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Lev is cº-





HIDDEN EYES


HID DEN EYES
By
ERIC LEWISON /
|
with Frontispiece by
SIDNEY RIESENBERG
INDIANAPOLIS
THE BOBBS-MERRILL COMPANY
PUBLISHERS
Cºvvvur.


CoPYRIGHT 1918
THE FRANK. A. MUNSEY CoMPANY
CopyRIGHT 1920
THE Bobbs-MERRILL ComPANY
T.J.C. IC . . . RY
2434.65A
As Tor, Lºnºx AND
TILDEN FOUNDATIONS
R 1923 L
---
Printed in the United States of America
- - - - - - - - - PR-es of
-
‘. . . . . . . . . arraunworth & Co.
- - - - - - - - sook Manufacture Re
- - - - - - - - BrookLYN. N. W.
- - - --
:*:: - -
--- e. - T --
- - - - -
* - - -- -
-- --- -
- - - - - -
* -- ---- -
- - - - - -
- - - - - - - - -
-


§
:
|
To
MY FRIEND
DOCTOR HERRMAN H. HARRIS


º


CONTENTS
CHAPTER
I THE ROBBERY . . . . . . . .
II A LEAD . . . . . . . . . .
III CHECK . . . . . . . . . .
IV THE LAUNCH . . . . . . . .
V THE SEcond VISITATION . . . .
VI Doctor LESTER MAKES A BET . . .
VII AN UNPROFESSIONAL VISIT . . .
VIII THE THIRD VISITATION .
IX SUGGESTION . . . . .
X THORNTon HAs A Touch of MALARIA
XI THE FourtH VISITATION . . .
XII IGNORING HIs FRIENDs . . . . .
XIII THORNTon HAs AN INSPIRATION . .
XIV LIGHT OR DARK CLoTHEs . . .
XV THE DoctoR THREATENs . . . .
XVI RALBY LENDs A HAND . . . . .
XVII THE IRREFUTABLE FACT . . . .
XVIII JAckson OBSERVES A PHENoMENoN
XIX RALBY ELUCIDATEs . . . . .
XX WITH THE Goods . . . . . . .
XXI To THE REscue . . . . . . .
XXII THE DOCTOR MAKES A PROMISE . .
XXIII THE STRING To IT . . . . . .
XXIV PROVING THE PUDDING . . . . .
PAGE
16
31
61
72
106
123
138
151
165
181
194
208
218
231
244
259
273
288
304
319
333





HIDDEN EYES
CHAPTER I
THE ROBBERY
HE heavy-faced chief of detectives reached
Tº: for the jangling telephone on his
desk, and, without removing his cigar, grumbled
into the transmitter:
“Headquarters!”
Then a look of amazement supplanted the irritable
gleam in his eyes. He leaned forward and jerked
the cigar from his mouth.
“What?” He bellowed the question and slid for-
ward eagerly to the edge of his chair. “Disap-
peared? Sa-a-ay, what 'r' you givin' me?” His face
stiffened suddenly. “Oh, er—all right, Mr. Hayes.”
Profound respect replaced the incredulity in his
voice. “Yes, sir, I’ll wait.”
He replaced the receiver on the hook and his eyes
roved about the office.


2 HIDDEN EYES
“Great sufferin' mackerel!” he whispered in awe,
straightening slowly in his chair.
He jabbed hurriedly at a button on his desk, and
addressed the uniformed officer who entered:
“Who’s here?”
“Riley and Franklin, sir.”
“Franklin P Good. Send him in.” The chief
picked up the cigar he had laid aside as a plain-
clothes man entered, and took the chair to which the
chief waved an imperious hand.
“You watched 'em put that vault in the Second
National, didn't you?”
Franklin nodded.
“Stayed with it all the time.”
The chief bit down on his cigar.
“Burglar-proof vault, ain't it?”
Franklin grinned.
“Lightning-proof, Chief!”
The chief eyed the man before him.
“Umph!” he grunted skeptically. “How'd you
like to tackle the job of breaking into it?”
Franklin's grin expanded and ended in a laugh.
Evidently it pleased the chief to be facetious.
“I don't know that I'd mind trying it, Chief—
with a ton of dynamite!” he chuckled.


THE ROBBERY 3
“Who else was watching it?”
“Who else?” The plain-clothes man's chuckle
ended abruptly. “You mean when they placed it?
Nobody; that is, I didn't—”
“Well, somebody did, and we’ve got to get a line
on him, and get it quick.”
Franklin leaned forward interestedly.
“Yeh? What's up?”
“Twenty-five thousand dollars in currency dis-
appeared out of that vault last night,” advised the
chief grimly. -
“Twenty-five thou—” gasped the astonished de-
tective. “Not a yegg's job.”
“Evidently not,” nodded the chief. “It was dis-
covered when the vault was opened this morning.
I just got the notice from the Second's president.
He's coming down and—”
The uniformed officer reentered.
“Mr. Hayes of the Second National,” he an-
nounced. n
The bank official followed close on the heels of
the officer. The chief rose to greet him.
“Glad to see you, Mr. Hayes; have a seat, sir.
Mr. Hayes, this is Ben Franklin; he was detailed
when they installed that vault of yours.”


4. HIDDEN EYES
The banker nodded shortly to Franklin and
turned again to the chief.
“Well?” The chief's monosyllable was expres-
sive.
“As I told you over the phone, Chief,” the banker
g
began, “we had a package of twenty-five thousand
dollars, small denomination currency, in the vault.
Put it there last night; in the outside vault; it came
in late. We were to send it down the state this
morning to pay off the turpentine hands near Mana-
tee. This morning it was gone.”
“Who opened the vault?” The chief's question
was purely a formal one.
“Kingsley, the vice-president, and Harkiss, the
cashier—you know them. This new Defy vault
works with a double combination. I have them both,
but Harkiss and Kingsley have only one each. Both
of them must be there to open the thing. The time
lock was set for eight-thirty, as usual.”
“And there was no sign of anything having
been—”
“None; absolutely none!” The banker antici-
pated the chief's question.
“H-m. You're sure the package went into the
vault.”


THE ROBBERY 5
“I put it there,” answered the bank president
simply. “Harkiss was with me. Went out to the
house with me, in fact, to talk over the new govern-
ment loan; and stayed there all night. We came
down together this morning.”
“Of course, I’d no thought of Mr. Kingsley or
Mr. Harkiss,” the chief smiled apologetically.
“This town has known both of 'em long enough to
be certain what they are.”
The banker nodded.
“But somebody—somebody last night opened that
vault.”
“Opened it?” Franklin interjected. “Opened it
and closed it?” The detective made small effort to
hide his growing disbelief. “Say, that ain't possible.
Why, I–”
The chief ended the expostulation with a wave of
his hand.
“You’ve got old Jensen for a watchman, haven't
you?”
“Had him ever since he retired from the force,
and his time-clock by the vault shows that he was
there every half-hour. Nor was he ever out of the
building; he's watching the entire building, you
know.”


6 HIDDEN EYES
The chief nodded.
“Of course, you don't want any publicity about
this—” he began.
The banker waved an expressive hand.
“It doesn't matter,” he said shortly. Then: “Of
course, the loss of the money hurts, but the Second
National can replace it easily enough.” A note of
pride sounded in the man's voice. “What I want to
know,” he finished, “is how we can be certain that
this same man can not go into our vault at will—
any time—opening it as easily as though it were a
tin box, and not the latest word in vault construc-
tion?”
“Say,” cut in the detective again querulously,
“how could anybody—”
“That is just what I wish to discover, Mr. Frank-
lin,” the banker broke in coldly.
“Have you seen any of the safe people?” ques-
tioned the chief.
The bank official shook his head.
“Not yet; you advise it?”
The chief frowned.
i “I don't know—a factory man, perhaps. How
was that vault set, Franklin?”
“In eight feet of solid concrete, three sides, top


8 HIDDEN EYES
“We three; Harkiss and Kingsley.”
“Maybe we'd better keep it to ourselves a while,”
suggested the chief.
“Whatever you say.” The banker nodded agree-
ment.
The car moved rapidly up an avenue, turned into
a crowded, building-lined street, and came to rest
before a ten-story building, the home of the Second
National Bank of Jacksonville.
Not without some cause did the Second National
boastfully proclaim in its advertisements that its
banking house was second to none south of the
Mason-Dixon Line, and the first in Florida. Other
banks in Jacksonville might lay claim to a larger
capitalization; might boast of a larger figure to rep-
resent the amount of loans outstanding, but none
could point to the structure which housed it, and
show a more businesslike and modern banking floor
than the Second National.
A month previous, the officers of the bank
received the congratulations of the city and the
newspapers on the installation of the latest model
burglar-proof, fire-proof, “everything-proof,” as
one would-be wit of a reporter termed it, Defy steel
vault.


THE ROBBERY 9
The papers, quick to laud what they praised as
“up-to-dateness,” held up the Second National Bank
as a model institution, boasting that nowhere else
in the South, not even in New Orleans, Birming-
ham or Atlanta, could there be found a more mag-
nificent and pleasing banking floor, nor a better
equipped and better officered organization.
The vault had been a seven-day wonder when it
was placed, for the curious were barred from the
building, and the workmen—all brought down from
the Defy factory—worked behind a board wall that
baffled the curious eyes of passers-by. With the
workmen had been detailed a plain-clothes man, less
because it seemed necessary than to add a touch of
“official supervision” to the work.
The Defy vault, so the papers had said, was the
last word in construction. The huge, circular door,
which inspired a feeling of utter safety, was opened,
first by aid of a time lock, which, at a certain hour,
permitted the working of the double combinations.
The combinations, two in number, were independent
of each other; one a number combination, and one
a word.
Even the builders themselves did not know them,
for the combinations were set by the president of


10 HIDDEN EYES
the bank, and by his two officers; Kingsley, the vice-
president, assisting with the number combination,
and Harkiss, the cashier, with the word combina-
tion.
The steel of the vault defied the inventions of
science to pierce it; short of literally blowing the
vault to pieces.
The most expert safe men in the country had
stood before a replica of this same vault, and tried,
with all means at their command, to effect an en-
trance into it. The exhibition was staged at the
Defy factory, and the experts' failures had fur-
nished many columns of advertising for the manu-
facturers.
It was impervious to the oxy-acetylene blowpipe,
and heat served only to throw into operation the
sensitive plates, cunningly hidden in the metal,
which, in turn, operated the electric alarm connected
with police headquarters, the office of the chief of
detectives, and the home of President Hayes.
Drills blunted against the vault's eight-ply nick-
eled surface, and acids flowed as harmlessly as so
much water from its door. As near as could be,
the vault of the Second National Bank of Jackson-
ville was proof against burglars, fire and the ele-


12 HIDDEN EYES
found only the reflecting, solid, impassable adaman-
tine steel meeting their scrutiny.
Finally the chief turned to Franklin; but Ben
Franklin, usually more than ready to venture an
opinion—and a good one—only shook his head.
“It just naturally ain't possible, Chief.”
The chief grinned sourly.
“Huh ! But it was done.”
They followed the banker from the vault and
made their way into his private office.
“Just one thing, gentlemen,” urged the financier;
“don’t let the papers know the amount of the loss,
should they learn something and come to you.
They'll hardly magnify it, knowing nothing, and
I’d rather—” he eyed the chief speculatively, leav-
ing the sentence unfinished.
The chief frowned.
“The Southern National is installing one of these,
isn’t it?”
The president shook his head.
“A Defy vault, yes; but a much smaller one; one
of the old kind.”
“I think,” began the chief, “I think I'll get in
touch with the factory and see—no, by George!”
He broke off with the ejaculation.


THE ROBBERY 13
“Yes?” The banker was eager.
But the chief only frowned.
“No, I think I'll wait a day or two,” he added
slowly. “There's no use raising the devil until we
have to.”
And a moment later the two detectives turned
from the building, crossed Laura Street and made
their way toward Hemming Park. Near the cor-
ner of Adams the chief turned to Franklin.
“There's one man,” he nodded, “one man who
might be able to work this thing out. I mean Hal-
vey Thornton.”
Franklin's face lighted.
“By heavens, yes! Know him, Chief?”
“Um! No,” grunted the chief, as the two men
crossed the park toward the St. James Building.
“He’s a steel man, though, and now and then one
of the papers boosts him up.”
Franklin nodded.
“I know him, and say! what he don't know about
steel ! And he's forgot more about vaults than we'll
ever know.” Franklin hurried along at the chief's
side. “At least he'll be mighty interested,” he
agreed. “And he's a dandy fellow, Chief. Office
next to Doctor Lester's. I see him once in a while.”


14 HIDDEN EYES
“Was he ever around when the vault was assem-
bled?” the chief questioned slowly.
The detective nodded.
“He’d drop in now and then to kid me along.”
The chief frowned.
“A chemist, ain't he?”
Franklin nodded again.
“Yep; working on some steel problem for a Bir-
mingham company; I’ve heard him talking to Doc-
tor Lester about it.”
“That's the man I want to see!” The chief
clipped off his words sharply. “Maybe he knows a
little too much about—metal.”
Franklin eyed his superior.
“You don't really believe that anybody without
the combinations got into that vault, do you?”
The chief stopped.
“Just get that idea out of your nut,” he de-
manded. “That vault was opened all right; I'll take
Hayes' word for it. And whoever opened it knows
a blamed sight more about steel vault construction
than is good and healthy for a crook.”
At the entrance to the building the two men
stopped a moment, and Franklin eyed his chief with
an expression but little short of disgust.


THE ROBBERY 15
“Say, what's the big idea?” he demanded. “Ain’t
it occurred to you, Chief, that the man who copped
that money knew it was there?”
The chief passed a thoughtful hand over his chin.
“H-m. That is so. It was unusual, the money
being there—wasn't it? That's what Hayes said.”
The detective smiled superiorly.
“As for this Thornton chap—wait till you meet
him. He's harmless.”
The chief's eyes darted a look of interest at
Franklin, who pushed through the swinging doors.
“Too certain,” muttered the chief thoughtfully,
as he followed, “too damned certain.”


CHAPTER II
A LEAD
D. EDWARD LESTER sat hunched
comfortably in a huge chair in his private
office, reading industriously. Now and then he
scratched his head thoughtfully, as though puzzled,
and twice he looked up, staring long and abstract-
edly at a framed motto above his desk which bore
the one word: “Think.”
The word, however, hardly impinged on his con-
sciousness, for he was evidently deeply engrossed
in the huge volume that lay outspread on his knees.
The office girl tiptoed lightly through the room
and into the laboratory beyond, passing close to the
huge bulk of the man in the chair, but he paid no
attention, muttering thoughtfully to himself, his
eyes fixed on the book before him. For an instant
the girl hesitated in the doorway and gazed smil-
ingly at the oblivious man in the chair.
Such friends as the big doctor had swore by him
with all earnestness. There was something more
16


A LEAD 17
than lovable in the heavy-faced man, whose little
black eyes, peering intently from their puffy, fat
lids, seemed always to see something just a little re-
moved from the actual.
His clothes he wore patently to hide his naked-
ness; certainly for no vain purposes of adornment,
for they hung from his massive frame with a ludi-
crous air of having been flung on haphazard. His
coat-pockets bulged chronically with half-empty
packages of his favorite Virginia cigarettes, and
more often than not, cigarette ashes decorated the
front of his weirdly colored shirts.
The doctor looked up from his reading, stared a
moment at the girl, then shook his head heavily.
“Did I forget something, Mae?”
The girl laughed.
“Not that I can think of,” she replied. “I just
wanted to cut off the heat from the sterilizer.”
The big doctor nodded, and almost immediately
immersed himself in the book before him.
Returning through the office, the girl hesitated a
moment, and, as the doctor continued his reading,
pushed sharply against a chair.
A heavy forefinger descended on the doctor's
book to mark the place and he raised his eyes.


18 HIDDEN EYES
“Now what's up your sleeve?” he grumbled.
The girl extended her bare arms laughingly in
evidence.
“No sleeves even,” she mocked.
The doctor hoisted himself groaningly to his feet.
“Well, what's it all about, Mae? You might as
well tell me what's worrying you, and have done
with it.”
The girl grew serious.
“I'm—I’m going to get married.”
“In the name of all the gods at once!” The doc-
tor's little eyes grew large. “What for?”
“What does anybody get married for?” the girl
countered, and the doctor's vast bulk shook with a
soundless laugh.
“Don’t ask me,” he rumbled, “I’m not married,
am I?”
“Just the same, I wanted to tell you I'm going to
leave—next month.”
The doctor cocked his head grotesquely to one
side and eyed the girl before him.
“Say, what's going to become of this office, you
reckon?”
The girl shook her head.
“It isn't that bad, Doctor Lester, and you know


A LEAD 19
it. Besides, it will be more than a month probably
before I—”
The doctor lowered himself into his chair.
“Thank the Lord for small blessings,” he grum-
bled. “I might die of apoplexy in the meantime;
that's one consolation.” He picked up the book
again. “Now let me finish this chapter, and don't
let anybody pester me—hear?”
The girl turned to the door which led into the
reception-room. Even before it was closed the doc-
tor's heavy head was sunk once more on his chest,
and the words before him occupied his entire
thoughts.
For a half-hour he read industriously, stopping
only to light and relight cigarettes.
He sighed hugely as he came to the end of the
chapter, then raised his head as the door opened and
there appeared on the threshold a young man over
whose coatless shirt, and to his knees, extended a
leather apron, stained and burned. In the man's
hand were a pair of huge goggles which he jerked
nervously by a cord.
“Oh, hello, Hal; come in.”
Halvey Thornton entered.
“Lord, Lester, you dig yourself in as though you


20 HIDDEN EYES
had a thousand-dollar fee in view. I've been wait-
ing outside for fifteen minutes, and that girl of
yours”—here the girl passed through the office.
“Here, Mae!” Thornton's voice was laughingly
complaining. “Why didn't you tell me there wasn't
any one in here with the bear?”
The girl turned and laughed.
“You said you didn't want to be bothered, didn't
you, Doctor?”
And Doctor Lester, putting aside his book,
chuckled as he nodded.
“What can I do for you, Hal?” grumbled the
doctor good-naturedly, as the girl passed into the
laboratory.
“You can lend me a couple of test-tubes; my
fingers are all thumbs this morning, and I’ve broken
a half-dozen tubes, more or less.”
“Help yourself.” The doctor replaced the book
in its case and as Thornton turned into the labora-
tory, he stretched his huge bulk yawningly and fol-
lowed:
“Still working on the steel, Hal?”
Thornton, running an appraising eye over a rack
of test-tubes, nodded slowly.
“Yes, but I'm not making progress.”


A LEAD 21
The doctor lighted a cigarette.
“Rome wasn't built in a day,” he grunted. “That
mercurial solution—any 'count at all?”
Thornton shook his head.
“Absolutely no good.” And he frowned thought-
fully. “Dog-gone it, Lester, I'm more tempted than
ever to chuck the whole business. I feel like a
rotter taking the company's salary and turning out
nothing. A fine job to give a man, isn't it?”
The doctor chuckled and nodded.
“You should worry about the company,” he
rumbled. “If they're a lot of asses, what do you
care?”
“Just the same,” the younger man went on, “it’s
a silly proposition. For a while I thought I was on
the track of it, but Moses himself can't treat iron
and make steel of it, Why, man, it's the very bulk
of that Bessemer steel that makes it worth while.
Oh,” and he waved an all-embracing arm, “it’s
asinine! How the devil can a man cut the thickness
of a metal in half and still have the same resistancy
and strength?”
The doctor grunted.
“That's your problem, isn't it? Why the Gloomy
Gus attitude all of a sudden?”


22 HIDDEN EYES
“Money, Lester. I’m just hard up, that's all.
Now, none of that—” as the doctor made a move-
ment toward his coat-pocket. “Keep your check-
book out of sight.”
The doctor shrugged and turned to his table as
Thornton continued:
“It isn't temporary relief I'm needing, Lester,”
and he smiled at the expression. “But I'm getting
nowhere, and a man my age ought to be accumulat-
ing a little, you know.”
Thornton hoisted himself to the edge of the oper-
ating-table and played thoughtfully with his glasses.
while the doctor turned to a microscope and lifted
the protecting bell-jar.
“Anything new with you, Lester?”
Doctor Lester selected a glass slide, held it to the
light to see that the smear thereon was even, then
passed the glass rapidly through the flame of a
Bunsen-burner to “fix” it.
“Is there ever anything new, Hal?” he questioned
in turn, as he carefully dropped methylene-blue stain
from a tiny dropper on to the glass slide. “If there
is, it doesn't happen in the St. James Building, nor
anywhere else in this beautiful city of Jacksonville-
on-the-St.-Johns.”


A LEAD 23
The doctor washed the stained glass carefully,
allowed it to dry between the blotting-pads, then,
gently placing a drop of cedar-oil in the exact center
of the tiny blue smear, he fitted the slide into the
holder, turned the lenses until the oil-immersion
lens rested over the slide, and, hunching over the
microscope, twisted the adjusting-screw.
In a moment he raised his head.
“If everything worked out as easily as that, Hal,”
he indicated the microscope, “we’d have a cinch,
and you'd make a million.”
Thornton smiled.
“And there are still a good many men, Lester,
who say the germ theory is all bosh!” Thornton's
brown eyes twinkled; he knew how to arouse the
huge, hulking medico, who seemed impossibly blasé
and calloused.
Doctor Lester snorted. -
“Umph! And the fools deny ocular proof. Any
man whose eyes aren't satisfied—” The doctor broke
off disgustedly.
The office girl passed the doorway, and the huge
doctor nodded after her heavily.
“There's another good girl gone flooey!”
Thornton's raised eyebrows expressed surprise.


24 HIDDEN EYES
“Mae? What's she up to? Wants to go in train-
ing, I suppose?”
The doctor shook his head.
“Naw. Married. That's worse. Seems there's a
gum-shoe man down at headquarters—Ben Frank-
lin—”
Thornton laughed.
“Gee, I am thick. That's what he's been hanging
around this floor so much for. And I thought he
was interested in steel vault construction!”
“Speaking of marriage,” began the doctor tenta-
tively, replacing the bell-jar over the microscope,
“it seems to me, Hal—speaking as a friend of all
**
concerned—that it's about time you and Isabel
A laughing voice in the doorway interrupted.
“Who's taking my name in vain?”
And into the room came a smiling, blue-eyed girl,
apparently in her early twenties, accompanied by a
well-built, impressive-looking man whose sharp
black eyes drifted quickly to Thornton, in his stained
leather apron, and to the doctor.
Doctor Lester nodded cordially.
“Come in—come in, Isabel, you're welcome.
You, too, Ralby.” He extended a fat hand to the
man who accompanied the girl.


A LEAD 25
“Are we breaking into a conference?” the girl
mocked, eying Thornton mischievously.
“Sufferin' mackerel, no! I was just trying to
cheer up our Gloomy Gus friend. He's as pessi-
mistic as a German philosopher this morning.”
The girl came around the table toward Thornton.
“That's not like you, Hal.”
Thornton turned to the window and stood gazing
out on the city beneath them.
“By the way, Ralby,” the doctor turned to the
man who had accompanied the girl. “Got a little
time? I’ve got something here I think would inter-
est you.”
The man addressed as Ralby glanced toward
Thornton and the girl, then nodded.
“Trot it out, Lester; I'm not exactly rushed to
death,” he laughed. “They're struggling along in
the office all right without me.” And he followed
the doctor into the adjoining office.
The girl turned to Thornton.
“What was he saying about me?” she demanded
smilingly.
Thornton grew suddenly embarrassed. “I—
really, I don't remember, Isabel—that is—”
“Never mind,” the girl laughed. “I’m not afraid


26 HIDDEN EYES
of any remarks Doctor Edward Lester might make.
Did you ever know a more wonderful man?”
Thornton smiled his appreciation.
“No, nor a grumpier one, and sloppy—ugh!” He
turned to the doctor's table and cleared away the
remains of the blue stain, the water and the blotting
pads.
“That's what makes him such a dear,” she said
finally. “He never seems to do anything right, but
he is a dandy, isn't he?”
Thornton nodded.
“Indeed, yes, and you've no idea how patiently he
helps struggling young chemists.”
“Meaning you?” The girl smiled at the thought
of Thornton's needing help.
He nodded and picked two test-tubes from the
rack before him.
“These are what I came to borrow,” he explained.
“Oh, but you aren't going to get away!” The
girl raised an admonishing finger. “You’re going
with me, and with Morton, to see his new launch.
We're to go as far as Ortega in her.”
Thornton shook his head, and a tiny frown ap-
peared on his face.
“Mighty nice of you to ask, Isabel, but you run


A LEAD 27
along with Ralby; he seems to be a gentleman of
leisure; I’m rather busy.”
The girl pouted.
“I will not,” she said; “besides, Morton is head
over heels in some case by now with the doctor;
let's sneak. I'd rather—rather—” the girl blushed,
“I’d rather talk to you anyway, and you never come
to see me any more.”
Thornton took an impulsive step toward her,
but drew up sharply.
“Shucks, Isabel; you know I want to come—”
“Well, why don't you?”
Through the open door behind them came the
doctor's heavy voice, rich in its southern brogue:
“A plain case of obsession—persecution-mania—
eh?”
And Ralby's close-clipped words in answer: “Evi-
dently. Have you tried psycho-analysis? How
about hypnosis?”
This was followed by the doctor's: “By jove,
Ralby! You're wasting your time monkeying with
real estate! Hypnosis; that's the thing—maybe I
can do something for the poor kid—”
Thornton and the girl drew nearer the window,
away from the open door.


28 HIDDEN EYES
“Why don't I?” Thornton repeated the question
inanely. “Oh-well, you see, Isabel—I—oh, I’ve
been busy; I guess that's it.”
The girl smiled quietly.
“That won't do, Halvey.” She shook her head.
“Morton's busy, too, yet he comes. And you even
cut my last dance.”
Thornton played with the test-tubes in his hand
in an embarrassed fashion.
“Oh, Morton! I'm afraid Ralby's not the busiest
man in Jacksonville, lady. He's almost never in his
office; goes around making calls with Lester, and
then—”
The office girl appeared in the doorway, and
Thornton turned, seemingly glad of the interruption.
“Want me, Mae?”
The girl nodded.
“I’m sorry—there's some one to see you. I heard
the knocking and looked—it's my—it's a man from
the police department and some one with him.”
Thornton nodded. “Thanks, Mae.”
He turned to the girl beside him. “You see,
Isabel, I am busy. And—thanks, lady, for missing
me.”
The girl smiled and shook her head. “No thanks


A LEAD 29
necessary, Mr. Chemist-who-is-always-busy—I'm
counting on you to-night? You're coming, aren't
you?” She extended a slim hand which Thornton
took in his own a moment.
“Well—thanks, Isabel—I—” he stuttered hope-
lessly, and the girl looked at him earnestly. This
was unlike him. Finally: “Yes, thanks, Isabel—I'll
be there,” he blurted, and hurried from the office.
In the hall he confronted Franklin.
“Howdy,” he greeted, and chuckled. “I’ve just
learned, young man, why you frequent this neigh-
borhood so much.”
A flush overspread the officer's face, but he turned
to his superior.
“Chief, this is Mr. Thornton. Mr. Thornton, the
chief.”
Thornton bowed and shook hands.
From the doctor's doorway Mae waved a fur-
tive greeting to the detective in the hall, who smiled
and waved his hat in answer, while the chief eyed
him heavily.
Thornton turned toward the girl in the doorway.
“Tell the doctor I'll drop in later,” he requested,
then turned smilingly to the man beside him.
“You wanted to see me, Chief ?”


30 HIDDEN EYES
The chief nodded.
“If you please, Mr. Thornton; and privately.”
Thornton opened his door.
“Step in, Chief,” he invited, and the chief of de-
tectives entered the office; nor did he fail to notice
the half-puzzled expression in Thornton's eyes.


CHAPTER III
CHECK
HORNTON dropped into a chair before a
T flat-topped desk, and waved his visitor into
a leather chair at the desk's side. He passed a humi-
dor of cigars, helped himself, extended a match to
the chief, and settled back in his chair.
The detective turned in the doorway.
“I’m going down the hall, Chief,” he mumbled;
“be right next door when you want me,” and he
left the room, his face a brick-red under the caustic
eyes of his superior.
“Well, Chief?”
The chief scrutinized the man in the chair before
him, and nodded slowly as though satisfied, in some
fashion, with Thornton's appearance, although that
young man did not take the examination coolly, and
fidgeted nervously under the chief's gaze.
“You’re by way of being a vault expert, ain't
you?”
The chief's eyes followed Thornton's gestures
31


* :
--
32 f HIDDEN EYES
closely, but saw only a mild interest in the face of
the young man before him.
“Well, not exactly an expert, Chief—but I know
a little about them.” Thornton smiled politely.
“Any information I can give you—”
The chief pondered a moment.
“You were connected with the Defy people once,
weren't you?”
Thornton shook his head.
“Connected? Hardly. They're using a patent of
mine on their newest vault; a synchronizing device
that makes the time-lock and double combinations
possible.”
“Pretty rotten crowd to deal with; those Defy
people, weren't they?” The chief stabbed blindly.
“I imagine they held you down pretty tight when it
came to talking terms.”
Thornton nodded.
“They did that, and no mistake. Still—” he
shrugged. “What I get, I get; otherwise, the thing
would have been a dead loss. But, they aren't ex-
actly pleasant to deal with.”
“Had some trouble with 'em about your patent,
didn't you?” The chief seemed weighing each word
carefully.


CHECK 33
Thornton nodded again.
“Didn't know any one knew about it,” he re-
marked quietly.
The chief chuckled.
“Oh, we know all sorts of things, young fel-
low. Believe me,” and the chief grinned expan-
sively, “there ain't much going on in Jacksonville
that I’m not wise to. Did the vault people come
across?”
“Come across?” Thornton wondered what the
chief was talking about, and that individual, scent-
ing an evident blunder, hurriedly added:
“I mean, you settled your differences all right,
didn't you?”
“Oh, as to that—yes. It wasn't of great conse-
quence.” Thornton shrugged. “They went to work
installing my device when I repeatedly told them 1
wasn't ready. I dropped the whole business, that's
all. Of course,” he added hastily, noting the chief's
manifest interest, “there's nothing really that they
can't do as well as I could, but—” he gestured with
his cigar.
“Yes? But—what?” The chief leaned forward.
Thornton's eyes narrowed.
“Mind telling me why you're so suddenly inter-


34 HIDDEN EYES
ested in this, Chief?” he asked mildly. “I settled
with the Defy people over a year ago, and it isn't
perhaps—”
The chief leaned closer to Thornton.
“That vault in the Second National,” he asked
carelessly, “know anything special about it?”
“Meaning—?” Thornton knocked the ashes from
his cigar, thoughtfully wondering to what all this
was leading.
“Oh, nothing special.” The chief leaned back in
his chair. “It’s a pretty good type of vault, ain't it?”
“The best on the market,” the other man agreed
enthusiastically. “I don't know of a better or a
more satisfactory type.”
“Equipped with one of your devices?” A nuance
of eagerness crept into the chief's disinterested
tones.
Thornton nodded. “Oh, yes; I watched the men
install that vault, by the way.”
“Well, young man”—the chief pointed his cigar
at Thornton and leaned forward—“that device of
yours don't work! There's a hole in it as big as the
St. Johns River.”
He watched Thornton sharply, but the younger
man's shrug seemed innocence itself.


* CHECK - 35
“I know it,” he commented briefly. “But how
do you?” Thornton sat straight in his chair.
“What's the idea, Chief? You didn't come here to
talk generalities, nor to discuss the merits of the
Second National's vault.”
For a minute the chief sat silent. Then he re-
moved his cigar, and his voice dropped as he said
very quietly:
“Happens that twenty-five thousand dollars dis-
appeared out of that Second National vault some
time last night, Mr. Thornton.”
“What!” Thornton's eyes grew large with sur-
prise.
The chief nodded slowly.
“I said it; twenty-five thousand, in currency.”
“And who—who—what—” Thornton stuttered
in his astonishment. “Blown up?” he questioned
incredulously.
The chief's reply was a look of disgust.
“Naw—opened.”
Thornton laughed shortly. -
“What's the joke, Chief?” he questioned mildly.
The chief snorted.
“Joke? A hell of a joke. It happened. And
what's more, I–’”


36 HIDDEN EYES
Thornton raised his hand.
“You mean to tell me that the vault in the Second
National Bank was opened and money stolen?” A
smile played over the young man's face. “Some-
body's been kidding you, Chief.”
“Then it's the president of the bank,” grunted the
chief, “and if you'd had a look at him you wouldn't
think he was kidding. Hayes ain't the kind to report
a twenty-five-thousand-dollar loss just for the fun
of it.”
“But who—” Thornton began, and the chief's
shrug interrupted.
“That's what I want to find out, Mr. Thornton.
I’ve come to you because I’ve been told you know
these vaults, and I want to know whether—well,
if you think it could be done?”
Thornton laid his cigar aside.
“Just a second, Chief; you're asking me seriously
if I think any one could open that Defy vault, work-
ing at night, and in one night? Lord, man, no!”
The chief nodded.
“Not workin’ all night either; the watchman came
'round every half hour.”
Thornton picked up his cigar again.
“Then, all I can say, Chief, is that you'd better


CHECK 37
look inside the vault for what's missing. My word
for it—it’ll be there.”
The chief shook his head slowly.
“But it isn't,” he insisted.
Thornton's gesture of impatience was manifestly
sincere.
“Let me tell you something, Chief.” He spoke
slowly, as a teacher would address a very stupid
pupil. “The best vault men in the country have
tried to get into a vault of this kind. They tried
in the open daylight, with everything from dynamite
and the oxy-acetylene blowpipe on down. And
they had half a day to work on it. I happened to
be there myself to watch the experiment. You read
of it probably, up at the Defy factory. And they
didn’t get in You can understand how I feel,
Chief, when you sit there and tell me a wild yarn
like that.”
“And I'll tell you this much,” the chief wagged
a minatory finger before Thornton's face. “The
Second National's vault was opened, and to hell
with your experts!” The chief's face purpled slowly.
A touch of color appeared in Thornton's face.
“Very well, Chief. You came to me for informa-
tion, and I give it. Now I'll tell you further that


38 HIDDEN EYES
whoever entered the vault of the Second National
Bank last night—as you say—entered by opening
the vault door in only one fashion; that is, by means
of the combinations!”
The chief puffed silently on his cigar, then shook
his head slowly.
“I beg your pardon, Mr. Thornton,” he grumbled.
“You see how I feel about this,” he added apolo-
getically; “that vault was got into; that's my only
information, and the three men who know the com-
binations, well, they're Hayes, Harkiss and Kings-
ley, and Harkiss was at Mr. Hayes' house all night.”
Thornton, mollified by the chief's tone, shrugged
slightly.
“About this—this imperfection?” the chief con-
tinued. “I mean in this device of yours; just what
is it?”
“Not such as to make burglary even remotely
possible,” Thornton answered quickly. “It isn't
really an imperfection, but it is something that
should be improved. It hasn't a thing to do with
the vault itself; it is in the time lock—in the clock,
that is.”
“In the clock?”
Thornton nodded again.


CHECK 39
“The clock depends on electricity for its winding
power; that's the trouble. It winds automatically
and only for one hour at a time, by my new tension
arrangement, without the usual springs. Shut off
the electricity and the clock stops—stops and drops
automatically into the time set for the vault to be
opened.”
“Just a minute.” The chief puzzled with the
idea, thoughtfully eying his cigar. “If you cut the
juice from the Second National's vault clock, the
mechanism immediately throws the clock to eight-
thirty?”
“If that is the time set—yes.” Thornton smiled
at the chief's expression of bewilderment.
“Then it ain’t got a thing to do with the opening
of the vault itself, this invention of yours?” He
seemed, somehow, disappointed.
“Just as I told you, Chief; it doesn't affect the
vault one way or another. The cutting off of the
power merely permits the working of the combina-
tions—not another thing.”
With a murmured request for permission, the
chief reached for the telephone and growled a num-
ber into the transmitter.
“Hello!” The chief frowned thoughtfully. “Get


40 HIDDEN EYES
me the superintendent. That you, Karks? Yes—
yes. Tell me, was your power shut off, even for
a second, any time last night? What's that? I
mean the up-town power, no, not the lights—hell,
I don't know. I mean the juice at-well, say, the
Second National Bank. All right, I'll hold the
wire.”
Holding the receiver, the chief turned to Thorn-
ton.
“I’ve got the power-house out in Springfield.
They'd know. Say, if the juice was cut off and
sent back on later, what'd happen?”
“If the power were turned on again, it would not
affect the clock,” Thornton explained. “The clock
stops, and the only way to start it is to open the
vault, close it, and reset the clock.”
The chief nodded and opened his mouth to speak
again—but turned instead to the telephone.
“Hello. Yes. All right, Karks. It was not, eh?
You're sure? All right, Karks, thanks. Naw, it's
not important, just wanted to know; s’long.”
He turned again to Thornton.
“That eliminates the clock.”
Thornton's eyes had narrowed puzzlingly, and
he was frowning thoughtfully before him.


CHECK 41
“There was power all night?”
The chief nodded.
“Then,” Thornton stated positively, “that makes
it doubly impossible. There's not a man in the
country who could get into that vault. I know it
couldn't be done with the power off, but with the
clock running—well—it just simply can’t be done,
that's all.”
The chief grinned slightly.
“Sounds fine, Mr. Thornton, but you're over-
looking the fact that it was done.”
Thornton turned to a cabinet beside his desk, and
drew from a flat drawer a series of blue-prints.
These he spread out on the desk before him.
“Take a look at these, Chief; here are your
measurements, and here,” he sought a moment
among the prints, “here's a cross-section of the
door; this one—” and he indicated a drawing.
“Now, honestly, Chief, does it look possible to you?”
The chief looked thoughtfully at the prints, al-
though the drawings meant little to him. After a
moment he shot a side glance at Thornton, and
pursed his lips thoughtfully.
“Mind telling me, Mr. Thornton, how you happen
by these prints?” The chief's voice was mildly in-


42 HIDDEN EYES
quiring, but the look in his eyes betrayed his keen
interest.
Thornton flushed slightly, but answered promptly:
“Of course not. Got them from the Defy people
after the work was installed. They had no need
for them, and I wanted a set—just to have in my
files, you know.”
The chief relighted his cigar.
“And there's no man—mind you, nobody you ever
heard of—who you think could open this Second
National box?”
Thornton studied the blue-prints before him, then
raised his eyes to the chief's.
“Well, it might sound silly, after what I’ve al-
ready said; but I’d like to tackle the job of getting
in there myself. Oh, not in a few minutes,” he
laughed at the chief's startled expression, “but I’d
like to have a week to try out the combinations,
that's all.”
The chief pondered this.
“But you don't really think you could do it?”
Thornton laughed outright. “Well, frankly, I
do, Chief, although I’ve been laughed at about it
before. The Defy people offered to let me try
when they carried on the experiments up north. I


CHECK 43
did try, as a matter of fact, but they'd bunged that
door up so it wasn't really a fair trial. Still, I
think if I had a week to work over that vault, undis-
turbed, I might be able to get into it.”
“You mean by working out the combinations?”
Thornton nodded, then waved his cigar in a dis-
missing gesture.
“But what's the use talking about it?”
The chief grunted.
“Oh, I don't know. I come in here and you tell
me that nobody in the world can work into the place,
and a minute later you turn around and say you
think you could do it yourself.” -
Thornton reddened. “That's what I get for
boasting,” he smiled ruefully.
“You don't know the safe-men, Chief. Ask any
one of them the questions you asked me and you'd
get the same answers. And talk to any of them
about vaults—except their own make, of course—
and you'll find them blowing that they can get into
anything from a two-by-four strong-box to the
vaults of the Bank of England.
“It’s just our way, I suppose, even though I'm
not the most expert safe-man in the country—not
by a blamed sight.”


44 HIDDEN EYES
The chief got slowly to his feet.
“Well, some one got in there, Mr. Thornton, and,
what's more, I’m going to find him.”
Thornton rose.
“You can count on any assistance I can give you,
Chief. I’d be mighty interested if you'll let me
help. But don't be too sure about it. I'm afraid
you'll find that Mr. Hayes is just mistaken, that's
all.”
The chief smiled grimly.
“Well, we'll see. I'm pretty sure, though, that
Hayes knows what he's talking about. By the way,
Mr. Thornton, the two combinations: what are
they?”
“The first a five-letter word, and the second a
five-figure number; that's the extent of my knowl-
edge, Chief. I don't know which comes first, or
whether they alternate, or anything else,”
The chief turned to the door.
“If you'll drop around this afternoon, Mr. Thorn-
ton,” he said slowly, “maybe I'll take you up on
that offer to help.” -
“Do. I’ll be glad to.” Thornton shook hands
with the detective, and turned to gather up his blue-
prints, which he replaced in their cabinet. “But,”


CHECK 45
and Thornton turned again to the chief, “I’m
mighty afraid you'll find that somebody's made a
bad bull somewhere.” He closed the print file with
a snap, and shook his head slowly. “That vault's
simply impregnable, Chief; that's all there's to it.”
And when the door closed behind him the chief
stood for a moment in the hallway, gazing abstract-
edly at the ground-glass panel of the door marked
“Halvey Thornton—Chemist.”
He stuck his cigar thoughtfully in one corner of
his mouth, and smiled slightly to himself: “Too
certain,” he grunted, “too damned certain.”


CHAPTER IV
THE LAUNCH
HE Brannon home, set far off on the Ortega
Road, some five miles from the city, shone
brilliantly, and the spacious grounds were crowded
with a moving throng of men and women.
Isabel Brannon's dances were important affairs
in the social life of Jacksonville; informal almost in
their frequency, but affairs to be looked forward to.
Here could be met, in the cool of the early eve-
ning, many whose names were written large in the
social and business register of the city, and the
broad veranda, which encircled the house, and which
faced, for a portion of its length, the swiftly moving
St. Johns River, had witnessed the beginning of
more than one important civic movement—and mat-
rimonial. -
To be counted among Isabel Brannon's regular
guests was in itself a badge of social distinction,
and to be an intimate of the circle was proof posi-
46


THE LAUNCH 47
tive of the possession of an intellect above the or-
dinary. -
Near a large sycamore on the lawn before the
house Max Railey, the youngest and most brilliant
prosecuting attorney that the city of Jacksonville
and the county of Duval had yet produced, held
forth oratorically in the center of an intensely inter-
ested crowd.
It was generally conceded that Railey's next step
was the mayor's chair; then Congress, and later per-
haps he would be Jacksonville's contribution to a
gubernatorial campaign, and after that—
At any rate, the powers that be in Florida poli-
tics hoped great things from the young prosecuting
attorney.
“And the sort of reform we need, we're going to
get; we'll get it, I tell you, if I have to go to Talla-
hassee and bulldoze the Legislature in person!”
The bright moonlight drifted down on the speaker,
clearly outlining his deceivingly youthful face and
the shock of black hair thrown carelessly back from
his forehead.
“Bravo! Muchissimo bravo!” chuckled the pro-
fessor of Spanish from the university, flipping a
cigarette across the grass.


50 HIDDEN EYES
good advantage the clean, lithe appearance of the
younger man who was speaking earnestly:
“I tell you, Lester, the thing bothers me. It's
uncanny. How could any one have got into it?”
The doctor spun a flat stone into the water,
watched it ricochet and disappear.
“Why worry over it, Hal? None of your busi-
ness. Let the detectives and the bank worry.”
“But, man alive!” expostulated Thornton. “I
feel as though it were a personal affront to me—as
though it were my vault they’d broken into—if they
have.”
“If they have?” The doctor turned his little
eyes on the younger man.
Thornton fidgeted under the direct gaze.
“Oh, I thought Hayes might have put the money
somewhere and forgotten about it. Such things do
happen, you know. But both Harkiss and Kingsley
were with him when he put the package away, and
when the vault was opened. I talked to Hayes this
afternoon; dammit, Lester, show some interest!”
The huge doctor chuckled.
“Go on, I’m listening—you're too infernally ner-
vous these days, Hal.”
Thornton shrugged.


THE LAUNCH 51
"By George, it's enough to make any one ner-
vous. Hayes reminded me that it was my recom-
mendation that finally induced him to get that Defy
vault instead of the others, and—well, don't you see,
Lester, the position I'm in?”
The doctor shook his massive head.
“Can't see that I do, Hal. What if you did boost
the Defy product; you had an ax to grind, didn't
you? There was the royalty from the patent—”
The doctor lighted a cigarette. “Quite a distinc-
tion for this burg of ours, eh? A cracksman who
can calmly get into the pride of the Defy people
and walk off with what he likes.”
“Confound it, Lester, be serious.” Thornton did
not smile in answer to the doctor's rumbling chuckle.
“Some one did it—I believe that now—the question
is, who? I don't believe there's a man alive who
could—”
The big doctor laughed again.
“Ralby would tell you, Hal, that there's a man
alive who can undo anything that another man has
ever done. Got a good argument, too. Jam up on
criminology. Ever argue with him about it?”
Thornton turned impatiently and walked slowly
away.


52 HIDDEN EYES
“Bother Ralby and his stupid ideas.”
The doctor grinned at Thornton's back.
“Just the same he's a coming young man,” he
taunted. “Isabel's taken a notion to him, too, it
seems.”
Thornton stopped short.
“What's the idea, Lester?” he asked shortly.
The doctor's laugh boomed out.
“Got you, eh?” His huge frame shook heavily.
“Nice chap, Ralby, mighty nice chap,” he grunted.
Then: “By the way, where were you last night?”
he finished banteringly.
“That's not as funny as you think, Lester,”
Thornton flamed. “I even considered that, too, for
if there's a man in this town—and I’m not boasting
and you know it!—who could get into that vault,
well, I'm the man. But, lord, it would take me
weeks to work out the combinations. However, if
I—”
The doctor waved a fat hand. “Of course I was
joking.”
Thornton nodded.
“I know you were; but I’ve puzzled over it all
day; and if a man can get into that vault that easy—


THE LAUNCH 53
why, there isn't a vault or strong-room in the United
States that's safe!”
“Well?” The doctor was plainly bored.
“And yet,” Thornton continued speculatively, “I
might be able to do it.”
The doctor grumbled something unintelligible and
uncomplimentary.
“I was with Isabel until about ten,” Thornton
mused aloud. “Met her down-town and didn't go
home with her; had a headache. By ten-thirty I
was in bed, and I awoke this morning about
seven—”
“Come on, let's get back.” The doctor took
Thornton's arm commandingly. “You’ll find there's
something wrong somewhere, for if that vault can't
be got into—well, that's all there's to it, I guess.”
Thornton shook his head gloomily.
“I wish I thought so,” he muttered.
The doctor laughed. “You offered your services
to the chief, of course.”
“Yes. But what can I do against this—against
this—whoever he is. I don't think you realize,
Lester, that a man who could do a thing like that
is a genius—a man who could command—”


54 HIDDEN EYES
Doctor Lester shrugged his massive shoulders
and yawned mightily.
Together the two men made their way across the
grounds and were met by their hostess.
“For goodness' sake, Hal,” greeted the girl, “why
the portentous frown?” And Thornton smiled.
“There, that's better,” she remarked, taking the
arm relinquished by the doctor. “As for you,” she
addressed herself to Doctor Lester, “Morton has
been looking for you all over the place. He found
a book in the library, and seems to have proved you
wrong about something—something with a funny
name—I don't know what it is.”
“H-m,” Doctor Lester frowned jestingly. “That's
a fine way to try to shake an old friend. But—all
right, young lady; it means something that tastes
nasty the next time I get a chance at you—just
wait.”
And he heaved his huge bulk across the narrow
path toward the house.
The girl turned to Thornton in the semi-darkness
of the lawn. The music from the house came to
them but faintly.
“Well, Mr. Chemist-who-is-always-busy, what’s
the matter?”


56 HIDDEN EYES
The girl shot a quick glance at him.
“Why—why do you ask, Hal?”
Thornton shrugged.
“Oh–” he waved a hand helplessly. “I don't
know; everybody seems to like him.”
The girl smiled at his vagueness and shook her
head a little.
“I don't know, Hal,” she said frankly, “some-
times Morton is a little short of wonderful, and
sometimes—”
“Yes?”
“Sometimes I just despise him without any rea-
son.” The girl laughed. “And if you ever breathe
a word of it—” she threatened.
Thornton came back to the subject which occupied
him.
“You know, lady, I believe there is just one man
in town capable of getting into that vault.”
The girl looked up quickly and bit her lip. It
seemed that the sudden switch of conversation was
not too pleasing to her.
“Yes?” she questioned dully.
“I could.”
The girl laughed quickly.


THE LAUNCH 57
“Nonsense. In a month, perhaps. You didn't
succeed the last time, did you?” .
“Oh, it was different at the factory,” Thornton
explained. “So many things had already been
done—”
“I’ve heard enough about vaults and such, Mr.
Chemist,” the girl broke in archly. “And I've been
saving this dance for you.”
When the dance ended, a half dozen clamoring
men claimed her attention and Thornton drifted
outside. His mind would not leave the problem,
and he wandered toward the river, turning it over
and over.
Near the dock lay Ralby's new launch; a mahog-
any-finished, glistening thing, with the lines of a
yacht, and gleaming beautifully in the moonlight.
Absently Thornton wandered aboard and looked
about him, first on the deck and the little wheel-
house, and then below in the two cabins the launch
boasted.
Two or three times, between the dances that fol-
lowed, Isabel searched for Thornton. Neither Ralby
nor Doctor Lester had seen him, and she determined
to seek him out later, the while she laughed at the


58 HIDDEN EYES
doctor's suggestion to check over the list of feminine
guests and find an absentee that would explain
Thornton's disappearance.
It was past midnight when Thornton made his
reappearance in the ballroom.
The doctor drew him aside, scanning closely with
his little eyes the slight pallor which rested on the
young man's cheeks, and the bewildered expression
in his eyes.
“What's wrong, Hal?”
Thornton smiled weakly.
“I think I'll be a patient of yours pretty soon,”
he laughed. “That is, if I don't buck up. I went
out for a stroll toward the river. Saw Ralby's
launch at the dock and clambered aboard. I must
have fallen asleep in the cabin. Anyway, I was
there two hours.”
“You come to me in the morning, young man,”
grumbled the doctor heavily. “I’ll have no break-
downs at this stage of the game.” He drew the
younger man into an alcove. “That girl has been
hunting for you all over the place. Tell me, Hal—
I meant to ask you this morning—what's the ver-
dict?”
“Isabel?”


THE LAUNCH 59
The doctor nodded.
“I’m afraid, Lester, afraid to ask her. She seems
to like Ralby so—”
“Faint heart—” broke in the doctor heavily, and
Thornton flushed.
“I know, Lester,” Thornton laughed shortly, “but
suppose she turns me down? Why shouldn't she?
She's a thousand times too wonderful—”
“None are so blind—” Again the doctor broke
off his quotation. “Look,” he nodded across the
room to where the girl could be seen making her
way through one of the large windows. “Whom do
you suppose she's looking for?”
“Me?” Thornton queried inanely.
“No, oh, no. Maybe she's looking for me,” the
doctor answered sarcastically.
Thornton stepped out into the room to follow the
girl. A butler caught his eye and hurried across the
roorn. *
“You’re wanted on the phone, Mr. Thornton.”
Thornton cast a glance after the disappearing
girl and followed the servant.
The doctor's huge face creased into smiles.
“The gods,” he muttered, “don’t seem ready for
this thing to happen.” He produced the inevitable


60 HIDDEN EYES
s
cigarette, stepped out to the veranda, and, musing
thoughtfully, wandered off beneath the trees.
“It’s a good match,” he soliloquized, “mighty fine
match. He's a boy with a future, and she's a–
what the devil!”
The doctor drew up near the tiny dock in the
river, and his eyes grew large as he gazed at the
launch made fast to one side. The moonlight glinted
on the polished bow of the little craft, a bow that
was pointed down the river.
“Now, who,” muttered the doctor heavily, thought-
fully eying the little launch, “who turned that craft
around?”


CHAPTER V
THE SECOND VISITATION
HE doctor returned to the house unnoticed in
the babel that attended the leave-taking of the
guests. He shook hands absently with whoever
presented himself, his eyes searching for Thornton.
Finally he discovered him leaning gloomily against
a post far down the veranda, and waddled gravely
to his side.
“You look like a study in pessimism,” the doctor
greeted. “What's up now?”
“Nothing.”
The doctor eased his huge bulk into a wicker
chair, lighted a cigarette and meditatively puffed a
moment.
“See the lady?” he queried, and Thornton gloom-
ily shook his head. “That's the occasion of the
35
funereal expression, I suppose,” the doctor con-
tinued, eying Thornton.
The younger man scowled and dropped into a
chair beside the doctor's.
“I came out,” he explained glumly, “and Ralby
61


62 HIDDEN EYES
was with her. He always is, dammit. And just
when I–"
The doctor laughed encouragingly.
“Had your courage screwed to the sticking-point,
eh?” He contemplated Thornton from out his
little shrewd eyes. “Nothing important in the call?”
he hazarded.
Thornton shook his head. “They'd rung off;
don't know who it was.”
A little frown appeared in the doctor's forehead.
“Idiots—call a man this time of night and decide
they don't want him. I’ve been trembling in my
boots that somebody'd have a young fit and drag
me away from here. Must be my lucky night.”
Thornton remained silent, staring intently at the
floor before him.
The big doctor smiled.
“I’ll probably have a string of calls waiting when
I get home,” he rumbled on.
Still no word from Thornton, and the doctor
snapped his cigarette in a wide arc across the rail
of the veranda.
“’Rah for the fireworks!” the young prosecuting
attorney cried approvingly as he approached. “Gee,
that was a push—eh, Bernice?”


THE SECOND VISITATION 63
The girl at his side nodded in turn.
“You wait for me,” she demanded poutingly. “I
won't be five minutes. I’m ready to go home, too.”
“Lady, whenever have I failed you?” protested
the young man theatrically. “Here shall I make my
home until you return.” He took a chair next to
the doctor's.
“You keep him for me, Doctor,” the girl laughed
her request at Doctor Lester. “He’s the onliest
man I’ve got, you know.” And she turned into the
house.
Railey accepted a cigarette from the doctor's fat
hand and leaned back comfortably.
“A corner on feminine loveliness; that's what I've
got,” he exulted cheerfully.
Doctor Lester grunted unintelligibly, and Thorn-
ton remained silent. The young attorney smoked
a moment, then:
“What's the idea?” he demanded. “Come out of
it, Thornton; this isn't a sphinx party.”
Thornton raised his head.
“Oh, hello, Max; didn't know you were here.”
“What?” The young man drew up in his chair.
“And you did not see the blinding vision of beauty
that commanded me to remain here until she re-


64 HIDDEN EYES
turned?” he mocked. “You must have been dream-
ing.”
Thornton turned toward the speaker,
“What's your idea about this Second National
business, Max?”
Railey laughed.
“The expert—the steel oracle—desires informa-
tion? Well, frankly, I haven't any theory, Thorn-
His voice dropped from its light tone and
ton.”
took on a vein of seriousness. “Just how do you
explain it yourself?” -
“Explain it?” Thornton frowned. “By heaven,
there's no explanation to it. I think the chief is
wrong somewhere, that's all.”
“H-m.” The young attorney hummed thought-
fully. “The chief told me he'd talked to you, Hal,
and that you'd sort of thrown a bluff that you could
get into that vault. He's rather struck with the
idea. Why did you do that?”
“There you are.”
into wakefulness. “That's what you get for blow-
ing, Hal. Shouldn't be surprised if the sleuth had
an eye on you.”
Thornton shrugged.
“I’m going to satisfy myself to-morrow,” he said
Doctor Lester seemed to rouse


THE SECOND VISITATION 65
quietly. “I want to see if I can do it. Suppose
they'll let metry, Max?”
“Why not? But I wouldn't make an ass of my-
self, Thornton. I looked at that vault to-day, and,
believe me, it looks about as solid as Gibraltar.”
Thornton nodded.
“That's what I say; but I can't get the idea out
of my head. I’ve been bothering with it all night.
It seems so ridiculously impossible.”
“Glad Ralby's not around,” chuckled the doctor.
“He’d read you a lecture on what isn't possible and
what is, eh, Max?”
“Gosh, yes. He had me in a corner to-night,”
laughed Railey. “Brilliant chap, that Ralby.”
The doctor agreed readily. “Keeps up with things
well,” he admitted. “Got the finest little library on
the new psychoanalysis movement I’ve seen yet;
from Freud on down.”
Thornton listened without interest.
“Just how good is the city's detective force,
Max?” he questioned.
Railey started.
“Hey? Oh,”—and he laughed slightly—“noth-
ing to brag about. The chief's a fat-headed, bull-
dog sort; he gets some results, through sheer luck,


66 HIDDEN EYES
it seems to me. No, Hal, don't pin your faith of
working out this thing on the detective force.
They're about as much up in the air as I’ve ever
seen them.”
The doctor grunted.
“I’m up in the air, too,” he admitted, “what with
Thornton's insistence that the blamed thing is bullet-
proof and all. Damme! I'm beginning to wonder
about the thing myself.” The doctor lighted still
another cigarette and grumbled heavily as though
blaming himself for his interest.
“Here's an idea,” suggested Railey slowly. “Let’s
see. Wouldn't it have been possible, Hal, for the
men who put the vault in the bank to fix it so that
they could come back some time and work the com-
binations?”
Thornton shook his head.
“If they did, they're marvels, that's all. I saw
considerable of that work, Max, and it looked all
right to me. Of course,” he continued thought-
fully, “I wasn’t looking for anything wrong, but—”
he shrugged slightly. “It’s too far-fetched, I think.
That vault is so delicate that it would not close if a
sheet of moderately thick paper were placed on the
side of the door. No, that's not a good guess, Max.”


THE SECOND VISITATION 67
The prosecuting attorney laughed.
“Oh, well, I can guess again, then; it just occurred
to me, that's all.”
“Seems to me,” rumbled the doctor heavily,
“seems to me that I read somewhere once—some
detective story, probably—of a bunch of crooks who
got into a vault like this by coming up from under-
neath, after working months to open the way.
Sounds silly, doesn't it?”
“No-o,” Railey began speculatively; “think I
read the same thing, a long time ago.” He tapped
a foot consideringly on the floor. “As good a guess
as any, I suppose, and worth looking into. What
do you think of that one, Hal?”
Thornton shook his head.
“Won’t do,” he declared. “The base of the vault
—its setting, that is—is on a solid concrete base
from the ground; about eight solid feet of concrete,
and some three feet of steel. Getting through that
would be more of an impossible feat than opening
the door itself.”
The doctor yawned.
“I guess I'm not a Nick Carter,” he grinned.
“Besides, it's morning, and time to get in. Coming
with me, Thornton? I'll drop you at-"


68 HIDDEN EYES
“Mr. Thornton”—the butler approached again—
“the telephone, please.”
Thornton turned to the doctor.
“I don't know who it can be this time of night—
or morning—” he smiled; “but wait a minute and
I'll go with you.” He followed the servant.
Railey rose to his feet.
“That fair lady of mine is taking too much time,”
he commented. “Think I’ll chase in and see— Hello,
Ralby— not gone yet?”
Ralby drew near the two men.
“No,” he said shortly. “I’ve been talking to
Isabel. Everybody seems to have left, though, ex-
cept the younger bunch. Where's Thornton—seen
him?”
The doctor raised his eyes.
“Just went inside to the telephone. Wait a min-
ute; we'll all go together. I’ve got my three-cylinder
buzz-wagon outside.”
The doctor invariably spoke of his roadster as
a three-cylinder, claiming that the fourth cylinder
had chronic something or other, which prevented it
functioning, and no small part of the doctor's pro-
fanity was perfected while swearing over this same
cylinder.


THE SECOND VISITATION 69
“You’re still in the Riverside Apartments, aren't
you, Ralby?”
Ralby nodded.
“Yep—third floor. Thornton's down on the first.
Thinking of coming in with us?”
The young prosecuting attorney laughed.
“Yes, whenever I can bring Bernice to terms,”
he chuckled. “In the meantime my diggings will
hold me.”
“Glad to have you,” said Ralby easily. “We'll
make you feel at home there, And if we can get
you too, Lester—” He turned to the huge doctor.
“Huh.” The doctor humphed his displeasure.
“I spend half my time there now, doctoring that
Haines kid.”
“Oh, yes, our little mania patient,” Ralby com-
mented, “Think you'll try that suggestion business
when— Oh, good night, Max, see you to-morrow—
I mean later in the day.” Ralby nodded and shook
hands with the young attorney, who moved off,
“Thanks for taking care of him, Doctor,” the girl
in the doorway cried laughingly. “And it's time you
people were abed.”
“Thornton's an infernally long time at that
phone,” grumbled the doctor.


70 HIDDEN EYES
Ralby nodded.
“Yes, and we're keeping Isabel, I think. Want to
go dig him out;"
The doctor shook his head. It just occurred to
him that Thornton was with the girl.
“No, I'm not especially tired,” he grunted. “Had
an easy day of it.”
Meanwhile Thornton passed through the empty
library and to the telephone on the table.
“Hello. Yes. Thornton speaking.” He frowned
into the transmitter trying to recall the voice. “Oh,
hello, Chief—what's the idea? Did you call me a
minute ago? Well, about twenty minutes. You
did? All right. What is it?”
A look of astonishment crossed his face.
“The devil!” he gasped. “When? Yes. Yes.
All right. I’ll come down now. Yes. All right.
Be with you in a few minutes.”
He hurried to the porch.
Doctor Lester looked up.
“What's the rush?” he grumbled, and Ralby
looked expectantly at Thornton.
“I just heard—” Thornton began, as the girl ap-
peared in the doorway.


THE SECOND VISITATION 71
“Shoo! All of you!” she demanded laughingly.
“I’m going in and it's past one o'clock.”
She smiled impartially on the three men as they
made their adieus.
Thornton was manifestly excited.
“Now, what is it?” demanded the doctor, stop-
ping still.
“The St. John's National has been robbed!”


CHAPTER VI
DOCTOR LESTER MAIKES A BET
HORNTON'S voice was melodramatically
Tº:
“The devil you say!” Ralby brought up short.
“When? How P”
The doctor whistled softly through his pursed
lips.
“In the same way,” continued Thornton, mov-
ing on. “I was just talking with the chief. An-
other vault entered—the loss is ten thousand.”
They stopped before the doctor's car.
“Want to come to town with me?” Thornton
turned. “I’m going down to the chief's office and
see what I can learn of the affair.”
“By George, I will!” The doctor clambered into
his car. “Come along, Ralby; this’ll interest you.
A nice study in criminal psychology—a damned
nice study.”
72


DOCTOR LESTER MAKES A BET 73
Ralby shrugged and laughed.
“At least he's an engaging sort of thief, this.
And he's got the nerve.”
They crowded into the doctor's small car and
sped toward the city. As they were crossing the
Riverside Viaduct toward Bay Street Ralby broke
the silence.
“Well, Doctor, doesn't this demonstrate again
that there's always some individual who can—”
The doctor, driving, made the turn into Bay
Street on two wheels.
“H-m,” he grunted. “It begins to be interesting,
certainly.”
“Interesting?” Thornton's voice was tense. “By
heaven—it's more than that. You don't understand.
It's almost unbelievable. The man who is doing
this is a marvel !”
The doctor grunted again.
“Just the same,” he threw the words at Ralby,
“they'll get him—just as they get ’em all.”
“Never in the world,” laughed Ralby. “I think
our gentleman will be too shrewd to be caught
napping.”
Thornton concurred. “Any man who can do
things like that,” he agreed, the words jolting from


74 HIDDEN EYES
\
his mouth as the doctor swung the car around a
corner, “isn't likely to be caught.”
The doctor pressed his heavy foot on the accele-
rator.
“What'll you bet?” he questioned.
Thornton gestured with one hand.
“Not me,” he frowned. “The whole business is
too queer.”
“Bet what, Doctor?” Ralby was interested.
“I’ll bet five hundred they'll catch him in two
weeks,” grumbled the big man.
“Five hundred? Done with you,” Ralby laughed
aloud. “That's a sporting proposition.”
The car swerved abruptly and brought up before
the detective's offices with a screech of brakes. The
three men descended and the doctor chuckled aloud:
“Good bet,” he agreed, “and I'll split fifty-fifty
with you, Hal, if you can work it out. You're on
the case, you know.”
“All that I can say,” finished Thornton, leaning
back in his chair, “is that whoever is responsible for
these robberies is a safeman, par excellence.”
The chief nodded heavily, and turned to Franklin
at his side. The room in which the men sat adjoined


76 HIDDEN EYES
“I tell you again, Chief, as I’ve told you a half-
dozen times already: there isn't a man in this part
of the country who knows as much about these
things as I do, and I doubt that I could get into—”
The chief waved a pudgy hand.
“All right, Mr. Thornton, I'm not disputing you;
but—” he grinned weakly, “you'd better look to your
laurels then.”
“That's all very well, Chief,” Thornton returned
quickly, “but my idea is that these—this—whoever
it is—isn't just one man, but a gang of them. They
must have planned this thing for months.”
“What makes you think so?”
Thornton flushed at the chief's tone.
“I don't know,” he said slowly. “But—oh, it isn't
reasonable to suppose that suddenly a man appears
—a man of whom the police have no record, no his-
tory—who is able to get into an absolutely burglar-
proof vault.” Thornton scowled thoughtfully at the
detective, “You know yourself, Chief, that any
single man of this extraordinary ability would be
known somewhere, and you admit you've no record
—nor any history of a-a-"
He broke off, and the chief scratched his head
musingly, while the detective, Franklin, nodded.


78 HIDDEN EYES
“I’ll tell you this much, Doctor,” he offered. “If
Mr. Thornton and you and Mr. Ralby here are in-
teresting yourself in this—er—affair—”
Ralby hastened to nod.
“With your permission, Chief, though there isn't
much I can do, I know. I'm interested, well, less
in the robberies, frankly, than in the personality of
the robber. Psychology, you know—a harmless
hobby, and—”
Doctor Lester heaved himself heavily to his feet.
“Anything I can do, Chief, just say the word.”
The big doctor chuckled. “But there doesn't seem
to be much use for me.”
The chief smiled grimly.
“Never can tell, Doctor,” he snapped. “We may
have use for you at that—you, too, Mr. Ralby.”
“Well,” the doctor yawned, “don’t give that luna-
tic too much to do.” He nodded heavily toward
Thornton. “He’s nervous as a jumping-jack al-
ready.”
“What do you propose to do first?” Thornton
ignored the doctor's remark.
The chief shrugged. “At least I can prevent a
recurrence of it. I’ve got men stationed at each
bank in the city”—the chief looked straight at


80 HIDDEN EYES
Thornton laughed.
“I’ve no doubt about the St. John's, Chief. I
know what can be done with that, and I’ll bet I
can get into it inside of thirty minutes. It's that
Defy vault that's worrying me.”
Doctor Lester, moving toward the door, took
it up:
“You folks,” he commented, “seem to be over-
looking the fact that watchmen are supposed to be in
these banks.”
Franklin turned to the doctor.
“No, we ain’t, either. But this guy works like
streaked lightning. Why, he didn't have fifteen
minutes between the watchman's rounds at the St.
John’s.”
“What time was it when this last robbery took
place?” Doctor Lester was beginning to manifest
an interest in the proceedings.
“As near as we can make out, a little after mid-
night,” answered the chief promptly.
“That was when you first called me, wasn't it,
Chief?” Thornton questioned.
“Er—yes.” The chief nodded embarrassedly,
and hurriedly held a lighted match to his cigar.


DOCTOR LESTER MAKES A BET 81
“Why did you ring off?” Thornton queried curi-
ously.
The chief turned visibly red.
“Er—I—that is—I was at my house,” he stut-
tered, “and you were so long coming to the phone”
—he fidgeted about in his chair—“I was in a hurry
to get to the office, of course,” he explained. “Called
you again right after I got here.”
Doctor Lester's heavy face creased into a grin
and he winked broadly at Ralby, who wondered
what the reason was.
It was patently evident to the big doctor that
Thornton's questions embarrassed the chief of de-
tectives, nor did the shrewd physician for a moment
doubt that the chief's call was made for any other
reason than to fix definitely the fact that Thornton
was at the Brannon home, five miles from the city.
The doctor eyed Thornton speculatively, but the
young man seemed entirely unaware of the chief's
nervousness or of the doctor's gaze fixed on his
face. The chief's answer evidently satisfied him,
for he was frowning at nothing, staring straight
ahead, evidently endeavoring to solve the problem
by sheer thought.


82 HIDDEN EYES
-
Doctor Lester shook his head heavily, and a puz-
zled light came into his little eyes as he met those
of Morton Ralby fixed on him. He shrugged hugely
and turned aside. Ralby was undoubtedly puzzled,
and showed it. He had been listening intently:
“Tell me,” he began again, “who discovered the
St. John's robbery at this time of the morning?”
The chief's guttural laugh answered him.
“I thought you'd get away without asking that,”
he admitted. “Our gentleman left a light burning
before the vault. The watchman reported it to
Hollwood, the cashier. He went down and investi-
gated; then called me.”
Ralby shook his head slowly.
“A man such as this one appears to be,” he specu-
lated, “would hardly leave a light—”
“Oh, there's none of 'em perfect,” the chief as-
sured him positively, glad to get away from the
subject of his telephone call for Thornton. “That's
why I'm morally certain we'll land him. But—thir-
ty-five thousand dollars in two days.”
“Will the papers have it?” queried Ralby.
“That's the hell of it,” agreed the chief. “They
will, by to-morrow—by this afternoon, that is—and
they'll be on me like a pack of hungry wolves.”


DOCTOR LESTER MAKES A BET 83
-
-
“Did you look for finger-prints?”
The chief smiled tolerantly at Ralby's question-
ings.
“About fifty hands a day touch that vault,” he
grumbled. “Besides, Hollwood had opened the
vault before I got there.”
“There isn't any inner vault there?”
The chief shook his head.
“Nope. Only one. A small inner safe, one of
the circular kind, which they use for securities.”
Ralby frowned, and Thornton broke in:
“There wasn't any effort made to open the inner
safe?” he questioned. “That sounds queer. To a
man who can go through the outer vault-door, the
inner safe would be like a cigar-box.”
The detective, Franklin, had been listening care-
fully, especially when Thornton was speaking. It
was easy to see that he considered Thornton but
little short of an infallible oracle.
“I guess he didn't have time,” he volunteered.
“He must 'a' had a line on the watchman's rounds
all right.” -
Ralby, carefully studying the tip of his cigarette,
asked Thornton :
“How long, Thornton, do you think it would take


84. HIDDEN EYES
, a man, knowing the combinations, to open, enter,
and close the St. John's vault?”
Thornton pondered the question, and the big doc-
tor again eyed him closely. The chief leaned for-
ward interestedly.
“Ten minutes,” Thornton answered finally. “That
is, if he had the combination down pat, and got it
the first time without a slip.”
Ralby whistled.
“He’s some fast worker then. And if he had
to work out the combination, what then?”
Thornton frowned.
“That's just what I’ve been trying to get out,”
he explained, “if a man had to work those combina-
tions out—any man short of the most expert vault
constructor in the world—it would take him at the
very least an hour.”
Doctor Lester glanced at his watch.
“Well, I'm off,” he announced, satisfied that there
was but one way to end the apparently interminable
discussion. “Coming along, Thornton?”
Thornton nodded and turned to the door, accom-
panied by Ralby.
“See you later, Chief; don't forget I'm to have
a hand at that Second National vault.”


DOCTOR LESTER MAKES A BET 85
The chief nodded and the men withdrew.
Left alone with his men, the chief turned to
Franklin.
“Well?” he demanded.
Franklin shook his head.
“It seems to me, Chief, that that guy Ralby's
mighty interested.”
The chief shrugged his shoulders.
“One of these scientific guys,” he commented
caustically, his voice plainly indicating his opinion
of the scientific fraternity. “Supposed to be in real
estate, ain't he?”
Franklin nodded.
“Yep. Offices on the first floor of the St. James
Building, but he's never in 'em. Always seems to
have money, Always did have—but where he
makes it beats me.”
The chief shook his head.
“Nix,” he commented briefly. “He’s harmless.”
“All the same,” continued Franklin tenaciously,
“he sat up a little when you mentioned that light.”
Another of the men laughed.
“Come off, Fran,” he grinned. “So did you.
Said it wasn't so at first, didn't you?”
“I don't know,” commented the chief thought-


86 e HIDDEN EYES
fully. “It’s a good point, that light.” He turned
to the man who had spoken to Franklin. “You pick
this Ralby up and stick with him,” he ordered.
The detective nodded.
“A pipe,” he declared.
“And you,” the chief continued, turning to Frank-
lin, “you hang with this Thornton chap who's so
damned certain that he's the only man in town with
brains enough to pull a thing like this.”
The assignment pleased Franklin, for it meant,
as he knew, the spending of considerable time on
the third floor of the St. James Building—next to
the offices of Doctor Lester.
“But I wouldn't advise you,” the chief finished
heavily to Franklin, “to worry more about that
girl in Doctor Lester's than your job.”
“When's it coming off, Fran?” laughed one of
the men jeeringly.
Franklin turned red.
“Seems to me,” he growled, “that if you guys
paid as much attention to your blamed business—”
A guffaw of laughter interrupted him.
“Enough of that,” grunted the chief. “I’m not
talking just to make noise,” he went on, “but I’m
tellin' you boys there'll be some mighty loud howl-


DOCTOR LESTER MAKES A BET 87
ing going on in this town in a day or two, and we've
simply got to get on the job—and get there right.”
The chief's fist pounded the table before him.
“I want you,” the chief turned to one of the men
beside him, “to start up Bay Street to-day with this
list.” The chief grinned as he drew a list from his
pocket. “Serial numbers of some of the big bills
in the St. John's package,” he explained. “I ain't
spilling all I know, you see. You make copies of
this list, and spread it pretty well over town—on the
q. t., mind.”
The detective nodded and pocketed the slip.
“And you, Franklin,” the chief turned again on
Franklin. “You pick up Thornton at his apartment,
and just forget that girl of yours a little bit.”
Franklin turned red.
“I’ll do my end of it, Chief,” he began, but the
chief waved his hand to end the discussion.
“That's what you're here for.”
“How about the doctor?” commented Franklin
ironically, digging back at the chief. “Hadn't some-
body better—”
The chief flushed slowly.
“Aw, get to hell out o' here,” he grumbled good-
naturedly. “Give me a rest. We'll all be needing


88 HIDDEN EYES
to work together to land this steel-vault Johnnie of
ours.”
“Then why waste my time watchin' Thornton?”
Franklin demanded. “I could do twice the good
hanging around Bridge Street, gettin' a line on some
of the new faces, or down to Pablo.”
“Nix.” The chief slapped the desk heavily.
“The guy who's pulling this stuff isn't your Bridge
Street kind, and you won't find him hanging 'round
down the beaches, either. I've got a hunch this is
one o’ those gentlemen crooks you're always ravin’
about, Franklin, and—well, we've got him to get,
that's all.”
Franklin shrugged, picked up his hat, and made
for the door.
“Just the same,” he insisted, “they'd laugh you
out of the place if they knew you were wasting time
on Thornton and his crowd.”
The chief wagged a finger at the retreating de-
tective.
“I ain't saying a thing, Fran, but when a man
shoots off his mouth so much and frequent that he's
the only guy who could pull a thing like this, well,
I reckon I'd keep an eye on him—even if he was
my own grandfather. And that's your job; get me?”


CHAPTER VII
AN UNPROFESSIONAL VISIT
OCTOR LESTER'S car coughed its com-
D plaining way along the deserted streets, the
doctor hunched far down in his seat behind the
steering-wheel.
Thornton was moody and silent, and Ralby, after
twice trying to light a cigarette, gave it up as a bad
job, and watched the huge doctor as he twisted the
car about, picking the best spots in the going, and
grumbling over the cylinder, which missed chron-
ically.
As they swung into Riverside Avenue Thornton
broke the silence.
“Remember coming across any case analogous to
this in your reading, Ralby?”
“What?” Ralby sat up with a start. “Beg par-
don, Thornton; I was dreaming. What was it?”
89


90 HIDDEN EYES
Thornton repeated the question, and Ralby mused
silently a moment.
“No,” he finally answered, “can't say that I have.
There was that Tennessee case of the man they
called Midnighty Somebody-or-other; I forget what.
He was a pretty wise one, but hardly up to a game
like this. Besides he's still doing time in Tennessee,
if I remember aright.”
“You mean that fellow Josephs,” Thornton re-
marked. “I remember reading of that. No; it
would take a better man than he was at his best.
Josephs depended on the sense of touch to tell him
when the tumblers began to fall in the doors, and I
don't believe he could get very far on these new
vaults.”
The doctor at the wheel grunted skeptically.
“Is there anything in this Jimmy Valentine busi-
ness?” he questioned. “I mean this opening of
vaults by the sense of touch.” He half turned to
Thornton, who nodded immediately.
“You’re mighty right there is. There's a man
up at the Defy plant who is a wizard at it.” Thorn-
ton chuckled reminiscently. “I can do it myself
sometimes.”
Ralby shrugged.


AN UNPROFESSIONAL VISIT 91
“A matter of practise, I presume. Same old
argument, Lester: there's always a man to do any-
thing, provided he works hard enough.”
The doctor grunted unintelligibly. Then he chor-
tled:
“By the same reasoning, there's a man who can
catch this cracksman of ours then.”
“Of course,” Ralby admitted immediately. “But
I doubt if our worthy chief or his colleagues have
the necessary imagination.” He was silent for a
minute, then: “If I were running this bunch of
sleuths, I think I'd work on Thornton's idea of a
gang of them; a well-laid, plotted scheme; not just
one man.”
“But one man must do the actual work,” argued
Thornton. “It’s almost impossible to believe there
is a man capable of it. If there are more it simply
makes it so much the more improbable.”
Ralby shrugged. “Well, we've beefed about it
enough. For my part I’m willing to forget it and
go to bed. Something is bound to turn up—it al-
ways does.”
“I hope it turns up quick,” grumbled the doctor.
“Five hundred dollars’ worth. You're not for-
getting our bet, Ralby?”


92 HIDDEN EYES
“Don’t worry, Lester; you've got the losing end.
Thornton's experiments later on will demonstrate
that. Personally, Thornton, I doubt that you'll be
able to manage, although, of course, I don't know a
blessed thing about the darn vaults.”
“I’m almost sure myself,” Thornton admitted.
“Still I want to determine to my own satisfaction
that it can't be done. There's always the possibility
of a flaw in the mechanism, you know. That's
what I'm hoping to find. You'll be there, won't
you?”
“If they'll let me,” laughed Ralby. “Gosh, but
the chief's face would be a study in emotions if,
by any chance, you should succeed.”
The doctor's laugh boomed aloud.
“It’ll be worth seeing,” he admitted. “Think I'll
drop around myself. Ought to see Hayes anyway.
Haven't dropped in on him for a coon's age.”
Thornton spoke enviously. “Wish I hadn't;” and
Ralby's eyes shot a side glance at him.
“Why?”
Thornton laughed.
“Oh, nothing, except he's carrying a little paper
of mine. Not enough to amount to anything—but


AN UNPROFESSIONAL VISIT 93
bothersome, just the same. Oh, yes, I see our friend
Mr. Hayes every now and then.”
Ralby made as if to speak, hesitated, and finally
dropped a hand in a friendly fashion on Thornton's
a1111.
“Be glad to help you out on that—er—paper,
Thornton. Just say the word.”
“Thanks, old man.” Thornton was genuinely
pleased. “It’s good to know that I've got a couple
of you fellows to fall back on if I need you. Lester
here,” he nudged the doctor beside him, “tries to
swat me with a check every once in a while, but
I'm pulling through all right. If those infernal
Defy people would do the right thing, and come
across as they should for that synchronizing device,
I’d be on Easy Street.”
“Take 'em into the courts,” grumbled the doctor.
“You’ve got 'em tied now, since they started using
the thing definitely.”
Thornton laughed.
“What's the use? I'll take what I can get—
what they'll come across with, but, believe me, the
next time I offer a patent to a corporation I'll have
it tied up so tight they can't monkey with it.”


94. HIDDEN EYES
The car slid to a halt before the ornate front of
the Riverside Apartments, and Thornton and Ralby
alighted. They stood for a moment talking with the
doctor.
“You’ll remember to drop in at the office, Thorn-
” the doctor remarked. “These sleeping fits
need looking into.”
Thornton smiled. “I am a bit all in,” he ad-
mitted. “Too much work, probably.”
“Too much dancing, I’d say,” laughed Ralby.
“We'd begun to think you were going to cut all of
the lady's dances this year,” he bantered, and Thorn-
ton flushed.
The doctor humphed. “If you'd been wasting
ton,
your nights more profitably,” he growled, “I’d say
all right. Now there's Isabel—”
Ralby's voice cut in.
“Well—it's time to turn in, and then some. If
Thornton wants to burn the midnight oil tinkering
with that steel mess, it's his business. I can dig
up some mighty good authorities, though, Thornton,
to prove that a too constant application to work
tends to degenerate the capacity for it. Great strides
we're making in the modern psychology.”
The doctor grumbled his displeasure.


AN UNPROFESSIONAL VISIT 95
“I’m not saying a word about the psychologists,
Ralby,” he said, “but a whole raft of them could
very profitably go back to James and learn funda-
mentals. The whole trouble is Freud became popu-
larized too blamed sudden, and every whippersnap-
per on earth thinks he's a psychologist, because he's
read that Brill translation on psychoanalysis. Why,
demme! Any man without a groundwork of
anatomy and medicine trying to grasp the modern
psychology is simply butting his head into a brick
wall, and—”
Thornton interrupted:
“So-long, pill-roller!” he laughed, knowing there
was but one method of stopping the avalanche of
words when the doctor started on his pet subject.
“I’ll drop in on you and let you thump me over a
bit. Good night!”
“Good night!” The doctor's heavy voice rum-
bled as he slid in the gears and the car trembled at
the curb. “And, say—” But Thornton and Ralby
were out of hearing. -
Carefully the doctor picked his way down the
dimly-lighted streets, flashing and dimming his
lights alternately.
By the time he arrived at his home all thoughts


96 HIDDEN EYES
of the events of the evening had been methodically
put from his mind, and he was once more the phleg-
matic, unimaginative doctor. As he deftly steered
his car into its garage, however, he muttered ab-
sently:
“Blamed strange, just the same, and thirty-five
thousand dollars. Whew!”
He entered the house and paused mechanically
before the telephone, picking up the note-pad by its
side. On the pad he read:
“Call Mrs. Haines—Riverside Apartments.”
He noted that the call was recent and picked up
the receiver. In a few minutes he was frowning
intently into the transmitter.
“Didn't make her sleep? You gave it to her? All
of it? Um! Seems afraid; eh? Yes, I'd better
come out, I reckon.”
He hung up the receiver, glanced at his watch
and yawned hugely; then turned once more into the
night.
Puzzling over the case, he rolled his car from the
garage and started off, muttering beneath his breath
as he lamented his lot, and stopping only to yawn
prodigiously.
In a few minutes the doctor's car brought up


98 HIDDEN EYES
3 *
in.” The big doctor shook his heavy head, a silent
commentary on the morals of the age, and once
more began his ascent.
Arrived at the fifth floor he knocked softly on a
door, and an eager-faced woman answered.
Gone was the doctor's grouchy manner and grum-
bling. With his hat he seemed to shed the pessi-
mism that cloaked him, and he became the kindly,
eager and extraordinarily proficient physician that
the name Doctor Edward Lester stood for in the
city of Jacksonville.
His big voice grumbled soothingly as he stooped
over the bed of his patient, a young girl, apparently
about eight years of age, whose troubled, burning
eyes carried their own message of the fever of
sleeplessness.
The doctor's clumsy hands were very tender as
he took the wrist of the little girl, and nodded his
head heavily as he checked the pulse against the
watch he drew from his pocket.
Ten minutes later he was again in the hallway.
“Oh, yes, she'll sleep now,” he rumbled. “You'd
better go to bed, too,” he admonished heavily, and
the woman smiled slightly. “You needn't worry.
She'll sleep, I tell you. Call me again, if you want


100 HIDDEN EYES
“Come in, now that you're here. Pretty late,
isn't it? What brings you back?”
The doctor lowered himself into a chair.
“Mountain climbing,” he grumbled. “That Haines
kid has got 'em bad again. She'll do now, though
—but what's been keeping you up?”
Thornton turned to a cellaret and brought out a
decanter and glasses.
“Frankly, Lester”—he poured out a drink into
the doctor's glass—“I don't know.” He leaned
over the table with a seltzer bottle. “I came in—
let's see—of course I did. I must have. And say
—say when l’”
“’S 'nough—thanks. Then what?” The doctor
stirred his drink meditatively as he eyed Thornton.
“I must have fallen asleep at the table here.
Something woke me up just now—”
The doctor choked and put down the glass he
had raised. “Let’s see.” He extended a great fat
hand and grasped Thornton's wrist, squinting the
while at his watch. He shook his big head slowly.
“What's it doing?” Thornton queried lightly,
though the tiny wrinkles about his eyes showed his
worry.


AN UNPROFESSIONAL VISIT 101
The doctor replaced his watch and swallowed the
drink.
“How do you feel?”
“All right,” the younger man answered easily.
“Nothing wrong, anyway—except a little dizzy, as
though I’d suddenly stopped spinning around.”
“Light points before the eyes?”
Thornton shook his head.
“The devil! I'm not bilious,” he laughed.
“It's no laughing matter. Come here!” The doc-
tor turned a table light until it shone clearly in
Thornton's face. “Bend down here, dammit, I ain't
a giraffe!” He gazed earnestly into Thornton's
eyes, squinting with his own until they were mere
pin-points behind their fat, puffy lids.
Thornton grinned at his seriousness.
“You look like Gargantual” he taunted.
The doctor snorted,
“You’d be better off not reading that rotten
Rabelais!” he commented. “French smut!”
“Aw, come on, Lester! You chuckle over it your-
self!” Thornton smiled under the doctor's steady
scrutiny. “What's the idea?”
The big doctor carefully lifted the lid of one of


102 HIDDEN EYES
the young man's eyes and frowned in a puzzled
fashion. Then he arose.
“Yellow jaundice?” Thornton mocked.
The doctor didn't answer, but groaningly dragged
out his hypodermic case.
“Get in bed,” he grumbled; “I can't stay here
until this afternoon.” And Thornton, joking lightly,
obeyed, while the doctor turned into the bathroom
from which came the sound of running water.
He returned in a few moments, commenting
under his breath about the heat of the water, while
Thornton, pajama-clad, sat swinging his legs from
the edge of the bed. The doctor drew out a battered
stethoscope and began listening intently, with the
disk pressed here and there on Thornton's chest.
Thornton was beginning to be genuinely worried.
“What seems to be the trouble—” he began, but
the doctor, the ear-pieces of the stethoscope firmly
in place, only rumbled a heavy “Shut up, will you?”
and continued his examination.
He worked very carefully, stopping now and then
to thump experimentally.
“Say “Ah,’” he grunted, and Thornton obeyed,
although he seemed to consider the whole business
a lark.


AN UNPROFESSIONAL VISIT 103
Finally the doctor replaced the stethoscope, care-
fully doubled up, into his hip-pocket. “You’ve got
a heart like an elephant,” he grumbled, “and lungs
made of leather—or I’m a liar!” He seemed dis-
appointed, and Thornton laughed at the lugubrious
expression on his face.
The doctor turned again into the bathroom, and
returned in a moment, waddling ludicrously. In one
fat hand he held a hypodermic.
Thornton objected weakly. -
“Aw, I don't need anything like that, Lester—
say—what—”
The doctor cocked his heavy head on one side.
“Who's the doctor here?” he demanded. He
passed Thornton a piece of alcohol-saturated cot-
ton. “Swab off that arm,” he ordered, holding the
hypodermic to the light and pressing easily on the
plunger until a drop of fluid appeared at the nee-
dle's end. -
“Bet a dollar it's not a thing but a touch of in-
digestion,” Thornton bantered from the bed. “And
you come along dragging a funereal face as though
I was all but buried.”
“Yeh?” The doctor was elaborately sarcastic.
“Maybe I'm hanging around here at three in the


104 HIDDEN EYES
morning for my health; eh? For two cents I’d
stick you in a hospital where you could be watched.
A fine place to get sick in-I don't think!” The
doctor eyed the disarray of the apartment.
Thornton laughed aloud.
“All right, if you're going to fill me full of habit-
forming dope, here's your chance!” He extended
a bare forearm.
“Habit-forming—tommyrot!” The doctor jabbed
in the needle sharply. “Maybe you'll get enough
nerve this way to talk business to—don't sit there,
dammit! Get in bed. Cover up. I ain't going to
hang around here a week.”
Obediently Thornton slipped beneath the covers,
while the doctor continued his grumbling:
“Now you sleep,” he ordered, “and come in when
you get down-town.” He picked up his hat and
turned once more to the door, while Thornton, al-
ready dozing, muttered a sleepy “Good night!”
The doctor darkened the room and slouched into
the corridor, closing the door quietly behind him.
He waddled into his automobile, noted that it was
nearly four o'clock, and groaned mightily, grum-
blingly complaining and lamenting his choice of a
profession, shoved down the starter and glided down


AN UNPROFESSIONAL VISIT 105
the street—streaked with the gray of the approach-
ing dawn.
Fifteen minutes later, his Brobdingnagian figure
clad in brightly-striped pajamas, the doctor smoked
a final cigarette. On his fat knees lay an open
volume, but his eyes had drifted from the book
until they surveyed the placid St. Johns River, which
flowed peacefully a quarter of a mile to the south.
Finally he let himself gently into his creaking bed.
“Just the same,” he muttered drowsily, “there's
no reason for that spasmodic reflex of the eyeball
unless—” But the doctor's speculations drifted into
nothingness, and his heavy breathing bespoke sleep.


CHAPTER VIII
THE THIRD VISITATION
RANKLIN, the detective, shuffled uneasily in
F his seat in Doctor Lester's reception-room,
while from the open door, leading into the doctor's
office and the laboratory beyond, came the sound of
airy humming, accompanied by much needless noise.
Franklin smoked a cigarette, drummed impa-
tiently on the arm of his chair, looked at his watch,
and finally lounged into the doctor's laboratory.
The office girl, busy with her cleaning, made as
though she did not notice him for a moment. He
cleared his throat clumsily and began to speak two
or three times before he finally blurted:
“How long before the doctor will be in, you
reckon?”
The girl turned as though but that moment aware
of his presence. “Ben Franklin, how many times
must I tell you that I don't know? And if you
don't quit bothering me—”
106


THE THIRD VISITATION 107
“Honest, Mae,” the man pleaded, “I want to see
him—I ain't kiddin’.”
The girl tossed her head.
“Well, wait then,” she advised curtly, but re-
lented at the sight of his woebegone expression.
“And if you want to make yourself useful you
might turn that switch there for the sterilizer—no,
stupid—the other one—here—” And she turned
to the man to show him the proper switch-button.
Perhaps it wasn't her fault that their hands met
at the switchboard; certainly it appeared to be her
intention to press the button. As a matter of fact,
the sterilizer remained dead, cold and neglected for
many minutes.
Later the girl fixed her hair.
“I think you're just staying because—” She left
the sentence unfinished, but a side glance spoke
volumes.
Franklin laughed, but shook his head.
“No, honest, girly—not that I wouldn't want to
stay, anyway, but—well—er—that is—I got some
business up here.”
“Go on!” The girl busied herself at a table.
“There's nobody up here for you to gumshoe
around!”


108 HIDDEN EYES
Franklin shook his head.
“Don’t you be too sure of that,” he smiled; “may-
be I'm watching you!”
The girl puckered her mouth and whistled taunt-
ingly, but broke off abruptly in the middle of a bar:
“If you don't go into that outside office and let
y
me work—'
“I’11—I’11—”
Franklin turned obediently to the door, and, for
perhaps five minutes, the sounds of renewed activity
proceeded from Doctor Lester's laboratory.
Then the girl tiptoed quietly to the door of the
she gasped, pushing the man away,
reception-room. Franklin, however, was not there.
She pouted and made her way across the room, but
ducked back hastily as she saw him pacing the cor-
ridor.
For a moment she sat quietly near the door;
then, as Franklin did not seem to have immediate
intentions of returning, she called to him:
“All right, then—you might as well wait in here
—if you just must.” º
Franklin reentered the room.
“Say, Mae,” he seemed embarrassed, “what time
does Mr. Thornton come down? Seen him yet?”
“You’ve been here as long as I have,” the girl re-


THE THIRD VISITATION 109
plied. “You were here with me, weren't you? Have
you seen him yet?” she mimicked.
“Pretty nice sort, ain't he?” Franklin's question-
ing was extremely clumsy.
The girl nodded.
“Uhuh. And a mighty good friend of the doc-
tor's, too; the doctor thinks he's going to-" A
step in the corridor interrupted, and Franklin jerked
about sharply to see who was passing.
When he turned again the girl was regarding him
scornfully.
“Ben Franklin—do you mean to sit there and tell
me that Mr. Thornton is the man you're watching?”
Franklin turned red. “Aw, come off, Mae. I
ain't told you a thing. You know I ain’t. What
d'you think I'd be watchin' him for?”
She eyed the red Franklin a moment and picked
up a magazine.
“I don't know,” she commented caustically, “but
it would be silly enough for you to be doing it.”
“When does he come in—usually?”
“Haven't I told you that I don't know?” The
girl paged through the magazine indifferently.
“I don't mean the doctor,” Franklin explained
hurriedly, “I mean—er—Mr. Thornton.”


110 H10DEN EYES
The girl slammed the magazine back on the table.
“Ben Franklin, tell me right out now—are you
watching for Mr. Thornton?”
“Aw, say, Mae,” the man began once more to ex-
postulate, then, noting the scornful expression in
her eyes: “Well, you needn't yell it out loud,” he
grumbled.
The girl's eyes flashed.
“Of all the idiotic things!” she gasped. “Just
wait till I tell Doctor Lester. What on earth do
you think you can learn from watching Mr. Thorn-
ton P”
The detective fidgeted in his chair.
“It ain't my fault, honest it ain’t, Mae, but the
chief's such a nut.” He got slowly to his feet and
crossed the office, sitting next to the girl. “Gee
whiz, Mae; don't jump on me about it.” Tenta-
tively he reached out for the girl's hand, but she
withdrew sharply.
“Are you sure you didn't ask to watch him?”
The hint of a smile began in the corner of her eyes.
Franklin, perceiving her reasoning, chuckled
aloud, but made no other reply, although he pos-
sessed himself of the girl's now unresisting hands.
“Say,” Franklin prefaced most of his remarks


THE THIRD VISITATION 111
that way, “as soon as they clean up this job, Mae,
I’m going to get that vacation.”
“Yes?” The girl drew closer.
“And then—”
Doctor Lester waddled heavily into the room,
breaking into Franklin's speech to the girl. The two
slid hurriedly apart, but the huge doctor only
nodded smilingly.
“Good morning. Why the detective force so
early P Didn't get much sleep, did you?” The doc-
tor chuckled. “Better watch out, Mae,” he warned.
Franklin came to his feet.
“Good morning, Doctor,” he grinned, “maybe it's
Mae here that brings me. I’d like—” He turned
awkwardly to the girl, who blushed rosily.
“Don’t pay any attention to him, Doctor,” she
remarked, “he's just a stupid fly-cop.” She flung
out the expression and ducked hastily behind a table
as Franklin made a grab for her.
Laughing his huge rumbling laugh, the doctor
continued into his office. From there he called in a
moment:
“Seen anything of Mr. Thornton this morning,
Mae?”
The girl's eyes leaped to the man's beside her.


112 HIDDEN EYES
“No-no, sir, not yet,” she called back.
“All right.” The doctor was evidently already
thinking of something else, for, in a moment, the
sound of running water came from the laboratory.
The detective turned to the girl again.
“He ain't coming up right away, I don't think.
He was going down to the bank with the chief this
morning.”
“Is that what you're watching him for?” Sud-
denly the girl laughed aloud. “Oh, that's too funny!
Of all the men in town, you stupid—”
Doctor Lester appeared again in the doorway.
“I’m going down to the Second National, Mae,”
he explained. “Be back in about an hour. You can
get me there.” He turned to Franklin. “You’re
going down, too, aren't you?” he invited.
Franklin nodded and picked up his hat from the
table, while the girl smiled, then made a face at him
as the doctor turned his back.
Together the two men left the office and made
their way to the Second National Bank, a few blocks
away.
An interested group stood about the closed door
of the big vault in the Second National Bank build-
ing. The skeptical chief of detectives, with his


THE THIRD VISITATION 113
cigar clamped tight in the corner of his mouth;
Hayes, the bank president, and the two junior of
ficers, Kingsley and Harkiss; likewise old Jensen,
the ex-policeman and now watchman of the bank
property, and, last, Thornton, a puzzled frown on
his face, and a queer look in his eyes.
“Well, how about it?” grumbled the chief, and
Thornton threw aside his coat and rolled up his
shirt-sleeves as he stood, legs apart, gazing frown-
ingly at the closed circular door, with its double
combination dials and the large wheel that controlled
the levers.
The bank president nodded,
“I admit, Mr. Thornton, that we are somewhat
skeptical—” he began, and stopped as the detective
approached, the huge doctor waddling gravely be-
hind him.
Thornton apparently did not hear, and it was only
when the big man slapped him on the shoulder that
he looked up, startled.
“Oh, hello, Lester,” he smiled, seeming again his
natural self. “Well, I’m going to take a shot at it,
but it looks strong, doesn't it?”
Doctor Lester eyed the glistening surface of the
vault-door.


114 HIDDEN EYES
“Huh!” he grunted, “the devil himself can't break
into that thing. Go to it, Mr. Jimmy Valentine, Jr.”
“Yeh,” sneered the chief heavily, “go to it.”
Thornton turned again to the vault, fixing his
eyes on the clock at the top, the face of which was
sunk flush with the vault's surface. The clock had
been set, arbitrarily, at five minutes past eight.
The bank officials smiled smugly as they watched
the young man. It was patent that, to them, the
idea of entering the vault was ridiculous.
Thornton nodded slowly, muttering his thoughts
aloud.
“First the clock, of course.” He seemed puzzled
a moment, and turned to an electric light switch to
one side of the vault. “What does this control?”
Hayes, the president, smiled as he answered:
“Merely the lights inside the vault, Mr. Thorn-
ton.”
Thornton pondered this.
“Is your current independent of the building, or
are you all on one circuit?”
The president shrugged.
“I haven't an idea, Mr. Thornton—all the same,
I suppose.”
The watchman stepped nearer to Thornton.


THE THIRD VISITATION 115
“Beggin' your pardon, sir, there's a string of fuse-
plugs in that box there.”
He indicated a boxlike affair on the wall to one
side, which Thornton approached. He opened the
front and stared a moment at the row of shiny
plugs. Then he smiled and his hand went out with
a certain gesture to one side and began to unscrew
one of the isinglass-topped fuse-plugs.
| Suddenly the chief of detectives gave a startled
grunt as the hands of the clock dropped suddenly
to eight-thirty.
The doctor's eyes grew a bit larger, and he fixed
them intently on Thornton, while wondering ex-
pressions appeared suddenly on the faces of the
bank officials.
Thornton returned to the vault-door smiling.
“Well, Chief, that's how the current went,” he
boasted. “Silly, too, to connect it that way.”
He bent over the vault-door and began toying
with the numbered dial of a combination, and Har-
kiss, the cashier, turned to the chief and grinned
behind his palm.
“He’s got the wrong one,” he whispered, and the
chief only frowned in return, shaking his head for
silence.


116 HIDDEN EYES
Thornton worked hurriedly a few moments, then
passed to the dial on the face of which letters took
the place of the numbers. In perhaps five minutes,
during which time only the heavy breathing of the
spectators broke the silence, he straightened slowly
from his task, relaxing his muscles, and shook his
head.
“Can't make it, eh?” The bank president smiled.
“’S matter?” grunted the chief sarcastically.
Thornton turned. “There's absolutely not the
slightest quiver,” he said shortly. “One thing sure,
no one learned those combinations by their sense
of touch. There's no feel there, that's all.”
“Well,” the chief began heavily, but Thornton
did not heed the interruption, and turned to the
doctor, saying:
“There's one other way to try. Lend me your
stethoscope, Lester; got it?”
Doctor Lester twisted grotesquely and brought
the instrument from his hip-pocket. He handed it
over with a grin and the chortled warning:
“Careful of it, Hal, I ain't got another one.”
The chief of detectives snorted his disgust, and
the officers of the bank smiled leisurely and superi-
orly as Thornton took the stethoscope, adjusted it


THE THIRD VISITATION 117
carefully into his ears, and once more approached
the vault.
This time, with the flat disk of the stethoscope
pressed against the steel door, he twisted the com-
bination of the letter dial slowly, so slowly that it
seemed to the watching men that the shiny circle of
steel scarcely turned.
After a moment Thornton straightened slowly,
and, still holding the stethoscope against the vault-
door, he turned the large center wheel carefully.
Again he turned his full attention to the smaller
combination dial. Suddenly he turned, removing
the stethoscope.
“H!” he jerked out triumphantly—“six to the
right to HI” And he laughed aloud as he caught
the look of surprise on the face of Harkiss.
The chief remained silent, staring wide-eyed at
Thornton, and the big doctor chuckled as Thornton
explained:
“Of course, knowing the beginning, I can work
it—in time—using ‘H’ for the key letter, and be-
ginning with this letter each time, go through the
alphabet.”
“And the numbers?” It was Harkiss, the cashier,
who put the question.


118 HIDDEN EYES
Thornton looked toward the man.
“That could be worked out, I think,” he said
quietly. “You see, I know you don't alternate num-
bers and letters.” He smiled at the expression of
astonishment that showed again on the cashier's
face.
“How do you know that?” grumbled the chief.
Thornton's smile broadened.
“You’re not remembering, Chief, that I know
these vaults,” he reminded. “I can tell by the way
the combinations are placed. The alternating com-
bination knobs in this particular type of vault are
placed one under the other.”
The chief was silenced for a moment, then:
“How long do you figure it would take you to get
in there?”
“Working continually,” Thornton answered, “and
without interruptions”—he thought a moment—“I’d
say twenty-four hours.”
Doctor Lester interrupted heavily. “Then what
in the name of common sense did you expect to
learn?”
“Just what I did,” Thornton answered quietly.
“The man who opened this vault knew the combina-
tions!”


THE THIRD VISITATION 119
* Both Harkiss and Kingsley turned a dull-red, and
the former opened his mouth to expostulate. The
president's hand fell on his arm.
“Easy there,” he counseled, and turned to the
others. “If you don't mind”—he apologized—
“they'll be needing this open in earnest.”
He led the way up-stairs and into his private of
fice.
On the steps the fat doctor drew alongside Thorn-
ton. “Feel pretty good?” he questioned.
Thornton nodded.
“Yes—all right now, thanks. I don’t think there
was anything really wrong.”
The doctor grumbled beneath his breath, and the
chief of detectives turned to whisper to Franklin
as they entered the office:
“You don't want to lose this guy a minute, under-
stand?”
The detective nodded and detached himself from
the group, wandering into the banking floor proper,
which presented the usual busy Saturday morning
SCelle.
The bank president passed around a box of
cigars. The chief lighted one immediately, while
Doctor Lester produced a crumpled package of


120 HIDDEN EYES
cigarettes from a capacious pocket. Thornton merely
shook his head, declining the invitation to smoke,
and dropped into a chair.
“Ralby didn't come with you?” he questioned
the doctor, and seemed nervous.
The doctor grinned.
“Stealing a march on you, maybe, eh?” he
grunted. “He’s got a new launch, you know—”
The bank president turned to the chief.
“You saw the papers this morning?”
The chief nodded.
“And that's just a beginning to what they're going
to have to say about it,” he remarked. “But how
the devil can I help it? I’m doing what I can, ain’t
I?” He turned in his perplexity to the doctor, who
had remained standing.
The doctor frowned and turned from a contem-
plation of Thornton's averted face. -
“Don’t ask me, Chief,” he grumbled. “I’m not
Nick Carter.”
The chief nodded.
“That's just it,” he complained; “from the way
the Times-Union waded into me this morning you'd
think I was Nick Carter or Craig Kennedy, or may-
be Sherlock Holmes. But this—” He waved his


THE THIRD VISITATION 121
hand helplessly. “We’re just as much in the air as
ever.”
Thornton objected. “There's one thing you
might do, Chief. Take it up with the Defy people.
And isn't there some way of getting a line on the
people who might have known the combinations?”
He turned to the president: “By the way, Mr.
Hayes, have you changed them?”
The banker shook his head, and dropped his voice
to a low tone as he answered:
“Not yet; the board seemed to think it best to
leave them in the hope that we'll receive a return
visit from Mr. Burglar.”
The chief groaned, and the doctor chuckled heav-
ily. “It isn't likely, is it, Chief?”
“Huh? How’d I know? But, believe me, he'll
get a warm reception if he does show up again.”
“Still,” Thornton continued, “you're taking use-
less chances. If I–”
A knock on the door interrupted, and, frowning,
the president called “All right.” The cashier en-
tered, followed by a burly police officer who panted
heavily.
The chief dropped his cigar and came swiftly to
his feet as his eyes fell on the uniformed man.


CHAPTER IX
SUGGESTION
ARKISS, the cashier, turned to the president
of the Second National Bank, who, in turn,
eyed Doctor Lester and Thornton. The chief of
detective's departure had been sudden and abrupt.
“Well,” jerked out the cashier finally, “that's
about all of us.”
Doctor Lester's small eyes fixed themselves in-
tently on Thornton again. Thornton stood thought-
fully, still gazing at the door through which the
chief had so summarily departed. It was evident
that Doctor Lester was less interested in the bank
robberies than in the physical condition of his friend.
He took Thornton's arm, grumbled good-by, and
started with him to the door. Thornton walked
silently by the doctor's side through the bank and
out into the street.
“By George!” ejaculated the doctor suddenly.
123


124 HIDDEN EYES
“I’d almost forgot a patient. Let's get a move on.”
And the two men hurried up the street together.
“What do you think of it now?” questioned the .
doctor, puffing laboriously as they neared the St.
James Building.
Thornton shook his head.
“It's got me beat,” he admitted slowly, “plumb
beat.” And he relapsed into a moody study.
Thornton preceded the doctor into the building,
and a speculative gleam shone in the doctor's little
eyes as he watched his friend.
The two men entered the doctor's office, and
Franklin, who had followed them from the bank,
grumbled as he took up a position at the end of the
corridor, mentally determining to follow them into
the office within a few minutes.
In the reception-room Mae was playing with the
little girl on whom the doctor had called the night
before.
“Ah,” greeted the doctor, with heavy joviality,
“how's the little lady to-day?”
The furtive look of fear that seemed to linger
in the girl's eyes disappeared for an instant as she
smiled: “Good morning, Doctor Lester.” She ex-


SUGGESTION 125
tended a small hand, over which the huge man
bowed with all gravity.
“I’ll be ready for the lady in a minute,” he
chuckled, beckoning Thornton to follow him into
his office. “Just play a minute more.” Then:
“Anything else turn up, Mae?”
The office girl shook her head.
“Nothing else, no, sir.”
Doctor Lester turned to Thornton in his private
office.
“There's a poor devil of a kid with too much imag-
ination,” he grumbled. “You’ll wind up with a
new-fashioned mania of some kind, too, if you don't
quit this infernally close application to work.”
Thornton grinned.
“Work? What have I done these past few days?”
“You’ve done worse than work,” grumbled the
big man. “You’re bothered too much about these
robberies. What’re they to you? Let 'em all be
robbed—you should worry. What you need is a
rest and a change. Go fishing for a week. By
George, I'm half a mind to go with—” The door
opened and the doctor turned. “Ah, Ralby, come
in; I was wondering whether you'd show up.”


126 HIDDEN EYES
Ralby, immaculately dressed, entered jauntily. He
stared a moment as his eyes rested on Thornton,
then nodded pleasantly:
“Good morning, Thornton—well, how did the
vault opening go?” There seemed a lack of interest
in his voice, which the doctor did not fail to notice.
It was evident that Morton Ralby had but small
faith in Thornton's vault-opening abilities.
“It didn't go,” Thornton answered. “That is, I
got the first letter, but it would take at least twenty-
four hours to work anything from that.”
Ralby nodded understandingly.
“Of course. You didn't really expect—” He
left the sentence unfinished, but Thornton answered:
“Oh, I don't know. I feel sometimes as though I
know I can get into the thing; then again I’m just
as sure I can't—that no one can.”
Ralby smiled and turned unconcernedly to the
doctor.
“There's a problem in psychology for you,
Lester.”
The doctor didn’t smile in return.
“I wonder if you heard about the Bay Street
Bank?” he asked.
“Why, no.” Ralby's face expressed mild inquiry.


SUGGESTION 127
“What's gone wrong there? I’ve got a few dollars
there myself.”
“Well, our gentleman cracksman friend walked
into their vault last night.”
“Last night?”
“Well, I don't know just when,” the doctor
grumbled, “but it seems as though he made two trips
—one to the St. John's and one to the Bay Street.”
Thornton nodded to confirm the doctor's state-
mentS.
“We haven't got the details—but it's a fact. That
man is a genius—a pure genius—”
Ralby laughed pleasantly and easily.
“Genius? I'd call him something besides that,
Thornton.”
Thornton shrugged, but his eyes glistened.
“By heaven, I hope they get him!” he cried, and
Ralby applauded:
“Admirable hope, Thornton; so does the doctor
here—he stands to win five hundred. But two at
a time is rubbing it in a bit. I’d give a whole lot
to know that cracksman's thoughts.”
The doctor, who had busied himself at his desk,
heaved his huge shoulders.
“Don’t be too sure about that bet, Ralby,” he


128 HIDDEN EYES
grumbled. “I wouldn't crow yet if I were you.
Fact is, your cracksman is getting too impertinent
for comfort. He'll lose out one of these times.”
Ralby smiled at the doctor.
“I’m not crowing, Lester; you've still got plenty
of time to win, of course, but I think—” He broke
off and Thornton queried:
“What?”
“Oh, nothing,” Ralby spread his well-manicured
fingers in a wide gesture, “except if our friend has
finished with the Bay Street bank, there's nothing
left for him to do, is there? He'll probably have
to move farther north.”
Thornton slumped in his chair.
“That's true,” he admitted dolefully, “but he
might make a second trip to one of them.”
“Don’t you believe it.” Ralby nodded positively.
“The man who has been pulling these robberies isn't
your typical criminal, I'll gamble on that. He hasn't
the criminal mind, Thornton—and I don’t believe
he's the kind to run any silly chances.”
The doctor looked up.
“Well, there's the Farmer's National left.”
“That's right,” Thornton ejaculated. “I’d for-
gotten about that.”


SUGGESTION 129
Ralby laughed again.
“I wouldn't be surprised to hear of him trying it.
He seems out for a clean sweep. By the way, Isa-
bel has an account there. She mentioned it this
morning.”
Thornton looked a question and Ralby continued:
“We were down at the jetties this morning,” he
explained, “that's why I didn't show up for the ex-
periment on the vault. Bernice and Max and Isabel
and I. They're going to make a fine couple, Ber-
nice and Max!”
“They are, indeed,” Thornton agreed heartily.
“They act like a couple of school children; yet he
has the responsibilities of a-”
“That's just it,” nodded the doctor sagely. “The
more responsibility you pile on Max the better he
carries it. Now if you were the prosecuting at-
torney,” the doctor turned to Thornton, “you'd have
some right to worry yourself into a nervous break-
down, and you probably would. Did you do any
fishing, Ralby ?”
Ralby shook his head.
“Nope, just trying out the launch. We went
pretty early—about seven o'clock—which means
that nobody got a great deal of sleep last night.


130 HIDDEN EYES
Just got back a few minutes ago; I came all the way
in with the launch and up here direct; that's prob-
ably why I hadn't heard about the Bay Street af-
fair.”
Thornton made as if to reply, but the doctor in-
terrupted with a gesture.
“Let’s forget it,” he suggested. “I want you to
see this anyway, Ralby—”
He passed a history sheet over to Ralby, who took
the paper and studied it carefully.
“Oh, yes, that's our little persecution-mania pa-
tient, eh? Going to try suggestion?”
The doctor nodded ponderously, and placed be-
fore him a small black box which he drew from a
drawer of his desk.
“Wanted you to see it, Ralby,” he rumbled.
“You, too, Thornton; take your mind off this in-
fernal bank business.”
The doctor rose and heaved himself to the door.
“All right, Mae,” he called, “let’s have the little
lady in.”
He returned to the office and indicated a chair
for Thornton to one side of his desk.
“You sit there,” he ordered, “and you stand over
here, Ralby, out of the way. I'll sit here—so.” He


SUGGESTION 131
pulled a desk chair over toward the small lounge
to one side.
The girl entered the office timidly, tightly holding
to the office girl's hand. She gazed anxiously about,
then, as though reassured by the smiling faces which
met her gaze, she smiled weakly. Doctor Lester
lifted her on to the couch, and nodded shortly to the
office girl, who left the room, closing the door be-
hind her.
“So,” Doctor Lester muttered, patting the girl's
arm gently. “Sit there, honey. Now what's wrong,
eh? Sleep all right after I left you?”
“Yes, sir.” The girl smiled into the doctor's face.
“I—I did then.”
“Now, isn't that fine?” The doctor's huge voice
bubbled joyously. “That's just great. And nobody
came running after you?”
A frightened look leaped into the girl's eyes; then
she smiled wistfully.
“No-no, sir, not after you left—but—” she
trembled violently—“I’m so afraid, Doctor—I—”
The doctor clucked commiseratingly with his
tongue.
“Now that isn't right,” he grumbled. “You
know there's nothing really going to bother you.


132 HIDDEN EYES
Let me tell you something;” he leaned forward con-
fidentially. “I’m going to tell you a story about a
little girl—just about your size, too—who wouldn't
go to sleep at night.”
He hitched his chair closer to the couch and put
away his cigarette.
The girl smiled at the huge awkward man, and he
winked broadly in answer.
“Now, you listen,” he demanded, and began:
“Once upon a time there were two bad little boys
and two bad little girls. Yes'm. The boys would
run around stealing apples and—and—well, what-
ever little boys steal, and the little girls would hide
from their mothers, and wouldn't go to sleep on
time, nor wouldn't eat their suppers, nor—” The
doctor's voice was low and monotonous and the lit-
tle girl on the couch, her eyes fixed intently on the
doctor's face, listened eagerly.
He spun out a weirdly crude fairy tale, his voice
becoming slower and more monotonous as he spoke,
and his hands played idly with the little black box
he had removed from his desk.
This he opened slyly, and slowly began to twist
in his short fingers a glistening crystal.
The girl's eyes drifted to the crystal and held


SUGGESTION 133
there, and the doctor's low monotone continued his
story, as he saw the girl's eyes hold hard in the very
center of the shimmering sphere—then slowly grow
dull and staring.
The doctor leaned forward and lowered her
gently, until she rested easily on the lounge. Then
he straightened, mopping his forehead.
“I guess I haven't got Grimm nor Andersen
backed off the boards,” he grumbled.
He turned to Ralby, who was intently watching
the still figure on the couch. “Well, Ralby ?”
Ralby nodded slowly. “Very good,” he muttered,
“very good. Rather easy, wasn't she?”
The doctor shrugged.
“I’ve got a mighty fine crystal, for one thing.”
He leaned over the couch and began to speak to
the unconscious girl; as he spoke a nuance of au-
thority and earnestness crept into the heavy timbre
of his voice, and Thornton glanced with surprise at
this hulking bull of a man.
Once again his chronic grouchiness and roughness
seemed to fall from him, and Thornton forgot the
grotesque figure as he listened to the low command-
ing voice, making suggestions and speaking slowly
and carefully.


134 HIDDEN EYES
The doctor straightened and turned to Thornton,
staring at him through his little eyes, while one hand
fumbled mechanically at his coat for a cigarette.
Thornton marveled at the metamorphosis. Here
was again the Doctor Edward Lester he knew : easy-
going, grumbling, smoking innumerable cigarettes,
and as phlegmatic and blasé as the Sphinx itself.
“That's about all I can do, eh, Ralby?” The doc-
tor puffed his cigarette, and Ralby nodded.
“I wouldn't look for too definite results immedi-
ately, Lester,” he warned. “She seems—well—”
he shrugged lightly. “And I’d wait about a week
between treatments.”
Ralby turned away from the couch, and the big
doctor spun the crystal lightly in his fingers as he
bent over the sleeping girl.
He spoke quickly and commandingly, then laughed
gutturally:
“My, but we're a sleepy-head.”
He shook a thick finger under the girl's eyes as
she opened them and laughed.
“I was so awfully tired,” she apologized.
“Aw,” the doctor rumbled, “don’t you know it
isn't polite to go to sleep when you've got com-


SUGGESTION 135
pany?” He stooped and helped the girl into a sit-
ting posture.
“Is mama coming for you?” The doctor's voice
was jokingly inquiring.
The girl shook her head.
“No, sir; I'm going home—all the way—by my-
self,” she boasted.
“You don't say!” The doctor lifted her from
the couch. “And I’ll bet you get plumb lost on the
way,” he chuckled.
“I’ll bet you I won't, either,” the girl laughed
challengingly, and the doctor opened the door.
In a few moments he leaned back heavily in his
chair, deep lines appearing about his eyes. He
yawned hugely.
“Gosh, but I’m about played out. This business
of getting home in the wee sma' hours is beginning
to tell on my frail physique.” He eyed his huge fig-
ure spraddled in the chair.
Ralby lit a cigarette, extending the case to Thorn-
ton, who shook his head.
It was Thornton who broke the short silence that
followed:
“And you think she’ll obey commands, Doctor?”


136 HIDDEN EYES
The doctor shrugged his shoulders.
“Quien sabe?” he muttered. “There's a good
chance that she will, anyway. What do you think,
Ralby?”
Ralby started.
“Eh P Oh, yes! Yes, there's a chance,” he ad-
mitted.
Thornton smiled wearily.
“I wish somebody would convince me I didn't
feel rotten.”
Doctor Lester looked up sharply as Thornton
swayed in his chair. Both Ralby and the doctor
leaped to their feet. Thornton, however, recovered
himself, and sat upright.
The doctor turned immediately to his laboratory
and returned in an instant with a partly filled glass.
“Drink this,” he snapped, and Thornton obeyed,
smiling.
The doctor reached for his hat. “You’re com-
ing with me,” he grumbled. “You’re going home
and to bed, and there you'll stay until morning if
I have to sit on you.”
Ralby nodded.
“Quit bothering about this infernal bank business,
Thornton,” he urged. “It won't do to have you go


CHAPTER X
THORNTON HAS A TOUCH OF MALARIA
R. turned and reentered the St. James
Building, stopping before a suite of offices on
the ground floor, the doors of which were marked:
“Morton Ralby & Company,” and down in one cor-
ner the legend: “Real Estate.”
It was past noon, the usual Saturday hour for
closing, and but few clerks remained in the office.
These seemed surprised at Ralby's appearance. It
was unusual of him to come to his offices on Sat-
urday.
Ralby spoke a word to a man behind a desk and
turned into a private office. He shook his head
slightly as he removed his hat and dropped into a
chair before his desk. A few moments later he
picked up the telephone and gave a number. When
the connection was made, he tapped a pencil im-
patiently on his desk as he asked:
“How did Steel close? Mr. Ralby speaking.”
138


A TOUCH OF MALARIA 139
His face lighted as he listened. “Up a bit, isn't
she? Hold on a while, and we'll get out from under,
all right.”
He hung up the receiver as the man to whom he
had spoken in the outer office entered.
“Well?” Ralby rose to his feet, preparing to
leave.
“Beg pardon, Mr. Ralby; thought you'd like to
see the contractors' estimate for that Moncrief
drainage.” He extended a file of papers which
Ralby took and paged through.
“That doesn't look so bad, does it?” Ralby played
thoughtfully with the papers in his hands. “Prop-
erly done—you'd attend to the contract, of course—
there ought to be considerable money in the sub-
division.”
The office man nodded.
“It looks good, Mr. Ralby,” he agreed. “I’d
advise handling it.” *
Ralby smiled.
“Well, the work will be yours, anyway ; I'm will-
ing to tackle it. Have the papers drawn up and I’ll
sign them Monday. How much of a guarantee are
we to deposit?”
“Five thousand dollars, I believe.”


140 HIDDEN EYES
“Can't beat that down any at all?” Ralby frowned
over the figure.
“Afraid not, sir. But the Second National—if
we let them in on it—would be glad to advance—”
Ralby waved his hand impatiently.
“Nothing doing,” he said definitely. “We'll keep
this for ourselves. I’ll see about the guarantee, all
right. It will be ready when the contract's signed.”
“Good.” The office man seemed pleased with the
prospect. “In five years there ought to be—”
Ralby made his way to the door.
“Don’t you go figuring profits on me,” he laughed.
“I don't want any air-castles.” He stood aside as
the man left the office and waited for a moment.
“That's all,” he added briefly, and closed the door.
For a time he stood irresolute, then, with a half
laugh turned to the telephone again.
“Main, four, four, two, three.” Ralby was smiling
into the transmitter when the answer came. “Miss
Isabel, please—” He waited a moment, then: “Re-
covered from the trip, Isabel? Yes, this is Morton.
I'm glad you enjoyed it. Listen, I’ve two perfectly
good tickets for the show to-night, What?” He
frowned slightly. “Yes—y-e-s—I saw Hal here in
the building. No-no wonder you couldn't get him;


A TOUCH OF MALARIA 141
he left some time ago with the doctor. How should
I know?” The little frown grew deeper. Then:
“Lester said something about taking him along
down to St. Augustine; he'll hardly be back this
afternoon.” Ralby smiled again. “You will go!
That's fine. I'll come for you at eight. All right,
Isabel. Until to-night, then.”
He replaced the receiver and leaned back, smiling,
in his chair. “That's one march stolen on Hal,”
he chuckled as he glanced at his watch.
Then he pressed the telephone once more into
service, calling the office of the prosecuting attorney.
“Hello. Hello, Max. Going to work all the
afternoon?” Ralby laughed at the answer that
came to him. “Yeh,” he mocked. “Of all the
loafers in town, you're about the biggest. What
are you doing this afternoon? Oh, excuse me! I
might have known the lady wouldn't let you off.
Have lunch with me, anyhow. All right, at the
Mason, in fifteen minutes.”
Ralby passed through his deserted offices and into
the street. Within a few minutes he was smiling
across a small table at Max Railey, and laughing
easily at that young gentleman's description of a
recently acquired set of books.


142 HIDDEN EYES
“I suppose,” Ralby began later, “that you heard
something about the Bay Street Bank robbery,” and,
as the young attorney nodded his head, Ralby ques-
tioned: “He didn’t take two at a time, did he?”
The young attorney ran his fingers through his
hair in a gesture habitual with him.
“Demme, Ralby—as Lester says—the thing's be-
ginning to get on my nerves, too. I only heard
about the Bay Street business a few minutes ago.
It wasn't discovered until late in the morning, and
there's no way of telling just when it did happen.
The loss was slight—of no consequence, this time;
but just the idea that our bank vaults are about as
safe as an old stocking is something of a jar.”
Ralby lighted a cigarette and dropped the match
into a tray on the table before he answered.
“Why not try to get some detectives from up
North on it?” he questioned. “It seems rather silly
to leave it to our crowd; they're evidently making
no progress, and it wouldn't surprise me if the rob-
ber got clean away, now that he's about through
here.”
The man across the table dipped his fingers
thoughtfully into a bowl, and dried his hands slowly.
“One thing, at least, Ralby,” he said, “I’m glad


A TOUCH OF MALARIA 143
I’m not in the chief's shoes. The papers are be-
ginning to hammer him hard, and I hate to think
what they'll do to him in the Sunday editions to-
morrow. By the way, what came of Thornton's
attempt to enter that vault this morning?”
Ralby laughed.
“Got back too late from our little trip,” he an-
swered, “but I saw Thornton and Lester. It wasn't
exactly a success, and Thornton's more positive
than ever—and said so—that when that vault was
opened it was by some one who knew the combina-
tions—both of them.”
“Rather rough on the crowd at the bank, isn't it?”
The young attorney grinned. “It’s like Thornton,
though. He's nothing if not positive. He doesn't
look well these days, either, Ralby—physically, I
mean; seems run down. Noticed it?”
Ralby nodded.
“Yes. He had a bad attack this morning; that
is, he's just about worked out—collapsed. And this
infernal business is worrying him a good deal.
Went home, finally, with Lester, who was threaten-
ing to stay with him all the afternoon.”
Ralby turned quickly to the younger man.
“Don’t mention it to Bernice, Max. She'd tell


144 HIDDEN EYES
Isabel, and there'd be the devil to pay. Nothing
would suit Isabel better than to imagine Thornton
needed nursing. And she'd be fool enough to under-
take it, too.” -
The younger man looked slyly at Ralby and smiled
at his earnestness. Ralby flushed; then laughed as
he arose.
“Just the same,” he boasted, “Isabel's going with
me to-night.”
“Theater?”
Ralby nodded smilingly. “Sure, and probably a
spin on the river in the launch afterward.”
“I’ll see you then,” the young man replied, “My
own heaven-born has just announced her desire to
see the play.”
The two men shook hands and parted, and Ralby
looked after the retreating figure of the young at-
torney.
“I wish I were as certain,” he muttered enviously,
“as Max is of Bernice.”
Doctor Edward Lester was a picture of content-
ment. Slumped far down in a huge chair in Thorn-
ton's bedroom, an ash-tray at his side, a half-empty
glass on the table beside him, and a book in his


A TOUCH OF MALARIA 145
pudgy hands, he seemed more than ever to personify
sloth and laziness.
Now and then he glanced toward the bed in which
Thornton lay, slightly pale, but sleeping quietly,
and once he laid aside his book and studied Thorn-
ton's face intently, muttering his thoughts aloud:
“Just plumb played out, that's all,” he grumbled.
“Needs a fishing trip—or a wife.” He chuckled
at his own wit, and began to muse upon the idea of
Thornton married.
The book in his hands dropped unheeded into his
lap, and he tapped a cigarette against the arm of
his chair unconsciously. “Naw—” he grumbled
aloud suddenly, “it isn't possible—of course it
isn't—”
“What isn't, Lester?”
The doctor jerked erect, and his eyes fell on
Thornton sitting upright in bed.
“None of your business,” he growled, heaving
himself heavily to his feet and lurching across the
room. “You get back down into that bed where
you belong.”
Thornton smiled and obeyed.
“I’m afraid I’m about slept out, though. What
time is it?”


146 HIDDEN EYES
The doctor looked at his watch.
“Nearly six,” he answered as he switched on the
electric light. “And not a single call for me,” he
chuckled. “Some peaceful day, eh?”
Thornton stared at the ceiling silently, and the
doctor turned again to his chair, which he drew
closer to the bed.
“Might as well chew the rag with you a while,”
he grunted. “Tired of reading anyway.” He ex-
tended a cigarette to Thornton. “Here, you can
smoke one,” he offered, and Thornton grinned his
thanks.
“From the treatment I get,” he laughed, “one
would think I was really sick. Is this the way you
get patients, Lester? Joshing them along that
they're really in a bad way?”
The doctor yawned mightily.
“Go on, rub it in,” he growled. “Just the same,
you were close to being a mighty sick man this
morning. And if I hadn't filled you full of "
“Go on,” Thornton laughed, “I feel fit as can be.
Just a touch of malaria, that's all.”
“Yeh, malaria?” sneered the big man heavily.
“You’d better write a book on it. When did the
malaria ever act like sunstroke?” he demanded.


A TOUCH OF MALARIA 147
“And when I got you into that bed you were about
out—that's a fact.”
Thornton turned his head until his eyes met the
doctor's.
“Of course, Lester,” he began quietly, “I’m not a
fool, and I’m more than obliged—”
“Then shut up,” grumbled the doctor hurriedly.
“Let me do the talking.”
For several minutes he smoked in silence, then :
“Tell me, Thornton, what happened to you at
Isabel's last night? I mean, just how did you feel
when you woke up?”
Thornton frowned a moment.
“I don't know, Lester. Much as I do now. Felt
pretty good, in fact. Think it's the same thing?”
“Naw,” grumbled the doctor, “how can I think
anything? Maybe,” he was heavily sarcastic, “maybe
it's malaria,” and he exploded in a laugh of con-
tempt.
“Surely you're not going to keep me flat on my
back here all night?” Thornton queried.
“I am just that,” grumbled the doctor. “You
might as well be satisfied. When I leave here you'll
be with the little birdies again.” He grinned at
Thornton.


148 HIDDEN EYES
“And dreaming about burglar-proof vaults that
aren't burglar-proof,” grumbled Thornton.
“Forget it,” snapped the doctor. “Just get it off
your mind. You've got other things to worry
about.”
The telephone on the table cut in on the conver-
sation and the doctor lumbered across the room to
a11SWer.
“Huh? Yes. Yes, he's here. Doctor Lester
talking. Sorry, Chief, I've got Thornton laid up,
and he'll stay laid up until to-morrow morning. No,
nothing serious. Just nervous, I reckon. Nothing
special you wanted, was there? All right then; I'll
tell him. He'll be down-town to-morrow, but to—
night he stays here in bed; you can bet on that.”
He turned to the bedside.
“Your friend, the chief,” he commented caustic-
ally. “Probably wanted to bother you about some
of his theories. Nothing doing.”
Thornton looked at the doctor.
“All right,” he complained, “but don't I get any-
thing to eat?”
“Eat? Eat?” The big doctor's face purpled. “Is
that all you think about? Eat? I guess nix. If I
can stand it,” the doctor surveyed his corpulent self,


A TOUCH OF MALARIA 149
“you can. And when you come to in the morning,
don’t make a dash for a restaurant, Get that?”
Thornton grumbled, and the big doctor continued
earnestly:
“I’m not joshing you, Hal, You've got a fine
chance to be damned sick, and that's a fact. To-
morrow I want you to eat one egg, one piece of
toast, and drink one glass of milk.” The doctor
checked the items off on his fingers. “Understand?”
Thornton nodded.
“And come up to the office in the morning. We'll
have lunch together. Now you're going by-by-"
The doctor laughed hugely, and turned to the bath-
room. He returned, replacing a pocket-case, and
carrying a glass.
Thornton obediently gulped the contents and sank
back in the pillows.
The doctor picked up his book: Alexander Du-
mas's Memoirs of a Physician and turned to the
table, Thornton's eyes following him.
“There's no reason to bother with me all night,
Lester,” he said. “I’ll stay put.”
The doctor chuckled as though at a joke, glancing
at the empty glass he put on the table.
“For twelve hours, you bet you will!” he grunted.


CHAPTER XI
THE FOURTH VISITATION
HE chief of detectives was in anything but a
happy frame of mind as he boarded the street-
car Sunday morning before his house, and his good
morning to the conductor was growled surlily. It
seemed to the irate chief that every passenger on the
car smiled knowingly as he entered and dropped into
a seat, unfolding a newspaper.
At his breakfast-table he had read the Times-
Union's heavily leaded and sarcastically adjectived
account of the robberies of Saturday, and had called
down all manner of vengeance on the scribes who
were taunting the city's detective force with inef-
ficiency and laxity, and who demanded instant sum-
mary apprehension of the criminal.
The Metropolis, Jacksonville's other paper, had
handled the chief more kindly, but had rehashed all
details of the three bank robberies, and hinted
broadly to the administration of the advisability of
calling in aid from the detective departments of at
151


152 HIDDEN EYES
least two other towns, naming Atlanta and Birming-
ham especially.
The chief's breakfast coffee had been left un-
tasted, and the telephone call that he had received
from the office—an urgent request to come immedi-
ately—capped the climax.
He had snapped his answers to the unoffending
official at the other end of the wire, but was able to
learn only that a gentleman desired to see him im-
mediately in person, nor would the gentleman, whom
the chief's informant characterized over the phone
as “a little runt,” state his business further than to
say that it was urgently important, and had to do
with the matter of a local bank.
The chief's wrath grew with each block that the
car traveled, and when his eyes fell on an editorial
comment headed:
THE DEBACLE OF A MUNICIPAL
DEPARTMENT
he swore heavily under his breath.
Nevertheless he read the account, which com-
mented ironically on the inability of the detective
department to apprehend a criminal who, so the
editorial ran:


THE FOURTH VISITATION 153
seems to care little whether he works in the broad
daylight or in the darkness of night, and to whom
steel, burglar-proof vaults—and detectives—are but
little more than a joke.
The chief crumpled the newspaper in his hand,
and eyed a man in the seat across from him bellig-
erently.
When the car drew up before the municipal build-
ing the chief slammed his way into his office. The
man at the door nodded sourly in greeting, and
jerked his head to indicate the presence of a caller
in the waiting-room.
“All right, send him in.” The chief chewed an-
grily at his cigar, and greeted his visitor, a small,
stooping, gray-headed man, with little courtesy.
“Well?”
The little man, however, seemed in no hurry.
“The chief of the detective department, isn't it?”
he queried mildly, and the chief purpled as he stut-
tered an answer.
“I'm Mr. Carney—Mr. Carney of the Farmer's
National Bank”—the visitor produced a card.
“Have a seat,” the chief nodded gruffly, thumbing
the piece of pasteboard, on the engraved surface of
which was the information that Mr. Kenneth Car-


154 HIDDEN EYES
ney was connected with the Farmer's National Bank
of Jacksonville, Florida, and that his position was
that of cashier.
The little man nodded his appreciation of the
chief's suggestion, seated himself slowly, and, plac-
ing the tips of his fingers carefully together, turned
his mild eyes on the chief.
“I have to inform you, sir, that our vault was—
er—entered to-day!”
“Damn!” the chief exploded at the mild man's
announcement. “When? How?” he barked.
“And further to inform you, sir,” Mr. Carney
of the Farmer's National went on mildly, paying
no heed to the chief's explosive questioning, “that
the bank looks to your department, sir, to rid the
city and the state, sir—once and for all of this—er
—marauder.”
“And might I inquire,” grunted the chief with
elaborate politeness, “just how the Farmer's Bank
expects me to go about it?” The chief was heavily
sarcastic, but the little man only nodded, giving but
the smallest attention to the chief's words.
“There remains, sir, I am told,” he answered de-
liberately, “no one in the city, who has—er—not
yet been visited by this—er—cracksman.”


THE FOURTH VISITATION 155
The chief flung his cigar aside, growling. This
individual, with his drawling advice, began to irri-
tate him.
“I would suggest, therefore”—Mr. Carney tapped
a finger on the arm of his chair thoughtfully—“that
you—er—station a trustworthy officer at each bank-
ing institution in the city, sir, in order that—”
The chief grinned sardonically. “It might inter-
est you to know, Mr. Carney, that a man was sta-
tioned at your bank all night.”
The little man nodded, as though judiciously
weighing the chief's words.
“That is what I have come to speak to you of,”
he admitted after a thoughtful silence. “Your—er
—officer departed this morning at nine o'clock, and
—er—it was between nine and ten that our vault
was er—entered, and I–”
“The hell you say!” The chief's fist clumped the
desk before him.
“And I,” continued the little man, unperturbed by
the chief's outburst, “was about to advise you, sir,
that I attribute to my own—er—sagacity the fact
that it was so soon discovered.” He raised his eyes
to the scowling man behind the desk.
“At breakfast in my—er—home,” continued Mr.


156 HIDDEN EYES
Carney of the Farmer's National Bank, “it—er—
occurred to me, while—er—perusing the newspaper
accounts, that it might be eminently—er—advisable
to see that everything remained secure in my own
institution, and I immediately acted on what I con-
sidered an admirable—er—conclusion.”
He looked again at the chief, as though expecting
praise for his independent efforts to see that all was
well with his bank, but the chief seemed not to have
heard.
“And I–er—”
“What did he get?” barked the chief suddenly.
“You’re sure it did happen?”
“Undoubtedly.” The little man's inquiring eyes
fixed themselves on the chief, as though unable to
account for his vehemence. “The-er—loss, for-
tunately, is small—less than one thousand dollars.
Our-er—available cash—our surplus cash, that is
—was—er—forwarded—”
The chief waved away the explanation and punched
viciously at a button on his desk. The dour-faced
attendant answered the buzzer, and the chief
growled:
“Send me Jackson.”
Jackson arrived and proved to be a bull-necked,


THE FOURTH VISITATION 157
low-browed individual whose undershot jaw boded
ill for evil-doers of whatsoever degree.
“Jackson—Mr. Carney of the Farmer's Na-
tional.”
The chief jerked out the introduction as though
he disliked doing it.
“Pleased tº meetcher—seen yuh at the bank.”
Jackson bobbed his bullet head industriously in the
direction of the bank cashier.
“True, true.” Mr. Carney nodded slowly in turn.
“Your face and carriage are—er—familiar.”
The detective turned a puzzled look to the chief,
but the chief's thoughts seemed elsewhere engaged,
and the man shuffled clumsily on his feet, scowling
at nothing in particular.
“Y” wanted me, Chief?” he finally questioned,
and Mr. Carney turned his head suddenly, as though
startled by the fact that the bull-necked one was
still visibly in evidence.
The chief nodded absently, then seemed to jerk
his thoughts back, with an effort, to the present.
“You were at the bank all night?” The chief
looked heavily at the man before him.
“Sure—them was the orders.”
“Exactly,” murmured Mr. Carney definitely.


158 HIDDEN EYES
The chief eyed the little man balefully a second,
then turned again to the detective, questioning:
“Just whereabouts were you?”
“Meanin' in the bank?” asked the detective, and
as the chief nodded irritably, he continued: “In
the payin' teller's cage; the back of it faces the vault,
and—”
“Um!” murmured Mr. Carney thoughtfully, then
shook his head definitely. “So it does, so it does.”
The detective seemed rattled by the interruption
and scowled at the little man in the chair. Then:
“I got in there at eight last night,” he continued,
“and there I sat until a few minutes to nine this
mornin’.”
“Sure you didn't leave that cage, Jackson?”
“Sure, sir,” answered the bullet-headed detective
positively.
“Me an' the watchman played checkers between
his rounds, and while he was gone I was dopin'
out combinations on him.”
“Combinations?” Mr. Carney's mildly inquiring
voice broke in again. “Combinations, did you say—
er—Mr. Jackson?”
“Checker combinations,” grunted the detective


THE FOURTH VISITATION 159
scornfully, and Mr. Carney nodded his head re-
lievedly. “Ah, to be sure—checker combinations,”
he murmured.
“Well, Jackson,” the chief commented briefly,
“the Farmer's vault was entered this morning.”
“Naw!” Utter amazement spread over the de-
tective's features, and involuntarily he turned to
Mr. Carney for confirmation of the chief's state-
ment.
“Precisely,” nodded Mr. Carney. “The vault was
—er—entered and the—er—marauder made his—
er—getaway”—Mr. Carney flushed at his own use
of the police vernacular—“with—er—several hun-
dreds of dollars.”
Jackson looked blankly at the chief.
“Notice anybody about when you left?”
The detective's beetle-brow corrugated in thought.
“Naw,” he muttered, as though to himself. “No-
body—not anywhere near there.”
The chief thought quietly a moment, chewing on
a fresh unlighted cigar.
“Where'd you go when you left there? Come
straight here?”
“Yep!” Jackson seemed struggling to recall his


160 HIDDEN EYES
exact movements. “Lessee. I went down Bay Street
and came up Hogan. Then I stopped at Demo's
for a cup of coffee and talked to O'Reilly a minute.
He's the man on the beat,” he explained, and the
chief nodded heavily, while Mr. Carney inquired:
“The regular policeman, you mean?”
Neither of the two men paid the slightest attention
to the bank cashier's questioning, and, looking a
little hurt, Mr. Carney relapsed into silence.
“Then I went over to the post-office,” Jackson
muttered on thoughtfully, and the chief tapped im-
patiently on the desk with his fingers. “From there
—lessee—I started down Forsythe Street, and I
met this Thornton guy—”
“What?” The chief leaped to his feet, and Mr.
Carney jerked erect in startled surprise.
“Huh?” Jackson eyed the chief with surprise.
“Whatcha mean, what?” He frowned at the chief's
sudden display of interest in his movements.
“Who did you run into?” the chief questioned
eagerly. “Thornton, you said.”
Mr. Carney's raised eyebrows registered bewil-
derment.
“Yeh,” Jackson nodded heavily. “That Thorn-
ton guy what was up here the other mornin’. He


THE FOURTH VISITATION 161
was coming down Laura Street, walkin' with his
nose up in the air; too good to talk to a gum-shoe.”
“Did you watch where he went?” The chief's
hands closed on the edge of his desk and his cigar
lay unheeded at his side, which in itself betokened
the fact that the chief was keenly absorbed.
“Naw.” Jackson spat disgustedly into a cuspidor.
“What'd I want to trail him for?” he demanded.
“Th' dude was prob'ly goin’ home. He was headed
for Bay Street. Naw, I didn't watch him—what
for P”
The chief frowned and did not answer. Mr.
Carney, however, deemed it time to say a few words,
so he raised his eyes and looked at the chief.
“An admirable young man, Mr. Thornton,” he
said mildly, “quite an admirable young man.”
“Huh !” the chief grunted the monosyllable, and
Mr. Carney raised his eyebrows.
“What's wrong about that guy, Chief?” The
bullet-headed detective scented the fact somehow
that he should have followed Thornton.
The chief raised his head.
“All right, Jackson; nothing at all,” he answered.
“You just stick around here and I'll call you when
I’m ready.”


162 HIDDEN EYES
Jackson turned to the door and clumped heavily
from the room, and the chief turned an attentive
ear to Mr. Carney's drawled question of:
“If you care to—er—investigate the bank prem-
ises and the er—banking structure, I shall be glad
—er—”
The chief cut him off sharply.
“No need of that,” he grunted. “I’ll leave you
now, Mr. Carney.” He rose heavily and turned
again to the cashier, his voice silkily mild: “And
thank you for calling.”
Again the sarcasm missed the little man, who rose
slowly to his feet.
“Not at all.” He waved his hand deprecatingly.
“I—er—felt it my duty to advise you immediately,
and any assistance that I–er—may be able to render,
sir—” He stopped as the chief held open the door
in an invitation there was no mistaking.
“And just what advices shall I carry to my—er
—superiors, sir?”
The chief turned.
“You tell 'em,” he rumbled heavily, “you tell 'em
I'm on the job.” He turned again to the door, but
hesitated as Mr. Carney inquired further:


THE FOURTH VISITATION 163
“And when, sir, may we expect the-er—appre-
hension of the er—criminal, sir?”
The chief looked scornfully at the little man.
“Just as soon,” he advised slowly, “just as soon
as I can get my two hands on him,” and he spread
out two huge hairy hands in an eloquent gesture,
while Mr. Carney, evidently satisfied with the reply,
minced through the open door.
As the visitor left, the chief closed the door slowly
and turned to his desk.
The officer who entered in answer to his ring
stood for several minutes waiting, before the chief
looked up from his staring at the desk.
“Has Hanson come in P”
“Not yet, sir,” the man replied.
“He’s out at the Riverside Apartments, ain't he?”
The chief's question was a mere formality, and the
officer nodded.
“Franklin's just left for the St. James Building,”
he advised, “and Hanson ought to be in any
minute.”
“All right—all right.” The chief waved his
lmand in dismissal, and the officer retired, while the
chief continued to gaze thoughtfully before him.


164 HIDDEN EYES
Finally he turned to the telephone.
“Get me Doctor Lester's office,” he snapped, and
hung up the receiver.
The switchboard operator worked swiftly, for in
a moment the chief's buzzer announced that the
connection had been made, and the chief turned to
the telephone.
“Hello! Miss Mae in?” He grinned a little.
“Is it? Well, this is—er—never mind. Is Ben
Franklin around anywhere? He ain't? Know
where he is? Oh, all right. Will you tell him to
call headquarters, please, if you see him around?
Thanks.”
The chief hung up the receiver slowly and re-
trieved his cigar. This he clamped into the side
of his mouth, and a shrewd look drifted into his
eyes: -
“I’m getting warm,” he grunted to himself; “I’m
getting mighty warm ſ”


CHAPTER XII
IGNORING HIS FRIENDS
OCTOR LESTER had been dragged com-
D plainingly from his bed at 8 A. M. by the
jangle of the telephone on his little night table, and
in answer to the call had splashed himself hurriedly
beneath a cold shower, backed from its garage
his three-cylinder automobile, and, grumbling pro-
fanely at people who fell ill on Sunday morning,
had started on his call.
The “case” proved to be far from interesting. A
patient had developed sudden and severe pains in
the region of the stomach, these accompanied by a
violent headache that prevented the man's raising
his head more than an inch or so from the pillow
without a feeling that a million triphammers, ma-
nipulated by as many little demons, were suddenly
let loose beneath his forehead.
The doctor, his huge fingers on the man's pulse,
listened to the groaning recital of symptoms, and
165


166 HIDDEN EYES
grunted pessimistically. Also-for the doctor was
wise in his generation—he sniffed the air suspi-
ciously and promptly and correctly diagnosed the
case as “the morning after,” leaving his patient a
moment later, and complaining aloud and bitterly
to the circumambient atmosphere of having been
robbed of well-earned slumber through the action of
the country's prohibition laws, which necessitated
the purchase of intoxicating liquors in the guise of
hair tonic.
By the time he had urged his complaining ma-
chine to the city, however, he had ceased to grumble
and bemoan his unfortunate choice of a profession,
and as his car drew up before the St. James Build-
ing he was puzzling, half aloud, over Thornton's
condition and going over in his mind the possible
reasons for it.
He entered his deserted office, threw open the
windows in his laboratory, and plumped himself
heavily in the chair by his desk. One hand reached
for his cigarettes; the other went out for the tele-
phone for the purpose of calling Thornton.
The doctor thought better of his impulse, how-
eVer.
“Better let him sleep,” he muttered heavily, yawn-


IGNORING HIS FRIENDS 167
ing himself, and he turned to greet the office girl
who had entered.
“Mornin', Mae. Not married yet?” The doc-
tor seemed to grow visibly cheerful as he watched
the girl put aside her hat and efficiently set about
straightening the office.
“Not yet,” she laughed in reply, vigorously stir-
ring up the dust from the top of the doctor's desk.
He arose, grumbling good-naturedly.
“Can't even have peace in my own office—whew!”
He coughed with every symptom of sudden choking,
but the girl, entirely too well acquainted with his
manners to mind the complaint, busily manipulated
the duster.
The doctor reached for his hat.
“I’m going out to hunt breakfast,” he growled,
glancing at his watch. “Maybe you'll be through
when I get back.”
“If you don't hurry, yes.” The girl smiled at the
waddling figure as it crossed the office.
Doctor Lester stopped in the doorway.
“And don't forget to light the sterilizer!” he
thundered. -
For answer the girl went into the laboratory and
pressed the electric switch, returning in a moment.


168 HIDDEN EYES
“That all right?” she asked laughingly, but the
huge doctor had gone, and the girl heard the sound
of his shuffling footsteps as he made his way down
the long corridor to the elevators.
The doctor waddled across the street and made
his way through the park which faces the St. James
Building. A man hurrying across the green square
in another direction attracted his sudden attention,
and he stopped short, his heavy legs planted far
apart as he squinted at the figure.
“Looks like Thornton,” he muttered aloud, then
took a hurried step forward as he saw the figure of
Isabel Brannon step from the roadster that drew
up by the curb on Laura Street and approach the
walking figure.
The man who looked like Halvey Thornton con-
tinued calmly, but in seeming haste, on his way, and
the doctor's face clouded as he saw the girl stop
short, then gaze after the figure of the man who
passed her.
“Huh!” grunted the doctor, starting across the
park. “It must sure look a lot like him to fool
Isabel. Isabel!” He raised his voice to a rumbling
shout, but the girl had stepped again into the auto-
mobile, which darted off.


IGNORING HIS FRIENDS 169
The doctor stopped in his tracks, turned slowly
about, grumbled aloud, and half-heartedly continued
in the direction he was going.
“Aw, the devil! I'm not hungry,” he groaned,
and slowly began to retrace his steps. -
The office girl seemed surprised at his return, but
her laughing question went unasked as she saw the
doctor's heavy face creased into a thoughtful frown.
“Was Mr. Thornton in here?” he asked.
“Why, no,” the girl answered. “I haven't seen
him since you left with him yesterday.”
“Huh,” grunted the doctor thoughtfully. “It
sure looked like him.” He scratched his head.
“Didn't see him go into his own office, did you?”
The girl shook her head.
“He might have gone by without my seeing him,”
she replied. “I think I would have, though.”
“Oh, all right,” the doctor grumbled. “Nothing
important. Get out o' here now and let me go to
work.”
The girl left the office, closing the door behind
her, and the doctor picked up the telephone.
To the operator who answered he gave Thorn-
ton's number, and waited impatiently, nodding his
big head heavily to the operator's twice repeated:


170 HIDDEN EYES
“I’m ringing.” Then: “They don't answer.” And
the doctor, scowling, replaced the receiver on the
hook and turned into his laboratory.
Hurried steps came down the corridor, stopped
before Doctor Lester's door, and into the room
hurried Isabel Brannon, the color high in her cheeks
and tears hanging threateningly in her eyes. She
was dressed for the tennis courts, and the office girl
smiled a “Good morning.”
The girl only nodded hastily, however, and hur-
ried into the inner office.
Doctor Lester, the sleeves of his white laboratory
coat rolled high on his fat arms, turned from a
row of test-tubes and faced the girl, his stolid heavy
face lighting suddenly with genuine concern.
“Isabel, what's the matter?” The doctor's voice
held a tense quality.
Instead of answering, the girl dropped into a chair
and began to cry brokenly.
The doctor's little eyes grew large; then he turned
suddenly and shut the door of the reception-room.
In a moment his huge hand was patting the girl's
shoulder.
“There, there, Izzy,” he muttered, using the nick-
name that usually aroused a storm of protest.


IGNORING HIS FRIENDS 171
“Come on; what's the matter, girl? Out with it
now—aw ! Sa-a-a-ay.” The doctor coughed apolo-
getically, and the crying lessened in volume. He
was uncomfortably embarrassed. “’S all right, Isa-
bel; of course it's all right; if it isn’t, demme! we'll
very soon make it all right. Come on now.”
The girl looked up and the doctor slumped into a
chair before her.
“I—I–I know I'm a little fool,” the girl sobbed.
“Nothing of the kind!” The doctor straightened
violently. “You hear,” he rumbled, “nothing of the
kind. Who says so?”
The beginning of a smile hovered about the girl's
wet eyes.
“I—I–passed right by him on the street”—her
voice was low—“and—and—and he wouldn't speak
to me.” The threatening tears rose afresh. “I
haven’t done anything to him, Doctor, have I?”
“Of course you haven't. How could you have?”
The doctor's heavy voice was very reassuring, and
although he knew, he grinned: “Who was it?”
The girl's smile broke out, as he very much hoped
it would.
“Of course, it's silly of me. He-he just didn't
See me, though—though I—I walked right up to


172 HIDDEN EYES
him and said “Hello, and—and he passed by without
—without— It was Halvey,” she finished hastily.
“Thornton, eh?” The doctor stroked his ele-
phantine chin slowly. “Sure you're not mistaken,
Isabel? Might 'v' been somebody that looked like
him.”
The girl shook her head and her eyes met the doc-
tor's. She blushed slightly. -
“No, I wasn't mistaken.”
“When was it?”
The girl turned from the doctor's gaze.
“A few minutes ago. I was just coming from the
tennis court with Bernice, and stopped the car, and
he—he-”
“Ho! ho! ho!” The doctor's huge laugh boomed
out in the office and he grinned broadly. “And that's
what’s worrying you. I just remembered,” he
chuckled.
“What?” The girl leaned forward eagerly.
“Ah,” grumbled the doctor heavily, “don’t you
worry; he didn't even see you. You see, he's—er—
bothered; that is, he's worrying about this safe busi-
ness—er—concentrating; that's it. Why, of course
he didn't see you,” and the big doctor's laugh
boomed out again, while the girl smiled with him.


IGNORING HIS FRIENDS 173
“Don’t, please, think I'm a little fool,” she began;
but the doctor turned once more to the telephone.
“I’ll see if he's in,” he grumbled, giving the number.
The mind behind the little beady eyes was work-
ing rapidly as he smiled at the girl. Thornton un-
doubtedly had passed her; had, perhaps, gone home.
The doctor glanced at his desk clock to ascertain
whether Thornton had had time to reach his apart-
ments.
“Hello!” he rumbled into the receiver. “The
devil it is,” he chuckled, as he recognized Thorn-
ton's voice and his manner of answering the tele-
phone. “Say, you pirate, whadaya mean by passin'
your friends on the street an’ not speakin' to 'em?
Naw, it wasn't me; it was Isabel. You did, I tell
you. Yes, you did, too; don't dispute me. Here
she is; talk to her yourself.” And the doctor, hand-
ing the receiver to the girl, arose and lumbered into
the laboratory, where he stood attentively staring
from the window as though greatly interested in
the view.
Despite his apparent preoccupation, however, he
nodded his head with relief when he heard the girl
laugh easily: “All right, then, come to-night—at
eight—and make your apologies.”


174 HIDDEN EYES
But later, after the girl had smilingly gone, he
slumped down in his chair at his desk, his heavy face
stolid and inexpressive, and muttering aloud his
mental reactions:
“It ain't right,” he grumbled; “goes to sleep—
keels over like a chicken with the pip—eyes reflex
like a jumping jack's—cuts his best girl—demme!
—it ain't right.”
The doctor ran his eyes over a row of books on
top of his desk, and still muttering, picked out an
especially huge tome, which bore, gilt-lettered on
its back: Theories of the Neuroses, by Freud.
Mechanically he opened the volume and began to
read, his mind occupied with the case of the little
girl of the day before, the persecution-mania pa-
tient, as Ralby called her.
In a few minutes, however, he found his thoughts
drifting from the learned discussion under his eyes,
and he raised his head from the book, gazing blankly
at the wall before him, staring with unseeing eyes
at the motto on the wall, the motto containing the
one word, “Think.”
Slowly the word seemed to sink into his mind,
and he wheeled in his chair.


IGNORING HIS FRIENDS 175
“Mae!” he bellowed, and the office girl appeared
in the doorway.
“When Mr. Thornton comes up, I wish you'd tell
him to drop in here,” he requested; and the girl
nodded.
The doctor waddled again into his laboratory and
resolutely picked up a test-tube.
“What's the use worrying about it?” he grum-
bled, holding the test-tube up to the light and squint-
ing at the discolored fluid it contained.
He forced his mind from Thornton and the prob-
lems he presented as he poured a bit of the fluid in
a small centrifuge, screwed to a stand, filled the op-
posite holder with water to equalize the weight, and
began slowly to spin the mechanism, pursing his
thick lips and whistling softly. He was soon en-
tirely absorbed in the work before him and, in a
short time, was slowly manipulating the adjusting
screw of a microscope, his eye glued to the top and
his mind occupied only with the small glass slide
beneath his lens.
He did not hear the door behind him open, nor
was he aware of Halvey Thornton's entrance as that
young man stood smiling in the doorway, looking


IGNORING HIS FRIENDS 177
“Never felt better,” Thornton boasted. “A little
dizzy when I got up, but quite all right now.” He
extended a cigarette-case, and the doctor took a
cigarette as he led the way into his consultation-
TOO111.
Thornton dropped on to the couch, and the doc-
tor sat in his chair by the desk, puffing his cigarette.
“Say, Hal,” he began tentatively, “what's this
Isabel's been telling me about you?”
Thornton looked his surprise. Then:
“Oh, you mean about not speaking to her. Piffle!
She must have been mistaken.”
“Huh.” The doctor's little eyes fixed themselves
on Thornton's face. “And you didn't pass her out
here by Hemming Park this morning?”
Thornton blew a cloud of smoke.
“Of course not, Lester. You know I wouldn't
—as to not recognizing her—bosh! I humored her
over the phone; she really seemed cut up about it.”
He shrugged lightly and lifted his cigarette.
The doctor nodded.
“Sleep all right?”
“Like a brick,” Thornton answered; then laughed:
“that is, with about as much sensation as a brick. I
was dead to the world.”


178 HIDDEN EYES
“That's good,” nodded the doctor heavily. “You
look a hundred per cent. better for it.”
Thornton smiled.
“Thanks—and thanks for bothering with me yes-
terday. I feel a hundred per cent. better, too.”
“Don’t doubt it.” Doctor Lester lighted a fresh
cigarette from his old one.
“By the way, Hal,” he raised his eyes. “You
didn't play tennis this morning, did you?”
“Not much I didn't,” Thornton laughed. “Sorry,
too, for Isabel was out with Bernice and Max.”
“Didn't feel up to it?” The doctor's little eyes
looked bland and blankly unexpressive.
Thornton dropped his cigarette into a tray.
“Don’t know whether I did or not,” he replied.
“That dope you filled me with worked too well. I
didn't wake up until after nine—when you tele-
phoned, in fact.”
For the fraction of an instant the doctor's eyes
clouded at Thornton's answer, then he chuckled:
“Tried to get you earlier, but no answer.”
“No wonder,” Thornton replied, rising to his feet.
“I slept like a brick, I'm telling you.” He stretched
luxuriously. “And I’m going to put in some work
this morning, too, to make up for lost time.”


IGNORING HIS FRIENDS 179
The doctor nodded.
“Got up pretty late myself,” he grunted, “but
don't feel much better for it. You say you didn't
awaken until nine o'clock—that's some sleeping.”
Thornton turned casually to a bookcase.
“It sure is,” he agreed. “I did half wake up
once this morning, early—must have been when you
first phoned; I’ve only a vague recollection of it.
Wouldn't swear I wasn't dreaming. But it was nine
fifteen by the clock when I stepped out of bed—
thanks to you.”
The doctor nodded silently, and he eyed Thorn-
ton's back as he bent over the books in the case,
scanning the titles.
“Well, I'm going to work.” Thornton straight-
ened and turned toward the door. “Drop in before
you leave, and we'll have lunch together; that is, if
you don't leave too early. I’ve got some work to
do.” He turned to the door: “You saw the morn-
ing papers, I suppose?”
Doctor Lester nodded.
“They sure waded into our detective friend,” he
said slowly.
“Dog-gone it, Lester,” Thornton stopped with
one hand on the door; “it’s damned queer, this


180 HIDDEN EYES
whole business. I know too infernally much about
these different vaults; maybe that's it. But I’d be
willing to take an oath that there's not a man in the
country who can get into them—any quicker than
I can.”
The doctor shrugged and turned toward his desk.
“Quit thinking about it,” he grumbled, “and for
Pete's sake, quit shooting off your mouth to every-
!
body about your vault-entering abilities.”
Thornton opened the door, laughing at the doc-
tor's vehemence.
“Just the same, it's true,” he flung back, closing
the door behind him.
The doctor looked up at the closed door, a puz-
zled light in his eyes.
“That's the hell of it,” he whispered to himself.
“It is true!”


CHAPTER XIII
THORNTON HAS AN INSPIRATION
HORNTON stopped a moment in the outer
office, and smilingly watched the office girl
who was busily sewing. “Trousseau?” he teased.
The girl blushed and nodded while Thornton
shook his head in mock sadness. “Seems as though
everybody in the world finds some one,” he com-
plained, “except the old grouch in there—and me.”
“Sure it isn't your fault, Mr. Thornton?” The
girl looked sidewise at the young man.
“Oh, I don't know.” Thornton turned to the
doorway. “Maybe it is, and then, perhaps, I just
haven't found any wonderful lady—any who would
have me, that is.”
“You don't sound as though you meant it, Mr.
Thornton.” The girl looked up, but almost im-
mediately dropped her eyes to her work. “And,
perhaps, you're mistaken about the the lady.”
Thornton seemed to know to whom she referred,
181


182 HIDDEN EYES
for he turned red, and hastened to change the di-
rection of the conversation.
“Well, how about Lester, then; think he will find
some one—some lady one of these days?”
The girl nodded positively.
“If he wants to—yes. Every one does—inva-
riably.”
Thornton chuckled.
“That's a comforting philosophy for bachelors,
Mae; wish I could believe it. But—lordy,” he
laughed silently, “can't you just see Lester married
to—oh, anybody!”
And he turned into the hall, still laughing at the
idea of the obese grumbling doctor in the rôle of
husband.
In the hallway he collided with Franklin, the
detective, who seemed to have but just arrived.
“Good morning, sir!” the detective nodded to
Thornton.
Thornton Smiled.
“Bright and early, eh? Even on Sunday. The
early bird and the worm, is that it?”
The officer flushed and grinned.
“Yep,” he nodded, “that's it. Busy in there?”
i


AN INSPIRATION 183
He jerked his head to indicate the doctor's office,
and Thornton replied good-naturedly:
“No, I think you'll find the lady disengaged.” He
extended his hand. “I suppose congratulations are
in order—”
The detective shook hands embarrassedly, grin-
ning like a small boy, as Thornton laughed:
“She’s a dandy, Franklin—you're to be envied.”
“Sure, I know it.” The detective's voice dropped
to a confidential tone. “What beats me is how she
fell for a rough-neck like I am.”
Thornton laughed heartily.
“You never can tell, can you, Franklin? Good
luck to you!” And he turned into his own office.
Franklin stood in the hall a moment after Thorn-
ton disappeared and shook his head.
“Damned foolishness,” he muttered to himself,
“this business o' watchin' a man like that.”
The office girl looked up as Franklin entered.
“Somebody from the office—the chief, I think—
wants you to call.”
She nodded to the telephone on the desk, and
Franklin, with a scowl and a muttered “Thanks,”
turned to the instrument.
*


184 HIDDEN EYES
In a moment he was speaking softly into the
transmitter.
“Hello—yep. Franklin talkin'. Yep, talkin' from
Doctor Lester's office. Uhuh; he's in his own office.
Nope, just picked him up—just came in, yeh-all
right.”
He hung up the receiver and turned to the girl.
“Well, the chief's beginning to show sense,” he
commented. “I’m off the gum-shoe detail.”
Franklin didn't seem any too pleased over his
release, however, for he frowned heavily as he
spoke.
“Just why were you watching him?” The girl's
eyes met the detective's squarely.
Franklin fidgeted.
“Aw, there ain't no call to rub it in on me, Mae.
I ain't responsible for details, you know. They
shove a man around on the most foolish kind of de-
tail, just to see him work, I reckon,” he ran on
heavily, then caught the girl's eye and stopped.
The detective did not seem any too expert at
avoiding answers to her questions.
“Aw, the chief thinks he knows too much about
vaults,” he finally explained; “and it—”
Mae laughed.


AN INSPIRATION 185
“If I couldn't make a better guess than that, I'd
go and—”
“Shucks!” Franklin's ejaculation was scornful.
“Of course the chief ain't nut enough to think he's
mixed up in it—just watchin' him on general prin-
ciples.” He turned in the doorway. “I’ll be back
a little after twelve; you're going down the river
with me this afternoon, you know.”
The girl frowned, as though undecided.
“Well—you might come by-" she suggested
teasingly; then, as Franklin started to reenter the
office, she quickly put the table between them.
“You’d better go on,” she laughed, “before the chief
sets somebody to watching you.” And the detec-
tive turned into the corridor.
The girl sewed industriously, smiling to herself.
Occasionally she raised her eyes to the door of the
doctor's private office, from which emanated inter-
mittent sounds which indicated that the doctor was
at work in his laboratory.
A little later she noticed the passing and repassing
of a man in the hall, a man who cast a casual glance
into the doctor's office as he walked by. Without
appearing to notice him, the girl watched until he
came by again, and recognized the bullet-headed,


AN INSPIRATION 187
peared about their corners, giving him more than
ever the appearance of an exalted Billiken.
“So you noticed it, too, eh?” he grunted finally.
The girl seemed surprised and shook her head.
She had made the remark merely as a prelude to
what she wanted to say.
“I don't know whether there is or not,” the doc-
tor rumbled on thoughtfully. “Sometimes I think
he's just in the same fix that you are.”
The doctor grunted scornfully at the expression
of surprise that showed on the girl's face.
“Why, what is that, Doctor?”
The doctor looked at her over the lighted match
he held to his cigarette.
“Ho! ho!” he rumbled finally. “Innocent this
morning, ain't you?”
And the girl blushed as the doctor explained pon-
derously:
“What I think is the matter,” he offered confi-
dentially, “what really ails him, is that the little
fool god—you know, the one with wings and a
quiver of arrows”—the fat man in the chair ges-
tured ridiculously—“has simply taken a pot-shot at
him, and scored a bull's-eye.”
“Oh!” The girl gasped. “Do you really?”


188 HIDDEN EYES
Then, “Miss Brannon?” she queried eagerly. “Is
it? I was hoping that—”
The doctor bobbed his big head in agreement.
“Yep,” he advised heavily, “that's it—I think.”
The girl smiled.
“That's—that's great! He's a dandy, isn't he,
and she seems mighty sweet—”
“All o' that,” the doctor interrupted. “Every bit
of it and then some. And, by the way”—he raised
his little eyes as though the thought had but just
occurred to him—“when do you and Gum-Shoe
Bill come to time?”
The girl laughed, then frowned as she remem-
bered her errand.
“That's—that's—” she began nervously. “It’s
about him that I wanted to see you, Doctor.”
The doctor screwed his face into an expression
of astonishment.
“So-o-o,” he murmured thoughtfully. Then:
“Aren't you beginning a little early, Mae?”
“It isn't about us,” she explained hastily, turning
red, “but Ben—Mr. Franklin, that is—he's—been
watching Mr. Thornton,” she blurted.
The doctor sat up, suddenly interested. His heavy
careless manner dropped immediately.


AN INSPIRATION 189
“So that's it, eh?” He reached out and patted
the girl's arm with a huge hand. “You needn't
bother about it, Mae—Hal's been talking too much
with his mouth, that's all. Of course your man
doesn't seriously think—” The doctor didn't finish
the sentence, and the girl shook her head quickly.
“No,” she answered, “but—but Ben has gone back
to headquarters, and there's another man out in the
hall. I—I just thought you would want to know it.”
The doctor pondered the information, grumbling
unintelligible things to himself the while, and the
girl stood watching him.
Finally he turned to her again, and his heavy
voice was as near soft as it could become.
“Thanks, Mae.” He smiled slowly. “Thanks for
telling me.”
The girl nodded and closed the door behind her,
and the huge fat man, left alone in his office,
slumped far down in his chair, eying balefully the
lighted end of a cigarette.
When he roused himself from his contemplation
of the smoldering cigarette he turned to the tele-
phone. He leaned close to the instrument as the
operator answered.
“Main—four, four, two, three,” he ordered, and


190 HIDDEN EYES
nodded his head as the operator repeated the
number.
In another moment he smiled.
“Hello—Izzy?” The smile broadened until his
huge face was creased with wrinkles. “Of course
it is; who else would call you Izzy?” He chuckled
heavily as he listened. “Isn't a feminine name, eh?
Like to know why not? Isabel—Izzy. Natural con-
traction—don't contradict me.” He laughed aloud
into the transmitter; then, “I’m coming out your
way on a call, Isabel,” he explained. “May I drop in
a minute? That's fine—thanks. W-e-e-1-1, yes. You
might have Aunt Julie fix up one—just one, mind
you! And—and—please don't put in too much
sugar.”
He chuckled as he lifted himself to his feet and
reached for a misshaped hat.
In the outer office he nodded to the girl.
“Going out on a call,” he grumbled. “If you want
me, phone Miss Brannon.” He turned in the door-
way. “Guess you're going off with that sleuth of
yours, aren't you?” he asked with heavy jocularity.
The girl nodded, and the doctor rumbled on.
“Well, wait till I get back, anyhow,” he asked. “I’m
coming back up this afternoon.”


192 HIDDEN EYES
Thornton stood in the doorway watching him,
playing mechanically with the test-tube, a half-smile
on his face and an unusual light in his eyes.
He turned slowly into his office again, but did
not continue his work. Instead he turned to a small
cabinet and drew out a photograph.
The smiling eyes of Isabel Brannon gazed into his
own. The test-tube in his hand was forgotten, and
he drew near a window, staring long and earnestly
at the photograph in his hand.
“I wonder,” he mused aloud—“I wonder if she
really could be—”
He shook his head abruptly and turned to his
work after carefully propping the picture against a
rack. He began to whistle cheerfully as he shook
up the contents of the test-tube and held the glass
over the flame of a Bunsen burner.
Again his thoughts drifted and his eyes turned
to the picture beside him. The crack of an over-
heated test-tube warned him to give attention to the
work in hand, and, with a laugh, he threw the use-
less tube aside and turned to replace the photograph
in the cabinet.
A roll of blue-prints caught his eye, and he drew
them out thoughtfully, spreading them on the table


AN INSPIRATION 193
before him. He nodded slowly as he removed a
small print from the lot and studied it carefully, his
eyes following each little minute line of the drawing.
He refolded the drawing and replaced it with the
others, placing the roll in the cabinet drawer labeled
“Vault Plans—Defy Safe and Lock Company.”
There was plain indecision in his steps as he paced
across his office, smoking thoughtfully and frown-
ing at nothing. Then he laughed quietly, glanced
at his watch, shrugged, and dropped to a chair in
front of his desk.
“I’m a fool,” he whispered to himself confiden-
tially. “The only way to find out is to ask.”
He caught his breath at the thought, and envis-
aged the figure of Isabel Brannon, in the manner
that he imagined she might look when he put his
question to her.
Then, unreasonably, there flooded over him a
strangely clairvoyant feeling; a feeling of positive
certainty, of encouraging assurance.
“By George!” he whispered. “I’ll do it—to-
night!”


LIGHT OR DARK CLOTHES 195
“Had some little runt in there with him up to a
minute ago. 'S got a grouch on that you can feel
a mile.”
“Huh,” Franklin nodded, “that ain't a thing new.
The compliments in the papers this morning caused
it, probably.”
“Some compliments, all right, all right,” grinned
the long-faced officer. “I don't remember 'em ever
wading in quite that bad on the old man before.
Anything new on the bank job?”
Franklin shook his head.
“Naw; nor there ain't likely to be, the way the
old man's handling it,” he criticized. “I advised him
right off to get a line on some of the old-timers
around Bridge Street, but he says nix. Talks about
this being some gentleman's job. Gentleman, the
devil! Just one of these slick crooks from up North
down for a holiday. Now, if I was running this
department, first of all I’d sort of give a peep at the
private accounts of them two ginks at the Second
National, and—”
The officer chuckled.
“Some head,” he grinned sarcastically. “Some
head.”
Franklin reddened.


LIGHT OR DARK CLOTHES 197
funny it would be if every bank in town suddenly
went crooked. Lord, what an idea!” and he went
off into another paroxysm of chortling laughter.
Franklin turned on his heel abruptly and entered
the chief's office with a belligerent swagger which
spoke eloquently of his humor.
The chief was sitting at his desk, chewing on the
ever-present cigar and drumming the side of the
desk with his stumpy fingers. He nodded when
Franklin entered, and with a jerk of his head indi-
cated a chair.
After a moment's silence he spoke without look-
ing at the detective.
“When'd you pick up Thornton?” he asked.
Franklin crossed his legs and rocked backward
in his chair. “When he came to his office,” he ad-
vised. “I was down in the drug-store waiting for
him to show up. Came in about ten-thirty.”
“Anybody with him?” the chief questioned aim-
lessly.
Franklin shook his head.
“Naw. Came in by himself. Looked like he'd
just got up.”
“Huh?” The chief turned his eyes on Franklin.
“Whaddaya mean—looked like he just got up?”


198 HIDDEN EYES - , ,
Franklin shrugged.
“All spick an’span,” he explained. “Dressed up.”
“Yeh?” The chief shifted his cigar about in his
mouth. “Notice what he had on?”
Franklin's mouth twisted into a half sneer. It
struck him that the chief was getting more childish
every day; as though it mattered what Thornton
had on.
“Well,” the chief snapped the word.
“White,” grunted Franklin disgustedly; “serge or
flannel, I don't know which. Didn't notice his shirt.
White shoes; straw hat—Panama. Soft collar;
black bow tie.” Franklin was surprised at his own
memory, and the chief nodded, satisfied.
“All right,” he grunted; “and now—”
“I didn't notice how his hair was parted,” volun-
teered Franklin cuttingly.
The chief turned red.
“Cut it, Frank,” he waved a huge hand. “There
ain't any call for the heavy sarcasm. I don't like
the idea of being down here to-day any more'n you
do, but I ain't taking it out on everybody in sight.”
Franklin relapsed into shamed silence.
The chief scowled silently, contemplating his


LIGHT OR DARK CLOTHES 199
hands on the desk while Franklin fidgeted in his
chair.
“Jackson picked up Thornton,” he grunted finally.
Then he leaned forward over his desk, eying the
detective. “And, what's more, he saw Thornton
this morning just before or just after the Farmer's
National got theirs.”
“The Farmer's National?” The legs of Frank-
lin's chair crashed to the floor.
“Yep.” The chief nodded. “Didn't hear that,
eh? Somebody done 'em between nine and ten this
morning; leastwise, we know it wasn't before then,
for-"
Franklin whistled softly between his teeth.
“And Jackson saw Thornton?”
“Well,” the chief modified, “he saw him near the
post-office, an’ what, in God's name, would the man
be doin' there at that time o' day, and on Sunday?
A man like Thornton?”
“What'd he get?” Franklin put the question
plainly to gain time to think about this newest de-
velopment.
“Little enough,” grunted the chief in answer; “it
ain't that, but lord, when that Carney man”—the


200 HIDDEN EYES
chief scowled heavily at the thought of the cashier
of the Farmer's National Bank—“gets to the news-
papers with it!”
“An' you're still figuring on this Thornton chap
knowing something about it?”
The chief tapped a stumpy finger on the desk to
outline his argument.
“Now you get this, Frank, an' get it straight.
I’m gambling that he's the one best bet we've got.
First, that Second National affair—with him
blowin’ about his ability to open vaults right after
tellin' me the thing was burglar-proof–positively!”
“But he didn't get in, did he?” Franklin reminded
the chief.
“Oh, no; he didn't get in. Of course he didn't.”
The chief turned scornful eyes on the questioner.
“If you was in his shoes and had to make good on
a bluff—would you ha’ gotten in? Of course not.”
The chief bit fiercely on his cigar, and Franklin re-
mained silent.
“All right, then. Then he shows that he might
—mind you, might have been able to pull this—
that's plain.” The chief checked off the item on his
finger.
“Then, there comes the St. John's business; must


LIGHT OR DARK CLOTHES 201
have happened around midnight—after midnight.
Where was Thornton?”
Franklin listened impatiently, and interrupted:
“At the dance,” he answered, “we know that.
Ain't the prosecuting attorney's word good enough
for that?”
“Maybe he was, and maybe he wasn't,” growled
the chief. “At least Mr. Railey didn't see him all
the time. He was there at nine o'clock—and he was
there after midnight—yeh? But was he there in the
meantime?”
Franklin's face lit up.
“Huh,” he chortled, “and you think he could have
come in from Ortega in about two or two and a half
hours and pulled this—this and the Bay Street Bank
entry—and then hop back five miles?”
The chief nodded.
“It ain't impossible—not by a long shot, it ain’t.
He could have come up the river?”
“Swim up?” commented Franklin sarcastically,
but the chief paid no attention.
“Then finally here's this Farmer's National stunt;
with Thornton seen—seen, mind you—two blocks
away from the place just about when it must have
happened.”


202 HIDDEN EYES
Franklin's face showed his entire disbelief of the
chief's argument.
“What's the matter with him being on the way,
or coming from the Springfield tennis-courts? They
usually play out there early Sunday morning?”
“Walking?” the chief cut in. “It’s a considerable
walk from the Riverside Apartments to Springfield
Park—considerable walk.”
Franklin tapped the floor nervously with his foot.
“Who was at the apartments this morning?”
The chief began to smile slowly. It pleased him
that his subordinate should show signs of ability,
and it pleased him much more to hammer home his
own arguments and watch their effect on those about
him.
“Hanson,” he answered Franklin. “Hanson was
there. I put him on Ralby's trail, that was the man
he was after, and if your friend Mr. Thornton left
that apartment-house Hanson'll know it.”
The chief nodded to himself, pleased with the
thought that his sagacity had made it possible to be
definitely informed of the time of Thornton's de-
parture from the house.
“Well, all I got to say,” Franklin began defens-
ively, when the door opened and the detective in


LIGHT OR DARK CLOTHES 203
question—Hanson—entered briskly. He was a
youngish man, with a preternaturally long, earnest
face which, as he entered, gave the impression that
the man might be a divinity student. The thing he
looked least like was a detective. f,
“Well, Hanson?” The chief's voice had an eager
quality in it. -
Hanson nodded to Franklin and turned to the
chief.
“Got your message,” the detective began, “and
came immediately. This man, Ralby, however,
seems to be making a day of it indoors. I haven't
seen a sign of him this morning.”
“Never mind Ralby,” the chief snapped, and the
detective raised his eyebrows in surprise. “It’s
Thornton I’m trying to get a line on,” the chief ex-
plained.
Hanson shrugged.
“I didn't pay much attention to him,” he said.
“You told me Ralby was the man to keep up with,
and that’s what I–’”
“All right,” the chief cut him off, “but you saw
Thornton leave the house, didn't you?”
“Sure,” the detective smiled. “More than once.
He seems to be an early bird.”


204 HIDDEN EYES
“Left more than once, did he?” The chief jerked
the cigar from the corner of his mouth. “Just when
did he leave the first time?”
“Oh, 'bout eight o'clock, I think.”
“Eight, eh?”
The chief's fingers drummed a tattoo on the desk,
and he nodded to Franklin.
“Yes, about eight,” Hanson continued;
exactly sure; might have been a few minutes either
way. He went down to the Riverside Garage—you
can see it from the house—and went off in his fiv-
- «
not
**
Ver.
“Sure he went off in a car?”
The detective grinned broadly.
“A flivver,” he corrected. “Yep, sure,” he nodded.
“What was he wearing? Notice?” The chief
drew up on the edge of his chair, and Franklin
leaned forward.
Hanson nodded; he rather prided himself on his
faculty of observation.
“Black hat; blue suit,” he answered promptly.
“Couldn't make out anything else.”
“Blue suit?” Franklin queried hurriedly.
Hanson turned.


LIGHT OR DARK CLOTHES 205
“Well, it might have been black; either one, black
or blue.”
“Changed clothes,” the chief muttered aloud.
Hanson faced him again. “Yeh—how'd you
know he did?”
“Go on,” the chief ordered. “When?”
“He came back about an hour and a half later,”
the detective continued; “stayed inside about a half-
hour, and came out dressed in white serge, white
shoes, straw hat. That's about all I know about
him.”
“'S'nough,” snapped the chief. “Plenty. Good
work, Hanson. Mighty good work.” And the de-
tective addressed swelled visibly, although at a loss
to account for the unusual praise.
Franklin seemed thoughtful.
“This fellow Thornton, Hanson—carrying any-
thing when he left? Tennis rackets?”
The chief looked up.
“Hell, Franklin!” he exploded. “A man don't
go out to play tennis in a blue suit around here, does
he? And when he passed Jackson at the post-office
he was walking—not in his flivver, remember.”
Hanson looked his surprise.


206 HIDDEN EYES
)
“What's up?” he questioned.
“As to time,” the chief went on slowly, “every-
thing seems to fit pretty well.” He looked up sud-
denly. “Say, Hanson, was Thornton carrying any-
thing when he came back?”
“Didn't see it,” the detective advised. “It wasn't
anything large, or I'd have spotted it.”
The chief nodded, then grinned.
“No, he hardly got enough to make a bundle of
it.” He got heavily to his feet. “You pick up Ralby
again, Hanson,” he instructed. “Needn't go back
out to the apartment; try the New Era Club; he
usually shows up there around noon. And when
you find him, stick with him. I want to see just
how much he's with this Thornton guy.”
The detective nodded and turned to the door.
“And you, Franklin,” the chief turned to Frank-
lin, “you leave word where I can get to you when I
want you, and you might explain to Hanson there
just what's in the wind; always remembering,” the
chief wagged a minatory finger at Franklin, “that
this Thornton chap looks mighty, mighty good to
me.”
When the two men departed the chief dropped
again into his chair, produced a fresh cigar from a


* LIGHT OR DARK CLOTHES 207
nearly depleted pocket, and, apparently addressing a
newspaper on his desk, rumbled positively:
“I’ll show you something,” he growled, “some-
thing that'll make you sit up and take notice.”
He chewed his cigar a moment, then thumbed
through the pages of a telephone directory. His
forefinger descended on a particular number, and
he called into the transmitter of the instrument on
his desk.
In a moment the connection was made.
“Hello—hello, Mr. Thornton;” the chief's voice
was quietly interested. “Feeling all right this morn-
ing? That's good. No, no—nothing new, Mr.
Thornton; not yet. Didn't happen to be in this
neighborhood this morning, did you? What?” The
chief leaned closer to the phone. “Didn't get up un-
til nine o'clock? No-nothing at all; I'll call you if
anything develops.”
The chief hung up the receiver and chewed his
cigar.
“Now, I wonder,” he muttered to himself, “I
wonder why Thornton lied?”


CHAPTER XV
THE DOCTOR THREATENS
OCTOR LESTER'S car drew up before the
D home of Isabel Brannon, and the big man
lowered himself gruntingly to the curb, where he
stood for a moment, frowning at his automobile,
then turned to the house.
In a minute he sat spraddled comfortably in a
wide wicker armchair on the porch, his hat care-
lessly tossed to one side, and mopping his broad face
with a handkerchief but one degree removed, in
size, from a table-cloth.
The screened door leading into the house opened,
and Isabel Brannon came lightly across the porch to
the doctor. Dressed in white, with the filmiest of
Georgette crêpe waists, her hair tucked with seem-
ing carelessness beneath a wide-brimmed, flopping
Panama, she appeared to be the spirit of the St.
Johns River breezes incarnate.
The doctor heaved a huge sigh.
208


THE DOCTOR THREATENS 209
“Gosh, Izzy,” he grunted, “you look—well, north -
poleish.” He grinned heavily at the expression.
“Not the Slav kind,” he explained, as the girl ap-
proached. He did not rise, but took her slim hand
in his own huge paw. “If I get up,” he apologized,
“I’ll flop over; I know it.” -
The girl smiled her acknowledgment and drew a
chair next to the doctor's.
“No need,” she offered. “You do look comforta-
ble.”
“Me? Comfortable?” The doctor's figure shook
jellylike with his tremendous laugh. “Behold!
Jumbo in repose!” He gestured with one short arm.
“Thank the Lord, there's plenty of me to be com-
fortable.”
The girl laughed.
“Oh—you aren't so tremendous as all that!” Her
eyes twinkled as she looked at the man.
“Don’t try any of that,” he warned; “that's no
way to lie to me. Don't I know I'm fat? Don't I?”
Then: “Didn't you murmur something about—” He
raised his eyebrows ludicrously.
“If you'll just wait another minute, Mr. Fat Man,
the life-saver, in the shape of Aunt Julie, will ar-
rive,”


THE DOCTOR THREATENS 211
“’Deed Ah ain’t, Mr. Lester,” she denied, arms
akimbo. “Ah weighs two hun’red an' twenty
pounds, Ah does, an’ Ah ain't losin’ a bit. Took me
ten years tº git dat high, 'deed it did, an’ Ah ain't
goin' round tryin' to rejuce it none—nossuh!”
The doctor sucked earnestly on his straws, fum-
bling with his free hand in his wrinkled vest. A
coin spun in the air as he flipped it to Aunt Julie,
who, despite her bulk, caught it deftly.
“When you quit here,” the doctor ordered, “when-
ever you do, just remember my address, Aunt Julie.”
“Lordy, Mr. Lester,” the old darky chuckled,
“you-all know Ah ain't goin' to quit here no time.
Who'd tekkeer o' Miss Is'hel, you reckon?” And
she chortled mightily.
The doctor sighed. “So it is,” he grumbled mo-
rosely. “A poor sucker of a sawbones can't even
find anybody to mix his juleps.”
Isabel laughed.
“Why don't you tell him how you do it, Aunt
Julie?”
The big negress turned in the doorway.
“Ah'll be glad tº come by an' fix 'em up fºr you
any time, Mr. Lester,” she volunteered seriously,
“but tellin' you how Ah fixes 'em?” She scratched a


212 HIDDEN EYES
kinky head. “Ah just naturally fixes 'em, dat's all.
But Ah ain't goin' to quit here no time—no time,
nossuh; nor Ah ain't goin' to rejuce none either.”
And she waddled heavily into the house.
The doctor set his glass on the table with a sigh
that spoke volumes, while the girl shook a playful
finger at him.
“Intoxicants in the daytime,” she mocked.
The doctor reached for his cigarettes.
“Intoxicants? That?” He indicated the empty
julep-glass. “That's no more an intoxicant than
you're an old maid.” His shrewd little eyes watched
the girl over the lighted match.
The girl gestured lightly, dismissing the doctor's
remark.
“What's new in the St. James Building?” she
asked.
“Meaning with me or—” The doctor left the
question unfinished; then began again: “There's
nothing new in the world; there never is. There's
only sick people and well people—that's all.”
The girl shook her head.
“Of course that's all wrong,” she smiled, “and
there's a lot new—every day. The trouble is, you
see too many ailers, not enough of the well kind.


THE DOCTOR THREATENS 213
You're getting pessimistic in your old age,” she
laughed into the doctor's heavy face. “I believe you
like to see people sick.”
“Huh. A fat lot you know about it,” grunted the
doctor sarcastically. “There isn't a doctor in town
who likes to see sick people. As for me—there's
nothing I wish this burg”—he gestured with his
hand—“nothing I wish this burg more than an epi-
demic of health.”
The girl seemed but half listening, although she
smiled at the doctor's expression as he fished clum-
sily for another cigarette.
Lester smiled ponderously to himself as he blew
a cloud of smoke reflectively into the air and
watched it dissipate in the sunshine. Then he
turned his eyes to the empty glass at his side, puck-
ered his lips thoughtfully, and stared musingly
across the lawn. Finally, with another shrewd
glance at the girl, he placed both hands on the arms
of his chair as though to hoist himself to his feet,
and the girl turned to face him.
“Will you be honest with me, Doctor, if I ask
you something?”
The doctor noticed the seriousness in the girl's
eyes, but he spoke jestingly.


214 HIDDEN EYES
“Didn't I fetch you into this world of woe?” he
demanded. “And you a squalling, red-faced little
brat trying to howl your lungs out.” He chuckled
heavily at the recollection. “And didn't I yank you
through everything from croup and colic to typhoid
—eh?”
The girl's hand fell on his arm.
“Of course you did, you big, fat, dear disciple of
Hippocrates, and—”
“And ain't I going to see you safely married and
finished off and done for?” -
The girl blushed.
“Ain't I?” he demanded again. “Say?”
The girl shook her head slightly.
“I don’t know,” she mused. “But—but what I
want to ask,” she hurried on, averting her eyes,
“isn't there something—don't you think—Oh, you
know—isn't Hal—”
The doctor laughed boisterously.
“So, that's it!” He eyed the girl with such ridicu-
lous solemnity that she laughed aloud.
Then he spoke quietly:
“No, Isabel, there's nothing the matter with Mr.
Halvey Thornton—nothing except—that is—”
“Well?” The girl's hand tightened on his arm,


THE DOCTOR THREATENS 215
“Nothing except,” the doctor continued in a mock
judicial fashion, “er—a—well, a bad affection, I'd
He reached over
53
say, in the er—cardiac region.
and covered the girl's hand with one of his own
huge paws. “Why don't you cheer that youngster
up a bit, Izzy?”
The girl's eyes were not smiling as they met the
doctor's.
“He doesn't give me a chance,” she whispered.
“I don't think Hal likes to come here any more.
Do you really think”—her eyes drifted from his
and fixed intently on the top button in the doctor's
pink-striped shirt—“that he-that Halvey—that—”
The doctor's laugh threatened to choke him.
“Oof" he grunted. “You unspeakably blind little
brat! And they talk of the discernment and the in-
tuitive knowledge of the sex feminine. Ye golden
gods!” And he went off into a fit of gurgling laugh-
ter.
The crimson stain on the girl's face spoke for her
feelings.
“You—you needn't be so—” she began, but the
doctor's bellow interrupted:
“Lord,” he chuckled, “and I’ve been knowing it
for the last ten years—every bit of it.”


216 HIDDEN EYES
The girl arose and turned her back to the chuck-
ling man in the chair, gazing fixedly out across the
lawn to where the broad expanse of the St. Johns
River cut a sparkling path across the sunshine, while
the doctor reached surreptitiously for his glass, and
swallowed the remains of the mint-julep.
When the girl turned again to the man there was
a hint of tears in her eyes, and the fat doctor shook
his head wisely and sagely.
“If you don't announce it in twenty-four hours,”
he threatened, “I wash my hands of you.”
The girl laughed happily, and her fingers ran
lightly through the doctor's graying hair.
“You’re a dear!” she gasped, and ran into the
house.
A moment the doctor sat in silence, then the smile
vanished from his lips and he began his eternal
muttering. A minute later his mind was far from
Halvey Thornton and Isabel Brannon.
“All right,” he muttered, “and if she doesn't re-
spond to that treatment—” He visualized the tense
frightened face of the little Haines girl, and frowned
heavily.
“Now, I wonder,” he grumbled, “I wonder what's
Freud's theory—” He lifted himself slowly to his


THE DOCTOR THREATENS 217
feet and waddled gravely across the porch. Still
muttering, he started down the steps, to bring up
abruptly at a hail from the door of the house:
“Silly! Here's your hat!”
The doctor stopped and turned, passing one hand
over his bare head.
“What do you know about that?” he chuckled.
“I was so busy playing Cupid I forgot.” He deftly
caught the hat the girl threw to him.
“I’ve got another julep here !” she tempted, but
the doctor shook his head resolutely.
“I’m a slave,” he groaned—“a hard-working
slave.” Then: “I want to stop by Ralby's place,”
he explained, “and get a book he's got. And remem-
ber,” he called back, once more reverting to the main
point, “if I don't hear some rumblings of that an-
nouncement in the morning, why, demme, if I don't
marry you myself"
And he heaved himself down the gravel walk
chuckling hugely at his joke.


CHAPTER XVI
RALBY LENDS A HAND
HE automobile slid, with a series of jerks,
T. rest before the ornate front of the River-
side Apartments, and the doctor descended to the
sidewalk. He lifted the hood of his car and peered
intently into the grimy interior, muttering objur-
gatory comments on gasoline engines in general and
those that chronically missed on one cylinder in
particular.
He did not venture, however, to pry into the
reasons, but satisfied himself with grumbling and
eying the mechanism balefully, after which he re-
placed the hood and turned to trundle across the
intervening sidewalk into the apartment.
The elevator-boy brought his hand up smartly to
his little red uniform cap in salute, and showed
double rows of tombstonelike teeth:
“Mornin', Doctor—powerful fine mornin’.”
218


RALBY LENDS A HAND 221
the book he sought, returned to the table and in a
few minutes was again engrossed in a huge volume.
“Sounds all right,” he muttered to himself,
“sounds fine, but does it work out?” He turned to a
case reference and studied a history sheet duplicated
in the book. “Huh,” he chuckled, “I knew it wasn't
that easy; took four treatments, eh?” He carefully
read over the history sheet a second time and closed
the book.
He looked up, rubbed his eyes, and stared about
him. Ralby had not returned, and with a shrug the
big doctor arose, placing the volume under his arm.
As he turned another book on the table caught his
eye, and he picked it up, glancing interestedly at the
title on the cover. On the Psychic Phenomena, he
read, and paged idly through the book, grunting his
scientific disgust as he read an occasional line.
“Prep school stuff!” he grunted sarcastically.
“Kindergarten junk!”
He replaced the book and turned to one of the
wall cases.
“Whew!” he whistled softly as he ran his eyes
over a set of red bindings. “Didn't know he went
in for it so seriously.”
He drew out one of the volumes and opened it at


222 HIDDEN EYES
random. In a very short time he was keenly inter-
ested and read on carefully.
“That man ain't a fool,” he commented praisingly.
“Oh, no wonder—”
He had turned to the title-page to note the
author's name and found him to be the professor of
experimental psychology in a large eastern univer-
sity.
“Dog-gone it.” The doctor glanced at his watch.
“Mae's waiting for me, too,” he grumbled and
turned.
In the doorway he collided with Ralby, who was
entering. Ralby's eyes leaped from the doctor's
around the room and back again, and, noting the
volume under the doctor's arm, he nodded. “Oh,
hello—come in; don't leave yet. I wonder who left
my door open.”
The doctor seemed to forget his haste of a mo-
ment before and returned into the room, placing
the book on the table.
“I don't know,” he grumbled. “Your infernal
door was wide open and in I sailed. Wanted this
Jung book for a day or two—don't mind, do you?”
“Surely not.” Ralby pushed a humidor of ci-
garettes across the table to the doctor. “You’re


224 HIDDEN TEYES
“Well, why don't you smoke the Turkish ones
then, if it's all the same?” challenged Ralby, and his
deep black eyes twinkled amusedly at the man across
the table.
The doctor straightened a little in his chair.
“Could,” he grumbled, “just don't like the odor.”
“Psychic,” mocked Ralby, “purely psychic.”
The doctor's smile creased his heavy face.
“Touche!” he admitted. Then, indicating the
bookcase he had so interestedly examined: “I didn't
know you went in all that seriously for this sort of
stuff, Ralby.”
Ralby shrugged deprecatingly.
“I’m only a beginner,” he demurred.
“All that new thought and hypnosis dope,” the
doctor waved his hand again—“been over all of it?”
Ralby's eyes flashed a moment, but the doctor's
heavy face was impassive and free from any sign
of guile or sarcasm. Then he nodded.
“Yes, pretty thoroughly. By the way, when are
you going to give that mania patient another treat-
ment?”
Doctor Lester hunched his fat shoulders.
“Can't say,” he admitted. “I don't know whether
to repeat it or not. But if she doesn't show any re-


RALBY LENDS A HAND 225
sponse to the treatment, I'll have to. I've tried
everything else in the catalog.”
Ralby nodded and tapped his cigarette on an ash-
tray.
“Rather peculiar, wasn't it,” he ventured specu-
latively, “Thornton's attack yesterday.” He eyed
the doctor with elaborate casualness as he put the
question. The doctor nodded.
“Yes, rather,” he admitted, then chuckled throat-
ily: “Won't happen again, I don't think.”
Ralby appeared mildly interested.
“Too high-strung, that's Thornton's trouble. I've
been watching him lately. One of these days he's
simply going all to pieces all at once.”
The doctor nodded.
“Can't make the ass see reason,” he grumbled.
“Works harder than any man in town, and that's a
fact. And now this infernal bank-robbery business
piled on top of it—” The doctor muttered his dis-
respect for any man who would worry over some-
thing that really did not concern him.
“Still, I can understand that, all right,” Ralby
nodded. “Thornton feels somehow responsible; I
can appreciate that, but that he should bother him-
self about it—” Ralby's airy gesture indicated that


RALBY LENDS A HAND 227
Then Mr. Burglar will feel a little too much above
the average run and—bing! Along comes some one
just a little bit more intelligent—and up goes Mr.
Burglar.” Ralby's face shone interestedly with
his subject. “Think! That's the keynote. Why,
man, there are men in this country—a half dozen
of 'em—in the universities—who could work this
seemingly impossible problem by sheer ability to
think.”
The doctor nodded.
“Sounds fine, Ralby, but where are your intel-
lectual giants?”
“Oh, they exist,” Ralby stated positively. “Of
course, though,” he smiled, “the chief of detectives
is hardly one of them—nor am I; but there are two
or three detectives in the world—not fiction detec-
tives, either—who would make short work of the
question.”
“Well, I wish one'd turn up,” chuckled the doctor,
“I need the five hundred, and, what's really more
important, I want Thornton to forget this whole
bally business and get his mind down to more definite
things. Overworked, that's all he is;” the doctor
blew a cloud of smoke thoughtfully ceilingward;
“and—maybe-a little emotional disturbance to help


228 HIDDEN EYES
things along, like, well—" The doctor gestured
widely.
“Like what?” questioned Ralby.
The doctor turned his little sunken eyes on the
questioner.
“Aw, don't play innocent,” he grunted; “I know
you're hit, too.”
Ralby stiffened in his chair, and his voice was a
bit too quiet:
“I assure you, Lester—I—that I haven't the re-
motest idea what—”
The doctor's laugh cut off his explanation.
“No,” he mocked. “Oh, no, you haven't.” The
doctor produced a fresh cigarette and his eyes drifted
to the picture of Isabel Brannon which stood in a
frame on one of the bookcases.
The younger man's eyes followed the doctor's
gaze and a tiny frown appeared in his forehead.
Very suddenly Ralby understood what the doctor
was driving at and his respect for the big man's
almost uncanny intuition was too great to dismiss
lightly anything he might have to say on a subject
that was very near to Ralby.
“And you think—what?” he ventured.
“I think,” replied the doctor brutally, “I think,


RALBY LENDS A HAND 229
young man, that we'll be offering congratulations—
mighty soon!” He turned his head to note the effect
of his words on Ralby, and, for the moment, the
doctor appeared to be puzzled.
Ralby was not caught napping. He smiled openly
and frankly.
“By George!” he ejaculated, “that is news; she's
a girl in a million, and Thornton—well, he deserves
her, I guess.”
“You’re mighty right he does,” the doctor rum-
bled heavily, still eying Ralby in a puzzled fashion.
“There's not a cleaner cut fellow in the city than
Hal, and not a man I’d rather see Isabel tie up with.”
The doctor hesitated a moment, then added: “You
see I’ve just about been everything but a father to
Izzy since she was born,” he apologized. “That's
why I'm so interested.”
Ralby nodded and studied the photograph of the
girl on the bookcase.
“I wonder,” the doctor smiled twistedly, “I won-
der just how hard you're hit.”
Ralby laughed clearly.
“How hard I’m hit? Not at all—not a little bit,
except to be rather glad for Isabel. And I’ll be
among the first to offer congratulations.”


230 HIDDEN EYES
The doctor got slowly to his feet, and Ralby
followed suit.
“Then drag out the silver,” offered the medical
man, “for something is sure goin' to bust loose, as
my nigger says.”
The two men walked together to the door.
“Thanks for this.” The doctor nodded to the
book under his arm. “Fetch it back to you in a day
or two.”
Ralby nodded.
“And I'll call you,” the doctor finished as he
pushed the elevator signal-button, “when I give the
kid another treatment.”
“Thanks,” Ralby called as the doctor entered
the car. “I’ll be glad to see what results you get.”
And he turned to reenter his apartment while the
doctor grumbled to the uncomprehending but grin-
ning elevator-boy: “Yeh, so will I; mighty glad!”


CHAPTER XVII
THE IRREFUTABLE FACT
HE doctor, grouchily anathematizing the
second cylinder of the engine of his automo-
bile, waddled down the long corridor of the third
floor of the St. James Building leading to his offices.
He walked, as he did everything else, in a fashion
peculiar to him; lurching from side to side ponder-
ously like a squat tramp steamer wallowing through
a heavy sea and making progress ahead where he
seemed, crablike, to be making progress abeam. His
huge head was sunk on his chest, as though making
a study of the tile of the flooring, and his continual
muttering seemed to originate deep down in his
barrel-chest.
When he neared his door he brought up sharply
and lifted his head. From his office came the sound
of voices, and he recognized immediately Mae's
voice, unmistakable, irritable and impatient.
“How many times have I got to tell you,” the
231


232 HIDDEN EYES
girl was demanding, “that I don't know when he'll
be back? Now you can either sit there or hang
around, as you've been doing all day, out in the
corridor. Why didn't you see him when he was
here?”
And the answer came in a heavy voice that seemed
trying hard to mollify the angry girl:
“Can't a bloke ask a respectable question? Aw,
say, I ain't done you nothin’, have I? I wouldn't—”
The doctor's huge form filled the doorway, and
his little eyes caught the sudden stare of the startled
detective; the bullet-headed Jackson.
The doctor's voice rumbled heavily.
“Mae, what does this—er—gentleman want?”
He emphasized the word prominently.
The girl, standing by the magazine-littered table,
eyed Jackson threateningly.
“Oh, he's been asking for you, Doctor.”
“Well?” The doctor's monosyllable was threaten-
ing as he turned to Jackson, and the bullet-headed
one shuffled nervously and twisted a derby in his
hands. “Well—I’m the doctor!” A little ominous
gleam came into the big doctor's eyes, and his frown
was thunderous.
“I—I—I,” Jackson began stuttering. “I’m from


THE IRREFUTABLE FACT 233
headquarters!” he blurted out, with an air of great
bravado.
The doctor's frown lightened not one bit.
“Headquarters?” he bellowed. “Headquarters of
what?”
The bullet-headed detective was taken aback, and
Mae turned to giggle silently into the palm of her
hand. The doctor's face was a ludicrous study of
anger, and held an expression that was almost too
funny in its incongruity with his round jovial face.
Nor could the girl decide whether the doctor was
angry in earnest.
As for the detective, he never for a moment in-
dulged in any other thought than that he had sud-
denly loosed on himself, for some unknown reason,
the anger of this colossus who stood threateningly
blocking the only means of egress.
“Well, headquarters of what?” repeated the big
man, scowling at the detective.
Jackson gazed anxiously toward the girl, whose
back was turned, fidgeted a moment, glanced toward
the telephone as though seeking means of escape in
that direction, and, finally, evidently relinquishing
the idea of making a hasty exit, answered sullenly:
“Detective headquarters.”


234 HIDDEN EYES
The hint of a smile began to dawn in the doctor's
eyes, as though the news was amusing. He looked
at Jackson a moment, then grunted:
“Well, I'm here. What's the big idea? What's
been done, and who did it?”
The detective drew closer to the doctor, and
dropped his voice to a confidential undertone, after
the manner of a true detective of fiction, for Mr.
Jackson—when he donned his badge of office—
brought with him some juvenile ideas of what con-
stituted the proper behavior of a sleuth.
“I’d like to see you—private!”
The doctor's eyebrows shot up quizzically.
“Yeh?” He eyed Jackson until that gentleman
fidgeted again. Then: “In there, then,” the doctor
ordered, indicating his private consultation-room,
and Jackson, with a look of triumph in the direction
of Mae and a look of extreme secretiveness in his
eyes, entered the office.
The doctor turned to the girl.
“Been bothering you, Mae?”
She shook her head.
“No—not that—but he's been hanging around
ever since you left, and I saw him even before that.”


THE IRREFUTABLE FACT 235
She dropped her voice: “He’s the man who is watch-
ing Mr. Thornton.”
The doctor chuckled.
“Oh, is he? I thought maybe,” and his eyes
twinkled, “that our gum-shoe friend, Franklin, had
a rival!” And he waddled across into his office,
slamming the door behind him.
“Take a seat.” The doctor nodded to the leather
chair close beside his desk. “Talk to you in a
minute.”
He shrugged out of his wrinkled coat, rolled up
his shirt-sleeves and put on a white office-coat, the
sleeves of which were cut off at the elbows, leaving
exposed the doctor's huge brawny forearms. Then
he turned into his laboratory, talking as he rum-
maged about in an instrument case:
“Be with you in a minute, Mr.—er—from head-
quarters.”
He returned bearing a huge wicked-looking in-
strument and a stiletto-like operating knife. These
he placed on the desk before him, seated himself
heavily, and slowly began to unwind the protective
wrappings on the blade of the knife.
“Now, Mr.—er—er—what was it?”


THE IRREFUTABLE FACT 237
The doctor nodded nonchalantly.
“Sure, I know it. My friend, Mr. Thornton, isn't
it? Shall I call him in P”
The detective stared wide-eyed a moment, while
the doctor resumed his polishing of the knife. Sud-
denly the detective got to his feet. It had but that
moment occurred to him that all this talk and by-
play was meant to serve but one fell purpose: that
of allowing Thornton to leave the building while he
—the valiant officer of the law—was in the doctor's
office, unable to take note of Thornton's movements.
Doctor Lester seemed in no way surprised by the
detective's sudden desire to leave, and he smiled en-
gagingly as he addressed the detective.
“Oh, no, he isn't leaving,” he assured him, and
once more Jackson's eyes popped wide. “Sit down,”
invited the doctor cordially, “sit down!” The big
man's voice grew crisp, and with one startled glance
at the doctor's hand the detective sank into the chair
while the big man rumbled aloud: “Oh, Mae!”
. When the girl appeared he turned to her smilingly.
“Call Mr. Thornton, will you? I want him to
meet this—er—gentleman from headquarters.”
The detective sat stupidly gazing for a moment,
then made as though to rise again.


238 HIDDEN EYES
“Oh, but just a minute now—” The doctor's
voice boomed, and his hand shot out gesticulating.
The detective drew back, for the instrument in
the doctor's hand had come perilously close to the
uppermost button of his coat.
“Aw, say, Doctor—” he began, but stopped short
as Thornton entered.
Thornton nodded to the doctor and glanced un-
concernedly at Jackson.
“Hal, here's a gentleman from headquarters—
from detective headquarters I believe you said, didn't
you?” The doctor turned questioningly and Jack-
son nodded sullenly. “You want to meet him,” the
doctor continued to Thornton. “Mr. Jackson—Mr.
Thornton.” The doctor smiled and nodded, then
explained: “Mr. Jackson has been detailed, so I
gather, to keep a sort of eye on you, Hal.”
Thornton started, but the doctor only nodded
heavily.
“Yep—so I thought,” he smiled ingenuously,
“that you two ought to know each other.”
The detective turned a brick-red and resolved to
brave the doctor's scalpel. He got hurriedly to his
feet and turned to the door.


THE IRREFUTABLE FACT 239
“Ah, what's your hurry?” The doctor's tone was
elaborately ironical. “You must go? Just help your-
self to my reception-room, then,” he invited, “it’s
nicer than waiting in the corridor.” And as the
bullet-headed Jackson, utterly bewildered, shuffled
out, the doctor turned laughingly to Thornton:
“Well, young hopeful?”
Thornton found words.
“Is that idiot actually watching me?” he de-
manded. “What in heaven's name is the idea?”
The doctor laughed.
“What for P” He smiled at Thornton as he offered
his cigarettes. “Oh, I reckon he wants to see what
you've been doing with all the money you've been
lifting from these vaults.”
There seemed the faintest suggestion of a gleam
in the doctor's shrewd eyes, which contrasted
strangely with the laughing wrinkles of his face,
as he rumbled the words, a gleam that seemed in-
tensified for a puzzled moment as Thornton's face
mantled with a flush of anger and Thornton turned
impulsively to the door.
The doctor's heavy hand fell on the younger man's
arril. - w


240 HIDDEN EYES
“Easy, Hal,” he counseled, and watched Thorn-
ton closely as he stopped short, with a laugh, and
dropped into the chair vacated by the detective.
“Can't the department have a right to its own
opinions?” grumbled the doctor. “And you did blow
almost too almighty loud about the impregnability
of that vault and your own miraculous powers as an
expert.”
Thornton laughed aloud.
“That's good,” he chuckled, “and I'm the only
clue the blithering asses have unearthed. I'm afraid
it looks bad for your five hundred dollars, Lester.”
The doctor shrugged resignedly.
“If I lose, I lose,” he grunted, “and Ralby will be
five hundred in, that's all. But they think you'll
bear watching, anyhow, and that beetle-browed
friend of ours is unquestionably on your trail.”
Thornton tapped a cigarette on the arm of his
chair.
“H-m,” he mused aloud, “that was why the chief
called then—to try to locate me exactly.”
The doctor's face expressed his sudden interest.
“Did the chief call you?” he questioned. “When,
and what for?”
Thornton lighted his cigarette.


THE IRREFUTABLE FACT 241
“Some time after you left,” he said. “I thought
it was funny that he should suddenly take an inter-
est in my health. Asked how I felt and whether I
was completely recovered from yesterday's attack.”
The doctor pondered this, and the little wrinkles
began to creep slowly into his face as he raised his
eyes to Thornton's face, took in that smiling young
man's eyes, and traveled to the sign above his desk,
the sign with the one word. “Think!”
“Didn't have anything else to say?" queried the
doctor mildly after a moment. “Nothing about
developments in the case?”
Thornton shook his head.
“No, just talked a minute with him; inconse-
quentials—asked what I’d been doing, I think—
whether I was out this morning—”
“What?” the word jerked from the doctor sud-
denly.
Thornton started.
“What?” he repeated, and laughed: “What—
what?” And grinned at the doctor's heavy face,
Doctor Lester shook his head.
“Getting batty,” he grumbled; “what were you
saying—something about the chief, wasn't it?”
, Thornton nodded.


242 HIDDEN EYES
“Nothing,” he laughed; “you'd better quit worry-
ing about cases and come to earth. You're a nice
one to preach the ill effects of too much work,” he
laughed.
The doctor growled, and picked up a history sheet
from the desk before him. -
“Vamose,” he grunted. “I just wanted you to
become acquainted with the embryonic Sherlock
Holmes, that's all. And I’ve got to get to work.”
Thornon rose to his feet.
“Thanks, old man, for telling me. I’d rather know
it if I’m to be shadowed about,” and, as the doctor
nodded absently, he queried: “But how did you
know it?”
“Mae's friend was on the job first,” the doctor
explained, and smiled; “she thought you ought to
know.” He raised his voice slightly. “Damned good
sort, Mae,” he grunted, “and don't forget she's go-
ing to be a party of the first part to a wedding cere-
mony soon.”
Thornton nodded.
“It was nice of her.” He looked at the doctor a
moment. “Why did she tell you, do you think?”
The doctor laughed his rumbling laugh.
“Well, Sonny, maybe she wants to see you safely


THE IRREFUTABLE FACT 243
through,” he advised finally, with which cryptic
utterance he turned to rewrap his operating instru-
ments carefully.
Thornton stood silent a moment, gazing down on
the big man in the chair.
“I think I know what you mean,” he smiled.
“And—and—Lester!”
The doctor looked up.
“Shoot it,” he advised, “what's up all of a
sudden?”
Thornton grinned as though embarrassed.
“I’m-I’m going to do it, too—to-night!”
The doctor's heavy laugh and bellowed “Go to it!”
followed Thornton as he left the room.
After the door was closed, however, the doctor
sat gazing absently at his one word motto, puffing
thoughtfully on a cigarette which he had not even
lighted.
“But, dammit all,” he growled, “I saw him my-
self l”


CHAPTER XVIII
JACKSON OBSERVES A PHENOMENON
HORNTON did not lunch with Doctor Les-
T ter, despite that gentleman's reiterated grumb-
ling comment that any man who worked on Sundays
—except, of course, doctors—was a fit subject for
an alienist's attentions.
Instead, Thornton pottered about in his labora-
tory, although he knew himself that he accomplished
but little. He looked forward tremblingly to the
coming of night and rehearsed many speeches in
his laboratory, speeches which were to be delivered
to Isabel Brannon—the gods willing.
In the late afternoon he left his office and made
for the street, recognizing in the doorway the dour-
eyed Jackson.
On the sidewalk Thornton stopped before his
machine and motioned to the detective. There was
no way for Jackson to ignore the gesture, so he
shuffled forward, mentally casting about for some
244


A PHENOMENON 245
accredited line of action under the unusual circum-
Stances.
“You might as well come with me.” Thornton
laughed. “I’m going home to dress, and then to call
on a lady.”
“Say, you tryin' to kid me?” The detective's eyes
met Thornton's laughing ones.
“Heavens, no!” Thornton smiled politely. “I am
merely telling you. There's room in my car. You
see, I’m going all the way to Riverside,” he ex-
plained, “and you'd never be able to keep up with
me, you know. And if you just must watch me, why
—come along. I live in the Riverside Apartments,
as you perhaps know, and I’m going there. Hop in.”
“By cripes, I will!” Jackson swaggered around
the car and let himself into the rumble seat behind
the roadster. And, as Thornton dropped into the
driver's seat and pressed the starter with his foot,
the detective muttered: “But don't you try to start
nothin' funny, young feller, or—”
The car shot forward and the detective grabbed
the seat in front of him. He felt extremely foolish,
perched behind Thornton in the automobile, and
hoped that he would not be seen by any of his ac-
quaintances from headquarters.


A PHENOMENON 247
ded to the detective and remarked casually: “I’m
going in for a while,” he explained, “to change
clothes. Then I’m going out to Ortega to have
dinner with a-er—young lady. You can come in
or wait here, just as you please.”
Jackson muttered something inarticulate and
climbed down on the opposite side of the car. It had
begun to sink through his thick skull that his posi-
tion was hardly dignified, but he didn't know what
to do about it.
Thornton swung into his apartment, let himself
in and commenced to dress.
The detective followed half-heartedly a moment
later, and stood before Thornton's door. Here he
heard snatches of song rising above the splashing
of water, and then the cheerful whistling of a man
very much pleased with himself, or whistling to
keep his courage up.
The detective lounged uneasily in the hallway
and wondered what course would be the best to
pursue. It had grown almost dark when the bril-
liant idea occurred to him to get in touch with the
chief of detectives, report, and demand instructions.
That would relieve him of the necessity of acting on
his own initiative, and if Thornton were indeed go-


A PHENOMENON 249
He did not, for an instant, doubt that Thornton's
open-handed invitation to accompany him was any-
thing save a deep laid plot of dire import, and he
started suddenly with a furtive look about as though
half-expecting an ambush in the quiet garage.
The garage manager offered two cars, already
mentally figuring the items of the bill he would
present to the detective department on the following
day, and Jackson picked the smaller of the two, one
that he was certain he could drive without mishap.
With a great show of secrecy, he demanded that
the tank be filled to the top, signed the receipt ten-
dered him by the manager, rolled the car in front of
the garage, felt carefully and ostentatiously of his
hip-pocket, started the engine and leaned back in
his seat, ready for anything; regretting only that
there was not some official superior to behold the
sagacious manner in which he had made ready for
the pursuit of Thornton.
Some time later Thornton emerged from the
apartment, immaculate in evening clothes. The de-
tective, who in the meantime had taken up a position
across the street, with the automobile carefully
parked around a near-by corner, watched closely as


250 HIDDEN EYES
Thornton donned a large, loose automobile-duster,
and gazed about for the detective.
Thornton seemed in no hurry to enter his car,
for he stood some time on the sidewalk leisurely
smoking. Then he turned to his automobile.
The ride to Ortega was uneventful and the de-
tective thanked his stars that the road was smooth
and the engine in the hood of his car running well.
There was no question but that Officer Jackson, of
the Jacksonville detective department, was obeying
orders literally and exactly.
Thornton, a short distance ahead of Jackson, had
no thoughts for anything save his destination. The
detective had not entered his thoughts, nor did he
make any effort to ascertain whether he was fol-
lowed.
But when his auto turned into the broad drive
leading to the Brannon home, he might have seen,
had he turned, a figure dodging furtively through
the trees, and might have heard, had he been near
enough, a puzzled muttering from the detective,
muttering which took the form of:
“Well, he didn't lie about it, anyhow.”
But Thornton's thoughts were far removed from
the detective—and even from steel vaults. And his


A PHENOMENON 251
eyes were only for the girl who stood on the dimly
lighted veranda and the welcoming hand she ex-
tended to him.
Perhaps five hundred times in his life Thornton
had so seen her, yet never before had there been—
so it seemed to him—the same quickly returned
pressure of her slender fingers, nor had she ever,
in his eyes, appeared quite so desirably wonderful.
“You look well, Mr. Chemist.” The girl's compli-
ment sent an unaccustomed flush to his cheek.
“I feel well, lady,” he smiled, “and why shouldn't
I?”
The girl disclaimed any knowledge, and together
they entered the house, while the detective, gazing
in true sleuth fashion from behind a tree, scratched
his head in perplexity.
He wandered once around the long low house;
then returned to his place. Here he stood for some
minutes, wondering whether it would be advisable
to go any nearer the lighted windows which gleamed
so brightly before him, and which were but a few
feet from the ground. He debated the question
seriously and decided definitely against the idea.
After a while he made his way to his automobile,
drove it carefully into the trees that encroached on


252 HIDDEN EYES
the driveway, smoked a preliminary cigarette, and
leaned back in his seat, contemplating with no small
amount of grumbling the possibility of a several-
hour wait and speculating on whether the chief
would send a relief for him when he returned to the
apartment.
An hour later found him pacing restlessly about,
cursing his luck and trying to recall some reason why
he should not at least return to the city for dinner
and then again take up his watch. Against this idea
he also decided, remembering that his orders had
come direct from the chief, and doubting not that
in good time the chief would discover his predic-
ament and send him aid.
After another century of waiting, and just as he
had decided to look into the lighted windows and as-
certain whether Thornton was visible, the detective
drew up abruptly as two figures descended from the
porch and came toward him across the lawn. He
recognized immediately, in the now bright moon-
light, Thornton and the girl. Thornton was bare-
headed and the bosom of his dress-shirt gleamed
plainly in the light, while the girl's dress seemed
wraithlike and elusive.
The detective rubbed his eyes and stared and the


A PHENOMENON 253
couple, oblivious of his presence, turned to one side
and continued along the walk which led around the
house. In another moment the house itself hid them
from the detective's sight.
Jackson sighed his relief as he carefully followed.
This was a job he could understand, and his orders
were to keep an eye on Thornton.
When he passed the outjutting veranda in the rear
he once more saw Thornton and the girl making
their way to the river. Jackson followed, taking ad-
vantage of the shadows thrown by the long lines of
evergreen bushes of the lawn.
He drew closer to the moving couple as they
drifted into the darkness of the river-bank, where
the overhanging branches of the weeping willows
shut out and dimmed the moonlight.
Jackson harbored no illusory romantic ideas, and
he mumbled his disapproval of any man foolish
enough to wander along a darkened river-bank when
he might sit in comfort in a house as pleasant as the
Brannon home seemed to be. But he followed
tenaciously and with considerable skill the meander-
ing couple, never for an instant losing sight of them,
although it seemed to him that they were making
unnecessarily slow progress.


254 HIDDEN EYES
It was almost a relief when he saw the man and
girl seat themselves on a bench that faced the river,
and Jackson carefully took up a position behind an
accommodating sycamore some fifteen yards re-
moved from the river-bank.
He took up again his train of wondering how long
this ridiculous assignment was going to last. Mr.
Jackson of headquarters had just begun to realize
that his watching of Thornton was ridiculous; it had
never before been his experience to shadow a man
who seemed quite willing to be followed, and who
cared so little about the fact that he invited the
shadower to accompany him, after giving him a
careful and complete itinerary of his contemplated
movements.
For a long time there was a silence between
Thornton and the girl as they sat together. Then,
in a neighboring marsh, the frogs struck up their
nightly discord, and their hoarse croaking broke the
stillness: “Co-ax, co-ax, co-ax.” The detective
crouched against his tree, grumbling against the dis-
concerting and continued croaking.
The girl smiled slightly to herself.
“I love to hear them,” she ventured softly, apropos


A PHENOMENON 255
of nothing. “And they never fail. They remind!
me always of Aristophanes' play.”
Thornton nodded absently and Mr. Jackson of
headquarters leaned stiffly against his tree.
“Do you really think,” the girl continued quietly,
“that they are saying anything?”
Thornton lifted his head.
“What was it, Isabel? Oh–the frogs, you
mean,” and they listened in silence to the continued
croaking which arose from the marsh.
The girl thoughtfully studied the man beside her,
and Thornton was entirely oblivious to her scrutiny.
He had relapsed again into an absent study of the
river at their feet, gazing moodily across the swiftly
hurrying water. The girl sighed a little, but he paid
no heed, and finally she spoke again:
“Still worrying, Hal?”
He shook his head.
“Why, no, Isabel—not any more than usual.”
Thornton turned to her, but turned as quickly away
again. “Well, yes, then, I am worried.”
The girl nodded slightly, seeming aware of what
he spoke.
“And don't you think they will catch him? Surely


256 HIDDEN EYES
he can't just go on and on without somebody—"
she glanced quickly into Thornton's eyes as he
turned to her again, and a puzzled expression came
into her face as Thornton laughed shortly.
“Oh, yes, they'll get him, I suppose. Why, they
are even watching me.”
“No?” The girl was incredulous and Thornton,
seeming to shake his lassitude from him with an
effort, spoke again.
“Oh, yes, there's some evil-faced individual trail-
ing me about; at least, there was this morning. It
seems that the detective department thinks I might
have had a hand in it.”
“But why?” The girl turned again to look di-
rectly into Thornton's face. “Why, Hal? What
makes them think so?”
Thornton shrugged.
“How should I know, Isabel? The ways of de-
tectives are past finding out, you know—like the
ways of a woman.”
The girl glanced covertly at the man, but Thorn-
ton was again looking out over the river, where the
frogs, having silenced their croaking for a while,
had once again resumed their eternal: “Co-ax, co-
ax, co-ax.”


A PHENOMENON 257
Jackson shifted his position awkwardly behind
his tree, wondering if it was Thornton's intention
to remain on the bench for the balance of the night.
Thornton did not seem disposed to speak, and
finally the girl began again:
“What else is it, Hal? Something is the matter,
I know.” There was genuine concern in her low
voice.
He shook his head.
“Nothing, Isabel; nothing—”
The girl drew imperceptibly closer to him, and a
white hand gleamed on the black of his coat-sleeve.
“There is, Hal; I know;” the girl's voice was
very low. “Aren't we pals any more, Hal? A year
ago you would have told me.”
Thornton's hand closed spasmodically.
“I—I know I would have, little lady;” and the
girl smiled at the familiar address; “just as I–as I
—as I will tell you now.”
“Yes?” The little hand on the man's arm closed
slightly, closed encouragingly on the hard forearm
beneath it.
Suddenly the man turned, and his own hand cov-
ered the girl's.
“Good God, Isabell Don't you see—can't you


258 HIDDEN EYES
see? Look at me!” he cried fiercely. “Look at
me! Now—do you see—do you understand—
sweetheart?”
A little gasp from the girl was his answer and for
a moment he was frightened at his own vehemence.
Then her voice came to him, infinitely sweet:
“It-it-it took you a long time, boy! Oh, why
did you wait?” Her face was hidden on his shoul-
der, and all the pent-up feeling of his heart went
into the little oft-repeated endearments he whispered
into her hair.
When finally she raised her eyes to the man, a
great light burned far in their depths, and the bullet-
headed Jackson of headquarters beheld a phenom-
enon—for the moon cast only one bulky shadow on
the ground before the bench.


CHAPTER XIX
RALBY ELUCIDATES
OT once in all the long drive back to his apart-
N ment, a drive which led along the boulevard
skirting the river, did Thornton know that behind
him lurched the automobile of the bullet-headed de-
tective; not even when—on occasions—the momen-
tary brilliant flash of a search-light crossed his path
as the pursuing auto wound about the numberless
curves, making it imperative for the detective to
switch on his headlights to prevent catapulting into
the river beneath him.
A misty, hazy fog obscured the moon, and the
stars twinkled uncertainly through the gossamer
drift, the river reflecting their radiance in a dimmed,
ghostly fashion.
For Thornton it was a night of wonder, and he
reveled in the breeze that swept in from the river,
heavy with the odor of pines. The stars to him had
never seemed so brightly numerous—this despite the
259


RALBY ELUCIDATES 261
PIere he took up his position, mentally determin-
ing that he would remain until it appeared beyond
doubt that Thornton was in for the night, after
which he would endeavor to get into communication
with the chief to discover whether he was expected
to remain on his post until morning.
So the bullet-headed detective loitered complain-
ingly in the shadows, giving vent to his uncompli-
mentary thoughts of a chief of detectives who would
leave a subordinate for hours without orders, and
who sent no relief to that subordinate when he had
been steadily on his job for an interminable string
of hours.
Jackson began to have faint glimmerings of the
reason that moved Thornton to invite him to ac-
company him, reasons that took the shape, even-
tually, of a feeling of certainty that—whatever
Thornton might be—he contemplated nothing ne-
farious on this night; hence, argued the detective,
his willingness not only to be watched, but to be con-
stantly accompanied by the watcher. -
What had taken place on the Brannon lawn the
detective did not know. Romance was not in his
make-up, and to him the girl and man who had sat
so utterly oblivious to their surroundings for such


262 HIDDEN EYES
an unholily long time, a time so long that the de-
tective had shivered in the cool night wind, and had
become cramped and cold from his vigil, were only
“two blasted fools,” not to be either understood or
counted in the detective's scheme of things.
He noted, with small curiosity, Ralby's arrival at
the house a moment later, saw him glance sharply at
Thornton's lighted windows, and, in a moment, saw
another light appear several stories up in the apart-
ment-house, a light which, the detective reasoned,
came from Ralby's apartment.
Then he became aware of another furtive figure
drawing closer to the apartment-house across the
street, and he watched interestedly as the man sidled
up to the house, stood as if hesitating a moment,
and then continued up the street.
Jackson's eyes followed the man until he was lost
in the darkness, and just as the detective with a
shrug was giving up the puzzle of who it might
have been, a whistle behind him brought him to
startled attention; then followed the whispered call:
“Hey, Jacks.”
A grin overspread the detective's face. It seemed
that the chief had not forgotten him after all, and
he sent back a tentative:


RALBY ELUCIDATES 265
“To-night; a little while ago.” And Thornton
grasped Ralby's outstretched hand.
“By George, I do congratulate you. It's—it's
great. Maybe that isn't some news to tickle the
doctor with, eh?” He eyed Thornton quizzically.
Thornton, still smiling, sank into a chair by the
table.
“Have a seat,” he invited. “Man, but I'm glad
you dropped in; couldn't go to sleep to save my life.”
He smiled fatuously. “Just get in?”
Ralby nodded as he took a chair directly opposite
Thornton. “Just this minute. Feeling rather wide-
awake myself.”
Thornton lighted a cigarette and impatiently
threw it aside, and almost immediately lighted an-
other.
Ralby watched the man opposite in silence for a
minute, then continued:
“Saw Bernice and Max to-night; Max inquired
about you. I had told him you were somewhat un-
der the weather.”
Thornton nodded and stretched both arms in an
all-embracing gesture.
“Feel great, Ralby—absolutely never felt better


266 HIDDEN EYES
in my life.” He laughed aloud at Ralby's expres-
sion. “Why don't you try it?” Thornton chuckled.
“Greatest little panacea for human ills that ever was,
Ralby,” he rambled on, not noting the gleam in
Ralby's eyes, nor the slight frown which corrugated
his forehead.
Finally Ralby looked at the man opposite.
“I’m not a kill-joy, Hal, but, remember, “there's
many a slip.’”
and bitterness in Ralby's light tone, but Thornton
took no heed.
There was a nuance of prophecy
“And how about your steel proposition?” Ralby
questioned, blowing rings of smoke toward the ceil-
ing.
Thornton seemed not to hear, or at least seemed
uninterested.
“Isn't she the most adorable—” His eyes were on
the picture before him, and Ralby smiled leniently
in a superior, tolerant fashion.
“Oh, well then—if you just must talk of the lady.
When is the big event to be?”
“Haven't decided.” Thornton dropped his half-
smoked cigarette into an ash-tray and arose to pace
the room restlessly. “But soon—yes, man—soon.


RALBY ELUCIDATES 267
Think of it! I've known her nearly all my life, and
it took this long to-"
Ralby's laugh cut into his monologue.
“Going to announce it, aren't you?”
“Sure; in the morning. Say, don't mention it to
Lester if you see him before I do. I want to spring
this on him myself,” and Thornton chuckled with
anticipatory pleasure.
Ralby nodded.
“Afraid it won't be news to him, though,” he
commented, and Thornton only laughed.
“Lord, I’ve been blind,” he smiled, “blind as a bat;
but whoever would have thought—”
“Oh, come to earth,” Ralby bantered with a show
of good nature, and, as Thornton resumed his seat,
Ralby reached for a fresh cigarette and continued:
“Any new developments to-day in the matter of the
robbery?” he questioned casually. “Or the rob-
beries, rather, since our friend seems to have gone
in for it on the wholesale plan.”
“None that I know of, except that there's an ass
from police headquarters that has been following
me around.”
“Following you?” Ralby seemed interested.


268 HIDDEN EYES
“Started this morning, I think. Lester introduced
me to the gentleman,” and with much gusto he re-
lated the manner in which the doctor had accom-
plished the introduction of Mr. Jackson from head-
quarters.
Ralby pondered the readily volunteered informa-
tion.
“It is a bit funny,” he remarked at length, “that
they should have picked you out. Now if it had
been me, there might have been some reason. I don't
think I personally stand exactly ace high with the
chief.”
“What's the difference?” laughed Thornton. “He
no doubt felt that he had to make a bluff of doing
something, and perhaps Lester's explanation is the
right one.”
Ralby's face expressed a query.
“Lester says,” Thornton explained, “that I talked
too much, and the chief got suspicious.”
Ralby nodded.
“He had a right to, I think. You did boast pretty
loudly, you remember.” And as Thornton did not
reply, Ralby rose slowly to his feet: “Well, it looks
as though I'm in five hundred from our medico
friend,” he smiled.


RALBY ELUCIDATES 269
“I hope you're not,” Thornton commented. “I’m
afraid, however, that you stand a pretty good chance
to win.”
Ralby picked up a richly bound book from the
table, riffled the pages, and played with it absently.
“This the sort of stuff you read?” He glanced at
the title and turned to Thornton.
Thornton leaned over, looking at the book.
“What is it?” he asked, and took the book from
Ralby. On the cover he read: Memoirs of a Physi-
cian; and below, the author, Alexandre Dumas.
“No,” he shook his head, placing the book on the
table. “That's one of Lester's. He's amusing him-
self with Dumas lately; swears he's going to wade
through an entire twenty-eight-volume edition.”
Ralby dismissed the subject with a shrug. He
lingered, however, by the table, as though he wanted
to speak of something else, and seemed uncertain
what to say first.
At last he began:
“Don’t think I'm an infernal meddler, Thornton,”
he apologized embarrassedly, gesturing with a cig-
arette. “But this news of you and Isabel—well, it's
interesting,” he finished lamely.
Thornton nodded. He could see that there was


RALBY ELUCIDATES 271
lot more than I ever will, Ralby, about—well—about
sex psychology, and all that sort of thing. Don't
think I’m just a darned fool, Ralby. I'm simply a
little light-headed to-night—happiness, I suppose,
but I know that there's more—as you say—to it
than just marrying, settling down, and living hap-
pily ever after.”
Ralby, still standing, nodded with averted face.
“You’re right, there is, Thornton, and, if you'll
let me, I’d like to lend you a book or two which you
ought to see.”
Thornton looked his appreciation.
“Sit down, won't you?” he invited. “You’re not
tired, I know.”
Ralby took the indicated chair.
“Lester can tell you about all these things—oh,
all sorts of reactions—” he gestured with his cig-
arette, “and he doubtless will. But, remember, Hal,
Lester's a medical man, and bound more or less by
the often stupid contentions of the materialistic
school to which he belongs.”
Thornton was gazing thoughtfully at the table,
listening interestedly, and Ralby continued quietly
and earnestly:


CHAPTER XX
WITH THE GOODS
R. JACKSON of headquarters kicked wi-
ciously against a telegraph post and snapped
a finished cigarette into the street.
“Say, ain't it time yet?”
His colleague, Hanson, raised studious eyes from
the ground which he had been contemplating for
fifteen minutes.
“Time? Oh, to report, you mean. You're rather
impatient, Jackson.”
“Impatient!” Snorted Jackson disgustedly. “If
you'd been on this silly watch as long as I have
you’d be worse than impatient; you'd be mighty
damned sore, that's what. Here I chase a guy all
over the state of Florida for a day—a guy, mind
you, who knows I’m chasing him and don't give a
whoop—and then stand out here in this blankety-
blank street for another half year, with no relief in
273


274 HIDDEN EYES
sight! You're mighty right I'm impatient! I'm
impatient to eat.” Jackson thought hungrily of the
down-town restaurants.
Hanson yawned slightly, and held his watch up
to catch the moonlight.
“Five minutes of one,” he advised. “What is it
you desire me to say to the chief for you?”
“I don't desire nothin’,” Jackson snapped in an-
swer. “You tell him I want relief from this job out
here pronto, or he might as well send an undertaker
for me in the mornin'. I'll be starved.”
Hanson permitted himself the luxury of an
amused smile at the bullet-headed detective's rare
humor. Hanson could afford to smile; he had dined
well, previous to following Ralby to the apartment,
and Jackson seemed to divine the fact.
“That's right, grin" he growled. “You ain't got
no better sense nohow—grin, dammit!” And he
stormed off up the street, careful, however, not to
get too far from the apartment-house.
Hanson leisurely watched the irate Jackson turn
about and prepare again to take up his tirade,
whereupon he yawned impolitely, and walked in the
direction of the garage near by, from there to get in
communication with the chief of detectives and re-


WITH THE GOODS 275
port; also to request relief for his wrathful col-
league.
“Huh,” Jackson snorted, as the darkness engulfed
Hanson, “now maybe somebody else can come out
and rubber at the front of that house for a while.”
And Jackson produced a cigar—his last—and
clamped his tobacco-stained teeth down hard on the
end.
It was no part of Jackson's program to remain
there all night and he impatiently waited the return
of the slow Hanson, the while he wondered casually,
and finally interestedly, why Thornton's light—
which had been burning the better part of an hour—
should not yet have been extinguished.
For just an instant it crossed his twenty-two-cal-
iber mind that it might be a good thing to endeavor
to take a peep into the windows. This thought how-
ever was soon dismissed. Initiative was no out-
standing part of the detective's character, and he
chewed his cigar impatiently, envisioning sundry de-
lectable viands with which he would regale himself
when a substitute arrived.
He scowled in the direction of the garage, into
which Hanson had disappeared, and mumbled his
intense disapproval of “any man with a face like a


276 HIDDEN EYES
horse and the brain of a peanut, who didn't have no
better sense than—”
The mutter stuck in his bull-neck, and his eyes
popped open as he stared across the street.
Thornton had come out of the apartment—the
light in his room remaining burning—and stood in
the doorway for a moment, as though undecided
what to do. Then he turned north, walking leisurely
up Riverside Avenue.
Jackson found voice:
“Now what in the name of the devil—” he
groaned aloud, watching the disappearing figure of
Thornton.
Then he turned to look toward the garage, but
there was yet no sign of a returning Hanson. For
an instant Jackson was tempted to let Thornton go
where he pleased without surveillance, but the habit
of obedience was strong, and, cursing his luck in no
uncertain terms, the detective hurried across the
street and began to follow the man ahead.
“An' he's gonna walk,” the detective growled,
chewing his cigar, as Thornton made no effort to
turn in the direction of the garage, but, instead, con-
tinued slowly and leisurely up the avenue in the
general direction of the city.


WITH THE GOODS 277
Twice beneath faintly sputtering arc-lights Jack-
son dived hurriedly behind a near-by tree, fearful
lest the man ahead of him should grow suspicious
and turn suddenly, and, though his steps made no
sound, Jackson rose frequently to tiptoe forward
with painful silence that he might make sure it was
indeed Thornton he was following, and not some
other resident of the apartment-house.
On lower Riverside Avenue the long lines of elec-
tric sidewalk lights brightly illuminated the deserted
street, and, when Thornton hesitated for an instant
at the approach to the viaduct which led to Broad
Street, Jackson flattened himself painfully against
a wall, peering intently forward.
The man before him, however, seemed to resolve
on a definite course, and began again to walk slowly
on, while Jackson crept behind him, squeezing him-
self against the walls and windows of the stores he
passed to reduce his visibility to a minimum should
Thornton suddenly stop and wheel about.
Beneath the viaduct a passenger-train shot with
a loud screeching from its engine. The suddenly
shattered silence echoed with the sound, and Jack-
son swore violently under his breath. The man who


278 HIDDEN EYES
walked in front of him, however, seemed in nowise
startled by the sudden ear-splitting noise, and, when
they crossed Broad Street, near the center of the
city, the detective was close enough to notice that
Thornton had changed from his evening clothes,
and that he was now wearing a dark sack suit.
Jackson drew breathlessly closer to his quarry as
he continued along Broad Street to Forsythe, and
ran silently forward as the figure turned sharply
down Forsythe Street, fearful of losing his man.
On peering around the corner, however, he
breathed a sigh of relief to see Thornton still con-
tinuing his leisurely stroll, and Jackson now crossed
boldly to the opposite side of the street, from where
he kept almost abreast of the walking man.
Only occasionally did any one pass, and then
Thornton seemed to pay them no attention what-
ever, but continued nonchalantly on, as though cer-
tain of his destination and of arriving there in due
time to accomplish whatever purpose he had in
mind.
At one corner, Jackson wigwagged a greeting to
a drowsy policeman, and nodded his head in the di-
rection of Thornton, to explain his haste.
And still making apparently not the slightest ef-


WITH THE GOODS 279
fort to hide his movements, Thornton crossed the
street at a sharp angle, while the detective, grown
tense now, drew closer and closer to the unsuspect-
ing figure.
And when Thornton stopped abruptly before the
ornate building of the Second National Bank, the de-
tective was but a few feet behind, literally holding
his breath with excitement.
Thornton turned to go around the building, and
the detective's eyes blazed eagerly as he stopped at
the entrance to the areaway on which the Second
National Bank building backed.
Here it was darker, but the detective's ears, grown
suddenly keen, heard the unmistakable jingle of
keys, and the shadow which had indicated Thornton
to his eyes disappeared suddenly, followed immedi-
ately by a slight creaking noise, as that of a door
carefully closed.
The detective hurried forward into the darkness
and reached the alleyway. He turned quickly to the
small door which led into the rear of the bank build-
ing, and, with a strained, eager expression on his
face, he twisted the knob slowly, pushing easily
against the door.
It resisted his efforts, and he muttered a soft


280 HIDDEN EYES
curse. For a second he hesitated, then dashed out
and around the building to the front doors. Edging
gently around a pillar, the detective pressed his face
close to the glass panels of a door, but could make
out nothing within. The building stood silent and
empty, and no sound came to the bullet-headed de-
tective as he slipped quietly down the steps.
He dived across the street into an all-night lunch-
room and snatched at a telephone. While he waited,
moving about impatiently, he kept one keen eye on
the door of the bank across the street. Irritably he
jangled at the receiver, and barked commandingly
at the operator: “Keep ringing—it's important!”
In a moment the connection was made, and a
drowsy voice came across the wire.
“Yes—yes,” panted Jackson into the instrument,
keenly alive with the excitement of it, “went into
the bank—saw him myself—the back way—I'm
talking from Demos's place—yeh–all right—all
right.” -
An interested waiter inquired what was up, and
Jackson, as though the sight of the white-coated man
had suddenly reminded him of something, growled
an order from the doorway, and stood there impa-


WITH THE GOODS 281
tiently while it was filled. Then he recrossed the
street, taking huge bites from sandwiches in his
hand, and literally choking with the impatience of
his wait. -
An automobile slowed up from the direction of
Main Street and jerked to a halt, and the half-
dressed chief of detectives jumped out.
“No, he ain't come out—went in the back I tell
you—yes, sir, with a key. 'Course I’m sure it's
him—ain't I been on his trail all day?”
“All right; you keep an eye out,” was the chief's
superlative advice to his subordinate, and the chief
in turn took his position at the telephone in the café.
The waiter, now knowing that something was un-
doubtedly going on, appeared in the doorway, vol-
ubly offering aid.
In a very few minutes a second automobile drew
up before the café, and the bank president arrived,
followed almost immediately by a half dozen plain-
clothes men from headquarters, among whom was
Franklin.
Jackson, swollen visibly from the effects of the
sudden spotlight in which he found himself, gave
the details of the trip from Riverside, a trip which


282 HIDDEN EYES
Jackson made—according to himself—with a re-
volver in one hand and a flashlight in the other,
ready for any and all contingencies.
“And he's in there?” gasped the banker.
“He is,” nodded Jackson dramatically.
The chief turned to Franklin and another of the
Inen.
“You two take the areaway; watch that doorway,
and stop any one who comes out. If he don't stop
on order—shoot!”
Franklin turned to obey, followed by the other
man detailed, to whom Franklin confided in no un-
certain terms that Jackson had been the victim of a
sudden nightmare, and that, furthermore, Jackson
was a complete and utter ass, and that—still further
—Thornton was no doubt safely asleep in his own
apartment; and the furtive figure which Jackson
shadowed from Riverside so stealthily and bellig-
erently was none other than some harmless citizen
returning from a late game of draw poker.
The chief, meanwhile, placed men at each of the
bank's doors, and, taking the keys extended by the
banker, he motioned to Jackson and the bank presi-
dent to follow him. Very carefully he made his way
up the wide steps, and unlocked one of the large


WITH THE GOODS 283
front doors; he swung it open but the smallest space
and squeezed into the bank, followed by the financier
and Jackson, who crouched in the most approved
fashion and carried a tremendous forty-five in one
hand.
With infinite care the chief closed the door behind
him, and the three men drew breath sharply as a
slight squeak met the chief's efforts silently to close
the door.
They stood huddled together in the interior of the
bank building breathing softly. Not a sound broke
the silence, and Jackson covered his heart with a
huge paw, wondering why the sound of it was not
disturbing the other two men.
“I wonder,” the banker whispered, “I wonder
where Jensen is. He ought to be right—”
A rough hand on his mouth, the chief's hand, was
his answer, and he bit his lips silently.
The chief leading the way, the three crept care-
fully around toward the left, and past the long row
of tellers' cages. Once they heard a sharp click, me-
tallic and penetrating, and held their breaths anx-
iously, and once Jackson gave voice to a whispered
“damn” as he all but collided with a writing stand
on the bank floor,


WITH THE GOODS 285
for a long minute listening strainedly for a repeti-
tion of the sound.
A few steps farther on, and a crouching figure
could be made out bending over the dials of the
combinations of the vault, endeavoring to see them
without the aid of a light. From the ventilating
space above there filtered the tiniest ray of soft
gray. The chief of detectives' hand trembled with
eagerness.
Again that tiny circle of light flashed on the glis-
tening vault surface. The man worked silently and
steadily, and, while the watchers gazed with amaze-
ment, there came a soft sound as of the sliding of
heavy bolts.
The banker's own hand covered his mouth—
covered it to prevent a startled outcry. There was
something familiar in that almost silent slide as the
huge bolts of the immense vault dropped from their
grooves in answer to the manipulated combinations.
The man before the vault backed slowly away a
few paces and stood quiet an instant, while the three
breathless watchers having reached the end of the
tiled flooring dared make no farther step in his
direction. -
A spasm of apprehension twisted Jackson's face


286 HIDDEN EYES
as the figure at the vault straightened slowly from
his stooped position, but the man did not turn, only
stood gazing at the door for the smallest fraction
of an instant.
Then he stepped forward—a bundle of shadows
merely—and only the banker recognized the metallic
clang that echoed through the bank, a clang that
bespoke the fact that the steel floor plate directly
in front of the circular door had dropped to a
lower level to permit the swinging open of the door
itself.
The watchers gasped in amazement as the inert
thing of steel suddenly seemed to acquire life, and
the eight-ply steel door of the Second National Bank
vault began to sway open slowly on its tremendous
hinges.
The chief raised his revolver at the precise instant
that the electric globes in the domed ceiling of the
bank leaped to life, stabbing the dark with a blinding
flood of brilliance—
“Hands up!”
It was the voice of Jensen, the night watchman,
from the other side of the bank vault. A quick flash
of the watchman's eyes revealed the three uncon-
sciously crouching men on the opposite side, headed


WITH THE GOODS 287
by the detective chief with his revolver extended
menacingly.
The tableau lasted but an instant.
The man at the vault-door seemed to cringe, sway
forward and suddenly jerk upright, blinking in the
glaring electric light.
“Got 'im!” exulted the chief, leaping forward.
“Got 'im with the goods !”


CHAPTER XXI
TO THE RESCUE
HE early gray dawn filtered through the
branches of the sycamore trees that grew
about the windows of Doctor Lester's bedroom,
and threw a ghastly light into the room, vaguely
outlining its furnishings. -
Breathing in a stentorian fashion, a checkered
quilt drawn high over his huge shoulders, Doctor
Lester slept heavily. On his face was an expression
of cherubic peace and contentment, and the quilt
rose and fell regularly over his barrel-like chest.
The telephone on a small stand by the doctor's
bed rang sharply and insistently, and the doctor
turned grumblingly in the bed which creaked be-
neath him as he slid farther under the cover in an
effort to shut out the sound of the telephone.
For a moment there was silence; then the jangling
began again, and, half awake, the doctor reached out
288


TO THE RESCUE 289
one short arm for the instrument. Laboriously he
hoisted himself upright, and grunted sleepily:
“H'lo—yes—Doctor Lester—uhuh!”
Then his drowsiness dropped from him magic-like
and he jerked tense in the creaking bed. “What's
º
that—what's that? Man, you're crazy! Who's talk-
ing? Chief? What's that again? You got Thornton!
The devil you did; yes, I’m coming—all right, com-
ing now.”
The doctor's heavy face was expressionless as he
stupidly surveyed the room in the dim light of the
early morning, his eyes coming to rest finally on the
telephone he had mechanically replaced on its stand.
Then, as though but just realizing the import of
the words that had come to him, the doctor slid
from his bed. As he threw on his clothes, with even
less regard for them than usual, he muttered aloud
a stream of invectives against the detective depart-
ment.
The doctor knew that Thornton was to have
called on Isabel Brannon the evening previous, and
for an instant the thought crossed his mind that,
perhaps, things had not gone so well as expected in
Ortega.
As he stooped groaningly over his shoes he raised


TO THE RESCUE 291
did the chief of detectives, and chewed his very
black cigar with evident relish as he contemplated,
in his own imagination, the profuse apologies that
were to be extended him by the newspaper boys
when the story was given to them.
He raised his eyes smilingly as the doctor entered,
and indicated a chair near his own by the desk; and
the doctor, glancing heavily about him as though
expecting to see Thornton, perhaps, took the indi-
cated chair.
“Well,” the detective greeted jocosely, “I got
'im 1" The words seemed to have a delectable flavor,
for the chief detective hung on them smilingly and
repeated, after a moment: “Yes, I’ve got him—all
right.”
The doctor controlled himself with visible effort,
and only slumped in his chair grumbling a “good
morning.” It was the doctor's professional manner
to begin always at the beginning.
“Will you tell me about it?” he questioned the
chief slowly. And it spoke eloquently for the state
of the doctor's mind that, up to the moment he
spoke, his hand had not gone into his coat-pocket
for his cigarettes.
The mere mechanical act of lighting the cigarette


296 HIDDEN EYES
After a while Lester pursed his lips slowly, and
the chief leaned forward to catch the one word that
the doctor muttered hopefully:
“Somnambulism.”
“Hell!” exploded the chief. “That's what he'll
try to get away with, is it? A fat chance he's got.
A man don't walk in his sleep from Riverside to
town and then sneak in behind a bank and let him-
self in—no, nor he don't open vaults in his sleep
either—not much he don't!”
The chief knocked the ashes from his cigar with
a careless gesture.
“You’ll have to dope out something better than
that, Doctor,” he chuckled. “Funny he'd look,
wouldn't he, tryin' to convince a judge that a vault
he couldn't open when he was wide awake was pie
from mama for him when he was asleep? Oh, my!”
And the chief shook with his laughter, amused
at the prospect. Then he turned again to the doctor,
who had made no reply to the outburst.
“Oh, we've got 'im all right,” the chief exulted,
“and none of this somnambulism stuff is going to
get him anywhere at all.”
The doctor continued to study the floor with


TO THE RESCUE 299
continuing his drumming, and the chief Scowled at
him thunderously, chewing his cigar.
“I’m telling you, Doctor,” the chief began again,
“that I never saw a more certain open-and-shut case
in this town, and I’ll take my oath—”
The doctor raised one hand.
“Just a minute,” he growled heavily. “Use your
head—why do you suppose he never attempted any-
thing like this before, if it is all that easy?”
The chief studied this a minute, then laughed
shortly.
“Aw, g’wan, that ain't an argument. Never was
a man who didn't have to begin somewhere, was
there?” The chief chuckled at the crushing logic of
his retort.
The doctor made as though to speak, when the
door opened and Franklin stepped in.
“Well?” The chief turned quickly to the detective,
leaning forward eagerly.
“He says,” Franklin began shamefacedly, turn-
ing to the chief but really eying the doctor in his
chair; “he says that he don’t know a thing and can't
make any explanation. Says he went home—went
to sleep, and the next thing he remembers is you
standing there with your gun in his face. That’s all.”


300 HIDDEN EYES
The detective twisted his hat nervously. On the
face of it, even the skeptical Franklin had to come
to the one inevitable conclusion. - -
“And what about the other?” asked the chief.
“Did you put it up to him that it might go easier if
he came across with the money he stole first?”
Franklin reddened.
“Yeh,” he nodded, “an' he looked at me like I
was dippy. Didn't know what I was talkin' about,
and if ever a man looked clean, Chief—”
The chief snorted.
“By God, I'll make him—”
“He says,” Franklin broke in, “that he'd like for
you to phone for the doctor here; he wants to see
him.”
The chief turned to the doctor, whose little eyes
brightened on hearing the detective's advice. He was
afraid that perhaps Thornton's mind was deranged,
but his request to see the doctor evidenced the fact
that at least he thought lucidly. The doctor drew
himself up heavily in his chair.
“All right, Doc,” the chief grumbled, “but you
ain't going to try to frame up nothin' on me, are
you?”


TO THE RESCUE 301
The doctor did not answer, and the chief's fist
crashed on his desk.
“Damn!” he ejaculated. “Go ahead—talk to him
—do what you please—talk all the scientific dope
you like—it's an open-and-shut case, I tell you.”
The chief's face reddened under the mild little eyes
Doctor Lester turned on him, and he curbed his
vehemence: “We’ve got him,” grunted the chief,
“and we're going to keep him, and all your claiming
he was walkin' in his sleep ain't going—” he broke
off angrily and turned to Franklin.
“Let the doctor see him, and you stay with 'em,”
he ordered. “Take Jackson in with you, too. Then,
take Mister Thornton,” he underlined the mister
sneeringly, “down to headquarters and see that he's
given a nice warm place to stay until we want him.”
The doctor turned with the detective to the door,
and waddled heavily into the corridor, the chief's
eyes flashing balefully as the door closed behind
them. It was no part of the chief's intentions to be
done out of his just deserts by any scientific dope,
as he called it, and he set his shrewd mind to work
to counteract and refute the doctor's suggestions.
His eyes fell upon the keys on his desk, and sud-


302 HIDDEN EYES
denly the chief of detectives leaned back in his chair,
chuckling hugely.
“I reckon he made these keys in his sleep, too—”
and he went off into a fit of laughter at the thought
of what a squashing blow to the doctor's theory lay
in the keys before him, strung harmlessly on the
little bit of silver cord.
The detective in the corridor leaned toward the
doctor hesitatingly.
“You—you know, Doc,” he pleaded, “I ain't had
nothing to do with this—this—honest. But—but—”
the detective hesitated again, and the doctor rumbled
a heavy:
“All right, but what?”
“It does look mighty bad for him,” the detective
finished. “I ain't sayin',” he added hastily, “that he
did 'em all, y' understand—maybe he just thought
he could get away with this.”
The doctor did not answer as they turned into a
corridor leading in the opposite direction and
brought up before a door guarded by the bullet-
headed Jackson.
The men entered the room, a sub-office belonging
to the detective department. In one corner, his head
buried in his hands, sat Thornton. He did not look


CHAPTER XXII
THE DOCTOR MAIKES A PROMISE
LITTLE before eight o'clock A.M. found
Aºi. the detective, standing before a
house on a side street, whistling with what he be-
lieved was a certain cheerfulness, but which, in re-
ality, sounded more like a funeral dirge.
The detective glanced at his watch, kicked the
ground thoughtfully, then turned to the front door
of the house, as though impatient.
Ben Franklin's impatience, in itself, spoke vol-
umes, for the innumerable times he had stood in
exactly this place—every morning, as a matter of
fact—awaiting the appearance of the lady of his
heart, had taught him that promptness was not
exactly the most prominent of Mae's virtues.
It was the detective's custom to walk with the girl
each morning from her house to the doctor's office,
and leave her there, discussing on the way such
304


THE DOCTOR MAKES A PROMISE 305
topics of absorbing interest as the doctor's latest wit-
ticisms, Mae’s favorite moving-picture hero, the
latest song hit, and—of late—the atrociously high
rental rates of certain apartments on which Mr.
Ben Franklin had long cast an expectant eye.
Mae finally came from the house, a mere mat-
ter of fifteen minutes late, and waved a greeting
from the porch, whereupon Ben Franklin's face
screwed itself into a smile of greeting, and the im-
patience of waiting was forgotten utterly.
During the short walk that followed Franklin
seemed most unaccountably embarrassed, and the
girl, with the keen intuition of the woman, talked
lightly of this and that, knowing that, in good time,
the man at her side would interrupt her inconse-
quentialities.
Twice it seemed that her intuition was correct,
for Franklin stuttered the beginning of a sentence,
only to relapse into a sullen silence, his face flaming
red as the girl paid no attention to his efforts to
speak.
There is small question that, if the walk had been
longer, Franklin would have relieved his feelings by
speech of his own accord. The time was short,
however, and the girl stopped suddenly:


THE DOCTOR MAKES A PROMISE 307
toppling over one another in his anxiety to make her
understand how it had come about, and to show her
that he really had had no hand in the capture, for to
Franklin the idea that he might have offended the
girl was of considerably more importance than the
capture of a half dozen bank robbers. So he ex-
plained volubly and continuously, reiterating his
own belief in Thornton's innocence of having per-
petrated the robberies on which the department had
been at work.
When finally they stepped from the elevator of
the St. James Building and started down the com-
paratively deserted corridor, the girl spoke:
“It isn't right!” she cried vehemently. “It isn't,
I tell you. He didn't do it. I know he didn't. I–”
She choked suddenly and Franklin patted her arm
clumsily.
Then as they neared the door of the doctor's
offices she turned fiercely on the man at her side.
“And don't you ever dare speak to me again—
you—you—” She dashed into the office, leaving
the detective staring ruefully at his hat, and shaking
his head sadly.
“Ain’t that just like a woman?” mused Franklin
aloud. “Ain’t it?” he inquired again of the empty


THE DOCTOR MAKES A PROMISE 309
joyousness, and the doctor rubbed his face with a
soiled hand.
“I want to be—”
The girl came forward impulsively.
“I just heard about it,” she began. “It isn't so—
I know it isn't so.”
The big doctor shook his head slowly.
“Don’t get excited, Mae—bad for your heart;”
a bit of his usual bantering lightness crept into his
voice. “Of-of course, it isn't so,” he went on
more seriously. “We’ll simply have to work it out,
that's all. Now—” -
“Can't I do something?” the girl pleaded. “Can't
I help you in-"
The doctor's eyes softened.
“Yes, Mae—you can go down the hall to Doctor
Hale's and get me—tell him I'll return it immedi-
ately—a volume of Coriat he has. It's on Abnormal
Psychology. Thanks.”
He sat quietly after the girl had left, his hands
flanging listlessly on each side of his chair, and when
in a few moments the girl returned with a red-
bound volume he took it from her mechanically and
dropped it on the littered desk before which he sat,


310 HIDDEN EYES
“And—and—Miss Isabel—” the girl began slowly
but the doctor's voice interrupted softly:
“She promised, last night, to marry Halvey.”
“I’m glad—oh, I'm glad " The girl's hands went
to her breast. “Now—” A weary gesture from the
doctor stopped her, and she turned from the room,
closing the door softly behind her.
In the outer office she dropped into a chair, and
sat, staring wide-eyed before her, making no move-
ment to clear the magazine-covered table, or re-
arrange—as was her invariable custom—the chairs
about the large reception-room. -
She seemed fascinated by the telephone which
stood on a little side table, and she wondered whether
she dared use it to call Isabel Brannon. She did not
know whether the girl knew of Thornton's arrest;
the doctor had not said, and she did not even con-
sider again disturbing the huge man in the inner
office.
The picture of his lined tired face was still in
her eyes, and she knew him too well to fail to appre-
ciate his feelings.
For the doctor, his few friendships were a pas-
sion, although he conducted himself, usually, in a
grumbling, grouchy fashion which successfully con-


312 HIDDEN EYES
The doctor's little eyes glared, and Ralby hurried
on: “Why, what's wrong? Haven't you heard?
They caught him last night.”
The doctor gasped, running a finger around his
disarrayed collar. His big chest heaved strangely;
then he seemed to sense the reason for the other
man's joking tone.
“Don’t you know who it is?” The doctor's voice
was incredulous.
Ralby started at the ominous question.
“Why, no. I haven't heard. I only heard that
some one was caught in the Second National Bank—
there's nothing in the papers—fancy a man trying
it twice—who was it?”
The doctor slumped farther in his chair.
“Thornton.”
“No!” Ralby stiffened visibly. “Good lord, man,
what are you talking about?”
The doctor waved Ralby to a chair, and in a
heavy monotone outlined the events of the early
morning as he had learned them.
Ralby listened with intense eagerness while the
doctor was speaking, watching the big man keenly
as he rumbled on, telling the story—a story which
seemed to damn Thornton utterly. The doctor made


THE DOCTOR MAKES A PROMISE 313
no effort to gloss over the grim evidence against
his friend.
When he finished, Ralby leaned back with a sigh.
He produced a cigarette-case and tapped a cigarette
absently against the arm of his chair, while a tiny
frown appeared between his eyes.
“Somnambulism?”
The doctor groaned.
“That's what I'm trying to determine. It's not—
man, it's inexplicable. There's no similar case on
record, and yet—what else?” The doctor's hand
made a gesture of helplessness. “It is—it was som-
nambulism, or something close akin to it—an ob-
session—that's it!—he worried day and night about
his ability to enter that vault. His subconscious
mind held the idea—held it always—then, in his
sleep—well?”
The doctor's jerky sentence ended abruptly, ended
as the huge unwieldy man recognized the futility
of his own arguments.
Ralby, however, who knew only what the doctor
had but just told him, nodded his head.
“Um. It might have been possible. He acted in
his sleep on the suggestion of his subconscious mind
—on the subconscious certainty that he could get


314 HIDDEN EYES
:
into the place—but—” Ralby shot a quick glance
at the doctor as he shrugged. “It’s far-fetched,
Lester; damnably far-fetched, and as for trying to
prove it to a lay jury—”
The doctor leaned forward.
“You don't believe—be candid, Ralby—you don't
believe he did it consciously?”
Ralby frowned.
“I don't know, Lester,” he apologized. “He’s just
engaged—oh, yes, he told me—and he needed money
—he's not rich, you know—” Ralby broke off at the
light which leaped into the little eyes of the man
opposite.
“You don't believe that, Ralby.” The doctor's
voice was ominously quiet. “You know damned well
you don't. Money? Great God, I’ve got plenty—
he could have had it for the asking, and he knew it,
and Isabel—” The doctor slumped forward in his
chair again.
“Help me out, Ralby,” he said slowly. “I’ll need
all the help you can give me—there is a way out,
as certainly as I'm here before you there is a way!”
He passed a hand over his forehead. “And there's
nothing I wouldn't do—and Max will help; I know
he will—dammit, I'll make him help!”


316 HIDDEN EYES
cated. She stared at the figure of the doctor—stared
vacantly.
“Mae called me up,” she explained in a dead voice.
The doctor patted her shoulder encouragingly.
“Of course—of course we'll work it out,” he
assured her heavily. “It’s some blunder—some ri-
diculous—”
“Tell me about it. Tell me everything—every-
thing you know. I—I–promised last night—”
The doctor nodded hurriedly.
“I know, Izzy; Hal told me of it—told me this
morning—”
“Then you've seen him?” The girl's hands went
out eagerly. “Oh, tell me—”
After a little while the girl rose slowly to her feet
and turned to face the doctor.
“I’m going to give the announcements of our en-
gagement to the papers now,” she said quietly.
The stodgy doctor coughed to hide his feelings,
and his eyes blazed earnestly.
“He deserves—” he began chokingly, but the re-
serve which the girl had held so long gave way com-
pletely and she dropped to the couch sobbing.
The big man stood over her helplessly. He was
glad she was crying. Tears would do no harm.


318 HIDDEN EYES
urging the girl to come with him; that he would see
her home; that everything possible was being done—
Footsteps outside indicated that they had left to-
gether, and the doctor sat before his littered desk,
a dead cigarette between his fingers, his eyes staring
ahead—seeing nothing.


THE STRING TO IT 321
He moved toward his chair with an automaton-
like gait, his eyes still fixed on the motto, and
dropped into the seat, nodding his head slightly and
muttering aloud:
“Think! Think!”
One hand lay inert on his desk; with the other
he toyed nervously with the penholder, then dropped
it and twisted a small paper-weight in his fingers.
This, too, he discarded, and continued, all uncon-
sciously, playing with first one article and then an-
other on his littered desk.
“Think I’
The motto seemed to glare at him from the wall,
and finally he tore his eyes from it with an effort,
and resolutely stared at the books on his desk.
As he gazed a look of amazement came into his
eyes; a look of incredulity, and he held his breath
for an instant, with wide-open mouth, staring at the
fingers of his hand.
His stained, soiled fingers were carelessly twisting
something between them, twisting it and untwisting
it in a haphazard fashion, winding it first into a tiny
ball, then unrolling it again.
He opened his hand slowly and easily, as though
fearful that the thing would vanish from under his


324 HIDDEN EYES
in the doctor's eyes as the leaping brain behind them
accepted this and rejected that, until a complete and
entire structure of logic was reared behind the man's
lined forehead.
The heavy face remained immobile, even for a
moment after the unquestionable conclusion smote
him with the crash of a trip-hammer.
He raised his eyes once more to the motto on his
wall, and there blazed in them a burning fire of
accomplishment.
“Think P.
The doctor laughed aloud harshly, almost hyster-
ically. It was too absurd—too unbelievable that he
should not instantly have known it all—
With surprising agility he leaped to his feet,
jerked open the door, and literally dashed across
the reception-room, followed by the startled eyes of
the girl in the outer office. .*
“To Max's-to Mr. Railey's" he flung over his
shoulder as he ran, bareheaded, into the corridor,
and scorning the elevators, leaped down the stairs
three at a time, his huge body jolting and shaking.
The office of the prosecuting attorney was not far
removed from the St. James Building, and unheed-
ing the stares of the people on the crowded street,


326 HIDDEN EYES
though the doctor's whirlwind entrance had not
really been surprising, and that it was the huge man's
regular custom to rush into the office, hatless, collar
open and eyes blazing like a madman's.
“I say, Lester,” he began, “what's the idea? You
dash in here like—like—” he cast about to find a
word.
The doctor, regaining his breath with difficulty,
pulled his chair against the desk.
“Now don't say a word,” he urged; “not one
word until I finish. I know who really did this bank
robbing!”
The young man raised his eyebrows slightly, and
a sudden expression of keen interest came into his
face. The piled-up work on his desk—unfinished
work—told its own story of an idle morning spent
by the young attorney, a morning full of puzzled
speculation and wonder.
He had expected to hear from the doctor before—
since the news of Thornton's arrest had reached him.
So he did not speak, but only nodded eagerly to
signify his attention.
The doctor gazed about him, then launched into
his story, emphasizing his remarks, and hammering


THE STRING TO IT 327
home each phrase with a clenched fist which beat on
the table.
The story bristled with scientific terms, bits of
Latin phraseology, medical jargon, and constant
mention of the names of Claparede, Charcot, Jung,
Munsterberg—
The telling seemed to sap even the huge man's
vitality, for, when he finished, he leaned back weakly
in his chair and fished for a cigarette in his sagging
coat-pocket. His hand trembled as he held a match
to it, trembled violently, and his eyes bored into the
face of the young attorney at his side.
“Well, Max?”
The attorney jerked suddenly erect, as though
startled by the question.
“If anybody on earth but you, Lester,” he began
slowly, “had come to me with such an idea—” he
stopped speaking an instant, then his fist crashed
on to the desk: “By the Lord, it sounds right!”
A great laugh of relief boomed from the doctor's
throat. Now he had no doubt. His hand shot out
for the telephone.
“Main—four, four, two, three.” He smiled slightly
while waiting for the connection.


THE STRING TO IT 331
nonchalant. He nodded to the attorney and shook
hands.
“What's up?” he questioned.
Railey shrugged his shoulders and greeted the
girl.
“Some idea of Lester's—I don't know myself—”
The doctor turned to Isabel, taking both her
hands. He led her to the door opening into the ad-
joining office.
“You’re to stay in here a moment, girly—now—
not a word—just leave it to me—and—” He opened
the door slightly, and the chief started belligerently
to his feet.
“Here now—” he began, but again the prosecut-
ing attorney cut in coldly. .
“I told you, Chief, that this was on my respon-
sibility,” he repeated, and the chief subsided into
his chair.
“Sit over here, Ralby”—the doctor indicated a
chair on one side of the table—“and you'd better
draw up closer, Chief,” he grunted, dropping into a
chair opposite Ralby and the young attorney. To the
girl in the corner the doctor only smiled. “You
stay put, Mae,” he chortled. “Your time's coming.”
The doctor spread his hands on the table before


332 HIDDEN EYES
him. He seemed to be very calm and cool under the
battery of eyes: the young attorney's eager, the
chief's scornful, and Ralby's mildly inquiring.
“Let’s begin at the beginning,” the doctor smiled
leisurely, “begin with a study of the phenomenon of
somnambulism.”
The chief of detectives sighed with relief and
smiled inwardly, resolving to allow the doctor to
say what he pleased and then squash him utterly by
simply producing a little bit of string on which there
were threaded several keys.


CHAPTER XXIV
PROVING THE PUDDING
“COMNAMBULISM,” Doctor Lester began
S slowly and heavily, “as the best modern school
of psychology has recognized and defined it, is not
always to be considered—”
And the doctor drifted into an exposition of the
theories of the psychologists concerning the phe-
nomenon of sleep-walking. He dwelt at length on
the various ideas advanced at different times, seem-
ing really to have but little interest in the subject,
for his voice dropped to a slow, drawling monotone
—drowsy and soothing.
The chief of detectives fidgeted now and then in
his chair, waiting only until the doctor should begin
to apply his theories to the case in hand, while
Ralby, to whom this was nothing new, lounged com-
fortably in his chair. Only the young attorney, el-
bows on table, listened interestedly.
The doctor's lecture became deathly tiresome; so
deadly monotonous was his unending flow of words
333


PROVING THE PUDDING 335
in his chair. His eyes, blazing strangely, were fixed
on the protruding eyes of Ralby which stared at the
crystal before him. Small beads of perspiration
broke on the doctor's forehead, and his face took on
a strange unwonted pallor.
Ralby's cheek muscles tensed; the veins of his
forehead stood out visibly; his body seemed taut.
Then he relaxed easily and naturally into his chair.
Very calmly then, but with a hand that shook, the
doctor lighted a cigarette.
The detective, who had been staring with open
mouth, seemed brought to sudden life by the doctor's
natural gesture, and he straightened in his chair.
The doctor turned to the young attorney.
“Entire hypnosis, Max—absolute—” he said
slowly.
The young man peered intently into the vacant
staring eyes of the man in the chair.
“Look,” the doctor offered.
He stepped to Ralby's side and touched the end of
a stumpy forefinger to the staring eyeball. The girl,
watching his movements, closed her eyes tightly,
and the chief leaned forward, expecting to hear a
cry of pain.
For all the reaction noted, the doctor might as
well have touched the eyeball of the small marble


336 HIDDEN EYES
bust of Gladstone which decorated the attorney's
table !
“Now, get Thornton,” demanded the doctor, and
the chief rose without speaking to obey.
Together with Isabel, Thornton stepped into the
room, behind them the detective Franklin. For a
moment both the man and the girl looked from one
face to another, seeing nothing peculiar or startling
in the room.
Franklin caught sight of Mae and immediately
made his way toward her. She rose to her feet as
he neared, and held out her hands to him. Very
gently then the detective, with a side glance at his
chief, drew the girl into the room from which he
had just come, and closed the door.
The eyes of Isabel and Thornton, following the
glances of the others, fell on Ralby, and Thornton
started at the sight of the figure in the chair, star-
ing intently. The girl gasped frightenedly.
The doctor raised his hand. “Just one more min-
ute now,” he muttered, “and I’ll—I’ll be through.”
He seemed suddenly very tired.
From his pocket he drew a bit of string—a bit of
silvered string, that looked as though it might have
originally bound up a box of chocolates.


PROVING THE PUDDING 337
“This is what started me.” He played with the
bit of string in his hand. “You’ll remember, Chief,
that a little piece of string held together the keys
you took from Thornton—a little piece of string that
looked like this. I found this piece on my desk.”
Utter bewilderment was written large on the face
of the chief of detectives, and the big doctor rum-
bled on heavily.
“It took me a long time—much too long,” he
grumbled, “to remember how it got there, but finally
I did. I borrowed a book from him the other day,”
—he jerked his head to indicate the unconscious
Ralby—“and this was in it; been using it for a
book-mark evidently.”
The doctor smiled reminiscently as he recalled
the feeling which had overcome him when first the
remembrance came to him.
“Now"—once more the doctor raised a short arm
—“now, you listen—”
Thornton's arm went about Isabel and drew her
closer to him. The chief stared wide-eyed, and the
young attorney lighted a cigarette nervously.
“Ralby—you hear me, don't you?”
The figure in the chair remained immobile.
“Yes.”


338 HIDDEN EYES
“Now tell me,” the doctor went on command-
ingly, “tell me just how you made Thornton get
into the vault of that bank.”
The statue-like figure of Ralby in the chair opened
its mouth. “I hypnotized him—I told him to go
there—I told him he would awaken when the door
of the vault swung open—”
There was no expression in the voice, not a shade
of tone; the words fell flat.
“How did you get the combinations?” The doc-
tor's voice rumbled the question, and the chief of
detective's cigar dropped from his mouth in amaze-
ment as he listened.
“I got them through Thornton. When the two
bank men were opening the vault one morning,
Thornton was there.”
Thornton started violently.
“I—” he began, but the doctor waved an impa-
tient hand.
“You mean you sent him there.”
“Yes.”
“How P”
“I hypnotized him and sent him there. I made
him see, and I had him read the combinations to me
as they were turned.”
Plain incredulity showed on the chief of detec-


340 HIDDEN EYES
face, and placed both hands on his temples, speak-
ing to him softly, soothingly. The staring eyes
closed, and Ralby lay in his chair as though asleep.
The doctor turned briefly to the chief.
“Where do you live?”
“Huh? Where do I–”
“Your house—what street?” The doctor was
growing impatient.
“Thirteen-o-five Laura,” answered the bewildered
head of the detective department.
The doctor turned to Ralby.
“Listen,” he ordered softly. “You’re standing on
the corner of Laura and Adams Streets—the corner
of Laura and Adams Streets.”
For an instant the doctor was silent, then:
“Where are you, Ralby?”
“On the corner of Laura and Adams Streets.”
“All right, come—we're walking up the street—
now we're passing Hemming Park and the St. James
Building—now the power-house at First Street—
now we stop—we are standing before number thir-
teen-o-five on Laura Street—we are going in-you
are inside, Ralby—inside of the house—what do
jou see?”
Ralby spoke slowly:
“A large room.”


342 HIDDEN EYES
“You got all your combinations in the same way?”
“Yes.”
“Why did you want Thornton caught?” The doc-
tor's voice grew hard on the question.
“He told me he was engaged to Isabel, and I
wanted—”
“Stop!” the doctor cried sharply, and the voice
trailed off on the unfinished sentence.
Isabel hid her face on Thornton's shoulder with a
choking sob, and his arms held her protectively.
The doctor turned at the sound.
“Ask him,” stammered the chief, “ask him what
he did with the money he got.”
The doctor nodded and turned again.
“Where is the money you stole?”
The voice, still deadly monotonous, answered: “I
stole no money.”
A queer expression flitted across the doctor's face,
and he chuckled softly, remembering a contention
of Charcot, that a subject answered directly—and
literally.
“Where is the money Thornton brought to you?”
he questioned.
“In my room. In my trunk.”
The doctor leaned back in his chair, his hands
toying with the crystal.


PROVING THE PUDDING 343
“Well?” he turned to the young attorney.
Railey drew a deep breath.
“God, man, it is marvelous! I'm satisfied—are
you?” he asked the chief.
The chief had not recovered sufficiently to speak
his thoughts, but he nodded in unquestionable ac-
quiescence.
The doctor turned his heavy head toward Thorn-
ton and Isabel, and fumbled clumsily at his wide-
open collar.
“My car's down-stairs,” he grumbled; “take it—
go on—” He turned as Thornton would have
spoken; then boomed in a thunder of irritability:
“What! Not gone yet? Get out! Get out!”
Together Thornton and the girl passed through
the doorway.
“Now awaken!” The doctor snapped the com-
mand at the man in the chair.
Ralby moved tentatively, passed a hand dazedly
over his eyes, and then, suddenly realizing what had
transpired, he leaped to his feet.
“My God, I–”
The heavy hand of the chief of detectives fell on
his shoulder.
“Sa-a-ay,”—the chief turned an apologetic face
to the big doctor, but averted his eyes in an embar-


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