The chase of the golden plateJacques Futrelle ES OF THE GOLDEN paid lenge Frames Hayden 2. E lider and I searched the pagás haud en die established la fani Hyde, that he was the trailginile, vas proven when OLIVER in the ning that was stala te maak of the owner in its The Things Nadie produced the ti kelio Destire Mallory, who had trata de zay from him slowly but : and i ni a new and absorb Bilder and I leamed of the insur Heliade natur-that is when we kort ir lag laus Harden was not de bor hul hear a fraud. Mi Hayden har kerana tehas Chester Goodrich Ml Herbert, in his absence tenie w te jewels in his apartments and be wow the day of the master dem hasta la cazan/member bei Futrelle Si Jacques INS 2021 ZUDE MEDIULUI UAB 2014/11 2012 DON 22222 2011 05 DO 22 25727 BAU I NON The Chase of the Golden Plate # Prize at Whist held at Miss C. E. Gales house and won by Alsaceae 11-28-06. The Chase of the Golden Plate By Jacques Futrelle With Illustrations by Will Grefé and Decorations by E. A. Poucher New York Dodd, Mead & Company 1906 The Chase of the Golden Plate By Jacques Futrelle With Illustrations by Will Grefé and Decorations by E. A. Poucher New York Dodd, Mead & Company 1906 108 The Chase of the Golden Plate Prize at Whist held at Miss C.C. Galet house and won by Phonecase 11-23-06, " You really do not love him, anyway,' he ventured” The Chase of the Golden Plate By Jacques Futrelle With Illustrations by Will Grefé and Decorations by E. A. Poucher New York Dodd, Mead & Company 1906 KDH824 HARVARD COLLEGE LIBRARY AL 1598.4.6 COPYRIGHT, 1906, BY THE CURTIS PUBLISHING COMPANY Copyright, 1906, BY DODD, MEAD & COMPANY Published, October, 1906 HARVARD UNIVERSITY LIBRARY MAY 12 1971 Jo Three Women I Love : FAMA, and MAYZIE, and BERTA PART I THE BURGLAR AND THE GIRE DIN TELIEU CHAPTER I CARDINAL Richelieu and the Mikado stepped out on a narrow balcony overlooking the entrance to Seven Oaks, lighted their cigarettes and stood idly watching the throng as it poured up the wide marble steps. Here was an over-corpulent Dow- ager Empress of China, there an Indian warrior in full paint and toggery, and mincing along behind him two giggling Geisha girls. Next, in splendid robes of rank, came the Czar of Russia. The Mikado smiled. * An old enemy of mine," he remarked to the Cardinal. A Watteau Shepherdess was assisted out of an CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE automobile by Christopher Columbus and they came up the walk arm-in-arm, while a Pierrette ran beside them laughing up into their faces. D'Artagnan, Athos, Aramis, and Porthos swag- gered along with insolent, clanking swords. “Ah!” exclaimed the Cardinal. “There are four gentlemen whom I know well.” Mary Queen of Scots, Pocahontas, the Sultan of Turkey, and Mr. Micawber chatted amicably together in one language. Behind them came a figure which immediately arrested attention. It was a Burglar, with dark lantern in one hand and revolver in the other. A black mask was drawn down to his lips, a slouch hat shaded his eyes, and a kit of the tools of his profession swung from one shoulder. “By George!” commented the Cardinal. “Now, that's clever." “Looks like the real thing," the Mikado added. The Burglar stood aside a moment, allowing a diamond-burdened Queen Elizabeth to pass, then came on up the steps. The Cardinal and the Mikado passed through an open window into the reception-room to witness his arrival. “A figure which immediately arrested attention” CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE 3 “Her Royal Highness, Queen Elizabeth!” the graven-faced servant announced. The Burglar handed a card to the liveried Voice and noted, with obvious amusement, a fleeting ex- pression of astonishment on the stolid face. Per- haps it was there because the card had been offered in that hand which held the revolver. The Voice glanced at the name on the card and took a deep breath of relief. “ Bill, the Burglar!” he announced. There was a murmur of astonishment and inter- est in the reception-hall and the ballroom beyond. S . Thus it was that the Burglar found himself the centre of attention for a moment, while a ripple of laughter ran around. The entrance of a Clown, bounding in behind him, drew all eyes away, how- ever, and the Burglar was absorbed in the crowd. It was only a few minutes later that Cardinal Richelieu and the Mikado, seeking diversion, iso- lated the Burglar and dragged him off to the smok- ing-room. There the Czar of Russia, who was on 4 CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE CE such terms of intimacy with the Mikado that he called him Mike, joined them, and they smoked together. “How did you ever come to hit on a costume like that?" asked the Cardinal of the Burglar. The Burglar laughed, disclosing two rows of strong, white teeth. A cleft in the square-cut, clean-shaven chin, visible below the mask, became more pronounced. A woman would have called it a dimple. "I wanted something different,” he explained. “I couldn't imagine anything more extraordinary than a real burglar here ready to do business, so I came." “It's lucky the police didn't see you,” remarked the Czar. Again the Burglar laughed. He was evidently a good-natured craftsman, despite his sinister garb. “That was my one fear—that I would be pinched before I arrived,” he replied. “ Pinched,' I may explain, is a technical term in my profession meaning jugged, nabbed, collared, run in. It seemed that my fears had some foundation, too, for when I drove up in my auto and stepped out a CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE 5 couple of plain-clothes men stared at me pretty hard." He laid aside the dark lantern and revolver to light a fresh cigarette. The Mikado picked up the lantern and flashed the light on and off several times, while the Czar sighted the revolver at the floor. “Better not do that,” suggested the Burglar casually. “It's loaded.” “Loaded ? ” repeated the Czar. He laid down the revolver gingerly. “Surest thing, you know," and the Burglar laughed quizzically. “I'm the real thing, you see, so naturally my revolver is loaded. I think I ought to be able to make quite a good haul, as we say, before unmasking-time.” "If you're as clever as your appearance would indicate," said the Cardinal admiringly, “I see no reason why it shouldn't be worth while. You might, for instance, make a collection of Eliza- W 6 CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE bethan jewels. I have noticed four Elizabeths so far, and it's early yet.” “Oh, I'll make it pay," the Burglar assured him lightly. “ I'm pretty clever; practised a good deal, you know. Just to show you that I am an expert, here is a watch and pin I took from my friend, the Czar, five minutes ago.” He extended a well-gloved hand in which lay the watch and diamond pin. The Czar stared at 289 them a moment in frank astonishment; patted him- self all over in sudden trepidation; then laughed sheepishly. The Mikado tilted his cigar up to a level with the slant eyes of his mask, and laughed. “In the language of diplomacy, Nick," he told the Czar, “you are what is known as ' easy.' I thought I had convinced you of that.” “Gad, you are clever,” remarked the Cardinal. “I might have used you along with D'Artagnan and the others." The Burglar laughed again and stood up lazily. CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE 7 “Come on, this is stupid,” he suggested. “Let's go out and see what's doing.”. “Say, just between ourselves tell us who you are," urged the Czar. “Your voice seems famil- iar, but I can't place you." “Wait till unmasking-time," retorted the Burg- lar good-naturedly. “Then you'll know. Or if you think you could bribe that stone image who took my card at the door you might try. He'll remember me. I never saw a man so startled in all my life as he was when I appeared.” The quartet sauntered out into the ballroom just as the signal for the grand march was given. A few minutes later the kaleidoscopic picture began to move. Stuyvesant Randolph, the host, as Sir Walter Raleigh, and his superb wife, as Cleopatra, looked upon the mass of colour, and gleaming shoulders, and jewels, and brilliant uniforms, and found it good—extremely good. Mr. Randolph smiled behind his mask at the striking incongruities on every hand: Queen Eliza- civil 8 CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE beth and Mr. Micawber; Cardinal Richelieu and a Pierrette; a Clown dancing attendance on Marie Antoinette. The Czar of Russia paid deep and devoted attention to a light-footed Geisha girl, while the Mikado and Folly, a jingling thing in bells and abbreviated skirts, romped together. The grotesque figure of the march was the Burglar. His revolver was thrust carelessly into a pocket and the dark lantern hung at his belt. He was pouring a stream of pleasing nonsense into the august ear of Lady Macbeth, nimbly seeking at the same time to evade the pompous train of the Dowager Empress. The grand march came to an end and the chattering throng broke up into little groups. Cardinal Richelieu strolled along with a Pier- rette on his arm. “Business good?” he inquired of the Burglar. “Expect it to be," was the reply. The Pierrette came and, standing on her tip- toes—silly, impractical sort of toes they were- made a moue at the Burglar. “Oooh!” she exclaimed. “You are perfectly horrid.” “Thank you," retorted the Burglar. 8 CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE beth and Mr. Micawber; Cardinal Richelieu and a Pierrette; a Clown dancing attendance on Marie Antoinette. The Czar of Russia paid deep and devoted attention to a light-footed Geisha girl, while the Mikado and Folly, a jingling thing in bells and abbreviated skirts, romped together. The grotesque figure of the march was the Burglar. His revolver was thrust carelessly into a pocket and the dark lantern hung at his belt. He was pouring a stream of pleasing nonsense into the august ear of Lady Macbeth, nimbly seeking at the same time to evade the pompous train of the Dowager Empress. The grand march came to an end and the chattering throng broke up into little groups. Cardinal Richelieu strolled along with a Pier- rette on his arm. “Business good?” he inquired of the Burglar. “Expect it to be," was the reply. The Pierrette came and, standing on her tip- toes—silly, impractical sort of toes they were- made a moue at the Burglar. "Oooh!” she exclaimed. “You are perfectly horrid.” “Thank you," retorted the Burglar. CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE 9 He bowed gravely, and the Cardinal, with his companion, passed on. The Burglar stood gazing after them a moment, then glanced around the room, curiously, two or three times. He might have been looking for someone. Finally he wan- dered away aimlessly through the crowd. akan 8 CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE beth and Mr. Micawber; Cardinal Richelieu and a Pierrette; a Clown dancing attendance on Marie Antoinette. The Czar of Russia paid deep and devoted attention to a light-footed Geisha girl, while the Mikado and Folly, a jingling thing in bells and abbreviated skirts, romped together. The grotesque figure of the march was the Burglar. His revolver was thrust carelessly into a pocket and the dark lantern hung at his belt. He was pouring a stream of pleasing nonsense into the august ear of Lady Macbeth, nimbly seeking at the same time to evade the pompous train of the Dowager Empress. The grand march came to an end and the chattering throng broke up into little groups. Cardinal Richelieu strolled along with a Pier- rette on his arm. “Business good?” he inquired of the Burglar. “Expect it to be," was the reply. The Pierrette came and, standing on her tip- toes—silly, impractical sort of toes they were— made a moue at the Burglar. “Oooh!” she exclaimed. “You are perfectly horrid." “Thank you,” retorted the Burglar. CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE 9 He bowed gravely, and the Cardinal, with his companion, passed on. The Burglar stood gazing after them a moment, then glanced around the room, curiously, two or three times. He might have been looking for someone. Finally he wan- dered away aimlessly through the crowd. 8 CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE beth and Mr. Micawber; Cardinal Richelieu and a Pierrette; a Clown dancing attendance on Marie Antoinette. The Czar of Russia paid deep and devoted attention to a light-footed Geisha girl, while the Mikado and Folly, a jingling thing in bells and abbreviated skirts, romped together. The grotesque figure of the march was the Burglar. His revolver was thrust carelessly into a pocket and the dark lantern hung at his belt. He was pouring a stream of pleasing nonsense into the august ear of Lady Macbeth, nimbly seeking at the same time to evade the pompous train of the Dowager Empress. The grand march came to an end and the chattering throng broke up into little groups. Cardinal Richelieu strolled along with a Pier- rette on his arm. “Business good?” he inquired of the Burglar. “Expect it to be," was the reply. The Pierrette came and, standing on her tip- toes—silly, impractical sort of toes they were- made a moue at the Burglar. “Oooh!” she exclaimed. “You are perfectly horrid." "Thank you,” retorted the Burglar. CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE 9 He bowed gravely, and the Cardinal, with his companion, passed on. The Burglar stood gazing after them a moment, then glanced around the room, curiously, two or three times. He might have been looking for someone. Finally he wan- dered away aimlessly through the crowd. 8 CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE beth and Mr. Micawber; Cardinal Richelieu and a Pierrette; a Clown dancing attendance on Marie Antoinette. The Czar of Russia paid deep and devoted attention to a light-footed Geisha girl, while the Mikado and Folly, a jingling thing in bells and abbreviated skirts, romped together. The grotesque figure of the march was the Burglar. His revolver was thrust carelessly into a pocket and the dark lantern hung at his belt. He was pouring a stream of pleasing nonsense into the august ear of Lady Macbeth, nimbly seeking at the same time to evade the pompous train of the Dowager Empress. The grand march came to an end and the chattering throng broke up into little groups. Cardinal Richelieu strolled along with a Pier- rette on his arm. “Business good?” he inquired of the Burglar. “Expect it to be," was the reply. The Pierrette came and, standing on her tip- toes—silly, impractical sort of toes they were- made a moue at the Burglar. “Oooh!” she exclaimed. “You are perfectly horrid.” "Thank you,” retorted the Burglar. CHAPTER II Half an hour later the Burglar stood alone, thoughtfully watching the dancers as they whirled by. A light hand fell on his arm—he started a little—and in his ear sounded a voice soft with the tone of a caress. “Excellent, Dick, excellent!” The Burglar turned quickly to face a girl-a Girl of the Golden West, with deliciously rounded chin, slightly parted rose-red lips, and sparkling, eager eyes as blue as—as blue as well, they were blue eyes. An envious mask hid cheeks and brow, but above a sombrero was perched arrogantly on crisp, ruddy-gold hair, flaunting a tricoloured rib- bon. A revolver swung at her hip—the wrong hip—and a Bowie knife, singularly inoffensive in appearance, was thrust through her girdle. The Burglar looked curiously a moment, then smiled. 10 “An envious mask hid cheeks and brow" a CHAPTER II Half an hour later the Burglar stood alone, thoughtfully watching the dancers as they whirled by. A light hand fell on his arm-he started a little—and in his ear sounded a voice soft with the tone of a caress. “Excellent, Dick, excellent!” The Burglar turned quickly to face a girl—a Girl of the Golden West, with deliciously rounded chin, slightly parted rose-red lips, and sparkling, eager eyes as blue as—as blue as—well, they were blue eyes. An envious mask hid cheeks and brow, but above a sombrero was perched arrogantly on crisp, ruddy-gold hair, flaunting a tricoloured rib- bon. A revolver swung at her hip—the wrong hip—and a Bowie knife, singularly inoffensive in appearance, was thrust through her girdle. The Burglar looked curiously a moment, then smiled. 10 CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE 11 "How did you know me?” he asked. “By your chin,” she replied. “You can never hide yourself behind a mask that doesn't cover that." The Burglar touched his chin with one gloved hand. "I forgot that,” he remarked ruefully. “Hadn't you seen me?” “No." The Girl drew nearer and laid one hand lightly on his arm; her voice dropped mysteriously. “Is everything ready?” she asked. “Oh, yes,” he assured her quickly. His voice, too, was lowered cautiously. “Did you come in the auto ?” “ Yes.” * And the casket ? ”. For an instant the Burglar hesitated. “The casket ? ” he repeated. “Certainly, the casket. Did you get it all right?" The Burglar looked at her with a new, business- CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE 13 after her with admiration and some impalpable quality other than that in his eyes. He was turn- ing away toward the conservatory when he ran into the arms of an oversized man lumpily clad in the dress of a courtier. The lumpy individual stood back and sized him up. “Say, young fellow, that's a swell rig you got there,” he remarked. The Burglar glanced at him in polite astonish- ment—perhaps it was the tone of the remark. “Glad you like it," he said coldly, and passed on. As he waited in the conservatory the amusement died out of his eyes and his lips were drawn into a straight, sharp line. He had seen the lumpy in- dividual speak to another man, indicating gener- ally the direction of the conservato:y as he did so. After a moment the Girl returned in deep agita- tion. “We must go now—at once," she whispered ca. 14 CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE hurriedly. “They suspect us. I know it, I know it!” " I'm afraid so," said the Burglar grimly. “That's why that detective spoke to me." “Detective ? ” gasped the Girl. “Yes, a detective disguised as a gentleman.” “Oh, if they are watching us what shall we do ?” The Burglar glanced out, and seeing the man to whom the lumpy individual had spoken coming toward the conservatory, turned suddenly to the Girl. "Do you really want to go with me?” he asked. “Certainly,” she replied eagerly. “ You are making no mistake?” “No, Dick, no!” she said again. “But if we are caught— " “Do as I say and we won't be caught," declared the Burglar. His tone now was sharp, command- ing. “You go on alone toward the front door. Pass out as if to get a breath of fresh air. I'll CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE 15 T001 mo- follow in a minute. Watch for me. This detec- tive is getting too curious for comfort. Outside we'll take the first auto and run for it.” He thoughtfully whirled the barrel of his re- volver in his fingers as he stared out into the ball- room. The Girl clung to him helplessly a mo- ment; her hand trembled on his arm. "I'm frightened,” she confessed. “Oh, Dick, if " "Don't lose your nerve,” he commanded. “If you do we'll both be caught. Go on now, and do as I say. I'll come—but I may come in a hurry. Watch for me." For just a moment more the Girl clung to his arm. “Oh, Dick, you darling!” she whispered. Then, turning, she left him there. From the door of the conservatory the Burglar watched her splendid, lithe figure as she threaded her way through the crowd. Finally she passed beyond his view and he sauntered carelessly to- ward the door. Once he glanced back. The lumpy individual was following slowly. Then he saw a liveried servant approach the host and whisper to him excitedly. A : 1 16 CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE “This is my cue to move," the Burglar told himself grimly. Still watching, he saw the servant point directly at him. The host, with a sudden gesture, tore off his mask and the Burglar accelerated his pace. “Stop that man!" called the host. For one brief instant there was the dead silence which follows general astonishment—and the Burglar ran for the door. Several pairs of hands reached out from the crowd toward him. “There he goes, there ! ” exclaimed the Burg- lar excitedly. “That man ahead! I'll catch him!” The ruse opened the way and he went through. The Girl was waiting at the foot of the steps. “They're coming!” he panted as he dragged her along. “Climb in that last car on the end there!” Without a word the Girl ran to the auto and clambered into the front seat. Several men dashed out of the house. Wonderingly her eyes followed the vague figure of the Burglar as he sped along in the shadow of a wall. He paused beneath a window, picked up something and raced for the car. CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE 17 “Stop him!” came a cry. The Burglar Alung his burden, which fell at the Girl's feet with a clatter, and leaped. The auto swayed as he landed beside her. With a quick twist of the wheel he headed out. “Hurry, Dick, they're coming!” gasped the Girl. The motor beneath them whirred and panted and the car began to move. "Halt, or I'll fire,” came another cry. “Down ! ” commanded the Burglar. His hand fell on the Girl's shoulder heavily and he dragged her below the level of the seat. Then, bending low over the wheel, he gave the car half power. It leaped out into the road in the path of its own light, just as there came a pistol-shot from behind, followed instantly by another. The car sped on. CHAPTER III STUYVESANT RANDOLPH, millionaire, owner of Seven Oaks and host of the masked ball, was able to tell the police only what happened, and not the manner of its happening. Briefly, this was that a thief, cunningly disguised as a Burglar with dark lantern and revolver in hand, had surreptitiously attended the masked ball by entering at the front door and presenting an invitation card. And when Mr. Randolph got this far in his story even he couldn't keep his face straight. The sum total of everyone's knowledge, there- fore, was this: Soon after the grand march a servant entered the smoking-room and found the Burglar there alone, standing beside an open window, looking out. This smoking-room connected, by a corridor, with a small dining-room where the Randolph 18 CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE 19 gold plate was kept in ostentatious seclusion. As the servant entered the smoking-room the Burglar turned away from the window and went out into the ballroom. He did not carry a bundle; he did not appear to be excited. Fifteen or twenty minutes later the servant dis- covered that eleven plates of the gold service, valued roughly at $15,000, were missing. He in- formed Mr. Randolph. The information, natu- rally enough, did not elevate the host's enjoyment of the ball, and he did things hastily. Meanwhile—that is, between the time when the Burglar left the smoking-room and the time when he passed out the front door—the Burglar had talked earnestly with a masked Girl of the West. It was established that, when she left him in the conservatory, she went out the front door. There she was joined by the Burglar, and then came their sensational flight in the automobile—a 40 horse- power car that moved like the wind. The auto- mobile in which the Burglar had gone to Seven CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE 21 These things were easy to understand. But the identity of the pair was a different and more diffi- cult proposition, and there remained the task of yanking them out of obscurity. This fell to the lot of Detective Mallory, who represented the Su- preme Police Intelligence of the Metropolitan Dis- trict, happily combining a No. 11 shoe and a No. 6 hat. He was a cautious, suspicious, far-seeing man—as police detectives go. For instance, it was he who explained the method of the theft with a lucidity that was astounding. Detective Mallory and two or three of his satel. lites heard Mr. Randolph's story, then the state- ments of his two men who had attended the ball in costume, and the statements of the servants. After all this Mr. Mallory chewed his cigar and thought violently for several minutes. Mr. Ran- 22 CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE dolph looked on expectantly; he didn't want to miss anything. “As I understand it, Mr. Randolph,” said the Supreme Police Intelligence at last,“ each invita- C . as tion-card presented at the door by your guests bore the name of the person to whom it was issued ?" “Yes," replied Mr. Randolph. “Ah!” exclaimed the detective shrewdly. " Then we have a clue." : “Where are those cards, Curtis ? ” asked Mr. Randolph of the servant who had received them at the door. “I didn't know they were of further value, sir, and they were thrown away–into the furnace." Mr. Mallory was crestfallen. “Did you notice if the card presented at the door by the Burglar on the evening of the masked ball at Seven Oaks bore a name?” he asked. He liked to be explicit like that. “Yes, sir. I noticed it particularly because the gentleman was dressed so queerly.” CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE 23 “Do you remember the name?" “No, sir." “Would you remember it if you saw it or heard it again ?” The servant looked at Mr. Randolph help- lessly. “I don't think I would, sir," he answered. “And the Girl? Did you notice the card she gave you?” “I don't remember her at all, sir. Many of the ladies wore wraps when they came in, and her costume would not have been noticeable if she had on a wrap." The Supreme Intelligence was thoughtful for another few minutes. At last he turned to Mr. Randolph again. “You are certain there was only one man at that ball dressed as a Burglar?” he asked. “Yes, thank Heaven," replied Mr. Randolph fervently. "If there'd been another one they might have taken the piano.” The Supreme Intelligence frowned. “And this girl was dressed like a Western girl ?” he asked. “Yes. A sort of Spirit-of-the-West costume." 26 CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE the card or cards were stolen, who presented them at my door, and who got away with the plate." The Supreme Intelligence glared at him aggres- sively. Mr. Randolph's face was perfectly seri- ous. It was his gold plate, you know. “Yes, that's it," Detective Mallory assented. “Now we'll get after this thing right. Downey, you get that automobile the Burglar left at Seven Oaks and find its owner; also find the car the Burglar and the Girl escaped in Cunning- ham, you go to Seven Oaks and look over the premises. See particularly if the Girl left a wrap—she didn't wear one away from there- and follow that up. Blanton, you take a list of invited guests that Mr. Randolph will give you, check off those persons who are known to have been at the ball, and find out all about those who were not, and—follow that up." “That'll take weeks!” complained Blanton. The Supreme Intelligence turned on him fiercely. “Well?” he demanded. He continued to stare for a moment, and Blanton wrinkled up in the baleful glow of his superior's scorn. “And,” De- CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE 27 am tective Mallory added magnanimously, “I will do the rest." Thus the campaign was planned against the Burglar and the Girl. CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE 29 1SC vere His mind was well poised, his methods thorough, his style direct. Along with dozens of others Hatch was at work on the Randolph robbery, and knew what the others knew-no more. He had studied the case so closely that he was beginning to believe, strangely enough, that perhaps the police were right in their theory as to the identity of the Burg- lar and the Girl—that is, that they were profes- sional crooks. He could do a thing like that sometimes—bring his mind around to admit the possibility of somebody else being right. It was on Saturday afternoon—two days after the Randolph affair—that Hatch was sitting in Detective Mallory's private office at Police Head- quarters laboriously extracting from the Supreme Intelligence the precise things he had not found out about the robbery. The telephone-bell rang. Hatch got one end of the conversation—he couldn't help it. It was something like this: “Hello! ... Yes, Detective Mallory. .. Missing? ... What's her name? ... What? ... Oh, Dorothy! ... Yes ? ... Merritt? . .. Oh, Merryman! ... Well, what the deuce is it then? . . . SPELL 30 CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE IT! . . . M-e-r-e-d-i-t-h. Why didn't you say that at first? ... How long has she been gone? ... Huh? ... Thursday even- ing? ... What does she look like? ... Auburn hair. Red, you mean? ... Oh, ruddy! I'd like to know what's the difference." The detective had drawn up a pad of paper and was jotting down what Hatch imagined to be the description of a missing girl. Then: “Who is this talking ?” asked the detective. There was a little pause as he got the answer, and, having the answer, he whistled his astonish- ment, after which he glanced around quickly at the reporter, who was staring dreamily out a window. “No,” said the Supreme Intelligence over the 'phone. “ It wouldn't be wise to make it public. It isn't necessary at all. I understand. I'll order a search immediately. No. The newspapers will get nothing of it. Good-by." "A story?” inquired Hatch carelessly as the detective hung up the receiver. “Doesn't amount to anything," was the reply. CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE 31 “Yes, that's obvious,” remarked the reporter drily. “Well, whatever it is, it is not going to be made public,” retorted the Supreme Intelligence sharply. He never did like Hatch, anyway. “It's one of those things that don't do any good in the news- papers, so I'll not let this one get there." Hatch yawned to show that he had no further interest in the matter, and went out. But there was the germ of an idea in his head which would have startled Detective Mallory, and he paced up and down outside to develop it. A girl miss- ing! A red-headed girl missing! A red-headed girl missing since Thursday! Thursday was the night of the Randolph masked ball. The missing Girl of the West was red-headed! Mallory had seemed astonished when he learned the name of the person who reported this last case! There- fore the person who reported it was high up- perhaps ! Certainly high enough up to ask and receive the courtesy of police suppression—and the missing girl's name was Dorothy Meredith! Hatch stood still for a long time on the curb and figured it out. Suddenly he rushed off to a tele- phone and called up Stuyvesant Randolph at Seven 32 CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE Oaks. He asked the first question with trepida- tion: “Mr. Randolph, can you give me the address of Miss Dorothy Meredith ? " “Miss Meredith ? " came the answer. “Let's BURDAPAN see. I think she is stopping with the Morgan Greytons, at their suburban place." The reporter gulped down a shout. “Worked, by thunder!” he exclaimed to himself. Then, in a deadly, forced calm: “She attended the masked ball Thursday even- ing, didn't she ?” "Well, she was invited." “You didn't see her there?” “No. Who is this?” Then Hatch hung up the receiver. He was nearly choking with excitement, for, in addition to all those virtues which have been enumerated, he possessed, too, the quality of enthusiasm. It was no part of his purpose to tell anybody anything. Mallory didn't know, he was confident, anything CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE 33 girl having been a possible guest at the ball. And what Mallory didn't know now wouldn't be found out, all of which was a sad reflection upon the detective. In this frame of mind Hatch started for the suburban place of the Greytons. He found the house without difficulty. Morgan Greyton was an aged gentleman of wealth and exclusive ideas- and wasn't in. Hatch handed a card bearing only his name, to a maid, and after a few minutes Mrs. Greyton appeared. She was a motherly, sweet- faced old lady of seventy, with that grave, exquis- ite courtesy which makes mere man feel ashamed of himself. Hatch had that feeling when he looked at her and thought of what he was going to ask. "I came up direct from Police Headquarters," he explained diplomatically, “to learn any details you may be able to give us as to the disappearance of Miss Meredith.” “Oh, yes,” replied Mrs. Greyton. “My hus- 34 CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE band said he was going to ask the police to look into the matter. It is most mysterious—most mys- terious! We can't imagine where Dollie is, unless she has eloped. Do you know that idea keeps coming to me and won't go away?" She spoke as if it were a naughty child. “If you'll tell me something about Miss Mere- dith—who she is and all that?” Hatch suggested. “Oh, yes, to be sure," exclaimed Mrs. Greyton. “ Dollie is a distant cousin of my husband's sister's husband,” she explained precisely. “She lives in Baltimore, but is visiting us. She has been here for several weeks. She's a dear, sweet girl, but I'm afraid—afraid she has eloped.” The aged voice quivered a little, and Hatch was more ashamed of himself than ever. “Some time ago she met a man named Herbert Richard Herbert, I think, and " "Dick Herbert?” the reporter exclaimed sud- denly. “Do you know the young gentleman ?" in- quired the old lady eagerly. “Yes, it just happens that we were classmates in Harvard,” said the reporter. “ And is he a nice young man?” 36 CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE wn this dear, garrulous old woman would have hated him for it, if she could have known its purpose. But at last it came. “Do you happen to know," he asked, “if Miss Meredith attended the Randolph ball at Seven Oaks on Thursday evening?” “I dare say she received an invitation," was the reply. “She receives many invitations, but I don't think she went there. It was a costume affair, I suppose ?”. The reporter nodded. “Well, I hardly believe she went there then," Mrs. Greyton replied. “She has had no costume 103 DIAMANT 13 of any sort made. No, I am positive she has eloped with Mr. Herbert, but I should like to hear from her to satisfy myself and explain to her par- ents. We did not permit Mr. Herbert to come here, and it will be very hard to explain." Hatch heard the slight rustle of a skirt in the hall and glanced toward the door. No one ap- peared, and he turned back to Mrs. Greyton. CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE 37 “I don't suppose it possible that Miss Meredith has returned to Baltimore?” he asked. “Oh, no!” was the positive reply. “Her father there telegraphed to her to-day—I opened it-saying he would be here, probably to-night, and I—I haven't the heart to tell him the truth when he arrives. Somehow, I have been hoping that we would hear and—and " Then Hatch took his shame in his hand and excused himself. The maid attended him to the door. “How much is it worth to you to know if Miss Meredith went to the masked ball?” asked the maid cautiously. “Eavesdropping, eh ? " asked Hatch in disgust. The maid shrugged her shoulders. “How much is it worth ? ” she repeated. Hatch extended his hand. She took a ten-dollar bill which lay there and secreted it in some remote recess of her being. "Miss Meredith did go to the ball,” she said. “She went there to meet Mr. Herbert. They had arranged to elope from there and she had made all her plans. I was in her confidence and assisted her." CHAPTER V Hatch started back to the city with his brain full of seven-column heads. He thoughtfully lighted a cigar just before he stepped on the car. “No smoking," said the conductor. The reporter stared at him with dull eyes and then went in and sat down with the cigar in his mouth. “No smoking, I told you,” bawled the con- ductor. “ Certainly not,” exclaimed Hatch indignantly. He turned and glared at the only other occupant of the car, a little girl. She wasn't smoking. Then he looked at the conductor and awoke suddenly. "Miss Meredith is the girl,” Hatch was think- ing. “Mallory doesn't even dream it and never will. He won't send a man out there to do what I did. The Greytons are anxious to keep it quiet, and they won't say anything to anybody else until they know what really happened. I've got it bot- 36 CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE wr this dear, garrulous old woman would have hated him for it, if she could have known its purpose. But at last it came. “Do you happen to know," he asked, “if Miss Meredith attended the Randolph ball at Seven Oaks on Thursday evening?” “I dare say she received an invitation," was the reply. “She receives many invitations, but I don't think she went there. It was a costume affair, I suppose ?” The reporter nodded. “Well, I hardly believe she went there then," Mrs. Greyton replied. “She has had no costume MO RED VALER 50 of any sort made. No, I am positive she has eloped with Mr. Herbert, but I should like to hear from her to satisfy myself and explain to her par- ents. We did not permit Mr. Herbert to come here, and it will be very hard to explain.” Hatch heard the slight rustle of a skirt in the hall and glanced toward the door. No one ap- peared, and he turned back to Mrs. Greyton. CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE 37 “I don't suppose it possible that Miss Meredith has returned to Baltimore?” he asked. “Oh, no!” was the positive reply. “Her father there telegraphed to her to-day—I opened it-saying he would be here, probably to-night, and 1-I haven't the heart to tell him the truth when he arrives. Somehow, I have been hoping that we would hear and-and- ”. Then Hatch took his shame in his hand and excused himself. The maid attended him to the door. “How much is it worth to you to know if Miss Meredith went to the masked ball?” asked the maid cautiously. “Eavesdropping, eh? " asked Hatch in disgust. The maid shrugged her shoulders. “How much is it worth ? ” she repeated. Hatch extended his hand. She took a ten-dollar bill which lay there and secreted it in some remote recess of her being. “Miss Meredith did go to the ball," she said. “She went there to meet Mr. Herbert. They had arranged to elope from there and she had made all her plans. I was in her confidence and assisted her." CHAPTER V Hatch started back to the city with his brain full of seven-column heads. He thoughtfully lighted a cigar just before he stepped on the car. “No smoking," said the conductor. The reporter stared at him with dull eyes and then went in and sat down with the cigar in his mouth. "No smoking, I told you," bawled the con- ductor. “ Certainly not,” exclaimed Hatch indignantly. He turned and glared at the only other occupant of the car, a little girl. She wasn't smoking. Then he looked at the conductor and awoke suddenly. “Miss Meredith is the girl,” Hatch was think- ing. “Mallory doesn't even dream it and never will. He won't send a man out there to do what I did. The Greytons are anxious to keep it quiet, and they won't say anything to anybody else until they know what really happened. I've got it bot- 30 CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE IT! . . . M-e-r-e-d-i-t-h. Why didn't you say that at first? ... How long has she been gone? ... Huh? ... Thursday even- ing? . . . What does she look like? ... Auburn hair. Red, you mean? ... Oh, ruddy! I'd like to know what's the difference." The detective had drawn up a pad of paper and was jotting down what Hatch imagined to be the description of a missing girl. Then: “Who is this talking ?” asked the detective. There was a little pause as he got the answer, and, having the answer, he whistled his astonish- ment, after which he glanced around quickly at the reporter, who was staring dreamily out a window. “No," said the Supreme Intelligence over the 'phone. “It wouldn't be wise to make it public. It isn't necessary at all. I understand. I'll order a search immediately. No. The newspapers will get nothing of it. Good-by.” "A story?” inquired Hatch carelessly as the detective hung up the receiver. “Doesn't amount to anything," was the reply. 30 CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE IT! . . . M-e-r-e-d-i-t-h. Why didn't you say that at first? ... How long has she been gone? ... Huh? ... Thursday even- ing? ... What does she look like? ... Auburn hair. Red, you mean? ... Oh, ruddy! I'd like to know what's the difference." WC The detective had drawn up a pad of paper and was jotting down what Hatch imagined to be the description of a missing girl. Then: “Who is this talking ?” asked the detective. There was a little pause as he got the answer, and, having the answer, he whistled his astonish- ment, after which he glanced around quickly at the reporter, who was staring dreamily out a window. "No," said the Supreme Intelligence over the 'phone. “It wouldn't be wise to make it public. It isn't necessary at all. I understand. I'll order a search immediately. No. The newspapers will get nothing of it. Good-by.” "A story?” inquired Hatch carelessly as the detective hung up the receiver. “Doesn't amount to anything," was the reply. CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE 31 “Yes, that's obvious,” remarked the reporter drily. “Well, whatever it is, it is not going to be made public,” retorted the Supreme Intelligence sharply. He never did like Hatch, anyway. “It's one of those things that don't do any good in the news- papers, so I'll not let this one get there." Hatch yawned to show that he had no further interest in the matter, and went out. But there was the germ of an idea in his head which would have startled Detective Mallory, and he paced up and down outside to develop it. A girl miss- ing! A red-headed girl missing! A red-headed girl missing since Thursday! Thursday was the night of the Randolph masked ball. The missing Girl of the West was red-headed! Mallory had seemed astonished when he learned the name of the person who reported this last case! There- fore the person who reported it was high up- perhaps ! Certainly high enough up to ask and receive the courtesy of police suppression—and the missing girl's name was Dorothy Meredith! Hatch stood still for a long time on the curb and figured it out. Suddenly he rushed off to a tele- phone and called up Stuyvesant Randolph at Seven rece 30 CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE IT! ... M-e-r-e-d-i-t-h. Why didn't you say that at first? ..How long has she been gone? ... Huh? ... Thursday even- ing? . . . What does she look like? ... Auburn hair. Red, you mean? ... Oh, ruddy! I'd like to know what's the difference." The detective had drawn up a pad of paper and was jotting down what Hatch imagined to be the description of a missing girl. Then: “Who is this talking ?” asked the detective. There was a little pause as he got the answer, and, having the answer, he whistled his astonish- ment, after which he glanced around quickly at the reporter, who was staring dreamily out a window. “No," said the Supreme Intelligence over the 'phone. “It wouldn't be wise to make it public. It isn't necessary at all. I understand. I'll order a search immediately. No. The newspapers will get nothing of it. Good-by.” "A story?” inquired Hatch carelessly as the detective hung up the receiver. “Doesn't amount to anything," was the reply. CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE 31 ren “Yes, that's obvious,” remarked the reporter drily. “Well, whatever it is, it is not going to be made public,” retorted the Supreme Intelligence sharply. He never did like Hatch, anyway. “It's one of those things that don't do any good in the news- papers, so I'll not let this one get there." Hatch yawned to show that he had no further interest in the matter, and went out. But there was the germ of an idea in his head which would have startled Detective Mallory, and he paced up and down outside to develop it. A girl miss- ing! A red-headed girl missing! A red-headed girl missing since Thursday! Thursday was the night of the Randolph masked ball. The missing Girl of the West was red-headed! Mallory had seemed astonished when he learned the name of the person who reported this last case! There- fore the person who reported it was high up- perhaps ! Certainly high enough up to ask and receive the courtesy of police suppression and the missing girl's name was Dorothy Meredith! Hatch stood still for a long time on the curb and figured it out. Suddenly he rushed off to a tele- phone and called up Stuyvesant Randolph at Seven ne V 32 CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE Oaks. He asked the first question with trepida- tion: “Mr. Randolph, can you give me the address of Miss Dorothy Meredith ? " "Miss Meredith ? " came the answer. “Let's TIMBUATHUR see. I think she is stopping with the Morgan Greytons, at their suburban place.” The reporter gulped down a shout. "Worked, by thunder!” he exclaimed to himself. Then, in a deadly, forced calm: “She attended the masked ball Thursday even- ing, didn't she?" “Well, she was invited.” “You didn't see her there ? " “No. Who is this?”. Then Hatch hung up the receiver. He was nearly choking with excitement, for, in addition to all those virtues which have been enumerated, he possessed, too, the quality of enthusiasm. It was no part of his purpose to tell anybody anything. Mallory didn't know, he was confident, anything CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE 33 of the girl having been a possible guest at the ball. And what Mallory didn't know now wouldn't be found out, all of which was a sad reflection upon the detective. In this frame of mind Hatch started for the suburban place of the Greytons. He found the house without difficulty. Morgan Greyton was an aged gentleman of wealth and exclusive ideas- and wasn't in. Hatch handed a card bearing only his name, to a maid, and after a few minutes Mrs. Greyton appeared. She was a motherly, sweet- faced old lady of seventy, with that grave, exquis- ite courtesy which makes mere man feel ashamed of himself. Hatch had that feeling when he looked at her and thought of what he was going to ask. "I came up direct from Police Headquarters,” he explained diplomatically, “to learn any details you may be able to give us as to the disappearance of Miss Meredith.” “Oh, yes,” replied Mrs. Greyton. “My hus- 34 CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE band said he was going to ask the police to look into the matter. It is most mysterious—most mys- terious! We can't imagine where Dollie is, unless she has eloped. Do you know that idea keeps coming to me and won't go away?” She spoke as if it were a naughty child. “ If you'll tell me something about Miss Mere- dith—who she is and all that?” Hatch suggested. “Oh, yes, to be sure," exclaimed Mrs. Greyton. “Dollie is a distant cousin of my husband's sister's husband,” she explained precisely. “She lives in Baltimore, but is visiting us. She has been here for several weeks. She's a dear, sweet girl, but I'm afraid-afraid she has eloped." The aged voice quivered a little, and Hatch was more ashamed of himself than ever. “Some time ago she met a man named Herbert - Richard Herbert, I think, and " “Dick Herbert?" the reporter exclaimed sud- denly. “Do you know the young gentleman ?” in- quired the old lady eagerly. "Yes, it just happens that we were classmates in Harvard,” said the reporter. “And is he a nice young man ? " CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE 35 “A good, clean-cut, straightforward, decent man,” replied Hatch. He could speak with a cer- tain enthusiasm about Dick Herbert. “Go on, please," he urged. “Well, for some reason I don't know, Dollie's father objects to Mr. Herbert's attentions to her- as a matter of fact, Mr. Meredith has absolutely prohibited them—but she's a young, headstrong girl, and I fear that, although she had outwardly yielded to her father's wishes, she had clandes- tinely kept up a correspondence with Mr. Herbert. Last Thursday evening she went out unattended and since then we have not heard from her—not a word. We can only surmise—my husband and I —that they have eloped. I know her father and mother will be heart-broken, but I have always noticed that if a girl sets her heart on a man, she will get him. And perhaps it's just as well that she has eloped now since you assure me he is a nice young man.” Hatch was choking back a question that rose in his throat. He hated to ask it, because he felt 36 CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE W this dear, garrulous old woman would have hated him for it, if she could have known its purpose. But at last it came. “Do you happen to know," he asked, “if Miss Meredith attended the Randolph ball at Seven Oaks on Thursday evening?" “I dare say she received an invitation," was the reply. “She receives many invitations, but I don't think she went there. It was a costume affair, I suppose?” The reporter nodded. "Well, I hardly believe she went there then," Mrs. Greyton replied. “She has had no costume OVADA ATTIES MA of any sort made. No, I am positive she has eloped with Mr. Herbert, but I should like to hear from her to satisfy myself and explain to her par- ents. We did not permit Mr. Herbert to come here, and it will be very hard to explain.” Hatch heard the slight rustle of a skirt in the hall and glanced toward the door. No one ap- peared, and he turned back to Mrs. Greyton. CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE 37 “I don't suppose it possible that Miss Meredith has returned to Baltimore?” he asked. “Oh, no!” was the positive reply. “Her father there telegraphed to her to-day—I opened it-saying he would be here, probably to-night, and 1—I haven't the heart to tell him the truth when he arrives. Somehow, I have been hoping that we would hear and—and— " Then Hatch took his shame in his hand and excused himself. The maid attended him to the door. “How much is it worth to you to know if Miss Meredith went to the masked ball?” asked the maid cautiously. “Eavesdropping, eh? ” asked Hatch in disgust. The maid shrugged her shoulders. “How much is it worth ? " she repeated. Hatch extended his hand. She took a ten-dollar bill which lay there and secreted it in some remote recess of her being. “Miss Meredith did go to the ball," she said. “She went there to meet Mr. Herbert. They had arranged to elope from there and she had made all her plans. I was in her confidence and assisted her.” 38 CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE “What did she wear?” asked Hatch eagerly. “Her costume was that of a Western Girl," the maid responded. “She wore a sombrero, and car- ried a Bowie knife and revolver." Hatch nearly swallowed his palate. CHAPTER V Hatch started back to the city with his brain full of seven-column heads. He thoughtfully lighted a cigar just before he stepped on the car. “No smoking," said the conductor. The reporter stared at him with dull eyes and then went in and sat down with the cigar in his mouth. “No smoking, I told you,” bawled the con- ductor. “ Certainly not,” exclaimed Hatch indignantly. He turned and glared at the only other occupant of the car, a little girl. She wasn't smoking. Then he looked at the conductor and awoke suddenly. “Miss Meredith is the girl," Hatch was think- ing. “Mallory doesn't even dream it and never will. He won't send a man out there to do what I did. The Greytons are anxious to keep it quiet, and they won't say anything to anybody else until they know what really happened. I've got it bot- 40 CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE tled up, and don't know how to pull the cork. Now, the question is: What possible connection can there be between Dorothy Meredith and the as Burglar? Was Dick Herbert the Burglar? Why, of course not! Then—what?". Pondering all these things deeply, Hatch left · the car and ran up to see Dick Herbert. He was too self-absorbed to notice that the blinds of the house were drawn. He rang, and after a long time a man-servant answered the bell. “Mr. Herbert here?” Hatch asked. “Yes, sir, he's here," replied the servant, “but I don't know if he can see you. He is not very well, sir." “Not very well?” Hatch repeated. “No, it's not that he's sick, sir. He was hurt and— " “Who is it, Blair ? " came Herbert's voice from the top of the stair. “Mr. Hatch, sir.!' “ Come up, Hatch!” Dick called cordially. CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE 41 “ Glad to see you. I'm so lonesome here I don't know what to do with myself.” The reporter ran up the steps and into Dick's room. “Not that one," Dick smiled as Hatch reached for his right hand. “ It's out of business. Try this one- ” And he offered his left. “What's the matter?” Hatch inquired. “Little hurt, that's all,” said Dick. “Sit down. I got it knocked out the other night and I've been here in this big house alone with Blair ever since. The doctor told me not to venture out yet. It has been lonesome, too. All the folks are away, up in Nova Scotia, and took the other servants along. How are you, anyhow?" Hatch sat down and stared at Dick thought- fully. Herbert was a good-looking, forceful per- son of twenty-eight or thirty, and a corking right- guard. Now he seemed a little washed out, and there was a sort of pallor beneath the natural tan. He was a young man of family, unburdened by superlative wealth, but possessing in his own per- son the primary elements of success. He looked whát Hatch had said of him: a "good, clean-cut, straightforward, decent man.” : & 42 CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE “I came up here to say something to you in my professional capacity," the reporter began at last; “and frankly, I don't know how to say it." Dick straightened up in his chair with a startled expression on his face. He didn't speak, but there was something in his eyes which interested Hatch immensely. “Have you been reading the papers ? " the re- porter asked—“ that is, during the last couple of days?” “Yes." “Of course, then, you've seen the stories about the Randolph robbery?”. Dick smiled a little. “ Yes," he said. “ Clever, wasn't it?” " It was,” Hatch responded enthusiastically. “It was.” He was silent for a moment as he accepted and lighted a cigarette. “It doesn't hap- pen,” he went on, “that, by any possible chance, you know anything about it, does it?” CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE 43 “Not beyond what I saw in the papers. Why?” “I'll be frank and ask you some questions, Dick," Hatch resumed in a tone which betrayed his discomfort. “Remember I am here in my official capacity—that is, not as a friend of yours, but as a reporter. You need not answer the ques- tions if you don't want to." Dick arose with a little agitation in his manner and went over and stood beside the window. “What is it all about?” he demanded. “What are the questions?". “Do you know where Miss Dorothy Meredith is ? " Dick turned suddenly and glared at him with a MTUMIABE certain lowering of his eyebrows which Hatch knew from the football days. “What about her?” he asked. “Where is she?” Hatch insisted. “At home, so far as I know. Why?" 44 CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE “She is not there," the reporter informed him, “and the Greytons believe that you eloped with her." “Eloped with her?” Dick repeated. “She is not at home?" “No. She's been missing since Thursday even- ing—the evening of the Randolph affair. Mr. Greyton has asked the police to look for her, and they are doing so now, but quietly. It is not known to the newspapers—that is, to other news- papers. Your name has not been mentioned to the police. Now, isn't it a fact that you did intend to elope with her on Thursday evening ?". Dick strode feverishly across the room several times, then stopped in front of Hatch's chair. . “This isn't any silly joke?” he asked fiercely. “Isn't it a fact that you did intend to elope with her on Thursday evening ?” the reporter went on steadily. “I won't answer that question.” "Did you get an invitation to the Randolph ball ?" “ Yes." “Did you go?” Dick was staring straight down into his eyes. CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE 45 “I won't answer that, either,” he said after a pause. “Where were you on the evening of the masked ball?” “Nor will I answer that." When the newspaper instinct is fully aroused a reporter has no friends. Hatch had forgotten that he ever knew Dick Herbert. To him the young man was now merely a thing from which he might wring certain information for the benefit of the palpitating public. “Did the injury to your arm,” he went on after the approved manner of attorney for the prosecu- tion, "prevent you going to the ball ?" . “I won't answer that.” “What is the nature of the injury?” “Now, see here, Hatch, Dick burst out, and there was a dangerous undertone in his manner, “I shall not answer any more questions—particu- larly that last one—unless I know what this is all about. Several things happened on the evening of the masked ball that I can't go over with you or 46 CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE anyone else, but as for me having any personal knowledge of events at the masked ball-well, you and I are not talking of the same thing at all.” He paused, started to say something else, then changed his mind and was silent. “Was it a pistol shot?” Hatch went on calmly. Dick's lips were compressed to a thin line as he looked at the reporter, and he controlled himself only by an effort. “Where did you get that idea ?” he demanded. Hatch would have hesitated a long time before he told him where he got that idea; but vaguely it had some connection with the fact that at least two shots were fired at the Burglar and the Girl when they raced away from Seven Oaks. While the reporter was rummaging through his mind for an answer to the question there came a rap at the door and Blair appeared with a card. He handed it to Dick, who glanced at it, looked a little surprised, then nodded. Blair disappeared. After a moment there were footsteps on the stairs and Stuyvesant Randolph entered. ) 13 LombaTIME: CHAPTER VI Dick arose and offered his left hand to Mr. Ran. dolph, who calmly ignored it, turning his gaze in- stead upon the reporter. “I had hoped to find you alone,” he said frostily. Hatch made as if to rise. “Sit still, Hatch,” Dick commanded. “Mr. Hatch is a friend of mine, Mr. Randolph. I don't know what you want to say, but whatever it is, you may say it freely before him.” Hatch knew that humour in Dick. It always preceded the psychological moment when he wanted to climb down someone's throat and open an umbrella. The tone was calm, the words clearly enunciated, and the face was white-whiter than it had been before. "I shouldn't like to " Mr. Randolph began. “You may say what you want to before Mr. Hatch, or not at all, as you please," Dick went on evenly. an 48 CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE Mr. Randolph cleared his throat twice and waved his hands with an expression of resignation. “ Very well," he replied. “I have come to re- quest the return of my gold plate." Hatch leaned forward in his chair, gripping its arms fiercely. This was a question bearing broadly - on a subject that he wanted to mention, but he didn't know how. Mr. Randolph apparently found it easy enough. “What gold plate ?" asked Dick steadily. “The eleven pieces that you, in the garb of a Burglar, took from my house last Thursday even- ing," said Mr. Randolph. He was quite calm. Dick took a sudden step forward, then straight- ened up with flushed face. His left hand closed with a snap and the nails bit into the flesh; the fingers of the helpless right hand worked nerv- ously. In a minute now Hatch could see him climbing all over Mr. Randolph. But again Dick gained control of himself. It was a sort of recognition of the fact that Mr. Ran- CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE 49 dolph was fifty years old; Hatch knew it; Mr. Randolph's knowledge on the subject didn't ap- pear. Suddenly Dick laughed. “Sit down, Mr. Randolph, and tell me about it,” he suggested. " It isn't necessary to go into details,” continued Mr. Randolph, still standing. “I had not wanted to go this far in the presence of a third person, but you forced me to do it. Now, will you or will you not return the plate ?" “Would you mind telling me just what makes you think I got it?" Dick insisted. “It is as simple as it is conclusive,” said Mr. Randolph. “You received an invitation to the masked ball. You went there in your Burglar garb and handed your invitation-card to my serv- ant. He noticed you particularly and read your name on the card. He remembered that name perfectly. I was compelled to tell the story as I knew it to Detective Mallory. I did not mention 50 CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE your name; my servant remembered it, had given it to me in fact, but I forbade him to repeat it to the police. He told them something about having burned the invitation-cards." "Oh, wouldn't that please Mallory?" Hatch thought. "I have not even intimated to the police that I have the least idea of your identity,” Mr. Ran- dolph went on, still standing. “I had believed that it was some prank of yours and that the plate would be returned in due time. Certainly I could not account for you taking it in any other circum- stances. My reticence, it is needless to say, was in consideration of your name and family. But now I want the plate. If it was a prank to carry out the rôle of the Burglar, it is time for it to end. If the fact that the matter is now in the hands of the police has frightened you into the seeming necessity of keeping the plate for the present to protect yourself, you may dismiss that. When the plate is returned to me I shall see that the police drop the matter." Dick had listened with absorbed interest. Hatch looked at him from time to time and saw only attention—not anger. CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE 51 "And the Girl?” asked Dick at last. “Does it happen that you have as cleverly traced her?”. "No," Mr. Randolph replied frankly. “I haven't the faintest idea who she is. I suppose no one knows that but you. I have no interest further than to recover the plate. I may say that I called here yesterday, Friday, and asked to see you, but was informed that you had been hurt, so I went away to give you opportunity to recover somewhat." “Thanks,” said Dick drily. “Awfully con- siderate.” There was a long silence. Hatch was listening with all the multitudinous ears of a good reporter. “Now the plate,” Mr. Randolph suggested again impatiently. “Do you deny that you got it?" “I do,” replied Dick firmly. "I was afraid you would, and, believe me, Mr. Herbert, such a course is a mistaken one,” said Mr. Randolph. “I will give you twenty-four 52 CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE hours to change your mind. If, at the end of that time, you see fit to return the plate, I shall drop the matter and use my influence to have the police do so. If the plate is not returned I shall be com- pelled to turn over all the facts to the police with your name." “Is that all?” Dick demanded suddenly. “Yes, I believe so." “Then get out of here before 1— ” Dick started forward, then dropped back into a chair. Mr. Randolph drew on his gloves and went out, closing the door behind him. For a long time Dick sat there, seemingly ob- livious of Hatch's presence, supporting his head with his left hand, while the right hung down loosely beside him. Hatch was inclined to be sympathetic, for, strange as it may seem, some re- porters have even the human quality of sympathy —although there are persons who will not be- lieve it. “Is there anything I can do ? " Hatch asked at last. “Anything you want to say ?” "Nothing," Dick responded wearily. “Noth- ing. You may think what you like. There are, as I said, several things of which I cannot speak, even CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE 53 if it comes to a question—a question of having to face the charge of theft in open court. I simply can't say anything." “But-but- ” stammered the reporter. "Absolutely not another word,” said Dick firmly. G CHAPTER VII Those satellites of the Supreme Police Intelli- gence of the Metropolitan District who had been taking the Randolph mystery to pieces to see what made it tick, lined up in front of Detective Mal- lory, in his private office, at police headquarters, early Saturday evening. They did not seem happy. The Supreme Intelligence placed his feet on the desk and glowered; that was a part of the job. “Well, Downey ?” he asked. "I went out to Seven Oaks and got the automo- bile the Burglar left, as you instructed,” reported Downey. “Then I started out to find its owner, or someone who knew it. It didn't have a num- ber on it, so the job wasn't easy, but I found the owner all right, all right.” Detective Mallory permitted himself to look in- terested. “He lives at Merton, four miles from Seven 54 56 CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE OVO arrived to open up. The number had been re- moved.” Detective Mallory examined the cushion which Downey handed to him. Several dark brown stains told the story—one of the occupants of the car had been wounded. “Well, that's something," commented the Su- preme Intelligence. “We know now that when Cunningham fired at least one of the persons in the car was hit, and we may make our search ac- cordingly. The Burglar and the Girl probably left the car where it was found during the preced- ing night.” " It seems so,” said Downey. “I shouldn't think they would have dared to keep it long. Autos of that size and power are too easily traced. CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE 57 се I asked Mr. Sharp to run down and identify the car and he did so. The stains were new.” The Supreme Intelligence digested that in silence while his satellites studied his face, seeking some inkling of the convolutions of that marvellous mind. “Very good, Downey,” said Detective Mallory at last. “Now Cunningham?". “Nothing,” said Cunningham in shame and sorrow. “Nothing." “ Didn't you find anything at all about the prem- ises?" “Nothing," repeated Cunningham. “The Girl left no wrap at Seven Oaks. None of the servants remembers having seen her in the room where the wraps were checked. I searched all around the place and found a dent in the ground under the smoking-room window, where the gold plate had been thrown, and there were what seemed to be footprints in the grass, but it was all nothing.” 58 CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE - “We can't arrest a dent and footprints," said the Supreme Intelligence cuttingly. The satellites laughed sadly. It was part of the deference they owed to the Supreme Intelli- gence. “And you, Blanton ?" asked Mr. Mallory.. “What did you do with the list of invited guests?” “I haven't got a good start yet,” responded Blanton hopelessly. “There are three hundred and sixty names on the list. I have been able to see possibly thirty. It's worse than making a city directory. I won't be through for a month. Ran- dolph and his wife checked off a large number of these whom they knew were there. The others I am looking up as rapidly as I can.” The detectives sat moodily thoughtful for un- counted minutes. Finally Detective Mallory broke the silence. “There seems to be no question but that any clew that might have come from either of the auto- mobiles is disposed of unless it is the fact that we “ « The stains were new'" CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE 59 now know one of the thieves was wounded. I readily see how the theft could have been com- mitted by a man as bold as this fellow. Now we must concentrate all our efforts to running down the invited guests and learning just where they were that evening. All of you will have to get on this job and hustle it. We know that the Burglar did present an invitation-card with a name on it.” The detectives went their respective ways and we MILF then Detective Mallory deigned to receive repre- sentatives of the press, among them Hutchinson Hatch. Hatch was worried. He knew a whole lot of things, but they didn't do him any good. He felt that he could print nothing as it stood, yet he would not tell the police, because that would give it to everyone else, and he had a picture of how the Supreme Intelligence would tangle it if he got hold of it. “Well, boys,” said Detective Mallory smilingly, when the press filed in, “there's nothing to say. Frankly, I will tell you that we have not been able CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE 59 now know one of the thieves was wounded. I readily see how the theft could have been com- mitted by a man as bold as this fellow. Now we must concentrate all our efforts to running down the invited guests and learning just where they were that evening. All of you will have to get on this job and hustle it. We know that the Burglar did present an invitation-card with a name on it." The detectives went their respective ways and TUBE then Detective Mallory deigned to receive repre- sentatives of the press, among them Hutchinson Hatch. Hatch was worried. He knew a whole lot of things, but they didn't do him any good. He felt that he could print nothing as it stood, yet he would not tell the police, because that would give it to everyone else, and he had a picture of how the Supreme Intelligence would tangle it if he got hold of it. "Well, boys,” said Detective Mallory smilingly, when the press filed in, " there's nothing to say. Frankly, I will tell you that we have not been able 60 CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE to learn anything—at least anything that can be given out. You know, of course, about the finding of the two automobiles that figured in the case, and the blood-stained cushion?" The press nodded collectively. "Well, that's all there is yet. My men are still at work, but I'm a little afraid the gold plate will never be found. It has probably been melted up. The cleverness of the thieves you can judge for yourself by the manner in which they handled the automobiles." And yet Hatch was not surprised when, late that night, Police Headquarters made known the latest sensation. This was a bulletin, based on a telephone message from Stuyvesant Randolph to the effect that the gold plate had been returned by express to Seven Oaks. This mystified the po- lice beyond description; but official mystification was as nothing to Hatch's state of mind. He knew of the scene in Dick Herbert's room and remembered Mr. Randolph's threat. “Then Dick did have the plate," he told him- self. CHAPTER VIII WHOLE flocks of detectives, reporters, and news- paper artists appeared at Seven Oaks early next morning. It had been too late to press an investi- gation the night before. The newspapers had only time telephonically to confirm the return of the plate. Now the investigators unanimously voiced one sentiment: “ Show us!" Hatch arrived in the party headed by Detective Mallory, with Downey and Cunningham trailing. Blanton was off somewhere with his little list, pre- sumably still at it. Mr. Randolph had not come down to breakfast when the investigators arrived, but had given his servant permission to exhibit the plate, the wrappings in which it had come, and the string wherewith it had been tied. The plate arrived in a heavy paper-board box, covered twice over with a plain piece of stiff brown 62 CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE paper, which had no markings save the address and the “paid ” stamp of the express company. Detective Mallory devoted himself first to the ad- dress. It was. MR. STUYVESANT RANDOLPH, “ Seven Oaks,” via Merton. In the upper left-hand corner were scribbled the words: From John Smith, State Street, Watertown. Detectives Mallory, Downey, and Cunningham studied the handwriting on the paper minutely. “It's a man's," said Detective Downey. “It's a woman's," said Detective Cunningham. “It's a child's,” said Detective Mallory. “Whatever it is, it is disguised," said Hatch. He was inclined to agree with Detective Cun- ningham that it was a woman's purposely al- tered, and in that event—Great Cæsar! There came that flock of seven-column heads again! And he couldn't open the bottle! CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE 63 w The simple story of the arrival of the gold plate at Seven Oaks was told thrillingly by the servant. " It was eight o'clock last night,” he said. “I was standing in the hall here. Mr. and Mrs. Ran- dolph were still at the dinner table. They dined alone. Suddenly I heard the sound of waggon- wheels on the granolithic road in front of the house. I listened intently. Yes, it was waggon- wheels." The detectives exchanged significant glances. "I heard the waggon stop," the servant went on SLC in an awed tone. "Still I listened. Then came the sound of footsteps on the walk and then on the steps. I walked slowly along the hall toward the front door. As I did so the bell rang." “Yes, ting-a-ling-a-ling, we know. Go on,” Hatch interrupted impatiently. "I opened the door," the servant continued. “A man stood there with a package. He was a burly fellow. 'Mr. Randolph live here?' he asked gruffly. 'Yes,' I said. "Here's a package CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE 65 “Instead of being at an end this case has just begun,” the detective declared emphatically. Mr. Randolph seemed to have no further in- terest in the matter. He started out, then turned back at the door, and made a slight motion to Hatch which the reporter readily understood. As a result Hatch and Mr. Randolph were closeted together in a small room across the hall a few min- utes later. “May I ask your occupation, Mr. Hatch?” in- quired Mr. Randolph. “I'm a reporter," was the reply. “A reporter ? " Mr. Randolph seemed sur- prised. “Of course, when I saw you in Mr. Her- bert's rooms," he went on after a little pause, “I met you only as his friend. You saw what hap- pened there. Now, may I ask you what you in- tend to publish about this affair?” Hatch considered the question a moment. There seemed to be no objection to telling. “I can't publish anything until I know every- thing, or until the police act,” he confessed frankly. “I had been talking to Dick Herbert in a general way about this case when you arrived yesterday. I knew several things, or thought I did, that the 66 CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE police do not even suspect. But, of course, I can print only just what the police know and say." “I'm glad of that—very glad of it," said Mr. Randolph. “It seems to have been a freak of some sort on Mr. Herbert's part, and, candidly, I can't understand it. Of course he returned the plate, as I knew he would.” “Do you really believe he is the man who came here as the Burglar?" asked Hatch curiously. "I should not have done what you saw me do if I had not been absolutely certain," Mr. Ran- dolph explained. “One of the things, particu- larly, that was called to my attention—I don't know that you know of it—is the fact that the Burglar had a cleft in his chin. You know, of course, that Mr. Herbert has such a cleft. Then there is the invitation-card with his name. Every- thing together makes it conclusive." Mr. Randolph and the reporter shook hands. Three hours later the press and police had uncov. ered the Watertown end of the mystery as to how CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE 67 irs. the express package had been sent. It was ex- plained by the driver of an express waggon there and absorbed by greedily listening 'ears. "The boss told me to call at No. 410 State Street and get a bundle," the driver explained. “I think somebody telephoned to him to send the waggon. I went up there yesterday morning. It's a small house, back a couple of hundred feet from the street, and has a stone fence around it. I opened the gate, went in, and rang the bell. "No one answered the first ring, and I rang again. Still nobody answered and I tried the door. It was locked. I walked around the house, think- ing there might be somebody in the back, but it was all locked up. I figured as how the folks that had telephoned for me wasn't in, and started out to my waggon, intending to stop by later. “ Just as I got to the gate, going out, I saw a package set down inside, hidden from the street behind the stone fence, with a dollar bill on it. I just naturally looked at it. It was the package directed to Mr. Randolph. I reasoned as how the folks who 'phoned had to go out and left the package, so I took it along. I made out a receipt to John Smith, the name that was in the corner, 68 CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE and pinned it to a post, took the package and the money and went along. That's all." “You don't know if the package was there when you went in?” he was asked. “I dunno. I didn't look. I couldn't help but see it when I came out, so I took it." Then the investigators sought out “ the boss." “Did the person who 'phoned give you a name?” inquired Detective Mallory. “No, I didn't ask for one." “Was it a man or a woman talking?" “A man,” was the unhesitating reply. “He had a deep, heavy voice.” The investigators trailed away, dismally de- spondent, toward No. 410 State Street. It was unoccupied; inquiry showed that it had been un- occupied for months. The Supreme Intelligence picked the lock and the investigators walked in, craning their necks. They expected, at the least, to find a thieves' rendezvous. There was nothing but dirt, and dust, and grime. Then the investi- gators returned to the city. They had found only CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE 69 that the gold plate had been returned, and they knew that when they started. Hatch went home and sat down with his head in his hands to add up all he didn't know about the affair. It was surprising how much there was of it. “Dick Herbert either did or didn't go to the ball," he soliloquised. “Something happened to him that evening. He either did or didn't steal the gold plate, and every circumstance indicates that he did—which, of course, he didn't. Dorothy Meredith either was or was not at the ball. The maid's statement shows that she was, yet no one there recognised her—which indicates that she wasn't. She either did or didn't run away with somebody in an automobile. Anyhow, something happened to her, because she's missing. The gold plate is stolen, and the gold plate is back. I know that, thank Heaven! And now, knowing more about this affair than any other single individual, I don't know anything." PART II THE GIRL AND THE PLATE CHAPTER I Low-BENT over the steering-wheel, the Burglar sent the automobile scuttling breathlessly along the flat road away from Seven Oaks. At the first shot he crouched down in the seat, dragging the Girl with him; at the second, he winced a little and clenched his teeth tightly. The car's headlights cut a dazzling pathway through the shadows, and trees flitted by as a solid wall. The shouts of pursuers were left behind, and still the Girl clung to his arm. "Don't do that,” he commanded abruptly. “You'll make me smash into something." “Why, Dick, they shot at us !” she protested indignantly. The Burglar glanced at her, and, when he turned his eyes to the smooth road again, there was a flicker of a smile about the set lips. * Yes, I had some such impression myself,” he acquiesced grimly. go CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE 71 “Why, they might have killed us!” the Girl went on. "It is just barely possible that they had some such absurd idea when they shot," replied the Burglar. “Guess you never got caught in a pickle like this before?” "I certainly never did !” replied the Girl em- phatically. The whir and grind of their car drowned other sounds—sounds from behind—but from time to time the Burglar looked back, and from time to time he let out a new notch in the speed-regulator. Already the pace was terrific, and the Girl bounced up and down beside him at each trivial irregularity in the road, while she clung frantically to the seat. "Is it necessary to go so awfully fast?" she gasped at last. The wind was beating on her face, her mask blew this way and that; the beribboned sombrero clung frantically to a fast-failing strand of ruddy 72 CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE hair. She clutched at the hat and saved it, but her hair tumbled down about her shoulders, a mass of gold, and floated out behind. “Oh,” she chattered, “I can't keep my hat on!” The Burglar took another quick look behind, then his foot went out against the speed-regulator and the car fairly leaped with suddenly increased impetus. The regulator was in the last notch now, and the car was one that had raced at Ormonde Beach. “Oh, dear!” exclaimed the Girl again. “ Can't you go a little slower?" “Look behind," directed the Burglar tersely. She glanced back and gave a little cry. Two giant eyes stared at her from a few hundred yards away as another car swooped along in pursuit, and behind this ominously glittering pair was still another. wwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww “They're chasing us, aren't they?" “They are,” replied the Burglar grimly, “but CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE 73 if these tires hold, they haven't got a chance. A breakdown would— ” He didn't finish the sen- tence. There was a sinister note in his voice, but the Girl was still looking back and did not heed it. To her excited imagination it seemed that the giant eyes behind were creeping up, and again she clutched the Burglar's arm. "Don't do that, I say,” he commanded again. “But, Dick, they mustn't catch us—they mustn't!” “They won't.” “But if they should— ”. "They won't,” he repeated. “ It would be perfectly awful!” “Worse than that.” For a time the Girl silently watched him bend- ing over the wheel, and a singular feeling of secur- ity came to her. Then the car swept around a bend in the road, careening perilously, and the glaring eyes were lost. She breathed more freely. “I never knew you handled an auto so well,” she said admiringly. "I do lots of things people don't know I do,” he replied. “Are those lights still there?” “No, thank goodness!”. 74 CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE The Burglar touched a lever with his left hand and the whir of the machine became less pro- nounced. After a moment it began to slow down. The Girl noticed it and looked at him with new apprehension. “Oh, we're stopping!” she exclaimed. “I know it." They ran on for a few hundred feet; then the Burglar set the brake and, after a deal of jolting, the car stopped. He leaped out and ran around behind. As the Girl watched him uneasily there came a sudden crash and the auto trembled a little. “What is it?" she asked quickly. “I smashed that tail lamp,” he answered. "They can see it, and it's too easy for them to follow.” He stamped on the shattered fragments in the road, then came around to the side to climb in again, extending his left hand to the Girl. “Quick, give me your hand,” he requested. CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE 75 She did so wonderingly and he pulled himself into the seat beside her with a perceptible effort. The car shivered, then started on again, slowly at first, but gathering speed each moment. The Girl was staring at her companion curiously, anxiously. “Are you hurt?" she asked at last. He did not answer at the moment, not until the car had regained its former speed and was hurtling headlong through the night. “My right arm's out of business,” he explained briefly, then: “I got that second bullet in the shoulder." “Oh, Dick, Dick,” she exclaimed, “and you hadn't said anything about it! You need assist- ance!” A sudden rush of sympathy caused her to lay her hands again on his left arm. He shook them off roughly with something like anger in his manner. “Don't do that!” he commanded for the third time. “You'll make me smash hell out of this car.” Startled by the violence of his tone, she recoiled dumbly, and the car swept on. As before, the 76 CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE Burglar looked back from time to time, but the lights did not reappear. For a long time the Girl was silent and finally he glanced at her. “I beg your pardon," he said humbly. “I didn't mean to speak so sharply, but—but it's true.” “It's really of no consequence,” she replied coldly. "I am sorry—very sorry.” “Thank you,” he replied. "Perhaps it might be as well for you to stop the car and let me out,” she went on after a mo- ment. The Burglar either didn't hear or wouldn't heed. The dim lights of a small village rose up before them, then faded away again; a dog barked lonesomely beside the road. The streaming lights of their car revealed a tangle of crossroads just ahead, offering a definite method of shaking off pursuit. Their car swerved widely, and the Burglar's attention was centred on the road ahead. CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE 77 “Does your arm pain you?” asked the Girl at last timidly. “No," he replied shortly. “It's a sort of numbness. I'm afraid I'm losing blood, though.” “Hadn't we better go back to the village and see a doctor?” “Not this evening,” he responded promptly in a tone which she did not understand. “I'll stop somewhere soon and bind it up." At last, when the village was well behind, the car came to a dark little road which wandered off aimlessly through a wood, and the Burglar slowed down to turn into it. Once in the shelter of the overhanging branches they proceeded slowly for a hundred yards or more, finally coming to a standstill. “We must do it here,” he declared. He leaped from the car, stumbled and fell. In an instant the Girl was beside him. The reflected light from the auto showed her dimly that he was trying to rise, showed her the pallor of his face where the chin below the mask was visible. “I'm afraid it's pretty bad,” he said weakly. Then he fainted. The Girl, stooping, raised his head to her lap 78 CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE and pressed her lips to his feverishly, time after time. “ Dick, Dick!” she sobbed, and tears fell upon the Burglar's sinister mask. CHAPTER II rel WHEN the Burglar awoke to consciousness he was as near heaven as any mere man ever dares expect to be. He was comfortable-quite comfortable- wrapped in a delicious, languorous lassitude which forbade him opening his eyes to realisation. A woman's hand lay on his forehead, caressingly, and dimly he knew that another hand cuddled cosily in one of his own. He lay still, trying to remember, before he opened his eyes. Someone beside him breathed softly, and he listened, as if to music. Gradually the need of action—just what action and to what purpose did not occur to him-im- pressed itself on his mind. He raised the disen gaged hand to his face and touched the mask, which had been pushed back on his forehead. Then he recalled the ball, the shot, the chase, the hiding in the woods. He opened his eyes with a start. Utter darkness lay about him—for a moment he was not certain whether it was the darkness of blindness or of night. 79 80 CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE “ Dick, are you awake?” asked the Girl softly. He knew the voice and was content. “Yes,” he answered languidly. He closed his eyes again and some strange, subtle perfume seemed to envelop him. He waited. Warm lips were pressed to his own, thrill- ing him strangely, and the Girl rested a soft cheek against his. “We have been very foolish, Dick,” she said, sweetly chiding, after a moment. “ It was all my fault for letting you expose yourself to danger, but I didn't dream of such a thing as this happening. I shall never forgive myself, because “But— " he began protestingly. “Not another word about it now," she hurried on. “We must go very soon. How do you feel ?” "I'm all right, or will be in a minute," he re- sponded, and he made as if to rise. “Where is the car?" “Right here. I extinguished the lights and CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE 81 managed to stop the engine for fear those horrid people who were after us might notice.” “Good girl!” “When you jumped out and fainted I jumped out, too. I'm afraid I was not very clever, but I managed to bind your arm. I took my handker- chief and pressed it against the wound after rip- ping your coat, then I bound it there. It stopped the flow of blood, but, Dick, dear, you must have medical attention just as soon as possible.” The Burglar moved his shoulder a little and winced. “Just as soon as I did that,” the Girl went on, “I made you comfortable here on a cushion from the car." “Good girl!” he said again. “Then I sat down to wait until you got better. I had no stimulant or anything, and I didn't dare to leave you, so—so I just waited," she ended with a weary little sigh. “ How long was I knocked out?” he queried. CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE 83. lon “Goodness!” exclaimed the Girl. “It's heavy enough. What's in it?" “What's in it?” repeated the Burglar, and he chuckled. “A fortune, nearly. It's worth being punctured for. Let me see." In the darkness he took the bag from her hands and fumbled with it a moment. She heard the metallic sound again and then several heavy ob- jects were poured out on the ground. “A good fourteen pounds of pure gold,” com- mented the Burglar. “By George, I haven't but one match, but we'll see what it's like.” The match was struck, sputtered for a moment, then flamed up, and the Girl, standing, looked down upon the Burglar on his knees beside a heap of gold plate. She stared at the glittering mass as if fascinated, and her eyes opened wide. “Why, Dick, what is that?” she asked. “It's Randolph's plate," responded the Burglar complacently. “I don't know how much it's worth, but it must be several thousands, on dead weight." “What are you doing with it?" “What am I doing with it?” repeated the Burglar. He was about to look up when the match 84 CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE burned his finger and he dropped it. “That's a silly question." “But how came it in your possession ? " the Girl insisted. “I acquired it by the simple act of—of drop- ping it into a bag and bringing it along. That and you in the same evening— " He stretched out a hand toward her, but she was not there. He chuckled a little as he turned and picked up eleven plates, one by one, and replaced them in the bag. “Nine—ten-eleven," he counted. “What luck did you have ? " “Dick Herbert, explain to me, please, what you are doing with that gold plate?” There was an imperative command in the voice. The Burglar paused and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Oh, I'm taking it to have it fixed!” he re- sponded lightly. " Fixed ? Taking it this way at this time of the night? " • • It must be several thousands, on dead weight' » CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE 85 “Sure," and he laughed pleasantly. “You mean you—you—you stole it?” The words came with an effort. “Well, I'd hardly call it that,” remarked the Burglar. “That's a harsh word. Still, it's in my possession; it wasn't given to me, and I didn't buy it. You may draw your own conclusions." The bag lay beside him and his left hand caressed it idly, lovingly. For a long time there was silence. “What luck did you have ?” he asked again. There was a startled gasp, a gurgle and accus- ing indignation in the Girl's low, tense voice. “You—you stole it!”. “Well, if you prefer it that way-yes." · The Burglar was staring steadily into the dark- ness toward that point whence came the voice, but the night was so dense that not a trace of the Girl was visible. He laughed again. " It seems to me it was lucky I decided to take it at just this time and in these circumstances," he went on tauntingly—“lucky for you, I mean. If I hadn't been there you would have been caught.” Again came the startled gasp. 86 CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE “What's the matter?” demanded the Burglar sharply, after another silence. “Why don't you say something?" He was still peering unseeingly into the dark- ness. The bag of gold plate moved slightly under his hand. He opened his fingers to close them more tightly. It was a mistake. The bag was drawn away; his hand grasped—air. “Stop that game now!” he commanded an- grily. “Where are you?" . He struggled to his feet. His answer was the crackling of a twig to his right. He started in that direction and brought up with a bump against the automobile. He turned, still groping blindly, and embraced a tree with undignified fervour. To his left he heard another slight noise and ran that way. Again he struck an obstacle. Then he be- gan to say things, expressive things, burning things from the depths of an impassioned soul. The treasure had gone-disappeared into the shadows. CHAPTER III EXTRAVAGANTLY brilliant the sun popped up out of the east-not an unusual occurrence—and stared unblinkingly down upon a country road. There were the usual twittering birds and dew- spangled trees and nodding wild-flowers; also a dust that was shoe-top deep. The dawny air stirred lazily and rustling leaves sent long, sinuous shadows scampering back and forth. Looking upon it all without enthusiasm or poetic exaltation was a Girl—a pretty Girl—a very pretty Girl. She sat on a stone beside the yellow roadway, a picture of weariness. A rough burlap sack, laden heavily, yet economically as to space, wallowed in the dust beside her. Her hair was tawny gold, and rebellious strands drooped list- lessly about her face. A beribboned sombrero lay in her lap, supplementing a certain air of dilapi- dated bravado, due in part to a short skirt, heavy gloves and boots, a belt with a knife and revolver. A robin, perched impertinently on a stump across the road, examined her at his leisure. She 88 CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE 89 stared back at Signor Redbreast, and for this recognition he warbled a little song. “I've a good mind to cry!” exclaimed the Girl suddenly. Shamed and startled, the robin flew away. A mistiness came into the Girl's blue eyes and lin- gered there a moment, then her white teeth closed tightly and the glimmer of outraged emotion passed. “Oh,” she sighed again, “I'm so tired and hungry and I just know I'll never get anywhere at all!” But despite the expressed conviction she arose and straightened up as if to resume her journey, turning to stare down at the bag. It was an un- sightly symbol of blasted hopes, man's perfidy, crushed aspirations and Heaven only knows what besides. " I've a good mind to leave you right there," she remarked to the bag spitefully. “Perhaps I might hide it.” She considered the question. “No, that wouldn't do. I must take it with me CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE 91 1 Now, what shall I say if they ask questions ? What am I? They wouldn't believe me if I told them really. Short skirt, boots and gloves: I know! I'm a bicyclist. My wheel broke down, and— ” Whereupon she gingerly removed the revolver from her belt and Aung it into the underbrush- not at all in the direction she had intended—and the knife followed to keep it company. Having relieved herself of these sinister things, she straightened her hat, pushed back the rebellious hair, yanked at her skirt, and walked bravely up to the little house. An Angel lived there—an Angel in a dizzily beflowered wrapper and a crabbed exterior. She listened to a rapidly constructed and wholly incon- sistent story of a bicycle accident, which ended with a plea for a cup of coffee. Silently she proceeded to prepare it. After the pot was bubbling cheer- fully and eggs had been put on and biscuits thrust 92 CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE into a stove to be warmed over, the Angel sat down at the table opposite the Girl. “Book agent?" she asked. "Oh, no!" replied the Girl. “Sewing-machines ?” “No." There was a pause as the Angel settled and poured a cup of coffee. “Make to order, I s'pose ? " "No," the Girl replied uncertainly. “What do you sell ?” “Nothing, I–1 ” She stopped. “What you got in the bag?" the Angel per- sisted. "Some—some—just some—stuff,” stammered the Girl, and her face suddenly flushed crimson. “What kind of stuff?". The Girl looked into the frankly inquisitive eyes and was overwhelmed by a sense of her own help- lessness. Tears started, and one pearly drop ran down her perfect nose and splashed in the coffee. CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE 93 That was the last straw. She leaned forward suddenly with her head on her arms and wept. "Please, please don't ask questions !” she pleaded. “I'm a poor, foolish, helpless, mis- guided, disillusioned woman!”. “Yes’m,” said the Angel. She took up the eggs, then came over and put a kindly arm about the Girl's shoulders. “There, there!” she said soothingly. “Don't take on like that! Drink some coffee, and eat a bite, and you'll feel better!” “I have had no sleep at all and no food since yesterday, and I've walked miles and miles and miles,” the Girl rushed on feverishly. “It's all because—because " She stopped suddenly. “Eat something," commanded the Angel. The Girl obeyed. The coffee was weak and muddy and delightful; the biscuits were yellow and lumpy and delicious; the eggs were eggs. Th: Angel sat opposite and watched the Girl as sh: ate. * Husband beat you ?" she demanded suddenly. The Girl blushed and choked. "No," she hastened to say. “I have no hus- band." "Well, there ain't no serious trouble in this e ain 10 se 94 CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE world till you marry a man that beats you," said the Angel judicially. It was the final word. The Girl didn't answer, and, in view of the fact that she had sufficient data at hand to argue the point, this repression required heroism. Perhaps she will never get credit for it. She finished the breakfast in silence and leaned back with some measure of returning content in her soul. “In a hurry?” asked the Angel. “No, I have no place to go. What is the nearest village or town?”. “Watertown, but you'd better stay and rest a while. You look all tuckered out." “Oh, thank you so much,” said the Girl grate- fully. “But it would be so much trouble for— " The Angel picked up the burlap bag, shook it inquiringly, then started toward the short stairs leading up. " Please, please !” exclaimed the Girl suddenly. “I—1—let me have that, please ! " The Angel relinquished the bag without a word. CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE 95 The Girl took it, tremblingly, then, suddenly drop- ping it, clasped the Angel in her arms and placed upon her unresponsive lips a kiss for which a mere man would have endangered his immortal soul. The Angel wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and went on up the stairs with the Girl following. For a time the Girl lay, with wet eyes, on a clean little bed, thinking. Humiliation, exhaus- tion, man's perfidy, disillusionment, and the kind- ness of an utter stranger all occupied her until she fell asleep. Then she was chased by a policeman with automobile lights for eyes, and there was a parade of hard-boiled eggs and yellow, lumpy bis- cuits. When she awoke the room was quite dark. She sat up a little bewildered at first; then she re- membered. After a moment she heard the voice of the Angel, below. It rippled on querulously; then she heard the gruff voice of a man. “Diamond rings?”. The Girl sat up in bed and listened intently. Involuntarily her hands were clasped together. Her rings were still safe. The Angel's voice went on for a moment again. 96 CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE “Something in a bag ?” inquired the man. Again the Angel spoke. Terror seized upon the Girl; imagination ran riot, and she rose from the bed, trembling. She groped about the dark room noiselessly. Every shadow lent her new fears. Then from below came the sound of heavy footsteps. She listened fearfully. They came on toward the stairs, then paused. A match was struck and the step sounded on the stairs. After a moment there was a knock at the door, a pause, then another knock. Finally the door was pushed open and a huge figure—the figure of a man—appeared, sheltering a candle with one hand. He peered about the room as if perplexed. "Ain't nobody up here,” he called gruffly down the stairs. O 28 was CHAPTER IV IF Willie's little brother hadn't had a pain in his tummy this story might have gone by other and devious ways to a different conclusion. But fortunately he did have, so it happened that at precisely 8.47 o'clock of a warm evening Willie was racing madly along a side street of Watertown, drug-store-bound, when he came face to face with a Girl—a pretty Girl-a very pretty Girl. She was carrying a bag that clanked a little at each step. "Oh, little boy!” she called. “Hunh?" and Willie stopped so suddenly that he endangered his equilibrium, although that isn't how he would have said it. “Nice little boy," said the Girl soothingly, and she patted his tousled head while he gnawed a thumb in pained embarrassment. “I'm very tired. I have been walking a great distance. Could you tell me, please, where a lady, unattended, might get a night's lodging somewhere near here ? ". “ Hunh?” gurgled Willie through the thumb. 98 CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE 99 Wearily the Girl repeated it all and at its end Willie giggled. It was the most exasperating in- cident of a long series of exasperating incidents, and the Girl's grip on the bag tightened a little. 9 . Willie never knew how nearly he came to being hammered to death with fourteen pounds of solid gold. “Well ? " inquired the Girl at last. "Dunno,” said Willie. "Jimmy's got the stomach-ache,” he added irrelevantly. “ Can't you think of a hotel or boarding-house near by?” the Girl insisted. “Dunno,” replied Willie. “I'm going to the drug store for a pair o' gorrick.” The Girl bit her lip, and that act probably saved Willie from the dire consequences of his uncon- scious levity, for after a moment the Girl laughed aloud. “Where is the drug store?" she asked. " 'Round the corner. I'm going." “I'll go along, too, if you don't mind,” the Girl ICON- 100 CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE said, and she turned and walked beside him. Per- haps the drug clerk would be able to illuminate the situation. “I swallyed a penny oncst,” Willie confided suddenly. “Too bad!" commented the Girl. “ Unh unnh,” Willie denied emphatically. “ 'Cause when I cried, Paw gimme a quarter." He was silent a moment, then: "If I'd 'a' swallyed that, I reckin he'd gimme a dollar. Gee!" This is the optimism that makes the world go round. The philosophy took possession of the Girl and cheered her. When she entered the drug store she walked with a lighter step and there was a trace of a smile about her pretty mouth. A clerk, the only attendant, came forward. “I want a pair o gorrick," Willie announced. The Girl smiled, and the clerk, paying no at- tention to the boy, went toward her. “Better attend to him first," she suggested. “ It seems urgent.” The clerk turned to Willie. 102 CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE sense of shame. She registered as Elizabeth Carl- ton and was shown to a modest little room. Her first act was to hide the gold plate in the closet; her second was to take it out and hide it under the bed. Then she sat down on a couch to think. For an hour or more she considered the situation in all its hideous details, planning her deso- late future—women like to plan desolate futures- then her eye chanced to fall upon an afternoon paper, which, with glaring headlines, announced the theft of the Randolph gold plate. She read it. It told, with startling detail, things that had and had not happened in connection therewith. This comprehended in all its horror, she promptly arose and hid the bag between the mat- tress and the springs. Soon after she extinguished the light and retired with little shivers running up and down all over her. She snuggled her head down under the cover. She didn't sleep much- she was still thinking—but when she arose next. morning her mind was made up. CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE 105 with her so far as any objection from that clerk would have been concerned. Once out of the hotel the Girl hurried on. “Thank goodness, that's over,” she exclaimed. For several blocks she walked on. Finally her eye was attracted by a “To Let” sign on a small house—it was No. 410 State Street. She walked in through a gate cut in the solid wall of stone and strolled up to the house. Here she wandered about for a time, incidentally tearing off the “ To Let" sign. Then she came down the path toward the street again. Just inside the stone fence she left her express package, after scribbling the name of the street on it with a pencil. A dollar bill lay on top. She hurried out and along a block or more to a small grocery. “Will you please 'phone to the express com- pany and have them send a wagon to No. 410 State Street for a package?” she asked sweetly of a heavy-voiced grocer. “ Certainly, ma'am,” he responded with alac- rity. She paused until he had done as she requested, then dropped into a restaurant for a cup of coffee. She lingered there for a long time, and then went 106 CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE out to spend a greater part of the day wandering up and down State Street. At last an express --- wagon drove up, the driver went in and returned after a little while with the package. "And, thank goodness, that's off my hands!” sighed the Girl. “Now I'm going home.” · Late that evening, Saturday, Miss Dollie Mere- dith returned to the home of the Greytons and was clasped to the motherly bosom of Mrs. Grey- ton, where she wept unreservedly. “A dollar bill lay on top”. CHAPTER V It was late Sunday afternoon. Hutchinson Hatch did not run lightly up the steps of the Greyton home and toss his cigar away as he rang the bell. He did go up the steps, but it was reluctantly, dragging one foot after the other, this being an indication rather of his mental condition than of physical weariness. He did not throw away his cigar as he rang the bell because he wasn't smok- ing—but he did ring the bell. The maid whom he had seen on his previous visit opened the door. “Is Mrs. Greyton in ?” he asked with a nod of recognition. “No, sir." " Mr. Greyton ?" “No, sir." “Did Mr. Meredith arrive from Baltimore?” “Yes, sir. Last midnight." “Ah! Is he in?”. “No, sir." The reporter's disappointment showed clearly in his face. 107 CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE 109 “You might intimate as much to Miss Mere- dith,” he instructed the maid calmly. The maid disappeared. Hatch went in and sat down in the reception-room, and said “Whew!” several times. “The gold plate returned to Randolph last night by express,” he mused, also, last night. Now what does that mean?” After a minute or so the maid reappeared to state that Miss Meredith would see him. Hatch received the message gravely and beckoned mys- teriously as he sought for a bill in his pocketbook. "Do you have any idea where Miss Meredith was?" “No, sir. She didn't even tell Mrs. Greyton or her father." “What was her appearance?”. “She seemed very tired, sir, and hungry. She still wore the masked ball costume." The bill changed hands and Hatch was left alone again. There was a long wait, then a rustle of skirts, a light step, and Miss Dollie Meredith entered She was nervous, it is true, and pallid, but there was a suggestion of defiance as well as determina- 110 CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE Ve. tion on her pretty mouth. Hatch stared at her in frank admiration for a moment, then, with an effort, proceeded to business. “I presume, Miss Meredith,” he said solemnly, " that the maid informed you of my identity?” “Yes,” replied Dollie weakly. “She said you were a detective." “Ah!” exclaimed the reporter meaningly, " then we understand each other. Now, Miss Meredith, will you tell me, please, just where you have been?” “No." The answer was so prompt and so emphatic that Hatch was a little disconcerted. He cleared his throat and started over again. “Will you inform me, then, in the interest of justice, where you were on the evening of the Randolph ball?" An ominous threat lay behind the words, Hatch hoped she believed. “I will not." "Why did you disappear?" “I will not tell you." CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE 111 Hatch paused to readjust himself. He was going at things backward. When next he spoke his tone had lost the official tang—he talked like a human being. “May I ask if you happen to know Richard Herbert ? ” The pallor of the girl's face was relieved by a delicious sweep of colour. “I will not tell you,” she answered. “And if I say that Mr. Herbert happens to be a friend of mine?” “Well, you ought to be ashamed of yourself!” Two distracting blue eyes were staring him out of countenance; two scarlet lips were drawn tightly together in reproof of a man who boasted such a friendship; two cheeks flamed with indignation that he should have mentioned the name. Hatch floundered for a moment, then cleared his throat and took a fresh start. “Will you deny that you saw Richard Herbert on the evening of the masked ball ?” “I will not." 112 CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE “Will you admit that you saw him ? " “I will not." “Do you know that he was wounded?” “ Certainly." Now, Hatch had always held a vague theory that the easiest way to make a secret known was to intrust it to a woman. At this point he revised his draw, threw his hand in the pack, and asked for a new deal. "Miss Meredith,” he said soothingly after a pause, “will you admit or deny that you ever heard of the Randolph robbery?" “I will not,” she began, then: “ Certainly I know of it.” “You know that a man and a woman are ac- cused of and sought for the theft?" “Yes, I know that." “You will admit that you know the man was in Burglar's garb, and that the woman was dressed in a Western costume ?" 114 CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE “I beg your pardon,” he repeated awkwardly. Dollie looked up with tear-stained, pleading eyes, then arose and placed both her hands on Hatch's arm. It was a pitiful, helpless sort of a gesture; Hatch shuddered with sheer delight. “I don't know how you found out about it,” she said tremulously, “but, if you've come to ar- rest me, I'm ready to go with you." “Arrest you?” gasped the reporter. “Certainly. I'll go and be locked up. That's what they do, isn't it?" she questioned innocently. The reporter stared. “I wouldn't arrest you for a million dollars!” he stammered in dire confusion. “It wasn't quite that. It was— " And five minutes later Hutchinson Hatch found himself wandering aimlessly up and down the side- walk. 100 DIDATTIMES UN GIDO CHAPTER VI Dick HERBERT lay stretched lazily on a couch in his room with hands pressed to his eyes. He had just read the Sunday newspapers announcing the mysterious return of the Randolph plate, and naturally he had a headache. Somewhere in a remote recess of his brain mental pyrotechnics were at play; a sort of intellectual pinwheel spouted senseless ideas and suggestions of sense- less ideas. The late afternoon shaded off into twi- light, twilight into dusk, dusk into darkness, and still he lay motionless. After a while, from below, he heard the tinkle of a bell and Blair entered with light tread: “Beg pardon, sir, are you asleep ?” “ Who is it, Blair?" “Mr. Hatch, sir." “Let him come up.” Dick arose, snapped on the electric lights, and stood blinkingly in the sudden glare. When Hatch entered they faced each other silently for a 115 116 CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE moment. There was that in the reporter's eyes that interested Dick immeasurably; there was that in Dick's eyes that Hatch was trying vainly to fathom. Dick relieved a certain vague tension by extending his left hand. Hatch shook it cordially. “Well?” Dick inquired. Hatch dropped into a chair and twirled his hat. “Heard the news ?” he asked. “The return of the gold plate, yes," and Dick es passed a hand across his fevered brow. “It makes me dizzy." “Heard anything from Miss Meredith ? " “No. Why?" “She returned to the Greytons last night.” “Returned to the — ” and Dick started up suddenly. “Well, there's no reason why she shouldn't have,” he added. “Do you happen to know where she was?”. The reporter shook his head. “I don't know anything,” he said wearily, "ex- cept- " He paused. Dick paced back and forth across the room sev- CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE 117 eral times with one hand pressed to his forehead. Suddenly he turned on his visitor. “Except what?” he demanded. “Except that Miss Meredith, by action and word, has convinced me that she either had a hand in the disappearance of the Randolph plate or else knows who was the cause of its disappear- ance." Dick glared at him savagely. “You know she didn't take the plate ?” he demanded. "Certainly," replied the reporter. “That's what makes it all the more astonishing. I talked to her this afternoon, and when I finished she seemed to think I had come to arrest her, and she wanted to go to jail. I nearly fainted." Dick glared incredulously, then resumed his nervous pacing. Suddenly he stopped. “Did she mention my name ? " “I mentioned it. She wouldn't admit even that she knew you." There was a pause. Oy, 118 CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE “I don't blame her,” Dick remarked enigmati- cally. “She must think me a cad." Another pause. “Well, what about it all, anyhow?" Dick went on finally. “The plate has been returned, there- fore the matter is at an end." “Now look here, Dick," said Hatch. “I want to say something, and don't go crazy, please, until I finish. I know an awful lot about this affair- things the police never will know. I haven't printed anything much for obvious reasons." Dick looked at him apprehensively. “Go on," he urged. “I could print things I know," the reporter re- sumed; “swear out a warrant for you in connec- tion with the gold plate affair and have you arrested and convicted on your own statements, supplemented by those of Miss Meredith. Yet, remember, please, neither your name nor hers has been mentioned as yet.” Dick took it calmly; he only stared. “Do you believe that I stole the plate?” he asked. “Certainly I do not,” replied Hatch, " but I can prove that you did; prove it to the satisfaction CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE 119 of any jury in the world, and no denial of yours would have any effect.” “Well?" asked Dick, after a moment. “Further, I can, on information in my posses- sion, swear out a warrant for Miss Meredith, prove she was in the automobile, and convict her as your accomplice. Now that's a silly state of affairs, isn't it?” “But, man, you can't believe that she had any- thing to do with it! She's—she's not that kind.” "I could take oath that she didn't have any- thing to do with it, but all the same I can prove that she did,” replied Hatch. “Now what I am getting at is this: if the police should happen to find out what I know they would send you up- both of you.” “Well, you are decent about it, old man, and I appreciate it,” said Dick warmly. “But what can we do ?” "It behoves us—Miss Meredith and you and 120 CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE myself—to get the true facts in the case all to- gether before you get pinched," said the reporter judicially. “Suppose now, just suppose, that we three get together and tell each other the truth for a change, the whole truth, and see what will happen?” “If I should tell you the truth,” said Dick dis- passionately, “it would bring everlasting disgrace on Miss Meredith, and I'd be a beast for doing it; if she told you the truth she would unquestionably send me to prison for theft." “But here— ” Hatch expostulated. “ Just a minute!” Dick disappeared into an- other room, leaving the reporter to chew on what he had, then returned in a little while, dressed for the street. “Now, Hatch," he said, “I'm going to try to get to Miss Meredith, but I don't believe she'll see me. If she will, I may be able to explain several things that will clear up this affair in your mind, at any rate. If I don't see her By the way, did her father arrive from Baltimore?". “Yes." "Good!” exclaimed Dick. "I'll see him, too—make a show-down of it, and when it's all over I'll let you know what happened." CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE 121 Hatch went back to his shop and threatened to kick the office-boy into the waste-basket. At just about that moment Mr. Meredith, in the Greyton home, was reading a card on which appeared the name, “Mr. Richard Hamilton Her- bert." Having read it, he snorted his indignation and went into the reception-room. Dick arose to greet him and offered a hand, which was promptly declined. “I'd like to ask you, Mr. Meredith,” Dick began with a certain steelly coldness in his manner, “just why you object to my attention to your daughter, Dorothy ?”. “You know well enough!" raged the old man. " It is because of the trouble I had in Harvard with your son, Harry. Well and good, but is that all? Is that to stand forever?” 122 CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE “You proved then that you were not a gentle- man,” declared the old man savagely. “You're a puppy, sir." “ If you didn't happen to be the father of the girl I'm in love with I'd poke you in the nose," Dick replied, almost cheerfully. “Where is your son now? Is there no way I can place myself right in your eyes ?” “No!” Mr. Meredith thundered. “An apol- ogy would only be a confession of your dis- honour!” Dick was nearly choking, but managed to keep his voice down. “Does your daughter know anything of that affair ? ! “ Certainly not.”. “Where is your son ? " “None of your business, sir!” “I don't suppose there's any doubt in your mind of my affection for your daughter ? " “I suppose you do admire her," snapped the CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE 123 old man. “You can't help that, I suppose. No one can,” he added naïvely. "And I suppose you know that she loves me, in spite of your objections ? ” went on the young man. “Bah! Bah!” "And that you are breaking her heart by your mutton-headed objection to me?" “You—you- ” sputtered Mr. Meredith. Dick was still calm. “May I see Miss Meredith for a few min- utes ?” he went on. “She won't see you, sir,” stormed the irate parent. “She told me last night that she would never consent to see you again." “Will you give me your permission to see her here and now, if she will consent? ” Dick insisted steadily. “She won't see you, I say." “May I send a card to her?” “She won't see you, sir," repeated Mr. Mere- dith doggedly. Dick stepped out into the hall and beckoned to the maid. * Please take my card to Miss Meredith," he directed lev 124 124 CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE The maid accepted the white square, with a little uplifting of her brows, and went up the stairs. Miss Meredith received it languidly, read it, then sat up indignantly. “Dick Herbert !” she exclaimed incredulously. “How dare he come here? It's the most auda- cious thing I ever heard of! Certainly I will not see him again in any circumstances.” She arose and glared defiantly at the demure maid. “Tell Mr. Herbert,” she said emphatically," tell him- that I'll be right down." ahan CHAPTER VII MR. MEREDITH had stamped out of the room angrily, and Dick Herbert was alone when Dollie, in regal indignation, swept in. The general slant of her ruddy head radiated defiance, and a most depressing chilliness lay in her blue eyes. Her lips formed a scarlet line, and there was a how- dare-you-sir tilt to nose and chin. Dick started up quickly at her appearance. “Dollie!” he exclaimed eagerly. “Mr. Herbert,” she responded coldly. She sat down primly on the extreme edge of a chair which yawned to embrace her. “What is it, please ? " Dick was a singularly audacious sort of person, but her manner froze him into sudden austerity. He regarded her steadily for a moment. “I have come to explain why- " Miss Dollie Meredith sniffed. "I have come to explain,” he went on, “why I did not meet you at the Randolph masked ball, as we had planned.” 125 126 CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE “Why you did not meet me?" inquired Dollie coldly, with a little surprised movement of her arched brows. “Why you did not meet me?" she repeated. "I shall have to ask you to believe that, in the circumstances, it was absolutely impossible,” Dick continued, preferring not to notice the singular emphasis of her words. “Something occurred early that evening which—which left me no choice in the matter. I can readily understand your in- dignation and humiliation at my failure to appear, and I had no way of reaching you that evening or since. News of your return last night only reached me an hour ago. I knew you had disappeared." Dollie's blue eyes were opened to the widest and her lips parted a little in astonishment. For a mo- ment she sat thus, staring at the young man, then she sank back into her chair with a little gasp. “May I inquire," she asked, after she re- covered her breath, “the cause of this—this levity?" . “Dollie, dear, I am perfectly serious," Dick assured her earnestly. “I am trying to make it plain to you, that's all.” * Why you did not meet me?” Dollie repeated 128 CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE Dollie gasped and nearly choked with her emo- tions. A flame of scarlet leaped into her face and the glare of the blue eyes was pitiless. "Mr. Herbert,” she said deliberately at last, “I don't know whether you think I am a fool or only a child. I know that no rational human being can accept that as true. I know I left Seven Oaks with you in the auto; I know you are the man who stole the gold plate; I know how you received the shot in your right shoulder; I know how you after- ward fainted from loss of blood. I know how I bound up your wound and—and—I know a lot of things else! ” The sudden rush of words left her breathless for an instant. Dick listened quietly. He started to say something—to expostulate—but she got a fresh start and hurried on: "I recognised you in that silly disguise by the cleft in your chin. I called you Dick and you answered me. I asked if you had received the little casket and you answered yes. I left the ball- CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE 129 room as you directed and climbed into the automo- bile. I know that horrid ride we had, and how I took the gold plate in the bag and walked— walked through the night until I was exhausted. I know it all—how I lied and connived, and told silly stories—but I did it all to save you from yourself, and now you dare face me with a de- save m nial!" Dollie suddenly burst into tears. Dick now attempted no further denial. There was no anger in his face-only a deeply troubled expression. He arose and walked over to the window, where he stood staring out. “I know it all,” Dollie repeated gurglingly- “all, except what possible idea you had in stealing the miserable, wretched old plate, anyway!" There was a pause and Dollie peered through teary fingers. “How-how long," she asked, “have you been a—a—a—kleptomaniac? " Dick shrugged his sturdy shoulders a little im- patiently. "Did your father ever happen to tell you why he objects to my attentions to you ?” he asked. “No, but I know now.” And there was a new 130 CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE burst of tears. “It's because—because you are a—a—you take things.” “You will not believe what I tell you ? " “How can I when I helped you run away with the horrid stuff ? ”. "If I pledge you my word of honour that I told you the truth?” “I can't believe it, I can't!” wailed Dollie desolately. “No one could believe it. I never suspected-never dreamed—of the possibility of such a thing even when you lay wounded out there in the dark woods. If I had, I should certainly have never-have never-kissed you." Dick wheeled suddenly. “Kissed me?" he exclaimed. “Yes, you horrid thing!" sobbed Dollie. “If there had previously been the slightest doubt in my mind as to your identity, that would have con- vinced me that it was you, because—because—just because! And besides, if it wasn't you I kissed, you ought to have told me!” vin va luse 132 CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE “Oh, you did do it then?” she demanded. This was worse than ever! “Suppose I should confess that I did ? " “Oh, Dick!” she sobbed. And her arms went suddenly around his neck. “You are breaking my heart. Why? Why?". “Would you be satisfied ?" he insisted. “What could have caused you to do such a thing?" The love-light glimmered again in her blue eyes; the red lips trembled. “Suppose it had been just a freak of mine, and I had intended to—to return the stuff, as has been done?" he went on. Dollie stared deeply into the eyes upturned to hers. “Silly boy,” she said. Then she kissed him. “But you must never, never do it again.” “I never will,” he promised solemnly. Five minutes later Dick was leaving the house, when he met Mr. Meredith in the hall. “ Silly boy,' she said” CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE 133 " I'm going to marry your daughter,” he said quite calmly. Mr. Meredith raved at him as he went down the steps. CHAPTER VIII Alone in her room, with the key turned in the lock, Miss Dollie Meredith had a perfectly de- lightful time. She wept and laughed and sobbed and shuddered; she was pensive and doleful and happy and melancholy; she dreamed dreams of the future, past and present; she sang foolish little ecstatic songs—just a few words of each—and cried again copiously. Her father had sent her to her room with a stern reprimand, and she gig- gled joyously as she remembered it. "After all, it wasn't anything,” she assured her- self. "It was silly for him to—to take the stuff, of course, but it's back now, and he told me the truth, and he intended to return it, anyway." In her present mood she would have justified any- thing. “And he's not a thief or anything. I don't suppose father will ever give his consent, so, after all, we'll have to elope, and that will be 134 CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE 135 perfectly delightful. Papa will go on dreadfully and then he'll be all right.” After a while Dollie snuggled down in the sheets and lay quite still in the dark until sleep overtook her. Silence reigned in the house. It was about two o'clock in the morning when she sat up suddenly in bed with startled eyes. She had heard something—or rather in her sleep she had received the impression of hearing something. She listened intently as she peered about. Finally she did hear something—something tap sharply on the window once. Then came silence again. A frightened chill ran all the way down to Dollie's curling pink toes. There was a pause, and then again came the sharp click on the win- dow, whereupon Dollie pattered out of bed in her bare feet and ran to the window, which was open a few inches. With the greatest caution she peered out. Vaguely skulking in the shadows below she made out the figure of a man. As she looked it seemed 136 CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE to draw up into a knot, then straighten out quickly. Involuntarily she dodged. There came another sharp click at the window. The man below was tossing pebbles against the pane with the obvious purpose of attracting her attention. “ Dick, is that you ?" she called cautiously. “Sh-h-h-h!" came the answer. “Here's a note for you. Open the window so I may throw it in." “Is it really and truly you?” Dollie in- sisted. “Yes,” came the hurried, whispered answer. “Quick, someone is coming!" Dollie threw the sash up and stepped back. A whirling, white object came through and fell noise- lessly on the carpet. Dollie seized upon it eagerly and ran to the window again. Below she saw the nswer VW retreating figure of a man. Other footsteps ma- terialised in a bulky policeman, who strolled by seeking, perhaps, a quiet spot for a nap. : She opened the note eagerly and sat down upon the floor to read it” CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE 137 се Shivering with excitement, Dollie closed the win- dow and pulled down the shade, after which she lighted the gas. She opened the note eagerly and sat down upon the floor to read it. Now a large part of this note was extraneous verbiage of a superlative emotional nature-its vital importance was an outline of a new plan of elopement, to take place on Wednesday in time for them to catch a European-bound steamer at half-past two in the afternoon. Dollie read and reread the crumpled sheet many times, and when finally its wording had been indel- ibly fixed in her mind she wasted an unbelievable number of kisses on it. Of course this was sheer extravagance, but-girls are wonderful creatures. "He's the dearest thing in the world!” she declared at last. She burned the note reluctantly and carefully disposed of the ashes by throwing them out of the window, after which she returned to her bed. On the following morning, Monday, father glared at daughter sternly as she demurely entered the breakfast-room. He was seeking to read that which no man has ever been able to read-a CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE 137 Shivering with excitement, Dollie closed the win- dow and pulled down the shade, after which she lighted the gas. She opened the note eagerly and sat down upon the floor to read it. Now a large part of this note was extraneous verbiage of a superlative emotional nature—its vital importance was an outline of a new plan of elopement, to take place on Wednesday in time for them to catch a European-bound steamer at half-past two in the afternoon. Dollie read and reread the crumpled sheet many times, and when finally its wording had been indel- ibly fixed in her mind she wasted an unbelievable number of kisses on it. Of course this was sheer extravagance, but-girls are wonderful creatures. "He's the dearest thing in the world!” she declared at last. She burned the note reluctantly and carefully disposed of the ashes by throwing them out of the window, after which she returned to her bed. On the following morning, Monday, father glared at daughter sternly as she demurely entered the breakfast-room. He was seeking to read that which no man has ever been able to read-a 140 CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE “The police ! ” Dick smiled. “Did you see her?” Hatch asked. “Yes, I saw her—and her father, too." Hatch saw the one door by which he had hoped to solve the riddle closing on him. “Was Miss Meredith the girl in the automo- bile ? ” he asked bluntly. “Really, I won't answer that." “Are you the man who stole the gold plate ? " no- C . 2 “I won't answer that, either," replied Dick smilingly. “Now, look here, Hatch, you're a good fellow. I like you. It is your business to find out things, but, in this particular affair, I'm going to make it my business to keep you from finding out things. I'll risk the police end of it.” He went over and shook hands with the reporter cordially. “Believe me, if I told you the absolute truth—all of it—you couldn't print it unless— unless I was arrested, and I don't intend that that shall happen." Hatch went away. CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE 141 That night the Randolph gold plate was stolen for the second time. Thirty-six hours later Detec- tive Mallory arrested Richard Herbert with the stolen plate in his possession. Dick burst out laughing when the detective walked in on him. PART III THE THINKING MACHINE CHAPTER I PROFESSOR AUGUSTUS S. F. X. Van DUSEN, Ph. D., LL. D., F. R. S., M. D., etc., etc., was the Court of Last Appeal in the sciences. He was five feet two inches tall, weighed 107 pounds, that being slightly above normal, and wore a number eight hat. Bushy, yellow hair straggled down about his ears and partially framed a clean-shaven, wizened face in which were combined the paradoxical quali- ties of extreme aggressiveness and childish petu- lance. The mouth drooped a little at the corners, being otherwise a straight line; the eyes were mere slits of blue, squinting eternally through thick spectacles. His brow rose straight up, domelike, majestic even, and added a whimsical grotesque- ness to his appearance. The Professor's idea of light literature, for rare moments of recreation, was page after page of encyclopædic discussion on “ologies " and "isms ” with lots of figures in 'em. Sometimes he wrote: ere 142 CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE 143 these discussions himself, and frequently held them up to annihilation. His usual speaking tone was one of deep annoyance, and he had an unwavering glare that went straight through one. He was the son of the son of the son of an eminent German scientist, the logical production of a house that had borne a distinguished name in the sciences for gen- erations. Thirty-five of his fifty years had been devoted to logic, study, analysis of cause and effect, mental, material, and psychological. By his personal efforts he had mercilessly flattened out and read- justed at least two of the exact sciences and had added immeasurably to the world's sum of knowl- edge in others. Once he had held the chair of philosophy in a great university, but casually one day he promulgated a thesis that knocked the faculty's eye out, and he was invited to vacate. It was a dozen years later that that university had CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE 145 through material muddles far removed from the delicately precise labours of the laboratory. Now The Thinking Machine sat in a huge chair in his reception-room with long, slender fingers pressed tip to tip and squint eyes turned upward. Hatch was talking, had been talking for more than an hour with infrequent interruptions. In that time he had laid bare the facts as he and the police knew them from the incidents of the masked ball at Seven Oaks to the return of Dollie Meredith. “Now, Mr. Hatch," asked The Thinking Ma- chine, " just what is known of this second theft of the gold plate ? " AS DWIDE 13. “It's simple enough,” explained the reporter. " It was plain burglary. Some person entered the Randolph house on Monday night by cutting out a pane of glass and unfastening a window-latch. Whoever it was took the plate and escaped. That's all anyone knows of it." “Left no clew, of course?” “No, so far as has been found.”' “I presume that, on its return by express, Mr. 146 CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE Randolph ordered the plate placed in the small room as before ?". “ Yes." “He's a fool.” “Yes.'' “Please go on." "Now the police absolutely decline to say as yet just what evidence they have against Herbert beyond the finding of the plate in his possession,” the reporter resumed, “though, of course, that's enough and to spare. They will not say, either, how they first came to connect him with the affair. Detective Mallory doesn't- " “When and where was Mr. Herbert ar- rested?” “ Yesterday, Tuesday, afternoon in his rooms. Fourteen pieces of the gold plate were on the table." The Thinking Machine dropped his eyes a moment to squint at the reporter. “Only eleven pieces of the plate were first stolen, you said ? " “Only eleven, yes." “And I think you said two shots were fired at the thief ? " “ Long, slender fingers pressed tip to tip and squint eyes turned upward” CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE 147 “ Yes." “Who fired them, please ? " “One of the detectives—Cunningham, I think.” “It was a detective—you know that?” “Yes, I know that." “Yes, yes. Please go on." “ The plate was all spread out—there was no attempt to conceal it,” Hatch resumed. “There was a box on the floor and Herbert was about to pack the stuff in it when Detective Mallory and two of his men entered. Herbert's servant, Blair, was away from the house at the time. His people are up in Nova Scotia, so he was alone.” “Nothing but the gold plate was found?” “Oh, yes!” exclaimed the reporter. “There was a lot of jewelry in a case and fifteen or twenty odd pieces—fifty thousand dollars' worth of stuff, at least. The police took it to find the owners." “Dear me! Dear me!” exclaimed The Think- ing Machine. “Why didn't you mention the jewelry at first? Wait a minute." CLIP21 28 148 CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE Hatch was silent while the scientist continued to squint at the ceiling. He wriggled in his chair uncomfortably and smoked a couple of cigarettes before The Thinking Machine turned to him and nodded. “That's all I know," said Hatch. "Did Mr. Herbert say anything when ar- rested?" “No, he only laughed. I don't know why. I don't imagine it would have been at all funny to me." “ Has he said anything since ?". “No, nothing to me or anybody else. He was arraigned at a preliminary hearing, pleaded not guilty, and was released on twenty thousand dollars bail. Some of his rich friends furnished it.” “Did he give any reason for his refusal to say anything?" insisted The Thinking Machine testily. “He remarked to me that he wouldn't say any. thing, because, even if he told the truth, no one would believe him." "If it should have been a protestation of inno- cence I'm afraid nobody would have believed him," commented the scientist enigmatically. He CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE 149 was silent for several minutes. “It could have been a brother, of course," he mused. “A brother?” asked Hatch quickly. “Whose brother? What brother?” “As I understand it," the scientist went on, not heeding the question, “you did not believe Her- bert guilty of the first theft?” “Why, I couldn't,” Hatch protested. “I couldn't,” he repeated. “Why?" “Well, because—because he's not that sort of man,” explained the reporter. “I've known him for years, personally and by reputation." “Was he a particular friend of yours in col- lege?” “No, not an intimate, but he was in my class— and he's a whacking, jam-up, ace-high football player.” That squared everything. “Do you now believe him guilty ? " insisted the scientist. 150 CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE “I can't believe anything else—and yet I'd stake my life on his honesty." “And Miss Meredith ? " The reporter was reaching the explosive point. He had seen and talked to Miss Meredith, you know. " It's perfectly asinine to suppose that she had anything to do with either theft, don't you think?" The Thinking Machine was silent on that point. “Well, Mr. Hatch," he said finally, “the prob- lem comes down to this: Did a man, and perhaps a woman, who are circumstantially proven guilty of stealing the gold plate, actually steal it? We have the stained cushion of the automobile in which the thieves escaped to indicate that one of them was wounded; we have Mr. Herbert with an injured right shoulder-a hurt received that night CHAPTER II The Supreme Police Intelligence of the Metro- politan District was doing some heavy thinking, which, modestly enough, bore generally on his own dazzling perspicacity. Just at the moment he couldn't recall any detector of crime whose lustre in any way dimmed his own, or whose mere shadow, even, had a right to fall on the same earth as his; and this lapse of memory so stimulated his admiration for the subject of his thoughts that he lighted a fresh cigar and put his feet in the middle of the desk. He sat thus when The Thinking Machine called. The Supreme Intelligence-Mr. Mallory -knew Professor Van Dusen well, and, though he received his visitor graciously, he showed no difficulty in restraining any undue outburst of enthusiasm. Instead, the same admirable self- control which prevented him from outwardly evi- dencing his pleasure prompted him to square back in his chair with a touch of patronising aggressive- ness in his manner. ce same 153 154 CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE “Ah, Professor," was his noncommittal greet- ing. “Good-evening, Mr. Mallory," responded the scientist in the thin, irritated voice which always set Mr. Mallory's nerves a-jangle. “I don't sup- pose you would tell me by what steps you were led to arrest Mr. Herbert?". “I would not,” declared Mr. Mallory promptly. “No, nor would you inform me of the nature of the evidence against him in addition to the jewels and plate found in his possession ?”. “I would not,” replied Mr. Mallory again. “No, I thought perhaps you would not,” re- marked The Thinking Machine. “I understand, by the way, that one of your men took a leather cushion from the automobile in which the thieves escaped on the night of the ball ? " “Well, what of it?" demanded the detective. “I merely wanted to inquire if it would be per- missible for me to see that cushion ?”. Detective Mallory glared at him suspiciously, CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE 155 then slowly his heavy face relaxed, and he laughed as he arose and produced the cushion. “If you're trying to make any mystery of this cushion, you're in bad," he informed the scientist. “We know the owner of the automobile in which Herbert and the Girl escaped. The cushion means nothing." The Thinking Machine examined the heavy leather carefully and paid a great deal of attention to the crusted stains which it bore. He picked at one of the brown spots with his penknife and it flaked off in his hand. “ Herbert was caught with the goods on," de- clared the detective, and he thumped the desk with his lusty fist. “We've got the right man.” “Yes,” admitted The Thinking Machine, “it begins to look very much as if you did have the right man—for once.” Detective Mallory snorted. “Would you mind telling me if any of the 156 CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE jewelry you found in Mr. Herbert's possession has been identified ?" “Sure thing," replied the detective. “That's where I've got Herbert good. Four people who lost jewelry at the masked ball have appeared and claimed pieces of the stuff.” For an instant a slightly perplexed wrinkle ap- peared in the brow of The Thinking Machine, and as quickly it passed. “Of course, of course," he mused. “It's the biggest haul of stolen goods the police of this city have made for many years,” the de- tective volunteered complacently. “And, if I'm not wrong, there's more of it coming—no man knows how much more. Why, Herbert must have been operating for years, and he got away with it, of course, by the gentlemanly exterior, the polish, and all that. I consider his capture the most important that has happened since I have been connected with the police.” “Indeed?" inquired the scientist thoughtfully. He was still gazing at the cushion. " And the most important development of all is to come,” Detective Mallory rattled on. “That will be the real sensation, and make the arrest of CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE 159 0 ing,” he replied. “It was between two and three o'clock. He came here and I fixed him up." “Where was the wound, please ?” “In the right shoulder,” replied the physician, “just here," and he touched the reporter with one finger. “It wasn't dangerous, but he had lost considerable blood." Hatch was silent for a moment, dazed. Every new point piled up the evidence against Herbert. The location of the wound—a pistol-wound—the very hour of the dressing of it! Dick would have had plenty of time between the moment of the robbery, which was comparatively early, and the hour of his call on Doctor Walpole to do all those things which he was suspected of doing. “I don't suppose Mr. Herbert explained how he got the wound?” Hatch asked apprehensively. He was afraid he had. “No. I asked, but he evaded the question. It was, of course, none of my business, after I had extracted the bullet and dressed the hurt." “You have the bullet?” “Yes. It's the usual size-thirty-two calibre.” That was all. The prosecution was in, the case proven, the verdict rendered. Ten minutes later CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE 161 “I'm trying to get the truth,” remarked Hatch. “There is just one man in the world whom I must see before the truth can ever be told,” de- c DUBE clared Dick vehemently. “And I can't find him now. I don't know where he is !” “Let me find him. Who is he? What's his name?" “If I told you that I might as well tell you everything," Dick went on. “It was to prevent any mention of that name that I have allowed my- self to be placed in this position. It is purely a personal matter between us at least I will make it so—and if I ever meet him ” his hands closed and unclosed spasmodically, “ the truth will be known unless 1-I kill him first." More bewildered, more befuddled, and more generally betangled than ever, Hatch put his hands to his head to keep it from flying off. Finally he glanced around at Dick, who stood with clenched fists and closed teeth. A blaze of madness lay in Dick's eyes. 162 CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE "Have you seen Miss Meredith again?” in- quired the reporter. Dick burst out laughing. Half an hour later Hatch left him. On the glass top of an inkstand he carried three precious drops of Herbert's blood. 164 CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE agely. “Damn it, I don't know what I believe,” he tapered off. “It's absolutely impossible!” “Nothing is impossible, Mr. Hatch," snapped The Thinking Machine irritably. “The worst a problem can be is difficult, but all problems can be solved as inevitably as that two and two make four —not sometimes, but all the time. Please don't say things are impossible. It annoys me exceed- ingly." Hatch stared at his distinguished friend and smiled whimsically. He was also annoyed exceed- ingly on his own private, individual account—the annoyance that comes from irresistibly butting into immovable facts. “Doctor Walpole's statement,” The Thinking Machine went on after a moment, “makes this particular problem ludicrously simple. Two points alone show conclusively that Mr. Herbert was not the man in the automobile. I shall reach the third myself." 166 CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE “Here is the list,” said Hatch as he handed it over. The Thinking Machine took it in his long, slen- der fingers and turned two or three leaves. Finally he stopped and ran a finger down one page. “Ah,” he exclaimed at last. “I thought so." “Thought what?" asked Hatch curiously. “I'm going out to see Mr. Meredith now," re- marked The Thinking Machine irrelevantly. “Come along. Have you met him?" “No." Mr. Meredith had read the newspaper accounts of the arrest of Dick Herbert and the seizure of the gold plate and jewels; he had even taunted his charming daughter with it in a fatherly sort of a way. She was weeping, weeping her heart out over this latest proof of the perfidy and loath- someness of the man she loved. Incidentally, it may be mentioned here that the astute Mr. Mere- dith was not aware of any elopement plot—either the first or second. When a card bearing the name of Mr. Augustus S. F. X. Van Dusen was handed to Mr. Meredith he went wonderingly into the reception-room. There was a pause as the scientist and Mr. Mere- CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE 167 dith mentally sized each other up; then introduc- tions—and The Thinking Machine came down to business abruptly, as always. “May I ask, Mr. Meredith,” he began, “how many sons you have?” “One,” replied Mr. Meredith, puzzled. “May I ask his present address ? ” went on the scientist. Mr. Meredith studied the belligerent eyes of his caller and wondered what business it was of his, for Mr. Meredith was a belligerent sort of a person himself. “May I ask,” he inquired with pronounced em- phasis on the personal pronoun, “why you want to know ? " Hatch rubbed his chin thoughtfully. He was wondering what would happen to him when the cyclone struck. “ It may save him and you a great deal of an- noyance if you will give me his address," said The Thinking Machine. “I desire to communi- CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE 169 SCIE The Thinking Machine's narrow eyes were screwed down to the disappearing point, the slen- der white fingers were twiddled jerkily, the corru- gations remained in his brow. "How long has Mr. Meredith been there?” he asked at last. “Three months.” “Do you know he is there?” Mr. Meredith started to say something and swallowed it with an effort. “I know it positively, yes,” he replied. “I re- ceived this letter dated the second from him three days ago, and to-day I received a cable-dispatch forwarded to me here from Baltimore.” “Are you positive the letter is in your son's handwriting?" Mr. Meredith almost choked in mingled be- wilderment and resentment at the question and the manner of its asking. "I am positive, yes,” he replied at last, pre- serving his tone of dignity with a perceptible effort. He noted the inscrutable face of his caller and saw the corrugations in the brow suddenly swept away. “What business of yours is it, anyway?" blazed Mr. Meredith suddenly. 168 CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE cate with him immediately on a matter of the utmost importance-a purely personal matter." “Personal matter?” repeated Mr. Meredith. . “Your abruptness and manner, sir, were not cal- culated to invite confidence." The Thinking Machine bowed gravely. “May I ask your son's address ? ” he repeated. Mr. Meredith considered the matter at some length and finally arrived at the conclusion that he might ask. “He is in South America at present–Buenos Ayres," he replied. “What?” exclaimed The Thinking Machine so suddenly that both Hatch and Mr. Meredith started a little. “What?” he repeated, and wrinkles suddenly appeared in the domelike brow. “I said he was in South America-Buenos Ayres,” repeated Mr. Meredith stiffly, but a little awed. “A letter or cable to him in care of the American Consul at Buenos Ayres will reach him promptly.” wr OW. CHAPTER IV “But Mr. Herbert won't see anyone, sir,” pro- tested Blair. “Tell Mr. Herbert, please, that unless I can see him immediately his bail-bond will be with- drawn," directed The Thinking Machine. He stood waiting in the hall while Blair went up the stairs. Dick Herbert took the card impa- tiently and glanced at it. “Van Dusen," he mused. “Who the deuce is Van Dusen ? " Blair repeated the message he had received be- low. “What does he look like? " inquired Dick. “He's a shrivelled little man with a big yellow head, sir," replied Blair. “Let him come up," instructed Dick. Thus, within an hour after he had talked to Mr. Meredith, The Thinking Machine met Dick Herbert. “What's this about the bail-bond?” Dick in- quired. 171 172 CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE "I wanted to talk to you,” was the scientist's calm reply. “That seemed to be the easiest way to make you believe it was important, so " Dick's face flushed crimson at the trick. “Well, you see me!” he broke out angrily. “I ought to throw you down the stairs, but—what is it?" Not having been invited to a seat, The Thinking Machine took one anyway and settled himself com- fortably. "If you will listen to me for a moment without interruption,” he began testily, “I think the sub- ject of my remarks will be of deep personal con- cern to you. I am interested in solving this Randolph plate affair and have perhaps gone fur- ther in my investigation than anyone else. At least, I know more about it. There are some things I don't happen to know, however, that are of the greatest importance." "I tell you— " stormed Dick. "For instance,” calmly resumed the scientist, “it is very important for me to know whether or CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE 178 an not Harry Meredith was masked when he came into this room last Thursday night.” Dick gazed at him in surprise which approached awe. His eyes were widely distended, the lower part of his face lax, for the instant; then his white teeth closed with a snap and he sat down opposite The Thinking Machine. Anger had gone from his manner; instead there was a pallor of apprehen- sion in the clean-cut face. “Who are you, Mr. Van Dusen ?” he asked at last. His tone was mild, even deferential. “ Was he masked ? " insisted the scientist. For a long while Dick was silent. Finally he arose and paced nervously back and forth across the room, glancing at the diminutive figure of The Thinking Machine each time as he turned. “I won't say anything," he decided. “Will you name the cause of the trouble you and Meredith had in Harvard?” asked the scientist. Again there was a long pause. "No," Dick said finally. 174 CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE “ Did it have anything to do with theft?” “I don't know who you are or why you are prying into an affair that, at least on its face, does not concern you,” replied Dick. “I'll say nothing at all—unless—unless you produce the one man who can and shall explain this affair. Produce him here in this room where I can get my hands on him!” The Thinking Machine squinted at the sturdy shoulders with admiration in his face. “Did it ever happen to occur to you, Mr. Her- JOM! bert, that Harry Meredith and his father are pre- cisely of the same build?” Some nameless, impalpable expression crept into Dick's face despite an apparent fight to restrain it, and again he stared at the small man in the chair. “And that you and Mr. Meredith are practi- cally of the same build ?". Tormented by unasked questions and by those 178 CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE “And—what else?” “That her own jewels, valued at twenty thou- sand dollars, were among those found in Herbert's possession when he was arrested.” The Thinking Machine turned and looked at the reporter, just casually, and raised his hand to his mouth to cover a yawn. “Well, she couldn't do anything else,” he said calmly. 180 CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE opened and The Thinking Machine, accompanied by Dollie Meredith and Stuyvesant Randolph, entered. “Mr. Hatch called yet?" inquired the scientist. “No," responded the detective. “Dear me!” grumbled the other. "It's one minute after twelve o'clock now. What could have delayed him?" His answer was the clattering rush of a cab and the appearance of Hatch in person a moment later. He came into the room headlong, glanced around, then paused. “ Did you get it?" inquired The Thinking Ma- chine. “Yes, I got it, but— " began the reporter. “Nothing else now," commanded the other. There was a little pause as The Thinking Ma- chine selected a chair. The others also sat down. “Well?" inquired the Supreme Intelligence at last. "I would like to ask, Mr. Mallory,” the scien- tist said, “if it would be possible for me to con- vince you of Mr. Herbert's innocence of the charges against him?" " It would not,” replied the detective promptly. CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE 181 “It would not while the facts are before me, sup- plemented by the statement of Miss Meredith here -her confession." Dollie coloured exquisitely and her lips trembled slightly. “Would it be possible, Miss Meredith,” the even voice went on, " to convince you of Mr. Her- bert's innocence ?" “I—I don't think so," she faltered. “I–I know." Tears which had been restrained with difficulty gushed forth suddenly, and The Thinking Machine squinted at her in pained surprise. “Don't do that," he commanded. “It's—it's exceedingly irritating. He paused a moment, then turned suddenly to Mr. Randolph. “And you ? " he asked. Mr. Randolph shrugged his shoulders. The Thinking Machine receded still further into his chair and stared dreamily upward with his long, slender fingers pressed tip to tip. Hatch 182 CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE knew the attitude; something was going to hap- pen. He waited anxiously. Detective Mallory knew it, too, and wriggled uncomfortably. “Suppose,” the scientist began, “just suppose that we turn a little human intelligence on this problem for a change and see if we can't get the truth out of the blundering muddle that the police have helped to bring about. Let's use logic, in- evitable logic, to show, simply enough, that instead of being guilty, Mr. Herbert is innocent.”' Dolly Meredith suddenly leaned forward in her chair with flushed face, eyes widely opened and lips slightly parted. Detective Mallory also leaned forward in his chair, but there was a dif- ferent expression on his face-oh, so different. “Miss Meredith, we know you were in the automobile with the Burglar who stole the plate," The Thinking Machine went on. “You prob- ably knew that he was wounded and possibly either aided in dressing the wound—as any woman would -or else saw him dress it himself?" CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE 187 "That's all tommy-rot,” Detective Mallory burst out. “ That's nothing to a jury or to any other man with common sense.” “That difference in measurement proves beyond question that Mr. Herbert was not wounded while in the automobile," went on The Thinking Ma- chine as if there had been no interruption. “Now, Mr. Cunningham, may I ask if the Burglar's back was toward you when you fired?" “Yes. He was going away from me.” “Well, that statement agrees with the state- ment of Miss Meredith to show that the Burglar was wounded in the back. Doctor Walpole dressed Mr. Herbert's wound between two and three o'clock Friday morning following the masked. ball. Mr. Herbert had been shot, but the wound was in the front of his right shoulder.” Delighted amazement radiated from Dollie Meredith's face; she clapped her hands involun- tarily as she would have applauded a stage inci- dent. Detective Mallory started to say something, then thought better of it and glared at Cunning- ham instead. “Now, Mr. Cunningham says that he shot the Burglar with this revolver.” The Thinking Ma- mazem CHAPTER VI STRANGE emotions all tangled up with turbulent, night-marish impressions scrambled through Dol- lie Meredith's pretty head in garish disorder. She didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Finally she compromised by blushing radiantly at the memory of certain lingering kisses she had bestowed upon upon—Dick Herbert? No, it wasn't Dick Her- bert. Oh, dear! Detective Mallory pounced upon the bullet as a hound upon a hare, and turned and twisted it in his hands. Cunningham leaned over his shoulder, then drew a cartridge from the revolver and com- pared it, as to size, with the bullet. Hatch and Mr. Randolph, looking on, saw him shake his head. The ball was too small for the revolver. The Supreme Intelligence turned suddenly, fiercely, upon Dollie and thrust an accusing finger into her startled face. "Mr. Herbert confessed to you that he was with you in the automobile, didn't he?” 189 190 CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE “Y-yes," she faltered. “You know he was with you ?” “I thought I knew it.” “You wouldn't have gone with any other man?" “ Certainly not !” A blaze of indignation suf- fused her cheeks. . “Your casket of jewels was found among the stolen goods in his possession ? " “Yes, but— " With a wave of his hand the Supreme Intelli- gence stopped explanations and turned to glare at The Thinking Machine. That imperturbable gentleman did not alter his position in the slight- est, nor did he change the steady, upward squint of his eyes. “If you have quite finished, Mr. Mallory," he said after a moment, “I will explain how and in what circumstances the stolen plate and jewels came into Mr. Herbert's possession." “Go on," urged Mr. Randolph and Hatch in a breath. 192 CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE Dollie nodded blushingly. “Now, Mr. Herbert did not go to the ball- why not I will explain later. Therefore, Miss Meredith recognised the real Burglar as Mr. Her- bert, and we know how they ran away together after the Burglar had stolen the plate and various articles of jewelry. We must credit the Burglar with remarkable intelligence, so that when a young and attractive woman—I may say a beautiful woman-spoke to him as someone else he im- mediately saw an advantage in it. For instance, when there came discovery of the theft the girl might unwittingly throw the police off the track by revealing to them what she believed to be the identity of the thief. Further, he was a daring, audacious sort of person; the pure love of such an adventure might have appealed to him. Still, again, it is possible that he believed Miss Meredith a thief who was in peril of discovery or capture, and a natural gallantry for one of his own craft prompted him to act as he did. There is always, too, the possibility that he knew he was mistaken for Mr. Herbert." Dollie was beginning to see, too. “We know the method of escape, the pursuit, CHAPTER VII HALF an hour later The Thinking Machine walked in, unannounced, upon Dick Herbert. The front door had not been locked; Blair was some- where in the rear. Herbert, in some surprise, glanced up at his visitor just in time to see him plank himself down solidly into a chair. “Mr. Herbert,” the scientist began, “I have gone out of my way to prove to the police that you were not in the automobile with Miss Mere- dith, and that you did not steal the gold plate found in your possession. Now, I happen to know the name of the thief, and ". "And if you mention it to one living soul," Dick added suddenly, hotly, “I shall forget my- self and—and " "His name is George Francis Hayden,” the scientist continued. Dick started a little and straightened up; the menace dropped from him and he paused to gaze curiously into the wizened face before him. After a moment he drew a sigh of deep relief. 198 202 CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE him and he was not at all certain that there would be anything left for him to cling to. This first impression was strengthened when The Thinking Machine introduced Doctor Walpole with an os- tentatious squint at Mr. Mallory. The detective set his teeth hard. The Thinking Machine sat down, stretched out his slender legs, turned his eyes upward, and ad- justed his fingers precisely, tip to tip. The others watched him anxiously. “We will have to go back a few years to get the real beginning of the events which have cul- minated so strangely within the past week," he said. “This was a close friendship of three young men in college. They were Mr. Herbert here, a freshman, and Harry Meredith and George Francis Hayden, juniors. This friendship, not an unusual one in college, was made somewhat ro- mantic by the young men styling themselves The Triangle. They occupied the same apartments and were exclusive to a degree. Of necessity Mr. unusu as ere CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE 203 Herbert was drawn from that exclusiveness, to a certain extent by his participation in football.” A germ of memory was working in Hatch's mind. "At someone's suggestion three triangular watch charms were made, identical in every way save for initials on the back. They bore a symbol which was meaningless except to The Triangle. They were made to order and are, therefore, the only three of the kind in the world. Mr. Herbert has one now on his watch chain, with his own initials; there is another with the initials' G. F. H.' in the lot of jewelry Mr. Mallory recovered from Mr. Herbert. The third is worn by Harry Mere- dith, who is now in Buenos Ayres. The Ameri- can Consul there has confirmed, by cable, that fact. “In the senior year the three young men of The Triangle were concerned in the mysterious disappearance of a valuable diamond ring. It was hushed up in college after it seemed established that Mr. Herbert was a thief. Knowing his own innocence and seeing what seemed to be an exclu- sive opportunity for Harry Meredith to have done what was charged, Mr. Herbert laid the matter COV n CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE 205 —the night of the masked ball at Seven Oaks- except that there had grown up a love affair be- tween Miss Meredith and Mr. Herbert. Natu- rally, the father opposed this because of the incident in college. Both Miss Meredith and Mr. Herbert had invitations to that ball. It was an opportunity for an elopement and they accepted it. Mr. Herbert sent word to her what costume to wear; she did not know the nature of his. “On Thursday afternoon Miss Meredith sent her jewel-casket, with practically all her jewels, to Mr. Herbert. She wanted them, naturally; they me probably planned a trip abroad. The maid in this house took the casket and gave it into Mr. Her- bert's own hands. Am I right?” He turned squarely and squinted at Dollie. “Yes,” she gasped quickly. She smiled dis- tractingly upon her father and he made some vio- lent remarks to himself. “At this point, Fate, in the guise of a masked Burglar, saw fit to step into the affair," the scientist 208 CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE seal COV Here is where we get a better understanding of the mettle of the real Burglar—George Francis Hayden. He went back and got the plate from Seven Oaks. Instantly that upset the second elope- ment plan. Then Mr. Herbert undertook the search, got a clew, followed it, and recovered not only the plate, but a great lot of jewels." There was a pause. A skyrocket ascended in Hatch's mind and burst, illuminating the whole tangled story. Detective Mallory sat dumbly, thinking harsh words. Mr. Meredith arose, went over to Dick Herbert, and solemnly shook his hand, after which he sat down again. Dollie smiled charmingly. JOM. CHAPTER VIII “Now that is what actually happened,” said The Thinking Machine, after a little while. “How do I know it? Logic, logic, logic! The logical mind can start from any given point and go back- ward or forward, with equal facility, to a natural conclusion. This is as certain as that two and two make four—not sometimes, but all the time. “First in this case I had Mr. Hatch's detailed examination of each circumstance. By an inspira- tion he connected Mr. Herbert and Miss Meredith with the affair and talked to both before the police had any knowledge at all of them. In other words, he reached at a bound what they took days to accomplish. After the second theft he came to me and related the story." The reporter blushed modestly. "Mr. Hatch's belief that the thing that had happened to Mr. Herbert and Miss Meredith bore am 209 212 CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE be achieved; therefore imagination is one of the most vital parts of the scientific brain. In this instance I could only imagine why Mr. Herbert was silent. Remember, he was shot and wouldn't say who did it. Why? If it had been an ordinary thief—and I got the idea of a thief from the in- vitation-card being in other hands than his/he would not have hesitated to talk. Therefore, it was an extraordinary thief in that it connected with something near and dear to him. No one was nearer and dearer to him than Miss Meredith. Did she shoot him? No. Did her father shoot him? Probably not, but possibly. A brother? That began to look more reasonable. Mr. Her- bert would probably not have gone so far to pro- tect one less near to her than brother or father. “For the moment I assumed a brother, not knowing. How did Mr. Herbert know this brother? Was it in his college days? Mr. Hatch brought me a list of the students of three years re reas 212 CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE be achieved; therefore imagination is one of the most vital parts of the scientific brain. In this instance I could only imagine why Mr. Herbert was silent. Remember, he was shot and wouldn't say who did it. Why? If it had been an ordinary thief—and I got the idea of a thief from the in- vitation-card being in other hands than his—he would not have hesitated to talk. Therefore, it was an extraordinary thief in that it connected with something near and dear to him. No one was nearer and dearer to him than Miss Meredith. Did she shoot him? No. Did her father shoot him? Probably not, but possibly. A brother? That began to look more reasonable. Mr. Her- bert would probably not have gone so far to pro- tect one less near to her than brother or father. “For the moment I assumed a brother, not knowing. How did Mr. Herbert know this brother? Was it in his college days? Mr. Hatch brought me a list of the students of three years CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE 213 before his graduating year and there I found the name, Harry Meredith. You see, step by step, pure logic was leading me to something tangible, definite. My next act was to see Mr. Meredith and ask for the address of his son-an only son —whom at that time I frankly believed was the real thief. But this son was in South America. That startled me a little and brought me up against the father as a possible thief. He was in Balti- more on that night. “I accepted that as true at the moment after some-er—some pleasant words with Mr. Mere- dith. Then the question: Was the man who stole from Mr. Herbert, probably entering his place and shooting him, masked? Mr. Herbert said he was. I framed the question so as to bring Harry Mere- dith's name into it, much to Mr. Herbert's alarm. MAINKAAT How had he recognised him as Harry Meredith ? By something he said or wore? Mr. Herbert re- plied in the affirmative—both. Therefore I had a masked Burglar who could not have been either 214 CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE Harry Meredith or Harry Meredith's father. Who was he? "I decided to let Mr. Hatch look into that point for me, and went to see Doctor Walpole. He gave me the bullet he had extracted from Mr. Herbert's shoulder. Mr. Hatch, shortly after, rushed in on me with the statement that Miss Meredith had admitted that Mr. Herbert had con- fessed to her. I could see instantly why he had confessed to her. Then Mr. Hatch undertook for me the investigation of Herbert's and Harry Meredith's career in college. He remembered part of it and unearthed the affair of The Triangle and the theft of a diamond ring... “I had asked Mr. Hatch to find for me if Harry Meredith and Mr. Herbert had had a mutual intimate in college. They had. George Francis Hayden, the third member of the Tri- angle. Then the question seemed solved, but Mr. Hatch upset everything when he said that Mr. Hayden was dead. I went immedi- ately to see Mr. Herebrt. From him I learned that, although Mr. Hayden was supposed to be dead and buried, there was no positive proof of it; the body recovered had been in the recover 216 CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE graph of George Francis Hayden as an occupant of an apartment. “Mr. Herbert and I searched the place. My growing idea, based on the established knavery of George Francis Hayden, that he was the real thief in the college incident, was proven when I found this ring there—the ring that was stolen at that time—with the initials of the owner in it." The Thinking Machine produced the ring and offered it to Detective Mallory, who had allowed the earth to slip away from him slowly but surely, and he examined it with a new and absorbed in- terest. "Mr. Herbert and I learned of the insurance fraud in another manner—that is, when we knew that George Francis Hayden was not dead, we knew there had been a fraud. Mr. Hayden has been known lately as Chester Goodrich. He has been missing since Mr. Herbert, in his absence, re- covered the plate and the jewels in his apartments. I may add that, up to the day of the masked ball, he was protected from casual recognition by a full beard. He is now clean-shaven." The Thinking Machine glanced at Mr. Mal- Lol. surance nner WT lory: 218 CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE arms al was ready for more, but Dollie impetuously flung her arms around the neck of The Thinking Ma- chine, and he—passed to his reward. “You dear old thing!” she gurgled. “You're just too sweet and cute for anything." “Dear me! Dear me!” fussed The Thinking Machine. “Don't do that. It annoys me ex- ceedingly." Some three months later, when the search for George Francis Hayden had become only luke- warm, this being three days before Miss Mere- dith's wedding to Dick Herbert, she received a small box containing a solitaire ring and a note. It was brief: CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE 219 In memory of one night in the woods and of what happened there, permit me to give this—you can't return it. It is one of the few things honest money from me ever paid for. BILL, THE BURGLAR. While Dollie examined the ring with mingled emotions Dick stared at the postmark on the package. “It's a corking good clew," he said enthusi- astically. Dollie turned to him, recognising a menace in the words, and took the paper which bore the post- mark from his hands. "Let's pretend,” she said gently—"let's pre- tend we don't know where it came from!” Dick stared a little and kissed her. w ww