NEDL TRANSFER
HN ILLS A



KD 11500














THE GRAY MASK
BY
WADSWORTH CAMP
AUTHOR OF
"THE ABANDONED ROOM”.
"THE HOUSE OF FEAR," ETC. w
for ca
.
FRONTISPIECE BY
WALTER DE MARIS
GARDEN CITY NEW YORK
DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY
1920


KD 11500
PREV470
COLLEGE
!!OBKY
COPYRIGHT, 1920, BY
DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED, INCLUDING THAT OF
TRANSLATION INTO FOREIGN LANGUAGES,
INCLUDING THE SCANDINAVIAN
Copyright, 1915, 1916, 1917, 1918, by P. F. Collier & Sons, Loc.,
in the United States, Great Britain and Canada


CONTENTS
PAGL
CHAPTER
I. GARTH IS SHOWN A GRAY MASK. ile
3
II. IT Opens Nora's EYES . . . . . .
III. IN THE STEEL Room . . . . . .
IV. Garth Buys A BOUTONNIÈRE : ..
V. WHAT HAPPENED AT ELMFORD .
VI. A CRYING THROUGH THE SILENCE . .
VII. Nora FEARS FOR GARTH . . . . .
VIII. THROUGH THE DARK . . . . . . 103
IX. THE PHANTOM ARMY . . . . . . 118
X. THE COINS AND THE CHINAMAN . . . 140
XI. NORA DISAPPEARS IN AN EMPTY HOUSE . 151
XII. THE HIDDEN DOOR . . . . . . . 163
XIII. Alsop's INCREDIBLE VISITOR . . . . 183
XIV. THE LEVANTINE WHO GUARDED A CUR-
TAIN . . . . . . . . • '• • 195
XV. THE VEILED WOMAN . . . . . . 209


CONTENTS
PAGE
CHAPTER
XVI. A NOTE FROM THE DEAD. . . . . . 224
XVII. THE KNIFE BY THE LIFELESS HAND . . 239
XVIII. THE STAINED ROBE . . . . . . 250
XIX. PAYMENT Is DEMANDED FOR THE GRAY
MASK . . . . . . . . . 264
XX, The BLACK CAP . . . . . . . 277
XXI. THE ANTICS OF A TRAIN . . . . .


THE GRAY MASK





THE GRAY MASK
CHAPTER I
GARTH IS SHOWN •A GRAY MASK
YARTH, in response to the unforeseen sum-
mons, hurried along the hallway and opened
the inspector's door. As he faced the rugged
figure behind the desk, and gazed into those eyes
whose somnolence concealed a perpetual vigil, his
heart quickened.
He had been assigned to the detective bureau less
than six months. That brief period, however, had
revealed a thousand eccentricities of his chief. The
pudgy hand beating a tattoo on the table desk, the
lips working at each other thirstily, the doubt that
slipped from behind the veil of the sleepy eyes, were
all like largely printed letters to Garth — letters
that spelled delicate work for him, possibly an ex-
ceptional danger.
“Where were you going, Garth?”
“Home. That is
Garth hesitated and cleared his throat.
“First - I thought I might drop in on Nora for
a minute."
With a quick gesture the inspector brushed the


THE GRAY MASK
mention of his daughter aside. Abruptly he verified
Garth's hazard.
“How much do you love your life?".
The inspector's voice possessed the growling qual-
ity of an animal. A warning rather than an aggres-
sive roar, it issued from a throat remotely surviving
behind great masses of flesh. Garth had rarely
heard it raised, nor, for that matter, had it ever de-
ceived him as to the other's amiability and gentleness
of soul. It s present tone of apologetic regret star-
tled him.
“On the whole I value my life rather highly just
now," he answered, trying to smile.
“Then turn this down and nothing said," the
inspector went on. “ It's yolunteer's work. No
gilt-edged prophecies. It's touch and go whether
whoever tackles it eats bacon and eggs to-morrow
morning."
“What's the job?" Garth asked.
The inspector glanced up.
“You've heard of that fellow without a face?"
Garth stared until he thought he understood.
“One of those Bellevue cases ? Awful burns ?”
The heavy head shook impatiently.
“No. This fellow Simmons in Chicago — sev-
eral years ago now - experimenting with some new
explosive in a laboratory. He got his arm up in
time to save his eyes.".
" Seems to me I remember," Garth began.
“Worn a gray mask ever since," the inspector
said.


GARTH IS SHOWN A GRAY MASK 5
He drew a telegram from a pile of papers at his
elbow, spread it on the writing-pad, and tapped it
with his thick forefinger. Garth wondered what
was coming. A feeling of uneasiness compelled
him to lower his eyes before the other's steady gaze.
There was something uncanny about this thought of
a mask, worn always to hide a horror.
The inspector's tapping quickened to an expres-
sion of anger. His voice exposed a cherished re-
sentment.
“No doubt about your having heard of our friend
Hennion?”
Garth started forward, resting his closed fists on
the desk top. His face was excited, unbelieving.
"Mean to say there's a chance —”
The inspector ceased his tapping. He looked up
slyly.
“A real one at last. You know what that means.
It's the job. Take it or leave it. I won't ask you
to go where I mightn't have cared to go myself at
your age."
Garth thought rapidly. His chief had been
right. The man who tried to trip Hennion needn't
worry about to-morrow's breakfast until his eyes
greeted the sun in the east.
He, with the rest of the bureau, could point to
half a dozen men as vassals of this almost mythical
figure. He, like the rest, had frequently diagnosed
obscure crimes as the workmanship of the Hennion
group. But he knew also that nothing had ever
been proved against this organization of criminals,


THE GRAY MASK
which was unique, because, in addition to prosaic
brutality, it appeared to be informed by brains of
a brilliant and inscrutable character.
“How much of a chance?" Garth asked.
All the drowsiness left the inspector's eyes.
“Maybe to sit in with them to-night. I've never
had a ghost of a show with a stool before, and this
is the night of all nights. One of these crooks has
been boasting. He said — and I have it straight
- To-night we play our ace. Get that, Garth!
What must an ace mean to that lot, eh? And the
president's here, but he'll be well looked after.
Still there are lots of big men in this town whose
sudden death would make a noise more like a home-
run than a funeral. Or, if it's burglary, play it
to scale. These fellows would unlock the gates of
Hades while Satan slept in the vestibule. I've been
saying to myself all day I've got to find out what
that ace is and stack the cards, and at the same time
I've been asking myself what the devil I was going
to do about it. But the luck's changed.”
Garth breathed hard.
“How do you expect to throw sand in the eyes
of that outfit?”
“Give me," the inspector answered slowly, his
rumble approximating a whisper, “someone with
no nerves to speak of and a build like this faceless.
man Simmons.”
He looked up. His eyes were very sleepy again.
“You have that build, Garth. All you need is
a plain, dark brown suit."


GARTH IS SHOWN A GRAY MASK 7.
He raised the telegram.
“This is Simmons' description as he left Chicago
last evening. He expects to arrive on the Western
express to night. He's looking for someone to meet
him and take him to the headquarters of the Hen-
nion gang."
Garth's face lightened.
“Has he a record?”
“A suspect, chiefly because he's tied up with
that anarchist crowd out there -- an analyst. of ex-
plosives, a chemist, cursed by this hideous accident
- dangerous as giant powder itself! That's why
his mail's been watched, how they got onto this
move. But they've no details for us. Maybe Sim-
mons himself doesn't know what he's up against.”
With a secretive air he opened a drawer and lifted
out a tightly-woven gray cloth. It was pierced by
two holes above and a long, narrow opening be-'
low. From its edges four elastic straps dangled.
“I had it made," he said, holding it out tenta-
tively, “so that, perhaps, you might find out instead
of Simmons."
Garth took the cloth and fitted it over his face.
It left visible a small scar on his neck. The in-
spector pointed at this with a pleased, wondering
smile.
“That scar peeping will fetch them. Put on a
brown suit and you'll pass."
“Where," Garth asked, “ does Simmons change
cars?"
"I'll have the express stopped at the end of


GARTH IS SHOWN A GRAY MASK 9
don't want another Kridel case on my con-
science."
The name dampened Garth's enthusiasm. He
had never known Joe Kridel who, a year ago, had
been the ascending star of the bureau. But the
manner of the young man's death was depressingly
familiar to him — found stabbed through the heart
in a private house whose dwellers had heard no
alarm. The key to that puzzle had never been
discovered. Even the inspector had harbored the
nature of Kridel's. assignment that night of his
murder.
“I hate," the inspector continued, that note of
regret in his voice again, “to give a man I like
such an ugly risk.”
This reached Garth as definite encouragement to
words which he had restrained for some time with
difficulty. To loose them, now, however, would be,
in a way, unfair to his chief; would, in every sense,
form no fitting prelude to his formidable and dan-
gerous task. He contented himself, therefore, with
an unsatisfactory compromise.
"If I've time I may drop in for a chat with Nora
after all.”
“But you won't alarm her with this ?”.
“ Certainly not.”
The inspector was very friendly.
“You know I wouldn't be surprised if Nora had
taken kind of a fancy for you herself.”
Garth's face reddened. He turned away.
The inspector sighed.


10
THE GRAY MASK
“Oh, well. There's plenty of time to think of
that when you bring yourself back — alive."
Before making his arrangements Garth called at
the inspector's flat. This was, in fact, a prepar-
ation. Without seeing Nora he felt he would not
be armed to enter these unfair lists with death.
He found her by the window in the sitting room.
She looked, he thought, more Latin than usual, al-
though the black clothes she habitually wore ac-
centuated her dark hair and flashing eyes, the olive
complexion and regular features she had inherited
from her Italian mother.
She smiled up at Garth, and, as always in face
of that smile, he recalled the unexplored neutral
ground where their minds had never really met.
This impression had unquestionably retarded the
development of their relations. It had until now
held their emotions in the leash of friendship.
Garth had no idea of snapping that cord at his en-
trance, but Nora's proximity and the suddenness of
an unexpected gesture distilled logic and fairness for
the moment's irresistible intoxication.
Their hands, reaching for the book she had
dropped, met. The quick contact was galvanic to
Garth. An unconquerable impulse possessed him.
If he was to risk death that night it was folly to
shirk life to-day. So his hand closed over hers
while he sought for words.
After a moment he became aware of the im-
passivity of her fingers within his violent grasp.


GARTH IS SHOWN A GRAY MASK II
His voi ched bin tcitem
I
He saw grave trouble and an unanswerable doubt
extinguish the excitement in her eyes. A premoni-
tion reached him. He fought against it desperately.
His voice swayed a little.
“Don't look at me like that, Nora. You're
going to marry me."
She shook her head. All at once there were
tears in her eyes. Her hand lightly brushed her
black skirt.
“Jim, you've often asked me why I wear these
dark clothes. Now you make me tell you. I can
trust you? Because no one knows unless my father
guesses."
He nodded. She spoke with an effort.
“For the man I was going to marry, Jim. You
see he — he died.”
Garth arose and turned to the window. He
leaned there, staring at the busy street, listening to
its jarring discords. Among the children at play
one boy, unkempt and filthy, stood braced against
a railing, crying at the top of his lungs. In his
abandonment to disappointment Garth accepted the
picture as typical of his life — a crying out for the
unattainable, a surrender to despair. The night's
work lost its terror. Its issue became a matter of
callous indifference.
Then her hand. was on his arm, drawing him
around so that he saw her face, which had lost its
colour, and the growing doubt in her eyes.
“Try to understand, Jim. I think I scarcely do
myself. I only know it hurts to see you unhappy.


GARTH IS SHOWN A GRAY MASK 13
“Up the state. It's just as well now. I've got
to go. I ought to be getting ready."
She arose. She spoke wistfully.
“Then good-by, Jim. And you'll try to under-
stand? Maybe you'll come to see me just the same
when you get back ?".
He swallowed hard, forcing back his craving for
abandonment, for revelation.
“When I get back," he said.


CHAPTER II
IT OPENS NORA'S EYES
VARTH waited at the end of the bridge above
· Garrison. At eight o'clock it was dark, but
the river, glass-like between the rugged
hills, retained a pallid light. At a short distance
two men smoked and chatted. They had with-
drawn themselves in response to Garth's moodiness.
He fancied they discussed him as one already dead.
A whistle shrieked. The hills rumbled. Fling-
ing their cigars in the water, the men rejoined
Garth. He slipped the mask from his pocket, and
secreted his features behind its gray protection.
The train dashed across the bridge, sparks grind.
ing from its wheels. When it stopped, panting
sullenly, the two men sprang aboard.
Garth flattened himself against the side of the car
and watched them reappear, leading a third who
wore a grey mask above a plain brown suit. He
heard a croaking, unnatural voice issue from be-
hind the mask.
“ Didn't look for you so soon, friends."
Excitement drove the melancholy from Garth's
brain. The undertaking had begun reassuringly.
Simmons had no suspicion that he was in the hands
of the police. Garth noticed also as he entered the
14


IT OPENS NORA'S EYES
15
car that the passengers were not aware of the sub-
stitution. He resented the repugnance in the
glances they turned on the mask. Simmons' atti-
tude toward life became comprehensible. But, as
the journey extended itself interminably, Garth grew
restless. He realized he was in the position of a
man entering a cavern without a light. He must
feel his way step by step. He must walk blindly
toward innumerable and fatal pitfalls.
At last the train paused for the change from lo-
comotive to electric motor. Although he knew that
normally no passengers would board it at this place,
he gazed anxiously from the window. A man stood
close to the track with the evident intention of en-
tering the train. Garth saw him elude a brakeman,
saw him grasp the railing and swing himself out of
sight. A moment later the man walked into the
car, stopped dead, and turned sharp, inquisitive eyes
on the gray mask.
About the figure was a somber air, accentuated
by a black felt hat, drawn low over the eyes. It
let Garth see, however, a sharp and colorless face
which conveyed an impression of uncommon force-
fulness.
After a moment the slender man leaned over
and spoke with a leer.
“ You must be a star gambler, judging from your
face."
He continued to stare as though expectant of an
answer. Perhaps some countersign was demanded.
If that was so the whole enterprise swayed in the


IT OPENS NORA'S EYES
17
The slender man grasped Garth's arm, and, as
the train stopped, leapt with him to the right of
way and hurried him into the shadows at the foot
of the embankment. Any men the inspector might
have had on the train had been outwitted.
He saw ahead the red and green lights of an
open draw-bridge. He understood now, and mar-
velled at the simplicity of the trick. Certainly it
would not have occurred to the inspector to post his
men at the Harlem River where express trains were
seldom detained at night. Yet it had been only
necessary to send some small boat to loiter in the
draw at the proper moment to assure the security
of the conspirators.
Immediately Garth lost all sense of direction.
The other led a stealthy, circular course through a
lumber yard, across a fence, around darkened build-
ings, and finally onto a small wharf. A craft was
moored there a barge, Garth thought at first. It
lay in darkness except for its navigating lights, and,
as Garth looked, even these were extinguished.
The slender man glided across the wharf, and,
Garth at his heels, stepped to the deck. There he
reached over the railing, dropping something from
his hand. Garth heard three splashes at regular
intervals. A blade of light flashed sharply athwart
the darkness and became an open doorway, fram-
ing a troubled face.
Garth, shoved from behind, stumbled over the
sill into the presence of five men who circled about
him, like cats, wary and suspicious. He would


18
THE GRAY MASK
know now. One word from his conductor would
deliver him to the inevitable judgment of that circle.
But the slender man slipped in after him, closing
the door.
“The cops are drunk with sleep," he said.
Garth breathed again. But into that moment's
respite crept the thought of Nora, suddenly become
unobtainable. Resolutely he fought his depression
back. At a gesture from the slender man he sat on
a bench against the wall.
He saw now that the apparent barge was a rough
houseboat, unpainted, unfinished, with windows
closed and heavily barred. The only furniture was
this bench and another opposite with a deal table
between. Fumes of gasoline and cylinder oil came
through an open doorway forward and mixed repel-
lently with an atmosphere already poisoned by to-
bacco. For all five smoked, not with enjoyment,
Garth noticed — rather in an abandonment to
nerves. It impressed him that these men, who un-
questionably were the cleverest and most indomitable
of the Hennion group, should expose this restless-
ness, this apparent fear, on the threshold of the
night's work. His conductor, indeed, was the only
one immune to the contagion of suspense.
Garth glanced at these others with a sharp per-
sonal curiosity. They varied amazingly from his
anticipation. One, a sallow youth with untidy yel-
low hair and large-rimmed eye-glasses, might have
been a student of the most devoted species. An-
other cunningly resembled a well-to-do business man,


IT OPENS NORA'S EYES
19
while a third had the clothing and the air of a tramp.
The fourth, with his dapper tailoring and ferret-
like face, was more familiar to the expert in crime.
These, however, Garth passed over quickly for
the fifth, perhaps because, with the detective's ex-
tra sense, he foresaw there a special and unintelli-
gible menace.
This man brought his huge, handsome figure for-
ward and leaned heavily on the table. His close-
cropped hair, dampened by the heat, curled about
a bronzed forehead from beneath which inquisitor.
ial and threatening eyes challenged.
The slender man, who clearly was the leader,
crossed the room.
“Seeing ghosts, George?” he asked. “Or
maybe you're anxious for a glimpse of what Sim-
mons hasn't got any more. Why not show him the
big event, Simmons ?”.
His laugh, scarcely audible, was like the wrath
of a gigantic sneer.
Garth's hand crept to his pocket and closed over
his revolver. George drew back.
“Look yourself, Slim, and it ought to be done."
The other swung on him angrily.
“Do you think I'm bringing him here without
checking him up. He doesn't have to take his mask
off to show you a scar. The lot of you look like
sudden wealth for a nerve specialist. Sit down.
We'll get to business."
He swung on Simmons.
“I know how you feel about that. Now, listen.


20
THE GRAY MASK
All you know is that we wanted a scientific fellow
who doesn't use his profession exclusively for the
benefit of humanity. Also one without any nerves.
I've always heard that of you."
Garth nodded, smiling a little to himself. Lack
of nerves had been the inspector's chief requisite.
Now the criminals demanded the same quality. He
stood, as it were, between two deadly fires. He
wondered if murder was on the boards. He re-
called the slip of white paper in his pocket, ques-
tioning if he would be able to finger it, to scratch
upon it those vital invisible directions before these
sharp and overcurious eyes.
The slender man hurried on, glancing at his
watch.
“We're waiting for one more. At first all you
have to do is to keep close to George. We're going
to crack a safe.”
His voice colored apologetically
“No jewelry or bags of gold. George falls for
that cheap stuff now and then, but you needn't be
ashamed of this job, Simmons. By the way, I don't
have to ask you if you duck your lid every time the
band blats. Oh, say, can you see!'"
Garth shook his head.
“Say, Simmons,” George broke in, "you talk
yourself to death. That explosion must have hurt
your voice something fierce."
Again Garth tried to approximate the croaking
tone he had heard at the bridge.
“Talk's as cheap and easy as cracking safes.”


IT OPENS NORA'S EYES 21
He risked it for its effect on the others. More-
over it was an antidote for his nervous strain to give
that much rein to the antagonism he already exper-
ienced for the huge, dark fellow.
Secretive laughter greeted his daring. A ges-
ture from the leader halted George's movement, al-
most instinctive, to resent the affront physically.
Then three faint and regular splashes came from
the water.
They all held their poses of the moment statu-
esquely until, at a nod from the leader, the intellect-
ual-looking youth arose and moved towards the door.
During that moment of waiting Garth tried to
fashion what he knew into a recognizable pattern,
but the pieces were incomplete. He could only won-
der why they had sent to Chicago for an anarchistic
chemist to connive with this expert at a task as a
simple as cracking a safe.
The youth turned the lock and opened the door
a little. It was pushed boisterously against him,
and, beyond his amazed back, Garth had a glimpse
of a gaudily colored skirt. The others had risen.
The leader, grasping the youth's elbow, shoved him
to one side, and Garth, his view unobstructed now,
gazed incredulously at Nora's blazing, painted face.
His first impulse was to cry out and warn the girl
back from this ambush into which she had unac-
countably strayed. He gripped the edge of the
table. He half arose. For a moment the room
went black. All at once he realized that her pres-
ence at this unique rendezvous must be without the


22
THE GRAY MASK
slightest ambiguity. Perhaps it was an ill-advised
attempt to rescue him from the net. He waited
tensely for some word. His heart sank. She
couldn't recognize him behind the mask.
He wouldn't lie to himself any longer. Nora,
whom he had always seen in black, wore a flashy
dress. She had given the conspirators their own
signal. She received from them a welcome of
anxiety.
The room darkened again. He sat in a frozen
silence. He saw and heard as from a vast distance.
“Whole force at your heels, Nora ? " the leader
asked gently.
Closing the door, she faced them breathlessly.
Her eyes flashed, but fear lurked there, too.
"No," she said, “but it might be tramping on
the dock without your guessing it. Listen, Slim."
She raised her clenched fists.
“There's a bull here. There's a cop with his
hand at your throat."
“Nora! You're having a nightmare.”
“Hold on," George said. “Nora ought to
know."
• “Yes,” she gasped, " and it's straight.”
Slim relaxed.
“From your father?"
She nodded.
“How in "
“I don't know," she said, “but he was sure he'd
have a stool with you to-night. He's tried so long
I know he wasn't bragging. Slim! We can't trip


IT OPENS NORA'S EYES
23
up now. I've worked too hard. You've told me
what a mess you made last time, when that cop,
Kridel, was croaked. Where will we be if anything
like that's pulled again?"
“Easy, Nora," Slim said. “Maybe we wouldn't
be any worse off than we were then. Has anybody
burned in the chair for that? Does anybody know
who croaked Kridel? Well — the man who did it.
Don't lose your nerve. The cops would have a fine
time getting a witness in a murder case out of this
crowd. And, if what you say is so, maybe the same
thing will happen to-night, only in a more con-
venient spot.”
“What are you going to do, Slim?" she asked.
“ Tie him up, but no more murder. I quit at that."
“Leave it to me,” he muttered. “Show me the
bull.”
Garth received the words as a condemned man
probably hears the voice of a judge who wears the
black cap.
The girl glanced rapidly around. Then, advanc-
ing steadily to the table, she raised her hand and
pointed at Garth.
He stared fascinated at the finger which, a few
hours ago, he had held violently in the rush of his
passion. He was aware of the flashing eyes which
that afternoon had been wet with tears. But his
brain was dull. He waited patiently for the ex-
posure which now appeared unavoidable because of
the woman he loved.
She spoke evenly.


24
THE GRAY MASK
“Who could it be but this man that hides his
face? There's no doubt about the rest of you.
You only have to see, Slim, whether this fellow,
Simmons, has got a face."
“He had the word,” the leader answered, " and
look at that scar. But you're right, Nora. If
there's a bull here he's behind that mask.” .
“Then make him take it off," she said.
Garth raised his hands. His croaking voice was
torn with dismay.
"No. I warn you. Spare me and yourselves
that. It's not pretty, what you'd see."
“Take it off," the girl repeated.
“I hide it," Garth cried. “For years - Listen,
you. If you don't let me keep a little pride you can
do your dirty work without me."
The leader put his hand on Garth's shoulder.
“Now, now," he said soothingly. “Depend on
it, Simmons, if you're all right we don't want to
hurt your feelings."
“ All right!” Nora mocked. “And I tell you
there's a cop here. And you know as well as I he's
the only one. You're crazy, Slim.”
"Good thing one of us is then," the leader
sneered, "If this isn't Simmons we're out of the
running for to-night anyway. If it is, what do we
gain by making a show of him? That's what I was
going to propose. Only one of us need look."
:“That'll do," Nora agreed. Well! Who?"
“ George here was anxious."


IT OPENS NORA'S EYES 25
“Look yourself,” George answered. “I'm no
dime museum fiend.”
Suddenly Garth arose.
“Maybe the lady " he croaked. “She's so
set on it. A pleasant sight for ladies."
Nora Aushed angrily.
“I'll call that bluff.''
She waved the others back towards the end of the
room.
“And be quick about it,” she said to Garth. .
Garth caught the expressions of the others. He
noticed their ready hands. While his fingers rose to
the fastenings of the gray mask he turned slowly
and faced Nora.
For a moment he hesitated. Even after all he
had seen he shrank from forcing on the girl the
responsibility of tossing him to those waiting hands.
He was tempted to spare her that, to confess him-
self to the others. But the stamping of her foot,
the tone of her voice, impatient, commanding, de-
cided him.
“Hurry, I say! There's no way out."
So, holding her with his eyes, he slipped the gray
mask aside.
He saw her stare while the angry color left her
cheeks. But at first her expression did not alter.
It seemed to him a long time before terror twisted
her face, before she screamed. He watched her
cower back, crossing her arms over her eyes; watched
her fall against the wall, where she bent, trembling.


26
THE GRAY MASK
Garth replaced the mask, shrugging his shoul-
ders, and turned to the others. The leader laughed
lightly, with satisfaction.
“Never dreamed it was as bad as that, Simmons.
You're right. Don't blame you, but you must see
we had to be sure."
Garth nodded. He sat down. Let the girl
speak. Until then he would play his part.
“Looks as if the stool lost a leg somewhere,"
he said.
He studied Nora. Her face hidden, she re-
mained shrinking against the wall. Still she did
not speak.
George stepped to her side and put his arm
around her.
“Forget it, little girl. Wish I'd looked for
you."
She shook his arm off and pushed him away.
“Forget it yourself, George," the leader warned.
“You ought to have learned that won't go with
Nora."
"She knows I'm no butterfly,” George answered
sullenly.
His touch had aroused her. She straightened and
turned wild eyes on the gray mask. Garth waited
then for her to betray him, but she only stammered
a little.
“He's right. A pleasant sight for ladies! Boat
- must have thrown them off the track."
She laughed hysterically. She sank on the end
of the bench.


IT OPENS NORA'S EYES 27
Garth was surprised, now that the strain was
broken, not to experience any exceptional relief. In
spite of the game's vital stakes it had interested
him chiefly because of the various effects it might
have had on Nora. Yet it had yielded him no key
to her presence here, to her disgraceful marketing
of her father's confidence, to her assumption at
home of black robes and grief, or, finally, to her
apparent decision to let the night's work continue
in spite of his presence. Probably she hoped he
could not get help until the job had been done. Or
- and the thought struck him with the shameful
tingling of a slap— perhaps she thought he would
let the others go rather than capture and convict
the woman he had craved in marriage.
He pressed his lips together. He beckoned to
Slim. He took the whip in his own hands.
“Is the safe here? Are we going to spend the
rest of the night on this boat? If the cops are
awake it isn't wise.”
“All right," the leader said. “George, you and
Nora and Simmons wait here. The rest of you
start out."
The studious-appearing youth, the tramp, the
dandy, and the elderly man filed through the door
and silently closed it. The leader spoke to Garth
quickly.
"George will unlock the safe without any trouble.
He's the best in the business. Your job's to open it
and handle what you find without blowing the lot
of us to everlasting dirt."


28
THE GRAY MASK
“Explosives ! " he said. “I see why you wanted
me."
“The pay's high,” Slim answered. “The fellows
that are after this stuff don't trust diplomatic talk.
Everybody wants it if only to be sure that nobody
else gets it, for they claim that the nation that has
it, could make a league of all the rest look like Tod
Sloan fighting Dempsey. The inventor thinks Uncle
Sam ought to have it, if anybody, but he's been
holding off. It's new, and he's either afraid of it
himself, or he thinks he can perfect it."
“He's afraid of it," Nora breathed. “He told
me it was a sin to invent it."
“ The point is, Simmons," the leader said, “can
you handle the stuff with a degree of safety after
you have read the formula ? A man of your ex-
perience "
“I am not afraid to tackle it if I can see the
formula,” Garth answered quietly.
“Say, Simmons,” George put in with a wry face,
“if there's anything phony about your education,
drop off here."
Garth fingered a frayed sheet of white paper..
“I am not afraid if I can see the formula," he
repeated.
The leader turned to Nora.
“You're sure there's some of the stuff in the safe
with the formula ? The foreigner wouldn't dicker
without a sample to analyze."


IT OPENS NORA'S EYES
29
“I saw the formula and the sacks put in the safe
to-night,” she answered.
George shook his head.
“Nora, you're a wonder.”
“No wonder,” she said contemptuously. “Noth-
ing but hard work. An imbecile could have made
friends with the housekeeper, but it took drudgery
to get at the old man. I won't waste that. If
there's any slip —".
The leader glanced at the gray mask.
“That's up to Simmons now," he said.


CHAPTER III
IN THE STEEL ROOM
M ARTH'S fingers played with the piece of
T white paper.
“You haven't told me where the house
is," he said.
The moment the leader had answered Garth was
standing on the bench. He waved his arm. Sud-
denly he blew out the lamp.
“On the dock!” he stammered to the darkness.
“A noise!"
As the others crept to the door he scratched rap-
idly and silently with a match on the piece of paper
the location of the house, the nature of the job, and
an appeal for help. When he was through he heard
the others coming back.
“If your nerves jump like that, Simmons, what
a chance we'll have!” George said. “Not a sign.
Light up."
Garth struck the match and relighted the lamp.
“I never take unnecessary risks," he said simply.
Nora, he knew, would guess that his excess of
caution was a police trick. His eyes sought her
anxiously as the lamp flamed, but she gave no sign..
After a moment she whispered:
30


IN THE STEEL ROOM
31
" Let's start. It - it frightens me here."
The leader opened the door.
“ It's time," he said. “They're asleep in the
house by now."
They followed him, threading obscure spaces and
alleyways to the unlighted end of a street which de-
ployed into a stone mason's yard, and always Garth
asked:
“Will she whisper my life away to the others ? "
A taxicab waited there. Garth manæuvred so
that he had a seat by the window. He let his hand,
which clenched the piece of paper, dangle through.
Such policemen as he saw were indifferent until
crossing One Hundred and Twenty-fifth Street he no-
ticed one who looked straight at the cab. He let
the paper flutter from his fingers, but he did not dare
glance back to see if the policeman had picked it up.
The cab halted in a dark side street off Lexing-
ton Avenue. A man stepped from the shadows and
waved his hand. They alighted and walked with
an unconcern that surprised Garth to the servants'
entrance of a large house. This Nora unlocked.
They entered and waited in the alley while one by
one the four from the boat slipped through after
them.
Garth understood what these numbers meant. In
order that Nora, George, and he might accomplish
their task undisturbed, these men would bear to
each inmate of the house chloroform, or, under
necessity, something more permanently silencing.
Walking heavy-hearted through the alley at


32
THE GRAY MASK
Nora's heels, one last saving possibility occurred to
Garth. Could this be another police trick? It
was likely that the inspector had denied him his full
confidence. Could Nora be on the same errand as
himself, working for her father?
When she had unlocked the house door he found
himself brushing against her in the hall. Im-
pulsively he reached down and clasped her hand,
But her hand was like ice. She snatched it away.
In her action and the sharp intake of her breath
he felt his doubts resolved.
Then he was flung into a stealthy, sure, and dread-
ful whirlpool of action. He heard feline move-
ments on the stairs, a muffled thud in the darkness
ahead, from the second floor a shrill cry, all at once
strangled and beaten back into the heavy silence. -
He waited, panting. Upstairs someone rapped
sharply three times. A pocket lamp flashed ahead,
throwing a white shaft against finely-grained ma-
hogany.
A hand in the shaft signalled him, and he crept
forward until he stumbled over a round, inert mass
which lay just outside the room where the white
light searched the mahogany.
The light, wavering around to greet him, dis-
closed the obstacle. It was a man, deftly bound,
and bandaged about the mouth, the ears, the eyes.
“Shut the door."
Garth closed the door on this disturbing vision.
The mahogany formed the doors of a large and
very wide cabinet. George knelt in front of this,


IN THE STEEL ROOM
33
inserting slender, gleaming tools in the lock with
the adroitness of a watchmaker. To one side Nora
crouched, playing the light on his illicit undertaking.
George opened the doors and nodded to Garth.
The light glowed now on the sleek, steel belly of
a safe; and, as Garth, a trifle confused, reached out
a steadying hand, he realized that the walls of this
room were of steel, too. The cold, uncompromis-
ing feel of the metal was another warning to him.
His only chance was that the safe might balk George
for some time.
The man's first words, indeed, encouraged this
hope.
“May take a little time," he muttered.
“Might's well be comfortable, Simmons. Nora,
toss us a couple of those sofa pillows."
Nora reached to the divan behind her and passed
the cushions to George. He arranged one to his
satisfaction before raising his hand to the combina-
tion.
“Plenty of time, isn't there?” Garth croaked
anxiously.
“Ought to be," George answered. “Every-
thing's covered now. Didn't expect to find the
watchman where we did though. If he hadn't been
half asleep — Nora, maybe you doped him at sup-
per.”
The girl gave no sign. She remained crouched
at the side. She was like an animal, ready to spring
at the first alarm.
Garth was aware of an unusual tension himself.


34
THE GRAY MASK
It was not quite the suspense he had forecasted.
Perhaps this sharing of criminal labor for the first
time accounted for its nature. He appreciated the
amount of courage demanded. He received, as it
were, George's disturbing point of view of the
moment.
Garth had caught a new stammering quality in
the man's voice. He wondered at the perspiration
which bathed his face in spite of the comfortable
temperature of the room. He studied the shoul-
ders, squared as for an attack, momentarily expected..
Only the fingers at their facile work displayed no
emotion.
Garth questioned if George always worked under
this strain. Did any of the responsibility rest with
this room? Since his first entrance over the pros-
trate form of the watchman, since his first touch
of those unyielding walls, he had himself exper-
ienced a distaste for the apartment. This may
have been accounted for in part by that single,
brilliant shaft of light, which, illuminating the nest
of this perilous booty, deepened the shadows else-
where.
Garth could make out little. His eyes failed to
explore the corners, succeeded only in reaching the
divan and one or two easy chairs — furniture alto-
gether incongruous in a chemist's laboratory
Although the water streamed from George's face,
he saw the man shiver. It started an expository
train of thought. The last time this job had been
attempted Kridel had been killed in this house.


IN THE STEEL ROOM 35
almost certainly in this room. He recalled the su-
perstitious fears of many criminals. Perhaps that
accounted in a degree for the other's bared nerves.
"May take time,” George jerked out again. "If
I could only use a drill and a touch of nitro." -
He whistled softly.
“None of that rough business here. Good
Lord, Simmons, don't let that stuff go off.”
Nora leaned forward.
“Scared, George?”
The question brought fire.
“Show me anybody else who'd do this stunt with
more nerve."
“Slim must think a lot of you to put you at it
twice."
“What do you mean by that?”
“ Didn't you fall down on it last time?"
“Ask Slim," he said shortly. “This is the time
I'm interested in, and if we pull it off —”.
He reached over, tapping the mahogany with
ritual precaution.
"If we pull it off, Nora, you're going to quit
fooling with me. I've dangled a long time, and
we'll have plenty of money then."
Physical greed for a moment drove the uneasiness
from his eyes.
“Maybe, when I get the door open, you'll give me
that kiss I've been waiting for."
Garth felt shame that he had the impulse to risk
his mission for this woman he should have loathed.
He wanted to take the burly, glistening throat be-


36
THE GRAY MASK
tween his hands. He controlled himself with an
effort. But he could not experience for the girl
that just loathing.
She had altered subtly. At George's question
her form had lost its alertness and had assumed
the unyielding lines of a somnambulist; and her voice
had the colorless tone of one who speaks out of a
dream.
“Maybe when you get it open, George. Time
enough to think of that then. I'm not so sure you'll
open it. I'm not so sure of your nerve."
“Wait and see," he said. “You're a pretty one
to talk about nerve. You look as though you'd seen
a ghost."
She sank back in a heap. She screened her face
with her hands. George stared.
“Now what"
“Don't say that, George," she whispered.
“Not here. Ever since I've been in this room -
it - it doesn't feel right.”
She trembled.
“Hurry! I'm afraid here."
“Hold the light up," he said roughly. “What's
the matter with you? This isn't a graveyard.”
He resumed his manipulation of the knob. Garth
noticed that from time to time he glanced quickly
over his shoulder at the somber corners of the room.
Nora had, to a certain extent, startled Garth.
Her barely audible words still breathed disquiet-
ingly in his ears. They had been like a bow drawn
across a string too tightly stretched.


IN THE STEEL ROOM
37
She kept her face hidden now while George
worked. The only sound was the muffled clicking
of the balls in the combination; the only light, the
shaft from the lamp which she held unsteadily. The
thought of the steel walls added to the oppression
of the air. Garth breathed with difficulty. He
fancied once that something moved behind the
divan. George caught his start and demanded an
explanation. He scolded querulously.
“Well," Garth croaked, “I agree with the lady.
I don't like the room.”
“I looked around,” George said.
Nora lowered her arms.
“George," she said, “sometimes you can't see
everything."
She straightened. That disquieting, colorless
whisper came again.
“I know what it is. That cop was killed here,
wasn't he?"
“What do I know about it?” he asked angrily.
She leaned closer and grasped his arm.
“Right here, George. And if he It must
have been just like this — this time of night when
he -- George! Can't we turn on the lights ?"
He swallowed hard.
“Why not send out a call for the patrol? What
do you mean, if he _".
She shivered.
“I don't like places where people have died hard.
That's what I felt when I came in here. But you —
you're not afraid?”


38
THE GRAY MASK
He turned momentarily from his work. He
tried with indifferent success to fill his voice with
challenge. Afterwards he looked up expectantly as
though he was far from certain the challenge might
not be accepted.
“Afraid! A man with a red heart afraid of
dead ones! They never come back.”
“Don't say that. I know. My mother told me
such things. She was Italian. She knew. She
saw. George, don't say that. It's like cursing the
dead. And he lay right there, didn't he, George,
between you and the safe? That's why Slim
stayed outside. Maybe Slim killed him. I want to
go, too. Let Simmons hold the lamp.”.
"No," George said. “That thing he wears
isn't human company. You stay."
Garth wondered that in that fantastic light the
girl's manner should set a cold anxiety rippling
along his own nerves. He looked with an unna-
tural curiosity at the place which she had indicated.
Evidently she had yielded to an excess of terror.
In spite of George's command she was trying to pass
the lamp to Garth. It slipped from her fingers,
and the white shaft circled swiftly downwards. She
caught the handle before it reached the floor, but
now the only light in the room was a narrow circle
which bored into the carpet and exposed a dark,
irregular stain.
Nora cried chokingly.
“Blood! George! That's his blood!”
Cursing, George reached forward, caught her


IN THE STEEL ROOM
39
arm, and swung the light away from this desolate
“No wonder!" she whispered. “No wonder
Slim didn't have the nerve to come back and do
those same things. He'd have seen the man he'd
killed between him and his work."
Garth could scarcely catch her voice.
“If I thought you had that much nerve, George,
I might — I believe I might -"
She broke off abruptly. George stared at her,
then turned back and fumbled for the knob.
“Try to keep the light steady, Nora."
There was a beseeching, child-like quality in his
tone. He worked with difficulty now. His hands
were no longer perfect mechanical tools. They
wavered about the knob. His lips twitched.
Perspiration thickened on his face. Garth saw
drops glitter and fall slowly to the stained carpet.
Garth caught himself paradoxically wishing
George to hurry. For a moment he was relieved
when a new sound came from the combination, and
George with a sigh turned the handle.
“ Ready to open," he said.
He swung on Nora.
“ Talk about Slim! Crying, Nora? Good
Lord "
“Don't, George," she said. “If I half close my
eyes I can see him through my tears, lying here in
the shadows. Can't you? ”.
He clasped his arms about her. He hid his eyes
in her hair.


THE GRAY MASK
“Hush," he said hoarsely. “And, while Sim-
mons does his work, give me that kiss.”
Garth's fingers reached out, then he thought of
the frayed piece of paper possibly in the inspector's
hands and already urging the night to a successful
climax. This anguish, too, he must suffer. So he
drew back profoundly shaken.
Nora, however, was protecting her lips.
“You promised —” George began.
" I said if you had that much nerve. But I know
you haven't. Even if you had croaked him you
wouldn't dare acknowledge it here. Why, George,
you're kneeling where he lay.”
He threw back his shoulders. He laughed
demonstratively.
“What difference does that make? I'm kneeling
to you. And let Slim rave. I'll give you your
price. You needn't be ashamed to kiss me, Nora.
It wasn't Slim. I did it. The cop jumped me
from behind that sofa, and I let him have the
knife.”
He raised his lips expectantly.
Garth didn't understand at first. He only real-
ized with a savage joy that their lips did not touch.
Yet he questioned why the big man, instead of an-
swering the temptation of that mouth, half-open and
inviting, drooped backwards until he lay stretched
on the floor.
George's cry in his ears aroused him, and he saw
in the reeling, drunken shaft of light that blood
flowed and joined the ancient stain in the carpet.


IN THE STEEL ROOM
41
He arose. He knew what that scream would un-
loose upon them.
Springing backward, he grasped the handle of
the safe and opened the doors.
“Nora," he whispered. “Come here."
She obeyed him with mechanical precision; but
when he took the lamp from her listless hand, turn-
ing it upward to examine her face, he read in her
eyes awakening realization and horror.
He snapped off the light. Still grasping her
hand, he seated himself on the floor with his back
to the open safe. He drew her down. For a mo-
ment he thought she would resist, then she yielded
and sank passively to the cushion at his side.
" Why? " she asked.
“They will be here,” he said. “There is no
way out except through that door which they will
use. It is safer to wait here. Why don't they
come?”
“They are careful,” she whispered back. “They
will come slowly. They will take no chances.”
He felt the quick shaking of her body.
“I know what I have done,” she said, “what
I have done to you."
He realized that his hand still grasped hers. He
released it gently.
“I understand a little," he answered, “but if
you cared enough to accomplish this madness for
him, you should have been even less kind to me than
you were this afternoon."
“Perhaps," she answered. “Oh, I don't know.


$2
THE GRAY MASK
I don't know. I was so young. I loved him so
much, and my father said his murderer would never
be punished — justice must fail. Maybe it was my
Italian blood, but I swore over his body the day
they buried him that, if there was no other way,
I would get justice for the poor boy. We were
practically certain it was this gang. I said nothing
to my father. Through a girl I had helped I met
Slim. It pleased his vanity to have a spy at head-
quarters. I made him trust me. But I couldn't
find out who - Yet sooner or later I knew the time
would come. That's why I worked so hard for
to-night, why I wouldn't let anything interfere, be-
cause I thought in this room - Well! You see
Listen!"
She breathed hard for a moment.
“Since I've known you I've doubted, but I
couldn't turn back. You despise me, Jim, but in
a way I have done good. I made them respect me.
I have restrained them. I think, because I have
been with them, I have saved lives. And always
I had planned at the end to punish them as they
deserved. But now - in a trap. We're like mice
in a trap, Jim. I've done that to you. They'll find
me out now, and what's behind the mask, too.
They'll kill us both. They'll have to. Listen!”
“We'll make a fight of it, Nora," he said grimly.
“No matter what I do, trust me."
“Hush!” she breathed. “I think the door is
open."


IN THE STEEL ROOM
.43
“ I'm going to flash the light,” he answered.
“No. I know they are here. I know they are
in the room. I hear -".
He snapped the button. The white shaft pierced
the darkness. Nora had been right. Slim and
three others with ready revolvers were half way
across the room. Garth put his finger to his lips.
"Shh," he said. “Wait! Don't come any
closer.”
“What's wrong, Simmons ? " Slim whippe out.
“ Who called? That's George. What -
“He got fresh with the girl," Garth answered.
Slim waited, taking in the details of the tableau,
weighing Garth's words and manner, studying
Nora's collapsed figure and its proximity to Garth's.
“You're bluffing, Simmons," he said at last.
" I'm after facts now. Toss up your hands."
He raised his revolver, aiming at Garth's body.
Nora gave a little cry. Garth laughed.
“You don't quite understand," he answered
slowly," and you're usually so observant, Slim.
Look around. The safe is open behind us. Your
bullets would clip through Nora and me into those
sacks of army destroyers. What then? So you
won't be surprised when I take my hands down.”
He lowered them. He took his own revolver
from his pocket.
“But,” he went on," there's nothing behind you
but a steel wall, and if one of you comes a step
closer I'll shoot.”


44
THE GRAY MASK
The four gathered together, whispering, inaud-
ibly to Garth; but this tense grouping, this excited
council warned him of their only possible answer.
"If you try to rush me," he cried, “ or if you
try to get out of the room, I'll turn the revolver
on the safe and blow the whole lot of us to powder
in this pleasant steel shell."
Slim turned, white-faced.
“You wouldn't have the nerve," he said.
“ After all, you're a bull.”
“ Just to show you," Garth answered quietly,
"I'll put the whole pack on the table. You've
called the turn, Slim. I'm that."
He snatched the mask from his face, and took a
police whistle from his pocket. He raised it to his
lips. He blew a call which he felt would penetrate
beyond these steel walls. It was the first unre-
strained sound the room had heard that night. It
thrilled Garth. It was like a tonic. He laughed
outright.
“No more fighting in the dark. Thank God!”
The four men stared with the helpless rage, the
abandoned suffering of snared animals.


CHAPTER IV
GARTH BUYS A BOUTONNIÈRE
ARTH wondered if relief would ever come.
He was afraid that the slip of frayed white
paper must have gone astray. Otherwise,
it seemed to him, it would have brought help even
before he had sounded his shrill alarm.
He glanced at Nora. She had placed her hand
on his arm. She gazed at the open door.
“I thought I heard _"
Then Garth heard, too — a tramping in the
house, a struggle outside the door, a voice whose
roar betrayed excitement and triumph.
“Where's Garth?”
The door filled with men in uniform.
Nora covered her face with her hands and turned
away. With a start Garth grasped the reason.
Planning vaguely, he arose and leaned over the
prostrate figure of George. The man breathed.
The wound was in the shoulder and appeared of
little real consequence. He straightened to find the
inspector standing over him with a look of pleas-
ure. It hurt Garth to think of that expression's
vanishing for one of unbelief and revolt.
“This fellow will stand his trial," he said.
This fellow will unbelief and rest expression's
45


$6
THE GRAY MASK
He added gently:
“For the murder of Joe Kridel. It was here,
you know."
The inspector puffed.
“Garth, I'm proud of you."
His eye caught the figure of Nora, crouched
against the safe. His voice grew hard and busi-
ness-like.
"Bring that woman here."
Slim, bound and at the door, laughed.
Garth grasped the inspector's arm.
“Don't," he said. “Don't bother about her.
Let her go.”
But the inspector strode to the safe, raised Nora,
and drew her hands from her face.
He gasped and leaned heavily against the divan.
All at once he appeared old.
Garth sprang to his side. He knew the inspector
must not speak now.
"I'll tell you,” he cried. “You have to thank
Nora as much as me."
He glanced at the girl.
“That is, we put it over together. It was a
winning combination, but we didn't have the nerve
to put you wise."
The color rushed back to Nora's cheeks, but the
inspector's face did not alter. He looked doubt.
fully from one to the other. At last he seemed to
gather his emotions in a volley of wrath for Garth.
“ You dragged a woman in this! You ought to


GARTH BUYS A BOUTONNIÈRE 47
be horsewhipped. Dragging my daughter into this
hell!”
Garth took the girl's hand.
“ Cheer up, chief," he said, “because if you and
she would only let me I'd drag her into a lot worse
than that."
He turned to her anxiously. There were tears
in her eyes. He questioned if they had sprung from
pity for him. She touched his hand. He looked
away, for the quick pressure expressed only thanks,
and a friendship troubled by his persistence.
During the next few days Garth saw little of
Nora, meeting her only once or twice by chance in
her father's office. He was not inclined, indeed,
to urge a more intimate opportunity. He had let
her see rather too much of his heart, and he shrank
from an appearance of seeking advantage from her
gratitude.
That gratitude existed abundantly, and the in-
spector shared it. The affair of the gray mask had
altered a good deal for Garth. It had placed him
all at once apart from his fellows in the bureau.
The newspaper publicity, which, unlike most of his
kind, he would have preferred to avoid, had swept
his reputation far beyond the boundaries of his own
city. He acknowledged a benefit in that. Such
notoriety might deter the desire for revenge of any
of the friends of Slim and George who remained at
large.


48
THE GRAY MASK
A very real danger for Nora and himself lay
there. It created, too, a tie that the inspector
visualized with an increasing friendliness and con-
fidence.
“If Slim and George go to the chair," the big
man said on one of those mornings when Garth had
stumbled into Nora in the office, “ you two are prob-
ably safe enough. With those birds salted away
the weaker brothers aren't likely to take any wild
chances, at least until the thing has been pretty well
forgotten.”
Apprehension clouded his sleepy eyes.
“But, young people, if Slim and George escaped
conviction or managed a getaway, I'd look for a
new first-class detective, and —"
He took Nora's hand and studied her face, whose
dark beauty remained unafraid.
“I guess I'd need another daughter, which I
couldn't very well have."
He laughed brusquely.
“Slim and George are tight enough now, so why
borrow trouble."
Garth saw the foreboding of his chief's eyes turn
to curiosity, a trifle groping.
“Wish you'd kept out of it, daughter."
“Don't scold," she laughed. “You did enough
of that the other night.”
“I'm not,” he grumbled, “I'm only wondering
where you got the nerve, and the brains.”
“Some from you, father."
“Not as much as all that. I guess your mother


GARTH BUYS A BOUTONNIÈRE 49
gave you a little that we hum-drum New Yorkers
don't quite understand.”
"If,” Garth said, “anything develops, "you'll
have to send Nora away."
“If there's time," the inspector agreed.
He turned back to his papers, shaking his head.
It is, perhaps, as well, when one fears, that the
march of routine brings new and destructive de-
mands. It was only a few days afterwards that
Garth and Nora were involved in events that drove
their minds for the time from the threat, which they
should never have quite lost sight of. Yet the Elm-
ford murder didn't leave room in one's mind for
much else.
On the afternoon before that tragedy Garth, leav-
ing headquarters, made an unaccustomed purchase.
Not long ago such affectation would have appealed
to his sturdy, straightforward mind of a detective
as trivial, possibly unmasculine. He reddened as
he handed his ten cents to the shapeless Italian
woman whose fingers about his coat lapel were con-
fusingly deft. He had no illusions as to the source
of this foppish prompting. The inspector had
called him in and told him that Nora would welcome
him at the flat for dinner that evening. The event
appeared a milestone on the amorous path he sought
to explore hand in hand with the girl. He realized
his desired destination was not yet in view, but such
progress required a deviation from the familiar —
some peculiar concession to its significance. So he
turned away from the cheap sidewalk stand, wear-


50
THE GRAY MASK
ing, for the first time in his life, a lower in his
button hole — a rose of doubtful future and un-
aristocratic lineage.
Before following Garth with his blushing decora-
tion it is serviceable to know what happened at
Elmford.


CHAPTER V
WHAT HAPPENED AT ELMFORD
WHAT night on the edge of winter it was
thoroughly dark when Dr. John Randall left
New York for his Long Island home. Trev-
ing had unexpectedly detained him at the club. The
interview had evidently projected more than the
unforeseen, for Randall's habitual calm, which car-
ried even to his hours of relaxation a perpetual
flavor of the professional, was suddenly destroyed
by the color and the lines of a passionate inde-
cision. He crossed the Queensborough bridge and
threaded the Long Island city streets with a reckless
disregard of traffic which probably went undisci-
plined only because of the green cross on the radia-
tor of his automobile.
His house, although just within the city limits,
had an air, particularly under this wan starlight,
remote and depressing. It stood in wide grounds
not far from the water. Heavy trees, which clus-
tered near, appeared to shroud it.
The doctor, scarcely slackening speed, swung his
car through the gateway and glided up the drive.
At the turn the house rose before him, square,
frowning, black. It was only after a moment that
a nebulous radiance from a curtained window up.
51


52
THE GRAY MASK
stairs defined itself as light. Usually there was
much light and the companionable racket of a busy
household.
Randall's hands trembled while he arranged the
levers and shut off the engine. Yet the radiance,
at last, was somewhat reassuring.
He sprang out, and nearly running, stumbling a
little, climbed the steps, crossed the verandah, and
pushed the electric button. From far away the re-
sponse echoed as through an empty house. No
sound of hurrying feet followed it. Randall, after
waiting for a moment, took out his latch-key and
entered.
Because of his impatience he didn't stop to fumble
for the switch. Instead he flung his hat haphazard
through the darkness, felt his way across the hall,
and climbed the stairs.
“ Bella !” he called.
Immediately the relieving answer came:
“Here — in my dressing-room, John. Why are
you so late?"
He leant weakly against the wall.
“I was detained. What's the matter?”
“Why don't you come in?" she asked.
He straightened and opened the door. The
light, shining upon his face, showed it still scarred
by anger and indecision. The relief of finding his
wife at home and safe was not, then, wholly cura-
tive.
He closed the door behind him and stared at her,
lying in a reading-chair, a book open on her knees,


WHAT HAPPENED AT ELMFORD 53
her dark and lovely face upraised to him, expectant,
questioning, a trifle startled.
“Where are all the servants ?” he demanded.
She stirred. The youthful fluency of her body in
the mauve dressing gown must have impressed it-
self upon the excited man by the door.
“I had to let myself in. I- Not a light. It
frightened me."
“You've forgotten," she answered. “We talked
it over a week or so ago, and I thought you had
agreed. Ellen's wedding. Naturally they all
wanted to go. I had an early dinner and packed
them off. But I counted on you. I was growing
afraid, all alone in the house. What kept you ? "
"Old Mrs. Hanson — at first. She's very ill.
I should really have stayed the night. I went to
the club for a bite -”.
He broke off. He walked closer, looking down
into her eyes which did not quite meet his.
“At the club — I knew I must come home to-
night. I-I sent your cousin, Tom Redding, to
Mrs. Hanson."
Her eyes wavered even more.
“Why? That isn't like you to — to turn a
critical case over to another man. I could have
managed. Anyway, you'd forgotten about my
maid's wedding. So it wasn't that. What —
what happened at the club?"
She shivered for a moment uncontrollably.
“John! What's the matter? Why do you glare
at me like that? Why do you look so — 50 -


54
THE GRAY MASK
She tried to laugh.
“So murderous ?”
His face worked.
“Bella,” he said, “I've not been altogether blind
about you and Treving."
She exclaimed impatiently, but her shiver was re-
peated, and the uncertainty of her voice lingered.
“You're not going to commence on that!”
He brushed her interruption aside.
“But Treving's seemed a decent enough sort in
spite of the way he spends his money and his Broad-
way record, and, you see, Bella, I've always trusted
you unquestioningly."
“And now? Tell me what you're driving at,
John. I won't put up -”
She sprang to her feet, facing him, wide-eyed,
furious, yet, one would have suspected, not com-
pletely free from apprehension.
Randall touched her arm.
“Don't work yourself up, Bella. You know...
I've told you. It's bad for you."
“What do you expect, when you insinuate "
“What have I insinuated, provided your con-
science's clear?"
He urged her back to the chair.
“It's just this: we must talk it out. I've a right
to know how far this folly's gone — what it por.
tends, so that I can take measures of defence for
myself and for my wife.”
She yielded and sat down, but now she bent for.
1.


WHAT HAPPENED AT ELMFORD 55
ward, her hands clasped at her knees to prevent
their trembling.
Randall clearly made an effort to speak normally.
His tone had resumed its professional quality. It
was, in a sense, soothing, but the power of the words
themselves could not be diminished, and, as he went
on, her emotions strayed farther and farther from
the boundaries she had plainly tried to impose.
"I overheard," he said. “ It was Delafield and
Ross. I went to Ross. I felt I knew him well
enough. My dear! It's common scandal — much
worse, I'll do you the credit of saying, than the
facts. You've been seen with Treving in cafés of
doubtful reputation, and out here on Long Island,
at some of these unspeakable road houses -".
He turned away.
“People aren't kind at construing those things.
He was a damned scoundrel to take you to such
places."
“I'll judge that,” she said. “If it's all you have
to charge me with!”
“Isn't it enough? Good God! How indis-
creet!”
“Then why not tell all this to Freddy Treving?"
she asked.
The lines about his mouth tightened. .
“Treving," he said with an affectation of sim-
plicity, "came into the club while I was talking with
Ross. He had been drinking — a great deal. I
didn't realize it at first — it's quite necessary you


56
THE GRAY MASK
should hear this so I took him out in the hall
and tried to talk to him reasonably. I told him
it must stop — any friendship between him and you."
She glanced up tempestuously.
“I'll not have my friendships questioned.”
"I'm sorry, Bella. You've placed this one be-
yond your own control. You made me speak to
Treving. It was the only thing to do. And he
was impertinent, defiant. As I told you, he had
been drinking, but that didn't explain his astound-
ing assurance. I don't want to do you an injustice,
but I couldn't help fearing his confidence was based
on an understanding with you.'
"John! You're mad!"
"No. I think it's Treving who's a little mad as
well as drunk."
He studied her face morosely.
“I told him, if I heard of his coming near you
again or communicating with you in any way, I would
thrash him within an inch of his life. Bella, he
laughed at me."
His eyes left hers. A look of utter discourage-
ment entered them. He spoke slowly, with un-
natural distinctness.
“Treving offered to lay me any stakes he'd spend
this evening with you without my knowing."
His eyes remained averted. Perhaps he didn't
dare risk the vital testimony hers might have yielded.
Her voice was sharp.
“Treving said that?”
He nodded.


WHAT HAPPENED AT ELMFORD 57
“But I don't think he'll succeed. And I warned
him as he deserved. You may as well make up
your mind, Bella, that that incident is finished."
“On the contrary," she answered, “it's only be-
gun.”
He swung around and bent over her, grasping
her shoulders, shaking her slightly.
“Unless, Bella — unless -"
His hands tightened until she cried out.
“That's why, when I saw the house dark, I was
afraid you'd gone. Did you and he know about
old Mrs. Hanson? Have you any arrangement
with him for tonight?"
She pressed her lips together. Blood congested
her cheeks.
He shook her more determinedly.
“ Answer. You have to answer that."
Her lips parted.
“Take your hands away."
“ Bella! You can't keep quiet. See how you're
racking me! Answer."
Somewhere in the house a bell commenced to
jangle, and continued, irritatingly, insistently.
She grasped his wrists and pushed his hands aside.
“You've gone rather too far," she whispered.
“I've a right. Answer. Was there an arrange-
ment? Did you expect him here tonight while I
struggled in town?"
The discordant jangling appeared to enter his
consciousness. He sprang back, listening.
“That might - By gad, if it were."
ca.


58
THE GRAY MASK
“It's the telephone,” she said, “in the library."
“Why isn't it answered? Oh, yes. You might
have kept Thompson at least. Let it ring. I shan't
go down."
“A doctor!" she said scornfully.
She arose with an effort. The lace of the mauve
dressing-gown exaggerated the difficulty of her
breathing. His glance, which took all this in, was
not wholly without contrition.
“Answer it,” she said. “I shan't fly from the
house to any man's arms while you are in the li-
brary.”
He half stretched out his hand to her, but the
appealing motion resolved itself into a gesture of
despair. He walked out and descended to the
library.
After a moment the discordant bell was silent.
The murmur of his voice, moment by moment in-
terrupted, arose through the quiet house to this
single lighted chamber.
She stood for a time by the door, listening. Once
or twice she placed her hand above her heart. At
last she turned back and gazed through the narrow
door to the next room where a yellow ribbon of
illumination from the reading light draped itself
across her bed. Her face set in the cruel distortion
that precedes tears, but at the sound of her hus-
band's returning footsteps it resumed a semblance
of control. No tears fell.
“Well?" she asked.


WHAT HAPPENED AT ELMFORD 59
ce was
SUS-
His face was haggard, confessing greater sus-
pense than before.
“The Hansons' butler," he said. “I- I'm
afraid the old lady's off this time. Redding had
told him to get me. They sent the chauffeur some
time ago with a fast car. Man said he ought to be
here."
He paused, searching her face in an agony of
indecision.
“Well? ” she repeated.
“ Bella,” he went on. “Won't you tell me?
Won't you promise ? That old woman — for years
she's depended on me. I could do more for her
than Redding. I might help her — a little —".
“Of course you'll go," she said.
He spread his arms.
“How can I go, knowing nothing, imagining
everything. Tell me. Was there an arrangement
with that beast? Bella, he'd been drinking. He's
unfit -"
She raised her hand.
“You only make matters worse. John, you've
done your best to make me despise you, to urge me
to Freddy Treving. For, understand, I do care for
him — a great deal. There's been nothing really
wrong, but evidently you're not content it should stop
at friendship. We can settle what's to be done
tomorrow. Meantime — you've put me in such a
position! What am I to say?"
She shrugged her shoulders.


60
THE GRAY MASK
bord I trust you. In the vaguely. .,
Weiled her hashe mornincorry"
“Go to your work, I've no arrangement with
Freddy. I don't expect him here. If he came I
shouldn't let him in. Your honor is safe enough
in my hands for tonight. Does that satisfy you?"
Her tone had a merciless lashing quality. He
bowed his head before it. His words stumbled.
“I trust you, Bella. I'm sorry."
“Then go. In the morning —"
She waved her hand vaguely.
“We'll arrange — something."
His eyes begged, but she offered nothing more.
So he went out, closing the door softly behind him.
Almost immediately he heard the sound of a
motor. He couldn't find his hat. The front door
bell rang, and, snatching an ancient cap from the
table, he opened the door. No one stood in the
verandah, but the glare of powerful automobile
headlights blinded him.
“You're Mrs. Hanson's chauffeur?” he called.
An indistinct voice came back affirmatively.
Randall caught the word "hurry.” Therefore he
ran down the steps, and, his eyes still blinded by
the glare, stepped into a large runabout and settled
himself by the driver.
They swung away at a breakneck speed which
before long swept Randall's cap from his head and
forced him to cling with both hands to the side of
the car.
The landscape tore up through the glare and dis-
appeared in a dense and terrifying confusion of dark-
ness.


WHAT HAPPENED AT ELMFORD 61
“Man!” he shouted. “This is dangerous.
There's no point in such haste.”
He managed to turn, but the other had protected
himself against the cold by rolling his collar up
about his face and drawing his slouch hat down
to meet it.
“Slower!” Randall commanded.
The car swerved. The other cried hoarsely:
“Look out! Hold tight!"
· Randall clung, but the car kept the road. Its
speed was all at once reduced. With a disconcerting
jerk it came to a standstill. As Randall, trying to
recover his balance, started to speak angrily, some-
thing soft and blinding struck his face and enveloped
his head. His hands, raised purposelessly, were
caught and pinioned. The cloth suddenly became
moist and a familiar odor arose. The other laughed
as he fastened a cord about the arms and body.
Randall gasped. His bound limbs relaxed.
The driver turned the car, and, with one arm
around the senseless doctor, drove in leisurely fash-
ion back towards Elmford.
Hidden among the undergrowth at some distance
from the house stood a small, partly ruined stone
building, used once, from the water flowing nearby,
as a spring house. The driver carried Randall to
the interior of this building and placed him on the
floor. Lighting a match, he glanced around.
The unfinished walls were mottled with the melan-
choly vegetation which takes hold in places where
the sun is forbidden. Drops of water oozed from
bu a spring of this watch, he bottled
places
from


62
THE GRAY MASK
the stones. The earth yielded to the pressure of
feet soggily.
The man raised his hat higher on his forehead and
lowered his coat collar, exposing a face that was
handsome in a weak and flippant way. He grinned
rather foolishly now at his victim, outstretched on
the damp floor. He swayed a trifle, steadied him.
self with an effort, then, as the glow of the match
expired, bent over and thrust his hand in Randall's
pocket.
He drew out a key ring. He struck another
match and ran quickly over the ring until he had
found the key he desired. This he slipped from
the ring into his own pocket and returned the rest
to Randall's coat.
On the point of leaving, he hesitated, and with a
resolute air stooped and removed the cloth from
Randall's head and the cord from the body. After-
wards he took a small bottle from his pocket, forced
the unconscious man's lips open and poured a quan-
tity of the fluid down his throat. Evidently the
doctor would sleep thoroughly and for a long
time.
When he had gathered up the cloth, the rope, and
the bottle, the man left the stone building, laughing
with a satisfaction that was not wholly vicious. In
spite of the anger his face had displayed the situa-
tion for him possessed at least a tiny element of
humour.
He secreted the compromising bundle beneath a
large stone in the bed of the stream.


WHAT HAPPENED AT ELMFORD 63
“Put it over," he muttered. “People'll say the
old boy was off his head or's a reason why we had to
have prohibition."
His lurch was more pronounced as he walked to
the car, and his manner less confident as he drove
on to the house.
He alighted and, steadying himself against the
mud-guard, gazed at the dark, forbidding façade
in which that diffused and indeterminate radiance
alone suggested habitation.
After a time he straightened, climbed the steps,
and crossed the verandah. He felt in his pocket
for the latch-key he had taken from Randall, in-
serted it in the lock, and noiselessly opened the door.
latch behind him. He placed the key on the hall
table. He folded his coat and laid it with his cap
on a chair. Stealthily he advanced along the dark
and silent hall to the stairway.
At the sound of his automobile Bella had half
arisin. She waited attentively, but when for some
time no sound followed, she walked to the window,
raised it, and leaned out, striving unsuccessfully to
penetrate the heavy night.
A board creaked in the corridor outside her door.
She swung around, her hand at her throat.
“John!"
Complete silence followed. Unless something
out of all reckoning had occurred, her husband could
not be back. None of the servants would have
used an automobile. Then who prowled about the


64
THE GRAY MASK
unlighted house and hesitated in the vicinity of her
door?
" John!"
The formlessness of her cry unveiled her fear.
The knob moved. Inch by inch the door opened,
and, inch by inch, as if impelled by a perfectly con-
trolled impulse from the door widening on the in-
truder, she retreated until the wall held her.
“ Freddy!" she gasped.
He stepped in and closed the door. It could
scarcely have been apparent to her all at once how
much he had been drinking, for, although his face
was flushed, the event justified that, and he had evi-
dently forced on himself for the moment a supreme
control. Yet her relief was short-lived. To be
sure she could leave the wall and advance to meet
him, yet, as if the room possessed a phonographic
quality, it was still loud with her husband's anxiety
and her own contemptuous promises.
“What are you doing here? How did you get
in? Go before — This is out of the question.”
His hand left the knob.
“ It's all right, Bella. Needn't be afraid. Ran-
dall's out of the way. He won't bother us tonight.”
“ Then you know about Mrs. Hanson ?" she
asked.
He nodded sagely.
“I know a lot.”
“You can't stay here,” she said. “Go."
He stretched out his hands.
“ Then you shall come with me. That's the


WHAT HAPPENED AT ELMFORD 65
scheme. Been in the back of my head all along.
We'll show a clean pair of heels. Time something
definite happened. Bella! - you know how I
love you."
A slight impediment, unfamiliar to the startled
woman, made itself noticeable in his voice. His.
control was limited. Already his true condition dis-
closed itself. Fear as powerful as that which had
greeted his stealthy approach returned to her eyes.
“You know I won't come with you, Freddy.
Perhaps later things will be arranged. John and
I had a talk tonight."
His face worked evilly.
“He had a talk with me, too,” he said. “It's
come to a showdown. No use talking about wait-
ing, Bella. It's now or never. You've held me off
too long. Got to choose. We love each other."
He advanced. She stepped behind the table.
“Don't come any nearer, Freddy. What's the
matter with you?”
He laughed.
“Just you."
He tapped the side pocket of his coat.
“By gad! I'd have killed him tonight to get to
you if it had been necessary. That's what you've
done to me, Bella.”
He reached across and grasped her arm. He
held her tight while he glided around the table. A
book fell to the floor, and another. A vase of roses
toppled over and shattered musically. The flowers
made brilliant patches on the dull carpet.


66
THE GRAY MASK
“Let me go. Listen, Freddy! We'll talk it
over tomorrow — all three. I promised John I
wouldn't see you tonight.”
“Tomorrow!” he laughed. “Too late. You
don't know all I've done for this — a real sportin'
proposition. I tell you it's now or never, and I'm
mad about you."
He got his arm around her.
“You've got to let me keep my promise."
Still laughing, he drew her closer. His flaming
eyes were near. His breath was revolting on her
cheeks.
She struggled, gasping for words.
“Let me go. You've been drinking. He
said _"
“He said !." he cried furiously.
“What are you going to do?" she begged.
As he flung her back against the table the side
pocket of his unbuttoned coat flapped against her
hand.
“I'm not going to let you slip now, Bella.”
“Freddy! You're killing me!”
She put her hand in his pocket and snatched out
an unpolished, stubby, evil cylinder with a square
grip which perfectly fitted her hand.
“Look out, Freddy! You hurt !”
He laughed again. His lips, repulsive and cruel,
crushed hers. Her smothered crying was bitter.
An explosion, slightly muffled, crowded the room
with sound. Another followed.


WHAT HAPPENED AT ELMFORD 67
His lips, a moment ago masterful with unreason-
ing vitality, no longer troubled her.
"Freddy!” she sobbed. “I'm sorry —”
He crumpled at her feet.
Near the water, spilled from the vase of roses,
a darker stain spread.
She screamed.
“What's the matter? Freddy! I'm sorry —
Say something - Pray!”
She stumbled to her knees by the dead man. Her
desolate cries fled ceaselessly through the open win-
dow.


CHAPTER VI
A CRYING THROUGH THE SILENCE
YARTH the next day did not repeat his floral
indiscretion. One experience had convinced
him that practice is necessary to the success-
ful threading of such by-ways. His rose, in fact,
had disclosed its limitations even before he had
reached the inspector's flat. On his entrance it had
not adorned his coat.
He read the brief and scarcely illuminating ac-
count of the Elmford murder in the morning papers.
Irritation at his own assignment - an unimportant
case up-town - let it slip through his mind without
arousing any exceptional interest.
When he returned to the central office in the after-
noon the doorman beckoned to him.
“ Inspector's been asking after you."
Garth yawned.
“All right. Tell him I'm here, Ed."
After a moment the doorman called :
“ Inspector says, walk in."
Garth went, and paused, ill-at-ease, just within
the doorway.
The huge man lolled in his chair. His quiet eyes
fixed Garth genially. For once he failed to fidget
68


CRYING THROUGH THE SILENCE 69
with his desk paraphernalia. His rumbling voice
was abnormally mild.
Garth appreciated these portents. They con-
noted favoritism, but he traced that to the inspec-
tor's love for his daughter, because he was too mod-
est to place in the scales his own conspicuous virtues.
“Come over here and sit down, Garth.”
Garth obeyed.
“Thanks, inspector."
The inspector's eyes twinkled.
“ Boys tell me you're a little sore on the jobs
you've had since you smashed Slim and George and
their favourites."
Garth grew red.
“There are old women everywhere," he said.
“Nothing to do but talk."
The inspector guffawed.
“Ain't it so ?”
“ Incriminating question, chief."
The other leaned forward.
"I can't take chances with such a valuable man."
He cleared his throat.
“Were you thinking of paying your party call
tonight? Because I've got to disappoint you. But
I don't want to do that two ways. I can't see any-
thing particularly dangerous about this job, but I'd
like you to look it over this afternoon. It's the
Elmford murder. Suppose you've read about it."
“I glanced it over in the morning papers," Garth
answered. “They were short on details."
“There doesn't seem much to clear up,” the in-


70
THE GRAY MASK
spector said, “except Dr. Randall's whereabouts.
The men I sent out this morning haven't got a trace.
Nothing's been heard from the ferries or the stations
or out of town. Seems there ought to be some in-
dication at the house for a sharp pair of eyes."
“There's no doubt then," Garth asked, " that he
killed Treving?"
The inspector ran his hand through his hair.
“Those must have been rotten papers you read,"
he answered. “Ask me if Cain killed Abel. Trev-
ing's goings-on with Randall's wife have been com-
mon gossip. The boys blushed about it in the clubs
up town. Listen, Garth. I've found out things you
won't get from any papers. Randall and Treving
met at their club last night. Seems Randall had
overheard some of this conversation. I've had a
few of the high-hat crowd down here today, and one
of the hall boys who heard what went on between
Randall and Treving. Randall warned Treving
away with threats. Treving lost his head and of-
fered to bet he'd spend last evening with Mrs. Ran-
dall."
“Good Lord!” Garth exclaimed. “Was he
drunk?”
“Can't tell,” the inspector said. “The boy
thought he had been drinking, but he didn't believe
he was drunk. That don't mean much. Nothing
like a college education to teach a man how to carry
his liquor. Anyway, Randall came back with his
own conviction. Swore he'd shoot Treving if such


CRYING THROUGH THE SILENCE 71
a thing came off. Well! Randall found Treving
late last night in the lady's dressing-room."
“Pretty bad,” Garth agreed, “but I've never
thought threats were very satisfactory evidence.”
“ Plenty of other evidence,” the inspector an-
swered. “Randall had stayed late in town. He
must have driven up and found Treving's car by
the verandah. They're both there now. Easy to
understand how that sight fixed his resolution to
kill. And the signs of the struggle are all over the
room. He left in a hurry after he had shot him.
He lost his hat off, rushing down the stairs. It's
lying by the newel post. Mark my words. When
we find Randall he'll have a new hat or none at all.
He had enough sense not to try to make his getaway
in his own machine or Treving's. That's why I'm
putting you on the case, Garth. You know what a
pipe it is to round up these amateur criminals. I
tell you this fellow's clever."
Garth considered.
“That's clear enough evidence," he said at last,
“if the woman — But I suppose she refuses to
open her mouth.”
The inspector's rapid fingering of his paper-cutter
confessed his annoyance. His small eyes narrowed.
“Wish I knew if she's acting. She's been prac-
tically off her head ever since that motor cop found
her kneeling over the body, screaming fit to - to
wake the dead. Nothing but hysterics all night and
day. Jones reports she's had some nervous trouble


CRYING THROUGH THE SILENCE 73
Garth smiled discreetly. He disentangled him-
self from the agent's curiosity and set off along a
road bordered by unlovely suburban dwellings.
These soon gave way to fields and hedges which
in turn straggled into a miniature forest. Just be-
yond that the gateway opened to the left. Garth
walked through and up to the secluded house. He
glanced at the two automobiles, near each other in
the drive.
A tired-looking man in plain clothes lounged in
the verandah. Another with a languid air paced
up and down at the side. They became animated
and converged on Garth, anxious to know if the
inspector had got any word of Randall.
While he was talking to them Garth first became
aware of a mournful undertone, sometimes punc-
tuated by a shrill, despairing note, now smothered
in a heavy silence.
“What's that?” he asked sharply.
The men moved restlessly.
“Been listening to that music all day," one of
them answered. “Lonely hole! Who'd want to
live here?”
“I see. Mrs. Randall," Garth said. “I'd
hoped she'd be able to stand a little talk by this
time."
“ Swell chance!” the man answered. “There's
a high and mighty sawbones with her who'd do
murder himself before he'd let you get within a mile
of her. I'm sick of the rotten case. Nothing to
it anyway."


74
THE GRAY MASK
" I'm going in, boys," Garth said. “ Inspector
told me everything had been left.”
One of the detectives handed him a key.
“ Room's locked. This lets in from the corridor.
Key to her bedroom door's in the lock."
Garth entered the hall. Randall's hat lay as the
inspector had described it. Its gilt initials stared
up at Garth with an odd air of appeal. He saw
Treving's coat and hat — another tragic excitation
for the doctor if he had chanced to notice them -
on a chair by the table. A key, which Garth found
fitted the front door, lay at the table's edge. Garth
replaced it there and continued up the stairs.
Mrs. Randall's cries were quieter. Garth, inured
as he was to unbridled suffering, was grateful. He
unlocked the door of the dressing-room and paused
just across the sill while he made a quick survey of
the scene of the murder. There was plenty of light
and air here, for the curtains were thrown back and
the window was open. Since the doctor had un-
questionably left by the front door he could not un-
derstand why the window had been opened on such
a chilly night. He mused. Before bothering with
Randall's course from the verandah it would be use-
ful to examine the source of everything.
The table cover was awry. One or two books lay
on the floor beneath. Half a dozen long-stemmed
roses, faded as they were, still splashed color across
the carpet of a neutral tint. As his eyes took them
in Garth smiled, shame-facedly reminiscent.
He started. The formless, agonized cry of a
d. Tilame-face, As his


CRYING THROUGH THE SILENCE 75
woman arose and seemed to set in violent motion
the atmosphere of this tragic chamber.
The cry was repeated. Garth shivered. He had
a quick uncomfortable fancy that the woman was.
making horrid and superhuman efforts to overcome
some obstacle to expression.
“I wish she'd keep quiet,” he thought. “Con-
found it! There's no acting about that. She wants
to talk and can't."
He returned to his scrutiny of the room. Its dis-
ordered condition suggested a struggle before Ran-
dall had fired the shots and dropped the revolver
there at the end of the table.
A circle of no great radius would have enclosed
the scattered and faded roses. No- not all. One
bud lay farther off, nearer the bedroom door.
Garth tiptoed to it, stooped, and picked it up,
examining it curiously while he tried to reconstruct
from it an active picture of the tragedy. The stem
had been broken away, indicating, since Treving
or Randall had probably worn it, the close and
desperate nature of their struggle. For it was not
like the roses from the vase. They were of a larger
variety and wider open, and this lay, he estimated,
near the spot where Treving, conquered and killed,
had fallen.
As he stooped there, reflecting, constantly troubled
by the impotent sounds from the next room, a ray
of late sunlight penetrated the foliage, entered the
open window, and gleamed upon a silvery thread
apparently in the carpet. In his haste to reach this


76
THE GRAY MASK
thread Garth stumbled noisily against a chair, and,
as if in response, while he detached the thread from
the carpet, a gentle knocking reached him from the
bedroom door.
A little ashamed of his racket, he thrust the thread
in his pocket, arose, and opened the door. A tall
man with iron-gray hair entered, closing the door
gently behind him. His tone was repressed, but
Garth did not miss its annoyance.
“Do you want to kill that woman?”
“I see. The chair," Garth said.
“Every sound from this room," the man ex-
plained, “must be torture to her. I suppose you
policemen think all this fuss and feathers necessary.
You'd do better to get after Randall.”
Garth curbed his own irritation.
“When do you think we'll be able to question
her ? "
“God knows! If this keeps up. She's in a bad
way. Do you suppose I'd waste my time here other-
wise. I tell you quiet is essential.”
Garth rested his hands against the table. The
knotted veins testified to his anxiety, but his tone
was casual.
“ By the way, doctor, since you're Mrs. Randall's
cousin, you must have known the doctor pretty well.”
“Yes, yes, very well."
“Did you ever notice — was he in the habit of
wcaring a flower in his button-hole ? "
The other glanced at him suspiciously.
“What are you driving at?"


CRYING THROUGH THE SILENCE 77
“ Answer me, please,” Garth insisted.
“I never saw him with one. He was a very
masculine type — no affectations.”
Garth flushed.
“And Mr. Treving?” he asked. “You knew
him, too?"
“Slightly."
“ Did he?"
“What? Wear a flower ? I'm sure I don't
know. Never noticed. But I think it likely
enough."
Garth's hands relaxed. He straightened.
“ Thank you, doctor. There'll be no more noise
here to-night. I'm sorry about the chair. I'd
rather you didn't say anything about those ques-
tions."
The doctor's face, which had shown suffering all
through, broke into a derisive smile.
" About the flowers! I understand. One must
appear wise, even if there's nothing to be wise
about."
“Quite so," Garth said gravely.
The other returned to the bedroom and Garth
went downstairs. He paused in the hall long
enough to take the latch-key from the table and slip
it in his pocket. Then he walked to the back of
the house where the servants were collected in an
uneasy group. There was a chauffeur, he found, a
.butler, a cook, and a maid. Another maid, they
told him, was with Mrs. Randall.
Garth questioned them about last night's wedding


78
THE GRAY MASK
and the hour of their return, but they were an in-
coherent lot, all talking at once, and saying nothing
useful. Therefore he returned to the verandah
where he stood, trying to put himself in Randall's
place, casting about for his likely course when he
had sensibly decided not to use his automobile.
The sun had set. The dusk had already rendered
objects at a distance indistinct. A decided chill
heralded the night. The two detectives sat discon-
solately on the steps. Mrs. Randall's voice con-
tinued its pitiful monotone, now and then torn by
unavailing and demoralizing cries.
Garth started. He stared at a patch of shrub-
bery on the hillside to the right. Certainly some-
thing had moved there. It occurred to him that to
a man in the shrubbery the three forms under the
verandah roof would be in this light invisible.
Again he was sure there was movement over there.
If it were Randall, come back! His experience
had taught him that such a return was psycholog-
ically conformable.
Without speaking to the others he walked to the
end of the verandah and dropped over the rail.
Aiding the friendly dusk by keeping behind trees
and bushes as far as possible, he approached the
patch of shrubbery. After a moment there was no
question. The foliage did not wholly secrete the
figure of a man. The man appeared to listen.
Garth's hand tightened on his revolver. The de-
scription fitted, but that was scarcely necessary, for
on this cold evening the man was hatless.


CRYING THROUGH THE SILENCE 79
Garth appraised the fugitive's damp and stained
clothing. He could picture him hiding all night and
day — perhaps in that small, half-ruined stone build-
ing which showed dimly from here - until the neces-
sities of hunger or the impulse to return to the scene
of his crime and learn its dénouement had driven him
from cover. The haggard face seemed eloquent of
guilt.
Garth sprang up and, his revolver ready, faced the
man.
“Dr. Randall! I've plenty of help near."
Randall stepped back.
“And what about Treving?” he asked in a husky
voice.
Garth watched him warily.
“I'm sorry," he answered, “but I've got to take
you for his murder."
Randall's face whitened. He held himself
rigidly. After a time he relaxed and laughed. His
words came with difficulty as if his mouth held no
moisture.
“I'm wanted for Treving's murder!"
“You'll come quietly?”.
“Yes. What's that noise? I thought I heard
some one scream, a -- a woman."
“Dr. Randall,” Garth began steadily, “ did you
ever -".
“See here,” Randall interrupted, “ I'll answer no
questions until I've seen my lawyer. Where's my
wife? What about my wife?"
Garth cleared his throat.


80
THE GRAY MASK
“ She's been hysterical — well — practically out
of her head.”
Garth could not fathom Randall's expression as
he walked at his side towards the house.
“Of course," he said, “ she'll be called as a wit-
ness against you — in fact the only human witness
of the crime itself.”
The doctor smiled contentedly.
“Yes," he said. “I should like to see her."
“ Dr. Redding's with her," Garth explained, " but
if it's in my presence I've no objection if he hasn't."
Garth waved the two excited detectives away. As
he led Randall across the verandah he was provok-
ingly conscious of something missing. When he had
opened the door and taken his captive into the hall,
he realized all at once what it was. Mrs. Randall's
pitiful and chaotic crying no longer disturbed the
quiet house. He noticed, too, that Dr. Redding
had descended the stairs and leant against the newel
post.
“Who's that?” Redding asked.
“Hello, Redding!” Randall said easily.
“ Randall! They've got you!”.
Randall's contented smile persisted.
“Mrs. Randall?" Garth asked in a low tone.
“She's quieter now? Dr. Randall would like to
see her.”
Redding stepped forward swiftly.
“He can see her," he sneered, “if he's got the
courage. She's dead.”
He swung in a fury on Randall.


CRYING THROUGH THE SILENCE 81
“Two murders on your soul! That's what it
comes to. What were you thinking of, man?
You'll go to the chair for this."
Randall staggered against the wall where he leant,
covering his face with his hands.
“My only human witness !” he mumbled.
Garth knew it would be a kindness to get him out
of this house, but first he did his duty with a strong
distaste.
“You'd better tell us," he said. “Say some-
thing. It might help you in the end."
Randall lowered his hands. His face worked.
“I'll say nothing — nothing," he cried fiercely.
He stretched out his hands to Garth.
“No handcuffs," Garth said gruffly. “We
might go in one of those automobiles.”
Randall stumbled forward. He groped about the
hat-rack.
“My hat! Where's my hat? Do as you wish.
But not Treving's car. Good God! You wouldn't
take me to jail in Treving's car!”.
Garth was restless the next day. The public, in
common with the police department and the district
attorney's office, looked upon the case against Ran-
dall as proved and, to all purposes, disposed of.
But Garth, walking along upper Fifth Avenue in
the afternoon, could not resist stopping at an ex-
pensive florist's and demanding a rose for his button-
hole. When it was brought he asked the price, and,
a good deal disconcerted, handed over the money.


82
THE GRAY MASK
For some time he gazed at the colorful, fragrant
flower which swayed on its graceful stem. Then,
with an absent air, he placed it on the marble stand
and moved towards the door.
The clerks glanced at each other, amused.
“You've forgotten your rose, sir," one of them
said.
“No matter," Garth replied. “I've had my
money's worth.”
He called at the inspector's flat after dinner.
The inspector was still at the office, but Nora com-
mented on his restlessness immediately.
“What are you working on, Jim? Of course
you're through with the Elmford case.”
“Not quite."
He faced her, fighting back the quick emotions in
which her proximity always involved him. He loved
her too much to risk demanding at random a fixed
understanding. Moreover, with this case on his
mind, it was clearly not the hour.
"I've arranged for a number of subpoenas to be
served in the morning," he said. “The servants
have left the house. Your father has arranged to
call his men in. In an hour or so the house will be
cmpty. Nora — 1 — can't stay long this evening."
“Jim! What's on your mind? It's a clear
case."
“Yes," he answered. “That's why Jones and
the other flat-foot your father sent. out yesterday
didn't search the neighborhood far enough to find
the stone building where Randall hid. It's why


CRYING THROUGH THE SILENCE 83
when I arrested him I didn't look it over either.
The arrest at the time seemed enough. But he
didn't act like a man caught with the goods. Your
father says he's clever. Maybe he is, but I wonder
if he is to that extent. It's been the trouble all
along. It's too clear a case. I talked to his law-
yers this afternoon. He's refused to put in any
defence."
“Isn't that proof, Jim, that he knows he hasn't
a chance?"
He fumbled, almost unconsciously, with the but-
ton-hole in the lapel of his coat.
“It might mean," he answered, “ that he was
protecting somebody else, and that makes, one won-
der if there mightn't be something in the house —
letters, perhaps, in that bedroom I've never had
a chance to explore — something he would like to
have destroyed.”
“Trust your instinct, Jim.".
He arose smiling.
“That's what I've arranged to do."
“ Then you're going out there to-night?”
“Yes.”
He hesitated, but the temptation was too strong.
“How would you like a taxi-ride to Elmford ?"
“Jim, you talk like a millionaire."
“If anything comes of it,” he said, “ the city will
pay. If nothing does I'll look an awful fool, so
I'd rather you didn't ask any questions now. But
if you want to come — I know you're game."
She laughed and got her hat and coat.


THE GRAY MASK
So they drove to the lonely patch of woods near
the Elmford gate where Garth instructed the driver
to wait for them. He led Nora, warning her not
to speak, through the obscurity to the entrance.
There he paused, and, after a moment, whistled on
a low, prolonged note.
Almost immediately the sound of voices came to
them and the scraping of feet in the gravel. Two
blacker patches scarcely outlined themselves against
the black shrubbery
" Jones !” Garth called softly.
The men approached.
“ All right,". Garth said. “Go along home.
When did they take Mrs. Randall away ? "
“Over an hour ago. Thought you were never
coming. Spooky hole!”
“No alarms ?” Garth asked.
“No," Jones replied, “but I can hear that
woman yelling yet.”
Garth laughed, uneasily.
“Well, good-night. There's no secret about
your leaving, but don't mention at the station that
I'm here."
The men merged into the darkness by the gate.
Garth took Nora's arm, and, circling the house
at a distance, reached the stone building by the
stream. He entered, sniffing suspiciously. When
he had closed the door he took his flashlight from
his pocket and pressed the control.
“ Don't move around, Nora."
Quickly he examined the confusion of footprints.
Garth laughed-night. Ihtion at the


CRYING THROUGH THE SILENCE 85
It impressed him at once as significant that none
strayed far from the threshold. The damp floor
farther in was disturbed only by a long, irregular
depression modelled, he knew, by a body, lying
prone.
“Think of lying there, Nora,” he said. “I'd
have preferred standing indefinitely. And why
didn't he move around?”
Nora's teeth chattered.
“ It's bitter cold in here."
Garth's face set.
“ And a fastidious man like the doctor lies here
all night and most of the day. Then let's see."
He went outside and ran his light over the lines
of footprints which converged at the door. One
set straggled unevenly up the stream. With an
exclamation he followed it along the bank until it
swung close to the water. He stooped. His lamp
moved searchingly about the bottom of the shallow
creek. Nora bent over his shoulder.
" Jim! Do you see that stone? There. Hold
your light steady. It's been moved. Look at the
Garth reached over, rolling the stone away. He
drew from the water a stout, slender rope and a
black cloth. As he raised the cloth a tiny bottle
fell from its folds and splintered on the rock.
Nora's eyes sparkled.
“ Does it fit, Jim?”.
“It suggests a lot," he answered, “and it ex-
plains something, but it's little use unless —"
.


86
THE GRAY MASK
He caught his breath.
“He might be that kind of a fool."
He sprang upright.
“Come along. We've got to turn up something
in the house that will make Randall talk. Nora!
If there had been letters do you think she would
have destroyed them one by one? You see there
was no chance after the murder, and don't women
cling to such things ?”
“She'd probably keep them,” Nora said.
They climbed the hill. The unlighted house, like
a thing dead itself and surrendered to decay, arose
before them forbiddingly.
“ Jones was right,” Nora said. “It's spooky."
Garth crossed the verandah on tip-toe and silently
opened the door.
“No lights," he breathed.
Nora shivered.
“It's as cold and damp here as the stone house.
Can you find your way?”
“ Yes. Sh-h."
He led her across the hall, up the staircase, and
down the corridor to the dressing-room. The win-
dow had been closed in there, and there was no
escape for a humid and depressing chill which en-
veloped them with discomfort.
He found the easy chair and told Nora to sit
down. He drew another one close.
“But why not lights, Jim?"
"It's logic to wait awhile,” he said. “The let-
ters, you know.”


CRYING THROUGH THE SILENCE . 87
She gasped.
“I begin to see."
“Maybe I shouldn't have brought you," he whis-
pered.
“But who -"
“Sh-h!”
“Did you hear anything?" she asked.
“No. If Randall never wore a rose -"
“ Jim! I've never — felt such darkness."
“ I must think," he said.
But his brain refused to enter the new country
of speculation whose gates the discovery in the
stream had opened. The dank air of the room
where Treving had been murdered was thick with
imminence. A formless anticipation possessed
Garth's mind. He had a quick instinct to turn on
the lights and proceed with his search, abandoning
this course which logic had suggested, but which
was fraught, he had no doubt, with positive appre-
hension to Nora. Why not, indeed, satisfy her
curiosity now? But his pride denied the impulse.
He wanted first something more tangible, something
more provocative of her praise.
" It frightens me here," Nora breathed. “I've
the queerest desire to — to scream."
Her laugh was scarcely audible.
Her words had set Garth's memory to work. He
knew again what he missed in this silent house —
the amorphous screams of a woman in an agony
powerless to express itself. How she must have
wanted to speak! How horribly she had tried un-


88
THE GRAY MASK
til the supreme, the enduring silence had clutched
about her throat! The sullen and sepulchral air
of the room seemed to vibrate with the wraiths
of those efforts.
Was the door open to the next room where she
had struggled and died?
Garth stirred uneasily.
Nora spoke.
“How long?"
“Not long," Garth whispered, " or I'll turn the
· lights on. I'll look.”
His thoughts swung back to the next room and
the despair it had harbored. Could such passionate
resistance to circumstance perish utterly? Could
the violent will behind it accept silence and pass
with the body into nothingness ?
What had she wanted to say ?
A movement, scarcely audible, reached him from
the next room.
Nora's hand touched his arm. He was aware
of the trembling of her fingers. He leant forward,
listening. He scarcely caught Nora's voice.
“You heard — that?”.
The movement was repeated -- somebody -
something stirred in the dark room where the woman
had died.
Nora swayed against him. Her other hand
touched his shoulder. His heart leapt, but he real-
ized that this contact was only an impersonal ap-
peal for protection. So he drew his arms back,
but his brain was clearer. He no longer answered


CRYING THROUGH THE SILENCE 89
to the fancy that the echoes of those screams tor-
tured his ears.
“Stay here quietly,” he whispered.
“Don't go in there, Jim.”
He pushed her hands gently away. His move-
ments as he crossed the floor were stealthier than
those which still persisted in the bedroom. He
paused in the doorway. The darkness was com-
plete, yet he could locate the movements now
against the farther wall.
He drew out his revolver and his flashlight. He
pressed the button. The glare splintered the
blackness and centered on the figure of a man who
bent over the open drawer of a desk.
“Throw your hands up!” Garth said.
In the dressing-room Nora cried out.
The man at the desk swung around, lifting his
hands and exposing the white and contorted face
of the butler, Thompson.
Garth laughed nervously.
“I've got him, Nora."
“Wh— what do you mean?” the man asked.
“I came back — Who are you? What do you
want of me?"
Garth stepped forward aggressively. His con-
science troubled him not at all.
“I want you for the murder of Frederick Trev-
ing — there in the next room.”
The fellow's jaw dropped.
“No-no. I had nothing to do with it. I
swear."


90
THE GRAY MASK
Garth raised his hand to the lapel of the butler's
coat.
"I thought so," he said. “No question about
you, my man. You wore the rose I found where
Treving's body lay. Got it at the wedding, didn't
you?"
The man sank on the unmade bed.
“What are you talking about? I had nothing
to do with it."
“Tell that to the judge who'll send you to the
chair," he said.
The butler shook. He raised his uncertain hands
to his face. He shuddered.
“No, no. I tell you I had nothing to do with it.
It was Mrs. Randall. He attacked her, and she
shot him.”
Garth relaxed.
“ You heard that, Nora ?".
Nora came to the door.
“Yes."
“Then,” Garth said, “I am about through with
the case.”
He turned back to Thompson.
“But you're not clear yet. How did you hap-
pen to be here? I know you went to the wedding
with the rest."
“Yes, but Mrs. Randall got me on the telephone
— said the doctor had been called back to town
and she was nervous and I'd have to come home.
As I let myself in the back way I heard her scream.


CRYING THROUGH THE SILENCE 01
I ran up and through this room. I got to the door
just in time to see her shoot him. But when I
rushed in and tried to lift her up she screamed. I
couldn't do anything with her. And I got fright-
ened. When I heard the motorcycle and guessed
it was a policeman who had heard her screaming,
I ran out the servants' entrance and went back to
the wedding and came home with the rest. I was
afraid they would take me, and she couldn't say
anything to clear me. That's the truth."
Garth looked him over contemptuously.
“And, knowing the truth, you'd have let Dr.
Randall go to trial.”
Thompson uncovered his face. Through his
tears his eyes glowed with an exceptional devotion.
“I worked for her, sir. I had been with her
family ever since she was born. Besides, if he
didn't want to give her away, what business was it
of mine? He sent for me to-day, and when I told
him I had seen her shoot him, he made me promise
to keep my mouth shut.”
“I know he sent for you," Garth said. “That's
why I hoped to find you here to-night. He sus-
pected you were a go-between and that there might
be letters or something here to incriminate her with
Treving."
Thompson nodded.
“I told the doctor, a few letters and trinkets.
He said I must get them as soon as the detectives had
left and the house was clear. But I can say, sir,


92
THE GRAY MASK
there was never anything really out of the way.
She wasn't quite happy with the doctor. It would
be a kindness to the dead -
. Garth smiled, turning to Nora.
“You wouldn't give me away, would you? All
right, Thompson. Do what you came to do.”
Thompson shot him a grateful glance and re-
turned to his obliterating task at the desk. Garth
snapped on the light.
“But, Jim," Nora asked, “how did you know
that man had been a witness? Was it a guess ? "
Garth shook his head.
“ Simple enough," he said.
He took a short, slender, silvery thread from
his pocket. With a shame-faced look he handed
it to Nora.
It's a wire that made a broken, worn-out rose look
a whole lot better than it was. I found it and the
rose in the next room. I recognized it, because,
Nora, when I came to dinner the other night I
stopped at a sidewalk stand and bought a rose for
my button-hole. Silly, wasn't it? But it was a
good thing, because I got stung with one of those.
That's why I knew what the broken stem and the
wire meant. I learned that Randall didn't wear
flowers, and I made sure this afternoon what kind
of a rose Treving would have worn. Therefore,
somebody else had been in that room, wearing a
cheap rose which he had almost certainly got at
that cheap wedding. When I heard Randall had


CHAPTER VII
NORA FEARS FOR GARTH
ROM the moment of his solution of the Elm.
ford affair Garth was recognized at head-
quarters as the man for the big jobs — the
city's most serviceable detective. For one who ac-
cepted his success so modestly it was difficult to
breed jealous enemies. There was, to be sure, some
speculation as to how long such a man would chain
his abilities by the modest pay of the department,
and a wish here and there that he would find it con-
venient to free himself for broader fields in the near
future.
Garth realized that it was the inspector's atti-
tude that had determined his new standing. Un-
der other circumstances things might have pro-
gressed more slowly. The tie formed the night of
the arrest of Slim and George was still strong.
Garth arranged, when he went to bear the news
of his discovery to Dr. Randall in the Tombs, to
catch a glimpse of the two. Their greeting suffi-
ciently defined the threat he had always known ex-
isted. In their faces he read an intention from
which he shrank, more for Nora's sake than for
his own. He didn't stay to argue. He walked
95


96
THE GRAY MASK
e
on to Randall's cell and told the stricken man that
in a few minutes he would be free.
Garth had been a good prophet. Randall's first
resentment gave way to a gratitude, expressed with
difficulty but genuine.
" It - it was exceptionally fine of you to let
Thompson destroy those things."
“I would want someone to do as much for me,"
he answered, “ that is, if I ever had the nerve to
do what you did. That was the fine thing, doc-
tor."
And Garth went away, aware that he had made
a staunch friend.
The inspector was troubled when he heard of
Slim and George's open hatred. He saw the dis-
trict attorney, and others whose ears he had. On
his return he sent for Garth.
“The district attorney tells me," he said, " that
there isn't a loophole. They'll be convicted and go
to the chair as certain as that when the moon shines
lovers kiss. If they don't escape. Without sug-
gesting that every crook doesn't get the same at-
tention, I've seen to it that those chair warmers
will be watched closer than Fido watches the
butcher.”
So again Garth put the matter out of his mind,
and was aided by an unexpected threat, apparently
just as serious, that faced him a very short time
after.
On that fall morning he paused on the threshold
of the inspector's office, and, surprised and curious,


NORA FEARS FOR GARTH
97
glanced quickly within. It was not so much that
Nora sat by the window, clothed in her habitual
black, nor was his interest quickened by the fact
that she knitted deftly on some heavy, gray gar-
ment. Rather his concern centered on the inspector
who had left his desk and whose corpulent, lethargic
figure moved about the room with an exceptional
and eccentric animation.
At Garth's step Nora glanced up, smiling. The
inspector retarded his heated walk. To ease the
perceptible strain Garth spoke to Nora.
“Seems to me you knit no matter where you
are."
“When one knits for the hospitals," she answered,
“any place will do. I had hoped my example
might quiet father. I only dropped in for a chat,
and look at him. What a welcome! I'm afraid,
Jim, he has something disagreeable for you."
The inspector paused and sat on the edge of his
desk.
“Maybe so. Maybe not," he rumbled. “I
don't like working through the dark, so I don't like
to ask anybody else to do it. I've got to, though.
Cheer up, Garth. I'm asking you."
He raised his paper cutter and jabbed at the desk
with a massive petulance.
“Ever since I got down this morning," he went
on, “ I've been hounded by telegrams and long-dis-
tance calls. Well? Do you want a holiday? It's
apt to be a hell of a holiday. Excuse me, Nora.”
“I see,” Garth said. “Something out of town.”


NORA FEARS FOR GARTH
99
The inspector wrote hurriedly on a piece of paper.
“Here's his name and address. Catch the ten
o'clock from the Grand Central and you'll get up
there to-night.”
Garth took the slip. Before placing it in his
pocket he glanced it over.
“ Andrew Alden,” he saw. “Leave Boston from
North Station on four o'clock train and get off at
Deacon's Bay."
“I've heard of Mr. -" Garth began.
The inspector's quick, angry shake of the head
in Nora's direction brought him to an abrupt pause.
He walked to Nora and took her hand.
“Then I won't see you until after my holiday,”
he said with a smile.
Her eyes were vaguely uneasy.
“I agree with father,” she said. “It isn't safe
to walk through the dark. Won't you tell me where
you're going?”
Garth's laugh was uncomfortable. He didn't
pretend to understand, but his course had been
clearly enough indicated.
“I'll leave that for the inspector," he answered.
“I have to rush to pick up my things on the way
to the train."
The uneasiness in her eyes increased.
“You know, Jim, as father says, you can turn it
down. It might be wiser."
His heart responded to her anxiety. In view of
her fear it was a trifle absurd that their farewell
should project nothing more impulsive than a hand-


100
THE GRAY MASK
clasp. Its only compensation, indeed, was the re-
luctance with which she let his fingers go.
When Garth had left, Nora arose and faced her
father.
"What's all this mystery?” she demanded.
“It's easy enough to guess there's danger for Jim,
and you know a lot more than you pretend."
“See here, Nora," the inspector grumbled, “I
usually give the third degree myself in this place."
She rested her hands on the desk, studying his
uncertain eyes.
“Why," she asked, “wouldn't you let Jim tell
me the man's name?”
His bluster was too apparently simulated.
“What did you come down for this morning any-
way? No sense in your getting upset. A detective
bureau isn't a nursery.".
She straightened slowly, her face recording an
unwelcome assurance.
“Politics !" she cried. “And Jim's leaving
from the Grand Central. I know. He's going to
Mr. Alden's at Deacon's Bay. I see why you
wouldn't let him tell me."
“Place is all right," the inspector said stub-
bornly. “You've seen it. You were there with
me two summers ago. What's the matter with the
place ? "
“No use trying to pull the wool over my eyes,"
Nora answered. “It's the loneliest place I've ever
seen, and you ought to know I'd remember Mr.
Alden's big furnaces and machine-shop. I read the


NORA FEARS FOR GARTH ΙΟΙ
101
papers, father. He's staying up so late this year
on account of the enormous war orders he's taken.
You know as well as I do that that may mean real
danger for Jim. What did Mr. Alden tell you?"
The inspector spread his hands helplessly.
“I sometimes think, Nora, you'd make a better
detective than any of us. Alden's sick and nervous.
I guess that's all it amounts to. He's probably
scared some German sympathizer may take a pot
shot at him for filling these contracts. And he's
worried about his wife She won't leave him there
alone, and it seems all their servants, except old
John, have cleared out.”
"You said something to Jim about spooks,” Nora
prompted.
“Thought you'd come to that," the inspector
said. “You're like your mother was, Nora — al-
ways on the look-out for the supernatural.”
“So, I gather, were the servants," she answered
drily.
“Silly talk, Alden says, about the woods back
of his house. You remember. There was some
kind of a fight there during the Revolution - a lot
of men ambushed and massacred. I guess you saw
the bayonets and gun-locks Alden had dug up. Ser-
vants got talking — said they saw things there on
foggy nights.”
The inspector lowered his voice to a more seri-
ous key.
“The angle I don't like is that Alden's valet was
found dead in those woods yesterday morning. Not


102
THE GRAY MASK
a mark on him. Coroner, I believe, says apoplexy,
but Alden's nervous, and the rest of the help cleared
out. I suppose they'll get somebody else up as
soon as they can. Meantime Alden and his wife
are alone with old John. Confound it, Nora, I had
to send him somebody."
“But without a word of this !”
“I tell you I don't like it. I didn't want to do
it. It was Alden's idea — would have it that way.
Frankly I don't make it out, but maybe, being on the
spot, he knows best.”
· "There's something here," she said, “that we
can't understand — maybe something big. It isn't
fair to Jim.”
The inspector looked up slyly.
“ Jim," he said, “can take care of himself if any-
body can. Seems to me you're pretty anxious.
Sure you haven't anything to tell me about you and
him? If you had, I might make a place for him
watching these ten-cent lunch joints to see that cus-
tomers didn't carry away the hardware and crock-
ery. Then all the danger you'd have to worry
about would be that he might eat the food.”
But Nora failed to smile. She glanced away,
shaking her head.
“I've nothing to tell you, father,” she answered.
“Nothing now. I don't know. Honestly I don't
know. I only know I've been through one such ex-
perience, and if anything happened to Jim that I
could help, I'd never forgive myself."


CHAPTER VIII
THROUGH THE DARK
THE night had gathered swiftly behind a cur-
tain of rain. Garth, glancing out the win-
dow of the train, saw that darkness was al-
ready close upon a somber and resentful world.
Pines, hemlocks, and birches stretched limitlessly.
The rain clung to their drooping branches like tears,
so that they expressed an attitude of mourning
which their color clothed convincingly. The roar-
ing of the train was subdued, as if it hesitated to dis-
turb the oppressive silence through which it passed.
The car, nearly empty, was insufficiently lighted.
Garth answered to the growing depression of his
surroundings. His paper, already well-explored, no
longer held him. He continued to gaze from the
window, speculating on the goal towards which he
was hurrying through this bleak desolation. The
inspector's phrase was suddenly informed with
meaning. He was, in every sense, advancing
through the dark. The realization left him with a
troublesome restlessness, a desire to be actively at
work.
The last streak of gray had long faded when the
train drew up at Deacon's Bay station — a small
103


104
THE GRAY MASK
building with a shed like an exaggerated collar about
its throat. At this hour there was no operator on
duty. Only one or two oil lamps maintained an
indifferent resistance to the mist. Garth saw a
horse and carriage at the rear. He walked to it.
"Could you drive me to Mr. Andrew Alden's
place ?” he asked.
From the depths of the carriage a native's voice
replied:
"Probably you're the party I'm looking for. If
you're Mr. Garth from New York, step in.'
Garth obeyed, and they drove off along a road
for the most part flanked by thick woods.
Without warning, through an open space, Garth
saw a flame spring upward, tearing the mist and
splashing the sky with wanton scarlet.
“What's that?” he asked sharply.
The glare diminished and died. The native
clucked to his horse.
“Mr. Alden's furnaces,” he answered.
Garth stirred.
“I see. Iron. Steel. And now it works night
and day?"
“On war orders," the native answered. “Now
you wouldn't think we'd ever have got in the war,
would you? There's a whole town — board shacks
— to take care of the men — more'n fifteen hun-
dred of them."
Garth nodded thoughtfully. Here at the start
was a condition that might make the presence of a
detective comforting to his host.


106
THE GRAY MASK
The driver glanced over his shoulder again. He
hurried his horse.
“ Laughing's cheap," he said, “but you can judge
for yourself how lonely it is, and Mr. Alden's right
on the ocean - only house for two miles. You see
he owns a big piece of this coast — woods right
down to the water. They've always told about a
lot of soldiers being killed in those woods during
the Revolution. All my life I've heard talk about
seeing things there. Servants got talking a few
days ago — said they saw shadows in grave clothes
going through the woods. I laughed at that, too.
But I didn't laugh when they found Mr. Alden's
valet yesterday morning, dead as a door nail.”
Garth whistled.
“Violence ?"
“Not a sign. Coroner says apoplexy, but that
doesn't convince anybody that doesn't want to be."
“ Curious," Garth mused.
For some time a confused murmuring had in-
creased in his ears — the persistent fury of water
turned back by a rocky coast.
They turned through a gateway, and, across a
broad lawn, he caught a glimpse of lights, dim, un-
real, as one might picture will-o-the-wisps. But the
night and the mist could not hide from Garth the
size of the house, significant of wealth and a habit
of comfort. That such an establishment should be
practically bereft of service was sufficient proof that
there was, indeed, something here to combat. Yet
from the driver he could draw nothing more ponder-


THROUGH THE DARK
107
able than the fancied return of the dead to their
battlefield, and a distrust, natural enough in a na-
tive, of the horde of new men gathered for the
furnaces.
· When he had stepped from the carriage he saw
that the lights were confined to the lower hall and
one room to the left. The rest of the great house
stretched away with an air of decay and abandon-
ment.
In response to his ring he heard a step drag across
the floor, but the door was not opened at once. In-
stead a quavering voice demanded his identity.
With some impatience Garth grasped the knob,
and as he heard the carriage retreat towards the
town, called out:
“My name is Garth. I'm expected.”
The door was swung back almost eagerly, and
Garth stepped across the threshold of the lonely
house.
An old man faced him, white-haired, bent at the
shoulders, unkempt and so out of key with the neat
hard-wood floor, the hangings, and the wainscot of
the hall — a witness to an abrupt relaxation of dis-
cipline.
“Thank heavens you've come, sir,” the old man
said.
“ Then you know,” Garth answered. “What's
wrong here?”
But before the other could reply a man's voice,
uncertain, barely audible, came from the lighted
room to the left.


108
THE GRAY MASK
“Who is that? If it is Mr. Garth bring him
to me at once."
Garth became aware of the rustling of skirts.
He stepped into the room, and, scarcely within the
doorway, met a young woman whose unquestionable
beauty impressed him less than the trouble which,
to an extent, distorted it. Her greeting, too, al-
most identical with the old servant's, disturbed him
more than his. It was reminiscent of the desolate
landscape he had seen from the train, of the forest
loneliness through which he had just driven, of the
gaping scarlet that had torn across the cloud-filled
sky.
“ I'm glad you've come. I—I was afraid you
mightn't make it."
Garth's glance appraised the room. It was a
huge apartment, running the width of the house.
Casement windows rose from the floor to the ceil-
ing. An oak door in the farther wall, towards the
rear, was closed. There were many book-cases.
A fire burned drowsily in a deep hearth. Before it
stood a writing-table with an inefficient lamp, and
at its side -- the point where Garth's eyes halted -
a man sat - huddled.
The man wore a dressing gown and slippers. His
hair was untidy. From his cadaverous face eyes
gleamed as if with a newly-born hope. He put his
hands on the chair arms and started to rise, then,
with a sigh, he sank back again.
“You'll excuse me," he said. “I've not been my.


THROUGH THE DARK
109
self lately. It is an effort for me to get up, but I
am glad to see you, Mr. Garth — very glad.”
Garth understood now why the voice had barely
carried to the hall. It lacked body. It left the
throat reluctantly. It crowded the room with a
scarcely vibrating atmosphere of dismay. Garth
asked himself hotly if he had been summoned as
an antidote to the airy delusions of an invalid.
A stifled sound behind him caused him to turn
swiftly. He was in time to see the distortion of
the woman's features increase, to watch the resist-
less tears sparkle in her eyes and fall, to be shamed
by the laborious sobs which, after she had covered
her face, shook her in freeing themselves.
He advanced, at a loss, shocked by this unfore-
seen breakdown. He took Alden's hand, but the
other appeared to have forgotten his presence.
“Don't, Cora,” he mumbled. “You mustn't do
that any more. We are no longer — alone."
Garth glanced from one to the other, answering
to the atmosphere of dismay, which moment by mo-
ment became more unavoidable. Yet what could
there be here beyond loneliness, and, perhaps,
threats from those against whose cherished prin-
ciples Alden's furnaces were busy night and day?
The loneliness, Garth acknowledged even then, could
account for a lot, but, he decided, a doctor was
needed here as much as a detective.
At last Mrs. Alden resumed her control. She
faced Garth apologetically.


THROUGH THE DARK III
III
Garth shook his head.
“I never drink when I'm at work."
“But you are our guest,” she said.
“Our guest,” came in her husband's difficult voice.
In neither of their faces could Garth read the
reproof their tones had suggested. What point
could there be in this abnormal masquerade?
He glanced at his watch. Mrs. Alden caught
the gesture. She walked to a cabinet and measured
her husband's medicine.
"It's time," she said as she gave it to him, " that
we all were in bed. Shall I ring for John ? "
“I'll ring," Garth answered, “a little later. I
should be glad of a word with your husband."
When Mrs. Alden had gone he tried to talk
sanely to the sick and melancholy man, urging him
to seek more cheerful surroundings. Alden merely
shook his head.
“See here," Garth exploded at last. “There's
no point in your closing your confidence to me. It
only makes matters a thousand times more difficult.
You're afraid. Of what?".
The other answered with a difficulty that was
not wholly physical. He had hit upon this incom-
prehensible plan and he would carry it through
“Then it's only fair to tell you," Garth said,
" that the man who drove me out talked a little.
I've heard about your boat, of why your servants
ran, of the strange men with whom you've crowded
the village. Tell me one thing. Have you had
threatening letters about your contracts ? "


112
THE GRAY MASK
“Several.”
The deep lines in Alden's face tightened.
.“ Don't think,” he managed to get out,“ that I'm
a coward. I'll stay. My contracts will be carried
through."
“No," Garth answered, “you're not that kind
of a coward, but there's something else. Don't
deny, Mr. Alden. You're more than sick. You're
afraid. What is it?".
Alden shuddered.
"A-a coward."
The words stumbled out of his mouth.
“But I don't know what it is. You're to tell me,
Mr. Garth, if it's anything."
“This rot about the woods and the spirits of
dead soldiers ?" Garth asked.
Alden stirred. He nodded in the direction of
the rear casement windows.
“Just across the lawn."
"You haven't seen? ” Garth asked sharply.
“But,” Alden said, “the servants --"
This, then, Garth decided, must be the source
of the fear the other's appearance recorded.
“ Nonsense, Mr. Alden. That's one of the
commonest superstitions the world over, that sol-
diers come back to the battlefields where they have
died, and in time of war -".
"If there's nothing in it,” Alden whispered," why
is it so common? Why did my servants swear they
had seen? And the fog! We've had too much


THROUGH THE DARK
113
fog lately - every night for a week. My man died
in the fog."
Garth whistled.
“ Could they have mistaken him for you?"
“There were no marks on the body."
Alden looked up. His voice thickened.
“We are talking too much. I- I want you to
stay and judge for yourself.”
Garth arose and walked to the rear window, but
he could see nothing for the mist. He stood there,
nevertheless, for some time, puzzled and half angry.
The mental and physical condition of his host, Mrs.
Alden's shattered nerves, the extreme loneliness, im-
pressed on him a sense of uncharted adventuring.
“Why," he asked himself, “won't these people
talk? What do they expect me to find in this
house?”
When he turned back he saw that Alden's eyes
were closed. The regular rising and falling of his
chest warned Garth to quietness. He would not
disturb the worn-out man. So he pressed the elec-
tric bell and walked to the hall. He met John there.
"Please show me to my room,” he said. “Mr.
Alden's asleep. Perhaps you'd better speak to his
wife before you disturb him.”
John bowed and led him upstairs.
“ Good-night, sir," he said, opening the door.
May you sleep well. It's a little hard here
lately."
He hesitated. He cleared his throat.


114
THE GRAY MASK
“You couldn't persuade him to send his wife
away ? ” he went on at last. “She's not strong, sir.
It's pitiful.”
“ See here, John," Garth said impulsively. “I
know it's against the rules, but tell me what's wrong
here. What are you all afraid of?”
The old man's lips moved. His eyes sought
Garth's urgently. With a visible effort he backed
out of the room. His glance left Garth. When
he opened his lips all he said was:
“ Good-night, sir."
Garth closed the door, shrugging his shoulders.
Of what a delicacy the threat must be to require
such scrupulous handling! "If there is anything,"
Alden had said. Garth brought his hands to-
gether.
“There is something," he muttered, “something
as dangerous as the death Alden is manufacturing
back there."
He went to bed, but the restlessness of the train
returned to him. Reviewing Alden's exhaustion and
the old servant's significant comment, he wondered
half seriously if sleep refused to enter this house.
The place, even for his splendidly controlled emo-
tions, possessed a character, depressive, unhealthy,
calmly malevolent.
He had lost account of time. He had been, per-
haps, on the frontier of sleep, for, as he sprang up-
right, he could not be all at once sure what had
aroused him. A man's groan, he thought. Sud-
denly, tearing through the darkness, came the


116
THE GRAY MASK
Again she caught his arm.
“Don't leave me alone now that they can come
in.”
She pointed at her husband.
“Look at him. He saw it in the fog that came
through the window. It is all fog out there. Don't
leave me alone."
He thrust the revolver impatiently in her hand.
“Then take this. Not much use outside on such
a night.”
He jumped to the lawn and started swiftly across.
Since the intruder had fled this way he might hear
him in the woods, might grapple with him. He re-
gretted the loss of his revolver, although he real-
ized it would be useless to-night except at close
quarters, and for that he possessed a cleverly-de-
vised reserve, which he had arranged on first join-
ing the force - a folding knife, hidden in his belt,
sharp, well-tested, deadly.
At the edge of the woods he paused, straining
his ears, trying to get his bearings, for he was on
unfamiliar ground and the fog was very dense here.
It lowered a white, translucent shroud over the
nocturnal landscape. Beneath its folds he could
make out only one or two tree trunks and a few
drooping branches. These, as he stared, gave him
the illusion of moving surreptitiously.
The moon, he knew, was at the full, but its golden
rotundity was heavily veiled to-night, so that it had
the forlorn, the sorrowful appearance of a lamp,


THROUGH THE DARK: IT
117
once brilliant, whose flame has gradually diminished
and is about to expire.
Garth could hear nothing, but he waited breath-
lessly, still straining his ears. This, he mused, was
the place where many soldiers had died in battle,
the setting for ghostly legends, the spot where the
servants had fancied a terrifying and bodiless re-
animation, the death-bed of Alden's valet.
Now that he had time to weigh it, Mrs. Alden's
manner puzzled him. She had said it had been in
the house, that now they could come in, and that out
here they were not men. Had the loneliness im-
posed upon her intelligence such a repulsive credu-
lity?
He had to admit that imagination in such a med-
ium could precipitate shameful and deceptive fancies.
Then, without realizing at first why, Garth knew
he had been unjust. He found his eyes striving to
penetrate the night to the left. Surely it was not
the old illusion of moving trees and branches that
had set the fog in lazy motion over there. He
stepped cautiously behind a pine tree. The chill in-
creased. A charnal atmosphere had crept into the
woods. As he shivered he realized that this
sepulchral place had filled with plausible inhabitants
- shapes as restless and unsubstantial as if sprung
solely from a morbid somnambulism.


CHAPTER IX
THE PHANTOM ARMY
NHADOWS advanced through the shadowy fog,
and Garth could define them as no more than
shadows. In one place the mist thinned
momentarily, and he glimpsed, apparently floating
forward, the trunk of a man's figure. Pallid tat-
ters, such as might survive in a mortuary, flapped
about bare shoulders, and from a little distance be-
yond came a sickly gleam — the doubtful response
uncertain moonlight might draw from a bayonet or
a musket barrel.
The fog closed in. There were no more shad-
ows. Garth, eager to follow, forced himself to wait.
He told himself that the march of phantoms pos-
sessed a meaning which would give direction to
his task. The unveiling of its impulse, he was con-
fident, would unveil the mystery at the house.
Against so many only caution was useful at present.
He was glad Nora was not with him. He knew
how profoundly she would have been stirred, how
ready she would have been to discard a rational ex-
planation for the occult. He could smile a little.
In this one respect of vulnerability to superstition
he felt himself immeasurably her superior. He was
glad she had not involved herself in such a case.
118


THE PHANTOM ARMY
119
Finally, phantom-like himself, he proceeded
through the fog in the direction the silent shadows
had taken. He walked for some distance.
Without warning he stumbled and pitched for-
ward to his knees. Reaching out to save himself,
his fingers touched something wet, cold, and
possessed of a revealing quality which in one breath-
less moment drove into his brain the excuse for
those at the house, and focussed for him their terror
of the unexplored world of whose adjacence their
solitude must have convinced them.
He snatched his hand back, rendered for the mo-
ment without purpose by this silent and singular
tryst to which chance had led him in the evil forest.
It was necessary, however, to strip the mask of
night from the face of the one who lay, defeated
and beyond resistance, in the path of the shadowy
army.
He took his pocket lamp from his coat and
pressed the control. The light fought through the
fog to the face of the old servant who a few hours
ago had begged him to get Mrs. Alden away, whose
lips had been incomprehensibly sealed.
Quickly he searched for the manner of death, for
there could be no coincidence about two such catas-
trophes in the same spot. In spite of the coroner's
verdict, murder was the only sensible deduction.
Yet he found no slightest souvenir of violence. The
face alone held a record of an attack — the features
were twisted as if from its vehemence, and the eyes
appeared to secrete some shocking vision.


THE PHANTOM ARMY
121
were no palate behind it, no tongue to shape its
intention.
From where he stood Garth could see Alden dis-
tinctly enough. His head was sunk forward on his
chest. His fingers clutched powerlessly at the chair
arms. His eyes appeared to have hoarded and
just now released all the strength of which his
meager body had been stripped. They flashed with
a passionate purpose which drew Garth magnetically
until he was close and had stooped and was staring
into them with a curiosity almost as pronounced
as their eagerness.
"What is it, Mr. Alden?” he asked.
The other's fingers continued to stray about the
chair arms.
“You've got to tell me what you know — all
you suspect," Garth urged “We've murder on our
hands. What do you know?".
Alden's head rose and fell affirmatively.
“Out with it."
But Alden did not answer, although his eyes
burned brighter; and Garth guessed.
“Speak, Mr. Alden," he begged.
Alden's lips moved. His throat worked. His
face set in a grotesque grimace.
“ There's danger for all of us," Garth cried.
“The time for silence has passed."
Then Alden answered, but it was only with that
helpless, futile sound — such a whimper as escapes
unintelligibly from the fancied fatality of & night-
mare.


I 22
THE GRAY MASK
Garth drew back. Now when it was too late
Alden wanted to talk. Now when he had been
robbed of the power he craved the abandonment of
words.
“Mrs. Alden," Garth whispered. “You know
your husband can't speak! Look at him!”.
About her advance there was that hypnotic qual-
ity Garth had noticed before. He read in her face,
moreover, a sympathy and a love that made it as
difficult of unmoved contemplation as the helpless
suffering in Alden's.
Alden smiled sorrowfully as his wife came close
and stooped to him. His hands ceased their stray-
ing about the chair arms. They rose with a quick
motion, an unsuspected strength, and closed about
her white and beautiful throat.
She did not cry out. Perhaps there was no time.
Her eyes closed. Her lips were wistful.
Garth tore at the man's fingers. It took all his
force to break their hold. And as he fought the
answer to a great deal came to him. Alden was
clearly insane, and his wife's fear and John's doubt
of her safety were accounted for. Yet it didn't
answer all. What was the share of the shrouded
army in the forest? What was the connection of
the death that had struck there twice?
Alden's vise-like grip was broken. Mrs. Alden
swayed against the writing-table, gasping. Alden's
whimpering had recommenced.
Garth looked from one to the other.
“Good God!” he said.
nd beautiful Perhaps thwistful. ok all his


THE PHANTOM ARMY 123
She turned on him.
“Why did you come? It is your fault.”
Garth pointed at the cabinet where the medicine
was kept. The nightmare whimpering did not
cease.
“Get him something," Garth directed. “The
doctor must have left you a narcotic.".
She walked with a pronounced lurch to the cabinet
where Garth heard her fumbling among the bottles,
but he did not turn away from Alden. The im-
becile sounds stopped, but the lips worked ineffec-
tively again. One of the hands moved slowly with
an apparent sanity of purpose. Garth realized that
it was motioning him back. Alden started to rise.
Garth saw his veins swell and the emaciated muscles
strain as he literally dragged himself out of the
chair and braced his elbows against the writing-
table. He grasped a pencil and wrote rapidly on
a piece of paper. Garth understood, and he reached
out for the sheet on which Alden had written the
words — perhaps a warning, perhaps the truth -
which his tongue had been unable to form.
There was a new quality about the voice Garth
could not deny. There was no more tinkling of
Mrs. Alden with that clear, authoritative command.
He turned warily and looked into the muzzle of
his own revolver. Mrs. Alden's outstretched hand,
he noticed, did not waver.
“ What does this mean?” he cried.


124
THE GRAY MASK
"It means," she answered in a tired voice, “that
if you read what is on that paper you'll leave me no
choice. I shall have to shoot."
Alden whimpered again. The paper fluttered to
the floor and rested, white and uncommunicative, be-
neath the table. His face set. He pointed ac-
cusingly towards the rear window.
The gesture was clear to Garth. He knew what
it meant before his eyes followed its direction. Be-
fore he had seen, he appreciated almost palpably
the new presence in the room. At the moment it
seemed inevitable to him that the tense group should
be joined by a stronger force, the inspiration, prob-
ably, of the mysteries that had posed it, and that
worked ahead, he could not doubt, to a graver is-
sue for Alden and himself
The newcomer glided from the shadows by the
window and moved to Mrs. Alden's side — huge,
powerful. The cap, drawn low over his eyes, and
the thick growth about the mouth, robbed his face
of expression and gave to his actions a mechanical
precision not lightly to be disturbed. He took the
revolver from the woman.
“I couldn't,” she said. “He hasn't read. It
won't be necessary?"
“Necessary," the man answered, “but you were
right. Not in that way. It leaves too much evi-
dence. As the others went."
“No more death," she cried. “There has been
too much death."
:


THE PHANTOM ARMY 125
“These days the world is full of death,” he an-
swered. “What are one or two here?”
The voice carried as little expression as the face
or the figure, but an accent, which Garth knew,
hindered its flow, and defined the situation with a
brutal clearness.
He turned at a slipping behind him, a heavy fall.
Alden lay on the floor, his hand stretched towards
the futile spot of white beneath the table. His wife
stumbled across and knelt beside him, restlessly fin-
gering his shoulders.
“Andrew!" she cried. “You don't understand.
Look at me. You have to understand. I love you.
Nothing changes that."
The newcomer moved to her, and, without re-
· laxing his vigilance, grasped her arm.
“There's too much to be done to-night for tears.
Keep your watch.”
He indicated Garth.
“I'll come back and attend to him later."
She continued to stare at her husband's closed
eyes.
"He knows now, but you shan't kill him. I tell
you you shan't kill him."
“When the occasion arises you will follow your
duty," he said.
He turned to Garth, pointing to the oak door in
the rear corner.
“ You will go in there."
A flashing recollection of Nora decided Garth.


126
THE GRAY MASK
Resistance now, he knew, as he studied the great
figure, would mean the end, whereas, if he waited
and obeyed, the knife, secreted in his felt, offered a
possible escape.
“Wait!" the man snapped.
He thrust the revolver in Mrs. Alden's hand while
he ran quickly over Garth's clothing. The thick-
ness of the belt escaped him. He found only the
pocket lamp.
“ The telephone is disconnected,” he said, evi-
dently to reassure the woman. “Your husband is
too weak to leave the house, and no one will come
near it until daylight. We won't cross that bridge
before we reach it." .
She shuddered.
The other opened the oak door and motioned
Garth to enter. He went through, simulating a pro-
found dejection, but actually reaching out again to
confidence. For the man would come back to visit
him with the silent, undemonstrative violence that
had done for the two men in the woods, but Garth
would be waiting for him, behind the door, with his
knife. Therefore, when the door was locked, he
commenced hopefully to examine his prison.
The night, he found after a moment, was not
complete in here. It possessed a quality, milky but
lustreless, reminiscent of the shroud through which
the shadowy figures had paraded. It retained, how-
ever, the obscurity of thorough darkness. He had
a feeling, indeed, of standing in a darkness that was
white.


THE PHANTOM ARMY
127
There must be windows over there, many win-
dows. He felt his way across. The wall, as well
as the interior face of the door, was lined with sheet
tin, suggesting immediately the nature of his prison
- a dismantled conservatory. The glazed end was
of small panes, heavily leaded. The frames in
themselves offered a resistance to escape as effica-
cious as prison bars.
The arrangement, nevertheless, gave him one ad-
vantage. A single door to guard removed the
threat of a surprise.
In the centre of the floor he found a considerable
heap of wood, probably the fittings of the place.
He scarcely dared pause to examine it. He hurried
back to his post at the doorway, removed the knife
from his belt, jointed it, and tested the point against
his finger. He didn't know how long his respite
would last. He couldn't hazard a guess as to the
nature of the big man's occupation. He could only
estimate its importance by the fact that it had pre-
vented the other's dealing summarily with him.
He had entered the case with too little light.
Nora had been right. One can not follow a
straight course through the dark. Only a few dim
outlines offered themselves for his appraisal. Mrs.
Alden had made her choice between an evident, an
exceptional affection for her husband and an enter-
prise directed by the sinister figure who had stepped
from the shadows. Of what a vast importance that
enterprise must be since it had prodded her to such
a decision, since it had made her acquiesce, however


128
THE GRAY MASK
motive to of that world-win with a pitiable
unwillingly, in murder to safeguard its progress!
She faced even the death of her own husband be-
cause he had learned too much of its intention. And
she had no slightest amorous tendency — of that
Garth was sure — towards the bearded giant to
whose will she bent her own with a pitiable humility.
The lack of that world-wide, easily comprehensible
motive to wrong, taken with the leader's German
accent, directed Garth's logic to the furnaces, which
night after night stained the sky with a scarlet,
significant of their feverish industry. Yet the
shadowy figures of the woods were still elusive, un-
less the place was used as a rendezvous and the
affair to-night approached a crisis. Could he es-
cape? Would he be in time to prevent a crime of
such proportions, of such disquieting possibilities?
He stiffened at a stealthy movement of the key
in the lock. The answer lay just ahead. Garth
could not doubt that the German was about to enter,
to annihilate in his subtle manner an enemy he be-
lieved unarmed.
With his left hand he braced himself against the
door-frame for the stroke, while with his right hand
he lifted the knife. The necessity of striking with-
out warning sickened him. He had no choice.
There was too much eager help within ear-shot of
an alarm. The stakes loomed too commandingly
to tolerate a sentimental hesitation. It was not
only his own life in the scales. The lives of those
who toiled at the furnaces swayed with his. But it
was from the recollection of Nora that he drew the


THE PHANTOM ARMY 129
most strength, from the desire to see her again; to
watch her quiet figure - a little inscrutable, uncon-
sciously provocative; to hover again on the edge of
an avowal, alert for his favorable moment.
The door hinges responded to a pressure. The
lamp had evidently been extinguished again, for he
saw in the uncertain radiance of the embers a thing,
scarcely definable as human, prone beyond the thresh-
old.
The empty doorway, the inert object on the floor,
the darkness, accented rather than diminished by the
embers, blurred his calculations. Where was the
one who had opened and for whom his knife was
eager?
Unexpectedly a brilliant light flashed in his eyes
and went out. Half-blinded, he sensed the presence
of something on the sill, and he struck downward
with all his force. He reached only emptiness.
The one on the sill had sprung through. From
somewhere in the house Garth heard the patter of
hastening feet.
He fought away the effects of the flash, striving
to locate the one who had entered. There beside
the heap of rubbish knelt a form darker than the
white darkness.
He moved noiselessly over. He reached down
and grasped the bent shoulder, and, as the shoulder
recoiled from his touch, so he recoiled from its qual-
ity that revealed the presence in his prison of a
woman.
Through his amazement he heard the door close,


130
THE GRAY MASK
but he felt sure of himself now. Mrs. Alden was
his prisoner — a hostage, if he chose, for his own
escape, unless, indeed, she had finally revolted and
come to his aid.
“Get up," he said roughly.
The woman's sigh conveyed relief. Something
scraped beneath her hand. A tiny flame was born
and entered into the base of the rubbish.
Then the woman turned slowly, and, in the light
of the fame, Garth looked into Nora's excited eyes
and smiling face.
Incredulous, he grasped her arms, lifted her to
her feet, and stared. The growing flame struck a
flash from his knife, drove into his brain a full
realization of the monstrous misunderstanding which
had nearly involved them in unspeakable disaster.
“Good God, Nora! I nearly — I tried to ".
Her smile grew.
“I didn't know what I should find in here. I
couldn't afford to take chances."
“But I left you in New York," he went on un-
certainly. “How did you come? Why are you
here?"
“No time for explanations now," she answered
quickly. “We must get out of here."
He recalled the patter of hastening feet, the soft
closing of the door. In the growing light he saw
its tin-sheeted face flush with the wall.
“The door has been shut," he said. “I'm afraid
- locked. Why did you light that fire?”
She ran across, grasped the knob, then commenced


THE PHANTOM ARMY
131
to beat with her fists at the tin. Suddenly she
stopped. Her shoulders drooped.
“No use," she whispered. “She must have come
in. She won't open now.”
Garth hurried to her side.
"I don't understand," he said, “but it's evident
we are caught here, and that fire has been fixed -
a signal?"
She nodded.
“Why did you light it?"
“Because," she answered dully, “it had to burn
to-night.”
The crisis they faced was clear to him.
“Nora! In a minute this room will be a fur.
nace."
He imagined from the excitement still flashing
in her eyes that she did not quite realize, but she
spoke without regret, and her words carried the
shocking fatality of the German's.
“I'm sorry, Jim, but if I had known we would
be caught I would have lighted it just the same.
After all, a small price in the long run — only the
two of us."
He brushed the rapid perspiration from his face.
The fire had reached the heart of the pile. The air
thickened with a reddish, pungent smoke. He
choked.
"I'm sorry, Jim. I came only to help you, but I
found -"
The vapour cut her voice.
The sentimental possibilities of their predicament


132
THE GRAY MASK
came with a gentle wonder to Garth. They over-
weighed the danger, robbed him for the moment of
full comprehension. This clearly was his moment,
and whatever the next might bring seemed a fair
exchange for her probable response. He reached
blindly towards her through the smoke.
“Nora!”
His heart leapt as she swayed a little. Then he
heard the grating of the key in the lock. It im-
pressed him as curious that the saving sound carried
to him a sense of disappointment, the emptiness of a
destiny unfulfilled.
Nora turned the knob. He pushed against the
door. They stumbled into the next room, breath-
ing deeply the fresh, clean air.
Alden's prostrate form lay just within. His wife
stood across the room by the hall door, the revolver
held listlessly in her hand. Her hair, more than
ever disordered, fell about her weary eyes, and gave
her face an air of ironical witchery.
Garth caught the meaning of the tableau. He
glanced with admiration at the sick man, appreciat-
ing the bitter obstacle he had overcome, the ab-
horrent chance he had taken after conquering his
physical incapacity and reaching the door. The re-
sult, Garth noticed, had carried to Alden a vast
relief, a shadow of content. The light from the
conservatory flickered about his face, exposing an
expression of pride. The silent lips moved as if
to frame a boast.


THE PHANTOM ARMY
133
“So, Mrs. Alden," Garth said, “you left him
again. To warn the others ?"
She did not answer. He shrugged his shoulders.
“Anyway," he went on, “when you came back
and found him at the key you didn't have time to
get to him, and you weren't quite as bad as you
should have been. You let him unlock the door.
You didn't have the nerve to shoot — your hus-
band.”
“Don't, Jim," Nora war. ed. “You don't under-
stand.”
Frankly he didn't, but he knew that Mrs. Alden,
in a sense, still controlled the situation. Her re-
volver could compel their movements. Its explosion
would doubtless bring help swarming to her side.
“And you see," Nora went on, speaking to her
gently, “what a useless sacrifice it would have been.
Everything was finished for you the moment I lighted
the beacon."
Mrs. Alden nodded.
Garth grinned as the protective feminine instinct
expressed itself through this woman in her most
intricate hour.
" It was all arranged," she said. “If you will
close that door the house will be safe enough from
the fire."
She indicated her husband. There were tears in
her eyes again.
“ You will take care of him?"
“Yes," Nora said.


136
THE GRAY MASK
had been systematically drugged for days. After
reconnecting the telephone and notifying the federal
authorities he had returned to the living-room.
Nora arose, and, with her finger at her lips, joined
him by the fireplace.
“He's asleep," she said. “You know, Jim,
there wasn't much point in your telephoning.
They've destroyed the evidence. They've gone."
She sat down. Garth drew a chair close to her.
Their voices were low in order that Alden might
not be disturbed.
“ Was it near?” he asked. “The fact that they
took the launch — yet they might put in at some
lonely cove and scatter."
" It must have been expected soon," she answered.
“They were working desperately. They were very
anxious tonight."
“You must have guessed, Nora, as soon as I left
New York. How?".
“By giving father a scolding,” she answered with
a smile. “I knew that Mrs. Alden had been born
in Berlin, and that her family was still prominent
there where Mr. Alden had married her. Even
since her marriage she's spent much time abroad. I
wondered what these shadowy figures were doing
in the woods on foggy nights unless they were trans-
porting something or working about some building.
But Mr. Alden would know if it had anything to do
with the house or the stable. Since he was sick,
the boat-house might be their objective without his
knowing it. I suspected the truth then. Such an


THE PHANTOM ARMY,
137
opportunity! No one would doubt the property of
a man who manufactured ammunition for the gov-
ernment. The natural thought was that any at-
tempts by Germans here would be directed against
the furnaces or Alden personally. It was ideal.
All that was necessary was to scare the servants
away and keep Alden in the house while his wife
and the rest made ready for it.”
“ Still those men in the woods?" Garth asked.
“They were probably working at the furnaces.
When you saw them they were on their way to the
boat-house to make the necessary alterations. And,
of course, they carried all the supplies there. You
see, I went to the freight agent of the only railroad
that runs to Deacon's Bay. He helped me a lot.
We found that a large number of heavy cases had
been sent here and to nearby stations, falsely in-
voiced and labelled to be called for. He had sus-
pected gasolene in one of them and was about to hold
up further shipments. That settled it for me. I
knew you were going blindly, so I took the next
train."
“How did you learn about the signal?” he
asked.
"I came very quietly," she answered, “a little
like a sneak-thief, I'm afraid. That front window
is a little open. I overheard Mrs. Alden and a
huge man. Of course she was only to light that
signal if the game was wholly up. It meant to
them that there was a party big enough to handle
the lot of them. So I made up my mind I must



THE PHANTOM ARMY
139
of farewell, a welcome if she should come back.
Perhaps she will some day.”
Such devotion stirred anew in Garth the sensa-
tions he had experienced in the conservatory. He
watched Nora as her fingers moved with their ac-
customed deftness about her knitting. She made
the old picture, lovable and tempting, of quiet, house-
wifely efficiency.
“You always knit," he said in an uncertain voice.
“Another winter is very close," she answered
gravely," and if the peace should be delayed there.
would be so much suffering —".
He stretched out his hand.
“Nora," he said huskily, "you've saved my life
to-night. It's yours. What will you do with it?"
She glanced up. She smiled a little.
“You very nearly took mine, Jim, so aren't we
quits ? "


CHAPTER X
THE COINS AND THE CHINAMAN
N their way to the station, and during their
long journey to New York, Nora drew back
from any attempt of Garth's in the direction
of sentiment. Frequently he stared at her with a
whimsical despair. It was clear enough that he was
not distasteful to her. He fancied, moreover, that
he had through his very persistence softened per-
ceptibly the girl's regret for Kridel; had remodeled
to an extent her earlier attitude of a widow. Would
he, however, he asked himself, be able to go the
whole way?
Now she wished to talk of trivial things, to make
a lark of their luncheon in Boston, to get as far
away as she could from the dangerous and uncertain
profession which had taken Kridel from her, and
which might, even before she could resolve her own
feelings, involve Garth in some fatal accident.
Once he recurred to the gray mask, and spoke of
Slim and George, whose trial would soon begin.
She trembled slightly, he thought. She wouldn't
let him go on. Her fear, he was certain, was not
for herself. That much encouraged. Yet this
rivalry with one who had been for some time dead
140


THE COINS AND THE CHINAMAN 141
often brought him a sensation of complete help-
lessness; for Nora was not one to pose. She was
honest with herself, with Garth, with the dead man.
Perhaps some grave sacrifice would resolve her
doubts. He felt himself capable of that. He fell
into her mood at last, and found the journey home
too short. In retrospect it assumed an increased
value. During a long period he saw practically
nothing of Nora.
For a month or more he found no comfort in
his work. Headquarters, he remarked many times,
was a rest cure for anybody who wanted one.
All at once that altered, as such things happen,
without warning. He had spent an hour or so on
an unimpressive case, and it was nearly midnight
when he turned south from the frontier of Harlem.
From time to time a light snow fell, and always
there was a vaporous quality about the cold night
air which added to the waywardness of his unex-
pected experience.
He walked for a long time, scarcely aware of
the landmarks of the neighbourhood, rehearsing
thoughts which, these last few weeks, had grown
familiar and unpalatable. Now, as always, they
failed to guide him to any explanation of Nora's
abrupt abandonment of her routine. His recent
visits at the flat had thrown him into the hospitable
hands of the inspector, who, however, had main-
tained an incomprehensible silence as to his daugh-
ter's whereabouts. Garth could read in this atti-
tude no antagonism to his own ambitions. He was


142
THE GRAY MASK
confident that the result of his campaign for Nora's
heart depended wholly on the girl herself.
He realized it was growing late. Absent-mind-
edly he turned into a side street, intending to reach
Third Avenue and climb the steps of the nearest
elevated station.
It was the discreet murmuring of a motor that
routed finally his preoccupation. A limousine of an
extravagant type had halted close to the curb at the
end of the block. It pointed a contrast which stirred
the detective's curiosity. The street, he noticed
now, in common with many this far up-town, was
inadequately lighted, but, in spite of the veils placed
by the snow and the haze over the few gas lamps,
a glance informed him that fashion had not invaded
this far. The buildings, with high stoops and
sunken areaways, were of a depressing, tasteless
similarity -- doubtless cheap boarding-houses or
dreary converted apartments. He wondered what
such an automobile did here, unless, perhaps, the
chauffeur, alone, had some object. But he saw that,
while the chauffeur retained his seat, the door was
opened from the inside and a tall man, in a high
hat and a fur coat, which exposed an evening shirt,
stepped with nervous haste to the sidewalk.
Garth slackened his pace. He kept to the shad-
ows near the house line. He watched with increas-
ing interest while the man crossed the pavement,
and, instead of climbing the steps, stooped to place
an object on the ground. He saw him rise then
and take something from his pocket which he tossed


THE COINS AND THE CHINAMAN 143
in the air. He was not surprised when the man
failed to catch it. He heard it, whatever it was,
strike the sidewalk, clicking metallically.
The man dropped to his knees and with wide
gestures searched the flagging and the gutter.
After a moment the chauffeur exclaimed - angrily,
Garth fancied - then descended from his seat and
joined the hunt.
Garth, speculating on this unconventional per-
formance, stepped casually into an areaway, as if,
indeed, it was his destination. From this shelter
he observed the outcome.
The chauffeur picked up something which he thrust
into the other's hand. After glancing quickly
around he sprang to his seat while the man in evening
clothes straightened, returned to the limousine, and
closed the door. The car rolled almost silently up
the street.
What, Garth questioned, had been left with such
care on the sidewalk in front of the corner house?
What object, probably similar, had occasioned the
search?
When the car was nearly opposite him the man
inside tapped on the pane. On a subdued note the
chauffeur exclaimed again, then pulled the car to the
curb and stopped it.
Once more the well-dressed man left the limousine
and crossed the sidewalk. For the second time he
bent and placed something carefully on the ground.
It lay within Garth's reach, but just outside his line
of vision. In fact, Garth could have grasped the


144
THE GRAY MASK
other, so close was he; and he could see, in spite of
the inefficient light, that he was young and probably
good-looking. His inspection, however, was lim-
ited, for the other arose, breathing harshly, as if he
were labouring under an unfamiliar excitement, and
returned to the car.
As the driver set his gears and let the clutch in
Garth reached through the areaway railing and
fumbled about the sidewalk for the object. His
fingers found it - round, flat, hard -- not at all
puzzling in itself, yet completely unintelligible as a
clue to the young man's motive in placing it there.
It was a piece of money.
Garth slipped from the areaway. He held his
find up to the nearest lamp. The piece of money
was a five dollar gold piece. He glanced along the
street. The automobile had just swung from sight.
He started quickly after it, because it had occurred
to him that if such a performance were repeated in
Park Avenue, his curiosity would make him stop
the machine, would suggest a number of questions
to the young man in the fur coat, would seek an
explanation of the chauffeur's furtive impatience. .
When he turned the corner he was not surprised
to find the limousine halted again, to see the young
man returning from a third excursion to the house
line where, doubtless, he had with an extreme anxiety
placed another piece of money.
Garth broke into a run. The chauffeur glanced
over his shoulder and muttered quickly to the man,
who sprang in. As soon as the door was closed


THE COINS AND THE CHINAMAN 145
the car started with a speed almost affirmative of
flight.
Garth held up his hand with the gold piece and
shouted. The car went faster. He hastened to
read the license number on its rear. As he wrote
it in his pocket book he watched the red of the tail
light diminish and disappear.
He walked over and picked up a twenty-five cent
piece. Why then had the young man left five dol-
lars around the corner? He stared at the two coins,
his bewilderment growing. What could be the ex-
planation of this trail of money, left with a scrupu-
lous care on New York pavements ? Of what ab-
normal diligence could such an eccentricity be an
echo? How pronounced was its significance ?
Almost certainly another coin lay close to Lex-
ington Avenue where the car had first stopped. It
was not probable that a third exhibit would reflect
any light on the affair, still he wanted to learn the
denomination of that coin, and evidently it was the
final goal of his curiosity to-night.
As soon as he turned the corner he saw that he
would be too late. The discovery heightened his
interest. Breathlessly, he slipped into an areaway
and watched.
A singularly small figure of a man shuffled across
Lexington Avenue and, as if with an assured purpose,
made for the corner stoop. The arc light down
there, while it emphasized few details, sharpened
'Garth's wonder at the size and shape of the new-
comer. He was inclined to explain him as a small
coin, a night. he


146
THE GRAY MASK
boy, masquerading in mature clothing. Yet there
was about the shoulders a thickness and a curve
which did not belong to youth. The face was con-
cealed by the turned-up collar of a diminutive over.
coat and by a felt hat, drawn low over the eyes.
Even at a distance the figure projected an air of
the lawless and sinister.
The man bent and picked up the coin. After-
wards he continued towards Garth, not, however,
in a straight line. He shufiled stealthily, his feet
scarcely leaving the ground, in a series of zig-zags
across the sidewalk. And always his shoulders re-
mained bowed, the eyes lowered, as if he examined
with a vital solicitude every inch of his path.
It was obvious to Garth that there was some con-
nection between the young man in the limousine and
this stunted, clandestine figure who followed his
trail with such anxious vigilance. Therefore he felt
justified in setting a small trap. If its issue involved
him in a mistake a laugh would extricate him. But
he foresaw no mistake. The deformed thing ap-
proaching was not to be explained as a peaceful,
if tipsy, citizen, bound for home. So he placed the
five dollar gold piece just outside the railing. He
removed his gloves. He took his pocket lamp from
his coat and held it ready. If the other saw the
money and tried to pick it up he would be quite at
the mercy of Garth's lamp and hands.
That would happen, for the man had evidently
caught the pallid gleaming of the gold. Without
increasing his pace he shuffled across and stooped,


THE COINS AND THE CHINAMAN 147
stretching out his hand. Up to this point the other's
activity had worn an established air. Garth pro-
ceeded to rout its complacence. He reached through
the railing, and as the hand was about to close over
the money grasped it with all his strength.
He had been prepared for fright, for a struggle,
but scarcely for the shrill, animal cry that greeted
his surprise, nor for the violent and unnatural
strength that quivered through the little body as it
tried to break away.
And at first Garth combatted a quick impulse to
let go. The quality of the bare hand in his own
revolted him. The fingers were long, slender, and
hard. The skin was dry. It gave him an impres-
sion that there was no flesh between it and the bones
it covered.
“Steady, my friend,” he muttered. “That's my
money in your claw. Let's have a look at you."
The other's squirming increased. The scream
was not repeated. Only a difficult, sobbing sound
came recurrently from the man's throat.
At last Garth managed to twist the small wrist
so that practically he controlled the fellow's move-
ments. Then he pressed the button of his lamp.
The light shone mercilessly upon an abhorrent
face.
The skin was yellow, and tight, like parchment,
across the high cheek bones. The tiny eyes lay far
back in rounded sockets. In the lamplight they were
deceptively reminiscent of the eyes of a cat. But it
was on the head, from which the hat had fallen,


148
THE GRAY MASK
adoperly snake linse it was then forbidden sh
that Garth's glance lingered with the most distaste.
A queue was curled about it. It gave the last touch
to the fantasy of the snow, the mist, the deserted
street of old houses — a fitting setting for the
night's yagaries.
For him the coil of hair gleamed like a serpent,
carefully poised and awaiting the most favorable
moment for its stroke. As the yellow head moved
spasmodically the coil appeared to writhe. It pro-
voked Garth's imagination. With quiet eloquence
it symbolized a vicious conservatism, publicly dead.
It suggested secret ceremonials in forbidden shrines.
In a broader sense it was the outward survival,
properly snake-like, of unconquerable and scarcely
apprehended customs.
Garth shuddered. He found it more difficult than
before to cling to that bony hand. He arose,
snapped off the light, and grasped the Oriental by
the shoulder.
“How did you know you'd find this money on
the sidewalk ? " he asked.
The other shivered, as if for the first time the
cold had reached him.
“Talk up,” Garth ordered. “Who's the fash-
ion-plate that left it?”
The Chinaman made a last effort to escape.
Garth subdued him.
“No talk-ee, eh? All right, little one. Then
you'll have a nice free ride downtown — just as a
suspicious character."
For a possibility had occurred to him from which


THE COINS AND THE CHINAMAN 149
he shrank. Still, since it existed, it dictated a clear
enough duty. He stepped from the areaway.
“Hustle along, sonny."
The other exploded into a torrent of Chinese.
Garth understood not a word, yet the shrill voice,
rising and falling, cried to him a fear and a despair
that were tragic.
“Bluff away,” he muttered, “ 'though I don't see
what good it will do you. Plenty of interpreters
at headquarters. Point is, are you coming peace-
ably, or will I have to wake up a patrolman to get
a wagon?"
The Chinaman was on the point of collapse.
Garth practically carried him to the corner. He
experienced a feeling of remorse, which, however,
vanished before the recollection of the queue, glisten-
ing, serpent-like.
He was relieved to turn his man over at head-
quarters. He saw him placed in an empty detention
cell.
“Sleep tight," he called as the key turned.
“Maybe you'll learn English by morning."
His own sleep was untroubled, save by his per-
sistent uneasiness about Nora.
As soon as he was up the next morning he tele-
phoned the Bureau of Licenses and apparently ran
his one clue into a dead wall. The limousine, he
found, belonged to Thomas Black, a young man of
more than ordinary wealth and position. Garth
flushed uncomfortably. He began to suspect that
he had been guilty of an indiscretion, for Black,


150
THE GRAY MASK
some years ago, had married the sister of Rufus
Manford, whose recent selection as head of the
Society for Social Justice had set in motion a cum-
bersome amount of self-satisfied and unusually ill-
designed activity against crime. Still Garth knew
that Manford was working with the inspector now
on some urgent cases about which little was said
at headquarters. It was possible, then, that the
trail of coins had been arranged by Manford in
the society's office for a purpose which his inter-
ference might have destroyed.
But the growing day diminished the importance of
the whole adventure. That returned to it only
when the telephone summoned him as he was about
to leave his rooms.
“Hello!” he called.
The voice that answered was gruff, disapproving,
almost reproachful, he would have said.
“ It's Ed, at headquarters. Say, you've got me
in bad. Hustle on down. Inspector's on his ear
and wants you."
“What's up, Ed?"
“That pigtail of yours. Can't make out the
chief. Might be a member of his own family.”
“ What are you driving at, Ed? What's the
matter with the pigtail ?”
“Dead -- that's all.”
“Dead!" Garth echoed.
“Yup. Must have done it right after you left.
Choked himself to heaven with his bloomin' queue.
Now if he'd had it cut off proper - "


CHAPTER XI
NORA DISAPPEARS IN AN EMPTY HOUSE
OR the first time Garth entered the inspector's
office with the discomfort of a culprit. Yet
he could not accuse himself justly of blunder-
ing. Nevertheless the brief telephone conversation
with the doorman had informed him that the in-
spector attached an uncommon importance to the
chance capture of the Chinaman. Because of it he
would place the blame for the suicide where it fell
most conveniently.
When he opened the door he appreciated that
there was more than that out of the way at head-
quarters this morning. A woman bent, ancient,
poor, sat in a chair to the right of the inspector's
desk. He could hazard no more concerning her,
because of an intricately-patterned shawl which was
draped over her head and nearly covered her face.
Her presence was less astonishing than her bearing
in this room, terrible alike to wrong-doers and to
the reluctant witnesses of crime. Her attitude, in-
deed, was expectant. Her lack of distrust impressed
him as aggressive. Moreover, its customary rumble
had left the inspector's voice which had flowed,
Garth had remarked, with a conciliatory blandness.
151


152
THE GRAY MASK
It paused shortly as Garth entered. The huge
man turned slowly in his chair. His eyes, somnolent
as a rule, fixed Garth with a lively reproach.
"Shut the door," he grumbled.
Garth obeyed.
“Here's a pretty mess! Why did you bring him
in at all?"
“The chink?" Garth asked mildly.
"No," the inspector roared. “Queen Lillioku-
lani! Who do you suppose I mean? How many
mugs have you brought in since I saw you last?
Maybe you thought the big Chinese population was
unhealthy."
“I never dreamed he'd do that,” Garth protected
himself.
“Why didn't you warn the boys to keep an eye
on him?” the inspector demanded.
Garth threw up his hands.
“How could I tell? I only brought him in on a
chance. I knew you were after the funny medicine
crowd. He was up to some queer business last night,
and I thought he looked the type."
“Yes," the inspector agreed drily," he certainly
looked the type, so much so that I'd gamble that
wizzened brain of his held all I want to know."
He seized a paper weight and commenced to toss
it ponderously from fist to fist.
“That's what you've let get away from you.
Maybe you'll be accommodating enough to tell me
how you happened to pick him up.".
Garth glanced questioningly at the woman.


154
THE GRAY MASK
tered Garth's revolt, and her eyes, now that they
were no longer concealed, seemed to have rebuked
the inspector to a milder humour.
“ Understand," he said, “Nora doesn't tell me
any too much how she's working, and she's been
at this off and on for a long time. It's only the
last two weeks that it's gotten serious. She had to
see me to-day. That's why I'm on my ear about the
Chinaman. He might have saved her a good deal.
You see, she's working on that case.".
Garth's heart sank.
“Dope!” he cried. “It isn't safe. I tell you
she's fighting desperate people, inspector. Look at
that Chinaman, whether he's mixed up with the
traffic or not, if a brute like him suspected her!”
The inspector returned to his chair. He waved
his hands helplessly.
. “Talk to Nora. I've told her all that. Once
or twice I've wanted her to use her brain in cases
where there wasn't any risk. Nothing doing.
When this rotten business came up she would go
into it on her own hook. I guess that's because
she knows Manford and his high-brow, meddling
society have got the district attorney behind them,
and they've put it up to me hard."
Nora shook her head, smiling a trifle wistfully.
“No, father, I did it to save souls and bodies.
You see, Jim, they can handle the little fellows
under the new laws, but everybody knows there's
this one place up-town, marvelously hidden and
guarded - a distributing center, the heart of the


NORA DISAPPEARS 155
whole surviving drug traffic. When I found out
from father that everybody else had failed I just
had to try. My conscience kept at me. Success
would turn so much misery into happiness, so much
sickness into health, so much crime into usefulness.
And to-night, I believe, if we're lucky — Jim! I
want you to be there."
“She thinks she's spotted the house," the inspec-
tor said softly. “That's what she had to see me
about. She wants a raid arranged for to-night.”
Garth's voice was anxious.
“How are you working, Nora? I don't like it.
I wish you were out of it."
But Nora would tell him nothing, and he realized
instinctively that in her crusade she had taken des-
perate chances and would face more, probably the
worst, to-night.
“You must tell us,” she said, “how you found
the Chinaman. I've no doubt he was one of them,
In itself his death was a confession - a pitifully
silent one."
Garth told his story of the man in the limousine,
of the trailing Oriental, of what he had learned
at the Bureau of Licenses. Nora offered no inter-
pretation, but she smiled sympathetically at the in-
spector's rage. He saw in the affair more than
Garth. To him it meant an underhanded attempt
on the part of the society to trap a material witness.
“They put it up to me,” he grumbled, " then they
want to put it over me. Manford gets a line of his
own and keeps it to himself. Out for a little glory.


156
THE GRAY MASK
and advertising! What happens every time I work
with these silk-stockinged, fur-coated societies that
think they know more about vice than the police.
And to think, Garth, you snitched him away from
them, then let him croak!”.
Nora arose.
“No use crying over spilt milk, father."
She prepared to leave. Garth followed her to the
hallway. He urged her to let him share her plans,
to give him a more pronounced part in the risks.
She shook her head.
“It's best to let me work this alone until the last
minute, Jim.”
His one grain of comfort was her insistence that
he should be in the van of the raiding party. So
he watched her leave, her grace and beauty trans-
formed by an inspired ingenuity into the bent lines
and the haggard distortion of a crone.
The day lingered interminably. Whatever Nora
had told her father he guarded with an unqualified
stubbornness. Aside from the fact that he was to
join the inspector in an up-town precinct house at
ten o'clock, Garth walked into the affair wholly ig-
norant of plans or probabilities.
When finally the hour struck and he kept the ap-
pointment, he found Manford, in evening clothes,
leaning against the desk while he tested the inspec-
tor's temper with a smiling face and an insinuating
conversation.
Garth had never before seen this amateur in social
justice. His first glance furnished him a share in the


NORA DISAPPEARS
157
сапсе.
inspector's resentment, for clearly Manford's illu-
sions as to his importance were all of a happy char-
acter. His moustache, arranged with a studied pre-
cision, his ruddy complexion, his eyes, noticeably
sarcastic, testified to measureless pride in a success
which, Garth knew, had arisen almost of its own
power from his inheritance. It was not to be
doubted that his selection as its head had given the
society in his eyes a majestic and peculiar value.
The fact that the inspector failed to counter im-
pressed Garth. Probably it would be a sufficient
revenge for him to accomplish the raid and smash
the gang with Manford as a witness, yet without
his active assistance.
A number of detectives and some men in uniform
were grouped about the two. The inspector's com-
mands were brief and delivered with an excited
anticipation which he could not conceal. At last he
announced the number of the house. It was in the
centre of the block east of that in which Garth
had captured the Chinaman. Some of the men were
to reach the back yard. Others were to guard the
roof. The remainder would form the attacking
party at the front.
“When these people find they can't get through,"
the inspector warned, “it's a good bet they'll show
fight. So look out for yourselves, and impress on
them that your guns aren't watch charms."
Garth, Manford, and the inspector led the way.
Garth's misgivings were far more profound than if
the chief risk had been his own. Where was Nora


158
THE GRAY MASK
now? What would such conscienceless men do to
her if they found at the last moment she was re-
sponsible for their hopeless predicament?
They walked slowly to give the others time to
reach their posts. At last the inspector glanced at
his watch, snapped it shut, and quickened his pace.
“Come on, boys,” he muttered. “The season's
open.”
The house presented an uncommunicative front.
They climbed the steps. No lights showed in the
hall. The windows appeared to be shuttered. The
inspector pulled the old-fashioned bell handle.
After an undisturbed wait he tried again.
“Guess we haven't got the combination, Chief,"
Garth whispered.
“No time for experiments," the inspector said.
He put his shoulder to the door.
“Give a hand here, boys. Bring that ax."
The lock snapped under their assault. They
stumbled through into the vestibule. Garth choked.
He was aware of fine particles of dust in his nose
and his throat. The inspector had been similarly
affected.
“Filthy lot!” he sneered. “One more door."
They attacked the inner door. They burst
through into a black hallway. The dust rose in
clouds. The inspector snapped his flashlight and
fell back with an exclamation, disappointed and sur-
prised.
The light shone on bare floors and walls. Its
power was radically diminished by the long accumu-


NORA DISAPPEARS
159
lated dust their entrance had disturbed. As far as
the first floor was concerned they stood in an empty
housiantore plan
ute. When you've lughed.
dislike in the initive,
Manford sneered.
“A fine plant of yours, inspector ! "
The inspector glared his dislike.
“I'm beginning to think you were jealous a min.
ute ago, young man.”
“Then you've quite disarmed my unworthy emo-
tion,” Manford laughed.
Garth had read more than dislike in the inspec-
tor's manner. It had veiled, he was sure, a positive,
an increasing fear; and the scorn of his voice had
not thoroughly cloaked its uncertainty.
“Get up stairs," he snarled to his men. “Scour
every inch of this place.”
He turned back to Manford.
“I'll swear they were here this afternoon. This
house was used as a dive no later than this after-
noon."
Manford chuckled, indicating the dust which still
whirled in the rays of the flash light.
The plain-clothes men returned almost at once.
There was not a person in the house - not a piece
of furniture. The grime on the walls, the thick
dust testified to its long disuse.
Manford's superior wisdom appeared justified.
The intolerance of a position and a success, both in-
herited, shone in his eyes, expressed itself in his
voice. He drew his coat closer about him. He
touched his hat. It assumed a jauntier air.


160
THE GRAY MASK
“Good night, inspector,” he drawled. “I cut
the opera to take in this example of police efficiency.
I hope my society, on its own initiative, will be able
to make more progress with the case. Maybe I'll
find some amusement chatting with the lieutenant at
the station house. At least I can learn from the
police what sins to omit.”
The inspector strangely, did not answer. Man-
ford lighted a cigarette, grinning, and strolled down
the steps.
Garth marvelled at the inspector's lack of bel-
ligerency. He looked at him more closely. The
big man's jaw had fallen. He stared without pur-
pose at the blank walls. The picture made Garth
afraid. He grasped the inspector's arm. He drew
him to one side.
“How were you so sure?” he asked under his
breath. “Because Nora gave you this number?”
The inspector shook his head. His great shoul-
ders trembled.
“No. She had no number to give me. But this
afternoon I saw her enter this house. I watched
the door close behind her, and, Garth — she has
never come out."
Garth with frantic haste explored the place him-
self from roof to cellar. There was no question.
It had remained uninhabited for many months, per-
haps years. Yet Nora had told her father that,
while its location had been kept from her, she had
arranged a certain entry to the evil house that after-


NORA DISAPPEARS
161
noon. She had told him to follow her. He had
seen the door close behind her.
Garth scarcely dared open his mind to full com-
prehension. If Nora had been directed to this
deserted building and admitted, it was clear that
her connection with the police had been discovered.
It was logically certain that she had walked into
an elaborately plotted ambush.
He hurried to the sidewalk where he found the
inspector braced heavily against the rail.
“What can I do, Garth?” the big man asked
hoarsely.
What to do, indeed! Garth thrust his hands in
his pockets. He stared helplessly up the street.
His glance rested on the corner house of the next
block where last night the man in the fur coat had
left the first coin. Suddenly his breath sharpened.
His mind, planning blindly, paused, drew back, dared
again to face the single chance that had risen from
the shadows of the corner house.
He wet his lips. He touched the inspector's
shoulder. He understood that on a bare possibility
he would place his entire career in the scales. Since,
however, it balanced Nora's rescue from such un-
speakable hands, he did not hesitate.
“ Chief,” he whispered, “take your men back to
the station house and keep them ready. I'll tele-
phone you there in a few minutes, fifteen or twenty
at the outside."
“What are you going to do, Garth?”
“Take one chance to get Nora back,” he answered


162
THE GRAY MASK
quickly, "probably say good-bye to New York. It
was something I thought of last night. It seemed
common sense to forget it this morning. Now I'm
going to make sure. No time to talk."


CHAPTER XII
THE HIDDEN DOOR
Eran swiftly west, past the house on the
corner, past the areaway where he had
secreted himself last night, into Park Ave-
nue, always on the course taken by the limousine.
And, when he came to Black's number, he saw the
limousine drawn up, waiting. In the upper story
of the small but expensive house lights burned. He
pressed the electric button, sighing his relief. He
was grimly determined to see the thing through.
His resolution was stimulated by his memory of the
queue, coiled like a serpent, watching to strike with
fangs bearing the poison of degradation and death.
Nora stood within reach of that, perhaps, was al-
ready its victim. So when the door was opened
by a sleek serving-man, he did not hesitate.
“I must see Mr. Black.”
The servant displayed a mild astonishment at his
tone.
“I'm sorry, sir. Mr. Black is not at home.”
The lights he had noticed upstairs and the lim-
ousine gave Garth confidence.
“Mr. Black,” he said, “is the brother-in-law of
the president of the Society for Social Justice."
The servant nodded.
163


164
THE GRAY MASK
“Then he will see me."
The other was shocked.
“Really, sir —"
Garth gave him a glimpse of his badge, pushed
past, and entered the reception hall. The servant
turned, staring at him with insolent eyes.
“You'll have to get out of here Mr. Black has
no official connection with the society. What do
you mean by forcing -"
Garth called :
"Mr. Black! Mr. Black!"
The servant tried to catch his arm.
“This is outrageous.”
“ Mr. Black!” Garth called again.
And the response he had prayed for, the response
he had made up his mind to force at all hazards,
came quavering from the upper floor.
“Who is that? What's all this row, Arnold?”
Garth sprang up the stairs, eager and relieved at
the quality of the voice. The young man of the
limousine stood at the head, bending anxiously over,
backed against the railing, as if to repel an assault.
" I'm sorry, Mr. Black," Garth said hurriedly.
“I have to speak to you about something too im-
portant for delay."
He paused, embarrassed, reluctant to go on, for in
the brightly lighted doorway of the living-room a
woman had appeared, small, with an extraordinary
grace of figure, and a face which, in a trivial, light-
hearted way, impressed him as rarely beautiful. She
wore evening dress. A wrap was draped across


THE HIDDEN DOOR
165
her arm. Her resemblance to Manford established
her identity beyond debate. She glanced at Garth
with an ainused curiosity quite at variance with her
husband's emotion. She smiled tolerantly.
“Quite like a bearer of evil tidings in a play, but
even they don't come upstairs, unannounced.'
“I'm sorry, Mrs. Black," Garth said apologetic-
ally. “Your man drew the long bow. I couldn't
be put off.”
But the smiling, graceful figure was a defence,
almost incontestable. Nothing short of Nora's
danger could have armed him to overcome it. He
would, however, spare Black's wife as far as possible.
“I wanted to speak to you, Mr. Black, privately."
He turned back to the woman.
“You see I come from your brother, the head of
the Society for Social Justice.”
“What can he want at this time of night?" she
said.
She advanced to the head of the staircase.
“ It makes no difference, John. You weren't com-
ing anyway. I'll tell Aunt Sarah why — business !"
She laughed lightly and passed on down the stairs.
Garth breathed more freely. He waited until the
front door had slammed, until he had heard the
motor whir, until he was sure she was started for
her reception or dance, unsuspecting the desolation
he had brought into her home. Then he swung
on Black.
“Come in here."
He indicated the living-room.


166
THE GRAY MASK
Black followed with uncertain steps. The light
shone on his sallow face out of which heavy eyes
looked distrustfully.
“What do you want?” he asked. “What does
Manford want?”.
“Don't trouble to sit down, Mr. Black," Garth
directed. “ I've little time just enough to tell
you that I'm on to you."
Black with an odd, halting motion reached the
centre table. His fingers shaking, he lifted a ciga-
rette from a silver box and essayed to strike a match.
The wood splintered. He fumbled aimlessly about
the table. He took the unlighted cigarette from
his mouth. He stammered.
“Wh - what the devil do you mean?"
“No use bluffing,” Garth said. “You give your-
self away. But don't get too scared. I'm the only
one who knows."
The other's voice was scarcely audible.
“Who are you?”
Garth threw back his coat lapel, displaying mo-
mentarily his badge.
Black's voice rose on a shrill note.
“It's a lie! It's a lie!”
Garth shook his head.
“I watched you last night,” he said, “planting
money here and there — a pretty, generous fancy,
just to give people the joy of finding it. Men don't
do such things in their right senses. I've heard of
it, but the fact that you were the brother-in-law of
the head of an organization that was after these


168
THE GRAY MASK
I promise to do all I can to keep you out of the
scandal. I'll get you away clean if it can be done.
All I ask is, that for your wife's sake, you'll try to
be a man. But now you listen. By gad, if you
refuse to do this thing, I'll raise a scandal that will
finish you once for all I'll shout the thing from
the housetops. I'll take you to a cell within the
next ten minutes. What about your wife then?
Look at me. I'm not bluffing. I hate it, but I've
no choice. It's life and death to me, and, since it's
all I've got, I'm going to use your reputation to
make it life.”
Black sank into a chair, covering his face.
“You do mean it. I can't do it. I tell you I
can't do it.”
Garth stood over the man. As he fought, there
came back to him with an advocacy not to be denied,
the memory of Nora's altered face, out of which,
however, her eyes, unalterable, had glanced at him
with a definite appeal
“Yes you can," he said savagely. “They'll let
you vouch for a — friend. And if you don't, you'll
give the game away to a jury and a crowded court-
room.”
Black's hands dropped. He stared straight
ahead. He did not answer.
Garth reached out and grasped the telephone.
Black stumbled to his feet and tore at Garth's arm.
“What are you going to do?"
“Call for a patrol wagon to drive up to your
exalted home."


THE HIDDEN DOOR
169
“No, no, no!"
“Then you agree?"
" You'll come with me alone?"
“ Yes."
“Then I agree.”
The gleam in Black's eye was revealing. It re-
tarded Garth's relief. It warned him that, entering
the place alone, he could be handled, as, perhaps,
Nora had been handled.
“I'll get my hat and coat," Black said.
“No," Garth answered. “From now on you'll
stick to me like a brother."
He took the receiver from the telephone and got
the inspector at the station house. While Black
protested, he instructed the inspector to have a man
follow Black and himself, and, no matter what house
they entered, to surround that entire block and to
keep a watch on every house front. If he could
communicate in no other way, Garth promised to
fire his revolver twice, if possible, from a front
window.
Black shrank back.
“But you said — alone."
“Alone,” Garth answered, “but that's what's go-
ing to happen once I'm in. I'm not throwing my
life away. Are you ready, or do you prefer the
cell and your picture in the morning papers ?”
Black led the way without further protests down
the staircase. At the foot he broke down again.
Garth warned him and helped him on with his over-
coat.


170
THE GRAY MASK
“You leave me no choice," Black whimpered.
“No choice."
Garth drew him to the sidewalk.
“If you waste time steering me wrong," he said,
“ I'm through. And don't forget I have a gun.
Try to throw me down once we're in, I'll use it.”
Black made an effort to square his shoulders. He
crossed the avenue with a lurching gait. Garth
glanced back. A dark figure skulked after them.
So that was all right. The inspector would know
their destination immediately.
“One thing," Garth asked. “How did you have
the nerve to drive your limousine to the place last
night?”
“I didn't,” Black answered. “I picked it up
in Third Avenue.”
He did not speak again, and Garth no longer
urged him. He walked straight for the block in
which he had been at his folly last night. But he
did not pause there. He continued across Lexing-
ton Avenue and made confidently for the deserted,
dust-filled house which just now had mocked the po-
lice. Garth, amazed, followed him to the basement
door..
Black took a key from his pocket, and with the
ease of long habit inserted it through the obscurity
in the lock. The door opened and Garth walked
into the blackness with a quickening suspense. His
apprehension was for Nora rather than himself.
What had happened to her when she had stepped
into the dusty hall? Her only chance was that he


THE HIDDEN DOOR
171
would not be caught in this somber pit as she had
probably been. He put his hand on his revolver.
“Go first,” he whispered.
The darkness was so complete that Garth had to
keep his fingers on the other's arm to avoid stumb-
ling against the walls. Yet his guide went with a
quick assurance to the rear door which he opened
with another key. They stepped beneath a rough
shelter of corrugated iron such as is hastily thrown
up for the protection in summer of washboards, or,
in winter, for the storing of wood. Black pro-
ceeded beneath this shelter along the fence to the
corner. Garth noticed a large accumulation of
rubbish in the yard, souvenirs, doubtless, of indolent
and utilitarian neighbors.
Black stooped. Evidently he had given a signal
which Garth had not seen or heard, for straightway
he arose and leant against the fence, waiting.
“What now?" Garth asked.
Black raised his finger to his lips.
Garth looked down at a rustling among the rub-
bish. A thin piece of flagging had opened at his
feet as if hinged like a trap-door, leaving visible the
top of a flight of rough wooden steps.
Black stepped down and Garth followed. The
steps led diagonally under the angle of the fence.
Others rose into the corner of the adjacent yard.
If this was their destination it was neither to one
side nor directly behind the empty house used as an
entrance. Garth marvelled at the simplicity of the
contrivance. Two men in half a day could have


172
THE GRAY MASK
accomplished the entire excavation and arranged
the steps. Moreover, without a definite clue the
police would never suspect such an entrance.
While Black carefully lowered the flag on the
other side Garth glanced around. They stood in
the kitchen shed of a house which, of course, faced
the next street. Garth had no doubt that the place
was masked with a physician's office, or, perhaps,
an appeal for boarders, who, nevertheless, would
always fail to find rooms available at the hour of
their application. He saw nothing of the man who
had admitted them by raising the flag. He was
more disturbed than before, since he could picture
the inspector's bewilderment on learning that he
had entered the house which had been so recently
raided and combed.
Garth had small time for speculation. He saw
Black press an electric button. Faintly he heard
the response from a muffled bell — two rings short,
and one long. Almost at once the door opened a
crack, but no gleam of light came through. Black
muttered something unintelligible to Garth, and led
him into a darkness as complete as that which had
oppressed him in the empty house. Yet in spite of
it he was sure it was a woman who had admitted
them.
“This way,” Black said.
Garth followed, scarcely breathing. Where
would he find Nora? How would he find her ?
A door opened ahead, and at last there was a


THE HIDDEN DOOR
173
light — a subdued, brown light, unhealthy, sugges-
tive of a melancholy repose.
Black went first, then Garth, into an inner hall-
way, which was saturated with this aberrant radi-
ance.
Garth turned sharply to inspect the woman who
had followed them in. He drew back. He con-
trolled his gasp of relief and gratitude, for it was
Nora herself who had opened the door for them
and who stood now on the threshold of the hall.
Yet he saw that his presence, instead of bringing to
them a grateful welcome, had drawn into her eyes
a fear which quickly approached despair.
She wore the apron and the cap of a housemaid,
transparent hints as to how she had found an en-
trance and remained here, unmolested. Her fea-
tures, in addition, were subtly changed, so that one,
less acquainted with them than Garth, might have
passed her unrecognizing.
His astonishment had held him longer than was
discreet. He turned at a sound to find his conduc-
tor gone. He knew what that portended. He
cursed his carelessness.
Nora took his arm.
“What are you doing here?” she whispered
tensely. “Go before it's too late. I knew they
suspected trouble to-night, but I never dreamed of
your getting in here alone. Go — the way you
came.”
“To be caught in the yard?" he scoffed. “That


174
THE GRAY MASK
fellow's given me away by this time. They'll watch
that exit first."
He ran along the hallway. The strange brown
light appeared to have given the air a substantial
resistance. He breathed it with distaste. It
choked him. At the foot of the stairs Nora caught
his arm again.
“Where are you going?”
“Up there," he answered. “I haven't the ghost
of a show in this suffocating basement. They'll
look for me here first."
He climbed the stairs. She followed him.
“Jim,” she breathed, “it's hopeless. They'll
never let you out.”
He turned at the head of the stairs. The same
dim, unreal light was repugnant in his lungs here.
A repellent odor, not to be classified, crept into
his nostrils, made him want to cough. Heavy pur- .
ple hangings were draped across two doorways.
“Tell me the lay-out," he whispered. “ Quick!
The yard isn't the only getaway?"
“Except the roof and the front," she whispered
back, “and they're locked. The head one keeps
the keys. For God's sake, Jim, try to get out of
this house before it's too late.”
He pointed to one of the draped doorways. It
was at the end of the hall, but the hall appeared to
him too short.
“Is that the front door?”
She shook her head.
“ Only leads to the front of the house. That's


THE HIDDEN DOOR
175
planted, of course — a boarding house. I tell you
that door's locked.”
“Then how can I get to a front window?"
“You can't, Jim."
He tried to plan.
“Then how am I -"
A heavy step seemed to set the thick, brown air
in lazy motion. It came from a nearby room. It
approached. Garth glanced at the purple hangings,
expecting them to part on one who would discipline
without mercy his presumption.
"Jim! They've got you, and if they see me with
you -"
She spread her arms.
“They know you're a detective. Your only hope
is that they shouldn't suspect me. And I can't lose
all I've done. Hit me, Jim."
“Nora!”
: “Trust me," she begged, “and we've a chance.
They mustn't doubt me. Hit me, Jim. Take hold
of me. Clap your hand over my mouth. Quick!"
He drew back. He knew she was right, but he
couldn't, all at once, bring himself to obey.
“I've my gun," he muttered.
“It's worthless."
The footsteps were nearer. They had persisted
with a measured, an unhurried purpose. Garth
drew his revolver. The curtains waved.
Suddenly Nora screamed. She flung herself upon
him tigerishly.
“Jim!” she whispered. “Now!"


THE HIDDEN DOOR 177
tion that he was caught in the heart of this evil
house. He wondered if Nora's strategy retarded
his captors.
A stealthy shuffling turned him from the door so
that he faced the hall. He had heard that same
sound last night when the diminutive Chinaman had
approached him. Now he saw three of the same
mold whose queues appeared to writhe in the brown
and stilling light as they glided along the hall, their
talon-like hands outstretched.
He guessed that the picture was intended to ter-
rify, to impress upon him the futility of resistance,
yet while he had his revolver the success of such an
attack was remote.
"Stay where you are," he said, puzzled, trying
to understand. “Come any closer and I'll shoot.”
The yellow mouths grinned. Then, when it was
too late, Garth understood the trick. A rush of
colder air on his back informed him that the heavy
door was open. He stood between two fires. In
fact, before he could turn, his wrists were grasped.
Two leering faces were close to him, but as the re-
volver was wrenched from his hand, he pulled the
trigger twice. With the great door open those ex-
plosions might penetrate beyond the house wall,
might carry even to the inspector's men on the side-
walk.
They had at least aroused in the thick brown
twilight of the house a restless, incoherent stirring.
Voices muttered. Steps pattered here and there.
A muffled bell commenced to complain. Through


178
THE GRAY MASK
the curtains from the inner room stepped a man —
a white man with cruelly intelligent features. Garth
realized that he probably faced the head of this
organization which for so long had outwitted the
police.
Garth laughed with an effort at bravado.
“That was a signal,” he said. “Block's sur-
rounded. They'll be in here before you can light
a joss stick. Call these things off, or you're as good
as in the chair."
Upstairs the stirrings increased. Someone
shrieked.
Nora appeared at the man's elbow. Her face
was twisted with an abandoned terror.
: “Men in the yard!” she gasped.
Garth guessed that it was a part of her scheme
to turn the hunt from him, to give him that one
moment he needed. And it worked. He felt his
hands released. The Chinamen crouched along the
wall, as if trying to conceal themselves, whining
pitifully.
Garth jumped through the front hall. The ves-
tibule door was locked and the key was missing.
There was no time to conquer locks His oppor.
tunity was limited. So he ran into the front room.
The window catch baffled him. He didn't dare
wait to fumble with it. He raised his fists and
crashed them through the glass. His hands,
scratched and bleeding a little, waved a frantic ap-
peal. He shouted. And he heard answering
voices and the pounding of feet. He saw figures


THE HIDDEN DOOR
179
glide into view and spring up the steps. The bat.
tering of shoulders filled the house with a turmoil
that drowned its own increasing agitation.
He went back to the inner hall.
“Nora!” he called.
He pushed through the curtains into a room fan-
tastic with Oriental furnishings. Black, in a panic,
had Nora in his grasp. The girl struggled mutely.
“ Drop her, Black!”
Black turned.
" That ends our bargain," Garth said harshly.
“ She tried to stop me," Black quavered.
“He's the brother-in-law," Garth said scornfully,
“ of the very man who's been trying in his useless
way to smash this gang. What do you think of
that?"
Nora came forward. She was shocked, but it
was clear she failed to share his scorn. As the
front door yielded she put her hand on his arm.
"Have you ever seen his wife, Jim?" she asked
simply.
He nodded.
“So have I,” she went on. “She's the one I'm
thinking of. She's too young, too happy, to have
her whole life stained by this thing."
But Garth's anger persisted. Black, however, in
response to Nora's nod, slipped behind the window
curtains. The inspector, Manford, and a number
of detectives rushed in.
“Get your men through the house,” Nora ad-
vised.


180
THE GRAY MASK
The inspector motioned the men to go. He lum-
bered over to Nora. He put his arms around her.
An excessive gratitude moistened his eyes and thick-
ened his voice.
"Thank the Lord!”
“Thank Jim,” she said, “although he risked
everything by appearing here."
“If you'd told us more of your plans," Garth
said, “we would have worked better together."
“I didn't dare,” she answered. “I knew so
little myself. So much depended on success.”
Manford's fragile fingers pulled at his moustache.
The humor in his eyes did not quite veil a real ad-
miration.
“Well!” he said gaily. “Let me congratulate
you, inspector. The police have put something
worth while over — through a woman.”
Garth, whose eagerness had carried him closer to
the girl, noticed for the first time on her neck a
bruise left by Black's urgent fingers. A sudden, un-
reasoning temper swept him with the necessity for
atonement. Impulsively he burst out:
“ Inspector, one of the beasts you want is behind
those curtains.
Nora cried out.
“ Jim! You might have let me have that. His
wife?"
The inspector glanced from one to the other.
“What's on your mind, Nora ?"
Manford laughed easily.
“No sentiment in this game, young woman. If


THE HIDDEN DOOR
181
nondal.
we thought of the wives there'd be few arrests."
With an air of satisfaction, as if the climactic
feature of the raid had been reserved for his im-
portance, he snatched the curtains open. Black
cowered in the embrasure of the boarded window,
glaring out at his brother-in-law. He moistened
his lips.
“Don't let them tell Anna, Billy."
Manford's satisfaction, founded on a self-im-
posed superiority, suddenly expired. He became
rather pitifully human. His cheeks darkened. His
insinuating antagonism for the inspector dwindled
and faltered, finally, into a passionate mendicancy.
He would meet any terms to spare his sister's en-
tanglement in the destroying scandal.
“ I'm afraid you might think the police didn't do
its duty," the inspector said softly. “I just heard
your own motto — no sentiment for the wives.”.
Garth had not shifted his glance from Nora.
Her disapproval more and more impressed him, yet,
with the bruise still eloquent on her white neck, he
forced himself only with distaste to bargain.
“He's my prisoner, Manford. If the inspector
says the word we'll tamper with the law and get him
away and home. There's one condition. He does
as I say for the next couple of years — takes any
treatment I suggest.”
“Don't worry. I'll see to that," Manford said.
“It's good of you, Garth."
He turned to his brother-in-law.
“Are you willing, John?”
Her dich had not shifsentiment for


182
THE GRAY MASK
Black stumbled from the embrasure. He reached
out his hands appealingly. .
“Yes, yes. I want to — with all my heart."
“Then, inspector " Manford began.
The inspector winked good-humouredly.
“Since we're all such old friends I agree. I've
never had a come-back yet from reading a little
humanity and mercy into the law. You've a good
deal to learn about police work, young man. Let's
start your education now. We'll see what the boys
have bagged.”


CHAPTER XIII
ALSOP'S INCREDIBLE VISITOR
THEN the crowded police van had left,
Nora, Garth, and the inspector stepped
into the crisp night air.
“ Garth,” the inspector said, “ you and Nora
ought to have medals or something. That pale.
face at the head of the gang is Jerry Smith. He
must have been sent on from San Francisco. If
there's a country-wide syndicate of crime he's on
the board of directors along with your old friend
Slim."
“Some day," Garth said, “ that syndicate will be
tapped properly."
Nora, after her experience in the heavy, repellent
atmosphere of the house, was anxious to remain in
the air. She proposed that they walk down town.
Garth, aware of her displeasure, scarcely dared
suggest an answer to his curiosity, but the inspector,
in a happier mood, did not hesitate.
“Maybe, Nora, you'll tell us how you got in that
dive as a first class housemaid.”
“There was only one way I could think of," she
answered. “The place was bound to make cases
for Bellevue, so I went to the head nurse and took
183


184
THE GRAY MASK
her into my confidence. She kept me posted. At
every chance I went there and was apparently ill
myself of the same dreadful illness as the patient
in the next cot. About two weeks ago the head
nurse telephoned me a case had come in which looked
promising. I've been there since. I'll confess, the
best I hoped for was the number of the house, but
this girl grew confidential finally. She had actually
worked there. When she found she couldn't go
back for a long time, and learned that I was about
to be discharged as cured, she whispered a tele-
phone number and a name. She said they would
want somebody and it was hard to get just the right
kind. I called up last night and told them about
her and my anxiety for the place A meeting was
arranged with Smith in a café. He wouldn't give
me the address, but he agreed to take me there this
afternoon. You see he wouldn't have let me out
again until he was sure of me — no afternoons off
there."
“ Clever, Nora," the inspector muttered.
She shook her head.
“ Only choosing the best chance. I knew I
couldn't trace them in any obvious fashion. They
were too careful. Few customers had the run of
the place. The stuff was taken to the rest. The
way they had Black followed last night to make
sure he left no trail shows how they accounted for
everything. He had evidently been seen answer-
ing to that generous symptom of his before."
Garth noticed that she did not speak to him di-


ALSOP'S INCREDIBLE VISITOR 187
“These unimportant things, father, are some-
times the most important of all," she said. “ Jim's
right. It's odd no witnesses can be found.”
As if there had been something prophetic in her
words and her attitude, a muffled knock came from
the outer door.
“Why doesn't he ring ?” the inspector growled.
“You haven't had the bell disconnected, Nora?
Good Lord! Am I as sick as that?"
Nora, a trifle bewildered, moved towards the
door. “Queer! And I think there are two in the
hall.”
Garth, as he always did, marveled at her acute
perception. For, although he had heard no foot-
steps, no voices, two men followed Nora into the
living room. The one in advance was young, with a
frightened and apprehensive face. His companion
was older and portlier, with narrow eyes and full-
blooded cheeks. And those eyes were uneasy. For
Garth they did not quite veil a sense of sheer terror.
With a growing discomfort he guessed the cause
of this visit.
Nora's voice betrayed none of the amazement
Garth knew she felt.
“It's Mr. Alsop, father," she said “Mr. Ad-
dington Alsop.”
The inspector had already struggled to rise. He
conceded the importance of this unexpected call.
He apologized for his failure.
“Nora's got me wound up like a mummy -"
Alsop broke in rapidly.


188
THE GRAY MASK
“No politeness, inspector. I must speak to you.
I'm up against it. They're after me.”
He sat down heavily. The young man, whom
he introduced as his secretary, Arthur Marvin,
lighted a cigarette with trembling fingers. Garth
watched them both while the inspector explained
that they might speak freely before him and Nora.
Alsop, he knew, because of his genius for organizing
money and industry, and his utter ruthlessness in
dealing with those whom necessity had thrown within
his power, had made dangerous and active enemies.
Garth was aware, moreover, that recently Alsop
had publicly defied certain organizations which had
asked what he believed to be too much. The de-
tective could understand the financier's position.
His death might be a cheap risk for outside fanatics
to take to destroy his leadership against the forces
of radicalism, for there were few men strong enough
to replace him. Alsop had a newspaper in his hand
now, and was holding it out to the inspector, while.
with his forefinger he tapped the paragraph which
told of Brown's accident.
“No accident," he muttered. “That man
worked for me — a precaution any fool would take.
Well, he must have found out what he was after
last night, and they got him, and thought they had
killed him. They tell me at the hospital he's still
unconscious.”
Nora smiled at her father.
“A cheap automobile case!” she reminded him
softly.


ALSOP'S INCREDIBLE VISITOR 189
Alsop handed Garth a crumpled, torn, and soiled
post-card.
“That came in the noon mail. Must have been
picked up by somebody and dropped in a post box.
I figure Brown, before they got him, threw it out
of a window, or some such thing. Anyway that
settled it. It brought me here for a quiet talk.” .
Garth read the card. A single line, almost un-
decipherable, sprawled across the back:
“Danger to-morrow night. Brown.”
“That means to-night,” Garth said. “Had you
planned anything important for to-night?”
Marvin laughed a little. Alsop spread his hands.
“The conference with capitalists and politicians
at which we settle on certain legislation that will
put some of these foreign anarchists on the skids,
snatch American labor beyond their influence, and
give the honest business man a chance to make a fair
profit by driving his men as he should. See here,
inspector. I'm not afraid of good Americans.
They may put me out of business, but if they do,
I'll know I've been beaten in a fair fight. It's these
damned foreign anarchists and some sore central
Europeans I'm afraid of. I expect some important
men from Wall Street and Washington to-night. I
can't let them walk into a bomb, and I don't want
any high explosives myself.”
The inspector grunted.
“Nasty situation. I'm no politician. Fight
crime. We'll see what we can do. It's a good
thing you found Garth here."


190
THE GRAY MASK
Garth, who had not ceased to study Alsop's face,
realized that the man had more to report — some-
thing which he shrank, however, from mentioning.
“ What is it, Mr. Alsop ?” he asked. “You've
something else to tell us."
Nora, who had clearly noticed the same symp-
toms, nodded approvingly. Alsop flushed and
glanced at Marvin. The secretary knocked the
ashes from his cigarette. The trembling of his fin-
gers was more apparent.
“You should tell that by all means, Mr. Alsop,”
he said in a low voice. “That's what I want to
find out. If I don't get some explanation of that
I'll doubt my sanity.”
Alsop cleared his throat.
“A ghost story," he said with an attempt at a
laugh. “ Fact is, Marvin and I and some of the
servants are haunted by a veiled woman.”
Nora came closer. The inspector turned back
to the fire a little contemptuously. But Garth had
no doubt that this hard-headed business man was
serious.
“Go on," he said softly. “You think this ghost
is connected with a dangerous conspiracy against
you?"
“I can only tell you facts and let you judge,"
Alsop answered. “I daresay you know about my
house on the river near the city line. It is lonely
for that neighbourhood, and very old. I've always
heard stories about a ghost, a veiled woman on the
upper floor - some connection with the suicide of a


ALSOP'S INCREDIBLE VISITOR 191
beautiful girl long ago. You know the sort of thing.
It's always told about old houses. The point is, I
saw that veiled woman last night, and she gave me
rather too much evidence of spirituality.”
“Why do you connect a ghost with anarchists?”
the inspector demanded.
“Because," Alsop answered, perfectly seriously,
“I believe the thing was after my papers.'
Garth laughed outright.
“Then why suspect your visitor of being a
ghost?"
“ Because," Alsop said patiently," this visitor had
every appearance of walking through a locked door."
Nora alone was thoroughly impressed.
“Tell us,” she urged.
“I've a safe in my room," Alsop said, “and as
an extra precaution, when I've had important papers
at the house, I've locked my door. I went upstairs
late last night. There was no light in the upper
hall, but a glow came from the lamps downstairs.
In this sort of radiance I saw the figure of a woman,
clothed in white, her face hidden behind a white veil,
come apparently from my room, cross the hall, and
disappear. I cried out. I sprang for the door.
It was locked. Marvin and I searched the house.
My daughters are in Florida. The only women
in the place were servants. There seemed no way
in or out of the house without the collusion of one
of these. And I've had them a long time. It's
hard to suspect them. Besides, Marvin has had
much the same experience. Tell them, Arthur."


192
THE GRAY MASK
“As a motive," Marvin said slowly, “I might
mention the fact that I often take my work upstairs
- letters of Mr. Alsop's to answer, statements to
make out. The first time the thing happened was
Thursday night. It must have been after midnight.
I was in bed. I awakened with that uncomfortable
feeling of being no longer alone. At first I saw
nothing. The only light in the room came from a
dying moon. I had been nervous for several nights,
fearing an attempt on Mr. Alsop. I never could
get him to take that very seriously until to-day. At
any rate, after a long time, I saw this figure that
Mr. Alsop describes. It did not seem to come from
anywhere."
He commenced to pace up and down the room.
There was about the sudden gesture of his hand a
despairing belief that shocked Garth.
“The thing - white veil and all — seemed to
materialize out of nothing. It moved softly about
the room as if searching — searching. I thought
of the letters on my desk. I called out instinctively,
" Who's there?' There was no reply. The fig-
ure did not hurry. It stepped behind a screen by
the fireplace. I sprang up and went there. I
couldn't believe the evidence of my eyes. There
was no one — nothing behind the screen. I ex-
amined the door. It was locked as I had left it, with
the key on the inside. There was no way in or
out of that room. Yet the veiled woman had been
there, and had gone, leaving no trace."


ALSOP'S INCREDIBLE VISITOR 193
searching new I wasit frighten
“The windows," Garth said, “ or the fireplace ?"
Marvin shook his head.
“The windows were scarcely open, and a fire
burned in the fireplace. And, mind you, this was
before Mr. Alsop had seen the woman. I mean,
he had not suggested the vision to me. The same
thing happened last night. That figure came
searching and disappeared in the same impossible
way. I knew I was n't dreaming then. I spoke of
it to Mr. Alsop. It frightens me. I want an ex-
planation of that."
“Catch your enemies and you'll catch your ghost,"
Garth said drily. “I'd like a shot at both.”
“What you want;" the inspector said to Alsop
and Marvin, “is protection for yourselves and your
distinguished guests. What the police want is to
catch these fellows red-handed. We'll try to fit the
two things. Don't lose your nerve. Go ahead
with your conference, and trust Garth to find out
how your veiled woman gets in and out of the house
and through locked doors. I should say if we find
her we should have the brains of the conspiracy.
There may be no danger for you to-night. We've
only Brown's post card to go on. That looks seri-
ous, and I'll do my best to protect you. But you
must give me every chance to nab these birds. This
sort of thing's getting too bold. There's too much
foreign propaganda in this country. It would
please me to throw the fear of Uncle Sam into such
people."


194
THE GRAY MASK
And when Nora had gone to the door with Alsop
and Marvin, he called Garth over, and hurriedly
whispered:
“It's a big chance, Garth, but dangerous as dyna-
mite. These fellows won't hesitate to blow that
house up if they can't block Alsop's dirty politics any
other way. And remember, you're fighting a
woman who behaves like a ghost. Take it from
me, she's the one you've got to be afraid of. She
has the brains."
"If I could get something out of Brown," Garth
mused.
“Maybe he's conscious now," the inspector said.
“Run up to the hospital, then look over the neigh-
borhood where he was found. Come back here by
five, and we'll lay our plans."
Nora stopped Garth in the hall.
" Jim," she breathed, "you're going to take this
case ?"
“Surely. I've only to lay a ghost. That ought
to be simple.”
She hesitated.
“I've been thinking,” she said, “and I wish you
wouldn't go, because it will be hard, terribly hard -
with death always in the way."


CHAPTER XIV
THE LEVANTINE WHO GUARDED A CURTAIN
G
fide
VARTH, in spite of Nora's fears, went con-
fidently enough to the hospital. If he could
learn all Brown knew the case should be easy
sailing.
In Brown's room the blinds were down. The
greenish light scarcely found the upturned face. It
sought rather the bandage, ghastly and white, wound
thickly about the head. From time to time Brown's
lips moved with a pitiful futility. Garth, while the
nurse cautioned him to silence, bent closer, so that
at last he could define the pallid face and the closed
eyelids that trembled. Suddenly the eyes opened.
From them into Garth's brain sprang an impression
of immeasurable terror as if they still secreted the
outline of some monstrous vision.
Garth started back as the injured man, appar-
ently spurred by that recollection, struggled to rise,
sat bolt upright, his head swaying drunkenly, while
from his wide throat vibrated an accusing and de-
spairing cry:
“The veiled woman! Oh, my God! The veiled
woman!”
Garth's nerves tightened. Again that incredible
195


196
THE GRAY MASK
feature of the case startled him. Here was proof
he needed. The figure that had frightened Alsop
and Marvin was probably involved in the attack on
Brown. The inspector was right. She was the
brains of the affair. Brown must tell him all he
knew. He urged the man desperately.
“Take hold of yourself! You've seen this
woman! You've got to talk to me!”
But Brown screamed incoherently with a dimin-
ishing power. The nurse had run into the hall.
Through the open doorway her voice tore anxiously,
summoning a house physician.
Garth's feeling of a desperate helplessess in-
creased. Before him was the knowledge that would
safeguard Alsop and his friends, that would insure
Garth's own life, that would destroy, perhaps, a
dangerous foreign influence, and the man couldn't
speak.
At last the nurse's calls seemed to seep through
the bandage into that tortured brain, suggesting the
necessity for caution. In a whisper coherent words
came again from the trembling lips.
“For God's sake, don't look behind the white
veil! No! No! I have. That's madness!"
The doctor slipped in and hurried to the bedside.
In response to his touch Brown lay down.
“Don't dope him," Garth begged. “That man
knows things on which many lives depend. He must
tell them to me before night. When will he be able
to talk straight?"
The doctor smiled tolerantly,


THE LEVANTINE
197
te
“ You don't seem to understand. A frightful
fracture at the base of the brain. He seems in-
clined to be quiet enough now."
The doctor turned away. Garth followed him
to the door, urging him to use his skill to make
Brown talk. The nurse had remained by the bed.
Garth heard her sharp cry through his own plead-
ing. The sound puzzled him because it was a trifle
strangled. The doctor, however, turned like a flash
and hurried back to the bed. Garth looked. The
nurse bent over the bandaged head. The doctor
fumbled quickly beneath the bed clothes. He arose,
glanced at Garth, and spread his hands. Garth
picked at his hat, unwilling to believe.
“You mean," he whispered, “that he's —
do se
gone?”
The doctor nodded. The nurse sobbed once.
Garth had not noticed how young her face was.
The block where the murdered man had been
found was flanked by long rows of similar houses.
Its cobblestones, unfriendly to traffic, made it an
ideal place for the brutal deception which had been
attempted.
Opposite the spot where Brown had been picked
up Garth paused and looked curiously across the
street. The dreary house line was broken there by
a number of basement and first-story shops. His
eyes, alert for the unusual, had found it. A base-
ment window displayed intricately patterned rugs,
lamps of the Orient, unfamiliar and barbaric jewel-


198
THE GRAY MASK
ry. The fact that he had not noticed the window
sooner testified to a significant discretion in its ar-
rangement. It was, he fancied, designed less to
attract curiosity than to satisfy it once it was
aroused. Probably it was that idea that suggested
a fantastic connection between what he had heard
at the flat and the hospital and what he saw now.
Half derisively he recalled that Oriental women
went veiled — customarily secreted their faces be-
hind white veils.
He had intended entering all these shops and
houses in search of a witness of the attack on Brown.
He determined now to proceed ra her more warily.
Suppose Brown spying, or about tɔ spy, had been
assaulted in one of these basements — for instance,
in the Oriental shop which had straightway aroused
his interest ?
He crossed the street and darted quickly down
the steps from one side, so that he was sure he had
taken by surprise whoever was in the place. What
he saw was sufficient proof of his success, and his
special detective sense was immediately impressed
by much that was ominous in the shadowed room.
The echoes of such an attack as Brown had suf-
fered could have been easily smothered here.
Rugs were draped against the walls or Alung at
haphazard on the floor. Carved tables supported
lacquer work. From a glas's case jewelry gleamed
with a dull beauty. But it was on the rear of the
shop that Garth's eyes rested, while a cold fear
grasped him.


202
THE GRAY MASK
Oriental shop. The servant who admitted him
verified his hazard. At this hour the occupants
were at work. She was, for the present, alone in
the house.
Garth showed her his badge, warned her to make
no noise, and to stay close to him. The girl, fright-
ened and unable to comprehend, followed him into
the basement. He paced from the front of the
house along the wall to a point which, according to
his calculations, was opposite the hidden portion of
the shop. He glanced up then with satisfaction.
Against a thin and antiquated partition was sus-
pended one of those heavy and unwieldy gas meters
which are found only in very old buildings.
Garth drew up a table, climbed upon it, and ex-
amined the thick screws which held the contrivance
in place. With his screwdriver he commenced
noiselessly to remove one of these. He thought it
likely that the screw hole would go all the way
through. If it did not, his auger would complete
the journey. He instructed the girl to draw the
blinds and close the door so that the room would
be darker. He pulled the screw from the rotten
mitted the repellent odor he had noticed in the
shop; so he put his eye to the hole and waited for his
brain to accustom itself to these new conditions.
The drone of voices reached him, but at first he
could see very little — shadowy outlines circling a
dull, glowing thing close to the floor — a brazier,
he decided, about which men sat. Then he started,


THE LEVANTINE
203
for he thought he saw something long and white,
like a woman. But the smoke from the aperture
hurt his eye. He had to close it. When he opened
it again there was nothing white, but out of the
droning voices came words in English with a foreign
accent, and he crouched aginst the wall, listening.
He marveled that he should hear just these words
at this particular moment.
“The police are suspicious," he heard, “ so it's
been put ahead. At nine o'clock to-night. Two
raps on the west door at Alsop's. The veiled
woman will open the door and take the bomb, and
then, by God, we'll show them!”
A sibilant demand for caution reached Garth.
The droning recommenced. Garth fancied that it
continued in the guttural accents of some eastern
dialect.
He replaced the screw. He got down from the
table, able to plan definitely. Against her protests,
he took the girl to headquarters and warned the
matron to let her communicate with no one before
nine-thirty. He hurried to the flat then, and told
the inspector and Nora of Brown's death and of his
experience at the shop.
"That's where Brown was struck," he ended,
“ and Brown was right. They are after Alsop and
his crowd to-night with dynamite, and the veiled
woman's the figure of chief danger. Do you know,
chief, I'm going to let them hand her that bomb,
then I'll try to handle her."
The inspector shook his head.


204
THE GRAY MASK
" It's taking too big chances to let them get as
far as the house with the thing."
"It's the veiled woman I'm thinking of," Garth
answered. “Grab these people before her share
commences, and you'll probably never see her.
She'll bob up here and there, causing infinite trouble,
because everything she does has the marks of a
fiendish cleverness. Let me take the risk and land
her."
“It's utter madness your way," Nora said quietly.
“How could you control her with a thing like that
in her hands ?”
“I think I can take care of her and the bomb,
too,” Garth said quietly.
The inspector thought for a long time. It was
clear the idea tempted him. If Garth could ambush
the mysterious creature at the proper moment, her
capture would be certain. His own share in the
night's work was simple. He had arranged to sur-
round the Alsop place quietly with his best detec-
tives. They would keep themselves hidden. They
would permit the conspirators to enter the grounds.
Garth, at the house, would use his own judgment.
When he blew his whistle this small army would
close in and make the arrests. Meantime the
Oriental shop would be raided. The dictaphone,
which undoubtedly carried the signaling of the pipe,
would probably lead the police to another rendez-
vous.
" It looks like a big haul,” the inspector said.
“We can't let Alsop's ghost slip us."


THE LEVANTINE
205
With a grumbled oath the inspector tossed his
blankets aside and lumbered to his feet. He stood
for a moment swaying against the chair. His pudgy
fingers tore at the bandage about his throat. Nora
ran to him and grasped his arm.
“ What are you doing, father?”
“Haven't you any eyes ?” he roared. “Getting
well. I'm tired being sick. I want to get on this
job. Working, I can cough my head off as comfort-
ably as I can sitting here."
Nora spread her hands.
“You are both mad," she said. “You both
want to take too great risks — impossible risks.”
Garth was warmed by her concern for him. For
the first time since their quarrel in the house with
the hidden door the barrier of reserve which had
risen between them lost a little its solidity.
The inspector had gone into his bedroom. From
the sounds there Garth gathered that the huge man
fought his way into his clothing. Nora stared help-
lessly from the door to Garth and back again. Then
he saw resolution tighten the lines of her face. Her
eyes flashed. She laughed. Without shaking
hands she turned and walked to the door of the in-
spector's room.
“Good-by, Jim," she called. “I suppose I'll
have to look after this reckless one first."
Garth went. Nora's words and manner had
made him a trifle uneasy. Little time, however,
remained for speculation. It was seven o'clock


206
THE GRAY MASK
when he had completed his arrangements. He took
the subway to Harlem and continued in a taxicab.
Alsop's great wealth permitted him a rural lone-
liness even in this expensive neighborhood. Garth
dismissed the cab at the edge of a wide property
along the river, made sure he had not been followed,
then climbed the fence, and entered a thick piece of
woods.
Certainly nature favored the police as thoroughly
as it did the conspirators. There was no moon,
and sullen clouds hid the stars.
Suddenly in the dense obscurity of the woods he
experienced that sensation Marvin had described of
no longer being alone. He paused and waited,
scarcely breathing, aware of the dangers, perhaps
fatal, that might lurk for him here. And, as he
stood, not knowing what to expect, he wondered if
the veiled woman was abroad in the woods. He
became filled with a passionate desire to learn her
identity. The somber, perfumed atmosphere of
the shop came back to him. There were odd things
in the Orient -- happenings, apparently occult, for
which no explanation had ever been offered. Mar-
vin was young and imaginative, but Alsop was not
the type to be frightened by fancies, yet both of these
men believed that the woman could pass through
locked doors, that she could appear and disappear
as she wished. And Brown had said that to look
behind the veil was madness. Was she abroad in
these woods? He had waited for some time.
There was nothing. He stepped forward.


210
THE GRAY MASK
now to bring them from the safe I felt it. I saw
something white, and I ran down. Ask Marvin.
I'm afraid. I acknowledge it. Stay in this house
with that that influence, then if you'll tell me I'm
a coward I'll believe it."
" I'm not sneering,” Garth said grimly. “As a
matter of fact we know your veiled woman is act-
ually to be in this house at nine o'clock. It's likely
enough she's upstairs now in some hidden corner
after failing to steal your papers. I'll search every
rat hole, because you can take it for granted her
apparent magic is pure trickery, and if she isn't to be
found upstairs we've a net arranged down here for
her a little later."
He explained briefly the arrangement that Nora's
presence and her disguise had made possible. Alsop
and Marvin were not impressed.
“Better find out what you can now," Alsop ad-
vised.
He nodded at Marvin. Garth and Nora fol-
lowed the secretary towards the stairs. Suddenly,
with a sharp intake of breath, Garth turned, grasped
Nora's arm, and drew her back.
“ Alsop," he whispered excitedly, “I don't give
a hang how long you've had your servants, or how
much you trust them. The thing's obvious any-
way. Nora! You saw that?”.
Nora nodded. Her eyes were wide.
“What do you mean?" Alsop gasped.
Without answering Garth ran down the hallway
and flung the curtain at the end to one side. Across


212
THE GRAY MASK
He shook off her hands. He entered the dark
room, and immediately he knew she had been right,
that he had advanced too precipitately. He
stumbled against something soft and yielding, and
went down, stretching out his hand to save him-
self. He knew what his fingers had found. He
snatched them away with a little cry:
“Get back to the hall, Nora!"
But he heard no movement from her, so, since
he didn't dare wait, he took his flashlight from his
pocket, pressed the control, and turned the ray on
the features his hand had touched in the dark.
Marvin was stretched, face downward on the floor
near the head of the bed. His arm lay beyond his
head, pitiful evidence that he had reached for the
electric light switch which had been just beyond his
grasp.
Nora with a reluctant air had come closer. Cry-
ing out her horror, she indicated the collar, at the
back of Marvin's neck.
“ Blood!”
Garth nodded.
“ Like Brown. The same place as Brown's
wound."
Nora covered her face with her hands.
Garth sprang up, unconsciously quoting Brown's
words:
“That's madness !".
He ran to the bath-room and brought water with
which he bathed Marvin's face and head. He
looked up after a moment with a sigh of relief.


THE VEILED, WOMAN
213
" It was only a glancing blow," he said. “He'll
come around.”
Marvin, indeed, before long stirred, and tried to
struggle to a sitting posture as Brown had done.
He cried out, as Brown had cried:
“ The veiled woman!”.
“You see,” Nora breathed.
Garth lifted the secretary to the bed, but when, to
an extent, the man had recovered consciousness he
had nothing reasonable to tell.
He had started, he said, up the stairs, thinking
Garth at his heels. He had been about to press the
switch.
“I knew she was there," he sobbed. “I saw
her — all white, and with a veil over her face.
Then I don't know. I don't remember being
struck. Everything went black."
Garth with a gesture of determination turned and
commenced examining the room. Nora, crouched
against the wall, watched him with the assurance
of one who sees an evil prophecy fulfilled. After
a quarter of an hour he gave it up. There was no
one concealed in the room. Nor, he would have
sworn, was there any reasonable hiding place. From
behind the screen where the veiled woman had evi-
dently disappeared twice there was no possible es-
саре.
"Before long, Marvin,” he muttered, “ I'll be as
bad as you and old Alsop. If you believe in ghosts,
Nora, this certainly looks like one."
He glanced at his watch.


THE VEILED WOMAN
215
tered, and closed the door. The faces that greeted
him were restless with misgiving.
“I want you all out of this room now, please,”
Garth said. “I've delayed moving you as long as
I dared, so, if anything goes wrong, those outside
won't know you have left. Take them to the back
part of the house, Mr. Alsop. Into the cellar, if
you like. It's safest. In fifteen or twenty minutes
I hope you will be able to resume your conference
in perfect security.".
Without words the men gathered up their papers
and filed out.
Garth, left alone in the room, turned out the
light, went to the window, slipped behind the cur-
tain, opened the casement, and peered through.
The darkness was still unrelieved. Through
that darkness, he knew, men crept on an errand of
fanaticism and death. Through that silence he was
momentarily expectant of the audible evidence of
their approach. But he could hear nothing, see
nothing. He couldn't wait. It was necessary for
him to go to the door from behind which he was to
ambush the veiled woman in order that Nora might
take her place.
As he thrust the curtain aside a thin, tinkling
sound stole from the silence of the room. He felt
his way to the telephone and lifted the receiver.
“Hello!” he whispered. “Hello!”
The inspector's hoarse voice came to him, low-
ered to a note of caution.


216
THE GRAY MASK
“ You, Garth? I'm in the gardener's cottage.
Tell me Alsop and his people are safe.".
“Yes," Garth said. “Hurry! Hurry! What's
up?"
“For Heaven's sake, be careful,” the inspector
answered, “because, Garth, all your dope was right.
There are four of them in the grounds now, and
one carries a thing that looks like a bomb. Are you
going to get away with it? The veiled woman -"
“She's in the house," Garth murmured. “I'm
waiting. I must go. Hush! I hear ".
He broke off. Through the appalling quietness
of the house he had heard distinctly from the direc-
tion of the west door two sharp raps. He flashed
his light at the clock over the mantel. Its hands
pointed exactly to nine o'clock. Yet he had seen
no one pass the dim frame of the library doorway
-nothing white.
He ran through. In the wan candle light he
could see the slender figure in the white gown and
the flowing veil slip from behind the screen and open
the door. Then Nora would get the bomb, but
where was the real veiled woman? What unac-
countable intuition had warned her away?
Garth slipped along the hall, clinging to the
shadow of a tapestry. He knew from the black
patch at the end of the corridor that the door was
wide. In that dark patch he suddenly saw the sil.
houette of a man. The hands were stretched out as
if to meet the hands which Nora appeared to offer
for the bomb. But the man carried no bomb. In


THE VEILED WOMAN
221
intended masquerade. Don't you see? He had to
tell them that. We caught him, and he scratched
himself to throw us off the track with the details
of another case like Brown's. Now I heard him
tell everything — just what I was to do, and that
Alsop and the others were in the library. I ran
downstairs, but when I reached the lower hall I saw
him coming after me. So I said I had changed my
mind, that I was afraid, that I wanted only to leave
the house. I went to the kitchen and slipped out,
intending to get to you, Jim, with my information.
But I knew these men were in the grounds, and I
had to go carefully. When I crept up to the library
window I thought I saw you. Then the telephone
bell rang, and I couldn't make you hear."
“Of course," Garth said, “ Marvin, coming down,
had seen that the library, door was open, and that
there was no longer a light there. It was too late
to use the dictaphone again, but he knew he must
change his instructions and tell them not to waste
the bomb in the library. So he threw on his dis-
guise and rushed to the west door as he had origi-
nally planned, in too much of a hurry to dream such
a mistake could happen. I suppose he got past
while I was at the window."
“Maryin," the inspector mused, “was just the
man for them. Probably full of wild-eyed ideas,
and feeling a divine call to help smash Alsop. I
hold no brief for that millionaire. I understand
he had to work, like most everybody else, for what
he's got, and maybe that's the reason he can't under-


THE VEILED WOMAN 223
excuse, and get into the shop by a back way to re-
ceive his new orders. It was simple enough."
The inspector grunted.
“If we saw all the simple things there'd be no
need for detectives.”
He commenced to cough with a persistent vehe-
mence.
“Take me home, Nora," he groaned. “Back to
the fireplace and the flannel for the old man.
You're always right, Nora. Isn't she always right,
Garth?"
But Garth, recalling that moment before Nora
and he had entered the Alsop house, shook his head.
Nora must have seen and understood, for she
laughed lightly.
"Maybe she is,” Garth said thoughtfully, “but
sometimes I wonder.”


CHAPTER XVI
A NOTE FROM THE DEAD
LSOP was around the next day, loud with
generosity, and anxious to give Garth the
- only form of reward he could understand —
large sums of money. Garth, however, didn't care
for the man. He preferred to keep their relations
on a purely business basis. .
“I only did my duty, Mr. Alsop," he said.
“ Some day I may break away from here and start
an office of my own. In that case, if you cared
to mention me to your friends I would feel I had
been well repaid.”
“Maybe you were a little too proud, Garth,"
the inspector grunted afterwards.
Nora, however, when she heard of it, said simply
" Jim, you did perfectly right. If you had taken
money from that man he'd have believed he owned
you body and soul.”
“When you two combine against me I've nothing
more to say," the inspector grinned.
Garth knew that the old man watched, with some-
thing like anxiety himself, the progress of his and
Nora's friendship. The detective had long since
made up his mind not to speak to the inspector on
224


A NOTE FROM THE DEAD 225
that subject until he had received some definite en-
couragement from the girl. The inspector himself
brought up the matter about this time. Probably
the impulse came from the trial of Slim and George
which began and threatened, in spite of its clear
evidence, to drag through several weeks.
It would be necessary, of course, for both Garth
and Nora to testify sooner or later. So they re-
hearsed all the incidents of that night when Garth
had worn the grey mask. After this exercise
one evening the inspector followed Garth to the
hall.
“I don't want my girl to become morbid, Jim.”
Garth nodded.
“ You mean Kridel ?”
“You've said it," the big man answered with an
attempt at a whisper. “I've thought that maybe
you and Nora - See here, Jim, I wouldn't mind
a bit. You see Nora's mother was Italian. I don't
altogether understand her, but I know it isn't natural
for her to mourn for this fellow forever, and I
mean, if you and she ever hit it off, I won't forbid
the banns. Only maybe you'll let me live with you
now and then. You don't know what that girl
means to me, Jim; but I want to make her happy,
and I believe you're the one, for a blind, deaf, and
dumb man could see you are in love with her.”
Garth laughed, not altogether comfortably.
“It's up to Nora, chief, but I don't see how I
can ever get along without her.”
It wasn't often that the inspector had used Garth's


226
THE GRAY MASK
first name. It seemed to bring the detective closer
to his goal. During the daytime at headquarters,
however, their relations were scarcely altered.
Garth often suffered from lack of work there, prob-
ably because the inspector didn't care to send him
out on unimportant matters that the least imagina-
tive of his men could handle. When he had to
assign him to an unpromising task, either to spare
him too prolonged idleness, or because no other de-
tective was available, the big man always assumed
an apologetic air. It was so when he started him
on the mystifying Taylor case.
“Nothing doing these days," he grumbled.
“ City must be turning pure, Garth. Anyway I got
to give it something for its money. Run up and
take a look at this suicide. Seems Taylor was a
recluse. Alone with his mother-in-law and the ser-
vants. Wife's in California. Suppose you had
other plans, but I don't see why the city should pay
you to talk moonshine to Nora."
He grinned understandingly, encouragingly.
So the detective nodded, strolled up town, and
with a bored air stepped into that curious house.
Garth for a long time stared at the pallid features
of the dead man. Abruptly his interest quickened.
Between the thumb and forefinger of the clenched
left hand, which drooped from the side of the bed,
a speck of white protruded. The detective stooped
swiftly. The hand, he saw, secreted a rough sheet
of paper. He drew it free, smoothed the crumpled


A NOTE FROM THE DEAD
231
“I must know," he said, “more about the con-
ditions in this house last night.”
He had spoken softly, musingly, yet the man, who
had displayed the symptoms of a radical deafness,
glanced up, asking without hesitation:
“You don't suspect anything out of the way, sir?"
Garth studied him narrowly.
“I want to know why the shot wasn't heard.
You were here and Mr. Taylor's mother-in-law.
Who else?”
The bony hand snapped to McDonald's ear again.
“Eh? Eh?”
“Speak up," Garth said impatiently. “Who was
in the house besides yourself and Mrs. Taylor's
mother?"
“The cook, Clara, sir — only the cook, Clara."
“You're sure ?"
“ Absolutely, sir. Who else should there be ?
We've been short of servants lately."
Garth dismissed him, instructing him to send Mrs.
Taylor's mother. While he waited he stared from
the window again, jerking savagely at his watch
ribbon. From McDonald he had received a sharp
impression of secretiveness. He hadn't cared to
arouse the servant's suspicions. Through strategy
he might more surely learn whatever the old man
had held back.
Garth swung around with a quick intake of breath.
He had heard no one enter. Through the obscurity,
accented rather than diminished by the circular patch
of light around the chair, he could see no one. Yet


232
THE GRAY MASK
almost with a sense of vibration there had reached
him through the heavy atmosphere of the old house
an assurance that he was watched from the shadows.
Impulsively he called out:
“Who's that?"
He stepped to the desk so that he could see the
portion of the room beyond the light. It was
empty. Garth, as such things go, had no nerves,
but through his bewilderment a vague uneasiness
crept.
He sprang back, turning. A clear, girlish laugh
had rippled through the dusk. A high, girlish voice
had challenged him.
"Here I am! Hide and seek with the police-
man!"
He saw, half hidden in the folds of the curtain
at the side of the embrasure in which he had stood,
a figure, indistinct, clothed evidently in black. He
took it for granted McDonald had sent the girl,
Clara, first.
"I wanted Mr. Taylor's mother-in-law," he said..
“No matter. Come here, and let me remind you
that humor is out of place in a house of death."
Nevertheless the pleasant laugh rippled again.
Slowly the dark figure detached itself from the shad.
ows and settled in the chair while Garth watched,
his uneasiness drifting into a blank unbelief. He
couldn't accept the girlish laughter, the high, coquet-
tish voice as having come from the grey, witch-like
hag whom the light now exposed mercilessly.
“I am Mr. Taylor's mother-in-law,” she said


A NOTE FROM THE DEAD 233
laughingly. “Everybody's surprised because I'm so
youthful. My daughter's coming home this after-
noon. That's why I'm so happy. They wouldn't
let me go west with her, but when one's as advanced
as I young people don't bother much.”
Garth experienced a quick sympathy, yet behind
the mental deterioration of extreme old age some-
thing useful might lurk.
"You slept in the front part of the house last
night," he tried. “You probably heard the shot."
She shook her head. Her sunken mouth twitched
in a smile a trifle sly.
“Once I drop off it would take a cannonade to
wake me up.”
For no apparent reason her youthful and atrocious
laugh rippled again.
“ Please," Garth said gently. “Mr. Taylor "
“At my age," she broke in, "you say when a
younger person dies: 'Ha, ha! I stole a march
on that one.'”
She arose and with a curious absence of sound
moved towards the door.
"I must go now. I am knitting a sweater. It
was for my son-in-law. Now that he's put himself
out of the way it might fit you."
The door closed behind her slender figure, and
Garth tugged at his watch ribbon, wondering. Her
actions had been too determined, her last words too
studied. They had seemed to hold a threat. Was
she as senile as she appeared, or had she tried to
throw sand in his eyes ?


A NOTE FROM THE IL DEAD DEAD
237
“Eh? Eh?" the old man quavered.
“You're not as deaf as that. Where's your
daughter now?"
“My ears!" the old servant whined. “I can't
hear, sir."
“ All right," Garth shouted. “If you want to
go to the lockup and your daughter too, stay as deaf
as you please.”
He wasn't prepared for the revolting success that
came to him. McDonald clutched at one of the
window curtains and hid his twitching face in its
folds, while sobs, difficult and sickening, tore from
his throat, shaking his bent shoulders.
“God knows! I haven't seen her since I went
to bed last night. I thought she'd gone out."
He glanced up, his face grimacing.
“Don't you think she did it. Don't you think "
“First of all," Garth said, “I want her picture."
“ I haven't any," McDonald cried.
But Garth hadn't missed the man's instinctive
gesture towards his watch pocket. Then, whether
he actually knew anything or not, he suspected his
daughter and sought to protect her. Against his
protests Garth took the watch and, as he had fore-
seen, found a photograph in the case. The picture
was not of a young woman, but the face was still
attractive in an uncompromising fashion. It was
this hardness, this determination about the picture
that made Garth decide that the original, under
sufficient provocation, would be capable of killing.
“For her sake and yours, McDonald,” Garth


238
THE GRAY MASK
said, “ answer one thing truthfully. Did she fancy
herself any more than a superior servant? Had she
formed for Mr. Taylor any silly attachment?"
McDonald's reply was quick and assured.
“To Mr. Taylor she was only a trusted servant,
sir, and she knew her place."
The whirring of a motor suggested that an auto-
mobile had drawn up before the house. Garth
slipped the photograph in his pocket.
"If that is Mrs. Taylor arriving," he said with
an uncomfortable desire to shirk the next few min-
utes, “ the news of her husband's death might come
easier from you."
“I telephoned Mr. Reed,” McDonald said.
“He's an old friend of Mr. and Mrs. Taylor's. I
told him about the telegram, and he's probably met
her and brought her home.”
"I will be here," Garth said, “if she wishes to
speak to me."


240
THE GRAY MASK
Her lips twitched a little. He fancied hope in
her eyes.
“If I could only cry!” she said. “At any rate
that would be better for his memory, wouldn't it?
You suspect this woman?”
“If you are able,” Garth said, “I would like you
to tell me something about her.”
“ I have never seen her," she answered. “She
came after I went west. McDonald had a good
deal of influence over Mr. Taylor, and I never quite
trusted him. There's no use. You might as well
know the truth about Mr. Taylor and me. You've
probably heard. We were never quite happy. He
was so much older. We never quite belonged to
each other. But that is all. It isn't true all this
gossip that I went west for a divorce, and I don't
believe he was the man to kill himself. If there
has been a crime against him I want the world to
know it. I want his memory clean."
Quickly the man Reed touched her shoulder. For
the first time since entering the room he spoke. His
voice possessed a peculiar, aggressive resonance.
“Helen, you shouldn't take this man's suspicion
that he was murdered too seriously.”
Garth motioned him to silence.
“At such a time," he said to Mrs. Taylor, “I
dislike to bother you, but I'd like to ask one or two
questions. Your mother? Her mind?”
He caught a flash of pain across her white face.
“ She has always been peculiar," she answered,
“but she isn't out of her head, if that's what you


THE KNIFE
241
mean. I've always thought it's a habit of hers to
hide her real thoughts behind apparent absurdi-
ties."
“I had wondered about that," Garth said with
satisfaction. “ One more thing. There has been
talk among the servants of spirits, of moans.”
She shivered.
“I know nothing about that,” she said, “except
that the house is unbearable. That is one reason
I decided on this long visit, why I shrank from
coming home.”
“Unbearable?” Garth helped her out.
“Old, moldy, and depressing. My husband, I
think, believed in it a little. I've heard him and
my mother talk about a figure who sometimes
walked. I laughed at that, and I laughed when
they heard moans. You see the wind often cries in
the narrow space between us and the high wall of
the next house. I've never liked it here. It de-
presses me too much. That's all."
“ Thanks,” Garth said. “You will want time to
accustom yourself. Rest assured I will do every-
thing I can to get the truth."
“You must,” she said tensely, “and don't hesi-
tate to disturb me if I can be of any use."
As they went out the resonance of Reed's under-
tone reached Garth.
“Helen. You are giving this man's suspicion too
much weight. He seems to have no evidence."
After the door had closed Garth telephoned the
inspector, suggesting that the house be guarded in


THE KNIFE
245
whose edges were stained, showing where the knife
had penetrated the shoulder. The wound didn't
look deep or dangerous, and in his unconsciousness
McDonald breathed regularly. So Garth hurried
back to the bed and examined the knife. There was
no ambiguity about the red stains on the blade. The
knife, resting close to the dead hand, had wounded
McDonald who had seemed to accuse the still form
whose note projected the impression of having been
written after death.
Garth smothered his morbid thoughts. McDon-
ald's daughter was the living force, probably at
large in this house, that he wanted to chain. If
she were guilty of the earlier crime she had suffi-
cient motive for this attempt to keep the old man
silent. She could have got such a knife from the
kitchen. So, for that matter, could Clara. But
the eccentric had laughed. Was that merely coinci-
dence? Garth ran across the hall and listened at
her door with an increasing excitement. He heard
the running of water, regularly interrupted, as if
by hands being cleansed under an open faucet. He
tried the door and found it unlocked. He entered,
staring at the daring indifference of the old woman
who stepped from the bath room, calmly drying
her hands on a towel.
“Come in, policeman,” she said in her high girlish
voice. “Don't suffer in the black hall.”
“Let me have that towel” he cried.
Without hesitation she offered him the piece of
linen. It showed no stains, nor were there stains


246
THE GRAY MASK
to be found about the wash basin, but the slab of
marble in which it was set was damp as if it had
just now been carefully cleansed. She watched, her
wrinkled face set in an expression of contempt.
“What are you up to ? Think if I wanted to do
anything wrong I'd let you find me out?”.
“Then you know," he said, “what happened out
there in the hall. I heard you laugh."
She started. Her voice was lower. At last it
was as old as herself.
“Things always happen out there. It is crowded
with the people who have lived in this house before
us - unhappy and angry people. Often I have seen
and heard the black thing out there. I would never
laugh at her.”
Again the doubt of her senility attacked him.
"You can't impress me with that,” he said harshly.
“I am talking about McDonald. He was stabbed
out there a few minutes ago."
She laughed foolishly.
“Horrid old man! But why should I want to
see him stabbed ?".
He watched her closely.
“I saw you strike him. You didn't have enough
strength to send the blow home.”
The assurance of her voice increased his doubt.
Whatever her mental state she was at least purpose-
ful.
"You need glasses, policeman. Don't neglect
your eyes. You have only one pair."
He felt himself against a blank wall, and there


THE KNIFE
247
was McDonald to think of. He asked one more
question.
“When did you last see McDonald's daughter?"
“Maybe at dinner last night," she said. “Nice
girl, in spite of her father. I must go back to my
knitting, policeman."
Garth left her, hurrying down stairs to the front
door. He called the policeman from the shadows
of the portico, instructing him to go to the large
apartment house on the corner where he would al-
most certainly find a physician.
As he gave his directions he saw Nora's slender
figure cross the street and come up the steps, and,
as he looked at the pretty Latin face, expressive of
an exceptional intelligence, his morose and puzzled
mind brightened. He was surprised to see her now,
and a little worried, for a grave menace existed for
every one in this house. Moreover, the case mysti-
fied him to the point where he felt he must find the
solution himself. He didn't care to place himself
again under obligations to her. Rather he was am-
bitious to impress her, perhaps to the removal of her
reserve.
“Father's told me about the case," she said. "I
couldn't keep away, because you're so hard-headed,
Jim."
Smiling whimsically, she glanced at his frayed
watch ribbon.
“I see you haven't found the answer yet. Tell
me everything you have learned while you have been
torturing that poor ribbon."


248
THE GRAY MASK
LOSW
se
“Ghosts or not, Nora,” he answered, “ the house
isn't healthy, and I'd rather you didn't stay."
She laughed and walked in. Shrugging his shoul-
ders, he followed her, closed the door, and told her
what had happened since he had telephoned the in-
spector. Her face, he noticed, had grown pale, and
a troubled look had entered her eyes. She shivered.
“What an uncomfortable place! I can guess
what Clara meant. Don't you get an impression
of great suffering, Jim?”.
He was familiar with her superstitious sensibility
which at times seemed nearly psychic. It irritated
him that to his own matter-of-fact mind the house
had from the first conveyed a sense of unhealth.
As he started to laugh at her, Nora with a quick
movement shrank against the wall.
“What's that?” she whispered.
Garth strained forward, listening, too. He had
heard what Clara had described, a crying, smothered
and scarcely audible, and he knew what the girl had
meant when she had spoken of a voice from the
grave — a dead voice.
Across the moaning cut a shrill feminine scream.
“Stay here," Garth called to Nora as he started
up the stairs.
He heard her voice, like an echo behind him, as
full of misgivings as Clara's had been.
“I am afraid."
At the foot of the attic stairs he saw the white
figure of Mrs. Taylor, staring upward, trembling,
hysterical, a violent fear in her eyes.


THE KNIFE
249
“You heard it, too,” she breathed. “It wasn't
the wind."
With a shuddering gesture she indicated McDon-
ald's still form.
“He isn't dead,” Garth said.
While she relaxed a little the fear in her eyes
didn't diminish.
“I — I heard her moan,” she said. “I opened
my door, and there she was — a black thing —
bending over him like — like a vampire. I couldn't
seem to see her face. She ran up these stairs, and
I could see through the banisters that she went in
the big attic room — the room they always talked
about where the woman -”.
She broke off, screaming sharply again.
“Look out! Back of you! There's something
black creeping up the stairs --"


252
THE GRAY MASK
“The wound is nothing," the doctor said in an-
swer to his question, “but he's had a slight paralytic
stroke from the shock.”
“When," Garth asked eagerly, “will he be able
to talk?"
“Certainly not for several days," the doctor an-
swered. “I'll carry him to his room and make him
as comfortable as possible.”
As Garth went on down, helpless and bewildered,
he heard again the old woman's jibing laugh. It
assumed the quality of a threat as he searched un-
successfully the cellar and the back part of the house.
He met Nora in the library. Mrs. Taylor and she
had found no more than Garth. As they talked,
Reed's tall figure appeared in the doorway. Garth
had supposed the man had gone home immediately
after bringing Mrs. Taylor from the station.
“What are you doing here?” he demanded.
Reed yawned.
“Mrs. Taylor and this young lady woke me up
searching through the spare bedroom in which I
was resting. They were after a woman in black.
That sounds rather silly, doesn't it? I've heard
Taylor drool about his pet guest — lady in black,
strangled in attic by jealous husband. I see you're
surprised to find me still here. I thought it was
understood I should stay and be of what help I could
to Mrs. Taylor and her mother."
“Then I'm afraid you'll have to stay for some
time," Garth answered dryly. “The house is
guarded. No one will be permitted to leave until


THE STAINED ROBE 253
I have found or accounted for McDonald's daugh-
ter."
“ Clever girl that!” Reed said indifferently.
“Never heard her open her mouth."
He took a book from a shelf and seated himself
in a comfortable chair by the lamp.
“If I can be of any use you'll find me here or in
my room."
“ I'm wondering," Garth answered, “if Clara
knows anything about McDonald's daughter. For
to-night the back part of the house interests me."
At his nod Nora followed him into the hall.
“ Apparently Reed knows nothing," Nora said.
“But the old woman — "
" I'm thinking about the room where Taylor's
body lies,” Garth replied. “From the first an at-
tempt seems to have been made to color the case
with the supernatural. The wording of Taylor's
note, for instance. An illusion is furnished us that
it was written after the man's death. That is fol-
lowed by another illusion that his cold hand wounded
McDonald with the knife. And this crying! The
complete disappearance of the black figure almost
under our eyes! I grant you it's a moldy, un-
healthy house, but it can't shelter such miracles.
These phases are clearly manifestations of some
abnormal criminality. I have to work on physical
lines. The black figure proves that the woman is
actually hidden here. The knife on Taylor's bed
means that the murderer was in the room this eve-
ning. McDonald's gesture, instead of accusing,


254
THE GRAY MASK
probably tried to tell me that; tried to warn me,
perhaps, that the murderer would return again to
the body. I didn't tell Reed the truth. I am going
to that room about which nearly everything centers.
Before the night is over it may tell me what Mc-
Donald tried to say. There at any rate my mind
should be more receptive to that flash of intuition
I need to make some theory fit this mystery. Since
the house is clearly dangerous, Nora, I want you
to go home."
Her laugh was uncomfortable, but Garth recog-
“I'll see it through, thanks,” she said. “I want
this sense of suffering destroyed. I want — you
don't know how anxious I am — to see the case
put on a physical basis. So I'll watch with you."
Since he failed to alter her determination. He
sent her upstairs to make sure no one was spying,
for he wanted their entrance of the room of death
to remain a secret. She beckoned him from the
head of the stairs, and he went up, and they entered
the black room.
Garth closed the door and snapped his light on.
Immediately strange reflections played again over
the face of the dead man. Its sneering expression
seemed to follow Garth as he moved about, search-
ing in the closets and the bath room, looking behind
each piece of furniture. Meantime Nora waited,
for the moment stripped of her familiar confidence.
She watched the dead man rather than Garth. The


THE STAINED ROBE 255
knife and the revolver, close to the cold and motion-
less hand, appeared to fascinate her.
“No one," Garth whispered. “No evidence,
beyond the knife, that any one has been here un-
lawfully."
He removed the cushions from a lounge and ar-
ranged them in a window recess. He seated him-
self with Nora there. He drew the curtains so that
they would be thoroughly concealed from any one
entering the room. Then he snapped off the light.
The vigil, Garth realized nearly at once, would
not be comfortable. Nora's obvious tenseness en-
couraged him to morbid fancies, to formidable
premonitions. The heavy black silence of the decay-
ing house became more oppressive. The near pres-
ence of the soulless thing on the bed, which had
yielded to him the puzzling note, seemed through
the night capable of a malicious and unique activity.
Garth, in spite of himself, became expectant of some
abnormal and impossible movement in the room.
Nora, he knew, listened with him. Once she whis-
pered:
“ Haven't you a feeling there is some one here
who laughs at us?”.
The old woman's atrocious mirth came back to
him.
“Hush. It is better even not to whisper."
The minutes loitered. The silence grew thicker,
the presence of Taylor's body more oppressive.
Then suddenly through the night Garth became


256
THE GRAY MASK
finally aware of a movement in the room, and at
first it seemed to be in keeping with the supernatural
fears Nora had imposed on him.
He aroused himself. He commenced to reason.
He had not heard the door open or close, but the
intruder must have entered that way. Again his
ears caught a sly scraping sound as of one walking
stealthily, and the sound was nearer the bed — be-
tween the window recess and the bed. Garth thrust
his revolver and his lamp through the narrow open-
ing between the curtains and pressed the control.
There was no more shuffling. Nora swayed closer.
The light revealed all of Garth's doubts. He be-
came efficient again. For, while there was a ghoul-
like quality about the picture his lamp had suddenly
illuminated, the figure bending over the body was
sufficiently human. In this position, however, be-
cause of the dressing gown and the slippers, its sex
remained undefined, but Garth, remembering his ex-
amination of the housekeeper's room, thought he
knew. Yet he couldn't understand what the creature
was doing. One hand had partly drawn from be-
neath the mattress what appeared to be a long and
wide piece of jet black cloth.
“Game's up!” Garth said. “I've got you.
Turn around and let me have a look at your pretty
face."
The bent shoulders twitched.
“Come!" Garth said harshly. “You're no
ghost. You can't evaporate before our eyes again.”
Then with a gesture of repulsion the hand let the


THE. STAINED ROBE
261
¡Later the humility of Nora's interest amused
foarth. He told her frankly how the pivotal pieces
of the puzzle had been within reach long before
Reed had tried in Mrs. Taylor's service to recover
and destroy the tell-tale black gown.
“Those sedatives in Taylor's bathroom," he
said. “The man's perpetual questioning of his
doctor about the symptoms and the treatment of
insanity, the moans which frightened the other ser-
vants without affecting McDonald or his daughter,
the old lady's exaggeration of her eccentricities to
draw my attention from Mrs. Taylor — any of
these clues ought to have reminded us, Nora, of
the hundreds of similar cases in New York of fond
relatives who, through a mistaken pride, hide and
treat in their own homes such cases of mental dis-
order."
He scarcely needed to outline for her the picture,
filled in by the old lady, of that black hour last
night in the melancholy house, when Mrs. Taylor
had tricked McDonald's daughter — a competent
trained nurse - had escaped from the attic sick-
room, and had got the revolver. Garth saw that
Nora, too, could fancy Taylor's panic and self-re-
proach as he lay sick and helpless in bed, knowing
his wife was free, foreseeing inevitably much the
sort of thing that had happened, trying when it was
too late to confess his mistake, to warn the au-
thorities that his wife was at large and, possibly,
dangerous.
“But she didn't give him time to write enough,"


CHAPTER XIX
PAYMENT IS DEMANDED FOR THE GRAY MASK
THE approach of the moment when she must
testify against Slim and George; must tell in
public the details of that tragedy which had
played such havoc with her, drove Nora into a mor-
bid humor which neither Garth nor the inspector
could alter. She followed Garth on the stand.
She was dressed in black. The appeal of her per.
sonality was irresistible. It was clear that if the
two criminals had ever had a chance Nora would
destroy it.
Slim and George sat by their counsel. George
could not quite hide the animal character of his face,
but he had managed to soften it somewhat. Evi-
dently he endeavoured to impress the jurors with
the idea that he was a good-natured fellow who had
been involved in the case through some curious
mischance. At Nora's appearance, Garth noticed,
there came into his eyes a survival of the passion
he had so recklessly declared in the steel-lined room.
Slim, on the other hand, let slip nothing of the
criminal. His quiet clothing gave him an air al-
most clerical. His sharp features expressed a
polite interest. He could not, a casual spectator
264


266
THE GRAY MASK
The moment he answered the summons he knew
something disastrous had occurred. He felt that
the exceptional, almost with the effect of a physical
violence, had entered the room ahead of him.
The inspector held the telephone. The receiver
was at his ear. His huge figure projected to Garth
an uncontrolled fear. His voice, customarily rum-
bling and authoritative, was no more than a groping
whisper.
“Why the devil doesn't Nora answer? Do you
know, Garth, that Slim and George are loose on the
town?”
Garth started back. He would have responded
just so to a blow in the face.
“ They are on their way to the death house,”
he countered.
"You mean they were,” the inspector said, “con-
demned by your testimony and Nora's.”
His voice rose and thickened.
“I've just got the word. An explosion was
planted in front of their van on the way to the
Grand Central. There was a crowd of rats from
the slums. Those birds were torn from the sheriff's
men, and their bracelets knocked off. They were
spirited away. But don't you suppose Slim and
George would gamble I'll never let them out of this
town? Every exit's barred now. They know their
liberty's only good to pay old debts. What'll they
do at the start?"
Garth braced himself against the desk.


PAYMENT IS DEMANDED 267
“They'll go for Nora first. Then they'll get
me. I've been afraid of it all along."
“ I'm trying to warn her," the inspector raged.
“ She doesn't answer."
He shouted into the transmitter:
“Are you all dead out there? Get me that num-
ber, or by heaven -”.
While the inspector stormed to be put in com-
munication with his daughter Garth tried to plan.
Could he devise any useful defence against Slim's
imagination, abnormally clever and inscrutable; or
against such naked brutality as George's? And
the malevolence of these two would be all the more
certain in its action since no fear of punishment
would restrain it. The murder, or worse, of Garth
and Nora, which undoubtedly they intended, could
earn for them only the death penalty to which they
were already condemned.
“You've got to get Nora," Garth urged the in-
spector. “The servant at least should be there."
“Her afternoon out, and Nora said she would
be home."
“Then,” Garth cried, “they made for her like
a shot.”
He turned and strode to the door.
“Where are you going, Jim?"
“Keep after that number," Garth called back.
“If you get Nora tell her I'm on the way, and to
sit tight."
The inspector tried to stop him.


270
THE GRAY MASK
Nora, and Garth knew how devious those windings
were — what silent and invisible machinery would
nourish and secrete and protect.
He lifted a tiny tuft of fur which had nestled,
almost hidden, in the dust of the gutter. He ex-
amined it closely. It's colour and texture were
reminiscent of the muff he had frequently seen Nora
carry. It might be a souvenir of her struggle, or
else —
He arose and walked down the street, searching
every inch of the pavement. At the corner his
breath quickened, for he knew the piece of fur had
not rested in the gutter by accident. Two others
were there, trampled, but suggestive of the direction
taken by the automobile. He could picture Nora
surreptitiously tearing the bits from her muff and
dropping them from the window of the car.
He hastened on. As soon as he was confident
the pieces constituted an intelligible trail he con-
quered his impatience long enough to enter a drug
store and telephone his discovery to the inspector.
“ I'm going on,” he explained. “The Lord
knows what I'll find, so get after me right away."
The voice that reached him could not conceal
its suspense.
“Go fast, Garth, and I'll follow with every
man I can raise. Pull Nora out of this and ask me
for my badge."
Garth went on, following the trail into the dark
and intricate thoroughfares of the lower east side,
knowing that each moment his pursuit might be


272
THE GRAY MASK
He glanced around. There was no policeman ini
sight. He saw only half a dozen pedestrians —
shambling creatures who appeared to seek the plen-
tiful darkness. The neighboring warehouses, the
pier opposite, frowned back at him. The lapping
of the water was expectant. Yet high in the air
two brilliant arches were suspended across a slight
mist. They were restless with blurred movement.
Constantly they lowered into this somber pit an in-
cessant murmuring, like an echo, heard at a dis-
tance, from some complicated and turbulent indus-
try.
These crowded bridges, his desolate surroundings,
assumed a phantasmal quality for Garth. The only
real world lay beyond those sloping, silent doors
which had been swung back to admit Nora.
While he looked a figure detached itself from the
shadows at the corner of the warehouse. It moved,
lurching, in his direction. He could only see that
the newcomer was in rags with unkempt hair, and
features, sunken and haggard. He grasped his re-
volver, suspecting that this vagabond exterior dis-
guised a member of the gang — an outpost. Yet
there was a chance that the man was one of the
neighborhood's multitude of derelicts — a purveyor,
possibly, of valuable information.
“Come here, my friend," he called. “How
long have you been loafing in that corner ?"
The other hesitated. When he answered his
voice was without resonance -- scarcely more than
an exaggerated whisper.


276
THE GRAY MASK
frequently they had emerged successful, unharmed.
He held his revolver ready. He moved to one
side and paused. For some moments the silence
was broken only by the drumming of his pulse in
his ears. He realized it was not unlikely that the
cellar was empty save for himself. The men might
have led Nora into it as a trick to confuse the police.
Nora's cry might have marked their departure by
some ingeniously contrived exit. As his own im-
mediate danger appeared to diminish his disappoint-
ment and anxiety increased. He had been prepared
to risk everything for Nora. As if it had actually
been prolonged to this moment, her cry still vibrated
in his brain. Inaction was no longer bearable. He
must assure himself that the cellar was, indeed,
empty. He must find that exit and continue his
pursuit. He stepped forward.
Light flashed, and from the sudden, sparkling
confusion a remembered laugh jeered at him.


CHAPTER XX
THE BLACK CAP
VOUR shadowy figures stood in front of him,
í holding flashlights. Behind the blinding
barrier he could make out Nora, crouched
against a stained and rugged wall. And the brute,
George, was at her side, his muscular hands on her
arm. Slim stepped out of the obscurity, moving
for Garth with a stealth and an evenness nearly
cat-like.
Garth raised his revolver, strengthened by the
knowledge that the inspector with many men would
soon be tearing through the cellar doors. If only
he could postpone the issue for himself - fight for
time until that saving moment! There lay Nora's
best chance, but her ignorance of such a possibility
couldn't account for the horror in her customarily
expressionless face.
“It's no use," she screamed. “Get back, Jim!
Quick! Through the door!”.
Slim was so close that Garth could see the auto-
matic held at his hip.
“You'll stick here, Garth,” came the smooth
tones. “And you might's well drop your gun."
Garth saw George's hands tighten on Nora's arm.
277


278
THE GRAY MASK
CO
He understood then the real threat by which they
would control him.
"Hands off the girl!” he said.
But George smiled, and pressed tighter until Nora
cried out involuntarily.
“That means, drop your gun. For any little
damage you do here Nora'll foot the bill."
She shook her head, but her face recorded an in-
sufferable pain. Garth knew that the one shot for
which he would have time would spare her noth-
ing.
“I never expected to see the pride of your
gang slinking behind a woman's skirts," he sneered.
“I suppose those are four of the rats who helped
put your breakaway over. Six against one, and a
woman for a shield!"
It chilled him that the four strangers exposed
their faces to his glance with a contemptuous in-
difference. He laughed, however, as Slim took his
revolver.
." You giants must know that you haven't the
chance of a pretzel at a Dutch wedding."
Slim affected not to have heard, but his gestures
lacked smoothness.
“Let's see how you enjoy your own jewelry,
Garth.”
And he reached in Garth's pocket and drew out
the pair of handcuffs he had been certain to find
there. He snapped them on the detective's wrists.
The four confederates lounged forward, produced
stout cords, and bound them about Garth's ankles.


THE BLACK CAP
279
His momentary resistance was smothered by Nora's
sharp cry:
“Don't fight, Jim!”
His sense of utter helplessness increased, while
the men, in obedience to Slim's gestures, stretched
him on the floor. The surface was wet, as if the
ooze of the river had penetrated this far. Slim
stooped and glared at him, his eyes exposing a meas-
ureless resentment.
“Thanks for walking into our parlor, you fly
cop. We heard how you and the skirt had fallen
for each other. We guessed if we gave you a lead
with some of her trinklets, you'd play the busy
sleuth hound.”
Nora's voice held the quality of a sob.
“Jim! Why did you come?"
He shrugged his shoulders. He forced on him-
self a semblance of confidence.
“ Planted or not, the trail was my best chance."
Slim beckoned to George.
“ Straight you've come to the place where I've
dreamed for months of getting you."
Garth managed a grin.
“ Cut out the bum acting, Slim. Let's hear what
you've got on your mind.”
He shrank from a reply. More and more he was
impressed by the indifference with which these con-
federates constantly revealed their faces. He
knew, if the inspector did not arrive quickly, he must
suffer an eccentric and barbarous punishment. He
tried to forecast the penalty, but his imagination


280
THE GRAY MASK
was insufficient and his appraisal of Slim's cruelty
too conservative. It wasn't until George stepped
forward and Nora screamed that he guessed why
the others were unafraid of his identification, that
he understood how his situation might involve more
than life and death. And, perhaps, the shambling
creature outside had put the inspector's party on the
wrong track.
George placed a pint bottle in Slim's hand. A
smoky liquid did not quite fill it. Slim turned to
the others, assuming an attitude of mockery.
“This is the brave guy that side-tracked Simmons
last summer and wore the gray mask just as if he
had something, too, that would frighten women and
children. He's the bull that steered us against the
black cap yesterday. Let's see how he likes hear-
ing the sentence read himself. Only he isn't going
to get anything as comfortable as the electric chair."
A laugh sneered through the cellar.
“ Better speed it up, Slim," George advised.
Slim drew the cork from the bottle while his thin
lips ceased to smile.
“Since you found a gray mask so becoming,
Garth,” he snarled, “it's only fair to give you hon-
est cause to wear one. But you'll go poor Simmons
one better. Your mask won't need any eye holes.”
Nora cried out again.
“You couldn't do it,” Garth muttered.
Beneath his rage lurked a fear of which he had
never dreamed himself capable. To face death
would have been so much simpler.


THE BLACK CAP
281
“What's in that bottle, Slim?"
“A black cap for you, damn you! Pure vitriol!”
He bent closer.
“ Squirm! Those ropes and your own handcuffs
will hold you. You'll beg me for a bullet before
I'm through.”
George twisted the girl so she had to watch.
“Pipe your handsome beau, Nora! You'll think
I'm more your style in about ten seconds."
She shuddered.
“You're not bad enough to do that, Slim!”
“Watch me," he answered.
A complete satisfaction blotted from his eyes the
fear he had hitherto never quite concealed - the
quiet fear of a strong man who acknowledges his
own inevitable destiny. Garth reminded him of
that. It was his last weapon.
“They'll get you, Slim. They're keeping the
chair warm for you. Will this help then?".
Slim laughed.
“Will it hurt? I've waited for this moment
ever since you and she sent me to rot in the Tombs.
I'll pay old scores while I can.”
With an extreme deliberation he commenced to
tip the bottle. The fluid, almost imperceptibly ap-
proaching the mouth, exercised for Garth a dread-
ful fascination. It was easy to estimate its prog-
ress. George had been right. In about ten sec-
onds! And he couldn't get his chained hands to his
eyes. He tried to tell himself it was impossible
that that innocent-appearing fluid in the control of


282
THE GRAY MASK
this criminal could condemn him to an unrelieved
blackness through which, hideously scarred, he must
grope henceforth, a thing repellent and past use.
The lights were centred upon his face. It struck
him as ironic that their glare should hurt his
eyes.
Suddenly Nora sprang forward. She stretched
her hand towards Slim, but she didn't touch the
bottle or his wrist, for the fluid filled the neck; was
so close to the edge that a quick contact might have
spilled it. George looked on, his hands in his
pockets, his attitude expressing satisfaction at a just
and long-deferred punishment.
Slim smiled at Nora. He moved the bottle a
little. A drop fell. Something tortured the skin
of Garth's cheek. It was as if an iron at white
heat had been applied against his flesh with a strong
pressure. The stuff was real enough.
Again Slim moved the bottle sluggishly, so that
the liquid, ready to trickle out, was directly above
Garth's eyes. Nora reached and closed her hands
about the mouth.
“ Look out!” George warned. “You'll get
burnt."
"You see, George won't stand for that,” Slim
said slily.
“No, no, Slim!” Nora whispered. “I'll bar-
gain."
" You're in a swell position to bargain,” George
scoffed.
The handcuffs cut into Garth's wrists.


CK CAP
THE BLACK CAP
283
“You don't think," he muttered, “ that I was
fool enough to follow that trail without covering
myself?"
“That doesn't affect me," Slim grinned.
“There's a getaway from this place no cop will
ever find. Now, Nora! Hands off !”
But she resisted him.
“Slim," she said breathlessly. “You're not a
fool. You must know that I can bargain. Suppose
you got clear — across the border - into Canada ?
Couldn't you keep out of trouble once you were
there?"
Slim ceased pulling at her hands. He stared at
her, amazed, casting aside his last pretence.
“What you talking about, Nora? I know you're
clever, but there aren't any more miracles. There's
no way out of this town for us.”
Her voice was barely audible.
“ Unless my father unlocked the gates."
Slim started. Garth, too, answered to a desire
almost violent. Surely Slim would realize the hope-
lessness of securing the inspector's complicity, or,
failing that, would seek, as Garth did, for the
stratagem behind her plan. Slim, nevertheless, con-
tinued to study her, and the narrow face no longer
hid his greed for life.
"There's no way under heaven to get the old man
to stand for that.”
She took her hands from the bottle. Her eyes
did not waver.
“No one else could do it, but you know how he


284
THE GRAY MASK
it,
nt.
and
loves me. I could make him do it as the price
for myself and Jim."
Slim laughed shortly.
“One thing's certain," he mused. “If you did
get away with it, I could keep you and the inspector
straight. I'd take Garth, bound tight, some guns,
and the acid along as gilt-edge securities. Hadn't
thought of that, eh? Expected to trip me, didn't
you? Well, Nora, you have let yourself in for a
dicker, and, by gad I'm inclined to think it over,
because I've got you this far: the minute you played
queer Garth would go blind and burnt.”
Nora conquered her disappointment.
“You'd swear to let Jim go at the border ? "
“On my oath I'd let him go clean."
“Not for a million," George broke in angrily.
“She gets herself away, then she throws Garth down
to see us roast in the chair. You ought to know
the skirt. She'd double cross the devil himself."
Garth waited for Slim's answer, his gaze con-
trolled again by the acid.
“George," Slim said slowly, “any chance is
worth playing now, for we're as good as in the
chair already. And I don't believe she'd throw
Garth down. You know what she went through
with for the sake of a dead lover."
“You've got to show me," George sneered, “ that
she's forgotten the dead one to take on Garth.”
“We heard in the Tombs," Slim said drily, “ that
these pigeons wanted to roost on the same stool.”
With a growing wonder Garth watched Nora Aling


THE BLACK CAP
285
aside her reserve. She turned on George, raising
her hands in an attitude of fury, as if inspired by
a passion beyond her control.
“And that's true. If you think I'd let him take
that acid give the bottle to me, and I'll use it on
myself instead.”
She knelt at Garth's side, and for a moment the
light in her eyes, her unrestraint, more than the re-
sult of her appeal, held him tense.
“Tell them, Jim," she cried. “If they made
you that way I swear I'd kill myself.”.
She glanced up, tears in her eyes.
“I love him so much, Slim, that to save him I'd
see my father dead.”
A subdued murmur of voices sifted through from
the street. They could hear the stealthy straining
of hands at the cellar doors. Nora arose, and, hid-
ing her face, stood trembling.
“The bulls !” George whispered. “Throw the
stuff and let's make our getaway.”
Slim shook his head.
“I tell you it's a chance. All of you vamoose
except Gecrge. We'll wait and see, and maybe we
won't need you after this. Remember, Nora,
there'll always be time for us to wash Garth's face
and show our heels.”
“Oh, I know it," she breathed. “I know it."
The lights snapped out. Garth was aware of
clandestine stirrings. Then the silence of the cellar
was broken only by the fumbling at the door.
“ I'll let you go, Nora,” Slim whispered. “Send


THE BLACK CAP
289
pect him to take it at its real value, but he could
not shake off the recollection of her emotion. With
a great longing he watched her move into the shad-
ows beyond the door.
cious
father
ve us
oice
Ofer


CHAPTER XXI
THE ANTICS OF A TRAIN
Ta gesture from Slim, George cut the cords
that bound Garth's ankles. The detective
rose. With a nod Slim motioned George to-
wards the oak door which opened on Marlowe's
cellar.
“Get to the 'phone," he whispered. “Pass the
fair word, and bring the wheels here on the minute."
He swung on the detective.
“ If you see anybody upstairs, just keep your back
turned so they won't notice your pretty bracelets."
Garth shivered, aware that a new and disquiet.
ing element had entered the situation.
Slim indicated the revolver, held ready in his
coat pocket.
“After George, and in front of me. Always
like that from now on."
He touched the bottle of acid which he had taken
from George.
“Remember this will be behind you like my gun,
but I don't want to shoot to kill with either. Just
a little in the face is better if you try to cut up."
“ You heard my promise," Garth said.
He followed George through the doorway, re-
290


THE ANTICS OF A TRAIN
291
sisting continually the impulse to turn around, to
assure himself of what he already knew, that Slim
was actually alert each moment to discipline his
slightest effort at escape.
They crossed the damp spaces of the cellar and
climbed the stairs, pausing at the head until they
could be certain Marlowe's evil figure still faced a
bar-room, significantly empty.
George hurried to the telephone booth, fastening
the door behind him so that Garth could hear noth-
ing. Marlowe wiped his hands on his apron. A
sly smile twitched at the corners of his colorless
lips.
“Well! Well! Who's rented the warehouse?
Who are your pals, Mr. Garth ? "
Garth kept his back turned. The glasses tinkled
musically under Marlowe's nervous fingers.
“Maybe you'll name your pleasure, gentlemen.”
“Nothing but a little quiet," Slim grunted.
Marlowe flung up his hands, indicating a pro-
found disapproval.
“ Then what you mean coming through my cellar?
That might get me in bad with the cops. Or may-
be you're detectives like Mr. Garth?"
Slim responded to the strain of this waiting. He
turned angrily on the man.
“How often have I told you, Papa Marlowe, to
keep your fat mouth shut?"
For Garth that outburst pitilessly defined the new
element. Slim's anger had let slip real evidence of
the proprietor's lawless connection with the gang;


THE ANTICS OF A TRAIN 293
the smaller one. Slim motioned George and Garth
into the car, followed them, and, while he jerked
out his instructions, drew down the side curtains.
Garth was to sit on the back seat with George, who
would keep one hand conveniently on his automatic.
Slim would be opposite, his gun handy, and the bot.
tle of acid ready at his side.
“And that isn't all," he leered. “You're too
precious to take chances with. Here! Lean for-
ward."
He flung the chauffeur's great coat across Garth's
shoulders, and, over his chained wrists, buttoned
it tight about him. He chuckled as the car started.
“The cape, George, makes it look as if our friend
kept his hands out of sight for warmth. Let's hope
the train'll be a little chilly, too. Your arms are
going to sleep and get a nice rest, Garth.”
He chuckled again. He took his own handker-
chief and borrowed George's. With the two he im-
provised a gag which he fastened skillfully in the
prisoner's mouth. Then he turned the great collar
up so that the gag was hidden.
“You've a swell chance to make trouble now,
Garth. That's how I check up on a bull's promises.
If anybody tries to stop us or to snitch you free
you'll get the acid in those shining peepers without
being able to move. You'd better pray everybody
keeps straight.”
Enough light entered from the front to draw an
ashen glow from the acid which he held at his side
perpetually ready.


296
THE GRAY MASK
minable string of mail and express cars and Pull-
mans, shrouded for the night.
At the very end, far from the station lamps, were
two lighted day coaches. Slim and George led
Garth there, and helped him to the platform be-
tween. The rear car was a smoker, comfortably
filled with sleepy men. Slim turned his back on it,
urging Garth into the car ahead which housed
scarcely more than a dozen passengers — men and
women in various attitudes of somnolence. He
nodded his satisfaction. It became clear that for
him the gravest strain was at an end. And the car
was chilly. The dozing passengers wore wraps and
hats. The fact that Garth retained his great coat
would pass unnoticed.
When they were settled as before with Slim op-
posite Garth and George, and the acid held ready
in the corner of the seat, the detective ventured
with one last hope to appraise his neighbors. A
man opposite lounged on his cushion, his paper fallen
to the floor, his eyes closed, his head swaying drunk-
enly in unison with the motion of the train. Far-
ther back two women in deep mourning wept quietly
from time to time, and a man and a woman across
the aisle stared restlessly at them, speaking in low
tones whose accents of pity alone reached Garth.
The rest slept. The face of none was recognizable,
nor did any suggest the slightest interest in the new
arrivals. Garth resented their innocuous compan-
ionship. It was not to be believed that their ignor-
ance should permit this flight, which, at its termina-


THE ANTICS OF A TRAIN 301
brakeman the signals we had arranged in New
York."
The inspector's wink was brazen.
“That's a bright girl by you, Garth,” he grunted.
“ Guess it's time I enjoyed a cigar again. So long,
children.”
He drifted down the aisle.
Garth wanted to tell Nora of his gratitude, real.
izing how far beyond expression that lay. With
a smile she stopped his awkward attempts.
"I think I know what you would say, Jim. It
was nothing — only what I had to do.”
All at once he looked away. He had caught in
her smile a new, untrammeled quality.
“Why do you look away, Jim?" she asked softly.
He turned back. He tried to meet her eyes.
“Things can't be the same," he said hoarsely.
“I know I'm a beast to speak of it. I know you
expect me to take what you did in the cellar as act-
ing. But, Nora, lying there as I was, it made me
happier than I ever have been in my life.”
He looked straight at her.
“Tell me how you managed such acting.”
Her lips trembled.
“I- I think nobody could act like that."
He saw the tears in her eyes. She closed them.
“While I was doing it," she went on," it came
to me that it wasn't acting at all.”
There was no one to see the quick surrender of
her hands.
THE END