The Poisoned Pen................................................................................................................................................1

Arthur B. Reeve.......................................................................................................................................1

Kennedy's suitcase was lying open on the bed, and he was literally throwing things into it from his

chiffonier, as I entered after a hurried trip uptown from the Star office in response to an urgent message

"Come, Walter," he cried, hastily stuffing in a package of clean laundry without taking off the

wrappingpaper, "I've got your suitcase out. Pack up whatever you can in five minutes. We must take the

I did not wait to hear any more. The mere mention of the name of the quaint and quiet little Connecticut town

was sufficient. For Danbridge was on everybody's lips at that time. It was the scene of the now famous

Danbridge poisoning case a brutal case in which the pretty little actress, Vera Lytton, had been the victim.

"I've been retained by Senator Adrian Willard," he called from his room, as I was busy packing in mine. The

Willard family believe that that young Dr. Dixon is the victim of a conspiracy or at least Alma Willard

does, which comes to the same thing, and well, the senator called me up on longdistance and offered me

anything I would name in reason to take the case. Are you ready? Come on, then. We've simply got to make

As we settled ourselves in the smokingcompartment of the Pullman, which for some reason or other we had

to ourselves, Kennedy spoke again for the first time since our frantic dash across the city to catch the train.

"Now let us see, Walter," he began. "We've both read a good deal about this case in the papers. Let's try to get

"Mighty interesting," I answered; "a combination of old New England and new, of ancestors and factories, of

wealth and poverty, and above all it is interesting for its colony of NewYorkers what shall I call it? a

"Yes," he resumed, "I thought as much. Vera Lytton belonged to the colony. A very talented girl, too you

remember her in 'The Taming of the New Woman' last season? Well, to get back to the facts as we know

"Here is a girl with a brilliant future on the stage discovered by her friend, Mrs. Boncour, in convulsions

practically insensible with a bottle of headachepowder and a jar of ammonia on her dressingtable. Mrs.

Boncour sends the maid for the nearest doctor, who happens to be a Dr. Waterworth. Meanwhile she tries to

restore Miss Lytton, but with no result. She smells the ammonia and then just tastes the headachepowder, a

very foolish thing to do, for by the time Dr. Waterworth arrives he has two patients."

"No," I corrected, "only one, for Miss Lytton was dead when he arrived, according to his latest statement."

"Very well, then one. He arrives, Mrs. Boncour is ill, the maid knows nothing at all about it, and Vera

Lytton is dead. He, too, smells the ammonia, tastes the headachepowder just the merest trace and then

he has two patients, one of them himself. We must see him, for his experience must have been appalling.

How he ever did it I can't imagine, but he saved both himself and Mrs. Boncour from poisoning cyanide,

the papers say, but of course we can't accept that until we see. It seems to me, Walter, that lately the papers

Not relishing Kennedy in the humour of expressing his real opinion of the newspapers, I hastily turned the

"Ah, there is the crux of the whole case that note from Dixon. Let us see. Dr. Dixon is, if I am informed

correctly, of a fine and aristocratic family, though not wealthy. I believe it has been established that while he

was an interne in a city hospital he became acquainted with Vera Lytton, after her divorce from that artist

Thurston. Then comes his removal to Danbridge and his meeting and later his engagement with Miss Willard.

On the whole, Walter, judging from the newspaper pictures, Alma Willard is quite the equal of Vera Lytton

for looks, only of a different style of beauty. Oh, well, we shall see. Vera decided to spend the spring and

summer at Danbridge in the bungalow of her friend, Mrs. Boncour, the novelist. That's when things began to

"Yes," I put in, "when you come to know Danbridge as I did after that summer when you were abroad, you'll

understand, too. Everybody knows everybody else's business. It is the main occupation of a certain set, and

the percapita output of gossip is a record that would stagger the census bureau. Still, you can't get away

from the note, Craig. There it is, in Dixon's own handwriting, even if he does deny it: 'This will cure your

"Quite right," he agreed hastily; "the note was queer, though, wasn't it? They found it crumpled up in the jar

of ammonia. Oh, there are lots of problems the newspapers have failed to see the significance of, let alone

Our first visit in Danbridge was to the prosecuting attorney, whose office was not far from the station on the

main street. Craig had wired him, and he had kindly waited to see us, for it was evident that Danbridge

"Would it be too much to ask just to see that note that was found in the Boncour bungalow?" asked Craig.

The prosecutor, an energetic young man, pulled out of a documentcase a crumpled note which had been

pressed flat again. On it in clear, deep black letters were the words, just as reported:

The lawyer pulled out a number of letters. "I'm afraid they will have to admit it," he said with reluctance, as if

down in his heart he hated to prosecute Dixon. "We have lots of these, and no handwriting expert could

He stowed away the letters without letting Kennedy get a hint as to their contents. Kennedy was examining

"May I count on having this note for further examination, of course always at such times and under such

The attorney nodded. "I am perfectly willing to do anything not illegal to accommodate the senator," he said.

"But, on the other hand, I am here to do my duty for the state, cost whom it may."

The Willard house was in a virtual state of siege. Newspaper reporters from Boston and New York were

actually encamped at every gate, terrible as an army, with cameras. It was with some difficulty that we got in,

even though we were expected, for some of the more enterprising had already fooled the family by posing as

The house was a real, old colonial mansion with tall white pillars, a door with a glittering brass knocker,

which gleamed out severely at you as you approached through a hedge of faultlessly trimmed boxwoods.

Senator, or rather former Senator, Willard met us in the library, and a moment later his daughter Alma joined

him. She was tall, like her father, a girl of poise and selfcontrol. Yet even the schooling of twentytwo years

in rigorous New England selfrestraint could not hide the very human pallor of her face after the sleepless

nights and nervous days since this trouble had broken on her placid existence. Yet there was a mark of

strength and determination on her face that was fascinating. The man who would trifle with this girl, I felt,

was playing fast and loose with her very life. I thought then, and I said to Kennedy afterward: "If this Dr.

Dixon is guilty, you have no right to hide it from that girl. Anything less than the truth will only blacken the

The senator greeted I us gravely, and I could not but take it as a good omen when, in his pride of wealth and

family and tradition, he laid bare everything to us, for the sake of Alma Willard. It was clear that in this

As we were about to leave after an interview barren of new facts, a young man was announced, Mr. Halsey

Post. He bowed politely to us, but it was evident why he had called, as his eye followed Alma about the

"The son of the late Halsey Post, of Post & Vance, silversmiths, who have the large factory in town, which

you perhaps noticed," explained the senator. "My daughter has known him all her life. A very fine young

Later, we learned that the senator had bent every effort toward securing Halsey Post as a soninlaw, but his

Post waited until Alma had withdrawn before he disclosed the real object of his visit. In almost a whisper,

lest she should still be listening, he said, "There is a story about town that Vera Lytton's former husband an

Senator Willard leaned forward as if expecting to hear Dixon immediately acquitted. None of us was

"And the story goes on to say that he threatened to make a scene over a wrong he says he has suffered from

Dixon. I don't know anything more about it, and I tell you only because I think you ought to know what

We shook off the last of the reporters who affixed themselves to us, and for a moment Kennedy dropped in at

the little bungalow to see Mrs. Boncour. She was much better, though she had suffered much. She had taken

"Had Miss Lytton any enemies whom you think of, people who were jealous of her professionally or

"But this Mr. Thurston," put in Kennedy quickly. "One is not usually visited in perfect friendship by a

She regarded him keenly for a moment. "Halsey Post told you that," she said. "No one else knew he was here.

But Halsey Post was an old friend of both Vera and Mr. Thurston before they separated. By chance he

happened to drop in the day Mr. Thurston was here, and later in the day I gave him a letter to forward to Mr.

Thurston, which had come after the artist left. I'm sure no one else knew the artist. He was here the morning

of the day she died, and and that's every bit I'm going to tell you about him, so there. I don't know why he

"That's a thing we must follow up later," remarked Kennedy as we made our adieus. "Just now I want to get

the facts in hand. The next thing on my programme is to see this Dr. Waterworth."

We found the doctor still in bed; in fact, a wreck as the result of his adventure. He had little to correct in the

facts of the story which had been published so far. But there were many other details of the poisoning he was

"Yes," he answered. "It was standing on her dressingtable with the note crumpled up in it, just as the papers

"I didn't say that. I can guess. Fumes of ammonia are one of the antidotes for poisoning of this kind."

"No, of course not. But she probably did know that ammonia is good for just that sort of faintness which she

must have experienced after taking the powder. Perhaps she thought of sal volatile, I don't know. But most

people know that ammonia in some form is good for faintness of this sort, even if they don't know anything

"Yes," he replied slowly. It was evident that he was suffering great physical and nervous anguish as the result

of his too intimate acquaintance with the poisons in question. " I will tell you precisely how it was, Professor

Kennedy. When I was called in to see Miss Lytton I found her on the bed. I pried open her jaws and smelled

the sweetish odour of the cyanogen gas. I knew then what she had taken, and at the moment she was dead. In

the next room I heard some one moaning. The maid said that it was Mrs. Boncour, and that she was deathly

sick. I ran into her room, and though she was beside herself with pain I managed to control her, though she

struggled desperately against me. I was rushing her to the bathroom, passing through Miss Lytton's room.

'What's wrong?' I asked as I carried her along. 'I took some of that,' she replied, pointing to the bottle on the

"I put a small quantity of its crystal contents on my tongue. Then I realised the most tragic truth of my life. I

had taken one of the deadliest poisons in the world. The odour of the released gas of cyanogen was strong.

But more than that, the metallic taste and the horrible burning sensation told of the presence of some form of

mercury, too. In that terrible moment my brain worked with the incredible swiftness of light. In a flash I

knew that if I added malic acid to the mercury per chloride of mercury or corrosive sublimate I would

have calomel or subchloride of mercury, the only thing that would switch the poison out of my system and

"Seizing her about the waist, I hurried into the diningroom. On a sideboard was a dish of fruit. I took two

apples. I made her eat one, core and all. I ate the other. The fruit contained the malic acid I needed to

manufacture the calomel, and I made it right there in nature's own laboratory. But there was no time to stop. I

had to act just as quickly to neutralise that cyanide, too. Remembering the ammonia, I rushed back with Mrs.

Boncour, and we inhaled the fumes. Then I found a bottle of peroxide of hydrogen. I washed out her stomach

with it, and then my own. Then I injected some of the peroxide into various parts of her body. The peroxide

of hydrogen and hydrocyanic acid, you know, make oxamide, which is a harmless compound.

"The maid put Mrs. Boncour to bed, saved. I went to my house, a wreck. Since then I have not left this bed.

"Would you taste an unknown drug again to discover the nature of a probable poison?" asked Craig.

"I don't know," he answered slowly, "but I suppose I would. In such a case a conscientious doctor has no

thought of self. He is there to do things, and he does them, according to the best that is in him. In spite of the

fact that I haven't had one hour of unbroken sleep since that fatal day, I suppose I would do it again."

When we were leaving, I remarked: "That is a martyr to science. Could anything be more dramatic than his

We walked along in silence. "Walter, did you notice he said not a word of condemnation of Dixon, though

the note was before his eyes? Surely Dixon has some strong supporters in Danbridge, as well as enemies.

The next morning we continued our investigation. We found Dixon's lawyer, Leland, in consultation with his

client in the bare cell of the county jail. Dixon proved to be a cleareyed, cleancut young man. The thing

that impressed me most about him, aside from the prepossession in his favour due to the faith of Alma

Willard, was the nerve he displayed, whether guilty or innocent. Even an innocent man might well have been

staggered by the circumstantial evidence against him and the high tide of public feeling, in spite of the

support that he was receiving. Leland, we learned, had been very active. By prompt work at the time of the

young doctor's arrest he had managed to secure the greater part of Dr. Dixon's personal letters, though the

Kennedy spent most of the day in tracing out the movements of Thurston. Nothing that proved important was

turned up, and even visits to nearby towns failed to show any sales of cyanide or sublimate to any one not

entitled to buy them. Meanwhile, in turning over the gossip of the town, one of the newspapermen ran across

the fact that the Boncour bungalow was owned by the Posts, and that Halsey Post, as the executor of the

estate, was a more frequent visitor than the mere collection of the rent would warrant. Mrs. Boncour

maintained a stolid silence that covered a seething internal fury when the newspaperman in question hinted

It was after a fruitless day of such search that we were sitting in the readingroom of the Fairfield Hotel.

Leland entered. His face was positively white. Without a word he took us by the arm and led us across Main

"When I took this case," he said, "I believed down in my heart that Dixon was innocent. I still believe it, but

my faith has been rudely shaken. I feel that you should know about what I have just found. As I told you, we

secured nearly all of Dr. Dixon's letters. I had not read them all then. But I have been going through them

tonight. Here is a letter from Vera Lytton herself. You will notice it is dated the day of her death."

He laid the letter before us. It was written in a curious greyishblack ink in a woman's hand, and read:

Since we agreed to disagree we have at least been good friends, if no longer lovers. I am not writing in anger

to reproach you with your new love, so soon after the old. I suppose Alma Willard is far better suited to be

your wife than is a poor little actress rather looked down on in this Puritan society here. But there is

We are in danger of an awful mixup if we don't look out. Mr. Thurston I had almost said my husband,

though I don't know whether that is the truth or not who has just come over from New York, tells me that

there is some doubt about the validity of our divorce. You recall he was in the South at the time I sued him,

and the papers were served on him in Georgia. He now says the proof of service was fraudulent and that he

can set aside the divorce. In that case you might figure in a suit for alienating my affections.

I do not write this with ill will, but simply to let you know how things stand. If we had married, I suppose I

would be guilty of bigamy. At any rate, if he were disposed he could make a terrible scandal.

Oh, Harris, can't you settle with him if he asks anything? Don't forget so soon that we once thought we were

going to be the happiest of mortals at least I did. Don't desert me, or the very earth will cry out against you.

I am frantic and hardly know what I am writing. My head aches, but it is my heart that is breaking. Harris, I

am yours still, down in my heart, but not to be cast off like an old suit for a new one. You know the old

As we finished reading, Leland exclaimed, "That never must come before the jury."

Kennedy was examining the letter carefully. "Strange," he muttered. "See how it was folded. It was written

on the wrong side of the sheet, or rather folded up with the writing outside. Where have these letters been?"

"Part of the time in my safe, part of the time this afternoon on my desk by the window."

"The office was locked, I suppose?" asked Kennedy. "There was no way to slip this letter in among the others

"None. The office has been locked, and there is no evidence of any one having entered or disturbed a thing."

He was hastily running over the pile of letters as if looking to see whether they were all there. Suddenly he

"Yes," he exclaimed excitedly, "one of them is gone." Nervously he fumbled through them again. "One is

"It was a note from an artist, Thurston, who gave the address of Mrs. Boncour's bungalow ah, I see you

have heard of him. He asked Dixon's recommendation of a certain patent headache medicine. I thought it

possibly evidential, and I asked Dixon about it. He explained it by saying that he did not have a copy of his

reply, but as near as he could recall, he wrote that the compound would not cure a headache except at the

expense of reducing heart action dangerously. He says he sent no prescription. Indeed, he thought it a scheme

to extract advice without incurring the charge for an office call and answered it only because he thought Vera

had become reconciled to Thurston again. I can't find that letter of Thurston's. It is gone."

"Why, if Dixon contemplated anything against Miss Lytton, should he preserve this letter from her?" mused

"That's what puzzles me," remarked Leland. "Do you suppose some one has broken in and substituted this

Kennedy was scrutinising the letter, saying nothing. "I may keep it?" he asked at length. Leland was quite

willing and even undertook to obtain some specimens of the writing of Vera Lytton. With these and the letter

Kennedy was working far into the night and long after I had passed into a land troubled with many wild

The next morning a message from our old friend First Deputy O'Connor in New York told briefly of locating

the rooms of an artist named Thurston in one of the cooperative studio apartments. Thurston himself had not

been there for several days and was reported to have gone to Maine to sketch. He had had a number of debts,

but before he left they had all been paid strange to say, by a notorious firm of Shyster lawyers, Kerr &

Kimmel. Kennedy wired back to find out the facts from Kerr & Kimmel and to locate Thurston at any cost.

Even the discovery of the new letter did not shake the wonderful selfpossession of Dr. Dixon. He denied

ever having received it and repeated his story of a letter from Thurston to which he had replied by sending an

answer, care of Mrs. Boncour, as requested. He insisted that the engagement between Miss Lytton and

himself had been broken before the announcement of his engagement with Miss Willard. As for Thurston, he

said the man was little more than a name to him. He had known perfectly all the circumstances of the divorce,

but had had no dealings with Thurston and no fear of him. Again and again he denied ever receiving the letter

Kennedy did not tell the Willards of the new letter. The strain had begun to tell on Alma, and her father had

had her quietly taken to a farm of his up in the country. To escape the curious eyes of reporters, Halsey Post

had driven up one night in his closed car. She had entered it quickly with her father, and the journey had been

made in the car, while Halsey Post had quietly dropped off on the outskirts of the town, where another car

was waiting to take him back. It was evident that the Willard family relied implicitly on Halsey, and his

assistance to them was most considerate. While he never forced himself forward, he kept in close touch with

the progress of the case, and now that Alma was away his watchfulness increased proportionately, and twice

Kennedy was now bending every effort to locate the missing artist. When he left Danbridge, he seemed to

have dropped out of sight completely. However, with O'Connor's aid, the police of all New England were on

The Thurstons had been friends of Halsey's before Vera Lytton had ever met Dr. Dixon, we discovered from

the Danbridge gossips, and I, at least, jumped to the conclusion that Halsey was shielding the artist, perhaps

through a sense of friendship when he found that Kennedy was interested in Thurston's movement. I must say

I rather liked Halsey, for he seemed very thoughtful of the Willards, and was never too busy to give an hour

Two days passed with not a word from Thurston. Kennedy was obviously getting impatient. One day a

rumour was received that he was in Bar Harbour; the next it was a report from Nova Scotia. At last, however,

came the welcome news that he had been located in New Hampshire, arrested, and might be expected the

At once Kennedy became all energy. He arranged for a secret conference in Senator Willard's house, the

moment the artist was to arrive. The senator and his daughter made a flying trip back to town. Nothing was

said to any one about Thurston, but Kennedy quietly arranged with the district attorney to be present with the

note and the jar of ammonia properly safeguarded. Leland of course came, although his client could not.

Halsey Post seemed only too glad to be with Miss Willard, though he seemed to have lost interest in the case

as soon as the Willards returned to look after it themselves. Mrs. Boncour was well enough to attend, and

even Dr. Waterworth insisted on coming in a private ambulance which drove over from a nearby city

especially for him. The time was fixed just before the arrival of the train that was to bring Thurston.

It was an anxious gathering of friends and foes of Dr. Dixon who sat impatiently waiting for Kennedy to

begin this momentous exposition that was to establish the guilt or innocence of the calm young physician

who sat impassively in the jail not half a mile from the room where his life and death were being debated.

"In many respects this is the most remarkable case that it has ever been my lot to handle," began Kennedy.

"Never before have I felt so keenly my sense of responsibility. Therefore, though this is a somewhat irregular

"First, let us consider the dead woman. The question that arises here is, Was she murdered or did she commit

suicide? I think you will discover the answer as I proceed. Miss Lytton, as you know, was, two years ago,

Mrs. Burgess Thurston. The Thurstons had temperament, and temperament is quite often the highway to the

divorce court. It was so in this case. Mrs. Thurston discovered that her husband was paying much attention to

other women. She sued for divorce in New York, and he accepted service in the South, where he happened to

"Now here comes the remarkable feature of the case. The law firm of Kerr & Kimmel, I find, not long ago

began to investigate the=20 legality of this divorce. Before a notary Thurston made an affidavit that he had

never been served by the lawyer for Miss Lytton, as she was now known. Her lawyer is dead, but his

representative in the South who served the papers is alive. He was brought to New York and asserted

"Here is where the shrewdness of Mose Kimmel, the shyster lawyer, came in. He arranged to have the

Southern attorney identify the man he had served the papers on. For this purpose he was engaged in

conversation with one of his own clerks when the lawyer was due to appear. Kimmel appeared to act

confused, as if he had been caught napping. The Southern lawyer, who had seen Thurston only once, fell

squarely into the trap and identified the clerk as Thurston. There were plenty of witnesses to it, and it was

point number two for the great Mose Kimmel. Papers were drawn up to set aside the divorce decree.

"In the meantime, Miss Lytton, or Mrs. Thurston, had become acquainted with a young doctor in a New York

hospital, and had become engaged to him. It matters not that the engagement was later broken. The fact

remains that if the divorce were set aside an action would lie against Dr. Dixon for alienating Mrs. Thurston's

affections, and a grave scandal would result. I need not add that in this quiet little town of Danbridge the most

Kennedy was unfolding a piece=20of paper. As he laid it down, Leland, who was sitting next to me,

"My God, he's going to let the prosecutor know about that letter. Can't you stop him?"

It was too late. Kennedy had already begun to read Vera's letter. It was damning to Dixon, added to the other

When he had finished reading, you could almost hear the hearts throbbing in the room. A scowl overspread

Senator Willard's features. Alma Willard was pale and staring wildly at Kennedy. Halsey Post, ever solicitous

for her, handed her a glass of water from the table. Dr. Waterworth had forgotten his pain in his intense

attention, and Mrs. Boncour seemed stunned with astonishment. The prosecuting attorney was eagerly taking

"In some way," pursued Kennedy in an even voice, "this letter was either overlooked in the original

correspondence of Dr. Dixon or it was added to it later. I shall come back to that presently. My next point is

that Dr. Dixon says he received a letter from Thurston on the day the artist visited the Boncour bungalow. It

asked about a certain headache compound, and his reply was brief and, as nearly as I can find out, read, 'This

compound will not cure your headache except at the expense of reducing heart action dangerously.'

"Next comes the tragedy. On the evening of the day that Thurston=20 eft, after presumably telling Miss

Lytton about what Kerr & Kimmel had discovered, Miss Lytton is found dying with a bottle containing

cyanide and sublimate beside her. You are all familiar with the circumstances and with the note discovered in

the jar of ammonia. Now, if the prosecutor will be so kind as to let me see that note thank you, sir. This is the

identical note. You have all heard the various theories of the jar and have read the note. Here it is in plain,

cold black and white in Dr. Dixon's own handwriting, as you know, and reads: 'This will cure your

Alma Willard seemed as one paralysed. Was Kennedy, who had been engaged by her father to defend her

Before we draw the final conclusion," continued Kennedy gravely, "there are one or two points I wish to

I did so, and two policemen stepped in with a prisoner. It was Thurston, but changed almost beyond

recognition. His clothes were worn, his beard shaved off, and he had a generally hunted appearance.

Thurston was visibly nervous. Apparently he had heard all that Kennedy had said and intended he should

hear, for as he entered he almost broke away from the police officers in his eagerness to speak.

"Before God," he cried dramatically, "I am as innocent as you are of this crime, Professor Kennedy."

"Are you prepared to swear before me," almost shouted Kennedy, his eyes blazing, "that you were never

The man cringed back as if a stinging blow had been delivered between his eyes. As he met Craig's fixed

glare he knew there was no hope. Slowly, as if the words were being wrung from him syllable by syllable, he

"No buts or ifs, Thurston," cried Kennedy sarcastically. "What did you make that affidavit for? What is your

"Kimmel sent for me. I did not go to him. He offered to pay my debts if I would swear to such a statement. I

did not ask why or for whom. I swore to it and gave him a list of my creditors. I waited until they were paid.

Then my conscience " I could not help revolting at the thought of conscience in such a wretch, and the

word itself seemed to stick in his throat as he went on and saw how feeble an impression he was making on

us " my conscience began to trouble me. I determined to see Vera, tell her all, and find out whether it was

she who wanted this statement. I saw her. When at last I told her, she scorned me. I can confirm that, for as I

left a man entered. I now knew how grossly I had sinned, in listening to Mose Kimmel. I fled. I disappeared

in Maine. I travelled. Every day my money grew less. At last I was overtaken, captured, and brought back

He stopped and sank wretchedly down in a chair and covered his face with his hands.

Kennedy was working quickly. Motioning the officers to be seated by Thurston, he uncovered a jar which he

had placed on the table. The colour had now appeared in Alma's cheeks, as if hope had again sprung in her

heart, and I fancied that Halsey Post saw his claim on her favour declining correspondingly.

"I want you to examine the letters in this case with me," continued Kennedy. "Take the letter which I read

from Miss Lytton, which was found following the strange disappearance of the note from Thurston."

What is your opinion about Cross's Headache Cure? Would you recommend it for a nervous headache?

Craig held up the writing so that we could all see that he had written what Dixon declared Thurston wrote in

the note that had disappeared. Then he dipped another pen into a second bottle, and for some time he

scrawled on another sheet of paper. He held it up, but it was still perfectly blank.

"Now," he added, "I am going to give a little demonstration which I expect to be successful only in a

measure. Here in the open sunshine by this window I am going to place these two sheets of paper side by

side. It will take longer than I care to wait to make my demonstration complete, but I can do enough to

For a quarter of an hour we sat in silence, wondering what he would do next. At last he beckoned us over to

the window. As we approached he said, "On sheet number one I have written with quinoline; on sheet

We bent over. The writing signed "Thurston" on sheet number one was faint, almost imperceptible, but on

paper number two, in black letters, appeared what Kennedy had written: " Dear Harris: Since we agreed to

"It is like the start of the substituted letter, and the other is like the missing note," gasped Leland in a daze.

"Yes," said Kennedy quickly. "Leland, no one entered your office. No one stole the Thurston note. No one

substituted the Lytton letter. According to your own story, you took them out of the safe and left them in the

sunlight all day. The process that had been started earlier in ordinary light, slowly, was now quickly

completed. In other words, there was writing which would soon fade away on one side of the paper and

"For instance, quinoline rapidly disappears in sunlight. Starch with a slight trace of iodine writes a light blue,

which disappears in air. It was something like that used in the Thurston letter. Then, too, silver nitrate

dissolved in ammonia gradually turns black as it is acted on by light and air. Or magenta treated with a

bleachingagent in just sufficient quantity to decolourise it is invisible when used for writing. But the

original colour reappears as the oxygen of the air acts upon the pigment. I haven't a doubt but that my

analyses of the inks are correct and on one side quinoline was used and on the other nitrate of silver. This

explains the inexplicable disappearance of evidence incriminating one person, Thurston, and the sudden

appearance of evidence incriminating another, Dr. Dixon. Sympathetic ink also accounts for the curious

circumstance that the Lytton letter was folded up with the writing apparently outside. It was outside and

unseen until the sunlight brought it out and destroyed the other, inside, writing a change, I suspect, that was

intended for the police to see after it was completed, not for the defence to witness as it was taking place."

We looked at each other aghast. Thurston was nervously opening and shutting his lips and moistening them

"Lastly," went on Craig, utterly regardless of Thurston's frantic efforts to speak, "we come to the note that

was discovered so queerly crumpled up in the jar of ammonia on Vera Lytton's dressingtable. I have here a

cylindrical glass jar in which I place some salammoniac and quicklime. I will wet it and heat it a little. That

"On one side of this third piece of paper I myself write with this mercurous nitrate solution. You see, I leave

no mark on the paper as I write. I fold it up and drop it into the jar and in a few seconds withdraw it. Here is

a very quick way of producing something like the slow result of sunlight with silver nitrate. The fumes of

ammonia have formed the precipitate of black mercurous nitrate, a very distinct black writing which is almost

indelible. That is what is technically called invisible rather than sympathetic ink."

We leaned over to read what he had written. It was the same as the note incriminating Dixon:

A servant entered with a telegram from New York. Scarcely stopping in his exposure, Kennedy tore it open,

"Here in this fourth bottle I have an acid solution of iron chloride, diluted until the writing is invisible when

dry," he hurried on. "I will just make a few scratches on this fourth sheet of paper so. It leaves no mark. But

it has the remarkable property of becoming red in vapour of sulphocyanide. Here is a longnecked flask of

the gas, made by sulphuric acid acting on potassium sulphocyanide. Keep back, Dr. Waterworth, for it would

be very dangerous for you to get even a whiff of this in your condition. Ah! See the scratches I made on the

Then hardly giving us more than a moment to let the fact impress itself on our minds, he seized the piece of

paper and dashed it into the jar of ammonia. When he withdrew it, it was just a plain sheet of white paper

again. The red marks which the gas in the flask had brought out of nothingness had been effaced by the

"In this way I can alternately make the marks appear and disappear by using the sulphocyanide and the

ammonia. Whoever wrote this note with Dr. Dixon's name on it must have had the doctor's reply to the

Thurston letter containing the words, 'This will not cure your headache.' He carefully traced the words,

holding the genuine note up to the light with a piece of paper over it, leaving out the word 'not' and using only

"But he forgot that after he had brought out the red writing by the use of the sulphocyanide, and though he

could count on Vera Lytton's placing the note in the jar of ammonia and hence obliterating the writing, while

at the same time the invisible writing in the mercurous nitrate involving Dr. Dixon's name would be brought

out by the ammonia indelibly on the other side of the note he forgot" Kennedy was now speaking eagerly

and loudly "that the sulphocyanide vapours could always be made to bring back to accuse him the words

Before the prosecutor could interfere, Kennedy had picked up the note found in the ammoniajar beside the

dying girl and had jammed the state's evidence into the longnecked flask of sulphocyanide vapour.

"Don't fear," he said, trying to pacify the now furious prosecutor, "it will do nothing to the Dixon writing.

When he withdrew the note, there was writing on both sides, the black of the original note and something in

"Before taking the headachepowder, be sure to place the contents of this paper in a jar with a little warm

"Hum," commented Craig, "this was apparently on the outside wrapper of a paper folded about some

"'Just drop the whole thing in, paper and all. Then if you feel a faintness from the medicine the ammonia will

quickly restore you. One spoonful of the headachepowder swallowed quickly is enough.'"

No name was signed to the directions, but they were plainly written, and "paper and all" was underscored

Craig pulled out some letters. "I have here specimens of writing of many persons connected with this case,

but I can see at a glance which one corresponds to the writing on this red deathwarrant by an almost

inhuman fiend. I shall, however, leave that part of it to the handwriting experts to determine at the trial.

Thurston, who was the man whom you saw enter the Boncour bungalow as you left the constant visitor?"

Thurston had not yet regained his selfcontrol, but with trembling forefinger he turned and pointed to Halsey

"Yes, ladies and gentlemen," cried Kennedy as he slapped the telegram that had just come from New York

down on the table decisively, "yes, the real client of Kerr & Kimmel, who bent Thurston to his purposes, was

Halsey Post, once secret lover of Vera Lytton till threatened by scandal in Danbridge Halsey Post, graduate

in technology, student of sympathetic inks, forger of the Vera Lytton letter and the other notes, and dealer in

cyanides in the silversmithing business, fortunehunter for the Willard millions with which to recoup the

Post & Vance losses, and hence rival of Dr. Dixon for the love of Alma Willard. That is the man who wielded

"Hello! Yes, this is Professor Kennedy. I didn't catch the name oh, yes President Blake of the Standard

Burglary Insurance Company. What really? The Branford pearls stolen? Maid chloroformed? Yes, I'll

It was through this brief and businesslike conversation over the telephone that Kennedy became involved in

At the mention of the Branford pearls I involuntarily stopped reading, and listened, not because I wanted to

pry into Craig's affairs, but because I simply couldn't help it. This was news that had not yet been given out to

the papers, and my instinct told me that there must be something more to it than the bare statement of the

"Some one has made a rich haul," I commented. "It was reported, I remember, when the Branford pearls were

bought in Paris last year that Mrs. Branford paid upward of a million francs for the collection."

"Blake is bringing up his shrewdest detective to cooperate with me in the case," added Kennedy. "Blake, I

understand, is the head of the Burglary Insurance Underwriters' Association, too. This will be a big thing,

It was the longest halfhour that I ever put in, waiting for Blake to arrive. When he did come, it was quite

Blake was one of those young old men who are increasingly common in business today. There was an air of

dignity and keenness about his manner that showed clearly how important he regarded the case. So anxious

was he to get down to business that he barely introduced himself and his companion, Special Officer

"Of course you haven't heard anything except what I have told you over the wire," he began, going right to

the point. "We were notified of it only this noon ourselves, and we haven't given it out to the papers yet,

though the local police in Jersey are now on the scene. The New York police must be notified tonight, so

that whatever we do must be done before they muss things up. We've got a clue that we want to follow up

In the terse, straightforward language of the uptodate man of efficiency, he sketched the situation for us.

"The Branford estate, you know, consists of several acres on the mountain back of Montclair, overlooking the

valley, and surrounded by even larger estates. Branford, I understand, is in the West with a party of

capitalists, inspecting a reported find of potash salts. Mrs. Branford closed up the house a few days ago and

left for a short stay at Palm Beach. Of course they ought to have put their valuables in a safe deposit vault.

But they didn't. They relied on a safe that was really one of the best in the market a splendid safe, I may

say. Well, it seems that while the master and mistress were both away the servants decided on having a good

time in New York. They locked up the house securely there's no doubt of that and just went. That is, they

all went except Mrs. Branford's maid, who refused to go for some reason or other. We've got all the servants,

but there's not a clue to be had from any of them. They just went off on a bust, that's clear. They admit it.

"Now, when they got back early this morning they found the maid in bed dead. There was still a strong

odour of chloroform about the room. The bed was disarranged as if there had been a struggle. A towel had

been wrapped up in a sort: of cone, saturated with chloroform, and forcibly held over the girl's nose. The next

thing they discovered was the safe blown open in a most peculiar manner. I won't dwell on that. We're

going to take you out there and show it to you after I've told you the whole story.

"Here's the real point. It looks all right, so far. The local police say that the thief or thieves, whoever they

were, apparently gained access by breaking a back window. That's mistake number one. Tell Mr. Kennedy

"It's just simply this," responded the detective. "When I came to look at the broken window I found that the

glass had fallen outside in such a way as it could not have fallen if the window had been broken from the

outside. The thing was a blind. Whoever did it got into the house in some other way and then broke the glass

"And," concluded Blake, taking his cigar between his thumb and forefinger and shaking it to give all possible

emphasis to his words, "we have had our agent at Palm Beach on longdistance 'phone twice this afternoon.

Mrs. Branford did no: go to Palm Beach. She did not engage rooms in any hotel there. And furthermore she

never had any intention of going there. By a fortunate circumstance Maloney picked up a hint from one of the

servants, and he has located her at the Grattan Inn in this city. In other words, Mrs. Branford has stolen her

own jewels from herself in order to collect the burglary insurance a commonenough thing in itself, but

"I know the maid," continued Blake. "I do not mean that Mrs. Branford did the actual stealing. Oh, no. That

was done by a yeggman of experience. He must have been above the average, but everything points to the

work of a yeggman. She hired him. But he overstepped the mark when he chloroformed the maid."

For a moment Kennedy said nothing. Then he remarked: "Let us go out and see the safe. There must be some

clue. After that I want to have a talk with Mrs. Branford. By the way," he added, as we all rose to go down to

Blake's car, "I once handled a life insurance case for the Great Eastern. I made the condition that I was to

handle it in my own way, whether it went for or against the company. That's understood, is it, before I

"Yes, yes," agreed Blake. "Get at the truth. We're not seeking to squirm out of meeting an honest liability.

Only we want to make a signal example if it is as we have every reason to believe. There has been altogether

too much of this sort of fake burglary to collect insurance, and as president of the underwriters it is my duty

Maloney nodded his head vigorously in assent with his chief. "Never fear," he murmured. "The truth is what

The Branford estate lay some distance back from the railroad station, so that, although it took longer to go by

automobile than by train, the car made us independent of the rather fitful night train service and the local

We found the house not deserted by the servants, but subdued. The body of the maid had been removed to a

local morgue, and a police officer was patrolling the grounds, though of what use that could be I was at a loss

Kennedy was chiefly interested in the safe. It was of the socalled "burglarproof" variety, spherical in

shape, and looking for all the world like a miniature piece of electrical machinery.

"I doubt if anything could have withstood such savage treatment as has been given to this safe," remarked

Craig as he concluded a cursory examination of it. "It shows great resistance to high explosives, chiefly, I

believe, as a result of its rounded shape. But nothing could stand up against such continued assaults."

He continued to examine the safe while we stood idly by. "I like to reconstruct my cases in my own mind,"

explained Kennedy, as he took his time in the examination. "Now, this fellow must have stripped the safe of

all the outer trimmings. His next move was to make a dent in the manganese surface across the joint where

the door fits the body. That must have taken a good many minutes of husky work. In fact, I don't see how he

could have done it without a sledgehammer and a hot chisel. Still, he did it and then "

"But the maid," interposed Maloney. "She was in the house. She would have heard and given an alarm."

For answer, Craig simply went to a baywindow and raised the curtain. Pointing to the lights of the next

house, far down the road, he said, "I'll buy the best cigars in the state if you can make them hear you on a

blustery night like last night. No, she probably did scream. Either at this point, or at the very start, the burglar

must have chloroformed her. I don't see any other way to explain it. I doubt if he expected such a tough

proposition as he found in this safe, but he was evidently prepared to carry it through, now that he was here

and had such an unexpectedly clear field, except for the maid. He simply got her out of the way, or his

Returning to the safe, he continued: "Well, anyhow, he made a furrow perhaps an inch and a half long and a

quarter of an inch wide and, I should say, not over an eighth of an inch deep. Then he commenced to burgle

in earnest. Under the dent he made a sort of little cup of red clay and poured in the 'soup' the nitroglycerin

so that it would run into the depression. Then he exploded it in the regular way with a battery and a fulminate

cap. I doubt if it did much more than discolour the metal at first. Still, with the true persistency of his kind, he

probably repeated the dose, using more and more of the 'soup' until the joint was stretched a little, and more

"Again and again he must have repeated and increased the charges. Perhaps he used two or three cups at a

time. By this time the outer door must have been stretched so as to make it easy to introduce the explosive.

No doubt he was able to use ten or twelve ounces of the stuff at a charge. It must have been more like

targetpractice than safeblowing. But the chance doesn't often come an empty house and plenty of time.

Finally the door must have bulged a fraction of an inch or so, and then a good big charge and the outer

portion was ripped off and the safe turned over. There was still two or three inches of manganese steel

protecting the contents, wedged in so tight that it must have seemed that nothing could budge it. But he must

have kept at it until we have the wreck that we see here," and Kennedy kicked the safe with his foot as he

Blake was all attention by this time, while Maloney gasped, "If I was in the safecracking business, I'd make

"And now," said Craig, "let us go back to New York and see if we can find Mrs. Branford."

"Of course you understand," explained Blake as we were speeding back, "that most of these cases of fake

robberies are among small people, many of them on the East Side among little jewellers or other tradesmen.

Still, they are not limited to any one class. Indeed, it is easier to foil the insurance companies when you sit in

the midst of finery and wealth, protected by a selfassuring halo of moral rectitude, than under less fortunate

circumstances. Too often, I'm afraid, we have goodnaturedly admitted the unsolved burglary and paid the

insurance claim. That has got to stop. Here's a case where we considered the moral hazard a safe one, and we

Our interview with Mrs. Branford was about as awkward an undertaking as I have ever been concerned with.

Imagine yourself forced to question a perfectly stunning woman, who was suspected of plotting so daring a

deed and knew that you suspected her. Resentment was no name for her feelings. She scorned us, loathed us.

It was only by what must have been the utmost exercise of her remarkable willpower that she restrained

herself from calling the hotel porters and having us thrown out bodily. That would have put a bad face on it,

so she tolerated our presence. Then, of course, the insurance company had reserved the right to examine

everybody in the household, under oath if necessary, before passing on the claim.

"This is an outrage," she exclaimed, her eyes flashing and her breast rising and falling with suppressed

emotion, "an outrage. When my husband returns I intend to have him place the whole matter in the hands of

the best attorney in the city. Not only will I have the full amount of the insurance, but I will have damages

and costs and everything the law allows. Spying on my every movement in this way it is an outrage! One

"One moment, Mrs. Branford," put in Kennedy, as politely as he could. "Suppose "

"Suppose nothing," she cried angrily. "I shall explain nothing, say nothing. What if I do choose to close up

that lonely big house in the suburbs and come to the city to live for a few days is it anybody's business

She shot him a scornful glance. "I suppose Mr. Branford went out to Arizona for the express purpose of

collecting insurance on my jewels," she added sarcastically with eyes that snapped fire.

"I was about to say," remarked Kennedy as imperturbably as if he were an automaton, "that supposing some

one took advantage of your absence to rob your safe, don't you think the wisest course would be to be

"And give just one plausible reason why you wished so much to have it known that you were going to Palm

Beach when in reality you were in New York?" pursued Maloney, while Kennedy frowned at his tactless

If she had resented Kennedy, she positively flew up in the air and commenced to aviate at Maloney's

questioning. Tossing her head, she said icily: "I do not know that you have been appointed my guardian, sir.

Let us consider this interview at an end. Goodnight," and with that she swept out of the room, ignoring

Maloney and bestowing one biting glance on Blake, who actually winced, so little relish did he have for this

I think we all felt like schoolboys who had been detected robbing a melonpatch or in some other heinous

offence, as we slowly filed down the hall to the elevator. A woman of Mrs. Branford's stamp so readily and

successfully puts one in the wrong that I could easily comprehend why Blake wanted to call on Kennedy for

Blake and Maloney were some distance ahead of us, as Craig leaned over to me and whispered: "That

Maloney is impossible. I'll have to shake him loose in some way. Either we handle this case alone or we

Righto," I agreed emphatically. "He's put his foot in it badly at the very start. Only, be decent about it,

"Trust me, Walter. I'll do it tactfully," he whispered, then to Blake he added as we overtook them: "Maloney

is right. The case is simple enough, after all. But we must find out some way to fasten the thing more closely

As Blake and Maloney disappeared down the street in the car, Kennedy wheeled about and walked

deliberately back into the Grattan Inn again. It was quite late. People were coming in from the theatres,

laughing and chatting gaily. Kennedy selected a table that commanded a view of the parlour as well as of the

"She was dressed to receive some one did you notice?" he remarked as we sat down and cast our eyes over

the dizzy array of inedibles on the card before us. "I think it is worth waiting a while to see who it is."

Having ordered what I did not want, I glanced about until my eye rested on a large pierglass at the other end

"Craig," I whispered excitedly, "Mrs. B. is in the writingroom I can see her in that glass at the end of the

"Get up and change places with me as quietly as you can, Walter," he said quickly. "I want to see her when

Kennedy was staring in rapt attention at the mirror. "There's a man with her, Walter," he said under his

breath. "He came in while we were changing places a finelooking chap. By Jove, I've seen him before

somewhere. His face and his manner are familiar to me. But I simply can't place him. Did you see her wraps

in the chair? No? Well, he's helping her on with them. They're going out. Garcon, l'addition vite."

We were too late, however, for just as we reached the door we caught a fleeting glimpse of a huge new

"Who was that man who just went out with the lady?" asked Craig of the negro who turned the

"Jack Delarue, sah in 'The Grass Widower,' sah," replied the doorman. "Yes, sah, he stays here once in a

"That complicates things considerably," he mused as we walked slowly down to the subway station. "Jack

"I've heard that 'The Grass Widower' isn't such a howling success as a moneymaker," I volunteered.

"Delarue has a host of creditors, no doubt. By the way, Craig," I exclaimed, "don't you think it would be a

good plan to drop down and see O'Connor? The police will have to be informed in a few hours now, anyhow.

"A good idea, Walter," agreed Craig, turning into a drugstore which had a telephone booth. "I'll just call

O'Connor was not at headquarters, but we finally found him at his home, and it was well into the small hours

when we arrived there. Trusting to the first deputy's honour, which had stood many a test, Craig began to

unfold the story. He had scarcely got as far as describing the work of the suspected hired yeggman, when

"Why, one of my best stoolpigeons told me today that there was something doing at a house in the

Chatham Square district that we have been watching for a long time. It's full of crooks, and today they've all

been as drunk as lords, a sure sign some one has made a haul and been generous with the rest. And one or two

of the professional 'fences' have been acting suspiciously, too. Oh, that explains it all right."

I looked at Craig as much as to say, "I told you so," but he was engrossed in what O'Connor was saying.

"You know," continued the police officer, "there is one particular 'fence' who runs his business under the

guise of a loanshark's office. He probably has a wider acquaintance among the big criminals than any other

man in the city. From him crooks can obtain anything from a jimmy to a safecracking outfit. I know that this

man has been trying to dispose of some unmounted pearls today among jewellers in Maiden Lane. I'll bet he

has been disposing of some of the Branford pearls, one by one. I'll follow that up. I'll arrest this 'fence' and

"And if you find out, will you go with me to that house near Chatham Square, providing it was some one in

O'Connor shook his head. "I'd better keep out of it. They know me too well. Go alone. I'll get that

stoolpigeon the Gay Cat is his name to go with you. I'll help you in any way. I'll have any number of

plainclothes men you want ready to raid the place the moment you get the evidence. But you'll never get any

The next morning Craig scarcely ate any breakfast himself and made me bolt my food most unceremoniously.

We were out in Montclair again before the commuters had started to go to New York, and that in spite of the

fact that we had stopped at his laboratory on the way and had got a package which he carried carefully.

Kennedy instituted a most thorough search of the house from cellar to attic in daylight. What he expected to

"Now, Walter," he said after he had ransacked the house, "there remains just one place. Here is this little wall

For an hour if not longer he worked over the combination, listening to the fall of the tumblers in the lock. It

was a simple little thing and one of the oldtimers in the industry would no doubt have opened it in short

order. The perspiration stood out on his forehead, so intent was he in working the thing. At last it yielded.

Carefully noting how the light shone on the wall safe, Craig unwrapped the package he had brought and

disclosed a camera. He placed it on a writingdesk opposite the safe, in such a way that it was not at all

"This is a camera with a newlyinvented betweenlens shutter of great illumination and efficiency," he

explained. "It has always been practically impossible to get such pictures, but this new shutter has so much

greater speed than anything ever invented before that it is possible to use it in detective work. I'll just run

these fine wires like a burglar alarm, only instead of having an alarm I'll attach them to the camera so that we

can get a picture. I've proved its speed up to one twothousandth of a second. It may or it may not work. If it

About noon we went down to Liberty Street, home of burglary insurance. I don't think Blake liked it very

much because Kennedy insisted on playing the lone hand, but he said nothing, for it was part of the

agreement. Maloney seemed rather glad than otherwise. He had been combing out some tangled clues of his

own about Mrs. Branford. Still, Kennedy smoothed things over by complimenting the detective on his

activity, and indeed he had shown remarkable ability in the first place in locating Mrs. Branford.

"I started out with the assumption that the Branfords must have needed money for some reason or other," said

Maloney. " So I went to the commercial agencies today and looked up Branford. I can't say he has been

prosperous; nobody has been in Wall Street these days, and that's just the thing that causes an increase in fake

burglaries. Then there is another possibility," he continued triumphantly. "I had a man up at the Grattan Inn,

and he reports to me that Mrs. Branford was seen with the actor Jack Delarue last night. I imagine they

quarrelled, for she returned alone, much agitated, in a taxicab. Any way you look at it, the clues are

promising whether she needed money for Branford's speculations or for the financing of that rake Delarue."

Maloney regarded Craig with the air of an expert who could afford to patronise a good amateur but after all

"Yes," agreed Blake, "you see, our original hypothesis was a pretty good one. Meanwhile, of course, the

"It would make our case a good deal stronger," remarked Kennedy quietly, "if we could discover some of the

stolen jewellery hidden somewhere by Mrs. Branford herself." He said nothing of his own unsuccessful

search through the house, but continued: "What do you suppose she has done with the jewels? She must have

put them somewhere before she got the yeggman to break the safe. She'd hardly trust them in his hands. But

she might have been foolish enough for that. Of course it's another possibility that he really got away with

them. I doubt if she has them at Grattan Inn, or even if she would personally put them in a safe deposit vault.

"That's right," meditated Maloney, apparently turning something over in his mind as if it were a new idea. "If

we only had some evidence, even part of the jewels that she had hidden, it would clinch the case. That's a

Craig said nothing, but I could see, or fancied I saw, that he was gratified at the thought that he had started

Maloney off on another trail, leaving us to follow ours unhampered. The interview with Blake was soon over,

"I want to see Mrs. Branford again," he said. "I think we can do better alone today than we did last night."

I must say I half expected that she would refuse to see us and was quite surprised when the page returned

with the request that we go up to her suite. It was evident that her attitude toward us was very different from

that of the first interview. Whether she was ruffled by the official presence of Blake or the officious presence

of Maloney, she was at least politely tolerant of us. Or was it that she at last began to realise that the toils

Kennedy was quick to see his advantage. "Mrs. Branford," he began, "since last night I have come into the

possession of some facts that are very important. I have heard that several loose pearls which may or may not

be yours have been offered for sale by a man on the Bowery who is what the yeggmen call a 'fence.'"

"Yeggmen 'fence'?" she repeated. "Mr. Kennedy, really I do not care to discuss the pearls any longer. It is

immaterial to me what becomes of them. My first desire is to collect the insurance. If anything is recovered I

am quite willing to deduct that amount from the total. But I must insist on the full insurance or the return of

the pearls. As soon as Mr. Branford arrives I shall take other steps to secure redress."

A boy rapped at the door and brought in a telegram which she tore open nervously. "He will be here in four

days," she said, tearing the telegram petulantly, and not at all as if she were glad to receive it. "Is there

She was tapping her foot on the rug as if anxious to conclude the interview. Kennedy leaned forward

"Do you remember that scene in 'The Grass Widower,'" he said slowly, "where Jack Delarue meets his

She coloured slightly, but instantly regained her composure. "Vaguely," she murmured, toying with the

"In real life," said Kennedy, his voice purposely betraying that he meant it to have a personal application,

"husbands do not forgive even rumours of ah shall we say affinities? much less the fact."

"In real life," she replied, "wives do not have affinities as often as some newspapers and plays would have us

"I saw Delarue after the performance last night," went on Kennedy inexorably. "I was not seen, but I saw, and

She was pacing the room now in unsuppressed excitement. "Will you never stop spying on me?" she cried.

"Must my every act be watched and misrepresented? I suppose a distorted version of the facts will be given to

my husband. Have you no chivalry, or justice, or or mercy?" she pleaded, stopping in front of Kennedy.

"Mrs. Branford," he replied coldly, "I cannot promise what I shall do. My duty is simply to get at the truth

about the pearls. If it involves some other person, it is still my duty to get at the truth. Why not tell me all that

She faced him, pale and haggard. "I have told," she repeated steadily. "I cannot tell any more I know

Was she lying? I was not expert enough in feminine psychology to judge, but down in my heart I knew that

the woman was hiding something behind that forced steadiness. What was it she was battling for? We had

It was after dinner when I met Craig at the laboratory. He had made a trip to Montclair again, where his stay

had been protracted because Maloney was there and he wished to avoid him. He had brought back the

camera, and had had another talk with O'Connor, at which he had mapped out a plan of battle.

"We are to meet the Gay Cat at the City Hall at nine o'clock," explained Craig laconically. "We are going to

visit a haunt of yeggmen, Walter, that few outsiders have ever seen. Are you game? O'Connor and his men

"I suppose so, I replied slowly. But what excuse are you going to have for getting into this yeggresort?"

"Simply that we are two newspaper men looking for an article, without names, dates, or places just a good

story of yeggmen and tramps. I've got a little well, we'll call it a little camera outfit that I'm going to sling

over my shoulder. You are the reporter, remember, and I'm the newspaper photographer. They won't pose for

us, of course, but that will be all right. Speaking about photographs, I got one out at Montclair that is

interesting. I'll show it to you later in the evening and in case anything should happen to me, Walter, you'll

find the original plate locked here in the top drawer of my desk. I guess we'd better be getting downtown."

The house to which we were guided by the Gay Cat was on a cross street within a block or two of Chatham

Square. If we had passed it casually in the daytime there would have been nothing to distinguish it above the

other ramshackle buildings on the street, except that the other houses were cluttered with children and

babycarriages, while this one was vacant, the front door closed, and the blinds tightly drawn. As we

approached, a furtive figure shambled from the basement areaway and slunk off into the crowd for the night's

I had had misgivings as to whether we would be admitted at all I might almost say hopes but the Gay Cat

succeeded in getting a ready response at the basement door. The house itself was the dilapidated ruin of what

had once been a fashionable residence in the days when society lived in the then suburban Bowery. The iron

handrail on the steps was still graceful, though rusted and insecure. The stones of the steps were decayed and

As we entered the low basement door, I felt that those who entered here did indeed abandon hope. Inside, the

evidences of the past grandeur were still more striking. What had once been a drawingroom was now the

general assembly room of the resort. Brokendown chairs lined the walls, and the floor was generously

sprinkled with sawdust. A huge potbellied stove occupied the centre of the room, and by it stood a box of

Three or four of the "guests " there was no "register" in this yeggman's hotel were seated about the stove

discussing something in a language that was English, to be sure, but of a variation that only a yegg could

understand. I noted the once handsome white marble mantel, now stained by age, standing above the unused

grate. Double foldingdoors led to what, I imagine, was once a library. Dirt and grime indescribable were

everywhere. There was the smell of old clothes and old cooking, the race odours of every nationality known

to the metropolis. I recalled a night I once spent in a Bowery lodginghouse for "local colour." Only this was

infinitely worse. No law regulated this house. There was an atmosphere of cheerlessness that a

Our guide introduced us. There was a dead silence as eight eyes were craftily fixed on us, sizing us up. What

should I say? Craig came to the rescue. To him the adventure was a lark. It was novel, and that was merit

It seemed to me innocuous enough, so I engaged in conversation with a man whom the Gay Cat had

introduced as the proprietor. Much of the slang I already knew by hearsay, such as "bulls" for policemen, a

"mouthpiece" for a lawyer to defend one when he is "ditched" or arrested; in fact, as I busily scribbled away I

"Oh, yes," replied the man. "Now here's the Gay Cat that's what we call a fellow who is the finder, who

enters a town ahead of the gang. Then there's Chi Fat that means he's from Chicago and fat. And Pitts Slim

"Aw, cut it," broke in one of the others. "Pitts Slim'll be here tonight. He'll give you the devil if he hears you

The proprietor began to talk of less dangerous subjects. Craig succeeded in drawing out from him the yegg

"It's here in this cipher," said the man, drawing out a dirty piece of paper. "It's well known, and you can have

this. Here's the key. It was written by 'Deafy' Smith, and the police pinched it."

Take ten or a dozen sticks of dynamite, crumble it up fine, and put it in a pan or washbowl, then pour over it

enough alcohol, wood or pure, to cover it well. Stir it up well with your hands, being careful to break all the

lumps. Leave it set for a few minutes. Then get a few yards of cheesecloth and tear it up in pieces and strain

the mixture through the cloth into another Vessel. Wring the sawdust dry and throw it away. The remains will

be the soup and alcohol mixed. Next take the same amount of water as you used of alcohol and pour it in.

"Very interesting," commented Craig. "Safeblowing in one lesson by correspondence school. The rest of

Just then a thin man in a huge, worn ulster came stamping upstairs from the basement, his collar up and his

hat down over his eyes. There was something indefinably familiar about him, but as his face and figure were

Catching a glimpse of us, he beat a retreat across the opposite end of the room, beckoning to the proprietor,

who joined him outside the door. I thought I heard him ask: "Who are those men? Who let them in?" but I

One by one the other occupants of the room rose and sidled out, leaving us alone with the Gay Cat. Kennedy

reached over to get a cigarette from my case and light it from one that I was smoking.

I said nothing, but I would have been willing to part with a large section of my bankaccount to be up on the

There was a rush from the halfopen door behind us. Suddenly everything turned black before me; my eyes

swam; I felt a stinging sensation on my head and a weak feeling about the stomach; I sank halfconscious to

the floor. All was blank, but, dimly, I seemed to be dragged and dropped down hard.

How long I lay there I don't know. Kennedy says it was not over five minutes. It may have been so, but to me

it seemed an age. When I opened my eyes I was lying on my back on a very dirty sofa in another room.

Kennedy was bending over me with blood streaming from a long deep gash on his head. Another figure was

"They blackjacked us," whispered Kennedy to me as I staggered to my feet. "Then they dragged us through a

"All right," I answered, bracing myself against a chair, for I was weak from the loss of blood, and dizzy. I

was sore in every joint and muscle. I looked about, only half comprehending. Then my recollection flooded

back with a rush. We had been locked in another room after the attack, and left to be dealt with later. I felt in

my pocket. I had left my watch at the laboratory, but even the dollar watch I had taken and the small sum of

Kennedy still had his camera slung over his shoulder, where he had fastened it securely.

Here we were, imprisoned, while Pitts Slim, the man we had come after, whoever he was, was making his

escape. Somewhere across the street was O'Connor, waiting in a room as we had agreed. There was only one

window in our room, and it opened on a miserable little dumbwaiter airshaft. It would be hours yet before

his suspicions would be aroused and he would discover which of the houses we were held in. Meanwhile

Kennedy calmly set up his tripod. One leg had been broken in the roughhouse, but he tied it together with

his handkerchief, now wet with blood. I wondered how he could think of taking a picture. His very

deliberation set me fretting and fuming, and I swore at him under my breath. Still, he worked calmly ahead. I

saw him take the black box and set it on the tripod. It was indistinct in the darkness. It looked like a camera,

and yet it had some attachment at the side that was queer, including a little lamp. Craig bent and attached

At last he seemed ready. "Walter," he whispered, "roll that sofa quietly over against the door. There, now the

table and that bureau, and wedge the chairs in. Keep that door shut at any cost. It's now or never here goes."

He stopped a moment and tinkered with the box on the tripod. "Hello! Hello! Hello! Is that you, O'Connor?"

I watched him in amazement. Was the man crazy? Had the blow affected his brain? Here he was, trying to

talk into a camera. A little signallingbell in the box commenced to ring, as if by spirit hands.

"Shut up in that room," growled a voice from outside the door. "By God, they've barricaded the door. Come

A smile of triumph lighted up Kennedy's pale face. "It works, it works," he cried as the little bell continued to

buzz. " This is a wireless telephone you perhaps have seen announced recently =20 good for several

hundred feet through walls and everything. The inventor placed it in a box easily carried by a man,

including a battery, and mounted on an ordinary camera tripod so that the user might well be taken for a

travelling photographer. It is good in one direction only, but I have a signallingbell here that can be rung

"O'Connor," he went on, "it is as I told you. It was Pitts Slim. He left here ten or fifteen minutes ago I don't

know by what exit, but I heard them say they would meet at the Central freightyards at midnight. Start your

plainclothes men out and send some one here, quick, to release us. We are locked in a room in the fourth or

fifth house from the corner. There's a secret passage to the yegghouse. The Gay Cat is still unconscious,

Jameson is groggy, and I have a bad scalp wound. They are trying to beat in our barricade. Hurry."

I think I shall never get straight in my mind the fearful five minutes that followed, the battering at the door,

the oaths, the scuffle outside, the crash as the sofa, bureau, table, and chairs all yielded at once and my

relief when I saw the squareset, honest face of O'Connor and half a dozen plainclothes men holding the

yeggs who would certainly have murdered us this time to protect their pal in his getaway. The fact is I didn't

think straight until we were halfway uptown, speeding toward the railroad freightyards in O'Connor's car.

The fresh air at last revived me, and I began to forget my cuts and bruises in the renewed excitement.

We entered the yards carefully, accompanied by several of the railroad's detectives, who met us with a couple

of police dogs. Skulking in the shadow under the high embankment that separated the yards with their

interminable lines of full and empty cars on one side and the San Juan Hill district of New York up on the

bluff on the other side, we came upon a party of three men who were waiting to catch the midnight"

The fight was brief, for we outnumbered them more than three to one. O'Connor himself snapped a pair of

One of our men flashed his bull'seye on the three prisoners. I caught myself as in a dream.

An hour later, at headquarters, after the pedigrees had been taken, the "mugging" done, and the jewels found

on the three yeggs checked off from the list of the Branford pearls, leaving a few thousand dollars' worth

unaccounted for, O'Connor led the way into his private office. There were Mrs. Branford and Blake, waiting.

Maloney sullenly refused to look at his former employer, as Blake rushed over and grasped Kennedy's hand,

asking eagerly: "How did you do it, Kennedy? This is the last thing I expected."

Craig said nothing, but slowly opened a now crumpled envelope, which contained an untoned print of a

We bent over to look. It was a photograph of Maloney in the act of putting something in the little wall safe in

Mrs. Branford's room. In a flash it dawned on me the quickshutter camera, the wire connected with the

wall safe, Craig's hint to Maloney that if some of the jewels were found hidden in a likely place in the house,

it would furnish the last link in the chain against her, Maloney's eager acceptance of the suggestion, and his

"Pitts Slim, alias Maloney," added Kennedy, turning to Blake, "your shrewdest private detective, was posing

in two characters at once very successfully. He was your trusted agent in possession of the most valuable

secrets of your clients, at the same time engineering all the robberies that you thought were fakes, and then

working up the evidence incriminating the victims themselves. He got into the Branford house with a

skeleton key, and killed the maid. The picture shows him putting this shieldshaped brooch in the safe this

afternoon here's the brooch. And all this time he was the leader of the most dangerous band of yeggmen in

"Mrs. Branford," exclaimed Blake, advancing and bowing most profoundly, "I trust that you understand my

awkward position? My apologies cannot be too humble. It will give me great pleasure to hand you a certified

Mrs. Branford bit her lip nervously. The return of the pearls did not seem to interest her in the least.

"And I, too, must apologise for the false suspicion I had of you and and depend on me, it is already

forgotten," said Kennedy, emphasising the "false" and looking her straight in the eyes.

She read his meaning and a look of relief crossed her face. "Thank you," she murmured simply, then

dropping her eyes she added in a lower tone which no one heard except Craig: "Mr. Kennedy, how can I ever

thank you? Another night, and it would have been too late to save me from myself."

By this time I was becoming used to Kennedy's strange visitors and, in fact, had begun to enjoy keenly the

uncertainty of not knowing just what to expect from them next. Still, I was hardly prepared one evening to

see a tall, nervous foreigner stalk noiselessly and unannounced into our apartment and hand his card to

"Dr. Nicholas Kharkoff hum er, Jameson, you must have forgotten to latch the door. Well, Dr. Kharkoff,

The tall Russian put his forefinger to his lips and, taking one of our good chairs, placed it by the door. Then

he stood on it and peered cautiously through the transom into the hallway. "I think I eluded him this time," he

exclaimed, as he nervously took a seat. "Professor Kennedy, I am being followed. Every step that I take

somebody shadows me, from the moment I leave my office until I return. It is enough to drive me mad. But

that is only one reason why I have come here tonight. I believe that I can trust you as a friend of justice a

He had included me in his earnest but somewhat vague query, so that I did not withdraw. Somehow,

"It is about Vassili Saratovsky, the father of the Russian revolution, as we call him, that I have come to

consult you," he continued quickly. "Just two weeks ago he was taken ill. It came on suddenly, a violent fever

which continued for a week. Then he seemed to grow better, after the crisis had passed, and even attended a

meeting of our central committee the other night. But in the meantime Olga Samarova, the little Russian

dancer, whom you have perhaps seen, fell ill in the same way. Samarova is an ardent revolutionist, you know.

This morning the servant at my own home on East Broadway was also stricken, and who knows? perhaps

it will be my turn next. For tonight Saratovsky had an even more violent return of the fever, with intense

shivering, excruciating pains in the limbs, and delirious headache. It is not like anything I ever saw before.

Again the Russian got on the chair and looked over the transom to be sure that he was not being overheard.

"I shall be only too glad to help you in any way I can," returned Kennedy, his manner expressing the genuine

interest that he never feigned over a particularly knotty problem in science and crime. "I had the pleasure of

meeting Saratovsky once in London. I shall try to see him the first thing in the morning."

Dr. Kharkoff's face fell. "I had hoped you would see him tonight. If anything should happen "

"I believe it is," whispered Kharkoff, leaning forward earnestly. "We can call a taxicab it will not take long,

At the street door Kharkoff stopped short and drew Kennedy back. "Look across the street in the shadow.

There is the man. If I start toward him he will disappear; he is very clever. He followed me from Saratovsky's

"There are two taxicabs waiting at the stand," suggested Kennedy. "Doctor, you jump in the first, and

It was done in a moment, and we were whisked away, to the chagrin of the figure, which glided impotently

out of the shadow in vain pursuit, too late even to catch the number of the cab.

"A promising adventure," commented Kennedy, as we bumped along over New York's uneven asphalt.

"No," I replied dubiously. "Will you guarantee that he will not blow us up with a bomb?"

"Grandmother!" replied Craig. "Why, Walter, he is the most gentle, engaging old philosopher "

"On the contrary," insisted Kennedy, somewhat nettled, "he is a patriarch, respected by every faction of the

revolutionists, from the fighting organisation to the believers in nonresistance and Tolstoy. I tell you,

Walter, the nation that can produce a man such as Saratovsky deserves and some day will win political

freedom. I have heard of this Dr. Kharkoff before, too. His life would be a short one if he were in Russia. A

remarkable man, who fled after those unfortunate uprisings in 1905. Ah, we are on Fifth Avenue. I suspect

that he is taking us to a club on the lower part of the avenue, where a number of the Russian reformers live,

Kharkoff's cab had stopped. Our quest had indeed brought us almost to Washington Square. Here we entered

an old house of the past generation. As we passed through the wide hall, I noted the high ceilings, the

oldfashioned marble mantels stained by time, the long, narrow rooms and dirtywhite woodwork, and the

Upstairs in a small back room we found the venerable Saratovsky, tossing, halfdelirious with the fever, on a

disordered bed. His was a striking figure in this sordid setting, with a high intellectual forehead and deepset,

glowing coals of eyes which gave a hint at the things which had made his life one of the strangest among all

the revolutionists of Russia and the works he had done among the most daring. The brown dye was scarcely

yet out of his flowing white beard a relic of his last trip back to his fatherland, where he had eluded the

Saratovsky extended a thin, hot, emaciated hand to us, and we remained standing. Kennedy said nothing for

"Professor Kennedy," he whispered, "there is some deviltry afoot. The Russian autocracy would stop at

He groaned and sank back, overcome by a chill that seemed to rack his poor gaunt form.

"Kazanovitch can tell Professor Kennedy something, Doctor. I am too weak to talk, even at this critical time.

Almost reverently we withdrew, and Kharkoff led us down the hall to another room. The door was ajar, and a

light disclosed a man in a Russian peasant's blouse, bending laboriously over a writingdesk. So absorbed

was he that not until Kharkoff spoke did he look up. His figure was somewhat slight and his face pointed and

"Ah!" he exclaimed. "You have recalled me from a dream. I fancied I was on the old mir with Ivan, one of

It flashed over me at once that this was the famous Russian novelist, Boris Kazanovitch. I had not at first

connected the name with that of the author of those gloomy tales of peasant life. Kazanovitch stood with his

"Night is my favourite time for writing," he explained. "It is then that the imagination works at its best."

I gazed curiously about the room. There seemed to be a marked touch of a woman's hand here and there; it

was unmistakable. At last my eye rested on a careless heap of dainty wearing apparel on a chair in the corner.

"Where is Nevsky?" asked Dr. Kharkoff, apparently missing the person who owned the garments.

"Ekaterina has gone to a rehearsal of the little play of Gershuni's escape from Siberia and betrayal by

Rosenberg. She will stay with friends on East Broadway tonight. She has deserted me, and here I am all

"Ah, Professor Kennedy, that is unfortunate," commented Kharkoff. "A brilliant woman is Mademoiselle

Nevsky devoted to the cause. I know only one who equals her, and that is my patient downstairs, the little

"Samarova is faithful Nevsky is a genius," put in Kazanovitch. Kharkoff said nothing for a time, though it

"Samarova," he said at length to us, "was arrested for her part in the assassination of Grand Duke Sergius and

thrown into solitary confinement in the fortress of St. Peter and St. Paul. They tortured her, the beasts

burned her body with their cigarettes. It was unspeakable. But she would not confess, and finally they had to

let her go. Nevsky, who was a student of biology at the University of St. Petersburg when Von Plehve was

assassinated, was arrested, but her relatives had sufficient influence to secure her release. They met in Paris,

"Next to Ekaterina's devotion to the cause is her devotion to science," said Kazanovitch, opening a door to a

little room. Then he added: "If she were not a woman, or if your universities were less prejudiced, she would

be welcome anywhere as a professor. See, here is her laboratory. It is the best we she can afford. Organic

chemistry, as you call it in English, interests me too, but of course I am not a trained scientist I am a

The laboratory was simple, almost bare. Photographs of Koch, Ehrlich, Metchnikoff, and a number of other

scientists adorned the walls. The deeply stained deal table was littered with beakers and testtubes.

"How is Saratovsky?" asked the writer of the doctor, aside, as we gazed curiously about.

Kharkoff shook his head gravely. "We have just come from his room. He was too weak to talk, but he asked

that you tell Mr. Kennedy anything that it is necessary he should know about our suspicions."

"It is that we are living with the sword of Damocles constantly dangling over our heads, gentlemen," cried

Kazanovitch passionately, turning toward us. "You will excuse me if I get some cigarettes downstairs? Over

A call from Saratovsky took the doctor away also at the same moment, and we were left alone.

"A queer situation, Craig," I remarked, glancing involuntarily at the heap of feminine finery on the chair, as I

"Queer for New York; not for St. Petersburg, was his laconic reply, as he looked around for another chair.

Everything was littered with books and papers, and at last he leaned over and lifted the dress from the chair to

place it on the bed, as the easiest way of securing a seat in the scantily furnished room.

A pocketbook and a letter fell to the floor from the folds of the dress. He stooped to pick them up, and I saw a

strange look of surprise on his face. Without a moment's hesitation he shoved the letter into his pocket and

A moment later Kazanovitch returned with a large box of Russian cigarettes. "Be seated, sir," he said to

Kennedy, sweeping a mass of books and papers off a large divan. "When Nevsky is not here the room gets

Amid the clouds of fragrant light smoke we waited for Kazanovitch to break the silence.

"Perhaps you think that the iron hand of the Russian prime minister has broken the backbone of revolution in

Russia," he began at length. "But because the Duma is subservient, it does not mean that all is over. Not at

all. We are not asleep. Revolution is smouldering, ready to break forth at any moment. The agents of the

government know it. They are desperate. There is no means they would not use to crush us. Their long arm

He rose and excitedly paced the room. Somehow or other, this man did not prepossess me. Was it that I was

prejudiced by a puritanical disapproval of the things that pass current in Old World morality? Or was it

merely that I found the great writer of fiction seeking the dramatic effect always at the cost of sincerity?

"Just what is it that you suspect?" asked Craig, anxious to dispense with the rhetoric and to get down to facts.

"Poison," replied Kazanovitch quickly. "Poison, and of a kind that even the poison doctors of St. Petersburg

have never employed. Dr. Kharkoff is completely baffled. Your American doctors two were called in to see

Saratovsky say it is the typhus fever. But Kharkoff knows better. There is no typhus rash. Besides" and

he leaned forward to emphasise his words " one does not get over typhus in a week and have it again as

Saratovsky has." I could see that Kennedy was growing impatient. An idea had occurred to him, and only

"Doctor," he said, as Kharkoff entered the room again, "do you suppose you could get some perfectly clean

testtubes and sterile bouillon from Miss Nevsky's laboratory? I think I saw a rack of tubes on the table."

"You will excuse us, Mr. Kazanovitch," apologised Kennedy briskly, "but I feel that I am going to have a

hard day tomorrow and by the way, would you be so kind as to come up to my laboratory some time

On the way out Craig took the doctor aside for a moment, and they talked earnestly. At last Craig motioned to

"Walter," he explained, "Dr. Kharkoff is going to prepare some cultures in the testtubes tonight so that I

can make a microscopic examination of the blood of Saratovsky, Samarova, and later of his servant. The

tubes will be ready early in the morning, and I have arranged with the doctor for you to call and get them if

I assented, and we started downstairs. As we passed a door on the second floor, a woman's voice called out,

"No, Olga, this is Nicholas," replied the doctor. "It is Samarova," he said to us as he entered.

In a few moments he rejoined us. "She is no better," he continued, as we again started away. "I may as well

tell you, Professor Kennedy, just how matters stand here. Samarova is head over heels in love with

Kazanovitch you heard her call for him just now? Before they left Paris, Kazanovitch showed some

partiality for Olga, but now Nevsky has captured him. She is indeed a fascinating woman, but as for me, if

Olga would consent to become Madame Kharkoff, it should be done tomorrow, and she need worry no

longer over her broken contract with the American theatre managers. But women are not that way. She

prefers the hopeless love. Ah, well, I shall let you know if anything new happens. Goodnight, and a

Nothing was said by either of us on our journey uptown, for it was late and I, at least, was tired.

But Kennedy had no intention of going to bed, I found. Instead, he sat down in his easy chair and shaded his

eyes, apparently in deep thought. As I stood by the table to fill my pipe for a last smoke, I saw that he was

carefully regarding the letter he had picked up, turning it over and over, and apparently debating with himself

"Some kinds of paper can be steamed open without leaving any trace," he remarked in answer to my

I read the address: "M. Alexander Alexandrovitch Orloff, Rue de , Paris, France."

"Letteropening has been raised to a fine art by the secret service agents of foreign countries," he continued.

"Why not take a chance? The simple operation of steaming a letter open is followed by reburnishing the flap

with a bone instrument, and no trace is left. I can't do that, for this letter is sealed with wax. One way would

be to take a matrix of the seal before breaking the wax and then replace a duplicate of it. No, I won't risk it.

Between two pieces of smooth wood, Craig laid the letter flat, so that the edges projected about a

thirtysecond of an inch. He flattened the projecting edge of the envelope, then roughened it, and finally slit

"You see, Walter, later I will place the letter back, apply a hair line of strong white gum, and unite the edges

He drew out what seemed to be a manuscript on very thin paper, and spread it out flat on the table before us.

Apparently it was a scientific paper on a rather unusual subject, "Spontaneous Generation of Life." It was in

*Many thanks for the copy of the paper by Prof. Betallion of Dijon on the artificial fertilization of the eggs of

frogs. I consider it a most important advance in the artificial generation of life.

I will not attempt to reproduce in facsimile the entire manuscript, for it is unnecessary, and, in fact, I merely

set down part of its contents here because it seemed so utterly valueless to me at the time. It went on to say:

While Betallion punctured the eggs with a platinum needle and developed them by means of electric

discharges, Loeb in America placed eggs of the seaurchin in a strong solution of sea water, then in a bath

where they were subjected to the action of butyric acid. Finally they were placed in ordinary sea water again,

where they developed in the natural manner. Delage at Roscorf used a liquid containing salts of magnesia and

In his latest book on the Origin of Life Dr. Charlton Bastian tells of using two solutions. One consisted of two

or three drops of dilute sodium silicate with eight drops of liquor fern pernitratis to one ounce of distilled

water. The other was composed of the same amount of the silicate with six drops of dilute phosphoric acid

and six grains of ammonium phosphate. He filled sterilised tubes, sealed them hermetically, and heated them

to 125 or 145 degrees, Centigrade, although 60 or 70 degrees would have killed any bacteria remaining in

Next he exposed them to sunlight in a south window for from two to four months. When the tubes were

opened Dr. Bastian found organisms in them which differed in no way from real bacteria. They grew and

multiplied. He contends that he has proved the possibility of spontaneous generation of life.

Then there were the experiments of John Butler Burke of Cambridge, who claimed that he had developed

"radiobes" in tubes of sterilised bouillon by means of radium emanations. Daniel Berthelot in France last year

announced that he had used the ultraviolet rays to duplicate nature's own process of chlorophyll

assimilation. He has broken up carbon dioxide and watervapour in the air in precisely the same way that the

Leduc at Nantes has made crystals grow from an artificial egg composed of certain chemicals. These crystals

show all the apparent vital phenomena without being actually alive. His work is interesting, for it shows the

"What do you make of it?" asked Kennedy, noting the puzzled look on my face as I finished reading.

"Well, recent research in the problem of the origin of life may be very interesting," I replied. "There are a

good many chemicals mentioned here I wonder if any of them is poisonous? But I am of the opinion that

"Exactly, Walter," said Kennedy in half raillery. "What I wanted to know was how you would suggest getting

Study as I might, I could make nothing out of it. Meanwhile Craig was busily figuring with a piece of paper

"I give it up, Craig," I said at last. "It is late. Perhaps we had better both turn in, and we may have some ideas

For answer he merely shook his head and continued to scribble and figure on the paper. With a reluctant

goodnight I shut my door, determined to be up early in the morning and go for the tubes that Kharkoff was

But in the morning Kennedy was gone. I dressed hastily, and was just about to go out when he hurried in,

showing plainly the effects of having spent a sleepless night. He flung an early edition of a newspaper on the

"Another East Side Bomb Outrage," I read. "While returning at a late hour last night from a patient, Dr.

Nicholas Kharkoff, of East Broadway, was severely injured by a bomb which had been placed in his hallway

earlier in the evening. Dr. Kharkoff, who is a wellknown physician on the East Side, states that he has been

constantly shadowed by some one unknown for the past week or two. He attributes his escape with his life to

the fact that since he was shadowed he has observed extreme caution. Yesterday his cook was poisoned and is

now dangerously ill. Dr. Kharkoff stands high in the Russian community, and it is thought by the police that

the bomb was placed by a Russian political agent, as Kharkoff has been active in the ranks of the

"After I found that it was too late to save Kharkoff and that he was well cared for at the hospital, I hurried to

Saratovsky's. Kharkoff had fortunately left the tubes there, and I got them. Here they are. As for the

manuscript in the letter, I was going to ask you to slip upstairs by some strategy and return it where I found it,

when you went for the tubes this morning. Kazanovitch was out, and I have returned it myself, so you need

"I hope so. I left a note asking him to bring Miss Nevsky, if possible, too. Come, let us breakfast and go over

to the laboratory. They may arrive at any moment. Besides, I'm interested to see what the tubes disclose."

Instead of Kazanovitch awaiting us at the laboratory, however, we found Miss Nevsky, haggard and worn.

She was a tall, striking girl with more of the Gaul than the Slav in her appearance. There was a slightly

sensuous curve to her mouth, but on the whole her face was striking and intellectual. I felt that if she chose

she could fascinate a man so that he would dare anything. I never before understood why the Russian police

feared the women revolutionists so much. It was because they were themselves, plus every man they could

Nevsky appeared very excited. She talked rapidly, and fire flashed from her grey eyes. "They tell me at the

club," she began, " that you are investigating the terrible things that are happening to us. Oh, Professor

Kennedy, it is awful! Last night I was staying with some friends on East Broadway. Suddenly we heard a

terrific explosion up the street. It was in front of Dr. Kharkoff's house. Thank Heaven, he is still alive! But I

"Early this morning I hastened to return to Fifth Avenue. As I entered the door of my room I could not help

thinking of the horrible fate of Dr. Kharkoff. For some unknown reason, just as I was about to push the door

farther open, I hesitated and looked I almost fainted. There stood another bomb just inside. If I had moved the

door a fraction of an inch it would have exploded. I screamed, and Olga, sick as she was, ran to my assistance

or perhaps she thought something had happened to Boris. It is standing there yet. None of us dares touch it.

Oh, Professor Kennedy, it is dreadful, dreadful. And I cannot find Boris Mr. Kazanovitch, I mean.

Saratovsky, who is like a father to us all, is scarcely able to speak. Dr. Kharkoff is helpless in the hospital.

"Calm yourself, Miss Nevsky," said Kennedy in a reassuring tone. "Sit down and let us plan. I take it that it

was a chemical bomb and not one with a fuse, or you would have a different story to tell. First of all, we must

He called up a nearby garage and ordered an automobile. "I will drive it myself," he ordered, "only send a

"No, no, no," she cried, running toward him, you must not risk it. It is bad enough that we should risk our

lives. But strangers must not. Think, Professor Kennedy. Suppose the bomb should explode at a touch! Had

we not better call the police and let them take the risk, even if it does get into the papers?"

"No," replied Kennedy firmly. "Miss Nevsky, I am quite willing to take the risk. Besides, here comes the

"You are too kind," she exclaimed. "Kazanovitch himself could do no more. How am I ever to thank you?"

On the back of the automobile Kennedy placed a peculiar oblong box, swung on two concentric rings

We rode quickly downtown, and Kennedy hurried into the house, bidding us stand back. With a long pair of

tongs he seized the bomb firmly. It was a tense moment. Suppose his hand should unnecessarily tremble, or

he should tip it just a bit it might explode and blow him to atoms. Keeping it perfectly horizontal he carried

"Wouldn't it be a good thing to fill the box with water?" I suggested, having read somewhere that that was the

"No," he replied, as he closed the lid, "that wouldn't do any good with a bomb of this sort. It would explode

under water just as well as in air. This is a safety bombcarrier. It is known as the Cardon suspension. It was

invented by Professor Cardono, an Italian. You see, it is always held in a perfectly horizontal position, no

matter how you jar it. I am now going to take the bomb to some safe and convenient place where I can

examine it at my leisure. Meanwhile, Miss Nevsky, I will leave you in charge of Mr. Jameson."

"Thank you so much," she said. "I feel better now. I didn't dare go into my own room with that bomb at the

door. If Mr. Jameson can only find out what has become of Mr. Kazanovitch, that is all I want. What do you

"Very well, then," Craig replied. " I will commission you, Walter, to find Kazanovitch. I shall be back again

shortly before noon to examine the wreck of Kharkoff's office. Meet me there. Goodbye, Miss Nevsky."

It was not the first time that I had had a roving commission to find some one who had disappeared in New

York. I started by inquiring for every possible place that he might be found. No one at the Fifth Avenue

house could tell me anything definite, though they were able to give me a number of places where he was

known. I consumed practically the whole morning going from one place to another on the East Side. Some of

the picturesque haunts of the revolutionists would have furnished material for a story in themselves. But

nowhere had they any word of Kazanovitch, until I visited a Polish artist who was illustrating his stories. He

had been there, looking very worn and tired, and had talked vacantly about the sketches which the artist had

showed him. After that I lost all trace of him again. It was nearly noon as I hurried to meet Craig at

Imagine my surprise to see Kazanovitch already there, seated in the wrecked office, furiously smoking

cigarettes and showing evident signs of having something very disturbing on his mind. The moment he

"Is Professor Kennedy coming soon?" he inquired eagerly. "I was going up to his laboratory, but I called up

Nevsky, and she said he would be here at noon." Then he put his hand up to my ear and whispered, "I have

"His name is Revalenko Feodor Revalenko. I saw him standing across the street in front of the house last

night after you had gone. When Kharkoff left, he followed him. I hurried out quietly and followed both of

them. Then the explosion came. This man slipped down a narrow street as soon as he saw Kharkoff fall. As

people were running to Kharkoff's assistance, I did the same. He saw me following him and ran, and I ran,

too, and overtook him. Mr. Jameson, when I looked into his face I could not believe it. Revalenko he is one

of the most ardent members of our organisation. He would not tell me why he had followed Kharkoff. I could

make him confess nothing. But I am sure he is an agent provocateur of the Russian government, that he is

secretly giving away the plans that we are making, everything. We have a plot on now perhaps he has

informed them of that. Of course he denied setting the bomb or trying to poison any of us, but he was very

I said nothing. Kazanovitch regarded me keenly to see what impression the story made on me, but I did not

It might be true, after all, I reasoned, the more I thought of it. I had heard that the Russian consulgeneral had

a very extensive spy system in the city. In fact, even that morning I had had pointed out to me some spies at

work in the public libraries, watching what young Russians were reading. I did not doubt that there were

At last Kennedy appeared. While Kazanovitch poured forth his story, with here and there, I fancied, an

elaboration of a particularly dramatic point, Kennedy quickly examined the walls and floor of the wrecked

office with his magnifyingglass. When he had concluded his search, he turned to Kazanovitch.

"Would it be possible," he asked, "to let this Revalenko believe that he could trust you, that it would be safe

for him to visit you tonight at Saratovsky's? Surely you can find some way of reassuring him."

"Yes, I think that can be arranged," said Kazanovitch. "I will go to him, will make him think I have

misunderstood him, that I have not lost faith in him, provided he can explain all. He will come. Trust me."

"Very well, then. Tonight at eight I shall be there," promised Kennedy, as the novelist and he shook hands.

"What do you think of the Revalenko story?" I asked of Craig, as we started uptown again.

"Well," I exclaimed, "this all is truly Russian. For intrigue they are certainly the leaders of the world today.

There is only one person that I have any real confidence in, and that is old Saratovsky himself. Somebody is

"That is what science will tell us tonight," was his brief reply. There was no getting anything out of Craig

Promptly at eight we met at the old house on Fifth Avenue. Kharkoff's wounds had proved less severe than

had at first been suspected, and, having recovered from the shock, he insisted on being transferred from the

hospital in a private ambulance so that he could be near his friends. Saratovsky, in spite of his high fever,

ordered that the door to his room be left open and his bed moved so that he could hear and see what passed in

the room down the hall. Nevsky was there and Kazanovitch, and even brave Olga Samarova, her pretty face

burning with the fever, would not be content until she was carried upstairs, although Dr. Kharkoff protested

vigorously that it might have fatal consequences. Revalenko, an enigma of a man, sat stolidly. The only thing

I noticed about him was an occasional look of malignity at Nevsky and Kazanovitch when he thought he was

It was indeed a strange gathering, the like of which the old house had never before harboured in all its varied

history. Every one was on the qui vive, as Kennedy placed on the table a small wire basket containing some

testtubes, each tube corked with a small wadding of cotton. There was also a receptacle holding a dozen

glasshandled platinum wires, a microscope, and a number of slides. The bomb, now rendered innocuous by

"First, I want you to consider the evidence of the bomb," began Kennedy. "No crime, I firmly believe, is ever

perpetrated without leaving some clue. The slightest trace, even a drop of blood no larger than a pinhead,

may suffice to convict a murderer. The impression made on a cartridge by the hammer of a pistol, or a single

hair found on the clothing of a suspected person, may serve as valid proof of crime.

"Until lately, however, science was powerless against the bombthrower. A bomb explodes into a thousand

parts, and its contents suddenly become gaseous. You can't collect and investigate the gases. Still, the

bombthrower is sadly deceived if he believes the bomb leaves no trace for the scientific detective. It is

difficult for the chemist to find out the secrets of a shattered bomb. But it can be done.

"I examined the walls of Dr. Kharkoff's house, and fortunately was able to pick out a few small fragments of

the contents of the bomb which had been thrown out before the flame ignited them. I have analysed them, and

find them to be a peculiar species of blastinggelatine. It is made at only one factory in this country, and I

have a list of purchasers for some time back. One name, or rather the description of an assumed name, in the

list agrees with other evidence I have been able to collect. Moreover, the explosive was placed in a lead tube.

He paused, and the revolutionists stared fixedly at the fragments of the now harmless bomb before them.

"The exploded bomb," concluded Craig, "was composed of the same materials as this, which I found

unexploded at the door of Miss Nevsky's room the same sort of lead tube, the same blastinggelatine. The

fuse, a long cord saturated in sulphur, was merely a blind. The real method of explosion was by means of a

chemical contained in a glass tube which was inserted after the bomb was put in place. The least jar, such as

opening a door, which would tip the bomb ever so little out of the horizontal, was all that was necessary to

explode it. The exploded bomb and the unexploded were in all respects identical the same hand set both."

A gasp of astonishment ran through the circle. Could it be that one of their own number was playing false? In

at least this instance in the warfare of the chemist and the dynamiter the chemist had come out ahead.

"But," Kennedy hurried along, "the thing that interests me most about this case is not the evidence of the

bombs. Bombs are common enough weapons, after all. It is the evidence of almost diabolical cunning that

has been shown in the effort to get rid of the father of the revolution, as you like to call him."

Craig cleared his throat and played with our feelings as a cat does with a mouse. "Strange to say, the most

deadly, the most insidious, the most elusive agency for committing murder is one that can be obtained and

distributed with practically no legal restrictions. Any doctor can purchase disease germs in quantities

sufficient to cause thousands and thousands of deaths without giving any adequate explanation for what

purpose he requires them. More than that, any person claiming to be a scientist or having some acquaintance

with science and scientists can usually obtain germs without difficulty. Every pathological laboratory

contains stores of disease germs, neatly sealed up in testtubes, sufficient to depopulate whole cities and even

nations. With almost no effort, I myself have actually cultivated enough germs to kill every person within a

radius of a mile of the Washington Arch down the street. They are here in these testtubes."

We scarcely breathed. Suppose Kennedy should let loose this deadly foe, these germs of death, whatever they

were? Yet that was precisely what some fiend incarnate had done, and that fiend was sitting in the room with

"Here I have one of the most modern darkfield microscopes," he resumed. "On this slide I have placed a

little pinpoint of a culture made from the blood of Saratovsky. I will stain the culture. Now er Walter,

look through the microscope under this powerful light and tell us what you see on the slide."

I bent over. "In the darkened field I see a number of germs like dancing points of coloured light," I said.

"Like a corkscrew," interrupted Kennedy, impatient to go on. "They are of the species known as Spirilla.

We looked, startled. There stood Saratovsky, more like a ghost than a living being. Kennedy sprang forward

It is the spirillum Obermeieri," said Kennedy, "the germ of the relapsing fever, but of the most virulent

Asiatic strain. Obermeyer, who discovered it, caught the disease and died of it, a martyr to science."

A shriek of consternation rang forth from Samarova. The rest of us paled, but repressed our feelings.

One moment," added Kennedy hastily. "Don't be unnecessarily alarmed. I have something more to say. Be

"This," he continued, "is the photographic copy of a message which, I suppose, is now on its way to the

Russian minister to France in Paris. Some one in this room besides Mr. Jameson and myself has seen this

In intense silence Kennedy passed before each of us, holding up the blueprint and searchingly scanning the

faces. No one betrayed by any sign that he recognised it. At last it came to Revalenko himself.

"The checkerboard, the checkerboard!" he cried, his eyes half starting from their sockets as he gazed at it.

"Yes," said Kennedy in a low tone, "the checkerboard. It took me some time to figure it out. It is a cipher that

would have baffled Poe. In fact, there is no means of deciphering it unless you chance to know its secret. I

happened to have heard of it a long time ago abroad, yet my recollection was vague, and I had to reconstruct

it with much difficulty. It took me all night to do it. It is a cipher, however, that is well known among the

"Fortunately I remember the crucial point, without which I should still be puzzling over it. It is that a

perfectly innocent message, on its face, may be used to carry a secret, hidden message. The letters which

compose the words, instead of being written continuously along, as we ordinarily write, have, as you will

observe if you look twice, breaks, here and there. These breaks in the letters stand for numbers.

"Thus the first words are 'Many thanks.' The first break is at the end of the letter 'n,' between it and the 'y.'

"When you come to the end of a word, if the stroke is down at the end of the last letter, that means no break;

if it is up, it means a break. The stroke at the end of the 'y' is plainly down. Therefore there is no break until

after the 't.' That gives us the number 2. So we get 1 next, and again 1, and still again 1; then 5; then 5; then 1;

"Now, take these numbers in pairs, thus 3 2; 1 1; 1 5; 5 1. By consulting this table you can arrive at

He held up a cardboard bearing the following arrangement of the letters of the alphabet:

"Thus," he continued, "3 2 means the third column and second line. That is 'H.' Then 1 1 is 'A'; 1 5 is

Not a soul stirred as Kennedy unfolded the cipher. What was the terrible secret in that scientific essay I had

"Even this can be complicated by choosing a series of fixed numbers to be added to the real numbers over

and over again, Or the order of the alphabet can be changed. However, we have the straight cipher only to

"And what for Heaven's sake does it reveal?" asked Saratovsky, leaning forward, forgetful of the fever that

Kennedy pulled out a piece of paper on which he had written the hidden message and read:

"Have successfully inoculated S. with fever. Public opinion America would condemn violence. Think best

death should appear natural. Samarova infected also. Cook unfortunately took dose in food intended

Kharkoff. Now have three cases. Shall stop there at present. Dangerous excite further suspicion health

Rapidly I eliminated in my mind the persons mentioned, as Craig read. Saratovsky of course was not guilty,

for the plot had centred about him. Nor was little Samarova, nor Dr. Kharkoff. I noted Revalenko and

Kazanovitch glaring at each other and hastily tried to decide which I more strongly suspected.

"Will get K.," continued Kennedy. "Think bomb perhaps all right. K. case different from S. No public

"So Kharkoff had been marked for slaughter," I thought. Or was "K." Kazanovitch? I regarded Revalenko

"Must have more money. Cable ten thousand rubles at once Russian consulgeneral. Will advise you plot

against Czar as details perfected here. Expect break up New York band with death of S."

If Kennedy himself had thrown a bomb or scattered broadcast the contents of the testtubes, the effect could

not have been more startling than his last quiet sentence and sentence it was in two senses.

It was as if a cable had snapped and a weight had fallen. Revalenko sprang up and grasped Kazanovitch by

"And forgive me for suspecting you," replied Kazanovitch, "but how did you come to shadow Kharkoff?"

"I ordered him to follow Kharkoff secretly and protect him," explained Saratovsky.

Olga and Ekaterina faced each other fiercely. Olga was trembling with emotion. Nevsky stood coldly,

defiantly. If ever there was a consummate actress it was she, who had put the bomb at her own door and had

"You traitress," cried Olga passionately, forgetting all in her outraged love. "You won his affections from me

by your false beauty yet all the time you would have killed him like a dog for the Czar's gold. At last you are

unmasked you Azeff in skirts. False friend you would have killed us all Saratovsky, Kharkoff

"Be still, little fool," exclaimed Nevsky contemptuously. "The spirilla fever has affected your brains. Bah! I

will not stay with those who are so ready to suspect an old comrade on the mere word of a charlatan. Boris

For answer, Kazanovitch deliberately turned his back on his lover of a moment ago and crossed the room.

"Olga," he pleaded, "I have been a fool. Some day I may be worthy of your love. Fever or not, I must beg

With a cry of delight the actress flung her arms about Boris, as he imprinted a penitent kiss on her warm lips.

"One moment, Ekaterina Nevsky," interposed Kennedy, as he picked up some vacuum tubes full of a

goldenyellow powder, that lay on the table. "The spirilla, as scientists now know, belong to the same family

as those which cause what we call, euphemistically, the 'black plague.' It is the same species as that of the

African sleeping sickness and the Philippine yaws. Last year a famous doctor whose photograph I see in the

next room, Dr. Ehrlich of Frankfort, discovered a cure for all these diseases. It will rid the blood of your

victims of the Asiatic relapsing fever germs in fortyeight hours. In these tubes I have the now famous

With a piercing shriek of rage at seeing her deadly work so quickly and completely undone, Nevsky flung

Her face still wore the same cold, contemptuous smile, as Kennedy gently withdrew a sharp scalpel from her

A big, powerful, red touringcar, with a shining brass bell on the front of it, was standing at the curb before

our apartment late one afternoon as I entered. It was such a machine as one frequently sees threading its

reckless course in and out among the trucks and streetcars, breaking all rules and regulations, stopping at

nothing, the bell clanging with excitement, policemen holding back traffic instead of trying to arrest the

I regarded it curiously for a moment, for everything connected with modern firefighting is interesting. Then

I forgot about it as I was whisked up in the elevator, only to have it recalled sharply by the sight of a strongly

built, grizzled man in a blue uniform with red lining. He was leaning forward, earnestly pouring forth a story

"And back of the whole thing, sir," I heard him say as he brought his large fist down on the table, "is a

Before I could close the door, Craig caught my eye, and I read in his look that he had a new case one that

interested him greatly. "Walter," he cried, "this is Fire Marshal McCormick. It's all right, McCormick. Mr.

A firebug! one of the most dangerous of criminals. The word excited my imagination at once, for the

newspapers had lately been making much of the strange and appalling succession of apparently incendiary

"Just what makes you think that there is a firebug one firebug, I mean back of this curious epidemic of

fires?" asked Kennedy, leaning back in his morrischair with his fingertips together and his eyes half closed

as if expecting a revelation from some subconscious train of thought while the fire marshal presented his

"Well, usually there is no rhyme or reason about the firebug," replied McCormick, measuring his words, "but

this time I think there is some method in his madness. You know the Stacey departmentstores and their

Craig nodded. Of course we knew of the gigantic drygoods combination. It had been the talk of the press at

the time of its formation, a few months ago, especially as it included among its organisers one very clever

business woman, Miss Rebecca Wend. There had been considerable opposition to the combination in the

trade, but Stacey had shattered it by the sheer force of his personality. McCormick leaned forward and,

shaking his forefinger to emphasise his point, replied slowly, "Practically every one of these fires has been

"But if it has gone as far as that," put in Kennedy, "surely the regular police ought to be of more assistance to

"I have called in the police," answered McCormick wearily, "but they haven't even made up their minds

whether it is a single firebug or a gang. And in the meantime, my God, Kennedy, the firebug may start a fire

"You say the police haven't a single clue to any one who might be responsible for the fires?" I asked, hoping

that perhaps the marshal might talk more freely of his suspicions to us than he had already expressed himself

"Absolutely not a clue except such as are ridiculous," replied McCormick, twisting his cap viciously.

"The first fire," he began, repeating his story for my benefit, although Craig listened quite as attentively as if

he had not heard it already, "was at the big store of Jones, Green & Co., the clothiers. The place was heavily

insured. Warren, the manager and real head of the firm, was out of town at the time."

The marshal paused as if to check off the strange facts in his mind as he went along.

"The next day another puzzling fire occurred. It was at the Quadrangle Cloak and Suit Co., on Fifth Avenue.

There had been some trouble, I believe, with the employees, and the company had discharged a number of

them. Several of the leaders have been arrested, but I can't say we have anything against any of them. Still,

Max Bloom, the manager of this company, insists that the fire was set for revenge, and indeed it looks as

much like a fire for revenge as the JonesGreen fire does" here he lowered his voice confidentially "for

"Then came the fire in the Slawson Building, a new loftbuilding that had been erected just off Fourth

Avenue. Other than the fact that the Stacey interests put up the money for financing this building there

seemed to be no reason for that fire at all. The building was reputed to be earning a good return on the

investment, and I was at a loss to account for the fire. I have made no arrests for it just set it down as the

work of a pure pyromaniac, a man who burns buildings for fun, a man with an inordinate desire to hear the

fireengines screech through the streets and perhaps get a chance to show a little heroism in 'rescuing'

tenants. However, the adjuster for the insurance company, Lazard, and the adjuster for the insured, Hartstein,

"Wait," replied the fire marshal. "That was only the beginning, you understand. A little later came a fire that

looked quite like an attempt to mask a robbery by burning the building afterward. That was in a silkhouse

near Spring Street. But after a controversy the adjusters have reached an agreement on that case. I mention

these fires because they show practically all the types of work of the various kinds of firebug insurance,

revenge, robbery, and plain insanity. But since the Spring Street fire, the character of the fires has been more

Here the fire marshal launched forth into a catalogue of fires of suspected incendiary origin, at least eight in

all. I took them down hastily, intending to use the list some time in a box head with an article in the Star.

When he had finished his list I hastily counted up the number of killed. There were six, two of them firemen,

McCormick passed his hand over his forehead to brush off the perspiration. "I guess this thing has got on my

nerves," he muttered hoarsely. " Everywhere I go they talk about nothing else. If I drop into the restaurant for

lunch, my waiter talks of it. If I meet a newspaper man, he talks of it. My barber talks of it everybody.

Sometimes I dream of it; other times I lie awake thinking about it. I tell you, gentlemen, I've sweated blood

"But," insisted Kennedy, "I still can't see why you link all these fires as due to one firebug. I admit there is an

epidemic of fires. But what makes you so positive that it is all the work of one man?"

"I was coming to that. For one thing, he isn't like the usual firebug at all. Ordinarily they start their fires with

excelsior and petroleum, or they smear the wood with paraffin or they use gasoline, benzine, or something of

that sort. This fellow apparently scorns such crude methods. I can't say how he starts his fires, but in every

case I have mentioned we have found the remains of a wire. It has something to do with electricity but

what, I don't know. That's one reason why I think these fires are all connected. Here's another."

McCormick pulled a dirty note out of his pocket and laid it on the table. We read it eagerly:

Hello, Chief! Haven't found the firebug yet, have you? You will know who he is only when I am dead and the

fires stop. I don't suppose you even realise that the firebug talks with you almost every day about catching the

firebug. That's me. I am the real firebug, that is writing this letter. I am going to tell you why I am starting

these fires. There's money in it an easy living. They never caught me in or anywhere, so you might as well

"Queer sense of humour," growled McCormick, gritting his teeth. "Here's another I got today:

Say, Chief: We are going to get busy again and fire a big departmentstore next. How does that suit Your

"Well, sir, when I got that letter," cried McCormick, "I was almost ready to ring in a doublenine alarm at

once they have me that bluffed out. But I said to myself, 'There's only one thing to do see this man

Kennedy.' So here I am. You see what I am driving at? I believe that firebug is an artist at the thing, does it

for the mere fun of it and the ready money in it. But more than that, there must be some one back of him.

"That's definite there are only a score or so of them, and the Stacey interests control several. Mac, I'll tell

you what I'll do. Let me sit up with you tonight at headquarters until we get an alarm. By George, I'll see

The fire marshal leaped to his feet and bounded over to where Kennedy was seated. With one hand on Craig's

shoulder and the other grasping Craig's hand, he started to speak, but his voice choked.

"Thanks," he blurted out huskily at last. "My reputation in the department is at stake, my promotion, my

"Not a word, sir," said Kennedy, his features working sympathetically. "Tonight at eight I will go on watch

McCormick had so far regained his composure as to say a hearty farewell. He left the room as if ten years had

been lifted off his shoulders. A moment later he stuck his head in the door again. "I'll have one of the

After the marshal had gone, we sat for several minutes in silence. Kennedy was reading and rereading the

notes, scowling to himself as if they presented a particularly perplexing problem. I said nothing, though my

mind was teeming with speculations. At length he placed the notes very decisively on the table and snapped

"What?" I queried, still drumming away at my typewriter, copying the list of incendiary fires against the

moment when the case should be complete and the story released for publication, as it were.

"This note," he explained, picking up the first one and speaking slowly, "was written by a woman."

I swung around in my chair quickly. "Get out!" I exclaimed sceptically. "No woman ever used such phrases.

"It is possible to determine sex from handwriting in perhaps eighty cases out of a hundred," Kennedy went

on, enjoying my discomfiture. "Once I examined several hundred specimens of writing to decide that point to

my satisfaction. Just to test my conclusions I submitted the specimens to two professional graphologists. I

found that our results were slightly different, but I averaged the thing up to four cases out of five correct. The

socalled sex signs are found to be largely influenced by the amount of writing done, by age, and to a certain

extent by practice and professional requirements, as in the conventional writing of teachers and the rapid

hand of bookkeepers. Now in this case the person who wrote the first note was only an indifferent writer.

Therefore the sex signs are pretty likely to be accurate. Yes, I'm ready to go on the stand and swear that this

"Then there's a woman in the case, and she wrote the first note for the firebug is that what you mean?" I

"Exactly. There nearly always is a woman in the case, somehow or other. This woman is closely connected

with the firebug. As for the firebug, whoever it may be, he performs his crimes with cold premeditation and,

as De Quincey said, in a spirit of pure artistry. The lust of fire propels him, and he uses his art to secure

wealth. The man may be a tool in the hands of others, however. It's unsafe to generalise on the meagre facts

we now have. Oh, well, there is nothing we can do just yet. Let's take a walk, get an early dinner, and be back

Not a word more did Kennedy say about the case during our stroll or even on the way downtown to fire

We found McCormick anxiously waiting for us. High up in the sandstone tower at headquarters, we sat with

him in the maze of delicate machinery with which the fire game is played in New York. In great glass cases

were glistening brass and nickel machines with discs and levers and bells, tickers, sheets of paper, and

annunciators without number. This was the firealarm telegraph, the "roulettewheel of the fire demon," as

"All the alarms for fire from all the boroughs, both from the regular alarmboxes and the auxiliary systems,

come here first over the network of three thousand miles or more of wire nerves that stretch out through the

"Three," "six," "seven," the numbers appeared on the annunciator. The clerks in the office moved as if they

were part of the mechanism. Twice the alarm was repeated, being sent out all over the city. McCormick

"That alarm was not in the shopping district," he explained, much relieved. "Now the firehouses in the

particular district where that fire is=20have received the alarm instantly. Four engines, two

hookandladders, a watertower, the battalion chief, and a deputy are hurrying to that fire. Hello, here

Even before the clerks could respond, McCormick had dragged us to the door. In another instant we were

wildly speeding uptown, the bell on the front of the automobile clanging like a fireengine, the siren horn

going continuously, the engine of the machine throbbing with energy until the water boiled in the radiator.

"Let her out, Frank," called McCormick to his chauffeur, as we rounded into a broad and now almost deserted

Like a red streak in the night we flew up that avenue, turned into Fourteenth Street on two wheels, and at last

were on Sixth Avenue. With a jerk and a skid we stopped. There were the engines, the hosecarts, the

hookandladders, the salvage corps, the police establishing fire lineseverything. But where was the fire?

The crowd indicated where it ought to be it was Stacey's. Firemen and policemen were entering the huge

"I did," replied a night watchman on the third landing. "Saw a light in the office on the third floor back

We had at last come to the office. It was dark and deserted, yet with the lanterns we could see the floor of the

Kennedy caught his foot in something. It was a loose wire on the floor. He followed it. It led to an

"Not here. They're turned on from downstairs, and they're off for the night. I'll go down if you want me to and

"No," roared Kennedy. "Stay where you are until I follow the wire to the other end."

At last we came to a little office partitioned off from the main room. Kennedy carefully opened the door. One

I sniffed, expecting to smell illuminatinggas. Instead, a peculiar, sweetish odour pervaded the air. For a

"Ether," exclaimed Kennedy. "Stand back farther with those lights and hold them up from the floor."

For a moment he seemed to hesitate as if at loss what to do next. Should he open the door and let this highly

inflammable gas out or should he wait patiently until the natural ventilation of the little office had dispelled

While he was debating he happened to glance out of the window and catch sight of a drugstore across the

"Walter," he said to me, "hurry across there and get all the saltpeter and sulphur the man has in the shop.

I lost no time in doing so. Kennedy dumped the two chemicals into a pan in the middle of the main office,

about threefifths saltpeter and twofifths sulphur, I should say. Then he lighted it. The mass burned with a

bright flame but without explosion. We could smell the suffocating fumes from it, and we retreated. For a

"That's very good extinguishingpowder," explained Craig as we sniffed at the odour. "It yields a large

amount of carbon dioxide and sulphur dioxide. Now before it gets any worse I guess it's safe to open the

door and let the ether out. You see this is as good a way as any to render safe a room full of inflammable

vapour. Come, we'll wait outside the main office for a few minutes until the gases mix.

It seemed hours before Kennedy deemed it safe to enter the office again with a light. When we did so, we

made a rush for the little cubbyhole of an office at the other end. On the floor was a little can of ether,

evaporated of course, and beside it a small apparatus apparently used for producing electric sparks.

"So, that's how he does it," mused Kennedy, fingering the can contemplatively. "He lets the ether evaporate

in a room for a while and then causes an explosion from a safe distance with this little electric spark. There's

where your wire comes in, McCormick. Say, my man, you can switch on the lights from downstairs, now."

As we waited for the watchman to turn on the lights I exclaimed, "He failed this time because the electricity

"But the flames which the night watchman saw, what of them?" put in McCormick, considerably mystified.

"Oh, that was before the fellow tried to touch off the ether vapour," explained Kennedy. "He had to make

sure of his work of destruction first and, judging by the charred papers about, he did it well. See, he tore

leaves from the ledgers and lighted them on the floor. There was an object in all that. What was it? Hello!

He bent down and examined it carefully. "Memoranda of some kind, I guess. I'll save this burnt paper and

Search as we might, we could find no other trace of the firebug, and at last we left. Kennedy carried the

"There'll be no more fires tonight, McCormick," he said. "But I'll watch with you every night until we get

this incendiary. Meanwhile I'll see what I can decipher, if anything, in this burnt paper."

Next day McCormick dropped in to see us again. This time he had another note, a disguised scrawl which

Chief I'm not through. Watch me get another store yet. I won't fall down this time.

writing this time like the second note," was all he said. "McCormick, since we know where the lightning is

going to strike, don't you think it would be wiser to make our headquarters in one of the enginehouses in

The fire marshal agreed, and that night saw us watching at the firehouse nearest the departmentstore

Kennedy and I were assigned to places on the hosecart and engine, respectively, Kennedy being in the

hosecart so that he could be with McCormick. We were taught to descend one of the four brass poles hand

under elbow, from the dormitory on the second floor. They showed us how to jump into the "turnouts" a

pair of trousers opened out over the high top boots. We were given helmets which we placed in regulation

fashion on our rubber coats, turned inside out with the right armhole up. Thus it came about that Craig and I

"Now, Walter," said Kennedy, "as long as we have gone so far, we'll 'roll' to every fire, just like the regulars.

It proved to be a remarkably quiet evening with only one little blaze in a candyshop on Seventh Avenue.

Most of the time we sat around trying to draw the men out about their thrilling experiences at fires. But if

there is one thing the fireman doesn't know it is the English language when talking about himself. It was quite

We had scarcely fallen into a half doze in our strange surroundings when the gong downstairs sounded. It was

We could hear the rapid clatter of the horses' hoofs as they were automatically released from their stalls and

the collars and harness mechanically locked about them. All was stir, and motion, and shouts. Craig and I had

bounded awkwardly into our paraphernalia at the first sound. We slid ungracefully down the pole and were

pushed and shoved into our places, for scientific management in a New York firehouse has reached one

The oiltorch had been applied to the engine, and it rolled forth, belching flames. I was hanging on for dear

life, now and then catching sight of the driver urging his plunging horses onward like a charioteer in a

modern Ben Hur race. The tender with Craig and McCormick was lost in the clouds of smoke and sparks that

trailed behind us. On we dashed until we turned into Sixth Avenue. The glare of the sky told us that this time

"I'll be hanged if it isn't the Stacey store again, shouted the man next me on the engine as the horses lunged

up the avenue and stopped at the allotted hydrant. It was like a war game. Every move had been planned out

by the firestrategists, even down to the hydrants that the engines should take at a given fire.

Already several floors were aflame, the windows glowing like openhearth furnaces, the glass bulging and

cracking and the flames licking upward and shooting out in long streamers. The hose was coupled up in an

instant, the water turned on, and the limp rubber and canvas became as rigid as a post with the high pressure

of the water being forced through it. Company after company dashed into the blazing "fireproof" building,

Twenty or thirty men must have disappeared into the stifle from which the police retreated. There was no

haste, no hesitation. Everything moved as smoothly as if by clockwork. Yet we could not see one of the men

who had disappeared into the burning building. They had been swallowed up, as it were. For that is the way

with the New York firemen. They go straight to the heart of the fire. Now and then a stream of a hose spat out

of a window, showing that the men were still alive and working. About the ground floors the redhelmeted

salvage corps were busy covering up what they could of the goods with rubber sheets to protect them from

water. Doctors with black bags and white trousers were working over the injured. Kennedy and I were busy

Above the shrill whistle for more coal I heard a voice shout, "Began with an explosion it's the fire bug, all

right." I looked up. It was McCormick, dripping and grimy, in a high state of excitement, talking to Kennedy.

I had been so busy trying to make myself believe that I was really of some assistance about the engine that I

had not taken time to watch the fire itself. It was now under control. The sharp and scientific attack had

The three of us drove through the scorching door, past twisted masses of iron still glowing dull red in the

smoke and steam, while the water hissed and spattered and slopped. The smoke was still suffocating, and

every once in a while we were forced to find air close to the floor and near the wall. My hands and arms and

Coughing and choking, we followed McCormick to what had been the heart of the fire, the office. Men with

picks and axes and all manner of cunningly devised instruments were hacking and tearing at the walls and

woodwork, putting out the last smouldering sparks while a thousand gallons of water were pouring in at

There on the floor of the office lay a charred, shapeless, unrecognisable mass. What was that gruesome odour

in the room? Burned human flesh? I recoiled from what had once been the form of a woman.

McCormick uttered a cry, and as I turned my eyes away, I saw him holding a wire with the insulation burned

off. He had picked it up from the wreckage of the floor. It led to a bent and blackened can that had once

My mind worked rapidly, but McCormick blurted out the words before I could form them, "Caught in her

Kennedy said nothing, but as one of the firemen roughly but reverently covered the remains with a rubber

sheet, he stooped down and withdrew from the breast of the woman a long letterfile. "Come, let us go," he

Back in our apartment again we bathed our racking heads, gargled our parched throats, and washed out our

bloodshot eyes, in silence. The whole adventure, though still fresh and vivid in my mind, seemed unreal, like

a dream. The choking air, the hissing steam, the ghastly object under the tarpaulin what did it all mean?

It was nearly dawn when the door opened and McCormick came in and dropped wearily into a chair. "Do you

"Oh, several people. Stacey recognised her at once. Then Hartstein, the adjuster for the insured, and Lazard,

the adjuster for the company, both of whom had had more or less to do with her in connection with settling

up for other fires, recognised her. She was a very clever woman, was Miss Wend, and a very important cog in

the Stacey enterprises. And to think she was the firebug, after all. I can hardly believe it."

"Why believe it?" echoed McCormick. "Stacey has found shortages in his books due to the operation of her

departments. The bookkeeper who had charge of the accounts in her department, a man named Douglas, is

missing. She must have tried to cover up her operations by fires and juggling the accounts. Failing in that she

tried to destroy Stacey's store itself, twice. She was one of the few that could get into the office unobserved.

Oh, it's a clear case now. To my mind, the heavy vapours of ether they are heavier than air, you know

must have escaped along the surface of the floor last night and become ignited at a considerable distance

from where she expected. She was caught in a backdraught, or something of the sort. Well, thank God,

Kennedy had laid the letterfile on the table. "Nothing. Only I found this embedded in Miss Wend's breast

"We haven't come to the end of this case yet," replied Craig evasively. "On the contrary, we have just got our

first good clue. No, McCormick, your theory will not hold water. The real point is to find this missing

bookkeeper at any cost. You must persuade him to confess what he knows. Offer him immunity he was

McCormick was not hard to convince. Tired as he was, he grabbed up his hat and started off to put the final

"I must get a couple of hours' sleep," he yawned as he left us," but first I want to start something toward

I was too exhausted to go to the office. In fact, I doubt if I could have written a line. But I telephoned in a

story of personal experiences at the Stacey fire and told them they could fix it up as they chose and even sign

About noon McCormick came in again, looking as fresh as if nothing had happened. He was used to it.

"Fine," said Kennedy, "and can you produce him at any time when it is necessary?"

"Let me tell you what I have done. I went down to the district attorney from here routed him out of bed. He

has promised to turn loose his accountants to audit the reports of the adjusters, Hartstein and Lazard, as well

as to make a cursory examination of what Stacey books there are left. He says he will have a preliminary

"It's the Douglas problem that is difficult, though. I haven't seen him, but one of the centraloffice men, by

shadowing his wife, has found that he is in hiding down on the East Side. He's safe there; he can't make a

move to get away without being arrested. The trouble is that if I arrest him, the people higher up will know it

and will escape before I can get his confession and the warrants. I'd much rather have the whole thing done at

once. Isn't there some way we can get the whole Stacey crowd together, make the arrest of Douglas and nab

the guilty ones in the case, all together without giving them a chance to escape or to shield the real firebug?"

Kennedy thought a moment. "Yes," he answered slowly. "There is. If you can get them all together at my

laboratory tonight at, say, eight o'clock, I'll give you two clear hours to make the arrest of Douglas, get the

confession, and swear out the warrants. All that you'll need to do is to let me talk a few minutes this afternoon

with the judge who will sit in the night court tonight. I shall install a little machine on his desk in the court,

and we'll catch the real criminal he'll never get a chance to cross the state line or disappear in any way. You

see, my laboratory will be neutral ground. I think you can get them to come, inasmuch as they know the

When next I saw Kennedy it was late in the afternoon, in the laboratory. He was arranging something in the

top drawer of a flattop desk. It seemed to be two instruments composed of many levers and discs and

magnets, each instrument with a roll of paper about five inches wide. On one was a sort of stylus with two

silk cords attached at right angles to each other near the point. On the other was a capillary glass tube at the

It was quite like old times to see Kennedy at work in his laboratory preparing for a "seance." He said nothing

as I watched him curiously, and I asked nothing. Two sets of wires were attached to each of the instruments,

and these he carefully concealed and led out the window. Then he arranged the chairs on the opposite side of

"Walter," he said, "when our guests begin to arrive I want you to be master of ceremonies. Simply keep them

on the opposite side of the desk from me. Don't let them move their chairs around to the right or left. And,

above all, leave the doors open. I don't want any one to be suspicious or to feel that he is shut in in any way.

Stacey arrived first in a limousine which he left standing at the door of the Chemistry Building. Bloom and

Warren came together in the latter's car. Lazard came in a taxicab which he dismissed, and Hartstein came up

I seated them as Kennedy had directed. Kennedy pulled out the extension on the left of his desk and leaned

his elbow on it as he began to apologise for taking up their time at such a critical moment. As near as I could

make out, he had quietly pulled out the top drawer of his desk on the right, the drawer in which I had seen

him place the complicated apparatus. But as nothing further happened I almost forgot about it in listening to

"It is sometimes possible," he continued, "to decipher writing on burned papers if one is careful. The

processes of colour photography have recently been applied to obtain a legible photograph of the writing on

burned manuscripts which are unreadable by any other known means. As long as the sheet has not been

entirely disintegrated positive results can be obtained every time. The charred manuscript is carefully

arranged in as near its original shape as possible, on a sheet of glass and covered with a drying varnish, after

"By using carefully selected colour screens and orthochromatic plates a perfectly legible photograph of the

writing may be taken, although there may be no marks on the charred remains that are visible to the eye. This

is the only known method in many cases. I have here some burned fragments of paper which I gathered up

Stacey coughed in acknowledgment. As for Craig, he did not mince matters in telling what he had found.

"Some were notes given in favour of Rebecca Wend and signed by Joseph Stacey," he said quietly. "They

represent a large sum of money in the aggregate. Others were memoranda of Miss Wend's, and still others

were autograph letters to Miss Wend of a very incriminating nature in connection with the fires by another

Here he laid the "A. Spark" letters on the desk before him. "Now," he added "some one, in a spirit of bravado,

sent these notes to the fire marshal at various times. Curiously enough, I find that the handwriting of the first

one bears a peculiar resemblance to that of Miss Wend, while the second and third, though disguised also,

No one moved. But I sat aghast. She had been a part of the conspiracy, after all, not a pawn. Had they played

"Taking up next the remarkable succession of fires," resumed Kennedy, "this case presents some unique

features. In short, it is a clear case of what is known as a 'firebug trust.' Now just what is a firebug trust?

Well, it is, as near as I can make out, a combination of dishonest merchants and insurance adjusters engaged

in the business of deliberately setting fires for profit. These arson trusts are not the ordinary kind of firebugs

whom the firemen plentifully damn in the fixed belief that onefourth of all fires are kindled by incendiaries.

Such 'trusts' exist all over the country. They have operated in Chicago, where they are said to have made

seven hundred and fifty thousand dollars in one year. Another group is said to have its headquarters in Kansas

City. Others have worked in St. Louis, Pittsburgh, Cleveland, and Buffalo. The fire marshals of Illinois,

Kentucky, Tennessee, and Ohio have investigated their work. But until recently New York has been

singularly free from the organised work of this sort. Of course we have plenty of firebugs and pyromaniacs in

a small way, but the big conspiracy has never come to my personal attention before.

"Now, the JonesGreen fire, the Quadrangle fire, the Slawson Building fire, and the rest, have all been set for

one purpose to collect insurance. I may as well say right here that some people are in bad in this case, but

that others are in worse. Miss Wend was originally a party to the scheme. Only the trouble with Miss Wend

was that she was too shrewd to be fooled. She insisted that she have her full share of the pickings. In that case

it seems to have been the whole field against Miss Wend, not a very gallant thing, nor yet according to the

"A certain person whose name I am frank to say I do not know yet conceived the idea of destroying the

obligations of the Stacey companies to Miss Wend as well as the incriminating evidence which she held of

the 'firebug trust,' of which she was a member up to this time. The plan only partly succeeded. The chief

"What was the result? Miss Wend, who had been hand in glove with the 'trust,' was now a bitter enemy,

perhaps would turn state's evidence. What more natural than to complete the conspiracy by carrying out the

coup and at the same time get rid of the dangerous enemy of the conspirators? I believe that Miss Wend was

lured under some pretext or other to the Stacey store on the night of the big fire. The person who wrote the

second and third 'A. Spark' letters did it. She was murdered with this deadly instrument" Craig laid the

letterfile on the table "and it was planned to throw the entire burden of suspicion on her by asserting that

"Pooh!" exclaimed Stacey, smoking complacently at his cigar. "We have been victimised in those fires by

people who have grudges against us, labour unions and others. This talk of an arson trust is bosh yellow

journalism. More than that, we have been systematically robbed by a trusted head of a department, and the

fire at Stacey's was the way the thief took to cover er her stealings. At the proper time we shall produce

Kennedy fumbled in the drawer of the desk, then drew forth a long strip of paper covered with figures. "All

the Stacey companies," he said, "have been suffering from the depression that exists in the trade at present.

They are insolvent. Glance over that, Stacey. It is a summary of the preliminary report of the accountants of

Stacey gasped. "How did you get it? The report was not to be ready until nine o'clock, and it is scarcely a

"Never mind how I got it. Go over it with the adjusters, anybody. I think you will find that there was no

shortage in Miss Wend's department, that you were losing money, that you were in debt to Miss Wend, and

that she would have received the lion's share of the proceeds of the insurance if the firebug scheme had

"We absolutely repudiate these figures as fiction," said Stacey, angrily turning toward Kennedy after a

Perhaps, then, you'll appreciate this," replied Craig, pulling another piece of paper from the desk. "I'll read it.

'Henry Douglas, being duly sworn, deposes and says that one' we'll call him 'Blank' for the present 'with

force and arms did feloniously, wilfully, and intentionally kill Rebecca Wend whilst said Blank was wilfully

Kennedy laid it down so that only the signature showed. The name was signed in a full round hand, "Henry

"It's a forgery," cried Stacey in rage. "Not an hour before I came into this place I saw Henry Douglas. He had

signed no such paper then. He could not have signed it since, and you could not have received it. I brand that

Kennedy stood up and reached down into the open drawer on the right of his desk. From it he lifted the two

Gentlemen," he said, " this is the last scene of the play you are enacting. You see here on the desk an

instrument that was invented many years ago, but has only recently become really practical. It is the

telautograph the longdistance writer. In this new form it can be introduced into the drawer of a desk for

the use of any one who may wish to make inquiries, say, of clerks without the knowledge of a caller. It makes

it possible to write a message under these conditions and receive an answer concerning the personality or

business of the individual seated at one's elbow without leaving the desk or seeming to make inquiries.

"With an ordinary pencil I have written on the paper of the transmitter. The silk cord attached to the pencil

regulates the current which controls a pencil at the other end of the line. The receiving pencil moves

simultaneously with my pencil. It is the principle of the pantograph cut in half, one half here, the other half at

"While we have been sitting here I have had my right hand in the halfopen drawer of my desk writing with

this pencil notes of what has transpired in this room. These notes, with other evidence, have been

simultaneously placed before Magistrate Brenner in the night court. At the same time, on this other, the

receiving, instrument the figures of the accountants written in court have been reproduced here. You have

seen them. Meanwhile. Douglas was arrested, taken before the magistrate, and the information for a charge of

murder in the first degree perpetrated in committing arson has been obtained. You have seen it. It came in

"And now," continued Kennedy, "I see that the pencil of the receiving instrument is writing again. Let us see

We bent over. The writing started: "County of New York. In the name of the People of the State of New York

Kennedy did not wait for us to finish reading. He tore the writing from the telautograph and waved it over his

"It is a warrant. You are all under arrest for arson. But you, Samuel Lazard, are also under arrest for the

murder of Rebecca Wend and six other persons in fires which you have set. You are the real firebug, the tool

of Joseph Stacey, perhaps, but that will all come out in the trial. McCormick, McCormick," called Craig, "it's

Lazard and Stacey made a sudden dash for the door, and in an instant they were in Stacey's waiting car. The

chauffeur took off the brake and pulled the lever. Suddenly Craig's pistol flashed, and the chauffeur's arms

As McCormick with the police loomed up, a moment late, out of the darkness and after a short struggle

clapped the irons on Stacey and Lazard in Stacey's own magnificently upholstered car, I remarked

reproachfully to Kennedy: "But, Craig, you have shot the innocent chauffeur. Aren't you going to attend to

"Oh," replied Kennedy nonchalantly, "don't worry about that. They were only rocksalt bullets. They didn't

penetrate far. They'll sting for some time, but they're antiseptic, and they'll dissolve and absorb quickly."

It was our old friend First Deputy O'Connor who thus in his bluff way introduced a wellgroomed and

The formalities were quickly over. "Mr. Burke and I are old friends," explained O'Connor. "We try to work

together when we can, and very often the city department can give the government service a lift, and then

again it's the other way as it was in the trunkmurder mystery. Show Professor Kennedy the 'queer,' Tom."

Burke drew a wallet out of his pocket, and from it slowly and deliberately selected a crisp, yellowbacked

hundreddollar bill. He laid it flat on the table before us. Diagonally across its face from the upper left to

Not being initiated into the secrets of the gentle art of "shoving the queer," otherwise known as passing

"A counterfeit, Walter," explained Kennedy. "That's what they do with bills when they wish to preserve them

Without a word Burke handed Kennedy a pocket magnifyingglass, and Kennedy carefully studied the bill.

He was about to say something when Burke opened his capacious wallet again and laid down a Bank of

Again Kennedy looked through the glass with growing amazement written on his face, but before he could

say anything, Burke laid down an express moneyorder on the International Express Company.

"I say," exclaimed Kennedy, putting down the glass, "stop! How many more of these are there?"

"Not the worst? Good heavens, man, next you'll tell me that the government is counterfeiting its own notes!

Burke chewed a pencil thoughtfully, jotted down some figures on a piece of paper, and thought some more.

"Of course I can't say exactly, but from hints I have received here and there I should think that a safe bet

"Whew," whistled Kennedy, "that's going some. And I suppose it is all salted away in some portable form.

What an inventory if must be good bills, gold, diamonds, and jewellery. This is a stake worth playing for."

"Yes," broke in O'Connor, "but from my standpoint, professionally, I mean, the case is even worse than that.

It's not the counterfeits that bother us. We understand that, all right. But," and he leaned forward earnestly

and brought his fist down hard on the table with a resounding Irish oath, "the fingerprint system, the

infallible fingerprint system, has gone to pieces. We've just imported this new 'portrait parle' fresh from

Paris and London, invented by Bertillon and all that sort of thing it has gone to pieces, too. It's a fine case,

this is, with nothing left of either scientific or unscientific criminalcatching to rely on. There what do you

"You'll have to tell me the facts first," said Kennedy. "I can't diagnose your disease until I know the

"It's like this," explained Burke, the detective in him showing now with no effort at concealment. "A man, an

Englishman, apparently, went into a downtown banker's office about three months ago and asked to have

some English banknotes exchanged for American money. After he had gone away, the cashier began to get

suspicious. He thought there was something phoney in the feel of the notes. Under the glass he noticed that

the little curl on the 'e' of the 'Five' was missing. It's the protective mark. The watermark was quite equal to

that of the genuine maybe better. Hold that note up to the light and see for yourself.

"Well, the next day, down to the Custom House, where my office is, a man came who runs a swell

gamblinghouse uptown. He laid ten brandnew bills on my desk. An Englishman had been betting on the

wheel. He didn't seem to care about winning, and he cashed in each time with a new onehundreddollar bill.

Of course he didn't care about winning. He cared about the change that was his winning. The bill on the

table is one of the original ten, though since then scores have been put into circulation. I made up my mind

"Then within a week, in walked the manager of the Mozambique Hotel he had been stung with the fake

"We had him under arrest once we thought. A general alarm was sent out, of course, to all the banks and

bankinghouses. But the man was too clever to turn up in that way again. In one gamblingjoint which

women frequent a good deal, a classy dame who might have been a duchess or a well, she was a pretty

good loser and always paid with hundreddollar bills. Now, you know women are not good losers. Besides,

the hundreddollarbill story had got around among the gamblinghouses. This joint thought it worth taking

a chance, so they called me up on the 'phone, extracted a promise that I'd play fair and keep O'Connor from

raiding them, but wouldn't I please come up and look over the dame of the yellow bills? Of course I made a

jump at it. Sure enough, they were the same counterfeits. I could tell because the silk threads were drawn in

"Now, here comes the strange part of it. Let me see, this must have been over two months ago. I followed her

out to a suburban town, Riverwood along the Hudson, and to a swell country house overlooking the river,

private drive, stone gate, hedges, old trees, and all that sort of thing. A sportylooking Englishman met her at

"I waited a day or so, but nothing more happened, and I began to get anxious. Perhaps I was a bit hasty.

Anyhow I watched my chance and made an arrest of both of them when they came to New York on a

shopping expedition. You should have heard that Englishman swear. I didn't know such language was

possible. But in his pocket we found twenty more of those hundreddollar bills that was all. Do you think

he owned up? Not a bit of it. He swore he had picked the notes up in a pocketbook on the pier as he left the

steamer. I laughed. But when he was arraigned in court he told the magistrate the same story and that he had

advertised his find at the time. Sure enough, in the files of the papers we discovered in the lostandfound

column the ad, just as he claimed. We couldn't even prove that he had passed the bills. So the magistrate

refused to hold them, and they were both released. But we had had them in our power long enough to take

their fingerprints and get descriptions and measurements of them, particularly by this new 'portrait parle '

system. We felt we could send out a strange detective and have him pick them out of a crowd you know the

Kennedy nodded, and I made a mental note of finding out more about the "portrait parle" later.

"Oh, yes," resumed Burke. "Of course I sent copies of the fingerprints to Scotland Yard. Within two weeks

they replied that one set belonged to William Forbes, a noted counterfeiter, who, they understood, had sailed

for South Africa but had never arrived there. They were glad to learn that he was in America, and advised me

to look after him sharply. The woman was also a noted character Harriet Wollstone, an adventuress."

"Yes, a few days after they were arrested the man had an accident with his car. It was said he was cranking

the engine and that it kicked back and splintered the bone in his forearm. Anyhow, he went about with his

"They gave my man the slip that night in their fast touringcar. You know automobiles have about made

shadowing impossible in these days. The house was closed up, and it was said by the neighbours that

Williams and Mrs. Williams as they called themselves had gone to visit a specialist in Philadelphia. Still,

as they had a year's lease on the house, I detailed a man to watch it more or less all the time. They went to

Philadelphia all right; some of the bills turned up there. But we saw nothing of them.

"A short time ago, word came to me that the house was open again. It wasn't two hours later that the

telephone rang like mad. A Fifth Avenue jeweller had just sold a rope of pearls to an Englishwoman who

paid for it herself in crisp new onehundreddollar bills. The bank had returned them to him that very

afternoon counterfeits. I didn't lose any time making a second arrest up at the house of mystery at Riverwood.

I had the county authorities hold them and, now, O'Connor, tell the rest of it. You took the fingerprints up

O'Connor cleared his throat as if something stuck in it, in the telling. "The Riverwood authorities refused to

hold them," he said with evident chagrin. "As soon as I heard of the arrest I started up myself with the

fingerprint records to help Burke. It was the same man, all right I'll swear to that on a stack of Bibles. So

will Burke. I'll never forget that snub nose the concave nose, the nose being the first point of identification

in the 'portrait park.' And the ears, too oh, it was the same man, all right. But when we produced the

London fingerprints which tallied with the New York fingerprints which we had made believe it or not,

He laid the prints on the table. Kennedy examined them closely. His face clouded. It was quite evident that he

was stumped, and he said so. "There are some points of agreement," he remarked, "but more points of

difference. Any points of difference are usually considered fatal to the fingerprint theory.

"We had to let the man go," concluded Burke. "We could have held the woman, but we let her go, too,

because she was not the principal in the case. My men are shadowing the house now and have been ever since

then. But the next day after the last arrest, a man from New York, who looked like a doctor, made a visit. The

secretservice man on the job didn't dare leave the house to follow him, but as he never came again perhaps it

The telephone rang. It was Burke's office calling him. As he talked we could gather that something tragic

must have happened at Riverwood, and we could hardly wait until he had finished.

"There has been an accident up there," he remarked as he hung up the receiver rather petulantly. "They

returned in the car this afternoon with a large package in the back of the tonneau. But they didn't stay long.

After dark they started out again in the car. The accident was at the bad railroad crossing just above

Riverwood. It seems Williams's car got stalled on the track just as the Buffalo express was due. No one saw

it, but a man in a buggy around the bend in the road heard a woman scream. He hurried down. The train had

smashed the car to bits. How the woman escaped was a miracle, but they found the man's body up the tracks,

horribly mangled. It was Williams, they say. They identified him by the clothes and by letters in his pockets.

But my man tells me he found a watch on him with 'W. F.' engraved on it. His hands and arms and head must

"I guess that winds the case up, eh?" exclaimed O'Connor with evident chagrin. "Where's the woman?"

"They said she was in the little local hospital, but not much hurt. Just the shock and a few bruises."

O'Connor's question seemed to suggest an idea to Burke, and he reached for the telephone again. "Riverwood

297," he ordered; then to us as he waited he said: "We must hold the woman. Hello, 297? The hospital? This

is Burke of the secret service. Will you tell my man, who must be somewhere about, that I would like to have

him hold that woman who was in the auto smash until I can what? Gone? The deuce!"

He hung up the receiver angrily. "She left with a man who called for her about half an hour ago," he said.

"There must be a gang of them. Forbes is dead, but we must get the rest. Mr. Kennedy, I'm sorry to have

bothered you, but I guess we can handle this alone, after all. It was the fingerprints that fooled us, but now

that Forbes is out of the way it's just a straight case of detective work of the old style which won't interest

"On the contrary," answered Kennedy, "I'm just beginning to be interested. Does it occur to you that, after all,

"Exactly; that's just what I said not dead. Now stop and think a moment. Would the great Forbes be so

foolish as to go about with a watch marked 'W. F.' if he knew, as he must have known, that you would

"Yes," agreed Burke, "all we have to go by is his watch found on Williams. I suppose there is some

"Who is this third man who comes in and with whom Harriet Wollstone goes away so willingly?" put in

Burke nodded. "Been closed ever since the last arrest. There's a servant who goes in now and then, but the car

"I should like to watch that house myself for a while," mused Kennedy. "I suppose you have no objections to

"Of course not. Go ahead," said Burke. "I will go along with you if you wish, or my man can go with you."

"No," said Kennedy, "too many of us might spoil the broth. I'll watch alone tonight and will see you in the

"Walter, what's on for tonight?"he asked when they had gone. "How are you fixed for a little trip out to

"To tell the truth, I had an engagement at the College Club with some of the fellows."

It was a raw night, and we bundled ourselves up in old football sweaters under our overcoats. Half an hour

"By the way, Craig," I asked, "I didn't like to say anything before those fellows. They'd think I was a dub. But

I don't mind asking you. What is this 'portrait parle' they talk about, anyway?"

"Why, it's a wordpicture a 'spoken picture,' to be literal. I took some lessons in it at Bertillon's school

when I was in Paris. It's a method of scientific apprehension of criminals, a sort of necessary addition and

completion to the methods of scientific identification of them after they are arrested. For instance, in trying to

pick out a given criminal from his mere description you begin with the nose. Now, noses are all concave,

straight, or convex. This Forbes had a nose that was concave, Burke says. Suppose you were sent out to find

him. Of all the people you met, we'll say, roughly, twothirds wouldn't interest you. You'd pass up all with

straight or convex noses. Now the next point to observe is the ear. There are four general kinds of

earstriangular, square, oval, and round, besides a number of other differences which are clear enough after

you study ears. This fellow is a pale man with square ears and a peculiar lobe to his ear. So you wouldn't give

a second glance to, say, threefourths of the squareeared people. So by a process of elimination of various

features, the eyes, the mouth, the hair, wrinkles, and so forth, you would be able to pick your man out of a

"Oh, yes. That's why I'm taking up this case. I believe science can really be used to detect crime, any crime,

and in the present instance I've just pride enough to stick to this thing until until they begin to cut ice on the

Styx. Whew, but it will be cold out in the country tonight, Walter speaking about ice.

It was quite late when we reached Riverwood, and Kennedy hurried along the dimly lighted streets, avoiding

the main street lest some one might be watching or following us. He pushed on, following the directions

Burke had given him. The house in question was a large, newly built affair of concrete, surrounded by trees

and a hedge, directly overlooking the river. A bitter wind swept in from the west, but in the shadow of an

Of all fruitless errands this seemed to me to be the acme. The house was deserted; that was apparent, I

thought, and I said so. Hardly had I said it when I heard the baying of a dog. It did not come from the house,

"It's in the garage," whispered Kennedy. "I can hardly think they would go away and leave a dog locked up in

Hour after hour we waited. Midnight passed, and still nothing happened. At last when the moon had

disappeared under the clouds, Kennedy pulled me along. We had seen not a sign of life in the house, yet he

observed all the caution he would have if it had been well guarded. Quickly we advanced over the open space

to the house, approaching in the shadow as much as possible, on the side farthest from the river.

Tiptoeing over the porch, Kennedy tried a window. It was fastened. Without hesitation he pulled out some

instruments. One of them was a rubber suctioncup, which he fastened to the windowpane. Then with a very

fine diamondcutter he proceeded to cut out a large section. It soon fell and was prevented from smashing on

the floor by the string and the suctioncup. Kennedy put his hand in and unlatched the window, and we

Cautiously Kennedy pressed the button of his pocket storagebattery lamp and flashed it slowly about the

room. It was a sort of library, handsomely furnished. At last the beam of light rested on a huge desk at the

opposite end. It seemed to interest Kennedy, and we tiptoed over to it. One after another he opened the

Quietly as he could, he jimmied it open, muffling the jimmy in a felt cloth that was on a table. Most people

do not realise the disruptive force that there is in a simple jimmy. I didn't until I saw the solid drawer with its

heavy lock yield with just the trace of a noise. Kennedy waited an instant and listened. Nothing happened.

Inside the drawer was a most nondescript collection of useless articles. There were a number of pieces of fine

sponge, some of them very thin and cut in a flat oval shape, smelling of lysol strongly; several bottles, a set of

sharp little knives, some paraffin, bandages, antiseptic gauze, cotton in fact, it looked like a firstaid kit. As

soon as he saw it Kennedy seemed astonished but not at a loss to account for it.

"I thought he left that sort of thing to the doctors, but I guess he took a hand in it himself," he muttered,

continuing to fumble with the knives in the drawer. It was no time to ask questions, and I did not. Kennedy

rapidly stowed away the things in his pockets. One bottle he opened and held to his nose. I could distinguish

immediately the volatile smell of ether. He closed it quickly, and it, too, went into his pocket with the remark,

"Somebody must have known how to administer an anaesthetic probably the Wollstone woman."

A suppressed exclamation from Kennedy caused me to look. The drawer had a false back. Safely tucked

away in it reposed a tin box, one of those socalled strongboxes which are so handy in that they save a

burglar much time and trouble in hunting all over for the valuables he has come after. Kennedy drew it forth

Even that did not seem to satisfy Kennedy, who continued to scrutinise the walls and corners of the room as if

Suddenly a piercing scream of a woman rang out upstairs. "Help! Help! There's some one in the house! Billy,

I felt an arm grasp me tightly, and for a moment a chill ran over me at being caught in the nefarious work of

breaking and entering a dwellinghouse at night. But it was only Kennedy, who had already tucked the

With a leap he dragged me to the open window, cleared it, vaulted over the porch, and we were running for

the clump of woods that adjoined the estate on one side. Lights flashed in all the windows of the house at

once. There must have been some sort of electriclight system that could be lighted instantly as a

As we lost ourselves in the woods I gave a last glance back and saw a lantern carried from the house to the

garage. As the door was unlocked I could see, in the moonlight, a huge dog leap out and lick the hands and

Quickly we now crashed through the frozen underbrush. Evidently Kennedy was making for the station by a

direct route across country instead of the circuitous way by the road and town. Behind us we could hear a

"By the Lord, Walter," cried Kennedy, for once in his life thoroughly alarmed, "it's a bloodhound, and our

Closer it came. Press forward as we might, we could never expect to beat that dog.

I did so and he smeared first mine and then his with the ether. Then we doubled on our trail once or twice and

"The dog will never be able to pick up the ether as our trail," panted Kennedy; "that is, if he is any good and

On we hurried from the woods to the now dark and silent town. It was indeed fortunate that the dog had been

thrown off our scent, for the station was closed, and, indeed, if it had been open I am sure the station agent

would have felt more like locking the door against two such tramps as we were, carrying a tin box and

pursued by a dog, than opening it for us. The best we could do was to huddle into a corner until we succeeded

Neither of us could wait to open the tin box in our apartment, and instead of going uptown Kennedy decided

it would be best to go to a hotel near the station. Somehow we succeeded in getting a room without exciting

suspicion. Hardly had the bellboy's footsteps ceased echoing in the corridor than Kennedy was at work

wrenching off the lid of the box with such leverage as the scanty furnishings of the room afforded.

At last it yielded, and we looked in curiously, expecting to find fabulous wealth in some form. A few hundred

dollars and a rope of pearls lay in it. It was a good "haul," but where was the vast spoil the counterfeiters had

"Perhaps we had better snatch a couple of hours' sleep," was all that Craig said, stifling his chagrin.

Over and over in my mind I was turning the problem of where they had hidden the spoil. I dozed off, still

thinking about it and thinking that, even should they be captured, they might have stowed away perhaps a

It was still early for New York when Kennedy roused me by talking over the telephone in the room. In fact, I

Burke was at the other end of the wire. His man had just reported that something had happened during the

night at Riverwood, but he couldn't give a very clear account. Craig seemed to enjoy the joke immensely as

The last words I heard were: "All right. Send a man up here to the station one who knows all the

descriptions of these people. I'm sure they will have to come into town today, and they will have to come by

After a hasty breakfast we met Burke's man and took our places at the exit from the train platforms. Evidently

Kennedy had figured out that the counterfeiters would have to come into town for some reason or other. The

incoming passengers were passing us in a steady stream, for a new station was then being built, and there was

"Here is where the 'portrait parle' ought to come in, if ever," commented Kennedy as he watched eagerly.

And yet neither man nor woman passed us who fitted the description. Train after train emptied its human

freight, yet the pale man with the concave nose and the peculiar ear, accompanied perhaps by a lady, did not

At last the incoming stream began to dwindle down. It was long past the time when the counterfeiters should

Kennedy shook his head. "No," he answered. "I have an idea that I was mistaken about the money being kept

at Riverwood. It would have been too risky. I thought it out on the way back this morning. They probably

kept it in a safe deposit vault here. I had figured that they would come down and get it and leave New York

after last night's events. We have failed they have got by us. Neither the 'portrait parle' nor the ordinary

photography nor any other system will suffice alone against the archcriminal back of this, I'm afraid.

Walter, I am sore and disgusted. What I should have done was to accept Burke's offer surround the house

with a posse if necessary, last night, and catch the counterfeiters by sheer force. I was too confident. I thought

I could do it with finesse, and I have failed. I'd give anything to know what safe deposit vault they kept the

I said nothing as we strolled away, leaving Burke's man still to watch, hoping against hope. Kennedy walked

disconsolately through the station, and I followed. In a secluded part of the waitingroom he sat down, his

face drawn up in a scowl such as I had never seen. Plainly he was disgusted with himself with only himself.

This was no bungling of Burke or any one else. Again the counterfeiters had escaped from the hand of the

As he moved his fingers restlessly in the pockets of his coat, he absently pulled out the little pieces of sponge

"I know what they were for," he said, diving back into his pocket for the other things and bringing out the

sharp little knives in their case. I said nothing, for Kennedy was in a deep study. At last he put the things back

into his pocket. As he did so his hand encountered something which he drew forth with a puzzled air. It was

"Now, what do you suppose that was for?" he asked, half to himself. "I had forgotten that. What was the use

"I don't know," I replied, rather testily. "If you would tell me what the other things were for I might enlighten

"By George, Walter, what a chump I am!" cried Kennedy, leaping to his feet, all energy again. "Why did I

forget that lump of paraffin? Why, of course I think I can guess what they have been doing of course.

Why, man alive, he walked right past us, and we never knew it. Boy, boy," he shouted to a newsboy who

Eagerly he almost tore a paper open and scanned the sporting pages. "Racing at Lexington begins

tomorrow," he read. "Yes, I'll bet that's it. We don't have to know the safe deposit vault, after all. It would

As we hurried over to the information booth, I gasped, in a whirl: "Now, look here, Kennedy, what's all this

lightning calculation? What possible connection is there between a lump of paraffin and one of the few places

"None," he replied, not stopping an instant. "None. The paraffin suggested to me the possible way in which

our man managed to elude us under our very eyes. That set my mind at work again. Like a flash it occurred to

me: Where would they be most likely to go next to work off some of the bills? The banks are on, the

jewelleryhouses are on, the gamblingjoints are on. Why, to the racetracks, of course. That's it.

Counterfeiters all use the bookmakers, only since racing has been killed in New York they have had to resort

to other means here. If New York has suddenly become too hot, what more natural than to leave it? Here, let

me see there's a train that gets there early tomorrow, the best train, too. Say, is No. 144 made up yet?" he

Kennedy thanked the man, turned abruptly, and started for the still closed gate at Track 8.

"Beg pardon why, hulloa it's Burke," he exclaimed as we ran plump into a man staring vacantly about.

It was not the gentleman farmer of the night before, nor yet the supposed college graduate. This man was a

Western rancher; his broadbrimmed hat, long moustache, frock coat, and flowing tie proclaimed it. Yet

there was something indefinably familiar about him, too. It was Burke in another disguise.

"Pretty good work, Kennedy," nodded Burke, shifting his tobacco from one side of his jaws to the other.

"Now, tell me how your man escaped you this morning, when you can recognise me instantly in this rig."

"You haven't altered your features," explained Kennedy simply. "Our palefaced, snubnosed,

peculiareared friend has. What do you think of the possibility of his going to the Lexington track, now that

Burke looked at Kennedy rather sharply. "Say, do you add telepathy to your other accomplishments?

"No," laughed Craig, "but I'm glad to see that two of us working independently have arrived at the same

The gate was just opened, and the crowd filed through. No one who seemed to satisfy either Burke or

Kennedy appeared. The train announcer made his last call. Just then a taxicab pulled up at the streetend of

the platform, not far from Track 8. A man jumped out and assisted a heavily veiled lady, paid the driver,

We waited expectantly. As he turned I saw a darkskinned, hooknosed man, and I exclaimed disgustedly to

Burke: "Well, if they are going to Lexington they can't make this train. Those are the last people who have a

Kennedy, however, continued to regard the couple steadily. The man saw that he was being watched and

faced us defiantly, "Such impertinence!" Then to his wife, "Come, my dear, we'll just make it."

"I'm afraid I'll have to trouble you to show us what's in that grip," said Kennedy, calmly laying his hand on

"Well, now, did you ever hear of such blasted impudence? Get out of my way, sir, this instant, or I'll have

"Come, come, Kennedy," interrupted Burke. "Surely you are getting in wrong here. This can't be the man."

Craig shook his head decidedly. "You can make the arrest or not, Burke, as you choose. If not, I am through.

Reluctantly Burke yielded. The man protested; the woman cried; a crowd collected.

The traingate shut with a bang. As it did so the man's demeanour changed instantly. " There," he shouted

angrily, "'you have made us miss our train. I'll have you in jail for this. Come on now to the nearest

magistrate's court. I'll have my rights as an American citizen. You have carried your little joke too far. Knight

is my name John Knight, of Omaha, porkpacker. Come on now. I'll see that somebody suffers for this if I

Burke was now apparently alarmed more at the possibility of the humorous publicity that would follow

such a mistake by the secret service than at anything else. However, Kennedy did not weaken, and on general

"Now," said the man surlily while he placed "Mrs. Knight" in as easy a chair as he could find in the judge's

chambers, "what is the occasion of all this row? Tell the judge what a bad man from Bloody Gulch I am."

O'Connor had arrived, having broken all speed laws and perhaps some records on the way up from

headquarters. Kennedy laid the Scotland Yard fingerprints on the table. Beside them he placed those taken

"Here," he began, "we have the fingerprints of a man who was one of the most noted counterfeiters in Great

Britain. Beside them are those of a man who succeeded in passing counterfeits of several kinds recently in

New York. Some weeks later this third set of prints was taken from a man who was believed to be the same

The magistrate was examining the three sets of prints. As he came to the third, he raised his head as if about

"One moment, sir. You were about to say that fingerprints never change, never show such variations as

these. That is true. There are fingerprints of people taken fifty years ago that are exactly the same as their

fingerprints of today. They don't change they are permanent. The fingerprints of mummies can be

deciphered even after thousands of years. But," he added slowly, "you can change fingers."

The idea was so startling that I could scarcely realise what he meant at first. I had read of the wonderful work

of the surgeons of the Rockefeller Institute in transplanting tissues and even whole organs, in grafting skin

and in keeping muscles artificially alive for days under proper conditions. Could it be that a man had

deliberately amputated his fingers and grafted on new ones? Was the stake sufficient for such a game? Surely

there must be some scars left after such grafting. I picked up the various sets of prints. It was true that the

"Though there is no natural changeability of fingerprints," pursued Kennedy, "such changes can be induced,

as Dr. Paul Prager of Vienna has shown, by acids and other reagents, by grafting and by injuries. Now, is

there any method by which lost fingertips can be restored? I know of one case where the end of a finger was

taken off and only onesixteenth inch of the nail was left. The doctor incised the edges of the granulating

surface and then led the granulations on by what is known in the medical profession as the 'sponge graft.' He

"The sponge graft consists in using portions of a fine Turkish surgical sponge, such I have here. I found these

pieces in a desk at Riverwood. The patient is anaesthetised. An incision is made from side to side in the

stump of the finger and flaps of skin are sliced off and turned up for the new end of the finger to develop in

a sort of shell of living skin. Inside this, the sponge is placed, not a large piece, but a very thin piece sliced off

and cut to the shape of the fingerstump. It is perfectly sterilised in water and washed in green soap after all

the stony particles are removed by hydrochloric acid. Then the finger is bound up and kept moist with normal

"The result is that the end of the finger, instead of healing over, grows into the fine meshes of the pieces of

sponge, by capillary attraction. Of course even this would heal in a few days, but the doctor does not let it

heal. In three days he pulls the sponge off gently. The end of the finger has grown up just a fraction of an

inch. Then a new thin layer of sponge is added. Day after day this process is repeated, each time the finger

growing a little more. A new nail develops if any of the matrix is left, and I suppose a clever surgeon by

grafting up pieces of epidermis could produce on such a stump very passable fingerprints."

No one of us said anything, but Kennedy seemed to realise the thought in our minds and proceeded to

"It is known as the 'education sponge method,' and was first described by Dr. D. J. Hamilton, of Edinburgh, in

1881. It has frequently been used in America since then. The sponge really acts in a mechanical manner to

support the new fingertissue that is developed. The meshes are filled in by growing tissue, and as it grows

the tissue absorbs part of the sponge, which is itself an animal tissue and acts like catgut. Part of it is also

thrown off. In fact, the sponge imitates what happens naturally in the porous network of a regular bloodclot.

It educates the tissue to grow, stimulates it new bloodvessels and nerves as well as flesh.

"In another case I know of, almost the whole of the first joint of a finger was crushed off, and the doctor was

asked to amputate the stump of bone that protruded. Instead, he decided to educate the tissue to grow out to

cover it and appear like a normal finger. In these cases the doctors succeeded admirably in giving the patients

entire new fingertips, without scars, and, except for the initial injury and operation, with comparatively little

"That is what happened, gentlemen," concluded Kennedy. "That is why Mr. Forbes, alias Williams, made a

trip to Philadelphia to be treatedfor crushed fingertips, not for the kick of an automobile engine. He may

have paid the doctors in counterfeits. In reality this man was playing a game in which there was indeed a

heavy stake at issue. He was a counterfeiter sought by two governments with the net closing about him. What

are the tips of a few fingers compared with life, liberty, wealth, and a beautiful woman? The first two sets of

prints are different from the third because they are made by different fingertipson the same man. The very

core of the prints was changed. But the fingerprint system is vindicated by the very ingenuity of the man

"Very interesting to one who is interested," remarked the stranger, "but what has that to do with detaining

"Just this," replied Craig. "If you will kindly oblige us by laying your fingers on this inkingpad and then

Knight demurred, and his wife grew hysterical at the idea, but there was nothing to do but comply. Kennedy

glanced at the fourth set of prints, then at the third set taken a week ago, and smiled. No one said a word.

"I don't suppose Scotland Yard has neglected to furnish you with photographs and a description of this

Burke reluctantly pulled out a Bertillon card from his pocket and laid it on the table. It bore the front face and

The man picked it up as if indeed it was a curious thing. His coolness nearly convinced me. Surely he should

have hesitated in actually demanding this last piece of evidence. I had heard, however, that the Bertillon

system of measurements often depended on the personal equation of the measurer as well as on the measured.

I looked over Kennedy's shoulder at the card on the table. There was the concave nose of the "portrait parle" "

of Forbes, as it had first been described to us. Without looking further I involuntarily glanced at the man,

although I had no need to do so. I knew that his nose was the exact opposite of that of Forbes.

"Ingenious at argument as you are, he remarked quietly, "you will hardly deny that Knight, of Omaha, is the

exact opposite of Forbes, of London. My nose is almost Jewish my complexion is dark as an Arab's. Still, I

suppose I am the sallow, snubnosed Forbes described here, inasmuch as I have stolen Forbes's fingers and

"The colour of the face is easily altered," said Kennedy. "A little picric acid will do that. The ingenious rogue

Sarcey in Paris eluded the police very successfully until Dr. Charcot exposed him and showed how he

changed the arch of his eyebrows and the wrinkles of his face. Much is possible today that would make

A sharp feminine voice interrupted. It was the woman, who had kept silent up to this time. "But I have read in

one of the papers this morning that a Mr. Williams was found dead in an automobile accident up the Hudson

All eyes were now fixed on Kennedy. "That body," he answered quickly, "was a body purchased by you at a

medical school, brought in your car to Riverwood, dressed in Williams's clothes with a watch that would

show he was Forbes, placed on the track in front of the auto, while you two watched the Buffalo express run

it down, and screamed. It was a clever scheme that you concocted, but these facts do not agree."

He laid the measurements of the corpse obtained by Burke and those from the London police card side by

"Your honour, I appeal to your sense of justice," cried our prisoner impatiently. "Hasn't this farce been

allowed to go far enough? Is there any reason why this fake detective should make fools out of us all and

keep my wife longer in this court? I'm not disposed to let the matter drop. I wish to enter a charge against him

of false arrest and malicious prosecution. I shall turn the whole thing over to my attorney this afternoon. The

The man had by this time raised himself to a high pitch of apparently righteous wrath. He advanced

menacingly toward Kennedy, who stood with his shoulders thrown back, and his hands deep in his pockets,

"As for you, Mr. Detective," added the man, "for eleven cents I'd lick you to within an inch of your life.

'Portrait parle,' indeed! It's a fine scientific system that has to deny its own main principles in order to

Harriet Wollstone threw her arms about him, but he broke away. His fist shot out straight. Kennedy was too

quick for him, however. I had seen Craig do it dozens of times with the best boxers in the "gym." He simply

jerked his head to one side, and the blow passed just a fraction of an inch from his jaw, but passed it as

The man lost his balance, and as he fell forward and caught himself, Kennedy calmly and deliberately

It was an intensely serious instant, yet I actually laughed. The man's nose was quite out of joint, even from

such a slight blow. It was twisted over on his face in the most ludicrous position imaginable.

"The next time you try that, Forbes," remarked Kennedy, as he pulled the piece of paraffin from his pocket

and laid it on the table with the other exhibits, "don't forget that a concave nose built out to hooknose

convexity by injections of paraffin, such as the beautydoctors everywhere advertise, is a poor thing for a

Both Burke and O'Connor had seized Forbes, but Kennedy had turned his attention to the larger of Forbes's

grips, which the Wollstone woman vociferously claimed as her own. Quickly he wrenched it open.

As he turned it up on the table my eyes fairly bulged at the sight. Forbes' suitcase might have been that of a

travelling salesman for the Kimberley, the Klondike, and the Bureau of Engraving, all in one. Craig dumped

the wealth out on the table stacks of genuine bills, gold coins of two realms, diamonds, pearls, everything

portable and tangible all heaped up and topped off with piles of counterfeits awaiting the magic touch of this

"Forbes, you have failed in your getaway," said Craig triumphantly. "Gentlemen, you have here a master

counterfeiter, surely a master counterfeiter of features and fingers as well as of currency."

"Interesting story, this fight between the FiveBorough and the InterRiver Transit," I remarked to Kennedy

"Then that will interest you, also," said he, throwing a letter down on my desk. He had just come in and was

The letterhead bore the name of the FiveBorough Company. It was from Jack Orton, one of our intimates at

college, who was in charge of the construction of a new tunnel under the river. It was brief, as Jack's letters

always were. "I have a case here at the tunnel that I am sure will appeal to you, my own case, too," it read.

"You can go as far as you like with it, but get to the bottom of the thing, no matter whom it hits. There is

some deviltry afoot, and apparently no one is safe. Don't say a word to anybody about it, but drop over to see

As we sped across the city in a taxicab, Craig remarked: "I wonder what is the trouble? Did you see in the

society news this morning the announcement of Jack's engagement to Vivian Taylor, the daughter of the

I had seen it, but could not connect it with the trouble, whatever it was, at the tunnel, though I did try to

We pulled up at the construction works, and a strapping Irishman met us. "Is this Professor Kennedy?" he

"I'm afraid, sir, it will be a long time before Mr. Orton is in his office again, sir. The doctor have just took

him out of the medical lock, an' he said if you was to come before they took him to the 'orspital I was to bring

"Good heavens, man, what has happened?" exclaimed Kennedy. "Take us up to him quick."

Without waiting to answer, the Irishman led the way up and across a rough board platform until at last we

came to what looked like a huge steel cylinder, lying horizontally, in which was a floor with a cot and some

strange paraphernalia. On the cot lay Jack Orton, drawn and contorted, so changed that even his own mother

would scarcely have recognised him. A doctor was bending over him, massaging the joints of his legs and his

"Thank you, Doctor, I feel a little better," he groaned. "No, I don't want to go back into the lock again, not

"Yes, Craig," he murmured with difficulty, "this is Jack Orton. What do you think of me? I'm a pretty sight.

How are you? And how are you, Walter? Not too vigorous with the handshakes, fellows. Sorry you couldn't

Orton forced a half smile. "Just a touch of the 'bends' from working in compressed air," he explained.

We looked at him, but could say nothing. I, at least, was thinking of his engagement.

"Yes," he added bitterly, "I know what you are thinking about, fellows. Look at me! Do you think such a

wreck as I am now has any right to be engaged to the dearest girl in the world?"

"Mr. Orton," interposed the doctor, "I think you'll feel better if you'll keep quiet. You can see your friends in

the hospital tonight, but for a few hours I think you had better rest. Gentlemen, if you will be so good as to

"Then I'll see you tonight," said Orton to us feebly. Turning to a tall, spare, wiry chap, of just the build for

tunnel work, where fat is fatal, he added: "This is Mr. Capps, my first assistant. He will show you the way

"Confound it!" exclaimed Craig, after we had left Capps. "What do you think of this? Even before we can get

to him something has happened. The plot thickens before we are well into it. I think I'll not take a cab, or a

I could see that Craig was very much affected by the sudden accident that had happened to our friend, so I

fell into his mood, and we walked block after block scarcely exchanging a word. His only remark, I recall,

was, "Walter, I can't think it was an accident, coming so close after that letter." As for me, I scarcely knew

At last our walk brought us around to the private hospital where Orton was. As we were about to enter, a very

handsome girl was leaving. Evidently she had been visiting some one of whom she thought a great deal. Her

long fur coat was flying carelessly, unfastened in the cold night air; her features were pale, and her eyes had

"It's terrible, Miss Taylor," I heard the man with her say soothingly, "and you must know that I sympathise

Looking up quickly, I caught sight of Capps and bowed. He returned our bows and handed her gently into an

"He might at least have introduced us," muttered Kennedy, as we went on into the hospital.

Orton was lying in bed, white and worn, propped up by pillows which the nurse kept arranging and

rearranging to ease his pain. The Irishman whom we had seen at the tunnel was standing deferentially near

"Quite a number of visitors, nurse, for a new patient," said Orton, as he welcomed us. "First Capps and Paddy

from the tunnel, then Vivian" he was fingering some beautiful roses in a vase on a table near him "and

now, you fellows. I sent her home with Capps. She oughtn't to be out alone at this hour, and Capps is a good

fellow. She's known him a long time. No, Paddy, put down your hat. I want you to stay. Paddy, by the way,

fellows, is my righthand man in managing the 'sandhogs' as we call the tunnelworkers. He has been a

sandhog on every tunnel job about the city since the first successful tunnel was completed. His real name is

Paddy nodded. "If I ever get over this and back to the tunnel," Orton went on, "Paddy will stick to me, and we

will show Taylor, my prospective fatherinlaw and the president of the railroad company from which I took

this contract, that I am not to blame for all the troubles we are having on the tunnel. Heaven knows that "

"Oh, Mr. Orton, you ain't so bad," put in Paddy without the faintest touch of undue familiarity. "Look what I

"You old rascal," returned Orton, brightening up. "Craig, do you know how I found him? Crawling over the

"Think I'd take that medicine," explained Paddy, hastily. "Not much. Don't I know that the only cure for the

bends is bein' put back in the 'air' in the medical lock, same as they did with you, and bein' brought out

slowly? That's the cure, that, an' grit, an' patience, an' time. Mark me wurds, gintlemen, he'll finish that tunnel

an' beggin' yer pardon, Mr. Orton, marry that gurl, too. Didn't I see her with tears in her eyes right in this

room when he wasn't lookin', and a smile when he was? Sure, ye'll be all right," continued Paddy, slapping

his side and thigh. "We all get the bends more or less all us sandhogs. I was that doubled up meself that I

felt like a big jackknife. Had it in the arm, the side, and the leg all at once, that time he was just speakin' of.

He'll be all right in a couple more weeks, sure, an' down in the air again, too, with the rest of his men. It's

"Then the case has nothing to do with your trouble, nothing to do with the bends?" asked Kennedy, keenly

"Well, it may and it may not," replied Orton thoughtfully. "I begin to think it has. We have had a great many

cases of the bends among the men, and lots of the poor fellows have died, too. You know, of course, how the

newspapers are roasting us. We are being called inhuman; they are going to investigate us; perhaps indict me.

Oh, it's an awful mess; and now some one is trying to make Taylor believe it is my fault.

"Of course," he continued, "we are working under a high airpressure just now, some days as high as forty

pounds. You see, we have struck the very worst part of the job, a stretch of quicksand in the riverbed, and if

we can get through this we'll strike pebbles and rock pretty soon, and then we'll be all right again."

He paused. Paddy quietly put in: "Beggin' yer pardon again, Mr. Orton, but we had entirely too many cases of

the bends even when we were wurkin' at low pressure, in the rock, before we sthruck this sand. There's

somethin' wrong, sir, or ye wouldn't be here yerself like this. The bends don't sthrike the ingineers, them as

"It's this way, Craig," resumed Orton. "When I took this contract for the FiveBorough Transit Company,

they agreed to pay me liberally for it, with a big bonus if I finished ahead of time, and a big penalty if I

exceeded the time. You may or may not know it, but there is some doubt about the validity of their franchise

after a certain date, provided the tunnel is not ready for operation. Well, to make a long story short, you know

there are rival companies that would like to see the work fail and the franchise revert to the city, or at least get

tied up in the courts. I took it with the understanding that it was every man for himself and the devil take the

"Have you yourself seen any evidences of rival influences hindering the work?" asked Kennedy.

Orton carefully weighed his reply. "To begin with," he answered at length, "while I was pushing the

construction end, the FiveBorough was working with the state legislature to get a bill extending the

timelimit of the franchise another year. Of course, if it had gone through it would have been fine for us. But

some unseen influence blocked the company at every turn. It was subtle; it never came into the open. They

played on public opinion as only demagogues of high finance can, very plausibly of course, but from the

I nodded. I knew all about that part of it, for it was in the article which I had been writing for the Star.

"But I had not counted on the extra year, anyhow," continued Orton, "so I wasn't disappointed. My plans

were laid for the shorter time from the start. I built an island in the river so that we could work from each

shore to it, as well as from the island to each shore, really from four points at once. And then, when

everything was going ahead fine, and we were actually doubling the speed in this way, these confounded

accidents" he was leaning excitedly forward " and lawsuits and delays and deaths began to happen."

Orton sank back as a paroxysm of the bends seized him, following his excitement.

"No sooner said than done," replied Orton, almost cheerfully, at seeing Kennedy so interested. "We can

arrange that easily. Paddy will be glad to do the honours of the place in my absence."

"Indade I will do that same, sor," responded the faithful Paddy, "an' it's a shmall return for all ye've done for

"Very well, then," agreed Kennedy. "Tomorrow morning we shall be on hand. Jack, depend on us. We will

"I knew you would, Craig," he replied. "I've read of some of your and Walter's exploits. You're a pair of

bricks, you are. Goodbye, fellows," and his hands mechanically sought the vase of flowers which reminded

At home we sat for a long time in silence. "By George, Craig," I exclaimed at length, my mind reverting

through the whirl of events to the glimpse of pain I had caught on the delicate face of the girl having the

"And Capps thinks so, too," he returned, sinking again into his shell of silence. Then he suddenly rose and put

on his hat and coat. I could see the old restless fever for work which came into his eyes whenever he had a

case which interested him more than usual. I knew there would be no rest for Kennedy until he had finished

it. Moreover, I knew it was useless for me to remonstrate with him, so I kept silent.

Don't wait up for me," he said. "I don't know when I'll be back. I'm going to the laboratory and the university

library. Be ready early in the morning to help me delve into this tunnel mystery."

I awoke to find Kennedy dozing in a chair, partly dressed, but just as fresh as I was after my sleep. I think he

had been dreaming out his course of action. At any rate, breakfast was a mere incident in his scheme, and we

Kennedy carried with him a moderatesized box of the contents of which he seemed very careful. Paddy was

waiting for us, and after a hasty whispered conversation, Craig stowed the box away behind the switchboard

of the telephone central, after attaching it to the various wires. Paddy stood guard while this was going on so

that no one would know about it, not even the telephone girl, whom he sent off on an errand.

Our first inspection was of that part of the works which was above ground. Paddy, who conducted us,

introduced us first to the engineer in charge of this part of the work, a man named Shelton, who had knocked

about the world a great deal, but had acquired a taciturnity that was Sphinxlike. If it had not been for Paddy, I

fear we should have seen very little, for Shelton was not only secretive, but his explanations were such that

even the editor of a technical journal would have had to blue pencil them considerably. However, we gained a

pretty good idea of the tunnel works above ground at least Kennedy did. He seemed very much interested

in how the air was conveyed below ground, the tank for storing compressed air for emergencies, and other

features. It quite won Paddy, although Shelton seemed to resent his interest even more than he despised my

Next Paddy conducted us to the dressingrooms. There we put on old clothes and oilskins, and the tunnel

doctor examined us and extracted a written statement that we went down at our own risk and released the

"We're ready now, Mr. Capps," called Paddy, opening an office door on the way out.

"Very well, Flanagan," answered Capps, barely nodding to us. We heard him telephone some one, but could

not catch the message, and in a minute he joined us. By this time I had formed the opinion, which I have

It was a new kind of thrill to me to go under the "air," as the men called it. With an instinctive last look at the

skyline of New York and the waves playing in the glad sunlight, we entered a rude construction elevator and

dropped from the surface to the bottom of a deep shaft. It was like going down into a mine. There was the

airlock, studded with bolts, and looking just like a huge boiler, turned horizontally.

The heavy iron door swung shut with a bang as Paddy and Capps, followed by Kennedy and myself, crept

into the airlock. Paddy turned on a valve, and compressed air from the tunnel began to rush in with a hiss as

of escaping steam. Pound after pound to the square inch the pressure slowly rose until I felt sure the drums of

my ears would burst. Then the hissing noise began to dwindle down to a wheeze, and then it stopped all of a

sudden. That meant that the airpressure in the lock was the same as that in the tunnel. Paddy pushed open

Along the bottom of the completed tube we followed Paddy and Capps. On we trudged, fanned by the moist

breath of the tunnel. Every few feet an incandescent light gleamed in the misty darkness. After perhaps a

hundred paces we had to duck down under a semicircular partition covering the upper half of the tube.

"What is that?" I shouted at Paddy, the nasal ring of my own voice startling me.

Words were economised. Later, I learned that should the tunnel start to flood, the other half of the emergency

Men passed, pushing little cars full of "muck" or sand taken out from before the "shield" which is the head

by which this mechanical mole advances under the riverbed. These men and others who do the shovelling

Pipes laid along the side of the tunnel conducted compressed air and fresh water, while electric light and

telephone wires were strung all about. These and the tools and other things strewn along the tunnel obstructed

the narrow passage to such an extent that we had to be careful in picking our way.

At last we reached the shield, and on hands and knees we crawled out into one of its compartments. Here we

experienced for the first time the weird realisation that only the "air" stood between us and destruction from

the tons and tons of sand and water overhead. At some points in the sand we could feel the air escaping,

which appeared at the surface of the river overhead in bubbles, indicating to those passing in the river boats

just how far each tunnel heading below had proceeded. When the loss of air became too great, I learned,

scows would dump hundreds of tons of clay overhead to make an artificial river bed for the shield to stick its

nose safely through, for if the river bed became too thin overhead the "air" would blow a hole in it.

Capps, it seemed to me, was unusually anxious to have the visit over. At any rate, while Kennedy and Paddy

were still crawling about the shield, he stood aside, now and then giving the men an order and apparently

My own curiosity was quickly satisfied, and I sat down on a pile of the segments out of which the successive

rings of the tunnel were made. As I sat there waiting for Kennedy, I absently reached into my pocket and

pulled out a cigarette and lighted it. It burned amazingly fast, as if it were made of tinder, the reason being the

excess of oxygen in the compressed air. I was looking at it in astonishment, when suddenly I felt a blow on

"You chump!" he shouted as he ground the cigarette under his boot. "Don't you know it is dangerous to

"Why, no," I replied, smothering my anger at his manner. "No one said anything about it."

"And to whom may it be dangerous?" I heard a voice inquire over my shoulder. It was Kennedy. "To Mr.

"Well," answered Capps, "I supposed everybody knew it was reckless, and that he would hurt himself more

He turned on Kennedy sullenly, and started to walk back up the tunnel. But I could not help thinking that his

manner was anything but solicitude for my own health. I could just barely catch his words over the tunnel

telephone some feet away. I thought he said that everything was going along all right and that he was about to

start back again. Then he disappeared in the mist of the tube without even nodding a farewell.

Kennedy and I remained standing, not far from the outlet of the pipe by which the compressed air was being

supplied in the tunnel from the compressors above, in order to keep the pressure up to the constant level

necessary. I saw Kennedy give a hurried glance about, as if to note whether any one were looking at us. No

one was. With a quick motion he reached down. In his hand was a stout little glass flask with a tightfitting

metal top. For a second he held it near the outlet of the pipe; then he snapped the top shut and slipped it back

Slowly we commenced to retrace our steps to the airlock, our curiosity satisfied by this glimpse of one of

"Back there at the shield, I suppose," said I. "Let's whistle and attract his attention.

I pursed up my lips, but if I had been whistling for a million dollars I couldn't have done it.

Craig laughed. "Walter, you are indeed learning many strange things. You can't whistle in compressed air.

I was too chagrined to answer. First it was Capps; now it was my own friend Kennedy chaffing me for my

ignorance. I was glad to see Paddy's huge form looming in the semidarkness. He had seen that we were

"Won't ye stay down an' see some more, gintlemen?" he asked. "Or have ye had enough of the air? It seems

very smelly to me this mornin' I don't blame ye. I guess them as doesn't have to stay here is satisfied with a

"No, thanks, I guess we needn't stay down any longer," replied Craig. "I think I have seen all that is necessary

at least for the present. Capps has gone out ahead of us. I think you can take us out now, Paddy. I would

Coming out, I found, was really more dangerous than going in, for it is while coming out of the that men are

liable to get the bends. Roughly, half a minute should be consumed in coming out from each pound of

pressure, though for such high pressures as we had been under, considerably more time was required in order

Paddy let the air out of the lock by turning on a valve leading to the outside, normal atmosphere. Thus he let

the air out rapidly at first until we had got down to half the pressure of the tunnel. The second half he did

slowly, and it was indeed tedious, but it was safe. There was at=20first a hissing sound when he opened the

valve, and it grew colder in the lock, since air absorbs heat from surrounding objects when it expands. We

were glad to draw sweaters on over our heads. It also grew as misty as a London fog as the watervapour in

At last the hiss of escaping air ceased. The door to the modern dungeon of science grated open. We walked

out of the lock to the elevator shaft and were hoisted up to God's air again. We gazed out across the river with

its waves dancing in the sunlight. There, out in the middle, was a wreath of bubbles on the water. That

marked the end of the tunnel, over the shield. Down beneath those bubbles the sandhogs were rooting. But

what was the mystery that the tunnel held in its dark, dank bosom? Had Kennedy a clue?

"I think we had better wait around a bit," remarked Kennedy, as we sipped our hot coffee in the

dressingroom and warmed ourselves from the chill of coming out of the lock. "In case anything should

happen to us and we should get the bends this is the place for us, near the medical lock, as it is called that

big steel cylinder over there, where we found Orton. The best cure for the bends is to go back under the

airrecompression they call it. The renewed pressure causes the gas in the blood to contract again, and thus it

is eliminated sometimes. At any rate, it is the bestknown cure and considerably reduces the pain in the

worst cases. When you have a bad case like Orton's it means that the damage is done; the gas has ruptured

Nothing happened to us, however, and in a couple of hours we dropped in on Orton at the hospital where he

"Nothing as yet," replied Craig, "but I have set certain things in motion which will give us a pretty good line

Orton's face fell, but he said nothing. He bit his lip nervously and looked out of the sunparlour at the roofs

"What has happened since last night to increase your anxiety, Jack?" asked Craig sympathetically. Orton

wheeled his chair about slowly, faced us, and drew a letter from his pocket. Laying it flat on the table he

"Dear Jack," it began. I saw at once that it was from Miss Taylor. "Just a line," she wrote, "to let you know

that I am thinking about you always and hoping that you are better than when I saw you this evening. Papa

had the chairman of the board of directors of the FiveBorough here late tonight, and they were in the

library for over an hour. For your sake, Jack, I played the eavesdropper, but they talked so low that I could

hear nothing, though I know they were talking about you and the tunnel. When they came out, I had no time

to escape, so I slipped behind a portiere. I heard father say: 'Yes, I guess you are right, Morris. The thing has

gone on long enough. If there is one more big accident we shall have to compromise with the InterRiver and

carry on the work jointly. We have given Orton his chance, and if they demand that this other fellow shall be

put in, I suppose we shall have to concede it.' Mr. Morris seemed pleased that father agreed with him and said

so. Oh, Jack, can't you do something to show them they are wrong, and do it quickly? I never miss an

opportunity of telling papa it is not your fault that all these delays take place."

The rest of the letter was covered by the envelope, and Orton would not have shown it for worlds.

"Orton," said Kennedy, after a few moments' reflection, "I will take a chance for your sake a long chance,

but I think a good one. If you can pull yourself together by this afternoon, be over at your office at four. Be

sure to have Shelton and Capps there, and you can tell Mr. Taylor that you have something very important to

set before him. Now, I must hurry if I am to fulfil my part of the contract. Goodbye, Jack. Keep a stiff upper

Outside, as he hurried uptown, Craig was silent, but I could see his features working nervously, and as we

parted he merely said: "Of course, you'll be there, Walter. I'll put the finishing touches on your story of high

Slowly enough the few hours passed before I found myself again in Orton's office. He was there already,

despite the orders of his physician, who was disgusted at this excursion from the hospital. Kennedy was there,

too, grim and silent. We sat watching the two indicators beside Orton's desk, which showed the air pressure

in the two tubes. The needles were vibrating ever so little and tracing a redink line on the ruled paper that

unwound from the drum. From the moment the tunnels were started, here was preserved a faithful record of

"Telephone down into the tube and have Capps come up," said Craig at length, glancing at Orton's desk

clock. "Taylor will be here pretty soon, and I want Capps to be out of the tunnel by the time he comes. Then

In response to Orton's summons Capps and Shelton came into the office, just as a large town car pulled up

outside the tunnel works. A tall, distinguishedlooking man stepped out and turned again toward the door of

"There's Taylor," I remarked, for I had seen him often at investigations before the Public Service

"And Vivian, too," exclaimed Orton excitedly. "Say, fellows, clear off these desks. Quick, before she gets up

here. In the closet with these blueprints, Walter. There, that's a little better. If I had known she was coming I

would at least have had the place swept out. Puff! look at the dust on this desk of mine. Well, there's no help

"Jack!" she exclaimed, almost ignoring the rest of us and quickly crossing to his chair to lay a restraining

"Why didn't you tell me you were coming?" he asked eagerly. "I would have had the place fixed up a bit."

I prefer it this way," she said, looking curiously around at the samples of tunnel paraphernalia and the charts

"Yes, Orton," said President Taylor, "she would come dropped in at the office and when I tried to excuse

myself for a business appointment, demanded which way I was going. When I said I was coming here, she

Orton smiled. He knew that she had taken this simple and direct means of being there, but he said nothing,

An awkward silence followed. Orton cleared his throat. "I think you all know why we are here," he began.

"We have been and are having altogether too many accidents in the tunnel, too many cases of the bends, too

many deaths, too many delays to the work. Well er I er Mr. Kennedy has something to say about them,

No sound was heard save the vibration of the aircompressors and an occasional shout of a workman at the

"There is no need for me to say anything about caisson disease to you, gentlemen, or to you, Miss Taylor,"

began Kennedy. "I think you all know how it is caused and a good deal about it already. But, to be perfectly

clear, I will say that there are live things that must, above all others, be looked after in tunnel work: the air

pressure, the amount of carbon dioxide in the air, the length of the shifts which the men work, the state of

health of the men as near as physical examination can determine it, and the rapidity with which the men come

"I find," he continued, "that the air pressure is not too high for safety. Proper examinations for carbon dioxide

are made, and the amount in the air is not excessive. The shifts are not even as long as those prescribed by the

law. The medical inspection is quite adequate and as for the time taken in coming out through the locks the

A look of relief crossed the face of Orton at this commendation of his work, followed by a puzzled

expression that plainly indicated that he would like to know what was the matter, if all the crucial things were

"But," resumed Kennedy, "the bends are still hitting the men, and there is no telling when a fire or a

blowout may occur in any of the eight headings that are now being pushed under the river. Quite often the

work has been delayed and the tunnel partly or wholly flooded. Now, you know the theory of the bends. It is

that air mostly the nitrogen in the air is absorbed by the blood under the pressure. In coming out of the 'air'

if the nitrogen is not all eliminated, it stays in the blood and, as the pressure is reduced, it expands. It is just as

if you take a bottle of charged water and pull the cork suddenly. The gas rises in big bubbles. Cork it again

and the gas bubbles cease to rise and finally disappear. If you make a pinhole in the cork the gas will escape

slowly, without a bubble. You must decompress the human body slowly, by stages, to let the supersaturated

blood give up its nitrogen to the lungs, which can eliminate it. Otherwise these bubbles catch in the veins, and

the result is severe pains, paralysis, and even death. Gentlemen, I see that I am just wasting time telling you

Kennedy placed an empty corked flask on the table. The others regarded it curiously, but I recalled having

"In this bottle," explained Kennedy, "I collected some of the air from the tunnel when I was down there this

morning. I have since analysed it. The quantity of carbon dioxide is approximately what it should be not

high enough of itself to cause trouble. But," he spoke slowly to emphasise his words, " I found something

"I found in this air," replied Kennedy, "a very peculiar mixture an explosive mixture."

"Yes, Jack, the blowouts that you have had at the end of the tunnel were not blowouts at all, properly

"And, furthermore," added Kennedy, "I should, if I were you, call back all the men from the tunnel until the

Orton reached mechanically for the telephone to give the order, but Taylor laid his hand on his arm. "One

moment, Orton," he said. "Let's hear Professor Kennedy out. He may be mistaken, and there is no use

"Shelton," asked Kennedy, "what sort of flash oil is used to lubricate the machinery?"

"Yes, straight no joints, no pockets where oil, moisture, and gases can collect."

They were facing each other coldly, sizing each other up. Like a skilful lawyer, Kennedy dropped that point

"Capps," he demanded, turning suddenly, "why do you always call up on the telephone and let some one

"Walter," said Craig to me quietly, "go out in the outer office. Behind the telephone switchboard you will

find a small box which you saw me carry in there this morning and connect with the switchboard. Detach the

No one moved, as I placed the box on a draftingtable before them. Craig opened it. Inside he disclosed a

large disc of thin steel, like those used by some mechanical musicboxes, only without any perforations. He

connected the wires from the box to a sort of megaphone. Then he started the disc revolving.

Out of the little megaphone horn, sticking up like a miniature talkingmachine, came a voice: Number

please. Four four three o, Yorkville. Busy, I'll call you. Try them again, Central. Hello, hello, Central "

Kennedy stopped the machine. "It must be further along on the disc," he remarked. "This, by the way, is an

instrument known as the telegraphone, invented by a Dane named Poulsen. It records conversations over a

telephone on this plain metal disc by means of localised, minute electric charges."

Having adjusted the needle to another place on the disc he tried again. "We have here a record of the entire

day's conversations over the telephone, preserved on this disc. I could wipe out the whole thing by pulling a

This time it was Capps speaking. "Give me Mr. Shelton. Oh, Shelton, I'm going down in the south tube with

those men Orton has sent nosing around here. I'll let you know when I start up again. Meanwhile you know

"Now," continued Kennedy suavely, "what could happen? I'll answer my own question by telling what

actually did happen. Oil that was smoky at a lower point than its flash was being used in the machinery not

really threehundredandsixtydegree oil. The waterjacket had been tampered with, too. More than that,

there is a joint in the pipe leading down into the tunnel, where explosive gases can collect. It is a wellknown

fact in the use of compressed air that such a condition is the best possible way to secure an explosion.

"It would all seem so natural, even if discovered," explained Kennedy rapidly. "The smoking oil smoking

just as an automobile often does is passed into the compressedair pipe. Condensed oil, moisture, and gases

collect in the joint, and perhaps they line the whole distance of the pipe. A spark from the lowgrade oiland

they are ignited. What takes place is the same thing that occurs in the cylinder of an automobile where the air

is compressed with gasoline vapour. Only here we have compressed air charged with vapour of oil. The flame

proceeds down the pipe exploding through the pipe, if it happens to be not strong enough. This pipe,

however, is strong. Therefore, the flame in this case shoots out at the open end of the pipe, down near the

shield, and if the air in the tunnel happens also to be surcharged with oilvapour, an explosion takes place in

"That's how your accidents took place, Orton," concluded Kennedy in triumph, "and that impure air not

impure from carbon dioxide, but from this oilvapour mixture increased the liability of the men for the

bends. Capps knew about it. He was careful while he was there to see that the air was made as pure as

possible under the circumstances. He was so careful that he wouldn't even let Mr. Jameson smoke in the

tunnel. But as soon as he went to the surface, the same deadly mixture was pumped down again I caught

"My God, Paddy's down there now," cried Orton, suddenly seizing his telephone. "Operator, give me the

Out in the river above the end of the heading, where a short time before there had been only a few bubbles on

the surface of the water, I could see what looked like a huge geyser of water spouting up. I pulled Craig over

A blowout," cried Kennedy, as he rushed to the door, only to be met by a group of blanchedfaced workers

Craig acted quickly. "Hold these men," he ordered, pointing to Capps and Shelton, "until we come back.

Orton, while we are gone, go over the entire day's record on the telegraphone. I suspect you and Miss Taylor

He sprang down the ladder to the tunnel airlock, not waiting for the elevator. In front of the closed door of

the lock, an excited group of men was gathered. One of them was peering through the dim, thick, glass

"There he is, standin' by the door with a club, an' the men's crowdin' so fast that they're all wedged so's none

can get in at all. He's beatin' 'em back with the stick. Now, he's got the door clear and has dragged one poor

fellow in. It's Jimmy Rourke, him with the eight childer. Now he's dragged in a Polack. Now he's fightin'

"It's Paddy," cried Craig. "If he can bring them all out safely without the loss of a life he'll save the day yet

Instantly I reconstructed in my mind the scene in the tunnel the explosion of the oilvapour, the mad race

up the tube, perhaps the failure of the emergency curtain to work, the frantic efforts of the men, in panic, all

to crowd through the narrow little door at once; the rapidly rising water and above all the heroic Paddy,

cool to the last, standing at the door and singlehanded beating the men back with a club, so that they could

Only when the water had reached the level of the door of the lock, did Paddy bang it shut as he dragged the

last man in. Then followed an interminable wait for the air in the lock to be exhausted. When, at last, the door

at our end of the lock swung open, the men with a cheer seized Paddy and, in spite of his struggles, hoisted

him on to their shoulders, and carried him off, still struggling, in triumph up the construction elevator to the

The scene in Orton's office was dramatic as the men entered with Paddy. Vivian Taylor was standing

defiantly, with burning eyes, facing Capps, who stared sullenly at the floor before him. Shelton was plainly

"Kennedy," cried Orton, vainly trying to rise, "listen. Have you still that place on the telegraphone record,

Miss Taylor started the telegraphone, while we all crowded around leaning forward eagerly.

"Hello. InterRiver? Is this the president's office? Oh, hello. This is Capps talking. How are you? Oh, you've

heard about Orton, have you? Not so bad, eh? Well, I'm arranging with my man Shelton here for the final act

this afternoon. After that you can compromise with the FiveBorough on your own terms. I think I have

argued Taylor and Morris into the right frame of mind for it, if we have one more big accident. What's that?

How is my love affair? Well, Orton's in the way yet, but you know why I went into this deal. When you put

me into his place after the compromise, I think I will pull strong with her. Saw her last night. She feels pretty

bad about Orton, but she'll get over it. Besides, the pater will never let her marry a man who's down and out.

By the way, you've got to do something handsome for Shelton. All right. I'll see you tonight and tell you

An angry growl rose from one or two of the more quickwitted men. Kennedy reached over and pulled me

"Hurry, Walter," he whispered hoarsely, "hustle Shelton and Capps out quick before the rest of the men wake

As we shoved and pushed them out, I saw the rough and grimy sandhogs in the rear move quickly aside, and

off came their muddy, frayed hats. A dainty figure flitted among them toward Orton. It was Vivian Taylor.

"Papa," she cried, grasping Jack by both hands and turning to Taylor, who followed her closely, "Papa, I told

Kennedy and I had just tossed a coin to decide whether it should be a comic opera or a good walk in the

mellow spring night air and the opera had won, but we had scarcely begun to argue the vital point as to where

to go, when the door buzzer sounded a sure sign that some boxoffice had lost four dollars.

It was a much agitated middleaged couple who entered as Craig threw open the door. Of our two visitors,

the woman attracted my attention first, for on her pale face the lines of sorrow were almost visibly deepening.

Her nervous manner interested me greatly, though I took pains to conceal the fact that I noticed it. It was

quickly accounted for, however, by the card which the man presented, bearing the name "Mr. George

Mr. and Mrs. Gilbert desire to consult you with regard to the mysterious disappearance of their daughter,

Georgette. I am sure I need say nothing further to interest you than that the M.P. Squad is completely baffled.

"Hm," remarked Kennedy; "not strange for the Missing Persons Squad to be baffled at least, at this case."

"Then you know of our daughter's strange er departure?" asked Mr. Gilbert, eagerly scanning Kennedy's

face and using a euphemism that would fall less harshly on his wife's ears than the truth.

"Indeed, yes," nodded Craig with marked sympathy: "that is, I have read most of what the papers have said.

Let me introduce my friend, Mr. Jameson. You recall we were discussing the Georgette Gilbert case this

I did, and perhaps before I proceed further with the story I should quote at least the important parts of the

article in the morning Star which had occasioned the discussion. The article had been headed, "When

Personalities Are Lost," and with the Gilbert case as a text many instances had been cited which had later

been solved by the return of the memory of the sufferer. In part the article had said:

Mysterious disappearances, such as that of Georgette Gilbert, have alarmed the public and baffled the police

before this, disappearances that in their suddenness, apparent lack of purpose, and inexplicability, have had

Leaving out of account the class of disappearances such as embezzlers, blackmailers, and other criminals,

there is still a large number of recorded cases where the subjects have dropped out of sight without apparent

cause or reason and have left behind them untarnished reputations. Of these a small percentage are found to

have met with violence; others have been victims of a suicidal mania ; and sooner or later a clue has come to

light, for the dead are often easier to find than the living, Of the remaining small proportion there are on

record a number of carefully authenticated cases where the subjects have been the victims of a sudden and

This dislocation of memory is a variety of aphasia known as amnesia, and when the memory is recurrently

lost and restored it is an "alternating personality." The psychical researchers and psychologists have reported

many cases of alternating personality. Studious efforts are being made to understand and to explain the

strange type of mental phenomena exhibited in these cases, but no one has as yet given a final, clear, and

comprehensive explanation of them. Such cases are by no means always connected with disappearances, but

the variety known as the ambulatory type, where the patient suddenly loses all knowledge of his own identity

and of his past and takes himself off, leaving no trace or clue, is the variety which the present case calls to

Then followed a list of a dozen or so interesting cases of persons who had vanished completely and had,

some several days and some even years later, suddenly "awakened" to their first personality, returned, and

To Kennedy's inquiry I was about to reply that I recalled the conversation distinctly, when Mr. Gilbert shot an

inquiring glance from beneath his bushy eyebrows, quickly shifting from my face to Kennedy's, and asked,

"And what was your conclusion what do you think of the case? Is it aphasia or amnesia, or whatever the

doctors call it, and do you think she is wandering about somewhere unable to recover her real personality?"

"I should like to have all the facts at first hand before venturing an opinion," Craig replied with precisely that

shade of hesitancy that might reassure the anxious father and mother, without raising a false hope.

Mr. and Mrs. Gilbert exchanged glances, the purport of which was that she desired him to tell the story.

"It was day before yesterday," began Mr. Gilbert, gently touching his wife's trembling hand that sought his

arm as he began rehearsing the tragedy that had cast its shadow across their lives, "Thursday, that Georgette

er since we have heard of Georgette." His voice faltered a bit, but he proceeded: "As you know, she was

last seen walking on Fifth Avenue. The police have traced her since she left home that morning. It is known

that she went first to the public library, then that she stopped at a department store on the avenue, where she

made a small purchase which she had charged to our family account, and finally that she went to a large

Mrs. Gilbert sighed, and buried her face in a lace handkerchief as her shoulders shook convulsively.

"Yes, I have read that," repeated Kennedy gently, though with manifest eagerness to get down to facts that

might prove more illuminating. "I think I need hardly impress upon you the advantage of complete frankness,

the fact that anything you may tell me is of a much more confidential nature than if it were told to the police.

Err, had Miss Gilbert any love affair, any trouble of such a nature that it might have preyed on her mind?"

Kennedy's tactful manner seemed to reassure both the father and the mother, who exchanged another glance.

"Although we have said no to the reporters," Mrs. Gilbert replied bravely in answer to the nod of approval

from her husband, and much as if she herself were making a confession for them both, "I fear that Georgette

had had a love affair. No doubt you have heard hints of Dudley Lawton's name in connection with the case? I

can't imagine how they could have leaked out, for I should have said that that old affair had long since been

forgotten even by the society gossips. The fact is that shortly after Georgette 'came out,' Dudley Lawton, who

is quite on the road to becoming one of the rather notorious members of the younger set, began to pay her

marked attentions. He is a fascinating, romantic sort of fellow, one that, I imagine, possesses much attraction

for a girl who has been brought up as simply as Georgette was, and who has absorbed a surreptitious diet of

modern literature such as we now know Georgette did. I suppose you have seen portraits of Georgette in the

Kennedy nodded. It is, of course, one of the cardinal tenets of journalism that all women are beautiful, but

even the coarse screen of the ordinary newspaper halftone had not been able to conceal the rather

exceptional beauty of Miss Georgette Gilbert. If it had, all the shortcomings of the newspaper photographic

art would have been quickly glossed over by the almost ardent descriptions by those ladies of the press who

come along about the second day after an event of this kind with signed articles analysing the character and

"Naturally both my husband and myself opposed his attentions from the first. It was a hard struggle, for

Georgette, of course, assumed the muchinjured air of some of the heroines of her favourite novels. But I, at

least, believed that we had won and that Georgette finally was brought to respect and, I hoped, understand our

wishes in the matter. I believe so yet. Mr. Gilbert in a roundabout way came to an understanding with old Mr.

Dudley Lawton, who possesses a great influence over his son, and well, Dudley Lawton seemed to have

passed out of Georgette's life. I believed so then, at least, and I see no reason for not believing so yet. I feel

that you ought to know this, but really I don't think it is right to say that Georgette had a love affair. I should

rather say that she had had a love affair, but that it had been forgotten, perhaps a year ago."

Mrs. Gilbert paused again, and it was evident that though she was concealing nothing she was measuring her

"What does Dudley Lawton say about the newspapers bringing his name into the case?" asked Kennedy,

"Nothing," replied he. "He denies that he has even spoken to her for nearly a year. Apparently he has no

interest in the case. And yet I cannot quite believe that Lawton is as uninterested as he seems. I know that he

has often spoken about her to members of the Cosmos Club where he lives, and that he reads practically

"But you have no reason to think that there has ever been any secret communication between them? Miss

Georgette left no letters or anything that would indicate that her former infatuation survived?"

"None whatever," repeated Mr. Gilbert emphatically. "We have gone over her personal effects very carefully,

and I can't say they furnish a clue. In fact, there were very few letters. She rarely kept a letter. Whether it was

"Besides her liking for Dudley Lawton and her rather romantic nature, there are no other things in her life that

would cause a desire for freedom?" asked Kennedy, much as a doctor might test the nerves of a patient. "She

"Beyond the reading of some books which her mother and I did not altogether approve of, I should say no

"So far, I suppose, it is true that neither you nor the police have received even a hint as to where she went

"Mrs. Gilbert," said Kennedy, as our visitors rose to go, "you may rest assured that if it is humanly possible to

find your daughter I shall leave no stone unturned until I have probed to the bottom of this mystery. I have

seldom had a case that hung on more slender threads, yet if I can weave other threads to support it I feel that

we shall soon find that the mystery is not so baffling as the Missing Persons Squad has found it so far."

Scarcely had the Gilberts left when Kennedy put on his hat, remarking: "We'll at least get our walk, if not the

Luckily we chanced to find him there in the readingroom. Lawton was, as Mrs. Gilbert had said, a type that

is common enough in New York and is very fascinating to many girls. In fact, he was one of those fellows

whose sins are readily forgiven because they are always interesting. Not a few men secretly admire though

I say we chanced to find him in. That was about all we found. Our interview was most unsatisfactory. For my

part, I could not determine whether he was merely anxious to avoid any notoriety in connection with the case

"Really, gentlemen," he drawled, puffing languidly on a cigarette and turning slowly toward the window to

watch the passing throng under the lights of the avenue, "really I don't see how I can be of any assistance.

You see, except for a mere passing acquaintance Miss Gilbert and I had drifted entirely apart entirely apart

"I thought perhaps you might have heard from her or about her, through some mutual friend," remarked

Kennedy, carefully concealing under his nonchalance what I knew was working in his mind a belief that,

"No, not a breath, either before this sad occurrence or, of course, after. Believe me, if I could add one fact

that would simplify the search for Georgette ah, Miss Gilbert ah I would do so in a moment," replied

Lawton quickly, as if desirous of getting rid of us as soon as possible. Then perhaps as if regretting the

brusqueness with which he had tried to end the interview, he added, "Don't misunderstand me. The moment

you have discovered anything that points to her whereabouts, let me know immediately. You can count on me

provided you don't get me into the papers. Goodnight, gentlemen. I wish you the best of success."

"Do you think he could have kept up the acquaintance secretly?" I asked Craig as we walked up the avenue

after this baffling interview. "Could he have cast her off when he found that in spite of her parents' protests

"It's impossible to say what a man of Dudley Lawton's type could do," mused Kennedy, "for the simple

reason that he himself doesn't know until he has to do it. Until we have more facts, anything is both possible

There was nothing more that could be done that night, though after our walk we sat up for an hour or two

discussing probabilities. It did not take me long to reach the end of my imagination and give up the case, but

Kennedy continued to revolve the matter in his mind, looking at it from every angle and calling upon all the

vast store of information that he had treasured up in that marvellous brain of his, ready to be called on almost

Murders, suicides, robberies, and burglaries are, after all, pretty easily explained," he remarked, after a long

period of silence on my part, "but the sudden disappearance of people out of the crowded city into nowhere is

something that is much harder to explain. And it isn't so difficult to disappear as some people imagine, either.

You remember the case of the celebrated Arctic explorer whose picture had been published scores of times in

every illustrated paper. He had no trouble in disappearing and then reappearing later, when he got ready.

"Yet experience has taught me that there is always a reason for disappearances. It is our next duty to discover

that reason. Still, it won't do to say that disappearances are not mysterious. Disappearances except for money

troubles are all mysterious. The first thing in such a case is to discover whether the person has any hobbies or

habits or fads. That is what I tried to find out from the Gilberts. I can't tell yet whether I succeeded."

Kennedy took a pencil and hastily jotted down something on a piece of paper which he tossed over to me. It

"Those are the reasons why people disappear, eliminating criminals and those who have financial difficulties.

Dream on that and see if you can work out the answer in your subliminal consciousness. Goodnight."

Needless to say, I was no further advanced in the morning than at midnight, but Kennedy seemed to have

evolved at least a tentative programme. It started with a visit to the public library, where he carefully went

over the ground already gone over by the police. Finding nothing, he concluded that Miss Gilbert had not

found what she wanted at the library and had continued the quest, even as he was continuing the quest of

His next step was to visit the departmentstore. The purchase had been an inconsequential affair of half a

dozen handkerchiefs, to be sent home. This certainly did not look like a premeditated disappearance; but

Craig was proceeding on the assumption that this purchase indicated nothing except that there had been a sale

of handkerchiefs which had caught her eye. Having stopped at the library first and a bookshop afterward, he

assumed that she had also visited the bookdepartment of the store. But here again nobody seemed to recall

Our last hope was the bookshop. We paused for a moment to look at the display in the window, but only for

a moment, for Craig quickly pulled me along inside. In the window was a display of books bearing the sign:

Instead of attempting to go over the ground already traversed by the police, who had interrogated the

numerous clerks without discovering which one, if any, had waited on Miss Gilbert, Kennedy asked at once

to see the record of sales of the morning on which she had disappeared. Running his eye quickly down the

record, he picked out a work on clairvoyance and asked to see the young woman who had made the sale. The

clerk was, however, unable to recall to whom she had sold the book, though she finally admitted that she

thought it might have been a young woman who had some difficulty in making up her mind just which one of

the numerous volumes she wanted. She could not say whether the picture Kennedy showed her of Miss

Gilbert was that of her customer, nor was she sure that the customer was not escorted by some one.

"Still," remarked Kennedy cheerfully, "it may furnish a clue, after all. The clerk at least was not positive that

it was not Miss Gilbert to whom she sold the book. Since we are down in this neighbourhood, let us drop in

and see Mr. Gilbert again. Perhaps something may have happened since last night."

Mr. Gilbert was in the drygoods business in a loft building in the new drygoods section on Fourth Avenue.

One could almost feel that a tragedy had invaded even his place of business. As we entered, we could see

groups of clerks, evidently discussing the case. It was no wonder, I felt, for the head of the firm was almost

frantic, and beside the loss of his only daughter the loss of his business would count as nothing, at least until

"Mr. Gilbert is out," replied his secretary, in answer to our inquiry. "Haven't you heard? They have just

discovered the body of his daughter in a lonely spot in the Croton Aqueduct. The report came in from the

police just a few minutes ago. It is thought that she was murdered in the city and carried there in an

The news came with a stinging shock. I felt that, after all, we were too late. In another hour the extras would

be out, and the news would be spread broadcast. The affair would be in the hands of the amateur detectives,

"Dead!" exclaimed Kennedy, as he jammed his hat on his head and bolted for the door. "Hurry, Walter. We

I don't know how we managed to do it, but by dint of subway, elevated, and taxicab we arrived on the scene

of the tragedy not very long after the coroner. Mr. Gilbert was there, silent, and looking as if he had aged

many years since the night before; his hand shook and he could merely nod recognition to us.

Already the body had been carried to a rough shanty in the neighbourhood, and the coroner was questioning

those who had made the discovery, a party of Italian labourers on the water improvement near by. They were

a vicious looking crew, but they could tell nothing beyond the fact that one of them had discovered the body

in a thicket where it could not possibly have lain longer than overnight. There was no reason, as yet, to

suspect any of them, and indeed, as a much travelled automobile road ran within a few feet of the thicket,

there was every reason to believe that the murder, if murder it was, had been committed elsewhere and that

Drawn and contorted were the features of the poor girl, as if she had died in great physical agony or after a

terrific struggle. Indeed, marks of violence on her delicate throat and neck showed only too plainly that she

As Kennedy bent over the form of the once lovely Georgette, he noted the clenched hands. Then he looked at

them more closely. I was standing a little behind him, for though Craig and I had been through many thrilling

adventures, the death of a human being, especially of a girl like Miss Gilbert, filled me with horror and

revulsion. I could see, however, that he had noted something unusual. He pulled out a little pocket

magnifying glass and made an even more minute examination of the hands. At last he rose and faced us,

almost as if in triumph. I could not see what he had discovered at least it did not seem to be anything

Quickly he opened the pocketbook which she had carried. It seemed to be empty, and he was about to shut it

when something white, sticking in one corner, caught his eye. Craig pulled out a clipping from a newspaper,

and we crowded about him to look at it. It was a large clipping from the section of one of the metropolitan

journals which carries a host of such advertisements as "spirit medium," "psychic palmist," "yogi mediator,"

"magnetic influences," "crystal gazer," "astrologer," "trance medium," and the like. At once I thought of the

sallow, somewhat mystic countenance of Dudley, and the idea flashed, halfformed, in my mind that

somehow this clue, together with the purchase of the book on clairvoyance, might prove the final link

But the first problem in Kennedy's mind was to keep in touch with what the authorities were doing. That kept

us busy for several hours, during which Craig was in close consultation with the coroner's physician. The

physician was of the opinion that Miss Gilbert had been drugged as well as strangled, and for many hours,

down in his laboratory, his chemists were engaged in trying to discover from tests of her blood whether the

theory was true. One after another the ordinary poisons were eliminated, until it began to look hopeless.

So far Kennedy had been only an interested spectator, but as the different tests failed, he had become more

"Might I try one or two reactions with that sample?" he asked of the physician who handed him the test tube

For a moment or two Craig thoughtfully regarded it, while with one hand he fingered the bottles of ether,

alcohol, distilled water, and the many reagents standing before him. He picked up one and poured a little

liquid into the test tube. Then, removing the precipitate that was formed, he tried to dissolve it in water. Not

"I can't be sure yet," he answered slowly. "I thought at first that it was some alkaloid. I'll have to make further

tests before I can be positive just what it is. If I may retain this sample I think that with other clues that I have

The coroner's physician willingly assented, and Craig quickly dispatched the tube, carefully sealed, to his

"That part of our investigation will keep," he remarked as we left the coroner's office. "Tonight I think we

had better resume the search which was so unexpectedly interrupted this morning. I suppose you have

concluded, Walter, that we can be reasonably sure that the trail leads back through the fortunetellers and

soothsayers of New York, which one, it would be difficult to say. The obvious thing, therefore, is to consult

them all. I think you will enjoy that part of it, with your newspaperman's liking for the bizarre."

The fact was that it did appeal to me, though at the moment I was endeavouring to formulate a theory in

It was early in the evening as we started out on our tour of the clairvoyants of New York. The first whom

Kennedy selected from the advertisements in the clipping described himself as "Hata, the Veiled Prophet,

born with a double veil, educated in occult mysteries and Hindu philosophy in Egypt and India." Like all of

The great questions of life are quickly solved, failure turned to success, sorrow to joy, the separated are

brought together, foes made friends. Truths are laid bare to his mysterious mind. He gives you power to

attract and control those whom you may desire, tells you of living or dead, your secret troubles, the cause and

remedy. Advice on all affairs of life, love, courtship, marriage, business, speculations, investments.

Overcomes rivals, enemies, and all evil influences. Will tell you how to attract, control, and change the

Hata was a modest adept who professed to be able to explain the whole ten stages of Yoga. He had

established himself on a street near Times Square, just off Broadway, and there we found several automobiles

and taxicabs standing at the curb, a mute testimony to the wealth of at least some of his clientele.

A solemnfaced coloured man ushered us into a front parlour and asked if we had come to see the professor.

"Will you please write your names and addresses on the outside sheet of this pad, then tear it off and keep it?"

asked the attendant. "We ask all visitors to do that simply as a guarantee of good faith. Then if you will write

under it what you wish to find out from the professor I think it will help you concentrate. But don't write

"A pretty cheap trick," exclaimed Craig when the attendant had gone. "That's how he tells the gullible their

names before they tell him. I've a good notion to tear off two sheets. The second is chemically prepared, with

paraffin, I think. By dusting it over with powdered charcoal you can bring out what was written on the first

sheet over it. Oh, well, let's let him get something across, anyway. Here goes, our names and addresses, and

Perhaps five minutes later the negro took the pad, the top sheet having been torn off and placed in Kennedy's

pocket. He also took a small fee of two dollars. A few minutes later we were ushered into the awful presence

of the "Veiled Prophet," a tall, ferreteyed man in a robe that looked suspiciously like a brocaded

Sure enough, he addressed us solemnly by name and proceeded directly to tell us why we had come.

"Let us look into the crystal of the past, present, and future and read what it has to reveal," he added

solemnly, darkening the room, which was already only dimly lighted. Then Hata, the crystalgazer, solemnly

seated himself in a chair. Before him, in his hands, reposing on a bag of satin, lay a huge oval piece of glass.

He threw forward his head and riveted his eyes on the milky depths of the crystal. In a moment he began to

"I see a man, a dark man," he began. "He is talking earnestly to a young girl. She is trying to avoid him. Ah

he seizes her by both arms. They struggle. He has his hand at her throat. He is choking her."

I was thinking of the newspaper descriptions of Lawton, which the fakir had undoubtedly read, but Kennedy

was leaning forward over the crystalgazer, not watching the crystal at all, nor with his eyes on the

Kennedy laid his hand ever so lightly on the arm of the clairvoyant, then quickly withdrew it.

"I cannot see where he goes. It is dark, dark. You will have to come back tomorrow when the vision is

The thing stung me by its crudity. Kennedy, however, seemed elated by our experience as we gained the

"Craig," I remonstrated, "you don't mean to say you attach any importance to vapourings like that? Why,

there wasn't a thing the fellow couldn't have imagined from the newspapers, even the clumsy description of

"We'll see," he replied cheerfully, as we stopped under a light to read the address of the next seer, who

It proved to be the psychic palmist who called himself "the Pandit." He also was "born with a strange and

remarkable power not meant to gratify the idle curious, but to direct, advise, and help men and women" at

the usual low fee. He said in print that he gave instant relief to those who had trouble in love, and also

Love, courtship, marriage. What is more beautiful than the true unblemished love of one person for another?

What is sweeter, better, or more to be desired than perfect harmony and happiness? If you want to win the

esteem, love, and everlasting affection of another, see the Pandit, the greatest living master of the occult

Inasmuch as this seer fell into a passion at the other incompetent soothsayers in the next column (and almost

next door) it seemed as if we must surely get something for our money from the Pandit.

Like Hata, the Pandit lived in a large brownstone house. The man who admitted us led us into a parlour

where several people were seated about as if waiting for some one. The pad and writing process was repeated

with little variation. Since we were the latest comers we had to wait some time before we were ushered into

The room was large and had very small windows of stained glass. At one end of the room was an altar on

which burned several candles which gave out an incense. The atmosphere of the room was heavy with a

The Pandit waved a wand, muttering strange sounds as he did so, for in addition to his palmistry, which he

seemed not disposed to exhibit that night, he dealt in mysteries beyond human ken. A voice, quite evidently

from a phonograph buried in the depths of the altar, answered in an unknown language which sounded much

like "Alya waaa haalya waaha." Across the dim room flashed a pale blue light with a crackling noise,

the visible rays from a Crookes tube, I verily believe. The Pandit, however, said it was the soul of a saint

passing through. Then he produced two silken robes, one red, which he placed on Kennedy's shoulders, and

>From the air proceeded strange sounds of weird music and words. The Pandit seemed to fall asleep,

muttering. Apparently, however, Kennedy and I were bad subjects, for after some minutes of this he gave it

up, saying that the spirits had no revelation to make tonight in the matter in which we had called. Inasmuch

as we had not written on the pad just what that matter was, I was not surprised. Nor was I surprised when the

Pandit laid off his robe and said unctuously, "But if you will call tomorrow and concentrate, I am sure that I

Kennedy promised to call, but still he lingered. The Pandit, anxious to get rid of us, moved toward the door.

"Might I have some of your writings to look over in the meantime?" asked Craig as if to gain time.

"Yes, but they will cost you three dollars a copy the price I charge all my students," answered the Pandit

with just a trace of a gleam of satisfaction at having at last made an impression.

He turned and entered a cabinet to secure the mystic literature. The moment he had disappeared Kennedy

seized the opportunity he had been waiting for. He picked up the green robe and examined the collar and

neck very carefully under the least dim of the lights in the room. He seemed to find what he wished, yet he

continued to examine the robe until the sound of returning footsteps warned him to lay it down again. He had

not been quite quick enough. The Pandit eyed us suspiciously, then he rang a bell. The attendant appeared

"Show these men into the library," he commanded with just the faintest shade of trepidation. "My servant will

It seemed that we had suddenly been looked upon with disfavour, and I half suspected he thought we were

spies of the police, who had recently received numerous complaints of the financial activities of the fortune

tellers, who worked in close harmony with certain bucketshop operators in fleecing the credulous of their

money by inspired investment advice. At any rate, the attendant quickly opened a door into the darkness.

Treading cautiously I followed Craig. The door closed behind us. I clenched my fists, not knowing what to

"The deuce!" exclaimed Kennedy. "He passed us out into an alley. There is the street not twenty feet away.

It was now too late to see any of the other clairvoyants on our list, so that with this unceremonious dismissal

The next morning we wended our way up into the Bronx, where one of the mystics had ensconced himself

rather out of the beaten track of police protection, or persecution, one could not say which. I was wondering

what sort of vagary would come next. It proved to be "Swami, the greatest clairvoyant, psychic palmist, and

Names friends, enemies, rivals, tells whom and when you will marry, advises you upon love, courtship,

marriage, business, speculation, transactions of every nature. If you are worried, perplexed, or in trouble

come to this wonderful man. He reads your life like an open book; he overcomes evil influences, reunites the

separated, causes speedy and happy marriage with the one of your choice, tells how to influence any one you

desire, tells whether wife or sweetheart is true or false. Love, friendship, and influence of others obtained and

a greater share of happiness in life secured. The key to success is that marvellous, subtle, unseen power that

opens to your vision the greatest secrets of life. It gives you power which enables you to control the minds of

The Swami engaged to explain the "wonderful Karmic law," and by his method one could develop a

wonderful magnetic personality by which he could win anything the human heart desired. It was therefore

with great anticipation that we sought out the wonderful Swami and, falling into the spirit of his

advertisement, posed as "comeons" and pleaded to obtain this wonderful magnetism and a knowledge of the

Karmic law at a ridiculously low figure, considering its inestimable advantages to one engaged in the

pursuit of criminal science. Naturally the Swami was pleased at two such early callers, and his narrow,

halfbald head, long slim nose, sharp grey eyes, and sallow, unwholesome complexion showed his pleasure

Rubbing his hands together as he motioned us into the next room, the Swami seated us on a circular divan

with piles of cushions upon it. There were clusters of flowers in vases about the room, which gave it the

A lackey entered with a silver tray of cups of coffee and a silver jar in the centre. Talking slowly and

earnestly about the "great Karmic law," the Swami bade us drink the coffee, which was of a vile, muddy,

Turkish variety. Then from the jar he took a box of rock crystal containing a sort of greenish compound

which he kneaded into a little gum gum tragacanth, I afterward learned, and bade us taste. It was not at all

unpleasant to the taste, and as nothing happened, except the suave droning of the mystic before us, we ate

I am at a loss to describe adequately just the sensations that I soon experienced. It was as if puffs of hot and

cold air were alternately blown on my spine, and I felt a twitching of my neck, legs, and arms. Then came a

subtle warmth. The whole thing seemed droll; the noise of the Swami's voice was most harmonious. His and

Kennedy's faces seemed transformed. They were human faces, but each had a sort of animal likeness back of

it, as Lavater has said. The Swami seemed to me to be the fox, Kennedy the owl. I looked in the glass, and I

It was sensuous in the extreme. The beautiful paintings on the walls at once became clothed in flesh and

blood. A picture of a lady hanging near me caught my eye. The countenance really smiled and laughed and

varied from moment to moment. Her figure became rounded and living and seemed to stir in the frame. The

face was beautiful but ghastly. I seemed to be borne along on a sea of pleasure by currents of voluptuous

The Swami was affected by a profound politeness. As he rose and walked about the room, still talking, he

salaamed and bowed. When=20 I spoke it sounded like a gun, with an echo long afterward rumbling in my

brain. Thoughts came to me like fury, bewildering, sometimes as points of light in the most exquisite

fireworks. Objects were clothed in most fantastic garbs. I looked at my two animal companions. I seemed to

read their thoughts. I felt strange affinities with them, even with the Swami. Yet it was all by the

psychological law of the association of ideas, though I was no longer master but the servant of those ideas.

As for Kennedy, the stuff seemed to affect him much differently than it did myself. Indeed, it seemed to rouse

in him something vicious. The more I smiled and the more the Swami salaamed, the more violent I could see

Craig getting, whereas I was lost in a maze of dreams that I would not have stopped if I could. Seconds

seemed to be years; minutes ages. Things at only a short distance looked much as they do when looked at

through the inverted end of a telescope. Yet it all carried with it an agreeable exhilaration which I can only

At last the continued plying of the drug seemed to be too much for Kennedy. The Swami had made a

profound salaam. In an instant Kennedy had seized with both hands the long flowing hair at the back of the

Swami's bald forehead, and he tugged until the mystic yelled with pain and the tears stood in his eyes.

With a leap I roused myself from the train of dreams and flung myself between them. At the sound of my

voice and the pressure of my grasp, Craig sullenly and slowly relaxed his grip. A vacant look seemed to steal

into his face, and seizing his hat, which lay on a nearby stool, he stalked out in silence, and I followed.

Neither of us spoke for a moment after we had reached the street, but out of the corner of my eye I could see

"Do you feel better in the air?" I asked anxiously, yet somewhat vexed and feeling a sort of lassitude and half

It seemed as if he could restrain himself no longer. He burst out into a hearty laugh. "I was just watching the

look of disgust on your face," he said as he opened his hand and showed me three or four of the gum lozenges

that he had palmed instead of swallowing. "Ha, ha! I wonder what the Swami thinks of his earnest effort to

It was beyond me. With the Swami's concoction still shooting thoughts like sky rockets through my brain I

One more seer remained to be visited. This one professed to "hold your life mirror" and by his "magnetic

monochrome," whatever that might be, he would "impart to you an attractive personality, mastery of being,

He described himself as the "Guru," and, among other things, he professed to be a sunworshipper. At any

rate, the room into which we were admitted was decorated with the fourspoked wheel, or wheel and cross,

the winged circle, and the winged orb. The Guru himself was a swarthy individual with a purple turban

wound around his head. In his inner room were many statuettes, photographs of other Gurus of the faith, and

on each of the four walls were mysterious symbols in plaster representing a snake curved in a circle,

swallowing his tail, a fivepointed star, and in the centre another winged sphere.

Craig asked the Guru to explain the symbols, to which he replied with a smile: "The snake represents eternity,

the star involution and evolution of the soul, while the winged sphere eh, well, that represents something

At this gentle hint Craig replied that he did, and the utmost amicability was restored by the purchase of the

Green Book of the Guru, which seemed to deal with everything under the sun, and particularly the revival of

ancient Asiatic fireworship with many forms and ceremonies, together with posturing and breathing that

rivalled the "turkey trot," the "bunny hug," and the "grizzly bear." The book, as we turned, over its pages,

gave directions for preparing everything from food to lovephiltres and the elixir of life. One very interesting

chapter was devoted to " electric marriage," which seemed to come to those only who, after searching

patiently, at last found perfect mates. Another of the Guru's tenets seemed to be purification by eliminating

all false modesty, bathing in the sun, and while bathing engaging in any occupation which kept the mind

agreeably occupied. On the first page was the satisfying legend, "There is nothing in the world that a disciple

As we talked, it seemed quite possible to me that the Guru might exert a very powerful hypnotic influence

over his disciples or those who came to seek his advice. Besides this indefinable hypnotic influence, I also

"Yes," the Guru was saying to Kennedy, "I can secure you one of the lovepills from India, but it will cost

you er ten dollars." I think he hesitated, to see how much the traffic would bear, from one to one hundred,

and compromised with only one zero after the unit. Kennedy appeared satisfied, and the Guru departed with

In a corner was a sort of dressingtable on which lay a comb and brush. Kennedy seemed much interested in

the table and was examining it when the Guru returned. Just as the door opened he managed to slip the brush

into his pocket and appear interested in the mystic symbols on the wall opposite.

"If that doesn't work," remarked the Guru in remarkably good English, "let me know, and you must try one of

Outside Craig looked at me quizzically "You wouldn't believe it, Walter, would you?" he said. "Here in this

twentieth century in New York, and in fact in every large city of the world lovephiltres, lovepills, and all

the rest of it. And it is not among the ignorant that these things are found, either. You remember we saw

"I suspect that all who visit the fakirs are not so gullible, after all," I replied sententiously.

"Perhaps not. I think I shall have something interesting to say tonight as a result of our visits, at least."

During the remainder of the day Kennedy was closely confined in his laboratory with his microscopes, slides,

chemicals, testtubes, and other apparatus. As for myself, I put in the time speculating which of the fakirs

had been in some mysterious way connected with the case and in what manner. Many were the theories

which I had formed and the situations I conjured up, and in nearly all I had one central figure, the young man

That night Kennedy, with the assistance of First Deputy O'Connor, who was not averse to taking any action

within the law toward the soothsayers, assembled a curiously cosmopolitan crowd in his laboratory. Besides

the Gilberts were Dudley Lawton and his father, Hata, the Pandit, the Swami, and the Guru the latter four

persons in high dudgeon at being deprived of the lucrative profits of a Sunday night.

Kennedy began slowly) leading gradually up to his point: "A new means of bringing criminals to justice has

been lately studied by one of the greatest scientific detectives of crime in the world, the man to whom we are

indebted for our most complete systems of identification and apprehension." Craig paused and fingered the

microscope before him thoughtfully. "Human hair," he resumed, "has recently been the study of that untiring

criminal scientist, M. Bertillon. He has drawn up a full, classified, and graduated table of all the known

colours of the human hair, a complete palette, so to speak, of samples gathered in every quarter of the globe.

Henceforth burglars, who already wear gloves or paint their fingers with a rubber composition for fear of

leaving fingerprints, will have to wear closefitting caps or keep their heads shaved. Thus he has hit upon a

new method of identification of those sought by the police. For instance, from time to time the question arises

whether hair is human or animal. In such cases the microscope tells the answer truthfully.

"For a long time I have been studying hair, taking advantage of those excellent researches by M. Bertillon.

Human hair is fairly uniform, tapering gradually. Under the microscope it is practically always possible to

distinguish human hair from animal. I shall not go into the distinctions, but I may add that it is also possible

to determine very quickly the difference between all hair, human or animal, and cotton with its

corkscrewlike twists, linen with its jointed structure, and silk, which is long, smooth, and cylindrical."

Again Kennedy paused as if to emphasise this preface. "I have here," he continued, "a sample of hair." He

had picked up a microscope slide that was lying on the table. It certainly did not look very thrilling a mere

piece of glass, that was all. But on the glass was what appeared to be merely a faint line. "This slide," he said,

holding it up, "has what must prove an unescapable clue to the identity of the man responsible for the

disappearance of Miss Gilbert. I shall not tell you yet who he is, for the simple reason that, though I could

make a shrewd guess, I do not yet know what the verdict of science is, and in science we do not guess where

"You will undoubtedly remember that when Miss Gilbert's body was discovered, it bore no evidence of

suicide, but on the contrary the marks of violence. Her fists were clenched, as if she had struggled with all her

power against a force that had been too much for her. I examined her hands, expecting to find some evidence

of a weapon she had used to defend herself. Instead, I found what was more valuable. Here on this slide are

I could not help recalling Kennedy's remark earlier in the case that it hung on slender threads. Yet how strong

"There was also in her pocketbook a newspaper clipping bearing the advertisements of several clairvoyants,"

he went on. "Mr. Jameson and myself had already discovered what the police had failed to find, that on the

morning of the day on which she disappeared Miss Gilbert had made three distinct efforts, probably, to secure

books on clairvoyance. Accordingly, Mr. Jameson and myself have visited several of the fortunetellers and

practitioners of the occult sciences in which we had reason to believe Miss Gilbert was interested. They all,

by the way, make a specialty of giving advice in money matters and solving the problems of lovers. I suspect

that at times Mr. Jameson has thought that I was demented, but I had to resort to many and various expedients

to collect the specimens of hair which I wanted. From the police, who used Mr. Lawton's valet, I received

some hair from his head. Here is another specimen from each of the advertisers, Hata, the Swami, the Pandit,

and the Guru. There is just one of these specimens which corresponds in every particular of colour, thickness,

As Craig said this I could feel a sort of gasp of astonishment from our little audience. Still he was not quite

"Lest I should be prejudiced," he pursued evenly, "by my own rather strong convictions, and in order that I

might examine the samples without fear or favour, I had one of my students at the laboratory take the marked

hairs, mount them, number them, and put in numbered envelopes the names of the persons who furnished

them. But before I open the envelope numbered the same as the slide which contains the hair which

corresponds precisely with that hair found in Miss Gilbert's hand and it is slide No. 2 " said Kennedy,

picking out the slide with his finger and moving it on the table with as much coolness as if he were moving a

chessman on a board instead of playing in the terrible game of human life, "before I read the name I have still

Craig now had us on edge with excitement, a situation which I sometimes thought he enjoyed more keenly

"What was it that caused Miss Gilbert's death?" asked Kennedy. "The coroner's physician did not seem to be

thoroughly satisfied with the theory of physical violence alone. Nor did I. Some one, I believe, exerted a

peculiar force in order to get her into his power. What was that force? At first I thought it might have been the

hackneyed knockout drops, but tests by the coroner's physician eliminated that. Then I thought it might be

one of the alkaloids, such as morphine, cocaine, and others. But it was not any of the usual things that was

used to entice her away from her family and friends. >From tests that I have, made I have discovered the one

fact necessary to complete my case, the drug used to lure her and against which she fought in deadly

He placed a test tube in a rack before us. "This tube," he continued, "contains one of the most singular and,

among us, least known of the five common narcotics of the world tobacco, opium, coca, betel nut, and

hemp. It can be smoked, chewed, used as a drink, or taken as a confection. In the form of a powder it is used

by the narghile smoker. As a liquid it can be taken as an oily fluid or in alcohol. Taken in any of these forms,

it literally makes the nerves walk, dance, and run. It heightens the feelings and sensibilities to distraction,

producing what is really hysteria. If the weather is clear, this drug will make life gorgeous; if it rains, tragic.

Slight vexation becomes deadly revenge; courage becomes rashness; fear, abject terror; and gentle affection

or even a passing liking is transformed into passionate love. It is the drug derived from the Indian hemp,

scientifically named Cannabis Indica, better known as hashish, or bhang, or a dozen other names in the East.

Its chief characteristic is that it has a profound effect on the passions. Thus, under its influence, natives of the

East become greatly exhilarated, then debased, and finally violent, rushing forth on the streets with the cry,

'Amok, amok,' ' Kill, kill ' as we say, 'running amuck.' An overdose of this drug often causes insanity,

while in small quantities our doctors use it as a medicine. Any one who has read the brilliant Theophile

Gautier's 'Club des Hachichens' or Bayard Taylor's experience at Damascus knows something of the effect of

"In reconstructing the story of Georgette Gilbert, as best I can, I believe that she was lured to the den of one

of the numerous cults practised in New York, lured by advertisements offering advice in hidden love affairs.

Led on by her love for a man whom she could not and would not put out of her life, and by her affection for

her parents, she was frantic. This place offered hope, and to it she went in all innocence, not knowing that it

was only the open door to a life such as the most lurid disorderly resorts of the metropolis could scarcely

match. There her credulity was preyed upon, and she was tricked into taking this drug, which itself has such

marked and perverting effect. But, though she must have been given a great deal of the drug, she did not

yield, as many of the sophisticated do. She struggled frantically, futilely. Will and reason were not conquered,

though they sat unsteadily on their thrones. The wisp of hair so tightly clasped in her dead hand shows that

Kennedy was leaning forward earnestly, glaring at each of us in turn. Lawton was twisting uneasily in his

chair, and I could see that his fists were doubled up and that he was holding himself in leash as if waiting for

something, eyeing us all keenly. The Swami was seized with a violent fit of trembling, and the other fakirs

Quickly I stepped between Dudley Lawton and Kennedy, but as I did so, he leaped behind me, and before I

"It's all right, Walter," cried Kennedy, tearing open the envelope on the table. "Lawton has guessed right. The

hair was the Swami's. Georgette Gilbert was one victim who fought and rescued herself from a slavery worse

than death. And there is one mystic who could not foresee arrest and the death house at Sing Sing in his

We were lunching with Stevenson Williams, a friend of Kennedy's, at the Insurance Club, one of the many

new downtown luncheon clubs, where the noon hour is so conveniently combined with business.

"There isn't much that you can't insure against nowadays," remarked Williams when the luncheon had

progressed far enough to warrant a tentative reference to the obvious fact that he had had a purpose in

inviting us to the club. "Take my own company, for example, the Continental Surety. We have lately

"Forgery insurance?" repeated Kennedy. "Well, I should think you'd be doing a ripping business putting up

the premium rate about every day in this epidemic of forgery that seems to be sweeping over the country."

Williams, who was one of the officers of the company, smiled somewhat wearily, I thought. "We are," he

"Well er both, perhaps. I needn't say much about the epidemic, as you call it. To you I can admit it; to the

newspapers, never. Still, I suppose you know that it is variously estimated that the forgers of the country are

getting away with from ten to fifteen million dollars a year. It is just one case that I was thinking about one

on which the regular detective agencies we employ seem to have failed utterly so far. It involves pretty nearly

"What? One case? A million dollars?" gasped Kennedy, gazing fixedly at Williams as if he found it difficult

"Exactly," replied Williams imperturbably, "though it was not done all at one fell swoop, of course, but

gradually, covering a period of some months. You have doubtless heard of the ByProducts Company of

"Well, it is their case," pursued Williams, losing his quiet manner and now hurrying ahead almost

breathlessly. "You know they own a bank out there also, called the ByProducts Bank. That's how we come

to figure in the case, by having insured their bank against forgery. Of course our liability runs up only to

$50,000. But the loss to the company as well as to its bank through this affair will reach the figure I have

named. They will have to stand the balance beyond our liability and, well, fifty thousand is not a small sum

"Of course not. But you must have some suspicions, some clues. You must have taken some action in tracing

"Surely. For instance, only the other day we had the cashier of the bank, Bolton Brown, arrested, though he is

out on bail now. We haven't anything directly against him, but he is suspected of complicity on the inside,

and I may say that the thing is so gigantic that there must have been some one on the inside concerned with it.

Among other things we have found that Bolton Brown has been leading a rather fast life, quite unknown to

his fellowofficials. We know that he has been speculating secretly in the wheat corner that went to pieces,

but the most significant thing is that he has been altogether too intimate with an adventuress, Adele DeMott,

who has had some success as a woman of high finance in various cities here and in Europe and even in South

America. It looks bad for him from the commonsense standpoint, though of course I'm not competent to

speak of the legal side of the matter. But, at any rate, we know that the insider must have been some one

"They seem to have been of two kinds. As far as we are concerned it is the check forgeries only that interest

the Surety Company. For some time, apparently, checks have been coming into the bank for sums all the way

from a hundred dollars to five thousand. They have been so well executed that some of them have been

certified by the bank, all of them have been accepted when they came back from other banks, and even the

officers of the company don't seem to be able to pick any flaws in them except as to the payee and the

amounts for which they were drawn. They have the correct safety tint on the paper and are stamped with

rubber stamps that are almost precisely like those used by the ByProducts Company.

"You know that banking customs often make some kinds of fraud comparatively easy. For instance no bank

will pay out a hundred dollars or often even a dollar without identification, but they will certify a check for

almost any office boy who comes in with it. The common method of forgers lately has been to take such a

certified forged check, deposit it in another bank, then gradually withdraw it in a few days before there is

time to discover the forgery. In this case they must have had the additional advantage that the insider in the

company or bank could give information and tip the forger off if the forgery happened to be discovered."

"John Carroll merely a figurehead, I understand. He's in New York now, working with us, as I shall tell you

presently. If there is any one else besides Brown in it, it might be Michael Dawson, the nominal assistant but

really the active treasurer. There you have another man whom we suspect, and, strangely enough, can't find.

Dawson was the assistant treasurer of the company, you understand, not of the bank."

"No, we can't find him. He was married a few days ago, married a pretty prominent society girl in the city,

Miss Sibyl Sanderson. It seems they kept the itinerary of their honeymoon secret, more as a joke on their

friends than anything else, they said, for Miss Sanderson was a wellknown beauty and the newspapers

bothered the couple a good deal with publicity that was distasteful. At least that was his story. No one knows

"You see, this getting married had something to do with the exposure in the first place. For the major part of

the forgeries consists not so much in the checks, which interest my company, but in fraudulently issued stock

certificates of the ByProducts Company. About a million of the common stock was held as treasury stock

"Some one has issued a large amount of it, all properly signed and sealed. Whoever it was had a little office

in Chicago from which the stock was sold quietly by a confederate, probably a woman, for women seem to

rope in the suckers best in these getrichquick schemes. And, well, if it was Dawson the honeymoon has

given him a splendid chance to make his getaway, though it also resulted in the exposure of the forgeries.

Carroll had to take up more or less active duty, with the result that a new man unearthed the but, say, are

Williams was leaning forward, looking anxiously at Kennedy and it would not have taken a clairvoyant to

"Indeed I am," replied Craig, "especially as there seems to be a doubt about the guilty person on the inside."

"There is doubt enough, all right," rejoined Williams, "at least I think so, though our detectives in Chicago

who have gone over the thing pretty thoroughly have been sure of fixing something on Bolton Brown, the

cashier. You see the blank stock certificates were kept in the company's vault in the bank to which, of course,

Brown had access. But then, as Carroll argues, Dawson had access to them, too, which is very true more so

for Dawson than for Brown, who was in the bank and not in the company. I'm all at sea. Perhaps if you're

interested you'd better see Carroll. He's here in the city and I'm sure I could get you a good fee out of the case

We had finished luncheon and, as Craig nodded, Williams dived into a telephone booth outside the

diningroom and in a few moments emerged, perspiring from the closeness. He announced that Carroll

requested that we call on him at an office in Wall Street, a few blocks away, where he made his headquarters

when he was in New York. The whole thing was done with such despatch that I could not help feeling that

Carroll had been waiting to hear from his friend in the insurance company. The look of relief on Williams's

face when Kennedy said he would go immediately showed plainly that the insurance man considered the cost

of the luncheon, which had been no slight affair, in the light of a good investment in the interest of his

company, which was "in bad" for the largest forgery insurance loss since they had begun to write that sort of

As we hurried down to Wall Street, Kennedy took occasion to remark, "Science seems to have safeguarded

banks and other institutions pretty well against outside robbery. But protection against employees who can

manipulate books and records does not seem to have advanced as rapidly. Sometimes I think it may have

lessened. Greater temptations assail the cashier or clerk with greater opportunity for speculation, and the

banks, as many authorities will agree, have not made enough use of the machinery available to put a stop to

embezzlement. This case is evidently one of the results. The careless fellows at the top, like this man Carroll

whom we are going to see, generally put forward as excuse the statement that the science of banking and of

business is so complex that a rascal with ingenuity enough to falsify the books is almost impossible of

detection. Yet when the cat is out of the bag as in several recent cases the methods used are often of the

baldest and most transparent sort, fictitious names, dummies, and all sorts of juggling and kiting of checks.

John Carroll Was a haggard and unkempt sort of man. He looked to me as if the defalcations had preyed on

his mind until they had become a veritable obsession. It was literally true that they were all that he could talk

about, all that he was thinking about. He was paying now a heavy penalty for having been a dummy and

"This thing has become a matter of life and death with me," he began eagerly, scarcely waiting for us to

introduce ourselves, as he fixed his unnaturally bright eyes on us anxiously. "I've simply got to find the man

who has so nearly wrecked the ByProducts Bank and Company. Find him or not, I suppose I am a ruined

He sighed and his eyes wandered vacantly out of the window as if he were seeking rest and could not find it.

"I understand that the cashier, Bolton Brown, has been arrested," prompted Kennedy.

"Yes, Bolton Brown, arrested," he repeated slowly, "and since he has been out on bail he, too, seems to have

disappeared. Now let me tell you about what I think of that, Kennedy. I know it looks bad for Brown. Perhaps

he's the man. The Surety Company says so, anyway. But we must look at this thing calmly."

He was himself quite excited, as he went on, "You understand, I suppose, just how much Brown must have

been reasonably responsible for passing the checks through the bank? He saw personally about as many of

them as as I did, which was none until the exposure came. They were deposited in other banks by people

whom we can't identify but who must have opened accounts for the purpose of finally putting through a few

bad checks. Then they came back to our bank in the regular channels and were accepted. By various kinds of

juggling they were covered up. Why, some of them looked so good that they were even certified by our bank

before they were deposited in the other banks. Now, as Brown claims, he never saw checks unless there was

something special about them and there seemed at the time to be nothing wrong about these.

"But in the public mind I know there is prejudice against any bank official who speculates or leads a fast life,

and of course it is warranted. Still, if Brown should clear himself finally the thing will come back to Dawson

and even if he is guilty, it will make me the er the ultimate goat. The upshot of it all will be that I shall

have to stand the blame, if not the guilt, and the only way I can atone for my laxity in the past is by activity in

catching the real offender and perhaps by restoring to the company and the bank whatever can yet be

"But," asked Kennedy sympathetically, "what makes you think that you will find your man, whoever he

I admit that it is only a very slight clue that I have," he replied confidentially. "It is just a hint Dawson

dropped once to one of the men with whom he was confidential in the company. This clerk told me that a

long=20time ago Dawson said he had always wanted to go to South America and that perhaps on his

honeymoon he might get a chance. This is the way I figured it out. You see, he is clever and some of these

South American countries have no extradition treaties with us by which we could reach him, once he got

"Perhaps he has already arrived in one of them with his wife. What makes you think he hasn't sailed yet?

"No, I don't think he has. You see, she wanted to spend a part of the honeymoon at Atlantic City. I learned

that indirectly from her folks, who profess to know no better than we do where the couple are. That was an

additional reason why I wanted to see if by coming to New York I might not pick up some trace of them,

"Yes, I think I have." He handed us a lettergram which he had just received from Chicago. It read: "Two

more checks have come in today from Atlantic City and New York. They seem to be in payment of bills, as

they are for odd amounts. One is from the Lorraine at Atlantic City and the other from the Hotel Amsterdam

"You see," he resumed as we finished reading, "it is now the 23rd, so that there is a difference of three days.

He was here on the 20th. Now the next ship that he could take after the 20th sails from Brooklyn on the 25th.

If he's clever he won't board that ship except in a disguise, for he will know that by that time some one must

be watching. Now I want you to help me penetrate that disguise. Of course we can't arrest the whole shipload

of passengers, but if you, with your scientific knowledge, could pick him out, then we could hold him and

have breathing space to find out whether he is guilty alone or has been working with Bolton Brown."

Carroll was now pacing the office with excitement as he unfolded his scheme which meant so much for

"Hm," mused Kennedy. "I suppose Dawson was a man of exemplary habits? They almost always are. No

Carroll paused in his nervous tread. "That's another thing I've discovered. On the contrary, I think Dawson

was a secret drug fiend. I found that out after he left. In his desk at the ByProducts office we discovered

hypodermic needles and a whole outfit morphine, I think it was. You know how cunningly a real morphine

Kennedy was now all attention. As the case unrolled it was assuming one new and surprising aspect after

"The lettergram would indicate that he had been stopping at the Lorraine in Atlantic City," remarked

"So I would infer, and at the Amsterdam in New York. But you can depend on it that he has not been going

under his own name nor, I believe as far as I can find out, even under his own face. I think the fellow has

already assumed a disguise, for nowhere can I find any description that even I could recognise."

"Strange," murmured Kennedy. "I'll have to look into it. And only two days in which to do it, too. You will

pardon me if I excuse myself now? There are certain aspects of the case that I hope I shall be able to shed

"You'll find Dawson clever, clever as he can be," said Carroll, not anxious to have Kennedy go as long as he

would listen to the story which was bursting from his overwrought mind. "He was able to cover up the checks

by juggling the accounts. But that didn't satisfy him. He was after something big. So he started in to issue the

treasury stock, forging the signatures of the president and the treasurer, that is, my signature. Of course that

sort of game couldn't last forever. Some one was going to demand dividends on his stock, or transfer it, or ask

to have it recorded on the books, or something that would give the whole scheme away. From each person to

whom he sold stock I believe he demanded some kind of promise not to sell it within a certain period, and in

that way we figure that he gave himself plenty of time to realise several hundred thousand dollars quietly. It

may be that some of the forged checks represented fake interest payments. Anyhow, he's at the end of his

rope now. We've had an exciting chase. I had followed down several false clues before the real significance

of the hint about South America dawned on me. Now I have gone as far as I dare with it without calling in

Kennedy was anxious to go, but he paused long enough to ask another question. "And the girl?" he broke in.

"She must be in the game or her letters to some of her friends would have betrayed their whereabouts. What

"Miss Sanderson was very popular in a certain rather flashy set in Chicago. But her folks were bounders.

They lived right up to the limit, just as Dawson did, in my opinion. Oh, you can be sure that if a proposition

like this were put up to her she'd take a chance to get away with it. She runs no risks. She didn't do it anyhow,

and as for her part, after the fact, why, a woman is always pretty safe more sinned against than sinning, and

"Yes, plenty of them. Since the story has been told in print they have been pouring in. Here are several."

He pulled several finely engraved certificates from his pocket and Kennedy scrutinised them minutely.

Certainly," replied Carroll, "and if you want any more I can wire to Chicago for them."

"No, these will be sufficient for the present, thank you," said Craig. "I shall keep in touch with you and let

Our ride uptown to the laboratory was completed in silence which I did not interrupt, for I could see that

Kennedy was thinking out a course of action. The quick pace at which he crossed the campus to the

In the laboratory Craig hastily wrote a note, opened a drawer of his desk, and selected one from a bunch of

special envelopes which he seemed to be saving for some purpose. He sealed it with some care, and gave it to

me to post immediately. It was addressed to Dawson at the Hotel Amsterdam. On my return I found him

deeply engrossed in the examination of the forged shares of stock. Having talked with him more or less in the

past about handwriting I did not have to be told that he was using a microscope to discover any erasures and

"I can't see anything wrong with these documents," he remarked at length. "They show no erasures or

alterations. On their face they look as good as the real article. Even if they are tracings they are remarkably

line work. It certainly is a fact, however, that they superimpose. They might all have been made from the

"I need hardly to say to you, Walter, that the microscope in its various forms and with its various attachments

is of great assistance to the document examiner. Even a low magnification frequently reveals a drawing,

hesitating method of production, or patched and reinforced strokes as well as erasures by chemicals or by

abrasion. The stereoscopic microscope, which is of value in studying abrasions and alterations since it gives

depth, in this case tells me that there has been nothing of that sort practised. My colour comparison

microscope, which permits the comparison of the ink on two different documents or two places on one

document at the same time, tells me something. This instrument with new and accurately coloured glasses

enables me to measure the tints of the ink of these signatures with the greatest accuracy and I can do what

was hitherto impossible =20 determine how long the writing has been on the paper. I should say it was all

very recent, approximately within the last two months or six weeks, and I believe that whenever the stock

"There isn't time now to go into the thing more deeply, but if it becomes necessary I can go back to it with the

aid of the camera lucida and the microscopic enlarger, as well as this specially constructed document camera

with lenses certified by the government. If it comes to a showdown I suppose I shall have to prove my point

"There is certainly something very curious about these signatures," he concluded. "I don't know what

measurements would show, but they are really too good. You know a forged signature may be of two kinds

too bad or too good. These are, I believe, tracings. If they were your signature and mine, Walter, I shouldn't

hesitate to pronounce them tracings. But there is always some slight room for doubt in these special cases

where a man sits down and is in the habit of writing his signature over and over again on one stock or bond

after another. He may get so used to it that he does it automatically and his signatures may come pretty close

to superimposing. If I had time, though, I think I could demonstrate that there are altogether too many points

of similarity for these to be genuine signatures. But we've got to act quickly in this case or not at all, and I see

that if I am to get to Atlantic City tonight I can't waste much more time here. I wish you would keep an eye

on the Hotel Amsterdam while I am gone, Walter, and meet me here, tomorrow. I'll wire when I'll be back.

It was well along in the afternoon when Kennedy took a train for the famous seaside resort, leaving me in

New York with a roving commission to do nothing. All that I was able to learn at the Hotel Amsterdam was

that a man with a Van Dyke beard had stung the office with a bogus check, although he had seemed to come

well recommended. The description of the woman with him who seemed to be his wife might have fitted

either Mrs. Dawson or Adele DeMott. The only person who had called had been a man who said he

represented the ByProducts Company and was the treasurer. He had questioned the hotel people rather

closely about the whereabouts of the couple who had paid their expenses with the worthless slip of paper. It

was not difficult to infer that this man was Carroll who had been hot on the trail, especially as he said that he

personally would see the check paid if the hotel people would keep a sharp watch for the return of the man

He seemed bursting with news. "I think I'm on the trail," he cried, throwing his grip into a corner and not

waiting for me to ask him what success he had had. "I went directly to the Lorraine and began frankly by

telling them that I represented the ByProducts Company in New York and was authorised to investigate the

bad check which they had received. They couldn't describe Dawson very well at least their description would

have fitted almost any one. One thing I think I did learn and that was that his disguise must include a Van

Dyke beard. He would scarcely have had time to grow one of his own and I believe when he was last seen in

"But," I objected, "men with Van Dyke beards are common enough." Then I related my experience at the

"The same fellow," ejaculated Kennedy. "The beard seems to have covered a multitude of sins, for while

every one could recall that, no one had a word to say about his features. However, Walter, there's just one

chance of making his identification sure, and a peculiar coincidence it is, too. It seems that one night this man

and a lady who may have been the former Miss Sanderson, though the description of her like most amateur

descriptions wasn't very accurate, were dining at the Lorraine. The Lorraine is getting up a new booklet about

its accommodations and a photographer had been engaged to take a flashlight of the diningroom for the

"No sooner had the flash been lighted and the picture taken than a man with a Van Dyke beard your friend

of the Amsterdam, no doubt, Walter, rushed up to the photographer and offered him fifty dollars for the

plate. The photographer thought at first it was some sport who had reasons for not wishing to appear in print

in Atlantic City, as many have. The man seemed to notice that the photographer was a little suspicious and he

hastened to make some kind of excuse about wanting the home folks to see how swell he and his wife were

dining in evening dress. It was a rather lame excuse, but the fifty dollars looked good to the photographer and

he agreed to develop the plate and turn it over with some prints all ready for mailing the next day. The man

seemed satisfied and the photographer took another flashlight, this time with one of the tables vacant.

"Sure enough, the next day the man with a beard turned up for the plate. The photographer tells me that he

had it all wrapped up ready to mail, just to call the fellow's bluff. The man was equal to the occasion, paid the

money, wrote an address on the package which the photographer did not see, and as there was a box for

mailing packages right at the door on the boardwalk there was no excuse for not mailing it directly. Now if I

could get hold of that plate or a print from it I could identify Dawson in his disguise in a moment. I've started

the postoffice trying to trace that package both at Atlantic City and in Chicago, where I think it must have

The rest of the afternoon we spent in canvassing the drug stores in the vicinity of the Amsterdam, Kennedy's

idea being that if Dawson was a habitual morphine fiend he must have replenished his supply of the drug in

New York, particularly if he was contemplating a long journey where it might be difficult to obtain.

After many disappointments we finally succeeded in finding a shop where a man posing as a doctor had made

a rather large purchase. The name he gave was of course of no importance. What did interest us was that

again we crossed the trail of a man with a Van Dyke beard. He had been accompanied by a woman whom the

druggist described as rather flashily dressed, though her face was hidden under a huge hat and a veil. "Looked

very attractive," as the druggist put it, "but she might have been a negress for all I could tell you of her face."

"Humph," grunted Kennedy, as we were leaving the store. "You wouldn't believe it, but it is the hardest thing

in the world to get an accurate description of any one. The psychologists have said enough about it, but you

don't realise it until you are up against it. Why, that might have been the DeMott woman just as well as the

former Miss Sanderson, and the man might have been Bolton Brown as well as Dawson, for all we know.

They've both disappeared now. I wish we could get some word about that photograph. That would settle it."

In the last mail that night Kennedy received back the letter which he had addressed to Michael Dawson. On it

"On the contrary," he remarked, half to himself, "the owner was found. Only he returned the letter back to the

postman after he had opened it and found that it was just a note of no importance which I scribbled just to see

"Do you see those blots on the back? I had several of these envelopes prepared ready for use when I needed

them. I had some tannin placed on the flap and then covered thickly with gum. On the envelope itself was

some iron sulphate under more gum. I carefully sealed the letter, using very little moisture. The gum then

separated the two prepared parts. Now if that letter were steamed open the tannin and the sulphate would

come together, run, and leave a smudge. You see the blots? The inference is obvious."

Clearly, then, our chase was getting warmer. Dawson had been in Atlantic City at least within a few days.

The fruit company steamer to South America on which Carroll believed he was booked to sail under an

assumed name and with an assumed face was to sail the following noon. And still we had no word from

Chicago as to the destination of the photograph, or the identity of the man in the Van Dyke beard who had

been so particular to disarm suspicion in the purchase of the plate from the photographer a few days before.

The mail also contained a message from Williams of the Surety Company with the interesting information

that Bolton Brown's attorney had refused to say where his client had gone since he had been released on bail,

but that he would be produced when wanted. Adele DeMott had not been seen for several days in Chicago

and the police there were of the opinion that she had gone to New York, where it would be pretty easy for her

to pass unnoticed. These facts further complicated the case and made the finding of the photograph even

If we were going to do anything it must be done quickly. There was no time to lose. The last of the fast trains

for the day had left and the photograph, even though it were found, could not possibly reach us in time to be

of use before the steamer sailed from Brooklyn. It was an emergency such as Kennedy had never yet faced,

But, as usual, Craig was not without some resource, though it looked impossible to me to do anything but

make a hit or miss arrest at the boat. It was late in the evening when he returned from a conference with an

officer of the Telegraph and Telephone Company to whom Williams had given him a card of introduction.

The upshot had been that he had called up Chicago and talked for a long time with Professor Clark, a former

classmate of ours who was now in the technology school of the university out there. Kennedy and Clark had

been in correspondence for some time, I knew, about some technical matters, though I had no idea what it

"There's one thing we can always do," I remarked as we walked slowly over to the laboratory from our

"What's that?" he asked absentmindedly, more from politeness than anything else.

"Arrest every one with a Van Dyke beard who goes on the boat tomorrow," I replied.

Kennedy smiled. "I don't feel prepared to stand a suit for false arrest," he said simply, " especially as the

victim would feel pretty hot if we caused him to miss his boat. Men with beards are not so uncommon, after

We had reached the laboratory. Linemen were stringing wires under the electric lights of the campus from the

That night and far into the morning Kennedy was working in the laboratory on a peculiarly complicated piece

of mechanism consisting of electromagnets, rolls, and a stylus and numerous other contrivances which did

not suggest to my mind anything he had ever used before in our adventures. I killed time as best I could

watching him adjust the thing with the most minute care and precision. Finally I came to the conclusion that

as I was not likely to be of the least assistance, even if I had been initiated into what was afoot, I had as well

"There is one thing you can do for me in the morning, Walter," said Kennedy, continuing to work over a

delicate piece of clockwork which formed a part of the apparatus. "In case I do not see you then, get in touch

with Williams and Carroll and have them come here about ten o'clock with an automobile. If I am not ready

for them then I'm afraid I never shall be, and we shall have to finish the job with the lack of finesse you

Kennedy could not have slept much during the night, for though his bed had been slept in he was up and

away before I could see him again. I made a hurried trip downtown to catch Carroll and Williams and then

returned to the laboratory, where Craig had evidently just finished a satisfactory preliminary test of his

"Still no message," he began in reply to my unspoken question. He was plainly growing restless with the

inaction, though frequent talks over longdistance with Chicago seemed to reassure him. Thanks to the

influence of Williams he had at least a direct wire from his laboratory to the city which was now the scene of

As nearly as I could gather from the onesided conversations I heard and the remarks which Kennedy

dropped, the Chicago postoffice inspectors were still searching for a trace of the package from Atlantic City

which was to reveal the identity of the man who had passed the bogus checks and sold the forged certificates

of stock. Somewhere in that great city was a photograph of the promoter and of the woman who was aiding

him to escape, taken in Atlantic City and sent by mail to Chicago. Who had received it? Would it be found in

time to be of use? What would it reveal? It was like hunting for a needle in a haystack, and yet the latest

reports seemed to encourage Kennedy with the hope that the authorities were at last on the trail of the secret

office from which the stock had been sold. He was fuming and wishing that he could be at both ends of the

We turned. There were Carroll and Williams who had come for us with an automobile to go over to watch at

the wharf in Brooklyn for our man. It was Carroll who spoke. The strain of the suspense was telling on him

and I could readily imagine that he, like so many others who had never seen Kennedy in action, had not the

"Not yet," replied Kennedy, still busy about his apparatus on the table. "I suppose you have heard nothing?"

"Nothing since my note of last night," returned Williams impatiently. "Our detectives still insist that Bolton

Brown is the man to watch, and the disappearance of Adele DeMott at this time certainly looks bad for him."

"It does, I admit," said Carroll reluctantly. "What's all this stuff on the table?" he asked, indicating the

Kennedy did not have time to reply, for the telephone bell was tinkling insistently.

"I've got Chicago on the wire," Craig informed us, placing his hand over the transmitter as he waited for

longdistance to make the final connection. "I'll try to repeat as much of the conversation as I can so that you

can follow it. Hello yes this is Kennedy. Is that you, Clark? It's all arranged at this end. How's your end of

the line? Have you a good connection? Yes? My synchroniser is working fine here, too. All right. Suppose

As Kennedy gave a few final touches to the peculiar apparatus on the table, the cylindrical drum before us

began slowly to revolve and the stylus or needle pressed down on the sensitised paper with which the drum

was covered, apparently with varying intensity as it turned. Round and round the cylinder revolved like a

"This," exclaimed Kennedy proudly, "is the 'electric eye,' the telelectrograph invented by Thorne Baker in

England. Clark and I have been intending to try it out for a long time. It at last makes possible the electric

transmission of photographs, using the telephone wires because they are much better for such a purpose than

Slowly the needle was tracing out a picture on the paper. It was only a thin band yet, but gradually it was

widening, though we could not guess what it was about to reveal as the ceaseless revolutions widened the

"I may say," explained Kennedy as we waited breathlessly, "that another system known as the Korn system of

telegraphing pictures has also been in use in London, Paris, Berlin, and other cities at various times for some

years. Korn's apparatus depends on the ability of the element selenium to vary the strength of an electric

current passing through it in proportion to the brightness with which the selenium is illuminated. A new field

has been opened by these inventions which are now becoming more and more numerous, since the Korn

"The various steps in sending a photograph by the Baker telelectrograph are not so difficult to understand,

after all. First an ordinary photograph is taken and a negative made. Then a print is made and a wet plate

negative is printed on a sheet of sensitised tinfoil which has been treated with a singleline screen. You know

a halftone consists of a photograph through a screen composed of lines running perpendicular to each other

a coarse screen for newspaper work, and a fine screen for better work, such as in magazines. Well, in this

case the screen is composed of lines running parallel in one direction only, not crossing at right angles. A

halftone is composed of minute points, some light, some dark. This print is composed of long shaded lines,

"Well, he resumed as the print widened visibly, this tinfoil negative is wrapped around a cylinder at the other

end of the line and a stylus with a very delicate, sensitive point begins passing over it, crossing the parallel

lines at right angles, like the other lines of a regular halftone. Whenever the point of the stylus passes over

one of the lighter spots on the photographic print it sends on a longer electrical vibration, over the darker

spots a shorter vibration. The ever changing electrical current passes up through the stylus, vibrates with ever

varying degrees of intensity over the thousand miles of telephone wire between Chicago and this instrument

"In this receiving apparatus the current causes another stylus to pass over a sheet of sensitised chemical paper

such as we have here. The receiving stylus passes over the paper here synchronously with the transmitting

stylus in Chicago. The impression which each stroke of the receiving stylus makes on the paper is black or

light, according to the length of the very quickly changing vibrations of the electric current. White spots on

the photographic print come out as black spots here on the sensitised paper over which this stylus is passing,

and vice versa. In that way you can see the positive print growing here before your very eyes as the picture is

transmitted from the negative which Clark has prepared and is sending from Chicago."

As we bent over eagerly we could indeed now see what the thing was doing. It was reproducing faithfully in

"What is it?" asked Williams, still half incredulous in spite of the testimony of his eyes.

"It is a photograph which I think may aid us in deciding whether it is Dawson or Brown who is responsible

for the forgeries," answered Kennedy, "and it may help us to penetrate the man's disguise yet, before he

"You'll have to hurry," interposed Carroll, nervously looking at his watch. "She sails in an hour and a half and

"The print is almost ready," repeated Kennedy calmly. "By the way, it is a photograph which was taken at

Atlantic City a few days ago for a booklet which the Lorraine was getting out. The ByProducts forger

happened to get in it and he bribed the photographer to give him the plate and take another picture for the

booklet which would leave him out. The plate was sent to a little office in Chicago, discovered by the

postoffice inspectors, where the forged stock certificates were sold. I understood from what Clark told me

over the telephone before he started to transmit the picture that the woman in it looked very much like Adel

The machine had ceased to revolve. Craig stripped a still wet photograph off the telelectrograph instrument

and stood regarding it with intense satisfaction. Outside, the car which had been engaged to hurry us over to

Brooklyn waited. "Morphine fiends," said Kennedy as he fanned the print to dry it, " are the most unreliable

sort of people. They cover their tracks with almost diabolical cunning. In fact they seem to enjoy it. For

instance, the crimes committed by morphinists are usually against property and character and based upon

selfishness, not brutal crimes such as alcohol and other drugs induce. Kleptomania, forgery, swindling, are

"Then, too, one of the most marked phases of morphinism is the pleasure its victims take in concealing their

motives and conduct. They have a mania for leading a double life, and enjoy the deception and mask which

they draw about themselves. Persons under the influence of the drug have less power to resist physical and

mental impressions and they easily succumb to temptations and suggestions from others. Morphine stands

unequalled as a perverter of the moral sense. It creates a person whom the father of lies must recognise as

kindred to himself. I know of a case where a judge charged a jury that the prisoner, a morphine addict, was

mentally irresponsible for that reason. The judge knew what he was talking about. It subsequently developed

Come, come," broke in Carroll impatiently, we're wasting time. The ship sails in an hour and unless you want

to go down the bay on a tug you've got to catch Dawson now or never. The morphine business explains, but it

does not excuse. Come on, the car is waiting. How long do you think it will take us to get over to "

"Police headquarters?" interrupted Craig. "About fifteen minutes. This photograph shows, as I had hoped, the

real forger. John Carroll, this is a peculiar case. You have forged the name of the president of your company,

but you have also traced your own name very cleverly to look like a forgery. It is what is technically known

as autoforgery, forging one's own handwriting. At your convenience we'll ride down to Centre Street

Carroll was sputtering and almost frothing at the mouth with rage which he made no effort to suppress.

Williams was hesitating, nonplussed, until Kennedy reached over unexpectedly and grasped Carroll by the

arm. As he shoved up Carroll's sleeve he disclosed the forearm literally covered with little punctures made by

"It may interest you," remarked Kennedy, still holding Carroll in his viselike grip, while the drug fiend's

shattered nerves caused him to cower and tremble, "to know that a special detective working for me has

located Mr. and Mrs. Dawson at Bar Harbor, where they are enjoying a quiet honeymoon. Brown is safely in

the custody of his counsel, ready to appear and clear himself as soon as the public opinion which has been

falsely inflamed against him subsides. Your plan to give us the slip at the last moment at the wharf and board

the steamer for South America has miscarried. It is now too late to catch it, but I shall send a wireless that

will cause the arrest of Miss DeMott the moment the ship touches an American port at Colon, even if she

succeeds in eluding the British authorities at Kingston. The fact is, I don't much care about her, anyway.

Kennedy slapped down the now dry print that had come in over his "seeing over a wire machine." Barring the

false Van Dyke beard, it was the face of John Carroll, forger and morphine fiend. Next to him in the picture

in the brilliant and fashionable diningroom of the Lorraine was sitting Adele DeMott who had used her

"Craig, do you see that fellow over by the desk, talking to the night clerk?" I asked Kennedy as we lounged

into the lobby of the new Hotel Vanderveer one evening after reclaiming our hats from the plutocrat who had

acquired the checking privilege. We had dined on the roof garden of the Vanderveer apropos of nothing at all

"He's the house detective, McBride. Would you like to meet him? He's full of good stories, an interesting

chap. I met him at a dinner given to the President not long ago and he told me a great yarn about how the

secret service, the police, and the hotel combined to guard the President during the dinner. You know, a big

The house detective had turned and had caught my eye. Much to my surprise, he advanced to

"Say, er er Jameson," he began, at last recalling my name, though he had seen me only once and then

"Well er do you suppose you could do the house a little er =20 favour?" he asked, hesitating and

"What is it?" I queried, not feeling certain but that it was a veiled attempt to secure a little free advertising for

the Vanderveer. "By the way, let me introduce you to my friend Kennedy, McBride."

"Mr. Kennedy," exclaimed the house man deferentially, "are you very busy just now?"

"Not especially so," replied Craig. "My friend Jameson was telling me that you knew some interesting yarns

about hotel detective life. I should like to hear you tell some of them, if you are not yourself too "

"Perhaps you'd rather see one instead?" interrupted the house detective, eagerly scanning Craig's face.

"Indeed, nothing could please me more. What is it a 'con' man or a hotel 'beat'?"

McBride looked about to make sure that no one was listening. "Neither," he whispered. "It's either a suicide

or a murder. Come upstairs with me. There isn't a man in the world I would rather have met at this very

We followed McBride into an elevator which he stopped at the fifteenth floor. With a nod to the young

woman who was the floor clerk, the house detective led the way down the thickly carpeted hall, stopping at a

room which, we could see through the transom, was lighted. He drew a bunch of keys from his pocket and

The door swung open into a sumptuously fitted sittingroom. I looked in, half fearfully, but, although all the

lights were turned on, the room was empty. McBride crossed the room quickly, opened a door to a bedroom,

and jerked his head back with a quick motion, signifying his desire for us to follow.

Stretched lifeless on the white linen of the immaculate bed lay the form of a woman, a beautiful woman she

had been, too, though not with the freshness which makes American women so attractive. There was

something artificial about her beauty, the artificiality which hinted at a hidden story of a woman with a past.

She was a foreigner, apparently of one of the Latin races, although at the moment in the horror of the tragedy

before us I could not guess her nationality. It was enough for me that here lay this cold, stony, rigid beauty,

robed in the latest creations of Paris, alone in an elegantly furnished room of an exclusive hotel where

hundreds of gay guests were dining and chatting and laughing without a suspicion of the terrible secret only a

"The coroner ought to be here any moment," remarked McBride and even the callousness of the regular

detective was not sufficient to hide the real feelings of the man. His practical sense soon returned, however,

and he continued, "Now, Jameson, don't you think you could use a little influence with the newspaper men to

keep this thing off the front pages? Of course something has to be printed about it. But we don't want to

hoodoo the hotel right at the start. We had a suicide the other day who left an apologetic note that was played

up by some of the papers. Now comes this affair. The management are just as anxious to have the crime

cleared up as any one if it is a crime. But can't it be done with the soft pedal? We will stop at nothing in the

way of expense just so long as the name of the Vanderveer is kept in the background. Only, I'm afraid the

"What was her name?" asked Kennedy. "At least, under what name was she registered?

"She was registered as Madame de Nevers. It is not quite a week now since she came here, came directly

from the steamer Tripolitania. See, there are her trunks and things, all pasted over with foreign labels, not an

American label among them. I haven't the slightest doubt that her name was fictitious, for as far as I can see

all the ordinary marks of identification have been obliterated. It will take time to identify her at the best, and

in the meantime, if a crime has been committed, the guilty person may escape. What I want now, right away,

"Has nothing in her actions about the hotel offered any clue, no matter how slight?" asked Kennedy.

"Plenty of things," replied McBride quickly. "For one thing, she didn't speak very much English and her maid

seemed to do all the talking for her, even to ordering her meals, which were always served here. I did notice

Madame a few times about the hotel, though she spent most of her time in her rooms. She was attractive as

the deuce, and the men all looked at her whenever she stirred out. She never even noticed them. But she was

evidently expecting some one, for her maid had left word at the desk that if a Mr. Gonzales called, she was at

home; if any one else, she was out. For the first day or two she kept herself closely confined, except that at

the end of the second day she took a short spin through the park in a taxicab closed, even in this hot

weather. Where she went I cannot say, but when they returned the maid seemed rather agitated. At least she

was a few minutes later when she came all the way downstairs to telephone from a booth, instead of using the

room telephone. At various times the maid was sent out to execute certain errands, but always returned

promptly. Madame de Nevers was a genuine woman of mystery, but as long as she was a quiet mystery, I

"Did she have any visitors? Did this Mr. Gonzales call?" asked Kennedy at length.

"She had one visitor, a woman who called and asked if a Madame de Nevers was stopping at the=20hotel,"

answered McBride. "That was what the clerk was telling me when I happened to catch sight of you. He says

that, obedient to the orders from the maid, he told the visitor that Madame was not at home."

"Who was this visitor, do you suppose?" asked Craig. "Did she leave any card or message? Is there any clue

The detective looked at him earnestly for a time as if he hesitated to retail what might be merely pure gossip.

"The clerk does not know this absolutely, but from his acquaintance with society news and the illustrated

papers he is sure that he recognised her. He says that he feels positive that it was Miss Catharine Lovelace."

"The Southern heiress," exclaimed Kennedy. "Why, the papers say that she is engaged "

"Exactly," cut in McBride, "the heiress who is rumoured to be engaged to the Duc de Chateaurouge.

Kennedy and I exchanged, glances. "Yes," I added, recollecting a remark I had heard a few days before from

our society reporter on the Star, "I believe it has been said that Chateaurouge is in this country, incognito."

"A pretty slender thread on which to hang an identification," McBride hastened to remark. "Newspaper

photographs are not the best means of recognising anybody. Whatever there may be in it, the fact remains

that Madame de Nevers, supposing that to be her real name, has been dead for at least a day or two. The first

thing to be determined is whether this is a death from natural causes, a suicide, or a murder. After we have

Kennedy said nothing and I could not gather whether he placed greater or less value on the suspicion of the

hotel clerk. He had been making a casual examination of the body on the bed, and finding nothing he looked

intently about the room as if seeking some evidence of how the crime had been committed.

To me the thing seemed incomprehensible, that without an outcry being overheard by any of the guests a

murder could have been done in a crowded hotel in which the rooms on every side had been occupied and

people had been passing through the halls at all hours. Had it indeed been a suicide, in spite of McBride's

A low exclamation from Kennedy attracted our attention. Caught in the filmy lace folds of the woman's dress

he had found a few small and thin pieces of glass. He was regarding them with an interest that was oblivious

to everything else. As he turned them over and over and tried to fit them together they seemed to form at least

a part of what had once been a hollow globe of very thin glass, perhaps a quarter of an inch or so in diameter.

"How was the body discovered?" asked Craig at length, looking up at McBride quickly.

"Day before yesterday Madame's maid went to the cashier," repeated the detective slowly as if rehearsing the

case as much for his own information as ours, "and said that Madame had asked her to say to him that she

was going away for a few days and that under no circumstances was her room to be disturbed in her absence.

The maid was commissioned to pay the bill, not only for the time they had been here, but also for the

remainder of the week, when Madame would most likely return, if not earlier. The bill was made out and

"Since then only the chambermaid has entered this suite. The key to that closet over in the corner was gone,

and it might have hidden its secret until the end of the week or perhaps a day or two longer, if the

chambermaid hadn't been a bit curious. She hunted till she found another key that fitted, and opened the

closet door, apparently to see what Madame had been so particular to lock up in her absence. There lay the

body of Madame, fully dressed, wedged into the narrow space and huddled up in a corner. The chambermaid

"She has disappeared," replied McBride. "From the moment when the bill was paid no one about the hotel

"But you have a pretty good description of her, one that you could send out in order to find her if necessary?"

Kennedy's eye encountered the curious gaze of McBride. "This may prove to be a most unusual case," he

remarked in answer to the implied inquiry of the detective. "I suppose you have heard of the 'endormeurs' of

"It is a French word signifying a person who puts another to sleep, the sleep makers," explained Kennedy.

"They are the latest scientific school of criminals who use the most potent, quickestacting stupefying drugs.

Some of their exploits surpass anything hitherto even imagined by the European police. The American police

have been officially warned of the existence of the endormeurs and full descriptions of their methods and

"There is nothing in their repertoire so crude as chloral or knockout drops. All the derivatives of opium such

as morphine, codeine, heroine, dionine, narceine, and narcotine, to say nothing of bromure d'etyle,

bromoform, nitrite d'amyle, and amyline are known to be utilised by the endormeurs to put their victims to

sleep, and the skill which they have acquired in the use of these powerful drugs establishes them as one of the

most dangerous groups of criminals in existence. The men are all of superior intelligence and daring; the

"They will take a little thin glass ball of one of these liquids, for instance, hold it in a pocket handkerchief,

crush it, shove it under the nose of their victim, and whiff ! the victim is unconscious. But ordinarily the

endormeur does not kill. He is usually satisfied to stupefy, rob, and then leave his victim. There is something

more to this case than a mere suicide or murder, McBride. Of course she may have committed suicide with

the drugs of the endormeurs; then again she may merely have been rendered unconscious by those drugs and

some other poison may have been administered. Depend on it, there is something more back of this affair

than appears on the surface. Even as far as I have gone I do not hesitate to say that we have run across the

Kennedy had scarcely finished when McBride brought his right fist down with a resounding smack into the

" Say," he cried in great excitement, "here's another thing which may or may not have some connection with

the case. The evening after Madame arrived, I happened to be walking through the caf=82, where I saw a face

that looked familiar to me. It was that of a darkhaired, oliveskinned man, a fascinating face, but a face to

be afraid of. I remembered him, I thought, from my police experience, as a notorious crook who had not been

seen in New York for years, a man who in the old days used to gamble with death in South American

"Well, I gave the waiter, Charley, the wink and he met me in the rear of the caf=82, around a corner. You

know we have a regular system in the hotel by which I can turn all the help into amateur sleuths. I told him to

be very careful about the darkfaced man and the younger man who was with him, to be particular to wait on

"Charley knows his business, and the barest perceptible sign from me makes him an obsequious waiter. Of

course the dark man didn't notice it at the time, but if he had been more observant he would have seen that

three times during his chat with his companion Charley had wiped off his table with lingering hand. Twice he

had put fresh seltzer in his drink. Like a good waiter always working for a big tip he had hovered near, his

face blank and his eyes unobservant. But that waiter was an important link in my chain of protection of the

hotel against crooks. He was there to listen and to tip me off, which he did between orders.

"There wasn't much that he overheard, but what there was of it was so suspicious that I did not hesitate to

conclude that the fellow was an undesirable guest. It was something about the Panama Canal, and a coaling

station of a steamship and fruit concern on the shore of one of the Latin American countries. It was, he said,

in reality to be the coaling station of a certain European power which he did not name but which the younger

man seemed to understand. They talked of wharves and tracts of land, of sovereignty and blue prints, the

Monroe Doctrine, value in case of war, and a lot of other things. Then they talked of money, and though

Charley was most assiduous at the time all he overheard was something about 'ten thousand francs' and

'buying her off,' and finally a whispered confidence of which he caught the words, 'just a blind to get her over

here, away from Paris.' Finally the dark man in an apparent burst of confidence said something about 'the

other plans being the real thing after all,' and that the whole affair would bring him in fifty thousand francs,

with which he could afford to be liberal. Charley could get no inkling about what that other thing was.

"But I felt sure that he had heard enough to warrant the belief that some kind of confidence game was being

discussed. To tell the truth I didn't care much what it was, at the time. It might have been an attempt of the

darkvisaged fellow to sell the Canal to a comeon. What I wanted was to have it known that the Vanderveer

was not to be a resort of such gentry as this. But I'm afraid it was much more serious than I thought at the

"Well, the dark man finally excused himself and sauntered into the lobby and up to the desk, with me after

him around the opposite way. He was looking over the day's arrivals on the register when I concluded that it

was about time to do something. I was standing directly beside him lighting a cigar. I turned quickly on him

and deliberately trod on the man's patent leather shoe. He faced me furiously at not getting any apology.

'Sacre,' he exclaimed, 'what the ' But before he could finish I moved still closer and pinched his elbow. A

dull red glow of suppressed anger spread over his face, but he cut his words short. He knew and I knew he

knew. That is the sign in the continental hotels when they find a crook and quietly ask him to move on. The

man turned on his heel and stalked out of the hotel. By and by the young man in the caf=82, considerably

annoyed at the sudden inattention of the waiter who acted as if he wasn't satisfied with his tip, strolled

through the lobby and not seeing his darkskinned friend, also disappeared. I wish to heaven I had had them

shadowed. The young fellow wasn't a comeon at all. There was something afoot between these two, mark

"But why do you connect that incident with this case of Madame de Nevers?" asked Kennedy, a little

"Because the next day, and the day that Madame's maid disappeared, I happened to see a man bidding

goodbye to a woman at the rear carriage entrance of the hotel. The woman was Madame's maid and the man

"You said a moment ago that you had a good description of the maid or could write one. Do you think you

The hotel detective thought a minute or two. "If she has gone to any of the other hotels in this city, I could,"

he answered slowly. "You know we have recently formed a sort of clearing house, we hotel detectives, and

we are working together now very well, though secretly. It is barely possible that she has gone to another

"Then I can leave that part of it to you, McBride?" asked Kennedy thoughtfully as if laying out a programme

of action in his mind. "You will set the hotel detectives on the trail as well as the police of the city, and of

other cities, will make the inquiries at the steamships and railroads, and all that sort of thing? Try to find

some trace of the two men whom you saw in the caf=82 at the same time. But for the present I should say

"Trust it to me," agreed McBride confidently. A heavy tap sounded at the door and McBride opened it. It was

I shall not go into the lengthy investigation which the coroner conducted, questioning one servant and

employee after another without eliciting any more real information than we had already obtained so concisely

from the house man. The coroner was, of course, angry at the removal of the body from the closet to the bed

because he wanted to view it in the position in which it had been found, but as that had been done by the

servants before McBride could stop them, there was nothing to do about it but accept the facts.

"A very peculiar case," remarked the coroner at the conclusion of his examination, with the air of a man who

could shed much light on it from his wide experience if he chose. "There is just one point that we shall have

to clear up, however. What was the cause of the death of the deceased? There is no gas in the room. It

couldn't have been illuminating gas, then. No, it must have been a poison of some kind. Then as to the

motive," he added, trying to look confident but really shooting a tentative remark at Craig and the house

detective, who said nothing. "It looks a good deal like that other suicide at least a suicide which some one

has endeavoured to conceal," he added, hastily recollecting the manner in which the body had been found and

"Didn't I tell you?" rejoined McBride dolefully after we had left the coroner downstairs a few minutes later.

"We can't help what he thinks yet," remarked Craig. "All we can do is to run down the clues which we

have. I will leave the maid to be found by your organisation, McBride. Let me see, the theatres and roof

gardens must be letting out by this time. I will see if I can get any information from Miss Lovelace. Find her

The Southern heiress, who had attracted more attention by her beauty than by her fortune which was only

moderate as American fortunes go nowadays, lived in an apartment facing the park, with her mother, a

woman whose social ambitions it was commonly known had no bounds and were often sadly imposed upon.

Fortunately we arrived at the apartment not very many minutes after the mother and daughter, and although it

was late, Kennedy sent up his card with an urgent message to see them. They received us in a large

drawingroom and were plainly annoyed by our visit, though that of course was susceptible of a natural

"What is it that you wished to see me about?" began Mrs. Lovelace in a tone which was intended to close the

interview almost before it was begun. Kennedy had not wished to see her about anything, but of course he did

not even hint as much in his reply which was made to her but directed at Miss Lovelace.

"Could you tell me anything about a Madame de Nevers who was staying at the Vanderveer?" asked Craig,

turning quickly to the daughter so as to catch the full effect of his question, and then waiting as if expecting

The young lady's face blanched slightly and she seemed to catch her breath for an instant, but she kept her

composure admirably in spite of the evident shock of Craig's purposely abrupt question.

"I have heard of her," Miss Lovelace replied with forced calmness as he continued to look to her for an

"Because a woman who is supposed to be Madame de Nevers has committed suicide at the Vanderveer and it

By this time she had become perfect mistress of herself again, from which I argued that whatever knowledge

"I, identify her? Why, I never saw her. I simply know that such a creature exists.

She said it defiantly and with an iciness which showed more plainly than in mere words that she scorned even

"Do you suppose the Duc de Chateaurouge would be able to identify her?" asked Kennedy mercilessly. "One

moment, please," he added, anticipating the blank look of amazement on her face. "I have reason to believe

"Why do you ask me?" she said at length. "Isn't it enough that some of the newspapers have said so? If you

We were getting nowhere in this interview, at least so I thought. Kennedy cut it short, especially as he noted

the evident restlessness of Mrs. Lovelace. However, he had gained his point. Whether or not the duke was in

New York or Washington or Spitzbergen, he now felt sure that Miss Lovelace knew of, and perhaps

something about, Madame de Nevers. In some way the dead woman had communicated with her and Miss

Lovelace had been the woman whom the hotel clerk had seen at the Vanderveer. We withdrew as gracefully

As there was nothing else to be done at that late hour, Craig decided to sleep soundly over the case, his

Imagine our surprise in the morning at being waited on by the coroner himself, who in a few words explained

that he was far from satisfied with the progress his own office was making with the case.

"You understand," he concluded after a lengthy statement of confession and avoidance, "we have no very

good laboratory facilities of our own to carry out the necessary chemical, pathological, and bacteriological

investigations in cases of homicide and suicide. We are often forced to resort to private laboratories, as you

know in the past when I have had to appeal to you. Now, Professor Kennedy, if we might turn over that

research part of the case to you, sir, I will engage to see that a reasonable bill for your professional services

Craig snapped at the opportunity, though he did not allow the coroner to gain that impression.

"Very well," agreed that official, " I shall see that all the necessary organs for a thorough test as to the cause

The coroner was as good as his word, and we had scarcely breakfasted and arrived at Craig's scientific

workshop before that official appeared, accompanied by a man who carried in uncanny jars the necessary

Kennedy was now in his element. The case had taken an unexpected turn which made him a leading factor in

its solution. Whatever suspicions he may have entertained unofficially the night before he could now openly

He took a little piece of lung tissue and with sharp sterilised knife cut it up. Then he made it slightly alkaline

with a little sodium carbonate, talking half to us and half to himself as he worked. The next step was to place

the matter in a glass flask in a water bath where it was heated. From the flask a Bohemian glass tube led into

a cool jar and on a part of the tube a flame was playing which heated it to redness for two or three inches.

Several minutes we waited in silence. Finally when the process had gone far enough, Kennedy took a piece of

paper which had been treated with iodised starch, as he later explained. He plunged the paper into the cool

Craig said nothing, but it was evident that he was more than gratified by what had happened. He quickly

reached for a bottle on the shelves before him, and I could see from the label on the brown glass that it was

nitrate of silver. As he plunged a little in a testtube into the jar a strong precipitate was gradually formed.

"It is the decided reaction for chloroform," he exclaimed simply in reply to our unspoken questions.

"Chloroform," repeated the coroner, rather doubtfully, and it was evident that he had expected a poison and

had not anticipated any result whatever from an examination of the lungs instead of the stomach to which he

had confined his own work so far. "Could chloroform be discovered in the lungs or viscera after so many

days? There was one famous chloroform case for which a man is now serving a life term in Sing Sing which I

have understood there was grave doubt in the minds of the experts. Mind, I am not trying to question the

results of your work except as they might naturally be questioned in court. It seems to me that the volatility of

chloroform might very possibly preclude its discovery after a short time. Then again, might not other

substances be generated in a dead body which would give a reaction very much like chloroform? We must

consider all these questions before we abandon the poison theory, sir. Remember, this is the summer time

"I am in a position to meet all of your objections," he explained simply. "I think I could lay it down as a rule

that by proper methods chloroform may be discovered in the viscera much longer after death than is

commonly supposed in summer from six days to three weeks, with a practical working range of say twelve

days, while in winter it may be found even after several months by the right method. Certainly this case

comes within the average length of time. More than that, no substance is generated by the process of

decomposition which will vitiate the test for chloroform which I have just made. Chloroform has an affinity

for water and is also a preservative, and hence from all these facts I think it safe to conclude that sometimes

traces of it may be found for two weeks after its administration, certainly for a few days."

"And Madame de Nevers? "queried the coroner, as if the turn of events was necessitating a complete

"Was murdered," completed Kennedy in a tone that left nothing more to be said on the subject.

"But," persisted the coroner, "if she was murdered by the use of chloroform, how do you account for the fact

that it was done without a struggle? There were no marks of violence and I, for one, do not believe that under

ordinary circumstances any one will passively submit to such an administration without a hard fight."

>From his pocket Kennedy drew a small pasteboard box filled with tiny globes, some bonbons and lozenges,

a small hypodermic syringe, and a few cigars and cigarettes. He held it out in the palm of his hand so that we

"This," he remarked, "is the standard equipment of the endormeur. Whoever obtained admittance to

Madame's rooms, either as a matter of course or secretly, must have engaged her in conversation, disarmed

suspicion, and then suddenly she must have found a pocket handkerchief under her nose. The criminal

crushed a globe of liquid in the handkerchief, the victim lost consciousness, the chloroform was administered

without a struggle, all marks of identification were obliterated, the body was placed in the closet, and the

maid either as principal or accessory took the most likely means of postponing discovery by paying the

Kennedy slipped the box back into his pocket. The coroner had, I think, been expecting Craig's verdict,

although he was loath to abandon his own suicide theory and had held it to the last possible moment. At any

rate, so far he had said little, apparently preferring to keep his own counsel as to his course of action and to

He drew a note from his pocket, however. "I suppose," he began tentatively, shaking the note as he glanced

doubtfully from it to us, "that you have heard that among the callers on this unfortunate woman was a lady of

"I have heard a rumour to that effect," replied Kennedy as he busied himself cleaning up the apparatus he had

just used. There was nothing in his manner even to hint at the fact that we had gone further and interviewed

"Well," resumed the coroner, "in view of what you have just discovered I don't mind telling you that I believe

it was more than a rumour. I have had a man watching the woman and this is a report I received just before I

We read the note which he now handed to us. It was just a hasty line: "Miss Lovelace left hurriedly for

What was the meaning of it? Clearly, as we probed deeper into the case, its ramifications grew wider than

anything we had yet expected. Why had Miss Lovelace gone to Washington, of all places, at this torrid

The coroner had scarcely left us, more mystified than ever, when a telephone message came from McBride

saying that he had some important news for us if we would meet him at the St. Cenis Hotel within an hour.

As Kennedy hung up the receiver he quietly took a pistol from a drawer of his desk, broke it quickly, and

looked thoughtfully at the cartridges in the cylinder. Then he snapped it shut and stuck it into his pocket.

"There's no telling what we may run up against before we get back to the laboratory," he remarked and we

The description which the house man had sent out to the other hotel detectives the night before had already

produced a result. Within the past two days a man answering the description of the younger man whom

McBride had seen in the caf=82 and a woman who might very possibly have been Madame's maid had come

to the St. Cenis as M. and Mme. Duval. Their baggage was light, but they had been at pains to impress upon

the hotel that they were persons of some position and that it was going direct from the railroad to the steamer,

after their tour of America. They had, as a matter of fact, done nothing to excite suspicion until the general

The house man of the St. Cenis welcomed us cordially upon McBride's introduction and agreed to take us up

to the rooms of the strange couple if they were not in. As it happened it was the lunch hour and they were not

in the room. Still, Kennedy dared not be too particular in his search of their effects, for he did not wish to

"It seems to me, Craig," I suggested after we had nosed about for a few minutes, finding nothing, "that this is

preeminently a case in which to use the dictograph as you did in that Black Hand case."

He shook his head doubtfully, although I could see that the idea appealed to him. "The dictograph has been

getting too much publicity lately," he said. "I'm afraid they would discover it, that is, if they are at all the

clever people I think them. Besides, I would have to send up to the laboratory to get one and by the time the

messenger returned they might be back from lunch. No, we've got to do something else, and do it quickly."

He was looking about the room in an apparently aimless manner. On the side wall hung a cheap etching of a

woodland scene. Kennedy seemed engrossed in it while the rest of us fidgeted at the delay.

"Can you get me a couple of old telephone instruments?" he asked at length, turning to us and addressing the

The detective nodded and disappeared down the hall. A few minutes later he deposited the instruments on a

table. Where he got them I do not know, but I suspect he simply lifted them from vacant rooms.

"Now some Number 30 copper wire and a couple of dry cells," ordered Kennedy, falling to work

immediately on the telephones. The detective despatched a bellboy down to the basement to get the wire from

Kennedy removed the transmitters of the telephones, and taking the carbon capsules from them placed the

capsules on the table carefully. Then he lifted down the etching from the wall and laid it flat on its face before

Pressing the transmitter fronts with the carbon capsules against the paper and the glass on the picture he

mounted them so that the paper and glass acted as a large diaphragm to collect all the sounds in the room.

"The size of this glass diaphragm," he explained as we gathered around in intense interest at what he was

doing, "will produce a strikingly sensitive microphone action and the merest whisper will be reproduced with

The boy brought the wire up and also the news that the couple in whose room we were had very nearly

Kennedy took the tiny wires, and after connecting them hung up the picture again and ran them up alongside

the picture wires leading from the huge transmitter up to the picture moulding. Along the top of the moulding

and out through the transom it was easy enough to run the wires and so down the hall to a vacant room, where

Then we sat down in this room to await developments from our hastily improvised picture frame microphone

At last we could hear the elevator door close on our floor. A moment later it was evident from the expression

of Kennedy's face that some one had entered the room which we had just left. He had finished not a moment

"It's a good thing that I didn't wait to put a dictograph there," he remarked to us. "I thought I wasn't reckoning

without reason. The couple, whoever they are, are talking in undertones and looking about the room to see if

Kennedy alone, of course, could follow over his end of the telephone what they said. The rest of us could do

nothing but wait, but from notes which Craig jotted down as he listened to the conversation I shall reproduce

it as if we had all heard it. There were some anxious moments until at last they had satisfied themselves that

no one was listening and that no dictograph or other mechanical eavesdropper, such as they had heard of, was

"Louise, I've been thinking for a long time that we are surrounded by spies in these hotels. You remember I

told you what happened at the Vanderveer the night you and Madame arrived? I'm sure that waiter overheard

"Well, we are safe now anyhow. What was it that you would not tell me just now at luncheon?" asked the

"It says," repeated the man slowly, "that Miss Lovelace has gone to Washington. She insists on knowing

whether the death of Marie was a suicide or not. Worse than that the Secret Service must have wind of some

part of our scheme, for they are acting suspiciously. I must go down there or the whole affair may be exposed

and fall through. Things could hardly be worse, especially this sudden move on her part."

"Who was that detective who forced his way to see her the night they discovered Marie's body?" asked the

woman. "I hope that that wasn't the Secret Service also. Do you think they could have suspected anything?"

"I hardly think so," the man replied. "Beyond the death of Madame they suspect nothing here in New York, I

am convinced. You are sure that all her letters were secured, that all clues to connect her with the business in

hand were destroyed, and particularly that the package she was to deliver is safe?"

"The package? You mean the plans for the coaling station on the Pacific near the Canal? You see, Henri, I

"Ha, ha, yes," replied the man. "Louise, shall I tell you a secret? Can you keep it?"

"Well, Louise, the scheme is deeper than even you think. We are playing one country against another,

America against you know the government our friend Schmidt works for in Paris. Now, listen. Those plans

of the coaling station are a fake a fake. It is just a commercial venture. No nation would be foolish enough

to attempt such a thing, yet. We know that they are a fake. But we are going to sell them through that friend

of ours in the United States War Department. But that is only part of the coup, the part that will give us the

money to turn the much larger coups we have in the future. You can understand why it has all to be done so

secretly and how vexatious it is that as soon as one obstacle is overcome a dozen new ones appear. Louise,

here is the big secret. By using those fake plans as a bait we are going to obtain something which when we all

return to Paris we can convert into thousands of francs. There, I can say no more. But I have told you so

"Very little I hope. That is why I must go to Washington myself. She must know nothing of this coup nor

of the real de Nevers, or the whole scheme may fall through. It would have fallen through before, Louise, if

you had failed us and had let any of de Nevers's letters slip through to Miss Lovelace. She richly deserved her

fate for that act of treachery. The affair would have been so simple, otherwise. Luck was with us until her

insane jealousy led her to visit Miss Lovelace. It was fortunate the young lady was out when Madame called

on her or all would have been lost. Ah, we owe you a great deal, Louise, and we shall not forget it, never.

"Tomorrow morning at the latest. This afternoon the false coaling station plans are to be turned over to our

accomplice in the War Department and in exchange he is to give us something else the secret of which I

spoke. You see the trail leads up into high circles. It is very much more important than you suppose and

"Then you are to meet your friend in Washington tonight? When do you start, Henri? Don't let the time slip

by. There must be no mistake this time as there was when we were working for Japan and almost had the blue

"Trust me. We are to meet about nine o'clock and therefore I leave on the limited at threethirty, in about an

hour. From the station I am going straight to the house on Z Street let me see, the cipher says the number is

101 and ask for a man named Gonzales. I shall use the name Montez. He is to appear, hand over the

package that thing I have told you about then I am to return here by one of the midnight trains. At any cost

we must allow nothing to happen which will reach the ears of Miss Lovelace. I'll see you early tomorrow

morning, ma cherie, and remember, be ready, for the Aquitania sails at ten. The division of the money is to be

Kennedy was telephoning frantically through the regular hotel service to find out how the trains ran for

Washington. The only one that would get there before nine was the threethirty; the next, leaving an hour

later, did not arrive until nearly eleven. He had evidently had some idea of causing some delay that would

result in our friend down the hall missing the limited, but abandoned it. Any such scheme would simply result

in a message to the gang in Washington putting them on their guard and defeating his purpose.

"At all costs we must beat this fellow to it," exclaimed Craig, waiting to hear no more over his improvised

dictograph. "Come, Walter, we must catch the limited for Washington immediately. McBride, I leave you and

the regular house man to shadow this woman. Don't let her get out of your sight for a moment."

As we rode across the city to the new railroad terminus Craig hastily informed me of what he had overheard.

We took up our post so that we could see the outgoing travellers, and a few minutes later Craig spotted our

man from McBride's description, and succeeded in securing chairs in the same car in which he was to ride.

Taken altogether it was an uneventful journey. For five mortal hours we sat in the Pullman or toyed with food

in the diningcar, never letting the man escape our sight, yet never letting him know that we were watching

him. Nevertheless I could not help asking myself what good it did. Why did not Kennedy hire a special if the

affair was so important as it appeared? How were we to get ahead of him in Washington better than in New

York? I knew that some plan lurked behind the calm and inscrutable face of Kennedy as I tried to read and

The train had come to a stop in the Union Station. Our man was walking rapidly up the platform in the

direction of the cab stand. Suddenly Kennedy darted ahead and for a moment we were walking abreast of

"I beg your pardon," began Craig as we came to a turn in the shadow of the arc lights, "but have you a

The man halted and fumbled for his matchbox. Instantly Kennedy's pocket handkerchief was at his nose.

"Some of the medicine of your own gang of endormeurs," ground out Kennedy, crushing several of the little

The man reeled and would have fallen if we had not caught him between us. Up the platform we led him in a

"Here," shouted Craig to a cabman, "my friend is ill. Drive us around a bit. It will sober him up. Come on,

Those who were in Washington during that summer will remember the suppressed activity in the State, War,

and Navy Departments on a certain very humid night. Nothing leaked out at the time as to the cause, but it

was understood later that a crisis was narrowly averted at a very inopportune season, for the heads of the

departments were all away, the President was at his summer home in the North, and even some of the

undersecretaries were out of town. Hasty messages had been sizzling over the wires in cipher and code for

I recall that as we rode a little out of our way past the Army Building, merely to see if there was any

excitement, we found it a blaze of lights. Something was plainly afoot even at this usually dull period of the

year. There=20was treachery of some kind and some trusted employee was involved, I felt instinctively. As

for Craig he merely glanced at the insensible figure between us and remarked sententiously that to his

knowledge there was only one nation that made a practice of carrying out its diplomatic and other coups in

the hot weather, a remark which I understood to mean that our mission was more than commonly important.

The man had not recovered when we arrived within several blocks of our destination, nor did he show signs

of recovery from his profound stupor. Kennedy stopped the cab in a side street, pressed a bill into the

We had turned the corner of Z Street and were approaching the house when a man walking in the opposite

If a fourteeninch gun had exploded behind us I could not have been more startled. Here, in spite of all our

Craig wheeled about suddenly. Then he took the man by the arm. "Come," he said quickly, and we three dove

As we paused, Kennedy was the first to speak. "By Jove, Walter, it's Burke of the Secret Service," he

"Good," repeated the man with some satisfaction. "I see that you still have that memory for faces." He was

evidently referring to our experiences together some months before with the portrait parle and identification

For a moment or two Burke and Kennedy spoke in whispers. Under the dim light from the street I could see

"No wonder the War Department is a blaze of lights," he exclaimed as we moved out of the shadow again,

leaving the Secret Service man. "Burke, I had no idea when I took up this case that I should be doing my

country a service also. We must succeed at any hazard. The moment you hear a pistol shot, Burke, we shall

need you. Force the door if it is not already open. You were right as to the street but not the number. It is that

We mounted the low steps of the house and a negress answered the bell. "Is Mr. Gonzales in?" asked

The hallway into which we were admitted was dark but it opened into a sittingroom, where a dim light was

burning behind the thick portieres. Without a word the negress ushered us into this room, which was

The negress disappeared upstairs, and in a few minutes returned with the message that he would be down

No sooner had the shuffle of her footsteps died away than Kennedy was on his feet, listening intently at the

door. There was no sound. He took a chair and tiptoed out into the dark hall with it. Turning it upside down

he placed it at the foot of the stairs with the four legs pointing obliquely up. Then he drew me into a corner

How long we waited I cannot say. The next I knew was a muffled step on the landing above, then the tread on

A crash and a deep volley of oaths in French followed as the man pitched headlong over the chair on the dark

Kennedy whipped out his revolver and fired pointblank at the prostrate figure. I do not know what the ethics

Craig grasped my arm and pulled me toward the door. A sickening odour seemed to pervade the air. Upstairs

"Closer, Walter," he muttered, "closer to the door, and open it a little, or we shall both be suffocated. It was

the Secret Service gun I shot off the pistol that shoots stupefying gas from its vapourfilled cartridges and

enables you to put a criminal out of commission without killing him. A pull of the trigger, the cap explodes,

the gunpowder and the force of the explosion unite some capsicum and lycopodium, producing the blinding,

suffocating vapour whose terrible effect you see. Here, you upstairs," he shouted, "advance an inch or so

much as show your heads over the rail and I pump a shot at you, too. Walter, take the gun yourself. Fire at a

move from them. I think the gases have cleared away enough now. I must get him before he recovers

A tap at the door came, and without taking my eyes off the stairs I opened it. Burke slid in and gulped at the

I motioned in the darkness. Kennedy's electric bull'seye flashed up at that instant and we saw him deftly slip

a bright pair of manacles on the wrists of the man on the floor, who was breathing heavily, while blood

Dexterously as a pickpocket Craig reached into the man's coat, pulled out a packet of papers, and gazed

eagerly at one after another. From among them he unfolded one written in French to Madame Marie de

DEAR MARIE: Herr Schmidt informs me that his agent in the War Department at Washington, U.S.A., has

secured some important information which will interest the Government for which Herr Schmidt is the agent

It is necessary that you should carry the packet which will be handed to you (if you agree to my proposal) to

New York by the steamer Tripolitania. Go to the Vandeveer Hotel and in a few days, as soon as a certain

exchange can be made, either our friend in Washington or myself will call on you, using the name Gonzales.

In return for the package which you carry he will hand you another. Lose no time in bringing the second

I have arranged that you will receive ten thousand francs and your expenses for your services in this matter.

Under no conditions betray your connection with Herr Schmidt. I was to have carried the packet to America

myself and make the exchange but knowing your need of money I have secured the work for you. You had

better take your maid, as it is much better to travel with distinction in this case. If, however, you accept this

commission I shall consider you in honour bound to surrender your claim upon my name for which I agree to

pay you fifty thousand francs upon my marriage with the American heiress of whom you know. Please let me

know immediately through our mutual friend Henri Duval whether this proposal is satisfactory. Henri will

"The scoundrel," ground out Kennedy. "He lured his wife from Paris to New York, thinking the Paris police

too acute for him, I suppose. Then by means of the treachery of the maid Louise and his friend Duval, a crook

who would even descend to play the part of valet for him and fall in love with the maid, he has succeeded in

"Marie," rambled Chateaurouge as he came blinking, sneezing, and choking out of his stupor, "Marie, you are

clever, but not too clever for me. This blackmailing must stop. Miss Lovelace knows something, thanks to

you, but she shall never know all never =20 never. You you ugh! Stop. Do you think you can hold

me back now with those little white hands on my wrists? I wrench them loose so and ugh! What's

The man gazed dazedly at the manacles that held his wrists instead of the delicate hands he had been

dreaming of as he lived over the terrible scene of his struggle with the woman who was his wife in the

"Chateaurouge," almost hissed Kennedy in his righteous wrath, "fake nobleman, real swindler of five

continents. Marie de Nevers alive stood in the way of your marriage to the heiress Miss Lovelace. Dead, she

Craig continued to turn over the papers in his hand, as he spoke. At last he came to a smaller packet in oiled

silk. As he broke the seal he glanced at it in surprise, then hurriedly exclaimed, "There, Burke. Take these to

the War Department and tell them they can turn out their lights and stop their telegrams. This seems to be a

copy of our government's plans for the fortification of the Panama Canal, heights of guns, location of

searchlights, fire control stations, everything from painstaking search of official and confidential records.

That is what this fellow obtained in exchange for his false blue prints of the supposed coaling station on the

"I leave the Secret Service to find the leak in the War Department. What I am interested in is not the man

who played spy for two nations and betrayed one of them. To me this adventurer who calls himself

It was a rather sultry afternoon in the late summer when people who had calculated by the calendar rather

than by the weather were returning to the city from the seashore, the mountains, and abroad.

Except for the weekends, Kennedy and I had been pretty busy, though on this particular day there was a lull

in the succession of cases which had demanded our urgent attention during the summer.

We had met at the Public Library, where Craig was doing some special research at odd moments in

criminology. Fifth Avenue was still half deserted, though the few pedestrians who had returned or remained

in town like ourselves were, as usual, to be found mostly on the west side of the street. Nearly everybody, I

As we stood on the corner waiting for the traffic man's whistle to halt the crush of automobiles, a man on the

I looked up and caught a glimpse of Jack Herndon, an old college mate, who had had some political

aspirations and had recently been appointed to a position in the customs house of New York. Herndon, I may

add, represented the younger and cleancut generation which is entering official life with great advantage to

The 'bus pulled up to the curb, and Jack tore down the breakneck steps hurriedly.

"I was just thinking of you, Craig," he beamed as we all shook hands, "and wondering whether you and

"Why, what's the matter more, sugar frauds?" laughed Kennedy. "Or perhaps you have caught another art

"No, not exactly," replied Herndon, growing graver for the moment. "We're having a big shakeup down at

the office, none of your 'new broom' business, either. Real reform it is, this time."

"Coming, Craig, coming," answered Jack enthusiastically. "They've put me in charge of a sort of detective

force as a special deputy surveyor to rout out some smuggling that we know is going on. If I make good it

will go a long way for me with all this talk of efficiency and economy down in Washington these days."

"What's on your mind now?" asked Kennedy observantly. "Can I help you in any way?" Herndon had taken

each of us by an arm and walked us over to a stone bench in the shade of the library building.

"You have read the accounts in the afternoon papers of the peculiar death of Mademoiselle Violette, the little

"A good deal, I fear," Herndon continued. "It's part of a case that has been bothering us all summer. It's the

first really big thing I've been up against and it's as ticklish a bit of business as even a veteran treasury agent

Herndon looked thoughtfully at the passing crowd on the other side of the balustrade and continued. "It

started, like many of our cases, with the anonymous letter writer. Early in the summer the letters began to

come in to the deputy surveyor's office, all unsigned, though quite evidently written in a woman's hand,

disguised of course, and on rather dainty notepaper. They warned us of a big plot to smuggle gowns and

jewellery from Paris. Smuggling jewellery is pretty common because jewels take up little space and are very

valuable. Perhaps it doesn't sound to you like a big thing to smuggle dresses, but when you realise that one of

those filmy lacy creations may often be worth several hundred, if not thousand, dollars, and that it needs only

a few of them on each ship that comes in to run up into the thousands, perhaps hundreds of thousands in a

season, you will see how essential it is to break up that sort of thing. We've been getting after the individual

private smugglers pretty sharply this summer and we've had lots of criticism. If we could land a big fellow

and make an objectlesson of the extent of the thing I believe it would leave our critics of the press without a

"At least that was why I was interested in the letters. But it was not until a few days ago that we got a tip that

gave us a real working clue, for the anonymous letters had been very vague as to names, dates, and places,

though bold enough as to general charges, as if the writer were fearful of incriminating herself or himself.

Strange to say, this new clue came from the wife of one of the customs men. She happened to be in a

Broadway manicure shop one day when she heard a woman talking with the manicurist about fall styles, and

she was all attention when she heard the customer say, 'You remember Mademoiselle Violette's that place

that had the exquisite things straight from Paris, and so cheaply, too? Well, Violette says she'll have to raise

her prices so that they will be nearly as high as the regular stores. She says the tariff has gone up, or

"The manicurist laughed knowingly, and the next remark caught the woman's attention. 'No, indeed. But then,

I guess she meant that she had to pay the duty now. You know they are getting much stricter. To tell the truth,

"The manicurist gave a slight shrug of the shoulders and a bright little yes of a laugh.

"That was all. But it was enough. I set a special customs officer to watch Mademoiselle, a clever fellow. He

didn't have time to find out much, but on the other hand I am sure he didn't do anything to alarm

Mademoiselle. That would have been a bad game. His case was progressing favourably and he had become

acquainted with one of the girls who worked in the shop. We might have got some evidence, but suddenly

this morning he walked up to my desk and handed me an early edition of an afternoon paper. Mademoiselle

Violette had been discovered dead in her shop by the girls when they came to work this morning. Apparently

she had been there all night, but the report was quite indefinite and I am on my way up there now to meet the

"You think there is some connection between her death and the letters?" put in Craig.

"Of course I can't say, yet," answered Herndon dubiously. "The papers seem to think it was a suicide. But

then why should she commit suicide? My man found out that among the girls it was common gossip that she

was to marry Jean Pierre, the Fifth Avenue jeweller, of the firm of Lang & Pierre down on the next block.

"Why, if my suspicions are correct, it is this Pierre who is the brains of the whole affair. And here's another

thing. You know we have a sort of secret service in Paris and other European cities which is constantly

keeping an eye on purchases of goods by Americans abroad. Well, the chief of our men in Paris cables me

that Pierre is known to have made extraordinarily heavy purchases of madeup jewellery this season. For one

thing, we believe he has acquired from a syndicate a rather famous diamond necklace which it has taken

years to assemble and match up, worth about three hundred thousand. You know the duty on madeup

jewellery is sixty per cent., and even if he brought the stones in loose it would be ten per cent., which on a

valuation of, say, two hundred thousand, means twenty thousand dollars duty alone. Then he has a splendid

'dog collar' of pearls, and, oh, a lot of other stuff. I know because we get our tips from all sorts of sources and

they are usually pretty straight. Some come from dealers who are sore about not making sales themselves. So

you see there is a good deal at stake in this case and it may be that in following it out we shall kill more than

one bird. I wish you'd come along with me up to Mademoiselle Violette's and give me an opinion."

The establishment of Mademoiselle Violette consisted of a threestory and basement brownstone house in

which the basement and first floor had been remodelled for business purposes. Mademoiselle's place, which

was on the first floor, was announced to the world by a neat little oval gilt sign on the hand railing of the

We ascended and rang the bell. As we waited I noticed that there were several other modistes on the same

street, while almost directly across was a sign which proclaimed that on September 15 Mademoiselle

We entered. The coroner and an undertaker were already there, and the former was expecting Herndon.

Mademoiselle Violette, it seemed, had rented the entire house and then had sublet the basement to a milliner,

using the first floor herself, the second as a workroom for the girls whom she employed, while she lived on

the top floor, which had been fitted for light housekeeping with a kitchenette. It was in the back room of the

shop itself on the first floor that her body had been discovered, lying on a davenport.

"The newspaper reports were very indefinite," began Herndon, endeavouring to take in the situation. "I

suppose they told nearly all the story, but what caused her death? Have you found that out yet? Was it poison

The coroner said nothing, but with a significant glance at Kennedy he drew a peculiar contrivance from his

pocket. It had four round holes in it and through each hole he slipped a finger, then closed his hand, and

exhibited his clenched fist. It looked as if he wore a series of four metal rings on his fingers.

"Brass knuckles?" suggested Herndon, looking hastily at the body, which showed not a sign of violence on

The coroner shook his head knowingly. Suddenly he raised his fist. I saw him press hard with his thumb on

the upper end of the metal contrivance. From the other end, just concealed under his little linger, there shot

out as if released by a magic spring a thin keen little blade of the brightest and toughest steel. He was holding,

instead of a meaningless contrivance of four rings, a most dangerous kind of stiletto or dagger upraised. He

lifted his thumb and the blade sprang back into its sheath like an extinguished spark of light.

"An Apache dagger, such as is used in the underworld of Paris," broke out Kennedy, his eyes gleaming with

The coroner nodded. "We found it," he said, "clasped loosely in her hand. But it is only by expert medical

testimony that we can determine whether it was placed on her fingers before or after this happened. We have

He had now uncovered the slight figure of the little French modiste. On the dress, instead of the profuse flow

of blood which we had expected to see, there was a single round spot. And in the white marble skin of her

"She must have died almost instantly," commented Kennedy, glancing from the Apache weapon to the dead

woman and back again. "Internal hemorrhage. I suppose you have searched her effects. Have you found

"No," replied the coroner doubtfully, "I can't say we have unless it is the bundle of letters from Pierre, the

jeweller. They seem to have been engaged, and yet the letters stopped abruptly, and, well, from the tone of

An exclamation from Herndon followed. "The same notepaper and the same handwriting as the anonymous

But that was all. Go over the ground as Kennedy might he could find nothing further than the coroner and

"About these people, Lang & Pierre," asked Craig thoughtfully when we had left Mademoiselle's and were

riding downtown to the customs house with Herndon. "What do you know about them? I presume that Lang

"Yes, he is here in New York. I believe the firm has a rather unsavoury reputation; they have to be watched, I

am told. Then, too, one or the other of the partners makes frequent trips abroad, mostly Pierre. Pierre, as you

see, was very intimate with Mademoiselle, and the letters simply confirm what the girls told my detective. He

was believed to be engaged to her and I see no reason now to doubt that. The fact is, Kennedy, it wouldn't

surprise me in the least to learn that it was he who engineered the smuggling for her as well as himself."

"That's another curious feature. Lang doesn't seem to bother much with the business. He is a sort of silent

partner, although nominally the head of the firm. Still, they both seem always to be plentifully supplied with

money and to have a good trade. Lang lives most of the time up on the west shore of the Hudson, and seems

to be more interested in his position as commodore of the Riverledge Yacht Club than in his business down

here. He is quite a sport, a great motorboat enthusiast, and has lately taken to hydroplanes."

"I meant," repeated Kennedy, "what about Lang and Mademoiselle Violette. Were they ah friendly?"

"Oh," replied Herndon, seeming to catch the idea. "I see. Of course Pierre abroad and Lang here. I see what

you mean. Why, the girl told my man that Mademoiselle Violette used to go motorboating with Lang, but

only when her fianc=82, Pierre, was along. No, I don't think she ever had anything to do with Lang, if that's

what you are driving at. He may have paid attentions to her, but Pierre was her lover, and I haven't a doubt

but that if Lang made any advances she repelled them. She seems to have thought everything of Pierre."

We had reached Herndon's office by this time. Leaving word with his stenographer to get the very latest

Dressmakers, milliners, and jewellers are our worst offenders now," he remarked as we stood gazing out of

the window at the panorama of the bay off the seawall of the Battery. "Why, time and again we unearth

what looks for all the world like a 'dressmakers' syndicate,' though this case is the first I've had that involved

a death. Really, I've come to look on smuggling as one of the fine arts among crimes. Once the smuggler, like

the pirate and the highwayman, was a sort of gentlemanrogue. But now it has become a very ladylike art.

The extent of it is almost beyond belief, too. It begins with the steerage and runs right up to the absolute

unblushing cynicism of the first cabin. I suppose you know that women, particularly a certain brand of

society women, are the worst and most persistent offenders. Why, they even boast of it. Smuggling isn't

merely popular, it's aristocratic. But we're going to take some of the flavour out of it before we finish."

He tore open a cable message which a boy had brought in. "Now, take this, for instance," he continued. "You

remember the sign across the street from Mademoiselle Violette's, announcing that a Mademoiselle Gabrielle

was going to open a salon or whatever they call it? Well, here's another cable from our Paris Secret Service

with a belated tip. They tell us to look out for a Mademoiselle Gabrielle on La Montaigne, too. That's another

interesting thing. You know the various lines are all ranked, at least in our estimation, according to the

likelihood of such offences being perpetrated by their passengers. We watch ships from London, Liverpool,

and Paris most carefully. Scandinavian ships are the least likely to need watching. Well, Miss Roberts?"

"We have just had a wireless about La Montaigne," reported his stenographer, who had entered while he was

speaking, " and she is three hundred miles east of Sandy Hook. She won't dock until tomorrow."

"Thank you. Well, fellows, it is getting late and that means nothing more doing tonight. Can you be here

early in the morning? We'll go down the bay and 'bring in the ship,' as our men call it when the deputy

surveyor and his acting deputies go down to meet it at Quarantine. I can't tell you how much I appreciate your

kindness in helping me. If my men get anything connecting Lang with Mademoiselle Violette's case I'll let

It was a bright clear snappy morning, in contrast with the heat of the day before, when we boarded the

revenue tug at the Barge Office. The waters of the harbour never looked more blue as they danced in the early

sunlight, flecked here and there by a foaming whitecap as the conflicting tides eddied about. The shores of

Staten Island were almost as green as in the spring, and even the haze over the Brooklyn factories had lifted.

It looked almost like a stage scene, clear and sharp, new and brightly coloured.

Perhaps the least known and certainly one of the least recognised of the government services is that which

includes the vigilant ships of the revenue service. It was not a revenue cutter, however, on which we were

ploughing down the bay. The cutter lay, white and gleaming in the morning sun, at anchor off Stapleton, like

a miniature warship, saluting as we passed. The revenue boats which steam down to Quarantine and make

Down the bay we puffed and buffeted for about forty minutes before we arrived at the little speck of an island

that is Quarantine. Long before we were there we sighted the great La Montaigne near the group of buildings

on the island, where she had been waiting since early morning for the tide and the customs officials. The tug

steamed alongside, and quickly up the high ladders swarmed the boarding officer and the deputy collectors.

We followed Herndon straight to the main saloon, where the collectors began to receive the declarations

which had been made out on blanks furnished to the passengers on the voyage over. They had had several

Glancing at each hastily the collector detached from it the slip with the number at the bottom and handed the

number back, to be presented at the inspector's desk at the pier, where customs inspectors were assigned in

"Number 140 is the one we want to watch," I heard Herndon whisper to Kennedy. "That tall dark fellow over

I followed his direction cautiously and saw a sparely built, striking looking man who had just filed his

declaration and was chatting vivaciously with a lady who was just about to file hers. She was a clinging

"No, you don't have to swear to it," he said. "You used to do that, but now you simply sign your name and

"Number 156," Herndon noted as the collector detached the stub and handed it to her. "That was

"In the old days, before they got to be so beastly particular," I heard him say, "I always used to get the

The ship was now under way, her flags snapping in the brisk coolish breeze that told of approaching autumn.

We had passed up the lower bay and the Narrows, and the passengers were crowded forward to catch the first

On up the bay we ploughed, throwing the spray proudly as we went. Herndon employed the time in keeping a

sharp watch on the tall, thin man. Incidentally he sought out the wireless operator and from him learned that a

code wireless message had been received for Pierre, apparently from his partner, Lang.

"There is no mention of anything dutiable in this declaration by 140 which corresponds with any of the goods

mentioned in the first cable from Paris," a collector remarked unobtrusively to Herndon, "nor in 156

"I didn't suppose there would be," was his laconic reply. "That's our job to=20find the stuff."

At last La Montaigne was warped into the dock. The piles of firstclass baggage on the ship were raucously

deposited on the wharf and slowly the passengers filed down the plank to meet the line of whitecapped

uniformed inspectors and plainclothes appraisers. The comedy and tragedy of the customs inspection had

We were among the first to land. Herndon took up a position from which he could see without being seen. In

the semilight of the little windows in the enclosed sides of the pier, under the steel girders of the arched roof

At last Number 140 came down, alone, to the ropedoff dock. He walked nonchalantly over to the little

deputy surveyor's desk, and an inspector was quickly assigned to him. It was all done neatly in the regular

course of business apparently. He did not know that in the orderly rush the sharpest of Herndon's men had

Already the customs inspection was well along. One inspector had been assigned to about each five

passengers, and big piles of finery were being remorselessly tumbled out in shapeless heaps and exposed to

the gaze of that part of the public which was not too much concerned over the same thing as to its own goods

and chattels. Reticules and purses were being inspected. Every trunk was presumed to have a false bottom,

and things wrapped up in paper were viewed suspiciously and unrolled. Clothes were being shaken and

Herndon now had donned the regulation straw hat of the appraiser, and accompanied by us, posing as

visitors, was sauntering about. At last we came within earshot of the spot where the inspector was going

Out of the corner of my eyes I could see that a dispute was in progress over some trifling matter. The man

was cool and calm. "Call the appraiser, he said at last, with the air of a man standing on his rights. "I object to

this frisking of passengers. Uncle Sam is little better than a pickpocket. Besides, I cans I wait here all day.

Herndon immediately took notice. But it was quite evidently, after all, only an altercation for the benefit of

those who were watching. I am sure he knew he was being watched, but as the dispute proceeded he assumed

the look of a man keenly amused. The matter, involving only a few dollars, was finally adjusted by his

yielding gracefully and with an air of resignation. Still Herndon did not go and I am sure it annoyed him.

Suddenly he turned and faced Herndon. I could not help thinking, in spite of all that he must be so expert,

that, if he really were a smuggler, he had all the poise and skill at evasion that would entitle him to be called a

"You see that woman over there? "he whispered. "She says she is just coming home after studying music in

"She has dutiable goods, all right. I saw her declaration. She is trying to bring in as personal effects of a

foreign resident gowns which, I believe, she intends to wear on the stage. She's an actress."

There was nothing for Herndon to do but to act on the tip. The man had got rid of us temporarily, but we

knew the inspector would be, if anything, more vigilant. I think he took even longer than usual.

Mademoiselle Gabrielle and her maid pouted and fussed over the renewed examination which Herndon

ordered. According to the inspector everything was new and expensive; according to her, old, shabby, and

cheap. She denied everything, raged and threatened. But when, instead of ordering the stamp "Passed" to be

placed on her half dozen trunks and bags which contained in reality only a few dutiable articles, Herndon

threatened to order them to the appraiser's stores and herself to go to the Law Division if she did not admit

"Generally, madame," he remonstrated, though I could see he was baffled at finding nothing of the goods he

had really expected to find, "generally even for a first offence the goods are confiscated and the court or

district attorney is content to let the person off with a fine. If this happens again we'll be more severe. So you

If he had been expecting to "throw a scare "into her, it did not succeed. "Well, I suppose if I must, I must,"

she said, and the only result of the diversion was that she paid a few dollars more than had been expected and

Herndon had disappeared for a moment, after a whisper from Kennedy, to instruct two of his men to shadow

Mademoiselle Gabrielle and, later, Pierre. He soon rejoined us and we casually returned to the vicinity of our

tall friend, Number 140, for whom I felt even less respect than ever after his apparently ungallant action

toward the lady he had been talking with. He seemed to notice my attitude and he remarked defensively for

His inspector by this time had finished a most minute examination. There was nothing that could be

discovered, not a false book with a secret spring that might disclose instead of reading matter a heap of

almost priceless jewels, not a suspicious bulging of any garment or of the lining of a trunk or grip. Some of

the goods might have been on his person, but not much, and certainly there was no excuse for ordering a

personal examination, for he could not have hidden a tenth part of what we knew he had, even under the

proverbial porous plaster. He was impeccable. Accordingly there was nothing for the inspector to do but to

"So you didn't find 'Mona Lisa' in a false bottom, and my trunks were not lined with smuggled cigars after

all," he rasped savagely as the stamp "Passed" was at last affixed and he paid in cash at the little window with

its sign, "Pay Duty Here: U.S. Custom House," some hundred dollars instead of the thousands Herndon had

All through the inspection, an extra close scrutiny had been kept on the other passengers as well, to prevent

any of them from being in league with the smugglers, though there was no direct or indirect evidence to show

We were about to leave the wharf, also, when Craig's attention was called to a stack of trunks still remaining.

"Some of them belong to a Mr. Pierre and the rest to a Miss Gabrielle," answered an inspector. "Bonded for

Here, perhaps, at last was an explanation, and Craig took advantage of it. Could it be that the real seat of

trouble was not here but at some other place, that some exchange was to be made en route or perhaps an

Herndon, too, was willing to run a risk. He ordered the trunks opened immediately. But to our

disappointment they were almost empty. There was scarcely a thing of value in them. Most of the contents

consisted of clothes that had plainly been made in America and were being brought back here. It was another

false scent. We had been played with and baffled at every turn. Perhaps this had been the method originally

"With the fall and winter trade just coming on?" Kennedy replied, with an air of finality that set at rest any

doubts about his opinion on that score. "I thought perhaps we had a case of what do you call it, Herndon,

when they leave trunks that are to be secretly removed by dishonest expressmen from the wharf at night?

"Sleepers. Oh, we've broken that up, too. No expressman would dare try it now. I must confess this thing is

Kennedy made no answer. Evidently there was nothing to do but to await developments and see what

Herndon's men reported. We had been beaten at every turn in the game. Herndon seemed to feel that there

was a bitter sting in the defeat, particularly because the smuggler or smugglers had actually been in our grasp

so long to do with as we pleased, and had so cleverly slipped out again, leaving us holding the bag.

Kennedy was especially thoughtful as he told over the facts of the case in his mind. "Of course," he

remarked, " Mademoiselle Gabrielle wasn't an actress. But we can't deny that she had very little that would

"But I thought Pierre was quite intimate with her at first," I ventured. "That was a dirty trick of his."

Craig laughed. "You mean an old one. That was simply a blind, to divert attention from himself. I suspect

It was plainly more perplexing than ever. What had happened? Had Pierre been a prestidigitator and had he

merely said presto when our backs were turned and whisked the goods invisibly into the country? I could find

no explanation for the little drama on the pier. If Herndon's men had any genius in detecting smuggling, their

We did not see Herndon again until after a hasty luncheon. He was in his office and inclined to take a

pessimistic view of the whole affair. He brightened up when a telephone message came in from one of his

shadows. The men trailing Pierre and Mademoiselle Gabrielle had crossed trails and run together at a little

French restaurant on the lower West Side, where Pierre, Lang, and Mademoiselle Gabrielle had met and were

dining in a most friendly spirit. Kennedy was right. She had been merely a cog in the machinery of the plot.

The man reported that even when a newsboy had been sent in by him with the afternoon papers displaying in

big headlines the mystery of the death of Mademoiselle Violette, they had paid no attention. It seemed

evident that whatever the fate of the little modiste, Mademoiselle Gabrielle had quite replaced her in the

affections of Pierre. There was nothing for us to do but to separate and await developments.

It was late in the afternoon when Craig and I received a hurried message from Herndon. One of his men had

just called him up over long distance from Riverledge. The party had left the restaurant hurriedly, and though

they had taken the only taxicab in sight he had been able to follow them in time to find out that they were

going up to Riverledge. They were now preparing to go out for a sail in one of Lang's motorboats and he

For the remainder of the afternoon Kennedy remained pondering the case. At last an idea seemed to dawn on

him. He found Herndon still at his office and made an appointment to meet on the waterfront near La

Montaigne's pier, after dinner. The change in Kennedy's spirits was obvious, though it did not in the least

enlighten my curiosity. Even after a dinner which was lengthened out considerably, I thought, I did not get

appreciably nearer a solution, for we strolled over to the laboratory, where Craig loaded me down with a huge

We arrived on the corner opposite the wharf just as it was growing dusk. The neighbourhood did not appeal

to me at night, and even though there were two of us I was rather glad when we met Herndon, who was

But instead of proceeding across to the pier by the side of which La Montaigne was moored, we cut across

the wide street and turned down the next pier, where a couple of freighters were lying. The odour of salt

water, sewage, rotting wood, and the night air was not inspiring. Nevertheless I was now carried away with

Halfway down the pier Kennedy paused before one of the gangways that was shrouded in darkness. The door

was opened and we followed gingerly across the dirty deck of the freight ship. Below we could hear the water

lapping the piles of the pier. Across a dark abyss lay the grim monster La Montaigne with here and there a

"What a fine place for a murder," laughed Kennedy coolly. He was unwrapping the package which he had

taken from me. It proved to be a huge reflector in front of which was placed a little arrangement which, under

the light of a shaded lantern carried by Herndon, looked like a coil of wire of some kind.

To the back of the reflector Craig attached two other flexible wires which led to a couple of dry cells and a

cylinder with a broadened end, made of vulcanised rubber. It might have been a telephone receiver, for all I

While I was still speculating on the possible use of the enormous parabolic reflector, a slight commotion on

the opposite side of the pier distracted my attention. A ship was coming in and was being carefully and

quietly berthed alongside the other big iron freighter on that side. Herndon had left us.

"The Mohican is here," he remarked as he rejoined us. To my look of inquiry he added, "The revenue cutter."

Kennedy had now finished and had pointed the reflector full at La Montaigne. With a whispered hasty word

of caution and advice to Herndon, he drew me along with him down the wharf again.

At the little door which was cut in the barrier guarding the shore end of La Montaigne's wharf Kennedy

stopped. The customs service night watchman there is always a watchman of some kind aboard every ship,

passenger or freighter, all the time she is in port seemed to understand, for he admitted us after a word with

Threading our way carefully among the boxes, and bales, and crates which were piled high, we proceeded

down the wharf. Under the electric lights the longshoremen were working feverishly, for the unloading and

loading of a giant transAtlantic vessel in the rush season is a long and tedious process at best, requiring night

Once within the door, however, no one paid much attention to us. They seemed to take it for granted that we

had some right there. We boarded the ship by one of the many entrances and then proceeded down to a deck

where apparently no one was working. It was more like a great house than a ship, I felt, and I wondered

whether Kennedy's search was not more of a hunt for a needle in a haystack than anything else. Yet he

We had descended to what I imagined must be the quarters of the steward. About us were many large cases

and chests, stacked up and marked as belonging to the ship. Kennedy's attention was attracted to them

immediately. All at once it flashed on me what his purpose was. In some of those cases were the smuggled

Before I could say a word and before Kennedy had a chance even to try to verify his suspicions, a sudden

approach of footsteps startled us. He drew me into a cabin or room full of shelves with ship's stores.

"Why didn't you bring Herndon over and break into the boxes, if you think the stuff is hidden in one of

"And let those higher up escape while their tools take all the blame?" he answered. "Shh."

The men who had come into the compartment looked about as if expecting to see some one.

>From the noise I inferred that there must be four or five men, and from the ease with which they shifted the

The door to our hidingplace was opened roughly and then banged shut before we realised it. With a taunting

laugh, some one turned a key in the lock and before we could move a quick shift of packing cases against the

Here we were marooned, shanghaied, as it were, within sight if not call of Herndon and our friends. We had

run up against professional smugglers, of whom I had vaguely read, disguised as stewards, deckhands,

The only other opening to the cabin was a sort of porthole, more for ventilation than anything else. Kennedy

stuck his head through it, but it was impossible for a man to squeeze out. There was one of the lower decks

directly before us while a bright arc light gleamed tantalisingly over it, throwing a round circle of light into

Kennedy remained silent, and I did not know what was working in his mind. Together we made out the

outline of the freighter at the next wharf and speculated as to the location where we had left Herndon with the

huge reflector. There was no moon and it was as black as ink in that direction, but if we could have got out I

Below us, from the restless water lapping on the sides of the hulk of La Montaigne, we could now hear

muffled sounds. It was a motorboat which had come crawling up the river front, with lights extinguished,

and had pushed a cautious nose into the slip where our ship lay at the quay. None of your romantic

lowlying, rakish craft of the old smuggling yarns was this, ready for deeds of desperation in the dark hours

"Perhaps we'll get out of this finally," I grumbled as I understood now what was afoot, "but not in time to be

A smothered sound as of something going over the vessel's side followed. It was one of the boxes which we

Then came a subdued parley. "We have two customs detectives locked in a cabin here. We can't stay now.

"Can't do it," called up another muffled voice. "Make your things into a little bundle. We'll take that, but

you'll have to get past the nightwatchman yourselves and meet us at Riverledge."

A moment later something else went over the side, and from the sound we could infer that the engine of the

A Voice sounded mockingly outside our door. "Bon soir, you fellows in there. We're going up the dock.

Below I could hear just the faintest wellmuffled chugchug. Kennedy in the meantime had been coolly

craning his neck out of our porthole under the rays of the arc light overhead. He was holding something in his

hand. It seemed like a little silverbacked piece of thin glass with a flaring funnellike thing back of it, which

he held most particularly. Though he heard the parting taunt outside he paid no attention.

"You go to the deuce, whoever you are," I cried, beating on the door, to which only a coarse laugh echoed

"Be quiet, Walter," ordered Kennedy. "We have located the smuggled goods in the storeroom of the steward,

four wooden cases of them. I think the stuff must have been brought on the ship in the trunks and then

transferred to the cases, perhaps after the code wireless message was received. But we have been

overpowered and locked in a cabin with a port too small to crawl through. The cases have been lowered over

the side of the ship to a motorboat that was waiting below. The lights on the boat are out, but if you hurry

you can get it. The accomplices who locked us in are going to disappear up the wharf. If you could only get

the night watchman quickly enough you could catch them, too, before they reach the street."

I had turned, half expecting to see Kennedy talking to a ship's officer who might have chanced on the deck

outside. There was no one. The only thing of life was the still sputtering arc light. Had the man gone crazy?

"What of it?" I growled. "Don't you suppose I know all that? What's the use of repeating it now? The thing to

do is to get out of this hole. Come, help me at this door. Maybe we can batter it down."

Kennedy paid no attention to me, however, but kept his eyes glued on the Cimmerian blackness outside the

He had done nothing apparently, yet a long finger of light seemed to shoot out into the sky from the pier

across from us and begin waving back and forth as it was lowered to the dark waters of the river. It was a

searchlight. At once I thought of the huge reflector which I had seen set up. But that had been on our side of

"I knew we should need some means to communicate with Herndon," he explained simply, "and the wireless

telephone wasn't practicable. So I have used Dr. Alexander Graham Bell's photophone. Any of the lights on

this side of La Montaigne, I knew, would serve. What I did, Walter, was merely to talk into the mouthpiece

back of this little silvered mirror which reflects light. The vibrations of the voice caused a diaphragm in it to

vibrate and thus the beam of reflected light was made to pulsate. In other words, this little thing is just a

simple apparatus to transform the air vibrations of the voice into light vibrations.

"The parabolic reflector over there catches these light vibrations and focuses them on the cell of selenium

which you perhaps noticed in the centre of the reflector. You remember doubtless that the element selenium

varies its electrical resistance under light? Thus there are reproduced similar variations in the cell to those

vibrations here in this transmitter. The cell is connected with a telephone receiver and batteries over there and

there you are. It is very simple. In the ordinary carbon telephone transmitter a variable electrical resistance is

produced by pressure, since carbon is not so good a conductor under pressure. Then these variations are

transmitted along two wires. This photophone is wireless. Selenium even emits notes under a vibratory beam

of light, the pitch depending on the frequency. Changes in the intensity of the light focused by the reflector on

the cell alter its electrical resistance and vary the current from the dry batteries. Hence the telephone receiver

over there is affected. Bell used the photophone or radiophone over several hundred feet, Ruhmer over

several miles. When you thought I was talking to myself I was really telling Herndon what had happened and

I could scarcely believe it, but an exclamation from Kennedy as he drew his head in quickly recalled my

attention. "Look out on the river, Walter," he cried. "The Mohican has her searchlight sweeping up and down.

The long finger of light had now come to rest. In its pathway I saw a lightless motorboat bobbing up and

down, crowding on all speed, yet followed relentlessly by the accusing finger. The river front was now alive

Suddenly the Mohican shot out from behind the pier where she had been hidden. In spite of Lang's expertness

it was an unequal race. Nor would it have made much difference if it had been otherwise, for a shot rang out

from the Mohican which commanded instant respect. The powerful revenue cutter rapidly overhauled the

A hurried tread down the passageway followed. Cases were being shoved aside and a key in the door of our

compartment turned quickly. I waited with clenched fists, prepared for an attack.

"You're all right?" Herndon's voice inquired anxiously. "We've got that steward and the other fellows all

We had reached the stern of the ship, and far out in the river the Mohican was now headed toward us. She

came alongside, and Herndon quickly seized a rope, fastened it to the rail, and let himself down to the deck of

"This is a highhanded proceeding," I heard a voice that must have been Lang's protesting. "By what right do

"The Mohican," broke in Herndon, "has the right to appear anywhere from Southshoal Lightship off

Nantucket to the capes of the Delaware, demand an inspection of any vessel's manifest and papers, board

anything from La Montaigne to your little motorboat, inspect it, seize it, if necessary put a crew on it." He

slapped the little cannon. "That commands respect. Besides, you were violating the regulations no lights."

On the deck of the cutter now lay four cases. A man broke one of them open, then another. Inside he

disclosed thousands of dollars' worth of finery, while from a tray he drew several large chamois bags of

"So," exclaimed Kennedy, facing him, "you have your jilted fiancee, Mademoiselle Violette, to thank for this

her letters and her suicide. It wasn't as easy as you thought to throw her over for a new soul mate, this

Mademoiselle Gabrielle whom you were going to set up as a rival in business to Violette. Violette has her

revenge for making a plaything of her heart, and if the dead can take any satisfaction she"

With a quick movement Kennedy anticipated a motion of Pierre's. The ruined smuggler had contemplated

either an attack on himself or his captor, but Craig had seized him by the wrist and ground his knuckles into

the back of Pierre's clenched fist until he winced with pain. An Apache dagger similar to that which the little

modiste had used to end her life tragedy clattered to the deck of the ship, a mute testimonial to the high class

"None of that, Pierre," Craig muttered, releasing him. "You can't cheat the government out of its just dues

Kennedy's client was speaking in a low, full chested, vibrating voice, with some emotion, so low that I had

entered the room without being aware that any one was there until it was too late to retreat.

"As his physician for over twelve years," the man pursued, "I certainly had been led to hope to be

remembered in his will. But, Professor Kennedy, I can't put it too strongly when I say that there is no selfish

Craig had glanced up at me and, as I hesitated, I could see in an instant that the speaker was a practitioner of a

"Dr. Burnham, I should like to have you know Mr. Jameson," introduced Craig. "You can talk as freely

"The doctor has succeeded in interesting me greatly in a case which has some unique features," Kennedy

explained. "It has to do with Stephen Haswell, the eccentric old millionaire of Brooklyn. Have you ever heard

"Yes, indeed," I replied, recalling an occasional article which had appeared in the newspapers regarding a

dusty and dirty old house in that part of the Heights in Brooklyn whence all that is fashionable had not yet

taken flight, a house of mystery, yet not more mysterious than its owner in his secretive comings and goings

in the affairs of men of a generation beyond his time. Further than the facts that he was reputed to be very

wealthy and led, in the heart of a great city, what was as nearly like the life of a hermit as possible, I knew

"About a week ago," repeated the doctor, in answer to a nod of encouragement from Kennedy, "I was

summoned in the middle of the night to attend Mr. Haswell, who, as I have been telling Professor Kennedy,

had been a patient of mine for over twelve years. He had been suddenly stricken with total blindness. Since

then he appears to be failing fast, that is, he appeared so the last time I saw him, a few days ago, after I had

been superseded by a younger man. It is a curious case and I have thought about it a great deal. But I didn't

like to speak to the authorities; there wasn't enough to warrant that, and I should have been laughed out of

court for my pains. The more I have thought about it, however, the more I have felt it my duty to say

something to somebody, and so, having heard of Professor Kennedy, I decided to consult him. The fact of the

matter is, I very much fear that there are circumstances which will bear sharp looking into, perhaps a scheme

The doctor paused, and Craig inclined his head, as much as to signify his appreciation of the delicate position

in which Burnham stood in the case. Before the doctor could proceed further, Kennedy handed me a letter

which had been lying before him on the table. It had evidently been torn into small pieces and then carefully

The superscription gave a small town in Ohio and a date about a fortnight previous.

Dear Father [it read]: I hope you will pardon me for writing,=20 but I cannot let the occasion of your

seventyfifth birthday=20 pass without a word of affection and congratulation. I am alive=20 and well. Time

has dealt leniently with me in that respect, if=20 not in money matters. I do not say this in the hope of

reconciling you to me. I know that is impossible after all these cruel years. But I do wish that I could see you

again. Remember, I am your only child and even if you still think I have been a foolish one, please let me

come to see you once before it is too late. We are constantly travelling from place to place, but shall be here

"Some fourteen or fifteen years ago," explained the doctor as I looked up from reading the note, "Mr.

Haswell's only daughter eloped with an artist named Martin. He had been engaged to paint a portrait of the

late Mrs. Haswell from a photograph. It was the first time that Grace Haswell had ever been able to find

expression for the artistic yearning which had always been repressed by the cold, practical sense of her father.

She remembered her mother perfectly since the sad bereavement of her girlhood and naturally she watched

and helped the artist eagerly. The result was a portrait which might well have been painted from the subject

"Haswell saw the growing intimacy of his daughter and the artist. His bent of mind was solely toward money

and material things, and he at once conceived a bitter and unreasoning hatred for Martin, who, he believed,

had 'schemed' to capture his daughter and an easy living. Art was as foreign to his nature as possible.=20

Nevertheless they went ahead and married, and, well, it resulted in the old man disinheriting the girl. The

young couple disappeared bravely to make their way by their chosen profession and, as far as I know, have

never been heard from since until now. Haswell made a new will, and I have always understood that

practically all of his fortune is to be devoted to founding the technology department in a projected university

"No, never. But in some way she must have learned that I had some influence with her father, for she wrote to

me not long ago, enclosing a note for him and asking me to intercede for her. I did so. I took the letter to him

as diplomatically as I could. The old man flew into a towering rage, refused even to look at the letter, tore it

up into bits, and ordered me never to mention the subject to him again. That is her note, which I saved.

The physician folded up the patched letter carefully before he continued. "Mr. Haswell, as you perhaps know,

has for many years been a prominent figure in various curious speculations, or rather in loaning money to

many curious speculators. It is not necessary to go into the different schemes which he has helped to finance.

Even though most of them have been unknown to the public they have certainly given him such a reputation

"Not long ago Haswell became interested in the work of an obscure chemist over in Brooklyn, Morgan

Prescott. Prescott claims, as I understand, to be able to transmute copper into gold. Whatever you think of it

offhand, you should visit his laboratory yourselves, gentlemen. I am told it is wonderful, though I have never

seen it and can't explain it. I have met Prescott several times while he was trying to persuade Mr. Haswell to

back him in his scheme, but he was never disposed to talk to me, for I had no money to invest. So far as I

know about it the thing sounds scientific and plausible enough. I leave you to judge of that. It is only an

incident in my story and I will pass over it quickly. Prescott, then, believes that the elements are merely

progressive variations of an original substance or base called 'protyle,' from which everything is derived. But

this fellow Prescott goes much further than any of the former theorists. He does not stop with matter. He

believes that he has the secret of life also, that he can make the transition from the inorganic to the organic,

from inert matter to living protoplasm, and thence from living protoplasm to mind and what we call soul,

"And here is where the weird and uncanny part of it comes in," commented Craig, turning from the doctor to

"Having arrived at the point where he asserts that he can create and destroy matter, life, and mind," continued

the doctor, as if himself fascinated by the idea," Prescott very naturally does not have to go far before he also

claims a control over telepathy and even a communication with the dead. He even calls the messages which

he receives by a word which he has coined himself, 'telepagrams.' Thus he says he has unified the physical,

The doctor paused again, then resumed. "One afternoon, about a week ago, apparently, as far as I am able to

piece together the story, Prescott was demonstrating his marvellous discovery of the unity of nature.

"'Shall I tell you a fact, sir, about yourself?' he asked quickly. 'The truth as I see it by means of my wonderful

invention? If it is the truth, will you believe in me? Will you put money into my invention? Will you share in

"Haswell made some noncommittal answer. But Prescott seemed to look into the machine through a very

thick plateglass window, with Haswell placed directly before it. He gave a cry. 'Mr. Haswell,' he exclaimed,

'I regret to tell you what I see. You have disinherited your daughter; she has passed out of your life and at the

"'That's true,' replied the old man bitterly, 'and more than that I don't care. Is that all you see? That's nothing

"'No, unfortunately, that is not all I see. Can you bear something further? I think you ought to know it. I have

"'No, it is not about her. It is about yourself. Tonight at midnight or perhaps a little later,' repeated Prescott

"'Pouf!' exclaimed the old man in a dudgeon, 'if that is all your invention can tell me, goodbye. You told me

you were able to make gold. Instead, you make foolish prophecies. I'll put no money into such tomfoolery.

"Well, that night, about one o'clock, in the silence of the lonely old house, the aged caretaker, Jane, whom he

had hired after he banished his daughter from his life, heard a wild shout of 'Help! Help!' Haswell, alone in

"A groan followed. He had himself found a match, had struck it, had even burnt his fingers with it, yet he saw

"The blow had fallen. At almost the very hour which Prescott, by means of his weird telepagram had

"I went to him immediately when the maid roused me, but there was nothing I could do except prescribe

perfect rest for his eyes and keeping in a dark room in the hope that his sight might be restored as suddenly

"The next morning, with his own hand, trembling and scrawling in his blindness, he wrote the following on a

"'Mrs. GRACE MARTIN. Information wanted about the present whereabouts of Mrs. Grace Martin,

"This advertisement he caused to be placed in all the New York papers and to be wired to the leading

Western papers. Haswell himself was a changed man after his experience. He spoke bitterly of Prescott, yet

his attitude toward his daughter was completely reversed. Whether he admitted to himself a belief in the

prediction of the inventor, I do not know. Certainly he scouted such an idea in telling me about it.

"A day or two after the advertisements appeared a telegram came to the old man from a little town in Indiana.

"The upshot was that Grace Haswell, or rather Grace Martin, appeared the next day, forgave and was

forgiven with much weeping, although the old man still refused resolutely to be reconciled with and receive

her husband. Mrs. Martin started in to clean up the old house. A vacuum cleaner sucked a ton or two of dust

from it. Everything was changed. Jane grumbled a great deal, but there was no doubt a great improvement.

Meals were served regularly. The old man was taken care of as never before. Nothing was too good for him.

Everywhere the touch of a woman was evident in the house. The change was complete. It even extended to

me. Some friend had told her of an eye and ear specialist, a Dr. Scott, who was engaged. Since then, I

understand, a new will has been made, much to the chagrin of the trustees of the projected school. Of course I

am cut out of the new will, and that with the knowledge at least of the woman who once appealed to me, but

"But what has happened since to arouse suspicion?" asked Kennedy, watching the doctor furtively.

"Why, the fact is that, in spite of all this added care, the old man is failing more rapidly than ever. He never

goes out except attended and not much even then. The other day I happened to meet Jane on the street. The

faithful old soul poured forth a long story about his growing dependence on others and ended by mentioning

a curious red discoloration that seems to have broken out over his face and hands. More from the way she

said it than from what she said I gained the impression that something was going on which should be looked

"Then you perhaps think that Prescott and Mrs. Martin are in some way connected in this case?" I hazarded.

I had scarcely framed the question before he replied in an emphatic negative. "On the contrary, it seems to me

that if they know each other at all it is with hostility. With the exception of the first stroke of blindness" here

he lowered his voice earnestly "practically every misfortune that has overtaken Mr. Haswell has been since

the advent of this new Dr. Scott. Mind, I do not wish even to breathe that Mrs. Martin has done anything

except what a daughter should do. I think she has shown herself a model of forgiveness and devotion.

Nevertheless the turn of events under the new treatment has been so strange that almost it makes one believe

"Would it be possible, do you think, for us to see Mr. Haswell?" asked Kennedy, when Dr. Burnham had

come to a full stop after pouring forth his suspicions. "I should like to see this Dr. Scott. But first I should like

The doctor was thoughtful. "You'll have to arrange that yourself," he answered. "Can't you think up a

scheme? For instance, go to him with a proposal like the old schemes he used to finance. He is very much

interested in electrical inventions. He made his money by speculation in telegraphs and telephones in the

early days when they were more or less dreams. I should think a wireless system of television might at least

interest him and furnish an excuse for getting in, although I am told his daughter discourages all tangible

"An excellent idea," exclaimed Kennedy. "It is worth trying anyway. It is still early. Suppose we ride over to

It was still light when we mounted the high steps of the house of mystery across the bridge. Mrs. Martin, who

met us in the parlour, proved to be a stunning looking woman with brown hair and beautiful dark eyes. As far

as we could see the old house plainly showed the change. The furniture and ornaments were of a period long

past, but everything was scrupulously neat. Hanging over the old marble mantel was a painting which quite

evidently was that of the long since deceased Mrs. Haswell, the mother of Grace. In spite of the hideous style

of dress of the period after the war, she had evidently been a very beautiful woman with large masses of light

chestnut hair and blue eyes which the painter had succeeded in catching with almost lifelikeness for a

It took only a few minutes for Kennedy, in his most engaging and plausible manner, to state the hypothetical

reason of our call. Though it was perfectly selfevident from the start that Mrs. Martin would throw cold

water on anything requiring an outlay of money Craig accomplished his full purpose of securing an interview

with Mr. Haswell. The invalid lay propped up in bed, and as we entered he heard us and turned his sightless

Kennedy had hardly begun to repeat and elaborate the story which he had already told regarding his mythical

friend who had at last a commercial wireless "televue," as he called it on the spur of the moment, when Jane,

the aged caretaker, announced Dr. Scott. The new doctor was a youthfully dressed man, cleanshaven, but

with an undefinable air of being much older than his smooth face led one to suppose. As he had a large

practice, he said, he would beg our pardon for interrupting but would not take long.

It needed no great powers of observation to see that the old man placed great reliance on his new doctor and

that the visit partook of a social as well as a professional nature. Although they talked low we could catch

now and then a word or phrase. Dr. Scott bent down and examined the eyes of his patient casually. It was

"Perfect rest for the present," the doctor directed, talking more to Mrs. Martin than to the old man. "Perfect

rest, and then when his health is good, we shall see what can be done with that cataract."

He was about to leave, when the old man reached up and restrained him, taking hold of the doctor's wrist

tightly, as if to pull him nearer in order to whisper to him without being overheard. Kennedy was sitting in a

chair near the head of the bed, some feet away, as the doctor leaned down. Haswell, still holding his wrist,

pulled him closer. I could not hear what was said, though somehow I had an impression that they were talking

about Prescott, for it would not have been at all strange if the old man had been greatly impressed by the

Kennedy, I noticed, had pulled an old envelope from his pocket and was apparently engaged in jotting down

some notes, glancing now and then from his writing to the doctor and then to Mr. Haswell.

The doctor stood erect in a few moments and rubbed his wrist thoughtfully with the other hand, as if it hurt.

At the same time he smiled on Mrs. Martin. "Your father has a good deal of strength yet, Mrs. Martin," he

remarked. "He has a wonderful constitution. I feel sure that we can pull him out of this and that he has many,

Mr. Haswell, who caught the words eagerly, brightened visibly, and the doctor passed out. Kennedy resumed

his description of the supposed wireless picture apparatus which was to revolutionise the newspaper, the

theatre, and daily life in general. The old man did not seem enthusiastic and turned to his daughter with some

"Just at present," commented the daughter, with an air of finality, "the only thing my father is much interested

in is a way in which to recover his sight without an operation. He has just had a rather unpleasant experience

with one inventor. I think it will be some time before he cares to embark in any other such schemes.

Kennedy and I excused ourselves with appropriate remarks of disappointment. From his preoccupied manner

it was impossible for me to guess whether Craig had accomplished his purpose or not.

"Let us drop in on Dr. Burnham since we are over here," he said when we had reached the street. "I have

The former physician of Mr. Haswell lived not very far from the house we had just left. He appeared a little

"Who is this Dr. Scott?" asked Craig when we were seated in the comfortable leather chairs of the

"Really, I know no more about him than you do," replied Burnham. I thought I detected a little of

professional jealousy in his tone, though he went on frankly enough, "I have made inquiries and I can find out

nothing except that he is supposed to be a graduate of some Western medical school and came to this city

only a short time ago. He has hired a small office in a new building devoted entirely to doctors and they tell

me that he is an eye and ear specialist, though I cannot see that he has any practice. Beyond that I know

"Your friend Prescott interests me, too," remarked Kennedy, changing the subject quickly.

"Oh, he is no friend of mine," returned the doctor, fumbling in a drawer of his desk. "But I think I have one of

his cards here which he gave me when we were introduced some time ago at Mr. Haswell's. I should think it

would be worth while to see him. Although he has no use for me because I have neither money nor influence,

still you might take this card. Tell him you are from the university, that I have interested you in him, that you

know a trustee with money to invest anything you like that is plausible. When are you going to see him?"

"The first thing in the morning," replied Kennedy. "After I have seen him I shall drop in for another chat with

Prescott's laboratory, which we found the next day from the address on the card, proved to be situated in one

of the streets near the waterfront under the bridge approach, where the factories and warehouses clustered

thickly. It was with a great deal of anticipation of seeing something happen that we threaded our way through

the maze of streets with the cobweb structure of the bridge carrying its endless succession of cars arching

high over our heads. We had nearly reached the place when Kennedy paused and pulled out two pairs of

"You needn't mind these, Walter," he explained. "They are only plain glass, that is, not ground. You can see

through them as well as through air. We must be careful not to excite suspicion. Perhaps a disguise might

have been better, but I think this will=20do. There they add at least a decade to your age. If you could see

yourself you wouldn't speak to your reflection. You look as scholarly as a Chinese mandarin. Remember, let

We had now entered the shop, stumbled up the dark stairs, and presented Dr. Burnham's card with a word of

explanation along the lines which he had suggested. Prescott, surrounded by his retorts, crucibles, burettes,

and condensers, received us much more graciously than I had had any reason to anticipate. He was a man in

the late forties, his face covered with a thick beard, and his eyes, which seemed a little weak, were helped out

I could not help thinking that we three bespectacled figures lacked only the flowing robes to be taken for a

group of medieval alchemists set down a few centuries out of our time in the murky light of Prescott's

sanctum. Yet, though he accepted us at our face value, and began to talk of his strange discoveries there was

none of the old familiar prating about matrix and flux, elixir, magisterium, magnum opus, the mastery and the

quintessence, those alternate names for the philosopher's stone which Paracelsus, Simon Forman, Jerome

Cardan, and the other medieval worthies indulged in. This experience at least was as uptodate as the

"Transmutation," remarked Prescott, "was, as you know, finally declared to be a scientific absurdity in the

eighteenth century. But I may say that it is no longer so regarded. I do not ask you to believe anything until

you have seen; all I ask is that you maintain the same open mind which the most progressive scientists of

Kennedy had seated himself some distance from a curious piece or rather collection of apparatus over which

"It may seem strange to you, gentlemen," Prescott proceeded, "that a man who is able to produce gold from,

say, copper should be seeking capital from other people. My best answer to that old objection is that I am not

seeking capital, as such. The situation with me is simply this. Twice I have applied to the patent office for a

patent on my invention. They not only refuse to grant it, but they refuse to consider the application or even to

give me a chance to demonstrate my process to them. On the other hand, suppose I try this thing secretly.

How can I prevent any one from learning my trade secret, leaving me, and making gold on his own account?

Men will desert as fast as I educate them. Think of the economic result of that; it would turn the world

topsyturvy. I am looking for some one who can be trusted to the last limit to join with me, furnish the

influence and standing while I furnish the brains and the invention. Either we must get the government

interested and sell the invention to it, or we must get government protection and special legislation. I am not

"You are undoubtedly acquainted with the modern theories of matter," he began, plunging into the

explanation of his process. "Starting with the atom, we believe no longer that it is indivisible. Atoms are

composed of thousands of ions, as they are called, really little electric charges. Again, you know that we

have found that all the elements fall into groups. Each group has certain related atomic weights and properties

which can be and have been predicted in advance of the discovery of missing elements in the group. I started

with the reasonable assumption that the atom of one element in a group could be modified so as to become

the atom of another element in the group, that one group could perhaps be transformed into another, and so

on, if only I knew the force that would change the number or modify the vibrations of these ions composing

"Now for years I have been seeking that force or combination of forces that would enable me to produce this

change in the elements raising or lowering them in the scale, so to speak. I have found it. I am not going to

tell you or any other man whom you may interest the secret of how it is done until I find some one I can trust

as I trust myself. But I am none the less willing that you should see the results. If they are not convincing,

He appeared to be debating whether to explain further, and finally resumed: "Matter thus being in reality a

manifestation of force or ether in motion, it is necessary to change and control that force and motion. This

assemblage of machines here is for that purpose. Now a few words as to my theory."

He took a pencil and struck a sharp blow on the table. "There you have a single blow," he said, "just one

isolated noise. Now if I strike this tuning fork you have a vibrating note. In other words, a succession of

blows or wave vibrations of a certain kind affects the ear and we call it sound, just as a succession of other

wave vibrations affects the retina and we have sight. If a moving picture moves slower than a certain number

of pictures a minute you see the separate pictures; faster it is one moving picture.

"Now as we increase the rapidity of wave vibration and decrease the wave length we pass from sound waves

to heat waves or what are known as the infrared waves, those which lie below the red in the spectrum of

light. Next we come to light, which is composed of the seven colours as you know from seeing them resolved

in a prism. After that are what are known as the ultraviolet rays, which lie beyond the violet of white light.

We also have electric waves, the waves of the alternating current, and shorter still we find the Hertzian

waves, which are used in wireless. We have only begun to know of Xrays and the alpha, beta, and gamma

rays from them, of radium, radioactivity, and finally of this new force which I have discovered and call

"In short, we find in the universe Matter, Force, and Ether. Matter is simply ether in motion, is composed of

corpuscles, electrically charged ions, or electrons, moving units of negative electricity about one

onethousandth part of the hydrogen atom. Matter is made up of electricity and nothing but electricity. Let us

He drew forth a huge chart on which all the eighty or so elements were arranged in eight groups or octaves

and twelve series. Selecting one, he placed his finger on the letters "Au," under which was written the

"That," he explained, "is the scientific name for the element gold and the figure is its atomic weight. You will

see," he added, pointing down the second vertical column on the chart, "that gold belongs to the hydrogen

group hydrogen, lithium, sodium, potassium, copper, rubidium, silver, caesium, then two blank spaces for

elements yet to be discovered to science, then gold, and finally another unknown element."

Running his finger along the eleventh, horizontal series, he continued: "The gold series not the group

reads gold, mercury, thallium, lead, bismuth, and other elements known only to myself. For the known

elements, however, these groups and series are now perfectly recognised by all scientists; they are determined

by the fixed weight of the atom, and there is a close approximation to regularity.

"This twelfth series is interesting. So far only radium, thorium, and uranium are generally known. We know

that the radioactive elements are constantly breaking down, and one often hears uranium, for instance, called

the 'parent' of radium. Radium also gives off an emanation, and among its products is helium, quite another

element. Thus the transmutation of matter is well known within certain bounds to all scientists today like

yourself, Professor Kennedy. It has even been rumoured but never proved that copper has been transformed

into lithium both members of the hydrogengold group, you will observe. Copper to lithium is going

backward, so to speak. It has remained for me to devise this protodyne apparatus by which I can reverse that

process of decay and go forward in the table, so to put it can change lithium into copper and copper into

He had been fingering a switch as he spoke. Now he turned it on triumphantly. A curious snapping and

crackling noise followed, becoming more rapid, and as it mounted in intensity I could smell a pungent odour

of ozone which told of an electric discharge. On went the machine until we could feel heat radiating from it.

Then came a piercing burst of greenishblue light from a long tube which looked like a curious mercury

After a few minutes of this Prescott took a small crucible of black lead. "Now we are ready to try it," he cried

in great excitement. "Here I have a crucible containing some copper. Any substance in the group would do,

even hydrogen if there was any way I could handle the gas. I place it in the machine so. Now if you could

watch inside you would see it change; it is now rubidium, now silver, now caesium. Now it is a hitherto

unknown element which I have named after myself, presium, now a second unknown element, cottium ah!

He drew forth the crucible, and there glowed in it a little bead or globule of molten gold.

"I could have taken lead or mercury and by varying the process done the same thing with the gold series as

well as the gold group," he said, regarding the globule with obvious pride. "And I can put this gold back and

bring it out copper or hydrogen, or better yet, can advance it instead of cause it to decay, and can get a

radioactive element which I have named morganium after my first name, Morgan Prescott. Morganium is a

radioactive element next in the series to radium and much more active. Come closer and examine the gold."

Kennedy shook his head as if perfectly satisfied to accept the result. As for me I knew not what to think. It

was all so plausible and there was the bead of gold, too, that I turned to Craig for enlightenment. Was he

But as I looked I could see that Kennedy had been holding concealed in the palm of his hand a bit of what

might be a mineral. From my position I could see the bit of mineral glowing, but Prescott could not.

"Might I ask," interrupted Kennedy, "what that curious greenish or bluish light from the tube is composed

Prescott eyed him keenly for an instant through his thick glasses. Craig had shifted his gaze from the bit of

mineral in his own hand, but was not looking at the light. He seemed to be indifferently contemplating

"That, sir," replied Prescott slowly, "is an emanation due to this new force, protodyne, which I use. It is a

manifestation of energy, sir, that may run changes not only through the whole gamut of the elements, but is

capable of transforming the ether itself into matter, matter into life, and life into mind. It is the outward sign

"The means by which you secure the curious telepagrams I have heard of?" inquired Kennedy eagerly.

Prescott looked at him sharply, and for a moment I thought his face seemed to change from a livid white to an

apoplectic red, although it may have been only the play of the weird light. When he spoke it was with no

"Yes," he answered calmly. "I see that you have heard something of them. I had a curious case a few days

ago. I had hoped to interest a certain capitalist of high standing in this city. I had showed him just what I have

showed you, and I think he was impressed by it. Then I thought to clinch the matter by a telepagram, but for

some reason or other I failed to consult the forces I control as to the wisdom of doing so. Had I, I should have

known better. But I went ahead in selfconfidence and enthusiasm. I told him of a long banished daughter

with whom, in his heart, he was really wishing to become reconciled but was too proud to say the word. He

resented it. He started to stamp out of this room, but not before I had another telepagram which told of a

misfortune that was soon to overtake the old man himself. If he had given me a chance I might have saved

him, at least have flashed a telepagram to that daughter myself, but he gave me no chance. He was gone.

"I do not know precisely what happened after that, but in some way this man found his daughter, and today

she is living with him. As for my hopes of getting assistance from him, I lost them from the moment when I

made my initial mistake of telling him something distasteful. The daughter hates me and I hate her. I have

learned that she never ceases advising the old man against all schemes for investment except those bearing

moderate interest and readily realised on. Dr. Burnham I see you know him has been superseded by

another doctor, I believe. Well, well, I am through with that incident. I must get assistance from other

sources. The old man, I think, would have tricked me out of the fruits of my discovery anyhow. Perhaps I am

A knock at the door cut him short. Prescott opened it, and a messenger boy stood there. "Is Professor

Craig motioned to the boy, signed for the message, and tore it open. "It is from Dr. Burnham," he exclaimed,

"Mr. Haswell is dead," I read. "Looks to me like asphyxiation by gas or some other poison. Come

"You will pardon me," broke in Craig to Prescott, who was regarding us without the slightest trace of

emotion, "but Mr. Haswell, the old man to whom I know you referred, is dead, and Dr. Burnham wishes to

see me immediately. It was only yesterday that I saw Mr. Haswell and he seemed in pretty good health and

spirits. Prescott, though there was no love lost between you and the old man, I would esteem it a great favour

if you would accompany me to the house. You need not take any responsibility unless you desire."

His words were courteous enough, but Craig spoke in a tone of quiet authority which Prescott found it

impossible to deny. Kennedy had already started to telephone to his own laboratory, describing a certain

suitcase to one of his students and giving his directions. It was only a moment later that we were panting up

the sloping street that led from the river front. In the excitement I scarcely noticed where we were going until

The aged caretaker met us at the door. She was in tears. Upstairs in the front room where we had first met the

old man we found Dr. Burnham working frantically over him. It took only a minute to learn what had

happened. The faithful Jane had noticed an odour of gas in the hall, had traced it to Mr. Haswell's room, had

found him unconscious, and instinctively, forgetting the new Dr. Scott, had rushed forth for Dr. Burnham.

Near the bed stood Grace Martin, pale but anxiously watching the efforts of the doctor to resuscitate the

Dr. Burnham paused in his efforts as we entered. "He is dead, all right," he whispered, aside. "I have tried

There was still a sickening odour of illuminating gas in the room, although the windows were now all open.

Kennedy, with provoking calmness in the excitement, turned from and ignored Dr. Burnham.

"Yes. Send James immediately. Mr. Prescott, will you kindly be seated for a few moments."

Taking off his coat, Kennedy advanced to the bed where the emaciated figure lay, cold and motionless. Craig

knelt down at Mr. Haswell's head and took the inert arms, raising them up until they were extended straight.

Then he brought them down, folded upward at the elbow at the side. Again and again he tried this Sylvester

method of inducing respiration, but with no more result than Dr. Burnham had secured. He turned the body

over on its face and tried the new Schaefer method. There seemed to be not a spark of life left.

"Dr. Scott is out," reported the maid breathlessly, "but they are trying to locate him from his office, and if

A ring at the doorbell caused us to think that he had been found, but it proved to be the student to whom

Kennedy had telephoned at his own laboratory. He was carrying a heavy suitcase and a small tank.

Kennedy opened the suitcase hastily and disclosed a little motor, some long tubes of rubber fitting into a

small rubber cap, forceps, and other paraphernalia. The student quickly attached one tube to the little tank,

while Kennedy grasped the tongue of the dead man with the forceps, pulled it up off the soft palate, and fitted

"This is the Draeger pulmotor," he explained as he worked, "devised to resuscitate persons who have died of

electric shock, but actually found to be of more value in cases of asphyxiation. Start the motor."

The pulmotor began to pump. One could see the dead man's chest rise as it was inflated with oxygen forced

by the accordion bellows from the tank through one of the tubes into the lungs. Then it fell as the oxygen and

the poisonous gas were slowly sucked out through the other tube. Again and again the process was repeated,

Dr. Burnham looked on in undisguised amazement. He had long since given up all hope. The man was dead,

medically dead, as dead as ever was any gas victim at this stage on whom all the usual methods of

Still, minute after minute, Kennedy worked faithfully on, trying to discover some spark of life and to fan it

into flame. At last, after what seemed to be a halfhour of unremitting effort, when the oxygen had long since

been exhausted and only fresh air was being pumped into the lungs and out of them, there was a first faint

glimmer of life in the heart and a touch of colour in the cheeks. Haswell was coming to. Another halfhour

"The letter the letter," he moaned, rolling his glazed eyes about. "Where is the letter? Send for Grace."

The moan was so audible that it was startling. It was like a voice from the grave. What did it all mean? Mrs.

The old man moved restlessly, feverishly, and pressed his trembling hand to his forehead as if trying to

The pulmotor had been stopped. Craig threw the cap to his student to be packed up, and as he did so he

remarked quietly, "I could wish that Dr. Scott had been found. There are some matters here that might

He paused and looked slowly from the rescued man lying dazed on the bed toward Mrs. Martin. It was quite

apparent even to me that she did not share the desire to see Dr. Scott, at least not just then. She was flushed

and trembling with emotion. Crossing the room hurriedly she flung open the door into the hall.

"I am sure," she cried, controlling herself with difficulty and catching at a straw, as it were, "that you

gentlemen, even if you have saved my father, are no friends of either his or mine. You have merely come

here in response to Dr. Burnham, and he came because Jane lost her head in the excitement and forgot that

"But Dr. Scott could not have been found in time, madame," interposed Dr. Burnham with evident triumph.

"Now leave us," she implored, "you, Dr. Burnham, you, Mr. Prescott, you, Professor Kennedy, and your

She was now cold and calm. In the bewildering change of events we had forgotten the wan figure on the bed

still gasping for the breath of life. I could not help wondering at the woman's apparent lack of gratitude, and a

thought flashed over my mind. Had the affair come to a contest between various parties fighting by fair

means or foul for the old man's money Scott and Mrs. Martin perhaps =20 against Prescott and Dr.

Burnham? No one moved. We seemed to be waiting on Kennedy. Prescott and Mrs. Martin were now glaring

The old man moved restlessly on the bed, and over my shoulder I could hear him gasp faintly, "Where's

Mrs. Martin paid no attention, seemed not to hear, but stood facing us imperiously as if waiting for us to obey

her orders and leave the house. Burnham moved toward the door, but Prescott stood his ground with a

peculiar air of defiance. Then he took my arm and started rather precipitately, I thought, to leave.

It was Kennedy, who had been bending down, listening to the muttering of the old man.

"Down in the parlour," continued Kennedy leisurely, "you will find a portrait of the long deceased Mrs.

Haswell. If you will examine that painting you will see that her eyes are also a peculiarly limpid blue. o

couple with blue eyes ever had a blackeyed child. At least, if this is such a case, the Carnegie Institution

investigators would be glad to hear of it, for it is contrary to all that they have discovered on the subject after

years of study of eugenics. Darkeyed couples may have lighteyed children, but the reverse, never. What do

"You lie," screamed the woman, rushing frantically past us. "I am his daughter. No interlopers shall separate

"Send for Dr. Scott again," she demanded. "See if he cannot be found. He must be found. You are all

"Not all," broke in Kennedy remorselessly. "Yes, madame, send for Dr. Scott. Why is he not here?"

Prescott, with one hand on my arm and the other on Dr. Burnham's, was moving toward the door.

"One moment, Prescott," interrupted Kennedy, detaining him with a look. "There was something I was about

to say when Dr. Burnham's urgent message prevented it. I did not take the trouble even to find out how you

obtained that little globule of molten gold from the crucible of alleged copper. There are so many tricks by

which the gold could have been 'salted' and brought forth at the right moment that it was hardly worth while.

Besides, I had satisfied myself that my first suspicions were correct. See that?"

He held out the little piece of mineral I had already seen in his hand in the alchemist's laboratory.

"That is a piece of willemite. It has the property of glowing or fluorescing under a certain kind of rays which

are themselves invisible to the human eye. Prescott, your story of the transmutation of elements is very

clever, but not more clever than your real story. Let us piece it together. I had already heard from Dr.

Burnham how Mr. Haswell was induced by his desire for gain to visit you and how you had most

mysteriously predicted his blindness. Now, there is no such thing as telepathy, at least in this case. How then

was I to explain it? What could cause such a catastrophe naturally? Why, only those rays invisible to the

Kennedy was speaking rapidly and was careful not to pause long enough to give Prescott an opportunity to

"These ultraviolet rays," he continued, "are always present in an electric arc light though not to a great

degree unless the carbons have metal cores. They extend for two octaves above the violet of the spectrum and

are too short to affect the eye as light, although they affect photographic plates. They are the friend of man

when he uses them in moderation as Finsen did in the famous blue light treatment. But they tolerate no

familiarity. To let them =20 particularly the shorter of the rays enter the eye is to invite trouble. There is

no warning sense of discomfort, but from six to eighteen hours after exposure to them the victim experiences

violent pains in the eyes and headache. Sight may be seriously impaired, and it may take years to recover.

Often prolonged exposure results in blindness, though a moderate exposure acts like a tonic. The rays may be

compared in this double effect to drugs, such as strychnine. Too much of them may be destructive even to life

Prescott had now paused and was regarding Kennedy contemptuously. Kennedy paid no attention, but

continued: "Perhaps these mysterious rays may shed some light on our minds, however. Now, for one thing,

ultraviolet light passes readily through quartz, but is cut off by ordinary glass, especially if it is coated with

chromium. Old Mr. Haswell did not wear glasses. Therefore he was subject to the rays the more so as he is a

blond, and I think it has been demonstrated by investigators that blonds are more affected by them than are

"You have, as a part of your machine, a peculiarly shaped quartz mercury vapour lamp, and the mercury

vapour lamp of a design such as that I saw has been invented for the especial purpose of producing

ultraviolet rays in large quantity. There are also in your machine induction coils for the purpose of making

an impressive noise, and a small electric furnace to heat the salted gold. I don't know what other ingenious

fakes you have added. The visible bluish light from the tube is designed, I suppose, to hoodwink the

credulous, but the dangerous thing about it is the invisible ray that accompanies that light. Mr. Haswell sat

under those invisible rays, Prescott, never knowing how deadly they might be to him, an old man.

"You knew that they would not take effect for hours, and hence you ventured the prediction that he would be

stricken at about midnight. Even if it was partial or temporary, still you would be safe in your prophecy. You

succeeded better than you hoped in that part of your scheme. You had already prepared the way by means of

a letter sent to Mr. Haswell through Dr. Burnham. But Mr. Haswell's credulity and fear worked the wrong

way. Instead of appealing to you he hated you. In his predicament he thought only of his banished daughter

and turned instinctively to her for help. That made necessary a quick change of plans."

Prescott, far from losing his nerve, turned on us bitterly. "I knew you two were spies the moment I saw you,"

he shouted. "It seemed as if in some way I knew you for what you were, as if I knew you had seen Mr.

Haswell before you came to me. You, too, would have robbed an inventor as I am sure he would. But have a

care, both of you. You may be punished also by blindness for your duplicity. Who knows?"

A shudder passed over me at the horrible thought contained in his mocking laugh. Were we doomed to

"I knew that you would know us," retorted Kennedy calmly. "Therefore we came provided with spectacles of

Euphos glass, precisely like those you wear. No, Prescott, we are safe, though perhaps we may have some

Prescott had fallen back a step and Mrs. Martin was making an effort to appear stately and end the interview.

"No," continued Craig, suddenly wheeling, and startling us by the abruptness of his next exposure, "it is you

and your wife here Mrs. Prescott, not Mrs. Martin who must have a care. Stop glaring at each other. It is

no use playing at enemies longer and trying to get rid of us. You overdo it. The game is up."

Prescott made a rush at Kennedy, who seized him by the wrist and held him tightly in a grasp of steel that

"This is a deeplaid plot," he went on calmly, still holding Prescott, while I backed up against the door and

cut off his wife; "but it is not so difficult to see it after all. Your part was to destroy the eyesight of the old

man, to make it necessary for him to call on his daughter. Your wife's part was to play the role of Mrs.

Martin, whom he had not seen for years and could not see now. She was to persuade him, with her filial

affection, to make her the beneficiary of his will, to see that his money was kept readily convertible into cash.

"Then, when the old man was at last out of the way, you two could decamp with what you could realise

before the real daughter, cut off somewhere across the continent, could hear of the death of her father. It was

an excellent scheme. But Haswell's plain, material newspaper advertisement was not so effective for your

purposes, Prescott, as the more artistic 'telepagram,' as you call it. Although you two got in first in answering

the advertisement, it finally reached the right person after all. You didn't get away quickly enough.

"You were not expecting that the real daughter would see it and turn up so soon. But she has. She lives in

California. Mr. Haswell in his delirium has just told of receiving a telegram which I suppose you, Mrs.

Prescott, read, destroyed, and acted upon. It hurried your plans, but you were equal to the emergency.

Besides, possession is nine points in the law. You tried the gas, making it look like a suicide. Jane, in her

excitement, spoiled that, and Dr. Burnham, knowing where I was, as it happened, was able to summon me

Craig was slowly twisting up the hand of the inventor, which he still held. With his other hand he pulled a

paper from his pocket. It was the old envelope on which he had written upon the occasion of our first visit to

Mr. Haswell when we had been so unceremoniously interrupted by the visit of Dr. Scott.

"I sat here yesterday by this bed," continued Craig, motioning toward the chair he had occupied, as I

remembered. "Mr. Haswell was telling Dr. Scott something in an undertone. I could not hear it. But the old

man grasped the doctor by the wrist to pull him closer to whisper to him. The doctor's hand was toward me

"You perhaps are not acquainted with the fact, but the markings of the veins in the back of the hand are

peculiar to each individual as infallible, indestructible, and ineffaceable as finger prints or the shape of the

ear. It is a system invented and developed by Professor Tamassia of the University of Padua, Italy. A

superficial observer would say that all vein patterns were essentially similar, and many have said so, but

Tamassia has found each to be characteristic and all subject to almost incredible diversities. There are six

general classes in this case before us, two large veins crossed by a few secondary veins forming a V with its

"Already my suspicions had been aroused. I sketched the arrangement of the veins standing out on that hand.

I noted the same thing just now on the hand that manipulated the fake apparatus in the laboratory. Despite the

"The invisible rays of the ultraviolet light may have blinded Mr. Haswell, even to the recognition of his own

daughter, but you can rest assured, Prescott, that the very cleverness of your scheme will penetrate the eyes of

the blindfolded goddess of justice. Burnham, if you will have the kindness to summon the police, I will take

"What a relief it will be when this election is over and the newspapers print news again," I growled as I

"Yes," observed Kennedy, who was puzzling over a note which he had received in the morning mail. "This is

the bitterest campaign in years. Now, do you suppose that they are after me in a professional way or are they

The letter which had called forth this remark was headed, "The Travis Campaign Committee of the Reform

League," and, as Kennedy evidently intended me to pass an opinion on it, I picked it up. It was only a few

lines, requesting him to call during the morning, if convenient, on Wesley Travis, the candidate for governor

and the treasurer of his campaign committee, Dean Bennett. It had evidently been written in great haste in

"Professional," I hazarded. "There must be some scandal in the campaign for which they require your

"I suppose so," agreed Craig. "Well, if it is business instead of politics it has at least this merit it is current

Thus it came about that not very much later in the morning we found ourselves at the campaign headquarters,

in the presence of two nervous and highkeyed gentlemen in frock coats and silk hats. It would have taken no

great astuteness, even without seeing the surroundings, to deduce instantly that they were engaged in the

annual struggle of seeking the votes of their fellowcitizens for something or other, and were nearly worn out

Their headquarters were in a tower of a skyscraper, whence poured forth a torrent of appeal to the moral

sense of the electorate, both in printed and oral form. Yet there was a different tone to the place from that

which I had ordinarily associated with political headquarters in previous campaigns. There was an absence of

the oldfashioned politicians and of the air of intrigue laden with tobacco. Rather, there was an air of

earnestness and efficiency which was decidedly prepossessing. Maps of the state were hanging on the walls,

some stuck full of various coloured pins denoting the condition of the canvass. A map of the city in colours,

divided into all sorts of districts, told how fared the battle in the stronghold of the boss, Billy McLoughlin.

Huge systems of card indexes, loose leaf devices, laboursaving appliances for getting out a vast mass of

campaign "literature" in a hurry, in short a perfect system, such as a great, wellmanaged business might

Wesley Travis was a comparatively young man a lawyer who had early made a mark in politics and had been

astute enough to shake off the thraldom of the bosses before the popular uprising against them. Now he was

the candidate of the Reform League for governor and a good stiff campaign he was putting up.

His campaign manager, Dean Bennett, was a business man whose financial interests were opposed to those

usually understood to be behind Billy McLoughlin, of the regular party to which both Travis and Bennett

might naturally have been supposed to belong in the old days. Indeed the Reform League owed its existence

to a fortunate conjunction of both moral and economic conditions demanding progress.

"Things have been going our way up to the present," began Travis confidentially, when we were seated

democratically with our campaign cigars lighted. "Of course we haven't such a big 'barrel' as our opponents,

for we are not frying the fat out of the corporations. But the people have supported us nobly, and I think the

opposition of the vested interests has been a great help. We seem to be winning, and I say 'seem' only because

"You recall, Mr. Kennedy, reading in the papers that my country house out on Long Island was robbed the

other day? Some of the reporters made much of it. To tell the truth, I think they had become so satiated with

sensations that they were sure that the thing was put up by some muckrakers and that there would be an

expose of some kind. For the thief, whoever he was, seems to have taken nothing from my library but a sort

of scrapbook or album of photographs. It was a peculiar robbery, but as I had nothing to conceal it didn't

worry me. Well, I had all but forgotten it when a fellow came into Bennett's office here yesterday and

Bennett cleared his throat. "You see, it was this way. He gave his name as Harris Hanford and described

himself as a photographer. I think he has done work for Billy McLoughlin. At any rate, his offer was to sell

us several photographs, and his story about them was very circumstantial. He hinted that they had been

evidently among those stolen from Mr. Travis and that in a roundabout way they had come into the

possession of a friend of his without his knowing who the thief was. He said that he had not made the

photographs himself, but had an idea by whom they were made, that the original plates had been destroyed,

but that the person who made them was ready to swear that the pictures were taken after the nominating

convention this fall which had named Travis. At any rate the photographs were out and the price for them

"What are they that he should set such a price on them?" asked Kennedy, keenly looking from Bennett

Travis met his look without flinching. "They are supposed to be photographs of myself," he replied slowly.

"One purports to represent me in a group on McLoughlin's porch at his farm on the south shore of the island,

about twenty miles from my place. As Hanford described it, I am standing between McLoughlin and J.

Cadwalader Brown, the trust promoter who is backing McLoughlin to save his investments. Brown's hand is

on my shoulder and we are talking familiarly. Another is a picture of Brown, McLoughlin, and myself riding

in Brown's car, and in it Brown and I are evidently on the best of terms. Oh, there are several of them, all in

the same vein. Now," he added, and his voice rose with emotion as if he were addressing a carttail meeting

which must be convinced that there was nothing criminal in riding in a motorcar, "I don't hesitate to admit

that a year or so ago I was not on terms of intimacy with these men, but at least acquainted with them. At

various times, even as late as last spring, I was present at conferences over the presidential outlook in this

state, and once I think I did ride back to the city with them. But I know that there were no pictures taken, and

even if there had been I would not care if they told the truth about them. I have frankly admitted in=20my

speeches that I knew these men, that my knowledge of them and breaking from them is my chief qualification

for waging an effective war on them if I am elected. They hate me cordially. You know that. What I do care

about is the sworn allegation that now accompanies these these fakes. They were not, could not have been

taken after the independent convention that nominated me. If the photographs were true I would be a fine

traitor. But I haven't even seen McLoughlin or Brown since last spring. The whole thing is a "

"Lie from start to finish," put in Bennett emphatically. "Yes, Travis, we all know that. I'd quit right now if I

didn't believe in you. But let us face the facts. Here is this story, sworn to as Hanford says and apparently

acquiesced in by Billy McLoughlin and Cad. Brown. What do they care anyhow as long as it is against you?

And there, too, are the pictures themselves at least they will be in print or suppressed, according as we act.

Now, you know that nothing could hurt the reform ticket worse than to have an issue like this raised at this

time. We were supposed at least to be on the level, with nothing to explain away. There may be just enough

people to believe that there is some basis for this suspicion to turn the tide against us. If it were earlier in the

campaign I'd say accept the issue, fight it out to a finish, and in the turn of events we should really have the

best campaign material. But it is too late now to expose such a knavish trick of theirs on the Friday before

election. Frankly, I believe discretion is the better part of valour in this case and without abating a jot of my

faith in you, Travis, well, I'd pay first and expose the fraud afterward, after the election, at leisure."

"No, I won't," persisted Travis, shutting his square jaw doggedly. "I won't be held up."

The door had opened and a young lady in a very stunning street dress, with a huge hat and a tantalising veil,

stood in it for a moment, hesitated, and then was about to shut it with an apology for intruding on a

"I'll fight it if it takes my last dollar," declared Travis, "but I won't be blackmailed out of a cent.

Goodmorning, Miss Ashton. I'll be free in a moment. I'll see you in your office directly."

The girl, with a portfolio of papers in her hand, smiled, and Travis quickly crossed the room and held the

door deferentially open as he whispered a word or two. When she had disappeared he returned and remarked,

"I suppose you have heard of Miss Margaret Ashton, the suffragette leader, Mr. Kennedy? She is the head of

our press bureau." Then a heightened look of determination set his fine face in hard lines, and he brought his

Bennett shrugged his shoulders hopelessly and looked at Kennedy in mock resignation as if to say, "What can

you do with such a fellow?" Travis was excitedly pacing the floor and waving his arms as if he were

addressing a meeting in the enemy's country. "Hanford comes at us in this way," he continued, growing more

excited as he paced up and down. "He says plainly that the pictures will of course be accepted as among those

stolen from me, and in that, I suppose, he is right. The public will swallow it. When Bennett told him I would

prosecute he laughed and said, 'Go ahead. I didn't steal the pictures. That would be a great joke for Travis to

seek redress from the courts he is criticising. I guess he'd want to recall the decision if it went against him

hey?' Hanford says that a hundred copies have been made of each of the photographs and that this person,

whom we do not know, has them ready to drop into the mail to the one hundred leading papers of the state in

time for them to appear in the Monday editions just before Election Day. He says no amount of denying on

our part can destroy the effect or at least he went further and said 'shake their validity.'

"But I repeat. They are false. For all I know, it is a plot of McLoughlin's, the last fight of a boss for his life,

driven into a corner. And it is meaner than if he had attempted to forge a letter. Pictures appeal to the eye and

mind much more than letters. That's what makes the thing so dangerous. Billy McLoughlin knows how to

make the best use of such a roorback on the eve of an election, and even if I not only deny but prove that they

are a fake, I'm afraid the harm will be done. I can't reach all the voters in time. Ten see such a charge to one

"Just so," persisted Bennett coolly. "You admit that we are practically helpless. That's what I have been

saying all along. Get control of the prints first, Travis, for God's sake. Then raise any kind of a howl you want

before election or after. As I say, if we had a week or two it might be all right to fight. But we can make no

move without making fools of ourselves until they are published Monday as the last big thing of the

campaign. The rest of Monday and the Tuesday morning papers do not give us time to reply. Even if they

were published today we should hardly have time to expose the plot, hammer it in, and make the issue an

asset instead of a liability. No, you must admit it yourself. There isn't time. We must carry out the work we

have so carefully planned to cap the campaign, and if we are diverted by this it means a letup in our final

efforts, and that is as good as McLoughlin wants anyhow. Now, Kennedy, don't you agree with me? Squelch

the pictures now at any cost, then follow the thing up and, if we can, prosecute after election?"

Kennedy and I, who had been so far little more than interested spectators, had not presumed to interrupt.

"No," replied Bennett. "This Hanford is a brazen fellow, but he was too astute to leave them. I saw them for

"H'm," considered Kennedy, turning the crisis over in his mind. "We've had alleged stolen and forged letters

before, but alleged stolen and forged photographs are new. I'm not surprised that you are alarmed, Bennett,

"Then you will take up the case?" urged the latter eagerly, forgetting both his campaign manager and his

campaign manners, and leaning forward almost like a prisoner in the dock to catch the words of the foreman

of the jury. "You will trace down the forger of those pictures before it is too late?"

"I haven't said I'll do that yet," answered Craig measuredly. "I haven't even said I'd take up the case. Politics

is a new game to me, Mr. Travis. If I go into this thing I want to go into it and stay in it well, you know

how you lawyers put it, with clean hands. On one condition I'll take the matter up, and on only one."

"Of course, having been retained by you," continued Craig with provoking slowness, "it is not reasonable to

suppose that if I find how shall I put it bluntly, yes? if I find that the story of Hanford has some er

foundation, it is not reasonable to suppose that I should desert you and go over to the other side. Neither is it

to be supposed that I will continue and carry such a thing through for you regardless of truth. What I ask is to

have a free hand, to be able to drop the case the moment I cannot proceed further in justice to myself, drop it,

"And you think you can make good?" questioned Bennett rather sceptically. "You are willing to risk it? You

"Done," broke in Travis. "I'm going to fight it out, Bennett. If we get in wrong by dickering with them at the

Bennett shook his head dubiously. "I'm afraid this will suit McLoughlin's purpose just as well. Photographs

are like statistics. They don't lie unless the people who make them do. But it's hard to tell what a liar can

"Say' Dean, you're not going to desert me?" reproached Travis. "You're not offended at my kicking over the

Bennett rose, placed a hand on Travis's shoulder, and grasped his other. "Wesley," he said earnestly, "I

"I knew it," responded Travis heartily. "Then let Mr. Kennedy have one day to see what he can do. Then if

we make no progress we'll take your advice, Dean. We'll pay, I suppose, and ask Mr. Kennedy to continue the

"With the proviso, Kennedy," repeated Travis. "Your hand on that. Say, I think I've shaken hands with half

the male population of this state since I was nominated, but this means more to me than any of them. Call on

us, either Bennett or myself, the moment you need aid. Spare no reasonable expense, and and get the goods,

no matter whom it hits higher up, even if it is Cadwalader Brown himself. Goodbye and a thousand thanks

oh, by the way, wait. Let me take you around and introduce you to Miss Ashton. She may be able to help

The office of Bennett and Travis was in the centre of the suite. On one side were the cashier and clerical force

as well as the speakers' bureau, where spellbinders of all degrees were getting=20 instruction, tours were

On the other side was the press bureau with a large and active force in charge of Miss Ashton, who was

supporting Travis because he had most emphatically declared for "Votes for Women" and had insisted that

his party put this plank in its platform. Miss Ashton was a clever girl, a graduate of a famous woman's

college, and had had several years of newspaper experience before she became a leader in the suffrage cause.

I recalled having read and heard a great deal about her, though I had never met her. The Ashtons were well

known in New York society, and it was a sore trial to some of her conservative friends that she should reject

what they considered the proper "sphere" for women. Among those friends, I understood, was Cadwalader

Travis had scarcely more than introduced us, yet already I scented a romance behind the ordinarily prosaic

conduct of a campaign press bureau. It is far from my intention to minimise the work or the ability of the

head of the press bureau, but it struck me, both then and later, that the candidate had an extraordinary interest

in the newspaper campaign, much more than in the speakers' bureau, and I am sure that it was not solely

accounted for by the fact that publicity is playing a more and more important part in political campaigning.

Nevertheless such innovations as her card index system by election districts all over the state, showing the

attitude of the various newspaper editors, of local political leaders, and changes of sentiment, were very full

and valuable. Kennedy, who had a regular pigeonhole mind for facts, was visibly impressed by this huge

mechanical memory built up by Miss Ashton. Though he said nothing to me I knew he had also observed the

It was at a moment when Travis had been called back to his office that Kennedy, who had been eyeing Miss

Ashton with marked approval, leaned over and said in a low voice, "Miss Ashton, I think I can trust you. Do

She did not betray even by a fleeting look on her face what the true state of her feelings was, although I

fancied that the readiness of her assent had perhaps more meaning than she would have placed in a simple

"I suppose you know that an attempt is being made to blackmail Mr. Travis?" added Kennedy quickly.

"I know something about it," she replied in a tone which left it for granted that Travis had told her before

even we were called in. I felt that not unlikely Travis's set determination to fight might be traceable to her

"I suppose in a large force like this it is not impossible that your political enemies may have a spy or two,"

observed Kennedy, glancing about at the score or more clerks busily engaged in getting out "literature."

"I have sometimes thought that myself," she agreed. "But of course I don't know. Still, I have to be pretty

careful. Some one is always over here by my desk or looking over here. There isn't much secrecy in a big

room like this. I never leave important stuff lying about where any of them could see it.

"Well, then, if I should call here tonight at, say, halfpast nine, could you be here? I need hardly say that

"I shall be here," she promised, giving her hand with a peculiar straight arm shake and looking him frankly in

the face with those eyes which even the old guard in the legislature admitted were votewinners.

Kennedy was not quite ready to leave yet, but sought out Travis and obtained permission to glance over the

financial end of the campaign. There were few large contributors to Travis's fund, but a host of small sums

ranging from ten and twentyfive dollars down to dimes and nickels. Truly it showed the depth of the

popular uprising. Kennedy also glanced hastily over the items of expense rent, salaries, stenographer and

office force, advertising, printing and stationery, postage, telephone, telegraph, automobile and travelling

As Kennedy expressed it afterwards, as against the small driblets of money coming in, large sums were going

out for expenses in lumps. Campaigning in these days costs money even when done honestly. The

miscellaneous account showed some large indefinite items, and after a hasty calculation Kennedy made out

that if all the obligations had to be met immediately the committee would be in the hole for several thousand

"In short," I argued as we were leaving, "this will either break Travis privately or put his fund in hopeless

shape. Or does it mean that he foresees defeat and is taking this way to recoup himself under cover of being

Kennedy said nothing in response to my suspicions, though I could see that in his mind he was leaving no

It was only a few blocks to the studio of Harris Hanford, whom Kennedy was now bent on seeing. We found

him in an old building on one of the side streets in the thirties which business had captured. His was a little

place on the top floor, up three flights of stairs, and I noticed as we climbed up that the room next to his was

Our interview with Hanford was short and unsatisfactory. He either was or at least posed as representing a

third party in the affair, and absolutely refused to permit us to have even a glance at the photographs.

"My dealings," he asserted airily, "must all be with Mr. Bennett, or with Mr. Travis, direct, not with

emissaries. I don't make any secret about it. The prints are not here. They are safe and ready to be produced at

the right time, either to be handed over for the money or to be published in the newspapers. We have found

out all about them; we are satisfied, although the negatives have been destroyed. As for their having been

stolen from Travis, you can put two and two together. They are out and copies have been made of them, good

copies. If Mr. Travis wishes to repudiate them, let him start proceedings. I told Bennett all about that.

Tomorrow is the last day, and I must have Bennett's answer then, without any interlopers coming into it. If it

It was still early in the forenoon, and Kennedy's next move was to go out on Long Island to examine the

library at Travis's from which the pictures were said to have been stolen. At the laboratory Kennedy and I

loaded ourselves with a large oblong black case containing a camera and a tripod.

His examination of the looted library was minute, taking in the window through which the thief had

apparently entered, the cabinet he had forced, and the situation in general. Finally Craig set up his camera

with most particular care and took several photographs of the window, the cabinet, the doors, including the

room from every angle. Outside he snapped the two sides of the corner of the house in which the library was

situated. Partly by trolley and partly by carriage we crossed the island to the south shore, and finally found

McLoughlin's farm, where we had no trouble in getting half a dozen photographs of the porch and house.

Altogether the proceedings seemed tame to me, yet I knew from previous experience that Kennedy had a

We parted in the city, to meet just before it was time to visit Miss Ashton. Kennedy had evidently employed

the interval in developing his plates, for he now had ten or a dozen prints, all of exactly the same size,

mounted on stiff cardboard in a space with scales and figures on all four sides. He saw me puzzling over

"Those are metric photographs such as Bertillon of Paris takes," he explained. "By means of the scales and

tables and other methods that have been worked out we can determine from those pictures distances and

many other things almost as well as if we were on the spot itself. Bertillon has cleared up many crimes with

this help, such as the mystery of the shooting in the Hotel Quai d'Orsay and other cases. The metric

photograph, I believe, will in time rank with the portrait parle, finger prints, and the rest.

"For instance, in order to solve the riddle of a crime the detective's first task is to study the scene

topographically. Plans and elevations of a room or house are made. The position of each object is

painstakingly noted. In addition, the allseeing eye of the camera is called into requisition. The plundered

room is photographed, as in this case. I might have done it by placing a foot rule on a table and taking that in

the picture, but a more scientific and accurate method has been devised by Bertillon. His camera lens is

always used at a fixed height from the ground and forms its image on the plate at an exact focus. The print

made from the negative is mounted on a card in a space of definite size, along the edges of which a metric

scale is printed. In the way he has worked it out the distance between any two points in the picture can be

determined. With a topographical plan and a metric photograph one can study a crime as a general studies the

map of a strange country. There were several peculiar things that I observed today, and I have here an

indelible record of the scene of the crime. Preserved in this way it cannot be questioned.

"Now the photographs were in this cabinet. There are other cabinets, but none of them has been disturbed.

Therefore the thief must have known just what he was after. The marks made in breaking the lock were not

those of a jimmy but of a screwdriver. No amazing command of the resources of science is needed so far. All

"Now, how did the robber get in? All the windows and doors were supposedly locked. It is alleged that a pane

was cut from this window at the side. It was, and the pieces were there to show it. But take a glance at this

outside photograph. To reach that window even a tall man must have stood on a ladder or something. There

are no marks of a ladder or of any person in the soft soil under the window. What is more, that window was

cut from the inside. The marks of the diamond which cut it plainly show that. Scientific common sense

"Then it must have been some one in the house or at least some one familiar with it?"I exclaimed.

Kennedy nodded. "One thing we have which the police greatly neglect," he pursued, "a record. We have

made some progress in reconstructing the crime, as Bertillon calls it. If we only had those Hanford pictures

We were now on our way to see Miss Ashton at headquarters, and as we rode downtown I tried to reason out

the case. Had it really been a putup job? Was Travis himself faking, and was the robbery a "plant" by which

he might forestall exposure of what had become public property in the hands of another, no longer disposed

The whole thing began to assume a suspicious look in my mind. Although Kennedy seemed to have made

little real progress, I felt that, far from aiding Travis, it made things darker. There was nothing but his

unsupported word that he had not visited the Boss subsequent to the nominating convention. He admitted

having done so before the Reform League came into existence. Besides it seemed tacitly understood that both

the Boss and Cadwalader Brown acquiesced in the sworn statement of the man who said he had made the

pictures. Added to that the mere existence of the actual pictures themselves was a graphic clincher to the

story. Personally, if I had been in Kennedy's place I think I should have taken advantage of the proviso in the

compact with Travis to back out gracefully. Kennedy, however, now started on the case, hung to it

Miss Ashton was waiting for us at the press bureau. Her desk was at the middle of one end of the room in

which, if she could keep an eye on her office force, the office force also could keep an eye on her.

Kennedy had apparently taken in the arrangement during our morning visit, for he set to work immediately.

The side of the room toward the office of Travis and Bennett presented an expanse of blank wall. With a

mallet he quickly knocked a hole in the rough plaster, just above the baseboard about the room. The hole did

not penetrate quite through to the other side. In it he placed a round disc of vulcanised rubber, with insulated

wires leading down back of the baseboard, then out underneath it, and under the carpet. Some plaster quickly

Next he led the wires under the carpet to Miss Ashton's desk. There they ended, under the carpet and a rug,

eighteen or twenty huge coils several feet in diameter disposed in such a way as to attract no attention by a

"That is all, Miss Ashton," he said as we watched for his next move. "I shall want to see you early

It was a very becoming hat, but Kennedy's tone clearly indicated that it was not his taste in inverted basket

millinery that prompted the request. She promised, smiling, for even a suffragette may like pretty hats.

Craig had still to see Travis and report on his work. The candidate was waiting anxiously at his hotel after a

big political mass meeting on the East Side, at which capitalism and the bosses had been hissed to the echo, if

"I'm afraid," replied Kennedy, and the candidate's face fell at the tone, "I'm afraid you will have to meet them,

for the present. The time limit will expire tomorrow, and I understand Hanford is coming up for a final

answer. We must have copies of those photographs, even if we have to pay for them. There seems to be no

Travis sank back in his chair and regarded Kennedy hopelessly. He was actually pale. "you you don't mean

to say that there is no other way, that I'll have to admit even before Bennett and others that I'm in bad?"

"It is that way," Travis asserted almost fiercely. "Why, we could have done that anyhow. No, no, I don't

"You will direct Bennett to make the best terms he can with Hanford when he comes up tomorrow. Have

him arrange the details of payment and then rush the best copies of the photographs to me."

We met Miss Ashton the following morning entering her office. Kennedy handed her a package, and in a few

words, which I did not hear, explained what he wanted, promising to call again later.

When we called, the girls and other clerks had arrived, and the office was a hive of industry in the rush of

winding up the campaign. Typewriters were clicking, clippings were being snipped out of a huge stack of

newspapers and pasted into large scrapbooks, circulars were being folded and made ready to mail for the

final appeal. The room was indeed crowded, and I felt that there was no doubt, as Kennedy had said, that

nothing much could go on there unobserved by any one to whose interest it was to see it.

Miss Ashton was sitting at her desk with her hat on directing the work. "It works," she remarked

"Good," he replied. "I merely dropped in to be sure. Now if anything of interest happens, Miss Ashton, I wish

you would let me know immediately. I must not be seen up here, but I shall be waiting downstairs in the

corridor of the building. My next move depends entirely on what you have to report."

Downstairs Craig waited with growing impatience. We stood in an angle in which we could see without

being readily seen, and our impatience was not diminished by seeing Hanford enter the elevator.

I think that Miss Ashton would have made an excellent woman detective, that is, on a case in which her

personal feelings were not involved as they were here. She was pale and agitated as she appeared in the

"Oh, Mr. Kennedy, why did you ask me to do this?" she reproached. "I would almost rather not have known

"Believe me, Miss Ashton," said Kennedy, "you ought to know. It is on you that I depend most. We saw

She was still pale, and replied nervously, "Mr. Bennett came in about quarter to ten. He stopped to talk to me

and looked about the room curiously. Do you know, I felt very uncomfortable for a time. Then he locked the

door leading from the press bureau to his office, and left word that he was not to be disturbed. A few minutes

She was racing on breathlessly, scarcely giving one a chance to inquire how she had learned so much.

"Why," she cried with a sort of defiant ring in her tone, "Mr. Travis is going to buy those pictures after all.

And the worst of it is that I met him in the hall coming in as I was coming down here, and he tried to act

toward me in the same old way and that after all I know now about him. They have fixed it all up, Mr.

Bennett acting for Mr. Travis, and this Mr. Hanford. They are even going to ask me to carry the money in a

sealed envelope to the studio of this fellow Hanford, to be given to a third person who will be there at two

"You, Miss Ashton?" inquired Kennedy, a light breaking on his face as if at last he saw something.

"Yes, I," she repeated. "Hanford insisted that it was part of the compact. They they haven't asked me openly

yet to be the means of carrying out their dirty deals, but when they do, I won't "

"Miss Ashton," remonstrated Kennedy, "I beg you to be calm. I had no idea you would take it like this, no

idea. Please, please. Walter, you will excuse us if we take a turn down the corridor and out in the air. This is

For five or ten minutes Kennedy and Miss Ashton appeared to be discussing the new turn of events earnestly,

while I waited impatiently. As they approached again she seemed calmer, but I heard her say, "I hope you're

right. I'm all broken up by it. I'm ready to resign. My faith in human nature is shaken. No, I won't expose

Wesley Travis for his sake. It cuts me to have to admit it, but Cadwalader used always to say that every man

has his price. I am afraid this will do great harm to the cause of reform and through it to the woman suffrage

Kennedy was still looking earnestly at her. "Miss Ashton," he implored, "believe nothing. Remember one of

"Wait?" she echoed. "How can I? I hate Wesley Travis for giving in more than I hate Cadwalader Brown

She bit her lip at thus betraying her feelings, but what she had heard had evidently affected her deeply. It was

as though the feet of her idol had turned to clay. Nevertheless it was evident that she was coming to look on it

"Just think it over," urged Kennedy. "They won't ask you right away. Don't do anything rash. Suspend

Craig's next problem seemed to be to transfer the scene of his operations to Hanford's studio. He was

apparently doing some rapid thinking as we walked uptown after leaving Miss Ashton, and I did not venture

to question him on what had occurred when it was so evident that everything depended on being prepared for

Hanford was out. That seemed to please Kennedy, for with a brightening face, which told more surely than

words that he saw his way more and more clearly, he asked me to visit the agent and hire the vacant office

next to the studio while he went uptown to complete his arrangements for the final step.

I had completed my part and was waiting in the empty room when he returned. He lost no time in getting to

work, and it seemed to me as I watched him curiously in silence that he was repeating what he had already

done at the Travis headquarters. He was boring into the wall, only this time he did it much more carefully,

and it was evident that if he intended putting anything into this cavity it must be pretty large. The hole was

square, and as I bent over I could see that he had cut through the plaster and laths all the way to the wallpaper

on the other side, though he was careful to leave that intact. Then he set up a square black box in the cavity,

carefully poising it and making measurements that told of the exact location of its centre with reference to the

A skeleton key took us into Hanford's welllighted but now empty studio. For Miss Ashton's sake I wished

that the photographs had been there. I am sure Kennedy would have found slight compunction in a larceny of

them, if they had been. It was something entirely different that he had in mind now, however, and he was

working quickly for fear of discovery. By his measurements I guessed that he was calculating as nearly as

possible the centre of the box which he had placed in the hole in the wall on the other side of the dark

wallpaper. When he had quite satisfied himself he took a fine pencil from his pocket and made a light cross

on the paper to indicate it. The dot fell to the left of a large calendar hanging on the wall.

Kennedy's appeal to Margaret Ashton had evidently had its effect, for when we saw her a few moments after

"They have asked me to carry a note to Mr. Hanford's studio," she said quietly, "and without letting them

Craig shook his head, but did not dispute the point. "After you have handed the envelope to the person,

whoever it may be, in Hanford's studio, wait until he does something er suspicious. Meanwhile look at

the wall on the side toward the next vacant office. To the left of the big calendar you will see a light pencil

mark, a cross. Somehow you must contrive to get near it, but don't stand in front of it. Then if anything

happens stick this little number 10 needle in the wall right at the intersection of the cross. Withdraw it

quickly, count fifteen, then put this little sticker over the cross, and get out as best you can, though we shan't

We did not accompany her to the studio for fear of being observed, but waited impatiently in the next office.

We could hear nothing of what was said, but when a door shut and it was evident that she had gone, Kennedy

As soon as it was safe Kennedy had sent me posting after her to secure copies of the incriminating

photographs which were to be carried by her from the studio, while he remained to see who came out. I

thought a change had come over her as she handed me the package with the request that I carry it to Mr.

The first inkling I had that Kennedy had at last been able to trace back something in the mysterious doings of

the past two days came the following evening, when Craig remarked casually that he would like to have me

call on Billy McLoughlin if I had no engagement. I replied that I had none and managed to squirm out of the

The Boss's office was full of politicians, for it was the eve of "dough day," when the purse strings were

loosed and a flood of potent argument poured forth to turn the tide of election. Hanford was there with the

"Mr. McLoughlin," began Kennedy quietly, when we were seated alone with Hanford in the little sanctum of

the Boss, "you will pardon me if I seem a little slow in coming to the business that has brought me here

tonight. First of all, I may say, and you, Hanford, being a photographer will appreciate it, that ever since the

days of Daguerre photography has been regarded as the one infallible means of portraying faithfully any

object, scene, or action. Indeed a photograph is admitted in court as irrefutable evidence. For when

everything else fails, a picture made through the photographic lens almost invariably turns the tide. However,

such a picture upon which the fate of an important case may rest should be subjected to critical examination

for it is an established fact that a photograph may be made as untruthful as it may be reliable. Combination

photographs change entirely the character of the initial negative and have been made for the past fifty years.

The earliest, simplest, and most harmless photographic deception is the printing of clouds into a bare sky. But

the retoucher with his pencil and etching tool today is very skilful. A workman of ordinary skill can

introduce a person taken in a studio into an openair scene well blended and in complete harmony without a

"I need say nothing of how one head can be put on another body in a picture, nor need I say what a double

exposure will do. There is almost no limit to the changes that may be wrought in form and feature. It is

possible to represent a person crossing Broadway or walking on Riverside Drive, places he may never have

visited. Thus a person charged with an offence may be able to prove an alibi by the aid of a skilfully prepared

"Where, then, can photography be considered as irrefutable evidence? The realism may convince all, will

convince all, except the expert and the initiated after careful study. A shrewd judge will insist that in every

case the negative be submitted and examined for possible alterations by a clever manipulator."

Kennedy bent his gaze on McLoughlin. "Now, I do not accuse you, sir, of anything. But a photograph has

come into the possession of Mr. Travis in which he is represented as standing on the steps of your house with

yourself and Mr. Cadwalader Brown. He and Mr. Brown are in poses that show the utmost friendliness. I do

not hesitate to say that that was originally a photograph of yourself, Mr. Brown, and your own candidate. It is

a pretty raw deal, a fake in which Travis has been substituted by very excellent photographic forgery."

McLoughlin motioned to Hanford to reply. "A fake?" repeated the latter contemptuously. "How about the

affidavits? There's no negative. You've got to prove that the original print stolen from Travis, we'll say, is a

"September 19th was the date alleged, I believe?" asked Kennedy quietly, laying down the bundle of metric

photographs and the alleged photographs of Travis. He was pointing to a shadow of a gable on the house as it

"You see that shadow of the gable? Perhaps you never heard of it, Hanford, but it is possible to tell the exact

time at which a photograph was taken from a study of the shadows. It is possible in principle and practice and

can be trusted. Almost any scientist may be called on to bear testimony in court nowadays, but you would say

the astronomer is one of the least likely. Well, the shadow in this picture will prove an alibi for some one.

"Notice. It is seen very prominently to the right, and its exact location on the house is an easy matter. You

could almost use the metric photograph for that. The identification of the gable casting the shadow is easy. To

be exact it is 19.62 feet high. The shadow is 14.23 feet down, 13.10 feet east, and 3.43 feet north. You see I

am exact. I have to be. In one minute it moved 0.080 feet upward, 0.053 feet to the right, and 0.096 feet in its

apparent path. It passes the width of a weatherboard, 0.37 foot, in four minutes and thirtyseven seconds."

Kennedy was talking rapidly of data which he had derived from his metric photograph, from plumb line,

level, compass, and tape, astronomical triangle, vertices, zenith, pole and sun, declination, azimuth, solar

"In spherical trigonometry," he concluded, "to solve the problem three elements must be known. I knew four.

Therefore I could take each of the known, treat it as unknown, and have four ways to check my result. I find

that the time might have been either three o'clock, twentyone minutes and twelve seconds, in the afternoon,

or 3:21 :31, or 3 :21 :29, or 3:21 :33. The average is 3 :21 :26, and there can therefore be no appreciable error

except for a few seconds. For that date must have been one of two days, either May 22 or July 22. Between

these two dates we must decide on evidence other than the shadow. It must have been in May, as the

immature condition of the foliage shows. But even if it had been in July, that is far from being September.

The matter of the year I have also settled. Weather conditions, I find, were favourable on all=20these dates

except that in September. I can really answer, with an assurance and accuracy superior to that of the

photographer himself even if he were honest as to the real date. The real picture, aside from being

doctored, was actually taken last May. Science is not fallible, but exact in this matter."

Kennedy had scored a palpable hit. McLaughlin and Hanford were speechless. Still Craig hurried on.

"But, you may ask, how about the automobile picture? That also is an unblushing fake. Of course I must

prove that. In the first place, you know that the general public has come to recognise the distortion of a

photograph as denoting speed. A picture of a car in a race that doesn't lean is rejected people demand to see

speed, speed, more speed even in pictures. Distortion does indeed show speed, but that, too, can be faked.

"Hanford knows that the image is projected upside down by the lens on the plate, and that the bottom of the

picture is taken before the top. The camera mechanism admits light, which makes the picture, in the manner

of a roller blind curtain. The slit travels from the top to the bottom and the image on the plate being projected

upside down, the bottom of the object appears on the top of the plate. For instance, the wheels are taken

before the head of the driver. If the car is moving quickly the image moves on the plate and each successive

part is taken a little in advance of the last. The whole leans forward. By widening the slit and slowing the

"Now, this is what happened. A picture was taken of Cadwalader Brown's automobile, probably at rest, with

Brown in it. The matter of faking Travis or any one else by his side is simple. If with an enlarging lantern the

image of this faked picture is thrown on the paper like a lantern slide, and if the right hand side is a little

further away than the left, the top further away than the bottom, you can print a fraudulent high speed ahead

picture. True, everything else in the picture, even if motionless, is distorted, and the difference between this

faking and the distortion of the shutter can be seen by an expert. But it will pass. In this case, however, the

faker was so sure of that that he was careless. Instead of getting the plate further from the paper on the right

he did so on the left. It was further away on the bottom than on the top. He got distortion all right, enough

still to satisfy the uninitiated. But it was distortion in the wrong way! The top of the wheel, which goes fastest

and ought to be most indistinct, is, in the fake, as sharp as any other part. It is a small mistake, but fatal. That

"You don't think people are going to swallow all that stuff, do you?" asked Hanford coolly, in spite of the

Kennedy paid no attention. He was looking at McLoughlin. The Boss was regarding him surlily. "Well," he

said at length, "what of all this? I had nothing to do with it. Why do you come to me? Take it to the proper

He had uncovered another picture carefully. We could not see it, but as he looked at it McLoughlin fairly

"I got it where I got it, and it is no fake," replied Kennedy enigmatically. Then he appeared to think better of

it. "This," he explained, "is what is known as a pinhole photograph. Three hundred years ago della Porta

knew the camera obscura, and but for the lack of a sensitive plate would have made photographs. A box,

thoroughly lighttight, slotted inside to receive plates, covered with black, and glued tight, a needle hole

made by a number 10 needle in a thin sheet of paper and you have the apparatus for lensless photography. It

has a correctness such as no imageforming means by lenses can have. It is literally rectigraphic, rectilinear,

it needs no focussing, and it takes a wide angle with equal effect. Even pinhole snapshots are possible where

"That picture, McLoughlin, was taken yesterday at Hanford's. After Miss Ashton left I saw who came out, but

this picture shows what happened before. At a critical moment Miss Ashton stuck a needle in the wall of the

studio, counted fifteen closed the needlehole, and there is the record Walter, Hanford, leave us alone an

When Kennedy passed out of the Boss's office there was a look of quiet satisfaction on his face which I could

not fathom. Not a word could I extract from him either that night or on the following day, which was the last

before the election. I must say that I was keenly disappointed by the lack of developments, however. The

whole thing seemed to me to be a mess. Everybody was involved. What had Miss Ashton overheard and what

had Kennedy said to McLoughlin? Above all, what was his game? Was he playing to spare the girl's feelings

At last election night arrived. We were all at the Travis headquarters, Kennedy, Travis, Bennett, and myself.

Miss Ashton was not present, but the first returns had scarcely begun to trickle in when Craig whispered to

me to go out and find her, either at her home or club. I found her at home. She had apparently lost interest in

The excitement of any other night in the year paled to insignificance before this. Distracted crowds

everywhere were cheering and blowing horns. Now a series of wild shouts broke forth from the dense mass

of people before a newspaper bulletin board. Now came sullen groans, hisses, and catcalls, or all together

with cheers as the returns swung in another direction. Not even baseball could call out such a crowd as this.

Lights blazed everywhere. Automobiles honked and ground their gears. The lobster palaces were thronged.

Police were everywhere. People with horns and bells and all manner of noisemaking devices pushed up one

side of the thoroughfares and down the other. Hungrily, ravenously they were feeding or the meagre bulletins

Yet back of all the noise and human energy I could only think of the silent, systematic gathering and editing

of the news. High up in the League headquarters, when we returned, a corps of clerks was tabulating returns,

comparing official and semiofficial reports. As first the state swung one way, then another, our hopes rose

and fell. Miss Ashton seemed cold and ill at ease, while Travis looked more worried and paid less attention to

the returns than would have seemed natural. She avoided him and he seemed to hesitate to seek her out.

Would the upstate returns, I had wondered at first, be large enough to overcome the hostile city vote? I was

"McLoughlin has kept his word," ejaculated Kennedy as district after district showed that the Boss's

pluralities were being seriously cut into. "His word? What do you mean?" we asked almost together.

"I mean that he has kept his word given to me at a conference which Mr. Jameson saw but did not hear. I told

him I would publish the whole thing, not caring whom or where or when it hit if he did not let up on Travis. I

advised him to read his Revised Statutes again about money in elections, and I ended up with the threat,

'There will be no dough day, McLoughlin, or this will be prosecuted to the limit.' There was no dough day.

"But how did you do it?" I asked, not comprehending. "The faked photographs did not move him, that I could

The words, "faked photographs," caused Miss Ashton to glance up quickly. I saw that Kennedy had not told

her or any one yet, until the Boss had made good. He had simply arranged one of his little dramas.

"Shall I tell, Miss Ashton?" he asked, adding, "Before I complete my part of the compact and blot out the

"I have no right to say no," she answered tremulously, but with a look of happiness that I had not seen since

Kennedy laid down a print on a table. It was the pinhole photograph, a little blurry, but quite convincing. On

a desk in the picture was a pile of bills. McLoughlin was shoving them away from him toward Bennett. A

man who was facing forward in the picture was talking earnestly to some one who did not appear. I felt

intuitively, even before Kennedy said so, that the person was Miss Ashton herself as she stuck the needle into

"Travis," demanded Kennedy, "bring the account books of your campaign. I want the miscellaneous account

The books were brought, and he continued, turning the leaves, "It seemed to me to show a shortage of nearly

twenty thousand dollars the other day. Why, it has been made up. How was that, Bennett?"

Bennett was speechless. "I will tell you," Craig proceeded inexorably. "Bennett, you embezzled that money

for your business. Rather than be found out, you went to Billy McLoughlin and offered to sell out the Reform

campaign for money to replace it. With the aid of the crook, Hanford, McLoughlin's tool, you worked out the

scheme to extort money from Travis by forged photographs. You knew enough about Travis's house and

library to frame up a robbery one night when you were staying there with him. It was inside work, I found, at

a glance. Travis, I am sorry to have to tell you that your confidence was misplaced. It was Bennett who

"But Cadwalader Brown, always close to his creature, Billy McLoughlin, heard of it. To him it presented

another idea.=20 To him it offered a chance to overthrow a political enemy and a hated rival for Miss

Ashton's hand. Perhaps into the bargain it would disgust her with politics, disillusion her, and shake her faith

in what he believed to be some of her 'radical' notions. All could be gained at one blow. They say that a

checkbook knows no politics, but Bennett has learned some, I venture to say, and to save his reputation he

Travis could scarcely believe it yet. "How did you get your first hint?" he gasped.

Kennedy was digging into the wall with a bill file at the place where he had buried the little vulcanised disc. I

had already guessed that it was a dictograph, though I could not tell how it was used or who used it. There it

was, set squarely in the plaster. There also were the wires running under the carpet. As he lifted the rug under

At this moment Miss Ashton stepped forward. "Last Friday," she said in a low tone, "I wore a belt which

concealed a coil of wire about my waist. From it a wire ran under my coat, connecting with a small dry

battery in a pocket. Over my head I had an arrangement such as the telephone girls wear with a receiver at

one ear connected with the battery. No one saw it, for I wore a large hat which completely hid it. If any one

had known, and there were plenty of eyes watching, the whole thing would have fallen through. I could walk

around; no one could suspect anything; but when I stood or sat at my desk I could hear everything that was

"By induction," explained Kennedy. "The impulses set up in the concealed dictograph set up currents in these

coils of wire concealed under the carpet. They were wirelessly duplicated by induction in the coil about Miss

Ashton's waist and so affected the receiver under her very becoming hat. Tell the rest, Miss Ashton."

"I heard the deal arranged with this Hanford," she added, almost as if she were confessing something, "but

not understanding it as Mr. Kennedy did, I very hastily condemned Mr. Travis. I heard talk of putting back

twenty thousand into the campaign accounts, of five thousand given to Hanford for his photographic work,

and of the way Mr. Travis was to be defeated whether he paid or not. I heard them say that one condition was

that I should carry the purchase money. I heard much that must have confirmed Mr. Kennedy's suspicion in

one way, and my own in an opposite way, which I know now was wrong. And then Cadwalader Brown in the

studio taunted me cynically and and it cut me, for he seemed right. I hope that Mr. Travis will forgive me

A terrific cheer broke out among the clerks in the outer office. A boy rushed in with a still unblotted report.

"McLoughlin concedes the city by a small majority to Travis, fifteen election districts estimated. This

I turned to Travis. He was paying no attention except to the pretty apology of Margaret Ashton.

Kennedy drew me to the door. "We might as well concede Miss Ashton to Travis," he said, adding gaily, "by