I 
 
 I
 
 '.' 
 
 Present!
 
 THE FLICKERING MATCH REVEALED US TO EACH OTHER 
 
 Page 249
 
 A Hand in the Game 
 
 By 
 
 Gardner Hunting 
 
 With frontispiece by 
 J. N. MARCHAND 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY 
 1911
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1911, 
 
 BY 
 
 HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY 
 
 Published October, igii 
 
 RAMWAT, N. J.
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 I. CERTAIN HIGH CARDS i 
 
 II. A QUARREL ESPOUSED ..... 9 
 
 III. UNKNOWN GROUND 21 
 
 IV. A FIGHT FOR ITS OWN SAKE .... 36 
 V. A DAYLIGHT MYSTERY 53 
 
 VI. AN INHERITANCE WAITS 65 
 
 VII. THRUST UNDER GUARD 77 
 
 VIII. SHEER HAZARD 91 
 
 IX. A COMPANION OF LUCK 106 
 
 X. NOT ALWAYS TO THE BOLD . . . .123 
 
 XI. NOR TO THE PATIENT 134 
 
 XII. SOMETIMES TO THE WISE 144 
 
 XIII. SHAKEN CONFIDENCE 151 
 
 XIV. HEARTS INSURGENT 162 
 
 XV. A LONG-ARMED ENEMY 171 
 
 XVI. WOUNDS OF A FRIEND 179 
 
 XVII. A MEETING IN THE DARK 192 
 
 XVIII. THE ODOR OF EVIDENCE 205 
 
 XIX. A SLEEPING POTION 217 
 
 XX. WITH CHANCE AS PILOT 228 
 
 XXI. MATCH-LIGHT 238 
 
 XXII. THE REACH OF THE LAW 249 
 
 iii 
 
 2136017
 
 iv Contents 
 
 CHAPTER PAGB 
 
 XXIII. OBSTACLE RACE FOR Two 25g 
 
 XXIV. LOVE OUT OF LEASH .... 2 nj 
 XXV. A GHOST THAT SMOKED .... 2 g 3 
 
 XXVI. THE WAY OF A SPY 2Q4 
 
 XXVII. VENUS GIVES UP A SECRET ... * . 303 
 
 XXVIII. WHAT COULDN'T BE HELPED . . . 3I2
 
 A Hand in the Game
 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 CERTAIN HIGH CARDS 
 
 A VICIOUSLY thrown snowball missed the tar- 
 get at which it was hurled by my reckless hand, 
 and struck one that was chosen by my fate. A pair 
 of red lips, sweet and tender and beautiful, and my 
 cruel little missile, mischievously flung in wanton 
 carelessness, came into conjunction like the stars in 
 a plotted horoscope, foretelling a strange new for- 
 tune for me. 
 
 She was slender and small and dark and lovely 
 as the loveliest red rose that ever opened its flushed 
 petals to the day. I was a great, blundering young 
 giant with more strength than sense, more pug- 
 nacity than judgment, more hair-brained reckless- 
 ness than sober experience. It was April yes, 
 April with snow and spring was in the air after 
 one parting norther had trailed a white wake across 
 the wide flat countryside. She was at home in the 
 little suburban village where the train that carried 
 me cityward had been stopped by the mere accident 
 of a freight-spill though I call it by a different 
 name now. And I, who had been playing in very 
 ordinary luck but to whom fortune had just dealt 
 certain wonderful cards, was a mere stranger,
 
 2 A Hand in the Game 
 
 halted by very chance for an hour at a spot I had 
 never seen before and might have thought I would 
 never see again. 
 
 I aimed my snowball at nothing greater than the 
 wooden cigar Indian that stood before the corner 
 door of the small hotel where I had had a scanty 
 luncheon. And she came round the corner just in 
 time for the flying frozen sphere to deal the blow 
 that literally broke a way for me into her life. 
 
 I have never done a thing that humiliated me 
 more. I ran to her, where she stopped and stood, 
 half dazed by the sudden shock, both little slim 
 gloved hands to her face. And then I saw that she 
 was lovely. 
 
 I was twenty-four then. It is not an age of dis- 
 cretion. I considered myself an experienced man 
 of the world. I had traveled, worked, loafed, 
 played. I had faced some luck and some need. I 
 had tasted some bitter and some sweet. I had 
 known comfort and seen times when the expectation 
 of a supper was the sum of my wealth. I thought 
 that was all experience. But I had not loved. 
 
 Chance does not do things by halves. It was 
 neither merit nor demerit of mine that had shuf- 
 fled the cards. I had come to this place because a 
 strange turn of the wheel had brought me. And I 
 had been stopped by an unforeseen thing. I had 
 chanced to lunch at the hotel, and to throw the 
 snowball. When my Uncle John Randall had died, 
 a rich and lonely old man my only connection
 
 Certain High Cards 3 
 
 with whom during his life was the fact that good old 
 Maggie Valentine, who had nursed me at the be- 
 ginning of my life, when my mother died, had 
 nursed him at the end of his when Uncle John had 
 died and had left to me, his hitherto apparently un- 
 loved and unwanted nephew, all of his considerable 
 possessions, I had thought it sufficiently astonish- 
 ing. Poor old Uncle John! I misjudged him. He 
 said he gave me his money because I was good to 
 Maggie Valentine. That showed a soft spot in his 
 heart, certainly. But the reason was not convinc- 
 ing. I had written to Maggie for years, since I 
 had first learned where she was, and had sent her 
 a little money. If that was the reason for sur- 
 prising favor from fortune, I recommend the 
 method as a pleasant one. But fortune only com- 
 menced with that. 
 
 She stood quite still in the sunlight the girl 
 a beautiful little figure, full of lithe grace, lovely 
 in every line, from the slender fingers that touched 
 the smooth shining bands of her dark hair, under 
 the modish hat, to the slim foot that was making its 
 narrow print in the untrodden snow. I could not 
 choose but see that, startled as I was at what I had 
 done. She stood still and listened while I made 
 apology. Then she raised her face and looked at me. 
 
 " Of course you did not mean to," she said. 
 
 " Indeed, I did not. I threw at the wooden figure 
 and missed, and you came around the corner." 
 
 She dried the spattered melting snow from her
 
 4 A Hand in the Game 
 
 face, and the trickling blood from her lips. The 
 small handkerchief she used was criss-crossed with 
 the red marks, and dampened "with the water. I 
 clumsily offered mine. I stood awkwardly and 
 watched, conscious at once of the wish to give better 
 reparation, and of the wonder I felt at her utter 
 lack of resentment for the pain and shock I had 
 inflicted. 
 
 " Isn't there anything I can do? " I asked. 
 
 " No, thank you," she answered. But she took 
 my handkerchief, too luckily a reasonably fine one 
 I chanced to possess. 
 
 " I feel very guilty very eager to make some 
 reparation and I am as glad that I have not in- 
 jured you as I am, frankly, astonished at your good 
 nature. Most girls would have been furious. 
 Won't you let me see how much it is cut ? " 
 
 She laughed a little. " It's only bruised. But 
 see, I am ruining your handkerchief." 
 
 She held out my handkerchief. The narrow red 
 lines showed upon it also. I was distressed, indeed. 
 I looked at the fine little white teeth as they showed 
 in the first real smile she had allowed. She was 
 rather remarkably serious for so kind and gracious 
 a little lady. I cursed my own clumsiness and my 
 present lack of ideas to suggest a proper repara- 
 tion. Also I could not but feel the charm of her 
 and wish that I could leave a better impression. 
 
 " Surely, you can think of something I should do 
 to make up," I urged.
 
 Certain High Cards 
 
 " There's nothing to make up." She smiled 
 again, sweetly, gently, with frank good will, and 
 no coquettishness. There was only the slightest 
 hint of a personal interest in me, in the one glance 
 she cast over my great, hulking figure. Perhaps the 
 pique to my vanity had to do with the spur I felt 
 to compel her consideration. 
 
 " Then, if I am quite forgiven " I paused. 
 
 ' You are quite forgiven. I " She inter- 
 rupted herself abruptly and looked into my eyes 
 with sudden quick appeal. 
 
 " I know," I answered promptly. " You have 
 thought of something I can do." 
 
 ' You could do one thing for me if you will," 
 she added, with a frankness that was not incon- 
 sistent with her reserve. 
 
 " I am at your service." 
 
 She looked at me again earnestly. Her eyes were 
 dark and deep and beautiful. Her brows were 
 straight. Her features were fine and clean-cut. 
 Her lips, despite the slightly swollen bruise on one, 
 showed a firm, sweet line. The contour of her 
 cheek and chin was lovely. Her throat was white 
 and slender. She was young, just out of girl- 
 hood, and she was beautiful. 
 
 " I haven't any right," she said gravely. " But 
 I'm going to take you at your word. Curiously 
 enough, I am in difficulty and I have no one at the 
 moment to serve me." 
 
 ' Then let me, please."
 
 6 A Hand in the Game 
 
 " I will, and thank you. It's only to take this 
 letter to the top of the stairs across the street and 
 deliver it. A friend was to have delivered it for 
 me, but he did not come and it will not wait." 
 
 She held out a business-like looking letter and I 
 took it. It was addressed in a delicate hand and 
 bore an unfamiliar name. 
 
 " The name is on it. It's for a man named Jud- 
 son Bain. His office is the first at the head of 
 those stairs there by the hardware store and his 
 name is on the door. It will relieve me of consid- 
 erable embarrassment if you will deliver it to him." 
 
 Somewhat surprised at the request I yet did not 
 find it a thing to cavil at. It seemed still more 
 gracious in her to give me a small service to per- 
 form. It would make my parting from her after 
 our rough introduction more graceful. I took the 
 letter. 
 
 " I shall take this as a sign of full pardon," I 
 said. 
 
 She bowed, and smiled a little as she had smiled 
 before. She yielded me my handkerchief too, seem- 
 ingly with half unconscious movement. And then 
 she turned rather sharply away. 
 
 I raised my hat and wheeled to cross the street. 
 I was loath to lose sight of her but I could not 
 stand and stare. The two or three companions 
 from the belated train, who had been with me and 
 had witnessed my exploit, were standing in a door- 
 way, looking smilingly on. I was conscious of
 
 Certain High Cards 7 
 
 them again and of their amused looks. But I did 
 not turn my head. Indeed, my eyes held the vision 
 of the sweet face at which I had looked, and my 
 mind was busy with the odd suddenness with which 
 she had acceded to my begging to be allowed to 
 serve her. It was curious, too, that she had ac- 
 knowledged that she was in difficulty. That had 
 been her expression rather a strong one. 
 
 I crossed the street. At the opposite pavement 
 I turned to look back. I could not forbear, for curi- 
 osity alone would have compelled it. The girl was 
 not in sight but I saw faces at the windows of shops 
 and knew that my fellow-travelers had not been 
 the only witnesses of the episode. I quickly re- 
 gretted my backward glance and was quicker still 
 to pursue my errand. I crossed the pavement and 
 entered the stairway that had been indicated. 
 
 I began to have a rather poignant sense of having 
 lost something I would gladly have kept, as the feel- 
 ing came that the girl had actually gone beyond 
 my reach. Five minutes before I had not known of 
 her existence. After that one brief moment of 
 surprising contact the impression she left, the im- 
 pression of her beauty and of her boylike frankness 
 and generosity for boylike they were had been 
 strong. As wonder at the odd happening began to 
 mount, as I winced again at thought of the vicious 
 little blow I had struck, as I saw again the scarlet 
 thread on the smooth little chin, and then the smile 
 on the bruised lips, I felt the sudden tug of desire
 
 8 A Hand in the Game 
 
 that is so prompt of birth in young blood in April 
 yes, even in a snow- feathered April, which is an 
 abnormal thing and so may possess abnormal power 
 in its ever mysterious influences. And I wished an- 
 other card from the hand of the dealer just one 
 more that should make the rest worth while. 
 
 I did not know as I mounted the narrow wooden 
 stairs to the second floor of the two-story village 
 building, and stood before the door bearing the 
 name of the man she had mentioned I did not 
 know that the thing was already done; that already 
 I held the full hand with which I was to play my 
 game, that the first trick lay before me, and that 
 the stakes were to be life itself and the prize of my 
 dreams; I did not know that I had laid my wager 
 on the cloth and had no choice now but to play.
 
 CHAPTER II 
 A QUARREL ESPOUSED 
 
 T OPENED the door at the head of the stairs and 
 
 saw a bald, heavy-set, short-necked man stand- 
 ing in the midst of a dingy office strewn with a 
 strange chaos of books and papers. I stepped inside 
 and spoke the name on the envelope. I saw the 
 fat face of him puckered with wrath and a look so 
 sinister in his eyes that I thought of defense in the 
 first instant they turned on me. Then I gave the let- 
 ter into his outstretched hand, saw him tear it open, 
 read three lines and turn, livid with rage, upon me. 
 
 " And who in the fiend's name are you? " 
 
 I did not answer him. It was too thoroughly 
 surprising an insult. 
 
 ' You have the nerve to bring me this ? By the 
 Lord Harry, I have a notion to brain you ! " 
 
 I found my tongue. I was not built to take abuse. 
 It was amazing enough, but I saw no reason in that 
 for mild expostulation. 
 
 " Begin," I said to him briefly. 
 
 For answer he wheeled and caught up a heavy 
 walking-stick from the side of the big desk and 
 his voice bellowed out a great hoarse cry. 
 
 " Scancey ! " he shouted, a call to some aid or 
 
 9
 
 io A Hand in the Game 
 
 friend. " Scancey, come here ! He's sent a great 
 cub to add insult to injury ! Come here ! " 
 
 He whirled again and faced me, belligerent. I 
 was astounded, but my blood has never been slow 
 to heat and I do not love humility. It is not the part 
 of wisdom to strike first and seek explanation after- 
 wards, but I have had the name of doing so, and 
 when a man strikes me, or threatens, it is his to 
 explain. I stood still and waited. 
 
 " Who are you? " shouted the fellow, staring at 
 me now. " Isn't it enough that you've robbed us 
 without coming here to threaten more? Do you 
 think I don't understand your game ? " 
 
 Still I said nothing. I heard hurrying feet in an 
 inner office and a little chalk- faced, ferret-eyed man 
 came to the door I had hardly had time to notice 
 before. 
 
 " Who are you ? " he cried at me, like an echo of 
 the other. " Why are you here ? What have you 
 done?" 
 
 I turned out my hands toward the fat imbecile 
 before me. I did not answer the second better than 
 the first. I faced the pair of them with my fingers 
 already itching to crack their ugly heads together, 
 for they were ill-favored enough. 
 
 "Bain, what is it?" cried the small man in the 
 door. 
 
 The big fellow flung the note he held upon the 
 table behind him. " Read it yourself," he snarled. 
 Then to me, " Get out of here."
 
 A Quarrel Espoused n 
 
 " When you explain your insulting language." 
 
 "Get out of here do you hear?" he roared. 
 He took a stride forward and half raised his 
 stick. 
 
 " If you strike me with that stick, I'll throw you 
 out of the window," I said. I was growing hugely 
 excited and spoiling for the fight. 
 
 " Wait, Bain ! " cried the other man. " Wait ! 
 Don't be hasty. What does this mean ? " He had 
 picked up the sheet that had so mysteriously infuri- 
 ated his friend and read it in a glance. 
 
 " Did you bring this? " he asked of me. 
 
 I bowed. " I had the honor," I answered, with 
 impulse to irony now that my own wrath was rising. 
 
 " Do you know what is in it ? " 
 
 " I do not." 
 
 :t You lie ! " cried the man Bain fiercely. " I saw 
 you in the street with the Philbric girl. I saw you 
 coming here." 
 
 '' You have good eyes," I told him. 
 
 " So you're the new ally, are you ? " 
 
 " I'm the fellow who brought you that note and 
 whom you were about to thrash. I'm waiting for 
 you to begin." 
 
 " Hold on, Judson. Wait ! " put in the other man 
 sharply. " What is your name ? " he asked me with 
 a twisted effort at a propitiatory grimace. 
 
 " It has no bearing on the present case." 
 
 " It has." 
 
 " Well, my name is not Philbric," I answered.
 
 12 A Hand in the Game 
 
 " Did you come here to pick a fight ? " interrupted 
 the man Bain. 
 
 " I am not averse to one. But you are the man 
 who is inviting trouble." 
 
 "What do you call that?" He pointed back to 
 the letter in the other's grasp. 
 
 " It seems to be a red rag to you." 
 
 He yelled a curse. On the edge of explosion, he 
 let himself go and with the outburst he swung his 
 stick and aimed a smashing blow at me. 
 
 I stepped out of the circle of his reach. Then I 
 stepped in, after his savage swing and grappled with 
 him. I whirled him and caught his wrist as he 
 lifted his great club again. Then I seized his elbow 
 and turned it in and under with a trick I learned at 
 school and brought him to his knees, with his heavy 
 cane crashing to the floor. And he squealed like a 
 hurt puppy. 
 
 The other man raised a scream of alarm. He 
 scrambled to get something from a drawer that I 
 thought might be a gun. I stepped over my fallen 
 first opponent, seized the second by his shoulders 
 and sent him spinning against the glass doors of 
 a bookcase by the side-wall. He crashed into them 
 and spilled a thousand fragments jangling in wild 
 din upon the floor. Then I stooped and picked up 
 the weapon he would have used against me. It was 
 a magazine pistol. 
 
 The man Bain was still on his knees with his hand 
 clapped to the shoulder I had twisted. His eyes
 
 A Quarrel Espoused 13 
 
 were on me with malevolence burning in them like 
 something molten. His lips were white with his 
 passion. His coat was hunched up behind his ears 
 till it robbed him of even the appearance of a neck 
 and his fat body so crouched upon the rug that he 
 looked like a great pig. 
 
 I pocketed the gun. As I did so I saw the offend- 
 ing sheet of note-paper also on the floor at my feet. 
 I picked it up and glanced in sheer curiosity at its 
 contents. If ever a man had a right to read an- 
 other's letter I felt that I had earned mine. This is 
 what it contained : 
 
 " JUDSON BAIN, City. 
 
 " Sir: I have only commenced, as you will soon 
 discover. I know how to meet your attacks. I have 
 a new ally who can make it hot for you if you at- 
 tempt underhand methods. Be warned in time. 
 (Signed) " HAROLD PHILBRIC." 
 
 I folded the sheet carefully. It was only mys- 
 tery to me. It gave me no clue as to why I had 
 been involved except that some colossal misunder- 
 standing had arisen. But the brief scene of violence 
 had stirred me too deeply for me to be content to 
 withdraw now. It was only clear that the girl I 
 had met in the street through such an odd accident 
 was enmeshed in strange difficulty with two such 
 men as these to whose office she herself had sent me. 
 I could not contemplate them and my memory of 
 her and doubt as to which side might merit my al-
 
 14 A Hand in the Game 
 
 legiance. Anything I could do to embarrass this 
 pair could hardly fail to be a blow in her cause and 
 the prompting to it was urgent. 
 
 I stooped and handed the note again to Judson 
 Bain in pure spirit of mischief now. 
 
 " Don't forget that I delivered this," I said. 
 " Philbric may want to be sure." 
 
 He took the paper and held it before him. His 
 partner was picking himself lamely from the wreck 
 of the bookcases and nursing a cut on his hand. 
 
 " You'll pay a dear price for this, young man," 
 he volunteered, his face a shade whiter if possible 
 than before. But the odd gesture he used a sweep 
 of his hand that seemed to indicate all the havoc 
 that had previously been wrought in the office as 
 well as the wreck I had caused arrested my at- 
 tention. 
 
 " For this ? " I repeated, mimicking his move- 
 ment. "How so?" 
 
 ' You are clearly involved." 
 
 " I seem to be involved, but I did not start this 
 fight." 
 
 " It's not going to be hard to prove who robbed 
 this office last night, and why." 
 
 " And am I involved in that also ? It may prove 
 interesting to learn the extent to which I have 
 stepped into your affairs." 
 
 "You'll learn quickly enough." 
 
 " Let us hope so. But if you can learn anything 
 on your own part, you'd better take a lesson from
 
 A Quarrel Espoused 15 
 
 this first experience. I won't be so gentle next 
 time." 
 
 It was pure bravado this, of course. But I loved 
 to bait them then. I was utterly in the dark still 
 and the fault was not mine. Besides, the idea that 
 I was harassing an enemy of the girl I had seen, 
 however strange it might be that she should possess 
 such enemy, was beginning to be a joy to me. I 
 bethought me that I could further espouse her cause 
 if I chose by making much of this quarrel, and the 
 impulse became paramount. I stood still by the door 
 and drew out my pocketbook. Taking from it a 
 card I wrote the name of the small hotel across the 
 way upon it and laid it on a table by the door. 
 
 '' That will be my address for twenty-four hours," 
 I promised, at a hazard. " I shall spend my time 
 making it hot for you for the sort of thing you've 
 handed to me here this afternoon. Good-day." 
 
 I went out and down the stairs. I was so tre- 
 mendously, delightfully excited now, that I could 
 scarcely show a calm exterior as I stepped into the 
 street. Immediately, however, I forgot the effort, 
 for excitement was everywhere abroad. People 
 were gathering in a crowd. Everywhere there were 
 running figures coming toward the corner where I 
 stood. At the very bottom of the stairway a half 
 dozen men were gathered with every evidence of 
 interest in the doorway from which I came and in 
 the office above. I stepped almost into their midst 
 and they turned upon me as one.
 
 16 A Hand in the Game 
 
 "Where did you come from?" some one 
 asked. 
 
 The question seemed ludicrous enough to me. It 
 is only a step from the tragic to the comic and I 
 had been keyed almost to the former pitch a moment 
 before. I laughed outright. They stared at me as 
 if fairly aghast at my appearance. 
 
 " I have just visited Judson Bain and Mr. 
 Scancey," I answered. - 
 
 " Scancey ! " The exclamation was from three 
 or four at once. 
 
 " Certainly," said I. " Have you such a thing as 
 a policeman or a town officer here ? " 
 
 The crowd was pressing in. The people had eyes 
 for no one but me and they seemed possessed by 
 some tremendous interest far beyond any curiosity 
 that could have been roused by possible noise over- 
 heard from our brief fight above. 
 
 " Is Scancey up there? " asked a short, heavy-set 
 fellow with rather good brown eyes who pushed a 
 little forward. 
 
 " A man whom Bain calls Scancey is up there," 
 I replied. " He tried to pot me with this gun a mo- 
 ment ago." 
 
 I drew the magazine pistol from my pocket. 
 
 " Shot you? " exclaimed the chorus. 
 
 " Well, hardly," said I. " He meant to." 
 
 " Wheeler Scancey ? " queried the stocky man 
 with odd insistence. 
 
 " I don't know the man myself," I answered.
 
 A Quarrel Espoused 17 
 
 " He is a little chalk-faced chap who is too slow with 
 a gun to afford to make the play." 
 
 The questioner turned to the others. " Then it 
 isn't true! " he said. " If Scancey is here, he isn't 
 at The Hazels." 
 
 " That sounds reasonable," said I. " But where's 
 your constable? " 
 
 " I'm town marshal," he answered, turning back 
 to me. 
 
 ' Then take this gun and my complaint against 
 this Scancey and this Bain. I went to their office 
 on a peaceable errand for Miss Philbric, and they 
 tried pretty well to kill me." 
 
 "Philbric!" 
 
 Again they echoed the name I spoke. 
 
 "Are you a friend of the Philbrics?" cried a 
 tall fellow, who was not in the front rank. He was 
 a handsome well-dressed young chap of a different 
 class from the rougher men about me. 
 
 " I think I may fairly consider myself so," I said. 
 
 He pushed forward. " What do you know of 
 this shooting?" he asked. " Have you come from 
 the house? Did you see Donna here a few minutes 
 ago ? Are you the one who took her note ? " 
 
 I stared at him. "Shooting?" I repeated. 
 " There was no shooting. I took the gun away from 
 the little fool." 
 
 He stared at me in turn, as much puzzled by what 
 I answered as I at his questions. 
 
 " Who are you? " he asked.
 
 i8 A Hand in the Game 
 
 " My name is Dan Randall. I am the nephew of 
 the late John Randall, who if I mistake not was 
 known hereabouts," 
 
 My uncle had been one of the rich men of his 
 state. It was a safe guess that the people of his city 
 and suburbs were acquainted with his name and 
 fame though I knew them not and they knew not me. 
 
 "You are Dan Randall?" 
 
 I bowed. " And you ? " 
 
 But he did not answer the question. He put an- 
 other instead, while the crowding people and the 
 self-styled officer of the law hung upon his words 
 and mine. 
 
 " Were you at The Hazels when this shooting 
 occurred ? " he almost demanded of me. 
 
 It seemed time for plain speaking. If shooting 
 there had been and he appeared to insist upon it 
 there was another mystery forming here that needed 
 no half-answers to befog it further. 
 
 " I have not been to The Hazels," I said as ex- 
 plicitly as I could, " and I know of no shooting." 
 
 A general exclamation went up. I gazed around 
 the wide-eyed circle for explanation, but they looked 
 back at me in what seemed sheer stupid daze. But 
 the young chap who had usurped the place of ques- 
 tioner came closer and put his hand on my arm. 
 
 " This is a strange mix-up," he said. " I don't 
 understand and I don't believe you do. Did you 
 know that Hal Philbric killed a man at The Hazels 
 an hour half an hour ago? "
 
 A Quarrel Espoused 19 
 
 " No," said I simply. I had no thought to say 
 more, for my mind leaped to the girl I had seen. 
 Clearly this name Philbric was hers. Who the man 
 Harold or Hal might be, whether father or brother, 
 it was only possible to guess; but he was undoubt- 
 edly close to her. That something tragic had hap- 
 pened and that it concerned her nearly was too evi- 
 dent now to doubt. But as I remembered her sweet 
 face, despite the cloud of trouble I thought I had 
 detected upon it, I could read in it no sign of knowl- 
 edge of tragedy. 
 
 But the man before me pressed his queries. 
 " Didn't you talk with Donna ten minutes ago ? 
 They told me you were in the street with her." 
 
 " I was," I answered, piecing my information 
 swiftly together. " It was on her errand I came 
 over here." 
 
 " Then she did not know? " 
 
 " I don't believe it possible she could have known 
 anything so tragic," said I. 
 
 He looked searchingly in my eyes. He had a 
 fine eye of his own and a good keen look in it. He 
 was dark, well set-up, well-groomed a shade too 
 well-groomed was the impression I remembered of 
 him afterwards but a gentleman. 
 
 " Better come with me," he said abruptly. " I 
 have my car at the corner. We'll go out at once 
 when you've attended to your hurt." 
 
 "My hurt?" 
 
 " Yes. Your face is cut rather severely I
 
 2O A Hand in the Game 
 
 should think. Shall we go to the drug store here 
 and have it patched up? It should be done before 
 we go, though we'll take as little time as possible." 
 I put my hand up to my cheek and felt it wet. 
 I looked at my fingers and saw on them new stains 
 of red.
 
 CHAPTER III 
 UNKNOWN GROUND 
 
 CHANCE never does things by halves. I was 
 convinced that morning as I sat beside Bob 
 King in his motor while we dashed away together 
 down a spattery country road without regard to 
 water, mud, or speed laws. I had sent a wire to 
 the city to catch the baggage I had left in my train 
 and had taken him at his word. He introduced 
 himself. He was a friend, he said, of the Philbric 
 family. He vouchsafed no more than that, and 
 there was no reason why he should. I had told 
 him practically as much and as little on my own 
 part. But we had small wish to speak of person- 
 alities just then. Each took the other at his word 
 and on the evidence that eyes could collect and we 
 talked of the uppermost thing in our minds. 
 
 " I have little enough information," he said. 
 " The message came to me over the phone. But 
 nobody else knows more. It's been a strange series 
 of events and now it's come to tragedy." 
 
 ' Tell me all you've heard," I said guardedly. I 
 had no wish to make confession to him that an hour 
 earlier I had been the veriest stranger and outsider. 
 
 21
 
 22 A Hand in the Game 
 
 I was taking enough upon myself in venturing to 
 accompany him at his invitation to the home of the 
 Philbrics for which we were bound, but I had chosen 
 between this and tamely, uselessly remaining behind. 
 If you ask excuse or motive I cannot give you 
 better ones than that I felt I had found a plausi- 
 ble reason for offering my help in the quarrel in 
 which I had already been involved and the convic- 
 tion that the shooting at the Philbric country-seat 
 had directly to do with the case in which my after- 
 noon's fracas was now an incident. I had not long 
 to wait to learn the accuracy of that conjecture. 
 
 " Who is the man who was shot ? " I asked. 
 
 "That's the queer part," said King,. with scowl- 
 ing brows. " I heard first that it was Wheeler 
 Scancey. That was the impression that was general 
 in town. But you say you saw him." 
 
 " I have an impression that I did," said I grimly. 
 
 " Then the only thing I can think of to explain 
 it is that Hal's telephone message must have been 
 misunderstood. Something was certainly said about 
 Scancey." 
 
 "Did you know," asked I, "that the office of 
 Bain was robbed last night ? " 
 
 " Oh yes," said he. " It was the talk of the town 
 till this other news came." 
 
 " Is there any connection between the two ? " 
 
 He turned for an instant from his steadfast gaze 
 at the road ahead to look at me. " Connection ? " 
 he repeated.
 
 Unknown Ground 23 
 
 " Yes," said I. 
 
 " I don't know," he answered slowly. " Did any- 
 thing lead you to suppose so ? " 
 
 " Only coincidence. Philbric's note infuriated 
 Bain. I took the liberty of reading it after they 
 tried to beat me up and shoot me for bringing 
 it." 
 
 " What was in it ? " he asked eagerly. " I can't 
 imagine why that boy Hal should write to Bain. 
 I was to have taken the note for Donna, I suppose 
 you know ? " 
 
 He ended with the revealing question. The girl 
 had told me that I was a substitute messenger. 
 
 " Did you expect a fight? " I asked, smiling. 
 
 " Not at all. I thought it was an errand of peace- 
 making. Heaven knows there's been trouble 
 enough. But I meant to find out for Donna what 
 Hal intended before I took the note up to Bain. I 
 missed her, however and she gave the note to 
 you." 
 
 There was a sound that suggested pique in his 
 voice as he spoke the last sentence. I watched his 
 face. It was good, clean-cut, square- jawed the 
 countenance of a man. I liked him, though I had al- 
 ready scented here what I soon learned to be the 
 truth a truth that is not far to seek and that 
 stirred a strange thing in my heart from that mo- 
 ment as I thought of the loveliness of Donna Phil- 
 brie. But the expression on his face that went with 
 the words was fleeting and was gone in a moment.
 
 24 A Hand in the Game 
 
 " The note was a warning to Bain which seemed 
 to refer to some new method Philbric had found of 
 fighting him a new ally, it said. Bain took me for 
 the new ally." 
 
 " Are you ? " asked King abruptly. 
 
 " I'm an ally," I answered promptly. 
 
 " And Scancey tried to shoot, did he? " he asked 
 next moment, 
 
 " I suppose he thought it was self-defense or 
 defense of Bain. But the note made them wild 
 with rage at me. They talked to me of the robbery 
 of their office as if they fairly thought I was 
 guilty, with the implication that Philbric had to do 
 with it." 
 
 The car was scudding at a stiff pace between fields 
 where the tender new green of spring growths was 
 pushing through the light snow that had fallen upon 
 them. It was pretty country. It was going to be 
 beautiful when the young buds on tree and bush 
 should burst into leaf. It seemed a land of peace, 
 certainly, in the quiet of the balmy spring day, with 
 the sun now warm and bright turning the snow into 
 water. The impression of strange contrast was 
 strong as I looked off across the shining fields and 
 thought of the amazing errand on which I was now 
 engaged, while I felt the stiff surgeon's plaster across 
 my cheek-bone at the edge of my hair. I had been 
 close to injury, it appeared, and had come away 
 quite unconscious of the fact ; and now I was whirl- 
 ing off through a delightful countryside toward ex~
 
 Unknown Ground 25 
 
 perience of which I could make not the least reason- 
 able forecast except from the dismaying nature of 
 the news my companion had told. 
 
 King, however, was not content with quiet wait- 
 ing. " If they connected Hal with such a thing as 
 that office robbery they've lost something that would 
 be valuable to him. That seems a reasonable deduc- 
 tion, doesn't it ? " 
 
 " It does." 
 
 "If that thing would be valuable enough to Hal 
 so that it suggests itself as an object that would 
 tempt him to rifle their files, say it must and can 
 have to do only with Bain's senatorial aspirations 
 and Hal's fight against him." 
 
 I did not answer. This was unknown ground. 
 But he went on without noting my silence or merely 
 interpreting it as assent. 
 
 "Of course Hal is miles above such methods. 
 But somebody has robbed Bain unless this is a 
 scheme of his to get public sympathy. I believe he 
 is capable of any deception, don't you? " 
 
 " I should hardly be surprised at anything he 
 might do," said I. 
 
 " But suppose he has been robbed, what can be 
 the connection with this astounding thing at The 
 Hazels? " 
 
 A flash of suggestion from the matters he had 
 revealed came to me. " If a thing of value to Hal 
 in his war on Bain has been lost," I said slowly, " it 
 is not impossible that somebody else may have taken
 
 26 A Hand in the Game 
 
 it from Bain for Philbric's benefit." My mind in- 
 stantly leaped speculatively forward. "It is con- 
 ceivable that, in such a case the case that some 
 fellow had stolen something from Bain and offered 
 it to Philbric there might have arisen a quarrel 
 that would lead to a shooting." 
 
 King guided the humming machine round a cor- 
 ner at a rate that made me suddenly cling to pre- 
 serve my balance and sent us skidding fairly out 
 upon the snowy grass with a splashing of slush 
 from our wheels that sounded like a burst of escap- 
 ing steam. 
 
 " Yes," he said briefly, " that's what has hap- 
 pened." 
 
 " That's what certainly may have happened," I 
 amended. " I think it is not at all impossible that 
 there is a case of blackmail here." 
 
 " It sounds like it attempted blackmail. I only 
 hope " He stopped. 
 
 " You hope the shooting was in self-defense." 
 
 " Yes not in the heat of overwrought indigna- 
 tion. In Hal's condition he might well, he might 
 be rash if he were much stirred. Poor boy, I knew 
 this thing would be his undoing if he didn't give 
 it up. Of course his work has been simply amaz- 
 ingly clever for so young a man, and, naturally, 
 after the enormous stir he made at first it was hard 
 for his friends to spare him. But it's costing dear 
 now. No man with nerves in the shape his are, has 
 any right to carry on such a fight."
 
 Unknown Ground 27 
 
 I was silent again. Here was more unknown fact 
 hinted at. Was Philbric a sick man? 
 
 " The first question is," continued King, " who 
 is the man who is shot ? On that will depend Hal's 
 position." He paused a moment, then turned to 
 me again. " Frankly, Mr. Randall," he added, " I 
 am in distress with the fear of what's going to hap- 
 pen." 
 
 "Distressed?" 
 
 "Yes. Suppose they should be able to bring a 
 charge of murder against Hal Philbric?" 
 
 " You are anticipating." 
 
 "I know." 
 
 " Suppose it is self-defense? " 
 
 " Pray God it may be. But even so " 
 
 "What?" 
 
 " It will be a terrible burden on that poor boy's 
 mind. You know how little he can endure 
 now." 
 
 " I suppose," said I, quite in the dark, " that the 
 killing of a man is a wretched thing to have in your 
 memory even if you are innocent. Perhaps," I hesi- 
 tated, " perhaps our defense of Philbric may con- 
 sist largely of protection against himself." 
 
 This was a hazard, too, and I watched for its 
 effect. But my companion seemed to take me with- 
 out suspicion to be all that he himself was, a loyal 
 friend of these Philbrics. I liked him the more for 
 that not unnaturally. 
 
 " I suppose poor old Aunt Charlotte will be in a
 
 28 A Hand in the Game 
 
 pitiable state," he said after a moment more. " And 
 poor Donna ! " he added expressively. 
 
 " Did she come directly home? " I asked, feeling 
 for my ground. 
 
 " I suppose so. I thought we might overtake 
 her. But she drives like the wind when she wants 
 to hurry and I can imagine her hurry after that 
 news reached her." 
 
 We had run something like a mile since we left 
 the village. We were coming to the outskirts of 
 a wooded country that was visible from the town 
 and through which my train had come that morn- 
 ing. As I looked forward into the vista which 
 the road ahead entered, the sense of astonishment 
 at the thing that was happening to me came once 
 again strong as a physical sensation. But its effect 
 was stimulating, exhilarating. A battle worth while 
 might be ahead and it would be hard indeed if I 
 couldn't be given a share in it. Knight-errant I was, 
 to be sure adventuring soldier of fortune might 
 seem the complexion of my role to this girl and her 
 unfortunate brother; but I meant to make their 
 cause mine. I would not be denied. 
 
 At another turn of the road a fine white country 
 house, set high up and well back among the trees, 
 appeared for an instant on the left not far away. 
 In a moment we were running along by the side of 
 fences high and strong that bounded a wooded park- 
 like domain, suggesting only the private place. 
 I reached the natural conclusion that it was our
 
 Unknown Ground 29 
 
 destination just before my companion cut down his 
 speed and turned in under high iron gates upon a 
 private drive and we sped up a wide sweep with the 
 sputtering snap of gravel under our tires. 
 
 It was but a moment then before we came out 
 through the screen of trees and swept up to a good 
 old-fashioned covered porte cochere at the end of 
 a beautiful wide veranda where the April sun was 
 shining with dazzling brilliancy on boards and paths 
 alike. 
 
 There was little evidence of disturbance about 
 the place. Before King had stopped his engine two 
 servants were in the porch, one a gray-haired, 
 smooth-faced butler who was instantly recognizable 
 as the type of old family retainer, now major-domo 
 of the establishment; the other a younger man who 
 took charge of the car at once with a familiar word 
 of direction from its owner and started it off down 
 the drive for a garage visible through the trees at 
 the other end of a wide lawn. 
 
 "How's Hal, John?" asked King of the older 
 servant. 
 
 " He's a good deal wrought up, sir," replied the 
 man simply, without undue solemnity. 
 
 " Who's the fellow that that's shot ? " 
 
 " Clarence Salver, sir," answered the servant 
 promptly. 
 
 " Punk Salver ! " King's exclamation was sharp. 
 " The little devil ! " 
 
 Old John bowed. " He was that, sir."
 
 30 A Hand in the Game 
 
 "What brought him here, John?" 
 
 " He came to try to get money, sir," said the old 
 man, the first real sign of trouble showing in his 
 well-controlled visage. 
 
 "And he attacked Hal?" 
 
 " I I don't know that I can detail it exact, sir." 
 
 King paused in the porch. . ," Wait," he said. 
 " Tell us all about it, John, before we go in. Is 
 Donna here ? " 
 
 " Oh yes, sir. She came quite a few minutes 
 ago." 
 
 " When was the shooting and where ? " 
 
 " In the library at ten o'clock, sir." 
 
 "Ten o'clock!" 
 
 " Yes, sir. Master Hal wouldn't let any one 
 know except the doctor and us in the house, sir, till 
 the coroner and reporters came." 
 
 "Reporters?" 
 
 " Yes, sir. They've been and gone." 
 
 " Good Lord ! " exclaimed King, and my sympa- 
 thy went out to him as a vision of headlines and 
 family portraits flashed before my mind's eye. But 
 he wasted no time over it. 
 
 " What did the coroner say ? " 
 
 " Self-defense so far, sir." 
 
 "And Hal?" 
 
 " Is here." 
 
 "Donna with him?" 
 
 " Yes, sir and the doctor." 
 
 "Is he ill?"
 
 Unknown Ground 31 
 
 "He's pretty well used up, sir." 
 
 "Did he collapse?" 
 
 " Not exactly. He cried, sir like a child." 
 
 " Hysteria." 
 
 " I suppose so, sir. He's bad off with those 
 nerves of his, sir. It's a terrible pity this had to 
 happen." 
 
 " It is indeed. Now what happened, John? " 
 
 " It was about half-past nine, sir. I had just 
 come in from sending Miss Donna off in her car 
 to town. She had an errand to do and was in a 
 hurry, so she went alone. She had not been gone 
 more than three minutes I'm sure, sir, when that 
 little excuse me, sir that Clarence Salver, he 
 came." 
 
 The old man had cast a glance or two at me, half 
 curious. Now, he paused and looked at me and 
 then at King. King's brows went up in some sur- 
 prise. 
 
 " Why, you know Mr. Randall, don't you, 
 John? " he said. " Randall's one of Hal's friends. 
 Go ahead." 
 
 The servant seemed satisfied. " Well, sir," he 
 continued. " Salver you know he was a good-for- 
 nothing little loafer, sir God forgive me for say- 
 ing it, now he's dead." He stopped, his face paling 
 slowly. " My God, sir," he whispered, " he's dead ! 
 And Hal Master Hal killed him! Does it seem 
 possible ? " 
 
 He put his old hand rather tremblingly against
 
 32 A Hand in the Game 
 
 the brick of the house wall and wet his lips with 
 his tongue. Then he went on. 
 
 " He was no good that fellow," he said. 
 
 " He wasn't called Punk for nothing, John," said 
 King, putting his own hand kindly on the old man's 
 arm. 
 
 " He was not. Punk he was rotten to the heart. 
 Well, Punk Salver came to the front door here, sir, 
 at about 9 130, and asked me to let him see Master 
 Hal. I wouldn't at first, for I was pretty sure he 
 wanted money. But he kept insisting that he had 
 news about this senatorial fight, sir about Judson 
 Bain, that he must tell to Mr. Philbric. So finally 
 I let Master Hal know. I didn't half like it, for 
 the boy hasn't felt any too well lately. But Master 
 Hal insisted on seeing him as soon as he heard that 
 message." 
 
 The old man paused again. He crossed the porch 
 and seated himself upon the rail, taking hold of the 
 upright pillar as if to steady a feeling of weakness. 
 
 " I beg pardon, Mr. King and Mr. Randall, sir. 
 I can't help it. I'm near to sick myself with this 
 thing." 
 
 " Want to come in, John, and finish in there ? " 
 
 " No, thank you, sir. I better tell it out here. 
 Master Hal let him come into the library, sir, and 
 either he or Punk Salver shut the door. That 
 seemed queer to me. I I went and listened at the 
 door a little at first, sir, to hear what I could for 
 fear something might be wrong. But I heard Mas-
 
 Unknown Ground 33 
 
 ter Hal laugh and took it to be all right. So I 
 went about my work. And it was all of half an hour 
 after it was ten o'clock, sir, when all at once we 
 heard somebody call wild like through the house, 
 sir, and I ran in from the side lawn where I was 
 just then telling the gardener about Miss Donna's 
 roses. I was as far from the library as I could get 
 and still hear, I guess. And then while I was com- 
 ing up through the hall, hearing another shout and 
 the noise of scuffling or something, I suddenly heard 
 the sound of a shot." 
 
 The old man was panting with excitement now, 
 and stopped to recover his quiet. 
 
 " Take your time, John," said King. 
 
 I looked at him as he spoke and I saw his own 
 strong jaw hard set. 
 
 " Yes, sir," said the servant. " I'm foolish, sir, 
 but I can't seem to help it. I was scared for Master 
 Hal, sir." 
 
 " Of course you were." 
 
 "And I hurried so, sir, that I slipped like an old 
 fool on one of the rugs in the hall. You know 
 how easy it is to fall when one of those rugs goes 
 out from under you on a waxed floor, sir? And 
 before I was up there was another shot and a 
 screech! Lord, sir, it makes me sick to remember 
 it! And next minute when I reached the library 
 door I found it open and saw Master Hal coming 
 towards it with a pistol in his hand. And oh, his 
 eyes just blazed, Mr. King! "
 
 34 A Hand in the Game 
 
 " Yes," said King. " And then ? " 
 
 " And then I saw Punk Salver lying on the floor 
 all crumpled up, sir. He was right on the rug 
 before the fire. His knees were sort of doubled 
 up under him and his face flat on the hearth and his 
 hands were stretched out and one of them turned 
 up I shall never forget it, sir." 
 
 " What did Hal say ? " pursued King. 
 
 " He said, ' John, I've shot Punk Salver. He 
 tried to kill me.' " 
 
 " Said Punk tried to kill him? " 
 
 " Yes, sir. He said later on that Punk tried 
 first to shoot him and afterwards to brain him with 
 that bronze smoking-tray, sir that long one with 
 the heavy figures on it that Master Hal used on the 
 library table, sir." 
 
 " I know," said King. 
 
 "It was on the floor beside Punk, sir, when I 
 went in." 
 
 King looked at me. " It's not such a bad case, is 
 it?" he said. 
 
 " I don't know," I answered. " It wouldn't seem 
 so. But there were no witnesses." 
 
 " I'll take Hal's word for anything." 
 
 " Of course. So would I but will a jury? " 
 
 " It won't come to a jury." 
 
 " Oh yes, it will a coroner's jury." 
 
 " Did Hal send for the coroner, John ? " asked 
 King. 
 
 " No, sir. He sent me for Dr. Graham, sir, and
 
 Unknown Ground 35 
 
 then the doctor telephoned for the coroner. The 
 reporters they came with the coroner." 
 
 " I see," said King. " Did Hal talk to the re- 
 porters?" 
 
 " Yes, sir told them the whole thing." 
 
 King nodded. " Well then, what did Punk want 
 of Hal?" 
 
 " I don't rightly understand that, sir," said old 
 John. " It was something about some letters 
 some letters he stole from Judson Bain's office." 
 
 "Stole! Who stole?" 
 
 " Punk Salver, sir." 
 
 King and I exchanged glances of new compre- 
 hension. There was connection indeed between the 
 robbery of Bain's office, which was no fiction, and 
 what had occurred at The Hazels. But as we 
 paused while our minds followed out the clue there 
 was the sound of another step on the porch and I 
 looked up to see once more the girl I had first seen 
 that morning and into whose life I had taken so 
 strange a step.
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 A FIGHT FOR ITS OWN SAKE 
 
 SHE came towards us, a slender, sweet, beautiful 
 little vision of perfection in all that makes a 
 girl lovely at the threshold of womanhood. She 
 was somewhat pale, as was most natural, but she 
 was self-possessed and calm. She was certainly 
 not terrorized by what had occurred as many girls 
 would have been, though she could hardly be less 
 than deeply affected. 
 
 Hers was a frank welcome to us. She looked 
 first at King. 
 
 " Oh, Bob," she said, " I'm so glad you've come ! " 
 
 She put out her hand to him. Then she glanced 
 at me, her dark eyes coming to mine with a sweet 
 courage and faith in them that would have won 
 my allegiance then had it not been already hers. 
 
 " I brought Mr. Randall out with me," said King 
 fortuitously. " They had a fight in Bain's office 
 and he was hurt. It seems Bain's office was robbed 
 last night, Donna. That agrees with the story John 
 has just been telling us." 
 
 The girl's eyes had showed a little surprise at 
 sight of me, but she put out her hand immediately 
 to me as King spoke. 
 
 36
 
 A Fight for Its Own Sake 37 
 
 " You were hurt ? " she inquired with kindness 
 and perfect self-command. 
 
 " Nothing worth mentioning," answered I. It 
 was not so easy to think what my excuse for coming 
 here had been as I looked in her face and realized 
 the distress that must now be hers. " I thought it 
 might have some bearing on the case," I said. 
 " When we heard what had happened here we 
 thought we'd better get all the facts together." 
 
 King nodded. I held the girl's small hand, un- 
 gloved now, in mine for an instant. In that instant 
 the desire to earn the right to regard from her to 
 serve her and stand by her and protect her and hers 
 rose overmasteringly in me. Strange emotion, say 
 you, for a man who looks for the second time only 
 on a fair face? I do not analyze it. 
 
 r ' You are very kind," she said, " as you were this 
 morning." 
 
 She smiled a little. The bruise on her tender lip 
 was only faintly visible where my snowball had 
 struck its nasty little blow. I regarded it with 
 strangely mixed feelings now. It was the very basis 
 of my flimsy right to be here. 
 
 " John," said the girl to the old servant, " go and 
 have Mrs. Griggs give you some luncheon. She 
 tells me you have not eaten since early breakfast." 
 
 ' Thank you, miss," he said and turned away 
 from us willing to rest. 
 
 The girl led us into the wide hall of the great 
 house. " Hal is in the library," she said. " We can
 
 38 A Hand in the Game 
 
 see him presently. The sooner we talk this all over 
 the better for him I am sure. There's one very 
 strange feature of it that will need all our minds 
 I think." 
 
 "What? "asked King. 
 
 " Hal will tell you," she answered. " I'd rather 
 you heard the whole story from him. I may not 
 tell it right." 
 
 King was preceding us down the hall with the 
 ease of familiarity and with eagerness to learn the 
 rest. The girl paused to close the great front door 
 and I waited. As King went in at a door on 
 the right I turned to her sharply. 
 
 " Miss Philbric," I said on the impulse to be 
 wholly frank with her, " please forgive this intru- 
 sion. When I heard, I could not stay away. I am 
 an utter stranger without a right to a place among 
 your aids, but please do not refuse me that place. 
 It's been a mere chance that my way has crossed 
 yours at the time of your trouble, but it would be a 
 pity if I should merely pass on without being of 
 use. I have already a reason for enmity against 
 your enemy and your brother's. Let me be your 
 ally in any humble capacity." 
 
 She looked at me earnestly, a strangely long look 
 that could hardly be called scrutiny but that was 
 an examining gaze, too. She did not smile. Her 
 face had a pitifully pained look upon it. But I had 
 no cause for disappointment at the expression in 
 her eyes.
 
 A Fight for Its Own Sake 39 
 
 " You are a brave and kind and generous gentle- 
 man," she said. " You've been involved in trouble 
 already for us more serious than you have told 
 me. I had no idea I was sending you to that. But 
 I would be unkind, indeed, abruptly to refuse such 
 an offer as yours, though why should you take up 
 cudgels for us ? " 
 
 " Because I want to make amends for my offense 
 this morning. Because having met your enemy I 
 have my own grudge to nurse. Because I have al- 
 ready learned things that may be of use to you. 
 And because I love the fight for its own sake with 
 such companions in the fray." 
 
 She still looked into my eyes. " I like your hon- 
 est reasons," she said. " Come and meet my 
 brother. He will be glad to know you." 
 
 " I came with Mr. King in a manner under false 
 pretenses," I said. " He thinks I am an old friend 
 of the family because I let him persevere in that 
 error. With that clear to you I am ready to take 
 whatever place you give me." 
 
 She smiled. Something in word or tone ap- 
 pealed to her and there was more of frank freedom 
 in her look. " Your name is Randall, Bob 
 said?" 
 
 " Yes," said I. " I am the Daniel Randall who is 
 the sole surviving relative of John Randall, who 
 lived in your city here and whom you must have 
 known." 
 
 I stopped. Her eyes had widened again with
 
 40 A Hand in the Game 
 
 sudden surprise. " You are Dan Randall ? " she 
 asked. 
 
 They were almost identically the words King had 
 used. I wondered, but I confessed to the impeach- 
 ment while I thrilled at the sound of my name upon 
 her lips. 
 
 " Then," she said, " you are welcome." 
 
 I suppose I looked my surprise. 
 
 "Don't you know why?" she asked quickly. 
 Then suddenly she laughed a little short invol- 
 untary laugh, despite the gloom that overhung 
 her home, and in it I saw or heard something 
 that sent again the thrill of satisfaction through 
 me. 
 
 " You knew my uncle," I hazarded. 
 
 " I never saw him," she said. 
 
 That was the limit of my guesses. My life had 
 never touched hers of that I was sure till this 
 accidental meeting of the morning. 
 
 " I shall not tell you why now," she said. " But 
 I am glad you have come. It is all right that Bob 
 should think us old friends. Indeed, he knows it 
 now. We are." 
 
 It was too welcome a thing to balk at because it 
 was not clear. I took what she offered. 
 
 " I can play the part till I learn the secret," I 
 ventured. " I may as well confess I don't know 
 it now." 
 
 "Of course you don't," she said. " I should find 
 you out immediately if you pretended. But "
 
 A Fight for Its Own Sake 41 
 
 she hesitated an instant, then flashed a look of curi- 
 ous interest at me. " Isn't it strange ? " 
 
 " It is indeed," I answered. 
 
 She sobered almost instantly as thought of the 
 immediate present came back. But she did not show 
 sign of lack of courage as we walked down the 
 hall together. 
 
 " Come," she said, " there is plenty of need for 
 all the heads we can have on one mysterious feature 
 of this thing. If you can help us to solve that, Mr. 
 Randall, you will help indeed." 
 
 I followed her. We turned into a bright beautiful 
 room the same to which King had appeared to 
 precede us. It was a long library room on the west 
 side of the house and the afternoon sun was gilding 
 everything through the wide windows at the end. 
 In the center was a huge table of heavy mahogany 
 loaded with books and magazines. At the left was 
 a fire on a capacious hearth glowing cheerfully de- 
 spite the mildness of the day. Great easy leather 
 chairs were placed here and there about in luxuri- 
 ous abundance of comfort. Handsome rugs were 
 on the floor, vases, statuettes, a hundred and one 
 attractive nicknacks were on tables and shelves. In 
 the further corner at the right one of the windows 
 came to the floor and evidently led to the porch. 
 It was open. 
 
 Before the fire in a chair that faced it sat an 
 exceedingly handsome and very delicate-looking 
 young man. As I looked at him I fairly started with
 
 42 A Hand in the Game 
 
 amazement at the extraordinary likeness to the girl 
 at my side. No introduction would have been neces- 
 sary to proclaim the relationship between the two. 
 The resemblance was fairly startling. It was one 
 of those remarkable family likenesses in which 
 one face seems practically the counterpart of the 
 other, often seen in twins, not infrequently between 
 two brothers or two sisters of different ages. More 
 rarely is it found between brother and sister a year 
 or two apart. But I have never seen a resemblance 
 so complete, for, as the boy sat half buried in the 
 depths of his chair, his masculine dress less pro- 
 nouncedly in evidence than if he had been erect, it 
 was instantly the one thing that impressed me. 
 
 But the girl did not note my start and my sudden 
 comparison of the two faces. She went forward 
 quickly to her brother. 
 
 " Hal," she asked, " where's Bob?" 
 
 The boy looked up. There was a sharp start in 
 his movement and a crease of pain between his eyes 
 for an instant that told plainly enough at a glance 
 of the raw nerves I had been hearing about. 
 
 " Bob? Oh yes," he returned, after a glance at 
 us. " He's gone into the porch with the doctor to 
 make him tell how bad off I am." 
 
 He shivered slightly as he spoke. Then his hand 
 went out half fumblingly to the table and com- 
 menced turning over and over, rapidly, the ivory 
 paper-cutter that lay there. He glanced again at me 
 uneasily.
 
 A Fight for Its Own Sake 43 
 
 " This is some one whom we had not expected to 
 meet to-day, Hal," said the girl, alluding in puzzling 
 phrase to me. " This gentleman is Mr. Dan Ran- 
 dall." 
 
 She stopped short. She was smiling a little and 
 waiting for some effect she expected my name to 
 create. The boy sat up. Then slowly he rose from 
 his chair, his eyes fastened on my face. 
 
 "Dan Randall?" he said. He came forward 
 putting out his hand, his face relaxing into a smile 
 almost as sweet as the girl's. " You are Dan Ran- 
 dall?" he asked. 
 
 I took his hand. Poor chap, it was like a girl's in 
 its slenderness. But the grasp of it was firm and 
 hearty. 
 
 " I am Dan Randall," I answered him, more puz- 
 zled than before but with a leap of the heart less 
 hard to understand as I began to comprehend that 
 some strange unknown thing had preceded me here 
 to give me a footing in this house. 
 
 The boy suddenly turned to her and laughed in 
 such contrast to his distraught manner when I first 
 saw him that I could hardly credit it. " Dan Ran- 
 dall ! " he repeated. Then quickly he gave my hand 
 a renewed pressure. " Pardon me, Mr. Randall," 
 he said, " but I suppose you may know you do 
 know, don't you ? " 
 
 He paused. His sister came and stood beside him. 
 Her eyes were serious, but they regarded me with 
 queer question in them.
 
 44 A Hand in the Game 
 
 " He doesn't know, Hal," she said. 
 
 " Won't you solve the mystery for me? " I asked. 
 " I'm glad of anything that gives me a right to be 
 here at this moment, but I'd be glad to know what 
 it is." 
 
 The boy turned to his sister. His laugh had 
 sobered. He smiled still, but his eyes questioned 
 her. " Sis ? " he queried. 
 
 And then I saw a strange thing. Slowly the color 
 rose in the beautiful face of the girl. It climbed and 
 spread, a lovely flush upon her fair skin, and from 
 chin to brow her whole countenance became suf- 
 fused. It was the most beautiful thing I have ever 
 looked upon, yet my heart went out to her in pity 
 for the embarrassment that was evident. Still she 
 looked at me bravely. 
 
 " It must remain a mystery," she said with an 
 effort at lightness. 
 
 " It shall," said Philbric suddenly. He saw the 
 distress signal in her face and responded. " Ran- 
 dall," he said, " you come oddly introduced to us. 
 Perhaps we'll tell you sometime. But you come at a 
 a most troublous moment." 
 
 " Then let me stay and help. I've learned by 
 sheer accident about it all. Old friends have rights, 
 you know." 
 
 "It's a poor right to claim just now," said the 
 young man, returning to his chair and motioning 
 me to another. " But Heaven knows I seem to be 
 in need of my friends at this moment."
 
 A Fight for Its Own Sake 45 
 
 His face lost all of its lighter expression. I saw 
 the white line spread along the edge of his lips and 
 the blue pallor under his eyes. His hand trembled, 
 too, as he stretched it again to the table and began 
 once more to turn the paper-cutter. 
 
 " Mr. Randall knows all about what has hap- 
 pened, Hal," said the girl standing beside him, " ex- 
 cept what Clarence Salver came here for." 
 
 The boy's eyes turned to me, but as he was about 
 to speak King and another man, a short, stout, gray 
 old fellow, evidently the doctor, came in from the 
 porch. Philbric stopped as he heard their steps and 
 turned. King started to close the window. 
 
 " There is still a chill in the air if you don't move 
 about," he said lightly. 
 
 He fumbled with the catch on the window and 
 seemed to have some difficulty with it. 
 
 " This is a new sort of fastener, isn't it, Hal ? " 
 he asked. " I never noticed it before." 
 
 Philbric coughed sharply and I saw him shiver 
 again. " If Punk Salver had known how to work 
 it this morning he never would have been hurt," 
 he said with a painful hesitation before his final 
 word. 
 
 " Did he try to get out, Hal? " asked King. 
 
 " He certainly did. I'm confoundedly certain 
 about some of the details of this thing," answered 
 the boy, " and uncertain about others," he added. 
 He rested his head on one hand, but the other con- 
 tinued the rapid turning of the paper-knife.
 
 46 A Hand in the Game 
 
 " Better tell us all about it now, hadn't you, old 
 man? " said King, coming and sitting near Philbric 
 and giving the fire a poke. 
 
 " Yes," said the boy, " of course. Sit down, sis." 
 
 His sister passed him and came toward me. As 
 she did so she laid her hand on his busy fussing 
 fingers on the table and stilled them. He drew his 
 hand away sharply, then looked up at her and smiled 
 pitifully; and I looked at the fire that neither of 
 them might know I had seen the incident. 
 
 " Punk brought me some letters, Bob," said Phil- 
 bric. " He stole them last night from Judson 
 Bain's office." He turned to me. " King tells me 
 you found trouble at Bain's office this morning," 
 he added. 
 
 11 This afternoon," I corrected, smiling at him 
 with intent to hearten him. I saw a faint gleam of 
 response in his eyes. " They were robbed all right." 
 
 The boy's fist clenched and he uttered a sharp 
 exclamation to my complete amaze. 
 
 " My God, Doctor ! Doesn't that prove my 
 story?" 
 
 I looked at the physician for an explanation. He 
 was standing behind King. He nodded slightly, 
 then looked across at me. But Hal went on at once. 
 
 " I'll give you the whole of it as it happened 
 though," he said. " Punk came and brought those 
 letters. Now, Randall, you may not understand, but 
 Bain is a candidate for the Senate from this dis- 
 trict. He is a crook. Martin Fenelon, a man who
 
 A Fight for Its Own Sake 47 
 
 is clean and upright and decent and who was a 
 dear friend of my father up to the very day of 
 father's death, is also a candidate. Bain has been 
 doing crooked things ever since the campaign began 
 and I've been writing to the papers attacking him 
 because I know a lot about his record that he doesn't 
 like to have aired." 
 
 He paused and his hand went out restlessly for 
 the paper-cutter again. Donna glanced at him with 
 distress clouding her sweet brows, and he saw and 
 arrested the movement. Then he continued: 
 
 " Punk sent a fellow to see me last night who 
 told me that Bain was planning a dirty deal against 
 Fenelon and asked if I wanted to learn about it be- 
 fore he could spring it. I told the chap to tell Salver 
 yes, of course. The fellow, he was that little 
 hunchback, Garth, that hangs around the hotel sta- 
 bles in town, Bob, the hunchback promised that 
 Salver would come out here I haven't been well 
 enough to get into town would come out here, last 
 night. Salver didn't come and I got worried. I 
 believed Punk had learned something and I didn't 
 dare to wait. I tried to get hold of Fenelon, but he 
 was out of town. So this morning I wrote a note 
 of warning just a bluff to frighten Bain if I 
 could, till I could get hold of Salver's story. Donna 
 took the note to town, Mr. Randall, and King was 
 going to meet her and take it to Bain. King tells 
 me you chanced to become the messenger!" He 
 turned his fine eyes, so much like his sister's, again
 
 48 A Hand in the Game 
 
 upon me, and I nodded. The girl looked at me also, 
 but she was a little paler than she had been and she 
 did not smile. 
 
 " Well," said Philbric, " after Donna had gone 
 in fact she was scarcely out of sight of the house 
 Punk Salver turned up here. And he brought 
 with him a small bunch of correspondence." He 
 looked up at the physician. " Doctor Graham," he 
 said, " could I dream one part of a tale like this and 
 have the other part so painfully real? " 
 
 The doctor's brows drew together slightly, but he 
 answered promptly : " Don't take my chance ques- 
 tions so seriously, Hal." 
 
 " Well," went on the boy, " he did bring those 
 letters mysterious as it is and he showed them to 
 me; and of all the accursed plots to injure a good 
 man of which you ever heard, they revealed the 
 worst. They were absolutely incriminating evidence 
 against Judson Bain and Wheeler Scancey, too, of 
 conspiracy to ruin the reputation of Martin Fene- 
 lon by connecting him through a cleverly constructed 
 chain of circumstantial evidence with a a scandal 
 with the kind of scandal that sticks like pitch even 
 when a man can eventually prove his innocence." 
 
 King made an inarticulate exclamation but shook 
 his head when Hal turned toward him inquiringly. 
 
 " Of course Punk wanted to sell the letters to me. 
 He frankly acknowledged stealing them out of the 
 safe in Bain's office. He was a clever little piece 
 of villainy, was Salver, King."
 
 A Fight for Its Own Sake 49 
 
 " I know he was," answered the other. 
 
 " He worked for a safe-maker once, and he 
 learned enough about locks to to ruin him," said 
 Philbric soberly. " But I got mad at the manner 
 of the little blackmailer. He went to school here 
 in the village when I did and had known me all of 
 my life, but he talked to me about the theft and 
 about my buying the letters in a way to turn the 
 stomach of any man. And I talked sharp to him. 
 But I did not dream that he would or could resent 
 my epithets though they were harsh as he did. 
 He got mad, too, and grew abusive; and we went 
 from word to word into a regular quarrel. I acted 
 like a fool, I know, because my confounded nerves 
 are all out of control. But it came to a point finally 
 where he suddenly said he would not let me have 
 the letters for love or money but would go back 
 and sell them to Judson Bain, and he meant it." 
 
 Philbric rose from his chair and stood before the 
 hearth with his hands clasped behind him. He was 
 evidently striving for mastery of himself and any 
 one with an eye to observe could have seen what 
 was his malady. He was a victim of neurasthenia, 
 or close to it that dread affliction that is like the 
 quicksand in its treacherous engulfing grip, against 
 which most struggling is worse than vain. His im- 
 pulse to movement as he stood there in the midst 
 of his battle for self-control was evidenced in a 
 quick intermittent rising upon his toes, with the 
 strain of his tense nerves showing in every line of
 
 50 A Hand in the Game 
 
 his face and body. But he went on with his tale 
 almost without pause. 
 
 " I was furious then," he said, " and I made up 
 my mind that he should not get out of this house 
 with such evidence as that. He had kept possession 
 of the letters, you understand his hands upon them 
 every moment. 
 
 " Well, I told him that if he didn't give me the 
 letters I'd take them away from him; and then 
 things happened so fast I can hardly be sure of the 
 sequence. He tried to get out of that window and 
 couldn't master the latch. He could have broken 
 a pane, but the panes are small and he evidently saw 
 he couldn't escape through the space of one. The 
 other windows were impossible because of the book- 
 cases. But while he was fumbling I ran to the hall 
 door and yelled for John for help. I called half 
 a dozen times, I suppose, but nobody seemed to be 
 in hearing. Then I ran back and found Punk at 
 the library table drawer. 
 
 " I had a revolver in there but I had not thought 
 of it. How he knew it is past my rinding out. But 
 he drew out the gun and when I rushed at him he 
 fired at me. He missed me and I grabbed the pistol. 
 Even as weak as I am now I was too strong for 
 him, for he was a worn-out little bum and loafer, 
 you know. So I got the revolver. In the next sec- 
 ond, though, he seized that bronze ash-tray there 
 and swung it as a club and rushed at me. And he 
 would have smashed my head if I hadn't shot in
 
 A Fight for Its Own Sake 51 
 
 self-defense. It was self-defense, Bob. I swear 
 I kept my wits, for I was cooler than earlier. But 
 I hit the fellow in a vital spot. Good God ! I didn't 
 mean to do that ! " 
 
 He suddenly stopped and the very tears welled 
 up out of his eyes. Then he turned to the physician 
 again. " Doctor, it's exactly as I told you. He fell 
 right there on the rug only they've taken away the 
 one he fell on now and he hadn't gotten out of 
 my reach a single instant." 
 
 " Well," said King, " what about it ? He got shot 
 and deserved it. You fired in self-defense. Your 
 word will hardly be questioned." 
 
 I glanced at the physician. Something in his face 
 warned me that the tale was not yet all told. 
 
 The boy started forward at King's words. " No, 
 by Heaven ! " he cried. " How can they ? It was 
 self-defense ! " 
 
 " Well, don't excite yourself, Hal," said King. 
 
 I looked quickly at the girl, Donna. She was 
 sitting half on the edge of the table. She was lean- 
 ing forward breathless, gazing miserably at her 
 brother. Her hands were so tightly gripped on the 
 oak table-top that they had turned white across the 
 backs. 
 
 " Don't you believe me, Doctor?" cried the boy, 
 suddenly whirling again to Graham. 
 
 " I believe you tell the absolute truth," said the 
 physician, but in his tone was a qualification. 
 
 I forgot in my interest and concern that my right
 
 52 A Hand in the Game 
 
 to interfere was questionable. Involuntarily I 
 started up, looking at the doctor's face. 
 
 " Man," I said, " what's the matter? The boy's 
 story is straight and the circumstantial evidence is 
 abundant. This robbery occurred. Salver came 
 here with these letters. The bronze tray was on 
 the floor. Philbric's gun undoubtedly had two 
 empty chambers. There's a bullet-hole here some- 
 where in the wall or floor of course, and why, the 
 letters themselves are enough proof to support the 
 word of a man like Philbric." 
 
 The doctor looked at me with a curl of scorn on 
 his lips and I disliked the man from that moment 
 perhaps perfectly naturally. But his answer took 
 the heart out of me so suddenly that it was like a 
 blow in the face. 
 
 " There were three empty chambers in Philbric's 
 pistol, sir," he said. " There is no discoverable 
 bullet mark in walls, floor or ceiling of this room 
 and the letters the letters, sir, that Philbric thinks 
 that Philbric saw, have not been discovered. A 
 search has been made, from the pockets of the man 
 who brought them, to every inch of this room, which 
 he did not leave alive after showing them. It has 
 not revealed a shred of them. We searched Clar- 
 ence Salver's clothing to the last rag, and we went 
 over this room with the minutest care. The letters, 
 sir, which Hal says he saw cannot be found."
 
 CHAPTER V 
 A DAYLIGHT MYSTERY 
 
 T REMEMBER how the sunlight lay on the top 
 * of the mahogany table against which Donna 
 Philbric was leaning and how the reflection caught 
 me in the eyes as I turned to look at her after the 
 doctor's startling statement. It dazzled me and the 
 effect seemed for the moment like the effect of the 
 statement itself. Then I saw how the girl's eyes 
 fastened themselves on the physician's face with 
 such a question in them that I grasped the deeper 
 significance of what he had told the opinion he was 
 already inclining to that lay back of the immediate 
 mystery. And I thought I should never forgive 
 the man for the suggestion he allowed to enter her 
 mind and Hal's. 
 
 We sat and stood almost in a circle, the five of 
 us. The aunt whom King had mentioned had not 
 appeared. Donna, now at my right against the ta- 
 ble, Hal in the big chair next to her, then the doctor 
 standing and then King in one of the old-style 
 high-backed chairs that came away up above his 
 head. The fire was snapping on the hearth and 
 sending little curling wisps of smoke up the chim- 
 ney. Reflections from it, too, glowed redly in pol- 
 
 53
 
 54 A Hand in the Game 
 
 ished surfaces of chairs, andirons, vases, tiles. The 
 gold of the sunlight mingled with the deeper colors 
 of the firelight with wonderfully bright and cheer- 
 ful effect. And there we faced together the threat 
 of the most remarkable situation I have ever known. 
 
 My mind went rapidly over the story again the 
 moment it was concluded and the facts stood out 
 so clearly that I could find no flaw to alter the case 
 as it first loomed up in strange menace. Hal had 
 shot Salver. That he admitted, and the evidence 
 allowed no doubt of it. I did not doubt either that 
 every word of the boy's own story was true. But 
 the attitude that a jury might take toward this 
 thing was a matter to consider most assuredly, and 
 the doctor's addition to the boy's tale seemed to 
 have swept every vestige of supporting evidence 
 away from Philbric's story. 
 
 One's first instinct, when facts seem stubbornly un- 
 bendable to support belief, is toward angry rebellion. 
 Of course I questioned the doctor's facts. How 
 was it possible that the letters could have disap- 
 peared utterly if this Salver had never left the room 
 after showing them to Hal? He certainly would 
 not destroy them by throwing them into the grate. 
 And if he had not destroyed them only one thing 
 was possible. They were still in that room, no mat- 
 ter how carefully the search had been made. Also 
 if a revolver had been fired twice possibly three 
 times in a room the bullets must have made marks 
 somewhere. One had struck Salver. The other or
 
 A Daylight Mystery 55 
 
 others had struck something else. And yet the idea 
 that anything like a careful search for evidence had 
 been made and had resulted in finding nothing to 
 bear out the tale the boy told nothing but the fact 
 of Salver's death was, to say the least, startling. 
 
 It was the unmistakable meaning in the doctor's 
 queer looks, however, that roused my ire. He could 
 not have presented his theory more clearly in words 
 than he did in his implication. He had begun at 
 the very beginning by casting doubt upon Hal's cer- 
 tainty of memory and he had ended now with a 
 thing that he might as well have spoken out a sug- 
 gestion that the tale the boy told was a mixture of 
 fact and of hallucination. 
 
 Of course Philbric's condition gave color to this 
 idea and perhaps the scientific mind would naturally 
 lean toward such an explanation. It was conceiva- 
 ble that a man in a condition of serious nervous 
 disorder might be deceived in details in such a case. 
 But to my mind such an hypothesis to cover principal 
 facts in a case as vital as this was more than absurd. 
 No man could " dream," as Hal had expressed it, 
 that he saw such letters as Hal described and dream 
 it to such convincing effect as to precipitate a fatal 
 fight. Naturally, if one were to presuppose insanity 
 on Philbric's part, he might accept anything in the 
 way of erratic thought or action. But Philbric was 
 not insane, certainly, and the known facts supported 
 enough of his story to give all the weight of proba- 
 bility to the rest of it. Still and my own mind
 
 56 A Hand in the Game 
 
 hesitated here also a jury in court would have to 
 have something more tangible than probability. 
 
 I would not tolerate the physician's theory for 
 a moment. He appeared to me to be the sort of man 
 whom scientific knowledge had spoiled. He could 
 not allow any one else especially any lay person 
 to have an opinion on facts upon which his lore 
 might find a bearing. That was why my first atti- 
 tude toward the whole case was one of impatience 
 and disgust. I could scarcely wait decently for an 
 opportunity to propose a new search for facts. I 
 am of the sort who have to be shown a not always 
 admirable quality, I must confess but I like to see 
 things with my own eyes and feel them with my own 
 hands before yielding absolute credence. 
 
 But I had not long to wait, for Hal himself gave 
 us the chance. We had talked a half hour, I sup- 
 pose, since I had come in. The morning's events 
 had been a strain on the boy greater than a well 
 man can understand, I have no doubt. I could see 
 enough of the effects myself to know that there was 
 danger of injury being done him which would not 
 be readily repaired. But I could not anticipate the 
 effect that would show itself there and then in such 
 a way as to add most seriously to our problem. 
 
 We were discussing the story he had told, holding 
 it up in the light of each one's intelligence, in turn, 
 as it were. There was plenty to say. There were 
 questions to be asked and reasked, points to be gone 
 over, theories to be advanced and answered, and ten-
 
 A Daylight Mystery 57 
 
 tative suggestions for immediate action put forward. 
 I will not repeat them here. They simmered down 
 to the same thing and they changed not the main 
 facts. And it was in the very midst of it all that 
 Hal suddenly broke down. I did not see it coming. 
 Donna told me afterwards that she feared it. I was 
 quite unprepared and correspondingly shocked by 
 the thing when the young man for man he was 
 despite his youth and his illness gave way to the 
 strain. 
 
 It was simply a burst of tears. That doesn't 
 sound like much to concern one's self over in view 
 of all that is known and understood of hysteria. 
 But it is not pleasant to see another human being's 
 self-control broken and Philbric was of a type in 
 which it seemed to me peculiarly painful. When the 
 break came, suddenly, in the midst of our conversa- 
 tion, it seemed to me for the moment the most un- 
 real thing that had occurred. To see the keen-eyed, 
 intellectual, apparently clear-headed fellow who de- 
 spite his nervous symptoms had told us an extraor- 
 dinarily straight narrative of what had occurred 
 to see him suddenly bending his head into his hands 
 and sobbing, like a child that is hurt or like an emo- 
 tional girl, was a shock indeed. 
 
 It was very quick and the response from the sister 
 and from the doctor, who, to my thinking, had had 
 no small part in bringing it on, was instant. I 
 turned away. I could offer no help. King, I re- 
 member, went to the girl's assistance. I felt the first
 
 58 A Hand in the Game 
 
 return at that moment of my lost sense of strange- 
 ness in the house, which had dropped from me 
 quickly indeed. The only thing I could do was to 
 stand aside and let the intimate friends of the boy 
 care for him. 
 
 The fit of crying seemed uncontrollable for a 
 time and it eventually ended our joint discussion 
 of the case. The boy himself begged to be taken 
 away to the privacy of his own room and the doctor 
 approved of this. But Philbric was quite capable 
 of going unaided, though he could not stop the con- 
 vulsive weeping that held him in its grip. And so 
 they went out quickly together, the boy and his 
 physician and the sister whose face wore a look of 
 distress and dismay that weighed upon my spirit 
 heavily. 
 
 I liked King the better for the self-contained man- 
 liness of his attitude in this unhappy incident. He 
 was not too solicitous simply kind and strong. I 
 began to think that he was a fellow after my own 
 heart, the quick liking for him springing as readily 
 as my swift feeling of sympathy for the brother 
 and sister. If there was then underneath the sur- 
 face any sting in the fact that he very evidently 
 stood in the enviable position of close friend to the 
 sweet girl toward whom I could not but acknowl- 
 edge my own growing interest, I was not keenly con- 
 scious of it. 
 
 He remained with me when the three were gone 
 and our eyes met with mutual understanding. We
 
 A Daylight Mystery 59 
 
 exchanged no words on the immediate happening, 
 however. He shook his head ever so slightly. Then 
 without waiting he crossed to the mantel and rang 
 the bell for John. 
 
 The old man came promptly at the call. His 
 smooth old face was full of pain that indicated 
 clearly enough his knowledge of his young master's 
 condition; but King went sharply to work question- 
 ing him as a salutary antidote for the thing that 
 depressed us all. 
 
 " John," he began, " you were here when all this 
 searching took place. Tell Mr. Randall and me all 
 about it." 
 
 The old man looked with some relief from one 
 to the other of us. 
 
 " Well, Mr. King," he replied, " I expect Master 
 Hal has told you all of it. We searched. The 
 coroner and the doctor made the first search. Then 
 the officers the sheriff was here and the reporters 
 we all searched, sir. The first surprise came of 
 course when we couldn't locate the papers that Punk 
 Salver brought with him. We made our first look 
 for them." 
 
 " Did you think of the fire, John? " asked King. 
 
 ' Yes, sir, I did," answered the man. " I looked 
 
 in the grate almost the first thing when I knew the 
 
 letters were gone. The fire looked clean and clear 
 
 and not as if papers had been burned up on it." 
 
 " Of course coal has been put upon it since," sug- 
 gested King.
 
 60 A Hand in the Game 
 
 "Oh yes, sir. It's about five hours, sir, since 
 the shooting." 
 
 " Just so. Where else did you look ? " 
 " Well, sir, the men here looked everywhere, it 
 seems. But you know how it is it never satisfies 
 you for another person to look for a thing that you 
 want to find. So I looked, too. It may sound fool- 
 ish but it doesn't seem so either when you think 
 how queer this is, but I couldn't stop with the likely 
 places. I looked in the unlikely ones, too." 
 " What unlikely ones ? " 
 " Well, sir, I looked under the rugs." 
 " Good," said King. " That sounds thorough." 
 " Oh, the search was surely thorough, sir, though 
 I can't, for the life of me, think why the papers 
 haven't been found. I even looked behind the cur- 
 tains, sir, and back of the radiators. It occurred 
 to me that that little rascal, Salver, might have been 
 quick enough to think of some strangely good hiding 
 place with the idea of coming back later and com- 
 mitting another robbery to get his letters." 
 " He might." 
 
 " Yes, sir. It seems to me the only thing he 
 could have done. And he hid them well." 
 
 King walked across to the window where Salver 
 had made his attempt to escape. 
 
 " Hal says he tried first to get out, here," he said. 
 " Here's the place to begin." 
 
 I followed him. " I can imagine how those re- 
 porters scoured this room for evidence," I answered.
 
 A Daylight Mystery 61 
 
 I turned the lace curtains at the window and 
 looked them over from top to bottom while my mind 
 went over Philbric's account of just what had hap- 
 pened. 
 
 "Let's make a hunt on our own account," pur- 
 sued King. " Donna and Hal will be willing enough 
 to have us." 
 
 " Did you look in the table drawer where the gun 
 was, John? " I asked. 
 
 " Yes, sir," answered the servant. 
 
 " Where is the revolver now? " 
 
 " The coroner took it, sir." 
 
 " Did you look it over? " 
 
 " Yes, sir. They made me look at it for evidence' 
 sake, I suppose, sir." 
 
 " Three chambers were empty ? " asked King. 
 
 ' Three chambers had empty shells in them, sir, 
 as the doctor said." 
 
 " And the rest were loaded ? " asked I. 
 
 " With ball ca'tridge, sir." 
 
 " That seems queer," said King. " Three shots 
 fired and no trace of two of them." 
 
 " Philbric says only two were fired," I suggested. 
 
 " Well, the evidence is against him there." 
 
 " One shell may have been empty before," said I. 
 
 " That's what the coroner says," put in John. 
 " And Master Hal can't be sure that it wasn't so, 
 even though he thinks he is. He loaded the pistol 
 some days ago after he had used it to frighten away 
 a hawk that was flying around our chickens, sir,"
 
 62 A Hand in the Game 
 
 " Hal has some fancy chickens," explained King 
 to me. 
 
 " And the gun may not have been fully reloaded 
 after that shooting, sir," said the servant. 
 
 "Of course it may not." 
 
 " But two shots were fired here," I remarked. 
 " One was stopped by this thieving little black- 
 mailer. Where did the other go ?" 
 
 " That's one of the mysteries, sir," replied John. 
 
 " Where did Hal stand ? About here, didn't he ? " 
 asked King, placing himself near the door of the 
 library. 
 
 " No, sir. He says he ran forward toward Punk." 
 
 " Well, when Punk fired Hal was between him 
 and the door? " 
 
 " Yes, sir, according to his account." 
 
 " Well, Hal's accurate enough, it seems to me. 
 Now the bullet might have gone out of the door- 
 way." 
 
 " It might, sir," said John. " But there's a plain 
 wall on the opposite side of the hall and we've been 
 over it with the utmost care. There's no bullet- 
 hole there." 
 
 We were all examining the side and ceiling on 
 the wall in which was the door. For myself I 
 scanned it, from the tops of the low bookcases that 
 stood against the wainscot to the moulding and 
 around all sides of the door casing. The book- 
 cases themselves, with large glass doors intact, com- 
 ing flush to the floor in front and standing solidly
 
 A Daylight Mystery 63 
 
 together, showed that no pistol ball could have 
 touched them. John had told us that the revolver 
 was a light one, a thirty-two caliber, and the hole 
 such a ball would make might be easy to miss. Still, 
 as I looked over the papered wall and the door 
 casing I could see no place where such a mark could 
 hide. 
 
 The floor was of waxed hardwood. Rugs lay 
 upon it. King and I began pulling them about and 
 presently John was helping us ; and we were plunged 
 into a search so thorough that I would have taken 
 my oath at the end that we had not missed an inch 
 of that wall, ceiling or floor that could have been 
 marked by a bullet. I began to feel the oppression 
 of deepening mystery as we went over the story 
 and over the search again and again. It seemed 
 quite unexplainable. 
 
 We broke away from the quest for the bullet's 
 course after a time, however, and turned again to 
 look for a possible place of hiding for the letters. 
 There was only one theory to go upon in this, it 
 seemed, and that was that Salver had hidden them 
 somehow and somewhere during the brief moment 
 or two while Hal was out of the room calling to 
 John for help. That was the only conceivable ex- 
 planation of their disappearance. And the things we 
 did in that room before we finished that end of our 
 task are almost laughable. We looked in every book 
 in the cases at that end of the room. We looked 
 behind the books. We moved the cases out from
 
 64 A Hand in the Game 
 
 the wall and looked behind them. We looked be- 
 hind pictures on the wall, in the vases that stood 
 beside the fireplace, in the drawer of the table and 
 behind it in the recesses of the table's framework. I 
 even unscrewed the tops of the fire-screen's upright 
 frames, which were hollow tubing of brass, and 
 looked in them. One porcelain vase on a stand by 
 the window had so small a neck that it did not seem 
 possible any roll of letters could have been pushed 
 into it, yet we examined that, even getting a stiff 
 wire and bending it so that we could explore the 
 interior of the thing with it. Everything we could 
 think of we did, but the whole was fruitless. No 
 letters were to be found. 
 
 It seemed a bit uncanny, too, when Doctor Gra- 
 ham came back and joined us and told us then 
 how all this had been done before, how even the 
 tiles in the fireplace had been examined and the 
 chimneypiece above the reach of the blaze had been 
 searched. He described how he had found the body 
 of Salver lying on the floor where Philbric had had 
 the good sense to leave it after it was certain that the 
 man was dead. He added that the boy had shown 
 remarkable forethought in preserving such evidence 
 as there was in his favor, and it seemed so to me. 
 It was not more than ten minutes after the shoot- 
 ing that the doctor himself had arrived, for he had 
 been at home when John had telephoned and had 
 been the first to come into the place, except the 
 servant, after Philbric fired the fatal shot.
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 AN INHERITANCE WAITS 
 
 T ASKED a question about a matter that had not 
 been explained to me. 
 
 " What was in the letters ? What was the scandal 
 Bain and Scancey were trying to fasten on the Phil- 
 brics' friend?" 
 
 " Oh," answered the doctor, " they schemed to in- 
 volve Fenelon in a story that would connect him 
 with a young woman here in this village who has 
 recently gotten into trouble the most wretched of 
 woman's troubles." 
 
 " Would it be so easy to make such a thing 
 stick?" 
 
 ;< You remember what Hal said about it? " asked 
 King. " He expressed the truth. Such a story, if 
 cleverly started, would damage a man's reputation 
 were it wholly untrue." 
 
 " Hal said there was plenty of trumped-up cir- 
 cumstantial evidence," said Graham. 
 
 Of course this was secondary to our main matter 
 for concern, but it was a point to consider. It oc- 
 curred to me that the woman might know some- 
 thing that would be useful to us. I said so. 
 
 " The officers will look to that," said Graham. 
 65
 
 66 A Hand in the Game 
 
 " Barnaby, Philbric's lawyer, wouldn't even come 
 out here to see Hal till he had looked for her and 
 for the hunchback who brought Salver's first mes- 
 sage. He's after them now, no doubt. He'll be out 
 here to-night." 
 
 I felt again that the doctor scorned my sugges- 
 tions and took some satisfaction in showing me that 
 they were all anticipated. Indeed, I had the feeling 
 toward the man that he was inclined to block investi- 
 gation on my part and I resented it. Doubtless he 
 resented my presence there at all and perhaps he had 
 a right to, though, with Miss Donna's welcome and 
 King's friendly attitude, such a posture toward me 
 seemed to indicate mere ill humor. 
 
 We came to a sort of halt when we reached this 
 point in our conversation. We expected Miss Phil- 
 brie to return and she did not come. That was 
 something that served in a measure to suspend ac- 
 tion. The doctor discussed Philbric's condition 
 but neither King nor I asked him his theory as 
 to how far we could safely presume upon facts in 
 the boy's story as related. I was too much incensed 
 at the suggestion he had thrown out and King had 
 doubtless already heard his opinion in their talk on 
 the porch. 
 
 There seemed to be little finally for us to do. The 
 doctor announced his intention of remaining for a 
 time. King wished to return to town as soon as 
 possible and see the coroner and other officers and 
 to meet the lawyer, Barnaby, when he should arrive
 
 An Inheritance Waits 67 
 
 from the city, whither it had been ascertained he had 
 followed a clue to the whereabouts of the girl men- 
 tioned. 
 
 It was while I was asking him if he would not 
 make use of me in any way that would help the Phil- 
 brie cause that a maid came to the library door and 
 interrupted us with a message that surprised me. 
 
 "Mr. Randall? "she asked. 
 
 " This is Mr. Randall," said King promptly, indi- 
 cating me. 
 
 " Mr. Philbric wants to see you, sir," she said 
 quickly. 
 
 I looked at the doctor, then at King. It was. cer- 
 tainly a curious thing that the boy should send for 
 me. But King nodded promptly and I rose. I 
 followed the maid out into the wide hall and she 
 led me at once up the broad staircase to the floor 
 above. The afternoon sun was shining into win- 
 dows up there also, and the whole house seemed full 
 of light. It did not feel to me like a house of 
 shadow despite what had happened and I deter- 
 mined that the best thing for our poor nervous boy 
 was to let him think we felt no apprehensions. 
 
 The maid led me to a room not far from the head 
 of the stairs, and I found brother and sister to- 
 gether. The boy was seated in a big easy-chair by 
 the open window. He wore a great ulster-like coat 
 and his knees were covered with a rug. On his 
 head was a red-and-white knit skating cap that cov- 
 ered practically all of his hair. It was a garb he
 
 68 A Hand in the Game 
 
 wore, I later learned, when sitting in the porch or 
 in a room of which the windows were wide open as 
 was now the case. He seemed to have a terror of 
 cold. The boy was quiet now and I do not deny that 
 I felt a distinct pleasure again in the intimate rela- 
 tion into which the moment brought me. I was 
 welcomed with a simple friendliness that robbed me 
 of my fear of being considered the interloper. 
 
 " Hal wanted to see you," said Miss Donna sim- 
 ply as I entered. " Didn't the doctor tell you ? " 
 
 " No, he did not," I answered, and felt a sudden 
 accession of dislike and distrust for the man. 
 
 " That's odd," said the girl. She started to say 
 more but her brother broke in. 
 
 " Randall," he said quickly, " you came by a lucky 
 chance for me to-day. Where are you bound for ? " 
 
 " I was going up to the city," I answered him. 
 
 "You've been involuntarily plunged into this trou- 
 ble of ours and I'm sorry for it. But I wish I could 
 explain to you how much good you've done me." 
 
 I smiled. It sounded like the exaggerated en- 
 thusiasm of a boy. I was a little surprised, too, that 
 he could find voice or thought for it. But I did not 
 anticipate what was coming. 
 
 " Must you hurry on? " asked Philbric suddenly. 
 
 " I'm on the way to see my uncle's lawyers," I 
 explained. 
 
 " Oh yes. You are the heir, are you not? " said 
 the boy frankly. 
 
 " Yes."
 
 An Inheritance Waits 69 
 
 " Could that wait a few days ? I know it's an 
 unreasonable thing to ask, but I would give a good 
 deal if you could stay here with me with us. I'll 
 tell you why. It's perfectly easy to read in your 
 face and in your words that you believe me quite 
 sane." 
 
 " Sane ! " I exclaimed. " Why, man " 
 
 He held up his hand. " I know," he answered, 
 " but Doctor Graham has already doubted me, and 
 King knows enough of all the fool stunts I have 
 done in the last few weeks to bias him. I am sick 
 there's no doubt of that. But I'm not crazy and I 
 like a man at hand who believes I'm not." 
 
 I laughed. It sounded sane surely and my faith 
 rose with his request. Also my heart leaped and 
 then contracted again with a slow sense of guilt 
 as I realized what such an invitation meant to me 
 and why. I looked at the beautiful girl who sat 
 beside the boy and saw her eyes wide with appeal 
 to me, quite innocent of anything that could sug- 
 gest consciousness that I might feel temptation be- 
 cause of her. 
 
 " If you could stay it would be a real comfort to 
 Hal," she said. 
 
 " Well," said I, " there isn't a thing in the world 
 to hurry me of course. Frankly there is nothing 
 I would like better than to stay, particularly if I 
 can be of use to you. I'm a rank outsider but I don't 
 feel so, I assure you." 
 
 " It's extraordinary for me to ask such a thing,"
 
 yo A Hand in the Game 
 
 said Hal quickly. " But you can grant a whim of 
 a sick man, can't you ? I think you are the sort who 
 can do just that." 
 
 I assented. I could not have decided otherwise 
 if more had depended on my presence in the city 
 than the mere formalities of taking over my inheri- 
 tance. That would wait surely that would wait 
 while I stayed to play out my hand in the game into 
 which I had been drawn. 
 
 " I'll send a man up to the station in the city for 
 your luggage," said Philbric, and presently the thing 
 was done. And then, as much surprised at the turn 
 affairs had taken as any similarly placed being could 
 be, I began adjusting my ideas to the situation. 
 
 It was by a simple artifice that Donna got me 
 out of the room and into the hall with herself soon 
 after the invitation was given and accepted. She 
 suggested that she would show me the room that 
 would be mine that I might make free to come and 
 go. She said that she herself must attend now to 
 matters that had so far been neglected in the tur- 
 moil into which the house had been thrown, and I 
 suggested that I could remain with her brother till 
 she returned. I went with her, therefore, out of 
 the presence of Hal. In the hall she stopped me at 
 a little distance from his door. 
 
 " What do you think ? " she asked abruptly. 
 
 " I think we shall have little difficulty with this 
 case," I answered her. 
 
 I looked down into her lovely face, filled with her
 
 An Inheritance Waits 71 
 
 affectionate anxiety for her brother. In her beauty 
 I could not but delight, but it was not that alone that 
 made my vivid consciousness of her nearness to me 
 so sweet that I caught my very breath at the thrill 
 of it. 
 
 But she was not thinking of any such thing. She 
 was only dissatisfied with my answer and wanted 
 a better one. 
 
 " I mean what about Hal? " she persisted. 
 
 " He is safe," I said. 
 
 "Is he? Is he quite, quite safe?" Her voice 
 sank to a whisper and she seemed to forget entirely 
 that I was but a stranger. 
 
 "Of course," said I. " People are human beings. 
 The authorities will recognize exactly what we do, 
 and whether we find all the supporting evidence we 
 desire for the boy's story or not, everybody is bound 
 to take the same view." 
 
 " Doctor Graham thinks he suggests that per- 
 haps Hal doesn't remember all the details," she mur- 
 mured. 
 
 " Doctor Graham believes his story to be entirely 
 true." 
 
 ' Yes, he says so. But he means that he believes 
 that Hal thinks it is all true. Hal is telling what he 
 believes are all the facts." 
 
 " Hal is telling the facts," I asserted. She was 
 tremulous in her anxiety. Indeed, she showed now 
 more of the shock that had come to her from the 
 terrible happening than she had shown at all, and
 
 72 A Hand in the Game 
 
 I who had looked with a man's eyes on the thing 
 began to realize as I had not before just how awful 
 the tragedy must appear to her. I was confident 
 too confident that Hal Philbric would have no 
 difficulty to prove the facts he had related to us, but 
 I felt a truer sympathy for the girl then than 
 before. 
 
 " And you don't think as the doctor does ? " she 
 asked. 
 
 Her eyes were almost piteously pleading. 
 
 " I think," I began, and then I hesitated. I be- 
 lieved the doctor's suggestion that there was any 
 question of Philbric's clarity of recollection was ri- 
 diculous and I wanted to say so. But I remembered 
 that he was the family physician and paused. In- 
 stantly she misunderstood. 
 
 "Don't you think," she whispered, "that Hal 
 knows ? " Suddenly her hand came out and caught 
 my arm with a hard little clasp. " Don't you think 
 he is he is sane ? " 
 
 Her touch went through me like an electric shock. 
 I felt it to the last fiber of me. I stood looking 
 down upon her, there in the light of the late after- 
 noon sun which touched her dark hair with the glow 
 of rich color till it seemed like a glory to her, and 
 I saw that hers was a wonderful perfection. I 
 knew not how it was or why, but I could not com- 
 mand the feeling that was rising in me toward this 
 girl. I could only hold in check the expression that 
 passion ever rushes compellingly to the lips, and
 
 An Inheritance Waits 73 
 
 cover as I might the signs that I had no right to 
 show. I looked her in the eyes and answered. 
 
 " Your brother is as sane as you or I," I told her. 
 
 A moment more and she had pointed out to me 
 the room that was mine, had left me at the door 
 and was gone, and I stood looking from a high 
 window down upon the buds of the maple trees 
 and wondering if I myself could claim sanity at all, 
 or if my own brain had not suddenly run mad to 
 hold the thoughts that were rioting there. 
 
 It was minutes before I could go back to Philbric. 
 When I did the boy's bright eyes were eagerly 
 watchful to greet me. 
 
 " I'm a fool, I suppose," he said, with ready ease 
 of confidence that seemed to me to promise well for 
 better self-control presently. " I'm a fool to take 
 what Doctor Graham said so literally and to build 
 imaginings out of it. He suggested that I might 
 have mixed real and unreal in my excitement and 
 it frightened me." 
 
 " It shouldn't." 
 
 " No. But I've been afraid sometimes that I 
 could not keep the upper hand when things tried my 
 nerves very much. I made an exhibition of myself 
 just now. You can see how serious it is." 
 
 He was very calm in speaking of it. He seemed 
 almost not to care that he had so broken down. 
 But as I glanced at his hands I saw them tightly 
 clasped on his knees almost as if they were wrung 
 together.
 
 74 A Hand in the Game 
 
 " I sympathize with you, my dear boy," I told 
 him. " But I believe you are quite as perfectly pos- 
 sessed of your full and complete faculties as any of 
 us ever are." 
 
 " That's what I felt sure of about you, Randall. 
 It's a very strange thing your coming here so. But 
 I'm downright thankful for it. It's a whim maybe 
 that I want you, but I feel more strongly than I can 
 tell you that you can help me." 
 
 " Good," said I. 
 
 " It's a strange thing to feel the responsibility 
 for the death of a man. I feel it very keenly. I am 
 uncomfortably aware of the figure of that poor little 
 dead bum down there on the library rug who died 
 because I shot him. Can you wonder that I like to 
 feel that a man like you believes I am quite right 
 in my mind when I have that clinging image in 
 my brain and have to set up as a shield my memory 
 of the reason why I killed him?" 
 
 He still spoke quite calmly but his words con- 
 veyed a sense of his feeling that was startling. I 
 felt the stir of a newer anxiety about him of which 
 I had not thought before. But I answered brashly, 
 " If I had shot a man in self-defense a burglar, 
 a highwayman I would worry little about it." 
 
 He looked at me long and steadily, then he shook 
 his head, and his smile came back a little. 
 
 "Strange, strange ! " he said. " Dan Randall ! 
 You are Dan Randall ! " 
 
 I laughed. " You are determined to make a mys-
 
 An Inheritance Waits 75 
 
 tery of this for me," I said. " When have you 
 known me? In some former life? I've certainly 
 never made reputation enough anywhere in this for 
 you to have heard of me." 
 
 His smile continued. " You little know," he said. 
 
 We were quiet for a moment, and then the boy 
 abruptly turned his head. " Do you know," he said, 
 " I believe I could sleep. I haven't slept well for 
 some time at night and my best time is mid-after- 
 noon. I'm rather done up, but your promise to stay 
 has done a lot to quiet my jumping nerves. Would 
 you mind if I slept? " 
 
 "Of course not. Take a nap and we'll all fall 
 to and settle this thing when you wake up," said I. 
 
 ' You go down and talk to Donna and to the 
 doctor and King again," he said. " King is a fine 
 chap, Randall," he added rather suddenly. 
 
 " He looks it," I answered. 
 
 " And you," said the boy, " you look just as I 
 might have expected you would only better. Ran- 
 dall, this will be the beginning of acquaintance for 
 you, but we know you already." 
 
 It was as if he meant to draw a question, but I 
 would not ask another. I rose and walked toward 
 the door. " Sleep up, old fellow," I said. " I'll call 
 on you later." 
 
 He closed his eyes and nodded languidly. I stood 
 a moment watching him. Then I turned to the 
 stairway. 
 
 I went downstairs rather slowly. I was much
 
 76 A Hand in the Game 
 
 more stirred by all the long day's occurrences than 
 I had cared to show to Philbric. Each review of 
 what I had already experienced that day made me 
 wonder more at the strangeness of it. I began to 
 be half superstitiously of the opinion that fortune 
 had indeed flung me a special gift and whimsically 
 cherished the notion that further favor was to be 
 mine. I was absorbed in thought of it as I ap- 
 proached the library door, thinking how much of 
 what Hal had said I should tell to his sister, when, 
 as I reached the threshold, I heard low voices 
 within. Before I became conscious of intrusion I 
 had looked up and had seen, not the two men I 
 had left, but a man and a girl standing by the 
 hearth-mantel. They were close together, the girl 
 with her back against the marble, the other tall, 
 handsome, black-haired fellow that he was, a fine 
 figure of a man standing before her, his hand upon 
 her very shoulder. And I heard the murmur of 
 Donna Philbric's voice distinctly, as, quite uncon- 
 scious of my sudden coming, she stood looking ear- 
 nestly up into Robert King's face. 
 
 " Please not now, Bob. Please don't not now," 
 she was saying. 
 
 I turned away swiftly and crossed to the billiard 
 room across the great hall. There I walked to the 
 window and looked out upon the sunlit lawn and 
 felt a pain like a physical agony grip the heart 
 of me.
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 THRUST UNDER GUARD 
 
 THE papers had it that night a blazing three- 
 column head in most of them with Hal's pic- 
 ture, obtained by unexplained means, and his story 
 dressed up in all the newswriter's most dramatic 
 terms. 
 
 The flaring sheets came out to us on the early 
 evening trains and John brought me a copy with my 
 bags, which had been found and brought out also. 
 I was alone in my own room after a wandering 
 walk in the grounds and then a longer tramp on 
 the country-road in an effort to avoid immediate 
 meeting again with Donna and to keep out of reach 
 of the doctor. 
 
 King had gone up to the city, I learned from the 
 servant, and later he had telephoned that he had 
 met Barnaby, but that neither of them would come 
 out that night, because of work to do there. This 
 seemed odd to me, but I gave very little attention to 
 it at the time; neither did I read the newspaper's 
 account of our story for the simple reason that Hal 
 sent for me soon after the sheet came and I did 
 not want to take the thing with me to him. When 
 he asked about the papers, too, I advised him not to 
 
 77
 
 78 A Hand in the Game 
 
 read them till next day, and Donna herself avoided 
 them. So it happened that we did not get the full 
 significance of the tale in its public telling at once. 
 
 We spent the evening together. Doctor Graham 
 took himself off early, much to my own satisfaction, 
 for I had come to look upon him in the light of an 
 antagonist at every point. But the aunt of whom 
 I had heard joined us after a day spent in her room, 
 and I was almost as sorry to have her about, for 
 she was a nervous, anxious, fussy body who could 
 have but a poor effect on Hal. 
 
 I gathered quickly from conversation now de- 
 tails of the family's circumstances with which I was 
 unacquainted. Father and mother were dead. 
 Aunt Charlotte, as they called her, was the father's 
 sister and had lived for years with the children, who 
 were amply provided with money from their fa- 
 ther's estate. Indeed, the possessions of the family 
 were unmistakably large, so chance remarks indi- 
 cated plainly. Hal had been away at school up to 
 the time of an illness the year before when a fever 
 had pulled him down badly. He had afterwards suf- 
 fered severely with what had been called by Doctor 
 Graham a condition bordering on nervous prostra- 
 tion. He had partially recovered again in time to 
 take a hand in Fenelon's campaign for the senator- 
 ship in which he was ardently interested, and he 
 spent himself in writing material for campaign and 
 for the papers in active fight against the man 
 Bain. He was now suffering more heavily for
 
 Thrust Under Guard 79 
 
 his overwork and was unquestionably in a serious 
 condition. 
 
 There were all the contradictions both in appear- 
 ance and in capacity at different hours that show 
 themselves in cases of his kind. He did not always 
 look like a sick man. He was in good flesh and had 
 good color, and, except in times of greatest stress, 
 he did not show very plainly the abnormal symp- 
 toms of his malady. But that he was wretchedly 
 weak with that peculiarly treacherous weakness of 
 undermined nervous force was clear enough. Un- 
 der the circumstances it was peculiarly unfortunate 
 that the thing which had come upon him should have 
 occurred. It would have been hard enough for any 
 normally strong and healthy man to have such a 
 break in the peace of his life and to be loaded with 
 such a weight of responsibility. The thing was 
 worse than a misfortune to this boy; I could see 
 that it was a menace upon his immediate future. 
 
 It would be hard to keep up his spirits, I fully 
 understood, as we talked together that night, and 
 so I tried to cheer them all. We made an attempt 
 to keep away from discussion of the day's events, 
 which was, of course, fruitless. Aunt Charlotte 
 must needs tell reminiscences of Punk Salver, who 
 had been a ne'er-do-well of the village from Hal's 
 boyhood. Hal could not but dwell morbidly on the 
 doctor's cursed suggestion as to the completeness of 
 his command of his faculties at the time of the 
 shooting, and Donna herself was so over weighed
 
 80 A Hand in the Game 
 
 with the sense of the tragedy that she became rather 
 distraught. I attempted to hearten them by hard 
 common sense, arguing the obvious things I had 
 argued before. 
 
 But we spent a rather painful evening, and when 
 I went to my room at the end of it I was even a 
 trifle depressed myself. 
 
 But morning brought a situation that I, at least, 
 had not anticipated, and a development of the 
 case that was startling enough. Remembering my 
 promise to Judson Bain, made at the time of the 
 clash in his office, I had telephoned in to the little 
 suburban hotel at Hazelhurst, as the town was 
 called, that I would be at the Philbric home in case 
 I was wanted. I had not heard from my antagonist 
 who had so rudely started me upon the path I was 
 now not unwillingly traveling. But when I de- 
 scended to the library after John's call had roused 
 me to the new day, I found King and Barnaby there 
 before me with news indeed. 
 
 They had the morning papers, and prominent on 
 the first page I found my own part in the day's 
 affairs set forth in surprising fashion. Briefly, I 
 was charged with assault upon Bain and Scancey in 
 their offices at Hazelhurst. Of course the affair 
 was associated with the Philbric case and the shoot- 
 ing of Punk Salver, but, as my clash with Bain had 
 occurred before news of the shooting of Salver had 
 reached the town, there was more or less of a mys- 
 tery made of this also.
 
 Thrust Under Guard 81 
 
 The story about my fracas was from Bain and 
 Scancey, of course, and why no legal proceedings 
 had been started against me I was at first at a loss 
 to understand. But when I turned from the story 
 of my affair to the latest on Philbric's, I myself 
 almost forgot the thing. Barnaby, who was a stout, 
 gray, competent-looking fellow of thirty-eight or so, 
 slightly bald but otherwise looking more pugnacious 
 than studious, called my attention to the seriousness 
 of the new aspect upon the case before I had had 
 time to grasp it, however. 
 
 " Hal has put a weapon into Bain's hands now," 
 he said laconically. 
 
 " How so? " I asked, as I endeavored to get all 
 the meaning of the headings in one eager glance. 
 
 " He's played straight into Bain's hands," said 
 King. 
 
 " If he had only waited before talking," said the 
 lawyer, " we'd have a simple case with nothing to 
 prove but that the boy killed Salver in self-defense, 
 and with nobody deeply interested 'to prove the op- 
 posite." 
 
 My eyes lighted on a line in the paper's headings 
 that held them fixed and made me gasp. 
 
 " You mean " I began. 
 
 " I mean that Bain has now, of course, every rea- 
 son on earth for endeavoring to prove Philbric's 
 story false." 
 
 " And he will attempt it? " 
 
 " He has commenced."
 
 82 A Hand in the Game 
 
 " He has denied the story of the letters," said 
 King. " He talks wildly too wildly for the pa- 
 pers to quote him exactly. They don't dare yet. 
 But they will to-day. Randall, Bain charges mur- 
 der against our boy and he has undertaken to stand 
 as accuser." 
 
 It was the line I had seen in the paper. 
 
 " But they can't support such a charge," I an- 
 swered, half combatively even toward these friends 
 of my friends. 
 
 " What they might do with the simple murder 
 charge is also an open question," said Barnaby. 
 " But they have made a clever story that is going 
 to be terribly hard to fight. They claim that they 
 themselves sent Salver to Hal with a verbal mes- 
 sage warning him to retract certain statements he 
 had made in the papers." 
 
 I dropped the paper. The story was being more 
 succinctly told by the lawyer. 
 
 "They claim to have sent Punk Salver?" 
 
 " Yes. They admit that their office was robbed 
 but claim now that it was only an incident a coin- 
 cidence, perhaps. But they say, and they mean to 
 push the charge, that Philbric's story of the letters 
 alleged to reveal a conspiracy on their part against 
 Fenelon is a pure creation of Philbric's brain." 
 
 " They have that opportunity," said I. 
 
 " They have, indeed," exclaimed King, with more 
 excitement than I had seen him show. " But they 
 have taken the cleverest possible way and the most
 
 Thrust Under Guard 83 
 
 damnable. They do not charge that a boy of the 
 family and reputation of Hal Philbric is a common 
 liar and a wilful murderer. They take far more 
 dangerous ground than that. They charge, Randall, 
 that our boy is insane." 
 
 I can scarcely describe the shock of the thing 
 to me. I shall not try. I was without words to 
 reply and I listened to the lawyer's summing up 
 of the points in the case with a sickening realization 
 that the situation was simply overwhelming. 
 
 " Hal has been sick a long time with serious 
 nervous symptoms," said Barnaby. " Everybody 
 knows that. He has been an enemy of Bain's and 
 his most recent breakdown has come because of 
 his intense activity in the campaign against the man. 
 People would not readily credit crime from a boy 
 like Hal. They would not be surprised that his 
 mind was affected. There isn't one particle of 
 proof yet to support Hal's own statement of what 
 brought Clarence Salver here yesterday, and 
 Scancey it's he who is the clever one is smooth 
 enough to seize instantly the opportunity to make 
 the insanity charge still more plausible by claiming 
 that Punk was their agent, and that they knew per- 
 fectly well his errand here. Punk will never give 
 his evidence. The girl whose name was coupled 
 with Fenelon's by Bain's scheme has disappeared 
 and so has the hunchback who brought Punk Sal- 
 ver's message to Hal. We can't find them." 
 
 " It's fiendishly ingenious," said King.
 
 84 A Hand in the Game 
 
 " It's that," said the lawyer. 
 
 " But the very worst of it is," said King, " that 
 the effect on Hal himself may be may be dis- 
 astrous." 
 
 He looked up at me. His eyes were of the kind 
 so black that retina and pupil are scarcely distin- 
 guishable from each other. I remember how they 
 glittered with a light that made me love his spirit 
 as he spoke, for if ever a look showed fight his did 
 at the instant. He was the man who had stepped 
 between me and a mad new-sprung hope, but at that 
 instant I felt drawn to him in a way I have been 
 attracted to few men. He was an element to count 
 on in this fight and fight it was to be; and I felt 
 the sudden stir of my blood against disheartenment 
 that his words might have brought. 
 
 But it was far too serious a suggestion he made 
 to be ignored. Philbric was already worried by 
 Doctor Graham's strangely inconsiderate questions, 
 which seemed to be positively unprofessional. 
 What might be the effect of a pressing of Bain's 
 charge of an actual inquiry into the boy's sanity 
 forced by the men who had every interest in prov- 
 ing him insane? I am not exactly a weakling. I 
 am accounted strong. But I felt like a man whose 
 enemy has caught him under his guard, when first 
 full realization of the case came to me. 
 
 But I had not much chance to mingle in the coun- 
 cils of the family that morning. My immunity 
 from the consequences of the battle in Bain's office
 
 Thrust Under Guard 85 
 
 was to be short indeed. And it was even while 
 we sat there, the lawyer, King and I, that the town 
 marshal, my friend of the day before, arrived at 
 the house with a request that I go with him to 
 answer to the charge lodged against me. He had 
 a warrant for me in fact, and it had only been due 
 to a neglect of my message to the hotel that I had 
 not heard from the case the day before. 
 
 I welcomed the officer's coming. It would give 
 me early chance of facing Bain again, I thought, and 
 there were few things I so much wanted now. I 
 had made no formal charge against him the day 
 before but I would now, and I meant to make it 
 so hot for him that he would have things to think 
 of besides Hal. I hoped there would be trouble in- 
 deed at the justice's court when I should arrive, and 
 I was instantly eager to be off. 
 
 Both King and Barnaby were surprised at Bain's 
 action, but Barnaby was prompt to call up a lawyer 
 who was associated with himself in Hazelhurst, and 
 ask him to accompany me to my hearing. He him- 
 self had enough to do with Hal's affair. I would 
 not hear of King's going with me, either, though 
 he offered to do so. It seemed best to me, too, to 
 go at once and get this officer and this complication 
 out of the house before Donna and Hal appeared. 
 They would have enough to think of when they 
 should learn of Bain's move against them. And 
 so I told King. He agreed with me, but the urgency 
 of his request that I return as soon as I could ar-
 
 86 A Hand in the Game 
 
 range bond which he himself offered to supply if 
 necessary was strong. I promised, and, in a quar- 
 ter hour after the marshal's arrival, he and I were 
 on the road to breakfast in town. 
 
 My case, of which my enemy had made nothing 
 more serious than simple assault so far, was naturally 
 to come before the local administrator of justice, 
 and I determined upon what my immediate course 
 would be. I made up my mind that I would waive 
 hearing and be bound over if possible to the county 
 court, so that the greatest publicity might be given 
 the case; and then I would prepare a defense that 
 would end in a counter-charge of more serious na- 
 ture against the two men who had had the will, 
 indeed, to attack me, and who had only been dis- 
 appointed because of my good luck in being strong. 
 
 My companion was a wholesome, sensible fellow. 
 His name was Clausen, he told me, and we were 
 presently on good terms. He told me also that Bain 
 had seemed curiously eager to press my case the 
 day before when he had first made the charge 
 against me, and that he himself would have been 
 forced to come after me then if any one had known 
 that King had brought me to The Hazels. I had 
 been seen in King's car, but, as I was a stranger and 
 as no one had understood that King intended to 
 take me to the Philbrics' home, they had looked 
 citywards for me. We talked of this a little. But 
 presently my custodian was full of shrewd questions 
 about events at The Hazels, and I found it necessary
 
 Thrust Under Guard 87 
 
 to guard my replies well to avoid saying too much. 
 
 We arrived at the village hotel without my feel- 
 ing that I had betrayed a secret or misstated a fact, 
 however, and Clausen waited while I disposed of a 
 cup of coffee. Then we went promptly to the office 
 of the local justice with my anticipation whetted to 
 keen eagerness. There was some interest in my 
 case apparently, too, I judged, for a number of on- 
 lookers had gathered to see what might happen. 
 But, as I entered the place looking about for my 
 enemies and Hal's, surprise indeed was found wait- 
 ing for me. My lawyer, whose name was Cole, 
 met me at once a keen-eyed young chap with a 
 good grip in his fingers. And his first greeting was 
 a laugh. 
 
 " The charge against you has been withdrawn, 
 Mr. Randall," he said. " It isn't ten minutes since 
 a lawyer of the village appeared on the scene here 
 acting for Bain and asked that the case be dropped." 
 
 The thing was so astonishing as to be suggestive. 
 I exclaimed, naturally. Then the story was retold 
 with details that added nothing to it. Then came 
 the partial explanation. Bain and Scancey had sud- 
 denly been called away from town. Scancey had 
 gone to the city. About Bain there seemed to be 
 a curious story. I did not hear it, however, till I 
 had lodged my own complaint against the two with 
 all necessary formalities, insisting that I would hang 
 every drag I could upon them that might handicap 
 their war upon my friends. Then fully released
 
 88 A Hand in the Game 
 
 from the charge against me, I went with Cole at 
 his invitation to his office and listened to a queer 
 tale. 
 
 The day before, as the marshal, Clausen, had 
 told me, Bain had been almost rabid in his desire 
 to prosecute the charge against me and had tried 
 to make the accusation one of assault with intent 
 to do great bodily harm. Scancey had entered the 
 complaint in the less serious form, however, and 
 had tried to quiet Bain's rage. Curiously enough 
 the news of the shooting of Salver at The Hazels 
 was not told to either of them till after the charge 
 against me was filed, because no one cared to ap- 
 proach them with the story of the letters which 
 promptly came out. After the tale came to them, 
 however, by the mouth of a reporter who inter- 
 viewed them, it was only natural that they should 
 forget the minor affair with me for a time. 
 
 They would give no statement for the evening 
 papers, however, except a general denial of Phil- 
 bric's story; and then they had spent the afternoon 
 and half the night alone in their office, seeing no 
 one who called, until they had admitted reporters 
 again about midnight, and had given out the tale 
 that had appeared in the morning papers. Then 
 came the curious part. 
 
 Judson Bain had left his office about one o'clock. 
 Cole himself had seen the man on the street with 
 Scancey, as he, Cole, was returning home at that 
 late hour from a discussion of the startling news at
 
 the hotel. The young lawyer, who lived not far 
 from Bain's residence, had followed the two with 
 some curiosity, and he saw them enter the gates of 
 Bain's place together. He would not have been fur- 
 ther attracted to watch, had it not been that just as 
 he was about to turn away, two people, a man and 
 a woman, whom he could see by the light in the 
 street but could not recognize, came hastily up to- 
 gether and entered the grounds behind Bain and 
 Scancey. 
 
 So hurried had been the movements of the second 
 pair that Cole out of curiosity had paused to listen 
 and watch. Almost immediately after the four were 
 swallowed up in the shadow of Bain's shrubbery, 
 however, there came the sound of momentary high 
 words quickly quieted. The phrases were not dis- 
 tinguishable. Then all grew abruptly quiet. A mo- 
 ment later, however, Scancey came out of the dark- 
 ness half running. 
 
 Cole stepped behind his own gateway to avoid the 
 man as he passed, and Scancey evidently did not see 
 him. The young lawyer stood quiet after that, wait- 
 ing, for there was enough of the unusual about all 
 this to stir a deeper interest. When everything re- 
 mained quiet for some minutes then, however, he 
 had about made up his mind to go in and to bed. 
 He heard the sound of an automobile engine, how- 
 ever, at the Bain garage which was on his own side 
 of Bain's grounds, and he waited again. Presently a 
 machine, evidently Bain's, came out upon the drive
 
 9O A Hand in the Game 
 
 where Cole could see it through the unfledged trees, 
 and immediately afterwards the machine ran quickly 
 to the road and out upon it. Turning, the motor 
 came past Cole's place, and in it the young lawyer 
 saw two men seated, one at the wheel in front, the 
 other in the tonneau. The one in front, he was 
 positive in his own mind, had been Judson Bain. 
 The other was no one he knew, so far as the dim 
 light of street-lamps had revealed. The third per- 
 son the woman had disappeared.
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 SHEER HAZARD 
 
 TO me, in the light of what had occurred, the 
 story seemed remarkable. Cole told it al- 
 most laughingly. He recognized the seriousness of 
 the situation but the mystery appealed to him as 
 humorous rather than sobering. To me, with the 
 memory of Hal and his condition, and of Hal's sis- 
 ter and her anxiety, and with the thought of what 
 must now be their deepened dismay and fear, there 
 was nothing that could excite amusement. I was 
 impatient to learn more. Apparently there was no 
 more, however. Cole had gone in, soon after the 
 occurrence he had seen, and had gone to bed. He 
 had risen in the morning to receive Barnaby's tele- 
 phone message asking him to meet me and then to 
 learn that the case against me had been suddenly 
 withdrawn. 
 
 But I was on fire with curiosity. 
 
 " Was Scancey seen in town this morning ? " I 
 asked. 
 
 " Yes oh yes. He went to the city early, 
 though." 
 
 "And Bain?" 
 
 " A reporter told me that the servants at the 
 91
 
 92 A Hand in the Game 
 
 house informed him that Mr. Bain had not been 
 home all night." 
 
 " Humph ! Did Scancey spend the night in his 
 own home?" 
 
 " Yes, I believe he did. He was there, but 
 wouldn't see reporters till he went out to send some 
 telegrams about seven o'clock this morning. Then 
 they nailed him and he gave them a suave good- 
 morning and told them he wouldn't talk again till 
 he saw Bain which would not be till evening." 
 
 " And what about the woman that entered Bain's 
 grounds ? " 
 
 " Frankly, I don't know. She was probably a 
 servant of the house." 
 
 " She might have been." 
 
 It was an irritating thing, but it was worth study- 
 ing certainly. So mysterious a move on the part of 
 our enemy was surely not without some very great 
 significance. I tried to get Cole to reason out some- 
 thing from it, but he was of the cautious kind and I 
 came finally to wonder that he had told me the tale 
 at all. I made up my mind before I left him, 
 however, to follow up each slightest clue I could 
 find, and when I went from his office I was bent 
 upon a new quest. 
 
 I 'phoned to The Hazels first and got Barnaby 
 on the wire. I told him of the withdrawal of the 
 case against me and of Bain's absence from town. 
 Also of Scancey's trip to the city. Further than 
 this I did not care to detail over the wire. I told
 
 Sheer Hazard 93 
 
 him I wished to follow a clue that presented itself, 
 and would communicate with the house later. 
 
 He informed me in turn that Donna and Hal had 
 been told just the turn the case had taken. It had 
 seemed best to himself and King and to Doctor 
 Graham that they should be frankly informed, as 
 they would be almost certain to learn in some less 
 agreeable way, if their friends attempted to cover 
 the seriousness of the case. He said that Donna 
 acted well. Hal had been excited at first but had 
 become very much quieter later, and was only some- 
 what too silent now. 
 
 I went from the 'phone a good deal depressed 
 with the sense of what must be the pain and suffer- 
 ing of my friends. But my resolution to make war 
 on Judson Bain by every means I could find was 
 only hardened by Barnaby's account of their quiet 
 reception of the attack upon them. I had already 
 started the town marshal on a hunt for Bain, 
 though I had little faith in his success, since he had 
 shown so little keenness in looking for me. I be- 
 lieved that I might have better luck if I gave myself 
 to it, and a plan had already formed itself in my 
 mind. Bain had gone away in haste. Scancey had 
 sent telegrams. There were two things to put to- 
 gether, at least. They might have no connection. 
 Also they might. 
 
 I went down the street and inquired casually of 
 the first man I met for the telegraph office. It was 
 a good bet that there was but one in town and so
 
 94 A Hand in the Game 
 
 it proved. I found it. What was more, I found 
 a pretty girl behind the counter there, ready and wil- 
 ling to help me transact my business, and I promptly 
 congratulated myself upon that. I am sure she 
 thought I admired her and I did. 
 
 I raised my hat with utmost punctilious polite- 
 ness. " Why," said I, with some caution, " you 
 were not here when I was in earlier." 
 
 " What time?" she asked, smiling on me kindly. 
 
 " Let me see about seven," I answered. 
 
 She shook a curly head at me and laughed. " Not 
 me," she responded. 
 
 " That's what I say not you," said I, trying to 
 make the conversation properly lightsome. 
 
 " I don't get -around here before eight," she 
 vouchsafed, and my first step was successfully taken. 
 
 ' You don't mean that you are the operator here, 
 do you? " I asked, looking about curiously. 
 
 " Sure thing eight till six. Sandy's on from 
 seven to eight, mornings, and six till ten, nights." 
 
 " That explains it," said I. " It was about seven, 
 I think, that the telegrams were sent." 
 
 " Expecting an answer? " she asked glibly. 
 
 " Well," said I, " I shall be disappointed if I don't 
 get something from some of them. It's strange 
 nothing has come so far. I thought I'd better come 
 in and look at two or three to be sure that the mean- 
 ing was quite clear. You have copies of them, 
 haven't you? " 
 
 " Sure.. The originals are all here." She turned
 
 Sheer Hazard 95 
 
 to her files and drew out a small bunch of the yellow 
 sheets. She thumbed them over carelessly. " What 
 name? " she asked. 
 
 I hesitated an instant, and, to cover it, I made 
 the first move that occurred to me. I reached for 
 my pocketbook feigning to search for a paper in it. 
 
 " What name ? " she repeated. 
 
 " Oh," said I, " beg pardon. Scancey." 
 
 I waited. If she suspected, I could certainly get 
 no glimpse of those telegrams. If not, I might lay 
 my hands on a clue. 
 
 " Scancey ! " she said. " You ain't Scancey." 
 
 But she laughed. What her mental processes were 
 I don't pretend to know. But I reached for the 
 little bunch of messages. " No," I said, " I'm not 
 Scancey. He sent the telegrams. I just want to 
 verify them." 
 
 I drew them toward me. I fancied she was re- 
 luctant to let them go, for rules there are about such 
 things, strictly enforced in larger offices, more lax 
 in easy-going little places. I laughed. " Do you 
 think I look like Wheeler Scancey ? " I asked. 
 
 She looked up at me with ready cordiality. 
 " Me ? No, I don't," she answered. Then she 
 laughed again. " Oh, you ! " she added, by which 
 I inferred that she concluded I was joking. I have 
 rarely been farther from it, for I had Wheeler 
 Scancey's telegrams under my fingers turning them 
 over. There were four. One was to a campaign 
 manager in the city putting off an appointment. A
 
 96 A Hand in the Game 
 
 second was to a politician up-state directing a meet- 
 ing at a small city. The third was an order to a 
 printer. The fourth as I looked eagerly at it the 
 girl abruptly put out her hands and covered it. 
 
 " Say," she said sharply, " you ain't doing any 
 verifying." 
 
 I looked up to find a startled expression on her 
 face. She seemed to have read my eagerness. 
 
 I turned my hands deliberately and took hold of 
 both of hers. " Is that so, lady? " said I. " Now 
 don't please don't interrupt me. I'm so interested. 
 Look," I added, transferring both her hands to one 
 of mine and pointing to the fourth message, " you've 
 sent that one wrong." 
 
 She looked. Meantime I held her hands. I could 
 feel the grit of office dust upon them and was sorry 
 for the little workaday thing with her " eight to 
 six " and her gullibility on which I played. But I 
 read the telegram and this is what it said : 
 
 " FRED HENDERSON, Cold Spring, Chettesworth. 
 " Chocolate coming up. Spread the plank. 
 
 " SCANCEY." 
 
 It was enough. A cipher telegram of course, and 
 the address was all I wanted all I could get, in fact. 
 I have a good memory when I can visualize a thing, 
 and after the girl's hands came down again upon the 
 page I could still see Fred Henderson, Cold Spring, 
 Chettesworth, as plainly as before.
 
 Sheer Hazard 97 
 
 The little clerk looked at me reproachfully when 
 I had let go her fingers, and she seemed not a little 
 dismayed, till I carefully consulted my pocketbook 
 again. Then she felt a trifle better. 
 
 " Oh," I said, " my mistake. You've got it all 
 right, I guess." 
 
 " Did you honestly want to verify? " she asked. 
 
 " What makes you so suspicious ? " I queried in 
 turn. " Isn't it all right for a man to look over his 
 telegrams after he's sent them?" 
 
 "Of course, but " she began. 
 
 " Don't but," said I vivaciously. " It's a terrific 
 habit." 
 
 " Oh, I guess you're all right," she said suddenly, 
 laughing and taking the pad of telegrams from the 
 counter. " You ain't a crook, I know that." 
 
 " No," said I. " I'm not a crook, Geraldine." 
 
 I couldn't feel like one either, despite my duplicity, 
 as I left her with a gallant bow, and laid a straight 
 course for the little railway station. 
 
 " How far is it to Chettesworth ? " was my ques- 
 tion at the agent's brass-barred window. 
 
 " Seventy-two miles," came the answer, and it 
 was no gushing maiden now but a square- jawed, not 
 over- joyful looking young chap who seemed more 
 or less resentful of my presence in the place. 
 
 "And Cold Spring?" I hazarded, uncertain to 
 what the name might apply. 
 
 He scowled. " Well ? " he said. 
 
 " What is Cold Spring? " I asked.
 
 98 A Hand in the Game 
 
 " It's a horse-farm," he answered, with a look of 
 pain at being parted from so much information at 
 a time. 
 
 I like to bait his kind, too, but I had no time. 
 " When can I get a train to Chettesworth ? " I pur- 
 sued. 
 
 " At noon twelve-ten," he grunted. 
 
 " Thank you," I said meekly. 
 
 It was then eleven and I wandered out to the 
 street again. I had formed no certain plan of 
 action. I had been proceeding on impulse. But I 
 had half made up my mind to take the seventy-mile 
 run to Chettesworth on the chance that that place 
 had been the goal of Judson Bain the night before. 
 If I could find him, I would put the nearest officer 
 after him, to bring him back on my charge against 
 him. 
 
 One more thing was in my mind to do, and that 
 I scarcely knew how to accomplish. The suspicion 
 that had leaped into my brain with Cole's story 
 might be wholly absurd, but I had a decided inclina- 
 tion to the theory that the strange actions on the 
 part of Bain and Scancey which the young lawyer 
 had observed might easily be connected with the 
 inability of Barnaby and his agents to find the girl 
 whose name had been involved in the plot against 
 Fenelon. I wished immediately that I had antici- 
 pated the need of information about her before I 
 left The Hazels. 
 
 There was only one sensible course under the
 
 Sheer Hazard 99 
 
 circumstances, and that was to call up Barnaby 
 again. I disliked to make so much talk over the 
 telephone, but I saw no other way; so I used the 
 wire again, going into a local drug store for the 
 purpose, and was lucky in getting the shrewd lawyer 
 promptly. 
 
 " This is Randall again," I said to him. " Does 
 Bain own a horse-farm at Cold Spring, Chettes- 
 worth?" 
 
 " No," answered Barnaby, fi but Curly Conrad 
 does." 
 
 This puzzled me for an instant, but I dropped it 
 for the other inquiry. "What is the name of the 
 girl who was mentioned in the letters the lost let- 
 ters ? " I asked, covering the inquiry as much as I 
 could in apprehension of listeners on the wire. 
 
 " Luella Westfall," came his answer quite clear. 
 
 " Where can I get information safely get it 
 about her? " 
 
 He paused a moment. " She lived with her 
 mother on Kent Street," he said. " But wait 
 ask the Reverend Mr. Vernon about her. He can 
 tell you all you want to know and he's safe." 
 
 " Good," said I. " I'm going up to Chettesworth. 
 I'll send word later." 
 
 I hung up the receiver. As I left the booth and 
 stepped out into the store I noticed a clerk behind 
 the counter who looked at me curiously. As I 
 passed on I wondered if he could have overheard 
 my talk through the thin walls of the booth, and how
 
 ioo A Hand in the Game 
 
 much he could guess from it if he had. There was 
 no remedy for what was done, however, and I did 
 not look a second time at him. I remembered him 
 as a tall, pale fellow with very light blue eyes, and 
 set him down as a nonentity so far as our affairs 
 were concerned. 
 
 Then I called at the house of the Reverend Mr. 
 Vernon, which I learned by inquiry was but a few 
 blocks away, and met that gentleman. He responded 
 to my inquiries readily when I mentioned Barnaby's 
 name. 
 
 " Poor child," he said of the girl. " Yes, I have 
 known her and her mother for years. She grew 
 up here. She is a very pretty, frivolous little thing 
 with mostly vanity for a character. Her mother is 
 a very strange woman about whom nobody seems to 
 know much. She and the daughter both worked 
 till recently at an odd trade painting fish-bait, arti- 
 ficial minnows and the like, for a local firm. They 
 have made a good living. The girl's recent trouble 
 you evidently know about. She was in a city hos- 
 pital till about a month ago, and her child died there. 
 Martin Fenelon is known to have befriended her 
 and to have paid some at least of her bills. That 
 is what started the stories, I suppose, against Fene- 
 lon. I don't believe a word against him, but the 
 girl has been close-mouthed about her trouble. She 
 won't tell anything to help or hurt a soul. Now, I 
 understand, she has run away." 
 
 "When?"
 
 Sheer Hazard 101 
 
 " This morning or last night." 
 
 "Alone?" 
 
 " So far as we know." 
 
 " Does her mother know anything about her ? " 
 
 " Her mother is the most taciturn person I have 
 ever known. She will not even answer ordinary 
 questions." 
 
 " Curious," said I. " It is also strange, isn't it, 
 that the girl should run away now just at this 
 particular time?" 
 
 " Of course. But do you know " The min- 
 ister hesitated. He was a kindly old fellow, white 
 of hair, with a good blue eye. " Do you know, I 
 have a feeling that the poor child has been driven 
 away. She showed little or no shame at first over 
 her misfortune. She seemed hardly to understand 
 that it was a shame to her. Then suddenly within 
 the past few days only, since she came home, she 
 has shut herself up at her mother's house, to see 
 no one. And she and her mother have both been 
 absolutely silent to all questions." 
 
 I considered. Here, too, lay a curious complica- 
 tion. " You don't know the previous history of the 
 mother? " I asked. 
 
 " No. She came here from the West six or eight 
 years ago and she and Lou, as every one called the 
 girl, have lived a workaday life ever since. The 
 girl has been a gay little flirt, running about with all 
 sorts of fellows, but I never thought there was harm 
 in her. She's to be pitied."
 
 IO2 A Hand in the Game 
 
 I liked the charity of the old fellow. It was easy 
 to see the sort he was gentle, kind, generous, un- 
 judging. 
 
 " Will you describe the girl to me ? " I asked. " It 
 is important that we should trace her and I never 
 saw her." 
 
 " She is small," he answered, " and quite fair. 
 She is pretty with the pert prettiness of the turned- 
 up-nose sort. She has blue eyes the baby eyes that 
 seem to appeal so strongly to men. She is always 
 half laughing or usually. I've never seen her very 
 serious. She has a rather long upper lip that sug- 
 gests the Irish and her eyelashes are long and curl 
 up like a wax doll's." 
 
 I looked at the man in wonder. Such observation 
 was rare, and such a description of the runaway girl 
 I could hardly have expected to get. I spoke my 
 thoughts. But he only smiled. 
 
 " I've known the girl a long time, you under- 
 stand," he said simply. 
 
 I left the old gentleman with a feeling of high 
 respect for him and with quite a different attitude 
 toward the girl in this case. I wondered, with fresh 
 and deeper suspicions of Judson Bain, what wide- 
 spread trouble he might be sowing in other lives 
 besides those in which I was most deeply concerned. 
 Unscrupulous brute he was. 
 
 It was nearing the time of the train for Chettes- 
 worth and I had made up my mind to go. I stopped 
 at a restaurant for a sandwich and then went over
 
 Sheer Hazard 103 
 
 to the station again. I sent another telegram to 
 my lawyers in the city advising them that it might be 
 several days before I arrived there, and I laughed 
 as I thought of their probable astonishment over 
 a young man who was so tardy to take possession 
 of so bounteous an inheritance. But I could not 
 concern myself much for my money then. It was 
 mine and there was no hurry. In twenty-four 
 hours I had found interest in something else that 
 Fortune might give if she chose. 
 
 It was an uneventful ride, that seventy-odd miles. 
 It was rather tiresome because of the slow local 
 train I was compelled to take. When I arrived 
 I found Chettesworth a busy place at the foot of the 
 hills that I vaguely knew became quite respectable 
 mountains a little further north in the state. It was 
 a pretty location on that April afternoon, when the 
 sun was bringing out the green things everywhere 
 at a pace that was almost perceptible. 
 
 I had left Hazelhurst at noon and it was after 
 three when I stepped down on the station platform. 
 I learned promptly that Cold Spring Farm was six 
 miles back in the country and that I must drive or 
 walk thither, if I would go. I considered this detail 
 with some care, too, for it might be worth my while 
 to preserve the advantage of being as little known 
 to the people of the town as possible. No one but 
 Judson Bain himself would now recognize me on 
 sight. My first object was, indeed, to see him 
 simply to set my eyes upon him for the purpose of
 
 IO4 A Hand in the Game 
 
 assuring myself that he was here. Then I could 
 act as circumstances might guide. But I had a 
 feeling that if Bain were here at all he might keep 
 the matter quite dark. Why should he have come 
 up here at all at this time except upon some errand 
 that would not bear publication ? 
 
 But an idea occurred to me, as I walked up the 
 street of the town, that offered possibilities and at 
 the same time appealed to my love of the adven- 
 turous. Why let Judson Bain have opportunity 
 even to learn by chance that I was in the neighbor- 
 hood ? Why not disguise ? Why not a deeper game 
 than the simple one I had planned? I jumped at 
 the idea with satisfaction. It would go hard with 
 me if I did not make complications for Judson Bain 
 if I found him at Cold Spring Farm. 
 
 My mind worked out the details rapidly. I would 
 first find a place for headquarters a boarding- 
 house. An inquiry at the station sufficed for that. 
 I was directed to " the best in town " kept by a 
 pleasant- faced German woman who looked clean 
 and who provided me with a room that was good 
 enough. I told her I was going to do some shoot- 
 ing in the hills and would take her room for a week. 
 Then I went out, bought a cheap gun and case, a 
 cheaper grip, and a suit of ready-made corduroys, 
 rough and heavy. I secured from my clothing 
 dealer a canvas shooting-coat and a corduroy cap, 
 too, that were shop-worn and that he was glad to 
 get rid of. I was equally glad to get them, for they
 
 Sheer Hazard 105 
 
 would not look too new. And I lugged all of my 
 new possessions to my lodging. 
 
 Two hours later, just as dusk was falling at the 
 end of the balmy spring day, I was asking the barn- 
 boss at Cold Spring Farm a big, handsome, well- 
 kept place for a spot in which to sleep for the 
 night. And I got it.
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 A COMPANION OF LUCK 
 
 THERE was a big, old-fashioned house at Cold 
 Spring that loomed huge in the early dark- 
 ness of the April evening. There was a great cluster 
 of barns and stables, with electric lights at their 
 doors, but with deep dark spaces between and wide 
 dark fields behind them. There were woods within 
 a short distance on two sides. There were a dozen 
 hands who occupied quarters apart from the house, 
 and a red-faced Irish boss who spoke in a rough 
 brogue and was ready with hospitality for a con- 
 sideration. 
 
 Some of the conditions I liked. I told the boss 
 I was gunning for some special sorts of specimens 
 I hoped to find in the hills it was scientific gun- 
 ning, I carefully explained and that I cared noth- 
 ing for ordinary game. He regarded me with the 
 indulgent patronage such men usually exhibit for 
 the fellow who betrays the slightest leaning towards 
 a science. What was much more important, how- 
 ever, his attitude gave me freedom of the place for 
 the evening and night and opened opportunity. 
 
 I ate supper with the men. To remain as incon- 
 spicuous as possible I talked little and listened much. 
 
 106
 
 A Companion of Luck 107 
 
 Fortunately there were three horsemen buyers or 
 sellers temporarily at the place, also lodging in the 
 tenant-house to which I had been assigned, so that 
 I was not the only stranger. Moreover, the men 
 of the place had little interest in my affairs. I 
 found opportunity to retire to my room early, there- 
 fore and to get away alone upon my initial under- 
 taking under cover of the night. 
 
 It was simple enough to go to the outlying house 
 where I had deposited my gun and pack, to enter 
 my room and lock it. It was a second floor cham- 
 ber, a fact I regretted. But its window was over 
 a lean-to at the back of the house and faced the 
 open fields. I turned on my incandescent and drew 
 my shade for a time. Then I extinguished the light, 
 and, opening the window, climbed out and down the 
 lower roof and dropped to the ground. 
 
 It was still early and no one who was to be 
 house-mate of mine had come to the place. There 
 was the sound of hilarity in the building where I had 
 left the men and there seemed to be perfect quiet 
 over the wide yards. The big house had glowing 
 windows visible at several points, but there was no 
 noise corning from open sashes to indicate that there 
 were guests there. 
 
 I circled the house first. I was a bit apprehensive 
 that there might be a dog or two about, but as none 
 awoke at my first round of the place, I let that 
 notion go. I kept out of the range of lights and 
 spied yes, that's what I was there for spied at
 
 io8 A Hand in the Game 
 
 what I could see. I walked on the soft grass of 
 the lawns lawns there were immediately about the 
 house. I nearly fell into a little artificial pond back 
 of one wing, but avoided that accident by good 
 luck. 
 
 But my early discoveries were practically noth- 
 ing. It was as I was making my second trip about 
 at closer range with a thought to climb upon the 
 wide dark veranda, and try for a peep at the windows 
 from that vantage ground, that things began to 
 happen. I was just at the very corner of the great 
 front porch, indeed, and was contemplating a vault 
 up to the floor of it when I heard a step and voices 
 of men at a door near at hand, and, before I could 
 calculate chances or think whether or not I was in 
 a safe position, two men came to the rail at the 
 end of the porch almost directly above me and 
 paused together there, smoking and talking. 
 
 I could see the glow of their cigars. I could 
 smell the fragrance of fine tobacco. With two steps 
 I could have placed myself where I could have 
 touched their knees between the open spindle-work 
 of the railing. And I had found one thing for 
 which I had been looking adventure for the first 
 voice I heard distinctly was unmistakably Judson 
 Bain's. 
 
 I stood beside the wide pillar at the corner of 
 the porch. It was pitch dark at the spot and that 
 was why I had chosen it. There were some shreds 
 of vines on a slight trellis close to the pillar and
 
 A Companion of Luck 109 
 
 they were a trifle of protection to me. But either 
 of the two men above could easily have seen me 
 had he been moved to come to the corner and bend 
 over the rail. The space under the porch into which 
 I thought I might creep I instantly found to be 
 latticed. I had no choice but to stand where I was 
 or attract dangerous suspicion by abruptly moving 
 off into the darkness. Besides, I wanted to stay. 
 
 They were talking of horses, the two on the porch, 
 at first. What they said is unimportant now. I 
 was not interested in it then. But it was only a 
 moment so, and then came things that stirred me 
 quickly enough to huge excitement. 
 
 " How'd the girl act to-night ? " asked Bain 
 abruptly in his big hoarse bass. 
 
 " Better," answered the other. His voice was 
 even and smooth and he seemed to be a younger 
 man than the other. 
 
 "Was she scared?" 
 
 " Yes, of course." 
 
 " Did you tell her where she is ? " 
 
 " No." 
 
 " Think better not ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Humph ! " There was anxiety in the tone of 
 the big man. " It was a fool thing to bring her 
 out here." 
 
 " No, it wasn't." 
 
 " It sure was. She'd have gone anywhere if I'd 
 paid her and told her to git."
 
 i io A Hand in the Game 
 
 "Would she?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " She might have gone to Barnaby. What would 
 stop her ? " 
 
 " She'd be afraid of me." 
 
 " Did she act afraid of you when she asked for 
 money ? " 
 
 " No; but I can scare her." 
 
 The younger man laughed, a nasty little grunt or 
 two. "Go up and try it now," he responded. 
 
 " You don't know me," said Bain. 
 
 " I know her." 
 
 " Have I got to keep her here? " 
 
 " What else can you do ? Do you want Barnaby 
 to have a chance at her evidence?" 
 
 " I'll buy her up solid." 
 
 " That may do but you'll pay well now." 
 
 "Was she hurt?" 
 
 " I think not ; but it was a rough ride." 
 
 A light began to dawn on me. Of course it was 
 obvious of whom they talked. It began to be plain 
 how Luella Westfall had come to Cold Spring. 
 
 " Do you think any one could have seen us ? " 
 asked Bain. 
 
 " Some one might, of course. I don't believe 
 any one did." 
 
 " Then what about this telephone message? " 
 
 The big man coughed a little at the end of his 
 query and the other paused before replying. I stood 
 marveling at my luck in hearing this much,
 
 A Companion of Luck in 
 
 and amazed that my instinctive desire to follow 
 Bain had been apparently so well based. My con- 
 ceit of my own perspicacity began to rise as I lis- 
 tened for the answer to the last question. It came 
 presently. 
 
 " Do you know the fellow who 'phoned? " 
 
 "Sure." 
 
 "Do you know the man he described?" 
 
 " No." 
 
 "Couldn't be Barnaby?" 
 
 " No." 
 
 "Nor that fellow, King?" 
 
 " No." 
 
 " Some detective? " 
 
 " Possibly." 
 
 " Didn't he give the name at all ? " 
 
 " No." 
 
 " Is there anybody else who has any interest in 
 following you up ? " 
 
 " Not now." 
 
 " What does that mean? " 
 
 " Why, that there isn't anybody, of course." 
 
 " Oh." 
 
 I could have laughed, not at Bain's belief that no 
 one but Barnaby or his agents would have an object 
 in following him, but at the other's attitude toward 
 the man's expression " not now." It was clear 
 enough that both recalled some other occasion when 
 there might have been less certainty. 
 
 They were quiet a moment and the sweet smoke
 
 ii2 A Hand in the Game 
 
 of their cigars drifted down and across to me. 
 Presently Bain spoke again. 
 
 " I'll have everybody looking out for suspicious 
 arrivals," he said, and I sobered quickly, with my 
 mind swiftly reviewing what had been said. I had 
 not yet caught the clue, however. 
 
 " That's wise," said the other man. " And do 
 you intend to see the girl to-night ? " 
 
 " I may as well." 
 
 They moved away from the rail and loitered 
 along the porch. I wanted to follow and catch 
 every word, but I had heard more than I could have 
 dreamed of hoping for already, and the risk would 
 be too great. What to do with my information 
 was not an easy question to answer, but as I slid 
 off among the trees again, I turned this swiftly in 
 my mind. 
 
 The girl Luella West fall was without doubt in 
 this big house somewhere a prisoner. That seemed 
 clear. I had no means of knowing in what room 
 she was. The man with Bain had used the ex- 
 pression " up " in advising Bain to " go up and 
 try " to frighten her. That indicated second floor 
 at least. In lieu of better to do, I looked up at such 
 second-floor windows as were lighted. They did 
 not promise much. 
 
 Bain and his companion were still in the porch. 
 I could see their figures but I could not again ap- 
 proach them. They were standing in the path of 
 light from the open front door now and I could
 
 A Companion of Luck 113 
 
 make out that the smaller man was apparently little 
 more than a boy rather slight and stooped, and 
 that he had dark and very bushy hair. I could not 
 make out any of his features at the distance. I also 
 stood still, however, in the midst of the almost bare 
 shrubbery, and looked and listened. Presently the 
 two went inside. 
 
 What next to do I hardly knew. I wanted to 
 enter the house but I could hardly hope to do that 
 successfully, whatever stratagem I might invent, so 
 long as Bain was in it. I could think of a number 
 of plans I might try upon servants, but the chances 
 of learning much, without being referred to the 
 master of the house, were slender. 
 
 I turned to circle the house again, looking once 
 more at the upper windows. I reasoned that any 
 room in which the girl might be imprisoned would 
 have a light, but closed shutters. I looked for such 
 a window. I crept quietly among the trees and 
 bushes, and then out upon the wide lawn again, 
 where it lay quite black under a cloudy, moonless 
 sky. I had no fear that any one even a few feet 
 away would see me and I could prowl to my heart's 
 content. Even if I were discovered here by one 
 of the men I could easily explain my presence by 
 some word about fresh air or a search for drinking 
 water. But I preferred not to be caught at this 
 game. 
 
 It seemed rather a fool's quest to look for a win- 
 dow that might hide a prisoner in such a house full
 
 114 A Hand in the Game 
 
 of windows as that. But I was beginning to be- 
 lieve that luck was with me. All sorts of wild 
 schemes which had comparatively little except their 
 audacity to recommend them began to climb up into 
 my brain. I thought of going to one of the back 
 doors of the place and entering, with the purpose 
 of seizing the first opportunity of climbing to the 
 second floor, with no excuse but an inquiry for 
 " Fred Henderson " or " Curly Conrad " ready for 
 glib utterance and depending on sheer assurance to 
 carry me far enough to learn something worth while. 
 I could imagine a startled maid answering questions 
 if I could carry the bluff that I was in the house 
 because of some secret service for Bain himself. 
 I could imagine quick action in deserted hallways 
 if maids to startle proved scarce. I could taste the 
 joy of the excitement of it, for I loved adventure 
 and my physical strength made me less fearful of 
 punishment than I might have been. 
 
 I went so far as to choose a door that I might 
 care to try for an entrance and was more than half 
 seriously considering a definite plan when, suddenly, 
 as if luck were determined to be my companion for 
 the night, that very portal opened and a man came 
 out and stood on the step. I was on the lawn 
 probably fifty feet from where he stood, with the 
 dark background of the trees behind me. He stood 
 on the steps, with a faint reflected light from some 
 inner room in the hall at his back. 
 
 As he paused, too, a second figure appeared and
 
 A Companion of Luck 115 
 
 stood beside him. Then he spoke and I knew him 
 for Bain again. 
 
 " I'll be cautious," he said loudly enough for me 
 to hear across the little space in the quiet of the 
 night. 
 
 "Of course. Don't spend much time over it 
 either," said the other, who was unmistakably the 
 same man who had been in the porch with him. 
 
 " I'll be back in a few minutes," said Bain. 
 
 He stepped down and I heard his foot scuff on 
 the gravel. Quite ignorant of what might now be 
 in the wind, I waited to see what direction he 
 would take. He started toward the barns. I was 
 doubtful whether I ought to follow him or whether 
 this very opportunity was made for my entrance to 
 the house, when the man at the door called after 
 him a sentence that decided me. 
 
 " Don't you think you'd better have a light? " he 
 asked with a half -guarded tone but loud enough to 
 have been heard to the stables. 
 
 " No," answered Bain, " I know the path up there 
 as well as I know the walk to the gate." 
 
 The thing roused a new curiosity in me. I 
 wavered as to the wisest course, and then on im- 
 pulse born of seeing my enemy and Hal's disappear- 
 ing in the darkness alone, I followed him. I ran 
 over the grass lightly. He kept to a gravel path 
 that led to the big drive before the main horse- 
 barn. There he turned and passed the front of the 
 dark building and rounded its corner. He plunged
 
 n6 A Hand in the Game 
 
 into absolute blackness here, but I followed, circling 
 off to the right alongside a low tool-house to keep 
 from getting the lights of house or yard behind 
 me. I was guided by the sound of his steps after 
 we entered the space between the buildings and fol- 
 lowed as lightly as I could. Once he stopped and 
 I was certain he had heard me, till I caught the click 
 of a gate latch and knew he was letting himself out 
 of the yard. 
 
 I pressed on hastily then, found the gate and 
 passed it without noise. I discovered his figure 
 again on a rise of ground, dimly visible against the 
 dull sky. Then I stumbled into a well-worn path 
 that he was evidently following and my way became 
 easier. I followed him as closely as I dared, and 
 soon became certain that he was making his way 
 up toward the nearer hills. It was interesting work. 
 What could be his purpose I could not guess, but I 
 had a mind to give him a trick out there in the 
 darkness that might make him think, and I strove to 
 formulate a plan as I crept on behind him. Only 
 occasionally could I see him at all, and then very 
 indistinctly. But I could keep track of him easily 
 because of the constantly repeated little throaty 
 cough he emitted a smoker's cough. I was grate- 
 ful, too, to whatever star was mine at the moment 
 for that. 
 
 The path led through a meadow, then along the 
 side of a noisy little brook, across a small bridge 
 and up a steeper bank on the farther side. Then we
 
 A Companion of Luck 117 
 
 came to a stiff ascent and I had difficulty in follow- 
 ing without sounds, for the gravel rolled noisily 
 from under foot at each step. The noise he himself 
 made, however, seemed to cover mine when I could 
 not keep to the sod. But when we reached the 
 more level ground above, I had the satisfaction of 
 seeing the broad, dark back of my man plodding 
 steadily on without the least appearance of alarm. 
 Why should he be alarmed, indeed, on his friend's 
 land with no thought of an enemy at hand? I 
 laughed in my soul at the idea that he was himself 
 guiding me to some unsuspected secret of his that 
 might give me a hold upon him under which he 
 would be forced to close his fight against my 
 friends. 
 
 We came to a little thicket of woods after passing 
 the field about the stream. There I entered after 
 him more cautiously again, but still eager, and fol- 
 lowed by sound once more. He walked but a few 
 steps, however, in the deep shadow under the trees 
 before he stopped. I had pressed more closely upon 
 him here than I had meant and I was very near 
 indeed scarcely a dozen feet back upon his path 
 when the abrupt cessation of his footsteps warned 
 me to stop. And in a moment the absolute silence 
 of the whole countryside seemed to flood in over us 
 like water that quenches live coals. 
 
 If I had not known Judson Bain was there in the 
 darkness ahead of me I would not have thought a 
 human being could be within miles, perhaps, so
 
 ii8 A Hand in the Game 
 
 quiet was it. Imagine, then, how I started when the 
 man's heavy voice suddenly boomed out of the si- 
 lence and the gloom. 
 
 "Well? "he said. 
 
 I ceased to breathe, I think. It was not so much 
 that I feared him. I was more than a match for him 
 physically, unless he was armed; but the surprise 
 of it was huge. He seemed to have discovered sud- 
 denly that some one was on his trail and was turn- 
 ing to bay. Still, I could not believe that he had 
 heard me now when he had failed to discover me 
 on the hillside. I stood still. And then almost im- 
 mediately he spoke again and I discovered that his 
 words were not for me. 
 
 " Are you ready to be sensible ? " he asked. 
 
 I was nonplussed for a moment. But presently 
 the light of understanding began to dawn upon me. 
 
 " I've come to talk to you," the man went on. 
 " Are you tired of being shut up here? " 
 
 I could hear no answer of any kind whatever to 
 his queries. I wondered what sort of place we had 
 come to. A moment later, however, I heard the 
 sound of a lock or a bolt in a wooden door one 
 of the unmistakable sounds of life, like the creak of 
 a shoe or a clink of china. I had a swift mental 
 vision of a house here in the woods and instantly 
 I knew to my own complete satisfaction who must 
 be the person who was expected to be " tired of 
 being shut up here." Here, then, was the real mean- 
 ing of the phrase I had construed to indicate a
 
 A Companion of Luck 119 
 
 prison in a second floor room at the big house. It 
 was a prison in a house or a hut on the wooded hill- 
 side as lonely a spot as could have been picked 
 within ready reach of Cold Spring. 
 
 I waited. I heard the creak of heavy hinges, then 
 the hasty scratching of a match. And then a yellow 
 light flared up and I saw Bain's fat face and pudgy 
 hands illumined in it. 
 
 He stepped forward immediately into the interior 
 of what seemed to be a small log-house. The door, 
 I had time to see, was a stout oaken one with an out- 
 side wooden bar and a heavy iron bolt upon it. The 
 man closed it, however, almost immediately, himself 
 inside, and the gloom was as great about me as 
 before. 
 
 I stepped cautiously forward listening. I trod 
 with utmost care only in the well-worn path, setting 
 each foot down with extreme deliberation. No 
 sound came immediately from the hut and I feared 
 I was missing something of value. But when I 
 reached a spot some six feet from the door I heard 
 the man's voice again and saw a fresh light through 
 the chinks about the door. 
 
 " Are you ready to be sensible ? " was what he 
 asked again. 
 
 There was no reply. 
 
 " Better talk up and do what I want you to. You 
 won't regret it." 
 
 Silence. 
 
 " Come, come ! Don't be a fool."
 
 I2O A Hand in the Game 
 
 Absolute lack of reply or sound of any sort. I 
 marveled at the stamina of this girl who dared give 
 back such treatment to the man who was her captor, 
 after an experience of being shut up out here, even 
 for a brief time after nightfall. 
 
 "You're an obstinate little devil, aren't you?" 
 said Bain. Then as no reply came to this he began 
 suddenly to laugh. " You know what you are ? " 
 he asked. " You're a plain common fool. Don't 
 want money? Don't want freedom, eh? Want to 
 sleep out here and go hungry? How do you like 
 the spooks of the woods for company? Wouldn't 
 you like a mattress to bunk on ? Or some drinking 
 water?" 
 
 He paused again, but his words elicited no more 
 response than before. My blood was growing hot 
 again at the mean cruelty of the man. The idea of 
 such treatment as this accorded to any woman, who- 
 ever or whatever she might be, in a civilized land, 
 was amazing ; but it was also maddening to a fellow 
 who would somewhat rather take up a quarrel with 
 the jailer than not. But I had caution to think of 
 also, and I began to dictate to myself that punish- 
 ment for Bain would wait. It was information I 
 wanted now. 
 
 But the man appeared to become disgusted with 
 the stubborn silence of his captive. He said as much 
 in a coarse sentence. His words warned me, too, 
 that his visit in the house was at an end and I had 
 just time to leap aside upon the grass, when he
 
 A Companion of Luck 121 
 
 opened the door and his light went out. Out he 
 came again, as I knew by the sounds, and presently 
 he had barred and bolted the door and was off down 
 the path once more. 
 
 I stood quite still. If my ears and my guiding 
 star had not played me false I had fallen into the 
 most extraordinary good fortune, for the very per- 
 son who might do Hal's cause most good seemed to 
 be actually in my hands. I waited while Bain's foot- 
 steps died away down the path. My fingers itched 
 to be upon that bolt and bar. And when at last I 
 felt that a move was safe I turned eagerly to the 
 door. I spoke aloud quickly to warn the prisoner 
 that a friend and not a foe now was her visitor. 
 
 " Don't be afraid," I said. " I'm a friend. I've 
 come to let you out to get you away from Bain. 
 I can help you escape and you can help me. It's 
 a shame and an outrage that you have been kept 
 out here, but you'll have your chance to get even 
 with Judson Bain." 
 
 I was undoing the fastenings of the door swiftly 
 as I spoke. I waited for no answer. I wanted none. 
 I only hoped the frightened girl inside would be 
 quietly acquiescent in my scheme for carrying her 
 off. 
 
 I pushed open the door and felt for a match 
 in my waistcoat pocket. I reduced my voice to a 
 whisper and crossed the threshold, scratching for 
 a light on the damp timbers at my side. And then, 
 suddenly, without a sign of warning something
 
 122 A Hand in the Game 
 
 heavy and cruel and crushing came smashing down 
 upon me, striking me a terrific blow upon the back 
 of my head and neck, and sending me staggering 
 forward to fall, blinded and stunned, into a mass of 
 vile refuse upon the floor, a million lights dancing 
 before my eyes while the light of sense and reason 
 ebbed out.
 
 CHAPTER X 
 NOT ALWAYS TO THE BOLD 
 
 T T AVE you ever heard a bird sing in the night ? 
 *- -* When I came back to consciousness or to 
 the borderland of it, my first sensation was that some 
 little feathered fellow was twittering away for dear 
 life near at hand. The impression was that it was 
 real that it was the first part of the real world 
 that my waking senses took hold of after a sleep of 
 some duration. When I became fully awake to feel- 
 ing and memory, however, the bird song was lost. 
 
 It was absolutely dark about me. There was 
 not so much as a thread of light anywhere visible. 
 As for sound, I am sure that if one were shut up in 
 a vault, it could not seem more silent. My own deep 
 breath as I rolled over on my side and sat up echoed 
 dully in the space of the room in which I lay. 
 
 I had not much sensation of giddiness. A little 
 there was. But there was plenty of pain in my 
 head and neck and the sting of broken skin. But I 
 knew I was not greatly hurt because of the freedom 
 from deeper feeling of sickness. As recollection 
 of what had happened came back my first impulse 
 was to speak to the girl who, I supposed, must be 
 somewhere here with me. 
 
 123
 
 124 A Hand in the Game 
 
 " Hello there ! " I ventured. 
 
 There was no reply. Surely she must be fright- 
 ened half out of her wits. 
 
 " Hello ! " I repeated. " I'm a prisoner, too, it 
 seems." 
 
 Perfect silence. I held my own breath now to 
 listen for a sound of any stir. There was none. 
 
 " Don't be afraid," I persisted. " I came here as 
 a friend. Bain seems to have gotten the better of 
 me, too," I added with sudden rueful review of my 
 actions. How easy it is to see, in retrospect, wherein 
 we have been fools when we have met failure or 
 defeat. I could not but be sure that I had been 
 cleverly tricked, indeed. Here I was with a broken 
 head, a prisoner, when I had believed myself at the 
 top of an amazing wave of luck too amazing to 
 be true, I told myself, as I sat considering. 
 
 But I have no patience with grief over a lost 
 trick. I am ready to see when I've played my cards 
 wrong, but I want to play the next hand and not 
 cry over the last. That is why I do not always get 
 from meditation just what profit might be ex- 
 tracted, I suppose. It is also why I sometimes secure 
 an advantage. On the gridiron at college we were 
 coached to line up fast after a play, however much 
 it may have gone against us, and to put another 
 over as quickly as possible to play the other fellow 
 off his feet. It's not a bad method in any sort of 
 game. 
 
 I lighted a match. The first thing I saw was a
 
 Not Always to the Bold 125 
 
 hand well covered with my own blood. Then as 
 the little stick flamed up I saw the interior of a log- 
 hut some twelve feet square. On its floor was 
 nothing but stable refuse. On its walls there was 
 nothing at all. The ceiling was the under side of 
 a heavy board roof. There was no window. There 
 was but one door the heavy oak affair I had seen 
 first by the light of Judson Bain's match and it 
 was tight shut, evidently locked now. In one corner 
 was a pile of straw. On it lay a horse-blanket. 
 There seemed to be something under the blanket. 
 
 I rose to my feet. I let my match go out and 
 stretched cautiously, putting my hands up against 
 the roof, which I could just reach. Then I struck 
 a second match and moved slowly across the floor. 
 If any one were in the place at all it must be under 
 that blanket. There was no other hiding-place. I 
 held my match guarded by my hand and stooped 
 over the bed-like pile. Then I lifted the corner of 
 the blanket carefully. 
 
 I suppose every one has had the experience of 
 climbing stairs in the dark and has calculated on 
 one more step after reaching the top, putting the 
 foot out and down with expectation of finding a 
 final stair but coming down with that peculiarly 
 flat jolt of disappointment. I can think of no other 
 sensation to which to compare my own feeling when 
 I found no little human head there on that pallet. 
 I had believed so absolutely that just one person 
 was there, and that person a girl whose whereabouts
 
 iz6 A Hand in the Game 
 
 I would be glad indeed to discover, that I could not 
 believe the evidence of my eyes in the match-light 
 when what appeared to be merely a bunch of loose 
 cloth was discovered under the blanket. The reve- 
 lation was as complete a turn-over of confident ex- 
 pectation as I ever expect to experience. I simply 
 could not believe it. 
 
 I even paused to turn about and look again around 
 the silent hut. I drew the blanket on down and off 
 the straw with slow caution, half expecting still that 
 I should uncover a little cringing form. But no such 
 form was there, and the certainty slowly forced 
 itself upon me that I had been duped and fooled 
 beyond belief. Tricked, of course, and trapped, I 
 knew I had been. But that talk of Bain here in this 
 hut ! Had it been addressed to empty air ? Had he 
 known I followed him ? How far back then had he 
 known of my movements? Who had struck me 
 down? How much preparation had there been for 
 this trick upon me? How much did they know of 
 my purpose and aim in this place? How much of 
 what I thought I had learned, besides the misguid- 
 ing words that had hoodwinked me here, was also 
 false? 
 
 I dropped my second match and put my foot upon 
 it. Then I stood still in the darkness fairly awed by 
 the thing. I cannot say I was frightened. I was 
 puzzled and humiliated yes, shamed to the center 
 of my self-conceit. I felt the very blush of it heat 
 my face and neck as I thought of the enormous folly
 
 Not Always to the Bold 127 
 
 of which I had been guilty, and then a great qualm 
 of apprehension as I realized the cleverness of the 
 game that had been put up on me and the possibili- 
 ties for tricks upon my friends made feasible by my 
 blunder. 
 
 Of course, brute force to fight trickery suggests 
 itself to a chap of big muscles when he has been 
 cleverly tripped. The impulse to seize and crush 
 and break and kill something rushed upon me. Of 
 course, too, it was my hurt pride that prompted me. 
 But I felt that I must have action, and some sort 
 of violence would be the least that would satisfy 
 me. The oaken door offered an object upon which 
 I might at least expend a part of my rising head of 
 steam and I could not even wait to look for any 
 sort of tool or weapon, but leaped to it and tore at 
 it with my hands. 
 
 Naturally it resisted my foolish efforts. It was 
 as tight in its place as a drumhead and solid enough 
 to defy a dozen bare-handed men like me. It 
 brought me to a pause very promptly and I turned 
 away and back to the center of the hut with some 
 chagrin at the futile effort. 
 
 I lighted another match then and returned to the 
 straw pile in the corner. Mere curiosity suggested 
 a turning over of the articles of clothing there and 
 I stopped to shake them out. In that moment an- 
 other astonishing revelation came to me. No sooner 
 did I touch the stuff than I was struck by a curious 
 sense of familiarity in the appearance of the things,
 
 128 A Hand in the Game 
 
 and, as I picked up a man's coat and let it unroll 
 in loose folds in my hand, I knew it suddenly for 
 my own my coat that I had packed in my hunter's 
 pack and had left with my gun at the tenant-house 
 down in Cold Spring farmyard, not two hours 
 ago. 
 
 And the other things were all there. There was 
 my vest and some other extra clothing, of which 
 I had made up a bundle that I might not appear to 
 be traveling without luggage though I had not ex- 
 pected to use any of these things at Cold Spring. 
 My pack had been ruthlessly torn open evidently and 
 the contents had been brought here in anticipation 
 of my coming. Of course the gun was not there 
 nor anything that could be considered a weapon 
 and the reason for opening my pack was clear in 
 this. 
 
 The meaning of my imprisonment here was not 
 far to seek. If Bain knew enough of me to recog- 
 nize in me an enemy, he knew enough to want to 
 keep me perhaps even to plan some rich revenge 
 upon me now for the upset I had given him in our 
 first encounter. If he really knew who I was, how 
 he must now be gloating over me, I thought; and 
 I began myself to see some of the humorous fea- 
 tures of my discomfiture. But a much more inter- 
 esting task was an attempt to construct if possible 
 the chain of occurrences that had led to this unlucky 
 turn. 
 
 My mind naturally went back to the incident of
 
 Not Always to the Bold 129 
 
 the telephone and I remembered the pale-faced drug 
 clerk. He might have overheard my talk with 
 Barnaby or enough of it to give him a clue to my 
 quest. If he had been friendly with Bain it would 
 be natural for him to send a warning to Cold Spring 
 perhaps. I was not in a mood to be cock-sure of 
 my own theories. Granting this, however, or that 
 information had early reached Bain that some one 
 was coming to Cold Spring Farm, and that some one 
 in search of Luella Westfall, the rest was explain- 
 able. I let my light die out and sat down on the 
 straw to consider it all. It would have been simple, 
 for instance, for Bain himself to get a look at me 
 while I sat unconscious of suspicion at the fore- 
 man's table. It would have been easy to have me 
 carefully watched and followed. I could hardly be- 
 lieve that the conversation to which I had listened 
 in the porch had been invented for my benefit, how- 
 ever, for it seemed too natural to be the product of 
 an artificial situation. But I was not certain of 
 that even. Somewhere the tricking began some- 
 where between the time I had left my room in the 
 tenant cottage and had slid down the lean-to roof 
 and the moment when the blow had been struck at 
 me from behind when I stood in the doorway of 
 the log-hut where I now was. Just where I had 
 begun to follow other leading than my own ini- 
 tiative I could not guess. 
 
 As for my present situation I seemed to be in for 
 a night's stay in my prison at least. Since I had
 
 130 A Hand in the Game 
 
 come back to consciousness I had heard no sound to 
 indicate that any person was in my vicinity. I might 
 or I might not be guarded. I was quite effectually 
 imprisoned. Perhaps Bain would conclude, quite 
 naturally, that a fellow who could be so easily duped 
 into a trap could be safely trusted not to escape from 
 so stout a little box as this. 
 
 I did some earnest thinking. A conclusion rather 
 more impressive than welcome was that the game 
 is not always to the bold. That is one of the fal- 
 lacies that is preached at youth in many ways in 
 these days. The game is to the bold, only when he 
 is also wise. 
 
 Whether it was this sort of cogitation that put 
 me into a state of somnolence I cannot say. The 
 somewhat surprising truth is, however, that I went 
 to sleep after a period of it. Perhaps the loss of 
 a quantity of blood from the wound in my neck 
 had to do with it. At any rate I slept heavily. 
 And when I woke there was light at the chinks 
 around the door seen from within this time 
 and birds were twittering in earnest, and it was 
 day. 
 
 It was as quiet, except for the wood-noises, as it 
 had been in the night, however. Apparently no one 
 was near, or had come near the place, since I had 
 been locked into it. Whatever the intention of my 
 enemy regarding me if he had one he had appar- 
 ently slept upon the situation. So had I. He had 
 no advantage of me in that. Moreover, I felt better.
 
 Not Always to the Bold 131 
 
 No headache; my neck was very sore but the blood 
 was dry now and so I concluded that the worst of 
 the injury was over. My condition was good and 
 I readily recovered from most hurts. That was a 
 reason for fearing them comparatively little, I sup- 
 pose. My principal physical sensation on waking 
 was one of thirst. 
 
 A little light came into the interior of the hut. 
 There was enough by which to verify the impres- 
 sions I had obtained by match-light. I got up and 
 poked about the walls and door again in the dim- 
 ness, seeking without expectation for something I 
 might have overlooked. I found nothing that was 
 worth consideration. I discovered that I could see 
 out between the edge of the door and its casing and 
 could clearly define the lines of the bolt and bar 
 across that exceedingly narrow opening, and this 
 suggested the use of a pocket-knife to cut away the 
 edge of the plank till I could touch, and possibly 
 manipulate, those fastenings. But as my pocket- 
 knife was a silver-handled affair whose largest blade 
 was two inches long, and, as the plank was of two- 
 inch oak, I decided against such an attempt. I 
 might succeed in cutting a way to the bolts in the 
 course of a couple of days or so, but I am not of the 
 temper to wax enthusiastic over such a prospect. 
 
 But patience was absolutely the only quality that 
 was worth cultivating that morning. My watch 
 informed me that I had neglected to wind it the 
 night before so I had to guess at the time. The
 
 132 A Hand in the Game 
 
 sunlight found its way through a crack in the wall 
 at one side of the room and I watched it creep across 
 the place, looking in the dust through which it shone 
 like a long gilded wizard-brush, stretched out to 
 paint a streak across the straw and litter on the 
 floor. Only no streak was left behind. The pig- 
 ment magically followed the magic brush about 
 as ink will follow a pen with which one strives to 
 write on oiled paper. And I guessed that it was 
 sunrise, and eight o'clock and nine and ten and noon 
 in slow, slow succession. 
 
 It grew unpleasant, that little stuffy, tight place. 
 I have no superlatives to apply to it now, for if I 
 yielded to the superlative impulse I might say some- 
 thing objectionable. But from sunrise to noon in 
 April is quite a stretch. I had plenty of time to 
 think, to grow more thirsty, to think and to grow 
 more thirsty. Then I had time to grow deeply 
 wroth and more wroth and to begin really to feel 
 distress for water. Still the silent minutes and half 
 minutes and seconds and half seconds dragged 
 away! I had time to go over every one of the 
 swift events of my wonderful yesterday, which had 
 been as full of amazingly rapid action as to-day 
 was of silence and enforced rest. I had time to 
 think of what a contrast my situation and all my 
 desires and wishes to-day presented to my aims and 
 plans of two days back. I had time to think of the 
 fortune waiting for me in the city toward which I 
 had been hastening and of the strange event that
 
 Not Always to the Bold 133 
 
 had turned me from my eagerness to possess it. I 
 had time to think of a brave girl, of whose very 
 existence I had not dreamed when I began my jour- 
 ney but for whom I was now willing yes, even 
 glad to be at war with a dangerous enemy if only 
 I had not been such a consummate fool as to esti- 
 mate him at so low a figure.
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 NOR TO THE PATIENT 
 
 T HAD time to think all the thoughts that might 
 - naturally come. Why rehearse them? And 
 when I heard footsteps on the path outside after 
 my magic brush had painted and picked up its magic 
 streak more than halfway across my prison I was 
 ready to welcome my clever enemy himself, for very 
 company's sake. And he had come. 
 
 " Are you ready to be sensible ? " 
 
 Think of it. That was the question he put to me 
 through the door of that hut when he stood by the 
 barred oak. I laugh as I think of it now. He was 
 a joker Judson Bain a joker. 
 
 ' Yes," I answered as promptly as I ever replied 
 in my life to a question. 
 
 "Will you be quiet?" 
 
 " Of course." 
 
 " I have a man with me with a gun ! He won't 
 hesitate to shoot," he warned me. 
 
 I looked out through a crack low in the wall. I 
 could see the legs of two of them. 
 
 ' You won't need your gun," I answered. 
 
 The wooden bar was raised and the bolt pushed 
 back. The door opened a bit and the fat face of 
 
 134
 
 Nor to the Patient 135 
 
 my captor-in-chief looked in. He grinned when he 
 saw me seated on my straw. He motioned to the 
 man behind him to come up, and himself stepped 
 inside. I was relieved and thankful to see that he 
 had brought a basket with him and better still a big 
 bottle of water. I stirred promptly to get up, for 
 the thirst was burning my throat. 
 
 " Sit still," commanded Bain promptly. " Jack," 
 he added to the man with him, " if he moves fill him 
 full of bird-shot." 
 
 The other man stood in the doorway. I looked 
 at him in silent astonishment. He was my Irish 
 friend of the evening supper, the barn-boss. In his 
 hands he held a shotgun my own little cheap gun 
 and both hammers of the thing were drawn back, as 
 evidently ready for business as if they had expected 
 me to leap upon them. The implication might be 
 considered flattering. I did not dwell upon it, how- 
 ever. 
 
 " How have you slept?" asked Bain facetiously. 
 
 " Well, thank you," I answered him, and I chalked 
 the count against him on my mental record for an 
 accounting to come. 
 
 " Hmph ! " he remarked. " Well, I have no mind 
 to starve you to death. Here's some food." 
 
 This sounded too decent to be consistent. I did 
 not venture an answer. 
 
 " Now," said he, " if you'll tell me who you are 
 and why you are spying on me why you came to 
 attack me in my office and followed me up here
 
 136 A Hand in the Game 
 
 we may get to some basis for an understanding. 
 When a man is my enemy I like to know why." 
 
 It was a curious attempt at bluff, hearty, courage- 
 ous talk; I sounded the shallowness of it but I an- 
 swered him freely enough. I was impressed that 
 I held one advantage in having once played the fool 
 for him. He would look for the like from me 
 again perhaps. 
 
 " Why didn't you ask me a fair question like that 
 in the first place? " I asked. 
 
 " Why should you come here, a stranger, and take 
 part in a fight with which you had nothing to do ? " 
 he responded. 
 
 " I started no fight with you," I answered. 
 
 " You came as young Philbric's emissary," he 
 growled. 
 
 " I never heard of Philbric till you mentioned 
 him," I told him. 
 
 He stared. " Of course that's a lie," he said. 
 
 " It was just such a remark as that which started 
 our trouble yesterday," said I. 
 
 " Well, there won't be any trouble to-day." 
 
 " No not while you have your man and your 
 gun at hand." 
 
 " Who are you ? " he asked. 
 
 " You had my card." 
 
 " Yes. Your name is Randall. What are you ? " 
 
 " I'm a young man who had not the slightest hos- 
 tility to you yesterday morning, Judson Bain," I 
 answered.
 
 Nor to the Patient 137 
 
 " What brought you to my office with that note ? " 
 He looked at me with puzzlement clear in his eyes. 
 
 " The chance request of a lady," said I, willing to 
 show him his own unwisdom now. 
 
 "Oh Donna Philbric?" 
 
 " Miss Philbric." 
 
 "She sent you?" 
 
 " She asked me to deliver that note to you." 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 " Well, the answer is up to you." 
 
 " I thought " He hesitated. 
 
 " You jumped to the conclusion that I was an 
 enemy." 
 
 He scowled at me. " Why did you come up 
 here?" 
 
 " To find you." 
 
 "Why, I say?" 
 
 " That's the answer." 
 
 " No ; but what do you want now you've found 
 me?" 
 
 " I came because I hadn't much faith in the town 
 marshal. I've started suit against you for assault." 
 
 He gave a short laugh. " You have, eh ? " 
 
 " I have." 
 
 " And your witnesses ? " 
 
 " I shall have little trouble making out a case," 
 said I. 
 
 He paused again. " But that wasn't what brought 
 you here," he asserted. 
 
 " All right," said I. " What did? "
 
 138 A Hand in the Game 
 
 " Why did you sneak a look at Scancey's tele- 
 grams ? " 
 
 I suppose I started at that, for he immediately 
 laughed again. But I answered that readily, too. 
 " To trace you," I said. 
 
 " How did you know I had left town? " 
 
 " You were seen to go." 
 
 It was his turn to start now. He did, and he 
 glanced hastily at the barn-boss, who was listening 
 with avid interest. 
 
 " Did you see me?" 
 
 " No oh, no," answered I, and laughed in my 
 turn, too. 
 
 " Why did you come, then ? " 
 
 " I told you." 
 
 I saw that he did not dare to ask me the question 
 to which he really wanted an answer, at least in 
 the presence of his man. I was willing, therefore, 
 to play with his dilemma. 
 
 " Go ahead," I said, " ask me the thing you want 
 to." 
 
 He looked again at the Irishman. " I want to 
 know your reasons for coming up here," was the 
 answer he made, however. 
 
 " I came, Mr. Bain, because I knew you were 
 here. If I had not been careless you would not have 
 caught me here. You know what I came to seek. 
 The person who told you I was coming could not 
 know that fact without knowing my quest. Now 
 you understand ? "
 
 Nor to the Patient 139 
 
 He began to lose his temper. " You're a fool ! " 
 he exclaimed. 
 
 " Oh," said I, " I know that. I'm a lot bigger 
 fool now than I shall be again immediately." 
 
 " You are going to stay here for awhile," he 
 threatened. 
 
 " Very likely," I answered. 
 
 " You'll stay here till you are ready to tell me 
 the truth about who you are and why you are my 
 enemy." 
 
 " Or," I amended, " till my friends come after 
 me." 
 
 "Your friends?" 
 
 " Yes. They know quite well where I am." 
 
 " Do they ? " He laughed again more easily. 
 " They may think you are at Cold Spring." 
 
 I did not reply to that. It was true that my 
 friends might have difficulty in finding me if I were 
 confined here long enough to arouse their suspicions. 
 But my friends were of very new making and they 
 had troubles of their own quite as vital as mine. 
 What would be their attitude toward me if they 
 failed to hear from me for a day or two and if 
 their own difficulties pressed hard? The reflection 
 was not reassuring, and Bain, who watched me 
 shrewdly while I went over my case, suddenly 
 laughed again at his reading of my face. 
 
 " I guess that would be a good one to leave you 
 to think about," he said. 
 
 I had no reply for this either. I had no choice
 
 140 A Hand in the Game 
 
 with that shotgun staring my way but to take what 
 he said. But I understood now more of what he 
 intended, more of his power and of its limitations ; 
 also, curious as it may seem, my thirst was suf- 
 ficient at that moment to cause me only impatience 
 that he should be gone, so that I might be at that 
 bottle of water even at the price of prolonged im- 
 prisonment. 
 
 " Well," he said, grinning, " I think we'll try it. 
 I'll come again later and see how you do. Perhaps 
 you'll have arrived at some decision." 
 
 He and his man went out. They closed the door 
 and barred it. No sooner were their footsteps in the 
 path than that water bottle was at my lips, and I 
 think I never tasted drink that was equal to its con- 
 tents. I think I drank a quart. And I felt enough 
 better for it to be entirely cheerful over my own 
 prospects. 
 
 My only worry, indeed, most of the time, was 
 about affairs at The Hazels. I could but guess what 
 might be going on there to-day. I hoped that Bain's 
 absence would have the effect of delaying matters in 
 the case against Hal and that I might yet manage 
 an escape to be of use to him and to Donna. I 
 should have enough against Judson Bain now when 
 I should be at liberty to make things hot for him. 
 Naturally he also knew that and he would protect 
 himself if he could. How far he would go in deal- 
 ing with me I could not foresee. I felt quite cer- 
 tain that he would use as rigorous measures as he
 
 Nor to the Patient 141 
 
 dared. If he were convinced that my friends could 
 not find me he might not hesitate to keep me here 
 for a protracted period. I might have difficulty, in- 
 deed, in proving anything against him afterwards. 
 He was of the sort to dare just that kind of thing 
 if hard-pressed, and I believed my following the trail 
 of the girl to Cold Spring had pressed him hard 
 indeed. 
 
 I ate some of the luncheon I found in the basket. 
 It was bread and meat mainly, with a bottle of salt 
 and one of pepper for seasoning. It was just such 
 a combination as a man who was unused to such a 
 task would be likely to throw together. It argued 
 to my mind that few of the household at the farm 
 were in the secret of my capture. I was hungry 
 enough to relish the fare, however, and did full 
 justice to it. When I had finished I sat again upon 
 my cot and fell to studying my case. 
 
 The prospect was that I would have some hours 
 now to wait again before I should receive another 
 visit from Bain. Whether he would come that 
 afternoon or the following morning I had no means 
 of judging. If he chose to wait twenty-four hours 
 I was helpless to hurry him. What I desired to do 
 must do now was to plan a stratagem to try 
 upon him when he should come. It was to this, 
 then, that I bent my mind as I lay back in the place 
 where I had spent the night and the morning and 
 watched my sunbeam go on its way across the floor. 
 And I thought to good purpose.
 
 142 A Hand in the Game 
 
 I began by a systematic consideration of means 
 at hand, an inventory of the contents of the hut, 
 indeed, with which I might put up a fight or a sur- 
 prise against the odds that would oppose me. It 
 did not seem hopeful at first, but necessity will al- 
 ways mother some sort of invention if it is really 
 necessity and I was convinced mine was real. I 
 spent some hours even finding a clue to a scheme 
 upon which to work, so I cannot claim that the game 
 I attempted was an inspiration. But I did evolve 
 a plan. And I put it into effect, too. 
 
 The long afternoon dragged away. It was dull 
 enough for the most part, but toward its close when 
 I got my idea and when I began to hope for an 
 early opportunity to try its efficacy I also began to 
 find plenty of interest and amusement in it. Indeed, 
 I recollect distinctly a laugh or two in which I in- 
 dulged, in the earnest hope I commenced to entertain 
 that success might perch upon my banners, as it 
 were. If success refused to perch it is true there 
 was an excellent chance that I might find a charge 
 or two of bird-shot as the reward of my pains. 
 That had its serious side certainly. But I meant 
 to have my try and to put up a fight at any rate. 
 
 I had made some preparations. One thing I had 
 done was to roll upon my lead pencil the paper that 
 had covered my luncheon in the basket, making a 
 tube thereof. I had fastened the outer layer by slit- 
 ting the sheet with my knife and pulling a tongue 
 of the next layer through as I have seen letters
 
 Nor to the Patient 143 
 
 fastened together in business offices. It made a neat 
 tube about two feet long like a boy's putty-blower, 
 and that was my weapon. I had selected my am- 
 munition also ? Indeed, it had been the ammunition 
 with which my idea had started. And I had a plan 
 rather carefully sketched out for using it. 
 
 As the afternoon light dwindled to twilight, how- 
 ever, and then to velvet darkness again my hope 
 began to dwindle somewhat. I began to fear that 
 Bain intended to give me a longer time to think 
 over my position than I could possibly desire or 
 that he had made up his mind to the radical course 
 of simply keeping me shut up till he was ready to 
 liberate me and let me go and do as I liked. It was 
 a rather helpless position in which I was placed if 
 he chose to do that. But just as I had almost lost 
 expectation of seeing him again that night I heard 
 his now welcome voice in the thicket outside and 
 knew that the test of my stratagem was at hand. 
 And I rose to the play with a sort of fierce joy in 
 it upon me that made me feel ready to strike hard 
 blows indeed if the opportunity offered.
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 SOMETIMES TO THE WISE 
 
 THE door of the hut opened inward. When 
 Bain and his red-faced barn-boss had come 
 in the morning the former had unbarred the door 
 and peered in while his aid stood outside with the 
 gun in readiness in case the prisoner should prove 
 obstreperous. I hoped that some such order might 
 prevail to-night, though I cared little which of the 
 two I dealt with first. 
 
 When I heard them coming I was like a boy with 
 a Hallowe'en trick to perpetrate. It was a rather 
 pleasurable sensation, after nearly twenty-four 
 hours of inactivity and confinement, to have some- 
 thing definite to do and to be planning a fight. And 
 when the steps of the men on the path outside be- 
 came plainly audible I stood in my corner by the 
 straw ready to begin my end of the program. 
 
 I was somewhat taken aback when I discovered 
 that, instead of the ordinary lantern light I had half 
 expected them to bring, they appeared to have an 
 electric torch. The ray of it was easily recognizable 
 as it played on the ground and about the hut at 
 their approach. This fact embarrassed me, for I 
 hoped for equal advantages of light at least between 
 
 144
 
 Sometimes to the Wise 145 
 
 us. But I swiftly decided that my plan was good 
 enough to try even with this added handicap against 
 me and I held to my resolution. 
 
 Bain came up to the door exactly as he had 
 earlier. 
 
 " Hello there ! " he saluted me. 
 
 " I'm here," said I from the corner of the straw, 
 striving to put the sound of weariness and depres- 
 sion into my voice. There was a snicker at my re- 
 sponse and I suppose that from their standpoint it 
 did sound amusing. 
 
 " Have you a match ? " asked Bain. 
 
 " Yes," said I. 
 
 " Light it," he commanded. 
 
 I had a serious objection to compliance, not be- 
 cause the light would betray my scheme but because 
 both hands were fully occupied. I hesitated. 
 
 " Well ? " said my captor inquiringly. 
 
 " I thought I had another," I answered on the 
 spur of the moment. 
 
 Bain laughed. " Don't like the dark, eh ? " he 
 inquired. 
 
 " I've been trying to dispel some of it," I an- 
 swered, impatient for my opportunity. 
 
 " Well," said the man at the door, " you sit still 
 where you are. If you are on your feet when I open 
 the door we'll shoot." 
 
 " Do you think I'm a fool ? " I asked. 
 
 I heard him begin unfastening the bars. I stepped 
 softly forward in the darkness. Next moment the
 
 146 A Hand in the Game 
 
 door swung inward and instantly the electric torch 
 ray swept the interior in a circle rounding toward 
 the straw cot. Above it I saw the shadow of a head 
 against the light outside, and back of that the bar- 
 rels of the gun, with a reflected glint in them that 
 advised me of their closeness. 
 
 I put my little paper tube to my lips and aimed 
 it at the face that was turning toward me. And 
 then as the glare came close I blew viciously upon 
 the thing and sent my welcome home. 
 
 If the surprise were not as complete as mine the 
 night before it was good enough. The light went 
 out with instant relaxation of the hand that held 
 it and I knew I had hit my mark. There was a wild 
 curse and gasp and then a hoarse shriek of pain, and 
 the dark blockade in the doorway fell back and 
 away. Doubling down to as low a posture as I 
 dared to take I made a dive through the opening, 
 clubbing the heavy water bottle as my remaining 
 weapon. I saw a figure turning and writhing on 
 the path and another upright and poised against a 
 gray patch of starlit sky. I threw my bottle in- 
 stantly at the latter and heard a grunt as it struck, 
 thanks be, and then I plunged into the bushes out 
 of gunshot, with the open fields before me and only 
 the cries of the wounded on the battle-ground be- 
 hind. And laughter nearly undid me as I actually 
 paused to listen in the gloom of a sweet-smelling 
 meadow to the bellowings of the man I had effectu- 
 ally incapacitated for one time. For Judson Bain
 
 Sometimes to the Wise 147 
 
 would not see again that night by torch-light or 
 otherwise. My ammunition for my blow-gun had 
 been a good-sized ounce of cayenne pepper. 
 
 The running was good across that field. I re- 
 membered directions sufficiently well to point my 
 way toward the stream, and when I reached the 
 bluff and scrambled down and splashed my way 
 through water that came up to my hips and was 
 cold, the shape of the valley itself guided me back 
 within sight of the lights at the farm. After that 
 my problem was rather to think of appearances than 
 to find my way. 
 
 I knew that my head and neck and hands must 
 still be covered with blood that had dried upon them 
 and which I had had no opportunity to remove. 
 This, with my water-saturated trousers and boots, 
 must have made of me an object that would have 
 little resemblance to a civilized being should I ap- 
 pear to an unexpectant person in a light. My first 
 task must be to get a clean up if possible and the 
 prospect did not seem good. It was a serious dif- 
 ficulty, too, for there was no chance to avoid close 
 observance if any one caught sight of me in this 
 condition. I was six miles from the town, where 
 I would be safe enough with whatever story of ex- 
 planation I cared to give. On Conrad's farm or 
 even in Bain's neighborhood I could not safely 
 guess at friend and foe. 
 
 But I could not hesitate and the recollection that 
 I had not yet accomplished all that I had come for
 
 148 A Hand in the Game 
 
 drove me suddenly to audacious enterprise. As I 
 ran down the path that led to the farmyard I re- 
 flected that it was quite probable not more than 
 one or two people on the place knew of my imprison- 
 ment. The one place where Bain and his farm-boss 
 would think last of looking for me, if they thought 
 it worth while now to look at all, would be on the 
 farm. It was late enough so that most of the hands 
 would be off duty and either in town or at the 
 tenant-houses. I made up my mind to try for a 
 clean up at the very house to which I had been as- 
 signed the night before. 
 
 As I passed the gate into the yard proper, there- 
 fore, I slowed my pace to a rapid walk, crossed past 
 the big horse-barn and the men's dining-rooms and 
 so to the house where I had had a room. There 
 were no lights here and the door was not locked. I 
 went in without hesitation and ran up the stairs. 
 I found the door of my room at the end of the 
 upper hall, entered and turned on the light. The 
 shade was up and I drew it, and then without pause 
 I poured water into the bowl and plunged into such 
 ablutions as I could perform with utmost haste. 
 
 One can do much in five minutes. I calculated 
 that I would have so much leeway. I took it, 
 scrubbed away the signs of my adventures, bound a 
 handkerchief about my neck and let it lie over my 
 ruined collar, combed my hair with a bone comb 
 from the small washstand and saw by the mirror 
 that I had made at least a reasonable success of
 
 Sometimes to the Wise 149 
 
 the whole undertaking. I took off my coat and 
 made a scrub at the collar of it with a wet towel, 
 getting most of the stains off the corduroy, too, 
 with the cold water. Then I put on the coat again 
 and shut off my light. As I did so I heard noisy 
 cries and shoutings in the yard. 
 
 I ran down the stairs and out. Several people 
 were rushing about and all were centering upon a 
 group coming up the path. I could guess who made 
 a nucleus for the little bunch of people, but I did 
 not pause to inquire. I wanted a hat and the mo- 
 ment seemed a possible one to get the article. I 
 ran around the house by the way with which I had 
 become acquainted the night before and up to the 
 broad front steps. A man was smoking in front 
 of the open front doors. Inside I saw, where I had 
 seen it the previous evening, a rack hung with coats 
 and hats. 
 
 I ran up the steps. " Quick ! " I gasped to the 
 fellow there. " Bain's hurt and they're hard after 
 us. Where's the girl ! " 
 
 I caught his arm. As I did so I saw that he was 
 my bushy-haired acquaintance of the night before. 
 It flashed upon me that he might even be the man 
 Conrad, who was called by the suggestive title of 
 Curly. I took the chance. He was a little chap 
 anyhow and I could throw him over my head if 
 need be. 
 
 " Quick, Conrad ! " I insisted. " They're gunning 
 for us."
 
 150 A Hand in the Game 
 
 His eyes opened like a frightened child's but he 
 held back. 
 
 " Who who are you ? " he gasped. 
 
 " I'm the fellow that telephoned," I answered, 
 and swung him around to the light so that my back 
 might be toward it. " Scancey sent me ! " 
 
 Suddenly he started under my grasp, for a loud 
 shout rang through the yards. 
 
 "All hands out! Help! Burglars! Thieves! 
 Fire ! " That was the cry. It echoed over the lawn 
 and among the buildings and startled the quiet night 
 into an uproar. 
 
 " There ! " I cried aloud. " Now, quick ! Where 
 is she?" 
 
 The little man backed weakly against the door, 
 " She's gone ! " he answered. " They won't find 
 her. Tell Scancey they took her up to Hart to 
 OldDrom!"
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 SHAKEN CONFIDENCE 
 
 T DROPPED him. I had no time to go for a cap 
 * now. I had time only to run out into the dark- 
 ness again with a yell of fire on my lips to add a 
 touch of realism to my going, for his benefit, though 
 he looked too nearly palsied to notice me. And in 
 a moment more I was in the road running with all 
 the power of a pair of fairly nimble legs for the 
 village. 
 
 No one stopped me. I went straight in to Chettes- 
 worth in fairly rapid time. I found a quiet town 
 with no alarm abroad. Indeed, it was getting late 
 at that time and all really good citizens seemed to 
 be in bed. I felt rather guilty even to rouse my 
 good German landlady and give her my week's rent, 
 but I had no further use for her room now and I 
 learned at the station that a train would leave at 
 midnight that would take me back to Hazelhurst. 
 
 I was still hatless and was without gun and pack, 
 but I told my landlady I had gotten into deep water 
 yp among the hills and lost them all, and promptly 
 she brought me a soft hat from somewhere among 
 her possessions that was not a bad fit, though it did 
 not serve to make my appearance more reputable. 
 
 151
 
 152 A Hand in the Game 
 
 Still, I was glad to have it, for a hatless man is a 
 conspicuous object, especially at night. 
 
 I sat on the station platform till the train came, 
 expecting still that an alarm would come in from 
 Cold Spring Farm. But none arrived before my 
 train, and my departure was disgustingly peaceful. 
 At three o'clock in the morning I was again in the 
 quiet streets of Hazelhurst, on the very corner, in- 
 deed, where only sixty hours before I had flung my 
 ball of snow at the wooden image. Just sixty-two 
 hours ago ! It seemed far, far back in the past. 
 
 I got into the hotel, but no one, proprietor, clerk 
 or servant, was about. So I sat in a chair by a cold 
 radiator till daylight, reading yesterday's black 
 headlines in the papers, accounts of the Philbric case 
 which told nothing new, dozing and shivering a bit 
 but not utterly wretched. After that I got breakfast 
 and a room and did some thorough cleaning up. At 
 seven-thirty I was on the road to The Hazels once 
 more behind a fairly good horse, with mingled feel- 
 ings of foreboding and eager anticipation for com- 
 pany besides the stable-boy who drove me. 
 
 I found King out walking in the public road be- 
 fore the grounds when we arrived and I got down 
 at once and dismissed my boy. 
 
 He did not offer to shake hands with me and 
 I thought him a trifle cold, but I attributed it 
 promptly to anxiety. We approached each other 
 with questions in the eyes and on the lips of each. 
 
 " How are they? " asked I.
 
 Shaken Confidence 153 
 
 "Any clue? " queried he. 
 
 And then we answered together. I told him in 
 three sentences all the essentials of my adventure. 
 It would be useless to detail the story to him, I 
 thought. I ended with a question about the place 
 to which the scared little man in the porch had told 
 me the girl had been removed. 
 
 "Hart? Old Drom?" he repeated after me. 
 " Oh yes. Old Drom is short for Old Dromedary 
 and it's a two-humped old mountain up back of the 
 village of Hart about eighty miles west. Bain's 
 got a railroad that runs up into the mountains there, 
 and some timber interests." 
 
 " Does Barnaby know the place?" 
 
 " Sure." 
 
 "Then let's tell him. I've effectually ended my 
 own usefulness as a spy upon Bain. He'll be on the 
 outlook for me now." 
 
 I thought King's handsome face clouded at the 
 word, but he did not comment. " Yes," he said, 
 " we'll tell Barnaby. He can handle the matter." 
 
 "And Hal?" I asked then. 
 
 " Hal is in bad shape," he answered slowly. " If 
 we can't do something in this case quickly Bain 
 and Scancey will get their revenge and their pro- 
 tection, too, without striking another blow." 
 
 "You mean?" 
 
 " I mean that the thing is so preying on Hal's 
 mind that there will be basis for an insanity inquiry 
 if we don't relieve him."
 
 154 A Hand in the Game 
 
 I had feared it. " And Donna ? " I asked, using 
 the girl's given name quite unconsciously and inno- 
 cently in my earnest solicitude. 
 
 My companion looked suddenly at me with sharp 
 examination. 
 
 " Donna ? " he answered. " She is as brave as 
 could be expected." 
 
 I felt that there was a shade of question about me 
 in his mind now. I can scarcely blame him as I 
 look back upon the time, but I resented it then and 
 I believe the breach that came between us two began 
 in a rift of confidence at that moment. 
 
 " What does Doctor Graham say of Philbric ? " I 
 asked. 
 
 " Just what he has from the first." 
 
 " Has Scancey made any move ? " 
 
 " None." 
 
 " And the coroner ? " 
 
 " The jury met yesterday. They withheld a ver- 
 dict." 
 
 "Withheld a verdict!" 
 
 " Insufficient evidence." 
 
 I stared at him. " Why, how could they, man? " 
 
 " They did." 
 
 " But if they haven't evidence of guilt they must 
 acquit." 
 
 " They can investigate further." 
 
 lf They can. Have they done that ? " 
 
 :f They sent officers here again yesterday." 
 
 "Not to arrest Hal?"
 
 Shaken Confidence 155 
 
 " No. We had another search and another pain- 
 ful examination of Philbric. We had more sug- 
 gestions of mental irresponsibility." 
 
 " From Graham ? " I asked sharply. 
 
 " Graham ! " King looked at me. " That sounds 
 as if you thought Doctor Graham had put forward 
 that theory," he said. 
 
 " He did," I answered, " to Hal." 
 
 King's eyes examined my face again. " Mr. 
 Randall," he said, " Doctor Graham is too wise a 
 physician and too old a friend of the family to make 
 such a suggestion about a member of it. I should 
 suppose a man of your long intimacy with the Phil- 
 brics would know that." 
 
 His eyes grew sharp as they remained fixed on 
 mine and again I began to resent his attitude. What 
 had changed him toward me? Had he been told 
 the story of my peculiar introduction to this house 
 of Philbric and did he look upon me with suspicion ? 
 I could not guess, but I did not intend to give him 
 the information myself. I gave the subject a fling 
 that might lead us away from the ground he had 
 touched. 
 
 " Graham said enough in my hearing to show that 
 Hal had the impression from him, Mr. King," I 
 said, and I could not keep a trace of coldness out 
 of my tone. " Besides," I added, " he was the only 
 friend with Philbric for an hour or two after the 
 shooting." 
 
 " Hal couldn't have had a better one," said King.
 
 156 A Hand in the Game 
 
 A sudden idea leaped into my mind. " King! " 
 I exclaimed. " Who was the first person to ex- 
 amine the body of Clarence Salver after the shoot- 
 ing?" 
 
 We stood in the road together just at the entrance 
 gates to the grounds. We had paused in our walk 
 toward the house, unconsciously facing each other 
 in quite natural, but wholly instinctive, expression 
 of our mental attitudes. 
 
 " Mr. Randall," said King, persisting now in the 
 formal address, " what have you against Graham ? " 
 
 " I have not expressed a feeling against Doctor 
 Graham," I answered. 
 
 " You have even if unconsciously," he said. 
 
 " Then I'll confess it," I answered. 
 
 " And so you would raise a question against 
 him?" 
 
 " I have raised no question against Graham," 
 said I. " I asked who first examined Salver's 
 body." 
 
 He still studied my face. I was studying his now. 
 We were almost combative and I felt a vague sense 
 of regret over the fact at the moment, for I liked 
 and respected Robert King. 
 
 " I suppose Hal himself or old John Kent, the 
 butler, must have made the first search for the let- 
 ters," he said slowly and with careful articulation. 
 
 I put my hand out upon his shoulder with sudden 
 impulse to break down the misunderstanding that 
 was rising between us. " Look here, King," said I,
 
 Shaken Confidence 157 
 
 " this won't do. We are splitting apart, you and I. 
 You don't know me but you must take me on faith 
 as a friend of the family as I take you." 
 
 " There are no secrets about me," he said, draw- 
 ing away from my hand, " and I do not raise un- 
 warranted suspicions against other friends of the 
 family, who have been tried out and found true." 
 
 " King," said I, " some one has been poisoning 
 your mind against me. I shall not attempt to justify 
 myself till you tell me frankly what you have against 
 me." 
 
 A moment's look of uncertainty clouded his eyes, 
 but he did not answer me as frankly as I had made 
 my question. 
 
 ' You are an utter stranger to me, Mr. Randall," 
 he said, " and to Barnaby, and to Graham." He 
 paused, then turned suddenly away from me. 
 " Shall we go to the house ? There's enough to do 
 there." 
 
 " I fancy we shall hear from Bain to-day," I 
 said, taking his lead, with slow anger toward him 
 beginning to burn in my heart. I admit I was not 
 reasonable. But he had spurned my attempt at an 
 understanding. 
 
 " Perhaps," he replied. 
 
 : ' You are out early," I suggested. I meant still 
 to do my share toward preserving amicable rela- 
 tions at least. 
 
 " I was looking for tracks," he answered abruptly. 
 
 "Tracks?"
 
 158 A Hand in the Game 
 
 " Yes man tracks." 
 
 " What do you mean ? " 
 
 " We are being spied upon also," he said shortly. 
 
 "Spies?" 
 
 " Yes. The game seems popular." 
 
 There was sting in this and I felt it. My anger 
 rose. I began to see that there was more than a 
 mere question as to the length of standing of my 
 friendship with the family in his mind. My pride 
 stirred. But I held my resentment well in hand. 
 
 " Apparently," I answered him. " You've seen 
 signs of them here? " I queried, interest in this new 
 development helping me to forget his offensive 
 manner. 
 
 " Somebody has prowled about the grounds for 
 two evenings since you've been gone," he said, 
 walking steadily along the gravel drive, without 
 looking at me. " Also, somebody has been putting 
 idiotic, melodramatic, but painfully disturbing mes- 
 sages in Hal's room in secret fashion. Somebody 
 who is an enemy has been playing worse havoc with 
 the boy's mind than any direct threat from Bain 
 could do." 
 
 My concern suddenly grew too deep for my anger 
 against him. " King," I exclaimed, " what's that ? 
 Secret messages? What anonymous notes, I sup- 
 pose ? " 
 
 " Yes, anonymous, of course," he answered, but 
 he turned to look at me again with a peculiar flash 
 of the eye, <( Yesterday morning the boy found
 
 Shaken Confidence 159 
 
 a letter in red ink on his dresser, bearing a crude 
 drawing of a man behind bars. At the top were 
 the words, ' Asylum for insane.' Below were the 
 boy's own initials, ' H. P.' " 
 
 I listened incredulous. This was strange indeed. 
 " Of course you haven't traced that to a source ? " 
 
 "Of course not. Last night there was another 
 a rough drawing of a grotesquely wild-looking 
 man laced in a strait-jacket with no explanatory 
 captions." 
 
 " And there's no evidence as to who brought it? " 
 asked I, fairly wincing myself as I thought of the 
 probable effect of such a thing on the sick boy. 
 
 " No evidence." King emphasized the second 
 word, and paused. I did not understand a double 
 meaning then and merely waited for him to con- 
 tinue. " And last night there was still another 
 equally crude and equally brutal a figure tied upon 
 a bed with face distorted and hands clinched 
 rather clever in a way and the words, ' The Fin- 
 ish,' beneath the picture." 
 
 I was silent. The thing was at once too exas- 
 perating and too dismaying for me to find ready 
 comment. 
 
 We were approaching the house now and on the 
 veranda I saw Donna Philbric. The sight of her 
 took away my wish to reply at the moment to King. 
 I went forward and up the steps to her eagerly. 
 
 She met me cordially enough to warm my heart 
 after the frigidity of King's greeting. She was
 
 160 A Hand in the Game 
 
 pale and her sweet face had evidence of pain and 
 anxiety in it. But the clasp of her fingers upon 
 mine meant friendship unshaken by what had clearly 
 disturbed the confidence of the others. My heart 
 went out to her in sympathy as she smiled up bravely 
 at me and said a kind good-morning. 
 
 We went into the house together, we three, Donna 
 between King and me, with her eager questions 
 turned first to me; and I told her my tale briefly 
 as I had told it first. She led us straight to the 
 breakfast room and we sat at table while the maids 
 brought us coffee. Aunt Charlotte joined us, but 
 Hal had remained in his room. There had been 
 no repetition of the trick that had been practised 
 against him three times. 
 
 " I had his room guarded last night," explained 
 King succinctly. 
 
 Whether Donna noted the strained relations be- 
 tween us, her friends, or not I could not tell. She 
 did not show it and naturally the conversation was 
 immediately upon the newest feature of Hal's 
 trouble. They told me that nothing had been done 
 toward solving the problem as to who was guilty 
 of putting the " red letters," as Donna called them, 
 in the boy's room. They had tried to keep the 
 matter secret and to detect the guilty person by 
 watching. It seemed that some servant must, of 
 course, be the agent in the conveyance of such mes- 
 sages if they came from outside enemies, but they 
 seemed unable to fix upon any one who had ready
 
 Shaken Confidence 161 
 
 access to the chambers as a person who could be 
 fairly suspected. 
 
 We discussed all sides of the matter, but it was 
 not till we adjourned to the library and found Hal 
 there ahead of us and painfully eager to take up 
 thorough investigation that we decided to question 
 the servants. 
 
 I could not see as I looked at Hal, who greeted 
 me almost joyfully, that there was material change 
 in his appearance. Indeed, his color was high and 
 his eyes bright and he seemed stronger and more 
 quiet in manner. It was only after some time that 
 I began to note the worst -symptoms. 
 
 It was Donna's own suggestion that I as the one 
 whose mind came freshest to the subject should 
 conduct the examination of the servants, and I can- 
 not deny some gratification in that trifling matter. 
 I was ready enough to ask questions, certainly, im- 
 patient to know and to deal out punishment to the 
 offender, and to extract such comfort for Hal as we 
 could from any revelations we might produce. So 
 I accepted the task somewhat to King's satisfaction, 
 I now believe.
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 HEARTS INSURGENT 
 
 TT7E began with old John, but not because we 
 suspected him. Certainly we did not. But 
 he it was who was chief of the servants and who 
 was conversant with all that had occurred. John 
 was a sure ally. He had been with the family from 
 the time when Congdon Philbric, Hal's father, had 
 brought home his bride when the big house was 
 new. His loyalty had been tried and proved. And 
 we began by taking him into our confidence. 
 
 " John/' I said to him when the vigorous old fel- 
 low came at Donna's call and stood before us, " have 
 you seen the notes Mr. Philbric has received?" 
 
 " Yes, sir," he answered promptly with an invol- 
 untary quick glance at Hal. 
 
 " All right then, you understand exactly what has 
 happened, do you not ? " 
 
 " I think so, sir." 
 
 His eyes were a good gray of the sort I like. I 
 have never known a man with that sort of gray eye 
 who was not truthful and a fighter, no matter what 
 his station in life. 
 
 " Did any strangers come about yesterday or to- 
 day, John ? " I asked him. 
 
 162
 
 Hearts Insurgent 163 
 
 He looked at me slightly puzzled. " Why, I 
 suppose so, sir. There's always a stranger or two 
 here during a day. Beggars will stop and there's 
 plenty of delivery boys and occasional workmen 
 about the place who don't regularly belong here. I 
 s'pose you'd call them strangers, sir." 
 
 " Could any one whom you do not know any one 
 of these strangers have had access to the room Hal 
 occupies, John, at the times when servants were not 
 about?" 
 
 He paused to consider. His eyes went from 
 face to face of us for a clue to our purpose or our 
 suspicions. It was clear that he had no guilty knowl- 
 edge of the thing. 
 
 " I won't say it isn't possible, Mr. Randall," he 
 replied, after a moment so. Then he asked his 
 question frankly. " What do you suspect, sir? " 
 
 I took the " red letters " which Donna had 
 brought me from the table where she had put them 
 and held them out to him. 
 
 " These, John, were put in Hal's room by some- 
 body either stranger or servant. They were found 
 on the dresser. Hal thinks they were intended for 
 him by his enemies." 
 
 He took the things and glanced at them, then read 
 the letters over slowly. His eyes widened a little. 
 
 " Now," said I, " could a stranger, or anybody 
 at all, get into the house and up to Hal's room, 
 which has always been Hal's, has it not? and leave 
 these things and get away again unseen? "
 
 164 A Hand in the Game 
 
 He hesitated again for a second's time. " Well, 
 Mr. Randall, this house hasn't been no guarded fort, 
 you know. We haven't been looking for spies and 
 fellows like that. But I think it would be a fairly 
 hard thing to do what you say." 
 
 " The room is a front room on the main hall? " 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 " And maids or somebody have been constantly 
 in the halls?" 
 
 " I should think so, sir." 
 
 " Doesn't it imply a servant's knowledge of the 
 house to be able to accomplish such a thing? " sug- 
 gested Donna. 
 
 " Not if somebody outside were in collusion with 
 a servant," said Hal himself. 
 
 Old John nodded. " It would be easy for a man 
 outside to get information if he could get help, 
 Miss Donna." 
 
 " Then it's conceivable that our enemy has an 
 accomplice here among the servants," said I. 
 " Let's start on that basis. Now, who is it ? " 
 
 Old John shook his head and both Donna and 
 Hal looked helpless. 
 
 " I don't know one on whom I'm willing to cast 
 a suspicion," said the girl anxiously. " They all 
 seem to be good, faithful, honest people." 
 
 " How about that French maid that helps Mrs. 
 Griggs in the linen room?" asked Aunt Charlotte 
 suddenly. 
 
 Donna's eyes came quickly to mine, pained with
 
 Hearts Insurgent 165 
 
 the thought of charging duplicity against any of 
 the household ; but I took my cue from the fact that 
 she was not ready with defense of the maid. 
 
 " How about her, John ? " I asked. " Not that 
 we intend to charge anybody with this, you under- 
 stand ; but we must search each possibility, and do it 
 quickly." 
 
 Old John was considering. " She's been here a 
 year and over, sir," he said. " She has done good 
 work. She's a bit flighty but I've never known 
 her to have any acquaintance in the village beyond 
 a girl or two. I don't know that she's even ever 
 heard of Judson Bain." 
 
 " I've never liked the girl," said Mrs. Philbric 
 positively. 
 
 " I've always been rather sorry for her," said 
 Donna. " She doesn't seem to have many friends 
 anywhere. The servants don't seem to have taken 
 to her and Mrs. Griggs, the housekeeper, is rather 
 hard upon her, I think." 
 
 " Where does she work ? " I asked. 
 
 " In the linen-room and the laundry," answered 
 Aunt Charlotte. 
 
 " She handles all the linen practically all the 
 time," put in John. 
 
 " The laundry's in the basement? " 
 
 " Yes," said Donna. " The linen-room is on this 
 first floor, at the side. It's it's near the little side 
 door that leads to the garage path across the east 
 lawn."
 
 166 A Hand in the Game 
 
 She looked again at me anxiously and I could 
 see that her active mind was swifter in contempla- 
 tion of possibilities than the rest of us. 
 
 " Has she seemed kindly disposed toward the 
 family?" 
 
 ' Xot toward me," said Hal. " I wouldn't have 
 her about my study when she first came here and 
 was made second chambermaid. She fingered my 
 papers too much. That's why Mrs. Griggs put 
 her in the linen-room. I guess she suspected 
 I didn't like her and she has always kept shy of 
 me." 
 
 " Why," said Donna abruptly, " I noticed that, 
 too." 
 
 Old John shifted from foot to foot. 
 
 I think she's only afraid of you, Mr. Hal," he 
 volunteered. " She's timid." 
 
 " Is there anybody else who could be thought of 
 in this connection ? " I asked. 
 
 No one spoke. Hal abruptly lay back in his chair 
 with his eyes closed, looking very tired. Donna 
 turned to watch him apprehensively at the move- 
 ment. Mrs. Philbric put her glasses down from 
 where they had rested high on her forehead and 
 rose to her feet. She busied herself a moment about 
 the table, then motioned to John with her head and 
 started for the door. 
 
 " Wait," she said sententiously to me as she 
 passed. 
 
 Donna went to Hal's side. " Dear," she said,
 
 Hearts Insurgent 167 
 
 "don't you want to go and rest now? All this 
 detail shouldn't he allowed to tire you out." 
 
 The hoy opened his eyes and smiled as she 1>< ni 
 over him. Then he reached up and drew her face 
 down heside his own and she sank on her knees 
 at the arm of his chair. 
 
 Both turned toward me and the movement 
 brought their faces side by side in exactly the same 
 light. In the instant I fairly started at the amazing 
 likeness of them. The girl's hair was dressed low 
 and smooth about her fine head in the prevailing 
 mode. Hal's was soft and fine and he had ruffled 
 it slightly with his fingers. The effect was such 
 that, with the color now in Hal's face, the one 
 head seemed to have been cast in the identical 
 mold of the other. I laughed and told them 
 so. 
 
 "If you were both men or both girls it wouldn't 
 be hard for you to impersonate each other," I sug- 
 gested. 
 
 " We used to do it successfully years ago in pri- 
 vate theatricals," ans\\< v< d Donna, looking at King, 
 whose silence was growing noticeable. " Now make 
 Hal go and rest, Bob," she added. " He -Ixmldn't 
 be worn out with all this. We'll tell you the whole 
 of it when we find out anything. Hal." 
 
 The boy rose slowly from his chair. " I'll go, 
 sis," he answered for himself. " I'm the least useful 
 person about in this miserable pickle of mine." He 
 laughed up into my face as I rose beside him but I
 
 1 68 A Hand in the Game 
 
 saw the white line along the edge of his lips again 
 and my response was not hilarious. 
 
 " Do as your sister wants you to, old boy," I 
 told him. " We are going to put up a good fight for 
 you. The best way I know to fight is to carry the 
 war into the enemy's country. We won't stop with 
 defense alone. Men like this Bain and Scancey can 
 be reached and we'll reach 'em hard, too." 
 
 I had no conception what our fight would be, but 
 I have yet to see the just cause in which no blow 
 can be struck at the enemy. 
 
 An instant after King rose to his feet. " I think 
 I'll go up with the boy," he said. " Excuse me, will 
 you, Donna? " 
 
 The girl turned back toward me, her sweet face 
 alight with kindly thankfulness to me. " That helps 
 him more than anything else," she said, coming to 
 the table beside which I sat. 
 
 " I'll help him all I can," I answered her sin- 
 cerely enough. 
 
 Her slender hands rested on the mahogany. They 
 were within the reach of my own and a sudden 
 rush of tenderness toward her suggested wild 
 thoughts. She was the most beautiful thing I have 
 ever seen and her sweetly gentle mood of gratitude 
 toward me for loyalty to her brother roused danger- 
 ous response in me. I am human. I could have 
 seized her in my arms then and cried out love to 
 her. I looked up into her face steadily as I could 
 and spoke of Hal.
 
 Hearts Insurgent 169 
 
 " He's in a trap," I said, " but a man trapped 
 is not a man caught necessarily." And I smiled 
 at a recollection of my own. 
 
 " Tell me one way to fight them. It will help me 
 to hope," she said, and the tears welled slowly up 
 in her eyes. 
 
 " We will fight any way to win," I answered. 
 " When you face an unscrupulous enemy you can 
 strike as hard as you like. We are going to find 
 that girl or those letters and we'll send Judson Bain 
 to the pen." 
 
 "And if we can't?" 
 
 " If there's an ' if ' in it that I don't see now and 
 the deal goes against us, I'll run away with Hal 
 myself and take him into hiding in the mountains 
 till the cards are in our hands again." 
 
 "Won't they arrest Hal?" 
 
 " They'll summon him to court probably. But 
 they'll take bond for his appearance or arrange for 
 a test of his sanity, and " 
 
 I stopped. She had suddenly covered her face 
 with her hands. " Oh," she whispered, " I know 
 what they mean to do! They mean to break him 
 down by the very test itself. He can't stand it and 
 they know it. They'll drive him oh, they'll drive 
 him actually insane." 
 
 I rose and stood beside her. " They won't," I 
 said. " That may be their game, but I won't let it 
 come to that if I have to go to Judson Bain with 
 something besides a writ of injunction!"
 
 170 A Hand in the Game 
 
 She withdrew her hands and looked up at me, 
 a long, earnest, searching look. It was the sort of 
 gaze that would have taken the heart out of bluff or 
 bluster, but I had no notion of either. I knew that 
 I would not let Hal Philbric's enemies touch him 
 so irretrievably if my strength and my life could 
 be his buckler, and I would have dared much for 
 the smile that grew in that dear girl's eyes as she 
 measured my earnestness and believed. I sicken at 
 heroics and I despise bravado, but who would not 
 promise and fulfil who had an ounce of fighting 
 blood for such cause? 
 
 She put out her hand and touched mine. ' You 
 are a good friend, Dan Randall. I know what you 
 would do," she answered. 
 
 Her courage came back then. She smiled more 
 lightly and moved to her chair while I sat once more 
 with my heart pounding a wild drumming in my 
 ears. Her touch had been like fire to me again and 
 I had not dared to turn my hand to grasp her gentle 
 fingers. When Mrs. Philbric returned presently 
 alone we were sitting wordless, each buried in indi- 
 vidual thought. Hers I do not know and mine I 
 shall not repeat.
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 A LONG-ARMED ENEMY 
 
 " T T is very curious," said Aunt Charlotte as she 
 * came back to us. " Donna, Aileen has gone 
 out for the day. Aileen is the maid we spoke of, 
 Mr. Randall. Mrs. Griggs and I have been to her 
 room. We opened a drawer or two in her dresser 
 at random and we found this." 
 
 She held out a slip of paper to me and I took 
 it curiously. It was a small square sheet about as 
 large as a common square envelope and considerably 
 soiled. On it in red ink was traced what seemed 
 to be a design of some sort but quite blind to me. 
 I studied it an instant, then handed it to Donna, 
 who had risen to look. 
 
 " More red ink," I said. 
 
 "What is it?" 
 
 But Donna took the reply from her aunt's lips. 
 " Why ! " she exclaimed. " It's a plan of the paths 
 in the grounds. I'd know it anywhere because I 
 used to pore over it when I was a little girl when 
 the architects' drawings used to be in father's office. 
 But I haven't seen it for years." 
 
 We looked at each other rather blankly. What 
 connection had this odd find with our quest? Had 
 
 171
 
 172 A Hand in the Game 
 
 it any whatever? Might it not be evidence of what 
 we feared? Might it not, on the other hand, be 
 the most innocent bit of memorandum? 
 
 " But why red ? " It was Donna who put the 
 question as if her mind had arrived at that point 
 in very unison with mine. 
 
 " Just so," said Aunt Charlotte. 
 
 " It matches the ' red letters.' " 
 
 " It does." 
 
 " But red ink is almost as common as black." 
 
 '' Yes. But the only red ink in the house is in 
 Mrs. Griggs' room, I believe." Mrs. Philbric com- 
 pressed her lips at conclusion of her sentences. 
 Clearly she was predisposed to believe that some- 
 thing about this girl, whom she did not like, would 
 be found to need explaining. 
 
 " Does Mrs. Griggs know where she is ? " I 
 asked. 
 
 " Yes that is, Aileen told the housekeeper she 
 was going to the village. She will come back to- 
 night. Each of the servants has a day off each 
 week." 
 
 It was just at this point that the arrival of Bar- 
 naby at the house interrupted us. He came in hearty 
 and cheerful with a tonic-like assurance of manner 
 that seemed good to me. He had come to tell us 
 a trifle of good news, too. This was that no move 
 would be made that day by our enemies. He had 
 seen the coroner and had suggested an autopsy as 
 a means of delay, and the official, who had known
 
 A Long- Armed Enemy 173 
 
 Hal from boyhood and who had no love for Judson 
 Bain or Wheeler Scancey, had directed that this 
 formality be carried out. The curious non-appear- 
 ance of Bain, too, who had been expected to push 
 the charge against Hal, made delay possible, for 
 Scancey would not make the accusation and the 
 verdict of the jury could still be held off on the 
 plea of lack of evidence. 
 
 Barnaby's greeting to me was frank and friendly. 
 He asked a few quick, sharp questions about Bain 
 and he only laughed when I disclosed enough of 
 my adventure to him alone to show why Bain 
 had not put in an appearance in Hazelhurst. He did 
 not seem disposed to entertain prejudice against me. 
 And he welcomed the news about the lost girl in 
 a way that made me hope he would get results 
 from that. He immediately put into words the 
 thing I had been feeling more and more strongly 
 that Bain must have a keen fear indeed of what 
 Luella Westfall might tell, or he would not be mak- 
 ing an effort to keep her hidden. He was un- 
 doubtedly busied with that task now, too, or I had 
 been unbelievably deceived. 
 
 My news had the effect of sending the lawyer 
 hastily back to town, however, and I was not dis- 
 pleased that King, who had spent the night at The 
 Hazels, decided to go in with him. The latter 
 promised to return later in the day. When they 
 had gone I spent an hour with Hal, who kept to 
 his room, and talked to him of the most cheering
 
 174 A Hand in the Game 
 
 things I could think of till he showed again that 
 he was weary. 
 
 It was when I left him to go downstairs again, 
 with just a hope of a possible talk with Donna, 
 that a new strange thing occurred. I went out into 
 the wide upper hall on which Hal's room faced. 
 It was but a step or two to my own room and I 
 thought to run in there for a moment to get some 
 camp photographs I had brought from a recent 
 expedition into the Northwest. I thought Donna 
 might find some pleasure in them. Besides, I was 
 debating a matter in my own mind concerning camp- 
 life in the mountains for Hal. We might be forced 
 to run away from this thing. It had occurred to 
 me that the pictures might interest Donna in that 
 scheme as a hope, too, to keep her from deep fore- 
 bodings. 
 
 As I approached the room, however, I heard a 
 sound inside. Stopping to listen I gained the im- 
 pression that one of the maids must be at work 
 there. Not wishing to disturb her I turned back 
 and started downstairs. I had barely descended a 
 half dozen step when there was a sharp little crash 
 that I instantly located in my room and I paused 
 again. Then in a flash it occurred to me that it 
 could do no harm to look. 
 
 I mounted slowly and softly. I was not con- 
 scious that I had previously made any great noise on 
 the heavy hall carpets, and an instinct to caution, 
 explainable enough, held me. I crept back to the
 
 A Long- Armed Enemy 175 
 
 head of the stairs and then around to the half-open 
 door of the chamber and looked in. In the first 
 instant I saw nothing extraordinary. In the next 
 the curtains before an open window blew in with a 
 wide trailing sweep in the current of a vigorous 
 breeze. I could see nothing that suggested the pres- 
 ence of a person, however, and I pushed the door 
 wide and stepped in. 
 
 Instantly I became aware of a faint odor that 
 I knew for stale cigarette smoke. I do not smoke 
 cigarettes and I abominate the stench of them, but 
 it is familiar enough. There had been no cigarettes 
 smoked in my room to my knowledge since my 
 arrival, and the odor was not the sort that would 
 carry far on such a boisterous breeze as this that 
 was blowing in now. 
 
 But while I sniffed at the offensive smell and 
 looked for a trace of a smoker I saw on the floor 
 by the window a small glass vase lying broken be- 
 side the wainscot. It had been on the dresser which 
 stood close by the open casement. First thought 
 would naturally be that the swinging curtain had 
 drifted against it and knocked it off. But as I 
 glanced at the place where it had stood I saw that 
 this was improbable. The very closeness of the 
 dresser to the window forced the blowing curtain 
 to slip aside and swing around the front of the 
 massive piece of furniture, and my own dressing- 
 case stood on the end of the dresser in such a way 
 that it would seem to protect the vase.
 
 176 A Hand in the Game 
 
 I crossed to the window and picked up the broken 
 glass. Then I looked about. I had almost a con- 
 viction that some one had been in the room. There 
 was one door besides the one into the hall that 
 might serve as an exit. I went to it quickly and 
 tried it. It was locked. I turned. There were only 
 two other doors in the room. One led to a com- 
 modious closet and the other to the bath. No one 
 who would try to run away from me would be 
 likely to seek hiding there. The impression that 
 the door I had tried was locked on the other side, 
 too, was strong upon me. I decided quickly to 
 investigate. 
 
 I stepped into the hall and to the door of the 
 next room. I knew it to be an unoccupied chamber, 
 for I had noticed it before. But as I entered I 
 came upon Mrs. Griggs, the housekeeper, standing 
 by the door which evidently was the one I had just 
 tried. 
 
 " Oh ! " she said quickly when she saw me, " it 
 was you, was it ? " 
 
 " I just tried the door," I answered. " Were you 
 the one who was in my room just now? " 
 
 "Just now?" She looked puzzled. "No, sir. 
 I haven't been in there yet. Hasn't the maid done 
 the work?" 
 
 " I didn't notice," said I. " But somebody was 
 in there a moment ago, I think. I got the impres- 
 sion that he or she came out through this door." 
 
 She looked at me incredulously. Then she turned
 
 A Long- Armed Enemy 177 
 
 and pointed. " No," she replied. " It's locked on 
 this side." A heavy brass bolt was the fastening. 
 
 " But he could have pushed the bolt home," I 
 suggested. 
 
 " But no one has come through this way," she 
 answered. " In the first place the door-lock itself 
 is fastened and there is no key here, as we never use 
 this door. Besides, I've been here in the room 
 myself for fifteen minutes, at least." 
 
 It was convincing enough. I turned without ex- 
 planation and ran back to my own room. It was 
 still as if no one had entered it at all. But the same 
 faint odor of cigarettes was in the air. I went to 
 the bath and to the closet and looked in per- 
 functorily. The bath-room was alight with the 
 sunshine that came through wide windows, and 
 empty. The closet, in which I turned on an electric 
 light, contained only my own clothing. 
 
 I went back and looked out the windows. It 
 was full twenty feet to the lawn below and there 
 was no ledge or other foothold for a possible 
 climber. I began to wonder if my own nerves were 
 getting overwrought. But Mrs. Griggs had fol- 
 lowed me solicitously to the door of the room and 
 I spoke to her. 
 
 " Smell cigarettes? " I asked. She nodded, sniff- 
 ing. I pointed to the broken vase which I had 
 laid on the dresser. " That lay under the window 
 just now," I told her. " I heard it fall from the 
 hall and came to look. There's where it stood," I
 
 178 A Hand in the Game 
 
 added, pointed out the exact position on the dresser- 
 top. " Could this blowing curtain have raked it 
 off?" 
 
 She studied the movement of the lacey folds as 
 they swept in before the breeze. " It doesn't seem 
 so, sir," she answered. 
 
 " Well," said I, <f we've got a full-sized puzzler 
 here sure, or I'm getting stupid. Which is it ? " 
 
 She looked at me solemnly with literal applica- 
 tion of my words. She was English. " You are 
 not stupid, Mr. Randall." 
 
 I laughed in spite of my rather angry mystifica- 
 tion over my problem. " Think not ? I've been 
 known to be, Mrs. Griggs."
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 WOUNDS OF A FRIEND 
 
 ~p\ONNA was not in the house when I went 
 -*-' downstairs to find her. She and her aunt 
 had gone out. So I set about an exploration of the 
 grounds. Surely our enemies' movements were 
 shrouded in darkness and they were taking mys- 
 terious means to compass their ends. Their game 
 was too diabolically dangerous a one to treat the 
 slightest evidence of their movements lightly, or I 
 would have laughed at the cheap trick of the anony- 
 mous notes. But, distressing as these messages 
 seemed to have been to Hal, they were infuriating 
 to me and my fingers tingled to lay hold upon both 
 principal and agent in the perpetration of this out- 
 rage. 
 
 I made a round of the grounds and later of the 
 house, under guidance of old John, whom I pressed 
 into service. I spent most of the remainder of the 
 morning at this, with my thoughts partly upon this 
 and partly on the occurrences of the past day or 
 two. I remembered Judson Bain and the alarm 
 raised at Cold Spring and I wondered how the 
 pepper-filled eyes were thriving. He would kill me 
 
 179
 
 180 A Hand in the Game 
 
 for that trick if he ever had the chance, I was 
 confident. 
 
 As Donna was still absent and Hal was reported 
 to be asleep I was served a somewhat lonely 
 luncheon. When that was over I went to look over 
 stables and garage, for there was nothing more I 
 could do now till my friends returned, or till even- 
 ing gave me opportunity for the execution of a 
 fresh plan. It was while I was at the garage that 
 I saw King's car brought round from the front 
 and knew he was back again, so I stayed away the 
 longer for that reason. I did not know that Donna 
 had also returned and that I might be in request, 
 but I loitered about, thinking that I would give 
 King a chance to find some entertainment or employ- 
 ment for himself before I should go in. Then I 
 could leave him without gratuitous discourtesy and 
 follow my own devices. 
 
 It came as a surprise to me, therefore, when, as 
 I was walking in one of the paths along the outer 
 boundary of the immediate house-grounds, I heard 
 the voices of Donna and of King together and 
 looked out through the trees to see them both 
 mounted and riding side by side in the road outside 
 the palings. Evidently they had ordered the horses 
 within the past few minutes and were off for a jaunt 
 together. 
 
 My altered feeling toward King naturally did not 
 improve as I saw the position he held with the girl. 
 I had no right to indulge a feeling of jealousy, of
 
 Wounds of a Friend 181 
 
 course, for my own position, so far as anything 
 nearer than friendship to Donna Philbric was con- 
 cerned, was simply nil. But when did jealousy base 
 itself upon reason? Perhaps that malady will seek 
 such foundation when love itself takes sober judg- 
 ment and grave selection as its guides. And jealous 
 I was of King because I could not look upon 
 Donna Philbric and choose not to love her. Four 
 days ago I had seen her first, but in my own heart 
 there was no wonder at the fact of my passion for 
 passion it had become. I loved the girl and knew it. 
 And I knew King loved her and that he stood first 
 so far above me, indeed, that my hope was 
 faint. 
 
 I stood in the shrubbery beside the high iron 
 palings and watched them ride away toward the 
 nearer hills. They rode close together and there 
 was no mistaking the man's attitude. Without the 
 earlier glimpse I had had of them in close intimacy 
 the very bend of his head to her as he reined his 
 mount in toward hers would have told me the story. 
 And he was a fine chap, too, was King. Despite his 
 cold lack of confidence in me I could not deny that. 
 I turned away as they rounded a bend of the road 
 and passed out of sight, and I made my way back 
 to the house with the feeling that my life had 
 suddenly lost its savor. 
 
 I went in and up the stairs to my room. Then 
 the thought of Hal took me to him. I went to get 
 away from myself then. I found the boy awake
 
 1 82 A Hand in the Game 
 
 and sitting silent and very quiet in his room in his 
 odd costume of coat and cap. 
 
 " Hello, old man," said I from his doorway. 
 "Had a good rest?" 
 
 He looked up with his smile sweet as a girl's. 
 " I've been going over it again and again, Ran- 
 dall," he said, " and I seem to remember every de- 
 tail." 
 
 "Of the fight, Philbric?" 
 
 " Yes. Do you want to listen ? " 
 
 " I do indeed." 
 
 " I'll tell you how clearly I can see the details. 
 I can see Punk Salver's tobacco-stained lips that 
 always sagged around his teeth with a droop as if 
 the muscles were too weak to hold them up. I can 
 see just how they formed the words when he said, 
 ' Them letters there, Hal, will send Old Jud Bain 
 and Scancey to the pen.' ' 
 
 " Yes," answered I, looking into his clear eyes 
 and wondering how we could fear at any time for 
 his mental stamina. 
 
 " I can see him as he held those letters before 
 me," went on the boy. " They trembled so I had to 
 put my own hands on them to steady them, and I 
 can remember just how he jerked away, afraid I was 
 going to get them from him. Randall, I can remem- 
 ber Punk's very thumbs his dirty, stubby thumbs 
 at the edges of the sheets as he held them." 
 
 " You have a strong visualizing power." 
 
 " Yes. But would I remember such things such
 
 Wounds of a Friend '183 
 
 details if the thing were a dream if I had only 
 imagined the letters? " 
 
 " Nonsense, man. Your eyes and memory and 
 judgment are as sound as any one's." 
 
 " Dan," he said, for the first time speaking my 
 given name alone, " I can remember so many things 
 like that. I remember just how ashy pale old John 
 was when he came into the library, except for the red 
 mark on his forehead where he had struck his head 
 when he fell down in the hall. Poor old boy, he was 
 hurt, too, I guess. And I remember how he went to 
 Salver's body lying on the rug and how he started 
 as if he had burned his fingers when I told him 
 sharply to let it alone till we could get the doctor. 
 I even remember how he turned around half dazed 
 while I told him what had happened and his hands 
 commenced doing little things around the table me- 
 chanically closing books, and straightening things 
 up according to his habit. I can remember how his 
 hand trembled, too, when he put the cover on my 
 tobacco jar on the table, so that he made a regular 
 tattoo. I had had the jar open testing the tobacco, 
 which I thought was drying out since the doctor 
 made me stop smoking." 
 
 ' You saw all the details with unusual clear- 
 ness," said I. " That oftens happens when people 
 are under very great excitement." 
 
 " I seemed to think of all the things I should think 
 of, too," said the boy. " I can't see now what I 
 could have done that I didn't do."
 
 184 A Hand in the Game 
 
 " I think you showed remarkably good judg- 
 ment," I assented. 
 
 " And yet," said Hal, " those letters are utterly 
 lost." He looked at me with a query rising in his 
 dark eyes again. " Randall, they were there in 
 Punk's hands under those dirty thumbs and then 
 when Doctor Graham searched him they were 
 gone." 
 
 " Oh," said I, " Graham searched him, did he?" 
 
 " Yes," answered Philbric. " The doctor was the 
 first and only person to touch him except myself. 
 And Salver hadn't left the room or had any chance 
 to remove the letters." 
 
 " I understand that much," I replied. " I can't 
 fathom the secret of their present whereabouts." 
 
 :t They are in that room yet," said Hal. 
 
 " If somebody isn't a traitor." 
 
 I looked to see the effect of my words. The boy 
 stared at me with slowly widening eyes. 
 
 " John ? " he whispered. 
 
 " Is it possible ? " I asked. 
 
 " No," he said and shook his head. " John is as 
 faithful as my shadow." 
 
 " Who else, then ? " I asked. " Somebody in this 
 house is tricking us with these ridiculous ' red let- 
 ters.' " 
 
 " Yes ; but, Randall, those letters come by means 
 of hands, and nobody entered that room from the 
 time Punk fell except John and Doctor Graham, till 
 the coroner came."
 
 Wounds of a Friend 185 
 
 " Could Graham have missed the letters ? " I 
 questioned slowly. 
 
 Philbric's eyes scanned my face with sudden 
 sharpness. " Dan ! " he said with the accent of 
 remonstrance. 
 
 "Nobody is infallible!" 
 
 " I know. But that wasn't what your tone im- 
 plied." 
 
 " If only Doctor Graham touched Salver," said I, 
 " we must examine Graham's entire reliability." 
 
 " Why, man, he has been our family physician for 
 years." 
 
 " All right. That puts him above suspicion as 
 a searcher for lost evidence, does it ? " 
 
 Philbric hesitated. " He's above suspicion of dis- 
 loyalty or carelessness," he said. " He's no more 
 infallible than I am. But, Randall, I stood beside 
 him while he worked over Salver. I stood by when 
 he and the coroner worked again. I helped make 
 the search of the rooms. The papers have not been 
 found." 
 
 " Salver didn't eat them," said I, with a grim 
 smile. 
 
 " No, he couldn't. There were some six or seven 
 of them. They would make a hard mouthful to 
 swallow." 
 
 " It is my belief, Hal, that they are not in that 
 room now," I stated. 
 
 The boy was still in his chair by the window. 
 He suddenly pushed aside the afghan that covered
 
 1 86 A Hand in the Game 
 
 his knees. " Dan," he said, " let's go and look to- 
 gether just you and I while nobody else is here." 
 
 He got to his feet. I rose also from the chair 
 I had taken and reached my arm to him with the 
 sense that he needed help to walk. 
 
 " No, no," he said with a slightly annoyed laugh. 
 " I'm sound in wind and limb if I am a bit shaken 
 in nerves." 
 
 He led the way with some haste and we went out 
 and down the stairs together. At the library the 
 boy turned to me. 
 
 " Now," he began, " you go and stand by the win- 
 dow over there. I've done it, actually and in im- 
 agination, a dozen times. Face me here and stand 
 and think. If you had a handful of letters to hide 
 and to hide quick, where would you put them ? " 
 
 I followed his directions with a recognition of 
 the value of the method. I stood by the window 
 where Punk Salver had stood. I tried to think what 
 could have been the course his mind had taken on 
 that fatal morning when he had held those now 
 lost letters in his hand, and had had one minute 
 perhaps, in which to conceal them safely. 
 
 I looked about. Books and cases, the rugs, cur- 
 tains, vases, bits of bric-a-brac. I felt that the books 
 would have suggested the best hiding-place to me if 
 I had thought of hiding the letters at all. It seemed 
 a strange thing for the little blackmailer to do, but 
 what more clever after all? He put the things out 
 of his possession and .made them safe when he ex-
 
 Wounds of a Friend 187 
 
 pected that servants and perhaps officers would soon 
 be searching him. He could readily hope to regain 
 possession of them by obtaining secret entrance to 
 the room again. He had no hope in any other 
 course, indeed. And then he had remembered the 
 gun in the table drawer of which he must have had 
 a previous knowledge and had tried to use it in 
 a sort of desperate turning to bay. 
 
 I went over his course so far as we knew it and 
 asked every question that came to me, foolish or 
 otherwise, as the chemist tries every drug at his 
 command in experiment to obtain a desired com- 
 bination. 
 
 " We've looked under rugs and in books," said 
 I. " We've poked inside the vases, we've looked in 
 the fireplace and chimney, and tried for loose tiles 
 about the hearth. We've looked in the tubes of the 
 fire-screen and between the bookcases. Did you 
 look in the base of the electric lamp on the table ? " 
 
 " Yes. It is empty." 
 
 " Did you look in the tobacco-jar which you said 
 you saw John close ? " 
 
 " Yes. It is two-thirds full of tobacco." 
 
 " Did you look under the cushions in the Morris 
 chair?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " In all the drawers of the writing desk? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Under the blotting-pad ? " 
 
 " Yes."
 
 1 88 A Hand in the Game 
 
 " Did you look at the under side of the up- 
 holstered chairs in the springs?" 
 
 " Of every one in which the springs are open, 
 yes." 
 
 " Under the coal in the scuttle? " 
 
 " No. I think not. But the scuttle has been sev- 
 eral times emptied since then." 
 
 "Of course. There's no place on the chandelier 
 where the letters could be hidden ? " 
 
 " You can see for yourself." 
 
 " He couldn't have gotten them inside that fili- 
 gree brass work sphere, could he? " 
 
 " They'd show if he did." 
 
 " Sure they would. How about the globes ? " 
 
 " I looked in every one, myself." 
 
 " How about those magazines ? Did you look in 
 them?" 
 
 " Every one." 
 
 " And the sliding leaves of the writing desk ? 
 There'd be room for letters on them." 
 
 " I've pulled them both out a dozen times." 
 
 " Did you look between the blotter and its pad ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Under those plant jars ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Was the waste-basket searched ? " 
 
 " It was." 
 
 " How about the newspapers and such things on 
 the table that morning?" 
 
 " We opened every last sheet of them." Hal
 
 Wounds of a Friend 189 
 
 came forward from the door and sat down in his 
 big chair. He was paler again and tremulous, but 
 he tried to smile. " We've looked everywhere," 
 he asserted. 
 
 " It sounds like it," I admitted, and the conviction 
 began again to creep into my mind that there was 
 treachery against the boy somewhere. There was 
 not a spot within the six sides of that room that 
 had not been scrutinized now. And Punk Salver 
 had had time that was measurable only in seconds 
 in which to find repository for his letters. I felt 
 that I knew every article in the place and was con- 
 vinced that the letters were not there. And with 
 that conviction what remained? Either old John 
 Kent or Doctor Graham was a traitor. What other 
 explanation was there unless we accepted Gra- 
 ham's own unhappy suggestion that went back to 
 Hal himself with question of his very senses? 
 
 " Hal," said I, sitting in a chair by the hearth, 
 " has it occurred to you that it must appear to the 
 outsider to lie between you and Graham ? " 
 
 I put the question suddenly and he made a nerv- 
 ous start. I was sorry the instant I had spoken, 
 for I saw that he construed me wrong. I had 
 meant no reflection upon his condition, God knows, 
 but he took it so. 
 
 "Dan!" he cried. 
 
 He leaned forward in his chair and put his hands 
 up to his head, then leaned back again and clenched 
 his fingers together.
 
 190 A Hand in the Game 
 
 " I thought," he said hoarsely, " that you be- 
 lieved in me. Dan good God, Dan, am I going 
 insane ? " 
 
 I sprang to my feet and a wild curse at my own 
 monstrous stupidity leaped to my lips. 
 
 " Hal, boy ! " I cried, throwing reserve to the 
 winds. " It is not you I suspect. It's Graham ! " 
 
 I crossed to his side and put my hands on his 
 shoulders and felt them trembling as if he shivered 
 with the cold. Poor, poor chap ! He was like a girl 
 in frame as well as in sensitiveness then. I felt 
 the impulse one feels with a child in trouble to 
 pick him up in my arms and hold him till the fright 
 should pass. I looked down into his eyes. 
 
 " Hal, there's some natural, reasonable, ordinary 
 every-day explanation of this. You are no more 
 crazy than I am or Graham or King, or your sister 
 and she's the sanest person I know." 
 
 The boy's eyes had terror written in them as 
 plainly as I care to see it and his look wrung my 
 heart. I would have given all I possessed to recall 
 the clumsy sentence I had let slip. Suddenly, out 
 of the sense of extremity to which the situation 
 brought me the idea of the radical measure I had 
 earlier half anticipated took shape, and I blurted 
 it out. 
 
 " Hal, we'll run away from this accursed strain. 
 We'll run away! We'll go to the woods to the 
 mountains and let somebody else work out this 
 mystery. I'll take you with me and take care of
 
 Wounds of a Friend 191 
 
 you and you'll get well while Barnaby and the rest 
 work this case out to its end. You are being wor- 
 ried to death. Let's go and quit it and forget it." 
 
 He shivered, but he sat up slowly and shook his 
 head. " No; if I'm not right mentally I want to 
 know it," he said painfully. " I'd better have the 
 test." 
 
 He sobbed helplessly, and then, suddenly, he col- 
 lapsed in his chair and was unconscious. 
 
 Horrified I leaped to the bell and rang wildly for 
 John. The old fellow came so quickly that I was 
 assured he had been on the watch to serve us. I 
 told him to get Graham. Then I began to try re- 
 storative methods and presently found the boy re- 
 turning to consciousness. 
 
 I laid him on the couch and sat beside him after 
 he took a bit of brandy that the old butler brought. 
 Neither of us spoke and I waited in sick misery for 
 the doctor's coming. I could not know how much 
 damage I had done the boy.
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 A MEETING IN THE DARK 
 
 A S luck would have it Graham was out and John 
 * * sent for another doctor, a younger man of 
 the neighborhood, who came promptly. His grave 
 look over Hal when I had told him the truth did not 
 comfort me. It hurt me worse, indeed, than sim- 
 ilar seriousness from Graham would have done. 
 We took Hal to his room. The doctor gave him 
 a medicine which he explained to me was a powerful 
 sleeping potion. Then he left additional doses for 
 use later and went away, promising to find and 
 send Graham; and I, quite wretched, watched the 
 lad go off into slumber and then crept back down 
 to the library to spend a wholly miserable after- 
 noon recalling my blunder and considering a gloomy 
 future indeed. 
 
 When Donna and King came back at last, I wel- 
 comed them eagerly. I told them just what had 
 occurred and I had a glare from King's eyes that 
 meant only one thing henceforth from him. Donna 
 paled with pitiful anxiety and ran to Hal's room, 
 where she stayed to watch by the side of the still 
 sleeping boy. 
 
 192
 
 A Meeting in the Dark 193 
 
 King and I read the papers and then made a pre- 
 tense of talking the case over, but I knew I should 
 quarrel with him if I stayed in his company, for his 
 manner gave offense despite my fault. He had no 
 charity for me. So I left him and went again to 
 the stables, where I asked for and got a mount. 
 And as the dusk set in I galloped off down the 
 road to bring my own brain back to cool clarity and 
 calmness. 
 
 I rode long. My horse was fresh and the roads 
 were amazingly good for the early spring. I cared 
 not to eat and so through the dinner hour I spurred 
 through the country lanes and cross-roads, through 
 wood-paths and hill trails, far into the hours of 
 darkness, till my mount was weary. Then I turned 
 back and came in again to make such amends as I 
 might to the boy whom I had meant only to help 
 and whom I had dealt such an unlucky wound. 
 
 I found that Graham had been at the house when 
 I got back. He had approved what the other doc- 
 tor had done and Hal still slept under the influence 
 of the drug, or in natural slumber following upon 
 its quieting effects. I was a little comforted by 
 this. 
 
 King, too, had gone, and Donna and Aunt Char- 
 lotte were kind, each offering more friendliness than 
 I had expected. Indeed, Donna seemed sorry for 
 me with all her concern for her brother ; and it was 
 in her willingness that we should all leave the sub- 
 ject for the time that she reminded me of the thing
 
 194 A Hand in the Game 
 
 of which we had talked in the morning and her idea 
 was wholesome for us all. 
 
 " Aileen promised to be back at ten this even- 
 ing," she said. " Do you want to question her? " 
 
 " Aileen ? " said I, not recalling the girl for a 
 moment. 
 
 " The maid in whose room this plan of the 
 grounds was found," she said, bringing to me the 
 paper which I had seen earlier. 
 
 The memory brought me back to a plan I had 
 formed in the early portion of the day. 
 
 I looked at my watch. I had been late returning 
 after my ride. It was nine-thirty now. 
 
 " Wouldn't it be well to put this thing back where 
 it was found," I suggested, " and then wait oppor- 
 tunity to question or watch the girl ? " 
 
 " Yes," assented Donna quickly. She went to 
 the bell-push by the wide library hearth and rang 
 for the housekeeper. Presently that quiet compe- 
 tent Englishwoman came to the door. Donna gave 
 her the paper slip at once. 
 
 " Mrs. Griggs, please put this where you and 
 Auntie found it this morning quickly, before the 
 girl comes in. Let us know what time she comes, 
 and, if you can, see whether she comes alone." 
 
 " I'd have to go to the gate and watch to know 
 that, Miss Donna. The maids don't bring their 
 friends inside the grounds." 
 
 " Oh," said Donna. She looked at me for a 
 fresh suggestion.
 
 A Meeting in the Dark 195 
 
 " Don't rouse her suspicions that we are watch- 
 ing her," I said. " Let's think of some other way." 
 I rose, reached my hand for the sheet the house- 
 keeper now held and looked at it narrowly again. 
 Donna came to my side and looked also. " Are 
 there any peculiar marks on it? " I asked. 
 
 She shook her head. ' There's a little cross there 
 by the small side gate back of the garage. But 
 that's the servants' gate." 
 
 I looked the plan over. It was easy to trace out 
 the paths from my own familiarity with them when 
 I knew what the thing was. There was not a mark 
 upon them that would serve to indicate the maker's 
 special interest in any one point except the servants' 
 gate. I gave the little slip back to the housekeeper. 
 
 "Is she usually prompt in getting home?" I 
 asked the woman. 
 
 " Very," responded Mrs. Griggs. 
 
 " All right," I said. " Just let us know whether 
 she is to-night. Is she the only girl out this even- 
 ing?" 
 
 " One other, sir." 
 
 " What does Aileen look like? " 
 
 " She's very tall and wears a gray suit, sir." 
 
 "And the other maid that's out?" 
 
 " Is small. She wears brown and I think she 
 only had a shawl over her head to-night." 
 
 " I see." The housekeeper retired. " Not much 
 of a clue," I commented, rather disposed to think 
 we were making much of little. " But it's a curious
 
 196 A Hand in the Game 
 
 coincidence that we should find just this sort of a 
 paper in the girl's possession just at this time. I 
 think, Miss Philbric, I'll just take a stroll till ten 
 o'clock or so and see who comes home, and how." 
 
 The ladies approved and I took hat and gloves and 
 stepped out by the front door and through the 
 veranda. The weather was consistently mild and 
 balmy and it was past the time to think of overcoats. 
 
 It was a moonless but very clear night. The air 
 was full of the sweet smell of damp earth and grow- 
 ing things. There was plenty of spice of interest 
 in any possible opportunity for gathering clues. Be- 
 sides, I wished to think alone and I was glad of 
 a bit of time by myself. 
 
 I walked slowly down along the new grass by 
 the side of the well remembered drive to the main 
 gate of the grounds which gave upon the public 
 road. In the soft darkness under the swaying 
 branches of the budding trees the place seemed 
 familiar enough, and I had little difficulty in keeping 
 to the edge of the drive. I had small notion that 
 my present quest would give results but it was the 
 one thing that offered to-night. The strange inci- 
 dent of the anonymous letters held me to the idea 
 of seeing the girl as a thing that should not be neg- 
 lected. It was not the least of our problems. 
 
 I found shadow enough at the side of the gray 
 road when I passed the gates, and by keeping on the 
 grass near the trees of the grounds I was well 
 hidden from any casual observance. The road was
 
 A Meeting in the Dark 197 
 
 very still, as country roads are apt to be, at such an 
 hour. In both directions it stretched away dimly 
 to lose itself among the trees. Toward the town 
 there were the lights of a house or two. In the 
 other direction all the countryside was lost in that 
 gloom that only still fields can have under a night 
 sky. The cross-road which passed the side of our 
 place was quite as gray and lonely. It was not as 
 wide as the main road nor as smooth. The latter 
 was much traveled by automobiles of country- 
 dwellers, and was well kept. The cross-road was a 
 less important highway. 
 
 I turned at the corner of the high fence that sur- 
 rounded the immediate house grounds and made my 
 way slowly along toward the side gate. I was con- 
 fident that if any one came along the road it would 
 be impossible for me not to see and hear them. 
 There was almost complete silence upon the whole 
 of our little part of the world. Only those faint, 
 distant, vague sounds that come across wide open 
 areas in darkness reached my ears. It was too 
 early for frogs and crickets. The immediate neigh- 
 borhood was absolutely still. 
 
 Despite my errand I was wholly unprepared for 
 adventure. I anticipated none. To watch a girl 
 come down the public road possibly attended by a 
 swain, and to get a look at that swain, was the limit 
 of my expectation. But as I came near to the gate 
 of the servants and was looking for a particularly 
 deep shadow in which to take my stand, a sound
 
 198 A Hand in the Game 
 
 came from within the grounds themselves that in- 
 stantly warned me that some one else beside house- 
 maids was abroad. 
 
 There was a slight scuffling of feet on the path 
 within the fence, just at the gate's side, and probably 
 a dozen feet from where I stood. Then there was 
 a soft brushing of bushes nearer, and presently, 
 almost before I could set myself in poise for quiet, 
 some human being whose steps I could not hear on 
 the sod, but whose very breathing was audible, was 
 creeping toward me on the other side of the 
 fence. 
 
 Naturally I stood still. The fine excitement of 
 the thing rose with a rush like an intoxicant to heat 
 my brain. I felt that a real game was afoot after 
 all, for there was no mistaking the stealthiness of 
 the feet that crept along those palings. The leaves 
 slipped and rustled against the pushing figure almost 
 in arm's length before I saw it and then, when it 
 came into view, a black humped-up shapeless 
 shadow, I could not have told whether it was man 
 or woman or beast, that stopped suddenly as still 
 as I and stood with every motion and every sound 
 stilled. 
 
 But I was not left long in doubt, at least as to 
 what sort of being I faced, for a gruff grunt sud- 
 denly apprised me that a human, and a startled one, 
 had abruptly become aware of me. 
 
 " Humph ! " That was what it sounded like. 
 Then suddenly a whisper, " Dad."
 
 A Meeting in the Dark 199 
 
 I answered on the impulse of the instant. " Yes," 
 I whispered back, peering and striving to see be- 
 tween the iron palings. 
 
 The figure inside did not move for a moment. 
 Then slowly spoke out. " Well, who in " 
 
 He stopped. Suddenly he turned in the bushes 
 and made a rush back the way he had come. In- 
 stantly I ran to the gate and burst in. I plainly 
 heard for a moment the beat of feet on the path 
 ahead. Then again I heard the smashing of the 
 shrubbery as my quarry broke through, and this 
 time I caught the direction better. 
 
 Quickly divining that the runner was making for 
 the front gates I came to the conclusion that I could 
 far better turn back to the road and make my run 
 around in the open highway, than to attempt to 
 follow through the trees. I might arrive in front 
 of the grounds in time for a glimpse, at least, of 
 the fugitive. I followed the impulse and ran with 
 all my speed for the main road. I came to the 
 corner and was swinging round it when without 
 warning another running figure came like a rushing 
 madman out of the darkness and crashed into me. 
 Next instant I was sprawling in the damp grass 
 of the roadside trying desperately to regain com- 
 mand of my lost equilibrium and to get a grip on 
 the wind that was very nearly knocked out of me. 
 Before I could recover, however, I heard the sound 
 of feet in the road and when I managed to roll to 
 a sitting posture I saw a dark figure for a moment
 
 2OO A Hand in the Game 
 
 against the sky as it crossed the highway. Almost 
 instantly it sank down below the horizon line, how- 
 ever, and disappeared in the heavy, blurred shadow 
 of the old corn-field opposite. 
 
 I got to my feet slowly after my fall. I was 
 bruised. Whoever the man was who had run into 
 me he was a solid chunk of a fellow. I am some- 
 thing of an athlete myself. Old college friends 
 still called me " Bim," a nickname tacked upon me 
 in football days for the very sort of rough and 
 tumble that should stand me in good stead on an 
 occasion of such an encounter. But I had been 
 taken unawares and the fellow had been running 
 lower than I. He had evidently been less jarred 
 than I had. 
 
 I picked myself up somewhat sorely. I was still 
 on the outlook, however, for I believed that the man 
 who had run into me was not the one I had fol- 
 lowed. As I got the persistent luminaries out of 
 my vision I discovered promptly, therefore, that 
 some one was standing in the main road at about 
 the point where the gates opened upon it. Looking 
 closely I saw that it was a woman who had stopped 
 still there evidently alarmed and listening. I stepped 
 out into the road and called to her. 
 
 " Did you see those men run? " 
 
 She remained motionless, regarding me for an in- 
 stant. Then presently she came slowly along the 
 road toward me. As soon as she was close enough 
 for me to see her distinctly I became sure that she
 
 A Meeting in the Dark 201 
 
 was the maid, Aileen. She seemed to have just 
 come up the road from the village, too, and her 
 first question was such as might disarm suspicion. 
 She knew me, though I would not have known her 
 but for her height and the gray costume Mrs. Griggs 
 had described. 
 
 "Is anything wrong at the house, sir?" she 
 asked. 
 
 " No, nothing new," I answered. " I trust not, 
 at least. I've just had an adventure out here with 
 a couple of prowlers, however. Did you see them ? " 
 
 " No, sir, I saw nothing," she replied frankly. 
 She spoke excellent English and I should not have 
 known her nationality from any accent. 
 
 " Have you seen any men who do not belong to 
 the place hanging about lately ? " I questioned, tak- 
 ing advantage of my unexpected opportunity. 
 
 " Why, no, sir," she answered easily. 
 
 " Anybody from town been coming to the house 
 who doesn't usually come ? " 
 
 " Not as I know of, sir." 
 
 I nodded. I had lost my hat in the fall of a mo- 
 ment before. I turned to look for it to give my 
 questions as casual a sound as possible. I was con- 
 scious that they were not very clever questions and 
 would not lead to much. Still, the girl's open man- 
 ner was something to observe. 
 
 I lighted a match and returned to the dark strip 
 of shadow by the fence. She followed me and 
 aided in the search for the hat. The latter was
 
 2O2 A Hand in the Game 
 
 easily located, however, and I turned again pres- 
 ently and walked back to the road. 
 
 "All alone?" I asked the girl. 
 
 " Yes, sir," she replied. 
 
 " Do you often walk alone on the road when you 
 are out late? " 
 
 " Yes, sir," she answered. " I am not afraid." 
 
 " I suppose you are perfectly familiar with all 
 the roads from here to town." 
 
 She laughed lightly. " It's only a mile, sir." 
 
 " For my part," I said, " I need a plan of the 
 very grounds, I guess. I've been looking one over 
 to-night." 
 
 " A plan of the grounds ? " she repeated. 
 
 " Yes," said I, waiting to hear the nature of her 
 comment. 
 
 " Is there one at the house, sir? " she queried in- 
 nocently. 
 
 " You don't suppose grounds like these are laid 
 out without a plan, do you ? " I asked. 
 
 " Oh no," she said. " I suppose there is a land- 
 scape gardener's plan." 
 
 " And you never saw it ? " I asked. 
 
 " Why, no." 
 
 She was either entirely innocent of any notion 
 of what the paper was that had been discovered in 
 her possession or she was clever enough to make 
 this appearance of ignorance very plausible. I 
 brushed my presumably soiled clothing and laughed. 
 
 " Well," I said, " I'm sorry we startled you. I
 
 A Meeting in the Dark 203 
 
 think we'll have to have an officer or a good stout 
 groom or two on night duty about here. Good- 
 night." 
 
 She went on around the corner to the side gate. 
 I heard the gate click after her as I made my way 
 slowly toward the main drive. Presently I also 
 heard the side door of the house close. When I 
 entered the front door a moment later Mrs. Griggs 
 was already in the hall at the library door reporting 
 that the maid was in. 
 
 There was a general exclamation when I showed 
 myself in the light of the library lamps but I told 
 my brief story quickly. I saw Donna's eyes fill 
 with apprehension for my safety that was flattering 
 enough as I related the tale of my absurd discom- 
 fiture, and I saw the amazement of good Aunt Char- 
 lotte and of Mrs. Griggs. 
 
 We had learned but one thing, however, and that 
 was only in the way of confirmation of what King 
 had already discovered. We were watched. I 
 might better say we were spied upon. And the 
 natural conclusion was that some one of these spies 
 was either getting into the house or operating in 
 the house through some unfaithful servant. It 
 might be the girl Aileen or it might be some other. 
 
 Old John sent two stout fellows to patrol the 
 grounds. That was the only immediate action we 
 could take, it seemed, and we all decided to turn 
 in quietly. I said good-night to the ladies and went 
 to my room. As I was drawing my shades, how-
 
 204 A Hand in the Game 
 
 ever, I heard a startlingly sudden rap at my door 
 and opened to see Donna standing there, her face 
 white with wild alarm. 
 
 " Hal ! " she gasped when I started forward to 
 support her. " Hal is asleep still. But look 
 look what they've done now ! " 
 
 Her hands were shaking but she pressed into 
 mine another sheet with red lines and letters upon 
 it, and I knew without looking for details all that 
 it meant. 
 
 "Another red letter?" 
 
 " Yes pinned on his very breast as he sat in 
 his chair by the window."
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 THE ODOR OF EVIDENCE 
 
 ID he see it ? " I asked, as I took the thing 
 from her. 
 
 " No thank God. He hasn't waked." 
 
 "Where is Aileen?" 
 
 " In her room. Mrs. Griggs is having her 
 watched." 
 
 " Are you sure ? " 
 
 " She promised." 
 
 I opened the paper and looked at it. It was like 
 the rest of these missives in that it was unsigned, 
 but it bore no picture this time. The few words it 
 contained, however, could not have been better cal- 
 culated to strike fresh terror to our boy's heart on 
 this night had he chanced to see them. 
 
 " Your friends know it now. They don't say so 
 but they know. Look at them and see." 
 
 The thing needs no comment. It received little 
 from me. I went out into the hall. 
 
 " Come and let's find out whether Mrs. Griggs 
 has kept her promise," I said. 
 
 We went down the stairs together. Donna led 
 205
 
 206 A Hand in the Game 
 
 the way to the housekeper's room and called Mrs. 
 Griggs to her door. 
 
 " Did you watch Aileen ? " I asked the surprised 
 woman when she obeyed my suggestion that she 
 step out into the hall. I had heard voices in her 
 room. 
 
 " Yes," she answered quickly. " She is in my 
 room now." 
 
 " Has she been to her own room ? " 
 
 " Yes, but I watched her door till she came back 
 to me." 
 
 " And she hasn't been out of your sight ? " 
 
 " No, sir." 
 
 I held out the new " red letter " for her to 
 see. " It was pinned on Hal's breast as he lay in 
 his chair asleep some time this evening," I told 
 her. 
 
 " Then Aileen did not do it," she answered 
 quietly enough, though her eyes opened wide with 
 astonishment. 
 
 " Apparently not," said I. " But things are get- 
 ting too mysterious around us here to believe any- 
 thing we merely see or hear." 
 
 " What shall we do ? " questioned Donna help- 
 lessly. 
 
 " We'll stop this sort of thing effectually for to- 
 night," I said. " I'll go back myself and sit in Hal's 
 room. Mrs. Griggs, you need not watch the girl 
 longer. She's not guilty." 
 
 We went to the library, Donna and I. She turned
 
 The Odor of Evidence 207 
 
 on the lights and I stirred the fire again. It was not 
 yet midnight. 
 
 " Now, Miss Philbric," I said, " this thing has 
 got to stop. Hal's suffered enough. I want you 
 to let me take him away secretly now, before these 
 enemies of ours can make another move. We've 
 got to run away from them. Hal simply can't stand 
 it. What happened to-day merely proves that. And 
 the things they will do to him if he tries to face a 
 test of his sanity will be too much for him. Will 
 you agree ? " 
 
 " That you run away with him? " she breathed. 
 
 " Yes. I'll take care of him and hide him. We'll 
 camp in the mountains somewhere far enough 
 away so that they can't find us; and then you and 
 King and Barnaby can stave these fellows off till 
 Hal gets strong." 
 
 " But that will take months." 
 
 " Just so perhaps. I think weeks will do it 
 say six weeks." 
 
 " Could he get back to health in six weeks ? " 
 
 " He could get back nerve enough to go and have 
 a proper sort of examination made in a way that 
 wouldn't hurt him. We could have a doctor or two 
 join us without Hal's knowing who they are and 
 get their opinions on his sanity." 
 
 The tears were in her eyes and wet upon 
 her cheeks now. " Oh, you are so good," she 
 said. 
 
 " I'm not. I'm fighting mad. I'd like to be out
 
 208 A Hand in the Game 
 
 in the thick of some sort of fray where I could 
 face the instigators of this game again." 
 
 " You've suffered already." 
 
 " Yes, and I'm very willing to strike back. But 
 I can't do better for all of us than to take Hal 
 away." 
 
 "When?" 
 
 " To-morrow." 
 
 "Will he go?" 
 
 " He says not. You must persuade him." 
 
 " Perhaps I can't." 
 
 " You must." 
 
 She stood with the light of the fire thrown up 
 upon her face, one slim foot on the hearth, her 
 hands folded before her, the picture of unconscious- 
 ness of her beautiful self. Gentle, loving, anxious, 
 she was lovely and lovable beyond compare. I 
 longed to serve her and to relieve her unhappiness. 
 Even with the sense upon me that her love could not 
 be for me, I longed to serve for the sake of the 
 serving. 
 
 " We will sleep upon it then," she said. " I'll try, 
 if you and Bob think it right." 
 
 " Perhaps King won't like the idea." 
 
 " He has urged it, too." 
 
 The notion stung, but I answered promptly. 
 " Then you are convinced of the wisdom of it." 
 
 " I think you two men must know," she an- 
 swered. 
 
 We left the library again and went up the stairs
 
 The Odor of Evidence 209 
 
 together. At the top she turned toward her room. 
 
 " Please make yourself comfortable if you stay 
 in Hal's room," she said. 
 
 I saw that the idea comforted her. " I will," I 
 answered. " Good-night." 
 
 She held out her hand and I took it and pressed 
 it, dumbly. 
 
 " Good-night, Dan Randall," she said with just 
 a flicker of a smile. 
 
 I went directly to Hal's room. A night-light 
 burned there. I pulled a steamer rug and pillow 
 from the couch and threw them down behind the 
 closed door, then lay down with the certainty that 
 no human being could pass that way without waking 
 me. And I slept. 
 
 Hal was still asleep when I woke some time after 
 daylight. I went and stood by him and listened to 
 his light breathing. I was hopeful that the long 
 quiet rest might have done him good. It seemed 
 to me quite safe now to leave him and go to my 
 own room to shave and dress for the day, and I did 
 so accordingly. 
 
 The house was very still and I found it was only 
 six o'clock as I looked at my watch in the hall. I 
 went to my own room and pushed open the door, 
 which I found closed. The moment I entered, I 
 became instantly conscious of the smell of stale ciga- 
 rettes again. I looked about and could see nothing 
 wrong or unusual in my room. I thought about the 
 matter as I prepared for my bath.
 
 2io A Hand in the Game 
 
 This was quite as curious as the other strange 
 happenings. It looked very much as if some one 
 were making free of my room when I was out of 
 it, and the natural thing was to try to establish con- 
 nection between this fact and the outrages that 
 had been perpetrated upon Hal. Could my room 
 be the path by which some one entered the upper 
 portion of the house and so reached the boy's room? 
 If so, how did such person enter my room? 
 Through the locked door? I went and tried it. It 
 had apparently remained locked all the time. Why 
 should any one enter my room at all, unless com- 
 pelled to do so? And yet, what did the odor of 
 cigarettes indicate if not that some one had been 
 there ? 
 
 My windows were not open this morning. I 
 opened them and breathed the sweet air, and looked 
 upon the trees and lawns with eyes that saw appar- 
 ently for the first time in days. How the buds 
 had grown and burst and the tender leaves had 
 spread since the day of the snow! How the grass 
 had grown ! How spring had advanced ! And then 
 the faint little whiff of stale cigarette smoke came 
 to my nostrils as the counter draft sucked out of the 
 room past me. 
 
 I went to my bath. Then I shaved and dressed. 
 I had finished and was just about to go out into 
 the hall and to Hal's room again when a rap 
 sounded again at my door, and this time I opened 
 to Mrs. Griggs.
 
 The Odor of Evidence 211 
 
 " Didn't you stay in Mr. Hal's room last night, 
 sir? " she asked. 
 
 " Yes," said I. " I did." 
 
 She held out to me a slip of paper with red marks 
 on it, and I read it quickly. 
 
 " To-day is the Day." 
 
 " It was on the door of Mr. Hal's room just now, 
 sir," said the woman. 
 
 "Inside?" I asked. 
 
 " No, sir; outside." 
 
 I stared at the thing. Had it been there when 
 I came out of the room? I could not tell. It was 
 quite possible. 
 
 " Has any one else seen this ? " I asked. 
 
 " Not that I know of, sir." 
 
 " Keep quiet about it," I told her. 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 I ran downstairs and found old John in the hall. 
 
 ''' John," I said, " is there anything peculiar about 
 the construction of this house that you haven't told 
 me?" 
 
 "What do you mean, sir?" asked the man, 
 staring. 
 
 " Any secret passages ? " 
 
 " Not that I know of, sir." 
 
 " Did your men patrol the grounds? " 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 "No alarm?" 
 
 " Not a bit."
 
 212 A Hand in the Game 
 
 " Do you smoke cigarettes ? " 
 
 He stared at me. " I, sir ? " 
 
 " Yes, you." 
 
 " No, sir; I hope not, sir." 
 
 " Good. Does anybody around the place ? " 
 
 " Not that I know of, sir." 
 
 "Stable-boys?" 
 
 " Oh, I suppose so, sir." 
 
 " Do they ever come to the house ? " 
 
 " The kitchen sometimes, Mr. Randall." 
 
 " Is there any man or boy who comes here to 
 the house, regularly or irregularly or occasionally 
 or habitually who smokes cigarettes ? " 
 
 " I can't say, sir." 
 
 I showed him the note from Hal's door. As he 
 read it Donna came suddenly upon us from the 
 dining-room. I was not quick enough to recover 
 the thing from him before she saw it. 
 
 " Another ? " she asked, turning pale. 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 "Hal?" 
 
 "No, Hal hasn't seen it?" 
 
 "Where was it?" 
 
 " On the outside of his door. I slept on the 
 floor just inside of that door all night." 
 
 The girl read the message, which I did not try to 
 keep from her? 'To-day?" she repeated, looking 
 up at me. 
 
 " Yes. Does that convince you that my sugges- 
 tion of last night is a good one ? "
 
 The Odor of Evidence 213 
 
 She looked at me oddly, a trifle less frankly than 
 she had. 
 
 " I don't know," she said. " Will you wait till 
 Bob comes ? " 
 
 " Of course," said I. I was cut to the quick, but 
 I turned to John. 
 
 " John, there's mystery in this house and I want 
 to make another search. Will you help me? " 
 
 " Yes, sir. Of course, sir," answered the old 
 man. 
 
 " May I go over every inch of the place, Miss 
 Philbric?"Iasked. 
 
 " Indeed you may," she said more cordially. 
 
 " I'll go and talk to our patrols then first," I 
 said. " John, I'll want you in, say, half an hour." 
 
 I took a cap from the tree in the hall and went 
 out as Donna started up the stairs. I was not cere- 
 monious with her. I could not be at the moment, 
 for I was unreasonably, unreasoningly hurt. But 
 as I stepped out into the porch I looked back at her, 
 thinking to have a glimpse of her as she went up 
 to her brother. To my surprise she stood still at 
 the foot of the flight, leaning against the newel-post 
 and looking after me with an expression that was 
 hard to read but that did not seem unfriendly. 
 
 I stopped and turned. But suddenly her eyes 
 fell and the color mounted quickly in her face. As 
 quickly as I noted it I paused, and then in a mo- 
 ment she had turned and was running swiftly up 
 the stairs.
 
 214 A Hand in the Game 
 
 I went on and out, puzzled but stirred strangely. 
 What did such a look mean ? Did it mean that I had 
 been less than kind and had hurt her, or did it mean 
 that there was less of real confidence in me in her 
 heart than she wanted me to think? I could not 
 unriddle it. 
 
 I found the men for whom John had told me to 
 ask at the stables. Mabley and Foyle were their 
 names and they were two decent, competent, honest- 
 looking chaps. 
 
 " Any alarm, boys? " I asked them. 
 
 " No, sir," answered Foyle respectfully. 
 
 " No sign of one? " 
 
 " No, sir." 
 
 " Nobody come about ? " 
 
 " Not a soul, sir." 
 
 "Hear anything?" 
 
 " Nothing worth mentioning, sir." 
 
 "What did you hear?" 
 
 "Well, it's hardly worth tellin', sir. But we 
 heard the servants' gate click at about 5 130, sir. 
 That's all." 
 
 " That's all ! Didn't you investigate? " 
 
 " Yes, sir, we did. But nothing could we find." 
 
 " Could the wind have clicked the gate ? " 
 
 " There was no wind last night, sir." 
 
 " And you heard nothing else before or after ? " 
 
 " No, sir." 
 
 " Where were you when you heard the sound ? " 
 
 " I was on the path near the east door, sir, and
 
 The Odor of Evidence 215 
 
 Mabley was in the shrubbery near the front gate." 
 
 " Did you both hear the noise ? " 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 "What did you do?" 
 
 " We ran to the gate and then we looked all 
 around inside and outside the grounds." 
 
 "And found nothing?" 
 
 " Nothing at all, sir. It was one on us." 
 
 " It isn't much, is it ? " said I, smiling. 
 
 They laughed. " No, sir," said Foyle. " We'll 
 keep an eye out to-night, though, also." 
 
 I left them and went around to the gate they 
 mentioned. It was the spot where my adventure 
 of the evening before had commenced. As I reached 
 the place I heard an automobile coming into the 
 front gate and I paused to watch through the trees. 
 It was only seven o'clock now and early for visitors. 
 But I saw King jump from his car and go into the 
 house. 
 
 I went to the servants' gate then and began to 
 examine it. I tested its spring and latch. I opened 
 it and let it swing together with its click. I re- 
 membered that I myself had heard the sound from 
 the front road when I had waited for the maid 
 Aileen to enter the house. It would be easy for 
 any one to hear it in any part of the grounds. But 
 why should any person who was prowling about, 
 allow the gate to click when in every other way 
 he was apparently quite undetected? 
 
 But as I bent down to examine the hinges my
 
 2i 6 A Hand in the Game 
 
 eyes fell on something in the path that gave me 
 a curious sensation, commonplace as the thing was 
 or might be, under most circumstances. There on 
 the gravel lay a half -smoked cigarette, its paper 
 fresh and clean and neither damped nor stained by 
 lying out. It had evidently fallen there within a 
 very few hours at the most. 
 
 I picked it up. It was one of the round cheap 
 variety but it bore a portion of a name on the un- 
 burned length. The letters i n o remained. The 
 rest had been smoked away. It was a poor clue 
 certainly and might not be a clue at all, but I was 
 too fresh from the cigarette-smell in my room to let 
 this escape me.
 
 CHAPTER XIX 
 A SLEEPING POTION 
 
 T PUT the thing in my pocket and walked back 
 * to the stables. It occurred to me that it would 
 be a good plan to find out if possible what the 
 brand of cigarettes might be, and then to watch for 
 the smoker who used them. If he were our prowler 
 he must indeed be addicted to the habit to be forced 
 to smoke when on such errands as brought him here 
 or he was a strangely cool hand. 
 
 As I neared the stables it chanced that the man 
 Mabley was just leading out a horse with single 
 carriage. 
 
 "Anything I can do for you up to town, sir?" 
 he asked as he saw me. 
 
 I suddenly decided to find out about my cigarette 
 at once. 
 
 " Yes," said I, " take me with you." 
 
 " All right, sir," he answered. 
 
 In two minutes we were on the way. It was 
 but a mile to the village and I could go quickly and 
 not be missed from the house. Also it gave me an 
 opportunity to ask Mabley if he knew cigarette- 
 smokers among the men or boys about the place or 
 
 217
 
 2i 8 A Hand in the Game 
 
 who came about. He did not, however. He said 
 he had not noticed. 
 
 At the village main street I was set down and I 
 entered the first tobacco store I found. The clerk 
 there identified my cigarette stub quickly as from the 
 kind sold under the dulcet name of Peacherino, and 
 I purchased a box. I was walking back to The 
 Hazels within twenty minutes from the time I 
 started, and I had nearly reached the place when, 
 as I neared the cross-road, I saw an automobile 
 coming at a high pace down the main road toward 
 me from the direction in which I was heading. 
 
 I was walking in the path at the roadside and 
 watched to see the car pass me, when, as the ma- 
 chine neared the cross-road, it slowed down 
 abruptly, made a skidding turn and was off down 
 the cross-road. And in the turn I recognized the 
 people in the car, for the distance was not greater 
 than a hundred yards. The man driving was King 
 and the girl beside him was unquestionably Donna 
 Philbric. 
 
 It was a surprise. It was still early in the morn- 
 ing for pleasure riding, and more than that, there 
 had hardly been the spirit for such an outing evi- 
 dent in the face of the girl when I had seen her 
 last. The sudden fear that something was wrong 
 at the house came to start me running on the path 
 with a half -panicky notion that I had been 
 absent when some new matter of moment had 
 come to pass. And in five minutes I was in
 
 A Sleeping Potion 219 
 
 the porch and old John Kent was letting me in. 
 
 " What is it, John? " I asked, without preliminary. 
 " I saw King and Miss Philbric on the road." 
 
 " They've gone up to town, sir, to see the judge," 
 answered the old man. He was much excited. 
 
 "The judge!" 
 
 " Yes, sir. Mr. King, sir, brought the news that 
 they were going to to send the officers after Mr. 
 Hal to-day. And Miss Donna's gone to plead, 
 sir." 
 
 "To plead!" 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 " But they turned off the town road, John," ob- 
 jected I, mystified. 
 
 "Did they, sir?" 
 
 " Yes, at the first turn." 
 
 " I don't know, sir. I don't understand. They 
 were going to town." 
 
 " Well," said I, " never mind. King ought to 
 know. Has Hal gotten up ? " 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 "Does he know?" 
 
 ''' Yes, sir worse luck." 
 
 " Worse luck, eh ? Is he cut up ? " 
 
 " Very much so, sir." 
 
 " I'll go up and see him," said I. 
 
 My mind was filled with a multitude of swift 
 thoughts, but one rose predominant. If Hal were 
 threatened with arrest it might be a time for quick 
 action indeed. I ran up the steps as fast as I could
 
 22O A Hand in the Game 
 
 make the jumps. At the top I nearly ran over Aunt 
 Charlotte. 
 
 " Oh, Mr. Randall ! " she exclaimed. " I'm glad 
 you've come. I've had a dreadful time." 
 
 Aunt Charlotte was nervous. I did not heed her 
 much. I pushed for Hal's room. 
 
 " Sh-sh-sh ! " she whispered, catching my arm. 
 " I've just given him another sleeping potion to 
 quiet him. He woke up nervous and half distracted 
 and the news that the men were coming drove him 
 nearly wild." 
 
 I stopped and looked at her a bit alarmed. An- 
 other sleeping potion? Well, perhaps that wasn't 
 a bad idea. Surely it wouldn't hurt him as much 
 as suspense. I said so doubtfully. 
 
 " I had to trick him into taking it," she said. 
 " I knew he wouldn't if he understood what it was. 
 He was about wild." 
 
 I turned back from the boy's door. " And King 
 and Miss Philbric went to stop the officers ? " I 
 asked. 
 
 " Yes oh yes if they can," she answered. 
 
 " What chance had they ? " 
 
 " I can't see that they had any. But Donna was 
 determined." 
 
 I looked at the fluttered little woman. " Well," 
 I said. " I guess the best thing we can do is not 
 to disturb Hal. Let him sleep again." 
 
 I went down the stairs with her, but I was think- 
 ing not of what she had answered me nor of what
 
 A Sleeping Potion 221 
 
 else I might find to say. I was thinking what I 
 would do if word came that Donna and King had 
 made a failure of their enterprise. And I could 
 not believe that there could be anything else but 
 failure ahead for them. 
 
 I excused myself from Aunt Charlotte and went 
 out again. A scheme was revolving in my brain 
 to the considerable heating of it. I went to the 
 garage and found Hal's chauffeur there. The man 
 knew me by sight now, though I had not talked to 
 him, and I liked his appearance. He looked more 
 like a substantial country boy than the city man. 
 
 " Mr. Philbric thinks of letting me take him for 
 a spin in the car this morning," said I. " What 
 are your cars ? " 
 
 He told me. As a matter of fact I already knew, 
 for I had taken pains to discover what were the 
 two motors the Philbrics kept in their garage. I 
 was familiar with the handling of both, for I had 
 manipulated not a few machines. " Good," said I. 
 " How soon can you have the big one ready? " 
 
 " Twenty minutes, sir," he said. 
 
 " Well," I answered. " I may want it very 
 quickly when I want it." 
 
 I looked at him hard. He looked sound to me, 
 and his glance did not waver under mine. 
 
 " All right, sir," he answered. 
 
 ; ' You are familiar with the trouble at the house, 
 of course? " said I. 
 
 " Yes, sir."
 
 222 A Hand in the Game 
 
 " Then don't say anything about it but have that 
 car ready for use at a minute's notice and keep it 
 so, and you will do more for Hal, and, incidentally, 
 for me, than in any other way." 
 
 " I'll do it," he promised, and I believed him. 
 
 I went back to the house. I was more than half 
 of the opinion that we would have to face our crisis 
 that morning, and the will to fight hardened in me 
 to fight by running. I would carry Hal off 
 whether he would or no, if the alarm came, and I 
 set old John and young Foyle to watch the road for 
 signs that might precede word from King and 
 Donna. 
 
 I met no one in the halls. John was out on watch 
 and Aunt Charlotte had gone somewhere into the 
 realms of the kitchen. I stole up to Hal's room and 
 opened the door. Over the back of the big chair by 
 the wide open window I could see the top of the 
 red-and-white knit skating-cap he wore when he sat 
 in the open air. I went quietly to his side and looked 
 down at his face. His eyes were closed and the 
 pallor about his lips was more pronounced than 
 before. As I looked at him now, too, his amazing 
 likeness to his sister, which seemed to have grown 
 nearly absolute in these days when his suffering 
 had given him almost an ethereal look, impressed 
 me more than ever, and I looked at him with a 
 queer sense that it would be easy indeed to make 
 me believe that it was the sleeping face of the girl 
 herself I looked upon. I wondered at the delicate
 
 A Sleeping Potion 223 
 
 beauty of the lines of mouth and chin, at the straight 
 brows and long dark lashes that lay quite still. 
 
 It was a bit startling to see how quiet he was. I 
 felt for his wrist and tested his pulse. It was steady 
 and full and seemed approximately normal, but, 
 poor chap, I pitied him deeply as I felt the slightness 
 of his hand and thought of what all these events 
 must mean to him in suffering and of how brave 
 and patient he had been. 
 
 I went to my own room and threw off the coat 
 I had been wearing. Drawing on a heavier one 
 I slipped my cap into the pocket and went down- 
 stairs. I felt that I was doing all that I had a 
 right to do and I would not go further without 
 Donna's approval unless emergency pressed. I went 
 into the library and sat down to wait for a message 
 from King, expecting one fully. The fire was burn- 
 ing on the hearth as usual in careful preparation for 
 Hal's comfort when he should come down, and I 
 watched the tiny curling flames behind the grate 
 with an odd feeling that they were live entities that 
 had been present here through all this week of wild 
 happenings and that they alone held the secret 
 which, if they could tell, would suddenly solve our 
 mystery and remove the threat that was now immi- 
 nent. Why should such things happen ? How could 
 so strange and unsolvable a matter come upon lives 
 as peaceful and quiet and inoffensive as those of 
 this boy and girl? And why should an inscrutable 
 fortune, or providence, have brought my life to
 
 224 A Hand in the Game 
 
 touch theirs just at this point? Surely, though, 
 there was an answer to this last. It would be a pity 
 if my chance coming were not to help them. 
 
 I was sitting staring at the fire and dreaming over 
 all the events that had followed upon that slightest 
 of happenings, the delay of the train, which had 
 commenced it all for me, when I suddenly became 
 conscious of running feet on the veranda outside 
 and then in the hall, and, by the time I was up and 
 at the door, old John, his face distorted with anx- 
 iety, was facing me. 
 
 " They've come ! " he gasped. 
 
 "Who?" I asked, half reassured. " Is it King 
 and Miss Donna ? " 
 
 " My God, no ! " he cried. " It's the sheriff and 
 two deputies. They're driving in now. I saw them 
 from the corner of the fence." 
 
 He was trembling. I reached out and took hold 
 of his arms. 
 
 " John," I said, " I'm going to run away with Hal 
 if they are after him. Understand? I'm going to 
 his room now and shall take him down the back 
 way to the garage. Send me word there what they 
 say." 
 
 I turned and sprang up the stairs. I felt no hesi- 
 tation now. I was ready to fight the officers them- 
 selves, if need be, to take the boy away from the 
 thing he would have to face if they served their war- 
 rant. At Hal's door I stopped to listen and heard 
 voices outside in the drive. Some parley was going
 
 A Sleeping Potion 225 
 
 on. I enteredthe room softly and went to the boy's 
 side. He was still sleeping quietly. 
 
 " Hal," I whispered, shaking his shoulder gently. 
 
 He did not stir. 
 
 " Hal ! " I was a bit more vigorous. 
 
 He lay perfectly still, his regular breathing un- 
 disturbed. I hesitated. If I should waken him 
 roughly it was possible that he might not have full 
 control of his nerves. Perhaps perhaps this was 
 luck this sleep. I looked down at his face, the 
 gentleness of which now made my heart go out to 
 him anew. Dear old chap ! He had taken to me 
 and trusted me to stand by him. I would, and 
 
 Suddenly I heard the slam of a door downstairs. 
 I stooped on the instant, slipped one hand behind 
 his shoulders and the other under his knees, and 
 lifted him, bundled as he was in great coat and 
 robe. Then I turned, kicked open the door and 
 strode down the hall to the back stairway. 
 
 The weight of my burden was slight to me. I 
 could have carried twice the avoirdupois easily. So 
 it was no trick to make my descent to the small hall 
 from which opened a door to the garage path. I 
 moved with some care but I was not slow, and I 
 had reached the door itself when suddenly, through 
 a doorway on my left, some one came swiftly out. 
 I turned and faced with astonishment the French 
 maid, Aileen. 
 
 I have no doubt I stared at her with full evi- 
 dence written on my face that I considered this a
 
 226 A Hand in the Game 
 
 mischance. She certainly stared at me. But I re- 
 covered quickly. 
 
 " Don't make a noise," I said. " Open the door 
 and let me out." 
 
 She moved instantly to obey. In another second 
 I was in the path between the bushes and on my 
 way to the garage, and I am free to say I ran. What 
 this maid might do, how far her loyalty extended 
 or what was her allegiance, were open questions. 
 She might give an alarm as quickly as she under- 
 stood what was going on. She might be faithful. 
 Somehow I hoped for the latter. 
 
 At the small door of the garage I found the chauf- 
 feur. I did not know his name but I knew his kind, 
 when he stepped back, held open the door and spoke 
 swiftly. 
 
 "It's ready, sir," he said. "This one!" He 
 indicated the big blue car nearer to us. " Shall I 
 start the engine or open the back gate first ? " 
 
 " Man, you're a trump ! " said I, with gratitude 
 real indeed. " Open the gate first. It is on the 
 lane, is it not ? " 
 
 " Yes, sir. And the lane leads to the side road," 
 he answered. 
 
 He did not pause for more but ran out and away, 
 while I lifted the quiet little sleeper in my arms and 
 deposited him in the deep cushions of the tonneau. 
 Then I stood still and listened an instant. No 
 sounds came in to me. I pulled blankets, wool and 
 rubber from the shelves behind the machine and
 
 A Sleeping Potion 227 
 
 covered the boy as he lay prone in the big rear seat. 
 He would be quite hidden from view of people on 
 the road as he lay there, and I liked that. Yes, it 
 was luck, this sleep ! Then I went to the big doors 
 before the machine and found them unbarred and 
 ready to push open. 
 
 I had turned back and was standing by the mo- 
 tor's crank only waiting the return of the chauffeur 
 to crank up, when suddenly the silence was broken. 
 A long, wild, piercing scream a woman's scream 
 rang out across the lawns, evidently from the house, 
 and cry on cry followed it. 
 
 " Help ! Oh help ! Quick, quick ! Here he is ! 
 Here ! He's getting away ! "
 
 CHAPTER XX 
 WITH CHANCE AS PILOT 
 
 T COULD think of but one thing. It was the maid 
 I had left at the little door. Why she should 
 have waited till now to give alarm I did not know, 
 but alarm she was giving without a doubt. 
 
 I turned instantly and pushed the big garage door 
 back. Then with one swift lucky turn I cranked the 
 big machine. Next moment I was at the wheel and 
 was feeling the car start beautifully under my 
 touch. And out I went into the drive. I did not 
 even glance toward the house. I looked only for 
 the path and the gate at the rear, and the heavy 
 tires of my machine sent the gravel flying against 
 the front of the garage as I gave the motor all the 
 head I dared. And when I spied the lane gate 
 round the first turn my man was there holding it 
 open for me. 
 
 The machine was in excellent condition and ran 
 with absolute smoothness. As I turned into the nar- 
 row lane I heard shouts raised behind me, but they 
 were at some distance and I felt sure I had not yet 
 been seen. I ran the car down to the cross-road and 
 turned to the right, away from the house ; and pres- 
 
 228
 
 With Chance as Pilot 229 
 
 ently we were flying off between the fields which 
 had yet the morning dew upon them, and that were 
 sweet with fresh scents of morning. 
 
 I looked back upon an empty road when the free 
 running gave me an opportunity. Despite the alarm 
 my start seemed to have been good. I advanced my 
 spark, however, and let the car do its prettiest on 
 the straight smooth course for two unbroken miles. 
 Then I slowed, turned east into a better highway 
 and began to consider what to do. 
 
 We were fugitives from the law, Hal and I a 
 cruel, pitiless law it seemed to me, from which we 
 had no choice but to run away in search of safety 
 and justice. We were outlaws in a sense, and in 
 that sense every man would be our enemy. Search 
 there would be, widespread and immediate. No 
 means would be neglected to send the alarm far 
 and near. The chances of escape lay only in swift- 
 ness now at the start and in an early change of the 
 car for other conveyance, or a plunge into the moun- 
 tain wilderness itself. It was the latter I had in 
 mind. 
 
 I was not certain whether or not it was fortu- 
 nate that the day was less bright and sunny than 
 those immediately preceding it had been. There 
 was a look of threatening rain in the sky and the 
 smell of it in the air. A storm might be an advan- 
 tage if we could get a good start, for a heavy rain 
 would make it less easy to stir the people of the 
 countryside to look for us. Also, a heavy rain
 
 230 A Hand in the Game 
 
 would make good roads bad very quickly and seri- 
 ously handicap us. 
 
 I had almost no knowledge of the country, too, 
 with but the railroad rides through the foothills and 
 one night gallop to give me acquaintance. But I 
 knew the general direction of the mountains and I 
 could make for them. Once on the edge of the wild 
 country I hoped to find means to make pursuit dif- 
 ficult, for I was no novice in the woods. 
 
 I had met no one on the first two miles of road. 
 I began to meet farmers driving toward town on 
 the larger highway. I could not see that they re- 
 garded me with any special attention. The friendly 
 nod that most country-dwellers usually give to the 
 stranger even the stranger in the motor car was 
 a common greeting as I sped by or slowed my ma- 
 chine for a skittish horse. And so I put another 
 two or three miles behind us. I thought best, as 
 we neared a small cross-roads town I did not know, 
 to turn off to the left again and pass it. It was 
 too near Hazelhurst for comfort. So I rounded 
 the place and scudded on toward the growing blue 
 haze of the hills. 
 
 I met children on their way to school, with their 
 lunch baskets and books, and realized how very early 
 it still was. To me it seemed hours since I had taken 
 my ride to town with Mabley. It was not much 
 more than an hour. Some of the little people cried 
 out to me to give them a ride, but I had to shake 
 my head at them and run on. I suppose the big,
 
 With Chance as Pilot 231 
 
 apparently empty tonneau tempted the small boys. 
 
 As minutes stretched into quarter- and half -hours 
 I began to lose my tense excitement. I stopped once 
 and got out to look well to my charge, and I found 
 him sleeping on and on in perfect comfort and un- 
 disturbed quiet. And it seemed almost a joke, this 
 kidnapping of him, as I anticipated his surprise 
 when he should wake. He was certainly none the 
 worse for this ride, for the car could hardly be less 
 comfortable on these roads than his very bed at 
 home. I covered him carefully, for the air was 
 slightly cooler than it had been yesterday, and then 
 I mounted to my place again and sped on. 
 
 The hills crept nearer to us. That was how it 
 looked, at least, as I kept the nose of the big ma- 
 chine pointed ever toward what seemed their nearest 
 point and held as fast a pace as I dared, with my 
 sleeping boy to look out for. How long it might 
 be safe to run the car openly on the road I did not 
 know, but I took mile after mile, as it were, from 
 the hand of fortune, and added it to the distance 
 between us and our enemies. 
 
 But if we were succeeding in running away from 
 the men who had come to look for Hal at The 
 Hazels, we were surely running into the coming 
 storm, as became apparent after a time. The wind 
 freshened in my face and grew cooler and quite 
 damp. The clouds were blackening about the moun- 
 tain-tops, now visible away back in behind the nearer 
 hills, which had hidden them from my view in the
 
 232 A Hand in the Game 
 
 valley. Thunder rumbled off there in the crags and 
 above the dark woods, like a moody grumbling of 
 the hills themselves, at our very coming. I felt 
 some apprehension as to the effect of a severe storm 
 on Hal, as it became more and more evident that 
 the storm would be severe when it broke. I could 
 keep him from getting seriously wet, perhaps, 
 though the car was an open one and I had only the 
 rubber blankets to shield him. But I feared his 
 waking to a thunder crack and in a strange situation. 
 
 I stopped again, decided to waken him at once 
 and explain to him; but I found that the drug had 
 him still in its velvet grip and I could not rouse him 
 without greater roughness than I chose to use. I 
 felt a touch of anxiety about the effect of such a dose 
 as the aunt had given him, especially following the 
 one of the night before but his pulse was still 
 regular and good, and I felt some relief in the 
 lessening of my problem by the elimination of the 
 need for immediate explanation of the situation. 
 So I drove on and on, up the gradually rising ground 
 into the hill-roads and into the face of the gather- 
 ing storm. 
 
 The way was rather blind to me, but I had fol- 
 lowed each road that looked best and that led west, 
 ever westward, toward the high ground. But I 
 had passed no more towns. Once I saw a village at 
 a distance to the south but did not go near it. It 
 was now late enough for word of our flight to have 
 spread among the towns of our part of the state.
 
 With Chance as Pilot 233 
 
 Indeed, when I looked at my watch I was aston- 
 ished that nearly three hours had passed since we 
 left the house. As it happened, the car's speed- 
 ometer had not been freshly set, and so I had no 
 means of judging how far I had come. I had let 
 the motor fly on smooth and level roads and had 
 cut down only as much as seemed absolutely neces- 
 sary in those that were less favorable. I knew 
 I had covered considerable distance, and it seemed 
 that I might safely conclude that I had aver- 
 aged twenty-five miles an hour. The nearness 
 of the mountains confirmed this notion. Where I 
 was, so far as exact location was concerned, was a 
 matter of complete uncertainty. If I should even 
 enter a town I would not know what town it might 
 be till I could inquire. 
 
 But I had not thought I could miss a plain road. 
 How I happened to do it I do not know. I think 
 I chose wrong at a fork though wrong perhaps I 
 should not call it now. At any rate, I did drive 
 at last into what I supposed was a highway, but 
 which turned out to be a blind path that slowly and 
 surely dwindled into a weed-grown trackless lane, 
 and then came to an end at last on the top of a 
 low hill and in the edge of the woods. I crossed 
 a bridge over a considerable stream that had cut 
 a deep gully in the hillside, just before I found that 
 I was in a cul-de-sac, as it were, and this fact puz- 
 zled me. But I had the strongest aversion to turn- 
 ing back.
 
 234 A Hand in the Game 
 
 I got out of the car and made a quick survey of 
 the ground. The thing was worse than annoying; 
 it was almost alarming at the moment. With the 
 woods before me there was a stretch of at least 
 a mile behind to recover if I would turn out of 
 this path I had chosen, and to retrace any part of 
 our journey meant dangerous delay. It was, then, 
 with relief and thankfulness that I discovered a cart- 
 track among the trees, apparently leading away to 
 some road further north that would lead up between 
 the big hills. I had now approached, and I turned 
 the car into, the new and rougher road, with prompt- 
 ness and self -congratulation. 
 
 I had not run far among the trees, however, be- 
 fore a freshening of the wind in their tops and some 
 heavy spatters of rain warned me that the storm 
 was close. I knew that I must make such prepara- 
 tions as I could to weather it, and decided. I began 
 looking for a favorable place in which to stop the 
 car and now regretted that I had come in among 
 the trees at all. A heavy wind might make the 
 woods a more dangerous place than the open. As 
 I peered through the trees ahead and to the sides 
 in the gathering gloom, I was feeling anything but 
 joyous over the prospect, when suddenly I spied 
 the low roof of some sort of building barely above 
 the undergrowth, in the midst of a very thicket of 
 brush and young trees, and I hailed the sight with 
 delight. Anything like a shelter would be better 
 than this exposure, and I at once took the place for
 
 With Chance as Pilot 235 
 
 a disused sugar camp, as most of the trees about us 
 were maples. 
 
 I turned the car out of the path and ran in 
 among the trees as far as I could conveniently go. 
 Then stopping my engine, I jumped out and ran to 
 the clump of bushes. On the side toward me, it 
 was impervious to ready penetration and I began 
 circling. Presently I found an opening and pushed 
 quickly in. The light was growing dimmer mo- 
 mentarily and the rain was beginning to fall fast. 
 I could see little enough, but the bulk of the small 
 house, quite dark and deserted, loomed before me. 
 The path was not hard to follow and seemed to be 
 well worn. I hastened to look for a door and pres- 
 ently I came out in a tiny four-yard-square clear- 
 ing and saw that my guess at a deserted sugar- 
 camp was doubtless correct. A moment later I had 
 reached the door, which I could see now only as a 
 dark cavernous opening for it was open to the 
 night and the storm. 
 
 I did not stop to investigate. I dared not leave 
 Hal alone in the car longer. I turned and ran back 
 as fast as the fading daylight would let me, rounded 
 the thicket and stumbled to the car, with the rain 
 beginning to beat a sharp tattoo on my shoulders 
 and cap. Reaching the tonneau I opened the door, 
 stepped in, and lifted my living freight, blankets, 
 rubber covers and all, and climbed down again to 
 the ground. Laying him on the ground for an in- 
 stant I dragged out the tarpaulin and jerked it
 
 236 A Hand in the Game 
 
 hastily about the car. Then I raised Hal again 
 in my arms. 
 
 I found the boy, light as he was, with all the 
 trappings a cumbersome burden now, however, and 
 it was something of a struggle to get him back to 
 the house in the thicket. The thing was done, but 
 only after what began to be a fight with the driving 
 rain and the tugging wind. I was, indeed, half 
 blinded by flying stuff that the gale picked up from 
 the floor of the wood and sent hurtling around me 
 with the water. But I made it, and staggered finally 
 into a dark interior, which seemed to have at least 
 the merit of being tight and dry. 
 
 I laid the boy on the ground and pulled the 
 rubber cover away from over his head. Then I 
 stripped off my own drenched coat and cap and 
 turned to close the door. The wind, however, was 
 driving from the opposite direction, and, as there 
 seemed to be no other opening in the place, I con- 
 cluded to leave the door open. I felt for my 
 matches and found them safe and dry; but before 
 I could strike a light, a sudden bright and blinding 
 flash of lightning abruptly illumined the whole place, 
 and, to my utter amaze, I recognized it as one 
 recognizes the face of an enemy. 
 
 The whole of the interior of the small room in 
 which I was stood out for a half second with unreal 
 clearness. Then it was gone again in utter black- 
 ness. But the vision persisted before my eyes as if 
 the light had not diminished. I saw walls of logs.
 
 With Chance as Pilot 237 
 
 I saw a heavy door turned inward. On its face 
 was a bar of oak and a bolt of steel. I saw a heap 
 of refuse in the center of the floor that proved the 
 place once to have been a stable for horses. I saw 
 a little heap of straw in the corner to the right and 
 on it a tumbled blanket and a loose bundle of cloth- 
 ing. I saw a heavy board roof and the very chinks 
 at its corners showed bright in irregular streaks 
 that seemed like erratic branchings of the lightning 
 that illumined them. I was in the hut that had so 
 recently been a prison for me on Cold Spring Farm. 
 And I saw before me the heap of blankets that 
 wrapped my companion, with the rubber gleaming 
 wet, as glittering bright at the instant as black ice 
 in a firelight, with the white calm face of the sleep- 
 ing boy above them. 
 
 I could have cried out in sheer amazement, but 
 the instant rush of thought upon the possible com- 
 plications, the possible advantages, the astounding 
 accident if such guidance of chance can be so 
 named checked even the impulse to expression. 
 And there I stood, with the lightning now playing in 
 a swift flutter of flashes and the thunder coming 
 crashing in close and fast, and looked upon this 
 curiosity of contingencies with a mixture of feel- 
 ings I can only describe as fascinated bewilderment.
 
 CHAPTER XXI 
 MATCH-LIGHT 
 
 BUT a moan from Hal brought me back to ac- 
 tion. The light in the hut was sufficient for 
 me to see him moving under the blankets and I knew 
 that he would wake to sharp alarm if I did not 
 reassure him. I spoke aloud quickly. 
 
 " Hal, old man," I said, " you're all right. We've 
 run away into the woods, that's all; and we've 
 struck a thunderstorm. You've been asleep." 
 
 I struck a match as promptly as I could and held 
 it so that it would light my own face, while I looked 
 down at him. He lay still again now, but his eyes 
 were wide open and staring painfully, and I could 
 fairly feel the shock of the surprise he must be un- 
 dergoing. I dropped upon my knees beside him and 
 put my hand on his hand. He was quite dry but 
 my hands were wet, I discovered. 
 
 " It's Randall, Hal Dan," I said. " You needn't 
 be at all alarmed. Your aunt gave you a sleeping- 
 potion again and I carried you off while you slum- 
 bered. We are in the foothills west of Hazelhurst 
 and it's raining pitchforks and screw-drivers out- 
 side. We've found a log hut that that makes a 
 fair shelter till the worst of this passes." 
 
 238
 
 Match-Light 239 
 
 I struck a fresh light and still held it close to my 
 own face, but I had to talk loudly, for the lightning 
 was snapping and the thunder rattling about us as 
 if we were under fire at close range. The roar of 
 the rain, too, was tremendous, and I understood 
 quickly that it was a veritable cloudburst. Luck 
 was indeed with us in one respect. We were better 
 sheltered here than we could have been in any other 
 place we were likely to have found. But the boy's 
 eyes stared at me almost as if he did not know me. 
 
 I went on talking rapidly, patting his head as if 
 he were a child. " It's nothing but a heavy hill- 
 storm, old fellow. We're snug as can be and the 
 car's just outside, covered pretty well at least 
 with the tarpaulin. We won't drown and we can 
 get into drier country quickly when the rain stops." 
 
 I watched his eyes. They were fastened unwink- 
 ingly on me and his face was very white. As my 
 match-light died I thought I saw him shudder. I 
 tucked the blankets in around him and under him 
 by the glare of the lightning. I was distressed at 
 his silent rigidity. Presently I bent close over him. 
 
 " How do you feel now? " I asked him. " Are 
 you cold? " 
 
 He did not answer, and, as I could not see his 
 face sufficiently well in the fitful flashings of the 
 electric play, I lighted another match. He closed 
 his eyes suddenly as the flame rose, as if he had 
 been dazzled, but it seemed, also, to me, that his 
 tenseness relaxed. I knelt and watched him anx-
 
 240 A Hand in the Game 
 
 iously for a long minute while my little stick of pine 
 gave me the opportunity. As the light went out 
 again I bent close to listen to his breathing. I could 
 not hear it, but I felt warmth upon my cheek and 
 a sudden stir of tenderness as if toward a helpless 
 little brother took hold of me. 
 
 It was just possible, I thought, that the effect of 
 the drug had not passed and that sleep might again 
 overpower the boy. I hoped for that. I felt for 
 and found the pulse in his temple and thought it 
 high, but it did not seem seriously rapid. I got 
 upon my feet again, uncertain what to do. There 
 was no fireplace in the hut, so that to make a blaze 
 would involve putting up with considerable smoke. 
 Yet a fire would add cheer to our situation and I 
 could hardly consider it dangerous so long as this 
 rain lasted. No one was likely to be abroad in such 
 a storm. 
 
 I remembered that among the articles of clothing 
 I had left in the hut was a coat. The chill in the 
 air made this chance seem good fortune again. I 
 went to the straw cot and found the garment with- 
 put difficulty. It was quite dry and I slipped into 
 it. Then I made up my mind to kick together such 
 stuff as there was in the hut and start a small blaze, 
 for the chill was creeping in rather uncomfortably. 
 
 I spoke to Hal again to reassure him if he were 
 awake. But he gave no answer and I became con- 
 tentedly sure that he was asleep again. So I booted 
 a spot bare at the end of the hut sufficiently far
 
 Match-Light 241 
 
 from the wall and gathered enough chips with loose 
 bark from the inside of the undressed logs to make 
 a small fire. In a few minutes I had a tiny flame 
 started. Then I closed the door, chose an upper 
 corner where a chink in the clay already showed, 
 and dug out a chunk or two of the filling between 
 the logs to make a ventilator. I had the satisfac- 
 tion, too, of seeing the rising smoke mostly sweep 
 over to and out of my improvised chimney. Then 
 I turned again to Hal. 
 
 He had seemed very pale when he had lain star- 
 ing up at me at the time of his waking, but now, 
 as I looked at him, it seemed that his color had 
 come back. Indeed, in the firelight his cheeks ap- 
 peared to be flushed, and, full of anxiety as I was, 
 I feared this indication also. There was little else 
 that I could do, however, now that a fire was built. 
 I picked the light little body and its coverings up 
 again, however, and laid it on the straw cot with the 
 blanket underneath for better protection. I thought 
 the boy's forehead felt hot to the touch, but I could 
 not be sure, for my hands were cold. I hung over 
 the sleeping lad as if he were a baby, I confess. 
 
 Time went slowly then, while I stood about hop- 
 ing that the rain would pass. There seemed to be 
 no cessation in the storm, however. There was less 
 incessant lightning and thunder, but the heavens 
 were indeed loosed of their waters, for the down- 
 pour was the heaviest I have ever known. Our 
 shack was amazingly tight and its situation on the
 
 242 A Hand in the Game 
 
 crown of a knoll was the only thing that kept us 
 from being drowned out. As it was, the water ran 
 down the logs on the side toward the wind, for there 
 were cracks enough in the side-walls to admit it. 
 There were two places where considerable drip came 
 through the roof, too; one near the door and the 
 other in the corner at the same end, but opposite. At 
 the cot end, where I had made my fire and laid my 
 slumbering friend, we were reasonably dry, though 
 I felt the chill of the sucking drafts. 
 
 I stamped about some for warmth, for I was not 
 heavily clad. My earlier exertions, too, had started 
 a perspiration that had dampened my inner cloth- 
 ing, and the rain had wet me outside. In truth I 
 was rather wretchedly uncomfortable and I boomed 
 our small fire up as high as I could with the poor 
 fuel available. 
 
 Meantime, my mind went over the features of our 
 predicament. A whole countryside was doubtless 
 by now on the lookout for us; and here we were 
 hiding out in an actual haunt of our arch-enemy, al- 
 most in reach of his hand, with only the storm as 
 a reasonably sure present guarantee of temporary 
 safety. Such a situation was scarcely of the sort 
 to be chosen or anticipated as a result of accident, 
 but for that very reason it had its advantages. No 
 one would look for us here, and only the chance of 
 Bain or some of the men coming up here soon after 
 the rain, would jeopardize us. The fact that my 
 clothing had remained undisturbed on the straw just
 
 Match-Light 243 
 
 as I had left it was some evidence that no one had 
 been here since the violent scene in which I had 
 participated. 
 
 That thought caused me suddenly to remember 
 my little weapon that had stood me in such good 
 stead on that occasion, and I looked for it at once. 
 I found it still unbroken a simple little tube of 
 paper lying half lost down beside the logs near the 
 door. And I discovered the empty pepper-shaker, 
 too, among the straw? 
 
 My watch informed me that it was after noon 
 now. It seemed an age, indeed, since this day's 
 work had begun. But the rain was flooding the 
 world outside and there was nothing to do but wait. 
 I wished that an extra blanket were available, for 
 it was growing cold and raw and my poor little 
 fire was not of much avail against the wet and driv- 
 ing wind. It was mainly useful as a light giver, 
 though I could not say much for the cheer it fur- 
 nished as the material to feed it began to run short. 
 I pried off all the bark that clung to the old logs, 
 but much of it would not burn well on so small a 
 blaze and the chips about were not many. I burned 
 handfuls of straw for a time, but they made only 
 fitful flares and much smoke. I was of the opinion 
 that the straw was more useful as a part of the bed. 
 
 I looked at Hal frequently, but his eyes were al- 
 ways closed and his respiration soft. He made no 
 sound in his sleep. The storm did not seem to dis- 
 turb him a second time. He was perfectly still so
 
 244 A Hand in the Game 
 
 far as I noticed. If he moved at all it was while I 
 was not closely attending, and I wondered at the 
 lasting power of the sedative. I ceased to worry 
 about him as the flush appeared to have subsided in 
 his face, and I decided that the effect had been due 
 to the ruddy firelight. I touched his delicate tem- 
 ples with my fingers and thought of the strange 
 contrast between his fragility and my crude 
 strength. And then I remembered that it was less 
 than a week since the thread of my life had crossed 
 his, with which it was now curiously irretrievably 
 knotted. And in the train of this followed the 
 long review of all that had come to pass with the 
 puzzling mysteries upon it and the crisis in which 
 we were involved standing here like a mighty snarl 
 to which I could not see the unraveling. 
 
 But the cold grew as the storm boomed on, and 
 there came a time when I felt that it was needless 
 for me to stand about and freeze while two of us 
 might wrap up together in our covers to the advan- 
 tage of both. For two in a blanket are better than 
 one, when its thickness and not its size is meager. 
 I looked at Hal and concluded I should do him no 
 injustice if I took him in my arms, overcoats and 
 all, and burrowed for both of us into the outer 
 blankets. So it was quickly, if not dexterously, 
 done; and was none the less comforting, if awk- 
 ward. After two minutes' fumbling I had his head 
 lying still protected by its red and white skating- 
 cap snug on my shoulder, and I drew the covers in
 
 Match-Light 245 
 
 around us both hugely to the improvement of my 
 own situation and not a little, I believed, to Hal's. 
 And then I settled back against the logs to wait it 
 out, while the storm raged impotently at us and my 
 fire dwindled to unsubstantial coals and faded into 
 the general gloom. 
 
 The dull light, the grateful warmth, the steady 
 pounding of the rain of them nature made a pow- 
 erful soporific for me. I went to sleep. Quite un- 
 intentionally of course I went to sleep, and slept 
 long and soundly. And I woke to quiet and peace 
 and darkness and the drip of an ended storm, but 
 with the light pressure of the slender warm body 
 of my friend upon me and the sense of safety still 
 with us to quiet the first instinctive start. There 
 was the smell of old smoke in the air, with occa- 
 sional breaths of fresh currents about us. The cold 
 was considerable and I pulled the big blankets closer 
 in about us at once. Then I listened for a time to 
 the sounds that were audible. Somewhere, not far 
 away, some freshet from the hills was making a 
 splashing that intruded itself as the first noise that 
 was clearly distinguishable. Aside from that there 
 was little besides the nearby drip of trees and bushes. 
 My fire had evidently gone completely out a long 
 time before. 
 
 I put my hand up to the face of my companion. 
 It was cool. But my touch did not disturb the 
 sleeper apparently and I wondered again. How late 
 it might be I did not know, but it was all of ten
 
 246 A Hand in the Game 
 
 hours now since the sleeping-mixture had been 
 given. Its effects must wear off soon. If not, was 
 it safe to allow the sleep to continue? I felt that 
 perhaps it was reprehensible in me to have allowed 
 myself to fall asleep when harm might have come 
 of the long delay. But the soft breathing was 
 against my neck and I found the pulse still calm. 
 I could not bear to disturb such slumber, for what 
 had I to offer in exchange for the peace it held? 
 A cold dark night in a lonely place where danger 
 was only suspended possibly now a nearer threat 
 than I believed and a long wait for day or a blind 
 search in the wet woods for a way by which to 
 continue our wild flight. I waited. 
 
 But presently the sense that this silent sleep could 
 hardly longer be wholesome for my charge moved 
 me to rouse him. It would be better to stir the 
 unconscious brain now to a waking knowledge of 
 our whereabouts, for I felt certain as I remembered 
 their gaze that the eyes into which I had looked by 
 the light of the lightning and my burning match had 
 had no understanding in them. 
 
 I moved and sat up, holding the covers close 
 about us. 
 
 "Hal!" I whispered. 
 
 There was no reply. 
 
 "Hal!" I repeated aloud. 
 
 The small frame stirred and I felt the fingers of 
 the hand I held grip mine. 
 
 " Hal, are you awake ? This is Randall. We're
 
 Match-Light 247 
 
 safe together in the hills. Don't be frightened. 
 We are " 
 
 But I did not finish. I felt a quick stir and start 
 and the relaxed form in my arms grew abruptly 
 tense. Then, suddenly a gasping breath and a whis- 
 per while the fingers held mine tightly again. 
 
 "Where am I?" 
 
 " Safe, old man," I answered. 
 
 "Where?" 
 
 " In the foothills back of Cold Spring Farm." 
 
 " And you ? " The whisper had grown strained. 
 Suddenly it became softer. " And you are Dan 
 Randall?" 
 
 Something stirred in me strangely something 
 that was like a welling of unexplained emotion. 
 The whispers in the black darkness of the room took 
 on a sound that startled me like the waking from 
 dreams to real. I did not know what was the influ- 
 ence upon me, but my heart began to beat with a 
 wild leaping that sought my very breath. I bent for- 
 ward and released myself from the blanket. Then 
 I struggled up and got upon my feet, fumbling for 
 my matches. In an instant I found one and struck it 
 upon the rough bound edge of a rubber blanket, dry 
 now to the touch. Next moment I held up the 
 flaming thing and bent down to look into the face 
 beneath my own. 
 
 The dark eyes were wide and wondering, startled 
 but not terrified. The delicate lips were parted and 
 tremulous though not with fear. But the cap had
 
 248 A Hand in the Game 
 
 been pushed back, the fair forehead showed white 
 and smooth, and tendrils of soft, dark hair clustered 
 about it. And revelation came to me as I looked, 
 like the flooding of my match-light upon the dark- 
 ness, and my blood took fire as inflammable stuff 
 and burned to my very heart. For the countenance 
 I looked upon was not that of the boy the sick un- 
 fortunate fellow-fugitive I had dreamed I was 
 guarding and saving. It was, in all the glorious 
 charm of rising blush, in the wonderful sweetness 
 of girlish modesty surprised, in the loveliness of 
 its own pure exquisite beauty, the face of Donna 
 Philbric.
 
 CHAPTER XXII 
 THE REACH OF THE LAW 
 
 THE flickering match revealed us to each other. 
 She did not move ; she seemed not to breathe ; 
 while I what can I say that will convey a little of 
 the feelings that held me spellbound ? And the flame 
 in my fingers burned slowly up to its full flare; 
 then, as I turned it, waned gradually, sank and 
 went out. 
 
 "Donna!" I whispered, as the darkness again 
 enclosed us. 
 
 She did not answer. 
 
 " Donna," I said again. " I didn't dream of it." 
 
 Still she did not speak. I could not bear it. My 
 mind was a whirling tumult now. I dared not trust 
 myself to try again to say the reassuring thing. 
 Then I caught a handful of the straw, dropped it 
 where our fire had been and touched another flame 
 to it. The last of my gathered fuel lay untouched 
 and I piled it carefully about the blaze, while I felt 
 my heart beat in my very finger-ends. What had I 
 done? 
 
 I turned to look at her again, at last, and found 
 her gaze upon me with searching question in it. As 
 
 249
 
 250 A Hand in the Game 
 
 my eyes looked into hers, however, her head 
 drooped slowly till her hands came suddenly up to 
 cover her face. 
 
 " How could I have done it?" I asked, coming 
 and dropping upon one knee beside her. " Donna, 
 you took Hal's place ? " 
 
 She nodded. 
 
 " He went away, dressed in clothes of yours ? " 
 
 " Yes," she whispered. 
 
 "Where?" 
 
 " Bob took him to a sanitarium in the North." 
 
 "He's safe, then?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 "And you?" 
 
 " I was afraid Aunt Charlotte and the servants 
 would know. I didn't dare trust any one and you 
 were gone." 
 
 " I went only for a brief errand." 
 
 " I know." 
 
 " I meant to take Hal safely into the hills. When 
 the officers came " 
 
 I paused. The rush of memories in the light of 
 this thing was confusing. She took her hands from 
 her face but did not look up. 
 
 " You came back for Hal." 
 
 ' Yes. I found you asleep. Aunt Charlotte told 
 me she had given you Hal the sleeping-mixture. 
 You have slept ten hours." 
 
 She was silent again. 
 
 "How can you forgive me?" I asked, for the
 
 The Reach of the Law 251 
 
 thought of enormous offense only was insistent in 
 my mind. 
 
 " Forgive you ? " 
 
 " I meant to help Hal, you see." 
 
 " You've proved that." 
 
 " I did not mean to involve you so." 
 
 " Involve me? I involved myself. But I did not 
 know Aunt Charlotte's medicine was the sleeping 
 potion. Ten hours, you say ? " 
 
 " Yes. It seems remarkable." 
 
 " I have slept poorly little, indeed, for a night or 
 two." 
 
 "And now?" 
 
 " I am not harmed by it." She looked up at 
 me now. " Where are we ? " she asked. 
 
 " I reckon about seventy miles from home. We 
 are in a small hut which I which I saw when I was 
 here on Conrad's farm. It is just at the foot of the 
 big hills behind Cold Spring. There's a stream 
 between us and the farm proper and we're in a 
 thicket of woods. I brought you in the blue car. 
 It's outside." I stopped. I had told her some of 
 these things before. " Didn't you hear me tell you 
 when you first waked in the storm? " 
 
 " The storm? " She looked at me as if mystified. 
 
 " Yes. We have had a severe storm. It com- 
 menced about noon or earlier and has only now 
 stopped, I think. I've been asleep myself." 
 
 I could not look into her eyes then. The thought 
 of that sleep made the heat mount into my brain.
 
 252 A Hand in the Game 
 
 I got upon my feet again and stood by the fire be- 
 fore her. 
 
 " I dreamed," she said slowly. " I dreamed of 
 the storm. I saw lightning and rain, and then I 
 saw you. You burned matches and told me not to 
 be afraid." 
 
 " I supposed you were Hal," said I helplessly. 
 
 " I know," she said. " I meant to deceive every- 
 body." 
 
 She smiled faintly now, but the blush came again 
 to her face. She looked at the blankets and the 
 rubber coverings. The course of her thoughts now 
 seemed plain. A wild rush of words came to my 
 lips and in choking them back I became dumb. She 
 looked up once more. 
 
 " Dan Randall," she said, " you have laid your- 
 self liable to the law, have you not? " 
 
 " We are both fugitives or were." 
 
 st You are a good friend." 
 
 I smiled. What a meaningless phrase was that! 
 But I could not speak its better. I had no right, 
 here and now. 
 
 She put aside the blankets and stood up. She 
 was dressed in her brother's clothing, but a long 
 overcoat covered her from shoulders to heel. As she 
 stood erect, the light struck up upon her sweet face 
 and shone in her hair, and my brain was fairly faint 
 with the very sense of the nearness and intimacy 
 of our relation. She turned to me and smiled. 
 
 " Shall we go home now? " she asked.
 
 The Reach of the Law 253 
 
 The thought had not come to me. Half stupe- 
 fied by the fact of her presence here I had contem- 
 plated only that. I took the word from her almost 
 as a rebuke upon my utterly selfish and inconsid- 
 erate stupidity. 
 
 ;< Yes," I said, " we should, I suppose, as soon as 
 may be." 
 
 I looked at my watch now. It was six o'clock 
 and ten minutes. 
 
 " The car is outside. I covered it with the tar- 
 paulin." 
 
 I started toward the door. 
 
 " Did you tell me that before, also ? " she asked. 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " I remember. It wasn't a dream then. And 
 you carried me in your arms ? " 
 
 ' Yes," I answered softly. " I carried you." 
 
 I opened the door and looked out. The woods 
 were dark and wet. The sound of the rushing 
 freshet was plainer now. The water must be high. 
 A sudden recollection of the bridge we had crossed 
 before we reached the woods came to me with quick 
 apprehension as to its condition. I stepped out and 
 looked around. All was dark and still in the imme- 
 diate region. 
 
 I went out through the path. I could just dis- 
 tinguish the opening through the trees as a darker 
 space than the rest. The girl followed. I put my 
 hand back to her and she took it. By common con- 
 sent we were silent, though she could have no knowl-
 
 254 A Hand in the Game 
 
 edge that we might run risks by talking. We 
 rounded the thicket and made our way through the 
 trees in as nearly the direction of the car as I could 
 remember ; and we found it presently, standing big 
 and dark and still. 
 
 The tarpaulin was loaded with water where it 
 sank in great hollows between the seats, but it had 
 clung in place, and, as I dragged it off, splashing its 
 contents on the sodden leaves, I found the leathern 
 cushions dry. 
 
 " We played in luck here," I whispered to Donna, 
 coming close to her where she stood waiting. " The 
 car is dry." 
 
 " Yes," she answered briefly. 
 
 " Get in," I said. " I'll bring the things and then 
 I'll pilot the way out." 
 
 I went back to the cabin, groping my way. So 
 agitated was I now that my hands trembled and 
 I am not much given to that sign of weakness. I 
 felt months and years older than yesterday, for the 
 emotion of the hours seemed to have added an im- 
 measurable span to my life. I stopped in the door 
 of the hut and leaned against the upright post, with 
 my brain dizzied and my heart throbbing with heavy 
 labor. Why had this come? Why had this come 
 to me? Why should it be that I should have and 
 hold and feel the wild thrill of possession of the 
 sweetness that could not be mine? Oh God! She 
 was not mine! I knew; she belonged to another 
 man, and I I who loved her better than my life
 
 The Reach of the Law 255 
 
 I must guard her from the very knowledge of that 
 love. 
 
 I almost staggered under the trivial burden of the 
 blankets as I went back to the car. I knew I was 
 not quite myself now not quite possessed of full 
 command over my faculties. The great passion had 
 burned me till I felt almost as if I had received a 
 sickening hurt. But I kept my rebel tongue in 
 leash. 
 
 I found the girl in the car. She had taken the 
 seat at the wheel. 
 
 " I know the country," she said simply, as I came 
 up and tossed my load into the tonneau. I did not 
 answer, but went to the crank and started the en- 
 gine. It took the spark with a soft whir of easy 
 action. Then I went forward a little way, barely 
 able to make out my path among the trees. How 
 we were to get out I did not see. 
 
 I bethought me then, however, of a probable bun- 
 dle of oil-soaked waste in the tool box and I found 
 it for the looking. Presently I improvised a torch 
 by tying the stuff to a wet stick. Lighting it, I sent 
 a glare far and near among the trees, and by its 
 flame, Donna turned the big machine and guided it 
 back to the cart-track. There I lighted the lamps 
 and stamped out my flaming torch in the mud of 
 the ditch. And in five minutes we were off down 
 the slope toward the bridge. 
 
 I had taken the seat beside the girl. I anticipated 
 possible danger and trouble at the bridge, but I did
 
 256 A Hand in the Game 
 
 not speak of it, for she ran the car slowly at the 
 start. The instant the great lights of our machine 
 swept down upon the gully, however, I knew that 
 difficulty lay ahead. The whole great cut in the hill- 
 side, where had been a considerable but not danger- 
 ous stream that morning, was now full to the brim 
 with a foaming brown flood that was tumbling a 
 foot deep over the floor of the bridge, a part of 
 the rail of which had been torn away. 
 
 Donna stopped the car. 
 
 " That's bad," she said, " but not unexpected." 
 
 " Did you anticipate it, too ? " I asked. 
 
 " Oh yes," she said. " I've seen it worse. I 
 wouldn't dare to run the car out upon that bridge 
 now." 
 
 " No," said I. " Is there any other way out? " 
 
 " There's the river bank itself," she answered. 
 
 She nodded to the right. On the high bank there 
 was a level stretch along which it was possible a 
 car might run, but which was marked by no track. I 
 glanced it over but could not follow it far in the 
 gloom, though it was lighter here than in the woods. 
 As I looked, however, the girl suddenly caught my 
 arm. 
 
 " Some one is looking at us," she whispered. 
 
 "Where?" 
 
 " Over across. See, by the sumac bushes ! " 
 
 I looked closely. I could make out the figure of 
 a man. He was standing quite still, but when once 
 seen he was easily distinguished. The glare of our
 
 The Reach of the Law 257 
 
 lamps painted his face white against the under- 
 brush. 
 
 "Hello! "I called. 
 
 " Hello ! " he answered readily and came forward 
 to the bridge. He carried something in his hand 
 and I started as I saw what I instantly thought 
 might be a gun. 
 
 " How's the bridge ? " I asked. 
 
 " See for yourself," he replied. 
 
 "Unsafe?" 
 
 " I should think so, for a car like yours." 
 
 " Where can we cross ? " 
 
 " You can't cross." 
 
 " No bridge near? " 
 
 " There's a bridge a mile downstream," whis- 
 pered Donna. " I can drive that far by the river- 
 side." 
 
 " I guess you'll stay where you are," called the 
 man. 
 
 " Not if we can help it, we won't," I answered. 
 His voice had an unpleasant tone in it. 
 
 " Well, you can't cross here and I ain't going to 
 let you go anywhere else," he announced abruptly. 
 
 " You're not ! " I cried. " Why not, pray ? " 
 
 " Because that's young Philbric you've got there 
 in that red-and-white cap. And you're wanted, you 
 are." 
 
 I was not utterly surprised. I had felt the threat 
 in the attitude of the fellow. Moreover, the thing 
 acted like a tonic to me. The thought of a chance
 
 258 A Hand in the Game 
 
 to stand up and fight was like a joy to me in my 
 mood. I replied to him promptly. 
 
 " You're mistaken," I said. 
 
 " I am not," he said, " and what's more, if you 
 try any bluff with me you'll get deeper into trouble 
 than you are. I can shoot." 
 
 I felt Donna's hand against mine. " Shall we 
 chance it ? " she whispered. " I I can't afford to 
 be caught masquerading." 
 
 " Wait," I said.
 
 CHAPTER XXIII 
 OBSTACLE RACE FOR TWO 
 
 T CLIMBED down out of the car and went to the 
 * head of the bridge. " Who are you?" I asked. 
 
 " I'm a deputy sheriff that's who I am," he 
 growled back at me. 
 
 " Well, you're after the wrong people," I told 
 him. 
 
 " I know who I'm after," he said. 
 
 " Will you come across here and see who we 
 are? " I asked. 
 
 He hesitated. Then, " You want me to wade 
 through that water ? " 
 
 " Not if you can walk the rail," said I. 
 
 " Well, I won't walk no rail." 
 
 " I'll come over and carry you across if you'll 
 hold up that shooting-iron," I said. 
 
 He laughed. " Fine job you'd have," he re- 
 marked. 
 
 " I can easily do it," I answered, " and I'd rattier 
 have wet legs than to stay here all night." 
 
 He did not answer, and he seemed to waver in 
 some uncertainty. 
 
 " Now," said I, " you're mistaken about young 
 Philbric. You're not the only man that's asked 
 
 259
 
 260 A Hand in the Game 
 
 us about him, either. But you can see that I'm not 
 Philbric and the person in the car is a lady." 
 
 " Don't lie to me," he said. 
 
 " I'm not lying," said I. I turned to Donna. 
 " He thinks we are trying to bluff him, Miss Char- 
 lotte," I called, using the first name that came to 
 me. " He thinks we are runaway crooks or some- 
 thing. Won't you call out to him to prove that 
 you are not Harold Philbric? " 
 
 The girl laughed shortly. " I am not Harold 
 Philbric," she called. 
 
 The fellow was silent for a moment. Then he 
 spoke again. " Well," he said, " you may have him 
 in that car. That was how he was carried off." 
 
 " Was it? " I asked. " Well, he isn't in this car 
 and he wasn't carried away in it. This car belongs 
 to this lady." 
 
 " Well, I can't take nobody's word," he objected. 
 
 " Come across and see," I answered. " You can't 
 expect to keep people held up like this on no better 
 suspicion than a red cap." 
 
 " No," he admitted. Then, " Well, you come on 
 over here and I'll walk that rail with a hand from 
 you." 
 
 The proposal was so surprising that I nearly 
 laughed aloud. I instantly hoped that he meant 
 what he said, but I could hardly credit it. Still, if I 
 was to act, I must act immediately so as not to rouse 
 his very ready suspicion. 
 
 I stepped down the steep bank and put a foot
 
 Obstacle Race for Two 261 
 
 readily into the water. Feeling my way then, I 
 went slowly out upon the overflowed bridge with 
 a hand upon the solid rail and groping carefully for 
 footing. It was a dangerous thing to do, but in the 
 excitement of the time I did not care. I made 
 steady progress. The water pulled at my legs and 
 struck cold upon my flesh through my clothing, but 
 I hardly noticed it. 
 
 As I neared the farther side I held out my free 
 hand to him where he stood now plainly visible in 
 the automobile's lights. 
 
 " Come on," I cried. 
 
 He did not move. He simply shook his head. 
 " You'll have to help me all the way," he said. 
 " I'm not a tight-rope performer." 
 
 I began to suspect a trick, but my fighting blood 
 was up and I also began to look for openings. 
 
 " All right," I answered, and stepped up on the 
 road before him. 
 
 He raised his gun. " Now," he said, " you're 
 here you stay. Don't you move or I'll plug you full 
 of buckshot. I'd kill you just as willing as anybody 
 I ever see." Then suddenly raising his voice, he 
 uttered a wild halloo. 
 
 At the instant I recognized him. He was the man 
 to whom I had spoken on the night of my escapade 
 at Cold Spring Farm, when I had run from the yard, 
 after the blinding of Judson Bain, and had been 
 minded to seek information. He was the bushy- 
 haired chap who had stood in the porch and had
 
 262 A Hand in the Game 
 
 told me so readily that the girl Luella West fall 
 had been taken to Hart, the village at the foot of 
 " Old Drom." And he knew me, with certainty, for 
 as he ended his halloo, which was obviously a call 
 for help, he began to laugh in my face. 
 
 " You must think we are all fools up here at 
 Cold Spring," he said. " But if we are, you ain't 
 fast enough to put it over us every time. I reckon 
 the sight of you will be good for Judson Bain's 
 sore eyes." 
 
 It was sudden, but not wholly unlocked for. I 
 played the part of surprise, however. Then I 
 laughed. 
 
 " Well," I answered him, " you've got me, 
 haven't you?" 
 
 I kicked my water-laden shoes, and looked down 
 at them with a feigning of bravado. Then I stooped 
 and began spatting the water from the legs of my 
 trousers. The road was full of the light from the 
 car. The man stood ten feet from me, and he low- 
 ered his weapon even as I bent over. I believed 
 that the lights must be somewhat in his eyes. In 
 an infinitesimal fraction of a second, I made up my 
 mind to risk a fight. I managed a step or two to- 
 ward him, therefore, apparently intent on my water- 
 soaked shoes. Then suddenly I gathered myself 
 and plunged at him with all the power I could sum- 
 mon from old football days. 
 
 His gun exploded with a roar, but I was un- 
 touched. Next moment I caught him by the knees
 
 Obstacle Race for Two 263 
 
 and upset him like a baby, and the second barrel of 
 his piece went off in the air. I lifted him and 
 turned to the river. I had a mind to throw him 
 into the flood, but the instant realization that it 
 would mean almost sure death to him stopped me. 
 I strode to the bridge instead. He had tried to kill 
 me, but I would stop short of death for him now. 
 I dropped him, however, into the midst of the swirl- 
 ing water on the bridge floor and shook loose from 
 his clutching fingers. Then I caught his heels and 
 dragged him as I strode out and back to the farther 
 shore, his struggling, twisted body half submerged, 
 his head now above, now under, while he yelled, 
 then strangled, then coughed, and strangled again, 
 and finally choked to silence. 
 
 I lifted him then and ran with him across to the 
 opposite bank. There I dropped him on the wet sod, 
 face down. I listened an instant, heard him give 
 a bubbly gasp, sure sign of life, and then I fled 
 to the car. 
 
 " Now drive, lady," I cried. " Go where you 
 can best, before his friends come to his call." 
 
 I jumped into the tonneau. I was too wet now 
 to sit by her side. 
 
 " You're not hurt? " she asked. 
 
 " No," I answered. 
 
 " I'll take the river course then," she cried. 
 " We'll fool them." 
 
 Courage was vibrant in her tone, and, as the car 
 started, I began to believe that this game that had
 
 264 A Hand in the Game 
 
 been going against us had been played to a change 
 of luck. I reckoned too soon. At the very instant 
 of the start, I heard the sharp crack of a rifle or a 
 heavy revolver, and the vicious sting in my left 
 shoulder told me I was hit. 
 
 The blow was not hard enough to drop me. It 
 sent stab-like tinglings in all directions in my nerves, 
 and, for a moment, seemed to have paralyzed my 
 arm. But it was not serious. The threat contained 
 in that much accuracy, however, was grave, indeed. 
 I stood up and clung to the back of the front seat 
 so that my body might shield the girl, and we 
 lurched out upon the soft sod with a spongy sound 
 under our wheels but with sudden speed that was 
 comforting. 
 
 A second elapsed, then another. Then came a 
 second spiteful crack, and I winced involuntarily as 
 a ball went past my ear so closely that it seemed to 
 burn. Whoever was shooting was a marksman. 
 Was it the part of a fool I was playing to run and 
 draw such fire? I had no assurance that it would 
 stop if we did. The man on the bank had excuse 
 enough to shoot, after my handling of his partner 
 excuse that would stand inquiry as against my 
 word now. I felt quite certain that the next bullet 
 would hit me, but there was no better way to shield 
 Donna, and our one hope was in gaining the first 
 turn around the higher bank that would put us out 
 of range. And I was right. The next bullet did 
 hit it caught me in the side below the shoulder
 
 Obstacle Race for Two 265 
 
 blade and plowed along a rib, and it seemed as if 
 I could feel it scour the bone. But it did not give 
 me such immediate, exquisite pain as the first had 
 inflicted, and I hung on and continued to stand. 
 Next moment we turned at the brow of the bluff 
 and were out of range. 
 
 I sat down among the blankets in the big rear 
 seat. Dizziness swept over me for the moment. 
 Then my head cleared, and I felt sure I should not 
 lose my grip on myself. The girl was bending over 
 the wheel, giving the car more speed than I would 
 have dared to give it. But she kept the smooth 
 stretch on the bank as if by sure instinct, and we 
 fled away into the darkness with the purr of the 
 engine mingling with the roar of the water close 
 at hand. 
 
 But we had not gone far before she slowed the 
 pace and turned to speak to me. 
 
 " The lower bridge is at the town of Vernon," 
 she said. 
 
 " Can you drive so far? " I asked, not daring to 
 lean toward her for fear of increasing the bleeding 
 of my worse wound, which I could feel now in my 
 clothing. 
 
 " Yes. But they will be on the watch for us 
 there." 
 
 " Probably." 
 
 " We couldn't get across," she said. " And even 
 if no one opposes us, the bridge itself will be as dan- 
 gerous as the one above us."
 
 266 A Hand in the Game 
 
 " Then we'll have to turn elsewhere." 
 
 " I believe " she began, then hesitated. " I 
 
 believe," she repeated, " that I know how to beat 
 them." 
 
 She started the car again before I could reply 
 and ran on along the way she had chosen. We came 
 to rising ground presently, and she changed the 
 gear and climbed the small hill, up and away from 
 the stream. And then, suddenly, she turned the car 
 and it started with a jump, and in a second I heard 
 a snapping crash, and I was conscious of flying 
 splinters of wooden rails as we went squarely 
 through a field fence. But I had no time to con- 
 sider that, for the car took a sagging dip, and then 
 a sudden climb, and I saw before me on the left 
 the shine of the lights on the wet steel parallels of 
 a railroad track. 
 
 For an instant I had the fear that the car was 
 out of her control, but I heard her reassuring laugh, 
 and she brought the machine around with ease, till 
 our head-lamps cast their beam straight out along 
 the rails. 
 
 "I did it, didn't I?" she cried. 
 
 " You surely did something," I answered, and I 
 forgot the sting of my wounds as I watched what 
 followed. 
 
 " Now for something better," she said quietly, 
 and the car started again like a horse under touch 
 of the spur. And suddenly I found myself leaning 
 forward in the tonneau, grasping the cushions in
 
 Obstacle Race for Two 267 
 
 front of me, in sheer incredulity, as I saw before 
 us a long unguarded railway trestle, stretching away 
 into the dark, its ties black and dim, its rails gleam- 
 ing like silver under our lights. And I held my 
 very breath while that girl, the very embodiment of 
 all that was feminine and gentle, deliberately drove 
 her machine straight out along those ties where few 
 men of my acquaintance would have dared to drive 
 by daylight. 
 
 I do not believe ignorance of her risk played any 
 part in her taking it. I believe she knew and under- 
 stood, and I, as I saw the chance she faced, knew 
 also what safe return to her home without discovery 
 of her " masquerade " meant to her. But whatever 
 her thought of the risk, take it she did, and a mo- 
 ment later I was gazing over the side of the car 
 down into a chasm, fifty feet at least to the foam- 
 whitened torrent below, while the car was bumping 
 over the ties at a rate that jarred me nearly off the 
 seat and made me anticipate a plunge at any instant 
 to the river's bottom. 
 
 But Donna was wiser than I knew. The gauge 
 of the track was almost exactly that of the motor's 
 wheels and the girl kept our right wheels close inside 
 the right-hand rail. Timber guard-rails ran along 
 inside the train-rails, and she managed to slip both 
 forward and rear wheels on the right side of the 
 car into the opening between the steel track and its 
 wooden parallel, adding infinitely to her chances of 
 a safe crossing. And then she dared advance her
 
 268 A Hand in the Game 
 
 spark and straightened up to the work of holding 
 a steady wheel as if her nerves were of steel. 
 
 So we crossed. She did not look down at the 
 river below, or at the spinning, dizzying procession 
 of ties slipping away under us. She looked stead- 
 fastly ahead and held on, because safety and escape 
 depended upon it. My own spirit rose in boundless 
 admiration of her, and I felt little else then, as we 
 sped surely if roughly on. And presently we were 
 out upon the solid earth of an embankment again 
 and she was turning into a muddy road at a crossing 
 close to the high bank and settling back as if to 
 smooth running, with only an excited little laugh 
 again to tell the story of the strain. 
 
 I did not speak, but presently she turned. 
 
 " Were you scared ? " she asked, and laughed as 
 I had not heard her laugh before, a free, joyous 
 laugh that meant high hope and confidence now. 
 
 " Yes," said I. " But I should not be again." 
 
 " Oho ! " she answered. " You grow readily used 
 to danger." 
 
 " No," said I, " I've seen you do it now and 
 should not feel fear another time." 
 
 She laughed once more and pushed her lever 
 forward. The big motor hummed and we began 
 to fly through the splashing pools and spattering 
 mud. I leaned back and remembered my hurts, but 
 cared little for them then. And I sat with silent 
 lips while the pain of a deeper wound gripped my 
 heart.
 
 Obstacle Race for Two 269 
 
 It was a long ride, but we made it in less time 
 than it had taken us that morning under my driv- 
 ing. I remembered what King had said of the girl 
 on the morning of my first ride toward The Hazels. 
 " She drives like the wind when she wants to 
 hurry," had been his comment. And she drove like 
 the wind now through darkness that would have 
 made me cautious, but with seemingly perfect fa- 
 miliarity with every level stretch and curve. And 
 we came out suddenly from a dark lane upon a 
 familiar patch of road at last, and almost as quickly 
 as I recognized it, we turned in at the big gate of 
 the home-grounds and swept up to the house and 
 stopped. 
 
 Late as it was the house was alight, and servants 
 came running at the sound of our arrival. I climbed 
 out upon the gravel with some difficulty, for pain 
 was growing in my hurts now and the sick feeling 
 spread through me at renewal of activity. I reached 
 to help the girl to alight, and managed it. Then 
 we walked in through the long veranda, while John 
 and his aids came out to us. And in a moment more 
 we were in the wide hall with Aunt Charlotte, Doc- 
 tor Graham, and King himself, hurrying to greet us. 
 
 " Hal? " cried Donna, first of all questions. 
 
 " He is safe," answered King promptly, and came 
 forward. 
 
 Both he and Graham looked strangely at me, but 
 before we spoke a cry from Aunt Charlotte ar- 
 rested us all.
 
 270 A Hand in the Game 
 
 " Donna ! Child, what has happened ? You are 
 hurt!" 
 
 I turned with fear leaping up in me. Had she, 
 in her fine courage, hidden a wound too? She 
 turned to the light and suddenly I saw upon the 
 white collar and shirt front she wore, and on the 
 collar of the coat, the scarlet stains of blood. 
 
 " Dear girl ! " I cried, catching her arm, " did that 
 devil hit you ? Are you wounded ? " 
 
 She looked up wonderingly. Then she smiled. 
 " If I am," she said, " I do not know it. I have 
 not felt it." 
 
 Her aunt seized her and drew her toward the 
 library. The doctor followed quickly and servants 
 clustered after them. Only King and I stood still, 
 for he was facing me with ugly light in his eyes 
 that I could not choose but regard. 
 
 " So," he said, when we stood alone, " you have 
 come back." 
 
 I regarded him coldly. A brute anger stirred in 
 me at the man who would judge without the facts. 
 " We have come back," I answered simply. 
 
 He glared at me. " You're either one thing or 
 the other," he began again, with evident effort to 
 control a more dangerous impulse than to speak. 
 " Tell me which are you, a knave or a fool ? "
 
 CHAPTER XXIV 
 LOVE OUT OF LEASH 
 
 ' I V HE light in the hallway shone across his face. 
 
 * I remember how the muscles of the jaw stood 
 
 out. I looked him in the eyes and grew calm as I 
 
 saw the madness of his rage and realized his cause. 
 
 " King," said I quietly, " I am not the knave you 
 choose to think. Neither am I exactly the fool you 
 might wish to believe. Take time to learn truth 
 before you judge, and when you have, I'll talk to 
 you." 
 
 I passed him. At the library door I paused and 
 looked in. I heard Donna laugh and knew that she 
 was not hurt. Then I went on and slowly up the 
 stairs. My wounds were cold and stiff and paining 
 a good deal now, and I knew I could not face them 
 all again without showing that I was injured. I 
 found it necessary, indeed, to take hold of the stair- 
 rail as I climbed and to pause at the landing; but 
 I did not look back to see whether King noted my 
 condition. I crept on and up to my room, turned 
 on my lights, and sank, faint and giddy, into a 
 chair. And then suddenly everything went black, as 
 a cloud settled over my eyes, and I lost knowledge 
 of the world. 
 
 271
 
 272 A Hand in the Game 
 
 When I came back to consciousness, I was in my 
 bed, swathed tight in bandages, and Graham was at 
 my side. Bustling about the room was Mrs. Griggs, 
 the housekeeper. At the foot stood old John, 
 eagerly solicitous. 
 
 " Oh, you're coming to again, are you, young 
 man ? " were the doctor's first words. 
 
 " I've had a knock-out? " I asked faintly. 
 
 " Came near being worse than that," he said 
 gravely. " You are remarkably strong." 
 
 " Yes," said I, remembering. " How bad is it? " 
 
 " The shoulder wound is not serious. The bullet 
 in your side cut deep. I don't know yet how much 
 trouble it's going to make." 
 
 " Not much," I answered him. " It didn't hurt 
 enough." 
 
 He smiled grimly. " You fellows of the giant 
 make don't know when you are hurt," he replied. 
 
 But I knew. I have always been able to distin- 
 guish the shallow from the deep injury by the feel 
 of the wound. 
 
 " And Miss Philbric? " I asked. 
 
 " She is not hurt. It was your blood close to 
 your heart's blood, young fellow that was spilled 
 upon her." 
 
 His words went deeper than he knew. 
 
 " How could they catch you so low in the side, 
 over the back of the car?" he asked me, and his 
 look down upon me was queer. 
 
 " I was standing up," I said.
 
 Love Out of Leash 273 
 
 " While Donna ran the motor? " 
 
 " Yes," I answered. " She will tell you all about 
 it." 
 
 " She has," he said. " But she didn't know that, 
 I think." The expression of his face changed 
 slowly and he regarded me with a new look of the 
 eyes. " She didn't know you were hurt," he added 
 presently. 
 
 " Of course," I said. " Don't tell them more than 
 you have to. I can get up to-morrow? " 
 
 " You cannot. You will lie still till I know where 
 that bullet is that cut the hole in your side." 
 
 I stared at him. I would not lie still, of course. 
 I was not crippled. I laughed. " Do you think I'm 
 going to be cut out of the game like this? " I asked 
 resentfully. 
 
 He did not answer my question. He put another 
 instead. " When did you last eat ? " 
 
 I paused to think. I had not thought of food that 
 day certainly. I remembered gradually. " Yester- 
 day noon," I said, and grinned at him. 
 
 " I thought as much. Donna has not eaten since 
 breakfast. Did you two plan to starve yourselves ? " 
 
 I felt a pang of compunction. I had forgotten 
 for two. 
 
 " But," said the doctor, " the girl has slept most 
 of the time. You have not, and what's more you've 
 lost some quarts of blood, I should judge by your 
 clothing. I think even you may feel content to rest 
 awhile and recuperate now."
 
 274 A Hand in the Game 
 
 He turned to the housekeeper, and she came for- 
 ward, smiling. 
 
 " Do you feel better ? " she asked kindly, and 
 reached to straighten my pillow with a truly moth- 
 erly touch. 
 
 " Yes," said I. " I'm all right." 
 
 I did not see how I could well question the doctor 
 or the servants about the things I most wished to 
 know, so I lay rather silent, only acquiescing to the 
 proposals they made for my comfort. Truth to tell, 
 there was indeed a feeling of languor and willing- 
 ness to rest upon me. But a fever burned in my 
 heart. I longed with unspeakable longing to see 
 the dear girl whom I had dragged into peril and 
 to assure myself with my own eyes that she was 
 safe and none the worse for the wild adventure 
 we had come through together. But I could not ask 
 for her. 
 
 I accepted the proposal that I should eat, and I 
 nodded adieu to the doctor as he went off down- 
 stairs with final prohibition upon any activity on 
 my part. I received old John's kindly attentions 
 and then ate from the tray that Mrs. Griggs brought 
 to me. But my thoughts were not on any of these 
 things. They went over the day's happenings in 
 swift review with the ever keen consciousness of 
 the sweet companionship that had been mine. And 
 I knew that love had put its roots too deep into 
 my heart ever to be torn out. 
 
 But Mrs. Griggs would talk. " I thought she
 
 Love Out of Leash 275 
 
 was her brother, too, Mr. Randall," was the remark 
 that finally arrested my attention. 
 
 "You?" I said. 
 
 " Yes. I saw her after she had dressed in his 
 clothes and put on the cap. I had no notion that 
 she was not Hal. Neither had any one else except 
 Mr. King." 
 
 I did not comment on that. 
 
 " And when you carried her off we all thought 
 you were taking Hal. And the officers thought so, 
 too, and followed you." 
 
 A sudden recollection came to me. " The girl ! " 
 I exclaimed. "What about the girl, Aileen? She 
 gave the alarm." 
 
 " Alarm ? " repeated the housekeeper. 
 
 " Yes. I passed her in the hall, with Hal in I 
 passed her when I was on my way to the garage. 
 Before I ran the car out I heard her scream for the 
 officers to come." 
 
 The woman regarded me curiously. " Oh," she 
 said. Then, " No, no ! Did you think so ? Don't 
 you know what she did ? " 
 
 " I heard her call for help." 
 
 " No, indeed, you didn't," exclaimed Mrs. Griggs 
 with sudden indignation. " Listen. I saw that 
 from the windows of the linen-room. I saw you 
 go out and I saw Aileen come back into the room 
 with me and stand quite still waiting in silence for 
 what would happen as all of us did. And then 
 one of the officers came running past the window
 
 276 A Hand in the Game 
 
 and turned down the path to the garage. And that 
 girl do you want to know what she did? She 
 whirled back into the hall and to the outside door 
 and screamed as if she was killed. And she called 
 the officer back and said, ' Here he is ! Here he 
 is ! ' till the fellow came running up the steps. And 
 she led him up the stairs and halfway through the 
 hall before he suspected he was tricked. And then 
 it was too late. You'd got away." 
 
 I raised upon my elbow despite the doctor's in- 
 junctions. " By the lord Harry ! " I said. " She's 
 one brick ! She ought to have a reward ! " 
 
 " She doesn't want one, Mr. Randall," said the 
 housekeeper. " And what's more," she added 
 hastily, " I've found out about that plan of the 
 grounds. She didn't even know what it was. She 
 found it in that very back staircase through which 
 you passed." 
 
 " Oh," said I, and was silent, while a new course 
 of thought came swiftly into my brain. 
 
 " And that makes a new clue to the queer mys- 
 tery of the cigarettes." 
 
 " The cigarettes ? " I asked. " What do you know 
 about the cigarettes ? " 
 
 " Why, the cigarettes Mr. King found in the at- 
 tic," she answered, looking at me astonished. 
 
 " Oh," said I again. " King found cigarettes, too, 
 did he ? So did I. In the attic, did you say ? " 
 
 " Yes, on the floor four of them." 
 
 " What kind were they? " I asked, smiling.
 
 Love Out of Leash 277 
 
 " They're a kind that is called Peacherino," she 
 said. 
 
 " I see. I found one this morning in the path at 
 the side gate. Our ghost smokes. But the attic, 
 you say ? What does that mean ? " 
 
 " I don't know what it means," she answered. 
 " Nobody seems to. Mr. King spent all the even- 
 ing, after he got back here, hunting about." 
 
 " I see," said I. " Is there any way from the attic 
 into the front halls?" 
 
 " Why, no, sir, not direct." 
 
 " Isn't, eh ? Well, it's a mystery still, then, isn't 
 it?" 
 
 " Yes," she said. 
 
 As she spoke she rose. Some one was at the 
 door, and I looked up as a knock sounded on the 
 panel. It was Donna. 
 
 For an instant my cup of satisfaction was full, 
 but almost immediately it was dashed. King was 
 with her. They came forward together. The girl 
 almost ran to the side of my bed. 
 
 "Dan Randall!" she cried. "You were hurt! 
 You were shot out there on the road and you never 
 told me." 
 
 I laughed, and from my soul I thanked the man 
 who had winged me. Nor could I forbear to take 
 the hand she rested on the pillow. 
 
 " It is just lucky," said I, " that the fellow we 
 ducked wasn't as good with his gun as the friend 
 who came at his call."
 
 278 A Hand in the Game 
 
 But she did not smile. She shuddered. " I didn't 
 realize how near he was to killing you," she said. 
 
 " It wasn't near at all," I answered. " He had 
 no time for any aim, but he had to shoot. He 
 merely pulled his trigger in perfectly blind help- 
 lessness." 
 
 I looked up at her with the love for her blinding 
 me to all else as she stood close beside me and let 
 her hand remain in mine. She smiled kindly 
 down upon me. 
 
 " They didn't catch us," she said simply. 
 
 " No," said I, " they didn't catch us." 
 
 King stood at the foot of the bed. I felt his eyes 
 upon me then and turned to him. I was not averse 
 to letting him feel a pang of jealousy for a moment, 
 after his treatment of me. But the power I held 
 for an instant was what would make later recollec- 
 tion bitter, when his time came again for all time. 
 His dark eyes stared at me moodily and I saw the 
 skepticism in them. 
 
 " Just when were you shot ? " he asked me, with- 
 out even the grace of a mention of my name. 
 
 " Oh, this evening," I answered him carelessly. 
 
 His face turned red at the counter-thrust. He 
 moved to go away, then turned again with the light 
 in his eyes narrowing to a glitter. But Donna was 
 looking in startled fashion from one to the other 
 of us and he hesitated. 
 
 " What's this ? " she asked sharply. 
 
 The housekeeper had left us and no servants were
 
 Love Out of Leash 279 
 
 within hearing. King's anger broke out beyond his 
 control. 
 
 " Donna," he said, " if you know this man, please 
 introduce me." 
 
 She gazed at him amazed. 
 
 " Who is he? " asked the angry fellow, and in the 
 moment of his attack I pitied him. I saw that he 
 had been bearing the unendurable. But it was not 
 for me to answer him direct. 
 
 " Tell him who I am," I said to the girl, holding 
 fast to her soft ringers that could touch with such 
 gentleness, but that had dared to drive that motor- 
 car across the railway trestle. 
 
 She looked down at me again and, for a moment, 
 her face softened. Then slowly the blush mounted 
 from cheek to brow and spread over her whole face 
 as she answered. 
 
 " He is Dan Randall," she said; and that was all. 
 
 The thing stirred me to the soul. I laughed and 
 started up. " Bob King," I said, " I take you for 
 a man. If you are, speak out now and tell me 
 what you hold against me." 
 
 But his suspicion was too deep for fair words. 
 He sneered. " Why do you smoke cigarettes in the 
 attic? " he asked. 
 
 I could hardly credit my ears. But of all the 
 things that can make a fool of a man, count jeal- 
 ousy the first. I shouted with laughter. 
 
 " Peacherino cigarettes?" I demanded. A flash 
 of intelligence came to illuminate his position.
 
 280 A Hand in the Game 
 
 " Yes," he cried. " What sort of a cheap trickster 
 are you? What kind of a mountebank mas- 
 querader? " 
 
 " That's four," said I calmly. " King, you are 
 making a fool of yourself and trying to be my 
 enemy. Haven't we enemies enough without a fight 
 among ourselves ? I'll answer you though. I 
 haven't smoked a cigarette since I was sixteen. If 
 you found the box in my coat that I left on a chair 
 here this morning, you found what looked like a 
 clue " 
 
 " They were on your dresser," he interrupted. 
 
 " Well," said I, " then John put them there when 
 he took my coat for a pressing, or something of the 
 sort. But, man, those cigarettes were bought at the 
 village to-day to identify a stub I found in the path 
 outside like the stubs you found in the attic." 
 
 " Who told you that? " he asked. 
 
 ;< You might as well have told me. But as a mat- 
 ter of fact Mrs. Griggs gave me the first informa- 
 tion. Now tell me why you construe every incident 
 wilfully against me you and Doctor Graham? " 
 
 He had opened his mouth to speak in answer and 
 his face was white with anger, when Donna sud- 
 denly held up her hand. 
 
 "Wait, Bob," she said. "You two shall not 
 quarrel. I will not have it. I know you both too 
 well to believe you have the basis for it. You shall 
 stop now till we have all the facts. Then you can 
 explain, or I shall for you. But, Bob, look at Dan's
 
 Love Out of Leash 281 
 
 face. He is doing what Doctor Graham said he 
 distinctly must not. He shall rest now. We must 
 
 go." 
 
 I settled back upon the pillow. Indeed, I had 
 felt already the start of bleeding in my wounds. But 
 King turned away without a word and walked to the 
 door. Donna stood still, looking after him. I felt 
 her hand move to withdraw itself from mine, but I 
 could not let it go. King stepped outside and still 
 she stood beside me, silent, looking after the man 
 who had left us. At last she turned once more 
 quietly to me. 
 
 " Why did you stand in the car ? " she asked 
 slowly. 
 
 My heart stood still. Then I tried desperately 
 to answer lightly. 
 
 ' To see ahead," I said. But I could not even 
 smile to carry the jesting words. My whole soul 
 was crying out to be heard just to tell her why 
 I would lay my life at her dear feet. 
 
 ' You were shot because you stood," she said. 
 "Why did you stand?" 
 
 I could not speak. I would have made a laugh of 
 it if I could, but no words came. I felt her fingers 
 tighten on mine. 
 
 ' You did it to save me," she said softly. " You 
 saved my life." 
 
 I turned my rough unshaven cheek against her 
 hand. I could not longer hold the leash. " God 
 forgive me for telling you, Donna," I whispered.
 
 282 A Hand in the Game 
 
 " But you are safe now and I cannot help it. I love 
 you." 
 
 I closed my eyes, with the physical faintness 
 again upon me. My disturbed wounds were taking 
 toll of my strength again. I felt consciousness slip- 
 ping away and I pressed her fingers to my lips once, 
 as the darkness crowded in again between me and 
 the light.
 
 CHAPTER XXV 
 A GHOST THAT SMOKED 
 
 FT seemed but the lapse of an instant before I 
 * opened my eyes once more, this time to the face 
 of the doctor and heard him speaking. 
 
 " No," said I, as clearly as I could. " No, Fm 
 all right." 
 
 The girl was standing by the foot of the bed 
 now, where also were King and Mrs. Griggs, all 
 evidently called by alarm from her. And distress 
 was written on her face. 
 
 " I'm all right," I assured her, and smiled at her. 
 I would have given worlds to call back the last mo- 
 ment of my consciousness and have her there again 
 alone. But she was beyond my reach now, and the 
 doctor's orders, when he had looked a moment 
 longer at me, were sharp and peremptory. And all 
 I had by way of good-night was a nod and smile 
 that meant nothing to me nothing but simple good- 
 night. 
 
 They turned down my light and left me, and I 
 lay with my ear upon my pillow and heard my 
 heart-beat echo there as it used to do when I was 
 a little chap and went wakeful and supperless to 
 
 283
 
 284 A Hand in the Game 
 
 bed as punishment for some boyish insubordination. 
 Heaven knows I was insubordinate now. I had let 
 my passion out of control and it had no mind to 
 return; and I lay with fever burning me and a mad 
 desire upon me to be up and seeking out the girl 
 I loved, to be with her again to demand an answer 
 to the love I had given and could not recall. 
 
 My window was open and the soft night breeze 
 was blowing in again, sweet and damp and spring- 
 like once more after the rain. I felt it cool upon 
 my face and lay still to breathe it and to calm the 
 tumult that seemed to fill my being. I looked out 
 at the top of the swaying maples where the leaves 
 were thickening to cast a shadow now, and I re- 
 membered that one more day had passed just one 
 more day since my cards were dealt. Was the game 
 near its end? And was I loser or to win? 
 
 It seems to me that it was hours before I slept. 
 The house was still kept so purposely, of course. 
 I lay counting the moments over since I had first 
 seen beautiful Donna Philbric and remembering that 
 I had lived a life before a forgotten thing now. I 
 thought of the story as a dream at moments then 
 as the only reality I had ever known. I remembered 
 Hal again too, poor boy, and his trouble, as some- 
 thing far back in the past, behind this day and its 
 final hour. And I wondered how long now we 
 might be immune from the trouble that was still 
 to come, that was not ended yet. And then I slept, 
 and woke to the silence and darkness of early morn-
 
 A Ghost that Smoked 285 
 
 ing; and then to sounds that brought me again 
 sharply to immediate realities. 
 
 I do not know what it was I heard at first. Some 
 creaking of flooring, some snap of a latch or click 
 of lock, some scrape of a foot or incautious stumble. 
 My eyes opened wide in the gloom for my light 
 had been turned out while I slept and I saw in the 
 middle of my chamber, against the white enamel 
 of the door, a small figure, shrunken or misshapen, 
 shadowy, stealthy saw it moving quietly, care- 
 fully moving toward me in fashion that held me 
 bound in sudden tense alertness. 
 
 Who or what it might be was utterly beyond me 
 at first; but presently I became sure of the single 
 fact that the being was human and I began with 
 care equal to his to prepare for what I supposed was 
 imminent attack. My arms were under the covers. 
 I drew my hands slowly to the edge of the blankets 
 at my chin and flexed my elbows out. If it were 
 to be a trial of muscular strength I had little fear 
 for mine, though I could not yet reason out a cause 
 for such attack. I felt the first sense of rest one 
 often feels when waked at an early hour after deep 
 and dreamless sleep, and I half forgot my injured 
 condition as I waited with stirring pulses for as- 
 sault. The man if man he was would doubt- 
 less be armed. If with a pistol, it would do me no 
 good to start up and make a mark of myself anew 
 before he was within my striking distance. Of any 
 other weapon I had little fear, for he was small,
 
 286 A Hand in the Game 
 
 this fellow a boy, it seemed, and undersized at 
 that, if I should allow for the probable magnifying 
 influence of the dark. 
 
 He was slow and cautious to the last degree. I 
 had time to grow impatient while he stopped and 
 stood and waited and watched and listened. He 
 made not a sound now, that I could hear. There 
 was no scuff or stumble that could wake a cat. I 
 had time to calculate what I would do and plan a 
 trick for taking him by surprise, so that grappling 
 with him would be easy and safe in case he had 
 a knife. 
 
 And then suddenly I began to be conscious of the 
 stale odor of cigarettes about me once more, and 
 the meaning of this thing broke upon me. At the 
 same instant I also began to see that the aim of this 
 queer creature was not at me at all, but that he 
 was meaning only to pass me and my bed, in slow 
 painstaking attempt to reach my closet door. 
 
 When I saw that I bolstered up my patience. 
 Here, then, was to be the elucidation of one of our 
 riddles the riddle of the bringing of our " red 
 letters." Here was the mischief-maker who had 
 fooled us all and done as much to hurt Hal as had 
 any other agent or effort of his enemies. And I 
 began to solve the doings of the rascal there, as I 
 lay watching his enormously careful progress 
 through my room. The cigarette in the path, the 
 plan of the grounds on the stairs, the cigarettes in 
 the attic, the odor in my room, the broken vase, the
 
 A Ghost that Smoked 287 
 
 disappearance of the prowler who could not have 
 gone through the locked door. All these minor mys- 
 teries linked together hung about this little chap 
 who now, almost in arm's length of me, was creep- 
 ing past me on some new mission. It would be his 
 last here. 
 
 I moved slightly. The small figure stood still as 
 a block of stone. I began to breathe heavily, in 
 feigned semblance of sleep. He crept on. I even 
 tried a slight snore in rising spirit of jest. The 
 effect was to lighten the fellow's caution. He 
 reached the door of my closet. It was closed. He 
 opened it slowly without a sound from the knob. 
 Then stepping inside, he drew it carefully together 
 after him and was gone. 
 
 In an instant, regardless of wounds or orders, 
 I was out of bed. Next moment I had turned on 
 my lights from a switch by the door and was back 
 at the closet. Recalling painstakingly the exact loca- 
 tion of the light inside, I then turned the knob and 
 drew open the door and reached instantly to fill the 
 closet with light. Next moment there was a crash. 
 Something seemed to fall from above and strike the 
 floor at my feet, and a wild little animal plunged 
 against my legs in a desperate scramble to get by 
 and out. 
 
 I reached down and caught him up clear of the 
 floor and turned to the light. I held him tight by 
 the collar of his coat; but he did not offer to strug- 
 gle, and I was so much surprised at that, that I
 
 a88 A Hand in the Game 
 
 set him on his feet and nearly lost my hold because 
 of the sudden effort he made to escape the instant 
 he felt the slight loosening of my hands. 
 
 But I did not quite let him go. I drew him over 
 to the hall door which was open. I closed it quickly 
 and locked it, taking out the key. Returning to the 
 bed, within arm's length of the closet opening, I 
 released my prisoner and sat down. He was a 
 strange little rat of a creature, half man, half boy, 
 and I no sooner had a fair look at him than my pity 
 went out to him. 
 
 He stood quite still now. Evidently he knew 
 when he was caught, He was a hunchback, bent 
 over and twisted with his deformity. His face was 
 small and pinched, his figure thin. His eyes, how- 
 ever, were bright and clear and shrewd. He looked 
 all of twenty-five years old. 
 
 " Well," said I to him, " and who may you be ? " 
 
 He did not answer me. His eyes went over me 
 with obvious measuring glance. 
 
 " See here," said I, " be honest with me. You're 
 caught and your game is up. Now tell me all about 
 it and I'll let you off the easier for it." 
 
 Still he did not answer. His eyes shifted around 
 the room, looked at me again, then turned all about 
 once more. I reached out and took hold of his 
 small misshapen shoulders. 
 
 " See here," said I, " who sent you here ? " 
 
 No answer ; but he looked at me and then seemed 
 unable to look away again.
 
 A Ghost that Smoked 289 
 
 " Did you come to take something away from 
 my room ? " I asked, resorting to the more direct 
 form of question. 
 
 He shook his head now. 
 
 "Why, then? To see if Mr. Philbric is still in 
 the house?" 
 
 His eyes narrowed, but he was silent. 
 
 "Was that it?" I asked. 
 
 His look grew cunning. Then he dropped his 
 eyes. 
 
 " I see," said I. " Well, you haven't found him, 
 have you ? He isn't here, is he ? " 
 
 He shook his head. I wondered how much prowl- 
 ing the little fellow could have done about the place. 
 " Did you come through that closet ? " I asked. 
 
 He nodded. I rose to my feet and went to the 
 closet door again. The light from the incandescent 
 inside gave me enough illumination to see distinctly. 
 I looked around the walls and then at the ceiling. 
 In an instant I made a curious discovery. The ceil- 
 ing was of boarding and in one corner a portion 
 of it was misplaced and showed a trap-door as 
 plainly as could be desired. 
 
 " Oh," said I, " that's the way you came in? " 
 
 He did not answer, but looked strangely at me. 
 
 " Did Judson Bain send you to spy on this 
 house?" 
 
 Another shake of the head. 
 
 " Did any of Bain's men send you? " 
 
 No answer.
 
 290 A Hand in the Game 
 
 " Now, young man," I said, " you may as well 
 tell me. Did Wheeler Scancey send you?" 
 
 His eyes had been dodging mine. As I mentioned 
 the lawyer's name they stopped suddenly in the 
 effort and looked straight at me again. " They 
 made me," he said suddenly. 
 
 " Of course they did. Scancey sent you, did he? 
 Did he come here with you ? " 
 
 The head shook decidedly. 
 
 " You are the fellow who brought the message 
 from Bain or Scancey to Mr. Hal the day that Punk 
 Salver was shot ? " said I. 
 
 He looked at me queerly, then suddenly shook 
 his head once more, but with a violence that was 
 suggestive of greater responsiveness. 
 
 " Not from Bain or Scancey ? " I asked. 
 
 " From Punk," said he, as abruptly as he had 
 spoken before. 
 
 " You brought the message from Punk himself ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 The thing startled me. Here was evidence cer- 
 tainly. I pulled him around and made him sit down 
 on the edge of the bed beside me. 
 
 "If you will tell me the exact truth about all 
 this," said I, " I will let you go free and, what is 
 more, I will be your friend." 
 
 " Punk sent me," repeated the fellow. 
 
 " Yes," said I. " Did Punk pay you anything? " 
 
 " Sure," he answered briefly. 
 
 Then Judson Bain's story of having sent Punk
 
 A Ghost that Smoked 291 
 
 Salver to Hal was one lie that I had disproved if 
 this story was true, and it seemed to have the sound 
 of truth. I began to grow excited. 
 
 " Is somebody waiting outside for you now? " I 
 asked. 
 
 He nodded. 
 
 "Who?" 
 
 " Dad Langhorn," he said. 
 
 " Just why did you come here to-night ? " 
 
 " To see if Hal was here." 
 
 " Don't you know that he went away ? " I haz- 
 arded. 
 
 " No, he didn't." 
 
 I wondered if this positiveness had foundation in 
 the fact that we had effectually deceived our enemy. 
 
 " Why do you say that? " I asked. 
 
 " Mr. King brought him back again." 
 
 "What?" I exclaimed involuntarily. 
 
 " He brought him back. Hal is in the house 
 again." 
 
 It was surely my turn to feel surprise. The 
 fellow spoke with assurance that was enough to 
 shake the firmness of any impression I had had 
 before. Could this thing be true? Had King 
 played a game that he had not revealed to me or 
 to Donna? She had told me that the boy had been 
 taken to a sanitarium in the North. Did she know 
 that to be a fact? Perhaps King had failed in his 
 mission for some reason and had brought the sick 
 boy back to the house secretly, with the plan of
 
 292 A Hand in the Game 
 
 hiding him here better than anywhere else, now that 
 the impression was abroad that he had fled. But 
 this fellow knew it, if such were the case, and he 
 was avowedly the emissary of Scancey. 
 
 "Where is Hal?" I asked suddenly. 
 
 He grinned up in my face. He was gaining more 
 and more confidence from my treatment of him. 
 " Here," he replied. " We saw him come back." 
 
 I believed him. 
 
 " Do you smoke cigarettes ? " 
 
 " Yes," he said wonderingly. 
 
 I took hold of his hand and looked at his ringers. 
 The telltale stains showed on them plainly. " What 
 kind?" I asked. 
 
 " Peacherino." 
 
 " Who is Dad Langhorn ? " I asked, without com- 
 ment. 
 
 " Dad Langhorn." 
 
 " Does he live in Hazelhurst ? " 
 
 He nodded. 
 
 " What is your name ? " 
 
 "Garth." 
 
 " Where do you live ? " 
 
 " At the livery." 
 
 I wondered if I might not be able to dress. I 
 felt weak, but I determined to try. The hunch- 
 back made no move whatever. He sat looking about 
 him. He was certainly a strange little creature. If 
 half of what he had told me was true our case 
 might suddenly take a new turn to-day. But which
 
 A Ghost that Smoked 293 
 
 way it would turn was a question to which I could 
 not foretell the answer. Developments were com- 
 ing faster than I could anticipate, however. I was 
 only weakly beginning a toilet when there was a 
 knock at my door. I went to open it, and there 
 in the dim light of the hall stood Hal himself, quite 
 unmistakably, pale and haggard in the first gray of 
 the coming morning.
 
 CHAPTER XXVI 
 THE WAY OF A SPY 
 
 I THINK neither of us spoke for half a minute 
 after the appearance of the boy at my door. 
 Hal stood still and looked first at me and then at 
 the hunchback on the bed, with almost as complete 
 surprise as I felt in looking upon him. At last he 
 spoke. 
 
 " I heard you talking and came to see you," he 
 announced. " I heard about your hurts and was 
 too anxious about you to wait." 
 
 " And haven't you been away ? " I asked, aston- 
 ished. 
 
 " Oh, yes, of course. But didn't King tell you ? " 
 
 " King tells me nothing, Hal. He doesn't like 
 me." 
 
 The boy smiled languidly. Then he looked again 
 at the hunchback. " What are you doing here, 
 Garth ? " he asked, to my surprise, showing ready 
 recognition of the fellow. 
 
 " He came to look for you," answered I. " Evi- 
 dently Scancey knows that you did not get away." 
 
 " Did Scancey send you? " asked Hal of the spy. 
 
 The fellow seemed more free to speak to Philbric 
 294
 
 The Way of a Spy 295 
 
 than to me. " Yes, he sent me," he said. " He 
 knows you came back." 
 
 " I was afraid so," said Hal. " I stayed in 
 King's room, Randall." 
 
 " This is the young man who has been favoring 
 you with the ' red letters,' " said I. 
 
 Hal looked at him. " Oh, it was you, was it, 
 Garth? What did you do it for? " 
 
 The hunchback looked at him oddly, then sud- 
 denly replied : " Money, of course." 
 
 " We have several clues here, Hal," I said. " The 
 chap admits that Punk sent him to you." 
 
 " Of course," said Philbric. " Where have you 
 been since, Garth?" he asked coolly. 
 
 " Up to Scancey's," answered the other. 
 
 " Haven't I been kind to you, young man ? Why 
 have you been working against me ? " 
 
 The hunchback looked at him again with a queer 
 expression, but no answer. Then Philbric asked 
 the natural question : " How did you get in ? " 
 
 " Through the garret and a trap-door in the ceil- 
 ing of my closet," said I. 
 
 Philbric stared at me, his memory evidently 
 searching his knowledge of the old house for some 
 understanding of this. " Well, by all that's 
 strange ! " he exclaimed suddenly. " I never knew 
 that there was such a place." 
 
 The hunchback grinned. " Dad Langhorn put 
 me wise," he announced easily. 
 
 "Well, shades of the chiefs!" exclaimed Hal,
 
 296 A Hand in the Game 
 
 giving voice to surprise again. " Randall, Dad 
 Langhorn used to work for my father years ago. 
 He was a carpenter, but he got to drinking and 
 drifted down till he was no good. He has been a 
 bum about town for years. You say Dad Langhorn 
 told you about that trap-door?" he asked again of 
 the boy. " Did he send you here ? " 
 
 " He come with me." 
 
 " Is he about the place now, then? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 Philbric stepped to the bell in my room and 
 touched it. In a moment there was a sound of 
 quick feet in the hall and a rap at my door. Hal 
 opened it and old John stood outside. 
 
 " Get out the men quietly, John," he said, " and 
 look for a man in the grounds. Old Dad Langhorn 
 is snooping about somewhere." 
 
 Old John stared at the hunchback. " Where'd 
 he come from ? " he asked of Hal. 
 
 " He's our ghost, it seems, John," answered Hal. 
 
 I had found I could not dress. I lay back upon 
 the bed and suggested that Hal take the hunch- 
 back, therefore, and go to the garret to look at 
 the trap. They went. In ten minutes they were 
 back with a story of as curious a contrivance as I 
 have ever heard of. A small closet there was, off 
 the garret, to which the hunchback led. There, to 
 Hal's amazement, he pointed out that a portion of 
 its floor made solidly of boards and so well 
 matched with the rest that the division would never
 
 The Way of a Spy 297 
 
 be noticed when it was in place was arranged as 
 a door to open down into the closet below. Hal 
 was firmly of the opinion that if the spy had not left 
 it out of place at the time when he tried to escape 
 from me, it would never have been discovered. The 
 trap fitted perfectly in place when it was pushed 
 around to its proper position. Garth told us readily, 
 in answer to questions, that he had been told by 
 Langhorn just how to climb to the roof of the west 
 wing, and in at a garret window, and to find the 
 place; and then how to raise the trap by lifting a 
 piece of molding at the bottom of the wainscot in 
 the darkest portion of the closet, which concealed 
 a hand-hold for his fingers. The place had once 
 been the only means of access to that portion of 
 the garret over the west wing. Through the top 
 the spy had descended into the closet below, by 
 means of hooks and the chest of drawers immedi- 
 ately beneath the opening. His errands had been 
 simply the delivery of the messages in Hal's room 
 without discovery, and it appeared that his knowl- 
 edge of the house was due to the very kindness of 
 Hal himself, who had tried to befriend the queer 
 chap and had actually tried to employ him at one 
 time a year or two before. The fellow had left him, 
 however, and afterwards had given no excuse for 
 it, and Philbric had concluded that it was because 
 he preferred the low life of the men at the stables. 
 He had still been kind to the cripple, however, and 
 the latter had been at The Hazels on odd jobs
 
 298 A Hand in the Game 
 
 often, even up to within a few days before the 
 shooting. 
 
 When I had listened to the whole of his tale I 
 wondered no longer. He showed extraordinary 
 shrewdness in the ways in which he had dodged un- 
 suspecting servants and members of the household. 
 And he told of the first experiments being made 
 before my room was occupied, so that he had 
 gained skill in the manipulation of his trap-door and 
 in getting down and up before he had greater risks 
 to take. But I confess that I felt there could be 
 only a strange obliquity in the mind of the fellow 
 that corresponded to the deformation of his body 
 to account for his doings. And so it proved after- 
 wards. 
 
 Our men came in to report soon after Hal's re- 
 turn. They reported failure, too, unfortunately. 
 They had not found Dad Langhorn. He was gone. 
 Perhaps he had taken alarm at the long absence of 
 the boy and had fled, and after events made that 
 seem probable indeed. But the effect of our activ- 
 ities had been to stir the house to wakefulness and 
 it was but a few moments after we had completed 
 our investigation of the garret that Donna herself, 
 and almost immediately afterwards King, came to 
 join us. 
 
 Donna made considerable fuss about my condi- 
 tion, and I had to acknowledge to myself that I had 
 been playing to the limit of my strength. And 
 despite my interest in what was going on, I was
 
 The Way of a Spy 299 
 
 forced to remain in my bed. They all gathered 
 in my room, however. And then I heard all that 
 had happened to King and Hal during the previous 
 day. 
 
 They had driven away with the hope of making a 
 quick run to the sanitarium which stood near the 
 mountains on the north, and they had actually 
 reached the place, only to find, when they made 
 their request for a refuge, that the sanitarium peo- 
 ple would not take Hal in. It was not entirely 
 incomprehensible, of course, for the superintendent 
 of the place foresaw undesirable publicity attached 
 to the case, if not worse, if he should harbor the 
 young man who was making a sensational run from 
 the law in his strange disguise. At any rate there 
 was nothing the superintendent would do for them 
 for love or money. 
 
 The thing had so much discouraged Hal, who 
 had already made serious objections to the whole 
 scheme, that King turned about with the plan of 
 consulting Donna by telephone. When they got to 
 a place where they could telephone the house, they 
 received such a strange message that they at once 
 became alarmed for the safety of the girl herself. 
 One of the servants had told them that Donna also 
 had run away from the officers. It developed after- 
 wards that a confused story of what had actually 
 happened had gotten about the house, and that some 
 of the maids were so thoroughly frightened and 
 puzzled that they could hardly give an intelligible
 
 300 A Hand in the Game 
 
 answer to the questions asked of them. King, anx- 
 ious, and Hal, half wild with terror, therefore, took 
 the shortest path back; and when they arrived late 
 in the afternoon, and found that Donna had actu- 
 ally gone away and with me, they were thoroughly 
 at sea. King started all sorts of activities to dis- 
 cover our whereabouts, but nothing had come of any 
 of them, when we ourselves appeared and told our 
 story. But King had deliberately kept the truth 
 regarding Hal from me, as I needed no footnotes 
 to inform me at the end of the tale, though I did not 
 comment on the fact then. 
 
 The household was up early and the housekeeper 
 got an early breakfast for us while we debated what 
 next to do. Hal was not at all amenable to the 
 wishes of the rest of us that he should try again to 
 escape. The news that the hunchback had brought 
 to us that Bain and Scancey knew of the return of 
 Philbric made me more eager than ever that Hal 
 should run for it again while he had a chance; for 
 I could foresee that there would be another effort 
 to arrest him at once, or at least as soon as Dad 
 Langhorn should carry back to town his story of 
 Garth's probable detection and detention. But I 
 did not anticipate how fast Langhorn's news would 
 travel to his principals, or how nearly they were 
 prepared to act. 
 
 I think Donna was the least disturbed of any of 
 us at first. She seemed, too, to be quite unconscious 
 of any reason for feeling shy of me, despite my
 
 The Way of a Spy 301 
 
 declaration of the night before. What to augur 
 from this was quite beyond me. It looked painfully 
 like indifference, though I could hardly believe she 
 could be merely indifferent to such a thing. I dared 
 not build hopes. It seemed too obviously hopeless 
 a case for me. But I could not help watching the 
 girl for a sign of her attitude toward me, which 
 amounted to almost the same as hope-building. And 
 I did feel the better that her fears seemed for the 
 time a little less than I had thought they might 
 be. I had no chance to talk alone with her, how- 
 ever. Whether she avoided such an opportunity 
 purposely, I cannot say. It seems to me not entirely 
 unlikely. 
 
 Hal, however, seemed to cling more closely to 
 me than ever. He was determined that he would 
 not try to run away again, but otherwise he was 
 very tractable and he seemed to prefer to be with 
 me rather than with King or any of the others. He 
 did not tell me why, though I guessed it in part. 
 He seemed to look upon King with some curious 
 fear now, and I believed that it might have to do 
 with the sanitarium suggestion. If that idea were 
 in his head I could hardly blame him for preferring 
 the man who wanted him to run to the woods, if he 
 were to run at all. The place certainly held the 
 pleasanter suggestion. 
 
 But he did not run. We had no chance. Our 
 enemies were alert now, and they acted too soon 
 for us to come to any conclusion at all after dis-
 
 302 A Hand in the Game 
 
 agreement in our first discussion. We had only 
 just finished the early breakfast a queer little di- 
 vided household of us when the alarm came that 
 brought the crisis of all our trouble suddenly 
 upon us.
 
 CHAPTER XXVII 
 VENUS GIVES UP A SECRET 
 
 I WAS so determined that I would have a part in 
 the day's proceedings, despite my injuries, that 
 I persuaded John to help me into some clothing and 
 downstairs again. But I had only just arrived in 
 the library amid a flurry of surprise and remon- 
 strance, and settled myself on the couch there, when 
 John, who had gone promptly out, came suddenly 
 back again, with fear and trembling, to announce 
 that the officers were at hand. He was half apolo- 
 getic, poor old fellow, and more than half terror- 
 ized if such division of emotions may be allowed 
 as he stood before us, giving us the warning that 
 came too late for us to take any other action than to 
 brace ourselves to meet what should come. I have 
 many times remembered his old face, wrinkled with 
 the anxiety of the moment, as he said : " They've 
 come, Mr. Hal Mr. King, sir. The officers have 
 come." 
 
 They had come indeed. They were in the porch 
 before they were discovered, as we had no sentries 
 out that morning, and they crowded in upon us 
 almost as soon as John had the words out of his 
 
 303
 
 304 A Hand in the Game 
 
 mouth. But it was not the arrival of officers alone 
 that caused my wrath suddenly to rise to boiling heat 
 as I saw the men in the big hall, gathering about our 
 library door. It was the fact that, with them, as 
 active participant in this early morning raid upon 
 us, was Judson Bain himself, vindictive, deter- 
 mined, fierce with passion that meant not to be 
 balked now, and that had provided abundantly to 
 see his enterprise through to the end. 
 
 The town marshal, Clausen, was ostensibly the 
 leader of the gang there were six of them. But 
 he was not the backbone of the party. Bain was 
 that. But with Bain I was not a little dismayed to 
 see the curly-headed one with whom I had had the 
 adventure of the day before, and whom I had left 
 lying half-drowned on the bank of the river back of 
 Cold Spring. Here, then, were two men who had 
 plenty of hatred for me personally, as the result 
 of my escapades and who were bent upon revenge, 
 not only against me but against Hal as well; and 
 the thought made me feel suddenly that I had played 
 a poor game indeed, that had balked them not a 
 whit and had only made them the more eager for 
 retaliation against us all. 
 
 " We want two men here," was the announcement 
 that the marshal made as they crowded into the 
 room on the heels of old John, as it were. And I, 
 with the sense of my own heavy responsibility, 
 struggled up with the whole strength of my being 
 in rebellion against the thing. I did not try to
 
 Venus Gives Up a Secret 305 
 
 stand at first, but sat up on my couch and sent in 
 my challenge with heart enough to make them 
 pause. 
 
 " What authority have you for coming into this 
 house in this fashion?" I demanded. I knew the 
 relief that parleying will sometimes bring to what 
 may at first appear like a disastrous situation. 
 
 " You know me, sir," answered the marshal with 
 sufficiently decent respect. 
 
 " I know you claim to be the marshal of Hazel- 
 hurst," said I. " And I am ready to grant that you 
 are. But who are these ? " 
 
 I indicated Bain and the rest with a sweep of the 
 hand that was intended to nettle the big red-faced 
 and red-eyed man. And the stroke told. 
 
 " I think I have you where I want you now," he 
 cried out at me. 
 
 I grinned at him. " Oh," said I, " you are my 
 friend of the little hut back of Cold Spring, aren't 
 you?" 
 
 He cursed, without regard for the presence of 
 Donna and Aunt Charlotte. " Yes," he cried. 
 " But you won't get away this time." 
 
 " It's a little incautious of you to admit that inci- 
 dent, isn't it," I asked, " in presence of all these 
 witnesses? " 
 
 He was taken aback, as I intended he should be. 
 He feared he had made a more compromising ad- 
 mission than it amounted to, and it made him furi- 
 ous to be so tricked.
 
 306 A Hand in the Game 
 
 " Never mind ! " he cried. " I know what I'm 
 about now." 
 
 " I suppose you've come to answer to me for the 
 assault upon me in your office on the first day I 
 arrived in this town," said I. " Is that it ? Or 
 have you made up your mind to take me while you 
 are here to take Philbric, so that you can break us 
 together?" 
 
 " Yes, both of you," he cried, unguardedly again. 
 
 " Another amiable admission," said I. " Wit- 
 ness to this, my friends. We have a pretty case 
 against the man already, I think." 
 
 But while I spoke a sudden idea came to me for 
 a play that should bring things to a head with sud- 
 denness that might materially change our fortunes. 
 I got slowly upon my feet and turned to Bain. 
 
 " You know," said I, " that if Clarence Salver 
 were alive and here you would be in prison or in 
 flight at this moment." 
 
 He paled a bit, and I suddenly made up my mind. 
 I took a step toward him and shook my fist almost in 
 his face. 
 
 " Judson Bain," I cried, raising my voice higher, 
 " you are a liar, a conspirator, a coward, a would-be 
 murderer. You stand here perjured and convicted. 
 You are guilty of more crimes than I can mention 
 in a breath and you are going to suffer a richly de- 
 served punishment for them all. You have schemed 
 wisely and well, with the aid of that fox Scancey, 
 haven't you? But do you know what you are fac-
 
 Venus Gives Up a Secret 307 
 
 ing now? I'll tell you, just for the pleasure of 
 seeing you cringe and break here before the boy 
 you have tried to ruin. The girl you have been 
 trying to hide has been traced. The hunchback, 
 Garth, your agent used for a tool in spying on this 
 house has confessed. And what is more, you fondly 
 overconfident rogue, your crime has found you out, 
 for the letters the letters that Punk Salver stole 
 from your office and that you know fie stole the 
 letters that have evidence in them to support Hal 
 Philbric's story from start to finish the letters have 
 turned up, after all. They are here, safe and ac- 
 counted for, here in this room ! " 
 
 I could have roared with laughter at the face of 
 him. Bluff, pure bluff it was on my part, but it 
 succeeded far beyond any dream I could have cher- 
 ished for it if I had had time to dream of such 
 things. It was done on the spur of the moment 
 and with only the moment to prepare tfie manner of 
 it, but it went home like the thrust of steel in his 
 black old heart. He fairly quailed before me. He 
 took a backward step. He turned white as the 
 collar about his fat neck and his very face seemed 
 to shrink. He never dreamed that it was not the 
 truth that I was speaking so bravely. He never 
 suspected that it was one more game for him 
 another trap for his clumsy feet. And he slipped 
 into it like the coward that he was. 
 
 He gasped. " Where are they ? " he asked, with 
 a trembling hand extended in helpless gesture.
 
 308 A Hand in the Game 
 
 " Here," I cried. " Right here," and I slapped 
 my own pocket as if with all the confidence in the 
 world. 
 
 He stared at me, his whole face expressive of 
 his conviction that he was caught. And then, all 
 at once, I saw the thing in his eyes that I might 
 have expected. I saw him turning to bay. And 
 before I could stir he made the move I should have 
 anticipated. Suddenly crouching and grasping the 
 heavy stick he carried in his hand, he made a mad 
 leap at me and struck with all his might at my 
 head. 
 
 I dodged and the blow fell short. My move, 
 however, brought me against the fireplace and al- 
 most directly in front of Donna. I felt a stab of 
 agony in my wound and I instantly saw that the 
 next blow he aimed at me which would of course 
 be immediate, must fall on me, for I could not 
 dodge again. The men at the door were too much 
 surprised to act and so were my friends. Indeed, 
 King was at the farther end of the room and Hal 
 was beyond the table. Both of them started for- 
 ward 'King with a leap that I have remembered 
 as an offset against his former attitude toward me. 
 But neither could be in time. I had nothing with 
 which to ward off his blow and I was in no condi- 
 tion to make a plunge at him that could be ef- 
 fective. I saw his second blow coming and was 
 helpless. 
 
 But at the instant the man Clausen sprang for-
 
 Venus Gives Up a Secret 309 
 
 ward and struck the big man's arm. It was not an 
 effective stroke but it saved my head. It diverted 
 Bain's cruel blow, and the cane came down, not 
 upon me, but with a jangling crash upon the bric-a- 
 brac on the mantel. Next instant Clausen had 
 hurled himself upon my enemy and they went down 
 to the floor together, while the nervy little constable 
 crushed his hands over the other's face and crowded 
 his big head back till he was helpless. 
 
 The other men came to his aid then, and the 
 marshal himself was promptly up and took charge 
 of the fellow. He shoved a big gun in Bain's face 
 with prompt promise to use it if the man started 
 further violence. 
 
 I sat faintly in a chair with the certainty that I 
 had opened my wounds again and wondering how I 
 was to make good the bluff that had brought on 
 this action. But before I had time to think of an- 
 other act of my own, I heard a cry from Donna that 
 made me forget everything else. I turned to see 
 her drop down upon the floor among the fragments 
 of broken mantel ornaments, almost as if they were 
 her only concern. And then, all at once, I saw a 
 thing that made me forget the fight and all it 
 threatened upon us, in an instant of huge amaze- 
 ment. For there, among crushed fragments of a 
 little statuette of the Venus de Milo, under her 
 hands where she knelt and gathered them to her 
 with eagerness like a child's over beloved toys that 
 have been scattered, I saw a little group of papers,
 
 310 A Hand in the Game 
 
 curled up with being long rolled together, but lying 
 there upon the tiles of the hearth as if they had been 
 forced by some magic up into sight from a hiding- 
 place below. And I understood the cry that an- 
 nounced discovery indeed. 
 
 I did not move toward her. I only looked on. 
 So did all the rest of the spellbound group, including 
 Judson Bain himself, from his position on the floor 
 where he still lay while the girl drew the papers 
 together, pressed them to her like the precious pos- 
 sessions they were now, and turned to her brother. 
 And never shall I forget the face of her or of Hal 
 as she put them into his hands. 
 
 " They are found, indeed," was what she said as 
 she turned back to me, and the shout that Hal 
 uttered was almost an echo to her words, as he 
 opened the curling sheets and took one glance at 
 them and then waved them, 1 in wild rejoicing above 
 his head. 
 
 I turned to look at Bain. The fight was gone 
 out of him now. He sat with his big body bent 
 forward, his eyes staring, his face pale, with the 
 beaten look on his drooping lips, with his hands 
 spread helplessly on the floor and his breath coming 
 in gasps that suggested shuddering. 
 
 I turned to the marshal. " There's your man, 
 Clausen," I said. " He isn't the one you came for, 
 but he will do. I had one good case against him, 
 but we'll forget that. I charge him with conspiracy, 
 and I will appear against him with every one of the
 
 Venus Gives Up a Secret 311 
 
 men who is with us here as a witness to this final 
 scene." 
 
 "But where were those papers all this time?" 
 asked Aunt Charlotte, from the background where 
 she had stood trembling throughout the scene. 
 " Why didn't you bring them forward sooner, Mr. 
 Randall?" 
 
 " Because," said I, watching Bain, " it seems that 
 the little Venus de Milo had them safely stored 
 in her hollow interior. Mr. Bain just found them 
 for us."
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII 
 WHAT COULDN'T BE HELPED 
 
 T T was what had happened. Simple enough it was 
 * when we knew. The lost papers were found. 
 The little statuette, like all other plaster casts, was 
 hollow, and none of us had remembered it. It had 
 been the hiding place Salver had chosen with clev- 
 erness that was almost our undoing. But the cane 
 of Judson Bain, intended to break my devoted head, 
 had crushed the fragile lady instead and had re- 
 vealed her secret in the very crisis of our desperate 
 case. Hal was saved; and the very look of him had 
 changed ten minutes after the convincing evidence 
 of the truth of his whole story had been discovered. 
 I have never seen happiness and assurance do any 
 one so much good as it did him that day. 
 
 The warlike scene in the library ended very 
 promptly indeed. The marshal took Bain out. He 
 was like a man in a dream, dazed by the suddenness 
 of his downfall. His aids followed, and I looked 
 in the face of Curly Conrad and laughed, as I re- 
 called the last time I had faced him. And the little 
 villain dared not even twist his face at me because 
 of what had happened to his principal. 
 
 312
 
 What Couldn't be Helped 313 
 
 And then then came the explanations that we 
 needed to piece out our story. The hunchback 
 Garth, whom we had turned over to the servants and 
 had nearly forgotten in the doings of the hour, came 
 to the front again, and told us a tale that revealed 
 many things. He it had been who, happening to be 
 at the house, had learned of the revolver in the 
 library table drawer on the day Hal had shot at 
 the hawk. And he it was who had told Salver of 
 it. Moreover, he remembered that it had not been 
 reloaded before Hal put it back into the drawer. 
 That was all in his confession. Then he told a 
 strange story. The girl Luella Westfall had indeed 
 been kidnapped by Bain and Scancey and was even 
 then confined in Scancey's house where he, Garth, 
 had been kept out of sight. He told of a conversa- 
 tion he had overheard that explained the midnight 
 run of the automobile from Bain's which the young 
 lawyer, Cole, had witnessed, and which had drawn 
 me off upon the chase to Cold Spring. It appeared 
 that the girl had indeed gone to Bain, but for quite 
 a different purpose than that which would naturally 
 be ascribed to her. Hers was a sad story indeed. 
 The boy stated that she told in his hearing what 
 was afterward a part of her testimony in court 
 that she was the lawful, though secret, wife of no 
 less a person than Clarence Salver himself, and that 
 she knew that he had robbed the offices of Judson 
 Bain and intended to use the letters he had found 
 there to get money from Hal, Fenelon, or from
 
 314 A Hand in the Game 
 
 Bain himself. Only his wild violence at The Hazels, 
 which had resulted in the shooting, had brought his 
 scheme to naught and himself to the end of a worth- 
 less career. The hiding of the papers, almost the 
 final act of his life, however, was characteristic of 
 him in the cleverness of its instantaneous concep- 
 tion and execution. Bain had taken the girl in hand 
 with threats and promises, till he had managed to 
 get her into his house ; and he had then shut her up, 
 taking her to Cold Spring and later transferring 
 her back to Scancey's home, keeping her quiet by 
 frightening her. He had never taken her to Hart 
 at all, so Curly Conrad had been quick enough to 
 fool me once, at least. 
 
 But when Barnaby was notified of what had hap- 
 pened at The Hazels, there quickly developed one 
 more amazing thing. The strange woman, mother 
 of the Westfall girl, had found her own tongue after 
 her daughter's mistreatment, and she had come for- 
 ward with a charge that capped the sheaf of Bain's 
 villainy. For she told and proved abundantly by 
 letters and keepsakes, strangely cherished through 
 many silent years, that that heartless villain was 
 the father of the very luckless girl whom he had 
 tried to involve in shameful scandal. She said that 
 she herself had been deserted, but had finally found 
 the author of her trouble and had forced him to 
 care for them both on pain of exposure. Punk 
 Salver, the mother said, had discovered the truth 
 about the time he had married her daughter, and
 
 What Couldn't be Helped 315 
 
 he had Brightened the girl into silence about their 
 wedding, while he himself had blackmailed Bain. 
 It had been in a fit of anger, because Bain would 
 not meet an unusually heavy demand, that he had 
 stolen the letters. 
 
 It was a sad story, indeed, and the less detailed 
 the better. But Barnaby had moved quickly enough 
 to compass the arrest of Scancey and the finding of 
 the girl in his home. Also several arrests were 
 made at Cold Spring on my complaint, for the 
 shooting that had nearly done for me. And so 
 before our morning was over there was an end of 
 the necessity for us to hold our own weapons, for 
 our enemies were all either in the toils or disarmed. 
 
 Doctor Graham came before we had finished our 
 talk together in the library. It was at his order 
 that I was stretched again upon my bed in my cham- 
 ber; but he allowed the little conclave to hold ses- 
 sion there rather than shut me out of all the final 
 explanations. And there I heard the complete 
 stories from him and from King that gave me their 
 sides of the matter. It was no wonder that they 
 had looked upon me with question. I realized then, 
 too, that King's attitude was no more blameworthy 
 toward me than mine toward the good doctor, for 
 he, if not a wise man, was true, also. He told us 
 frankly that he had serious doubt of the existence 
 of the letters which Hal thought he had seen, from 
 the very first, and he related a number of instances 
 of various sorts of self-deception that he had ob-
 
 316 A Hand in the Game 
 
 served in nervous sufferers, to show that his posi- 
 tion was not unreasonable. But I have never been 
 able to understand his feeling and I have only ex- 
 cused him because I did him a wrong in thinking 
 that he might have had to do with the disappearance 
 of the letters, and because, poor chap, I learned 
 afterwards, that he himself had loved Donna Phil- 
 brie, even as I did. 
 
 As for King that honest chap came to me and 
 apologized like a man for treating me as he had, 
 and my liking for him grew, though he seemed yet 
 to stand between me and all that made my share in 
 this happy finish of our adventure worth while. We 
 parted friends when he went back to town that 
 noon, for the doctor insisted that I should not be 
 allowed to move again till my wounds were thor- 
 oughly healed, and the Philbrics, brother and sister, 
 would not hear to my going to a city hospital. And 
 that night, after a long sleep that brought back some 
 of my strength again, I listened to a brief story 
 from the boy that was not the least curious part 
 of the revelations, nor the least satisfactory of the 
 developments of my experience. 
 
 " Randall," he said, " when you were a boy you 
 had a devoted nurse who was named Maggie 
 Valentine?" 
 
 " Why, yes," I answered. Dear old Maggie ! 
 She had taken care of me in my childhood and had 
 been the most devoted of nurses. Afterwards she 
 had gone to my uncle's household. But I had writ-
 
 What Couldn't be Helped 317 
 
 ten to her for years and had sent the little remit- 
 tances I have mentioned, for my affection for the 
 kindly woman, who had done much for me after 
 my own dear mother had died, had been one of the 
 lasting things of my life. 
 
 Hal looked at me and laughed, as I answered him 
 quite unsuspectingly. " Don't you put two and two 
 together, old man? " he asked. 
 
 " Not yet," said I obtusely. 
 
 " Well, then," said the boy, " I'll have to do it 
 for you. Maggie Valentine was also nurse to 
 Donna and me when we were little folks. She came 
 to our home from yours." 
 
 I lay quite still and looked up at him with my 
 mind leaping swiftly enough now to grasp explana- 
 tions of some things that had happened to me at 
 The Hazels. Hal sat beside my bed watching my 
 face and enjoying my look. Then he laughed at 
 me again. 
 
 " You are a little tin saint to Maggie, Dan Ran- 
 dall," he said. " She idolized you as a small boy 
 if ever a nurse idolized a charge. And she has 
 talked of you to Donna and to me till your name 
 has been to us like the name of a favorite character 
 out of a story book. And we have known Maggie 
 all these years; and while you have been sending 
 her money she has been singing your praises tire- 
 lessly to us. Do you wonder that we were sur- 
 prised and interested when you turned up to take 
 a real hand in the affairs of the Philbrics as you
 
 318 A Hand in the Game 
 
 did in such odd fashion? Do you wonder we felt 
 that we knew you ? " 
 
 " Good old Maggie ! " said I. " It was one of 
 my plans to look her up as soon as I should arrive 
 in the city. So that is the story, is it? That was 
 the cause of my welcome when I came without in- 
 troduction ? " 
 
 Hal smiled again. " That was your introduc- 
 tion, Randall." But he continued to smile at me 
 in a sort of enigmatic way and I knew this was not 
 all. I asked him. " No," he answered, " that isn't 
 all, but it is all I shall tell you now." 
 
 I could not prevail upon him to give me any fur- 
 ther details and certain recollections then made me 
 cease to ask it of him. But later I learned all of 
 the rest. 
 
 It was the next morning, another glorious morn- 
 ing of April sunshine, that Donna and Aunt Char- 
 lotte allowed me to have my way about getting up, 
 to the extent of making a place for me in the library 
 again, where I should be quiet; and old John in- 
 sisted on helping me down thither, though I felt 
 fit enough, despite the disturbance to which my 
 hurts had been subjected. It was Sunday morning, 
 too, and I, who had not thought even to name a day 
 since I had come, read the paper's accounts of the 
 happenings of yesterday and smoked my forgotten 
 pipe, while I reckoned now the even week since a 
 stalled train had dropped me into " the affairs of 
 the Philbrics." And then I lay and listened to
 
 What Couldn't be Helped 319 
 
 church bells ringing across a peaceful countryside 
 and let a dream have its dangerous course. 
 
 It was while I lay there, thoughtfully provided 
 by old John with Hal's tobacco-jar, that a curious 
 solution of our final and now almost forgotten mys- 
 tery came fairly into my hand, as it were. The 
 tobacco had not been touched during the week since 
 the startling tragedy had broken the peace of the 
 home, and I was the first to use the jar. I found 
 the mixture dry, with the first pipe full, and it was 
 when I was delving more deeply for the second sup- 
 ply that my fingers found in the depths of the jar 
 a curious, hard substance. I had no suspicion what 
 it might be when I drew it out, but one glance was 
 enough when I held it up to the light. It was a 
 misshapen piece of lead a bullet the bullet! It 
 was the lost third bullet the one that Punk Salver 
 had fired at Hal on the morning of his fatal visit 
 to the library and that had so mysteriously gone 
 astray. 
 
 How to account for its presence there in the 
 tobacco- jar was at first almost as much of a puzzle 
 as had been the mystery of its disappearance previ- 
 ously, but I studied it out. Investigation got me up 
 from my couch again, but it resulted in satisfaction 
 this time. Only in one way could that leaden mis- 
 sile have found its way into the jar, and that was 
 by falling in; and I had a sudden recollection of 
 the story Hal had told of how old John, in the me- 
 chanical operations he had performed about the
 
 320 A Hand in the Game 
 
 room after the shooting had " covered the tobacco- 
 jar." I instantly concluded that the bullet could 
 only have hit some object above the open jar and 
 dropped into the tobacco, and five minutes were all 
 that was necessary to fix upon the chandelier as the 
 object hit. Search then revealed the fact that the 
 bullet had gone high, and had indeed struck the 
 chandelier, and had even left slight trace behind, for 
 it had entered the filigree work sphere near the bot- 
 tom and struck the solid tubing within, breaking 
 out a small piece that dropped softly, with the bullet 
 itself, from the hole in the bottom of the sphere, 
 to respose, all unsuspected, in the unused tobacco, 
 till I should find them there. 
 
 I laid the things aside for Hal and went back to 
 my couch to review again the strange order of 
 chance that had played tricks with us. But I was 
 not long alone, for it was then that Donna came 
 to sit by me and talk of what was best to do for 
 Hal and his health, now that we could choose what 
 should be done. But we did not talk of Hal just 
 then. I couldn't. I knew what would be good for 
 the boy and it would be time enough to offer my 
 plan again when I was in condition to carry out the 
 part I meant to have in it. But the thing I had 
 to say to this sweet girl would not wait. Perhaps 
 I was not fair, nor considerate, nor kind, nor gen- 
 erous nor any of the other things a lover should 
 be to the girl he loves when he finds advantage with 
 him. But love has been a ruthless thing with me
 
 What Couldn't be Helped 321 
 
 and my excuse is the old, old one that men have 
 claimed from the beginning. I could not help it. 
 
 She sat by me in the firelight of the library, and 
 all her wonderful beauty laid upon me a spell I 
 could not have conquered if I had had the will. I 
 plead guilty now to all indictments you care to 
 bring. But I must needs put to the touch my fate, 
 then and there, without reck or care for conse- 
 quences if the end did not justify my hope. I had 
 played the cards fate had dealt to me and I must 
 know now whether it was to lose or win. 
 
 " Donna," I said to her, when good Aunt Char- 
 lotte's interests in matters of the household kept her 
 away from us and opportunity opened wide arms 
 to me, " I can travel to the city. My wounds won't 
 suffer for it. You can send me if you wish." 
 
 She began to demur, with a smile that fanned the 
 flame in me beyond control. Her hands lay to- 
 gether on her knees, as she sat regarding me witH 
 earnest eyes, unsuspicious yet of what I meant to 
 say. I put my own upon them, covering them and 
 holding gently against her first startled impulse to 
 draw away. And then I spoke as earnestly and 
 bravely as I could. 
 
 " Donna," I said. " I must have it. I love you ! 
 Is there one spark of hope for me?" I broke off, 
 for it was my all. 
 
 Yes, she started once away from me. I felt her 
 fingers tremble and strive. But I held them and 
 they ceased to struggle. But what shall I say of
 
 322 A Hand in the Game 
 
 the wonder- joy that filled my soul when she turned 
 her lovely face up once more to mine and the smile 
 the beautiful smile came back to drive the 
 startled surprise away and to give me the answer 
 for which I had scarcely dared to dream a hope? 
 And whose forgiveness shall I ask now for incon- 
 sideration now that I have hers ? 
 
 I did not ask her about King. She told me. He 
 had asked her to marry him; not once only, but 
 many times. Poor old King! She simply did not 
 love him. Why she should love me instead I am 
 content to leave an unanswered question. Indeed, 
 what would love be worth that was based on readily 
 stated reasons? 
 
 But she told me then, the thing dear old Maggie 
 Valentine had said and repeated many times, the 
 memory of which it had been that had brought the 
 blood to her face that first day of mine at The 
 Hazels. 
 
 " Dan," she said, " Hal told you about Maggie? " 
 
 " Yes," I answered, " a little. Tell me the rest 
 now." 
 
 She laughed, a happy, delighted laugh. " She was 
 a worshipper at your shrine, Dan," she said. " Do 
 you know what she has said to me over and over 
 till it was almost like a prophecy?" She paused, 
 then whispered softly, '''Ah, if you ever know 
 Danny Randall, child,' she told me, ' you will love 
 him.' " 
 
 She looked up with her face all pink once more
 
 What Couldn't be Helped 323 
 
 with her boldness ; but I laughed again. " And that 
 is why ? " I asked. 
 
 " Perhaps," she answered. 
 
 I can spend my life telling the whys of my love 
 to her, and I shall not detail what more is said to 
 me by her sweet lips the dear, tender red lips that 
 I once bruised by chance so cruelly ! 
 
 No, chance doesn't do things by halves! Oh, 
 lucky, lucky little ball of snow! 
 
 THE END
 
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