  “You’re to stay for dinner,” a voice said, speaking from the shadows at the other end of the long room. As I looked toward it, Zizi’s little white face gleamed between the portiÈres, and in another moment she slid through and was at my side. “Miss Raynor says so, and Mrs. Vail adds her invitation. They’re going to keep Penny Wise when he returns, and Miss Raynor——” “Miss Raynor wants to thank Mr. Rivers for his good work,” and Olive herself followed in Zizi’s footsteps. She was smiling now, but her lips were tremulous and her eyes showed unshed tears. “Nothing to thank me for,” returned Case Rivers, quickly, “on the contrary, I want to apologize for such an exhibition of wrath before a lady. But I confess I lost all self-control when I saw that brute intimidating you. If you absolve me of offense, I am thoroughly glad I did him up! And you do?” “Indeed, yes!” and Olive’s frank gaze was sincere but sad, too. “I was terribly frightened,—and,—I am still.” “Why?” cried Rivers, abruptly, and then added, “but I’ve no right to ask.” “Yes, you have,” Olive assured him, “but—I’ve no right to tell you. Mr. Rodman holds a threat over my head, and—and——” Just then Wise arrived, and Mrs. Vail came into the room with him. Olive welcomed him gladly, and then, as dinner was announced, we all went to the dining-room. “No discussion of our momentous affairs while we eat,” Wise commanded, and so we enjoyed the occasion as if it were a social affair. The conversation was interesting, for Pennington Wise was a well-informed man and a good raconteur; Rivers proved to be most entertaining and clever at repartee; and though Olive was very quiet, Mrs. Vail kept up an amusing chatter, and Zizi was her own elfin self and flung out bits of her odd talk at intervals. We returned to the big library for coffee, and then, almost abruptly, Wise began to question Olive as to her adventure that afternoon. “Mr. Rivers was quite right,” he said, “in assuming the telephone call sent by Sadie Kent to her ‘mother’ was a trick. Mighty clever of you,” he turned to Rivers, “and it led to the arrest of Rodman. The woman called Mrs. Kent is not Sadie’s mother, but a companion in crime. For Sadie, ‘The Link,’ is a criminal and a deep one! But first, Miss Raynor, let us have your story.” “When I answered the telephone call,” Olive began, “a man’s voice said, rather brusquely, ‘We have Amory Manning here. If you want to see him, come here at once.’ I said,—of course, I was terribly excited,—‘Where are you? who are you?’ The voice replied, ‘Never mind all that. You have to make quick decision. If you want to see Manning, a taxi will call for you in five minutes. Tell nobody, or you will queer the whole game. Do you consent?’ I may not give his exact words, but that was his general meaning. I had to think quickly; I did want to see Mr. Manning, and I feared no harm. So I said I agreed to all the stipulations, I would tell no one, and I would go in the taxicab that would come for me.” “But you told me,” put in Mrs. Vail, who liked to feel her importance. “Yes,” went on Olive, “I felt I must leave some word, for I had an uneasy feeling that all was not right. If Amory Manning was there, why didn’t he telephone himself? But, I reasoned, he might be, well—in fact, I thought he was,—held for ransom, and in that case I was ready and willing to pay it. So, I said nothing to Zizi, for I knew she would tell——” “Wow! Yes!” came from Zizi’s corner, where she sat on a low ottoman. “And so, I went alone. The taxi was at the curb when I left this house. I got in, and was taken to the house in Washington Square. I felt no fear until, after Mrs. Kent admitted me, she showed me into a room where I found myself confronted by Mr. Rodman. Mrs. Kent remained with me, but I saw at once she was not friendly. “‘Where is Mr. Manning?’ I asked. Mr. Rodman only laughed rudely and said he hadn’t the slightest idea. And then I knew it was all a trap,—but I didn’t know why I was tricked there. And then,” Olive paused, and a deep blush came over her face, but she shook her head and went bravely on, “then he tried to make love to me. I appealed to Mrs. Kent, but she only laughed scornfully at my distress. He said if I would marry him he would protect me from all suspicion of being implicated in—in the death of my guardian! Of course, that didn’t scare me, and I told him I wasn’t suspected now, by anybody. Then he dropped that line of argument and told me if I didn’t marry him,—he would—oh, that part I can’t tell!” “Blackmail!” said Wise, looking at her intently. “Yes,” she replied, “and it was an awful threat! Then, he saw I was indignant and not to be intimidated—oh, I pretended to be much more courageous than I really was,—and he began to talk more politely and very seriously. He said, if I would call off Mr. Wise and make no further effort to run down my uncle’s murderer, he would send me home safely, and molest me no further. I wouldn’t agree to this; and then he grew ugly again, and lost his temper, and—oh, he talked dreadfully!” Olive shuddered at the recollection, and her lips quivered. With quick sympathy, Zizi moved noiselessly from her place, and, kneeling at Olive’s side, took her hand. With a grateful glance at the comforting little fingers caressing her own, Olive went on: “He stormed and he threatened me, and that Kent woman joined in and said terrible things! And I was so frightened I couldn’t pretend I wasn’t any longer,—and I didn’t know what to do! And then the bell rang, and Mrs. Kent went to the door, and as I looked hopeful,—I suppose, for I welcomed the thought of anybody’s coming,—Mr. Rodman threw a handkerchief around my mouth and tied it behind my head. ‘There, my lady,’ he said, ‘you won’t scream for help quite as quickly as you planned to!’ And I couldn’t make a sound! Then, when I heard familiar voices,—Zizi’s and Mr. Wise’s, I knew I must make myself heard, and with a desperate effort, I got out a groan or wail for help, though that awful man stood over me with his hand raised to strike me!” “You poor darling!” exclaimed Mrs. Vail, putting her arm round Olive, “it was fearful! Why, once I heard of a case like that—no, I read it in a book,—and the girl fainted!” “Well, I didn’t faint, but I almost collapsed from sheer fright lest I couldn’t make a loud enough sound to be heard by you people.” “Oh, we were coming!” said Zizi, “I saw by the old hen’s face she had you boxed up in there, and I was going to do some ground and lofty yelling myself, if Mr. Rivers hadn’t smashed in the door just as he did.” “I couldn’t hold back,” said Rivers, “I gave way to a blind impulse,—and I’m glad I did!” “I’m glad, too,” and Olive gave him a grateful smile. “But then,” cried Zizi, “he made you say you were engaged to him——” “Yes,” and Olive paled as with fear. “I can’t tell about that——” “You said you weren’t, and then he whispered to you, and then you said you were,” went on Zizi, remorselessly reviewing the scene. “I know it,—but—oh, don’t ask me! Perhaps, I’ll tell—later,—if I have to,—but—I can’t—I can’t.” Olive’s head drooped on Zizi’s shoulder, and the eerie little voice said, “There, there,—don’t talk any more now, Miss Olive, dear. Penny Wise, you carry on the conversation from this point.” “All right,” said Wise, “I’ll tell my story. George Rodman is in the hands of the police, but I doubt very much if they can prove anything on him. He’s a sly proposition, and covers his tracks mighty well. Moreover, as to the murder of Mr. Gately, Rodman has a perfect alibi.” “Your First Lessons in Sleuthing always say, ‘distrust the perfect alibi,’” murmured Zizi, without looking up from her occupation of smoothing Olive’s softly banded hair. “Yes,—manufactured ones. But in this case there seems to be no question. A Federal detective, who has had his eye on Rodman for some time, was in Rodman’s office at the very time Mr. Gately was killed.” “But Mr. Rodman went down on the same elevator I did, soon after the shooting,” I exclaimed. “How soon after?” “Less than half an hour. And Rodman got on at the seventh floor.” “That’s all right, the Federal Office man knows that. They went down together from the tenth,—Rodman’s floor,—to the seventh, and then after they looked after something there, Rodman went on down alone.” “All right,” I said, for I knew that Wise and the Federal Detective were not being hoodwinked by any George Rodman! “And here’s the situation,” Wise went on; “Sadie Kent is a German telegraph spy. She is called ‘The Link,’ because she has been an important link in the German spy system. A trusted employee and an expert operator of long experience, she has stolen information from hundreds of telegrams and turned it over to a man who transmitted it to Berlin by a secret avenue of communication. A telegram has been sent to Washington asking for a presidential warrant to hold her until the case can be investigated. She is also one large and emphatic wildcat! She bites and scratches with feline ferocity, and is under strong and careful restrictions.” “And she is the one,” I said, “whose identity we learned from Jenny—and,—oh, yes, whose identity you guessed, Mr. Wise, from some cigarette stubs, and——” “Oh, I say,” Wise interrupted me, shortly, “we must get the truth from her by quizzing, not by clews. We’ve arrested her, now, and——” Olive stirred uneasily, and Zizi, after a quick, intelligent glance at Wise, which he answered by a nod, rose to her feet, and urged Olive to rise and go with her. “You’re all in, Miss Olive,” she said, gently, “and I’m going to take you off to sleepy-by. Tell the nice gentlemen good-night, and come along with your Zizi-zoo. Upsy-diddy, now,” and smilingly, Zizi persuaded Olive to go with her. “You come, too, Mrs. Vail,” Zizi added, because, I noticed, of an almost imperceptible nod from Wise in the elder lady’s direction. “We just simpully can’t get along without you.” Pleased at the flattering necessity for her presence, Mrs. Vail went from the room with the two girls. “I’ll be back,” she called out to us, as she left the room. “She won’t,” said Wise, decidedly, after the sound of footsteps died away, “Zizi’ll look out for that. Now, Brice, I’ve important new information. I didn’t want to divulge it before Miss Raynor, tonight, for she has had about all she can bear today. But it begins to look as if Sadie Kent sold her stolen telegrams to Rodman, and he—can’t you guess?” “No,” I said, blankly, and Rivers said, “Tell us.” “Why, I believe he turned them over to Gately.” “Gately! Amos Gately mixed up in spy business! Man, you’re crazy!” “Crazy does it, then! Haven’t we positive proof that Sadie Kent was in Gately’s office the day he was killed?” “How?” I said, wonderingly. “Did she kill him?” “Lord, no! But didn’t I size her up from the hatpin? and didn’t your girl trace the powder-paper? and didn’t we see cigarette stubs with the S.K. monogram,—in Mr. Gately’s private office,—and his own cigar stubs there, too, as if she had been there in intimate chat!” “Are you sure about the powder-paper?” I cried, impressed by the realization of Norah’s hand in the discovery. “Yes; we know, at least, that she has bought them from that shop. You see, she has lots of money beside her salary from the telegraph company.” “Rather!” said Rivers, “if she’s selling Government secrets!” “Well,” I said, after the whole disclosure began to sink into my brain, “if Sadie Kent sat around in Mr. Gately’s office, smoking and chatting, with her hat off, and her powder-papers in evidence, she was pretty friendly with him!” “Of course she was,” and Wise looked grave. “That’s what I dread to tell Miss Raynor. For it implicates Amos Gately in some way; either he is mixed up in the spy racket,—or—Miss Kent was his friend—socially!” “Oh, come now,” I said, “don’t let’s say that sort of thing.” “But, my dear man, unpleasant though it be to assume an intimacy between the bank president and the handsome telegraph girl,—yet, isn’t that preferable,—to——” “To brand him with the shameful suspicion of receiving spy secrets!” Rivers completed the sentence. “Yes, it is! The most disgraceful revelations of a liaison would be as nothing compared with the ignominy of spy work!” “I know that,” I hastened to explain myself, “but I can’t connect either disgrace with Amos Gately! You didn’t know him, Wise, and you, Rivers, didn’t either. Nor did I know him personally,—but I did know,—and do know, that no breath of suspicion can be attached to Amos Gately’s whole career! Why, he was a synonym for all that is best in finance, in politics, in society! I’m glad you didn’t hint this before Olive Raynor! It would have crushed the poor child.” “She’ll have to learn it sooner or later,” and Wise shook his head. “There’s no doubt about it in my mind. You see, ‘The Link’ usually took her news to Rodman and he secretly, and by means of the secret elevator, carried it to Gately who gave it over to the agents of the German Government.” “Do you know this?” asked Rivers. “I couldn’t get Rodman to admit it, but when I taxed him with something of the sort, he flew into such a rage that I’m sure I struck the truth.” “Where’s Rodman now?” “The Department of Justice has his case in hand. They’ll look after him. But I don’t see how we can connect him with the murder of Gately. I don’t for a minute doubt he’d be quite capable of it, but he wasn’t there at the time.” “Was Sadie Kent?” and Rivers frowned thoughtfully. “Not at the time of the shooting. Brice, here, can testify to that.” “Not unless she was in hiding,” I said, “and she wasn’t, for I looked in the cupboards and all that. We seem to have proved Sadie there before the murderer was, but I don’t suspect her of shooting Gately.” “Nor I,” agreed Wise, “but it was unusual for her to go to Mr. Gately’s office. It must be that she had grown more daring of late, and had some hold over Gately, so that she felt safe in going there.” “Can’t they get all that out of Sadie?” “She’s a slippery sort. She pretends to speak frankly, but what she tells means little and is misleading.” “Where is she?” “For the moment, down at Kenilworth House. Detained there till they’re sure of the persons working with her.” “She’ll get away,” said Rivers, “she ought to be in jail.” Now it was a strange thing, but this casual prophecy of Rivers’ was fulfilled the very next day! I was in my office, absorbedly conversing with Norah on the all-engrossing subject of the Gately case, when Zizi dashed in. “Alone I did it!” she exclaimed, and tossing the folds of her voluminous black cape over her shoulder, she folded her arms and assumed the attitude of Napoleon; scowling from under her heavy black brows, though her eyes were dancing. “What have you done?” I asked, while Norah gazed enchanted at the dramatic little figure. “Returned the missing ‘Link’ to her rightful owners!” “What! Sadie?” “The same. You know, Mr. Rivers said she’d break loose from that Whatchacallit House, and make trouble—also, which she done!” “Tell us about it,” I urged. “That’s what I’m here for. Mr. Wise sent me to tell you that,—and a lot of other messages. Well,” and Zizi’s black eyes snapped with satisfaction, “somebody called this morning to see Miss Raynor. And that somebody was none other than Sadie, ‘The Link!’ She sent up a different name,—I forget what, now,—and Miss Olive went down to see her. And she blackmailed Miss Olive good and plenty! You see, little Ziz was listening from behind a convenient portiÈre, and I heard it all. The whole idea was that if Miss Olive would quit all investigations, there would be no tales told. But if she kept up her detective work,—that is, if she kept Mr. Wise on the job, then revelations would be made about her guardian, Mr. Gately, that Sadie said would blast his name forever. Olive seemed to understand just what these revelations were, for she didn’t ask, but she was scared to pieces, and was about ready to give in when I slid into the game. But,—before I joined the confab I called up Penny Wise on an upstairs telephone and invited him to come along hastily and bring a squad of policemen or something that could hold that ‘Link’! “Then I sauntered into the library, where the blackmailing session was being held, and I stood by. We had a war of words,—‘The Link’ and I,—but it didn’t amount to much, for I was really only sparring for time till Penny Wise blew in. But I kept Miss Olive quiet, and I gave ‘The Link’ a song and dance that made her think some! I told her we knew she wrote the blackmailing letter to Miss Olive, signed ‘A Friend,’ and that she could be jailed for that! She wilted some, but carried it off with a high hand and soon Penny came and he had his little helpers along. They were in uniform, and they seemed mighty glad to get back their long-lost friend and comrade, ‘The Link’!” “You clever little piece!” cried Norah, “to think of your getting that girl again, after she had broken loose! Didn’t they appreciate it?” “Yes,” and Zizi smiled, modestly; “but it’s all in the day’s work. I don’t care much about appreciation, except from Mr. Wise.” She had thrown off her long cloak, and her slender, lithe little figure leaned over the back of a chair. “But,” she cried, twirling round suddenly to me, “I did do one more little trick! When they were taking Sadie away, I sidled up to her, and—oh, well, I s’pose I am a direct descendant of some light-fingered gentry,—I picked her pocket!” “What did you get?” “Her pocket,—by which I mean her little leather hand-bag, was never out of her hand for a minute! The way she hung on to it,—fairly clutched it,—made me think it contained something of interest to our side. So I just picked it on general principles. And I got the goods!” “What?” cried Norah and I together. “Some stuff in code, or in cipher,—I dunno just what it was. But Penny took it, and he’s tickled to death to get it. Gibberish, of course, but he’ll make it out. He’s clever at ciphers, and it will likely be the final proof of ‘The Link’s’ perfidy,—and,—” here Zizi’s head drooped, and her eyes saddened,—“maybe it will show up Mr. Gately or——” “Or whom?” “You know! But,” she brightened again, “here’s something else yet! I’m on the job day and night, you know, and, if you inquire of me, I’d just as lief spill it to you, that Miss Olive is a whole lot interested in that fascinating Mr. Rivers!” “Oh, now,” and Norah looked reproof at the saucy, smiling girl, “Miss Raynor is the fiancÉe of Amory Manning.” “Nixy! she told me she never was engaged to Mr. Manning. And when I tease her about Mr. Rivers, she blushes the loveliest pink you ever saw, and says, ‘Oh, Zizi, don’t be a silly!’ but then she sits and waits for me to be a silly again!” “But she hasn’t seen Rivers half a dozen times,” I said, smiling at Zizi’s flight of imagination. “That’s nothing,” she scoffed; “if ever there was a case of love at first sight, those two have got it! They don’t really know it themselves yet, but if Amory Manning wants Miss Olive, he’d better come out of hiding and win her while the winning’s good! And it’s my belief he’d be too late now! And here’s a straw to show which way that wind blows. The picture of Mr. Manning that was on Miss Olive’s dresser has disappeared!” “That may not mean anything,” I said, for I didn’t think it right to encourage Zizi’s romancing. “But I asked Miss Olive about it, and she hesitated and stammered, and never did say why she had put it away. And, too, you ought to see her eyes smile when she expects Mr. Rivers to call! He’s making a lace pattern for her, and they have to discuss it a lot! OhÉ, oho!” The mischievous little face took on a gentle, tender look and Norah smiled with the sympathy of one who, like all the rest of the world, loves a lover. “But,” I said, musingly, “none of this brings us any nearer to the discovery of Amos Gately’s murderer, or to the discovery of Amory Manning,—which are the two ends and aims of our present existence.” “Did it ever occur to you, Mr. Brice,”—Zizi’s face grew very serious,—“that those two quests will lead you to the same man?” I looked at her,—stunned to silence. Then, as suddenly shocked into speech, “No!” I fairly shouted, “it never did!” |
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