The Argyle case Arthur Hornblow, Harriet Ford, William J. Burns, Harvey Jerrold O'Higgins [See 165 Hi) \CLZ1S~ j ^Wmh the Victory Book CawttttW ^ tte Armed Forces and Merchant Mftttat THE ARGYLE CASE THE ARGYLE CASE BY ARTHUR HORNBLOW FOUNDED ON THE PLAT BY HARRIET FORD AND HARVEY J. O'HIGGINS WRITTEN IN COOPERATION WITH DETECTIVE WILLIAM J. BURNS NEW YORK GROSSET & DUNLAP PUBLISHERS Published by Arrangement with Harper & Brothers COPYRIOHT. ISIS. BY HARPER « BROTHERS PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA published SEPTEMBER. 1913 H-N ILLUSTRATIONS "YOU'LL BE PROTECTED EVERY MOMENT. I WILL SEND YOU ONE OF THESE LITTLE DETECTAPHONEs" . . . FrontispitCt "HERE ARE HER EIGHT FINGER-PRINTS. GET BUSY, JOEl SEE IF YOU CAN GET THE THUMBS UNDER THE EDGE THERE" Facing p. 70 "JUST LAY YOUR FINGERS FLATLY ON THIS BLANK PIECE OF PAPER AND PRESS ON IT" "112 THE DETECTAPHONE INSTALLED IN THE COUNTERFEITERS' DEN "" 180 "GOOD-BY," SHE WENT ON, HER VOICE BROKEN BY WEEPING " 246 THE ARGYLE CASE A 'nothing to do with you if you disobeyed me. In spite of all I said you have deliberately defied me by marrying the girl. You must take the con- sequences. I disown you. You'll never get a penny of my money." John Argyle, his face purple with rage, his white hair and carefully trimmed whiskers bristling with anger, paced up and down the library of his palatial Fifth Avenue home, while a young man, barely in his twenties, his face pale but with lines of deter- mination about his smooth, sensitive mouth, stood by and listened. The winter afternoon was drawing to a close, and the rays of the setting sun, streaming through the stained-glass windows, bathed the artistic interior in a glow of rich, warm color. It was a picturesque room, tastefully furnished, with Pompeiian red the dominant note. The walls were all lined with books, the shelves and rest of the woodwork of black flem- ish oak, and the chairs of the same wood, uphol- CHAPTER I I warned you that I'd have i THE ARGYLE CASE stered in a red leather. Between the shelves, filled with handsomely bound tomes, was a door which led to the hall. On the other side the books ex- tended as far as a deep bay, opposite which was a large fireplace with dull-brass candelabra on the mantel and huge pine logs throwing out a grateful heat. In a cozy, well-lighted niche was a mag- nificently carved teakwood table, with telephone and nouveau art reading-lamp. On the opposite side another table was covered with a fabric so exquisite and costly that it might well have graced the collection of some connoisseur. On it was a confused litter of books, newspapers, and cigar- boxes. Several large, comfortable arm-chairs were scattered about, and on the floor one trod on a large, richly woven silk rug of a shade to harmonize with the general color scheme of the room. Conspicuous over the door was a large framed portrait of John Argyle. A truly beautiful room, conducive to rev- erie or study; but to-day its only occupants were too much excited to take particular heed of their surroundings. The situation was tense. A spark at any moment might bring about an explosion. There was a dif- ference of forty years and more between the two men, and it needed only a glance to see that they were father and son. When the elder had ceased his choleric tirade and relapsed into a sulky silence, interrupted only at intervals by a series of angry snorts that sounded like petty explosions, the younger man said, respectfully: "I don't ask you for money. I merely asked for what is mine. If I could get now some of the money 2 THE ARGYLE CASE my grandfather left me, it would help me to get a start in life. It is hard that I should have to wait until I'm thirty. I don't suppose I'll ever be able to earn enough with my art work. I intend to give up my studio. I want to go into business. I have an opportunity to buy a small interest in a Detroit automobile plant. They offer me a salaried position if I can furnish a little capital which will be amply secured. I have investigated the thing, and I'm anxious to get into it. I shall only be too glad to get away from New York." Bitterly he added: "Incidentally, it will relieve you of my unwelcome presence in this house." The elder man had continued pacing the floor like an infuriated lion, apparently paying not the slight- est attention to what his son was saying. The young man's closing sentence, however, had the un- fortunate effect of adding fresh fuel to the already raging fire. Stopping short and turning quickly, he shook his clenched fist in his son's face and thun- dered: "If you are no longer persona grata under this roof, whose is the fault? You have no one to blame but yourself. How have you repaid all I have done for you? I gave you every advantage. You've had a good education, a luxurious home, everything you could wish for. What return did you make for all this? You have taken pleasure—yes, sir, deliberate pleasure, in thwarting me at every turn. I asked only one thing—you knew well that my heart was set on it. It was the dearest/ most cherished wish of my life. For twenty years, while you and Mary have been growing up side by side, it was my fondest 3 THE ARGYLE CASE hope that you would one day marry. Instead of sympathizing with these plans, you have deliberately scorned them and set me at defiance by contracting a secret marriage." Bruce shrugged his shoulders as he replied, calmly: "You asked the impossible. You wanted me to marry Mary, but it was too late even had I loved her. My word was already given to another. Would you have had me throw Nan unceremoniously overboard just to further my own selfish ends? Besides, Mary has never cared enough for me to marry me. We've been brother and sister—nothing more. The idea of anything else never entered my head or hers. She has known all along how fond I am of Nan. When you first suggested the matter Nan and I were al- ready engaged. Surely you wouldn't have had your son play the part of a welsher." The argument was unanswerable, and Argyle, Sr., knew it, but all his life he had been accustomed to make laws for others, never to have them laid down for himself. What cared he about sentimental boy and girl promises when his heart had been set on seeing his only son marry the orphan of his old com- rade, a girl he had adopted as his daughter? When poor Masuret, deserted by his faithless wife, died some fifteen years ago and left little Mary in his care, he had promised him that one day she should marry Bruce. That anything else could happen had never entered his head. The idea that young folks should take their future into their own hands and arrange it to suit themselves was rank rebellion, deserving of fitting punishment. Unable to find words, he merely spluttered: 4 THE ARGYLE CASE "Love fiddlesticks! That's all moonshine! Mar- riage is based on something more substantial. You'll rue it. I'll teach you a lesson that you'll remember. Had you behaved yourself you would have succeeded me one day as head of Argyle & Co. Your con- duct convinces me that you are. not fit for any position of responsibility and trust. A firm of the importance of ours requires at its head a man of tact, intelligence, and sound judgment. These qualities you do not possess, and never will. You're a fool to your own interests, and always will be. I'm done with you. As you've made your bed, so you can lie on it. I'll give you a small allowance to keep you from starving, but that's all you'll get. I'm going to telephone to my lawyer right now. Mr. Hurley will come here to-day and draw up a new will leaving everything to Mary." All his life Mr. Argyle had acted on impulse. He always attributed his success to the fact that once he made up his mind he stuck to it, right or wrong. Crossing quickly to the desk, he picked up the re- ceiver: "Give me John 3486." While waiting for the number he glared at the young man, as if expecting him to make some protest; but Bruce, although a shade paler, remained calm. "Very well, sir," he said, "you know best. No doubt Mary will make better use of it than I. I'm sorry I've offended you. I did not do it to annoy you, although you seem to think so. That is absurd. I married Nan because I loved her. Mary never cared for me in that way." "Sentimental rubbish!" grunted the merchant, 5 THE ARGYLE CASE who in his forty odd years of money-grubbing had forgotten that romance and sentiment ruled the world. "Mary's too sensible a girl not to have accepted you, if you'd treated her right." The telephone buzzed. The old gentleman turned to the transmitter. "Hello—is that you, Hurley? This is Argyle— yes—I'm here at the house. I'd like you to come up to see me regarding a little business matter— about drawing a will. Yes—a new one. Oh, any time will suit me—this evening or afternoon. All right; make it this afternoon. I'll wait in for you. Good-by." Turning again to the young man, he went on testily: "Mary knew my wishes, and she would have respected them. But she saw your in- fatuation for that girl, and could do nothing—" The young man shook his head. "You are mistaken, father. You think you can manage affairs of the heart as you are accustomed to manage affairs of finance. It can't be done, and bigger men than you have failed. I don't blame you for getting angry at me." Bitterly he added: "We never got along any too well—you are never satisfied, always expecting the impossible. This has never been a home to me since poor mother died. I'll be glad to get away." Argyle, Sr., eyed his son narrowly and distrust- fully. They had never been friends. By nature cold and reserved, his attitude to his son had been that of a stern, exacting master who must be obeyed implicitly, no matter how preposterous the command. By nature a martinet and strict disciplinarian, im- patient, intolerant of argument, accustomed to rule (-, THE ARGYLE CASE and to be obeyed without question, he had resented his son's independence of spirit, and interpreted it rightly or wrongly as wilful defiance of his wishes and orders. There were times when he had wished things might be otherwise, when he could have clasped his son to his bosom and taken pride in planning out his future, but this last disobedience he could not forgive. It was unpardonable. It had completely shattered the one illusion he had left. If a shred of emotion had been excited in his breast at the mention of his dead wife, he managed to con- ceal it. His voice was hard and unyielding as ever as he asked: "Where are you going?" "I told you—out West." "You have no means." "No—that's why I came to you." The old man shook his head. "No, sir—not a cent. I couldn't if I would. That money is tied up until you reach the age of thirty. You are now only twenty-four. For six years to come you must either be satisfied to live under this roof or earn a living outside." The boy's face flushed. With spirit he replied: "Then I'll go out and earn it. I don't know at what. Like most rich men's sons, I'm not good for much. I don't know how to work, because I was never taught. But I'll get along somehow. I'll do anything as long as it's decent." For a moment the old gentleman looked at his son, and there was a look in his face as if he rather admired the boy's pluck. He made a gesture as if about to take him to his arms. But if he felt any 7 THE ARGYLE CASE such inclination the mood quickly passed. The boy had deliberately disobeyed him, made a mesalliance. He was hurt in his pride. That he could never for- give. Coldly he replied: "You must get along as best you can—I shall never forgive you." The young man turned to go. "Very well—if I go to the devil—it will be on your conscience. You're very hard and unjust, and in your heart you know it." The old man bounded. Wrathfully he retorted: "I know nothing of the kind. You alone are to blame. You've wilfully disobeyed me in this case, as in many others. You have never done anything I wanted you to. And now you've disgraced me by marrying a girl without social position and of whose people we know nothing—a disgraceful, degrading marriage I call it, and of which one day you yourself will be heartily ashamed." Until now the young man's attitude had been deferential, his manner that of a son who, no matter how he may differ with his father, feels in duty bound to listen respectfully to all he has to say. But when his parent so forgot himself as to attack the honor of the girl he loved, no filial consideration could longer restrain him. His face flushing with indignation, he burst out hotly: "That's a lie I My wife is as good as we are, every bit! Her folks may not have as much money as you have, but at least what they have they came by honestly, which is more than some of us can say." Is your money all as clean as it might be?" The question came direct and with all the force 8 THE ARGYLE CASE of a blow. To Argyle, Sr., it struck home like a thrust. He tried to answer, but his voice failed him. Speechless with rage, he could only gasp in his efforts to utter the words of wrath that would not come. Who better than he knew that his record would hard- ly bear inspection? John Argyle had always been a firm believer in the dictum: "Get money honestly if you can, but get it." Having found the task of accumulating a fortune honestly a difficult job, he changed his tactics and got rich as best he could. Starting life as a promoter, he picked up considerable money in shady real-estate deals. Branching out, he financed under- takings of various sorts, and was soon reputed very wealthy, and looked up to as one of the prominent men of the community. Later, he bought several thousand acres of cheap farm-land near a prosperous town and cleverly engineered a land boom. He bought a street-railway and bribed the city au- thorities to allow him to extend the lines where he would most profit by them, so that he had controlled even the natural growth of the city for his own advan- tages. Yet while he had succeeded in escaping any- thing more serious than popular condemnation for his part in corrupting the city government and looting the street-railway, the firm of John Argyle, Private Bankers, was considered one of the most prosperous and substantial financial institutions in the city. There were times, however, like the present when he was brutally reminded of the source of his money, and it never failed to infuriate him. The banker's face became purple. The rush of blood to his head made his veins stand out like whip- 2 9 THE ARGYLE CASE cord. He tried to speak, but the words stuck in his throat. Speechless, his mouth trying to splutter words that he could not articulate, he advanced threateningly on his rebellious offspring. At last, with an effort, he regained his speech. Wrathfully he exploded: "Don't dare give me the lie, sir—don't dare give me the lie! Or I'll have you booted out of the house by my butler. Don't let me have any of your in- solence. I've had about enough from you to-day. Get out of here—get out, I say!" His face livid, scarcely able to articulate from pent- up, ungovernable, unreasoning passion, he advanced toward his son, his hand clenched in threatening gesture, when suddenly the door opened and a young girl appeared on the threshold. CHAPTER II FOR a moment she stood irresolute, as if uncer- tain whether to enter the room, afraid that she might be intruding on some private tete-a-tete. She did not seem surprised to find the two men quarrel- ing; but a look of distress came over her face as her quick glance went from father to son, and she noticed the elder man's angry demeanor. Some- what ashamed that his ward should witness his ex- hibition of temper, Mr. Argyle said, hastily: "Come in, Mary dear. Are you looking for me?" For the time being the tempest was over. Bruce gave the new-comer a nod of welcome and shrugged his shoulders significantly while Mr. Argyle, now that his favorite had appeared on the scene, changed his mood completely. The hard, stern features re- laxed; his face broke into a smile. At a glance it was easy to see that this young girl, comparatively a stranger in his household, had done what his own flesh and blood had never succeeded in doing. She had won her way into the heart of this eccentric, querulous old man. It had not been an easy task, but Mary Masuret was no ordinary girl. Fair and slender, she barely looked her twenty years, although the serious, thoughtful expression of her face in repose made her at times appear older. Regular, almost classic fea- ii THE ARGYLE CASE tures, soulful, innocent-looking eyes, and a sensitive mouth, delicately chiseled, imparted a spiritual look to her face. She was not one of those modern, so- phisticated women whose voluptuous charms and easy morals seldom fail to attract men. Rather was she one of those old-fashioned, timid, shrinking natures who, by a strange contradiction, make a strong appeal even with men who have few illusions left regarding the romantic side of life. So long had she been an inmate of John Argyle's home that she had almost forgotten that she had known any other. Only on rare occasions when her adopted father alluded to the tragedy of her child- hood did she realize that she was not really of his blood. It was a sad story, and one that she pre- ferred to forget. Mr. Argyle and her father had been friends from boyhood. Unlike most men's early friendships that die out as each goes his way in life, this friendship had lasted. It was, indeed, the one redeeming feature in the life of John Argyle, a hard and not too scrupulous business man, that he had always felt a warm place in his heart for the old friend who had shared with him the uncer- tainties and trials of his early manhood. The Civil War broke out, and both were drafted to the same regiment, which saw real fighting at Vicksburg and Shenandoah. Together they shared the hardships and dangers of the long campaign until on the con- clusion of peace each resumed mercantile pursuits with varying success. Argyle married and pros- pered. Masuret also made a venture in the matri- monial market, but with less success. His wife, after giving birth to a daughter, left him, to run away 12 THE ARGYLE CASE with another man; and Masuret, deserted, died an embittered, miserable man. On his death-bed he sent for Argyle and confided to his old comrade his little daughter. That was how Mary became a member of the Argyle household. The banker advanced toward the young girl and, taking her hand in his, patted it caressingly: "Do you want me, dear?" he asked. "Yes, dad. I've been looking for you everywhere. I heard your voices in here. There's a man down- stairs. I don't know who it is. He wouldn't give his name. He said he knew you were at home and insisted on seeing you." Argyle, Sr., looked puzzled. Who could it be? He never transacted business away from his office, and he had always discouraged strangers calling. In fact, it was seldom that he was home at this time of day. "It isn't Mr. Hurley, is it? He could hardly have gotten up so quickly." Mary shook her head. "Oh no. I know Mr. Hurley. This man is a stranger. I never saw him before." The banker frowned. Going quickly toward the door, with an expression on his face as much as to say that he would make quick work of the intruder, he said: "I'll go and see what he wants. If Mr. Hurley comes let him wait for me in here." The next moment the library doors had closed be- hind the master of the house, and the young couple were alone. When she was sure that the old gentleman was 13 THE ARGYLE CASE out of earshot the young girl turned eagerly to Bruce. Anxiously she asked: "What's the matter?" The young man shrugged his shoulders. "Oh, the usual thing. We can't agree, and never could. This constant quarreling must stop. It's getting on my nerves. I'm going away—" "Going away?" "Yes, going away—" "Why? What's happened?" For a moment Bruce made no answer. How could he tell this girl, the companion of the happiest days of his boyhood, that she was the innocent cause of his being disinherited? Yet know she must, some day. If he did not tell her, others would. Finally he blurted out: "He's furious because of my marriage to Nan, and he's about to make a new will leaving everything to you. The young girl flushed and then turned pale. It made her happy that her future was assured, yet it pained her to think that another had been robbed of what she was to enjoy. Gently she said: "I don't want what is rightly yours, Bruce, and I shall tell your father so." The youth shrugged his shoulders. "It would do no good. Once he has made up his mind, all the forces this side of hell could not per- suade him to change it." "But surely matters are not so bad as that. In time he'll forget and you'll both be friends again." The young man shook his head. Bitterly he re- plied: THE ARGYLE CASE "No, Mary. This is the very end. I'm going away, and I sincerely hope I shall never see him again. I'm sorry to leave you, of course, but Nan and I have our own lives to live. I cannot remain here and retain my self-respect. I shall come to the house once more—possibly to-night-—to again insist on his giving me some of the money he has in trust for me. That will be the very last time I shall see him on earth. Even if he were willing to acknowl- edge my wife and be to me what a father should be to his son, it would make no difference in my opin- ion of him. I can never forget how he has treated me all these years. The very sight of him fills me with repulsion. I hate him! I detest him!" ♦ "Hush, Bruce dear. You must not talk that way. After all, he is your father. He—" Fiercely the young man interrupted her: "No, he's not. I deny it. It's impossible that such a man as that is responsible for my being. We haven't a single thought, a single impulse in common. He hasn't a decent instinct. He is well aware that I know where he got all his money. That's why he hates me. It's all tainted. I don't want any of it. I'm heartily ashamed cf him, and always have been. Many a time I've wished he were dead. Sometimes I have felt like strangling him myself—" The young girl raised her hand in quick protest. "Bruce!" He gave a hollow laugh. "Oh, don't be afraid. I've no desire to go to the electric chair yet." The young girl was silent. Her mind was all confused by the news of this unexpected windfall. i5 THE ARGYLE CASE Much as she regretted this rupture between father and son, she could not help realizing what the old man's decision meant to her. It seemed too good to be true that she, the poor, friendless orphan, was to inherit the wealth of John Argyle. Presently she asked: "Are you sure about his changing the will? I knew I was mentioned for a certain sum, but that I should get all seems incredible." The youth nodded. Bitterly he replied: "It's sure enough. He telephoned Mr. Hurley just now. The lawyer may be here any minute. He said he'd come right up. Hurley's just the right kind for the governor. If ever there was a rascal who deserved the hangman's noose, it's certainly he." The girl nodded. "I never liked Mr. Hurley myself. There's some- thing sleek and crafty about him. Do you think he will draw the new will to-day?" "Oh, they may draft it to-day; but then it has to be properly drawn up. I don't suppose it will be ready for signature before to-morrow night, and when my father once signs it that is the end. He is very dogged and obstinate. He'll never change it." The young girl shook her head protestingly. Starting forward and grasping the young man's hand, she exclaimed, warmly: "No, Bruce—I will not permit it. No matter what your father does I will see to it that your rights are protected. What do you care whether you in- herit by will or receive it from me? Do you think for a moment that I could enjoy his money, knowing '16 THE ARGYLE CASE I had deprived you of it? No matter what your father's will says, you will get it just the same." Making a quick bound forward, Bruce clasped her in his strong arms, and his voice trembled with emo- tion as he said: "I knew you'd say that, Mary. You always were a brick. But I refuse—absolutely. I cannot, I will not accept your sacrifice. I don't want his money. I won't touch a penny of it. Money that's inherited seldom brings good luck, anyhow. It's ruined many a good man. It sha'n't ruin me. I'll go out into the world and make my own money, and I assure you that it will be cleaner than his. It wasn't the money I cared about so much as the un- fair way in which he has treated me." Mary was silent. Her heart was beating fast. Thoughts crowded fast one upon the other in her brain. She the mistress of the Argyle millions! It was too good to be true. She was sorry, of course, for Bruce; but, after all, her conscience was clear. She was not the cause of the rupture. On the con- trary, she had done everything possible to restore amicable relations. If the banker did not leave his fortune to her, it would probably go to some hospital. She would be less than human if this totally unex- pected news did not thrill her and fill her with a strange sensation of exaltation. Then a sudden dread seized her. Suppose her benefactor should again change his mind, and take a sudden dislike to her as he had done to his son. With such a pe- culiar man everything was possible. Both were silent, each distrustful of the other, stirred by different emotions, vaguely antagonistic, i7 THE ARGYLE CASE the one's heart full of hate and bitterness at the cruel injustice done him, the other elated by the unex- pected good fortune which had befallen her. Finally Mary broke the silence: "So you are determined to go away?" He nodded. "Yes; as soon as possible. I can't go without means. He must let me have some of grandfather's money. He refused just now, but I'll come and see him again to-morrow. He must do that. I'll make him." The young girl hesitated. Finally she said, timidly: "Won't you let me lend you some? I have a few hundred dollars that I've saved up." He shook his head. "No; I wouldn't think of it. Grandfather left me that money, and father must advance me some of it. I'll make him—" "How can you make him if he refuses?" "I'll—" Before the sentence could be completed there was a commotion in the outside hall. The library door was suddenly thrown open, and the housekeeper rushed in, disheveled, and in a state of considerable excitement. Startled at her appearance, they start- ed forward. "Whatever is the matter, Mrs. Wyatt?" "Oh, my dear! Such perfectly dreadful things as happen nowadays! It's perfectly shocking and in- credible—really outrageous! I don't know what we're coming to. The police, of course, are to blame. You know what I .mean. They ought to be well » i3 THE ARGYLE CASE all night. Such things get on one's nerves. You know what I mean?" "But what is it?" demanded Mary. "Our next-door neighbor has been robbed!" "Robbed!" echoed Bruce and Mary together. Only too glad of an opportunity to give her tongue free rein, Mrs. Wyatt again burst out: "The Wilkinsons, next door. They went to the opera last night, and Mrs. Wilkinson wore that mag- nificent diamond tiara which her husband gave her recently for her silver wedding. You know the one I mean. It's perfectly regal. It's always been my dream to have a tiara like that, but they're hardly for a woman in my position. One has to have every- thing else in proportion. You know what I mean—" "Yes, yes," interrupted Bruce, testily; "but what about the robbery?" Mary smiled. The housekeeper's loquaciousness was something they had all suffered from for years. There was no use hurrying her. She had to tell a story in her own way. With an indignant glance at the interrupter, Mrs. Wyatt proceeded: "When they returned from the opera Mrs. Wil- kinson took off the tiara and placed it temporarily in a jewel-box on her bureau. She distinctly remem- bers doing that. It was too late to open the safe. She was too sleepy to remember the combination, so she thought it would be all right there till morn- ing. Of course, it was a most unwise thing to do. Opportunity makes the thief, as the French say. You know what I mean?" "Yes, yes," groaned Bruce. "Well, when she awoke in the morning the tiara 20 THE ARGYLE CASE was gone. Some one had entered the bedroom while she and her husband were asleep. Only the tiara was taken. Money, rings, and other valuables were untouched. The thief, whoever he was, knew just where the tiara was to be found, and went away satisfied with that. Well he might. It's worth at least ten thousand dollars. Mrs. Wilkinson, poor woman, is completely prostrated. I think it is one of the servants, but so far the police have made no arrests. Mr. Wilkinson has sent for Kayton. He'll solve the mystery." "Kayton!" exclaimed Mary, who had been an in- terested listener. "Who's he?" "Asche Kayton, the well-known detective," ex- plained Bruce, quickly. "He's extraordinarily clever. They call him the new Sherlock Holmes. He's never yet failed in getting his man." "Just so," went on the housekeeper; "that's what everybody says. If Mr. Kayton can't find the thief nobody can. I only hope there's no scandal con- nected with the case. One never can tell. You know what I mean." Mary did not know, and was about to ask further questions when the butler entered. "Mr. Hurley has called, Miss, to see Mr. Argyle. He has an appointment." Bruce gave the young girl a significant glance, but she was so busy listening to the servant that she did not notice it. Hastily Mary said: "Show Mr. Hurley in here, Finley, and inform your master that he has arrived." The butler withdrew, and the young girl turned to the housekeeper. 21 THE ARGYLE CASE "We had better leave the library to dad and his lawyer. They have business to talk over." Bruce extended his hand, which the young girl clasped in silence. "You won't go before I see you again," she mur- mured. He shook his head. AH his life, since his earliest boyhood days, he and Mary had been chums. He did not intend to let anything come between them now. It was not her fault if she was the favorite. He wished her all the happiness and luck there was in the world. With a smile he said: "No, I won't say good-by now. I'm coming to see father again. I'll see you to-morrow night." CHAPTER III "TF you'll wait a moment in here, sir, Mr. Argyle * will join you immediately." The obsequious butler made a low bow and ushered into the library a tall, heavily built man who walked with a quick, nervous stride. Dressed in a frock- coat, patent-leather shoes, drab gaiters, and silk hat, he looked prosperous, although the cut of his clothes and his manner of wearing them did not quite sug- gest the gentleman. Handing the servant his hat and cane, and flinging himself into an easy-chair, he said: "Yes, I'll wait. I'm in no hurry. Your master expects me." The butler withdrew, and Mr. James T. Hurley, counselor at law, sat down and carelessly picked up a newspaper. But it was plain that the visitor's mind was not on the printed page. His eyes, small and black like those of a ferret, wandered restlessly over the room, as if taking a mental inventory of each object it contained, and at times he raised his head and listened intently. He had a nervous trick of tapping one foot constantly on the floor, and every now and again he would turn round quickly in his chair as if expecting to find some one at his elbow. Jim Hurley was one of those lawyers, shrewd, 23 THE ARGYLE CASE crafty, unscrupulous, who enter the profession not so much to interpret and enforce the law as to evade it. No one knew much about him except that he was a self-made man and came originally from the West. Having some ability as a speaker, and un- usual skill at cross-examination, he had built up a fair-sized practice. He boasted openly that he had only one ambition in life—to get rich, and to him a dirty dollar was every bit as attractive as a clean one. This philosophy had enabled him to secure remunerative work of a kind usually shunned by reputable attorneys, and brought him in close touch with a lot of very questionable people. Accused several times of sharp practice, the Bar Association on more than one occasion had threatened dis- ciplinary proceedings, but nothing had come of it, and, quite indifferent to public opinion, he had gone his own way. The fact that he lived in better style and spent more money than the amount of business done would seem to justify led many to believe that he enjoyed a private income, but from what source no one had the slightest idea. He was a good deal of a mys- tery, a reserved, secretive kind of man that no one liked. Practically his only friend was John Argyle, who was also his best client. No one could explain why the banker had taken up Hurley when there were so many more capable and reputable lawyers to be had; yet the fact remained that they were on the closest terms of intimacy, and that no one was better acquainted than Mr. Hurley with the busi- ness and family affairs of the eccentric millionaire. The lawyer did not have long to wait. In a few 24 THE ARGYLE CASE , "Then what do you advise?" "I would leave him a small sum, in trust if neces- sary, so that he could not say that he had been for- gotten. Your will would be the stronger for it." "Very well. We'll put aside a certain sum—say fifteen thousand dollars—to be left in trust, and from which he is to receive each week the income. At his death the principal shall go to some hospital that we will decide upon. I also name you as trustee." Hr. Hurley bowed, and there was a crafty smile hovering about the corners of his mouth as he said: "Thank you, sir, I am much honored. Might I suggest something in regard to the trust?" "What is it?" "It is usual for trustees to be put under bond by the state to insure their carrying out faithfully the provisions of the will. It is sometimes inconvenient for trustees to furnish such bonds. It would be in my case. If that were necessary I would rather de- cline the honor you confer on me." The millionaire waved his hand. "That's all right, Hurley. You and I have been doing business together too long for me not to trust you. Put in the will that no bond is required." "Yes, sir—thank you." The promoter watched the lawyer closely while he drafted the will. Presently he asked: "When can you have it ready for the signature?" "To-morrow—if agreeable to you." The millionaire nodded. "That suits me. Will you bring it here?" "Yes; I don't quite know when. I may have it 26 THE ARGYLE CASE ready to bring it up in the afternoon, or I may run up with it in the evening." "Very well; I'll expect you." Mr. Argyle rose from his chair as if he considered the interview at an end, but Mr. Hurley did not stir. The lawyer had not yet terminated all the business that had brought him there. Yet he hesi- tated to speak out what was on his mind. His client was not an easy man to handle. That he had often discovered to his own discomfiture. Finally he blurted out: "Mr. Argyle, there is still a little matter I wish to talk over with you. You can probably guess what it is." The millionaire turned and looked sharply at his caller. "What is it, Mr. Hurley? Out with it!" Testily he added: "You know I never like to beat about the bush." Thus encouraged, the lawyer spoke up. Boldly he said: "We need more money." The promoter's face darkened. If there was anything that would put John Argyle in a bad humor, it was the mention of money or the ap- prehension that he was about to be approached for a loan. A man of a suspicious nature, he had a fixed idea that every one had designs against his pocket-book. "Money?" he grumbled. "You're always want- ing money. What did you do with that last two thousand? You got it only a week ago." Mr. Hurley gave a cautious glance round as if to 27 THE ARGYLE CASE make sure that the door was shut before he an- swered: "It takes a lot of money to run the business. The plates have to be made and new presses purchased, all with the utmost secrecy. The specially woven paper is also very expensive. We can't expect to reap unless we sow. You're enough of a business man to know that, Mr. Argyle." The millionaire frowned as he snapped: "I'm not a cow to be milked, Mr. Hurley." "If there's no milk to be had, you can't expect to get any cream, Mr. Argyle." "I don't expect any cream," rejoined the promoter, testily. "You know perfectly well that I did not go into the affair to make money. It was the novelty of the thing that appealed to me more than anything else. It isn't often one gets a chance of getting even with the government." The lawyer leaned forward. In a dramatic under- tone he said: "That's why you must help us. You have gone too far to draw back now." The millionaire clenched his teeth. Doggedly he said: "I'll go no further than I choose. I've had enough, I tell you." "It's too late, Mr. Argyle. You are as deeply involved as the rest of us. If our plans fail for lack of capital, and the government Secret Service agents get wind of our plans, there is no telling what might happen. You don't want it known that John Argyle is a promoter of counterfeit money, do you?" 28 THE ARGYLE CASE "Damn you! Shut up! Do you want my ser- vants to hear?" The millionaire, his face livid with rage, sprang for- ward, and going to the door, opened it quickly to see if any one was listening. Finding no one, and reassured, he returned to where the lawyer was sitting. "Is this blackmail?" he demanded, contemptu- ously. The lawyer's face assumed a grieved expression. Rising, he replied: "Mr. Argyle, I had hoped that our relations in the past had been such as to make it impossible for you even to imagine such a thing of me. I asked you for money because Kreisler told me he must have it if he is to get the new notes out. He has exhausted all his own resources. I have exhausted mine. We need at least five thousand dollars." "You won't get it!" replied the old man, dog- gedly. "I've had my fun, and it's cost me a pretty penny. This is where I stop for good. Your secret is safe with me, but no more money. You must find another capitalist to finance you." Hiding his disappointment as much as he could, the lawyer bowed politely. "Very well, Mr. Argyle. Of course, you are at liberty to retire from the partnership whenever you see fit, but one can't help wondering why you came in at all unless you were willing to see it through." The old gentleman chuckled. "It is simple enough. I joined your counterfeit- ing gang partly because I had a grudge against the government for making me pay one hundred thou- 29 THE ARGYLE CASE sand dollars' fine on a shipment not properly de- clared, and partly because I enjoyed the fun. It was as good a way of spending my money and getting some excitement out of life as any other. I began here as a speculator in real estate in boom times. In my land deals I capitalized the future earnings of this town, as you might say. You understand, of course, a town lot has no value except what comes to it from the industry and success of the citizens of the town. I capitalized the future earning power and production of these citizens—overcapitalized it —and they are still working to pay interest on that interest, if you understand what I mean." The lawyer, deeply interested, bowed and listened intently to this self-denunciation of a man who had no shame in confessing how he had prospered by preying on his fellow-men. Certainly this Argyle was original. It was something new in his experi- ence to find a millionaire risking many years in state prison merely to enjoy the dubious amusement of helping in the manufacture and circulation of counterfeit money. Mr. Argyle continued: "I put into my own pocket the public increment on huge blocks of land here—money that, in its final aspect, belonged to the city itself. Then I purchased the street-railway, another property that had no value except such as was given to it by the industrial and commercial success of the city. And I over- capitalized this, too, so as to collect at once upon the future of the city, and I sold out the stock and put that money also to my credit. In this case I had to use some of the money to purchase civic officials who would otherwise have defended their 30 THE ARGYLE CASE electorate from exploitation. And in doing so I was only doing what 'promoters' make a business of doing generally in this country, you under- stand?" The lawyer nodded, lost in admiration at this financial genius who so well understood the act of turning crooked politicians to his own advantage. Mr. Argyle proceeded: "Then I went into loans—collecting upon the commercial distress which my previous operations had helped to create. I bought a controlling inter- est in several industrial companies, and reorganized them—sometimes by means of a sales company—in such a way that all the profits of the industries came to us and the original stockholders received only a small income on their investments. These operations are quite common. Men are performing them to-day in every city, perhaps, in the country. Why should we draw the line at promoting counter- feiting?" Mr. Hurley smiled. The conclusion was logical enough. Looking up, he said: "Would you mind telling me how a man in your position and of your standing came to meet Fried- rick Kreisler, the famous counterfeiter?" "That was curious," replied the banker, smiling reminiscently. "Some months ago I began to dream continually of being in a locality that was quite un- familiar to me. I could not in my waking moments remember ever having seen it. Yet it became ex- traordinarily vivid in my mind from these dreams. Last month I had occasion to go to a town where we were reorganizing a gas and electric company that 3i THE ARGYLE CASE wanted a new franchise to supply light and power. And one day, as I walked away from my hotel, I recognized the street. I could have told you the names on the shop signs before I came to them. I remembered particularly the gilt lettering on the plate-glass windows of a bank. And when I came to a hitching-post in front of a hardware store it was a metal figure of a negro boy holding up a tie-ring— I recollected that there should have been a man waiting for me with his hand on that post. That was the way we had met in my dreams. He was not there. I went back again in the evening, but he was not there. On the following morning, as I approached, I saw him. I went up to him and said: 'You are looking for me?' "He replied that he was looking for some one with money who would be willing to back him in an enterprise in which there would be large re- turns. "I explained that I was evidently the man he wanted, since I was a promoter by profession. He made an appointment to call on me at my hotel. And he came. "He told me then that he was an engraver; that he had worked hard all his life, honestly, and had re- mained poor; that he had been reading much about modern business methods, and had concluded that he, too, had a right to use his ability to make money regardless of the honesty of the means. He pointed out to me that in selling watered stock I had really been selling a sort of counterfeit stock certificate. He argued, too, that we would do no one an in- justice by issuing counterfeit money, since, as long 32 THE ARGYLE CASE as it was kept in circulation, it would be worth its face value. If a man suspected it he could pass it on to some one else, just as he would with stocks. He was very convincing. Then he sent you to me. You used further arguments. You know the rest. I finally agreed to finance your scheme." Mr. Hurley laughed loudly. "It's been a splendid partnership. You the back- er, Kreisler the engraver, I the business head. We got out as fine a ten-dollar bill as ever deceived a bank-teller, and distributed it in large quantities all over the country. It was a golden harvest." "A harvest I didn't participate in," interrupted the millionaire, dryly. "I let you and Kreisler en- joy the profits. All I wanted was the fun." The lawyer looked glum. "Yes, it was good while it lasted, but money made so easily is soon spent. Kreisler has gone through every cent of his. He's living in the great- est poverty with that woman." Mr. Argyle nodded. "Poor Masuret's wife. She never was much good, but I was never able to see what induced her to de- sert her husband for a man who has spent a con- siderable part of his life in state prison." Hurley shrugged his shoulders. Dryly he replied: "It's easy to understand. Women love a dash of romance. Her life with Masuret had been ex- ceptionally humdrum. Kreisler suddenly appeared upon the scene. He was handsome, picturesque, quite the opposite of her commonplace husband. At that time Kreisler was flush. She couldn't resist him. They have been together ever since." 33 THE ARGYLE CASE "Where are they now?" "In a bare attic on the top floor of an East Side tenement—hiding from the police. Kreisler is des- perately hard up. He is working hard on his new bill. If he succeeds in putting it out we'll all be flush again. But to complete the job he must have money." The millionaire shook his head. "Not from me!" he said, determinedly. "I'm done with it for good." Mr. Hurley's face darkened as he leaned forward and exclaimed: "You can't leave us in the lurch now. We won't be trifled with like that. You must help us." The old gentleman elevated his eyebrows. "Must, Mr. Hurley? Surely that's a strong word to use." "Not stronger than it should be, Mr. Argyle," re- joined the lawyer. "You ought to realize our posi- tion. Don't drive us to extremes." The millionaire looked keenly at his companion. "Is this a threat, Mr. Hurley?" s The lawyer laughed loudly as he rose. With re- newed good humor he exclaimed: "Threats between two such friends as you and me, Mr. Argyle! That would be ridiculous. Well, don't let us talk of money matters now. Think it over and see what you can do. Meantime I'll go back to the office and have the new will drawn up. I'll see you again to-morrow night. Good-by." The millionaire nodded carelessly. "Good-by. You can bring me the will to sign; 34 THE ARGYLE CASE but if I were you I'd look elsewhere for funds for Kreisler." The lawyer laughed. As he reached the door he again turned round and said: "Think it over, Mr. Argyle; think it over. I'll see you to-morrow night." CHAPTER IV PRACTICAL, up-to-date methods have shat- tered many old - time traditions and brought about astonishing modifications in the manner of doing business in all kinds of industrial enterprises; but nowhere has the change been more apparent, more startling than in the personality and working system of the modern detective. The days of Lecocq, Gaboriau, Gorin, and other world-famous thief-catchers are past. No longer does the sleuth resort to the clumsy expedient of dyeing his hair, wearing fierce-looking whiskers, and assuming other elaborate disguises in order to shadow an unsuspect- ing quarry. All the picturesqueness, all the romance of the detective business has gone forever. The successful detective of to-day is essentially a shrewd, hard-headed business man. His success is the result of sound judgment, hard work, and, above all, a special aptitude for his calling. In investigating criminal cases he uses the same systematic, practical, common-sense methods as are found in the manage- ment of any important commercial house. Another shock awaits the visitor when curiosity or necessity takes him to the headquarters of the progressive*- up-to-date detective. Instead of a small, dimly lighted room, such as his vivid imagina- tion has conjured up, with mysterious doors, sinister, 36 THE ARGYLE CASE dusty-looking archives, and green-baize desk heaped high with dockets of sensational cases, he beholds spacious, comfortably furnished offices, no different from any other, with telephones ringing, a number of neat-looking female stenographers busy typewriting, clerks going in and out amid all the bustle and activity of the average place of business. Asche Kayton, the famous detective, occupied al- most an entire floor on the top of one of Broadway's newest sky-scrapers. It was a big place and cost a pretty rental; but it was none too big to handle the extraordinary amount of business done by this world- famed sleuth, whose name was a terror to criminals and a household word in every home in the country. The files alone of newspaper clippings and portraits —a veritable rogues' gallery—necessitated floor space equal to three large rooms. In the large outer reception-hall clients awaited their turn to consult the detective, and off this was a smaller office marked "Private," where the chief saw his callers. Other offices were for the use of the clerical staff and operatives. The general furnishings did not differ in >any marked degree from other business offices of the same size. About the only thing that might suggest to the visitor the nature of the business done were a number of frames on the walls containing finger- prints carefully labeled and dated, and copies of police handbills giving descriptions of criminals wanted. If the offices were always busy, and the clerks and operatives kept going at high pressure, there was little wonder at it. Every one who had a knotty 37 THE ARGYLE CASE problem to unravel, a difficult clue to follow, a mys- tery to solve, brought it to Asche Kay ton. "Never- Fail Kayton" people called him, and it was a reputa- tion that had been built up gradually during over twenty years of continued success, mostly in the employ of the Secret Service of the United States. The son of a tradesman, Kayton was trained for a mercantile career, but he had little taste for business, showing greater preference for police work. Soon he became intensely interested in the detection of crime. When only twenty years of age he made a close study of detective methods, and, convinced that they were all wrong and obsolete, devised a system of his own, the efficacy of which he soon found an opportunity to put to a practical test. He was successful in a number of difficult cases which had completely baffled the local police, and before long every one was talking about Kayton's wonderful skill in tracking criminals and solving mysterious murder cases. The government heard of his success and offered him inducements to join the Secret Ser- vice. In this new position he made a brilliant rec- ord. For years his skill and ingenuity were pitted against the cleverest and most dangerous counter- feiters and forgers in the country. He proved him- self more than a match for them all, tracking them from city to city, upsetting their most carefully laid plans, and finally landing them behind prison bars. He made possible the prosecution of the graft scan- dals in New York City; he ferreted out the truth about the land frauds in Florida and Michigan; he waged a merciless war on all police corruptionists, railroad thieves, and bribe-taking legislators. When 38 THE ARGYLE CASE the entire country was horrified by the dynamite outrages, Asche Kayton went on the trail of the dynamiters, and did not rest until he had captured them all and secured their conviction. In personal appearance no one could possibly sug- gest a detective less. A man still in the early forties, curly-haired and muscular, jovial and good-humored, he looked more like a genial and prosperous business man than a professional detector of crime. There was always a good-natured expression on his face, and his manner was easy and friendly. He liked to chat and exchange jokes with whoever he met, yet the close observer did not fail to notice something hard and unyielding in those mild, gray eyes, now twinkling with fun. The lines about the mouth were firm and determined, and every now and then there came into his face the expression of a man who never lets up and cannot be shaken off once he has hit what he thinks the right trail. His life had often been in danger; but he laughed at all threats, believing that every criminal is at heart a coward. He did not know what the word fear meant, yet for all that he did not fail to take due precautions. He was always armed with a re- volver, and he kept a good lookout. He was never ofF his guard, and he had the unusual gift of being able to size up a man from the distance. The only way to have killed him would have been to attack him from the rear. When complimented on his success and questioned about his system, he replied that it was very simple. "The practice of my profession," he said, "like the practice of law or medicine, is the practice of com- 39 THE ARGYLE CASE mon sense. The detective's success is the result of straight thinking, good judgment, hard work, and an aptitude for the business. There are no mys- teries—every criminal leaves a trail behind him. It is the detective's ability to see and follow traces so slight that others do not perceive that counts for much in his success. The average clever criminal is overtrained. In trying to avoid detection, he be- comes abnormally cautious, and so betrays himself. In one of the land-fraud investigations I found one of the men lying. By every apparent indication the statement was truthful. I felt he was lying. He overtrained himself—he told a little too much. The next day I told him just where he lied, and the whole truth came out. The detective, to be a success in his profession, must not recognize any obstacles. If you come to a stone wall there must be a way around. Frame up a situation that will get you around or over." Once, after Asche Kayton had succeeded in making an important arrest, a news- paper printed his portrait with the heading: "The Man Who Never Failed." The underworld laughed in derision, but only for a time. The crooks soon learned to respect and fear this remarkable man who held the astonishing record of never having failed in any case that he had undertaken. This morning the Kayton offices were busier than usual. The typewriting machines were rattling along at full speed, several telephone-bells were ringing simultaneously, there was a perfect pande- monium of slamming doors and voices. A young clean-shaven man, of slight physique, but with an unusually intelligent face and alert eye, entered 40 THE ARGYLE CASE quickly from Mr. Kayton's room, the glass door of which was marked "Private," and addressed a heavily built man who was seated at one of the desks, glancing over some papers. "Seen anything of the chief yet, Nash?" The man looked up. "Not yet, Joe. I'm waiting to give him my dope on that Wilkinson diamond job. It's a cuckoo, take it from me—as fishy a yarn as ever I was handed out." Dressed in a faded blue - serge suit with tan waistcoat, striped shirt, yellow buttoned shoes, a Masonic watch-fob dangling from his pocket, and a huge paste diamond in a tan-colored tie, the speaker looked the typical cheap drummer. No one, at a casual glance, would have taken him for one of the most highly trained, shrewdest sleuths on Kayton's staff. This style of get-up—commonplace and vul- gar—was part of Kayton's system. He considered the old style of costume for detectives obsolete and all wrong. He insisted that if his men wore heavy shoes, a black tie, and sombrero hat they could be spotted a mile away, while if they dressed like an every-day street loafer they passed unnoticed in the crowd. Joe grinned. With an air of superiority he chuckled: "Say, weren't you onto that bunch? Directly I heard of the robbery, I knew it was phony. The old woman's a bridge fiend, and has lost heavily on the ponies. The only way she could raise money was to sell her diamonds, and make a holler. Why didn't you ask me?" Nash shook his mustache ruefully. 4 41 THE ARGYLE CASE "You think you're smart, don't you? I guess you'd still be out fine-combing the pawn-shops if the chief hadn't put you wise. He worked it out all right. Say, ain't he a wonder?" Joe's eyes twinkled, and an expressive whistle escaped from between his thin lips as he exclaimed enthusiastically: "Is he? Well, I guess. He's the slickest thing you ever saw. I sometimes wonder if he's human. Nash, I do believe that Kayton can see through a brick wall and read what people think even when they refuse to open their mouths. I pity any crook once Kayton gets on his trail. He might as well make up his mind at once to take his medicine like a man." Joe Manning was nothing if not enthusiastic. Although the youngest sleuth on Kayton's staff", he had earned quick promotion, displaying such nerve and sagacity in all emergencies that the chief finally awarded him the supreme prize for merit—making him his personal assistant. This meant not only more salary—a consideration Joe cared little about— but the one thing the young man most craved for. It became his duty to be in constant attendance on his employer. When Kayton himself went out on a case, Joe always accompanied him; when the chief had office work to transact the faithful Joe mounted guard at a desk close by, and one might as well have tried to break into the Bank of England as get to Asche Kayton, until Joe gave permission. "What's keeping him this morning?" growled Nash, chafing at being kept indoors on such a fine day. 42 THE ARGYLE CASE "Search me!" rejoined Joe, carelessly. Turning to another man who at that moment entered the office, he called out: "Say, Leishman, did the chief expect to be late this morning?" Augustus Leishman, manager of the Kayton office, might well have been mistaken for a clergyman, so clean-shaven and benevolent-looking was he in appearance. A man of about fifty, he was bald, lean-cheeked, thin-lipped, and wore a low collar and black string tie. He was suave and discreet to a degree, and these two qualities, indispensable in a man of his position, had, in fact, won him his present position. He smiled blandly as he replied: "No, Mr. Kayton said nothing to me. I suppose he'll be here any minute." The words were hardly out of his mouth when the gate in the outside corridor slammed loudly. The next instant the office door was thrown open and a tall, energetic-looking man entered like a whirlwind. It was Asche Kayton, the world's most famous detective. Nodding good-humoredly to his waiting subordi- nates, the chief crossed the outer office with a stride and, pushing open the door marked "Private," went in, closely followed by Joe. The room where Kayton received his clients was large and well lighted. It had two doors: one leading to the office of Mr. Leishman, the manager, the other giving access to the outer office and the hall. Near this latter door was a small desk used by Joe, not necessarily for real work, but it sometimes suited Kayton's purpose to have a witness present when talking with visitors; and his assistant, while pre- 43 THE ARGYLE CASE tending to be very busy at his little desk in the corner, never failed to keep his ears open. The chief's desk, in the center of the room, looked businesslike. It was covered with papers and letter-files, and wire baskets heaped high with opened letters and tele- grams. Two telephones, one long-distance, the other for the office, were within reach, and a system of electric push-buttons communicated with the operatives and every other department. In case of trouble with some cantankerous individual Kayton only had to push a button to get immediate help. Conspicuous among the general litter on the desk, and significant of the nature of the business done by the office, were a pair of steel handcuff's, while over Joe's desk were several framed finger-prints. "Good morning, sir," smiled the assistant. "Morning, Joe. How goes it?" The young man grinned. "We were beginning to worry about you, Chief. One never knows what you're up against. Since those dynamiters threatened your life we're really scared. Nash has the report on the Wilkinson diamond case for you." Kayton chuckled. "Wilkinson case! Why do we want to be wasting our talent on such child's play as that? We'll soon be after bigger game, Joe." There was something in the chief s voice that made the young man look up quickly. Kayton's mouth twitched and his eyes sparkled as they always did when something exciting was at hand. It always reminded Joe of the quivering of a high-bred horse about to start upon a race, only in this case the 44 THE ARGYLE CASE horse was a detective and the prey a criminal trying to evade justice. Something very important had happened, that was evident. Nothing less could have disturbed his superior's equanimity. "Yes, sir?" he said, discreetly. It was a tradition in Kayton's office that no one should ask a direct question. The chief flung himself down in his swivel-chair at the desk and glanced hurriedly over the pile of telegrams. For a moment there was complete silence broken only by the ticking of the clock and the distant cries from the street of newspaper venders hoarsely calling "Extra!" Kayton suddenly pricked up his ears. "Joe," he exclaimed, "do you hear that?" The young man listened. Skeptically he replied: "You mean the 'extra' they're calling? Usual fake, I wager." Kayton shook his head. "Not this time, Joe. Where have you been these two days? The papers have been full of it. There's been a big murder. It has made a tremendous sen- sation in this town." Joe looked up, an interested expression on his face. "A murder, sir? I hadn't heard of it. I've been out of town for a week. What murder?" "Old man Argyle. He was found strangled and shot to death in his library!" "You don't mean John Argyle, the banker?" Kayton nodded. "Yes, I do. He was killed at three o'clock Friday morning." 45 THE ARGYLE CASE Headquarters. Let them hustle. These things in- terest me, because it's in my line of business, but really it's none of my funeral." The younger man shook his head sagely. "Not yet, maybe, but it soon will be. The police will do nothing, and they'll come to you." As he spoke the telephone - bell rang. Kayton picked the receiver up from his desk and put it to his ear. "Hello. Yes, this is Mr. Kayton—Asche Kayton —yes. Mr. Bruce Argyle—oh yes! Police done nothing. I'm not surprised. Could I take up the case? Yes—I suppose I could. Let me see, what's your address? Very well, I'll be right over. Oh, by the way, Mr. Argyle, will you please see that nothing is disturbed in the room till I come. Yes— that's the idea. It's my way of doing business. I'll be right over. Good-by." The chief put down the receiver and turned to Joe with a look of triumph. "What did I tell you? The police are pin-heads. They've done nothing. The son wants me to take it. Maybe a clever bluff on his part. Anyhow, here goes!" Rising from his seat, he exclaimed: "Come, Joe, get your hat and bring your finger- print layout along. It's up to us to solve the biggest murder case on record!" CHAPTER V THE blow had fallen upon the Argyle home with the force and suddenness of a thunderbolt, and the servants and other members of the household were still under the first shock of terror and con- sternation. Without warning, grim tragedy had stalked through the house. The inmates had gone as usual peacefully to bed, only to be confronted the following morning with a scene of horror. It was Mr. Finley, the butler, who first missed his master, and a half-witted boy named Andy, who helped in the kitchen, who discovered him lying dead in the library. Mr. Finley, who spoke with a slight Irish brogue and wore the long mutton- chop whiskers which tradition demands of every self - respecting majordomo, had been in Mr. Ar- gyle's service for over thirty years. He was now nearly sixty, but carried himself with dignity, as became a domestic who had served only in the best houses. He was a trusted retainer even when Bruce was born, and as the years rolled by he had diplo- matically made himself so indispensable to his aged employer that his position in the household was more that of a friend than a servant. Conscious of his own importance, he had bitterly resented the addition of Mrs. Wyatt to the family circle, yet con- ceded that the adoption of a daughter called for 48 THE ARGYLE CASE special services, feminine in kind, which he himself was incompetent to perform. He had grown fond of Miss Mary, who had a way of winning her way in every one's affections, but his relations with the housekeeper were always painfully strained. Fights occurred almost every day, and if there was a lull in the hostilities the most that could be said was that each side had called a temporary truce. Jealous of all authority save that of his master, Mr. Fin- ley assumed airs of the greatest importance, and bullied the under - servants until they were more afraid of him than of Mr. Argyle. The discovery of the midnight tragedy came upon the butler as a crushing, overwhelming blow, first because he had lost a good and liberal master, sec- ondly because it wounded his vanity that such a dreadful crime should have been possible with him close at hand to prevent it. It was his custom to knock at his master's door every morning at eight o'clock. He did so as usual that morning, but got no reply. He knocked again and, still receiving no response, feared that Mr. Argyle might be ill, and decided to enter. To his surprise, he found the room empty and the bed intact, showing that it had not been slept in. Anxiety gave way quickly to genuine alarm. Not knowing what to think or do, he pro- ceeded to do the very thing he should not have done. He hurried to Miss Mary's room and said he feared something serious had happened to his master. The young lady turned pale—he recalled that distinctly afterward — and it seemed to him that her voice trembled when she told him that he had better go and look through the house. Not for a moment 49 THE ARGYLE CASE expecting to find what awaited him—if he had he would never have gone—he went down-stairs and was suddenly startled by being confronted by Andy, who, his face white as chalk, his hair disheveled, and eyes protruding, gasped: "Quick—in there—he's dead!" Not realizing for the moment what the lad was saying, but with a vague feeling of uneasiness, he groped his way into the darkened library and, more by force of habit than anything else, threw open one of the shutters of the big bay-window. This done, he was stepping back when his foot caught in some- thing lying on the floor, and he nearly stumbled. He glanced down and fell back in fright. There on his back, fully dressed, but his hair disheveled, his clothes in disorder, his face livid, tongue protruding, was his master. All about were chairs and bric-a- brac overturned, rugs disarranged as if there had been a brief, desperate struggle. The terrified butler did not stop to investigate further, but ran breathlessly back to Miss Mary's room to tell her what he had seen. Never would he forget the expression on the young girl's face. If she herself had committed the deed, she could not have looked more agitated. Her face went white as death. He thought she was going to faint. "In the library!" she exclaimed. How did she know it was the library? He had not said so. He noticed, too, that her eyes were red and swollen from weeping, that she was fully dressed, and that her bed, too, was undisturbed. He remembered all these details very clearly afterward, and, realizing they might prove damaging to his young mistress, tried to forget them, 50 THE ARGYLE CASE but the police have such a way of asking questions that it's very difficult to hide anything. It was absurd, of course, to think that a young girl had anything to do with it. What motive could she possibly have? Mr. Argyle had always been kind to her, no matter what he had been to his son and his servants. Could it be Andy himself or that footman they discharged a month ago, when they discovered he had a prison record? Certainly he was a good-for-nothing rascal and capable of any- thing. Yet it could not be he, for his motive would have been robbery, and apparently nothing had been touched. Even the big diamond ring on the dead man's finger had not been taken. Was it Mr. Bruce? He did not love his father any too much. Many an angry scene between them had nearly ended in blows. But Mr. Bruce could easily prove an alibi. Had not he himself let his young master out at ten o'clock? Mr. Argyle was still alive long after that. Of all murder cases one ever heard this certainly was the most mysterious. No wonder the police and detectives were entirely at sea. Meantime nothing must be touched in the library. Those were the orders of Mr. Kay ton, the celebrated de- tective, who now had charge of the case. Kayton or no Kayton, they must air the room and let a little daylight in; so with a lordly gesture Mr. Finley summoned Topp, the footman, to help him. But Topp, a thin, clean-shaven cockney, and always a miserable coward, did not relish the job of going so near the scene of the crime, and it required con- siderable pushing and prodding from Mr. Finley, who Si THE ARGYLE CASE brought up the rear, to make him enter the room. The butler, with a pleasing sense of his own im- portance, dragged the reluctant Topp behind him. Sharply he said: "Ye're to draw the curtains an' air the room, d'ye hear?" The shivering footman cast a terrified glance around the dark room. Still lagging behind, he asked, fearfully: "Do I do it alone, Mr. Finley? Or do I 'ave 'elp?" The butler looked at his subordinate with the utmost contempt. "What ails ye, Topp?" The man snickered nervously. "The same thing that's hailin' you, maybe." Again drawing back, he exclaimed, defiantly:" I hain't goin' alone into the bloomin' tomb." Mr. Finley shrugged his shoulders, and his face took on a distressed expression, as it always did when his subordinates showed any disposition to question his authority. He did not feel any too comfortable himself, but took care not to show it. Evidently, in this case he himself would have to set a good example. Stroking his side whiskers to gain courage, he pushed the footman aside and scornfully he said: "Aw, ye're worse than the wimmin! What's to hurt ye here? Come on wit' ye." Making a brave plunge into the room, he went directly toward the large bay-window with the object of throwing up the shades. Topp, his eyes still averted, followed, treading gingerly on tiptoe. 52 THE ARGYLE CASE It was so dark that it was only with the greatest difficulty that the butler found his way. Suddenly he stumbled over a chair, which went crashing to the ground. The terrified Topp gave a little scream. "What's that?" he exclaimed, his hair on end. "It's only a chair." Topp breathed more freely. Apologetically he said: "I hain't the sort of bloke who sticks at a thing; but I don't fancy a room where 'orrors 'ave 'ap- pened." The butler rolled up the whites of his eyes. Piously he exclaimed: "Mister Argyle was as good a master as ivver lived. Why sh'u'd ye be afeard o' the place where he died?" The footman made a grimace. "'E may 'ave been a good man, Mr. Finley—but 'e died an unnatural death." Arrived at the recess, the butler lost no further time in argument, but threw open the windows, let- ting in a flood of light. Losing patience with the footman's cowardice, he said, sharply: "Ye may be called upon to do worse things than open the windies on the scene of a murder—God willin'—" As he spoke the door from the hall opened, and Bruce entered. The footman did not see who it was. He only heard the sound of footsteps, and, convinced that the dead man had come back to life, he started back in horror. "That's 'im!" he exclaimed, and before the in- dignant Mr. Finley could stop him he bolted for the door and dashed out. S3 THE ARGYLE CASE Bruce looked after the footman with surprise. Turning to the butler, he asked: "What's the matter with the fellow?" Mr. Finley shrugged his shoulders. "It's his nerves, sir. He's got a fear o' the room." He began to pick up the fallen chairs; but Bruce, who was glancing uncomfortably round the room, quickly stopped him with a gesture. "Don't touch anything until Mr. Kayton comes." "The detective, sir?" "Yes, the detective." Having satisfied himself that everything had been left as it should be, the young man went back to the door and spoke to some one waiting outside in the hall. "Are you there, Nan?" "Yes," came the rejoinder. "Will you come in here, please?" In the doorway appeared an attractive, fashion- ably dressed young woman who paused apprehen- sively on the threshold, as if afraid to advance farther. Was she maid or matron? It was im- possible to guess at first glance. About twenty years old, she was petite and dainty, one of those women who know how to dress in good taste on a slender income, and who look well no matter what they have on. Halting near the door, she peered timorously around. In an awe-stricken whisper she asked: "What are you doing in here, Bruce?" "Mr. Kayton has just 'phoned me to see that nothing is touched in this room until he comes." 54 THE ARGYLE CASE lating and finding credence in the newspapers. Even he, the dead man's son, was not above sus- picion. He felt that. People looked distrustfully at him in the street. He heard whispers as he passed. Conscious of his own innocence, he did not care. He could stand the slanderous gossip. He would be at hand whenever they wanted him. But that poor girl, his foster-sister! It was horrible to think that her name, too, had been dragged in. Slowly he answered: "If Kayton finds out enough to clear Mary, that's all I ask." The young wife approached him and laid a hand gently on his shoulder. Sympathetically she ex- claimed: "Oh, Bruce dear, nobody believes Mary or you had anything to do with it!" "Nobody that knows us, of course! But what about the people that read the newspapers and don't know us? How is Mary?" Nan hesitated a moment before she answered. "She's so strange, Bruce. She hasn't said a thing about your father since I came. She simply won't speak of it." "That's not surprising. Mary never talks about the things that are way down deep with her." "And your father liked her for that, didn't he?" The young man nodded. "Yes, he could quarrel with me, but he couldn't ever get a rise out of Mary. She'd just simply keep quiet—and get her own way with him. He never forgave me for refusing to marry her, but he never quarreled with her for refusing me." 56 THE ARGYLE CASE Nan smiled. "I'm glad she refused," she said, gently. Bruce put his arm around her. "She understood about you, Nan, from the first— and she was doing everything she could to help us with him. But you know how obstinate he was!" Bitterly he added: "Now he's dead we're not much better than we were before. There's no doubt that he executed the new will. Indeed, Mr. Hurley has told me as much." Lovingly, the young wife put her arms around his neck. "Don't worry, Bruce dear. I prefer it that way. At least you'll know it isn't your money I care for, but you yourself. You'll make your own money. You'll be a success; I feel you will." The young man embraced her in silence. They were so engrossed that they did not notice the door open and some one enter until they heard a discreet cough behind them. Turning quickly, they saw Mrs. Wyatt. The housekeeper tripped lightly toward them. Her manner gushing and fussy, she said, apolo- getically: "Excuse me. Good morning, Mr. Bruce. I didn't know you were here. Finley tells me that Mr. Kay ton, the detective, is coming." The young man nodded. "Yes; I want you to give him all the assistance in your power. Nothing must be touched here. He has—" But she did not let him finish. In her explosive fashion she burst out: 5 57 THE ARGYLE CASE "I think you're perfectly right. I mean to say those police detectives aren't getting anywhere. We don't know any more than we did at first!" "We soon will, though," replied Bruce, confidently. "This man Kayton is a perfect wonder. He'll find some clue that all the police detectives have missed." Turning to his wife, he added hastily: "I've got to go now, Nan. The lawyers have sent for me. But I'll be right back." Kissing the young woman lightly on the cheek, he hurried out of the room. For a few moments after his departure the two women sat and looked at each other without speak- ing, Nan glad enough to be alone with her thoughts, realizing painfully as she did that it was she who had been the cause of the tragedy. But it was a physical impossibility for Mrs. Wyatt to remain quiet. The terrible crime had sobered her to some extent, but her tongue could not be curbed for any great length of time. Chafing under the long silence, she could finally not stand it any longer. Suddenly she burst out: "This house has been my home for twenty years —ever since Mary was taken into the family—but it never will be again. I mean to say I never could feel at home in a house where there'd been a murder. I suppose I'm peculiar, but it doesn't make any difference whether the room is opened or locked up, I can't go by without feeling it. Do you know what I mean? I suppose Mary'll sell the place. Have you heard her say anything about it?" Not wishing to encourage the housekeeper to discuss family matters, the young woman answered 58 THE ARGYLE CASE only in monosyllables. Shaking her head she said: "Oh no." But the voluble Mrs. Wyatt was not to be put off so easily. "Well, what do you think of that will?" "I think it is very unjust," replied Nan, decisively. The housekeeper shook her head in sympathy. "Yes, Mr. Argyle certainly was a very strange man. I don't want to say anything disagreeable about the dead, but it's hard to understand how a man could cut his son off without a cent and leave a fortune to a girl who's in no way related to him. Nan shook her head. Confidently she said: "I don't believe Mary will let that will stand." The housekeeper shrugged her shoulders. Her lips tightened, and her voice sounded harsh and bitter as she said: "I'd say that, too, if I didn't know human nature as well as I do. Mary's a dear girl, but money changes people." "Not Mary," interrupted Nan, warmly. "I mean to say, take a perfectly fair-minded person, like Mary, generous to a fault, and you never can tell what money will bring out in theirjjj—do you know what I mean?" Before the young wife could answer there was a knock at the door and the butler entered. With an air of offended dignity, he said, pompously: "Mrs. Wyatt, that detective has come." The housekeeper rose, an expression of annoyance on her face. More detectives? For the last forty- eight hours the house had been overrun with them. 59 THE ARGYLE CASE Really, they got on a woman's nerves with all their impudent questions. What good were the police? They were no closer to the murderer than they were at first, and this man Asche Kayton would probably be just as stupid as all the rest. Still, if the family wished it, it must be done. Resignedly she said: "Mr. Kayton—oh—well—I suppose you'd better bring him right in here, Finley." "Very well, ma'am," snapped the butler, viciously. He retired, and Nan went hastily toward the door. "Hadn't we better go?" she said. The housekeeper nodded, and also rose. "Yes—yes. I don't want to see him. I mean to say I've seen detectives enough during the past forty-eight hours to last me for the rest of my life. They're such horrid, inquisitive people. You know what I mean." The two women hastily left the room, closing the door behind them. A minute later the butler re- entered, followed by Mr. Kayton and Joe. CHAPTER VI THE detective's first step was to go to the win- dows and throw up all the blinds. Then he stood still, in contemplative silence, his experienced eye going carefully over every detail of the room, noting the position of each piece of bric-a-brac and furniture. Joe, meantime, approached Mr. Finley, who stood by, an expression of offended dignity on his sleek face, resenting this invasion of the premises and meddling by men who were not even regular police officers, but outsiders who did it only for money. As if there was any chance of success with such a low, mercenary class of people as that! "I suppose the police and detectives from head- quarters have mauled everything about? Or is this the way the furniture was found?" asked Joe, sharply. The butler eyed the speaker scornfully, taking him in from head to foot. Haughtily he replied: "Nothing was disturbed on this side. Every- thing was as you see it." Pointing to the right, he added: "But on this side everything was helter- skelter just as it is now." Joe gave his chief a questioning glance. "I wonder how that happened?" The butler chuckled. He had his opinion of 61 THE ARGYLE CASE these so-called detectives. Sarcastically he re- torted: "If you knew that and had your supper, you could go to bed." The assistant smiled grimly. Turning to the but- ler, he asked, dryly: "You're Irish, ain't you?" Kayton, who had been watching them with some amusement, laughed outright. Approvingly he ex- claimed: "Joe, you're a great detective!" Addressing Mr. Finley, he added: "Tell me, my man, has anything been touched here since the night of the murder?" Offended at the shocking familiarity with which he was addressed, the butler shook his head haughtily. "I can't tell you," he replied, sullenly. Kayton looked at the man searchingly. Was he hiding anything? Did he know more than he was willing to admit? He would soon find out. One of his favorite methods was a process of elimination. Each member of the household was under suspicion and subject to cross-examination until he was satis- fied that he or she had nothing to do with the case. Sharply he said: "The body was lying on this side of the room?" "That's as maybe," replied Finley, doggedly. Joe nudged him in the ribs. Warningly he said: "Say, you'd better open up. You may get the chair in this case yourself yet." The butler glared at the interrupter. Thorough- ly aroused and reckless of what he said, he retorted, savagely: 62 THE ARGYLE CASE "I'll will you me wits, then. You'll be needin' 'em." Kayton drew his assistant aside. "I'll fix him," he whispered. "What's his name?" "Finley." The chief leisurely removed his coat, as if about to get busy. Then, turning to his aid,he said,carelessly: "Joe, go and bring Mr. Finley in here. He's the man to help us." "That's Mr. Finley," replied the assistant, point- ing to the butler. Kayton turned to the butler as if greatly sur- prised. "Are you Mr. Finley?" "I am," answered the butler, drawing himself up. The detective laughed. Good-humoredly he ex- claimed: "Why didn't you tell us that at first? I am well aware of your confidential relations with the house- hold and your late master, Mr. Finley. The family has always spoken in the highest terms of you. I need your help. You're in a position to be of great assistance to us." Flattered more by the detective's manner than his actual words, the butler's bosom swelled with pride. More affably he said: "Well, sir, I'll tell you one thing—I want to be right candid. I don't take much stock in detec- tives." Kayton nodded approval. "You're quite right," he laughed. "They're a bad lot." Quickly he added: "What have you got against them in particular?" 63 THE ARGYLE CASE The butler frowned. Indignantly he said: "Men with so little intelligence as to try and put suspicion on such a young girl as Miss Mary—as innocent and harmless a young woman as ever lived. I've no patience with such scoundrels. They'll get no assistance from me in that kind of work, or from any other honest man." Kayton nodded. "You're quite right, Mr. Finley. The innocent must be cleared and the guilty brought to justice. That's why we're here. Now tell us the facts as you know them. You found the body?" The butler shook his head. "Yes—sir—that is, I missed the master. I knocked at his door in the usual way, but he did not answer. I was alarmed and opened the door, thinking he was ill or something. When I saw the bed hadn't been slept in I was still more alarmed. No sign of the master. I went to Miss Mary and told her—" Kayton interrupted him. "Oh, you told Miss Masuret?" "Yes, sir." "What time was it?" "About eight o'clock, sir." "Was Miss Masuret up?" "Yes—sir. She came to the door fully dressed." "Fully dressed." "Yes, sir." "Was it usual for Miss Masuret to be dressed so early?" "No, sir. I've never known her to be up so early before." 64 THE ARGYLE CASE "What did she say?" "She was very nervous. Her face was white, and she was all agitated. I thought she was ill." Kayton paused and made quick mental notes. The adopted daughter, chief beneficiary under the will, was agitated on being informed of the murder. That was only natural. But she was fully dressed at a very unusual hour of the morning. This cer- tainly would bear investigating further. Turning again to the butler, he went on: "Oh, you found her so pale and agitated that you thought she was ill, and she was completely dressed at eight o'clock in the morning?" "Yes, sir." "Had her bed been slept in?" "I did not notice, sir." "What did she say?" "She didn't know what to say. I went down- stairs and was just wondering what to do when suddenly the man, Andy, ran into me. 'He's dead!' he cried. 'Stark dead on the floor in there!' 'Who's dead?' says I. 'Mr. Argyle,' says he—" "Who's Andy?" demanded Kayton. "Dan Scully's boy." "How long has he been here?" "Time out of mind—nearly as long as myself." "What does he do?" "He makes himself useful where I tell him to. He's a simple soul." "Send for him," commanded Kayton, sharply. While Finley was ringing the bell he inquired: "Who else was in the house?" "Myself; Miss Mary; the girl, Kitty; Topp, the 65 THE ARGYLE CASE footman; and the cook. Mrs. Wyatt was away; Mr. Bruce, Mr. Argyle's son, was here for dinner that night, but went away early." Kayton looked up quickly. "Did you see him go?" he demanded. "I did not. By eleven o'clock I made fast for the night—with Mr. Argyle sittin' in here and Miss Mary in her room up-stairs." Before the detective could put further questions the door opened and the housemaid entered the room in answer to the bell. Addressing the butler, she said: "Did you ring for me?" "Yes, Kitty. Bring Andy here." "Yes, sir." She left the room, and Finley turned to the de- tective. Shaking his head sagely, he said: "How them that did it got in, that's the thing for you to learn, sir. But when they had done it, they went out the hall through the front door, for in the morning I found the small chain off and the bolt drawn, and let me tell you this, sir—there's nothin' but wickedness in this doubt of Miss Mary." While he was speaking a shock of red hair was thrust inside the door as if the owner were afraid to let more of himself be seen. But with a peremptory gesture the butler motioned him to advance. "Andy, come here!" The youth entered, dragging his unwilling feet along with a timid, frightened shuffle. He was tall, ungainly, and loose-limbed, and had on a blue-denim workman's blouse. His face and hands were grimy, his mouth wide open in a grimace of terror. His eyes, 66 THE ARGYLE CASE dilated with fear, were fixed on the detective. Spurred by more threatening gestures from Mr. Finley, he advanced slowly into the room, uncon- sciously making an effort to conceal his tatters and improve his appearance. Suddenly he came to a halt and waited. Kayton, who had been watching the lad narrowly, carefully noting every fleeting change of expression, turned to Finley, but his eyes were still fixed on the shivering lad as he asked: "Andy came first to you?" The butler nodded. "He did, and it was I that told Miss Mary. When we found he was dead she got Mr. Bruce here straightaway and the doctors, and they the police, and from that it began—trouble without end. Re- porters, photographers—" Kayton turned abruptly to the trembling boy. "Andy, did you hear anything in the night?" Paralyzed by fright, the lad gave no answer. Kayton repeated the question. "Andy, did you hear anything in the night?" Looking up in an awe-stricken way, he shook his head. Slowly he stammered: "No—no." "Trust him to hear anything," laughed the butler, derisively. His eyes still riveted on the youth, Kayton de- manded: "What time did you go to bed?" Fidgeting about with his feet, Andy looked help- lessly at Mr. Finley, who finally had pity on him and came to the rescue. "Bless you, sir—he don't know. He don't live by 67 THE ARGYLE CASE the clock. He goes to bed by habit and gets up by habit." Kayton made another careful survey around the room, and then turned to the butler. "Is the furniture as it is now pretty much as you found it?" Andy, shaking like an aspen leaf and anxious to escape, nervously took hold of the butler by the arm. Shaking him off, Mr. Finley exclaimed, impatiently: "Go along with you!" Answering the detective's question, he said: "Yes, sir; all wheeled about every which way. Nothin's as it should be. He made a hard fight to defend himself—God help us!—before they put death on him." "Where was the body?" The butler pointed to where Joe was standing. "There, where your man is." Indicating another corner, he added: "And the pistol was yonder." "Was he lying on his back?" The butler nodded. "On his back, to one side, with the table-cloth clutched in his hand." Turning to the still trembling helper, he said: "Andy, lay yourself down there and show the officer. Go on! Go on!" Frightened out of his wits, yet still more afraid to disobey, the lad started to get down on the floor when suddenly he sprang up again with a grimace. "Not me," he cried; "there's bad luck in it!" Kayton made an impatient gesture of dismissal. He had seen enough to convince him they were only wasting time examining such a witness as that. "Never mind," he said; "you can go now. That's all for the present." 68 THE ARGYLE CASE The youth did not need telling twice. With a skip and a hop he was out of the room. Kayton now went to the table, and, taking up one end of the cloth, he said: "You say this cloth was dragged from the table?" "About half-way, sir—and some books on top of him." "When was this cover put back?" "That's hard to say, sir." "It may be very important." The butler scratched his head, as if trying to re- freshen his memory. Hesitatingly he said: "Well, I remember I was straightening up the room when one of the doctors came in. He stopped me till the coroner should come; but I had already put back the cloth and those three books." "Has it been touched since?" "It has not—not so much as dusted." Kayton nodded approval. Then, consulting a little memorandum which he carried in the palm of his hand, he said: "I want to see the footman, Mr. Finley." The butler shrugged his shoulders. "He'll be unwillin' to come, sir." Kayton looked at him sternly. Firmly and de- cisively he said: "Finley, I want to see the footman." "Very good, sir." The butler went out with alacrity and closed the door behind him. Directly he had disappeared Kayton made a quick gesture to his assistant. "Come, Joe; let's see if we've got anything on the table." 69 THE ARGYLE CASE Hurrying to the table, they carefully lifted off the cloth. "Be careful of that cloth!" warned the chief. "Have you got your powder?" Joe nodded, and, taking a tube of powder, sprinkled it carefully all over the top of the table. When the surface was completely covered Kayton stooped and blew the powder all off. Then, quickly, he leaned over, magnifying-glass in hand, to see if there were any marks. Shaking his head, he said: "Nothing there—try over here. Looks like a cold trail. Hello! Here's something!" Examining closely with the glass the upper end of the table, he exclaimed: "A woman has been holding on here with both her hands." "It might have been Miss Masuret," whispered Joe. "She was sitting down. It's very plain. Here are her eight finger-prints. Get busy, Joe! See if you can get the thumbs under the edge there." "All right, governor." Quickly the assistant went to work to secure the finger-prints, arranging a pocket camera to take photographs when the powder had brought out the marks on the table with sufficient clearness. He was still busy at work, while his superior was ex- amining the furniture at the other end of the room, when suddenly the library door opened and Mrs. Wyatt entered. Considerably nettled that the detectives should have proceeded with the investigation without even taking the trouble to consult her, the housekeeper 70 THE ARGYLE CASE you do; but I suppose you know a great deal. Oh, I'm so disappointed. You don't look at all like a detective." He smiled, and, coming down to where she was standing, offered her a chair. "I'm sorry to disappoint you. Some of us try to look like gentlemen. Won't you be seated, Mrs. Wyatt? When did Mr. Argyle adopt Miss Masuret?" "Mary? Why, I don't know. She was just a little thing. I don't believe she was more than six, but I really don't know much about it. I mean to say, I wasn't there. It was in San Francisco, you know. Mr. Argyle and Mr. Masuret were the dear- est friends." "What was Mr. Masuret's first name?" "I think it was James. Yes, I know it was. It was James." "What became of her mother?" "Oh, she died there." "In San Francisco?" "Yes. I really don't know much about her. Her maiden name was Marsh—Nellie Marsh." "Nellie Marsh, eh?" exclaimed Kayton, in a tone that caused Joe to look up. At a gesture from his employer the young man took out a memorandum and made a hasty note of the name. Mrs. Wyatt smiled amiably as she went on gush- ingly: "That's all I can tell you. I really don't know how I remember that. As I said, I've never heard much about the mother, except that there was some scandal about her." 72 THE ARGYLE CASE Kayton looked up quickly. "Scandal? In what way?" "I really can't say. Mr. Argyle never could be persuaded to talk about her. It was entirely on account of Mr. Masuret that he became interested in Mary." "Entirely?" "Oh yes—entirely." The detective was silent for a moment; then abruptly he asked: "How long have you lived here?" "Oh, many, many years—" "As long as that?" he smiled. Hastily checking herself, she stammered in some confusion: "I mean to say it must be sixteen—ever since my husband died. I'm a widow—do you know what I mean? I'm a very old friend of the family, and when Mr. Argyle adopted Mary he felt that he must have a woman in the house." Kayton bowed as if he was in complete sympathy with the idea. Suddenly he demanded: "Tell me, Mrs. Wyatt, how were the relations between Mr. Argyle and his son?" Forgetting for the moment who she was speaking to, she exclaimed: "Now, doctor—I beg your pardon." "Beg the doctor's," he smiled. She laughed lightly as she rattled on. "I mean to say, Mr. Kayton—that's something I don't like to talk about. It was the only thing we had to make us unhappy. Do you know what I mean? Bruce and his father never seemed to agree 6 73 THE ARGYLE CASE about anything. Why, the last time they quarreled he cut him off and left everything to Mary. We didn't any of us know it till yesterday. It's too bad to have Bruce left without anything. He's an artist, you know, and of course artists can't make anything with their art. I mean to say, if they don't have money they never get anywhere, unless they're famous or something, and that doesn't happen very often—do you know what I mean? That night, Mary tells us, there had been a reconciliation. It's too bad it came too late to have him fix over his will. Mr. Hurley says he executed it the very night he was killed." "Mr. Hurley?" exclaimed the detective. "Yes; Mr. Hurley's his lawyer." "Oh yes, yes, of course." Again Mr. Kayton took a mental note. Mr. Hurley saw the banker the very evening he was murdered and had a talk with him about drawing up a new will. He knew this man Hurley by name. His reputation was not of the best, but perhaps he would be able to throw some light on the old man's attitude toward his son and the feelings of Bruce toward his father. Decidedly, Mr. Hurley was worth an interview. Mrs. Wyatt, gratified at last that she had suc- ceeded in saying something that seemed to interest the detective, continued: "Mr. Hurley will be here himself presently. I telephoned him and told him that Bruce and the executors had put the case in your hands, and that you were here. You know things were getting terri- ble. The newspapers—why, they don't seem to care THE ARGYLE CASE at all what they say—do you know what I mean? Mary's prostrated. Why, they might as well accuse me of murder as Mary! Of course, I'm positive it was burglars—do you know what I mean?" The detective rose and paced the floor. With a shade of impatience in his voice he said: "Yes, yes; I'd like to see Miss Masuret." Taking the hint, Mrs. Wyatt moved nervously toward the door. As she reached it she turned and said: "Oh—well—I don't know—I mean to say—if you want to, I suppose you must. I'll go right to her now." Turning on her heel, she tripped out of the room as lightly as she had come in. CHAPTER VII NEVER-FAIL KAYTON rubbed his hands with satisfaction. So far, so good. Everything was going as well as he could wish. He had examined several of the servants to whom suspicion might attach, and was thoroughly convinced of their in- nocence. The process of elimination had begun. He had learned at least two things that might lead to important clues: one was that Miss Masuret did not go to bed on the night of the murder; the other that Mr. Hurley, the lawyer, had an inter- view with the banker that evening and consulted him about changing his will. Still another find, and perhaps the most important, were the prints of a woman's hands on the table in the room where the murder took place. Who was that woman? If he could only find that woman who was in the room and saw the old man murdered, he would be very close to the murderer. Going over to his assistant, who was still busy getting the prints from the table, he said hastily: "Joe, when you've finished, go and get the finger- prints of all the women who were in the house the night of the murder. Don't miss anybody." "Very well, gov'nor." As he spoke Mr. Finley re-entered the room, fol- lowed by the footman. 76 THE ARGYLE CASE "Here is Topp, sir," said the butler, deferen- tially. The detective looked the man quickly over from head to foot. Satisfied with his scrutiny, he turned to his assistant and said quietly: "Get his prints, Joe." Then, turning suddenly on the trembling lackey, he demanded sharply: "Now, my man—tell the truth—how did you come to be mixed up in this murder?" The little cockney turned pale. He knew it— they were going to charge him with killing his master. Panic-stricken, he exclaimed: "S' 'elp me Gawd, I 'ad no 'and in it!" Kayton smiled grimly. Shrugging his shoulders, he replied, skeptically: "That remains to be seen. Come—out with it. What were you doing that night?" Topp looked at his interlocutor aghast. "Me, sir? I'm a man of hearly hours an' quiet 'abits. I 'ad read my hevenin' paiper an' was in me bed by 'alf past ten." "Did you hear anything in the night?" The man shook his head. "Naw. I go to bed to sleep. It's not me plaice to be listenin' an' spyin'." The detective shrugged his shoulders. Sarcasti- cally he said: "You're one of those very heavy sleepers, I sup- pose?" "No, sir. I'm a very light sleeper. You kin wake me with a whisper." "How did it happen, then, that you slept all through a murder?" demanded Kayton, sternly. 77 THE ARGYLE CASE "Go on! Don't be so foolish. Out with it! Tell the officer all you know." Topp gave vent to a deep sigh. Hesitatingly he said: "Well, sir, since you will 'ave it, it was in the room below me." Quickly the detective turned to the butler. "What room is that, Finley?" It was the butler's turn now to hesitate. He had been a faithful servant in the Argyle home for over a quarter of a century. It was hard that after all these years he should be asked to testify against one who had always been kind to him. Reluctantly he answered: "Why, sir, that's Miss Mary's room; but—" "Miss Masuret's room!" exclaimed Kay ton, in surprise. Turning quickly to the footman, he went on: "What did you do?" "I went back to bed, an' I was there when they waikened me." The detective made a gesture of dismissal. "That's all for the present. You may go." The footman hastily left the room; and Kayton, turning to the butler, said, quietly: "Now, get the maid Kitty." Mr. Finley went toward the door to summon the girl. Before he reached it he halted and turned round. There was an anxious expression on his face as he said, hesitatingly: "I might say, sir, I think it would be nothin' unusual for Miss Mary to have a light in her room." Kayton made no reply; and the butler, with a sigh, went to the door and called the girl in. 79 THE ARGYLE CASE As Kitty entered, frightened and apprehensive like all the other servants, he said, in a tragic undertone which did not tend to reassure her: "You're wanted by the detective, girl." "What for?" she asked, with a shiver. Kayton, who was getting tired of all this cross- examination, dropped into a chair. Without even glancing in the direction of the maid, he turned to the butler and said, curtly: "Bring the cook in also." Mr. Finley shrugged his shoulders, and an amused expression came over his face. It was really funny to see these detectives thinking they could order a cook around as if she were any ordinary person. What did the cook care for detectives? Tactfully he said: "Ye'll be wastin' yer time there, sir. Mrs. Beau- regard, the cook, is the only intelligent member of the household that sleeps below-stairs, an' she's been pestered by the police till she's got a bit fussy." "Never mind; I'll have to see her," said Kayton, determinedly. Mr. Finley shrugged his shoulders. "Very well, sir, I'll bring her—I'll bring her, only don't blame me if she's a bit cantankerous." He went out, closing the door of the library behind him. Kayton looked at the maid, who smiled bash- fully. She had never seen a detective before, and had no idea they were so good-looking. Modulating his voice, he said, kindly: "Come here, my girl. So you're Kitty, are you?" She advanced shyly toward him. Timidly, and with a slight courtesy, she answered: 80 THE ARGYLE CASE "Yes, sir." "Did you hear anything the night of the murder?" There was a moment's hesitation as she replied: "N-no, sir." "Nothing whatever?" he persisted. "The rain—" she stammered. "What time was it?" he asked abruptly. She gave him a furtive look as if wondering how much she could tell with safety. "A quarter past one." "You got up and lit the gas to look at the clock?" The girl stared at him in amazement, frightened that he knew so much. Quickly she answered: "No, sir. I got up because I'd—I'd left a window open down-stairs." "Did you go down to close it?" "Yes, sir." "Did you pass Miss Masuret's room?" Again she hesitated. "Yes." "Was there a light under the door?" "Yes, sir," she replied, reluctantly, and avoiding the detective's steady gaze. "Did you speak to Miss Masuret?" "Yes, sir. Her maid had gone away for the night, and I thought perhaps I could do something for her." "Was she ill?" "She had a headache." "She said so?" "Yes, sir. She said she had a headache and couldn't sleep." "Did you do anything for her?" The girl hesitated a moment before she answered: 81 THE ARGYLE CASE "No, sir." "Didn't you go into her room?" The maid shook her head. "No, sir; she wouldn't let me." "Why not?" "She said she'd be all right." Kayton looked at her keenly. All this was dam- aging evidence of the highest importance. Changing abruptly the line of questioning, he demanded sud- denly: "Did you come down to this floor?" "No; I went right back to bed." Before the detective could ask anything further there was a commotion outside the library door, and a shrill, angry voice was heard exclaiming: "Gawd sakes! I'd like to see the man, detective or no detective, as thinks he can boss me!" The next moment there bounced into the room a burly negress of the typical Southern-mammy type. She had a fat, kindly face, and her woolly hair was partially gray. Uncorseted, her enormous bust stood forth in vast folds of wabbly fat, and her fat, per- spiring face shone like a freshly polished stove. Evidently just from the kitchen, she was neverthe- less neatly dressed in blue calico, with a large check- ered apron and a white handkerchief tied round her head. She appeared to be laboring under great mental excitement, for directly she caught sight of Joe she turned to Mr. Finley, who had followed in a vain attempt to quiet her, and demanded: "Is dis de man?" The butler shook his head and pointed to the chief. "No; this is Mr. Kayton." 82 THE ARGYLE CASE Not in the least awed, the negress advanced ag- gressively toward the detective. "Ah, you ah de gen'l'man as wants to see me?" Kayton, an amused expression on his face, looked the new-comer over for a moment and then turned to Kittv. "That's all. You can go." Overjoyed to get away, the maid beat a hasty retreat, and the detective turned to the negress: "Ah! You are Mrs. Beauregard. Yes; I want to see you." She did not wait to hear what he had to see her about, but at once burst forth explosively: "Yes, I am, suh; an' I's heah to say I don' wan' to see you! I's seen 'nuff o' you detectionaries, and I obshave ebry—ebry time anything bad occuhs in dis yere wohld, yo' alius try to put it on to us colored folks." He allowed her free rein, amused at her angry gestures. When finally she stopped for want of breath he asked, quietly: "How long have you lived here, Mrs. Beauregard?" "How long has I Iibed heah? Lawd o' love, I alius libed heah. I libed heah since Miss Mary was a HT child. Why man, I libed heah mos' a hunded yeahs." Indignantly she added: "What business's it on yohs how long I libed heah?" He laughed good-humoredly. "Well, if you've lived here as long as that you must have been deeply attached to Mr. Argyle." She stared at her interrogator for a moment, as if not quite understanding the drift of the question. Then, as if suspecting a trap, she burst out: 83 THE ARGYLE CASE "Don' yo' put no scandal on me! I wa'n' no moh 'tached to Mr. Argyle dan Mr. Argyle war 'tached to me. Dere wa'n't nobody else in dis yeah town could cook foh him!" Kayton merely smiled as he went on, calmly: "And I suppose you were just as attached to Miss Masuret?" Again flaring up, she exclaimed, angrily: "Don' yo' figgah you kin make me say nuffin' 'gainst Miss Mary. Come 'round yeah tryin' to wohk up mo' lies against dat chil' fo' de newspapehs. Yo—yo—don't get no help from me!" Kayton laughed as he said, mockingly: "I don't suppose you would know anything about anything, anyway." Incensed that he should take her for an ignoramus, she fell easily into the trap. Wrathfully she replied: "I—I—I don' know nufHn', eh? I don' know nuffin', eh? I—I know 'nufF to know she didn't done nuffin'!" The detective quickly altered his tactics. There had been enough fooling. It was time to attend to business. Going closer to the negress and looking her straight in the face, he said, sternly: "Young Mr. Argyle has engaged me to find out the truth. If you know anything that will help to clear Miss Masuret, you had better tell it." Somewhat intimidated by his commanding tone, the negress looked helplessly at the butler. "Is dis yeah man lyin' to me?" she faltered. Mr. Finley shrugged his shoulders as he replied, blandly: "There's tricks in all trades, Mrs. Beauregard, but * 84 THE ARGYLE CASE I'm thinkin' the truth can't hurt Miss Mary—so whatiwer ye know ye'd best tell to him." "Come, come!" repeated Kay ton. "What do you know?" The negress shifted uneasily about on her enor- mous flat feet and rolled up the whites of her eyes as she replied: "I know Miss Mary hadn' nufHn' to do wit' that yeah 'sassination, 'cause she was on d' uppeh no' all de time." "How do you know that ?" demanded the detective, quickly. "'Cause I done see her dere." "Where were you?" "I was crawlin' up dem kitchen staihs, an' dehe was a light up dehe, an' I look up an' I see her." "What brought you up-stairs?" "Well, suh, I was wakened up by a pow'ful row in de middle o' dat yeah night. 'Peahed like some- body must 'ave fell down dem yeah staihs. I was scahed corpse-cold, an' I wait dehe, an' listen an' listen—an' I don' heah nuffin' mo'. Den I reckon I bettah 'vestigate dat commotion. An' I done did it." "Did you speak to Miss Masuret?" "No, suh; I wasn't speakin'; I was jes' lookin'. 'Peahs like I couldn't get mah breaf in time to speak 'fore Miss Mary went back inteh her room an' shut de do'. Den I calc'Iate I mus've dreamed some o' dat yehe noise, so I goes back to bed, an' didn't heah nuffin' mo' till mohnin'. An' if you'll excuse me, Mistah Policeman, I'd like to go back to my bakin'. Yo' all 'peahs to fohget dat folks has got to eat." 85 THE ARGYLE CASE Kayton laughed and turned on his heel. "All right, general; go back to your commissariat." The woman stared at him in blank amazement. "What's dat—what's dat you call me?" "All right, Mrs. Beauregard. If I want you again I'll send for you." She shook her head defiantly. "Yo' don' see no moh o' dis yeah colored lady. Come roun' heah askin' me all dese fool questions I get so—so mingled I don' know what I is. I hopes to de Lawd yo' all clear out o' dis yeah house, an' leave dis yeah fambly in peace." At the door she turned round as if about to deliver another broadside, but the butler gave her a push, and she disappeared. After she had gone Kayton hastily scribbled a few notes in his memorandum- book and then turned to the butler. Quietly he said: "Finley, I want to see Miss Masuret." The old servant started, and a look of genuine distress came over his face. "Miss Mary, sir? Is it really necessary. . . . Couldn't ye leave her alone, sir?" Kayton stamped the floor impatiently. Per- emptorily he said: "No; go at once and tell her that I want to see her." "Very well, sir," replied the man, resignedly. "I will call Miss Masuret." Without another word the butler left the room, closing the door carefully behind him. CHAPTER VIII WHEN the door had closed on the butler Kay- ton turned to his assistant with a grim smile on his otherwise impassive face. "Nothing so far, Joe." "No, sir. I guess it's going to be no cinch." Kayton did not answer, but, dropping into a chair near the fireplace, sat staring silently at the blazing logs on the hearth as if trying to read in the glowing embers the solution of the Argyle mystery. So far so good, but all he had learned amounted to practi- cally nothing. He was really no further advanced than when he began this wearisome cross-examining of dull-witted menials. Evidently, none of the servants were implicated. Each had told a straight- forward story, and there was no good reason for doubting any one's word. It was tiring, nerve-rack- ing work having to pump answers out of the fools, yet it must be done. Experience had taught him that no witness is too humble or unimportant not to be of some value. While innocent themselves, they often unconsciously furnished a clue when trying to shield the real culprits. For example, the statements made by the footman, the maid, and the cook were all highly damaging to Miss Masuret. There seemed to be no question that she was up and dressed in the middle of the night 87 THE ARGYLE CASE about the time when the crime was committed; and in the morning, when informed of the tragedy, her manner was nervous and agitated. In her case, too, there was a strong motive. She was chief beneficiary under a will which had just been executed. It was to her interest to get the old man out of the way before he had a chance to regret his action and remake his will. But was it credible that a young woman delicately nurtured, charming and amiable as every one declared her to be, would attempt such a deed? Was she present in the room while another, an accomplice, did the old man to death? Were those finger-prints on the polished surface of the table her finger-prints? All this must be cleared up. Then there was the son. There was also a motive in his case. He knew of the new will disinheriting him. He knew exactly when it was to be executed. Had he come to the house with the idea of killing his father before he could sign it? The butler said he saw the youth go away, and long after his departure the old man was alive; but were they sure that Bruce did not return at a late hour and get into the house unobserved? He had a latch-key. Nothing would have been easier. Then there was Mr. Hurley, the family lawyer. He was one of the last to see the banker alive. What had passed between him and his aged client? All these threads must be closely fol- lowed up. But he must go slowly. There was nothing to be gained in acting hastily. He would not even attempt to put direct questions to either Miss Masuret or Bruce. A better plan was to let them think he did not even suspect them and to watch them closely. Meantime, he would get hold 88 THE ARGYLE CASE of Hurley and learn from him just what the relations between the murdered man and his son and adopted daughter were. It might also be a good idea to go through the old man's bureau drawers. Possibly they might contain some clue. Jumping up, he went over to the big desk to examine the contents of the pigeonholes, while Joe, on the other side of the room, picked up the debris scattered all over the floor and arranged everything systematically on the window-seat. Suddenly Kayton stooped down and exclaimed: "Jnello! Here's a cigar-band!" Examining it closely, he added: "I wonder what brand the old man smoked." Joe pointed to the cigar-boxes on the desk. "I guess those were his." Quickly Kayton opened one of the boxes and, taking out a cigar, compared the bands. Shaking his head, he said: "They're not alike. It may have been an old cigar the old man had in his pocket. It may also have been on the cigar of the man who killed him. In any case, it's worth keeping." Slipping it into his waistcoat pocket, he went on with the work of ransacking the pigeonholes. For a few minutes nothing was said, both men working hard, when all at once Kayton uttered an exclama- tion of surprise. He had been examining the con- tents of several of the envelopes he found in one of the inner drawers of the desk when suddenly he came across a brand-new hundred-dollar bill." "Well, that's damned funny!" "What?" said Joe, looking up. 7 "89 THE ARGYLE CASE "Here's a new hundred-dollar bill in an envelope." "In the desk?" "Yes, and the drawer looks as if it had been pretty well searched, too." Joe nodded. "Yes; the police probably went through them all. Queer about the bill. The old man must have in- tended mailing it to somebody." Kayton shook his head as if puzzled. "That's hardly likely." "I wonder why he didn't." Kayton laughed outright. Mockingly he ex- claimed: "If you knew that, and had your supper, you could go to bed, Joe." The young man pointed to the debris he had collected. "I've got all this stuff laid out, governor." The chief nodded approvingly. "Better start with the finger-prints now, Joe. Get all the servants—both hands." As he spoke the library door opened and the butler appeared. Kayton hastily put the one- hundred - dollar banknote in an envelope, which he thrust in his pocket. Looking up, he asked, carelessly: "What is it, Finley?" "Mr. Hurley's here, sir." "Is Miss Masuret coming?" "I've not had time to see, sir. I'm going to her now." Kayton made an impatient gesture. Sharply he said: 90 THE ARGYLE CASE "Don't delay any longer. Meantime ask Mr. Hurley to come in." The butler went out, and directly his back was turned Kayton hurried over to where his assistant was still at work. "Joe, go and send a telegram to our office in San Francisco. Put it in cipher. Make it read like this." The assistant produced from his pocket a pencil and pad and started to write what his chief dictated. "'Look up Mrs. James Masuret—maiden name Nellie Marsh.' Got that, Joe?" "Yes, sir." "'Died in 'Frisco.'" Correcting himself, he said: "You'd better make that San Francisco, Joe. They're very peevish about that out there. 'Died in San Francisco about twenty years ago.' Get that off at once, Joe." As he spoke he extinguished the lamp on the table. "Is she the girl's mother?" demanded the young man. "Yes. I want to know all I can about that scan- dal. I believe this thing happened through the girl some way or other." Before Joe could question any further the door opened, and Mr. Hurley entered. The lawyer was carefully dressed as usual, with a flower in the buttonhole of his long frock-coat, an elaborate tie with an expensive pin, and white gaiters. No one could mistake his profession. He had about him that self-confident, aggressive manner usually associated with attorneys. He did not wait 9i THE ARGYLE CASE for introductions, but advanced, hand outstretched, with great cordiality. "Good morning, Mr. Kay ton. I'm Mr. Hurley, Mr. Argyle's lawyer. I'm awfully glad to meet you—heard a lot about you and all that sort of thing. I'm mighty glad that you've come in on the case. That police bunch are awful duffers. I don't doubt you'll clear the mystery up for us." He spoke with deliberation and affectation, as if always endeavoring to impress the world with his importance. His voice had a harsh, unpleasant quality, and he had a trick of interlarding his sen- tences with a forced, nervous, and boisterous laugh, not unlike the neighing of a horse. "Well, I hope so, Mr. Hurley," replied the de- tective, dryly. The lawyer shook his head. "It means time and a good deal of work, though. There are so many ways the thing might have oc- curred." "As, for instance—pardon me!" Joe, his work finished, had started to leave the room quietly. Kayton, excusing himself, went quickly forward and intercepted his assistant. "Joe, telephone to the office that I'll not be there till twelve-thirty." "Very well, gov'nor." The assistant went out, leaving the two men to- gether. Kayton apologized for the interruption. "You were saying, Mr. Hurley—" "I was saying there are so many ways the thing might have possibly occurred." Drawing a cigar- case from his pocket, he held it out. "Smoke?" 92 THE ARGYLE CASE account for the fact that Mr. Argyle made no out- cry?" "His cries may not have been heard?" "Very true." "Of course, the strong argument against the bur- glar theory is that nothing was stolen, although, as a matter of fact, that is a poor argument. The burglar might have been frightened away." "You're convinced, then, that it was a burglar, and not some intimate who killed him?" said Kayton, quickly. For a moment the lawyer seemed nonplussed. He hesitated in an embarrassed kind of way, but laughed it off boisterously as he replied: "Well—er—er—no, I was simply airing that idea. As to the suggestion that it might have been some one of his household, some member of his family, that is, of course, absurd. There is an entire lack of motive, or, rather, a large discrepancy between the nature of the crime and the character of the only person who might have a motive." The detective rose and paced the floor. "Miss Masuret, for instance?" he said, quietly. "Oh, it couldn't be Miss Masuret!" replied the lawyer, also rising. "It's quite preposterous to imagine for a moment that a girl like Miss Masuret could be involved in such an affair. Besides, how was she to know that if he died at that particular moment she would be sole heir under the will?" "Was the fact that he was about to make a new will secret?" The lawyer did not answer for a moment, but looked closely at the detective's face, trying to pene- 94 THE ARGYLE CASE "Oh, that's all right." Not stopping to say more, the young man went straight up to his father's lawyer. Wrathfully he burst out: "Look here, Hurley! Why did you go and give out that stuff to the newspapers, about father's changing his will, and starting them up with all this rot about Mary? Why, the papers this morning are full of the damnedest libels. Look at this: 'Argyle Murder Motive. Report that the Dead Millionaire Had Changed His Will. If He Had Lived, Miss Masuret Would Not Have Been Sole Heir.' That's unspeakable! If Mary sees it—" The attorney shrugged his shoulders. Loftily he replied: "Why pay any attention to that sort of thing? You ought to be used to the methods of sensational journalism by this time." "That's nothing to do with it. The information came from you, and a lawyer should keep such things from scandal-mongers, not furnish them with ammunition. It was bad enough when they in- sinuated that some of father's stock-market victims came and killed him, or maybe some fellow wanted to marry Mary for her money and had to get him out of the way; but, Hurley, you've given them just what they wanted to build on!" The lawyer bit his lip. "I'm very sorry, but I didn't think we had any- thing to conceal. You can't hide much from the newspapers. If we are going to get at the truth of this matter we need to be open and honest. Isn't that so, Mr. Kayton?" 96 THE ARGYLE CASE Kayton bowed politely. "Why, of course, Mr. Hurley." The lawyer resumed his seat and went on with his cigar while the detective turned to the dead man's son. "You understand, Mr. Argyle, that you are now the head of the family, and the responsibility for the success or failure of this investigation will rest largely with you. I'll have to ask for your co- operation in everything, and I'll expect that you'll consult with me before you make any move or ex- press any opinion or do anything that has a bearing on this case." Bruce nodded. "Certainly; I understand that, Mr. Kayton." "Mr. Argyle, you were the last person known to be with your father the night of the murder." "Yes, that's true—I was. I had dinner here with Mary and him." "Was that unusual?". "Well, you know, I suppose, that father and I didn't get along any too well together. I broke away about a year ago when he objected to my marrying. My foster-sister, Miss Masuret, has been trying ever since to bring us together. That night my father was more amiable, and we three had a splendid time. She was as happy as could be about it—because father and I were on good terms again. She went to her room early and left us here to have a talk." "Did your father seem worried about anything?" "He had a telephone call that disturbed him a good deal while I was here." 97 THE ARGYLE CASE "What time was that?" "Why, about nine o'clock." "Did he receive it himself?" "Yes; he was called on his private wire—right there." "What did he say?" "I don't remember, except that he kept saying 'No' very emphatically. I concluded that it was something connected with his business affairs. After- ward he seemed preoccupied and worried. I thought he wanted to be alone so he could think it over, so I left soon after." Changing abruptly the line of questions, the de- tective asked: "Where did you sleep that night?" "In my studio, where I live." "How did you get there? a taxi?" "No; I walked." "Walked, eh? Were you caught in the rain?" "I didn't know it rained." "Did any one see you go into your studio?" "Not that I know of." "Any one drop in on you after you got home?" "No." "Is there any one in any of the surrounding apart- ments that could have seen you or your light?" "Well, you know I just have the rear of a top floor in an old Twenty-third Street house with a skylight." Again the detective asked, sharply: "Didn't you hear the rain on your skylight?" "I tell you I didn't know it rained. I go to bed early and get up as soon as there's light enough to work." 98 THE ARGYLE CASE "You understand that it might be very important that some one should have seen you—the last person known to have been with your father the night of the murder—leave this house?" The young man looked harassed. It was evident that this line of questioning was worrying him. Wiping the perspiration from his forehead and clearing his throat, he stammered, huskily: "Well, I saw—" "What did you see?" "I thought as I was going out that I saw somebody looking over the bannister-rail." "What made you look up at the bannister- rail?" "I suppose I must have heard something." Quick as a flash, the detective demanded: "Was it Miss Masuret?" Eagerly, he scrutinized the young man's face as he replied: "It might have been one of the maids." "Why didn't you speak to her?" "I wasn't sure, and she drew back." Turning to the lawyer, he exclaimed, anxiously: "Look here, Hurley! Don't for God's sake give this to the papers. Goodness knows what they'd make of it! They'd have Mary up there, just waiting to—" Going to the mantelpiece, Bruce stood for a moment glaring at the scandalous sheet which, in its frantic efforts to secure circulation at any cost, did not hesitate to try and fasten on an innocent girl the crime of parricide. Crushing the paper up in his hands, he threw it on the floor and stood with his head resting despondently on the mantel. IOO THE ARGYLE CASE Kayton, who had watched him in silence, now ap- proached him. Soothingly he said: "That's nothing, my dear fellow; don't mind what they say. The truth will come out sure as the sun will rise to-morrow. The thing that strikes me as most significant in all this is the telephone message." Mr. Hurley looked up quickly. "What do you see significant in that?" he de- manded. "It is very simple," said the detective. "The person who called him up must have known his private telephone number. That would indicate some one who was familiar with the house. And the fact that he was disturbed by the message but said nothing of it might argue that it was some one known to him who was in a position to annoy him— possibly some old servant with whom he had confi- dential relations." Turning to the lawyer, he asked: "Had he any business enemies that you know of, Mr. Hurley?" The lawyer shifted uneasily about in his chair. Puffing at his cigar furiously, he said: "Well, I'll tell you about that—you understand, of course, that I've only recently been associated with Mr. Argyle, and he didn't consult me about every- thing, but naturally a man of his many interests must have enemies." Bruce turned to Kayton and held out his hand. Cordially he said: "I leave everything to you. You may not be able to find out who did this. We'll be satisfied if you only prove that Mary did not." IOI THE ARGYLE CASE Kayton smiled, and there was a kindly expression about his mouth as he replied: "The best way to prove who didn't kill your father is to prove who did kill him." As he spoke the library door opened, and Mary appeared in obedience to the detective's summons. CHAPTER IX MARY MASURET had no serious claim to classic beauty, but this morning in her simple, white negligee she looked extremely girlish and attractive. She was deathly white, and, judging by the dark cir- cles under her eyes and look of distress on her face, she was under the strain of great mental anxiety. "Miss Masuret, I presume," said Kay ton, his eyes resting with considerable interest on this young girl whose name had been so prominent in the case. Certainly she did not look very dangerous. He thought he had seldom seen a more wholesome or more sympathetic face. It was impossible that such a sweet girl as that should have committed or con- nived at murder. With a courteous bow he added: "I shall try not to inconvenience you more than is absolutely necessary." She bowed without looking up or taking the trouble to see what kind of person this detective might be. She did not care who he was. The terrible events of the last few days had dulled her sensibilities, left her as if dazed. All she knew was that she must undergo another painful ordeal of futile questioning. Unable to find the slayer of her benefactor, the police had retaliated by putting her under all sorts of humili- ating examinations, and had not stopped even at hinting at dreadful suggestions that perhaps it was 103 THE ARGYLE CASE Bruce or even herself who had killed the aged millionaire. Not that she feared these veiled accusa- tions. Her own conscience was serene. And as to Bruce, it was unthinkable that he could have done such a thing. She hoped this new police officer or detective, or whatever he might be, would have some compassion and not inflict on her more torture than was absolutely necessary. "I am Mr. Kayton," explained the detective. "I'm here to try to clear up the murder." Again the young girl bowed without looking up. In a low tone she murmured: "Yes—I know." Bruce, who had noticed her deathly pallor, came quickly forward. Anxiously he exclaimed: "Mary, you oughtn't to be down here. You look awfully ill. It's too much for you. Please go up- stairs again." Kayton put out an authoritative hand. In a tone that did not admit of argument, he said: "I sent for Miss Masuret." The young man bridled up. Who was this de- tective that he should dare dictate to him in his own house? Curtly he said: "You don't understand, Mr. Kayton. It's too much to ask Miss Masuret to come down here. It's too harrowing. It's the first time the room has been opened since—" Mary shook her head. "No, no, Bruce," she interrupted. "I don't mind. It's all right now—please." Turning calmly to the young man, Kayton said quickly: 104 THE ARGYLE CASE "I wish to speak with Miss Masuret alone, if you don't mind." Bruce shook his head vigorously. Emphatically, he exclaimed: "I'm not going to have her put through any third degree!" Kayton stepped forward. Firmly he said: "Just a moment, Mr. Argyle. Before we go any further with this investigation I want you to under- stand I am in charge of it." The youth was still unconvinced and inclined to argue further, when Mr. Hurley came up and whispered: "This is nonsense, Bruce. Mr. Kayton has got to question Miss Masuret if he's going to be of any help to her or to us. Come alone with me." The young man turned on his heel. Shrugging his shoulders, he said: "I suppose it's necessary, but I hate to have her go through all this. Make it as short as you can." With a smile at his foster-sister, he took his hat and, accompanied by the lawyer, left the room. When they were alone Kayton pointed to a chair. Politely he said: "Please be seated, Miss Masuret." She sat down, and the detective went to the door to see that it was properly closed, so that they could not be interrupted, and then came and took a seat near her. After a pause, during which she sat trembling for him to begin, he said: "Miss Masuret, I can understand that this affair has been a great shock to you. You feel the loss of Mr. Argyle probably more than anybody. I 8 l°5 THE ARGYLE CASE needn't tell you that I sympathize with you thor- oughly, and I don't want to do or ask anything that will distress you. But a murder has been com- mitted, and if I'm going to clear up everything and remove the suspicions that have been aroused I must have the co-operation of everybody in the house—and especially you" The young girl nodded. "Yes, yes," she faltered; "I want to do anything I can." "Thank you. Where were you born?" "In San Francisco." "Do you remember your mother?" "No. I don't remember either my father or my mother very well. I was too young when they died." "You have no relatives?" "None, that I ever heard of." "There is no one who would inherit this money from you, or have any other reason for wishing you to get it?" "Oh—no—" "Did Mr. Argyle ever object to your intimacy with any friends?" "Why, our life was so retired—I met hardly any one." "No man who wished to marry you?" "Oh no. Mr. Argyle wanted Bruce to marry me; but we couldn't — that was impossible — we were like brother and sister." "Then you have no reasons for suspecting any one?" "Oh no—nol" 106 THE ARGYLE CASE tent disappeared. She did not mind him nearly so much as she feared. His face was kind, his man- ner courteous and considerate. In fact, she rather admired this handsome detective, about whom she already knew so well by reputation. She wondered vaguely if all detectives were so good-looking and had such an amiable smile. "Tell me," he went on, "you went to your room rather early that night—about nine-thirty?" "Yes." "Leaving Mr. Argyle and his son alone here?" "Yes." "You heard the son go?" "Yes." "You saw him go?" She hesitated, and he repeated: "You saw him go?" "Yes." "You were looking down from the upper hall?" She started violently and looked at him in blank astonishment. How could he know that? "Yes," she stammered. "Why didn't you speak to him?" he demanded. "I didn't want him to see me." "Why not?" "I don't know. It was just—instinctive. I thought afterward that I should have spoken to him." "What did you do after he had gone?" "I went back to my room and to bed." "Went right to sleep?" "Well—after a while—" "And heard nothing more?" 108 THE ARGYLE CASE "No." The detective was silent for a few moments. Then, suddenly, he demanded: "Why couldn't Bruce have stayed here that night instead of going away in a storm like that?" Not realizing the importance of her answer, she replied, involuntarily: "Why, it didn't begin to rain until long after midnight." "Then you heard it rain?" he asked, quickly. "Oh—yes—yes," she stammered, with some con- fusion. Taking quick mental note of her embarrassment, he stood looking at her in silence. All at once she turned, and her eyes encountered his steady gaze. Rising from his seat, the detective approached her. Kindly he said: "Miss Masuret, I can't help you unless you trust me. What woke you up?" She did not answer for a moment. Finally, with reluctance, she faltered: "I heard a door close." "Yes?" "It seemed later than it really was, and I was a little alarmed. I got up and opened my door." "You heard voices?" "Yes." "Mr.Argyle's?" # "Yes." "Did you know who was with him? . . . Answer me." Again she was silent. Then, as he repeated the question, she replied, hysterically: "No—no—I don't know!" 109 THE ARGYLE CASE Rising quickly, she went over to the window and stood gazing into the street, her face averted. He followed her. "Did you hear anything that sounded like a struggle?" he went on. "No—they had closed the door." "But you did hear angry voices, didn't you?" he persisted, when she did not answer. "Yes," she replied, reluctantly. He looked steadily at her, trying to read in her face what was passing in her mind. "And you thought that Bruce and his father were quarreling?" She turned round and held out her hand appeal- ingly. Hastily she exclaimed: "No—no—not that! Afterward, when I saw what had happened, I knew it couldn't have been Bruce. You won't attach any importance to it, will you? I had no real reason for thinking it was he." He nodded. "And you concealed this because you were afraid that it was Bruce?" "I was afraid that some one might think it was he." "Did you hear any one go away?" "I heard the door bang. But I didn't go down— I was so unhappy—" "You heard nothing more? So you went to sleep?" She shook her head as she answered sadly: "The rain kept me awake for a long time." Kayton was about to put another question when no THE ARGYLE CASE The assistant threw up his hands in despair. "Gee! That's a big order!" Outside was heard the sound of voices. Foot- steps were approaching. Kayton went quickly to the door. As he passed his assistant he whispered: "When I leave the room, come with me. I want to get Hurley out of the way." Opening the door and thrusting his head into the hall, he called out: "You may come in now." CHAPTER X BRUCE entered, followed by Miss Masuret and Mr. Hurley. The young man gave the detec- tive a quick, keen look, and from him his glance went to Mary, as if trying to tell from the expression of their faces what had taken place between them. But before he could ask any questions Kayton turned to the lawyer. With apparent cordiality he said: "Mr. Hurley, I'd like to have a little chat with you if you don't object. Do you mind going up to the billiard-room? I'll join you there immediately." The lawyer bowed and went toward the door. "By all means, Mr. Kayton. I'll go right up." "Yes—go up. I'm coming." The lawyer went out, and Kayton, making a move- ment as if he intended following him, partially closed the door behind him. But, unseen either by Bruce or Mary, he suddenly retraced his steps and, concealing himself behind a screen, stood lis- tening. Utterly unconscious of the fact that they were overheard, Mary went quickly to the young man. Her arms outstretched, she cried in distress: "Oh, Bruce, I've so much wanted to speak to you ever since—" The young man looked at her in surprise. "Why, what is it, Mary?" THE ARGYLE CASE "What have you been thinking? That I came back here and quarreled with my father and—and— How could you think such a thing?" She extended her arms appealingly. "Oh, I didn't think it was on purpose, Bruce! Indeed I didn't!" "What did you think?" he demanded. "He was always so—so violent when he got angry at you—I thought he did something—made an attack on you, and you had to defend yourself. Of course, I knew it was an accident, Bruce— Don't look like that, Bruce!" His face grew whiter, his mouth quivered with the emotion he could not control. The sense of wrong done him was overwhelming, and aroused within him such intensity of indignation that he could not trust himself to speak. At last, with an effort, he demanded, hoarsely: "Have you believed all this time that I killed my father?"" "I tell you, Bruce, I thought it was an accident. I didn't blame you." "An accident! Why, if such a thing had hap- pened, wouldn't I have called you—roused the house —got help? How could you think such a thing? Mary, do you think so now?" She held out her arms to him. Thank God, he was innocent! Her face, radiant now that all doubts were removed, her voice trembling with emotion, she exclaimed: "No—no—not you, Bruce! You couldn't have done that!" The sudden revulsion of feeling was almost too "7 THE ARGYLE CASE much for her. She stumbled and collapsed on a chair. But the young man, now thoroughly aroused, bitterly indignant at the injustice of these suspicions, was not so easily pacified. Heedless of her distress, he exclaimed, sarcastically: "You do—you do, eh?" Kayton had heard enough. Emerging from be- hind the screen and slamming the door as if he had re-entered the room, he came toward them. Bruce motioned to him to approach. Bitterly he said: "Just in time, Mr. Kayton! At last we've got hold of something worth while giving to the papers. Miss Masuret heard me come back. . . . That ought to satisfy the yellow press. That ought to clear her! I did not come back, but give it out just the same— I can stand it! Give it out!" He snatched up his hat and cane and made for the door. Mary tried to stop him, but before she could reach him, he rushed out of the room. "Bruce! Bruce!" she cried after him, in great distress. She staggered toward Kayton. "Help us, do help us!" she cried, imploringly. "Don't say he came back here! I was wrong—I'm sure I was. He says he didn't come—please don't tell any one! What have I done? Oh, what have I done?" The detective placed his hands firmly on the young girl's shoulders. Quietly but kindly he said: "You've done just the right thing. All will be well. I begin to see daylight. I want you to pull yourself together. I'm going to need you. I'm nS THE ARGYLE CASE counting on you. We need you. Will you help me?" "Oh—I can't—I can't—" "Yes, you can; you're just the right sort of a girl. You want to clear him, don't you? As much as he wants to clear you?" "Yes—oh yes—I—" He patted her on the back reassuringly. "Well, then, it's all right. You go to your room and pull yourself together, and I'll let you know when I need you." He turned from her as if the matter were closed. She drew a half-sobbing breath, looked at him from under her drooping, swollen eyelids, then turned and went slowly in the direction of the door. He looked after her curiously for a moment, then he called after her: "Miss Masuret!" She stopped and slowly turned round. He ap- proached her, and for a few moments they looked into each other's eyes in silence. Finally, he broke the spell. Kindly, he said: "Just a moment. I want you to promise me that you won't worry any more. I can't say yet who's responsible for all this, but I do know that neither you nor Bruce had anything to do with it." Her face flushed with pleasure. Quickly she exclaimed: "You do! Oh—thank you, Mr. Kayton!" "Yes, I am convinced of it, and if I never do anything else as long as I live, I'm going to clear this mystery up for your sake. I want you to believe that. Do you think you can trust me?" 119 THE ARGYLE CASE She looked at him earnestly. Frankness and sin- cerity were reflected in every line of her pale, earnest- looking face. The detective, watching her in silence, thought he had seldom seen a more attractive-looking girl. Fervently she exclaimed: "Yes—oh yes—I'm so thankful to you. . . ." She tried to say more, but, overcome with emotion, hurriedly Ie£t the room. Kayton made no further attempt to stop her. After her departure he stood still, lost in thought. Everything was clear as daylight now. Both Bruce and Mary were innocent. No inmate of the house had committed the murder. The midnight assassin was not a burglar or any ordinary criminal. It was some one with whom Mr. Argyle was well acquainted, some one he knew well enough to invite to his house at such a late hour as one o'clock in the morning. It might be some one with whom he had business dealings and who considered himself wronged. The person had come to the house to demand an explanation or redress, and a heated argument had followed. Miss Masuret was sure she heard voices raised in angry dispute. No doubt they quarreled, and the stranger, losing self-control, killed his host. Certainly it was as plausible a theory as any other. Who was the stranger? That was the next thing to find out. The strong presumption was that it was the same person whose telephone message earlier in the evening had so perturbed the banker. The first step was to consult the telephone records and find out who called the Argyle residence about that time. Then, all at once, another idea flashed across the detective's active brain. Was the brand new 120 THE ARGYLE CASE what was in the wind. What could Washington have to do with this case? Finally his curiosity got the better of him. "What's up, gov'nor?" he asked. Kayton took from his pocket the banknote he had found in the desk and studied it carefully through the glass. Slowly he replied: "I've got a hunch there's something queer about this bill." The telephone rang. Joe spoke quickly into the transmitter: "Hello, long distance! I want Washington, 6400 Main." Turning to his chief, he said, "You know it's funny to me one of those cops didn't pinch that hundred-dollar bill?" Kayton chuckled as he replied, grimly: "Joe, a man's mouth is responsible for a good deal of damage if he doesn't use his brain. You've got that New York habit of knocking the police force." Embarrassed at the rebuke, the young man ex- claimed, in some confusion: "What's that, gov'nor?" "Suppose there are a few grafters among our ten thousand policemen—whose fault is it? Yours and mine, Joe, for putting the political grafters over them; and I'll tell you something else, Joe, while we're on this subject: there are a lot of tough guys here in New York, but,there are, damned few who want to start anything single-handed with a New York cop, and don't you forget it." Joe grinned. "I guess you're right. I never looked at it in that light." 122 THE ARGYLE CASE "No, and a lot of other people never looked at it like that, but it goes just the same." Still seated at the telephone, Joe began speaking to Washington: "Hello! Is the chief in? Mr. Kay ton wants to speak to him." Turning to his employer, he said, hastily: "Here he is, gov'nor." Kayton hurried over and took his place at the transmitter. Before speaking he turned to his assistant: . "Quick, Joe, cover the doors!" The young man at once locked the door leading to the hall and hurried out the other way. Kayton began talking into the telephone. "Is this Mr. Flynn? Hello, Chief. ... Oh, hard at work." Lowering his voice, he went on: "Have you had any report of a counterfeit hundred-dollar gold certificate—E-9737? E—a, b, c, d, e,—973—don't you get it? Well, I can't speak any louder . . . you understand. That's it. Series of 1907—yes. You haven't? Well, I have one here that I thought might be bad. No; but it looks a little light. If it's counterfeit, it's the best one I've ever seen. No; they must have bleached to get the paper. The head's a corker. . . . Very well, I'll turn it over to the New York office. No. It's a murder case. Well —thank you very much. Good-by, Mr. Flynn." Hanging up the receiver, he rose from the desk and called out: "Come in, Joe!" The assistant reappeared on the threshold. As he entered he turned and spoke to some one in the outside hall: 123 THE ARGYLE CASE "You can come in now, Mr. Hurley." Kayton, meantime, quickly slipped the hundred- dollar bill back into the envelope, which he put in his pocket. The next instant Mr. Hurley came in, fol- lowed by Joe. Aggressive and with his usual self-important air, the lawyer entered jauntily, swinging his cane and glancing keenly from one to the other. Watching the detective's face closely, he asked: "Well, how are we getting along with the mystery, Mr. Kayton?" The detective shrugged his shoulders. "My dear Mr. Hurley, there's no such thing as a mystery, if you use a little common sense. You know in a case of this sort you're confronted by a long line of facts, and you hammer away till you break through somewhere. By the by, Mr. Hurley, when you first met Mr. Argyle— How did you meet him?" The lawyer smiled broadly. "Well, now, Mr. Kayton, I'll tell you about that. I had a Western proposition in which I wanted to interest him, and I went to his office, and he proved to be a very approachable man. I laid the matter before him in the usual way. He took it up, investi- gated it, found it was what I said it was, and we got together on it. I suppose that gave him confidence in me. Anything else I can do?" "No, thank you," said Kayton, dryly. The lawyer turned to go. Carelessly he said: "Well, call me up in the morning, if I can be of any help." "I won't be here to-morrow," replied the detective, dryly. "I'll be in Pittsburg." 124 THE ARGYLE CASE The lawyer opened his eyes. With mock sympa- thy he asked: "Have you got to go to Pittsburg?" The detective shrugged his shoulders. "Do you think I'd go if I didn't have to? Some of my operatives have just rounded up a case there, and I've got to see the man and pull him across. I expect to take the night train back, however." The lawyer proceeded to the door. When he reached it he halted and stood for a moment in the doorway, looking back. With a chuckle, he said: "I'll see you the day after to-morrow, then." Kayton smiled grimly. "Yes—yes—do. Good morning." The visitor disappeared, and Kayton began putting on his coat. Turning to his assistant, he pointed significantly in the direction the attorney had taken. "Trail him, Joe!" he said, in a whisper. "What?" exclaimed the young man, staring at his chief in astonishment. Kayton did not stop to ex- plain. He merely repeated, laconically: "Follow Hurley!" "Hurley!" gasped the assistant. The detective nodded. Shrewdly he said: "When a man says, 'Well, now, I'll tell you about that,' it's one safe bet he's lying. Trail him!" Joe made a wild dash for the door, but, catching in his chief s eyes an expression of disapproval, sud- denly checked himself and went out quietly. Kayton waited for a few moments after his subordi- nate's departure, then carelessly picked up his hat and gloves and followed him out. THE ARGYLE CASE he was personally convinced of the girl's innocence and that all such gossip and rumors were cruel slander. In fact, so eloquent a champion did Kayton show himself that his office associates, who had al- ways regarded him as a cynical old bachelor, dead to all sentiment, looked at each other and whistled significantly. Yet some one had killed John Argyle. There could be no question about that, and the fact that robbery had not been the motive only made the mystery the more baffling. There were many who owed the old millionaire a grudge for his sharp practice, but there is a wide difference between disliking a man and killing him. Yet it was certain that the unknown person who had secretly visited him late on the night of the murder might have some strong reason for wishing the banker out of the way. Kayton, whose instinct rarely failed him, was now more than ever convinced that he had hit a trail in the new one-hundred-dollar banknote. The more he examined the bill, the more he believed it to be spurious. When the Secret Service agent arrived he would be able to tell in a moment. If the bill were false, it was quite within the possibilities that the dead man knew it, that he had threatened the counterfeiters, and the latter, in fear of exposure, had not hesitated to kill him. It was, of course, only a theory at best, but since the one-hundred- dollar note had been found in the dead man's desk, it was worth looking into. On the other hand, what possible dealings could a wealthy man like John Argyle have with a band of crooks? It was certainly most puzzling. 127 THE ARGYLE CASE sent us. You see—press this to open them. Now brush against your man. Be sure you strike his wrist—and they snap on him this way. You see it gives three sizes, too. If that were a woman, it would close right down to the third one. And this knuckle in the middle—that's so they can't get any leverage on it." Nash chuckled. "Well, that's the prettiest thing I've seen in a long time! Gov'nor get in yet?" Replacing the handcuffs in the box, the manager answered: "Not yet—we expect him every minute." Nash lit a cigar. Comically he said: "I'll have to get a string to my hat. We'll all be living in a high wind again to-day." Pointing to a voluminous manuscript lying on the chiefs desk, he asked: "What's all that?" "Cortwright's report on the Argyle case—on the servants." "Do you expect him to read all that?" "No; he won't read it, but he'll know what's in it." Suddenly the telephone - bell rang. Leishman took off the receiver, while Nash sauntered over to the window. "Hello. Where are you now? Well! Where's that? What have you done? Oh, you locked them both up. I didn't think they had a jail there. You'd better put a couple of men to see they don't rob the jailer. Hurry on and clean it up. We've got a case here for you—an awful foxy fellow. He tests himself every time he takes a street-car. So 129 THE ARGYLE CASE "Well, we've run out all the inside servants and the cook and the chauffeur. Nothing wrong there at all. We've found the policeman that was on the beat. He has nothing. We looked up some of the discharged servants—a coachman. Nothing in that." "Did you look up Mrs. Wyatt?" "Yes, sir. Nothing there—nothing but a gabby old woman." Kayton chuckled. Mimicking the housekeeper, he laughed: "Yes, I know what you mean. I know what you mean." Becoming serious again, he took up a telegram and said: "I see you couldn't locate that telephone call?" "No, sir." The chief made a gesture of dismissal. "All right. That's all. Send Joe in here." The man went out, and Kayton turned with re- doubled vigor to the accumulation of work on his desk. There were letters and telegraphic reports from his operatives all over the country, telling of clues followed up, suspected people shadowed, in- tricate, puzzling details of a dozen different cases that would be absolutely incomprehensible to any intelligence not specially trained for such work. To a man of Kayton's mental capacity it was all the merest child's play. As quick as he scanned one despatch he smashed it on a hook and picked up another, his alert brain grasping immediately the relative importance of each message, able to seize instantly what was practical and of immediate value from what was merely theoretical. Like most successful men, Kayton never wasted time; he was 132 THE ARGYLE CASE never idle for a moment. Full of tremendous energy, he could attend to a dozen matters at once, and when he was once at his desk things fairly hummed. He was still busy perusing rapidly one telegram after another when Joe entered in obedi- ence to the summons. The young man looked tired, and had a bad scratch across his face covered with sticking-plaster. His employer looked at him in surprise. "Hello, Joe!" he exclaimed, cordially. "Marked for identification?" Advancing to the desk, the assistant put his hand to his cheek. Ruefully he said: "Picked that up trailing Hurley. A wise cop got after me, and I fell down a fire-escape." "How about Hurley?" demanded his chief, eagerly. Joe shook his head. "Nothing doing. Haven't been able to line him up with anything. We take him out in the morn- ing and trail him around all day from one office to another. He don't go to court. Nothing busy in his office but the telephone. We take him home and put him to bed at night—do everything but hear him say his prayers." Kayton laughed. Good-humoredly he said: "Well, don't lose him. Did you attend to that fake 'Personal' about Nellie Marsh—Miss Masuret's mother—about the fake legacy?" The young man nodded. "It's planted in this morning's Herald, and if Nellie Marsh sees it we'll get her." "Sure you got it right?" asked Kayton, anxiously. 133 THE ARGYLE CASE For answer the assistant picked up a copy of the New York Herald and proceeded to look for the ad- vertisement. Quickly he said: "I think so." "Read it to me." At last the young man found what he was looking for, and, coming closer, he read aloud: "Information wanted regarding 'N. M.,' benefi- ciary, Argyle estate. Address Mead £f? Tolworthy, St. Paul Building." Kayton smiled grimly. "Did the papers bite?" "Well, yesterday's Telegram played it up. Their men beat it to Tolworthy's, and when they couldn't find out anything they chucked in some more mys- tery about a new murder clue and a missing heir to the Argyle estate." The chief chuckled. "Well, if she doesn't see the 'Personal,' that ought to reach her." As he spoke the bell of the desk telephone rang sharply. Kayton pulled the apparatus to him and, after listening a moment, spoke into it: "Mr. Hurley? Oh—ask him to come in." Hastily hanging up the receiver, he turned to his assistant. "Here, Joe, take these telegrams—they're all mixed up with half a dozen aliases for each counterfeiter. Pick out the information and make a sort of record of past performances—sit over there at the desk— and keep an ear this way on Hurley." Taking off his coat and hat, the young man hung them up. This done, he took the bunch of tele- grams from the chief's desk over to the corner of 134 THE ARGYLE CASE the room, where he had his own desk, and sat there looking them over. While he was thus occupied the door of the outer office was pushed open and Mr. Hurley appeared. The lawyer gave a swift, keen glance round the office to see who was there; then, removing his hat with more politeness than he usually showed, he advanced to the desk and said: "I just wanted to speak to you for a moment, Mr. Kayton." The detective looked up and gave the visitor a cool nod. Carelessly he answered: "Glad to see you any time, Mr. Hurley. I ex- pect to get a good deal of assistance from you." The lawyer laughed nervously. "I dont know about that; but, of course, I'll be glad to do anything I can." The detective held out a box of cigars. "Smoke?" "Thanks." The lawyer took a seat and, lighting a cigar, crossed his legs comfortably. After a few puffs in silence, he said: "By the way, in line with your theory, that it was an old servant who was blackmailing, it occurred to me that they used to have a coachman who may have had a grievance because the chauffeur sup- planted him." Kayton looked up quickly. "Do you remember his name, Mr. Hurley?" "No; but I suppose the family would have it." "Thanks. I'll look him up." Another silence followed, during which both men I3S THE ARGYLE CASE puffed away quietly at their cigars. Every now and then the detective gave his visitor a swift, sideways glance, as if trying to read what was really passing in the lawyer's mind. What was the real motive of this visit? Certainly not to talk about coachmen with grievances. No; it was impossible to give Mr. Hurley credit for such unselfishness. He would hardly have taken the trouble to call merely to tell him that. The real object of his visit probably was to learn something of more immediate concern to himself. Suddenly Mr. Hurley broke the silence. Casual- ly he remarked: "I saw the Mead & Tolworthy 'Personal' in the Herald yesterday, and thought it might be a new clue; but they say not. They referred me to you. Pretending to be busy with his papers, Kayton for a moment made no answer. Then, after a pause, he said, unconcernedly: "Yes, they consulted me. In Mr. Argyle's will drawn up by old Mr. Tolworthy there was a legacy to a Miss Nellie Marsh—the present firm has no knowledge of any Nellie Marsh. That information evidently died with old Mr. Tolworthy and Mr. Argyle. They asked me to find her, thinking there might be some scandal." The lawyer listened eagerly. "Yes—yes—" "And for that reason I used only the initials N. M. Did you ever hear Mr. Argyle refer to a Miss Marsh?" Mr. Hurley sat back in his chair, and in his ex- 136 THE ARGYLE CASE asperating self - important manner replied, senten- tiously: "Well, now, I'll tell you about that. When we were discussing the new will we didn't get to the lesser legatees." The detective shook his head. "It's too large a sum to have been simply a be- quest to an old servant. It runs up in the thou- sands." "Well, in that case the person will doubtless be expecting to be remembered by Mr. Argyle, and show up." He rose, as if the conversation had taken a turn that no longer interested him. The detective watched him for a moment in silence, and then he said, carelessly: "Oh yes, the whole thing may be perfectly inno- cent; but to avoid anything unpleasant for the family the lawyers thought they'd better be on the safe side. You understand, Mr. Hurley, this is strictly confidential." "Oh, of course, of course—certainly." At that moment the telephone-bell rang. Kayton picked up the receiver. After listening, he said: "Ask him to wait a minute!" The lawyer made a move in the direction of the door. "Well, I won't take up any more of your time." "Going so soon? Come in again, Mr. Hurley." "Thank you, I will. I shall be interested to hear if there are any new developments in the case." "I'll keep you posted," smiled the detective, politely, as he saw his caller to the door. 10 137 CHAPTER XII S the sound of the lawyer's footsteps died away phantly he exclaimed: "Looks like a nibble, Joe." "It certainly does," grinned the youth. Again the telephone-bell rang sharply. Kayton unhooked the receiver, and after listening a second said, cordially: "Ask Mr. Colt to come in." Outside in the outer office a big, hearty voice was heard saying: "All right, Leish, I'll go right in." The door was thrown open, and there entered a big, thick-set man with a breezy manner. He was well fed and well-salaried looking, like most govern- ment employees. "Hello, you old plutocrat!" was his cordial greet- ing, as he caught sight of the detective. "Hello, Colt," laughed Kayton. The new-comer turned about and glanced curious- ly round the room. "You've got an office like a bloated Senator, haven't you? What you tryin' to do to us with that hundred-dollar bill?" Kayton looked up eagerly. "Well," he demanded, "is it phony?" turned to his assistant. Trium- 138 THE ARGYLE CASE went over to the window and stood carefully inspect- ing the note. "How do you suppose they ever put it together?" he asked. The agent shrugged his shoulders. "It's a photographic process—that's a cinch. No hand ever touched that plate. Look at the lathe- work." Colt settled himself down comfortably in his chair. The day was young, and Kay ton's cigars were ex- cellent. There was no reason why he should hurry away. He would stop and talk awhile. Taking off his hat, he absent-mindedly placed it on his host's desk, much to the horror of Kayton, who, resenting the sacrilege, immediately handed it back to him. The agent took it without offense and unconsciously replaced it on his head. Still thinking of the counter- feit, he went on: "And look at the ink." "Perfect!" exclaimed Kayton. "How'd you ever get on to it?" "Why, some of these silk fibers struck me as off color." Explosively, he went on: "Say, this sort of thing is going to knock the currency into a cocked hat. Pretty soon you won't be able to take money from a man unless he gives you a Masonic grip with it. And you mean to tell me that you found that bill in a millionaire's desk?" Kayton smiled. "It seems impossible, but I did." The agent shook his head. "It seems incredible that a man in Argyle's position should mix himself up with a gang of 140 THE ARGYLE CASE criminals who'd blackmail him for the rest of his life." "I know. Talk about mysteries, Colt! This is the only real mystery I ever met." "Have you got any clue?" "Well, I'm playing a long shot." Holding out the banknote, he added: "Couldn't any of you experts down at the office give a wild guess whose work this was?" The agent shook his head thoughtfully. "No. There isn't a counterfeiter on the books could do it. The man who got that up has been quietly experimenting for years." Kayton turned to his assistant. "Let me have that list, Joe." Opening a drawer in the archives, the young man took out a paper containing the names of well-known criminals already convicted for counterfeiting. Kay- ton glanced it over. '"How about Brockton?" he said, musingly. Colt shook his head. "H'm—he hasn't been out long enough." "Could old man Rich have done it?" Tipping back in his chair, Colt carelessly flicked off his cigar-ash, which fell to the highly polished floor. To Joe, who had been watching his free and easy behavior with growing disapproval ever since he came in, this was the last straw. Rising with a scowl and coming forward, he kicked away the ash and then returned indignantly to his seat, quite unnoticed by the agent, whose mind was intent on Kayton's suggestion. Colt shook his head. 141 THE ARGYLE CASE "I should say it does!" . , In his excitement he again flecked off his cigar- ash, but this time catching sight of Joe, who was still watching him, he hastily covered the ashes with his foot and glanced apprehensively in the direction of the assistant's desk. With a subdued chuckle he said: "I swear you've certainly got the luck!" "I haven't got the woman or the man," replied Kayton, grimly. The agent laughed. "Oh, you'll wake up to-morrow and find 'em scratchin' at the door." Before Kayton could reply the door of the outer office opened, and Leishman entered with an opened telegram, which he handed to his superior. Quickly Kayton glanced it over. "A wire from Washington. The chief '11 be here at two o'clock." Colt rose. With a laugh he said: "I'll bet he's bringing a bad case of St. Vitus' dance with him. Got the whole Secret Service on the thing now. I'm off." "Don't go, Colt," said Kayton, with a good-natured laugh. Colt grinned. . "Oh, you discourage me! Things come so damned easy to you." Stooping quickly, he grabbed a handful of cigars from the box on the desk and, putting them in his pocket, walked out of the office laughing loudly, while Kayton, eying the dilapidated cigar-box with dismay, hastened to hide it away before another raid could be made on it. 143 THE ARGYLE CASE Joe looked after the retreating agent with scorn. Contemptuously he said: "He's got a lazy man's grouch, gov'nor. He seems to think everything you do is luck." Kayton smiled. "Good luck's like lightning, Joe. It strikes the man who keeps out in the rain." "I guess you draw it, gov'nor, because you're some live wire." The chief picked up the telephone receiver. With a gesture of good-natured impatience he exclaimed: "Cut that, Joe. No bouquets. Get me Mead & Tolworthy." As he hung up, he turned to his assistant and said: "Joe, we've got all the rocks flying with that counterfeit." The youth chuckled. "Yes; I was just thinking—that murder was hard on the Argyles, but it was a great thing for the government." The telephone-bell rang. Kayton spoke into the receiver: "Yes—hello—Mr. Tolworthy? This is Kayton. Have you heard anything from our 'N. M.' 'Per- sonal'? Yes, Hurley was in to see me. Oh! . . . When did she call you up? Just now? Oh—did you think she was a reporter? Did you refer her to me? Well, that was right. . . . No, she hasn't shown up yet. . . . I'm much obliged to you, Mr. Tolworthy." Hanging up and turning to his assistant, he said: "Joe, tell the outer office that if any woman comes from Mead & Tolworthy I want to see her right away." 144 THE ARGYLE CASE The young man looked up. Eagerly he asked: "'N. M.' heard from, gov'nor?" "Well, some woman called up Mead & Tol- worthy a few minutes ago." "Oh, just after Hurley left?" "Exactly." Joe winked at his chief, a piece of familiarity he only permitted himself to do at most important and critical moments. "Then it was a nibble?" he cried, triumphantly. Kay ton nodded. With a grim smile he replied: "No, Joe—a bite. He swallowed it—hook, line, and sinker." The assistant, a broad grin on his face, went out of the office just as Mr. Leishman came in. The manager had in his hand some papers which he held out to the chief. "Mr. Argyle and Mrs. Wyatt are waiting to see you, gov'nor." "Show them right in." The manager went out to summon the visitors. As he disappeared, the telephone-bell rang. Kayton picked up the receiver, and after listening a moment replied with some impatience: "Who? . . . Well, no. Tell him I can't see him. Ask him to come to-morrow morning. No—I won't see him!" He hung up the receiver just as Bruce and Mrs. Wyatt entered from the outer office. Putting down his cigar, he rose and said, politely: "Good morning!" "Good morning, Mr. Kayton," said Bruce, cor- dially. 145 THE ARGYLE CASE "Good morning, Mrs. Wyatt. Won't you be seated?" They sat down, and the detective looked from one to the other, wondering what had brought them. Bruce soon enlightened him. "Mr. Kayton, Mrs. Wyatt has remembered some- thing my father said that she thinks might be a real clue for you to work on." The housekeeper, fussy and voluble as ever, leaned heavily on the chief s desk at the risk of spilling many of the papers. "Yes, I don't know what brought it into my mind." Nervously, almost unconsciously she moved the telephone which stood between her and Kayton. Instantly the detective seized it and put it back. She noticed his annoyance and, murmuring an apology, continued: "I was eating breakfast—drinking my coffee— when suddenly it came to me. I mean to say, I recalled distinctly a conversation that we had once at the table when he was reading the morning paper. I couldn't repeat his words exactly, but whatever he said was suggested by a case in the paper. Do you know what I mean?" "But you told me—" interrupted Bruce. Kayton put out a hand. "Just a moment, Mr. Argyle." Turning to the housekeeper, he asked: "Do you remember what the case was in the paper?" She shook her head dubiously. "Well, I can't say positively. I mean to say, I don't know. But what he said was that he had gone into something—" 146 THE ARGYLE CASE "Of what sort?" "Well, that he was speculating or investing—and he wished he hadn't. And what I felt at the time was—I distinctly remember it—that he was in danger—" "Of what?" demanded Kayton. "That he was in danger of—of being taken ad- vantage of—" Bruce made an impatient exclamation. "Why, you told me somebody was trying to black- mail himl" She shook her head helplessly. "I know. But I've been thinking it all over, and it's much more clear to me. Do you know what I mean r "Then you don't think it was a blackmailing case in the paper?" interrupted Kayton. The housekeeper smirked. "Well, I don't know. I think it was Mr. Bruce who put that in my mind." "You don't recall the date of the paper?" She shook her head. "No; but it must have been before I went away, because it was his death that brought me back, you know." Kayton nodded. "I see. Thank you very much, Mrs. Wyatt. It's quite possible that a man in Mr. Argyle's posi- tion should have thought himself liable to be taken advantage of." , Mrs. Wyatt beamed. "I was sure you'd see something in it. I'll be so glad if I've thought of it in time to help. I 147 THE ARGYLE CASE mean to say, it seems as if we'd never find out the truth." Kayton rose in self-defense, and she rattled on. "I don't mean to hurry you, Mr. Kayton." With a gesture of despair the detective sank back in his seat, and she continued: "But here are the papers again this morning, trying to show now that Bruce did it, and that's just as awful as to say that Mary did it. And, by the way, I want to know what that N. M. 'Personal' meant? They told me to ask you." "Well, Mrs. Wyatt, that's simply an attempt to reach an old employee named Nathan Mills." "Oh, I thought perhaps—I thought it meant—" Bruce now came to the rescue. Breaking in, he said: "You've got an appointment, Mrs. Wyatt." Again Kayton rose as if the interview were ended. Bruce moved toward the door, followed reluctantly by the housekeeper. Before she had gone half-way, however, Mrs. Wyatt turned round. Explosively she burst forth again: "After eleven o'clock! Good gracious! What will my dressmaker say? I'm so sorry, Mr. Kayton. One has to keep appointments on time with a dress- maker just like doctors and dentists, and I suppose it's the same way with detectives. They keep you waiting hours, but that doesn't matter because, you see, you pay them. Do you know what I mean r Bruce bustled her unceremoniously toward the door. Hastily he said: "I'll go down to the taxi with you." "Good-by," said Kayton, with a smile. 148 THE ARGYLE CASE His irony and Bruce's impatience did not escape the housekeeper. Again halting, she exclaimed, testily: "I know you both think I'm talking too much; but when I have anything to say I have to say it my own way. I shouldn't have said anything if you hadn't asked me to—now don't hurry me! I'm not going without saying good-by to Mr. Kayton." Afraid she would come back, the detective has- tened forward. "Good-by, Mrs. Wyatt." "Good-by!" she said, frigidly, with offended dig- nity. She went out grandly, followed by Bruce. They had no sooner disappeared than Leishman appeared. "Gov'nor, will you please sign these papers?" Indicating the room at the back with a nod, he added, quickly: "Miss Masuret is here." "All right," said Kayton, closing his cabinet. Hastening to the door, he opened it and called out: "Come in, Miss Masuret. I'm delighted to see you. How are you to-day?" CHAPTER XIII IT was no longer with fear and trembling that Mary Masuret came into the presence of the world-famous detective. She felt rather that she was coming to see a friend. During all the dark, agonizing days of doubt and suspicion, when every one's hand seemed raised against her, Mr. Kayton alone had shown her kindness and consideration. Instead of an implacable enemy she had found in him a champion. Quickly convinced of her inno- cence, he had taken prompt and effective steps to silence once for all the cruel, baseless rumors that had circulated about her, and he had threatened with legal proceedings any newspaper which printed anything further reflecting upon her character. For this and other services rendered at such a critical time the young girl could not but feel deeply grate- ful. Indeed, it was more than gratitude that she owed him. She felt that she would be hopelessly in his debt all her life. Kayton smilingly held out his hand as the young girl came in, making no effort to conceal the fact that he was glad to see her. She took it shyly, and for a moment they stood, hands clasped, without speaking. Finally, breaking the silence which had begun to embarrass her, he repeated: "How are you this morning?" ISO THE ARGYLE CASE this case that I'll never be able to explain to you. It's bad enough for you to have been dragged into it, and I want to save you all the annoyance I can." Again she clasped her hands ecstatically. "Oh, you're so good to me! I don't know what I'd do without you!" He laughed as he retorted, quickly: "Please—don't try to do without me!" He had leaned forward as he said it, and there was a look in his eyes and an earnestness in his voice that made the girl's cheeks burn. She drew away slightly embarrassed, and the detective, noticing it, pulled himself up with a jerk. Amiably he went on: "To me the pleasantest part of our work is the fact that we are usually able to help some one in trouble. We're different from police detectives. They're paid by society to punish the criminal. We are retained by the victims of the criminals for their protection. They are punishing the strong; we are protecting the weak." She looked at him with a new interest. Quickly she said: "Oh, I didn't realize that! You love your work, don't you?" "Love it! Indeed I do! We are like doctors or surgeons. We go from case to case, or from opera- tion to operation, helping the unfortunate and fighting the disease of crime." With a mischievous sigh he added: "And as in the case of the doctors— when our patients are well, and they've paid us— they soon forget us." She made a quick motion of protest with her hand, and almost involuntarily exclaimed: 152 THE ARGYLE CASE there was serious business to be done he never allowed his mind to dwell on sentiment. Quickly he plunged again into the midst of the work on hand, and when Joe re-entered he found his employer busy preparing the stage-setting for the little comedy he was about to enact with the lady from Tolworthy's. "Get that deep ink-well, Joe." Rummaging about, the assistant finally found what was required and brought it to the desk. Kayton nodded approval. "Where are the prepared blotters?" he whispered. "Second drawer, I think." Kayton opened the drawer and found some. "Here we are!" he chuckled. Placing them on the desk by the side of the ink-well, he added: "All ready, Joe!" The young man started to leave the room. Kayton halted him. "See that we're not disturbed. Don't let any one come in until I ring this bell. Then answer it yourself.'.' Seating himself at the desk, Kayton assumed the appearance of being very preoccupied signing letters. A moment later Joe re-entered ushering in a visitor. "This way, please." A woman of about forty entered and, after one quick, searching glance at the detective, stood still, looking curiously about her. She was plainly, even shabbily dressed, but she had a grand air, and her dignified bearing and the sad, melancholy expression on her wan face suggested that she had known better days. Seeing that the detective did not look up or pay 154 THE ARGYLE CASE any attention to her, she advanced timidly toward the desk. Joe pointed to a chair. "Take a seat, madam. Mr. Kayton will be dis- engaged in just a moment." "Thank you." She sat down, and Joe went out, closing the door. For a few moments there was a deep silence, broken only by the ticking of the office clock and the scratching of the detective's pen as he went on with the signing of his letters. The visitor moved about uneasily on her chair. Presently,without looking up, Kayton said: "You've been referred to me by—" He paused a moment to again sign his name and added: "Mead & Tolworthy?" The visitor turned slightly toward him. Quietly she said: "Yes—I answered their advertisement." Still pretending to be busy, the detective went on: "You have some information concerning the per- son advertised for?" "Yes." He looked up for the first time since she entered, and for a moment he was startled: her likeness to Mary was extraordinary. Fixing her with a steady gaze, he said, quickly: "Then you must know the name those initials N. M. stand for. We took that means of avoiding publicity. You're not a newspaper woman?" She shook her head as she answered quietly: "No—I am Nellie Marsh." He bowed politely. "Oh!" he exclaimed. Then, resuming work on his * . 155 THE ARGYLE CASE correspondence as if not greatly surprised or im- pressed, he went on: "I suppose you have some proof of your identity besides your mere knowledge of the name? She took out a card and, rising, went over to the desk and handed it to him. "My present name is Martin—Mrs. Martin." Kayton took the bit of pasteboard and read it. Dubiously he asked: "East Green Street? Not a very desirable neigh- borhood. Is that your present address?" She nodded. "Yes; I rent furnished rooms. It is very quiet there—and cheap." Again he looked at her keenly. "Furnished rooms?" "Yes." "Well, Mrs. Martin," he said, carelessly, "Mr. Argyle has left a considerable sum of money to Nellie Marsh for reasons that you doubtless know; so we have taken this rather unusual way of getting in touch with you. Did you expect to be a bene- ficiary under the will?" She hesitated a moment before replying. Then quietly she said: "The legacy has been left to me because of an obligation on Mr. Argyle's part to my dead husband, who assisted him at a time when he greatly needed money. There are personal reasons why I don't care to make myself known to the family, and if I can receive this money without any inconvenient curiosity, I should be very glad to have it." He nodded. 156 THE ARGYLE CASE "That can be arranged. All we need is a proof of identity. Have you received money from Mr. Argyle before?" "Yes—for a good many years." "Did you sign receipts?" "No. ..." "Did you ever write to Mr. Argyle?" Again she hesitated before answering: "Not recently." "I ask because it may save a great deal of red tape if we could establish the identity by signature. Otherwise, I suppose you will have to obtain a copy of your birth certificate, make affidavits, and procure witnesses to satisfy the executors and the Probate Court." The visitor shifted uneasily about on her chair. "Wouldn't that involve a good deal of expense?" she asked. He shrugged his shoulders. "I suppose it would—yes. Do you think your signature might be found among his papers?" "Why, yes; my indorsement of checks—if he kept them." In a manner quite cool and unconcerned, Kayton rose from his seat and politely invited her to come behind the desk and take his place. With assumed carelessness, he said: "Well, then, if you'll leave your signature with me I'll turn it over to the lawyers." "Thank you," she smiled. Not suspecting the trap, the visitor removed her glove and, going behind the desk, took the de- tective's seat, while Kayton stood by, apparently iS7 THE ARGYLE CASE with great politeness, and placed a piece of paper for her to write on. Suddenly he dipped a pen deep into the ink-well, and then, as quickly, and as though absent-mindedly, placed the wet pen in her fingers. She took the proferred pen without look- ing, and, finding it was wet and had inked her hand, dropped it with a little exclamation of dismay, holding up her blackened hand with consternation. Instantly Kayton bent over her shoulder, and care- fully dried her hand on the specially prepared blot- ter, securing a good impression. "Oh, I beg your pardon!" he exclaimed. "Don't get it on your glove. Let me. I always forget about that ink-well. Try this pen." Handing her another pen, he passed behind her and threw the inked blotter into the waste-paper basket, after which he resumed his first position near her. Dipping the new pen gingerly into the ink-well, she wrote out her name. Again he bowed politely. "Thank you. That '11 be all." Rising from the chair, the visitor turned to go. "You have my address. I'll hear from you?" Meantime Kayton had picked up the caller's visiting-card and stood reading it. "Yes," he replied. Then, as if an idea had sud- denly struck him, he added: "Just a moment, Mrs. Martin." She stopped short, and he went on: "I'm in a very peculiar position, and it has just oc- curred to me here you might help me." "I?" "I suppose you've followed the newspaper reports of Mr. Argyle's death and our investigation?" iS8 THE ARGYLE CASE "Yes—closely." It did not escape his well-trained eye that she gave an almost imperceptible start at the mention of the murder. Not letting her see that he noticed it, he continued: "Then you have seen that suspicion has been di- rected against his adopted daughter?" Moving farther toward the door, her head averted so he could not see her face, she replied: "Yes—it seemed to me very cruel." He nodded as he went on emphatically: "Exactly. Miss Masuret must be protected from the daily annoyance of reporters and photographers. The poor girl's on the point of breaking down. You know even an innocent woman will do and say things to implicate herself if she's tried beyond the limit of her strength." The visitor gave a little gasp and staggered to a seat. "Yes—yes—of course," she said, sympathetically. Watching her closely, Kayton continued: "She is so watched that it is impossible for us to get her away anywhere without its being known, and yet it is necessary for our purposes to make the real criminal confident that we are off the trail. To be frank with you, we suspect a former member of the household." "Indeed?" she said, guardedly, but in a tone that suggested she was anxious to learn more. Kayton was silent for a moment. Then he went on: "We want Miss Masuret to disappear, and to dis- appear so completely that not even a member of 159 THE ARGYLE CASE connected with this office whom I have chosen for this purpose." "But you hardly know me—I might not be the right sort of person at all," she objected. He smiled encouragingly. "I have been studying you. I'm a fair judge of character; I know I can trust you." She wrung her hands, as if at a loss what to say, unwilling to do what he asked, yet afraid to refuse. "But, Mr. Kayton—" she stammered. He interrupted her. "Even if you had not this sense of gratitude to Mr. Argyle, which I'm sure you must feel, I know I can rely on your sympathy as a woman for a poor girl in a very desperate plight." A silence followed, during which the detective and his visitor looked fixedly at each other, each trying to read the other's thoughts. Did this man, this detective, know when he made this strange request that she could not refuse, that her instinct as a mother urged her to go at once to Mary and clasp the poor child to her bosom? Alas, that happiness she could never know again! The past was forever buried! The girl must never know that her mother was still living. Yet, if her ano- nymity could be preserved, why should she not pro- tect her to the extent of her power? It could do no harm. Her associates could not grudge her that little happiness, and certainly Friederick would deny her nothing. Growing impatient at the delay, Kayton asked, coldly: "Well, what is your decision?" Still wavering, undecided, she looked at him for 161 THE ARGYLE CASE the two. He was thus engaged when his assistant returned. "Be careful of that woman, Joe," he said, warn- ingly. "Is it Miss Masuret's mother?" demanded the young man, eagerly. "Can't you see the family likeness in the face?" Advancing on tiptoe to the desk, the young man inquired: "Did you get her finger-prints?" "Did I?" laughed Kayton, studying the two with a magnifying-glass. "Are they mates?" Suddenly the chief gave a joyful exclamation. "Good God! Look, Joel"' The assistant gave one look, and then uttered a stifled whoop of triumph. "Gee!" Without waiting to see or hear more he jumped for the door and disappeared. Kayton, much amused, picked up the telephone. "Leishman!" The next instant the manager entered the office. Quickly the chief gave him orders. Giving him Mrs. Martin's card, he said: "Tell Nash to start his men on this house in East Green Street right away. Get a room next door so as to take in wires from a detectaphone. Have them shadow and report to me everybody that connects with the place. Tell them to go slow and keep under cover. Get me Miss Masuret." "Yes, sir." Going to the door, he called out: 163 THE ARGYLE CASE "Oh, Miss Masuret!" Mary appeared on the threshold and slowly ad- vanced into the office. Immediately Leishman went out, closing the door. Kayton, seated at his desk, beckoned to the young girl to approach. Gravely, yet with a note of triumph in his voice that he could not entirely conceal, he said: "Miss Masuret, I have found the woman who was in the room when Mr. Argyle was killed." The girl started and turned pale. "A woman!" she exclaimed. He nodded. "I have absolute proof of it here in her finger- prints." She turned quickly, as if about to leave the office. "Oh, we must tell Bruce!" Kayton shook his head. "Not yet. I have no reason for thinking that this woman committed the murder. She may be inno- cent. But she knows who did it, and we can find it out through her." "How?" she asked, breathlessly. He looked at her in silence for a moment. Then, slowly and earnestly, he said: "I'm going to ask you to do something that will take all your courage." "Yes—yes!" "And I know I can rely on you." "What can I do?" she demanded, eagerly. "The people who are responsible for the murder of Mr. Argyle are all, as we say, under cover— they're keeping away from each other. And even if we had them all separately under surveillance, 164 THE ARGYLE CASE this way publicly and then clear you when we find the real criminal?" "Yes—" He saw that she hesitated, and he hastened to re- assure her. "I would never let you do this unless I were abso- lutely sure that you will be safe and that I can clear you later." "Don't think about that," she said, quickly. "I'll do anything you say." He rose from his seat. Earnestly he said: "Thank you. Mrs. Martin is here. Will , you go now?" The girl trembled, but bravely she said: "Yes, I will go." As he pressed an electric button, he said: "You understand that if you do the slightest thing to betray yourself, everything fails." "I won't fail you," she replied, firmly. As she spoke, the assistant entered. Kayton looked up. "Joe, bring in Mrs. Martin." The young man went out,and the detective turned to Mary. "Have you money enough with you?" "Yes." Then all at once she burst out: "Oh— I dread to meet her!" She looked at him as if expecting some expression of sympathy, but there was no sentiment in him now. His head was filled only with business. Coldly he answered: "I must ask you to show no feeling of repulsion for this woman." 166 THE ARGYLE CASE "I won't, I won't," she gasped in a whisper. Steps were heard approaching. The dreaded meeting was at hand. Mary gripped hold of the chair near her and stood rigidly waiting. The door opened, and Mrs. Martin entered. Instantly the woman's eyes sought the young girl, and as she staggered rather than walked forward there was in her line-marked face an expression of dread, curiosity, and yearning maternal affection in spite of her effort at self-command. She halted and stood still, her eyes fixed on Mary. Kayton, busy at his desk, pretended to notice nothing. In a businesslike manner, he said: "Mrs. Martin, this is Miss Masuret." Again the woman advanced, this time her hands outstretched. Her lips trembling, her voice betray- ing the supreme effort she was making to remain calm, she said, very gently: "My dear, will you come with me?" At the word, Mary relaxed slowly and turned and looked at her. Then, as if unconsciously drawn to her, she crossed over to the stranger, and put a hand in the one outstretched to receive it, and so they stood for a moment looking earnestly into each other's eyes, while Kayton sat as if still preoccupied at his desk. CHAPTER XIV EAST GREEN STREET, Manhattan, had an unsavory reputation. It boasted of being the wickedest street of its size in the world. The favorite resort of gunmen and desperadoes of all kinds, it was known to the police as one of the plague spots in the city, and although from time to time public clamor had been raised to clean the thor- oughfare out, nothing had been done. Thanks to political pull enjoyed by the local dive-keepers, there was open defiance of law and decency, and all kinds of dangerous joints had been permitted to run wide open in the neighborhood. In the very center of the big town's most congested and vicious dis- trict, just oflf the Bowery, it was the preferred haunt of every known variety of crook. Burglars, pick- pockets, confidence men, prostitutes, cadets—all met here in obscure, sinister saloons to plot and scheme new jobs in this sordid clearing-house of crime. Not only was it one of the foulest, but it was also one of the narrowest and tortuous thoroughfares in the metropolis. Unlike most New York streets, it did not run in a straight line, but followed a curved, zigzag course through the foulest of the city's slums. The ill-paved roadway, never cleaned or flushed, was full of cesspools and refuse which, having been allowed to rot in the rain and sun, sent up a stench 168 THE ARGYLE CASE that shrieked to heaven. On either side towered grim, hideous tenements with broken windows patched with paper, rusty fire-escapes littered with rubbish, and dark, sinister halls, the plaster of which had long since fallen in great chunks, exposing the wooden lathing. In the daytime, when the sun- light invaded every nook and corner, exposing the filth and squalor in its most hideous aspect, there was little vestige of life. Occasionally a half-starved cat limped across the road in hope of scratching a meal out of a heap of decaying garbage, and from time to time sounds of drunken revelry issued from behind tightly closed shutters. Otherwise, the street appeared deserted by God and man. One house alone showed indications of being occu- pied. A trifle less dilapidated than its neighbors, it was a four-story building with a high stoop and a heavy door always kept locked. Its occupants were seldom if ever seen out. At times a face would ap- pear at a window and was as instantly withdrawn if any chance passer happened to glance that way. At night lights glimmered behind the closely shut shutters of the attic floor, apparently the only part of the house inhabited. If one stood outside under cover of a hallway and watched the house long enough, the inmates might be seen slinking forth under cover of the darkness of night, passing fur- tively in and out, ever careful to glance behind to see if they were followed. To-day again there was a face at the attic window, the face of a woman once beautiful, but now worn and haggard, seamed with indelible lines of time and sorrow. Cautiously opening the wooden shutter, she 12 169 THE ARGYLE CASE a start. An electric buzzer, carefully concealed over the transom of the door, was emitting a loud, crackling sound, giving warning of some one's approach. Who was it? Her heart in her mouth, she ran out on the landing and, looking over the shaky bannisters, gave an exclamation of joy. It was Friederick. A mo- ment later the counterfeiter entered the room. A man in the early fifties, tall, thin, and rather gaunt, Friederick Kreisler would have attracted im- mediate attention anywhere. A leonine head was crowned by a mass of iron-gray hair, not long, but picturesquely disheveled. His eyes were intense, and flashed like living coals under heavy dark brows. Distinguished in appearance, with a smooth, intellectual-looking face, few could have guessed that the greater part of this man's life had been spent in prison, and that he was one of the most expert and dangerous counterfeiters that ever gave trouble to the United States government. He smiled wearily as he came in and saw who was there to greet him. His face was pale, his features drawn. He stooped slightly, and had a harassing cough. "I was so anxious, dear," she faltered. "I was afraid they'd got you." Again he smiled—the tired smile of a man who realizes that the end is not far off", that the battle is nearly ended, and that in a little while nothing will matter very much. He kissed her in silence and stroked her hair tenderly. "My dear heart, you are very tired," he mur- mured. She looked beseechingly up into his face. 172 THE ARGYLE CASE "Friederick, I want you to give it all up. Let's go away!" Drawing slightly away, he looked down at her with surprise. Almost reproachfully he said: "Where is your courage, my dear? Where is your courage?" She averted her face so he should not see her tears, and sank down in a chair near the table. "I don't know, Friederick. I'm terribly afraid. I'm panic-stricken. There's been too much — too much—Argyle's death—" He held up his hand warningly. "'Ssh!" Tearfully she went on: "And yesterday with that detective! Oh, I shouldn't have gone there!" Hanging up his coat and changing it for a lighter one, Kreisler made an exclamation of impatience. "That was Hurley's advice! Always greedy for money!" She shook her head. "No. I risked it myself—for the money—honest money. I wanted to be able to say to you: 'Here, now we have enough. Let us cut loose from this life—from all these people.' Friederick, I want to be safe!" He laughed carelessly as he unlocked a secret drawer in the table and lifted out a tin box which he also leisurely unlocked. "Foolish little fears," he said. "We are safe enough here. Think of all the years that I've spent to make us safe." Raising the lid of the box and taking out a new ten-dollar bill, he held it up exultingly: 173 THE ARGYLE CASE "Look at it—isn't it perfect! I could pass that even to the experts of the Treasury. It will be the first time in the history of the world, and it is I who shall do it! In a few weeks the whole country will be flooded with them—Chicago, Denver, San Francisco, New Orleans, Boston, and New York— all on the same day! Then we can go out with the whole world for our playground." She shook her head as she replied bitterly: "Yes! Yes! But we shall always be hunted— hunted wherever we go. We can never get away from it. It's too big, Friederick—it's too big. They'd never let a man who could make a bill like that escape. You know that if one of these men were caught he'd betray you to save himself. The gov- ernment would pardon him—would pardon them all—to get you. Safe! Every prison in the world would be yawning for you." He listened in silence while he put the counterfeit note away again and carefully relocked the box. When she mentioned the word "prison" the lines about his mouth tightened. Calmly yet deter- minedly he said: "I shall never go to prison again! If I'm caught I'll kill myself." With a sound that was like a sob she cried: "Then I hope to God you'll kill me, too, Friederick. I'd never have the courage to kill myself, and it would be the end of everything for me." Leaning forward on the table, she let her head fall on her outstretched arms, and remained there motionless, a pathetic figure of an unhappy, broken woman. 174 THE ARGYLE CASE His eyes moistened as he watched her. His heart bled for this woman who had sacrificed everything for him. Caressing her, he said, gently: "Ah, you are the great soul! You gave up every- thing for me. You left everybody. You gave up even your little daughter. You shared prison with me, and I—I am the selfish one! And now, when I say I would take my life, you would share death with me! Ah, you are the great soul!" Raising her head, she looked up and smiled at him through her tears. "Oh, if I could only make you feel as I do! I'm so depressed! Friederick, this is a great thing that you've invented—this process of color photography. Think what can be done with it. It would bring fame to you and an honest fortune." He nodded. "Yes, my love, in an honest world. But they would cheat me. They would steal it; and, see, I must have money to finance it—to protect it. Then when all this blows over—in Germany, per- haps—who knows?" She shook her head. Sadly she said: "I'm growing too old to play the game any longer." He smiled kindly at her, and his hand caressed her hair as he answered: "That will never be. It is not we who grow old. It is the little fat life that gathers gray mold like a cheese. You and I, mein herz, we keep young with living—loving! Fear, trouble, disgrace, prison, separation, poverty, love, happiness, hope, wealth— that is to live." 175 THE ARGYLE CASE "Oh, I know, Friederick! You love the gamble— the danger—you love it better than safety and happi- ness. Now when we could have each other, a little money—this legacy—to live on, you'll go ahead this way and risk your life and my life. If we're caught it's nothing but the snap of a trigger to you, but to me it would be years and years of hateful, empty life alone." She rose and, going over to the window, stood looking out into the street. "How shall a man change himself? It's the ad- venture in me you love," he went on. "No, no, it isn't that. I would go through any- thing with you or for you, but this means that I'm risking you! I know you would kill yourself with- out a thought that you would be leaving me." He rose and approached her. Earnestly he said: "I tell you I can never go to prison again with those brutes to be flogged and degraded. I came out after those ten years of torture, all the color gone out of my skin, all the life gone out of my legs! I came out after those ten years to get even with the world, and they shall never put their dirty hands on me again while I am alive!" She made an exclamation of terror and staggered a step toward him, unable to speak, holding out her hand in silent protest. Already regretting the self- ish brutality of his speech, he made a quick step forward and seized her in his arms. Soothingly he exclaimed: "Mein Liebschen, what difference would it make? If they catch me now they would never let me free to be with you again. I would die then by inches." 176 THE ARGYLE CASE She threw her arms around his neck. "Oh, if you'd only listen to me—if you'd only come away—if you'd only come away!" As she spoke the electric buzzer again gave out its warning. Some one had entered the house and was coming up the stairs. Quickly Kreisler put the box inside the table and slipped a revolver in his pocket. Some one was coming. Was it friend or foe? THE ARGYLE CASE premises, and during these visits he contrived, with Joe's agile assistance, to make elaborate preparations preliminary to a spectacular raid. The greatest secrecy had to be observed. Constantly on the watch, guarded by their lookouts and electric buzz- ers, Kreisler and his associates considered them- selves immune. If they had known Kayton better, they would have been less confident and doubled their vigilance. As it was, they suspected nothing and continued working with a sense of full security. The preparations took time, but they were im- perative. It would have been simple enough to surround the house and make arrests wholesale, but Kayton would not then have learned what he wanted to know. He had conceived the idea, and it was one that grew stronger each minute, that if he could only listen and overhear the members of the gang talking he would have something that would lead right to the man who killed Mr. Argyle. Feeling quite secure and secluded in their attic, so far from prying ears, the counterfeiters talked freely. This conversation they must listen to, and there was only one way to do it. They must install the detectaphone, and have several of his own men concealed at the other end of the wire taking down every word verbatim. Once the idea conceived, he quickly carried it out, and, aided by his operatives, he profited one day by the house being deserted to install this astonishing little instrument, the most sensitive transmitter of sound known to modern science. It was Kayton who had first used the apparatus in his work and attracted attention to its possibilities as a detector of crime. Most of his convictions, especially in the graft cases, 179 THE ARGYLE CASE had been secured by its use, and he himself was enthusiastic in its praise. For all detective purposes or use wherever secret observation and reporting of conversation is necessary he had proved it invalu- able. By its use his operator at the receiving end was enabled to hear every audible sound made in the room where the transmitter was concealed. Con- versation carried on in undertones and even whis- pers was distinctly heard a long distance away. Two pairs of receivers could be used, thus securing cor- roborative evidence. The transmitter was so con- structed that it caught and transmitted sounds that were scarcely distinguishable to the human ear; whispers and undertones that could not be heard under normal conditions a few feet away were readily picked up and transmitted by this instrument to listeners stationed a considerable distance off. The re- ceivers reproduced the natural tones used by the per- sons at the transmitting end of the line, and they could be so tuned that the voice was magnified many times. After considerable difficulty Kayton had succeeded in concealing the transmitter, in the Kreisler attic when there was no possible danger of its being dis- covered, and the wire he had carried into the adjoin- ing house, the entire top floor of which he had rented for the purpose. There his operatives, seated night and day at the receivers, heard every word the counterfeiters said, and secured the evidence on which Kayton obtained the warrant for his raid. Keeping themselves well hidden, he and his men had for days watched the coming and going of the gang. With the faces of several of them Kayton was already familiar. Post-graduates in crime, the pictures of 180 THE ARGYLE CASE Yet it worried him to feel that the young girl was exposed to danger, and what astonished and worried him even more was to find that he cared. He had been so long a bachelor that it never occurred to him that he was capable of taking more than a passing interest in any woman. A man in his business, fighting desperate characters with his back to the wall, had little time for the milder, sweeter interests of life. The terms "love," "wife," "home" were to him only empty phrases. A soldier, fighting society's battle with the forces of evil, he had never stopped to think there was a quieter, more peaceful kind of existence that might appeal to him more. This girl, with her quiet, refined manner, her patience and gentleness under all kinds of provocation, had from the outset gained his sympathy. Then, as each day he learned to know her better, he recognized what an excep- tional nature hers was. During the day he found himself thinking of her when he should have been thinking only of his work. Strange unusual thoughts surged madly through his brain. Why should not he too marry and be settled and happy like other men? It was just such a girl as this that he would like for his wife. The trying task of keeping a constant vigil and listening in silence to every word uttered next door Kayton had intrusted to six of his best operatives, and they were on duty night and day, three men working in the daytime, the others at night. They sat there in grim silence, the metal receivers glued to their heads and connected with the house next door by wires running out of the window. It was a tedious task, watching and listening, and 182 THE DETECTAPHONE INSTALLED IN THE COUNTERFEITERS' DEN THE ARGYLE CASE the kind of work that got on the nerves. Joe urged an immediate raid, but Kayton's prudence and longer experience prompted him to wait. The moment had not yet come. One day their watching was rewarded beyond all expectation. Kayton was at the receiver of the detectaphone, listening to scraps of conversation, when suddenly some one laughed. Instantly the detective pricked up his ears. He knew only one man who could laugh like that—a boisterous, coarse laugh which reminded one of a horse neighing. There could be no mistake. It was Mr. Hurley, the dead banker's legal adviser. What was he doing in that den of thieves? The suspicion the detective had from his first talk with the man returned all at once with redoubled force. If Hurley knew these crooks and had dealings with them, it was more than probable that he knew more about the murder than he had admitted. Kayton felt a thrill run down his spine. The scent was getting hotter every minute. He began to feel that the murderer of John Argyle was within his reach. He strained every nerve to listen, in the hope that he would hear something that would confirm his suspicions, but the conversation was general and punctuated from time to time with the lawyer's laugh. The only definite thing he could overhear was that they were all to meet again the following evening. That was enough for Kayton. The mo- ment for the raid had come. "It's for to-morrow night, Joe!" he whispered to his assistant. "Get your men ready." THE ARGYLE CASE woman who did not care for him. The first oppor- tunity he got he would find out just how he stood in her estimation. Meantime, sterner work was before him. There was little time now to be lost on sentiment. Next door the three operatives sat motionless, waiting for some sign, listening patiently for a signal that everything was all right. Nash was nodding in his chair, while Cortwright puffed leisurely at a cob pipe. Sinclair, his long legs up on the table, sat at the end of the detectaphone receiver, also dozing. "I wonder why the boss don't call us? He must be next door all this time." Nash looked up. "Say, Bob, is your detectaphone working?" "Not yet. Is yours?" "Not a sound. But don't worry; they'll be work- ing overtime pretty soon." Sinclair made a quick gesture with his hand. "Hush, boys! I hear voices. Some one's com- ing in." THE ARGYLE CASE "Just watch the stairs for us. They may return any minute." She went as directed and stood on guard at the door through which they had entered. Quickly Kayton turned to his assistant. "Say, Joe, connect that detectaphone out of the window. Be careful!" Grimly the detective went on: "That was classy work of yours, my boy—lift- ing Mrs. Martin's handbag with all her keys." Joe grinned. Moving about the room, flashing his light over the table and cupboards, he replied: "She certainly did keep her hooks on it. I had so much trouble getting it, I hate to part with it." Kayton smiled approvingly. "Joe, you're getting to be a first-class dip." Throwing up the window, the young man nimbly climbed out onto the fire-escape. Laughingly he retorted: "Well, I'm a better pickpocket than Sam. He chased her every time she put her nose out of this house yesterday. It took me only two hours. I didn't have to give up my cover to any department- store sleuth, either.". Opening one of the cupboards, Kayton threw his flashlight all round. "I'd like to search this rat-hole thoroughly." "Guess you've got time enough, gov'nor. They won't miss the bag till they're through dinner. And they may hang around there, trying to get one of the waiters pinched." "Not much. They won't want to have any more attention paid to them by the police than they can avoid." 188 THE ARGYLE CASE Suddenly Mary, at the door, made a slight ex- clamation of warning: "Hush!" "What is it?" asked Kayton, in a tense whisper and ready for any emergency. "It's all right," she whispered. "I thought I heard some one." The detective turned again to his assistant. "Joe, you're getting to be a great plumber." The young man chuckled. As he tested the wires out on the fire-escape, he said: "Well, we're going to get great results with this detectaphone; this one's going to be the live wire, all right." "Be careful, Joe. Break your neck if you want to, but don't break that wire." "I don't want to break either, thank you." After making sure that the connections were properly made outside, the young man attached the wire from the detectaphone with the loose end from next door. When the job was completed to his satisfaction, he looked up and said: "The wire's connected, gov'nor." Kayton turned to the dead wall behind which, in the next house, his operatives were waiting. In a low, perfectly natural tone he said: "Boys, if the wires are working, and you hear me speaking, wave a handkerchief from your window." Opening the window at the back, Joe thrust his head out to look for the expected signal. After a moment's wait he drew in his head and cried, exultantly: 189 THE ARGYLE CASE "All right, gov'nor; they get it." Still on guard at the door, Mary began to grow uneasy. "Don't you think you ought to come now?" she whispered, anxiously. Kayton held his hand out to his assistant. "Give me that other 'phone, Joe." Then, going toward the young girl, he said: "Miss Masuret, here is the detectaphone. Conceal it in your room as I explained to you. Drop the wire out of the window, and my men will connect with it." She nodded. "I understand." At that instant a whistle was heard in the street below. Quickly Joe turned to his chief. "There's our signal, gov'nor. Kreisler and his gang are coming." Kayton made a quick gesture. "You go back to the other house by the roof and get on the detectaphone. Don't leave the receiver —you stick to it until you hear from me—and then obey it instantly." "All right, gov'nor, I'll stick." Mary turned to the detective in surprise. "Aren't you going with him?" "No," he answered, quickly; "I'm going to stay here with you." "Oh, don't! They'll kill you!" "I've heard that before," he smiled, grimly. On top of the transom over the door the electric buzzer flashed and spit ominously. Not an instant was to be lost. Another moment and they would be discovered. 190 THE ARGYLE CASE first-class detective doing second-story work in a third-class tenement? Here, Nash, give me that receiver." "The damn thing's glued to my ear," growled Nash, trying to detach it. He yanked the steel apparatus off" and handed it to the new-comer, who, by Kayton's order, was in general charge. Surrendering his place to Joe, the latter sat down and adjusted the receiver to his head. In a tense whisper he said: "Now, boys, you want to sit tight. We may be in for some rough work." As he spoke there was the sound of a door shutting next door. Joe held up a warning hand. "Hush! They're here! Now they'll start to chatter, and when they do we've got 'em." There followed a dead silence, broken only by the scratching pencils as the listening men started to write rapidly on their pads. CHAPTER XVIII KREISLER entered the attic, followed by a lanky, cadaverous-looking individual with an anemic, crafty-looking face. Dressed in the height of fashion affected by the flashy gentry of the underworld, he had on a tight-fitting check suit, low shoes, red socks and tie, and a rakish, flat-brimmed derby hat jauntily on the back of his head. A gold fob dangled from his waistcoat, and on his fingers were a couple of showy rings. A crafty, furtive expression on his- face, Simeon Gage looked just what he was—one of the slickest pickpockets in the country. Addicted to morphine, his complexion was yellow and un- wholesome, and from his lips hung the inevitable cigarette. Usually Simeon was in good humor, being the pampered baby of the gang; but to-day some- thing had occurred to upset him. While Kreisler went forward to turn up the lamp, he grumbled: "Say, Fred, we'll have to get all these locks changed, now Mrs. Martin's lost her bag. We might as well go to bed with the front door open." The counterfeiter shrugged his shoulders. In- differently he answered: "There was nothing in the bag to show what house the keys fit." Going over to the corner, the pickpocket threw himself on the sofa. Drolly he said: 193 THE ARGYLE CASE "Yes, I know, Doctor, but I'm not for taking any chances. The dip that got her keys might see you coming out of here sometime, or he might see her in the street and follow her home. This isn't the sort of place we'd like to entertain a sneak-thief in—is it? He'd blackmail us for life!" Kreisler laughed. "You've got too much imagination for this busi- ness, Simmie. You ought to go back to your old confidence game." Opening the closet, he took off his coat, hung it up, and slipped on a loose house-coat. The pickpocket, still unsatisfied, sat bolt upright. "Well, to tell ye the truth, I've been uneasy lately —ever since that girl came, in fact. Do ye know, I thought I was being shadowed yesterday—" He stopped and looked admiringly down at his rings. Kreisler smiled. "You're always thinking you're being followed. You must have a bad conscience." i Removing the cloth from the table, the counter- feiter folded it carefully and placed it on a chair close by. The pickpocket nodded. Dolefully he replied: "I think p'haps I am hittin' too many cigarettes. I don't know what's wrong. Something certainly must be the matter if people can come and pick our pockets like that." Rising from the sofa, he went over to the cupboard and stood near Kreisler. Still grumbling, he went on: "Anyhow, I don't think we ought to have that girl here. Some cheap divorce-case detective will be 194 THE ARGYLE CASE rounding us up next. Who is she, anyway? I called up Hurley and asked him about her. Why doesn't he know about her?" Returning to the closet, Kreisler took out a pan and tools, which he carried to the table. Then going to a cupboard, he unlocked it and, taking out a bottle, poured some liquid into a measuring-glass. He listened in silence to his companion. After a pause he replied slowly: "There was no time to tell him." Gage pulled a grimace. "You've had lots of chances to tell me." Kreisler looked the youth full in the face. Calmly he said: "It's none of your damned business, Simmie." The pickpocket took the snub as gracefully as he could. Peevishly he said: "Well, I feel nervous as a rabbit with that strange woman around." Sitting down at the table, Kreisler picked up what looked like a brand-new ten-dollar bill and a pair of rubber gloves. Watching curiously his com- panion's preparations, Gage inquired: "Are you going to work now?" "Yes." The crook made a step forwaia. Eagerly he said: "Can I help you?" "I think not," replied Kreisler, dryly. "I think I have everything I need. I'm just going to do a little bleaching." Going again to the closet, the counterfeiter brought out a measuring-glass, two small bottles, and a 195 THE ARGYLE CASE package of bogus banknotes, all of which he carried to the table. The pickpocket stood watching him in silence for a moment. Then sullenly he said: "Bleaching—you're always bleaching. Doctor, it peeves me—it near drives me dippy to see you wash- ing the real money out of a perfectly good one-dollar bill." He picked up one of the bills and fingered it, after which he replaced it on the table. While Kreisler arranged a frame on the table for drying the bills, he went on peevishly: "Your photographic process may be all right, but, damn it, wouldn't it be a whole lot cheaper if you'd fake the paper?" Kreisler shrugged his shoulders and made no reply. Going again to the closet, he brought out a money- box and, drawing up a chair near the table, placed the box on it and unlocked it. After a pause he said: "That is the way with you Americans. No patience, no science, no—artistry—half baked— get rich quick! Perfection is an affair of little things, but perfection is not a little thing." Sitting at the table, he proceeded to draw on the right-hand rubber glove, while the pickpocket, over- awed by the leader's superior manners and way of expressing himself, watched him admiringly. Finally, unable to contain his admiration, he burst out: "Doctor, you've got a wonderful bunch of stuff in your nut. But I notice you're keepin' all you know right under your own hat. You don't do nothing but bleach when we're round. Some day 196 THE ARGYLE CASE you'll go off to Scotland with your money, like Andy Carnegie, and leave us all workin' in the mills." Kreisler made no answer, but went on working in silence. Presently he gave vent to an impatient exclamation. "Damn these rubber gloves! I would like to be in the rubber trust. They put out a cheaper counter- feit than I would dare. Get me another pair from my room." He threw the torn glove on the floor and proceeded to hang the wet bills on the frame. Gage, stooping, picked up the glove. Soothingly he said: "Never mind, Doctor. You're all right with your color photography, but I get tired sittin' round here waitin' for you to pull off" your masterpieces. When are we goin' to start to shove 'em? I want to begin buyin' bonds in Wall Street." Kreisler laughed. Drawing the rubber glove on his right hand, he replied: "Be patient, Simmie, be patient. You shall, and we shall be paying for counterfeit with counterfeit! Counterfeit stock certificates for counterfeit gold certificates! There is nothing in the Treasury to back their stock certificates, and the government protects them and prosecutes us." The pickpocket snickered. "Doctor, that's the difference between promotin' and counterfeitin'." Rising from his seat, he added: "Well, I must be getting on the job. It's theater- hour in the street-cars. Bunch of swell guys all wear- ing glad rags and sparklers. I ought to be able to get some of 'em. Ta-ta! See you again, old sport." 197 THE ARGYLE CASE erable monotony. Besides, I am late with these bills. We must make haste to finish the job and get away before the police find us." She drew back and looked at him anxiously. "Oh, Friederick, do you think there is any danger of our being discovered?" He shrugged his shoulders. "There is always that danger, careful as we mav be. How do we know that the house is not watched? I noticed a stranger loitering about the street as I came in." Mrs. Martin clasped her hands in distress. Im- ploringly she cried: "Then come, Friederick! Don't let us wait till it's too late. If you think we're watched, let us get away while we can." He shook his head. Doggedly he replied: "I won't go till my work is done." "But they may get you." "No, they won't. They may get my body, but not me." "You'd kill 3'ourself?" "Yes, I'd kill myself." She threw her arms desperately around his neck. Imploringly she cried: "But think of me, Friederick! Think of me! What would I do if you were gone?" He turned and patted her affectionately on the cheek. "Don't worry, dear. They haven't got Fred Kreisler yet. I'll give a good account of myself, I promise you." Reassured, she smiled again. Lightly she said: 199 THE ARGYLE CASE "Perhaps we exaggerate the danger. How should they find us out here?" He shook his head. "They can find a needle in the dark. It's their business. You never know when you give them a clue. I don't think it was wise to bring that girl here. I know I gave my consent, but it was a mistake." "I couldn't help it," she replied, hurriedly. "It would have aroused Kayton's suspicion if I had refused. He would have at once suspected some- thing was wrong and come here to investigate. Then the jig would have been up." Kreisler nodded. "You are right, dear. There was no way out of it." As he spoke the electric buzzer spluttered and crackled. Some one had opened the street-door and was coming up-stairs. Quickly Kreisler jumped up. "That must be Skidd!" he exclaimed. Going to the top of the stairs, he peered over a moment, while she watched him anxiously. After a few moments he returned into the room and said: "No, it's Hurley." Mrs. Martin made a gesture of disapproval. "Hurley? He ought to know better than this. He oughtn't—to come here now." "It's because Gage telephoned him 'about that girl." "Oh yes." Kreisler laughed. Cynically he said: "He is always finding fault with the things we do, and it is he who makes the mistakes." 200 THE ARGYLE CASE had taken leave of her senses. Throwing up his arms in indignant astonishment, he cried: "My God! Are you crazy?" She shook her head as she replied, quietly: "It would have been crazy to refuse." For a moment the attorney was too much over- come to speak. Finally he spluttered: "This is a plant!" "Listen," she began. But he refused to listen. He saw only the danger to them all by this girl's presence in the house. No doubt everything that had occurred had already been reported to Kayton. Throwing up his hands in discouragement, he cried: "The one person in the world that you should have kept farthest away from!" Kreisler looked up. With some impatience he exclaimed: "Don't talk so much, Hurley! Listen! Listen!" Mrs. Martin drew up a chair. Bending forward, she said, earnestly: "When I went in yesterday—about the legacy— he was planning to have the girl disappear. He wanted to protect her from reporters. And besides, he suspected some one in the Argyle house, and he wanted to throw suspicion on her and put them off their guard. It was my telling him I had furnished rooms that put the idea in his head. He thought, of course, that I must be under obligations to Mr. Argyle. I couldn't refuse to take her without arousing his suspicions. How could I? What ex- cuse could I give? I couldn't tell him why we didn't want her here." 202 THE ARGYLE CASE of an ass like Kayton. Hilariously he burst out again: "Oh, it's all advertising! He's a pinhead!" Going back to the table and pointing to the things scattered about the room, he added: "If he knew the tricks of some of this double-jointed furniture, eh, Kreisler?" Again the counterfeiter held up his hand warn- ingly. "Hush! Not so loud!" More calmly, the attorney went on: "Have you see the papers? They're full of her flight. Everybody is sure of her guilt now." Mrs. Martin looked up anxiously. "How terrible! Who is it that Kayton suspects?" The lawyer smiled. With self-satisfaction he said: "How could you guess? A man with a mind like that! I suppose he thinks it's Bruce—because he hasn't taken him into his confidence. The boy's distracted; he's got the whole city searching for her." Mrs. Martin turned to Kreisler. Anxiously she said: "Friederick, if they never find out the truth, they'll never clear her. And if they do find out—" Mr. Hurley interrupted her with a gesture. Scornfully he exclaimed: "Oh, they'll never find out! Kayton will cook up some story to vindicate the girl and cover his failure." Rising from his seat, he went toward the door. Turning, he asked: "Has he been here?" 204 THE ARGYLE CASE Kayton? Oh no; I've too much sense of humor for that!" Again he laughed hilariously. Kreisler held up a warning hand and he stopped abruptly. Turning quickly on his heel, he stammered a hasty good night, and disappeared. CHAPTER XIX LOCKING the door carefully behind the lawyer, J Kreisler came back to where Mrs. Martin was sitting. Shaking his head ominously, he said: "He should have kept away from that detective. It is a bad thing when apprehension makes a man too bold. He should not sniff around traps." As he spoke the electric buzzer sounded. Mrs. Martin, startled, half jumped up, but the counter- feiter waved her back. "It's only Hurley going out," he said, calmly. He sank into a chair and sat staring moodily into space, while his companion sat and watched him in silence. At last, as if giving expression to thoughts that had been worrying her, she exclaimed: "Friederick, what have I done to Mary? I've tried to keep our lives as far apart as I could, but it seems as if the devil had drawn us together to ruin her." Kreisler shook his head. "It is not so. It's the luck of the game—just a little bad luck. It will pass." Again the buzzer sounded its crackling note of warning. Once more Mrs. Martin sprang to her feet, Kreisler following more leisurely. Going to the door, he said: "That must be Skidd." He has been gone a long time. Something must have detained him." 207 THE ARGYLE CASE "Don't you? Do you believe I'm drunk? Well, they didn't get me so drunk I couldn't keep my eye on them." Mrs. Martin advanced toward them. "Who is it? What has happened?" she demanded. The pickpocket gave his tight trousers a significant hitch. "Some one's on to us," he leered. Calmed sufficiently to get his breath, Skidd ex- plained what had aroused his suspicion. "A wise young guy tried to warm up to me in a saloon, and I couldn't get him drunk—and, believe me, there's something doing when I can't get a man drunk. He was pouring his into the spittoon. When I shook him off I hiked around here and got a look out. They keep passing the house. They don't stop, but they're the same ones, and there's a new newsboy over on the corner. That's damn funny, now, ain't it?" Kreisler listened in silence. What he heard must have made some impression on him, for in the midst of Skidd's narrative he went quickly to the table and began to remove all vestiges of incriminating evidence. He took the banknotes from the drying- frame, put the bottle, pan, glove, and measuring- glass in the cupboard, extinguished the lamp, and replaced the tin money-box in the closet. Going to Mrs. Martin, he took from her the photographic camera and put it also in the closet, which he locker". Skidd staggered to his feet and looked at his com- panions as if asking them to offer some explanation. But no one spoke, and he went on: "What I want to know is, are they after us, or are 209 THE ARGYLE CASE they after that new skirt you've got in here? Who is she? What's she wanted for? What are we running here, anyway—a white-slave annex?" Mrs. Martin shook her head. "She's all right, Skidd. She's not wanted for anything. I know all about her." "Well, what's she so damned mysterious about herself for? What do you keep her shut up in that room for? I may be drunk, but I ain't so drunk I can't be suspicious. I want to see that girl." "That's impossible," said Mrs. Martin, quietly. He eyed her suspiciously. "Why is it impossible? There's something wrong around here, and it's all happened since that girl came —your pocket picked, me pickled, and a bunch of plain-clothes men patrolling the block. We need a quiet life for this business." Tearfully he added: "I'd like to look her over. She can't fool me. I've got a light burning in one good eye that ain't drunk." Gage pointed to the door. Warningly he said: "Well, Bill, you'd better hit the hay. You've got a ticket for a long dream." Skidd grinned. "Come on down, Simmie, and tuck me in." As Kreisler unlocked the door the pickpocket shook his head. "I've got too much tuckin' in to do right here, Bill. You go along now—get sobered up. We may need you." The fellow started toward the door. When he reached it he turned round, and in a maudlin manner he stammered: 2IO CHAPTER XX HE detective came boldly in, making a great fuss A of virtuous indignation and concealing only with difficulty the satisfaction he felt at the excellent op- portunity which Skidd's drunken familiarity had af- forded to meet the crooks at close range. Mary, realizing that the long-dreaded crisis was now at hand, but determined to help to the extent of her power the man who had rendered her such signal and unforgettable service, stood in the background pale and trembling. Advancing threateningly on the retreating and now thoroughly sobered Skidd, Kayton thundered: "What do you mean by trying to force your way into this young lady's room?" Turning to Mrs. Martin, he added: "Mrs. Martin, is this the sort of protection she's to have in your house?" For all reply she turned to the ofFender and pointed to the door. Sharply she said: "Mr. Skidd, go to your room." Then address- ing Kayton, she added, apologetically: "He's been drinking." Prodded by Gage, the bibulous and befuddled Skidd went protestingly to the door, still unable to understand what the stranger was doing there or why his associates seemed to be disposed to take his part. 212 THE ARGYLE CASE For a moment she looked at him and made no reply. Then with an effort she said: "Mr. Kay ton, I think it would be much better if you would take Miss Masuret away. You can see for yourself that I can't protect her in a house of this sort. I can't have the responsibility." Kayton shrugged his shoulders. With studied carelessness he replied: "I can't take her away now. This house is being watched." The woman started violently. "What do you mean?" she exclaimed. The detective hastened to explain. "It has evidently leaked out that she is here. They may be reporters. They may be police de- tectives. Young Mr. Argyle has the whole force searching for her. I can't take her away without showing my hand, and she can't go alone. Isn't there a back way so you could escape with her to a hotel?" Mrs. Martin shook her head. "It's impossible," she murmured. Mary now stepped forward. "Let me go alone," she said. "No—no!" Cautiously Kayton went to the door and opened it with a quick jerk, as if expecting to surprise an eavesdropper. Finding no one, he closed it again and came to where the woman stood. Addressing Mrs. Martin, he said, firmly: "You've got to go!" She shook her head. Firmly she said: "I shall not leave this house." 214 THE ARGYLE CASE sitting. Standing before her with folded arms, he said, deliberately: "Mrs. Martin, my men are watching this house. The 'Personal' you answered was a plant." His listener started up in terror and then sank back with a groan as he went on: "There was no such legacy. I discovered that you and your husband are engaged with others in a gigantic counterfeiting scheme. I cannot promise you immunity from prosecution, but if you will do what is right by assisting the law, that fact will be taken into consideration by the prosecuting officers. I may be able to assist you there; but in return you must do something for me. "What?" she asked, almost inarticulately. "Who killed John Argyle?" Rising to her feet, she staggered to the door. "Why do you ask me? I don't know! I don't know!" "You're the one person who does know!" "I don't know anything about it." "You do, and you can save yourself by telling." She halted, her face deathly pale, and supported herself on the back of a chair. Tremulously she said: "I don't care for myself! I don't care but for one thing in the world! What are you going to do to Dr. Kreisler? What are you going to do to Dr. Kreisler?" Kay ton shook his head. "I can't do anything for Dr. Kreisler." She gave a shriek like an infuriated tigress. "You must! You shall!" she screamed, at the top of her voice. 216 THE ARGYLE CASE in the direction of the detectaphone. Loudly he exclaimed: "I'm trapped, boys! Come and get me!" Mary, in an agony of suspense, not knowing what dreadful tragedy each second would bring, retreated to the end of the room, covering her face with her hands. The excitement was too much for her nerves. As she saw Kayton threatened with instant death, she gave a shriek and fainted, falling heavily on the sofa. Seeing her fall, Kayton rushed quickly to the window and threw up the sash to let in some air. Turning to Mrs. Martin, he pointed to the prostrate girl. "Your daughter—she's fainted!" The woman stared at him in astonishment. "What—" she stammered. "You know—you know—she's my daughter!" Kneeling at the couch, Kayton took Mary's hands in his and patted them; then, taking a brandy-flask from his pocket, he put a few drops on her mouth. Contemptuously he cried: "Do you think I'd have sent her here if I hadn't known you were her mother? I was a fool ever to have let her come. I wouldn't have her hurt or even frightened for all the damned counterfeiters in the world! She's the gentlest thing I ever met. Good God, haven't you any feeling for her at all? I might have known I couldn't trust her to a woman who left her when she was a baby for a crook like Kreisler!" Mrs. Martin staggered forward and gave a little exclamation of triumph. Turning to Kreisler, she cried: "Friederick, we've got him!" 218 THE ARGYLE CASE The counterfeiter stared, not understanding. "What do you mean?" She pointed to the detective, still on his knees at the side of the prostrate girl. "He's in love with her!" Kayton rose to his feet. "And if I am—?" Advancing toward him, she said, defiantly: "Whatever you do to me, you do to her! She's my daughter, and I'll claim her." He shrugged his shoulders as he exclaimed: "You're a rotten pair!" She returned to the attack. "I've kept out of her life until now, but from now on she'll get what I get!" Incensed beyond his customary self-control, Kay- ton shook his fist in the woman's face. Furiously he cried: "You can't drag her down so low that I won't drag her up again. She's accused of this murder, and the only way I can clear her is by showing you up." Infuriated, Kreisler once more drew his revolver and covered the detective. "Damn you!" he exclaimed, his finger on the trigger. Kayton did not flinch. Advancing boldly, al- though each instant might lay him a corpse on the floor, he said, defiantly: "Go on—shoot, and your wife goes to the chair for it!" Overawed, realizing that it was no use adding the crime of murder to the other charges against him, Kreisler lowered his pistol, and Kayton went on: "My boys will kill you and your gang here 219 THE ARGYLE CASE like rats in a trap! This house is surrounded! There's a detectaphone at that window! My men hear every word we say! I've only to whisper an order to have it obeyed. The moment you threatened to kill me they started to raid the house." As he spoke the electric buzzer sounded violently. Kayton gave a cry of triumph. "There they are! There! There!" Outside there was the sound of crashing glass and wood, followed by loud voices. The raiding party had effected an entrance and were already on the way up-stairs to the rescue. Quickly, Kreisler rushed to the door and looked out. What he saw convinced him that the game was up. Returning quickly into the room, he put his revolver to his head. Mrs. Martin with a terrible cry rushed forward to stop him, but too late. "It has come!" he cried, in despair. He pulled the trigger. There was a loud report, the sound of a body falling heavily; and when the smoke cleared away the leader of the counterfeiters was seen lying on the floor, blood trickling from a small wound in the side of his head. With a despair- ing cry, her arms outstretched, Mrs. Martin threw herself over the dead body. "Friederick! Friederick!" Kayton, at the couch, held Mary in his arms, reviving her with brandy. The electric buzzer crackled and spit furiously. The voices outside came nearer. AH at once, the detectives, headed by Joe, burst in. While the others halted to stoop over the dead counterfeiter, the assistant rushed over to his chief. "Did we get here in time, sir?" 220 THE ARGYLE CASE Kayton smiled grimly as he pointed to Kreisler. "He has saved the government the expense of a trial. Now all we've got to do is to find the man who killed Argyle. I think he's not far off. Call a cab, and we'll take Miss Masuret home." THE ARGYLE CASE man, sorry now that he had not been there to see the fun. "Yes; one." "Oh, that's too bad!" "But the coroner got him," said Nash, grimly. "Oh, that's great!" At that moment quick steps were heard in the outer office. The next instant the door was pushed open and Kayton appeared. The men greeted the chief with a cheer. Leishman went up and shook hands. "Thanks, boys!" smiled Kayton. "Sam, you and Nash had better get your breakfast." "How about you, gov'nor?" demanded Cort- wright. "I'll wait," smiled Kayton. Nash, drowsy with sleep, made his way toward the door. With a chuckle he said: "I'd like to have mine served in bed." The chief grinned. "Nash, you're not happy unless you have two nights in bed every week." When the two men had gone, Kayton turned to his manager. "Has the stenographer got the rest of this detecta- phone report out yet?" "I'll see, sir." As Leishman went out to inquire, he bumped into Joe, who entered jauntily, eating an apple. Kayton looked up and gave his assistant an amiable nod. He could not forget that if the raid had been success- ful he owed much to the loyalty and intelligence of his lieutenant. 225 THE ARGYLE CASE "Why, I had a witness that I wanted under cover, so I put her in a lodging - house, and it turned out to be the place where the counterfeiters were." The big fellow shrugged his shoulders incredu- lously. "Oh, pickles, pickles, Kay ton! I believe in your luck, but I don't believe even you could draw a straight flush to one card." The chief smiled. "Well, I may have stacked a little for it." "I'll bet you did." "Have you brought Mrs. Martin?" Colt nodded. "What's left of her. Say, there's the sort of thing that stumps me—a swindling old crook like Kreisler can mesmerize a woman like that! Why, she's a queen! She's acting now as if she hadn't a thing left in her but her breath because that old con has put himself out of trouble. I never have any luck like that. I've never been able to get a woman to live with me, let alone die with me. Say, you old bloodhound, where are the plates?" Kayton looked up quickly. "Whose—Kreisler's?" "Yes." "Don't think he used any. He had a new method." "Think so?" "That's my theory." "What was it?" "Don't know—yet." Colt shook his head. Somewhat discouraged, he said: 230 THE ARGYLE CASE "If that's the case, the government's still the goat. That whole crowd may know the process." "No—my idea is it was between Kreisler and his wife." "Well, son, you'll never get her combination. She's got a mouth that's burglar-proof." "Think so, Colt?" "Have you found out how old Argyle was such a damned fool as to mix up with these people?" "That stumped me for a long time, but I think I've got the explanation." "What is it?" "Well, I've always found that whenever you run into an abnormal mystery there's always an abnormal cause for it. In this case it was probably—insanity." "Do you think Argyle was bug?" "That's the line I'm working on. He doesn't seem to have shown any signs of it except in his quarrels with his son, and he was queer about his will." Turning away and taking up the telephone, Kayton spoke into the instrument: "Leishman, send in Mrs. Martin." Colt got up and moved to one side, pulling him- self together and standing with a smile waiting for the counterfeiter's wife to come in. Kayton looked at him in an amused kind of way. Waving him away, he said: "Good-by, Colt; good-by!" The inspector looked at him in surprise. "Good-by?" he echoed, in dismay. "Fade away, fade away!" said Kayton, waving him to be gone. 231 THE ARGYLE CASE Reluctantly, Colt went toward the door. Turn- ing round, he grumbled: "I'd like to bet you she won't squeal." "All right; go home and break open the baby's bank and bet." "Nix on that baby's bank!" laughed the officer. THE ARGYLE CASE Leaning forward over his desk, she cried, in a hysterical manner: "Her life's ruined if you drag me into this case! You can't—you can't do it without uncovering everything—everything! You won't do it! If you love her you can't do it! Would you marry the daughter of a woman disgraced?" For a moment Kayton hesitated, but only for a moment. Raising his head, he replied, emphatically: "I'd marry your daughter out of hell if she'd come to me!" Almost hysterical, Mrs. Martin sobbed: "And if she's anything like her mother she'd go to hell for you—if she loved you!" "And yet you refuse to do anything for her?" "I don't want her to know me; I don't want to know her. I'm dead as far as she is concerned." "If you go on the stand as State's witness, your past can be absolutely protected. Your daughter need never know." "You don't need me to clear her! You know she didn't do it. You know it was some one else. Leave me alone! Leave me alone! Find him yourself!" "Who? Hurley?" asked the detective, quietly. He watched her narrowly to judge of the effect of the name, but she remained impassive. Shaking her head, she said: "I didn't say it. I didn't say it. I haven't told you a thing." At that moment Joe entered from the outer office. Kayton looked up quickly: "Is she here?" "Yes, gov'nor." 237 THE ARGYLE CASE "It's a little better than a clue. I think we've got the man who killed Argyle." Involuntarily the lawyer fell back a few steps. All the color receded from his usually ruddy face, leaving him ghastly pale. "Well—well—" he stammered. Coolly Kayton extended to him the box of cigars. "Have a cigar?" he said, amiably. With trembling fingers the lawyer took one. "Thanks!" he mumbled. Kayton waved him to a seat. "Sit down," he said. But his visitor was too much perturbed to heed the invitation. Nervously he said: "Who is it? Who is it?" Again the detective waved him to a seat. Imitat- ing the lawyer's mannerism of speech, he said: "I'll tell you about that. Sit down." Paler and more uneasy every minute, the attorney took a chair. There was a slight pause, and then Kayton, in the most matter-of-fact way, went on: "Mr. Hurley, when did it first occur to you that Mr. Argyle's mind was affected?" For a moment the lawyer made no reply, but stared at his interlocutor, the pallor of his face in- creasing every moment. With a painfully forced smile he faltered: "I don't get you." "You will," said the detective, calmly. "You don't think that you could interest a man in his position—a millionaire—in a scheme for counter- feiting if he were in his right mind?" The lawyer started violently. 243 THE ARGYLE CASE "Before God, Kayton, I tell you it was an acci- dent! He'd gone into this counterfeiting. Then suddenly he shifted and threatened to show me up. I took her there to try and use her influence to fix it. As soon as he saw her he pulled a gun and tried to shoot her. I knocked it out of his hands. He sprang on me and tried to strangle me. I didn't want to hurt him; I just beat him off", trying to de- fend myself, and the first thing we knew he was dead on our hands." The detective shrugged his shoulders. Coldly he said: "I don't want to hear your troubles. Tell them to the district attorney. Boys, take this man j . Nash and Cortwright seized hold of the lawyer and dragged him toward the door leading to the outer office. Resisting with all his strength, the lawyer cried: "Wait a minute, boys! Wait a minute!" Joe gave him a poke in the ribs. Scornfully he exclaimed: "Come on, you big stiff". Take your medicine." Still struggling, raving, and cursing, Mr. Hurley was gradually forced to the door. As they dragged him along he shrieked: "Take your hands off me, damn you! You can't do it! Where are your papers? I want a lawyer! Kayton, give me a chance. I can square it with you. How much do you want?" "Shut up!" said the detective, sharply. The unhappy man cast an appealing glance round. Wildly he cried: 247 This book should be returned to the Library on or before the last date stamped below. A fine of five cents a day is incurred by retaining it beyond the specified time. Please return promptly. Hj Ir/.'J