TASSEL OLIVIA SMITH CORNELIUS .OE CALIE., LIBRABY, LOS AHGELES THE PERSIAN TASSEL First published in January, liia BY OLIVIA SMITH CORNELIUS NEW YORK THE NEALE PUBLISHING COMPANY 1914 Copyright, 1914, by THE NEALE PUBLISHING COMPANY CONTENTS CHAPTER PAGE I PRINCIPALLY CONCERNING MYSELF ... 5 II WANTED: A STORY 18 III A SEQUEL TO THE QUEER ADVERTISEMENT . 35 IV A MURDER 45 V I MEET THE DOCTOR'S DAUGHTER ... 58 VI SUSPICION 68 VII THE RED TOUPEE 85 VIII A LOVERS' RENDEZVOUS 99 IX A MATE TO THE PERSIAN TASSEL . . . 107 X GONE 122 XI PURSUIT 135 XII A LETTER . J 151 XIII ADDED COMPLICATIONS 171 XIV DOUBTS AND WORRIES 184 XV A SERIES OF SURPRISES 201 XVI EXPLANATIONS 211 XVII DOUGLAS WHITE 227 21 28731 THE PERSIAN TASSEL CHAPTER I PRINCIPALLY CONCERNING MYSELF r II HE key-note to my character is altruism. A I tell you this at the beginning so that you will not credit me with a soft spot at the apex of my cranium. The sum total of ad- venture in my life covered a period of two weeks, which, subtracted from my age at the present time, leaves a balance of thirty-eight years, one month, and twenty-six days of am- bitionless and loveless wanderings. Shortly after my graduation from college I was persuaded by my uncle, who was my sole relative and guardian, to take up the study of medicine. A few years of medical training sufficed to convince me that I had made a seri- ous mistake, and that my true vocation was not medicine but literature. When informed of my decision my uncle exhibited keen disap- pointment at what he termed my foolishness, and quite plainly intimated that he might dis- inherit me if I chose to disregard his 'wishes, which were that I should become an eminently 6 THE PERSIAN TASSEL renowned physician. His emphasis of the words "eminently renowned" is possibly what frightened me. At any rate I stormed and raved inwardly without avail at the tyranny of his re- quest; but since I was convinced that I could not change his mind there was no alternative but to change my own. The thought of his past liberality in the matter of expenditures while I had been in college was the only reason for any hesitancy whatever upon my part. I had never earned a dollar in my life, and, with- out my uncle's aid, had no practical means of support, unless I should follow a career en- tirely distasteful to me. This I could not con- template. From time to time I had written stories which I submitted to different maga- zines, and their prompt rejection was sufficient proof to me that money was not easily made in literature even by one whose talents were supreme. My uncle must have divined my thoughts as I said: "My dear Uncle, do not be de- ceived by my hesitancy. It is not that I fear to choose, nor that I am afraid to be thrown upon my own resources for support, nor that I fear the loss of your legacy to me. My mo- tive is entirely different, I assure you." THE PERSIAN TASSEL 7 "Speak up, boy; tell me your reason," he responded f alteringly, after he had scrutinized me closely as if secretly pleased at my manly poise, hitherto undiscovered. Had I not al- ways conducted myself timidly before him, of whose dominating personality I had even stood in awe, until now that an ultimatum was placed before me for the first time? I gathered courage for the ordeal and spoke as man to man. "I hesitate because I owe you so much, and am under obligations to you which I fear I can never repay." My voice shook with emo- tion, for I realized how kindly he had treated me since the death of my widowed mother twelve years before. I was twenty-five and he was sixty. For a dozen years I had usurped his time and his money, and now, after all his fatherly advice and guardianship, I had absolutely refused his first and only request. He had been a lenient guardian, giving freely of the small surplus that he could spare in an endeavor to give me the best possible education. I knew well that a physician's diploma would be an adequate means of progression, but medicine was not my calling. Why could I not prove to the old man that I was right? 8 THE PERSIAN TASSEL I stood humbly before him, just about to acknowledge my inferiority and ask his par- don, just about to renounce my determina- tion to become an author, when he said, "Clarke, my boy, you shall become a writer." I gazed at my uncle spellbound. Did I hear aright? Could this man of infinite ca- pacity see that I was a genius? Nothing short of absolute certainty of my talents for creative work could have changed his determination. I extended my hand in good fellowship, ut- tered incoherently my thanks, and asked how I could repay his condescension. "By writing something the public will buy and appreciate," he replied enthusiastically. "Your allowance continues, Clarke, and I ear- nestly hope that you will succeed." It is now thirteen years since this conversa- tion took place. I closed the door of my uncle's home that afternoon with a great en- thusiasm. A glorious warmth of vitality surged through me; I was a Goliath in strength and determination. I would make good; I would command attention from the public by sheer force of will. The magna- nimity of my uncle's character overwhelmed me and spurred me on. From a tiny spark the divine fire of creation leaped into a flame, THE PERSIAN TASSEL 9 only to be quenched by death itself. A nobil- ity of purpose, heretofore unknown, arose in my character, and while life has lasted no greater joy have I experienced than the real- ization that came to me that day as I walked hurriedly down the street toward my rooms in Washington Square. That night my uncle died. Heart failure was given as the cause. I will not go into the terrible depression his demise brought upon me. An infinite void opened and engulfed me. I was weighed down with sorrow and could not content my- self even with my chosen vocation, but wan- dered around seeking distraction. First to Europe, then to Asia, from one hemisphere to the other I went in search of peace, con- tent, and quietude. My uncle's legacy was not large, but it enabled me to travel some- what extensively, though not extravagantly. Eight years of wandering finally brought me back to New York, where I unexpectedly met an old college friend and renewed my ambition for creative work. Early one evening, about five years after I had returned to New York, I was walking down Broadway, which was exceptionally des- olate on this Sunday evening just before dark. 10 THE PERSIAN TASSEL I had been writing all day in my stuffy den and had resolved to take a little exercise be- fore retiring for the night. A call from be- hind me attracted my attention, and upon stopping and turning around abruptly I met Walt Bennett. "I have just been to your rooms," he said, coming toward me hurriedly. "It's a deu- cedly cold night for you to be out, Clarke. Are you hunting story material? If not, you should be." "Did it never occur to you, Walt Bennett, that material hunting may be what I am try- ing to avoid?" "Naturally," replied Bennett, in a banter- ing tone; "as an editor I am always looking for stories, as an author you are always avoiding them." He laughed cheerfully. "You are perverse, Clarke, the antithesis of the ob- vious. Be natural, man, even if it does hurt. Now look here," he continued, changing to a serious tone, "I want to talk to you, and Broadway is not the place for concentration. Let's go into a cafe, or back to your rooms. The latter is preferable." We turned abruptly and walked silently toward my apartments in Washington Square. Entering the room some ten minutes later, I THE PERSIAN TASSEL 11 threw my hat and coat upon the couch and sat down before the open grate, in which the wood fire sputtered and crackled, spreading its warmth and light throughout the darkened room. "Let's have a little light on the subject," said Bennett, as he walked across the room and turned the electric switch. "There, now; that's better," he continued, rubbing his hands together briskly; then he pulled a paper from his pocket and handed it to me to read, saying, "There is material, my boy, for an adventure serial." I glanced at the headlines. "A Thousand Dollars Stolen in Shetland Suburb," I read aloud. "Nothing original about that," was my comment as I handed the paper back to him. "It is a common-place occurrence; that kind of thing happens every day." "That's true, Clarke, too, but Well, to tell you the truth, the magazine is up against it, and you will have to help me out with a serial." "Help you out!" I cried dramatically. "Good heavens, Bennett, I've been doing noth- ing else for three years, in fact ever since I came back from abroad. I have written for your magazine just one hundred and sixty-five stories: love stories, horror stories, mystery 12 THE PERSIAN TASSEL stories, detective stories all the confounded trash I could think of and I've not received a cent in return. Understand, I do not be- grudge you this; but your tone irritates me nevertheless. I have worked day and night to keep you from going under and I'm becom- ing rather discouraged." "Clarke, you do not understand. You are not a business man, you are an author. Con- sequently you have never dealt in money." "Is that irony?" I asked. "Do not misunderstand me, Clarke. Here, I'll put the whole thing before you." "Don't! Don't!" I said quickly. "I have heard it over and over. The sum total is to the effect that if I don't write stories for your magazine it will fail, and you with it. It is deucedly complimentary if you look at it one way, but rather ironical when you look at it aright. Other editors do not take me so se- riously." I laughed heartily, noting my friend's sad countenance. "Now, Clarke, I told you to give me five years to make good and pay you a generous amount for your faithful contributions. I will do all I have said. The magazine is do- ing well; that is, I have sufficiently increased the subscriptions and advertising to hold my THE PERSIAN TASSEL 13 own with my competitors. But good fiction is hard to find. I must, as you know " "Too well," I interrupted flippantly. He paid no heed to my interruption, but went on at a high tension, alert and opti- mistic. Persuasiveness was always his long suit, altruism was mine, an excellent com- bination for the team of editor and author to work with. "I must, as you know," he repeated, "have five stories each issue. It is almost impossible to find five good ones out of the hundred or so submitted to us monthly. When I do find one suitable for publication the author usually refuses to accept magazine stock in payment. I cannot pay cash, so I must find authors who can not only write well, but who will accept my magazine stock in exchange for their work." "Yes, and you've watered it so often that I suppose you get soaking wet when you handle a certificate." The metaphor missed fire, for he gave no intimation that he had heard. "Clarke, you've got to help me out again. I must have an adventure serial of at least twenty thousand words. That will keep me running for six months in installments, you 14 THE PERSIAN TASSEL know. I can drop some of the short stories while the serial is being published. Six months of freedom from worry! Why, it would be heavenly!" "For you?" "Yes, for us both. You do not want me to fail, do you, Clarke?" "No," I drawled; "I don't want you to fail." Indeed, that was the most serious thing that could happen to me, I began thinking as I looked at my friend. Walt Bennett had been my best friend in college, and a deep affection had grown up between us which had not only continued during our college days but had survived the years of separation and associa- tion since. I respected him ; he was in my eyes the most honorable man I had ever met ; mor- ally and intellectually he was the superior of any of my other acquaintances. I had sacri- ficed my own ambitions by giving my full time and products for his use. He was a good- looking fellow, short of stature, rather thickly set, an athlete, with strong, broad shoulders, a kindly expression of optimism and good fel- lowship shining from his clear gray eyes. His face was in direct contrast to his physique. It was predominantly feminine ; a straightly chis- eled nose, very slightly Roman; a mouth of THE PERSIAN TASSEL 15 medium size but not firm nor hard, indeed a boyish immaturity was partly revealed by the curve of the mouth and the general contour of the face. Walt was a man who would never grow old; he bore lightly his forty-two years, which had held for him much hard work and many adversities. His life had been in many respects similar to my own. We were both orphans when we first met as medical students at the University. His father, Dr. Alfred Bennett, a retired prac- titioner, had placed his two children, Gene- vieve and Walter, in a private school near New York, and left for Europe. There he had established himself in Paris. A year later he married a beautiful Parisienne, and after- ward made Europe his home. Four years later he died, leaving the larger part of his fortune to his wife and baby. Walt and Vi received fifty thousand dollars, a part of which the former expended on his medical educa- tion; then giving up the idea of becoming a physician, he invested what remained of his legacy in a new enterprise, the Favorite Maga- zine. I swelled with sympathy as I mentally contemplated his many outward manifesta- tions of the good that was in him, and, know- ing fully his excellent qualities of heart, I 16 THE PERSIAN TASSEL responded in softened tones to his pleadings for help. "I would do anything for you, Walt; you should know that. But I'm written out at present, old man. I need a vacation to invig- orate my mind; it is stagnant. I can't think. My imagination refuses to work at all. I tried all afternoon, and you know my rule is never to write on Sundays. I simply wished to test my powers, and, as I surmised, I am done for. I can't think, much less write. You know the trouble with my stories has al- ways been a lack of verisimilitude and vitality, that lack in quality which no editor will tol- erate. You are the only one, so far, to pub- lish anything I have written. I cannot write from life, nor create real stories ; fanciful tales are all I can do. Now I am becoming so that I cannot even write that kind. I am sorry, Walt; but it is true too true." "That's just the reason I pounced upon that suburban robbery affair. There is reality for you. You can simply mold your plot from that. It should make a ripping good serial." "Why don't you try it yourself?" "Heavens, man! You know I can't write. Who ever heard of an editor who could? I failed years ago because of the same trouble THE PERSIAN TASSEL 17 you have, lack of verisimilitude. I can write facts, but fiction if I only could!" He sighed despondently. "Why, this is last week's paper," I said, run- ning my eyes over the account of the robbery again. "Yes, I thought of you the minute I read it ; placed it in my desk, and then forgot all about it until last night. I'll leave it with you. Study it out ; maybe it will bring you an inspi- ration. If not Well, I have only one hope," he declared, as he began preparing to depart. "What is that?" I asked anxiously. "That maybe I will come across a good story in to-morrow's mail. A whole bushel of material arrives on Mondays. If I can't find one good story in the assortment, for which the author will accept stock, I am ruined un- less you can yet save me." "I have been a life-saving station long enough," I replied unsympathetically. "I am thinking of resigning forever." "Never, Clarke, until the Favorite Maga- zine is a financial success." "I think possibly the denouement will come quicker if I resign at once." "Don't you dare," laughed Walt from the doorway. CHAPTER II WANTED: A STORY fTIHE following morning the telephone A rang while I was dressing. I an- swered it. "Come right over," called Ben- nett's voice; "I've got to see you." I could get nothing more from him. I asked him had anything dreadful happened, was he sick, or had the printer refused to issue the magazine. But no intelligent answer was forthcoming. I was to come at once. Dressing hurriedly, I put on my coat and hat and went to his office, with beating heart. Within fifteen minutes I was in his private of- fice, confronting him breathless and bewil- dered. He sat calmly at his desk while I stammered, "The trouble, man, what is it?" "Why, it's nothing really serious; it's only about a story. I've got to have a story." I fell exhausted into a chair, my hat tum- bling to the floor. "I could brain you without a qualm of conscience," I ejaculated. "Do you know I have had no breakfast, the ther- 18 THE PERSIAN TASSEL 19 mometer registers ten below zero, and I have rushed here without my overcoat, in a panic of fear, thinking something dreadful had hap- pened to you? And now you calmly ask me for a story! What is the game? Have you lost your reason?" "I am sorry, Clarke," he replied; "but I did not want to say over the 'phone that I wanted to discuss a story, for I feared you wouldn't show up. You see I know you too well. By fair or foul means I had to see you this morn- ing." "And here I am," I replied. "Say it all and be done." "Look at this pile of manuscript, over a hundred in all and only one I can use. It is a fifteen-hundred-word short story and the author wants a hundred dollars for it. The price is marked on the top. The story is a winner, the best mystery yarn I ever read, perfect in style and technique, but heavens! I couldn't pay half the price. Never heard of the author. A novice, I presume; but he'll not remain long unknown. If I could get that story at my price my magazine would be made but there's no use. I can offer him twenty dollars for it, but he'd never think of selling it for that sum." 20 THE PERSIAN TASSEL "What's the name?" I asked, indifferently; not really caring to know, but speaking just for the sake of keeping up the conversation. "Douglas White. He gives no address. It was left here this morning by a messenger who said he would call for a decision in a day or so." "Why didn't you ask the messenger his ad- dress?" I asked. "I had no reason then for being interested. It was afterward, when I had read the manu- script, that I wanted to kick myself for being so stupid. If I could get into communication with him but I'll have to wait; and in the meantime I must have a story." He glared at me, but I kept calm and said nothing. "Why don't you write your own story?" I inquired finally. "Try it, at least." "No ; it's impossible, Clarke. If I had some facts together, a plot of some sort, but it is impossible. I haven't the imagination." "Well, I can't help you," I said with de- cision. "I'm in no condition at present. I think I shall go away for a rest. When I re- turn we will talk the matter over." "It will be too late then," replied Bennett sorrowfully, as if all hope had died within him. "If I have a relapse of imaginative vigor I THE PERSIAN TASSEL 21 will let you know," I said as I arose to go; "but I'm afraid there is little hope." A stenographer brought in a letter and threw it upon Bennett's desk. He glanced at it carelessly, then took a paper knife, thrust it through the envelope, and opened it. "It is from Vi," he said, looking up at me. "Poor Vi, she's always thinking of me! Listen to this, Clarke: " 'Janet Negley is a wonderful girl. I know you will like her, Walt; she's just your sort. She likes bachelors; says they're so sensible, past the frivolous age. Just think, I have only known her two weeks, five days of which I have been visiting her, but it seems as if I had known her all my life. Now listen, Walt: Her father has some money which he wishes to use for a certain purpose. You may be able to get some of it for your magazine. There is a secret about it that I can't explain in a letter. Will tell you when I see you to-night. I was only invited for four days and I have already been here five; so don't fail to come for me to- night. '"Lovingly, Vi.' "Now, that's just my luck," continued Ben- nett, putting the letter on his desk. "I have an engagement to-night. It's the first social engagement I've had in thirty days, and here I must go after Vi and bring her home. I'll just have to cut my evening in two, and go out 22 THE PERSIAN TASSEL to Shetland about ten o'clock. Won't you go along, Clarke?" "No; I'm going to rest. I will retire early to-night. I have an occult presentiment that I am not well. I lack my usual ambition and elasticity." "By Jove!" exclaimed Bennett, thrusting his hand into his pocket and producing the pink note again, "I don't believe Vi gave the address. No, sir; she hasn't," he continued, slowly reading the letter before him. "Now, if that isn't characteristic of a woman, 'Come for me,' and then forget to give the address!" "It's Shetland Suburbs," I announced; "and her friend's name is Janet Negley. She won't be hard to find. Shetland has a small, a very small, population. You can inquire. Proba- bly the first person you meet will know enough to direct you to the residence." "Oh, I guess I'll find it all right. Sorry you won't join me, Clarke. I notice Vi says Miss Janet is wonderful, and Vi is a wonder- ful judge of looks. When Vi says 'wonder- ful' she means glorious, superb, beautiful, a combination of adjectives seriously disturbing to us bachelors. You may be sorry you didn't accompany me, Clarke. Won't you change your mind?" THE PERSIAN TASSEL 23 "No; the desire for adventure has flown. Even a beautiful woman cannot tempt me. I am a sick man, Walt." Indeed, a half hour later, as I sat in a Sixth Avenue cafe, munching dry toast and sipping a cup of coffee, I felt that my words to Ben- nett were true. I was a sick man. My head felt hot and it ached; a feeling of exhaustion pervaded me. A good bracing walk was what I needed; it might be the means of readjusting my tired nerves. The thought took such hold upon me that I hurriedly finished my breakfast and quickly left the restaurant. I walked vigorously for three hours, then turned toward my rooms. Entering, I threw myself exhausted upon the lounge. I must have slept soundly for about six hours. Upon awakening I glanced at my watch; it indicated the hour of five. I had had no luncheon; I was not hungry, but I felt faint and weak. Still I felt better than I had in the morning. The room was cold, and a shiver passed over me. The fire had died down and was barely flickering ; a few moments longer and it would be entirely out. I braced myself for the task in hand, arose, knelt before the grate, and worked for fifteen minutes to get a fire started. 24 THE PERSIAN TASSEL I was finally rewarded; a feeble blaze started, grew brighter, and slowly the heat came forth, making the room quite comfortable. I turned up the light, adjusted my clothes, removed my soiled collar and replaced it by a fresh one, brushed my hair, then pressed the button for my landlady. A knock came at the door and I opened it. "Mrs. Cross, I want you to send the boy out for a sandwich and a cup of coffee. I wish to eat in my room." "Yes, Mr. Powell; but that hardly seems sufficient," she remonstrated. "Can't I order you something more substantial?" "No, thank you, Mrs. Cross," I replied. "I am on a diet at present. Too much food and a lack of exercise I believe is the cause of my not feeling up to my usual self. So I am try- ing abstinence for a few days." "All right, Mr. Powell," she responded, turning and leaving the door. I sat in a rocking-chair before the grate, sipping my coffee which the boy had brought in a few minutes before. I wondered if it were possible that I could have a fever. I felt drowsy again; even the stimulating black cof- fee had no invigorating effects. I replaced THE PERSIAN TASSEL 25 the cup upon the tray, and reached for the evening paper. I glanced listlessly over the first sheet, then threw it down and rested my head against the back of the chair. I was still tired, and gradually all consciousness passed from me and I again slept. A loud knock at the door awoke me. "Come in," I called, yawning and stretching myself, and rising to a sitting posture. A boy entered the room. "Oh, the tray," I said. "There, boy, on the table." He quickly passed from the room and I glanced at the clock. It was after eight. "Well, really I have had enough sleep for one day," I meditated, again stretching out my hand for the paper. I felt a great deal better, and this time I read the news with interest. Two columns were about Roosevelt, a half column was about Taf t ; the other news was of the horror kind, murders, fires, suicides, deaths, and such mat- ters. Nothing very interesting had happened while I slept that afternoon. True, there had been a robbery, a fire, and a murder within the past eight hours ; but what does that amount to in New York? Casual happenings, scarcely of any interest to a modern author. I turned the pages slowly, reading obituary 26 THE PERSIAN TASSEL notices, advertisements, poetry, jokes, and near jokes. Finally I glanced down the per- sonal column and my eyes quickly caught a unique advertisement. I read it twice, placed the paper on my lap, gazed steadily into the fire, and meditated ; then again I picked up the paper and read over for the third time the strange advertisement. If anyone answering the description given below will call this evening at my home, I will show him how he can honestly make ten thousand dollars. Applicants must be not more than five feet and seven inches tall, broad, stocky, healthy, and strong. Call this evening at 1456 Rose Street, Shetland Suburbs, New York. "That certainly is an attractive ad.," I mused, thoughtfully. "Whoever inserted that ad. will be swarmed with applicants; half of New York will be there. It is probably some sort of trap, possibly a scoundrel's scheme to carry out his designing plans. It would not be safe to answer that ad. still, why not? The address is given as Rose Street, Shetland Suburbs. Surely a dishonorable plan would not be carried out at a man's private home. Shetland is a very small suburban town, where every one knows every one else, and a dubious undertaking would soon reach the ears of the inhabitants. It would make a decided differ- THE PERSIAN TASSEL 27 ence if it were some unknown address here in New York city." I was almost tempted to answer the adver- tisement. Bennett needed money for his mag- azine, and here was an opportunity for me to make some money and keep him going. How the ten thousand was to be earned was not mentioned. Very likely it was some intricate affair or the amount would not be so large. Even if I answered the advertisement and failed to earn the reward, I could at least get material for a mystery yarn for Bennett's magazine. I felt exhilarated ; I was no longer a sick man. The eight hours' sleep had re- freshed me, and I felt all my old-time energy and enthusiasm returning. I felt that some adventure of just this kind was exactly what I needed. I also had the satisfaction of be- lieving that if I became an applicant for the ten thousand and failed to get it, I would at any rate have learned something original which I could weave into imaginative material for my own purposes. The advertisement was an original and daring one, and I would not very likely be the sole applicant for the spoils. My decision was made quickly. Ten min- utes later I was on the street, walking briskly toward the subway. I decided that I would 28 THE PERSIAN TASSEL ride out to Harlem and drop in on Bennett, who, I recalled, was going out to Shetland that evening to bring his sister home. Alighting from the subway, I ascended the steps, crossed over the street, and walked sev- eral blocks toward the private boarding-house where Bennett and his sister Vi lived. I ap- proached a row of three-story houses, built of brown stone, and so much alike that it was im- possible to detect a difference except by look- ing at the number. It was a miserably cold night. The wind blew from the north with a bitter sting. The snow crunched under foot, and it was all I could do to keep my hands and ears warm. I thrust my hands into my pockets, stamped my feet vigorously to keep the circulation going, and walked forward at a lively pace until I stopped before a house I thought was Ben- nett's. It was dark, with the exception of one dim light in the hall, and I could not distin- guish the number above the doorway; but I knew that it was one or the other of the two houses before me, for Bennett lived just in the middle of the block. Hesitating no longer, I mounted the steps quickly and rang the bell. An elderly woman answered my ring, after a wait of five minutes, THE PERSIAN TASSEL 29 during which I felt that my very blood would freeze within me. "Is Mr. Bennett at home?" I asked, rubbing my hands together and stamping my feet in an endeavor to keep warm. "No," was the curt response. "Mr. Ben- nett is out." She quickly closed the door in my face. "A polite landlady," I muttered. "Didn't even have the graciousness to ask me in to get warm. Bennett must be easily pleased. I wouldn't tolerate her a minute." I descended the steps and walked back toward the subway, when it came to me in a flash that Bennett had said he had to keep an engagement before he could go to Shetland. What a fool I had been not to have remem- bered sooner ! Well, that should not stop me ; I would go to Shetland, regardless of the cir- cumstances. I pulled out my watch as I came up to the corner light and saw that it was eight- thirty. It was not too late to go to Shetland; I could reach there about nine o'clock. A few minutes later I was seated in a Cen- tral train. The only other occupant of the car was a man whose profile I could barely see as he glanced from time to time through the window; but I noted that his hair was red. 30 THE PERSIAN TASSEL Pulling the newspaper from my pocket, I again read the advertisement, took out my notebook, and scribbled the address of the house in Shetland. I smiled to myself as I wondered what Ben- nett would say if he knew I was hunting ma- terial. At least he would be glad of my re- turning enthusiasm, even if my quest proved uneventful and disappointing. The thought of the money was what spurred me on. I wanted it for Bennett, not for myself; I had long ceased to care for the material things of life. My eight years of wanderings had satiated me with material pleasure that only money can buy. I cared for but one thing on earth, writing. It was my only source of happiness. The keen enjoyment with which I worked at my creations excelled infinitely any other en- joyment I had ever known. I allowed Ben- nett to use my work for his magazine without charge. I lived to write, not to sell or dispose of my work. This would have all been dif- ferent had my uncle lived and given me the in- centive of ambition and pride that my char- acter so lacked. I had sufficient money for my personal needs, and there was nothing more that I wished for. THE PERSIAN TASSEL 31 I was meditating upon my life, past and present, not the future; I had never worried about that, when the conductor called out Shetland Station. I rose quickly and left the car. The station, a small frame building, was apparently in the uncivilized wilds; at least not a house was to be seen. No vehicle was in sight, so I decided to set out on foot for the town, which seemed to be about a half-mile dis- tant, to judge from a few small lights that could be seen twinkling in the distance. I had some difficulty in finding the right house. After a long walk I finally reached the heart of the town. The residential sec- tion was built upon the segment of a circle, from which a half dozen streets radiated to the little station I had left. I found Rose Street at last, and walked up the narrow thoroughfare until I came to the number I was hunting. The house was a frame building, the least pretentious one in the immediate surroundings, with two stories, the upper one rather low, set with a slanting, shingled roof. On one side of the house was a long vacant lot. A room of unusual length lay on that side of the build- ing, extending some distance to the rear of the main structure. I observed its exterior es- 32 THE PERSIAN TASSEL pecially as I approached, the elongated side attracting my attention first. A doctor's sign hung upon the porch ; evidently the long room was his office. Dr. Talmar was the name. I noticed two doors, one opening on to the porch, the other toward the vacant lot. A light shone through the glass door, on which was inscribed : DR. TALMAR, OFFICE HOURS, 3 TO 4 I rang the bell with hesitation. The door was immediately opened, and a young girl stood before me. A more beautiful woman I had never seen. I lost my poise somewhat, and stammered awkwardly, "I am an an ap- plicant of for the advertisement in to- night's paper." Just then, as I stood with one foot upon the step, a man with red hair stood for a moment in the light, looked at me inquiringly, then passed by me and out into the night. I had never seen any man resemble Walt Bennett as that man did. But for the red hair, I would have sworn that it was he. I entered the room in a daze. There were six men in this waiting-room, sitting around carelessly. Two were reading magazines; the others scrutinized me impolitely. The young THE PERSIAN TASSEL 33 girl had left. I sat, hat in hand, in a maze of indefinable impressions. The room was square, and of ordinary office size. The house was an old one and had evidently been recently remodeled. It had a center hall; the room in which we sat must have been originally in- tended for a library, but had been turned into an office. Through glass doors I could see a music room or parlor. The door opened, and the young girl ap- peared again. She spoke to one of the men. They talked in a low tone, but I could hear sufficiently well to understand that the doctor would not see him, he did not comply with the description given in the advertisement. Three other applicants were dismissed in the same manner. They reluctantly left, mut- tering incoherently. Then the young girl beckoned to me to proceed into the doctor's office. I was not afraid; all hesitancy had left me, and I boldly thought to myself that I would gladly follow her anywhere she would lead. Love at first sight is supposed, by most learned men, to be a myth, and I myself had always scoffed at the idea. Indeed, I had gradually persuaded my- self that there was no such thing as love, that an affection of the kind was usually an hallu- 34 THE PERSIAN TASSEL cination indulged in either by very young, im- mature minds, or by very old, senile ones. Yet one glance at this frail girl had shattered all my thirty-five years' thought upon the sub- ject, and I followed her into the office, with a beating heart and with a sense of delight that my writing had never yet produced. She closed the door after me. CHAPTER III A SEQUEL TO THE QUEER ADVERTISEMENT A MOMENT later I stood face to face with Doctor Talmar. He was an old man, at least seventy years old. His white hair, worn long at the back and sides, had become very thin on top. His face, too, was long and thin, while deep crevices in the cheeks made its contour seem much more narrow than it really was. A large Ro- man nose with distended nostrils; a mouth of goodly proportions, yet so sunken and drawn at the corners that its shape was grotesque, and large bulging eyes of a deep black gave the face an expression of occult power, hypnotic in the extreme. A weird, un- holy gleam of mystery held me spellbound. The man's shrunken figure and bent shoulders were the least striking part of his personality. I became not exactly frightened, for I am not a coward, but sorry that I had presumed to compete with this strange and unseemly being. In an instant my reticence had passed. 35 36 THE PERSIAN TASSEL Doctor Talmar spoke, and his voice carried the sound of the most kindly reassurance. "Well, sir, you are an applicant for the ten thousand dollars, I assume." "Yes, sir," I answered, quickly; "pro- vided- The doctor interrupted me by saying with decision: "You are the man I want and the only one out of the twelve applicants to whom I will even tell my story and that without inquiring your name. You are honest and healthy, I suppose; and your age, about thirty?" ' Thirty-five," I corrected. "Good. Then, Mr." "Powell," I stammered, with some hesita- tion. My first thought had been to give an assumed name; then, deciding that the ad- venture could harm me in no way, it seemed unnecessary to prevaricate. "You are in great need of money, I as- sume, or you would not be here." I nodded assent. "Well," continued the doctor, " are you will- ing to do anything I say, anything honor- able, you understand, for the sum of ten thousand dollars, even if my proposal involves the question of tife or death?" THE PERSIAN TASSEL 37 He had become perceptibly excited; his hands shook and his voice vibrated so that the last words were spoken in a whisper. I was actually alarmed, not by what he had said so much as by his manner of saying it. I scarcely knew what to reply. "Dr. Talmar, your question is so entirely hypothetical," I managed to say, at length, "and, in fact, so startles me that I cannot an- swer until I know just exactly what you pro- pose. I cannot say what I will or will not do until you have put your proposition before me." The doctor arose from his chair, walked to the door and locked it; then came back, and sat facing me. Every vestige of emotion had left his face; he was now calm, although a grayish color covered his features and his lips were of an ashy hue. "My dear sir, it is a long story, and I will cut out all technical terms which you would not understand, and will be as brief as pos- sible. Two other doctors and I have been working on the problem for twenty-five years, and we feel now that we have demonstrated it as far as it is possible with what we have had to work with. It is this that we have dis- covered, that the head of one man may be 38 THE PERSIAN TASSEL placed upon another's body and both men live. This has been proved by experimenting upon animals, and whatever can be done along surgical lines with animals can be done even more successfully with men. We have taken two sound, healthy dogs, put them under the influence of an anesthetic, then cut their heads off and transplaced them upon the two bodies. The dogs lived a short time, until they came from under the influence of the anesthetic; then, of course, not being human, having no in- tellect, naturally they could not be kept from moving. This broke the stitches and caused their instant death. Now a human being would act differently, knowing that his life depended upon just one thing, absolute re- pose. This would require several weeks, un- til the veins and arteries knit ; then the danger would be over." My face must have worn an expression of mingled horror and surprise as I listened with intense excitement to the doctor's story. Sev- eral times I opened my mouth to speak, but each time refrained, afraid even to question the man. "Now, Powell," the doctor continued breathlessly, "I want your body for my head. I am willing to try this experiment upon my- THE PERSIAN TASSEL 39 self, for I know it will be a success. I am old of course, seventy years old, but then I am in good health and it is possible I may live twenty years longer, or even more. So, you see, if I am willing to risk this operation you should not hesitate. The other doctors of whom I have spoken will perform the op- eration, and I will guarantee it to be a suc- cess, young man, a perfect success. Your head will be put upon my body, and you will then have quite a few years to enjoy life and the luxuries the ten thousand dollars will bring. The young, good blood in your body will erase these wrinkles in my face. My hair will turn back to its natural color and I will live again as a young man of thirty-five. I don't care to go into it any deeper, for you would not understand; but now you have an idea of what I want of you." I had listened intently to every word he had said. My feeling of horror and fear had fled as I gazed unflinchingly into the doctor's face as his story progressed. A feeling of in- finite pity swelled my heart for the poor man before me, who was suffering, I felt, from a mental failing not hard to define. I had no fear of the man; he was harmless in his fanci- ful delusion. My trouble arose from the idea 40 THE PERSIAN TASSEL that I must hurt him cruelly in refusing his proposition; for, of course, there was no al- ternative. "If the operation proves successful," con- tinued the doctor, in a hardly audible tone, "it means to me a lease of life for many years, ambition gratified, the greatest satisfaction in the world. And it cannot fail. I will be a wonder, a living curiosity. It will mark the beginning of one of the greatest advances the world has ever known, that is, life continued. It means a world without end. You follow me?" "Yes, sir; but I don't care to hear any more," I answered abruptly. I realized that I was in a situation from which it might not be easy to extricate myself. I had decided that the doctor was demented, and that to terminate the conversation with an abrupt refusal to comply with his proposi- tion would not be an expedient course to pur- sue. I would have to be lenient with him, handling him and his story with diplomacy. My one obsession was to get away; but how this was to be accomplished with a minimum hurt to the old man's pride was a problem. The whole conversation had lasted barely fif- teen minutes; yet it seemed hours since I had THE PERSIAN TASSEL 41 first entered the office. My mind worked rap- idly as I reached for my hat on the chair be- side me. "Dr. Talmar," I said gently but firmly, "I cannot accept your proposition. I am sorry, but" The old man arose from his chair, into which he had fallen, nearly exhausted, after his strenuous talk. "You will not accept!" he interrupted, in a loud, tense voice. It was the first time he had spoken angrily, and I could see he was losing his equilibrium. "Not accept My God! I have told you my whole secret. I am utterly ruined!" he wailed in a broken voice; then dropped trembling into his chair. "Dr. Talmar," I answered, reassuringly, "your secret is perfectly safe with me, and I think I can even help you." At my words his hand dropped from his face and he looked at me closely. "Help me how?" he asked, quickly. "Now, listen. I will keep your secret. You need have no fear on that score. I will also try to find some one conforming to your requirements who will accept your proposi- tion." "You will help me! You will help me!" 42 THE PERSIAN TASSEL he cried, his voice rising higher and higher, vi- brating with intense emotion. "Then I am not ruined as I feared," he continued, as he rose and walked toward me. "No," I answered, seriously. "I will call upon you again in a day or two and acquaint you with what success I have had in finding a man of your description who will serve you." I had turned to the door as I was talking, but the doctor placed a detaining hand upon my arm and said: "Wait, wait." He opened a drawer, and with trembling fingers drew out a roll of bills and held them before my eyes. "Here are ten thousand dollars in good bank notes," he said; "and all your own, if you will accept them. Do they not tempt you?" He had removed the rubber band from the roll and was counting the bills excitedly. I stood facing him, gazing at his white bowed head and shrunken form, which appeared un- canny in the dim illumination of the room. He was mumbling to himself as he counted the money; and suddenly I realized that a third person was watching us. A man's face was glued to the window opposite me. The win- dow was partly raised and the draperies swung lightly in the breeze. The face was that of THE PERSIAN TASSEL 43 the red-headed man I had seen coming from the doctor's office just as I had entered. But even as I looked the face vanished. Was it possible that I too was having halluci- nations? had I really seen anything? I was now becoming greatly agitated; far more so than I had been throughout the doctor's hor- rible story. I must leave and at once, I thought, before I showed my emotion, for the doctor must not know that some one else had overheard the conversation. I had ac- tually begun to have a liking for the old man, despite my belief in his mental infirmity. "No, Dr. Talmar, that money does not tempt me," I finally responded, after I had again regained my poise. "I must be going and I will call upon you again in a day or so, as I have already agreed." The doctor glanced at me, then stretched out his thin, bony hand and bade me good-by. "I will see you to the door," he said. "My daughter has company, and has probably left her post for the night." So the beautiful girl I had seen as I entered was the daughter of this man. A horrible thought and one that made me shudder. The waiting-room was empty; evidently the other men had been dismissed or had become tired 44 THE PERSIAN TASSEL of waiting. I glanced toward the glass fold- ing-doors as I entered the room, in the secret hope that I might again get a glimpse of the young maid whose girlish beauty had so im- pressed me. There was a white form in the room opposite, and I walked over nearer the door, beside which stood a cooler. Feigning thirst, I drew a glass of water and placed it to my lips while my eyes gazed searchingly into the parlor beyond. Seated on a couch facing me was Walt Ben- nett, in a rocker at his side was Vi Bennett, and at the piano sat the doctor's daughter. I gazed spellbound, as if in a mystic dream, while Bennett's eyes met mine unflinchingly. I was sure that we had recognized each other simultaneously. I turned abruptly and hur- ried from the house. CHAPTER IV A MUBDER NEVER in all my life have I felt so like a sneak as I did that night while walking hurriedly down Rose Street. My mind was alert, keen to the realization of the situation; but I was greatly perturbed. Was I not surrounded with mystery? My mind took to it naturally, but I was in a perverse mood, at once worried and hopeful. There was one thought that seemed to pre- dominate : my friend was this moment with the doctor's daughter. He knew her personally, and I did not. Then a question came to my mind, who was the doctor's daughter? Could it be the girl Vi was visiting, the won- derful Janet Negley? I began to believe it was, for was not Bennett to call for Vi at Shetland that night? It was a strange coin- cidence. I had set out in quest of information and had certainly received it tenfold, for with the doc- tor's story I had lost hope of getting the ten thousand for Bennett's magazine, but I had 45 46 THE PERSIAN TASSEL accumulated a wonderful amount of material for an adventure story. I was positive Janet Negley and the doctor's daughter were the same, and that she was in reality his stepdaugh- ter. I could easily find out all about her from Bennett. But suppose Bennett had not recognized me through the doorway as I had assumed ; in that case it would be better to keep my secret, and later surprise him with the serial that I meant to write. I would then have the satisfaction of surprising him completely. I could get Vi to introduce me to Janet Negley, without tell- ing my adventure to Bennett. I decided that that was the better plan, so I thrust the mat- ter from me and resumed my perplexing thoughts concerning the doctor and his daugh- ter. The doctor, I felt, was insane, but with a harmless species of malady, possibly due to advanced age and overwork. There was no danger of his carrying out his rejuvenating scheme, for there was no one who would be likely to submit to the operation. Then a feeling of exhilaration stole over me as my thoughts turned to the doctor's daughter. Her sweet girlish form and seduc- tive voice haunted me. I blushed at the recol- THE PERSIAN TASSEL 47 lection of being in her presence. I had known but few women in my life, and none had ever stirred me as had this slip of a girl with simply a glance. I was a skeptical old bachelor, hermit-like in my desires, caring neither for society nor friends, with the excep- tion of those few who had come into my life before my character had become fixed. I was a student and a scholar, absorbed in intellectual pursuits, caring not for pleasure nor pain just so long as it did not interfere with my studious mode of living. I was in love, unquestionably, and at first sight. It is strange how the perplexities and mys- teries of life unfold themselves, giving the un- believer glimpses of light now and then, sim- ply to unbalance his own dogmatic theories and give him less self-assurance and egotism. I had not believed in love simply because I was so material that I could grasp only that which I myself knew and felt. A moment of light had opened the portals, and I glimpsed, as in a beautiful transfiguration, my final awaken- ing. I reached the station just as a train pulled in. "New York?" I asked the porter, as he placed a stool before the steps of the car. 48 THE PERSIAN TASSEL "Yes, suh," he replied. "Step right in, suh." I was the only passenger from Shetland. Arriving at my rooms an hour later, I sat down and mapped out a chart of my story; then I wrote as rapidly as possible the tale I have told you. I told every detail, from Bennett's request for a serial to the queer ad- vertisement and its sequel. I finished page after page of what seemed to me the best fic- tion I had ever written. I rose to heights im- possible to describe in the revelation of the love-light that had just entered my soul. I pictured my beautiful maid in wonderful words, a wave of warmth enveloping me as I wrote. At four o'clock in the morning I threw aside my pen with the satisfaction that I had completed the first installment of the best adventure story I had ever written. I fell exhausted upon the lounge and slept soundly. At ten o'clock I awoke. I would have slept on indefinitely had I not been startled by a loud knock at my door. I arose to my feet in a daze of bewilderment. I had slept in my clothes ; even my collar was bent and wilted. I must have presented a forlorn appearance as I opened the door. It was the maid who wanted to straighten up the room. I told her THE PERSIAN TASSEL 49 to return in half an hour ; and then I proceeded to change my clothes and to make myself pre- sentable for breakfast. The room was in great disorder. My coat was flung over the arm of a chair, my hat lay on the floor. Scattered about were sheets of paper that brought me back to my thoughts of that previous night. It took me ten min- utes or more to arrange the jumble properly. I stopped several times during my toilet to read or reread my creations on paper, but the gnawings of hunger made me hurry, and I re- luctantly put the sheets in a drawer, which I locked. Ten minutes later I was sitting in a cafe. Having given my order to the waiter, I sat back comfortably in my chair and surveyed the other occupants of the room. A large fel- low, with big thick hands, sat opposite me at the next table. He was reading the morning paper, spread wide before him, his two chubby hands holding each side and his head buried in the center. I read in large black type a sentence that made me sit up in astonishment. I secured a paper and again read: "DR. TALMAR FOUND MURDERED IN HIS HOME IN SHETLAND" 50 THE PERSIAN TASSEL My hands trembled so that I could hardly read the small print that followed. "At eight o'clock this morning word was received by the police that Dr. Talmar had been murdered and robbed of $10,000 in notes and some jewelry belonging to his stepdaughter. The house was set afire after the crime had been committed. A colored maid rang in the alarm at seven o'clock this morning. Upon the arrival of the fire department the blaze was extinguished and Dr. Talmar was found dead in his study, stabbed to the heart. The knife lay on the floor at his side. "Upon further investigation it was discovered that the money Dr. Talmar kept in a drawer in his study and some jewelry belonging to Miss Janet Negley, his step- daughter, had been taken. An immediate call for the police followed. Sergeant Holmes has made an investi- gation, confirming the theft. Cowen, Phillips, and other officials pronounce the death of Dr. Talmar a murder. No clue can be found concerning the identity of the criminal. The entire police force has been put upon the case and every means at hand will be made to dis- cover the guilty party. "The doctor's daughter can give no reason for the murder other than robbery. She and her stepfather retired about midnight, but she says he frequently could not sleep and would get up and dress and go down to his study where he would stay until morning. "The case is a grave one and every effort will be made to find the guilty man. Miss Negley is prostrated at the death of her stepfather. She was taken to the home of her friend, Miss Vi Bennett, in the city, who reports her as still under a physician's care, but doing THE PERSIAN TASSEL 51 nicely. It would seem that the doctor himself had no intimate friends, as his body was taken to the morgue." I finished the article, then I bowed my head in my hands. I could hardly have felt worse had it been my own father of whom I had been reading. Of course this is a singular asser- tion, but when I say that I could not remember my own father's death, which occurred during my early childhood, it will not seem so exag- gerated a statement. Though I felt keenly the death of Dr. Talmar in view of the man- ner of his death, my real source of anxiety was the deep sorrow which had overtaken and might crush his daughter. It seemed that Janet Negley and all that interested her were of the most vital and intense interest to me. I cannot describe the strange feeling that pervaded my whole being and forewarned me that the results of Dr. Talmar's death would make a change in my future. I had always had an inclination toward the psychic, an inclination that was constantly battling for supremacy. Once, while I was sojourning in India, I had met a Hindoo mystic of great fame who had discovered my hidden power, and had asked to instruct me in mysticism. Under his tutelage, I became a student of oc- 52 THE PERSIAN TASSEL cult science, and in the course of a year or so was an adept in mystic lore. Never from that day to this have I felt this inexplicable sixth sense more fully aroused than when I read of the murder of Dr. Talmar. I ate a hurried breakfast, and left the res- taurant with the newspaper in my hand. Hailing a taxicab, I jumped in and drove to Bennett's office. It was eleven o'clock. I found Bennett in his private room absorbed in writing, while a man stood before his desk talk- ing in a somewhat anxious tone. Bennett did not look up as I entered but went on writing, paying no attention to my entrance or to the man, who persistently talked. Finally he threw down his pen and wheeled around in his chair. "Hello, Powell," he said. Then, turning to the stranger opposite, he said emphatically: "I tell you I don't know anything about him. His manner of procedure is certainly myste- rious. He sent the manuscript by a messenger ten days ago, giving no address but saying he would call for my decision in two days. He asked a hundred dollars for the story. He certainly had his nerve with him. Why, two weeks is a short time for a decision in any event. I don't know anything about him, and THE PERSIAN TASSEL 53 I am very busy at present. I must talk to Mr. Powell here. Will see you again." Bennett turned toward me, as if dismissing the man; but he was not so easily disposed of. "But, Mr. Bennett, your story doesn't hang together well," persisted the stranger. "Here you say you received a note from Douglas White early this morning, saying he had re- considered his former offer and would give you the manuscript gratis. The whole story sounds faked. 'Fess up ; who is he and where does he live?" "Go and ask Frost; he published one of his stories in their magazine last week." "I've been to see him. He knows nothing; gave me the same dope about sending manu- script by messenger and giving no address. I want one of Douglas White's stories; they're fine and would make our magazine. If I could get into communication with him in some way I'd offer him any price." "He certainly can write, and he is certainly a novice," replied Bennett. "Who ever heard of an author's sending manuscripts around by a messenger, asking a certain price for the story, and refusing to give any information whatever as to where or how to communicate with him?" 54 THE PERSIAN TASSEL "A mysterious proceeding, surely. Let's see his note saying you could have his story for nothing. That alone is mysterious," said the stranger. "The note tells nothing. I've torn up or misplaced it," said Bennett, shuffling over the mail on his desk. "At any rate it was typed." "Poor business taste, to say the least," I in- terrupted, for the first time. Then I con- tinued, addressing the stranger: "Cut out your problem. I'm in a hurry and want to talk to Bennett," "Well," he remarked, laughing as he turned away, "I guess I can get no information here." As he closed the door upon us I thrust my paper containing the account of Dr. Talmar's death upon Bennett's desk, saying, "What do you think about that?" The expression of his face changed at once, and he swung around in his chair, looking at me steadily. "It is horrible, isn't it?" he asked quietly. "But why this unusual interest, Powell? Things like that happen every day." "Yes ; but not to one's acquaintances," I an- swered. "The papers say that the doctor's daughter is a friend of Vi's, and that she is now at your home under Vi's care. Naturally I would take some interest, don't you think?" THE PERSIAN TASSEL 55 Bennett's manner was not natural. But why? Why had he said, "Things like that happen every day," when under the circum- stances it would have been natural for him to show more than a passing interest? His re- mark had given me the impression that he wished to mislead me. His actions were strange; but I threw aside my weird misgiv- ings and questioned him frankly. "Have you been out to the house to see the girl? And is she seriously ill? You went out for Vi last night, didn't you, and of course met this wonderful Miss Negley?" "Oh, yes yes," stammered Bennett, awk- wardly. "She is a charming girl, and her stepfather's death is a serious blow to her. I was at the house a little over an hour ago. She is doing nicely, the doctors say. She is labor- ing under a nervous shock, but will gradually improve. Vi is devoted to her, you know, and will take good care of her." The conversation seemed to irritate him, al- though he tried to hide it by seemingly feigned interest in the short, abrupt bits of information he was giving me. I was perplexed. I had known Bennett so long that we had seemed like brothers; yet a change seemed to have taken place overnight. 56 THE PERSIAN TASSEL This I felt, but had no real cause for believing it true. I tried to account to myself for his manner. Many things might be taking up his mind and attention so that my questions were unwelcome. He might have become the con- fidant of Janet Negley herself, and therefore did not wish to talk on the subject of the mur- der of Dr. Talmar. "Have you heard no details as to any pos- sible motive regarding the doctor's death?" I queried, shifting my position nervously. "No; none at all," he responded. "I have not talked with Miss Negley about her father. Naturally it is a very painful subject at pres- ent, and the doctor says she must not be ques- tioned at all. You can go out and see Vi," he said, turning toward his desk and taking up his pen. The fact that Bennett did not wish to con- tinue the conversation was plain enough. For the first time in our years of friendship I began to feel that we were nothing more to each other than mere acquaintances. Something had broken the thread of confidence, and a mere formal friendliness remained. "Yes, I'll drop out and see Vi," I said, as I arose from my chair. "You are busy, so I will not detain you longer." THE PERSIAN TASSEL 57 Genevieve Bennett was tall, slender, and well-proportioned, looking not unlike her brother in general features. Her hair was brown, of a coarse, wavy texture, and her eyes were bluish-gray, an unusually good-looking woman, I thought again for the hundredth time as I looked into her sympathetic face. Natur- ally calm and sedate, she seemed strangely ex- cited as she shook my hand nervously. "Vi," I explained, "I came out to see if I could be of any help. I read about it in the papers." "Oh, isn't it dreadful, Clarke? And poor Janet is suffering so. You haven't met her, Clarke; but she is a dear and I am just wrapped up in her." I said nothing about my having seen Janet Negley the night before. I decided that things were sufficiently complicated as they were. Would it not excite needless suspicion if I told of my visit to the doctor in answer to his strange advertisement? I resolved that silence was golden and that, as I could prove nothing one way or the other, it would be wiser to keep my secret. I could do this success- fully, provided Janet Negley did not recog- nize me as one of the applicants for the ten thousand dollars. CHAPTER V I MEET THE DOCTOR'S DAUGHTER UfTHELL me all about it, Vi," I said, JL as I pulled my chair up nearer hers. "I am very much interested, and maybe I can be of some help in unearthing the mystery. I was in a cafe eating my breakfast when I read the startling news. Upon discovering that the doctor's daugh- ter was your friend Miss Negley, of whom I had heard Walt speak, I immediately went to his office and made inquiry. But he was so busy that he could not give me much information. He asked me to come out and see you." "I have not heard the details in full, Clarke, for Janet is in such an over-wrought condition that I have avoided the subject as much as possible. The doctor insists that she must stay in bed, but I cannot get her to do so. She wanders about the house moaning and crying, and is very hysterical." "No wonder," I said. "She has had a ter- rible shock." 58 THE PERSIAN TASSEL 59 "A telephone message from Mammy Phyl- lis, the colored servant who had been with Dr. Talmar for twenty years, came this morn- ing about eight o'clock," continued Vi. "She told me of the tragedy and said that Janet wanted to come and stay with me, provided it was convenient. An hour later I met her at the station and brought her here in a taxicab. This is what I gather from what she has told me: "After Walt and I left the Talmar residence last night at ten-thirty Janet went straight to bed and slept soundly until about seven o'clock this morning, when she was aroused by a great commotion at the opposite side of the house. She had no intimation of what it was except that something unusual was happening. She arose and was partly dressed when Mammy Phyllis opened the front door and hurrying up the stairs called to her excitedly: 'Janet! Oh, Miss Janet! The house is on fire!' Janet called to her, 'Tell Father, Phyllis, quick.' Then Phyllis ran across to the doctor's room, but he was not there. " 'Go down to the study, Phyllis, quick!' said Janet. 'I am nearly dressed and will meet you in a moment.' " 'Hurry,' called Janet, as she ran down the 60 steps. 'It is Father's quarters that are on fire.' "The hall was filled with smoke. Upon opening the door into the doctor's private study a gust of smoke poured forth, but Phyllis could see three firemen hending over the body of Dr. Talmar, who lay apparently prostrated upon the floor. Just then Janet entered. They found that Dr. Talmar had not suc- cumbed to the smoke as they had thought, but had been killed, murdered by a knife-wound in the heart. "Janet fainted and Phyllis carried her into the parlor and laid her upon the couch. The firemen extinguished the flames, but not be- fore the back room, which was the doctor's work-room and laboratory, had been partly demolished. Upon further investigation Phyl- lis discovered that the murderer was also a thief, and that several rings, a bracelet, and a watch belonging to Janet were also gone. The police and the coroner were immediately called. Very soon after that Phyllis called me up by telephone. There's the whole story, Clarke; and isn't it dreadful?" "The paper spoke of ten thousand dollars being stolen also. Is that simply newspaper talk?" I put the question that way for fear THE PERSIAN TASSEL 61 of arousing Vi's suspicions as to my knowledge of the money, and in order not to show my surprise at her not mentioning the matter. It was strange that she had not done so. Yet, in her excitement, it was probably natural that she had forgotten some of the details of what had happened. Upon my mentioning the money her ex- pression changed. It was but a fleeting change; still I had seen it and was worried. When at last she did speak her words and man- ner were not reassuring. "Oh, yes, the money," she said nervously. "I had forgotten it. Phyllis discovered its loss." Vi turned toward the table where stood a vase of roses, and commenced to finger the flowers. Her hands were not steady and her face was perturbed ; she buried her face in the bouquet, then threw her head back as if in- haling the sweet aroma of the buds. "It's a horrible tale, Clarke," she said at length. "Don't let's talk of it any more. It's not a pleasant topic to dwell upon, and all our talking can do no good." "You are right, Vi. I will not worry you about it again." I arose and extended my hand. "Vi, you are a friend worth having, 62 THE PERSIAN TASSEL and Miss Negley will have good care with you as a nurse. When is the funeral of Dr. Tal- mar to take place?" "At three o'clock to-morrow, from here. You will come, Clarke? The four of us can go in one carriage. There should be two men to go with Janet and me. Walt has made all arrangements for the funeral." "Yes, I will come," I said, as I turned to leave the room. And at that moment standing in the door- way facing me was Janet Negley. The deep mourning of her dress brought out in a start- ling contrast the milky whiteness of her skin and the flaxen color of her silky hair, while the black seemed to deepen the tone of her large, wistful brown eyes with their drooping lids. She was but of medium height, lithe and sin- uous, and far more beautiful than I had thought. Releasing the portieres, which she had been holding parted, she entered the room. "Janet," said Vi, going to her side hurriedly, "you shouldn't have come downstairs, but now that you are here I want to introduce you to Mr. Powell, who is Walt's very best friend, and mine, too." A sweet smile met mine and a small hand THE PERSIAN TASSEL 63 was extended timidly. As I held it I felt a sudden desire to take the girl in my arms to crush her to my heart. Stupidly I stood, holding that hand, saying nothing. Vi dis- cerned my embarrassment and came to my rescue. "Janet," she said, "Mr. Powell is a life- long friend of ours, and wishes to be of help to you in your trouble. So I shall leave you to talk to him while I fix you some broth." With that Vi left the room. Immediately my confidence returned, and I talked easily and naturally upon the subject that I saw Janet wished to discuss. It gave me confidence to think that she was willing to discuss her sorrow with me, who had been a total stranger until a few moments ago. But the feeling was entirely shattered when she asked abruptly: "Mr. Powell, why did you answer my father's advertisement?" Her manner was sweet and alluring, de- spite the sadness of her countenance. "The moment I saw you just now I knew you were one of the men who called upon father last evening." I had to tell her the truth ; it was inevitable. To have lied then would have been a fearful 64 THE PERSIAN TASSEL obstacle in the future; for already I had be- gun to plan a future of which Janet Negley should always be a part. So I told her the whole story, omitting nothing, explaining my desire to get material for a story so as to help Vi's brother with his magazine. "I was so afraid naturally I was sus- picious of any one who called upon father last night," she said brokenly, when I had finished my story. "You forgive me my doubts?" Forgive her? I could have laughed aloud in my glee. Why, I would have forgiven her had she thought I had actually murdered her father. "Miss Negley," I said, aloud, "of course you would be suspicious. The circumstances war- rant it, and I have nothing to forgive." She smiled sweetly and extended her hand. "We will be friends, Mr. Powell, I feel sure, ... Of course, you know that Dr. Tal- mar was only my stepfather." I admitted that I did. "So, of course, my grief is not so great as if he had been my own father. I cared for him; he was a good, generous man; but he had been a great trouble to me for many years. He had given up his practice after THE PERSIAN TASSEL 65 saving the sum of ten thousand dollars, for which he had striven many years. He was ob- sessed with one thought, an experiment which he desired to make, and he had accumulated this money for that purpose. I have .known for over a year of his mental trouble, and have feared for the consequences of his mania, but I found that I could do nothing to prevent the carrying out of his plans. I could not sleep at night on account of the anxiety that his scheme for continuing life caused me. I had no living relative but him and very little money, only an income of about one hundred dollars a month that my mother left me at her death, fifteen years ago. This I used for household expenses and my clothes. Father had nothing but his ten thousand dollars, and he would not touch that. It may seem strange to you that I tell you all this, when we have just met, but, naturally, } r ou should hear my side of the story inasmuch as you have heard father's." Then, with a sudden burst of tears, she murmured, "Poor father!" An overwhelm- ing longing to help her took possession of me, a longing to pour out the sympathy that welled within me. However, this was no time 66 THE PERSIAN TASSEL for a declaration of love. Would there ever come a time, and could I wait? I had evi- dently lost my head completely. "I am sorry I have given way to my feel- ings, Mr. Powell," Janet continued when she had become somewhat calm. "You will par- don me; my nerves are unstrung. Father's manner of death is so horrible. He was so good and kind to me that I feel I will never recover from the shock." "Possibly you are doing yourself great in- jury in discussing it at all in your present state, Miss Negley; and " "No; I do not feel that way about it. Talking helps me. I should die if I could not talk to some one about it. Has Vi told you how we happened to discover the crime?" "Yes," I replied; "she has told me in detail just what happened. Did your father retire early, or did he spend the night in the study?" She hesitated before answering. "I I do not know. I did not see father after Vi and her brother left. I I did not feel very well was greatly worried over the consequences of father's advertisement and the many strange men who had applied that evening, so I retired immediately after Vi left and did not see father until the discovery of the crime." THJE PERSIAN TASSEL 67 Vi came into the room just then, so I did not continue the subject. "Here's some nice beef tea, dear," said Vi. "You must drink it while it is hot. It will help you; you look so worn and white. Doesn't she, Clarke?" The interrogation awoke me from my dream and I responded by nodding my head in as- sent. A few moments later I left the house. CHAPTER VI SUSPICION I ENTERED the grill room of a crowded cafe where the smoke was so thick that one could scarcely see the tables. The orches- tra was playing while a Spanish tenor sang. I could see no unoccupied place and was about to withdraw when the head waiter beckoned to me. This was not a place for reflection, I thought, as I made my way through the differ- ent aisles in a mad endeavor to follow my leader. I had eaten but little breakfast; in fact my diet had been very meager for several days and I was actually hungry, otherwise I should not have decided to remain in that dense, noisy room. The table adjoining that to which I was taken was already occupied by a man, whom I recognized at once to be the one who had as- sumed such a persistent manner in Bennett's office that morning. "Hello, there," said he. "Didn't I see you in Bennett's office this morning?" THE PERSIAN TASSEL 69 "Yes. Still looking for Douglas White?" I asked. "Yes, and I can find no trace. Downs' Publishing House issued a novel by him last week just found that out. It's a winner. Just read this review," he said, handing me a paper. "It's a winner, as you say," I responded, after carefully reading the notice. "There is no doubt of that," he replied quickly. "Why don't you go and see his publishers? They can tell you all you want to know." "Haven't I been there? I can get abso- lutely nothing from them. But I will not give up. If I can get a story from his pen our magazine will float you understand float." The fellow became so enthusiastic about what they would do that I became wearied. I be- gan to be sorry that I had run across him again. I did not wish to be rude, but I tried to show nim that I was preoccupied and did not care to talk. But that made no difference to him; he rattled on incoherently. I busied myself with writing out my order on the small blank pad before me and paid no heed to him. After five minutes or so I was greatly relieved 70 THE PERSIAN TASSEL to find that he had called the waiter and was about to go. While waiting for my luncheon I thought about the strange happenings of the day. It seemed that months had passed since my visit to Dr. Talmar, the reading of the account of his mysterious murder, and the following un- expected details. I had lived through less than twenty-four hours of the most conflicting thoughts ever yet imagined in any of my wildest fancies as a fiction writer. To con- centrate my thoughts in one channel seemed impossible. I hurried from one idea to ar- other. First my morning talk with Bennett arose in my mind and assumed huge proportions. His strange, incomprehensible manner in re- gard to my questions about the murder ex- cited my fanciful imagination. I recalled the red-headed man I had seen in Dr. Talmar's office the night before, and the memory of his resemblance to Bennett kept occurring to me with persistent force. Could there possibly be any mystery here? Of course not. Had I not afterward seen Bennett in the parlor with Janet and Vi? Besides, I could think of no earthly reason that Bennett would have for disguising himself. THE PERSIAN TASSEL 71 I dismissed the thought and resumed my meditations. This time I thought of Janet and of Vi's story of the death of Dr.Talmar. I turned over all the facts in my mind, and finally resolved to go to Shetland at once and see for myself if I could detect in any way a clue whereby I might eliminate my doubts. The whole affair was a strange coincidence. My answering the advertisement and finding that the house was the same one that Ben- nett was to visit in order to bring Vi home was startling. My seeing a red-headed man who strangely resembled Bennett, and whose face I had later seen peering through the window, was mysterious 1 unaccountable. I could not solve the riddle ; it was the most per- plexing affair I had ever tried to handle. At last I finished my meal and an hour later I was walking around the yard at the Talmar homestead. Apparently the house was va- cant, and with the exception of several boys standing near, talking over the crime, no one was to be seen. The room at the rear of the house was in ruins; the roof had partly fallen and the walls were severely damaged. I glanced through a broken window and saw that the floor of the room was flooded with water. Broken glass bottles from the surround- 72 THE PERSIAN TASSEL ing medical cabinets were heaped in piles upon the floor. I walked around to the rear of the house, examining the ground where the crys- allized snow held the imprints of many feet. A colored woman appeared on the porch, carrying a pan of garbage to be thrown into the can that stood outside. Upon seeing me she started as if in fright. "You are Phyllis Downs?" I asked kindly in order to win her confidence, for she seemed agitated. "Yes, suh; dat's my name. But how'd you know?" "I am a personal friend of Miss Negley and of her friend, Miss Bennett," I replied. "T'ank de good Lawd! Yuh ain't no de- tective, is yuh? I'm skeered of 'em. Dere's been mo'n fifty here to-day. 'Em's pow'ful suspicious men, an' I hain't no likin' for 'em. Dey'se axed me more questions dan I'd ever thought of in my life befo'." "I'm not one of them, Phyllis; and you need not be afraid of me," I answered. "No, suh, I ain't now; but jist at first my heart t'umped some. You look gemmen-lack to me, an' 'case you's Miss Janet's frien' I's gwine to like yuh. How is Miss Janet, po' darlin'? An' Marse Talmar is gone gone THE PERSIAN TASSEL T3 for good." Phyllis wiped her eyes with her gingham apron. "You can come in, suh, an' I'll show yuh where Marse Talmar was kilt. I sho' won't stay here to-night. Marse Tal- mar might come back an' ha'nt me. I am' gwine take no chances. No, suh; dis here nig- ger's too smart for dat." She rambled on, and I paid little attention to her words, as I fol- lowed her into the room where she said her master had been murdered. The room looked about the same as it had the previous night when I talked with the doctor, except that the wall was scorched at the rear and the carpet was burned in one corner and wet after the work of the firemen. "Dere, suh, is de ezac' spot where he was found," said Phyllis, pointing to the floor at the side of the desk, which stood in the center of the room. The spot was saturated with blood. "One of de 'tectives took de knife dat kilt 'im. He kep' it alms on de table dar. He called it a dissection knife whatever dat is." I thought I would question the negress and possibly she, in her naive way, might tell me something that would unravel the mystery. "How did it happen, Phyllis? Do you know anything about it?" 74 THE PERSIAN TASSEL "No, suh; how'd yuh 'spect dis 'ere nigger to know anyt'ing? I war' asleep in yonder room, an', t'ank de good Lawd, I didn't know any fracas war' gwine on. I'd ha' ben skeered sick. I ain' no cowherd, but ' "And you didn't hear anything in the night, Phyllis? Weird sounds, nor talking, nor shuffling of feet, nor anything like that?" She came up to me softly and placed her fat black hand upon my arm detainingly while her voice sank to a whisper as she said: "I did heah sumpin', but it doan' have nothin' to do wid de murder. I ain' tole dis to no- body yet, an' ain' gwine to ; but you'se a f rien' of Miss Janet an' doan' count. Dem officers an' 'tectives is awful 'spicious an' I ain' tellin' 'em nothin.' Dis here nigger ain' wantin' to git in no trouble. I's been a slave an' I knows w'at white men's questions spell, trouble, I tell yuh, trouble. Phyllis ain' huntin' no trou- ble, I want yuh to know." "Go on, Phyllis; I will not repeat a word you say. If it is a secret I'll keep it." "It ain' jist ezac'ly a secret, but yuh knows Miss Janet ain' jist de kin' what likes folks to meddle wif her 'fairs. An' dis is her bus'ness. I woked las' night an' I heard talkin' in dis 'ere room. It war' goin' on near mornin,' an Miss THE PERSIAN TASSEL 75 Janet war' quarrelin' wid Marse Talmar. He war' angry an' talked loud an' mean. My room is right here," she continued, tapping the wall at the left, "in 'tween de back hall an' Marse Talmar's laboratory. De walls is thin an' I could hear pretty good, but not allsom- ever. Miss Janet war' quarrelin' wid her father 'bout money an' a 'tisement w'at she says he oughtn't to put in de paper. I doan' pay much 'tenshun, an' in liT w'ile goes ter sleep an' doan' wake up till neah seben 'clock dis mawnin', den sot up in de bed, smellin' smoke. Den I dressed purty quick an' foun' dat de house war' afire." "What time did you say you heard Miss Janet and her father talking?" I asked anx- iously. "I doan' know. It war' sho' late, kase I war' sleepin' fer a good bit. It war' long ar- ter Miss Bennett an' her brother was gone, fer I doan' go to bed till dey lef '." The negro's story and Janet's did not cor- respond. Janet had said that she had not seen her father that night after Bennett and his sister had left. The conflicting stories up- set me; and I questioned the negro more closely, but she strenuously averred that her account was the truth. 76 THE PERSIAN TASSEL I examined the room minutely before I again asked Phyllis a question. "Did the offi- cers find anything in the way of clues, Phyllis? Did the murderer come in at the door or win- dow? Did he leave nothing behind?" "Yas, suh, de knife war' a-lyin' on de flo' 'side de body. Dem orficers tooken it. Wen I rush' into de room an' foun' de firemen bendin' over mah marster, I jist kneel down 'side 'im 'an pat his col' ban', cryin' 'sif mah po ole heart would break. 'Tween his fingers war' dis." Phyllis produced from her pocket a small tassel of Persian design which she placed in my outstretched palm. The tassel was about three inches long, woven in vari-col- ored silks, red, black, gold, blue, and yellow, a mixture of brilliant hues. "Why didn't you give this to the officers, Phyllis?" I asked, somewhat sternly. The negro became excited and stammered awkwardly. "I doan' know. I doan' t'ink 'bout dat I put it in mah pocket an' den fer- gits all 'bout it." "You can give me the tassel, Phyllis; and I want to tell you something. If you don't want to get into trouble with these officers, don't tell them anything about finding this tassel. If you do," I said quite severely, "you THE PERSIAN TASSEL 77 will be in great danger you understand? danger. Also do not repeat to any one un- derstand me anything you have told me about Miss Janet's quarreling with her father. Now, I warn you, Phyllis. Keep a close mouth and say nothing. Forget what you have told me." "Is it so dreffel, Marse Powell?" The ne- gress looked scared. "Yes, dreadful for you if you tell it," I an- swered, placing the tassel in my pocket. "Don't tell any one that you saw me or talked to me. This, too, must be kept a secret be- tween you and me." "I ain' gwine to tell nothin'. Dis here nig- ger ain' lookin' fer trouble. I'll keep mum, sure 'nough." I felt that Phyllis meant what she said, and that I had frightened her sufficiently to rely upon her silence. I turned, put a dollar bill in her hand, and left. My mind was so preoccupied with the mys- terious happenings of the day that I have no recollection of walking to the station at Shet- land nor of boarding a train for New York. I recall showing my ticket to the conductor, but that is all. I was mentally drunk; my mind was so stimulated with love, mystery, and 78 THE PERSIAN TASSEL crime that all traces of sanity had fled. I was in a veritable whirl of emotions, and not until I reached my room at six o'clock did I collect my wits sufficiently to take the subject up coherently. There was a bright fire blazing in the grate. I pulled up a chair and began to un- ravel the tangle in my mind. All at once I seemed to see things clearly, and I began to weigh the pros and the cons in a calm manner. First, why should Janet Negley tell me an untruth? Why did Bennett act so strangely? Vi had also acted mysteriously. I thought of her halting manner and nervousness when I recalled the stolen money. She had not spoken of it in telling me the story. That alone was not of any consequence, but her manner was. She had certainly acted very strangely. The more I turned and twisted things the less I found that was of real importance. I had let my imagination run riot, and I con- cluded after an hour's reflection that I was simply building my own mystery without foundations. Many things of a purely per- sonal nature could account for such queer ac- tions. They did not necessarily point to the murder of Dr. Talmar. I resolved to think THE PERSIAN TASSEL 79 no more of the affair, and to let it work out its own course naturally. I found that this was hard for me to do. What I had heard from Janet and Phyllis worried me. Could Phyllis be wrong and had she dreamed that she had heard Janet quar- reling with her father? It was very possible, and seemed probable. Negroes, I recalled, were susceptible to phantasies, and this might have been simply a fancy or nightmare of Phyllis's. I decided to drop that part of the matter from my mind. Try as I would, I could not keep from thinking of the Persian tassel. It was a tan- gible reality that no power of imagination could dispel. I turned the silken object in my palm, examining carefully its texture, workmanship, and size. Could it have belonged to a rug or to a portiere in the doctor's office? I could not recall having seen either article in his study. The floor was carpeted, but there were no rugs and there were no portieres at the doors. The two long tables were not covered and a blotting-pad protected the surface of the writing-desk in the corner. The curtains at the window were of white linen. The tassel did not belong in the doctor's study. Phyllis had found it in the doctor's hand. 80 THE PERSIAN TASSEL This thought frightened me, for it seemed to make certain the fact that a woman had been connected with the murder of Dr. Talmar. I had known from the first that the tassel was a woman's adornment. I had tried hard to avoid the thought and had endeavored to per- suade myself in every way that the tassel be- longed upon some household article or decora- tion, but without avail. I felt that if I thought any more about the murder I should lose my mind. Rising abruptly, I threw off my coat, seated myself at my desk, and began to write. At seven o'clock the following morning I had finished the second installment of my story. The thoughts that had baffled me all day had been put upon paper in the form of a story. As I reread the story, I became even less sure of my sanity, for unconsciously I had emphasized my doubts of the hero, who was Bennett, of his sister, and of Janet Negley. I thought at first I would tear it up ; but, upon reflection, I decided to keep it. It was simply fiction, taken partly from facts and partly from my poor deluded brain ; but I felt that it was a good story, thrilling in the extreme, and I was sure that its publication would add to my fame as an author. THE PERSIAN TASSEL 81 I had not eaten anything since noon of the preceding day; yet I was not hungry. Nor was I tired after a whole night's loss of sleep in the creation of my story. I was living at high tension, and my ambition soared and my enthusiasm grew more and more ardent as I thought of my love, whose pale, sweet face persisted in coming between me and my work. I had an incentive now for literary composition far greater than had been my altruistic friend- ship for Bennett. I had been content for years to write for him alone, with no demand for remuneration ; but now a change had taken place. Now I wanted to write for pay and for fame, so as to become desirable in the eyes of the woman I loved. The incentive rose higher and higher, and I became obsessed with one idea, the idea that I had once before felt was supreme, and that was when my uncle had said, "Clarke, you shall become a writer." I felt the same exhilaration and happiness now that I had had for so short a time so many years ago. I had renewed my youth and my enthusiasm, and Janet Negley was responsible for it all. After ringing the bell for my landlady, and giving instructions for my breakfast to be brought to my room, I sat down at my desk 82 THE PERSIAN TASSEL and wrote out a synopsis of my story as far as I had gone into it. Folding the written sheets, I put them in my pocket, then went to the telephone, called up the editor of Ham- mond's Magazine, and made an appointment with him for five o'clock that afternoon, to dis- cuss my story. I had decided to submit it to him for the reason that his magazine gave the highest literary reputation to its contributors as well as considerable remuneration for ac- cepted material. A waiter arrived with my tray of food and I ate a substantial meal for the first time in thirty-six hours. Then I busied myself again at my desk, opening letters, circulars, and bills. I opened a magazine, one of many that I sub- scribed to annually, and ran through it rapidly. It was Hammond's Magazine, and I read its contents more closely in order to acquaint my- self with the specific kind of material that its editors now favored. The greater part of the fiction was written by well-known authors of great prominence and popularity. There was an adventure serial, with beautiful illustra- tions, which were its most meritorious part. The story was not near so good as mine, and I felt more than ever assured that mine would meet with Steve Moultrie's approval. Moul- THE PERSIAN TASSEL 83 trie was the editor of Hammond's Magazine. I looked through the magazine and came upon a story by Douglas White. I had little interest in Douglas White, if any at all; but I had renewed my literary enthusiasm to such an extent that I was now curious to see why his creations had caused so much comment and were in such demand by magazine editors. I would read the story and find wherein lay his secret power. Judging from its title, it was a love story of modern times. The first paragraph stimu- lated my interest, so I sat back in my chair and read the story through. It was undoubt- edly a work of genius, for such perfection of style and craftsmanship I have never found except in the work of masters. The story was original in plot and superbly handled. A great desire to know the creator of such a story was my first thought. The man was an idealist and a scholar. Here was genius displayed in all its divinity, and my own poor attempts seemed worthless in my ej r es. Whoever Douglas White was he had made a friend, one whose interest and loyalty would last. I too would join the fra- ternity of pursuers and lend an enthusiastic ear whenever I heard his name mentioned. 84 THE PERSIAN TASSEL I tossed the magazine upon the desk and arose to my feet as some one knocked at the door. "No; there is no need to make the bed nor straighten the room," I said to the maid who stood before me. "I did not disturb the bed last night and the room need not be cleared at present; but you may remove the tray." Turning the alarm of my clock to the hour of twelve-thirty, I put it upon the table by my desk and threw myself upon the bed and slept. CHAPTER VII THE BED TOUPEE MY alarm clock awakened me on schedule time, and I went at once to the Bennett home. The weather had taken a sudden turn and was much warmer than on the preceding day. The sun shone brightly and the snow had melted so that the pavements were a slush of water and ice. It was a day in late Feb- ruary, and I felt that this sudden change of temperature was an indication that an early spring was at hand. The funeral services for Dr. Talmar were brief. Later as we drove to the cemetery I noticed how quiet and preoccupied Bennett was, as were also the girls, who sat opposite us in the closed carriage. Upon our return I spoke a few words of condolence to Janet and took my departure. She had appeared calm and self-possessed throughout the services, but her sad, sweet countenance thrilled me, and I longed to take her in my arms and comfort her. I had to 85 86 THE PERSIAN TASSEL check myself when I was with her, for my love overpowered my sense of fitness. I knew that if I wished to pursue a sensible course in my wooing I must not be too eager. To declare my love at such a time and after so brief an acquaintance was out of the question. I kept my appointment with the editor of Hammond's Magazine and handed to him the synopsis of my story. "Read it carefully," I said, "and tell me what you think of it. Don't be afraid to tell me the truth. It is the best thing I have ever done. Still, I may have overrated its merit." I busied myself with a copy of the magazine until he replied. "It's splendid," he declared. "At least it has every promise. The plot is original and most intricate." "I have already written two-thirds of it. I will send that much over by a messenger at once if you will promise me a quick decision. The manuscript is in my handwriting; I haven't had time to have it typed. There is very little correction or revision to be done." "That's satisfactory, Mr. Powell," he said. "Send the manuscript over before six o'clock, and I will take it home with me to-night, and give you my decision to-morrow. The THE PERSIAN TASSEL 87 synopsis gives unusual promise and I feel that I will be able to decide quickly. Now about the price. What do you want for the story?" "Your usual rates will be satisfactory," I replied. "But I want it published in your next issue." "I'm afraid I can't promise that, Mr. Powell. Everything has been planned and is now in the hands of the printer. But, wait, let me see " He took a large book from one of the desk drawers and opened it, running his finger down the written columns; then closed it abruptly. "If we accept this story I may be able to get it in this issue. I will do what I can. It might be possible to drop one of the short stories and make a place for you. I'll see if that can be arranged. You have done some splendid work for the Favorite Magazine in the past, Mr. Powell, and I am interested in your career. I understood you were under a contract to write only for Mr. Bennett." "Not exactly," I answered. "I am glad to hear it. We may possibly be able to work together." His attitude was re- assuring and friendly in the extreme, and I be- came hopeful. "You have a fine story in your last issue, 88 THE PERSIAN TASSEL Mr. Moultrie," I continued, "by Douglas White. I consider it the work of a genius and am greatly interested in him. Who is he and how did you discover him?" "That is a strange affair, Mr. Powell," re- plied the editor, his face alight with interest. "I can find out absolutely nothing about the man. I have bought nearly a dozen stories from him, which are all to be published this year, and I have had to pay an exorbitant price for each one. He sent a batch of six here by a messenger four or five months ago, giving no address but saying his messenger would call again for the decision. The prices asked for the stories were exorbitant and I felt that I could not pay so much. But no editor could reject such stories. I offered a large price to the messenger when he returned, but he said Mr. White would accept nothing less than he had asked, so I paid his price. I dis- like anything anonymous; but what can one do? As an editor, I am looking for good, original new writers, and he is one whose name will not remain unknown long. I simply suc- cumbed to the inevitable and paid the price, just twice the amount we usually pay." We discussed the genius of Douglas White for ten minutes or more; then I left, promis- THE PERSIAN TASSEL 89 ing to send my manuscript in before the office closed for the day. I dispatched it post-haste by a messenger. I decided it was now necessary to see Ben- nett and tell him of my decision to dispose of my stories elsewhere. This was due to him as my friend. He had always been interested in my literary career, and often had persuaded me to give other magazines a chance, inas- much as I had more material than he could pos- sibly use. But I had always had very little ambition, and, having sufficient money for my personal needs, there was no incentive to sell my stories. Indeed I felt an aversion to send- ing my pet creations to editors whose petty criticisms were sometimes hard and unjust. Bennett appreciated my work and I did not care to place it in a stranger's hands. My talents, I felt, were a divine gift, and I could not bring them down to the sordid level of an ordinary trade. With these thoughts running through my brain I shrank from the ordeal of telling Ben- nett of my new decision. I found him at his office, but with hat and coat on, ready to leave. "What's your hurry?" I asked. "It's hardly six o'clock." "I promised Vi I would be home early. 90 THE PERSIAN TASSEL You know she has a great care in Miss Neg- ley." "Is she ill?" I asked anxiously, for my heart thumped loudly at the sound of her name. "No; no more than is natural after what she has gone through. She is slowly improving and I believe a few days of rest will restore her altogether. The shock of the doctor's strange death has made her very nervous." His manner of explaining all this seemed to me as if he were in full possession of Janet Negley's thoughts, as if he were personally in- timate with her mental worries and I were not. At least his manner was disquieting. I was secretly jealous of Bennett's constant prox- imity to Janet, and for this reason I was sus- picious of his haughty manner. He had re- sumed a more natural attitude toward me, but even now he was not the Walter Bennett of old. Something had come between us, and in- tuitively I felt that Janet was the cause. I was just about to turn the conversation upon the question of my untimely visit when he left the room, saying: "Just a moment, Powell; I want to speak to the bookkeeper." He entered the adjoining room and closed the door. For several moments I sat before the desk, quietly turning in my mind just how THE PERSIAN TASSEL 91 I would tell him of my resolution to give to Hammond's Magazine my serial, which he did not even know had been written. It was strange that he had not asked me about a story. He must have found one to take the place of the one that I could not and would not write. His reason for not speaking to me again on the subject was probably on account of his mind's being preoccupied with home affairs and the horrible tragedy that seemed to be winding us so mysteriously in its mesh. I sat gazing across the room in deep thought. An article at the side of the bookcase arrested my attention. I arose and walked over toward it, pulled the thing from between the wall and the bookcase, and held it before my eyes. It was a red toupee. In a panic of fear I immediately replaced it carefully just where I had found it, before I should be detected. Bennett came in a few seconds later, but I immediately left, deciding that I would not tell him about my story. The finding of the red toupee had destroyed every vestige of sanity I possessed. The links of the chain now seemed to be connecting, and I felt that absolute solitude, so that I could think without interruption, was necessary. I had told Vi that I would come out that 92 THE PERSIAN TASSEL evening to call; but I found later in the eve- ning that I was in no fit mood to see any one, although the thought of seeing Janet and of being near her was most alluring. My atti- tude toward things in general, and toward Bennett in particular, obscured my finer in- stincts and I telephoned that I would not come. The finding of the red toupee in Bennett's office had so upset me that I could think of nothing else. I recalled everything that had happened during the last four days, and step by step I put together a series of mysterious and baffling facts, which at the time I had thought merely strange, but which now as- sumed coherent form. The suspicion that took possession of me upon discovering the disguise in Bennett's office was that he was the red-headed man I had seen on the night of my visit to the doctor's office. If my sus- picions were correct, this alone was sufficient reason for his strange behavior. But why? The interrogation overwhelmed me. Why should Bennett disguise himself and go to the house his sister was visiting? I re- called his leaving the doctor's office and my see- ing his face at the window. He had not heard the doctor's story, for had not the doctor told me I was the first one to hear it? If this red- THE PERSIAN TASSEL 93 headed man was Bennett in disguise, he had raised the window a few inches to hear the story. But had I not seen Bennett in the par- lor as I reentered the waiting-room? Had he had time to remove his wig and enter the house? Janet would not have recognized him as one of the previous applicants. If this were so and intuitively I felt that it was why had he done this? Could my college friend be implicated in the murder of Dr. Talmar? The question startled me and I felt that I had secretly sinned against him, an irrevocable offense, one I could never forgive myself. But the suspicion had taken deep root in my brain. Yet there was no present means of confirmation; I must thrash the matter out in my mind and either accuse my friend upon circumstantial evidence or drop the matter entirely. The latter I could not do. I must continue in my perilous and disillusioned course. If Bennett were guilty, then the motive of the crime was money. He had been in great need of money. In fact the idea had obsessed him that unless he could acquire a certain amount of money or some good material for his magazine his failure was imminent. I recalled Vi's letter which Bennett had read 94 THE PERSIAN TASSEL to me in his office. Had not Vi written that Miss Negley's father had money and had she not said that she could tell him how to get some of it? Furthermore had not Vi acted strangely when she related to me the story of the tragedy as told to her by Janet? She had not mentioned that the ten thousand dollars had been stolen; and when I had spoken of it she had seemed nervous, had halted and stammered, seemingly confused, and had in- stantly turned the conversation to other mat- ters. Could both Vi and her brother be im- plicated in the crime? It seemed like sacri- lege to think such things. I was either losing my mind or my nerves were greatly shattered. Why had Bennett said he had received a letter from Douglas White saying he could have the story for nothing? This occurred the morning after the tragedy had happened. I recalled that the editor of Hammond's had said that Douglas White had refused a good offer for his stories and that he eventually had had to pay an exorbitant price for the manu- scripts. If this were true why should Ben- nett receive an anonymous letter saying he could have the story gratis? Was this not a prevarication on Bennett's part? If he had committed the crime and stolen the ten thou- THE PERSIAN TASSEL 95 sand dollars he would have sufficient money to pay Douglas White his price, and had simply given the story of the letter as a ruse, being aware of my knowledge of the miserable con- dition of his finances. If the red-headed man were Bennett in dis- guise would he not have recognized me in Dr. Talmar's office? Of course he would, and I accounted for Bennett's strange actions in this way, he feared that I had recognized him and assumed an abrupt manner of indifference in the matter to mislead me. It was natural that he should act strangely in that case. While the actions of both Vi and her brother were suspicious, Janet's account of the tragedy was also mystifying. She and Phyllis did not tell the same story. This inconsistency I finally eliminated entirely from my thoughts. Phyllis was evidently wrong. The Persian tassel was an odd link which I could not con- nect, so I dismissed it as irrelevant. I had thrashed the subject out fully, so I believed, and there was nothing I could do. I knew that I had sufficient clues on which to have Bennett arrested upon circumstantial evi- dence if I should tell my story to the police, but I felt it my duty to shield my friend. I was the only one who did know, and the law 96 THE PERSIAN TASSEL should not come between me and my secret. If Bennett were guilty, I would not be the one to cause his arrest. If there were only some one in whom I could confide, and who could show me wherein I was wrong in my suspicions, a fearful load would be lifted off my mind. Two days passed, and I had scarcely left my rooms. I had finished the final installment of my story, the denouement being entirely imaginary and in accord with my own de- sires. I freed my hero from the suspicion of crime, and let him carry off the heroine to a minister who bound them in the bonds of matri- mony. I felt that the work was good, and I immediately dispatched it to Moultrie, who, in the meantime, had informed me by tele- phone that he would accept the story, the first installment of which he would publish in the following issue of Hammond's Magazine. He offered me a good price for the manu- script, an offer that I promptly accepted. During my two days of seclusion I had tele- phoned to Vi on several occasions making in- quiry as to Miss Negley's health. Her an- swer was always that Miss Negley was improv- ing, and my hopes would arise forthwith until she would mention that Janet was out driving THE PERSIAN TASSEL 97 with Bennett or that she would go walking with him that afternoon. I was jealous of Bennett, and suspecting him as I did, the news of his constant attentions to Janet made me grind my teeth. Those attentions should not continue. But how was I to prevent it? I could not tell my suspicions to any one. What if I were wrong? There was nothing for me to do but to become his rival for the hand of Janet Negley, and in an open and honorable manner stand my ground to lose or win. But if I should lose, could I see her marry Walter Bennett who had been the murderer of her father? My jealous hatred of Bennett had reached perilous depths, but my natural instinct of loyalty to my friend could not be entirely drowned in a day. Even while sus- pecting him of the murder of Dr. Talmar, and of unworthily wooing Janet Negley, I could not do my friend harm. If the love of success had so overpowered his better nature, and he had become so greedy and mercenary that he had stooped to crime to attain his selfish de- sires, I ought not to hate him but I should pity him in his fallen manhood. Yes, I would shield my friend from the detection of the crime. But the jealousy aroused by his ap- parent devotion to Janet made me feel that the 98 THE PERSIAN TASSEL weight that was thrust upon me was more than I could bear. Men have been known to kill their rivals through jealousy, and I felt that there was some excuse for it. I had stayed at home for two days in order not to meet Bennett, and in order to meditate in the solitude of my own room upon the strange happenings of the past week. As the day was beautiful, the wind being soft and springlike and the birds chirping gaily, I called up Janet and asked her to take a drive with me through the park. She re- plied that she had an engagement with Ben- nett, but that she would gladly accept some other day. I immediately appointed an hour for the following afternoon and left the tele- phone, my nerves tingling at the sound of her voice. CHAPTER VIII A LOVERS' RENDEZVOUS AT length I found myself alone with Janet Xegley. The park was crowded as we motored through. Children with their nurses romped and played in the sunshine, their joyous laughter reechoing throughout the grounds. The benches were filled with men and women enjoying this first promise of spring after the long months of winter. Everybody looked happy and I could scarcely repress the sympathetic exhilaration that filled me as I gazed at the scene. Janet too was stirred by the beauty and the warmth and the joyous cries of the children at play. She raised her veil, and, throwing her furs back from her shoulders, said: "Oh, don't you love the spring, Mr. Powell? It makes me happy despite all my sorrow." "I felt sure you would enjoy a ride to-day," I said, looking into her upturned face. She met my gaze with a smile and nodded assent; then she turned her head as if fearing a too personal avowal of our mutual satisfaction, and 99 100 THE PERSIAN TASSEL commenced to talk lightly about the crowd before us. A half-hour later we had passed the bustle and turmoil of the big city and were speeding toward Coney Island along the clean broad roadway that stretched out its miles of irides- cent color before our eyes, a veritable lovers' lane, I thought secretly as I gazed dreamily down into the wide vista. "Do tell me something about your writings, Mr. Powell," said Janet, after a long silence. At her words the spell was broken and I looked up abashed and stammered awkwardly: "Oh, my stories? But there is nothing to tell, Miss Negley, except that I write because I can do nothing else." "And you do not love your vocation? I consider it one of the greatest there is, with the exception of painting," she continued seriously. "Indeed I do love it; it is my very life." I felt awkward, like a bashful boy, and wished to change the subject, so I asked her if she would not like to get out and take a stroll along the beach. She replied in the affirma- tive, so I helped her alight from the car, tell- ing the driver to return for us in twenty min- utes. We walked down over the beach to the THE PERSIAN TASSEL 101 water's edge. A few yards ahead I saw a bench, facing the sea. The wind was high, but the air was soft and warm. Janet's veil fluttered freely in the breeze and once as it was blown across my face I pressed it to my lips. We were alone on the beach; not a person was in sight. The swelling billows rolled toward us, creeping stealthily over the sand, with a dull roar and a splash of effervescent spray as they broke against the bank at our feet.* I had moved perilously near Janet. Looking down at her I saw that her face was flushed. Grasping one of her gloved hands in mine I put it to my lips, saying: "Janet, Janet, I love you and have loved you from the first day we met." I gently drew her to me and put my lips upon hers. "Janet, I love you love you! Will you be my wife?" I clasped her closer. I gazed into her face with a longing to kiss her again and again, but a pressure of her arms warned me that she wished to be free from my embrace, and I released her. She had turned pale and her breathing was quick. "I have been a fool," I thought. "I have probably frightened her." 102 THE PERSIAN TASSEL "Forgive me, Janet, for speaking so sud- denly," I begged. "Forgive me, dear, for I could not help it." She had regained her composure and now turned to me. Her face bore no signs of anger, but an indefinable something lurked there. "I had no idea that you liked me," she said sadly. "Loved," I corrected. "I love you. And you?" "Why, I hardly know what my feelings for you are," she replied. "Then I will wait, Janet; wait until you do know." She placed her hand upon my arm caress- ingly and I took it and kissed it. Our ride back to the city was like a dream. The formality was at last entirely broken and we now talked naturally, but I did not again refer to my love. She had not repulsed me; that seemed to me an indication that at least I was not distasteful to her. I resolved that I would make her love me. When we reached the Bennett home I lin- gered at the door in the hope that she would in- vite me to come in, but she did not. I immediately drove to Bennett's office and THE PERSIAN TASSEL 103 found him writing, as usual. He greeted me cheerfully as I entered. I wondered what had happened; his manner had certainly changed. He was evidently feeling well, and he appeared like his old self for the first time since the tragedy. "You seem unusually happy," I said. "I am, Powell," he answered quickly. "What has happened?" "Oh, a great deal has happened." "But tell me what it is. Don't keep me in suspense." "Well," he declared, "I'm in love, I have proposed to Janet Negley." The words fell upon my ears like the de- tonation of a cannon. Bennett must have thought I was mad, for I stared at him as if he had declared himself a murderer. I leaned forward in my chair, grasping the sides tightly in an endeavor to suppress my emotion. I tried to speak but my mouth was dry and my lips were parched and burning; for the time being I was paralyzed. Finally he turned from me in disgust, saying somewhat sarcastically, "It is usually consid- ered the proper thing to congratulate one upon an occasion like this." "Then she did accept you?" I asked. It was the first time I had spoken, and my words had a hollow, metallic sound. "Well, not exactly, Powell ; but I have great hopes." I took his hand and wrung it generously. "You have hopes? I am glad. Accept my congratulations," I said. My manner was apparently so sincere that Bennett clasped my hand in return, patting me on the back in goodfellowship. "I knew you would take it like this, Clarke," he exclaimed. "You are a good fellow and my best friend. Why, confound it, old man, you are to be my best man. Think of it, accompanying your old bachelor editor to the altar. Why, it is one of the greatest compli- ments I could pay you." I could not bear to listen to his maudlin ravings, so I made an excuse and left. Anything to get away from the ravings of my lunatic rival ! So Bennett was actually my rival. This was no surmise nor was it the mysterious hal- lucination of an overworked brain. Reality stared me in the face, and I must grapple with it as best I could. However, Janet had not promised to marry him as yet. I was thank- ful of that. THE PERSIAN TASSEL 105 I had gone to Bennett's office with the in- tention of telling him of my love for Janet and of my recent proposal to her, thinking that to make him cognizant of my attitude toward her would prevent any further intimacy between them. He should not marry Janet Negley. Of this I felt sure; for unless he could extricate himself from the mesh of circumstantial evi- dence that I had found against him the evi- dence that connected him with the Talmar tragedy he should not marry the girl I loved. I would either go to him and explain my atti- tude toward Janet Negley, or tell Janet her- self and let her choose between us. She would not marry Bennett unless the suspicion against him could be explained satisfactorily to her. But I did not want to go to Bennett with the idea of accusing him of having had a hand in the murder; I knew that a satisfactory de- nouement could not be developed in that way ; and he had refused to discuss the murder of Dr. Talmar with me on several occasions when I had brought it up on purpose, in the hope that a discussion of the tragedy might eliminate my doubts concerning him. Deeply embedded in a corner of my subcon- scious mind was the thought that eventually I 106 THE PERSIAN TASSEL should win. Suppose I were to tell Janet of the mysterious part Bennett had played in the tragedy? Would that be such a terrible breach of honor? Of course it would, and I shrank from the thought. Suppose it were all a mistake about Bennett's being connected with the affair? I could not contemplate the result if that were so. Why not go to Ben- nett and explain all the circumstances and my doubts of his integrity? No; I could not do this, for the evidence I had against him was de- cidedly unstable. I could not let my friend know that I suspected him of treachery. But could I stand by silently, knowing all that I did, and let him marry the woman I loved? No; I could not do that either. I bought an evening paper, and took a Broadway car. I read the paper closely, hop- ing to come across something concerning the Talmar murder. Every night I had been reading the paper eagerly in the hope of find- ing that the mystery had been solved. The night before I had found a small item saying that the police were still working on the case, but that nothing in the way of clues had been found. To-night no reference to the crime in any way could be found, so I finally threw down the paper in disgust. A MATE TO THE PERSIAN TASSEL THE following morning I spent an hour at the Literary Club, where a small crowd of local newspaper reporters, hack writers, and the near-great assembled to dis- cuss "How to Achieve the Impossible with a Minimum of Work." I found that the usual theme of discourse had been abandoned and was usurped by the topic "Who is Douglas White?" I listened attentively to their sur- mises as to who was the newly- discovered genius, but finally became bored and left the room to telephone to Janet. I had tried to deceive myself into believing that I could shake off my nervous apprehen- sion by going to the Club and mingling with my fellow-men; but the feeling only took a stronger hold upon me, and I could not satisfy nor quiet myself until I had talked with Janet. She said I might call in the afternoon, and I longed for the hours to pass. I must see her, be with her. But a feeling of apprehension 107 108 THE PERSIAN TASSEL followed upon the thought; for I had decided to explain the mysterious part Bennett had played in the tragic death of her father. I had no alternative; I could not remain silent and see Janet marry a man who was possibly a criminal. I did not intend to tell Janet all my doubts ; but I would tell her just what I knew concern- ing Bennett's mysterious actions. Possibly she could explain his strange behavior. At least I hoped this would be the case. The hours dragged by. Ten o'clock found me walking in the park, my head bowed in meditation. At eleven I was riding on the Elevated from one end of the road to the other. I could not keep still. I felt that I had to move constantly. To see a man riding back and forth aimlessly is in itself suspicious. Any one would know that I was not riding for my health ; I certainly did not look like an in- valid. I became uneasy each time we reached the end of the line and the guard eyed me strangely, saying: "The end of the road, sir. All out here." After I had told him at the end of three trips that I wished to remain, he looked at me suspiciously, mumbling to himself; then he turned his head away, only to turn again and THE PERSIAN TASSEL 109 look at me questioningly. I became so ex- asperated by the fellow's piercing looks that I finally decided to get off at the first stop. I entered a cafe about noon. After I had finished my meal I still had two hours to wait before my appointment with Janet. How would I put in the time? I called the waiter and asked him to bring me a cigar; then I sat back in my chair impatiently and looked about the room, a small one, low and dingy, fur- nished with ten or twelve bare tables. I had been so preoccupied up to this time that I had not noticed what a distasteful place it was, this tavern on a street down near the river front. The bar was at one side, and the tur- moil within began to attract my attention as did a voice near me. Two men sat at a table at my right, a pint of brandy and a siphon between them in the center of the table. One of the men, though he seemed to be angry, talked in a low, tense tone. Still I could hear distinctly, and his first words attracted my attention. "It was the meanest piece of business I ever knew him to do," he was saying. "Still, ten thousand dollars is not to be sneezed at. This new proposition he has made sounds good to me. It's a dead easy game." 110 THE PERSIAN TASSEL The other man's answer was lost to me, as just then the waiter came up and handed me my cigar, but I heard one word that aroused my interest still more. The word was: "Shetland." I became greatly agitated but assumed an indifferent manner, relighting my cigar and feigning disinterested preoccupa- tion, while in reality I was keeping my ears strained for their next remarks. Smoking leisurely, I looked across and be- gan to study the two men. The one that had spoken first was a large-boned man, about six feet high, with brown, curly hair and a fat, bloated face. He was an illiterate, uncouth fellow, although his appearance was not un- attractive. His friend was slim in figure, im- maculate in dress, looked like a consumptive, and spoke good English. Observing that I was interested in them, they turned the con- versation to other things. They looked at me supiciously from time to time and once, just as I was about to pay the waiter, our eyes met. The lean fellow's intense scrutiny was annoy- ing and I looked away as I got up from my seat. I glanced at my watch and found that I still had an hour and a half before my appointment with Janet. I entered the street quite unde- THE PERSIAN TASSEL 111 cided what to do. The two men were coming toward the door. I stood near the corner of the building and concealed myself behind one of the pillars at the entrance. I had decided to follow the men ; it would at least give me something to do to pass away the time, and possibly I might learn something to further my own interests. I had not learned anything worth while from what I had overheard in the cafe, but to me the words "Shetland" and "ten thousand dollars" were a suspicious combination. The lean fellow pre- ceded the other as they came through the door, and I heard him say in a decided way: "Bennett is no coward and he'll succeed." They had turned to the right and started up the street in a lazy, halting manner. I waited until they were a half block away; then I fol- lowed them, keeping close to the buildings at the side, so that I could enter one of the stores if they happened to turn and recognize me. Neither of the men looked around. At length, I thought, I had found the trail by which I would eventually become enlight- ened. Bennett was guilty; my heart fell at the thought. His name had been mentioned in connection with Shetland and the ten thousand dollars. These two men were most likely his 112 THE PERSIAN TASSEL accomplices. Oh, the thought was madden- ing! A lump rose in my throat as if to choke me, and the sadness that came over me as I thought of my friend was intense. I would now have to tell Janet; but instinctively I knew I would conceal a large part of my sus- picion, from a sense of loyalty to my friend. I followed the men for several blocks, lost track of them once, but found they had only crossed the street and entered the basement of a dilapidated two-story frame building. As I saw them disappear from view on the opposite side of the street, I decided to stop and wait until they came out again; then I would continue to follow them to see if I could learn anything. Turning around I found I was standing in front of a small, dirty tobacco shop, which faced directly the building the two men had entered. I scribbled the number of the house and street in my note-book, then entered the little shop. The room was very small; it was all I could do to turn around in the space be- tween the counters. The air was stifling, and dirt and dust lay a quarter of an inch thick upon the surrounding boxes. The man behind the counter was a dwarf; THE PERSIAN TASSEL 113 a pair of sickly dull blue eyes shone out of his face. He smelled of tobacco and garlic. I looked around, keeping a close eye upon the house across the street, and finally purchased a package of cigarettes. Lighting a cigarette, I asked: "You don't object to my opening the door, do you? There's scarcely enough air in here for two men and a cigarette." "Naw," drawled the little fellow in a coarse twang; "but air don't agree with me much. It gives me neuralgia, so that's why I keep the doors and windows shut purty tight." "Have you had this store long?" I asked, eying him keenly. "Do you make much money ? Are there many good spenders about here?" I wanted to get him to talk. "Wall, not so much," he replied; "but lately my trade is a-pickin' up some. Thar's two fellows across the street that spend a sight on tobacco. I had to get a box o' ten-centers for them, and they bought them all in a few days. They got lots of money, them fellows." "They're newcomers, you say?" He had not said so, but I asked the question in a man- ner that suggested that I was only speaking to keep the conversation going. In reality I was 114 THE PERSIAN TASSEL greatly excited over the knowledge that the man might be able to tell me something of in- terest concerning them. "Yes, they been here about a week." "What are their names?" "Don't know." "What do they do? How do they get their money?" I tried to look disinterested, but I must have failed in my object, or the fellow was not quite so big a fool as I had thought. He eyed me rather sharply and turned to ar- range some boxes on the shelves as he gave an indifferent answer. I glanced at my watch and decided to leave, as there was no telling when the men would come out again from across the street. It was too late for me to follow them, although it was still rather early to go to Janet's. I had the number of the place and could come back later. Walking down the street, I took the Elevated to Harlem and in a short while I was with Janet. My glance devoured her. Her satiny skin shone fair as a lily in the low-cut negligee dress. It was the second time I had seen her dressed in colors, and she looked enchanting in the varicolored silk. I was greatly embarrassed, not knowing how to bring up the subject that THE PERSIAN TASSEL 115 was on my mind, and Janet seemed preoc- cupied and worried. "You do not seem like yourself, Janet," I said, coming over and seating myself beside her on the couch. "Are you worried about anything? Tell me, dear," I insisted, as she sat silent and gazing dreamily through the window. Finally, with a deep sigh, she turned to me, and placed one hand on my arm, saying: "Yes, I am worried. I am afraid, Mr. Powell, I had better go home. I have been with Vi a week, and I cannot expect to stay here indefinitely. I can get Phyllis to come back and keep house for me. I have dreaded the thought of returning to Shetland, and have postponed it from day to day for that reason, but something has occurred that makes it necessary for me to go. I must make my arrangements at once." "Something has happened?" I said in alarm. "What, Janet ? Tell me, dear- "Oh, it is nothing serious," she said nerv- ously; "but I would feel better at home." I implored her to tell me. "Indeed, Mr. Powell, I hardly know what to say; it is such a peculiar situation. Mr. Ben- nett is your friend." She looked at me appeal- 116 THE PERSIAN TASSEL ingly, walked over to the window and gazed out for a moment, then turned again toward me. "Yes, Mr. Bennett is my friend, Janet; but I love you. Tell me and let me dispel your doubts or reassure you." "Mr. Bennett proposed to me a few days ago, and " I went toward her excitedly. "Yes, yes; but you did not accept him, Janet? Tell me." "No; I did not accept him," she replied firmly. "Thank God!" "But I foolishly promised to give him an an- swer," she continued hastily, with a catch in her breath; then she added more calmly: "This morning I noticed at the breakfast table that he seemed excited, and afterward he told me that he wished to talk with me. I fol- lowed him into the parlor and he closed the door. He was very much agitated and asked me to forget his declaration of love for me. He said he loved me madly, but that it was a hopeless passion and he could not marry me under any circumstances. He could not tell me why this was so, but said that circum- stances were such that he could not think of THE PERSIAN TASSEL 117 marrying any woman. He begged me to for- give him. He acted like a madman, Mr. Powell, and I became frightened. It is such an unusual occurrence, and well, I'd rather not stay here any longer. Vi and Mr. Ben- nett have both been most kind to me, but of course I do not wish to stay here any longer." Deeply troubled, she looked intently out the open window. "I would not worry, Janet," I said gently; "Bennett has some reason for his inexplicable behavior. ... It is natural you should not wish to stay here any longer." "Oh, I am so glad to hear you say so, for I feared to appear selfish and disloyal to Vi if I returned home against her wishes. I spoke to her of it this morning." While she was speaking I stood gazing at her, fascinated by the alluring picture that she made in her rich gown of Persian silk. A gold cord was loosely wound around her waist, and from one end of this cord dangled a Persian tassel, the exact duplicate of the one I had. Its mate was missing. I walked up close to her and took one of her hands in mine. "You have lost a tassel, dear," I said. "How did it happen?" 118 THE PERSIAN TASSEL I noticed a fleeting expression of annoy- ance pass over her face. "Oh, its loss is immaterial," she answered. "I have simply neglected to replace it." "It may be difficult to match it," I continued, persistently. "Yes, I am afraid so. I bought the gown in Teheran three years ago, when father and I were in Persia." "It's too bad. Maybe you'll find it around the house somewhere." She seemed annoyed, and tried to change the subject; but I was obsessed with the idea of clearing up the mystery concerning that hate- ful tassel. Her manner was anything but re- assuring, and my heart grew heavy with appre- hension despite her fascinating presence. "Janet, tell me how you lost the tassel," I begged, showing some excitement. "But, Mr. Powell, why should you ask? How does one lose anything? It does not worry me, except that the dress seems hardly tidy. If you had not come quite so early I would not have had to appear in this." She smiled as she looked down at her attire. "I see you are decidedly what shall I say? finicky as to matters of dress. The omission disturbs your esthetic taste. Perfection in de- THE PERSIAN TASSEL 119 tail is essentially an author's trait. I shall not forget it, Mr. Powell; I shall discard the dress until I can replace the tassel." She was ridiculing me for my impudence in mentioning the matter. Indeed, I had cer- tainly taken a very great liberty in even men- tioning the subject. I had seen only my side of the question, and had failed to consider the personal criticism my words might convey. How could I extricate myself from the mis- understanding? There seemed to be no way. Janet's words were light and piquant, but her tone of irony made them weigh heavily. "I beg your pardon, Janet," I said. "I was not criticising you personally. Forgive me if I have offended." "You have not offended me, Mr. Powell; let's forget all about it." She took a book from the table and turned the pages carelessly. I did not bring up the subject again. "Janet, you should not go back to that house alone," I said, after a few minutes of silence, during which I had been gazing at her with a longing to embrace her. Her indifference en- raged me. "Janet," I began, my voice trembling like an infatuated school-boy's, "why can't we be 120 THE PERSIAN TASSEL married at once, and then you'll not have to return to Shetland? I fear to have you go back to that house alone after that dread- ful tragedy and you so young, unprotected, and" She interrupted the flow of words. Her voice was calm, but her reserve somewhat checked and chilled me. "I cannot marry you now, Mr. Powell," she said. "It is impossible to give you a definite answer. I like you immensely, perhaps more than I care to acknowledge, but I cannot think of marriage at present." "But why, Janet, why? If you do care for me," I added, imploringly. "If you care for me that is all that is necessary. I would marry you if you didn't care for me, and take the chance of winning your love. For God's sake, say something, Janet. Say that some time you will marry me!" I arose and began pacing back and forth, but still she did not reply. I took my hat from the table, hardly know- ing what I was doing; then she arose and placed a detaining hand upon my arm. "If you cannot wait for my answer, Mr. Powell " she began. I interrupted her by grasping the hand and THE PERSIAN TASSEL 121 i. crushing it to my lips. "I will wait, Janet, I will wait," I said, in a choked voice. Putting my arms around her, I held her close to me and kissed her. Then releasing her, I added, "I will wait, Janet, just as long as you wish." I did not look back nor hear her response as I hurriedly left the house. GONE MY love for Janet Negley was the pas- sion of a lifetime, a love not of the senses alone, but of the spirit as well. I re- garded my feeling for the girl as the one ir- resistible force of my life. Could any one come between us, now that Bennett had re- called his proposal? I laughed in sheer re- lief at the insanity of my friend's behavior. Common sense whispered vague, indefinite doubts as to his sanity; but as I knew some- thing of what the reasons for his actions were I put aside my fears. At least he had a spark of honor left, for he had realized that he could not marry Janet Negley with such a crime on his conscience. I alternated between joy and despondency. Bennett was no longer my rival, but was I any nearer to winning Janet than before? Her manner had been decidedly encourag- ing. I recalled her words: "Possibly I like you more than I care to acknowledge." But why should she not want to acknowledge that 122 THE PERSIAN TASSEL 123 she cared for me? What reason had she for hiding her emotion or refusing to give me her answer at once? A thought came to my mind that dazed me : "Is the Persian tassel the reason for her hesi- tancy?" My mentioning the incident of the lost tassel had brought the color to her cheeks, and her agitation had not gone unobserved, although my proximity to her at the time had diverted all other thoughts than those of my love. Away from her I could think more clearly. Her stubborn refusal to give me her answer made this tassel seem my most mortal enemy. The reason for its loss must be divulged. The story Phyllis had told came to my mind again, and subconsciously I began to feel in some uncomfortable way that Janet was con- nected with the murder. I passed my hand across my forehead in bewilderment, trying, as it were, to wipe the thought from my mind. But it had taken a powerful hold upon me and I found I could not dismiss it so easily. I must think it all out for myself. To try to hide or stifle the thought only made it burn the more insistently. I grew drunk with my thoughts as I walked faster and turned my steps toward the park. 124 THE PERSIAN TASSEL But I must cure myself of the doubt. I was mad to think of such a thing anyway. The sweet vision of Janet arose and I threw myself face downward on a bench, exhausted with mental suffering. Bennett was guilty of the murder; how could I doubt Janet? Then the circumstances confronted me. The girl's agitation at the mention of the lost tassel, the story of Phyllis, and Janet's re- fusal to give me her answer had all made an indelible impression upon my brain. I became bolder in my analysis and still more erratic. Suppose she were implicated in the murder of her father ; was it of any great importance? If she were, there must have been some good reason for her act. Could a girl of her purity and moral strength stoop to crime unless it was unpreventable? If so, was she not to be forgiven. Possibly her father deserved his fate. I was trying to per- suade myself of her innocence. Why not take the Irish view: was she not a heroine, even if guilty? Was the crime not justifiable? Would she not be the more ador- able on account of the strength of a brave and fearless character? Did not some one have to have justice? Were all laws not questionable? Could a girl of her delicacy and fine sensibility do any great wrong? No! No! She was jus- tified in committing the crime! I forced that idea upon my mind; she was a heroine in my eyes. I jumped from the bench in haste. My imagination now powerfully stimulated, I walked hurriedly through the park. Several policemen turned and gazed at me and many people stared; I paid no attention but hurried on as one bereft of reason. I walked for hours and hours, up one street and down another; I took car rides, then subway rides, rode on the Elevated, and finally again began to walk the streets, my mind a whirl of madness. If Janet would only say she would marry me, all this doubt and uncertainty would vanish. I would marry her in spite of my sus- picion. My only fear was that she would not marry me because of some secret implication in the crime. I knew deep down in my heart that she was not guilty, for Bennett was the one to whom circumstantial evidence really pointed. Still, in some baffling way, she was interwoven with the tangle. It was now dark and Broadway was alight with noise and excitement. I had been walk- ing since three o'clock in the afternoon, and still I did not feel tired. My brain was 126 THE PERSIAN TASSEL fagged, but physically I felt strong and could have walked on for several hours, although it was now eight o'clock. Many vehicles crowded the streets and entrances to the theaters, and the idea of entering one of the places of amusement arose in my mind, but I at once dismissed the thought, for I knew that the hours would drag, and that it would be impossible for me to concentrate my mind upon anything but my own wild thoughts. Why not telephone to Janet and suggest our spending the evening together? The thought was no sooner in my mind than it was acted upon. I crossed the street, went into a drug store, and telephoned. Vi answered the call. Janet, she said, had gone to mail a letter and would be back in a few minutes. I decided to wait a half -hour before calling again, so I sauntered out of the store and made my way to Bennett's office, which was hardly a block away. Two of Bennett's assistants were working over some copy in the outer room as I entered. "Is Mr. Bennett in?" I asked. "No, Mr. Powell, he left about fifteen min- utes ago. A messenger brought him a note and he went away hurriedly." THE PERSIAN TASSEL 127 "Didn't he say when he'd return?" "No, I don't believe he will be back to-night." "I want to use his telephone," I said, as I went into his private office. Bennett's desk was as usual in disorder. I could hardly find the telephone amid the dif- ferent sorts of paraphernalia that covered it. Papers were strewn over it; a discarded pair of gloves lay on one side; an empty cigar-box was upon the ink-well; and a box of rubber bands lay spilling out its contents. Nowhere could I find a pen or pencil. A dozen or more files filled to bursting were at one side of the desk. In one of the pigeon- holes there lay an ash tray filled with half smoked cigars. Bennett was a great smoker, despite the sign above his desk: "No Smok- ing Allowed." I smiled at the incongruity of his character. As I sat there in his office I thought of the loyal friendship that had existed between us for many years, of our college days together, of our love for each other, then the end, this. I looked around the desolate room and a feel- ing of pity took possession of me. Jealousy removed, my old-time friendship for Ben- nett returned; and I knew then that it had 128 THE PERSIAN TASSEL never gone, but had only been stifled for the time being by a greater love than that which I felt for him. Whatever his faults or mis- deeds, I would stand by him. Circumstances had overcome him, and he had fallen ; should I be the one to cast the first stone? Never. I would wait, and some day he would tell me all. His sufferings were greater than mine, and I would be true to the end. Perhaps the want of money had influenced him to fall. Yet how could that be? Ben- nett's magazine was doing as well as that of any of his competitors. He must have made money in the past. But what had he done with it? He and Vi were not extravagant in any sense. Could he have been speculating? I had never known him to do so, but possibly it was a recently acquired passion concerning which I had been kept in the dark. Yes, I de- cided that this must be where his money had gone. For the past three years he had com- plained constantly of his finances, yet the magazine was growing rapidly. It was un- doubtedly making money for him, consider- able money, too. And this was where it went, lost in speculation. Poor Bennett! My heart fairly ached for my friend. My head was still bowed over the desk when THE PERSIAN TASSEL 129 I remembered my desire to talk with Janet. I looked at my watch. Good heavens! it was nearly nine o'clock. I had been in the office all this time. It was now too late to call on Janet, but maybe she would let me come over for a few minutes, even at this hour; at any rate I must talk to her hear her voice. I pulled the telephone over to me, but, in order to find a smooth resting-place for it, I had to remove some of the litter on the desk. As I swept the letters, papers, and manu- scripts to one side a sheet of yellow paper at- tracted my attention. I picked it up and read : "Abduct J. Confession marriage." What did this mean? I read it again and again. It was Bennett's writing; I could swear to that. A panic of fear seized me. Were these Bennett's plans? Was he going to abduct Janet, confess to her his part of. the crime, then force her to marry him? I had turned the sheet and found on the other side a paragraph that added to my agitation: "Meet me this evening. We will discuss terms of abduction. 13 Riverside." So that was where Bennett had gone this evening. What had I better do? I talked aloud to myself, pacing the floor the while. I 130 THE PERSIAN TASSEL would warn Janet in the morning, if she would not let me come out to-night. Bennett was evidently madly in love with her and would have her at any cost. This thought again aroused the jealousy that I had thought en- tirely gone. I did not know what to do first; so many thing suggested themselves as imperative that I could not make up my mind as to what would be the most expedient course to pursue. I could not tell Janet anything over the tele- phone. The telephone rang several times before I was sufficiently shaken from my thoughts to answer. Then I said: "Hello! ... No, Mr. Bennett is not in ... Oh, is it you, Vi? . . . Yes, Clarke . . . Worried about Janet why, what's the trouble? . . . Hasn't come back? . . . No, I haven't been to my room this evening. That's strange. I'll come out at once . . . Yes, at once." I thrust the bit of yellow paper in my pocket and hurried from the office. It was nine o'clock and Janet had not returned. Could it be possible that my suspicions were correct? Had Bennett already abducted Janet? THE PERSIAN TASSEL 131 The conversation I had heard the preceding day in the tavern verified, in one sense, this letter. "This new proposition sounds mighty good to me." "It's a dead easy game." Was that not what they had said? What did it all mean? Undoubtedly these men were con- nected with the scheme of abduction. But could this be? The men had said nothing about abduction. Still, I felt instinctively that their plans were connected in some way with the note I had found on Bennett's desk. It occurred to me that Janet might have gone home. She had said she was going. Of course what a fool I had been! She must have merely decided to go to Shetland. But would she leave in such an abrupt man- ner, without saying anything to Vi? She had accepted Vi's care and hospitality for over a week, and I knew she would not go without making some explanation. Probably I would find her at Vi's, after all. She might have gone to a hundred different places; perhaps she was taking a long walk, or had met a friend and had stopped to talk for a while. Then I recalled that she had no friends, not even an acquaintance in the city. 132 THE PERSIAN TASSEL I had lived through eight of the most stren- uous days of my life, a life that now seemed topsy-turvy. When I reached the Bennett house Vi opened the door. "Hasn't she returned?" I asked, trying to hide the anxiety in my tones as I entered and closed the door. "No, Clarke, she has not; and I'm worried. You know Janet knows no one in the city, and I fear she has taken a walk and is lost. I don't believe she even took her purse. She said she was just going to the corner to mail a letter, and she has been out for an hour and a half. It seems idiotic for us to worry about her, she's no child; still, in New York such dreadful things happen, and Janet knows absolutely nothing of the city. Do you think she could have taken a walk in the park?" I had listened to Vi's talk as if in a dream, but her question awoke me. "I hardly think so, Vi ; it is so dark to-night." "I didn't become uneasy," continued Vi, "until a quarter of nine. Walt came in he stayed down-town for dinner about eight- thirty and asked for Janet. He seemed dread- fully worried over something, and when I told him Janet had gone to mail a letter THE PERSIAN TASSEL 133 about three-quarters of an hour before, he be- came very angry. He said I shouldn't have let her go out alone after dark here in New York, that I should have accompanied her. He was very nervous and wrought up over my indiscretion, as he called it, and left immedi- ately. I thought he'd gone after her, to the corner; but he hasn't returned. I couldn't get him on the 'phone ; then I became actually worried. I 'phoned to you at your rooms, but you were out; then I called up Walt's office again, thinking he might have gone back there for some reason ; and I fortunately found you there." I was only partly listening to what she was saying. My thoughts were so complicated and her explanation seemed so trivial. "I will go out and hunt for her," I said quickly. "She has probably only taken a walk. I'll find her if I have to scour all New York, so don't worry." When I found myself on the street I was yet undecided as to how to begin. I had never realized before how vast New York really was. The night was dark, shrouded, as it were, in mystery. I did not know which way to turn. I could not go to the police, although that was the most natural and expedient course to 134 THE PERSIAN TASSEL pursue. As a last resort I might do so, but first I would exhaust my own resources. I turned my steps toward a corner where I saw a mail-box. This was evidently the direc- tion that Janet had just taken, as upon the other corner there was no box. I passed up and down the adjacent streets; then I decided at once to go to Shetland. Possibly she had gone home and had left in this abrupt manner to escape the necessity of explaining to Vi just why she wished to go. She could write to her later, giving a reason for her sudden departure. At any rate, I would go out to Shetland and see for myself. I felt that I should find her there. CHAPTER XI PURSUIT I WALKED hurriedly down the street in the direction of the subway, which was some five or six blocks distant. Passing a small drug store at the corner, I stopped under an electric light, looked at my watch, then turned and entered the store. A young clerk was busy behind the counter. I walked up to him and said: "Can you give me the 'phone number of the nearest taxi station? I'm in a big hurry, and don't want to stop and take time to look it up." "Yes, sir," he replied quickly. "It is 44 Harlem. There is the 'phone over there, pointing to the corner by the door. Entering the booth, I inserted a coin and took up the receiver. A quick response came. "Yes, a taxi," I called. "Send it over at once to the Euclid Pharmacy. Hurry up; don't keep me waiting." Hanging up the receiver, I was just ready 135 136 THE PERSIAN TASSEL to step out when I noticed a stamped addressed envelope on the telephone box. Some one had forgotten to mail it and had left it there; so I took it up, intending to hand it to the clerk ; but upon reading the inscribed name and address I became anxious and alarmed. The writing was undoubtedly a woman's and the address was: "Miss Phyllis Downs, Shetland Suburb, N. Y." I immediately called the clerk. "Do you know anything about this en- velope, who left it here?" I asked, holding up the envelope before him. "I found it in the booth." He stretched out his hand for the letter, but I held it while scrutinizing him closely. "I don't know," he said slowly. "Wait, let me think. Yes, it must belong to the gentle- man who came in about two hours ago." "Gentleman?" I exclaimed. "Yes, a doctor; he was the last one to use the 'phone before you came. It must belong to him; he was in a great hurry, and had me look up the taxicab number. He was looking after a young woman that he brought in here ill. That's how I happened to know the taxi's number ; it was fresh in my mind. Give THE PERSIAN TASSEL 137 me the letter; he'll happen in again and I'll give it to him." "You say he brought in a woman who was ill? What did she look like? What did the doctor look like?" I tried not to appear anxious, for fear of arousing the fellow's sus- picions, but I was under a fearful strain. "I can't recall much about the girl," he re- plied, not seeming to notice my agitation. "She was unconscious when the doctor brought her in here, and I did not see her face. She was young, probably about seventeen, and was a blonde of medium height and slender build." "Yes, yes," I ejaculated, fairly taking the words out of his mouth. "Fair, slender, and a blonde. It is she." I turned upon him abruptly; my breathing was quick and labored, and my hands trembled. "Tell me tell me what the doctor looked like! I can't explain my interest in these persons, but it is necessary for you to tell me exactly how they looked." The clerk glanced at me inquiringly, hesi- tated, and seemed reluctant to proceed. I saw immediately that I would have to reassure him in some way. "Look here," I said, taking him by the arm. "These are the very people I have been look- 138 THE PERSIAN TASSEL ing for. The man has abducted the girl. Now tell me what he looked like, man; don't keep me in suspense." Evidently my emotion and the emphasis of my words assured him of my integrity, for he at once proceeded to describe the doctor. "He was of medium height, sort of stocky, red hair, and " "Boyish looking," I interrupted, "with a smooth face, feminine in features, nose slightly Roman?" "Yes, you are describing him exactly," he said emphatically. "But you called him doctor?" I queried. "Yes, he's Doctor Bennett," replied the clerk, looking up at me in alarm. "At least, that is what I supposed. He gave me two prescriptions; but wait I'll get them." A moment later he returned and presented two prescriptions, each stamped "Dr. Ben- nett." I read them carefully. The hand- writing was Bennett's; he had evidently dis- guised it by a backward stroke; it was small and turned to the left in a scraggly, uneven manner, as if it had been written by one whose nerves were shattered or by an amateur who was making his first attempt to disguise his writing. THE PERSIAN TASSEL 139 I took my pencil, tore off a piece of white wrapping-paper from the roll on the counter, and hastily made a copy of each of the pre- scriptions, imitating the originals as closely as possible. "You don't mind my making a copy of these prescriptions?" I asked, as I placed the piece of paper in my pocket. "I want it as a pre- caution, or clue, in case something criminal should happen. You understand, of course, as a pharmacist, that this particular mixture is a fatal dose, if given to one not habituated to the use of morphine." "Oh, yes, sir; but one can't refuse a doctor, and" "Yes, I know, I understand," I responded quickly. I did not want to let the clerk know that Bennett was not a regular physician, and had not been one for ten years. "I judge you are a professional detective, sir," remarked the clerk. "Yes," I prevaricated, "that's my business at the present time. You have no idea as to where these people went after leaving here?" "No, sir; but you might find out at the taxi office." "Good," I replied, "I'll go down there at once." 140 THE PERSIAN TASSEL I hurried through the door and my car drove up just as I entered the street. I directed the driver back to the taxicab office scarcely a dozen blocks away. When I entered the room I explained my errand and asked for the driver who had called at the Euclid Pharmacy for a man and a girl about eight o'clock that evening. The office clerk looked over the book of calls, then said to me : "Number 146 called at the Euclid Pharmacy at eight-thirty this evening, sir. You have the same driver." "All right," I answered, hastily leaving. I learned from the chauffeur that he had taken a young lady and a gentleman from the pharmacy into the city about eight-thirty. Jumping into the car, I gave him instructions to drive me to the same place. It was nearly an hour later when we stopped in a dark street, in the middle of a row of frame and brick buildings. The dim lights at each corner of the street gave hardly any illumina- tion to the dark, narrow thoroughfare. "Where are we?" I asked, alighting from the cab. "On Twelfth Street, sir," replied the driver. "That's the house over there." He indicated THE PERSIAN TASSEL 141 the dingy frame building directly in front of us. I immediately recognized it as the one I had seen the two men entering the day I followed them from the tavern. "Wait for me," I said, as I entered the iron gate. Recalling that the men I had followed from the tavern had gone into the house through the basement, I decided to do likewise, so I de- scended the rickety stairway. A dim light shone through the iron bars of a cellar window. I shuddered at the thought that Janet Negley was there. Going down a long flight of steps, I at last reached the bot- tom, where a space about fifteen feet square directly faced the door. It was so dark I could not find the bell, and I ran my hand over the surface of the door, feeling for a knocker or for some means of making my presence known. I could find nothing, so I began to beat upon the door with my clenched fist. I waited three minutes five minutes but not a sound came from the interior. I knocked again with all my might, and this time the door was opened to me. A large, stupid-looking German woman stood before me. "I wish to speak to Dr. Bennett and the 142 THE PERSIAN TASSEL young girl he brought here this evening," I said firmly, stepping into the dark hall. "Sie sind nicht hier." "Not here!" I had entered the hall and I pushed the woman to one side angrily. "Not here!" "Sie sind nicht hier," persisted the woman stolidly. "Sie kamen hier heute Abende, aber sie sind jetz fort." I demanded to be shown through the ad- joining room. It was evidently a bedroom and sitting-room combined ; for there were two beds and a cot while a wooden rocker and a round table occupied the center of the room. The next room was a kitchen. A dim gas-jet threw an indistinct glow throughout the dirty apartment. A third room, to the left of the kitchen, attracted my attention. The door was closed. I walked over and threw it wide open. The room was vacant. An iron bed and one chair comprised its entire furnishings. The woman followed me around in a dazed manner, giving no information and asking no questions. She could scarcely speak English although she seemed to understand it quite well. Finally I managed to ascertain this much: Bennett himself had not been there THE PERSIAN TASSEL 143 that evening, but the girl and a man had been there and had left shortly afterward. "Are they coming back to-night?" I asked. The woman looked at me blankly and I knew she had not understood. "Will they come back again, back here to this room? I re- peated. "Nein," she answered, shaking her head. I was now convinced of the woman's sin- cerity. They would not return. "Where did they go?" I questioned, gesticu- lating toward the door to make my query clear. "Nein, nein," answered the woman, with ex- asperating repetition. I put a coin in her hand, and left. Jump- ing into the taxicab, I called to the driver : "To the Central Station." I had not realized until I sat back in the cab and relaxed my tense nerves what a hopeless mission I had undertaken in trying to find Janet and her abductors. I had been very hopeful until I had entered the house on Twelfth Street. There my hopes had been shattered. That Bennett or his accomplice would bring Janet Negley to that squalid re- sort was inconceivable. But Bennett was evi- dently desperate, and had lost all sense of honor and manhood. 144 THE PERSIAN TASSEL Janet was unconscious or ill, so the drug clerk had said, when they came to the store. They had evidently drugged her. The prescription calling for morphine was an unique clue, inasmuch as the ingredients were so powerful that only one accustomed to the constant use of the drug could take the amount prescribed. Bennett was not a drug fiend, but possibly one of his accomplices was; or the presentation of the prescription might have been merely a ruse to enable them to carry the supposedly sick girl into the phar- macy while they telephoned for a taxicab. Bennett had been at one time a practicing physician. The more I thought over the situ- ation the more agonizing was my anxiety, and I was in a fearful state of apprehension when we drove up before the station. I found I had ten minutes to wait before catching a train for Shetland. I walked about the spacious waiting-room, impatiently looking at my watch, then at the station timepiece. One minute two minutes would the time never pass? I wanted to be off. Shetland was an ade- quate place of hiding. The large vacant house was just the place, and I felt sure the idea would come to Bennett as it had to me. I THE PERSIAN TASSEL 145 wanted to go to Shetland, yet I feared to go; for if they were not there, I would simply have wasted so much time. It was now twelve- thirty, and it would be after one o'clock before I could reach Shetland. Remembering the letter addressed to Phyllis Downs, I took it from my pocket and looked at the writing. This was the letter Janet had meant to mail. Janet had probably written to Phyllis of her expectation to return to Shet- land immediately. The letter should be mailed. Crossing the waiting room, I dropped it into a box, then hurried out through the gate and boarded my train. The Talmar residence, weird in its desola- tion, gleamed specter-like in the broad street as I approached. All at once as I stood there facing the house it seemed to me that a hazy, misty form, crouched and bent, emerged upon the porch. It was the form of Dr. Talmar, old and decrepit, with a hypnotic gleam in his eyes. In a daze, I swayed slightly, then straightened myself resolutely and looked again. The hallucination had vanished. I was actually alarmed, not by what I had seen or thought I had seen, but by the char- acter of that malady that the vision suggested. I must certainly be suffering from nervous ex- 146 THE PERSIAN TASSEL haustion. The vision lasted scarcely more than a second, yet I found myself trembling perceptibly and my forehead was clammy with a cold perspiration. I knew it was simply a fantasy, evoked by mental exhaustion and worry, so I thrust the incident from me and ascended the steps of the porch. The front door was locked, as was also the door of the doctor's office. I tried to raise each one of the windows in succession, but they were all securely fastened. I could have easily made an entrance through the de- molished part of the doctor's laboratory, but I did not care to pick my way through the debris scattered about. Vaulting over the porch railing at the side, I ran around to the rear of the house. A win- dow leading into the pantry was unlocked, and I crawled through the small opening. Jumping to the pantry floor, which my feet struck with a heavy thud, I clutched at the side of the sink in order to balance myself. A noise like the shuffling of feet in the room above came to me, and I stood quietly with one hand upon the side of the sink and the other at my ear; but the noise had ceased. The shades in the house had all been drawn, THE PERSIAN TASSEL 147 so the rooms were very dark. I could not see in the gloom about me, but with the aid of my hands I began to feel my way to the back stairs which I knew must lead up from the kitchen. Again the sound from above reached my ears; but this time it was less distinct, as if the person were walking around the rooms in the front part of the house. I at last put my hand upon a closed door. I opened it slowly, but it creaked ominously. Holding my breath in suspense, I pushed the door open inch by inch, wider and wider ; and each time it seemed that the creaking became more resonant. At length I threw the door clear back to the wall. Kneeling on the floor and passing through the doorway, I found a flight of steps that as- cended. I arose again and accidentally leaned against the door; it creaked loudly. Immedi- ately the sound above ceased. Evidently the person had heard the noise. I listened for a few moments, removed my shoes, and proceeded slowly up the stairs. I could not see my hand before me, and I knew absolutely nothing of the interior of that part of the house. Otherwise I would have been able to make more progress, but under the cir- 148 THE PERSIAN TASSEL cumstances I had to feel my way carefully for fear of falling headlong over some unforeseen obstacle. I crept up the stairs slowly on my hands and knees. When near the top I stopped to listen. A creaking of shoes very near me attracted my attention. Some one was evidently descend- ing the front stairs with cautious steps. Without giving the subject further thought I bounded up the few remaining stairs and groped my way along the wall of the upper hall. Suddenly my hand came in contact with an electric button. Instinctively I pressed it and at once the hall was flooded with light. Touching another button close to the first one the down-stairs light flashed up also. I heard the turning of the knob of the front door. Running down the front stairs, I was just in time to see the figure of a man as he made a hurried exit. He slammed the door in my face, vaulted the porch, and started to run. I ran after him, but he disappeared in the dark- ness. The man was the consumptive-looking fellow I had followed from the tavern to the house on Twelfth Street. Entering the house again, I searched it thor- oughly from garret to cellar. With the aid of the electric lights I was enabled to take in every THE PERSIAN TASSEL 149 detail, but I discovered neither Janet, her ab- ductors, nor any clue of value. The drawers in two of the rooms had been ransacked; they were wide open and the contents were scattered over the floor. Evidently the fellow's purpose was to steal. I could not tell how much had been taken, but everything in the bedroom and library was in disorder. What were the man's plans? Was his er- rand nothing but theft ? I felt that I had been foolish in not pursuing him, and that had I been quicker and less cautious I might have trapped him in some way. Then I could have made him confess by threatening him with the police. But I was not armed, and no doubt he was. To waste more time in Shetland, I decided, would be foolish. Janet's abductors would not bring her here now, even if they had planned to do so, since one of the men knew the house was occupied. I hardly dared to think of Janet Negley or what might have befallen her. I must find her. Intuitively I felt that it was possible. There was no use to torture myself with doubts. The word "fail" I would not con- template. No such word existed for me, and I would prove it. The dread of failure flashed 150 THE PERSIAN TASSEL through my mind, but I thrust it from me; it was like a corrosive drug in its intensity, and I felt my throat tighten at the mere thought. Entering the kitchen, I replaced my shoes, and made another search through the rooms. Finally I turned out the lights, and left the house. I waited an hour for my train, and put in part of the time walking up and down the platform of the little station. I was the only passenger to board the train at Shetland, and that annoyed me greatly ; secretly I had hoped for the companionship of the consumptive- looking fellow in whom my poor overwrought brain had discerned a psychic vision of the de- ceased Dr. Talmar. I disliked the idea of leaving the fellow behind. It was now three-thirty. I had been in Shetland two hours, and had caught the last train until morning. CHAPTER XII A LETTER IT was just a quarter to five when I passed through the Central Station waiting-room. There were a few people scattered here and there; some were asleep on benches, others were walking impatiently about glancing now and then at the big clock above. I stopped at a restaurant and got a cup of black coffee and a sandwich. I found I could not eat, but with an effort I managed to swallow the coffee. It greatly invigorated me. Leaving the dining-room, I walked through the station, hunting for the telephone booth. Seeing one at the left end of the opposite en- trance, I hurried in and called the Bennett residence. After about five minutes a woman answered. It was the landlady. "Miss Bennett is not up yet," she said sleep- iiy. I told her to call Miss Bennett at once say- ing that Mr. Powell wished to see her on im- 151 152 THE PERSIAN TASSEL portant business and would come to see her about six o'clock. She promised to deliver the message and I left the telephone. At the appointed time, to the minute, I was sitting in the parlor of the Bennett home. It was fifteen minutes before Vi entered, and when she did we both exclaimed simultane- ously : "Where is Janet?" "You haven't found her, Clarke? Tell me! Oh, it is dreadful! Where can she be? I cried myself to sleep last night," went on Vi, in a breathless tone of anxiety. She talked fast and I could scarcely understand her. Her articulation was indistinct and her man- ner excited. All at once she sat up straight, then put her hand to her cheek and leaned over toward me, placing her other hand upon my arm mys- teriously. Her voice had sunk to a whisper and the hand upon my arm trembled percep- tibly. "Clarke," she began, this time more calmly, "there were burglars in this house last night. At first I was so shocked that you had not found Janet that I forgot to tell you." "How do you know?" "My room and Walt's are in a perfect mud- dle; drawers are turned inside out and the THE PERSIAN TASSEL 153 closets ransacked. Nothing has been taken. My watch is still on the dresser, and Walt's studs and several valuable stick pins are still in his room, while the drawers are open and the contents scattered over the floor. Isn't it strange they didn't take anything?" "Where is Bennett?" I asked abruptly. "Down at the Club, I suppose. He didn't sleep at home last night nor the night before. He 'phoned and inquired about Janet after you left I think it was near eleven o'clock." "When did you first discover that some one had been in your rooms?" I asked, thinking hard. I was trying to connect the attempted robbery in some way with Janet's strange dis- appearance, for I intuitively knew there was a connection. "Does your landlady know any- thing about the burglary?" "No, I don't think she does, unless she has been to our rooms since I came down. She knocked at my door about half -past five, and it was then that I made the discovery. I hur- ried my dressing, intending to inform her at once, but you came. You are the first one I have told." "Vi," I said reflectively, "I don't believe I would say anything about this. If nothing 154 THE PERSIAN TASSEL has been stolen nothing can be gained by giv- ing the matter publicity." "But don't you think it strange, Clarke?" "Not nearly so strange as Janet's disappear- ance," I replied with some bitterness. "Oh, poor Janet! Where do you think she can be? Haven't you found any trace of her yet, Clarke? I can't understand it. What in the world could have happened to her?" I told her of my visit to Shetland, of the mysterious midnight intruder, and of the strange happenings at the drug store; but I said nothing about the prescriptions having been presented by a man whom I believed to be her brother. I kept that part of the affair to myself. Vi listened with a tense expression to my story, interrupting me now and then to ask a question, while she held her hands nervously clasped as if trying to command herself. "Oh, Clarke!" she exclaimed, when I had finished my story, "it does look as if Janet had fallen into the hands of some desperate character. What are you going to do now? Can't I be of some help? I will 'phone Walt and the three of us will start out this morning." She arose, but I detained her with a word. "Don't! Wait; let me think. Yes, Vi; it THE PERSIAN TASSEL 155 would be better for me to see Walt first. I'll go straight to the Club from here ; he will not be at his office this early in the morning. It would simply be a waste of time to 'phone him. Vi, you can be of little use, for this is a man's business and it takes a man to handle it." "Why not report the case to the police, Clarke?" "No, I would rather see what I can do my- self first. Dr. Talmar's death brought Janet so much notoriety that if we can handle this affair quietly it will be much better; but, of course, if I fail to find her within the next twenty-four hours there will be nothing left for us to do but inform the police. I do not want to do it sooner." "Possibly you are right. Anyway, I know that you and Walt, working together, can surely find some trace of her. You have al- ready found out a great deal in learning that she has been abducted. It is a horrible thought, and I dare not dwell upon it, Clarke." "If I do not call you up by noon, you may know I have not been successful and am still on the trail. Otherwise I shall advise you at once. I'll drop in on Walt at the Club on my way to town ... I believe I would say nothing at all about the robbery here last night. 156 THE PERSIAN TASSEL If your landlady knew she might insist upon informing the police. In that case something might develop to prevent my finding Janet." "You think there is some connection between this attempted burglary and Janet's abduc- tion?" "Yes," I answered; "decidedly some connec- tion." I learned at the Club that Bennett had not been there since the previous night. As there seemed to be nothing else to do until I talked with him, and as I knew I would not find him at his office so early, I entered the Imperial Hotel, bought a morning paper, and ran my eyes over the headlines, hoping to find some reference to the Talmar tragedy. There was nothing, however. Being unable to concentrate my mind for any length of time, I threw aside the paper. I was so nervous that I felt the necessity of taking some sort of stimulant, so I bought a strong, black cigar. As I started to leave a man came out of the cafe at the left. He was coming my way, and I went forward to meet him, puffing furiously at my cigar. "Bennett!" I ejaculated, extending my hand. He looked at me in surprise for a mo- ment, then I said; THE PERSIAN TASSEL 157 :< I was just at the Club inquiring for you." "You are a rather early bird," he remarked. "So I am, but how about yourself? It is just seven- thirty," pulling out my watch. "Yes; and I have not been to bed at all, Powell. I have been hunting for Janet Neg- ley." I was startled and must have shown my sur- prise, for he added: "You knew she was lost?" I recovered myself with an effort. "Knew she was lost ! Man, you talk idiotically. I've spent the whole night hunting for her, in Shetland and everywhere else." I spoke bitterly, at the same time never tak- ing my eyes from his face. He was calm and confident ; I was the reverse. His declaration, "I've been hunting for Janet Negley," rang in my ears; everything else seemed muffled, indistinct. Bennett was a shrewd one; why had he not waited for me to speak of Janet ? "I want to have a talk with you, Walt," I said pointedly. "Naturally. Where shall we go to my office, or your rooms?" "One is as distant as the other," I responded. "Let's get a room here." 158 THE PERSIAN TASSEL "Why so much secrecy? Won't the lobby do? No one is about." "No, not here; but we might go to the par- lor." "All right," he replied. We had no more than entered the door of the drawing-room above when I turned and thrust the copies of the two prescriptions in his face. I said nothing, but stood watching his expression. He turned as white as al- abaster, his hands trembling as he held the paper. He read them hastily, then looked up at me, saying: "Where did you get these?" The color was gradually returning to his cheeks, yet I could see he was still greatly moved. His hands were still shaking, and it was evident that he was holding his emotions in check by a powerful effort of the will. "You know where I got them. The ques- tion is superfluous." His anger was rising little by little ; his eyes snapped and his hands were clenched as he turned from me and gazed reflectively out the window. But he made no response, and I walked impatiently up and down the room, afraid that I might say too much in my grow- ing agitation. THE PERSIAN TASSEL 159 Finally he turned toward me. It was too late; my anger had overcome me, and I stood facing him haughtily. "Where is Janet Neg- ley ? You know and you have got to tell me." "Clarke! Clarke!" he exclaimed. "Come to your senses, man. What do you mean?" He had straightened himself, and was looking at me unflinchingly. I gazed at him searchingly, then dropped my eyes. I had accused my friend of dis- honor; the thought was appalling, yet I never wavered in my intentions. I must get a con- fession of some sort, regardless of the conse- quences. The girl was too dear to me, my altruistic friendship for him had ceased to live; and in its place was a feeling of enmity. He must have divined my feelings. Yet in spite of my conviction of his guilt I could not accuse him outright again; the words would not come to my tongue. Nor could I explain in detail my doubts of his integrity. "Where is Janet Negley?" I asked again dramatically, my voice tense and husky. "Tell me that much and I will leave at once." He came and placed his hand on my shoul- der, but I thrust him from me angrily, saying: "Do not touch me. Answer my question and I will go." 160 THE PERSIAN TASSEL Looking into my eyes with as clear and hon- est a gaze as I have ever seen in any man, he answered slowly: "Powell, in God's name, I do not know!" I whirled around as if I had been shot, stag- gered to the window where Walt had laid the prescriptions, thrust them into my pocket, and rushed headlong from the room. I thought I heard Walt call me as I left, but the sound was indistinct, for a buzzing was in my ears and a mad surging in my head. When I reached the street I felt so ex- hausted that I knew I would have to have some sleep and rest before I could become equal to the task of continuing the search for Janet Negley. Boarding a car, a half-hour later I reached my rooms and threw myself upon the bed where I soon fell asleep. At four I was awakened by the creaking of my unlocked door. A boy had placed my mail upon the table, and I saw him just as he was leaving. "Who is it?" I called, sitting up quickly and passing my hand over my eyes to shield them from the bright light which was shining in the front window. "I guess I scared you," laughed the boy. "It's only your mail, sir." THE PERSIAN TASSEL 161 I glanced through it quickly, bills, a cir- cular, some returned short-story manuscripts; then came an envelope addressed in a hand- writing that made my heart beat furiously. It was identical with the handwriting I had seen upon the letter in the telephone booth. Tearing it open, I read: Dear Mr. Powell: I have bribed the woman in whose care I am placed to mail this note to you. I am held a prisoner here; come for me at once. The address is 1486 Twelfth Street. As ever, JANET. The address on the envelope was simply Washington Square. Janet did not know the number of my house, and it was a miracle that the note had reached me without some delay. Still, my name must have become quite well known to the postman, who had car- ried back and forth so many manuscripts for me. I now felt thankful for that. Within fifteen minutes I was speeding along toward Twelfth Street. The woman had lied to me about the party's not coming back there. Perhaps Janet had been there at the very time of my visit, hidden away in some secret place. It seemed that every one had lied to me, and 162 THE PERSIAN TASSEL Bennett's words came to me again, "Powell, in God's name, I do not know!" Something had snapped within me at that moment; and now I knew what it was, the loyal feeling of friendship that had endured so long. All this, however, was of the past. I would rescue Janet; I would see her; I would be with her again, and she would be safe with me. All else was as nothing. People might lie, steal, or murder; but what cared I? My heart's desire was at hand. Selfishness was at last growing within me. I could mark its increase day by day. My nineteen hours of suspense seemed like a dream in which I had walked hazily in a maze of mystic illusions, some fantastic, others ab- horrent. A feeling of happiness came to me as I entered the house on Twelfth Street. A mo- ment more and I would see her, and my arms ached to clasp her tightly to my heart. I knocked at the door, but I was too impatient to wait for a response; so I turned the knob and entered. The German woman came toward me from the kitchen. "I have come for the young lady," I said. THE PERSIAN TASSEL 163 The woman turned to a cabinet, lifted a china saucer, and brought forth a letter which she handed to me. It was from Janet, saying that she was being liberated by her abductors, and that I might find her at Shetland. I thanked the woman and thrust a bill into her hand as I left. I called up Vi to let her know, but she told me that Janet had come directly there from Twelfth Street, and that she had let her have sufficient money to reach Shetland. Arriving at the Talmar house my ring was answered by Phyllis. I immediately started in to question her about her mistress, was she ill, what time had she come home? Phyllis had received the letter I had mailed at the Central Terminal Station by the first morn- ing's mail, and had come at once to the Tal- mar residence to put things in order for her mistress. She knew nothing whatever of the abduction. "I'll call Miss Janet," she said, as I entered the parlor. When Janet came in her pallor was deathly. The grayish hue of her skin and the sickly look of her eyes showed plainly the effects of the morphine. I clasped her two small moist hands in mine, drawing her to me. She 164 THE PERSIAN TASSEL yielded languidly, and I kissed her reverently on the forehead, gazing deep into her sweet eyes. We had not spoken, but I felt as if I were looking into her very soul, and what I saw there made my heart glad. "Janet! Janet!" I cried, lifting her face so that I could see her eyes clearly. "Oh, how you have suffered! Are you able to tell me all about it, or would you rather wait until you are stronger? Do not speak of it if it distresses you. I can wait for the details, now that you are safe." "I really have nothing to tell," she replied in a weak tone as she released herself from my embrace and walked slowly over to the lounge, "except that I was deathly sick the morning after I was taken away. I realized then that I had been drugged." "Could you describe the man or men who first attacked you?" "No, I did not see them. I have never seen them him, rather for I believe there was only one. I was walking to the corner to mail a letter when suddenly I was seized and a bandage placed over my eyes and nose. I must have fainted with fright, for I can re- member no more until about one o'clock when I came to consciousness in the back room of THE PERSIAN TASSEL 165 that house on Twelfth Street. I was very ill, and the German woman who cared for me was kind and motherly. She heard me crying with pain, and administered something that relieved me somewhat. I tried to get her to release me at once, but she seemed afraid of some one. She treated me kindly and later agreed to mail a letter if I would write it. This I did, and in an hour I was free. A man came to the house, talked with the woman, and just after he left she said I might go. I had given all my money to the woman for mailing the letter, so I went first to Vi's. She insisted on my staying there, but I wanted to come home. To my surprise, Phyllis was here, and everything ready for my return. And I was thinking all the time that I had never mailed the letter I had written to her." "I posted it for you, dear, that night." "You posted it for me?" she exclaimed. "How did you get it?" I told her the story, just as I had related it to Vi, leaving out my suspicions of Ben- nett's connection with the affair. I told her of my midnight search for her in Shetland, of the mysterious man who had been in the house, and of all the happenings of the past two days. 166 THE PERSIAN TASSEL "Yes," she answered; "Phyllis has told me that some one had been in the house, for every- thing was upset from top to bottom." "That same night the Bennett home was robbed," I continued. Janet sat gazing across the room into va- cancy. I thought she had not heard what I had said, so I repeated the statement. Still she did not move. I went over to the lounge and sat beside her. "Janet," I said softly. "Yes, Mr. Powell," she replied quietly. "Don't be so distant, so formal, Janet. Don't call me Mr. Powell, please." And I took one of her hands in order to enforce my pleading. "Just as you say, but it is difficult to say anything else. Still if it will please you, I will try." "Wouldn't it please you, Janet?" "I hardly know what to say, Mr. " "Don't you dare," I interrupted. "Say Clarke." "Well, then, Clarke; now you are satisfied, Mr. Vanity?" "You don't mean that, Janet?" "Well, you want a compliment, do you not?" THE PERSIAN TASSEL 167 "From you, yes. Now tell me what you were thinking about a few minutes ago/' "You are impudent, Clarke." "Not at all; just inquisitive. Apparently you were not even listening to what I said." "Appearances sometimes deceive," she re- plied. "You did hear me, then?" "Yes, decidedly. You said the Bennett home had been robbed." "You have a theory in regard to it, or were you thinking of something else, Janet?" "I have a theory yes; but I do not want to tell it." "Why not?" "For personal reasons." "Of any consequence?" "They might be to you. One can never tell." "Is it a secret?" "Yes." "Is this a game of questions and answers?" I asked. "It seems so. But you are doing all the questioning, Clarke." "Yes, and I am not through yet. When are you going to marry me? Answer that question, and I will be satisfied." 168 THE PERSIAN TASSEL "I can't tell. There are difficulties that make it impossible for me to say." "You love me, Janet?" "Now you are getting too personal. I shan't answer another question." "But I am serious, Janet. If you don't give me some hope I shall go mad." Her eyes softened as she looked at me, and her mood changed at once. "My poor Clarke," she said seriously. "But love I believe it to be a flower of slow growth, and I have known you such a little while." "It is no such thing. I used to think that, too; but I know better." "Oh, I know it is so with me. You have your theory and I have mine, so why talk of love at all?" "Because I can't think of anything else. I have thought of nothing but you since the first time I saw you. I was crazy when I found you again. Oh, Janet, to think of your stay- ing in that horrible dirty place on Twelfth Street!" "Yes, but it wasn't as dirty as you imagine. I was treated very well; my food was whole- some and clean; and, all in all, I was not as badly situated as you think. My being drugged was the one dark side to my adven- THE PERSIAN TASSEL 169 ture. The poor German woman was really a lovely character. She was a widow who took in men boarders for a living, a good, wholesome creature, and I shall never forget her kind treatment of me. But Clarke, dear, you have been here long enough and well, you must go." "What was that word you said after my name, just then?" I asked, placing my arm around her waist. "Repeat it, just as you said it before." "I can't remember," she answered evasively. "You are a tease, Janet, and I am afraid my heart will be dreadfully hurt sometime. Oh, but it is happiness to know you are safe at last," I said, as I rose. "'But I want my answer; when will you marry me?" "You shall have it now, Clarke. I do not know." "But why, Janet? What is to prevent us from marrying at once?" The color mounted to her cheeks. "I have reasons, Clarke. Is not that sufficient? There are reasons, reasons connected with the death of my father, that make it abso- lutely impossible for me to give you your answer." "At least I can hope, Janet?" 170 THE PERSIAN TASSEL "If you wish; but I cannot say how long it may be before I can tell you. Clarke, it may never be." CHAPTER XIII ADDED COMPLICATIONS I HAD found Janet Negley, but I seemed no nearer winning her than I had been be- fore. That the reason for this was something connected with the death of her father was now plain to me, and this realization threw me into a state of morbid reflection. Pulling from my pocket the Persian tassel, I gazed at it reflectively. A thing so small and in- significant to cause so much trouble, I mused, yet I loved it because it was hers. I left the Talmar home with a feeling of de- pression weighing on my heart, a feeling different from any I had ever experienced be- fore or since my meeting with Janet Negley. While hunting for her I had been worried, agonizingly worried, about her safety; now, possibly the reaction had caused the change, I felt hopeless and utterly despondent. Janet was connected in some way with the death of her father. She had practically ad- mitted it by refusing to give me a definite an- 171 1T2 THE PERSIAN TASSEL swer. I knew that she cared for me; there- fore there must be some vital cause for her strange conduct. As the days passed and I became more and more in love with Janet I became accustomed to the thought of Bennett's degeneracy; and it worried me less and less. His strange be- havior, I decided, was the natural result of his having become the slave of morphine. In no other way could I account for his fallen manhood. But with Janet safe at home out of his power, I could now drop the thought of him entirely from my mind. Bennett and I had quarreled ; I believed I would never speak to my friend again. Our ways of life had parted forever. I was indulging in these reflections in the solitude of my room two days after Janet's strange liberation. In the meantime I had called at Shetland frequently, using all my powers of persuasion in a futile effort to per- suade her to marry me at once. She stub- bornly refused, goading me to the thought that she never intended to marry me at all. I had thought over the whole situation until I felt that if I did not concentrate my mind upon something else, I should go mad. Reaching for a book upon the table, I found THE PERSIAN TASSEL 173 it to be one I had recently taken from the library and forgotten in my worry over Janet's abduction. It was "The Rosy Dawn," by Douglas White. Two hours later I leaned my head against the back of the chair, with closed eyes, the book on my knees. The vividness and the beauty of the romance had fairly intoxicated me. It was a fantastic tale, intensely romantic, and as I read I was carried as it were into a land of dreams, wandering with the two lovers through their world of light and laughter. I had been lulled by the exquisite cadence of musical words and I too had entered the un- real world where the two lovers dwelt; I too was under the spell of its soft atmosphere; I too lived where only love is life. And this had been done by the author's charm of ex- pression, by the delicacy of his perceptions. The man's very soul seemed to be printed upon the pages. The writer of this book was a literary genius. I would never rest until I could know him. A knock at the door aroused me and I has- tened to open it. The editor of Hammond's Magazine entered. "Good afternoon, Mr. Moultrie," I said. "Won't you have a seat?" 174 THE PERSIAN TASSEL Ignoring my invitation, he stood facing me silently; there was suppressed anger in his voice when he did speak. "Mr. Powell," he said, "I think you owe me an explanation." "An explanation?" "Yes. How can you explain this?" And he thrust a magazine into my hands. I glanced at it and recognized the Favorite Magazine. "What's the trouble?" I stammered. "Turn to page fourteen and you will see. Possibly your memory is poor." There was a story on the page. "The Ab- duction" was the title, and underneath I saw my name. "I never wrote that," I protested angrily. "You did not?" "No; I never saw the story before." "You may not have seen it before, but you will be a long time forgetting it, Mr. Powell. That story is yours, and if you think you can deceive me in this manner you are greatly mis- taken. The introductory chapter and main plot are identical with the first installment of the serial you sold us. With the exception of the viewpoint and shifting of characters, the theme is the same. The doctor's story is yours, word for word, and you need not tell me you didn't write it. True, the title is dif- ferent, and the denouement; still the main story is a steal, and we will not publish any- thing but original material. I have a case against you, and I am going to see it through. You are an unreliable and unprincipled fel- low." I was so dumbfounded that I could not speak; but if I had spoken he probably would not have heard me, his wrath had so mastered him. "What kind of a magazine do you think we publish?" he raged. "You received a good price for that story, and it is now in the hands of the printer. This affair will delay next month's issue. We must necessarily drop your story. A great mess you have made of things, and I had thought you were a respon- sible author!" "I tell you, Mr. Moultrie, I know absolutely nothing about this story in the Favorite Mag- azine." He laughed sarcastically. "You did not write it? When your name is attached to it? Man, how do you dare to make such an as- sertion?" "I do dare, for I did not write the 176 THE PERSIAN TASSEL story," I repeated. "I know nothing about it. Bennett is evidently using my name, for I had refused to give him a story for this month's issue. In desperation he has done this." "That may sound well, but your logic is poor. How is it that your stories are so sim- ilar, especially the account of the doctor? Your fabrication is not very clever, Mr. Powell." Again he gave a satirical laugh as I stood dazed before him. "Mr. Moultrie, the situation is a grave one for me," I said finally. "I would dislike very much to be brought into a suit with you or any other editor, and I can only reiterate my innocence of any wrong-doing. I fear you would not understand me if I told you what little I do know of why the stories are so sim- ilar. I would like to make myself right with you, but unless you believe what I have told you I am defenseless'." He walked up and down the room as if re- flecting, then turned to me again. "I will compromise with you, on one condition." "Say it," I replied, my heart fairly stopping with alternate hope and doubt. "Get me a story at once written by Doug- las White, and I will drop the matter entirely." THE PERSIAN TASSEL 177 "I cannot do that," I said almost in a whis- per, my hopes entirely shattered. "Yes, you can, Mr. Powell." "How? Tell me!" "Walter Bennett is your friend and he can give you a story by Douglas White; or at least he knows his address." "What makes you think that?" "Why, use your brains. Bennett got this story from him gratis," he said, picking up the copy of the Favorite Magazine, which I had thrown upon the table. "Do you suppose he is giving his stories away to an editor he doesn't even know, especially when his magazine is of doubtful merit ? No ! That is highly improb- able. Bennett can get a story, and you are the only one whom Bennett would favor in this way. He owes it to you as compensation, if what you say about his using your name is true. On that point I am skeptical; but I don't care how you get the story, just so you get it and at once. Otherwise I shall bring suit against you. It is a straightfor- ward proposition. I have paid you for a story that we cannot use. It was presented and ac- cepted under false pretenses; ostensibly it was original fiction, never published before. I think I am fair in showing you a way 178 THE PERSIAN TASSEL to make amends for your wrong-doing. Whether you are guilty or not will have to be determined by the law, unless we settle the matter quietly in the manner I have named." "This story is not like mine," I remarked, looking up from the magazine, which I had been hastily scanning. "It is different in many ways, in style, technique, viewpoint, why, even the characters are absolutely dis- tinct from mine." I was beginning to get angry but only angry with Bennett for having got me into such a predicament. "The plot is the same," he declared stub- bornly. "That is the important part. What will you do about my suggestion of a com- promise?" "I will try to get a story from Douglas White if Bennett will tell me of his where- abouts. How much time will you give me?" "Forty-eight hours. I must have the manuscript in the printer's hands by this time day after to-morrow." "And if not " I asked breathlessly. "I shall bring suit against you, Mr. Powell. I am sorry, but unless we editors protect our- selves in such cases we would be constantly in trouble. You understand that as well as THE PERSIAN TASSEL 179 I do. My point of view is identical with that of every other publisher." His anger had subsided, and he appeared calm and more friendly. His hopes of getting a story by Douglas White had so changed his demeanor that he hardly acted like the man that had entered the room so short a time before. I even dared to put out my hand as he left. "I'll do my best to carry out your desires," I said as we shook hands good-naturedly. I was too impatient to read "The Abduc- tion" after Moultrie left, so I hurried out to Bennett's office. To my disappointment he was not in, and his assistant did not know when he would return. I waited an hour for him, my mind tortured with doubt. This final blow dealt by Bennett had staggered me, for it was a killing blow to my reputation as an author. He could not have done me a greater injury than to have used my name in prefer- ence to his own, which was unknown. It seemed to me that the whole world had changed. Yet here I was in Bennett's office, a place I had thought never to enter again. Well, he had to account to me for this last act of his, and I meant to force a compromise, even if I had to divulge my suspicions of his connection with the Talmar tragedy and the 180 THE PERSIAN TASSEL abduction of Janet Negley. Too nervous to sit quietly waiting for Bennett, I left the office, determined to find him. First I went to the Club, but he was not there. Then I tele- phoned to the Bennett home, but could get no answer, so went out there. The maid in- formed me that Mr. Bennett was out and that Miss Bennett had gone to Shetland that morn- ing to sperd the day with Miss Negley. I then went to an hotel frequented by Ben- nett, but he was neither in the lobby nor in the cafe. Leaving the hotel, I walked over to Broadway. The matinee audiences were just leaving the theaters, and I made my way with difficulty through the crowds. I must have walked about ten blocks when I saw a man who I thought looked familiar. Coming alongside him, I recognized him to be the large-boned fellow I had seen in the tavern and had later followed to the Twelfth Street house. I walked slowly behind him for a block, keep- ing him in view till I could formulate some plan to draw from him the part he had played in the abduction of Janet Negley. Why not stop him, detain him in some way, and call the police? But what charge could I make against him? I had no proof that he was connected with the abduction in any way. THE PERSIAN TASSEL 181 The clerk at the Euclid Pharmacy had seen only one man and that was Bennett ! Though I was certain that this fellow had taken a part in the affair, I could not prove it to the police ; so, dismissing my plan of detaining the fellow, I still kept my eyes upon him and never did I let him get more than a few yards ahead of me. I kept this up for several blocks, when without premeditation I walked up to him and touched his sleeve. He halted at once and looked searchingly at me as I asked : "Do you want to make some money?" "Naw; what yer givin' me?" he said in a coarse twang, rudely brushing my hand from his arm, and dodging into the crowds ahead. Quickly I darted after him, but concealed my- self from him by walking very near the build- ings. He glanced back now and then, but at last seemed satisfied that I was not follow- ing him and slowed down. He did not look around again, thinking he had lost me in the crowd. Seeing him stop at the corner of the Flat- iron Building, I hurried on and at length again confronted him. It was a good place to accost him, for too many persons were about for him to dare to cause a scene. I lost no 182 THE PERSIAN TASSEL time but walking straight up to him thrust a copy of Bennett's prescription into his face, and said in a low tone: "I don't mean you any harm, but if you move I will call the police. Answer me. What do you know about this?" The fellow stood like one hypnotized, look- ing down at the paper I held before him. The expression of his face never changed, and at once I had my doubts as to his knowing anything about the prescription. "What's your dope? I can't read." The fellow seemed sincere in his answer, and some- how I believed him. But I would try him further, so, pulling from my pocket the Per- sian tassel, I held it before his eyes. "If you tell me the truth about this, I prom- ise to let you go." I talked low and any one passing would have thought we were carrying on a friendly conversation. At the sight of the tassel he gave a start and a crafty look came to his eyes and he glanced nervously up and down the street. I began to fear he contemplated making a dash for liberty, but as he made no movement as if to go I waited until he was ready to an- swer. His first fleeting expression of fear had THE PERSIAN TASSEL 183 given place to a dry smile of feigned indif- ference. "Here, here; answer me," I urged. "What do yer want to know?" "I want to know what you know about the tassel and the death of Dr. Talmar? Answer me that, man, and I'll let you go; otherwise I'll call the police." The threat worked beautifully, for he spoke now in a low, hoarse whisper, "If it hadn't been for this yer tassel, Dr. Talmar would never have been murdered." Just as the words were spoken a man ac- cidentally knocked into me and my hat was thrown to the sidewalk. I reached down quickly and picked it up, then turned again to the fellow at my side. He was not there. He had vanished. CHAPTER XIV DOUBTS AND WORRIES WHAT impulse it was that made me turn and run up the street I cannot say. I suddenly found myself at the corner, stupidly peering from right to left, but I re- alized that in the excitement of flight I had lost the tassel; so I sped down the avenue, searching the pavement and jostling the crowd as I passed along. I found it lying just where I had dropped it in front of the Flatiron Building. It seemed as if I then drew my first breath since having become aware of the tassel's loss. Putting it back in my pocket, I half staggered along the street in a state of relief. The in- cident had obscured all else for the time being, and only now was the remembrance of the man's words brought again to my mind: "If it hadn't been for this yer tassel, Dr. Talmar would never have been murdered." The sentence echoed and reechoed through my mind as I blindly paced the crowded streets. 184 THE PERSIAN TASSEL 185 The occurrence had been so puzzling. It had all happened in a flash, the fellow's fear, his startling words, then his flight. "Pshaw! The scoundrel must have been joking with me. A man murdered for a tas- sel!" It was utterly absurd. The creature had simply lied in order to startle me and then get away. It was a quickly thought-out de- vice to fool me, and it had worked beautifully. Still, try as I might, I could not put away my uneasiness. His words were like a germ of the disease of doubt, with which simple con- tact was sufficient to infect and destroy the peace of mind of mortals, and the course of the malady could only be stopped by serious reflection. If what he had said were true, if the tassel were the motive for the murder, then Janet Negley was connected with the crime, for the tassel belonged to her. Thought led to doubt, and again I found myself reviewing Janet's story of the abduc- tion. She had given me no reason for the strange occurrence; in fact, she had rather evaded talking of it whenever I had brought up the subject for discussion. She seemed to be entirely in the dark as to any reason for the abduction. Was she sincere? Did she know why she had been abducted, or why her 186 THE PERSIAN TASSEL father had been murdered? She had claimed, however, to have a theory in regard to the at- tempted robberies at Shetland and the Ben- nett home, but would give me no inkling as to what it was. Yet I loved her none the less for all my doubts. Intuitively I felt that whatever might be her motive for concealing her knowl- edge of the matter it was justifiable and that her innocence must not be questioned, hard as it was to banish doubt in the face of so many complications. I writhed in an agony of un- certainty, and the present moment seemed darker than any before. Bennett's recent act that involved me in difficulties with Ham- mond's Magazine was the heaviest of all my troubles to bear. My love for Janet was superior to my doubts and fears, but my dead friendship for Bennett was a different matter. Satisfied of his complete unworthi- ness, I again resolved to drop him from my life forever. Lost in thought I forgot all about time until looking at my watch I was startled to find that it was half after five. I was invited to Shetland for dinner; I knew I would be late, so I telephoned to Janet before I caught the next train. THE PERSIAN TASSEL 187 Vi was with Janet on the porch when I reached the Talmar home an hour later. "I'm sorry I'm late," said I, apologetically. "It is unpardonable, I know; but I was detained." "Never mind; you need not apologize, Clarke," laughed Vi. "You are here now, and that is all we care about." Janet came forward and extended her hand. "Don't worry," she said. "You are not very late. Phyllis has not announced dinner yet. But suppose we go indoors now; the evening air is damp." And she turned toward the door. We followed her into the house, where, drop- ping leisurely down at the piano, she let her fin- gers fall on the keys, making a succession of ex- quisite chords ; then softly my favorite melody, Mendelssohn's "Spring Song," filled the room. I stood beside the piano, looking down at her hands as they touched the keys caressingly; and the dreamy strains stirred the soul of the lover that was slumbering within me. She glanced up at me with a smile, but the act was unconscious and her air seemed one of abstraction. Vi had left the room and Janet and I were alone. I stood raptly gazing at her slender form, at the exquisite contour of her white throat; at her arms, so soft and so beautifully modeled, and 188 THE PERSIAN TASSEL at the transparent whiteness of the skin through which the delicate blue veins showed faintly. Every nerve in my body tingled and cried out for her. Her presence intoxicated me, and I could feel the slow surge of passion mounting to my brain. It was all I could do to keep from dropping at her feet, and crying out in agony of longing and doubt: "Janet! Janet! Why won't you marry me? Is it the Persian tassel that is keeping us apart?" Instead of raving like a madman, however, I clenched my hands and said quite conven- tionally : "You play beautifully, Janet." Just then dinner was announced. I was so worried and preoccupied with de- pressing thoughts that I did not enjoy the meal. Janet seemed exceptionally gay, and both girls laughed and chatted about trivial subjects, while I must have shown the un- rest that beset me, for Vi turned to me, say- ing: "What's the matter, Clarke? You are about as bright as a rainy day." At this remark I tried to pull myself to- gether, and I laughingly responded, "One star in a company is sufficient." "Oh, you horrid man," replied Vi. "I'm sorry that I spoke." "Not at all," said Janet. "He meant that as a compliment. Didn't you, Clarke?" "Ask me no questions, and I '11 " "Never mind; please don't make it any worse. I am sufficiently rebuked as it is," in- terrupted Vi, quickly. After dinner Janet played and sang several songs while I chatted with Vi. Suddenly Vi interrupted her in the midst of a song by exclaiming dramatically : "Janet, Clarke is in trouble!" Janet stopped playing abruptly, turned toward us, and asked in an anxious tone : "Are you, Clarke?" "Oh, it is nothing of consequence, Janet. Vi is an alarmist, besides being something of a clairvoyant. I cannot recall having said any- thing about being in trouble." "But you are," persisted Vi. "Your own answer to Janet confirms it. There is some- thing wrong and you know it." I could see I had been caught in the mesh. Vi's keen perception was too much for me. "Tell us about it, Clarke," begged the girls in unison. "Well, the truth is that I am in trouble with 190 THE PERSIAN TASSEL the editor of Hammond's Magazine' 3 I said lightly, after a moment's hesitation. "I do not think it will amount to much, still it has so worried me that Vi has divined my mental con- dition. Bennett has put my name to a story he wrote and has issued his magazine this week in gala form. It seems that the plot of his story is similar to the one I had used in a story previously sold to Hammond's Magazine. Moultrie, the editor of Hammond's, has threat- ened to sue me in consequence. Now do you think this of enough importance to be called trouble, or to cause so much discussion?" I laughed in an effort to dispel their fears. "Oh, I am so sorry," exclaimed Janet, show- ing great anxiety. "Isn't there something you can do to settle matters satisfactorily? Why don't you refund the money to the editor and have him drop the suit?" I again laughed, this time heartily. "You don't know much about the professional eti- quette of magazines, Janet." "That is true. Father always said that I had about as much business ability as a flying- machine." "Well, Walt is at the bottom of the whole trouble," ejaculated Vi. "He should not have used your name," THE PERSIAN TASSEL 191 "He didn't mean any harm, Vi; it is partly my fault. I should have consulted him re- garding my plans to submit the story to an- other magazine. He's not to blame." "You say the stories are similar isn't that a strange coincidence?" asked Janet reflect- ively. "Yes; in one way it is. We both used your father's theory as the theme of the main plot. It was the germ of both stories." "Nevertheless, Walt is to blame," persisted Vi, "for he used your name without your knowledge or consent. I shall give him a good lecture." "No, no, Vi! Please don't do that. I I haven't said anything to him as yet," I stam- mered awkwardly. I could see that I had got myself into trouble by even mentioning the subject to the girls. "Oh, of course, I shan't tell him if you don't wish me to, but I thought that " "No," I interrupted again, "I wish you wouldn't mention it to him. I'll talk it over with him some time when we are alone." "But, Clarke, isn't there something you can do?" "Yes, there is a possibility of extricating my- self, but it is small. Moultrie will compromise 192 THE PERSIAN TASSEL with me on condition that I get him a story by Douglas White. Such a thing is laughable. He might just as well have asked me to save the Titanic,, it would have been about as easy." Vi arose, sauntered leisurely over to the piano, and started to play, while Janet seated herself beside me. "Well, the situation does look serious, doesn't it?" she said, placing the pillows comfortably at her back. "Yes, it does, in a way. You see if I am unable to secure this manuscript from Douglas White, Moultrie will proceed with the suit. My reputation as an author will be ruined ; the magazines will shun me, and I'll well, I'll probably have to dig coal for a living. The prospect is not alluring." "I am not a business woman, still it seems to me that there must be some other means of compromise." "No, Moultrie is bent upon getting a story by the new author, and will listen to no other terms. I'll get one for him, if I have to raid every editorial sanctum in New York City. The worst of the whole affair is that Moultrie has given me only forty-eight hours in which to find the fellow and get the story. Sometimes it seems to me that the thing is impossible." THE PERSIAN TASSEL 193 "Why didn't he give you a little more time?" "It is necessary to have the manuscript in the hands of the printers by to-morrow after- noon." Janet's face lighted up at this. "Well, then, Clarke, you have all day to-morrow, and you know one can accomplish a wonderful lot in twelve long hours. I wouldn't feel so hope- less." "Y'ou are decidedly optimistic, Janet; you are a positive inspiration. I am very deter- mined by nature you will realize this some day if not now and I mean to succeed in this matter. Isn't that optimism, too?" I laughed reassuringly, though I was in no laughing humor. Vi was still playing the piano, humming the words of a popular air, and her lips bore the faint outline of a smile. "Do stop that ridiculous piece, Vi!" ex- claimed Janet as if exasperated. Just then the bell rang, and Janet rose to go to the door. A man's voice was heard in the vestibule, then the door closed, and a few moments later Bennett entered the room. He looked straight at me. There was a per- ceptible pause, then with a slight smile upon his lips he turned from me and said: 194 THE PERSIAN TASSEL "I hope that I am not intruding, Janet." "You know you do not mean that, Mr. Ben- nett. It would be impossible for you to in- trude here." "Walt always needs reassurance; he's so timid, you know," laughed Vi. "Do sit down, Walt, and make yourself at home. I'm not ready to leave yet, besides I want you to hear Janet sing. She has such a wonderful voice." "Oh, with that inducement I shall certainly stay; but, by the way, Vi, bear in mind that our train is due to leave in just thirty-two min- utes." "Never mind the train," I interrupted, try- ing to join in the conversation with some sem- blance of ease, although it was hard to do in the face of all that had recently happened. "If I did not have a very important engage- ment at the office to-night, I would be glad to spend the whole evening listening to Miss Negley sing." He looked directly at me as he said this, with penetrating eyes and with a half-satirical smile wreathing his lips. I knew that he meant just what he said, and I could have killed him in my senseless jealousy. I would have answered, but Janet was at the piano beginning to play, so we sat in perfect silence, listening to her sweet voice, THE PERSIAN TASSEL 195 Bennett with his head bowed in dreamy re- flection, and I enraptured, gazing wistfully into space. Vi stood beside the piano turning the music. After several songs had been sung Vi left the room to put on her wraps. "May I see you later, Bennett?" I asked, after he had finished complimenting Janet's voice. "Will you be at your office about eleven-thirty?" "Yes," he replied; "I'll be at the office until midnight, anyway." "I'll leave here, then, on the 10:45 train, and come straight up to the office at once." We went with Vi and Bennett to the door, and while the girls chatted a moment on the porch I added a few explanatory words to Bennett. "I must speak to you on very urgent mat- ters, Bennett. If I should accidentally miss the 10:45 train, I wish you would wait for me." "It is quite unnecessary for you to miss the train, Powell. You have exactly one hour and twenty minutes in which to make it." I made no reply, for just then the girls joined us. "Let me get you a wrap, Janet, and we will sit out here on the porch," I said as soon as 196 THE PERSIAN TASSEL the others disappeared down the dark, shad- owy walk. . She agreed, slipped on a light coat, and we sat down in the swing. Yet now that we were alone it seemed to me that some barrier rose between us. She was at the farther end of the swing, lightly humming a tune, while I sat stiffly at the other. I felt that I must say something, but I did not know how to begin. She had such elusive ways that I did not seem to know how to approach again the subject of our marriage. She seemed to look through one, to dissect and analyze his unspoken thoughts. It was this power of keen penetra- tion that disturbed and disquieted me. Suddenly she stopped humming and leaned back against the swing, partly turning away from me and gazing into space with a wist- ful expression upon her upturned face. It seemed to me that she was vaguely smiling, with her eyes full of tears. And I had doubted this frail girl! As I looked at her I became enraged with myself for thinking such heresy. Youth and inno- cence were clearly stamped upon her, yet a de- sire to know to know the truth at once possessed me. I would not be at peace until I understood everything. I could feel the THE PERSIAN TASSEL 197 tassel in my pocket, and it seemed almost to burn through the flesh and into my heart be- neath. I was about to pull it from my pocket when the words came to my mind : "If it hadn't been for this yer tassel, Dr. Talmar would never have been murdered." The sentence rang in my ears, and I was conscious of nothing but the formless fancies that pursued one another through my unset- tled brain. The sentence made me feel strangely as if I were drifting alone upon the waters of an unquiet sea ; and I was afraid. My hand dropped from my pocket to my side. "You are exceptionally entertaining to- night, Clarke," said Janet, speaking for the first time since we had entered the swing. "It's true that I'm not talking very fluently, Janet. Pardon me if I have seemed preoc- cupied. Words are of little consequence; my happiness is in being with you." "But you are not happy, Clarke." "You know why." "Yes, yes," she repeated softly, looking out over the lawn with dreamy, wistful eyes. "Happiness is selfish; besides, it is not all of life," she added with a sigh. I noticed that her hand tightened around the rope of the swing. Her mood was hardly more cheerful 198 THE PERSIAN TASSEL than my own, which was governed by such depression as even her proximity could not dispel. Indeed, when the time came to leave her I was conscious of a greater sense of sad- ness than I had ever known. Exactly at the appointed time I reached Bennett's office but, to my astonishment, I found him in the hall preparing to leave. "Here, where are you going?" I called. "I can't talk to you, Powell. You mustn't detain me. I'll be back in about an hour." "No, you'll not go. I intend to talk to you now. You may go after you have heard what I have to say." "Powell, I can't, I tell you. I've had a tele- phone message " "I won't take but ten minutes of your time." "Well, if that's all, go ahead. Say it right here. I've locked the office and I'm not go- ing back there." "Then come back into the hall away from the elevator." He obeyed reluctantly, and I resumed: "You have published a story and used my name without authority. Your theme was the theory of Dr. Talmar. I wrote a story, using the same theme, and sold it to Hammond's. Now Moultrie has threat- ened me with a suit." THE PERSIAN TASSEL 199 Bennett raised his brows as if in astonish- ment. I paid no heed to this, but went on breathlessly: "He will compromise provided I get for him a manuscript by Douglas White. Now, look here, Bennett, what I think of your part in this complication can be left for some other time ; what I want of you now is a manu- script by that author. You know where I can locate him; I'm sure that you can, and so is Moultrie. Since you got me into this trouble, it is up to you to extricate me from it." He stood still in breathless astonishment, and when I had finished he placed his hand with a restraining gesture upon my arm, and said: "Clarke, I am innocent of any intentional wrong-doing. I did not know you had writ- ten such a story, nor did I think you would care if I put your name to mine. In God's name, man, believe me! As for Douglas White, I know no more about him than you do." "Don't tell me that, Bennett. I can stand anything but lies." My anger was rising. I could feel the blood mounting to my head. "Do you suppose I would refuse you his address if I knew?" He too was angry now, 200 THE PERSIAN TASSEL as I knew by the loud, hard tone of his voice. "I tell you I know nothing of the man's where- abouts. I am sorry, but I cannot help you out in this. If Moultrie had asked for any- thing else, I would have turned everything topsy-turvy to help you. I can't wait, Powell, to discuss it with you now. I'm in a hurry. But, on my honor as man to man, I assure you that I know absolutely nothing about Douglas White." He turned from me, stopped the elevator on its downward trip, and shot down the shaft. CHAPTER XV A SERIES OF SURPRISES I SPENT the following morning visiting every editorial sanctum in the city, but I could get no information as to Douglas White's identity or address. I was somewhat skeptical of the stories told by several of the editors in regard to the matter and there was one especially who I was convinced was aware of White's address, and on whom I wasted much time arguing with him desperately, trying every conceivable form of persuasion to learn his secret, but all to no avail. I was utterly hopeless when I left the last office. I felt that not only Bennett had lied to me, but that all the world had conspired to deceive me. Who could cope with it all? Bennett's prevarications were of less signifi- cance to me than those of the others, for I had gradually become accustomed to his false- hoods. What better could I expect of him, a man who had fallen so low? Of course, the morphine habit was the root of the evil ; it had 201 202 THE PERSIAN TASSEL created a new being. This man was not Wal- ter Bennett, the Walt Bennett I had known and loved since youth, but a fiend who had usurped the body of the man I once knew. Only the outward form remained. I was now exhausted, my head ached, my whole body was weary, my spirit was sick. I had walked a number of miles, and with each mile the hope of success had become less and less until it had died. I wanted rest, rest of body and of mind, so I went home. As I entered my room a number of letters on my table caught my eye. Mechanically I ex- amined them, and without interest I opened a large oblong envelope, without address, that chanced to be on the top of the pile. It con- tained a typewritten manuscript of about three thousand words, a short story. Its title was "Inspiration," and below the title was the name of the author, Douglas White. Too dazed to think, I stood like one petri- fied, holding the sheets with trembling fingers while the words burned like fire into my brain. Finally the full realization of what had hap- pened broke upon me, and a wave of happiness sent the blood tingling through my veins. "Miss Craig," I called up to the landlady, "may I see you for a moment, please?" THE PERSIAN TASSEL 203 "Yes, Mr. Powell," she replied, coming down the stairs and leaning against the banis- ters. "I wanted to inquire about my mail. I found a large envelope on my table, unad- dressed, and " "Oh, yes, Mr. Powell, a messenger brought it not more than fifteen minutes ago." "Was he a liveried messenger boy?" I waited breathlessly for her answer. "No, he was not. I took the letter from him. He appeared to be a common errand boy. Is there any trouble about it, Mr. Powell? You seem so overwrought." "Oh, no; I just wanted to get into communi- cation with him, if possible, that's all. Thank you, Miss Craig." I hurried back to my room and called up the editorial office of Hammond's Magazine. "I've got the story," were my first words to Moultrie as soon as he came to the tele- phone. "Can you send over for it? ... All right, any time will do. I shall leave it with my landlady, in case I go out. . . . Yes, I'm open for congratulations. I'll come over to see you in the morning. . . . No, not now; I'm too tired." It is strange how quickly one responds to 204 THE PERSIAN TASSEL emotion. I had simply been lifted from the depths of despair to the highest pinnacle of hope; and under its beneficent influence I grew to feel that my future was assured; that the barrier between Janet Negley and me would some day be broken down, and that there would be nothing more to keep us apart. For she loved me, or at least I had reason to believe that she did, and I loved her madly. It was easy enough to account for the mys- terious gift of the manuscript written by Douglas White. Bennett had undoubtedly thought over the seriousness of my situation and had decided to rectify the trouble for which he was responsible. To show him that I ap- preciated this kind act I would go to him at once and thank him from the bottom of my heart. So I hurried from the house, first, however, handing Douglas White's manuscript to the landlady, with instructions to give it to the boy who would call for it. I was in a happy state of mind as I walked up the street. Truly, I thought, luck had turned my way at last. I was almost like my old self again; and the sense of this return to the normal was soothing, for I realized that I had been bal- anced between madness and sanity for the past thirteen days. THE PERSIAN TASSEL 205 I was so absorbed in thought that I walked on regardless of distance or direction until at length I woke up to the fact that I was on Madison Avenue, nearly a mile out of my way. At first I thought of taking a car, but later determined to walk, as it was still early, and Bennett would not leave his office until six o'clock. Crossing the street, I came face to face with a man walking hurriedly in the opposite direc- tion. I looked up at him absently, and some- thing about the fellow arrested my attention. Turning, I caught up with him and tapped him on the shoulder. "Could I have a word with you?" I began as he turned and looked me straight in the eye. It was the consumptive-looking fellow I had followed to the Twelfth Street house, and the one who had entered the Talmar residence the night I searched it in quest of Janet Neg- ley. He looked at me closely, but evidently did not remember having seen me before. "I am a friend of Bennett's," I continued. The fellow started, as if in surprise, then seemed to be all attention. "If you will an- swer my question I'll give you any amount of money you ask, that is, any amount within reason." 206 THE PERSIAN TASSEL His expression changed, and his manner be- came suddenly cunning, alert. Yet, as he made no movement to leave, I felt reassured. I had drawn a roll of bills from my pocket when I had finished speaking. We were on a side street, just off Madison Avenue, and the man glanced from time to time up and down the street. Meanwhile he was eying the bills greedily. I began to fear he contemplated grabbing the money and running, so I held tightly to the roll in my hand, waiting for some word from him. "What's your question?" he asked at length. "If you will tell me what connection this tassel had with the murder of Dr. Talmar, I will give you this roll of bills." I drew out the tassel and held it up before him. At the sight of that bit of silk he started in fright, his face turned an ashy hue, and like one caught in a trap, he looked up and down the street as if calculating his chances of escape. I was becoming impatient, and feared he would get away from me as the other fellow had done, so I grabbed his arm and shook him, saying at the same time, to reas- sure him: "I don't mean you any harm. I simply want to know for personal reasons. I'm not THE PERSIAN TASSEL 207 going to give it away to the police. I do not care a hang about the murder, who committed it, or anything else ; but I do want to know the answer to this question. You know, so you might as well tell me. The bills are yours for the answer. As soon as you give it I'll let you go." The fellow looked me up and down as if measuring my strength against his. I ex- panded my chest and straightened my broad shoulders to impress him with my power, and to show him how weak he was in compari- son. "How did the tassel get into Dr. Talmar's possession?" I demanded. I saw that he meant to answer, for he ex- tended his hand for the money. I placed it in his open palm as he uttered these words : "I don't know, and it's too late to find out now." "Too late to find out now?" I asked anx- iously. "Why is it too late?" "Don't you know?" "Know what?" I asked, becoming exasper- ated. "That Bennett is dead." "Bennett dead! What do you mean, man?" "He was killed in an automobile accident. 208 THE PERSIAN TASSEL I've just been to the hospital. He died a half- hour ago. I saw him at noon." "Don't lie to me, young fellow; this is a serious affair." I was like one dazed, and could hardly grasp the situation. Bennett dead! It was terrible! Poor Vi! The fellow went on talking, but I heard only snatches of what he said, so overcome was I by the news. "If you don't believe what I say, go and see for yourself," he said as he left. I stood a moment, then turned back toward Madison Avenue, and walked a block before I realized that I had not asked at what hospital I might find Bennett. I looked up the street, but the man had disappeared. I would go to the office at once; if the office was closed I would go to Vi. Though I felt deeply the news of Bennett's death, at the same time I felt that it was prob- ably the best thing that could have happened. Yet even while I tried to reason with myself in this manner I found that the sympathy of the lifelong friendship between us arose again, and my regret and remorse for him whom I had so neglected when he had needed me most was terrible. "There is nothing like the sting of remorse." This saying I had heard since childhood, but THE PERSIAN TASSEL 209 never until now had I realized its actual truth. I was as unhappy as I had been joyful an hour before. I walked over and caught a Broad- way car to Bennett's office. Entering the outer office, I found the assist- ants working at their desks as usual, and as I closed the door behind me I heard a voice say : "No, I won't be out for dinner, Vi. Don't wait for me." I took one stride toward the door leading into Bennett's private office, and looked in. Standing before the telephone, the receiver at his ear, was Walt Bennett. I staggered into his room and fell into a chair at his desk. Bennett hung up the receiver and came to- ward me. I had thrown my elbows on the desk and placed my hands to my head. "What's the matter, Powell?" I lifted my head and looked him over. "I was told you were in an automobile accident and had been killed, that your body was at this moment in the hospital." I expected him to laugh, as would have been natural in a case like that; but he did not. He looked sad and disconsolate. "I am sorry, Powell. There is a mistake." He handed me a newspaper. I read the heading of the column he indicated : "Another 210 THE PERSIAN TASSEL Automobile Accident. A man by the name of Dr. Leroy Bennett was seriously injured in an automobile collision last night at about eleven o'clock on lower Broadway. He was taken to the Mercy Hospital. There is said to be but little chance for his recovery." I read no further but glanced up at Ben- nett. He was pacing the floor, his hands clasped behind his back and his head bowed. "Bennett " I began, but I could say no more. A choking feeling seized my throat, and I stopped. He looked at me a moment, then said quite calmly : "Powell, you deserve an explanation." CHAPTER XVI EXPLANATIONS BENNETT stopped pacing the floor as he said this, and dropped into a chair. Straightening his shoulders, he pushed the black hair back from his forehead and began : "Clarke, I am going to impose one condi- tion upon you before I being this explanation." "A condition?" I asked. "Yes. It is a very easy one, and I know you will accept it; otherwise I might hesitate. Vi must know nothing of what I am about to tell you." "Walt, your confidence will not be be- trayed," I responded in all sincerity. I was waiting impatiently for him to speak. He seemed reluctant to proceed, and hesitated a long time before he began at length in a me- tallic tone: "Clarke, I have lived in hell for three years. The man of whose death you have just read was my step-brother, Dr. Leroy Bennett." I started to speak, but he said: 211 212 THE PERSIAN TASSEL "Wait! Wait! I wish to be perfectly frank with you. If I had done so months ago, I would not have suffered as I have." There was the bitterness of shame in his voice, and I stirred uneasily in my seat, hardly breathing in my intense emotion as I listened. "The story which I wish to tell you is a long one," Bennett continued, "but I shall try to make it as short and explicit as possible. Three years ago, exactly to the month, my step-brother, scarcely more than a slip of a boy, twenty-three at most, came to Amer- ica. He came to me one day and made himself known. I discerned from our conversation that the boy was a degenerate, and that he had fled to America to escape a criminal charge in Paris. He had been a medical student in Paris prior to coming to his native country. I told him I would have nothing to do with him, but he threatened to tell Vi of his iden- tity, so I agreed to lend him some money, pro- vided he kept his presence secret. That was the beginning of a series of blackmail schemes carried through by him and his confederates, a number of low, disreputable fellows with whom he had connected himself. Once started I could not turn back; every incident sealed my lips more and more. So the endless chain THE PERSIAN TASSEL 213 continued, he constantly drawing upon me for large sums, with threats of exposure and ruin if I did not acquiesce in his demands. Thus it continued until the murder of Dr. Talmar. Shortly afterward he came to me and con- fessed that he had committed the crime, de- claring that unless I paid him a large sum of money he would give himself up and make known to the public his close relationship with me. For Vi's sake I would have complied, but I did not have the money. It was prac- tically financial ruin to me, and it was on his account that I was staring bankruptcy in the face. I refused to give the money to him, despairing of ever keeping the matter secret from Vi. Day by day I read the papers, ex- pecting each time to find an account of his cap- ture and confession. The days passed and nothing happened. Vi had not been told, and I breathed easier; but always the gloom of calamity hovered over me, and I lived in a constant panic of fear." Bennett stopped abruptly, breathing hard and with his hands tensely clasping the arms of the chair ; then he arose and continued talk- ing, pacing the floor restlessly as he spoke. "I have known, Powell, that circumstances have made you suspicious of me, but I was tied 214 THE PERSIAN TASSEL hand and foot. What could I do but shield this boy who was of my own blood regard- less of consequences?" He stopped and gazed through the window into space. I could not answer. My tongue was dry and parched, while my throat seemed par- alyzed. My heart ached for him. Conflicting thoughts, fragmentary sentences, and tangled situations flashed through my brain in one mad whirl. The light of day was dawning for me, but it brought neither comfort nor solace; my feeling of unworthiness was too keen for that. I arose and weakly extended my hand. "Bennett, will you can you accept my friendship?" My voice broke. He looked down at my outstretched hand and for a moment I feared he hesitated, but my doubt was soon dispelled. He took it in a strong clasp, saying: "Why shouldn't I accept it, Clarke? You are the best friend a man ever had. Human nature is weak in the best of us, Clarke, and but few men have the loyalty and honor that you possess. You have had sufficient reasons for suspicion, yet you did not turn from me entirely." I turned my head away from him, as he still held my hand clasped in his. THE PERSIAN TASSEL 215 So unworthy of his words did I feel that I could not look him in the face. He resumed placidly : "Doubt and jealousy are the two most powerful foes to friendship, and you not only doubted me but you were jealous of my at- tentions to Janet Negley." At the sound of her name I started slightly. "Yes, Walt, I was jealous," I replied. "You had every cause for jealousy," he an- swered quickly. "I even went so far as to tell you that I had proposed to her, but that was before I knew that you loved her. But I wish you would explain just why you sus- pected me of being connected with the murder of Dr. Talmar. Some of the incidents are ob- vious, others are not." "I will give in detail the incidents that aroused my suspicions, but you must unravel them for me. Even now I cannot understand all the connection. First, Walt, why did you have a red toupee secretly hidden in your office?" "Oh, you saw that, did you? I could laugh, were the situation less serious. That's where it all started, eh? Confound it, when I come to think of it, you did have some good reasons for doubt. I never thought of the toupee 216 THE PERSIAN TASSEL again, but I can see an obvious connection there. Leroy had red hair. A wonderful co- incidence, wonderful, Clarke! The thought had never entered my head before." "But do explain!" I exclaimed impatiently. "There are a hundred things to be explained. Why did you have the red toupee? How did you learn about the Doctor's rejuvenating theory? When did you get the story by Douglas White, and " "I would have to start at the very begin- ning, Clarke," he interrupted. "Do you re- call the morning I called you over here to the office and wanted a story? You refused me, by the way. Well, while you were here I re- ceived a note from Vi asking me to come to Shetland that night to bring her home. Did I not say I had an engagement, a social en- gagement? I had promised a friend of mine, who resides on our street in Harlem, to attend a masquerade party that night, which he was giving for his daughter. I had bought the red toupee for that affair. I did not choose red voluntarily that was the only color the mer- chant had in stock." "Go on go on," I said; "it is so absurd, now that I understand." "I went to the ball," continued Bennett, THE PERSIAN TASSEL 217 "but left for Shetland after an hour. I found both the girls quite upset over what Janet called a mania of her father. She told me all about the advertisement he had inserted in the evening paper, of the numerous applicants, and of the proposition he made to each. Later, after I had taken Vi home, I went to the office and put the red toupee beside the bookcase. Then I began to write down the doctor's story just as Vi and Janet had told it to me. I finished half of it that night. There you are, Clarke." "Go on; what did you do next?" "I'm almost ashamed to confess this, Clarke, but I saw you in Doctor Talmar's office that night as one of the applicants, and I was con- siderably upset the next morning when I learned he had been murdered. You had looked straight at me without making the slightest sign of recognition. I thought this was strange, but decided you did not want me to know of your presence there. I studied over the affair, and tried my best not to doubt you ; but I knew you were not looking around for story material, for you had just told me that you would write nothing more for the time being. I sincerely ask your pardon, Clarke." 218 THE PERSIAN TASSEL "You need not bother about that; we are even on that score. How about your propos- ing to Janet Negley, and then reneging?" "Yes, Clarke, I proposed to Janet and this part I told you, but you do not know about the other." "Never mind; tell me about it." "You seem to know as much about it as I do." "No, I am entirely in the dark." "Well, the day after I proposed to Janet, Leroy came into my office and told me of his having killed Doctor Talmar. Of course with this knowledge I could not continue wooing her, and could not marry her, even if I could gain her consent. It was foolish to do as I did, but I was like an insane man; and I have been even more irrational since." "Has your brother told you what part the Persian tassel played in the tragedy?" I asked. "Or why he abducted Janet Negley?" "He stole Janet for the money which he thought she had. I did not know any of the details, Powell, until to-day at the hospital when Leroy confessed everything in full. Un- til noon to-day I knew nothing more than that he was connected with the murder of Doctor THE PERSIAN TASSEL 219 Talmar; although, of course, I suspected that he had played some part in the abduction." ''Did he confess to the prescriptions? To the drugging of Janet?" "Yes, Clarke; but the morphine was for his own personal use. He was a morphine fiend, and it was that drug that had led him into a life of crime." "He drugged Janet?" I interrupted. "Yes; but he did not use morphine. He placed a handkerchief saturated with ether over her face; then, after she became uncon- scious, he carried her to a drug store and 'phoned for a taxi. I suppose that is where you found the prescriptions, at the Euclid Pharmacy. One of them, as you know, is an antidote for morphine which he always car- ried, to use in case he should accidentally take an overdose of the drug." "Where did he take Janet?" "To a house on Twelfth Street," replied Bennett. "But from there, I mean? The woman at the house told me that the man and the girl had been there but had left again. Where did he take her from there?" "The woman must have been lying, Clarke, 220 THE PERSIAN TASSEL for he took Janet directly there from the drug store, and she did not leave until she was set free." "Why did they decide to set her free?" "As a compromise." "How? "Janet was to tell them where they could find the ten thousand dollars." "Did she know?" I had arisen in my chair, all attention, my heart palpitating. "Apparently not. It was a ruse to get away. She directed them to our house, which they ransacked; then, being unsuccessful, they visited Shetland the same night." "Yes, Bennett, I suppose you are right. But you haven't told me about that," I con- tinued, pulling the tassel from my pocket and tossing it across to him. He picked it up, glanced at it, then looked over at me. "Where did you get it?" "Never mind." He hesitated for a moment, turned and twisted the article in his hands, then said: "There is an enigma here, Powell, which I can't exactly solve. How did the tassel get into Doctor Talmar's hand? Leroy said it was the tassel that misled him." THE PERSIAN TASSEL 221 "How? Tell me about it. Tell me the story, the story as told you by him. Of the killing, I mean," I stammered awkwardly in my haste. "I will tell you the story, Clarke, just as he told it to me to-day only a short time before he died. Leroy answered the advertisement but was refused a hearing, as the doctor did not care to see a fair type of man. As he saun- tered down the walk from the doctor's resi- dence, he decided to turn and look into the of- fice. The Doctor was talking to a man, you, from his description, and was showing you a roll of bills. Leroy raised the window care- fully and overheard the conversation. Then and there he resolved to get the money. It was such a cold night that he could not stand outside and await his opportunity, or until the Doctor had retired; so he went to the barn in the rear and concealed himself in the hay-loft. There he fell asleep and did not awake until after five o'clock in the morning. He hurried toward the house just as it was getting light, and climbed onto the projecting sill beneath the window of the Doctor's office. Much to his disappointment Doctor Talmar was still there. He was standing with his back to the window, seemingly counting or examining something in 222 THE PERSIAN TASSEL his hand. The idea came to Leroy that it was the money. A few moments later Dr. Tal- mar walked to a chair, threw his arms out over the table, and buried his face in his arms. "One of his hands was tightly closed, as if he still clutched the roll of bills. He appeared to be weeping; his shoulders shook, and he opened and closed the hand which apparently held the money. Leroy waited ten minutes. His feet fairly ached and his fingers were numb. He could not stay outside much longer, for daylight was coming fast. The Doctor remained quiet; Leroy waited a while longer, thinking that perhaps the old man would fall asleep and that the house could be entered without waking him. Finally Leroy stealthily raised the window and crept on hands and feet to the Doctor's side. The Doctor's left hand lay several inches over the side of the table, and was still closed. Leroy placed his fingers over the hand and slowly opened it. He was startled to see, not the roll of bills, but a common tassel in glittering colors of various hues. Doctor Talmar raised his head and looked straight at him with a wild, insane stare; and before Leroy could move or speak had thrust a revolver between them. "Leroy said the minute he looked into the THE PERSIAN TASSEL 223 Doctor's eyes he knew he had to deal with an insane man. The instinct of self-protection came to him, and he snatched a knife from the table and plunged it instantly into the old man's heart. When he saw what he had done a panic of fear seized him. After searching the room for the money, which he could not find, he decided to set fire to the house in an effort to conceal his crime. This accom- plished, he left the place." We both sat in silence for a few minutes. "Who do you think has the money, Walt?" I asked at length. "I do not know, but I rather believe it was hidden in the Doctor's laboratory and was de- stroyed by the fire." "How did the tassel come to be in the Doc- tor's hand?" "I have no theory as to that," he quickly replied, then looked up at me meaningly: "Where did you get it, Clarke?" "At the Talmar home, after the tragedy." "How?" "On the floor of the Doctor's office, where apparently it had fallen unnoticed." "It is strange the officers did not find it." "Yes, it is," I replied. I was trying to piece together the explanations Bennett had given me 224 THE PERSIAN TASSEL and connect them with what I knew. The con- nected links made a perfect chain. The red- headed man on the train was Leroy Bennett, and he was the Bennett referred to by the two men in the Ninth Street tavern. No wonder I had become entangled in the mesh of cir- cumstantial incidents. A man of more power- ful mentality than myself would have done the same. "Bennett, I need not condole with you over the loss of your brother," I said, rising. "He has brought you more sorrow in life than his untimely demise could possibly arouse now. What you have told me must have relieved your mind; I must confess that it has relieved mine. It has lifted a great load from me. If you will accept the renewal of my friendship for the future, it is yours. Let's forget these few weeks of torment, and let me show in some way my appreciation of your securing for me a story by Douglas White. But just how I can do this I do not know." A puzzled expression came to his face. "A story from Douglas White, did you say? I know nothing of it, Clarke. But I saw Dodge this morning, and he said if he could possibly get you a story he would. He thinks a good deal of your future; says you are one of the THE PERSIAN TASSEL 225 coming authors. Yes, I suppose it is Dodge you must thank. I told the truth all the time about the manuscript that I received from White. It is a strange affair; still it hap- pened, and I wish he would send me an- other." "Well, there is nothing that can surprise me now," I said. "You say Vi knows nothing about Leroy?" "Nothing at all. She knows that we have a step-brother abroad somewhere, but that is all. I have never told her he was in America. Vi and I are his only living relatives. I shall attend to his burial, in private." I now arose to go, yet hesitated. Things were not entirely clear in my mind. I was far from happy, although a great load had been taken from me. Bennett was innocent and I thanked God most reverently for that, but Janet's connection with the affair was still un- explained. I did not say anything to Ben- nett about that part of it. It was my secret, and if Janet would marry me I would gladly dismiss the whole affair from my mind. "Oh, about my story, Clarke, my using your name. Can you ever forgive me? You understand, of course, that I never thought for a moment you would care, or that you con- 226 THE PERSIAN TASSEL sidered writing anything of the kind your- self." "Don't let's discuss it, Bennett. It is all right now, but " I stopped. "You certainly had me going on several occasions. I found a memorandum on your desk one night which read something like this : 'Abduction, confes- sion, marriage.' On the other side was: 'Meet me to-night at 13 Riverside and will dis- cuss the abduction.' That was the substance of it, although I have forgotten the exact words. I can tell you I conjured up mental pictures equal to those of any dope fiend. I could see you planning the abduction and the whole affair." "Yes, Clarke, that was another coincidence. My writing of the abduction before it ever hap- pened, or possibly even before it was planned by Leroy, was very strange. I made the memorandum for developing my story, never dreaming that it would turn out as it did in reality." "Where did you go last night after you left me in such a hurry?" I asked abruptly. "To the hospital. Leroy had just sent for me." CHAPTER XVII DOUGLAS WHITE AFTER leaving Bennett's office I went directly to my rooms, changed my clothes, then stopped at a restaurant for din- ner, before catching a train for Shetland. I intended leaving early so as to have a full even- ing with Janet, but I missed the six-forty- five train, so that it was after eight o'clock when I reached my destination. Janet was seated at the piano as I entered the room. I stopped between the partly closed folding-doors and looked in. She was alone, and evidently had not heard me enter, for she seemed entirely unconscious of my pres- ence. She was beautifully dressed in a flimsy white dress of transparent material, cut low at the neck and practically sleeveless, with the exception of a short cap at the shoulders and a shower of pearl beads that gracefully dropped upon her arms. A red rose was the only bit of color she wore. Her tawny hair 227 228 THE PERSIAN TASSEL was piled in careless masses upon her head and seemed to accentuate her girlishness. And this frail bit of womanhood was the cause of all my unrest and this feeling she had aroused within me was love! Love! an esthetic joy when reciprocated, but a torturing flame when doubt and suspicion intervene. Janet glanced over her shoulder and our eyes met. She arose and came toward me smiling, with extended hand. Suddenly her fleeting expression of pleasure vanished, and changed in quick succession from anxiety to alarm. "Clarke, you look ill," she said. "Impossible!" I answered evasively. "It must be the light." "But you are so pale, Clarke." "Well, if so, you are to blame. I have been listening to you sing." I was standing close beside her, looking down into her face, while it seemed that with each breath I gave the pressure of the tassel in my pocket became greater. But in a moment I had folded her in my arms, scarcely breathing in the inten- sity of my feeling. "Janet," I almost whispered, "I have come for my answer. I cannot endure the suspense THE PERSIAN TASSEL 229 any longer. Doubt and worry are killing me. I cannot stand this indefinitely." She moved slightly in my arms, and I re- laxed my clasp somewhat, for I saw that she wanted to speak. "What is it, Clarke? You doubt me?" She had drawn away from me slightly, and her eyes searched mine inquiringly. "The doubt and worry concern your answer, Janet," I replied, lowering my eyes. "Is that all, Clarke? Tell me!" Her words and manner veiled the anxiety she wished to hide, yet I could see that she was laboring under the tension and was fighting hard for self-control. I made no answer, hardly knowing what to say. It would be much easier to prevaricate than to tell her the truth and possibly run the risk of losing her forever, yet I could not lie to her. She now stood leaning against a chair ; and I could see that the battle with herself had been won, for she stood calmly awaiting my answer. I took a step toward her then hesitated. I felt that the fatal hour had struck, and that nothing could prevent a denouement. Silence reigned in the room, scarcely could our breath- 230 THE PERSIAN TASSEL ing be heard; yet my heart palpitated noisily and each beat was added pain. Still Janet stood silent, waiting for me to speak. An imperative tug at my heart bade me proceed; yet I hesitated. Would I lose her if I told the truth? A shiver passed over me. I gripped the chair in front of me. I found myself resisting a sudden and violent impulse to laugh aloud. Janet's complacent waiting reacted upon my shattered nerves. Then, with a rush, my mental faculties came back. A moment before I was in quicksand, but now I was on solid earth once more. Honor and reason triumphed over weakness and irresolution. I realized that although I had been weak when face to face with the thought of losing Janet, I had now subjugated my fear and was beyond danger of temptation. Janet gazed at me in tense silence. "Thank you, Janet, for giving me time to think and collect my scattered wits before speaking," I began. Taking the Persian tas- sel from my pocket, I held it up for her to see. I saw her eyes open wide with surprise; then she slowly lowered her head until her chin rested upon the chair back. I ran to her, put my arms around her, and lifted her face until her eyes met mine. THE PERSIAN TASSEL 231 "Janet, Janet! I wish to take no unfair advantage. I do not want an explanation. I want your answer. Will you marry me at once? I do not care to know anything about the tassel. It was you who commanded me to tell you." I stopped, breathless. Twice she tried to speak, but was unable to utter a word. I waited impatiently, holding her to me in a tight embrace. Finally she drew away from me and seated herself on the lounge. "Let me think. Yes; I must tell you, Clarke. It is hard, but I must." The emotion in her voice terrified me, yet I tightened my lips and managed to say quite calmly : "Janet, do not speak if it pains you. I do not wish to know. You are innocent of any wrong, no matter how accusing circumstances may seem. I love you; is not that sufficient?" "Yes, Clarke; but I can never be happy until I explain to you what I know. First tell me where you got that tassel." "From Phyllis, the day after the tragedy, when I came out to Shetland to see if I could find any clue to the murder." I seated myself beside her on the lounge as I was saying this. "Clarke," she began determinedly, "first, 232 THE PERSIAN TASSEL I must make you understand the motive for what transpired, then it will be easier to ex- plain what followed. I never expected to have to tell you this." "And yet you said you could not give me your answer on account of something con- nected with " "Yes; that is so," she interrupted. "And you would have given me up?" "I am afraid so." "Oh, Janet!" "Don't, Clarke, please. Let me tell you all. The night father put an advertisement in the paper I was nearly wild. I did not want him to risk his life and that of another in what I considered an insane experiment. I had worked for three years to prevent him from carrying out his plans ; but all to no pur- pose. He had accumulated his ten thousand dollars and was determined to carry out his plan. Vi, as you know, was visiting me at the time, and we had talked it over, trying to think of some way to thwart his scheme. Finally Vi suggested that I get his money and hide it so that father could not continue this course. We decided that it was best to do this ; so after Vi and her brother had gone that night I got up, slipped on my Persian jacket, THE PERSIAN TASSEL 233 and went down to father's office, thinking he was in bed. Opening the door, I saw he was still in his office, asleep at his desk. I crept in, searched the drawers, and found the roll of bills. Father awoke just as I was leaving the room. A scene ensued in which I remon- strated with him for exploiting his scheme by advertising. He became insanely angry, and rushed at me, clutching at my jacket in his frenzy. I left in a panic of fear, for his anger was terrifying. Reaching my room, I locked the door and hid the money. He did not know I had taken it. It was then that I dis- covered he had torn the tassel from my jacket in his impotent rage against me. The next morning Phyllis came rushing to tell me that the house was on fire and that father was dead, murdered. I went to Vi's, taking the money with me, and gave it to her for safe keeping. She promised to deposit it in a bank for me, as I was not in a condition to de- posit it myself. You can understand the strain I was under, Clarke, fearing the tassel would be found by the police. As the days passed I gradually became calmer and decided I had nothing to fear. I could not marry you with th^ shadow hanging over me, and I did not want to tell you all this." 234 THE PERSIAN TASSEL "Janet," I remonstrated quickly, "did you think I was so unworthy of your confidence?" "Not unworthy, Clarke; but I was afraid I did not know how you would receive it. Over three years ago I discovered that father was not mentally responsible, and that he would attempt to carry out his scheme as soon as he had accumulated the necessary money. So I set out to accumulate an equal amount to prevent his carrying out his plan. My inten- tion was to buy off the man whom father should finally persuade to enter into his scheme. I worked hard for three years, but father secured the amount quicker than I. Obsessed with the one idea, I wrote hundreds, yes, hundreds, of stories. Many I have sold, novels, poems, short stories, for ex- orbitant sums, but always under a nom de plume." "Janet!" I said in amazement. "Don't, Clarke. Wait; ask me questions after I have finished. I lived in a dream in which ten thousand dollars was the rainbow's end, but even in the dream I could not reach it." She stopped, breathing hard, then smil- ing slightly said with a little quiver in her voice : THE PERSIAN TASSEL 235 "Of course you know I am Douglas White." "Janet!" I cried. "Do you know what this means to me? I have loved Douglas White as a man and as a writer whose soul had kin- ship with mine. You and I must have met and loved long before this world began. How strange it all is! Yet I did not know. It must have been you who sent me the manu- script, 'Inspiration.' ' She laughed, a bright, rippling laugh, like the music of white pebbles washed by the lim- pid stream. "Oh, I did work so hard to finish it, Clarke! I stayed up half the night after you left. I was so afraid I could not help you out at first, but when I learned you had until the next afternoon I felt sure I could. I fin- ished it by four o'clock in the morning, had it beautifully copied on the typewriter by the afternoon, then sent it off by a boy who does all my messenger work." Again she laughed lightly. "I suppose you also sent the manuscript that Bennett received some time ago?" "Yes ; but I had sent it before, asking quite a large sum for it. One Saturday Vi told me of the Favorite Magazine, saying that her 236 THE PERSIAN TASSEL brother was its editor and owner and that he was having a hard time in meeting its ex- penses. I had previously confessed to Vi the reason for my anonymous writings. I sent the story immediately, saying he could have it gratis, and it reached him Monday morning. I wished to help him on Vi's account, although when I sent him the manuscript I had never met him." Everything was plain to me now. I began to understand Vi's strange actions when I dis- cussed the missing ten thousand dollars the day after the tragedy. I understood why Vi had swung abruptly to the piano the evening I had begun to discuss Douglas White. At the time it seemed strange, but now I remem- bered the smile I had seen hovering upon her lips. "Janet," I said, "some of the things con- nected with all this are humorous, others are not. Tell me about the abduction." "I can tell you little, Clarke, that I have not already told you. I was walking to the corner to mail my letter to Phyllis when some one seized me from behind and put a handkerchief saturated with something over my face. I knew nothing more until I came to myself again in the house on Twelfth Street." THE PERSIAN TASSEL 237 "Why were you liberated, Janet?" "For money. I was to divulge the where- abouts of the ten thousand dollars. I had given it to Vi, who had deposited it in a bank, so I misled them. I told them they would find it under a corner of the carpet in father's office in Shetland. I knew that that particu- lar corner of the room had been destroyed by fire. "Evidently the thieves searched Vi's board- ing-house that same night, thinking that I might have hidden the money there, and was trying to shield the Bennetts and save the ten thousand dollars." "And now?" I hesitated, almost afraid to speak. "What is it, Clarke?" "Will you marry me now, Janet? Answer me that; if you say 'y es ' mv soul's sickness is cured, otherwise " I hesitated. "What, Clarke?" I sighed. "And you still wish to marry me, after after all all that " "Do you love me, Janet?" I was stern and demanding. I took her hands in mine and looked deep into her eyes. The color mounted to her cheeks, and a glow spread over 238 THE PERSIAN TASSEL her face; then she spoke in a low tone, hardly more than a whisper: "I adore you!" I clasped her to me, pressed her head back, and placed my lips upon hers. A 000 051 505 6