Mystery, Suspense and
*citing Incidents
The
Known Seven
ARRY coverDALE
room on the top floor of
New York office building
*ven men, with masked
who employ a detective,
dom Cole,” to assist them
ding the country of a gang
tthroats, who are also en-
I in the ancient pastime of
g to manufacture gold.
addition to these activities
lchemists encourage one of
members, a skilled surgeon,
rform operations, producing
y upon victims whom they
not yet ready to dispatch.
e unfortunates are exhibited
e torture chamber for the
l effect upon others there
nbled.
ret meetings, tortures,
ed murderers and love are
1termingled as to make a
ing story.
... B U R T C O M P A NY
shers - New York
_-
* ---- -


/





THE UNKNOWN SEVEN





T H E
UNKNOWN SEVEN
BY HARRY CoverDALE
A. L. BURT COMPANY
Publishers New York
Bublished by arrangement with Chelsea House
Printed in U. º. A.


Copyright, 1923
By CHELSEA HOUSE
The Unknown Seven
(Printed in the United States of America)
All rights reserved, including that of translation into foreign
languages, including the Scandinavian.


VII.
VIII.
IX.
XI.
XII.
XIII.
XIV.
XV.
XVI.
XVII.
XVIII.
XIX.
CONTENTS
THE WOMAN IN THE LIMOUSINE . . .
TEMPTATION . . . . . . . . .
THE TEMPTRESS SPEAKs. . . . . .
“YELLow” . . . . . . . . . .
DISGUISED . . . . . . . . . .
DOCTOR LATHAM . . . . . . . .
CoLE RECEIVES A WARNING . . .
THE UNKNOWN SEVEN .
THE RED LIGHT
PURSUIT
BEHIND THE LOCKED DOOR .
IN Four Rounds .
THE MORNING's MAIL
CoLE's RUSE
THE TRAITOR UNMASKED .
GOLD
IN ROOM 2512 .
THE LIGHT IN THE WINDow . . . .
A WARNING . . . . . . . .
vii
117
I25
I32
I4I
I53
171
186
2OI
217
228


- e. e.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER
XX.
XXI.
XXII.
XXIII.
XXIV.
xxv.
XXVI.
xxvii.
XXVIII.
THE VENEER OF INTELLIGENCE
THE FACE AT THE WINDow .
A DUEL of WITs . . . .
THE SEVENTH INGREDIENT . .
CORNERED - - - s w te -
-
FACE TO FACE . . . . . .
A CRY . . . . . . . . .
THE Way Out • * * * *
THE ENEMY STRIKEs . . . . .
Pagº
239
256
27I
288
299
309
3I4


THE UNKNOWN SEVEN
CHAPTER I
THE WOMAN IN THE LIMOUSINE
TANDING in the dark doorway of a delicatessen
shop, Kingdon Cole gazed, through the fog
and drizzle of the October night, at a second-story
window across the street. The brim of a slouch
hat shaded his eyes and most of his face. His
lean figure was draped in a mackintosh that reached
almost to his feet. The upward slant of the cigar,
clamped between his teeth, hinted at total absorp-
tion in what he saw.
The building that claimed his attention was an
ordinary three-story structure of murky brick.
Flanked by a warehouse on one side and a second-
hand clothing store on the other, it presented a
sullen and gloomy aspect to the watcher across the
street. Yet there was something in the very drab-
ness of the house and the chill atmosphere which
hung over it that might have appealed to the im-
agination of a man like Kingdon Cole.
A man's head and shoulders were dimly silhouetted
against the lighted window shade at which he was
looking so fixedly. For half an hour or longer
the figure had not stirred. The rigid poise of the
head and the stiff set of the shoulders suggested
that the man at the window was engaged in a
task that occupied his whole mind.
Cole struck a match and, holding it in his cupped


IO THE UNKNOWN SEVEN
hands, lighted his dead cigar. The flickering light
shone for an instant on fingers that were long,
slim, and finely tapering, the fingers of a man of
great mental energy and a compelling personality.
“Wonder what the learned Professor Carmody
finds so interesting,” he mumbled. “Some scientific
treatise, very likely, or perhaps it is yy
He lowered his gaze, as he vaguely sensed that
a pair of eyes was trying to pierce the gloom in
which he stood. What with the wet night and the
lateness of the hour that dreary section of Bleecker
Street was all but deserted. Now and then a cross-
town car jogged along at a lumbering pace; occa-
sionally a taxicab passed on its way.
Cole looked up and down the block. The im-
pression was more distinct now. Some one was
watching him, just as he was watching the solitary
figure in the window. His senses, sharpened by
long training, told him he was under observation
even before he could trace the impression to its
source. Now he saw a limousine drawn up at the
corner, less than twenty paces from where he stood.
Its sides of burnt sienna gleamed in the blurred
lights. It seemed to lend a touch of affluence to the
squalor and dreariness of the scene. How long the
car had been there he did not know, for the window
across the street had claimed all his attention.
The car began to move, crawling, snaillike and
silent toward the point where Cole stood. It
stopped opposite the doorway that sheltered him.
He fancied that he saw the flicker of a face behind
the curtains. Then the door opened a few inches,
and he caught a glimpse of a beckoning hand.


THE WOMAN IN THE LIMOUSINE II
His eyes narrowed under their puckering brows.
The monotony of his vigil was being broken in a
strange way, and the slow twisting of his lips sig-
nified that the interruption was not altogether dis-
pleasing. Once more he glanced up at the window
across the street, noticing that the shadowy figure
had not stirred. Then he crossed the sidewalk, and
instantly the door of the limousine was flung wide.
“Won't you step in, Mr. Cole?” asked a voice.
Though his life had inured him to surprises,
Cole started a little. It was odd that the occupant
of the car should address him by name. The in-
terior was dark, but in the shadows he saw the
figure of a woman.
“You are very patient, Mr. Cole,” the voice con-
tinued. “You are wasting your time, however. It
isn't likely that Professor Carmody will go out to-
night, so you might as well jump in.”
A sharp hunching of Cole's shoulders registered
surprise number two. It was all very mystifying.
Not only did the occupant of the car know his
name, but she seemed familiar with his business
as well. He liked her voice, a deep soprano with a
faintly playful undertone. For a moment he studied
the long, slender lines of her figure, faintly dis-
cernible in the dusk and melting, here and there,
into a background of saffron-hued cushions.
“You hesitate? I happen to know that Professor
Carmody is in for the night and that your vigilance
is useless.”
Cole looked at her intently. The mist, the drizzle,
and the blurred sheen from the street lamps seemed


H2 THE UNKNOWN SEVEN
to lend a touch of unreality to what he saw and
heard.
“What do you know about Professor Carmody,”
he demanded.
“A great deal more than you do. It's quite
possible that I am in a position to give you some
valuable information. At any rate my car is more
comfortable than a dark doorway.”
She leaned forward slightly, and there was a trace
of mockery on her faintly parted lips. “Not afraid,
are you, Mr. Cole?”
He gave a low laugh at the implied dare. With
a shrug he stepped inside the car and sat down
beside her. She picked up the speaking tube and,
turning her head away from Cole, said something
which he could not hear. In an instant the car
was in motion.
“You seem to know a great deal,” he observed,
trying to obtain a glimpse of her face under the
billowing brim that shaded it.
“And you are anxious to learn how much more
I know. Isn't it so, Mr. Cole? It was neither
vulgar curiosity nor adventurousness that prompted
you to accept my invitation to ride with me. You
accepted only because you hoped to learn something.
Having heard me speak your name and mention
Professor Carmody you naturally thought it might
be profitable to cultivate my acquaintance.”
“Perhaps so,” said Cole dryly. “What do you
know about me aside from my name and my interest
in the estimable professor?”
“A great deal,” was the surprisingly prompt reply.
“You are a student of criminology, a follower in the


THE WOMAN IN THE LIMOUSINE I3
- footsteps of Lombroso, Pinel, and Prichard, though
you by no means accept their theories. You have
written two books on crime and criminals. They
are too scientific for the general reader, I have
been told, but experts on the subject regard them
as authoritative. Perhaps some day I shall try to
read them.”
“I fear you won't find them very interesting,”
replied Cole. “What else?”
“You live in a small apartment in Gramercy
Park, which also serves as your office. Two years
ago you did a very brilliant piece of work on the
Wilmerding murder case, though you magnani-
mously, or for reasons of your own, let the police
claim the credit for the results. You follow crimi-
nal investigations largely as a scientific pursuit. If
you cared to devote all your time to it you could
make a great success, but you accept only such cases
as happen to interest you personally. As a result
you lead a quiet and somewhat precarious existence,
deriving your sole pleasure from your work and
such inexpensive amusements as books, music, and,
on rare occasions, the theater.”
“You seem to have taken considerable pains look-
ing me up,” he remarked.
“Oh, I haven't told you all I know yet. I have
learned a number of things about your private life
and personal habits, but we needn't go into those
things now.”
“Are you equally well informed in regard to
Professor Carmody?”
“Not quite. The professor is a riddle. To all
outward appearances he is interested in nothing but


I4 THE UNKNOWN SEVEN
his experiments and his musty old books. He
seems to be living in that kind of neighborhood
by preference, because he isn't so apt to be bothered
by meddling neighbors. His house is said to con-
tain one of the best-equipped laboratories of its
kind in the world. That's only a rumor, of course.
The professor doesn't encourage visitors. To the
few people who have talked with him he is what
the novelists call a man of mystery. He comes
and goes without speaking to any one, and his life
is a closed book. As far as I know, only one
person has been inside his house in a year, and
that person never came out.”
“Oh, you know that!”
“Yes, I am one of the very few who are aware
of the fact. Let me see, it's about three weeks
since Malcolm Reeves disappeared. His relatives,
your clients, in other words, have reason to believe
that he visited Professor Carmody on the night of
his disappearance. No wonder the case fascinates
you, Mr. Cole. Disappearances are always interest-
ing, but especially so when a mysterious person like
Professor Carmody is involved.”
Cole regarded her in frank amazement, but her
head was now slightly bowed, and all he could see
of her face was the curve of the chin.
“The relatives did well to put the case in your
hands,” she went on. “You are both capable and
discreet and, as I presume you know, there were
excellent reasons for not reporting Reeves' disap-
pearance to the police. Are you making satisfactory
progress?”
“My clients seem satisfied.”


• THE WOMAN IN THE LIMOUSINE I5
“You have not yet paid the professor a visit?”
“What would be the use?”
“You are right, of course. It would only put
him on his guard. You prefer not to let him know
that he is under suspicion.” She laughed gently, as
if amused at something. “Besides, it is doubtful
whether a search of Carmody's house would reveal
any clews to Reeves' fate. The professor is a
chemist, and I understand there are certain chemical
processes by which bodies can be made to disappear
completely, leaving no trace.”
“Then you think Reeves has been murdered?”
“Don’t you?” she asked quickly.
Cole smiled. Instead of answering the question
he asked another. “How can you be so sure that
Carmody will not leave his house to-night?”
“Because he has the best of reasons for staying
in.”
“What are they?”
“One is that his engagement for to-night was
canceled by telephone at four o'clock this after-
noon.”
Cole gave her a puzzled stare. “How do you know
that?”
She laughed a little. “There are ways of finding
out,” she said mysteriously. “Tapped wires, for
instance. But the professor's principal reason for
staying in to-night is that he is well aware that
you are watching him. You see, Mr. Cole, he has
more shrewdness than you have been giving him
credit for. And the fact that he is staying in on
your account shows that he has great respect for
your ability.”


I6 THE UNKNOWN SEVEN
She had raised her head a trifle, and Cole
gave her a long, bewildered glance. He half ex-
pected to see a smile on her lips, but her face was
grave.
“Are you one of Reeves' relatives?” he asked
abruptly.
“Oh, no!”
“Then how 92
“I have certain sources of information. Sources
so vast that you would be staggered if I were to
tell you of them. Please don't look at me like that.
I am not insane, neither am I subject to hallucina-
tions. The fact that I happen to know more about
the Carmody case than you do is no reflection on
your ability as an investigator. It merely shows
that your equipment is inadequate. Care to hear
imore?”
“What else do you know?”
“I know that the case you are working on is only
one minor angle of a vast mystery. The disap-
pearance of Malcolm Reeves is nothing but an in-
cident. Reeves himself was only an insignificant
puppet in one of the greatest games ever played.
All you have seen so far is one of the minor threads
in the woof. I am always mixing my metaphors,
but I know you won't mind. Mr. Cole, this affair
has ramifications that may some day rock the whole
continent.”
“I feel considerably shaken up already,” admitted
Cole. “You realize, of course, that you are using
strong words?”
“No stronger than the situation demands.”


THE WOMAN IN THE LIMOUSINE 17
“If it is as bad as all that why doesn't somebody
put a stop to it?”
“Because—” She checked herself and regarded
him intently. “Well, because the man who is big
enough for the task has not yet been found.”
Again Cole cast a glance at the window. The
car had made several turns in the last few minutes.
He caught only a blurred view of his surroundings,
but he thought they were traversing one of the
cavernlike streets near the southern tip of Man-
hattan Island.
“Have you heard enough?” she asked.
“Just enough to give me an appetite for more.”
“In that case you must trust me implicitly and
obey me without questions. I am taking desperate
chances in confiding in you, Mr. Cole, and certain
precautions are absolutely necessary. Will you
promise me on your honor that you will not try
to ascertain the location of the place I shall take
you to?”
Cole considered. There was a flavor of mystery
about the adventure that appealed to him, but the
prospect of learning something more about the
Carmody case was an even greater temptation.
From what little the woman had so far told him
he surmised that she must have unusual sources of
information. Much that she had said coincided
with what he already knew, so he had no cause to
doubt her truthfulness.
“You have my promise,” he told her.
The car made another turn, swung down a dark
block, then veered again to the south. Cole caught
a hazy glimpse of dark, towering skyscrapers.


18 THE UNKNOWN SEVEN
The woman looked at him fixedly, as if in doubt.
“I believe you are a man of your word, Mr. Cole,
but promises are sometimes broken in spite of the
best intentions. Please don't be offended.”
She produced a scarf and with a deft touch cov-
ered his eyes, securing the bandage with a firm
knot at the back. Cole chuckled amusedly. He
might be walking into a trap, but it would not be
the first time, and he had great confidence in his
ability to take care of himself in any situation that
might come up.
After continuing its zigzagging course a few min-
utes longer the car stopped. His mysterious con-
ductress touched his arm as they stepped out. She
guided him across the sidewalk and up a few stone
steps, and then they traversed what appeared to be
a long corridor. Finally Cole found himself in a
narrow inclosure which he guessed to be an elevator.
“We are in one of the tallest office buildings in
New York,” the woman whispered in his ear, “but
you're not likely to guess its name.”
The door clanked shut, and the cage shot swiftly
upward. Cole felt a rush of wind in his ears. He
maintained a languid composure, but inwardly he
marveled. A modern skyscraper was the last place
he would have expected the woman to take him to.
He tried to estimate the number of floors they were
passing. Five, ten, fifteen, twenty
Still the cage darted upward, and then it stopped
so suddenly that he caught his breath sharply. They
stepped out, and the girl removed the scarf from
his eyes. He gazed around him bewilderedly. All
about him, with the exception of a single elevator


THE WOMAN IN THE LIMOUSINE I9
shaft was a vast expanse of blank wall. There
was no sign of doors or windows, and the only
illumination was a small electric bulb in the ceiling.
“We came up in a private elevator,” the woman
explained. “This is the top floor. To the public
at large and to most of the tenants of the building
it practically does not exist. This way, Mr Cole.”
She stepped to one of the corners of the tri-
angular space, of which the elevator shaft formed
the center, and Cole followed. In the dim light
he could not see exactly what happened, but the
woman's hand went out and then a narrow portion
of the wall slid back. Thep stepped through an
aperture, and instantly the opening closed behind
them. They were in a long corridor with doors
on each side. -
“Surprised?” she asked, starting to lead him down
the hall.
“Rather. Never expected to find such mysterious
contrivances in a modern office building.”
Her only reply was a low laugh. The floor of
the corridor was luxuriously carpeted; the doors
on either side had a solid appearance. Cole's amaze-
ment grew. He wondered what was beyond the
massive doors and what was the nature of this
establishment that was hidden behind blank walls.
He had little time for speculation, for his com-
panion opened a door and bade him enter.
“Excuse me, Mr. Cole,” she murmured when she
had switched on the light. “I shall be back directly.”
The door closed, and she was gone. Alone, Cole
looked about him, and his eyes opened wide in
astonishment.


CHAPTER II
TEMPTATION
OR a moment Cole forgot that he was in a
building devoted to the pursuits of commerce.
The room in which he stood, bordered by walls
of paneled walnut, was worthy of a Fifth Avenue
mansion. It struck him as a bit grotesque. From
an elevator he had stepped, through a blank wall,
into a magnificence that fairly dazzled him. It was
like an “Arabian Nights” adventure. As he looked
about him he saw quiet elegance everywhere, with-
out a taint of showiness. For some time he stood
lost in admiration, then he noticed that the room
had no windows. A moment later he discovered
that the door was locked on the outside. Despite
the splendor that surrounded him he was virtually
a prisoner.
He sat down and smoked a cigarette, waiting for
his strange conductress to return. Evidently the
walls were solidly built, for no sounds reached him.
The air was fresh and pure despite the absence of
windows, hinting that there was a concealed venti-
lator somewhere in the room.
The armchair was comfortable, and he stretched
out his lean figure, slightly short of six feet. The
man suggested mental force rather than bodily
strength, but a great surprise awaited any antagonist
who underestimated Cole's physical prowess. He
was far stronger than the average man, and his


TEMPTATION 2I
endurance was phenomenal. His gray eyes, with a
faint humorous twinkle in their depths, were fixed
on the door. His dark face, slightly lined about
the mouth and the outer corner of the eyes, bore
a look of mild expectancy. In moments of repose
he looked as though he had not a care in the world.
His friends often wondered how he managed to
maintain the freshness and sparkle suggestive of a
recent needle shower. Perhaps it was because he
was thoroughly in love with his work and had
earned to shake off the minor frets and irritations
of life.
In the midst of his musings the door opened,
and he stared rather rudely at the vision that en-
tered. It was the woman, and she had undergone
an amazing transformation since he last saw her.
He wondered whether the shimmering gown she
wore had been designed by Poiret himself. Its deli-
cate rose color afforded a charming contrast to her
complexion, a sort of luminous white that somehow
escaped being pale. Standing there, with a faint
Smile on her lips, her face fringed by an aureole
of fine-spun gold, she was easily the most bewitching
woman Cole had ever seen.
He rose, bowed, and gazed appreciatively at the
simple, but strikingly effective, ornament she wore
at her throat.
“Sorry to have kept you waiting,” she murmured.
“Sit down, please, and smoke as much as you like.
I want to talk with you.”
Cole sat down. He wondered if she had arrayed
herself like this for the sole purpose of having a
talk with him.


22 THE UNKNOWN SEVEN
“You promised to tell me something more about
the Carmody case,” he reminded her. “I suppose
you brought me to this charming place so that we
might have a quiet talk without danger of interrup-
tion or eavesdropping.”
She sat down a short distance from him. By
degrees the smile faded from her lips. A curiously
solemn expression crept into her face. “Haven't I
told you enough, Mr. Cole?”
“What little you told me was only a provocation.
It gave me a taste for more. By the way, you
have the advantage over me. Won't you tell me
your name?”
“You may call me Miss Brown.”
“The name doesn't fit you,” he objected.
“Names never do fit. That’s one of the ironies
of existence. For the present, until we know each
other better, it will have to be Miss Brown. I had
to tell you a little about the Carmody case in order
to get your attention. I hope I convinced you that
it is quite useless for you to continue at work on
a case that is so enormous in scope and presents
such insuperable difficulties, Mr. Cole.” A pleading
note had come into her voice. “Can anything per-
suade you to drop the Carmody case?”
She bent forward a little. With hands clasped
across her knee, she studied him intently, and Cole
looked into the deepest, bluest eyes he had ever
Seen.
“Drop the Carmody case!” he exclaimed.
“You must drop it, Mr. Cole! If you knew
more about it, what terrible things you are going
up against, you would willingly drop it without


TEMPTATION 23
further argument. You would recognize your utter
helplessness in the matter, not to mention a number
of other things.”
Cole was momentarily speechless. He found him-
self strangely impressed by her big, sorcerous eyes,
full of mute pleading and entreaty.
“I don't understand. You don't realize what you
are saying. Why should I drop the case?”
“Because of the things I have told you.”
Cole laughed. “They are only an added incentive
for me to go on with it.”
She drew a long breath. “That's your man's way
of looking at things. The greater the dangers and
difficulties the more determined you are to forge
ahead. You don't stop to consider the price, or
estimate the cost. The wreckage you scatter about
you means nothing to you. All you think of is
the gratification of your boundless ambition. Mr.
Cole, won't you forgo your foolish pride and do
what I ask?”
Her eyes held him despite his will. There was
a look of terror in their depths that exerted a subtle
appeal upon him. He got to his feet and tried
to shake off the fascination of her beauty and her
magnetic personality.
“Impossible,” he declared. “If you brought me
here in the hope of inducing me to drop the Car-
mody case, your time and effort are wasted.”
“Please, Mr. Cole ! Forget that you ever heard
of this terrible case. Tell your clients in the morn-
ing that you will have nothing further to do
with it.”
“That wouldn't alter matters. They would


ſº THE UNKNOWN SEVEN
promptly accept my resignation and engage somebody
else.”
“There is only oue Kingdon Cole.”
“That’s a very neat compliment, but it won't bear
analysis. I haven’t accomplished anything very
wonderful, and another man could finish what I
have begun.”
She was silent for a time, her big, luminous eyes
regarding him imploringly. “If you won't drop
the case for your own sake, because of the terrible
dangers involved, then I beg you to do so for
my sake.”
“For your sake? Really, Miss—er—Brown, I
don’t understand. What is your interest in the
Carmody case?”
She stepped up and clutched his hand. The
touch of her fingers sent a thrill through him. Her
eyes were moist, and the curve beneath her throat
rose and fell with accelerated rhythm. “Yes, for
my sake. I can’t explain, except to say that awful
things will happen to me if you go on. Death
would be as nothing in comparison. Doesn't a
woman's soul mean anything to you, Mr. Cole?”
Cole looked down into her eyes, while her fingers
spasmodically clutched his hand. Far into their
blue depths he gazed, and suddenly his face un-
derwent a change. His lips curled a trifle, and a
hard glint came into his eyes. Somewhat roughly
he released his hand.
“Very touching,” he dryly remarked, “but I
don't see the connection between the Carmody case
and a woman's soul.”
She drew back with a little sob of bafflement.


26 THE UNKNOWN SEVEN
opened it, then preceded him down the hall. Cole
guessed that his little adventure was over, and he
felt a twinge of disappointment at the thought that,
in all probability, he would never learn the meaning
of her puzzling behavior. No doubt she would try
to blindfold him again before conducting him away
from the place, and he was prepared to raise strenu-
ous objections.
But it appeared Miss Brown was not yet ready
to let him go. She stopped before one of the
massive doors that had already excited his curiosity,
and knocked twice. It opened quickly and noise-
lessly. In a moment, before he realized what he
was doing, Cole was inside, and the door closed
at his back.
The room was so dimly lighted that at first he
could distinguish nothing but bare, gloomy walls.
Miss Brown, who had followed him into the room,
hastened forward and seemed to melt away in the
dusk, leaving him to wonder what new turn his
adventure was taking. Gradually, as his eyes grew
accustomed to the gloom, he was able to see ob-
jects with some degree of clearness. He was in a
long, narrow room, and what he saw was in keep-
ing with the other strange things that he had wit-
nessed and experienced in this surprising establish-
Iment.
A number of shadowy figures were seated around
a circular table in the center of the room. He
counted seven of them, and at first he had a
ludicrous impression that there were only blank
spaces where their faces should have been. Then,
as his pupils continued to respond to the strain im-


TEMPTATION 27
posed by the dim light, he saw that each man wore
a mask. It was only a strip of cloth, with tiny
slits over the eyes, but in the dusk it was the only
covering that was needed to make recognition im-
possible.
Again Cole was struck with a sense of unreality.
The men, sitting stiffly erect in their chairs, caused
him to wonder whether he was in the midst of
some ghostly séance. He felt their eyes search-
ing him through the vents in the masks. The gloom
and the silence gave an added illusory touch to the
scene. Cole had to shake himself before he could
realize that he was on the top floor of a modern
skyscraper.
Miss Brown stepped behind one of the chairs
and held a brief whispered conversation with its
occupant. The latter nodded, and the girl slipped
away toward the door. A moment later it closed
behind her, and the man, with whom she had been
talking, indicated that Cole was to step forward.
With a shrug he complied, and the masked faces
stirred slightly as he approached. For a full min-
ute nothing was said, and again he felt the sharp
and steady scrutiny of seven pairs of eyes. Finally
the man who had beckoned him spoke. “Mr. Cole,
how much will you take to drop the Carmody case?”
Cole could not help but laugh. The words, spoken
with a directness and a matter-of-factness that left
nothing to the imagination, had shattered the illu-
sion completely. In an instant the spell of unreality
was broken. He knew he was dealing with practical
men who were in the habit of reducing everything
to terms of dollars and cents. A blunt reply came


28 THE UNKNOWN SEVEN
to his lips, but his desire to learn more of these.
strange men caused him to hold it back.
“Suppose we put all the cards on the table,” he sug-
gested. “I don’t like to talk business in the dark.
Who are you, and what is your objection to my
connection with the Carmody case?”
“We are not here to answer questions,” declared
the one who seemed to be acting as spokesman for
the others. “All I care to say is that, because of
a peculiar combination of circumstances, it is to our
advantage to pay you liberally for withdrawing
from the case. What's your price, Mr. Cole?”
Under ordinary circumstances, Cole would have
been indignant at this cool assumption that every,
man has his price, but now his dominant emotion
was curiosity. He could not understand why they
seemed so intent upon persuading him to sever his
connection with the affair, but what Miss Brown
had said about the vast ramifications of the Carmody
case suggested that they had ample reasons for what
they were doing.
“Let me get this straight,” he said evenly. “You
are willing to pay me my price for withdrawing
from the Carmody case. Are there any strings to
the proposition?”
The other chuckled dryly. “I wouldn't call them
strings, exactly. They are only gossamer threads.
In addition to retiring from the case you are to
give us a full and veracious report of what you have
discovered to date in connection with the disappear-
ance of Malcolm Reeves.”
“I see,” said Cole. “Anything else?”
“Just one thing more. In addition to withdraw-


TEMPTATION 29
ing from your present connection with the case and
turning the information you possess over to us,
you are to come over to our side and put your
ability at our disposal. We are ready to pay you
handsomely for your services, either on a contingent
basis, or in the form of a weekly salary.”
“Very generous,” decared Cole, with a faint trace
of sarcasm. “Your proposition is that, for a con-
sideration, I am to betray my present clients
and—”
“Betray is a harsh word,” objected the spokesman
for the group. +
“Truthful terms are usually harsh,” Cole re-
marked. “Let’s not quibble over words. In addi-
tion to the amount, which you are willing to pay
me for betraying my clients, you offer to reward
me liberally for certain services that you require.
May I ask what they are?”
“You will learn soon enough if you accept our
proposition. Let me state that we have unlimited
funds at our disposal and stand ready to pay you
well. It would be no exaggeration to say that in a
short time you should be a rich man if you accept
our offer. In view of our liberality don't you think
it behooves you to be less squeamish and ask fewer
questions?”
“I suppose it is in deucedly bad taste for me to
argue with a man who offers me a fortune on a
silver platter,” Cole admitted. “Just the same I
can't help wondering why you are offering such a
glittering bribe to one who is practically unknown
in his profession.”
The man gave an amused chuckle. “Don’t worry


3O THE UNKNOWN SEVEN
about that, Mr. Cole. We are not in the habit of
buying pigs in a poke. You have been under obser-
vation for some time.”
“So I gathered from what the bewitching Miss—
Brown told me.”
“We have learned that you have a great deal of
ability. You are fearless and persevering. You
have qualities that the average professional detec-
tive sadly lacks, such as tact, polish, and a magnetic
personality. In short, you are precisely the kind
of man we need. We have reason to believe that
you have discovered certain interesting facts in con-
nection with Malcolm Reeves' disappearance, facts
which would naturally become our property if you
came over to our side.”
Cole marveled at the extent of the man's knowl-
edge. It was true that he had picked up several
stray facts which, when considered in conjunction
with the known circumstances of Reeves' disappear-
ance, made a fairly interesting showing. His glance
wandered over the circle of veiled faces. Each of
the seven men was watching him intently through the
slits in his mask.
“We are waiting for your decision, Mr. Cole,”
remarked the spokesman after a pause. “If our
proposition appeals to you, name your price.”
Cole pretended to hesitate. He hoped to learn
a little more before he closed the interview. He
wondered how far these men would go in their
efforts to induce him to betray his clients and
transfer his allegiance to themselves. “Aren't you
forgetting something?” he asked. “Do you realize


TEMPTATION 3I
that a man who has been bought once will probably
sell himself again?”
Though he could not see, he fancied the spokes-
man's eyes were twinkling behind the mask.
“We have considered everything, Mr. Cole. You
wouldn’t sell yourself except to a higher bidder, and
it isn't likely any one will outbid us. If such a situa-
tion should arise, however, we would know how to
handle it. What is your price?”
“Suppose you name the price you are willing to
pay?”
There was a craning of necks, and nods and sub-
dued whispers passed around the circle. Evidently
the seven construed his words as meaning that he
was yielding. The spokesman unlocked a drawer
in front of him and placed a small package on the
table.
“Twenty-five thousand dollars,” he remarked im-
pressively. “If you are in doubt as to the amount,
or if you suspect that I am handing you stage
money, you will be permitted to examine it in the
light.”
He handed the package to Cole. “Remember
that this is only your retaining fee, so to speak.
There will be lots more coming to you if you
decide to throw in your lot with us.”
Cole felt the crisp fiber of the bills. He did
not doubt that the money was genuine or that the
package contained the exact amount mentioned by
the spokesman. Whatever else these men might do,
he did not think they would stoop to petty cheating.
An odd sensation surged through him as he weighed
the currency in the palm of his hand. It was more


32 THE UNKNOWN SEVEN
money than had ever before come within his reach.
Of a sudden he remembered some of the things he
had been compelled to deny himself because of his
slender and uncertain income. Until this moment,
when he held the wherewithal in his hand, it had not
occurred to him that he was missing any of the good
things in life. He had accepted his privations, as a
matter of course, with a smile or a shrug, according
to his mood of the moment.
For a few seconds longer he gave himself over
to thrill of possession, and then he tossed the bundle
of currency down on the table. “It isn't enough,”
he declared.
'A chorus of murmurs went around the circular
table. The veiled faces strained forward a little.
Once again Cole fancied the spokesman's eyes were
twinkling through the orifices in the mask.
“Splendid, Mr. Cole,” said the man approvingly.
“I didn't think twenty-five thousand would satisfy
you, but I wanted to make sure. As a matter of
fact, if you had accepted such a paltry amount,
we would have broken off the negotiations instantly.
We don’t want a man who holds himself cheap.
Here”—again he opened the drawer in front of
him—“is another twenty-five thousand. That makes
fifty. Quite a neat sum for a man whose income
last year was only a trifle over four thousand.”
“How did you know that?”
“Income-tax reports,” said the man.
Cole took one bundle of currency in each hand.
He was no longer marveling at the surprising
sources of information that seemed to be open to
these men. For the moment all his senses were


TEMPTATION 33
centered on the wealth that lay in his palms. A
flash of self-revelation came to him, and he was
surprised and frightened by it. He had never
known that mere money could give him such a
delectable sensation. In the past, as a passive on-
looker, he had smiled tolerantly at other men's
scramble for wealth. With philosophic eyes he had
watched the money-mad procession sweep by him.
Now he found that the sheer touch of the currency
sent a contagion through his veins, awakening
strange emotions within him.
The sensation put an indefinable fear into him,
fear of himself and the weakness he had just dis-
covered. Of a sudden the currency seemed to
scorch his palms. He shrugged, and the spell was
broken. With an inward paroxysm he flung the
money down on the table. “Not even that is
enough,” he announced in slightly dazed tones, like
one just awakening from a dream.
The spokesman's head came up a little. With a
shrug and an indistinct mutter he once more opened
the drawer, but Cole laid a detaining hand on his
sleeve.
“Wait!” he said quietly. “You are going ahead
on the idea that every man has his price. You're
mistaken. There isn't money enough in the whole
United States treasury to buy me.”
There came a hush, and then a ripple of com-
motion went around the table. It died instantly
as the spokesman raised a silencing hand. He tilted
his head back, and through the holes in the mask
his eyes bored into Cole's face. For a time not a
sound was heard in the room. Finally the spokes-


34 THE UNKNOWN SEVEN
man gave a short, contemptuous laugh. “I see,” he
declared. “You’re a weakling like most men.
You're a slave to the absurd thing we call con-
science. I had hoped that you were one of the
rare exceptions.”
“Wrong again,” said Cole, smiling. “It isn't
conscience. Anyway, I wouldn't call it that. It
is only pride, a foolish pride, perhaps. I want to
go through life knowing that I can look every man
straight in the eye and tell him to go to the devil
if necessary. I couldn't do that if I were to sell
myself. I should become a despicable thing in my
own eyes, and life wouldn't be worth living after
that. I don't suppose you understand, but that's
just how I feel.”
Seven pairs of eyes were leveled at Cole's fase
as his short, crisp sentences fell on the tense air.
Then came silence, a long and oddly vibrant silence
during which Cole experienced an unaccountable
feeling that his life hung in the balance. He
could neither understand it nor trace it to its source,
but the nameless sense of danger grew more distinct
with every moment.
By instinct his hand went to the hip pocket in
which he always carried a small, but reliable, pistol.
Before his hands could touch the weapon a strange
thing happened. The spokesman’s arm described a
slight movement in the dusk, and in a twinkling
utter darkness fell. Cole stood in blackness so in-
tense that it seemed as though he could touch it.
His fingers found the handle of the pistol, but in
the next instant his hand fell to his side. In that
impenetrable darkness the weapon was of no more


TEMPTATION 35
avail than a toy. He heard a faint scraping of
chairs, then a patter of feet. He groped for the
chair where the spokesman had sat, but it was
empty. Gradually the faint sounds ceased, and then
came an engulfing silence. It was as if every mani-
festation of life had been drained out of the black-
ness that surrounded him.
Silence—darkness—solitude. Cole, as he dropped
into the spokesman's chair, felt as if the three words
had suddenly acquired a new and more powerful
significance.


CHAPTER III
THE TEMPTRESS SPEAKS
IVE minutes passed. Cole could no longer con-
trol his restlessness. He got up from the
chair and went gropingly across the heavily carpeted
floor. His footsteps made scarcely a sound, and he
had a queer sensation that the darkness and silence
were insinuating themselves into his very pores. It
was as if a magic spell had fallen over him. He
could no longer trust his reason or his senses.
He stopped short as a faint whisper went through
the dead silence. With head thrown back and
straining his ears, he listened. Again the whisper
came, trailing through the blackness like a disem-
bodied breath. He groped in the direction whence
the sound came, and now he could hear it quite
distinctly.
“Mr. Cole l’”
Tracing the sound vibrations, he crossed the floor
and brought up against the wall. Again his name
was spoken, and now he had an impression that the
speaker was only a few feet away. He thought
he recognized the voice.
“Mr. Cole l’”
His highly sensitized ears gauged and dissected
each small fraction of a syllable. He knew he was
not mistaken. The voice belonged to the woman
who had introduced herself by the absurdly inap-
propriate name of Miss Brown.


THE TEMPTRESS SPEAKS 37
“Where are you?” he asked. He fumbled with
his hands in the dark, but found nothing but empti-
ness. He turned and ran his fingers up and down
the wall until he encountered a metallic object im-
bedded in the paneling. Again his name was called,
and he gave a short laugh as he realized that the
sounds were coming to him through the mouthpiece
of a speaking tube. The touch of the cold metal
against his fingers seemed to shatter an illusion.
Simple though the contrivance was, it smacked of
up-to-dateness. A sense of reality broke the spell
which the weird events of the night had cast over
him.
“Hello,” he spoke into the mouthpiece. “You,
Miss Brown?”
A brief pause, and then her voice came to him
in hurried tones that bespoke intense excitement.
“Yes, Mr. Cole. I must warn you. I feel respon-
sible for your predicament. Awful things will hap-
pen if you persist in your headstrong course. You
must abandon it and accept the proposition that was
made to you. Otherwise—”
Her voice quavered and broke. The suspended
sentence and the words she had left unspoken im-
pressed Cole grimly. He could almost see her,
white and shuddering at the other end of the
speaking tube. Though he knew she was a clever
actress, there was an earnestness in her tones that
gave him pause.
“You mean these men will kill me unless I accept
their vile terms?” he asked.
“Oh, they will do worse than that! They are
terrible men, Mr. Cole, and they are in a desperate


38 THE UNKNOWN SEVEN
temper. Death, a hundred deaths, would be prefer-
able to the thing they intend doing. Won't you
come to your senses before it's too late? Oh,
please—”
Cole laughed into the mouthpiece. “Compose
yourself, Miss Brown. Don't worry on my ac-
count. I’ve been in tight corners before, and I
always wriggled out of them somehow. I shall do
So this time.”
A sob sounded at the other end, and then all was
quiet. Cole drew away from the speaking tube. It
might have been only another bit of clever acting,
but Miss Brown's warning had left him in a state
of tingling suspense. She had hinted at dire things
that were to happen to him, and Cole tried to tell
himself that she had only been exercising her im-
agination. Such things belonged in the realm of
romance and melodrama. It was laughable to think
that they might happen on the top floor of a sky-
scraper, located close to the world’s financial nerve
center. The incongruity of it struck Cole as quite
amusing.
He chuckled, but in the next instant he sharply
caught his breath. A sound resembling that of a
clicking lock reached his ears. He heard nothing
more, but he had a feeling that some one had en-
tered the room, that he was no longer alone. In-
stinctively he braced himself to resist an attack.
His ears were keyed to catch the slightest sound;
every muscle in his body had the tension of a
cocked trigger.
He stood with his back against the wall, all his
senses quiveringly alert. He could neither hear


THE TEMPTRESS SPEAKS 39
nor see, but he knew some one was steadily ap-
proaching from the farther end of the long room.
Presently he could hear sounds of breathing, but
the prowler's progress was still muffled by the heavy
carpet. Now a little thud signified that the in-
truder had walked up against the circular table, so
he could be no more than a few feet from where
Cole stood. The fact that he could not see who it
was that was coming toward him made the suspense
nerve-racking.
Suddenly he thought of matches. He searched
his pockets, but the little case in which he usually
carried them was empty. Somewhere in the room
there must be an electric-light switch, but it was
not likely he could find it in the dark.
He peered sharply into the blackness. Now
his ears caught a pawing sound, like that of some
one crawling on hands and knees. He bent forward
a little, shoulders squared, for he knew the prowler
was only a foot or two away. Evidently he hoped
Cole was unaware of his entrance and expected to
take his victim by surprise.
A fumbling hand swept Cole's knees, and he kicked
out his foot with great force, foiling the attempt
to trip him. A startled yell testified to the effective-
ness of the kick, but in the next instant Cole knew
that his adversary had risen to his feet and was
changing his tactics. His fist struck out, but it
landed on a body hard and firm as rock, and the
only apparent result of the blow was a stinging
sensation in his knuckles. He tried to strike again,
but now his shoulders were seized in a powerful grip


THE TEMPTRESS SPEAKS 4t
on his back. For a few moments he drank huge
gulps of air into his straining lungs. Then, with
the elastic swiftness of a spring suddenly released,
he leaped to his feet. With one hand he located
his adversary, with the other he drove a savage
blow straight into the man's face.
A short cry of pain and rage broke from the
other's lips. His hands fumbled at Cole's throat
for a strangle hold, but the merciless hammering
of the latter's fists drove him steadily backward.
Whenever his fingers tightened around Cole's wind-
pipe a rain of smashing blows to nose and mouth
forced him to relax his hold and retreat a little
farther toward the wall. Cole, his strength electri-
fied by the joy of battle, did not notice that his
knuckles were bruised. Time and again, with a
sureness of aim that surprised himself, he drove
them into the other's torn and mangled face. Al-
ready a stertorous breathing told that his adversary
was becoming groggy. Cole summoned all his
strength for a final knock-out blow.
He flung his arm backward, and in the same in-
stant the other uttered a loud yell. Cole cut it
short with a crashing thrust of his fist. With a
gasp his opponent went to the floor. For a moment
he gave himself over to the thrill of victory, but
in the next instant he was all alertness. A faint
click signified that the door had opened, and now
several pairs of feet were stealing swiftly across
the floor.
Cole whirled around on his heels, but a stalwart
form collided with him, nearly sweeping him off
his feet. Another hurled himself upon him from
r


42 THE UNKNOWN SEVEN
behind, and a third jerked his legs from under him.
With a sharp sense of bafflement, Cole fell headlong
to the floor. He struck out with hands and feet,
fighting with desperate vehemence, determined to
inflict all the injury he could on his opponents.
But he was outnumbered three to one, and some-
thing of his strength had been spent in the earlier
encounter. Defiantly he met the onslaught, but
he was overpowered by numbers. Eventually they
laid him on his back, and then his adversaries
shackled his hands and feet with stout cord. He
thought they were handling him with strange gentle-
mess, and he wondered if they were saving him for
another ordeal. He remembered, as he was picked
up and carried, that Miss Brown had said some-
thing about a fate worse than a hundred deaths.
In silence the little procession passed through a
door, and presently Cole was placed on a cot. In
a few moments the men walked out, and once more
he was left alone in impenetrable darkness. Not
a word had been spoken by his captors, and he
had not obtained a single glimpse of their faces.
The whole episode had been enacted in silence and
under cover of darkness.
The door opened just as his mind was shaking
off the numbness that had seized it when he fell.
Some one walked up to the cot where he lay. For
a few moments no sound was heard save the slow
breathing of the two men. Finally the other spoke,
and Cole recognized the voice of the one who had
acted as spokesman for the group around the cir-
cular table.
“You’re an obstinate man, Mr. Cole. We have


THE TEMPTRESS SPEAKS 43
made you a very flattering proposition, and you have
seen fit to reject it. I have come to offer you one
more chance to comply with our wishes.”
“And if I refuse,” said Cole evenly, “you will
kill me, I suppose. I am beginning to think you
are quite capable of it.”
“Oh, no!” The other man laughed softly. “We
know you are not the kind of man that's afraid
of death. Something stronger than fear for your
life is needed to bend you to our will. But we will
bend you sooner or later. Make no mistake about
that.”
The words were spoken in a tone of calm as-
surance that impressed Cole against his will.
“How, if I may ask?”
“By a form of persuasion that is far more
powerful than the fear of death. After all, death
is nothing. Only a dip into a void. A little suffer-
ing, perhaps, and then nothingness. There are
things that are far worse. Mr. Cole, did you
ever stop to consider what your life would amount
to if you should suddenly lose your mind?”
“What?” Cole gave an involuntary shudder.
“Suppose that keen mind of yours should become
a blank. Suppose that your wonderful mental facul-
ties were to desert you, that you were to become
a leering, tottering wretch, inspiring loathing and
horror in your fellow men. Can you picture such
a fate, Mr. Cole? Death would be a thousand
times more merciful, yet you would lack the in-
centive to kill yourself. What could be worse?”
Cole was silent. The darkness gave free rein to


44 THE UNKNOWN SEVEN
his imagination, and the picture he saw sent a cold
shiver down his spine.
“All that life means to you would be blotted
out,” the other went on with remorseless eloquence.
“Instead of matching your wits against a man's
problems, as at present, you would probably be de-
voting your time to childish amusements. Imagine
yourself placing buttons in a row and building
houses out of blocks. You would be dragging a
useless and broken body through life until 25
“Stop it!” said Cole. “You’re in more danger
of losing your mind than I am. Yours is already
a bit twisted, unless I'm mistaken.”
“Don’t fool yourself. Unless you give us a
reasonable guarantee that you will comply with our
wishes, you will be a grimacing lunatic by morn-
ing. A very simple operation on the brain will do
it. Among those seven men whom you saw around
the circular table is a noted surgeon. Everything,
including the ether and the instruments, will be
ready in a few minutes. There is still time for
to come to your senses.”
In the back of Cole's mind was a hazy suspicion
that he was dreaming, but the other's calm and
Softly penetrating tones gave him a feeling of
reality.
“You wouldn’t ” he began.
“Ah, wouldn't we? Just wait and see. Perhaps
I can convince you.” t
Cole heard his footfalls cross the floor, and then
a door opened and closed. For a few minutes he
was alone, trying to arrange in an orderly process
the odds and ends of the night's amazing happen-


THE TEMPTRESS SPEAKS 45
ings. His mind staggered before the task, and sud-
denly the door opened again. He had a vague im-
pression that two men were entering, and that they
were carrying a burden between them. They moved
about quickly in the darkness, and now and then
they whispered in tones so low that Cole could not
hear them.
A light flashed on, and in the same instant the
door closed. After the long period of utter dark-
ness, the sudden glare had a blinding effect. Cole
blinked his eyes, but after a little he opened them
wide in astonishment, and the sight that met them
drew a long, trembling gasp from his lips.
There was only one other man in the room, a
shivering, gibbering wreck of a man whose grimac-
ing features and hollow cackle sent a series of
chill shivers through Cole's body. For a long time
he stared into the leering, slowly twitching face
before he was able to realize that the wretch,
seated a few feet from his cot, was Malcolm
Reeves.


CHAPTER IV
“YELLOW’’
HEN he first went to work on the case of
Reeves' mysterious disappearance, Cole had
been shown several photographs of the missing
man. Along the numerous twistings of the trail,
he had carried with him a mental picture of a fine
intellectual face, deep and rather somber eyes, a
long nose, whose slenderness hinted at aristocratic
breeding, a clean-cut jaw that denoted a great deal
of aggressiveness, and lips that were a trifle too
full and might have suggested sensuality, if the
broad slope of the forehead had not conveyed a
dominant impression of the student and the thinker.
The picture in Cole's mind had represented a man
about fifty years old, with a virile personality and
quiet tastes.
The contrast between his mental image of Mal-
colm Reeves and the miserable creature, now sitting
a few feet away, was so sharp that the compari-
son gave Cole a profound shock. His clothing
hung loosely over his bony frame, and he seemed
to have aged decades in the three weeks that had
elapsed since his disappearance. His shoulders were
hunched down a little, his head was bent forward,
and the eyes stared rigidly into space, as if he
were seeing something in the distance. His lips
were twisted into a fixed, vacant smile that im-
pressed Cole as the most hideous thing he had ever
Seen.


“YELLow” 47
He tried to spring from the cot, momentarily
forgetting that his arms and legs were bound. He
sank back with a mutter of exasperation. Not
much imagination was required to guess that the
men who had brought about his own plight were
also responsible for the condition of Malcolm
Reeves.
Again something drew his glance to the insane
man. The revolting picture seemed to hold Cole
with an uncanny fascination. “What's happened?”
he inquired, realizing a moment later that he might
as well have addressed a wooden image.
Reeves was still gazing fixedly at the opposite
wall. There was a look of insane glee in his
shrunken eyes. He bent forward a little more,
and then his lips began to move. “Yellow,” he
said. “Pretty yellow !”
The soft-spoken words and the giggle that fol-
lowed caused Cole to shudder. He could see that
Reeves' mind, or the pitiful remnant of it, was
reveling in some childish fancy. The wreckage of
a once splendid intellect was horrible to behold.
“What do you see?” he asked, wondering whether
the man was capable of any form of response.
The other's face brightened, but Cole thought it
was only an external glow, a reflected light rather
than one kindled from within. He recoiled in-
wardly as another stream of giggling mirth flowed
from the insane man's lips.
“Yellow,” said Reeves again. “Pretty yellow!”
His expression became more rapt. His smile
grew broader and deeper, but to Cole it seemed
nothing more than a contortion of facial muscles.


48 THE UNKNOWN SEVEN
He wondered whether the two words were all
that was left of the man's vocabulary. He felt a
desire to test him and see if there was not a re-
maining scrap of intellect that could be aroused.
“Listen, Mr. Reeves,” he said sharply. “When
did you last see Professor Carmody?”
The giggling ended in a quick intake of breath.
Reeves’ smile faded as abruptly as if an invisible
hand had blotted it out. Watching him intently,
Cole could see that his question had touched a
slumbering chord in the man's mind. Fear and
something akin to hate blazed in the shrunken eyes.
It was a startling transformation, and Cole ob-
served it in wonder. He had mentioned Carmody's
name on the spur of a vagrant impulse, wondering
whether it would awaken a recollection in the
débris of Reeves’ intellect. The effect was far
beyond his expectations.
“Carmody!” said the insane man, and each syllable
cut like a knife through the silence. “Carmody!”
He drew a shaking hand across his brow, and
Cole fancied something was stirring in the dark
corners of his mind. His face took on a strained
look, as if he was trying to exercise the shattered
remnants of his intellect. There was a flicker of
returning sanity, a feeble ray of awakening reason.
It did not last long. Reeves gave a little shudder,
there was a trembling gleam in his eye, then the
fatuous gr:... came back to his lips, and once more
he mumbled in rapt tones: “Yellow. Pretty yellow!”
Cole turned his head away with a shiver. His
experiment had shown the hopelessness of the in-
sane man's condition, but it had also suggested


“YELLOW’’ 49
several things to Cole. A recollection of a terrifying
nature seemed to be buried in the wreckage of
Reeves' mind, and evidently it had something to
do with Professor Carmody. Cole had felt certain
for a long time that the professor was responsible
for the man's disappearance, but he had not cared
to jeopardize his case by taking action before he
had sufficient evidence in his possession, as a pre-
mature move on his part might have brought
disastrous results. At that time he had not been
sure whether the missing man was dead or alive.
If still living, his safety might be endangered by
hasty action, for Carmody would not hesitate to
kill him if he thought it advisable. So Cole had
waited, patiently biding his time and slowly, but
surely, strengthening the meshes in which he hoped
to entangle the professor.
Now he wondered to what extent his course
had been correct. The maniac's startling reaction to
the mention of Carmody's name seemed to confirm
at least a part of his theory. What he could not
understand was how Reeves, granting that the
professor was responsible for his abduction, hap-
pened to be in this place of dark intrigue and
baffling mystery. Evidently there must be a con-
necting link between Professor Carmody and the
seven masked men who had sat around the circular
table. Likely as not they were accomplices, banded
together for the attainment of some secret object.
That would at least explain why the seven men
were so determined that Cole should drop the
Carmody case, though it explained nothing else.
A slight sound interrupted the speculations with


50 THE UNKNOWN SEVEN
which he had tried to relieve the tension he felt.
He turned his head a little and saw that the door
had opened a crack. A hand was inserted through
the narrow opening. For a moment it fumbled over
the wall, then came a faint click, and once more
the room was dark. Men were moving about in
the black for a time, and then all was quiet.
The silence seemed to indicate that Cole was alone
in the room, but he had an indefinable feeling that
some one was standing beside his cot. In a mo-
ment his impression was confirmed.
“Mr. Cole,” said a voice, and he recognized it
at once, “I trust that what you have just seen
has put you in a more reasonable frame of mind.
Unless you comply with our wishes we shall do
to you what we did to Malcolm Reeves.”
Cole strained spasmodically against the cords that
fettered his hands and feet. In the darkness his
imagination sketched a picture of Reeves' hideously
grinning face. For a moment he could almost hear
the maniac's insane cackle. He banished the vision
by sheer force of will.
“There's a great deal of finesse about your
methods,” he ironically observed. “I guessed, of
course, that Reeves was brought in here to serve
as an object lesson to me. It was quite impressive.”
“And you have reconsidered P’’ asked the other
hopefully.
Cole lay absolutely still on his back. It was all
he could do to exclude the disturbing pictures of
Reeves from his mind. Whenever a glimpse of it
came back to him he felt a weakness that put him
in fear of himself. “Not exactly,” he managed to


“YELLOW’’ 51
say in steady tones. “I have merely been taking
my own measure, as it were, trying to determine
whether the loss of pride and self-respect is worse
than the loss of one's sanity.”
“And what is your conclusion?”
“I am still in doubt. There are so many ways
of looking at the situation. For instance, one
thing to be considered is that lost self-respect may
be regained, while insanity is in most instances in-
curable.”
“Excellent,” murmured the other. “That's a very
rational way of looking at the proposition. Such
being the case it should not be difficult for you to
choose between the two alternatives.”
“But it is,” protested Cole. “There is still an-
other thing to be considered. Suppose I were to
accept your terms. All I could give you would
be my word of honor that I would live up to
them.”
“Quite sufficient,” the other put in. “We know
you are not the kind of man who goes back on
his word.”
“Thanks,” said Cole sarcastically. “Just the
same one's word of honor is a rather intangible
thing. You can’t bind me with a contract. It
would not be legal, no matter how ingeniously
worded, and it might incriminate yourselves. I
am not in position to give you any pledges. You
would have to be content with my bare promise.
It would be sufficient in any ordinary case, but
circumstances alter everything. I realize I am at
the mercy of a gang of unprincipled scoundrels.”


54 THE UNKNOWN SEVEN
him that was stronger than reason and logic shrank
from the mere thought of taking Reeves' life. He
wondered if there was no other alternative.
He tried to take a calm view of the situation.
Though his hands and feet were tightly bound his
persecutors evidently had not thought it necessary
to strap him to the cot, since he would soon be
under the influence of the ether. By experimenting
he found that he could turn over on his sides and,
thanks to the fact that his hands had been tied
in front instead of behind, he was able to move
his arms up and down and in a horizontal direction.
Since he could not use his hands he did not see
how he could turn this circumstance to his ad-
vantage, yet it continued to tantalize his imagination.
The door opened, and his ears told him that
several men were entering the room. For a time
they moved about in the darkness, as if making
preparations of some sort. After a little the foot-
steps receded, and then the door opened and closed
once more. Cole guessed that all but one or two
of the men had withdrawn. After another brief
delay, the lights flashed on once more, this time
illuminating a different scene.
Reeves was back in the room, occupying the same
chair in which he had sat the other time, but now
his limbs were as tightly manacled as Cole's own.
He moved his head slowly from side to side, as
if sensing something unusual in the air, but his
vacant stare showed that he had not the faintest
inkling of what was going on.
After a glance at him, Cole looked away. Not
far from the cot stood a tall man with a black


“YELLOW’’ 55
beard that covered nearly his entire face. He was
holding a number of surgical implements to the
light, giving each one a critical inspection before
he placed it on a small table with a glass top that
stood beside the cot. Cole could not restrain a
shudder as he saw how calmly the man examined
the 'sinister-looking little tools. There was a pro-
fessional air about him that in Cole's mind stamped
him as a surgeon.
Again his glance moved to the insane man,
whose dull gaze seemed to be taking in each detail
of the scene. The meaning of the little knives
and the presence of the black-bearded man was ter-
rifyingly clear.
The surgeon placed the last of the knives on
the table beside the cot. They lay there in plain
view, so close to Cole that if his hands had been
free he could have reached out and touched them.
The long, slender metal blades gleamed diabolically
in the electric lights, and he wondered if they had
been placed like that for the sole purpose of im-
pressing their hideous significance upon him.
The black-bearded man came closer to the cot,
and Cole caught a full view of his face. He had
seen it once before, though only dimly, for the
surgeon was one of the seven who had sat in the
dusk at the circular table. He had worn a mask
then, but the black beard, the high forehead and
the bald spot on top of his head were unmistakable.
Now his features were unveiled, and in this circum-
stance Cole saw a grim significance. The surgeon
no longer had any reason to fear that Cole might
recognize him if they should meet again.


56 THE UNKNOWN SEVEN
He stopped beside the glass-topped table and,
with hands clasped at his back, fixed a tranquil
gaze on the reclining man. “You have one more
chance, Mr. Cole,” he remarked in a casual tone.
“Hadn't you better reconsider your refusal?”
Cole looked up into the bearded face with a feel-
ing that there was something peculiar about it, but
his mind was too agitated to analyze the impression.
In a playful manner the surgeon picked up one of
the knives, holding it so that the light flashed against
the keen blade.
Cole was trying to frame an answer, but just
then something drew his gaze to the insane man.
Reeves was straining forward in his chair, bending
his weight against the fettering cords. From where
he sat he had a clear view of both Cole and the
surgeon, and his eyes were fixed with wild intensity
on the knife in the latter's hand. Time and again
he opened his lips, but the only sound that came
was a hoarse rattle in his throat.
“Well, Mr. Cole?”
The surgeon, paying no attention to the lunatic,
looked impatiently at Cole. Reeves, with mouth
gaping and features horribly distorted, continued to
stare at the knife.
“You refuse?” The surgeon waited a moment
longer for an answer; then, with a shrug, he re-
placed the knife and stepped aside. Cole felt a
sudden rush of blood to his head. If he was to
escape a fate worse than death he must act at once.
He spurred his wits to think of something to do.
A tinkling, like that of a jar or a bottle being moved,
sounded in the room. Again he bent his mind to


“YELLOW.” 57
the seemingly hopeless task of finding a way out,
but, even in this moment of desperate peril, he
could not take his gaze from the insane man's face.
Reeves sat with shoulders hunched up and head
turned a little to one side. Now and then his
mouth twisted at the corners; from time to time
a shudder broke the tension of his figure. A series
of slight gurgling sounds fell on the stillness at in-
tervals. All the while his eyes, with a smoldering
something in their depths, were fixed on the knives
spread out on the glass-topped table.
Suddenly Cole's body executed a little writhing
motion. His nostrils sucked in a strong, sickening
odor. With a sponge in his hand, the surgeon
was coming toward the cot.
Once more, in a delirium of suspense, Cole
glanced at the insane man. The quick dilation of
Reeves' nostrils told he also had noticed the ether.
The chair creaked as he put his weight against the
cords. There was a look on his face that Cole
felt would follow him through the night of madness
that threatened to engulf him. Reeves' chest heaved
violently, his whole body seemed to be rocked by a
tumultuous emotion, and finally a long and oddly
vibrant cry broke from his lips.


DISGUISED 59
glass-topped table beside the cot. They were so
close to him that they seemed to mock and taunt
him. Again it occurred to him that they had been
placed like that for the sole purpose of impressing
their infernal purpose upon him and battering down
his fortitude. It had been a touch of refined cruelty
on the black-bearded man's part, but it only
strengthened Cole's determination not to yield.
Suddenly, as he kept looking at the knives, the
gleam of an inspiration crept into his narrowing
eyes. He cast a swift glance about the room. The
black-bearded man was still occupied with Reeves
and stood with his back turned to the cot. Cole,
trembling with excitement, turned over on his side
and wriggled as close to the edge of the cot as he
could. He reached out his manacled hands over
the glass-topped table. The cords around the wrists
gave the fingers considerable leeway. In an instant
they had closed around the handle of the nearest
knife.
Cole tingled from head to foot. The subtle bit of
strategy by which the black-bearded man had hoped
to shatter his victim's nerve had now been turned
to Cole's advantage. It gave him a fighting chance,
though the odds were still overwhelmingly against
him. His lips curled a little, and there was a
belligerent sparkle in his eyes. Turning over on his
back he dropped the knife beside him on the pillow,
so that his head would temporarily screen it from
the surgeon's sight. Then, letting his arms fall
limply back against his abdomen, he waited for the
Surgeon to act.
Presently the black-bearded man turned away


6o THE UNKNOWN SEVEN
from Reeves and stepped up to the cot. Cole lay
motionless, with eyes half closed, as if partly dazed
by contemplation of the terrible fate that awaited
him. Inwardly he was straining and quivering with
suspense. As yet the surgeon did not seem to have
noticed that one of the knives was missing from the
table, but he might do so any moment, and then
Cole's only hope would be gone.
“Well, Mr. Cole?” he asked lightly. “For the
last time I ask you to reconsider your refusal.”
Cole lay very still. The last few minutes of
suspense seemed to have wrought a great change in
him. His lips moved as if he were trying to speak,
but was too weak to use his voice.
The surgeon grinned into his beard. Evidently
he thought the knives placed so close to his victim's
side had exerted the intended psychological effect.
“Have you anything to say?” he asked, bending
over the cot in an effort to catch Cole's faintly
mumbled words.
Cole flexed his muscles for action. The moment
for which he had waited was at hand. His chance
had come; everything depended upon how he used
it. He mumbled again, and the surgeon's head came
a little closer to his chest.
“A little louder, please,” said the black-bearded
111a11.
Slowly, by imperceptible degrees, Cole drew up
his manacled hands toward his chin. Suddenly his
arms shot upward, forming a circular loop that
instantly descended over the surgeon's head. With
a startled cry the black-bearded man tried to draw
back, but the arms that encircled his shoulders


DISGUISED 61
were as strong and hard as springs of steel. He
struggled frantically, but the encircling grip pinned
his arms tightly to his sides, and his head was
constantly being forced lower and lower toward
the reclining man's chest. The sponge had dropped
from his hand the moment Cole's arms were flung
around his neck.
An exultant thrill went through Cole as the other's
resistance grew feebler. Now the surgeon's head
was almost level with his face. The only sounds
in the room were the hard panting of the adversaries
and an occasional giggle from the insane man.
Fumes of ether were slowly filling the air.
Cole turned his head. In an instant the handle
of the knife was firmly gripped between his strong,
even teeth. He thrust out his jaw, and the point of
the weapon grazed the black-bearded man's throat.
Cole saw a look of fear creep into the man’s eyes.
The surgeon made a final attempt to wriggle free,
but Cole's arms held him as in a vise. Once more
the knife, tightly clasped between Cole's jaws,
scratched the other's flesh. He remarked again
the look of terror that was stamped on the sur-
geon's face. In view of the diabolical fate which
the man had meant to inflict on him Cole was
human enough to enjoy the other's agony.
Suddenly he bent a sharper look on the man's
face. Once before he had wondered why there
seemed to be something peculiar about it, but this
was his first chance to examine the features at
close quarters. Now he noticed that the beard
which covered most of the face had an unnatural
appearance. There were lines about the eyes that


62 THE UNKNOWN SEVEN
did not seem quite genuine, and the exposed por-
tions of the skin had an odd coloring. Obviously
the man was disguised, and Cole could see that it
had been rather cleverly done. He wondered why
the disguise had been put on, since the surgeon had
had every reason to expect that Cole would leave
the room a raving lunatic and that there would be
no danger of recognition if they should meet again.
He had not time to think further about it. The
deadlock was only temporary; any fortuitous in-
cident might upset Cole's advantage; instantly the
door might open and admit one or more of the
other members of the gang. Just now he had the
surgeon at his mercy. Only a little slash with the
knife, clamped between his teeth was needed to
open an artery, but that would not release him from
his predicament. Though he might be able to sever
the cords around his ankles he could not move his
hands with sufficient freedom to cut the strings
around his wrists. While he was casting about for
a plan a muffled groan of fright and pain broke
from the surgeon's lips. Unconsciously Cole had
once more scratched the man's throat with the
knife.
“You’re killing me!” protested the other man in
a feeble voice.
“It would serve you right,” declared Cole un-
feelingly. “I don't know why I should have any
compunction about killing a rat of your kind. We
might come to some arrangement, however. What
will you do if I spare your life?”
“Anything, anything you say.”
Cole considered. The thing of first impºrtance


DISGUISED 63
was to get his hands free of the cords. In his
present position, with his arms pinned tightly in
Cole's embrace the surgeon could not untie them,
and Cole did not see how he could give the man
any freedom of movement without imperiling his
own advantage.
“I am going to give you a chance for your life,”
he said, “but if you make the slightest false move
you die instantly. Understand that?”
“I’ll do whatever you say.”
“All right, then. Turn over.”
Cole relaxed his hold a trifle, and the surgeon
turned in his arms. The point of the knife did not
leave his flesh for an instant, and at any moment
Cole could have inflicted a mortal wound by merely
thrusting his head forward. Now, with the end
of the blade in dangerous proximity to the surgeon's
jugular vein, Cole gingerly released one of the
man's arms, then commanded him to untie the
cords around his wrists. The black-bearded man
obeyed, and Cole transferred the knife from his
mouth to his right hand. In a short time his feet
had been released, and now he flung the surgeon
aside and slipped from the cot.
Reeves had watched the proceeding with a dull
stare. Now and then a hoarse giggle of glee had
escaped him.
The surgeon got to his feet and drew a long
breath of relief. His eyes, with a glint of lingering
fear in their depths, watched Cole admiringly.
“You’re a great scrapper, Mr. Cole,” he admitted.
“You turned the tables with a truly artistic touch.
For a time I was in fear for my life. There was


64 THE UNKNOWN SEVEN
no time to explain, and you wouldn't have believed
me anyway.”
“Explain?” Cole asked contemptuously. The lit-
tle knife was still clutched tightly in his hand. “One
doesn't expect explanations from curs of your type.”
The surgeon laughed, and in the same instant
his fingers touched a button. Cole flexed his mus-
cles for another supreme test. Out of the corner
of an eye he watched the surgeon; the other eye
was fixed on the door. In a moment or two it
would probably open in response to the surgeon's
ring, and men would come tumbling upon him
from all directions. Cole smiled grimly. He would
die fighting rather than expose himself to the other
and more terrible fate from which he had just
escaped.
The door opened, and he poised himself, ready
to spring forward. The nerve-racking suspense,
which he had undergone on the cot, was forgotten
now. His eye was clear, and his brain was rapidly
throwing off the ether fumes that had escaped from
the surgeon's sponge. The hand in which he held
the knife came upward, prepared to strike down
the first man who should approach.
Some one entered through the open door, and
the arm fell limply to Cole's side. With gaping
mouth he stared at the newcomer who executed a
profound bow, while he pointed to the outer room.
“Will you kindly step this way, Mr. Cole?” he
asked in the courteous tones of a well-trained
Servant.
Cole laughed. The sudden reaction made him
feel giddy. He had expected at least half a dozen


DISGUISED 65
men to pounce on him when the door opened. By
contrast there was something ludicrous about the
salaaming figure, now confronting him.
“If you please, Mr. Cole.” The man again
waved his hand toward the outer room, and Cole
obligingly followed his direction. There seemed
to be nothing else to do than wait for the other
side to make the next move. If he was walking
into a trap, as appeared not at all unlikely, he
still had the knife to defend himself with. And
that was not all, he suddenly remembered; his
pistol was still in his hip pocket. It was rather
odd, he reflected, as he walked behind the servant,
that no attempt had been made to take it from him.
In a few moments he was back in the long
room with the circular table. The seven masked
men were again grouped around it, and the light
was as dim as before. The servant ushered him
up to the chair occupied by the spokesman, then
silently glided away. Once more Cole felt seven
pairs of eyes searching his face, but this time he
was aware of a new quality in the air.
“You may feel quite at ease, Mr. Cole,” the
spokesman began. “I can promise that no harm will
come to you.”
The calm, matter-of-fact tones incensed Cole when
he recalled by what a narrow margin he had escaped
the fate which these men had tried to inflict upon
him.
“How magnanimous!” he gibingly exclaimed.
The other chuckled. “Oh, we can understand
that you don't feel particularly friendly toward us.
Incidentally we know all that happened in the


66 THE UNKNOWN SEVEN
other room. You acquitted yourself nobly, Mr.
Cole.”
“Save your compliments. They are on a par
with your promises.”
“You would naturally feel that way after what
has happened. Mr. Cole, I am going to ask you
to forget what occurred in the other room.”
“Forget?” asked Cole incredulously, feeling as
though the episode he had just passed through
would live in his memory till his dying day.
“Well, perhaps that is asking too much,” the
other admitted. “By the way, your bitterness to-
ward us is natural enough, but don't you find some
compensation in the knowledge that you have passed
through fire unscathed? You remained true to your-
self in one of the severest tests a man can be sub-
jected to. Isn't there some satisfaction for you
in that?”
“Oh, yes, a lot,” said Cole ironically. “It’s worth
something to a man to know that nothing can bend
him. If you expect me, however, to get down on
my knees and thank you for giving me a chance
to prove myself you are mistaken.”
“We don't expect anything of the kind. I am
merely trying to point out that you have cause for
self-congratulation as well as bitterness. You prob-
ably won't be able to forget what has happened,
but I am going to ask you to dismiss it from your
mind temporarily, while I make a new proposition
to you.”
Cole felt a trifle dazed. The effrontery of the
man was unbelievable. For a moment he suspected
it was all a weird jest. “Go on,” he said dryly.


DISGUISED 67
“Your superb insolence interests me. I am curious
to see how far it will carry you.”
“You shall see in a few minutes. I will begin
by stating certain facts. Perhaps later on I shall
be able to prove them to their satisfaction, but just
now I must ask you to accept them as an hypo-
thesis.”
“Proceed,” said Cole. “I’ll try to believe that
black is white.”
“That's practically what it amounts to. The
first fact I am asking you to accept on faith, for
the present, is that we are not responsible for
Malcolm Reeves' deplorable condition. An opera-
tion was performed on his brain, but we had noth-
ing to do with it.”
He paused as if expecting an objection.
“The second fact I am asking you to accept
provisionally,” he went on when Cole showed no
inclination to speak, “is that we are just as anxious
to solve the Carmody case as you can possibly be.
We are more anxious, in fact, for we know more
about its vast scope and enormous complexities
than you do. Are you with me so far, Mr. Cole?”
Cole's shoulder made a seesawing motion. The
whole thing was preposterous, but there was a qual-
ity in the man's tone that impressed him against
his will. “You are asking me to believe that you
are sheep in wolves' clothing,” he remarked.
“That's undoubtedly how it looks to you. Won't
you try to brush your doubts aside, Mr. Cole? Re-
member that in due time I will prove everything
I say.”
Cole's indignation was cooling. There was some-


68 THE UNKNOWN SEVEN
thing about the spokesman that seemed to exert
a subtle magnetism on him. Already his dreadful
experience in the other room seemed dim and
remote, though a few minutes ago he had thought
it was indelibly etched on the scroll of his memory.
“If what you say is true, then why 3 y
“No questions, please. You would not believe
me if I were to answer them. All I can say now
is that we have excellent reasons for what we have
done. Some time before long I think you your-
self will approve them. Just now you must accept
my statements on faith. Will you try to believe that
we had nothing to do with Reeves' condition and
that we are on your side in the Carmody matter?”
“You can't deny that you tried to put me in the
same condition Reeves is in P’’
“We can, but we won't just at present. What
happened in the other room I am asking you to
dismiss from your mind in order that you may view
the facts I have placed before you in an unbiased
frame of mind. With that episode eliminated can't
you place a little temporary credence in what I
say?”
Cole tried to clarify his thoughts, but without
much success. He realized with satisfaction that
his hand was still clutching the knife. He won-
dered whether, but for his quickness of mind and
his deft handling of the little weapon, he would
not now be a raving madman. It seemed strange
that he was able to think coolly about the matter,
and stranger still that he found himself listening to
the spokesman's arguments with any degree of
seriousness.


DISGUISED 69
Finally he shook his head. “It won't quite go
down,” he declared. “You are asking me to take
too much for granted. One's brain was made to
think with, and your statements won't bear too close
reasoning. You will have to give me your proofs
before I can believe you.”
A pause followed his words; then a chorus of
whispers went around the table. The spokesman
leaned over and consulted the man seated beside
him.
“I don’t blame you,” he declared, again turning to
Cole. “After all, your skepticism is quite natural.
It is even a tribute to your intellectual powers, for
only children and feeble-minded persons accept un-
supported statements. Now, as for proofs, let me
see. Would you be convinced if you should find
the man who is responsible for Reeves' condition?”
“You know who he is?” -
“We have had our suspicions for some time,
but we were not certain until a short while ago. A
delicate operation, by which certain brain cells were
deadened, was performed on Reeves. We knew
Professor Carmody could not have performed it,
for he is not a surgeon. We began to look for
an accomplice, and finally we found a man who
seemed to fit into our theory of the case. Mr. Cole,
did you ever hear of Doctor Dickson Latham P”
“Never,” said Cole.
“Well, certain circumstances, which needn't be
mentioned just now, made us believe that Doctor
Latham was the man whom we were looking for.
The matter was really of no great importance,
only one of the minor angles of the case, but any


7o THE UNKNOWN SEVEN
little light, shed on the corners of the mystery,
might help toward solving the whole. We felt
fairly certain Doctor Latham was our man; in the
last hour we have become positive of it.”
“In the last hour!” exclaimed Cole. “How P’’
“Malcolm Reeves told us.”
“Reeves told you?”
“By his actions, while you were lying on the
cot. We had two reasons for staging that little
scene in the other room. The primary one we
won't go into at present. The other was to jog
the dead part of Reeves' brain back to life, by
having him witness the preparations for an opera-
tion that, in its essential aspects, must have re-
sembled the one performed on himself. We hoped
that the smell of the ether, the sight of the knives
and the preparations in general would awaken a
slumbering memory in his mind. The experiment
was only partly successful, but Reeves’ actions
proved beyond doubt that he recognized the officiat-
ing surgeon.”
Through the dusk Cole stared into the speaker's
calm face. “Then the surgeon 29
“You probably didn't notice it,” the other inter-
rupted, “but the man who officiated as the surgeon
was disguised. The disguise was put on by one of
our men, an expert in that line.”
“I noticed it, and it was a good job,” Cole re-
marked. “I couldn't see why it was necessary,
though.”
“The disguise was put on, not to hoodwink you,
but for its effect on Reeves.”
“I don't understand.”


DISGUISED 71
“But you will when I tell you that the disguise
gave the officiating surgeon a superficial, but fairly
convincing, resemblance to Doctor Dickson Latham.”
“Clever, I’ll say!” exclaimed Cole who could ap-
preciate ingenuity even in men who had caused him
the most agonizing moments in his life. He re-
called Reeves' intense agitation while the prepara-
tions were in progress. At the time he had not
known what it meant, but he remembered that the
surgeon had watched Reeves very closely, and this
had given Cole his chance to snatch up the knife
from the table.
“There is no doubt that Reeves thought he was
seeing the man who had performed the operation
upon him,” the spokesman went on. “One of us
was watching the scene through a small opening in
the wall, and it was quite evident that the surgeon's
resemblance to Doctor Latham gave Reeves a pro-
found shock. Our suspicions have been confirmed,
but as yet we have no legal proof. We want you,
Mr. Cole, to go out and get the evidence against
Doctor Latham.”
“Me?”
“Why not? You are a detective, a very good
one, though the fact isn't generally known. If you
find that Latham is guilty you will be more inclined
to credit our statements and think favorably of the
proposition we shall make you. You will leave here
as you came, blindfolded and under guard. Until
we understand each other better we don't want you
to learn too much about us. You will wish to sleep
late in the morning, but to-morrow afternoon you
can attack the Carmody case from a new angle,”


72 THE UNKNOWN SEVEN
“And my clients?” asked Cole.
“You will be all the better able to serve them
because of your connection with us. As soon as
you have found your evidence against Latham, or
learned enough to convince you that we are trust-
worthy, you will come here again and report. We
shall find a way of communicating with you in due
time. What do you say to the idea?”
Cole pondered. He tried to analyze the situation,
but all he could see were contradictions and per-
plexities. His only clear thought was that he had
Inothing to lose and perhaps much to gain by adopt-
ing the suggestion. His glance swept the circle of
masked faces, all of them turned expectantly in his
direction.
“The idea is good,” he finally declared. “I shall
pay my respects to Doctor Latham to-morrow after-
noon.”


CHAPTER VI
D O C T O R L. A. T H A M
HE sun was several hours high the following
morning when Kingdon Cole jumped out of
bed and, from force of habit, turned toward his
bathroom. A glance into the mirror on the white-
tiled wall made him start.
A man, even though he have nerves of steel and
a constitution hard as armor, can't pass through a
siege of intense mental torture without showing
traces of it. The nerve-racking agony, which Cole
had undergone while lying on the cot, had left
marks which seven hours of sound sleep had not re-
moved. There was a suspicion of pallor beneath the
bronze of his face. The usual brightness of his eyes
was dimmed by a smoldering flicker which hinted at
a long glimpse into infernal horrors. His face was
drawn, and there were telltale lines and furrows.
A twenty-four-hour growth of beard did not im-
prove his appearance.
“Nerves a bit on edge,” he told himself, turn-
ing away from the mirror. “Look as if I hadn't
slept a wink in a week. My landlady would tell
me I need a doctor, but a shower and a shave will
make me as chipper as a colt.”
Whistling, he stepped into the tub and turned on
the water. A few minutes of wriggling and writh-
ing under the icy shower would remove all signs
of his adventure. He thrilled to the first cold


Z4 THE UNKNOWN SEVEN
splash, and then Cole drew back from beneath the
shower. His lips twisted slowly.
“Guess I'll try a doctor instead,” he decided.
“I’m really in pretty bad shape. Nervous symp-
toms are not to be trifled with. I’ll see what Doc-
tor Dickson Latham has to say about my condi-
tion.”
Reluctantly he turned off the cold current and
resigned himself to a lukewarm bath that did not
refresh him in the least. Not too graciously, for
habit becomes an exalted thing with men who live
alone, he also decided to forgo his regular morn-
ing shave. It was best, he whimsically reflected,
that Doctor Latham should see him at his worst.
IHe dressed with less than his usual care, took in
the bottle of milk and the newspaper that were
always left at his door, and, before starting to
prepare his own simple breakfast, poured out a
saucerful of milk for “Toots.”
Toots was a white-and-yellow cat who had slipped
into his rooms one morning and made herself at
ſhome. Cole hadn't had a word to say about the
arrangement. He had been helpless before Toots'
firmness, and the cat had made herself a fixture in
his establishment. With a languid indifference and
an occasional feline shrug she permitted herself to
be waited on by Cole, who at times wondered
whether the cat was patronizing him. When Toots
selected his softest pillow to sleep on and sunned
herself on his writing desk beside the window Cole
felt that the sanctity of his bachelor existence was
being violated, but the cat's blandly tyrannizing ways
left him without a word of protest.


DOCTOR LATHAM 75
After breakfast he called up Doctor Latham's office
and made an appointment for half past two. Then
he sat down with his newspaper and pipe, the lat-
ter a smelly affair with a bowl shaped into the
resemblance of a monkey's face. It was an odd
conceit, and it had been given him in lieu of his fee
by an impecunious client. Only once had Cole had
words with his landlady, and that was when the
well-intentioned woman had undertaken to scrape
out the bowl of his favorite pipe with a potato
peeler. Cole smoked a weird mixture, compounded
by himself of several domestic brands and spiced
with a dash of perigue. The strong concoction was
a stimulant to mental effort, but at first he had
hesitated to smoke such pungent stuff in the pres-
ence of the dainty Toots. The cat had not seemed
to mind, however.
He turned the pages of his newspaper, but found
nothing that interested him. At length he threw the
paper aside and refilled his pipe. Toots was
sprawled out on the unfinished manuscript of an
article on criminal tendencies which he was pre-
paring for a psychological review. He gave the
cat a reproachful glance, but said nothing. There
were times when Toots seemed to go too far.
He looked out into the warm sunlight that bathed
Gramercy Park, but his thoughts were flitting in and
out of a maze of rooms on the top floor of a sky-
Scraper, located somewhere in the financial center.
His recollections of the previous night were a queer
medley of horror and mystery, of things that were
terribly vivid and others that were dim and discon-
nected like a dream. Now, as he sat in the sun-


76 THE UNKNOWN SEVEN
light, leisurely smoking his pipe, he tried to picture
the mystic circle in the dimly lighted room. He
could not quite focus his mental vision on the scene;
it was too shadowy and unreal. The seven masked
faces melted into a blur, then faded away com-
pletely. It was no use trying to guess who those
seven men were, or what their amazing conduct
might mean. Perhaps his interview with Doctor
Latham would suggest a solution to the mystery.
The idea of approaching the doctor in the rôle
of a patient had been something of an inspiration,
but he had made no plans beyond that. The mock
consultation would give him a chance to take the
physician's mental and physical measure and see
what manner of man he was. Cole was a good
judge of faces and a keen observer of human nature.
To him the slightest gesture and the most casually
spoken word had a meaning all their own. His
first aim was to find out whether Latham was the
kind of man who might commit such an atrocious
crime as the operation on Malcolm Reeves; after
that he would let his actions be guided by develop-
ments.
Before starting for his appointment he thought it
might be well to gather a few facts about the phy-
sician. He consulted his copy of “Who's Who.”
Dickson Latham was a specialist in nervous dis-
orders, a graduate of several universities, a mem-
ber of several learned societies, and his claim to
distinction rested on his having written a number
of treatises on cerebral surgery. The last fact
seemed significant to Cole. He closed the book,


DOCTOR LATHAM 77
gave Toots another mildly reproachful look, and
went out to lunch.
A few minutes before half past two he rang the
doorbell of the old brownstone house in the Six-
ties, just east of Fifth Avenue, in which Doctor
Latham resided and had his office. A young woman
in the reception room handed him a magazine six
months old and asked him to wait. Cole sat down
and glanced about him out of the tail of an eye,
while he pretended to look at the pictures in the
periodical. It was a commonplace room, stuffily
crowded with upholstered furniture. Two bookcases
were filled with ponderous volumes in drab bind-
ings. It was the typical reception room of a fairly
thriving physician who derives most of his patron-
age from the neurotic and dyspeptic individuals of
the upper middle class.
After a brief wait Cole was facing the physician
across a mahogany desk in the inner office.
“What seems to be the matter?” asked Doctor
Latham in a brisk, cheerful voice.
“Nerves,” said Cole, making a lugubrious face.
“No appetite. Can't sleep nights. Always tired and
out of sorts.”
“Well, well, that's too bad. You do look a bit
run down, Mr. Stone. Let me see your tongue.”
“Stone” was the name Cole had given over the
telephone. It had seemed an unnecessary precau-
tion, since Kingdon Cole was known to only a few
people. His name seldom if ever appeared in con-
nection with his work as a criminal investigator,
but Cole always practiced discretion to a fault.
While Doctor Latham looked at his tongue and


78 THE UNKNOWN SEVEN
felt his pulse Cole studied the physician closely,
without appearing to do so. His first glance gave
him a deep respect for the skill with which the
surgeon of the night before had been made up.
Doctor Latham was an inch or so taller, also a
trifle thinner, and his black beard had the vitalic
sheen that is not easily imitated; otherwise the re-
semblance was quite impressive.
“Let me test your heart,” said the doctor, reach-
ing for his stethoscope.
Cole bared his chest. He was already beginning
to suspect that he was chasing a fool's errand. Doc-
tor Latham did not seem capable of deliberate
wrongdoing, to say nothing of a fiendish crime.
In vain Cole searched his face for the faintest trace
of duplicity. The physician had the perennial opti-
mism and the bristling cheerfulness that, in cases
of nervous disorders, are far more efficacious than
pills and extracts. The very tone of his voice,
together with his hearty laugh, acted as a stimulant
on jaded nerves.
“There isn't anything the matter with you, Mr.
Stone,” he declared when the examination was fin-
ished. “I can give you a tonic if you wish, but a
couple of days' rest will do you more good.”
Cole buttoned up his shirt and replaced his col-
lar. He felt certain now that his visit to the doc-
tor's office had been in vain. Latham's kindly smile
would have disarmed any suspicions remaining in
his mind. It was a charming smile, a flash of white
teeth against a setting of black beard, and it gave
the final magnetic touch to a compelling personality.
Cole chided himself for wasting valuable time,


DOCTOR LATHAM 79
but he wished to make doubly sure before leaving
the office. He wondered what would be the effect
on the doctor if he should suddenly mention the
name of Malcolm Reeves. . None at all, very likely,
he told himself; yet he felt an itching desire to
make the test.
He took out his pocketbook and looked question-
ingly at the doctor, meanwhile wondering how he
might mention Reeves' name in a casual, and yet
sufficiently abrupt, manner to make the test con-
clusive.
“Sit down, Mr. Stone,” said Doctor Latham,
waving him to a chair. “You interest me. What
is your profession?”
“Author,” said Cole, recalling that he had two
volumes on criminology to his credit.
“Ah! And what do you write?”
“Trifling things,” said Cole modestly. “You
probably never saw any of them. Such frivolous
reading matter wouldn't interest you.”
“I read very little. The medical journals and a
glance at the newspapers are about all I find time
for. Do you know, Mr. Stone, that you puzzle
me considerably?”
“Indeed!” said Cole absently, still wondering how
he might precipitate Malcolm Reeves' name into the
conversation.
Doctor Latham smiled genially. A question kept
teasing Cole's mind. What would be the effect on
that beaming countenance if he should suddenly
speak Malcolm Reeves' name? Probably none what-
ever, he once more told himself; but the thought
continued to tantalize him.


DOCTOR LATHAM 8t
by reputation. People who have no regular physi-
cian usually go to some one recommended to them
by friends. They don't like to consult a doctor
who is an utter stranger to them. Perhaps among
my patients there is a friend of yours who men-
tioned me to you?”
“That's it exactly,” said Cole, thrilling inwardly
as he saw his chance to pitch Reeves' name into the
conversation. “Only the other day I was com-
plaining to a friend of not feeling well, and he sug-
gested I go to you. His name y?
“Ah,” asked Doctor Latham, speaking in very
soft tones. “I wonder if you are referring to Mal-
colm Reeves?”
For a moment Cole looked as if he had received
a blow between the eyes. He gathered himself in
an instant, but not before the doctor had noticed
his surprise. The physician was still smiling, but
now the smile was different. It was frosty and
pale. “I see I guessed right,” he murmured.
“Is Reeves one of your patients?” Cole managed
to ask.
The doctor leaned back in the chair, crossed his
long legs, and gazed toward the ceiling. Cole be-
came conscious of a distinct chill in the air, and
he felt irritated at himself for having stumbled into
the same trap he had set for the physician. Doctor
Latham, he was beginning to perceive, was a man
whose mental thrust was as quick and sure as his
OW11.
“Frankness is an excellent policy, Mr. Stone,”
observed the physician coldly. “We shall make
better progress if you will put all your cards on the


82 THE UNKNOWN SEVEN
table. You did not come here to consult me about
your health. May I ask why you are honoring me
with this visit?”
“You have not yet answered my own question,”
observed Cole, quickly rallying to the verbal fencing
match. “Is Reeves a patient of yours?”
The doctor lowered his gaze. His piercing eyes
searched Cole's face. A faint flash of white teeth
showed between the bearded lips.
“I believe that question has a point to it,” he
observed. “You ought to know, Mr. Stone, that
a physician never discusses his patients. It is a very
good rule, especially in the present instance. It
affords me a good excuse for not answering your
question.”
“Then you admit you found the question embar-
rassing?”
“A discreet man never admits anything, Mr.
Stone. I may point out, however, that questions
are never embarrassing, although answers some-
times are. I believe Wilde says something to that
effect in one of his plays.”
“Then you positively decline to answer?”
“In order to spare us mutual embarrassment, yes.
You see, Mr. Stone, there are circumstances in
which a truthful answer may convey an erroneous
impression. Now, won't you tell me to what I owe
the honor of this visit?”
“Is that a candid question, Doctor Latham?”
“By no means, my friend. I knew the answer
before I spoke the question. I was merely curious
to see whether you would reply truthfully.”


DOCTOR LATHAM 83
Cole smiled. It was evident that Doctor Latham
was a past master in the art of dueling with words.
The man's frankness amazed him. In admitting
that he knew the purpose of Cole's visit he had also
admitted that he knew something about Malcolm
Reeves' condition. But he had turned his phrases
so adroitly that nothing of a tangible nature could
be fastened on him.
“Will you tell me how you knew, doctor?”
“Through a process of elimination. I knew at
first glance that your concern over your physical
condition was only a subterfuge. That narrowed
the range of speculation down considerably. In
fact, it left only one possible theory in regard to
the object of your visit.”
“Why only one? Isn't it conceivable, for in-
stance, that I came here to see if your office con-
tains anything worth stealing?”
Doctor Latham shook his head. “You don't look
the part, Mr. Stone.”
“Well, suppose I am an officer of the law and
came here to see if you are prescribing illegal
amounts of intoxicating liquor or habit-forming
drugs?”
“You didn't go about it the right way.”
“Couldn't I be a long-lost friend or relative?”
“I haven't either. You came here for one spe-
cific purpose, Mr. Stone, and I know what that
purpose is.”
Cole regarded him narrowly. “Knowledge some-
times implies guilt,” he remarked in casual tones.
“But not always. You think that, because I know
the object of your visit, I have guilty knowledge


84 THE UNKNOWN SEVEN
of a certain matter that you are interested in.
That's a very loose inference, Mr. Stone.”
Cole thought for a few moments. The other's
indirect frankness amazed him, yet Doctor Latham
was entirely too slippery to permit himself to be
pinned down to hard facts.
“Each of us seems to have come to stalemate,”
observed the physician after a pause. “Shall we
call the game a draw P. Both of us have gained
something. You think you have verified a suspi-
cion, while I have learned to be on my guard against
a new source of possible danger. Why not leave
well enough alone?”
“It’s a good suggestion,” said Cole, smiling.
“Thanks for a very interesting half hour, doctor.
Good day.” He bowed and moved toward the door,
but the doctor's voice made him turn back.
“Just one moment, Mr. Stone. I think you have
forgotten something. My fee is ten dollars. Ah,
thank you!”


CHAPTER VII
COLE RECEIVES A WARNING
HP left the physician's office a poorer, but a
wiser, man. The half hour had been well
spent even though the interview had yielded little
in the way of tangible results. Cole had met an
interesting personality and come in contact with a
fine-edged mind. The doctor, with his subtleties
and his evasions, had proven a fascinating charac-
ter. His depth and elusiveness carried a teasing
appeal to Cole's imagination. Cole was not yet
through with Doctor Latham.
He walked to the corner, turned into a tobac-
conist's shop, and bought a package of cigarettes,
then stood at the curb and smoked one, while he
glanced now and then at the physician's house. The
drab brownstone façade seemed as mocking and
tantalizing as the man who dwelt within. It was
as baffling and impenetrable as the doctor himself.
Cole tried to analyze his impressions, but it was a
hard task. The physician had admitted nothing
except by implication. He had thrown out certain
bold hints, and then he had practically challenged
Cole to make the most of them.
Cole did not like to draw hasty conclusions, but,
after he had sifted down his impressions, there
remained in his mind a picture of a polished and
very artful rogue who performed his machinations
with an adroit touch and a high degree of finesse.
The picture was blurred in spots, and he had to


86 THE UNKNOWN SEVEN
use his imagination to touch up the obscure parts.
It was significant, however, that the surgeon's
make-up should have exerted such a startling effect
on Malcolm Reeves the night before. Beyond doubt
Reeves had thought that he recognized the man
who was responsible for his pitiful state. This
proved inferentially Doctor Latham was the man
who—
But Cole did not like to deal in inferences. They
were treacherous things, as he had observed on
numerous occasions. He must have more facts
before he began building up theories on the flimsy
foundation which Doctor Latham's oily innuendos
had created in his mind. Meanwhile it was inter-
esting to note that the clew which he had brought
with him from the circular table appeared to be a
substantial one. He had not convinced himself of
Doctor Latham's guilt, but he had at least found a
promising lead. Reluctantly, for his experience of
the night before still rankled, he was forced to admit
that there was a modicum of truth in what the
spokesman had told him.
He finished his cigarette and was about to turn
away, but just then a figure, rounding the opposite
corner, claimed his attention. With a little start
he recognized Professor Carmody. Bending over
a stout cane the professor walked with a jerky gait
and the plopping sound of shoes several sizes too
large. He wore a sun-bleached silk hat and, despite
the balmy autumn weather, a long overcoat cov-
ered his gaunt form. Cole nodded in a knowing way
as he saw the professor turn into Doctor Latham's
house.


88 THE UNKNOWN SEVEN
Ascending the steps of a square-cornered house
of gloomy aspect he rang the doorbell. There was
a tomblike air about the residence of Hector Engle-
breth that gave Cole a chill each time he visited the
house. Out of deference to the whims of the in-
valid who occupied it the window shades were nearly
always lowered. Doors turned without the faintest
sound on well-oiled hinges. Heavy carpets muf-
fled the footfalls of inmates and visitors. The
heavily shaded lamps threw a subdued light on mas-
sive and somberly upholstered furniture that seemed
to belong to a remote past.
A tight-lipped manservant ushered Cole into the
library. Englebreth was seated in a wheel chair
before a desk of black walnut. Despite the in-
firmity, which an acute case of inflammatory rheu-
matism had brought him, his long and triangular
face gave an impression of wiry strength. His
shoulders, as he sat hunched in the wheel chair,
seemed uncommonly broad. His face was blood-
less; his short-cropped, upstanding hair was almost
white. Except when he spoke, the long, thin lips
were tightly compressed, making him look as though
he were constantly exerting his will power to hide
the signs of his suffering.
“Any news, Mr. Cole?” he inquired in a low,
toneless voice.
“I have made some progress,” replied Cole, also
speaking in subdued tones. In that dim, somber
room it seemed natural to speak softly. “I have
reason to believe that your brother-in-law is still
alive.”
Englebreth had been tapping the desk with a pen-


COLE RECEIVES A WARNING 89
cil. Suddenly the tapping stopped. He gazed
fixedly at the detective. “How much reason?” he
asked.
“I know it to be a fact,” said Cole, weighing his
words, “that Mr. Reeves was alive last night.”
“So,” mumbled the other in tones scarcely above
a whisper. “Professor Carmody hasn't done away
with him, then. I feared that he might ” He
broke off, then raised his voice a little. “How do
you know this, Mr. Cole? How can you be so posi-
tive that my brother-in-law was alive last night?
You don't mean to say that you have seen him?”
The last sentence was spoken in tense and vibrant
tones, so unlike Englebreth's usually colorless voice.
“Before I answer that question,” said Cole, “I
want to ask you one. What makes you so positive
that Professor Carmody has had a hand in your
brother-in-law's disappearance?”
“Have you learned something that has brought
you to a contrary view?”
“Please answer my question.”
A scowl darkened Englebreth's face. He re-
sumed his slow tapping with the pencil. “We know
that my brother-in-law had frequent and secret
meetings with Carmody. We have established defi-
nitely that he had an appointment with the pro-
fessor on the night of his disappearance. One of
the servants in his house heard him make the
appointment over the telephone. You yourself
learned, from the delicatessen keeper across the
street from Carmody's place, that a man answering
Malcolm's description entered the house on that par-
ticular night. Fairly conclusive, I should say.”


90 THE UNKNOWN SEVEN
Cole eyed him levelly. “You are holding some-
thing back, Mr. Englebreth. You have not stated
your principal reason for suspecting Carmody in
connection with Mr. Reeves' disappearance.”
The tapping became a furious tattoo. “Why do
you say that, sir?”
Cole fumbled for words, then laughed. “I’ll be
hanged if I know! It's nothing but a hunch. From
the first I had a feeling that you were not telling
me all, but I admit I had no sound reason for think-
ing so.”
Englebreth, seemingly mollified, smiled. “You
detectives are suspicious of everybody. I suppose
that's a part of your stock in trade. However, I
don't mind admitting that, in this instance, you
were partly right. I have told you everything that
can be of any help to you in your search for Mal-
colm; yet there are certain trifling details that, for
private reasons and out of regard for the family,
I have not confided to you. You would not be
interested in them, and they couldn't be of any pos-
sible use to you. It was because of these private
and delicate matters that I took the case to you
instead of the police. Now will you answer my
question? Have you seen Malcolm ?”
“I have, Mr. Englebreth. I saw him last night.”
“Where?” The invalid strained forward in his
chair. “In Professor Carmody's house?”
“No; I have not yet seen the inside of the pro-
fessor’s residence.”
“Then where did you see him?” The tapping
had ceased again, and Englebreth was waiting
breathlessly for the answer.


COLE RECEIVES A WARNING 9I
“That's the queer part of it.” Cole gave a little
baffled laugh. “I have seen your brother-in-law, but
I can't tell you where.”
“You can’t P”
“Because I don't know.”
A threatening look crossed Englebreth's face.
“This is no occasion for jests, Mr. Cole. Even if
you have no feelings of your own in the matter, you
... ought to respect the sentiments of other people. My
wife is deeply shocked over the uncertainty regard-
ing her brother's fate.”
“Pardon me, Mr. Englebreth. I laughed, but it
was only out of sheer bewilderment. I had an expe-
rience last night that was so unbelievable that I
shan’t try to describe it. I feel dazed whenever I
look back upon it. All I can tell you is that I saw
Mr. Reeves alive.”
“And well?” questioned Englebreth sharply.
“He seemed to have been through a trying expe-
rience.”
“You are quibbling. I want the truth.”
“Perhaps I shall be able to give it to you some
time within the next twenty-four hours. For the
present I fear you will have to be satisfied with
what I have told you. My impressions of what I
saw and heard last night are not very clear. You
will understand the reason when I give you a full
report.”
“This is strange talk, Mr. Cole.”
“Not half so strange as some of the things that
happened to me last night.”
Englebreth sat erect in his chair, regarding the
detective with a piercing gaze. Evidently he was


92 THE UNKNOWN SEVEN
far from satisfied, and Cole could not blame him.
Silence fell between them; then a soft tinkling was
heard. Even the telephone seemed to utter its sum-
mons in whispers in that house of subdued sounds.
The invalid wheeled his chair a little closer to
the desk and put the receiver to his ear. A conver-
sation ensued, and gradually Englebreth's face
underwent a transformation. Cole could not inter-
pret the new look that came into his countenance,
but he watched it in wonder. In a few minutes the
invalid hung up, and the puzzling expression left
his face as suddenly as it had come. He was smil-
ing when he turned to Cole.
“On the whole I find your report quite satisfac-
tory,” he said in conciliating tones. “I appreciate
the difficulties you have to deal with. Don't mind
me if I seem impatient. May I expect to hear from
you soon again?”
“To-morrow, I hope.” Cole was still marveling
at the change he had witnessed in his client. He
wondered whether the telephone conversation had
brought it about. From Englebreth's part in it he
had been unable to make out its nature, but he
imagined that his client had received news of a star-
tling kind. After an exchange of a few casual
remarks he got up and moved toward the door.
“Just one thing more, Mr. Cole,” said Englebreth
as he placed his hand on the knob. “Please be
careful.”
“What?” Cole turned and looked back at the
invalid. The tone, rather than the words, had given
him an odd sensation. Englebreth's white face was


COLE RECEIVES A WARNINC 93
wreathed in smiles, but Cole sensed a hidden barb
somewhere.
“Just be careful,” said the invalid. “That's all,
Mr. Cole.”
Cole went out, but echoes of Englebreth's voice
pursued him through the door and out on the street.
The words had sounded as though they contained
a veiled threat of some kind. What could he have
meant? He turned the question over in his mind,
time and again. Was it possible that Englebreth,
in some strange and devious way, had learned of
the attempt that had been made to persuade Cole
to betray his client?
The theory seemed grossly improbable, but, as
he walked along, he could think of no other solu-
tion. The more he thought of it the more likely
it seemed that his client had, in some mysterious
manner, got an inkling of last night's happenings.
He remembered the agitation he had shown at the
telephone. And later, when he gave Cole that
peculiar warning, his voice had sounded as though
he meant to convey a threat of terrible punishment
if the detective should go back on his duty.
Cole had not walked far when his step began
to lag. He paused at a corner and glanced at his
watch. He pursed his lips, then he scowled a little,
and a look of weighty responsibility came into his
face. -
It was time to go home and feed Toots.


CHAPTER VIII
THE UNRNOWN SEVEN
A* evening Cole had felt a presentiment that
his telephone was to ring. When it finally
did ring, shortly after eleven o'clock, he knew, even
before he lifted the receiver from the hook, that he
was about to receive a message from the mysterious
Seven.
His “hello” was answered by the rich soprano
voice of the woman who called herself Miss Brown,
but somehow it sounded different. The frolicsome
undertone, which he had noticed the previous eve-
ning, was gone. In place of it there was a faint
tremor that hinted of keen anxiety.
“I am calling from a public booth near Madison
Square,” she told him. “At exactly twelve o'clock
I shall be waiting in my car, on the southeast cor-
ner of Broadway and Twenty-third Street.”
“I’ll be there,” said Cole firmly. During the
late afternoon and evening he had made up his mind
that, if a summons should come from the myste-
rious seven, he would obey it.
“But be careful,” she went on, and the last word
had an oddly familiar sound in Cole's ears. “An
attempt will be made to follow you.”
“I know,” said Cole lightly. “I’ve been watched
ever since I went out to dinner this evening. I be-
lieve somebody is looking up at my windows this
very moment. Have no fear. I’ll shake him off.”
Again requesting him to be careful, Miss Brown
rang off. For a moment, after the connection had


THE UNKNOWN SEVEN 95
been severed, he stood smiling into the transmitter.
Then he stepped to the window and looked out into
Gramercy Park. The sky was partly overcast, and
a haze of moonlight and shadows hovered over the
trees. Almost directly below his window stood a
gaunt individual whose eyes were slanting up at
him beneath the brim of a dark felt hat.
Cole examined his pistol before he put it in his
pocket, donned hat and light overcoat, and went
out. On the stoop he paused for a moment and
stuck a cigarette between his lips. Then he swung
down the steps and sauntered up to the watcher at
the curb.
“Pardon,” he said urbanely. “Could I trouble
you for a match?”
The watcher searched his vest pocket and handed
him one. Cole caught a full view of the fellow's
face as he kindled his cigarette. The man was a
stranger to him. Murmuring profuse thanks for
the accommodation Cole walked away. Twenty
minutes later, after a devious journey by foot, sub-
way, and surface cars, he plunged into the traffic jam
in the theatrical district. For a little while he darted
in and out among surging streams of humanity.
Then, certain that he had thrown the pursuer off his
tracks, he boarded a southbound car. A tower clock
was signaling the midnight hour just as he reached
the appointed corner in Madison Square.
“You are very prompt,” observed Miss Brown,
as he stepped into the limousine in which his adven-
ture had begun, exactly twenty-four hours ago.
“You are sure you haven’t been followed P”
“Only a short distance.” Cole sat down beside


96 THE UNKNOWN SEVEN
her, having a weird feeling that ages had passed
since he last touched those cushions. “I shook off
the fellow quite easily.”
The car was gliding swiftly toward the south,
but soon it began to turn and twist in all directions.
The windows were shaded, and Cole could only
guess which way they were going.
“You’re an audacious person,” murmured the girl.
“After what happened last night I wasn't sure you
would come with me a second time.”
Cole smiled. “Audacious isn't quite the word.”
“No, I suppose not. You're not the kind of man
who indulges in foolish bravado. Your decision to
come with me to-night was the result of long and
careful thinking, after you left Doctor Latham's
office. Your interview with the doctor convinced
you that our acquaintance might be worth cultivat-
ing, despite the rough treatment you were given
last night. Am I right?”
“In the main. You know, then, that I called on
Doctor Latham P”
“Of course. You have been under constant sur-
veillance since you left our establishment early this
morning.”
“How flattering ! But you puzzle me, Miss
Brown. I have been conscious of being watched
only since dinner time.”
She gave an amused laugh. “One is never con-
scious of our brand of espionage. We have men
on our staff who have reduced shadowing to a fine
art. They are not so easily shaken off as was the
simpleton who stood outside your windows this
evening. By the way, Mr. Cole, aren't you harbor-


98 THE UNKNOWN SEVEN
dusk. He scanned the veiled faces closely as his
eyes responded to the dim light. The black beard
was not there; yet he counted seven faces. Evi-
dently the surgeon was not wearing his disguise
to-night.
“Very glad to see you, Mr. Cole,” said a voice
which he recognized. “The fact that you have re-
turned is additional proof that we were not mistaken
in you. Sit down.”
Cole seated himself at the spokesman's side. His
ears were keyed to catch any suspicious sound, while
his eyes cautiously explored the dusk about him.
His right hand hung loosely over the side of the
chair, but it was ready to reach for his pistol at
the slightest sign of danger. He was far from
certain in regard to the intentions of the seven
men, and he was determined not to be caught off
his guard.
“Perhaps it will give you some satisfaction to
know,” the spokesman went on, “that you sent one
of our men to the hospital last night.”
Cole smiled faintly as he recalled the fight in the
dark. His knuckles still showed bruises from the
blows he had showered on his opponent before he
was overwhelmed by superior numbers.
“He is a big, husky chap, and he knows how
to put a lot of steam into his punch,” the spokes-
man continued. “You pounded his face to a jelly.
I don't think Sam will ever get over the humilia-
tion. His mortification ought to soften the bitter-
ness you naturally feel toward us. By the way,
you called on Doctor Latham, as I suggested. Did
the interview prove satisfactory?” -


IOO THE UNKNOWN SEVEN
“The cause of this deplorable situation is obvi-
ous. The big rascal evades the law and goes scot-
free, while the little fellow breaks the law and lands
in jail. Or else the big rascal violates the law in
such a clever manner that conviction is impossible.
He has the best legal talent on his side. Brilliant
and unscrupulous lawyers lie awake nights schem-
ing how a powerful client might commit crimes with
impunity. Often the big rogue has unlimited re-
sources at his command. If he is in danger of
getting caught a substantial bribe frequently lets
him out, or he uses political or social influence to
get clear of the danger. True, isn't it?”
“Unfortunately it is,” said Cole, “but I don't
see what all this 22
“Just a moment. I am getting to the point as
fast as I can. You must have noticed that the
police and other agencies are seriously handicapped
in trying to cope with crime on a large scale. They
are hampered by a number of things, inefficiency,
corruption, political patronage, sometimes indiffer-
ence on the part of the public. There are many
honest and capable men among them, but their num-
ber is too small. Besides, the machinery of justice
is too ponderous and cumbersome In its compe-
tition with crime it has the same handicap as a
truck trying to compete with a roadster. But that
isn’t the worst of it.”
“You’re painting a gloomy picture,” Cole ob-
served.
“But you know as well as I do that it is true to
life. The most serious phase of the situation is
the fact that the law, in effect if not in theory, is


THE UNKNOWN SEVEN IOI.
punitive rather than preventive. Our administra-
tors of justice are too often content with locking
the stable after the horse is gone. It may be a
satisfaction to you, when your pocketbook is stolen
and the money squandered, to see the thief go to
jail, but it isn't doing you any material good. It
may be gratifying to you to know that that par-
ticular thief won't steal any more pocketbooks for
a while, but that isn't going to compensate you for
your loss. The time to stop the crook is before the
damage is done, and that's exactly where our police
system falls down on the job.”
“True enough,” Cole admitted. “But what are
you going to do about it?”
He fancied the spokesman was smiling, but he
could not be sure. The others at the table had not
spoken a word.
“There is the Carmody case, for instance,” the
other went on, without answering Cole's question
directly. “It shouldn't be called that, for the pro-
fessor is only a puppet, a dwarf in comparison with
the men who are pulling the strings. You have
barely scratched the surface of the case, so, no
doubt, you are amazed at what I say. The so-called
Carmody case is in reality one of the biggest swin-
dles ever projected. It is being engineered by a
group of brilliant and very powerful men who have
enormous resources in brains and cash at the tips
of their fingers. They are working in the dark,
with the utmost secrecy and astounding cleverness.
If the authorities at Washington knew what was
going on, there would be a panic all along Penn-
sylvania Avenue.”


IO2 THE UNKNOWN SEVEN
“Why doesn't some one tell them?”
The spokesman chuckled deprecatingly. “If I
should go to them with the story to-morrow they
would demand proof, and I haven't any. That is,
nothing that is tangible. I am positive of my facts,
but proving them is another matter. In a case like
this the proof can’t be produced until the damage
is already done. Having no evidence, I should prob-
ably be met with indifference or skepticism. Even
if an investigation were made, it would be purely
perfunctory. The investigators would kick up just
enough dust to blind themselves and tip the con-
spirators off to their danger.”
“But, if things are as bad as you say, something
should be done.”
“Something is being done, Mr. Cole, and that
brings me to the hypothetical case I was about to
state. Imagine a group of wealthy and public-
spirited citizens, men of brains, aggressiveness, and
imagination, who have banded themselves together
for the purpose of correcting the condition I have
just described. Let us say they have built up a
small, compact and marvelously efficient organiza-
tion, in comparison with which the government's
ponderous machinery is like the truck trying to out-
distance the roadster. This organization, unham-
pered by graft, political patronage, and red tape,
and having unlimited resources at its command,
becomes the secret ally of the police, the depart-
ment of justice, and similar agencies. Its existence
is practically unknown to all but its own members.
Like the criminal whom it is endeavoring to com-
bat, it works in the dark and silently. This in itself


THE UNKNOWN SEVEN IO3
gives it a tremendous advantage. You are begin-
ning to understand?”
Cole nodded.
“This organization has a corps of brilliant opera-
tives, each one tested and tried and found one hun-
dred per cent honest and efficient. At its head is
an executive of exceptional ability. All the re-
sources of the organization are placed at his dis-
posal. He is paid a salary so large that it should
render him immune to all sorts of corruption and
amply compensate him for the fact that his achieve-
ments never become known to the outside world.
“For a time all goes well. Now and then the
police, or the authorities at Washington, receive a
package from an anonymous source. They open it
and dazedly peruse the contents. It is evidence
gathered by some of the shrewdest detectives in the
country and put into shape by the best lawyers
obtainable. It is so thoroughly prepared that it will
stand every legal test. All the authorities have to
do is to hale the culprit into court and read the
evidence to the jury. In all cases but one the ver-
dict has been guilty.”
“The exception,” the spokesman went on in gritty
tones, “was due to the dereliction of the executive
at the head of the corps. Contrary to expectations
and despite all the incentives which he had for
remaining loyal to the organization, the man was
corrupted by the other side. No doubt he sold his
honor for a fortune. At all events he disappeared,
and the case collapsed. It was necessary to find
Some one to take his place. This time the men at
the head of the organization were determined to


IO4 THE UNKNOWN SEVEN
make no mistake. The next executive must be not
only efficient and fearless, but incorruptible as well.
For once the leaders decided to let the ends justify
the means and go the limit in testing their candidate.
Well, they did go the limit. They tried him in acid,
and he assayed twenty-four carats.”
Murmurs of approval went around the circle.
Every face was leveled intently in Cole's direction.
For several minutes he had anticipated the trend
of the spokesman's remarks, yet he started a little
at the last sentence.
“Now you understand,” the other continued. “For
some time we have been satisfied in regard to your
ability. Our secret investigation left us in no doubt
on that point. Last night we learned that you
could resist three of the most powerful forms of
temptation imaginable—fear, greed, and a charm-
ing woman's tears. And not only that, but you
also proved your superiority in a physical encoun-
ter, in addition to showing presence of mind and
quickness of wit in a most terrifying situation. You
scored one hundred per cent on every point. I
am Only sorry the test had to be so severe.”
Cole sat silent for a time; then he shook the
spokesman's outreached hand. “It’s worth a lot
to me to know that I am a twenty-four-carat man,”
The declared.
“Then you accept?”
Cole pondered while his glance swept the masked
faces.
“Who are you?” he asked. *-
“We call ourselves The Unknown Seven. The
name fits because nobody, not even our best friends,


THE UNKNOWN SEVEN IO5
know us in our capacity of secret allies of the
authorities. It's possible you have seen some of us
before.”
He raised his arm, and each man at the table
made a sudden motion with his hand. In an instant
the seven masks had been removed. Then a glar-
ing light shattered the dusk, and Cole looked in
astonishment at the unveiled faces. Several of them
were familiar to him from pictures that had ap-
peared in the newspapers, in connection with
weighty national or municipal affairs. He blinked
his eyes in bewilderment and was about to say some-
thing when the door suddenly opened.
Miss Brown entered in great haste. She was
pale and breathless, and Cole could see that some-
thing of a startling nature had happened. The
seven men rose and bowed as she came up to the
table.
“What is it?” asked the spokesman.
For a moment the girl's eyes rested on Cole’s
face. There was a mingling of questioning, sus-
picion, and reproach in them that bewildered him.
Then she turned to the spokesman. “The red light
is flashing on the indicator!” she breathlessly de-
clared. “Some one is coming up the elevator!”
For a moment each man in the room stood rigidly
still. Then came a shuffling of feet and scraping
of chairs. Now and then an ominous mutter was
heard. Then, with one accord, all glances turned
threateningly in the direction where Cole stood.


CHAPTER IX
T H E R E D L I G H T
OR a time no one in the room moved. Cole
was both amused and puzzled by the hostile
glances leveled in his direction. The attitude of The
Unknown Seven had changed from friendliness to
suspicion, with an abruptness that was almost ludi-
crous. Miss Brown's reference to a red light
seemed to have turned them against him in a twin-
kling.
He could not understand. He looked at the
spokesman as if expecting an explanation. Now,
with the lights on and the mask removed, Cole
thought there was something familiar about his face.
It was hewn on rather rough lines, suggestive of a
man of great strength and determination. The
iron-gray hair curled a little. The mouth was firm
and gave a trace of harshness to the face. The
eyes, arched by upslanting brows, were clear and
cold.
Just now those eyes were gazing fixedly at Cole.
There was the faintest suspicion of a threat in them,
he thought. He pondered for a moment, arranged
a few scattered recollections, and then the man's
name came to him. He was Grover Carlin, a crimi-
nal lawyer of high standing and great ability. Cole
had once heard him make a masterly address to a
jury.
Only a few moments had passed since Miss
Brown had made her breathless announcement.


THE RED LIGHT Io?
Now one of the seven men sprang toward the door,
and the others followed. Cole and Carlin, walking
side by side, brought up the rear. The foremost of
the procession opened a door across the hall, and the
others tumbled in after him. It was a large room,
filled with desks and filing cases, but the first thing
that caught Cole's eye was a globe of glass in which
a red light was flashing at intervals of a few sec-
onds.
“What does it mean?” he asked Carlin.
The lawyer gave him a sharp glance. “It means
that a stranger is coming up the elevator,” he an-
nounced shortly.
“Why a stranger? Couldn't it be one of your
own men?”
“No. When our own men enter the private
elevator they always throw a lever which prevents
the light from flashing. The red light is a danger
signal. The elevator is an automatic one, and it is
impossible for a stranger to operate it unless he is
acquainted with the mechanism. Our visitor must
have got the hang of it, somehow. Mr. Cole, you
are the only outsider who has been inside this es-
tablishment in weeks.”
“Am I to infer that I am under suspicion?”
“Well, it looks rather queer.”
Smiling, Cole watched the flickering red in the
glass globe. “But you admitted yourself that I am
a twenty-four-carat man.”
The other nodded. “Yes, I know, but 29
“Perhaps you suspect I arranged to have myself
followed here this evening?”
“Such a thing is conceivable.”


IO3 THE UNKNOWN SEVEN
“But the rest isn't very practicable. I never saw
the elevator, much less learned how to operate it.
I was blindfolded both times I came up in it.”
“True, but you are a very clever man, Mr.
Cole. Your performance of last night proved that.
And the fact remains that you are the only stranger
who has been inside this establishment in a long
time.”
The red flashes has ceased. Cole looked about
him. Several of the men were glowering at him,
while Miss Brown regarded him with a look of
doubt and vague disappointment.
“What about the former executive you mentioned,
the man who betrayed you?” he asked. “Isn't it
possible that he is up to deviltry of some kind?”
Carlin shook his head. “The mechanism has been
changed since he left us. Besides, he would know
enough to turn the lever to prevent the light from
flashing. It will be interesting to see whether our
visitor knows how to operate the sliding panel in
the wall. If he does, you will presently see a green
light in the indicator.
It was evident that the lawyer was trying to be
fair and withhold judgment, but Cole could see
he was an object of grave doubt. The others in the
room were intently watching the indicator, but now
and then they glanced darkly at Cole. Several of
them seemed loath to suspect him, and among them
was Miss Brown; but apparently they could think
of no other explanation for the mysterious in-
trusion than that he had played false with them.
Ilike the others he fell to watching the glass
globe. The ceasing of the red flashes seemed to


THE RED LIGHT Io9
indicate that the intruder had reached the top floor.
Perhaps at this very moment he was searching
for the hidden spring that controlled the panel in
the wall. Cole felt a tingling suspense as he waited
to see whether a green light would appear in the
indicator.
“What can the fellow hope to gain by coming
here?” he asked Carlin.
The lawyer gave him a searching glance, as if
not quite sure that the question had been asked
sincerely. “A lot,” he said dryly. “There are
papers in our files, evidence in the form of memo-
randa and legal documents, that certain parties
would be willing to pay a great price for.”
“But doesn't he realize that you won’t give them
up without a fight?”
“Usually only the watchmen are here as late as
this.” The lawyer gave Cole another dubious glance
out of his cold eyes. “To-night and last night we
have been holding special sessions on your account.
Probably our unbidden visitor doesn't know that.
If he is hoping that he will have only a couple of
watchmen to deal with, there will be a surprise
waiting for him as soon as he gets through the
wall, if he does get through.”
Evidently the intruder was having difficulties.
For several minutes the indicator had been blank,
but the glances of those in the room were drawn
to it as to a magnet.
Cole's eyes traveled over the oddly assorted com-
pany. A few feet in front of him stood a retired
financier, a multimillionaire, who had once been
a power in Wall Street, and whose money was being


IIO THE UNKNOWN SEVEN
used unsparingly to fight corruption and vice. A
little to one side was a philanthropist whose annual
benefactions mounted into eight figures. Three
or four of them were strangers to him, and among
these was the surgeon, whose tall figure Cole easily
recognized despite the fact that he had worn a
disguise on the other occasions.
His mind was active while he studied the faces
about him. Would the green light flash on the
indicator? Who was the intruder, and was Carlin
right in the surmise that the documents in the
filing cases were the object of the mysterious visit?
For a thief to sneak into an establishment of this
kind looked like a piece of foolhardy daring to
Cole. There were nine of them in the room, includ-
ing Miss Brown and himself, and no doubt agents
and operatives of The Unknown Seven were within
calling distance. There was a lively tussle ahead of
the prowler, if he should succeed in getting through
the wall.
Ten minutes had passed since the red flashes
stopped. Cole was beginning to think that the
intruder had met insuperable obstacles. Perhaps
he had in some manner learned how to operate
the elevator, but had failed to familiarize himself
with the mechanism that controlled the sliding panel
in the wall. All the while, as these speculations
ran through Cole's mind, he felt that Carlin was
watching him out of the tail of an eye.
“Aren't you a bit hasty in turning to me with
your suspicions?” he asked good-naturedly. “I may
be a twenty-four-carat man, but I am not a worker
of miracles, and I’d have to be one in order to


THE RED LIGHT III
ferret out your secrets on such short acquaintance.
What about your hired agents?”
“I trust them as I trust myself. They have been
tested and found true.”
Cole smiled engagingly. “Your experience with
the renegade executive, whom you told me about,
should have warned you that tests aren't always
conclusive. Human nature is about as uncertain as
April weather.”
Carlin gave an assenting nod, but the argument
did not seem to influence him greatly.
“How will you dispose of the rascal if he gets
through?” was Cole's next question.
“That's a problem. Our success so far has been
due largely to the secrecy with which he have sur-
rounded ourselves. We have nothing to fear, and
no great harm would be done if we should be found
out, but we prefer to continue to work in the
dark. So far our absconding executive seems to
have kept his mouth closed, for nothing has leaked
out about us. No doubt he is so busy spending
his thirty pieces of silver that he has no time for
gabbling. Besides, the scoundrel has a wholesome
respect for us. He knows that The Unknown
Seven has a long arm and a sturdy fist. If this
fellow,” with another glance at the indicator, “should
get through the wall, we shall have to take meas-
ures to protect our privacy. If we find that he has
the right stuff in him we may even invite him to
join us.”
Another five minutes passed. Some in the group
showed signs of restiveness. One of them sug-


II2 THE UNKNOWN SEVEN
gested going out and collaring the prowler, but
Carlin vetoed the idea, declaring it would be better
to give the fellow a chance to show his hand.
The group resumed its silent waiting. A ques-
tion occurred to Cole, one that he had been on
the point of asking when Miss Brown's entrance
interrupted the conversation in the other room.
“How is Mr. Reeves?” he inquired.
Carlin waited for several moments before he
answered. “There has been no change in his con-
dition in the past twenty-four hours,” he finally an-
nounced.
“He is still here?”
The lawyer nodded. He did not seem very com,
municative on that subject.
“You know, of course,” Cole went on, “that
it isn't in strict accordance with the law for you
to keep him here?”
A thin smile twisted Carlin's lips, but his only
response was a shrug.
“My duty to my clients gives me an interest in
the matter,” Cole pointed out. “You are keeping
Mr. Reeves a prisoner.”
“By no means. Mr. Reeves is our guest, and
so far he has not voiced any objections.” He
gave a grim chuckle. “Furthermore he is in-
finitely better off here than where we found him.
He would probably have been dead by this time if
we hadn't taken him away.”
“From where?”
The lawyer's wintry gaze rested for an instant
on his face. “From the residence of Professor


THE RED LIGHT II3
Carmody, as you probably either know or can
readily guess.”
“You kidnaped him?”
“Call it that if you like. We saved Mr. Reeves
from certain death. Professor Carmody is the
only one who has cause for feeling aggrieved at
what we have done.”
Cole nodded thoughtfully. He had kept Carmody
under observation for some time, and of late he had
noticed a change in him. He understood now why
the professor had seemed excited and ill at ease
the last few days. His comings and goings had
been more frequent and there had been several signs
of something unusual on foot about the house on
Bleecker Street.
“So that you may feel quite reassured in the
matter,” Carlin went on, “let me tell you that Mr.
Reeves is under excellent care. A specialist is
studying his condition, and there's a chance, though
a very remote one, that he may recover his mental
faculties, wholly or in part. If he does, I fancy he
will have a very entertaining story to tell.”
He looked sharply at Cole just then, as if trying
to measure the effect of his words, but Cole's
face showed nothing but deep thought. He had
obtained a glimpse into the working methods of
The Unknown Seven, and he had found fresh proof
of the efficiency and the resources of the organiza-
tion. A splitter of hairs might not have found its
methods strictly legal, but there was such a thing
as the end justifying the means. Quite likely Carlin
was right in saying that Reeves had been rescued
from certain death at the hands of Professor


II4 THE UNKNOWN SEVEN
Carmody. Probably, too, a great deal more could
be accomplished by this informal course of pro-
cedure than by strict adherence to the letter of the
law. Cole was so deeply impressed that for the
moment he forgot that he was under suspicion.
“If Reeves ever tells his story, I'd like to be
there,” he declared.
“You may have an opportunity to do so,” dryly
remarked the lawyer. “Until we have satisfied our-
selves on one or two little points we shall have
to ask you to remain here as our guest. In the
meantime yy
A medley of mutters and hushed exclamations
interrupted him. Instinctively Cole glanced at the
indicator. A tongue of green flame was shooting
up and down in the glass globe. Fascinated, he
watched the darting flashes.
“Get back!” ordered Carlin, waving a hand at
the men who stood huddled into a knot before the
indicator. In his other hand gleamed the barrel
of a pistol. Cole admired the ease and coolness
with which he was taking charge of the situation.
Following the direction of his pointing finger, the
men crowded into a corner of the room. Miss
Brown followed them, and, as she crossed the floor,
she gave Cole a glance that stabbed within him.
Carlin touched a button; the room went dark.
Keeping Cole close at his side he took up a posi-
tion a few feet in front of the others. “I must
warn you not to move,” he whispered in Cole's ear.
“Have no fear,” Cole whispered back. “I’m as
anxious to see this through as you can possibly be.”
The lawyer's strategy was simple. If the in-
Y


THE RED LIGHT II5.
truder's aim was to get hold of some or the docu-
ments in the filing cases he would probably come
straight to this room. The fact that he had mas-
tered the mechanism of the elevator and the hidden
door seemed to indicate that he was fairly well
familiar with the lay of the establishment. Evi-
dently the lawyer's plan was to catch him red-
handed and take him by surprise.
Cole was conscious of a growing disquietude as
he stood beside the lawyer, looking in the direc-
tion of the door through which the intruder must
pass. He had a hazy feeling that Carlin's plan was
too simple, but he could not tell exactly what was
wrong with it. Not a sound was heard in the
room. The door had been left open a crack, and
a narrow wedge of light filtered in, but most of
the room was an impenetrable blur.
A minute passed. In vain Cole strained his ears
to catch the sound of approaching footsteps. His
uneasiness grew, but he could not understand why.
As if his misgivings had been communicated to the
lawyer, the latter mumbled something under his
breath. The moments flew, and still no sound was
heard in the corridor. Either the intruder's foot-
falls were thoroughly muffled, or else
Cole did not finish the thought. A vagrant sus-
picion held his senses spellbound. For a moment
longer he listened for footfalls that did not come,
and then his vague apprehensions crystallized in a
flash. He gripped the lawyer's arm so violently that
Carlin gasped.
“You were wrong!” he whispered hoarsely. “The


II6 THE UNKNOWN SEVEN
fellow isn't after any papers. He came here to get
Reeves.”
Cole, with his hand tightly gripping Carlin's arm,
felt a sudden shock shooting through the man at his
side. In a twinkling the lawyer seemed to have
grasped his meaning. Now, muttering something,
he sprang forward. In an instant the lights were
on again, and Carlin was running toward the door.
Cole followed, but in a moment the two men came
to a dead stop.
A short, piercing cry sounded. It died abruptly,
leaving a curious emptiness in the air. The two
men stared at each other, and Cole saw a gray film
creep over the lawyer's face.
“Too late!” he exclaimed.


CHAPTER X
PURSUIT
HE scream had ended with a certain grim
abruptness that to the listeners could mean
only one thing. It had seemed to stop in the mid-
dle; yet it had been punctuated with an ominous
finality. It was as if death itself had stepped in
and placed an exclamation point after an unfinished
cry.
Then came utter silence. It seemed as though
every sound and every breath of life had
been sucked out of the air. Carlin, his lips drawn
apart at one side, looked fixedly at the door. His
head, shoulders and chest were straining forward;
he appeared to be maintaining his balance by sheer
mental tension. A few moments passed, and then
Cole shook himself free of the insidious horror
that attacks even the strongest. Less than thirty
seconds had elapsed since the cry sounded.
“Where is he?” he asked, shaking the lawyer's
arin.
“He?” Carlin seemed to be trying to shake off
a spell. “Oh, Reeves, you mean. Back there.”
He pointed indefinitely toward the corridor.
“Brace up, man!” Cole shouted. “Go to him.
Maybe something can be done. Hurry!”
He bounded to the door and out in the hall. His
words had voiced a hope that he did not feel. The
cry had told him only too eloquently that Reeves
was beyond help. But there might still be time to


II8 THE UNKNOWN SEVEN
catch the murderer, if he made haste. Heedless
of Carlin's belated shout to him to stop, he hurried
down the long and dimly-lighted corridor. Con-
fused cries and scurrying footfalls sounded behind
him, signifying that the others had come out of
their temporary stupor.
Cole shut his ears to the bedlam. All he saw
and heard was a shadow darting toward the end
of the hall and a patter of swift feet. At the
farther end of the corridor, at the point where
Miss Brown and himself had entered the head-
quarters of The Unknown Seven, was an opening.
He came up to it just in time to see the fleeing
shadow slip through.
“Stop, or I'll wing you!” he cried, jerking his
pistol out of his hip pocket, but the fugitive paid
no heed. Crouching low, he ran with zigzagging
motions across the open space toward the elevator
shaft. Cole aimed low and pulled the trigger. The
bullet thudded against the flagged flooring, and
through the smoke he saw the fugitive spring into
the cage. Already the door was clanking shut. He
plunged forward and kicked his foot into the open-
ing, just in time to stop the sliding door from
closing. He caught a glimpse of a stiff felt hat,
a sallow face with a mocking grin, a lean and slightly
hunchbacked figure, and then the cage shot down-
ward.
Cole, standing with his right foot caught between
the door and the steel jamb, muttered a malediction,
but it was aimed mostly at himself. The little
hunchback had eluded him with an agility that
aroused his admiration, even while it made him


PURSUIT II9
grit his teeth. He flung the door wide open. Only
a few moments had passed since the cage started
downward, and it had not got far. There was
something tantalizing about the swiftness with which
it increased the distance between himself and the
fleeing man.
For a moment Cole gauged his chances. He
gazed at two sets of cables that glided up and
down inside the shaft. His next move would have
seemed foolhardy to an onlooker, but Cole had
carefully measured the risk. It was one of those
tense moments in which the mind leaps quickly to
decisions. The time it took him to determine what
to do was only a matter of seconds.
He flexed his muscles and then he leaped. For an
instant his form hurtled through space, then his hands
closed tightly around the downward gliding cable.
He wound his legs about it and clamped it between
his feet. The swift descent made him feel as if he
were sucking ice-cold air into his lungs. The cage,
some twenty-five or thirty feet below, was dropping
like a rock, but now Cole was following at an equal
rate of progress.
Ten floors slipped past, then fifteen, finally
twenty. Cole's hands were raw and bleeding. Hot
and cold flashes were chasing up and down his back.
His lungs were straining, and a treacherous numb-
ness was creeping into his limbs. He looked down
at the roof of the cage and smiled. No doubt the
fleeing man felt that his escape was already as good
as accomplished.
The cage stopped so suddenly that the vibration
of the cable almost made Cole lose his hold. He


I2O THE UNKNOWN SEVEN
slipped a little farther down, then checked his
descent opposite the level of the second floor. The
shaft was narrow, and he could easily reach the
door with one hand, while he clung to the cable
with the other. Installed for private and secret
use the elevator equipment lacked several safety de-
vices that would have acted as a hindrance to Cole.
As it was the door slid open easily. Seizing the
jamb with one hand he swung free of the cable
and landed on the floor.
He felt a trifle dizzy, but the thrill of pursuit
acted as a stimulant. Just around the shaft was a
stairway, and he hurried down. Only a few mo–
ments ago a metallic clanking had signified that
the fugitive was getting out of the cage. As Cole
reached the lower steps he saw a long open space
in front of him, and at its farther end he caught
a glimpse of the hunchback, slipping out through
the door. His ears caught the sound of throbbing
motors, warning him that a car was waiting out-
side “to speed the fugitive to safety. Conscious
of nothing but the exhilaration of the hunter he
bounded to the door and emerged on the sidewalk,
just as a tail light gave him a mocking wink and
disappeared around the corner.
There was a fine mist in the air. On all sides the
tops of the tall office buildings reared their heads
in a translucent haze. The streets, which in the
daytime swarmed with humanity, were now de-
serted. Cole guessed that it must be about two
o'clock, but he did not take time to look at his
watch. The taunt of the tail light egged him
on. He threw his head back and his chest out


PURSUIT I2I
and broke into a sprint. Rounding the corner at
full speed he once more caught a glimpse of the
jeering tail light. But it was only a glimpse, for a
moment later it was out of sight.
Cole tried to run faster, but he realized that,
unless something unforeseen happened, he was run-
ning a losing race. The car had the advantage in
speed and endurance. With scarcely a stop, save
for the possible interference of a traffic officer, it
might travel all the way from one end of Manhattan
to the other. He kept up the pursuit only because
he hated to cry quits. Besides, as long as he could
continue the chase, there was always the possibility
that chance might come to his aid.
Once more he caught sight of the tail light,
this time quite a distance ahead. Letting out the
final ounce of energy he succeeded in quickening his
speed a little. He ran and ran, but his breathing
became alarmingly heavy. It would not be long
before his wind gave out, but at least he would
have the satisfaction of knowing that he had done
his best. His gait was growing wabbly when the
unexpected occurrence for which he had been hop-
ing came along.
Not even a village street is quite so dead as is
the financial section of New York in the small
hours. Skyscrapers, towering in a jungle of silence
and dim lights, give a majestic touch to a stillness
that is seldom broken, save by the footfalls of
policemen and private watchmen. To Cole, there-
fore, it seemed nothing but a stroke of luck that
a taxicab should come along at that moment. He
hailed the driver.


I22 THE UNKNOWN SEVEN
“See that car?” He pointed at the tail light
twinkling in the distance. “Can you overtake it?”
“I’ll try,” said the chauffeur, peering at him
from beneath the visor of his cap. “This is a pretty
good old boat, though she ain't much on looks.
Good for a fine if I get pinched?”
“Sure,” said Cole easily, though not altogether
unmindful of the slender roll in his pocket. He
stepped in, and the cab jumped forward. It rattled
and lurched and creaked in the joints, as if in
imminent danger of falling to pieces, but he noticed
with satisfaction that it had a surprising capacity
for speed. It swerved and slithered at a giddy
rate, at times almost jogging him out of his seat.
Pursued and pursuer wound their way out of the
maze of chopped-up and tangled streets to the south
of Washington Square. The car ahead swung into
Fifth Avenue, at a slightly reduced speed, and the
taxicab slowed down accordingly. From now on it
was not only easier to keep up with the larger
car, but there was also less danger of the fugitive
becoming aware of pursuit, for, even at that hour,
there was a sprinkling of traffic on the avenue.
It suddenly dawned on Cole that he was in a
unique position. The capture of the hunchback now
seemed certain, but what was he to do with the
man after he had caught him? If he turned him
over to the police, which seemed the proper and
regular thing to do, he would be compelled to tell
things which, in a sense, he was pledged not to
reveal. Despite all that had happened and notwith-
standing the harsh treatment inflicted on him, he had
come away with a rather high opinion of The Un-


PURSUIT I23
known Seven. They had trusted him, at least for
a time, until the coming of the hunchback turned
their suspicions against him, and Cole was not in-
clined to violate a trust.
Now, that he came to think of it, there was
really very little he could tell, even if he were
disposed to divulge what he knew. In a strict
sense he did not know that the hunchback had mur-
dered Reeves. For that matter he did not know
that Reeves was dead. Though personally con-
vinced on both points he could not tell a convincing
story to the police, for he had neither witnessed
the commission of the crime nor seen Reeves' dead
body.
Still another thought came to him as he bobbed
up and down and from side to side in the cab.
He gave a short, dazed laugh. Even if he had
witnessed the deed and seen the body he would
have been unable to direct the police to the scene
of the crime. His dizzying descent in the elevator
shaft had left him a trifle giddy. He had rushed
away in great haste, his whole mind fixed on the
one idea that the hunchback must not be permitted
to get away. In his hurry he had given no thought
to the location of the building. He had strained
every nerve and muscle in his efforts to keep the car
in sight, and there had been no time to notice
street signs. Like many a New Yorker, he had
seldom had occasion to visit the financial section,
and many of the streets in that district were nothing
but names to him.
Though there was ample extenuation, Cole
chided himself for a blunderer. He had missed


I24 THE UNKNOWN SEVEN
his chance to learn where the headquarters of The
Unknown Seven was situated. The general bound-
aries of the neighborhood were a shade more clearly
defined in his mind, but he knew scarcely more than
he had known before. The rendezvous of the or—
ganization could be in any one of half a hundred
buildings. Even if he should stumble upon the
right one he doubted whether he would recognize it.
In the midst of his musings the cab stopped with
a suddenness that jerked him out of his seat. He
glanced out and saw that the hunchback's car had
halted two blocks ahead. They were somewhere in
the Sixties, and to the west were the black masses
of the park. The hunchback was getting out and
turning down the side street, but car and driver
were proceeding north.
A suspicion was dawning in Cole's mind as he
stepped out of the taxicab. It was rather odd
that the chase should have ended at this particular
point. He paid the chauffeur, adding a generous
tip to the fare. He hurried to the corner where
the car had stopped and swung into the side street,
just in time to see the hunchback disappear in the
shadow of a house. Cole hastened after him, stop-
ping before a dark and somber house with a brown-
stone front.
His hazy suspicion was confirmed. It was odd
how the scattered pieces of the mystery were begin-
ning to dovetail. His pursuit of the hunchback
had led him to the house of Doctor Dickson Latham.


CHAPTER XI
BEHIND THE LOCKED DOOR
HE moon was shining through a silver-gray
mist, giving the row of buildings a shadowy ap-
pearance. A fresh fragrance drifted out from the
park, on the scarcely perceptible breeze. A milk cart
rattled down the block; otherwise the street was
deserted.
Cole peered sharply into the dark basement en-
trance. He suspected the hunchback had entered
the doctor's house that way. Down the steps he
went and tried the knob, but the door was locked.
The two windows on each side were protected by
iron bars. He hesitated for a moment, and then he
mounted the steps to the main entrance and rang
the bell. There seemed to be nothing else he could
do, and the shifty-tongued doctor interested him
strangely. Latham's evasions would be entertaining,
if nothing else.
He waited patiently, for he had many things to
consider. Just what trend the forthcoming inter-
view was to take he did not know. That the
hunchback should have taken refuge in the physi-
cian's house was significant, especially since there
were good reasons for supposing that Latham was
responsible for the wrecking of Reeves' mind. That
he had also instigated the murder of the maniac
seemed only a reasonable sequence of the first sup-
position. In this connection Professor Carmody's


I28 THE UNKNOWN SEVEN
The glance had not escaped Cole. He picked his
words carefully. “Fifteen or twenty minutes ago,”
he began, “a man entered your house.”
“Yes?” asked the physician in a toneless voice.
“A hunchback,” Cole went on, guessing that the
doctor had carefully hidden the fellow, while Cole
had been kept waiting outside the door. “He en-
tered your basement, unless I'm mistaken. Odd
time for a call, doctor.”
“A physician, as you undoubtedly know, receives
callers at all hours. Nothing unusual in that.”
“But you will admit that this fellow's mode of
entrance was rather irregular? A physician's pa-
tients do not usually sneak in the basement way.”
“Very true, but please come to the point, Mr. Stone.
You must grant that I have a right to receive vis-
itors any way I choose, even through the chimney,
if it pleases my fancy. You tell me that a hunch-
back entered my house by the basement door. I
neither deny nor affirm it, but, without wishing to
seem rude, may I ask what it is to you?”
“Suppose the fellow were a criminal?”
“I never inquire into the moral character of my
patients. Their physical welfare is all that concerns
me.”
“But suppose this individual had committed a
murder? You would not care to harbor a mur-
derer in your house, would you?”
A slight flicker of uneasiness showed in the doc-
tor's eyes. “A murderer? Aren't you carrying
your suppositions rather too far, Mr. Stone?”
Again he cast a sidelong glance at the inner door.
Cole sensed a hidden significance in the doctor's at-


BEHIND THE LOCKED DOOR 129
tention to that door. It puzzled him almost as much
as did the stain on the cuff. He thought quickly,
estimating how much he stood to gain or lose by a
direct attack.
“I’m not supposing,” he declared bluntly. “I
know there is a murderer in your house.”
“Oh!” The doctor's tone was tense and very
low. “Whom did he murder?”
“Malcolm Reeves.”
“Mal—Malcolm Reeves?” In an instant the
physician had kicked back his chair and was on his
feet. With the cigar tightly clamped between his
bearded lips he stared hard at Cole. His eyes were
bright as metal, but there was a glint of grave con-
cern in their depths. In that moment Cole would
have been ready to swear that Latham's consterna-
tion was genuine.
“Is Reeves dead?” asked the doctor hoarsely.
Cole gave him a level glance. “He was murdered
less than two hours ago, and the murderer is in your
house.”
The physician stared for a moment longer. An
indistinct mutter came from his lips. Cole wondered
whether his face was not pale under the glossy black
beard. Despite his bewilderment and his feeling
that the doctor's emotions were sincere, he glowed
inwardly with satisfaction. At last Latham's superb
composure had been shattered; now he must pursue
his advantage before the doctor could rally his
mental forces and ply him with unanswerable ques-
tions.
“Doctor Latham,” he asked quickly, “do you


I30 THE UNKNOWN SEVEN
deny that there is a hunchbacked fellow in the
house?”
The doctor sat down again. “I don't feel called
upon either to deny or affirm it,” he declared.
Cole leaned forward across the desk. “How did
that stain get on your cuff, doctor?”
The physician's arm was stretched out flat on the
table, and Cole pointed to the soiled cuff. Latham
looked down; for an instant, as he saw the blot, his
eyes widened in astonishment.
“Oh, that!” He shrugged his shoulders. “I had
a simple surgical case a while ago. It wasn't serious
enough to take to a hospital, so I performed it in
my own office.”
“I didn't know physicians ever performed opera-
tions in their pajamas. No accounting for eccen-
tricities, though. Will you do me a favor, doctor?”
“That depends. What is it?”
Cole pointed carelessly to the door at which the
doctor had been covertly glancing from time to time.
“I would like to see what is behind that door,
if you don't mind,” he remarked languidly.
Again a gleam of uneasiness crept into the doc-
tor's eyes. He regarded Cole intently, as if trying
to ferret out the reason for the request. Cole, a thin
smile on his lips, was puffing leisurely at his cigar.
“Why?” demanded the doctor.
“Just a fancy. You have no objection, I hope?”
The doctor drew himself up. He sat stiffly erect
in his chair. A mask seemed to fall from his face.
Dropping all pretense of geniality, his features took
on a threatening look. “I don't care to humor your
fancy, Mr. Stone,” he declared coldly.


BEHIND THE LOCKED DOOR I31
With excessive care Cole ashed his cigar. Then
he got up and, with a slow, but firm, tread, walked
toward the door in the rear. IHis fingers closed
around the knob.
“Stop!” cried the doctor sharply.
Cole turned and gave him an amused glance.
“You are a detective, I suppose?” said Latham.
“In a way,” admitted Cole modestly.
“Have you a search warrant?”
Cole shook his head.
“Then I must regard you as a trespasser. Mr.
Stone, the moment you open that door you will be a
dead man.”
He reached into a pocket of his dressing gown.
In the next instant a small pistol glittered banefully
in his hand. He raised it till Cole could gaze
straight into the muzzle. His eyes, as he looked
Ominously at him, emitted the same cold, metallic
gleam as the barrel of the weapon.
Cole gave him a long, searching look, and he was
a keen judge of faces. At the end of the inspection
he shrugged. “Doctor Latham,” he said evenly,
“you haven't the nerve to kill me.” He turned the
knob and walked in.


CHAPTER XII
I N F O U R R O U N DS
IN stony silence Doctor Latham watched the bold
move. As Cole opened the door, a diffident look
came into his face. He toyed awkwardly with the
pistol, looked dubiously at the barrel, finally put the
weapon back in his pocket. “It seems you win this
round,” he muttered.
The room which Cole had entered was dark. His
hand fumbled along the wall till he found a knob.
At his pressure a light appeared, and it revealed
a man sprawled out in a chair. Except that the
coat had been removed he was fully dressed, and
it seemed to Cole that he was sound asleep.
He recognized the sallow face of the hunchback,
having caught a brief glimpse of it just as the ele-
vator started. It was not a pleasant face. The
twisted lips looked as though the teeth had been
bared in a snarl just before the man fell asleep.
Cole thought he might be a thug or professional
gunman. He looked away and saw Latham in the
doorway.
“You’re a cool one,” murmured the physician,
a trace of admiration in his tone. “Didn't you know
I was ready to shoot you?”
“You didn’t,” was the laconic answer.
Tatham came closer. He was once more suave
and genial. Cole fancied his astute brain was at
work on a scheme of some sort. “Have you seen


I34 THE UNKNOWN SEVEN
“and I strongly advise against disturbing him for
the present. I believe a physician's advice is usually
heeded in such cases.”
“Your patient seemed to be in excellent health a
little while ago,” observed Cole.
“Really, you must permit me to be the judge as
to his physical condition.”
Cole eyed him levelly. “You are a very clever
man, Doctor Latham. I believe you deliberately
drugged this so-called patient of yours so that he
couldn't be removed. It was a fairly ingenious
stroke.”
Latham gave him a curious glance. “That's a
very odd way of looking at the situation,” he re-
marked thoughtfully. “I wonder if you aren't a
bit disingenuous. However, it doesn't matter. This
seems to be my round.”
His faintly gloating tone nettled Cole. As far
as he could see he was outmaneuvered on every
point. Hopeless as the situation seemed to be, he
was determined not to leave the house a defeated
man. He rekindled his cigar, then gazed with mild
reproach at the glowing tip. A cigar never gave
him the mental stimulus that he derived from his
musty old pipe at home. Besides, the doctor's slyly
amused glances were disconcerting. Cole's thoughts
would not travel in a straight line, and he grew
more uncomfortable as he noticed that his helpless-
ness was beginning to impress the doctor as queer.
He turned, placed the half-smoked cigar on a
tray, and glanced through the open door leading
into the office. The nickel trimmings of a tele-
phone gleamed under the electric drop light over


IN FOUR ROUNDS I35
the desk. The sight of the instrument seemed to
give Cole an idea. Deliberately he walked into the
other room and picked up the directory.
“May I ask what you intend doing?” inquired the
physician, following him.
“I know a doctor who lives not far from here,”
said Cole absently, while he hastily turned the pages
of the book. “I’m going to call him in for a con-
Sultation over your patient. If the fellow is in a
bad way, two doctors are better than one. If
there's nothing wrong with him, I want to know it.
Ah!” his index finger halted in the center of a page.
“Plaza 28826.”
A faint mutter of dismay escaped the doctor.
He stood at Cole's back, while the detective put the
receiver to his ear.
“A consultation is quite unnecessary, I assure
you,” declared Latham.
Cole grinned into the transmitter. He suspected
Latham would agree to bring his “patient” back to
consciousness rather than have another physician
called in. A thousand slight murmurs sounded on
the wire, and then came the operator's brisk “Num-
ber, please.”
Cole spoke the number distinctly. He expected
Latham would yield rather than suffer a blow to
his professional reputation, but the physician's cun-
ning rendered the matter uncertain. And, even if
his ruse succeeded, Cole would score only a tempo-
rary advantage. He was not yet sure what his
next move was to be. While waiting for the con-
nection he glanced over his shoulder. Latham,


I36 THE UNKNOWN SEVEN
hands clasped at his back, was walking back and
forth.
Suddenly Cole's face went blank. A jarring noise
sounded in his ears. In the next instant he knew
he was holding a dead instrument in his hand. All
sounds had abruptly ceased. He heard Latham's
triumphant chuckle as he hung up the receiver.
“It appears the third round is also mine,” mur-
mured Latham, his bearded lips parting in a gratified
smile. In his right hand he held a pair of steel
nippers.
Cole gritted his teeth, but smiled complacently.
“I would call it a draw,” he said. “Your act of
cutting the wire was a confession, doctor; a con-
fession that you are up to deviltry. I knew it all
along, of course, but I'm glad you showed your hand
so plainly. It's an advantage to me to know that
you have something to fear.”
“I hope you derive a lot of satisfaction from it,”
declared Latham easily. “I fail to see how it is
going to do you any practical good, though.”
Cole himself was not quite clear on that point.
It was a moral advantage rather than a physical
one. He gazed steadily at the physician, studying
the triangular outlines of the black, neatly trimmed
beard. It was a bit tantalizing to consider how
many shifting expressions that glossy appendage
might conceal. It acted as a mask, and he was
permitted to see through it only when the bearded
lips parted in a flash of teeth. Just now the face
told him nothing. It merely gave him an impres-
sion of a man of unfathomable secrets and a deeply


IN FOUR ROUNDS I37
plotting mind. Cole felt at once baffled and fasci-
nated.
“I am curious to know what you will try next,”
said Latham after a long pause. “I don't want to
seem inhospitable, but I'm getting deucedly sleepy.”
He yawned ostentatiously. “If you have nothing
further to propose ” He looked significantly at
the door.
Cole considered for a moment longer, then he
selected the most comfortable chair in the room and
sat down. With a languid air he stretched out his
legs and leaned back. “I am worried about your
patient,” he declared, with a sly wink at the room
in the rear. “If you have no objection, I’ll hang
around till he comes to. This is a very comfort-
able chair. Could I trouble you for another of
those excellent cigars?”
The doctor stood in front of him, and Cole fan-
cied there was a frown beneath the beard. “You
are going too far,” said Latham severely. “Sup-
pose I should throw you out?”
“That would be very rude, doctor. Besides, it
couldn't be done.”
Latham came a step closer. Slowly his crafty.
eyes moved up and down Cole's figure. Evidently
he concluded that the languid appearance of the
man in the chair was deceptive.
“I might summon help,” he suggested.
“You might, but I hardly think you will. Being
a prudent man, you realize it wouldn't do to stir
up things. It's far preferable, from your point of
view, to confine this interview to ourselves. What
about another of those cigars, doctor?”


138 THE UNKNOWN SEVEN
Latham did not move. His eyelids narrowed a
trifle as he continued to gaze at Cole. “You puz-
zle me,” he declared. “You come here represent-
ing yourself to be a detective, but your conduct is
very peculiar. You say the hunchback in the other
room is a murderer, but you have made no move
toward arresting him.”
“I am naturally lazy,” confessed Cole blandly,
“and it would be too much of an exertion to carry
the fellow out of here on my back.”
“Have you a warrant for his arrest?”
“None is needed,” said Cole easily, though he per-
ceived that the conversation was taking a danger-
ous turn. “It is enough that I have reasonable
cause for believing that the man has committed a
felony.”
His tone faltered slightly on the word “reason-
able.” In his imagination he could picture the faces
of the police officials, if he should undertake to tell
them what had happened.
Latham continued his piercing scrutiny for a few
moments longer. “You looked to me like an im-
postor,” he declared. “I’ll wager you haven’t even
so much as a pair of handcuffs on your person.”
Cole jerked himself up straight in the chair.
His twinkling eyes bespoke an inspiration. From
his pocket he drew a small pair of steel links.
“Small, but substantial,” he said musingly. “A
friend gave them to me once. I have so little use
for them that I wouldn't carry them around except
for the fact that they are so light and take so little
space in the pocket. Once, in an unexpected pinch,


IN FOUR ROUNDS I39
they proved handy, and I have been carrying them
ever since.”
He got up and briskly walked into the room in
the rear. A muffled exclamation escaped the doctor,
as Cole fastened one of the links around the hunch-
back's wrist. Then, with surprising ease, he lifted
the man out of the chair and carried him to an
operating table in a corner of the room.
“What are you doing?” inquired Latham sharply,
too amazed at Cole's conduct to be able to interfere.
A short laugh was Cole's only answer. He
stretched the unconscious man out on the operating
table.
“Are you crazy?” spluttered the doctor.
“What ” He stopped short as he saw Cole's
intention, but now it was too late to act. Cole had
placed the limp figure in such a way that the arm,
from which the steel links dangled, was hanging
down along the side of the table. In a twinkling
he had fastened the other link around one of the
iron legs. The unconscious man was now securely
chained to the table.
Cole turned and regarded the physician with a
good-humored expression. “My round, and it's as
good as a knock-out,” he observed.
Latham stared dumfoundedly. He saw what had
happened, but he appeared at a loss to grasp the
meaning of it. “What do you hope to gain by
such tomfoolery?” he demanded.
“A lot,” said Cole softly. “Your patient can't
get away unless he takes the table with him, and
that would attract attention. A fleeing murderer is
under quite a handicap when he is chained to an


I40 THE UNKNOWN SEVEN
operating table. I notice it is all iron and strongly
built. The legs are soldered to the top, so it won't
be easy to take it apart. A skilled craftsman could
do it, but I believe you have a strong aversion
against calling in outsiders.”
The cold gleam in Latham's eyes told that he
understood. His gaze was fixed in a speculative
way on the two steel links.
“They could be filed off,” admitted Cole, guess-
ing his thoughts, “but it would take a long time
to get through the chilled steel of which they are
made. An expert might be able to unlock them,
but there again you are hampered by your preju-
dice against outsiders. You can't slip the link off
the iron leg, for the braces down below prevent
that. Barring accidents, I think my man will stay
here till I’m ready to come and get him.”
Doctor Latham seemed a trifle dazed. He ran
his fingers awkwardly through his beard while look-
ing bewilderedly at Cole. “You are an astounding
person,” he declared.
“You are another, doctor.” Cole smiled engag-
ingly. “Sorry to have interrupted your night's rest.
Are you going to charge me for this visit? I be-
lieve it was ten dollars last time.”
“Go to blazes l’” said Doctor Latham. He stood
motionless beside the unconscious man, while Cole
walked out of the room.


CHAPTER XIII
THE MORNING's MAIL
UST as the clock struck eleven, the following
morning, Kingdon Cole emerged in a tingle
and glow from his cold shower. He had retired
shortly before dawn, so he had considered himself
entitled to sleep till a late hour, and now he felt
the exuberant strength and freshness that make a
man eager for work.
He stepped to the window, raised the shade, and
looked out upon a gray and drizzly world. He
scowled a little. Like all highly sensitized persons,
he was easily susceptible to the weather. When the
sky was clouded, his face was apt to wear a frown.
When the sun shone, his face shone with it. A
glance in the evening at the weather forecast could
have told him what mood he was to be in the next
day, granting that weather predictions were always
accurate.
He turned from the window as Toots, with a
plaintive “meow,” rubbed her curled back against
his leg. “Hungry P” inquired Cole, locking at the
cat with an expression of grave responsibility.
Toots held her tail erect and seemed to think
the question wholly superfluous. With a dutiful
air Cole brought in the milk bottle, also two letters
which he found outside his door. After a glance
at the handwriting he tossed them on the table and
proceeded to appease Toots' hunger. He went about
it with all the awkwardness of an overgrown boy,


I42 THE UNKNOWN SEVEN
spilling a part of the milk beside the saucer, then
stood aside and watched Toots lick it up.
Over his coffee and toast, a few minutes later,
he started to read his mail. One of the letters was
addressed in a strange feminine handwriting, and
he opened it first. He suddenly stopped eating and
took in the contents at a glance. The note read:
“Come back. I trust you. MISS B.”
Beneath the signature was a row of X's. Cole
counted seven of them; they were the insignia of
The Unknown Seven, of course. It was gratify-
ing to know that the mysterious Miss Brown still
had faith in him, despite the suspicions of the other
members of the organization, but her frankness
puzzled him. If the others thought him guilty of
duplicity, why did she not think likewise? She
had seen and heard precisely the same things that
the others had seen and heard. As far as he knew,
she had no facts on which her favorable opinion of
him could have been based. What, then, was the
reason for her attitude?
“Woman's intuition, I suppose,” mused Cole with
a glance at Toots. “That probably accounts for it.
But how does the charming Miss Brown expect
me to find my way back to the headquarters of
The Unknown Seven? To locate the building would
be about as ticklish a job as finding a needle in a
haystack. I don't see why she— Yes, I do!
She has naturally taken it for granted that I had
sense enough to make a mental note of the street
and number when I made my hasty exit last night.
She doesn't know what a half-cocked idiot I am.
Shucks!”


THE MORNING'S MAIL I43
Cole made a wry face. Somehow he must man-
age to find the headquarters of The Unknown
Seven. Unless he answered Miss Brown's sum-
mons, she would naturally suppose that her faith in
him had been misplaced and that he was remaining
away because of a sense of guilt. Cole resolved he
would canvass every block in lower Manhattan
before permitting such a thing to happen. How
to go about it was another matter, however. A sys-
tematic search would eventually lead him to the
building, but that would mean a waste of valuable
time. He must find the headquarters of The Un-
known Seven without delay, not only because Miss
Brown had faith in him, but also for the more prac-
tical reason that he would not know what to do
with the hunchback until he had positive knowledge
of Malcolm Reeves’ death.
He had no fear that his prisoner would escape
from Doctor Latham's house. He had left the
hunchback in a predicament from which the astute
physician would not be able to release him without
a great deal of difficulty; but Cole did not depend
on that alone. Tony Pinto, a ragged urchin whose
habitat was the picturesquely squalid section around
Chatham Square, was watching the doctor's resi-
dence. Cole, who had earned the lad's everlasting
gratitude by once doing him a small service, had
instructed him to keep a sharp eye on the place.
Tony had the wits of a fox and the legs of a deer,
and a great ambition to become a detective. If
an attempt should be made to spirit the hunchback
away, Tony would find it out and report to Cole
instantly.


I44 THE UNKNOWN SEVEN
Finishing his breakfast he lighted his pipe and
composed himself for hard thinking. The tobacco
smoke grew so thick in the room that Toots blinked
at him reproachfully. Suddenly an idea came to
him. He recalled having heard Grover Carlin say
that a number of the members of The Unknown
Seven had offices in the building. Cole had recog-
nized several of the members, the previous evening,
from photographs that had appeared from time to
time in the newspapers, in connection with their
social and financial activities. Right here was a
clew to the location of the headquarters.
He picked up the telephone directory and found
the name of Vincent de Witte, one of the men
whom he had recognized. He glanced at the finan-
cier's office address, and he saw his clew slipping
out of his fingers. The address was somewhere in
Union Square, much too far north to be anywhere
near the building he was searching for. Next he
looked up the address of Stephen Aldrich, but with
no more success. The philanthropist's offices, ac-
cording to the directory, were in the Times Square
district.
Cole tried two other names, then tossed the book
away in disgust. It came to him that men like De
Witte and Aldrich were engaged in multifarious
enterprises and probably had two or more suites of
offices in different sections of the city. Likely as
not the business enterprises which they were con-
ducting in the headquarters building were under
corporate names, not generally known to the public.
It was not to be expected that men so shrewd as
The Unknown Seven had proven themselves to be


I46 THE UNKNOWN SEVEN
“DEAR SIR: Mr. Englebreth desires me to notify
you that he no longer requires your services. In-
closed please find check for services rendered to
date.”
Cole stared hard at the few typewritten lines.
The stiffly worded communication was signed by
Hector Englebreth's secretary. The prim type and
the severe plainness of the engraved name and
address in the upper left-hand corner seemed to
convey a breath of the heavy, tomblike atmosphere
that pervaded the Englebreth house.
He chuckled lightly as he flung the letter aside.
It was not the first time that his independent con-
duct had lost him a client, and the fact that he was
now cut off from all official contact with the Reeves
mystery did not worry him in the least. There was
nothing to prevent him from attacking the prob-
lem on his own account. The curt dismissal puz-
zled him, however. He wondered what he had
done to displease Englebreth. His client's warning,
spoken just as Cole was leaving the somber old
house the other day, flashed across his mind.
“Be careful,” Englebreth had said.
The words had had a cryptic sound. Cole had
wondered at their meaning then, and he wondered
now. Had Englebreth dismissed him because of his
failure to heed a warning which he had not under-
stood? Once before it had occurred to him that
perhaps his client had learned, in some mysterious
manner, of his relations with The Unknown Seven.
Was that what had been in Englebreth’s mind when
he uttered that strange warning? Did his client
suspect that Cole was betraying him by conduct-


THE MORNING'S MAIL I47
ing secret negotiations with an enemy? The idea
did not seem very plausible, but he could think of
no other solution. On the whole he felt Englebreth
had treated him rather shabbily. He had worked
hard and loyally on the case. The abrupt dismissal
was, in reality, a reflection on his honesty. In his
resentment he resolved to demand an explanation
of his former client.
He glanced dubiously at the telephone, recalling
that on several occasions Englebreth had expressed
a dislike to holding conversations over the wire, and
he decided that an interview, face to face, would
be more satisfactory. He poured out another sau-
cerful of milk for Toots, and half an hour later he
was ringing the doorbell of the Englebreth house
on Fifth Avenue.
The drizzle and the leaden sky conferred an
added touch of melancholy upon the dismal man-
sion. The chill, which he always felt on entering
the house, had a keener edge this time. The rooms,
with the window shades lowered as always, seemed
darker and more oppressively silent than usual.
The manservant who admitted him regarded him
with an air of thinly veiled suspicion.
“I’ll see if Mr. Englebreth is at home, sir,” he
announced. His feet made no sound as he crossed
the thickly carpeted floor and passed through a
door that turned silently on its hinges. In a few
moments he was back. “Mr. Englebreth is not at
home,” he declared, dropping the habitual “sir.”
Cole got up from his chair and gave the servant
a playful poke in the ribs. It was a grotesque


THE MORNING'S MAIL I49
so I thought it only proper that she should have
her say. After I had placed certain facts before
her, she agreed with me that your usefulness to us
is past.”
“Certain facts? What were they?”
“I think you know,” said Englebreth in a hard,
dry tone. His deep-set eyes, oddly brilliant in con-
trast to his pale face, regarded Cole accusingly. “I
am disappointed in you, Mr. Cole. You impressed
me as an upright, honest man, and I had hoped for
better things from you. One of the harshest expe-
riences in life is the discovery that one has placed
his trust in a person who isn’t worthy of it.”
Cole's face hardened, and there was an ominous
gleam in his eye. “I think you had better explain
that statement, Mr. Englebreth,” he said with slow
emphasis.
Englebreth shrugged. “You are not candid with
me. You know quite well what I mean, so why
pretend? For instance, can you look me straight in
the eyes and tell me that you gave a full and truth-
ful report when you were here the other day?”
“It was truthful,” said Cole, “and as complete
as I could make it under the circumstances. If I
did not tell quite all I knew, it was because I was
uncertain in regard to some of the facts.”
A wraith of a smile twisted Englebreth's thin
lips. “And what about the warning I gave you? I
hoped it would serve as a hint that I was aware of
certain mysterious movements on your part. Why
did you disregard it?”
A long silence ensued. Each man gazed sharply


I5o THE UNKNOWN SEVEN
into the other's eyes. There was a glint of steel
in Cole's, a look of stern reproach in Englebreth's.
“Well?” said the invalid. The pale, mirthless
smile was still hovering about his lips. “What have
you to say, Mr. Cole?”
“You have been spying on me evidently?”
“You are using an unpleasant word. I have
merely verified certain suspicions that concern you.
I have also discovered certain facts which you have
seen fit to conceal from me, facts which have a
direct bearing on the fate of my brother-in-law. I
don’t think there is anything further to be said.”
Cole got up. He could not understand where,
or by what means, the invalid had obtained his in-
formation, but it was evident that Englebreth's mind
was made up, and that no amount of argument
could make him change his views.
“You are wrong, Mr. Englebreth,” he said evenly.
“A lot of queer things have happened, things I
don’t understand myself. But, believe it or not, I
have played fair with you from beginning to end.
Some time before long I hope to prove it to you.”
“Indeed!” said Englebreth. “I am sure it will
be interesting.”
His tone and the smile that accompanied the
words made Cole instinctively clench his fists. Then
he turned away, before his anger should get the
better of him, and hurried from the house. Out in
the drizzle and under the gray sky he shook off
his resentment and laughed at himself. It was
ridiculous that a peevish old invalid should make
him lose his temper. Some day, when he had
probed the Reeves affair to the bottom, he would


THE MORNING'S MAIL I5I
make Englebreth eat his words. Just now he had
more important things to consider than the asper-
sions of an infirm old man.
He crossed the street and was about to board a
bus when he chanced to look back and saw a large
car draw up in front of the house. A moment
later the massive front door opened, and two serv-
ants appeared, carrying Englebreth between them.
They assisted him into the car, and Cole gazed
speculatively after the vehicle, as it glided away
down Fifth Avenue. It was a rare thing for Engle-
breth to venture beyond the gloomy confines of his
house, and Cole wondered where he might be going.
Perhaps he was about to get into touch with his
mysterious source of information. In that case
Cole might learn a great deal by following him.
“Taxi, sir,” said a voice, and a cab slowed down
at the corner where he stood. Cole's hesitation
lasted only a moment longer.
“Follow that green car over there,” he directed.
The chauffeur nodded, and Cole jumped in. The
puieuit proved long and devious; again and again
Cole chided himself for wasting valuable time.
Then the green car stopped in front of an office
building, and the chauffeur went inside. Cole dis-
missed the taxi and took up a position across the
Street. From where he stood he could catch an
Occasional glimpse of Englebreth through the partly
shaded window of the car.
“Guess I’m chasing a wild goose,” he glumly told
himself.
Englebreth’s chauffeur reappeared, accompanied
by another man, and the two lifted the invalid from


I52 THE UNKNOWN SEVEN
the car and carried him inside the building. Slowly
Cole started to cross the street. The man assisting
the chauffeur seemed to carry his part of the bur-
den awkwardly, and Cole could hear the infirm
man's peevish protests. The two men entered an
elevator with their load, and the cage started up-
ward, just as Cole stepped inside the building.
A strange, unaccountable feeling came over him
as he gazed after the disappearing lift. He was
conscious of a faint tingling from head to foot.
With an abstracted look in his eyes he gazed up-
ward, then to the sides. He moved about along the
row of elevators, and even his footfalls had a curi-
ous sound, a sound that he seemed to vaguely rec-
ognize. The elevator starter approached and in-
quired what he was looking for, but Cole only
shook his head in a preoccupied way.
Suddenly he laughed aloud. In a twinkling all
his confused impressions clarified. Once more he
glanced upward. He knew, though he could not
tell why or how, that far overhead was the rendez-
vous of The Unknown Seven.


CHAPTER XIV,
CoLE's RUSE
OLE'S conviction that he had found the build-
ing occupied by The Unknown Seven was a
matter of instinct rather than reason. He felt that
once before, and not so long ago, his feet had trod
the squares of stone that composed the floor. The
surroundings had a remotely familiar appearance;
perhaps he had subconsciously caught a glimpse of
them as he rushed out in pursuit of the hunchback.
Along the wall opposite the elevators was a row
of small shops, a cigar store, a haberdashery, a
news stand, and, on the corner, the office of a
broker. Cole glanced at the signs, and they stirred
hazy recollections in the back of his mind.
There could be no doubt of it; chance and Mr.
Englebreth had led him to the very place he had
been most anxious to find.
On the wall in the back was a directory of the
tenants. “Security Building” it said at the top, and
the very name smacked of conservatism, stability,
and decorum. It spelled efficiency and prose and
left the imagination untouched. It hinted of things
far removed from the secret activities of the group
of strange men who occupied the top floor. He
ran his eyes down the names of corporations and
individuals, but there was none that interested him.
Among the former were probably several in which
members of . The Unknown Seven were concerned,
but he had no means of identifying them.


COLE'S RUSE I55
were greatly mistaken, the door was the entrance
to the private elevator.
Wishing to verify his surmise, he walked up to
the starter and, in a tone which might have signi-
fied that he was an agent for the building depart-
ment or the inspector of an insurance company,
inquired by whom the private door was being used.
“A bunch of nuts,” said the starter, moved to
loquacity by Cole's official air. “They come an’ go
at all hours. They's some big bugs among 'em, too.
Guess they belong to wunna them secret societies.”
Cole tried to learn more, but the man became
suddenly tight-lipped and referred him to the super-
intendent of the building for further information.
“It’s agin' my orders to talk about the tenants,”
he added.
Cole nodded understandingly and stepped aside.
The locked door seemed to bar further progress
for the present. Just then he remembered his origi-
nal errand. He had almost forgotten Englebreth.
The cage into which he had seen the invalid car-
ried had just reached the ground floor and was
disgorging passengers. Cole waited till it was ready
to make another trip, then stepped in and slipped
a small bill into the operator's hand.
“You carried up a crippled person some ten or
fifteen minutes ago,” he said in an undertone.
“Where did he go?”
“Oh, him!” The operator grinned as he stuffed
the bill into a pocket. “He comes here every now
and then. You'll find him in 2512, sir. It's the top
floor.”
Cole got out on the twenty-fifth floor. To all


COLE'S RUSE I57.
aboard an uptown train, bound for Doctor Latham's
residence. He suspected that in the pockets of the
hunchback he would find a key that would unlock
the door. If his guess had been correct, and the
door opened into the elevator used by The Un-
known Seven, then the hunchback must have passed
through that very door the previous night. He
could not have done so unless he had a duplicate
key. He might have thrown it away, of course,
but the chances were that it was still in his pos-
session.
Cole looked sharply about him as he walked down
the block in which the doctor resided. He knew
Tony was lurking somewhere in the neighborhood,
but the youngster had a surprising knack at mak-
ing himself inconspicuous when the occasion de-
manded it. He rang the doctor's doorbell and was
told by the white-capped attendant who admitted
him that the physician was engaged with a patient.
Cole waited in the reception room. Evidently
Latham did not permit his other enterprises to inter-
fere with his practice, for several patients were
waiting to consult him.
Presently the door opened, and the doctor arched
his brows as he saw Cole in the waiting group.
After a moment's hesitancy he motioned him to
enter the consulting room.
“How is the patient, doctor?” inquired Cole
briskly, glancing at the door in the rear.
Latham stroked his glossy beard. “As well as
can be expected, considering the awkward position
you left him in. He has difficulty getting about.”


158 THE UNKNOWN SEVEN
“Then you have not yet succeeded in extricating
him from his embarrassing predicament?”
“Oh, no!” said the doctor with a dry laugh. “I
haven't even tried. I just removed him to one of
the spare bedrooms upstairs. He was in the way
down here. You wish to have a talk with him, I
suppose? I fear it is impossible. He grew hys-
terical a while ago, and I had to give him a seda-
tive.”
“It doesn't matter. I just want to look at him.”
Latham gave him a queer glance, then he smiled
knowingly. “I see,” he murmured. “You wish to
make sure that he hasn’t escaped, despite the handi-
cap you imposed on him. This way.”
He opened a door and preceded Cole up a flight
of stairs. They entered a room, and Cole saw the
hunchback stretched out on the operating table and
sound asleep. The physician watched him narrowly
as Cole stepped up to the recumbent man and began
to explore his pockets. A blank look came into the
doctor's eyes when Cole, with a murmur of satis-
faction, extracted a key.
“As I observed once before,” said Latham, “you
are a most astounding person. I wonder what the
significance of that key might be.”
“Every key has a mission, doctor, and that is to
unlock some door.”
The physician regarded him thoughtfully. “I
don't understand you at all. You do such unex-
pected things. I am still wondering what your in-
tentions are with respect to my patient.”
“For the present my only concern is that he shan’t
get away.”


COLE'S RUSE I59
The doctor pondered for a few moments Ionger,
then he shrugged his shoulders, and the two men
walked down the stairs in silence. As they reached
the consultation office and were about to pass into
the outer room, Latham paused with his hand on
the doorknob. “Would it surprise you very much,”
he asked in slow, incisive accents, “if I were to tell
you that I am just as anxious as you can possibly
be that the fellow upstairs shan’t get away?”
Cole's eyes opened wide. “No, it wouldn't sur-
prise me. I would simply be unable to follow you.
You are a deep one, doctor; nothing that you could
say or do would startle me.”
Latham's face relaxed in a smile. “I construe
that as a compliment. Please appease my curiosity
on one point. You have taken extraordinary pre-
cautions against my patient escaping, but what about
myself? Aren't you afraid that I might run away?”
“I am not,” said Cole emphatically. “You are
not the kind that runs away. You work by subtler
means than that. Where men of coarser mentality
would kill an undesirable person, you merely ren-
der him harmless. If, later on, it should prove
absolutely necessary to remove him, you hire another
man to perform the nasty job. Your sensitive soul
shrinks from vulgar tactics and sordid actons. For
the same reason you don’t run away from danger.
Instead, you plan your moves so carefully in advance
that the risk is reduced to the lowest possible mini-
mum, and flight becomes unnecessary.”
It was a rather blunt speech, and Cole had spoken
so plainly only because he wished to watch the
effect on the doctor. In the end he was disap-


16o THE UNKNOWN SEVEN
pointed. The expansive beard concealed all out-
ward signs of emotion; the face was no more ex-
pressive than a wooden image. For just a moment
the eyes shone with a cold gleam, but that was all.
When Cole had finished, the bearded lips parted
in a pleased smile.
“Thanks,” murmured Latham. “Too bad we
appear to be enemies. I like you immensely—I
really do.”
He held the door open and Cole went out. As
he walked toward the subway he was almost inclined
to share the doctor's regret that they were enemies.
There was something at once attractive and repellent
about Latham. His subtleties, his cool audacity,
and his flashing wits made him a charming person-
ality, and there was a certain fascination even about
his cold cynicism and conscienceless manner. Cole
came away from the doctor's house with a spell
hanging over him. But, aside from these things,
there were phases of Latham's character that he
could not understand. Stray remarks, which the
doctor had dropped, and certain telltale gestures
and mannerisms lingered in his memory while he
rode downtown.
“A fascinating riddle and a highly accomplished
villain,” was his way of summing up the doctor’s
many-sided personality, as he got out of the sub-
way and turned toward the Security Building.
He entered and, key in hand, walked direct to
the private door. The elevator starter gave him
an astonished glance, but did not interfere. The
key fitted easily. Cole opened the door and stepped
in, then quickly closed it behind him. He was in


COLE'S RUSE I61
a narrow cage, with a small electric bulb at the
top. He looked about him in bewilderment, for
there was no sign of any apparatus by which the
elevator could be started. Carlin had told him that
there was a peculiar mechanism that could be oper-
ated only by the initiated, but all Cole saw was a
dial with figures along the rim and a knob in the
center. It looked like the combination lock of a
Safe.
He twirled the knob back and forth, but without
result. He tried several different combinations on
the dial, but the elevator refused to budge. With
ingrained stubbornness he persisted in his efforts,
but in the end he was forced to confess that the
task was beyond him. He was on the point of get-
ting out when a key grated in the lock. A moment
later the door came open, and Miss Brown entered
the cage.
She started slightly as she saw him. Cole looked
at her, and his frown melted. She was simply, but
charmingly, attired in a tailor-made suit of some
soft, gray material the name of which was not in-
cluded in Cole's vocabulary.
“Oh, you came !” she exclaimed.
“Yes, but I didn't get very far.” Cole regarded
her with a half humorous, half reproachful glance.
Her plain little hat set off to perfection the lily-
white complexion and the hair like ruffled sunshine.
“How did you expect me to manipulate the contrap-
tion P”
“I didn't really expect you to,” she told him,
while she whirled the knob back and forth a num-


I62 THE UNKNOWN SEVEN
ber of times. “In fact, I was sure it would stump
you, but the others had their doubts on that point.”
“I see,” said Cole dryly, as the cage rocketed
upward. “If I had shown that I knew how to oper-
ate the mechanism I would have convicted myself
of duplicity, and the suspicions of the others would
have been confirmed. But don't you see that a man
who is clever enough to ferret out secrets while
blindfolded would not betray himself so flagrantly P’’
There was a twinkle of mirth in her deep-blue
eyes. “Clever men are often vain. You might have
construed my note as a challenge to your dexterity.
It wasn’t that, of course. It was only a test of your
honesty.”
“And now you are convinced?”
“I was practically convinced before, but the others
needed proof.”
“What convinced you?”
The blue eyes regarded him shrewdly, almost im–
personally. Cole was reminded of a biologist watch-
ing a controlled experiment.
“I am seldom mistaken in matters of that kind,”
she said simply.
The cage stopped. As they got out, Cole abruptly
asked the question that had been uppermost in his
mind all the time. “What about Reeves?”
“Dead, stabbed through the heart. He was
breathing his last when we found him.”
Cole nodded grimly. Miss Brown's words had
merely confirmed something of which he had been
practically certain. They had gone through the hid-
den door in the wall by this time and were now in
the corridor. They passed several men who bowed


COLE'S RUSE 163
respectfully to Miss Brown and cast hard glances
at Cole. The woman opened a door, and they
entered the large room with the filing cabinets and
the glass globe, the room in which Cole had been
the night before.
At a desk, with iron-gray head bent over a stack
of papers, sat Grover Carlin. The lawyer looked
up as they entered, and a faint smile flitted across
his rugged face and tempered the cold gleam in his
eyes. “Glad to see you, Mr. Cole,” he said in
neasured tones. “I am also pleasantly surprised.
Your abrupt departure, just after the murder last
night, looked pretty bad.”
“I was rather surprised that you didn’t try to
stop me.”
Carlin grinned apologetically. “No one thought
of doing so until it was too late. Everybody, in-
cluding myself, were stricken senseless by the mur-
der. We couldn't realize that such a thing had
happened right here in our midst. It seemed un-
believable. All we could think was that you
Were 23
“In cahoots with the murderer,” suggested Cole
when the lawyer paused. “Well, I admit it looked
strange. That murder was about as nervy a piece
of rascality as I ever heard of. The fellow came
here determined to carry out his purpose or die
in the attempt. Doesn't his reckless audacity and
the ease with which he got into your establishment
suggest something to your mind, Mr. Carlin P”
“Oh, yes a number of things. It suggests that
he had powerful influences behind him. The mo-
tive isn't far to seek. The men responsible for


I64 THE UNKNOWN SEVEN
the murder feared that Reeves might recover from
the effects of the operation and divulge certain facts
which would be to their detriment. They decided
to prevent that by silencing him forever.”
“What else?” asked Cole, eying the lawyer
steadily.
Carlin gave him a quizzical glance.
“How do you suppose the fellow got in P’’ Cole
went on. “Where did he get the duplicate key
to the elevator door? How did he get hold of the
combination that controls the mechanism? Who
told him how to get through the wall? How do
you explain that, after entering, he walked straight
to the room where Reeves was: As you probably
remember, we heard the cry only a few moments
after the green light had flashed, showing that the
murderer knew his way thoroughly.”
Carlin gazed at him hard and long. “Well?”
he asked at length.
“Perhaps you still suspect me?” asked Cole lightly.
“No.” The word came a little uncertainly. “I
never really suspected you. I only had certain
doubts about you, doubts which were natural under
the circumstances. Your return here this afternoon
speaks volumes. You would scarcely have come
back if you had been playing us false. I feel I
owe you an apology.”
“It’s accepted,” said Cole with a laugh. “But
apologies aren't going to remedy matters. Mr.
Carlin, there's a traitor among you.”
Miss Brown, seated near by, caught her breath.
The lawyer thrust his head forward a little. “Im-
possible,” he said. “There was a traitor among


COLE'S RUSE 165
us, as I explained to you, but we got rid of him.
For all I know he may be dead by this time. I
am ready to swear to the reliability of every man on
our staff.”
Cole seemed inclined to argue the point, but he
desisted. His eyes twinkled a little, and he looked
as though he were content to let developments prove
the truth of what he had said.
“There is one thing you haven't explained, Mr.
Cole,” said Miss Brown. “I am curious to know
how you got into the elevator a little while ago.
Where did you get the key?”
“Oh, the key,” said Cole lightly. “Why, I
found it in the murderer's pocket.”
Carlin and Miss Brown looked at him in speech-
less astonishment.
“I seem to be telling things backward,” Cole
went on. “After I left here early this morning
I gave the fellow a chase and caught him. He's
a hunchbacked, dried-up wisp of a man, and as
evil looking a specimen of humanity as I ever saw.”
Carlin blinked his eyes bewilderedly and looked
at Cole, as if he had just discovered some new
quality in him.
“And you—you caught him?” asked Miss Brown.
“Where—how P”
Cole explained, but only very briefly. There was
a gleam of sly humor in his eye. Toward the
end of his recital he did a strange thing. He
finished it off with an embellishing touch that was
not in strict accordance with the truth.
“The best part of it all,” he said in casual tones,
“is that I have the fellow's confession in black


I68 THE UNKNOWN SEVEN
he was entering a different world. This part of the
establishment was given over to clubrooms, but
they were more magnificent than any Cole had ever
seen. There was a well-appointed gymnasium; a
swimming pool in which clear water gleamed in-
vitingly in a huge tank of marble; a library con-
taining all the latest fiction and belles-lettres; a
dining room, an art gallery, a pool and billiard par-
lor, and various cozy little nooks for the members.
“You see, Mr. Cole, we believe in combining
pleasure and comfort with work,” explained Carlin,
when the tour of inspection was finished and they
were back in the office from which they had started.
“By the way, dinner will be served at six-thirty.
You must stay and dine with us.”
Cole agreed after a moment's hesitation. His
glance fell on the telephone at Carlin's desk, and
suddenly he seemed to remember something.
“Perhaps you would like to use the telephone,”
the lawyer suggested. “The switchboard is in an
office on the tenth floor, and all incoming and
outgoing calls are relayed through it. No chance
of a call being traced, you see.”
Cole picked up the telephone and gave the op-
erator the number of his landlady. Carlin and Miss
Brown started to withdraw, but Cole assured them
there was nothing personal about the call and
asked them to stay.
“That you, Mrs. Armstrong?” he asked when
he had got his connection. “Mr. Cole speaking. I
may not be home till late this evening, and I won-
der if you'd mind running up and giving Toots
her milk. Yes, Toots—T-o-o-t-s. The cat, yod


COLE'S RUSE I69
know. Very good of you. Will you do it right
away, Mrs. Armstrong? I'll hold the wire till you
come back. Toots wasn't looking well this morn-
ing. Acted as if she had a headache or something.
I'm anxious to know how she is.”
With the receiver at his ear, Cole waited. Carlin
stroked his chin reflectively. From time to time
he gazed in an odd way at the man who was to
direct the activities of The Unknown Seven, and
whose sole concern just now appeared to be an
ailing cat. Miss Brown was amused and took no
pains to conceal it.
Cole was kept waiting a long time. At last he
pricked up his ears in a startled way, as if some
surprising news was being told him. He uttered
a few short exclamations, then hung up the receiver
and glanced at his watch.
“Mr. Carlin,” he said gravely, in a tone so low
that the other two could scarcely hear, “two hours
ago I sat in this chair and told you a lie.” He
made a silencing signal with his hand as Miss
Brown and Carlin started to interrupt. “Yes, a
lie. What I said about having wrung a confes-
sion from the hunchback wasn’t true, though all
the rest was in strict accordance with the facts.
As you may remember, I mentioned having put
the confession in a safe place. From that you
might have inferred that I had hidden it at my
home, or placed it in a safe-deposit box.”
He was speaking in whispers, as if afraid that
an eavesdropper might be lurking somewhere in
the room. The faces of his two listeners showed
stark bewilderment.


CHAPTER XV
THE TRAITOR UNIMASKED
ITH his fingers across his lips, Cole enjoined
silence. His glance darted quickly over the
floor, the ceiling and the walls. He moved hither
and thither, looking behind desks and filing cases.
Finally he stepped behind Carlin's desk and gazed
speculatively at a panel of grille work in the wall.
He held his hand before it and felt a strong draft
of fresh air. It was obviously a ventilating shaft,
and the force of the current suggested that air was
driven into it by fans.
He whirled round and whispered to Carlin and
the girl. “Talk,” he said, “talk on any subject but
the one you're thinking on. Be as natural as you
can.”
Carlin showed plainly that he did not under-
stand, but he nodded obediently. Cole tiptoed to a
typewriter desk in the rear, and in one of the
drawers he found a box containing a number of
small tools. Selecting a screw driver, he went
back to the air shaft and loosened several of the
screws that held the grilled panel. In a few mo-
ments he could bend it outward, and now he in-
serted his hand and ran it up and down the sides
of the shaft.
“Any more of that sauterne left?” he heard Car-
lin ask the girl.
“About a dozen bottles, I think.”


172 THE UNKNOWN SEVEN
“We’ll instruct the chef to have it served after
the fish course. Just to celebrate the occasion, you
know. Afterwar 23
The lawyer ran on with the dogged air of a
soldier obeying orders that he doesn't understand;
but Cole heard no more. A sudden tensing of his
body hinted that he had verified a suspicion. He
had found a small metal disk attached to the
opposite side of the air shaft, and to it was affixed
a wire that extended upward. A serio-comic smile
twisted his lips as he rejoined Carlin and Miss
Brown. “Guess what I found,” he said in a whis-
per. -
The other two stared.
“An amplifying disk and a wire that seems to
run out on the roof. A dictaphone in other words.
There may be others scattered throughout the place.
My little ruse has shown that these walls have ears.”
The lawyer was too astounded for words. Miss
Brown looked fixedly at Cole, her lips trembling a
little at the corners.
“Did I hear you say something about sauterne?”
asked Cole in his usual speaking voice, at the same
time motioning them to step farther away from the
shaft in which the disk was hidden. “Favorite drink
of mine, though I take only an occasional drop of
such things.” Again he lowered his voice. “To-
night I shall get out on the roof and see where
the wire runs to. Carlin, this is additional proof
that there is a renegade in our midst. The man
who posted the hunchback on how to get in here
probably installed the dictaphone. It isn't safe for
us to make a single move until we have singled


THE TRAITOR. UNMASKED I73
him out and rendered him harmless. We must at-
tend to that even before we consider what is to be
done with the body of Reeves.”
Carlin still seemed a trifle dazed. “You are
right, of course,” he said. “We must get rid of
the blackguard at once. It is startling to think
that any one in our organization may be the traitor.
How are we going to find him?”
“Leave that to me.” Cole's narrowing gaze
slanted upward, as if his thoughts were on the
track of an idea. “I have noticed that a man
of that kind nearly always has a flaw in him of
some sort. Generally that flaw is cowardice. That
gives us an advantage over him, right at the start.
We'll play on his cowardice and make him betray
himself.”
The lawyer looked somewhat dubious. “How?”
he asked.
“I haven't studied out the details yet,” said Cole,
but the slow twinkle in his eye told that the idea
was assuming shape. “You sowed the seed of a
plan in my mind when you mentioned sauterne.
But don't expect anything spectacular. Sometimes
simple measures work best. Can you arrange to
have the whole organization here for dinner?”
The lawyer fingered his chin in a bewildered way.
“It could be managed. Most of them have planned
to attend, anyway.”
“Splendid! Now, Carlin, since I am to take
charge of the work here, it would seem only fitting
that everybody should drink my health in sauterne,
wouldn’t it?”
“Cer—certainly,” stammered Carlin.


176 THE UNKNOWN SEVEN
Cole lowered his voice several octaves, “I see the
wineglasses haven’t been placed yet. Don't you
think you had better speak to the chef about the
Sauterne?”
She gave him a puzzled look, then a roguish
smile illuminated her face. “I’m beginning to think
the sauterne is the chief ingredient in that brilliant
idea of yours,” she declared, as she left the room.
A few moments later Cole followed, turning to-
ward the laboratory which Carlin had so proudly
shown him. At one wall were several shelves on
which bottles were placed in long rows. After
studying the labels, Cole selected one of the bottles
and put it in his pocket.
Miss Brownell was supervising the placing of the
wineglasses when he returned to the dining room.
He stood aside and watched silently until the task
was finished and the waiter had left the room. Then
he took the bottle from his pocket and stepped to
the table.
“Please guard the door,” he told Miss Brownell,
speaking in very low tones. “If any one wants to
enter, keep him out on any pretext you like.”
She watched him in astonishment while he went
to work. The bottle contained a colorless liquid,
and with great care he poured a few drops into
each wineglass.
“Are you going to poison us?” she asked. There
was a secretive air about Cole that seemed to
prohibit talking aloud.
“No, the stuff's harmless. Nothing but spirits
of hartshorn. It will mix with the wine, but only
a person with a very sensitive tongue will notice


THE TRAITOR. UNMASKED I77
the queer taste. Such a person, if there should be
one among us this evening, will notice that the wine
has an odd flavor, but that's all. He won't be able
to identify the added ingredient. The quantity is
too slight.” -
“That makes everything very clear of course,”
remarked Miss Brownell. “About as clear as mud.”
Cole went calmly on with his work. “I suppose
it has often occurred to you, Miss Brownell, that
the imagination is a great aid to one's senses.
Tell a person there's a fire in the next room, and
he will instantly smell smoke, even though he may
not have noticed it before.”
“I don't see what that has to do with what
you are doing.”
“A very great deal. When these glasses have
been filled with wine, a person, taking a casual
sip of the concoction, will not notice the queer
taste. If he is told, after the second or third
sip, that he has drunk poisoned wine, the peculiar
taste will become noticeable at once. Without stop-
ping to try to identify the queer flavor, he will in-
stantly become convinced that he has been poisoned,
especially if the circumstances are such that he al-
ready has reason to fear that some such thing is
going to happen to him. That's what imagination
does to a person.”
“Is this some kind of psychological experiment?”
“In a way.” Cole had reached the last glass
and was now putting the bottle in his pocket. “In-
cidentally it is interesting to note that a person
with an uneasy conscience always has a lively im-
agination. Not only can he spot real dangers a


THE TRAITOR. UNMASKED I79
Cole experienced that indescribable something that
comes from contact with a man of strong per-
sonal magnetism. Ballinger's grip could not have
been called energetic, but it transmitted a subtle
electric current.
“You are tackling a man-size job,” remarked
the doctor after Carlin had withdrawn. “You will
have a chance to match your wits against the in-
fernal cleverness of the astutest rogue in the coun-
try. I suppose Carlin has explained the situation
to you?”
“He has only given me a few hints. There
hasn't been time for detailed explanations. All
I know is that a colossal project of some sort is
on foot, and that The Unknown Seven is trying
to put a crimp in it.”
Ballinger took his arm and led him to the smok-
ing room. He extended his cigar case, and Cole
noticed that his fingers were long, slim, and finely
tapering, the fingers of one having a deft touch, a
strong imagination, and a lively dramatic instinct.
Again Cole saw that Ballinger's resemblance to
Doctor Latham was very slight, extending only to
outward physique. It was the disguise, and the
black beard in particular that had produced the
likeness.
“Too bad about poor Reeves,” murmured Bal-
linger, as he held a lighted match in his cupped
hands. “His life, however, would have been only
a burden to himself and others, so in one sense it
is just as well that he was shuffled off. For pro-
fessional reasons I regret his death very keenly.
I had hopes of being able to restore his brain to


18O THE UNKNOWN SEVEN
some degree of normal functioning. If I had suc-
ceeded I think he would have told us a most in-
teresting story, and that, of course, was just what
the other side feared. However, his actions told
us a great deal the other night.”
“When he seemed to recognize Doctor Latham
in you?”
“Exactly. To that extent the experiment was a
complete success. It was Carlin's idea, and the
credit belongs to him. I merely carried out his
suggestions, and I didn't particularly relish the
task.” He chuckled apologetically. “Well, the mur-
der of Reeves is additional proof of the fact that
we are fighting a crowd of very ingenious and
utterly conscienceless scoundrels. Evidently they are
directed by a master mind, a genius of the kind
we often read about, but seldom meet. You will
admit there's a great deal of fascination about a
rascal of that type, Cole?”
Cole did not answer, but he remembered the mag-
netic tug he had felt in Doctor Latham's presence.
“I almost envy you the exciting times you will
have tracking this master mind to his lair,” Bal-
linger went on. “We know some of the smaller
fry in the crowd, Professor Carmody, for instance,
but our efforts won't lead anywhere until we have
found the directing genius. And when we have
found him, Cole, we will be face to face with an
interesting character. Brilliant, resourceful, un-
scrupulous, and full of bewildering subtleties, the
kind that kills without hesitation the moment his
plans are interfered with. I dare say you have
already suspected who he is?”


THE TRAITOR. UNMASKED I8I
Ballinger's eyes shone with a fine glow of en-
thusiasm, but it was the unimpassioned enthusiasm
of a scientist who dissects and analyzes.
“Perhaps,” said Cole guardedly. “Haven't you?”
Ballinger smiled queerly, but the opening of the
door and the announcement that dinner was served
forestalled a reply. In the corridor they were
parted by a stream of people, and Cole found an
opportunity to speak a few words in Carlin's ear.
The lawyer nodded bewilderedly, like one receiving
instructions which he does not understand. He
knew Cole had a plan of some sort, but he could
not make even a guess as to what it was.
There were some twenty-five or thirty at the
table. Cole found himself seated between Miss
Brownell and Carlin. Inwardly he felt a tingling
sensation, as he contemplated the bombshell he was
about to explode among the diners, but his face
showed no sign of it. Now and then he stole a
glance down the two wings of the table. He liked
the faces of the men with whom he was to work.
They were an alert, keen-eyed lot, the kind of men
Cole himself would have selected.
“You are a judge of faces,” whispered Miss
Brownell, leaning slightly toward him. “Who is the
traitor?” -
Cole shook his head. That very question had
already occurred to him. There was not one in
the gathering who by his looks could be singled
out as the traitor.
“Whom would you pick?” he whispered back.
Her glance ran quickly up and down the table.
He could see that her woman's intuition was at


THE TRAITOR. UNMASKED 183
he thanked them for the ovation, and then he
veered sharply to the subject uppermost in his mind.
“I wonder,” he said, “how many of you can look
me straight in the eye and tell me that you are
loyal to this organization.”
A breathless hush followed. His very quiet tones
had created a profound impression. In the next
instant every pair of eyes in the room was leveled
at him without wavering.
“It seems to be unanimous,” he observed dryly.
“One can lie, however, with his eyes as well as
with his tongue, and I know that one among yout
is a liar.”
Another period of silence followed, and then
came a scraping of feet and exclamations of in-
credulity. Cole held up a silencing hand. His
eyes were everywhere, noting each shifting expres-
sion in the startled faces before him.
“One of you has proven false to the organiza-
tion,” he declared in short-clipped accents. “I dis-
covered it only a little while ago. I found positive
proof, not only of the treachery, but of the traitor's
identity as well. He is at this table. He was one
of those who only a few moments ago looked me
straight in the eyes. What shall we do with him?”
Once more came an electric hush. Cole had
spoken quietly, but with an emphasis that carried
conviction. He smiled faintly, as he met the
startled glances of the diners. A slight trace of
the foreign substance in the wine was still lingering
on his tongue.
“What shall we do with him?” he asked again.
“There's only one thing to do with a traitor,”


184 THE UNKNOWN SEVEN
muttered some one at the farther end of the table,
and the suggestion was followed by a chorus of
approval.
“And that thing has already been done,” declared
Cole with grim emphasis. “So that it may serve as
a warning to others who may be tempted to betray
us, the traitor will die right before our eyes. In-
side one minute the poison that was put into his
glass will begin to take effect.”
Cole pretended to look at his watch, but his
glance was gliding swiftly over the two long rows
of faces. He had spoken rapidly, and yet with a
quiet insistence, putting his astounding announce-
ment into the fewest possible words. The effect
he hoped to produce depended upon a quick assault
on the guilty person's mental faculties, shocking
him off his balance before he had time to digest
the statement. In the acute tension of the mo-
ment, the vague impression that he had received
while sipping his wine would suddenly crystallize,
and then, with the fear of death upon him, he could
not help betraying himself.
At least such was the psychological effect Cole
had intended, and he had been reasonably sure that
the test would succeed. Moments passed while he
stood, watch in hand, glancing out of the tail of
an eye at the faces around the table. Sixty seconds
passed, and a look of diffidence crossed his features.
Here and there an impatient mutter was heard.
Carlin was looking up at him with an expression
of thinly veiled disappointment. At length Cole
snapped the watch shut. He smiled rather sheep-
ishly.


THE TRAITOR. UNMASKED 185
“The trick didn't work,” he said disgustedly.
“Yes, I might as well admit it was only a trick.
The traitor was too clever to betray himself.” With
that he sat down, well aware that he had made
an unfavorable impression.
“It was too thin, Cole,” whispered Carlin in his
ear. “Too bad you didn't consult me beforehand.”
Cole nodded dejectedly. Then he felt Miss
Brownell's gaze on his face. He turned and saw a
knowing twinkle in her eyes.
“It was very clever, Mr. Cole,” she whispered.
But for all that her face indicated she might have
given him only a consoling platitude. “You saw,
of course?”
“Yes, I saw enough.” The sheepish grin still
Jingered on Cole's lips. “And you guessed right.
The traitor is sitting near the center of the left
wing of the table. Doctor Ballinger is a very
astute rascal. It took him only a fraction of a
second to see through my little bluff. He is smiling
behind his palm this very moment. We'll just
let him keep on smiling for a while, eh, Miss
Brownell ?” -


CHAPTER XVI
GOLD
FTER dinner Cole looked the picture of a man
whose faith in himself has received a stagger-
ing blow. He seemed to take the outcome of his
ruse very much to heart. He moved gloomily
among the members of the organization, getting
personally acquainted with a number of the men
on his staff, and all the while he appeared to be
making valiant, but not very successful, efforts to
shake off his depression. Carlin did his best to
gloss over the apparent frustration of the scheme,
but Cole proved a hard man to console.
Doctor Ballinger approached him after he had
retired into a corner, and gave him a vigorous slap
on the shoulder. “Don’t take it so hard, old man,”
he said cheerily. “Know just exactly how you feel.
It's embarrassing to turn up a flivver right at the
start, but don't you mind. Better luck next time.
Have a smoke.”
“Thanks,” said Cole dejectedly, as he helped him-
self to a cigar from the doctor's case. “What hurts
me most is that I know I was right. Nothing is so
humiliating to a man as to be sure of his facts
and not be able to prove them. I know positively
that there's a black sheep in this fold. If I had
worked the scheme properly 92
“Tut, tut!” interrupted Ballinger. “Your scheme
was all right in principle. You were simply out


GOLD 187
of luck, that's all. The traitor, if you're right in
the assumption that there is such a creature among
us, is probably a very slick customer. No doubt
you had him scared stiff for a moment, but his
emotional reaction didn't last long enough for him
to betray himself. He assumed that you were only
bluffing. At any rate he saw that, having already
drained his glass, nothing could be gained by making
a show of himself. In other words his mind out-
stripped his emotions, and that's where your psy-
chology fell down. No matter! You'll get him
next time.”
Cole walked away, a faint twitching at the cor-
ners of his lips. In the main Doctor Ballinger's
analysis had been correct. He had only forgotten
to mention one little detail. Just as the traitor's
mind had outstripped his emotions, so had Cole's
alert glance outstripped both. For just an instant
Ballinger had shown all the symptoms of acute
terror. He had shaken them off with superb self-
control, but not before Cole's eye had registered
his momentary confusion.
The revelation that Ballinger was the traitor had
given Cole a shock at first. The doctor was one
of the last men in the organization whom he would
have suspected of treachery. Having found him
out, Cole saw no reason for apprising the doctor
of the fact. He preferred to let Ballinger lull him-
self into a false security until he should show his
hand more plainly. Neither did it seem advisable
to Cole to take the other members into his con-
fidence in regard to his discovery. It would be hard
to keep a secret among so many, and the more hot-


GOLD 189
Sambo, I want you to find Mr. McKendrick and
ask him to come here at once.”
“Yas, sah.” With a profound bow Sambo wad-
dled out.
McKendrick, one of the young operatives with
whom Cole had chatted since the dinner, appeared
after a brief wait. He had a clear eye, a whimsical
expression about the mouth that had appealed to
Cole on first sight, and a firmly molded chin.
“Go into the main office,” Cole directed. “You
will find a dictaphone in the ventilator shaft. The
wire apparently runs out on the roof. Trace it to
the other end, then report to me.”
“Very well, sir.” As McKendrick walked out,
Cole noticed with approval the easy swing to his
shoulders. Once more he touched the nearest but-
ton, and Sambo appeared almost instantly.
“Find Sloane and tell him I want him,” Cole
directed.
Sloane entered in a few moments. With his keen
intellectual features and shell-rimmed spectacles he
looked a good deal like a college professor.
“Sloane,” began Cole, “I want you to go to the
block in which Doctor Latham resides. Some-
where in the neighborhood, in a basement entrance
across the street, perhaps, you'll find a young chap
of dilapidated appearance who answers to the name
of Tony Pinto. He's been watching the doctor's
house for the past twenty-four hours and must be
sadly in need of food and sleep. Tell him I have
sent you to relieve him.”
“I understand perfectly, sir.”
Cole gave him a few more instructions, and then


190 THE UNKNOWN SEVEN
Sloane withdrew. Again Cole pressed the button,
this time to summon a man whom he instructed
to make a thorough search all over the establish-
ment for hidden disks and wires. When the man
had gone, Cole leaned back in his chair and pon-
dered. He had set the machinery in motion, but the
hardest task he had reserved for himself. Some-
thing had to be done very soon about the body
of Reeves. What to do with it was a problem that
would demand all his resourcefulness. Too, a
watch must be kept over Doctor Ballinger, and
Cole did not like to delegate that business to any
one else. He expected to learn a great deal from
the unsuspecting doctor's movements during the next
twenty-four hours.
He was deep in thought when a knock sounded
on the door. In response to his rather brusque
“Come in,” Miss Brownell entered.
“I’ve been thinking,” she announced.
“So I see,” said Cole, placing a chair for her.
Miss Brownell, he observed, was one of the few
women whom he had met who could wear a
thoughtful frown becomingly. Where another
woman's forehead would have wrinkled, hers merely
rippled.
“You have been doing a lot of thinking your-
self,” she remarked, regarding him with that curi-
ous impersonal glance of hers.
“Yes, but mostly in the dark,” Cole admitted.
“I’m pretty much in the same fix as the man who
walks into a theater in the middle of the second
act. The only thing that's clear so far is that the
principal actors in this drama seem to be doctors.”


GOLD I91
“You refer to Latham and Ballinger, of course.
There is still another doctor involved.”
“Still another? Who is he?”
“In a sense he is the real instigator of the plot,
although he died one hundred and thirty-eight years
ago.”
Cole blinked bewilderedly. “Sounds rather
ghostly.”
“His name was James Price, an English physi-
cian of high repute, who discovered a method of
transforming baser metals into gold. You can
read up on him in history or the biographical en-
cyclopedias, if you like. He wrote a book entitled
“An Account of Some Experiments,’ but it has been
out of print a long time and copies are hard to
obtain. Professor Carmody owns one of the few
still in existence.”
“Oh!” said Cole, elevating his brows. “So that's
what the mystery is about? But you don't mean
to tell me that sane men like Latham and Ballinger
are dabbling in the exploded myth of alchemy?”
“I do. And that myth, by the way, seems to
die very hard, Mr. Cole. Its been exploded and
reéxploded since the dawn of history, and yet it
keeps bobbing up every now and then.”
Cole gave a little impatient shrug. “It’s rub-
bish,” he declared. “I have managed to forget
most of the things I learned at school, but I seem
to recall that modern science has absolutely estab-
lished the fact that one element cannot be trans-
formed into another.”
She looked at him amusedly. “We women always
smile when you men speak of absolute facts. The


192 THE UNKNOWN SEVEN
phrase is so delightfully characteristic of the sterner
sex. And the world has moved since you went to
school, Mr. Cole. Science has hedged and quibbled
and reversed itself a good many times on the sub-
ject of the transformation of metals. It wasn’t
so very long ago that some one discovered that
radium can be produced from helium, or was it the
other way round? Anyway, right there is an in-
stance of the transformation of one element into
another.”
Cole opened his lips to speak, but seemed unable
to find the right words.
“I was telling you about James Price,” Miss
Brownell went on. “He claimed to have discovered
a method whereby he could transform sixty parts
of mercury into one part of gold. He was rather
secretive about his discovery and hedged it about
with a lot of mystic hocus-pocus. About all that is
definitely known is that a mysterious red powder
figured prominently in the process. The red powder
was mixed with mercury and fluid borax, and the
concoction was then put in a crucible and stirred
with an iron rod. The result was gold.”
“The iron rod must have been a magic scepter,”
suggested Cole dryly.
“Perhaps; anyway the Royal Society of England
got interested in Price's experiments and made an
investigation. A committee of England's foremost
scientists went to his laboratory, firmly expecting
to expose Price as a faker or lunatic. I can imagine
the long, bewhiskered faces of those learned old
fogies when they put the gold through an assaying


GOLD 193
process and found that it proved genuine in every
respect.”
Cole's pupils dilated a trifle, but he looked still
dubious.
“What I have told you is a matter of history,
amply documented and supported by incontrovertible
evidence,” declared Miss Brownell. “There can be
no doubt but that Price produced a form of gold
that proved genuine on assay. I am now coming to
the strangest part of the story. Having solved
this problem, that has tantalized scientific minds
since the beginning of history, Price turned a sort
of mental somersault. Just what happened to him
has never become definitely known. Some still in-
sist that he was a faker, despite the tests that were
made. Others believe that his mind collapsed under
the strain, and that he went insane. That seems
to be nature's way of punishing those who peep
behind the curtain of the unknown, and Price was
neither the first nor the last to go mad on the
subject of gold. Still others think that gold be-
came an obsession with him, a sort of monomania,
and that he could not endure the thought of sharing
his discovery with others. Then there are those
who cling to the theory that his production of gold
was nothing but an accident.”
“What happened?” asked Cole.
“The committee of scientists wanted to learn
Price's formula and asked him to repeat the ex-
periment in their presence. Price refused on the
pretext that his supply of red powders was ex-
hausted. Shortly afterward he committed suicide
by drinking laurel water. It has been generally


194 THE UNKNOWN SEVEN
supposed that his secret died with him. His book
is somewhat vague in regard to the composition
of the red powders. Repeated attempts have been
made to learn exactly what they consisted of, but
without success. Last year, however, Professor
Carmody returned from abroad after browsing in
the libraries of the Old World for many months.
He brought back with him a number of faded and
forgotten manuscripts, said to be in Doctor Price's
handwriting. Where he found them, and how he
got possession of them we don't know, but we do
know that they gave him a clew to the secret which
Price guarded so jealously.”
“How do you know?” demanded Cole.
“Our organization has eyes and ears everywhere.
However, it was mostly through accident that we
learned what was on foot. I shan’t bore you with
the details. Carmody saw a chance to become
enormously rich by manufacturing gold on a large
scale, using Doctor Price's formula. But he needed
money to swing the enterprise, and so he guardedly
approached a number of wealthy men with a scheme
for multiplying their fortunes many times. Be-
sides he knew that he lacked the executive ability
required to engineer a project of such magnitude.
He talked to Malcolm Reeves so engagingly that
Reeves was smitten with the gold fever and sup-
plied a great portion of the cash that he needed.
No doubt he enlisted the assistance of other rich
men in a similar manner. The lure of gold is a
terrible thing, Mr. Cole.”
“A curse,” said Cole. “But what about Latham?”
“Latham is an extremely clever and very versatile


GOLD I95
man. Though he practices medicine he has dabbled
in various sciences. Perhaps Carmody needed his
assistance in solving some of the problems that he
encountered in working out Price's formula. How-
ever that may be, we know he has been very close
to Professor Carmody for several weeks.”
“Then you think Carmody is the moving spirit
in the enterprise?”
“No; Carmody merely supplied the formula and
his scientific knowledge. He is a small man, physi-
cally and mentally, with a sharp, but narrow, intel-
lect, and he is deficient in the qualities required
to direct an enterprise of this sort. Knowing his
shortcomings, he was willing to put the management
of the project into stronger hands than his own.”
“Latham's, for instance?” asked Cole.
“Or Ballinger's. Both are very shrewd and
energetic men, though I hadn't thought of Ballinger
in that connection until to-night. It is your job
to find the master mind that is directing the op-
erations of this gold-mad crowd, Mr. Cole. We
know that they are already producing gold, or a
substitute for gold, on a very large scale.”
“Where?” inquired Cole quickly.
“That's another thing for you to find out. In
some secluded spot in New York City or its environs
there is a large and fully equipped plant. From
snatches of conversation which we have overheard
we know that it exists, but we haven't been able
to locate it. We also know that the conspirators,
feel confident that their product will stand every
test, that it resembles natural gold in every respect.
In order to eliminate all risk, however, they have


I96 THE UNKNOWN SEVEN
decided to hold the gold in storage until the desired
quantity has been manufactured. You can imagine
what will happen when a golden flood is suddenly
released and poured out over the country.”
“A few men will become enormously rich over
night, and the monetary system will be utterly dis-
organized. I suppose the ultimate result will be the
worst panic the world has ever seen.”
“That's exactly what Mr. Carlin and the others
think,” declared Miss Brownell.
They sat silent for a time, neither looking at
the other. Their minds were stunned by the con-
templation of the golden havoc which their im-
agination pictured. Cole recalled the look of insane
ecstasy which he had seen in Malcolm Reeves' face.
The words, “Pretty yellow,” which the insane man
mumbled, suddenly assumed a vivid significance. He
shook himself a little.
“I suppose Reeves had a falling out with the
others,” he remarked. “That's why they first de-
stroyed his mind and afterward killed him.”
“Presumably.” Her eyes looked a little dim, as
if they had gazed too long upon a dazzling vision.
“It was about Reeves I was thinking just before I
walked in here and disturbed you. I was wonder-
ing why Ballinger didn't commit the murder. He
had free access to the place and nobody had any
suspicions against him. Why was it necessary to
have the hunchback sneak in here and do it?”
“I think the answer to that question is fairly
clear.” Cole's smile seemed to say that women, even
the cleverest of them, were rather simple-minded
at times. “The job had to be done by an outsider


GOLD I97
in order to conceal the fact that the conspirators had
an associate in your midst.”
“But they didn't conceal it. The ease with which
the hunchback got in and out proved clearly that he
was assisted by some one on the inside.”
“That’s so,” admitted Cole, somewhat abashed.
“Well, then it's quite likely that Ballinger balked
at the job. Murder is pretty nasty business. It is
a coarser crime than depriving a man of his rea-
son. Many criminals of the intellectual type shrink
from it.”
“Maybe that was the way of it. There's another
thing that has been troubling me lately. Who do
you think performed the operation on Reeves?”
Cole stared at her for an instant. “It seems to be
pretty well established that Doctor Latham was the
man.”
“Yes, I know that's what they all seem to think.
Their reason is that Reeves seemed to recognize
Ballinger when he was made up to resemble
Latham.”
“It was more than recognition. The sight of
Ballinger made up as Latham fairly terrified the
poor man. I’ll never forget how he looked.”
“But isn’t that a flimsy reason for supposing that
Latham performed the operation?”
Cole leaned out of his chair and regarded her
closely, as if wondering whether her intuition was
once more at work. “Can you imagine any other
explanation for the way Reeves acted that night?”
“Yes; can't you?”
Cole shook his head ponderously.


198 THE UNKNOWN SEVEN
“Just think about it,” she said, smiling faintly;
then she rose and walked out of the room.
For a long time Cole sat very still, with a
thoughtful pucker across his forehead. Once, from
force of habit, he reached for his pipe, frowning
when he realized it wasn't there. Now and then
he bent a quizzical gaze on the chair which Miss
Brownell had vacated.
“What the deuce did she mean?” he mumbled.
“What else is there to-”
With a jerky motion he sat erect in his chair.
He gave the desk in front of him a vigorous thump.
“By Jove, she wins!” he declared. “There is
another explanation. It’s beginning to look as
though ” He checked himself, scowling. “But
that only muddles the situation. What's the good
of an explanation that doesn't explain. But I sup-
pose a woman can't see it that way. They’re all
alike, from Toots down.”
He shrugged as if to banish unprofitable specula-
tions. He suddenly remembered that there had been
weighty things on his mind when Miss Brownell
interrupted his thoughts. He had given several
orders to the men, and he had been studying what
to do with the body of Reeves, and how he might
make the most of his discovery that Doctor Bal-
linger was the traitor. He jumped from the chair
as the physician's name ran through his mind. For
half an hour or more he had given not a single
thought to Ballinger. He hurried from the office
and crossed the corridor, but a glance into the
smoking room reassured him. Ballinger was
sprawled out leisurely in an armchair, evidently in


2OO THE UNKNOWN SEVEN
shape spread out on a cot at the farther side of
the room.
Cole walked up to the cot and looked down at
the dead man. He jerked back a little as his glance
fell on the lifeless face. Then he bent over the
body and gazed fixedly into the rigid features.
Finally he stood up and turned to Carlin, who had
remained behind.
“When did you last see the body?” he inquired,
and his voice sounded a trifle husky.
“Why, I think it was this morning. Yes, that
was it, about ten o'clock this morning. Why do
you ask?”
“Because— But see for yourself.”
With a wondering glance at the detective, Car-
lin crossed the floor. He looked down at the mo–
tionless figure, and suddenly he shrank back a step.
A husky exclamation sounded in his throat, then
he slowly raised his eyes, and for a long moment the
two men stared blankly at each other.
“It-it isn't Reeves!” stammered the lawyer.
“No-it isn't Reeves!” echoed Cole.
*


2O2 THE UNKNOWN SEVEN
temporary hiding place this room served as well as
any other. We must find out whether Ballinger has
been absent from the smoking room during the last
hour or so.”
The lawyer seemed dazed. “But the other body?
What happened to it?”
“You are sure it was here this morning?”
“Positive.”
“Could any one have taken it down the private
elevator without being seen?”
“Impossible. Even if such a thing could be done,
which is unthinkable, it is a ticklish job to trans-
port a body through the streets. It is not yet mid-
night.”
“Is there any other exit?”
“Only the stairs leading to the roof.”
“Then it is a safe bet that the body of Reeves
was taken out that way. From the roof it could
have been slipped down a fire escape in the rear,
and from there—Heaven only knows!”
“But why should such a thing be done? What
object could any one have in doing it?”
“I don't know, Carlin. I can only make a hazy
guess. Being a lawyer you know better than I do
that, with the body missing, it will be hard to
prove the murder of Reeves. I believe the law
covering murder cases provides that, when the cor-
pus delicti cannot be proven, the commission of the
crime must be established by direct, not circum-
stantial, evidence. Isn't that correct?”
“Substantially, yes.”
“And, as I understand it, nobody saw the crime
committed. Consequently there can be no direct


IN ROOM 2512 2O3,
testimony in regard to the murder. It appears that
the men we are fighting are playing a very shrewd
game.”
The lawyer tried to pull himself together. “But
isn't it your idea that the men who instigated the
murder of Reeves are also responsible for McKen-
drick's death P”
“Presumably?”
“Then why, after going to all that trouble to
cover up the first crime, did they leave the evi-
dence of the second murder in plain sight?”
“Looks a bit contradictory, doesn't it?” Cole
squinted abstractedly at the form on the cot. It
seemed as though the murderers of McKendrick,
in placing the body in the identical spot where that
of Reeves had lain, had gone out of their way to
add a spectacular touch to their crime. “But you
may be sure of one thing,” he added. “They had
good reasons for doing what they did. There isn't
any doubt—”
He stopped short, and Carlin gave him a puzzled
look.
“Yes, that must be it,” Cole went on in an under-
tone. “The reason for what they did is to be found
in the one thing that differentiates the murder of
Reeves from that of McKendrick.”
“And what's that?”
“Reeves was operated upon before he was mur-
dered; McKendrick was not.”
Carlin seemed unable to follow this line of rea-
soning.
“If there should be an autopsy,” Cole explained,
“it might be discovered that an atrocious operation


2O4 THE UNKNOWN SEVEN
had been performed on Reeves before his death.
Such an operation could have been performed only
by a skilled surgeon. It would be deducted that
the operation and the murder were perpetrated by
the same parties. That would reduce the range of
suspicion down to one class of individuals, surgeons.
So, you see, the body of Reeves constituted a clew
to the identity of his murderers.”
Carlin gave him an admiring glance. “First
ratel” he applauded. “I’m glad you are doing the
heavy thinking for us.”
“You would have seen it yourself if you hadn't
been upset to-night,” said Cole modestly. “By the
way, it's just as well not to let the news of this
fresh outrage get out among the men at present.
Wish you would show me the stairs to the roof.”
They left the room, and the lawyer locked the
door. A short distance down the corridor they
met Miss Brownell, and Cole recalled that he had
asked her to keep an eye on the physician. Her
lips tightened as he briefly whispered what had hap-
pened.
“Do you know whether Ballinger was absent from
the smoking room for any length of time during
the last hour and a half P” he added.
“He went out for cigars,” said Miss Brownell.
“He explained that his case was empty, and he
smokes only his special brand. When he returned
he accounted for his long absence by saying that
most of the cigar stores in the neighborhood were
closed.”
“That explanation is worthy of the doctor,” said
Cole. “It’s plausible and yet simple. A more in-


2O6 THE UNKNOWN SEVEN
“Wait, Carlin.” Cole took an electric flash light
from his pocket and turned the gleam on the steps.
They looked as if they had not been swept in a
long while. He stooped low to examine a number
of marks in the thick layer of dust. Drawing a
magnifying lens from his pocket and slowly moving
the electric torch up and down, he made a careful
inspection of the lower steps.
“Two sets of footprints,” he declared. “One set
is fairly large and broad-toed, a number nine and
a half shoe, I should say. The other is a size and
a half smaller, also narrower. This tends to show
that McKendrick was followed when he came down
from the roof.”
“Why do you suppose he was permitted to leave
the roof?” inquired the lawyer.
“Because the murderer couldn't aim in the dark.
He wanted to make a sure job of it. Probably
McKendrick didn't know he was followed down
the stairs. Likely as not the shot wasn't fired until
he got down to the main office. It's even possible
the murder wasn't committed until he was out in
the corridor. That would explain why the mur-
derer chose the room at the end of the hall as a
temporary hiding place for the body. If the shoot-
ing took place in the corridor, he had to drag or
carry it only a few steps.”
Cole pocketed his flash and lens, and they started
up the stairs.
“But wouldn't the shot have been heard?” asked
Carlin.
“Not if the weapon was equipped with a silencer.


IN ROOM 2512 2O7
The smell of the burned powder was probably
sucked up very quickly by the automatic ventilators.”
Carlin opened a trapdoor overhead, and they
stepped out on the roof. Up there all was wind
and gloom. Their footsteps creaked dismally against
the gritty surface. All around them loomed the
ghostly shapes of tall buildings. Masses of clouds
hung Scowling over their heads, and there was a
suspicion of moisture in the air.
Cole stepped to the fire escape in the rear, the
lawyer following. They looked down over the
parapet into a wide court flanked by murky walls.
“Yes,” said Carlin, more to himself than to his
companion, “the body of Reeves was probably car-
ried down this fire escape. It could have been
done.”
Cole nodded. “I wonder,” he said abstractedly,
“how far down it was carried?”
“Have you any reason for supposing that it
wasn't carried clear down to the ground?”
“No, only a hunch, and most hunches are ridicu-
lous. They go contrary to facts and logic. But
just now I am more interested in what happened
to McKendrick. He must have discovered some-
thing very important to warrant the scoundrels kill-
ing him. I wonder what it could have been.”
“The other end of the wire, of course.”
“Something more than that, I think.” Cole gazed
down the long stretch of flights and landings that
composed the fire escape. “Criminals of that type
never kill without good cause. Not because they
shrink from murder on moral or humanitarian
grounds, but because it is dangerous and inexpedi-


IN ROOM 2512 209
same door, and then he had turned back in the
belief that nothing could be gained by going farther.
“Bureau of Civic Research,” he read, wondering
whether McKendrick had followed the course of
the wire through this same door. Cole had no par-
ticular reason for thinking so, for at least twenty
other doors opened into the same hall. Yet, in
view of Englebreth's apparent familiarity with
Cole's movements during the past few days, he
could not help wondering. If the dictaphone wire
had extended into suite 2512, then the source of
Englebreth's information was clear.
But the theory explained nothing else, and Cole
had no proof that the wire had entered the office
of the Bureau of Civic Research. His only clew
was the scratches on the window frame, and they
merely indicated that McKendrick had been on this
floor. For all Cole knew, the young operative might
have continued his search farther down. -
Yet the door continued to tantalize him. With a
glance over his shoulder to see if perchance a watch-
man was near, he tried the knob. As he had ex-
pected, the door was locked, but he stooped and
looked closely at the little circle of brass that formed
the outer portion of the spring lock. The hall light
was dim, so he once more took out his electric
flash. Close to the center of the circle, just beside
the keyhole, he saw a slight scratch. It was almost
certain now that McKendrick had picked the lock
and passed through the door.
From his pocket Cole drew a bunch of carefully
selected keys. Soon the door was open, and he
walked in and quickly closed it behind him. Then


2IO THE UNKNOWN SEVEN
he took out his flash, not thinking it safe to turn
on the light, and made a swift inspection of the
premises.
There were two rooms, a larger and a smaller
one. After a glance over the floor and walls, Cole's
face fell. The thing which he had vaguely and
without much reason expected to find was not there.
It was just an ordinary suite of offices, containing
the ordinary set of office furniture. A glance into
the filing cabinets left him in no doubt as to the
bona-fide character of the Bureau of Civic Research.
On one of the desks in the inner office were sev-
eral typewritten letters. At the top of each sheet
were printed the name of the concern and a list of
its officers, and he noticed that Englebreth was men-
tioned as one of the honorary vice presidents. The
letters had, in fact, been dictated by Englebreth, for
in the lower left-hand corner of each one were the
initials HE-MS. No doubt he had dictated them
that afternoon and expected to sign them later. A
glance told Cole that they pertained to political
matters and dealt in detail with the availability of
a certain candidate for alderman.
He put the letters down. They confirmed a the-
ory that he had formed that afternoon that the
Bureau of Civic Research was a hobby of Engle-
breth's. Like many another rich man, his former
client presumably felt the need of justifying his
existence in some way. Cole felt satisfied on that
point, but there were other doubts in his mind. It
was just possible that the rooms of the bureau were
being used clandestinely by persons who were in the
habit of sneaking in there at night. Being close


IN ROOM 2512 2II
to the fire escape they were within easy reach of
the headquarters of The Unknown Seven. The
guess was rather far-fetched, but it seemed to ex-
plain several things.
Knowing that Carlin was waiting for him on the
roof, and seeing that his quest was unavailing, Cole
put out his flash and moved toward the door. He
had advanced only a few steps when something
prompted him to halt. A vague impression that
some one had stopped outside the door came to
him. He tiptoed to a corner of the room and
waited. Presently he heard a key grate in the lock,
and then the door came open. It was beginning to
look as though his suspicions had been correct, that
persons other than the regular tenants were visit-
ing the offices at night.
'A' light appeared in the outer room. Next he
heard some one move across the floor. From his
position, in the corner of the inner office, Cole
could not see who the newcomer was, and he did
not care to make his own presence known just yet.
The footsteps were coming toward him, and Cole
pressed close to the corner, as a figure appeared in
the doorway. The footfalls gave him a queer sen-
sation. He thought he recognized the plopping lit-
tle sounds, suggestive of a walker who, instead of
putting most of his weight on his heels, places his
entire foot on the ground at once.
While still within the doorway the newcomer
reached out a hand and touched a switch on the
inner wall. In the light that suddenly appeared,
Cole saw that he had identified the footfalls accu-
rately. The man was Professor Carmody, and


2I2 THE UNKNOWN SEVEN
Cole's eyes narrowed as he recognized him. The
scientist wore a faded silk hat and a long overcoat,
just as Cole had seen him when he walked into
Doctor Latham's house the day before, and under
his arm he carried a large umbrella. He walked
straight to the middle of the office before he saw
Cole, and then he stopped so abruptly that it seemed
as if his gaunt form would topple over.
“Hello,” he said, staring out of his small, mouse-
colored eyes. His long nose, much too large for
symmetry, was turned up, and his parted lips
showed two rows of yellow teeth. He was plainly
embarrassed, and to conceal the fact he grinned
ostentatiously.
“Good evening, professor,” said Cole, stepping
forward. Though this was their first meeting at
close quarters, he had reason to believe that Car-
mody knew who he was. Miss Brownell, he re-
called, had told him that the professor was well
aware that Cole had been watching him from a
distance for some time.
“Are you connected with the Bureau of Civic
Research, professor?” Cole went on.
“In a way, yes,” said Carmody. He had a very
thin voice that had a habit of rising to a shrill
pitch, or falling to a faint murmur, without regard
to what he was saying. He peered at Cole in an
apologetic way. “I don't believe I've had the pleas-
ure of meeting you before.”
“Don’t you know who I am?”
Carmody wagged his head. “I can’t say that I
do.”
“Too bad, professor. I was in hopes that you


IN ROOM 2512 213
would remember me. One doesn't like to ask favors
of strangers.”
“Favors?” Carmody's face took on a forbid-
ding frown. “You wish to ask a favor of me?”
“Just a slight one. There is a book in your
library that is very hard to obtain, and I am very
anxious to read it. The author is one James
Price.”
The professor looked at him hard and long.
“You are mistaken,” he said finally in a very low
tone. “The author whom you mention is not in
my collection. May I ask what led you to think
that I own the book in question?”
“A little bird told me.”
“You take your information from curious
sources.”
“One has to, sometimes. By the way, professor,
aren't you keeping rather queer office hours? It is,
let me see, a quarter past one.”
“I might ask the same question of yourself.”
“That's so; you might.”
“I might also ask what you are doing here. It
is my impression that you do not belong on the
premises.”
“Hope I am not in the way. Please go ahead
and attend to whatever business brought you here.”
But Carmody seemed in no hurry. Cole could
not know whether it was because he had abundant
leisure on his hands, or because he did not care
to attend to his business in another man's presence,
but it was evident that the professor was not dis-
posed to gratify his curiosity. Now and then his
mousey little eyes moved furtively about the room,


2I4 THE UNKNOWN SEVEN
and once they rested in a designing way on one
of the flat-top desks. Cole, following his glance,
was vaguely puzzled.
“Pardon me, but aren't you trespassing?” inquired
Carmody after a pause.
Cole folded his arms and smiled genially. “You
are not going to order me out, I hope?”
“Suppose I should do that?”
“I would overlook your rudeness and refuse to
take the hint. If you insisted, I might invite you
to try to put me out. If you should make such
an attempt and fail at it, I would suggest calling
the police to your assistance. But I don't think you
will go that far, professor. You might be called
upon to explain your own presence here, and that
would prove embarrassing.”
There was a calculating gleam in Carmody's eyes.
Cole, with a picture in his mind of Carlin waiting
for him impatiently on the roof, was anxious to
bring the interview to a climax. He had no inten-
tion of leaving until he had learned the object of
the professor's visit.
Once more Carmody looked stealthily about the
room, and again his glance rested on the desk.
Cole's lids narrowed, as he perceived that the desk,
which seemed to be the object of the professor's
interest, was the one on which lay Englebreth’s
unfinished letters. There were three other desks
in the room, so it seemed odd that Carmody should
center his attention on this particular one. Cole
had already discovered that the drawers were empty,
and that the desk contained nothing except the
papers lying on top. Strange though it seemed, it


IN ROOM 2512 2I5
looked as though the scientist's visit to the office at
this late hour was in some way concerned with the
letters Englebreth had dictated that afternoon.
The theory seemed rather far-fetched, so Cole
decided to test it. He moved leisurely about the
room a few times, then stopped before the desk at
which the professor's sly glances had been directed.
In a casual manner he picked up the letters, looked
hastily at two or three, then folded them across
the middle and stuck them into his pocket.
He knew, even before the letters reached his
pocket, that his suspicion had been well founded.
Carmody had watched his every move with grow-
ing excitement. His expression had changed from
bewilderment to dismay, and finally his face took
on a look of sullen determination.
“What are you doing with those letters?” he
demanded.
“Taking them home,” said Cole easily, at the
same time moving toward the door.
“Wait!” said the professor sternly.
Cole turned around and watched him with amuse-
ment. “What's the matter?” he asked innocently.
“What are these letters to you?”
“You shall not leave this office with them. Give
them to me at once.”
He reached out a hand, and Cole saw that it
trembled. Evidently he was desperately intent upon
obtaining possession of the letters. Cole was at
a loss to understand, for he knew that the epistles
dealt with political affairs that could be of no vital
concern to a man like the professor.
“Don’t excite yourself,” he said quietly. “There's


216 THE UNKNOWN SEVEN
nothing in these letters that would interest you.
They contain nothing but dry political rot. What
do you care about that sort of thing?”
“Are you going to surrender them?” demanded
Carmody, and the words sounded like an ultimatum.
“I’ll promise to consider it if you will tell me
why you want them.”
The professor regarded him queerly. A look
of bewilderment crossed his sullenly determined
face. His crafty little eyes seemed to be trying to
read Cole's hidden thoughts. “Why pretend you
don't know?” he asked; then, in wheedling tones:
“Come now ! The joke has gone far enough. I
know you are only trying to tease an old man. The
letters, please.”
Cole shook his head. Carmody's very insistence
upon obtaining the letters was reason enough why
Cole should not give them up. Once more he
started for the door, but a sharp “Wait!” inter-
rupted his progress.
Cole turned slowly and looked into the barrel of
a pistol in Carmody's hand.
“My dear friend,” said the professor in his soft-
est, lowest tones, “please do not force me to take
drastic measures. It would grieve me exceedingly
to have to deal harshly with you. The letters,
please!”


218 THE UNKNOWN SEVEN
felt no fear, but neither did he care to throw his
life away needlessly. Once before in the past forty-
eight hours he had looked into the muzzle of a pis-
tol, but that one had been in Doctor Latham's hand.
Jie had laughed then and dared the physician to
shoot, knowing that Latham, whatever other villain-
ies he might be guilty of, was not the type that
can shoot down a defenseless man in cold blood.
He was too proud and high-spirited for that. With
Carmody it was different. The professor was made
of coarser stuff. He was not hampered by consid-
erations of chivalry and fair play. He would shoot
as soon as Cole's back was turned.
And so he restrained the impulse to laugh in
the professor's face and walk away. He preferred
to bide his chance and watch for a sign of waver-
ing in the hand that held the pistol. Growing tired
of waiting, he decided to try a little stratagem that
he had found successful in the past. It was a sim-
ple trick and based on one of the many queer antics
of the human mind.
He looked away from the pistol and began to
gaze fixedly at a point on the opposite wall. Mo-
ments passed and grew into minutes, and still he
stared rigidly, not a muscle in his face moving.
His eyes were slanting upward, at a level of about
a foot and a half above the professor's head. The
latter could not see what he was looking at, for he
dared not turn his head, knowing that Cole would
jump the moment he did so. At first he was mildly
puzzled. Then his face showed signs of bewilder-
ment. His curiosity changed into nervous concern.
By and by he seemed plainly worried. It was


22O THE UNKNOWN SEVEN
“Is there a man on the staff who understands
ciphers?” inquired Cole, taking the lawyer's arm
and hurrying him down from the roof.
“Ciphers? Why, yes. Findlay Abbott is one of
the best cipher experts in the country. What do
you want of him?”
“Find him and send him to my office,” said Cole
hurriedly. Leaving the bewildered lawyer several
paces behind, he ran down the corridor and entered
his office. He had been there only a few moments
when Abbott, a fat and pink-faced little man, trun-
dled in. Behind him walked Carlin. Cole took
the letters from his pocket and handed them to
the expert.
“See if you can make anything out of these,
TAbbott,” he directed. “All I know about them is
that they are so important to one man that he was
ready to shoot me on account of them. They may
be in code.”
Abbott looked as though he relished the task.
He sat down, wiped his spectacles, and fell to work.
In the meantime Cole told the lawyer of the episode
in room 2512.
Carlin's eyes popped as he listened. He glanced
with keen interest at the papers under Abbott's nose.
“You don’t think the Offices of the Bureau of Civic
Research are the headquarters of the gang we are
fighting?”
“No,” said Cole thoughtfully. “In the morn-
ing you might inquire of your agent how long the
bureau has been located there. From what I saw,
though, it looked as though the concern was on the
square. It’s more likely that certain parties are


THE LIGHT IN THE WINDOW. 22I
using the offices as a listening post, because of their
close proximity to this establishment. Knowing
that we are fighting them, those fellows naturally
want to find out how much we know and what our
plans are. I have a strong suspicion that the dicta-
phone wires ran into the rooms below. What do
you make of those letters, Abbott?”
But Abbott was too deeply engrossed in his task
to hear the question. The other two watched him
in silence for a time. His puckered brow told
that the letters presented a knotty problem. Finally
he looked up.
“No code here,” he declared. “These are just
ordinary letters.”
“Sure of that?” demanded Cole sharply.
“As sure as one can be of anything. I'll wager
my salary for the next ten years that these are just
plain letters.”
“Then why did Carmody ” Cole suddenly
gave the desk a resounding thwack. A light of com-
prehension dawned in his eyes. “I take my hat off
to the professor. He is a slick little trickster. He
wanted to get me away from there, having private
business to attend to, and so he pulled the wool over
my eyes and made me think that these letters were
a matter of life or death. Carlin, I'm a boob!”
He bounded from the office, leaving the lawyer
and Abbott to stare at each other. He was angry,
but only with himself. For the crafty professor
he felt an unwilling admiration, but he was also
determined not to let Carmody have the last laugh.
The discovery that Englebreth's letters were genu-
ine had given him a sharp mental jolt. A suspicion


222 THE UNKNOWN SEVEN
had been gradually assuming shape and clarity in
his mind, but the cipher expert's report had uprooted
it completely. All that those letters now meant to
Cole was a wasted hour and a sense of humiliation.
He hurried up to the roof, then down the fire
escape, and soon he stood once more outside the
door of room 2512. Carmody had had ample time
to dispose of whatever business had brought him
there, but it was just possible that he had not yet
left, so Cole entered as quietly as he could. The
moment he closed the door behind him he knew he
was too late. The light that appeared at his touch
on the button revealed two empty rooms.
Cole moved forward, looking sharply over walls
and behind furniture. Perhaps Carmody had acci-
dentally left some clew to his mysterious errand.
It was even possible that Cole might get an inkling
as to the discovery that had cost McKendrick his
life. He searched carefully, but at first with no
results. There were fresh, but very faint, foot-
prints on the floor, and he could easily locate the
spot where he and Carmody had stood, while the
professor was pointing the pistol at him. Which
way had Carmody turned after Cole left the offices?
The footprints reached to the door and then back
into the inner office. Evidently Carmody had locked
himself in before attending to his errand. With
some difficulty Cole traced the faint marks across
the floor, muttering a short exclamation when he
found that they led straight to the safe, standing
in a corner of the room.
Cole had given the safe only a cursory glance
on his previous visit to the office. Carmody's en-


THE LIGHT IN THE WINDOW 223
trance had prevented him from making a more care-
ful examination. Now he saw that the safe was
one of the best and latest makes. There was a look
of freshness about the blue steel surface and the
bright nickel trimmings which suggested it had not
been there long. He remembered that this particu-
lar brand of safe, in addition to its other adver-
tised merits, was supposed to be air-tight and abso-
lutely burglar proof. It seemed rather large for a
concern whose affairs were transacted in two small
rooms, but, perhaps, it had been selected with a
view to growing needs. -
The course of the footprints made it plain that
Carmody's errand had been related to the safe in
Some way, but that was as far as Cole's deductions
reached. Whether the professor had removed some-
thing from the steel box, or put something in, he
had no means of knowing, and the locked door pre-
vented him from gratifying his curiosity on that
point. It did not stop him from exercising his
imagination, however. With a grim nod and a
tightening of the lips he made a guess in regard to
Carmody's business with the safe.
There was nothing more he could do for the
present, so he made his way back to the headquar-
ters of The Unknown Seven. In the hall he met
Carlin.
“Well?” asked the lawyer. “Found out any-
thing?”
“The more I find out about this case the less I
know,” confessed Cole. “All the same, I think I
know what it was McKendrick saw that cost him
his life.”


224 THE UNKNOWN SEVEN
Carlin's brows came up.
“But I’m not going to tell you what it was,”
Cole added quickly. “I may be mistaken, you see,
and I don't propose to jeopardize my reputation
with you. By the way, there's a new safe in num-
ber 2512, as nifty an article of that kind as I ever
saw. Pretty good size, too. Big enough for a man
of your dimensions to sit down in, Carlin.”
“You’re not going to ask me to crawl into it,
I hope?”
“No, nothing like that. I just have a hunch that
in the morning that safe is going to be taken out
of 2512.”
“Anything unusual in that?”
“Nothing at all, and that's just what certain par-
ties are counting on, I think. There are times
when it is expedient to do the unusual thing under
cover of the usual. I want you to detail a man to
see what happens to that safe, Carlin.”
The lawyer nodded, but in the next instant his
eyes opened wide in astonishment. “You don't
think that—”
“As I said before,” Cole interrupted, “I don't care
to risk my reputation on a guess that may prove
unfounded. Seen anything of Ballinger lately?”
“Not for half an hour or so. Been busy in the
main office.”
Cole gave him a keen glance. “What's the mat-
ter, Carlin P You look worried.”
The lawyer forced a smile. “It’s just a-a pre-
monition. I guess that's what you would call it.
I have a feeling that the gang knows we are clos-
ing in around them, and that they are getting ready


226 THE UNKNOWN SEVEN
put one of the men on Ballinger's trail, in case the
physician should go out. Now it seemed evident
that the girl herself had started out to shadow the
doctor. Cole could only hope that her audacity
would not lead her into trouble. His acquaintance
with women had been only casual, and he had an
impression that they either fainted in a crisis, or
else burst into tears. Miss Brownell was, of course,
a variant from the usual type, but just the same—
Cole sat down again. After all, he could no noth-
ing for the present, and Miss Brownell seemed to
have a surprising capacity for taking care of her-
self. He would stay close to the telephone, and, in
due time, she would undoubtedly call him up. He
waited, but the instrument at his side remained tan-
talizingly silent. When at length it shrilled a sum-
mons, he jumped nervously.
But the person calling was not Miss Brownell.
Instead, it was Sloane, the operative whom Cole had
detailed to watch Doctor Latham's residence.
Latham and the hunchback had been far from his
mind for several hours.
“What is it, Sloane?” he asked quietly.
Sloane reported that for the last hour a myste-
rious light had appeared at intervals in one of
the windows of the doctor's house. It might mean
anything or nothing, and Sloane did not know what
to make of it, so he was telephoning in for instruc-
tions.
“Stay where you are,” Cole told him. “I’ll be
with you in a little while.”
For a few moments longer he sat at the desk,
his mind working quickly. It was just possible that


A WARNING 229
be doing, and what did the frequent striking of
matches mean? He waited, uncertain what to do,
but strongly tempted to open the door with one
of his skeleton keys. Moments passed, and he lis-
tened in vain for further repetitions of the scratch-
ing sounds. Instead, he heard what sounded like
a half-suppressed chuckle. Evidently the hunch-
back had found something that pleased him. A
faint tinkle came through the keyhole, followed by
a louder sound, like that of a heavy object being
dragged across the floor. Then silence.
Cole felt in his pockets for his bunch of keys,
but he quickly withdrew his hand and cast a glance
over his shoulders. This time he knew he was not
mistaken. Some one was moving about on the
floor below, but so softly that Cole's keen ears
detected only a faint suspicion of a sound. His
eyes darted to left and right in search of a hiding
place, but the best he could find was the corner back
of the stairway railing. He pressed against the wall
and crouched low.
Some one was coming up the stairs. He was
determined to learn as much as he could before he
made his presence known. The meager light from
the little electric bulb in the ceiling revealed a sweep
of bald cranium, by which he easily identified Doc-
tor Latham. Perhaps he had been awakened by
the hunchback's movements, or perhaps Cole's en-
trance had partly aroused him, and he had just now
become fully awake.
The doctor swept past him without a glance in
his direction and moved straight toward the room
occupied by the hunchback. There he stopped, took


230 THE UNKNOWN SEVEN
a key from his pocket and unlocked the door. He
pushed it open and stood in a listening attitude.
Even from his remote position in the rear of the
hall, he could hear a lusty snoring. It was strange,
since he knew that the hunchback had been wide
awake only a few minutes ago. Evidently the
fellow was up to a ruse of some kind.
Suddenly Latham turned and walked quickly to-
ward the rear. For a moment Cole thought he had
been discovered, but the doctor took only half a
dozen steps down the hall. Standing on the stair-
way railing he removed the electric bulb from its
socket in the ceiling, then entered the hunchback's
room. The hall was now dark, and Cole thought
it safe to come forward. He reached the door
just as a light appeared within. Peeping through
the crack between the door and the jamb he saw
that the physician had attacked the bulb to a wall
fixture. Now he was standing beside the operating
table to which the hunchback had been linked for
the past twenty-four hours, leaning over the motion-
less figure lying on it.
He mumbled something beneath his breath, then
gave the hunchback's shoulder a vigorous shaking.
The snoring stopped. The fellow sat up with diffi-
culty and rubbed his eyes with his free hand.
“You needn't pretend,” said Latham. He was
arrayed in the same dressing gown in which Cole
had seen him once before. “I know you haven’t
been sleeping. Where did you find these matches?”
He pointed to a litter of charred stubs on the
floor. The hunchback eyed him stolidly and
shrugged his misshapen shoulders.


A WARNING 23I
The doctor's glance went to an old battered safe
in a corner of the room. He stepped up to it
and tried the lock.
“Thought you might be tempted to while away
the time by investigating this old safe of mine,” he
declared. “I removed the bulb on purpose, so you
wouldn't make much headway with it. Not that
you would have found much if you had opened it,
only a few papers.”
Again he gazed at the charred fragments scat-
tered over the floor. Cole, looking through the
narrow crack, saw a puzzled frown on his bearded
face. The room was small, and the conglomera-
tion of articles in it suggested it was used in part
for storage purposes. The scattered match stubs
perplexed Cole as much as they did the doctor.
“There might have been a box in one of the
bureau drawers,” muttered the physician. “I sup-
pose that's where you found them. I don’t see,
though, what pleasure you derive from burning up a
lot of matches.”
Cole was watching the hunchback's face. A look
of sly satisfaction lurked in the sallow features
Once the fellow bent a squinting glance on some
object across the floor, but all Cole could see at that
particular point was a dilapidated trunk. His be-
wilderment grew. The scene between the physician
and the hunchback was not exactly what he might
have suspected. He sensed a hidden element in it.
He was aware of a curious strain and tension in
the air.
“I thought I heard you drag the table over the


234 THE UNKNOWN SEVEN
lifted the lid, and the first thing he saw was a pair
of old shoes from which the laces had been re-
moved.
Latham looked at him in surprise. “That trunk
was locked this morning,” he remarked.
“The lock is a very simple one,” Cole observed.
“Even a man with only one arm could pick it
without much trouble. With a supply of matches
!handy, the removal of the electric bulb didn't give
lim much of a handicap. You seem to lead a very
exciting life, doctor.”
The doctor smiled. He felt quite at ease again.
He got up from the chair and strolled over to the
table where the hunchback lay.
“You are really very simple,” he declared. “Didn't
you know that murdering me wouldn't help you out
of your predicament? Why, you would have starved
to death if you had carried out your attempt.”
“Guess again.” The fellow leered insolently.
“My pals woulda found me before long. To-night,
maybe.”
“What's your grudge against the doctor?” inquired
Cole. “Why did you try to kill him?”
“Why don't you ask him?” retorted the hunch-
back, wagging his head in the physician's direction.
“Our friend doesn’t seem very communicative,”
observed Latham. “I don't think he will attempt
any more mischief to-night. Suppose we go down
and sample one of my cigars?”
Cole assented, but not until he had searched the
hunchback and removed a handful of matches. He
believed the doctor knew the motive behind the mur-
derous attempt. There was a fog in his mind, for


A WARNING 235
the scene he had just witnessed did not seem to
harmonize with his previous observations. -
“You are a cool one, doctor,” he remarked when
they were down in the consultation room and the
physician had passed his box of cigars.
“Life hardens one. I sometimes wish I hadn't
lost my emotional susceptibilities. They are the
things that give color and tone to life. Life with-
out thrills is a barren desert.”
Cole suddenly recalled his original errand. He
bent forward and looked the doctor full in the
eyes. “There is one question I want to ask. You
may not be able or willing to answer it. Where is
Miss Brownell ?”
The question acted like an electric shock on the
physician, upsetting his magnificent composure as
nothing else could have done. A suspicion of pallor.
crept up beneath the black beard.
“What about her?” he demanded sharply. “Has
anything happened to her?”
Cole smiled amusedly. “For a man who has lost
his emotional susceptibilities you manage to work
up quite a lot of feeling over a simple question.
You know the lady I am referring to?”
“Why—er—slightly.”
Cole gave him a hard, searching glance. He
felt the doctor had deliberately understated the truth.
“Miss Brownell disappeared this evening,” he an-
nounced. “I came here in the hope of learning
something of her whereabouts from you.”
“Why from me?” Latham was laboring under a
tension that he tried hard to suppress.
“Several trails seem to point in your direction,


238 THE UNKNOWN SEVEN
the words. “Do you know the leader of the or-
ganization?” was his next question.
“He was never referred to by name in my pres-
ence, and I never came in contact with him. In
my dealings with the members I never got higher
than Professor Carmody.”
Again, despite the contradictions and discrepan-
cies that hemmed in the doctor's statements, Cole
was disposed to believe him. “There is no cause
for alarm just at present,” he declared. “We don't
know that Miss Brownell is in trouble. She is a
capable young woman and yy
“Ah, but you don't know Ballinger,” interrupted
Latham.
Cole reached for the telephone and called the
number of The Unknown Seven. After a brief
delay he was connected with Carlin.
“Where are you?” demanded the lawyer excitedly.
“Been trying to get hold of you everywhere.”
“What has happened?” asked Cole evenly, though
the lawyer's agitation was contagious.
“Happened!” echoed Carlin. “Received an
anonymous telephone message a while ago warning
us that, unless we keep hands off, Miss Brownell
will be dead inside twenty-four hours!”


CHAPTER XX
THE VENEER OF INTELLIGENCE
HE doctor's face betrayed his anxiety, as Cole
repeated what he had just heard over the tele-
phone. -
“That settles it,” muttered the physician. “We
must find Miss Brownell at once.”
Cole nodded. For several minutes he had been
watching the physician closely. It was as if a veil
had been removed from one phase of Latham's
many-sided character. Cole looked through the
contradictions of his personality, and he knew that
on one point, at least, the doctor was sincere. That
was in his attitude toward Miss Brownell.
“There's no hurry,” he said calmly. “Nothing is
going to happen to her for twenty-four hours.”
“But why delay?”
* “Because we can do nothing else. Another rea-
son is that I need sleep. The third reason is
Toots.”
“Toots?” Lathem frowned. “Who is Toots?”
“The most distracted cat in the State of New
York at the present moment. My rooms were in-
vaded by prowlers this afternoon, everything thrown
helter-skelter, and Toots just can't bear fuss of any
kind. She is a very temperamental cat, doctor.
You will hear from me in the morning.”
He left the scowling physician and walked toward
the door. There he stopped and looked back.


240 THE UNKNOWN SEVEN
“Don’t worry,” he said. “We will see Miss Brownell
out of this. There's something of a plan buzzing
around in my mind. So long, doctor.”
Cole walked out. Despite his cheerful tone he
was not altogether free from worry. The situation,
as far as Miss Brownell was concerned, looked
critical enough. With the fate of Reeves and Mc-
Kendrick in mind, Cole knew the gang would not
stop short of murder, if it suited their plans. The
hope he had tried to instill in Doctor Latham was
based on the advantages which he held over the
other side. So far Ballinger did not know that he
was being suspected, and this was an important point
in Cole's favor. A man who thinks himself safe is
apt to make blunders and become incautious. An-
other advantage lay in the fact that the con-
spirator's knew nothing of the deductions Cole had
made from Carmody's visit to the offices of the
Bureau of Civic Research, or of his suspicions in
regard to the big safe standing there.
Cole went home, noticed with approval that Mrs.
Armstrong had tidied up his rooms, and that Toots
was sleeping tranquilly on her favorite cushion.
In a few minutes Cole himself was sound asleep.
Five hours he slept, and then he awoke clear-eyed
and vigorous. After feeding Toots and getting his
own breakfast, he went to the Offices of The Un-
known Seven. On his desk he found a note from
Carlin announcing that the lawyer had, in accord-
ance with Cole’s instructions, detailed one of the
operatives to watch room 25I2 and report at once
if the safe should be taken out.
Cole crumpled the note in his fist. It was yet


246 THE UNKNOWN SEVEN
“Any news of Miss Brownell?”
“Not a word, doctor. Are you in the mood for
a little excitement?”
The physician said nothing, but his smile and
the squaring of his shoulders spoke more loudly
than words. Cole glanced out over the horizon.
A frieze of clouds was creeping up in the south,
and a rising wind rippled the water.
“I suppose you are armed?” he asked after a
while.
The doctor slapped his hip pocket significantly
“Are we likely to have a scrap?” he inquired in a
tone hinting that the prospect appealed to him
hugely.
“Quite likely! The rats are scenting danger and
crawling into their hole. We may have to tackle a
whole nest of them.”
The afternoon waned and still they waited. Dark-
ness fell, and a spanking breeze blew up. At Cole's
suggestion the doctor moved the motor boat a little
closer to the larger craft.
“They are hoisting the sail,” observed Latham,
as he brought the boat to a stop at a point from
which they could watch the yacht without danger
of being seen by its crew. Here and there the
black ribbon of water was broken by twinkling
lights. An excursion steamer swept majestically up
the Hudson, with a tail of foaming silver in its
wake.
Presently the yacht moved. The two men in the
motor boat waited a while to give it headway. Then
the doctor flipped the wheel, and, with a gleeful
phut-phut, the little boat darted forward. Like an


THE VENEER OF INTELLIGENCE 247
animated thing it skipped giddily across the water,
darting in and out among larger vessels. After a
little the sprinkling of boats thinned out, and they
hugged the shore closely, in order to avoid being
seen by the yacht's crew.
“Think you can keep her in sight, doctor?” asked
Cole, noticing with concern that the larger boat
was gaining speed. -
“Easily,” said the doctor confidently, “unless the
motor should start missing, and there's little danger
of that.”
They were silent for a time. Cole, sitting close
by, watched the intent look on the doctor's face
as he guided the boat along the curving river bank.
The shore line grew more rugged; here and there
earth and sky melted into a blur. Now and then the
lights of a town threw a yellow sheen over the
murky water. At intervals the yacht disappeared
from view behind a jutting tongue of land, but it
was never out of sight for long.
“Doctor,” said Cole abruptly, “I don't quite know
what to make of you, but we seem to have one
interest in common. Both of us are concerned over
Miss Brownell. I am partly responsible for what-
ever happens to her, while you But I think
you told me that your emotional self is dead.”
A queer little chuckle drifted out on the breeze.
There was a note of grim despair in it.
“Anyhow,” Cole went on, “there is a bond of
interest between you and me for the present. Seems
we ought to understand each other a little better.
The other night, when I trailed the hunchback to
your house and later found him asleep on the op-


248 THE UNKNOWN SEVEN
erating table, your conduct was as mysterious as the
deuce. What had happened?”
The doctor, one hand on the tiller, gazed rigidly
out over the black water to where the gray blur
of a sail was visible against the darkness.
“The thing which we call human intelligence
is only a thin veneer,” he remarked in whimsical
tones. “Sometimes only a slight thrust is needed
to break through it. It is very amusing to watch
the antics that a supposedly sane being will perform
when a crisis of some sort comes along and gives
him a jolt. My own part in this affair is an example
of what happens when the veneer of intelligence
cracks. You would not believe me if I were to tell
you, so what is the use?”
“You might try,” suggested Cole. The doctor
had been a changed man since he learned that Miss
Brownell was in danger. Before that he had been
all subterfuge, evasions, and bewildering subtleties.
Now Cole felt that he was face to face with the
man's real self.
“The hunchback came to my house that night to
dispatch me to a better world,” Latham said.
“He had just performed a similar service for
Malcolm Reeves,” Cole observed.
“He had orders to get me, too. The gang feared
both of us, and they had come to a pass where
they couldn't afford to stand on ceremony. Well,
that night I heard some one getting in the base-
ment way. That's the advantage of being a light
sleeper. I collared the fellow as he came up the
stairs. Not knowing what to do with him I gave


250 THE UNKNOWN SEVEN
The interesting point about them is that there is an
official record of the first, but none of the second.”
For a moment Cole peered sharply ahead. The
yacht was momentarily out of sight, but he caught
a glimpse of it again, as they rounded a curve in
the river bank.
“Go on,” he said. “You were involved with this
golden coterie, weren't you?”
“For a time. I thought they were engaged in
strictly scientific and legitimate pursuits. I had
known Carmody for some time, as a quiet and
scholarly man. It was through him I became con-
nected with the group. For a time all went
well. My specialized training helped them solve
two or three minor technical problems that came
up in connection with their experiments.
“Then one evening Carmody telephoned me that
an accident had occurred at his house on Bleecker
Street. He asked me to come over at once. When
I arrived he told me that Malcolm Reeves, who was
visiting him that evening, had stumbled and fallen
down the stairs. My examination revealed a com-
pound fracture and convinced me that the pressure
of the bones against the brain made an immediate
operation necessary.
“I had Reeves removed to the nearest hospital.
It happened to be one of the smaller private ones.
I was assisted by a nurse. She was a little nervous,
and I could see that she was new at the game, but
at first I thought nothing of it, not until I dis-
covered that there was something wrong with the
anaesthetic. She had blundered in administering it.
I shudder whenever I think of the result. Perhaps


THE VENEER OF INTELLIGENCE 251
you can realize something of what it means to have
a patient awake in the midst of an operation.”
“Did Reeves see you?” asked Cole suddenly.
The tiller wabbled for a moment in Latham's
hand. “He not only saw me, but he recognized
me. I shall never forget the expression on his
face. It was horrible! Well, luckily there were
no serious consequences. After a while Reeves
was brought under the anaesthetic again, and the
operation was successfully finished. In due time he
was taken to his home. To this day I don't know
whether Carmody told me the truth and the injury
was accidental, or whether some one deliberately in-
flicted it.”
“Couldn't you tell from the nature of the
wound?”
“Not with any degree of positiveness. I suspect
some one tried to murder him that night, but failed.
Perhaps the assassin lost his nerve. Carmody didn’t
dare to have Reeves die on his hands, and so he
sent for me. I do know that Reeves had been
troublesome toward the last, and that the other
members of the gang were afraid of him. They
had ample reason for wishing him out of the way,
or at least rendered harmless.”
“And so they performed a second operation that
destroyed his memory?” guessed Cole.
“Presumably, but that's only a surmise on my
part. Reeves recuperated very rapidly after the
first operation. One evening, shortly after he be-
came able to move about, he started out on a mys-
terious errand. He never returned, and the police
found no trace of him. About the same time I


CHAPTER XXI
THE FACE AT THE WINDOW
HILE Doctor Latham fastened the boat, Cole's
eyes swept the black masses of wooded hills
that slanted upward at a sharp angle from the river
bank. At the apex of the tallest peak a light
gleamed, but otherwise there was no sign of human
habitation on this side of the river. The lights of
a town twinkled across the foaming welter of waves,
and they helped Cole to fix their location. They
were in one of the wildest and most rugged sections
of Dutchess County. The peak, on which the solitary
light shone, had once been a popular pleasure resort,
and in the old days a cable railway had carried
week-end excursionists to the top. Of late, what
with the dry era and the public's fickle fancy, the
place had lost its popularity, and the buildings on the
peak were falling into decay. The ruggedly ro-
mantic setting seemed an ideal one for the kind
of adventure Cole anticipated.
With the doctor at his heels, he moved cautiously
toward the point where the yacht had anchored a
short distance ahead. Of a sudden they stopped.
The crack of a pistol rose sharply above the whine
of the wind.
“Only a signal, I think,” said Cole, after waiting
tensely for a few moments.
They advanced a little farther, then stopped on a
slight elevation from which they had an unob-


THE FACE AT THE WINDOW 257
structed view of the yacht. In the lights from
the craft they saw a number of men going ashore,
and several of them were carrying a bulky object.
Their faces were not recognizable at that distance,
but Cole thought there were about a dozen in all.
“We may have quite a lively tussle,” he observed
in an undertone. “I could have brought a few
helpers along, but safety doesn't always lie in num-
bers.”
“I like this better,” said Latham. “If there were
more of us there might not be enough thrills to go
around. Where are we?”
“That place, up there in the clouds, where you
see the light, is called Dutchess Point. I believe
there is a car coming down. That’s probably what
the pistol shot meant.”
A light was treading its way in a zigzagging
course down the side of the hill. Soon were heard
the chugging of motors and the metallic snarl of
brakes. The two men waited until the car reached
the group that had come off the yacht. As soon as
the loaded vehicle started to retread its path up
the hill they followed. It proved a hard climb, and
they reached the top a full half hour behind the car.
The apex was composed mostly of huge flat rock,
with here and there a few scrawny trees. There
were half a dozen buildings scattered about, and in
the largest one several lights had appeared by the
time the two climbers reached the top. They stood
in a dark spot behind a little cluster of starving
hemlocks. No one was in sight, but the sound of
voices drifted out to them through the open windows
of the large building.


258 THE UNKNOWN SEVEN
“Hear that noise?” whispered Latham. “What
do you suppose it is?”
Cole listened. A gentle, rhythmic whirring was
heard. He looked down at his feet, for it seemed
to come from underground.
“Machinery,” he said, and suddenly he remem-
bered the words spoken by Malcolm Reeves in his
insane glee: “Yellow—pretty yellow.” The whirring
noise that he heard, as he stood there under the
hemlocks, brought them back to his mind.
“Look!” said Latham suddenly.
Cole, following his pointing finger, glanced up-
ward. The large building, he now noticed, was
equipped with a high tower, and near its top a
light had appeared in the last few moments. At
the lighted window a face was dimly discernible.
Cole strained his eyes at the point of illumination,
and suddenly he gripped his companion's arm.
“It’s a woman, Latham!”
The doctor gasped. “It must be Miss Brownell,
then l’’
The two men continued staring upward. Their
imaginations touched up the dim and remote picture
which they saw with their eyes. The face was
very white, thought Cole, and the eyes held a look of
terror. She was looking downward; their glances
met somewhere in mid-air, and yet she appeared
not to see the two watchers below.
“What shall we do?” asked Latham.
“You stay here,” said Cole. “I’m going to look
around a bit.” -
He slipped away among the trees, avoiding the
open space in front of the building. The tower


THE FACE AT THE WINDOW 259
was in the rear, overlooking the steep incline, and
he moved in that direction. He looked up a sheer
wall to where the light shone. To climb up there
was out of the question, for the blank wall offered
no hold for either hands or feet. He moved cau-
tiously toward the front entrance. For a moment
he listened outside the sagging door, then boldly
pushed it open and entered.
He was in a dark corridor. Under one of the
doors at the side was a thin wedge of light. A
number of voices issued from it; evidently a con-
ference of some kind was in progress. Knowing
that the stairway leading to the tower must be in
that direction, Cole tiptoed farther down the hall.
A bold and reckless move, he had learned from
experience, was often more effective than a thought-
out plan. Before he could do anything else Miss
Brownell must be rescued. His hands were tied, as
long as she was held as a hostage by the gang.
Once she was out of harm's way he could proceed
against them as ruthlessly as he pleased.
He came to the end of the hall, and there he
brought up against another door. He opened it, al-
most sure that it must lead to the stairs, but instead
he found himself in a large, square room. A small
electric bulb glowed in the ceiling, and in its light
he caught a glimpse of a forbidding figure guarding
a door at the farther side. The sentinel was thick-
set and broad-shouldered. His bushy brows seemed
top-heavy for his very small eyes which glared out
at Cole in a startled way.
“Stop right where you are l’’ he commanded, at
the same instant reaching for his hip pocket. As


26o THE UNKNOWN SEVEN
his fingers closed around the handle of an auto-
matic, Cole lunged forward. His fist landed with
explosive force in the man's face, and he fell to the
ground without a sound.
“Sorry, old top, but it had to be done,” Cole
told the insensible man, as he opened the door
which the fellow had been guarding. Before him
was a winding stairway that seemed to extend up-
ward interminably. Very quickly Cole lifted the
man through the door and stretched him out along
the steps, then drew the door to.
He hurried up the stairs. The long ascent would
have exhausted a weaker man, but Cole's lungs and
muscles were in the pink of condition. At length,
panting a little, he reached the top. Before him
was a door. He rapped, and footfalls crossed the
floor within.
“Who’s there?” demanded a voice which he
recognized as Miss Brownell's. It sounded a bit
lofty, pathetically so, he thought.
“Cole,” he replied.
“Oh!” The exclamation was more a sigh of re-
lief. “But I can't let you in. The door is locked,
and I have no key.”
“I might have known it,” muttered Cole. The
space between the door and the wall of the tower
was very narrow. Bracing his back against the wall
he placed his feet on the door and shoved steadily.
It was of stout material, but at length it gave with
an abruptness that precipitated him to the floor.
Quickly he picked himself up.
The girl rushed toward him. There was an


THE FACE AT THE WINDOW. 261
excited flush which surmounted the white of her
face. “I am so glad—” she began.
“You were foolish,” Cole sternly interrupted.
“You shouldn't have started after Ballinger alone.
That's no job for a woman. What happened?”
“Ballinger was too clever for me,” she confessed.
“The moment I thought I had him I was shoved
into a car, blindfolded, and Well, that’s about
all I know. When I opened my eyes the next morn-
ing I found myself here.”
“How have they treated you?”
“Oh, very well, suspiciously well. I have been
told that prisoners who are doomed to die always
get the best of everything. Mr. Cole, you have
thrown a full-sized scare into the gang. I heard
a couple of the men talking outside my door this
morning. I suppose they felt sure I would never
have a chance to repeat what I heard. They
said—”
“Not so loud!” admonished Cole.
“I gathered from what they said,” she went on in
a whisper, “that the leaders of the gang are badly
frightened. They seem to think you are hot on
their trail.”
“They're mistaken,” declared Cole modestly. “I’ve
barely got started as yet.”
“Well, all the same they are very much worried.
Their plan, as one of the men put it, is to make
a swift clean-up and a quick get-away. Some one,
whom they called ‘the big chief,’ was to come out
here to-night.”
“About a dozen men arrived a little while ago,”


262 THE UNKNOWN SEVEN
Cole informed her. “No doubt the chief was among
them. Do you know who he is?” -
“No. He wasn't referred to by name in the
conversation which I overheard. I am sure, though,
that Doctor Latham isn't the man. In fact I never
really thought so. More of my woman's intuition,
I suppose.”
“What else did the men say?” he asked in a
whisper
“They said there is about half a billion dollars'
worth of gold ready to be minted. I didn't quite
understand what they meant by that. There is a
complete set of machinery hidden somewhere about
the place, and it is running at full capacity.”
“I should think the comings and goings of the
gang would excite the curiosity of the townspeople
across the river.”
“Oh, they've managed that part very cleverly
by circulating a report to the effect that the build-
ings are being renovated and that Dutchess Point
is to be reopened as a pleasure resort next spring.
In fact, they have put a crew of carpenters, road-
makers and gardeners to work on the place. Just
for a blind, of course. It seems they haven't neg-
lected a single precaution. Yet they seem to
be worried over something.”
“Excellent! When your enemy is worried, you
have an advantage over him. What seems to be
the trouble?”
“I couldn't quite make out. All I heard was a
few scattered remarks. It appears they are hav-
ing some difficulty with the gold-making process.
There seems to be a minor flaw in the product,


264 THE UNKNOWN SEVEN
whereabouts. Your disappearance came as a great
shock to him.”
“Then you no longer think he is implicated with
these scoundrels?”
“No, I don’t. He was with them until he saw
that their aims were crooked, and then he got out
as best he could. Latham has acted foolishly, but
that's all. The scientific side of these experiments
appealed to the scholar in him. I don't think he
was ever moved by greed. No, Latham wasn't to
be blamed. Whenever a man is in love he is apt
to make a fool of himself.”
She lowered her eyes. “Doctor Latham is a
good man,” she said tensely. “I wish I could—”
A gentle sigh escaped her.
“I understand,” murmured Cole. “Life is a bit
of a tangle, isn't it? Even the logical mind of
a scholar isn't able to steer clear of the meshes
when a charming woman is involved. One never
knows—”
He paused, threw a quick glance at the door,
then looked at Miss Brownell, noting the tensity
that had suddenly crept into her face. In an in-
stant his automatic was in his hand, and he tiptoed
softly to the door. Holding it open a crack, he
heard unmistakably the sounds of footsteps coming
up the stairs.
“Stand back!” he ordered curtly. “Some one's
coming!”
But the girl, smiling faintly, signified with a shrug
that she intended to remain where she was.


A DUEL OF WITS 267
Her cleverly simulated suspicion in regard to the
physician was well calculated to deceive them in
regard to the extent and accuracy of her infor-
mation.
“You may be right,” he said thoughtfully just
as the footsteps began to move upward again, and
once more his voice sounded as if coming from
the interior of the room. “I’ve had my eyes on
the doctor myself. He is a sly bird, but I’m not
sure that his cranium is the adequate size for a
job of this kind. However he will bear watching.
But we're wasting time. The first thing to do is
to get you safely out of this nest of crooks. I
think the way is clear, but we must—”
“You’re a little bit slow,” said a voice, and
the door came open, admitting a stocky individual
with a leveled automatic. He came straight for-
ward, stopping bewilderedly as he saw only the
girl, and in that instant Cole reached out behind
him, seized him firmly by the neck and, swinging
him backward with a powerful sweep, slammed his
head against the wall. With a fragmentary cry the
man went lurching to the floor, and in almost the
same instant Cole whirled round and struck his
companion a vigorous blow with the butt of his
pistol. The fellow dropped like a dead-weight.
“Two of them!” exclaimed Cole, feeling quite
elated at the success of his ruse. “Where's the
third P”
Miss Brownell, breathing rapidly, looked hard at
the door. Cole glanced out, but there was neither
sign nor sound of movement on the stairs.
“I thought there were several of them,” he mut-


268 THE UNKNOWN SEVEN
tered. “Must have been mistaken. Sounds are
deceptive, you know. This may come in handy.”
He stooped, picked up the weapon dropped by his
second adversary, and handed it to Miss Brownell.
With an expert air she examined the mechanism,
making sure it was loaded.
“You worked the trick to the queen's taste, Miss
Brownell,” he declared approvingly. “It was a
good piece of work.”
“But you did it all.”
“Far from it! I couldn’t have thrown them off
their guard if you hadn't helped. Do you know,”
peering at her curiously, “I was afraid you would
faint, or something like that.”
She laughed. “You haven't a very high opinion
of our sex, Mr. Cole.”
“It is rising every moment. We must get away
before these rascals come to. Feel strong enough
for a walk?”
“Just try me! Your exhibition of fisticuffs was
so stimulating that I am ready for anything.”
“Then let's start. Latham must be wondering
what has become of me.” With a glance at his
fallen foes, Cole started down the stairs, the girl
following. He did not wish to alarm her by
voicing his misgivings, but he was far from certain
that they would reach the bottom without an inter-
ruption. Doubtless the others must be aware by
this time that something was amiss. The burly
sentinel he had knocked down at the foot of the
stairs had probably either recovered consciousness
or been found by his accomplices. In either event,
their path was beset by perils.


A DUEL OF WITS 269
Pistol in one hand, Cole proceeded cautiously down
the stairs. They were dark, and the constant wind-
ing made progress difficult. He had discovered that
Miss Brownell was brave and resourceful, but he
would breathe more easily when he had got her out
of harm's way.
They reached another turn, and suddenly the girl
stumbled and lurched violently against him.
“Ouch!” she moaned, trying to repress an ex-
clamation of pain. “My ankle! I think I
twisted it.”
Cole cursed softly as he gathered her in his arms.
Her figure was writhing in the throes of physical
distress.
“As I told you once before,” she complained
mockingly, trying to make light of the injury,
“you are not at all gallant. Almost any other man
would have welcomed the chance.”
Cole muttered something under his breath. A
dislocated ankle complicated a situation that was al-
ready critical enough, but the girl's superb behavior
stirred him to unwilling admiration. His fears
were all for her, not for himself. He was almost
at the foot of the stairs now. If he could only
get her safely out of the building and place her
in Doctor Latham's care. If only
Abruptly he stopped before a door. With his
burden in his arms he had reached the foot of the
stairs. For a moment he stopped and listened, but
all seemed quiet on the other side. An involuntary
moan of pain told that Miss Brownell was suffer-
ing intensely. Balancing her on his shoulder he
reached out a hand and pushed the door open.


CHAPTER XXIII
THE SEVENTH INGREDIENT
HEN, some thirty or forty minutes later, Cole
opened his eyes and fingered his swollen jaw,
he found himself sprawling in a chair in a strange
room. In front of him stood Doctor Latham, a
humorously sympathetic look on his face.
The room, with its faded tawdriness and crum-
bling decorations, looked as if it had once been a
private dining room. The scratched woodwork and
the liquid stains on the wall paper were reminiscent
of hilarious times. Cole noticed that the two win-
dows were shuttered on the outside.
“How do you feel?” inquired the physician.
“As if I was all jaw,” said Cole, opening his
eyes a little wider and gazing stupidly at the doctor.
It took him several minutes to recall that he was
still in the big house on Dutchess Point. A rhyth-
mic vibration that seemed to come from beneath
the floor, accompanied by the remote humming of
machinery, brought him back to the present.
“Why are you here?” he demanded of the physi-
cian. “Didn't I tell you to stay outside?”
“So you did, and it was excellent advice, my
friend. I wish now I had heeded it. But I grew
impatient and proceeded to find out what had be-
come of you. All I got for my pains was an ungen-
tle tap in the region of the occipital bone.”
With a serio-comic expression the doctor caressed


274 THE UNKNOWN SEVEN
mured. “I’m a bit dull to-night. Glad you have
your thinking cap on, Cole. The amiable ruffians
will be given to understand that I refuse to dis-
cuss the seventh ingredient until Miss Brownell is
at a safe distance. After that nothing will mat-
ter. Smoke?”
Cole helped himself to a cigarette from the physi-
cian's case, slanting a quick glance in the girl's direc-
tion as he lighted it. She looked both puzzled and
amused.
“Were you saying something I was not supposed
to hear?” she inquired.
The question remained unanswered, for just then
the door opened, and the gaunt, frock-coated figure
of Professor Carmody strutted into the room. In
his hand was an automatic, which he managed very
cautiously, and his shrunken face was all smiles.
“Hello, Cole,” he chirped gleefully. “Good eve-
ning, Miss Brownell. How are you, doctor? Glad
to see you all here.” He chuckled wheezily and
rubbed his bony hands with their talonlike fingers.
“Too bad you didn't follow my advice the other
day, Latham. You would have escaped a lot of
trouble if you had been sensible.”
“Go to blazes,” said the doctor contemptuously,
advancing a step toward Carmody.
The pistol came upward in the professor's hand.
“Don’t move,” he warned. “And it won’t do either
of you any good to reach for your weapons. They
were removed while you were—ahem—incapaci-
tated. We object to rowdyism in this place. Our
leader is a peaceful man and does not like disturb-
ances. Cole, you have caused us a lot of embar-


THE SEVENTH INGREDIENT 275
rassment, and see what it has led you to. I be-
lieve our last meeting took place in room 2512, the
Security Building.”
Cole made a wry face as he recalled how the
professor had tricked him. “You were a bit too
clever for me that time, Carmody,” he admitted.
The professor gave a cackling, complacent laugh.
“Even an old man like me must have his little
jokes,” he remarked, still adhering to his ludicrous
habit of raising and dropping his voice on almost
every other word. “I’ll wager you don't know even
now what my object was. Eh, Cole?”
Cole measured him with a cool glance. “I think
I do,” he declared quietly. “The body of Reeves
was in the safe. Members of your illustrious gang
had removed it from its former place and put it
there. One of my men learned what the safe con-
tained, and he paid with his life for his discovery.
Later you dropped in to see that everything was
in readiness to sneak the safe and its contents out
of town.”
“You are a very shrewd guesser, Mr. Cole. It
is a matter of keen regret to me that one of such
fine intellect must be on the wrong side of this situa-
tion. As for the body of Reeves, it will very soon
be reduced to a handful of fine dust. The proc-
ess will be scientific in every respect. Nothing
coarse or gruesome, you understand. We couldn't
have disposed of it satisfactorily in the city. It
would have been too dangerous. But that isn't what
I came in here to talk about. Doctor Latham, you
were once a friend of mine, and in the beginning
of this enterprise you gave us several valuable hints.


276 THE UNKNOWN SEVEN
For the last time I ask you to be reasonable. It
is your last chance.”
“And if I refuse?”
The professor screwed his face into a melancholy
expression. “In that event you, too, will soon be
only a handful of dust.”
“Even so I will have the advantage over you,
professor. When your end comes there won't be
enough dust to make a thimbleful. I hope I make
my meaning clear?”
“You will not reconsider your decision?”
“No!” declared Latham explosively.
“Not even in order to save the life of this charm-
ing young lady?” Carmody turned his beatifically
smiling face toward Miss Brownell.
A pallor crept up under the doctor's eyes. He
stared with a horrified expression at the professor.
“You mean that 39
“Precisely, my dear doctor. The young lady is
dangerous to us. Under the circumstances the law
of self-preservation demands that she be rendered
harmless, and the only effective way of doing that
is to remove her from this sad world. However,
in appreciation of the services you once rendered
us, she shall be spared if you will reconsider your
decision.”
The doctor appeared to hesitate. His eyes, full
of tenderness, were fixed on Miss Brownell. Cole
could see that he pretended to be wavering. Then
the girl spoke.
“Doctor Latham has decided,” she declared in
a clear, calm voice. “He is not the type of man
who bargains with blackguards. I wouldn't permit


THE SEVENTH INGREDIENT 277
it, even if he were so inclined. Go away!” she
added, turning her eyes, full of cold contempt, on
the professor.
Carmody winced beneath her scornful gaze. For
a moment he plucked nervously at the lapel of his
coat. Then, with a soft chuckle that sounded dia-
bolical to the other three in the room, he turned to
the doctor.
“The young lady had spoken,” he remarked.
“I'm afraid her pretty head is full of silly notions.
Youth is always like that. You are older and wiser,
Latham. What do you say?”
The doctor regarded him calculatingly. “Just
what do you want, Carmody?”
“Ah, that's better! Getting down to terms, eh?
I see I was not mistaken in relying on your com-
mon sense. You know what I want, doctor. It
is something we have discussed before. Miss
Brownell and Mr. Cole will not understand what
I mean, but it has something to do with the sev-
enth ingredient.”
Latham nodded. “Thought so. Very curious on
that point, aren't you, professor? I used all my
spare time during three or four months working
out that interesting angle. It was quite fascinat-
ing, I assure you. Do you know, professor, I some-
times wonder if the late lamented Doctor Price was
not about two hundred years ahead of his time?
From the very beginning of our experiments I sus-
pected that Doctor Price's secret—the secret which
he never divulged—was a sort of electronic reac-
tion applied to chemical compounds. When I


278 THE UNKNOWN SEVEN
learned how to use that reaction in the process we
had under way, my problem was solved.”
Carmody regarded him narrowly. “The electron
wasn't known in Doctor Price's day.”
“And that's why I say he was about two cen—
turies ahead of his time. At any rate, I am satis-
fied he stumbled upon something which closely re-
sembles our modern discoveries. Nothing else ex-
plains the marvelous achievement that he took with
him to his grave.”
“And you claim to have resurrected his discov-
very, Latham P”
“I am not in the habit of making claims,” said
the doctor modestly, with an air of mysteriousness
that was well calculated to impress Carmody. “I
prefer to let facts speak for themselves.”
Carmody pondered, his sharp, greedy little eyes
wandering from one face in the group to another.
“You made memoranda of your experiments, of
course?”
“Naturally.”
“Where are your notes?” >
Latham smiled blandly. “In two places. Here,”
tapping his head, “I carry the whole process. My
written memoranda are in a safe place, a place
which I shan’t divulge to you until you have given
us reasonable guarantees in regard to our safety.”
Professor Carmody scowled. “You are hardly in
a position to dictate terms.”
“Do as you like,” said Latham with a shrug. “If
you reject my conditions, I - shall follow Doctor
Price's example and take my little secret with me
to my grave.”


THE SEVENTH INGREDIENT 279
“And what about Miss Brownell ?”
The physician winced, but before he could answer
the girl spoke for herself.
“Don’t mind me,” she said spiritedly. “Doctor
Latham, why don't you tell the professor that he
is beneath contempt?” *
Carmody turned his head and regarded her with
a look of lofty disdain. “Haughty little devil!” he
muttered under his breath, then faced the physician
again. “Well, Latham, what would you call rea-
sonable guarantees?”
“Cole and myself will remain here for the pres-
ent. As far as Miss Brownell is concerned, I’ll be
satisfied when she telephones me from her home in
town that she has arrived there safely. Does that
strike you as reasonable, Cole?”
“Perfectly.”
Carmody scratched his jaw perplexedly. “It is
a very difficult situation. I shall refer it to the
leader of our organization.”
With that he backed cautiously toward the door,
his automatic gripped tightly in his thin, gnarled
hand. In a moment the door closed behind him,
then came the sound of a heavy bolt turning in the
lock, and the two men and the girl were alone.


CORNERED 287
noted a new expression in her wide, lustrous eyes
as she fixed them on the physician. “But you
mustn't do it again,” she added firmly. “He might
shoot next time.”
“How is the foot?” inquired Latham.
“Better—much better. I think I can step down
on it now.”
“You had better not try as yet,” said the physi-
cian with a professional air. “Cole and I may
challenge you to a foot race by and by, and you
must preserve your energies.” -
She merely smiled at this, and again Cole noted
the new, tender expression in her face. He was
about to frame a remark, but just then the door
opened. Two burly, hard-faced men, each with an
automatic in his hand, entered the room.
“The big chief wants to see you,” announced
one of them. “This way.” He pointed toward
the open door.
Cole glanced narrowly at the weapon in his hand,
then decided that at the present moment resistance
would be worse than useless. There were other
lives besides his own to be considered. Evidently
the same thought had occurred to the doctor. After
a moment's hesitation and an exchange of glances
with Cole, he took the girl in his arms and carried
her out followed by Cole.
One of the armed men, walking at the head of
fhe little procession, opened the door.
“In there,” he directed. “Step lively!”
He gave Cole an ungentle shove with his auto-
matic, and the three prisoners walked through the
door.


FACE TO FACE 289
Cole's next words were spoken in an under-
tone, too low for the girl to hear. “You realize
what you are up against, don't you, Latham”
“Against a bunch of cockeyed devils, of course.”
“I had something more specific in mind. Pro-
fessor Carmody has failed to bully us, so now the
big chief himself is to have a try at it. You
realize, of course, that he wouldn't allow himself
to be seen by us unless—” He paused and looked
gravely at the doctor.
“Yes, I understand,” whispered Latham, throw-
ing an uneasy glance at Miss Brownell. “He
wouldn't show himself to us if he thought there
was the slightest chance that we would ever tell
tales about him. These scoundrels are planning to
murder us, Cole.”
“So it looks, but not until they have made one
more effort to make you reveal the formula for
the seventh ingredient.”
There was a look of sad humor in the doctor’s
eyes. “And next time they will try harder. I’ll
keep up the bluff as long as I can. The seventh
ingredient!” He chuckled grimly under his breath.
“Like most humbugs, it sounds well.”
Cole glanced expectantly toward the door. “A lit-
tle while ago, out in the other room, when you
stepped between Carmody's pistol and Miss Brown-
ell, did you expect the professor would shoot?”
“I didn't know what to expect, to tell the truth.”
“Well, I knew he wouldn't,” said Cole emphati-
cally. “While we are waiting, you might try to
figure out the reason why. When you find it,
file it away in your mind for future reference.


290 THE UNKNOWN SEVEN
It may come in handy. We must stop this whis-
pering. We are making Miss Brownell nervous.”
A slight sound was heard in the corridor.
The two armed guards stood aside, and then the
door opened. A moment later, smiling thinly as he
saw his suspicions confirmed, Cole faced the leader
of the alchemists.
“Good evening, Mr. Englebreth,” he said easily.
An attendant pushed the invalid's wheel chair
up to the desk. Englebreth, his disproportionately
broad shoulders slightly hunched, looked about the
room with a rather listless expression. He was as
white-faced as ever, and his pale, washed-out eyes
showed little animation, but a faintly sinister smile
played about the long, thin lips. In his hand was
a pistol with which he toyed with apparent care-
lessness.
He nodded at Cole, then, with a quick motion
of his long, slim fingers, dismissed his attendant.
The door closed, and the two armed guards stood
in front of it. For a while no one spoke. A
hush seemed to have descended over the little group
with the invalid's entrance. Latham regarded him
intently, but without a sign of surprise. For a
moment Englebreth's pale eyes rested on Miss
Brownell, then he glanced at the doctor, and finally
at Cole. His forehead puckered a little.
“You do not seem surprised to see me,” he
remarked petulantly, as if disappointed that his
entrance had created no sensation.
“Why should I be?” Cole asked.
“Surely you didn't suspect until now that I was
connected with the enterprise on foot here?”


FACE TO FACE 29I
“On the contrary,” said Cole, “your entrance has
only confirmed the suspicions that have been run-
ning in and out of my head for the past two days.
They began when I saw you enter the offices of
the Bureau of Civic Research. They received a set-
back when I learned that the letters you left on
the desk were genuine.”
Englebreth seemed mildly amused. “I am a pub-
lic-spirited man,” he declared. “The Bureau of
Civic Research is one of the numerous praise-
worthy activities I am interested in. Being one of
its honorary vice presidents I have free access to
its headquarters, of course. When I learned, quite
by accident, that a certain mysterious organization,
located on the top floor of the building, was resist-
ing my plans, then this privilege stood me in good
stead. You might have guessed, Cole, that I left
those letters for a blind, just to show any casual
visitor that everything was open and aboveboard.”
“I might,” said Cole dryly.
“Yet you have proven yourself a very fair
guesser, I must say. You are a clever fellow, Cole.
The Unknown Seven didn't become really danger-
ous to us until you took charge of its activities.
Not that you have accomplished anything,” he added
with a dry chuckle. “We are too strong even for
you.”
Cole received the compliment with a shrug. A
silence fell between them. In the stillness the
rhythmic humming of machinery was distinctly
heard. In Cole's ears it sounded like a paean of
gold. He looked deep into Englebreth's pale eyes.
There was a queer flicker in the depths, an ex-


292 THE UNKNOWN SEVEN
pression of insatiable greed to which the subter-
ranean whir and throw was but the audible accom-
paniment. He had seen the same expression in
Reeves' burning orbs and also in the eyes of Car-
mody and Ballinger. There was something abysmal
about it. It suggested one who, having gazed too
long on visions of great wealth, had become enslaved
to a fearful obsession.
“Yes, you are very clever,” Englebreth went on.
“It did not occur to me that any one might suspect
what the safe contained, but evidently you did.
You followed the yacht, of course. It was a very
ingenious move, Cole. Without doing so you would
never have located our establishment here. Now
that you are here what do you propose to do?”
Cole only smiled. Again he looked deep into
Englebreth's eyes and saw the smoldering fires of
the fever of gold.
“My wife is an admirer of yours, Cole,” the
invalid went on. “When her brother disappeard she
insisted that I engage you to find him. Of course
I couldn't very well refuse. It would have looked
suspicious, and, besides, I supposed you were harm-
less. When I saw that you were about to learn too
much, through your connection with me, I succeeded
in persuading my wife that you were not worthy of
confidence, that it was best to dismiss you. Again
I ask you what you intend to do.”
The words sounded like a taunt. Again Cole
slanted a glance at the telephone. The instrument
tantalized him. He noticed that the green cord at-
tached to its base was of generous length. His
mind worked quickly, but the sight of the three


296 THE UNKNOWN SEVEN
“No?” Englebreth's thin fingers seemed to tighten
around the pistol. “Perhaps I can convince
you 39
He stopped short. A squeallike cry of aston-
ishment escaped him, for Cole had just done a very
unexpected thing. It was so unexpected, in fact,
that it seemed like the act of a person whose
reason was tottering. With arms folded across
his chest he had casually approached the chair in
which Miss Brownell sat. For a time he had seemed
absorbed in deep thought, but all the while he
had been scheming how he might divert Englebreth's
attention, even if only for a moment, from the
menacing pistol in his hand. Anything of a
startling nature, the more bizarre and ludicrous the
better, would serve his purpose. Now he turned
suddenly and gave the girl a resounding slap on
the cheek. He followed it up with another, then
with a third.
A spell seemed to fall over the gathering. They
had witnessed an act, in itself trivial and ridiculous,
that staggered their reason by its sheer fatuity. For
a measured moment their minds were at a standstill.
That was exactly what Cole had intended, and a
moment was all he needed. He had acted on a
fugitive inspiration at a time when all seemed lost,
when a move of a more rational nature would
only have hastened the inevitable.
The resounding smack of the third blow had
scarcely drifted out on the silence when he leaped
at the invalid's chair. In an instant, while the
minds of Englebreth and the two guards at the
door were still dazed from contemplation of a


298 THE UNKNOWN SEVEN
derstand. It was several moments before the physi-
cian could shake off his stupefaction. He moved
haltingly over the floor and dazedly took possession
of the pistols.
“It was magnificent, Mr. Cole!” murmured the
girl, at last grasping the psychological stratagem by
which Cole had reversed the situation.
“But if I hadn't seen it happen, I would have
sworn it couldn't be done,” said Latham.
Cole's face was grave. His ruse had only averted
their immediate danger. Any moment other mem-
bers of the organization might pour into the room,
crushing them by superior numbers. Every second
counted now. Holding the pistol in one hand, Cole
drew the telephone to him and spoke a number in
the transmitter. Only a few words would be needed
to make Carlin understand the situation, and within
an hour reinforcements would arrive. He won-
dered, as he waited for his connection, if they
could hold out until then. Impatiently he jigged
the hook, muttering heartfelt imprecations upon the
state of the rural telephone service, and then, in a
twinkling, something happened.
He saw the cripple's weazened hand move stealth-
ily along the side of the desk, became conscious
that a heretofore unnoticed door had burst open
behind him, heard the girl’s quick, startled cry, saw
the light blotted out as if a pall had suddenly
dropped over the little room, felt a stinging blow
at the back of the head, and, with Englebreth's
diabolic chuckles dinning in his ears, fell to the
floor.


A. CRY 305
of Miss Brownell reduced to a gibbering lunatic
is a little too much for your imagination to dwell
on. You have a vivid recollection of what hap-
pened to Reeves.”
'A dull, hoarse groan sounded in the physician's
chest. Cole, watching him, thought he was about
to give way under an overwhelming strain.
“You’re mistaken, Englebreth,” he managed to
say. “There is no such thing as the seventh in-
gredient. I let you go on thinking so because 33
Englebreth interrupted with a wave of his hand.
“I expected you to say that. It would be your
logical evasion. You can't deceive me with such
nonsense. Only last night you discussed the possi-
bilities of the seventh ingredient with Professor
Carmody. As he explained it to me, it's a sort of
electronic reaction. Not being a scientific man, I
don't understand what that means, but it doesn't
matter. I have the utmost respect for your scientific
achievements, doctor. Will you give us the
formula P”
Latham fumbled in vain for a convincing argu-
ment. His advantage had not only slipped away
from him, but it had become a deadly boomerang
in Englebreth's hand.
“I swear I am telling you the truth!” he cried
brokenly.
A cold smile curled the cripple's lips. “Such
childish subterfuge doesn't go with me,” he said
contemptuously. “Either you give me the formula
instantly, or Miss Brownell will be a lunatic inside
of an hour. Take your choice.”
He leaned back in the chair, slowly and playfully


306 THE UNKNOWN SEVEN
twisting the automatic in his hand. Cole stepped
forward.
“Latham has told you the truth,” he declared.
“The seventh ingredient never existed outside of
his imagination.”
Englebreth shrugged with an air of utter in-
credulity. Cole could see that there was no way
of disturbing his firmly rooted belief. And he
knew that, even if the seventh ingredient had been
a reality, Latham's submission would not have al-
tered their situation.
Englebreth looked at his watch, then summoned
one of his bodyguards and whispered something in
his ear. The man left the room. The slamming of
the door sounded like a death knell in the tense
silence. Latham's chest heaved in a frenzy of sup-
pressed emotions. Minutes passed, and then hurried
footsteps sounded overhead, accompanied by the
sound of a resisting body being dragged over the
floor. Latham, with a wild look in his face, started
forward, but one of the guards shoved him back.
Breathing fast and raspingly he swayed unsteadily
on his feet. Of a sudden he gave a violent start,
then stood as if frozen into immobility. From
the room above came a long cry of terror, uttered
in a woman's voice.
Latham's bulging eyes stared upward. There was
a look of insanity in his face.
“Stop it!” he cried hoarsely. “For God's
sake—”
Another cry, more poignant than the others,
shrilled through the house.
“Stop it—you fiend!” cried Latham.


3IO THE UNKNOWN SEVEN
with a chuckle. “It’s the best kind of life insurance,
but I fear it won't last long. Any more tricks
in your repertory, Cole?”
“One more, I think.” Cole glanced toward the
shadowy corner where he had stood during Engle-
breth's presence in the room. “I understand,” he
went on casually, “that Dutchess Point was once
a very gay place.”
“If so, its gayety hasn't improved with age.”
Cole ignored his flippancy. “I’ve been told it
was once a notorious gambling resort. Places of
that kind are usually equipped with contrivances
for making hasty exits—trapdoors, sliding panels
and that sort of thing.”
Latham raised his brows. “What are you get-
ting at?”
But Cole seemed in no hurry to approach his
subject. “Ever notice, Latham, that many people
find it very hard to remain motionless when they
are in a state of deep mental concentration? Physi-
cal movement of some sort seems a necessary relief
from mental effort. One man I know is always
plucking at his watch chain when he is absorbed
in some mental task. Another taps his desk with a
pencil. My own favorite diversion on such occa-
sions is to beat a tattoo with my knuckles.”
“Highly interesting,” remarked Latham, “but I
fail to see the point. It is either very shallow or
very deep.”
“Neither, Latham. A little while ago, while you
were enacting that highly dramatic scene for Engle-
breth's benefit, I stood back there in the corner,
with my hands behind my back, tapping the wall


THE ENEMY STRIKES 319
Ballinger jerked up his head, then stopped dead
in his tracks, facing the cot. The cripple whirled
round in his swivel chair, a look of utter consterna-
tion flooding his white face as he saw Cole, stand-
ing calmly a foot away, a leveled automatic in
each hand. The second guard leaped forward, but
in a moment Cole had him covered.
“Drop that gun!” he ordered, making an ominous
gesture with one of his pistols. “This instant!”
The man's jaw sagged, and the weapon dropped
from his hand. Englebreth, sitting hunched and
shuddering in his chair, stared at the intruder as if
he were seeing a specter.
“You !” he exclaimed in a thin, rasping voice.
“You 33
Cole ignored him. His eyes gleamed like points
of polished steel. “Ballinger,” he said in a very
calm voice, “I’d rather put a bullet through your
black heart, but I’m going to give you one chance
for your life. See how quickly you can cut Doctor
Latham loose. A little speed may save your life.”
The syringe fell from Ballinger's trembling fingers.
For a moment he hesitated, then a knife appeared
in his hand, and with surprising speed he slashed
the cords around Latham's hands and feet. A little
dazedly the physician rose from the cot. There
was a dull, smoldering fever in his eyes as he
looked at Ballinger. With startling suddenness his
right hand shot out, landing a vicious blow between
Ballinger's eyes. :
“There—I promised you that!” he exclaimed grit-
tily. “And you!” -
Again his powerful fist darted out, and a splash


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