Harvey Hamilton struck a match, after he had unlocked the door of his room and stepped inside. He lighted the gas and seated himself beside the stand in front of the mirror, to wait the brief interval. He continually glanced at his watch and twice held it to his ear to make sure it had not stopped. At three minutes to nine, he slipped it into his pocket, leaned back and listened.

“I shall soon hear his footstep,” was his thought; “everything is so still that if he comes in his stocking feet it will be perceptible on the bare floor——”

But, though the listening youth had not caught the slightest noise, he now heard a gentle tap, tap. He stepped hastily across the room and drew the door open. The gas light in the apartment showed the man in gray wrapped in the fainter illumination of the hall around and behind him. He did not speak until he had stepped inside. Then in the lowest and softest of voices he said:

“If you don’t mind,” gently turning the key in the closed door, and stepping forward so as to be as far as possible from the threshold. As if still uneasy, he glanced under the bed as his head came on a level with the post. Then he rose and peeped into the closet, where nothing hung but the outer coat of the rightful occupant.

“You will excuse me, Harvey, but I must make sure we are alone,” said the man apologetically.

The host felt a touch of surprise at being addressed by his given name, but smiled as he also seated himself, with only the width of the little stand in the middle of the room between them.

“You need have no misgivings, sir; we are as much alone as if we were a mile high in my aeroplane.”

Asking permission, the guest lighted a cigar and hitched as near as he could to the young man.

“You were surprised to receive that note from me?”

“My surprise was due as much to the style of delivery as to its contents. Why didn’t you use your tongue instead of your pencil?”

“Two men in the room were watching me.”

“Didn’t they see you flip the paper?”

“No; without looking directly at them I knew when their heads were turned and they were occupied with that dispute in the bar-room. Then it was that the bit of paper which I was holding and awaiting my chance, dropped on the page of your note-book. Had I spoken, they would have heard me, though they might not have understood the words, but no sound was made by the tiny missive.”

“It would have been natural for me to betray you by my surprise, and to open the fragment and read it at the time their attention came back to the room in which we were all sitting.”

“I knew you were not that kind of a young man.”

The compliment did not wholly please Harvey.

“How could you know that? What means had you of learning anything about me? I noticed that you know my first name.”

“The hotel register told me that you are Harvey Hamilton, from Mootsport, New Jersey; a little study of you when you did not suspect what I was doing imparted the rest. We detectives become skilful in reading character.”

“So you are a detective?” said Harvey in surprise, such a thought never having come to him until this announcement was made.

“That is my profession, but you are the only person in Chesterton who suspects anything of the kind.”

“You mean you believe so, but, brilliant as are detectives—that is some of them—they occasionally make mistakes.”

“They would not be human if they did not.”

“But some blunder less than others. You signed your note with your initials, ‘S. P.’ I have some curiosity to know what they stand for.”

“The hotel register would have told you.”

“But I had not enough interest to look; I feel different now.”

“You may call me Simmons Pendar.”

“Knowing at the same time that it is not your real name.”

“But will serve as well as any other.”

“I am sure I have no objection; well, Mr. Simmons Pendar, I am in my room to keep the appointment you requested. I await your pleasure.”

It may be said that the professional detective, as he announced himself, was somewhat surprised by his reception. He supposed that his host—inasmuch as he was only a boy—would be markedly impressed when he learned the profession of his caller, but he seemed almost indifferent. Pendar was pleased, for it helped to confirm the opinion he had formed of the mental acuteness of the lad.

“I have no intention of assuming the mysterious, Harvey, as some people are fond of doing. Since I have told you I am a detective, you naturally wonder what possible business I can have with you.”

“You guessed right the first time.”

“I assume that you are willing to aid me in the cause of justice.”

“You have no right to assume that, for our ideas of justice, as you term it, may differ.”

The visitor laughed, but without the least noise.

“Well said! But I am sure we shall agree in this business.”

“That remains to be seen.” And Harvey continued his attitude of close attention. Detective Pendar came to the point with a rush:

“Some weeks ago Grace Hastings, the five-year-old daughter of the wealthy Mr. and Mrs. Horace Hastings, of Philadelphia, was stolen by members of the Italian Black Hand, who hold her for a heavy ransom. Perhaps you read the account?”

“I did,” replied Harvey, compressing his lips as his eyes flashed; “I was never so angered in my life. This kidnapping business has become so common during the last few years that I should like to help in burning some of the Mafia and Black Hand devils at the stake. There’s more excuse for such punishment than for burning those black imps in the South.”

The youth was so wrought up that he bounded to his feet and paced rapidly up and down the room. His caller coolly watched him and remained silent. The result of his revelation was what he wished it to be. The leaven was working. When Harvey became calmer, he resumed his seat, but his white face betrayed his tense emotion.

“Would you like to help to rescue the little girl and bring the scoundrels to justice?”

“I would give anything in the world for the chance.”

“You have it!”

“What do you mean?” demanded Harvey, bounding to his feet again.

“Just what I said; pull yourself together and listen.”

“Don’t keep me waiting.”

“You are making an excursion through the air with your aeroplane; this fact gives you an advantage which may prove a deciding one. I need not dwell on the grief of the parents of the little one, which is worse than death itself could cause. They will give any amount of money to recover their only child from the grip of those wretches. They have employed many detectives in searching for her; I have been doing nothing else for six weeks.”

“Why don’t they pay the ransom? That has been done in other cases, with the result of recovering the stolen one.”

“The father wished to pay the demand as soon as it came to him, but somebody or something has convinced him that it will prove only the first of other demands still more exorbitant, with the recovery of the child much in doubt.”

“Has no clue been obtained as to the whereabouts of the little girl?”

“There’s been no end of clues, but they lead nowhere. The mother in her frantic grief insists that her husband shall pay the price without more delay, and I believe he will not hold out much longer, satisfied that it is the only hope left to him.”

“But how can I give any help with my aeroplane?”

“I have reason to think the gang has its headquarters not many miles from this place.”

Harvey looked his astonishment.

“If that is true, what prevents you from running them down?”

“An almost insurmountable difficulty faces me. I am the only searcher who holds this theory, as I am the only one who has reason for it. But it is diamond cut diamond. These miscreants are alert, shrewd and cunning to the last degree. They have their watchers out, and upon the first sign of danger they will signal the others, who will make a lightning change of base, taking the child with them.”

“Have you any idea of the spot where they are?”

“Only that it is several miles away, in the depth of the forest which covers so large an extent of this mountainous country.”

“Then why in heaven’s name don’t you and a posse rush them?” asked Harvey, impatient with what seemed the dilatoriness of the officer.

“No one man nor a dozen men could find their way over the faint trails in time to surprise the gang. They keep lookouts on duty day and night. There isn’t a stranger who comes to Chesterton that is not watched. Two of their men are in the hotel this minute; they have had you and even your stupid colored youth under scrutiny.”

“Have they any suspicion of me?” asked Harvey with a grim smile.

“No; for you are too young and your actions are too open.”

“How about yourself?”

“I am hopeful that they are in the dark regarding me, though I am not positive; I am playing the role of a drummer for a hardware firm in New York. I have taken quite a number of orders, and all the time have been on the watch for a chance to go upon an exploring expedition through the surrounding wilderness. You understand the delicacy of my situation. A single attempt in that line, even if immediately abandoned, will give me away and end all possibility of my accomplishing any good. Still, I had made up my mind that the essay would have to be made, with all the chances against success, or I must abandon the business altogether. Your coming has raised the hope that you can aid me.”