The Adventures of Russell Howard
Author: A E Jobson
Date: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Short fiction
Description: A dozen short stories featuring the Edwardian "adjuster', Russell Howard, and his colourful adventures. A cross between a private detective and an adventurer, Howard uses often dubious means to det things right. Contents 1: The Hercules Cameo 2: The Seventh Burglary 3: The Removal of the Millionaire 4: The Case of Lord Ponderry 5: The Scheming Lady 6: The Two Wax Candles 7: The Lady with the Pince-Nez 8: The Modern Highwayman 9: The Prince's Letter 10: The Man Who Stole the Child 11: The Fire Insurance Matter 12: The Open Shaft Stories sourced from various Australian newspapers published in 19

THE ADVENTURES

OF RUSSELL HOWARD

A. E. Jobson

(1875-1933)

1909

Contents

1: The Hercules Cameo

2: The Seventh Burglary

3: The Removal of the Millionaire

4: The Case of Lord Ponderry

5: The Scheming Lady

6: The Two Wax Candles

7: The Lady with the Pince-Nez

8: The Modern Highwayman

9: The Prince's Letter

10: The Man Who Stole the Child

11: The Fire Insurance Matter

12: The Open Shaft

_________________

1:  The Hercules Cameo

RUSSELL HOWARD was sitting in his study still idly fingering Lord Aberdare's card, when that gentleman was shown up. He rose as he entered.

"You have my card," said Lord Aberdare, "probably my name will be familiar to you."

"I am pleased to make the acquaintance of a gentleman who has taken so prominent a part in the politics of his country as you have," replied Russell Howard, "and I shall be glad to hear in what way I can be of service to you."

"It is not in connection with politics that I have come to see you," said Lord Aberdare, as he made himself comfortable in a huge, leather arm chair, "but my visit concerns a private matter. I have just come from Sir William Cheshunt, for whom you did some considerable service with reference to the Russian question some little while ago. I am troubled with a matter of private loss, and as the other circumstances surrounding it are extremely delicate I am applying to you for help."

Russell Howard's quick eyes had been flashing from point to point of his  visitor's features while he spoke with that, exactness and superfluity of wording so inseparable from some platform speakers. He seemed to be studying his voice, his gestures, his clothing, and even his thoughts, and bracketing them for future reference in a certain class at the back of that alert brain of his; a brain that he was constantly pitted against the cleverest men of all countries, and which seldom failed in an encounter. His was an unique profession. He half humorously spoke of himself as an adjuster of other peoples affairs, but in reality he was ready to accept a commission to deal with any matter requiring delicate handling, and which was beyond the ordinary man's capacity to pull through. He had had a University training, and had been called to the bar, but had not practised.

His own private income was too small to allow of gratifying his desires, so he had undertaken one or two cases for friends which they had regarded as hopeless and for which he was to be paid according to the measure of his success.

He had succeeded, and clients began to come to him with matters varied and diverse as the poles, and the glamour of this business of his had grown upon him, and his experience and the peculiar training to which he submitted  himself had so sharpened his powers that he felt himself competent to cope with any problem that might be presented to him.

"You mention a loss, Lord Aberdare," he said; "of course, I must tell you at the start that I place limitations upon my work. I do not profess to undertake detective work. it is a matter of tracing any missing article you will be better served by calling in some man of experience in this line―"

"No! my dear sir," broke in Lord Aberdare; "it is in connection with a loss, certainly, but not as to tracing. I have lost a valuable article! I am a collector of works of art, and have probably the most complete collection of cameos outside any museum; and the gem of them all― the one I prized most― was certainly the 'Hercules,' a sardonyx cameo measuring about five inches in diameter, bought by me at Christie's some eighteen months ago for 3,000 guineas, and now it has gone, and unless you can see your way to help me I fear it will be almost impossible to regain it.

"I know very well where it is, or rather where it is likely to be, for the man who stole it is Prince Max of Heinsel, Staten! Perhaps you will begin to see the awkward situation in which I am placed."

"I think I see the difficulty," said Howard. "Prince Max is a near relative of the Emperor, is he not?"

"That is it!" said lord Aberdare. "What am I to do? In the ordinary course I should appeal to the police, but of what use would that be in this case? It would doubtless raise a scandal in which my name would be as much besmirched as the Prince's, for it would be a matter of my word against his, and, besides, in the present state of affairs politically it would be unwise to being a charge against a man in so high a position, unless backed by exceedingly strong evidence, which I have not got.

"Again, even if I could obtain a warrant to search the Prince's palace at Staten, or any of his other residences, what would result? Nothing! It is not to is supposed that anything would be found. No! the situation appears to me to he hopeless, but I understand you have had success in cases apparently as impossible, and when I mentioned my trouble to Sir William Cheshunt― in the strictest confidence, of course― nothing would satisfy him but that I should appeal to you."

"It certainly is awkward," said Russell Howard, "but perhaps not hopeless. Anyway, it is a problem that takes my fancy, and you can depend upon it I shall not let it best me if I can possibly overcome it.

"But first for more particulars. Why do you suspect Prince Max of stealing your cameo?"

"Prince Max," replied Lord Aberdare, "was introduced to ne upon his arrival in England at the Prima Minister's reception, and, in the course of a short conversation, we found we had many points of interest in common, both of us being collectors― in fact, the Prince's collection was well known to me by repute before his visit. The outcome of this was an invitation to the Prince to examine my works of art, notably this cameo, of which I was extremely proud.

"One afternoon about three weeks ago, and the day before his return to his native country, the Prince came, and we spent a couple of hours in examining and discussing the contents of my museum. That evening and the next day my public engagements occupied the whole of my time, and it was not until the second day that I had leisure to look at some of my treasures. Almost at the first glance I noticed that the 'Hercules' cameo was missing. Nothing else appeared to have been disturbed, and nothing round about was tampered with. The case in which it was kept was of wood with a glass top. The front panel was movable and fastened with a lock. The case and lock were intact, and I remember locking it as I turned away to answer a question that Prince Max had put to me, and it was doubtless owing to my speaking to him that I did not notice my loss at the time; in fact, I was utterly unsuspicious and merely took care to lock up the cases I had opened without seeing if any of the contents had been abstracted. When I discovered my loss I made a thorough search of the place, and arrived at the conclusion that it had been misplaced, and that the room had not been interfered with since I had last been there."

"But," said Howard, "is there anything beyond this to make you think Prince Max grasped the opportunity offering to take the cameo?"

"Yes, since my loss, I have mentioned it to two or three friends― collectors also― and they have told me of two or three similar instances of valuable articles disappearing from private collections after having been examined by Prince Max. This confirmed my suspicious, and I feel certain that my cameo has been added to the collection of Prince Max of Heinsel, Staten, although as you see I have very little proof."

'The probabilities," said Russell Howard, "are that your view is correct, but you have certainly no evidence to go upon that you could use in a constitutional way to retrieve your loss. so that I think it would be permissible for me to go about the business in my own way, which possibly might not be regarded as being altogether legal."

"I had thought,'' said Lord Aberdare, with the air of a man advancing a practical suggestion, "of hiring a professional burglar to enter the Prince's palace and abstract the cameo."

"That," replied Russell Howard, with a slight smile, "would hardly be workable. You would have to find an Englishman who spoke German, or else, a German, who would also require to be an educated man to distinguish the article you require, a combination somewhat hard to find. You would also, to some extent, be at his mercy if he chose to blackmail you, for it would hardly do for the story to be told that a man of your position was an accessory to a burglary in a German palace. This matter, I think, resolves itself into a problem for me to deal with. What sort of a man is the Prince?"

"As regards his personal appearance, he is a man of medium height; dark, with close-cut, straight hair, heavy black moustache, and being extremely short-sighted, he always wears spectacles. In manner, he is a curious mixture of  affability and haughtiness, a desire to appear agreeable seeming to struggle with a natural aloofness of disposition. His eyes are somewhat shifty, and, when speaking to you, he is looking either round about or beyond you."

"And the cameo Is there any possibility of obtaining a copy of it that can be depended on. So celebrated a work of art has probably. been copied."

"Yes," said Lord Aberdare, "it has; there is a perfect facsimile in the South Kensington Museum, and I can give you a letter that will enable you to study it at your leisure."

"Then," said Russell Howard "I think that I may be able to do something for you; it will probably be a matter of a few weeks, and possibly I shall not communicate with you again until I have some news."

FOR TWO OR THREE days Howard was busy with enquiries and with a firm of jewellers. Although he was accustomed to recognise when he was being dealt with honestly, he always endeavoured to verify his clients cases by private enquiry. There was just the chance that Lord Aberdare, in some temporary aberration, was employing him to steal a cameo that had never been in his possession, but the few enquiries that he made set his mind at rest on this point. Part of his time was occupied in obtaining information of any sort as regards Prince Max and his castle at Staten, and, as a result of his visit to the jeweller's, he at last received a case from which he took an exact facsimile of the copy of the famous cameo in the South Kensington Museum. It was splendidly executed in a glass composition of two colours, and at first sight, must have born a close resemblance to the original.

At the end of that week Russell Howard had taken up his residence at Staten, and was occupying himself sketching in the neighbourhood.

He could have made his name as an artist had he adopted art as his profession, but he chose to regard it as a hobby. He painted to amuse himself, and in his own way, and used to say that he was thus more able to appreciate the countries through which he travelled, for no matter where he went and how dreary his surroundings they had always a certain amount of artistic value. Where one man found only ugliness and dreariness he found atmospheric effects that transformed the country around into beauty.

He was occupied in sketching the castle of Staten, and many exceedingly dainty water-colour drawings had he made, not only of the Castle and the grounds, but of some of the interiors, with the carved oak ceilings and tapestry-hung walls, and furniture dating back centuries.

Moreover, he knew how the interior lay of most of the castle; where this staircase led and where that corridor ran; which rooms were used and which not; where the servants were most likely to be met, and which doors should be used to gain access to the grounds. But with all his friendliness with the servants, with whom he talked and joked in German, he had not been able to obtain a glimpse of the Prince's museum.

Prince Max was a man of confirmed habits.  Every afternoon at three he strolled for half-an-hour alone the paths of the shrubbery, and during that time his gardeners and their helpers were at work in a far part of the grounds, that he might think in peace and quietness.

Russell Howard had watched him for several afternoons from afar, and now, as he could get no trace of the cameo by any other means, he meant to make the Prince himself show him the way.

A little before 3, therefore, he slipped quietly into the grounds by an unfrequented gate. He had not sketched that morning, but had stayed at his inn and read. There were one or two of the Prince's household about, but it was only a game of hide and seek for a while to arrive at the shrubbery unperceived.

He concealed himself among some thick bushes along the edge of a favourite path for the Prince's walk, and where he was assured he could not be overlooked from the castle.

Promptly at 3 he saw Prince Max arrive at the and of the walk, and for about a quarter of an hour he strolled briskly backwards and forwards along  by-paths at the distant end, but it presently, with an assured step he came towards the spot where Russell Howard was concealed.

Howard's hand stole to his breast pocket! He gave another glance to make sure Prince Max was coming, then withdrew it and tossed something that fell with a tinkle on the middle of the gravel walk. It was an oblong object about two inches across, and conspicuous enough on the white gravel to attract the attention of the Prince, even though he was short-sighted.

He saw it when about four yards off, and, pausing in his walk, touched it with his foot. Then his attention becoming aroused, he picked it up and the expression on his face was one of extreme astonishment, for the article that Russell Howard had thrown on his path was the replica of the cameo which the Prince  had thought to be peacefully reposing in his private rooms under lock and key.

It spoke well for the imitation that it thoroughly deceived the Prince. It is probable that it would not have deceived a man with perfect sight, but the short-sightedness of Prince Max was not improved by the excitement of finding, as he thought, that a thief must have stolen the cameo and dropped it in escaping. His first thought, as Russell Howard had expected, was to rush and examine his collection to see the extent of his loss.

His concern was too great for him to call assistance: indeed, he wished first to examine it alone. He started off at such a pace that Russell Howard, even by taking short cuts at the expense of the gardens, had hard work to arrive within  sight of the door as the Prince was disappearing within.

There was no one about, as luck would have it, being, a full ten minutes early for the Prince to return, and Howard, chancing being seen by any one from the windows above, ran to the door and lightly sprang within. He knew the direction the Prince would take to his apartments, and followed quickly, but silently, on tiptoe. He had provided himself with rubber shoes, so that he made absolutely no noise, and quickly came within sound of the Prince's footsteps. Going still swiftly, but more carefully, he saw the Prince striding along the corridor. Along this he followed, then up a flight of stairs, then along another corridor. At the end of this a liveried servant was approaching. Russell Howard slipped into a doorway near; as the servant stood stiffly and saluted while the Prince passed. The man continued on down the corridor towards Howard. Russell Howard pushed open the door where he was sheltering very carefully. There was no one in the room, and out of it another door opened. He slipped quickly within and through the other door into the next room. Again a door opened from this into still another, and still his luck held, for this room -was also untenanted. From it a door opened back into the corridor and, judging that the servant would by this time have passed, he opened it and looked out.

Once more the way was clear, but the Prince had disappeared. There were only two ways he could have gone; either straight ahead through a door at the end of the corridor, or to the right. Now, Howard knew the rooms which lay to the right, but did not know what lay in front, so he judged the Prince had gone straight on. He was thoroughly enjoying himself now. It was like playing a game of hide and seek, with the added excitement that he must hot be caught himself. The door ahead opened into a spacious ballroom, and on the far side was another door, standing openy while alongside lay a chair that had been pushed over.

Howard ran softly across the room to the door. A passage way ran from this, with rooms opening off on either side, and at the end another door, and he smiled with pleasure to see the Prince turning the key in the lock of this.

The Prince entered, leaving the door wide open, and Howard slipped along and looked in. Prince Max walked straight to a cabinet standing in the middle of a large room furnished with many other cabinets and cases, with glass tops and fronts. Taking a key from his pocket he opened it, and the frown died away from his face as he saw the Hercules cameo reposing within. A look of perplexity came in its place, as he drew the replica from his pocket and compared the two.

He stood for some five minutes examining the, cameo and the copy, then, putting the duplicate back in his pocket, he carefully locked the cabinet and proceeded to examine the other contents of the room. He was apparently satisfied that none of the cases had been tampered with, as he looked at one after the other.

The room was not a straight one, but was more like two rooms joined together at an angle, and one end of it could not be seen from the other.

Russell Howard watched from the door until the Prince turned the corner, then he went quickly to the cabinet. He had prepared himself with a short bar of iron, having a claw end, as he expected to have to force open a case to get the cameo. It was a question of quickness now, and not of quietness, so he wrenched open the lid with a sharp turn of the wrist. It made an ominous cracking sound that the Prince could not help hearing, but Russell Howard grabbed up the cameo and thrust it in his pocket as he turned and ran.

He reckoned on having a couple of minutes' start, as it would take the  Prince that long to see what had happened, and he made the most of it. He flew back down the passage and across the ballroom, along the next corridor, and through, the door at the end; then, turning to the left instead of keeping to the way he came, he came to a part of the; castle that he knew well, and where he thought he had less likelihood of being seen. Down flights of stairs and along passages he ran, meeting, no one on the way; for, as he knew; their duties, took most of the inmates to another part at this time of day.

At last he reached a little side door opening into the grounds, and as he did so he heard orders being quickly shouted within the castle. The door was locked, but the key was there, so be quickly had it open, and, withdrawing the key, locked it on the other side. If pursuit came that way it might gain him a couple of minutes.

He was now in part of the castle garden, and he slipped along under cover of the shrubs and bushes. Fortunately, the grounds were well covered with shrubs and trees, and a man might play hide and seek with a hundred looking for him, for a long time. The castle guard were doubtless out by now, but so far he had met no one. The grounds were surrounded by high iron railings at this, part, but an active man could climb them, as he made for a part where the  thick trees sheltered him from view, and was soon on the other side. A long detour brought him to his inn from the opposite side of the castle.

One of the Palace Guard was talking to the innkeeper as he came in. The man looked suspiciously at him, but did not attempt any interference.

Russell Howard went to his room and finished his packing. The express for the border left in an hour's time; and he had that morning told the innkeeper he would probably be leaving, so nothing now remained but to settle his bill.

At the station there were two more guards pacing up and down. They stared at him and his luggage, and one of them went into the office, where presently Howard heard the ring of a telephone. However, the train came in to time, without anything happening, and he was lucky enough to find an empty compartment. The bell rang, and the guard signalled to start, when a stout man in uniform rushed through the entrance. The two men on duty guided him to Howard's carriage, and as the train started one opened the door while the other pushed him in. He sank into a corner seat, mopping his brow with his handkerchief.

'You were cutting it very fine,'' remarked Howard.

The officer stared at him with an angry frown but made no reply. The train had now cleared the station, and was getting towards full speed. Howard glanced out of the windows at the houses spinning by. When next he looked found the fat officer had him covered with a revolver

'I'll thank you for that cameo!' was all he said.

Russell Howard knew it had to come sooner or later, and he was prepared. However, he did not mean to give in without trouble, having got so far. He knew also that Prince Max would like to recover the cameo quietly, not wishing to raise a scandal, so that he felt in a position to propose terms. On the other hand, though, he was in a foreign country, where the Prince was exceedingly powerful, and although Prince Max might not go to the length of having him arrested for stealing the cameo, still, he could very easily have him detained on some bogus charge without appearing in it at all; and while things could be made very unpleasant for Howard, the cameo might easily be found and taken away.

However, he fenced for a while. He expressed his surprise! He wanted to know all the details; in short, he acted as if this were a complete surprise to him, and he approached the situation in a purely impersonal way. But the stout, officer was not to be put off. He knew, he said, that Russell Howard had stolen the cameo. He had been seen going to the castle in the forenoon; and had he not frequented the place for days. Nothing that Howard could say could shake his conviction.

'We will be at the border in another hour,' he said. 'There is no stop in between, and there you will be detained and searched. In the meantime, you will sit very still where you are, for fear of an accident.'

His eye rested on Russell Howard's breast pocket. He leaned forward and touched it with his left hand. 'There will not be much search needed, I think. I doubt if it will be necessary to look further than that.'

Russell Howard shrugged his shoulders and gave a resigned laugh; 'I know when I am beaten, Colonel. It will not be necessary for you to stop me at the border. I presume, you will be satisfied if I hand this over to you now,' and he took from his breast pocket a square cameo, having carved on it a representation of Hercules.

The stout Colonel took from his pocket a similar one that Howard recognised as that which he had left Prince Max in exchange, and compared the two.

'That will satisfy me,' he said.

'Then,' said Howard, 'permit me to present you with it, Colonel. I thought I should have got back safely with it, but you have been too smart, and I am wise enough to see that it is no use trying  further.'

The Colonel beamed again, and for the rest of the journey entertained him with stories of his regiment and hunting adventures, and found in Russell Howard a most pleasant companion.

They parted at the border with expressions of regret, the Colonel seeing him through the customs without interference, and waving him goodbye in the train that had been waiting on the other side, himself returning to Heinsel Staten by a train half an hour later.

TWO DAYS LATER Russell Howard handed over to Lord Aberdare the famous Hercules cameo that had for some time been missing from his collection. He gave him a brief description of his adventures, and finished up by remarking, 'It's a good thing, Lord Aberdare, that I had two replicas of the cameo made so that I had one to spare for my friend the Colonel in the train."

Lord Aberdare laughed heartily. 'And where,' he asked, 'was the original all the time?'

'Well,' said Russell Howard, 'there is a false bottom in my bag, and it was safely stowed away there. Even if I had been detained at the border I doubt if they would have found it.'

__________________

2: The Seventh Burglary

MR SAUNDERS of Birchgrove House was greatly agitated. This was the fourth time, since he had bought the place three years ago, that it had been burgled.

There must be some special attraction for burglars here without a doubt, for in addition to his four there was also a record of three other robberies in this same house; twice during the previous owner's time, and once before that, the whole seven occurring within a period of six years.

Russell Howard was a great friend of Mr Saunders, and was staying at his house for a couple of weeks, pending reconstruction, as he called it, of his apartments in town.

He had a considerable amount of writing to do at the time, and had accepted Mr Saunder's invitation to stay with him while re-building operations were going on at the place where his rooms were. His host had only the night before given him a full and complete history of the three last burglaries, together with all he knew of the previous occasions, and now in the morning, it was found that the place had been broken into again during the night, and his famous collection of coins, together with any plate handy, had disappeared.

Mr Saunders was altogether disconsolate. He was wrapped up in his collection. It was his pet hobby, and having lately attained to magnificent dimensions was of considerable value. Now it had gone, and would probably it be melted down for the sake of the metal. The plate he could spare better, for that could be replaced, but some of the coins were unique.

The Saunders were very comfortably off, so comfortably in fact that the loss of valuables that might be replaced at a cost of a few hundreds did not affect them. They bore that loss philosophically; but the whole family were grieved over the disappearance of the coins.

There was even hardly any consolation to be derived from the fact that a quantity of exceptionally valuable plate, kept in a cabinet in the same room, had been overlooked and left behind. it The police had already been called in. They tramped all over the place looking for clues, and came to the conclusion that the burglary had been committed by a city expert, for he had left remarkably few traces behind. A window into the garden had been forced, and traces of footprints found. The man had evidently returned the same way, for they could trace him through the garden to the gate and lost the footprints only on the hard road. There was a gravel path, but he had evidently been afraid to walk over it for fear of being heard, so he had left his tracks instead on the small flower bed.

Birchgrove House, although a large place, was only semi-detached; being joined to Wellridge House. The two places together presented an imposing appearance, and had an air of solidity about them. They were two of the largest houses in the new suburb of Rackham, and had been built for professional men, but subsequently sold to their present owners. There was only a narrow strip of garden in front, and a high wall fronting the street gave a considerable d amount of privacy. They were divided from each other also by a similar wall. These, while no doubt making them quite private, also made it easy for a burglar to work undisturbed at the front windows, for it would be difficult to see him from the street.

The police had come to the conclusion in Mr Saunder's other two cases that the robberies were the work of a skilled hand. In one case an entry had been made through a back window; and in the other, which occurred in the daytime a hole had been cut in the front door and the lock forced from the inside.

These skilled burglars had a most annoying habit of losing themselves in the city, and Mr Saunders had heard nothing farther of them, so it did not at all satisfy him this time to be told the same story.

Russell Howard hunted round looking t for traces that the police might have missed. He found two or three pieces of broken glass that had been cut from the window. He also examined the ground closely for footprints, but these had been nearly all obliterated. One place, however, seemed to be of interest to him, for it occupied his attention for some time.

If looking everywhere could have found the thief he would certainly have been rewarded, for he even hauled himself up on to a dividing wall and looked over into the next door garden.

"Who lives there" he asked.

"Oh, that's Wilkinson's place," replied Mr Saunder's.

"Is that the man who used to live in this one, that you told me about?"

"Yes, that's the same man. He lived here for about twelve months and he was robbed here. Then he bought the next door place. I think he preferred it because of the sun getting on it at the side or something, and shifted in there."

"And then, after he left, it was a Mr Gordon lived here, you said, didn't you?" asked Howard.

"Yes. Mr Gordon lived here, and I heard after I had bought the place that he was burgled twice."

"What does Mr Wilkinson do?" asked Howard. "Oh, he has agencies in the city― and that sort of thing, you know. He's a agent for Malley's Machinery and lots of other things."

"I was just having a look at his garden," said Howard. "I notice it's a good deal lower than yours. Did you have yours built up?"

"No," replied Mr Saunders, "it must have been done before I came."

A reporter called about noon for details of the robbery, as Mr Saunders's collection of coins was of considerable importance. These were supplied in a full by Mr Saunders, Russell Howard standing by and putting in a word occasionally.

"Oh!" he said at the finish. "You didn't mention about that cabinet of valuable plate that was missed."

"Mr Saunders," he went on to the reporter, "had a cabinet full of most expensive plate standing in the corner of the same room and this was overlooked by the burglar, so I reckon he d had some luck."

"I wasn't going to says anything about that plate," said Mr Saunders when the reporter had gone. "You see, if they put that in the papers it might tempt the man again or bring another round."

Two days went past, and although it the police were hot on the scent, they had not yet arrested anyone. The evening papers had published a if full account of the burglary, and rather to Mr Saunders' annoyance, gave special prominence to the fact that the thief had overlooked so much valuable plate.

Then came news that made him jubilant. The police had arrested a man on very strong suspicions. He had been round about Rackham on the night of the burglary, and was well known to them as an artist at the game. Mr Saunders went into the police station, and found the police were very sure of their man. The footprints were at larger than the prints of the boots he was wearing, but this was not regarded as being of importance, as he was cunning enough to wear larger boots where he was likely to leave traces behind. They had not managed to trace any of the stolen property yet, but as were confident that would soon follow.

Russell Howard appeared to treat Mr Saunders' news rather indifferently when he returned.

"Did they say anything about your garden?" he asked.

"Anything about my garden?" repeated Mr Saunders in surprise. "No! "What was the matter with that," he asked.

"Oh, nothing," said Howard, only I thought they might have mentioned it."

Mr Saunders looked at him curiously for a moment, and then went on to describe the steps the police were taking. He was full of admiration for their methods, which certainly seemed thorough. Russell Howard appeared to have lost all interest in the matter now that the burglar had been caught, and went back to his work, while Saunders went out and told Mr Wilkinson all about it, over the dividing wall.

Next day the family had gone out and the two men were by themselves, except for the servants in the kitchen. Presently the telephone rang, and Mr Saunders answered it. He was greatly excited when he came back.

"They've found it!" he exclaimed. "They have some of the coins down at the police station, and want me to go down and identify them. I'm sure they are all right, for they described two or three, and I know there are not likely to be any others like them knocking about. I must go down right away. Will you come with me or would you rather stay here?"

"Well, I have a lot of writing to get through," said Howard. "Do you want me to go particularly, or would you mind if I stayed?"

"Oh, I don't mind at all, said Mr Saunders. "Only I didn't like to leave you all by yourself. Of course, if you don't mind that, it's all right."

"If you don't mind," said Howard, "I think I'll get on with my work. It's getting rather behind, and I won't mind an hour or so at it."

"Right, old man," said Mr Saunders, who was in great good humour now that his coins had been found. "If you want anything, you know, just ring for it and the servants will get it."

He was half way out the front door by this, and Russell Howard watched him rush off down the street in great spirits and jump into a cab.

It did not look as if Russell Howard was as anxious about his writing as he had made out, for he did not go to it when his host left. Instead, he started walking round close to the walls of the rooms, stamping with his feet. Mr Saunders would certainly have thought him mad. He peered behind the furniture and thoroughly examined any fixtures. While he was doing this the telephone rang again.

One of the maids answered it, and he heard her say, "Yes, I'll tell him at once. Police station, Clerkenwell-road? Yes, very well. She came looking for him.

"There's a message from Mr Saunders for you, sir, " she said. "He is at the Clerkenwell Police station, and would like you to come there at once, if you can. The inspector has a lot of his coins, and if he can get someone else to identify them, will let him take most of them away. He says you have seen them before and will be able to help him."

"Very well. Mary." said Howard. "I'll go at once: but I want you to do something for me, will you?"

"Yes, sir, of course; if I can," she answered. "Well, I have just an idea that it wasn't Mr Saunders who sent the message at all. He didn't speak himself, did he?"

"No, sir, it was someone at the police station."

"Well. I'm going out by the front door. Mary, but I'm coming round to the back almost at once, and I want you to have the door open so that I can slip in quietly. You understand, don't you?"

"Yes, sir," she answered.

"And Mary, you might get a screwdriver, some screws about a couple of inches long, and a gimlet ready for me. Can you"

"Yes, sir, I can get them."

Mary did not look at all surprised at these out of the way requests, but her face beamed when Howard slipped half-a-sovereign into her hand. He rushed out of the house in almost as great a hurry as Mr Saunders had been in. There was a cab passing, and he hailed it. "Drive to Clerkenwell-road Police Station, cabby," he said.

The cabby whipped up his horse, but they had only just turned the corner when his fare stopped him again, and got out.

"I've changed my mind," he said, "but here's your fare, and I want you to drive to the Police Station and ask for Mr Saunders. If he is there, ask him to come home at once and bring a constable with him."

The cabby looked surprised, but the sight of the money seemed to satisfy him, and he drove off.

Russell Howard hurried round the next street and down a lane to the back entrance of Birchgrove House. He found the door open and Mary standing there with the tools he had asked for.

"That's a good girl, Mary," he said. She smiled broadly, well pleased, as he went off.

Once out of the kitchen he walked softly on tip-toe. Opposite the room where the plate and coins had been kept, and where the cabinet containing the rest of the plate still stood, was another room. Into that he stole quietly and slipped behind a screen standing there. Through the crack between its folds he could see into the other room.

He remained crouched there for not more than two or three minutes when the door of the room opposite began to gently and slowly close. It did not go steadily as it would have done had the breeze been blowing it, but slowly and cautiously as if someone was carefully closing it. At last it was pushed to, and the latch gave just the slightest of clicks.

Howard waited no longer, but stole out on tip-toe again. With as much caution as had been displayed in closing the other, he opened the front door, and slipped quietly out, drawing it gently to behind him. He wasted no time going out into the street, but clambered over the dividing wall into the next door garden. He walked on to the veranda, and after giving a glance at the door. which was closed, turned his attention to the windows. One of these was opened, and pushing the sash up far enough, he climbed in.

Listening for a moment he made sure no one was moving about. Mr Wilkinson lived by himself, with the exception of his housekeeper, who was deaf and almost entirely kept in the kitchen. As the house was a large one some of the rooms were kept shut up, and were never used.

From Mr Wilkinson, Russell Howard had no fear of interruption, and he only waited to make sure that the housekeeper was not about before he moved.

Satisfied on that point he made his way to the room he judged to be adjacent to that in the other Shouse where the plate was kept. He went over to the wall and looked along the floor. Under a rug there were a couple of loose short boards left for the purpose of reaching the gas pipes, and these he lifted. There were the usual boards and beams underneath, and after a mere glance he replaced them. His next move was to bore holes slantingly through the loose boards and the fixed ones next. He made half a dozen at each end, and putting in screws made the whole thing secure. He stood up and gave a satisfied look at his work, and as if to lend an artistic air to it, placed a heavy pedestal on top. Then he tip-toed out again, and climbed back through the window.

He hurried over the wall and ran up the steps to Birchgrove House. Although the door was open as he had left it, he preferred to ring the bell loudly, but not waiting for the maid to come, pushed it wide open and walked in noisily. He smiled to himself as he fancied he heard a slight scuttling noise in the room on the left.

As he walked to the door the girl came up, and he paused, with his hand on the handle.

"All right, Mary," he said, "I found the door open, so walked in."

Then he opened the door. The room was empty, but the cabinet was open and the plate gone. There was no trace of anyone about, but he only smiled and sat down to await events.

He waited there for perhaps twenty minutes, then he heard the door bell peal violently. Mary rushed to the door: the bell ringing all the time. He heard Saunders bustle in the hall and ask where he was, and he heard another heavy tramp behind him.

Then Mr Saunders came into the room accompanied by a policeman. He looked astonished when he saw Russell Howard sitting there by himself and apparently doing nothing. Then his eyes wandered round the room and he saw the open empty cabinet.

"Don't say I have been robbed again!" he exclaimed. "Was that why you wanted the policeman?"

"That's it," said Russell Howard cheerfully. "I happened to come in and found the rest of the plate had gone."

"Good heavens!" said Mr Saunders in despair, "I can't seem to keep anything! They'll take the very chair I'm sitting on, next, and the paper off the walls."

He looked so utterly miserable that Howard took pity on him.

"While you have been away on a wild-goose chase," he said, "I've been laying for your interesting burglar, and I think I can show him to you soon."

He turned to the policeman, who had stood staring from one to the other.

"Just lift up those loose boards over the gas pipe, will you" he asked. The constable approached them carefully, as though he expected something to spring out, and raised them up.

"What do you see" asked Howard. The constable looked round with a surprised expression.

"Nothing, sir, at least nothing out of the way."

"Nothing?" asked Howard. "Don't you see any dust there?"

"Dust," said the policeman; "no, there's no dust here, but―" He began to look interested, and searched the opening carefully, as if he expected to find something. Russell Howard watched him with a quiet smile. Presently the constable rose from his knees and slapped his hands together.

"No sir," he said, "there's no dust there, at least, not what one would expect."

He waited to hear what Howard might have to say next. That gentleman turned to Mr Saunders.

"Do you mind if I get an axe and chop into the boards underneath― I can assure you it will be worth your while."

Mr Saunders looked absolutely lost.

"I don't know what you are driving at, but please yourself," he said. Presently the constable returned with an axe.

"Go ahead," said Howard. "You ought to make short work of that."

The policeman stood over the opening, and with short, hacking chops cut and smashed through the beams, and wrenched and, pulled out the underneath boards. Below was a dark opening. Russell Howard motioned the constable to one side and bent over.

"You had better came out," he said. "The game's up."

There was no answer, and for a moment he looked concerned, then lowered himself into the hole. He disappeared from sight for half a minute; then returned to view dragging some heavy object.

He scrambled out, and the policeman lending a hand, together they hauled into view Mr Wilkinson from next door. He lay on the floor limp and unconscious. The air had been too close in the tunnel when both ends were fastened, and he had all but suffocated. Between them, however, he soon began to show signs of coming round.

Howard again dived into the tunnel, and this time returned with a bag containing the stolen plate.

When Wilkinson fully recovered, the constable took him in charge and went off, promising to bring his sergeant back to make a thorough search of the next door premises. It was only when he had departed that Mr Saunders managed to express his feelings in words.

"Well, I'm hanged!" he said. "To think all my things were just going next door all the time. No wonder they were melting away. Why, I was just feeding him all the time, and he had to just come and help himself to what he wanted. But how on earth did you find out."

"The first thing I thought strange was the fact of so many burglaries taking place in this particular house. Then I hunted round and found the pieces of glass. I fitted them in the window on chance, and saw that the piece had been cut out from inside! The scratch on the inside was quite different to the break on the outside. Therefore, it must have been someone already in the house who had broken out, probably to make it appear that he had broken in. Now you had no one in the house to do it, so it must be someone who had access to the inside.

"I wondered if there was any chance of anyone getting in from next door, and looked over the wall to see the lay of the place. I saw then that their garden was lower than yours, and asked you if you had yours built up. You said not, so it must have been done before you came. Now the earth must have come from somewhere, and the idea of a tunnel between the two houses struck me.

"You remember you thought it rather foolish of met to mention the remainder of your plate to the reporter. I did that purposely as a snare. I thought that if were should be a tunnel between the two places your neighbour would feel secure enough to come back for it. While you were out, too, I examined the dividing walls and the floors, but could find no probable outlet except these loose boards, but underneath them the beams and lower boards appeared to be intact, and I had no way or moving them. I see now there was a second trap door fastening securely underneath and leaving no trace above.

"At last when the telephone message came far you to go to the police station and identify your property, I felt pretty sure it was a blind and excused myself from going with you. When a little later they rang up for me, probably in both cases from a bureau, I was sure of it, and arranged accordingly."

Howard then explained what happened after Mr Saunders left.

"I shouldn't wonder," he continued, "if they find most of your things in his house, and also if they make some discoveries about his position in the city. He is very probably a fence for high class burglars on a large scale, and having this opportunity for doing a little business on his own account, worked it for all it was worth."

__________________

3: The Removal of the Millionaire

RUSSELL HOWARD was enjoying the, to him, rather unusual society of half a dozen of Chicago's younger leaders of finance. The occasion was a dinner given in his honour by his friend Mortimer Ramsay, who also wished to provide a little distraction for himself and those of his friends who were so deeply interested in Rabone Skinner and his corner in wheat, that it had became a necessity to give their brains a rest from perpetually scheming to best that gentleman at a game in which he at the present time held, all the trumps.

"If only we could get him out of the way for 48 hours we could be saved," said Raymond Benshaw, "and more than saved— we'd score pretty well ourselves."

"No use wishing, Raymond, old man!" chimed in Ramsay. "It's a case of pay up this time, and look about as pleasant as we can. He's got us down, tight, and he knows it. and he's going to let us know what we're up against, too, so we'll be good little boys and mind our own business in future and not bother Rabone Skinner. For my part, I'll be glad when it's over now and I've paid up. Two or three days must see it finished."

Russell Howard had heard a lot of this sort of talk, and had taken it all in until he arrived at a pretty good idea of the situation. Gambling on a large scale such as this did not appeal to him, though the contest of wits did, and he had seen enough during his ten-days' visit to his friends in Chicago to show him that Rabone Skinner must come out on top. That gentleman had all but cornered the wheat market, and was now engaged putting the finishing touches on his great plan.

The fight for the control of wheat had been raging for some weeks. The wheat supply of the world was the lowest for several years past owing to droughts and the great national disturbances, and these circumstances, had all tended to render fiercer than ever the struggle for control.

Meanwhile, the price of wheat had risen to almost fabulous prices, and bread was dearer than ever— indeed, now almost out of the reach of the poorer classes.  There were murmurings and mutterings in the back streets, even of Chicago: and mobs of unemployed men— for this had been bad season also for work— with their womenkind and children were becoming correspondingly angry with the rise in the price of flour and bread. They had on one or two occasions already broken out into something resembling a mild riot; the mob, however, had so far proved amenable to the police and had been easily dispersed.

The sensational press of Chicago and New York had seized on these happenings, and through them the world had been informed of the "Bread Riots in Chicago."

Russell Howard had seen that, whoever benefited in this juggling with prices, it was the poorer people who suffered, and he could not reconcile it to his English conscience that fortunes should be made by tampering in this way with the food necessities of the people. However, here he was in the company of half a dozen of the offenders, and he was forced to admit that he had found them exceedingly pleasant companions, and told himself that they must regard these matters in a very different light to himself.

"Would it make so much difference if Skinner himself were away?" he asked. "Would he not have men in his employ who would carry on his work just as well?"

"It's this way," one of the other men explained, and he leant forward and made dabs on the tablecloth with his forefinger to emphasize his points. "If old man Skinner, were away, I guess we could run things against his men. He runs these shows himself as much as he can, and no one else has the grip of the whole thing. One man does one part and one another, but no one of his employees could carry it right along on his own lines; and then, again, if he were to get lost now for a couple of days, well, I guess his securities would get just a. bit shaky, and with us pulling, something ought to tumble our way."

"What's he like, this Rabone Skinner?" asked Russell Howard.

"Well! he's one of the meanest cusses going— not because he's just up against us— he didn't show out when we first went into it, didn't show, in fact, till we'd gone too far to get out— but he'd get a policeman to kick a poor, starving beggar off his doorstep and grin to see him do it. He's got no pity for the man that's down. Says he's got to take his chance. That's all right for the man that's got it in him to get up again, but there are plenty of poor beggars who haven't. But, physically, the man's a coward— not in money matters—  he'll stand hard hits there without moving a muscle― but he's always mortally afraid that some poor Johnny that he's ruined will take it out of his hide, and he generally has one or two of his men around in case he wants help!"

"But about, getting him away?" Russell Howard continued quietly, and, at this question, Mortimer Ramsay, who knew something of his friend's capabilities, bent forward slightly, and his eyes sparkled.

"Is it worth anything! Supposing it could be done, are there any dollars in it for the man who runs it?"

The man who had been talking glanced the group quickly. His eyes flashed for a second on each face, and in the eyes of each there was an answering look, then they tested on Raymond Renshaw, who nodded and said— "Mr. Howard, of course we don't lay ourselves out to damage any man here to benefit ourselves. We don't go much on the old Italian ways of getting a man out of the road by ventilating the back of his coat with a stiletto or anything of that sort; but we guess you're not in that game yourself; still, if any one were to ask him nicely to go away and rest for a couple of days, and could persuade him that it was the best time of the year for a holiday— well! that man would be worth all of ten thousand dollars to us. That's so, isn't it?" he asked the others, and they nodded their heads without sneaking, but with their eyes fixed on Russell Howard.

"Well, I was thinking," he said, "that perhaps I could arrange it. Half of that ten thousand of yours would very likely go in expenses, but I think it would be worth the risk. Now, if he went the day after to-morrow, how would that suit?"

"If he goes the day after to-morrow," said Ramsay, "we'll get through clear; but what about the row when be comes back? I don't want you to think I'm not game, but we don't want to fall in too heavily after, or the game won't be worth it!"

"I think I can fix it," said Russell Howard. "I think you will find he'll take it quietly; but, anyway, none of you fellows need be in it. I'm going to run this show on my own."

"But how will you do it?" asked Caleb Tressider, one of the rising Board of Trade men. "You can't go and kidnap a man like that very easily, and he'll take a lot of persuading unless you can bring something against him that'll make him quit, and even then it would want to be something pretty strong to make him let go."

"No," said Howard, "I'm not going to kidnap him, and I don't know anything against him that will scare him away, and I can't let you fellows know any more just yet; only be ready to work things when he goes."

THERE WERE six wondering men in Chicago next day, and perhaps only Mortimer Ramsay, who knew more of Russell Howard than the others, thought it at all possible that he would carry out his promise. He ran across Howard later on next day and asked him how he was progressing.

"All right! old man. I saw Burnett Brothers, the photographers, this morning and set things going." he said.

"What! are you going to take his photo and scare him off with that?"

"Can't say yet! Perhaps," shouted Russell Howard, as he rushed off.

Burnett Brothers had not been the first call that morning for him, however. He had made enquiries overnight as to where Rabone Skinner lived, and found that he motored in from his house at Grangelands, one of the swell suburbs, every morning.

He telephoned to a garage and arranged for a car early, and motored out next morning. One of his accomplishments was that of being his own chauffeur, and he had arranged that he should be allowed to run the car himself and dispense with a driver. On the way out he passed Rabone Skinner.

There was no difficulty in recognising him from the descriptions he had gathered. He continued along the road for some distance before turning, calculating to meet the chauffeur with the empty car on his way back, for his business for the present was with him.

The result fell out according to his expectations, and he was able to have a little private conversation. Rabone Skinner's chauffeur was no more in love with his master than any other who had come in contact with him, and it was no hard matter to persuade him to. A roll of crumpled notes passing from one to the other completed the contract.

The rest of the day was spent in the company of a photographer in West Forty-fifth Street, and also in interviewing some of the heads of the Police Department.

The next morning everything worked like clockwork. Russell Howard, motoring in to Chicago early, came upon a disabled car, and was happy in being of service to so distinguished a gentleman as Mr. Rabone Skinner by giving him a lift in his motor.

"You will not mind my taking you through one or two back streets,' he said "I have business on the way, and tins will, perhaps suit both of us."

Rabone Skinner had no objection so long as he reached his destination quickly, so Russell Howard ran his car from one street to another until a quick turn brought them into Forty-fifth, street.

Half-way down a row of some sort seemed to be progressing.

"Looks as if I'll have to slacken up a little here," he said. "Seems to be a crowd about, but we ought to get through all right."

The crowd that had been fairly quiet became violent as the car approached. "It looks like one of the bread-rioting crowds," said Howard. "I only hope they will let us through all right and not start breaking things."

The crowd, however, was too thick, and refused to give way, despite the warning hoots from the horn. A man, bareheaded and in his shirt sleeves, stood up in an empty van. He was waving his arms about wildly, and thumping with one shut fist into the other open palm. He was uttering wild denunciations against those who were juggling with the price of wheat. Russell Howard tried to get his motor either backwards or forwards, but the crowd, would not allow it; they closed round and seemed inclined to make things lively for its occupants.

"Keep 'em there, lads," the orator cried, "an' let 'em hear what we've got to say of them. They don't often hear the truth, and now they've got to wait till they've heard it— an' straight too. I tell you!"

There was no help for it, it seemed, but to wait. Russell Howard sat with an amused smile on his face, but Rabone Skinner seemed to shrivel up into his motor cap and coat. He kept glancing nervously around him.

"Where are the police?" he kept muttering. "Held up in broad day! It's disgraceful! disgraceful!"

But no policemen were in sight, and the fiery denunciations of the swell crowd, as the speaker termed them, went on with sympathetic encouragement from the mob. A big man with an unwashed face, and looking as if he cared more for beer than bread, shouldered his way through the crowd until lie came to a standstill beside the car.

"Ullo!" he said, "wot's 'ere? Do they come down in kyars to hear, you spoutin' now, Cyrus― Wy, it's ole man Skinner 'imself come to shake 'ands friendly like, and see 'ow we're doin' on no bread for each meal. Gettin' fat, ain't we?" and he reached a huge hand across and poked Rabone Skinner contemptuously in the ribs.

At the sound of Skinner's name the crowd forgot to listen to their orator, and jostled round the car. One man pulled his cap off.

"It's him all right," some one shouted, and then there was a chorus of angry screams from the women and curses from the men. The man on the cart had jumped down to look. He scrambled back again now and shouted for a hearing.

"Men," he cried, "here's this skunk! this living crawler that's stealing the bread out of our children's mouths. What'll we do with 'im? Talk up there an' let 'im bear it!! Talk up now!"

Then there came a roar of rage from the crowd. It seemed almost impossible that such a quantity of sound could come from them. Rabone Skinner shrank smaller and smaller, and squirmed closer up against Howard, as men, women, and children screamed curses on his name and clutched at him with their dirty hands, threatening to tear him from the car. He pushed them frantically away with both hands, and Howard, who was not being so badly handled, leant over him and shouted to him to bold on.

"I'm going to push the car through them," he shouted through the din; and running the car back through a space the crowd had left partly clear, he for the moment shook off the clamouring mob, and then, quickly reversing the gear, steered he machine back along the way they had come.

They still moved slowly. It would have been sheer murder to have run at top peed, much as Rabone Skinner might have wished it; for although the foremost of the attackers appeared to have been taken by surprise and to have given way slightly, they still hung on and around the car. Although Russell Howard kept it moving he could not increase his speed. The mob meanwhile were beginning to show signs of again proceeding to violence. Howard pulled a revolver out of his pocket and thrust it into Skinner's hands.

"Here," he said, "threaten them with that, but don't shoot, for heaven's sake."

Skinner was one of those weak, cowardly men who felt momentarily brave with a weapon in his hand, and he flourished it round in a way that made Howard, who was giving all his time to the wheel, duck his head.

"I'll shoot!" he yelled. "I'll shoot! If any damned man of you lays a finger on me— I'll shoot!" he ended up with a yell. Just then a man grabbed for the collar of his coat at the back and missed. Skinner turned around, flourishing his revolver wildly. A woman rushed forward with a stone.

Skinner faced back in time to see her, and raised his revolver, firing blindly.

She fell, a huddled heap in the roadway, and Skinner madly fired all his chambers into the crowd, who drew back, tumbling over each other, and left a dear pathway down which Howard sent the car at top speed. Skinner was now grovelling in the bottom of the car.

"Great heavens! man. you shot them," cried Howard. "Why did you shoot? For heaven's sake, why did you shoot? We would have got clear away— and now, there's this!"

They sped on through street after street. Through the suburbs, out into the open country, until they had put miles between them and the morning's tragedy. Skinner at last sat up, looking pale and shaken. His nerve was gone, and he looked to Howard for help.

"Good heavens!" he cried. "what are we to do? They can't touch us! They can't, can they?"

"You shouldn't have fired," said Howard. "I told you not to shoot— and a woman, too; the crowd would lynch you if they got you."

"Yes, but the police! I did it in self-defence."

"What? Shot a woman in self-defence? It has a nasty look. Some will call it murder."

"I must get away, that's what I must do. Get away for some days, for a while, till this blows over a little."

His natural cowardice was coming out, and his only thought was to run away. He could not face the consequences at present.

"Take me away somewhere in your car," he said. "I can pay. I will pay you well, if you can only hide me."

Russell Howard considered for minute.

"It will be better to separate I think," he said. The police will be looking for us in a motor car; they are sure to have our description wired all over the place. I will tell you what you had better do. I had run you down to a station where you can get the Santa Fe express. You can fix up an outfit in town and book right through to the other side and get away before they find out we have separated. I will trust to chance to get away with the car."

Jabone Skinner was almost too shaken to agree to part with Howard, but at last was brought to see that this was the best thing he could do, so the car was turned in the direction of a station where the Santa Fe express stopped.

Rabone Skinner bought himself a hat and coat and few necessaries, with one eye furtively watching the door of the shop meanwhile. Nothing, however, happened, and although they passed a policeman near the station, it may have been only his imagination that made him appear to look suspiciously at them.

They had a 30 minutes wait for the train, and Rabone Skinner besought Howard to stay by him until it came.

The shrill whistle of the train carrying the fugitive millionaire on his trip across the continent announced at last to Russell Howard that his morning's work was completed, and he regained his car and headed it back to Chicago.

A WEEK LATER Mortimer Ramsay and his friends were triumphant, for they had emerged from the fray, thanks to the absence of Rabone Skinner, if not with well-lined pockets, at least without that loss which had seemed; inevitable. All Chicago, moreover, was laughing to think of their premier millionaire, hard-headed Rabone Skinner, running away from a ready-made riot planned by an enterprising photographer for cinematograph purposes. In view of the serious consequences that might have followed from the promiscuous shooting by Mr. Rabone Skinner, the authorities prohibited a recurrence of such arrangements in a public street, but as Russell Howard explained to his friends, he didn't expect to want any more cinematograph pictures arranged, and as he was careful to load his revolver with blank cartridges he was sure no one could be hurt.

Rabone Skinner stayed away for a week before he made a crestfallen reappearance in Chicago and although his suspicions amounted almost to a certainty that the whole affair had been cleverly engineered by Russell Howard, that gentleman had so arranged that no evidence to that effect could he obtained.

"I felt almost sorry for him, Russell Howard remarked to his friends, "when I saw how terrified he was, although it was your saving what a coward he was that gave me the idea. I thought if I could got him frightened and keep him on the run I might succeed. It did succeed admirably. He didn't say once that he was sorry he had shot any one; he was only thinking of his own worthless hide all the time, and I think that hardened me again.

"I don't think I would have taken this on, though, if he hadn't been sending up the price of food without giving a thought to the poor wretches who hadn't the money to get it. A man who inflicts hardship the poor needs to be taught a lesson.

"So look out," he said, "that next time you want me you are on the right side yourselves."

______________

4: The Case of Lord Ponderry

"VERY LIKELY, Mr. Howard," said the Earl of Swindon, pompously, "you have formed an idea of the business about which I wished to consult you."

Russell Howard neither admitted nor denied the statement, and the Earl, replacing the eye-glass which he had removed in order to see if his visitor were properly impressed, proceeded:

"I― er― I refer to the case of Lord Ponderry. You, no doubt, read the newspapers, Mr. Howard― I- believe― most business men read them, now, if they have time― and you will have noticed, no doubt, the unfortunate case of Lord Ponderry, which I might say is attracting considerable attention throughout the whole of England.

"Perhaps it will be as well if you will allow me to put the facts briefly before you. I can, I imagine, present them much succinctly than the newspaper reports, which are enveloped is so much extraneous matter that they are more likely to mislead than to guide.

"Lord Ponderry, as you may already be aware― our names being so often before the public, which is a penalty; Mr. Howard, that those in high places have often to bear― is my nephew, and I might inform you here, Mr Howard, that I am acting in this matter for the family to which Lord Ponderry belongs, and of which I have the honour to be the head.

"Lord Ponderry is a young man who has, until lately, been at Oxford University, where he acquitted himself with great credit"― Russell Howard, who had heard one or two stories to the contrary, nevertheless allowed this statement to Pass unchallenged― but unfortunately his assiduity in pursuit of knowledge led to a partial breakdown in his health, and for the last six months he has been travelling.

"When last his family heard from him personally he was staying at Palermo, in Sicily, but we have more recently been in receipt of a letter of,  I might say, a somewhat threatening nature, from a gentleman who calls himself Luigi Castelligno, and who asks that he might be addressed at Corleone.

"This gentleman announces to us that to use his own terms, 'he has had the grand pleasure of to capture the Signor Lord Ponderry, a nobleman of England,' and proposes that his friends shall raise a ransom of £100,000 for him, otherwise, 'it is greatly to he feared the climate too unhealthy will be.'

"The English Government, through their Ambassador, have made enquiries, and find that Lord Ponderry was captured by brigands while travelling in Sicily, and is being held for ransom at a place in the mountains near Corleone. Lord Ponderry doubtless announced his name to them in order to impress them, thinking they would be afraid to detain so prominent a personage; but I am informed that brigandage has become extremely common of late, and the brigands have become very insolent, hence, instead of  immediately releasing him, they will not abate one penny of the exorbitant sum demanded.

"One would of course have thought that the English Government would have taken this matter up immediately, and obtained Lord Ponderry's release, whether by force, or, if no other way presented, by payment of the ransom, but they have definitely stated that they will take no action beyond asking the Italian Government interfere.

"I could understand the position our government his taken up were the person captured an unknown man, but being a member of the British aristocracy, its apathy is utterly incomprehensible to me and I shall certainly, when Parliament meets, ventilate this matter, and the Prime Minister will only have himself to blame, should it prove the means of upsetting his Ministry.

"And now I come to the part which concerns you, Mr. Howard. Our family― although a very old one, one of the oldest in the country, in fact― is not a wealthy one, and cannot raise so large a sum as the £100,000 mentioned.

"No, Mr. Howard; the most we have been able to do― and we have all contributed― is to raise a sum of £5000, but the offer of this has been rejected with scorn, and also, again, violence against Lord Ponderry has been threatened if the money is not soon forthcoming.

"By a great effort of self-denial we have been able to raise a further £1000, and I now propose to ask you, Mr. Howard, if for that sum you will undertake to proceed to Corleone and interview this bandit, or brigand, and secure the release of Lord Ponderry for the sum of £5000.

"You have been mentioned lo me as having skilfully arranged a number of difficult cases, and I feel sure that, if you are able to see this Luigi yourself, you will he able to come to an understanding with him."

Russell Howard reflected for a moment. Sicily had the name for delightful scenery, and he had often wished to see the country. There would possibly be a certain amount of danger in dealing with these brigands, but that would rather lend an added zest to the trip.

"Very well," he said, "I will undertake this trip for you. Of course I cannot promise that this brigand will accept your terms, but I will undertake to put them before him and do all I can to effect the release of Lord Ponderry."

AT CORLEONE, Howard found means to interview Luigi Castelligno, the brigand. A guide soon offered, when it was found that he had come about the ransom and was alone. So in the early morning, with a beautiful clear blue sky overhead, the two set out on mules for the brigand's stronghold.

Russell Howard was permitted to view the scenery for some miles, but at last the guide announced his sorrow that he should have to incommode the signor Englishman by blindfolding him.

He submitted cheerfully. He was trusting himself alone among these bandits on the idea that they would not harm anyone who had come in connection with the ransom. The money he had deposited in a bank at Palermo for safety.

The path became rougher and rougher, and he could tell by the scrambles of the mules, and, at last, they came to a stop and he heard a challenge given, which his guide answered. Then they moved on again a little further and were again challenged, and again passed on, till presently they came to a full stop.

There were muttered questions and answers, and Howard gathered from the various sounds that there were a considerable number of people there. Someone took the bandage from his eyes and he was helped off his mule.

It was a strange crowd that he saw before him; some thirty or forty swarthy-looking men with dark, flashing eyes, all gazing at him with interest, and chattering and smiling. Their faces were pleasant enough now. with one or two exceptions, but he could imagine how quickly they would change should anyone go against them.

They were grouped in front of a rough wooden building, evidently, from its size the residence of their chief, and in the centre, seated on a case, was Luigi Castelligno, the redoubtable. Standing alongside was a girl, tall and finely proportioned. Russell Howard thought even in that first glance she was one of the most beautiful women it had been his fortune to see. She was dark, with jet black hair― not coarse, but wonderfully fine and silky. Her eyes were dark and flashing, and her shapely mouth was scarlet. A healthy colour from an outdoor life was in her cheeks, which dimpled prettily as she witnessed Howard's astonishment at her saying, "Good-day, Signor."

Howard raised his hat and bowed to her and to the brigand chief.

"I had not thought to hear English spoken here," he said. "It is an altogether unexpected pleasure."

Luigi Castelligno frowned and spoke to him in Italian, which he could just understand.

"The girl's mother was English," he said, "but it would be better for her to forget that and remember that she is the daughter of a Sicilian chief."

The girl did not appear to take any notice except to toss her head proudly, and Russel Howard had hard work to keep his eyes from turning towards her and giving his attention to Luigi, whom he understood to be now asking him to state his business.

"Lord Ponderry's family," he said to the brigand, with another polite bow, "have sent me to make personal representations to you. They regret very much that you have taken up the stand you have, and would of course prefer that you should immediately allow your prisoner to go free, and thus save yourself from trouble in the future from the constituted authority of this country. Should you do this they will agree to take no further action, against you, and would even be willing to pay you a fair sum for expenses, recognising that the ways and ideas of people in Sicily are somewhat different to those of England."

The brigand's face and the faces of his followers had shown a variety of expressions while Russell Howard was speaking. Some looked angry, some sad, some merely hurt; but the majority wore a look of astonishment.

This was something that they could not understand. That they should have been at the trouble of catching this mad Englishman and keeping him all this time to be calmly asked to let him go and receive a small sum for his board.

"Nonsense!" broke in the chief. "You speak nonsense, and you have been very silly to make this trip unless you brought the money with you. For the one hundred thousand pounds the Englishman goes free! Otherwise― well, I have mad' other arrangements."

"My dear man," said Russell Howard "you are asking too much. Von arc al together overrating your captive's value. Why, an ordinary English lord is no nearly worth a hundred thousand. Really they have very little value indeed, but as a special case I can offer you three or perhaps four thousand for this one.

Luigi shook his head and laughed scornfully.

"One hundred thousand!" he paid.

"No," said Howard, quietly. "I will go to five thousand, but not a penny more. Come, it must be that or nothing."

The brigand laughed again and his followers joined in.

"Ha! Ha! Is that all you can offer. Then I will tell you what I shall do. I shall keep him for my daughter. She wants to marry him. Why! I cannot say, but she shall have him."

"Bianca, my daughter," he said, turning to the girl. "I promised him to you if they did not ransom him, so you shall marry him to-morrow as soon as I can get a priest."

"And you," he said to Russell Howard, "can go back to this lord's family, an tell them that he has been honoured by being wedded to the daughter of Luigi Castelligno, Lord of the Sicilian Mountains."

Bianca leant over his shoulder and whispered something. He laughed and turned to Howard again.

"My daughter says to keep you till tomorrow as a guest for the wedding so you may stay with the other Englishman and see him made happy. Ricardo! take this Englishman to the other."

HOWARD found Lord Ponderry sitting moodily in his hut. He was an undersized man with a bored expression and red hair.

He introduced himself and Lord Ponderry shook, hands languidly.

"Awfully good of you to come, you know," he said, "but I knew it was no good. They haven't got all that money to waste on me at home, and besides, that girl Bianca, you know― rather fine style, isn't she?― she's taken a downright fancy to me. Of course the other johnnies here are a terrible lot of rotters, y' know. You can't blame the poor girl, can you? But it's a bit beastly embarrassing now, ain't it? She says she's goin' to marry me and I've got to stop here. It's an awful bore, y' know. I tried to reason with her, and told her I didn't want to marry her, and tried to put her off, but it was no go. Told her that I might ill-treat her, y know; but no good― she's got me dead set― that's a cert!"

Russell Howard smiled at the idea of him ill-treating her, considering that she could have picked him up and run away; with him, but said nothing.

They spent the afternoon discussing the situation, but neither could see any way out. There was no chance whatever of making a bolt for it, Lord Ponderry said; the place was too well guarded, and the only thing seemed to be to go through with the marriage and trust to escaping afterwards.

The afternoon wore on and evening came― a mellow evening, with the air heavily laden with the scent of the mountain trees.

Dusk had come and they had thought of no plan of escape. They were tired of talking, and sat gazing from the door of the hut over the mountains.

A clear girl's voice broke the silence with a song; a mournful Sicilian love song, and neither of them moved till she had finished.

"By Jove!" said Howard. "What a voice! Is that Bianca?"

"Yes," said Lord Ponderry mournfully. "She has a wonderful voice, and is a beautiful woman, but I want to get away home. I don't want to marry her and stop here."

Howard rose and stretched himself lazily. I think I'll go and talk to her," he said. "I'll try my hand at persuading. She says she's half English, so perhaps she may listen to reason,"

"All right," said Lord Ponderry wearily. "Have a try, but you won't do any good. She wants me, and she's goin' to have me."

Howard strolled quietly over in the direction the sound had come from, and found Bianca sitting on a rock overlooking the valley beneath.

She drew her skirts closer and made room quite naturally for him to sit beside her. She seemed just a simple child of nature, and of the two, Howard was the more embarrassed. He hardly knew how to start.

"Signorina," he began, "are you serious in your desire to marry this Englishman? I do not say but that he may not be silly not to fall in love with you, for you are without doubt, a beautiful girl, but are you wise to wish to become his wife when you know that you have not his heart?"

Bianca's eyes had been staring far beyond the valley, but she gave him a side-long glance at this.

He wont on :

"You tell mc that you are half English, but English girls would not do like this. Tell me: is there no way for you to get away from here? Living among all these wild men is surely no life for one as beautiful as you. You have a lovely voice― a voice that would draw thousands to listen in the big cities. Cannot we help you to go where you could study and perfect it, and become a great singer? Tell me, why is it you wish to marry Lord Ponderry? Is it altogether because you love him?"

She was a little shy now and picked at her skirts with her fingers.

"No-o," she said slowly. "I do not think I love him. No ! I am sure of that; only I feel that I am more English than Sicilian, and these men"― she threw out her hands with a gesture of scorn― "they are only pigs and I do not want to marry them; so I wanted an English husband. So when my father caught an Englishman and they would not ransom him, I asked for him for a husband, and my father, who gives me anything, almost, that I want, promised him to me. But I don't know now whether I really, want him― or not."

"Then why not let him go?" asked Howard. "Persuade your father to take the ransom I have offered and let him go, and get him to send you to some Iowa where you can be educated and have your voice trained. I will promise you plenty of friends to help."

She looked at him again, steadily this time. "I have thought what I will do, I will let him go on one condition," she said.

"Good," said Howard. "And what is that?"

"On condition that you marry me instead!'' she replied. "I thought all the English would be like Lord Ponderry. and I didn't think very much of him, but now I have seen you, I would sooner have you by far. And you shall take me away to the great cities' later on, and we shall be so happy."

"But-good heavens!" exclaimed Russell Howard; "you're a jolly nice girl and all that, you know, but I don't want to marry anyone, just now. It takes ever so much longer than that to make up your mind to get married in England; and you waul to be like an English girl, don't you? So why not let us go as I said, and go to some large city and get educated, and be an English girl your-self?"

"But you said just now that I was nice and had a lovely voice― so why won't you marry me?" she asked mournfully.

"Well, I want to love a girl before I marry her," he replied. "And although "you are very nice, still I don't love you, although I might like you very much."

She still looked unconvinced.

"But if you Ind longer time to know me, perhaps then you would love me," she said.

"Perhaps," returned Howard. "But even then you should wait for me to tell you that I did and ask you to marry me. It is not for an English girl to tell a man that she wants to marry him."

A look of determination came in her face, and her pretty mouth was pressed into a straight line. She frowned and then broke out:

"But I am not an English girl. At least, not altogether, and I am glad of it, for I am not such a poor creature as can wait for you to ask me to marry you. My father is tho Lord of these Mountains, and I am his daughter; it is for me to say whom I shall marry ! And now I say I will marry you! At first I thought it was the Lord Ponderry who should be my husband, but now I see that he is only half a man beside you. I love you, I am sure; and you shall marry me first and then you will learn to love me after."

She said this with the gestures of a queen speaking to her subject, and Howard could not help but admire her as she stood up straight as a reed before him.

"It's no use," he said after a pause, "I do not want to marry you."

She drew herself up proudly and silenced him with a gesture.

"It matters not," she said. "I will seek my father now, and tell him that I  have changed my mind."

She ran lightly away as she spoke, and Russell Howard stood looking after her, the wish to laugh struggling with an admiration for her regal beauty.

She disappeared from view around the rocks without a backward glance, and he returned to the hut and Lord Ponderry.

"Well, what luck?" asked that gentleman as he entered.

"I only seem to have mixed it up more," said Russell Howard. "I'm sorry, I old chap, but I seem to have cut you out. She wants to marry me now."

Lord Ponderry looked up, and somehow did not seem to be quite as pleased as might be expected:

"What for?," he asked.

"I'm blest if I know," replied Howard, "I told her I didn't want to marry, and you didn't, and tried to reason it out of her head; but she seemed to get determined all of a sudden and rushed off to find papa and tell him the altered arrangements."

Lord Ponderry grunted. His vanity had received a blow. Although he had no desire to marry this beautiful daughter of a Sicilian bandit, he could not but feel flattered at her persistent choice, and had a secret feeling that it was hard on the poor girl, but it could not be helped if his charms broke her heart. Now it was a rude shock to find that she had transferred her affections to the next man who appeared upon the scene.

His reflections were broken in on by papa, who now appeared. He  addressed Howard abruptly.

"My daughter says she will now marry you. The other man can go," he said with an indifferent wave of the hand. "For him I shall take the money that you have offered, and shall only keep him now until yon obtain it."

"But I object !" said Howard. "I am not going to marry your daughter. Of course I should esteem you as a father-in-law and all that, you know; but I don't want to settle down just yet. So, although I thank you and your daughter exceedingly for the honour, still I feel that I must refuse."

Luigi Castelligno scowled.

"There is no refusing!" he said. "My daughter has chosen you, though as a matter of course she could have bad any man of the band, and you she shall have, or neither of you goes back alive."

"I'm sorry you take it so much to heart," said Howard, "but, to my mind, the girl is of course very silly not to have one of the good-looking and interesting gentleman of your band, and really I cannot accept the offer."

Luigi looked at him searchingly. "Perhaps you can be made to alter your opinion," he said. "Listen to this! If you do not agree, then you and your friend here will be pushed over the precipice yonder; and to show you that I are in earnest, he shall go now."

"Then you will lose your ransom," said Howard.

"That is nothing," he answered. "It is for Bianca."

Russell Howard and Lord Ponderry looked at each other, and Lord Ponderry turned pale.

"I'm hanged if I want to do any flying acts," he said.

"And I'm hanged if I want to get married," said Howard. "Perhaps the old chap's only bluffing. We'll try him a bit further."

He turned to the brigand.

"No!" he said. "I cannot agree to your terms, it is unreasonable to ask me to marry your daughter the first time I have seen her, and I warn you that if you should harm us the English Government will hunt you down and take their revenge."

Luigi's answer was to step to the door and whistle shrilly.

"Several of his men came running up, knives or guns in their hands, and some carrying lanterns.

He waved his hand towards Lord Ponderry.

"Take that one," he said, "and throw him over the precipice, and bring the  other man along to see."

They laid hands on both of them and dragged them along to the cliff. Lord Ponderry was forced perilously near the edge and called out:

"For heaven's sake, give in, Howard!"

Howard was trying to see if they were in earnest, and to all appearance they were.

"Stop!" he cried. "I give in."

"It is as well," said the brigand. "In another minute your friend would have  been flung into the depths below."

They went back to the hut, both feeling somewhat quiet and shaky. The brigand left them there.

"I shall tell Bianca you agree," he said, "and send for the priest. Tonight there shall be feasting and drinking, and to-morrow the wedding."

The faces of his followers brightened at the mention of the feasting, and the waved their hats to the Englishmen and cheered.

NEITHER of the two had much to say as they sat there in the dark, each occupied with his own thoughts, and half an hour had passed with hardly a word spoken when there came again the sound of song from the rocks outside.

Howard looked up. "By Jove, she can sing!" he said. "I wonder if I could persuade her to give up this idea of her if I tried again.

Lord Ponderry did not answer, so he got up and went out. Perhaps it was the witchery of the evening, or because the memory of her song was still ringing in his ears, but he found himself wondering as he sat beside her and saw dimly her beauty enhanced by the glory of the night, if it would b so hard indeed to bring himself to love this wild daughter of the mountains.

Some thought like this made him remain silent for awhile, and she stole a look sideways at him as he sat.

"Are you angry with me?" she asked presently.

"No," he replied. "You are too beautiful to be angry with."

She smiled. "Then why so quiet?"

"I was almost wishing that I could love you," he said.

"And why not?" she said. "Would it be so hard?"

He came back to himself and involuntarily sat straight up.

"I am sorry," he said, "but it would."

"And why?" she asked softly.

"Well― because we live in different worlds," he said. "You feel the difference between yourself and these followers of your father. You belong to worlds far apart. Well, I could never be happy if I should live here, for my heart would be in the world I had left."

"But you could take me to it," she said.

"I think not," he said gently― then, " Yon say you love me. "Do you?"

"Yes," she said simply, and Russell Howard had a feeling almost of shame as she turned her beautiful eyes to his face and he saw the expression haunting them.

"Then," he continued more gently, "would you not wish to do something for me?"

"Yes!" she answered again. "Anything in my power."

"Then," he went on, and he let his hand rest on hers, "why not let me go?"

He half expected her to blaze out again, but perhaps it was the magic of the night, or perhaps some feeling of real love had touched her, and made her willing for a sacrifice, for she remained steadily gazing out before her into the night.

His hand lay on hers, and for some minutes she did not move: only Howard could see the light of the brightly-shining stars reflected sparkling in her eyes .

"Do you wish it?" she said, softly.

"Yes," he answered.

"Then you shall go," she said.

Howard took her hand in his and pressed it.

"Thank you," he said, and there was a slight tremor in his voice as he spoke.

He rose and helped her to her feet.

She gave her shoulders a shake, as if to throw off her thoughts.

"But now we must arrange how you shall go," she said. "My father must not be told. He would be angry, and even I would not be able to restrain him."

She thought for a while.

"Listen," she said. "Presently the drinking and feasting will commence. The night will be given over to merry-making. Now you and your friend must drink with the rest, and see that they all have enough to make them drunk. The guards will be left, but I shall take them wine, and they will not refuse to drink to my wedding to-morrow. Then when everyone is helpless I shall come for you and guide you to where you will be in safety ; but you must promise me on your honour that you will do no harm to any here."

"I promise," he said solemnly.

"Then you had better go back to your hut now and tell your friend to be ready."

"Cannot I see you back first?" he asked.

"No," she replied. "I shall sit here awhile." Then she smiled. "Go now," she said. "I shall see you again."

Howard turned to go, then hesitated and turned towards her again. She made no sign, and he went off slowly to the hut. Somehow he did not feel as cheerful us he should at the thoughts of getting away.

One of the men came presently to call them to the banquet, and they were set one on the right and the other on the left of the chief. All those who were not on guard were there, and the wine was unstinted.

As the night wore on some grew merry and some quarrelsome. Songs were sung with a gravity or abandon ludicrous to see. Knives were drawn, and the Englishmen expected every minute to see a fight break out. They kept the chief well supplied with wine, and saw to it that his followers should not lack reasons for drinking deeply. The trouble was that Luigi also jealously insisted upon seeing them drain glass after glass, and soon Howard felt the fumes mounting to his head.

Lord Ponderry had given in long before. His legs were helpless, but he had sense enough left to drop his head on his arms and feign a sleep that was soon real enough.

Russell Howard, by the aid of the table, got to his feet, and filling his glass again, and that of Luigi, called:

"Friends, another glass to the morrow!"

His voice sounded strangely far away, but only three or four were able to raise their glasses to their lips in response. These drained them, but he put his  down again, this time without Luigi at his side noticing. He felt he could wait no longer; that he must get out in the open and let the cool breeze blow on his forehead and he turned and held the brigand's arms to his side. That worthy's head dropped forward on his breast, and he simply grunted.

Howard saw he had nothing to fear from him, and he turned rather unsteadily to Lord Ponderry. He shook him again and again, but could not wake him, and at last dragged him by the shoulders from his seat and through the door.

One or two of the men looked at him with vacuous eyes, but none of them at-tempted to move. Outside he let Lord Ponderry slip in a heap to the ground, and he leant against the wall. Then the figure of Bianca, seemed to come from nowhere and sway before him. She seemed to be speaking far away, though he reached out and touched her.

"All the guard are asleep," she said. "Come!"

They bent over Lord Ponderry, and shook him again without effect.

"We must carry him. We cannot delay."

She slipped her arms under his shoulders, and Howard held his feet-, and together they staggered down the rough path.

To Russell Howard afterwards this night appeared like a dream. They seemed to be walking for ages, until at last they came to a clear, running stream. Here they stopped, and he dipped his head in the clear water and laved his face and wrists. Then he splashed water over Lord Ponderry, and at last succeeded in waking him.

He eat up and stared about, and presently Russell Howard managed to make him understand that Bianca had brought them thus far, and now they must push, on by themselves. The dawn was just breaking in the east and they could see their way.

Lord Ponderry struggled to his feet and faced Bianca.

"Good girl," he said thickly. "Fine girl, Bianca. I almost love you. Can't lemme go 'thout a kiss now, can you. Kiss an' say goo'-bye, y' know."

He attempted to clasp her in his arms, but she laughed lightly and slipped past him.

Howard had reached out a hand to stay him, and she came to him.

She laid her hands lightly on his shoulders. "There's no kiss for him," she said, "and you did not ask for one, but there is one for you."

And before he could move, she had kissed him on the brow, and turning, ran nimbly up the path.

"Tha'sh pretty rough," mumbled Lord Ponderry; but Howard was watching her as she stepped lightly from stone to stone mounting upwards.

His face was very sober, and he did not smile even when he waved in answer to her fluttering kerchief as she disappeared from view, and there still remained a thoughtful look as he took Lord Ponderry's arm and started him on their tramp back to safety.

__________________

5: The Scheming Lady

RUSSELL HOWARD laughed.

"I think that's about the most extraordinary proposition I have ever had put to me," he said. "Don't you think a marriage agency or something in that line is more what you want, Miss Vansselin?"

Miss Vansselin was a little lady of about fifty, with a shrewd but not unpleasant face.

Her eyes twinkled as she spoke again. "Now, Mr. Howard, we Americans are supposed to know what we want, and sometimes― pretty nearly always― we get it. Now, I'm set on getting Lord Ponderry for my niece, and as you are a friend of his, and also set up to be equal to any problem that's brought along, I have come to you to arrange for him to meet us. I will just want you to come along with him a few times in case he might be shy by himself; then, I guess, my niece and I can do the rest."

"I don't know whether I altogether like it," said Howard. "Lord Ponderry's not exactly a great friend of mine; he's more of an acquaintance, you know; still, I hardly care about trying to influence anyone I know with regard to choosing a wife."

"That's all right now," said Miss Vansselin. "I don't want you to influence him at all. I guess Maida will do that when he sees her. You're only to make the opportunities for him to see her. Now, surely you're not going to let this stick you up after all the big things you have brought off."

Miss Vansselin was persistent. Russell Howard had vainly endeavoured to shake her off for some lime, but she insisted on having his help.

"Oh, very well, then," he said at last, laughing. "If that's all you want, I don't suppose it will lie very heavily on my conscience."

"Good !" she said. "Shake― and here's your cheque."

Howard laughed again when she showed her certainly of getting him by having the cheque in readiness.

"I think I'd better wait until I earn it, don't you?" he said.

"No, you don't!" she replied triumphantly. "You're going to take it now, then I'll be sure of you, for you can't back out."

He took the cheque and put it carefully away in his pocket-book. The amount made his eyes open. Miss Vansselin must be extremely anxious to have Lord Ponderry for a nephew-in-law.

"And now," he went on, "about our first meeting?"

"I leave that to you," said Miss Vansselin. "When and how you like."

"Well, then," he asked, "could you drive in the park to-morrow? I will get Lord Ponderry to take a stroll with me, and we can arrange a casual meeting. I will find some way of sending you word where to be."

"Excellent!" said Miss Vansselin. "It sounds quite like an intrigue."

Howard laughed.

"Perhaps you would like me to arrange for your horses to bolt, or something like that, so that Lord Ponderry could manage a heroic rescue."

"No, thank you," said Miss Vansselin drily, "I don't think I will chance that. There is one thing I haven't told you," she went on, "and that is, that Maida doesn't know anything of this. It's all my own arranging, and if you said anything to her, it would spoil all, for she is very high-spirited."

Russell Howard looked slightly surprised. Miss Vansselin certainly seemed a remarkable little lady.

"Then I shall introduce you as an old friend, shall I?" he asked.

"Yes, that will do," she said. "I will say I was an old friend of your father's. I might have been, you know, for I have been in England a good deal."

MATTERS fell out nicely the next day. Howard met Lord Ponderry apparently by accident, in the early afternoon. He generally knew where to find him. In fact, often his greatest trouble was in dodging him; for Lord Ponderry had taken a great fancy to him since the affair of the Sicilian brigands. When he met him it was an easy matter to arrange a stroll in the Park.

Neither Miss Vansselin nor Russell Howard was surprised when they presently met, although Miss Vansselin's niece and Lord Ponderry had not the  slightest idea that this chance meeting had been elaborately arranged for.

"Why, Mr. Howard!" exclaimed the elder lady. "How delightful to meet you. You have not met my niece, Miss Grayson, I think."

Then Lord Ponderry was presented to both ladies, and graciously received.

Miss Vansselin chatted away vigorously, including Lord Ponderry in the conversation, and it was easy to see that both aunt and niece had made an excellent impression on that gentleman.

"But we cannot talk here," Miss Vansselin at last. "Mr. Howard's father was an old friend of mine, and we have ever so much to talk about." Then turning to Howard:

"Won't you come and see me to-morrow evening; that is, if you have nothing else to do and do not mind a quiet chat with an old maid; and bring your friend Lord Ponderry, with you, too, if he cares to come."

Lord Ponderry, with an eye on Miss Grayson, made haste to accept provisionally on Russell Howard's agreeing, and as that gentleman found he would be able to accept also, they parted with a promise to call .

Although Russell Howard had addressed most of his conversation to the aunt, he had found time to study the niece, and arrived at the conclusion that she presented a most attractive appearance.

Again and again he had looked away from her, only to find that his eyes wandered back again to make sure that his last impression was correct . Each time that he looked he decided that he could find no fault with her face: and each time he discovered some little feature that added to its beauty. Her clear cut features had an air of repose and sweetness. Her dark hair came softly round her face and on to the nape of her neck in little waves, and her eyes were clear and straight and friendly. Altogether there was a fresh look about her which spoke of health and good spirits.

Both men stood for an appreciable space of time with their hats raised, as the carriage drove away.

''By Jove!" said Lord Ponderry, "she's rippin'."

"Which?" asked Howard; "the aunt or the niece?"

"The niece, of course," said Lord Ponderry. "Lord! what a face she's got― and her foot. Did you notice her foot just showing out from under the rug? The aunt seems a good sort, too, you know; got plenty to say for herself and seems to appreciate a chap."

Somehow Lord Ponderry's admiration seemed to annoy Howard, and during the remainder of their walk he was not a talkative companion.

He felt he need not have had any compunction in arranging this meeting, seeing how quickly Lord Ponderry had risen to the bait, but he felt mad inwardly at having anything to do with the aunt's persuading this girl to accept Lord Ponderry, who, although a good sort in his way, seemed altogether too insignificant a man for such a nice girl. He found himself anathematising the aunt for trying to bring about such a match, and blaming the girl for being willing, as no doubt she would be, to sacrifice herself for a title.

Their little, informal party of four that night was the first of many. They found the two American ladies charming, and, as there were many places they wished to see, there were constantly opportunities offering of arranging pleasant little excursions, and, at night, there were visits to the theatre, or, better yet, charming little informal dinner parties, when the ladies entertained them without having any other guests to bother about.

Russell Howard endeavoured to keep to his part of the compact by making opportunities for bringing Miss Grayson and Lord Ponderry together, and yet he had to confess to an uncomfortable feeling when he succeeded, although he most loyally held aloof. Still, his attention wandered while the aunt was telling him some of her stories of the States, and he found himself occasionally glancing at the niece when he should have been paying attention to her.

If he liked being in Miss Grayson's company he certainly had no cause for complaint while at the Vansselin apartments, for he frequently found that he was left to entertain the younger lady, while her aunt was charmingly appreciative of Lord Ponderry.

Once he mentioned this to Miss Vansselin.

"Oh!" she replied, "Maida is so distant that I have to add a little warmth to our reception of Lord Ponderry, or he might not think we wished to have him with us. Some men are so sensitive to little things like that, so I am doing my best to make him see how we appreciate him, and I can plead Maida's cause to him better than she could herself; and really the dear man seems to like nothing better than to be allowed to talk about her. It seems altogether to be a case of love at first sight with him, as I expected it would be."

Russell Howard could not repress a slight smile at the idea of Lord Ponderry being at all thin-skinned and likely to be frozen off by a cool reception, but he felt anxious to know if Miss Grayson was is ready to accept him as the aunt was.

"And your niece?" he asked. "Do you think she cares at all about him? Do you think it's quite fair to her, supposing she should not want him?"

"Oh, of course she will have him when she knows I wish it," she said. "You see, all my money will go to her, some day, and she is entirely dependent upon me for everything. My brother-in-law― her father― died without leaving her a cent, and her prospects of being rich depend altogether upon her pleasing me."

Russell Howard was surprised at the hardness of her reply, for she had always appeared to be extremely fond of her niece, and anxious above everything for her welfare. Something of his thoughts must have appeared in his face, for Miss Vansselin looked at him sharply and said:

"You don't approve of my ideas; but I am getting to be an old woman now, and have seen a good deal more of the world than my niece, and am certainly in a better position to judge of what is best for her than she is herself; and I am anxious to make a good match for her― and secure her a title, so that she can hold her own in society."

"But, good heavens. Miss Vansselin!" replied Howard, "surely that is not everything. Don't you consider the girl's happiness at all?"

"Happiness?" echoed Miss Vansselin. "I don't see that that comes in at all. Lord Ponderry seems to me to be a very desirable sort of man. He is steady, as far as lords go, and is not likely to be run away with by any new fads or ideas. I admit that he is not what you might call brilliant, but he is safe, and that if the great thing. If I don't marry my girl to some safe man, she will, in all probability, be going off with some fellow who is after her money; but, you can take it from me, that if she doesn't marry the man who pleases my fancy I will leave all my money to charities."

THE NEXT day Lord Ponderry inflicted himself on Russell Howard and haunted his rooms all the morning. He would come in and drop into a chair with what he fondly imagined to be an unconcerned air, and pester Howard with utterly inconsequent remarks.

As, however, Howard made no attempt whatever to enlarge upon them, and was indeed, barely friendly, the conversation languished, and Lord Ponderry would retire behind a newspaper which he would look at without reading, and after fidgeting about for some time, would go out, to put in an appearance perhaps an hour later. At last, at one of his visits, after some more than usually inane remarks and curt replies. he cleared his throat preparatory to speaking again with such suddenness, that Howard looked up startled.

He blushed furiously and looked like retreating precipitately, but evidently he had made up his mind to get it out, and made a rush:

"Er― look here, Howard. You've been a good sort to me, you know. Er― I want you to give me a little advice. That is― I want you to tell me how you think I stand. You might have noticed it, you know, that I think a lot of Maida Grayson!"

To Russell Howard this sounded like an intolerable familiarity. Lately he had taken to thinking of her as Maida in his own thoughts, and felt annoyed tin anyone else should have been thinking of her in the same way. He frowned but Lord Ponderry continued, too wrapped up in his own case to notice.

"She's a great sort of a girl, ye know, and fit for any position in society, I'm sure; and I've made up my mind lately she's just the sort of wife I want." Lord Ponderry's voice got rather mournful as he went on:

"Now, I've tried to make her see in little ways lately what I've been driving at, but I'm hanged if I can tell you what she thinks. I know the aunt's all right. She's on my side, I can tell. She thinks a lot of me; but the niece seems just to stand off and just doesn't let you at all what she thinks.

"Now, I want to know, what's a fellow to do? Two or three times I've  thought of asking her, but, hang it, she might refuse and then my chance is spoilt."

He finished tamely and looked appealingly at Howard.

He looked so miserable that Howard felt he could not feel offended any longer. After all, Lord Ponderry was ,al together in earnest, and had just at much right to fall in love with a nice girl as he had, and he recognised now that was what it had come to.

"Do you think your chances will improve by waiting?" he asked.

"No; I can't see that they will," replied Lord Ponderry.

"Then, if I were in your position," said Russell Howard, although it hurt him to give the advice, "I should go of straight away and find out. I know Miss Vansselin thinks a lot of you, and from what I know she will have a lot of influence on Miss Grayson. After all you will feel more satisfied when you know one way or the other; that is, if you've quite made up your mind to ask her."

Lord Ponderry got up and groped about till he got hold of Howard's hand and shook it.

"You're right, old chap. I'll go right away and find out. It is what I though of doing, and now you say so it settled it."

Howard felt he must know the result so he said :

"Ring me up as soon, as you can and let me know how you get on. I shall be anxious to hear."

He did not say how anxious, and Lord Ponderry was in too much of a hurry to get away, now that his mind was fully made up to notice that he had omitted to wish him luck.

After he had gone, Russell Howard tried to settle down to work. He had plenty to do, and took up a sheet of notes to read through and revise. Presently he found he had read nearly to the bottom of the page without being aware of one word that was on it, while his bran was working out imaginary interview of the two American ladies by Lord Ponderry.

Again and again he forced himself to start over and give it his attention, but after three or four words his thoughts would waver, till at last he threw it down in disgust.

He sat listening alertly for the ring of the telephone, although he knew it was altogether too soon to expect to hear. Then at last he got out his colours and an unfinished sketch, and started work on that.

He worked away desperately until he had succeeded in totally spoiling it, and threw it away also. Then he picked out a piece of plain sketching board and proceeded to thoughtfully cover it with faces. All of them were of the same girl, with dark hair, brushed up from the nape of her neck; with dark eyes and eyebrows, and a perfectly shaped mouth. He tried again and again, but there was one that he particularly fancied, and he kept going back to it to add just another little touch.

At last his brush hesitated over it. He was wondering whether just another little bit of colour on the cheek would improve it or spoil it. At last he decided not to risk it, and put his brushes down. He leant his sketch against the back of a chair and looked at it from a little distance. It certainly suggested the original, as he surveyed it with very lenient eyes.

He gazed at it for a while and then came to the conclusion that he should behave sensibly, so put it away face downward in a drawer and firmly turned the key.

Evidently Lord Ponderry was not going to be in a hurry to ring him up. Possibly he was by now so happy that he had forgotten all about his promise, so Howard resolutely put on his hat and went out.

After lunch he tried to linger as long as he could, but soon found himself back in his rooms. He inquired if any message had come for him, but there had been none. He managed to force himself to settle down to work now, although he determined to stay in, in case any message should come.

It was late in the afternoon when a messenger brought a note, not from Lord Ponderry, but from Miss Vansselin.

She wrote:

Dear Mr. Howard,

I have tried, several times to ring you up, but there has been some interruption to the wires, and I could not get through. Lord Ponderry called to see Miss Grayson this morning, you will understand for what reason, but I am grieved to say that I was disappointed in my niece.

Poor Lord P. went away quite cut up. It is so unfortunate after all our trouble, but we must try again. Will you come and see me this evening and talk it over? The messenger will wait for a reply.

Sincerely yours,

Helen Vansselin.

Howard took paper in front of him and dug his pen in the ink savagely.

After several attempts he at last succeeded in producing a note that satisfied him. He wrote :

Dear Miss Vansselin,

I cannot honestly say I am sorry that your plans have fallen through, although I regret that I have been forced into the position of having to aid them.

Miss Grayson is in my opinion much too nice a girl to be forced into marrying merely for the sake of a title, and I would advise you to have sufficient confidence in her to allow her to make her own choice. I return your cheque herewith, as I did not cash it, and do not feel that I can accept it.

Had Miss Grayson acceded to your wishes, I should have kept it without any qualms, but now I am only too happy to be able to return it.

Yours sincerely,

Russell Howard.

He said nothing about any future meeting for he recognised that he could not now meet them on the old footing, and should he wish to see them, it must not be under the plea of business.

Half an hour later Miss Vansselin succeeded in getting him on the telephone, and although he endeavoured to excuse himself, she was insistent that he should call and see her. She considered that she had engaged him for a certain purpose, and she required a personal interview before she would sever business relations.

Perhaps the hope that he might see Miss Grayson again made his resistance weaker than it might have been, and at last he promised to call at eight-thirty.

Punctually at that time he inquired for Miss Vansselin, and a smiling servant showed him into her drawing-room.

There was only Miss Grayson there, however, leaning back in her chair with a book. She looked up in surprise as she saw who her visitor was, and the colour slightly deepened in her cheeks.

"I really called to see your aunt," he said, as he shook hands.

"Oh, she will not be long," she replied. "She was called away for a few minutes. She said she had an appointment with you, and told me to ask if you would mind waiting."

Conversation somehow seemed difficult. He knew what had taken place during the morning, and she had an idea that he knew.

Howard, usually not at a loss, made some further remark about her aunt's absence.

"She cannot be long," she said. "I cannot think where she can have gone. I suppose you are anxious to see her?"

"Oh, not exactly," said Howard, "it's not important, you know," and relapsed into silence again.

She seemed to be intently studying the pattern of the carpet and tracing it out with the point of her shoe. He asked nothing better for the time being than to watch her. After he had seen her aunt, perhaps―

Presently she looked up and found him watching. She felt she must say something to break the ice, and blundered straight into personalities.

"I don't seem to have seen much of you just lately, Mr. Howard," she said. "You seem to avoid me every time we meet."

Howard was startled. He felt guilty, for lately he had tried to force himself to keep away.

"Avoid you?" he said. "Nonsense! I couldn't be guilty of it.' But somehow his disavowal sounded tame to himself. If he could only have told her why he had tried to keep away. That it was  because he felt there was no hope for him.

"Oh, but you have," she replied. "There was the other evening at Lady Lumsdaile's dance; you hardly spoke to me. At least nothing more than was civil. And then, the other afternoon on the river, you left me altogether to Lord Ponderry, and talked with my aunt all the time. I haven't offended you in any way, have I?"

"Offended me!" he said. He stood up and came over closer to her. "If I have kept away from you it was because I could not trust myself to be with you, and I thought― I thought you were going to marry Lord Ponderry."

"I never thought of it!" she exclaimed, almost indignantly.

"But your aunt wished it," said Howard.

"Even if my aunt did wish it, I am sure she would wish me to please myself," she said, "Really, I don't see what that would have to do with it."

"But if your prospects in the future depend on it?" he asked.

She stood up and faced him, a hurt look in her eyes. He looked her straight in the face, and her expression gradually softened.

"I'm sorry," he said gently. "I did not think it would― only I had to tell you that, before I could tell you I loved you."

When Miss Vansselin looked in the door two minutes later, she saw something that made her give a slight cough, and she then had the experience of seeing two people trying to look unconcerned under embarrassing circumstances.

Howard stood his ground and faced her, but Maida slipped round behind her, out of the door.

"So this is why you have returned my cheque!" said Miss Vansselin.

Howard began to speak, but she stopped him with a smile.

"Let me congratulate you," she said, "I cannot tell you how pleased I am."

Howard was astonished.

"But I thought you wanted Lord Ponderry!" he exclaimed.

"No, I wanted you for her all the time," she said, "and this was my little scheme to bring you together. Maida, of course, knew nothing of it. She is a fine girl, and I knew she would not be taken with Lord Ponderry, even with my money thrown in, and I thought the money would not influence you.

"What I said about knowing your father was not all romance. I used to know him years ago, before he married your mother, and we don't mind admitting these things when we are getting old― if he had asked me I should not have said no. Well, he never knew, but I haven't seen another I cared for like him and when I saw how like him you were, I made up my mind to bring you and my niece together if I could manage it. So this was my little plot. Do you think you can forgive me?"

There was a moistness in the little lady's eyes as she spoke of Russell Howard's father, and, when she asked him to forgive her, she laid her hands on his shoulders and he bent down and kissed her.

"It seems to me there is nothing to forgive," he said. "You have given me the whole world."

________________

6: Two Wax Candles

ALTHOUGH Russell Howard brought most of his problems to a thought-out conclusion, there were, without doubt, some the success of which depended either entirely or to a great extent upon chance.

In the case of Lord Ponderry, for instance, the result depended to a very great degree of chance. No one, not even Russell Howard himself, could have fore-seen how that would turn out. Possibly he would have found a way for himself, but when he found the Goddess of Luck was helping him, he was content to follow her directions and merely take a hand when necessary.

So also with the commission given him by Graystone Parker.

When he found Sir Alexander Brown and brought him to London, there is no doubt that he did all that Graystone Parker ever intended that he should do. The consummation of the remaining part of his commission was a matter entirely out of his control, although it is possible, of course, that he might have brought it about in some other way.

When Mr. Parker came to him at his rooms one afternoon early in December, on a dull, cold day, when it was good to draw the curtains closer and sit over a fire with an interesting book, and offered him a commission, he at first refused.

Mr. Parker's daughter, twelve months before, had married a man representing himself as a wealthy American. The Parkers were people of moderate means; and the father and the daughter, being the only representatives of the family alive, were very much attached to each other. They managed each year to take a holiday away together, and, on one of these trips, when staying in the Lake Districts for a few weeks, they first met Mr. Alexander Brown.

He appeared from the start to be much attracted by Miss Parker, and was constant in his attentions. Possibly he may have contracted a wrong idea as to Mr. Parker's financial position. Anyhow, wherever they went he managed to follow, and before they returned home, he had proposed and been accepted. He appeared to know a number of people of good standing in England, and neither Mr. nor Miss Parker had any misgivings as to his character.

As he had to return to America within three months he pressed for an early marriage, and, within that time, he had taken his bride back to the States.

At first, according to Mrs. Brown's letters, she seemed happy enough. Her husband appeared to have a good business in New York, but beyond the fact that it was something in the brokering line she did not seem to know exactly what it was. Money was fairly plentiful, however, and, for the first six months, she wanted for nothing.

After that time, things took a turn for the worse. She often had difficulty in obtaining money for her immediate needs, and the household bills mostly remained unpaid. Her husband, when he returned home of an evening, had frequently been drinking; not greatly to excess, perhaps, but still more than was good for him. He would hold forth bitterly about his bad luck over money matters, and, as often as not, would reproach her with being a drag upon him. Although matters were in this state for some months. Mr. Parker gathered no hint from his daughter's letters of her trouble, until these letters abruptly ceased.

His anxiety was great, for his daughter had been a regular correspondent, never failing; and, when three weeks had passed without news, he determined on going to New York.

He arrived just in time to save her life. On going to their address he found the place closed and empty, and, on making enquiries, found that Alexander Brown had failed nearly, a month previously. He had lost everything and had disappeared completely. No one knew where he had gone.

Mr. Parker immediately employed detectives, and, after some days' searching. discovered his daughter and her baby lying ill in a wretched shanty in one of the poorest parts of New York.

When the smash came everything had been sold and they moved into cheap lodgings. Here her husband had collected almost all of their  personal effects, except her clothes, on which any money could be raised, and deserted her. She was almost too ill to move and could not believe that he had left her altogether without any intention of returning, although, for some time past he had seemed absolutely indifferent to her. The days went past, however, and he did not come back, and, being unable to pay her board any longer, the lodging house keeper had turned them out.

She had tramped from one quarter to another looking for shelter and at last found it, wretched as it was, in a poverty-stricken corner, in return for her only change of dress.

Mr. Parker immediately had her removed to comfortable quarters, and, after two or three weeks' nursing, she was able to stand the trip to England.

Although, he had spent a considerable amount of time and money in endeavouring to trace Alexander Brown, he was unsuccessful, and that gentleman appeared to have completely vanished.

Now he had come to Russell Howard to make him an offer. He was willing to pay him so much monthly for three months, if Mr. Howard would devote his time to finding him and bringing him to England. He was not a wealthy man, and could not afford to spend beyond a certain sum, but up to that point he was willing to go, and would pay for his time whether successful or not.

Howard at first refused. The business possessed no attractions, It was merely a matter of tracking a man down, and appeared to present none of those problems which it delighted him to attack.

Seeing that he was not interested, his visitor cunningly made a further proposal.

"Women," he said, "were peculiar beings. No one could tell how to take them."

Although he considered his daughter well rid of her scoundrel of a husband, she appeared to have a certain amount of pity for him, and would like to be satisfied as to what had become of him. He also believed that, if he would come back to her and ask for forgiveness, she would give it and take him back. He could see that she was wretched and unhappy, and as he wished for nothing but his daughter's happiness, he would ask Mr. Howard to try and bring her husband back, with a promise of reparation. He knew he was setting Mr. Howard a difficult task, but he had overcome so many difficulties that perhaps he could see his way lo do this.

Now just this added touch made all the difference to Howard. To trace this man down might be hard, but still he had no doubt as to being able to do it; but to make a man of this kind feel sorry for what he had done and to bring him back to plead forgiveness from his wife was another matter, and the very difficulty of it attracted him.

It took little more persuasion to obtain his consent to undertake the work, and Mr. Parker departed, seeming well pleased.

The first part of Howard's undertaking proved not so difficult. From New York he traced Brown to California, then to Chicago, then back to New York; and finally ran him to earth in Manchester. There he struck up an acquaintance with him, and employed him in one or two small matters of business. He found him to be very impulsive, acting at times without reasoning. Although he bore traces of recent hard living he appeared anxious now to remain steady, and was attentive to whatever business was given him. He did not appear to be altogether bad, and Russell Howard was in hopes of bringing him to realise the despicableness of his behaviour to his wife, later on. At present, though, he hardly knew how to go about it, as the kind of missionary work was new to him. Brown seemed grateful, however, for the help that had already been given him, and Howard hoped, when he had settled him more securely in the way of earning a living, to Work on his gratitude and bring husband and wife together again. Personally, his own opinion would have been that the wife was better off without the husband, but, as she desired a reconciliation and he had undertaken the commission, he intended to do his best to bring it about.

From Manchester he had brought him to London on promise of employment, and had settled him in a room at a hotel, close by. So far he had not told Mr. Parker of his success. That gentleman had taken to drop in on him frequently and unexpectedly, and, lately, Howard had hardly liked the expression in his face as he inquired about Brown. He still held to the story that his daughter desired his return, but there was a shifty look in his eyes as he spoke, and Russell Howard's instinct seemed to warn him against telling him that Brown was in the same city.

Parker had seemed so unsettled on one or two occasions that he had had to calm him down, and suggested that he should go away for a change, and leave the latter entirely to him.

He had then quietened down, and said that he felt anxious for his daughter's sake and could not rest, till something had been done, and that afterwards he would go away for a holiday.

One afternoon he called and was shown into Howard's room when that gentleman was away.

As it also happened Brown had rung up about a quarter of an hour previously to ask if he might call round, as he wished to see him. The servant had taken the message, and, not knowing whether he was known to Howard, had asked him where he was speaking from, he had then written the message on a slip of paper and placed it on his table.

When Parker came in he walked restlessly about the room for a few minutes, and presently came to a stop in front of the table. The telephone message laid conspicuously on top of the paper caught his eye, and he picked it up excitedly as he read the name and address― "Brown, Torrey's Hotel."

He thrust the slip into his pocket and left hurriedly. Outside, he hailed a cab and had himself driven home, and there was a smile of triumph on his face as he let himself in at the door.

His daughter was away staying with friends, and there were only himself and a servant in the place.

He went to the telephone and rang up "Torrey's Hotel." On being told that Mr. Alexander Brown was in, he gave a message for him to call at No. 14 Camden-terrace, Lewisham, to see Mr, Howard, who wished him to go into a matter of business there as soon as possible.

Then he rang for the servant and told her he was going to do some work in the cellar for a while, and if a gentleman called and asked to see Mr. Howard, to tell him he was in the cellar working and ask if he would mind joining him there. If anyone else called, he was on no account to be disturbed.

After giving these instructions and making sure she understood them ho went to the cellar to make his final preparations.

In half an hour's time Mr. Brown called and asked to see Mr. Howard, who he said, expected him.

"Mr. Howard's busy in the cellar, said the girl. "He said you were to see him there if you didn't mind. Come along and I'll show you where it is."

She took him to the door. It was thick gloom inside, and he could distinguish nothing, but when someone called "Come in," he went in, and the door closed gently behind him.

The girl waited a couple of minutes but hearing nothing, went off upstairs.

He stood there in the darkness expecting someone to speak, but as no sound came:― "Are you there, Mr. Howard?" he asked.

There was no reply, and the darkness and silence were making him nervous.

"Anyone there?' he asked again in a slightly husky voice.

Still no answer, but he fancied lie heard a creeping rustling sound coming towards him.

He turned and felt for the door handle. When he found it he discovered that the door had been locked or else fastened with a catch, for it would not open.

He began to feel frightened, and his fingers trembled as he fumbled for a match. At last he found one and scraped it along the sole of his boot, but it failed to light, only crackled.

Before he could light it he felt a noose slipped over his head and a rope pulled tight, drawing his arms close to his sides. The match fell from his fingers, and he jumped on one side, tugging and straining.

His eyes were becoming more accustomed to the darkness, and he could dimly discern a dark form moving by his side. His struggles only tightened the rope, and presently he was jerked backwards nearly off his feet, and the rope was whipped round his legs. It tripped him up, and he fell with a crash to the floor. He was yelling now at the top of his voice, but the rope was being wound round and round his body and knotted, till presently he was quite unable to move. His mouth was then forced open, and a soft pad of cloth thrust in and held there by a scarf tied round his head and fastened at the back.

This effectually stopped his shouting, and he lay there silent and helpless.

His assailant left him, and presently he could hear the scratch of a match, and then paw a spurt of light.

He strained his head over on one side to watch, and saw a man carefully light a candle. He waited until it was fairly alight, and then, shading it with his hand, carried it over to him. Then for the first time he saw with whom ho had to deal. Parker, with a triumphant expression on his face seemed to tower above him and looked down upon him!

"You hardly expected to see me, he said. "I took this house specially to have the honour of entertaining you. I don't suppose I should have had the pleasure of a visit from you at the old place, and I don't suppose you would have come to see me had you known, but it was different coming to see Mr. Howard. Now we are going to have a quiet little talk together, you and I― but first I must give you a seat so that you will be comfortable."

His victim wriggled on the floor and his eyes stared dumbly at his captor.

There were two chairs at a small table, one on either side, and to one of these Parker dragged him, hauling him up to it and lashing him firmly to the back; finishing up by tying his legs to the lower rung.

There were two small metal candlesticks on the table, each .containing about an inch of wax candle carefully cut, with the wick projecting. Parker lit both of these and placed them in the centre of the table. Then he blew out the other light and sat down opposite Brown.

"These are all the candles I can spare," he said, "and while they last I am going to talk to you."

"First of all notice the candles.

"They are both the same size. I cut them as exactly as I could, and they should burn for almost exactly the same time.

"Now look again. One of them a nearer to me―  I'll pull it a little closer; and the other is nearer to you― just a little closer to you. Now there can be no mistake, can there?

"Well, the one near you is yours, and the one near me is mine.

"How does that affect you? You wonder. Well, to these I add a loaded revolver.

"Now let me explain. Should your candle go out first I am going to shoot you ; but should mine go out first I shall let you go. I am giving yon a chance, you scoundrel, that you don't deserve; but I am leaving it to a higher Power to judge you.

"When you left my daughter and your wife in New York did you have any pity for her? Did you think how she was to live, she and her baby? Did you know how I found her after days of searching? She was living in a wretched hovel with only a few rags to cover her. For two days she had been without food, and before that had sold her last dress to share the miserable meals of the people she was living with. Her baby was almost gone. Why, man! if you had sent word to me I should have come to her; but without a thought for anyone but yourself you abandoned her to starvation.

"When I found her and thought for some time that nothing could save her, I registered a vow that I would hound you down and kill you, like the dog that you are. Then she recovered, and, woman-like, tried to excuse you, saying that your mind must have given way with worry, and then I thought to get you into my power and leave it to a higher Power to say whether you should live or die.

"To do this I planned for some time, and carefully. I left the house in which I had been living, and took this one, which you would not know. The detectives I employed could not find you, so I called in the services of Russell Howard, who soon discovered you, and, what is more, enticed you to London.

"He had kept from me, however, the fact that he had found you. Whether he was suspicious of my motives or not I do not know; but it was through your own message I found you; for when I called to see him this evening your message and address were lying on his table. This was enough for me. My arrangements were simple and ready, as you see, and I enticed you here, suspecting nothing."

Brown had been sitting staring with straining eyes at his captor and from one candle to another, and every word seemed to burn into his brain.

The two candles were burning down evenly, slowly but surely.

The gag in his mouth prevented him from speaking, and although once or twice he tried, only choking, inarticulate sounds came.

He strained forward and struggled madly, but he was too tightly tied for his efforts to have any effect, and Parker looked on unconcernedly.

There were appeal and anguish in Brown's eyes as he realised that the other man was in deadly earnest, and there was but little time left before it would be decided whether he should live or die.

He gazed earnestly at his candle, measuring it in his mind, and then comparing it with the other. Now, he would think that it was burning faster, and then at times he fancied it was slower. He concentrated all his mind upon it, and tried to will that it should burn slower and slower, until, a mist seemed to gather before his eyes, through which a gigantic flame appeared to loom.

They sat there for some time in silence, each watching; a silence harder to bear than the reproaches Parker had been heaping upon him. Now and again he would try to move his feet or strain with his hands and body against the cords that bound him, but without result.

Parker sat now apathetically waiting the decision, a far-away look in his eyes. He was thinking of his daughter, and had forgotten her husband, until a choking sound brought him back to the present, and he reached out his hand for the revolver lying on the table before him.

The two pieces of candle were set on a solid stand, and not slipped into the cup of the candlestick, and they had now burned down so far that the wicks were wavering.

Brown was staring for all he was worth, and the strain was causing great drops of perspiration to trickle down his face.

It looked as if the wicks could stand no longer, and presently he gave another choking gasp as his wick fell sideways. His melted wax remaining newly extinguished it, but it flickered and still stayed alight, and now it was a race which would the sooner lick up the small portion of wax remaining and burn itself out.

WHEN RUSSELL HOWARD returned to his rooms with his friend Grierson, the servant told him that a man had called to see him. She described what he was like, and Russell Howard recognised him from the description to be Parker.

"A telephone message came for you, too," she said, "from a Mr. Brown, at Torrey's Hotel. I wrote it down and put it on your table."

"All right, thanks," he said, and they went on into his rooms.

Howard turned up the light, tossed his friend the evening papers, opened a couple of envelopes, and then glanced round for the telephone message.

He lifted out or two papers, and then looked on the floor to see if it had dropped down. There was no sign of it, although he searched everywhere.

Then he rang for the servant.

"Where did you sav you put that message for me?" he said, when she arrived.

"On top of the papers on your table," she said. "Can't you find it?"

"No. It seems to have gone," he said. "You are quite sure you put it there?"

"Oh, yes, sir," she replied. "Right on the top. You couldn't miss it."

"All right," he said. "It showed that it was from Mr. Brown at Torrey's Hotel, I think you said."

"Yes, sir. I asked him where he was, in case you didn't know."

The girl left, leaving Howard thinking. He turned to Grierson. "I'm going round to Torrey's Hotel for a few minutes," he said.  "Will you stay here or come along?"

Grierson saw ho looked rather serious.

"What's the matter!" ho said. "Likely to be any trouble? I'll come along if there is."

"All right," said Howard. "Got your hat and come along."

They went around to the hotel and enquired for Brown, and wore informed that he had gone out some time before.

Further enquiries elicited the fact that he had gone in response to a telephone message, but the boy who gave it to him could not remember tho address.

"Come along!" said Russell Howard. "I may be wrong, but I'm going to try Parker's place."

The got a cab outside and drove there as fast as tho horse could go.

When they rang the bell a girl appeared.

"Mr. Parker's not at home," she said, with an air of convincing finality in response to Russell Howard's request.

"But he expects me," he said.

"You're not the gentleman he expected," she said. "It was a Mr. Brown, and he called."

But he expects me as well as Mr. Brown," said Russell Howard.

The girl seemed to ponder for a while, then she shook her head.

"No, he's hout," she said, and tried to shut the door.

Howard pushed in before she could close it, Grierson following. They shut the door behind them, and the girl faced them in the hall, looking frightened but determined.

"Get out," she said, "or I'll call the police. Mr. Parker's not at 'ome, and you can't see him."

"It's all right, my girl," said Howard, as he tried to slip half-a-crown into her hand.

"You can keep your money!" she said. "Mr. Parker said 'e wasn't to be disturbed, and you ain't goin' to see him."

"Then he is at home!" said Howard. "It will save a lot of trouble if you take us to him now. It's something very important."

"No. You ain't goin' to see him," she returned. "'E said not to let anyone disturb him, and 'e 'as a gentleman with 'im now, and 'e ain't goin' to be disturbed."

"You hear that, Grierson," said Russell Howard. "Then I suppose there's nothing for it but to make a start. You stand by the front door and don't let the girl out."

Grierson took up his position near the door, and Howard picked up a poker from the fireplace in the front room, and inserting the point under the lid of a locked desk, began levering it up. The lock began to give, the wood cracking as it was being wrenched up.

The girl looked anxiously from one to the other. She darted forward as if to stop Russell Howard, and then to the front door; but Grierson held her there. Then she turned and ran down the hall.

"Come on, Grierson!" shouted Howard. "She'll show us where they are now."

They ran out at the back down some steps, and found the girl knocking and calling for help at the cellar door.

Russell Howard brushed her on one side and tried the handle. The door was locked, and he threw his whole weight at it. He could see it was too strong to open in that way and looked round for something to force it. Grierson dragged out from underneath some rubbish a pointed iron bar.

"Try this," he said. "Force the hinges, they'll come easier."

Howard forced the point in and levered and wrenched with all his might. The girl stood on one side, now, open-mouthed ; but aware that something serious was the matter.

The door gave at the top, and Grierson thrust a stout piece of wood and tugged, while Russell Howard attacked the lower part. With a rending and a cracking that gave also, and they pushed the door down and rushed in.

With the rush of air caused by the falling door two little points of flame in front of them flickered up and went out. At the same instant there was a sharp crack from a revolver, and the whiz of a bullet sounded uncomfortably near.

Howard bounded over to where a man was rising and holding a smoking revolver in his outstretched hand. He caught at his wrist, and with a quick wrench dragged it behind his back. Another wrench, and he held the revolver in his own hand, and the man he was holding collapsed with a meaningless laugh to the floor.

The opened door let in sufficient light to enable them to see another man sitting upright on a chair in front.

Howard struck a match and lit a candle on the table, then they saw that he was wound round and round with ropes and tied to the chair. At first they thought him dead, but presently found that he had only fainted, and they soon brought him round. He recovered enough to be able to tell them what had happened, and then they turned their attention to Parker.

The strain of the last few months had been too much for him, and he had broken down completely. The idea of avenging his daughter had taken complete possession of him until it amounted to nothing less than madness,  and Russell Howard could see that he was in for a bad illness.

They took him to a hospital, where he lay for some time with, a serious attack of brain fever. Brown they took back to the hotel, where they left him to his own thoughts.

A FEW DAYS afterwards Brown called on Howard. He looked so shaken and ill that Howard felt sorry for him. He told him fully all that had happened since he married Miss Parker, and in the end said:

"I had time, Mr. Howard, while sitting watching for that infernal candle to burn out, to think what a cad I had been. My only excuse is that I must have been mad. I do not believe I ever really cared for anyone but myself, and had no thought for anyone else. I know I have been a scoundrel and a blackguard, but don't you think I could change now?  I don't suppose my wife will have anything to do with me, but I want to work for her all the same and do something for her. I have made a promise to myself that I will do everything I can for her. Not that I can wipe out all the harm that has been done― but do you think she would believe me if I told her I was a changed man?"

Russell Howard looked steadily at him, and there was no mistaking the earnestness of his face.

"I think," he said, "that you will find she is very forgiving. I don't suppose you will find that she can forget all that has happened to her through you, but the best thing you can do is to go to her and tell her what you have told me― and perhaps she will forgive."

______________________

7: The Lady With the Pince-Nez

"THESE PICTURES, Mr. Howards, they are all souvenirs of somethings you have seen," said Mr. Bernstein.

Mr. Isaac Bernstein, of the firm of Bernstein and Bernstein, the financiers who had a European reputation, was looking round Russell Howard's room.

"You are an artist. Mr. Howards. I know many of these places mineself and have seen other pictures of them also, but these have somethings or other about them that is hard to describe, but is if the place itself, and the climate, and the atmosphere. That is so!"

Mr. Bernstein spoke English in a soft way that was pleasant to listen to. He smoothed off all the rough corners and occasionally added an s to a word in a caressing manner, that seemed almost to improve it, although marking his nationality, if his features could leave that for a moment in doubt.

Russell Howard was lazily lying back in a comfortable chair looking at his visitor through half-closed eyes. He knew that Bernstein had not come to talk for the mere pleasure of talking, and when he had suddenly risen from his chair and started a tour of the room, looking at the sketches that hung on the walls, he knew that his visitor was making up his mind to approach the object of his visit.

"You have travelled much, Mr. Howard, and you have also observed. The sketches of old Moscow; a wonderful place that, Mr. Howards. A blending of  two civilisations, the old one of the East and the new one of the West. And the colouring! You have caught it here. But St. Petersburg! Mr. Howards. That is also a city to see. You have perhaps been there?"

"Only passing visits, Mr. Bernstein. I had no opportunity of seeing as much as I should have wished, but hope to have the pleasure of going there again in the future."

Mr. Bernstein came to a pause before a sketch of part of the Kremlin. He appeared to be studying it interestedly. In reality he was finally making up his mind.

"How would you like to go there now. Mr. Howards," he said, with an appearance of great frankness. "The firm have business there and desire some information. This is, of course, regarded as secret. Mr. Howards, and if you are not prepared to accept our offer you will, of course, not say anythings about it to anyone else."

"All my undertakings are of course confidential, Mr. Bernstein," said Russell Howard, "but can you give me some idea of what is required; then I can better say whether I can help or not."

Mr. Bernstein sat down in a chair facing Howard. He was a stout little man, and his heavy face showed no expression, only his sharp black eyes were fixed on his companion's face while he spoke, and the fingers of his hands, which he clasped around his crossed knee, kept moving.

"It is this way," he said, "our firm has large dealings with Russia, in fact has had for years, and now with the threat of a Japanese war the Government desires that they shall be larger.

"The inducements they offer for money are large, but at the same time we require to check information that they have given us, by personal observation, as well as desiring knowledge of something that they do not see fit to communicate to us. These things are purely political, and if you represent us there would be no difficulties in your finding out what in wanted, for we have many agents there with whom we would put you in communication.

"No! there would be no difficulties as to that. The troubles would be to let us have the information here in England.

"The time we have to arrange things in is short, and we should want to hear somethings each day for say a week or a fortnight after you reached St. Petersburg. Now this is very necessary to us, and I will not disguise from you that it will mean some considerable amount of monies; and I am telling you this because Abraham Levi, for whom you arranged that little matter of the diamonds, spoke well of you and said I might trust you."

Howard bowed his acknowledgment. "But," he said, "how would you propose that I should communicate with you? Am I to take it that the ordinary channels would be closed to us?"

"That is it!" Mr. Bernstein exclaimed, as he uncrossed his legs and leant forward closer to Howard.

"A letter would not reach us without being tampered with, a cipher not at all. The Russian Government know as well as we do what it is we want, and it is to their advantage to keep it from us. Their spies have so far been successful, for we have already made attempts which have failed.

"That is why we have come to you, Mr. Howards. You have a reputation for devising schemes that no one else would think of. We want certain information and we want you to get it for us in the face of the Russian Government ; for you can take it from me that they are watching every move."

He took a sheet of foolscap from his pocket. "This is what we require to know. I would ask you to memorise it and then destroy the paper. It is all ordinary business, and cannot be against your conscience, and we are prepared to treat you most liberally, Mr. Howards, in the way of payment."

Howard read through a list of questions relating for the most part to matters bearing on arrangements for a probable war with Japan; some regarding arrangements with other Powers, and more especially touching on their financial relations with several of the other countries. He read them through carefully. They were for the most part questions that could only be answered by Government officials possessing a particular knowledge of these matters, and he could see at a glance that it would be next to impossible for him to obtain this information himself in the time at his disposal.

He handed the paper back to Bernstein.

"I am afraid, Mr. Bernstein, that I should have to depend wholly on your agents in St. Petersburg for the matters you require to know. For me, a stranger, to obtain it at such short notice would be an utter impossibility; but, granting that all information were given me, I think I could guarantee it reaching you promptly."

"That is it! Mr. Howards. We will get you all the informations there. We have means. Money can buy us nearly everythings there, but unfortunately we cannot buy over the censors, and what is the use of knowing somethings in Russia that we cannot know here."

"Would you have any objection," said Howard, "to a friend of mine here receiving my messages and forwarding them on to you? It will be necessary for the success of my plan, and I will guarantee his absolute secrecy on the  matter."

"We are in your hands, Mr. Howards, and if you cannot arrange the business without the help of your friend, then we must, of course, agree that he be included, though, naturally, we like to have as few as possible know of our affairs."

"Then," said Howard, "you may leave it to me to get into prompt communication with you from St. Petersburg."

AT THE BEGINNING of the next week Russell Howard, Esq., special representative of the Evening Mail, was in St. Petersburg, furnished with letters of introduction to a number of high officials and leading men, and commissioned to write a series of articles on Russian affairs.

He was well known as a traveller who was able to write in an original and entertaining way of things that he had seen, and it had been no hard matter to arrange with the editor of the Evening Mail for a series of personal observations on the Russian crisis, he had also arranged personally with his friend Harkness, the assistant editor, through whose hands the articles would pass, a simple cipher by means of which he would include in these articles messages to be delivered to the firm of Bernstein.

Bernstein's agent had already proved his activity by supplying him with matter for his first message, which he hoped to despatch on the morrow.

That evening, on the invitation of the Assistant Chief of Police, he was to attend a ball at which it was promised him he should meet a number of distinguished persons who would be only too glad to place at his disposal their views on the present situation, to be disseminated by him among the members of the British nation through the medium of the press, that power in England which they so greatly respected.

Howard had been received with frankness. Indeed, it appeared to him there was too much show of openness. He was assured every where that the Britisher misunderstood the Russian, and they were at pains to convince him of their genuineness. Just where the false note came in he could not say, but there appeared to hint something behind all this surface show of frankness. However, he was careful not to show the slightest sign of mistrust, and asked questions and made notes with just as great a show of openness himself.

The ball half through, had been a brilliant success. Everyone was chattering and laughing. It seemed as if any thought of coming trouble was far removed. Now and again, one or another mentioned the Japs.

"We'll eat them up," they said, "and then we'll go and have a good time in Tokio."

Russell Howard had been introduced to one general after another. Some of them well known to him by repute, and others, while holding high positions, he now heard of for the first time.  All of them were extremely affable and polite, and anxious to give him their impressions of affairs if it should happen they were of any interest.

At the same time he felt that he was being carefully guided along on a planned-out path. He went nowhere of his own volition, but was passed on from one to another. As soon as he had finished with one, there was another at his elbow to bring him to be introduced to someone else.

At last he found himself passed on to Madame Nemidoff.

"Madame Nemidoff," said General Stuyler, who introduced them, "can tell you everything that anybody else has not told you. She is a perfect treasury of knowledge. She knows all the latest gossip and all that is doing. You can take my word for it that you will be well entertained."

Madame Nemidoff was a little woman wearing pince-nez. She had extremely mobile features, and as she talked, her face, which would not perhaps be classed as pretty, became so sparkling and vivacious that it compensated to the full for any mere absence of beauty.

A knowledge of the Russian language was not one of Howard's achievements, so they spoke in French, and, as she rattled along in that tongue, talking of this one and that in the room, telling amusing little stories of  them all, with original little comments all her own, Russell Howard, who saw many things to amuse himself, could not fail to be interested.

They danced together through a waltz, and then sat out in a cool conservatory. He noticed that none of the others interrupted him now, and wondered what was expected of his companion.

They sat on a comfortable leather lounge. He was facing the door, where through the parted curtains he could get glimpses of the dancers in their bright uniforms and gay dresses.

She rested against the end of the lounge, but not for long at a time. Her spirits were irresistible, and she bent forward and leant back again as she talked. She most deliberately flirted with him― and he with her― when he saw that was expected of him.

"Your eyes, Monsieur Howard," she said after his last laughing remark, ''belie you. Men with eyes like yours hardly ever flirt― they are too serious― but you are serious underneath and frivolous on top, too."

"And your eyes, Madame," he said, "what can I see in yours?" and he leant forward laughing, and gazed steadily into them.

He had to turn sideways as he did so, as she leant against the end of the lounge, and her head was slightly turned to the back of the seat.

Her eyes sparkled mischievously behind her pince-nez, which seemed to make them brighter, and at first he noticed them only. Then his eyes were caught by the reflection on her glasses. They showed as if in a mirror that part of the room behind him, and he could have sworn something moved.

Her eyes fell before his intense regard, and she coloured up, but he was now concerned with the reflected room.

He could see the back of the lounge behind him, and as he looked two wild faces gradually appeared above it. He made a slight movement as if to turn, and they at once dropped out of sight.

"Your eyes. Madame, betray you," he said,

"And how do they betray me?" she asked, with a smile.

"Well, because no one could look at them and not see the flirt― and yet," he continued, "I believe that you also could be serious too― for a minute, perhaps."

For the space of perhaps half that time she did look serious; her face paled and there came an older look into it, but she shook her head and shrugged her shoulders with a merry little laugh.

At the curtained doorway Russell Howard saw two officers in uniform stroll towards their room. They were talking unconcernedly as they came, and paused just outside, engrossed in their argument.

He turned to his companion. She was smiling now and smoothing her silken  skirts with dainty little pats.

"It is time we went back," she said, and rose, giving her dress a slight shake as she did so.

Before she stood straight upon her feet, Russell Howard bent forward and flipped the lounge on which they had been sitting with both hands beside his knees, and rising suddenly, with all his strength heaved it over backwards and dashed to the door.

He turned when well outside, and standing alongside the two officers who had placed themselves there, looked back. Two dark, struggling forms, gripping knives that flashed in the light, rose up from beneath the overturned lounge and, tumbling ferns and palms, rushed away through another door, before a move could be made to stop them.

With muttered curses the two officers, at last gathering their wits, made after them, while Russell Howard went to help Madame, who showed signs of fainting. However, other ladies soon appeared on the scene, and they, took her away with them.

The excitement was intense when it was known that two anarchists had endeavoured to kill the newly-arrived Englishman and he was overwhelmed with congratulations on his narrow escape, although no one was able to explain why he should have been singled out; as, being a stranger, he could not have been of any great concern to them. The most general idea was that he had been mistaken for someone else.

He accepted all their congratulations, and said he considered he was lucky to have caught sight of the men in hiding and had managed to escape.

He was full of apologies which he desired to be made to Madame Nemidoff for having left her in danger, and was desolate to think that in the excitement he had thought of himself first and had deserted her for ever so short a time.

To General Stuyler, the Assistant Chief of Police, he made light of the affair, brushing aside his regrets that such a thing should happen while practically under his care, and laughingly assuring him that it would be an experience out of which he could make splendid copy.

On leaving, General Stuyler furnished him with an escort to his hotel, and asked that he would call the next day, when they fully expected to have word of his would-be assailants.

Russell Howard called the next afternoon, and was received by General Stuyler with many additional apologies. Two men had been caught, and they had every reason to believe they were the two concerned in last night's affair. Mr. Howard might rest assured that they would be examined, and certainly receive the severest punishment, et cetera.

Howard listened to it all with a quiet smile until the General had finished. Then he said, "I have thought it over since last night, General. Then I was too excited to notice things that have seemed strange to me this morning.

"In the first place, Madame Nemidoff, who is a friend of yours, took me to that lounge in the conservatory where those men were already hidden―"

"But, my dear Mr. Howard, you surely do not fancy for one moment that she could have known of their existence.'"

"On the contrary, General, I am certain that she knew, for as she sat she was facing them, while they were at my back, and I was warned by seeing their reflection in her glasses."

The General gave a slight start; it was ever so slight , but Russell Howard, who was watching for it, saw it. If he had been altogether innocent his surprise would have been greater. As it was, he said: "You must have been mistaken, Mr. Howard. I am sure Madame Nemidoff can be trusted, and that she was as surprised as you were when she found they were there. The shock was great to her, and she is ill in bed to-day; besides, Mr. Howard, what could have been our motive in this attack if you insist upon blaming us? You are representing an English paper and we have made a point of presenting our position to you in its true light and withholding nothing. Why, if we had any reason for getting rid of you, as you suggest, to prevent you sending information to your paper which we do not wish published, I can assure you it would have been within our power to attain this result without taking such extreme measures."

Howard allowed himself to be slowly persuaded that the General could have no possible reason for wishing for his removal, and at last handed to him the manuscript of his first letter to the Evening Mail.

"It is possible, General," he said, "that I may have included something in this which you do not wish disclosed at present, so I have brought it to you for revision. You will understand, no doubt, that I am anxious to get any news to my paper early, but at the same time there may be something here which it would be unwise for you to allow to be published at the present time. Now, you have been frank with me! I will return the compliment by bringing you all I write to my paper, and I will promise you that it will be all the correspondence I shall send away. I think you owe me something for the shock I got last night at the hands of your fellow-countrymen, so, if you are wishful to do anything for me, you cannot oblige me more than by sending my letters through promptly."

General Stuyler promised to help him in this way where possible, and Russell Howard had the satisfaction next day of being assured that his articles had been forwarded practically as he had written them.

The worthy General would have received a rude shock had he known that a cunningly devised cipher based on the commencing letters of the words in several sentences in a pre-arranged position was included in each letter so promptly forwarded through his agency.

He had grave suspicious of Howard, and subjected his correspondence to every known test for hidden messages, but without result, and on the whole he was inclined to think that these letters were brought to him more as a blind while he was endeavouring by some other means to forward other information.

His suspicions ran more on the lines that Howard had been employed as a spy by the Japanese, and the thought that he was in the employ of the Bernstein Brothers never entered his head.

On the idea that dead men tell no tales he had endeavoured to rid himself of a suspicious character, but had failed, and Russell Howard had so managed that his failure should benefit himself.

During the rest of Howard's stay in Russia he was never out of sight of General Stuyler's spies, but Bernstein's agents adopted better and more discreet means of supplying him with information, and General Stuyler continued unwittingly to act as an intermediary in conveying it to the Bernsteins, by way of the sub-editor of the Evening Mail.

_________________

8: The Modern Highwayman

ROBERT ASHBURNHAM looked worried and disgusted as he flung himself into a chair in front of Russell Howard. That gentleman glanced up sharply, and, noticing the expression on his visitor's face, went on opening his letters; waiting for the explanation that was sure to come.

'Seen what that fool Stanton Prescott's been doing?' said his visitor.

'No! What's that?' asked Howard.

'Haven't you seen the papers yet?' asked Ashburnham.

'No, I haven't looked through them,' Howard replied. 'Is it something bad enough to get into the papers, Bob?'

'Yes,' said the other with a gesture of disgust and weariness, 'what must the young fool do but go and get drunk and hold up Old Featherstone, of all men, on his way home from the club last night.'

'No— not really!' exclaimed Howard. 'How did it all come about?'

'Well, as far as I can find out,' said Ashburnham, 'he was at the club last night playing bridge with Tommy Bartlett, Moreton, and Old Featherstone, who chipped in to make the fourth. Old Featherstone has a terrible down, on young Prescott, you know, over that D'Estelle affair— thinks he put him away— but he's always friendly on the surface and lays himself out to win his money. Prescott drank a good deal more than he ought to while he was playing, and, of course, lost; and the more he lost the more he drank— naturally. Tommy Bartlett wanted to pull out after a while— he was Stanton's partner— but Stanton would not let him, and they kept on till Stanton was cleared out, and then he drank some more. When Featherstone was going home he said something about getting even with him soon. Featherstone was in high good humour, as well he might be, and laughed him off; but the silly young fool was in a nasty mood, and kept at him till the other two pulled him away and sent him off in a cab.

"About an hour afterwards Featherstone went to a police station and reported having been held up by a man with a revolver and made to hand over all his money and valuables. He described the man's appearance, and it tallied with Prescott's exactly. He was wearing evening clothes, with a light overcoat over. His face was half hidden by a white handkerchief tucked in his hat and with a couple of holes out for his eyes. Featherstone swore that it was young Prescott; said he was sure he couldn't mistake him, and the police promised to hunt him up.

"Molly— his sister, you know— heard him come in, and he made so much noise that she went to his room to see what was the matter. He wouldn't take any notice of her though, and kept on laughing all the time. She saw the state he was in, and scolded him like anything, I believe, but he was too far gone to take any notice. It's awfully rough on her, you know, for him to have behaved, as he did. Presently he threw himself on the bed and went off to sleep dressed as he was.

"She was disgusted with him, and turned to go out, when the revolver slipped from his coat pocket to the floor. This gave her rather a turn, for she could not think why he should carry one. She picked it up and examined it, and found it was fully loaded. Then she felt in his pockets and pulled out a purse with a lot of money in it; a gold watch and chain with a monogram G. F. engraved on the watch, and which she knew did not belong to Stanton; a gold signet ring and a letter case; and also rolled up in a ball, a handkerchief with a couple of holes torn in it. She does not know at the time what this all meant, but took them away with her, meaning to have it out with him in the morning.

A couple of hours later, while she still lay wide awake, the police came looking for him. of course they roused the whole family, and they were terribly cut up when they went off with Stanton. The shock sobered him up a little, but he seemed dazed and quite unable to say where he had been, or what he had been doing. As soon as Molly heard them charge her brother with robbing Featherstone, she knew what the handkerchief and revolver meant, and was glad she had taken them away with the money and jewellery.

"She didn't tell her people anything about that part of it, but rang me up early this morning and told me to come down. Didn't I swear to myself at the young fool when I heard, but of course Molly wanted me to try and help him for her mother's sake. So, as she is the best and bravest little girl in the world, I went off to try what I could do.

"First of all, I found, the cabman who drove him from the club. He said that his fare stopped him when he had gone a little distance, and he got down from his seat to see what was the matter. Stanton had his handkerchief over his knees, and was cutting holes in it with his knife, and said something about not being able to cut straight when he was going to drive on, but Stanton stumbled out of the cab and insisted on walking on, and paid him; gave him half a sovereign, and said it was all he had in the world.

"The cabman said he wasn't too drunk to walk, but had certainly had enough. The police hadn't got hold of the cabby yet, so I squared him to say nothing about the handkerchief part. I don't think he'll say anything about that, though of course he'll have to tell them about his getting out and walking. It was just near where Featherstone was stuck up, so he must have been sane enough to think it all out.

"Then I went to the police station and tried to bail him out. His father is ill and confined to the house at present, so he couldn't go. The magistrate I found, however, wouldn't grant bail, seeing that the charge was one of highway robbery. I saw Stanton, though, and he looked pretty sorry for himself, I can tell you. It wasn't my place to row him, so I only said he was worrying his people nicely, and asked him what he had been doing. He was sitting with his head on his hands, and looked thoroughly miserable. He's generally pretty unquenchable, you know, but his face was so drawn and haggard that I felt sorry for him though I tried 'not to show it. He's really not bad at heart, only careless, and he's let himself go and wouldn't let anyone give him a word of advice.

"I'm hanged if I know what I've done,' he said. 'I can't think.'

'But don't you remember what you did after you left the club?' I asked.

'No, I can't,' he said, miserably. 'I remember playing there and losing, and I know I drank more than was good for me, but, after that, I have no recollection— only a vague sensation of seeing Featherstone's face somewhere; so I suppose it's quite true I did stick him up. Only if I did, I don't know what became of the money he savs I took. I haven't got it.'

'But the revolver?' I asked. 'What did you carry for that '

He kept his face buried in his hands for awhile and would 'not answer, but I kept at him. 'Well, I suppose I'm in such a horrible mess now that it won't matter to tell you,' he said, 'but the truth is, I've lost so much money betting and gambling lately that I've felt pretty bad at times, and somehow I bought that revolver and loaded it in case— in case I felt bad enough to use it on myself. I can tell you when I thought what an ass I had been, I felt that way more than once, and although the fellows at the club thought I was pretty jolly last night, they wouldn't have liked to feel as I felt.'

Then I opened out on him. I can tell you I felt pretty strongly, and gave it to him right and left. I told him he had the best mother and sister and father a man could have, and he had been coward enough to think of shooting himself to get out of trouble and leave no end of trouble to them. I stormed at him like anything, and he took it all without protest.

'I know! I know!' he said. 'Since I have been here I've thought it all over, and know what a perfect fool and coward I've been. I suppose I'm done for now, but I've made up my mind to take what comes along as a man should take it, and afterwards I'll go right away and start again, and perhaps they'll forgives me at home after a while.'

"He seemed thoroughly broken up, and really only for the fix he's in now— and I don't see how he can get out of it with the evidence they'll get— I believe it's the best thing that could have happened to him, for it will straighten him up all right now.'

Russell Howard thought for a moment, and then said:— 'Where was Featherstone held up?'

'In Queen-street, Lewisham,' replied Ashburnham.

'And what are you going to do now?' asked Howard.

'Well, I don't know what we can do,' he said, 'except get a good lawyer to fight for him, but I'm afraid he has a bad case; for although he might plead that he was drunk, still, holding a man up with a loaded revolver is too serious an offence to pass off lightly.'

'Well, I'd like to make a bet with you,' said Howard, 'that the same thing could happen three times running and it would not be discovered who had done it.'

'Why, what do you mean?' asked Ashburnham.

'Just what I say, Bob. Will you take my bet?'

'Yes, I'll take it,' he answered, 'as you seem to want me to, only I don't see what you are driving at.'

'That's all right,' said Howard. 'You don't want to know any more; only send me down the things Miss Prescott's got as soon as you can, will you, and tell young Prescott not to try to think too much what he did last night, but to make out it was impossible for him to have held up Featherstone.'

Russell Howard's visitor left in better spirits than he had come, though he was still in the dark as to what his friend was going to do.

After Ashburnham left, Howard sat for some time thinking. Then he went to his desk and took out his address book. Although his methods of work were often extremely unconventional, he was blessed with many methodical habits, and one of them was to keep the addresses of all his friends and acquaintances in order. It seemed difficult to him to find what he required, for he would turn from one to another, studying one for some time with pursed-up lips before looking at another. At last he selected two.

'I think they ought to do,' he said to himself. 'Mortimore lives in Lewisham, near enough anyhow to Queen-street, and Holme lives the other side, and it won't be very much out of his way either.'

He had a couple of conversations over the telephone, and then went out and drove to Mortimore's office in the city.

MORTIMORE was an elderly man, with hair turning gray, but sprightly and business-like. He was evidently a great friend of Howard's, judging by his handshake.

'Why, Russell, I haven't seen you for ages,' he said. 'What is it you've got on your mind how. You don't bother your clients much after you finish working for them, I must say.'

'Oh, you would get tired of me too soon if I did,' Howard replied, 'and I'd be afraid to ask any favour of you; but, as it is, you see I don't mind coming to you when I want something done.'

'Oh, that's it, is it?' said . Mortimore. 'Well, what is it? You know I've a deal to do for you before I can square our accounts. That affair with Blackenrig left me a long way in your debt.'

'Nonsense!' Howard replied. 'That was only in the way of business, and I've often been glad it happened, because it brought me another friend. This is rather a rummy thing I'm going to ask you. Not that it's anything so very hard, but it's a bit out of the way, I think, and if I didn't know you so well I'd feel a bit awkward about asking.'

'Thanks, old chap,' said Mortimore, 'If you say its rummy, I'll believe you; for I know what rummy ways you have sometimes. So, what is it?'

'It's this,' said Howard. 'You live in Lewisham, don't you? Well— do you think you could manage to be walking down Queen-street at 12.30 to-night on your way home? That's all I want.'

Mortimore looked amazed. 'Well, I'm blest,' he said. 'Here was I fully expecting you were going to ask me to help rob the Bank of England, and you only ask me to walk home at 12.30 to-night. Why, where shall I put in the time, and what will my wife say?'

'I've, thought of all that,' said Howard, 'and I arranged with the Masons to ring up and ask you to dinner. You ran ring up the wife and explain. Tell her I want you to and she'll let you off.'

Mortimore gave him an admiring look. 'By Jove,' he said, 'you're not too bad. You seem to take it for granted you are going to get everything your own way. Oh, well, all right. An you seem to have fixed it all up for me, I suppose I must consider myself in your hands; but is that all I have to do? Walk down the street at 12.30? I think I'd better write that down or I might forget. It's so hard.'

'Well, if you meet with any little adventure on the way home, you mustn't mind,' said Howard, 'and by the way, you might have a decent amount of cash about you if on don't mind― and look! As soon as it is over, it doesn't matter how much a row you kick up, and if it gets into the papers with a full and complete description— so much the better.'

He finished with a laugh at the look of perplexity on Mortimore's face.

'I'm not to mind anything happening, and I can make as much row as I like as soon as it's over!' he said. 'That sounds like having a tooth out, doesn't it? And it can get into the papers, can it? And with a full description. I almost think I'd better write it out now. I seem to know so much about it. Is that all?'

'Yes, that's all you will want to know. Someone else will do the rest. Only don't alarm the wife,' he said with a grin.

'It looks as if I'm in for a pleasant evening,' said Mortimore, 'but I suppose  you know what you're driving at, though, Lord knows, I don't. But you can rest assured old man, I'll do my part— and I suppose I'll know a bit more about it some day, won't I?'

'If you're good,' 'said Russell Howard, as he thanked him.

GEOFFREY HOLME was a lawyer who had known Howard's father. He appeared stiff and unbending to most people, but there was always a twinkle in his eye and a kindly smile for Russell. He was just the man that Howard wanted for his purpose, being well known and above reproach.

'Well,' Russell, he said, when his needs had been explained; to him, 'I don't think I'd consent to this for anyone else, but I've watched you and your ways for some time, and I've always seen you take the right side. Your methods are not just exactly what the ordinary man's would be, but I'm glad to see you have always kept away from anything of a shady nature. I know you wouldn't have asked me to do this if you had not some weighty reason for asking, and I am glad you knew that you could depend upon me, and came to me for help, and you can rest assured that I shall do all that I can to carry out your wishes. and without asking question for I can see that it is best for all concerned not to know too much. Besides,' he said, and the twinkle in his eye deepened. 'It makes me feel quite a boy again to have such an adventure to look forward to, to-morrow night.'

When Russell Howard returned home there was a parcel waiting for him, and he untied it and rolled out on to the table a revolver, a watch and chain, a leather purse that was bulky and heavy, and a crushed up handkerchief. He unrolled the handkerchief and looked at it. It was a man's fine linen one with a monogram in one corner, and two holes cut roughly in the centre.

'The fool,' he thought. 'If they had found this, the S.P. in the corner would have settled him. Some fellows have good sisters.'

THAT NIGHT, about half-past twelve, Mr. Mortimore was walking, as he had promised, through Queen-street on his way home. He had thoroughly enjoyed his evening with the Masons, and was now wondering what was to befall him. He had nearly reached his turning and was thinking, perhaps he had been too early, when someone stepped suddenly from the shadow of a house, and holding a revolver to his head, told him in a stern voice to hand over his money and his watch.

His assailant had on a dress suit, with a light overcoat buttoned, but his face was completely hidden by a white handkerchief in which there were two holes cut, through which he could see the gleam of a pair of eyes. Although he had been expecting the unexpected, the suddenness of the attack took him aback, and he was quite prepared to resist. Then his features relaxed as he remembered, and he said, 'Oh, all right. Don't mind me, you know. Here you are.'

The man with the revolver said nothing more, but held it unwaveringly at his head while he handed over all his loose cash and took out his watch and chain. Indeed, so solemn and stern did he look that Mortimore's heart just beat a little faster as he wondered whether this might not be, after all, a part of the game.

'Now walk on for fifty yards,' said the other roughly, 'and don't look round or you'll get a bullet in you.'

He walked on as he was told for fifty yards, and heard light footsteps running away behind him; then, determined to carry out to the full his part of the contract, he woke the echoes of the quiet street with his cries of 'Police!'

Presently one or two windows opened, and heads were poked out to see what was the matter. A straggler appeared from, one of the by-streets, and after a while a policeman came on the scene.

Mr. Mortimore explained volubly and excitedly how he had been robbed! The policeman listened with a serious air, and when he had finished and answered one or two questions, with a look of stern determination he blew his whistle for assistance. Two more constables joined him, and together they consulted. None of them had seen any suspicious  personage about, but they agreed that this, coming so closely upon last night's affair, and happening in such close proximity, was a most serious matter. They assured Mr. Mortimore that his assailant would be closely followed up, and that he could not possibly escape, and one of them escorted him to his home while the other two hunted up the sergeant and made preparations for capturing the robber.

Next day's papers contained a full account of the affair under bold headings. "The Lewisham Sensation" was a prominent feature, and a full description of the two robberies, with interviews and comments, was given. The papers were inclined to think the police were on the wrong track with regard to their first arrest. What at first appeared to be a crime of simple solution, now promised to present a more complex problem, inasmuch as the features of one night's happening had been repeated on the following might, while the man supposed to be responsible, for the first was under lock and key.

The evening papers added to the sensation when they announced that the property stolen from Mr. Featherstone had been returned to him, together with an impudently worded communication to the effect that it had been taken from him as the result of a wager only, and thanking him for having been such an easy subject on which to practice.

WHEN the next night Mr. Geoffrey Holme found himself walking down Queens-street at a late hour, he had a very fair idea of what would happen, and when, at a quiet corner, a man in evening dress, his face covered with a white handkerchief, stepped out, he was not unduly excited.

"I don't mind telling you I am armed," he said, in response to an invitation to hand over his valuables.

"'Then, hold up your hands," said his assailant.

Holme's hands were raised obediently above his head, and the stranger went through his pockets. His watch and chain and money were taken and also the revolver, which he threw as far as he could down the street. Then with a polite good-night, and a warning not to move for half a minute, he decamped. Holme counted thirty seconds, and then rushed for his revolver; which he no sooner possessed himself of than he started firing at haphazard down the street.

As the stranger turned a corner and disappeared, three constables came rushing on the scene. A small but interested crowd gathered; for when it was seen that there was no immediate danger, the people in the houses near hastily dressed and came out to hear of the latest excitement.

Holme breathlessly described how he had been held up before he had time to draw his revolver, and how all his valuables had been taken from him and his revolver thrown away, and also how he immediately rushed to secure it when the thief decamped, and had fired at him several times, though he was afraid, without effect. He pointed out the corner round which he had disappeared, though unfortunately in his excitement it happened to be in exactly the opposite direction to that really taken, and when the police returned half an hour later, from a fruitless chase, they still found him the centre of an interested and sympathetic circle.

The morning papers again had a full account of this third outrage, together with the particulars of the return of the stolen property to the first victim, and said that as the three robberies were so obviously the work of one man it was evident a mistake had been made in regard to the first arrest, and it was likely that Prescott would be at once released. As everything stolen from Mr. Featherstone had been returned intact, the victims of the two later robberies would doubtless await events with curiosity, to see if the same steps would be pursued with regard to themselves. Even if the property were returned, they had still had the unpleasant sensation of being held up by an armed man in a place where such lawlessness was supposed to be nonexistent, and the papers stated that the residents of Lewisham were indignant that such a thing should have happened to three such well known and respected gentlemen as Mr. Featherstone, Mr. Mortimore, and Mr. Holme.

As on the previous day in the case of Mr. Featherstone., the evening papers supplied the information that Mr. Mortimore's property had been returned to him with a similar communication. Mr. Prescott had been released, and the ! police were investigating further clues, and hoped shortly to be in a position to make an arrest.

Next day, it fell to the lot of the evening papers to announce that Mr. Holme had received his property back, and the usual communication with it had been amplified to the effect that a discussion had arisen, following the reading of some stories respecting a gentleman burglar, that a highwayman at the present time would not be able to ply his calling for any length of time, and a wager had been made that three different people could be held up and robbed in the same locality, on three consecutive nights without being caught. The writer apologised for the trouble given, but thanked his victims thus for enabling him to win his wager.

Most of the papers contained leaders deploring the tendency of present day literature to idealise crime, and also pointing out the fallaciousness of jumping at conclusions as witness the arrest of Mr. Prescott for a crime with which fortunately it was proved by after events, he could have had no connection, but with which, at the time, circumstantial evidence closely connected him.

WHEN NEXT Robert Ashburnham saw Russell Howard he tossed him a five pound note.

'What's this?' asked Howard.

'That's the wager you won,' he said.

'I don't want it,' said Howard. 'It was only an excuse to say I had a wager on a certain matter. By-the-bye, what's become of that young Prescott you were telling me about. I saw where he had been released.'

'His friends sent him off to Australia,' said Ashburnham. 'He is going in for farming, and I think he will do well. I think it would be hard to find a steadier man now.'

Ashburnham hung about the room for a while looking as if he had something on his mind, and presently Russell Howard looked up with a smile.

'Well, what is it?' he said.

Ashburnham plunged headlong at it.

'The fact is. old man,' he said, 'I want you to do something more for me yet. I want you to be the best man for me next month— and look here I'm a bad hand at saying thank you, y' know— but if ever there's anything we can do for you—'

Russell Howard got up and stopped him. He stood in front of his friend and they shook hands.

'That's all right, old chap,' he said, 'I know.'

_________________

9: The Prince's Letter

RUSSELL HOWARD sat leisurely opening his morning's post, which had of late grown to considerable proportions.

'Dear Mr. Howard,' he read, 'You are so original! could you suggest a new idea for an evening's entertainment?'

'H'm, not in my line,' he mused, as he placed it with the other and picked up another.

'Dear Sir,'— He looked sat the signature at the end; it was Edward. E. Crouche, Rector,  St. Jude's, Illingworth.  'Could you assist us in reducing the debt on our church?'

He placed it with the other and picked up another. A heavy envelope with a crest on the back and a foreign motto that he could not translate.

Dear Sir,

His Highness, Prince Henry of Silesia, is desirous, of seeing you on a matter of private importance, and would regard it as a favour if you would make it convenient to call on him at his rooms at the Hotel Carlton?

'This,' thought Howard, 'is more in

Nearly everyone will remember the marriage of Prince Henry of Silesia to the beautiful Countess von Heckler, as it created a considerable amount of interest at the time, being purely a love match and in direct opposition to the wishes of the King, who for reasons ofstate desired a marriage with a Princess of a neighboring country. Howard called on Prince Henry that afternoon, after arranging an interview with his private secretary, who had accompanied him to England. He found the Prince sitting at a table writing. Many letters lay around, and in front of him was a sealed envelope without address.

His forehead was furrowed with, thought as his visitor entered, and his expression was grave, but a pleasant smile lit up his face as he welcomed him and motioned him to a chair. Howard, used as he was to reading faces, placed him as a strong, quiet man, one that knew him own mind, and, when he thought he was right would steadily work to have his way.

'The newspapers, Mr. Howard,' he said, 'will have already made you acquainted with my reasons for being in England instead of in my own country at the present time.

Howard bowed his assent.

'So far as they have informed you, you will know that I have had a disagreement with my father on the subject of my marriage. I have made my choice of a wife. She is the Countess von Heckler. I consider, Mr. Howard, that I have arrived at years of discretion. I am no longer to be called exactly a young man, although I have had opportunities of seeing many good and beautiful women— and I will admit to you that there have been occasions when I was younger, when I have thought myself to be in love with one or another— still I have regarded none as I now regard the Countess. She is, I am certain, worthy to be the wife of the best man living and I do not claim that distinction. If I were a private individual I am sure that my father would not have the slightest objection to her, but would gladly welcome her as a daughter. In fact, I am sure now in my own mind that he can see her worth, and that it is this very fact that makes him so bitter, as it makes the plans that he had formed, and which are so dear to him, the harden to carry out. My father, as perhaps you know, wishes me to marry the Princess Anne of Hungary, a lady for whom I have the utmost respect, and it gives me the greatest sorrow, I can assure you, to think that she may perhaps be hurt by the talk which this affair has caused. If there were no Countess von Heckler I think I could have accepted these arrangements without demur, but as it is, life is a very different matter to me, and having known the difference, I could not go back now to the old order of things. I consider, Mr. Howard, that no diplomatic benefits can compensate for a loveless royal marriage. The end, for the time being, may be served, but who knows later what differences may arise?

"Of course, I freely admit that I am an interested party— but to put it plainly I cannot and will not marry the Princess, while I will at all costs marry my Countess so long as she is willing to sacrifice what I may also have to sacrifice, and that is, a home in my own country.

"You will pardon me for inflicting my private affairs upon you at such length, but it is necessary that you should know of them to understand fully what it is I would wish you to do for me.  It is this. I have written a letter'— he touched the sealed envelope with his hand—  'to the Countess von Heckler. It contains matter of the greatest private importance relating to affairs which I wish arranged for me at home, and— I trust you implicitly, Mr. Howard — details of arrangement which I have made so that she I can come to friends here, when we will be at once married. At a court like my father's, where a man's chance of preferment depends upon pleasing the one in authority, you tan readily understand that there is no one there whom I could ask to attend to my affairs at the present time. Some of them I could not depend upon to serve me at the ' risk of displeasing my father, and those whom I am assured would do so, it would not be fair to ask, as it would probably mean their downfall, and I should not be in a position to help them.

'The Countess von Heckler, I am certain will, however, be able to get the matters arranged as I wish, and I now ask you, if, knowing the full circumstances, you will undertake to personally deliver this letter to her. I will not disguise from you that I expect there will be many difficulties in your way. Silesia is not an uncivilised country, and I do not anticipate danger to you; still, where the authority is vested in one head and the whole of the military and police forces are at the direct command of the King, it is likely that you will meet with trouble if they get an inkling of your real errand.'

'Did you have no alternative but to leave your country?' asked Russell Howard.

'None whatever!' replied the Prince. 'I was to have been sent off to a military command in the north, to a place where communication would be difficult and infrequent, while the Countess was to have been kept at the Court, where she could be watched, and, at the same time, it was the intention of the King to proceed with negotiations for my marriage with the Princess Ann, thinking that if everything were arranged I should not care to cause a scandal by declining at the last moment. I came to hear of his intentions and to save trouble got out of the country at once, but unfortunately had no chance of communicating with the Countess before leaving.

'The business appealed to Howard. It was just the sort of adventure he appreciated. To pit his wits against a King and all his servants and to serve two people who had no present power to help him was an undertaking to be considered worthy of his energies. He asked for a photograph of the Countess, and was shown the portrait of a lady whose looks, like those of the Prince, at once appealed to him. By her photograph she was beautiful, but it was a face, he felt, that showed its true beauty in its expression and no mere portrait could do it justice.

When he left the Prince late in the afternoon, he carried with him the Prince's letter, which still remained without address.

MAUZIG is the capital of Silesia, and here Howard arrived after a week's travelling. He made careful inquiries as to the whereabouts of the Countess, and found that she had retired to Rapsburg, a town close to her estates. Here it was rumored she was quietly living by the order of the King, and it was also stated that she was closely watched and no one allowed to approach her without the knowledge of either Colonel Tausner or Major Brandt, who were also staying in the same town! Howard foresaw that this part of his journey would prove tho most difficult. That the authorities already suspected him had been made clear, for his luggage had been twice carefully searched. very little had been disturbed, and a less observant man might not have noticed, but he was blessed with a keen sense of order, and the fact that one or two things had been misplaced did not escape his keen eyes.

In the hotels and at restaurants, and also for the last part of the journey in the train, he had noticed that there were always military-looking men in plain dress close to him, and although they never appeared to observe him, they were never for a moment beyond a certain distance from him.

The letter he carried hooked to the inside of his sleeve so that he could, by drawing his hand a little way up, unhook it and stow it away somewhere else should the occasion for so doing occur. He recognised that should he be waylaid and searched, he would not have much chance to secrete it about his person, so he had by means of a little hook secured it in this way where it was always within his reach.

His ostensible business in Silesia was a commission to buy horses for an English firm. Silesia was noted for its horses, and he held interviews with a number of breeders in Mauzig, but, at last, he had an offer from a man who lived near Rapsburg, and he announced his intention of proceeding there.  The excuse, he knew, was a flimsy one, but he relied upon it for being allowed to reach Rapsburg at all, for it was more than likely that without it he would have been stopped on one excuse or another.

Where it was thought possible that he really might have business with the horse breeder of Rapsburg, or whether the secret police were willing to get him to a quieter place where he could be more easily watched, he was allowed to reach there without molestation, but he realised with a quiet smile that the faces of some of his silent friends were becoming familiar to him. This did not stop him, however, from taking a room in the best hotel that Rapsburg boasted, and informing the landlord that it was his intention to make a big deal in horses.

He was seated at a table in his room making some entries in his note b'ook, when the door opened suddenly and in marched four men in uniform. They were all, big men, and were red-faced with the efforts they had made to tip-toe silently along the corridor and to creep in upon his unawares.

Howard was at a disadvantage. He had hardly expected such a quick development, and had no chance of secreting the letter even if he could find any place more safe than his sleeve. The last man in carried an oblong cardboard box, which he placed carefully on an unoccupied chair, and then stood stiffly on one side with one of the others. The other two wore a look of extreme gravity and importance as they advanced, one on either side of Howard. He rose with indications of extreme surprise.

'To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit, gentlemen?' he said.

'I am Colonel Tausner,' replied the elder of the two officers, 'and this is Major Brendt. We wish you to understand that we are acting with full official authority. We are informed that you are carrying a letter to a certain person in this realm. This letter is believed to be against the interests of the Kingdom,. and it is considered best that it should not be delivered. We have now come to ask you to give it up to us. Major Brendt will also tell you that this is correct.'

Major Brendt spoke up with military percision.

'That is correct,' he said, 'and it will also save much trouble.'

'Gentlemen,' said Howard, 'I am sorry to appear at all antagonistic to you, but I understood that this was a free country, and that everyone was at liberty to go and to do as he pleases so long as he does not offend against the laws of the country. My business is my own matter, and, even did I carry a letter for delivery to any person here, I should certainly refuse to hand it over to you. At present my business is the purchase of horses for a London firm, and should you be able to recommend any to me I shall be glad of your advice.'

Colonel Tausner gave a short, barking laugh. 'We are better informed than that, Mr. Howard. We know that you are also in possession of a letter for the Countess von Heckler, and to save yourself much trouble and inconvenience, we ask you to hand' it over.'

'I can only deny your authority to interfere in riiy private affairs, Colonel, and reply as before that had I any such letter I should most certainly refuse to give it up,' replied Russell Howard.

'Then we shall proceed with the search,' said the Colonel.

'I most certainly object to any such proceeding,' said Howard, as he rose from his chair.

At the motion of the Colonen's hand, the two men who had been standing near the door advanced several steps nearer. At the same time the Colonel, with an air of settling the matter once for all, drew forth from an inner pocket an imposing-looking double sheet of parchment to which was affixed a serious-looking red seal.

'This is my warrant, Mr. Howard, signed by the King himself.'

Russell Howard took it from him none too politely. It was written in French, and set forth, as the Colonel said, that force was to be used if necessary in obtaining a letter 'dangerous to the best interests of this realm,' and that a search was to be made of his person and personal effects in the event of his refusing to surrender it without trouble. It appeared to be all in order, but Howard turned it angrily over, looking first on one side and then on another, as trying to find something incomplete about it.'

Then he folded it impatiently and tossed it on the floor, from; which one of the soldiers picked it up and placed it carefully on the table.

'I cannot fight against that,' he said, 'so proceed with your search, but I warn you that you will find nothing, and I certainly protest strongly against J this injustice later on.'

The Colonel and the Major had watched him patiently while he was examining the parchment, but they did not know that in front of their very eyes he had slipped the letter from his sleeve in between the two leaves of the warrant and folded it up inside. The size of the parchment had concealed his movements, and the letter they were searching for lay at their side upon the table. He felt it was a risk to take, but he was sure from their stolid style that their search was sure to be thorough, and this was his only chance. The Colonel turned to one of his men.

'Stolberg!' ho said, 'the box!'

Stolberg advanced with the box. He untied the string around it. Inside was a complete change of clothing.

'You will have the goodness,' he said, addressing Howard, 'to change your clothing. You will hand us each article as you take it off, so that we may be sure you secrete nothing.'

'I object!' shouted Howard, indignantly. 'I protest against this insulting treatment.'

'It will be better for you if you do this quietly,' said Major Brandt. 'Otherwise it will be necessary for these men to act as your valets, and I assure you it will be much more comfortable for you to submit.'

Howard saw that it would be no use, fighting against them, so he submitted, though with a bad grace.

He took off one article after another, and flung them at the Colonel's feet. Even his boats and socks he had to remove. The clothes provided for him were ready-made and ill-fitting, and the boots were exceedingly clumsy, so that, as he was always extremely particular regarding his clothes, he had no difficulty whatever in appearing, as he wished to appear, in a towering rage.

His boots he flung on to the Colonel's feet, hoping that they might find his corns, and his wishes were realised when that worthy gentleman stifled an. exclamation and went red in the face. If Howard wished to get them all angry he was succeeding well, and that was what he was aiming at, for an angry  man's wits are not so clear as are those of one who remains calm.

At last he had completely changed his attire, and was standing first on one, foot and then on another, trying to get some spring into the soles of his clumsy, ill-fitting boots. They had guessed at his build and to make sure had got everything a full size too large.

'And now, Major,' said the Colonel, take Stolberg with you and conduct this gentleman to the frontier, where you will give him sufficient money to enable -him to return to England.'

'Your money and private effects,' he continued, turning to Howard, 'will be forwarded after you when we have found what we are looking for.'

Then Russell Howard's wrath broke out in full. He swore at the colonel and the major and at the two' soldiers who stood at attention with stolid faces. He protested that they were ruining his business and threatened to ruin them in return. He stormed at them and their King, the Prince, and their Countess von: Heckler. He called them everything he could think of, and had them raging inwardly, although outwardly they remained as impassive as ever.

'Come, Major!' said the Colonel.

The Major stepped forward with his man. 'I protest!' shouted Howard. 'Here! your warrant says nothing of my deportation or of stealing my clothes and private effects.'

He reached out and picked it up and flourished it in their faces, making them give back a step in their surprise and giving him a chance to slip the letter out and back up his sleeve, while he waved the warrant excitedly up and down, distracting their attention and finishing by throwing it violently on the floor and trampling on the seal.

The Major and his man Stolberg at this caught him by the shoulders and propelled him, still resisting, out of the door and down the stairs to the street. They clapped a hat, which Stolberg had brought with him, upon his head and marched him along to the station.

Howard went as slowly as he was able, but quietly. He wanted to think now. He had saved the letter but that was only half his work. He still wanted to deliver it, much as the odds were against him. And then chance came his way and served him; for as they turned the corner near the station there came quietly driving in her carriage, a lady, the original of the photograph he had seen in tho Prince's room in London. He recognised her at once and if he had had any doubt it would have been settled by his captors, who tried to force him past almost at a run.

He had gone quietly so far, but now ha objected. He had played football for his college in his time, and had kept his muscles in good trim since. With a couple of sharp twists he shook himself free, and catching the major below the waist, bumped him heavily and with a great deal of satisfaction on the pavement. Stolberg made a wild clutch at him, and was bumped in a like manner on top of the major, leaving them struggling and floundering over each other on the footpath.

Howard ran to the carriage and slipped his hand under the rug for a moment, leaving the letter there. The Countess flashed a look of intelligence at him as he said: 'The King's men have been too much for me, Countess, but I shall try again. The Prince is―'

The major and his man had recovered their wits and their footing, and dragged him roughly away; the Major clapping his hand over his mouth as he still tried to shout a message.

They got him to the station in time, bumping him none too gently. Howard was so elated at first at having succeeded that he took no notice, but at last he protested.

'My dear Major!' he exclaimed. 'Has it ever occurred to you that, the present King may not reign for ever, but the Prince may some day succeed him? Now I am sure that the Prince would take no exception to anyone doing his duty to the King, but he would not like to be informed of one who exceeded it. The Prince when I see him again will no doubt ask me how I was treated, and he will be very angry if he finds that I was unduly troubled.'

Major Brandt evidently took this to heart, for his behaviour during the journey to the frontier was a great improvement. Howard, whose joy over his success triumphed over his feelings at having to wear slop-made clothes, enabled him also to relax, proved an agreeable companion, so that by the time the frontier was reached they were at peace with each other.

THE MARRIAGE of the Prince and the Countess von Heckler , in England is a matter of history, as is also their, reconciliation with the King when they returned some months later from an extended tour through the United States, and their photographs are prized possessions of Russell Howard, who considers the Prince and his charming Princess two of the most decent people it has been his fortune to meet.

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10: The Man Who Stole the Child

RUSELL HOWARD took an instinctive dislike to him even as he came into the room. A tall, well-built man, but rather on the heavy side, with a square, solid-looking face and a heavy black moustache. A fine-looking man many, especially ladies, would have called him, but to Howard's trained eye a man with a devilish temper.

"Mr. Howard, I presume," he said as he strode into the room. "I wrote you that I should call."

"Oh, then you are Major Devine," Russell Howard answered.  Major Devine bowed.

"I want you,"' he said, as he settled himself heavily in a chair, "to do a small matter of business for me that is in your line.

"I believe you arrange affairs that are— somewhat awkward for the principals themselves to arrange. Very well. You will kindly proceed tomorrow at 4 o'clock to St. Luke's Park. It is quite handy to here. You will see a little girl playing there with her nurse. I shall send some one with you to point her out. She is about seven years of age, and is my daughter. My wife and I have unfortunately— or fortunately, I might perhaps say"—he continued with a sneer— "had a disagreement. Over what I don't suppose concerns you or anyone else. She has, anyhow, not behaved properly to me, and as far as she is concerned she can go to— well, anywhere she likes. But the child I'm going to have, only to spite her.

"You, are, then, to manage to speak to the nurse, and somehow or other— I daresay you are used to arranging these details― you can get the child away and drive off in a cab that will be waiting. You will then bring her to me at an address to be arranged; that is all. You understand fully, I hope?"

Howard had two or three times looked as if he had been on the point of interrupting  him as the major went on with his commands, given in an overbearing tone. He let him go on, and waited, until he had finished.

"I think, perhaps, you have made a mistake," he said. "This is hardly the sort of case I take up, as you seem to think. It Is more in the line of a private detective, or, indeed, I should think, any one almost could do what you require. Why do you not go and claim the child openly yourself?"

Major  Devine looked surprised. "I should not have thought you would object to do business when it is brought to you," he said.  "You would be well paid, I consider, for the small amount of time that would be taken up, and you should think whether you can afford to turn away clients like this."

"The question of pay has nothing; to do with it," said Howard quietly. "I always please myself as to accepting or refusing any offer of employment, and. I always make a practice of refusing any that has the slightest tinge of scoundrelism."

"What do yon mean?" blustered the major. "Do you want to make out that I am a scoundrel?"

"I hardly know you sufficiently well to say," replied Howard. "But if everything is straight, why cannot you go openly and demand your own child?"

"Because that infernal woman is surrounded by her friends, who set her on to defy me," he said.

"And why do you come to me instead of getting her yourself or employing an ordinary detective?" questioned Howard again.

"Because the nurse knows me and would be on the lookout, and I should have no chance, and because the private detectives one gets carry their profession written all over them, and they would be suspected at once if they tried to strike up an acquaintance with the nurse.

"You were pointed out to me by a friend, and I thought you would be the very man for the job."

"Thanks," said Howard drily, "but I am afraid I cannot oblige you. It is not the sort of thing that appeals to me at all, and I do not care to take it up."

"Very well" said the major savagely as he took up his hat and gloves. "No doubt I will be able to find some one less particular, who will be willing to help me."

HE COULD scarcely have been out in the street when Howard's friend Grierson came in.

"Hullo, old chap!" he said. "I was just passing, and thought I'd look you up, as I haven't seen anything of you since that night at Chappell's. What problem are you butting your head up against now?"

Howard laughed cheerfully, "I'm loafing just now," he confessed. "I was working up one or two of those old Morocco sketches, but had to knock off for a while for a visitor."

"What! Was it Major Devine? I just passed him in the street looking very annoyed.  What's he been after? Nothing in your line. I'll swear."

"No; nothing in my line," replied Howard. "But what's the matter, with him?  You don't seem to appreciate him by the look of your face.''

"Appreciate him? I should think not. Look! I reckon that man's one of the biggest blackguards round town. Not that he's done anything any one can take up, you know; but if there's any villainy he's incapable of I'd like to know what it is.

"He married a nice little girl— Madge Huntingdon— you used to know her, didn't Jet her, eh?

"Well, now he's practically deserted her. She had some money her own, and that's what he wanted; know. She soon found it out, too, after he married her; but he got her away her friends, and got it all from her in no time. He was always knocking round with other women, even just a few weeks after they were married, but never by any chance with her. Of course, the money gave out in the end, and then he could go. He cleared out and left her without anything, and when her friends heard of it at last she was quite broken down, and very ill, and. they had hard work to pull her round again.

"There's one youngster― a girl about six or seven— and the mother's got to keep her. Of course, she can get nothing from the lovely major for her support."

"It was about the child he came," said Howard. "He wanted nothing less than that I should steal her for him."

"And, of course, you refused," said Grierson anxiously. "He would only do that out of spite. He wouldn't really want the youngster, but he's down on his wife because she wouldn't ask her friends for more money for him.

"I told him that sort of case didn't interest me."

"That's why he was looking so wrathful," said Grierson. "I nearly bumped into him as he came out. "Well, if there's going to be anything of that sort on, I'd like to take a hand and have a bit of a dig at him. Poor little Madge used to be rather a pal of mine when she was a girl, and I believe he pitches people all sorts of tales about her. Told you it was all her fault, eh? I thought so."

"Would you like to take a hand in it?" Howard asked. "I believe I will try a fall with him myself. I owe him one for thinking I was going to do his dirty work for him. Hold on where you are for a minute  while I get someone on the telephone."

He went to the telephone and rang up a private detective who sometimes did work for him, and asked him to put a man on to watch Major Devine and let him know his movements.

"How do you feel for a stroll?" he asked his friend, as he rang off. "Would you know this youngster if you saw her? All right, then, let's go out into St. Luke's park and see if she is about. I believe her nurse takes her there every afternoon."

They strolled along down the street and through the iron gates into the park, and headed for a shady avenue of oaks where a number of nurses were playing with their charges. It was near the main drive, where the major had proposed to. have the cab waiting. As they walked past, Grierson looking right and left for the youngster, a childish voice piped up from behind the trunk of a tree.

"Good-day, Mr. Grierson."

"Hullo, Molly," he said, wheeling round. "How are you, and how's Lady Evangeline to-day?"

Molly glanced down at her doll, and then looked up at Grierson. "It isn't Lady Evangeline," she said. "Its Lady Maud, and we're quite well, thank you.''

"This is Miss Molly Devine," Grierson said to Howard, "and this is Mr. Russell Howard, MoIly, a friend of mine."

Molly Devine gravely shook hands and hoped he was well.

They stayed talking tor a few minutes. Grierson appeared to be an old favourite, and Howard watched Molly, and seemed to be taking mental notes.

"I think I can get her," he said presently, when they had said goodby to Molly and strolled on

"Get her?" said Grierson. "Who?"

"Oh. I didn't tell you, did I? Well what I want to do is to get another youngster just about Molly's size, dress her up in Molly's clothes, and send  her out here with the nurse as usual. I know just the youngster that will do. if I can get her, and I think I can. I will want you if I do to take her to Molly's mother and fix things up. Molly had better be kept out of sight for the next day or two while the other youngster takes her place."

HOWARD'S acquaintances were numerous, and distributed over various parts of the city. Mrs. Flanagan was one of them, and she lived in the East-End. Russell Howard frequently came down this way. He was curious about the lives,  and always ready to find them work where he could, if he found them willing.

There were not a few that he had helped when things were looking pretty bad, and one of these was Dennis Flanagan. Dennis had just broken, his leg when he first happened on the family, and was in the hospital, while his people were trying to exist on what Mrs. Flanagan could earn, which, in this overcrowded district, with so much competition, was very little.

Russell Howard had stood by them and given them a helping-hand till Dennis came out of the hospital, and had then found him some constant employment. Mrs. Flanagan and the family were deeply grateful, and were only too anxious to help him when he called and propounded his scheme; Mrs. Flanagan's seven-year-old daughter had not suffered in looks, from her bringing up. Indeed, she had thriven on it. She was called Molly, the same as the other one whose place she was to take, and she had a pretty face and large blue Irish eyes. Cleaned up and dressed the same, she would be very like Molly Devine.

Mrs. Flanagan received her instructions as to what she was to do, but absolutely refused to accept any pay for the part she was to play.

'Wot! Get paid for settin' in the park, out in the sun all the day, is it? An' watchin' me own daughter, an' me man earnin' good money all the time, and all through you? Not Bridget Flanagan. Now, don't ye say another word, Mr. Howard, but just go along wid ye, an' it's proud I am altogether to be able to oblige ye!"

No persuasion could make her take any money. She seemed to regard it as a holiday outing, and was quite interested.  "It isn't as if Peggy here couldn't get her father's meals. It'll do 'er good to have to keep 'ouse for a while. Never you fear, sir!  I'll take Molly to the 'ouse all right, and see she gets fixed up."

She had quite taken charge of the arrangements and waved him on one side, and was forced to leave it at that.

FOR THE next two days Molly Flanagan was taken into the park by the nurse instead of Molly Devine, who had her outing in a different locality. So much alike were the two, however, that no one would notice the change unless on a very close inspection.

Russell Howard's detective had kept him well informed as to Major Devine's movements, and on the evening of the second day called round to see him. He was a tall, thin man, with a sad expression and a slow, deliberate way of talking, not at all like the ordinary idea of a detective; but the information he had gathered showed that there was nothing slow about his method of working.

"The gentleman you wish information about, sir," he said, "is leaving town from Charing Cross Station about six o'clock to-morrow evening. I have not been able to find out where he is going, as he has so far kept his further movements to himself.

"Yesterday he had an interview with a cabman by the name of Harrison, No. 346B. Harrison does not bear a very good name, although nothing has been proved against him. He was suspected of being concerned in the Maitland House robbery, and it is more than likely that he was the cabman who drove the thieves away. Anyhow, he is just the sort of man Major Devine would employ for any shady business. Harrison was with him at his rooms at the Stanley Hotel for half an hour, and when he came away drove to another hotel close by, where he had a couple of drinks. I had a man watching who endeavoured to get some information out of him, but he was too fly."

Howard thought for a moment.

"Get hold of the cabman again," he said, "and try to engage him for a job for about five o'clock to-morrow. If he can't come at five see how soon after you can get him. If not till after six say that is too late, and find out how much earlier he can come. You can fix him with I ail address, and give him a box to take somewhere and leave to be called for. The only matter that concerns me is the time."

Later on the detective rang up to say that he had arranged with the cabman for a-half-hour's job at half-past four. He could not get him later, as he was engaged from five probably till six.  This was all Russell Howard wanted to know, and he laid his plans accordingly.

A FEW MINUTES before five next day he and his friend sauntered down the Oak-avenue into St. Luke's Park, and sat down on a seat nearby. They recognised Molly playing on the grass with her nurse. Just outside the park gates a cab was waiting. Howard glanced at the number without seeming to move his eyes. It was 346B, and he knew then that Harrison was the driver. On the other side of the street another cab was standing, and the cabman was evidently there by appointment, as he had just refused a fare who had offered.

Presently a respectably dressed man came sauntering down the walk. He appeared to be a stranger to the park, for he was looking about him with great interest, as if he had never been in the park before. Presently he took out a pocket-book and from among several loose papers selected a card. He studied this for some time, looking hesitatingly about him as if at a loss in which direction to take.

He had stopped just near Molly and her nurse, and they saw him at last raise his hat and speak to the nurse. He showed her the card, and appeared to be asking directions. She came with him to the edge of the avenue, with Molly close beside, and pointed along it, waving her hand first to the right, then pointing ahead, and again to the left, apparently giving directions to proceed. Grierson and Russell Howard were all the time watching this little play with amusement. The man still appeared to be fogged, and was laughing at his stupidity, making the girl explain it all over again.

Then a cab came driving past. It was No. 346B. He bailed it, and the driver hauled his horse up short. The stranger had apparently come to the conclusion that it would be better to drive where he wanted to go, and started in to explain to the cabby where he was to drive. The cabby appeared to be hard of understanding as well, and the nurse girl, with more laughing, had to instruct him also. To speak to him she came close alongside, and while her attention was occupied the stranger suddenly picked up Molly and jumped with her into the cab, while the cabman whipped up his horse, and dashed off, leaving the girl standing staring after them.

Russell Howard and his friend were not the only ones interested, for as the cab drove off another came into the avenue.

It was the one that had been waiting on the other side of the street, and as it pulled up Mrs. Flanagan, clutching, an umbrella, with her skirts held high, showing a plentiful display of white stocking, ran out from behind a tree, and dived in almost before if stopped.

The two men laughed as the second cab went off in pursuit of the first.

"There is no need for us to rush," said Howard. "Mrs. Flanagan can be trusted not to lose sight of that cab, which will probably not go direct to Charing Cross, but if we make our way there I think we shall be able to see the end of this little adventure, which ought to be amusing."

They waited at the entrance to the railway station for some minutes before the cab drove up. The man had hardly taken Molly out and hurried her away when Mrs. Flanagan tumbled out of another cab, and rushed after, gripping her umbrella. They had to run to keep her in. sight, and arrived just in time to see her sail into the major. That gentleman had taken his seat in a first-class compartment, of which he was the only occupant.

His accomplice had just handed Molly in when Mrs. Flanagan descended upon him a hurricane, with her umbrella working like the sails of a windmill. His silk hat went flying, and the umbrella, landed on his shoulders and back without mercy. He tried to close with her, but a vicious prod with the point in the ribs send him gasping on the cushions. The other man tried to go to his rescue, but the point of that terrible umbrella caught him in the wind, and he went tumbling out backwards on to the platform, and as people came rushing up he quietly disappeared. The major was rolling on the seat and the floor, trying to hold her round the legs— anything to stay that merciless hail of blows that was descending upon him. His coat was dragged nearly off, his collar was mashed like a concertina, and his tie was all askew round his neck.

She grabbed him by the coat collar, and banged him about, talking to him all the time. "Ye merciless thafe, ye low-down spalpeen, ye dirthy, sneaking blaguard!" she said with a gasp and a blow between, each. "I'll tache ye to come stalin' respectable peoples childer!"

She had a fine vocabulary when roused, and she gave the major the full benefit of it. By this time a crowd bad gathered round the carriage-door, and two porters grabbed her from the back, and were hauling her out. She did not let go her hold on the major's collar, though, and he came with her. He sprawled on his knees on the platform, and was assisted to his feet. The porters managed to relieve Miss Flanagan of her umbrella, and she stood tugging her bonnet straight with both and talking without pause at her victim.

He looked perfectly limp, and an absolute wreck as two men supported him.

Two policemen came pushing their way through, enquiring what was the matter. When Mrs Flanagan saw them, her eyes lit up.

"Ah, new, ye dirthy scoundrel, ye won't get away!" she said triumphantly. "He's been after stalin' me darter, constable," she said. "Him an' another man."

The constables were rather incredulous when they heard all of her story. They could hardly see why this man should steal her daughter.  Then Grierson stepped forward,  Howard remaining in the background

"She's right, constable," he said. "I was in the park and saw it. I saw another man pick up the youngster and drive off, leaving the nurse behind, and I saw him hand her over to this man here. You'd better take him in charge until you find the nurse who was with her, anyway."

In spite of all Major Devine's protests, he was taken to the police station, with Mrs. Flanagan following, and there she charged him with stealing her daughter. The cabman and the other man were found, and they admitted that they had been employed by the major to steal his own child, and they had taken in mistake Mrs. Flanagan's daughter, who had been sent out with the nurse instead of his daughter.

The Magistrate, in fining the major heavily, commented strongly on his taking the law into his own hands, and said it was no mitigation of the offence that his agents had stolen the wrong child. People must be taught to take proper legal steps if they wished to regain the custody of their offspring, and, by acting as he did, he had clearly shown himself to be an unsuitable person to have custody of his daughter. If the public were to go around arranging for the stealing of children in this way, then no child would be safe. He would therefore inflict the heaviest penalty for the offence which he was able.

AFTER THE publicity which was given to this case Major Devine did not find the London air too pleasant, and shortly, afterwards removed to the more congenial atmosphere of Monte Carlo. He has not since returned to England, and has not further troubled his wife, and his record has been such that she has now no fear that the law might give him the custody of her daughter should he demand it.

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11: The Fire Insurance Matter

EVERYONE will recall to mind the successful claims of the Mullins Millions Syndicate in England a few years ago. Property, the value of which ran into millions of pounds, had remained in Chancery for many years, until the discovery of some old letters led a certain William Mullins to enquire into his title to the estates. He had not sufficient money of his own to prosecute his enquiries, but he satisfied a number of speculators that there was something in his claims, and they formed themselves into a syndicate, with a capital of something like £5,000, to follow up the matter.

One of the first things they did was to retain Russell Howard's services to make the necessary enquiries and searches in England. This story does not directly concern the Mullins Millions, as, although the details connected with that affair were exceedingly complicated, beyond a great deal of patient and arduous research it presented no points of great interest. It was the means, however, of bringing , Howard on a visit to Sydney after he had brought the syndicate's claims to an extremely satisfactory conclusion, and proved the Mullins Estates to be a better investment than Mount Morgan shares. He had been to Australia some years previously, and this business, together with the warm invitations of some of his principal shareholders, had determined him to repeat his visit and see how the country had grown.

It was only natural that he should meet a number of the principal business men of Sydney during his stay, and among them  was Mr. Weston; the manager of the Universal Fire Insurance Company of Australasia, a company that did one of the largest businesses in fire risks in Australia.

He had met Mr. Weston several times, and that gentleman had always taken a great interest in the many stories, that people had to tell about Russell Howard. Some of then were extravagantly untrue, but Howard neither contradicted nor confirmed. If people liked to tell extravagant stories of his abilities, he simply regarded them as advertising his business. He was quite satisfied with his own powers to wrestle with any problem given him and as it would have sometimes been awkward have to acknowledge the part he had played in certain transactions, he made a point of neither admitting nor denying them.

When Mr. Weston called on him at his hotel he was not surprised, as he had now a number of acquaintances who regularly sought him out; but it soon became apparent that he had called on business, and Russell Howard immediately became alert.

"Mr. Howard," he began, "there is a matter in connection with my business at the present time that is troubling me considerably. It presents many difficulties to me, and appears to be just such a problem that you might deal with. Now, I know that you are out here for a holiday, and, if you have any objections to hearing business matters, please tell me and I will not inflict them on you."

"My Dear Mr. Weston," replied Howard, "I have no objections whatever to taking up any case for you. My trip out was sufficient holiday, and I begin to fear I am getting rusty for want of work; so if you have any problem to submit to me I shall be most happy to attend to it. I had almost thought that everything ran too smoothly in this sunny city to need a man of my profession."

"Well, then, Mr Howard, of course I understand that anything I tell you will be treated as altogether confidential, whether you take up the case or not."

"Certainly,'' replied Howard.

"Thank you," said Mr. Weston. "You, must  excuse my asking the question, but much that I shall have to tell you is of a personal nature, and I should not like it to go further."

"You have my word," said Howard, "that everything you tell me will be regarded as an absolute secret."

"Mr. Howard,  you must know that I have a nephew who not been altogether a credit to his family. He was employed as a bookkeeper by  Felix Bergstrom & Sons, a large retail house in this city. He had access to a large amount of cash every day; and, I am sorry to say he helped himself to a considerable amount  of it to cover his losses on the racecourses.

"Felix Bergstrom found him out, but my nephew had got away in the meantime.  He sent word in to the office that he was ill, and at home had said that he was going away for a few days' holiday.

"He had, however, obtained a passage on a boat going to Fiji, and left for there. He managed to get clear away without leaving any trace, and although Felix Bergstrom had detectives at work, he never found out where he had gone.

"He left a letter for me saying that he was going to Fiji, and asking me to let his people know and to ask them to forgive him. He was going to try and strike out for himself under a new name, he said. He never thought that he would be unable to return the money he had taken until the end, that he could not face the disgrace so had cleared out. He intended to try and earn sufficient to pay back the amount he had taken, and would not rest content till this was done.

"Then he gave me some startling information. On the day before he left the firm he went into Mr. Bergstrom's private office while he was away, to get a book which it was necessary he should have in order to cloak his deficiencies.

"While he was there he heard Bergstrom returning accompanied by another man.   He had no right in the room, and should be found there an explanation would be required and it might lead to a detection of his errors; so he did the only thing that there was time for him to do, and that was to secrete himself in a large empty crate that happened to be in the room, and that had contained some specially valuable samples that the head of the firm had taken under his own care.

"He had hardly time to pull down the lid when Mr. Bergstrom walked in, talking in a loud voice to his companion about some samples he wished to show him.

"No sooner had the door been closed, however, than his manner changed.

"He quietened down, and the other man took up the running. My nephew had no opportunity of seeing him, and not once while he was there was his name mentioned, nor anything that would, give a clue to his identity. His impression of him from his voice was that he was a big, rather rough man.

" 'Let's get down to business right away,' he said. 'I want to understand exactly what you want now, for you can see that it won't do for me to come and see you every now and again. It will be better to have my instructions now, and the cheque— certainly the cheque. Then you can fix the date, and everything will happen nicely in the usual way, and you will wake up one morning and see by the papers that there has been another great fire in the city. Your warehouse will be a total loss, and you will receive the condolences of your friends— and congratulate yourself. The insurance offices will come up with the money— and there you are.'

"Felix Bergstrom laughed at this. 'Very well then,' he said. 'I've thought it all out. A Sunday will be the best day. I can make all my arrangements with the stock, and if a fire breaks out on the Sunday― well, of course, it has been a cigarette smouldering since the Saturday, or something like that. I don't care, anyway, how they account for it, so long as they don't suspect it's been set on fire, and so long as you make a good job of it.'

" 'You leave that to me,' the other man said. Then my nephew heard them draw up their chairs to the table: heard them creak as they sat down, and then the rustle of paper and scratch of a pen as he no doubt signed a cheque and handed it over.

"There were a few words more, and then Bergstrom opened the door, and for the benefit of any one within hearing said, 'Oh, well, goodby then, and if any of those samples are in your line I shall be most happy to fix you up.' Bergstrom came back and paced up and down for awhile; then, apparently becoming restless, he went out again, and my nephew heard him call to one of his clerks. 'Wilson, get that empty crate taken out of my loom, will you.' After that, it did not take him long to get clear of the room, but between the information that he had just learned and the knowledge of his own defalcations his head was in a whirl.

"That evening he had sure indications that his theft of moneys could not remain undetected longer, and he fled, writing to me what I have told you, before he left.

"Now, I am in a quandary over it. I cannot very well go to the police without bringing my nephew into it. They would want something more to go on than my suspicions, and cannot mention his name or show them the letter without putting them on his track and that I do not wish to do. For the sake of his mother I must screen him. At the same time I believe that an attempt is quite likely to be made to burn the place down. The firm of Felix Bergstrom and Son, although generally supposed to be extremely prosperous, has been lately almost in difficulties. Their name carries them along so far, but not a few business men are beginning to be afraid to trust them much further. Personally, I believe, too, that there have been a number of shady transactions with goods; buying on credit and selling at a lower figure than they can afford. If a fire came now, no one could say the amount of stock they tallied at the time, and they would be safe."

"Have you employed detectives at all?" asked Howard.

"Yes," replied Mr. Weston. "I have had two good men making enquiries, but they have discovered absolutely nothing for me. They made careful enquiries of the police, but could not place the man with whom Bergstrom made arrangements. What I have told you with regard to the firm's position has only been my own suspicions, and although I feel perfectly satisfied of them in my own mind, a good many men in Sydney would laugh at them and say I was mad."

"Then what do you want me to do?" asked Howard.

"Well," said Mr. Weston, "what would you advise? Can you tell me what to do. I am at present divided between loyalty to my company and to my nephew. I want to protect the insurance company from loss, and at the same time I also want to shield my nephew."

"I suppose, Mr. Weston," said Howard, "that as manager of the insurance company you would be entitled to make your own arrangements to guard against such a serious loss to them, as this would be probably £50.000, I should imagine, if I remember the place aright. Are you prepared to insure against this loss by paying a premium of one-half per cent.? I will put it that way."

"Yes, Mr. Howard. I will be perfectly willing, and only too glad to be free from worry for that sum."

"Then if you don't mind. Mr. Weston," said Howard, "I would prefer to be prepaid, then I will guarantee you freedom from any further worry. Of course, in matters like this, it would perhaps be impossible for me to disclose to you the means I adopted to secure the proper result, and you might possibly not be able to recognise my agency in the matter. So in all cases of this kind I make it a point to receive my fee first. I should also prefer that the money should be in gold, as that is less easy to trace than notes or a cheque, should it be attempted to prove any connection between us. If you send along my fee then, I shall consider myself at your service and immediately start on the case."

As an evidence of Mr. Weston's eagerness to obtain Russell Howard's services, the money arrived by a special messenger half an hour later. Howard lost no time in going out. There was a brightness in his eyes that had been lacking for some days past.

The hospitality of his friends had kept him chained to Sydney, for the evening at least— the days he usually had to himself— and the inaction had begun to weary him. He longed to be up and doing, but had no problems to occupy his attention. He had amused himself sketching around the harbour, and at places within easy distances of the city, but nothing pleased him like the excitement now promised.

His first visit was to the bank, where he paid in his fee. Then he made a number of visits of enquiry, and by the evening the sum total of his knowledge gained was that there was no caretaker in the building when it was closed; that Felix Bergstrom Sons had obtained, large supplies from various firms on credit; that certain special articles that they had obtained were not in stock at Bergstrom's, showing that they had considerably reduced their supplies; and that they had undoubtedly been selling for some time past at prices which other firms could not touch. His enquiries were made discreetly, and he gathered that the firms to which Felix Bergstrom & Sons were indebted had no doubts as to their reliability, but some of those houses who were undoubtedly rivals remarked with a shake of the head that "they did not know how it was done." Which might after all be put down to jealousy.

Howard then made an excuse to see Felix Bergstrom and found that he did not like his face. It was not one that he felt he could place reliance in, and this decided him. It was now Thursday, and, as he did not expect a fire to occur before Sunday at the earliest, he had two days before him.

Next day his next move was somewhat different. He hauled out of his trunks his oldest suit of clothes. It was a suit he used for knocking about in rough country, and being an old friend was rather a favourite. He held the. clothes up and looked at them.

"I'm sorry," he said, "but you don't look old enough yet. I don't like treating you this way. but I'm forced to."

He rolled them up and threw them about, then be put them on the floor and trampled; on them, and when he had worn a couple of holes in them, he appeared satisfied. He next raked out an old soft shirt and maltreated that likewise; then he dressed himself in them. An old tweed cap did for his head. He did not trouble to shave, and managed to smudge his face with dirt. He was somewhat troubled what to wear on his feet until he hunted out an old pair of white canvas shoes. When he had dirtied them sufficiently they went well with the rest of his costume.

Then he went out. He walked boldly down the stairs. If any one saw him they would only take him for a workman about, the place, but he went right out without remark.

In a back street he found a place with a sign "Lodgings for Single Men." He bargained for a room to himself, and also wanted somewhere to keep a stepladder. He said he had got a job, and would be out all day, but wanted to carry his ladder home at night. He paid for the room in advance, then said he would bring his luggage in that afternoon, and come there to stay that night.

Next, he went out, and, after diligently seeking, purchased a step ladder that would suit his purpose, together with a suit of second-hand white overalls, several miscellaneous rags, a bucket, a piece of chamois leather, and a battered gladstone bag. He put his purchases, excepting of course the ladder and bucket, into the bag, and returned fully laden to his lodgings. None of his friends would by any chance have recognised him had they met him on the street.

He had cancelled his engagements for that evening and spent the night at his new lodgings, and came to the conclusion that he had already earned his fee by the restless night he put in.

Next morning, which was Saturday, he spent in looking round town and taking stock of his proposed operations. He stayed in front of Felix Bergstrom's warehouse till one o'clock, when he saw the employees come rushing out. There was an air of briskness about everyone as they left for their Saturday afternoon's holiday.

The coverings over the shop windows were run up and the doors locked in record time. Two or three of the head clerks, whose duty it was to see that  everything was secure, at last came out through a wicket gate and waited until Felix Bergstrom himself joined them. Then the gate was locked, and, nodding to each other, they separated and went to their various homes. Howard went back to his lodgings and got out his ladder, bucket, and cloths. He told his landlord as he went out that he had a job cleaning windows for the afternoon.

He chose the Pitt street front of the big warehouse, and deliberately stood his stepladder on the footpath. Pitt street was almost empty now, and the few passersby took no particular notice of the man in white overalls, who was evidently starting work when they were leaving off. He hung out his cloths on a step of the ladder and trudged slowly off to a drinking fountain near to fill his bucket. Everything was done slowly and deliberately, as became an experienced workman who was being paid for the afternoon. He climbed the ladder to the windows of the first floor, and hoisted his bucket of water on to the broad sill. Then he sat beside it and commenced to fill his pipe, rubbing the tobacco fine in his hands, and watching with an air of detachment two newsboys having a squabble at the next corner. A policeman passed by with measured tread, but merely gave a glance up as he saw the ladder on the footpath.

There was nothing suspicious in a man cleaning windows, especially when he was smoking and wasting half his time watching what was going on in the street. He merely stepped a little on one side to avoid any splashes from the bucket. Howard conscientiously cleaned three windows, shifting his ladder along as he went. He managed to spill a fair amount of water on the pavement and so gave the idea that be had been working for some time.

At the next window he marked a small circle on the glass at the top of the lower pane, with a diamond ring, and, under cover of the cloth with which he was cleaning it, broke it in. It fell into the room with a little tinkle, leaving a hole large enough for his hand. He carefully put his hand through and slipped the latch. He pulled the top sash down and cleaned that, then throwing both sashes up to the top, stepped inside. He then went to the next two or three windows and threw them wide open also.

Everything that he did was done without any concealment, and as naturally as if he had a regular job of window cleaning. After working at them for a while and leaving his bucket and cloths in full view, he drew back out of sight into the room and commenced operations. He had a number of articles stowed about his person under his overalls. First he drew out a long piece of slow match which he had carefully calculated would burn for half an hour. He laid that on the floor; then at the far end he put a heap of loose wax matches. On top of that he laid some paper soaked in kerosene.

Next came tarred rags guaranteed to burn and smoke well. Then he hunted round for cardboard boxes and straw wrappings. He found plenty of these, and piled them up; first the boxes, then the straw, which he slightly dampened.

When he had finished he lit the slow match and watched it well started. Then he pulled the windows down at the bottom, leaving them open at the top, gathered up his things, and departed, carrying his ladder.

No one saw him at the lodging house as he left his ladder and bucket, and he did not wait a minute longer than he could help, but slipped off his overalls and stowed them with the bucket in the shed.

He then went off to his hotel, where he had the same luck as when he went out, for if any one did notice him, they merely took him for a workman about the place. He let himself into his room, changed quickly into decent clothes, and strolled out down Pitt street. He was in good time, for the half-hour was barely up, so he loitered about opposite the warehouse looking in the shop windows.

His calculations proved pretty true, however, for five minutes after the half-hour, he noticed a thin stream of smoke coming from one of the windows. This soon became stronger and stronger. There was a newsboy just near, and he pointed it out to him.

"Doesn't that look as if the place is on fire?" he said.

"B'gosh it does!" the youngster replied excitedly. "I'm off to the telephone."

He rushed off to the street fire alarm, and Howard departed, well satisfied.

THAT AFTERNOON he spent with some friends in a launch on the harbour, and the night and Sunday out of town, so he heard nothing more of the fire until the Monday morning, when air. Weston called while he was reading an account of it in the paper. That gentleman looked jubilant.

"They got ahead of us after all," he said "but it's come out all right. They started the fire, but it didn't get a chance to burn up before a newsboy saw the smoke, and had the engines down in no time. The men got to work before it properly got a hold, and put it out, and the best of it is they got evidence that it was set on fire, for there was a heap of cardboard and straw and stuff all piled up in the middle of the floor. It's the best thing that could have happened, for there will be a pretty searching enquiry now, and the firm's books will be gone into to see how they stand. Several other houses have been making enquiries about them already.

"It's the best thine that could have happened to us!" he repeated excitedly, "for even if they get out of it this time, they can't try it on again; while if the place had been burnt down and no evidence left I expect we should have had to pay."

Russell Howard agreed with his visitor that it was right into his hands, and hoped he would reward the newsboy who gave the alarm.

"Oh, rather!" said Mr. Weston, "we won't forget him, I can tell you. It's taken a great load off my mind. I can tell you I got a shock at first, though, when I opened the paper and saw the heading 'Fire in the City. Felix Bergstrom and Sons Warehouse.' I thought it was gone."

They talked for a while, then Mr Weston began to fidget slightly. At last he said:—

"Of course, there will not be any necessity for your services now. Perhaps we might come to some arrangement about it. We will, of course, pay you a fee for having placed your services at our disposal. Er— perhaps you might suggest how we should meet you."

Russell Howard smiled slightly. "I am afraid I cannot meet you in that way, Mr. Weston," he said. "I think you rather forget that I was paid somewhat in the nature of an insurance premium. You were perfectly willing to pay me that sum and ask no further questions. Now, I think you had better leave it at that. You go on with this matter now you have an opening, and push it to a definite conclusion. I am not in a position to tell you what I have done in return for your money. I may have done nothing at all; still, you are satisfied with affairs as they now stand, and you had better leave it at that."

Mr. Weston gasped. He had never for an instant connected Howard with the fire, but now he began to wonder. A look of doubt spread over his face, and he wavered. He reached round for his hat and stood up.

"But, Mr. Howard," he began, "you don't mean to say―"

Russell Howard rose and shook his hand warmly, at the same time edging him over to the door.

"Now, Mr. Weston," he said, "don't ask me any questions, and you won't get any lies. I take it you know enough to push your advantage while you have it— so goodby. If there is any other little matter, you know— only too happy to look into it for you."

Weston walked back to his office a puzzled man.

Whether Howard really knew all about this fire, or whether he was simply taking advantage of a lucky turn of events, was more than he could tell.

NOTHING was proved against Felix Bergstrom on account, of the fire. The place had evidently been broken into and set on fire, and a policeman remembered having seen a man cleaning the windows a short time before, but no trace of him could be found. The ladder and other articles even were not mentioned by the lodging house keeper, who evidently determined to keep them for his own use. The firm's books, however, disclosed a bad state of affairs, and the firm was forced into liquidation, and subsequently Russell Howard saw, by papers sent him, proceedings were being taken against them for fraud.

___________________

12: The Open Shaft

RUSSELL HOWARD did not imagine for  one moment that he had had the last word with Rabone Skinner when he started him on his trip across America. Little matters like these, however, he did not allow to trouble him. Rather, they added a certain zest to his travels. It was like playing a game of chess with an opponent of equal calibre. As a rule he could pit his wits against an opponent and win easily, because his opponent did not know he was in the game; but to know that there were a good many persons around who had excellent reasons for doing him harm, and who would lose no opportunity of hitting at him, added a certain amount of spice to his trips and, far from making him anxious, simply added to his enjoyment.

Some twelve months after he had been the cause of the temporary absence from Chicago of one of its most prominent millionaires, he again found himself in that city on business. That business does not concern this story, except that it was the cause of his being there. It was of an extremely delicate and confidential nature, and, after having been engaged upon it for three weeks, he had at last forwarded a final report to his employer, and felt himself at liberty for the first time to look around him.

He was passionately fond of travel and of seeing men and places, and his original profession of adjusting affair that were too tangled for other people provided him with the means of gratifying his tastes.

Amongst his acquaintances in Chicago was Henry J. Devlin, well-known in mining circles, and deeply interested in goldmines in the west, and Howard, in the process of looking round, bumped up against him.

"Just the man I want," he said. "Come along in here if you can spend half an hour."

"In here" was about six stories up In the lift of a building near by, and was Henry J. Devlin's private office, where he wove the threads of mining stock in and out to suit his fancies.

"I'm a bit bothered," he said. "Things are not going just as I expected with  the 'Golden Bee' mine out west. I know I can let you into mining secrets, for you don't go on mining stock yourself. Well― I've bought this mine right out just lately, and I want to sell shares for a bit more than I gave, you can imagine, but somehow they don't go. The mine expert's report is all right, and I've boomed the concern well. In fact I honestly believe it's as good as any other mine, and that's all you can expect, isn't it? Still, shares don't go off, and I've come to the conclusion there's some monkeying going on. Now, I'm due in New York to-morrow, and for another week on, and I want to know as soon as possible what's the matter with the 'Golden Bee,' I can't go myself, and I don't know whom to send unless you'll take it on. Will you? All exes and a mining expert's fee for your trouble. I'd like you to go, as you are a stranger here, and not interested, whereas any other man I picked out might throw me over and make money at my expense."

It did not take Howard long to make up his mind. It was an opportunity to see fresh country, and he closed with the offer. He had been on several goldfields in Australia, and worked on a couple of them for a week or two merely to gain as much practical experience as he could. In other ways he had picked up a lot of general information on mining, and was quite confident that he would be able to perform his part of the contract satisfactorily.

Devlin entered into long particulars of what he wished to know, and wrote him a cheque for his expenses.

"Now, have a look for yourself," he said at parting. ''Go down the shaft and get some of the stuff from some place where you are sure it hasn't been doctored ; that's the main thing. I'll be satisfied with what you bring me. The place is pretty rough, you know, and nothing much has been done in the way of improvements yet; still I don't suppose you will mind that much, will you?"

Golden City, California, was a city some twelve months old, and its total population consisted of a couple of hundred miners who worked in the mines around, of which the "Golden Bee" was one.

Work was at present suspended at this mine while its stock was being manipulated by Henry J. Devlin, but the whole country for a couple of miles around was pitted with shafts. It seemed almost incredible that so many holes could have been dug in a year; but at times there had been a considerable number of men working. Just at present the population was at its lowest.

Outside the town it was not good to wander about at night. Open unprotected shafts wore on all hides, ranging from thirty to three or four hundred feet in depth. Some of them were still being worked, but the majority had been abandoned.

Russell Howard arrived here four days after he had agreed with Devlin to come, and although he had been prepared to find the place somewhat rough, he quickly came to the conclusion that it was not a spot to stay long in for enjoyment.

The country around was bare and burnt looking, while the heaps of debris around the mouths of the open shafts, with here and there remains of broken woodwork, gave it a most depressing appearance.

He had made all the inquiries possible, and it now remained only to go down the shaft and examine the mine for himself.

He found it extremely difficult to get information from the residents. They were morose and distrustful, and seemed to think anything they told him would be used to their injury. Still, he found out enough to make him feel confident that good paying gold had been obtained from several of the mines around― apart from the "Golden Bee"; and that there was sufficient of it in sight to make the mines a good investment. The way the owners and directors of companies were juggling with the stock, however, prevented them from being worked as they should be.

There were three employees belonging to the "Golden Bee," and Howard was not very favourably impressed with any one of them. They were a villainous looking trio, and he had hardly seen a worse-looking lot in the whole of the United States. None of the miners were very much given to personal cleanliness or paid much attention to their appearance, still he was convinced that no amount of cleaning up would make these three look presentable.

They were all he had to depend on, however, as he would not have been able to persuade anyone else to interfere in their business, if he had tried.

So far, they had taken their own time in giving him any information that he bad asked for, and had been so independent that he was quite surprised when Sam― usually known as "Poker Sam" from his fondness for that game― arrived almost punctually to take him over and lower him down the shaft.

It was a walk of about a quarter of a mile, and they went for the most part in silence.

"Poker Sam" was not given to be communicative, and Howard had found from experience that it, was best not to try and force the conversation. So they walked along, Howard as usual looking around him with an observant eye, and Sam slouching beside, pipe in his mouth, as if perfectly unaware that any other person was there, and apparently utterly indifferent to the fact.

Two men loading rocks into a tin dray were the only moving objects to be seen, and Howard, wondering at such unusual energy, asked his companion what they were going to do. Poker Sam lifted one eye lid slightly in their direction and then promptly lost interest in them again.

"Shiftin' stones," he said, briefly.  "Goin' ter dump them somewhere else."

This was not very explicit, but Sam did not look likely to give more information, so the conversation dropped again. He seemed rather resentful that his repose had been disturbed by this meddling stranger, who evidently expected him to work when wanted; but when at last they reached the shaft he became comparatively loquacious.

"This here's the hole," he said, leaning up against a rough windlass as he spat down the shaft. "That there, an' that, an' that, an' them three over there," indicating with a sweep of the hand other adjacent heaps of clay that lay alongside other "holes," " 'er all b'longin' to this 'ere consarn, but this is the last dug, an' I suspicion it'll be the one you'll be wantin' to slide down."

It didn't look at all inviting. The shaft was not wide; it may have been about four feet by two or perhaps less. It was impossible to see more than a few feet down, and a stone dropped seemed to take a pretty considerable while to reach the bottom.

"Poker Sam," too, did not impress him with too much confidence. He was all he had to depend upon to get him safely down and up again; still he was the only one he could get for the job, and it never entered his head for one moment that he should not carry out his part of the contract merely because his assistant had not a pleasant face.

"Poker Sam" handed him a pick, and he stepped into the bucket, fastened to the rope and told him to lower away.

He descended with a rush for the first forty feet. Sam had evidently no concern for his nerves, and was no doubt totally indifferent to his feelings. Then the descent became steadier.

He had a lighted lantern fastened to his belt, and could see the markings of the side of the shaft as he de scended The rope was twisting with his weight and he was not experienced enough to steady it; indeed he hung on as tight as possible, for the sensation of dropping was not altogether pleasant, and he could not help thinking how completely he was at Sam's mercy.

He could just note in the glimmer of light from the lantern the different strata they passed through and the pick mark in the earth. Then he reached the bottom with a splash and a bump, and hi stepped gingerly out into a foot of water and mud.

A lateral drive should have gone of here, and he flashed his lantern around to see the way; but although he examined all four sides, there was no outlet. Then he thought that the drive had been made higher up and he had missed it on the way down, so he shouted up to Sam for information. There was no reply, and in spite of himself the silence made him shiver. He was standing with water and mud over the tops of his boots, and all he could see was a circle of light about two feet in diameter wherever he turned his lantern on the side of the shaft.

Overhead was a thick, sooty blackness with far up just a little square of light. As he strained his neck looking upwards a shadow passed over the opening and he felt the rope which he still held in his hand quiver and slacken. He bent his head and hunched his shoulders, turning to the side of the shaft as if by instinct, as the rope came dropping, curling, and twisting upon him, splashing in twisted coils in the water at his feet.

He shouted, but no reply came. He tried again and again, but not a sound reached him, and not even a shadow passed over the opening, far above, of the shaft. Evidently he had been deserted. He tried to think why they should leave him at the bottom of the shaft like this. They could not think that he would stop there for ever. He had his pick with him, and although it would be a long and tedious job, he could cut step holes and eventually work his way out.

It could hardly be a rough practical joke, for the place was not altogether so uncivilised that they could do a thing like this with impunity, and he could not think that they simply wanted him out of the road while they made away with his personal effects. They were few and hardy worth stealing, and opportunities would have offered without going to this extremity.

However, he did not lose any time standing where he was. As soon as he realised that he was abandoned, he set about climbing out.

With his pick he cut himself foot-holds on one side of the shaft, which was narrow enough to brace his back against the other side while he worked. It was hard work though in such a cramped attitude.

The shaft, he calculated, must have been fully a hundred feet deep, and he  had already climbed some dozen feet of this when a thought came to him so suddenly that he suspended operations for a couple of seconds; and then instead of with a few strokes of the pick digging out a hole large enough for his foot to grip in, he attacked the crumbling soil vigorously tearing out great lumps from the face of the clean cut side.

He did not pause for rest, but kept on as if working against time, until at last his cramped muscles ached so much that his arms were almost powerless.

By that time he had dug a hole about twelve feet from the bottom, in which he could just stand upright, and which would just shelter him from being struck by anything falling down the shaft.

The significance of that dray-load of rocks that he had seen on the way to the mine had dawned upon him, and hi realised that if anyone wished for his complete disappearance there would be no better way than burying him under a heap of rocks at the bottom of this shaft.

His work was finished none too soon: for while he was rubbing the muscles of his arms and trying to get a little of the ache out of them ho heard the creaking of a dray and the quick, heavy footfalls of the horses, as they planted their feet firmly on the ground, straining up with their heavy load.

He could just hear men talking to each other, then louder shouts as they stopped the horses on the brow of the hill. There was a clinking of chains as they unhooked the leader, then they evidently allowed a breathing spell for a few minutes.

Howard waited expectantly, smiling quietly.

Then came two or three loud shouts to the horses, the crack of a whip, and a bump as the wheels chocked against the wooden frame on the ground around the mouth of the shaft. There was a rattling noise as the back board was taken out; then with a rushing, crashing, deafening sound, the load of rocks came hurtling down the shaft, filling it from side to side and piling up in a mass five or six feet high.

Howard was unhurt, but nearly blinded and stifled by the dust. As soon as he could he looked out up the shaft, and as the dust thinned and presently cleared away, he could see against the little patch of light, three round black heads. He knew it was impossible for them to see him in the inky darkness, and he heard them laugh.

"Guess he won't want no other dose of that," said one, and the words came down to him quite distinctly. "Old Rabone Skinner oughter be pleased with the job," was the next he heard. They laughed again, and their heads disappeared.

He could hear them moving about for a while, and presently they seemed to be taking the windlass away. Then he heard the rattling of chains again as they hitched up the horses, and then the empty dray went bumping off over the rough ground.

There was complete silence, and he came out of his shelter and jumped down on the rocks.

There would have been no doubt whatever about the completeness of the job if he had only stayed underneath, but as it was, he considered his chance was still of the best.

As soon as he heard Rabone Skinner's name he knew whom he had to thank for the whole thing. The trip had been arranged specially for him. Devlin was one of Skinner's tools, and probably knew no more than the getting of him to The "Golden Bee", and would presumably ask no questions if he did not return.

Skinner, no doubt, had arranged the rest directly with his men on the idea that the fewer who know the better, and the whole thing might have been a success, if only Howard had not seen that dray load of stones on the way.

As it was now, he considered he held a fair number of good cards in his hand, and it was his turn to play.

To carry out his plan he did not wish to come out before dark, so he sat down on the rocks to rest.

The darkness presently became oppressive, so he lit his lantern, which he had carried up with him, and for want of something to do examined the shelter he had dug for himself.

The earth here was nearly all a kind of decomposed brown rock, easily crumbling up, and, as the lantern's light flashed upon it, he saw specks of some bright metallic substance imbedded in it. This led him to examine it more closely, and he found that through accident he had hit upon a patch of rich golden ore. This vein was of considerable extent, and gave promise of running strongly for some distance. He examined it as fully as he could under the circumstances, and then filled his pockets with specimens.

By now, he judged it was quite time to start his upward journey, as the light overhead was becoming less strong. It was a slow and, tedious job. He worked at it for hours, taking spells now and again to rest, but, at last he cut the last step and wearily hauled himself out on to the mound of earth around the shaft's mouth.

The sky was dark and the stars shining brightly. There was a beautifully cool breeze blowing, and he lay there with his arms outstretched, drinking in the delightful air. He lay for nearly an hour before he felt sufficiently rested to move, then looking at his watch he found that it was nearly half past nine.

The miners― at least those of them who frequented the saloons― and it was among these that he expected to find his three friends― did not keep early hours, so he was in no hurry.

He felt in need of something to eat and drink, but at present did not wish to be seen. There was a miner's shack, however, on the side of the hill, whose owner would certainly be at his saloon, and he intended to try there for something to eat and drink, and perhaps something else he needed.

He was glad now of the lantern as he threaded his way in and out among the abandoned shafts. Without it he stood a very good chance of landing at the bottom of another.

At last he reached the hut he was in search of. As he expected, the door was unfastened, so he went in without hesitation, closing it behind him.

A search soon revealed some bread and cold cooked meat, and although not particularly inviting, he ate as much of it as he could, and then took a long draught of water.

Then he took his lantern and rummaged round the room. He scanned all the walls without success, but an exclamation of delight escaped him as he saw what he had only half hoped to see, lying tossed on the blankets in one corner.

It was a revolver in a belt! Howard had been hoping the owner would have a spare gun, for he knew he would not go to the saloon without one. He picked it up and loaded it with some cartridges from a box that stood handy, thrusting some spare ones into his pocket.

He tossed some dollars onto the blankets to pay for what he had taken, and then putting out the light, pushed open the door and went out.

He was on the open road now, and had no fear of pitfalls, while at the same time it was too dark for anyone to recognise him.

The saloon was brightly lit up with kerosene lamps, and the window and door were wide open. He could see in without any fear of being seen, and he stood there for a few minutes to accustom himself to the state of affairs.

Fortunately, the three men he wanted were together. Even in this gathering of rough characters from all parts of the world where one did not enquire too closely into the past affairs of his neighbours, they were regarded rather as black sheep. The other miners did not altogether shun them, but seemed to prefer that they should keep to themselves.

Russel Howard's appearance inside was unexpected and quite dramatic.

"Poker Sam" had a glass of beer to his lips when he found himself looking down the barrel of a revolver held by quite the last man he expected to see again. The shock was so great that he spilt the beer, and it trickled down his chin, while he stared with mouth wide open. Howard had to repeat his sharp command of "Hands up!" before he could altogether realise it. When he did, however, at the second time of asking, the look in Howard's face was so compelling that he dropped his glass on the floor in his hurry , to get them above his head.

One of his two friends-the "Dago" had elevated his without trouble; but I the other, "Black Peter," made a movement of his hand towards his belt before he realised that he was covered. He was sitting with his back towards Howard, and his hand sought his revolver as he turned his head to see the cause of the trouble. As with "Poker Sam," the sight of Howard's face was sufficient, and his hands also went suddenly aloft

"Gentleman," said Howard, keeping his three men covered, but addressing the rest of the company, "I have a little private business with these men, and I trust that you will give me fair play. I'm a stranger here, and don't mind a joke in the least, but when it comes to getting me down a hundred foot shaft and then trying to tip a dray load of rocks on top, it fails to be amusing. Now, I don't think these men here did it for their own amusement, but I want to know who was behind them, and providing they own up and sign the paper that I shall ask them to sign, I'm not proposing to hurt them― but if they refuse, I guess there's going to be trouble."

Howard's speech was received without comment, but there was no movement made to interfere. The others only showed general interest, and waited to see how the Englishman  would handle the affair.

He turned to "Poker Sam":

"You seem to have had a leading part in this," he said. "Suppose you tell me all about it."

"Got nothin' to tell, stranger,"' said Sam shortly and sullenly.

"And you?" he asked, turning to the Italian.

"I know nothing," he said, showing his white teeth in a grin.

"Anythin' you'll get from me'll he harmless," growled Black Pete, as he turned to him.

"Well, suppose I tell you just what I know first," said Howard cheerfully. "Suppose I tell you it was Mr. Rabone Skinner who arranged this little surprise for me."

The men's eyes shifted slightly as he said this.

"Now, I know all that, and all I want now is for you to sign a statement saying this, and just what he gave you for the whole job, etc. If you do this you can go scot-free as far as I am concerned, although I should think the other residents here will ask you to move along. Now, have I your promise to do this―"

He looked from one face to another. Poker Sam's and Black Pete's each wore a look of stony indifference, while the Dago's had a mocking smile.

He went on again just as cheerfully

"You don't seem to take to my proposal. Well, then, these are my terms. I've six cartridges in this revolver― that's one for each arm you are holding up. Now if you don't signify while I count thirty that you agree, I start from left to right, and I'll put a bullet in each arm, and if you move I'll shoot to kill. I've a perfect right, for you tried to kill me a while ago― and I mean it!"

They looked at his face, and the lines round his mouth had set firmly, and there was a steely look about his eyes. The Dago went decidedly paler.

Howard began to count. There was not a sound in the room. All the other visitors kept a respectful distance back, and were watching with unblinking eyes, while their drinks stood neglected on the tables.

"Fifteen― sixteen― seventeen, ' he went on monotonously. The tension was great, but still there was no movement or other sound.

"Twenty― twenty-one― "

Someone at the back of the room hiccoughed with excitement, and at the same instant "Black Pete's" hand dropped like lightning to the handle of his revolver. Simultaneously he kicked his chair back and ducked, but also at the same moment Howard's revolver cracked, and he rolled over, writhing with the pain of a shattered shoulder. His revolver flew from his hand and went skidding along the floor.

Howard's revolver seemed only to slightly waver, and before the gasp of excitement from the onlookers was over, it was covering the two remaining at the table.

He went on counting as if nothing had happened :

"Twenty-six― twenty-seven―" and shifted his weapon slightly round to point at the Dago's arm.

That gentleman's hand shook, and as he reached twenty-nine he gave in.

"Don't shoota," he said, "I tella you all you want."

Howard turned to Poker Sam with a questioning look.

"All right," he growled. "Guess I'm not goin' to get my arm in a sling for Old Skinner, and if the Dago's goin' to sign, I'll sign too."

There was a general movement in the room. The tension was over, and most of them covered their feelings by emptying their glasses.

Russell Howard spoke again, still keeping a wary eye on his men.

"Gentlemen,'' he said, "you have heard them agree to my terms ; might I ask some of you to kindly disarm them to save further trouble, and also to bring paper and pen."

Three or four men passed quickly behind tho Dago and Sam, and slipping their arms round their waists removed their revolvers. They appreciated tho way the stranger had handled matters, and were now willing to assist.

The man that ran the saloon brought pen and ink and paper, and offered his services to write out the confession. Howard gladly accepted, and the Dago and Sam proceeded to dictate, each helping the other out.

At the end they signed.

The Dago could write his name, but "Poker Sam" and "Black Pete," who was brought to the table for the purpose, made their marks.

Howard then asked for two or three others to witness the document, and the miners began tumbling over each other in their eagerness to oblige

A WEEK LATER, when back in Chicago, he posted a copy of this to Rabone Skinner, with a letter in which he gave him his opinion of his conduct.

"Possibly," he ended, "Mr. Skinner might consider that he had a right to get even with him, but he should not have proceeded to such extremes. For the present he was inclined to let the matter rest, but if any further attempt were made against him he would make use of the confession, and give him a particularly bad time."

Devlin had apparently got wind of his return, for he had left for a prolonged vacation in the mountains without waiting for the report on the "Golden Bee" mine.

Russell Howard and two or three of his friends bought all the shares after seeing an assay of the shares he brought away, and, thanks to Rabone Skinner, the "Golden Bee" has been a means of adding to his income ever since.

End

Transcriber's Note: These stories were taken from various Australian newspapers via the TROVE Australian National Library on-line resource.

The Albury Banner and Wodonga Express

Queensland Times

Western Mail

The Register

Gippsland Times

Evening Journal

The North West Post

The Maitland Weekly Mercury

The stories were published in 1909 in book form by The Bookstall company, which published cheap 1/- paperback style books in Australia for many years.

Table of Contents

- 1: The Hercules Cameo
- 2: The Seventh Burglary
- 3: The Removal of the Millionaire
- 4: The Case of Lord Ponderry
- 5: The Scheming Lady
- 6: The Two Wax Candles
- 7: The Lady with the Pince-Nez
- 8: The Modern Highwayman
- 9: The Prince's Letter
- 10: The Man Who Stole the Child
- 11: The Fire Insurance Matter
- 12: The Open Shaft