Ashton-Kirk, Investigator
John Thomas McIntyre


















"JUST AS I THOUGHT"


ASHTON-KIRK
INVESTIGATOR
BY
John T. Mclntyre
Author of "In the Dead of Night," &c.
ILLUSTRATIONS BY
RALPH L. BOYER
THE PENN PUBLISHING
COMPANY PHILADELPHIA
1910


. A l- » 4■/*. $-./><>
Harvard Oolieqre Library
May 27, 10.3
By Exchange
COPYRIGHT
1910 BY
THE PENN
PUBLISHING
COMPANY


To my Friend
GRANT GIBNEY


INTRODUCTION
Ashton-Kirk, who has solved so many mysteries,
is himself something of a problem even to those
who know him best. Although young, wealthy,
and of high social position, he is nevertheless an
indefatigable worker in his chosen field. He
smiles when men call him a detective. "No; only
an investigator," he says.
He has never courted notoriety; indeed, his life
has been more or less secluded. However, let a
man do remarkable work in any line and, as
Emerson has observed, "the world will make a
beaten path to his door."
Those who have found their way to Ashton-
Kirk's door have been of many races and interests.
Men of science have often been surprised to find
him in touch with the latest discoveries, scholars
searching among strange tongues and dialects,
and others deep in tattered scrolls, ancient tablets
and forgotten books have been his frequent visi-
tors. But among them come many who seek his
help in solving problems in crime.
"I'm more curious than some other fellows,
that's all," is the way he accounts for himself.
'' If a puzzle is put in front of me I can't rest
s


6
INTRODUCTION
till I know the answer." At any rate his natural
bent has always been to make plain the mysterious;
each well hidden step in the perpetration of a
crime has always been for him an exciting lure;
and to follow a thread, snarled by circumstances
or by another intelligence has been, he admits, his
chief delight.
There are many strange things to be written of
this remarkable man—but this, the case of the
numismatist Hume, has been selected as the first
because it is one of the simplest, and yet clearly
illustrates Ashton-Kirk's peculiar talents. It will
also throw some light on the question, often asked,
as to how his cases come to him.
A second volume that shows the investigator
deep in another mystery, even more intricate and
puzzling than this, is -entitled "Ashton-Kirk and
the Scarlet Scapular."


CONTENTS
CHAPTER PACK
I. Pendleton Calls upon AshtoN-
Kirk ......... II
II. Miss Edyth Vale States Her
Case . . .......... 24
III. The Portraits of General
Wayne ,. 39
IV. Stillman's Theory . . ,. ,. 63
V. Stillman Asks Questions . ,., 78
VI. Ashton-Kirk Looks About . 99
VII. The Schwartz-Michael Bay-
onet 117
VIII. The Newspapers Begin to Play
Their Part 127
IX. Miss Vale Tells What She
Knows 135
X. Ashton-Kirk Asks Questions . 147
XI. Pendleton is Vastly Enlight-
ened 159
XII. Antonio Spatola Appears . . 175
XIII. A New Light on Allan Morris 183


CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
XIV. Miss Vale Unexpectedly Ap-
pears 196
XV. Miss Vale Departs Suddenly . 212
XVI. Steel Against Steel . . . 220
XVII. What Happened on the Road . 227
XVIII. Ashton-Kirk Tells Why . . 236
XIX. The Two Reports .... 246
XX. One of the Old Sort ,., . ,.. 255
XXI. Ashton-Kirk Begins to Plan . 266
XXII. Ashton-Kirk is Annoyed . . 273
XXIII. The Secret of the Portrait . 284
XXIV. The Second Night .... 297
XXV. Approaching the Finish . ,. 306
XXVI. The Finish . ,.. , . 319


ILLUSTRATIONS
PAGB
"Just as I thought" Frontispiece
"YOU DO NOT MEAN TO GO THERE" 50
He rapped smartly on the WINDOW . . . .214
What she saw must have startled her . . 301





Ashton-Kirk, Investigator
CHAPTER I
Pendleton Calls Upon Ashton-Kirk
Young Pendleton's car crept carefully around the
corner and wound in and out among the push-
cart men and dirty children.
About midway in the block was a square-built
house with tall, small-paned windows and check-
ered with black-headed brick. It stood slightly
back from the street with ancient dignity; upon
the shining door-plate, deeply bitten in angular
text, was the name "Ashton-Kirk."
Here the car stopped; Pendleton got out, as-
cended the white marble steps and tugged at the
polished, old-fashioned bell-handle.
A grave-faced German, in dark livery, opened
the door.
"Mr. Ashton-Kirk will see you, sir," said he.
"I gave him your telephone message as soon as
he came down."
"Thank you, Stumph," said Pendleton. And
with the manner of one perfectly acquainted with
the house, he ascended a massively balustraded
staircase. The walls were darkly paneled; from


12
ASHTON-KIRK
the shadowy recesses pictured faces of men and
women looked down at him.
Coming in from the littered street, with its
high smells and crowding, gesticulating people, the
house impressed one by its quiet, its spaciousness,
and the evident means and culture of its owner.
Pendleton turned off at the first landing, proceeded
along a passage and finally knocked at a door.
Without waiting for a reply, he walked in.
At the far end of a long, high-ceilinged apart-
ment a young man was lounging in an easy-chair.
At his elbow was a jar of tobacco, a sheaf of
brown cigarette papers and a scattering of books.
He lifted a keen dark face, lit up by singularly
brilliant eyes.
"Hello, Pen," greeted he. "You've come
just in time to smoke up some of this Greek
tobacco. Throw those books off that chair and
make yourself easy."
One by one Pendleton lifted the books and
glanced at the titles.
*' Your morning's reading, if this is such," com-
mented he, "is strikingly catholic. Plutarch,
Snarleyow, the Opium Eater, Martin Chuzzle-
wit." Then came a host of tattered pamphlets,
bound in shrieking paper covers, which the
speaker handled gingerly. "'The Crimes of An-
ton Probst,'" he continued to read, "' The Deeds
of the Harper Family,' 'The Murder of '"


INVESTIGATOR
13
here he paused, tossed the pamphlets aside with
contempt, sat down and drew the tobacco jar
toward him.
"Some of the results of your forays into the
basements of old booksellers, I suppose," he
added, rolling a cigarette with delicate ease.
"But what value you see in such things is beyond
me."
Ashton-Kirk smiled good-humoredly. He took
up some of the pamphlets and fluttered their illy-
printed pages.
"They are not beautiful," he admitted; "the
paper could not be worse and the wood cuts are
horrors. But they are records of actual things—
striking things, as a matter of fact—for a mur-
der which so lifts itself above the thousands of
homicides that are yearly occurring, as to gain
a place outside the court records and newspapers,
must have been one of exceptional execution."
"There is a public which delights in being hor-
rified," said Pendleton with a grimace. "The
things are put out to get their nickels and dimes."
"No doubt^" agreed the other. "And the
fact that they are willing to pay their nickels and
dimes is, to my way of thinking, a proof of the
extraordinary nature of the crime chronicled."
The speaker dropped the prints upon the floor
and lounged back in his big chair. "There is
Plutarch," he continued; "the account of the


14
ASHTON-KIRK
assassination of Cassar is not the least interesting
thing in his biography of that statesman. In-
deed, I have no doubt but that the chronicler
thought Caesar's taking off the most striking inci-
dent in his career; that the Roman public thought
so is a matter of history.
"Countless writers have dwelt upon the taking
of human life; some of them were rather commer-
cial gentlemen who always gave an ear to the
demands of their public, and their screeds were
written for the money that they would put in
their pockets; but others, and by long odds the
greatest, were fascinated by their subjects. Both
Stevenson and Henley were powerfully drawn by
deeds of blood. Did you know they planned
a great book which was to contain a complete
account of the world's most remarkable homi-
cides? I'm sorry they never carried the thing out;
for I cannot conceive of two minds more fitted
to the task. They would have dressed every
event in the grimmest and most subtle horror;
why, the soul would have shuddered at each enor-
mity as shaped and presented by such masters."
Pendleton regarded his friend with candid dis-
taste.
"You are appalling to-day," said he. "If you
think it's the Greek tobacco, let me know. For I
have to mingle with other human beings, and I'd
scarcely care to get into your state of mind."


INVESTIGATOR 15
The strong, white teeth of Ashton-Kirk showed
in a quick smile.
"The tobacco was recommended by old
Hosko," he said, "and you'll find nothing violent
in it, no matter what you find in my conversa-
tion."
"What put you into such a frame of mind,
anyway? Something happened?"
But Ashton-Kirk shook his head.
"I don't know," said he. "In fact, I have been
strangely idle for the last fortnight. The most
exciting things that have appeared above my per-
sonal horizon have been a queer little edition of
Albertus-Magnus, struck off in an obscure printing
shop in Florence in the early part of the sixteenth
century, and a splendid, large paper Poe, to which
I fortunately happened to be a subscriber."
A volume of the Poe and the Albertus-Magnus
were lying at hand; Pendleton ignored the dumpy,
stained little Latin volume; its strong-smelling
leather binding and faded text had no attractions
for him. But he took up the Poe and began idly
turning its leaves.
"It is a mistake to suppose that some specific
thing must be the cause of an action, or a train
of thought," resumed the other, from the com-
fortable depths of his chair. "Sometimes thou-
sands of things go to the making of a single
thought, countless others to the doing of a single


i6
ASHTON-KIRK
deed. And yet again, a thing entirely unassoci-
ated with a result may be the beginning of the
result, so to speak. For example, a volume of
Henry James which I was reading last night might
be the cause of my turning to the literature of
assassination this morning; your friendly visit
may result in my coming in contact with a mur-
der that will make any of these," with a nod
toward the scattered volumes, "seem tame."
Pendleton threw away his cigarette and pro-
ceeded to roll another.
"It is my earnest desire to remain upon friendly
terms with you, Kirk," stated he, with a smile.
"Therefore, I will make no comment except to
say that your last reflection was entirely uncalled
for."
Lighting the cigarette, he turned the tall leaves
of the beautiful volume upon his knee.
*' This edition is quite perfection," he remarked
admiringly. "And I'm sorry that I was not
asked to subscribe. However," and Pendleton
glanced humorously at his friend. "I don't sup-
pose its beauty is what attracts you to-day. It is
because certain pages are spread with the records
of crime. I notice that this volume holds both
'The Murders in the Rue Morgue' and the
4 Mystery of Marie Roger.'"
"Right," smiled Ashton-Kirk. "I admit I
was browsing among the details of those two mas-


INVESTIGATOR 17
terpieces when you came in. A great fellow, Poe.
His peculiar imagination gave him a marvelous
grasp of criminal possibilities."
Ashton-Kirk took up the "Confessions of an
English Opium-Eater" and turned the leaves un-
til he came to "Murder Considered as One of
the Fine Arts."
"In some things I have detected an odd simi-
larity in the work of De Quincey and Poe. Mind
you, I say in some things. As to what entered
into the structure of an admirably conceived mur-
der they were as far apart as the poles. The
ideals of the ' Society of Connoisseurs in Murder'
must have excited in Poe nothing but contempt.
A coarse butchery—a wholesale slaughter was
received by this association with raptures; a pale-
eyed, orange-haired blunderer, with a ship carpen-
ter's mallet hidden under his coat, was hailed as
an artist.
"You don't find Poe wasting time on uncouth
monsters who roar like tigers, bang doors and
smear whole rooms with blood. His assassins had
a joy in planning their exploits as well as in the
execution of them. They were intelligent, secret,
sure. And in every case they accomplished their
work and escaped detection."
"You must not forget, however," complained
Pendleton, "that De Quincey's assassin, John Wil-
liams, was a real person, and his killings actual


ASHTON-KIRK
occurrences. Poe's workmen were creatures of
his imagination, their crimes, with the possible
exception of ' Marie Roget,' were purely fanciful.
The creator of the doer and the deed had a clear
field; and in that, perhaps, lies the superiority of
Poe."
Ashton-Kirk' sighed humorously.
"Perhaps," said he. "At any rate the select
crimes are usually the conceptions of men who
have no idea of putting them into execution. And
that, upon consideration, is a fortunate thing for
society. But, at the same time, it is most irri-
tating to a man of a speculative turn of mind.
Fiction teems with most splendid murders. Cap-
tain Marryat, in Snarleyow, created an almost
perfect horror in the attempted slaughter of the
boy Smallbones by the hag mother of Vanslyper-
ken; the lad's reversal of the situation and his
plunging a bayonet into the wrinkled throat,
makes the chapter an accomplishment difficult to
displace. Remember it?"
Pendleton arose and opened one of the win-
dows.
"Even the noise and smell of this street of yours
are grateful after what I have been listening to,"
said he. Then, after a moment spent in examin-
ing the adjacent outdoors, he added in a tone of
wonderment. "I say, Kirk, this is really a hole
of a place to live! Why don't you move?"


INVESTIGATOR
19
The other arose and joined him at the window.
Old-fashioned streets alter wonderfully after the
generations of the elect have passed; but when
Eastern Europe takes to dumping its furtive
hordes into one, the change is marked indeed. In
this one peddler's wagons replaced the shining
carriages of a former day—wagons drawn by
large-jointed horses and driven by bearded men
who cried their wares in strange, throaty voices.
Everything exhaled a thick, semi-oriental smell.
Dully painted fire-escapes clung hideously to the
fronts of the buildings; stagnant-looking men,
wearing their hats, leaned from bedroom win-
dows. The once decent hallways were smutted
with grimy hands; the wide marble steps were
huddled with alien, unclean people.
A splendidly spired church stood almost shoul-
3er to shoulder with the Ashton-Kirk house.
Once it had been a place of dignified Episcopal
worship; but years of neglect had made it un-
wholesome and cavern-like; and finally it was
given over to a tribe of stolid Lithuanians who
stuck a cheaply gilded Greek cross over the door
and thronged the street with their wedding and
christening processions.
"Perhaps," said Ashton-Kirk, after a moment's
study of the prospect, "yes, perhaps It is a hole
of a place in which to live. But you see we've
had this house since shortly after the Revolution;


20
ASHTON-KIRK
four generations have been born here. As I have
no fashionable wife and I live alone, I am content
to stay. Then, the house suits me; everything
is arranged to my taste. The environment may
not be the most desirable; but, my visitors are sel-
dom of the sort that object to externals."
"Well, you have one just now who is not
what you might call partial to such neighbor-
hoods," said Pendleton. "And," looking at his
watch, "you will shortly have another who will
be, perhaps, still less favorably impressed."
"Ah!" said Ashton-Kirk.
He curled himself up upon the deep window
sill while Pendleton went back to his chair and the
tobacco.
"It's, a lady," resumed Pendleton, the brown
paper crackling between his fingers, "a lady of
condition, quality and beauty."
"It sounds pleasant enough," smiled the other.
"'But why is she coming?"
"To consult you—ah—I suppose we might call
it—professionally. No, I don't know what it is
about; but judging from her manner, it is some-
thing of no little consequence."
"She sent vou to prepare the way for her,
then?"
"Yes. It is Miss Edyth Vale, daughter of
James Vale, the 'Structural Steel King,' you re-
member they used to call him before he died a


INVESTIGATOR 21
few years ago. She was an only child, and ex-
cept for the four millions which he left to found
a technical school, she inherited everything. And
when you say everything in a case like this, it
means considerable."
Ashton-Kirk nodded.
"She is a distant relative of mine," resumed
Pendleton; "her mother was connected in some
vague way with my mother; and because of this
indefinite link, we've always been "—here he hesi-
tated for an instant—" well, rather friendly. Last
night we happened to meet at Upton's, and I took
her in to dinner. Edyth is a nice girl, but I've
noticed of late that she's not had a great deal to
say. Sort of quiet and big-eyed and all that, you
know. Seems healthy enough, but does a great
deal of thinking and looking away at nothing.
I've talked to her for ten minutes straight, only to
find that she hadn't heard a word I'd said.
"So, as you will understand, I did not expect
a great deal of her at dinner. But directly across
from us was young Cartwright"
"Employed in the Treasury Department?"
"That's the man. Well, he began to talk de-
partmental affairs with some one well down the
table—you know how some of these serious kids
are—and as there seemed to be nothing else to
do, I gave my whole attention to the interesting
performance of Mrs. Upton's cook. I must have


291
ASHTON-KIRK
been falling into a dreamy rapture; but at any
rate I suddenly awoke, so to speak. To my sur-
prise Edyth was talking—quite animatedly—with
Cartwright, and about you."
"Ah!" said Ashton-Kirk. "That's very pleas-
ant. It is not given to every man that the men-
tion of him should stir a melancholy young lady
into animation."
"Have you done anything in your line for the
Treasury Department lately?" asked Pendleton.
"Oh, a small matter of some duplicate
plates," said Ashton-Kirk. "It had some inter-
est, but there was nothing extraordinary in it."
"Well, Cartwright didn't think that. I did
not come to in time to catch the nature of your
feat, but he seemed lost in admiration of your
cleverness. He was quite delighted, too, at secur-
ing Edyth's attention. You see, it was a thing he
had scarcely hoped for. So he proceeded to re-
late all he had ever heard about you. That queer
little matter of the Lincoln death-mask, you know,
and the case of the Belgian Consul and the spuri-
ous Van Dyke. And he had even heard some
of the things you did in the university during your
senior year. His recital of your recovery of the
silver figure of the Greek runner which went as
the Marathon prize in 1902 made a great hit, I
assure you.
"But when he answered 'No' to Edyth's ear-


INVESTIGATOR 23
nest question as to whether he were acquainted
with you, she lost interest; and when I promptly
furnished the information that I was, he was for-
gotten. During the remainder of the dinner I
had time for little else but Edyth's questions.
When she learned that you had taken up investi-
gation as a sort of profession, she was quite
delighted, and before we parted I was asked to
arrange a consultation."
"She will be here this morning, then?" asked
Ashton-Kirk.
Pendleton once more looked at his watch.
"Within a very few minutes," said he.


CHAPTER II
Miss Edyth Vale States Her Case
It was exactly three minutes later when the con-
tinuous tooting of a horn told of the approach of
another motor car along the crowded street.
Then the door-bell rang.
Ashton-Kirk arose and touched one of a series
of buttons in the wall. Almost instantly a buzzer
made sharp reply. He lifted a tube.
"If it is Miss Edyth Vale," spoke he, "show
her up."
A little later a knock came upon the door. The
grave faced German opened it, ushering in an
astonishingly lovely girl; tall, most fashionably
attired and with a manner of eager anxiety. Both
men arose.
"Considering that you are under twenty-five,"
said Pendleton, "you are remarkably prompt in
keeping your engagements, Edyth."
But the girl did not answer his smile. There
was a troubled look in her brown eyes; she tugged
nervously at her gloves to get them off.
"This is Mr. Ashton-Kirk?" she asked.
"It is," answered Pendleton. "Kirk, this is
my cousin, Edyth Vale."
24


INVESTIGATOR 2$
Ashton-Kirk gave the girl a chair; she sat
down, regarding him all the time with much in-
terest . The gloves were removed by now; but
she continued plucking at the empty fingers and
drawing them through her hands.
"I have heard of you quite frequently," said
she to Ashton-Kirk, "but did not dream that I
would ever be forced to benefit by your talents.
Mr. Pendleton has been kind enough to arrange
thi3 interview at my request; and I desire to con-
sult you upon a most important matter—a very
private matter."
Pendleton caught the hesitating glance which
she threw at him and reached for his hat.
"Edyth," said he, "after all I have done for
you, this is very distressing. I had not expected
to be bundled out in this manner."
She smiled faintly, and nodded.
"Thank you, Jimmie," she said. "You are a
nice boy."
After Pendleton had gone, Miss Vale sat for
some moments in silence; and all the time her
eyes went from one part of the room to another,
curiously; she seemed to be trying to estimate the
man whom she came to consult by his sur-
roundings.
At one side, rank on rank of books ran from
floor to ceiling; others were scattered about in
chairs, on stands and on the floor. At one spot


26
ASHTON-KIRK
the wall was racked with glittering, and to her,
strange looking instruments. An open door gave
a glimpse of a second apartment with bare, plas-
tered wall, fitted with tables covered with sheet
lead and cluttered with tanks, grotesquely swell-
ing retorts, burners, jars and other things that
make up a complete laboratory.
But these told her nothing, except that the
man was a student; and this she had heard before.
So she gave her attention to Ashton-Kirk him-
self. He stood by the open window, the morning
light beating strongly upon his dark, keen face,
apparently watching the uncouth surging in the
street below.
"He's very handsome and very wealthy," her
friend Connie Bayless had informed her only that
morning. "Comes of a very old family; has the
entree into the most exclusive houses, but prac-
tically ignores society."
"Oh, yes, I know him," her uncle, an eminent
attorney, had told her. "A very unusual young
man. I might call him acutely intellectual, and he
is an adept in many out of the way branches of
knowledge. He would make a wonderful lawyer,
but has too much imagination. Thinks more of
visionary probabilities than of tangible facts."
"As an amateur actor," Pendleton had confided
to her, "Kirk is without an equal. If he
adopted the stage, he'd make a sensation. At


INVESTIGATOR 27
college he was a most tremendous athlete too—
football, cross-country running, wrestling, boxing.
And I'm told that he still keeps in training.
Clever chap."
"I never saw a more splendid natural equip-
ment for languages," said Professor Hutchinson.
"The most sprawling dialect seemed a simple mat-
ter to him; Greek and the oriental tongues were
no more trouble in his case than the ' first reader'
is to an intelligent child."
She had spoken with Mrs. Stokes-Corbin over
the telephone. Mrs. Stokes-Corbin was related
to Ashton-Kirk, and her information was kindly
but emphatic.
"My dear," said the lady, "I do hope you
haven't fallen in love with him. No? Well, that's
fortunate. He's one of the dearest fellows in the
world, but one of the most extraordinary. I
can't fancy his marrying at all. His ways and
moods and really preposterous habits would drive
a wife mad. You can't imagine the extent of
them. He spends days and nights in positively
uncanny chemical experiments. Without a word
to anyone he plunges off on some mysterious er-
rand, to be gone for weeks. They do tell me that
he is to all intents and purposes a policeman. But
I really can't quite credit that, you know. He
loves to do things that others have tried and
failed. Even as a boy he was that way. It was


29
ASHTON-KIRK
quite discouraging to have a child straighten out
little happenings that we had all given up in de-
spair. Sometimes it was quite convenient, but
I'm not sure that I ever liked it. A charming
talker, my dear; he knows so much to talk about.
But he's eccentric; and an eccentric young man is
a frightful burden to those connected with him."
All these things passed through the mind of
Edyth Vale, as she sat regarding the young man
at the window. Finally he lifted his eyes and
turned them upon her—beautiful eyes—remark-
able, full of perception, compelling. As he caught
her intent, inquiring look, he smiled; she colored
slightly, but met his glance bravely.
"Last night I heard you spoken of," she said,
"and it occurred to me that you could aid me."
"I should be glad to," said he. "It sometimes
happens that I can be of service to persons extra-
ordinarily circumstanced. If you will let me hear
your story—for," with a smile, "all who come to
see me as you have done have a story—I shall
be able to definitely say whether your case comes
within my province."
She hesitated a moment, her hands nervously
engaged with the gloves. Then she said, frankly.
"I suppose it is only sensible to speak quite
candidly with you, Mr. Ashton-Kirk, as one does
with a lawyer or a physician."
He nodded.


INVESTIGATOR
29
"Of course," said he.
For another moment she seemed to be turning
her thoughts over and seeking the best means of
making a beginning.
"It is very silly of me, I know," she said; "but
I feel quite like the working girl who writes to the
correspondence editor of an evening paper for
advice in smoothing out her love affairs." She
bent toward him, the laugh vanishing from her
face, a troubled look taking its place, and con-
tinued. "I am to be married—some day—and
it is about that that I wish to speak to you."
"I realize the difficulties of the subject," spoke
Ashton-Kirk quietly.
"What I am going to tell you, I have never
mentioned to anyone before. It has been three
years ago—four years at Christmas time—since
I first met Allan Morris," she said. "Our en-
gagement so quickly followed that my friends said
it was a very clear case of love at firsti sight. Per-
haps it was!
"However that might be, we were very happy
for a time. But trouble was in store for us. I
had always disbelieved in long engagements, had
always been very outspoken against them, in fact.
This is perhaps what made me so quickly notice
an absence of haste on Mr. Morris' part as to
the wedding. When the subject came up, as it
naturally would, he seemed to avoid it. At first


3o ASHTON-KIRK
I was surprised; but finally I grew annoyed, and
spoke my mind very frankly.
"You see, he is not at all well off, and I am—
well I have a great deal. I thought this might
have something to do with his apparent reluct-
ance. But no, it was something else. As I just
said, I spoke frankly; and he was equally candid,
after a fashion. He said it was quite impossible
for us to be married for some time. There was
a something—he did not say what—which must
first be settled. Naturally I grew curious. I
desired to know what it was that so stood in the
way of our happiness. He replied that it was
something that must not be spoken of, and was
so very earnest in the matter that I did not men-
tion it again—'for a long time.
"You may think, Mr. Ashton-Kirk, that my
fiance was no very ardent lover. But I was as-
sured, and I do not lack perception, that he was
passionately fond of me. And I still think so.
But as time went by, things did not alter; our
wedding was a vague expectation; even more than
before Mr. Morris avoided mention of anything
definite.
"I am not naturally patient; and my rearing
as the only child of an enormously rich man has
perhaps added to my impetuousness. In a burst
of temper one day, I broke the engagement, gave
him back his ring and did a number of other rather


INVESTIGATOR 31
silly things. But he was so tragic in his despair—
so utterly broken hearted and white—that I im-
mediately relented and we patched the matter
up once more. That he loved me was plain; but
that he could not marry me—for some mysterious
reason—was even plainer.
"After this I began to notice a change in htm.
He was rather silent and given to reverie; he
seldom laughed. Sometimes he was haggard and
so wrought up, apparently, that he could scarcely
contain himself. He would pace the floor, evi-
dently with little realization as to what he was
doing. Once he was really dreadfully agitated.
I calmed him as well as I could, and he sat for
a long time, thinking deeply. As I watched him,
he sprang to his feet and dashing his fist upon a
table, cried out, passionately:
"'The black-hearted rascal! He's mocking
me!'
"Then like a flash he realized the strangeness
of his conduct, and with anxious, alarmed face,
asked my pardon. I felt that this was an op-
portunity to put an end to a situation that was
growing intolerable. My persistent questioning
gained me something, but, on the whole, not a
great deal.
"The thing that was troubling him was a busi-
ness matter. In some way he was in the hands
of some one—these are the indefinite threads that


32
ASHTON-KIRK
I gathered—a mocking, jeering, smiling someone
whom he hated, but from whom he could not free
himself.
"I began to tell him that there could be nothing
strong enough in itself to prevent our happiness;
but he stopped me in such a way that I did not
feel inclined to continue. In an outburst, filled
with denunciations of his enemy and protestations
of devotion to myself, I caught the name of Hume.
He had dropped this inadvertantly. I knew it
instantly because of the swift look that he gave
me. But I allowed no hint of what I thought to
show in my face. He was more subdued during
the remainder of his stay; the mentioning of the
name had startled him, and he was doubtless afraid
that his state of mind would lead him into further
indiscretions.
"As you may suppose, the name—the first tan-
gible thing that I had learned—was of much in-
terest to me. If I could but find out who this
person was, I could probably get to the bottom'
of the matter."
At this point Miss Vale paused; and Ashton-
Kirk noted her head lift proudly.
"Perhaps," she continued, " it might be thought
that I had no right to make such an effort in a
matter which Mr. Morris saw fit to keep from
me. Were you thinking that? But I am not a
silent sufferer. I usually make an end of annoy-


INVESTIGATOR 33
ing things without delay. And I would have done
so in this case long before, but I was in love; and
I could not bear to see Allan suffer by my
insistence.
"However, here was an opportunity to perhaps
aid him; and I set to work. In a few hours next
day I had located every person of the name of
Hume in the city. Mr. Morris is a consulting
engineer. Anyone named Hume who, from his
occupation, would be likely to have dealings with
him especially attracted my attention. There were
only a few, and long before the day was over I
had satisfied myself by personal visits at their
places of business that they did not even know
him."
Ashton-Kirk smiled. One of his well-kept
hands patted applause upon the arm of his
chair.
"You are strong," said he. "I recognized your
type when you came in. It is a pleasure to have
one's judgment so thoroughly and satisfactorily
proven."
Miss Vale looked pleased.
"I am glad that you approve of what I did," .
she said. "I confess I had some hesitancy, but
not enough to prevent my carrying out the design.
But when the first effort proved without result,
I set about making a study of all the Humes in
the directory. I had my secretary make me a


34
ASHTON-KIRK
typed list of them, with their addresses and oc-
cupations, and I pored over this for hours at a
time.
"There was one that caught my eye after a
while; probably this was because of the unusual-
ness of his business. The directory gave him as
a numismatist; but I drove by his shop in my
car, and the sign over the window said that he
was also a dealer in curiosities of art.
"This gave me an idea. Mr. Morris is an
ardent collector; his hobby is engraved gems, and
for a man of his means his possessions in this line
are quite remarkable. It was easily within the
range of possibility that he had had transactions
with this particular Hume—at least that he was
acquainted with him. The more I thought of
this, the more curious I grew; and one afternoon
I paid the place a visit. It is on the second floor,
the entrance is through a side door and up a nar-
row, dusty stairway. Then I had to make my
way along a dark windowless passage to the office,
or shop in the front.
"This shop was well lighted, and literally
stuffed with what were well termed 'curiosities of
art.' I never before saw such queer carvings,
such freakish pottery, such weird and utterly im-
possible bric-a-brac. At a table sat a flabby look-
ing man with a short sandy beard. One glance
told me that he was an habitual drunkard, for he


INVESTIGATOR 35
had the sodden look that is unmistakable. But
when he arose and bid me good evening his man-
ner struck me like a blow in the face. Allan
Morris had spoken of a mocking person who
jeered and smiled. And that described this man
exactly. There was mockery in every glance of
his dull eyes; every twitch of his mouth was a
fleer; with each gesture he seemed making game
of one; sneering incredulity was stamped all over
him."
Ashton-Kirk leaned forward with keen
interest.
"My manner must have betrayed me," the girl
went on, " for I saw an inquiring crease come into
his forehead. When he asked the nature of my
business his voice was sharp and insolent.
"I had not thought as to what I should say,
what excuse I should give in this case. But al-
most instantly my mind was made up. About the
most conspicuous thing in the room was a squat
Japanese idol—a fat, grinning, hideous thing
which sat upon a sort of pedestal near the door.
So I laid my hand in it.
"'1 was told of this,'" said I, examining the
idol minutely, "' and came in to see it.'
"' Ah, yes,' " said he. But it was plain enough
that he did not believe me.
"I inquired the price of the figure. He named
a high one; and I believe I astonished him by


3«
ASHTON-KIRK
purchasing it without another word. The idol
was delivered late that afternoon. I had it un-
packed at once and placed where Mr. Morris
could not fail to see it when he called."
"A clever plan," commented Ashton-Kirk,
admiringly.
"He saw it when he entered the room and
greeted me. He was smiling; and the smile froze
on his lips, his face went pale, and he turned a
look upon me that filled me with fear, it was so
wan and startled.
"I had intended telling him the full truth if
my ruse succeeded. But after that look I could
not. I convinced him by a nonchalant manner
and story, that I had come by the idol accidentally.
At least I think I convinced him, though I noticed
his watching me steadily from under very level
brows more than once during the evening. But
if he had any suspicions that I was deceiving him,
he did not put them into words."
Here Miss Vale paused for a moment. Then
she resumed:
"I tried, in various ways, to gain a knowledge
of the relationship between my fiance and this
sneering shopkeeper; but they were all ineffectual.
Mr. Ashton-Kirk, this occurred fully three months
ago, and the situation remains the same as it was
upon that night."
Then with a suddenness that startled the young


INVESTIGATOR 37
man she lifted two trembling hands to her face
and began to sob gaspingly. When she took the
hands away there were no signs of tears, but her
beautiful face was drawn with pain and her voice
shook as she said:
"I don't think I can stand it much longer. I
beg of you not to think lightly of my story; for the
thing that stands between Allan Morris and my-
self is deadly. As I watch him I can see that his
heart is breaking; his health is failing, there is a
look of fear in his eyes." She reached forward
and her hand rested upon the sleeve of Ashton-
iKirk. "He is at the mercy of this mocking mon-
ster that I have described to you. It is killing
him, and through him it is killing me. Help me,
please."
Ashton-Kirk smiled reassuringly.
"As far as I can see," said he, "the case is a
simple one. However, it may turn out the re-
verse. But in either event I can promise you a
swift and energetic attempt to set the matter
right."
"Thank you!" She stood up. "And you will
begin to-day?"
"At once!"
"You are kind." She held out her hand; he
took it. "Thank you, again."
Stumph appeared, in answer to the bell. She
turned to go.


3«
ASHTON-KIRK
purchasing it without another word. The idol
was delivered late that afternoon. I had it un-
packed at once and placed where Mr. Morris
could not fail to see it when he called."
"A clever plan," commented Ashton-Kirk,
admiringly.
"He saw it when he entered the room and
greeted me. He was smiling; and the smile froze
on his lips, his face went pale, and he' turned a
look upon me that filled me with fear, it was so
wan and startled.
"I had intended telling him the full truth if
my ruse succeeded. But after that look I could
not. I convinced him by a nonchalant manner
and story, that I had come by the idol accidentally.
At least I think I convinced him, though I noticed
his watching me steadily from under very level
brows more than once during the evening. But
if he had any suspicions that I was deceiving him,
he did not put them into words."
Here Miss Vale paused for a moment. Then
she resumed:
"I tried, in various ways, to gain a knowledge
of the relationship between my fiance and this
sneering shopkeeper; but they were all ineffectual.
Mr. Ashton-Kirk, this occurred fully three months
ago, and the situation remains the same as it was
upon that night."
Then with a suddenness that startled the young


INVESTIGATOR 37
man she lifted two trembling hands to her face
and began to sob gaspingly. When she took the
hands away there were no signs of tears, but her
beautiful face was drawn with pain and her voice
shook as she said:
"I don't think I can stand it much longer. I
beg of you not to think lightly of my story; for the
thing that stands between Allan Morris and my-
self is deadly. As I watch him I can see that his
heart is breaking; his health is failing, there is a
look of fear in his eyes." She reached forward
and her hand rested upon the sleeve of Ashton-
iKirk. "He is at the mercy of this mocking mon-
ster that I have described to you. It is killing
him, and through him it is killing me. Help me,
please."
Ashton-Kirk smiled reassuringly.
"As far as I can see," said he, "the case is a
simple one. However, it may turn out the re-
verse. But in either event I can promise you a
swift and energetic attempt to set the matter
right."
"Thank you!" She stood up. "And you will
begin to-day?"
"At once!"
"You are kind." She held out her hand; he
took it. "Thank you, again."
Stumph appeared, in answer to the bell. She
turned to go.


38 ASHTON-KIRK
"There is nothing more that you can tell me?"
he inquired.
"Nothing."
"I had supposed that. Your recital sounded
pretty complete."
When the door closed upon her, he stood for a
few moments in the middle of the floor, his head
bent forward, his hands behind him. Then he
turned and touched another of the system of
bells.
Immediately a brisk, boyish looking young man
presented himself.
"Fuller," spoke Ashton-Kirk, "I want instant
and complete information upon one Hume, a
local numismatist, and Allan Morris, consulting
engineer."
"Very well, sir." And Fuller turned at once,
and left the room.


CHAPTER III
The Portraits of General Wayne
When Ashton-Kirk returned that evening from
the theatre, where he had gone to witness a much
heralded new drama, he sat with a cigar in his
library; and stretching out his length in great
comfort, he smoked and smiled and thought of
what he had seen and heard.
"The drama as a medium of expression is
necessarily limited," the young man was saying to
himself, "and of course, in fitting human action
to its narrow bounds, the dramatist is sometimes
tempted to ignore certain human elements. In
spots, the people of the play acted like puppets;
upon seven different occasions, by actual count, the
entire matter would have been cleared up if some-
one had sharply spoken his mind. But he did not,
and the thing was allowed to become hopelessly
involved because of it."
He knocked the ashes from his cigar; and a
smile came to his lips.
"It would not have served the purpose of the
dramatist, I suppose; his play would have ended
abruptly, and far short of the prescribed time.
39


4°
ASHTON-KIRK
He tried to tell a human story and chose an un-
human method."
There was another pause; the smile now dis-
appeared and a thoughtful look came into his
face.
"And yet," he mused, " is the playwright really
so far wrong? Is his stage story very far re-
moved from actuality after all? In Miss Edyth
Vale, we have a girl of most unusual character,
of splendid education, apparently. And yet in
the building of her own drama she has outstripped
the inventor of stage plays in the matter of hesi-
tancy. Her natural inclination urged her to make
a firm stand; but other feelings proved the
stronger, and she held her tongue much after the
fashion of the girl in the play."
He was puffing at a second cigar when there
came a knock on the door, and Fuller entered.
"Well?" said Ashton-Kirk.
"I thought you'd perhaps like to look over
this data before morning," said the young man,
as he laid a number of typed sheets and a photo-
graph at Ashton-Kirk's elbow. "As you re-
quired instant action I got Burgess on the Hume
end of it before noon; after luncheon I took up
Morris myself."
"Thank you," said the other.
"Morris," with a nod toward the photograph,
"is rather uneventful, personally. And it was no


INVESTIGATOR 41
very difficult matter to get the facts concerning
him. But Burgess had a much more interesting
time. Hume seems to have lots of color as a
character. Not that there was a great deal shown
—the time was too short. But the indications
are promising."
When Fuller had gone, Ashton-Kirk took up
the sheets and began to read them carefully.
They were brief, pointed and evidently the work
of men who were familiar enough with their busi-
ness to eliminate all non-essentials. The first one
ran:
"Allan Barnett Morris, Consulting Engineer.
Specialty, Marine Construction. Lives at the
Crompton Apartments. Born October 15, 1879.
Graduate of Cornell; class of 1900. Special hon-
ors. Brilliant student. Was at once engaged by
the New England Ship Building Company. Soon
became their right hand man. Resigned in 1905;
took offices in the Blake Building. Is much em-
ployed by the Government. Has the reputation
of a growing man in his line and is admitted by
competent persons to be an expert.
"He is unmarried and has no family. The last
of these to die was his Tather—a trifle more than
three years ago. The father had a reputation
for great brilliancy and hard drinking. He was
an inventor of some note. See the Morris Smoke
Consumer—the Morris Propeller—the Morris


42
ASHTON-KIRK
Automatic Brake. But he never made much out
of any of these. The appetite for liquor forced
him to surrender, for very little, interests that
made fortunes for other men.
"Young Morris is clear of the drink habit, and
is a hard and persistent worker. He is a member
of the University and the Brookdale Field Clubs;
goes into society, and is reported to be the ac-
cepted suitor of Miss Edyth Vale, daughter of the
late James Vale, manufacturer of structural
steel."
"A clean bill of health, as far as it goes," com-
mented Ashton-TCirk. "However, surface in-
quiries tell very little, sometimes."
He turned to the remaining pages.
"David Purtell Hume, Numismatist, philatel-
ist, dealer in objects of art and curiosities. Re-
sides at his place of business, second floor of 478
Christie Place.
"Hume located in this city in 1899. Where
he came from is not definitely known, but there
is some slight cause for supposing that he is an
American who had been living abroad. However,
an examination of the steamship passenger lists
for 1898-99 fail to show his name.
"Is well known in his line and is reputed to be
wealthy. Is much disliked by his neighbors and
others in the same trade. Even those who patron-
ize him have an aversion to him; but as he is an


INVESTIGATOR
43
authority, and his stock always contains rarities,
they do not take their custom elsewhere.
"Hume has been under suspicion upon several
occasions. But the police could gather no posi-
tive evidence against him, either time. The rob-
bery of the Hailesbury gallery at London, when
the famous Whistler portrait of the Duchess of
Winterton was cut from its frame, was traced al-
most to his door. But the scent died out before
they could clinch the matter, and he escaped. It
was believed that the thing was planned by him
and executed by a confederate. Several other oc-
currences of like nature, but of less importance,
have been laid against him. But, if he was con-
cerned in them, he was always cunning enough to
hide his tracks.
"He is an habitual drinker, of violent temper,
and is reputed to have a positive genius for dis-
covering raw spots in an acquaintance and goading
him for the sheer joy of seeing him writhe. It
is this trait that causes the general dislike for him
in the Christie Place section.
"He is a free liver, spends much money and
has a passion for music."
Ashton-Kirk laid down the sheets and threw
away his cigar.
"As Fuller remarked, Mr. Hume seems to be
a colorful character. And apparently one that
would be likely to lead Mr. Allan Morris a very


44
ASHTON-KIRK
lively dance if he had a hold of any sort upon
him."
He arose to his feet, a pleased light in his eye,
and began walking up and down the floor.
"It is more than likely that it will prove some
trifle that Morris' fears have lifted to the plane
of a tragedy. But, somehow, the parts of the
case seem to fall in a promising manner. I get
a sort of pleasure in anticipating a possible grap-
ple with Mr. David Purtell Hume."
For a full hour, Ashton-Kirk moved up and
down the library, his eyes half closed, varying
expressions appearing and disappearing upon his
face. At length there came a smile of satisfaction
and he paused in his pacing.
"That is probably it," said he. "At any rate
it is a very favorable coincidence. However, I
must have more information than the hur-
ried reports of Burgess and Fuller to be cer-
tain. Yes, this promises to be interesting."
With that he went to his room and to bed.
The dull gray of a damp spring morning was
peering in at his window when he awoke. By
the light he knew that it was hours before his
usual time. Something had aroused him; but he
could not say what. He sat up in bed, and as
he did so there came the long continued and
smothered ringing of a bell.
"The telephone," said he.


INVESTIGATOR
45
"R-r-r-r-ring-g!" it persisted. And then again:
*' R-r-r-r-ring-ing-ing! R-r-r-ring!"
Ashton-Kirk heard a door open and close softly
on the floor above; then slippered feet came pat-
patting down the stairs. The wild rattle of the
bell suddenly stopped; a muffled voice could be
heard protesting dismally against the din. But
suddenly the vague complaint gave way to a
higher note.
"Alarm," said Ashton-Kirk. "Something has
happened."
He reached up and turned on the electric bulb
that hung above his head; then he drew his feet
up under him after the fashion of a Turk and
waited, calmly.
The padded steps swiftly approached his door;
a sharp knock sounded on the panels.
"Well?" demanded the young man.
"There is an urgent call, sir," came the voice
of Stumph—" on the telephone. It's the lady who
called yesterday—Miss Vale."
Ashton-Kirk slipped from the bed; a step
brought him to the door, which he threw open.
"Very well, Stumph," said he, quietly. "You
may go back to bed."
The graye-faced German went stolidly down
the hall; the young man pulled on a pair of felt
slippers; in the library he put the detached re-
ceiver to his ear and spoke evenly:


4« ASHTON-KIRK
"Well, Miss Vale?"
There was a small, gasping exclamation from
the wire, a sort of breath-catching flutter of sound
such as a person might utter who had been run-
ning hard. Then Edyth Vale, her voice shaking
and filled with fear, said:
"Oh! Is that you! I'm glad—glad!"
"Get a firm grip on yourself," advised Ashton-
Kirk. "If anything has happened we can no
doubt remedy it."
There came a series of moaning sobs across
the wire; the girl had evidently broken down and
was crying. Ashton-Kirk said nothing; he waited
patiently. Finally she spoke once more.
"What has happened can never be remedied."
Then her voice sank so low that he could scarcely
catch the breathless words. "There has been
murder done."
The investigator felt the blood prickle beneath
his skin. However, his voice was steady as he
replied; his calmly working mind shook off the
fear which she so strongly suggested."
"Who has been murdered? " he asked.
"The man whom I told you about yesterday—i
the numismatist, Hume."
"Ah!" Ashton-Kirk drew in a long breath
and his eyes began to glow. There was an in-
stant's pause, then he said: "The hour is rather
unconventional; but if you will receive me, I'll


INVESTIGATOR
have you tell me about this matter privately and
at once."
"By all means," she answered, eagerly. "I
was about to beg of you to come."
"In a half hour," said he, briefly. "Good-by."
He hung up the receiver and touched one of the
buttons. When Stumph came, he said:
"Turn the cold water into my bath. Then
order the car in haste."
"Yes, sir."
"Afterwards you can lay out a rough suit,
heavy shoes and a soft hat."
"Instantly, sir."
Within twenty minutes Ashton-Kirk ran down
the steps and sprang into the powerful looking
car that awaited him; and well within the half
hour he rang the bell at the marble palace built
by the steel magnate during the last years of hi3
life. A heavy-eyed man servant admitted him
with astonished resentment. Miss Vale, looking
very tall and very pale, met him in the hall. But
for all her pallor she seemed quite collected, even
smiling.
"Oh, I'm so sorry to have brought you out so
early and on such a dismal morning," she said,
lightly, leading him into a room at one side. "I'm
sure it is very damp."
She sat down and motioned him to a chair; he
studied her with some surprise; the transition


48
ASHTON-KIRK
from wild terror to her present calm was most
notable.
"There has been a recovery of poise, evi-
dently," Ashton-Kirk told himself. "She is still
frightened, but for some reason is anxious to hide
it."
"This morning," said Miss Vale, with a laugh
that rang perfectly, "I found that I was only a
woman after all. This—this dreadful thing so
startled me that for a time I did not know what
to do. My first impulse was to call you, and I
acted upon it. But," with a pretty gesture of
apology, "when I had recovered myself some-
what, I saw that I had disturbed you
unnecessarily."
"You don't mean that, after all, Hume is
not"
She held up her hand for him to stop. A
strong shudder seemed to run through her; she
bent her head so that the light would not fall
too strongly upon her face. In a moment, how-
ever, she recovered.
"Yes, yes," she said, her voice perfectly under
control. "He is dead—shockingly murdered.
What I mean is, that while the event is very
dreadful—still, it does not really concern me more
than any other crime of the same nature which
we see staring at us from the columns of the news-
papers every day. This man's being in my mind


INVESTIGATOR 49
so much of late caused me to become unnerved
when I heard the news."
"When did it occur?"
"Sometime since midnight."
There was a silence. Miss Vale arose and be-
gan to pace the room. The long white cloak that
had draped her fell away; she wore a ball dress
and her arms and shoulders shone splendidly
under the lights.
"How did you hear of it?" asked Ashton-
Kirk.
There was a scarcely perceptible hesitancy;
then she answered:
"Through the newspapers. We were return-
ing from Mrs. Barron's about three o'clock.
The papers had just come out, and I felt a curi-
osity to see them wet from the press. When I
reached home the first thing that caught my eye
was the account of Hume's death."
"Did you call me up at once?"
*' Yes. As I have said, it was the first thing
that occurred to me. And again I beg your par-
don for having disturbed you uselessly."
Ashton-Kirk gestured this aside.
"It may be that the affair will turn out to have
some interesting features," said he. "And with
that possibility in view, I am rather pleased than
not in having an opportunity of getting 30 early
upon the ground."


5o ASHTON-KIRK
She paused in her pacing, and turned upon him
a startled look.
"You do not mean to go there—to Christie
Place," she said.
"I may as well. I may be of use." He looked
at her for a moment steadily, then asked: "Do
you know of any reason why I should not go?"
Instantly the startled look vanished; a smile lit
up the pale face, wanly.
"Of course not," she cried. "You are inter-
ested in dreadful happenings)—I had forgotten
that. I suppose you are really quite delighted;
and instead of my craving pardon I should be ex-
pecting praise, for putting you in the way of this
one."
She laughed lightly; a smile flitted across his
keen face, as he rose and said:
"What has happened may make a change in
the affairs of Allan Morris."
She came to him and laid a hand upon his arm.
Her coolness won his admiration.
"I beg of you to forget all that I told you
yesterday," she said. *' I had been brooding so
long that I had begun to fancy all sorts of im-
possible things. I see very clearly now that this
man Hume could have had nothing of any con-
sequence to do with Mr. Morris. It was a ro-
mance—a rather foolish fancy, and a very wild ■
one."








INVESTIGATOR 51
There was sweet seriousness in her manner;
and the lurking smile still hovered about her lips.
It was as though a return to reason had driven
away the fears of the day before—the alarmed
girl had given place to a sensible woman.
But behind all this, Ashton-Kirk could detect
something else. The almost swooning terror of
the girl who had spoken to him over the telephone
was still there—held rigidly in check to be sure,
but unquestionably there. While her lips smiled,
the eyes sometimes betrayed her; and there was
a tenseness about her that almost screamed. Her
good-by was soft and kindly spoken; she held out
her hand, frankly, and thanked him for his inter-
est. There was nothing hurried in her manner; it
was all smoothly and leisurely done. And yet he
felt that if she had followed the impulse that filled
her, she would have taken him by the shoulder
and bundled him from the room in order that she
might be alone.
"Alone—to think," he said, as he got into his
car at the curb. "But to think about what?"
Aloud he said to the driver: "Christie Place."
By this time the early workers were beginning
to thicken in the street; street cars were more fre-
quent; the dull night hum of the city was growing
in volume. The spark had set the car's engine
throbbing heavily, and the driver was about to
start when a second vehicle drew up and Ashton-


52
ASHTON-KIRK
Kirk found himself looking into the alarmed face
of young Pendleton.
"Heavens, Kirk!" cried the newcomer, as he
leaped out, "has anything serious happened?"
"To whom?" asked the investigator, quietly,
his eyes fixed upon the young man's face.
"To Edyth, of course. Has any thing been
seen of her?"
"I have just left her; she seemed a bit agi-
tated, but perfectly well."
A look of relief crossed Pendleton's face.
"Oh!" said he. "All right. I was beginning
to think that something was up. You see," and
here he lowered his voice, "I danced with her
about midnight at Mrs. Barron's; about two
o'clock her aunt, Mrs. Page, came to me in
great distress and said she was strangely missing.
She had slipped away somewhere without a word."
Ashton-Kirk looked at him keenly.
"Of course it was up to me to find her,"
said Pendleton; "but my efforts were without re-
sult. Her car was gone, and the man said Miss
Vale had called it about one o'clock; also that she
had driven away in it alone.
"At this news Mrs. Page grew quite ill, and I
brought her home here in my car. Then I de-
parted upon a vague sort of search. As .the mat-
ter was to be kept perfectly quiet and I was to
ask no questions of anybody, you can imagine how


INVESTIGATOR 53
much chance I had of doing anything. But if
she's at home, it's all right. At sight of you I
thought it had proved to be something alarming
and that they had sent for you."
"I was sent for," said Ashton-Kirk, dryly, "but
not to hunt for Miss Vale. Now jump in here
and come along; I've got a little matter that may
be of interest."
"I haven't had breakfast," said Pendleton;
"but there's always something piquant to your
little affairs. I'll go you."
He dismissed his own car and climbed into that
of his friend. As they whirled up the street, Ash-
ton-Kirk suddenly directed his driver to stop.
Then he called to a man with a great bundle of
newspapers who stood calling them monotonously
upon a corner.
Again the car started with the investigator deep
in the sheaf of papers which he had purchased.
Page after page failed to reveal anything to his
practised glance; at length he swept them to the
floor of the car. A smile was upon his lips—the
smile of a man who had received a nod of ap-
proval from Circumstances.
"The first edition of the morning dailies lacks
interest," he said. "A crime of some moment
can be committed between midnight and dawn,
and not a line appear in type concerning it until
the later issues."


54
ASHTON-KIRK
Pendleton looked at him with mock disapproval.
"One would suppose," said he, "that you had
expected to find some such criminal narrative in
those," and he indicated the discarded news-
papers.
"There were reasons why I should," answered
Ashton-Kirk. "And* very good reasons, too.
But," and he laughed a little, "for all that, I
had an indefinite sort of feeling that I should not
find it. This may sound a trifle queer; but never-
theless it is true."
"The account was to have been of a murder,"
accused Pendleton. "I can see it in your face, so
don't take the trouble to deny it. I had hoped
that your plunge into what you styled the ' litera-
ture of assassination ' would not last—that a good
night's rest would turn your thoughts into another
groove."
"Perhaps it would have been so," said Ashton-
Kirk. "But things have happened in the mean-
time."
"And you don't appear at all put out that they
have done so. That is possibly the most distress-
ing feature of the business. If anything, you
seem rather pleased. Of course, an odd murder
or so is to be expected in the ordinary course of
events; but one hardly counts upon one's intimates
being concerned in them. It is disconcerting."
He crossed his legs and pursed up his lips.


INVESTIGATOR 55
"If you don't mind," added he, "now that I
have expressed myself, I'll listen to the details
of whatever you have in view."
"There is not a great deal to tell," said Ash-
ton-Kirk. "A man has been murdered in Christie
Place. It happens that I have an interest in the
matter; otherwise I would not think of dipping
into it."
Pendleton looked at him reproachfully.
"After all, then," exclaimed he, "you are but
a dilettante! Assassination in the abstract is well
enough, but you have a disposition to shirk prac-
tical examples. I have been deceived!"
Christie Place was some distance west and ran
off from a much frequented street. It was notable
for the wilderness of sign boards that flared from
each side. The buildings were apparently let out
in floors and each lessee endeavored to outdo his
neighbor in proclaiming his business to the pass-
ing public. The lower floors were, for the most
part, occupied by small grocers, dealers in notions,
barbers, confectioners and such like.
"What a crowded, narrow little place," com-
mented Pendleton, as the car turned into the street.
The air in the street seemed to him heavy.
About midway in the block a small group stood
about a doorway; from a window above swung a
sign bearing the name of Hume. The car stopped
here; Ashton-Kirk and his friend got out; the


f56
ASHTON-KIRK
group at the doorway parted and a big man
stepped forward.
"Why, hello," said he, cordially. "You're the
last person I was looking for. How did you hear
about this?"
"Good morning, Osborne," said Ashton-Kirk,
shaking the big man's hand. "I'm glad to find
you in charge. I got it in an unusual sort of way,
and came down to have a look."
Osborne, though in plain clothes, was emphati-
cally a policeman. His square face, his big
frame, his dogged expression, somehow conveyed
the impression as plainly as words.
"It must have been unusual," said he, "be-
cause even the reporters haven't got it yet; head-
quarters is keeping it quiet until the chief gets in."
Ashton-Kirk looked vastly pleased.
"Excellent," said he to Pendleton. "We'll
have a look at the place before it has lost the at-
mosphere of the crime." Then to Osborne:
"May we go up?"
"Sure," answered the other readily. "Only
don't pull things around any. That young fellow
that they've elected coroner is awful touchy about
such things. He wants to be first always."
"Nothing of importance shall be disturbed,"
promised Ashton-Kirk. Then motioning Pendle-
ton to follow, he ascended the flight that led to
the second floor.


INVESTIGATOR
57
It was narrow and dusty, as Miss Vale had said.
The walls were smutted, the hand rail felt greasy,
the air was stale. A passage, dim and windowless,
ran the depth of the building; from the front
there came a patch of daylight through a ground
glass door. Upon this latter could be easily read
the words:
DAVID P. HUME
NUMISMATIST
PHILATELIST
ART CURIOSITIES
A policeman stood at the head of the stairs
smoking a cigar in an informal way.
"All right," said he, "if Osborne let you come
up I've got nothing to say. He's the boss."
"Have you looked over the place?"
"Just a glance. The floor has been fitted up
as an apartment. Hume occupied all the rooms.
The body," pointing to the front room, "is in
there."
"Thanks."
Ashton-Kirk turned the knob of the door near-
est, the one with the lettering upon it. The room
was without windows; the investigator closed the
door and lighted the gas.
"Just a moment," said he.


5 9 ASHTON-KIRK
The door leading to the front room stood
wide. He disappeared through this for a mo-
ment; when he returned, his face wore a tightened
expression; his eyes were swift and eager.
"This is a sort of store room, I should say,"
spoke Pendleton.
Pictures hung about upon the walls and stood
packed in corners; statues of bronze, marble and
plaster were on every side; brass bas-reliefs, rugs
of Eastern design and great price, antique armor,
coin cabinets, ponderous stamp albums, Japanese
paintings and carvings and a host of queer and
valuable objects fairly crammed every inch of
space.
u I Ka3 Heard that Hume was wealthy," com-
mented Ashton-Kirk. "And this seems to prove
it. This room contains value enough to satisfy
a fairly reasonable person."
The two young men passed through into what
appeared to be a kitchen. There was an ill kept
range upon one side cluttered with cooking things.
A bare oaken table of the Jacobean period held
the remains of a meal. A massive Dutch side-
board, covered with beautiful carving, stood fac-
ing them; every inch of available space upon it
was crowded with bottles, decanters and glasses.
"The gentleman was not averse to an occa-
sional nip, at any rate," said Pendleton. "And
his taste was rather educated, too," examining


INVESTIGATOR 59
the sideboard's contents carefully. "The best
was none too good for him."
Beyond this again was a bedroom. The bed
was a huge Flemish affair, and also elaborately
carved; over it was a spreading Genoese canopy,
which through lack of care had grown dusty and
tattered. Rich old rugs were spread upon the
neglected floor; a beautiful Louis Quinze table
had its top covered with discolored rings made
by the bottoms of glasses, and the lighted ends
of cigars had burned spots on it.
"The bed of a prince and the floor coverings
of a duke," said Pendleton with indignation.
"And used much as a coal heaver would use them.
Now, this table is really a scandal. If its owner
has been murdered, I 'don't wonder at it. Some
outraged lover of such things has probably taken
the law into his own hands."
But Ashton-Kirk was paying little' attention to
the things that appalled Pendleton.
"Look," said he.
He indicated the walls. Here and there the
plaster was broken as though some fastened ob-
ject had been violently torn away. At one place
an empty picture frame, its glass smashed, hung
askew from a hook. As Pendleton caught sight
of other empty frames littered about the room,
the glass of each broken, their pictures torn out,
he exclaimed in astonishment:


6o
ASHTON-KIRK
"Hello! Someone has torn them down and
smashed them. What an extraordinary thing to
do!"
The pictures, mostly engravings, but with here
and there a painting, were strewn about. Ash-
ton-Kirk carefully gathered them up and spread
them upon the table. They were by various
hands, but unquestionably represented the same
person—a handsome, resolute looking man in the
uniform of an officer in the army of Washington.
"General Anthony Wayne," said Ashton-Kirk,
softly.
There was something in the tone that made
Pendleton look at him swiftly. The splendid
head was bent over the portraits; eagerness blazed
in the dark eyes; the keen face was rigid with
interest.
"Some drunken freak, do you think?" asked
Pendleton, more to hear his friend's view than
anything else.
But Ashton-Kirk shook his head.
"On the contrary, the thing seems full of a
vague meaning," said he. "There were seven-
teen pictures upon the walls of this room; four-
teen have been torn down and destroyed; the
other three are undisturbed."
Pendleton gazed at the pictures that remained
upon the walls. Two were of fine looking houses
of the colonial type; the third was the portrait of


INVESTIGATOR 61
a man—a man of repulsive, sneering face, heavy
with evil lines and with unusually small eyes.
"If they had destroyed that one it would have
had some meaning to me," commented Pendleton.
*' But, as it is, I hardly think I follow you."
"The meaning that I find," replied Ashton-
Kirk, "lies in the fact that the pictures violently
used were those of General Wayne only. Mark
that fact. That they were deliberately selected
for destruction is beyond question."
"How do you make that out?"
"It is simple. If this were a mere random
stripping of the room of its pictures, all would
have suffered. Look," indicating a spot in the
wall, "here is a place where the plaster is broken.
A hook had been driven here to hold one of the
portraits; and the breaking of the plaster shows
that some determination was required to tear the
picture down. Yet—next this—is an engraving of
an old mansion which remains untouched. The
next four again were portraits of the General,
and all have been demolished."
Pendleton nodded.
"That's true," said he. "Whoever did this
was after the Revolutionary hero alone. But
why?"
Ashton-Kirk smiled.
"We'll look into matters a little further," said
he. "Perhaps there are facts to be gathered that


ASHTON-KIRK
will shed some light upon the things that we have
already seen."
They repassed through the other rooms; with
his hand upon the frame of the door leading to
the show room, Ashton-Kirk paused.
"Better brace yourself for rather a shocking
sight," said he to his friend.
"Go on," said Pendleton, quiedy.


CHAPTER IV
Stillman's Theory
There were four good-sized windows in the
show room, all overlooking the street. It was a
large, square place, and, as Miss Vale had said,
literally stuffed with odd carvings, pottery of a
most freakish sort, and weird bric-a-brac. Two
large modern safes stood at one side, behind a
long show case spread with ancient coins. At
the end of this case was a carpeted space, railed
in and furnished with a great flat-topped desk.
Upon the floor at the foot of the desk, and with
three separate streams of blood creeping away
from it, lay the huddled, ghastly figure of a man.
Pendleton, though he had been warned, felt
his breath catch and his skin grow cold and damp.
"Heavens!" said he, under his breath. "It's
the man whose picture we saw inside there on the
wall."
Even the shock of death could not, so it seemed,
drive the sneer from the thick lips; mockery was
frozen in the dead eyes.
"What a beast he must have been," went on
Pendleton. "Like a satyr. I don't think I ever
saw just that type of face before."
63


64
ASHTON-KIRK
Ashton-Kirk was bending over the body; sud-
denly he raised himself.
"There is a heavy bruise on the forehead,"
said he. "He was felled first; then bayoneted."
"Bayonetedl" Pendleton peered at the body.
"There it is, sticking from his chest." Ashton
Kirk drew aside the breast of the dead man's
coat and his companion caught sight of a bronze
hilt. The broad, sword-like blade had been
driven completely home.
*' If we attempted to move the body," said the
investigator, "I should not be surprised if we
found it pinned to the floor. It took brawn to
give that stroke; the man who dealt it made sure
of the job."
With soft, quick steps he crossed the room.
The doors of the safes were locked.
"If the purpose was robbery," said Ashton-
Kirk, "the criminal evidently knew where to look
for the most portable and valuable articles.
There seems to be no indication of anything hav-
ing been tampered "He stopped short, his
eyes upon a huge vellum covered tome which lay
open upon the floor. He whistled softly between
his teeth. "General Wayne once more!" he
said.
The volume, as far as Pendleton could see, was
a sort of scrap book in which had been fastened
a great number of prints. Upon the two pages


INVESTIGATOR
65
that they could see, six prints had been affixed
by the corners. Of these, four had been torn
out and lay upon the floor.
"Gambetta and John Bright have been spared,"
said Ashton-Kirk, pointing at the book, "but,"
and he gathered up the fragments of the mis-
handled prints, "upon Mad Anthony they laid
violent hands four separate times."
Pendleton wrinkled his brow.
"Now what the deuce can it mean," he asked,
vexedly. "Not only what did the fellow mean
who did this, but what did he mean," pointing at
the dead man, "by having so many portraits of
General Wayne?"
"I think something might be found to point
the way if we could only look for it," said Ashton-
Kirk, his face alight with eagerness. "But we'll
have to await the coroner's people."
"When will they come?"
The investigator shrugged his shoulders.
"Probably not for hours," he answered.
"However, as the coroner himself appears to be
new in the office, he may be more anxious to get
his work over with than the usual official. In
the mean time we'd better go down and have
a talk with Osborne. If I remain here I'll suc-
cumb to temptation, go rummaging about and so
get myself into trouble."
He turned the knob of the door with the ground


66
ASHTON-KIRK
glass panel; but it was fast. They passed into
the store room, and so out into the hall.
"Any signs of the people from the coroner's
office?" asked Ashton-Kirk of the policeman who
stood there.
"Someone just drove up a minute ago," an-
swered the man. "I hear him down there talk-
ing to Osborne now."
Ashton-Kirk was about to go down when there
came a tramping on the stairs. The big figure of
the headquarters detective was first; after him
came a nervous, important looking young man and
a stolid-faced old one.
With a large gesture Osborne laid his hand
upon Ashton-Kirk's shoulder.
"Mr. Stillman," said he to the nervous look-
ing young man, "this is Mr. Ashton-Kirk. I
guess you've heard of him."
The important manner of the young coroner
visibly increased as he held out his hand.
"I have heard of you frequently, sir," he stated,
firmly, "and I am quite delighted to meet you.
More especially, sir, at a time like this."
"A very nasty looking affair," returned the
investigator. "Osborne has been good enough
to let me glance about," in explanation.
"I trust," said Stillman, "that you have dis-
turbed nothing."
"Except for gathering up a few scattered pic-


INVESTIGATOR 67
tures in the bedroom, we have done nothing but
look," assured Ashton-Kirk.
"I find that the exact conditions must remain
if we are to secure even a fairly good idea of
the crime's environments," stated Stillman, ner-
vously. "It is a thing that I insist upon from the
police in every instance."
"Sure, sure," said Osborne. "Headquarters
does its best never to make trouble for you, Mr.
Stillman."
The nervous young coroner seemed to be re-
lieved to hear this. He waved his hand in a ges-
ture that might have meant anything and turned
to the stolid looking, elderly man who accom-
panied them. They conversed for a few moments;
the stolid man seemed to be explaining something
carefully, to which Stillman listened with the ut-
most attention. Osborne bent his head toward
Ashton-Kirk.
"The old party is a left-over in the coroner's
office, of many years' standing," said the detec-
tive. "He knows the ropes and puts the newly
elected ones on to the points of the game."
Stillman finally turned; there was an added
importance in his manner, and his nervousness
had also increased.
"Mr. Osborne," said he, "please let us have
what facts the police have gathered."
"That won't take long," said Osborne. "Just


68
ASHTON-KIRK
before daylight—three o'clock, I think she said—
the woman whom Hume employed to scrub the
passage-way and stairs got here. She has al-
most a dozen such jobs in the neighborhood, and
as she must have them all done before business
begins, she's compelled to get at it early. She
has a key to the street door; so she let herself
in, came up these stairs and started for the far
end of the hall, where there is a water tap. She
didn't notice anything unusual until she returned
with her pail filled; then she saw this door,"
pointing to that of the store room, "standing
open."
"I see," said Mr. Stillman; and he gazed very
hard at the door.
"Hume, according to the scrub-woman's story,"
resumed the big man, "was a queer kind of a
chap. You didn't always know just how to take
him. He's lapped up a good bit of booze first
and last and sometimes he's come home pretty
well settled. So when the woman sees the door
open, this is the first thing that enters her mind.
But to make sure, she goes into the room and calls
him by name. The room's dark and there's just
a touch of daylight coming in through the open
door leading into the front room. So a3 there
was no answer, she takes a peep in there and
sees him on the floor."
"And is that all she can tell?"


INVESTIGATOR 69
"Yes; except that she bolted down the stairs
in a hurry, met Paulson here," with a nod to the
policeman, who had now discarded his cigar,
"and told him what she had seen."
"What is her name and address?"
Osborne consulted a note book.
"Mrs. Dwyer, 71 Cormant Street," read he.
"Please make a note of that," said Stillman
to his clerk. "And send for her later in the
day." Then turning once more to Osborne, he
continued. "Before doing anything else we will
endeavor to find out how the criminal gained an
entrance."
"That's the way with these Johnnie New-
comers," grumbled Osborne as Stillman turned
once more to his aide. "They want to do it all.
Why don't he go in, look at the body and leave
the police business to the police."
"Too much earnestness may have its draw-
backs," said Ashton-Kirk, "but it is to be pre-
ferred to the perfunctory methods of the accus-
tomed official, for all."
"From your angle, maybe so," said Osborne
with a frown; "but not from ours."
Stillman began rubbing his palms together with
what was intended to be business-like briskness;
he stepped up and down the dark hall, peering
right and left. But for all his assumption of con-
fidence, his nervousness was very apparent.


70
ASHTON-KIRK
"You say," said he to Osborne, "that the
scrubwoman unlocked the street door. Very
good. That shows that it was fast at all events.
Now what other means are there of entering the
building?"
"None, except by the fire-escapes and windows.
But the windows on this floor are all secured ex-
cept for those at the front."
"Except for those at the front." The young
coroner paused in his hand rubbing. "Would
it not have been possible for the person or persons
who did this murder to enter by one of those?"
"It would have been possible," returned the big
headquarters man, "but no sane person would
do it. They'd have to swarm up the face of the
building in full view of anyone that might be
passing at the time."
*' Exactly," said Stillman, stiffening under what
he was half inclined to consider a rebuff. "Well,
that eliminates that possibility. Now to the next
one. Who occupied the building besides the mur-
dered man?"
"A man named Berg keeps a delicatessen store
on the first floor. His place in no way communi-
cates with the rest of the building. The third
and fourth floors are used for storage purposes
by a furrier. Except in the spring and fall, so
Mrs. Dwyer tells me, he seldom visits the build-
■ _ ,>
ing.


INVESTIGATOR 71
"Is there any way of getting in from the top
of the house—the roof?" asked the coroner.
A look of something like respect came into Os-
borne's face. Clearly the question was one which
he considered worth while.
"There is a scuttle," he replied. "The bolt
is rusted and broken; it has probably not been
fastened for months, perhaps years."
"Now we are beginning to come at something,"
cried Stillman, well pleased. "In all probability
the assassin entered by way of the scuttle." He
turned as though for the approval of the stolid-
faced man. "Eh, Curran? What do you think
of that?"
*' It looks very like it, Mr. Stillman."
"At all events," spoke the coroner, "we will
now examine the rooms."
He advanced and tried the door of the show
room.
"Ah, locked!" said he. He turned and en-
tered the store room, the others following. The
gas was still burning; the coroner stuck a pair
of big-lensed eyeglasses upon his rather high
nose and gazed about him intently.
"There seems to be nothing of an informing
nature here," said he, after a time. "Where is
the body?"
Osborne led the way into the front room.
After a glance at the ghastly, huddled figure upon


70
ASHTON-KIRK
"You say," said he to Osborne, "that the
scrubwoman unlocked the street door. Very
good. That shows that it was fast at all events.
Now what other means are there of entering the
building?"
"None, except by the fire-escapes and windows.
But the windows on this floor are all secured ex-
cept for those at the front."
"Except for those at the front." The young
coroner paused in his hand rubbing. "Would
it not have been possible for the person or persons
who did thi3 murder to enter by one of those?"
"It would have been possible," returned the big
headquarters man, "but no sane person would
do it. They'd have to swarm up the face of the
building in full view of anyone that might be
passing at the time."
"Exactly," said Stillman, stiffening under what
he was half inclined to consider a rebuff. "Well,
that eliminates that possibility. Now to the next
one. Who occupied the building besides the mur-
dered man?"
"A man named Berg keeps a delicatessen store
on the first floor. His place in no way communi-
cates with the rest of the building. The third
and fourth floors are used for storage purposes
by a furrier. Except in the spring and fall, so
Mrs. Dwyer tells me, he seldom visits the build-
• _ ,)
mg.


INVESTIGATOR 71
"Is there any way of getting in from the top
of the house—the roof?" asked the coroner.
A look of something like respect came into Os-
borne's face. Clearly the question was one which
he considered worth while.
"There is a scuttle," he replied. "The bolt
is rusted and broken; it has probably not been
fastened for months, perhaps years."
"Now we are beginning to come at something,"
cried Stillman, well pleased. "In all probability
the assassin entered by way of the scuttle." He
turned as though for the approval of the stolid-
faced man. "Eh, Curran? What do you think
of that?"
%l It looks very like it, Mr. Stillman."
"At all events," spoke the coroner, "we will
now examine the rooms."
He advanced and tried the door of the show
room.
"Ah, locked!" said he. He turned and en-
tered the store room, the others following. The
gas was still burning; the coroner stuck a pair
of big-lensed eyeglasses upon his rather high
nose and gazed about him intently.
"There seems to be nothing of an informing
nature here," said he, after a time. "Where is
the body?"
Osborne led the way into the front room.
After a glance at the ghastly, huddled figure upon


7*
ASHTON-KIRK
the carpet near the desk, the coroner took a care-
ful survey of the apartment.
"Did Mr. Hume employ any person to assist
him?" he asked.
"The scrub-woman told me that there was a
young man here always when she came during the
business day for her wages. A sort of clerk, she
thought."
"He will be able to tell us if anything has been
disturbed, no doubt," remarked Stillman.
Then he examined the body minutely. In the
pockets were found a wallet containing a large
sum of money, a massive, old-fashioned gold
watch with a chain running from pocket to pocket
of the waist-coat. Upon the little finger of
Hume's left hand was a magnificent diamond.
"Worth two thousand if it's worth a cent,"
appraised Osborne.
"If the criminal had meant robbery these things
would unquestionably have been taken," com-
mented the young coroner. "Eh, Curran?"
"That is a very safe rule to go by, Mr. Still-
man," replied his assistant, with the utmost stol-
idity.
Through his big lenses the coroner gazed curi-
ously at the bronze haft protruding from the
dead man's chest.
"A bayonet," said he. "Not a common
weapon in a crime like this. In fact, I should
say it was rather in the nature of an innovation."


INVESTIGATOR
73
"It probably belonged in Hume's stock," sug-
gested Osborne. "There seems to be about
everything here."
But Stillman shook his head.
"We have already about concluded that the in-
tention of the criminal was not robbery," stated
he. "And now, if we make up our minds that
the bayonet belonged to Hume—that the assassin,
in point of fact, came here without a weapon—
it must be that he did not intend murder either."
"Maybe he didn't," ventured Osborne.
"There might have been a sudden quarrel. The
person who struck that blow may have grabbed
up the first competent looking thing that came
to his hand."
Stillman turned to Ashton-Kirk.
"That sounds reasonable enough, eh?"
"Very much so," replied Ashton-Kirk.
"A bayonet is a most unusual weapon," said
the coroner thoughtfully, readjusting his glasses.
"And I think it would be a most awkward thing
to carry around with one. Therefore, it would
be a most unlikely choice for an intending assas-
sin. "I am of the opinion," nervously, "that we
may safely say that it was a sudden quarrel which
ended in this," and he gestured with both hands
toward the body.
The safe doors were tried and found locked; a
cash register was opened and found to contain
what had been apparently the receipts of the day


74
ASHTON-KIRK
before. An examination of the cabinets and cases
disclosed hundreds of ancient coins and other ar-
ticles the value of which must have been heavy.
But their orderly array had not been disturbed.
A long curtain of faded green material hung from
the wall at one side, as though to screen some-
thing from the sunlight and dust.
"What have we here?" said the coroner.
He stepped across the store and whisked the
curtain aside. A large gilt frame was disclosed;
and from it hung the slashed remains of a canvas.
"Hello!" exclaimed Osborne, with interest.
"This begins to look like one of the old affairs
that they say Hume's been mixed up in. Some-
body's tried to cut that picture from the frame."
They examined it carefully. A keen knife had
been run around the top and both sides, close
to the frame. The painting hung down, its gray
back displayed forlornly.
Stillman regarded it with great satisfaction.
"Here," said he, "we at least have a possible
motive."
Ashton-Kirk took a twisted walking stick from
a rack, and with the end of it, raised the slashed
canvas so that its subject could be seen. It was
a heroic equestrian figure of an officer of the
American Revolution. Hi's sword was drawn;
his face shone with the light of battle.
Pendleton was just about to cry out "General


INVESTIGATOR 75
Wayne," when the stick fell from his friend's
hand, the canvas dropping to its former position.
While the others were trying to get it into place
once more, Ashton-Kirk whispered to Pendleton:
"Say nothing. This is their turn; let them
work in their own way. I will begin where they
have finished."
After a little time spent in a gratified inspection
of the painting, Stillman said:
"But, gentlemen, let us have a look at the
other rooms. There may be something more."
They re-passed through the store room and into
the living room. Nothing here took the coro-
ner's attention, and they entered the bedroom.
Both these last had doors leading into the hall;
upon their being tried they were found to be
locked.
The smashed pictures upon the bedroom floor
at once took the eye of Stillman. He regarded
the broken places in the plaster and prodded the
slivers of wood and glass with the toe of his shoe
with much complacency.
"This completes the story," declared he. "It
is now plain from end to end. The criminal en-
tered the building from the roof, made his way
down stairs and gained admittance through the
door which the scrub woman found unlocked.
His purpose was to steal the painting in the front
room.


INVESTIGATOR
77
"If I should not be intruding," said Ashton-
Kirk, "I should like to be present."
Stillman smiled with the air of a man tri-
umphant, but who still desired to show charity.
"I shall be pleased to see you, sir," he said,
"then or at any other time."


CHAPTER V
Stillman Asks Questions
It wanted a few minutes of three o'clock when
Ashton-Kirk, still accompanied by the curious Pen-
dleton, walked into the outer room of the coro-
ner's suite.
"Mr. Stillman will be here at any moment
now," said Curran. Then lowering his voice
and making a short little gesture from the elbow,
he added: "These people are the ones he wanted
to see."
As he and Pendleton sat down, Ashton-Kirk
looked at the persons referred to. The first was
a thin, wiry little woman, unmistakably Irish,
cleanly dressed and with sharp, inquisitive eyes.
Engaged in a low-pitched conversation with her
was a thick-necked German, heavy of paunch and
with a fat, red face. The third was a spectacled
young Jew, poring over a huge volume which he
seemed to have brought with him. He had a
tremendous head of curling black hair; his cloth-
ing was shabby. There was a rapt expression
upon his face; plainly nothing existed for him at
that moment outside the pages of his book.
After a brief space, the coroner came in.
78


INVESTIGATOR 79
"Ah, how do you do, gentlemen," greeted he.
He was good-natured and strove to be easy; but
his natural nervousness clung to him. "I am
glad to see you."
He looked at Curran and nodded at the three
inquiringly.
"Yes, sir," replied the clerk; "these are the
parties."
"Then we will get down to business." He
opened a door and entered an inner room. "Will
you come in?" he asked of Ashton-Kirk and Pen-
dleton.
They followed him at once; and Curran, ad-
dressing the little Irishwoman, said:
"Now, Mrs. Dwyer, this way, please."
She arose briskly and also entered the inner
room. Stillman seated himself at a desk and care-
fully perched his glasses upon his nose.
"I perhaps take more trouble than is customary
in these cases," he said to Ashton-Kirk. "It is
usual to hear statements, I believe, only when they
are proffered as testimony at the inquest. But
it seems to me that the office should be carried
on in a more thorough way. Preparation, I
think, is necessary to get at the facts."
Then he faced the woman who had taken a
chair beside the desk.
"Your full name, please," said he.
"Honora Dwyer. I'm a widow with four chil-


80 ASHTON-KIRK
dren: I live at 71 Cormant Street, an' me hus-
! m' ias been dead these three years," declared
. -i a breath.
btii; nan smiled.
"iou don't believe in keeping anything back,
Mrs. Dwyer, I can see that," said he. "And a
very good trait it is." He leaned back in his
swivel chair and looked at her through the glasses.
"You are the person who discovered the body of
Mr. Hume, are you not?"
"Yes, sir, I were," replied Mrs. Dwyer; "and
God spare me such another sight."
"Tell us about it," said the coroner.
"I work as scrub woman for a good many in
Christie Place an' the immejeat neighborhood,"
said Mrs. Dwyer, genteelly. "But I always gets
to Mr. Hume's first."
"You are quite sure you found the street door
locked?"
"Yes, sir."
"And you noticed nothing unusual about the
place?"
"Only the open door to the store room, sir.
Mr. Hume was always particular about closing
up, sir. For a man who was in the habit of tak-
ing a sup of drink, sir, I'll say he was very par-
ticular."
"When you noticed the door being open you
went in at once, I suppose?"


INVESTIGATOR
81
"No, sir; I did not. After I got me water,
I set down on the top step to get me breath.
When I saw the door stan'nin' open, thinks I to
meself, thinks I; 'Mr. Hume is up early this
morninV But everything was quiet as the grave,"
in a hushed dramatic tone. "Sorra the sound did
I hear. So I gets up and goes in. And in the
front room I sees him lyin'. Mr. Hume was
never a handsome man, sir; and he'd gained noth-
ing in looks by the end he'd met with. God save
us, how I ever got out into the street, I'll never
know."
She rocked to and fro and fanned herself with
her apron.
"It must have been a very severe shock, Mrs.
Dwyer," agreed the coroner. "Now," after a
pause, "do you know anything—however slight,
mind you—that would seem to point to who did
this thing?"
Mrs. Dwyer shook her head.
"Me acquaintance with Mr. Hume was a busi-
ness one only, sir," she said. "I never set foot
into his place further than the hall except on
the days when I went to get me pay—and this
morning, save us from harm!"
"You know nothing of his friends then—of his
habits?"
"There is the Jew boy, outside there, that
worked for him. He's a nice, good mannered lit-


82
ASHTON-KIRK
tie felly, and is the only person I ever see in the of-
fice when I went there, barrin' the boss himself.
As for Mr. Hume's habits, I can say only what
everybody knows. He were drunk when he en-
gaged me, and he were drunk the last time I seen
him alive."
"That will be all, Mrs. Dwyer," said Stillman.
"Thank you. Curran, I'll see the young man
next."
As Curran and Mrs. Dwyer went out the young
coroner turned to his two visitors.
"I am still assured that we have the motive
for the crime in the attempt to steal the paint-
ing," he said. *' But it will do no harm to get all
the light we can upon every side of the matter.
The smallest clue," importantly, "may prove of
the utmost value at the inquest."
Ashton-Kirk smilingly nodded his entire assent
to this. Then Curran showed in the clerk.
The young man still carried the thick volume
and, when he sat down, laid it upon a corner of
Stillman's desk. Its back was turned toward Ash-
ton-Kirk and he noted that it was a work on an-
atomy such as first-year medical students use.
"What is your name, please?" asked the coro-
ner.
"Isidore Brolatsky," replied the young man.
"You are, or were, employed by Mr. Hume?"
■"As a clerk, yes, sir. I've been with him for


INVESTIGATOR
83
some years." Brolatsky spoke with scarcely a
trace of accent . "He didn't pay much, but then
there wasn't much to do, and I had plenty of time
to study."
"Ah," said Stillman, encouragingly. "To
study, eh?"
"Yes. I've taken up medicine. There's a
college up town that has night classes. I have
been attending the lectures there and reading
during the day. There's a big chance for physi-
cians who can speak Yiddish. Not only to make
money, but to do good."
"I see." The coroner regarded him reflec-
tively for a moment. "Now, Mr. Brolatsky,
having worked for Hume for some years, you
must have picked up some details as to his busi-
ness and himself. Suppose you tell us all you
know about both."
The dark face of Brolatsky became thoughtful.
"Mr. Hume was a Hard man to get along
with," he said. "He seemed ready to quarrel
at any time with anybody. I don't recall a cus-
tomer ever coming into the store that he didn't
have some kind of trouble with before they went
out. But he had a great knowledge of the things
he dealt in. People came from far and near to
get his opinion on items in their collections. His
fees," with appreciation, "were large.
"But there is one thing that I noticed about


84
ASHTON-KIRK
him. While he knew all about objects of art,
he did not seem to care for them. He had no
love for his trade, no sympathy, I may say, for
the collectors who came to him. I wouldn't be
going far from the truth if I said that he thought
them all fools for paying their money for such
things. And I know that he mocked them."
"Humph!" Stillman looked at Ashton-Kirk,
with surprise upon his face. "That seems odd.
Men usually go into Hume's business through love
of it." He turned once more to Bfolatsky.
"And he had no hobby of his own, no collection
that he fancied more than another?"
Brolatsky nodded amusedly.
"Yes," he replied. %tI was just coming to
that. He did have a collection that he called his
own. And he never sold an item from it as long
as I was with him. Indeed, I think if anybody
had offered to buy, he would have come to blows
with him."3
Ashton-Kirk ben. .. ?.■ i. For the first time
since entering the room, spoke.
"And what was the nature of that collection?"
he inquired eagerly.
"Portraits," answered Isidore Brolatsky.
"Prints, lithographs, mezzo-tints, engravings,
paintings, it made no difference. And all of the
same person. He had hundreds, I guess, and
every one of them was of General Wayne."


86 ASHTON-KIRK
of Winterton. Suppose this someone," and Still-
man rapped his knuckles upon the edge of the
desk excitedly, "took the notion to go into the
picture stealing business of his own account.
Hume himself with his much prized portrait of
General Wayne was ready at hand—and so,"
with a sweeping gesture, "what has happened, has
happened."
Pendleton, much impressed, looked at Ashton-
Kirk. But the latter's thoughts seemed far away;
his eyes were fixed upon the wall; his expression
was of delighted anticipation.
Stillman also noticed this non-attention to his
reasoning, and a little wrinkle of discontent ap-
peared between his brows. So he turned his gaze
upon Brolatsky and spoke rather sharply.
"Now, as to Mr. Hume's intimates? What
do you know of them?"
Isidore Brolatsky shifted in his chair; his long
fingers began to drum upon his knees.
"I have known of the matter of the Whistler
portrait," said he, "but I never knew anything
more about it than what I read in the newspapers.
It happened before my time."
"I'm not accusing you," said Stillman. "I'm
asking you about Hume's friends."
The clerk considered.
"There was no one that I ever saw or heard
of that you could call his friend, exactly," said


INVESTIGATOR 87
he at length. "He made game of people too
much to have any I guess."
"Had he no associates—no one with whom he
spent his time?"
Brolatsky shook his head.
"Perhaps so; but then I was only in Christie
Place during business hours. I have heard that
he frequently went out at night; but where I do
not know."
"Was there no one who came to visit him while
you were there during the day. No one whom
he spoke of in an intimate way?"
Again the clerk shook his head. Stillman be-
gan to appear nonplussed. He looked at the
other, pondering and frowning through his
glasses.
"Who came most frequently to the store?"
he inquired finally.
"Why, I think Antonio Spatola," said Bro-
latsky.
"Was he a customer?"
The clerk smiled.
"Oh, no. He's a street musician. You may
have seen him often about the city. He plays
the violin and carries some trained cockatoos upon
a perch."
"What was the nature of his business at
Hume's?"
"If there was anything that Mr. Hume liked


88
ASHTON-KIRK
better than strong drink," said the clerk, "it
was music. Antonio Spatola would come and
play to him for hours at a time."
"A lover of music who could stand the playing .
of a street musician for hours!" cried Stillman.
"That's astonishing."
"But," protested Brolatsky, "Spatola is a
splendid musician. He's studied his instrument
under the greatest masters in Paris, Rome and
other European cities. He has played in the
finest orchestras. But he never could keep a posi-
tion because of his temper. He's told me himself
that when aroused he doesn't know what he is
doing."
"I understand," said the coroner. "What
sort of relations existed between Hume and Spa-
tola outside the music? Were they friendly?"
"No, sir. I might say just the reverse. For
hours, sometimes, Mr. Hume would lie back
in his chair with his eyes closed listening to the
violin. Then, perhaps, he'd get up suddenly,
throw Antonio a dollar or so and tell him to get
out. Or maybe he'd begin to jeer at him. An-
tonio had an ambition to become a concert vio-
linist. Ole Bull and Kubelik had made great suc-
cesses, he said; and so, why not he?
"This was usually the point Mr. Hume would
take up in mocking him. He'd call him a curb-
stone fiddler, and say that he ought to be playing


90
ASHTON-KIRK
Stillman seemed struck by this.
"In view of the fact that the building was en-
tered by way of the scuttle," said he to Ashton-
Kirk, "I consider that a most interesting piece
of information."
"It may indeed prove so," was the non-com-
mittal reply.
Once more the discontented crease showed itself
upon the coroner's forehead; and again as he
turned to Brolatsky, his voice rose sharply.
"Next to Antonio Spatola, who came most to
Hume's place while you were there?"
"The next most frequent caller," returned the
clerk, "was Mr. Allan Morris."
Ashton-Kirk, glancing at Pendleton, saw him
start.
"And who," queried the coroner, "is Mr.
Allan Morris?"
"At first I took him to be a customer," replied
Brolatsky. "And perhaps he was. He talked
a great deal at times about engraved gems and
would look at lists and works upon the subject.
But somehow I got the notion that that was not
just what he came for."
"What caused you to think that?" asked the
coroner.
"His manner, partly, and then the fact that
there seemed something between Mr. Hume and
him—something that I never understood. Mr.


INVESTIGATOR 91
Morris was another one that the boss used to
make game of. Not so much as he would Spa-
tola, but still a good bit. Mr. Morris always
took it with a show of good temper; but under-
neath I could see that he too was sometimes furi-
ous."
"About what did Hume deride him?"
"That's what I never could quite make out.
It always seemed as though it was something that
Mr. Morris wanted. At first I got the notion
that it was something that he wanted to buy and
which Mr. Hume refused to sell; but later I
changed my mind. There seemed to be more to
it than appeared on the top. Both were very
secretive about it."
"I understand." Stillman's face wore a puz-
zled expression; it was as though this latter de-
velopment worried him. But in a few moments
he went on: "Do you know where this man
Morris is to be found?"
"Oh, yes. He's quite well known. Has an
office in the Blake Building, and is employed just
now, so I've heard, by the Navy Department."
"You have visited Christie Place to-day?"
"Yes, sir."
"Did the police have you look about?"
"Yes, sir. And so far as I can see, nothing
has been taken."
"The weapon that Hume was killed with, now.


92 ASHTON-KIRK
Do you know anything about it—did it belong to
the store?"
"The bayonet? No, sir."
"Are you sure of that?" earnestly.
"Positive. It was my duty to keep a complete
list of everything we had in stock. We had other
sorts of arms, but no such thing as a bayonet."
There were a few more questions, but as they
drew out nothing of interest, Stillman signified
to Brolatsky that the interview was at an end.
"Now, you will go with Mr. Curran to police
headquarters on the next floor," said he, "and
tell them what you have told me about this An-
tonio Spatola."
Then he opened the door and stepped out.
"Curran," they heard him say, importantly.
"I want you to "then the door closed, cutting
the sentence short.
Pendleton gazed fixedly at Ashton-Kirk.
'" I say," said he, "I'm not up in this sort of
thing at all. I've been putting two and two to-
gether, and it's led me into a deuce of a state."
Ashton-Kirk looked at him inquiringly; there
was expectancy in the investigator's eyes, but he
said nothing.
"Perhaps you'll think that I'm all kinds of a
fool," continued Pendleton, "and maybe I am.
But here are the things that I'm trying to mar-
shall in order. I'll take them just as they hap-


INVESTIGATOR
93
pened." He held up one hand and with the other
began to check off the counts upon his fingers.
"Yesterday you have a visit—a visit of a profes-
sional nature—from Edyth Vale. Last night she
strangely disappears for a time. At a most un-
conventional hour this morning I find you at her
door. Then I learn that you are on your way to
look into the details of a murder that you had
just heard of—somehow. Now I hear that Allan
Morris, Edyth's fiance, has been, in rather an
odd way, upon familiar terms with the murdered
man."
He paused as he checked this last count, still
regarding his friend fixedly.
"I don't claim," he went on, after a moment,
"that these things have anything to do with each
other. But, somehow, they've got together in my
mind, and I can't—i—"
Here the door re-opened and Stillman entered,
followed by the big German.
"Just take a chair, Mr. Berg," said the coro-
ner, seating himself at the desk and affixing his
eyeglasses.
The German lowered his form into the chair
indicated and folded his fat hands across his mon-
strous paunch.
"Your name in full—is what?" asked Stillman
with formality.
"Franz Berg. I sell me delicatessen at 478


94
ASHTON-KIRK
Christie Place. I haf been there for fifteen
years."
"You were acquainted with the murdered
man?"
The delicatessen dealer unfolded his hands and
waved them significantly.
"I was aguainted with him—yes. But I was
not friendly with him—no. He is dead, ain't it?
Und it's not right to say someding about the dead.
But he was no friend of mine."
"I understand. But tell me, Mr. Berg, how
late do you keep your place open?"
"In the summertime—seven o'clock. But af-
ter dose theaters open, I stays me on the chob
till twelve, or later somedimes. There is one—
two—three what you call burlesque places, right
by me; and no sooner do they close up, then right
away those actor peoples come to buy. I do a
goot business, so I keep open."
"Then you were there until midnight last
night?"
"More later than that yet?"
"Was there any movement of any sort about
Hume's place? Did you see or hear any-
thing?"
The great red face of Berg took on a solemn
look.
"It is maybe not ride that I should say some-
dings," complained he. "But if the law will not


INVESTIGATOR 95
excuse me, I will say it, if it makes some more
trouble or not."
"It is vitally necessary," stated the young coro-
ner, firmly, "that you tell me everything you
know about this matter."
"Well," said the delicatessen dealer, reluc-
tantly, "last night as I stood by my window look-
ing oudside on the street, I see me 'that Italian
feller go by und turn in at the side door; a second
lader I hear him go up the steps to Hume's place."
"What Italian fellow do you refer to?"
"He lifs close by me, a few doors away. His
name is Spatola, und he plays the violin the gurb-
» stones beside."
"What time was it that you saw him?"
"Maybe elefen o'clock. I am not sure. But
it was just a little while before I got me the rush
of customers from the theaters."
"Did you notice his manner? Was there any-
thing unusual in his looks?"
"I had me only a glimbs of him. He looked
about the same as effer. He was in a hurry, for
it rained a liddle; und under his coat yet he car-
ried his fiddle."
"If it was under his coat, how do you know it
was his fiddle?"
The German scratched his head in a reflective
way.
"I don't know it," said he at last. "But he


96 ASHTON-KIRK
somedimes takes his instrument inside there, und
I just get the notion that it was so. Yes?"
"When did he come out?"
The man shook his head.
"I don'd know," he said.
"Do you mean that you saw no one come out?"
"No; I did see someone come out. But first I
see me someone else go in."
"Ah! And who was that?"
"I don't know his name; but I had seen him
often before. He is a kind of svell feller. He
had a cane und plendy of style."
"And later you saw someone come out. Now,
your use of the word 'someone ' leads me to think
that you do not know whether it was Spatola or
the stranger."
"I don'd," said Berg. "I was busy then. I
just heard me someone rush down the stairs, mak-
ing plendy noise, und I heard that drunken Hume
lift up a window, stick out his head and call some
names after him. My customers laugh und think
it's a joke; but I am ashamed such a disgraceful-
ness to have around my business yet."
"If Hume called after the person who left,"
said Stillman, acutely, to Ashton-Kirk, "that elim-
inates one of the callers. It proves that Hume
was still alive after the man had gone."
"That is undoubtedly a fact," replied the inves-
tigator.
Stillman turned upon Berg with dignity.


INVESTIGATOR
"Surely you must have noticed the man if all
that uproar attended his exit. You must have
detected enough to mark a difference between an
exceptionally well-dressed man and an Italian
street musician."
Berg shook his big head.
"It was aboud twelve o'clock in the night-dime,
und my customers besides I had to pay some at-
tention to," stated he.
The coroner was baffled by the man's positive-
ness.
"Well," said he, resignedly. "What else did
you see?"
Berg shook his head once more.
"Nothing else. Putty soon I closed up and
went home." Then a flash of recollection came
into his dull face. "As I went down the street
I saw some lights in Hume's windows. One of
them windows was open—maybe the one he
sticked his head out of to call the man names—
und I could hear him laughing like he used to do
when he was trying to make a jackass of some
peoples."
The coroner pondered. At length he said:
"This object that Spatola carried under his
coat, now. Could it have been a bayonet?"
"No, no," said Berg with conviction. "It
vos too big. It vos bigger as a half dozen bayo-
nets already."
This seemed the limit of Berg's knowledge of


ASHTON-KIRK
the night's happenings; a few more questions and
then Stillman dismissed him. The door had hardly
closed when the telephone rang. After a few
words, the coroner hung up the receiver and turned
to his visitors.
"I think," said he, with a smile of satisfaction,
"that I've made the police department sit up a
little. They talked to all three of these people
before I had them, and didn't seem to get enough
to make a beginning. But just now," and the
smile grew wider, "I've heard that Osborne is
on his way to arrest Antonio Spatola."


CHAPTER VI
Ashton-Kirk Looks About
Berg was standing in the corridor waiting for the
elevator when Ashton-Kirk and Pendleton came
out. The big German mopped his face with a
handkerchief, and said apologetically:
"A man can only tell what he knows, ain't it?"
Ashton-Kirk looked at him questioningly, but
said nothing.
"To begin dot guess-work business when you
are talking to the law already, it is dangerous,"
stated Berg in an explanatory tone.
"Well," said Ashton-Kirk, "sometimes a good,
pointed guess is of great service, Mr. Berg.
And," with a laugh, "as I am not the law and not
the least dangerous, suppose you make the one
that I can see you turning over in your mind."
"Oh," said Berg, "you are not the coroner's
office in?"
"No; merely interested in this case, that's all."
The delicatessen dealer looked relieved.
"I don't want to get people in trouble," said
he, guardedly. "But this is what I guess. Late
every night, about the time I shut up my place,
99


ASHTON-KIRK
there is a cab comes und by the curbstone stands
across the street. I will not say what is der
place it stands in front of; that is not my busi-
ness."
"McCausland's gambling house, perhaps,"
suggested Ashton-Kirk.
The big German looked more relieved than
ever.
"Ach, so you know about dot place, eh? All
ride. Now I can speak out and not be afraid to
do some harm to nobody." He lowered his voice
still further. "Dot cab came last night as I was
locking my door up, und stands the curbstone by
in front of McCausland's, waiting for a chob.
Maybe when I goes away home der driver he
sees what happened at Hume's afterwards, eh?"
"Excellent!" said Ashton-Kirk, his eyes alight.
"Thanks for the hint, Mr. Berg."
The delicatessen dealer lumbered into the eleva-
tor which had stopped; Pendleton was about to
follow, but his friend detained him, and the car
dropped downward without them.
"That cab," said Ashton-Kirk, "is sure to be
a night-hawk; and more than likely it is put up at
Partridge's. Pardon me a moment."
There was a telephone booth at one side of the
corridor; the speaker went in and closed the door.
After a few moments he came out.
"Just as I thought," he said, well pleased.


INVESTIGATOR 101
"Partridge knew the cab in a moment. The
driver's name is Sams, and he lives at the place
they call the Beehive." He looked at his watch.
"It wants but a few minutes of four," he added,
"and a night-hawk cabby will be just about stir-
ring. The Beehive is only three blocks away;
suppose we go around and look him up."
Pendleton agreed instantly; and after a brisk
walk and a breathless climb, they found them-
selves on the fourth floor of a huge brick build-
ing where they had been directed by a meek-look-
ing woman in a dust-cap. A long hall with a
great many doors upon each side, all looking alike,
stretched away before them.
"It's very plain that the only way to find Mr.
Sams is to make a noise," said Ashton-Kirk. And
with that he stalked down the hall, his heels clat-
tering on the bare boards. "Hello," he cried
loudly. "Sams is wanted! Hello, Sams!"
A door opened, and a face covered with thick
soap suds and surmounted by a tangle of sandy
hair looked out.
"Hello," growled this person, huskily. "Who
wants him?"
"Very glad to see you, Mr. Sams," said Ash-
ton-Kirk. "We have a small matter of business
with you that will require a few moments of your
time. May we come in?"
"Sure," said Sams.


ASHTON-KIRK
They entered the room, which contained a bed,
a trunk, a wash-stand, and a chair.
"One of you can take the chair; the other can
sit on the trunk," said the hack driver, nodding
toward these articles. Then he proceeded to strop
a razor at one of the windows. "Excuse me if
I go on with this reaping. I must go out and
feed the horse, and then get breakfast."
"You breakfast rather late," commented Ash-
ton-Kirk.
"I'm lucky to get it at any time, in this busi-
ness," grumbled Sams. "Out all night, sleep all
day, and get blamed little for it, at that."
He posed before a small mirror stuck up be-
side the window and gave the blade an experi-
mental sweep across his face. Then he turned
and asked inquiringly:
"Did youse gents want anything particular?"
"We'd like to ask a question or two regarding
what happened last night in Christie Place."
The cab driver's forehead corrugated; he closed
his razor, laid it down and shoved his'soapy face
toward the speaker.
"Say," spoke he, roughly. "I drives people
wherever they wants to go; but I don't ask no
questions."
"It's all right, Mr. Sams," said Ashton-Kirk.
"The affair that I'm looking up happened across
the street—at Hume's—second floor of 478."


INVESTIGATOR 103
"Oh!" Sams stared for a moment, then he
took up his razor, turned his back and went on
with his shaving. But there was expectancy in
his attitude; and Ashton-Kirk smiled confidently.
"While you were drawn up in Christie Place,
waiting for a fare," he asked, "did you hear or
see anything at 478?"
"I saw a light on the second floor—something
I never saw before at that hour. And I saw the
Dutchman that keeps the store underneath shut-
ting up. And I heard somebody laughing up-
stairs," as a second thought. "I think that's
what made me notice the light."
"Nothing else?"
Sams shaved and considered. He wiped his
razor at last, poured some water in a bowl and
doused his face. Then he took up a towel and
began applying it briskly.
The investigator, watching him closely, saw that
he was not trying to recall anything. It was plain
that the man was merely calculating the possibili-
ties of harm to himself and patrons if he told
what he knew.
^" There has been a murder," said Ashton-Kirk,
quietly, thinking to jog him along.
Sams threw the towel from him and sat down
upon the bed.
"A murder! " said he, his eyes and mouth wide
open. "Well, what do you know about that."


104
ASHTON-KIRK
He sat looking from one to the other of them,
dazedly, for a space; then he resumed: "Say, I
thought there was something queer about that
stunt of hersl"
"Tell us about it," suggested Ashton-Kirk,
crossing his legs and clasping one knee with his
hands.
The cabby considered once more.
"There's lots of things that a guy like me sees
that look off color," he said, at length; "but we
can't always pass any remarks about them. It
would be bad for business, you see. But this mur-
der thing's a different proposition, and here's
where I tell it all. Last night while I was waiting
in front of McCausland's, I hears an automobile
turn into the street. It was some time after I
got there. I wouldn't have paid much attention
to it, but you see there's a fellow been trying to
get my work with a taxicab, and I thought it was
him."
"And it wasn't?"
"No, it was a private car—a Maillard, and
there was a woman driving it."
The chair upon which Pendleton sat was an in-
firm one; it creaked sharply as he made a sudden
movement.
"She was going at a low speed," proceeded
Sams, "and as she passed Hume's I noticed her
look up at the windows. After she disappeared


INVESTIGATOR 105
there wasn't a sound for a while. You see, no-
body hardly ever passes through Christie Place
after one o'clock. Then I hears her coming back.
This time she stopped the car, got out and went
to the door that leads into Hume's place. There
she stopped a little, as though she didn't know
whether to go in or not. But at last she went in."
Pendleton coughed huskily at this point; and
his friend glancing at him saw that his face was
white.
"And up to that time," said Ashton-Kirk, "are
you sure that there was no movement—no sound
1—in the front room at Hume's?"
"As far a3 I noticed, there wasn't. But a
few minutes after I heard the woman go in, I did
hear some sounds."
The man stroked his shaven jaws in the delib-
erate manner of a person about to precipitate a
crisis. Pendleton leaned toward him, anxiously.
"What sort of sounds?" he asked.
"There were two," replied the cab driver.
"The first was a revolver shot; the second came
right after, and was a kind of a scream—like that
of a parrot."
"And what then?" asked Ashton-Kirk, easily.
"There wasn't anything for a few minutes, any-
way. But the revolver shot had kind of got my
attention, so I was taking notice of the windows.
Then suddenly I caught sight of the woman. You


io6 ASHTON-KIRK
see, the gas-light was near the window and she
kind of leaned over and turned it out. It was
only for a time as long as that," and the man
snapped his fingers. "But I saw her plain.
Then I heard her coming down the stairs to the
street—almost at a run. She banged the street
door shut after her, jumped into her car and went
tearing away as if she was crazy. I stayed fifteen
minutes before I got a fare; but nothing else
happened."
Pendleton's hand closed hard on the edge of the
chair he sat in. There was a moment's silence;
then Ashton-Kirk asked:
"Just where was your cab standing at this
time?"
"Right in front of McCausland's door."
"And you were on the box?"
"Yes."
The investigator put a piece of money in the
man's hand as he and Pendleton arose and pre-
pared to go.
"Say," said Sam curiously, "I've been in bed
all day and ain't heard a word of anything.
Who's been done up?"
"Hume. Stabbed in the chest."
"Shot, you mean."
"No, I mean stabbed. With a bayonet."
The man stared wonderingly.
"G'way," he said.


INVESTIGATOR 107
They bid him good-day and tramped down the
three long flights to the street. Pendleton was
silent, and walked with his head held down.
"We have more than an hour of good daylight
left," said his friend, as they reached the street.
"And as I must have a good unrestricted look at
Hume's apartments before everything is hope-
lessly changed about, suppose we go there now.
We can get a taxi in the next street."
"Just a moment," said Pendleton. "Before
we take another step in the matter, Kirk, I must
ask a question."
Ashton-Kirk put his hand upon his friend's
shoulder.
"Don't," said he. "I know just what the
question would be, and at the present time I can't
answer it. At this moment, except for some few
theories that I have yet to verify, I am as much
puzzled as yourself."
"But," and there was a tremble in the speak-
er's voice, "you must answer me, old chap—and
you must answer now."
The catch in his voice, the expression upon the
young man's face caused Ashton-Kirk to grasp an
astonishing fact. The hand that he had laid
upon Pendleton's shoulder tightened as he an-
swered:
"Yes, Edyth Vale is concerned. As a rule I
do not speak of my clients to others, but in view


io8
ASHTON-KIRK
of what you have already heard and seen, it would
be a waste of words to deny it. But, see here,
there are lots of things we don't know yet about
this business. It may look very different in a few
hours. Come."
Pendleton gazed with sober eyes into the speak-
er's face for a moment. Then he said:
"Let us get the cab; if you are to go over
Hume's rooms before dark, you haven't any too
much time."
At the next corner they signaled a taxicab, and
in a short time they were set down in Christie
Place. Paulson, the policeman, was standing
guard.
"How are you?" he greeted them affably.
"Been here all day?" asked Ashton-Kirk.
"Oh, no. Just come on. I'm the third shift
since I saw you last."
"Nobody has been permitted to go upstairs, I
presume?"
"Only the coroner's man, who came for the
body. And they touched nothing but the body.
Our orders were strong on that."
"Has anything been heard as the result of the
post-mortem?"
"It showed that Hume was in bad shape from
too much drink. Then he had a hard knock on
the head, and the wound in his chest."
"But there was no sign of a bullet wound?"


INVESTIGATOR 109
"No," said Paulson, surprised. "Nothing
like that."
"Just a moment," said the investigator to Pen-
dleton. He crossed the street, walked along for
a few paces, then paused at the curb and looked
back toward Hume's doorway. Then he re-
turned with quick steps and an alert look in his
eyes.
"Now we'll go upstairs," he said.
But before doing so he stopped and examined
the lock of the street door closely; then he
mounted the stairs slowly, his glances seeming to
take in everything. At the top he paused, his
head bent, apparently in deep thought. Then he
lifted it suddenly, and laughed exultantly.
"That's it," he said, "I'm quite sure that is it."
"I wouldn't doubt your word for an instant,"
said Pendleton, in something like his old voice.
"Whatever it is, I'm quite sure it is if you say so."
The policeman on guard in the hall examined
them carefully.
"All right," said he, after they had explained
and he had verified it by calling to his mate at
the street door. "Go right to work, gents. I'm
here to see that nobody gets in from above by
way of the scuttle, and I guess I won't be in the
way."
There were three gas branches at intervals
along the length of the dim hall, each with a clus-


no ASHTON-KIRK
ter of four jets. Ashton-Kirk lighted all three
of these and began making a careful examination
of the passage. Along toward the rear was a
stairway leading to the floor above. Next this
was a small room in which there was a water tap.
At the extreme end of the hall was a window with
a green shade drawn to the bottom.
Ashton-Kirk regarded this for a moment in-
tently. Then he reached up and turned off the
gas at the branch nearest the window. Daylight
could now be seen through the blind; the investi-
gator pointed and said:
"This shows us something. About six inches
of the bottom of the blind is of a decidedly
lighter color than the remainder. This is caused
by exposure to the light and indicates that this
blind has seldom been drawn in daylight as it is
now."
He drew back the blind and looked at the side
nearest the window. At the top of the faded
space was a heavy dark line.
"I'll modify that last statement," said he, with
satisfaction. "I'll go as far as to say, now, that
the blind has never been drawn since it was put
up. This thick line marks the part that lay across
the top of the roller, and the dust seems never to
have been disturbed."
The gas was lighted once more.
"Hume did not draw that curtain," said Ash-


INVESTIGATOR
in
ton-Kirk, decidedly. "He was too careless a
man, apparently, to think of such a thing. The
intruders, whoever they were, did it; they had a
light, perhaps, and did not want to be"
He paused abruptly here, and Pendleton heard
him draw his breath sharply between his teeth;
his eyes were fixed upon the lowermost step of
the flight that led to the floor above.
One of the gas branches hung here; its full
glare was thrown downward. Following the fixed
gaze of his friend, Pendleton saw two partly
burned matches, the stump of a candle, and some
traces of tallow which had fallen from the latter
upon the step. To Pendleton's amazement, his
friend dropped to his knees before these as a
heathen would before an idol. With the utmost
attention he examined them and the step upon
which they lay. Then he arose, enthusiasm upon
his face.
"Beautiful 1" he cried. "I do not recall ever
having seen anything just like it!" He slapped
Pendleton upon the back with a heavy hand.
"Pen, that stump of candle sheds more light than
the finest arc lamp ever manufactured."
"I'm watching and I'm listening," spoke Pen-
dleton. "Also I'm agitating my small portion of
gray matter. But inspiration, it seems, is not for
me. So I'll have to ask you what these things
tell you."


ii2 ASHTON-KIRK
"Well, they give me a fairly good view of the
man who, while he may not actually have mur-
dered Hume, had much to do with his taking
off." He bent over the lower step once more,
then looked up with a smile upon his face. "What
would you say," asked he, "if I told you that I
draw from these things that the gentleman was
short, well-dressed, near-sighted and knew some-
thing of the modern German dramatists."
"I should say," replied Pendleton, firmly, "that
you ought to have your brain looked at. It
sounds wrong to me."
Ashton-Kirk laughed, and started up the stairs
toward the third floor.
"I'll return in a moment," he said. "Don't
trouble to come up."
He was gone but a very little while, and when
he returned his face wore a satisfied look.
"The bolt of the scuttle is broken, just as Os-
borne said," he reported. "And anyone who could
gain the roof would have little difficulty in effect-
ing an entrance." He led the way down the hall,
saying as he went: "Now we'll browse around in
the rooms for a while; then we'll be off to dinner."
The storage room was entered first as upon the
earlier visit, but Ashton-Kirk wasted but little
time upon it. In the front room, however, he
examined things with a minuteness that amazed
Pendleton. And yet everything was done quickly;


INVESTIGATOR 113
like a keen-nosed hound, the investigator went
from one object to another; nothing seemed to
escape him, nothing was too small for his atten-
tion. One of the first things that he did was to
get a chair and plant it against the lettered door
that led directly into the hall. At the top was
a gong with a spring-hammer, one of the sort that
rings its warning whenever the door is opened;
and this the investigator examined with care.
He then passed into the railed space where the
body had lain and where the darkened trail of
blood still bore ghastly testimony to what had
occurred. The man's singular eyes scanned the
floor, the walls, the flat-topped desk. On this
last his attention again became riveted; and once
more Pendleton heard his breath drawn sharply
between his teeth.
"When Hume was struck upon the head," said
Ashton-Kirk, after a moment, "he was standing
at this desk. He had just sprung up, probably
upon hearing a sound of some kind. See where
the chair is pushed back against the wall, ju§t as
he would have pushed it had he arisen hastily.
When he struck he fell across the desk." He
pointed to a dark trickle of blood down the back
of the piece of furniture in question. "That is
the result of the blow upon the head, and proba-
bly flowed from the mouth or nostrils. After the
first senseless lurch the body settled back and slid


ii4 ASHTON-KIRK
to the position in which it was found. Here is
a blotting pad, a small pair of shears, a box of
clips and a letter scale upon the floor where the
sliding body dragged them. The top of the
desk is of polished wood; it is perfectly smooth;
there are no crevices or anything of the sort to
catch hold of anything. When the body slipped
from it, it must have swept everything with it,
cleanly. And yet," bending forward over the
desk and picking up a minute blue particle, "here,
directly in the center, we find this."
"What is it?" asked Pendleton, eagerly.
Ashton-Kirk placed the blue particle on his
palm and held it out. It was shaped like a key-
stone, and had apparently been cut from some-
thing that had been printed upon.
"It is that portion of a railroad ticket which a
conductor's punch bites out, and which litters the
floor and the seats in trains. Have you never had
one fall from your clothes after a railroad jour-
ney?"
Pendleton looked at the tiny blue fragment, and
then at the desk.
"If Hume fell across the desk, as you've just
said," he remarked, slowly, "and pulled all these
other things to the floor with him—why, Kirk,
this bit of card, in the very center of the polished
top,—it must have dropped there afterwards."
"Exactly," said Ashton-Kirk. "And now, if


INVESTIGATOR
you don't mind, just step out into the hall and
ask Paulson to come up."
Pendleton did so; and while he was gone, Ash-
ton-Kirk placed the blue fragment carefully in
his card-case. When the other re-entered with
Paulson at his heels, he asked:
"Have any of the policemen detailed here been
out of town recently?"
"No," replied Paulson. "There have been
five besides myself, and they have been on duty
every day."
"Thank you," said the investigator. And as
the policeman went out, he made his way into the
kitchen. Here, however, his examination was
brief, as was that of the bedroom also. At length
he paused, his hands in his pockets, his head
thrown back, satisfaction lighting his dark, keen
face.
"That is all, I think," said he. "There have
only been a few pages, but the print has been ex-
ceedingly good and the matter of much interest."
He looked at a clock that ticked solemnly upon a
shelf. "We have half an hour to reach my place
and dress," he said. "I'm afraid that we'll be
late, and that Edouard will be annoyed. His
cookery is so exquisitely timed that it is scarcely
the better for delay."
"Wait a minute," said Pendleton, grasping his
friend's arm. "What part did Edyth—Miss


n6 ASHTON-KIRK
Vale—play in all this? I can see you have
formed in your mind some sort of completed
action. Where does she come into it?"
"Completed!" Ashton-Kirk smiled into the
pale, set face of his friend. "You give me too
much credit, old chap. I have some undoubted
scenes from the drama; but most of the remainder
are merely detached lines and bits of stage busi-
ness. As to Miss Vale," here the smile van-
ished, "I have been unable to make up my mind
just how far she is concerned, if at all. How-
ever, perhaps twenty-four hours will make it 111 v
clear enough. In the meantime I will say this to
you: Don't jump to harsh conclusions, Pen. You
know this young lady well. How far do you
suppose she would go to the perpetrating of a
downright crime?"
"Not a step!" answered Pendleton, promptly.
"Then," said Ashton-Kirk, "until we know
positively that she has done so, stick to that."


CHAPTER VII
The Schwartz-Michael Bayonet
As Ashton-Kirk and Pendleton sat in the former's
library that evening after dinner, there came a
knock upon the door and Fuller entered briskly.
In his hand he carried a paper parcel which he
laid upon a stand at the investigator's elbow.
"This is the bayonet, sir," said he. "Mr. Still-
man, the coroner, objected to letting me have it
at first, but changed his mind after I had talked
to him for a while."
"Did you take the photograph to Berg in
Christie Place?"
"Yes, sir. He recognized it at once as that
of the person in question."
*' And you made inquiries upon the other
point?"
"I did. Neither Mr. Stillman nor any of the
men who removed the body of Hume have been
out of town within a week. I also questioned
Mr. Osborne; his answer was the same. Brolat-
sky's reply was similar; and he also said that
Hume had not ridden on a railroad in years."
117


n8
ASHTON-KIRK
"That will be all, Fuller; thank you."
The brisk young man had reached the door
when the investigator added:
"One moment."
He scribbled something upon a pad, tore off the
leaf and handed it to his aid.
"Look these things up at once."
Fuller took the paper, glanced at it and then
replied:
"Very well, sir."
Seated in his big chair with the jar of Greek
tobacco and sheaf of brown paper wrappers be-
fore him, Ashton-Kirk did not display any haste
in removing the covering from the bayonet that
had let the life out of the art dealer. Rather he
sank deeper into the arms of the chair; the ciga-
rette end became gray and dead between his fin-
gers; the strangely brilliant eyes closed as though
he had fallen asleep.
But Pendleton, who understood his friend's
ways, knew better; the keen, swift-moving mind
was but arranging the developments of the day,
weighing them, giving to each their proper value.
A little later and the eyes would unclose, more than
likely alight with some new idea, some fresh pur-
pose drawn from his reflections.
And as Pendleton waited he, too, fell into a
musing state and also began marshaling the facts
as he saw them. Ashton-Kirk, during dinner, had


120
ASHTON-KIRK
line. But it seems clear that Edyth—after leav-
ing here yesterday—received some unexpected
news. When she was here, consulting Kirk, she
was, to all appearances, in a quandary—helpless.
She did not know how to proceed; she understood
nothing. But her darting off alone that way after
midnight proves that some sort of a crisis had
come up. She had heard something—more than
likely through Morris. He probably," with
great contempt, "became hysterical again, couldn't
contain himself and blabbed everything—what-
ever it was."
Then he burst out aloud, angrily.
"She went to Hume's last night because she had
reason to think Morris would be there. And if
the truth were know, Morris was there."
"My dear fellow," said the voice of Ashton-
Kirk, "the truth, upon that particular point, at
least, is known. Allan Morris was at Hume's
last night. He was the man whom Berg saw
enter after the musician."
"How do you know?" asked Pendleton, aston-
ished.
"Fuller, with a report which he recently made
upon Morris, handed me a photograph of that
gentleman. While we were at dinner, Berg iden-
tified the portrait as being that of Hume's secret
visitor."
"I was right, then. Edyth did go there expect-


122
ASHTON-KIRK
ton-Kirk. *' But I have found, through experi-
ence, that there must be no loose ends left to hang.
Such things are treacherous; you never know when
they'll trip you up and upset all your calculations."
He paused a moment and regarded his friend
steadfastly. Then he continued. "But, just
now, I think we had better not trouble ourselves
about Edyth Vale and Allan Morris. To be sure,
the latter's connection with the affair is peculiar;
Miss Vale's visit to Hume's last night, the sounds
which Sams heard immediately after she had gone
in—her turning out of the gas and hurried flight,
are also strange #nd significant enough. But they
are perhaps the very end of the story; and it is
best never to begin at the end."
"Is there any way by which you can begin at
what you think is the beginning?" asked the
other.
Ashton-Kirk took up the parcel which Fuller
had laid at his elbow.
"Here is one way," he answered. "Let us
see where it leads us."
He stripped off the wrapper, and the bayonet
which had killed the numismatist was revealed,
blood-clotted and ugly. Carefully the investiga-
tor examined the broad, powerful blade and heavy
bronze hilt.
"A Schwartz-Michael, just as I thought,''' he
said.


INVESTIGATOR 123
"The maker's name is upon it then?" said
Pendleton.
But the other shook his head.
"No," said he. "But it happens that I have
given some attention to arms, and the bayonet,
though a weapon that is passing, came in for its
share."
He balanced the murderous-looking thing in his
hand and proceeded.
"There are not many types of bayonets. The
first was what they called a ' Plug,' because it was
made to fit into the muzzle of a flint, or match-
lock. Then there was the socket bayonet, the ring
bayonet and an improved weapon invented by an
English officer named Chillingworth which met
with much favor in the armies of Europe. But
the latest development is the sword bayonet, of
which this is an example. Its form is a great
improvement over the older makes; it is an almost
perfect side arm as well, having a cutting edge, a
point, and a grip exactly like that of a sword.
There are a number of makes of this type; the
Schwartz-Michael is one of the least known of
these. Upon its being placed on the market it
was adopted by three governments—Bolivia,
Servia, and Turkey—and there it stopped."
■He laid the weapon upon the table and settled
himself back in his chair.
"It struck me when I first saw the thing," he


124 ASHTON-KIRK
went on, "that it was a little singular that a
Schwartz-Michael should even find its way into
the United States. Now, it would not surprise
me to find an English revolver in Patagonia, or an
American rifle in Thibet, because they are uni-
versally known and used. Any one might carry
them. But a bayonet is different, of course; it
is a strictly military arm, and its utility is limited.
That a criminal should select one with which to
commit a murder is unusual; and, further, the fact
that the make is one never introduced into the
United States is rather remarkable."
"It is—a little," agreed Pendleton.
"It is a small thing, but all clews are small
things. Now there are many ways in which such
a weapon might find its way into the country; but
I took the most likely of these as a beginning.
Before I dressed for dinner, I ran over a rather
complete card-index system which I maintain; and
within a few minutes learned that the republic
of Bolivia had, within the past year, changed both
the rifle and bayonet used by its army."
"Well?" asked Pendleton, with interest.
"When a nation makes such a change, the dis-
carded arms are usually bought up by some large
speculator or dealer in such things. And in the
course of time they find their way to the military
goods dealers who exist all over the world."
Here Fuller entered the room, and Ashton-
Kirk turned to him inquiringly.


INVESTIGATOR 125
"Well?"
"In the morning Standard of April 9th," an-
nounced the young man, "I find an advertisement
of Bernstine Brothers relative to a sale of con-
demned army equipment."
"Is anything specified?"
"They considered it important that high-power
modern rifles were to be sold at a very small price.
And they also lay some stress upon the fact that
the stuff had been in use by the Bolivian army."
Pendleton saw a look of satisfaction come into
his friend's eyes. But there was no other evi-
dence of anything unusual.
"And now," said the investigator, quietly,
"with regard to this other matter."
"I find that there are two schools for mutes in
this section," answered Fuller. "But both are
some distance out of town."
The satisfaction in Ashton-Kirk's singular eyes
deepened.
"Excellent," said he.
"One is on the main line—Kittridge Station;
the other is on the Hammondsville Branch at a
place called Cordova."
"Thank you," said Ashton-Kirk.
And when the door had once more closed be-
hind his aid, the investigator continued to Pendle-
ton:
"I figured upon some of the equipment reach-
ing here. Military goods houses, such as Bern-


ASHTON-KIRK
stlne's, usually advertise each lot they receive; and
I considered it possible that the murderer might
have been attracted by this notice and procured
the weapon from them. If he did, we may get
some trace of him by inquiring at Bernstine's.
But," flinging his arms wide and yawning as
though weary of the subject, "that is work for
to-morrow. To-night we will rest and prepare
for what is to come. But in the meantime," aris-
ing with enthusiasm, "let me show you a first edi-
tion of the 'Knickerbocker's History of New
York' which I picked up recently."
He went to his book-shelves and took down two
faded volumes. With eager hands Pendleton
took them from him.
"Original covers I" cried he. "Binding un-
broken; in perfect condition inside; not a spot
or a stain anywhere." Then he regarded his
friend with undisguised envy. "Kirk," said he,
"you're a lucky dog. You can dig up more good
things than anybody else that I know."


CHAPTER VIII
The Newspapers Begin to Play Their Part
Next morning Ashton-Kirk lounged in a com-
fortable window-seat, almost knee-deep in news-
papers. The published accounts of the assassina-
tion were, in some instances, very sensational.
Drawings, by special artists of persons concerned,
were much in evidence, also half-tones of the ex-
terior of 478 Christie Place. The names of Os-
borne and Stillman figured largely in the types;
but what interested the investigator most was a
portrait of the musician—the violinist, Antonio
Spatola, and the story of his arrest.
The pictured face was that of a young man with
a great head of curling hair. The features were
regular, the expression eager and appealing.
"I would have pronounced him a musician, even
if I had not heard that he was one," said Ashton-
Kirk. "The head and face formations have all
the qualities." Then he ran over the story of
Spatola's arrest and the causes that led up to it.
At the finish he smiled. "They have tried and
convicted him on the first page. If there was
any way for them to do it, they'd execute him in
127


128 ASHTON-KIRK
the evening editions and print his dying words
in the sporting extra. But," and he nodded his
head appreciatively, "Osborne has a good case
against him, at that."
Both the clerk, Isidore Brolatsky, and Berg
seemed to have talked freely to the newspaper-
men. The character of Hume was treated in a
highly colored manner. The visits of the Italian
musician to the numismatist, his ambition to shine
as another Kubelik, his ungovernable temper, the
high words that followed Hume's frequent sneers
at his ambition and the fact that he once drew a
knife upon his tormentor, were presented in full.
But what appealed to the space-writers most was
Brolatsky's story of how Hume had once called
Spatola "Mad Anthony," and afterward showed
him the portrait of General Wayne.
"This apparently drove him frantic," wrote
one reporter, "and, noting this, Hume frequently
applied the name to him, and more than likely
displayed the portrait as well. The last time that
Spatola visited Hume was upon the night of the
murder. He evidently went to regale the numis-
matist with music; for the delicatessen dealer,
Berg, saw under his coat what was evidently his
violin. During the course of the concert, Hume
probably resumed his sneers; unable any longer to
bear it, the Italian apparently struck him down,
ana then in blind rage of resentment, smashed and


INVESTIGATOR 129
otherwise destroyed every one of the Wayne por-
traits he could find."
Fuller came in with another newspaper just
about this time and Ashton-Kirk showed him the
story.
"The Standard, then, seems to ignore the the-
ory held by Osborne and Stillman that the murder
was done in an attempt to steal the portrait found
partly cut from the frame," said the assistant after
studying the account. Then, inquiringly, he
added: "What do you think of it, sir?"
"As a piece of sensational writing, I have no
fault to find with it," said the investigator. "But
the Standard's young man is no deep thinker.
The single fact that Hume was a lover of real
music should have shown him that his theory
was wrong."
Fuller considered a moment.
"I don't think I quite get that," said he.
"It is simple enough. Hume being sensitive
to harmony, asked Spatola very frequently to play
for him; and, according to Brolatsky, paid him
rather well for each performance. To furnish
good music, Spatola must not only have talent,
but also a violin that was at least fairly good."
"Yes, sir, I see that."
"Having a violin that was at least fairly good,
Spatola, being a poor man, would take care of it.
He would carry it in a case—he would especially


13o ASHTON-KIRK
do so in wet or damp weather. And it rained on
the night of the murder. If he carried his violin
in a case, there was no need of his putting it
under his coat. And, another thing, a violin case
is of such size as to prevent its being so carried,
isn't it?"
Fuller nodded.
"I think that's very good," said he.
"It would have been a very easy thing for the
Standard's man to have made a few inquiries as
to whether Spatola used a violin case or no. If
he had done so, I am inclined to think that the
answers would have been in the affirmative. But
there is another and more vital point upon whicB
I would base an objection to the reporter's theory.
He says that, goaded into a rage, Spatola struck
his tormentor down. But he forgets that if the
murderer did not visit Hume's with the intention
of doing murder, it was rather a freakish thing
for him to provide himself with a bayonet. How-
ever, that is a point that I discussed with Mr.
Stillman yesterday; at first he was inclined to
assume a somewhat similar position."
"But the broken and cut portraits?" questioned
Fuller.
Ashton-Kirk smiled a little.
"Probably I shall be able to properly account
for them when I return from a little trip that I am
about to take to-day," said he. "That is," as a


INVESTIGATOR 131
sort of afterthought, "if some things turn out as
I think they will."
Fuller unfolded the newspaper that he had
brought in.
"It is a late edition of the Star," he said. "The
paper seems to have scored a beat, for it has some
developments that may put a different face upon
everything."
Ashton-Kirk took the sheet, and as he glanced
at the flaring headlines, he whistled softly. The
lines read:
"MYSTERIOUS WOMAN IN M MOTOR
CAR!
"She iVisits 478 Christie Place on the Night of
Murder!
"Did a Beautiful Woman's Hand Deal
the Deadly Blow?
"A New Element Added to the Hume Sensation!"
"The Star man seems to have struck up an
acquaintance with Sams," said Ashton-Kirk, with
interest. He thought for a moment, and then
added to Fuller:
"Tell Stumph when Miss Edyth Vale arrives
to show her here at once."
"Oh, you have been expecting her then?"
"No: I have not. But I am now."


132
ASHTON-KIRK
After Fuller left the room, the investigator
turned eagerly to the Star's leaded narrative.
This laid great stress upon the evident wealth
and dazzling beauty of the mysterious midnight
visitor in Christie Place; and second only to her
did they feature the well-dressed stranger whom
Berg had seen enter at Hume's door before he
had closed his own place for the night. The
revolver shot that had followed the woman's en-
trance and the parrot-like scream which had, in
turn, followed that, lost nothing in the telling.
"Who was the woman? That is the mystery,"
the newspaper said in conclusion. "The hack
driver caught but a glimpse of her, and in the
excitement of the moment failed to take the num-
ber of the car. But that the latter was a Mail-
lard he is positive. There are several headquar-
ter's men following up the clew as this goes to
press; and startling developments are expected at
any moment.
"As to the second man whom the fancy grocer,
Barg, saw go into Hume's, there is a well-founded
belief that he is very well known in select circles
and had called at Hume's frequently upon a mat-
ter concerning which both he and Hume were al-
ways very secretive. The Star called up both his
apartments and his office, but he had not been
seen at either place on the day after the murder.
The clubs of which he is a member were resorted


134
ASHTON-KIRK
"Follow up anything that promises results con-
cerning Morris' father. Especially find out if he
ever knew Hume. Get every fact that can be
gathered about the latter. You, or rather Bur-
gess, hinted in the preliminary report that it was
thought that he had at one time lived abroad. If
it is possible, establish that fact. In any event,
go into his history as deeply as you can."
"Very well," said Fuller, with the easy manner
of a person accustomed to carrying out difficult
orders.
As the young man went out at one door, Stumph
knocked upon another; then Miss Edyth Vale,
very pale, but entirely composed, was shown into
the room.
f


CHAPTER IX
Miss Vale Tells What She Knows
Ashton-Kirk arose, kicked aside the litter of
newspapers, and placed a chair for his visitor.
"Your man told me that I was expected," she
said. "How did you know that I would come
this morning?"
"I knew that you'd be sure to read the news-
papers," said he. "And I was pretty confident
as to the effect the Star's account would have."
She sat down quietly and for a few moments
did not speak. A slight trembling of the lower
lip was the only indication of the strain under
which she was laboring. Finally she said:
"I am very sorry that I deceived you yester-
day morning."
He waved his hand lightly.
"I was not deceived; so there was no harm
done," he explained.
She began tugging nervously at her gloves,
much as she had done a few mornings before.
Her face was still composed; but deep in her beau-
tiful eyes was an expression of fear.
"I might have known that I could not do it,"
135


136 ASHTON-KIRK
she said. "But the impulse came to me to deny
everything as the easiest and safest way out of
it all; and I obeyed it. I was not calm enough
to consider the possible harm that it might do.
However," and her firm voice broke a little, "I
suppose the newspapers would have ferr£ted out
the facts in any event."
"They are very keen in the pursuit of anything
that promises a good story," agreed the investi-
gator. "But if you had given me the facts as
you intended doing when you called me on the
'phone yesterday morning, I'd have had twenty-
four hours start of them, at least."
She leaned toward him earnestly.
"I am going to be Frank with you now," she
said. "And perhaps it is not yet too late. I did
intend telling you everything when I telephoned
you, but, as I have said, the impulse came to hide
it, instead!"
"It was fear," said Ashton-Kirk, "and was,
perhaps, perfectly natural under the circum-
stances."
"When I left you two mornings ago," said
Miss Vale, "I felt easier in my mind than I had
in months before. From what I had heard of you,
I felt sure that the little problem which I had set
you would prove absurdly simple. This feeling
clung to me all day; I was light and happy, and
astonished my aunt, Mrs. Page, by consenting to


INVESTIGATOR 137
go with her to Mrs. Barron's that night, a thing
that I had been refusing to do for a long time.
"Late in the afternoon, Allan—Mr. Morris—
came. As soon as I saw him I knew that some-
thing had happened or was about to happen.
There was no color in his face; his eyes had a
feverish glitter, his voice was high pitched and
excited. But I did not let him see that I noticed
this. I talked to him quietly about a score of
things; and by a most circuitous route approached
the matter that interested me most—our marriage.
"To my surprise he plunged into the subject
with the greatest eagerness. Before that, as I
have told you, he always did his best to avoid it;
the least mention of it seemed to sadden him, to
cause him pain. But now he discussed it ex-
citedly; apparently it was no longer a dim, far-
off thing, but one which he saw very clearly. As
you may imagine, I was both astonished and de-
lighted. But this was only at first. In a little
while I noticed something in his tone, in his man-
ner, in his feverish eyes that I did not like."
She paused for a moment; Ashton-Kirk clasped
his knee with both hands and regarded her with
interest.
"It was a sort of subdued fierceness," continued
Miss Vale—" as though he were setting his face
against some invisible force and defying it. When
he mentioned our happiness that was to be, I


i38 ASHTON-KIRK
could see his hands close tightly, I could read
menace in the set of his jaw. As he was going,
he said to me:
"' There has been something—a something
that you've never been able to understand—keep-
ing us apart. But it is about at an end. Human
nature endures a great deal, sometimes, but it's
endurance does not last forever. To-night, my
dear, puts an end to my endurance. I am going
to show what I should have shown long ago—■
that I'm a man.'
"Then he went away, and I was frightened.
All sorts of possibilities presented themselves to
me—vague, indefinite, formless terrors. I tried
to shake them off, but could not. It became firmly
fixed in my mind that something was going to
happen1—that Allan was about to-^—to"
here the steady voice faltered once more, "totake
a step that would bring danger upon him.
"And that night I went to Mrs. Barron's as I
had promised. I talked to people—I laughed—
I even danced. But never for a moment did the
fear cease gripping at my heart. At last I could
stand it no longer. I felt that I must go to where
this danger was confronting Allan; and as the
house in Christie Place was the first that arose
in my mind, I went there.
"I saw the cab upon the opposite side of the
street; and the driver of it looked at me so hard


i4o ASHTON-KIRK
"But between the two—after the shot, and be-
fore the cry, you heard a door close," he said.
She gave a little gasp of surprise.
"I did," she said. "I remember it distinctly
now that you mention it. It closed sharply, but
not very loudly."
The investigator leaned back and began drum-
ming upon the arm of his chair with his long
supple fingers.
"Experience never quite takes away that com-
fortable feeling of satisfaction that the proving
of a theory gives one," said he. "I suppose it
is a sort of reward that Nature reserves for
effort."
And he smiled at his beautiful visitor's puzzled
look, and Went on:
"The cab driver says that the cry resembled
that of a parrot or cockatoo. What do you
think?"
"It was not unlike their scream," said Miss
Vale. "But I was too much startled to think of
comparing it to anything at the time!"
"What happened after you heard this cry?"
"I waited for some little time, part way up the
stairs. Then the light which I had seen glancing
over the walls and across the ceiling, seemed to
halt and die down. After this there was a pause,
a stoppage of everything, and fear took posses-
sion of me. Suppose Allan had really intended


INVESTIGATOR
visiting the place—suppose he had preceded me—
suppose something dreadful had just happened—
something in which he had had a parti
"Filled with thoughts like these, I ascended
the remaining stairs. There was a light shining
through the lettered glass of the door at the
front; but the hall was deserted; the far end was
thick with shadows. I tried the door where the
light was, but it was fast; the door nearest the
stairs was open; I entered by that, and passed
into the front room through a communicating
doorway. Then I saw the—the body, turned out
the light, ran stumbling through the rooms and
down the stairs."
"Why did you turn out the light?" asked the
investigator.
"I don't know. Partly, I suppose, to shut the
awful thing upon the floor from my sight—and
partly"
She stopped, but Ashton-Kirk completed the
sentence for her.
"And partly with the confused idea that you
might hide the deed from public gaze and in that
way save Allan Morris from the consequences of
his crime," said he.
At this she sprang up, her hands outstretched
appealingly; the fear now plain in her face.
"No, no!" she cried. "He is not guilty! He
did not do itl"


ASHTON-KIRK
"My dear young lady," said Ashton-Kirk,
soothingly, "control yourself. Don't forget that
before this thing is ended you will probably need
all the self-command you can summon." Then
as she resumed her seat, he added: "I did not
say that he was guilty. I was merely telling you
of the formless thought that you had in mind when
you turned out the light."
She sat staring at him, the horror of it all still
in her eyes. Then she nodded her head slowly,
and said in a husky voice.
"Yes; that is what I thought, and that is why
I called you on the telephone. I thought you
would pity me and show me some way of covering
it all up. But after I had your promise to come,
I was seized with the fear that you might—that
you might betray him. That is, I suppose, the
real reason why I tried to deceive you. In my
terror I myself thought Allan guilty. But, of
course, now that I have had time to calmly think
it over, I know he was not—that he couldn't bel
No one who knows him will believe he did it."
"What reason had you for thinking that he
might be guilty?"
"His manner during the afternoon before the
murder. He seemed so fiercely resolved, so dif-
ferent from his usual self."
"I understand. And what makes you think
now that he is innocent?"


INVESTIGATOR 143
"I believe it because I understand his nature,"
said Miss Vale, earnestly. "He might be finally
aroused—under provocation he might even be
violent. But he could never do a thing like this
—it is too utterly horrible."
"You have judged that it was probably he who
was seen to go into Hume's before the murder?"
"Yes."
"Hume was alive when Berg closed up his
shop; he was dead when you entered his show-
room a half hour or so later. Therefore he
must have met his. death while the cab driver
Sams sat on his box across the street. Now,
while Morris was seen to go in, it is not at all
positive that he was the man who came out. We
are not sure that he was not present when the
crime was committed."
Miss Vale reared her head proudly.
"Is it possible," she said, "that you are trying
to fix this deed upon Allan Morris?"
"I am trying to find the real truth," answered
Ashton-Kirk, gravely.
"The police," said Miss Vale, "according to
the newspapers, thought that the criminal gained
admission by way of the roof. This may or may
not be so; but I think it is pretty evident that he
made his way out in that manner. I was on the
stairs while he was in the hall. He fled, but as
he did not pass me, he must have gone upwards.


144
ASHTON-KIRK
If Allan Morris had done this murder he would
not have thought of this; not knowing the section,
he would have been ignorant as to where the
roof would lead. But if Spatola were the man
who remained, it would have been different. Do
the papers not say that he lives in a garret, or
loft, in the same block? How easy it would have
been for him to pass out upon the roof of 478
after the crime and then over the housetops of
the block until he came to a scuttle which per-
haps led into his very attic?"
"That," said Ashton-Kirk, "is very well con-
ceived. But it has one weakness. You are not
sure that the murderer did ascend to the roof
after  crime. He may have been lurking in
thi :'. nl'tws which you say were lying so thickly
.■• .■)'! «:f the hall. He may have been watch-
',. ,'13 you discovered the body, while you
r■.i ;wn the hall once more and down the stairs.
oe sure, you slammed the door behind you;
and so locked it. But like all spring or latch locks,
it could be readily opened from the inside. No
one else came out while the cab driver waited;
but that was only for another fifteen minutes, ac-
cording to his own statement. The murderer
could easily have waited until he had gone and
then slipped out, also locking the door after
him."
Miss Vale sat staring at the speaker dumbly


INVESTIGATOR 14S:
for a space; then she asked in a dry, expression-
less way:
"And do you really think this is what hap-
pened?"
Ashton-Kirk shook his head.
"No," said he. "I merely mentioned it to
show you that it is difficult to be sure of anything
in a matter like this until," with a smile, "you
are sure. It is one of the things that may have
happened; but it is also open to question. A
criminal whose crime has been discovered does
not ordinarily linger upon the scene. You had
just fled with the terror of the thing fresh upon
you. How did he know but that you might
scream it out to everyone you met."
Again she looked at him mutely. Then she
said:
"What, then, is your theory of the crime?"
"I have a number of possibilities at this mo-
ment," he said. "Of course, there is one to
which I give the preference; but until a thing is
proven beyond question, it is my rule never to
outline my theories."
Before Miss Vale left she had implored him
to do all he could to clear the matter up, for her
sake and for Morris's. "Of course," she said
in conclusion, "I now understand that the entire
matter will get into the papers. It is too late to
prevent that. But it is not too late for you to


ASHTON-KIRK
fix the guilt where it belongs. And I have every
confidence that you will do it. If I had not,"
and her voice quavered pitifully, "I don't know
what I should do."
"I will do what I can. Success sometimes
comes easily—-sometimes one is forced to fight
hard for it. But rest assured that I will do what
I can."
She was going; he held the library door open
for her while the grave-faced Stumph waited in
the hall.
"It will, perhaps, be necessary 'for me to see
Mr. Morris sometime during the course of the
day," said Ashton-Kirk, as an afterthought.
"Would it be convenient for you to let him know
that I can be seen at six?"
The fear that his soothing words had driven
from her eyes, swept back into them; he saw her
tremble and steady herself against the door-
frame.
t< I cannot let him know," she said. "I have
not seen him since—since the time I have men-
tioned. I have waited, telephoned, sent mes-
sages, even gone in person. But I could not find
him. No one seems to know anything of his
whereabouts."


CHAPTER X
Ashton-Kirk Asks Questions
For some time after Miss Vale had gone, Ash-
ton-Kirk stood at one of the windows and looked
down at the sordid, surging, dirty crowd in the
street. The worn horses went dispiritedly up and
down; the throaty-voiced men clamored strangely
through their beards; children played in the black
ooze of the gutters; women bundled in immmense
knitted garments and with their heads wrapped
in shawls, haggled over scatterings of faded, weak
looking vegetables. The vendors grew frantic
and eloquent in their combats with these experi-
enced purchasers; their gestures were high, sharp
and loaded with protest.
Then Pendleton came. He was burdened with
newspapers and wore an excited look.
"I brought these, thinking that perhaps you
had not seen them," he exclaimed, throwing the
dailies among the others upon the floor. "But
I note that your morning's reading has been very
complete. Now tell me Kirk, what the mischief
do you think of all this?"
"I suppose you refer to the published reports
of the Hume case?"


148
ASHTON-KIRK
"Of course! As far as I am concerned, there
is not, just now, any other thing of consequence
on earth." Then he struck the table with his
fist. "And it's all the fault of that cur—Allan
Morris! Every bit of it! There is not a space
writer or amateur detective on a single paper in
the city that hasn't his nose to the ground at this
minute, hunting the trail. They are all at it. I
stopped at the Vale's on my way here, but they
told me she was not at home. From the top
step to the curb, on my way out, I was stopped
four times by stony-faced young men all anxious
to make good with their city editors. 'Was I a
friend of the family? Did Miss Vale seem at
all upset by the matter? Where was Allan Mor-
ris? What brought him so frequently, as Brolat-
sky said, to see Hume?' I believe they'd have
come over the back of my car even after I started,
if I had given but an encouraging look."
"The evening papers will be a trial to Miss
Vale for the next few days."
"Well, don't neglect the morning issues, if you
are going to mention any. In to-morrow's Star
there will be a portrait of Edyth four columns
wide and eight inches high. I'll expect such ex-
pressions as 'beautiful society girl,' "a recent de-
butante,' 'heiress to the vast fortune of the late
structural steel king,' 'charming manner and bril-
liant mind.' And at those odd times when they


INVESTIGATOR 151
Sime instantly put in an appearance. He was
small, sandy-haired and freckled; he wore an
alert expression and carried a marking pencil be-
hind his ear.
"This is our shipping and receiving clerk,"
said Mr. Bernstine. *' He's up to everything
around the place." Then he lowered his voice
and jerked his fat thumb toward the newcomer
secretly, addressing Pendleton: "Clever! Just
full of it."
Sime listened to Ashton-Kirk's question atten-
tively.
"Yes," he said, in answer, "we had some of
that stuff lately. Sold well, too, considering the
time of the year." He pulled open a drawer and
took out a fat, canvas-covered book. "Two
gross rifles; one hundred gross cartridges." He
closed the book, tossed it into the drawer and
then slid the drawer shut. "There were a few
bayonets, too. About half a dozen."
With his round, fat countenance shining with
admiration, Mr. Bernstine once more caught
Pendleton's eye.
"Just full of it," he murmured, sotto voce.
"As full as he can be."
"The bayonets," said Ashton-Kirk, "are what
we are after. They were all sold, I suppose?"
"Yes," replied Sime. "I remember, when the
last one went, saying to one of our men that we


152 ASHTON-KIRK
were lucky. You see, bayonets don't sell very
well except to military companies; and they are
not organizing every day."
"Do you know who bought them?"
Sime took the marking pencil from behind his
ear and proceeded to scratch his head with its
point. Mr. Bernstine watched him anxiously.
But when the shipping clerk pulled open the
drawer once more, the employer's face lighted
up.
"Ah!" said he to Pendleton. "The books!
Now we'll have it."
"They were all taken away by the people who
bought them," announced Sime, after a great flip-
ping of ink spattered pages, "All except one."
"And that one"
"It went by our boy. It was sold to Mr. Cart-
wright the artist, and was sent to his studio up
here in Fifth St. But there was another—the last
one that we had," suddenly, "and now that I get
thinking of it, I remember we had some trouble
about it. The man that bought it was a Dago."
Pendleton darted a swift look at Ashton-Kirk,
but the investigator's expression never changed.
He looked steadily at the clock.
"When he asked for the bayonet," proceeded
Sime, "I knew we had one left, but I could not
just lay my hands on it. He paid for it and I
said we'd send it to him. He started to give me


INVESTIGATOR 153
his address, and then changed his mind and said
he'd come back again."
"And he did?"
"Yes; the same afternoon. I had found the
thing by that time and he took it with him."
"You don't recall the address?"
To his employer's evident mortification, Sime
shook his head.
"Look in the books," suggested Mr. Bernstine
with confidence. "Look in the books."
"It ain't there," answered Sime. "He said
he'd come back, so I didn't put it down."
"Was it Christie Place?"
Sime pointed at Ashton-Kirk with his pencil.
"You've got it," said he. "That was it, sure
enough."
"And you think the man was an Italian?"
"Well, he talked and looked like one. Rather
well educated too, I think."
Ashton-Kirk thanked the clerk, and the now
beaming Mr. Bernstine, and with Pendleton left
the place.
"Well," said Pendleton, as they climbed into
the car, "this about fixes the thing, doesn't it?
The musician, Antonio Spatola, is the guilty man,
beyond a doubt."
The investigator settled back after giving the
chauffeur his next stop.
"Beyond a doubt," said he, "is rather an ex-


154
ASHTON-KIRK
treme expression. The fact that the bayonet was
purchased by an Italian who gave his address as
Christie Place is not enough to convict Spatola.
All sorts of people live in that street, and there
are perhaps other Italians among them."
Pendleton called out to the chauffeur to stop.
"We'll settle that at once," said he. "Spa-
tola's picture is in the papers. We'll ask the
clerk if it is that of the man to whom he sold the
weapon."
But Ashton-Kirk restrained him.
"I thought of the published portraits while
Sime was speaking," said he. "And I also
thought that it was very fortunate that neither
he nor his employer were readers of the news-
papers."
"How do you know that they are not?"
"If they had read to-day's issues they would
have at once connected the Italian who purchased
the bayonet with the one who is said to have used
?t—wouldn't they; especially as both Italians
lived on the same street? Bernstine and Sime said
nothing because they suspect nothing. And, as
I have said, this is fortunate, because, suspecting
nothing, they will continue," with a smile, "to
say nothing. If the police or reporters got this,
they'd swoop down on the trail and perhaps spoil
everything!"
"But Bernstine or his clerk will hear of the


INVESTIGATOR 155
matter sooner or later," complained Pendleton.
"And the police and reporters will then get in
on the thing anyhow."
"But there will be a delay," said his friend.
"And that may be what we need just now. Per-
haps a few hours will mean success. You can
never tell. The best that we could get by ex-
plaining matters to Sime would be a positive iden-
tification of Spatola, or the reverse. And we can
get that from him at any time. So you see, we
lose nothing by waiting."
"I guess that's so," Pendleton acknowledged,
and again the car started forward. At the huge
entrance to a railroad station they drew up once
more.
Within, Ashton-Kirk inquired for the General
Passenger Agent and was directed to the ninth
floor. The agent was a slim little man with huge
whiskers of snowy whiteness, and a most dignified
manner.
"Oh, yes," he said, after glancing at the in-
vestigator's card. "I have heard of you, of
course. Who," with a little bow, "has not? In-
deed, if I remember aright, this road had the
honor to employ you a few years ago in a matter
necessitating some little delicacy of handling. Am
Ijnot right?"
"And I think it was you," said Ashton-Kirk,
smoothly, "who provided me with some very


ASHTON-KIRK
clearly cut facts which were of considerable
service."
The little General Passenger Agent looked
pleased and smoothed his beautiful whiskers
softly.
"I was most happy," said he.
"Just now," said Ashton-Kirk, "I am engaged
in a matter of some consequence, and once more
you can be of assistance to me."
"Sit down," invited the other, readily. "Sit
down, and command me."
Both Pendleton and the investigator sat down.
The latter said to the passenger agent:
"I understand that every railroad has a system
by which it can tell which conductor has punched
a ticket."
"Oh, yes. A very simple one. You see the
hole left by each punch is different. One will cut
a perfectly round hole, another will be square,
still another will be a triangle, and so on, in-
definitely.
From his card case, Ashton-Kirk produced the
small blue particle which he had found upon the
desk of the murdered man.
"Here is a fragment cut from a ticket," he
said. "It is shaped like a keystone. I should
like to know, if you can tell me, what train is
taken out by the conductor who uses the keystone
punch."


INVESTIGATOR 157
The agent touched a signal and picked up the
end of a tube.
"The head ticket counter," said he. "At
once." Then he laid down the tube and continued
to his visitors. "He is the man who can supply
that sort of information instantly."
The ticket counter was a heavy-set young man,
in spectacles and with his hair much rumpled. He
peered curiously at the strangers.
"Does any conductor on our lines use a punch
which cuts out a keystone?" inquired the Gen-
eral Passenger Agent.
"Yes, Purvis," replied the heavy young man.
"Runs the Hammondsville local."
"I am obliged to you both," said Ashton-Kirk.
*' This little hint may be immensely valuable to
me. And now," to the agent, "if I could have a
moment with Conductor Purvis, I would be more
grateful to you than ever."
"His train is out in the shed now," said the
ticket counter, looking at his watch. "Leaves in
eight minutes."
"I'm sorry that I can't have him up here for
you," said the passenger agent. "Just now that
is impossible. But," inquiringly, "couldn't you
speak to him down on the platform?"
"Of course," replied Ashton-Kirk.
He and Pendleton arose; the little man with
the large white whiskers was thanked once more,


i58 ASHTON-KIRK
as was the heavy young man with the rumpled
hair.
"You'll find the Hammondsville train at Gate
E," the latter informed them.
Then the two shot down to the platform level
and made their way toward Gate E.


CHAPTER XI
Pendleton Is Vastly Enlightened
The Hammondsville local was taking on its pas-
sengers. It was a sooty train, made up of three
coaches and a combination baggage and smoking
car. The gateman pointed out its conductor, in-
side, and the two approached him.
He was a spare, elderly man with a wrinkled,
shrewd face, and a short, pointed manner of
speech.
"Oh, the General Passenger Agent sent you?"
said he, examining them. "All right. What's
wanted?"
"Your train stops at a station called Cordova,
does it not?"
"It stops at every station on the run. Cor-
dova's one of them."
"There is an institution at Cordova, I be-
lieve?"
"For deaf and dumb kids—yes."
"Of course some of the people from there ride
in and out with you at times."
"I don't get many of the youngsters. But the
folks that run the place often come to the city."
"You are acquainted with them, of course. I
159


i6o
ASHTON-KIRK
mean in the way that local conductors come to be
acquainted with their regular riders.
Purvis grinned.
"Say," said he. "It's hard to get acquainted
with some of them asylum people. There's only
a couple of them that can talk!"
"I see." Pendleton noted Ashton-Kirk's dark
eyes fixed steadfastly upon the man's face as
though he desired to read the remainder from his
expression. "There is one of them," continued
the investigator, "whom perhaps you have no-
ticed. He's rather a small man, and wears thick
glasses. He also dresses very carefully, and he
wears a silk hat."
"Oh, yes," said the conductor, "I know him.
He goes in and out quite often. Very polite too.
Always says good day with his fingers; if the train
is crowded, he's a great little fellow for getting
up and giving his seat to the ladies."
"Have you ever heard his name?"
"Yes. It's Locke. He's some kind of a
teacher."
Ashton-Kirk thanked the man, and with Pendle-
ton walked through the gate. As they were de-
scending the stairs to the street, Pendleton said:
"And now he wears a silk hat, does he? But
you have not made sure of the man. You forgot
to inquire if Mr. Locke favored the German
dramatists."


INVESTIGATOR 161
For a moment Ashtonl-Kirk looked puzzled,
then he burst into a laugh.
"Ah," said he, "you remember that."
"Of course I remember it. How can I forget
it? You go prancing about so like a conjurer
that there's not a moment that I don't expect
something. If you finish by dragging the mur-
derer from your sleeve, I'll not be at all aston-
ished. Your methods lead me to expect some such
a finale."
"To explain each step as I take it," said the
investigator, "would be much more difficult than
the work itself. However, the time has now ar-
rived for me to enlighten you somewhat upon this
point, at least. I am quite convinced that this
man Locke played a leading part in the murder
of Hume. He is in a manner definitely placed,
and I can speak of him without fracturing any of
my prejudices."
They got into the car, and Ashton-Kirk con-
tinued to the chauffeur:
"Christie Place." Then to Pendleton, he
added as the machine started. "I want to make
some inquiries at the house where Spatola lived;
and in order to make the matter clearer, we'll
just drop in at 478."
As they proceeded along at a bounding pace,
the investigator related to Pendleton what had
passed between Edyth Vale and himself a few


ASHTON-KIRK
hours before. Pendleton drew a great breath of
relief.
"Of course I knew that her part in the matter
was something like that," he said, "but I'm glad
to hear it, just the same." He looked at his
friend for a moment and then continued: "But
how did you know that Edyth heard a door close
immediately after the pistol shot?"
They had just drawn up in front of Hume's,
and as Ashton-Kirk got out, he said:
"If you had only used your eyes as we were
going over the place," said he, "you'd have no
occasion to ask that question."
There was a different policeman at the door;
but fortunately he knew the investigator and they
were allowed to enter at once. When about half
way up the stairs, Ashton-Kirk said:
"This, I think, is about the place where Miss
Vale stopped when she saw the light-rays moving
across the ceiling and wall of the hall. You get
the first glimpse of those from this point. Re-
main here a moment and I'll try and reproduce
what she heard—with the exception of the cry."
Pendleton obediently paused upon the stairs;
Ashton-Kirk went on up and disappeared. In a
few moments there came a sharp, ringing report,
and Pendleton, dashing up the stairs, saw his
friend standing holding open the showroom door
i—the one with Hume's name painted upon it.
"It's the bell," said Ashton-Kirk, pointing to


INVESTIGATOR 163
the gong at the top of the door frame. "When I
examined it this morning I saw that it was screwed
up too tight, and knew that it would make a
sound much like a pistol shot to ears not ac-
customed to it."
Pendleton stared in amazement at the simpli-
city of the thing.
"I see," said he. "While Edyth stood listen-
ing on the stairs someone opened this doorl"
"Yes; someone unacquainted with the place.
Otherwise he would have known of the bell."
"But how did you know that Edyth heard a
door close?"
"Whoever rang the bell closed the door after
him. It has a spring lock like the street door;
and was locked when Miss Vale tried it a few
moments later."
"You say that the ringing of the bell shows
the person who rang the bell to have been un-
acquainted with the place. I think you must be
wrong here. Spatola is acquainted with the place;
he was here at the time. This is proven by the
scream of the frightened cockatoo which followed
the ringing of the bell."
"It was not a cockatoo that made the sound,"
said Ashton-Kirk. "Give me a moment and I
think I can convince you of that."
The gas in the hall was lighted; the investi-
gator stopped at the foot of the stairs leading to
the fourth floor.


ASHTON-KIRK
hours before. Pendleton drew a great breath of
relief.
"Of course I knew that her part in the matter
was something like that," he said, "but I'm glad
to hear it, just the same." He looked at his
friend for a moment and then continued: "But
how did you know that Edyth heard a door close
immediately after the pistol shot?"
They had just drawn up in front of Hume's,
and as Ashton-Kirk got out, he said:
"If you had only used your eyes as we were
going over the place," said he, "you'd have no
occasion to ask that question."
There was a different policeman at the door;
but fortunately he knew the investigator and they
were allowed to enter at once. When about half
way up the stairs, Ashton-Kirk said:
"This, I think, is about the place where Miss
Vale stopped when she saw the light-rays moving
across the ceiling and wall of the hall. You get
the first glimpse of those from this point. Re-
main here a moment and I'll try and reproduce
what she heard—with the exception of the cry."
Pendleton obediently paused upon the stairs;
Ashton-Kirk went on up and disappeared. In a
few moments there came a sharp, ringing report,
and Pendleton, dashing up the stairs, saw his
friend standing holding open the showroom door
i—the one with Hume's name painted upon it.
"It's the bell," said Ashton-Kirk, pointing to


INVESTIGATOR 163
the gong at the top of the door frame. "When I
examined it this morning I saw that it was screwed
up too tight, and knew that it would make a
sound much like a pistol shot to ears not ac-
customed to it."
Pendleton stared in amazement at the simpli-
city of the thing.
"I see," said he. "While Edyth stood listen-
ing on the stairs someone opened this doorl"
"Yes; someone unacquainted with the place.
Otherwise he would have known of the bell."
"But how did you know that Edyth heard a
door close?"
"Whoever rang the bell closed the door after
him. It has a spring lock like the street door;
and was locked when Miss Vale tried it a few
moments later."
"You say that the ringing of the bell shows
the person who rang the bell to have been un-
acquainted with the place. I think you must be
wrong here. Spatola is acquainted with the place;
he was here at the time. This is proven by the
scream of the frightened cockatoo which followed
the ringing of the bell."
"It was not a cockatoo that made the sound,"
said Ashton-Kirk. "Give me a moment and I
think I can convince you of that."
The gas in the hall was lighted; the investi-
gator stopped at the foot of the stairs leading to
the fourth floor.


INVESTIGATOR
165
(
little," said Ashton-Kirk. "It is the tracings of
melted tallow that possess the secret. Look closely
at them. At first glance they may seem the ran-
dom drippings of a carelessly held light. But a
little study will show you a clearly defined system
contained in them."
"Well, you might say there were three lines
of it," said Pendleton, after a moment's in-
spection.
"Right," said Ashton-Kirk. "Three lines
there are, and each follows a row of tack heads.
These latter were, apparently, once driven in to
hold down a step-protector of some sort which
has since become worn out and been removed."
The speaker took a pad of paper and a pencil
from his pocket. Across the pad he drew three
lines one under the other. Then with another
glance at the candle droppings upon the step, he
made a copy of them that looked like this:


Pendleton bent over the result under the flare


166 ASHTON-KIRK
of the gas light; and as he looked his eyes
widened.
"Why," cried he, "they look like a stenog-
rapher's word-signs."
"Good!" said Ashton-Kirk. "And that, my
dear fellow, is exactly what they are. There,
scrawled erratically in dripping tallow, is a three
word sentence in Benn Pitman's phonetic char-
acters. It is roughly done, and may have occu-
pied some minutes; but it is well done, and in
excellent German. I'll write it out for you."
Then he wrote on the pad in big, plain Roman
letters:
HINTER
wayne's
bildnisse
"There it is," said the investigator, "done into
the German language, line for line. Brush up
your knowledge now; let me see you turn it into
English."
Pendleton, whose German was rusty from long
disuse, pondered over the three words. Sud-
denly a light shot across his face; then his eyes
were in a blaze.
"Behind Wayne's Portrait!"
He fairly shouted the words. Astonishment
filled him; he was trembling with excitement.


INVESTIGATOR 167
"By Heaven," he gasped, "you have it, Kirk.
Now I understand the smashing of the portraits
of General Wayne. There was something of
value hidden behind one of them—between the
picture and the back! But what?"
"It was nothing of any great bulk; the hiding
place indicated points that out, surely," said Ash-
ton-Kirk, comDosedly. "A document of some
sort, perhaps."
Pendleton stood for a moment, lost in the won-
der of the revelation; then his mind began to
work once more.
"But I can't understand the writing of the thing
upon the step," said he.
"It was the fact that it was written that proved
to me that there were at least two men concerned.
One knew the hiding place of the coveted object;
and this is how he conveyed the information to
his companion," pointing to the step.
"But," protested Pendleton, "why did he not
put it into words? Surely it would have been
much easier?"
"Not for this particular person. As it happens,
he was a mute."
Again Pendleton's eyes opened widely; theni
recollection came to him and he said:
"It was Locke—the man concerning whom
you were making inquiries of the railroad con-
ductor!" ,


ix68
ASHTON-KIRK
Ashton-Kirk nodded, and replied.
"And it was he who shrieked when the door
of the showroom opened. The out-cry of a deaf-
mute, if you have ever heard one, has the same
squawking, senseless sound as that of a psittace-
ous bird like the parrot or cockatoo."
"But," said Pendleton, "the fact that the man
who scrawled these signs upon the step was a
deaf-mute, scarcely justifies the eccentricity of the
thing. Why did he not use a pencil, as you have
done?"
"I can't say exactly, of course. But did it
never happen that you were without a pencil at
a time when you neded one rather urgently?"
"This thing has sort of knocked me off my bal-
ance, I suppose," said Pendleton, rather bewil-
dered. "Don't expect too much of me, Kirk."
He stuffed his hands in his pockets dejectedly and
continued: "You now tell me that this man was
a mute. Yesterday you said he was small, that he
was near-sighted, that he was well dressed and
knew something of the modern German drama-
tists. You also told the conductor that he wore
thick glasses and a silk hat. Now, I suppose I'm
all kinds of an idiot for not understanding how
you know these things about a man you never
saw. But I confess it candidly; I don't under-
stand."
"It all belongs to my method of work," said


INVESTIGATOR 169
Ashton-Kirk. "It's simple enough when you go
about it the right way. I have already given you
my reasons for thinking the man who did this,"
pointing to the step, "to be a mute. I judged
that he was of small stature because he chose
the bottom step upon which to trace his word
signs. Even an ordinary sized man would have
selected one higher up."
"All right," said Pendleton. "That looks
good to me, so far."
"The deductions that he was well dressed and
also near-sighted were from the one source. His
hat fell off while he was tracing the signs; that
showed me that he was forced to stoop very close
to his work in order to see what he was about.
You see that, don't you?"
"How did you know his hat fell off?" asked
Pendleton, incredulously.
"Mrs. Dwyer is evidently only paid to clean
the hall and lower stairway," replied Ashton-
Kirk, composedly. "And that she sticks closely
to that arrangement is shown by the condition of
this upper flight. The dust upon the step is
rather thick. If you will notice," and he indi-
cated a place on the second step, "here is a spot
where a round, flat object rested. That this ob-
ject was a silk hat is positive. You can see the
sharp impress of the nap in the dust; here is the
curl in the exact center of the crown as seen in
1


I70 ASHTON-KIRK
silk hats only. And men who wear silk hats are
usually well-dressed men."
"But how can you be at all sure that the hat
fell off? Isn't it possible that he took it off and
laid it there?"
"Possible—yes—but scarcely probable. A
well-dressed man is so from instinct. And his in-
stinctive neatness would hardly permit him to put
his well-kept hat down in the dust."
"Go on," said Pendleton.
"The stairs have been used since the hat fell
there; but the dust has not been disturbed. There
is a hand-rail on the other side of the flight, and
consequently, all went up and down on that side."
"I can understand the thick glasses," said Pen-
dleton, "his being near-sighted suggested those.
But what made you think he cared for the modern
German dramatists?"
"That was a hazard, merely," and the investi-
gator laughed.
"He knew German and was apparently a man
of intelligence. No man who combines these two
things can fail of admiration of Hauptman, Suder-
mann and their brothers of the pen. And then
a mute who knew shorthand well enough tp have
such ready recourse to it, struck me as being un-
usual. They all know the digital sign language;
but German and phonography classed him as one
above the ordinary. This knowledge brought


172
ASHTON-KIRK
tered Hume's apartments by the door which Mrs.
Dwyer found open. This, by an oversight, may
have been left unlocked, or the criminals may
have had a key. However, that does not affect
thje case one way or another.
"It is my opinion that Hume was seated at
his desk at this time and heard the intruder enter
the storage room1; then pushing back his chair
as we saw it, he arose. The criminal, however,
sprang upon and struck him so expertly that he
collapsed without a sound. Then the bayonet
came into play.
"A search followed for the thing desired—a
search, short, sharp and savage. The murderer
either found what he sought, or the footsteps of
Miss Vale upon the stairs frightened him. At
any rate he pulled open the showroom door—
the one with the gong; Locke, still in the hall,
screamed and both fled up these stairs to the roof
and away."
Pendleton had waited patiently until his friend
finished. Then he said, with a twinkle in his eye:
"You say the murderer opened the show room
door, the gong rang and then Locke screamed.
Now, old chap, that's not possible. If Locke is
deaf, he couldn't hear the gong; and so there
would be no occasion for him to cry out."
"I think if you'll go back over what I've really
said," spoke Ashton-Kirk, "you will find that I


INVESTIGATOR 173
have made no mention of Locke crying out be-
cause of the gong. I said the murderer opened
the door that has the gong. Then Locke
screamed, not because he heard anything, but be-
cause of the sight he saw."
"Ah!"
"He caught a glimpse of Hume upon the floor
—as we saw him."
"You think, then, that Locke's intentions were
not murder?"
"At the present time I am led to think so. The
confederate either was forced to kill to save him-
self, or he had nursed a private scheme of re-
venge. And the ferocity of the blow with the
bayonet inclines me to prefer the latter as a the-
ory."
"That brings us back to both Morris and Spa-
tola," said Pendleton, gravely. "By all ac-
counts both bore Hume a bitter grudge. But
the fact that both criminals escaped by the roof
shows familiarity with the neighborhood, as Miss
Vale pointed out to you. This seems to point to
Spatola."
"So does the purchase of the bayonet, and in
the same indefinite fashion," said Ashton-Kirk.
"But come, we motored to Christie Place more to
inquire about this same Italian than anything else.
So let's set about it."
They thanked the policeman in charge and left


174
ASHTON-KIRK
the building. As they proceeded down the street
toward the house in which the newspapers had
informed them Spatola lived, the investigator
paused suddenly.
"I think," said he, "it would be best for us
to first see Spatola himself, and ask a few ques-
tions. This might give us the proper point of
view for the remainder."
And so they once more got into the car; and
away they sped toward the place where the vio-
linist was confined.


CHAPTER XII
Antonio Spatola Appears
Ashton-Kirk and Pendleton were admitted to
the cell room at the City Hall without question;
but a distinct surprise awaited them there.
Through a private door leading from the detec-
tives' quarters they saw the bulky form of Osborne
emerge; and at his heels were Bernstine and his
sandy-haired clerk.
When Osborne caught sight of Ashton-Kirk he
expanded into a wide smile of satisfaction.
"Hello!" greeted he. "Glad to see you.
You're just in time to see me turn a new trick.
Here's the people that Spatola bought the bayonet
from. How does that strike you?"
But Bernstine leaned over and said something
in a low tone; and the smile instantly departed.
"Oh," said Osborne, ruefully, "this is the party
who called to see you, is it?" Then turning to
Ashton-Kirk he asked: "How did you get onto
this bayonet business?"
"Just through thinking it over a little, that's
all," answered the investigator.
Mr. Bernstine now approached the speaker, a
hurt look upon his face.
175


176 ASHTON-KIRK
"Mr. Ashton-Kirk," said he, "why did you
not tell us about this piece of business? Why
did you not enlighten us? How could you go
away and leave us in the dark? We are very
much occupied, and have little time to look at the
newspapers. It was only by accident that Sime
happened to see one." Lowering his voice, he
added: "There's a smart fellow for you; he saw
the whole thing in an instant. And so we came
right here to do what we can to help justice." He
squared his shoulders importantly.
"He's seen the bayonet and is prepared to
swear to it," stated Osborne, elated.
"What of the picture of Spatola in the paper?"
asked the investigator. "Does he recognize
that?"
Osborne's face fell once more.
"These half-tones done through coarse screens
are never any good," said he. "They'd make
Gladstone look like Pontius Pilate. He's going
to have a look at the man himself, and that'll
settle it."
With that a turnkey was dispatched; and in a
few moments he returned, accompanied by a half
dozen prisoners; one was a slim, dark young man
with a nervous, expressive look, and a great tangle
of curling black hair. The face was haggard and
drawn; the eyes were frightened; the whole man-
ner of the man had a piteous appeal.


INVESTIGATOR
177
Osborne turned to Sime.
"Look them over carefully," directed he.
"Take your time."
"I don't need to," answered the freckled ship-
ping clerk. He pointed to the dark young man.
"That's the man of the picture; but I never seen
him before, anywhere."
Osborne put his fingers under his collar and
pulled as though to breathe more freely; then he
motioned another attendant to take the remaining
prisoners away.
"I see," said he. "He was too foxy to buy
the thing himself. He sent someone else." Then
he fixed his eye on the prisoner and continued:
"We've got the bayonet on you; so you might
as well tell us all about it."
"I don't understand," said Spatola, anxiously.
"The easier you make it for us, the easier it
will be for you," Osborne told him. "If you
make us sweat, fitting this thing to you, we'll give
you the limit. Don't forget that."
"I have done nothing," said Spatola, earnestly.
"I have done nothing. And yet you keep me
here. Is there not a law?"
"There is," said Osborne, grimly. "That's
what I'm trying to tell you about. Now, who
bought the bayonet?"
"The bayonet?" Spatola stared.
"The bayonet that Hume was killed with."


INVESTIGATOR
179
"I thank you," he said. "It is not many who
will remember in me a man who once did worthy
things. I am young," with despair, "yet how I
have sunken."
"It is something of a drop," admitted Ashton-
Kirk. "From a position of first violin with Karl-
son to that of a street musician. How did it
happen?"
Sadly the young Italian tapped his forehead
with one long finger.
"The fault," he declared, "is here. I have
not the—what do you call it—sense? What hap-
pened with Karlson happened a dozen times be-
fore—in Italy, in France, in Spain. I have not
the good sense!"
But justification came into his eyes, and his
hands began to gesticulate eloquently.
"Karlson is a Swede," with contempt. "The
Swedes know the science of music; but they are
hard; they are seldom artists; they cannot express.
And when one of this nation—«a man with the ice
of his country in his soul-—tried to instruct me
how to play the warm music of my own Italy, I
called him a fool!"
"I see," said the investigator.
"I am to blame," said Spatola, contritely.
"But I could not help it. He was a fool, and
fools seldom like to hear the truth."
"The Germans, now," said Ashton-Kirk, insin-


i8o ASHTON-KIRK
uatingly, "are somewhat different from the
Swedes. Were you ever employed under a Ger-
man conductor?"
"Twice," replied the violinist, with a shrug.
"Nobody can deny the art of the Germans. But
they have their faults. They say they know the
violin. And they do; but the Italian has taught
them. The violin belongs to Italy. It was the
glory of Cremona, was it not? The tender hands
of the Amatis, of Josef Guarnerius, of old An-
tonio Stradivari, placed a soul within the wooden
box; and that soul is the soul of Italy!"
"Haupt, a German, wrote a treatise on the vio-
lin," said Ashton-Kirk. "If you would read
that ."
"I have read it," cried Spatola. "I have read
it! It is like that," and he snapped his fingers
impatiently.
"But you've probably read a translation in the
English or Italian," insisted the investigator,
smoothly. "And all translations lose something
of their vitality, you know."
"I have read it in the German," declared the
Italian; "in his own language, just as he wrote
it. It is nothing?"
Pendleton looked at Ashton-Kirk admiringly;
the manner in which his friend had established
the fact that Spatola knew the German language
seemed to him very clever. But Ashton-Kirk made


INVESTIGATOR 181
no sign other than that of interest in the subject
upon which they talked.
"A race that has given the world such musi-
cians as Wagner, Beethoven and Mozart," said
he, "must possess in a tremendous degree the mu-
sical sense. The German knowledge of tone and
its combinations is extraordinary; and their music
in turn is as complex as their psychology and as
simple as the improvisation of a child."
Spatola seemed surprised at this apparent
warmth; he looked at Ashton-Kirk questioningly.
"And, with all their scholarship, the Germans
are so practical," went on the latter. "Only the
other day I came upon a booklet published in
Leipzig that dealt with the difficulty a composer
sometimes encounters in getting the notes on paper
when a melody sweeps through his brain. The
writer claimed that the world had lost thousands
of inspirations because of this, and to prevent fur-
ther loss, he proffered an invention—a system of
■—so to speak—musical shorthand."
A sullen look of suspicion came into Spatola's
face; he regarded the speaker from under lowered
brows.
"Perhaps you don't quite understand the value
of such an invention," proceeded Ashton-Kirk.
"But if you had a knowledge of stenography, and
the short cuts it"
But the Italian interrupted him brusquely.


182 ASHTON-KIRK
"I know nothing of such things," said he, " and
what is more I don't want to know anything of
them." Then in a sharp, angry tone, he added:
"What do you want of me? I am not ac-
quainted with you. Why am I annoyed like this?
Is it always to be so—first one and then another?"
At this sudden display of resentment, the turn-
key approached.
"I will go back to my cell," Spatola told him,
"and please do not bring me out again. My
nerves are bad. I have been worried much of
late and I can't stand it."
The turnkey looked at Ashton-KIrk, who
nodded his head. And, as Spatola was led ges-
ticulating away, Pendleton said in a low tone of
conviction:
"I tell you, Kirk, there's your man. Besides
the other things against him, he knows German."
"But what of the phonographic signs?"
"He knows them also. His manner proved it.
As soon as you mentioned shorthand he became
suspicious and showed uneasiness and anger. I
tell you again," with an air, of finality, "he's your
man."


CHAPTER XIII
A New Light On Allan Morris
i
From the City Hall the car headed for Christie
Place once more; it halted some half dozen doors
from Hume's and the occupants got out.
The first floor was used by a dealer in second-
hand machinery, but at one side was a long, dingy
entry with a rickety, twisting flight of stairs at
the end. Ashton-Kirk rang the bell here, and
while they waited a man who had been seated in
the open door of the machine shop got up and
approached them.
He wore blue overalls and a jumper liberally
discolored by plumbago and other lubricants; a
short wooden pipe was held between his teeth,
and a cloth cap sat upon the back of his head.
"Looking up the Dago?" asked he with a grin.
He jerked a dirty thumb toward the stairs.
Ashton-Kirk nodded; the man took the wooden
pipe from his mouth, blew out a jet of strong-
smelling smoke and said:
"I knowed he'd put a knife or something into
somebody, some day. These people with bad
tempers ought to be chained up short."
183


ii 84 ASHTON-KIRK
"Do you know him well?" inquired the investi-
gator.
"Been acquainted with him ever since he's been
living here—and that's going on three years."
"Did he have many visitors, do you know?"
The man in the cloth cap, pulled at his pipe re-
flectively.
"I can't just say," he replied. "But I've been
thinking "he paused here and examined both
young men questioningly. Then he asked:
"You're detectives, ain't you?"
"Something of that sort," replied Ashton-Kirk.
The man grinned at this.
"Oh, all right," said he. "You don't have to
come out flat with it if you don't want to. I
ain't one of the kind that you've got to hit with
a mallet to make them catch on to a thing."
Here the wooden pipe seemed to clog; he took
a straw from behind his ear and began clearing
the stem carefully. At the same time he added:
"As I was saying, I've been thinking."
"That," said Ashton-Kirk, giving another tug
at the unanswered bell, "is very commendable."
"And queer enough, it's been about visitors—
here," and the man pointed with the straw to-
ward the doorway. "Funny kind of people too,
for a house like this."
"Take a cigar," said Ashton-Kirk. "That
pipe seems out of commission." Then, as the


INVESTIGATOR 185
man put the pipe away in the pocket of his jumper
and lighted the proffered cigar, he added: "What
do you mean by 'funny kind of people?'"
The cigar well lighted, the man in the overalls
drew at it with gentle relish.
"There's a good many kinds of funny people,"
said he. "Some of them you laugh at, and others
you don't. These that I mean are the kind you
don't. Now, Mrs. Marx, the woman that keeps
this place, is all right in her way, but it ain't no
swell place at that. Her lodgers are mostly fel-
lows that canvass for different kinds of things;
they wear shiny coats and their shoes are mostly
run down at the heels. So when I see swell busi-
ness looking guys coming here I got to wonder-
ing who they were. That's only natural, ain't
it?"
Ashton-Kirk nodded, but before he could reply
in words there came a clatter upon the rickety
stairs at the far end of the entry. A thin, slip-
shod woman with untidy hair and a sharp face
paused on the lower step and looked out at them.
"What do you want?" she demanded, shrilly.
Ashton-Kirk, followed by Pendleton, stepped in-
side and advanced down the entry.
"Are you Mrs. Marx?" he inquired.
"Yes," snapped the woman. "What do you
want?"
"A little information."


INVESTIGATOR 187
"But of course," she said, "if the law asks
me anything, I must do the best I can. I've kept
a rooming house for a good many years now, gen-
tlemen, and this is the first time I have had any
notoriety. It is, I assure you."
As Ashton-Kirk had seen at a second glance,
Mrs. Marx was a lady fully competent to con-
front any situation that might arise; so he wasted
no time in soothing her injured feelings.
"We desire any information that you can give
us regarding your lodger, Antonio Spatola," said
he. "Tell us all you know about him."
"He wasn't a bad-hearted young man," said
the landlady, "but for all that I wish I'd never
seen him. If I hadn't then I'd never had this
disgrace come on me."
Here she made another effort with the corner
of her apron; but it was even more unsuccessful
than the first. She gave it up and went on acidly.
"Mr. Spatola came here almost three years ago.
He was engaged in one of the vaudeville theaters
near here—in the orchestra—and he rented my
second story front at six dollars a week. Ex-
cept for the fact that he would play awfully shiv-
ery music at all hours of the night, I was glad to
have him. He was quiet and polite; he paid regu-
larly and," smoothing back the untidy hair, "he
gave a kind of tone to the house.
"But then he lost his position. Had a fight,


188 ASHTON-KIRK
I understand, with somebody. For a long time
he had no work; he moved from the second story
front at six dollars a week into the attic at two.
When he could get no place, he went on the street
and played; afterwards he got the trained birds.
I didn't like this much. It didn't do the house no
good to have a street fiddler living in it; and then
the birds were a regular nuisance with their noise.
But he paid regular, and after a while he took to
keeping the birds in a box in the loft, so I put up
with it."
"We'll look at his room, if you please," said
the investigator.
Complainingly, the woman led the way up the
infirm staircase. At the fourth floor she pushed
open a door and showed them into a long loft-
like room with high ceiling and mansard windows.
There came a squawking and fluttering from some-
where above as they entered.
"Them's the cockatoos," said the landlady.
"They miss Mr. Spatola very much. When I
go to feed them with the stale bread and seed he
has here for them, would you believe it, they'll
hardly eat a thing."
The room was without a floor covering. Upon
some rough shelves, nailed to the wall, were heaps
of music. A violin case also lay there. There
were a few chairs, a cot-bed, and a neat pile of
books upon a table. Ashton-Kirk ran over these


ASHTON-KIRK
after a little, and told them they'd better go back
to the grocery or butcher's shop where they be-
longed."
"Are you quite sure that no one else ever called
upon him?"
The woman nodded positively.
"I'm certain sure of it," she said. "I remem-
ber saying more than once to my gentlemen on the
different floors, that Mr. Spatola must be awfully
lonely sometimes. Mr. Crawford would often
come up here and smoke with him and play a
game or two of Pedro. Mr. Hertz tried it a
couple of times; but him and Mr. Spatola couldn't
hit it very well."
"How many lodgers have you?"
"I have rooms for nine. Just now there are
seven. But only four are steadies—Mr. Hertz,
Mr. Crawford, Mr. Sagon and Mr. Spatola.
Mr. Hertz is an inspector of the people who ,
canvass for the city directory; he took the parlor
after Mr. Spatola gave it up. He drinks a little,
but he's a perfect gentleman for all that. Mr.
Crawford is a traveling man, and is seldom home;
but he pays in advance, so I don't never worry
about him. Mr. Sagon is what they call an ex-
pert. He can't speak much English yet, but some-
times even the government," in an awed tone,
"sends lor him to come to the customs house to
tell them how much diamonds are worth, that


INVESTIGATOR 191
people bring in. He works for Baum Brothers
and Wright. The others," bulking them as being
of no consequence, "are all gentlemen who are
employed on the directory under Mr. Hertz."
"Have you any Italian lodgers other than Mr.
Spatola?"
The woman shook her head.
"No," she said, "and I don't want none, if
this is the way they carry on."
"Are there any other rooming houses in the
street?"
"No, sir. It's only a block long, and I know
every house in it. I'm the only one as takes
lodgers."
"Are there any Italians in business in the block,
or employed in any of the business places?"
Mrs. Marx again shook her head positively.
"Not any."
"You speak of a Mr. Sagon. Of what nation-
ality is he?"
"Oh, he's French, but he's lived a long time in
Antwerp. That's where he learned the diamond
business. And he must have lived in other places
in Europe; Mr. Spatola says he has spoken of
them often."
Just then there came from below the sound of
a heavy voice, singing. The words were French
and the intonation here and there was strange to
Ashton-Kirk.


192 ASHTON-KIRK
"Who is that?" he asked.
"It's Mr. Sagon," replied the woman. "He's
the greatest one for singing them little French
songs."
"Ah, I have it," said Ashton-Kirk, after a
moment. "He's a Basque, of course. I couldn't
place that accent at first."
A narrow, ladder-like flight of stairs was upon
one side. Ashton-Kirk mounted these and found
himself in a smaller loft; a number of well-kept
cockatoos, in cages, set up a harsh screaming at
sight of him. Opening a low door he stepped out
upon a tin roof. Mrs. Marx and Pendleton had
followed him, and the former said:
"The police was up here looking. They said
Mr. Spatola came through the trap-door at
Hume's place that night and walked along the
roofs and so down to his own room."
"That would be very easily done," answered
Ashton-Kirk, as his eye took in the level stretch
of roofs.
After a little more questioning to make sure
that the landlady had missed nothing, they thanked
her and left the house. At his door they saw
the man in the cloth cap and overalls. A second
and very unwieldy man, with a flushed, unhealthy
looking face, had just stopped to speak to him.
He supported himself with one hand on the wall.
"Hello!" called the machinist to Ashton-Kirk;


INVESTIGATOR 193
and as the two approached him, he said to the
unwieldy man: "I stopped you to tell you these
gents had gone in. They're detectives."
"Oh," said the man, with interest in his waver-
ing eye. "That so." He regarded the two
young men uncertainly for a moment; and then
asked: "Did Mrs. Marx tell you anything?"
"She didn't seem to know much," answered the
investigator.
The unwieldy man swayed to and fro, an ex-
pression of cunning gathering in his face. The
machinist winked and whispered to Pendleton:
"I don't know his name, but he's one of the
lodgers."
"Marx," declared the unwieldy man, "is a fine
lady. But," with an elaborate wink, "she knows
more'n she tells sometimes." The wavering eye
tried to fix the investigator, but failed signally.
"It don't do," he added wisely, "to tell every-
thing you know."
Ashton-Kirk agreed to this.
"Marx could tell you something, maybe," said
the man. "And then maybe she couldn't. But,
I know / could give you a few hints if I had the
mind—and maybe they'd be valuable hints, too."
Here he drew himself up with much dignity and
attempted to throw out his chest. "I'm a gentle-
man," he declared. "My name's Hertz. And
being a gentleman, I always try and conduct my-


194
ASHTON-KIRK
self like one. But that's more'n some other peo-
ple in Marx's household does."
"Yes?"
"Yes, sir. When a gentleman tries to be
friendly, I meets him half-way. But that fellow,"
and he shook a remonstrating finger at the door
of the lodging-house, "thinks himself better'n
other people. And mind you," with a leer,
"maybe he's not as good."
"Who do you mean—the Dago?" asked the
machinist.
"No; I mean Crawford. A salesman, eh?"
The speaker made a gesture as though pushing
something from him with contempt. "Fudge!
Travels, does he? Rot! He can't fool me.
And then," with energy, "what did he used to do
so much in Spatola's garret, eh? What did they
talk about so much on the quiet? I ain't saying
nothing about nobody, mind you. I'm a gentle-
man. My name's Hertz. I don't want to get
nobody into trouble. But if Crawford was such
a swell as not to want to speak to a gentleman
in public, why did he hold so many pow-wows
in private with Spatola? That's what I want to
know."
Seeing that the man's befogged intellect would
be likely to carry him on in this strain for an
indefinite time, Ashton-Kirk and Pendleton were
about to move on. But they had not gone more


INVESTIGATOR 195
than a few yards when the investigator paused as
though struck with an idea. He stepped back
once more and drew a photograph from his
pocket.
"Do you know who this is?" he asked, abruptly,
holding it up.
The unwieldy man swayed gently and waver-
ingly regarded the portrait.
"Sure!" said He surprisedly, "it's Crawford."
Ashton-Kirk rejoined his friend; and as they
made their way to the waiting automobile, the
latter said;
"That is a step ahead of me, Kirk, I think.
Where did you get a portrait of this man Craw-
ford?"
By way of an answer the investigator held up
the photograph once more. Pendleton gave a
gasp of amazement.
"Allan Morris," said he. "Allan Morris, by
George!"


CHAPTER XIV
Miss Vale Unexpectedly Appears
Edouard, Ashton-Kirk's cook, was astonished
and somewhat grieved that day to receive orders
that dinner was to be served an hour earlier than
usual. And Stumph, grave and immobile, was
betrayed into an expression of astonishment when
his master and guest sat down to the same din-
ner in their work-a-day attire.
And at best Edouard's delicate art that day
received but scant attention. Stumph could hardly
conceive of a more important thing than the
proper and gentlemanly eating of one's dinner.
Nevertheless other things engaged the attention
of the two young men; they talked earnestly and
in incomprehensible terms; mysterious allusions
were sprinkled thickly through it all.
"I do not think," Stumph told the mortified
Edouard in the kitchen, "that Mr. Pendleton has
tasted the flavor of a single thing he has eaten.
He listens to Mr. Ashton-Kirk talk; he is sur-
prised at everything that he is told; there is a
trembling in his hands, he is so eager. No, I
don't know what it's about. But then, I never
196


ASHTON-KIRK
so far as to give him into custody, if he had the
tangible proofs that the police require.
"But he lacks enthusiasm in the matter of the
confederate. To my mind, it's Spatola or Mor-
ris, or both. Both bore Hume no good will.
Morris has been spending at least part of his time
with Spatola under an assumed name; they are
known to have been very much engaged in some
secret matter. Both visited Hume's on the night
of the murder. An Italian purchased the weapon
with which the deed was done. A German sen-
tence was written in shorthand by Locke for his
confederate. Spatola admits he knows German;
he grows suspicious when shorthand is mentioned.
And to wind it up, Morris has not been seen at
his apartments, his office, or by his friends, since
the murder was committed."
At a little unpainted railroad station, the in-
vestigator broke in on Pendleton's thoughts by
calling on the chauffeur to stop. There were the
usual signboards on each side of the structure,
announcing that the place was Cordova; and
there was the usual knot of loungers that are al-
ways to be found about such places watching with
interest the incoming trains.
Ashton-Kirk called to one of these. He was
a lanky fellow in a wide-brimmed hat and with
a sheep-like look of complacency.


INVESTIGATOR
20I
"He does not care to have people wait for
him," complained the man. "He gets very an-
gry if he is worried by such things while dining."
"You need not announce us until he is
through," said Ashton-Kirk, composedly.
The man hesitated; but finally resolved upon a
course and led them up a flight of stone steps and
into a wide hall. The night was raw and a brisk
fire of pine knots burning in an old-fashioned hall
fireplace, made the place very comfortable.
"If you will be seated, gentlemen," requested
their guide, " I will tell Dr. Mercer of your pres-
ence as soon as he has finished."
They seated themselves obligingly in a couple
of low, heavy chairs near the fire; and then the
man left them. The hall was high and rather
bare: the hardwood floor shone brilliantly under
the lights; save for the faint murmur of voices
from a near-by room, everything was still.
"I should imagine that a place of this sort
wouldn't be at all noisy," observed Pendleton, in
a heavy attempt at jocularity.
Except for a word now and then, they waited
in silence for a half hour; then a door opened and
steps were heard in the hall. Both turned and
saw a remarkably small man, perhaps well under
five feet, dressed with great care and walking with
a quick nervous step. His head was very large
and partly bald, rearing above his small frame


202
ASHTON-KIRK
like a great, bare dome; he carried a silk hat in
his hand, and peered abstractedly through spec-
tacles of remarkable thickness.
"Locke," breathed Pendleton, as his heart
paused for a moment and then went on with a
leap.
The little man apparently did not see them
until he was almost beside them; then he paused
with a start, and his eyes grew owlish behind the
magnifying lenses as he strove to make them out.
That he did not recognize them seemed to worry
him; his thin, gray face seemed to grow grayer
and thinner; with a diffident little bow he passed
on and out at the front door.
"Not a very formidable looking criminal,"
commented Ashton-Kirk, quietly. "However,
you can seldom judge by appearances. The most
astonishing crime that ever came to my notice
was perpetrated by the meekest and most conven-
tional man I had ever seen."
They waited for still another space, and then
the man who had shown them in presented him-
self. He was now without the lantern, but wore
a melancholy look.
"Dr. Mercer will see you," said he in a low
voice. "He is very much vexed at being dis-
turbed. He'll remember it against me for weeks."
He appeared very much disturbed.
Ashton-Kirk placed a coin in the speaker's


INVESTIGATOR 203
hand; this seemed to have a bracing effect, for he
led them into his employer's presence in a brighter
frame of mind. Dr. Mercer was seated at the
table in his dining-room. A napkin was tucked
in his collar, his fat hands were folded across his
stomach, and he was breathing heavily.
"Gentlemen," spoke he, rolling his eyes
around to them, "I trust you will pardon my not
rising. But to exert myself after dining has a
most injurious result sometimes. My digestion is
painfully impaired; the slightest excitement
causes me the utmost suffering."
"I appreciate the fact that we are intruding at
a most inconvenient time," said Ashton-Kirk.
"And I beg of you to accept our apologies."
The eyes of Dr. Mercer, which had the ap-
pearance of swimming in fat, were removed from
his visitors, and fixed themselves longingly upon
a great dish filled with a steaming, heavy-looking
pudding. His breath labored in his chest as he
replied:
"The hour is somewhat unusual; but as it hap-
pens I have about finished my dinner, and if your
errand is not of a stirring nature, I should be
pleased to have you state it."
The man placed chairs in such a position that
the doctor would not have to stir to fully observe
his visitors. This done he was about to with-
draw; but his employer stopped him at the door.


INVESTIGATOR 205
alarmed; but he spoke at last, reluctantly, resent-
fully.
"I am now ready to hear you, gentlemen, if
you please. And kindly remember that I pro-
hibit anything of an exciting nature at this time."
"We have heard your school highly spoken
of," said Ashton-Kirk. "And have come to
make some inquiries before making up our
minds."
"Ah," breathed Dr. Mercer, solemnly, "you
have an afflicted one. Too badl Tut, tut, tut,
too bad!"
"There are many institutions of the sort," pro-
ceeded the investigator. "But for the most part
they stop at the threshold, so to speak, of knowl-
edge."
Dr. Mercer roused himself so far as to unclasp
his hands and point with one finger at the speaker.
"Sir," said he, in a voice full of grave signifi-
cance, "they seldom reach the threshold. A large
majority of them are conducted by dishonest per-
sons. Afflicted youth left in their charge are
rarely properly directed—they rarely acquire that
digital dexterity so necessary to success in their
limited lives. The isolated brain, so to call it, is
seldom more than half awakened. Unless it is
intelligently approached, the shadows are never
thoroughly dispelled."
Here he paused, panting distressedly; his eyes


206
ASHTON-KIRK
were filled with reproach as he relapsed into his
first attitude; and his manner was that of one who
mutely begged that no further tasks be thrust
upon him.
"The difference in institutions of this type lies
mainly in the methods employed, I believe," said
Ashton-Kirk.
"In the methods—and in the persons who ap-
ply them," replied Dr. Mercer in a smothered
tone.
"To be sure. I have heard something of your
teaching staff. It is a very excellent one, is it
not?"
"The best in the world." The soft, fat, white
hands of the doctor again unclasped themselves;
and this time both of them were employed in a
faintly traced gesture. "We employ scientists.
We do not stop at what you have correctly called
the threshold. We explore the entire structure of
the intellect. Our Professor Locke, himself an
afflicted one, is a man of vast erudition—a scholar
of an advanced type, a philosopher whose adven-
tures into the field of psychology and natural sci-
ence is widely known. He has charge of the prac-
tical work of the Mercer Institute, and under him
its results are positive and unique."
"We have heard of Professor Locke," and,
drily, "have seen some of his work."
"If you had stated your business before—ah—


INVESTIGATOR 207
coming in to me," spoke the doctor, "you might
have had an opportunity of consulting him. He
left for his cottage immediately after dining."
"He does not live here, then?"
"Not in this building—no. There is a de-
tached cottage at the far end of the grounds
which he occupies. If you'd like to see him,"
and the heavy jowls of the speaker trembled with
eagerness, "Haines will show you there at once."
"If it is no trouble," said Ashton-Kirk,
smoothly.
"Not in the least." The doctor rang for his
man, and when he entered, said: "These gen-
tlemen would like to speak to Professor Locke.
Show them the way to his house. And, gentle-
men," to the callers, with anxiety, "the professor
can arrange everything with you. It is my habit"
to nod for a half hour after dinner. My system
has grown to expect it, and if I am deprived of
it, I suffer considerably in consequence."
"We will not trouble you again, doctor," Ash-
ton-Kirk assured him. "Thank you, and good-
night."
Once more outside, the man led them along a
foot-path that seemed to cut the institution
grounds in two. The rays of his lantern danced
along the carefully kept lawn; the shadowy trees
seemed to move backward and forward, as the
thin beams wavered among them.


208
ASHTON-KIRK
"The professor lives a good piece away," the
man informed them. "Away over on the county
road."
"Prefers to be alone, eh?"
"I suppose so, sir. And then he has his labo-
ratory and work-shop there, well away from in-
terruption. He don't like to be much disturbed
while he is engaged in his studies."
"Few of us do," said Pendleton.
"Quite right, sir."
They walked along in silence for a time; then
they caught a clear humming noise from some
distance ahead.
"A motor car," said Pendleton.
"It's on the county road," said the man with
the light. "We always hear them when the wind
blows from that direction."
After some fifteen minutes' steady walking they
saw a long twinkling shaft of light coming from
among the trees.
"That's) the house," said Haines. "I hope the
professor ain't busy; you wouldn't believe what a
blowing up he can give a body with his fingers
when he's vexed. Vd almost rather have the
doctor himself; though, as a rule, the professor is
a very nice gentleman."
The house was a brick structure of two stories
and dimly lighted on the lower floor. Near by


INVESTIGATOR
was a long, shed-like building, the windows of
which were brilliantly lighted.
"He's at work," said Haines, in a troubled
tone. "And in the shop too! If it was even the
laboratory, it wouldn't be so bad. But he does
get so interested in the shop. That machine
means more to him, whatever it is, than anything
else about the place."
There came a harsh burring sound from within
both the shop and the house. Haines seemed
surprised.
"Visitors," he said. "He seldom has one; and
I never knew any to come at night before."
They saw the figure of Locke cross one of the
shed windows toward a door. And just then
Ashton-Kirk stumbled rather heavily against
Haines; the lantern dropped to the ground and
was extinguished.
"I beg your pardon," said the investigator in
a rueful tone; then he began to rub his shins.
"That was rather hard, whatever it was."
The door of the building opened and Locke
appeared; his great bald head shone in the light
that streamed after him; and it was thrust for-
ward as he strove to penetrate the darkness
ahead.
"He feels the vibrations of those buzzers,"
Haines told them, "and knows right away when
anyone wants to get in."


aio
ASHTON-KIRK
He began fumbling with the lantern as Locke
disappeared; but Ashton-Kirk said to him:
"You need not light that. We can see very
well. And, on second thought, you need not wait,
either. We can introduce ourselves to Professor
Locke without troubling you further."
"Thank you, sir," said the man, vastly re-
lieved. "They all have queer dispositions, you
see, and I don't like to trouble them."
At once Haines made his way back along the
path by which they had approached; some dis-
tance away they saw him kindle his lantern, and
then watched the yellow spark as it glanced fit-
fully away across the grounds.
The cottage and work-shop of Professor Locke
appeared to be set back some little distance from
what Haines had called the county road; a grove
of tall trees thickened the shadows all about, and
it was into these trees that the professor had
gone.
"The. buzzer must have the button that sounds
it attached to a gate opening upon the road,"
said Pendleton.
They stood for a short time in silence; then
Pendleton nudged his friend with an elbow.
"Look," he whispered. "There at the door
of the shed."
Ashton-Kirk did so. And he was just in time
to see a large, iron-gray head, a craggy, powerful


INVESTIGATOR 211
face, and a pair of thick shoulders; the expres-
sion and attitude were those of a man listening
intently. Almost instantly, as Ashton-Kirk's gaze
fell upon him, the man withdrew.
"Humph," exclaimed Pendleton under his
breath. "Who's that, I wonder?"
They waited for some time longer in silence.
But the little man did not return, nor did the head
appear again at the shop door. Ashton-Kirk ap-
peared puzzled.
"Locke intended returning at once," he said
to Pendleton. "Otherwise he would have closed
his work-shop door." Then his eyes wandered
toward the house, and his grip closed tightly upon
his companion's arm. "Look," whispered he, in
his turn.
Pendleton's gaze flew toward the house. The
lower windows had been dimly lighted when they
approached; but now the glow from them was
high and brilliant. In one of the rooms they saw
Locke; he was striding up and down, his hands
clinched and gesturing, his face upturned, writh-
ing hideously. Seated at a table, calmly engaged
in examining something traced upon a sheet of
paper, and apparently not paying the slightest at-
tention to the gesticulating man, was a young
woman. And Pendleton felt himself grow sud-
denly faint and sick as he recognized Edyth Vale.


CHAPTER XV
Miss Vale Departs Suddenly
For a moment there was a silence between the
two men; then Ashton-Kirk said, dryly:
"Miss Vale has, apparently, not been altogether
frank with us in this matter."
"You think then "began Pendleton in a
voice of terror. But Ashton-Kirk stopped him.
"I think many things," said he. "But they
are neither here nor there. Facts are what count.
Put the circumstances together for yourself and
■see where they lead you. Miss Vale has been
from the first mixed up more or less in this crime.
She explained. As far as I knew the explanation
was made in good faith. Now we find her here
in this lonely place, quietly engaged with a man
whom I have convinced myself is one of Hume's
murderers."
There was another pause; this time it was Pen-
dleton who broke the silence.
"As you say," spoke he, in a strange, throaty
sort of tone, "she has not been quite f rank. Take
all the circumstances together and they seem to
point"
913


INVESTIGATOR 213
He paused as though quite unable to finish.
Ashton-Kirk laid a hand upon his shoulder.
"Imagination is a thing that is vitally neces-
sary in this sort of work," said he. "But it must
be held in check by reason. The great trouble
with an amateur is that he reasons up to a cer-
tain point; then he allows his imagination to take
a long leap toward a result. The upshot is that
his results have seldom anything to support
them. The correct method, I think, is to allow
the imagination to scurry ahead in the way that
is natural to it; but reason must follow close be-
hind, proving each step of the way. To be sure,
you may have theories, hypotheses, ideas without
end, but you must never take them for granted.
Select each in its turn, place it in a tube as the
chemist does, add a few drops of reason, and
you may produce a fact. It is the only way to
go about it. Once a man becomes fixed in a be-
lief, be there ever so little foundation for it, his
mind stops revolving the subject; further pro-
cedure is hopeless."
"I understand all that well enough," said Pen-
dleton. "But," and he waved his hand toward
the house, "what does this mean?"
"I don't know," said Ashton-Kirk. "And
neither do you. So—that being the case—there
is but one thing to do—find out."
They gazed toward the window once more,


2i4 ASHTON-KIRK
Miss Vale had apparently mastered the contents
of the paper, and was now engaged in writing
rapidly. As the young men watched, she stopped,
read carefully what she had written, and then
handed it to Locke. The mute carried the paper
to the light, and holding it very near to his eyes
read it with much attention; then he tore it into
strips, placed it upon the red coals of a stove
which stood near him and watched it burn. Fac-
ing Miss Vale, his fingers began to fly rapidly in
intricate signs. This only lasted a moment, how-
ever; for he stopped, gestured passionately, seized
a pad of paper and began to write.
While he was thus engaged, Ashton-Kirk said
to Pendleton in a low tone:
"Remain here for a moment."
Then slowly, carefully, the investigator made
his way toward the window through which Miss
Vale and Locke were to be seen.
Heavy beams of light shot across the ground
from the windows; but here and there were trails
of shadow. He clung to these until he had
reached the shelter of the walls; then to Pendle-
ton's amazement he stepped directly in front of
the window through which the two were to be
seen, rapped smartly upon the glass, and remained
standing in full view, of the two in the room.
Pendleton saw the pad drop from Locke's
hands; he saw thd mute wheel as he felt the vibra-



HIS RAPPED SMARTLY ON THE WINDOW





INVESTIGATOR 215
tions and stare at the window, his eyes puckered
and straining. He also saw Miss Vale rise, saw
her hands thrown out in a gesture much like de-
spair; and also he heard the cry that she uttered,
muffled by the confines of the room, but full of
fear. Then the room was plunged into darkness;
an instant later a door was heard to open; the
sound of quick-moving feet came to him; there
followed the pulsations of a motor and the racing
of a car away into the night.
"She's off," breathed the young man, and there
was undoubted relief in the knowledge. "She's
off, and I really believe that's what Kirk was
after."
He walked toward the house and found his
friend standing in the shadows.
"Well," chuckled the investigator, "it did not
take her long to make up her mind, eh?"
"You had some motive in doing that," accused
Pendleton. "What was it?"
Ashton-Kirk was about to reply; but just then
the small figure of Locke made its appearance.
He carried a lantern and was approaching with
stumbling steps, his eyes peering and blinking in
their efforts to pierce the gloom. Not until he
was well upon the two did he make them out;
then he halted, lifted the light above his head and
surveyed them intently.
In the rays of the lantern Ashton-Kirk smiled


2l6
ASHTON-KIRK
urbanely, and bowed. The supple fingers of the
mute writhed inquiringly.
"Each of them forms itself into a wild note
of interrogation," said Pendleton. "They are
fairly screaming questions at you."
Ashton-Kirk smiled ;even more agreeably at
Locke and shook his head. Then he went
through the pantomime of one writing, and fin-
ished by pointing to the house.
Carefully, eagerly, fearfully, the mute examined
them; his near-sighted eyes and the wavering
light must have made it all but impossible for
him to make them out. However, he at length
motioned for them to follow him, and started
back by the way which he had come. But after
a few steps he halted. He indicated that they
were to remain where they were; then he went to
the shed-like building, closed the door and locked
it, placing the key in his pocket.
"It would seem," observed Ashton-Kirk, "that
we are not to be trusted implicitly."
"Also," replied Pendleton, "that there is some-
thing of value in the shed."
Returning, Locke led the way to a door upon
the other side of the house. Showing them into
a small room furnished with books and scientific
apparatus and evidently a study, he set down the
lantern and with a sign bade them be seated.
Upon their doing so he produced a small pad of


INVESTIGATOR 217
paper and a pencil; handing these to Ashton-Kirk
he stood peering at them expectantly. With the
swift, accurate touch of an expert, the investigator
wrote in the Pitman shorthand:
"We ask pardon if we have startled you."
Then he tore off the sheet and handed it to
Professor Locke. The man seemed surprised at
the medium selected by his visitor; nevertheless
he quickly traced the following in the same char-
acters.
"Who are you? What is your errand?"
"We were sent to you by Dr. Mercer," replied
Ashton-Kirk with flying pencil. "Our business
is to secure the admission of a new pupil."
Locke read this and regarded them for a mo-
ment, doubtfully.
"Why did you not press the button at the
door?" he demanded in writing.
"I hardly expected you to have such a thing as
a bell," answered Ashton-Kirk, on the pad. "And
so, seeing you, I attracted your attention as best I
could."
Professor Locke read this and stood with his
pencil poised, when the buzzer sounded harshly;
he went at once into the hall; they heard him open
the door; and in a few moments he returned,
followed by Haines.
The fingers of the two flashed their signals
back and forth; then a look of relief came into


INVESTIGATOR 219
upon the fanciful pupil whom the investigator
stated he desired to place in Dr. Mercer's care,
Pendleton paid little heed to it. At last, however,
they bid the Professor good-by, and left him upon
the threshold, his massive head nodding his
adieus, his frail little body sharply outlined by the
glow from the hall.
The two had reached their own car around on
the other road before Pendleton spoke. Then
he inquired:
"Well, have you learned anything from him?"
"I think I can say 'yes' to that," answered
the other. "But I'm not yet sure. I'll have to
put it to the proof first, according to the formula
which I gave you a half hour ago. If it succeeds,
I'll tell you what it is; if it does not, I'll say
nothing, and it will go upon the scrap heap de-
voted to broken fancies. And now, Dixon," to
the chauffeur, "we'll go home."


CHAPTER XVI
Steel Against Steel
Shortly before noon next day, Ashton-Kirk, in
an immaculate morning suit, was ushered into the
presence of Miss Edyth Vale. If he expected con-
fusion, embarrassment or anything of that sort, he
was disappointed; for she greeted him eagerly
and with outstretched hand.
"This is a surprise,'r she said.
He held her hand and looked meaningly at her.
"My appearances are sometimes surprising,"
he said. "But I usually select the night for them;
the effect is better then, you see."
She smiled into his eyes.
*' I have no doubt but that you are dreadfully
mysterious," she said. "But please sit down."
She seated herself near the window; holding a
book in her hand, she fluttered the leaves to and
fro.
"The composure," thought the investigator, as
he sat down, "is somewhat overdone."
"I wonder," said Miss Vale, looking at the
book, "if you are an admirer of Ibsen." And as
he nodded, she proceeded with a slight smile. "I
know that he is scarcely the usual thing for a
sao


INVESTIGATOR
221
spring morning. But there are times when I sim-
ply can't resist him."
"He's a strong draught at any time," said Ash-
ton-Kirk. "But his tonic quality is undoubted."
"His disciples claim that for him, at any rate,"
she answered. "But sometimes I question its
truth. Where is the tonic effect of 'Rosmer-
sholm?' I think it full of terrors." She shud-
dered and added: "The White Horses will
haunt me for weeks."
"It's the atmosphere of crime," said he. "That
quiet home on the western fiords reeks with it."
She made a gesture of repulsion.
"It's ghastly!" she exclaimed. "And, some-
how, one feels it from the very first—before a
word is spoken. Imagine Rebecca at the window,
watching through the plants to see if Rosmer uses
the footbridge from which his wife once leaped to
her death." She paused a moment, her eyes upon
the open pages; then lifting her head, she asked:
"What do you think of Rebecca?"
"A tremendous character — of wonderful
strength. It was just such proud, dark, purpose-
ful souls that Byron delighted to draw; but the
only one in literature to whom I can fully liken
her is the wife of Macbeth. There was the same
ambition—the same ruthless will—the same dis-
regard of everything that stood in her way. And,
like Cawdor's wife, she weakened in the end."


222
ASHTON-KIRK
She regarded him fixedly.
"Would you call it weakness?" she asked.
"She fell in love with Johannes, did she not?
That was weakness—for her. She herself rec-
ognized it as such."
The girl looked at him thoughtfully for a mo-
ment.
"That is true," she said.
"Some of the world's most daring and accom-
plished criminals have been women," he went on.
"But Nature never intended woman to be the
bearer of burdens; there is a weakness in her soul
structure somewhere; she usually sinks under the
consciousness of guilt."
"More so than men, do you think?"
"As a rule—yes."
She put down the book and clasped her hands
in her lap.
"There is no need to sympathize with Re-
becca," she said. "She was brave and strong,
even in her love for Johannes. But he," and
there was a note in her voice that recalled the
night he had listened to it over the telephone,
"he was different. There is no more dreadful
thing in the play, to me, than the character of
Rosmer. To think of him sitting quietly in that
charnel house, prospering in soul, growing sleek in
thought, becoming stored with high ideas. Per-
fect peace came to him in spite of the stern-faced


226 ASHTON-KIRK
"If he had gone away on business, don't you
think he would have mentioned it to someone?"
"Perhaps he did not think it necessary. And
again, maybe he did not expect to be gone so long.
Such things frequently happen, you know."
"They do," admitted Ashton-Kirk. "But in
the case of Allan Morris, they somehow fail to
fit. I am convinced that he is in hiding."
She regarded him steadily for a moment; then
she said:
"You are convinced, you say?"
I am.
"May I ask upon what your conviction is
based?"
"Not now—no."
There was another pause; the man was at the
door, ready to show the investigator out.
"Perhaps," and her tone was very low, "you
even fancy that you know his hiding-place."
"Not just yet," said he, "but in a few hours
at most, I will."
Her lips formed the good-by as he stood in the
doorway; but she made no sound. And Ashton-
Kirk as he walked down the hall, smiled quietly
to himself.


CHAPTER XVII
What Happened on the Road
About half an hour after Ashton-Kirk had left
the Vale mansion, a.Maillard car drew up before
the door. As it did so, an Italian laborer arose
from the curb not far away where he had been
comfortably seated with his back against a tree;
then throwing his arms wide in a luxurious yawn,
he started leisurely down the street.
Five minutes later, a veiled, dust-coated female
figure descended the step; the driver of the Mail-
lard was dismissed, and Miss Vale composedly
took his place at the wheel. As the car started
forward, the gauntleted hands guided it firmly;
the steady eyes were set straight ahead as the
lever was pushed first to one speed and then an-
other.
And as the rapid pulse of the motor was borne
along the quiet avenue, the Italian laborer calmly
appeared from around a corner, pushing a power-
ful-looking motor cycle before him. Another
moment and the machine was sounding its wild
fusillade; the Italian sped away in the same direc-
tion as the Maillard, his battered soft hat set
"7


228
ASHTON-KIRK
jauntily upon the back of his head, his gay-colored
neckkerchief streaming in the wind.
The car kept to the avenue for a long time;
but finally in the far suburbs it made a sharp turn
to the left and a few miles further on shot into a
broad highway that ran parallel with the rail-
road.
Bending forward so as to offer the least resist-
ance to the wind, the Italian's swarthy face re-
laxed at this; his fine white teeth showed in a
smile.
"Cordova, I think," muttered he, in very good
English. "If not, then somewhere very near to
it."
Once upon the highway, which was hard, level
and practically deserted, the Maillard increased
its speed. Eddies of dust curled in its wake; its
hum resembled that of a gigantic top; its shining
brass and smooth gloss made it look like a streak
of light. But the motor cycle was of the best;
its compact, powerful mechanism answered bravely
to each call that was made upon it by the dark-
faced man in the saddle; its explosions had merged
into one long volley.
At a small and not very firm-looking bridge the
Maillard slowed down; apparently for the first
time Miss Vale heard the cycle in the rear, for
she turned and gave it a quick look. But the dust
of her own progress hung thickly in the air and


INVESTIGATOR 229
she could not see very clearly. Passing the bridge
at a low rate of speed, she turned again. The
dark face of the rider, his battered hat and flying
'kerchief seemed to satisfy her; for once more
she gave attention to her course, and again the
car increased its speed. A mile or two further
on there was a rather broken stretch of road and
she was forced to slow down. As the sound of
her own vehicle diminished, she, as before, caught
the volleying of the motor cycle; and as she turned
the eyes that looked through the veil were intent
and searching.
This time she appeared not so well satisfied,
for upon reaching the end of the broken stretch,
she drew her car to one side and stopped. As
the hammering explosions of the motor cycle grew
plainer and plainer she sat rigidly erect upon her
seat, her face turned directly ahead. But a close
observer would have noted a slow movement of
her right hand among the folds of the dust coat;
and if he was also an experienced observer he
would have immediately understood that Miss
Vale did not venture alone and unarmed upon the
road.
However, the Italian never even gave her a
glance as he came up; his machine flew by with
a swirl, amid a crashing crescendo; then it disap-
peared in the dust of the distance.
But Miss Vale, when she once more resumed


23o ASHTON-KIRK
her journey, had not gone much more than a mile
when she came upon the same swarthy son of the
south and his vociferous machine. But the latter
was now silent enough; it leaned against a fence,
and its rider knelt! beside it, a wrench in his hand,
testing its parts carefully and intently.
The Maillard was less than a quarter of a mile
away when Miss Vale caught the rapid series of
explosions once more. With a quick glance ahead,
she threw the lever forward and the car tore
along at a breathless rate. Fences ran by in a
giddy staggering line; trees seemed merged into
one tangle of branches; the dust arose in solid
towers behind her. However, she held to this
but a scant five minutes; her breath was short
when she decreased the power; the hands upon the
wheel shook a little, but her head was held erect,
her face was still purposefully set forward.
Above the decreasing hum of her car, came the
swift, brave shocks of the motor cycle. But, if
there was a dread that fell to tightening at her
heart, she showed it little. The Maillard still
bore swiftly on; she did not once turn her head.
A little further on there came into view a post
with a series of white, pointing sign-boards, that
indicated a cross-roads. When still a hundred
yards from this the car stopped once more; again
the Italian flew by; again he vanished, this time
around a bend beyond the cross-roads. But once


INVESTIGATOR 231
hidden by the bend, he stopped and got down; the
smile again appeared upon his face, the brilliant
teeth shone good-naturedly.
"A simple little ruse," he said to himself.
"And one that I've seen used with effect more
than once. Evidently Miss Vale has her wits
about her."
Leaning against his machine he waited and
listened. From around the bend came the low
sound of the Maillard; nearer and nearer it came
for a time; then it began to recede. At this the
Italian remounted; the explosions of his motor
were muffled as he went swiftly along upon the
way by which he had come. At the cross-roads
he slowed up and examined the ground. Deep
in the dust was the broad impress of the tires,
showing the car to have taken the turn to
the left. Then swiftly the cycle turned into
the same road and took up the trail once
more.
Some three miles further on, the track veered
back toward the highway along a badly cut dirt
road.
"Slow going for a heavy car," said the pursuer
calmly. "It will not be long before I sight it
again."
There was a hard, beaten footpath at one side
of the road; taking to this, the man on the motor
cycle found it easy traveling enough. Shortly


ASHTON-KIRK
after, he caught the laborings of the Maillard as
it made its way through the binding ruts; then he
slowed down and ran easily along the path, con-
tent, apparently, to keep in sound of the chase.
But upon finally reaching the highway, he in-
creased his speed until he sighted the dust of the
car; this he hung to like a beagle, but never once
allowed the car itself to come into view.
At last the sounds of the Maillard ceased and
the pall of dust thinned and dissolved itself in
the air. The motor cycle ran swiftly on until the
car, now at a standstill, became visible; then
the Italian got down, took out a pair of field-
glasses and swept the highway before him.
What he saw must have satisfied him that there
would be no more use for his machine for a time,
at least; for he pushed it to a place where there
was a break in a fence and concealed it behind a
musty-looking corn shock, left from the fall be-
fore. Then placing the glas3 under his arm he
walked guardedly along the road in the direction
of Miss Vale's car.
Some distance further on there was a tall swamp
maple growing by the roadside; it was an easy
task to mount into its branches from the top fence-
rail; then resting snugly in a high fork, he leveled
his glass and proceeded to scan the scene before
him.
Miss Vale had descended from her car; her


INVESTIGATOR 233
veil was raised, and she was gingerly picking at
the mechanism with hands sheathed in canvas
gloves. With apparent intentness she took out
tools; small parts were inspected minutely. And
yet, for all that, there was something unusual in
her manner; every now and then she would lift
her head, casually, so it seemed, and glance away
across the fields.
"And always to the right," murmured the man
in the tree-top, after a little.
At once the big glass swept around in that
direction.
"A house," added the watcher, with great sat-
isfaction.
The building was almost buried in a thick
growth of trees; its white sides and red roof shone
in the sun through branches abud with April.
Suddenly, in the midst of her labor, Miss Vale
paused; her manner changed, the tools were
dropped, the parts lost interest. Facing the
house, she yawned, with arms thrown wide after
the manner of one much wearied with a task; then
she took off the gloves, unpinned her hat and
smoothed her hair. This was gone through with
careful elaboration and afterwards there was a
pause; the girl then gathered up the things, got
into the machine, placed the hat upon the seat be-
side her, went careening away with never a back-
ward glance.


234 ASHTON-KIRK
But the man in the tree seemed in no haste to
follow; instead he covered the distant house with
his glass and waited patiently. Five, ten, fifteen
minutes passed, then half an hour and finally an
hour. At the end of that time, however, a figure
emerged from the trees about the house and
walked hastily toward the road; the eyes of the
watcher glistened, his fine teeth shone in an ap-
preciative smile.
Reaching the road where the car had stopped,
the newcomer, who was young, well-dressed and
rather good-looking, suddenly paused, stooped and
lifted something from the ground. He held in
his hands the work gloves of Miss Vale, which
she had dropped after taking them off. For a
moment the young man stood looking at them
as though hesitating what to do; then he turned,
went to the roadside and placed them carefully
upon the top rail of the fence. Then trudging
along on his way, he unsuspectingly passed be-
neath the maple which concealed the man with
the glass.
When he was out of sight, the Italian slipped
down the tree and ran lightly along the road to
the place where the gloves lay. He took up one
and looked within; but it was empty. However,
in the thumb of the next was a slip of paper which
bore a single line of writing:
"Tobin Rangnow."


CHAPTER XVIII
Ashton-Kirk Tells Why
It was about four in the afternoon, and young
Pendleton sat in Ashton-Kirk's big chair, reading
the newspapers and waiting. Finally he rang a
bell and Stumph gravely appeared.
"Are you sure that he said three?" asked Pen-
dleton. V
"About three, sir," replied the man.
"Oh! I suppose he's been detained then. That
will be all, Stumph!"
When the man disappeared, Pendleton lighted
a cigar and resumed his reading. The Hume
case was still holding its place as the news fea-
ture of the day. Nothing had occurred to equal
it in sensation; and the huge headings flared
across the front pages, undiminished and undis-
mayed.
"Why," screamed the Standard, in a perfect
frenzy of letter press, "did Miss Edyth Vale
visit Hume on the night of the murder?"
The girl's name had crept into the paper on
the day before; with each edition it appeared in
larger type; and that afternoon the Standard was
printing it in red ink. Allan Morris was not neg-
336


INVESTIGATOR
Iected; on the contrary, he figured a very close
second to his betrothed in the types.
"Where is Allan Morris?"
One paper asked this question perhaps fifty
times on each page. It peered at one in square,
heavy-faced type from the bottoms of columns
and between articles. There were interviews
with his clerks; the opinions of his stenographer
were given in full, together with her portrait;
and what his man servant had to say was treated
as being of great consequence.
Another sheet, which made a point of appeal-
ing to the tastes of the vast foreign element of
the city, grew very indignant as to the arrest of
Antonio Spatola.
"Why," it inquired, "is this man detained and
no attempt made to take those higher up into
custody? If the Police Department is so ready
to incarcerate a poor musician, why should it hes-
itate upon the threshold of the rich man's man-
sion?—or the rich woman's, for the matter of
that?"
This item incensed Pendleton beyond measure;
he threw the paper aside and stormed up and
down the room.
"Of all the blatant wretched twaddle I ever
did read," he exclaimed, "this is positively the
worst. Why, the rag would have the police arrest
Edyth—arrest her for——"


ASHTON-KIRK
"Well," demanded a sharp, aggressively
pitched voice, "what for you make-a da blame,
eh? Da cops pinch-a Spatola, and for why, eh?
Because he's da wop, da Ginney, da Dago and
got-a no friends."
At the first word Pendleton had whirled about
in astonishment, and faced the speaker, who stood
in the doorway, pointing with one hand in the
attitude of melodrama.
"Well," asked the young man, "who the deuce
are you?"
By way of an answer the other burst into a
laugh that showed his brilliant teeth; then he
threw off his battered soft hat and gayly colored
handkerchief, after which he sank into the chair
which Pendleton had lately vacated.
"Pen," said he, in an altered voice, "if you
appreciate my friendship at all, give me one of
the blackest cigars in the case over there."
Pendleton stared for a moment; then a grin
crept over his face and he said:
"Oh, it's you, is it?" He went to the cabinet
and took out a box. "Here's a brand that looks
like black Havana," he said. "And now, what
the dickens are you doing in that rig?"
"I've been taking a long ride in the country—
on a motor cycle," answered Ashton-Kirk, cross-
ing his shabbily clothed legs and striking a match.
"Any time you feel disinclined to face your


INVESTIGATOR 239
meals, Pen, I recommend you heartily to do the
same. It is a greater bracer. At this moment I
really believe I could do complete justice to even
the very best culinary thoughts of our friend, Dr.
Mercer."
Pendleton sat down and regarded his friend
with questioning eyes.
"It wasn't to acquire an appetite that you made
up this way. You've been working."
Ashton-Kirk comfortably blew one smoke-ring
through another before he answered.
"Will you be surprised to hear that I have been
following Miss Edyth Vale on a little voyage to
the neighborhood of Cordova?"
"Again!"
"But this time she did not pay a visit to Pro-
fessor Locke. To-day the favored one was Allan
Morris."
"Morris! Then she knows where he is?"
"So it would seem."
"But she told you the other day that she did
not."
Ashton-Kirk shrugged his shoulders.
"Things happen swiftly and unexpectedly,"
said he. "Perhaps she did not know it then."
"And perhaps she did not know Locke or his
whereabouts, either," said Pendleton, with bitter
irony.
"Who knows?" replied Ashton-Kirk, com-


24o ASHTON-KIRK
posedly. "At any rate, it was just a supposition
that led to my labors of to-day."
"I don't think I understand," said Pendleton,
after a moment.
"Last night," said the investigator, "you
asked me if I had learned anything from
Professor Locke. And I replied to the effect
that I thought I had. Now," after a pause, de-
voted to the grateful smoke, "when one sees a
girl circumstanced as Miss Vale assuredly is in
this case, paying a secret visit to a man who is
rather more than suspected of the murder, what
does one suppose?"
"That she is leagued with him, somehow," re-
plied Pendleton,| reluctantly.
"Exactly. But on the other hand, when the
same girl, upon sight of us, rushes off and leaves
the man to face us without giving him a hint as to
who we are, what does one suppose?"
But Pendleton rose gloomily and strode over
to the window.
"I don't know," said he.
"One supposes," proceeded Aishton-Kirk,
"that she has not much interest ,in him." Here
Pendleton faced about again. "If she had been
leagued with him, as you put it, you may be sure
that she would have managed to warn him in
some way as to our identity. But that she had not
done so, the mute's manner told me as plainly


INVESTIGATOR 241
as words could have done. Seeing this, I began
figuring what it meant. If she was not associated
with Locke in the crime, why was she there? Im-
mediately came the answer—through Morris.
But, when I saw her last, she denied any knowl-
edge of Morris's whereabouts. Then I reasoned,
she had seen him in the interim."
"That's it," cried Pendleton, as he stepped
forward and slapped the table with his palm;
"that's it, beyond a doubt! He's managed to
get word to her; she's seen him; he's told her all
or part of the truth; and once more she's trying
to help him. Why, Kirk, I'll venture to say,"
hot with indignation, "that she was led to visit
this little scoundrel Locke, last night, much as
she was led to visit Hume's place on the night of
the murder—completely in the dark, and merely
with some sort of a vague notion of protecting
Morris."
"Perhaps you are right, but I can't exactly say.
But that she has seen Morris I have made quite
sure."
"How?"
"Last night when I appeared at Locke's win-
dow, I established a reason for calling upon her
this morning, also I laid a foundation for what
followed. Before the call I made certain prepa-
rations for a quick change of front," with a ges-
ture that called attention to his costume; "in our


INVESTIGATOR
ing, "it could scarcely be expected to share the
honors with Tobin."
He took the card from Pendleton and looked
at it thoughtfully. Then he glanced up in a satis-
fied sort of way:
"As you suggested, Miss Vale no doubt re-
turned, recovered her gloves and read the mes-
sage," said he. "As she had just warned him that
his hiding place was discovered, it is only natural
to suppose that his answer would have something
to do with his future movements."
"That seems likely enough," said Pendleton.
"Look here; if we put a comma between the
two words," went on the investigator, taking out
a pencil and doing so, "the thing takes on the
appearance of a name and address."
Once more he gave the card to Pendleton; then
rising he went to the telephone stand and took up
the directory. Skimming rapidly through this he
paused at a page and went down its columns care-
fully. Then with a laugh he slapped it shut.
"We have it," declared he. "When we so
desire, we can call at an apartment house known
as the 'Rangnow' and inquire for Mr. Tobin.
And when we see that gentleman we shall be
looking upon one in the confidence of Allan
Morris."
There was a long pause on the part of Pendle-
ton. Ashton-Kirk rang for Stumph and directed


INVESTIGATOR 245
"I have warned you before now against jump-
ing at conclusions," said the other, quietly. "Al-
lan Morris may be a confederate of Locke's, or
he may not. We have yet to establish the fact
either way. And now, pardon me while I take a
plunge and get into something presentable."


244
ASHTON-KIRK
him to turn the water into his bath, and get him
out some fresh linen. It was after the man had
gone that Pendleton spoke.
"When you came in, Kirk," he said, "you
said something which conveyed the notion that
you would not be much astonished if the police
took up the Hume matter with Edyth Vale."
"It is only the fact that the newspapers were
first in discovering her apparent connection with
it, that has kept Osborne and his fellows from vis-
iting her before this. Jealousy, you know, does
many strange things."
Pendleton did not reply; he bent his head and
covered his face with his hands. Ashton-Kirk
went on:
"The reasonable thing for her to do would be
to come forward and tell the plain truth."
Pendleton roused himself.
"But don't you see that that is the very thing
that her brave nature will not do? She's protect-
ing Morris; and she'll go on protecting him, no
matter what the consequence to herself."
"In that event," said the investigator slowly,
"we can not be in too great a hurry in removing
the cause that keeps Morris in hiding."
"You'll have a task in that," said Pendleton.
"As far as I can see, the man is up to his eyes in
the crime; and that's why he is lying low."


INVESTIGATOR 245
"I have warned you before now against jump-
ing at conclusions," said the other, quietly. "Al-
lan Morris may be a confederate of Locke's, or
he may not. We have yet to establish the fact
either way. And now, pardon me while I take a
plunge arid get into something presentable."


CHAPTER XIX
The Two Reports
After dinner the two young men settled them-
selves in the library: Stumph served their coffee
and they renewed their acquaintance with the
Greek tobacco. After a little time there came a
knock upon the door. }
"Come," called AshW-Kirk.
A short man with remarkable breadth of shoul-
der and depth of chest entered; he was smooth
shaven andl salient of jaw and wore the air of one
who was not easily balked in anything that he
undertook.
"How are you, Burgess?" said the investi-
gator.
"Good-evening," returned Burgess. He ad-
vanced and laid some neatly folded sheets at the
elbow of his employer. "Fuller was busy and I
thought I'd bring, these in myself. It's my report
on Hume."
"Ah, thank you."
Ashton-Kirk took up the sheets and began run-
ning his eye through them. "As you get deeper
into this record, did Hume keep his promise?"
Burgess smiled.
346


248
ASHTON-KIRK
same line of business were questioned closely; and
those who knew anything of him at all clung to
the idea that he was an American who had lived
for many years abroad.
"' So we had another look at the old passen-
ger lists of the steamships; but this time we went
further back. We knew that the simple ruse of a
fictitious name would cover Hume completely;
but it seemed the only thing to do, and we set at
it systematically. In the records of the steamer
Baltic of the Netherlands Steamship Company
for the year 1897, we came upon the name of " D.
Purtell." Without much hope of learning any-
thing definite after such a lapse of time, I in-
quired after this passenger.
"' Luck was with us in the shape of an old
clerk with a long memory. He faintly recalled
something of the man, and after some talk got
out still another book. And there it was! D.
Purtell, so it seemed, had been involved in an at-
tempt to smuggle a quantity of diamonds.
"' Our next step was to visit the customs peo-
ple. Their records Were very complete. They
even had a portrait of Purtell, which proved him
to have been Hume beyond a doubt. Only a trifle
of evidence had been secured against him—not
enough to convict—and they were forced to re-
lease him. This seems to have been Hume's
specialty.


INVESTIGATOR
249
"' However, through the customs services of
other countries, they had learned quite a lot about
him. The authorities of Holland, Spain and
France knew him as one of the leading spirits in
a system of smuggling that had been going on for
years. Once Hume had been located in Antwerp,
once at Hamburg, and for a long time at Bay-
onne. This system of contraband had been
broken up just before he had been arrested by the
United States service. A number of the crimi-
nals had been convicted; but Hume, with his
usual luck, had escaped once more, because of
lack of evidence against him.
"' Nothing could be learned of the movements
of Hume between his arrest on the Baltic and his
location here as a dealer in the curiosities of art.
And after his going into business here, he kept to
himself a great deal.
"' But the drink habit caused him to frequent
certain resorts, and it was at one of these that he
first met Richard Morris, father to Allan
Morris!"'
"Ah!" said Pendletori. "So Hume knew
Morris's father."
"I asked Fuller, in giving him his instructions,
to have this fact established, if he could," said
Ashton-Kirk. "That both Hume and the elder
Morris were heavy drinkers caused me to think
it possible."


250
ASHTON-KIRK
"Is that all there is to the report?"
"Almost." The investigator turned to the
pages once more, and proceeded: "' Hume and
the elder Morris became quite intimate and were
often seen together. But what it was that formed
the bond between them, no one knows, unless it be
a deaf mute named Locke, who was frequently
seen in their society and who seemed upon close
terms with both. But within a year after their
first meeting, Hume broke with Morris. This
must have been serious, for it caused a marked
enmity to spring up between them. A number of
people recall that Richard Morris frequently
made threats against the other—threats of per-
sonal violence and also of the law. But before
anything could come of these, if he really meant
them, he died.
"' Thinking that Locke might be able to throw
some light on this phase of the case, we have en-
deavored to locate him. Up to this time we have
met with no success; but we hope to learn some-
thing of him at an early date.'"
Ashton-Kirk laid the sheets down upon the
table.
"There follows a list of the names of the peo-
ple who have supplied this information and their
addresses," said he. "Burgess is very thorough
in his work."
"Outside the fact that Hume was a scoundrel


INVESTIGATOR
251
—which we knew before—and that he was ac-
quainted with Locke and Allan Morris's father,
what does this report tell you?"
There was discontent in Pendleton's voice as
he asked this question, and the investigator smiled
as he made answer:
"That Hume knew the elder Morris supplies
us with a theory as to the possible part which the
younger Morris has taken in this drama. What-
ever passed between Hume and the father has
probably been taken up by the son."
"Why, yes," said. Pendleton. "I hadn't
thought of that."
"Another thing," added Ashton-Kirk: "The
report has swung like the needle of a compass,
and indicated a fact that my imagination sug-
gested days ago."
"And that is"
"That Hume once lived in the French town of
Bayonne."
Pendleton frowned impatiently.
"I don't know what ever made you imagine
that," he said. "But now that you find that it is
so, of what service is it?"
"We will speak of that later," answered Ash-
ton-Kirk.
Pendleton was about to say something more,
but just then Fuller knocked and entered.
"The report on Allan Morris," said he.


250
ASHTON-KIRK
"Is that all there is to the report?"
"Almost." The investigator turned to the
pages once more, and proceeded: "' Hume and
the elder Morris became quite intimate and were
often seen together. But what it was that formed
the bond between them, no one knows, unless it be
a deaf mute named Locke, who was frequently
seen in their society and who seemed upon close
terms with both. But within a year after their
first meeting, Hume broke with Morris. This
must have been serious, for it caused a marked
enmity to spring up between them. A number of
people recall that Richard Morris frequently
made threats against the other—threats of per-
sonal violence and also of the law. But before
anything could come of these, if he really meant
them, he died.
"' Thinking that Locke might be able to throw
some light on this phase of the case, we have en-
deavored to locate him. Up to this time we have
met with no success; but we hope to learn some-
thing of him at an early date.'"
Ashton-Kirk laid the sheets down upon the
table.
"There follows a list of the names of the peo-
ple who have supplied this information and their
addresses," said he. "Burgess is very thorough
in his work."
"Outside the fact that Hume was a scoundrel


INVESTIGATOR 251
—which we knew before—and that he was ac-
quainted with Locke and Allan Morris's father,
what does this report tell you?"
There was discontent in Pendleton's voice as
he asked this question, and the investigator smiled
as he made answer:
"That Hume knew the elder Morris supplies
us with a theory as to the possible part which the
ypunger Morris has taken in this drama. What-
ever passed between Hume and the father has
probably been taken up by the son."
"Why, yes," said. Pendleton. "I hadn't
thought of that."
"Another thing," added Ashton-Kirk: "The
report has swung like the needle of a compass,
and indicated a fact that my imagination sug-
gested days ago."
"And that is"
"That Hume once lived in the French town of
Bayonne."
Pendleton frowned impatiently.
"I don't know what ever made you imagine
that," he said. "But now that you find that it is
so, of what service is it?"
"We will speak of that later," answered Ash-
ton-Kirk.
Pendleton was about to say something more,
but just then Fuller knocked and entered.
"The report on Allan Morris," said he.


252 ASHTON-KIRK
"Ah, thanks." The investigator took the com-
pactly typed sheets, and then he continued: "Tell
Burgess that he need not bother about the man
Locke whom he mentions. Say that I have al-
ready located him."
"Very well," and Fuller left the room.
For a space there was no sound save that which
came from the street and the rustle of the pages
as Ashton-Kirk went through them.
"Well," asked Pendleton, finally. "What
now?"
"Morris," replied his friend, "does not de-
velop like Hume. Fuller suspected that he'd
prove colorless, and so it has turned out. How-
ever, I'll read what he says. It's headed:
"'A Second Report on Allan Morris
"'A very careful inquiry failed to uncover any-
thing in connection with this young man's per-
sonal affairs that was not mentioned in my first
report on the same subject. He has led a very
even, uneventful life, attending strictly to business
and making every movement count in the direc-
tion of distinction as a marine engineer.
"' However, there has been something in his
manner for the last few years that has attracted
the attention of those who knew him best or came
in contact with him. This took thej various forms
of eagerness of manner, irritability, long fits of


254
ASHTON-KIRK
never got beyond the paper stage; for thereafter
Richard Morris spent his days in sleep and his
nights at the once famous Coffin Club.'"
Ashton-Kirk arose eagerly.
"There is more," said he, "but it is scarcely
of interest." Placing the report upon the table,
he added: "You have heard of the Coffin Club,
Pen?"
"Of course. It met in an underground place
somewhere, didn't it? And if I remember right,
it was fitted up like the Cafe Au Mort in
Paris."
"Something of the sort." The investigator
went to a huge card system and pulled out a
drawer labeled "TO." "But I recall it best by
the steward whose philosophy and Irish turns of
speech were so frequently quoted by the news- .
papers during the heydey of the establishment.
Can you recall his name?"
"I know whom you mean," answered Pendle-
ton, "but the name has slipped me."
Ashton-Kirk paused in the fingering of the
cards.
"It was Tobin," said he. "It came to me that
it was, but I wanted to be sure." He pushed the
drawer into place, looked at his friend inquiringly,
and added: "Suppose we go around to the ' Rang-
now' and see him?"


CHAPTER XX
One of the Old Sort
Pendleton looked at his friend in bewilderment.
"You don't mean to say that the philosopher
of the Coffin Club and this Tobin of young Mor-
ris's are the same," cried he.
"I only think they are," said Ashton-Kirk
quietly. "But we can make sure by paying a
short visit to the apartment house."
"Now?"
"There is no time like the present."
And so the end of a half hour found them step-
ping out of a cab at the extreme west end of the
city. It was only a little after nine o'clock, but
.the streets were almost deserted; the arc-lamps
clicked and hissed lonesomely; rows of darkened
windows and shadowy doorways ran away on
both sides.
"There is the place we want," said the investi-
gator, pointing at an illuminated sign which hung
out over the sidewalk some little distance away.
When they reached the place, they found it was
rather a large building of the modern type; push-
ing open the swinging doors and making their
255


256 ASHTON-KIRK
way through a brilliantly lighted passage, they
found themselves in an equally brilliant office.
Here they saw a dozen or more men seated in
tilted chairs; all wore their hats and for the most
part smoked cigars. Behind a polished counter
on which rested a nickeled cash register and a
huge book, stood a white-haired man with a
smooth Irish face and a pair of gold eyeglasses
hanging by a black cord. The air was heavy with
disputation; long-tailed words boomed sonorously;
red-faced and earnest, one of the occupants of the
chairs assailed the man behind the counter; with
soft, sweeping, eloquent gestures the latter de-
fended himself.
"And what," demanded he, placing his hands
upon the shining top of the counter and shoving
his head forward inquiringly, "is all this that we
do be hearing about your suffragette? Who is
she? What is she? The newspapers are filled
to the top with her, but sorra the sight of her did
I ever see. If she has any existence outside of
the comic supplement, gentlemen, I'd like to have
ye show me where. Did ye ever hear a whisper
of her till she began to send herself by registered
mail and chain herself to lamp posts? Niver the
one of yel Is your wife a suffragette? She's not.
Is your mother? No. Your sister? Again it's
no. Then who is it that composes the great army
of female ballot seekers? Is it the cook? The


INVESTIGATOR
haunts," said Ashton-Kirk. "Dan sticks to his
school of boxing these days, pretty closely. I
often drop in for a round or two with him. He's
as clever as ever, but he's slowing up."
Tobin shook his white head sadly.
"Tut, tut, tut," said he. "And do you tell me
that! Faith, he's a young man yet—not much
over sixty—and what call have he to be takin' on
the ways and manners of age? Even as late as
the last year of the Coffin Club he was as swift
as the light."
"He frequently spoke of that club to me," ob-
served the other. "A queer place, I understand."
Tobin nodded.
"Queer enough," he answered, "and the
members was as queer in some ways. Nothing
would do them, but they must spend their time
underground, sitting at tables shaped like coffins,
and drinking their liquor out of mugs shaped
like skulls. I was steward there a long time, and
got good pay; but I never approved of the no-
tion. It always seemed like divilment to me, did
that."
"Some very well known people frequented it,
did they not?"
"Many's the time I've seen the governor of the
state himself, sitting there with a mug in his fist.
The liquors was of the best, do you see," with a
pleased light in his eyes. "I know that, for it


2'6o
ASHTON-KIRK
were meself that selected them. And a good sup
of drink is a great attraction, so it is."
"I don't think that can be successfully denied,"
admitted the investigator. "Some very brilliant
men have proved it to their sorrow."
"True for ye," said Tobin. " Don't I know it?
We had actors and writers and editors—the cream
of their professions—and every one of them a
devotee, so to speak, of Bacchus. Sure, the finer
the intellect, the greater the sup of drink appeals
to them, if it does at all. One of the greatest
frequenters of the club was a man whose inven-
tions ," with a grandiloquent gesture, "revolu-
tionized the industries of the world. And when
he was mellow with it, boys o' boys, but he could
discourse! His name was Morris," added the
speaker, "and he was the father of the young man
whose name has been mixed up with this Hume
affair which is so occupying the public mind just
now."
"Indeed."
There was a pause: Tobin's mobile face looked
back upon the past; his eyes had an introspective
light in them.
"To think," said he, "how the natures of men
differ. Some are like the gods of old, and others
again are like—well, like anything you choose to
call them. And yet," with philosophic specula-
tion, "these two widely diversified types are some-


262 ASHTON-KIRK
blood run cold. And bless us and save us, gen-
tlemen, how he would jeer and snarl and laugh
all at the one time. Many's the time I've listened
to poor Morris rave and paint his pictures of
what he was going to do in times to come; and
on the other side of the coffin-table, Hume would
urge him on, leerin' and grinnin' like Satan him-
self, and making all manner of game of him.
Bedad, me gorge rose at it more than once, and
it was all I could do to keep from takin' him by
the scruff of the neck and throwin' him intil the
street."
"Almost every man has some spark of good in
his nature, however faint," said Ashton-Kirk.
"And Hume may have had one, too, though no
one seems to have discovered it."
Tobin smiled and returned:
"An Irishman always has a good deal of re-
spect for the fighting strain, no matter if it be in
a man, or a beast, or a bird. Old Nick himself
must be a grand, two-handed man, and as such
we must give him credit. And 'twas the same
way with this felly Hume. He had real fighting
blood, so he had; and sorra the man ever under-
took to impose on him the second time."
"And as a true Celt, you held this to be a
credit mark," laughed Ashton-Kirk.
"I did. And, indeed, he seemed to consider it
so himself, though he was not one to care a snap


264
ASHTON-KIRK
that the supposed ancestor were a great felly for
dress, and expected the like of all the men under
him; and though he often had niver a crust of
bread to put into their mouths, he always man-
aged to have a pinch of white powder for them to
dress their hair."
Ashton-Kirk laughed suddenly, and leaned
back in his chair. The gleam died out of his eyes,
and a twinkle of satisfaction replaced it.
"That," said he, "sounds amusing enough to
be true. Mr. Hume's ancestor was at least con-
sistent. But," and his tone changed, "we must
not keep you from your duties, Mr. Tobin, and
so we'll get to the matter in hand."
"If it is not hurrying you," agreed Tobin.
"A while ago," spoke Ashton-Kirk, "you men-
tioned young Allan Morris; and during your con-
versation you have led me to think that you were
his father's friend."
"I were," said Tobin. "He were a decent
man."
"Then perhaps your friendship extends to the
son as well."
"Perhaps it does," and a note of perceptible
caution crept into Tobin's voice.
"I am glad to hear it," said the investigator.
"He seems badly in need of friends of the right
sort just now; and I am confident, Mr. Tobin,
that you are of that sort."


INVESTIGATOR 265
"A man who has disappeared as completely as
this one has done," stated Tobin, "is out of the
reach of even the best of friends."
"Have you not heard from him since the mur-
der?"
"No," replied the other with a readiness that
carried conviction.
"Then you will, and before long." Ashton-
Kirk arose and stood looking into the old man's
face. "Perhaps it will be to-night; but it will be
by to-morrow night at latest. And when you do
you can best show your friendship for him by tell-
ing him not to be a fool."
"You mean," said Tobin, shrewdly, "that I'm
to advise him to give over hiding?"
"Exactly."
"I'll do that willingly enough, if I hear of
him. An innocent man has no call to hide him-
self like a rat. But," inquiringly, "after I tell
him that, what will I do?"
Ashton-Kirk took out a card; handing it to the
other, he said:
"Ask him to come see me."
Tobin gave the card one glance, then his face
lit up and his hand went out.
"Let me shake your hand, sir," said he. "And
I'll tell the lad what you say with a heart and a
half."


INVESTIGATOR 267
"I know there is," was the quiet reply. "To-
night, old chap, has been most prolific in results.
It has indicated why the murder was done; it has
suggested the identity of the actual murderer; it
has even pointed out the spot upon which we shall
finally take him."
"You really mean all that?" cried Pendleton,
incredulously.
"I do."
"Then you must have learned it at some time
while I was not—" here Pendleton paused, and
then proceeded in another tone. "But you have
not been out of my sight since dinner. Every-
thing you have heard, I have heard; all that you
have seen, I have seen."
"Just so," said Ashton-Kirk.
There was a pause; they walked along toward
the place where they were to get a street car. At
length Pendleton spoke once more.
"And from the rather bald reports of your
two assistants, and the talk of this man, Tobin,
you have gathered these most vital facts?"
"We can hardly call them facts as yet," said
the other; "but I have every confidence that we
can do so within the time specified."
A gong sounded sharply and a car crossed the
street. Pendleton placed his hand upon his
friend's shoulder.
"Kirk," said he, "I am not going to ask an-


268 ASHTON-KIRK
other question. I'm just going to wait, and if it
turns out as you say, I'll never question a state-
ment of yours as long as I live. I'll swallow
them all as the Mussulman swallows the Koran."
They boarded the car and Ashton-Kirk settled
himself in a corner. His arms were folded across
his chest, his head gradually sank forward. To
all appearances he was asleep; but Pendleton
knew that he was merely turning over some plan
of action that would, in a little time, begin to
reveal itself.
However, he was not prepared for such quick
action as resulted; for suddenly Ashton-Kirk
jumped up, glanced out at the car window, then
darted to the platform and leaped off. Pendle-
ton followed at once, and came up with him part
way down an intersecting street.
"Where to now?" he asked.
"City Hall," replied Ashton-Kirk, briefly.
It was nq great distance to the municipal build-
ings; they shot up in the elevator and entered the
police department.
"I'd like to see Superintendent Weagle," said
the investigator to the officer who came forward
to speak to them.
"He's just getting ready to go home," an-
swered the man, "but I'll see what I can do."
•The superintendent of police happened to be
in an obliging humor, and they were shown into


INVESTIGATOR 269
his office a few moments later. Weagle stood in
the middle of the floor, drawing on a light over-
coat; the end of a black cigar was clenched be-
tween his teeth.
"How are you?" greeted he. "Anything
doing in my line?"
"Not just yet," replied Ashton-Kirk, "but I
have some hopes."
The official laughed.
"We all have them," said he. "If we didn't
we might as well put up the shutters." He threw
the cigar end away and wiped his stubby mous-
tache with a large handkerchief. "You've come
for something," said he. "What is it? My wife
and kiddies are expecting me, and I must get
home."
"How long are you going to maintain the po-
lice guard at 478 Christie Place?" inquired the
investigator.
"I hadn't thought of it," replied the superin-
tendent. "However, we are in the habit of keep-
ing such details up for some little time. Another
thing, there is a lot of valuable stuff there which
must be looked after."
"Beginning with to-morrow night," said Ash-
ton-Kirk, "I want you to withdraw your men.
And further, I want your permission for my
friend Mr. Pendleton and myself to watch in
their place."


27o ASHTON-KIRK
The official opened his eyes at this.
"Well," said he, after a moment's silence, "I
don't just understand your reasons; and the thing
is most unusual. But," and he nodded his head
approvingly, "I've always noticed that you have
reasons behind everything you do, and if this
thing is expected to throw any further light on
the Hume case, why, it shall be as you say."
"Thank you," said Ashton-Kirk. "Unless I
am much mistaken it will close the matter finally
as far as your department is concerned, and put
the whole thing up to the District Attorney."
"You mean," said the superintendent with in-
terest, "that you've got something new on Spa-
tola—and perhaps on Morris and the girl!"
"I mean," answered Ashton-Kirk, " that I hope
to place the murderers of the numismatist Hume
in your hands in a few days—whoever they may
be."
Weagle waved his hand.
"That's all we want," said he with a laugh.
"Give us the right ones and we'll make no com-
plaint. And now, if you have nothing more to
say, I'll say good-night."
They parted with the superintendent in the cor-
ridor; then Ashton-Kirk led the way into a room
where some police officials and a number of young
men were lounging about.


272 ASHTON-KIRK
police called off at Hume's? and why should we
place ourselves on watch instead?"
"At the very first we made up our minds that
the men who murdered Hume were in search of
something, didn't we? Up to this time I have
been unable to say whether they had succeeded or
not. Now, however, I am convinced that they
failed."
"Ah!"
'' To-morrow the newspapers will announce
that Hume's place is to be no longer guarded. It
may be that the criminals are desperate enough
to venture another visit in order to gain posses-
sion of the thing they covet. If they do, we shall
be awaiting them."
"But how do you know that they failed of their
object on the night of the murder?"
"You and I," said Ashton-Kirk, laughingly,
"are perhaps going to spend considerable time
in Christie Place, beginning with to-morrow
evening. And while there we may find it dull
enough, old boy; a little amusement of a practi-
cal sort might not be found out of place. So I'll
not answer your question now; I'll allow it to
stand until to-morrow night; and then I'll give it
to you, compact and complete, with practical il-
lustrations as I go along."


274 ASHTON-KIRK
The newspaper men pulled wry faces.
"The police hang onto the Italian musician
and profess to think he's the guilty party," said
one. "If they have taken any steps beyond this,
before to-day, we have not known of it."
"Why have the detectives been placed to watch
Miss Vale's house?" asked the other. "And
what has Osborne gone in to talk about?"
"Ah," said Ashton-Kirk, with interest, "Os-
borne is within, is he?"
"Yes; and why are you going in? What has
been learned regarding Miss Vale's connection
with the case that has not already been made
public?"
"I would hardly undertake to answer that last,"
laughed Ashton-Kirk. "So much has been made
public in one way and another that I haven't been
able to keep track of it all. My own visit is
merely a friendly call. Why Mr. Osborne is here
I, of course, cannot say."
Leaving the newspaper men disappointed and
dissatisfied, the investigator rang the bell and was
admitted. In the hall, pulling on his gloves, was
Osborne.
"Hello!" exclaimed the latter. "So you
thought you'd have a try, too, eh?"
The big man's tone showed that he was none
too well pleased with his own visit; he jerked at
his gloves viciously, and his brow was creased


INVESTIGATOR 275
with vexation. And seeing that the other was
disposed to do nothing more than nod, he went
on:
"Well, you'll have to have a lot better luck
than I've had, to have any at all. Miss Vale, it
seems-, is a young lady who knows very well how
to say nothing. I've been here something like
an hour and have put her through a regular third
degree; but I've had my labor for my pains, as
the saying is. She has told me nothing except
her opinion of the newspapers and the police."
"Miss Vale will see you, sir," said the man
servant, returning.
"And so you've given it up?" queried the in-
vestigator of Osborne.
The big headquarters man shrugged his shoul-
ders.
"Hardly," said he. "I've set a time on the
thing. We scarcely like to go to extremes, as you
perhaps know; but unless a clean breast of the
matter is made, as far as the party knows," modi-
fying his language because of the listening servant,
"the same party will know what the inside of a
cell is like by this time to-morrow."
"You really mean to make an arrest?"
"If we are forced to—yes."
Ashton-Kirk followed him to the door:
"Extend the time limit," suggested he.
"Make it the day after to-morrow, and," elevat-


276
ASHTON-KIRK
ing his brows, "I don't think that you'll need to
do anything unpleasant."
"Ah," said Osborne, "you're onto something!"
He regarded the other questioningly for a mo-
ment, then broke into a grin. "No use to ask
what it is, I suppose? I thought not. Well,"
reflectively, and in a lowered tone, "it won't do
any harm to oblige you, if the front office is will-
ing. The party can't make a move that we won't
know about; and the fact is, I've just advised that
no going out of any kind be ventured on. So
long, and good luck."
The door closed behind Osborne, and then Ash-
ton-Kirk followed the soft-footed servant down
the hall, up the stairs and into the presence of
Edyth Vale.
The girl received him smilingly.
"I'm getting to be a regular occurrence," said
he, as he sat down.
"But a welcome one, nevertheless," she re-
turned. "Indeed, if it were not for certain other
depressing circumstances, I'd find your visits dread-
fully exciting."
"I suppose Osborne is one of the circumstances
referred to. I just met him in the hall, and he
seemed to be quite in a state of mind. What
have you been saying to him?—or rather," smil-
ing, "what have you not been saying to him?"
"He came on what he calls 'police business,'"


INVESTIGATOR 277
smiled Miss Vale. "I considered it quite an
alarming expression, and said so; but that made
no impression on him, for he proceeded with a
string of wonderfully conceived questions that
must have covered my life from birth to the pres-
ent time."
"The police have about the same method for
each case—a sort of bullying insistence that breaks
down denial by sheer weight."
"I have read of it, frequently, in complaining
articles in both magazines and newspapers. I
think I have even seen it very earnestly compared
to the Inquisition." The smile was still upon the
girl's lip, but as she continued, her voice shook a
little. "However, I never thought to go through
even a part of it myself."
■"What the police say may be embarrassing
and mortifying," said Ashton-Kirk gravely, "but
it is nothing at all, compared with what they
might do."
Miss Vale drew in her breath in a little gasp of
terror; but she made an effort to conceal it with
a laugh.
"I know what, you mean," she said, lightly.
"You think that they might go so far as to take
me into custody as an accessory to the crime, or
even as the actual criminal."
*' Mr. Osborne told me that such was their in-
tention, if you do not explain clearly your connec-


28o ASHTON-KIRK
"There are several. If you venture out you
will be followed wherever you go."
The girl sank into a chair in a limp, rumpled
sort of way; somehow the idea of surveillance
affected her more than anything else. Her face
became ashen; her hands shook distressfully as
she clasped them tightly together.
"When you allowed the fears and desires of
Allan Morris to cloud your reason, you made a
mistake. You admitted as much when you came
to me after the murder; but instantly, upon seeing
him again, you were as before. He was struck
with fear, and he communicated his terror to you;
as before you dreaded to trust anyone—even my-
self."
"I think you are inclined to take a great deal
for granted," said Miss Vale. But in spite of
the words, her eyes were wide with alarm.
"He told you of the deaf-mute, Locke," said
Ashton-Kirke; "and also other things, which
seem to have induced you to visit Locke at the
Institute near Cordova on the night before last."
Miss Vale elevated her brows in surprise; her
attitude was one of wonderment.
"I don't think I understand."
"And you did not seem to understand yester-
day when I called upon you. You fancied that I
was not sure that I had seen you, and had come
expecting you to admit the visit to Locke. And as


INVESTIGATOR 283
said; "and I really cannot say, Mr. Ashton-
Kirk, that I altogether follow you."
He smiled, but the disapproving wrinkle still
showed between his eyes.
"I see that you are still determined to hold to
your attitude," he said. "I am sorry, of course,
but then one is called upon at times to do as one
thinks best, and I suppose that is what you are
doing." He turned toward the door, and she
arose and touched the bell. "Good-by."
"Good-by," she returned."
He stood for a moment in the doorway regard-
ing her with mingled annoyance and admiration.
As he caught the steps of the approaching servant
in the hall, he said:
"Possibly I can save you some little trouble.
You need not call at the Rangnow Apartments.
Up to last night, Allan Morris had not notified
Mr. Tobin as to his new hiding-place. How-
ever, if you feel that you must see him, you can
call at my place at this hour on the day after
to-morrow. I am not sure, of course, but it oc-
curs to me that he will be there."


INVESTIGATOR 285
be a bad day for news, and they have plenty of
space. At any rate, anyone who is at all inter-
ested in the fact, is now aware that after six
o'clock this evening, 478 Christie Place will be
unguarded, except for the regular patrolman. Of
course," with a glance at Pendleton and another
in a mirror at himself, "if a brace of rough-
looking characters are hidden away within, there
will only be a few who know it."
He opened a drawer and took out two black
shining objects; the short barrels and blocky
shapes told Pendleton that they were automatic
revolvers.
"They will throw ten slugs as thick as your
little finger while you're winking your eye as many
times," said Ashton-Kirk.
They each slipped one of the squat, formidable
weapons into a hip pocket; then they made their
way out at the rear of the house. With the col-
lars of their sack coats turned up and their long
visored cloth caps pulled down, they hurried
along among the dull-eyed throngs that bartered
and quarreled and sought their own advantage.
And when, in the uncertain dusk, a wagon drew
up at 478 and two sack-coated, cloth-capped men
began carrying parcels up the stairs, is it any
wonder that Berg, watching from the window of
his delicatessen store, said to his clerk:
"Dot furrier that rents der rooms by der third


286
ASHTON-KIRK
floor is putting some more things in storage over
the summer, yet."
And when the wagon finally drove away, neg-
lectfully leaving the two men behind, it is not sur-
prising that the fancy grocer did not notice it.
And, then, when the two policemen who had been
on duty during the afternoon, came out, carelessly
left the door unlocked, looked up to make sure
that they had left none of the windows open, and
then strode away with a satisfied air that follows
a duty well done, who so keenly watched as to
suspect?
The shadows on the second floor lengthened
and grew grayer; they thickened in the corners;
pieces of furniture grew vague and monstrous as
the darkness began to cling to them and their
outlines became lost; suits of armor loomed men-
acingly out of the gloom, the last rays of light
striking palely upon helm or gorget; hideous gods
of wood and stone smiled evilly at the two
watchers.
"There was food in the bundles which we car-
ried up, then," commented Pendleton, as he lay
back on the old claw-footed sofa.
"Yes," answered his friend. "The person or
persons whom we expect will hardly come to-
night, though we, of course, don't know; if they
fail to appear we shall be forced to stick close to
these rooms during the whole of to-morrow and


INVESTIGATOR 287
also to-morrow night. Perhaps it will even be
longer."
"In that case," said Pendleton, a little discon-
solately, "the eatables will be very welcome. But
I hope we won't have to stay long enough to finish
them."
"Perhaps," said Ashton-Kirk, "I've let you in
for too hard a task in this, Pen?"
The other rose up instantly.
"You couldn't give me too much to do in this
matter," declared he, earnestly. "I would do it
alone if you were not here, and I had brains
enough, Kirk. The thing must end. If it goes
on much longer and I keep seeing those infernal
insinuations in the papers, I'll go completely off
my chump."
There was a little silence; then Ashton-Kirk
said:
"I never knew that you were—ah—this way,
old chap, until the other day. How long has it
been going on?"
"Why, for years, I think," answered Pendle-
ton. "Being very distantly related, Edyth and I
saw quite a deal of each other when she was a
slip of a girl. And she was a stunner, Kirk, even
then. Kid-like, 1 fancied I'd get it all over with
when the proper time came; but somehow I never
got around to it. She turned out to be a dickens
of a strong character, you see; and she expected


INVESTIGATOR 289
to prostrate yourself before your idol; and when
a man takes to that, he always gets to thinking
meanly of himself. The attitude has much to do
with the state of mind, I imagine. Miss Vale is
a courageous, capable girl; but you can never tell
what sort of a man a woman will select for a hus-
band. Girls have fancies upon the subject, and
give voice to them sometimes; but it is the man
they choose and not the one they picture to whom
you must give your attention."
"I suppose that is true enough," said Pen-
dleton.
"Miss Vale's evident strength awed you," went
on the other. "And then your timidity began to
magnify her qualities. No woman is what she
seems to be to the man who loves her. Miss Vale
is not so difficult to please as you thought. I fancy
that her engagement to young Morris proves
that."
"There you have it," cried Pendleton. "That's
it. Kirk! I've stood aside, considering myself un-
worthy, and allowed a fellow to slip by me who
is as colorless as water. Allan Morris is no more
fit to be her husband than—" at loss for a simile
he halted for a moment, and then burst out:
"Oh, he's impossible!"
"So far as we have tested him, certainly,"
agreed Ashton-Kirk, "he has shown no great
strength of character."


290
ASHTON-KIRK
"He's acted like a frightened child all through
this affair. He's mixed up in it, and through his
weakness allowed Edyth to also entangle herself.
Again and again he's run to her, or called to her,
to tell her of some fresh complication that he'd
gotten his frightened self into; and to protect
him, she has dared and done what would have
frightened an ordinary woman into fits."
"I think," observed Ashton-Kirk, "that she
has realized his position, to some extent, at least.
The fact that he is weak has, I think, dawned
upon her already; she may also see his evident sel-
fishness before long. If she does—why, might
there not still be some hope for you, Pen?"
Pendleton shook his head in the gloom.
"I'm afraid not," said he, hopelessly. "Some-
how a weak man makes a great appeal to the
woman who has grown to care for him. He
arouses her mother instinct. And Edyth is so
strong that her pity"
"May induce her to do her utmost to see him
through this trouble," interrupted Ashton-Kirk.
"But it may not carry her much further. When
once the thing is over, a reaction may set in. Who
knows?"
But Pendleton refused to be comforted. For
a long time they talked of Edyth Vale, Morris,
and the killing of Hume. Finally Pendleton
said:


INVESTIGATOR 291
"I suppose we can't smoke here to-night, can
we?"
"No; the lights might be seen; and we can't
tell what sharp eyes are watching the place."
Pendleton sighed drearily.
There were many clocks in the rooms; the po-
licemen must have amused themselves by winding
and setting them; for at the end of each hour they
began to strike, singly and in pairs. The brisk
strokes of the nervous little modern clock min-
gled with the solemn sonorous beat of an old
New England timepiece whose wooden works
creaked and labored complainingly. Elaborate
Swiss chimes pealed from others; through the
darkness, a persistent cuckoo could be heard
throwing open a small shutter and stridently an-
nouncing his version of the time.
It was some time after midnight that Pendleton
began to yawn. Then Ashton-Kirk said:
"Open some of those blankets, Pen, and lie
down. There is no need of two of us watching
to-night; I scarcely expect anything to happen."
Pendleton did not expect anything, either, but
he said:
"All right, I will, if you'll wake me in a few
hours and let me take a turn at it."
Ashton-Kirk agreed. Pendleton stretched him-
self upon the sofa, and soon his deep breathing
told that he was asleep. As the night drew on,


ASHTON-KIRK
the solitary watcher grew chilled in the unheated
rooms and huddled himself into another blanket;
but he sat neait the door leading to the hall, which
was slightly ajar; and though his eyes closed
sometimes in weariness, he never lost a sound in
the street or a tick of one of the clocks. Through
the entire night he watched and waited almost
without moving; it was not until the dawn of a
gray, dirty day began to somewhat lighten the
room that he aroused Pendleton. The latter ex-
postulated sleepily when he noted the time; but
with scarcely a word the investigator took his
place upon the sofa and dropped off to sleep.
About nine o'clock he awoke and found his
friend arranging their breakfast upon a small
table.
"I say, Kirk," said Pendleton, admiringly,
"you did this thing rather thoroughly. There's
quite a tasty little snack here; and the thermos
bottles have kept the coffee steaming."
At the water tap in the rear the investigator
bathed his hands and face; then he sat down with
his friend and did complete justice to the break-
fast. Afterwards, with their cigars going nicely
and a feeling of comfort stealing over them in
spite of the rather uncomfortable night, Pendle-
ton said:
"You promised the other night to tell me what
made you think that the murderers had failed to


INVESTIGATOR 293
secure the thing they sought. The words that the
promise was couched in made me think that you
had also something to show me, and as we could
not light up last night, I've waited patiently until
to-day. Now you must ease my curiosity. Come,
tell me a few things."
Ashton-Kirk took his cigar from his mouth.
"I told you," said he, "that the reports of
Burgess and Fuller, together with the conversa-
tion we had with Tobin, had enlightened me upon
these points." As he enumerated them, he
checked them off with his fingers:
"Why the murder was done.
"The identity of the confederate of Locke.
"That the, man would return to the scene of the
crime."
"Yes," said Pendleton, "those, I think, were
the points."
"The first two," went on the investigator, "I
will allow to stand for a while. But I promised
to illustrate for you, and I think I can do so."
Ashton-Kirk here arose and passed through the
storeroom and kitchen into the bedroom.
"The writing upon the step in the hall," said
he, facing his friend, "directed Locke's confed-
erate to look for something behind Wayne's por-
trait. As all the pictures of Wayne in the place
were broken or otherwise showed traces of rough
handling, it seemed that the thing desired must


294 ASHTON-KIRK
have been found. However, I was not sure about
that, as; I have told you.
"If you will recall Tobin's remarks of the other
night, you will note that the only thing he could
admire in the man's character was his fighting
spirit. Then it developed that Hume made a
boast of having come by this naturally enough.
He claimed descent from one of Washington's
officers. Tobin could not recall the officer's name;
but he related an anecdote of him that was un-
mistakable. The officer was General Wayne!"
'* By George!" cried Pendleton.'
"The collection of Wayne portraits was in this
way explained. It was also suggested to me that
Hume might be an assumed name—that the nu-
mismatist might have once been known as Wayne,
and that Locke had known him by that name. Of
course, it's quite likely that he was not really a
descendant of Wayne. But he probably called
himself Wayne nevertheless.
"I see," said Pendleton, his hands waving with
excitement. "And in the stress of the moment,
Locke wrote the name 'Wayne ' upon the step in
candle grease, forgetting that his confederate
only knew their proposed victim as Hume." His
eyes rested upon the walls and upon the sneering,
unpleasant portrait of the murdered man. "He
meant that the thing he desired was there," indi-


INVESTIGATOR 295
eating the portrait with an exultant sweep of the
arm. "And by George, it must be there still."
He sprang forward with the evident intention
of wrenching the picture from the wall; but Ash-
ton-Kirk restrained him.
"Don't," said he. "We'll leave that for our
expected visitor."
"Surely," protested the excited Pendleton,
"you don't propose to leave the thing there!
Think of the risk! You might lose, it in the end;
for, you know, one never foresees what is to turn
up."
"A fisherman must always risk losing his lure,"
answered the investigator composedly.
They spent the long hours of the day in smok-
ing and talking; and at intervals they ate the
sandwiches and other things which had been smug-
gled in in the guise of packages of furs. And
finally the shadows gathered and thickened once
again in Christie Place.


INVESTIGATOR 297
, ing in fear at the sounds. Eleven o'clock struck,
and then twelve with its continued uproar. It
seemed a long time before one and then two
sounded. Pendleton's limbs were beginning to
feel loggy and numb because of the chill and the
continued inaction. He had ventured to stir
them a little, and was wrapping the heavy blanket
more closely about himself, when he felt Ashton-
Kirk's hand upon his shoulder.
"Hush-h-h!" said the investigator in a
whisper.
Instantly Pendleton was motionless; he listened
intently, but the silence of the place seemed com-
plete.
"What is it?" he finally ventured to breathe.
The hand upon his shoulder tightened warn-
ingly; but there came no other reply. Again Pen-
dleton listened. The door of the showroom stood
open; Ashton-Kirk had placed it so in order that
they might catch any sound that came from the
hall. All the other doors leading into the hall
from Hume's apartments were securely locked;
anyone who ventured into the suite must first pass
through the showroom where the two waited and
watched.
After a space Pendleton's attention was re-
warded; a faint, far-off rustling came to him;
somehow it gave him the impression of hesita-.
tion, non-assurance, timidity; he was speculating


300 ASHTON-KIRK
sound of his own. He pictured her leaning
against the locked door, her heart throbbing with
fear as she listened to the descending footsteps;
stronger and stronger grew his desire to leap up
and assure her that friends were at hand. But
at the same time the warning grip of his compan-
ion, who seemed to feel what was in his mind,
also grew stronger and stronger.
With the closing of the door, the sounds from
the stairs had ceased to reach them. There was
a long pause; Pendleton, during this, grew sen-
sible of a long,'wavering mental antenna which he
projected into the shadows; and its delicate sensi-
tiveness told him of the silent approach of a fear-
ful thing. A long, long time, it seemed to him,
but in reality it was remarkably brief.
Then the steps were heard, shuffling and secret,
in the hall and very near at hand. A soft, un-
certain touch fell upon the smooth glass of the
door; down its length the inquiring fingers trav-
eled; then the handle was tried, held a moment
and quietly released.
The steps then receded lightly down the hall.
For some moments all was quiet, then there
came the scratch of a match from the hall, and
its accompanying flare, seen through the glass of
the door. A little space more, and a rending
sound came to their ears, followed by the falling
of some metallic objects upon the floor. Pendle-








INVESTIGATOR 301
ton required no explanation of these sounds; it
was plain that the second intruder had come pre-
pared and had forced one of the doors.
All the communicating doors of the suite had
been left open; through them came the pushing
about of furniture and the drawing down of
blinds; then another match flared, followed by a
stronger and steadier light, which showed that
the second visitor had lighted the gas. The light
filtered palely through the various rooms into the
one in which the two men and the woman were
hidden; by means of this the former could make
the latter out in a dim, uncertain sort of way.
She seemed unusually tall as she moved noise-
lessly across the floor and peered cautiously
through the communicating doorways.
What she saw must have startled her, for she
drew quickly back, her hand pressed to her heart.
Then softly she retraced her steps; they heard
the door-catch slip quietly back and were conscious
that the door was swung open; the woman then
crept inch by inch, so it seemed, down the hall.
It was the bedroom door that had been forced;
the two watchers noted the bar of light that
slanted from it across the passage. Nearer and
nearer the woman approached to it. Pendleton
had at first thought that she was making for the
stairs; but this died away as she passed them, un-
heeding. The automatic revolver was in his hand


3o4 ASHTON-KIRK
of the kind that would rather be off quietly, is it
not? and say no words to no one."
Edyth Vale, pale of face, but with steady eye,
returned his look.
"What are you going to do?" she asked.
"I am sorry to do anything," spoke the stran-
ger. "I do not know you, and you will onder-
stan', will you not, that I can't leave you behind
—to talk?"
As he spoke a flashing something appeared
from the girl's pocket; he lifted one huge paw to
beat her down; but a clenched hand, protected by
a corded buckskin glove, thudded against his jaw;
his knees weakened, and he sprawled upon the
floor.
"Jimmie!" gasped Edyth Vale. "Jimmie
Pendleton!"
"Oh, Edyth—Edyth!" was all the man could
say. He slipped his arm around her, for she was
tottering; and as he helped her to a chair, Ash-
ton-Kirk quietly entered at the hall door.
"Miss Vale," said he, "good-evening."
Without waiting to note if she even gave him a
look, he bent over the fallen man and snapped a
pair of handcuffs upon his wrists.
"A very pretty blow, Pen," said he, admir-
ingly. "Beautifully timed, and your judgment
of distance was excellent."
He slipped the fallen papers into his pocket


CHAPTER XXV
Approaching the Finish
Pendleton spent the night at Ashton-Kirk's; and
after breakfast he wandered into the library, a
newspaper in his hand and an inquiring look on
his face.
The investigator was seated in his usual big
chair, buried to the knees in newspapers, and
making vigorous inroads upon the Greek tobacco.
Fuller was just leaving the room as Pendleton
entered, and nodding toward the disappearing
form, Ashton-Kirk said:
"There is some rather interesting news. I have
had Locke, as you perhaps know, under obser-
vation for some time. Last night he took the
train at Cordova, and Burgess followed him.
When he reached the city, he went directly to
Christie Place and was seen lurking about in the
shadows."
"Humph," said Pendleton^ "what time was
this?"
"Perhaps about eleven o'clock. Burgess, so
Fuller tells me, never lost sight of him. He acted
in a queerly hesitating sort of way; finally, how-
306


308
ASHTON-KIRK
a few minutes later Burgess saw him leave the
house."
"Humph!" said Pendleton. Then after some
few moments spent in the examination of his
paper he threw it down. "It's full of all sorts
of allusions to monoplanes and such like," grum-
bled he. "As I had to take Edyth home last
night, and you went bravely away with the police
and Sagon, I find myself, as usual, trailing some
distance in the rear."
Ashton-Kirk regarded the litter of newspapers
ruefully:
"I gave them the heads of the case very
plainly," said he, "but as it was almost the hour
for going to press, I suppose they did not get the
finer points of my meaning. Some of them have
made a sad mess of it. However, the evening
papers will have a coherent account, I suppose."
"If you think I am going to wait until the
evening papers are issued to get to the bottom
of this thing, you're much mistaken," declared
Pendleton. "I demand a full and detailed ex-
planation immediately."
Here a tap came upon the door; Stumph en-
tered and handed Ashton-Kirk a card.
"Let him come up," said the latter; and, as
the man went out, he continued to Pendleton.
"We will both probably be much enlightened
now. It is Allan Morris."


3i« ASHTON-KIRK
"At an earlier time it would have meant but
a few weeks' application at most. But at this pe-
riod the thing was impossible. The last long de-
bauch seemed to have sapped his intellect; it also
was the direct cause of his death."
"I see," said Ashton-Kirk.
"I took the matter up with Hume at once,"
went on the young man. "But I had no more
success than my father. In the man's eyes, I had
but replaced my father; I was another patient sub-
ject for his mockery, derision and abuse.
"There were some scattered drawings of the
monoplane in father's office; I began a study of
these, thinking to chance upon the principal idea.
But I was unsuccessful.
"All this, you understand, was before I had
met Miss Vale, and before I was tangled up in
the trouble I have just mentioned.
"The fear began to grow on me that Hume
meant to use the plans to his own advantage; I
knew that he had long been familiar with Locke,
who was reputed to be a mechanical genius, and
between, them, I fancied they'd take action. I be-
gan a watch upon the reports of the Patent Office,
thinking that that would finally give me some-
thing tangible to use against them. However, I
never gave up my visits to Hume, or my efforts
to make him admit possession of my father's
property.
"It was during one of these visits that I first


INVESTIGATOR 315
force. I was so full of this resolution' that I could
not contain myself; I hinted at it to Miss Vale;
and the result of that hint, you know."
He leaned his face forward in his hands and
seemed to give way to a bitter train of thought.
He was evidently despondent.
"It was also some such hint upon your part
that induced her to visit Locke at Dr. Mercer's
place, wasn't it?"
Morris raised his head and nodded.
"Yes," he said. "After the murder I suspected
Locke at once of having something to do with
it. I told Miss Vale; she went there without my
knowledge—seeing that I had not the courage to
go myself," he added bitterly—" and demanded
the plans."
"And she learned that they were still at Hume's
—behind the portrait?"
"Yes. Locke told her—he was overcome with
horror at the murder. He had merely desired to
secure the plans,—having somehow learned their
hiding place. He had nq intention of killing
Hume."
"But why did Sagon do it ?—he must have had
it in mind when he bought the bayonet at Bern-
stine's," said Pendleton, looking at Ashton-Kirk.
"He had. Do you recall how Burgess' report
spoke of a league of smugglers in Europe of
which Hume was a leading spirit, and also of how


316
ASHTON-KIRK
they had been captured and nearly all but Hume
were tried and convicted."
"Yes."
"Sagon was one of those convicted. The dia-
monds which Hume tried to smuggle into this
country were to have been turned into money at
the time of the gang's arrest and the proceeds
spent in their defense. But instead of doing
this, Hume left his comrades to their fate and
absconded. When Sagon gained his freedom he
began a search for Hume, meaning to have re-
venge. This search finally led him to Locke as a
person who had known Hume, and who would be
likely to be able to tell where he could be found."
"Sagon has told you this? " queried Pendleton.
"Yes; he talked freely, after he saw that his
case was hopeless; and he, too, insisted that Locke
did not intend to commit murder. Locke, even ,at
the time of his meeting Sagon, was looking for
someone to aid him in gaining possession of the
Morris plans. The work-shop which we saw be-
side Locke's house contained a monoplane in
course of construction; but there was something
lacking which he felt Morris's plans could supply;
and so he was anxious to get hold of it by hook
or crook.
"Sagon, whose purpose from the first was
murder, was not at all averse to combining it with
something else. He took the room at Mrs.


INVESTIGATOR 317
I 1
Marx's place, after he had perceived that an en-
trance could probably be made at Hume's by way
of the scuttle. The well dressed 'business guys'
that the machinist on the first floor spoke about
to us, were no doubt Locke, who frequently called
upon Sagon, and Mr. Morris here, whom the
man did not suspect of being a lodger.
"To prove a theory that I had formed, and
which I have mentioned in a vague sort of way,"
went on Ashton-Kirk, "I asked Sagon why he
had used a bayonet. And it turned out as I had
thought. Sagon and Hume had first met at Bay-
onne; the greater part of their operations had
been carried on there; the band had been finally
rounded up and convicted there. The bayonet,
so legend has it, was first made in Bayonne, and
Sagon conceived that it would be a sort of poetic
justice if the traitor were to die by a weapon so
closely connected with the scene of his treachery."
There was a pause after this, and then young
Morris got up slowly and painfully.
"I don't want it to be thought," said he "that
I was directly responsible for Miss Vale's adven-
ture of last night—or for any of the others, for
the matter of that. If I had known at the time
that she proposed visiting Locke's, or Hume's,
either upon the night of the murder, or last night,
I would have prevented it."
Ashton-Kirk nodded kindly; the young man's


3i8 ASHTON-KIRK
position evidently appealed to him. But Pendle-
ton sat rather stiffly in his chair and his; expression
never changed.
"I will now come into possession of whatever
value there is in my father's invention," went on
Morris, "and added to that, it turns out that the
—the other thing, of which I stood so much in
fear, has turned out favorably. But," in a dis-
heartened sort of way, "I don't care much, now
that my engagement with Miss Vale is broken."
"Broken!" exclaimed Pendleton.
"I saw her this morning," said Morris. "Dur-
ing the past week," he continued, "it gradually
came to me that I was not the sort of man to
make her a fitting husband. I hid like a squirrel
while she faced the dangers that should have been
mine. I knew that she realized the situation as
well as I, and I did what I could by making it
easy for her."
He paused at the door.
"If there is anything that I can do, or say in the
final settlement of this case," he added, to Ashton-
Kirk, "I will gladly place myself at your services,
sir. Good-bye."


CHAPTER XXVI
The Finish
"For the first time," said Pendleton, as the door
closed upon Allan Morris, "I can feel sorry for
him. To lose a girl like Edyth Vale is indeed a
calamity. Think of the courage she's shown—
of what she was willing to do. Why, Kirk, she's
one in ten thousand."
But Ashton-Kirk only nodded; he had arisen
upon the departure of Morris, and was now
drawing on a pair of gloves. The splendid quali-
ties of Miss Vale apparently had little appeal for
him at that moment.
"Are you ready?" he asked, in a business-like
way.
"Ready? " repeated Pendleton, surprised.
"To be sure. We can scarcely call this case
complete until something has been done in the
matter of Locke."
"That's so. But, somehow, I had the notion
that your men had already attended to him.
"I always prefer to finish my work in my own
way," said the investigator. "Osborne, as soon
as he heard of Locke, through Sagon, wanted to
319


INVESTIGATOR 321
roof which stood some little distance up an inter-
secting road. It was the same house through the
window of which Pendleton had seen Edyth Vale
some nights previously, but, somehow, it seemed
strange and unfamiliar in daylight.
"I can see three sides of it from here," went
on Burgess. "And if he dropped Out of one of
the windows on the fourth side I could sight
him before he'd gone fifty yards. You may be
sure he's there, all right."
"You've heard of what took place last night,
I suppose?"
Burgess tapped a folded newspaper at his breast
pocket.
"So has Locke," said he. "Apparently his
orders are to furnish him with the papers as soon
as they arrive. A man from the Institute build-
ing brought one to him more than an hour ago."
Just then Ashton-Kirk noted far up the road
upon which Locke's house stood, a very small
buggy, drawn by an equally small horse. In
the buggy sat a man whose huge bulk seemed to
bulge out beyond its sides. Arriving before
Locke's house, the small horse stopped, as though
from habit. Then with a mighty effort, the fat
man rolled out and waddled to the gate. He
pressed and re-pressed the button; but no one
answered.
Ashton-Kirk looked at his assistant.


INVESTIGATOR
The principal's flesh quivered with repulsion.
"It is an exercise ordered by my physician,"
he answered. "I protested against it strongly,
but he was obdurate. And I am compelled to
do it before I have had my breakfast," hollowly.
"It is scarcely short of barbarous."
Here the small horse stretched its neck and
shook itself until the harness rattled. Pendleton
looking from master to beast thought they might
excnange places much to the master's ultimate
well-being.
There was a short pause; then Dr, Mercer
bent his head toward them.
"When you visited the institute a few nights
ago," said he, "you also, at my request, visited
Professor Locke."
Ash ton-Kirk nodded.
"For some time," proceeded the other, "I
have fancied that there Was something wrong
with him. Not of a physical nature, as is, un-
fortunately the case with myself, but more in a
mental way. But since that night I have been
sure that some sort of a derangement had fixed
itself upon him, or is in progress. He can
scarcely be called the same person. More than
once I have been afraid," and here the speaker
lowered his voice to a husky whisper, "that he
is unbalanced."
"That is very grave," said Ashton-Kirk.


326 ASHTON-KIRK
wise we might get Locke's attention before it is
advisable."
Pendleton jumped down, and without another
word to Dr. Mercer, they set off toward the slate-
roofed house by the roadside. However, after
they had gone about fifty yards, Pendleton turned
and looked back. He saw the small horse jogging
away, while behind it, helplessly fat and hope-
lessly befogged,- sat Dr. Mercer, swaying dis-
piritedly from side to side.
As Ashton-Kirk and Pendleton advanced upon
the house, they bore in mind the possibility of
Locke being on the watch; so they kept out of
sight as much as possible.
"It's rather odd, I think, that he hangs on here,
knowing that his part in the murder of Hume
must now be known," said Pendleton. "I rather
expected an attempt at escape."
"That may come later," said the investigator,
grimly. "The finish of a thing of this sort is al-
ways a matter for speculation. I have seen des-
perate criminals who surrendered like lambs; and
I've seen the other sort give a platoon of police a
good day's work in their taking."
"Do you think it possible that Locke is one
of this latter type?"
"There is no knowing. But I am inclined to
believe that he is."
Pendleton shook his head. It seemed impos-


INVESTIGATOR 327
sible that this dapper little man with his peering,
short-sighted eyes could be capable of any deter-
mined effort to escape the police when once
driven into a corner. However, Pendleton had
ample reason to respect Ashton-Kirk's judgment;
and so when the latter deemed it necessary to ap-
proach with caution, he acted accordingly.
They paused in front of the house.
It was now past ten o'clock and the sun was
shining brightly; a little patch of garden, filled
with early flowering plants lay between the house
and the wood; all about the work-shop were the
tall trees which they had noticed upon their pre-
vious visit.
"We had better not use the gate," suggested
the investigator. "There might be an attach-
ment of some sort that will give him warning."
So under cover of the trees they scaled the
fence; then they carefully made their way toward
the shop. The windows and door of this were
closed, nothing was stirring. Near the door was
scattered some rubbish and loose paper. The
place had an utterly deserted look.
"Do you think he is there?" asked Pendleton.
"I will know in a few moments," replied the
other. "Wait here."
Pendleton expected Ashton-Kirk to continue his
cautious approach. But to his surprise the inves-
tigator with cool assurance stepped out from be-


INVESTIGATOR
Then in heavy characters he scrawled upon the
back of one of the blue-prints.
"I was expecting a visitor, and fancied that it
might be you."
This he held up so that the investigator might
read it. Ashton-Kirk nodded. Again the back
of a plan came into service and this time the in-
vestigator read.
"What has occurred is most unfortunate. I
had no hand in it, though, of course, I do not ex-
pect anyone to believe me."
Here Ashton-Kirk drew a note book from his
pocket and was about to write, but the other
stopped him with a gesture. Then the man once
more wrote: carefully, heavily, in order that the
other might have no difficulty in reading it from
the distance.
"Pardon me! But it is not necessary for you
to go to any trouble. Moreover—I beg of you
not to think me rude—your opinions in the matter
have no interest for me."
Ashton-Kirk acknowledged this with a grave
nod. The pencil was instantly at work again.
"As I have said, I expected a visitor; but I
will now add that I did not expect to be here to
receive him."
Ashton-Kirk looked swiftly into Locke's face
as he read this; the expression was unmistakable,
and the investigator leaped to his feet. But the


ASHTON-KIRK
mute uttered a strange parrot-like cry—evidently
the same that Edyth heard that night in Christie
Place—and Ashton-Kirk saw his hand go swiftly
to a button at one side of the work-bench. In-
stantly the investigator paused; once more a ges-
ture bade him be seated.
Slowly he obeyed; and once more Locke began
to trace bold characters upon the stiff paper. This
message read:
"You are a wise man. I had arranged every-
thing before you came in, and had sat down to
make an end of it. This button at my hand once
started an electric apparatus; but now it is con-
nected with a quantity of an explosive—my own
invention, and a terrible one. Believe me, one
touch and everything in this building is in frag-
ments."
Ashton-Kirk, when he had finished reading,
nodded quietly. Again the mute began to write.
"I have no ill will toward you," the words ran,
"you have two minutes to leave here, and get
safely away."
When he saw that this had been read, Locke
threw down the paper and took out his watch.
Then he pointed toward the door and sat waiting.
It was strange to see the little man sitting
there calmly, with only the pressure of a finger
between him and eternity. But Ashton-Kirk
knew stern resolution too well to mistake the look


332
ASHTON-KIRK
"I spoke to Spatola about that," answered
Ashton-Kirk. "He said it was Morris who left
first and whom Hume pursued by jeers through
the open window. Morris had, according to his
resolve, called at the place to demand the plans;
but Hume was mad with liquor and was even
worse in his manner than usual. Unable to bear
it, Morris had rushed out. Spatola later made
his way out by way of the scuttle and across the
roof, as he frequently did.
"The thing which Spatola had carried under
his coat that night was a diploma which he had
received from a musical conservatory in Rome.
It was in a frame and so made considerable bulk.
Hume had denied that afternoon that Spatola
had ever studied in this particular conservatory;
frantic with rage, but knowing that he was a fool
for doing it, the Italian had brought his diploma
as proof.
"Morris, under the name of Crawford, occu-
pied a room on the floor below Spatola; and as
soon as the musician entered through the scuttle,
he descended the stairs and went immediately to
his friend's room to console and encourage him.
"Some time passed, and while they were still
talking they heard a step upon the stairs leading
to the attic. As no one lived there but himself,
Spatola looked and in the semi-darkness saw two
men descending. He called and asked who they


334
ASHTON-KIRK
not in the showroom during or after the murder.
And yet it should have been he who dropped the
little particle from the railroad ticket upon the
desk."
"It would seem that way," admitted Ashton-
Kirk, "but the fact is that Sagon visited Locke at
the Institute and rode to the city with him that
afternoon. The particle may be accounted for in
that way."
"Yes," mused the other, "that's so. But, one
thing more. I should have asked this of Morris
himself if he had not been in such a confoundedly
miserable way. Why did he take to hiding im-
mediately after the murder?"
"He spent the night in his lodgings at Christie
Place; next day the papers told him that he was
suspected. He knew that if he appeared he'd be
arrested; and as he desired to recover the plans
before the murderers escaped with them, he felt
that this would be fatal to his chances. Of course,
I am not sure of this; but I think it more than
likely."
"Speaking of taking chances on the plans,"
said Pendleton, "you were willing enough to take
pretty long ones on them last night. Why, Sagon
actually had them, in his hands."
Ashton-Kirk drew a flat packet from his pocket.
Opening it he showed that it contained nothing
but blank paper.


INVESTIGATOR 335
"This is what Sagon found behind the por-
trait," said he, with a smile. "The real papers
I was very careful to remove two days ago. One
moment—that's the telephone."
Pendleton sat rolling a cigarette and wonder-
ing, while Ashton-Kirk took down the receiver.
"Well?" said he. Then in a moment his ex-
pression changed. "Oh, is it you? Well, how
are you after your exciting experience?"
Here Pendleton dropped the completed cigar-
ette and listened.
"You may consider yourself very fortunate to
escape with a slight headache," said Ashton-Kirk.
Then there was a pause, and he said, apparently
in answer to a question: "Oh, yes, he's with me
now. Will you speak with him?"
Pendleton arose and took a step toward the
stand. But he halted as if shot when his friend
continued in the transmitter:
"No?" Pause. "Oh, very well. Good-by."
Ashton-Kirk hung up the receiver and turned
to his friend.
"So," said Pendleton, in a queer sort of voice,
"she doesn't wish to speak to me."
"Not over the wire—no. But she wants you
to come to her—at once. She desires to hear all
about what she calls the wonderful way we have
handled this case, and she wants to hear it—from
you." Ashton-Kirk looked at his watch. "It is


336 ASHTON-KIRK
now 10:45. You can get there by eleven if you
rush."
"Do you call doing that little distance in fifteen
minutes rushing?" The young man's face was
radiant and he was making for the door as he
spoke. "If I don't do it in half that time, I'm a
duffer."
Then the door slapped behind him, and Ash-
ton-Kirk heard him bounding down the stairs.
THE END