ice for a heart of

ice,' I had said in the torment of my rage. But the word was without knowledge, Mr. Challoner. I see it now; I

have seen it for two whole weeks. I did not misjudge her condemnation of me, but I misjudged its cause. It

was not to the comparatively poor, the comparatively obscure man she sought to show contempt, but to the

brother of Oswald whose claims she saw insulted. A woman I should have respected, not killed. A woman of

no pride of station; a woman who loved a man not only of my own class but of my own blood a woman, to

avenge whose unmerited death I stand here before you a selfcondemned criminal. That is but justice, Mr.

Challoner. That is the way I look at things. Though no sentimentalist; and dead to all beliefs save the eternal

truths of science, I have that in me which will not let me profit, now that I know myself unworthy, by the

great success I have earned. Hence this confession, Mr. Challoner. It has not come easily, nor do I shut my

eyes in the least to the results which must follow. But I can not do differently. Tomorrow, you may

telegraph to New York. Till then I desire to be left undisturbed. I have many things to dispose of in the

Mr. Challoner, very white by now, pointed to the door before he sank again into his chair. Brotherson took it

for dismissal and stepped slowly back. Then their eyes met again and Mr. Challoner spoke his first word:

"There was another a poor woman she died suddenly and her wound was not unlike that inflicted upon

"I did." The answer came without a tremour. "You may say and so may others that I was less justified in this

attack than in the other; but I do not see it that way. A theory does not always work in practice. I wished to

test the unusual means I contemplated, and the woman I saw before me across the court was hardworking

A cry of bitter execration from Mr. Challoner cut him short. Turning with a shrug he was about to lift his

hand to the door, when he gave a violent start and fell hastily back before a quickly entering figure of such

It was Oswald! Oswald, the kindly! Oswald, the lover of men and the adorer of women! Oswald, with the

words of the dastardly confession he had partly overheard searing hot within his brain! Oswald, raised in a

moment from the desponding invalid to a terrifying ministrant of retributive justice.

"Murderer! doublydyed murderer of innocent women!" was hissed in the strong man's ears. "Not with the

law but with me you must reckon, and may God and the spirit of my mother nerve my arm!"

The struggle was fierce but momentary. Oswald with his weakened powers could not long withstand the

steady exertion of Orlando's giant strength, and ere long sank away from the contest into Mr. Challoner's

"You should not have summoned the shade of our mother to your aid," observed the other with a smile, in

Oswald shuddered. Orlando had spoken truly; she had always been blindly, arrogantly trustful of her eldest

Impetuously Oswald struggled with his weakness, raised himself in Mr. Challoner's arms and cried in loud

But God is just. He will not let you escape. If He does, I will not. I will hound you to the ends of this earth

and, if necessary, into the eternities. Not with the threat of my arm you are my master there, but with the

curse of a brother who believed you innocent of his darling's blood and would have believed you so in face of

Peace!" adjured Orlando. "There is no account I am not ready to settle. I have robbed you of the woman you

love, but I have despoiled myself. I stand desolate in the world, who but an hour ago could have chosen my

"Nothing." The word came slowly like a drop wrung from a nearly spent heart. " Nothing; nothing. Oh,

Orlando, I wish we were both dead and buried and that there were no further life for either of us."

The softened tone, the wistful prayer which would blot out an immortality of joy for the one, that it might

save the other from an immortality of retribution, touched some long unsounded chord in Orlando's

Advancing a step, he held out his hand the left one. "We'll leave the future to itself, Oswald, and do what

we can with the present," said he. "I've made a mess of my life and spoiled a career which might have made

us both kings. Forgive me, Oswald. I ask for nothing else from God or man. I should like that. It would

But Oswald, ever kindly, generous and more ready to think of others than of himself, had yet some of

Orlando's tenacity. He gazed at that hand and a flush swept up over his cheek which instantly became ghastly

Orlando, struck silent for a moment, dropped his hand and slowly turned away. Mr. Challoner felt Oswald

stiffen in his arms, and break suddenly away, only to stop short before he had taken one of the half dozen

"I might say, To the devil," was the sarcastic reply. "But I doubt if he would receive me. No," he added, in

more ordinary tones as the other shivered and again started forward, "you will have no trouble in finding me

in my own room tonight. I have letters to write and other things. A man like me cannot drop out without a

"Orlando!" Visions were passing before Oswald's eyes, soulcrushing visions such as in his blame less life he

never thought could enter into his consciousness or blast his tranquil outlook upon life. "Orlando!" he again

appealed, covering his eyes in a frenzied attempt to shut out these horrors, "I cannot let you go like this.

"Tomorrow, in every niche and corner of this world, wherever Edith Challoner's name has gone, wherever

my name has gone, it will be known that the discoverer of a practical airship, is a man whom they can no

longer honour. Do you think that is not hell enough for me; or that I do not realise the hell it will be for you?

I've never wearied you or any man with my affection; but I'm not all demon. I would gladly have spared you

this additional anguish; but that was impossible. You are my brother and must suffer from the connection

whether we would have it so of not. If it promises too much misery and I know no misery like that of

Oswald, swaying with weakness, but maddened by the sight of an overthrow which carried with it the stifled

affections and the admiration of his whole life, gave a bound forward, opened his arms and fell.

Orlando stopped short. Gazing down on his prostrate brother, he stood for a moment with a gleam of

something like human tenderness showing through the flare of dying passions and perishing hopes; then he

swung open the door and passed quietly out, and Mr. Challoner could hear the laughing remark with which

he met and dismissed the halfdozen men and women who had been drawn to this end of the hall by what

The clock in the hotel office struck three. Orlando Brotherson counted the strokes; then went on writing. His

transom was partly open and he had just heard a step go by his door. This was nothing new. He had already

heard it several times before that night. It was Mr. Challoner's step, and every time it passed, he had rustled

his papers or scratched vigorously with his pen. "He is keeping watch for Oswald," was his thought. "They

fear a sudden end to this. No one, not the son of my mother knows me. Do I know myself?"

Four o'clock! The light was still burning, the pile of letters he was writing increasing.

Five o'clock! A rattling shade betrays an open window. No other sound disturbs the quiet of the room. It is

empty now; but Mr. Challoner, long since satisfied that all was well, goes by no more. Silence has settled

There was silence in the streets also. The few who were abroad, crept quietly along. An electric storm was in

the air and the surcharged clouds hung heavy and low, biding the moment of outbreak. A man who had left a

place of many shadows for the more open road, paused and looked up at these clouds; then went calmly on.

Suddenly the shriek of an approaching train tears through the valley. Has it a call for this man? No. Yet he

pauses in the midst of the street he is crossing and watches, as a child might watch, for the flash of its lights

at the end of the darkened vista. It comes filling the empty space at which he stares with moving life

engine, baggage car and a long string of Pullmans. Then all is dark again and only the noise of its slackening

wheels comes to him through the night. It has stopped at the station. A minute longer and it has started again,

and the quickly lessening rumble of its departure is all that remains of this vision of man's activity and

ceaseless expectancy. When it is quite gone and all is quiet, a sigh falls from the man's lips and he moves on,

but this time, for some unexplainable reason, in the direction of the station. With lowered head he passes

along, noting little till he arrives within sight of the depot where some freight is being handled, and a trunk or

two wheeled down the platform. No sight could be more ordinary or unsuggestive, but it has its attraction for

him, for he looks up as he goes by and follows the passage of that truck down the platform till it has reached

A cluster of houses, one of them open and lighted, was all which lay between him now and the country road.

He was hurrying past, for his step had unconsciously quickened as he turned his back upon the station, when

he was seized again by that mood of curiosity and stepped up to the door from which a light issued and

looked in. A common eatingroom lay before him, with rudely spread tables and one very sleepy waiter

taking orders from a new arrival who sat with his back to the door. Why did the lonely man on the sidewalk

start as his eye fell on the latter's commonplace figure, a hungry man demanding breakfast in a cheap, country

restaurant? His own physique was powerful while that of the other looked slim and frail. But fear was in the

air, and the brooding of a tempest affects some temperaments in a totally unexpected manner. As the man

inside turns slightly and looks up, the master figure on the sidewalk vanishes, and his step, if any one had

been interested enough to listen, rings with a new note as it turns into the country road it has at last reached.

But no one heeded. The new arrival munches his roll and waits impatiently for his coffee, while without, the

clouds pile soundlessly in the sky, one of them taking the form of a huge hand with clutching fingers reaching

Mr. Challoner had been honest in his statement regarding the departure of Sweetwater. He had not only paid

and dismissed our young detective, but he had seen him take the train for New York. And Sweetwater had

gone away in good faith, too, possibly with his convictions undisturbed, but acknowledging at last that he had

reached the end of his resources. But the brain does not loose its hold upon its work as readily as the hand

does. He was halfway to New York and had consciously bidden farewell to the whole subject, when he

suddenly startled those about him by rising impetuously to his feet. He sat again immediately, but with a light

in his small grey eye which Mr. Gryce would have understood and revelled in. The idea for which he had

searched industriously for months had come at last, unbidden; thrown up from some remote recess of the

I have it. I have it," he murmured in ceaseless reiteration to himself. "I will go back to Mr. Challoner and let

him decide if the idea is worth pursuing. Perhaps an experiment may be necessary. It was bitter cold that

night; I wish it were icy weather now. But a chemist can help us out. Good God! if this should be the

But his sympathies did not deter him. He returned to Derby at once, and as soon as he dared, presented

He was amazed to find that gentleman already up and in a state of agitation that was very disquieting. But he

brightened wonderfully at sight of his visitor, and drawing him inside the room, observed with trembling

"I do not know why you have come back, but never was man more welcome. Mr. Brotherson has confessed."

"Yes, he killed both women; my daughter and his neighbour, the washerwoman, with a "

"Wait," broke in Sweetwater, eagerly, "let me tell you." And stooping, he whispered something in the other's

"How came you to think " he began; but Sweetwater in his great anxiety interrupted him with a quick:

"Explanations will keep, Mr. Challoner. What of the man himself? Where is he? That's the important thing

"He was in his room till early this morning writing letters, but he is not there now. The door is unlocked and I

went in. From appearances I fear the worst. That is why your presence relieves me so. Where do you think he

"He is sure. But he lacks strength to move. He lies on my bed in there. Doris and her father are with him."

"We will not wait a minute. How the storm holds off. I hope it will hold off for another hour."

Mr. Challoner made no reply. He had spoken because he felt compelled to speak, but it had not been easy for

The town was up by this time and, though they chose the least frequented streets, they had to suffer from

some encounters. It was a good half hour before they found themselves in the forest and in sight of the

hangar. One look that way, and Sweetwater turned to see what the effect was upon Mr. Challoner.

A murmur of dismay greeted him. The oval of that great lid stood up against the forest background.

But Sweetwater, laying a finger on his lip, advanced and laid his ear against the door. Then he cast a quick

look aloft. Nothing was to be seen there. The darkness of storm in the heavens but nothing more. Yes! now,

"Let us return to the highroad," whispered Sweetwater; "we can see nothing here."

Running to the nearest tree, he quickly climbed it, worked himself along a protruding branch and looked

down into the open hangar. It was now so dark that details escaped him, but one thing was certain. The

Descending, he drew Mr. Challoner hastily along. "He's gone," said he. "Let us reach the high ground as

quickly as we can. I'm glad that Mr. Oswald Brotherson is not with us or or Miss Doris."

But this expression of satisfaction died on his lips. At the point where the forest road debouches into the

highway, he had already caught a glimpse of their two figures. They were waiting for news, and the brother

"Where is he? You've not found him or you wouldn't be coming alone. He cannot have gone up. He cannot

manage it without an assistant. We must seek him somewhere else; in the forest or in our house at home.

"He's not in the forest and he's not in your home," returned Sweetwater. "He's aloft; the airship is not in the

They strained their eyes in a maddening search of the heavens. But the darkness had so increased that they

Suddenly the lightning flashed again, this time so vividly and so near that the whole heaven burst into fiery

illumination above them and the thunder, crashing almost simultaneously, seemed for a moment to rock the

world and bow the heavens towards them. Then a silence; then Sweetwater's whisper in Mr. Challoner's ear:

Mr. Challoner threw out his arms, then steadied himself. Oswald was reeling; Oswald had seen too. But Doris

was there. When the lightning flashed again, she was standing and Oswald was weeping on her bosom.