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Ohio Place Names

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.
 "Aw, come on," said English. "I ain't had an auto ride since I landed."
His slightly foolish air was beautifully done.

Neither Jumbo nor Foxy liked the idea, but they liked less calling
attention to themselves by a discussion in the street. So they all piled in.
Jumbo gave me a number on Lexington avenue which would be about half
a mile North of where we then were.

There was a hole in the front glass at my ear for the purpose of allowing
fare to communicate with driver. With the noise of the engine, however, I
could hear no more than the sound of their voices. It seemed to me that both
Foxy and Jumbo were admonishing English not to drink so much if he
couldn't carry it better.

I found my number on a smallish brown stone dwelling facing the great

sunken railway yards, and drew up before it. It was one of a long row of
houses, all exactly alike.

As my fares climbed out, English said to Jumbo: "How long will we be

in here?"

"Not long," was the answer.

"Then wait," said English to me. A glance of intelligence passed between

us.

"You must like to throw your money away," grumbled Foxy, as they
mounted the steps.

They were admitted by a negro man-servant.

I examined the surroundings more particularly. The excavating of the

great yards opposite has damaged the neighbourhood as a residential district
and the tidy little houses were somewhat fallen from their genteel estate.
Small, cheap shops had opened in one or two of the basements, and beauty
parlours, or dry-cleaning establishments on the parlour floors. Only one or
two houses of the row retained a self-respecting air, and of these the house I
waited before was one. The stone stoop had been renovated, the door
handles were brightly polished, and the windows cleaned. Simple, artistic
curtains showed within. In fact it had all the earmarks of the dwelling of a
well-to-do old-fashioned family which had refused to give up its old home
when the first breath of disfavour fell upon the neighbourhood.

I should further explain that the houses were three story and basement
structures with mansard roofs over the cornices. At the corner of the street,
that is to say three doors from where my cab was standing, there was a new
building four stories high, which contained a brightly lighted café on the
street level and rooms above. In other words what New Yorkers call a
Raines' Law Hotel.

The three men remained inside the house about forty-five minutes, I
suppose. It seemed like three times that space to me, waiting. They
appeared at last, talking in slightly heightened tones, which suggested that
they had partaken of spirituous refreshment inside. Their talk as far as I
could hear it was all in respectful praise of a lady they had just left. She was
a "good fellow," a "wise one," "long-headed."

At the cab door they hesitated a moment as if in doubt of their next

move.

"It's early," said Jumbo. "Let's go back to the Turtle Bay."

The others agreed.

English let them get in first. "Back to the Turtle Bay," he said to me. His
lips added soundlessly: "She is here!"

When they got out again, English paid me off. His expressive eyes said
clearly that he wished to speak to me further. The others stood close, and we
dared not take any risk.

I thanked him, touching my cap. "Any time you want me, gen'lemen, call
up Plaza 6771," I said.

They went inside.

 I had given the first telephone number that came into my head. It was
that of an artist friend of mine who had a studio apartment on Fifty-ninth
street. I hastened up there in the car, and routed him out of bed. Artists are
used to these interruptions. I had a little difficulty, however, in making
myself known to a man half asleep. He was decent about it, though. He
gave me tobacco, and telling me to make myself comfortable, went back to
bed.

In an hour or so the telephone bell rang, and to my joy I heard English's

voice on the wire.

"This you?" he said. We named no names.

"I get you," I said. "Fire away."

He plunged right into his story and though plainly labouring under
excitement, was admirably clear and succinct.

"She is confined in that house. She was lured there this morning by a
forged letter from you instructing her to go there for certain evidence. I did
not see her. I understood from their talk that so far she is all right."

"The house is occupied by a woman they call Lorina or Mrs. Mansfield.

Handsome, blonde woman of forty; great force of character. She is a
member of the gang, perhaps the leader of it. Anyway, they all defer to her.
She has a better head than either Jumbo or Foxy. I was taken there to-night
for the purpose of having her size me up. Apparently she approved of me."

"I understood that the girl is safe until to-morrow morning. Then they
plan"—his voice began to shake here—"to—to do away with her."

"Unless I come across with the paper they want?" I interrupted.

"Whether you do or not," he said grimly. "They have no intention of

letting her go. They plan to get you, too, to-morrow."

"How?"

"I don't know. I was not consulted."

 "Go on."

"The—the job they are trying to force on me," he faltered, "is to dispose
of her body. They chose me because I am not suspected by you, not
followed. I am to carry it out of the house piecemeal. Oh—! it's horrible!"

"Steady!" I said. "I promise you that won't be necessary. Any more
particulars?"

"Mrs. Mansfield lives alone," he went on. "She has three coloured
servants, two maids and a man."

"Did you find out where they slept?"

"Yes. The two maids on the top floor in the front room, the man
somewhere in the basement."

"Are they in the gang?"

"No. They do not know that Miss Farrell is in the house. But the man, I
understood, could be depended on absolutely. Which means that he is ready
for any black deed. He is as ugly and strong as a gorilla."

"What about the other internal arrangements of the house?"

"On the first floor there is a parlour in front, dining-room and pantry
behind. On the second floor the front room is a sitting-room or office. The
telephone is here. Mrs. Mansfield sleeps in the rear room on this floor.
Between her bedroom and the office there is an interior room, and that is
where Miss Farrell is confined. This room can be entered only through Mrs.
Mansfield's bedroom."

"Did you notice the locks on the doors?"

"No. There was nothing out of the common. On the front door a Yale
lock of the ordinary pattern."

"Anything more?"
 "One thing. Mrs. Mansfield goes armed. She has a small automatic pistol
with a maxim silencer which is evidently her favourite toy. I hope I got
what you wanted. They were at me every minute. I could not look around
much."

"No one could have done better!" I said heartily.

"What do you want me to do now?"

"Where are you?"

"In my own boarding-house. The party at the Turtle Bay soon broke up.
The telephone here is in the restaurant in the basement, and everybody
sleeps upstairs."

"You had better stay at home until morning," I said, after thinking a
moment. "It is very likely that they are having you watched to-night."

"But I must do something. I couldn't sleep."

"There is really nothing you can do now. Stay where you can hear the
telephone and I'll call you if I need you. I'll call you anyway when I get her
out safe. If you do not hear from me by say, three o'clock, go to police
headquarters, tell them all the circumstances, and have the house
surrounded and forced."

"I understand."

"To-morrow morning if all goes well, you must go to work as usual. I

don't mean that we shall lose all our work so far if I can help it. They must
not suspect you."

"Don't take too big a chance, Ben, the girl——"

"Don't worry. The girl is worth fifty cases to me. But I mean to save
both."
 21

I went home for some things I needed, and in less than half an hour after
the telephone talk I was back in front of the Lexington avenue house, still at
the wheel of my taxi. I had, however, changed my clothes in the meantime.
I did not want the chauffeur's uniform I had worn earlier to figure in any
description that might be circulated in the gang.

Passing the house slowly I surveyed it from pavement to roof. All the
windows were dark. The basement windows were open, but were protected
as is customary by heavy bars. The first floor and the second floor windows
were closed. The two windows on the top floor which were above the
cornice, stood open.

Turning the corner, I came to a stop outside the rear door of the saloon I
have mentioned. It was after the legal closing hour, but they were serving
drinks in the back room. I went in and ordered a beer. The desk and the
hotel register were in this room. You entered from a narrow lobby from
which rose the steep stairs. I paid for my drink and took it. Choosing a
moment when the waiter was in the bar, I rose to leave. In the lobby I
turned to the right instead of the left and mounted the stairs. There was no
one to question me.

In one side pocket I carried a small but efficient kit of tools, in the other
a bottle of chloroform and a roll of cotton. My pistol was in my hip pocket.

I went up the three flights without meeting any one, lighted by a red
globe on each landing. There was a fourth flight ending at a closed door
which I figured must give on the roof. It was bolted on the inside, of course,
and I presently found myself out under the stars.

This building, you will remember, was half a story higher than the row
of dwellings which adjoined it. It was therefore a drop of only six feet from
the parapet of one roof to the parapet of the other. Easy enough to go; a
little more difficult perhaps to return that way. From the parapet I stepped
noiselessly to the roof of the first dwelling, and crossed the two intervening
roofs to the house I meant to enter. I had nearly two hours before Mr.
Dunsany would put the police in motion, ample time, I judged. Probably the
first few minutes in the house would decide success or failure.

There was a flat scuttle in the roof which, as I expected, was fastened
from within. I could have opened it with my tools, but it seemed to me
quicker and safer to enter by one of the windows in the mansard. In any
case I would have to deal with the maids on that floor, and it was likely they
slept behind locked doors.

The cornice made a wide, flat ledge in front of these windows. It was a
simple task to let myself down the sloping mansard to the ledge and creep
to the window. Had I been seen from the pavement across the way it would
have ruined all, but the street was deserted as far as I could see up and
down. There were no houses opposite.

Pausing with my head inside the window I heard heavy breathing from
the back of the room. I cautiously let myself in. Then I could distinguish
two breathings side by side, and knew that both women were sleeping in the
same bed. I got out my cotton and chloroform. Fortunately for me negroes
are generally heavy sleepers. I let each woman breathe in the fumes before
the cotton touched her face. They drifted away with scarcely a movement. I
left the saturated cotton on their faces without any cone to retain the fumes.
In this way they could not take any injury. The potency of the drug would
soon be dissipated in the atmosphere.

It was a hot night and the door of their room stood open. I didn't see until
too late, that a chair had been placed against the door to prevent the draft
from the window slamming it. I stumbled over the chair. It made little
noise, but the jar caused me to drop the precious bottle, and before I
recovered it the contents was wasted. This was a serious loss.

I crept down the first flight of stairs. This landed me on the floor where
the mistress slept. As I approached the door of her room a shrill yapping
started up inside. I cursed the animal under my breath. English had not told
me that the woman kept a dog. It made things twice as difficult. The noise
sounded through the house loud enough, it seemed to me, to wake the dead.
I heard somebody move inside the room, and I hastened down the next
flight of stairs, and crouched at the back of the hall outside the dining-room
door.

Over my head I heard the bedroom door unlocked, and presently the
upper hall was flooded with light. I was safely out of reach of its rays. I
offered up a silent prayer that the lady would not be moved to descend the
stairs, for I pictured her carrying the automatic with the silencer. True, I had
my own gun, but for obvious reasons I was averse to firing it.

She did not come down. The dog apparently was satisfied that all was
well, and ceased his yapping. From his voice I judged the animal to be a
Pomeranian. Mistress and dog finally returned to the bedroom and the door
was locked again. With the dog and the lock on the door my problem was
no easy one. I had to enter that way before I could reach my girl. She left
the light burning in the upstairs hall.

Before attempting to deal with the mistress it seemed to me necessary to

dispose of the negro in the basement. I went on downstairs not at all
relishing the prospect. There were swing doors both at the top and the
bottom of the basement stairs which had to be opened with infinite caution
to avoid a squeak. On the stairs between it was as dark as Erebus. On every
step I half expected to find the gorilla-like creature crouching in wait for
me, but when I finally edged through the lower door I was reassured by the
sound of a rumbling snore. The dog had not awakened him.

He slept in the front room. This had originally been the dining-room of
the house. I cautiously opened the door and looked in. A certain amount of
light came through the area windows from the street lamps. The negro's bed
was against the wall between me and the windows. These were the
windows which were heavily barred outside.

When I saw the bars and felt the door which was a heavy hardwood
affair, and had a key in it, I thought it would be sufficient to lock the man
in. You see I was pretty well assured that none of these people would care to
make a racket. However, there was another door leading to the pantry,
thence to the kitchen. This had no lock on it, and I was compelled to find
another means of confining him.
 Exploring the rear of the basement I came across a trunk in the back hall
with a stout strap around it. This I softly removed and appropriated. Going
on through the kitchen out into the yard I found stout clothesline stretched
from side to side. I cut down several lengths of it.

While I was in the yard I made an important discovery respecting the lay
of the back of the house. The lower story extended out some fifteen feet
above the upper floors. The mistress' windows therefore opened on a flat
extension roof. These windows were opened and unbarred. There was no
light within the room.

I returned with the strap and the lengths of rope to the negro's sleeping-
room. He was still snoring vociferously. He lay on his back with his brawny
arms flung above his head like an infant, and his great chest rose like a
billow with every inhalation. The bed was a small iron one with low head
and foot. It looked strong, but I knew that these things were generally of
flimsy construction.

First I laid my gun on the floor where I could snatch it up at need. Then
with infinite care I passed my long trunk strap under the bed and over his
ankles, and drew it close, but not tight. This was intended for a merely
temporary entanglement. He never stirred. I made a noose out of one of the
pieces of rope and passed it carefully, carefully over his two hands. During
this he began to stir. The snores were interrupted. I passed the rope around
the iron bar at the head of the bed, and as he came fully awake I gave it a
sharp jerk binding his hands hard and fast. I knotted the rope.

I flung a pillow over his head, and sat on it to still any cries while I made
a permanent job of trussing him up. His great frame heaved and plunged on
the bed in a paroxysm of brutish terror, finding himself bound. You have
seen a cat with a rope around it. Imagine a mad creature thirty times the
bulk of a cat. But everything held. The bed rocked and bounced on the
floor, but there were four closed doors between me and the woman sleeping
up-stairs, and I hoped the sound might not carry.

It was all over in a moment or two. The ropes were ready to my hand.
Every time he heaved up I passed a fresh turn under him. Presently I had
him bound so tight he could not move a muscle. True to the character of his
race, he gave up the struggle all at once and lay inert. There was a moment
in which he might have cried out when I changed the pillow for a gag made
out of the sheet, but by that time he was gasping for breath. I knotted the
gag firmly between his teeth. Smothered groans issued from under it. I went
over all the ropes twice to make sure nothing could slip. I expected, of
course, that he would wriggle out in the end, but I only needed a little
while.

Before proceeding further I gave my stretched nerves a moment or two

to relax. The big task was still to come. Finally I stole up-stairs again. When
I closed the doors behind me I could no longer hear the negro's smothered
groans. The house was perfectly quiet. As I softly crept up on all fours stair
to stair I was busily debating how to open the attack. Locked door, silent
gun and dog made the odds heavy against me.

By the time I was half way up the main stairway I had made a plan.
Rising to my feet I mounted the rest of the way with a firm tread. Instantly
the little dog inside broke into a frantic barking. I heard his mistress spring
out of bed. I hastily unscrewed the electric light bulb, and throwing a leg
over the banisters slid noiselessly down to the first floor again. As before I
sought the security of the back hall.

She unhesitatingly opened the door—she was a bold one. I heard her
catch her breath to find the hall in darkness. Her hand shot out, I heard the
click of the switch, but of course there was no light. Instantly she began
shooting. The light "ping" of her weapon had an inexpressibly deadly
sound. The bullets thudded viciously into wood and plaster. From the
direction of the latter sounds, she was shooting along the upper hall and
down the stairs.

I knew she had ten shots, not more, and I counted them. After the tenth,
running forward in the hall, I set up a horrid groaning. She was silent above.
I kept up the groaning, and threshed about on the floor alongside the stairs.

Suddenly she came running down. This was what I had prayed she might
do. She reached the switch in the lower hall and light flared out. Instantly I
sprang up the outside of the stairway, vaulted over the banisters and stood
half way up the stairs, cutting her off, I hoped, from additional ammunition.
 She stood at the foot of the stairs gun in hand, glaring up at me. I saw a
large, handsome woman with a rope of coarse blonde hair as thick as my
wrist hanging down her back and eyes like lambent blue flames. By her
snarl I saw that I had the advantage for the moment, but her eyes never
quailed. To give her her due she was as bold as a lion. I know of few other
women of her age who would look handsome under the circumstances. She
was wearing a pink negligee robe over her nightdress. Her feet were bare,
they were pretty feet, too. The little dog sheltered himself behind her skirts
barking madly. I saw the woman glance down the hall. No doubt she was
wondering why the noise didn't bring the negro.

"What do you want?" she demanded in a high and mighty tone.

"Never mind what I want," I returned. "Do what I tell you."

"If you let me go to my room I'll give you what money I have," she said.

"And load up again," I said smiling.

"You can watch me. I have two hundred dollars in the house. It's all you
get, anyway."

"That's not what I came for."

By that she knew me. She bared her fine white teeth and raised her gun.

"It's empty," I said laughing. "I counted the shots."

She swore with heartfelt bitterness like a man.

I drew my own gun. "This one is loaded," I said.

I descended a step or two to enforce my orders. I pointed the gun at her.

"Open the front door!" I commanded. "Go into the vestibule and close it
behind you."

My purpose was to lock her between the two sets of doors while I
searched for Sadie. She scowled at me sullenly, and for a moment I thought
I had her beaten; she seemed about to obey. But reflecting perhaps that I
didn't want to bring in outsiders any more than she, she took a chance.
Suddenly putting down her head she ran like a deer for the rear hall, the
little dog whimpering in terror at her heels.

The door at the head of the basement stairs banged open and she plunged
down, calling on her servant. I had to make a quick decision. The way was
presumably open to Sadie, but there were plenty of knives in the kitchen
and if she liberated the man I would have to fight my way out of the house
against the two of them. I ran after her. A rough house in the basement
followed, doors slamming, chairs overturned, and the ceaseless yelping of
the dog.

She ran into the front room, saw the negro's predicament, and ran back
through the pantries to the kitchen. I was close at her heels. She knew just
where to find her knife, and she was out of the room again by the other door
before I could stop her. She ran back through the hall to the front room,
slamming both doors in my face to delay me. She tried to lock the second
door, but I got my foot in it.

She flung herself on the negro, sawing at his bonds with the knife.
Fortunately there was some light in this room. I dragged her off the bed. I
had only one arm free on account of the gun. She tore herself free from me,
and turning, came at me stabbing with the knife. I thought my last hour had
come. I fired over her head. She ran out of the room.

I stopped to look at my prisoner's bonds. I found them intact. In bending

over him my foot struck something on the floor. I picked up her gun. She
had been obliged to drop it in order to use the knife.

I ran after her. As I put foot on the upper stairs I heard her slam her
bedroom door and turn the key. So there I had my work to do all over—but
not quite all, for I had the gun now, and it was hardly likely she would have
another.
 22

I hammered on the door with the butt of my revolver—a little noise more
or less scarcely mattered now, and commanded her to open it.

She was not so easily to be intimidated. Through the door she consigned
me to the nether world. "If you break in the door I'll croak the girl," she
threatened.

I believed her capable of it. Remembering the knife she carried, I

shuddered.

We spent some moments in exchanging amenities through the door. I

wished to keep her occupied, while I threshed around in my head for some
expedient to trap her.

"All right!" I cried, giving the door a final rattle. "I'll get the poker from
the furnace."

She laughed tauntingly.

Of course I had no such intention. I had suddenly remembered the open

windows on the roof of the extension. It seemed easier to drop from above
than climb from below, so I went up-stairs.

The room over Mrs. Mansfield's bedroom was unlocked and untenanted.
I took off my shoes at the threshold, and crept across with painful care to
avoid giving her warning below. Unfortunately the windows were closed. I
lost precious time opening one of them a fraction of an inch at a time.

Finally I was able to lean out. She had lighted up her room. I could see
the glow on the sill below. To my great satisfaction I saw that she had
pulled down the blinds, without, however, closing the window under me.
For while I looked the blind swayed out a little in the draft. Evidently the
possibility of an attack from that side had not occurred to her.

It was a drop of about fourteen feet from the window sill on which I
leaned to the roof of the extension below. I dared not risk it. Even suppose I
escaped injury, the noise of my fall would warn her, and the moments it
would take me to recover my balance might give her time to execute her
foul plan. I believed that she had my girl locked in the inner room (else I
should surely have heard from Sadie). This would give me one second,
while she was unlocking the door—but only one second.

The bed in the room I was in was made up. Always with the same
precautions of silence I fashioned a rope sufficiently long out of the two
sheets and the cotton spread. I fastened the end of the rope to the leg of a
heavy bureau beside the window, and carefully paid it out over the sill.
Before trusting myself to it I planned every movement in advance.

I must let myself down face to the building, I decided, until I had almost
reached the roof. Then I must drop, and with the reflex of the same
movement spring into the woman's room.

It worked all right. I was already inside when she turned around. It was
well that it was so, because the door into the inner room stood wide. I saw
my girl lying on a couch. Like a flash the woman had the lights out. Quick
as a cat she was through the door, knife in hand. But I had got my bearings
with that one glimpse. I was hard upon her. I flung my arms around her
from behind, pinioning her close. I dragged her back into the outer room.
She was surprisingly strong for a woman, but I was just a little stronger. She
spit out curses like an angry cat.

I dragged her across the room to where the switch was. I had to take an
arm from her to search for it. She renewed her struggles. It took half a
dozen attempts. Once she escaped me altogether. She still had the knife. I
do not know how I managed to escape injury. She slit my coat with it.

At last I got the blessed light turned on. She was still jabbing at me with
the knife, but I could see what I was doing now. The little dog fastened his
teeth in my ankle. I kicked him across the room.

Between the two doors I have mentioned there was a third door, which
evidently gave on a closet. It had a key in it. I dragged my captive to it, and
somehow managed to get it open. I flung her in, knife and all, slammed the
door, locked it, and leaned against the frame sobbing for breath. I was half
blinded by the sweat in my eyes. The woman was all in, too, or I never
should have got the door closed. For a while she lay where she had fallen
without sound or movement. When his mistress disappeared the dog ran
under the bed. His little pipe was now so hoarse he could scarcely make
himself heard.

Presently the woman recovered her forces. Springing up, she hurled
herself against the door with as much force as she could gather in that
narrow space. The door opened out, and the lock was a flimsy one. I saw
that I couldn't keep her there for long. I ran into the inner room.

My dearest girl was lying on a couch, fully dressed and unfettered, but
strangely inert, stupefied. I was terrified by her aspect. However, her body
was warm and she was breathing, though not naturally. She was not wholly
unconscious. Her head moved on the pillow, and her misty eyes sought
mine with a faint returning gleam of sentience. Obviously she had been
drugged, and the effect was just now beginning to wear off.

I could not stop to restore her there. I gathered her up in my arms,

snatched up her hat which was lying near, and ran out through the bedroom.
I had no more than got the bedroom door locked behind me, when the door
of the closet burst open, and the woman fell out into the room. She
immediately threw herself against the other door, but as regarded that, my
mind was easier. It was a much heavier affair, and it opened towards her. I
need not point out that there is a considerable difference, between bursting a
door out, and pulling it in.

I carried my precious burden down the stairs, murmuring phrases in her

ear that I did not know I had at my command. She commenced to weep, a
very encouraging sign. I believe I wept with her. She was dearer to me than
my life.

I paused at the front door to try to bring her to somewhat before

venturing out into the street. Unfortunately there was no water within reach.
I was afraid to take much time. The woman up-stairs had obtained some
kind of a weapon with which she was battering the door. In her insane
passion she had forgotten all considerations of prudence. She finally
managed to split one of the panels; the key, however, was safe in my
pocket. She hurled imprecations after us.

I opened the outer door a little, and the fresh air revived my dearest girl
marvellously. Presently she was able to stand with a little assistance. Her
first conscious act was to pin on her hat with a piteous assumption of her
usually composed manner. For a long time she could not speak, but she
knew me now, and leaned on me trustfully.

I knew how best to reach her. "Brace up!" I whispered urgently. "Pull
yourself together. I need you. Show me what you can do!"

She smiled as much as to say she was ready for anything. Such was her
temper.

We went out, closing both doors behind us. I fully expected to see a knot
of the curious on the steps, attracted by the strange sounds from within. But
the street was still empty. There must be a lot of strange things happening
that no one ever knows of. We did not meet anybody until we got around
the corner. Here a policeman stood idly swinging his club and staring at the
taxicab, speculating no doubt on the mystery of its apparent abandonment
and wondering what he ought to do about it. The back room of the saloon
was now closed.

I saluted him, inwardly praying that he would not be led to look down at
my feet. I had managed to keep my cap through all vicissitudes, but I had
no shoes on. I briskly opened the door, and helped Sadie in.

"Here you are, Miss," said I.

Then I ran completely around the car to avoid the bluecoat, and cranked
her. Even then I could hear in the stillness the muffled sound of the
woman's blows on the door. The policeman was apparently unaware of
anything amiss. Fortunately my engine popped at the first turn. The
policeman's suspicions of me were gathering, but he was a slow-thinking
specimen.

"Hold on a minute, fellow," he said at last.

 The car was then in motion, and I made believe not to hear him.
Apparently he did not think it worth while to raise an alarm.

I cannot tell you with what a feeling of thankfulness I left that

neighbourhood behind me.

I took Sadie direct to her sister's. We found that young woman in a pretty
state of fluster. She was of an emotional type, very different from the
matter-of-fact Sadie. Maybe she didn't give it to me for leading her darling
into danger! But I was happy enough to be able to take it with a grin. Sadie
by this time could speak for herself. She took my part.

I telephoned from here to English at his boarding-house as I had agreed.

I still had more than half an hour to the good.

He gave a restrained whoop when he heard my voice. "You've got her!"

he cried. "You're both all right?"

"Right as rain!"

"Ben, you're a wonder!"

At that moment I was quite prepared to believe it.

"How did you manage it?" he asked.

"Can't tell you now. The game is only starting."

"What am I to do?"

"Go to bed. Above all keep them from suspecting you. The whole case
depends on you now. I will write you care Dunsany's on Monday."

"Take care of yourself!"

"Same to you!"

Warning the girls to be ready to start for the country in an hour, I

borrowed a pair of brother-in-law's shoes and returned the taxi to its garage.
I then went home and washed and dressed myself in my own clothes.
Afterwards I got out my own little car and went back for Sadie. By this time
the dawn was breaking. It was Sunday.

I found Sadie quite her own self again, and flatly rebellious at being
ordered to give up the game and retire to the country. In vain I explained to
her that these people had their backs against the wall now, and that our lives
were not worth a farthing dip if they ever caught sight of us. Sister was now
on my side, not, however, without a few back shots at the one who had first
got her Sadie into the crooks' bad books. It was not until I said that I was
myself going to lie low for a while that Sadie gave in. I'm afraid at that, that
her opinion of me suffered a fall for the time being.

The dearest girl was furious when she learned that I had almost been
frightened out of my wits by the message from her they had sent me, so
much so that I had been prepared to drop the whole case to save her.

"That was what they were after!" she cried. "I had to write it, of course,
because she held a pistol to my head. But I was sure you would understand.
If I had thought for a moment that you would let it interfere with the case I
would have let her shoot."

I shuddered. One did not know whether to praise or blame such game
folly. However, I registered a little vow privately not to let Sadie's
enthusiasm lead her into danger again. Meanwhile I hugged her right there
with sister looking on. She promptly slapped my face—but not so hard as
usual.

I took the sisters to that same little sanatorium at Amityville, Long

Island, where Sadie had been before with Miss Hamerton. The doctor-
proprietor was an old friend of mine. A single warning word to him, and I
knew they would be as safe as I could guard them myself.

Notwithstanding Sadie's violent objections (she said she had been lured
to Amityville under false pretenses), I motored right back to town. I did
intend to lay off for a day or two but I had to put my office in order first. It
was about eight o'clock when I got back to Manhattan. I put up my car and
had an excellent breakfast. I thought if I was going to be plugged it might as
well be on a full stomach. I did not deceive myself as to the risk I ran in
visiting my office, but it was absolutely necessary for me to secure certain
papers and destroy others.

I took a taxi down and ordered the man to wait. I cleaned everything up
in case the place should be entered during my absence. What papers I meant
to take with me I deposited in a satchel, and took the precaution of
strapping it to my wrist. Then I locked up and returned down stairs. I found
that my chauffeur had moved away from the doorway a little, consequently
I was exposed for a moment or two on the sidewalk.

It was sufficient. I heard that deadly little "ping" and simultaneously a

sound like a slap on bare flesh. I did not know I was hit, but I fell down.
Then a pain like the searing of a hot iron passed through my shoulder.

"I'm shot!" I cried involuntarily.

I realised that I was not seriously hurt. However, I had no mind to get up
and make myself a target for more. I made believe to close my eyes, and lay
still. My mind worked with a strange clearness. I saw the woman across the
street. She was poorly dressed with a shawl over her head, but I recognised
the stature and the curves of my antagonist of the night before.

The usual gaping crowd gathered. Nobody had heard the shot but me.
While all eyes were directed on me the woman coolly walked away across
the park, tossing the gun into the middle of a bush as she went. I said
nothing. It was no part of my game to have her arrested.

I suspected that the openmouthed crowd surrounding me was full of

spies, so I made out to be worse hurt than I was, groaning and writhing a
little. The wound helped me out by bleeding profusely. One youth with an
evil face made to take my satchel as if to relieve me. The strap frustrated his
humane purpose. He was afraid to proceed further under that circle of eyes.

Somebody had telephoned for an ambulance, and presently it came

clanging up with a fresh crowd in its train. The white clad surgeon bent
over me.
 "I am not badly hurt," I whispered to him, "but please take me away
quickly out of this mob."

I was carried to Bellevue Hospital where I engaged a private room. My

wound, a slight affair, was cauterised—I had in mind the possibility of
poison, and dressed. Afterwards I enjoyed my first sleep in twenty-four
hours. I had left instructions that no one was to be admitted to see me, and
that no information regarding my condition was to be given out.

By the next day I was quite myself again. I had already seen the
reporters, and by the exercise of persuasion and diplomacy had managed to
keep the affair from being unduly exploited in the papers. The police, good
fellows, were hard at work on the case, but they could hardly be expected to
accomplish anything without the evidence which I did not intend to let them
have. The doctors who hate to see any one escape out of their hands so
easily did their best to persuade me to stop a while in the hospital and "rest"
but how could I rest with so much to do outside?

Having decided that I must leave the hospital, it was a matter of

considerable concern to me how this was to be effected without exposing
myself to a fresh danger. I had received a disguised telephone message from
English to the effect that they were waiting for me. I decided to confide in
the visiting surgeon, an understanding man.

"Sir," I said, "I am a private detective. I have a gang of crooks almost

ready to be rounded up. Knowing it, they are desperate. That is the
explanation of the attack on me. Now the chances are that the instant I step
outside the hospital I'll stop another bullet. What would you do if you were
me?"

"Call on the police," he said, of course.

"I can't do that without exploding my charges prematurely."

As I said, he was an understanding man. He didn't bother me with a lot

of questions, but took the case as he found it. After thinking a while, he
said:
 "How would it do if I had you transferred in an ambulance to my private
clinic on —— Street. You see you'll be loaded on out of sight in the hospital
yard here, and you will be driven right inside my place to be unloaded. You
lie flat in the ambulance and no one can see inside without climbing on the
step, and a surgeon sits there."

"Fine!" I said. "You're a man of resource."

He gave the order, and it was so done. Arrived at his private hospital I
dressed myself in street clothes, borrowing a coat to replace my bloody one,
and calling a taxi had myself carried to Oscar Nilson's shop.

23

I have mentioned, I believe, that Oscar Nilson was a wig-maker, the best
in New York. His little shop on a quiet side street North of Madison Square
is quaint enough to be the setting of an old-fashioned play. The walls are
lined with old cuts of historical personages and famous Thespians as
historical personages, all with particular attention to their hirsute features.
On the counter stands a row of forms, each bearing some extraordinary kind
of scalp. Oscar deals in make-up as a side line and the air bears the
intoxicating odour of grease paint and cold cream.

Oscar's business is chiefly with the theatrical profession, but many an

old beau and fading belle have found out that he knows more about
restoring youth than the more fashionable beautifiers. Oscar loves his
business. His knowledge, historical, artistic, scientific, is immense—but all
in terms of human hair. He can tell you offhand how Napoleon wore his in
1803 or any other year of his career, and will make you an exact sketch of
the toupee ordered by the Duke of Wellington when his fell out.

Oscar himself, strangely enough, or perhaps naturally, has next to no hair

of his own, merely a little mousy fringe above the ears. He has a jolly
rubicund face and is held in high affection and esteem by his customers. He
flatters me by taking a particular interest in my custom. I am the only one of
his clients in the criminal line.

He led me into one of the little cubicles where the trying-on takes place,
and stood off to observe me from between narrowed lids.

"What will it be now?" he said. "I was sorry to read of your accident."

"A mere trifle. What would you suggest? It must stand sunlight and
shadow, and be something I can keep up for a while if necessary."

"Let me think! Your head and face offer a good starting-point for so
many creations!"

"In other words the Lord left me unfinished," I said, teasingly.

"Not at all! I meant that in your case there were no awkward

malformations to be overcome."

From which it will be seen that Oscar is a diplomat.

"What would you say to a South American gentleman?" he asked. "New

York is full of them in the summer."

I shook my head. "No time to bone up a Spanish accent."

"An officer of a liner on shore leave."

"On shore they look like anybody else."

"Well then, how about an Armenian fruit peddler?"

"That would restrict my activities too much. I must be able to go

anywhere."

"I see you have an idea of your own," he said. "What is it?"
 "We've used several rough-neck disguises," I said. "Suppose you fix me
up as a swell this time. I have a mind to stop at a fashionable hotel."

"The very thing!" cried Oscar. "A curled toupee, slightly silvered; a wash
for the skin to give an interesting pallour; a little touching up about the eyes
for an expression of world weariness; waxed moustache, monocle——"

"Easy! The burning-glass would give me dead away. You have to be

born to that."

"Well you don't have to have the monocle," said Oscar regretfully. "But
it's very aristocratic. The costume must be exquisitely appointed—it will be
expensive——"

"Expense is no object in this case," I said.

He set to work and an hour later I left his shop a changed man. In the
event of such a contingency I had already secured from Mr. Dunsany the
name of his tailor, and I now left him a rush order for several suits.
Meanwhile I bought the best I could ready made. I went to the most
fashionable outfitters and invested heavily. Until they displayed their stock
here, I had no idea that men might indulge such extravagant tastes. All this
was to be sent to the Hotel Rotterdam where I engaged an expensive suite. I
believed that it would be the last place in town where the gang would think
of looking for me.

I wished to persuade them that I had been scared off. After having the
cryptogram receipt photographed, I returned it in a plain envelope to
Jumbo's flat. By telephone I instructed Keenan to discharge all the
operatives, close the Forty-second street office and advertise it for rent. This
place had outlived its usefulness. Jumbo, Foxy, et al., had proved
themselves more than a match for such operatives as could be hired.

This done, I went out to Amityville to spend a day with Sadie. I had
promised to lay off for a little, and anyway I had to wait until my new
clothes were done before being seen around town. After the mad excitement
of the past few days, we spent a heavenly peaceful interlude under the oaks
of my friend's big place.
 While I was out there an interesting report from my sole remaining
operative arrived.

REPORT OF J. M. #10

June 27th.

As soon as I heard that you and S. F. were all right I went to bed as you
instructed. It seemed to me that I had scarcely fallen asleep when I was
awakened by my landlady at my door to say that a man wanted to see me. It
was no more than daybreak then. Hard upon her knock Jumbo entered the
room. I had barely time to pull on my false hair and fix it. Hereafter I shall
have to sleep in it.

Jumbo was in a state of no little excitement. He gave me his version of

what had happened. Lorina, having apparently just escaped from her room,
had called him up about half an hour before. I am not sure but what Jumbo
came to me because she had suggested a suspicion of me. However, I think
it more likely that he just wanted moral support. He was badly frightened.
Jumbo for all his bluff, is not a strong character. He is dependent both on
Foxy and on the woman, and now seems disposed to lean on me. If he was
suspicious my sleepiness and bad-temper upon being awakened must have
reassured him.

I dressed and we went right up to the Lexington avenue house. Being

Sunday, I had the day to myself. Mrs. Mansfield had gone out leaving word
that we were to wait until she came in or telephoned. The maids believed
that she had gone to consult the police. These two were full of highly-
coloured accounts of the supposed robbery of the night before. The hulking
black man, however, was silent and sullen. He knew. I wonder what you did
to him. I don't think I ever saw a more repulsive human creature—or one
more powerful.

Foxy arrived shortly after we did. I am now admitted to terms of the

closest equality by these two. The understanding is that each knows enough
to the discredit of the others to ensure faithfulness all around. We all chafed
at the enforced inaction, but dared not go against Lorina's instructions. She
is the boss. The other two half expected the police to descend on the house
momentarily.

About ten o'clock Mrs. Mansfield returned in a taxi-cab. This taxi, by the
way, is her property and the driver is one of the gang. The woman was
handsomely dressed without disguise of any kind.

We had a conference in the sitting-room up-stairs. Mrs. Mansfield gave

us some further details of the previous night. As soon as she succeeded in
breaking out of her room after telephoning to Jumbo and Foxy she hastened
up to S. F.'s house, also to your place, both of which addresses she knew.
She said that she was disguised, so she must have some place outside where
she changes her clothes. She found she was too late at both places. You had
carried off S. F. in your automobile.

Mrs. Mansfield then went down to Fortieth street. From the park
opposite, she watched your office for four hours. You got inside too quick
for her, she said, but when you came out she spotted you. Her eyes gleamed
like a devil's as she said it. Fancy how my heart went down.

She had then changed her clothes and come straight home. She couldn't
tell how seriously she had wounded you. A general prayer went around the
table that it would be your finish. She said we should hear presently.

She seems to have an unlimited number of men subject to her orders.

While she waited for you at your office she had sent for several, and posted
them near. They mixed in the crowd that surrounded you when you fell.
One of them had been instructed to make away with your satchel. Another
was to follow the ambulance to the hospital. A third was to recover her gun
after the excitement was over and return it to her.

The first of these, an evil-looking young blackguard, came in while we

talked. He reported no success. The satchel was strapped to your wrist, he
said, and when he started to unfasten it the crowd began to murmur. He said
that you had been shot in the shoulder, and had been carried to Bellevue. He
gave it as his opinion that you were not as badly hurt as you made out. This
cheered me greatly. Bitter disappointment was expressed around the table.

Later another of Lorina's men reported by telephone that he had learned

through an orderly in the hospital that you had suffered only a slight flesh
wound, and would be able to leave the hospital next day. On hearing this
she gave her orders to have every exit from the hospital watched.
Instructions were to shoot to kill. If it can be found out in advance what
time you are going to leave, she means to be on hand herself.

As soon as I could get out without exciting suspicion, I sent you a

warning by telephone.

J. M.

#11

June 28th.

To-day I had to go to my work as usual, so I didn't see any of the gang

until night. In our present state of excitement and uncertainty we have
abandoned the Turtle Bay as a meeting place. I found my partners in
anything but a good humour.

In the first place they had learned through the friendly orderly that in
spite of all their measures, you had been safely spirited out of the hospital in
an ambulance. It was learned by way of the ambulance driver that you had
been carried to Dr. ——'s private hospital. It was then too late to do
anything. By the time they got there, you had left, and the town had
swallowed you up.

The entire strength of the gang, excepting me, has been devoted all day
to picking up your trail, so far without any success. They have watched all
your usual haunts, your flat, your restaurant, S. F.'s home and your office on
Fortieth street. Foxy brought in word that the International Bureau on