|||||| n THE PATHWAY OF ADVENTURE THE BORZOI MYSTERY STORIES “These “mystery ’ books are about the best of their kind in circulation.” • II. III. IV. Wi. Wii. Wiii. IX. the the THE ... the The the — Knickerbocker Press. White ROOK By J. B. Harris-Burland SoLITARY House By E. R. Punshon SHADOW OF MALREWARD By J. B. Harris-Burland MIDDLE TeMPLe MURDER By J. S. Fletcher TALLEYRAND MAXIM By J. S. Fletcher PATHWAY OF ADVENTURE By Ross Tyrell PARADISE MYSTERY By J. S. Fletcher WHISPERING DeAD By Alfred Ganachilly [In Preparation] DEAD MEN'S MONEY . The By J. S. Fletcher ChestermARKe instiNCT By J. S. Fletcher THE PATHWAY OF ADVENTURE By ROSS TYRRELL | © NEW YORK ALFRED - A - KNOPF * * 1920 COPYRIGHT, 1920, BY ALFRED A. KNOPF, Inc. I THE r-<-' v-^K 1 PUBLi:..;;nARY 016064 ASTOR, LENOX AND T1LD.E.N FOUNDATIONS R 1920 L PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA CHAPTER CONTENTS ALONG THE LAKE SHORE A VENTURESOME RESOLUTION FAITH BECOMEs KNowLEDGE DRAwN ON BY FATE LIFTING THE WEIL WITHIN THE HARTIGAN House IN PRESENCE OF THE LADY THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT THE END of A BLIND ALLEY FACING ANOTHER TRAGEDY 83 PARK Grove Avenue A STRANGE COINCIDENCE PLANNING A MAN-HUNT TRAPPED THE FIGHT FOR LIFE BACK FROM THE DEAD WAYNE ConCEIVES AN IDEA FACING BAT HooDIGAN THE ENTRANCE of DoRA ON THE FIRE-ESCAPE THE GIRL's CHOICE THE CHOICE MADE PAGE 18 II III IV WI WII VIII IX XI XII XIII XIV XV XVI XVII XVIII XIX XX XXI XXII :f 41 52 62 72 83 94 105 116 127 137 147 158 169 179 190 201 210 222 231 CONTENTS CHAPTER PAGE XXIII On the Roof 241 XXIV With Dora Hooligan 251 XXV Dora Tells Her Story 261 XXVI The Dark op the Annex 271 XXVII Again Found 282 XXVIII The Last Struggle 292 XXIX The Coming op Rescue 302 THE PATHWAY OF ADVENTURE CHAPTER I ALONG THE LAKE SHORE Stuart "Wayne had taken a day from work in which to celebrate his good fortune. The early mail that morn- ing had brought to his bachelor-apartments in the Cres- senden Building a very substantial check—the first royalty returns on his new book—accompanied by an exceedingly pleasant letter written by his publishers in New York, stating that the work was enjoying an excel- lent sale. As this was the first time he had succeeded in achieving any popular demand Wayne felt entitled to a brief vacation. However, his methods were naturally quiet ones. He had not resided in Chicago for any great length of time, scarcely long enough to become habituated to the city, or to form a wide circle of acquaintances. Indeed, outside of certain professional friendships, and a few old-time chums, encountered by chance at the University Club, he scarcely felt that he really knew any one. He had worked hard, supporting himself by the writing of special newspaper and magazine articles, and there- fore found little time in which to cultivate the social side of life. To be sure, he had come to the city armed with several letters of introduction, of a kind to open numer- ous desirable doors, but thus far these had never been 7 8 THE PATHWAY OF ADVENTURE presented and, as the busy months passed, he had felt less and less desire to present them. His work fascinated him and now, finally on the thresh- old of success, he was quite content to remain alone, his thoughts busied with reawakened ambition. Hence his present quiet celebration was entirely in accordance with the occasion. He had lunched with Bob Carlton at the University. Bob was a good fellow, sympathetic and jolly; it had been a pleasure to talk over his plans, and voice his ambitions, with one possessing such practical business views, such an optimistic conception of life. Their con- versation left him with a firmer grip on himself, and a clearer view of the future. But Carlton had important business engagements, pre- venting long lingering at table. After his departure, Wayne wandered rather aimlessly about the rooms, seek- ing vainly some other acquaintance, until at last, lured by the resplendent beauty of the out-of-doors, he took a Cottage Grove Avenue open car, and journeyed south- ward. By three o 'clock, still alone, and with thoughts already beginning to concentrate upon a new plot, he reclined quite contentedly upon a bench in Jackson Park, gazing forth upon the wide expanse of Lake Michigan, prac- tically oblivious to all that was going on about him. A fresh breeze was blowing from the north, heavy enough to send the swell of waves dashing against the breakwater in white wreaths of spray, and to crown the more distant crests with lines of creamy foam. Against the far horizon two steamers were visible, both north- bound, black volumes of smoke pouring from their stacks, outlined in fantastic figures against the deep-blue of the ALONG THE LAKE SHORE 9 sky; while closer in toward the shore a number of small yachts were speeding about like white-winged birds. There were a few fishermen on the pier, the park itself was bright with picnic-parties, while from a distance the noisy enthusiasm of an amateur ball-game rendered the air vocal. A continuous stream of humanity poured up and down the high stone steps leading to the doors of the German Restaurant, while along the broad drive- way skirting the shore, passed and repassed a continu- ous procession of motors. Only the long cement walk appeared partially deserted, avoided by pedestrians be- cause of the strong wind, and the occasional bursts of spray drenching its surface. For some time he sat there, contrasting the different types that passed him by, but finally becoming restless he rose abruptly and whistled sharply to the driver of a passing cab. The equipage ground to a stop, and its pilot, with amazing dexterity considering the crowded boulevard, had the cab beside Wayne in less than half a minute. The author stepped in. "Where to?" the driver demanded. "Just drive," Wayne told him, "I'm out for air and plenty of it." The other nodded, the gears clattered, and slowly along the blue water-front the cab began to move north- ward. Lolling back on the cushions, Wayne enjoyed it thoroughly; the sight of young girls, fresh-skinned and supple, driving their own machines; elderly business men bound for the links, tourist parties wearing out-of- date clothes and with northern Michigan stamped on their faces clattering by in wheezy cars; soldiers and sailors walking with their sweethearts near the spray- lashed quay. 10 THE PATHWAY OP ADVENTURE Not a vehicle that passed or its occupants escaped the professional momentary scrutiny in which he had trained himself and which had become an almost unconscious habit. He had been riding for perhaps ten minutes when he became aware of another taxicab, a somber black one with mud on its wheel-guards, drawing abreast of his own. Presently it was alongside, and Wayne, turn- ing professional eyes on its occupants, was immediately startled by the contrast between them. In a flash he saw that the man was unusually swarthy of complexion, with coal-black hair and brows that over- hung deepset, crafty eyes. More startling still was the long, fierce mustache standing rapier-like above the thick, sensuous mouth, from one side of which, extend- ing half-way across the thin cheek, was a jagged scar. "Military-looking brigand," was Wayne's mental judgment. "Either Italian or Mexican." The cab drew a little ahead now, and he could obtain a better view of the other occupant—a girl of not more than twenty, of fresh and surprising attractiveness. Her figure, though slender, was full and rounded and su- perbly set off by a trim-fitting suit. The perfect oval of her face, shaded by a small turban, was framed by thin-spun hair as golden as the sun itself, and in his momentary examination Wayne judged that her eyes were gray. The contrast between the two was so amazing that his speculation as to what interests they had in common was obvious. Neither spoke to the other, and he noticed that the girl sat as far away as possible from her companion. Apparently they had no immediate mission, for the ALONG THE LAKE SHORE 11 cab, guided by a nondescript chauffeur, was traveling as slowly and as aimlessly as his own, and Wayne guessed that they, like himself, were "out for air." He was about to dismiss them from his mind and turn away when, with a mild start, he realized that his eyes were looking full and directly into those of the girl. For just an instant were they thus, and in that instant Wayne caught a flash of communication. A woman would have called it intuition; a mystic, second sight; a newspaperman a "hunch." But the message was undeniable, and it was a message of personal appeal. And now that his interest was aroused, the other cab, perversely enough, began to draw away. Instinctively, as it advanced, Wayne looked for its license-number, but the plate was so covered with mud that the numerals were not to be distinguished. Oh, well, it did not matter, and as the distance between the two cars lengthened Wayne found his interest waning. "Too much imagination," he thought, laughing to himself. Upon sober reflection it did seem a bit too romantic to suppose that an unknown girl, to all appearances well- to-do and perfectly able to take care of herself, should he signaling to him for any reason whatever. Doubt- less her sinister-looking companion was an Italian officer honorably discharged for wounds and on a visit to Chi- cago, and the girl, if not actually married to him, then related by marriage. So, with this casual explanation Wayne managed to dismiss from his mind everything about the pair except that the girl's face was one to fascinate. The next time he looked ahead the other cab was nowhere to be seen. 12 THE PATHWAY OF ADVENTURE The afternoon was beginning to ebb, and Wayne, real- izing that he must attend to some matters at his apart- ments before dinner-time, gave an order to the driver and in another moment found himself again headed south. Now the car appeared to be giving trouble, even at this slow pace, for occasional sputtering noises came from beneath the hood. "She isn't behaving well, is she?" Wayne ventured. "Naw," sourly replied the chauffeur, "it's the gas. More 'n half water and one-fourth kerosene. It takes a good Lizzie to keep goin' on it." "Well, stick it out. I haven't far to travel." The author laughed as he settled back on the cushions again. The car, after a few minutes, seemed to perform more ably and gathered speed. One by one the blocks slid by until again the German Building loomed up ahead. Wayne was about to order the driver to turn west, in which direction his apartments lay, when suddenly, not forty feet ahead of him, as if dropped there from the Heavens themselves, appeared the other car with the golden-haired girl and her swarthy companion. All his dormant interest and speculation were aroused anew and he laughed amusedly. "Coincidence," he said to himself. "If I had wanted to trace that car I couldn't have done it in a million years.'' From his point of vantage he scrutinized the two ahead of him, so turned that their profiles were visible. Cer- tainly the girl was attractive, and equally as certainly was the man repellent. Wayne did not know why, but instinctively he mistrusted him. They were evidently exchanging short opinions now, and he saw that the girl AXONG THE LAKE SHORE 13 was still seated as far away as possible from the military- looking fellow. Suddenly, as though conscious of Wayne's scrutiny, she turned her face and looked back, and again after the first start of surprise in her eyes Wayne caught the vague message of appeal. Only this time it was more definite and the glance was longer. For perhaps five seconds their eyes held each other, and then the girl abruptly turned away. Wayne's heart beat faster. Was he after all on the trail of an incident that might later be worked into a novel? Undeniably the girl had faced him deliberately, and undeniably, too, there had been purpose in her act. At any rate, the monotony of the summer afternoon was being broken and it would do no harm to keep her in view. The cabs still preserved the same distance between them, but in another moment Wayne's began to sputter and dropped back until the intervening space amounted to nearly a hundred feet. The girl ahead now seemed to become suddenly animated, and with one hand fre- quently called her companion's attention to various points of interest to the right. With a thrill Wayne realized that her free arm was stealthily attempting to fall outside the tonneau without arousing the swarthy man's attention. Inch by inch it made its way, and when at last it was free Wayne saw clutched guardedly in the small, well- shaped hand a small leather note-book. Now he knew! The girl was attempting to communi- cate with him! His "hunch" had been correct! What her aim was did not matter just then. And as his eyes were glued to the girl's clenched hand he saw 14 THE PATHWAY OF ADVENTURE the fingers quickly relax and drop the note-book in th< very path of his car. His face hot with excitement, Wayne leaned forward "Stop here, just a moment," he commanded. Obediently, the cab drew up to the curb. It was bu a matter of a moment to get out, pick up the note-bool and climb into the cab again: "Stay fifty feet behind that cab ahead; the black one with the mud all over it," he commanded as he agaii took his seat on the cushions. Then as the car startec in motion again Wayne took up examination of the note book. It was a tiny enough thing, one such as a womai carries in her hand-bag to jot down everything from i club woman's telephone number to the latest recipes foi tomato-soup. Its binding was plain morocco withou distinguishing marks. With nervous fingers Wayn< thumbed the pages, looking up now and then to mak( certain that the cab did not get out of range. Thumbing the pages the more undecided he became for apparently every page in the book was blank. Hac the girl merely been making a fool of him? Had sh< thought him a bumptious young upstart with an ey< to flirtations and thrown the note-book away for no othei reason than to take a fall out of his conceit and have th( laugh on him? Yet he could not bring himself to believe that and painstakingly, he began at the front of the book anc carefully went over each leaf. Toward the back he came upon two pages that had been folded over. "Maybe—" he began, and eagerly flattened them out He stopped short and his fingers tightened on the page. There was a message! ALONG THE LAKE SHORE 15 Bending closer he examined the writing. It was in a girlish hand, apparently written in haste and with the stub of a pencil. From the first sentence to the last it gripped his interest as indeed it would have gripped the interest of any man with a streak of imagination, for this was what Wayne read: TO THE GENTLEMAN WHO MAY BEAD THIS: I do not know the date, but I have been in this house for three weeks. I do not even know where the house is, only that it is somewhere in Chicago, and on a street called "Cal- vert." It is, or, rather, was painted brown, and stands on a lot by itself, surrounded by a picket-fence in bad repair. It is a large, square, wooden house, two stories and a base- ment. I am held here a prisoner by two men and a woman. There may be others, as I have heard strange voices speak, but I have seen only these three. Two of them brought me here from Mexico, and I think their object is to rob me of a fortune left by my father. I am not yet of age, and do not wholly understand. I write this appealing to you for help. To-morrow, I am told, I shall be taken out for a motor-ride, and my only hope is that I may then be able to place this note in the hands of some person who will re- spond. May God guide me. Do not notify the police, as that would be useless. If you will come to the third window of the annex at midnight, I can tell you what to do; but dare not explain here. I pray this may fall into the hands of a brave man. Pleadingly, Z. G. Again and again he ran through it, hut yet he could not decide its purport. On its face the note was sincere enough—truth and earnestness seemed to pop out of every line—but scribbled notes dropped by bewitching young ladies from sinister black taxicabs were things for the movies, not for real life. Yet here in an unromantic city apparently, romance 16 THE PATHWAY OF ADVENTURE was afoot or else he was being made a fearful chump of. At any rate, it would do no harm to follow the thing, at least temporarily, for the mere adventure of it; and still undecided as to whether to take the note seriously or not, he snapped the book shut, putting it carefully in his waistcoat-pocket. Then he looked ahead. The girl's cab was increasing its speed, and as he watched it he saw her turn guardedly again and throw him an inquiring glance. He knew what she was asking, and nodded his head affirmatively to show her he had received the note. Leaning ahead, he spoke to the driver: "Can't you get more speed? They're drawing away from us." "It's that blamed gas!" the other replied. "I'll do my best." The cab ahead was hitting up a fair clip now, close to thirty, and Wayne's vehicle, through the driver's heroic efforts, managed to stay a rod or two behind. It was the author's idea to follow the cab to its destination, wait his opportunity, and scrape from the license-plate its cargo of mud and learn the number, after which it would be an easy matter to trace the owner. This plan he was destined never to carry out, for the engine began to sputter again, back-fired, snorted, and finally hit on only two cylinders. Excited and disgusted, Wayne saw the girl's cab sliding away along the ribbon of the boulevard while he fell behind, unable to help himself. In a moment he had made his decision. "Here! Take this," he yelled to the driver, tossing him a five-dollar bill as the car came to a stop. "You don't deserve it, though!" "I'm sorry, boss—" the chauffeur began, but his words ALONG THE LAKE SHORE 17 fell on the empty air, for Wayne had fled and was al- ready hopping aboard another taxi. "South!" he commanded his new driver, "and fast!" The taxi leaped ahead, regardless of the crowded traffic. Through the 'windows Wayne peered anxiously for a sight of the fugitive car. To stand tiptoe on the thresh- old of adventure and then have the door slammed in one's face was irritating, to say the least, and he cajoled the driver to do his best. One block, two blocks, three, six, ten. And still no trace. Wayne reasoned that going at the rate they were they would have passed the car—unless it had turned ■west. It would be useless to continue patrolling the boule- vards in that case, and disgust, chagrin, and disappoint- ment mingled into one blue murk, he ordered the car north again. At Sixtieth Street he directed it westward, along which course it proceeded until it came to the quiet curb of the Cressenden, where it stopped and let out one of the most out-of-sorts young authors in all the American writing fraternity. CHAPTER II A VENTURESOME RESOLUTION After letting himself into his apartments in the Cres- senden, Wayne immediately set about recasting the plot of an unsold short story. Ordinarily, when he had a task to do, the author could empty his mind of the day's odds and ends and apply it entirely to the matter at hand, but to-night he found this virtue missing; try as he did to straighten out plot, incident, and climax by the light of his writing-lamp, he failed miserably because thoughts of the girl and the day's strange occurrence came leaping into his mind like bold, unbidden guests. Finally, too irritated to continue, he gave it up, and drawing from his pocket the morocco note-book, opened it, spread it out on the table, and for the tenth time reread the girl's message of appeal. Then pushing the book aside he lay back in the chair, stretched out his legs and looked fixedly at the ceiling, his mind a chaos of speculation. There were at least three possible explanations for the sending of the note. First, since the girl was young, she might have been frivolous and vulgar enough to stoop to a silly boulevard flirtation; second, she might have been mildly demented and suffering from the de- lusion that she was being held captive—one of those numerous individuals upon whom Wayne had chanced often in his newspaper career; and, lastly, she might 18 A VENTURESOME RESOLUTION 19 have been exactly what the note indicated she was—a perfectly normal young woman gripped in the clutch oi circumstance and actually in need of help in extricat- ing herseli from an unpleasant and possibly dangerous situation. Judicially "Wayne began to consider each possibility. Mter some reflection he decided that the affair could not have been a common flirtation; in her glances there had been nothing of boldness, nothing of the coquette, nothing of guile, only a mute appeal; and as he recalled the youthful dignity and character of her face she did not fit into any such vulgar picture. Pursuing the second supposition, he was by no means as certain. Girls and men to all appearances as sane as the sanest frequently labored under mild delusions, and from, memory he called several instances that corrob- orated this reasoning. The girl might be one of these. In case she were, it would account for the presence of the dark-looking companion, who might be either phy- sician or guardian. And yet, as he reviewed her deliberate actions and remembered the clear gray of her eyes and the poise that he saw there, he was as loath to classify her among the insane as he was to condemn her as a flirt. To the last premise he devoted more time and thought. Assuming that the girl was a normal young woman in distress, why had she not seized her opportunity and leaped from the cab instead of trusting to such a melo- dramatic effect as a hastily scribbled note which, falling into the hands of an utter stranger, might have failed signally in its mission? And what was her relationship to the dark-skinned man? On second thought it was absurd to suppose that 20 THE PATHWAY OF ADVENTURE a girl, patently both well-bred and intellectual, should choose for a companion such an atrocious fellow, marked as he was with the over-indulgences of life. His first half-theory that she might in some way be related to him was rejected. He must then be considered in the light of a guardian or, worse still, a crook. Immediately he thought of ab- duction and blackmail. For all he knew the girl might be rich, and held for one reason or another by this man. Perhaps in sending the note she had taken the only means at her command to inform others of her predicament. Perhaps she had been on her way to a hiding-place when the message was sent. Wayne recalled the stealthy deliberation by which she had managed to dispatch it, and this, among other minor considerations, decided him that the appeal was an honest one. The note itself, its general tone, its appearance of having been hurriedly written and its plea both direct and honest, yet freighted with mystery, corroborated his belief. "It must be on the level," he muttered as he rose and began pacing the floor. It had been written out of fear in heart. Of that he was certain. Further, she had taken a desperate chance in dropping it from the cab in the hope that it would fall into the hands of one who would both under- stand and be courageous. As to the man with the black mustache, Wayne, recalling the ferretlike, glittering eyes, the cruel mouth, the talonlike hands, felt that whatever his interest in the young woman was it would bring her no good. And strangely enough he felt a burning anger toward the fellow. A VENTURESOME RESOLUTION 21 But why had she signed herself "Z. G."? Why had she not given him at least her name as a clew to work on? That would have relieved the note of some of its melodrama. Not that he any longer doubted the sincerity of the message, for experience had taught him that even in the commonplaces of everyday life there is sometimes melo- drama of the most marked variety. Not a real working clew on which to proceed! Again he cursed the balky engine which, that afternoon, had destroyed his chances of following the girl's cab and find- ing out its license-number. With this one bit of evidence in hand he felt sure that he would have been able to proceed far enough within a few hours to determine whether the whole affair was one to be taken seriously or as some atrocious farce. He walked the room restlessly, the note lying open on his desk, his glance seeking it every time he turned. What should he do? What steps ought he to take? The answer was not an easy one. The young man was no adventurer; his life heretofore had been rather ordinary and commonplace, although his long newspaper training had brought with it self-reliance, and a knowl- edge that truth is often stranger than fiction. If he had not seen her, if he had not felt the charm of her presence and read the appeal in her eyes, he might even now have dismissed the whole matter with a cynical laugh. But under the circumstances this was impossible. She positively had called to him, and he felt that he would prove himself a cur if he failed to respond. But how? Should he go alone? Surely there would be no great risk assumed in merely searching for and A VENTURESOME RESOLUTION 23 sistance; but likely enough, the whole affair would prove to be a farce of some kind. If it did so develop he pre- ferred being the sole victim. Even as be turned this conception over in his mind his idle fingers bad, almost unconsciously, picked up a pencil and began sketching a face on a blank sheet of copy- paper. He stared now in surprise at the result, and then burst into a laugh—it was a rude, vivid outline of the girl's face, exactly as it clung tenaciously to his memory—the rounded throat and chin, the rebellious strands of blond hair, the wide-open, questioning eyes. The laugh ceased as he looked at the sketch; somehow the face pleaded with him, pictured an appeal. His eyes hardened into purpose, and his clenched hand struck the top of the desk. "I'll do it!" he exclaimed to himself in final decision. "What's the odds? There may be the genesis of a plot in this, if nothing more. "Let me see—Calvert Street; Calvert? I never knew there was any such place in the city. The best thing for me to do is dine at the club, and then ask the door- man. If he doesn't know he can look it up." The doorman had to look it up, confessing frankly that be had no recollection of the name; no more did the two or three chauffeurs within reach of the entrance; nor was it to be found later in the pages of the city directory. By this time, however, the doorman himself had be- come interested in the quest, and called up the telephone office for information. Thus it was learned that what had formerly been known as Odell Place had lately been rechristened Calvert Street—did he know where that was? The door-man did, and he proceeded graphi- cally to outline his knowledge to Wayne, 24 THE PATHWAY OF ADVENTURE "It's a way out southwest, sir," he explained. "I haven't been there for three or four years; an' can't say as I have any wish to go again." "Not a very respectable neighborhood, you mean?'* "Oh, it's respectable enough, so far as I know, but; almighty lonely. It wasn't never settled up much; the street ain't more than three or four blocks long—is it, Dan? "And I don't believe there's more than that number houses along it; all of 'em old places, gone to seed." His eyes grew reminiscent. "Why, come to think of it, one of 'em must have been, the old Hartigan house—you've heard about him, haven't you, Mr. Wayne ?'' The young man shook his head, but waited, anxious to learn all that he could regarding the neighborhood. "I thought maybe you did, as you was a newspaper- man," resumed the doorman, not averse to hearing his own voice. "Well, when I was a kid that was all open prairie out there, except for this Hartigan place. '' He was a big gambler in those days, and kept a string of race-horses. He trained 'em out there; had a private track, an' us boys used to hike out to see 'em run. "Hartigan was murdered there one night, an' then, not long after, his widow sold the place. I 'd plumb for- got all about that affair for years." "What sort of a looking house was it, Carney?" "Big, square, wooden house; must have had fourteen or fifteen rooms in it. We thought it was a whale in them days. Hartigan kept it painted white while he lived there, but it is more than twenty years since he died." "Who killed him?" A VENTURESOME RESOLUTION 25 "Nobody ever know'd; he was found one morning with a knife in his heart. A gamblers' row, I reckon." "Do you recall anything resembling an annex to this Hartigan place?" "Yes," and Carney scratched his head thoughtfully. "Come to think of it, I guess there was, a sort of kitchen ell, built on at the rear, with an upper story, where the help slept. It strikes me this was added on later, as Hartigan had to employ more people out there with his horses. Us boys never hung around there much after Hartigan was killed, for everybody said the place was haunted. "I never took much stock in that, Mr. Wayne, but nobody lived there for a long while, and it was almighty eery looking. The house sorter went to pieces, and the yard grew up into weeds. • "Then, a little later, a gang of counterfeiters made their headquarters out there. Finally the Secret Service got after them, and there was a dickens of a fight in the front room—same place that they found Hartigan's body —and a man or two got hurt. "Seems to me one of 'em died. After that you couldn't get a kid to go within a hundred yards of the house; and I don't know what's become of it." "Except that it still stands, out there on Calvert Street?" "Oh, it's probably there, all right. I saw it maybe three years ago, but don't think anybody was living in it then; the front windows was all boarded up. "There was an awful lot of shrubbery between the house and the street, pretty near as dense as a woods. Gosh, sir, I wouldn't live there for a fortune." "How do you get out to Calvert?" 26 THE PATHWAY OF ADVENTURE "You wouldn't want to take a taxi?" "No." "Well, then, the best way would be a Madison car, as far as Western Avenue, and then transfer south. Go till you come to Caspar, and then walk west three blocks. That will bring you to Calvert. "You are not liable to find any cement walks out there; and street lights ain't any too numerous. I'd take the trip in the daytime, if I was you." "All right, Carney; thanks. I rather think so my- self." Wayne ate his dinner slowly, seated alone at a small table. There were a few familiar faces in the room, but none that he felt any desire to companion with at that time. Strange as it may seem, Carney's description of the deserted Hartigan house, and its surroundings, only served to strengthen the younger man's resolution, and increase his faith in the truth of the girl's note. Every- thing appeared to coincide, and he no longer had doubt but what this old home of the murdered gambler was the place of her imprisonment. It seemed peculiarly adapted to the purpose. It was isolated, avoided, a house long associated in the public mind with crime—an ideal spot for concealment. Per- haps in the entire city no other place could be found wherein conspirators might hide with such assurance of safety, with such certainty of avoiding the observation of the police. He would in many ways prefer making his first visit by daylight, yet probably a trip there at night, under cover of darkness, would be the safer experiment. Then the girl had pledged herself to watch for him, 28 THE PATHWAY OF ADVENTURE The one next the aisle was apparently young, but built like a bull, his round head supported upon a short, thick neck, and his broad, heavy shoulders occupying at least two-thirds of the seat. Indeed, it had been the noticeable massiveness of the fellow which originally aroused interest; and it was not until his companion turned half-way around in an effort to peer out through the dark window that Wayne became suspicious of his identity. Then he recognized him instantly as the same swarthy individual who had accompanied the girl that afternoon in her ride through Jackson Park. CHAPTER III FAITH BECOMES KNOWLEDGE The fellow made no effort to glance behind him, ap- parently having no fear of being followed. He ex- changed a few words with his heavily built companion, and the latter flattened his nose against the glass of the window in an endeavor to see without. Some familiar landmark must have been perceived, for both men settled back in their seats, evidently satisfied that they were still some distance from their destination. Wayne had no reason to imagine that the Mexican— for such he now believed the swarthy stranger to be— had observed him in the park, or that there was the slightest danger of his recognition. Yet such a pos- sibility existed; the two strollers had passed his bench several times, and the man might, of course, retain a vague recollection of his features, enough to arouse sus- picion if they were again to encounter each other on this West Side ear. The safer plan surely would be to keep entirely out of sight. Deciding on this course the young man slipped quietly from his place, retreating to join the con- ductor in the rear vestibule. "Want to get off at Carlyle?" the latter asked, his hand on the bell-cord. "No; I'm new down this way, and came out to ask a question or two. How far are we from Caspar 1'' 29 SO THE PATHWAY OF ADVENTURE "Something over a quarter of a mile; want to get off there?" "The street this side; I've forgotten the name." "Johnston; but there ain't no houses anywhere about there—the nearest is two blocks south. I don't believe I've put off no passengers at Johnston fer six months. Where was yer aimin' ter go to, may I ask ?'' '' Calvert; my friend told me I 'd have no trouble if I walked straight down Johnston." "Well, maybe yer won't; but mostly them that go there get off at Caspar—it's nearer. Do yer see them two guys ahead, second seat from the front? That's where they get offl; they been ridin' with me now for about two weeks, pretty regular." "Do they live on Calvert?" "Sure thing. They come out on my car first time one afternoon, when they'd just got off the train, I guess, for they had quite a few grips along. There was four in the party—them two and a couple of women. "One of the females was about thirty-five, not such a bad-looker, and dressed to kill, sorter stout built. The other struck me as bein' a young girl, but she had a heavy veil on, and I couldn't see her face. I've seen her since, though." "You have? Does she ride with you often?" "No, she ain't never been with me since till to-day. It was my first trip this afternoon. She and that dark guy up there got on at Madison—hopped out of a taxi and into the car just as I pulled the cord. They'd been riding around down-town, I guess, but didn't have no bundles. '' She was a mighty pretty girl, let me tell you, a real blonde, not one of yer peroxid make-believes. FAITH BECOMES KNOWLEDGE 31 "Gosh! But she did sure stack up white an' clean alongside that foreigner. I don't know just what to make of them two; they didn't hardly speak to each other all the way out, and when they did it wasn't in any language ever I heard before." "Spanish, likely, or Italian; he looks like it." "Maybe it was; all I know is 'twa'n't neither German nor Swede.'' "And you say they got off at Caspar? What makes you think they live on Calvert ?'' "'Cause that big-necked guy came back and asked me some questions that first trip. That's what interested me mostly. He wanted to know where was the old Hartigan house—" "You mean Hartigan, the gambler? Did he used to live out this way ?'' "He certainly did—but that was a long time ago. He was killed out here—you remember that, don't you? No; well, maybe that happened before your time. I wasn't much more than a boy then myself. "There wasn't no streets, and no carline out here then; but the house is still standing, over on what they call Calvert now. Far as I know 'tain't been lived in much since, leastwise not since the police cleaned out 'Bed' Dugan's gang what made it headquarters; but I guess this outfit must be stopping there now, from what little I got out of them. I never got to talk none with that dark fellow, and the big guy don't say much. If you ask him any questions he shuts up like a clam." "Is the house furnished?" "Left just as it was when old Hartigan croaked, they tell me. Somebody said it was sold shortly after, but nobody ever took possession, so maybe the deal fell 32 THE PATHWAY OP ADVENTURE through. The widow moved down-town, but she didn't live more than a year. "They had one son, rather a wild one; a few years ago he was running a saloon dive somewhere in the Loop; then he got into trouble with the police and had to skip. That's the last I heard of him." "Then this younger Hartigan still owns the prop- erty?" "I guess so; he couldn't never sell it," cheerfully replied the conductor, evidently enjoying some one to talk with, "unless he unloaded it on a mortgage, and 'tain't likely any one would put up much on that kind of a deal. "There ain't no value to real estate in this neighbor- hood. I bought a lot out here six years ago, and, blame me, if I can even give it away. Johnston is the next street, if you aim to get off there.'' "All right; you needn't stop; I'm a railroad man— good night to you." A small incandescent glowed at the corner, lighting dimly a small fraction of the street. Wayne swung off easily, however, and watched the rattling car disappear into the darkness beyond. It was a gloomy spot enough in which he found him- self, realized from a single, swift glance about. He could scarcely believe it possible that he was still well within the city limits. A bare expanse of unoccupied prairie extending in every direction, without so much as the outline of a house visible, nothing, indeed, but a slightly darker shadow at his right, marking a line of scraggly trees along one side of the street. His best course appeared to be to follow the car-track, and he struck out in that direction, with eyes watchfully FAITH BECOMES KNOWLEDGE 33 fixed on the bobbing light of the car he had just left. It would stop at Caspar to discharge those two pas- sengers, and it was his plan to permit them to disappear toward Calvert without their suspicioning any other presence. This was why he had leaped from the step at Johnston Street without asking the conductor to pull the cord. He felt confident the action had been accom- plished without attracting any attention, and that he could now shadow the two with no great peril of dis- covery. Wayne had reason to feel that his chance conversation with the loquacious conductor had been a most fortunate one. He had learned much of value, and knew better how to proceed; moreover, he was strengthened in his determination. What he had been told not only served to corroborate the truth of the girl's letter, but had definitely narrowed his search to the old Hartigan house. Consequently his personal interest in the affair, as well as the solving of the mystery, was appreciably increased. He no longer had any intention of returning without learning more. His future actions were not to be based on mere idle curiosity, but would result in most careful investigation. Already he was convinced that he had invaded the atmosphere of crime, and that there rested upon him a distinct duty to perform. This knowledge left him more wary and cautious, for the affair promised to prove a far more serious matter than he had anticipated, and might require the exercise of qualities other than a mere reckless bravado. He sincerely regretted having ventured into such a neighborhood unarmed, and alone. Why, he had not even left a message behind, explaining his disappearance. 34 THE PATHWAY OF ADVENTURE If anything should happen to prevent his return no friend would have the faintest conception as to what had become of him—unless Carney might chance to re- call his questioning at the club. However, he would take no chances of that to-night. He determined to make no serious effort to communicate with the young woman; that would be too dangerous. She might think he had failed her; that her note of appeal had fallen into unworthy hands, but he could not help that. She would learn the truth about his efforts later, and be equally thankful. The thing for him to do now— the only reasonable, safe thing—was to locate the house positively, and gain some information as to its sur- roundings. He could accomplish this without any par- ticular peril; and then, to-morrow, he would get hold of Carlton, and they would decide together on the next step. No, not Carlton, he was too rattle-headed—Dan Stiles would be a far better man. for such a job. Wayne knew that he was connected in some way with the government's crime detection system, and this would be right in his line. Wayne wondered why he had not thought of Stiles before. These thoughts flashed through his mind disconnect- edly as he stumbled forward. The night was intensely black, the only lights being at the street intersections, where their feeble gleams were scarcely distinguishable. The only sound reaching him was the vanishing rattle of the street-car; the loneliness was intense and depressing. He distinguished the grinding of a brake as the car ap- proached Caspar, and waited motionless, staring through the gloom ahead. FAITH BECOMES KNOWLEDGE 35 In the dim blending of lights his eyes were barely able to make out the shapeless shadows of the two men as they descended the car-step and vanished into the surround- ing darkness. Then the bell tinkled twice, and the car sped on. Wayne waited where he was for a moment, breath- lessly listening, endeavoring to assure himself as to the exact direction the men had taken. He heard one of them swear in English, following a muffled blow, as though an incautious foot had in the gloom encountered some obstacle—then all was silence. Clearly enough the two had vanished up the unseen road to the right. Confident of this, Wayne moved over toward the bank, and began a cautious advance, keeping well hidden within its darker shadow. Except for the fact that a miserable incandescent sputtered at that point, emitting scarcely more radiance than a firefly, he never would have been aware of the presence of Caspar Street. There were no fences, and when by sense of feeling alone, he succeeded in locating the road, a few traces of wheels were so completely obscured by grass as to render following them a most difficult undertaking. It had to be done, however, and he made the effort. They led up a slight embankment, while beyond this the country ahead appeared open and flat. There were no lights to serve as guides, but he imagined that he saw a grove of trees, irregularly outlined against the slightly lighter sky. The two men must necessarily have gone this way, but were already so far in advance that no sound of their progress reached him. Their knowledge of the route, which they had traversed on other nights equally dark, enabled them to proceed rapidly. The solemn, eery silence caused 36 THE PATHWAY OF ADVENTURE Wayne's heart to beat fiercely, yet only led to the hesita- tion of a moment. He was too old in experience to be afraid of the dark, and now that he had ventured this far had no intention of retreating until he had learned more. He stood erect, and began advancing slowly, feeling his way through the darkness, seeking to trace the faint wheel-tracks, ven- turing only a step at a time. The short grass under foot was slightly wet, as though from a heavy fall of dew, and he advanced so slowly and silently as to hear his own breathing. No sound from those before reached his ears; they must be further ahead than he had supposed, yet he dared not quicken his pace. All about was so black and formless that he had by this time lost every sense of direction, and could only blindly follow the faint wagon-tracks. Yet each step served to define more clearly that ragged grove of trees to the left of the road. He became assured that it really was a patch of timber, could even trace its extent, and before he finally attained its black shadow, his searching eyes detected evidence of a rude fence. He was, however, compelled to turn aside to fully convince himself of this—feeling with his hand. It was a mere remnant, originally picket, but these had largely disappeared, the stouter frame-work alone re- maining, the supporting-posts sagging from rottenness. This reminder of better days bordered the road, while beyond it were a few well-grown trees, and a perfect tangle of underbrush. There was no evidence of any house, however, nor a gleam of light showing the near presence of a dwelling. The black, silent wood only rendered the surroundings more somber and desolate. He pressed on along the line FAITH BECOMES KNOWLEDGE 37 of fence, seeking some opening, some semblance of a path. Suddenly he stopped, clutching convulsively at the wooden rail beside him, and as instantly sinking low into the depth of shadow. There was some movement perceptible, although obscure and ill-defined, just in front. He heard a muttered oath, a swift motion, a half- smothered exclamation, and the dull thud of a blow, followed by what sounded like the fall of a body. There was an instant of intense silence, broken finally by a startled voice speaking in broken English. "Vat vas eet you do, Cowan? Who you heet—vat?" Some one laughed, a mere mumble between the teeth. "Darned if I know, Don," grumbled a deep voice doubtfully. "A feller stepped out of the gate yere right inter me. I reckon he never heered us comin'. I just nat'rally poked him one, an' it muster been a knockout, fer he sure dropped sudden.'' "He come by ze gate?" "Yep; in the shadder o' the post yere. I didn't ask no questions, but just whaled away. Got a match? Let's have a look at the cuss." "A match? No! Eet light up, an' be seen. Nevair! Vat ze man do here—hey? You zink he be alone ?'' "How do I know?" disgustedly. "Maybe if I saw his face I could tell. What's the use o' bein' so scared, Don? Nobody knows enything 'bout us. Let's have a look at the fellow." "Zat vas eet; nobody know; nobody best know. Vy you so sure nobody know—hey? Vat bring ze feller here in ze night? You anzer me zat. He come for ze valk? For ze night air? 38 THE PATHWAY OF ADVENTURE "Bah, 'tis not ze truth. Somewhere zar is ze leak. I like eet not at all—no! Vat you zay ve do?" "Why, lug the guy inside and have a look at him— we can't leave him lying here.'' "You t'ink maybe he dead?" The other rose up from his knees, a huge, shapeless figure. "Dead? Naw! It was just a knockout. I got him square on the chin, by luck, but hit him with my fist. "Come on, Don, and lay hold. I wanter glimpse the guy's looks. I know most o' the fly-cops in this town, an' what their graft is. When the feller comes to we'll give him the third degree." "Ze vat, you zay?" "Oh, a good turn-over; make him tell what brought him out here. I 'll know how to make the guy talk.'' "Vare ve take heem?" "Any place inside; what's the dif'? He can't get out until we say so, can he? In another day or two we make our getaway." "But," the other protested, "if ze man vas not alone? Vat zen? You vould reesk too much." "Eisk! We've got to risk. See here, Almerido, ain't I inter this yere job as deep as you be? Ain 't I? Don't I know the stake we're playin' fer? An' whut it's goin' ter mean if we git caught afore the time is up? Don't I? "Now listen—it's all right ter be cautious, just so long as you can be; but sometimes the other sorter thing pays best. We've been here a month under cover, layin' wires, an' gettin' ready. So far as we know nobody has suspicioned us, an' the police don't even know yet that FAITH BECOMES KNOWLEDGE 39 we are in this town. There ain't been nobody watchin' us—has there?" "Eet is vat you say—si," admitted the Mexican as this direct question was flung at him. "Not till zis man come, I haf no fear." "Exactly. Now we run into this guy snoopin' about in the dark. We don't know who he is; but it's a damn sight safer to hold him than to let him go. He'd talk now, wouldn't he, whatever his purpose was? Then we've got to shut him up. "I tell you, Don, the feller's here alone; if he'd had had a partner we'd 'a' heard from him afore this. How- ever, I 'll beat these bushes, if that 'll make you feel any easier; but the first thing for us to do is git this guy under cover, and as soon as his senses return, pump his story out o' him. "Once we know what brought him here, then we'll know what to do. That's good sense, ain't it?" The. other was silent, evidently impressed by the force of this argument, even if not wholly satisfied. "What in thunder did I ever tie up with such a white- livered cuss for?" the big fellow growled in undisguised disgust. "How did your kind ever think up a scheme like this enyhow? You've been scared half to death at every shadder since we struck this town." "Eet iss not my countree; I feel not et home here; I know not ze vays ov ze peoples," the Mexican apolo- gized. "Ef eet be Mexico I lead; I tell you zen vat to do. Eet is not zat I fear—no; but ze peril of meestake, of ze wrong step. Senor, I fight; 'tis often I fight; no one call Juan Almerido ze coward." "No, I reckon not; I heard all about you in El Paso. 40 THE PATHWAY OF ADVENTURE That's why I tied up with you on this job. Come on then; let's lug the fellow inside." "You zink maybe he be a detective?" "No, I don't. It is my hunch he is some nosy guy who has found out that some one is livin' in this house, and is just snoopin' round to see what's goin' on. He'd be a fine fly-cop to walk right into me like that. "Take hold, will you? If we keep on arguin' here this buck will come to, and likely start another row— that's it, pick up his legs." The two ill-defined figures faded entirely out of view, bearing their sagging burden, and Wayne could hear the diminishing sound of their feet shuffling along on what was apparently a cinder-path. As soon as he dared to venture he stole forward as far as the gate, and a mo- ment later had slipped within the enclosure. The path was easily located, but in advancing he chose to deaden his footsteps by walking on the short grass. The dense shadow of the tangled underbrush suddenly came to an end, revealing an open space beyond. Ordinarily this would have seemed dark enough, but now appeared almost light to his eyes accustomed to that deeper gloom through which he had been creeping. Stooping low to the earth he was able to perceive a faint outline of the house, and the shapeless figures of the two men bearing their burden toward it. CHAPTER IV DRAWN ON BY FATE If any doubt still lingered in Wayne's mind that he was upon the trail of a crime of some magnitude it van- ished as he crouched there in the deep shadow of those bushes, watching the two men approach that silent house with their unconscious burden. He had already heard enough, witnessed enough, to satisfy himself on this point. What the crime might be, its nature, and method of execution, remained unsolved; but that it was no common, ordinary affair was already sufficiently clear. Nor did he longer hesitate as to his duty. His thought leaped from point to point swiftly—the girl prisoner with her pitiful appeal for aid; her vague explanation that this was the result of a conspiracy to rob her of a fortune; the statement that she had been brought to this house from Mexico; the choosing of such a spot for concealment, this abandoned residence of the mur- dered Hartigan, reputed to be haunted, as headquarters for the gang; their secrecy and fear of the police; Cowan's unknowing acknowledgment that the desperate scheme had originated in the brain of the Mexican, and that he had first become connected with it at El Paso— all these things combined to yield him a fresh view-point, a new conception of its importance. 41 42 THE PATHWAY OF ADVENTURE Yet in no way did these f acts, even when woven to- gether, solve the mystery. Who was the young woman ¥ In what form was this property which these men plotted to secure? Was their scheme one of mere fraud, or did it contemplate even murder? What connecting link ex- isted between Chicago and far-off Mexico? Wayne rather prided himself on his swift judgment of men—his newspaper experience had given him an ac- curate insight into character, which in the past had seldom deceived him. He had seen these two, heard their voices, and now instinctively catalogued them. To his mind the Mexican was far the more danger- ous—a scheming, cold-blooded villain, treacherous and vindictive. The other—Cowan—was of a vastly differ- ent type, adventurous, and relying on brute strength; possessing, to be sure, a certain degree of low cunning, but with more faith in a blow than in words. It was probable that this fellow had been picked up by Almerido because of his intimate knowledge of Chi- cago, and his acquaintance with the police. Probably he was responsible for their selection of this house in which to conceal themselves. Of the two he would be far more likely to do the strong-arm work, if anything of that nature was contemplated. Wayne recalled the short, thick neck, the immense breadth of the man's shoulders, and the slight glimpse he had obtained in the car of the fellow's face. That he was very largely brute was sufficiently clear, while a strangely misshapen ear spoke eloquently of past ex- perience in the prize-ring. His fist blow must be a deadly one—no wonder the man he struck had gone down as though poleaxed. If he had landed right the chances were he would have DRAWN ON BY FATE 43 broken the fellow's neck; indeed it was not altogether impossible that he had. With these reflections the full seriousness of his own position came to Wayne with renewed force—he knew now something of what he was pitted against. Mani- festly it was to be no boys' play. Whatever these villains contemplated, it was of sufficient importance and danger to render them desperate and reckless in their methods. They might not have deliberately planned murder, yet they would have no great hesitancy in committing it, if necessary to achieve their ends, or to prevent detection. And he was there alone, unarmed, and had left behind no message as to where he had gone. His mysterious disappearance would leave scarcely a ripple. He knew he had been a fool to enter blindly on such a quest; it had been a mere quixotic attempt on his part to appear gallant and discover the truth or falsity of the girl's note. He had had no other object in mind; her memory had spurred him into action against his calmer judgment. He had thought only of her—of the appeal in her eyes— and given no heed to consequences. Indeed, until within the last half-hour, the affair had not appeared to him as a really serious one—as one in- volving any grave issues, or exposing him to any par- ticular peril. He had thought of the girl as probably coerced by relatives, who were, perhaps, endeavoring to force her into some action which she did not desire to take—a mere family affair. Quite possibly she had an entirely wrong view of the matter, and had become unduly excited and fearful. His one idea had been simply to go to her with words of 44 THE PATHWAY OF ADVENTURE comfort and advice; perhaps, if occasion warranted, even to offer his assistance in some way. Beyond this he possessed no purpose of interfering; and he had been influenced to take this step only be- cause of the peculiar interest she had aroused by her personal attraction. The earliest actual suspicion that he was becoming deeply involved in a really serious affair—in the solu- tion and baffling of a crime—came through his chance conversation with the loquacious street-car conductor, and his subsequent observation of these two men. Their appearance alone was sufficient to convince him, not only that they were capable of evil deeds, but also that they could have no possible family connections with the young woman whose frantic plea he had answered. Moreover, their effort at concealment, the conversation between them that he had overheard, were proofs positive that their purposes were illegal, undoubtedly criminal. Almost without warning he found himself plunged into the maelstrom of some strange crime, the deep mystery of which he must attempt to solve, or else deliberately desert to her fate this helpless girl, who, in desperation, had turned to him, an unknown stranger, for assistance. No thought of accepting this latter alternative once occurred to Wayne. Indeed, he was of a nature fasci- nated by danger, and inspired by such a demand upon courage. Even if he had never seen the girl her piteous appeal to his sense of chivalry would have led him to take action on her behalf; but he had seen her, had gained one glimpse into the depths of her eyes, and now that memory remained, fresh and inspiring, urging him for- ward with strange, compelling insistence. He was not a man easily impressed, and had generally DRAWN ON BY FATE 45 felt, hitherto, rather indifferent toward the opposite sex. He could not now define exactly what it was which had so swiftly attracted him in this instance—but, neverthe- less, he knew already that nothing in life would satisfy him as would a second meeting- with this girl, who had come so suddenly and unex-pectedly within his circle of existence. "Whoever she was, he must know her, serve her, prove to her the depth of his manhood. This was ordained of fate. From where he crouched at the edge of the under- brush he could not perceive clearly all that was taking place against the black shadow of the distant house. The burden the two men carried must have been a heavy one, for once they paused, leaving the man's body lying upon the ground. The Mexican, distinguishable even in that darkness because of his slender figure, remaining standing motion- less, until Cowan, rather roughly, again urged him to the task. The three disappeared entirely on attaining the front steps, seeming to vanish mysteriously in the gloom. Wayne, confident of being beyond observation, rose silently to his feet and bent forward in an effort to follow their movements, yet was unable to discern what had become of them. Surely they had not mounted the steps; nor had they rounded the corner of the house. He could not have failed to observe them in either case. The only explanation was a basement door, somewhere beneath the front entrance. If this was the truth, then it must have opened si- lently, and into utter darkness; for there had been no sound perceptible, no click of a lock, or creaking of DRAWN ON BY FATE 47 cupied, and had been in that condition for years. In a star-ray he looked at the face of his watch and waited. Surely those within would not now long remain in darkness; they would desire to examine the injured man and ascertain the meaning of his presence; and be- sides, Cowan had expressed a determination to explore the yard. But the minutes passed and nothing occurred—the windows exhibited no glow within; there was not the slightest sound of movement. This continued suspense was more than Wayne could bear. Better to make a mistake than lie there long in in- action. At least he would attempt to assure himself that the injured man had really been taken'within. A line of neglected currant bushes, scraggly and grow- ing into each other, furnished him with partial protec- tion, and within their shadows he crept forward on hands and knees. Not until he was close in, almost at reaching distance, did he begin to comprehend why there was an absence of light—the basement windows were boarded up tightly, and those of the first floor thoroughly protected by strong wooden shutters, all carefully closed. He could not determine the condition above, but from all appearances the entire house might be a blaze of light within, and yet from outside seem utterly deserted. However, these tightly closed shutters were equally a protection to his movements, and, indeed, even if some watcher chanced to be at an upper window, he was not likely to be detected in the shadow of the building. He hesitated whether to investigate the back or front of the house first. The girl's note had intimated that she was confined in the annex, but Wayne felt con- strained to determine definitely, before he sought com- DRAWN ON BY FATE 49 carious, but brought to him a feeling of dread such as he had seldom, felt. He could feel his flesh prickle, and hear the throb of his heart. For an instant his courage failed. Why should he attempt to learn more or advance further? After all, what was it to him that he should risk his lif e so uselessly? He experienced an eagerness to get away—to flee from this black, haunted house; in the silence and mys- tery all reckless daring seemed to ooze away, and his nerve failed. A species of pride alone held him there a moment longer, his fingers groping blindly for the lock. He found it at last, merely an ordinary knob, and even as his hand grasped it he realized with a shock that the door was not even closed, but stood slightly ajar. The surprise of this discovery startled Wayne into sudden mental reaction. Then, of course, there was no light within. Whether or not this basement door led to a room or a hallway it must be unoccupied, unused. Through some neglect or oversight the two men, bear- ing between them their heavy burden, had failed to close and secure this outer door as they passed. But they had not paused in that part of the house; they had gone on with the unconscious man into some distant apartment, where they could safely use a light. This was why no gleam had revealed their entrance; no light was permitted where it could by any possibility be ob- served from without. Then the room or hall directly within would be un- occupied, free for his exploration. Slowly, cautiously, 50 THE PATHWAY OF ADVENTURE he pressed the door open, staring into the dense black- ness beyond. The hinges made no noise; not the slight- est sound warned of lurking danger, or revealed any presence within. Scarcely venturing to draw breath, he crept silently through the narrow opening, closed partially the door behind him, and stood motionless in that intense black- ness. It was a narrow hallway in which he found himself, not exceeding six or seven feet in width, with plastered walls. The touch of his fingers revealed this fact, and also an opening at his left, a doorway enclosed, the vacancy beyond concealed in darkness. He advanced slowly, making not the slightest noise himself, and hearing no sound to create alarm. Once he paused, startled, his heart thumping; but it was only the distant gnawing of a rat, the intense silence render- ing it plainly audible. A moment later his cautiously groping foot touched the lower step of a stairway, and his hand determined its formation—rude wooden steps with a strong side rail leading up steeply to the floor above. He was tempted to creep up these and learn what might be at the top, but felt it safer first to explore more carefully the secrets of the basement. In this task, however, Wayne felt already more at ease, confident that he was alone; that these lower rooms were not in use. He discovered another opening to his right, op- posite the stairs, and felt about within, satisfying him- self that it was merely an ordinary cellar apartment, containing nothing except dirt and cobwebs. He had again returned to the hall when the brooding silence was suddenly broken by the sharp click of a DRAWN ON BY FATE 51 latch above; while almost at the same instant a gleam of yellow light streamed down the steps, illuminating the space between stairway and door. Like a ghost the startled intruder slipped back into the concealing shadows beneath the protection of the stairs, which creaked noisily under the weight of a heavy tread. CHAPTER V LIFTING THE VEIL The fellow descended slowly, as though somewhat doubtful of the strength of the stairs, while the shadow of his hand grasping the side rail was clearly outlined against the wall. The lamp flickered to his rather un- steady movements, but the radius of light widened, re- vealing the narrow hallway, and the plastered walls on either side. Wayne, completely cut off from any possible escape, huddled down into his black corner, scarcely venturing to breathe. The newcomer must have nearly attained the lower step, when a sudden gust of air extinguished the light and left him in utter darkness. An oath, unmistakably in Cowan's voice, expressed the measure of his disgust; then he struck a match, which flickered for an instant, and also puffed out, "What the deuce!" he ejaculated, completely losing his temper. "Well, if that cursed door ain't open! Hey, there, Almerido, bring a light here, will you? Of all the blame fools—you forgot to shut this door." There was the faint sound of movement above, a dim gleam of light, followed by an answering voice. "You call me? Vat iss eet?" "The door was left open when we brought that guy in, and my lamp has gone out. Can that laughin'! 52 54 THE PATHWAY OF ADVENTURE way out, or else be discovered there in the morning and fall helplessly into the hands of these men. What their mercy would be might easily be imagined. The true seriousness of his position was now apparent to him, and he realized how foolish had been his enter- ing the house at all. However, it was already too late for regret; nothing remained but an earnest effort to dis- cover some means of escape. The front of the house offered none, but possibly there might be revealed some weakness at the rear. He slowly felt his way along the side wall of the hall, unable to distinguish the slightest object, and fearful lest some accidental noise might betray his presence. The young man felt assured that thus far he was alone in the basement, yet, if some incautious movement dislodged anything, or even if his foot came in contact with a creaking board, it might very easily create an alarm above. Those fellows, hiding and conscious of criminal designs, would be suspicious of every sound and quick to investigate its cause. The hall extended straight back, and his hands feel- ing blindly through the darkness disclosed the presence of two more rooms, one on each side of the passage; but both doors were closed, and he made no effort to open them, convinced that if they possessed windows they would in all probability also be tightly secured. A few feet beyond these he was surprised to encounter a second stairway, which he judged must lead directly upward to the kitchen. Back of these arose the solid basement wall, proving conclusively that he had reached the end of his resources in that direction. Nothing remained for him but a venture to the second floor. Wayne came back to the foot of the steps, un- LIFTING THE VEIL 55 certain as to his next move, but endeavoring to bolster up his courage to the ascent. It was no pleasant prospect, yet apparently no other choice remained. He must either stay where he was and await an inevitable discovery, or else risk the un- known danger above. Of the two, action of any kind was preferable, and this rear stairway surely offered a better chance than the one at the front. If the two men still remained awake it was scarcely probable they would be found in the kitchen. 'At least it would be safe enough for him to creep up as far as the top of the stairs and listen. He did this, finding his progress finally barred by a closed door of ordinary flimsy construction and appar- ently secured only by a latch. No glimmer of light ap- peared through the cracks, nor did any sound of oc- cupancy emanate from the other side, as he listened in- tently with ear at the panel. Silently he lifted the iron latch and pressed the door partially open. It operated noiselessly, and the darkness beyond was as profound as that in which he crouched. Whatever the room might be it was evidently unoccupied, and Wayne, his courage reviving, glided through the narrow opening, and closed the door behind him. A moment's investigation revealed the fact that he had emerged into a large pantry, shelves lining the walls, with a sliding door opening into a commodious kitchen beyond. The shelves were mostly bare, with only a few odds and ends, largely in paper-bags stowed along one side. The nature of the contents of these bags he could not clearly determine, although there was flour and sugar, in addition to a loaf of bread and part of a 56 THE PATHWAY OF ADVENTURE ham—the few necessities, no doubt, the present occu- pants of the house had stowed away. The unlighted kitchen beyond seemed fairly well furnished, for his cautious groping through its shadows revealed both a cook-stove and a gas-range, the former still retaining- heat, and exhibiting a faint glimmer of fire in its grate. The outer door was locked and he could find no key, while the windows were so secured that they could be opened only by force. He made an effort to release their fastenings, but the necessary noise caused him to desist, and turn his attention elsewhere. He searched for a hatchet, but the only thing approaching a weapon to be found was a small iron poker, useless for the purpose. The condition of both pantry and kitchen seemed to indicate that those occupying the premises had no in- tention of making a prolonged stay. The supply of food was sufficient only for a day or two, and the eon- tents of the wood-box bore evidence that the cooking was done largely by the use of broken fence pickets, or other odds and ends gathered about the place. The rooms had a neglected, unswept feeling, the grime of dirt everywhere, as though no effort was being made to keep them clean. There were no curtains at the windows, and a clock on a shelf had run down. Wayne sought for a knife, feeling about in the dark, and even exploring a drawer in a table he encountered, but found none of any value for his purpose, merely dis- closing a cheap form of table cutlery. His search, however, revealed two passages leading toward the front of the house, a closed door, probably opening into the upper hall, and a swinging door, which would naturally be the entrance to the dining-room. Lifting the veil si This iatter he pushed back just far enough to obtain a view within. Directly opposite, revealed through hanging curtains a lamp was burning, the light sufficient to make dimly visible the interior between. A table, uncovered, had been pushed back against the wall, but, with the ex- ception of two chairs, there was no other furniture in the room. A faded, rather disreputable-looking carpet covered the floor—all alike evidently relics of former occupancy. Wayne had no more than time to grasp these features when some one spoke gruffly in the room beyond. "What's that? Nothin' more in the bottle? She's empty; that's a fact. Well, I can't play poker without a drink. Where's Nell?" "Gone up to bed, I suppose, an hour ago," replied another gruffly. "Anyhow, I ain't seen her since afore you fellers come in." "Then it's sure up to you, Steve, to hunt up the liquid refreshments." The speaker was Cowan, plainly enough, and already half drunk. '' There's another bottle or two hid away somewhere. Take that other lamp and hunt 'em in the kitchen. Go on now, er I'll hoot yer." There was the scraping of a chair pushed back, and the figure of a man passed the narrow slit of light. Wayne permitted the swinging door to close, conscious only that he must find a hiding-place before the fellow, bearing the light along with him, could reach the kitchen. Not knowing where the liquor might be stored, there was no safety anywhere in those rooms, and his thought instantly turned toward the other door. It opened 58 THE PATHWAY OF ADVENTURE silently, and he -emerged, not a moment too soon, into the desolation of the front hallway. The door leading into the parlor stood ajar, giving vent to a stream of light sufficient to reveal the principal features. The hall was broad, but had a bare, deserted appearance, being entirely devoid of furnishings. There were no pictures on the wall, which was badly discolored, but a narrow strip of straw-matting extended the full length. A wide stairway, ornamented by a carved rail, ran to the story above; while beneath this was a closet, the opened door revealing a few garments hanging within. Wayne slipped into its shadows and stood motionless, unable to decide on his next move, and listening intently to the advance of Steve. The latter made no attempt to hide his movements, his footsteps echoing noisily through the deserted rooms. Apparently he knew exactly where to go on his errand, as he returned almost immediately, the volume of light in the front room considerably increased as he entered with the second lamp. "That the last o' the stuff, Dave," he announced gloomily, placing a bottle heavily on the table. "I sure thought there was two, but there ain't." "Then Nell must have taken one." "Likely 'nough; she ain't none too particular, but if she has, it's up in her room, an' I don't go pokin' 'round after it—not me. Enyhow, I reckon this will keep us goin' fer a while. Come on, Almerido, it's your deal again; an' now, fer Mike's sake, give me some decent cards." The pasteboards slapped noisily on the table, and there was a gruff exchange of remarks relative to the game 60 THE PATHWAY OF ADVENTURE "First time to-night I drew anything," he declared. "And you took the last two pots—so there's no kick comin'. What yer goin' ter do with thet guy, Dave?" he questioned, as an after-thought. "I'd croak him if it wus me." "And likely get stretched for it," returned Cowan disgustedly. "I don't know which of you two duffers is the biggest fool. The Don here hed thet same notion.'' "Vel," broke in the Mexican, "zen he no talk, an' who ever find heem here—hey? 'Tis my vay to make zem no talk.'' "Yes, I guess it is; but this ain't Mexico, senor. Croakin' a guy up here is apt to turn out a rotten, bad job. Besides, why should we croak him? "Does anybody know he was after us? Maybe you do, but I don't; an' what's more, there ain't goin' ter be any killin' in this game, unless it's necessary." "Then what yer goin' ter do with him?" insisted Groggin. "I reckon we got a right ter know that." "S'posin' you have, and if I tell you, will you feel any better about it? All right, then, listen: I guess Almerido here is the brains of this outfit; anyhow, he's a pretty foxy guy, and has sure put us in the way of a bit of easy money. "I'm not kickin' 'bout that, and the only reason I'm in on the game is because I know Chicago. Well, this is Chi, ain't it? And while we 're here I 'm goin' to have my say. "I know this town, and how to work it, and neither one of you stiffs are goin' to tell me where to get off, or queer the job by croakin' anybody. We've got to do some of that stuff in a way, but it 'll be quiet, and ac- LIFTING THE VEIL 61 cordin' to Hoyle. Up to date I've delivered the goods, haven't I, Don?" His tone was aggressive, almost quarrelsome, and the Mexican hastened to appease him. "Sij eet vas as I vould, sefior." "All right, then. We have the girl, and left no trail. Not a fly cop has shown up, and the trap is set and ready to be sprung. We 'd be fine birds, wouldn 't we, to queer all this by killin' somebody, and gettin' every harness- bull in Chi barkin' at us like a pack o' wolves? "Shove that bottle over here, Steve." 9 CHAPTER VI WITHIN THE HARTIGAN HOUSE The drink evidently steadied him and put him in better humor, for he laughed boisterously as he put down the emptied glass. "What you lookin' so solemn about?" he asked. "Afraid o' that guy we lugged in?" "What wus he hangin' round yere in the night for?" said Groggin obstinately. "It don't look good to me." "Well, maybe it don't altogether to me, either," ad- mitted Cowan in a different tone. "But the feller is safe enough right where he is until we make our getaway. I've got his bein' there at the gate mostly figured an accident. Anyhow, he's no bull, an' there's no need croakin' him." "How do yer know he ain't no bull?" "'Cause I looked him over, an' went through his clothes, cully. There ain't a fly cop in this town I haven't lamped, an' besides, this fellow had no sign of a badge enywhere in his duds—not even a gat. Do you suppose he'd be nosing about here without either a gun or a star if he was after us? "Not on your life; that guy was just prowling around for luck; that's why I never went out and beat up the underbrush; soon as I seen him and frisked his pockets I knew 'twouldn't be no use—that the cuss was alone." 62 64 THE PATHWAY OF ADVENTURE go down and look him over again before I lie down— to-morrow is likely to be some day.'' '' Vat you mean, some day ?'' "In our line of business, Don. I told you, didn't I, that Dora got to the old money-grubber all right? Sure, I did; that was yesterday. I had a note from her this afternoon at the saloon. "Say, that girl's a bird; she'd fool the best of 'em. He took the bait, sinker and all—hasn't a doubt but she's the right brat.'' "Vy sh'u'd he not? Deed I not plan eet, an' vas she not ze very picture? I knew ven I first see her zat I makes ze work of art." "Oh, you've got an eye, all right, Almerido; the only trouble is that Dora is too much of a roughneck to play the game long." "Roughneck! How she be roughneck?" "Tough, I mean; she's not the society kind. She'd cuss like a pirate if things went wrong, and queer the whole game. Course I gave her a good talkin' to, an' she'll be gentle for a while; but this sorter thing ain't her graft, It 'll have to be pulled quick, or she's liable to explode." '' She blow oop? She gif eet avay ?'' '' That is all I 'm afraid of now, Don. She is a dickens of a good girl, Dora is, but she's Irish, an' quick on the trigger. It's her mouth that's likely to go off. If we could use her gagged there 'd be nuthin' to it, old man." Almerido pushed back his chair, and began excitedly pacing the floor, muttering to himself. Cowan laughed as though at a good joke. "Come, d6n't take on like that, Don," he burst out finally. "Sit down. I done the best I could for you, 66 THE PATHWAY OF ADVENTURE pick you out to boss this job, but to do what we told you to. However, let it go to-night. That's the last drink you're takin'; shall we go to bed, or have another game ?'' "I'd like to get some o' that money back; 'tain't late yet." "Well, if you've got any left we'll try another hand— how is it, Don? Shall we clean this guy up? He'll be better off without it." "Vy not zee first how ze feller was down ze stairs?" asked the cautious Mexican. "Maybe he rouse hisself now." "All right, we'll take a look at the lad for luck, an' then clean up Groggin here. Bring along the lamp, Steve." Wayne barely had time in which to slip out of sight within the recesses of the closet, pressing himself behind the protecting folds of a garment hanging there, when the three trooped into the hall. In the glare of the lamp their shadows were distinctly outlined against the wall, but no one spoke as they disappeared through the door leading downward to the basement. Almerido was the last to descend, leaving the door partially ajar behind him. Through the crack the light grew dim, and finally vanished altogether. Wayne's first thought was that this offered him an opportunity to escape from the house. He could serve the mysterious prisoner far better if he was once outside in safety than by any foolhardy attempt to communicate with her alone. Indeed, any such effort would only in- crease the danger of both. In spite of the conversation overheard the young man learned very little as to the nature of the crime con- templated; who was involved, or what relation to it was WITHIN THE HARTIGAN HOUSE 67 sustained by the girl prisoner. But he did realize that it was a crime of some magnitude, carefully planned, and the trap ready to be sprung. Some things had been said leading him to believe that even murder might be part of the game, while it was quite evident that the girl, detained under guard up-stairs, was merely being held to keep her out of the way. She certainly was in no immediate peril, but needed to be concealed while the accomplice, Dora, played her part with some unsuspecting victim. As to whom that could be, Wayne had obtained no hint, yet it was clear enough that the thread of crime stretched back into Mexico, but was now being tightened into a knot here in Chicago. The moment of action was close, and he could render far greater service by escaping from the house and re- porting all he had learned to the police. But in this attempt he found himself utterly baffled. The conspirators had left no opening behind. Their care in protecting themselves from the observation of neighbors, and safe-guarding their prisoner, had led them to see that every avenue from the house was ab- solutely secured. The front door was padlocked, the key nowhere to be found; the windows of the front room were not only nailed down, but also tightly boarded. The back part of the house, as he already knew, was secured in the same manner, and, beyond doubt, the only entrance left for use was the concealed door under the porch, by means of which he had originally obtained en- trance. This also was now locked, and unavailable. He was himself scarcely less a prisoner than the poor girl in that upper room. WITHIN THE HABTIGAN HOUSE 69 to straighten up and examine his surroundings. His thoughts were still upon a possible escape from the house, yet he had small hope of accomplishing such a feat. In all probability this section had been as carefully seen to as the floor below; besides, the ceilings were high, and, even if he succeeded in opening an unguarded window, the drop to the ground would be dangerous. Yet he could but try. His knowledge that the woman called Nell occupied one of the rooms made it imperative that he proceed with caution, so as not to arouse her. The hall ran straight back, narrowing as it approached the rear. One room occupied the part facing the head of the stairs. According to the report of Steve, this must be the apartment into which the mysterious pris- oner had been transferred. There was no transom over the door, nor did any crack reveal a light within, yet the formation of the hallway enabled him to figure it out as an apartment of some size. On the opposite side were three doors, two standing open, the third tightly closed, but with a slender gleam of light visible through its keyhole. Wayne crept cautiously forward, and applied an eye to the aperture. The lamp was turned low, revealing only a portion of the room, and that not clearly. He could distinguish the foot of a bed, the table on which the lamp sat, and a chair beside it. Beyond the table was a couch, on which a woman lay, sound asleep; beside her on the floor a half-filled bottle and an over-turned glass. He stared at her, his heart beating faster, as his mind grasped the meaning. This must be Nell, who had charge of the girl, sound asleep from the liquor she had taken. She was motionless, lying as though in a stupor, not 70 THE PATHWAY OF ADVENTURE even her outer clothes removed, her face toward him— dead to the world. She was a woman of thirty or so, rather good-looking —except for a cruel mouth—with black hair and ex- cessively heavy eye-brows. Even as he gazed at her his eyes caught the glimmer of metal on the table. It was a key! What key? To her own room likely, as the door was unlocked. Yet it might not be; indeed it was even more probable that it would prove to be the key to her pris- oner's room. Nell would have no use for any lock on her door, but she was in charge of the other, and the key would naturally be in her possession. Wayne felt so assured as to this, and so confident of being able to secure the key without discovery, that the temptation to make the attempt overmastered him. He had no plan, no purpose—yet here was the opportunity to speak with the young woman whose appeal had led him into all this danger, and learn from her own lips why she was being held captive. It was not in his nature to resist; besides, she might suggest some means of escape from the place. The first step was easily accomplished, the door open- ing noiselessly to his touch, the sleeping woman never stirring as he slipped across the narrow space interven- ing, and his fingers closed on the key. Another moment and he was again in the hall, the door closed behind him, and the key in his possession. He bent over the railing, listening to the voices of the men below. The Mexican evidently had encountered a run of ill-luck. "Eet vos ze king I play! I do not know you draw zat ace." WITHIN THE HARTIGAN HOUSE 71 "Well, you found out, Don," said Cowan, quite in- different. "Better luck next time; it's Steve's deal." Satisfied that he had ample time for the experiment, Wayne softly inserted the stolen key in the lock of the girl's door. CHAPTER VII IN PRESENCE OF THE LADY He felt a thrill of exultation as the key turned silently. Desperate as his own situation undoubtedly was, this was the supreme moment of this strange adventure, and he was still young enough to experience its inspiration. Beyond this door, already unlocked, was the one whom he had come to seek, the girl with the eyes he remem- bered so well, about whom he had been thinking earnestly ever since she had dropped the strange note at his feet. He felt himself eager to see her again, to sense the mystery of her presence. And yet a strange hesitancy restrained his hand, gave him a sense of reluctance to intrude. He stood breathless, listening to the slap of cards below, mingled with an occasional ejaculation, en- deavoring to bolster his courage. Then he smiled grimly with determination, and turned the knob. He was inside, the door closed behind him, before his eyes even ventured to observe his surroundings. Then he straightened up and remained motionless, instantly aware that his silent entrance had not even aroused the one sleeping occupant. It was a rather spacious apartment, furnished richly, although not in the best of taste, and exhibiting on all sides the evidence of neglect and years. The hangings 72 74 THE PATHWAY OF ADVENTURE "I trust I may prove so," Wayne said seriously. "This afternoon you dropped a note from your cab in Jackson Park—" "And you are the man? I—I scarcely dared look at you then." "lam the one. I have come in response to that note.'' "You—you have come! Oh, this is so wonderful I can scarcely believe it true. You have actually come! Yet how did you get here? Are those others gone ?'' "No; fortune and accident favored me. There are three men playing cards now below in the parlor— one is the Mexican with whom you were driving in the park." "Juan Almerido, and—and that horrible Cowan, that detestable Steve Groggin." "Those are the ones. We must speak quietly. The woman is asleep in her room. She had been drinking, and I crept in without disturbing her, and got the key to your door." '' She is the most dangerous of all; I am terribly afraid of her." "They call her Nell?" "Yes, Nell Brennon—that is the name she goes by; but she told me once she was Cowan's wife; he used to be a saloon-keeper and a prize-fighter; and is actually proud of it. Tell me, please, who are you?" "My name is Stuart Wayne." "Wayne—Stuart Wayne. It sounds familiar; I know I have heard it before." "Quite possible," smilingly, "as I write stories." "Why, of course! How stupid of me, and yet how strange. Is this one of your books?" She picked up the volume, lying open on the table, IN PRESENCE OF THE LADY 75 and held it out, her eyes sparkling. His own laughed back their surprise. "My very latest. It is an odd reunion surely. How did you chance to possess this in such a hole ?'' "Almerido bought it for me on the train; I've tried to read just to kill time, but am afraid I do not in the least know what it is all about. I have been so troubled, so worried. I wonder I am not insane." She buried her face in her hands, and for a moment he stood silent, looking at her. "I understand," he said at last gently. "Yet I need to know more if I would be of aid. Do you mind telling me who you are—the letters Z. G. mean so little." She lifted her eyes, but there were no tears in them— just hopefulness and faith. "I am Zaida Grayson," she answered, her voice clear, her eyes frankly meeting his own. "And I am so over- whelmed by the thought that you have actually come to me, come in answer to that foolish note, that I cannot even express my gratitude." "Nor do I ask such expression," exclaimed Wayne, made suddenly aware of their perilous position by the loud explosion of an oath in the room below. "We have no time to say anything to each other, except as it relates to our escape from this house. But first I need to under- stand the situation better. May I question you?" "You mean about why I am here?" "Yes; what danger threatens, and if you know any way out." "You know none?" "I have endeavored to discover some opening on two floors in vain—every window is boarded, and every door is locked:" IN PRESENCE OF THE LADY 77 "I did not even know what our destination was. If I had not recognized certain buildings and street names I should not even have been aware of the city to which I had been taken." "You have lived before in Chicago, then, or visited here*" "I lived here as a child—until I was fourteen." "And since then?" "My father was an engineer—a civil engineer—and my mother died. He was given the superintendency of a plantation in Mexico, and we moved there. The town was Alcicas, and I have lived there ever since—until he was killed, they told me by accident, although it oc- curred during a raid by Villa's outlaws." "You had brothers—sisters?" "I was the only child. There was only one other American woman in the town; but I was not even per- mitted to go to her." "Not permitted! Who prevented you?" "The Villistas. They were there for two weeks, kill- ing cattle and looting all the shops in town. I dared not venture on the street at first, and when I did make the effort found myself a prisoner. Our home was rifled from top to bottom—everything taken or destroyed.'' "Was that when you first met this fellow Almerido, the one you were with in the park ?'' "Yes; he was an officer with Villa. Those were his men left in control of the town. I do not know what happened, or what he found which led to his protection of me. "He scarcely allowed any one else to even approach me; there was a guard at my door day and night. Some- 18 THE PATHWAY OF ADVENTURE times since the suspicion has come that he found some information among my father's papers which had led to all this." "Did he question you?" "No; not directly, although he appeared strangely interested in my remembrance of Chicago; of my mother when she was living. Once he asked about her father, and seemed to know something of him—he was very old and eccentric; and it was rather surprising for the Mexi- can to mention his name." "He did not say where he heard of your grand- father?" "Oh, yes; he explained that father, before he died, had begged him to protect me, and take me to my grand- father. He told him where money was to be found for that purpose, and Almerido gave him his promise. "It was only because I believed he had been kind to my father that I was able to be civil to the man. In reality I—I despised him." "You had faith in what he said?" "There was nothing else for me to do but trust him. I had nothing—no friends, no money. I was not even permitted to communicate with any one; my father was buried before I was told of his death.'' "Your grandfather lived in Chicago?" "Yes; yet that to me was the strangest part of all. His name was never mentioned by my father. We had neither seen nor heard of him since my mother died. "He was never reconciled to the marriage, and I only saw him once, as a child. I am sure my father never had a letter from him." "You told Almerido this?" "Yes; was there any reason why I should not?" IN PRESENCE OF THE LADY 79 "I am not sure. "What happened later?" "The soldiers finally rode away, leaving the town in flames; but Almerido did not go with them. He sent them away under an officer, promising to join shortly. He pretended he would serve me, and I had to permit. "He had plenty of money, and in three days we suc- ceeded in reaching El Paso. For a week we were there, in the Mexican quarter, and I was not once allowed on the street. "That was when his manner changed, and he became almost brutal. I grew afraid of him. Before then he had been gentle and considerate, and I had stifled my dislike. Then one night he took me to the train bound north. At the station we met the other two.'' "Cowan and Nell Brennon?" "Yes; I did not see the one they call Steve until we arrived here. He had this house ready for us." "And these four compose the whole gang?" "I think there is one other- -a younger woman, with light hair and blue eyes, rather flashily dressed when I saw her. She came in with Nell the day after we arrived here, but they only stopped for a moment. "She eyed me very carefully, but did not speak until just before they left. I thought her words and actions were very strange." "Why, what did she say?" "This is all I caught: 'All to the good, Nell; I've got an eyeful; it's a cinch; let's go.'" "You did not even hear her name mentioned?" The girl shook her head. "No. I asked the Brennon woman later who she was, but the creature only laughed. I have told you every- thing, Mr. "Wayne—everything I know." 80 THE PATHWAY OF ADVENTURE Wayne dropped into a chair, his hand shading his eyes, as he endeavored to better concentrate his thoughts. Instead of clearing, the mystery had deepened. Appar- ently he was further away than ever from its solution. He was convinced of Zaida's truthfulness; that she possessed absolutely no conception of the purpose and plan of her captors; yet now he knew that some deep-laid scheme of crime was behind all this preparation. Two facts stood clearly forth before him—Almerido must have discovered something of importance among Gray- son's papers; and this discovery had reference to the grandfather in Chicago. "With this conjecture ceased; but not suspicion. "They have suggested nothing to you?" he questioned, lifting his eyes to her face. '' No hint of marriage ?'' "That was never mentioned"—in surprise. "Whom would I marry?" "I cannot even guess. The affair offers me no foun- dation to work upon. Whatever their purpose can be, it is difficult to conceive why you should be kept hidden away here, a prisoner. How long have you been in this house?" "Three weeks; most of that time only Steve and Nell have been with me.'' The others were completing arrangements elsewhere; now, no doubt, the wires are all laid, and they are simply waiting the moment to press the button. It looks as though they merely desired to keep you out of sight— your identity hidden. Is your grandfather wealthy ?'' "I have always been told so; I remember as a child his house seemed like a palace to me." "Do you know where he lived?" IN PRESENCE OF THE LADY 81 '' Only that it is upon the North Side, near the Lake.'' "He is an old man, I presume?" "Over eighty, but vigorous enough when I saw him last. You see," she explained, "mother only took me there twice, when she went on some errand. The only other time I saw him was at the funeral. "Since then even his name has not been mentioned. I know he lived alone, with a housekeeper. Can you figure out from all this why I am held prisoner here ?'' "No, I cannot," Wayne admitted gravely. "I can only guess from what I have seen, and what you have told me. It is very strange, but it must be your grand- father's money the fellows are after. There has been no attempt to misuse you, except the holding of you prisoner—no word of insult, or suggestion that they re- quired your services in any way. "That is what makes it all so mysterious. They must be playing for big stakes, and the only certain way of blocking their game, whatever it may be, is for you to escape from their control. "My plan is to hide here until those men go to bed, and then the two of us will steal quietly down-stairs, and find some means of getting out at the rear." "You think that possible?" "Why not? Nell is supposed to guard you—she is drunk and asleep. Do any of the men ever come in your room at night?" "No; I am locked in." "Then there is nothing for us to do but wait—listen!" and Wayne caught her arm tightly. "The card-party is breaking up now. I'll blow out the light." They stood closely beside each other, in complete dark- 82 THE PATHWAY OF ADVENTURE ness, his hand still clasping her sleeve. The shuffling of feet below, and the occasional growl of a voice, were clearly audible. Then they became aware that the three men were climbing the stairs. At the top one yawned sleepily. It must have been Cowan, for it was his voice which spoke: '' Leave the lamp here, Steve, so Nell can use it. Why, what does this mean, boys. Here's the key left in the girl's door!" CHAPTER VIII THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT Wayne's fingers closed tighter on his companion's arm, and his teeth clinched to keep back an exclamation. He had made a mistake, played the fool, and now it was likely to cost them both their only chance. However, there was nothing to do but remain silent, hoping for the best. The voices outside were as clearly heard as if the men speaking were actually in the room. "Vat you zay, Cowan?" shrilled Almerido, excitedly. "Zee girl not locked up? Eet spoil all eef she go!" "Oh, she's locked up all right; Nell likely forgot the key. Drunk again—hey, Cowan?" broke in Groggin, not unpleased with the situation. The big fellow gave utterance to an oath, and his heavy tread echoed in the hall. "If she is I'll give her a lesson!" he growled savagely. "This is the second time she's played that trick, an' it 'll be the last!" Groggin laughed as the irate man flung open the woman's door, but hushed suddenly when the fellow emerged instantly, dragging her after him, half awake, sobbing out her denial. '' Honest, Dave, I never left it there ?" she cried, strug- gling to free herself. "Let go of me, you brute! I locked her in, and put the key on the stand by the bed. 83 84 THE PATHWAY OF ADVENTURE "No, I dunno what's become of it. Hit me, if you dare, you big stiff! If you do I'll land you, all right. Of course I took a drink; but that's no more than you did yourself. The girl's safe enough—why don't you go in and see?" A hand grasped the knob, and a surprised voice uttered a cry. '' Unlocked! The key never was turned!'' The fellow flung the door wide open, the yellow light of the upheld lamp streaming through the aperture and revealing the interior. Cowan pushed forward, the others clustering in the doorway behind, all staring in speechless amazement at what they saw. For an instant they must have doubted the evidence of their eyes, for Wayne had thrust the trembling girl behind him, and stood fronting them. In spite of the peril of his position he felt cool, confident, and his eyes smiled as he viewed the bewilderment in their faces. "Well, gentlemen," he asked quietly, "why this in- trusion?" "Who are you? Where did you come from?" Wayne kept his eyes steadily upon the questioner, one hand free, the other buried in the pocket of his coat. His only immediate hope was bluff; that these fellows, conscious of being involved in crime, might mistake him for an officer of the law. He was unarmed, with four against him, yet the ex- periment was worth trying. Certainly boldness prom- ised more than timidity. "There is no time for me to answer those questions, Dave Cowan,'' he said shortly. '' But I 'll tell you where I am going. Miss Grayson and I are going out that door, down those stairs, and through the basement hallway to the yard!" THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 85 "I guess not!" "Who will stop us?" asked Wayne, calmly and coolly. "You? I have a gun in this pocket. If one of you put out a hand I'll shoot. "Come in here. Now range up there, and keep your hands in sight. Listen to me a minute—I know every one of you." "Yes, you do!" "That's true, Cowan. I'll prove it. You are a Chi- cago crook, an ex-saloon-keeper and prize fighter; Nell Brennon there is your woman. The other two are Steve Groggin, an ordinary thief, and the Mexican is Juan Al- merido, one time with Villa. "I've got the goods on you four, and you've got the choice right now of a getaway or a fight. If I begin shooting it is going to start something pretty lively for your bunch." The apparent uncertainty of the fellows increased Wayne's faith that they were unarmed, and that his calm assumption of authority had completely cowed them. No one spoke, as his gaze wandered from face to face; not an eye met his. '' Well,'' he insisted, '' how is it, Cowan? Do we go?" "I believe ye're bluffin. Ye're no fly-cop, or ye'd 'a' flashed a badge before this; an' yer've got no gat in that pocket, either. "I'm too old a hand ter hav' that sort o' gaft thrown inter me, young feller. When yer git out o' here they'll carry yer." He came with a rush, both arms working, but, at that, he half expected to be greeted with a shot, and neglected his guard. Wayne was ready and quick to take ad- vantage of this uncertainty. He met him half-way, both THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 87 Twice he broke free from Cowan's clinch, the second time gaining the landing, and stood at bay, gripping a heavy stool found there, threatening to cave in the skull of the ex-pugilist if he advanced a step nearer. Cowan hesitated, his eyes ugly and menacing; then flung a word of unintelligible command back across his shoulder to the woman. In response she crept past, slid- ing along the wall, beyond the reach of Wayne, whose back was protected by the stair-rail. He had but one conception of her purpose; she had been despatched for a weapon, and he must put that big brute out of the fighting before she could return. The strange scene burned in on his brain—a picture to live forever in memory. Below him Groggin clung to the banisters to keep from plunging the rest of the flight, his white, terror- stricken face ghastly in the yellow light as he peered upward, afraid even to regain his feet. Cowan fronted him just outside the door, a huge, threatening bulk, a gash cut in his lip from which blood dripped, his great fists like sledge-hammers. He seemed poised for a rush, eyeing the uplifted stool with the savage cunning of a trapped beast. Beyond him Wayne had a glimpse of the shadows within the room—of the dim outlines of the girl, whose fate hung in the balance. And the sight of her, the knowledge that Nell would return in a moment, weapon in hand, urged him to action. If he could brain Cowan before the woman reappeared the way of escape was open, for Steve was already out of the struggle. Wayne advanced, the heavy stool flung back for a blow. Cowan edged along the wall out of his reach, not 88 THE PATHWAY OF ADVENTURE as though attempting to escape, but as if looking for an opening to close; his eyes glinting with hatred, his clenched fists ready to strike. Slowly the two circled, watchful of each other, every muscle strained for the emergency, Wayne seeking to draw in closer, his an- tagonist endeavoring to remain beyond the sweep of the poised stool. It was all the work of a tense moment, but the move- ment forward drew Wayne into the very center of the hall, with Cowan apparently trapped against the blank wall behind him, any further retreat impossible. Seem- ingly the fellow realized the situation, for he gave vent to an oath. “You think you’ve got me!” he roared, his arm flung up as though to ward off a blow. “Now, Nell—quick!” The floor yawned beneath Wayne's feet; he flung out his hands to grip at the edge of the hole; his fingers slipped, and he went plunging down, clawing uselessly at smooth boards into intense blackness. He recalled afterward the glimpse he had of Cowan’s face, the scream from the lips of the girl, but that was all; a second later he lay in a motionless heap, unconscious, at the foot of the shaft, shrouded by utter blackness. - Through an open knot-hole, and along a narrow crack, where two boards failed to join perfectly, the early light of dawn found entrance into the basement. It was a pale, sickly light, only serving to render the place more gloomy and desolate, revealing remnants of coal scattered about the floor, and festoons of cobwebs clinging to the beams overhead. Dirt and dust were everywhere. The body huddled against the rear wall moved slightly, showing that life yet lingered in what had seemed a mere pile of rags, 90 THE PATHWAY OF ADVENTURE "What's the matter? Done up?" "No, I think not; I'm pretty badly bruised, but I'll try to help you." "Some drop you had. I saw the light glimmer down that shaft, and you surely struck hard. I thought you were dead, the way you lay; but I couldn't get over there. Unconscious ?'' "Yes, but don't seem to have any broken bones." "Had some fight up above. I could hear that racket down here. I'll certainly be glad to get out of this lacing,'' By clinging to irregularities in the wall Wayne man- aged to gain his feet. His head swam dizzily, while sharp twinges of pain made him afraid to attempt the passage erect and unaided. In desperation he crept across through the dirt to where the other lay. It was the blackest corner of the cellar, and, even as he worked at the knotted ropes, the face of the man remained invisible. He loosened the gag first and then the strands binding the wrists. These had been drawn so tightly the hands were numb and helpless, but were brought back to some semblance of life, while the rescuer devoted his attention to the strapped feet. The other sat up, eager to learn what had occurred. "You don't belong to this gang?" he asked doubtfully. "No. I came in just behind you, I saw you slugged at the gate." "You did! Well, that was a fool trick of mine, run- ning blindly into those fellows. I never saw or heard them until we were face to face. How many were there?" THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 91 "Two—an ex-prize-fighter, named Cowan, and a Mex- ican. It was Cowan who hit you." "Yes, he hit me, all right. I never knew what did do it. I am certainly an honor to the force to be knocked out like that.'' "You are a detective?" "Sort of one—United States Secret Service; you'd never think it." "The fact they got you proves nothing," said Wayne, tugging at a buckle. '' There, I 've got that at last. Now you can stretch out your legs. But those fellows searched you and found nothing?" The man laughed, beating his feet against the floor to restore circulation. "That was just a bit of good luck," he said easily, his happy-go-lucky nature beginning to reassert itself. "I was off duty, and had changed my clothes. "You see, it was this way: On a Madison car I hap- pened to notice a female that I knew once—rather shady reputation—and wondered what she was doing here. Took the notion to follow her, and brought up at this house.'' "Nell Brennon?" "That's the party; she was mixed up with Maxwell's bunch of counterfeiters about three years ago. Who did you say the big duffer was who hit me?" "Dave Cowan." "Never heard of him—what others are in this gang?" "An ex-officer with Villa in Mexico—Juan Almerido; he's the brains of the outfit; a poor devil named Steve Groggin, and a girl called Dora. I have never seen her." 92 THE PATHWAY OF ADVENTURE He seemed to be turning these names over in his mind, but, at last, admitted: "They are all new ones to me. Give me your hand, and I'll see if I can stand up. Pretty groggy yet, but 11l make it. Let's get out into the light—I want to see what you look like. Why, darn it, man—are you Stuart Wayne?" "Stiles! Dan Stiles! Why this is too good to be true. I never recognized your voice." "Why should you? I wouldn't know it myself. But, my boy, this grows interesting. Whatever sent you into the detective business? "I thought you made up your own plots, and then solved them to suit yourself. How did you get mixed up with this gang, and what's their graft?" '' I can answer your first question easily enough, Dan,'' said Wayne, the two squatting on the floor, and staring at each other in the dim light, which barely revealed their faces. "But as to the last I am as much at sea as you are. However, you may find a clew, so I'll tell my story." He began at the beginning, tracing his experiences briefly, aware of the increasing interest in Stiles's eyes as he proceeded. The latter spoke only once or twice, getting some point clear, until the narrative was com- pleted. '' As rum a story as I ever heard,'' he admitted finally. "If I hadn't got mixed up in it I'd put it down as a pipe dream. There's only one thing clear—they're after the old man's swag. But how do they aim to get it?" "You have no theory?" "Only a vague one. There must have been some in- formation discovered in Grayson's papers to give that THE MAN IN THE BASEMENT 93 Mexican the great idea. What it was I don't know—but he must have seen easy money. "The only scheme I can imagine is they are holding the girl prisoner until they Can gain control of the old man. What did you say his age was?" "Somewhere in the eighties." "And he lives on the North Side, near the lake, alone, except for a housekeeper. It might be murder, or just plain robbery. What's his name?" Wayne stared at his questioner in startled surprise. "Why, I never thought to ask," he said weakly. "I haven't the slightest idea. He was the father of Miss Grayson's mother—that is all I know." Stiles laughed. "Then we are at the very beginning of things," he confessed. "For you and I are here alone—the whole gang cleared out of the house two hours ago." CHAPTER IX THE END OF A BLIND ALLEY Wayne got to his feet; his head still reeled, but other- wise he felt quite himself again. "Are you sure? How do you know?" "Of course, I don't know," answered Stiles, "but I have every reason to believe they left soon after you were given your tumble. I could hear them moving about freely enough for a while; two of them came in here with a lantern and looked us both over. "I suppose they were satisfied, for neither one said anything. I couldn't make out their faces, the way they screened the light. I heard them talking after they got out into the hall. '' A little later the whole outfit must have come down- stairs, and slipped out the front way. That was quite a while before daylight, and I haven't heard a sound since." "No street-cars run out here after midnight." 1' Then they walked it, unless they had some sort of rig in the barn. Anyhow, they've gone. Give me a lift, Wayne; I believe I can stand up now, and we may as woll begin digging ourselves out of this hole." Ho was ten minutes exercising the numbness out of his limbs, before he could navigate alone safely, but in the meanwhile Wayne, whose injuries were bruises, made a thorough survey of their prison, finding the heavy door bolted awurely, and the single window so protected by 9* THE END OF A BLIND ALLEY 95 iron grillework that the outside boards could not, by any effort, be reached or dislodged. He turned in despair to his companion. "Those demons meant for us to die in here," he said soberly. "They haven't left a place big enough for a rat to get through, Stiles. That is why they left us alive; they knew we'd starve to death anyhow." "I thought quite likely that was the game. It only shows that the gang is playing for high stakes, and that they are no pikers," commented the detective, star- ing about him into the darker corners. "But I positively refuse to die in any such way. Let's see, what can be done? The cusses emptied all my pockets—what have you got in yours?" "A key ring, a few dollars in change, some postage- stamps, a knife—" "Hand that over; good, here's one fair-sized blade. Say, isn't that a bit of a pole over there?" "Sure, good hickory; put the end in between those iron bars, and try knocking a bigger hole in that board —I want more light." It required the strength of both to accomplish this, but together they broke out quite a splinter, letting in a stream of daylight which made visible the entire in- terior. The surrounding solid stone walls were not en- couraging, but Stiles was in no way down-hearted, as he started in to examine each separate inch of surface. "There is a basement room in front of this," he said, cheerfully, "and the wall between is more likely to be thin than those others. If we can loosen a small stone, so as to insert that hickory pole, we ought to pry some- thing loose—not very good mortar, either, old man. Now, let's try our luck here." 96 THE PATHWAY OF ADVENTURE It was slow work, hard on the hands, and they took turns at it, encouraged to persevere by the slight progress made. The knife blade broke twice, but was really bet- tered for the purpose. Fortunately, the original builder had been prodigal with his mortar, giving them ample room between the stones; yet at that it required the constant labor of an hour to loosen one so that—using the pole as a battering ram—they could succeed in driving the bit of rock through into the forward apartment. It fell noisily, and Stiles gave vent to a satisfied laugh, as he peered through the opening into the darkness beyond. "Messrs. Cowan and company are not through with us yet," he said, grinning with satisfaction, "thanks to your little old knife. Now get busy here, Wayne, and we'll pry another one out in a jiffy. "That's it, lad; put your whole weight on it; wait, let me dig a little first—now we ought to bring her. How is that? Do you think you could squeeze through that hole*" Wayne made the effort, assisted by the vigorous push- ing of the detective, and succeeded in wiggling out on the other side, sprawling down onto a brick floor in pro- found darkness. Stiles, a much smaller man, followed easily, and the two waited quietly a moment to regain their breath. Unable to perceive even a hand held before their eyes, they felt their way cautiously along the wall and out into the hall through an open door. Here the dark- ness was no less intense, while the silence and desolation of the house thoroughly convinced them of its desertion. Wayne reached out and touched his companion. THE END OF A BLIND ALLEY 97 '' Shall we try the door? It is the only one unbarred.'' "Not yet; let's grope our way up-stairs. It's not likely they carried away the lamps, and I want to look around a bit—we might run onto a clue." They found what they sought on the card-table in the front room, and the light enabled them to explore the house thoroughly, room by room. Stiles never over- looked a closet, and his lamp threw its rays into every corner and crevice, but to no purpose. Not so much as a scrap of paper, or a belonging which could be associated with the late occupants, was dis- covered. The drawers of tables and bureaus were empty; even the eatables in the pantry had disappeared; the only thing remaining to remind Wayne of his past experience being the copy of his novel lying open on the table, where the girl had placed it. In the hurry of their flight nothing else had been over- looked. Indeed, that flight had not really been a hurried one. According to Stiles they had taken nearly two hours in the preparation for departure, time enough, surely, in which to make everything safe. Evidently Cowan felt no fear of the prisoners confined in the base- ment; he believed them out of the reckoning; but their presence in the house was proof that suspicion had been aroused, and hence it was safer for him to seek other quarters. But he was in no way hurried about it; anytime before daylight would do, and he made sure that no trail pos- sible to follow should be left behind. The two searchers, convinced of the uselessness of further effort, discussed the situation, in no pleasant humor. "There isn't a thing in the place less than forty years old," said Stiles, staring about. "The old fox has made 98 THE PATHWAY OF ADVENTURE a clean getaway. So far as I see we might as well go.'' "Where?" "Well, to breakfast first; I am about famished. After that we'll talk it 'over." "You have no plan, nothing to suggest? Surely you have no intention of dropping the affair ?'' "I judge you have no such thought?" "I?" indignantly. "No; I am in it to the end. I could never forgive myself if I deserted Zaida Grayson and left her in the hands of those brutes. But, Dan, what can we do?" "Frankly, Wayne, just at present I can't answer that question. Your failure to secure the name of the girl's grandfather, or any information leading to his discovery, puts us in a blind alley. These people will go into some hole, and disappear. "The only one of the four I know is Nell Brennon, and to try and find her in this city—even if they remain here—would be hunting a needle in a hay stack. These people are sure to feel now that some one is on their trail, and keep out of sight. "We've lost all the advantage we ever had. If I can only succeed in establishing the identity of the others, it will help." "How can that be done?" "Possibly through the police department. We'll in- terview Bill Dermott first, at the City Hall. He'll know Cowan, and where he hangs out, if any one does. But there is no use drifting around here any longer—let's get out." They had breakfast on Madison Street, in a small restaurant, discussing the situation again but coming to no more definite decision. Wayne's hat had been THE END OF A BLIND ALLEY 99 ruined and he bought another, and after the two had visited a boot-blacking establishment and wash-room they once more made a fairly presentable appearance. Wayne, still obsessed with the memory of the girl, and her danger, insisted on their visiting police head- quarters at once. Stiles consented, although without exhibiting any particular enthusiasm. It was ten thirty when the two arrived at the City Hall, and ascended in the elevator. Stiles's name, men- tioned to the officer at the door, gained them immediate admittance, and, a moment later, both were ushered into the presence of the chief. Dermott, a large, burly man, with deepset eyes under heavy eye-brows, and wearing a closely clipped gray mustache, glanced searchingly up into the face of each, waved his stenographer out of the room and, with the same motion, indicated chairs. "You haven't been around lately, Dan—six months since I 've seen you,'' he said genially, picking up a half- smoked cigar and lighting it. "Been busy?" "Bather; out of town on the La Rue case most of the time." "Yes, I remember; very nice bit of work—very. Well, I suppose your call is not merely a social one—they never are. What can I do for you?" His eyes rested on Wayne, and Stiles hastened to present his companion. '' This is Stuart Wayne, the novelist,'' he said quietly, "and he has a story that ought to interest you." "Wayne—hey? I've heard of him, of course, al- though I'm not reading much fiction. It's rather out of my line," and Dermott laughed gruffly. "I hope it is not one of your plots you are trying to put over on the » 9160G4 100 THE PATHWAY OF ADVENTURE /- department—we have troubles enough of our own." "If my bones are any proof of its reality, Bill," put in Stiles before the other could answer, "this is fan away from being fiction. The fact is I've been tied up in a cellar for the last ten hours, because I accidentally became mixed up in the affair. Tell him about it from the beginning, Wayne." The young author did so, simply and effectively, the chief exhibiting his interest by leaning forward across the desk, his eyes never leaving the speaker's face. Not once did he interrupt, or interject any remark, but his teeth bit sharply into the stub of his cigar. As Wayne ceased speaking his glance wandered toward Stiles, who sat silent. "And this is straight, Dan?" "Absolutely, so far as I know." "Rather odd combination. I don't remember these people; how did you get mixed up in the affair?" Stiles explained briefly, and when he had concluded, Dermott, without further expressing himself, rang an electric bell. "Is Corcoran out there?" he asked of the attendant who appeared. "He is? Have him step in here." A tall, slender man entered, and stood soberly beside the desk, hat in hand, his gaze quickly taking in all present. '' Sam said you wanted me, sir.'' "Yes, Corcoran; do you know a roughneck by the name of Cowan—Dave Cowan? A big fellow; has done some prize-fighting, I understand." Corcoran stood silent, his eyes on the wall, evidently communing with his memory. THE END OF A BLIND ALLEY 101 "No, sir," he said slowly. "I've known several Cow- ans, but none like that." "Nor Steve Groggin, either a sneak-thief or barroom tough?" "Never did, sir." "How about a woman named Nell Brennon?" Corcoran's thin lips smiled. "Ah, I got her mapped; but she ain't in town, or at least wasn't three weeks ago. You must know her, Mr. Stiles—she was mixed up in the Maxwell case.'' "Yes," admitted Stiles, "but we got nothing on her, and I never did know what gang she ran with. What do you know about her?" "Well, 'tain't much, when it comes to that," confessed Corcoran. "We never did have our hooks on her in this town. She always played pretty safe, but I've known about her for maybe ten years. She married Ike Harti- gan-" "Who?" exclaimed Wayne. "Ike Hartigan," and Corcoran looked curiously at his interrogator. "His dad was the king gambler of this town years ago, and got bumped off in a row over a game. "Ike ran a saloon for a while on Randolph, a pretty tough joint, believe me. A fellow got croaked there one night, and Ike skipped out. You remember that, chief ?'' "Yes," assented Dermott. "We never had anything on him, but he thought we did—where was it he went to?" "El Paso; running guns across the border, the last I heard. Davis wrote me about him a year ago—but I didn't want him for anything. Come to think about it, THE END OF A BLIND ALLEY 103 "Corcoran will find your man for you, if any one can," he said genially. "He's better than any dog on a trail. I'll call you up, Dan, as soon as he has any- thing to report. Am glad to have met you, Mr. Wayne —and I may read one of your books some time.'' Neither man spoke as they descended in the elevator to the ground floor, but on the La Salle Street steps Wayne felt impelled to ask a question. "What do you really think about this, Dan? Will he locate Cowan?" "Frankly, I don't believe he will," Stiks answered gravely. "He looks to me like the ordinary fat-head, without an ounce of brains. Hartigan—for no doubt that is who Cowan is—believes he's wanted in this town for murder. Nothing but a big job would ever have brought him back here at all. "But once here, and with that kind of a job on his hands, he isn't likely to hunt up his old crowd, and run around with them. Any fool would know better than that. Corcoran can beat Randolph from now till dooms- day, and never see our man.'' "Where do you think he is?" "If I knew I'd go there; but my idea is that right now, after what happened last night, he is hid away in the quietest hole he can find in town—the last place we'd suspect—under some other name. It 'll be a week before he puts his nose out-doors, unless he has to." "But, Dan, the girl! I cannot forget her; or remain idle while she is in the hands of that gang." Stiles lit a cigar, his gaze wandering up and down the crowded street. "They are not going to hurt her, Wayne," he said finally. "That's no part of their game, judging from 104. THE PATHWAY OF ADVENTURE what you've told me. All they want is to keep her hid- den away while they play out their hand. "Of course they might kill her if it got too hot, but that's no part of their scheme. I wouldn't put anything like that past them, if they believed it necessary—but, right now, they don't. "So I wouldn't worry about her at present. I am going home, get some sleep, and think it all over myself. That is the only way I can untangle a mix-up like this. "My idea right now is that the proper end to start at will be grandfather. Once we get him picked, we'll be in shape to block Mr. Mexican before he can shoot. There is nothing more to be done now, that's certain; after a rest and a bath we will both think clearer. "Look me up about six o'clock—you know my rooms. We'll have Corcoran's report by then, and, perhaps, can figure out something definite." CHAPTER X FACING ANOTHER TRAGEDY Wayne finally fell into an uneasy sleep, waking in the neighborhood of four o 'clock, conscious of a dull pain in his head. A bath and change of clothing remedied this, however, but his every thought centered about Zaida Grayson. Could it be that she was held for ransom? Was that the conspiracy? No other theory appeared so reason- able, considering all the circumstances; and yet on what supposition did Almerido base his hopes? The Mexi- can's decision to make the girl prisoner had been sud- denly taken; it must have originated through some dis- covery made in that looted home in Mexico. Yet surely he would never have deserted Villa, and embarked on so desperate an enterprise without some assurance of success. What assurance did he have? How had he convinced Hartigan that the reward would warrant his risking his neck in Chicago once more? The answer must be found in some letter written to Grayson by the unknown grandfather—perhaps in some legal document, of the existence of which the girl was not aware. Perhaps Hartigan had been persuaded to take a hand through some knowledge he possessed as to the older man's wealth and mode of life. Wayne felt confident that Zaida had told him all she knew; that not one word had reached her revealing 105 106 THE PATHWAY OF ADVENTURE the true purpose of the men. She had been silenced by threat, and kept from any possible contact with others outside the gang. The only communication she had ventured to send forth had reached him with its pitiful appeal. Now, no doubt, she was in worse stress than ever—more closely guarded and concealed. If he only knew that that was all. The argument of Stiles had not wholly convinced. Of course, if this should prove a mere ease of abduction, it would not be to the interest of the fellows to do injury to their pris- oner. Her greatest danger would lie in an attempt to escape; or if others made an effort to aid her. Yet she might receive no too kind treatment; even torture might be resorted to in compelling her to do their will. No form of cruelty would be impossible to Almerido, and the fellow called Cowan was a bestial brute. And then, if ransom was not the real purpose—and it was not clear that it was—and these ruffians had con- cocted a more despicable scheme, involving, if need be, even murder to attain their ends—what might that mean to her? His heart seemed to stop beating as a possibility oc- curred to his mind. Suppose their plan was to have her impersonated by another—that girl Dora, it might be. Bold as such a project would be, it was still not altogether beyond the possibility of crime. Indeed, in this case it promised a measure of safety. The longer Wayne thought over the situation, the stronger became his conviction, that this was their pur- pose. Almerido had learned in some way that Zaida would inherit her grandfather's wealth in case of his FACING ANOTHER TRAGEDY 107 death. In spite of the old man's hatred and dislike of his son-in-law, he had made a will in favor of the grand- daughter. Grayson must have had papers in his possession, show- ing this fact, either from his own lawyer or in the form of a letter from the older man. He had kept this a secret, never revealing it to the girl—but the Mexican had found it after the other's death. Instantly his evil mind had conceived the scheme, and every circumstance, as he gradually learned the truth from Zaida's story, increased his faith in its possibility of execution. He played for stakes large enough to justify the risk; if, indeed, there were risks. The grandfather had not seen the grandchild since childhood; his memory of her would not be clear—any fair substitute, possessing quick wit and such knowledge as could be easily extracted from conversation with the real person, should be able to impersonate her sufficiently well to pass muster. The trial would not be particularly difficult—the right age, a general resemblance, a well- told story and a few recollections of the past ought to do the trick. The old man would have no suspicions; and there was no one else to question the genuineness of the impostor. He would need help, of course, but that ought not be hard to obtain—El Paso was seething with desperate characters, who would be willing to sell their very souls for half what he could offer if his plan met with success; indeed, in all probability the fellow knew, even as the project took shape in his brain, exactly where he would find the assistance needed. The very simplicity of it gave him courage. Why, it could not fail. All they needed to do was guard the 108 THE PATHWAY OF ADVENTURE girl, keep her entirely out of sight and hearing; while the other, made over in every possible way in her re- semblance, played the assigned part, until the old man died. Until he died! Wayne shivered as these words echoed in his mind. Would they wait for that to occur? Wait for nature to take its slow course? There came back to him a sharp memory of Cowan's brutal boast relative to the mysterious Dora, and her mission, that "it would have to be pulled quick or she'd explode." Pulled quick! There was only one way to pull it quick; and, if his theory of their purpose was correct, only one meaning to such a remark—the death of the victim. And after that, what of Zaida? Following so cold-blooded a crime, would they dare permit her to live, to come forward later and rob them of their ill-gotten loot? It seemed scarcely possible, for while she lived no one of them would be safe. They could not hold her per- petually under guard; yet, if her death also was a part of their program, why was she being spared now? Un- known, unfriended as the girl was in the world, it would be far safer for them to put her immediately out of the way, than to keep her a prisoner as they were doing. It would have been a comparatively easy matter to dispose of her in the deserted Hartigan house, and de- stroy all evidence of her existence—yet she had been spared, protected, and taken away with them when they fled. Surely the preservation of her life was not through any fear of the crime, for there had been no hesitancy to murder, where it would serve their purpose. FACING ANOTHER TRAGEDY 109 They had deliberately left him to die, no doubt believed him already dead in that foul basement; they had de- serted Stiles to perish miserably in his bonds of starva- tion. What then was the cause of this mercy shown Zaida Grayson? Only one reason was apparent to "Wayne's mind—they still had some part for the girl to play; if she was spared it was to serve their own ends. After that they would save themselves at any cost of life. The clearness of this reasoning left Wayne half-mad with the feeling of helplessness. Nowhere was there a loop-hole through which he could burst. If he only had not been such a blind fool as to have overlooked the one important thing—the name of that unfortunate man whose very life was at stake. It was this oversight alone which completely blocked any attempt at either warning or rescue. As it was they stood staring helplessly at a blank wall. To be sure, even this was a problem that might be solved with time—but time was the very essence of the case. Somewhere, with patience and cunning, they were bound to discover some one who in other days had known Grayson, and the name of the woman he married; but in the meantime—what? "While they were delving after this essential fact all would be over; they might be gaz- ing into the faces of the dead. Even to-morrow could be too late—aye, even to-day the crime might be committed, the perpetrators safely hidden from pursuit. His hand trembled as he took out his watch. It was nearly six; he would seek Stiles, and learn if there was any news. He felt incapable longer of facing this horror alone. Wayne caught a cross-town car, so deeply immersed 110 THE PATHWAY OF ADVENTURE in his own gloomy thoughts as to be indifferent to bis surroundings. The man sitting next him held an even- ing paper open. So he could not escape reading the sen- sational head-lines, although the words scarcely made any real impression on his mind at the time. Later they returned in glaring lettering to memory. MUNITION FACTORY FIRE. Disastrous Blaze Started by Bombs. Believed Incendiary. Continental Factory Company Victim. Government Agent on Scene. Stiles's apartments were near the lake, in a large brown-stone edifice, devoted to the housing of bachelors of ample means. A young, smooth-faced individual, evi- dently a valet, responded to Wayne's ring, holding the door partially open as he cautiously appraised the visitor. "No, sir, Mr. Stiles is not in; he has been gone some hours. I could not tell you when he will return; no, sir, he left no word.'' He hesitated; breathing softly. "May I ask, sir, if you are Mr. Wayne?" "I am Stuart Wayne." "Exactly, sir, if you will step inside, sir—thank you. There is a note for you on the study-table—yes, sir, the first door." He hung about deferentially, all suspicion gone, but Wayne gave him no further thought as he tore open the sealed envelope and hastily perused the few lines. They FACING ANOTHER TRAGEDY 111 merely related to Stiles's absence, to examine into the facts of a mysterious fire on the North Side, in which the plant of the Continental Factory Company, engaged in making munitions for the British government, had been almost com^etely destroyed. The blaze was believed to be incendiary. Would Wayne wait in his rooms until Dermott reported? He himself would probably return early in the evening. Wayne lifted his eyes from the note, and encountered those of the valet. "What is your name?" "Simpson, sir." "Well, Simpson, Mr. Stiles writes me that he will be back early in the evening, and I am to wait for him here." "Very well, sir; is there any thing I can do?" "Yes; if he is called by phone from the City Hall, I will take the message. Have you an evening paper? Thanks. I presume these are Stiles's cigars; I'll help myself.'' "Is that all, sir?" "I think so; if I want anything else 11l call." Wayne read the evening news, and walked the floor, too nervous and miserable to remain quiet, yet unable to conceive of any possible thing he could accomplish else- where. The report of the fire was a mere fragment, con- taining no details, and did not interest him, and all other items of news appeared unusually commonplace. Not for one instant could he divorce his mind from Zaida Grayson, or this peculiar tragedy of crime into which he had been so unexpectedly thrown. Dermott called up finally, just as he was leaving the office, but his man had obtained no information of value. 112 THE PATHWAY OF ADVENTURE Corcoran had made the rounds of Hartigan 's old haunts, and interviewed some of his former cronies. None of these admitted any knowledge of his return to the city— he had not been seen or heard from in years. The detective was about convinced that he and Cowan were not the same person, but would pursue his investi- gation further in the morning. Wayne banged up the receiver in disgust, and stared out through the dark- ened window into the street, savagely chewing his cigar. The wooden-headed fool! The only result of such futile efforts would be to advertise broadcast that the fellow was being sought by the police. If Cowan had a real friend left in town, the warning would be taken to him, and he would lie tighter than ever in his hole. The best thing to do would be to call Corcoran off before he ruined everything by such clumsy methods. Stiles came in a little after eight, hungry and with, his clothes spattered with water. His mind was occupied upon his new case, but he listened attentively enough to Wayne's theory, while eating hastily, saying little him- self until the latter reached a conclusion. "I am afraid you have the dope about as it is, Wayne," he admitted gravely. "I lay here and thought it all over myself, after I first came in. "There is no other scheme which fits so exactly into the known facts. I am just as interested in solving this mystery as you are—or nearly so, at least, for I have never seen the young lady—as this fellow Cowan, or Hartigan, tried his best to shuffle me off, and I'd cer- tainly like to get my hands on him. "Corcoran has begun at the wrong end—the police generally do; all they count on is bull-headed luck." FACING ANOTHER TRAGEDY 113 "How would you proceed?" "First, locate the grandfather. Once you reach him you block the entire game. Of course, that might not save the girl, and then again it might. Those fellows will hardly resort to murder unless it serves their end. "They are more likely to turn her loose and skip. My idea is that if we find the victim we'll get our hands on the female who is pretending to be his granddaughter. If she proves to be the regular thing, she'll squeal to save herself—they're all yellow—and then we'll have Almerido and company fairly in the net.'' "I understand that—but who is he?" "There are ways to find that out. Search the mar- riage registers of twenty years ago. If that fails, as it probably will, for likely enough this was a runaway match, then make a house-to-house canvass along the North Shore. You're bound to pick up the trail eventu- ally." He paused, then continued: '' I hardly believe that will involve much work, Wayne, if it is done right. Whoever the man is, he was certainly an old resident; doubtless his house was built forty or fifty years ago. "So it will not be far out—somewhere in the old dis- trict. I 'd start in at Lake Shore Drive, and work north. I'll furnish a good man for that job, if you don't care to do it yourself." "Are you going to be busy ?'' "For a day or two—yes," and he lit a cigar, pushing back his chair from the table. "Come into the den, while we talk it over more confidentially." He glanced over his shoulder. "Simpson has been with me quite a while, but is un-; 114 THE PATHWAY OF ADVENTURE duly curious at times, and gets on my nerves; we'll be alone in there." He closed the door and sank comfortably back into a Morris chair. His face looked tired and worn in the bright light, but his eyes had lost none of their brilliancy. "Take another cigar, Wayne. I'm suddenly up against an odd case myself. I haven't said anything about it yet, for I haven't figured it out in my own mind. However, I feel like talking about it to-night, and perhaps, being a novelist, you may advance some idea of value. You read about the Continental Factory fire?" "I saw the evening paper; it had no details—merely suggested it might be a German plot." '' That was the talk, but I hardly believe there is any- thing to it. Incendiary, no doubt of that; and the plant was making shells for the English army. At first I thought that was the origin; but now I am looking for some other purpose. Did the paper speak of Cul- lom's death?" "In connection with the fire? No. Who was Cul- lom?" "Patrick Lloyd Cullom. What, man—you never heard of old 'Pig Iron' Cullom? He has been a famous character in this town for fifty years or more. The papers are always writing him up. '' Heaven only knows how many millions he's got, but he has interests in practically every iron and steel mill in, the Middle West. The Continental Iron Factory was his principal plant here in Chicago. He was president of the company, and had an office out there. "Well, he died during the fire; funny the papers didn't get hold of it, but probably they went to press FACING ANOTHER TRAGEDY 115 too early. When I got there they had picked up his body and laid the old man out on a sofa in his private office. "They told me it was an accident. No one seemed to know exactly how it occurred. He was alone when the fire-alarm sounded, and apparently rushed out and started down the stairs. He must have fallen, for they found him lying in a heap at the bottom—dead. The top of his head was crushed where he struck the cement walk below." "Nobody witnessed the accident?" "Not a one, so far as I could learn; their interest was all concentrated on the fire.'' "But what was there particularly strange about that, Dan?" "Nothing; in fact I hardly gave it a thought at the time, for I had been sent to investigate the cause of the fire. There was some delay in getting an undertaker, and the body was still there when I came back to the ofiice. "A policeman I knew was guarding the door, and something impelled me to take a look at the body. I went in alone; the window curtains had been drawn, and it was quite dark inside; but I ran one up, and had plenty of light. I had met the old man several times, and rather liked him, in a way—he was gruff and ec- centric, but square and a good fighter. "Perhaps that memory caused me to smooth down his gray hair and rearrange the rumpled collar of his coat. Wayne—Patrick Cullom was murdered; he was a dead man before his body ever fell down those stairs.'' CHAPTER XI 83 PARK GROVE AVENUE Wayne started in surprise at these unexpected words, leaning forward to stare into Stiles's face. "Murdered! Are you sure?" "No; not absolutely sure. I had no time in which to make certain. I had hardly made the discovery which aroused my suspicions when some member of the dead man's family came into the room, and I felt bound to withdraw—one was an old woman, the other much younger; both seemed deeply affected." "But what was it you found, Dan?" "A slight puncture back of the ear, such as might have been made by a hatpin. Even the physician who had examined him had failed to notice it, which was not strange, as it was concealed by the hair. Only my at- tempt to rearrange the locks revealed its presence to me. "Indeed, it could scarcely be perceived, but I noticed a slight swelling there, and examined rather closely to ascertain the cause. At first I supposed it a mere bruise received when he fell, and should have passed it off as that, but for a small amount of black, resinous sub- stance that seemed foreign to a bruise. "The amount of this was very small, merely such as might have been pressed off the pin, as it penetrated the flesh, but was thick and gummy; I had to pick it off with my thumb-nail, and its removal revealed the punc- ture." 116 118 THE PATHWAY OF ADVENTURE I learn what this peculiar substance is—but I am going to satisfy myself before Patrick Cullom is buried." He got up and walked restlessly about the room, smok- ing furiously. "It is too late to-night, and I am dead tired; but the first thing to-morrow I propose taking this sample to the city physician for analysis. Of course, if it proves to be non-injurious, a mere natural result of such a wound, then my theory fails; for it might be possible that in falling Cullom had struck the point of a nail. "Anyhow. I should have no proof of foul play—but I cannot get the other suspicion out of my mind. How- ever, I am too tired and sleepy to even think straight." "Which means," said Wayne, rising, "that you would thank me to depart. All right, Dan, although I doubt if I sleep at all. I cannot drive that poor girl from my mind." "Use your will-power, man. There is nothing you can hope to accomplish to-night, because you have no foundation whatever to work on. The very best service you can render her will be to rest yourself, and then to-morrow start out afresh on the lines of investigation I have indicated. '' There is no mystery in detective work, Wayne—it re- quires simply the" exercise of thought, patience, and a fair amount of courage—a little luck, perhaps, but that is never to be counted on. "I'll help you all I can; but this investigation you had better make alone. Call me up in case of a discov- ery. Simpson, Mr. Wayne's hat and stick." It was midnight when Wayne retired, and the hours until morning were restless ones, although they brought him a measure of sleep. !He realized the truth of what 83 PARK GROVE AVENUE 119 Stiles had said—the utter uselessness of blindly hoping to solve this mystery through mere good fortune. It must be dug out little by little, through routine work. Whatever might occur to Zaida Grayson in the mean- while, his only possible course of action lay through in- telligent, patient effort. He could hope to serve her in no other way. Wayne was surprised at the depth of Ms own interest in the case; the strength of his determi- nation to solve it. He made no effort to analyze his feelings, nor did he even connect the extent of his aroused interest with the girl herself. He endeavored to detach her from his memory, and sought to view the case merely from a pro- fessional standpoint. As a novelist it naturally interested and fascinated him; he felt compelled to bring it to a satisfactory con- clusion. He argued this out in his own mind, yet deep down in his consciousness remained aware that a certain winsome face was ever before him. Try as he would, there was no banishing of the girl; no possibility of keeping her out of the picture. He had been interested in Stiles's story, and the strange circumstances involving the sudden death of Patrick Cullom, yet scarcely gave it another thought after he reached his own rooms. His whole mind was so centered upon this earlier case. in which he already had a part, as to leave him indif- ferent to all others. He was himself part of a tragedy, a cog in the wheel of crime, and no outside incident could swerve him from duty. It was the appeal of Zaida Grayson's eyes, the trust expressed by her voice, which he could not escape; unfalteringly he must continue to serve her. He began his day's work confidently, but ended it in 120 THE PATHWAY OF ADVENTURE disappointment. The examination of files in the mar- riage bureau at the city hall was utterly fruitless. He scanned the long list of names running back thirty years, but found no Grayson among them. Evidently, as Stiles had surmised, the couple had been married outside the city, a runaway match. Nothing remained for him to do but to patiently canvass the resi- dential district along the Lake front. He dreaded the unpleasant task, but, having put his hand to the plow, had no intention now of turning back. And he meant to do it himself, for in no other way would he be satisfied of its thoroughness. He had dinner alone at the club, glancing over the evening paper as he waited to be served. The principal item of interest was the death of Patrick Cullom, and the probable distribution of his millions. The death was treated as an accident, no reference being made to pos- sible foul play, so evidently Stiles's mysterious black substance had proved of no moment. Wayne merely glanced over the account, hastily, after ascertaining this silence, feeling small concern, bearing away with him a jumbled list of large investments, and a will of numerous bequests, largely to religious institu- tions, outside of a few immediate relatives. He saw in these nothing of interest, but at the close of his meal called up Stiles, thinking he might have another report from Corcoran. Simpson answered, with the statement that his master had been out all day, and had not returned. No, he had no knowledge where Mr. Stiles was, or when he would be back; there had been no telephone message from the chief. Wayne possessed no real hope there would be, yet he hung up the receiver with a sense of discouragement. 83 PARK GROVE AVENUE 121 There was nothing for him to do but to go home. The deserted study was a lonely place, but he changed into a comfortable lounging-jacket, lit a cigar, and made an effort to resume work at the desk. To concentrate was impossible; a few lines, and the pencil dropped from his fingers—it seemed such poor, miserable work, this attempt to imagine, when he was actually confronted by such serious facts. A woman's very life depended on his action, and it was such a paltry thing to make his puppet characters perform, while she remained un- defended, left alone to her fate. The thought sickened him, filled his mind with disgust; his whole soul revolted at the task, and he pushed the pad of paper back out of sight. He was seated there mo- tionless, staring at the darkened window, seeing against the black pane the dim outlines of a face, when the tele- phone bell rang. Stiles, no doubt; it would be no one else at this hour. He placed the receiver at his ear expectantly. "This is Stuart Wayne." "How fortunate to find you," said a voice, plainly au- dible, and instantly sending through him a tingle of recollection. "You may not recognize my voice; I am Zaida Grayson." "But I did recognize it," he hastened to assure her. "I have been searching for you all day. Where are you?" "I may tell you that later," she answered; "but first I must speak to you of something else. I am grateful for your interest, Mr. Wayne, but it is useless to search for me. You know enough to be aware that I dare not converse with you freely over the wire?" "I can, at least, imagine that may be true." 83 PARK GROVE AVENUE 123 the hands of that unscrupulous gang, for unquestionably it was her voice he had just listened to. He could not be deceived as to that; no other voice would ever sound like hers to his ears. And he possessed infinite trust in her; in confidence he would place his life in her hands. Strange as this request was, he had given her his pledge, and would redeem it. The question came, why should she have asked this—that he come alone; that he tell no friend of his mission? Indeed, why should she send for him at all? But he brushed them all aside as unworthy, as cow- ardly, as unjust to her. He would go, let the result prove what it might; and he would go clean and in honor. There must be a reason for secrecy which would all be explained when they met. So certain was he of this, so relieved at the outcome, so happy at the thought of meeting with her again, his spirits became boisterous and boyish. He whistled and sang as he dressed, eager to be on his way. The un- expectedness of the message awakened his imagination, and there was a kindly friendliness to the voice over the wire which stimulated. He was to see her alone, and learn all; she had turned to him the moment she dared; she held him her friend in whom to confide. There remained no question of doubt in his mind when he left the room; all the au- dacity and courage of youth had come back—yet he re- tained sufficient judgment to slip an automatic pistol into his pocket, and leave a brief sealed note on his desk. In spite of Zaida's cordial words and gentle voice over the phone, he could not blot out entirely the recollec- tion of Almerido and Cowan; they still lurked in the 124- THE PATHWAY OF ADVENTURE background and might have to be reckoned with. It was as well to be prepared for any emergency. It was a dark, gloomy night, and, by the time he reached the loop, a light drizzle was falling, making walk- ing exceedingly disagreeable. He caught a North State Street car, and settled down into a corner seat, relying on the promise of the conductor to notify him when it was time to alight. That functionary, however, carried him a block beyond his destination, and he tramped back that distance in what had developed into a steady rain. The streets were sodden and black, almost deserted of pedestrians even at that early hour. A belated delivery truck from some department-store passed, slushing through the pools of water standing on the pavement, and a policeman, his rubber coat glistening in the glare of the street lamp, walked along the opposite curb. Wayne, with coat-collar upturned and face lowered to protect it from the rain, hurriedly turned into Park Grove avenue. It was a black cavern of a street, yet the houses on either side were of a solid, substantial kind, giving it an air of safe respectability. If any suspicion lingered in his mind that he might be spied upon, it was entirely dissipated by the certainty that no one moved along the block except himself. There was no difficulty in locating the number he sought—the black lettering on the transom over the front door being plainly illuminated by a light burning within. The appearance of the house added immeasurably to his stock of courage, it was so evidently the abode of wealth, standing rather isolated from its neighbors in the pro- tection of an immaculately trimmed hedge; a large square house of stone, having a wide veranda, with a carriage 83 PARK GROVE AVENUE 125 drive at one side—just such a home as a man of means would erect in the seventies. Wayne, as he paused an instant in the hedge shadow, partially protected from the rain, felt no doubt but this was the residence he had been seeking to trace. Zaida, unaided, must have escaped her captors and fled here for protection; sending for him the instant she felt free to do so. How widely different from their other meeting this would prove! Eager to hear her story, he advanced boldly up the steps, and pushed the bell-button. A little man in blue livery and silver buttons opened the door, bowing silently as Wayne mentioned his name, indicating his entry. The door closed, and he found himself standing in a wide hall, plainly but handsomely furnished. The little man bowed again, his hand waving Wayne to the left. "Miss Grayson will be down presently, sir," he said. "If you will wait in the drawing-room I will inform her of your presence. Yes, sir, certainly—your coat, sir." It was a large, imposing apartment that Wayne en- tered, richly carpeted in the old style, the furniture massive, the windows heavily draped. A glittering chan- delier hung from the center ceiling, but only two globes emitted light, yielding a dim, cathedral illumination to the room, in which nothing appeared distinct. Indeed, the young man advanced almost to the open fireplace, in which there was a dull glow of coals, staring curiously about him at the great variety of pictures deco- rating the walls, before becoming aware that he was not alone. He heard the steps of the doorman ascend the stairs, and then suddenly a vaguely revealed figure arose from 126 THE PATHWAY OF ADVENTURE a sofa and stood, bowing politely, under the softened rays of light. "Senor Wayne, I make eet to be," a familiar voice said in broken English. "I make eet ze introduction— I, Juan Almerido."