THE
MYSTERY IN
THE RITSMORE



OHIO STATE
UNIVERSITY
LIBRARIES








OHIO STATE
UNIVERSITY
LIBRARIES








mi
THE MYSTERY IN THE RITSMORE




139 William Sobnston
THE MYSTERY in THE RITSMOBE
THE APARTMENT NEXT D003
THE HOUSE OF WHISPEBS
LIMPY
THE BOY W110 FELT NEGLECTED
THE YELLOW LETTER.



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1. ' "*1 ‘
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“ I found it,” he said slowly, “in the apartment of—Anne
Blair.” FRONTISPIECE. See page 272.


THE MYSTERY IN
THE RITSMORE
BY
WILLIAM JOHNSTON
WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY
HAROLD JAMES CUE








BOSTON
LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY
.1920



Copyright, 1920,
BY LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY.
A ll rights reserved
Published June, 1920
THE COLONIAL PRESS
C- H. SIMONDS CO., BOSTON, U. S. A.


T0
HATTIE BELLE
wno HELPS
THIS BOOK IS AFFECTIONATELY
DEDICATED





CHAPTER
I.
II.
III.
IV.
V.
VI.
VII.
VIII.
IX.
XI.
XII.
XIII.
XIV.
XV.
XVI.
XVII.
CONTENTS
WHAT HAPPENED IN THE HOTEL
ENTER THE POLICE
A HINT FROM HARRISON HARDY
THE WONDERFUL HUGH SMITH
POOR LITTLE RUTHINA DUSHANE
MIss DUsHANE's FLIGHT
THE JOKE ON CASPAR DIETz
A SHOCK FOR HARRISON HARDY
THE MISSING Two MILLIONS
A GHOST AT THE FEAST
WHOM DID HE MEAN?
A DIFFERENCE 0F OPINION .
IN THE EARLY MORNING
IN THE ENEMY's HANDS
SOME NEW ENIGMAS
SMITH SHows HIS HAND
jOHN RUSH ASKS A QUESTION


PAGE
18
36
53
73
91
109
127
I42
163
I81
I99
214
232
248
26I
277







LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
“ I found it,” he said slowly, “in the apart-
ment of — Anne Blair ” . . Frontispiece
“ They have identified that girl that was
murdered last night,” he said as he sat
down . . . . . . PAGE 39
“ She came to my apartment, making sure
that her entrance was unobserved ” . “ 150
Her cap had been lost in the scrimmage and
her long black hair had come tumbling
about her face .
H
236







THE MYSTERY IN
THE RITSMORE
CHAPTER I
WHAT HAPPENED IN THE HOTEL
IN Tragedy’s van almost invariably comes pre-
monition. Betty Le Baron, key in hand, paused
timorously at the door and a tremor ran through
her slender frame. Always, as far back as she
could remember, she had felt a great aversion tO
entering a house when she knew all the other
occupants were absent, and the mere prospect
of going alone into an unlighted room invariably
had filled her With nervous dread. Under such
circumstances her vivid imagination persisted in
conjuring up all manner of weird and dreadful
things that might confront her when she opened
the door. Even at home, in the old mansion
where she had lived since birth,where every nook
and corner was replete with friendly memories


2 THE MYSTERY IN THE RITSMORE
and only the most pleasant of recollections, she
never had been quite able to conquer this feel-
ing, even though she was rather ashamed of
acknowledging it, and here,—here in a strange
hotel, in a city which she was visiting for the
first time, with her husband unexpectedly and
mysteriously absent, she found her indefinable
fears more vivid, vastly intensified. She was
positive that it would be beyond her strength and
courage to unlock and push open the door.
More strongly than ever before she experienced
a premonition of evil. She 'just knew that there
would be something behind that closed door that
would confront and terrify her, something strange
and awful.
If only Bob were with her!
How lonely it seemed without him. It was
almost the first minute in the three days of their
honeymoon that they had been parted. Where
could he have gone? All through dinner that
evening it had seemed to her that he was wor-
ried and distraught about something. He had
not seemed in the least like his good-natured,
optimistic self. Earlier in the day he had sug-
gested that they go to the theatre that evening


WHAT HAPPENED IN THE HOTEL 3

but at dinner he seemed to have forgotten all
about it. What could have happened to disturb
him? She recalled that as she was dressing for
dinner he had gone down into the lobby of the
Ritsmore on some trivial errand. When he re-
turned he had spoken of having met an old col-
lege friend, John Rush. She recalled that he had
spoken of Rush being employed as private secre-
tary by Harrison Hardy, a multimillionaire, who
lived in the hotel. Was Rush, she wondered, in
any way connected with her husband’s unex-
plained absence? HOW she wished that she had
asked Bob more questions about his plans!
As she lingered there timorously before the
unopened door she went over in her mind just
what had happened as they left the table. Bob
as usual had accompanied her to the elevator.
“I’m going to ask you to excuse me for a
little While,” he had said.
“Aren’t you coming up with me? ” she had ex-
claimed in astonishment.
“I’m sorry,” he had apologized, “I’ve some
business to attend to. It will not take me long.
Good-by.”
As she recalled the abrupt conversation it came


4 THE MYSTERY IN THE RITSMORE
to her that he had seemed much embarrassed
and confused. It really looked as if he had
hurried away for fear that she might question
him. Certainly his conduct had been peculiar,
yet how foolish it was for her to be thinking such
things about him. Every man had business of
some sort to attend to and no wife, not even a
three-days’ bride, could expect to keep a man
constantly at her side. And what a little coward
she was to be standing there trembling like a
ninny at the door of their rooms.
Resolutely she thrust the key in the lock and
flung open the door. A little gasp escaped her
at the darkness within and it required a great
effort of will to put out her hand in search of the
button that turned on the lights. As the elec-
tricity flooded the place she gave a quick sigh of
relief and with returning courage explored the
sitting room before her and the bedroom beyond,
and finding no one there felt more composed and
reassured.
Casting about for something to do to occupy
her until her husband’s return she seated herself
to write to her mother, but even in the midst of
her task she felt ill at ease. The lonesomeness


WHAT HAPPENED IN THE HOTEL 5
appalled her and she could not shake Off a sense
of fearful expectation. She was weighed down
with black dreads and horrors that no effort of
her will could dispel. She managed to finish her
letter, and picking up a magazine, tried to forget
her fears in reading but they would not vanish.
In desperation she decided to go downstairs
again and listen to the music. It would be lonely
enough sitting down there without a companion
but anything would be better than staying all by
herself in these fearsome rooms. Remembering
the effort it had been to unlock the door, she de-
cided now to leave the lights all turned on and
the door ajar. Her jewels were safe in her hand
bag and besides it was unlikely that any one
would venture into the lighted rooms.
In the lounge below she succeeded in finding
an unoccupied chair that permitted a view of the
elevators so that she could keep a lookout for her
husband’s return, and she settled herself to the
pastime of listening to the orchestra and watch-
ing the people about her. It seemed to her that
she sat there for hours and hours and still there
was no Sign of her husband. Presently the music
ceased and the audience dispersed. She became


6 THE MYSTERY IN THE RITSMORE
troubled and self-conscious as she discovered that
she was the only unescorted woman left. What
if Bob had returned and had slipped into the
elevators without her seeing him! He might
even now be up in their rooms, wondering what
had become of her. She must go up at once.
This time, with the door ajar as she had left
it and the lights ablaze, she was not so fearful
of entering. Somewhat to her relief, but also to
her dismay, she found that her husband had not
yetcome in. What could be keeping him? Once
more she tried to read but each minute that
passed in the solitude became more terrible.
She found herself filled with unutterable fears of
something intangible yet terrible. If she sat still
another minute she knew that she would have to
scream. Perhaps in activity she might find re-
lief from her unbearable apprehensions.
A lace negligee, becomingly lined with yellow
silk, one of the treasures of her trousseau that
she had not yet displayed, was in her trunk. She
decided to put it on and surprise Bob when he
came in. Retiring to the bedroom she brought
it forth and was just slipping ofi her gown when
she heard her husband entering the sitting room.


WHAT HAPPENED IN THE HOTEL 7


“ Come in for a moment anyhow,” she heard
him say. “ I want you to meet Mrs. Le Baron.
Betty, dear, where are you? ”
“ Just a minute. I’m changing my gown,” she
called out, hastily donning the negligee.
“ I’ve brought in my old friend, Jack Rush,"
her husband informed her. “ Don’t be long.”
“ I won’t,” she replied.
Her toilet completed she picked up the gown
she had discarded and opened the door of the
clothespress to hang it up. What happened then
was infinitely more terrifying, more ghastly,
more horrible than anything her wildest imagin-
ings ever had conjectured. The sight that met
her eyes, the thing that tumbled out at her feet
seemed incredible, impossible, unbelievable.
Sick with fear she gazed dazedly for a moment
at the shocking spectacle before her and then
burst into shrill, soul-wracking shrieks.
At the sound of her cries her husband and his
guest sprang up and rushed to the bedroom. In
the doorway they stopped horror-stricken at the
sight before them. There stood Betty Le Baron
in her negligee, the gown she had just taken off
still clutched in her hand, her face convulsed,


8 THE MYSTERY IN THE RITSMORE
staring wildly at the floor before her where lay
a body,—the body of a young and beautiful
woman in evening dress, with a knife thrust
through her heart, a trickle of blood reddening
the white of her corsage. The girl lay face up-
ward, her arms and limbs sprawling grotesquely,
as if she might have fallen out backwards from
the clothespress when the door was opened sud-
denly.
As the two men entered Mrs. Le Baron ceased
her shrieks and pointing wildly at the body be-
fore her, began to moan hysterically:
“ She fell right out. She fell right out at my
feet.”
Le Baron stood there dumbly, his face ashen
white, staring at the body before him as if fas-
cinated by its ghastly appearance, rooted in his
tracks, and apparently too stupefied with hor-
ror to make any effort to calm his terrorized
bfide
“ Who is she? What’s happened? " asked
Rush,-—the first to recover himself.
He looked from one to the other expectantly
but neither husband nor wife gave the slightest
heed to his question. The crescendo in Mrs.


WHAT HAPPENED IN THE HOTEL 9
Le Baron’s cries warned him that she was on the
verge of once more breaking out into shrieks,
and as her husband seemed too stupefied by the
tragedy to be of any aid to her, he took Mrs.
Le Baron by the arm and patting her soothingly
led her to the bed, where she collapsed, her whole
body shaking with convulsive tremors as she con-
tinued to sob in fright. J
Le Baron, still too dazed for coherent action,
had tottered to a chair and was sitting there,
gazing with horror—stricken eyes at the body on
the floor.
Bewildered though John Rush was by the un-
expected happenings,—coming to call on a happy
bride and being suddenly confronted by an in—
explicable tragedy—he managed to keep his wits
about him. Thinking that life might not yet be
entirely extinct he bent over the body to search
for a heartbeat. As he stooped to feel for the
pulse an exclamation of admiration escaped him.
Even in death the girl that lay there was of strik-
ing beauty. Her great masses of blonde hair
were carefully coiffured. Her skin was pink and
healthful and her big blue eyes, Still open, had in
them a curious fixed expression, not of fear, but


10 THE MYSTERY IN THE RITSMORE
rather of grim determination. From her un-
usually high cheek bones Rush concluded that
the girl was probably a foreigner, more than
likely a Russian or a Swede.
Though the flesh was still warm it was quickly
evident to him that life had entirely vanished.
As Rush regretfully decided that this was so, he
began vainly to conjecture as to what could have
happened. What possible circumstances could
have brought it about that this terrible tragedy
should have taken place in his friend’s rooms in
the Ritsmore? Who was the girl? How had
she come to be there in the apartment? What
had happened to her? Had somebody killed her
and secreted her body in the clothespress? Had
she hid herself there and deliberately plunged
the knife into her own heart? What motive
could have driven a girl of this sort to kill her-
self?
The longer he looked at the face before him
the more strongly he became convinced that
whatever had happened it could not possibly be
a case of suicide. The girl was not the sort to
do such a thing. Everything about her be-
tokened wealth and culture. In her face and


WHAT HAPPENED IN THE HOTEL 11
eyes there was no indication of mental weakness
or of fanaticism. Evidently she had been a
healthy, beautiful young woman of means, the
last person in the world to attempt self-destruc-
tion.
But if she had not killed herself, who had
killed her?
The body was still warm when they found it.
Le Baron had come into the room with him.
Mrs. Le Baron had been there alone in the apart-
ment. It seemed wholly inconceivable that
either of them could be involved in such a crime,
yet how could the murder—if it were a mur-
der—have taken place in these two rooms with-
out Mrs. Le Baron’s knowledge?
He turned to look at his friend’s bride won-
deringly, as she lay, still sobbing hysterically, on
the bed. She looked to have hardly more than a
child’s strength in the hand and arm that the
loose sleeve of the negligee displayed. It was
incredible that her tiny hand had driven a knife
deep into another woman’s heart. All her ac-
tions, too, had been those of shockand surprise,
certainly not of guilt. He was certain that she
could have had no part in the crime.


12 THE MYSTERY IN THE RITSMORE
Perplexedly he directed his eyes to Le Baron,
studying him intently as he recalled how ashen
his friend’s face had become at the sight of the
woman’s body on the floor. Could it be that Le
Baron had known this woman in the past and
that she had met this dreadful fate because she
had reappeared to threaten him in his new-found
happiness? No, he decided as he looked at him,
Le Baron had not done it either. Bob was
horror-stricken at the tragedy that had marred
his honeymoon, as well he might be, but in his
manner there was no evidence of guilt. Besides
that Rush had known Bob Le Baron nearly fif-
teen years. He was one of the kindest-hearted,
most easy-going chaps imaginable, overfond of
pleasure perhaps, but certainly the last person in
the world to take another’s life. But if neither
of the Le Barons had killed this woman, who
had? The harder he tried to find a solution of
the mystery the more involved and impossible it
became.
“What happened? Tell me quickly before
the police get here.”
A woman’s voice in the doorway behind him
made Rush turn quickly. A well-groomed at-


WHAT HAPPENED IN THE HOTEL l 3
tractive girl stood there, her great dark eyes
looking questioningly at the little group, seem-
ingly taking in every detail of the amazing
tableau.
“ The police! " gasped Le Baron, stirred from
his lethargy.
“ The police,” moaned Mrs. Le Baron from the
bed, a new look of terror sweeping over her tear-
stained face.
“Of course, the police,” said the newcomer
calmly, entering the room uninvited and bend-
ing over to examine the body.
isn’t it? ”
“I don’t know,” said Le Baron thickly. “I
don’t know anything about it.”
“ She fell right out,” sobbed his bride, pointing
wildly t0 the clothespress door.
“ It’s murder,
The young woman turned inquiringly to Rush.
“Apparently that is just what must have hap-
pened,” he said, explaining briefly all he knew
about the matter. “ But who the woman is,” he
added, “ I have not the slightest idea.
saw her before.”
“‘I don’t know. I never laid eyes on her be-
That’s God’s truth,” cried Le Baron.
I never
fore.


l4. THE MYSTERY IN THE RITSMORE
“Did you know her?” the girl asked Mrs.
Le Baron.
“ She fell right out,” she sobbed again and her
hysteria showed how useless it would be to ques-
tion her further in her present condition.
“ Know them?” With a nod the girl indi-
cated the Le Barons, neither of whom seemed to
give her the slightest attention the moment she
ceased questioning them. Mrs. Le Baron con-
tinued to lie moaning on the bed and her husband
to stare with horrified gaze on the body.
“I’ve known Bob Le Baron for years,” Rush
explained. “We were college mates. He had
just brought me up to his rooms to meet his
bride. They were married only three days ago.”
“ They didn’t do it,” announced the girl with
conviction, “ either of them.”
“ Of course not,” Rush assented warmly.
“ But the problem is,” said the girl thought-
fully, “ who else could have done it? ”
Interestedly Rush watched her as she began
making a minute survey of the room. Her face
seemed vaguely familiar. He was sure that he
had 'seen her before. From her manner and
language he was certain that she was not one of


WHAT HAPPENED IN THE HOTEL 15


the Ritsmore’s employees, yet she set about her
investigation with a calmness that indicated some
right to be there. She thoughtfully studied the
clothespress and the position of the body in rela-
tion to it. She tested both the windows in the
bedroom and seemed pleased at finding them
locked.
“ Mrs. Le Baron is telling the truth,” she an-
nounced at length. “ She knew nothing about
the body being in the closet when she opened
the door and it was a terrible shock to her. It is
apparent that the woman, dead or dying from the
knife-thrust, was shut in there because sudden
concealment was necessary.”
“ But who shut her in? ” asked Rush.
“ The murderer, of course.”
“ But,” he cried perplexedly, “ who could that
have been? ”
The girl pointed significantly to the handle of
the knife that still protruded from the wound.
It was a cheap affair with a wooden handle.
“ It’s the kind of a knife a kitchen helper or a
waiter ”—she hesitated—“ or some one posing
as a waiter might easily pick up in the hotel
kitchen.”


16 THE MYSTERY IN THE RITSMORE
Turning from the body she once more made a
close survey of the closet, as if in search of new
clues.
“ Look,” she exclaimed, pointing to what at
first glance appeared to be a tiny black smudge
on the white woodwork of the door.
Rush came closer and bent to examine the
spot at which she was pointing. To his surprise
he found that it was a small black cross such as
might have been made with a soft pencil.
“ Pooh, that’s nothing,” he said. “ It’s prob-
ably just a mark left there by a carpenter.”
“ Perhaps,” said the girl doubtfully. “ It’s
strange though that it should mark the place
where the body was found. And now I’d sug-
gest that you notify the office so that they may
call in the police.”
Rush turned to the telephone beside the bed
to do her bidding and told the astounding news
to a horrified management. As he hung up the
’phone he faced about to speak once more to his
fellow investigator but she had vanished from
the room. He ran out through the sitting room
and looked up and down the corridor but there
was no trace of her. She had disappeared as


WHAT HAPPENED IN THE- HOTEL 17


mysteriously as She had arrived, leaving him
much puzzled.
Who was this girl whose face was so familiar?
What was her interest in this unusual tragedy
in which his friends were involved?
And one more question kept forcing itself upon
him insistently,—Why was she so positive that
neither of the Le Barons was guilty?
Did she know who the murderer was?


CHAPTER II
ENTER THE POLICE
SELDOM indeed are calls for the manager of a
hotel answered as swiftly as was Mr. Rush’s. It
hardly seemed more than a minute after he had
hung up the ’phone before there burst into the
room Mr. Edgar, the manager of the Ritsmore,
his assistant and Callahan, the house detective.
“ My, my,” cried Mr. Edgar, “ it is terrible to
have a thing like this happen in the Ritsmore.
It will ruin the hotel.”
“It’s terrible to happen anywhere,” said Rush
sarcastically.
Paying little heed to the body on the floor and
to the other occupants of the room the hotel peo-
ple began at once debating the possibility of
keeping the whole matter secret.
“ Can’t be done,” said Callahan. “ It’s a cor-
oner’s case. The woman’s dead. Even if we
hushed the police the papers would get it that
way. Who is the woman? ”


ENTER THE POLICE 19
He turned inquiringly to Rush and the Le
Barons.
“ None of us ever saw her before," Rush
hastened to explain. “ The body fell out of the
clothespress as Mrs. Le Baron went to hang up
her gown.”
“ Do either of you know her? ” Callahan
turned to Mr. Edgar and his aide.
“ I never saw her before,” said the manager.
“ Nor I,” said his assistant, “but she must
have been a guest in the hotel. How else could
she have got up here without a hat and coat? ”
“ Perhaps she was merely dining here,” sug-
gested Edgar, “ and slipped in here alone to kill
herself.”
“ It looks more like murder,” said the house
detective, “and the sooner the police have the
case the better.”
“I suppose so,” said Mr. Edgar, as he re
luctantly gave orders to have Police Headquar-
ters notified.
As the hotel people discussed the tragedy the
Le Barons had gradually become more composed
and it was well for them that they had, for in a
very few minutes Inspector Alexander arrived


20 THE MYSTERY IN THE RITSMORE
with two of his men and at once began grilling
every one who knew anything about the case?
Inspector Alexander was of a type more 0 ten
found following other professions than that of
the police. His thin face was that of a relent-
less ascetic, with thin cruel lips. In his deep-
set gray eyes was not the slightest suggestion
of humor or kindliness. He was the sort of man
to whom duty is God and accomplishment gospel.
A murder had been committed. It was his one
object in life now to find the murderer. He lis-
tened to the manager’s statement of what had
occurred, making no comment until he had fin-
ished.
“And when you arrived, how many persons
were there in these rooms? ”
“ These three,” said Mr. Edgar, pointing to the
Le Barons and Rush.
Rush was the first one the Inspector ques-
tioned and he got off the easiest for hisconnec-
tion with the case was obviously of the most
casual sort. He had known Mr. Le Baron for
years but had not seen him for a long time until
just before dinner, when he had met him in the
lobby. They had had a drink together and


ENTER THE POLICE 21
Le Baron had explained that he was in the hotel
on his honeymoon. After leaving Le Baron he
had dined with his employer, Harrison Hardy, in
the café. Mr. Hardy had gone to the opera and
he had gone out for a walk. Returning to the
hotel in the elevator he had run into Le Baron
again and his friend had invited him to come to
their rooms and meet Mrs. Le Baron. When he
had heard her screams he had rushed into the
bedroom with Le Baron.
“And that’s all you know about it? ”
“ That’s all,” he answered quickly.
Yet, as the Inspector turned from him to Le
Baron, his conscience bothered him a little.
There were two things he had not told. He
tried to console himself by thinking that they
had nothing to do with the murder, but he felt
vaguely troubled about them both. He recalled
that while he was standing talking with Le Baron
in the lobby a few hours before a bell boy had
approached.
“ Mr. Robert Le Baron?” he had asked.
“ Here,” said Le Baron.
The boy had handed him a note and departed.
Seemingly surprised at receiving the note, Le


ENTER THE POLICE 23
“ Not right away,” he said after a pause.
“ What did you do? ”
This question‘for some reason seemed to agi-
tate him greatly. His face once more became
deadly White and to Rush, who was watching
him curiously, it seemed that he was struggling
for self-control. _
“ I went out.”
There was nothing in the Inspector’s expres-
sion to tell what effect this answer had on him
but to Rush came the sudden conviction that his
friend was lying, was endeavoring to conceal
something. He recalled vividly that a few min-
utes before when he had met Le Baron in the
elevator he was hatless. Here he was making a
definite statement that he had gone out, when it
was wholly incredible that he should have left
the hotel bareheaded. What was it that he was
trying to keep back? Breathlessly Rush listened.
“ You went out—with your wife? ”
“No,” stammered Le Baron miserably. “I
went alone.”
“ Where? ”
As the Inspector’s question was flung staccato
at him, Le Baron became more and more em-


24 THE MYSTERY IN THE RITSMORE
barrassed and confused. He turned uneasily to-
ward his wife and made no answer.
“ Where did you go? ” the Inspector repeated
demandingly.
“I can’t tell you that,” Le Baron answered
with sudden decision, his face hardening de-
fiantly. “I won’t tell you. It has nothing to
do with this murder. It’s none of your busi-
ness.”
“ Very well,” said Inspector Alexander, nod-
ding his head in a satisfied way as if Le Baron’s
reticence about his actions already had convicted
him. “ Now, Mrs. Le Baron? ”
“ I dined with my husband."
“And then? ”
“ He said he had some business to attend to,
that he had to go out.”
“ What business? ”
“ He didn’t tell me.”
“ Nor where he was going? "
“ No."
“And what did you do then? ”
“ He escorted me to the elevator and I came
on upstairs to our rooms.”
“Alone?”


ENTER THE POLICE 2 5
“ Of course I was alone.”
“When you entered these rooms was there
any one here? ”
“ I saw no one.”
“And while your husband was absent you saw
no one enter? ”
“ NO, I saw no one.”
“And all the time your husband was absent
you remained here—in these rooms? ”
“ Yes—that is—no.”
At this unexpected answer from his Wife Le
Baron gave a start and began watching her
nervously. Apparently he had supposed, as had
Rush, that she had been there all the time.
“ You did not remain here in these rooms after
your husband left you?”
“ No, I got lonely and afraid. I went down-
stairs again to listen to the music and to wait for
my husband.”
“ You say you were afraid—afraid of what? ”
“ I don’t know,” she answered with a pathetic
little shudder, “ just afraid.”
“ When did you go downstairs?”
“ I don’t know; a few minutes after my hus-
band went out."


26 THE MYSTERY IN THE RITSMORE
“And then? "
“ I sat in the lounge until the music stopped
and then I came upstairs again.”
“ Was there any one in the rooms when you
came in the second time? ”
“ I didn’t see any one.”
“ Was everything in the rooms just as you had
left it? ”
“Apparently so.”
“Arid the door was locked?”
“ N o.”
“What’s that? ” asked the Inspector sharply.
“ The door wasn’t locked? Do I understand you
to say that when you came upstairs the second
time you found the door unlocked? ”
“I left it that way. I left it ajar and the
lights lit.”
“ Why did you do that?”
“ I thought my husband might return while I
was downstairs and I had the key and—and—
I was afraid of coming into a dark room
alone."
As the Inspector’s questioning proceeded Rush
began to feel troubled. He had not anticipated
that his friends would have any difficulty in con-


ENTER THE POLICE 27
vincing the police of their innocence, yet these
developments looked bad for them. The fact
that Le Baron was mysteriously absent and was
firm in his refusal not to tell Where he had been
coupled with his wife’s reiteration of her in-
explicable fear gave a sinister look to the doings
of both of them.
“ You are sure,” the Inspector went on, “ that
this second time you came in you heard no noise,
you saw no one, that everything was just as you
left it? ”
“I suppose she,” Mrs. Le Baron nervously
pointed to the girl’s body on the bedroom
floor, “ must have been there in the clothes-
press.” '
“ Now tell us just What you did this second
time you entered the room? ” >
“ I tried to read and couldn’t,” she began,
speaking slowly and thoughtfully as if she were
making a sincere effort to recall everything in
detail, just as it had happened. “I put my
magazine down on the table in the sitting room.
I came into the bedroom and opened up my trunk
to get my yellow negligee. I had just taken off
my gown when I heard my husband come in.


28 THE MYSTERY IN THE RITSMORE
He had some one with him. I hurried into my
negligee and went to hang up my gown and—

and
The recurrence of the spectacle she had wit-
nessed when she opened the closet door came so
vividly to her that once more she gave way to a
hysterical outburst. Bursting into a wild scream
she began monotonously repeating the phrase,
“ She fell right out. She fell right out in front
of me.”
This time Le Baron went to his wife’s aid, and
casting an indignant glance at the Inspector, led
Mrs. Le Baron gently to the side of the bed
where he strove to calm her.
“The next thing,” said Inspector Alexander,
entirely unmoved by the little bride’s plight, “is
to determine the identity of the victim. Some-
body in the hotel must know her. Call up the
clerks from the desk.”
One by one the men at the desk were called
into the room. To the amazement of everybody
none of them recognized the girl, each insisting
that he never had seen her before.
“Call in the floor clerks, the chambermaids,
and the porters and bell boys,” directed Alex-


ENTER THE POLICE 29
ander savagely. “We’ve got to find out who
she is.”
For half an hour a long line of heterogeneous
employees filed through the room, looking with
unconcealed curiosity at the body,—men and
women of all nationalities, Swedes, Finns, Irish,
Greek, German, French, some of them gorgeously
appareled in the hotel livery, others of humbler
occupation, in their working clothes, but none of
them manifesting at the sight of the dead girl
any sign of recognition or of anything more than
morbid curiosity. Plainly both the hotel people
and the police were much puzzled that none of
the numerous employees recognized her.
“ It’s just barely possible,” suggested the as-
sistant manager, “that she may not have been
one of our guests. She may have been dining
downstairs and have been lured up here to her-
death.”
“ Call up the waiters.”
“ Send for Meyer,” directed Mr. Edgar, ever
mindful Of the service in the hotel, “and have
him tell the captains to send their men, both
waiters and bus-boys up, four at a time so as not
to interrupt service in the supper rooms.”


30 THE MYSTERY IN THE RITSMORE
Presently the head waiter arrived, as cool and
as politely servile as though he had been sum-
moned to discuss the details of a dinner, a tall,
square-shouldered Swiss, who looked as if at
some time he might have seen military service.
“ Do you know this woman?” the Inspector
asked him bluntly.
Calmly Meyer studied the face before him and
then, before replying, looked questioningly at his
employer.
“Answer the Inspector’s questions,” directed
Mr. Edgar.
“ Beg pardon, sir,” he said, “ but I doubt if she
is one of our guests. I never have seen her, sir,
no, sir, not in the dining room.”
“ Call up the waiters,” commanded Alexander,
a trifle impatiently.
As the men from the supper rooms, immacu-
late in their jackets, in squads of four filed in and
out of the room, Meyer remained, taking his
stand directly in front of the door of the closet
from which the body had fallen. He seemed to
be keenly interested in seeing whether any of the
men could solve the mystery of the girl’s identity,
but squad after squad went in and out without


ENTER THE POLICE 31
having contributed anything to the solution of
the riddle.
To Rush, an equally interested spectator of the
scene, there came the recollection of a remark
made by the unidentified visitor they had had a
few minutes before about the knife being of the
sort that a waiter—or some one posing as a
_ waiter—would have used. As he watched these
serving men he studied the face of each care-
fully, hoping to read there some sign of nervous-
ness or guilt. From time to time, too, he turned
to look at the head waiter, who though he had
seemed cool and self-possessed enough when he
first entered the room seemed to have lost some-
thing of his poise as the inquiry proceeded. In
his hands now he held a handkerchief which he
occasionally raised to his lips. It looked to Rush
as if the man were becoming more and more ill
at ease. He kept twisting his hands and the
handkerchief about, sometimes holding them be-
hind his back, at other times moving them rest-
lessly in front of him.
The waiters came and went. Not one of them
had recognized the girl.
“Are there any other employees who would


32 THE MYSTERY IN THE RITSMORE
see guests of the hotel either in their rooms or in
the dining room? ” asked the Inspector.
“ No,” said Mr. Edgar. “ We have had them
all in here, all except the cooks and the kitchen
helpers. They never see the guests.”
“No need bringing them up,” said the In-
spector.
“ Can the head waiter go?” asked the man-
ager. “The after-theatre rush will be beginning.
He will be needed downstairs.”
The Inspector nodded and Meyer departed,
but Mr. Edgar’s suggestion of the hour had
brought to John Rush a realization of the fact
that he could not linger here longer, much as he
desired to learn the dénouement. Harrison
Hardy had a habit of dictating letters after he
came in from the theatre or opera, insisting that
his mind always was clearer when the quiet of
midnight had come. It was time now for him to
be home and he would be expecting Rush in his
rooms.
“If there is nothing further you want to ask
me, Inspector,” he said, “ may I be excused? I’ll
be right here in the hotel, in Mr. Hardy’s apart-
ments, if you should want me for anything.”


ENTER THE POLICE 33
“ That’s all right. Go ahead,” said the In-
spector.
Rush paused for a moment to shake hands
with Le Baron and utter a word of cheer to him,
and then started out, stopping at the door for one
last glance at the girl lying dead there, puzzled
beyond measure at the fact that nobody seemed
ever to have seen her before. As he did so his
eye traveled from the body to the door before
which it lay and it was with difficulty he re-
pressed a cry of astonishment.
The little black cross that had marred the
white woodwork—the mark to which Miss Un-
known had directed his attention—had vanished
completely.
It was on his lips to tell the Inspector of this
strange occurrence but quickly he remembered
that such a step would involve mention of the
mysterious intruder. What was the use of bring-
ing her into the case? They would brutally
question her as they had Mrs. Le Baron. If she
was in any way connected with the mystery it
was up to the police to find it out. Certainly
he was not going to betray the fact that she
had been in the room after the tragedy,


34 THE MYSTERY IN THE RITSMORE
and he doubted if the Le Barons, in their
dazed condition, even remembered the occur-
rence.
He found that his employer had just come in
and as he seated himself to take Mr. Hardy’s dic-
tation he told him briefly about the tragedy in
the hotel. Mr. Hardy evinced little interest in
the matter.
“ Probably some fool woman murdered for her
jewelry,” he commented. “ It’s a wonder more
of them aren’t held up and robbed with the silly
display they make of costly gems before servants
they know nothing about. It’s a rotten lot they
have for servants in the hotels these days, any-
how. They’re all robbers.”
“ I expect you are right,” said Rush politely,
but down in his heart he'did not think so at
all. As he wrote his notes and later transcribed
them, and for hours afterward that night, he
kept pondering over the tragedy, becoming
all the while more and more convinced that
it was far more than a mere murder for
theft.
Le Baron’s puzzling reticence, the mark on the
door, Miss Unknown’s interest in the case, the


ENTER THE POLICE 35
strange position in which the body was found
and the amazing fact that nobody knew the vic-
tim all led him into a complicated maze from
which he could find no way out.


CHAPTER 111_
A HINT FROM HARRISON HARDY
“ THAT friend of yours is in a pretty pickle,”
said the clerk at the desk to Rush the next morn-
ing.
“ Whom do you mean—Mr. Le Baron? ”
“ Of course."
“ He hasn’t been arrested, has he? ”
“Not yet, but he might as well be. \He is
what they call under surveillance. They kept
one of the detectives up in their apartment all
night.”
“ Has the body been identified yet? ”
“ Sure. The day chambermaid recognized the
woman at once.”
“ Who was she? ”
“ Name’s Ordinoff—Miss Olga Ordinoff.”
“Strange no one recognized her last night.
They had all the hotel employees up to see the
body last night.”
“ That’s easily explained. She checked in


A HINT FROM HARRISON HARDY 37
from Philadelphia just after five o’clock. She
wore a veil when she was at the desk. She evi-
dently hadn’t appeared in the dining room or
Meyer would have recalled her. He has 3. won-
derful memory for faces.”
“ Ordinofi ” repeated Rush; “ that’s a
Russian name, isn’t it? ”
“ Sounds like it, but she registered from Phila-
delphia. I understand the police there are try-
ing to look her up. She had the suite right
across the hall from the Le Barons.”

“ That’s strange, isn’t it? ”
“ You bet it’s strange. It’s going to be some
job finding out in which of the rooms she was
killed, her own or Le Baron’s.”
As Rush left the desk and went on to the
breakfast room his mind was far more perturbed
by what the clerk had told him than he had
shown. Olga Ordinofi'. ARussian! With dis-
may he remembered that only the evening be-
fore, as he had chatted with his friend, Le Baron
had mentioned that he recently had been in
Russia selling railway supplies for his firm. The
fact that the murdered woman was a Russian
certainly did not improve Le Baron’s afiairs. If


38 THE MYSTERY IN THE RITSMORE
the police learned of his recent visit to that coun-
try they would be positive that he was the girl’s
assassin. Could it be possible, Rush wondered,
that Le Baron was involved with the woman?
He always had had a strong liking for a pretty
face. Perhaps he might have met this Miss Or-
dinofi there and paid her some attention. It was
not beyond reason that she might have become
infatuated with him and followed him to America.
What if she had learned of his marriage and had
followed him to the hotel, ensconcing herself in
the rooms just opposite? What, Rush tried to
conjecture, would have happened under such cir-
cumstances, if Le Baron had found her there?
He shivered at the thought. Had this girl, des-
perate with love for Le Baron, deliberately killed
herself at his bride’s feet, as it were, or had Le
Baron, fearful lest his Wife learn of the other
woman, killed her in a moment of passion and
hastily concealed her body when he heard his
wife returning to their rooms? Why wouldn’t
Bob tell where he had been the night before?
Surely that would clear him,—if he could be
cleared.
Feeling that things surely looked black for his




Page 39
1 that was murdered last
gir
,” he said as he sat down.
identified that
have
night
“ They





A HINT FROM HARRISON HARDY 39
friend, Rush joined his employer at the break-
fast table. _
“ They have identified that girl that was mur-
dered last night,” he said as he sat down.
“ That so? ” grunted Hardy without even look-
ing up from his paper. “ Who was she? ”
“ Miss Ordinofi ”
“ Whom did you say? ” cried Hardy in amaze-
ment, half rising from his chair as his paper fell
unheeded to the floor. “ Who ”
“ Miss Ordinofi,” Rush repeated in bewilder-
ment, wholly at a loss to account for the astonish-
ing effect of his announcement.
“ My God,” cried Hardy, his florid face turn-
ing white and a startled look coming into his
piercing gray eyes. “ Olga Ordinoff. Then
they got the two millions already.”
“ What two millions? ” gasped Rush.
He was startled almost out of his senses to dis-
cover that his employer apparently not only had
known the murdered girl but knew her well
enough to be familiar with her first name. Nor
could he imagine what Mr. Hardy’s reference to


such an enormous sum Of money could mean.
“ Never mind,” said Harrison Hardy, recover-


40 THE MYSTERY IN THE RITSMORE
ing himself with an effort. “What is done, is
done. Keep your eyes and ears open and learn
all you can about the case, but don’t get mixed
up in it in any way, and "—once more a momen-
tary expression of terror came into his eyes—
“ whatever you do, don’t get me mixed up in it.
Do you hear, don’t get me mixed up in it.”
“Certainly not,” said Rush, even though a
hundred questions were tingling on his lips that
he would like to have asked if he only dared.
Who was Olga Ordinoff? How had Harrison
Hardy come to know her? Why had she been
murdered? What two million dollars was it that
he had referred to? Probably no one in the
world was more familiar with Harrison Hardy’s
affairs than was John Rush, yet there was much
that was kept from him. Hardy trusted no one.
Although all his correspondence passed through
his secretary’s hands, a large part of it was
couched in such cryptic language that it was un-
intelligible. Rush handled his personal check
book and paid all his bills and was the custodian
of his private address book, yet nothing in any
of these gave the slightest clue to his acquaint-
ance with Olga Ordinoff. In common with most


A HINT FROM HARRISON HARDY 41
large investors he had extensive interests in Rus-
sia but, so far as Rush knew, all details concern-
ing them had always been handled by one of the
trust companies that Hardy controlled.
After his astonishing outburst Mr. Hardy had
sunk back in his chair and sat there with his brow
wrinkled as if in concentrated thought. Sud-
denly he sprang up from the table, leaving his
breakfast untasted.
“ ’Phone Jackson that I must see him to-day.
Most important.”
With that he hastened from the room. Rush,
following to the lobby to carry out his employer’s
order, kept puzzling as he did so as to whether
Hardy’s sudden summoning of Mayor Jackson
had any connection with the mystery in the
hotel.
Although few in the city suspected it, and no
one perhaps but Rush himself could have given
evidence to prove it, Mayor Jackson was Harri-
son Hardy’s man. Ostensibly he took little in-
terest and still less part in municipal and political
affairs, yet controlling, as Mr. Hardy did, vast
real estate interests within the city limits, he had
found it expedient to have in the City Hall a


4.2 THE MYSTERY IN THE RITSMORE
man who could be trusted to do his bidding when
necessity arose. Through carefully camouflaged
channels he had brought about Jackson’s nomina-
tion and election. Although they seldom saw
each other and never met publicly, the secretary
knew that the Mayor would lose no time in com-
ing to see Mr. Hardy. .
Trying vainly to find some connection with the
errand he had just accomplished and Olga Or-
dinoff’s fate, Rush returned to the dining room
to finish his breakfast.
“Are you alone? May I sit down?”
He gave a start as he heard a well-remembered
voice at his elbow. It was the girl—the Miss
Unknown—whom he had seen the night be-
fore in the Le Barons’ apartment. Hastily he
sprang up.
“ Delighted,” he cried. “Won’t you join me
in having some breakfast? ”
“ I hoped you would ask me,” said the girl, not
in the least abashed or embarrassed by the in-
formality of their previous meeting. “ There
‘ are lots of things I want to ask you.”
“The same here,” he said. “The body has
been identified, you know.”


A HINT FROM HARRISON HARDY 43
“ Of course it would be. Who was she? ”
“ Miss Olga Ordinoff. She registered from
Philadelphia.”
“And the Le Barons? ”
“The police seem to think they know some—
thing about it. There was a detective in their
rooms all last night.”
“ How silly! ”
“ Of course it is silly, but all the same things
look pretty black for Le Baron.”
“But there are so many Obvious things to
show that he didn’t commit the crime, if the
police would only keep their eyes open.”
“ What things? ”
“ Well, in the first place, bridal couples do not
commit murders. In the second place, Mr. Le
Baron was not there. You said yourself that
he came up in the elevator with you. In the
third place, where would either of them on their
wedding journey get hold of a kitchen knife?
Lastly, any one could tell by looking at them that
they are both nice riormal people, not the kind
that commit murders.”
“ Who did kill the girl, then? ”
Rush studied her face as he put the question.


4.4 THE MYSTERY IN THE RITSMORE
She seemed so positive that his friends were in-
nocent. She had manifested a great deal of
curiosity about it. Why? Who was she? He
did not regard it as at all surprising that she
should have come to the table to speak to him.
He had observed that ever since the war women,
especially the younger women, seemed to have
forever lost that pretended shyness and mock
modesty that previously had been part of their
stock in trade. Without having become flirta-
tious or forward they had developed a new sense
of comradeship toward men which they hitherto
had not possessed. Their experience in meeting
strangers in war work and Red Cross drives had
left them with a new aspect of life. A girl now-
adays thought no more of talking to a man to
whom she had not been introduced than she
would of talking to a woman. This self-pos-
sessed young person who had joined him so un-
conventionally evidently was well-bred and well
educated. He must find out who she was.
Probably the easiest and best way would be to
ask her direct.
“ By the way,” he said, “ wouldn’t it help mat-
ters if we knew each other’s name? ”


A HINT FROM HARRISON HARDY 45
“ You mean, Mr. John Rush,” she said with a
mischievous smile, “ if you knew my name.”
“ Why, how did you know mine? Where did
you know me? ” he cried, startled to find her al-
ready acquainted with him. “ We have not met
before, have we?”
Merrily she shook her head.
“ We’ve both of us been living here in this big
hotel for nearly two years, that’s all, and I just
happened to know your name.”
“ That explains it. Your face seemed familiar
to me last night. I felt that I ought to know
who you were but I didn’t.”
“ You have seen me many, many times right
here in the dining room but you never bothered
to notice me.”
“ It never will happen again,” he announced
earnestly, “if only you’ll tell me your name."
“ I’m Anne Blair, college girl, orphan, chaper-
oned by maiden aunt; occupation, seeking to
amuse myself,” she retorted half impudently.
“Attached or single?” he challenged, falling
into her mood.
“ Single as yet, but I have hopes.”
But Rush was in no mood to continue the


46 THE MYSTERY IN THE RITSMORE
banter. His mind was full of last night’s occur-
rences and he was troubled about his friends’
plight. Disregarding her invitation for a com-
pliment, he said gravely:
“ But still I don’t understand how you came to
be in that room last night, or whither you van—
ished so suddenly.”
“Our apartment is on that corridor. I was
passing right by the Le Barons’ door when I
heard a woman’s scream. The door was open
so I stepped in to investigate. I just love to in-
vestigate. I suppose I come by it naturally.
Dad was a lawyer and used to have lots of inter-
esting cases. He always talked them over with
me. He used to say I was a wonder at solving
things. I have often wished I could have a
chance to investigate a murder, a real mysterious
murder. When I saw that poor girl’s body lying
there I just had to go in and look about. While
you were telephoning the office I slipped into
our own rooms. That explains everything,
doesn’t it? ” /
As she talked Rush had been thinking. Why
not take this girl into his confidence and tell her
the strange phases of the case that he dared not


A HINT FROM HARRISON HARDY 47


tell the police? She spoke Of having discussed
cases with her lawyer father. Perhaps her ex-
perience might be helpful in clearing Le Baron.
Instinctively he felt that she was to be trusted
and already she had expressed her firm faith in
the innocence of the Le Barons.
“ Look here,” he said with sudden determina-
tion, “why can’t we investigate this case to-
gether, you and I? There are a lot of things that
make it look bad for Le Baron, although I am
sure he is innocent. He will not tell where he
was last evening. The girl was apparently a
Russian. He returned from Russia only a few
months ago. The girl had an apartment right
across the corridor from his. He told his wife
he had to go out on business. I happen to know
he did not leave the hotel. When I came up in
the elevator with him he was hatless. Then
there was the matter of the note.”
“ What note? I heard nothing about that.”
“I was with him in the lobby just before
dinner. A bell boy handed him a note. I just
happened to notice that it was in a woman’s
handwriting. He said nothing to the police
about it, but it looks bad on the face of it—a


4.8 THE MYSTERY IN THE RITSMORE
bridegroom, just back from Russia, gets a note
from a woman, disappears without telling his
bride where he is going, will not tell where he
has been, and a woman, a Russian woman who
had rooms just across the hall, is found murdered
in his apartment. I don’t wonder the police sus-
pect him.”
“ Dad used always to warn me not to be misled
by circumstantial evidence. While skilful crim—
inals sought to avoid leaving a trail, he would
point out that blundering innocents did all sorts
of silly things that made the police suspect them
and juries convict them. The mere fact that Mr.
Le Baron has been in Russia doesn’t make him a
murderer. Russia is the biggest country in the
world. Suspecting him because he has been in
Russia is like blaming a New Yorker for a mur-
der in Seattle.”
“ But why is he so secretive about where he
was and about the note?”
“A bridegroom who gets a note from a woman
isn’t apt to let his bride know about it. He may
have gone to see the woman who wrote the note,
and doesn’t wish his wife to learn of it. His ar-
rest for murder, if he should be arrested, would



A HINT FROM HARRISON HARDY 49
not bother him, for he knows he is innocent, but
if he did go to see the woman, he has a feeling
of guilt about that and will go to great lengths
to prevent his wife finding out about it.”
“ It sounds quite logical the way you put it,"
Rush admitted. “I suppose your theory then
is that Miss Ordinoff was murdered by a thief—
probably by a waiter.”
“I don’t know,” she said thoughtfully. “ If
she were a Russian, it would not surprise me in
the least to discover that the crime was the result
of a plot, political or otherwise.”
It was on the tip of Rush’s tongue to tell her
of Harrison Hardy’s astounding exclamation
when he had learned the identity of the murdered
woman, but he was saved from this indiscretion
by the approach of one of the hotel servants.
“ Mr. Rush,” said the man, “ Mr. Hardy wants
you to join him at once.”
“I may see you again, to-day, some time, to
tell you the developments, may I not?” said Rush
as he made his excuses to Miss Blair.
“ I’ll be at home any time after four,” she said.
Delighted to find that another meeting with
the clever young woman had been so easy to ar-


50 THE MYSTERY IN THE RITSMORE
range, Rush hurried away to join his employer.
He found Mr. Hardy impatiently pacing the
floor.
“ You know this Le Baron, don’t you? ” his
employer demanded as he entered.
“ Fairly well. We were college mates.”
“ Well enough to warrant your butting into
his afiairs? ”
“ Yes, I think so.”
“ Good. I’m convinced that there is more in
this murder than appears on the surface. Get
one of the detective agencies on the job at once
to look after his interests. Better get the Smith
Agency. They have been doing good work
lately. Tell Hugh Smith I will guarantee his
bills provided he keeps his mouth shut about my
having anything to do with it. Tell him to spare
no expense in solving this mystery. Get hold of
Smith and then see your friend and tell him what
you are doing. If he needs a lawyer get him
one.”
As Rush left the apartment to carry out his
employer’s orders he felt strangely exultant.
Mr. Hardy’s actions seemed to accord nicely
with Miss Blair’s theory that Olga Ordinoff’s


A HINT FROM HARRISON HARDY 5'!
death had been the result of a deep-laid plot.
Hardy must have some knowledge of this plot
that he was withholding, otherwise why would
he have insisted on the services of the most cele-
brated detective in the city being called in? His
anxiety not to appear in any way in the matter
was perhaps only natural, for he always was ad-
verse to publicity, but certainly it looked as if he
himself were in some way involved. Was it,
Rush wondered, his two million dollars that had
vanished when Miss Ordinofi was slain?
From a booth in the hotel lobby Rush made an
appointment to meet Hugh Smith and then
ascended to the Le Baron apartment.
A police detective answered his knock at the
doon
“ What do you want?” he asked suspiciously.
“ I wish to see Mr. Le Baron.”
“ He ain’t here.”
“ Mrs. Le Baron, then.”
“You can’t see her. She’s out of her head
and the doctor is with her.”
“Where’s Mr. Le Baron, then?” Rush per-
sisted. “ Where can I find him?”
The detective grinned maliciously.


52 THE MYSTERY IN THE RITSMORE
“ You can find him easy enough. There’s no
danger of his running away. He’s behind the
bars, held without bail, charged with the murder
of the Ordinoff woman."


CHAPTER IV
THE WONDERFUL HUGH SMITH
STOPPING only long enough to notify his em-
ployer of Le Baron’s arrest, Rush hastened to
the office of Hugh Smith. On his way he won-
dered curiously what sort of a man he would find
and tried to recall what he had heard about the
detective and his methods. It was about a year
before that he first had heard the man’s name.
Smith seemed never to have figured in the news—
papers but yet had gained a great reputation in
the financial district for handling intricate in-
vestigations and he frequently was employed by
the large corporations in matters of a most con-
fidential nature.
His office was in a luxurious suite on the Ave-
nue. As soon as Rush had announced his name
he was ushered into Smith’s private office. The
first thing that struck his attention there was the
extreme simplicity with which it was furnished.
While the outer offices had that ornate luxurious-


54 THE MYSTERY IN THE RITSMORE

ness common to the ordinary prosperous Amer-
ican business, the office of Smith had an air of
Spartan severity. The walls were neutral in
tint. The only furniture was a plain pine table
and two straight plain chairs. There were no
pictures, nothing, not even a filing cabinet or a
safe.
Seated at the table alone was a tall man of the
Saxon type, his most notable feature perhaps be-
ing his unusually high forehead, from which two
deep-set gray eyes, shaded by large black-
rimmed glasses, bored disconcertingly at Rush.
For a moment he studied his visitor without
speaking.
“ You are John Rush,” he said, “from Harri-
son Hardy? ”
“ Yes, Mr. Hardy’s private secretary.”
“ Tell me everything.”
He spoke excellent English, with the accent of
a university man, but with a curious quick way
of chopping off his sentences and an odd intona-
tion that gave an unfavorable twang to his voice,
making it not easily forgotten.
Concisely Rush told him just what had hap-
pened in the hotel the night before, being careful


THE WONDERFUL HUGH SMITH 55


to say nothing either of Miss Blair’s visit or of
Mr. Hardy’s mention of the missing money.
Smith listened in silence until he had completed
his story.
“Although the police have arrested Le Baron,"
he concluded, “it is absurd to even think that he
could have committed such a crime.”
“ Nothing is absurd,” interjected Smith.
“ But I have known him for years."
“No one knows any one,” said Smith enig-
matically. “ Does Mr. Hardy understand that
this case is on the usual terms? ”
“ He told me to tell you that he would guaran-
tee all your charges."
Smith made an impatient gesture.
“ That of course is understood. I mean, there
must be no publicity in the matter. My connec-
tion with the case must not be mentioned. The
fault of the great American detective is that he
likes to see’his name in the papers. It destroys
My part in the case must be kept
absolutely secret.”
“ I can promise you that," said Rush quickly.
“ Mr. Hardy is equally anxious that his name be
kept out of it.”
his usefulness.


56 THE MYSTERY IN THE RITSMORE
As he replied he looked searchingly at the in-
vestigator. What had he meant by speaking so
disparagingly of “American ” detectives? Was
he not an American himself? Rush, recalling
the curious inflection in the man’s voice, won-
dered curiously as to his nationality, whether he
might be an Englishman or a Dane, possibly a
Colonial.
“ Come,” said Hugh Smith, apparently ob-
livious to his scrutiny, “let us visit your friend
Le Baron. Let us hear his story.”
In the police station they had no difficulty in
seeing the prisoner. They found him haggard
from a sleepless night and greatly worried about
the effect of his arrest on his bride, but appar—
ently unconcerned about his own plight. He
was far more eager to learn about Mrs. Le
Baron’s condition than he was to discuss the mur-
der or his arrest, but when he finally did tell his
story of what had happened it coincided in every
way with Rush’s account.
“ I didn’t kill the girl,” he asserted. “ I never
saw her before. I don’t know how the body got
in the cupboard. I didn’t have anything to do
with it. The police are a lot of stupid fools.”


THE WONDERFUL HUGH SMITH 57


“But,” said Hugh Smith, “they have much
evidence. It points to you. You have just mar-
ried. You come to the hotel and take apartment
Number 807. A woman arrives and takes the
apartment opposite. You go out and refuse to
tell where you have gone. Your wife also is out
of the rooms. In the apartment opposite is evi-
dence of a struggle, a chair overturned. What
do the police think? They think you found the
woman there. You quarreled with her. She
ran out to denounce you to your bride. You
followed her. Mrs. Le Baron was not in the
rooms. You fear she will return and find the
woman there. In a frenzy of rage and fear you
kill the woman. You hide her body in the cup-
board. That is the police theory. Can you dis-
prove it? Where were you last evening? ”
As Smith thus tersely summed up the police
case Rush realized that there was going to be
greater difficulty in establishing his friend’s inno-
cence than he had foreseen.
“And there’s the note, too,” he explained.
“ Suppose they find out about that.”
“ What note?” said Smith sharply. “You
mentioned no note."


58 THE MYSTERY IN THE RITSMORE
Rush looked to Le Baron, expecting him to
volunteer a statement, but he kept silent. Feeling
that since he had let this much slip there was noth-
ing to do but tell the rest of it,he turned to Smith.
“ Last night, just before dinner, I was standing
with Mr. Le Baron in the lobby. A bell boy
handed him a note. I could not help seeing that
it was addressed in a woman’s handwriting. You
had better tell Mr. Smith the whole story, Le
Baron.”
Still Le Baron kept silent though he was
visibly agitated.
“What’s more,” Rush went on, “ the woman
that was killed was named Olga Ordinoff. That
sounds like a Russian name. If the police find
out that you recently returned from Russia it will
look pretty bad for you.”
Le Baron laughed, a short ugly laugh.
“ I don’t know who Olga Ordinoff is. I never
saw her in Russia or anywhere else. About the
note, I might as well tell it since Rush has men-
tioned it. I’ll tell you two where I was last night
but it must go no further. Mrs. Le Baron must
never find out. I was not out of the hotel at all
last night.”


THE WONDERFUL HUGH SMITH 59
“I knew that,” said Rush. “You were hat-
less in the elevator.”
“ I guess I’m a pretty poor liar,” said Le Baron
grimly. “ That note was from a woman, a
widow with whom I was once mixed up. She
lives in the Ritsmore and recognized me. She
sent me a note, asking me to come to see her.
Like a fool I went. I wanted to hush her up.
She kept me talking for hours, out of pure malice,
I guess. That’s all there was to it, but Mrs. Le
Baron must never find out about it. I know
women. She’ll forgive my being locked up for a
murder I did not commit, but she never would
forgive my having gone to see that widow. I
can explain away my arrest but I never could
explain that.”
Smith’s penetrating eyes never had left Le
Baron’s face as he was speaking.
“I believe you,” he said tersely. “ We will
find the murderer and your wife never need know
about the widow. Come, Mr. Rush, we will re-
turn to the hotel.”
“ Do you think you can find the murderer?”
Rush asked anxiously as a taxi bore them away
from the police station.


60 THE MYSTERY IN THE RITSMORE
“ Of course,” said Hugh Smith, with a cock-
sureness that was amazing to his companion.
“ I wanted to be sure that Le Baron had no part
in it. He is telling the truth. What then? The
murder was committed by some one who could
enter Miss Ordinoff’s rooms without arousing
suspicions. Who would that be? A waiter, of
course.”
Arriving at the hotel, to Rush’s surprise, he
made no attempt to inspect the scene of the
crime. Instead he demanded at once to see the
manager.
“I am making a private investigation in be-
half of Mr. Le Baron,” he explained, “ at the re-
quest of his friend, Mr. Rush. If you wish the
mystery immediately solved, you will have
brought for me a list of the waiters and the hotel
records of yesterday.”
His calm self-assurance was effective in stir-
ring Mr. Edgar to activity. In a few minutes
he had before him the loose-leaf sheets that
recorded the activities of the hotel for the day
before. For a quarter of an hour he studied
the sheets critically and then turned to the
manager.


THE WONDERFUL HUGH SMITH 61
“Is there a detective upstairs still in the Le
Barons’ rooms?” '
“ Two of them,” said Mr. Edgar.
“ Tell one of them to come down here.”
“ Here, you,” he said contemptuously, as the
police detective entered, “ get your chief on the
’phone at once. Tell him this is the story of the
murder.” He spoke sharply and decisively as
though he expected and was used to having
prompt obedience. “ Miss Olga Ordinoff arrived
at the hotel at five-forty-five last night. She was
assign-ed to apartment Number 806. At seven-
fifteen she telephoned for a waiter. Waiter
Number 47 answered her summons, bringing the
dinner card. He returned with the meal she had
ordered at seven-forty-five. He saw that she
was alone there. He saw her 'jewels carelessly
displayed on the dresser. He determined to rob
her. Returning to the kitchen he picked up and
secreted a sharp knife. At eight-forty-five the
records show he returned to remove the dishes.
He attacked the girl. She fled into the corridor,
with him in pursuit. She saw the door opposite
ajar and ran in there. He followed and killed
her as she battled with him. The clothespress


()2 THE MYSTERY IN THE RITSMORE
offered a convenient hiding place for the body.
He thrust it in there, returned to the girl’s rooms
and stole her jewels. Then he carried the dishes
downstairs and left the hotel.”
He turned abruptly to another sheet, that
giving a list of the names and addresses of the
hotel’s dining-room employees.
“ Waiter Number 47 is Emil Lehman. He
lives at Number 63 Third Avenue. Arrest him
and you will have the murderer.”
“I’ll telephone the Inspector at once,” said
the detective, evidently much impressed by Hugh
Smith’s air of authority.
“ That’s all,” said Smith, turning to Rush.
“ Your friend will soon be free. Most of these
cases are simple. I return to my office.”
Rejoicing at this rapid solution of the mystery
which promised speedy freedom for his friend,
Rush hastened up to Harrison Hardy’s suite to
report developments to his employer. He found
him in conference with Mayor Jackson, both ap-
parently so absorbed by the topic of discussion
that they did not hear his entrance.
“ I tell you, Jackson,” Hardy was saying heat-
edly, “your detectives are no good. Only last


THE WONDERFUL HUGH SMITH 63
night right here in this hotel a woman was mur-
!’

dered and it is a mystery
“A mystery that has been solved,” interrupted
Rush.
“ What’s that? ” cried Hardy sharply.
“The police have made an arrest in that case
already,” interposed the Mayor; “ a man named
Le Baron.”
“ Le Baron didn’t do it,” sneered Hardy.
“ No,” added Rush, “ the murderer was Emil
Lehman, a waiter, who served dinner in Miss
Ordinofi’s rooms. He murdered her for her
jewels. The police are on his track now.”
“ Humph,” grunted Hardy unbelievingly,
“ humph, a waiter. We’ll see. That will be all,
Rush. I won’t need you again to-day.”
Accepting this obvious dismissal, Rush left the
room, rather unwillingly it must he confessed, f0r
he was all keyed up over the new developments
and felt that he must discuss them with some
one. He went first to the Le Baron apartments
and asked the nurse in attendance there to break
the news to Mrs. Le Baron that her husband’s
innocence would soon be established and that he
would quickly be freed. He thought of visiting


64 THE MYSTERY IN THE RITSMORE
the police station to see Le Baron again but re—
jected that plan as unwise. Mr. Hardy had
counselled him against getting mixed up in the
case any further than was necessary. Miss Blair
had said she would be at home at four. He
looked at his watch. It was just one and he re-
membered that he had not yet had luncheon. A
daring idea came to him. Perhaps Miss Blair
might be in her rooms. He knew that she would
be keenly interested in what had occurred. He
called her on the ’phone, and to his great delight
found her at home.
“ I have so much to tell you,” he said, “I was
wondering if you would join me at luncheon.”
“ I’m afraid not,” she said, her eager tones be-
traying her interest despite her refusal. “ You
remember we breakfasted together in the hotel
this morning.”
“ How about the Casino in the park?” he sug-
gested with sudden inspiration.
“ That would be splendid,” she cried enthusi-
astically. “ I’ll meet you there in twenty
minutes.”
Hastin calling a taxi he drove to the Casino
and selecting a table near the driveway in a.


THE WONDERFUL HUGH SMITH 65
secluded corner he eagerly awaited her coming.
He decided to tell her everything. Her shrewd
deduction that it had been a waiter’s crime con-
vinced him that her logical mind would be of
great aid to him in following up the case. He
was still puzzled by his employer’s concern over
Olga Ordinofif’s death. Perhaps Anne Blair
could aid him in clearing up the phases of the
mystery that still perplexed him.
Presently she approached with that frank air
of camaraderie that had so appealed to him at
their previous meeting that day. There was no
trace of self-consciousness in her manner and she
was frankly glad to be there.
“While I’m no prude,” she said as she sat
down, “I don’t like to get myself talked about
even by hotel servants. Eating together twice
in one day in the Ritsmore might have attracted
notice to us.”
“ You’re quite right,” he replied, “ but I want
to congratulate you on your wonderful intuition.
You said it was a waiter’s crime and the great
Hugh Smith agrees with you. He told the police
a few minutes ago to look for Emil Lehman, a
waiter.”


66 THE MYSTERY IN THE RITSMORE
“ Really? "
“ Yes. He arrived at his opinion by studying
the hotel records. They showed that Lehman
had three times been in Miss Ordinoff’s apart-
ment.”
“ Tell me everything,” she commanded.
He described in detail his visit to Hugh Smith’s
office, their journey to the police station, the ex-
planation Le Baron had given of his whereabouts
the evening before and of their return to the
hotel and Smith’s searching examination of the
hotel records that had led to his deduction that
the murderer must have been the waiter.
“ S0,” he concluded, “ your deduction that it
was done by a waiter was correct, even though
you jumped to conclusions and suspected that it
was a result of a plot. It proves to have been
just a murder for robbery.”
“ Say rather,” she corrected, “ that Hugh
Smith thinks it was an ordinary murder for rob-
bery.”
“Then you do not agree with him?” cried
Rush in amazement.
She shook her head and wrinkled her brows
thoughtfully.


THE WONDERFUL HUGH SMITH 67
“ It was something more than that. I am cer-
tain of it. Even if you had not told me of Mr.
Hardy’s strange interest in the case and the
money he mentioned, Hugh Smith’s glib recon-
struction of what happened last night has easily
detectible flaws.”
“ I don’t understand.”
“Imagine myself in Miss Ordinoff’s place,
alone in that hotel room last night. A waiter tries
to throttle me, to rob me. What would I do? ”
“ Of course you would resist.”
“ No, I’d do what any woman would do under
such circumstances. I’d scream. I’d scream at
the top of my voice. If Miss Ordinoff ran out
of the room and across the corridor into Le
Baron’s rooms she would have been screaming
at the top of her voice. The floor clerk would
have heard her. The occupants of other rooms
along the corridor would have heard her. I’d
have heard her myself in our apartment. Now,
nobody heard any screams.”
“ That’s so,” said Rush perplexedly.
“ Now then, either Miss Ordinofi did not rush
out into the corridor, as Smith suggests, or she
didn’t scream.”


68 THE MYSTERY IN THE RITSMORE
“ What do you think did happen, then?”
“ I suspect,” said Miss Blair thoughtfully,
“ that she was killed in her own rooms before she
had a chance to cry out. It looks to me as if a
deliberate attempt was made to cast suspicion of
the murder on Mr. Le Baron. I am positive that
Miss Ordinoff’s body was carried in there after
she had been killed. Probably Hugh Smith is
right that the actual crime was committed by
this waiter, but I am convinced that some other
brain, some brain more intelligent than the or-
dinary waiter’s, conceived the crime and directed
the murder.”
“ Whose? ” asked her companion.
“I don’t know,” she answered thoughtfully.
“ I don’t know—yet.”
A newsboy passed crying the evening papers,
and Rush summoned him to the table. Together
they eagerly scanned the first page. Under flar-
ing headlines on the first page was a brief bul-
letin:
Emil Lehman, a waiter, forty-six years old, liv-
ing at No. 63 Third Avenue, a rooming house, at
- two P. M. to-day shot himself through the head as
the police arrived to arrest him for the Ordinoff
murder in the Ritsmore hotel. His clothing was


THE WONDERFUL HUGH SMITH 69
packed up and he evidently was preparing for
flight. On a scrap of paper beside him he had
scrawled in pencil, “ I killed her for her jewels.”
In his valise were found secreted several valuable
rings and a diamond bar-pin. Lehman had oc-
cupied a room at this address for only three days
and nothing was known there of his affairs.
In the paper were also despatches from Phila-
delphia which said that Olga Ordinoff was the
daughter of a former Imperial Russian General.
Her father had been killed in the Revolution and
she and her mother, escaping to America, for
more than a year had been living quietly in a
suburb of Philadelphia. They appeared to be
comfortably off. On the day before the girl had
gone to New York on a shopping trip.
“ Mr. Le Baron was only in Vladivostock,
wasn’t he? ” asked Miss Blair.
“ Yes, he was there for a month. He went by
way of Seattle.”
“ See how absurd it would have been to sus-
pect him because he had been there. It says
here that the Ordinoffs came from Petrograd by
way of Stockholm. He never had been within
several thousand miles of the Ordinoff home in
Russia.”


THE WONDERFUL HUGH SMITH 71
He stopped short and a sudden light of com-
prehension came into his face.
“ What is it?” cried his companion eagerly.
“ Tell me.”
“ I remember now,” he said thoughtfully.
“ Meyer, the head waiter, all the time he was in
the room, stood in front Of that door. He had a
handkerchief in his hands. He kept twisting it
about. I thought he was just nervous. I re-
member I saw him once raise it to his lips and
another time put his hand behind his back. I
wonder if he could have erased it. Yes, it must
have been he.”
For a moment both of them sat there in silence,
trying to fathom the meaning of this.
“Mr. Rush,” said Miss Blair, speaking with
conviction, “ I know I am right. This poor
girl’s death was the result of a plot. We must
find out who directed that waiter to kill her. We
must find out why she was killed. We must
ascertain what Mr. Hardy knew about her. We
must discover what that exclamation of his about
the money meant. We must try to ascertain the
significance of that little black cross and why it
was erased. I’m crazy to get at the bottom of


72 THE MYSTERY IN THE RITSMORE
all this. It’s the first time I ever have had an
opportunity of the sort. It's the kind of thing I
adore. You will help me. We’ll work together
and solve it, won’t we? Say you will.”
“ I will,” said Rush, with all the solemnity of
an oath, inwardly delighting at the prospect such
an association would give him for increased
intimacy with this charming young woman and
little dreaming whither and into what black ter-
rors the path on which they were so eagerly
setting out would lead them.


CHAPTER V
POOR LITTLE RUTHINA DUSHANE
INASMUCH as the waiter’s suicide amounted to
a practical confession of guilt, the police lost no
time in releasing Le Baron, with such apologies
as they could make. His return to his wife’s
bedside with his reputation cleared was all that
was needed to restore her to health and spirits.
Fortunately, too, for her husband, not a hint had
reached her of the errand that had caused him
to absent himself on the night of the murder, so
their interrupted honeymoon continued bliss-
fully.
Le Baron, exuberantly joyful over his escape
from what had promised to be a most disagree-
able entanglement, insisted on giving a dinner
to celebrate. Rush, of course, was asked and
had suggested that Miss Blair also be invited,
trusting that her interest in the mystery would
be sufficient to induce her to waive the infor—
mality of her acquaintance with the Le Barons.


74 THE MYSTERY IN THE RITSMORE
They had had a merry evening, six of them,—
dinner at the Plaza, a theatre afterward and a
snack and a dance later at the Moulin Rouge.
“ Did you notice that poor little Dushane girl?”
said Miss Blair to her escort, the minute they
had left the others and gotten into a taxi. “ She’s
frightened to death about something.”
“ Probably she’s terrified at the thought of
marrying that Italian count,” suggested Rush.
“ Don’t be silly,” she retorted. “ That has
been her life’s ambition, to marry a foreigner of
title. She’s pitifully happy about that and im-
agines herself very much in love with him. It is
something else that’s troubling her."
“ Pooh, pooh,” scoffed Rush. “ I’m afraid you
are overworking your deductive faculties since
we began investigating the Ordinoff case.”
“If you would only learn to observe closely
you would have seen it yourself.”
“ Have seen what?”
“ Didn’t you notice all through dinner how her
fingers kept twitching and how she kept picking
at the lace of her costume? Every time a waiter
bent over her shoulder she gave a start.”
“ Schoolgirl nerves.”


76 THE MYSTERY IN THE RITSMORE
That the cycle of existence of either of them
should suddenly have swung into the orbit of
Ruthina Dushane was unusual, to say the least.
A week ago they had known neither her nor
each other. Mrs. Le Baron it was who had
brought them all together. She and Ruthina
Dushane had attended the same finishing school
and a chance meeting in a hat shop had revived
their acquaintance, so Miss Dushane and her
suitor had been invited to round out the
party.
“Tell me, Mr. Rush,” Miss Blair asked, sud-
denly rousing herself from her profound study,
“how much do you know about Ruthina Du-
shane? ”
“ Only what everybody knows—what has been
in the papers. Old Tom Dushane was a myste-
rious roughneck who turned up thirty odd years
ago with a fortune. He was supposed to have
been a seafaring man and to have made it in
pearls or piracy or something like that. He built
himself a palace up on the Hudson and when he
was fifty married a chorus girl. She tried to play
the society game but every one snubbed her.
She gave him a daughter, led him a dog’s life and


POOR LITTLE RUTHINA DUSHANE 77
finally eloped with an actor. She died a year or
two afterward. When old Tom passed out a
couple of years ago he left everything to his
daughter—ten millions, they say it was.”
“ It would not surprise me in the least,” said
Anne Blair thoughtfully, “ if some one wasn’t
trying to blackmail her, attempting to extort
money from her.”
“The count’s after her money, of course.
He certainly is not marrying her for her
beauty.”
As he spoke Rush mentally contrasted the ap-
pearance of the heiress with that of the charm-
ing girl beside him. While from her chorus-girl
mother Ruthina Dushane had inherited a Cu-
pid’s-bow mouth and baby blue eyes, her hair
was a coarse nondescript mane that no skill of
coifi‘uring could possibly make attractive. In
figure she was slight and thin-chested, but her
large unshapely hands and thick ankles marked
her for old Tom’s daughter. Anne Blair, on the
contrary, no matter how she was gowned, always
looked the patrician. She had wonderfully soft,
intelligent brown eyes that looked out from a
thoughtful forehead, shaded by great masses of


78 THE MYSTERY IN THE RITSMORE
well-kept dark hair. Her fingers were long and
tapering and her wrists, ankles and feet were
small and dainty.
“ Certainly Count Guido wants her money,”
she admitted. “ All Italians marry with that in
consideration, but she will gladly surrender her
fortune to him. All her life she has been starv-
ing for two things—affection and social recogni-
tion.’ She expects him to give her both. What-
ever it is she is afraid of, it is not her approaching
marriage.”
“Well, I don’t see that we can do anything
about it.”
“I’m not so sure. Just as we were saying
good night I managed to whisper to her, ‘I be-
lieve you’re in some sort of trouble. Come and
see me. Perhaps I can help you.’ ”
“ What did she say? ”
“ Not a word. The tears welled up in those
big blue eyes of hers and she gave me a look of
gratitude, but I feel sure she’ll come.”
“ I doubt it.”
Miss Blair looked out from the taxi window,
trying to recognize the buildings they were pass-
ing.


POOR LITTLE RUTHINA DUSHANE 79
“ My, we’re nearly home,” she cried as a fa-
miliar corner came into view. “Tell me, did
anything new happen to-day, about the case? ”
“ Not a thing.”
“What about Mr. Hardy? Has he let slip
anything more about the missing money? ”
“ Not a word. He went to Philadelphia this
afternoon.” '
“ That’s funny. The Ordinoff girl came from
there.”
“I don’t believe that has anything to do with
his going there. He is a director in several
Philadelphia companies and for years he has
been going over there to attend meetings and
dinners. Still, it is worth looking into.”
“ Has he seen the Mayor again?”
“ I don’t think so. He always makes appoint-
ments to meet him through me.”
“ What about the head waiter? Have you
succeeded in learning anything more about him?
I’m sure it must have been he who rubbed out
that mark on the door.”
“I have been watching him every chance I
get. If he is in any way involved in the Ordinofi
murder he certainly is a cool one. He goes


80 THE MYSTERY IN THE RITSMORE
about in that stiff condescending way the same
as ever. There is one thing I have noticed
though. He seems to be interested in us.”
“In us? ” cried the girl incredulously.
“Yes,” said Rush, “in us. The two times
that we have happened to be together in the din-
ing room I noticed that he was constantly hover-
ing about our table as if he was trying to over-
hear our conversation.”
“ We must be careful not to attract attention
to ourselves. We must not meet in the dining
room again.”
“ Oh, I say,” cried Rush, alarmed at the pros—
pect of losing such an interesting table com-
panion.
“ N0,” insisted Miss Blair, “it will not do at
all.”
-“ But,” he protested, “ I must see you again.
We must talk over the case. I am apt to find
out something important about Miss Ordinoff.
I’ve just got to see you.”
“ You can telephone me, can’t you?” she sug-
gested, smiling mischievously at his perturba-
tion, “and besides,” she whispered as he was
helping her out of the taxi, “ there are plenty of


82 THE MYSTERY IN THE RITSMORE
whom she was interested. There was one man,
he remembered now, of whom he had heard her
speak, some Captain Dudley, apparently abroad
with the army of occupation. Somewhat to his
own amazement he found himself hoping that
there was nothing serious between Miss Blair
and this man in Europe.
Vaguer he began to wonder if there would be
any chance for him in Miss Blair’s heart. Hith-
erto he never had thought of marrying, in fact,
had been inclined to self-congratulation on his
care-free bachelor existence. But somehow the
spectacle of Bob Le Baron and his bride together
had stirred him strangely. He found himself
wondering whether the happiness they showed
in each other’s society was sincere. All at once
he came to a realization that his own mode of life
was futile and terribly lonesome. And what a
wonderful wife Anne Blair would make.
But, he cogitated, how silly of him even to
think of her in that light. What had he to offer
as a matrimonial prospect? He had a good sal-
ary, to be sure, and some small savings besides,
but his time was never his own. Generous
though Harrison Hardy was in money matters to


POOR LITTLE RUTHINA DUSHANE 83
those who served him, in other respects he was a
hard taskmaster. It was his constant demand
that the personal affairs of his employees never
should be permitted to interfere with his own
convenience. He would hardly tolerate a mar-
ried man in his service, and for his private secre-
tary to contemplate matrimony was wholly out
of the question. Mr. Hardy wanted a man to
whom he could dictate letters at midnight or
send to the coast at a moment’s notice.
As long as he retained his present position
Rush realized it was worse than useless to let his
thoughts run to the taking of a wife, but an in-
spiring thought brought consolation to him.
Perhaps he might induce Mr. Hardy to find a
place for him in one of the financial institutions
he controlled. With a fair salary and regular
hours he might
What was that?
As he‘mused on his future he had arrived at
the door of the apartment he shared with his
employer. Just as he was about to insert his
key in the door he stopped short and listened in-
tently. By rights the apartment should be un-
occupied, yet surely he had heard something, the


84 THE MYSTERY IN THE RITSMORE
sound of some one moving about on the other
side of the door. Softly removing his key from
the door he stooped and applied his eye to the
keyhole.
He could see nothing except that there was a
light in the room. He distinctly recalled that he
had extinguished all the lights when he had left
the apartment shortly before seven.
Who was in the apartment?
There was no likelihood that Mr. Hardy had
returned unexpectedly. Harrison Hardy was a
man of exact habits. He had announced that he
would not return from Philadelphia until late the
next afternoon. He always kept to his schedule.
A chambermaid? No, that was out of the ques-
tion, for it was long after midnight.
Who then could it be? He must find out, at
once. Vainly wishing for a weapon of some
sort, he turned the key softly and flung open the
door quietly. He was right. There was some
one there. Through the lighted foyer he could
see into the sitting room beyond. There was a
man standing at Mr. Hardy’s desk.
W'ithout hesitation he advanced quickly. It
was his business to find out who the intruder was


POOR LITTLE RUTHINA DUSHANE 85
\
and what he was doing. With muscles tensed,
ready for sudden attack, he advanced into the
sitting room. At the sound of his step the man
turned quickly and he saw, with some sense of
relief, yet with a flood of suspicion rising within
him, that it was Meyer, the head waiter.
“ Oh, it’s you, Mr. Rush,” said Meyer calmly.
“ What are you doing here? ” he cried indig-
nantly.
“ I was wishing you would come in, sir,” said
the man, retaining his customary pose of suave
servility. “ An important letter arrived for Mr.
Hardy just after you had gone out. The mes-
senger had orders to deliver it to Mr. Hardy in
person or to his secretary. He waited about for
hours and several times had you both 'paged in
the dining room. When we were about closing
the rooms he seemed at a loss what to do and I
took the liberty of suggesting, sir, that I might
get the pass-key from the office and place the
letter on Mr. Hardy’s desk.”
“Where is the letter?” demanded Rush dis-
trustfully. He was convinced that the man was
lying. The recent conversation he had had with
Anne Blair about Meyer’s actions was fresh in


86 THE MYSTERY IN THE RITSMORE
his mind. He was confident that the head waiter
had taken advantage of the absence of both Mr.
Hardy and himself to gain access to the rooms _
for some secret and sinister purpose, yet after all
the excuse he had advanced for his presence was
a plausible one.
“ You’ll find it, sir, on the desk, in the centre
of the blotter. I put it apart from the others so
that it would be quickly seen. Good night, sir.”
With dignity Meyer withdrew, closing the
door behind him without having shown that in
any way he sensed the air of hostility with which
Rush had regarded his unexpected presence
there. Left alone, Rush made a hasty survey of
the apartments, but so far as he could see noth-
ing had been disturbed. He gave an anxious
glance at the little safe that stood in the corner,
but it seemed to be locked just as he had left it.
After all, he consoled himself, there was little in
the place worth stealing, beyond a few scarf pins
and trinkets. Even in the safe was little of
value. All documents of any importance were
habitually kept in the big safe at the office. At
the present moment the little safe held nothing
but Mr. Hardy’s personal check book and petty


88 THE MYSTERY IN THE RITSMORE
Mr. Ralston, the president of the Trust Com-
pany, was “ decode.” The Mayor was “ detect,"
while Rush’s own code name was “demote.”
“ Defeat ” he knew was George Grundy, a mys-
terious political personage, who once had been a
newspaper correspondent in Washington. He
now bore some sort of a confidential relation to
Harrison Hardy and his companies that was
little advertised. Though Grundy had an office
in the Trust‘Company building he spent little
time in it but was generally in Washington or
Albany or some other capital, attending to things
about which he always made reports in person
to Mr. Hardy.
With the code book before him Rush found
the message easy to translate. “ Fine ” he had
to look up. It meant “certain.” “Weather”
was a word he had seen so often he recognized it
at once. It always meant “funds.” Soon he
had the whole message transcribed, but even
then he was far from comprehending its mean-
ing. It read:
Certain funds did not reach Treptikoff. Great
excitement over 0. case. Report details to—
morrow. GRUNDY. .


POOR LITTLE RUTHINA DUSHANE 89
Perplexedly he studied the message before
him. Who was Treptikoff? What were the
funds that Grundy referred to? Were they the
two millions that had vanished when Olga Ordi-
noff was murdered? Surely it must mean that.
The “O case,” especially when taken in con-
junction with the other Russian name earlier in
the message, could hardly mean anything else
than the murder in the hotel.
With the message lying on the desk before
him Rush sat pondering on its significance. The
more he thought about it the more peculiar it
appeared that Meyer should have been the one
to bring the letter to their rooms. He was con-
vinced that the head waiter had deliberately con-
trived the visit, but for what purpose? The fact
that the ostensible murderer of Miss Ordinoff
had been a waiter seemed in itself almost enough
ground for suspecting him of being involved in
some way, even if it had not been he who ap-
parently had erased the black cross from the
door Where the body was found. Besides that,
both he and Miss Blair had observed that Meyer
had a habit of hovering about trying to overhear
their conversation. Had Meyer, he wondered,


CHAPTER VI
MISS DUSHANE’S PLIGHT
BREAKFASTING alone the next morning in the
hotel dining room, with his mind still absorbed
by the perplexing events of the night before,
Rush involuntarily turned toward the entrance
several times, hoping against hope that Anne
Blair might repent her decision and join him at
the table.
“ Miss Blair will not be in this morning," said
the voice of Meyer at his elbow. “ She had
breakfast sent to her rooms.”
“ Did she send you to give me that message? "
asked Rush frigidly, flushing with annoyance
that his impatient expectation had betrayed him
to the servitor.
“ Oh, no, sir; pardon me, sir,” said the man
obsequiously, “I merely noticed that you ap-
peared to be watching the door.”
“ Well, what if I was?” Rush answered gruffly,


92 THE MYSTERY IN THE RITSMORE
burying himself in the paper in an effort to hide
his annoyance; yet all the while he remained in
the dining room, secretly studying the masklike
face of the head waiter, trying to read there some
evidence of the guilt that he felt positive was
burdening this man whose surveillance he had
found so offensive.
His breakfast finished, he loitered over the
papers until it was time to go to Miss Blair’s
apartment, timing his arrival to the exact minute
of eleven; but even so he found that Miss Du-
shane had preceded him.
In the daylight, in street dress, the poor little
heiress looked even homelier and more plebeian
than she had the evening before in her party
gown. AlthOugh the dress and hat that she now
had on undoubtedly had come from a fashionable
shop and had cost a pretty penny, somehow they
merely served to emphasize her unattractiveness.
Her undeveloped face, always pasty, now was
marked with lines of worry and distress and her
round blue eyes, ordinarily her most attractive
feature, looked red and strained as if she might
have spent the night in tears.
“ You will help me; you must help me!” she


MISS DUSHANE’S PLIGHT 93
was urging Anne Blair in tones of frantic des-
peration as Rush entered. “ I cannot fight them.
I dare not.”
“ Of course we’ll help you,” Miss Blair replied
soothingly. “ Mr. Rush and I both will do what-
ever we can, but first you must tell us what it is
all about. What is troubling you? Whom do
you mean by they?”
“It’s Caspar,” cried the heiress, “ Caspar
Dietz. He says he will ruin me, will destroy
my reputation, will prevent my marriage un-
less ”
She hesitated and a great sob rose in her
throat. It was evident that her coming mar-

riage meant much to her. Apparently all the
aflection and love of which she was capable had
flowered to its utmost at the cavalier attentions
of the polished young Italian officer who had laid
siege to her heart.
“ Unless what?” persisted Miss Blair.
“ Unless I pay him before noon next Tuesday
a hundred thousand dollars,” came the astound-
ing answer.
“ Why, it’s blackmail,” cried Rush indignantly.
“ It is easy enough to put a stop to that. Send


94 THE MYSTERY IN THE RITSMORE
for the police and have him arrested. The law
makes short shrift of blackmailers.”
“You don’t understand,” said Miss Dushane
plaintively. “ I can’t. I daren’t.”
With a pathetic gesture of appeal she drew
forth from a little bag she was carrying a docu—
ment of some sort and held it forth for Rush’s
inspection.
“ See,” she cried, bursting into sobs, “ see, here
is the letter he wrote me.”
Wonderingly Rush took the paper she handed
and with Anne Blair looking over his shoulder
they read it together,—an amazing missive writ-
ten in an illiterate hand on the cheapest sort of
stationery. It read:
MISS RUTHINA DUSHANE: Respected Miss—I
read in the papers yet that you are to be married
soon with Count de Carlo. We write to ask you
what you will do about your child we have been
keeping for you. CASPAR DIETZ.
“ Your child,” gasped Anne Blair, for once
shaken out of her self-composure.
“ That’s what he says,” wailed the girl, “ and
I never had a child.”
“It’s nothing but an outrageous attempt. to


MISS DUSHANE’S PLIGHT 95
blackmail an unprotected girl," began Rush,
stirred to wrath by the crude audacity of the
letter. “We’ll ”
“ Wait a moment,” said Anne, laying a re-
straining hand on his arm. “We must get at
the bottom of this. We must first learn all the
facts. Miss Dushane, calm yourself. Give us
your entire confidence and we will see you

through. I promise you that. If you have done
nothing wrong the man is powerless to hurt you.
Now, tell us everything. First, just who is Cas-
par Dietz? ”
“ He used to be our gardener. He has known
me ever since I was a little girl. I know his wife,
too. He married Sophie, one Of our maids.”
“When did he write you this letter?” ques-
tioned Rush.
“I got it two weeks ago, a day or two after
my engagement had been announced in the
papers.”
“ What did you do?”
“ I couldn’t imagine what he meant by it, so I
went up to see him and ask him what he meant
by such a letter.”
“ Where does he live?”


96 THE MYSTERY IN THE RITSMORE
“After he left my father’s employ he bought
a little place in Westchester County. He and
his wife run a dog kennels, a place where they
take dogs to board.” I
“ What did he say when you saw him? ”
“ I saw them both, Caspar and Sophie. They
had a boy baby there, a child about two years
old. They both insisted that it was mine. They
said they would have to tell Guido about it unless
I made some arrangement with them.”
“ What did you do? ”
“I was so surprised and horrified I didn’t
know just what to do. I told them their story
was ridiculous and that they could not get any
one to believe them. Caspar was very deter-
mined and stubborn about it. He showed me
some letters that I had written which he said
would prove to any one that the child was
mine.”
“ Letters,” repeated Miss Blair in amazement.
“ Had you written them letters? ”
The girl nodded miserably.
“ That’s the unfortunate part of it,” she went
on to explain. “ It is all perfectly ridiculous, but
just the same .it’s terrible. The letters were all


MISS DUSHANE’S PLIGHT 97
written about a dog of mine they were keeping
for me, my dog Dick. Now, Caspar and Sophie
say the baby’s name is Dick and that the letters
are about the baby. They say unless I pay them
they will send the letters to Guido.”
“ What was in the letters? ” asked Rush.
“ Do you remember how they read? ”
The color mounted into Ruthina Dushane’s
pale cheeks as she answered confusedly.
“That’s the worst part of it. They’re such
silly letters. All of them speak of enclosing
money for my Dickie’s board and ask how the
little darling is getting on and all that sort of
thing. They really do sound as if they might
have been written about a child but of course
they weren’t.”
“ It’s absurd,” cried Rush indignantly. “ They
never can get away with a fake case like that.
You must defy them. You must have them ar-
rested at once.”
“ I can’t do that,” cried the girl, with stubborn
determination. “ I won’t. Mr. Rush,” she said,
turning to him with something of the spirit of
rough old Tom Dushane, “you do not under-
stand. There must be no publicity whatever


98 THE MYSTERY IN THE RITSMORE
about this. If I should have them arrested it
would get into the papers. Remember who I
am. Ever since I can recollect the newspapers
have been printing dreadful things about us,
about my father and ” she hesitated, color-
ing a little, “and about my mother. I never

have been able to make any friends, any nice
friends, or to have any social position. The only
thing that has comforted me, that has made it
possible for me to endure things, has been my
knowledge that there never has been any scandal
about me. I have always lived quietly and done
my best to avoid any one’s talking about me.
Always, all my life, I have been looking forward
hopefully, wishing and wishing that some good
man might seek me out and ask me to be his wife
and take me away from everything, from the
horrid scandals of the past, from the terrible
memories of‘my childhood. The man has come
and I have kept myself worthy of him. But
Count Guido is proud, proud of his family and
position. Think what it will mean if I have
Caspar and Sophie arrested, if a single word or
hint of this disgraceful story they tell ever be-
comes public. , No matter if they both are sent


MISS DUSHANE’S PLIGHT 99
to prison, no matter if their story is absurd, im-
possible, dastardly and untrue, the newspapers
will take it up. They will revive the past. Peo-
ple will talk and will whisper that there must be
something behind it. My reputation, the only
thing I’ve got to be really proud of, will be ruined
and blackened and I’ll lose Guido, yes, even
though I am innocent, absolutely innocent of
what they say.”
“Yes,” said Anne Blair, tears of sympathy
welling up in her great dark eyes as she put an
arm comfortingly about the distressed little heir-
ess, “what you say is true, cruelly true. The
story must never become public. People would
be sure to talk and some of them would believe
it.”
“ What would you advise me to do, then—pay]
them? ” '
“ How much was it they asked for? ”
“A hundred thousand dollars. It’s a lot, but
I can raise it. Some property of mine was sold
last week and I have the money in bank. It
isn’t the money, though. I should have plenty
left, but Dad used often to warn me against ever
paying blackmail. ‘There’s nothing so hungry


100 THE MYSTERY IN THE RITSMORE
as hush money,’ he used to say. ‘Once you start
paying it, you never can stop.’ What do you ad-
vise? Ought I to pay them and get the letters
back? That would keep them quiet until after
I was married.”
“ Certainly not,” cried Miss Blair, with flash-
ing eyes. “ Don’t pay them a single cent. Mr.
Rush and I will go up there this very afternoon
and get those letters back. Do you know where
he keeps them? ”
“ He took them from his wallet.”
“Good!” cried Miss Blair; “now run along
and keep your engagement to meet Count Guido
and dry your pretty eyes. I give you my prom-
ise that we will recover those letters and without
the letters they will be powerless.”
“ Oh, if you only can I’ll be so grateful,”
breathed the girl.
Wondering what inspiration had come to his
co-worker when she had promised so rashly that
she would get the letters, Rush escorted the heir-
ess to the elevator and returned once more to
Miss Blair’s apartment, eager to learn what she
. had in mind.
“ How do you expect to get the letters? The


MISS DUSHANE’S PLIGHT 101
girl is telling the truth, isn’t she? You don’t
think it is her child? ”
In his excitement over the situation he jum-
bled all his questions together.
“ Of course it isn’t her child,” Anne Blair an-
swered. “I have no plan yet for getting the
letters, but we’ve got to get them. Intelligence
always wins and if you and I together are not
more intelligent than an ex-gardener and his
servant wife, I’ll be greatly astonished. Now,
run along and let me think it out alone. You
can go up there with me this afternoon, can’t
you?”
“ I would not consent to your going without
me,” replied Rush with dignity. “Evidently
that man is a dangerous sort of person and I
would not consent to your seeing him alone.”
“ Oh, indeed,” said Anne, her eyes sparkling
mischievously. “ Sir, don’t you realize that
times have changed, that the modern up-to-date
young woman is perfectly capable of looking out
for herself? ”
“I suppose she thinks so,” retorted Rush
crossly.
“ But what if Mr. Hardy comes home? ” she


102 THE MYSTERY IN THE RITSMORE
taunted him. “ You will not have your after-
noon free. You can't go then.”
“ Hardy or no Hardy,” he cried, “ you are not
going up there alone, but I don’t expect Mr.
Hardy back until late this afternoon or this
evening.”
For once, though, Rush was wrong in his cal-
culations: When he returned to his own apart-
ments he found Harrison Hardy there, seated at
his desk, looking old and gray and tired, as
though he might have spent a sleepless night.
When Rush entered he was sitting with his head
on his hands as if in deep meditation, but he
aroused himself as his secretary entered.
“Did a letter come?” he asked; “a letter
from Grundy? ”
“Yes,” said Rush, taking it from his pocket,
where he had put it for safe-keeping. “ Here it
is. I have decoded it. It is about the Ordinoff
case.”
“ Give it to me,” demanded Hardy, snatching
it from his hand and scanning it eagerly, as Rush
watched his face to see if his remark about the
Ordinoff case had hit the target.
“Bah,” cried Hardy, crumpling the letter as


MISS DUSHANE’S PLIGHT 103
he finished reading it. “ He’s wrong. It must
have been Treptikofi’s men who got the money.
Who else could it have been? ”
A sudden daring came to Rush. Like the
well-trained and diplomatic secretary that he
was, he never hitherto had sought for more in-
formation than Harrison Hardy had seen fit to
volunteer, but now, keyed up by his interest in
solving the mystery of the death Of the beautiful
young Russian, he decided to try if he could not
extract some more information about her.
“You mean the two millions that vanished
when Miss Ordinoff was murdered, of course? "
he said.
“ Huh! What!” growled his employer, striv-
ing to regain his self-control and to assume his
most bearish manner. “ What are you talking
about?”
“ You will recall,” said Rush, speaking calmly,
though inwardly in a panic of trepidation, “ that
you already told me of the missing funds and I
also heard you discussing the case with the
Mayor.”
“ Well, what of it? ”
“In spite of Hugh Smith’s discovery that a


104 THE MYSTERY IN THE RITSMORE
waiter committed the crime,” Rush went on
bravely, “ there are many things about the case
that convinced me and a young woman of my
acquaintance who became interested in the case
that it was something more than a mere murder
for robbery."
“ A young woman,” snorted Harrison Hardy.
“ What young woman? ”
“ Miss Blair, Miss Anne Blair, a girl who lives
here in the hotel. She has a wonderfully logical
mind. She was in the Le Barons’ room right
after the body was found. She heard Mrs. Le
Baron’s screams and came in. She said right
away that it was a waiter’s crime or

“ Or what? ” asked Harrison Hardy curiously,
as his secretary hesitated.
“ Or that the crime was committed by some
one posing as a waiter. It is her opinion that it
was the result of some sort of plot. She really
has wonderful powers of deduction. Last night
she met for the first time Ruthina Dushane. She
scented that the girl was in some sort of deep
trouble and asked her if Vshe could not be of as-
sistance to her. This morning Miss Dushane
came to see her and she has just finished telling


MISS DUSHANE’S PLIGHT 105
us of a most audacious attempt to blackmail her
out of a hundred thousand dollars.”
“A hundred thousand dollars," repeated
Hardy, always interested when money was
mentioned. “ Whom did you say this girl
was? ”
“ Ruthina Dushane—old Torn Dushane’s
daughter.”
“ Tell me all about it,” demanded Hardy, lis-
tening intently as his secretary repeated the
amazing tale that the heiress had just related.
“ That’s queer, damned queer,” Hardy mut-
tered half to himself, as Rush ended his story.
"A hundred thousand dollars was paid into Miss
Dushane’s account in the Trust Company last
week for the sale of the Old Torn mine proper-
ties. I wonder how they came to ask for that
amount. Look here, Rush, you’d better get
Hugh Smith in on this case right away."
Quickly Rush protested that such a proceeding
was not to be thought of. His knowledge of and
connection with the case, he explained, was quite
incidental, having been brought about wholly
through his friendship with Miss Blair.
" I really should not have spoken of the matter


106 THE MYSTERY IN THE RITSMORE
even to you,” he insisted. “ Miss Dushane told
her troubles to Miss Blair just as one girl to an-
other and Miss Blair volunteered to get the let-
ters back.”
“It’s no case for a woman to handle,” he
growled. “ There’s brains somewhere behind
this plot against the Dushane girl. How would
a kennel keeper up in Westchester be posted on
the girl's bank account? How would he know
the amount of cash she had on hand? Tell me
that? ”
“ Caspar Dietz used to be the Dushane gar-
dener," suggested Rush. “ He may have had a
spy planted in the Dushane home, one of the
servants who kept him posted on Miss Dushane’s
affairs, possibly her maid.”
“ That’s only guessing,” he snorted. “ Hugh
Smith could get those letters better than any girl
could. How’s she going to get them?”
“ I don’t know. She asked me if I would
motor up to Caspar Dietz’s place with her this
afternoon.”
“ Go, by all means,” Hardy said, “and see if
you can learn how the man kept tabs on her bank
account.”


MISS DUSHANE’S PLIGHT 107
As Rush turned happily away, rejoicing that
he had arranged so easily to be free to aCcom-
pany Miss Blair on her trip, the telephone in the
apartment rang and he hastened to answer it. It
was Mr. Grundy.
“ Is Mr. Hardy there? ” he asked, anxiety in
his tones.
“ Yes, just a minute,” the secretary answered,
summoning his employer.
Amazedly he listened to the conversation that
followed, interpreting it as far as one-half the
sentences permitted.
“ What’s that? Impossible for Treptikofi and
his agents to be involved. I tell you it must
have been them. No one else knew she was
coming to get the money. What’s that? De-
partment of Justice men have been shadowing
them all for days. What’s that? Louder. I
can’t hear you. What’s that? You’ve seen re-
ports covering the activities of all five of them
for the last week. They have been watched day
and night.”
Harrison Hardy, gray-faced and trembling,
hung up the ’phone, as Rush stood there watch-
ing him. He staggered weakly to a chair and


1 10 THE MYSTERY IN THE RITSMORE
sation with his employer and of his advice that
Hugh Smith be called in to handle the case.
“ I agree with Mr. Hardy," said the girl, “ that
some person of brains planned this blackmailing
plot. Servants don’t think in such large sums of
money. If it were Caspar’s’ own idea he would
have asked for a few thousands. When we find
the real criminal—if we do—I am confident that
it will be some one familiar with what goes on in
the financial district, some one who knew of this
money having been paid over to Miss Du-
shane.”
“I wonder,” said Rush thoughtfully, “ if it.
could be some one in Mr. Hardy’s office.”
“It might be. Whoever contrived the plot
probably selected Miss Dushane for a victim and
then sought out former employees of the family
to discover some method of attack. The man
back of all this is certainly a shrewd reader of
human nature. He realized. that only in one
way could Miss Dushane be reached, by a bold
malicious effort to blacken her reputation, the
one thing that she has treasured most. Those
letters of hers are the key to the whole situation.
No thick-witted gardener would ever have had


THE JOKE ON CASPAR DIETZ III
imagination enough to think Of putting them to
such a purpose. The idea of substituting a child
for her pet dog is as ingenious as it is dastardly.
But once we get those letters away from Caspar
Dietz the plot is bound to fail.”
“ If we get them,” said Rush dubiously.
“ We must get them,” cried his companion.
“ We must.”
“ But how? He probably guards them with
the utmost care.”
“I have a plan. Let me do all the talking
when we get there.” .
“ You’re not going to try anything desperate?”
he asked in alarm.
“ Of course not, silly,” she answered, laughing.
“ I’m going to match my wits against his, that’s
all.”
She gave him no further hint of what she had
in mind, but her companion nevertheless felt
thankful that he had taken the precaution to slip
a loaded automatic into his pocket before they
started out. From all that he had learned about
the character of Caspar Dietz he felt sure that
they would find the man a desperate and deter-
mined criminal, and it was his intention tO see


l 12 THE MYSTERY IN THE RITSMORE
that Miss Blair’s impetuous desire to save Ruth-
ina Dushane did not lead her into any personal
danger. As they journeyed northward, inter-
estedly discussing the case, it came out that Miss
Blair had called at Miss Dushane’s home in the
interval between her visit to the hotel and the
time they began their journey, although she did
not confide in her companion what had been the
object of her call.
“ She only wrote Dietz three letters alto-
gether,” she announced. “We must make cer—
tain that we get all three of the letters.”
They had little difficulty in locating Dietz’s
home, an unpretentious frame house much in
need of paint, that was located about half a mile
from one of Westchester’s many pretty little vil-
lages. It stood a little way back from the main
road, but there was a rudely lettered board—
“ C. DIETZ—Dogs Bearded—Puppies for Sale ”
that guided them to the place. An Airedale
puppy tied to a tree in the front yard was yelping
dismally as they drove up and a vociferous
chorus of dogs of all degree dashed forward to
proclaim their arrival. Although the yard, like
the house, had about it an air of neglect, near


i 14 THE MYSTERY IN THE RITSMORE
two. He was blond, with big blue eyes—eyes
that with no great stretch of the imagination
might be said to resemble those of Ruthina Du—
shane.
“ No, we don’t want no pictures taken,” the
woman was saying, her air of politeness quickly
vanishing as she discovered the visitors had not
come to'buy, when a man came slouching around
the corner of the house. He was in his shirt-
sleeves, squat, broad-shouldered, with a stolid,
almost vacuous face. He walked with the stodgy
tread of men who work in the soil.
“ What is it, Sophie? ” he asked, almost inhos-
pitably, his thick gutturals betraying his foreign
origin.
“These people here,” said his wife hostilely,
“ want to make pictures of our dogs. I told
them we didn’t want none.”
Caspar Dietz eyed the visitors silently for a
moment and then looked thoughtfully at the
camera Miss Blair was carrying. It was a good-
sized one, with a tripod.
“ You take dog pictures? ” he asked.
“ Yes,” said Miss Blair. “ Pictures of puppies
are my specialty.”


THE JOKE ON CASPAR DIETZ 115
“ You have your camera there, yes? ”
“ Here it is.”
“ You take pictures Of other things, too,
maybe.”
“ Of course,” replied the girl.
To Rush, watching her closely and wondering
what was the coup she was planning, it was evi-
dent from the sparkle in her eye that things were
going to her satisfaction, but he puzzled in vain
to discover her motive.
“I can photograph anything,” she repeated.
The man studied her for a moment without
speaking, a troubled expression coming into his
face as if he were debating something with him-
self.
“ Sophie,” he said, turning sharply to his wife,
“go into the house.” As she obeyed him he
came closer to Miss Blair and spoke again, this
time almost in a whisper.
“ Can you photograph writings—letters—just
like they are? ”
“ Certainly.”
“ How much would you charge to make pic-
tures of some letters?”
“ How many are there to be photographed? ”


116 THE MYSTERY IN THE RITSMORE
“ Three letters.”
All at once his companion’s clever scheme for
getting hold of Ruthina Dushane’s letters dawned
on Rush and he looked with new admiration and
respect on Anne Blair. Of course, he under-
stood now what her idea was. She had figured
it out that before the man made any use of the
documents he might want to have them photo-
graphed. She had reasoned that the sight of
the camera would naturally suggest such a pro-
ceeding to him. But how, he wondered, did she
hope to escape with the letters even if she should
succeed in getting them into her hands? He
looked anxiously at the car and noticed with sat-
isfaction that she had taken the precaution to
leave the engine running. He felt again in his
pocket to make sure that his automatic was
within easy reach. It was not to be expected
that Caspar would surrender the papers without
a struggle. If Miss Blair should seize them and
make a dash for the car he was determined to
block the man’s passage until she had made her
escape with them. After all, what were Ruthina
Dushane’s letters to him? It was Anne Blair’s
safety that concerned him most.


THE JOKE ON CASPAR DIETZ 117
“ How many copies of each letter would you
wish?”
Caspar debated Miss Blair’s question mentally
for a moment before he answered her.
“ Two copies of each letter—that would be six
pictures.”
“ Fifty cents apiece,” she answered promptly.
“ That would be three dollars for the lot.”
Still the man seemed suspicious and doubtful,
unable quite to make up his mind.
“Would you have to take the letters away
with you? ” he inquired.
“No, indeed. I can photograph them here
right in front of your eyes. I’ll bring you the
prints to-morrow and you can have the plates,
too, so that no more copies can be made.”
Pretending to play with the dogs that romped
about the lawn Rush began edging nearer and
nearer to where Miss Blair was standing. He
was anticipating that she might endeavor to
snatch the letters from Caspar the moment he
exhibited them and he wanted to be where he
could lend a hand at once. Slowly Caspar drew
forth his wallet and with deliberation brought
out three letters without envelopes,—-letters that


118 THE MYSTERY IN THE RITSMORE
both Miss Blair and Rush eyed with wild desire
for possession springing up within them.
“We’ll have to pin them up against the side
of the house in the sun,” said Miss Blair, setting
up her camera on its tripod. “ Can you get me
some tacks or some pins? "
If she had been expecting him to entrust the
letters to her while he went for the pins her ruse
failed, for tightly clutching the letters in his
hand he vanished into the house, to return a mo-
ment later with a paper of pins. Standing close
beside Miss Blair he handed her the pins and the
three letters. Though Rush’s nerves were in a
stateof high tension Miss Blair seemed as calm
as ever, the only indication of nervousness lying
in the fact that just as she was about to pin up
the letters she dropped the pins. Quickly Cas-
par stooped and picked them up, standing guard
over the letters after they were in place as the
girl moved off to the camera and adjusted it.
There came a click from the instrument.
“ That’s all,” said Miss Blair.
Hastily old Caspar tore down the letters and
folding them up restored them to his wallet with
apparent relief.


THE JOKE ON CASPAR DIETZ 119
“I pay you tO-morrow when you bring the
prints,” he said.
“ Certainly. That will be all right,” said Miss
Blair pleasantly, folding up the tripod and plac-
ing it with the camera in the car. As she did so
she motioned for Rush to get into the car.
Puzzled beyond measure that she had made no
effort to retain the letters in her possession, he
obeyed her. Climbing in beside him, she waved
her hand to Caspar Dietz, and Starting the car,
drove steadily but speedily away, glancing back
as they turned the corner to look at the ex-
gardener, who still stood there, looking after
them.
“It worked,” she cried gaily, as soon as they
were safely out of sight from the house. “I
just knew it would.”
“ I don’t understand,” said Rush in perplexity.
“ Even if you have photographic copies of those
letters, what good will they do? He still has the
originals safe in his wallet. As long as they are
in his possession Miss Dushane is in danger.
What good will your photographs do? ”
“ I didn’t take any photographs,” she an-
swered with a merry laugh. “ That’s where the


120 THE MYSTERY IN THE RITSMORE
"T_:_l"__."

joke on old Caspar comes in. I only took the
letters.”
Steering the car with one hand, with the other
she reached into a pocket of her sweater and
drew forth some papers.
“ Look,” she directed.
Wonderingly Rush hastened to examine them
and to his amazement discovered that they ap-
parently were the identical letters that he had
seen Dietz restore to his wallet only a moment
before.
“ How on earth did you manage to keep
them?” he cried excitedly. “ I would swear I
saw him put them back in his pocket.”
“ Not these letters,” she laughed. “ The trou-
ble with you—and with old Caspar, too—is that
neither of you have trained yourselves to be ac-
curate observers.”
“ Don’t tease,” he said. “ Do please explain.
Are these really Ruthina Dushane’s letters ?"’
“ Of course they are. I’ll tell you all about it.
After you and Miss Dushane left me this morn-
ing I sat and thought and thought until I had
devised a plan to recover them.
a problem in algebra.
It was just like
It was making my brain


THE JOKE ON CASPAR DIETZ 121
think what Caspar Dietz’s brain would do under
certain circumstances. The brain of a gardener,
a servant, is not apt to be accustomed to complex
thought processes. It was likely to respond, I
felt sure, to the simplest sort of suggestion. I
reasoned that the sight of a camera would sug-
gest to him the idea of having his precious letters
photographed. The only real chance of my fail-
ing lay in the possibility that he might have had
them photographed before we got there.”
“But that doesn’t explain how you got the
letters away from him without arousing his sus-
picions.”
“ When the camera idea came to me I went to
Ruthina Dushane’s apartment to see her and we
talked it over. She told me that there were only
three of the letters. I had her write three more,
word for word just like the others as nearly as
she could remember them. They were on the
same letter paper. The only change was that
wherever she referred to ‘my darling’ Or ‘ my
Dickie,’ we carefully inserted the word ‘dog.’
That made them perfectly innocuous.”
“ That was a wonderful idea,” exclaimed Rush
warmly.


122 THE MYSTERY IN THE RITSMORE
“And you, you stupid,” Miss Blair went on
mockingly, “never noticed what I did when I
dropped the paper of pins.”
“ I supposed you dropped them from nervous-
ness.”
“ Nothing of the sort. That was part of my
plan. It is the sort of trick the magicians use to
divert the attention. As Caspar stooped to‘pick
up the pins I substituted my letters for his, put-
ting his in my pocket.”
“ And it was the harmless letters you photo-
graphed? ”
“ I didn’t even photograph them. What was
the use? I merely clicked the shutter. But just
imagine old Caspar's wrath the next time he
reads over those letters and discovers that he has
been tricked and that he no longer has any let-
ters that will serve his wicked purpose.”
“ But suppose he had discovered the change
while you were there,” cried Rush with a shud-
der, overwhelmed by a sudden realization of the
peril she had faced. “He might have tried to
murder you. Anne,” he cried, in his excitement
calling her by name for the first time in their
brief acquaintance, yet utterly unaware that he


THE JOKE ON CASPAR DIETZ 123
had done so, “Anne, you mustn’t take such
chances. He is a powerful brute. If he had
caught you changing those letters he might have
attacked you before I could have interfered.
You must not take such chances. I can’t permit
it.”
She did not seem in the least to resent his
masterful air of authority, perhaps because she
was still so elated over the successful outcome of
her venture.
“ There wasn’t the slightest danger,” she an-
swered laughingly. “ Caspar has a single-track
mind. He was too busy with his suspicions of
me to keep his eye on the text of the letters.
Even if he had glanced at them the slight change
in the wording would have escaped his no-
tice.”
“ But he might have noticed it,” protested
Rush.
“Weren’t you there to protect me?” she
scoffed. “Anyhow, we have the letters and
that’s enough. But, say, did you notice the
flower bed? ”
“Indeed I did. It seemed strangely out of
place in such ramshackle surroundings.”


124. THE MYSTERY IN THE RITSMORE
“ Of course, but didn’t you notice anything
peculiar about it? ”
“No-o-o,” said Rush thoughtfully, “I can’t
say that I did. I recall that it was a bed of
pansies.”
“ Look here, Mr. john Rush,” she said with
mock severity, “if you and I are to be successful
as collaborators in solving mysteries, you must
learn to observe more accurately. Sometimes it
is the little things that give the biggest clues.
The centre of that flower bed was made up en-
tirely of black pansies.”
“Why, so it was. I remember it now that
you speak of it.”
“ And,” she paused significantly, “ those black
pansies were arranged in the form of a cross.”
“ What,” he cried, “ a black cross!”
She nodded.
“Just like the black cross that was on the door
where Olga Ordinofi’s body was found? ”
Once more she nodded.
“ You don’t think, do you,” he said excitedly,
“ that there can be any possible connection be-
tween the two cases? ”
“I don’t know,” she answered soberly. “It


THE JOKE ON CASPAR DIETZ 125
seems hardly possible. It is never safe to jump
to conclusions. It may be that it is just a mean-
ingless coincidence and yet ”
She hesitated and the wrinkle between her
brows that Rush had noticed before when she
was concentrating, warned him to be silent and
let her think it out for herself.
“ There are certain features in both cases,” she

went on presently, “ that have a strange parallel.
Both crimes involve large sums of money. In
both the obvious principal seems to be a person
of minor intelligence—a servant. Yet both cases
bear evidence of having been plotted with care
by some shrewd, intelligent person. And then
there is that black cross appearing so strangely
in both.”
Vainly the two of them racked their brains in
an attempt to trace some connection between the
two cases but with little success, until they
paused in their journey to the Ritsmore tO de-
liver the recovered letters tO the grateful Du-
shane heiress. Her exuberant delight over the
removal of the menace that had threatened her
happiness and her approaching nuptials seemed
to have little effect on Anne Blair, who made


126 THE MYSTERY IN THE RITSMORE
light of the role she had played. Manifestly her
interest was in solving the problem rather than
in Ruthina Dushane herself and as quickly as
they could do so with politeness they made their
adieux.
“There’s something else,” said Rush, “ that
links the two cases together. The money that
vanished in the Ordinoff case seems to have
come from Harrison Hardy, and Ruthina Du-
shane’s money is in his Trust Company.”
“We must get Mr. Hardy to confide in us,”
said Anne. “ We must make him tell us every-
thing.”
“ Yes,” agreed Rush dubiously, “ if we can.”


CHAPTER VIII
A SHOCK FOR HARRISON HARDY
TRIUMPHANT though he felt over the success-
ful outcome Of their Westchester journey, to
John Rush none the less came the guilty feeling
of duties neglected as he bade Anne Blair
good-by and hastened to Mr. Hardy’s apartment.
It was the first time that he had permitted the
interests of others to encroach on time that
properly belonged to his employer and he was
half-expecting some sarcastic comment on his
long absence.
As he softly opened the door, however, the
spectacle before him gave him a distinct shock.
Harrison Hardy was sitting in almost the same
place as Rush had left him hours before, but a
great change seemed to have come over the
financier. Ordinarily he sat erect, his shoulders
squared back, his muscles taut, his chin thrust
aggressively forward, as if challenging the whole
World. Now he seemed all at once to have


128 THE MYSTERY IN THE RITSMORE
turned into an old, old man. His shoulders
sagged weakly, his head was resting wearin on
his hands and he appeared crumpled down as if
his strength had gone from him.
The eyes that he turned toward Rush as he
opened the door, ordinarily keen, cold and pierc-
ing—eyes before which even daring Wall Street
quailed and gave up its innermost secrets—now
seemed dim and lustreless. His cheeks, for the
most part ruddy, were gray and bloodless and
even his voice lacked that dominant note it cus-
tomarily carried.
“ Well? ”
Amazed at the transformation in his employer,
Rush stood silent,- puzzling to account for the
great change. What could have happened?
Was he ill? Was he on the Verge of a mental or
physical breakdown?
“ Well? ” snapped Mr. Hardy, with the queru-
lous, impatient irritation of an invalid, “ what
happened? Did your wonder-woman get the
letters back—the Dushane girl’s letters?”
“ Of course she did,” the secretary answered
proudly.
“ What I ”


A SHOCK FOR HARRISON HARDY 129
There were amazement and incredulity both in
Mr. Hardy’s exclamation. The news seemed to
have aroused him from his despondent lethargy
and when he spoke again it was with a show of
his old vigor and force.
“ Tell me about it,” he directed sharply.
“ Tell me everything. How did she get them? ”
Glad of the opportunity Rush related in full
detail the clever ruse that had been planned by
Miss Blair and the successful way in which it had
been carried out.
“ Smart,” Hardy admitted grudgingly,
“ damned smart, but she did not get at the
bottom of the plot. Who put that gardener up
to blackmailing that girl? Tell me that. That’s
the important thing to find out.”
“ I have to admit,” his secretary replied, “ that
that part of the problem still puzzles Miss Blair.
She knows, of course, that there must be some
one else concerned, some one with brains, behind
old Caspar.”
“ Of course there is,” cried Hardy, all at once
breaking forth into a wild tirade. “ Of course
there is some one who plotted this crime. They
are all around us—plotters, plotters, plotters—


130 THE MYSTERY IN THE RITSMORE
trying to take our money away from us. Things
are in a desperate state all over the world. This
damned Bolshevik thing is spreading like wild-
fire. The leaders of the accursed Reds, pro-
claiming their love for the fool masses, are de-
liberately planning and scheming to ruin us all.
Their agents are everywhere threatening us and
our money. The police are powerless to protect
us. The government is powerless. The sol-
diers can’t be depended on to shoot these pirates
and robbers down. I saw it coming. These
desperate, daring criminal leaders have their
spies all about us, laying plans and schemes to
take our wealth from us and leave us helpless.
I warned Mayor Jackson of what was coming
and he wouldn’t believe me. I told them in
Washington and they wouldn’t listen. Grundy
hasn’t been able to get at the bottom of it.
Hugh Smith, clever and shrewd as he is, hasn’t
been able to solve the mystery. Whatever we
do, wherever we put our money, they find out
about it. My God, what is the world coming to?
A man’s money no longer is safe anywhere.”
Never before had Rush seen his employer in
such a panic of fear and distress. Always, even


A SHOCK FOR HARRISON HARDY 131
in great financial crises, Harrison Hardy had
shown himself even to his secretary as a man Of
steel, bending or breaking ruthlessly all who got
in his path, meeting mishaps with equanimity,
showing neither mercy nor fear toward his ene-
mies, measuring everything and everybody about
him in terms of money. Always he had seemed
utterly cold, self-reliant and fearless, always firm
in the confidence that his god, money, money,
money, was everything, would buy everything,
would accomplish everything.
Like most other financiers, Rush knew, Hardy
had viewed with mild alarm the collapse of the
established order in Russia. He had watched,
with annoyance at the impotence of governments
to check it, the spread of radical new ideas
throughout the civilized world. He had heartily
approved of the suppression of Socialistic papers
during the war period and had rejoiced each time
that an agitator received a twenty-year sentence.
But familiar as Rush was with Mr. Hardy’s views
on these subjects, he could not account for this
outburst. There seemed to be something dis-
tinctly personal in his terror, as if he felt the
bloody hand of Bolshevism already at his throat,


132 THE MYSTERY IN THE RITSMORE
its horrible might already wresting away from
him his closely guarded treasure.
“Mr. Hardy,” he said, as a new inspiration
came to him, “why don’t you talk over your
problem with Miss Blair?”
“ Eh, what’s that—Miss Blair? ” said Mr.
Hardy, caught up short in his violent eruption.
“ Miss Blair? ”
“ Miss Blair—the young woman who got the
Dushane letters back. She has wonderful intui-
tion and really splendid deductive faculties. You
say both Mr. Grundy and Hugh Smith have
failed. Why don’t you enlist her aid in solving
the Ordinoff mystery? ”
“ I said nothing about the Ordinofi case,”
came the sharp response.
“I know you didn’t, but we know—that is—
Miss Blair has learned a lot about that case al~
ready. She recognized at once that it was not
merely a murder for robbery. She knew it was
the result of a plot.”
“ What made her think that? ”
Harrison Hardy seemed now quite himself
again. His manner became once more domi-
nant and his voice was curt and incisive.


A SHOCK FOR HARRISON HARDY 133
“ I really don’t know,” stammered Rush, over-
whelmed at his own temerity in having men-
tioned the matter. “ She just reasoned it out, I
guess.”
“ But Smith proved that it was the waiter who
murdered the girl? "
“ Miss Blair does not accept his explanation of
how the crime occurred. Two minutes after
she saw the body she suggested that it was a
waiter’s crime, but right from the start she was
convinced that some one else had planned the
murder and that the waiter was only a tool.”
“ Humph,” ejaculated Mr. Hardy. “ Does she
know I knew the Ordinoff girl? ”
“ I told her that you at least knew the girl by
name.” '
“ I’ll see her,” said Hardy. “ Where does she
live? Can you get hold Of her?”
“ She lives right here in the hotel.”
“ Good! Tell her to come down here at
once.”
Jubilantly Rush hastened to the ’phone to call
Miss Blair. He felt that everything was going
satisfactorily. It had been his companion’s sug-
gestion that they try to get from Mr. Hardy


134 THE MYSTERY IN THE RITSMORE
whatever information he had about Miss Ordi-
noff. He felt quite certain that Anne would
welcome the opportunity for meeting Mr. Hardy
and he confidently anticipated that she would be
able to extract from Hardy everything he knew
about it, but as he turned away from the ’phone
he was disappointed and crestfallen. To his
great astonishment Miss Blair had firmly and
unequivocally declined to come down to the
Hardy apartment.
“If Mr. Hardy wishes to see me,” she had
said, “I am going to be at home all evening.
Bring him to my apartment.”
“ But Mr. Hardy —” he had begun to pro-
test.
“No buts about it,” she had interrupted.
“ The only way he can see me is to come up
here.”
With trepidation he had delivered her mes-
sage, wondering how his employer would receive
it. Most persons to whom such an invitation
had been conveyed from Harrison Hardy would
have hastened to accept it. The unconvention-
ality of her coming to a man’s apartment, he
knew, could have had nothing to do with it.


A SHOCK FOR HARRISON HARDY 135
There was no mock modesty about her. In fact,
if anything, she was too little given to thinking
Of appearances.
“ Clever girl that,” was Hardy’s only comment
when his secretary made his report of her reply,
although it seemed to Rush that there was a
gleam of approbation in his eyes. “Does she
live alone? ”
“ Oh, no, there’s some sort of a female relative
-—-an aunt, I think, who chaperones her.”
“ All right,” said Hardy. “ We’ll have dinner
first and then we’ll go to see the wonder-
woman.”
His mood of depression and fear seemed to I
have been entirely dispelled, or at least van-
quished by his self-control. Throughout the
meal he talked in his customary manner, discuss-
ing various details of business with Rush com—
posedly, with no reference to the mysterious
problems that had so upset him. Not until they
had finished their coffee did he refer to their
plans again.
“ Now,” he said whimsically, as they got up
from the table, “Mahomet goes to the moun-
tain.”


136 THE MYSTERY IN THE RITSMORE
Never, in Rush’s opinion, had he seen Anne
Blair look so wonderful as she did in the evening
gown of black and yellow in which she received
them. The combination of colors seemed to en-
hance her charms more than any other costume
in which he had seen her garbed. She wore her
dark hair piled high on her shapely head and was
without jewels except for a single strand of
pearls. Entirely self-possessed as she invariably
was, she greeted Mr. Hardy as Rush presented
him with a warm cordiality that bore no trace of
awe at his millions and presented them both to
her aunt, Mrs. Elverson.
“ Now, auntie,” she said, as soon as introduc-
tions were over, “ I have some important busi-
ness to talk over with these gentlemen, so run
along to your reading.”
With evident relief the chaperon withdrew
and a moment of silence ensued, during which
Anne Blair and Harrison Hardy studied each
other appraisingly. To John Rush, as he looked
on, feasting his hungry eyes on Anne’s radiant
beauty, came a vague sensation of alarm. He
became all at once painfully conscious of a novel
and most unwelcome feeling,-—a feeling that he


A SHOCK FOR HARRISON HARDY 137
was an intruder, a mere spectator at the meet-
ing of two kindred spirits. In a spasm' of dis-
trust he began to reproach himself for having
brought the two of them together. His rapidly
growing attachment for this wonderful girl was
fast crystallizing, almost without his having real-
ized it, into love, soul-chaining, thought-absorb-
ing love, bringing with it all love’s train of
doubts and fears.
What if Harrison Hardy should fall in love
with Anne!
The very suggestion of the idea filled him with
alarm. Harrison Hardy, seen in the intimate
aspect with which his secretary beheld him, was
a Juggernaut, ruthlessly crushing all that stood
in his path. Although, so far as he knew, women
had played small part in the life or thoughts of
his employer, he well knew that if ever a time
should come when the little archer at last
reached Mr. Hardy’s heart, he would be a per-
sistent and masterful wooer.
And he, John Rush, a mere private secretary,
what had he to Offer a woman, in comparison
with the largesse Harrison Hardy could bestow
on her? Birth and breeding, yes—a good edu-


138 THE MYSTERY IN THE RITSMORE
cation, yes—but what were they compared to the
unbounded wealth and dominant position Mr.
Hardy commanded? In an agony of suspicious
jealousy, the hasty analysis he made of himself
brought him only a sense of abasement and un-
worthiness. Hardy had wealth, position, power,
a c0mmanding presence. Harrison Hardy’s wife
would have costly jewels, a yacht, unquestioned
social position, butlers, maids, luxuries, anything,
everything that money could procure.
As for himself, only youth was in his favor,
and, he woefully admitted to himself, a wasted
youth. He saw clearly, perhaps for the first
time, that for years he had been a mere trifler,
choosing the easy, futile life of a private secre-
tary that he might enjoy the luxuries of wealth
without having earned them by the right of
work, without having even sought to utilize his
natural capabilities, content, until now, to be a
mere drifter, a sort of upper servant.
Determinedly he resolved that he would re-
sign his position at once and would set about
forthwith making a place of his own in the world,
earning the wherewithal to be his own master.
It might be years and years before he could gain


140 THE MYSTERY IN THE RITSMORE
her. In those eyes, those wonderful dark eyes,
there was no guile. Anne Blair, he vowed to
himself, was a woman to be trusted to the ends
of the earth.
But the silence of the two was getting on his
nerves. Why didn’t they say something? Why
didn’t they do something? He racked his brain
for something to say, some way of starting the
conversation, but Mr. Hardy saved him from the
eflort.
“ Well, Miss Blair,” he said quietly, “ are you
going to tell me what you know about the Or-
dinoflf matter? ”
' There was in his voice, quiet and even though
it was, that dominant note of demand that in-
sisted on compliance, a subtle insistence that
even strong men, leaders in finance and business,
dared not attempt to withstand, and yet Anne
Blair merely smiled and shook her head.
“Well, Miss Blair,” he repeated, with just a
trace more of stress in his tones.
“ You’re not gallant,” she protested mockingly.
“ You should have let me have my innings first.
But I’ll make a bargain with you. I will tell you
everything you wish to know, but first I want to


A SHOCK FOR HARRISON HARDY 141
hear your story,—the whole story,” she added
significantly.
“ That’s hardly fair,” Mr. Hardy began. ,
“ Oh, yes, it is,” she insisted, looking him full
in the eye. “ Before I tell you anything I’ve got
tO have you tell what Miss Ordinofi was doing in
your rooms at half-past six the evening she was
murdered.”
“ My God,” gasped Hardy, half rising in his
chair, his face turning ashen with fright and
terror. “ Who are you? How do you know
about her having been there? ”


CHAPTER IX
THE MISSING TWO MILLIONS
“IS it a bargain?” cried Anne, her dark eyes
flashing with excitement as she watched with
obvious amusement the consternation with which
the financier had heard the question she had put
to him.
Rush, recalled from his processes of self-ex-
amination, listened in amazement, trying as he
did so to make up a schedule of his own move-
ments on the evening of the murder. It did not
seem possible that Olga Ordinofi could have
visited his employer in his apartment without
his knowledge. He would have been ready to
swear that he had been with Harrison Hardy _
practically all afternoon and evening.
“ For God’s sake,” Hardy was saying, “ don’t
keep me in suspense. Tell me how you learned
about that girl’s visit and I’ll tell you anything
else you want to know.”
“I am afraid,” said Anne calmly, “that you


'v THE MISSING TWO MILLIONS 145
get this money from you, and that at six-thirty
that evening she was in your apartment? Now
why did you give her that money? ”
“ Your deductions are absurd,” said Mr. Hardy
testily. “There is no proof whatever that that
girl was in my apartment.”
“ But you admit it,” persisted Anne.
“ I tell you it cannot be proven. Of course I
don't admit it.”
“ But it is true,” the girl challenged him.
He studied her face line by line for a moment
before he answered, manifestly struggling all the
while to keep himself in hand. Never in all his
long career of battle had he faced a similar situa-
tion. Always in the stormy crises he had
weathered, his foes and challengers had been
strong men, ruthless money machines like him-
? self. With them he knew how to deal. He
could bully them, crush them into submission,
make them do things his way. But here he was
facing a slip Of a girl, a calm, self-possessed,
extraordinarily intelligent young woman with a
persistence that equalled his own. He wondered
if he dared trust her, if he dared tell her every-
thing. What a wonderful ally she would make!


146 THE MYSTERY IN THE RITSMORE
Never in his whole life had he absolutely trusted
any one or given them his entire confidence. Al-
ways he had played a lone hand. Anne Blair, in
asking his confidence, was making a far greater
demand than she realized. It was his growing
admiration for her brilliant mentality that finally
decided him.
She mistook his hesitation in answering her
for an effort on his part to thwart her plans.
She knew the type of man he was, and realizing
that above all else the thing he dreaded was pub-
licity, tried new tactics.
“ Of course,” she said, “ if you will not admit'
it, there is nothing for me to do but to tell the
police where the girl was that evening.”
“ My God,” he cried, in panic at the thought.
“You mustn’t do that. I didn’t kill the girl.
Her murder was a terrible blow to me. It upset
all my plans. I’m as eager as you are to learn
who planned her murder."
“ Then,” said Anne calmly, “ answer my ques-
tions.”
His features relaxed and he made a quick
gesture of resignation, defeat, submission,—
which it was Rush found it hard to determine.


THE MISSING TWO MILLIONS 147
“Very well,” he said quietly. “ I’ll tell you
everything. Since you know so much, perhaps
when I have told my story you can tell me where
my two millions have gone and who got them.”
“ Perhaps,” said the girl, “perhaps the three
of us together "—and Rush threw her a quick
glance Of gratitude for including him—“ may be
able to find the solution.”
“ Like most American financiers,” began Har-
rison Hardy, “ when the great war began I
turned my attention to Russia, laying extensive
plans there for development after the war. With
the severance of trade relations with Germany
Russia’s vast resources seemed ready to dr0p into
America’s lap. My plans were well under way
and much capital had been already invested there
when the collapse of the Imperial Russian Gov-
ernment worked havoc with our project. The
rise to power of these accursed Bolsheviki spelled
ruin and absolute loss for all our investments
there.
“ The only salvation for American capital in-
vested in Russia lay, and still lies, in my opinion,
in the overthrow of this mob-rule and the prompt
reéstablishment of a strong centralized govern;


THE MISSING TWO MILLIONS 149
“ The carrier selected for the first installment
of funds to be sent over was this Olga Ordinoff.
Her family always have been loyal Imperialists.
Her father, a general, was murdered by the
Revolutionists. For many months she has been
living quietly in a suburb of Philadelphia, taking
no part in Russian affairs. In every respect she
seemed to be an ideal messenger. I met her per-
sonally only twice. Several weeks ago she was
introduced to me at a secret rendezvous in Phila-
delphia. At this meeting there were present
only_ my Philadelphia partner and myself. She
accepted the mission we offered her and it was
discussed in all its details. She made all the ar-
rangements for the journey herself, procuring
her own passports.
“ In accordance with our secret arrangements
she came here to the hotel the day before she
was to sail to receive final instructions and to
receive from me the funds she was to take with
her to Russia. Not more than six persons in
the whole United States knew any part of the
arrangements. No one but myself, absolutely
no One, knew all the details of the plans of her
intended departure, At six-thirty that evening,


150 THE MYSTERY IN THE RITSMORE
in accordance with our carefully made arrange-
ment, she came to my apartment, making sure
that her entrance was unobserved. I was alone
there. In her presence I placed in the false bot-
tom of a black traveling bag two million dollars
in United States gold certificates, some of it of
the five-thousand-dollar denomination, some in
one-thousand-dollar bills. There were no wit-
nesses of the transaction. I am certain that
no one saw her enter or leave my apartment,
yet within two hours she had been murdered
and the bag containing the' money had van-
ished.”
“ Where did you obtain the bag? ” asked Anne
thoughtfully. It was in her mind that the plac-
ing of an order for a traveling bag with a false
bottom by Harrison Hardy would in itself be apt
to cause comment.
“ It is one that I have had for ten years, a bag
that was prepared for another emergency,” said
Mr. Hardy, adding grimly, “ and it had been well
tested. I personally stencilled her initials on it.
It was certainly not the bag that gave the clue to
the fortune she was carrying."
“ Do you suppose,” suggested Rush, “ that the




U) - cue; ‘
o
.u
M
Q
a.
.i.
1..
i
ng sure that her entrance
Page 150.
was unobserved.”
“ She came to my apartment, mak





THE MISSING TWO MILLIONS 151
drawing Of such a large sum in gold certificates
might have attracted attention? ”
“ Certainly it would have, but the money was
gathered together several years ago. I myself
procured it from a vault to which I alone have
access.”
It came to Rush and to Anne Blair both that
this money must have been part of a secret hoard
Mr. Hardy had laid away at the very beginning
of the great war, when all Wall Street was
panic-stricken, when the Exchange had closed.
Many of the leaders of finance, always fearful for-
their hoarded wealth and unable to read the
future, had hidden away in secret vaults large
sums in cash and gold, that they might be pre-
pared for any emergency. But close as John
Rush was to his employer’s private affairs, this
was the first intimation Rush had had of Mr.
Hardy’s action and it emphasized to him how
secretive he was in the conduct of important
afIairs.
“ Why,” asked Anne, “ did you suspect Trep-
tikoff? Who is he?”
“Although it is not generally known, this
man Treptikoff is the leader of the Bolshevist


152 THE MYSTERY IN THE RITSMORE
movement in this country. He keeps entirely in
the background but manages in some mysterious
way to keep constantly in touch with the revolu-
tionary leaders in Russia. He has large sums of
money at his command and is wonderfully well
informed on what goes on here. Our first
thought —”
“ Whom do you'mean by ‘ our ’? ” interrupted
Anne.
“ Hugh Smith and Grundy. Both of them are
trusted investigators in my employ. Grundy has
been doing my work for many years and for the
last year or so I frequently have been using
Smith. He is an exceedingly clever detective
and absolutely trustworthy. As soon as I
learned of Miss Ordinoff’s death I put them both
on the track of Treptikoff. My natural suspicion
was that he had learned of our plans and had
seized the money.”
“And you’re sure it was not he? ”
“ It couldn’t have been. Grundy has learned
that for many days Treptikoff and his gang have
been under the closest surveillance by Govern-
ment employees. Ever since Washington learned
of their connection, every move they made day


THE MISSING TWO MILLIONS 153
or night has been watched and recorded. Fur-
thermore Grundy has learned that the news-
paper accounts of Miss Ordinoff’s murder greatly
excited the Treptikoff crowd and seemed to
puzzle them completely.”
“ You say there were not more than six per-
sons knew of your plan; who were the six? ”
Hardy closed his lips tightly and swallowed
hard. Replying to this question of Miss Blair’s
evidently was distasteful. It was difficult for him
always to make a confidant of any one, yet there
constantly recurred to his mind the thought that
this girl knew something about the case that he
did not. If he had adjudged her correctly he
must live up to his bargain. He must tell her
everything if he expected to get anything from
her.
“Cotesbury, my Philadelphia partner, knew
more about the plan than any one else. Dean
of the Trust Company, Graham, my Office man-
ager, a certain high official in Washington, each
knew a small part of the plan, and Hugh Smith
made certain investigations for me in connection
with it, but only Cotesbury and myself knew who
the messenger was or when she was to start.


154 THE MYSTERY IN THE RITSMORE
She was a social acquaintance of Cotesbury’s
daughter. He met her once or twice at dinner
months ago and from her conversation decided
that she was trustworthy in any effort to over-
throw the Revolutionists. His meetings with
her after that were secret. So far as we know
no one ever saw either Cotesbury or myself even
talking to Miss Ordinoff.”
Anne’s forehead wrinkled itself into three
little vertical lines. Hardy sat silent, watching
her intently, as if trying to read her mind.
“ Have you any theory,” asked Anne, after a
moment’s thought, “ as to the method by which
the money was removed from the hotel?”
“ No,” said Mr. Hardy, “ absolutely none.
There seems to be little doubt that the waiter
who killed himself was the actual murderer.
Presumably he stole the jewelry as a blind, but
what he did with that little black hand bag is a
mystery. No one saw him taking it out of the
hotel.”
“ Of course,” said Anne, as if she were think-
ing aloud, “ he was only a tool. The whole crime
was carefully planned. It would have been quite
easy for him as he emerged from the room to


156 THE MYSTERY IN THE RITSMORE
murder and match up their stories. Perhaps we
can learn something more that way.”
“An excellent idea,” said Mr. Hardy approv-
ingly.
“We’ll ask Mr. and Mrs. Le Baron—they’ll
come, won’t they, Mr. Rush? ”
“ I’ll answer for them,” he said without hesita-
tion. He knew from experience that practically
no one ever refused a dinner invitation from the
celebrated Harrison Hardy.
“ Then there’s yourself and Mr. Rush and
me——-that makes five.”
“ How about Inspector Alexander?” suggested
Rush.
“ No,” said Anne decisively. “ The police
didn’t discover a thing worth while. That’s all,
I guess, just the five of us.”
“And Hugh Smith,” added Mr. Hardy. “ That
makes six.”
“Of course,” the girl assented. “He knows
a lot about the case,” and only Rush detected the
subtle sarcasm in her tone. He knew that she
had small opinion of Smith’s ability and dis-
trusted the solution he had advanced so promptly
for the mysterious murder.


THE MISSING TWO MILLIONS 159
of helping to clear things up, had only added to
the complications of the mysteries he and Anne
Blair had determined to solve.
Whom, he wondered, did Anne suspect?
He was positive from the confident way in
which she spoke that she had evolved some
definite theory of the crime—or rather of the two
crimes and their perpetrators—but she had given
him no hint of it. Had she also, he wondered, a
theory to account for the vanishing of the
money? Were all of Mr. Hardy’s associates, he
asked himself, entirely beyond suspicion? Two
million dollars—two millions in cash—would be a
terrible temptation to most men. Think what
the possession of such a sum would mean! If
he had two millions, he would not hesitate a mo-
ment in asking Anne Blair to marry him.
Two millions! He wondered how long it
would take him to accumulate that much with
Anne as his goal. Would she be willing to wait
for him? Was Harrison Hardy, he jealously
wondered, really interested in Anne, as interested
as he had appeared to be? The very thought of
Harrison Hardy and his millions as a possible
rival filled him with a sense Of hopelessness.


160 THE MYSTERY IN THE RITSMORE
His errand accomplished, he emerged from the
station on the Forty-second Street side. It was
after midnight and the street was comparatively
deserted. Two men entering a cheap lunchroom
halfway up the block attracted his notice. There
was something vaguely familiar about the tall
figure of one of them, and the face, too, in the
momentary glimpse he had caught of it under an
electric light, seemed to be that of some one he
knew well, yet was unable to recognize.
As he came opposite the lunchroom he glanced
in at the wide window at the man whose appear-
ance had seemed so familiar. He was sitting far
back in the lunchroom but Rush recognized him
immediately. It was Meyer, the Ritsmore’s
head waiter. Rush understood now why he had
failed at first to place him. A waiter with a hat
on is hardly recognizable. He never before had
seen Meyer with his head covered, or attired
otherwise than in his immaculate linen and spike-
tail.
Smiling a little at the change it made in the
head waiter’s appearance, as he walked along, he
gave him a parting glance, and this time stopped
short with a gasp of amazement. His present


CHAPTER X
A GHOST AT THE FEAST
WHEN the hour arrived that had been set for
Harrison Hardy’s dinner John Rush was in a
state of sullen desperation, the penalty for his
rapidly growing passion for Anne Blair. Never
before had he felt so keenly the ignominious
depths of slavery in a private secretary’s position.
More firmly than ever he 'was resolved to quit
his job at the earliest opportunity and set about
making for himself some place in the world where
he would be master of his own time.
Mr. Hardy, as if with malicious intent, had con-
trived to find duties all day long that absorbed
every minute of his time, leaving him no chance
to see Anne or communicate with her. The
meeting between the head waiter and Caspar
Dietz that he had chanced upon the evening be—
fore had tO him a sinister significance. He was
positive that in it lay the clue tO the solution of
the enigma of the missing money, yet he was


164. THE MYSTERY IN THE RITSMORE
confident that it was a problem too great for him
to solve. It needed Anne’s brains.
The more he thought about it the more con-
vinced he was that Meyer was one of the con-
spirators who had brought about Olga Ordinoff’s
death. A trusted employee of the hotel, he as-
suredly was in an excellent position to keep fairly
well posted on Mr. Hardy’s affairs. There was
furthermore much about his recent conduct that
demanded explanation. The episode of last
night surely was almost enough to convict him.
Dietz had been trying to extort from Miss
Dushane money that had just been deposited
with Mr. Hardy’s Trust Company. What could
have brought Meyer and Dietz together except-a
plot of some sort? There could be little in com-
mon between the haughty head waiter of a fash-
ionable hotel and an illiterate pup-seller.
Under ordinary circumstances, if Anne Blair -
had not come into his life, he undoubtedly would
have told his employer of his newest discovery,
but he had formed the habit of talking things
over with Anne first. Besides, on this particular
day, Mr. Hardy had been entirely different from
his ordinary self,——fussy, captious, demanding,


A GHOST AT THE FEAST 1%
taking meticulous interest in every detail of the
dinner he was to give, finding errands for Rush
to do that kept him constantly on the jump.
Twice he had neglected the manifold duties
thrust upon him to ’phone Anne’s apartment but
each time she had been out. Bitterly he cursed
himself for not having kept watch on the two
men. In his impetuous desire to tell his fellow-
worker about their meeting he had lost their
trail. If only he had had the gumption to
shadow them he might have succeeded in track-
ing them to some other rendezvous and learned
something of vital importance.
If only he could see Anne! He knew that her
clever brain would have found some theory to
account for this latest development. He felt sure
she would have been able to interpret it and sug-
gest some practical thing to do.
Moreover, he was greatly bothered by Harri-
son Hardy’s attitude toward Anne. Viewing
their meeting with a lover’s jealousy, he was con-
vinced that Mr. Hardy, strongly attracted to the
girl at his first glimpse of her, was desirous of
planning a dinner s0 notable that it would im-
press her and arouse her interest in him. Ordi-


$6 THE MYSTERY IN THE RITSMORE
narin when Mr. Hardy entertained it was in one
of the public dining rooms and he would give the
matter little thought beyond sending for the
maitre d’hotel and giving him carte blanche. Al-
though in his own apartment he had a special
kitchen and a complete dinner service of his own,
his secretary did not recall its ever having been
used before.
For this dinner, however, Mr. Hardy had in-
sisted on having the hotel’s gold service. He
had had Rush order a great centrepiece of rare
orchids, so constructed that it could be parted
into wonderful corsage bouquets for the women
guests. He had despatched his secretary to a
jeweler’s to procure costly dinner souvenirs,—
solid gold vanity cases for the women and gold
cigarette cases for the men. He had given his
personal attention to every detail, to the viands,
the cocktails, the wines, the place cards.
Only in one respect had his plans miscarried.
All of the guests invited had responded to his in-
vitation with eager alacrity, all except Hugh
Smith, the investigator in whom he seemed to
have the utmost faith.
“Smith can’t come to dinner,” he had told


A GHOST AT THE FEAST 167
Rush with obvious disappointment. “ He can’t
get here until about nine-thirty, so I have asked
Dean of the Trust Company. He already knows
a lot about the case.” I
As Rush, driven with work until the very last
moment, was hurrying into his dinner clothes,
he kept hoping that Anne would be the first to
arrive. Perhaps he might have opportunity for
a word with her before the others came. But
even in this he was disappointed. The first to
arrive were the Le Barons, both frankly flattered
and delighted at the unexpected opportunity of
meeting such a famous man as their host at his
own table.
Betty Le Baron, chattering volubly, more than
likely from sheer nervousness and excitement, as
soon as presentations were over, attached her-
self to Rush, driving him to desperation with an
overwhelming flow Of uninteresting piflie.
Dean—Gordon Dean—president Of the great
Trust Company that Mr. Hardy controlled, came
in next, a middle-aged bachelor with an athletic
figure and a money-face, high forehead, long
pointed nose, and thin cruel lips. Although
Rush had known him ever since he had been in


168 THE MYSTERY IN THE RITSMORE
Mr. Hardy’s employ, he never had observed him
closely, but now, thinking of the possibility in
Mr. Hardy’s own office, he studied him carefully.
Although in his attitude toward the multimillion-
aire he was dignifiedly deferential, Rush felt that
he was cold, hard and unemotional, without
imagination, but honest, thoroughly honest. In
his steel-gray eyes there was no shiftiness.
There wasn’t the slightest possibility, Rush de-
cided, of his having been in any way concerned
in any conspiracy to get the money from Olga
Ordinoff. He was of an obvious type, the type
who play the game strictly by the rules, a man
whose position and progress in the financial
world was largely due to his established probity.
At last Anne came.
With glowing eyes, Rush, fastened unwillingly
to Betty Le Baron’s side, watched her as she
entered, a trifle late, looking more regal than
ever in a simple gown of black that set off the
whiteness of her bared arms alluringly and re-
vealed the patrician charm of her slender shapely
neck. Her eyes were sparkling, and her cheeks,
always aglow with the flush of health, seemed
now even more highly colored and attractive.


170 THE MYSTERY IN THE RITSMORE
wit with a light repartee that seemed to delight
her host immensely.
And to Rush, miserably watching them from
the side lines, Betty Le Baron talked incessantly,
reciting at tiresome length the tittle-tattle and
gossip of her own home town, telling in detail
how Bob had come to propose to her and espe—
cially dwelling on the one great adventure of her
life, her experiences in escaping from Belgium,
where she had been in a convent studying music
when the country was invaded by Germany. In
vain she described the brutalities she had wit-
nessed, the panic and flight. Not for a second
did she distract Rush’s attention from the con-
versation between his employer and Anne. Le
Baron and Dean also seemed to be absorbed in
listening to their host, so Rush was left prac-
tically marooned and defenseless with the chat—
tering bride. It was with a sensation of great
relief that he saw his employer, after the coffee
and cordials had been put on the table, dismiss
the servants with a wave of his hand.
As he rose from his chair and looked about on
the faces of his guests, a hush fell over them all.
Even Mrs. Le Baron was silent, thrilled with


A GHOST AT THE FEAST 171
a sense of something portentous about to
come.
“ Ladies and gentlemen,” said Mr. Hardy, “ I
have tried to make this an unusual dinner, for it
is for an unusual purpose I have asked you to
assemble here to-night. A few nights ago a
young woman was murdered in this hotel. It
happens that each one of us here knows some-
thing about that mysterious crime—something
perhaps that the rest of us do not yet know.
Miss Blair suggested to me that possibly by com-
paring notes, we might be able to unravel the
mystery. I am going tO tell, without any reser—
vation whatever, just what I knew about Olga
Ordinoff. I hope each of you will do the same.”
The faces Of all of his guests were fastened on
his face. At his announcement there had been a
sudden stiffening up. Each of them sat tense
and alert, curiously interested in what was about
to be told, yet on their guard, not knowing just
what to anticipate. Even to Miss Blair and
Rush, already acquainted with the purpose of the
dinner, Harrison Hardy, as he stood there,
seemed suddenly to have assumed an uncanny,
threatening aspect.


172 THE MYSTERY IN THE RITSMORE
“ \IVhen Miss Ordinoff was murdered,” began
Mr. Hardy, “two millions of my money van-
ished.”
“ Two millions!” exclaimed Betty Le Baron
nervously, as if the sum he had mentioned was
almost beyond comprehension.
Unmindful of her interruption he repeated
almost word for word the story as he had told it
the evening before and when he had ended, with-
out waiting for possible comment or question,
he turned to the man on his left.
7 “I don’t quite know what you wish me to
tell,” said Mr. Dean. “ I never had met or heard
' of Miss Ordinoff. I knew that you were send-
ing some funds to Russia. I knew that you and
Mr. Cotesbury were planning to finance a coun-
ter-revolution, but that is all. I did not even
know that you had removed that money from
your private vault.”
“ What you have said is quite sufficient,” said
his host approvingly. “ It corroborates what I
have already said of the absolute secrecy with
which our plans were made. Now, Mr. Le
Baron.”
“You all know already all I know about the


A GHOST AT THE FEAST 173
”
case, the bridegroom began, “ even if I did
happen to be arrested for the murder. I came
upstairs with Rush. A minute after we entered
the apartment we heard Mrs. Le Baron scream
and hurried in. There was the body of the girl
. on the floor. I had never seen nor heard of her
before. I did not knowuntil the next day who
she was. I have no idea even now how her body
came to be in our cupboard. Until you spoke I
never had any suspicion that your millions had
vanished.” '
“But,” said Mr. Hardy, “is it not true that
you only recently have returned from Russia? "
He shot the question at him suddenly, as if
hoping to surprise him into some damaging ad-
mission.
“I was recently in Vladivostok for less than
three weeks,” Le Baron explained.
“ Did you meet any of Lenine’s crowd there—
any of the Bolsheviki? ” demanded Mr. Hardy,
from the trace of suspicion in his insistent tone
making it evident to Rush that he was reluctant
to abandon his theory that the theft of his mil-
lions was in some way due to the machinations
of Treptikofi and his associates.


174. THE MYSTERY IN THE RITSMORE
“ I met no government officials of any sort,"
Le Baron said. “ I was entrusted with detailed
estimates for railway supplies to be submitted to
a certain firm in Vladivostok. All my time there
was spent in trying to negotiate a contract. As
soon as I received it I caught a steamer and re-
turned home.”
Betty Le Baron, as her husband spoke, had
begun to fidget nervously, as if anticipating that
she would be next called on, but as Le Baron
finished his statement, Mr. Hardy turned to
Anne. '
“ Now, Miss Blair,” he said courteously, “ will
you tell us what you know about the case?
First, just how did you come to be involved in
it? ”
“My apartment happens to be in the same
corridor. I was passing the Le Barons’ door
and heard a woman screaming. Naturally I
went in to see what was the matter. I knew
right away, right from the start, that it was prob-
ably a waiter’s crime, but I realized also it must
be something more than that. The theory Mr.
Smith advanced that it was a crime for robbery
did not fit the facts."


A GHOST AT THE FEAST 175
“What makes you say that?” asked Mr.
Hardy, plainly surprised.
“It was really very simple. Miss Ordinoff
had been killed with a kitchen knife. That in
itself practically cleared the Le Barons. It
was the sort of weapon a waiter would natu-
rally use. It was plain, too, that she had been
killed in her own rooms and not in the Le
Barons’.”
“Why?”
“A woman attacked by a thief invariably
screams. If Miss Ordinofi‘, attacked by the
waiter, had run across the corridor, she would
have been shrieking at the top of her voice and
the whole hotel would have been aroused.”
“Your reasoning is logical,” Mr. Hardy ad—
mitted. “ What is your theory, then, as to What
actually happened?”
“The body was placed in Mr. Le Baron’s
apartment to throw suspicion on him.”
“ Why on me? ” exclaimed Le Baron in aston-
ishment.
“ Merely to obscure the trail. There is no
doubt in my mind that whoever planned the
murder and theft had learned of the plan to use


178 THE MYSTERY IN THE RITSMORE
hotel. He hired the waiter who killed Olga Or-
dinoff. It is my earnest belief that the Rits- _
more’s head waiter knows what happened to the
hand bag containing that money.”
An excited buzz of conversation ran round the
table as he sat down. It gratified him to see
that his story of the connection between Dietz
and the head waiter had been a complete sur-
prise to Mr. Hardy. He felt that the statement
he had made strengthened and justified the posi-
tion Anne had taken. He felt well pleased with
himself.
Suddenly he felt his hand under the table
seized in a frightened grip and turned to look at
Betty Le Baron, thinking at first that she had
had an attack of hysteria.
She was staring, fixedly at the portieres that
divided the dining room from the foyer adjoin-
ing.
“ That face, that terrible face,” she was moan-
ing, half under her breath. “I’ve seen it be-
fore.”
None of the others, except Anne Blair, Rush
saw, were paying any attention to her. They
were all too busy discussing this new revelation.


A GHOST AT THE FEAST 179
Mrs. Le Baron still was clutching his hand and
with blanched face was shuddering with fright as
she continued to stare at the portieres. He saw
that Anne was watching her curiously.
“ What’s the matter with you?” he asked im-
patiently, trying to shake his hand free.
“ That face, that terrible face,” she kept moan-
ing. “I’ve seen it before. I know I have. I
can’t remember where, but I know I’ve seen it.”
Puzzled to account for her extraordinary be-
havior he turned to look toward the entrance at
which she continued to stare. As he did so the
portieres we're thrust aside and Hugh Smith ap-
peared.
“Ah,” said Mr. Hardy, in gratified tones, “ the
celebrated investigator who has been at work on
this case for me has arrived. Ladies and gentle-
men, may I present Mr. Hugh Smith.”
As he spoke it dawned on Rush that there was
an air Of insincerity in Mr. Hardy’s tone. He
had exhibited no surprise at Smith’s appearance
without having been announced. There was
,. only one explanation for it. Unquestionably Mr.
Hardy had had Smith in the apartment all the
while, watching the guests, spying on them as


180 THE MYSTERY IN THE RITSMORE
they ate and talked. Bitter resentment rose
within Rush at such a betrayal of hospitality.
He felt that it was an outrage to have had them
all under this secret espionage and was on the
point of rising and giving vent to the wrath he
felt when Mr. Hardy spoke again.
“ Perhaps Mr. Smith can tell us who planned
the murder of Olga Ordinofi.”
Smith, tall and gaunt, but entirely at his ease,
stood in the doorway, making no reply for a mo-
ment as his keen piercing eyes thoughtfully
studied the face of each guest in turn.
“ I can tell you this much,” he said, speaking
with the utmost deliberation. “There is one
here among you—one among you six—who
helped plan the murder of Olga Ordinoff. One
of you here knows what became of Mr. Hardy’s
missing millions.”


CHAPTER XI
WHOM DID HE MEAN?
AT the astounding announcement by the in-
vestigator Mr. Hardy had employed an awed
hush fell on his guests. In their faces was re-
flected the ugly thought that the sinister figure
framed in the doorway had without warning
flung into their midst. Among them the slimy
serpent of Suspicion was crawling, filling the
minds of each with a sudden terrorizing distrust
of the Others.
One of the six persons present, according to
the detective’s statement, was a murderer, a
thief. .
Which one of them did he refer to?
John Rush’s first sensation at the unexpected
dénouement was one of furious wrath. He
sensed at once that the scene had been contrived
by his employer in gross violation of all the
tenets Of hospitality. There was no question in
the secretary’s mind but that Hugh Smith, cer-


182 THE MYSTERY IN THE RITSMORE
tainly with Harrison Hardy’s approval, if not at
his suggestion, had been hidden somewhere in
the apartment where he could surreptitiously
listen to the conversation and study the guests.
But even in his anger the thought came to him
that the detective’s announcement might have
been a mere ruse contrived in the hope that the
guilty person, if he really were present, might
betray himself in this moment of surprise. '
He glanced quickly about to study the effects
of the exploded bomb, watching all of them
closely except Mr. Hardy and Anne. It was ab-
surd to suppose that Mr. Hardy had had any-
thing to do with Olga Ordinoff’s untimely end.
A man would hardly murder his own messenger
to steal his own millions. Of Anne Blair’s utter
innocence in the matter he was as positive as he
was of his own. That left only three others,
Dean, Bob Le Baron and Betty.
Which of them could it be?
Though the impression he had gained of Hugh
Smith was that the man was cold and hard, a
mere thinking machine, without mercy or hu-
manity, with nothing of sympathy or kindness
in his make-up, even Smith would hardly dare


WHOM DID HE MEAN? 183
make such a bold statement unless he had in his
possession facts, incriminating facts to warrant it.
Was it Dean?
The banker was sitting bolt upright in his
chair, his lips compressed a little more tightly
than usual and there was a slight frown on his
face as though he resented the unusual situation
in which he found himself, but beyond the sur-
prise and annoyance he exhibited there was in
his manner nothing Of nervousness, no indica-
tion whatever that he felt in any way involved or
incriminated.
It must be Le Baron that Detective Smith
meant.
Bob looked, as Rush turned to study him, de-
cidedly perturbed by what had happened. His
face had gone white, and, though he kept his
eyes full on the unannounced guest in the door-
way, his fingers were plucking nervously at the
tablecloth before him. The expression in his
eyes, too, betrayed his discomfiture. There was
fear there, a look as if he were facing hidden
horrors. No, no, Rush could not believe it. He
refused even to consider the thought that Bob
Le Baron could be a murderer. He recalled their


184 THE MYSTERY IN THE RITSMORE
intimate days in college together, and never once
had Le Baron showed a streak of meanness or
cruelty. Rush felt that he could safely vouch
for his old friend, but why was he so filled with
fear? Were his fears for himself or
At the thought that had swiftly thrust itself
upon him, Rush turned quickly to look at Le

Baron’s bride sitting beside him and gasped in
amazement as he saw her. She was indeed a
pitiable spectacle. Frantic terror had convulsed
her face. Her eyes were staring fixedly. Her
hair seemed somehow to have become loosened
and to be tumbling in wild disorder about her
face. The blood had left her cheeks and her
slender hands were clenched so tightly that the
knuckles stood out bony and white.
“Go on, Smith,” directed Mr. Hardy, “ tell
’9

us
But he got no further with his request. With
a shrill unearthly scream Betty Le Baron sprang '
up from her chair as if about to flee from the
room. Hardly realizing what he was doing,
Rush grasped her and forced her back into her
chair. She stiffened in his arms and then col-
lapsed in a helpless heap, moaning hysterically:


WHOM DID HE MEAN? 185
“ That face! That terrible face again!"
All was confusion in the room. With one ac-
cord the dinner guests sprang to their feet and
crowded about Mrs. Le Baron, all of them mysti-
fied and curious about her sudden hysteria.
Only Hugh Smith seemed unaffected by the
tableau. He stood in the same spot at which he
had first made his appearance, a cynical smile
hardening rather than softening his austere face.
It was Anne Blair who assumed charge of af-
fairs. Cool-headed as always, she had Rush and
Le Baron carry the fainting bride to a sofa,
where she began energetic measures to revive
her. As Rush, his work completed, straightened
up, he strode angrily across the room to where
Hugh Smith was standing.
“ There has been enough of this foolishness,”
he cried angrily. “ Speak out, man. If you
know anything about any one here, tell us who
it is and have it over with.”
“Yes,” said Mr. Hardy, “tell us, Smith, who
it is that you suspect.”
“There has been enough excitement for one
evening,” said the man calmly. “I shall tell
more soon—to-morrow, perhaps.”


186 THE MYSTERY IN THE RITSMORE
With that he turned on his heel and vanished,
apparently going out of the apartment, leaving
them all with their curiosity unsatisfied, with
the suspicions he had spread still running rife
among them, but for the most part circling
about the poor little bride, unconscious on the
sofa.
“ Well, I’m damned,” said Harrison Hardy ex-
plosively, looking after Smith with a puzzled air
but making no effort to recall him.
Anne looked up from her ministrations.
“ Mr. Le Baron,” she said, “ your wife seems
to be reviving a little but I think she is in a seri-
ous condition. If you and Mr. Rush will help
me I think we had better take her to your apart-
ment and call in a doctor.” ’
Her husband and Rush lifted her up, and sup-
porting her between them, led her out. As she
revived a little she continued to moan in fright,
but every once in a while she burst into shrieks
of meaningless wild laughter. She did not sub-
side even when they had her safe in her own
apartment, in fact, not until a doctor arrived and
administered a hypodermic.
When at last there was nothing more that


WHOM DID HE MEAN? 187
Anne could do and Rush was escorting her to
her own apartment, as soon as they were alone
together in the corridor, he asked excitedly:
“ What do you make of it all? Whom do you
think it is that Hugh Smith suspects?”
The girl shook her head in a puzzled way.
“Is it Mrs. Le Baron? Do you think it was
she after all who killed Olga Ordinoff? ”
“ Of course not,” she answered with positive-
ness.
“ Then he must have meant Bob or Dean? ”
“ I don’t know what he meant. What hap-
pened 'to-night doesn’t fit into my theories at all.
I simply cannot understand it.”
“ Did you notice Le Baron? He certainly
acted strangely.”
She nodded assent, in an abstracted way, as if
her thoughts were busy elsewhere.
“ He was so nervous and perturbed. If I had
not known him for so many years, I would have
been inclined to suspect him.” 5
“ You’d be nervous, too, if you had just gotten
out of one terrible scrape to find another em-
barrassing situation confronting you.”
“Maybe it was worry about his wife. Did


188 THE MYSTERY IN THE RITSMORE
you notice that she got hysterical the minute
Smith appeared? ”
“ Yes,” said Anne, “ that’s what makes it all
so puzzling. She certainly didn’t kill Olga
Ordinoff or have anything to do with it. I
haven’t been able to find anything at all to
account for her peculiar conduct. The whole
affair was shocking and disturbing, but
surely not sufficiently to completely upset
her.”
“ The whole affair was disgusting,’
Rush. “ It was a rotten thing for Mr. Hardy to
do, to invite us there as his guests and have that
fellow Smith spying on us. I have not the
slightest doubt that they staged the thing pur-
posely. Where his money is concerned, Harri-
exclaimed
son Hardy has no sense of decency. I’m through
with him forever after to-night.”
As they talked they had reached the door of
Anne’s apartment and she had turned to say
good night as he made his announcement.
“ Of course,” she said approvingly. “ You
could not do anything else and keep your self-
respect. Good night.”
For a moment after her door closed he stood


WHOM DID HE MEAN ‘? 189
there uncertainly, looking in the direction she
had gone. It was not in his nature to be given
to rash action. When he had told her that he
was through with Mr. Hardy forever he had not
expected his statement to be taken quite so liter-
ally. The idea had been growing in his mind for
some days that if he ever was to amount to any-
thing it was high time that he gave up his
parasitical career as private secretary and struck
out for himself. The events of the night had
changed his thought from an idea to a fixed re-
solve but as yet he had formulated no plan of
action. It had been his intention in a day or
two, perhaps in a week or two, to announce his
intention to resign to Mr. Hardy and ask his aid
in finding a remunerative place in the business
world where there was an opportunity for ad—
vancement.
Anne’s approving reception of his bold state-
ment put new light on it. Evidently she as well
as he had resented the gross breach Of hospitality
of which their host had been so flagrantly guilty.
There could be but one interpretation of her re-
mark. If he were to retain her respect he must
leave Harrison Hardy’s employ at once.
a


190 THE MYSTERY IN THE RITSMORE
“After to-night I am through with Harrison
Hardy forever.”
He repeated the words aloud in the solitude
of the deserted corridor, this time with surer
meaning. Anne was right. She was always ’
right. His self—respect demanded immediate
action. Only in this way could he make chival—
rous protest against the insult to which his
friends, the Le Barons, and Anne Blair, the
woman he loved, had been exposed.
“ By God,” he said to himself, “I’ll quit this
very night.”
He turned and with firm steps hurried back to
the Hardy apartment. There was a separate
entrance to the part of the suite he occupied, a
sitting room and bedroom, and entering by that
he began at once packing up his belongings.
Most of his things he st0red in trunks to be called
for later, putting into a bag a few articles needed
for immediate use. As he was packing many
misgivings came to him, but firmly he fought
them down. The truth was that he so long had
laid his plans and actions in deference to the
wishes of a dominating employer that he was
finding it hard to take matters into his own hands


WHOM DID HE MEAN? 191’
and act for himself. A hundred unanswered
questions came to his mind to bother him.
Where would he go? What would he find to
do? There was no immediate prospect of his
being in penury or want. He had a few thou-
sands well invested and quite a sum besides in
the bank, but where would he be located? Here
in the Ritsmore he had many opportunities of
meeting Anne. Perhaps if he went elsewhere to
live it might be more difficult to see her so often.
No matter what happened—whether he got a
new position or not—he felt that he must so ar-
range matters that he would continue tO see her
Often. The unsolved mystery on which they
were working would be excuse enough. He
must see her. Without Anne Blair in his life,
without the prospect of seeing her and talking
with her, existence would be futile and miser-
able, hardly worth while.
But as he thought of her, a new and even
more alarming thought came to him. He re-
called the obvious admiration with which Harri-
son Hardy had regarded her at the first meeting.
He recalled the care with which the dinner had
been planned to impress Anne. He reminded


192 THE MYSTERY IN THE RITSMORE
himself of the efforts Mr. Hardy had made to
fascinate her by his conversation at the table.
Most of all he remembered the ominous glint in
Harrison Hardy’s eyes as they had feasted on
Anne’s radiant beauty. There was no doubt in
his mind that the multimillionaire already was
planning to win Anne for himself. Dared he
leave the hotel, he asked himself, and leave Anne
practically alone there to fight against the
magnetic, compelling dominance of this master-
ful man wholet nothing stand in the way of
gaining his ends?
Perhaps if he stayed on he might devise some
way of thwarting Mr. Hardy’s plans, of saving
Anne from him.
But no! No, he couldn’t.
If he were to win Anne Blair for himself, he
must retain his self-respect. To be worthy of
her he must exert himself and make his own
place in the world. He was confident that she
cared for him already, cared at least for him far
more than she did for Hardy. If only he were
in a position to ask her to marry him. The pic-
ture of her as she had entered the dinner party,
radiantly wonderful in her simple gown of black,


WHOM DID HE MEAN? 193
carrying herself like a proud young princess,
came to his mind, inspiring him with new cour-
age, filling him with eager desire to challenge the
whole world for her.
Industriously he completed his packing, de-
bating with himself whether he would resign by
letter or would announce his plans in person.
Ordinarily he would have feared to face Mr.
Hardy with such an announcement on his lips.
His employer, he well knew, bitterly resented
any of his employees considering the convenience
Of any one but himself. Anything that upset the
routine of his office or his home brought forth
a terrific burst of rage. But to-night John
Rush, in his exalted state, felt sure of himself,
afraid of nothing, capable of facing God, man
or devil.
Bag in hand, he strode boldly to the door lead-
ing to his employer’s suite. It was long after
midnight now but he was well acquainted with
Mr. Hardy’s nocturnal habits and knew that he
would still be up and about. As he entered, ap-
parently Dean had just taken his departure, for
Mr. Hardy was returning from the door after
bidding his guest good night. He stopped short


194 THE MYSTERY IN THE RITSMORE
as he saw Rush with bag in hand and for a mo-
ment or two they glared at each other in hostile
silence.
“ Well?” said Mr. Hardy at length.
“I’m through,” said Rush. “After what hap—
pened to-night I can no longer remain in your
employ. I’m quitting now, to-night.”
He had expected a burst of wrath. It would
not even have surprised him if Mr. Hardy had
attempted some specious explanation of Hugh
Smith’s presence. He was half-expecting that a
volley of questions might be fired at him, that
his employer might insist on having detailed
reasons for his sudden departure, but none of
these things happened.
Mr. Hardy merely stood looking at him with a
contemptuous smile.
“ What!” he exclaimed with a sneer. “Jeal-
ous already? ”
With a smothered oath Rush flung himself
from the room and rushed out of the hotel into
the night. He was filled with helpless rage that
his employer, cannily accustomed to probing the
thoughts in other men’s minds, in his had read
the dominating reason that had made his position


WHOM DID HE MEAN? 195
so distasteful and impossible. Blazing with in-
dignation and annoyance he walked on and on
for several blocks with no thought Of his destina-
tion nor with any fixed purpose. Rage, futile
rage, against Harrison Hardy completely ab-
sorbed him.
Meanwhile his subconscious brain kept ham-
mering away at his brain insistently. Again and
again it repeated its warning. At last he began
to take cognizance of it.
He was being followed.
The streets at this hour were practically de-
serted, hardly more than two or three persons in
each section of pavement between streets yet, at
last heeding the warning, he realized that for
several blocks—probably ever since he had left
the Ritsmore—there had been some one behind
him, some one stealthily following his move-
ments.
Who could it be? He wondered if Harrison
Hardy had set some one on his track. It was
barely possible, too, that his shadower might be
the obnoxious Hugh Smith. Perhaps it was
himself whom Smith suspected of being involved
in the murder and the theft of the two millions.


196 THE MYSTERY IN THE RITSMORE
He must catch a glimpse of the man behind him
and see if he could recognize him.
He stopped short and turned as if to look into
a window, at the same time casting a quick
glance over his shoulder. He saw a tall figure
half a block behind make an abrupt stop and
emulate his action.
From his height the man behind might be
Hugh Smith, but helcould not tell at that dis-
tance, for his shadower had the collar of his over-
coat turned up and a hat drawn well over his
eyes as if seeking to avoid recognition.
Annoyed at this espionage he grimly decided“
that he would lead his pursuer a merry chase.
He turned the next corner abruptly and walked
rapidly east, in the middle of the block drawing
back into the shadow of a stoop while he looked
back. The figure behind came hurrying around
the corner but cautiously slowed down on seeing
the block apparently deserted. Rush moved
leisurely on, turning to look back at the next
corner. There was no question about it. He
was being shadowed. His pursuer was still
sticking to his trail a cautious half-block behind.
A new idea came to him and he made his way


WHOM DID HE MEAN? 197
rapidly to one of the stations of the East Side
Subway in Lexington Avenue. With its multi-
tudinous pillars and many stairways the sub-
way station would be an ideal place for a game
of hide and seek. He figured that there he would
be able to double in his tracks and catch a closer
glimpse of his shadower. There was something
in the man’s appearance that seemed vaguely
familiar. He was almost certain that it must be
Hugh Smith but he wanted to make sure.
As he arrived at the subway entrance he
looked back to see that the man was still follow-
ing him. Yes, there he was, doggedly keeping
a half-block behind. Rush had been moving,
rather leisurely as he entered the shadow of the
staircase, but once hidden from view he took the
steps three at a time and dashed as quickly up
the stairs opposite.
Breathing heavily he sought shelter behind a
weighing machine and peered eagerly down at
the platform below. Presently there appeared
the figure of the man who had been following
him. He was moving cautiously along the plat-
form, apparently trying to scan the faces of the
waiting passengers without attracting attention


198 THE MYSTERY IN THE RITSMORE
to himself. From his faltering steps it was evi-
dent that at last he had lost the trail.
He vanished out of range without Rush having
seen his face and Rush was debating with him-
self whether or not he should venture down the
stairs again and see if he could not recognize the
shadower. As he stood there undecided, the
problem solved itself for him. The man came
walking slowly back along the platform. As he
came under a light his face was revealed.
Rush gasped in amazement.
It was not Hugh Smith who had been shadow-
ing him. It was Meyer, the Ritsmore’s head
waiter, Meyer, the friend of Caspar Dietz, Meyer
whom he had come upon in Mr. Hardy’s rooms.
Hastily he dodged back out of sight, and mak-
ing sure that he was still unobserved, hastened
to a near-by hotel where, using another name, he
took a room for the night, but not to sleep.
How could he sleep when an unanswered ques-
tion kept constantly demanding yet never receiv-
ing an answer?
“ Why is Meyer shadowing me?”


202 THE MYSTERY IN THE RITSMORE
“ Well, it has served its purpose,” he growled
bad-temperedly; “let’s drop it.”
“ Certainly not,” she answered with spirit.
“ It grows more thrillingly interesting every day.
All my life I have wanted an opportunity to try
to solve a real murder mystery. This is the only
chance that ever has come to me. Most cer-
tainly I am not going to give it up. But you
’phoned me that you had learned something
new, something important. Do tell me what it
is.”
“ I was shadowed last night as I left the hotel.”
“ What! ” she cried delightedly. “ You really
have quit Mr. Hardy’s employ? I never thought
you would do it.”
“ I quit last night, right after I left you.”
“ How perfectly splendid! ”
He glowed under her sapprobation and any
misgivings he might have had as to the wisdom
of his conduct vanished.
“ Didn't Mr. Hardy tell you?”
“ No. Your name was not even mentioned.
But, tell me, who shadowed you? ”
“ When I first discovered that I was being fol-
lowed my thought was that Mr. Hardy might


A DIFFERENCE OF OPINION 203
have put Hugh Smith on my track to see what I
was going to do. I determined to give him a
merry chase and just before I shook him I man-
aged to catch a glimpse of his face.”
“ Who was it? ” asked Anne breathlessly.
“ It was Meyer, the head waiter.”
“ Meyer,” she exclaimed in startled tones,
“ that’s very odd.”
“There is nothing Odd about it,” he replied.
“ In fact, when the murder and theft are finally
cleared up there isn’t the slightest doubt in my
mind that Meyer will be found to have been at
the bottom Of it all.”
“ Why do you say that? ”
“ Look how many clues point to him. Olga
Ordinoff was murdered in the Ritsmore. He is
the head waiter there. A waiter murdered her.
He hires the waiters. A bag with the money
vanished. He could have disposed of it without
arousing suspicion. You said yourself that the
criminal was some one well posted on Mr.
Hardy’s affairs. Meyer knows him well and sees
him Often. Besides, I found him the other night
snooping around the apartment. We both
agreed that the Ordinoff murder and the attempt


204 THE MYSTERY IN THE RITSMORE
to blackmail Ruthina Dushane had some connec-
tion. I saw Meyer talking to Dietz, the black-
mailer. Then there was the black cross on the
Le Barons’ cupboard door that he wiped
out ”

“That he might have wiped out,” corrected
Anne.
“Well, that’s not important; but last of all,
there is his shadowing me last night. Why
should he have done that unless he feared that I
had discovered something, something that might
betray him? ”
“ You’ve made out quite a case against him,
haven’t you? ” she said smilingly.
“ It all but convicts him, doesn’t it? ” he said
triumphantly.
“ N 0,” said Anne decisively, to his great aston-
ishment, “it does not do anything of the
sort.”
“ What!” he cried. “ Don’t you believe he’s
guilty? Aren’t you positive he had something
to do with that girl’s murder? ”
“One of my father’s maxims, and he was a
shrewd observer,” said Anne, “ was that the 0b-
vious generally was misleading. Meyer may be


206 THE MYSTERY IN THE RITSMORE
“ What else do you know about her? ”
“ Not much. She comes from some little town
out West, the local magnate’s daughter, I sus-
pect.”
He was much perplexed by this new line of
questioning. While Betty Le Baron’s hysteria
at the appearance of Smith was inexplicable, it
seemed beyond the range of possibility that a
frail bride as she appeared to be could have been
concerned in an international murder plot a few
days after her marriage. He decided to put the
question direct. ’
“ It can’t be that you suspect Betty Le Baron
of being the arch criminal?”
“ Of course not, silly. I’ve told you again and
again that neither of them had anything to do
with it.”
“ That leaves only Dean, the president of the
Trust Company,” he said, thinking aloud.
“ I am not suspecting anybody by name yet,”
said Anne. “ I am merely arranging all the hap-
penings in logical order. A crime, several
crimes, in fact, were planned under certain
known circumstances. To find who planned
them I am constructing a central figure, building


A DIFFERENCE OF OPINION 207
up his image inch by inch as we get new facts.
It could not have been Meyer. He doeSn’t fit
the picture.”
“ Why not? ” he demanded, loath to surrender
his theory without a struggle.
“ Have you ever read any books on the
brain?” she asked.
“ Of course, in college.” .
“ Well, the brain, you know, is simply a library
of an individual’s experiences and thoughts.
Everything a man does is due to directions given
to his nerves by his stored-up experiences in his
brain. We think we do as we please but we
don’t. We act in every instance by what our
brain tells us to do. What we do is in accord-
ance with our brain training. To commit mur-
der a man must have thought murder.”
“ I can’t accept your theory. Many a minister
has murdered his wife.”
“ My illustration was an unfortunate one.
There are two kinds of crimes—crimes of passion
and crimes of deliberation. A passion crime is
really an accident, a reversion to cave-man days
when every man tried to kill every strange man
he met, but crimes of deliberation are vastly dif-



A DIFFERENCE OF OPINION. 211
his announcement and hide yourself under an-
other name.”
“ You don’t really think he suspects me?” he
cried, horrified at the very idea of it. “You
don’t suspect me, do you? ”
“ I’m merely showing you,” she laughed,
“ how unsafe it is to base deductions on super-
ficial appearances. I am doing to you what you
have done to Meyer.”
“ I’ll get the goods on Meyer yet,” he cried
indignantly. “ I am going to get on his trail and
check up everything he does. I’ll prove to you
that I am right about him. You’ll see ”
He stopped abruptly. He saw that Anne was
no longer listening. Her eyes were looking be-

yond him toward the entrance of the tea-room.
In them was a strange expression. It was not
fear, but rather excitement, surprise, and be—
wilderment.
Rush turned half-round in his chair to see if
he could discover what was absorbing her atten-
tion. NO one had entered. The place was prac-
tically deserted. Near the door the manager
was seated at her little desk, apparently going
over her accounts. He glanced back at Anne,


212 THE MYSTERY IN THE RITSMORE
trying to read the riddle of her expression. Her
eyes were still directed toward the front of the
room. Puzzled he looked again in the direction
she was looking. He caught a glimpse of a
woman’s face peering into the tea-room at the
front window, peering so closely that her face
was pressed almost against the pane, but as he
glanced again the face disappeared.
“ Did you see that woman looking in here?”
said Anne.
“ I caught just a glimpse of her,” he replied.
“ Was it some one you knew? ”
“It was some one we both know,” said the
girl thoughtfully.
“ Who? ” he cried. “ Who was it? ” v
“ Sophie Dietz,” said Anne.
“I wonder what that means,” he said in a
puzzled way.
“It means,” said Anne decisively, “that for
some'mysterious reason we both of us are being
closely shadowed and watched.”
i“ What for?” he cried in blank amazement.
“ What good can it do any one to watch us? ”
“I don’t know,” his companion answered,
“but hereafter we will have to be very careful


CHAPTER XIII
IN THE EARLY MORNING
CROUCHED on a rusted fire escape, the dark-1
ness of two in the morning hiding him from ob-
servation, his nerves tense with a fever of
expectation, Rush kept his eyes fixcd on the thin
band of light a story below him.
If his hopes were realized he would soon be in
possession of proof, definite, convincing proof
that it was the man Meyer who was at the bot-
tom of the plot.
Huddled up against the rickety iron bars, his
collar turned up to keep out the chilling night
wind, he would hardly have been recognizable to
any of his acquaintances as the once immaculate
private secretary of Harrison Hardy. He was
clad in the oldest suit he possessed and Wore a
cheap blue-flannel shirt with a cap drawn low
over his eyes. For two days he had gone un-
shaven. He looked—or at least he sincerely
hoped he looked—like a denizen of the dilapi-


IN THE EARLY MORNING 215
dated quarter into which his search for the slayer
of Olga Ordinoff had led him.
Almost overnight the scene of his activities
had shifted from the exclusive purlieus 0f the
Ritsmore to the dingy tawdriness of Second Ave-
nue, in point Of space hardly four blocks distant,
but in the conditions that prevailed a million
miles removed. It was a region of populous
tenements and furnished-room houses, of innu-
merable ill-smelling delicatessens, of streets in
the daytime over-thronged with slattern women,
lounging men, and hordes upon hordes of under-
fed, dirty-faced children.
As he watched his thoughts were mostly of
Anne Blair. What, he wondered, was she doing
in her efforts to solve the mystery? For three
days he had not seen her. As she had agreed,
she had telephoned to him the address of the
head waiter’s lodging. Their experience at the
tea-room had convinced her that one of them,
perhaps both, were being closely shadowed and
she had insisted that it was wiser for them to
have no further meetings until they discovered
for what purpose and by whom they were being
watched. When he had protested against her


216 THE MYSTERY IN THE RITSMORE
decision, all she would agree to was that they
might talk over the telephone each morning at
nine. Loath as he was to accept his banishment
~from her presence, he, too, had realized the need
of caution. Why any one should wish to shadow
him was a puzzle, and yet the appearance of
Sophie Dietz at the tea-room window right on
the heels of his having been trailed by Meyer was
disturbing. '
Cut off from Anne’s society he had devoted his
energies to following up the activities of Meyer.
He still clung tenaciously to his belief in the head
waiter’s guilt and was all the more determined to
clear up the murder mystery and its trail of sin-
ister suspicion, if for no other reason than that
he might again have more frequent opportunities
of seeing the girl with whom he was becoming
each day more hopelessly in love. Even the
problem of finding another position he had put
aside until this enigma of crime was solved.
Meyer, he reasoned, must be persistently
tracked, in the hope that his activities would fur-
nish the key to the mystery. He decided to trail
him each night as he left the hotel, keeping close
watch on his movements and especially on the


IN THE EARLY MORNING 217
people he met. The very night he learned the
address of Meyer’s lodging he set about shadow-
ing him. Waiting in a taxicab half a block from
the hotel he had seen Meyer leave and had
trailed him cautiously as he walked west, turning
into Sixth Avenue. In the middle of one 'block
he saw Meyer entering a house with a latch-key.
Dismissing the cab, he followed to the door and
saw that it was the number where the man lived.
He waited about the neighborhood for an hour,
but nothing happened. NO one else entered the
building. He saw a light go up in one of the
front rooms and in a few minutes go out again
as if the occupant had retired for the night.
Waiting the next day until he was sure
Meyer’s duties would have taken him to the
hotel, he visited the place, which had a shop on
the first floor, some offices on the second, and
rooms to let on the third and fourth. After
some guarded inquiries in the neighborhood he
ventured into the house itself on the pretext of
renting a room. Finding a garrulous landlady
he questioned her as to her lodgers, easily learn-
ing from her that Meyer had been a lodger there
eight years, that he was “ a splendid gentleman,


218 THE MYSTERY IN THE RITSMORE
so quiet, never any company and always pays his
rent prompt every Saturday.”
Somewhat discouraged by the results of his
investigations, he decided to trail him a second
night. This time, to his amazement and delight,
Meyer did not head homeward but turned east
and walked rapidly in the direction of Second
Avenue. As he approached that thoroughfare
by one of the side streets two men who had been
waiting in the shadow of the building stepped
out and hailed him. Apparently the meeting
had been prearranged, for the head waiter ex-
hibited no surprise, but stood chatting with them
on the sidewalk. Rush, dismissing his taxicab,
crept softly up the street behind them, but be-
fore he was close enough to overhear their con-
versation they moved on and entered a house
next the corner on the upper side of the street,
one of Meyer’s companions opening the door
with a latch-key. As the man with the key
turned to admit the others the glare from the
electric light on the corner fell full on his face.
With difliculty Rush repressed an exclamation
of satisfaction. The face was that of Caspar
Dietz.


IN THE EARLY MORNING 219
But what move should he make next? As the
door closed behind the three men, he realized
that there was no way practicable by which he
could hope to gain admittance to the house that
night. There was nothing for him to do but
wait. Keeping well back in the shadows across
the street, he studied the house. Apparently the
men had gone to some room in the rear part of
the building, for no light was visible. He made
up his mind to visit the neighborhood the next
morning and try to enter the building on some
pretext.
Presently the door opened and Meyer
emerged. He was alone, although one of his
companions came as far as the door with him.
Whether or not it was Dietz, Rush could not
see.
As Meyer set out swiftly in the direction of
his home, Rush for a moment was in a quandary.
Should he continue to watch the house or should
he follow the head waiter? He decided on the
latter course and later regretted that he had
done so, for the man went now directly home and
to bed.
Although he really had learned little Of


IN THE EARLY MORNING 221
“ Yes, if you’ll ’phone me at six. At seven
I’m dining again with Mr. Hardy.”
“ Again? ”
She laughed merrily at the manifest discompo-
sure in his exclamation, adding, “And to-mor-
row afternoon he wants me to go motoring with
him.”
“ Don’t do it,” he begged.
“ I must,” she answered. “ There’s something
I wish to learn from him. He hasn’t told me
everything yet. I’m going to keep seeing him
until I ascertain one particular fact.”
He tried in vain to get her to confide further
in him.
“No,” she persisted, “my theory is still too
problematical to tell it to any one—even you.”
“ But perhaps I could help you.”
“ No, it all depends on one fact and only Harri-
son Hardy can tell me that.”
As the unsatisfactory conversation ended his
jealousy of his former employer once more pos-
sessed him. He regretted ever having let him-
self become involved in this mess of crime and
intrigue. What had be gotten out Of it? Here
was he, hiding like a criminal from some myste-


IN THE EARLY MORNING 225
tude was an enigma tO him. He could only ac-
count for it on the theory that his recent discov-
eries had persuaded her that he was right and he
glowed with the usual masculine self-satisfaction
at the thought.
It had been nine o’clock when he had arrived at
the Second Avenue house to take up his watch-
ing, and he had had a weary time of it. For the
first four hours absolutely nothing at all had
happened. The room he was watching was un-
lighted and apparently unoccupied. He was be-
ginning to wonder if his quarries might not have
been keeping tab on him, and discovering that
they were under Observation, had fled to some
new meeting place, when, shortly after one,
Dietz, accompanied by two other men, entered
the room.
The blind was up as they lighted the gas and
he caught a good look at their faces. One of the
men he was sure he never had seen before, but
about the appearance of the other—a little old
man with a white beard—there was something
reminiscently familiar. Surely he knew that
man. Where had he seen him before? Who
was he?


228 THE MYSTERY IN THE RITSMORE
balance. \Vith his nerves tense from his long
watch, the hand laid gently on his shoulder with
a warning “ ssh ” had come as such a shock that
almost he had shrieked aloud. He turned
quickly, his heart in his mouth.
“ It’s me—-Anne,” whispered a voice he recog-
nized at once.
“ You,” he breathed excitedly, amazed beyond
belief to find her at his side. “ How on earth did
you come here? ”
“ The Le Barons brought me,” she answered.
“ They’re waiting around the corner in a taxi.”
“ But how did you get into the house, into this
room? ”
“ The front door was open. You had told me
where the room was. I just walked in and came
up.”
“ But why did you come?” he protested.
“ You shouldn’t have ”
A suppressed cry from his companion and a
warning clutch on his arm cut him short. He
turned to find her pointing at the crack of light
below them. Into the room into which they
were peering Meyer the head waiter had en-
tered. The others had risen to greet him.


230 THE MYSTERY IN THE RITSMORE
“ I know what it is,” cried Anne with a shud-
der, “ it’s the oath of death, the terrible, terrible
oath of death. Come on, I’m going to jump
down on that balcony just outside their window.
We must hear what they are planning.”
As she spoke she vaulted over the rail of the
fire escape and letting herself down to the lowest
rung, swung boldly out and let go, landing lightly
on the balcony right outside the window. Rush
put out his arm to detain her, but he was too
late. Before he had realized her intention she
was safely landed. As she had climbed down
she had flung off a coat she was wearing and he
saw in the dim light that she was clad in a riding
costume, her trousers enabling her to move
much more freely than skirts would have done.
Apparently she had come prepared for adven-
ture.
Hesitating not a second he followed her over
the fire escape and essayed her feat in landing on
the balcony below. Less agile than she, he
tripped and would have fallen had she not caught
him as he landed. As it was he came down on
the wooden flooring with a sharp thud.
With suspended breath they waited, wonder-


IN THE EARLY MORNING 231
ing if they had been discovered. From the room
Within not a sound could be heard. They were
just beginning to breathe more freely, thinking
they were still undetetted, when suddenly the
window before them was jerked up, and the blind
thrust roughly aside.
Fear-stricken and desperate, the faces of Cas-
par Dietz and two of his comrades glared at
them hardly three feet away.


234 THE MYSTERY IN THE RITSMORE
the young man, spurred on by the thought of the
girl behind them, met their combined onslaught.
As one of his assailants aimed a vicious blow at
his face the other sought to grab him around the
waist. He struck out with right and left, the
vicious smack of his blows resounding loud
through the night stillness. With grunts of pain
the men fell back, but it was only for a moment.
On they came again, and by this time their
mates had come to their assistance. Dietz, too,
was on his feet again, cursing under his breath
as he tried to reach Rush’s face with his huge
fists. Back and forth on the narrow balcony
they battled until the struggle became a wild
scramble of maddened, scufliing men, but
through it all there were no shduts or cries,—
only the dull thud of blows, the scraping of feet,
and the sounds of heavy breathing, with now and
then a muttered curse as some blow struck home.
Rush was all but winded. A blow over the
eye had cut his forehead and the blood was
streaming down over his eyes. His thumb
pained him so much that he was sure it was dis-
located, but still he fought on. Fear of discov-
ery still actuated the conspirators. It seemed to
\.


236 THE MYSTERY IN THE RITSMORE
leather belt from some one’s waist was strapped
about his feet, and then his hands were tied.
Bound and helpless he lay on the floor, badly
bruised and beaten, his heart pumping furiously
from his violent exertion, his head paining fright-
fully where the blow had cut him, but all the
while thinking, not of himself, but of Anne.
What had happened to her? Had she suc-
ceeded in making her escape?
“We’ve got them both,” he heard some one
cry exultantly, and his heart sank within him.
“ Down with the blind,” some one ordered.
“ Light the lights again.”
As the lights went on he twisted and turned,
trying to see how the girl had fared. She, too,
evidently had been more than a spectator in the
fight. Her cap had been lost in the scrimmage
and her long black hair had come tumbling about
her face. In spite of her disordered appearance
and her flushed face, she looked like a beautiful
boy, standing there in her riding breeches.
Though her arms, too, were bound behind her,
she seemed to have come off better than Rush,
for she bore few marks of battle. Defiantly she
stood there, facing her captors, studying the




‘
xano vfimil“
4’.
Her cap had been lost in the scrimmage and her long black
hair had come tumbling about her face. Page 236.





IN THE ENEMY’S HANDS 237
countenance Of each as if she wished to be sure
of recognizing him again.
“ God, it’s a girl,” one Of the men cried out in
amazement.
Caspar Dietz stepped forward and took a long
look at Anne. An evil grin of delight spread
over his ugly face.
“ It is the girl,” he said, “ the photograph
woman who stOle my letters from me.”
He would have struck her in the face but one
of the others caught him by the arm.
“Not yet,” the man warned Dietz. “They
can’t escape us. There’s plenty of time for that.
Who’s the man?”
Dietz, contenting himself with hurling a few
insulting epithets at the girl who had thwarted
his blackmailing scheme, turned with the others
tO look at the captive on the floor.
“ I think,” he said, “ but I am not sure that it
is the man who came with her.”
“ Why, it is Mr. Rush.”
It was the voice Of Meyer that made this an-
nouncement. In it was a note of genuine sur-
prise, with just a suggestion of pity. Rush
looked up puzzled and caught Anne’s eye. He


IN THE ENEMY'S HANDS 241
not intended to tell you, girl dear, at least not
yet, but I want you to know I love you—I love
you more than life itself. I’d gladly die if they
would set you free.”
Surely never in all the world had there been a
stranger declaration of love than this. Though
his heart was throbbing with an agony of pent-up
affection, though there came rushing to his
bruised and gagged lips a horde of burning,
eager words, with the sheeting still about his
mouth he had to speak slowly, a word at a time,
and even then his speech sounded thick and con-
fused, hardly understandable. And all the while
his brain was chilled with the constant thought
that at any minute their murderers might come
to make away with them.
Did Anne hear him and had she understood?
From her direction there came strange, muffled
sounds. She was trying to say something, but
try as he could, he found it impossible to under-
stand a word of what she was saying. Impa-
tiently she drew away her fingers from his.
“You’re not angry, girl dear, are you?” he
went on. “ I know I’ve little to offer you, even
if we were to live. If this had not happened I


242 THE MYSTERY IN THE RITSMORE
wouldn’t have spoken. I’m a poor sort of chap
to talk to any woman of love. I have been
trifling my life away. I never really cared until
I met you. But, dear, I was trying to be worthy
of you. Even before that dinner I had decided
to leave Mr. Hardy and strike out for myself. I
was going to make good. I wanted to be worthy
of you. When I had accomplished something I
wanted to come to you and tell you how much I
loved ’you. Now, dearest, now when it is too
late, when we’re facing death together, I just had
to tell you. I love you so.”
Once more from his companion came a series
of muffled, unintelligible sounds. Was she angry
with him? Was she reproaching him for having
permitted her to join him in his perilous esca-
pade? Perhaps she was shocked at his talking
to her of love in the face of death. Remorse for
his rashness smote him. What a bungler he
was! It was all his fault that this splendid girl
was here facing death. He ought to have pro-
tected her. He ought never to have told her of
his silly plan of trying to trap Meyer. He might
have known that her daring and her love for ad-
venture would inspire her to some rash action.


IN THE ENEMY’S HANDS 245
stiffened muscles, hand in hand Rush and Anne
Blair sped swiftly down the stairs toward the
front door. Their sudden withdrawal from the
threshold of such a terrible death as waited them
had left them both weak and dazed. To Rush,
who had been expecting Meyer to appear as their
executioner, it seemed incredible that he should
have been their saviour, yet here they were, has-
tening to freedom.
As they reached the street door, they heard
the door open on the floor above and realized
that in a second their flight Would be discovered.
Casting all precaution aside Rush jerked the
door open and dashed with Anne into the street.
Even as it slammed behind him he heard a great
commotion on the upper floor, angry shouts and
the sound of hurrying feet on the steps behind
them.
“Thank God,” he heard a familiar voice cry
out, and with relief saw a taxi standing at the
curb. Evidently the Le Barons, their fears
aroused by Anne’s long absence, were on the
look-out. As they rushed together down the
steps Bob Le Baron sprang out and ran to
Anne’s assistance. At the sight of him, over-


IN THE ENEMY’S HANDS 247
sheer exhaustion he turned the key in the lock
and stood listening, but there was no sound Of
pursuit. Evidently he had thrown them Off the
track or else they thought that he too was in the
vanishing taxi.
Aching in every limb, exhausted from his long
battle, weakened by the sudden reversal of his
fortunes, he flung himself heavily on the little
bed that only a few hours before had looked so
uninviting. He did not even bother to look out
the window to try to discover what was going on
in the house next door. What did it matter?
What did anything matter now? Only one
thought sang a song Of gratitude in his heart as
he fell into the deep sleep of utter exhaustion.
“ Anne Blair was safe!” .


CHAPTER XV
SOME NEW ENIGMAS
SLOWLY Rush opened his eyes and looked
dazedly about him.
Where was he?
Every muscle of his body was stiff and aching
and his head was splitting. Still heavy with
sleep his tired body proclaimed in every nerve
its protestations at his having gone to bed fully
clothed. The afternoon sun streaming in the
one unwashed window of the room revealed to
his puzzled eyes tawdry unfamiliar surroundings
that he could not at first account for. His gaze
roved questioningly from a torn flap of cheap
flowered paper hanging loose from the ceiling to
the one rickety chair and the pine washstand that
comprised the room’s furniture.
At last, with a start, he remembered where he
was. He was in the hall room he had hired the
day before. Mechanically he looked at his watch
and sat up with a start. It was after two. He


SOME NEW ENIGMAS 251
Meyer went through with the others, as he and
Anne had watched from the balcony, as they
stood in line, facing the window, with their up-
lifted arms crossed, and their fists clenched.
Anne had cried out that it was “the oath of
death.” What had she meant by that?
And where was Anne now? Had she reached
home in safety?
What was she thinking of him? Had she
heard and comprehended the words of love that
he had dared to utter as they lay, bound and
gagged, facing death together? Did she know
now that he loved her? Now that his pent-up
affection for her had burst its bounds, unconven-
tional and ridiculous as his professions must have
seemed to her, he felt that for him there could
be neither rest nor peace of mind until he had
learned how he stood with her. He must go to
her at once. He must tell her again that he
loved her. He must know!
Unsteadily he got to his feet and crossed the
ragged carpet to the little crooked fly-specked
mirror that hung above the washstand. As he
caught a glimpse of his face in the glass he
started back. One puzzle was fully explained to


2 52 THE MYSTERY IN THE RITSMORE
him. He knew now why Bob Le Baron had
knocked him away as he had tried to enter the
taxi after Anne.
“ He took me for one of the gang, and no won-
der,” he thought, returning to an inspection of
himself in the mirror.
A pretty spectacle he was in his torn and
disheveled clothes, with three-days’ growth of
heard on his face, with a great cut on his fore-
head, the dried blood from which had trickled
down over his eye and cheek. The other eye,
too, was purpling from one of Dietz’s blows and
a grazing blow on the chin had cut the skin there.
He was hardly presentable enough even to slip
into the hotel where he had taken a room, much
less go to see Anne. Washing his face as well
as a dislocated thumb permitted, he set out to
find a barber shop, stopping first to peer out the
window at the house adjoining. The blinds had
been raised and he could see into the room where
he had been the night before, but, as he had an-
ticipated, it was deserted. Undoubtedly the con-
spirators had already taken flight.
He set out briskly for the street, but at the
corner paused for another look at the house, for


254 THE MYSTERY IN THE RITSMORE
dejection and disappointment in Smith’s manner.
Perhaps he had come thither expecting to find
the conspirators assembled and had found the
house deserted. Rush, taking his eyes off the
man’s face for the first time, suddenly observed
what he was carrying and gasped in amaze-
ment.
It was a hand bag, a black hand bag!
A burst of wrath encompassed him. There
was no question in his mind that this was the
identical bag in which Mr. Hardy had placed
the funds he had entrusted to Olga Ordinoff. It
was the one definite, convincing bit of evidence
that was lacking. By rights he and Anne, in
virtue of the skilful investigation they had con-
ducted, should have discovered it. And here
was Hugh Smith walking off with it right under
his nose. It would be Hugh Smith who would
get all the credit of solving the mystery, the
credit to which Anne Blair was justly en-
titled.
But what was there that he could do about it?
He would like to wrest the bag away from Smith
and dash off with it; but what good would that
d0? It probably would only lead to his arrest


SOME NEW ENIGMAS 255
and would accomplish nothing. He wondered if
the bag still contained the funds Mr. Hardy had
secreted in it. He contented himself with watch-
ing Smith until he was out of sight and then has-
tened to a near-by barber shop.
He must see Anne at once. That was the
wisest thing for him to do. Her alert, logical
brain could make better use of the new facts he
had learned than could his. She undoubtedly
would be able to account for Smith’s having
learned where Meyer and his associates were
in the habit of meeting. There was just a possi-
bility that she herself might have given the in-
formation to Mr. Hardy.
A half an hour later as Rush, looking more like
his handsome self, in spite of his Old clothes,
emerged from the barber shop, a newsboy
passed, crying an extra, and he bought a copy.
As he glanced mechanically at it, he exclaimed
aloud.
" Harrison Hardy murdered! ” read the flaring
headlines.
Hailing a passing taxi he jumped in, promising
the man double fare to get him to his hotel as
quickly as possible. He must change his clothes


256 THE MYSTERYIN THE RITSMORE
and get to the Ritsmore at once. As the taxi
dashed through the streets he hurriedly scanned
the paper for details of the tragedy.
Mr. Hardy, it appeared, had not gone down-
town to business. As was his custom he had
gone down to the hotel dining room for break-
fast. Returning to his rooms he apparently had
been alone there all the morning, for the hotel
records showed no evidence of any callers having
been announced. Shortly after twelve he had
ordered luncheon sent to his rooms. Apparently
it had been his intention to go motoring at two,
for his chauffeur had been instructed the night
before to bring the car around at that hour.
When the hotel desk had tried to notify Mr.
Hardy of his chauffeur’s arrival there had been
no response to the telephoned message. After
repeated efforts had been made without success
a bell boy was sent to his apartments to convey
the message.
As the boy arrived at Mr. Hardy’s door, a
young woman was just coming out. She was
Miss Anne Blair, a permanent guest in the hotel,
with whom, the hotel people said, Mr. Hardy
was well acquainted. She seemed greatly ex-



SOME NEW ENIGMAS 257
cited and cried out to the bell boy that Mr.
Hardy had been murdered.
T0 the hotel management and to the police
when they arrived, she explained that Mr. Hardy
had invited her to go motoring with him at two
o’clock that afternoon. Shortly after one she
found that it would be impossible for her to keep
her engagement with him and had tried to
communicate the fact to him over the telephone.
Unable to get any answer to her ’phone calls she
had decided to run down to his apartment and
tell him in person. Getting no answer to her
ring and to repeated knockings, she had noticed
that the door was unlatched and had walked in,
fearing he might have been taken suddenly ill or
that there was something wrong. She had found
him lying dead on the floor, stabbed through the
heart.
Miss Blair’s statement had been partly cor-
roborated by the telephone girl, who told of her
repeated efforts to reach Mr. Hardy’s apartment
by telephone. The article went on to point out
the curious parallel between the manner of Mr.
Hardy’s death and that of a young Russian
woman in the same hotel less than two weeks


258 THE MYSTERY IN THE RITSMORE
before. Both of them had been stabbed through
the heart and in each instance the crime had
taken place in their own apartment just after a
meal had been served there. In the Ordinoff
case, the newspaper said, the motive had been
robbery and the slayer had been a waiter who
had killed himself, leaving a confession of guilt,
just as the police were about-to arrest him.
Reaching his hotel, Rush left the article un-
finished and scrambled
clothes.
into his customary
He must get to Anne’s side at once.
The appalling horror of this new crime had
shocked him far more than‘had the death of Olga
Ordinoff. This time the slayer’s hand had
reached some one he knew intimately. All the
disgruntlement and wrath he had been feeling
toward his former employer had vanished with
the news of his untimely end. His only feeling
now was one of pity for him, pity and grief, the
natural grief that came from the taking away of
one with whom he had so long been pleasantly
associated. '
But who could have killed Mr. Hardy?
There was no doubt in Rush’s mind that it was
the work of the band with whom he had battled


260 THE MYSTERY IN THE RITSMORE
the police to keep a vigilant watch on the head
waiter.
His hasty toilet completed, he started almost
on the run for the Ritsmore, snatching up the
paper on his way to the elevator. As he waited
for a descending car, he quickly scanned the ar-
ticle to its end. As he read the last two lines he
gave a little gasp of surprise and then laughed
aloud. They read:
“ The police are searching for John Rush, until
recently Mr. Hardy's private secretary and con—
stant companion. He disappeared after a quar-
rel with his employer several days ago.”


SMITH SHOWS HIS HAND 265
“I went,” she interrupted, “because I feared
for his safety. I had reason to believe that an
attempt might be made on his life at any
time.”
“ By whom? ”
“ I am not prepared yet to say.”
“Are you aware of any enemies Mr. Hardy
had made? ”
“I decline to answer that question.” \
Moving catlike across the room Hugh Smith
stepped up to Mr. Glidden and held whispered
conference with him, while the policemen and
detectives present eyed Anne ominously as she
stood there waiting, a suggestion of a smile play-
ing about her lips.
“ DO you know John Rush?” came the next
question, evidently inspired by Smith.
“ Very well, indeed.”
“ He is or was Mr. Hardy’s private secretary,
was he not?”
“ Yes.”
“ Did Mr. Rush recently have any quarrel with
his employer that you know of? ”
“ Oh, yes,” she answered quickly, as her ques-
tioner exchanged a quick glance with the police


266 THE MYSTERY IN THE RITSMORE
inspector. “I know they had a bitter quarrel
the night Mr. Rush went away.”
“ You knew then that Mr. Rush had quit Mr.
Hardy’s employ and had disappeared.”
“I knew he had quit, but ” she cast a
quick glance in Rush’s direction, “but I would

hardly say he had disappeared, as I have been in
touch with him every day since, and besides, he
is here in the room right now.”
All eyes were quickly turned on Rush as he
stepped forward and faced the examiner.
“Are you John Rush?” asked Mr. Glidden,
plainly somewhat perturbed by his unanticipated
arrival.
“I am.”
“ When did you last see Mr. Hardy? "
“ Three days ago.”
“ You admit having had a quarrel with him? ”
“ Yes.”
“ About what did you quarrel? ”
Anne’s eyes flashed a warning and he an-
swered, “I decline to say.”
“Mr. Rush,” said Mr. Glidden impressively,
“I think you realize that appearances are very
much against you. It is evident that Mr. Hardy


SMITH SHOWS HIS HAND 269
made use of him because of his relation to Mr.
Hardy’s affairs.”
Rush listened bewildered. “What on earth was
the man talking about? Was Smith meaning to
imply that he, John Rush, was in any way impli-
cated, that some one had made a dupe of him?
“Mr. Hardy,” Smith continued, “had large
investments in Russia. With other financiers he
had made arrangements to send there two mil-
lion dollars in cash, in American banknotes, to
finance a counter-revolution there. He selected
as his messenger, to carry this money to Russia,
a young woman, a Russian by birth, Olga Ordi-
noff.”
A buzz of amazement swept through the room.
Except for Rush and Anne, and Mr. Dean, and
possibly Meyer, the news that the multimillion-
aire had been associated with Miss Ordinofl was
a revelation.
“ Miss Ordinoff, the day before she was to sail,
came here to this hotel to meet Mr. Hardy. He
turned over the funds to her. The money was
hidden in the false bottom of a black hand bag.
What happened? Within one hour after Olga
Ordinofi had received her final instructions and


270 THE MYSTERY IN THE RITSMORE
the money, she was killed, right here in this hotel,
and the money had vanished. Naturally Mr.
Hardy was making every effort to discover the
murderer or murderers and to recover his miss—
ing millions. I was working for him and with
him. As we came closer and closer on the track
of the clever person who had skilfully planned
this atrocious crime, when this person’s arrest
was a matter of only a few hours away, what
happened? Mr. Hardy was killed also.”
Every one in the room now, even Anne and
Rush, was breathlessly listening. Hugh Smith
appeared to be leading up to a climax. Familiar
asAnne Blair and Rush had become with many
of the circumstances Smith had related, and inuch
as they knew about the conspirators in the Sec-
ond Avenue house, they were unable to decipher
what he was driving at. Whom, Rush was won-
dering, would Smith denounce as the arch mur-
derer?
“ Who killed Mr. Hardy? ” Smith put the ques-
tion, and after a dramatic pause, continued.
“ The person who stole the money had by pre-
arrangement obtained a room on’the same corri-
dor where Miss Ordinoff’s room was located.


SMITH SHOWS HIS HAND 271
This person was in wait there and when the poor
fool of a waiter in accordance with his instruc-
tions killed the girl, he handed over the satchel
containing the money. It is needless to say it
was this same person who killed Mr. Hardy.
This person, furthermore, knew Mr. Hardy well
and on several occasions had visited his rooms.
" If additional proof was needed that this person
is the murderer, here it is.”
He stooped quickly and from behind a desk
produced a black hand bag, the same one, Rush
was confusedly thinking, that he had seen Smith
carry as he left the Second Avenue house, hardly
an hour ago.
Dramatically Smith jerked open the bag and
with a sudden twist revealed its false bottom.
“Here,” he said, “is the very bag in which
Mr. Hardy’s money was packed. The money it-
self has been secreted elsewhere, but the bag
itself not twenty minutes ago was found by me in
this hotel—and Mr. Edgar, the manager, was
with me when I found it—in the apartment
of "
He paused. A dead silence fell on all present
as they waited breathlessly for the dénouement.


274 THE MYSTERY IN THE RITSMORE
see what was going to happen. With insolent
aggressiveness Hugh Smith’s cold gray eyes
bored into Anne’s as if he were trying to read
there what was going on in her mind, as if he
were trying to drive home to her the seriousness
of her plight, but if he hoped by his steady stare
to unnerve her he failed most dismally.
She stood, her eyes fixed steadfastly on his
face, a mocking smile still playing about her lips.
“Clever, very clever,” she said, speaking so
low that it was almost a whisper, yet with such
intensity that her words carried to every corner
of the room, “but, Captain Hugo, your story
won’t do.”
At the unfamiliar name by which she called
him he gave a convulsive start, and a bitter
blackness came into his eyes. It was hate, un-
dying, indescribable hate, that colored them so
strangely.
“Captain, your time has come,” she went
calmly on. “Remember your oath, your oath
of death.”
Under her steadfast gaze the man seemed all
at once to crumple up and break. His face
turned a ghastly white and his limbs were trem-


SMITH SHOWS HIS HAND 275
bling, even though his eyes still blazed with
vindictiveness. He seemed to be trying to utter
words that would not come. With a harsh,
choking cry, like that of a trapped wild beast,
before any one realized his intent, he sprang at
the slender girl before him.
Quick as had been his movement, quicker still
had been John Rush. Breaking loose from the
police, in a flash he had interposed himself be-
tween Anne and the man who had accused her.
AS Smith had sprung Rush had caught the glint
of a dagger, and realizing his purpose was to kill
the girl before she could expose him, fought as
he never had fought before. Back and forth they
struggled, breathing heavily, and as Rush, deftly
tripping the detective, was about to hurl him to
the floor, Smith, with a defiant cry, plunged his
dagger into his own heart and collapsed, dying
almost instantly. '
As the watchers looked shudderingly on, Anne
turned to Mr. Glidden.
“ There,” she said, “lies the real murderer, the
man who planned Olga Ordinof’f’s death, the man
who stole Mr. Hardy’s millions, the man who
planned scores of other crimes, the man who


276 THE MYSTERY IN THE RITSMORE
killed Harrison Hardy—the cleverest, most dan-
gerous criminal in all the world—Captain Hugo
Schmidt, once one of old Germany’s most com-
petent and dangerous spies.”
“ But his comrades,” cried Rush, “ we must not
let them get away. We must put the police on
their track at once. They’ve already fled from
the Second Avenue house, but I know three of
them. There’s Dietz and old Lieber and "
“ Here,” said Meyer, the head waiter, stepping
forward, “is the complete list of all of them with
their homes. There are nine of them altogether.”


JOHN RUSH ASKS A QUESTION 279
den, who had been hastily perusing the list
Meyer had handed him, “ you’d better take this
and get after these men at once. The minute
they learn that their leader has killed himself
they are all apt to decamp.”
“ Do tell us all about it, Meyer,” cried Anne,
as the Inspector and his men hastily departed.
“ How did you get that list?”
“ Quite by accident, as it were, Miss Blair,” he
explained, “ though in a way I may say it was
part of my business.”
“ Your business?” she questioned, puzzled.
“ Yes, Miss. You see, for some years I have
been a detective. A head waiter’s work, after a
period, becomes largely a matter of routine. I
employed my spare time reading stories of crime
and decided that in my spare hours I would find
the work of an investigator interesting. I of-
fered my services to one of the large private
agencies and for a while drew a salary as an
operative but they asked things of me that I
felt were incompatible with my duties here, and
since then it has been only a sort of pastime
with me.”
“Oh, bother your explanations,” cried Rush


280 THE MYSTERY IN THE RITSMORE
impatiently, “tell us how you learned about
Smith and his gang? ”
“I’m coming to that,” said Meyer imperturb-
ably. “ It was a few days before the murder of
Miss Ordinofl that I noticed some of my waiters
with their heads together, two of them in par-
ticular. I began watching them, suspecting they
might be planning a strike. I shadowed them to
see if I could learn what they were about. To
my amazement I found them holding secret
meetings with this man, Caspar Dietz, about
whom I think you know, and with Mr. Lieber,
who was employed in the vaults of Mr. Hardy’s
Trust Company.”
“ What! ” cried Mr. Dean excitedly. “ Is our
old Lieber one of them? Is he a crook? ”
“ He certainly is,” said Rush. “ I can testify
to that if Meyer cannot.”
“ My, my, this is terrible,” cried Dean. “ We
trusted him absolutely.”
“ It was hardly wise, if I may say so,” said
Meyer, as he continued with his story. “ It was
Mr. Lieber’s presence at their secret meetings
that led me to believe they were planning some
sort of crime, something involving Mr. Hardy.


JOHN RUSH ASKS A QUESTION 287
he trusted any one. Probably he regarded the
fact that he was the custodian of Schmidt’s
secret as making him entirely safe.
“Meanwhile Schmidt was biding his time,
quietly organizing his forces for a grand coup
whenever the opportunity came. He saw his
chance when Mr. Hardy formulated the plan of
sending funds to Russia. He arranged to have
the girl killed as soon as the money was in her
possession. How well his plan worked out we
all of us know, but what Schmidt did with the
money I never have been able to discover.”
“ I’ll wager I know where it is,” said Mr. Dean,
speaking with conviction. “He has a safe de-
posit box in his own name in our vaults. I re-
member his coming down there with a large
package theyday after that girl was killed.”
“ That would be just like him,” said Anne, “ to
hide the money the one place nobody would ever
think of looking for it. But another thing I
can’t understand is how he found that black bag
up in my rooms.”
“I can answer that,” said Rush. “He un-
doubtedly was informed Of our being captured
and escaping from the gang’s rendezvous. He


288 THE MYSTERY IN THE RITSMORE
realized that the chase was getting warm, and
probably resolved on the death of Mr. Hardy as
likely to block pursuit for a while. He had the
bag hidden in that Second Avenue house. I my-
self saw him taking it away from there not more
than two hours ago. He must have brought it
directly here, entered your apartment by a pass-
key and planted it there. It was part of his
scheme to make it look as if you killed Mr.
Hardy. But, Anne, I wanted to ask you, what
did you mean by calling that ceremony that
Meyer went through the oath of death? ”
“That’s just what it was,” the girl replied.
“His whole scheme of organization was based
on the system with which he was most familiar,
the once notorious German secret service. That
was why they adopted the black cross as an
emblem, undoubtedly the suggestion having
come from the iron cross. It was typical, too,
that his identity was kept a mystery to most
of the band. That was the way the German spies
worked, seldom any of them knowing just Whom
they were working for.”
“ But the oath of death—what was that?” re-
peated Rush.


JOHN RUSH ASKS A QUESTION 191
“ Some job, I take it," said Mr. Glidden.
“ The legal fees of each of us,” announced Mr.
Dean, speaking with a'true banker’s respect for
large sums of money, “ will exceed fifty thousand
a year.”
Overwhelmed by the unexpected good fortune
that had come to him—an important place in the
world of business ready made with an income
that would be far beyond what he would have
had any right to hope for for years to come—
]ohn Rush escorted Anne to her own apart-
ment.
“ Won’t you come in? ” she asked, with an un~
usual shyness in her tones. With the completion
of her work in solving the mystery of Olga Or-
dinofi’s death, and the strange circumstances
that had ensued, she seemed all at once to have
dropped her brusque air of business. Rush, his
mind crowded with a throng of thoughts, stood
silent, regarding her wonderingly. Somehow
she seemed now more approachable, more hu-
man, more lovable, more desirable in this new
role of just girl.
“ Won’t you come in? ” she repeated.
“ I will,” he said, and there was a warning ring


292 THE MYSTERY IN THE RITSMORE
of determination in his voice that caused her to
quail a little before his glance and to view him
with new respect. “ There’s one more question
I want to ask you.”
“ Yes,” she answered, half defiantly.
“ Last night,” he said, as they entered together
and stood eyeing each other appraisingly, “as
we lay there facing death, I tried to tell you that
I loved you. I did not know then, I don't know
now, whether you could understand what I said.
Could you hear me then? ”
“ Yes,” she breathed, “ I heard you.”
“ Well? ”
He stood looking at her expectantly, mar-
velling at the glorious sheen of her hair, the
sparkling brown of her eyes, the glorious color
of her cheeks.
“ Well? ” he repeated masterfully, almost
roughly. “ What is your answer? Do you
love me? ”
Merry devils danced in her eyes and her daring
lips formed an alluring moue.
“ Oh, John, John,” she cried, shaking her
shapely head, “ haven’t I told you you must learn
to observe more closely? What do you suppose








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