The next morning, when Ramon Hamilton presented himself at Henry Blaine’s office in answer to the latter’s summons, he found the great detective in a mood more nearly bordering upon excitability than he could remember having witnessed before. Instead of being seated calmly at his desk, his thoughts masked with his usual inscrutable imperturbability, Blaine was pacing restlessly back and forth with the disquietude, not of agitation, but of concentrated, ebullient energy.

“I sent for you, Mr. Hamilton,” he began, after greeting his visitor cordially and waving him to a chair, “because we must proceed actively with the investigation into the alleged bankruptcy of Pennington Lawton. We have been passive long enough for me to have gathered some significant facts, but we now must make a salient move. The time hasn’t yet come for me to step out into the open. When I do, it will be a tooth-and-nail fight, and I must be equipped with facts, not theories. I want some particulars about Mr. Lawton’s insolvency, and there is no one who could more naturally inquire into this without arousing suspicion than you.”

“I don’t need to tell you, Mr. Blaine, how anxious I am to do anything I can to help you, for Miss Lawton’s sake,” Ramon Hamilton replied eagerly. “I should like to have looked into the matter long ago––indeed, 79 I felt that suspicion must have been aroused in the minds of Mallowe and his associates by the fact that I accepted the astounding news of the bankruptcy as unquestioningly as Miss Lawton herself, unless they thought me an addlepated fool––but I didn’t want to go ahead without direct instructions from you.”

“I did not so direct you, Mr. Hamilton, for a distinct purpose. I wished the men we believe to be responsible for the present conditions to be slightly puzzled by your attitude, so that when the time came for you to begin your investigation, they would be more completely reassured. In order to make your questioning absolutely bona fide, I want you to go first this morning to the office of Anderson & Wallace, the late Mr. Lawton’s attorneys, and question them as if having come with Miss Lawton’s authority. Don’t suggest any suspicion of there being any crookedness at work, but merely inquire as fully as possible into the details of Mr. Lawton’s business affairs. They will, in their replies, undoubtedly bring in Mr. Mallowe, Mr. Rockamore and Mr. Carlis, which will give you a cue to go quite openly and frankly to one of the three––preferably Mallowe––for corroboration. Knowing that you come direct from the late Mr. Lawton’s attorneys, he will be only too glad to give you whatever information he may possess or may have concocted––and so lay open to you his plan of defense.”

“Defense? You think, then, Mr. Blaine, that they anticipate possible trouble––exposure, even? Surely such astute, far-seeing men as Mallowe and Rockamore are, at least, would not have attempted such a gigantic fraud if they’d anticipated the possibility of being discovered! Carlis has weathered so many storms, so many attacks upon his reputation and civic honor, that 80 he may have felt cocksure of his position and gone into this thing without thought for the future, but the other two are men of different caliber, men with everything in the world to lose.”

“And colossal, unearned wealth to gain––don’t forget that, Mr. Hamilton. Men of different caliber, I grant you, but all three in the same whirlpool of crime, bound by thieves’ law to sink or swim together. It is because they are astute and far-seeing that they must inevitably have considered the possibility of exposure and safeguarded themselves against it with bogus corroborative proof. If that proof is in tangible form, and we can lay our hands on it, we shall have them where we want them. Now go back to your office, Mr. Hamilton, and dictate this letter to your stenographer, having it left open on your desk for your signature. Don’t wait for the letter to be typed, but proceed at once to the office of Anderson & Wallace. You, as a lawyer, will of course know the form of inquiry to use.”

The detective handed Ramon Hamilton a typewritten sheet of paper from his desk; and the young man, after hastily perusing it, gazed with a blank stare of amazement into Blaine’s eyes.

“I can’t make this out,” he objected. “Who on earth is Alexander Gibbs, and what has he to do with Miss Lawton’s case? This letter seems to inform one Alexander Gibbs that I have retained you to recover for us the last will and testament of his aunt, Mrs. Dorothea Gibbs. I have no such client, and I know no one in––what’s the address?––Ellenville, Sullivan County.”

Blaine smiled.

“Of course you don’t, Mr. Hamilton. Nevertheless, you will sign that letter and your secretary will mail it––that is, after it has lain open upon your desk for 81 casual inspection for a considerable length of time. One of my operatives will receive it in Ellenville.”

“But what has it to do with the matter in hand?” Ramon asked.

“Everything. I understand that you employ quite an office force, for an attorney who has so recently been admitted to the bar, and who has necessarily had little time yet to build up an extensive practice. There may be a spy in your office––remember that as Miss Lawton’s fiancÉ and her only protector in this crisis, you are the one whom they would safeguard themselves against primarily. When I called you up this morning, to ask you to come here, you very indiscreetly mentioned my name over the telephone. Your entire office force will know that you have been to consult me––this letter will throw them off the track should there be a spy among them, and will also give you a legitimate excuse to call upon me frequently in the immediate future. You realize that we also must safeguard ourselves, Mr. Hamilton.”

The young man reddened.

“Of course. I did not think––I called you by name inadvertently,” he stammered. “I’ll be more discreet in the future, Mr. Blaine.”

“Memorize the gist of the letter on your way to your office––particularly the name and address––and place it securely in your vest pocket. When you have left your office to go to Anderson & Wallace, destroy it carefully. You had best, perhaps, stop in the lavatory of some restaurant or public bar and burn it, or tear it into infinitesimal pieces. Remember that everything depends upon you now––upon your discretion and diplomacy.”

Hamilton followed Blaine’s instructions to the letter, 82 and an hour after he had left the detective he was closeted with the senior member of the firm of Anderson & Wallace.

“My dear Mr. Hamilton, we have had so little time,” Mr. Anderson expostulated. “Remember that Mr. Lawton’s death occurred little more than a fortnight ago, and even the most cursory examination has shown us that his affairs were in a most chaotic condition. It will take us weeks, months, to settle up so involved an estate.

“At present we can give you little information. It is by no means certain that Mr. Lawton was an absolute bankrupt––we have not yet assured ourselves that nothing can be saved from the wreckage. You cannot imagine how aghast, thunderstruck, we were, when this present state of affairs was made known to us. We have been Mr. Lawton’s attorneys for more than twenty years, and we thought that we knew every detail of his multifarious transactions, but for some reason which we cannot fathom he saw fit, within the last two years, to change his investments without taking us into his confidence––and with disastrous results.”

“Mr. Lawton was always conservative. He took no one fully into his confidence,” Ramon Hamilton replied guardedly.

“You knew, of course, that he had ideas about the disposal of his vast wealth which many other financiers would consider peculiar. He would never invest in real estate, to our knowledge. His millions were placed entirely in stocks and bonds, and for years he had stated that his object was, in the event of his death, to save his daughter and the trustees from unnecessary trouble over real-estate matters. This makes his later conduct all the more inexplicable. Mr. Mallowe has told me that 83 Mr. Lawton made several suggestions to him and to his associates, Mr. Rockamore and Mr. Carlis, to go with him into the unfortunate speculations which ultimately caused his ruin. They were far-seeing enough to refuse.”

“Just what were these speculations, Mr. Anderson?”

“I can’t tell you at this moment. You’ll understand that we don’t wish to make any statement until we can do so definitely, and we are still, as I said, quite at sea. We’ll try to straighten everything out as soon as possible, and give you and Miss Lawton a full report. In the meantime, why not consult Mr. Mallowe? He can give you more explicit information concerning the late Mr. Lawton’s speculation and final insolvency than we shall be able to do for some time; or possibly, Mr. Rockamore, or even Mr. Carlis might enlighten you. All three seem to have been more conversant with Mr. Lawton’s affairs than we, his attorneys.”

The dignified old gentleman’s voice held a note of pained resentment, with which Ramon Hamilton could not help but sympathize.

“I will adopt your suggestion, Mr. Anderson, and call upon Mr. Mallowe at once. I can no more understand than you can how it happens that Mr. Lawton should have confided to such an extent in his business associates, to the exclusion of you and Mr. Wallace––to say nothing of his own daughter; but doubtless there were financial reasons which we’ll learn. I will take up no more of your valuable time, but will try to see Mr. Mallowe immediately. If I learn any facts you’re not now in possession of, I’ll let you know at once.”

Mr. Mallowe, when approached over the telephone, welcomed most cordially the proposed interview with 84 Miss Lawton’s fiancÉ. When the latter arrived, he was greeted with a warm, limp hand-clasp, and seated confidentially close to the president of the Street Railways.

“Mr. Anderson did well to suggest your coming to me, Mr. Hamilton,” the magnate remarked unctuously. “I believe I am in a position to give you a more comprehensive idea of the circumstances which brought about my esteemed friend’s unfortunate financial collapse at the time of his death than my colleagues, because I was closer to him in many ways, and I am confident that he regarded me as his best friend. However, I don’t feel that I can, in honor, violate the confidence of the dead by giving any details just now––even to you and Miss Lawton––of matters which have not yet been fully substantiated by the attorneys. I know only from Mr. Lawton’s own private statements that he was interested, to the point one might almost say of mania, in a gigantic scheme from which we, his friends, tried in vain to dissuade him. He urged me especially to go in on it with him, but because of the very position I hold, it would have been impossible for me to consider it, even if my better judgment hadn’t warned me against it.”

“Can’t you give me some idea of the nature of this scheme?” Ramon asked. “I can’t believe, any more easily than Miss Lawton can, that there could have been anything that was not thoroughly open and above-board about her father’s dealings. Surely, there can be no reason for this extraordinary secrecy, particularly as the newspapers had given to the world at large the unauthorized statement, from a source unknown to Miss Lawton or myself, that Pennington Lawton died a bankrupt!”

The young man drew himself up sharply, as if fearful 85 of having said too much, and for a moment there was silence. Then Mr. Mallowe leaned back easily in his chair and, removing his tortoise-shell rimmed eyeglasses, tapped the desk thoughtfully with them as he replied:

“That was regrettable, of course, Mr. Hamilton. It must have been distressing in the extreme to Miss Lawton, coming just at this time, but it would have had to be revealed sooner or later, you know––such a stupendous fact could not be hidden. There is no extraordinary secrecy about the matter. When the attorneys have completed their settlement of the estate, everything will be clear to you and Miss Lawton. I must naturally decline to give you any explanation which would be, just now, merely an uncorroborated opinion. I appreciate your feelings in this sudden, almost overwhelming trouble which has come to Miss Lawton, and I sympathize with both of you most heartily; but one must have patience. You will pardon me, but you are both very young, and that is the hardest lesson of all for you to learn.”

His watery eyes beamed in fatherly benevolence upon Ramon, and Anita’s fiancÉ felt his gorge rising. The older man reminded him irresistibly of a cat licking its chops before a canary’s cage, and it was with difficulty he restrained himself to remark coldly:

“You told me at the beginning of this interview, Mr. Mallowe, that I did well in coming to you, since you could give me a more comprehensive idea of the circumstances than anyone else, yet you have disclosed nothing beyond a few vague suggestions––to any other man I should have said, insinuations––and generalities which we were already familiar with. Can’t you give me any real information?”

“My dear boy, I intend to tell you all that I know and can verify.” The silky smoothness of the magnate’s tones had deepened in spite of himself, with a steely undernote.

“I don’t know when the project which spelled his ruin was first conceived by Mr. Lawton, but I believe that he started to put it into active operation over three years ago. He went into it with his usual cold nerve, and then, when the pendulum did not swing his way he kept heaping more and more of his securities on the pyre of his ambition and pride in himself, until he was forced to obtain large loans. That he did seek and obtain such loans I can prove to you at the present moment, in one instance at least, for it was through me the affair was negotiated. I think he fully realized his enormous error, but refused to admit it even to himself, and strove by sheer force of will-power to carry a hopeless scheme to success.”

“Sought loans! He––Pennington Lawton required loans and obtained them through you?” Ramon almost started from his chair. “Mr. Mallowe, you will forgive me, but I can scarcely credit it. I know, of course, that financiers, even those who conduct their operations on a far lesser scale than Mr. Lawton, frequently seek loans, but your manner and your speech just now led me to believe that you had some other motive in doing what you did for Mr. Lawton. From what you have told me I gather that it was owing more to your friendship for him, than to your financial relations, that he called upon you at that time.”

“And it was to my friendship at that time that he appealed, Mr. Hamilton.”

“Appealed? I cannot imagine Pennington Lawton appealing to any man. Why should he appeal to you?”

“Because, my dear boy, he was in a mighty bad fix when he had need to call upon me. Oh, by the way, I have the letter here in my safe––I found it only the other day.”

“The letter? What letter?”

“The letter Mr. Lawton wrote me from Long Bay asking me to get Mr. Moore’s help in the matter––here it is.”

Mallowe went to his safe, and opening it, withdrew from an inner drawer a paper which he presented to the young lawyer. After a cursory examination Ramon placed it upon the desk before him, and turning to Mr. Mallowe said:

“I am awfully sorry to have annoyed you with this matter, but you understand exactly how Miss Lawton and I feel about it––”

“Of course, Mr. Hamilton, I realize the situation fully. I am glad to have had this opportunity to explain to you how the matter stood as far as I personally was concerned. You know I will do anything that I can for Miss Lawton and I trust that you will call upon me.”

He rose with ponderous significance as if to state tacitly that the interview was at an end, but the younger man did not stir from his chair.

“This letter came to you––when did you say, Mr. Mallowe?”

“When Pennington Lawton and his daughter were at The Breakers at Long Bay, about two years ago last August, as nearly as I can remember.”

“If you still had the envelope, we could obtain the exact date from the postmark,” Ramon suggested significantly. “The letter I see is only headed ‘Saturday.’”

“Yes, it is unfortunate that I did not keep it,” the magnate retorted a little drily. “It was by the merest, most fortunate chance that the letter itself came to light. However, I cannot see at this late date what difference it could possibly make when the letter was mailed, since it establishes beyond any possibility of doubt the fact that it was mailed. As to the matter of the negotiation of the loan, I would prefer that you apply to Mr. Moore himself for the particulars concerning it. I am sure that he will be quite as glad as I have been to give you such definite information as he possesses.”

This time the dismissal could not be ignored, and Ramon Hamilton took his departure, but not before he had marked well the particular drawer within the safe from which the letter had been taken.

As he went down the corridor, a saucy, red-cheeked young woman with business briskness in her manner came from an inner office and smiled boldly at him. She was Loretta Murfree, the new filing clerk who had been installed only that morning in Mr. Mallowe’s office.

Had Ramon known her to be the protÉgÉe of Anita Lawton and the spy of Henry Blaine, he might have glanced at her a second time.

The young man proceeded straight to the offices of Charlton Moore, the banker, and found that an interview was readily granted him. Mr. Moore remembered the incident of the loan, and his private accounts showed that it had been made on the sixteenth of August two years previously.

“Mr. Mallowe arranged the matter with you for Mr. Lawton, did he not?” Ramon asked.

“Yes, it was a purely confidential affair. Mr. Carlis came with him to interview me. They did not at first tell me that Mr. Lawton positively desired the loan, 89 but they made tentative arrangements asking if I would be in a position to give it to him should he desire it, and they said they came to me at this early date desiring to make no definite statement. Mr. Lawton had told them that once before I had accommodated him by carrying a note confidentially at his request. Of course I did not care to commit myself, as you can readily understand, Mr. Hamilton, until I was assured the proposition was bona fide.

“Mr. Mallowe and Mr. Carlis suggested that I call Mr. Lawton up on the private wire in his office, but the matter was so delicate that as long as he had not come to me in person I did not care to telephone him. Mr. Mallowe showed me a letter which he had recently received from Pennington Lawton corroborating his statement. But in the matter of the amount desired we could not definitely distinguish the figures. Mr. Mallowe was sure that it was three hundred and fifty thousand dollars. Mr. Carlis was equally certain that it was three hundred and eighty-five thousand. To make certain of the matter they called Mr. Lawton up from my office here in my presence, and he stated that the sum desired was three hundred and fifty thousand dollars. There was only one odd thing about the entire transaction, and that was a remark Mr. Mallowe made as he was leaving. After the negotiations had been completed he turned and said, ‘You understand, Mr. Moore, that Mr. Lawton is so careful, so secretive, that he does not wish this matter ever mentioned to him personally, even if you think yourself absolutely alone with him.’”

“Mr. Lawton was a very peculiar man in many ways,” Ramon said meditatively. “His methods of conducting his affairs were not always easily understood. The negotiations were then completed shortly thereafter?”

“Yes, within a few days. I turned the amount required over to Mr. Mallowe and Mr. Carlis, and accepted Mr. Lawton’s note. I will show it to you if you care to see it.”

“That will not be necessary, Mr. Moore, but I am going to make a request that may seem very strange to you. Should it be necessary, would you be willing to show that note to some one whom I may bring here to you––some one who may prefer not to see you personally, but merely to be permitted to examine the note in the presence of some responsible people of your own choosing?”

“Certainly, Mr. Hamilton. I think I can safely promise that. But what does it mean––is there anything wrong with Pennington Lawton’s note?”

“Not that I am aware of, Mr. Moore,” Ramon answered, laughing rather shortly. “I am unable to explain just now, but I think the name of Pennington Lawton carries with it a sufficient guarantee that the note will be honored when it is presented.”

An hour later, at the close of the busiest day he had experienced since his graduation from the law school, young Hamilton presented himself at Henry Blaine’s office. The detective listened in silence to his story, and at its conclusion remarked quietly: “You did well, Mr. Hamilton. I am going to call one of my operatives and ask you to repeat to him in detail the location of that safe in Mallowe’s office and the drawer which contains Mr. Lawton’s letter from Long Bay.”

“Anyone would think you meant to steal it, Mr. Blaine.”

Young Hamilton’s laugh was now unrestrained. “There couldn’t possibly be anything wrong with the note or the entire transaction. Mr. Moore proved that 91 when he told me how Mr. Mallowe and Carlis called up Mr. Lawton in his presence on his private wire and discussed the negotiations.”

“Are you sure that they did, Mr. Hamilton?” The detective suddenly leaned forward across his desk, his body tense, his eyes alight with fervid animation. “Are you sure Pennington Lawton ever received that message?”

“He must have. According to Mr. Moore, the two men used Mr. Lawton’s private wire, the number of which was known only to a few of his closest intimates and which of course was not listed.”

“But some one who knew that the telephone message was coming might readily have been in Lawton’s office seated at his desk, alone, and replied to it in the financier’s name. Do you understand, Mr. Hamilton? The note may be a forgery, the letter may be a forgery; that we shall soon know. If it is, and the money so obtained from Moore has been converted to the use of the three confederates whom we suspect to have formed a conspiracy to ruin Miss Lawton, then her father’s entire fortune might have been seized upon in virtually the same way.”

Henry Blaine rose and paced back and forth as if almost oblivious of the other’s presence. “The mortgage of his was forged––we have proved that,” he continued. “Why, then, should not every other available security have been stolen in practically the same way?” he continued.

“But how would anyone dare? The whole thing is too bare-faced,” Ramon expostulated. “A man like Mr. Moore could not have been imposed upon by a mere forgery.”

“But if that note proves to be a forgery, Mr. Hamilton, 92 and the letter as well––we shall have picked up a tangible clue at last. I think I am beginning to see daylight.”

Late that night in the huge suite of offices of President Mallowe of the Street Railways, a very curious scene took place. The stolid watchman who had been on uneventful duty there for twenty years had made his rounds for the last time. With superb nonchalance, he settled himself for his accustomed nap in his employer’s chair. From the stillness and gloom of the semi-deserted office-building two stealthy figures descended swiftly upon him, their feet sinking noiselessly into the rich pile of the rugs. A short, silent struggle, a cloth saturated with chloroform pressed heavily over his face, and the guardian of the premises lay inert. The shorter, more stocky of the two nocturnal visitors, without more ado switched on a pocket electric light and made a hasty but thorough survey of the room. The taller one shrank back inadvertently from the drug-stilled body in the chair, then resolutely turned and knelt beside his companion before the safe. He dreaded to think of what discovery might mean. If he, Ramon Hamilton, were to be caught in the act of burglarizing, his career as a rising young lawyer would be at an end. The risk indeed was great, but he had promised Henry Blaine every aid in his power to help the girl he loved.

After a minute examination, the operative proceeded to work upon the massive safe door. With the cunning of a Jimmy Valentine he manipulated the tumblers. Ramon Hamilton, his discomfiture forgotten, watched with breathless interest while the keen, sensitive fingers performed their task. Soon the great doors swung noiselessly back and the manifold compartments within were revealed.

The young lawyer pointed out the drawer from which he had seen President Mallowe remove the letter that morning, and it, too, yielded quickly to the master-touch of the expert. There, on the very top of a pile of papers, lay the written page they sought.

“He’ll be all right. We haven’t done for him, have we?” Ramon Hamilton whispered anxiously, pointing to the watchman’s unconscious form, as, their mission accomplished, they stole from the room.

“Surest thing you know. He’ll come to in half an hour, none the worse,” the operative responded. “We made a good clean job of it.”

Henry Blaine could hardly suppress his elation when they laid the letter before him on their return to his office.

“It’s a forgery, just as I suspected,” he exclaimed, with supreme satisfaction. “Look, Hamilton; I’ll show you how it was done.”

“It is incredible. I can scarcely believe it. I know Pennington Lawton’s handwriting as well as I know my own, and I could swear that his fingers guided the pen. His writing was as distinctive as his character.”

“It’s that very fact,” the detective returned, “which would have made it easier to copy; but, as it happens, you are partially right. This was not a forgery in the ordinary sense. Those are Pennington Lawton’s own words before you, in his own handwriting.”

“Then how––” the young lawyer inquired, in a bewildered tone.

Henry Blaine smiled.

“You do not intend to specialize in criminal law, do you, Mr. Hamilton?” he remarked whimsically. “If you do, you will have to be up in the latest tricks of the trade. The man who forged this letter––the same man, 94 by the way, forged the signature on that mortgage––accomplished it like this: He took a bundle of Mr. Lawton’s old letters, cut out the actual words he desired, and pasted ’em in their proper order on the letter paper. Then he photographed this composite, and electrotyped it––that is, transferred it to a copperplate, and etched it. Then he re-photographed it, and in this way got an actual photograph of a supposedly authentic communication. There is only one man in this country who is capable of such perfect work. I know who that man is and where to find him.”

“Then if you can locate him before he skips, and make him talk, you will have won the victory,” Ramon exclaimed, jubilantly.

But the detective shook his head.

“The time is not yet ripe for that. The man is, in my estimation, a mere tool in the hands of the men higher up. He may not be able to give us any actual proof against them, and our exposure of him will only tip them off––put ’em on their guard. We needn’t show our hand just yet.”

“What’s the next move to be, then?” the young lawyer asked. “I don’t mean, of course, that I wish to inquire into your methods of handling the case––but have you any further commissions for me?”

“Only to accompany me to-morrow morning to the office of Charlton Moore and let me examine that note which Mr. Lawton presumably gave two years ago. Afterward, I have four little amateur detectives of mine to interview––then I think we’ll be able to proceed straight to our goal.”

The note also, as Henry Blaine had predicted, proved to be a forgery and to have been executed by the same hand as the letter.

The detective betrayed to the unsuspecting banker no sign of his elation at the discovery, but following their interview he returned to his office and sent for the four young girls whom he had taken from the Anita Lawton Club and installed in the offices of the men he suspected.

The first to respond was Margaret Hefferman, who had been sent as stenographer to Rockamore, the promoter.

“You followed my instructions, Miss Hefferman,” asked Blaine. “You kept a list for me of Mr. Rockamore’s visitors?”

“Yes, sir. I have it here in my bag. I also brought carbon copies of two letters which Mr. Rockamore dictated and which I thought might have some bearing on the matter in which you are interested––although I could not quite understand them myself.”

“Let me see them, please.”

Blaine took the documents and list of names, scanning them quickly and sharply with a practised eye. The names were those of the biggest men in the city––bankers, brokers, financiers and promoters. Among them, that of President Mallowe and Timothy Carlis appeared frequently. At only one did Henry Blaine pause––at that of Mark Paddington. He had known the man as an employee of a somewhat shady private detective agency several years before and had heard that he had later been connected in some capacity with the city police, but had never come into actual contact with him.

What business could a detective of his caliber have to do with Bertrand Rockamore?

The letters were short and cryptic in their meaning, and significant only when connected with those to whom 96 they were addressed. The first was to Timothy Carlis; it read:

The second was addressed to Paddington:

“You have done well, Miss Hefferman,” said Blaine as he looked up from the last of the letters. “I will keep these carbon copies and the list. Let me know how often Mr. Mallowe and Timothy Carlis call, and try particularly to overhear as much as possible of the man Paddington’s conversation when he appears.”

When the young stenographer had departed, Fifine DÉchaussÉe appeared. She was the governess who had been sent to the home of Doctor Franklin, ostensibly to care for his children, but in reality to find, if possible, what connection existed between Carlis, Mallowe, Rockamore and himself. The young Frenchwoman’s report was disappointingly lacking in any definite result––save one fact. The man Paddington had called twice upon the minister, remaining the second time closeted with him in his study for more than an hour. Later, he had intercepted her when she was out with the children in the park; but she had eluded his attentions.

“I wish you hadn’t done so. If he makes any further attempt to talk with you, Mademoiselle DÉchaussÉe, encourage him, draw him out. If he tries to question you about yourself and where you came from, don’t mention 97 the Anita Lawton Club, but remember his questions carefully and come and tell me.”

“Certainly, m’sieur, I shall remember.”

Agnes Olson and Laurette Murfree, the switchboard operator to Carlis and filing clerk to Mallowe, respectively, added practically the same information as had the two preceding girls. Mark Paddington, the detective, had been in frequent communication with each of their employers. When the young women had concluded their reports and gone, Blaine telephoned at once to Guy Morrow, his right-hand operative, and instructed him to watch for Paddington’s appearance in the neighborhood of the little house in the Bronx, where they had located Brunell, the one-time forger.