t^fc , 
 
 6
 
 THE RED PAPER
 
 Ho\v how long have I been this way?" asked John.
 
 PAPER 
 
 c.c 
 
 HOTCHKISS 
 
 ^ ,/" 
 
 c/yurnor o^O 
 "BETSY ROSS 
 
 GREFE 
 
 N E ^T YORK 
 
 W.J.W^ATT 6-^ COMPANY 
 
 PUBLI^HE IL,^
 
 Copyright, igie 
 
 BY 
 W. J. WATT & COMPANY 
 
 Published September
 
 Stack 
 
 Annex 
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 I. THE CONFESSION 5 
 
 II. A TRAGEDY 18 
 
 III. A LETTER AND ITS CONSEQUENCES 33 
 
 IV. TOM HARPER 59 
 
 V. THE RED PAPER 71 
 
 VI. GRACE MERRIDALE 79 
 
 VII. BAGSHOT MOVES 91 
 
 VIII. THE PLAN 100 
 
 IX. ANOTHER LETTER no 
 
 X. A MATTER OF HASTE 122 
 
 XI. ON THE LONE STAR 137 
 
 XII. A CLIMAX 152 
 
 XIII. AN OPEN GAME 159 
 
 XIV. BAGSHOT S FIRST MOVE 167 
 
 3 
 
 2136300
 
 4 CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 XV. CHECK 186 
 
 XVI. DEPUTY SHERIFF HARPER 199 
 
 XVII. THE DEVIL CARES FOR His OWN 220 
 
 XVIII. THE STAGE-DRIVER 235 
 
 XIX. AT THE FORD 248 
 
 XX. THE DESERT 259 
 
 XXI. THE NORTHER 270 
 
 XXII. IN THE HUT 277 
 
 XXIII. NEMESIS 289
 
 THE RED PAPER
 
 THE RED PAPER 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 THE CONFESSION 
 
 IT was growing late, and the September night 
 held the breathless character of heat and humid 
 ity with which New York is usually cursed in 
 July. Even the Great White Way, awakening to 
 the new "season," sagged under the depressing 
 influence of the weather. The crowds moved slug 
 gishly, finding exertion attended with inconvenience 
 and discomfort; there was little unnecessary traffic; 
 conventional society perspired within doors; the 
 less fortunate element patronized front stoops, 
 while the proletariat took to the house-tops. In 
 the up-town side streets it was very quiet. 
 
 As John Wentworth turned into Madison Avenue 
 and came before his own door he saw a man smoking 
 a cigarette as he lounged against the low, cut-stone 
 wall bounding the narrow strip of earth between 
 the pavement and the building, the heavy air bringing 
 to his nostrils the odor of Cuban tobacco. 
 
 5
 
 6 THE RED PAPER 
 
 Wentworth barely noticed him and was about 
 to go up the broad steps when the stranger discon 
 nected himself from the wall, moved forward and 
 accosted him. 
 
 "Senor, will you kindly tell me the hour?" 
 
 There was nothing offensive or threatening in the 
 request, nor did the man who made it look dangerous ; 
 but being a thorough New Yorker and wise in his 
 own generation, Wentworth did not attempt to con 
 sult his watch. "It is half-past ten," he said, making 
 a shrewd guess, at the same instant, in a compre 
 hensive glance, taking in the details of the questioner. 
 
 By his accent, manner and appearance the latter 
 was plainly a foreigner. His dark hair hung almost 
 to his shoulders, and there was just light enough 
 for Wentworth to catch his expression and to see 
 that his face was adorned with a mustache and 
 goatee. The young man smiled as he realized that 
 he had been suspicious of one whose slight, well- 
 dressed body would have been no match for his 
 own muscular and athletic figure. 
 
 At the answer the stranger waved a small, well- 
 shaped hand. "Much thanks, Senor. Buenos noches." 
 At that he turned and strolled up the avenue with 
 the deliberate slowness of one without an object 
 other than a desire to kill time. 
 
 Wentworth reached the top step, and while feeling 
 for his latch-key turned and looked after him. The 
 young man appeared to be the embodiment of all 
 that was fortunate, yet, in truth, while at the high
 
 THE CONFESSION T 
 
 tide of physical health and harmony, subconsciously 
 he was far from being satisfied with himself. Even 
 as he stood there watching the receding figure he 
 was vaguely aware that he was wasting his powers 
 in ease, or at an avocation which at best was hardly 
 more than piffling; but he lacked the incentive to 
 put his latent strength of mind and body into effective 
 play. He had nothing to ruffle him in the way of 
 a lack of money, nothing to disturb his temper in 
 the way of enmity or jealousy, nothing to stir his 
 blood through being loved by or loving a woman. 
 He was moving on a sluggish current of self-ease, 
 and, unknown to himself, was being mildly punished 
 by the law demanding sacrifice as an exchange for 
 happiness. 
 
 Born to the purple and the silver spoon, his life 
 had been such as naturally to extinguish high ambi 
 tion; but his pride of self and family was great, 
 fantastically so; it represented honor, and its honor 
 had never been impugned. Had John Wentworth 
 known what he lacked, he would have supplied the 
 want; but at present he only felt the surge of some 
 thing the nature of which he did not realize. It 
 was not social aspiration. For "society" he cared 
 nothing, having but few close friends and but one 
 intimate. He did not know what he wished; there 
 was no recognized want he could name, but the un 
 important incident of meeting the stranger, who by 
 this was out of sight, seemed somehow to accen 
 tuate a rising protest at his own uselessness, though
 
 8 THE RED PAPER 
 
 there was nothing in the trifling circumstance 
 of the encounter that seemed to bear any relation 
 to himself or his affairs. With an impatient jerk at 
 the bunch of keys which had become jammed in 
 his pocket, he turned and let himself into the 
 house. 
 
 The front hall was dark, and Wentworth was about 
 to go upstairs to his own rooms when he noticed the 
 library door was open, the soft light from within 
 showing at the further end of the broad passage. 
 It told him that his father had not yet retired. He 
 hung up his hat and went down the hall for a good 
 night word with his parent. 
 
 Captain Wentworth was nervously writing at a 
 broad mahogany table desk strewn with papers, 
 the glow from an intricately twisted electrolier 
 falling on his thick and disordered white hair. His 
 bushy white eyebrows were contracted, and he was 
 fiercely biting the short ends of his closely trimmed 
 white mustache. His was a handsome head, but 
 one could see by his paleness and the lines of his 
 face that he was physically depleted; indeed, he 
 had the appearance of one whose nerves were being 
 ground to a fine edge. A small lacquered table 
 stood at his elbow and on it were a decanter of wine, 
 a cut-glass ice-pitcher covered with beads of moisture, 
 some glasses, and a plate of sweet biscuits. The 
 air of the sumptuously furnished room was hot and 
 close, notwithstanding the swung-back French 
 windows.
 
 THE CONFESSION 9 
 
 As the front door closed the old gentleman abruptly 
 ceased writing and listened, and as he heard his son s 
 footsteps coming down the marble floor of the hall 
 he hurriedly but carefully slipped the sheet on which 
 he had been at work under the leather-lined, pink 
 blotting pad before him. He had but just concealed 
 the paper when the young man appeared. 
 
 "You are pegging at it a bit too hard, dad," said 
 John affectionately as he paused by his father and 
 noted the strained expression of his face. "You 
 should be abed, sir." 
 
 Captain Wentworth ran his hand nervously up 
 the thin gold chain attached to his eye-glasses, and 
 removing them, settled back in his pivoted chair 
 and swung round to face his son. 
 
 "I know it, Jack, I know it." He spoke with a 
 gasp, as though short of breath from excitement or 
 exertion. 
 
 "What s the necessity, dad?" 
 
 In return the old gentleman looked at the young 
 man as though he envied the fine lines of the tall, 
 athletic figure; then, ignoring the question, he passed 
 his hand over his eyes and asked abruptly: "Where 
 have you come from, Jack?" 
 
 "From the Grand Central, after seeing Tom Harper 
 off on his hunt. We had been at my laboratory, or 
 studio, or whatever you may choose to call it." 
 
 "Delectable amusement there, I suppose!" The 
 elder man looked at his son as if measuring him for 
 a purpose, his face very serious; the other, who
 
 10 THE RED PAPER 
 
 was selecting a cigarette from the case he took from 
 his pocket, did not notice the critical glance. His 
 answer was nonchalant. 
 
 "I have comfortable quarters there, certainly. 
 When are you going to honor me with a call ?" 
 
 "I don t know. What does it all amount to, 
 Jack?" 
 
 John Wentworth smiled. "Amount to? Is that 
 a conundrum? Well, I hardly hope to get a painting 
 hung in the Academy, or have more than honorable 
 mention in the photographers exhibition. I can t 
 say I possess a high order of ambition but delect 
 able amusement, most decidedly!" 
 
 The old gentleman made no direct answer to this, 
 but continued to gaze fixedly at his son, his broad 
 chest heaving with every breath as if his lungs 
 lacked air. 
 
 "Has Thomas gone to bed?" he finally asked. 
 
 "I presume so. The house seems locked for the 
 night, save here." John glanced at the opened 
 windows. 
 
 "Then shut the door." 
 
 The words were so abrupt that the young man 
 looked closely at his father before he obeyed. As 
 he turned back from the door and lighted his ciga 
 rette he noticed the captain s labored breathing. 
 
 "You are done up, dad." 
 
 "I am. God! If I could have but your youth, 
 your strength!" The outburst was sudden and 
 apparently uncalled for. The young man bent
 
 THE CONFESSION 11 
 
 forward and looked with astonishment at his father, 
 but the old gentleman s eye reassured him. 
 
 "Why this dramatic desperation, dad?" he asked. 
 
 "Desperate, indeed, my son!" was the serious 
 return. "Sit down, Jack. I ve got to talk to you 
 if I can but I haven t been able to take a deep 
 breath all day." 
 
 "The old trouble?" 
 
 The captain nodded and tapped his chest over his 
 heart. "My boy," he began, with an air of dogged 
 determination, "I have never given you an intimate 
 insight into my affairs; not because I was afraid 
 to trust you; not because I thought you lacked 
 either sense or sympathy, but because your tastes 
 and mine have been along such different lines. My 
 days have been devoted to business yours have 
 been passed in ambling along the easy road of a 
 dilettante. To me you were unpractical, though 
 I have not disturbed you by attempting to force 
 your thoughts into different channels. But the time 
 has come, Jack, when against my wish and by the 
 force of necessity I am compelled to talk to you. 
 Indeed, the necessity has existed for some time 
 but I have shied at it I have feared it." 
 
 The speaker paused and struggled for a deep 
 breath. His son looked at him, his face showing a 
 mixture of perplexity, anxiety and interrogation, 
 but he said nothing, and the cigarette between his 
 lips burned on uninhaled. The captain evidently 
 saw the suppressed question in the young man s
 
 12 THE RED PAPER 
 
 face, for after a spasmodic heaving of his broad shoul 
 ders he continued: 
 
 "I saw the doctor again to-day. He told me I 
 must quit at once go to Europe or somewhere, 
 but he won t guarantee my life for an hour. I know 
 my condition quite as well as he, and He 
 hesitated. 
 
 "Well?" The word came after a moment of deep 
 silence, the blood slowly leaving the face of the young 
 man as he stared at his father. 
 
 "And I don t care how soon it is over!" said the 
 captain, with a determination and abruptness that 
 spoke volumes of his mental state. 
 
 "Dad!" The exclamation was explosive and pro 
 testing. The old gentleman lifted his hand in 
 deprecation. 
 
 "No I mean it, Jack. When a man gets to be 
 sixty years of age he has become disillusioned, no 
 matter how optimistic he has been. If it were not 
 for one s youth and consequent blindness life would 
 be voted a failure by nearly every honest man arriving 
 at my age. But that aside, Jack. You have your 
 mother s patrimony; you have used it as suited 
 yourself. How does it stand?" 
 
 "I have increased it a trifle, sir," was the rather 
 mechanical response, as the young man threw away 
 the cigarette which was scorching his mustache. 
 
 "That is good, Jack! That is good and for 
 tunate for from me you will get next to nothing. 
 j i_ jj e stopped, mastered by his emotion.
 
 THE CONFESSION 13 
 
 "Are you trying to explain to me that you have 
 met with losses?" asked the other, a new light spring 
 ing to his eye. "Why beat about the bush, dad? 
 All I have shall be at your command, and - 
 
 The old gentleman stopped him by again lifting 
 his hand. " No, Jack. If it were only that it 
 would be simple enough. You have the generosity 
 of the unselfish and the unthinking. I thank you. 
 But it is not that, nor do I mean that my state of 
 health is hopeless. I may live for some years, or I 
 may not, but Again he hesitated. 
 
 The oppressive grip on John Wentworth s heart 
 loosened a trifle. If the matter troubling his father 
 was not a question of money or a question of health 
 it could not be serious. The young man s voice 
 took a soothing tone as he cast off his load, lighted 
 another cigarette, and said: 
 
 " You are far overwrought, dad. The heat is 
 something awful. You ve had a bad day you ve 
 had them before. Don t talk any more to 
 night. " 
 
 The captain shook his white head. "It is not 
 altogether that. It is not the heat, nor the bad day 
 I m used to them. Listen to me. I must tell you, 
 for if anything should happen to me, the matter 
 would devolve on you for a time until a new trustee 
 could be appointed. " 
 
 "Trustee! For whom?" 
 
 "Grace Merridale. She soon comes of age. Her 
 papers are in the deposit vaults. You didn t know
 
 14 THE RED PAPER 
 
 of this you don t know her but you have heard 
 me speak of David Merridale of Texas my old 
 friend since the days we were at sea together? He 
 was indeed my David!" 
 
 "Yes. I know." 
 
 "Well, he made me trustee for his daughter, Grace, 
 under his will. The amount of the scheduled estate 
 is small but there is another matter a paper 
 he gave me to hold for his daughter. This is a trust 
 outside of the trust at law it is a personal trust. 
 David handed the paper to me while he was dying 
 dying in my arms, Jack dying from exhaustion after 
 a trip across the Texas desert." 
 
 The old gentleman labored as he spoke. He 
 stopped, and, turning to the table at his elbow, poured 
 out a glass of wine which he drank off. It appeared 
 to stimulate him, for with something more of vigor 
 and less of distress, he went on. "Jack, you would 
 scarcely believe that so much was involved in a bit 
 of paper not a legal document a paper that would 
 be meaningless to you a square of red paper, for 
 that is all it appears to be; and stranger yet will you 
 consider the place where it is deposited." 
 
 "And where is that?" asked the young man, 
 hardly curious after his recent strain. There could 
 be nothing serious in this. He knew his father s 
 sense of punctilious honor, a sense he had himself 
 inherited, and thought that perhaps the old gentleman 
 might have placed the paper in some institution the 
 name of which he was about to tell. Captain Went-
 
 THE CONFESSION 15 
 
 worth lifted his hand and pointed to a painting hung 
 on the wall behind his son. 
 
 "John, in the back of that picture the paper in 
 question is hidden." He stopped as if to witness 
 the effect of the strange statement. 
 
 Young Wentworth s eyes were again filled with 
 troubled wonder as he mechanically turned and 
 glanced at the picture indicated. He knew it well 
 enough. It had been one of his own first efforts, 
 and had been kept by his father more as a souvenir 
 than for any artistic value. It was hung high over 
 the mantel and out of easy reach. 
 
 "Something of a romantic cast, this, dad," he 
 said, with a strained endeavor at ease of manner, for 
 he had little doubt that for the moment his father 
 was suffering from some sudden mental disturbance; 
 the whole interview had been strange. "Isn t it a 
 queer place for you to hide a paper of worth?" 
 
 "You may think it strange, Jack. Perhaps it is. 
 To you the thing would appear meaningless merely 
 a bit of colored paper, only, but I repeat, it belongs 
 to Grace Merridale on her coming of age, and does 
 not go to her as a legal right it is not included in her 
 father s will. It becomes a matter of honor to me 
 or to you to see that she gets it. My son, that 
 paper is of incalculable value to any one with a full 
 knowledge of its character and contents." 
 
 "Then, why have you not kept it in the deposit- 
 vaults with the legal matter?" interrupted the 
 other, now somewhat impressed.
 
 16 THE RED PAPER 
 
 He had known of the Merridales, father and 
 daughter; but, as they had always lived in Texas, he 
 had never seen them. He knew that David Merridale 
 had, indeed, been a David to Captain Wentworth s 
 Jonathan; that they had been loyal friends since 
 the days when they had been on the sea, though both 
 had long since forsaken the ocean. But why such 
 an intensely practical man as was his father should 
 conceive the romantic idea of hiding a valuable 
 document in a picture in his own library, where it 
 might meet with destruction, he was at a loss to 
 understand. 
 
 At the question put by his son, the captain wet his 
 lips with his tongue, and his paleness was for a 
 moment overcome by a slight flush. 
 
 "I had it in the vaults," he said impressively, 
 "but I could not keep it there. I am telling you 
 this that you may know He ceased abruptly; 
 then, grasping the arms of his chair in a grip so firm 
 that it turned his knuckles white, he leaned forward. 
 "My Heaven! John! The worry over that paper - 
 the temptation of it is killing me. My peace 
 lies in parting with it yet my honor guards it." 
 
 The captain had cast aside restraint; his voice 
 was raised. His son looked at him as if fascinated; 
 in reality, he was stunned by this exhibition, and his 
 half-consumed cigarette fell to the floor as he bit 
 through it. There was hardly a moment of silence 
 before the captain went on, an inward excitement 
 becoming more and more outwardly visible. He
 
 THE CONFESSION 17 
 
 held his hands toward his son as though in appeal. 
 "John, I have come to it at last! I am a ruined man! 
 Not through speculation or unwise investment; I 
 never was money-mad or had enough to play with, 
 but but I have been haunted until that paper alone 
 can satisfy the demand of the vampire who has sucked 
 my blood for ten years. Ten years, Jack! I am 
 almost spent ruined by a blackmailer!" 
 
 The young man got unsteadily to his feet. "Black 
 mailed! You, blackmailed!" he exclaimed, his dark 
 eyes distended with astonishment. The old man, 
 now pale from exertion, nodded. 
 
 "Yes; for an unwarranted act in my early life. 
 I dare not tell you. It has been hanging over my 
 conscience for forty years, and for the last ten has 
 threatened me like the sword of Damocles. Under 
 it I have been broken physically and financially 
 and the finish is near. I am at the end of my resources. 
 I have robbed your future, but but" his hands 
 clenched "the final price I will not pay. / will not 
 pay! It is a matter of my honor."
 
 CHAPTER II 
 A TRAGEDY 
 
 FOR a few moments the two men looked at 
 each other, the younger one standing, his 
 eyes wide and his emotion too great to admit 
 of action. Had his father struck him he would have 
 been less incapable of thought and speech. 
 
 He felt like one who had gone gaily along a pleasant 
 path to find himself suddenly confronting a yawning 
 precipice, and he was as well aware in that moment 
 that his easy, devil-may-care life had come to a 
 full stop as he was later when the prospect became 
 a certainty. 
 
 It was the captain who first broke the oppressive 
 silence a silence so profound that the ticking of 
 the French clock on the cabinet mantel dominated 
 all other sounds. He raised himself slowly, and 
 smiled a wan, forced smile. 
 
 "I need not have been so violent so brutally 
 violent," he said, quite calmly and with a slight wave 
 of his hand. "The matter got the better of me. The 
 excitement was bad bad! I was told to guard 
 against it. But I am glad I spoke, John. I think 
 
 18
 
 A TRAGEDY 19 
 
 I feel better for it, though it took all my nerve- 
 force." 
 
 The young man seemed to awake from a dream. 
 
 "I am not sure I know what has happened," he 
 said, passing his hand over his eyes. "I hope I 
 have misunderstood you, sir." 
 
 "I spoke plainly enough, I think," returned the 
 other, with the uncalled-for testiness of the heart 
 sufferer, who can usually brook neither stupidity 
 nor opposition. 
 
 "Possibly," returned the young man, ignoring 
 his father s tone, "but I still feel somewhat abroad, 
 and have not yet got the thing into proper mental 
 focus. I only made out two concrete facts, sir. 
 First, a paper is hidden in a picture; and, second, 
 that you have been the victim of someone you 
 did not mention whom. What are the relations be 
 tween the two? I ll answer for the settlement of 
 your enemy, if you will give me his name and tell 
 me where he can be found." 
 
 "Which is tantamount to expressing a desire to 
 ruin your family s reputation! It was to save this 
 that has brought me so low!" 
 
 "But, sir, I have a right to know, even if you 
 forbid me to act." 
 
 "Yes but not to-night. I am not equal to it. 
 I have spent myself." 
 
 "And when, then?" There was little softness 
 in the young man s voice, and his attitude was 
 truculent, though the latter did not reflect on the
 
 20 THE RED PAPER 
 
 old gentleman who now sat in his chair in a semi- 
 collapsed state; but the question was eagerly put, 
 and demanded an answer. 
 
 "To-morrow, perhaps. Yes, to-morrow. But not 
 this way, John. I can write and be calm. I will 
 write it all." 
 
 "And the name of him?" 
 
 "Yes everything." 
 
 "You promise?" 
 
 "I promise. I have only this to say now. Never 
 part with that paper until you can place it in the 
 hands of Grace Merridale. She will be of age in 
 two months. Your responsibility will be short. 
 I will write an explanation of its nature, for she 
 would know nothing about it no more than you. 
 And be careful, for if that monstrous villain should 
 become aware 
 
 "No more to-night, dad," interrupted the young 
 man, as he saw signs of a return of his father s 
 excitement. "Write it all out to-morrow. Let me 
 help you upstairs." 
 
 "No no; I am all right again," said the old 
 gentleman, impatient at the interruption. "Go to 
 bed yourself. I will follow soon. It is not yet eleven. 
 I will read awhile; I could not sleep now. Good 
 night, John." 
 
 It was a curt dismissal, but it might as well have 
 been a command, for the son had always respected 
 his father s slightest wish. He hesitated a moment, 
 then laid one hand on the captain s shoulder and
 
 A TRAGEDY 21 
 
 held out the other. He had not been so demon 
 strative in years. 
 
 "Good-night, dad. Whatever has been or what 
 ever is to be, we are as one in this." 
 
 His father grasped the outstretched hand and his 
 eyes became moist. "Good-night, Jack. God bless 
 you, my lad. I have been foolish to bear this load 
 alone for I might have known I could depend on you 
 to help me out. I wish I had spoken before. I 
 might have been saved much." 
 
 With a feeling too deep to be expressed in words 
 the young man turned and left the library, but he 
 did not go to his own apartments. Sleep, or even 
 bed, was out of the question for him. Like one 
 dazed by a blow which still left him part of his 
 faculties, he took his hat from the broad antlers 
 which hung in the hall, and went into the hot, still 
 night, closing the door softly behind him. As he 
 did so he felt that he had forever shut out his old 
 life that a new epoch had dawned for him; but the 
 idea was misty and lacked detail; it did not startle him. 
 
 As the white-haired man in the library heard the 
 front door close behind his son he threw aside the 
 book he had taken from the table, shook his fist 
 at the imaginary presence of someone; then with 
 an air of determination and with a grim smile on 
 his handsome mouth he drew a sheet of paper before 
 him and began to write to his son. It was perhaps 
 fortunate that he did not take out and complete the 
 letter he was writing earlier in the evening.
 
 22 THE RED PAPER 
 
 John Wentworth walked up the avenue with his 
 head in something of a whirl. He had received a 
 distinct shock. To him it seemed impossible that 
 his father could have laid himself open to blackmail, 
 and that the honorable name of his family was in 
 danger of being publicly smirched. The young man 
 had been too bewildered to inquire into the nature 
 of the fault (he dared not call it crime) for which 
 his father suffered, and he knew that even had he 
 thought to, he could not have asked. Unless his 
 father voluntarily revealed this mysterious act of his 
 youth, he, his son, could not force his confidence. 
 
 And to John Wentworth it made little difference 
 whether or not his parent was guilty; he was too 
 loyal to his blood, too proud of his name, to fail to 
 spring to the defense of that which was dear to him. 
 It was all too mysterious for his open nature. He 
 tried to throw it from his mind, but failed. Like 
 the refrain of a popular air which sometimes catches 
 the brain and echoes through it until it becomes un 
 bearable, the words " blackmail" and "crime" sang in 
 John Wentworth s ears. He was impatient for the 
 morrow when he hoped he would know all and could 
 determine how to act; and after that what? 
 
 He walked along like a man in a dream and without 
 more definite object than to keep moving. Of the 
 presumably important subject the paper concealed 
 in the painting he did not think at all, and the 
 name of Merridale did not once enter his head. At 
 Fifty-ninth Street he turned into Central Park and
 
 A TRAGEDY 23 
 
 strode through the black shadows without realizing 
 his whereabouts. What paths he traced he never 
 knew, but he was finally brought to himself by a 
 policeman, who demanded his business there at that 
 hour. He pulled out his watch. It was one o clock. 
 Wentworth came to himself. "I think I have no 
 business here," he said. "I did not realize how 
 late it was." 
 
 "Walkin off a still, like as not! Don t you know 
 where you are?" asked the patrolman. 
 
 "I m afraid not," said Wentworth, looking around. 
 
 "Well, yer at the upper end of Central Park, 
 and you ll get right out into the street. Who are 
 you, anyhow?" 
 
 "I am a respectable citizen, at least," returned 
 the young man, a trifle upset in his dignity, as he 
 produced his card bearing his name and residence. 
 
 "We ll let it go at that," said the other. "You 
 had better be home and in bed. Go straight ahead 
 and out, me man, and don t let me see you around 
 here again." 
 
 Indignant, yet feeling a vague sense of humility, 
 Wentworth left the park and turned east to Fifth 
 Avenue. From there he strode homeward, his brain 
 in better order from his encounter, though it was 
 far from being settled. Nearly an hour later he 
 swung into his own street; and as he neared his 
 home, he saw the lights in his father s library were 
 still burning at full blast, and that the windows 
 were yet wide open. There was something in the
 
 24 THE RED PAPER 
 
 sight that hurried his heart and steps, and turning 
 the corner, he bounded up the stoop. 
 
 In a moment more he was in the hall, dark now, 
 as the library door was closed. Feeling his way 
 through the gloom, Wentworth reached the door, 
 and, without the formality of knocking, threw it 
 open. The conditions meeting his sight caused him 
 to stagger back with a quick cry. 
 
 At first glance the room seemed to be in great 
 confusion. Papers covered the carpet; the desk- 
 chair was upset, the drawers of the writing-table 
 were either wide open or pulled out entirely and lay 
 on the floor. In front of the open fireplace was 
 the body of Captain Wentworth, flat on his back, 
 arms outstretched and collar and necktie torn as 
 if from a struggle. 
 
 With a bound John was at his father s side; but 
 he knew the old gentleman was dead, even before 
 he placed his hand over the still heart. When he 
 did so he drew it back quickly. It was wet, not 
 with blood, but with ice-water. The captain s shirt 
 and vest were soaked, his white hair was matted with 
 water, and water still hung in drops on his set face, 
 while a lump of ice, which had not yet had time to 
 melt, lay on the floor a few feet away. 
 
 With his sight quickened by the conditions, the 
 young man noticed that the cut-glass ice-pitcher 
 lay on the floor near the body of his father, and that 
 a little beyond the carpet was black and soaking with 
 water. On the body itself there were no immediately
 
 A TRAGEDY 25 
 
 discernible marks of violence beyond the torn collar 
 and necktie, and that ordinary robbery had not been 
 the motive of assault if assault there had been 
 was plain from the fact that the captain s heavy gold 
 watch-chain and watch were still on his person, and 
 his open coat gave no evidence of his pockets having 
 been rifled. 
 
 With each nerve in his robust body tingling, yet 
 with a calmness for which he never could account, 
 John raised himself and looked about. A single 
 glance showed the young man, whose every sense 
 had suddenly become abnormally acute, that beyond 
 the capsized pivot-chair, the scattered papers, the 
 open drawers, and the misplaced ice-pitcher, there was 
 nothing about the room that indicated any unusual 
 happening. 
 
 With a comprehensive glance he took in the picture 
 containing the hidden paper; but, like its fellows, 
 it had been undisturbed. He stepped to the desk. 
 In the center of the blotting-pad lay the paper on 
 which the captain had been writing. The pen lay 
 across it; it, at least, had been overlooked or had not 
 been considered worthy of violent treatment. John 
 Wentworth picked it up and read mechanically and 
 with little understanding: 
 
 My Son: 
 
 I have determined at once to set down, in their proper 
 order, the events that led to our conversation this evening. 
 I write now as I know I shall not sleep until the matter
 
 26 THE RED PAPER 
 
 is off my mind. As for the paper, the meaning of 
 which I will explain to you after you have read this, 
 I wish to impress on you that Grace Merridale will be 
 of age in December of this year, and I have 
 
 Here the writing abruptly ended, and the captain 
 had evidently carefully put down his pen. The cause 
 of the interruption was not clear, but the surrounding 
 confusion partly explained it. Had the young man 
 lifted the broad pink blotting pad he would have 
 seen the other letter his father had been writing 
 and had concealed just before his son s advent into 
 the library a few hours before; and in that event 
 he might have had his eyes suddenly opened. But 
 for John Wentworth the time was not yet ripe. 
 ,;% As he read the words, the last ever written by his 
 parent who lay dead on the floor, he let the paper fall 
 to the pad while a sudden realization of his own 
 calmness and unreasonable inaction took possession 
 of him, and his passion rose and surged through him 
 with volcanic energy. Having a fine instinct for 
 the requirements of the law, he disturbed nothing; 
 but with a wild glance about him, he sprang to the 
 window, stepped to the balcony outside, and sent 
 his voice into the night : 
 
 "Police! Murder! Help!" 
 
 Then in an ecstasy of action he tore from the 
 library, and upstairs three steps at a time, to where 
 Thomas, the butler, had his room on the top floor. 
 The faithful old servant nearly fell out of bed at the
 
 A TRAGEDY 27 
 
 thunderous summons that roused him, but before 
 he could comprehend more than the words: "The 
 captain is murdered in the library!" Wentworth was 
 downstairs again and at the telephone, demanding 
 police headquarters. That done, he so far collapsed 
 as to sink into the leather chair in the library; and 
 when the police finally arrived, being let in by the 
 silent Thomas, they found him staring at his father s 
 body. 
 
 Three hours later John Wentworth and Police 
 Inspector Barrow sat together in the closed parlor, 
 a single gas jet in the crystal chandelier barely 
 lighting the great room. Gray dawn was stealing 
 through the windows and still the house seemed 
 full of strange people who passed through the hall 
 and up and down the front stairs. In the mixed 
 light the young man s face had the color of ashes; 
 he looked years older as he crouched in the depths 
 of a Turkish chair, his white hands folded and nerve 
 less. The official, with another chair drawn close, 
 faced him squarely. 
 
 "You have told me you believe your father to 
 have been murdered," remarked the policeman, 
 after a close inspection of the face before him, and 
 with a hard, business-like air that was anything 
 but soothing to the jaded system of the other. 
 
 "I told you so; and you can judge the rest from 
 appearances," was the weary answer. 
 
 "There is a well-worn adage that appearances are 
 often deceitful," was the prompt return. "Aside
 
 28 THE RED PAPER 
 
 from the looks of the room, what makes you think 
 there has been foul play?" 
 
 Wentworth unclasped his hands and passed them 
 over his heavy eyes as if to clear his vision. "Noth 
 ing tangible, in fact," he slowly answered, as if 
 struggling to hold his senses. "I only know my 
 father had an enemy. He told me of it to-night; 
 evidently a bitter enemy. It was the first I was 
 aware of such a thing." 
 
 Any name?" 
 
 "I did not ask him for the name." 
 
 "Any threats?" 
 
 "Not against his life, directly, but against his 
 reputation. My father told me he was being per 
 secuted. You saw the few lines addressed to me; 
 he told me he would reduce all the facts to writing; 
 he evidently went about it at once and was inter 
 rupted by death. His statement to me had been a 
 stunning blow." 
 
 "I presume so. And where were you to-night, 
 sir?" The inspector fixed his hard eyes on the 
 young man. 
 
 Wentworth met the look with the vacant stare 
 of a sleep-walker. "I have no idea at what time I 
 left the house," he answered. "It must have been 
 near eleven o clock. I had been to see a friend off 
 on the ten o clock train. I then came home and 
 talked with the captain. After that I have no 
 clear recollection of where I went, but at one o clock 
 I was at One Hundred and Tenth Street and Central
 
 A TRAGEDY 29 
 
 Park. I had been disturbed shocked and must 
 have walked far. At the upper end of the park a 
 patrolman stopped me. I gave him my card. You 
 may verify this without trouble." 
 
 Inspector Barrow leaned back in his chair, took 
 a cigar from his pocket and lighted it, puffing slowly. 
 "Well, sir," he said, after a few moments contempla 
 tion of the man before him, "you are rather too 
 played out to talk to-night, but it may be or may 
 not be to your satisfaction that in regard to your 
 father we see no definite sign of foul play." 
 
 "No sign of foul play!" exclaimed the other, 
 lifting himself from his state of semi-lethargy. 
 
 "No, sir. The doctor who has been examining 
 the remains of Captain Wentworth reports no marks 
 of violence on the body of the deceased none but 
 a slight scratch on his throat, probably made by 
 himself as he tore away his collar in a struggle for 
 air. You have said he was suffering from a serious 
 heart difficulty, but that remains for the corcmer 
 to determine by autopsy; my business deals with 
 present appearances." 
 
 "Would he tear open the drawers in his desk 
 in a struggle for air?" asked the young man, now 
 thoroughly aroused. "Think one moment. This 
 house is on the corner; only a tall iron fence separates 
 it from the side street. An athletic man especially 
 a desperate one -could scale it with little difficulty. 
 The library is in the rear, the windows had been 
 left open, and the balcony was easily accessible from
 
 30 THE RED PAPER 
 
 the yard. At night, when the house is closed, the 
 windows are secured by shutters, and heavily 
 barred on account of the exposed position. To 
 night they were open, as I know. 
 
 "Again. Would my father flood himself with 
 water in one spot you saw the carpet then go 
 to another part of the room and set down the ice- 
 pitcher? If struggling for air, would he attempt 
 extra exertion? Pull out drawers scatter papers- 
 carry a heavy pitcher from the stand? This thing 
 happened immediately before I returned; the ice 
 had not yet melted on the carpet. You have several 
 detectives here?" 
 
 " Of course." 
 
 "Then let them look into it. I am in the dark 
 as to all the facts, but, by Heaven! had I the name 
 of the captain s blackmailer I think I might lay my 
 finger on his murderer." 
 
 The inspector s face showed a new and sudden 
 interest. "Blackmailed! For what?" 
 
 "I would to God I could tell you. I don t know. 
 I understood that all was to be put in writing." 
 
 "And you have not the name of the man?" 
 
 "Sir, I have no idea of it nor of his whereabouts. 
 This thing came on me like a clap of thunder." 
 
 Wentworth got to his feet as he spoke, clutching 
 the back of the chair to steady himself. The detective 
 eyed him coldly as he, too, got up and moved toward 
 the door. "Well," he returned, "the matter is now 
 up to the coroner. A man may be blackmailed,
 
 A TRAGEDY 31 
 
 and die during the process, but not necessarily by 
 the hands of his blackmailer. So far as I am at 
 present concerned the matter is simple. Of course 
 there is a shadow of a doubt about the cause of your 
 father s death; but whether or not it was the result 
 of foul play of crime must be decided by the 
 coroner s jury. Nothing has been missed?" 
 
 "Nothing that I can determine." 
 
 "Then, if a crime has been committed, robbery 
 was not the motive. You see the murder theory is 
 rather forced, young man, and perhaps fortunately 
 for you. Had I held it, I should be obliged to arrest 
 both you and your servant. But what do you know 
 about your butler?" 
 
 "About Thomas? Why, I would trust him with 
 everything as I would have trusted my father. 
 He came to us the year I was born twenty-nine 
 years ago. He loved my father as my father loved 
 him. He is more than a servant. As for myself, 
 I hardly think I would contradict your theory, if 
 I was a guilty party." 
 
 "That very fact is your best hold, my friend," 
 returned the officer, as he laid his hand on the knob 
 of the door. "This will be all for to-night. I shall 
 leave men in charge of the house until the coroner 
 arrives. Now, if you take my advice you will get 
 yourself outside of a hooker of whiskey, and turn 
 in. You are done up, sir, and no wonder. By to 
 morrow you will look at matters in a different light." 
 
 Wentworth was about to reply when a knock
 
 32 THE RED PAPER 
 
 sounded on the panel of the heavy mahogany door. 
 The inspector threw it open and disclosed a young 
 fellow standing in the hall. He was a stocky youth, 
 with a fresh and pleasant face. 
 
 "What is it?" sharply demanded the officer. 
 
 "I would like to speak to Mr. Wentworth for a 
 moment/ was the answer. 
 
 "Who are you, sir?" 
 
 "I am from the Central Detective Bureau." 
 
 "Oh, you are! Well, you had better cork your 
 self until morning. I don t think Mr. Wentworth 
 can stand anything more. You see his condition." 
 
 And it was apparent that the bereaved man had 
 about reached his limit. Excitement, shock and 
 lack of rest had sapped his strength. He tottered 
 and leaned against the wall and might have fallen 
 to the floor only that the watchful Thomas glided 
 noiselessly past the policeman, and, putting his arm 
 around his young master, led him away. 
 
 "You are right, Inspector," said the strange 
 detective. "I ll wait until morning though I would 
 rather see him to-night." He looked after the old 
 servant helping Wentworth upstairs. 
 
 "What s the lay, young fellow?" asked the in 
 spector, as the two disappeared above. The other 
 looked the official squarely in the face, and laughed. 
 
 "Do you discover any verdancy in either of my 
 optics, sir?" he asked, opening wide his blue eyes. 
 And with that he swung his back to the other, and 
 walked from the house.
 
 CHAPTER III 
 A LETTER AND ITS CONSEQUENCES 
 
 IT WAS three weeks later. 
 John Wentworth sat in his apartments in 
 the Van Dyke studios, palette and brushes in 
 hand, but he was not working; instead, he was 
 gazing vacantly at the half-finished painting before 
 him, the abstraction in his eyes showing that his 
 thoughts were far from his surroundings. 
 
 The studio itself differed in no wise from others in 
 its general character, save, perhaps, in that it was 
 more luxurious than most, while it lacked the indefinite 
 note of professionalism. There were numerous rugs 
 on its broad floor, numerous hangings on the walls, 
 the latter being covered with sketches and a number 
 of really fine photographs. Books were strewn about 
 in profusion; a large camera faced a clouded back 
 ground, and near it were a number of photographic 
 accessories. 
 
 In a corner was a rack of fencing-foils, well used, 
 together with boxing-gloves, Indian-clubs, and the 
 impedimenta of an athlete. There were rug-covered 
 divans and easy-chairs, and over all an air of careless 
 
 33
 
 34 THE BED PAPER 
 
 comfort, which was not dissipated by the hard, cold 
 light which fell from the immense but partly cur 
 tained north window. 
 
 From this studio opened two smaller rooms; one 
 elaborately fitted as a photographic dark-room, the 
 other recently furnished as a bedchamber. For to 
 Wentworth had come the realization of the fleeting 
 consciousness of immanent change which had beset 
 him at his last interview with his father. He was 
 now living in his studio. 
 
 The past days had been trying ones for the young 
 man, the fact showing on his pale, drawn face. 
 But no weakness was apparent. Under his small 
 mustache the lines of his mouth remained firm, 
 and his broad chin was aggressively strong; only 
 his dark eyes and unusual pallor showed the effects 
 of his trouble. And he was far from being satis 
 fied. To him life had flattened out, at least tempo 
 rarily, and human acumen appeared a thing to be 
 scoffed at. For after a post-mortem examination of 
 his father s body, and a further searching by the 
 police of every circumstance concerning Captain 
 Wentworth s sudden demise the jury had brought 
 in a verdict of death from heart-disease progressive 
 mitral insufficiency and not a soul was implicated, 
 even in theory. The heart difficulty was indis 
 putable; and though there was no explanation for 
 the state of the library on the night of the captain s 
 death, there was nothing definite in the minds of 
 the jury to point to foul play. The general excite-
 
 A LETTER AND ITS CONSEQUENCES 35 
 
 ment occasioned by the tragedy in high life had run 
 its course and subsided, and the public, possibly 
 disappointed at the lack of sensational features, was 
 awaiting some new tragedy in some new quarter. 
 
 Had not the young man s ample fortune been 
 independent of his father s estate he would have 
 found himself in a serious position at this time; 
 for. though the captain s will gave everything, without 
 reservation, to his son, who was also sole executor 
 of the estate, investigation soon showed that the 
 old gentleman had but few resources left, the very 
 mansion in which he had lived being so heavily 
 mortgaged that there would be little equity left for 
 the heir; and the Wentworth residence, with most 
 of its contents, had been offered for sale, only the 
 faithful Thomas remaining as care-taker. What fur 
 niture the young man had desired to retain was 
 moved to the studio, together with all the pictures 
 and bric-a-brac. Several unopened cases stood in 
 the passage, but the painting containing the hidden 
 paper was boxed and in John s bedroom. 
 
 He had taken it down and packed it with his own 
 hands, but had not attempted to break open the 
 brown paper stretched and pasted over the back; 
 events had moved so swiftly and his mind had been 
 so engrossed by important matters that he had 
 scarcely thought of the red paper or of the girl to 
 whom it belonged. 
 
 As for his father s trusteeship for Grace Merridale, 
 Wentworth had placed the whole matter in the
 
 36 THE RED PAPER 
 
 hands of a lawyer who had presumably notified the 
 lady in question and had promised to communicate 
 with John as soon as she was located; the last not 
 an easy matter as no address could be found more 
 definite than that of Mason County, Texas. 
 
 And it was fairly evident that Captain Wentwortlr s 
 trust had not been onerous since there was no trace 
 of any correspondence between him and his ward, 
 a fact perhaps explained by the smallncss of the 
 amount of property involved. In this the red paper 
 was not included, and for some reason unrecognized 
 by himself Wentworth said nothing about the mys 
 terious document to his lawyer. He looked upon 
 the delivery of the paper as aside from legal pro 
 cedure; to him it was a matter of honor that he 
 should personally place the paper in the hands of the 
 one to whom it belonged. His father had requested 
 it, and that was sufficient for him. Any further 
 interest in the lady was entirely lacking, and it was 
 only for the wish to carry out his dead parent s 
 desire that he cared a fig for her whereabouts. 
 
 The young man had not been bored to death by 
 condolences, spoken or written. Men of his tem 
 perament do not invite many intimates, and the 
 world is not inclined to grieve over one who does 
 not bid for its lamentations. In this case the bereaved 
 seemed to have armed himself in a hard shell of 
 reserve, and bore his trouble alone, and society con 
 sidered him cold. 
 
 But he was not cold; he was only discriminate.
 
 A LETTER AND ITS CONSEQUENCES 37 
 
 He cared nothing for lip-service, but he would have 
 given much to have had his one intimate friend 
 his old college chum, Tom Harper, with him during 
 his trials. Harper was a rather debonair bachelor 
 of Wentworth s own age, and the two held similar 
 tastes. By profession he was a mining engineer, 
 though of slight practise, and possessor of sufficient 
 wealth, and larger prospects, to kill ordinary ambition. 
 The two men were usual!} inseparable. 
 
 It was Tom Harper for whom Wentworth was 
 now longing, and it was not an indication of deplorable 
 weakness in him tint he wished to unburden himself 
 to the only man in the world in whom he had perfect 
 confidence. But Harper was on a hunting trio and 
 could not be located. For himself, Wentworth was 
 unused to business matters; his friend could have 
 helped by his advice, and, more than that, by the 
 comfort of his presence. It had been a weary time 
 for the lonely man; the mere shock of his father s 
 death, without the attending circumstances, would 
 have been enough; and the trace of femininity in 
 him, which is in all males worth} of the name 
 of man, cried out for a sympathy that mere com 
 panions were incapable of satisfying. 
 
 Wentworth, brush in hand, came back from his 
 wool-gathering expedition and looked around the well- 
 filled but silent room, self-disgust written on his face; 
 then, with an impatient, shrug of his broad shoulders, 
 he threw down his palette, speared his brushes into 
 the vase at his side, and gave the easel a kick.
 
 38 THE KED PAPER 
 
 "Damn it!" he exclaimed aloud. "I can t work! 
 I can do nothing! I have no object in life but to 
 exist! I live on the labor of others! I am a cursed 
 social incubus a man without a motive." 
 
 lie had barely realized that he was protesting 
 aloud, when a knock sounded on the door, and with 
 the privilege of his position, Thomas entered without 
 ceremony. As regularly as the day came the old 
 man went to the young one. 
 
 " Good-afternoon, Thomas." 
 
 "Good-afternoon, Master John. A letter and a 
 telegram, sir." He handed out the white and the 
 yellow envelopes, and stood, deferentially, hat in 
 hand. 
 
 "Is that all?" 
 
 Yes, sir. Is there anything I can do, sir?" 
 
 "Xo, Thomas. Anything new? " 
 
 A gentleman called last evening, sir. He was 
 surprised to find that-- 
 
 "Yes yes. Go on." 
 
 "He inquired your address, sir, and said he would 
 communicate with you at once." 
 
 "Xo name?" 
 
 "Yes, sir; Merridale, sir." 
 
 "Merridale! A man by the name of Merridale!" 
 John s eyebrows contracted; the name roused a host 
 of painful memories. 
 
 "Yes, sir. Well-put-up man, sir, about middle 
 age. Was shocked to hear of your father." 
 
 "He left no other word?"
 
 A LETTER AXD ITS CONSEQUENCES 39 
 
 "Xo ; sir." 
 
 "That will do. Thomas." 
 
 The old man bowed and looked about the dis 
 ordered studio; then, moving softly, began putting 
 it to rights. 
 
 Without seeming to notice the butler s presence, 
 John opened the telegram, his face clearing as he 
 read: 
 
 Just from the woods. Learned of your awful 
 trouble. Be with you day after to-morrow. 
 
 Harper. 
 
 He laid the telegram aside and tore open the letter. 
 The writing was in a strange, masculine hand, but 
 the signature at the bottom of the short message 
 caught his eye. It was the name of the man Thomas 
 had but just told him about. The note ran thus: 
 
 Mr. John Wentworth. 
 My very dear Sir: 
 
 I knew your father and loved him, even as David 
 loved him. On my call at your late residence I was 
 inexpressibly shocked to learn of the captain s sudden 
 death. It is not in my nature to volunteer a formal 
 condolence, when condolence to you would be useless, and 
 it is not for that purpose I write. I had been expecting 
 to hear from my old friend on a matter of business, 
 relating to his trust for my niece, and now ask you, his
 
 40 THE RED PAPER 
 
 son, to call on me. If you can make it convenient to 
 call on me at an early date I will esteem ii a great favor. 
 I am, sir, sincerely yours. 
 
 Tliaddcus Mcrridale.. 
 
 Affixed was an address in West Eighty-fourth 
 Street. 
 
 The only unexplainable matter relating to the letter 
 was the fact that young Wentworth was unaware 
 that David Mcrridale ever had a brother. Surely 
 the captain had never mentioned him as existing, 
 much le.ss as an intimate friend. Yet it was possible 
 that an intimacy on a business basis had joined them, 
 and that the word "love" was but a concession to 
 the circumstance of the captain s death and his 
 son s state of mind. That there was, or had been, 
 a maiden sister living somewhere in Texas John had 
 heard, but that was all. He knew none of the 
 parties, and they had no interest for him. 
 
 But, interested or not, the name of Merridale 
 demanded consideration, and it took no second 
 thought to decide the young man to accede to the 
 request of the writer of the letter. A friend of his 
 late father couk.1 not be neglected; indeed, Wcntworth 
 looked forward to meeting the man who had stood 
 so close to his parent. His really affectionate nature 
 was stimulated by the prospect. 
 
 And in his present unsettled state of mind he 
 welcomed an excuse to quit his useless work; he 
 would go at once, and glad of having an object to
 
 A LETTER AND ITS CONSEQUENCES 41 
 
 determine his movements, inconsequential as that 
 object might be, and relieved by the prospect of 
 Harper s early return, he put on his hat, left Thomas 
 in the studio, and went out. Taking an elevated 
 train, he rode up-town, and in a short time turned 
 into West Eighty-fourth Street. 
 
 That thoroughfare, bet ween Columbus and Amster 
 dam Avenues, is a solid block of flats, not of a low 
 order, but far from being classed as high. The 
 asphalt pavement swarmed with noisy children at 
 play, and the canon of brick and brown stone echoed 
 with the cries of hawkers. Wcntworth found the 
 building he was in search of, the cheap ornatcness 
 of its vestibule and the scattered remains of trades 
 man s circulars on the soiled tiled floor impressing 
 him unfavorably. But there was the name of 
 " Merridale, " written in lead-pencil on a coarse card 
 thrust into the narrow slot above a broken letter-box. 
 
 As Wentworth pressed the tarnished electric button 
 and waited for the not over-clean glass door to open, 
 he noticed the fact that the first and second flats 
 were to let and untenantcd. The Merridales occupied 
 the third. 
 
 In a few moments the latch clicked, the door 
 swung open and the young man walked up the shabby 
 stairs and through a gloomy hall. He did not have 
 occasion to ring at the third flat. As he reached the 
 top step, the hall door leading to the apartment 
 was opened by a man who took John s proffered card, 
 stepped back into the light to read it, then came for-
 
 42 THE RED PAPER 
 
 ward, both hands outstretched in an effusive welcome. 
 
 "My dear sir, I am overjoyed! I did not look 
 for such a prompt reply to my request! Come in, 
 come in." 
 
 He led the way to the parlor. It was a meagerly 
 furnished apartment, and John s quick eye caught 
 the painful newness of its contents. Everything was 
 shop-fresh, from the crimson plush sofa and chairs 
 with the marks of the varnish brush on them, to the 
 gaudy but cheap rug which but partly covered the 
 stained pine floor. The papered walls were absolutely 
 barren of pictures, and there were no ornaments on 
 the glossy cabinet mantel of imitation rose\vood. 
 The only feature relieving the unattractive and 
 unhomelike interior was the blue pall of cigar smoke 
 that hung on the heavy air. 
 
 To the visitor it was quite evident that the Merri- 
 dales (if there were more than one) had uncultured 
 tastes, had but recently moved into the place, and 
 considering the surroundings, were not cursed with 
 an over-plusage of this world s wealth. 
 
 Beyond the parlor Wentworth caught sight of an 
 alcove room in which was a disordered bed, several 
 corded trunks, and an uncurtained window opening 
 on a broad shaft. Later he had reason to remember 
 these details. 
 
 "You will pardon the bareness and general unpre- 
 paredness of these apartments," began his host as 
 he noticed Wentworth s comprehensive glance. The 
 voice was smooth and well bred, the man s accent
 
 A LETTER AND ITS CONSEQUENCES 43 
 
 smacking strongly of the South. "It belongs to a 
 friend," he continued; "I have been here but a day 
 or two and hardly looked for you so soon. I am 
 charmed to make your distinguished acquaintance, 
 sir." The last word was pronounced suh. 
 
 "No apology is necessary," returned the other, as 
 he looked at the stocky figure before him, marking 
 the sun-browned complexion, the sun-bleached hair, 
 and large, slightly yellowed teeth. Merridale ap 
 peared to be between forty-five and fifty years old; 
 nicotine had stained his small, gray mustache until 
 its color made an excellent match for his teeth and 
 skin, and there was something indefinable about 
 him that checked Wentworth s previous readiness to 
 meet him with enthusiasm. 
 
 He did not like the narrowness and furtive glance 
 of his host s light-blue eyes, nor was he prepossessed 
 by his fulsome manner, and too ready laugh when 
 there had been nothing to laugh at. For himself, 
 he never smiled without cause, and then the smile 
 usually became a passport to good will. He waited 
 for Merridale to lead. If this interview should be 
 of a kind that appeared to concern his late father s 
 business interests he would promptly refer the man 
 to his lawyer; something about the place, or about 
 his host who was now pulling violently on a half- 
 consumed cigar, or both, made him anxious to finish 
 his call and get from the house as soon as possible. 
 
 And yet he could determine no reason for this 
 feeling, save, perhaps, that Merridale was not of his
 
 44 THE RED PAPER 
 
 class. He wondered how his father, whom he knew 
 to have been the soul of prejudice, could have become 
 intimate with a man so utterly lacking in savoir fairc. 
 
 His host walked to the door leading into the private 
 hall and closed it with considerable violence, even in 
 this slight way showing his lack of gentle breeding. 
 Evidently his smooth voice somewhat belied his 
 character. 
 
 "You smoke?" he asked, offering a mate to the 
 heavy cigar between his full lips. 
 
 "Thank younot now," said Wentworth, seating 
 himself on the hard sofa. 
 
 "Xo! Really, I couldn t live without it!" was 
 Merridale s return, as lie drew a chair before his 
 guest; drew it so close that the knees of the two 
 almost touched. "IJacl habit, though! Bad for 
 young men, but let s get right to the point! That s 
 my idea of business, even among friends. Eh? 
 Ain t I right?" 
 
 Wentworth made no answer. 
 
 "I think, you being a sensible man. I won t have 
 to detain you long," went on ?\Ierr ; d:i e, without 
 appearing to notice his visitor s lack of cordiality, 
 and himself assuming an air of friendly confidence. 
 "We ll jump right into the middle of it with both 
 feet, as we say in Texas. \ou see, sir, touching 
 Wentworth on the knee wiih a rather pudgy hand, 
 "I sent for you in the interest of my niece." 
 
 Wentworth looked at him will: sudden interest. 
 "Grace Merridale?" he asked.
 
 A LETTER AND ITS CONSEQUENCES 45 
 
 "Exactly ! Grace Merridale." This with a pursing 
 of the lips which had ceased to smile, and a profound 
 inclination of the head. "The er trust of your 
 father has passed, of course! May I ask who holds 
 the papers?" 
 
 "My lawyer." 
 
 "Doubtless! All of them?" 
 
 "All of a legal nature." 
 
 "Precisely! Really the amount is small too small 
 to be seriously considered by Grace, who is well-to-do 
 in right of her mother. My poor brother was not 
 fortunate." 
 
 "I know nothing of the amount, nor of the business, 
 in any way," returned Wentworth. He hesitated a 
 moment, and, as the other appeared to be cogitating 
 he added: "By the way, sir; you say you are David 
 Merridale s brother. I was not aware that David 
 had a brother; certainly my father never mentioned 
 him to me." 
 
 The smoking man took a quick glance at the speaker, 
 then leaned forward and again touched him on the 
 knee. His voice was somewhat lowered as he said: 
 
 "Naturally. But David was my half-brother only. 
 His mother, a widow, married her first husband s 
 cousin, of the same name. I am the perhaps regret 
 table result of their union. Then there was a family 
 difference a difficulty. Your father understood it. 
 Ah, sir, your father was one man in ten thousand!" 
 He leaned back as he uttered the last words. 
 
 Wentworth was not impressed by the platitude,
 
 46 THE RED PAPER 
 
 and the oily voice did not please him. The ridiculous 
 inference that any man could be other than one in 
 ten thousand caused him to smile slightly, a relaxation 
 which probably encouraged his host. But the younger 
 man now wished to terminate the interview which 
 seemed to lead to nothing. Somehow he felt uncom 
 fortable in his host s presence. "But you were 
 speaking of the papers. What of them?" he asked, 
 with the ease of bearing of one who understood 
 himself. 
 
 "Ah, yes the legal documents! I er spoke of 
 them merely by the way; they do not interest me, 
 being of small value. But David told me of a 
 certain paper which he wished which he had, or 
 er was about to place in your father s hands to 
 be given to Grace on or about her twenty-first 
 birthday. It was to be quite outside of the legal 
 trust, I was led to understand. Does it happen 
 that er you have ever heard of it?" 
 
 "Yes," returned Wentworth, with an involuntary 
 stiffening of his mental attitude. 
 
 "A er red paper? A er of no value except 
 to her?" 
 
 "Yes. Do you know its nature?" 
 
 "No. Do you?" 
 
 "I do not." 
 
 " Strange, is it not? " The man laughed awkwardly, 
 but to the astute young fellow was conveyed the 
 idea that Mr. Merridale was pleased at his 
 ignorance.
 
 A LETTER AND ITS CONSEQUENCES 47 
 
 "Hardly strange, since I only knew of the paper s 
 existence on the night of my father s death." 
 
 "Ah! Well, it was this pa He stopped 
 abruptly, for at that moment the room door opened. 
 John looked up. 
 
 A lady stood in the doorway a young lady, 
 dressed for the street. Her figure, clad in a tailor- 
 made costume, was tall and of faultless proportions, 
 and her face was striking not alone from its beauty, 
 which was great, nor from its freshness, which was 
 palpable enough, but from a certain cold reserve. 
 Whether the latter was natural or assumed, the young 
 man could not guess; but he looked at her as much 
 in surprise at her sudden and unexpected appearance 
 as in admiration. 
 
 "I I beg your pardon," she faltered, directing 
 her gaze and remark to Mr. Merridale. "I I 
 thought you were alone. I am going out now." 
 
 The words came sweetly though the face was 
 unsmiling, and there was a slight hesitation which 
 was in strong contrast to her confident bearing. 
 Merridale made no attempt to introduce the young 
 man. His brows knitted as if the interruption had 
 annoyed him and disturbed his temper. "I thought 
 you had gone out long since, my dear," he said with 
 smoothness. 
 
 Instead of answering the girl flushed as if startled 
 by the affectionate term; but she flashed a look of 
 utter indifference at the speaker; then with a sweeping 
 glance at the young man on the sofa, a glance filled
 
 48 THE RED PAPER 
 
 with an expression of disdain, she retired, closing 
 the door behind her. 
 
 Merridale sat back in his chair and seemed to take 
 a long breath. "My daughter, sir," he said easily, 
 as he relighted his extinguished cigar. 
 
 "Your daughter?" 
 
 "Yes, my daughter Ethel, Grace s cousin. She 
 has a peculiar nature, as you may have observed. 
 I must apologize for her bruskness. She is not at 
 all like me not at all. It is unfortunate that the 
 girls do not agree. They can bear little from each 
 other." 
 
 To this Wentworth vouchsafed nothing. He had 
 heard of women who were angels in appearance but 
 possessed the temper of the devil. 
 
 "Now, as I was about to remark," continued the 
 other, with an attempt at lightness of manner, 
 "regarding the paper the red paper I can save 
 you heaps of trouble, sir. I am about to return to 
 Texas, and will place it in Grace s hands. Such a 
 paper needs safe transit, and well, with her, I am 
 myself interested in it." 
 
 "You told me you were not aware of its nature," 
 returned the young man, with an air of surprise. 
 
 "Did I? But Grace is aware of it." 
 
 "My father informed me that she has no knowledge 
 of it. Moreover, Mr. Merridale, my father made 
 it a point of honor, for some reason, that I should 
 give that paper to her myself. I do not count the 
 cost of trouble in fulfilling any wish of his."
 
 A LETTER AND ITS CONSEQUENCES 49 
 
 "Of course, you have this document?" 
 
 "Certainly. It is safe in my studio my apart 
 ments. As soon as I can get into communication 
 with your niece I will take the proper steps." 
 
 Merridale got up from his chair, paced the room 
 twice, then returned and reseated himself. 
 
 "But, Mr. Wentworth," he said with an accession 
 of soft- voiced confidence, "my niece has assigned 
 her interests in that paper to me." 
 
 "Then she is at liberty to give it to you with her 
 own hands. I will not." 
 
 "You will not?" 
 
 "I will not." 
 
 "You make that statement as final?" 
 
 "As final; yes, sir." 
 
 "Then, Mr. Wentworth, permit me to inform you 
 that you arc depriving me of my rights." The voice 
 was a trifle harsh, and the hitherto ready smile 
 disappeared. " Time, in this matter, is important to 
 inc. Can I make it an object to you to alter your 
 mind?" 
 
 "You mean that you would bribe me?" 
 
 The other laughed harshly, and waved a pudgy 
 hand. 
 
 "You might be a trifle more euphemistic but I 
 suppose, between us as men, you know we might 
 come to an understanding." 
 
 John s heart began to beat violently. "What is 
 your figure?" he inquired calmly, though his nerves 
 had become tense.
 
 50 THE RED PAPER 
 
 "Well, sir, I happen to be aware that you have 
 come somewhat short in your expectations from your 
 father. Let us say, one thousand dollars. That is 
 liberal. You are not responsible to any one in this; 
 you would not be remiss in any legal require 
 ment." 
 
 "In no legal requirement, true; but I shall consider 
 my father s wish, even if it necessitates a trip to 
 Texas. The latter would not be unpleasant. It is 
 my honor which is involved. 
 
 "Your honor! Why, my dear sir my dear sir, 
 I have 
 
 Wentworth s face grew hot. "No, sir," he inter 
 rupted. "I anticipate what you would argue! It 
 is useless! You have proposed a transaction which 
 is insulting in itself, which is repugnant, and which 
 I_refuse utterly." 
 
 The other looked at him steadily, then began 
 pacing the floor. His face bore an ugly frown, 
 though his voice was not aggressive. 
 
 "Mr. Wentworth," he said, flicking the ash from 
 his cigar, "there is a man I know him well w y ho 
 once told me a story relating to your father a 
 story that would blast his reputation, were it known. 
 May I be plain?" 
 
 "The plainer the better, sir," said Wentworth, 
 but with that in his voice which should have warned 
 the other. 
 
 "Well, it would have placed him in the grip of the 
 law." He stopped, glancing at his seated guest from
 
 A LETTER AND ITS CONSEQUENCES 51 
 
 the corner of his eye as he coolly wet and rewound 
 the loose end of his ragged cigar. 
 
 Wentworth felt all the blood in his body rising to 
 his head, but he made no movement of surprise 
 as he got a grip on himself and said: "Yes? And 
 the nature of the crime? I have heard something 
 of it, but nothing definite." 
 
 Merridale did not answer the direct question, but 
 went on with exasperating coolness: "Such a story 
 would not be relished by any man of your caste, 
 sir, though the hungry public would find it enter 
 taining." 
 
 "And the nature of it?" repeated Wentworth, 
 leaning forward and raising his voice. 
 
 "You wish it given explicitly?" 
 
 "Explicitly." 
 
 "Well, sir, it is nothing less than the greatest of 
 crimes coupled with the meanest. I mean murder 
 and robbery, if you insist upon having the truth." 
 
 If W r entworth had been struck in the face by the 
 man before him he could hardly have been more 
 stunned. Murder! His father charged with murder! 
 The idea was too preposterous. And robbery! 
 Captain Wentworth, the soul of honor, a thief! 
 The young man stared at Merridale, less stirred by the 
 charge than by the temerity of the person who had 
 made it. He now saw, or thought he saw, the char 
 acter of the individual who had traduced the memory 
 of his dead parent. He suddenly hated the fellow, 
 but he was too well poised to break into a tirade of
 
 52 THE RED PAPER 
 
 denunciation. He got a firm hold on himself and 
 rose to his feet. 
 
 "And you, sir; do you really believe it?" he 
 asked, speaking with dangerous calmness. 
 
 "That is neither here nor there/ said Merridale, 
 with the air of a man who sees and is ready to push 
 what he thinks is an advantage. "But I assure 
 you, sir, that once I am in possession of the paper 
 in question, the man would be forever silent. 
 
 "What is his name? Where can he be found?" 
 
 The Southerner s heavy face lighted. "I will not 
 tell you his whereabouts, Mr. Wentworth; that 
 would be too much like crowding the mourners; 
 but if you wish to come to terms with me I am willing 
 to tell you his name. It is Welch. Did you ever 
 hear of him?" 
 
 "No. And so through him you would attempt to 
 blackmail me even as he blackmailed my father." 
 
 "You are speaking rather too plainly; but I will 
 say that in the event of your refusal to give up the 
 paper I will no longer hold him to silence, as I have 
 been doing. The thing is useless to you you could 
 not even read it; and now that the captain is dead 
 Welch alone has the key." 
 
 W T entworth s blood was boiling with anger. It was 
 all he could do to keep his hands from the now 
 grinning man who faced him and who seemed to be 
 unaware of his own lack of skill in playing his 
 hand. 
 
 "You now say Welch alone has the key. But a
 
 A LETTER AND ITS CONSEQUENCES 53 
 
 few moments since you told me that Grace Merridale 
 was aware of the contents of that paper." 
 
 "I told you nothing of the kind," retorted Merri 
 dale, his face flushing darkly as he realized his break. 
 
 "I say you did. You have trapped yourself." 
 
 "You are a liar, sir. I did not." 
 
 That was the climax. Wentworth forgot himself. 
 The policy he had formed of drawing this man on 
 until he could learn something definite was lost 
 sight of at the epithet and in his sudden whirl of 
 passion. lie took a step toward Merridale. "You 
 are a villain!" he shouted, "mated with another 
 villain!" And with that he shot out his right fist. 
 
 It did not take Mcrridale entirely off his guard. 
 He had quickly lifted his arm to protect himself 
 and the blow caught his hand as it reached the level 
 of his chin. Wentworth s list fell there but its force 
 was deadened by the fat lingers of the other. The 
 fellow staggered back under the power of the impact, 
 caught his legs in a chair, and rolled to the floor. 
 
 For a moment he was dazed; then he got to his 
 feet with an oath; but as John advanced, he ran to 
 the door and into the hall, bringing the door to behind 
 him with a slam. There was a sound of a clicking 
 lock, the meaning of which Wentworth was too 
 excited to realize; then all was quiet. 
 
 The thoroughly angered young man stood waiting 
 for Merridale s return; but as the minutes slipped 
 by, he went to the door only to discover that it was 
 locked from the outside and was firm. It was not
 
 54 THE RED PAPER 
 
 a heavy door, as doors go; but it was sufficient to 
 bar his way from the house. He sat down and tried 
 to calm himself, a thing he finally succeeded in doing, 
 for, unthought of by him, time flew along, and he 
 suffered no interruption. He did not consider the 
 possible consequences of his assault, nor could he, 
 try as he might, trace backward the sequence of events 
 till he came to their source. 
 
 He was entirely satisfied that his host was no better 
 than Welch, and he was now doubly sure that, come 
 what might, neither should have the red paper unless 
 it passed through the hands of Grace Merridale. 
 To this he pledged his honor anew. As for Welch- 
 he would now make it his business to find him, and 
 find exactly of what his father was accused. He 
 knew that the captain had commenced his career 
 on the sea, and it was possible that in the wilder 
 days of his youth he might have been guilty of some 
 thing which, for blackmailing purposes, had been 
 construed into major crimes. 
 
 But it could have been neither murder nor robbery! 
 The thing was impossible! And yet, as the young 
 man sat alone, he was fearful of what might be 
 uncovered, and this, too, with no lack of loyalty 
 to the memory of his dead parent. 
 
 His train of thought was long and deep. When he 
 roused himself, he became aware that the daylight was 
 on the wane that it had already grown dusk that 
 he was alone, and had been undisturbed for something 
 like two hours. He got up with a start and looked
 
 A LETTER AND ITS CONSEQUENCES 55 
 
 from the window. The street was still filled with 
 shouting children, and lights were beginning to twinkle 
 from the houses opposite. He saw at once that to 
 attempt to attract outside attention would not only 
 be difficult, but that its success would result in 
 gathering a mob. 
 
 He again walked to the door. It was still fast. 
 For a time he tried to pick the lock with his knife, 
 but soon saw that nothing short of smashing it 
 would free him. Then a thought struck him. Per 
 haps Merridale had succumbed to the force of his 
 blow and was lying helpless somewhere. He ham 
 mered and kicked on the panels, but without effect; 
 the two flats below him, he now remembered, were 
 not occupied. 
 
 It had by this grown to be deep gloom in the room, 
 and the feeling that he was a prisoner rendered him 
 desperate. He took one turn about the apartment 
 to steady his thoughts; then, picking up the heaviest 
 chair, he swung it aloft and brought it down on 
 the door close to the knob. 
 
 Under the force of the blow the chair went to 
 pieces in his grasp, and the panel flew to splinters. 
 Reaching his hand through the ragged opening, the 
 young man felt the key in the lock, and turned it. 
 The door swung open. Only the darkness of the 
 private hall met his gaze. Striking a match, he 
 moved along the hall until he found a gas-bracket, 
 which he lighted; then he explored the flat, illumi 
 nating each room until the place was ablaze with
 
 56 THE RED PAPER 
 
 light. But his hope, or fear, of finding the man 
 he had struck was groundless; save for himself, 
 the flat was empty. He was as much a prisoner 
 as ever. 
 
 A slight examination showed him that the door 
 leading to the outer hall was fastened from the 
 outside, or locked and the key taken away; he 
 also noticed that the panels were stout and heavy, 
 and, moreover, the private hall at that point was so 
 narrow as to preclude the possibility of swinging 
 a chair with any effect. Without proper tools, he 
 could not get out; he must look for some other 
 mode of obtaining his liberty. 
 
 He thought of the fire-escape. Looking from the 
 window of what was intended for the dining-room, 
 now a bare, unfurnished apartment, he saw that 
 egress to the iron ladder was through the kitchen 
 window, and he then found that the kitchen was 
 being used as a store-room only, it being piled ceiling- 
 high with furniture, trunks, and packing-boxes. It 
 presented a mass which would have taken two strong 
 men a couple of hours to remove. It was now fairly 
 plain to the young man that the flat was being used 
 for sleeping purposes only, unless, indeed, it was 
 but a trap; escape by the fire-ladder was impossible. 
 
 Suddenly a thought struck him a thought that 
 sent a wave of fever through his veins. Had Merri- 
 dale deliberately locked him in that he might go 
 to the studio and ransack it for the paper? Such 
 a man might be equal to such an act.
 
 A LETTER AND ITS CONSEQUENCES 57 
 
 Wentworth s sudden emotion did not rise from 
 any fear for the loss of the paper; it was too well 
 hidden for that, but the possibility of so high-handed 
 a proceeding made him desperately anxious to get 
 out of the flat; indeed, the matter was imperative; 
 he was a prisoner, an unlawful prisoner, and any 
 course that freed him would be justified. He next 
 thought of sliding down the dumb-waiter rope, but 
 a glance into the narrow black hole dissuaded him, 
 not only from its repellent aspect, but because he 
 realized he could not escape that way the waiter, 
 being at the bottom, would itself block the entrance 
 to the basement. 
 
 As he drew back from the dumb-waiter shaft his 
 mind reverted to the corded trunks and the air-well 
 by the alcove window. Hurrying into that room 
 he examined the ropes to determine their strength, 
 and was surprised to find that he had never seen 
 the like of such lines, nor was he aware that he 
 was wasting his time in questioning the strength 
 of a regular Texas cattle lariat. He saw that if 
 one was not sufficient, two would more than hold 
 his one hundred and sixty-seven pounds. He would 
 go down the air-well, if they were long enough. 
 
 He looked from the window. It was now fairly 
 dark outside, but sufficient light came from the 
 sky to show the small, paved court and cellar windows 
 some thirty odd feet below. That distance would 
 be a mere bagatelle for him. 
 
 With nervous haste he unknotted the lines from
 
 58 THE RED PAPER 
 
 the two trunks, fastened the ends together, tied 
 the doubled cord to the leg of the bed, which he 
 pushed close to the window, and then threw out the 
 coil. The line reached to within eight or ten feet 
 of the pavement. 
 
 He ran to the room which had undoubtedly been 
 occupied by the young lady; he had seen some 
 towels there. Save for a bed, bureau, a chair, and 
 an open trunk, the little room w r as bare. 
 
 There was a delicate perfume on the air, a perfume 
 suggesting femininity; the odor was a strange one, 
 though even then it impressed him. 
 
 Taking the towels, he went round and extinguished 
 all the gas in the flat, returning to the alcove. 
 
 Stripping off his coat, he threw it to the court 
 below; then, winding the towels round his hands, 
 he took a firm grasp on the double lines and swung 
 himself from the window.
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 TOM HARPER 
 
 THE windows of the adjoining flats were at 
 the extreme end of the air-shaft, and no 
 one saw the young man, as, for a moment or 
 two, he hung twisting in space. Getting a grip on 
 the line with his legs, he loosened his hold and let 
 himself slide slowly, but not so slowly but that he 
 felt the heat of the friction and knew the towels 
 were being eaten away. By the time his legs felt 
 the end of the line the burning of his hands became 
 unbearable, and he let go his grasp, falling some 
 ten feet, yet alighting with less of a shock than he 
 anticipated. 
 
 He leaned against the wall to catch his breath 
 after his exertion, then put on his coat and looked 
 at the window in front of which he had fallen. It 
 was a dingy, unwashed sash, and there was no light 
 behind it; he knew, however, it must open into the 
 cellar, and without ado he kicked it in. 
 
 The crashing of glass evidently disturbed some 
 one above, for a voice called out; but without answer 
 ing Wentworth crawled through the jagged hole he 
 
 59
 
 60 THE RED PAPER 
 
 had made and found himself free, for the door to the 
 street was directly before him. In a moment he 
 was out of it, and in ten minutes more was on an 
 elevated train. 
 
 As he reviewed the events of the afternoon, and 
 his mind was completely taken up by them, he 
 realized that, though he had come out of an awkward 
 situation as a victor, he should not let the matter 
 rest. Not only was he determined to find Welch 
 and clear away the mystery hanging over his late 
 father s good name, but he made up his mind that 
 Thaddeus Merridale should be made to suffer for 
 the outrage put upon him; indeed, he must see the 
 man again if only for the purpose of tracing Welch. 
 
 But, like a wise physician who puts his own case 
 into the hands of a brother professional, Wentworth 
 determined not to take further steps until he had 
 the advice of Harper, whom he knew he would 
 soon see. That astute individual, though somewhat 
 lazy when acting in his own behalf, was keen enough 
 when acting for another, was intensely practical, 
 logical and cool-headed, *nd his counsel would be 
 wise. Wentworth knew that the police might be 
 appealed to in this matter; but as he had as yet 
 suffered nothing beyond inconvenience, and as the 
 arrest of Merridale for unlawfully detaining him in 
 a locked room might at the same time open the 
 flood-gate of scandal, he put aside the idea. 
 
 That the man who had attempted to bribe 
 and then blackmail him would proceed further in
 
 TOM HARPER 61 
 
 his efforts to obtain the red paper the young man 
 could not conceive. He considered that Merridale 
 had received a lesson he would not soon forget, 
 and it would be but a question of time before he 
 would read him another. In this he was both 
 wrong and right. 
 
 When he arrived in front of the Van Dyke he 
 found Thomas walking up and down the pavement 
 in the dusk. As the old man saw his master he 
 gave a sigh of relief, and the expression of trouble 
 went from his face. 
 
 "I was getting to be afraid something wrong had 
 happened to you, sir. I did not want to leave until 
 you returned, Master John, said the faithful servitor. 
 
 "Something has happened," said Wentworth. 
 
 "I hope nothing serious, Master John nothing 
 connected with what I have done. I acted for what 
 I thought was the best, sir." 
 
 "What do you mean? Has any one been here 
 to see me?" 
 
 "Yes, sir; two gentlemen, sir; the one who called 
 at the house last night, and another with him, sir 
 a foreign-looking chap. They showed me your order, 
 sir, but I couldn t help them." 
 
 "Order! What order?" 
 
 "The note you wrote, sir, about a certain red paper. 
 I know nothing of it, Master John, and so told them. 
 They wanted to search the place, sir said it was 
 important that you sent them for it and were 
 waiting."
 
 62 THE RED PAPER 
 
 "And did you let them, Thomas?" 
 
 "No, sir. I met them in the hall just after I 
 had locked the door. The young foreign fellow 
 threatened me, sir, but they went away later." 
 
 Wentworth whistled softly. "And that was all?" 
 he asked, as the evident desperation of Merridale 
 was set forth in plain lines. 
 
 "Yes, sir. But they offered me ten dollars to let 
 them in. It looked too irregular, sir; I refused. 
 They turned ugly at that especially the older man 
 and I thought they might try to get the key from me 
 by force, for the hall was empty and the elevator 
 had stopped running, so I came down to the street. 
 Later, they came clown after me and stood on the 
 corner talking then they walked off." 
 
 "How long ago was this?" 
 
 "They ve been gone about an hour, sir perhaps 
 more." 
 
 "You did right, Thomas," said the young man, 
 flaming with anger. I gave no order. That man ! 
 Never mind. You may go now; I ll attend to those 
 fellows! One was a foreigner you say?" 
 
 "Yes, sir. Slight man, sir; very dark, long hair, 
 small mustache and goatee. The two talked together 
 in a foreign language; Spanish, I think it was, sir." 
 
 "Very good, Thomas. You did your duty 
 thoroughly. Here take this and good-night." 
 
 He thrust a bill into the hand of the old man 
 and left him. 
 
 "I wonder who the devil the foreigner is and
 
 TOM HARPER 63 
 
 what he has to do with this muss," mused Wentworth 
 as he climbed the stairs to his studio. "This matter 
 is getting beyond me," he muttered, as he let himself 
 into the studio. "I wish Harper were here now." 
 
 When he had put himself in order he went out and 
 had his dinner, his mind completely obsessed by the 
 red paper around which so much appeared to revolve. 
 He considered it high time that he learned some 
 thing definite about the mysterious document in 
 which his father had taken so great an interest and 
 for which Thaddeus Merridale was willing to commit 
 a crime. What was it that could have so influenced 
 a man like his father, aroused the desperation of two 
 strangers, and now was a threat to himself? He 
 resolved to find out at once. 
 
 His dinner finished, he hurried back to his room, 
 locking and bolting the door, then fished the boxed 
 picture from beneath the bed, pried off the cover 
 of the case and lifted out the painting. Under the 
 blade of his knife the stretched paper backing gave 
 way with the resonant sound of tightened parch 
 ment, and as Wentworth folded back the flap he saw 
 a long blue envelope on which was written: 
 
 GRACE MERRIDALE 
 
 To be delivered to her 
 on her twenty-first 
 
 birthday. 
 
 December 17 th, 
 
 19.
 
 64 THE RED PAPER 
 
 The writing was in Captain Wentworth s hand 
 his hand had placed it in this hiding-place, and he 
 had spoken of the document as a curse. 
 
 With a reverent touch the young man took out 
 the envelope. It was unsealed. From it he drew 
 a single sheet of white paper white on one side, 
 folded thrice to fit the envelope. He opened it. 
 
 Here at last was the enigma. 
 
 Indeed, his father had been right; he could make 
 absolutely nothing of it, and his first thought was 
 of the impossibility of men getting into a passion 
 over such a thing. It was a sheet of exactly eight 
 by ten inches, and to the young man s eye was 
 covered with only a line but irregular network of 
 lines done with a fine pen dipped in red ink. The 
 surface of the paper was entirely covered, save for 
 a slight edging of white, and the only thing that 
 broke the bewildering maze was a faint bluish cloud, 
 without form or outline, darker in some areas than 
 in others, as though the paper had been soiled. 
 
 Wentworth took up a focusing-glass and carefully 
 went over every inch of the strange document if 
 document it could be called but even under the 
 increase of pow r er he could make nothing of it, save 
 that the blue smudge became more definite in outline, 
 though it was still without meaning. 
 
 Viewed from a distance of three feet, the smudge 
 was not discernible at all, and the fine red lines 
 merged together so that, to all appearances, it was 
 a mere piece of plain, carmine-colored paper, some-
 
 TOM HARPER 65 
 
 what soiled, and worthy of the trash-basket. Think 
 ing its secret might be solved by looking through 
 it Wentworth held it up to the strong argand-burner, 
 but the paper was almost absolutely opaque. 
 
 And yet, he was perfectly sure that before him 
 lay something of great value. He grew feverish and 
 smoked cigarette after cigarette as he worked over 
 what he had considered would be a simple problem; 
 but he could come to no satisfactory conclusion 
 regarding its nature. He thought bitterly that if 
 his father had lived a day longer, he would have known 
 the secret; but now the only thing remaining was 
 to fulfil his father s wish and deliver the meaningless 
 paper to the young lady in question, as soon as 
 he could come by her whereabouts. 
 
 "And a valuable asset it i:-, likely to prove to 
 her!" he murmured scornfully; "for, according to 
 my father, she knows no more of its meaning than 
 I do. Why in the devil does Merridale go to such 
 a length to get it? With a pen, a bottle of carmine 
 ink and a couple of hours of patience I could duplicate 
 the thing, in appearance! But there is evidently 
 more in it than meets the eye, and to the devil 
 with it! It s getting on my nerves! Merridale shall 
 not have it, priceless or worthless, and the where 
 abouts of the man Welch hits my interest harder 
 than this does! I wish I had my hands on him! 
 Curse the thing! I m going out!" 
 
 He returned the paper to the painting, put the 
 painting in its box and shoved it under his bed;
 
 66 
 
 then he left the studio and went over to the Great 
 
 White Way in time to meet the multitudes streaming 
 from the theaters. In the teeming crowds the young 
 man was as lonesome as if in the desert and in a 
 spirit of self-disgust he returned to his rooms, now 
 having shaken off the bother of the mysterious 
 paper but not the dissatisfaction that made him 
 chafe at an existing order of things which seemed 
 to place him beyond the pale of productive work. 
 
 His one idea was to find Welch, and with a natural 
 impatience to begin the search he chafed under the 
 restraint of circumstances. After walking the floor 
 for an hour he went to bed and slept the sleep of the 
 young, the healthy and the clean of conscience. 
 
 When, the next morning, in his dressing-gown and 
 mule-slippers, he shuffled from his bedroom into the 
 broad light of the studio, he saw a man lying on 
 the divan, sound asleep. After the events of the 
 day before the sight caused him a shock and he 
 was about to tackle the recumbent figure when the 
 sleeper turned over and exposed his identity. It was 
 Tom Harper. 
 
 Wentworth s cry roused him, and the next moment 
 the two had gripped each other s hands and looked 
 into each other s faces. There was no demonstration 
 of excessive joy, but there was a consciousness which 
 went deeper. For a minute or two they did not 
 speak. Finally, Harper broke the silence: 
 
 "I didn t expect to get in here until to-morrow, 
 Jack! Arrived at the Grand Central at four this
 
 TOM HARPER 67 
 
 morning and had been unable to get a sieeper. Left 
 my kit at the express office and came right here 
 to have a nap you know the governor and how 
 crotchety he is about being disturbed before regular 
 hours. I let myself in with the key you gave me, 
 and had the start of my life when I saw you in bed. 
 I didn t know you were living here and you looked 
 so blissfully happy that I thought it a sin to wake 
 you. I I have nothing to say that you haven t 
 felt. I would like the details when you feel you 
 can give them." 
 
 "I have plenty to interest you," said Wentworth, 
 "perhaps to stagger your belief. I want your advice 
 and help. Go and wash up; you look like a coal- 
 heaver. You are well?" 
 
 "Of course. Fit for anything, from a fight to a 
 football match. And you? 1 
 
 "Equally, of course barring worry and trouble. 
 I have had my fight within twelve hours, and it 
 may be that worse than a football match is coming. 
 I want the help of your massive brain, old man." 
 
 "What s up?" asked Harper, stretching and 
 shaking his big figure as he threw off his lethargy. 
 
 "Enough is up up in the air. Wait until we 
 are dressed. Take a tub you ll find all the con 
 veniences. I ll be ready for you in a jiffy. Then 
 for breakfast; after that, business." 
 
 "A fight, is it?" said the other. "You don t look 
 truculent, Jack, only a little thinner and paler. 
 However, fight or arbitrate, I m with you." The
 
 68 THE RED PAPER 
 
 big man held out his hand and shrugged his broad 
 shoulders. The two gripped in silence; one in faith, 
 the other in blind confidence, and both in that spirit 
 of sympathy and understanding which binds some 
 men together in bonds stronger than those of blood. 
 
 T\vo hours later, well-groomed and fed, the friends 
 were again in the studio, Wentworth walking up and 
 down the rugged floor as he talked, while Harper, pipe 
 in mouth, lolled on the divan, active interest showing 
 on his wholesome, clean-shaven face. 
 
 From the moment they had parted some weeks 
 before Wentworth gave the history of every hour that 
 had elapsed. It had been a long, hard story. "And 
 now you have the last detail, " he said, throwing away 
 his exhausted cigar and flinging himself into an easy- 
 chair. "It is not a very happy tale to welcome you 
 with. I am at sea about the captain- -and must 
 always be, I suppose; and I am at sea regarding 
 Merridale and Welch. But the next move is up to 
 me. What is to be done? " 
 
 Harper refilled his pipe. "I should say that the 
 first thing is to let me have a look at that wonderful 
 red paper; the rest can wait a while," was the quiet 
 return. "You know the adage concerning two heads 
 though neither of us bears that of an ass, I take 
 it." 
 
 Wentworth went to the bedroom and brought out 
 the box, opened it and gave the paper to his friend. 
 Harper turned it over and over in his great hands, 
 looking at it from every point of view.
 
 TOM HARPER 69 
 
 "Humph!" he finally ejaculated. "That is the 
 blindest lead I ever struck. Looks like the fly-leaf 
 or binding of a fancy book, and a dirty one, at that! 
 Why in the deuce should any man want to risk a 
 fight or a term in jail for this thing?" 
 
 "It is supposed to be valuable." 
 
 "Well, it don t look it; but as as the captain said 
 it was I must believe it. Valuable for what? It 
 certainly is not clear on the face of it! And why 
 should your father have taken it from the vault? 
 Why should he have considered it a temptation, and 
 well, no matter, Jack. I m a bit fagged from lack 
 of rest. I d like to sleep on the subject before I 
 express an opinion which is vague at best. But, 
 if this paper is valuable, do you know what I d do?" 
 
 "What?" 
 
 "Photograph it just for a record, you know. 
 You are an expert and have everything handy. 
 Suppose the lady should lose it; she would like a 
 copy. I d photograph it at once." 
 
 "I hadn t thought of such a thing; but it s a good 
 idea." 
 
 "Do it now, old man." 
 
 "Will you wait?" 
 
 "Yes, for a while. I should be getting home; but 
 you make the exposure --you needn t develop it at 
 once then we ll take a Turkish bath, after which 
 perhaps my brain will work and I can consider the 
 matter of Welch ct al." 
 
 Harper yawned prodigiously as he finished. Went-
 
 70 THE RED PAPER 
 
 worth looked fixedly at him. "Tom, you are afraid 
 of Merridale!" 
 
 "I am not afraid of Merridale, " returned the other, 
 bringing his strong jaws together with a snap, "but 
 I confess to a fear of what such a man is capable of 
 doing; not to you, perhaps, but to Miss Merridale. 
 If you get a good negative you will protect her and 
 not have to be nervous about the original. Lord, 
 how bunged up I feel! Get to work, old man." 
 
 Wentworth turned aw r ay and Harper threw himself 
 on to the broad divan, where he went instantly to 
 sleep.
 
 CHAPTER V 
 THE RED PAPER 
 
 THE other wheeled an easel into the broad light 
 and tacked the paper on a blank canvas, then 
 brought up his camera and focused care 
 fully. The ground glass of the fine instrument was 
 larger than the paper itself, making it possible to 
 get a copy the exact size of the original a thing the 
 young man determined to do. It took some minutes 
 to align the image on the glass, bringing out the fine 
 lines on the screen, but that done to his satisfaction 
 he went for a plate-holder, placed it in the camera, 
 closed the pneumatic shutter, drew the slide and was 
 about to make the exposure when he thought a 
 moment and held his hand. 
 
 I must have the blue smudge and all," he mur 
 mured to himself, glancing at his sleeping friend, 
 who, he knew, would criticise the lack of it. "And 
 I won t get it this way. It needs a ray filter and an 
 orthochromatic plate." 
 
 He put back the slide and pulled out the holder, 
 exchanging it for one containing a color-sensitive 
 plate, then going to a leather case on a shelf, he selected
 
 72 THE RED PAPER 
 
 from it a red-glass cell. Unscrewing the lens, he 
 dropped the cell in its groove in the camera and 
 replaced the lens. This, while it darkened the image 
 and would quadruple the exposure, would give 
 orthochromatic values to the negative; but now the 
 image required refocusing. 
 
 Not for a second did Wentworth dream of the 
 importance of the change he had made, nor what was 
 hanging on the moment. Had it not been for the 
 well-known critical mental attitude of the sleeping 
 man he would have let the matter go in a plain 
 photograph; but now he determined to do his best 
 and maintain his reputation as an expert amateur. 
 He picked up the magnifying glass, threw the black- 
 velvet focusing cloth over his head, and for an 
 instant stood looking at the image on the ground 
 glass, not a sound being heard but the dull rumble 
 from the avenue and the heavy breathing of Harper. 
 
 What he saw puzzled him. The image of the blank 
 red paper was no longer there as it had been; in fact, 
 it was not there at all, and something else seemed 
 to have taken its place. He brought his head from 
 beneath the focusing cloth and looked at the easel, 
 but it was there, just as he had placed it, red paper 
 and all. He dived under the cloth again, and was 
 still for half a minute, then the black velvet was 
 tossed into the air and the studio rang with a shout 
 that brought Harper bolt upright. 
 
 "Eureka! I have found it!" cried Wentworth, 
 his eyes shining.
 
 THE RED PAPER 73 
 
 " Found what? " asked Harper in idiotic bewilder 
 ment as he tried to gather his scattered senses. 
 
 "The paper! The secret! The key! Look! Get 
 your head under the cloth and look!" 
 
 He was incoherent from excitement. 
 
 But Harper comprehended. He rubbed his eyes 
 and went to the camera, throwing the cloth over his 
 head. In a moment he sprang back with an exclama 
 tion. 
 
 "By George! I see the thing! Have you a pane 
 of red glass red anything that is transparent?" 
 
 "Yes; the dark-room lantern." 
 
 "Fetch it out. Hurry! You ve got the dead wood 
 of the matter, and now we ll cinch it. Don t you see? 
 The red filter back of the lens has washed out the 
 red lines that led the eye astray. The red, uniting 
 with the blue smudge we thought was dirt, has 
 turned that black. The thing is plain. The paper 
 is a disguised map! Bring on the glass." 
 
 It was clear that Harper was right, for when the 
 paper was laid on the table and the sheet of ruby 
 glass placed over it, the character of the hitherto 
 meaningless scrap stood out strongly. 
 
 It was a map of some kind; both men, with their 
 heads together, saw that at once. The faint blue 
 smudge was now dark, and appeared like black ink 
 on a dark-red ground, and below, where the dirt had 
 appeared the thickest the matter fell into writing. 
 
 Harper picked up the magnifying glass and scanned 
 it closely while Wentworth dre\v back and watched
 
 74 THE RED PAPER 
 
 his face. The young man s excitement was over; he 
 had discovered the meaning of the paper and it 
 satisfied him. There was silence for a few moments 
 as Harper studied the paper, and when at last the 
 engineer put down the glass and, turning, looked up 
 at his friend, his usually ruddy face had paled some 
 what. He drew a deep breath, but his voice was 
 controlled and even as he said: 
 
 "No wonder Merridale was willing to go to great 
 lengths for this! No wonder your father said this 
 paper was of incalculable value! Old man, do you 
 know what that thing is?" 
 
 "No; but by your manner it is something out of 
 the common. " 
 
 "Indeed, it is! It is a map evidently a true one 
 of the lost San Saba mine in Texas, and underneath 
 in writing is a full description of its bearings! 
 
 "The finder must have been a navigator, for he 
 has plotted the latitude and longitude to the second, 
 and given directions for approaching as though he 
 was charting an island at sea, and furnishing sailing 
 directions. Did you ever hear of the lost San Saba 
 mine?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 "Well, I have. I heard much of it while I was in 
 Texas and getting my professional legs under me. 
 I should say that hundreds of men have lost their 
 lives looking for that mine. At one time I caught 
 the bug and thought of taking a whack at it my 
 self. This was seven years ago and I was just that
 
 THE RED PAPER 75 
 
 caliber of a fool but my governor vetoed my plan 
 of exploration. Now I don t blame him. " 
 
 "I well remember of your going to Texas," said 
 Wentworth, "but, excuse me, Tom; a mine is a hole 
 in the ground, I think, and how in the devil can a 
 hole in the ground be lost? Real estate is not 
 perambulent to any great degree. If it was, and 
 was valuable, someone would be likely to rope it 
 before it got far." 
 
 "This is no joke, old man, " was the serious return. 
 "The mine in question has always been known as 
 the San Saba. We have an idea of its location, but 
 there is nothing definite; hardly more than that it 
 lies to the northern part of what was once Tom 
 Greene County. Tom Greene County has been split 
 up since my day, but as it was originally somewhat 
 larger than the State of Massachusetts, and as the 
 entire country about is a howling desert, unwatered, 
 unwoodcd and mountainous, this localizing the mine 
 is anything but satisfactory; the knowledge of its 
 whereabouts has been mighty vague." 
 
 "But if once found and worked, how could it 
 become lost?" 
 
 "I can tell you that. Rich ore was taken from it 
 as late as 1840 silver ore, with a big sprinkling 
 of gold. Of course, the mining methods were crude. 
 You know something of the history of Texas. Be 
 tween her struggle for independence from Mexico, 
 the rough element in the State, and the looming up 
 of the Mexican War, mining had no chance. The
 
 76 THE RED PAPER 
 
 times were raw. The mines were raided by the 
 Texans, and the workers, mostly Mexicans, were 
 driven out or killed. 
 
 "No doubt many a man had his eye on the spot 
 waiting for times of peace, but every one went into 
 action in that period, and for a while the place was 
 deserted. It is not a country in which a man may 
 linger long without supplies from the outside, and in 
 those days supplies were impossible. In itself the 
 country supports nothing but cactus, greasewood, 
 tarantulas, and rattlesnakes; it is a maze of shifting 
 sand-dunes, and lifts of rock. It did not take many 
 years, or even months, for every sign of mine and 
 human occupation to be obliterated. The hand of 
 the sand-storm did the work filled in every excava 
 tion and leveled every adobe hut in fact, ground 
 everything to powder, save the solid rock, and these 
 storms will eventually cut down and level even the 
 porphyry of the hills. A sand-storm is relentless, 
 and Tom Greene County is the playground for them- 
 
 "The heat is hellish and the land arid. Once the 
 trace of human work was lost the mine was lost- 
 filled up and the probability is that every man 
 who has laid eyes on it is now dead." 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 "Well, the maker of this map has been able, by 
 hook or by crook, by accident or reasoning, to relocate 
 the lost San Saba. No richer mine ever existed 
 if tradition is true. Knowing its worth, he disguised 
 this map; giving the key, or telling it to your father,
 
 THE RED PAPER 77 
 
 with the promise that it be made over to his daughter 
 Grace. That much seems clear to me. But, some 
 how, this fellow catches on to the secret how, I 
 can t guess. He goes to your father, who has the 
 paper, and pardon me, old man, you know the 
 rest. You have strucK the key by accident, and if 
 Grace Merridale wishes to sell this map she can be 
 one of the richest young ladies in the United States. " 
 
 "But Merridale?" 
 
 "Evidently he also is in the secret and has tried 
 to do with you what Welch tried to do with your 
 father while either or both are ready to rob the 
 lady." 
 
 "But she shall have it to do what she pleases 
 with it," said Wentworth. 
 
 "Of course," returned Harper, knitting his brows. 
 " Unless unless 
 
 "Unless what " 
 
 Harper got to his feet; his face was very serious 
 as he laid his pointed linger on Wentworth s chest 
 as though to accentuate his words: 
 
 "Unless Merridale, Welch ct a/., severally or to 
 gether, take it into their heads to commit another 
 crime." 
 
 "Another crime! Then you think with me that the 
 captain was murdered! 11 
 
 "Murdered? In the sight of the law no; in the 
 sight of Heaven yes. But, old man, that subject 
 is too painful for you to discuss at present. How 
 ever, get that paper under lock and key at once;
 
 78 THE RED PAPER 
 
 raise heaven and earth to find Grace Merridale, 
 and get it off your hands. Beware of Merridale 
 et al. I m going home. I m fagged. I ve got to 
 sleep. I ll see you to-morrow and we ll talk some 
 more. So long, old man!" 
 
 Harper went out, and somehow Wentworth felt 
 as if the light had gone with him; he had a feeling 
 of having bid him good-bye for an indefinite time. 
 "Damn it!" he said to himself as he looked around 
 the silent studio. "I believe I am getting to be an 
 old woman!"
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 GRACE MERRIDALE 
 
 THE mood to work was not on him, and instead 
 of attempting to go on with the half-finished 
 landscape which had engaged his attention 
 he sat down at the table and with his focusing glass 
 studied the red paper through the sheet of ruby 
 glass laid over it. But the wording of the map was 
 so filled with the technicalities of navigation that 
 he could make little of it. An arrow marked what 
 was evidently the beginning of a trail, and under it 
 was written : 
 
 "OLD FORT CONCHO 
 125 miles," 
 
 while the line of the trail twisted in a bewildering 
 manner, marked here and there with marginal figures. 
 Wentworth became interested in tracing out the 
 line, and, considering the wide possibilities open to 
 the girl when in possession of the map, so interested, 
 indeed, that he forgot for the moment the advisabil 
 ity of continuing his work of photographing it, and 
 so engrossed had he become that he failed to hear 
 the light tap on his studio door. The tap was re- 
 
 79
 
 80 THE RED PAPER 
 
 peated several times before he awoke to the fact 
 that some one desired admittance. 
 
 Drawing a newspaper over both plan and glass, he 
 went to the door, expecting to see Thomas and won 
 dering why the old man had not entered at his call. 
 But it was not Thomas; instead, in the hall stood 
 a young lady, and with a glance Wentworth recognized 
 the girl he had seen in Merridale s flat the day before. 
 In the face of w r hat had happened there he so closely 
 associated her with Merridale himself that he looked 
 quickly up and down the long hall, thinking that as 
 a matter of course her father was with her, but she 
 appeared to be alone. 
 
 In his surprise at seeing her the young man gave 
 the lady no word of welcome, nor did he have the 
 common courtesy of speaking at all, nor was it until 
 he was sure she was unattended that he took a second 
 look at her. 
 
 Unlike her manner on the day before, there was now 
 no repellent haughtiness in the lady s bearing or 
 expression. Instead, she appeared to shrink at sight 
 of the man before her. Her cheeks were flushed and 
 her red lips half-open as though she were breathless 
 from haste or embarrassment. As she, in turn, 
 recognized Wentworth her dark blue eyes opened 
 wide in astonishment and her beauty was accentuated 
 as the color deepened in her face. 
 
 "I I thought to see Mr. Wentworth, sir," she 
 stammered, in palpable confusion. 
 
 "Yes? I am Mr. Wentworth," returned the young
 
 GRACE MERRIDALE 81 
 
 man, with a slight bow but without relaxing his 
 suspicion as to the lady s motive in calling on him. 
 "If I am not mistaken this is Miss Merridale." 
 
 "Yes, but I did not know that you I saw you 
 yesterday with him." There was a slight emphasis 
 on the final pronoun. 
 
 "I have a vivid recollection of being at your apart 
 ments," returned Wentworth, with a trace of sarcasm 
 in his answer. He thought the girl would under 
 stand. Then realizing the fact that both still stood 
 in the public hall and that it might be policy to know 
 her business and perhaps through her obtain a 
 knowledge of the whereabouts of Welch at all 
 events, show ordinary decency to his caller, he added: 
 "Won t you come in? 
 
 He turned and led the way into the studio, the girl 
 following hesitatingly. At the man s invitation 
 she seated herself but he did not take his place at 
 her side. All his armor was on; he would teach 
 this evident emissary from an unprincipled ruffian 
 that he was wide awake and proof against such as 
 she. There should be no siren act for him. 
 
 "Well, madam, what can I do for you?" 
 
 The girl gave a fleeting glance at the finely pro 
 portioned figure standing before her, then her eyes 
 fell to her clasped hands. "I have made a mistake, 
 somehow," she said. "I I did not dream you 
 knew him! I went to your late residence and was 
 given this address. I I did not expect to see you! 
 Please please do not tell him I have been here
 
 82 THE RED PAPER 
 
 or have seen you since yesterday. I am afraid " 
 
 "Afraid of what?" 
 
 "Of him." Again an emphasis on the pronoun 
 referring to Merridale. The young lady plainly 
 was ill at ease or acting superbly. 
 
 "I cannot account for your evident surprise at 
 seeing me either at the flat or here," said Went- 
 worth, "neither can I pretend to account for your 
 fear. I had never seen your father. I called on 
 him at his written request, not on my own initiative, 
 and" 
 
 "My father!" 
 
 "Yes; you saw me there. If I have wounded 
 your feelings by- 
 He stopped. The young lady, who had seated 
 herself on the edge of the divan, came slowly to her 
 feet, her great eyes opening in something like con 
 sternation. 
 
 "Did he tell you he was my father?" she asked, 
 leaning forward. 
 
 "Yes, after you came in and went out. He spoke 
 of you as his daughter, and, pardon me, of your 
 disagreement with your cousin, Grace. I am inter 
 ested in learning of your cousin. I have something 
 for her. I er forgot to press the question of her 
 whereabouts with your father." 
 
 The girl sank back on the divan, and for a moment 
 buried her face in her gloved hands. But it was 
 only for a moment; presently she looked up at the 
 young man, who stood over her.
 
 GRACE MERRIDALE 83 
 
 "I am Grace Merridale, ]\lr. Wentworth if, 
 indeed, you are Mr. Wentworth. When I saw you 
 there I thought you were one of them, or one with 
 them. I am happy to believe I was wrong! I am 
 glad I came, if only to undeceive you. That man is 
 not my father; I am sorry to say he is my uncle- 
 but by marriage only." 
 
 "Not your father s brother?" 
 
 "No. He married my father s maiden sister 
 my aunt ten years ago. She is dead. His name 
 is Bagshot." 
 
 "You, Grace Merridale!" exclaimed Wentworth, 
 in astonishment. " And his name is Bagshot? Then 
 he has been masquerading! At the risk of offending 
 you, madam, I wish to denounce him as a villain; 
 and if, indeed, you are Grace Merridale, the daughter 
 of my father s old friend, I am at a loss to account 
 for your being in company with such a character." 
 
 The man s voice was hard and uncompromising. 
 The lady looked up at him now with an air of per 
 plexity. "Perhaps," continued Wentworth, "per 
 haps he has sent you for a certain red paper which, 
 as Grace Merridale, will soon be yours for the asking." 
 
 That his visitor was not without spirit was plain 
 as she quickly caught the undisguised hostility of 
 Wentworth s attitude. 
 
 "Excuse me, sir," she returned, with an access 
 of haughtiness. "With you, I am equally at a loss. 
 I know nothing of a paper of any color certainly 
 not of that to which you refer. Nor do I recognize
 
 84 THE RED PAPER 
 
 your right to either criticise or catechise me. I am 
 Grace Merridale. I came here less in regard to any 
 interest of mine than in the interest of the son of 
 my father s oldest and best friend. And I came at 
 some risk to myself should my errand be known 
 to warn you." 
 
 In a twinkling Wentworth s attitude, mental and 
 physical, changed. 
 
 "You came to \varn me! Against what?" 
 
 "Against him my uncle and Joe Planet. I over 
 heard them talking about you last night, and 
 
 "One moment, please," interrupted the man. 
 "First, tell me; do you know what happened yester 
 day in the flat while you were away?" 
 
 "Xo. I did not get home until after six, and 
 
 "Then we are evidently at cross-purposes. Let 
 me set you right as to my position." And Went- 
 worth took from the table the letter he had received, 
 placed it in the girl s hands and seated himself on 
 the end of the divan. 
 
 The young lady read the note hurriedly. 
 
 "There is no such person in the world as Thaddeus 
 Merridale;" she said quickly, as she finished. "What 
 did he wish?" 
 
 "He wished that which is yours, and yours alone; 
 he demanded that which I have been saving for you; 
 that which will make its possessor rich. I have it 
 here, and have just discovered its character." 
 
 "I I do not think I understand," was the reply, 
 and the tone of the girl s voice was softened by wonder.
 
 GRACE MERRIDALE 85 
 
 "I presume not. I would make but a blundering 
 diplomat, I fear," said Wentworth. "I had no 
 intention of offending you." And here he launched 
 into the story of the red paper, beginning where his 
 father had told him of it, and ending with the adven 
 ture of the day before. Ere he was half through 
 his visitor had altered her repellent attitude. Her 
 beautiful eyes shone with excitement or turned soft 
 as the story progressed; her bosom heaved, her 
 color came and went, and to Wentworth, who grew 
 eloquent under the flattery of her attention and in 
 tense interest, it seemed as if he were looking at his 
 visitor from a new and advantageous angle. He 
 had never had much experience with the opposite 
 sex, nor was he ever impressed by a complex per 
 sonality. He had been at fault with his caller; he 
 saw it now. Surely there could be no duplicity in 
 his more than merely fair listener. It seemed to 
 him that he had never met with a person so innocently 
 transparent or so faultless in face and figure. 
 
 As he talked he became more observant. He had 
 had but a fleeting look at her the day before, but now 
 he noted her every detail, from the set of the steel- 
 gray costume she wore to her golden hair, the fine 
 texture of her cheeks and the daintiness of her 
 small hands which lay folded in her lap. Above 
 her hung the faint perfume he had noticed in her 
 room. 
 
 "But you do not know that he had anything to do 
 with your father s death or that he was your father s
 
 86 THE KEJ) PAPER 
 
 traducer," she said, drawing a deep breath as he 
 completed the story. 
 
 "No. I believe it is a man called Welch." 
 
 "I never heard of such a person," returned the 
 girl. "But forgive me," she continued entreat- 
 ingly, holding out her hand. "I doubted you, but 
 I doubt you no longer. My uncle told me nothing 
 of these things but we seldom speak; we have 
 nothing in common." 
 
 "Then you will admit my right to question. It 
 was for your interest, you see." And Wentworth 
 took the extended hand. 
 
 "Yes, and to criticise, perhaps. You asked me 
 how it is that I am with him. Indeed, it needs an 
 explanation. I came north with Mr. Bagshot; it 
 was necessary for me to be here and there was no 
 one else to come with me. He proposed acting as 
 my escort, saying he had business here. And I am 
 a perfect stranger in New York. We went to a 
 hotel for a week, then went to the flat because he 
 said it would be cheaper for him. I might have 
 guessed that something was wrong, but did not 
 until last night when I overheard him talking with 
 Joe Planet, a Mexican. Now I know he had an 
 ulterior motive for coming; perhaps the flat was 
 meant for a trap. I think so; I know his character. 
 I am afraid of him. He would kill me if he knew 
 I were here." 
 
 "And what did you overhear?" 
 
 "It must have been about the paper. He had
 
 GRACE MERRIDALE 87 
 
 been drinking. He talked loud. He threatened 
 you by name. I heard him say that he would have 
 the thing, if it landed him in jail. I was frightened, 
 and and I determined to tell you." 
 
 She was looking at Wentworth as a woman only 
 looks when she has perfect confidence in a man. 
 
 "I can hardly thank you enough for your interest, " 
 he returned warmly. " Forewarned is forearmed, 
 you know; and I really think that fellow will not 
 care to renew his acquaintance with me. Now that 
 you are here," he said, rising, "let me show you the 
 bone of contention. This is the red paper. I was 
 about to photograph it." 
 
 He moved to the table and she followed him. He 
 explained the meaning of the paper as she looked at 
 it wonderingly. 
 
 "You may have it now," he said. "It is yours." 
 
 The girl took up the map, but there was no expres 
 sion of greed in her eyes as she said: 
 
 "You tell me it is worth much; is it very much?" 
 
 "Harper told me it would make you fabulously 
 wealthy. " 
 
 To Wentworth s astonishment her eyes filled with 
 tears. 
 
 "My father made this," she said softly. "It is 
 his writing. He died two weeks after coming back 
 from a trip into western Texas died suddenly at 
 my aunt s house in Kerrville. It was before she 
 married Bagshot. Your father was there. I was 
 but a child."
 
 88 THE RED PAPER 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 She laid the paper down and shuddered as she sank 
 into a chair. 
 
 "It is of the color of blood," she said. "It has 
 brought death to two men my father and yours. 
 I am afraid of it." 
 
 "Will you take it now?" 
 
 "And relieve you of a responsibility?" 
 
 "Not that. I can bear that; but it is yours." 
 
 "Not until December," jhe returned, looking up 
 with a lovely smile shining through her tears. " Must 
 not you keep it until Oh!" 
 
 She suddenly bent her bright head as though 
 listening, and through the quiet of the room there 
 came the sound of men s footsteps on the bare floor 
 of the hall without; then she sprang to her feet, her 
 face blanching as a thunderous knock came on the 
 studio door. 
 
 "Oh! What shall I do?" she cried in a strident 
 whisper as she clasped her hands over her heart, her 
 eyes widening in sudden panic. 
 
 John Wentworth was also startled by the loud 
 summons, but he did not lose his presence of 
 mind. 
 
 "It is probably my servant, " he said easily, though 
 the character of the knock made him doubt the 
 truth of his own statement. 
 
 "But I would not be seen by any one by any 
 one! And I know it is he and Jose they were 
 coming together! Oh, hide me somewhere! Quick!"
 
 GRACE MERRIDALE 89 
 
 She looked as if she were about to faint, and John 
 saw that her fear was not to be trifled with. 
 
 "Will you trust me?" he asked quietly. 
 
 "Yes! Oh, yes!" 
 
 "Then step into my dark room for a moment. I 
 will attend to the matter, whatever it may be." 
 
 He walked to the door of the developing-room and 
 swung it open. She entered without a word, and 
 he let the door close behind her and then began to 
 move rapidly. 
 
 Striding to the table he was about to take the red 
 paper from under the glass when he heard the door 
 of the studio open. With a quick movement he drew 
 a newspaper over the map and turned round. The 
 girl had been right. He was face to face with the 
 man he had knocked down the day before, and behind 
 him there came a thin, dark young fellow, his foreign- 
 looking face adorned with mustache and goatee. 
 
 A sudden sense of recognition lighted through the 
 brain of Wentworth, but he could not locate the 
 person nor did he have time for much conjecture, for 
 Bagshot came forward to the center of the room, 
 his face set with a desperate determination there 
 was no mistaking. For a moment he looked around 
 the large apartment as if to assure himself that the 
 young man was alone, then he planted his cane 
 firmly on the floor and drew up his body. 
 
 "Now, sir, " he began, with an air of determination, 
 but without truculence, "we have come here to see 
 if you can be convinced of the reasonableness of the
 
 90 THE RED PAPER 
 
 demand I made yesterday. Mr. Wentworth, you 
 have and hold that which is mine by right of transfer. 
 We will admit that yesterday I went a bit too far, 
 but you punished me for it punished me as I de 
 served. I see, too, that you are a man of resource. 
 You would be valuable to me. Let us be friends 
 let us come to terms.
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 BAGSHOT MOVES 
 
 a moment Wentworth looked hard at the 
 man before him without speaking; in truth, he 
 was silent from inward rage at the impudent 
 temerity of the fellow, and at the same time he was 
 oppressed by the near presence of the young lady, 
 and the knowledge that the red paper was actually 
 within easy reach of his now avowed enemy. 
 
 Beyond these things was the insulting swagger of 
 self-sufficiency which marked Bagshot s bearing as 
 he strode into the room without permission and 
 without the common courtesy of removing his hat. 
 
 Wentworth had not taken Miss Merridale s account 
 of the threat as very serious. It was beyond his 
 comprehension that Bagshot would dare put in 
 force any attempt to obtain the coveted paper by 
 open violence, and he looked upon the conversation 
 overheard by the young lady as but the vaporings 
 of a disappointed and beaten man in his cups. But 
 Bagshot had come, backed by another, and Went 
 worth was in no position to meet him; the mere 
 presence of the two was a menace, and the young 
 
 91
 
 92 THE RED PAPER 
 
 man s quick brain determined that to temporize 
 had become necessary, though it would not do to 
 show the least fear to his adversary. He gulped 
 once or twice^as he looked at the man, a dull but 
 dangerous anger rising in him. 
 
 "As a rule, sir," he said at last, "when a man 
 knocks at my door, he awaits permission to enter. 
 You did not. Also, out of regard to common decen 
 cy, sir, he removes his hat. This is a private apart 
 ment. Take off your hat before I knock it off. " 
 
 He spoke quietly, directing his words to Bagshot; 
 of the other he took no apparent notice, though he 
 kept him in view; but the foreigner, whom the young 
 man had already placed in his mind as Joe Planet, 
 promptly removed his soft Stetson and, walking to 
 the easel, spread his legs, clasped his hands behind 
 him and, to all appearances, became absorbed in 
 studying the half-finished painting. 
 
 Bagshot followed suit so far as to remove his own 
 hat, but he stood stockily in the position he had 
 assumed. 
 
 "Now, what can I do for you, Mr. Merridale?" 
 concluded Wentworth. 
 
 "I told you what I came for," said the other. 
 
 "So you did so you did," returned the young 
 man with growing confidence. "But you lacked tact 
 in your approach; you lacked tact yesterday. What 
 are your present terms?" 
 
 Bagshot opened his small eyes at the unexpected 
 reply.
 
 BAGSHOT MOVES 93 
 
 "What are yours?" he blurted out. 
 
 "Ten million dollars, sir," returned Wentworth, 
 with an assumption at an easiness he did not feel. 
 The character of the paper warrants the price." 
 
 "You told me you didn t know the character of 
 the paper!" exclaimed Bagshot, his face growing red. 
 
 "I did not yesterday, but I do to-day." 
 
 "Howhow" 
 
 "Never mind how. The paper is a map of the 
 lost San Saba mine. There is the fact, but there is 
 an alternative to my demand. You may think it 
 over and give me your answer to-morrow." 
 
 "Wentworth," Bagshot said, knitting his brows 
 as he walked over to the divan and dropped heavily 
 upon it, "I came here to-day for the purpose of 
 getting that paper. It is mine do you under 
 stand? And I will have it. There will be no to 
 morrow in this, so we will settle at once." 
 
 "As you would have attempted to do last night, 
 sir, had it not been for my man." 
 
 Bagshot flushed a dull red, but made no direct 
 reply to the thrust as he returned: "I will extend 
 my offer. I \vill give you one thousand dollars for 
 it, down, and guarantee you twenty-five thousand 
 in six months. But ten million! Well, sir, \ve are 
 not here to joke; you will discover that much! 
 You speak of an alternative; what is it?" 
 
 "That you bring me face to face with Welch," 
 returned John quietly, but with an increasing sense 
 of uneasiness.
 
 94 THE RED PAPER 
 
 This man had threatened him; had he come to 
 do violence? The tone of his voice indicated as much. 
 Wentworth cast his eyes about the room for some 
 means of defense in case of necessity, but saw noth 
 ing better than a chair. The fencing foils and Indian 
 clubs were in a far corner, with a mass of loose 
 furniture from the house between him and thcin. 
 There was a revolver in his bedroom, but it was not 
 loaded, nor did he know, in the confusion of the place, 
 where to lay hands on its cartridges. Suppose the 
 two men set upon him, conquered him, and searched 
 the studio? 
 
 Whatever became of the paper, Grace Merridale, 
 now crouching in terror in the developing-room, 
 would surely be discovered and be made to suffer, 
 and it was really the possible consequences to her 
 rather than to himself that held the young man from 
 becoming openly defiant. He felt cornered. If 
 Thomas would come the situation would be altered; 
 as it was, he dared not bolt for assistance, leaving 
 the two to search the place in his absence. He 
 thought of it, but his chivalrous responsibility for 
 the lady hidden in the place forbade him allowing her 
 to be discovered. There would be but one interpreta 
 tion in such an event, and though John Wentworth 
 was no Sir Galahad, he was no coward. There was 
 nothing to do but draw to himself the fire of the 
 enemy. 
 
 As he looked around the room he noticed the 
 Mexican had left the easel and was now walking
 
 BAdSHOT MOVES 95 
 
 about, eying a bit of bric-a-brac here or a sketch 
 there, apparently paying no attention to either 
 Bagshot or Wentworth. He had not sought an 
 introduction nor had one been offered; to John it 
 was clear that he was not looked upon as an equal, 
 but even in the whirl of the young man s mind he 
 was conscious of asking himself where he had met 
 or seen the fellow before. 
 
 But suddenly he saw more than the moving man, 
 and all thought about him or self-defense disappeared. 
 It was with a feeling of consternation that his eye 
 fell on the exposed corner of the red glass showing 
 from under the edge of the newspaper he had hurriedly 
 and but partially drawn over it. His heart almost 
 stood still. Would Bagshot notice it? Not from 
 where he sat, but if he should approach the table it 
 would be in plain sight; the red glass would suggest 
 the presence of the document. Wentworth mut 
 tered a curse. Bagshot laughed harshly as he re 
 ferred to the young man s demand. 
 
 "Welch was a bluff to try you," he sneered. 
 "Whatever effect he might have had on your father, 
 it was a question if the old man s reputation was 
 much to you. If it was, it would take time to work 
 you, and time is an object to me." 
 
 At this open sneer Wentworth s self-control was 
 almost lost, but it decided him on an extreme measure 1 
 "One moment, sir, he said, and stepped toward 
 the bedroom, intending 1o get his revolver, which, 
 loaded or unloaded, would have a strong moral effect.
 
 96 THE RED PAPER 
 
 "No, sir!" exclaimed the other, springing to his 
 feet as if he had read the young man s intention, and 
 planting himself in the path before Wentworth could 
 get half-way across the studio. "I am on to your 
 game, sir. You will not arm yourself. You will 
 come to my terms this instant or I will take other 
 steps. Y r ou don t know me, young man; if you did 
 you wouldn t wait long to decide favorably on any 
 offer." 
 
 He lifted his cane threateningly. Wentworth re 
 coiled a pace. 
 
 "Would you have me repeat my performance of 
 yesterday?" he asked. 
 
 "Do it, if you can! I know my position, sir I 
 want your answer now!" 
 
 "Then have it now!" shouted Wentworth, losing 
 his hold on himself. "If you know your position, 
 so do I, and I know you. Your name is Bagshot; 
 you are no better than a blackleg, and, by God! 
 not for twice ten million shall you have that paper 
 from me. Now, get out of my way; more than that 
 leave this room at once or I will call in the police." 
 
 Bagshot s light blue eye seemed to turn smaller 
 as he heard his name and this open defiance. His 
 breathing became audible, and he was about to say 
 something, when, from behind his own back, Went 
 worth heard the words: 
 
 "Ah! A a id csta lo encoutre ." 
 
 He did not understand the language, but the 
 exclamation was forcible, and he turned in time to
 
 BAGSHOT MOVES 97 
 
 see the lithe foreigner, now by the table, sweep the 
 newspaper to the floor and fully expose the ruby 
 glass. He saw the fellow slide the paper from under 
 it, fold it and put it in his pocket, and noted the 
 sallow countenance light with triumphant animation. 
 The thing had been done in less than five seconds. 
 
 Bagshot s hard features suddenly relaxed into a 
 grin that was nothing less than repulsive, then the 
 devil of greed leaped into his face as he stepped 
 toward his henchman. From Wentworth s heart 
 the blood went with a rush. He had lost or almost 
 lost the precious map, and the quick rage which took 
 possession of him was an unholy thing though it 
 sprang from a righteous cause. For a brief instant he 
 had no plan of action, but tamely to permit the paper 
 to be taken from the studio was far from his intention. 
 
 At that moment the face of the girl seemed to 
 appear before him a face filled with mild reproach. 
 But she was still hidden the dark-room door was 
 still closed, and he knew this to be a figment of his 
 brain born of excitement. 
 
 But he would not have her point her finger at him. 
 He was no coward he would fight for her. 
 
 It was all in an instant. His muscles seemed to 
 knit together of themselves, and as Bagshot stepped 
 by him, as if in contempt of his presence, the violently 
 angry man drove his list into the Southerner s fat 
 neck, striking him just below the right ear, and send 
 ing him to the floor with a crash. 
 
 Wentworth did not stop to mark the extent of
 
 98 THE RED PAPER 
 
 the injury he had done. With a bound he was at 
 the hall-door, which he locked, dropping the key 
 into his pocket, then, with a slow and determined 
 step, he advanced on the Mexican, all the blood in 
 his body seemingly surcharging his brain. He would 
 kill this fellow with his bare hands, if necessary, 
 but he would have that map. The law would justify 
 him Grace Merridale would thank him. 
 
 He passed Bagshot as that individual was struggling 
 to his elbow, one hand to his head, his face filled with 
 bewilderment, like one recovering from a swoon. 
 As Wentworth came near the table the Mexican, 
 who had stood as one petrified when his patron went 
 down, suddenly became active. With the quickness 
 of a cat he whisked to the other side of the table, 
 putting the heavy piece of furniture between them, his 
 hands on it, his beady black eyes shining with fear and 
 malignancy, his body bent for a leap in any direction. 
 
 To Wentworth his action was enlightening as by 
 it two things were made plain: first, that the fellow 
 was intent not on attack but on escape; and second, 
 that in all probability he was unarmed and had looked 
 to his patron for protection. 
 
 But, armed or unarmed, it made little difference 
 to the outraged athlete as he sprang around the table, 
 though like a flash the lithe Mexican eluded him 
 by running around the edge, calling in Spanish to 
 his companion who was trying to recover his senses 
 and feet. Twice did the two circle the broad niahog- 
 anv, and Wentworth, recognizing that such a chaso
 
 BAGSHOT MOVES 99 
 
 would be futile, made a short cut of the affair by lifting 
 the heavy obstacle and tipping it over toward the 
 foreigner. 
 
 The massive table crashed to the floor just as Bag- 
 shot recovered himself sufficiently to stand up, and 
 the Mexican, abandoning his now useless intrench- 
 ment, fled across the room to the hall door where 
 he tore at the knob in a vain endeavor to get out. 
 But the door was fast, and as Wentworth, now dom 
 inated by uncontrolled rage, ran toward him, in 
 desperation the Mexican turned to meet him. There 
 might have been something in the American s eye 
 that told of his intention for with one look at Went- 
 worth s face the Southerner let out a shrill scream of 
 terror, then, like a wild animal driven into a corner, 
 he sprang and grappled with his pursuer. 
 
 For a moment the two swayed over the floor, 
 the Mexican squirming and twisting from hold after 
 hold until at last his silent and earnest opponent 
 had him firmly by the throat. Wentworth held the 
 man, bending him backward, until he saw the staring 
 black eyes bulge from their sockets and the tongue 
 start from the thin, open lips. It was just as he was 
 ready to drop his limp victim and recover the stolen 
 map that he felt a sickening blow on the back of 
 his own head. The room seemed to flare with a 
 sudden crimson flame, his stomach turned to water, 
 and everything went dark. He loosed his hold, 
 staggered against the wall, hung there a moment, 
 then slid unconscious to the floor.
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 THE PLAN 
 
 WHEN Wentworth came to himself he awoke 
 to the fact that he lay on the floor, that 
 Miss Merridale was bending over him, 
 and that his head was wet with water from the 
 sponge she was using. 
 
 He struggled up so that he rested against the wall 
 though his exertion had caused the room to whirl 
 in a mad revel. 
 
 The girl s face was a study. It was colorless, and 
 held an expression of deep solicitude, but there was 
 nothing tremulous about the sweet mouth and round, 
 firm chin. As the young man opened his eyes her 
 lips parted in an exquisite smile, and her face became 
 animated. 
 
 "How how long have I been this way?" asked 
 John. 
 
 "Barely five minutes not more," she said gently. 
 "It must have been a glancing blow and your hair 
 saved you. I cannot find any wound/ 
 
 "Who struck me?" 
 
 "Bagshot with his cane. When he fell I pushed 
 open the door a trifle. You must have knocked 
 
 100
 
 THE PLAN 101 
 
 him down. He got up and struck you from behind 
 while you were struggling with Jose." 
 
 "Then it was Planet?" 
 
 "Yes. What has he done?" 
 
 "Done? He has outraged me and robbed you." 
 
 "You mean he has stolen the paper?" 
 
 "Yes. He found it where it lay on the table 
 fool that I was not to have taken it. I was fighting 
 for it." 
 
 The girl drew back, but a wonderful tenderness 
 shone from her countenance. 
 
 Ah ! Fighting for me ? 
 
 "Ay, for you; for what e..;j or whom else? Did 
 they see you? 
 
 "No oh, no! I dared not show myself; the 
 result wou d have been awful for me. Planet stood 
 still a minute, rubbing his throat and trying to 
 speak, and Bagshot bent over you. I watched him 
 go through your pockets until he found the key to 
 the hall door. He did not say a word, but in a few 
 seconds he took Jose by the arm and hurried him 
 out. They didn t wait for the elevator for I heard 
 them running down stairs. Then I got water and 
 came to you. I I was frightened at first, but am 
 glad it is no worse. And you really risked your life 
 for me! How can I ever thank you ? " 
 
 "You needn t," said. Wentworth, pulling himself 
 up. "Let us say that it was less for you than for 
 the principle of the thing. My father s spirit would 
 reproach me if 1 had been weak enough to come to
 
 102 THE RED PAPER 
 
 terms with that man. And you are robbed of a 
 fortune! Now, by all the gods of mythology! He 
 got no further, for the room started to whirl again, 
 and he fell back against the wall. 
 
 "Don t attempt to talk now," whispered the girl. 
 "Let me help you to the divan." And in her feminine 
 solicitude, which made her blind to the convention 
 alities, she put her strong young arm around him 
 and helped him to the couch on which he fell heavily, 
 sick and faint. 
 
 After an interval he opened his eyes. "I will soon 
 be all right, " he said, detaining the hand that bathed 
 his face. "You are a ministering angel but what 
 are you going to do now?" 
 
 "You mean about the map?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "I hardly know what to do," she answered, dis 
 engaging her hand from his. "Open defiance would 
 gain nothing. My uncle is not without ingenious 
 resources if he is without principle; that is why I 
 did not raise an alarm. He would say he had stolen 
 nothing; that he struck you in self-defense after you 
 assaulted him. There would be color in that. And 
 I cannot prove my right to the paper, while unfort 
 unately, your word alone w r ould not go far in law. It 
 is true he could not prove his assertion that I have 
 transferred my right to him, for I have never done 
 so, but if worse came to worse he would copy the 
 essential parts of the map and destroy the original. 
 I could not prevent him, and
 
 THE PLAN l()3 
 
 "But I can and will, interrupted Wentworth. 
 "My father would never forgive me if I dropped the 
 matter here. " 
 
 "But Bagshot has the paper." 
 
 And I have no copy!" groaned the man. "What 
 you say is true. We are defeated unless you 
 will be directed by me and have the spirit to 
 act." 
 
 And what would you have me do, Mr. Went 
 worth?" 
 
 "I mean this," said Wentworth, struggling to a 
 sitting position. "That which may not be gained 
 by force or law might be gained by subterfuge. One 
 must sometimes fight fire with tire." 
 
 "I do not I do not understand," she faltered. 
 
 "I see how it can be done," was the quick reply. 
 " It is well Bagshot does not dream that you witnessed 
 his coming or knows you are here; well that you 
 raised no alarm. There is but one way. You must 
 steal that paper from your uncle--for of course he 
 and not Planet has it by this. You must play the 
 innocent. Take Lady Macbeth s advice to her 
 husband look like a flower, but be a serpent. Stick 
 to him. Your chance will come. As for me, I have 
 a grievance apart from yours, and it will be but a 
 few hours before I face that fellow again." The 
 .speaker s enthusiasm made him stronger. "I will 
 corner him, by Heaven! and before he has time to 
 copy the map! I will play against him openly while 
 vou work in secret. That brute shall not get that
 
 104 THE RED PAPER 
 
 which is yours that which is my duty to see that 
 you get so long as I can fight for you. 7 
 
 The young lady s face colored deeply as she listened 
 to this outburst of modern knight errantry. "Ah, 
 but I have found a friend!" she said, quick tears 
 filling her blue eyes. "Do not think I lack spirit. 
 I see your plan, and, indeed, under the circumstances, 
 it is more feasible than a resort to violence. I will 
 do it. I will stay by him through everything and 
 watch for my opportunity." 
 
 "You will steal it?" 
 
 "I promise, though it would not be theft. He shall 
 not profit by that paper, even if I have to destroy 
 it. It is not wealth I wish. I have ample means 
 besides my ranch, but it would be a sin to let him 
 triumph in this. I shall follow him like a shadow." 
 
 She appeared equal to that and more as she stood 
 up and held out her ungloved hand to Wentworth. 
 It is best that I go now," she said. 
 
 The young man took the extended hand, and on 
 an impulse raised it to his lips. It was done in per 
 fect respect. The girl flushed rosily, but the hand 
 was not snatched away in prudish haste. The 
 act was like the sealing of a compact between 
 them. 
 
 " If the Lord lets me live, I will see you to-morrow, " 
 said Wentworth, as the smooth fingers slid from his 
 grasp. 
 
 "Be careful oh, be careful!" she exclaimed. 
 
 "Have no fear for me," returned John, with the
 
 THE PLAN 105 
 
 ghost of a smile. "I shall not be alone this time 
 and I am stronger with a new strength." 
 
 She left him, but her cheeks were like roses as she 
 turned away. 
 
 If John Wentworth had not been a perfectly 
 healthy animal, the shock of his experience would 
 have led to a fever, but instead of worrying over past 
 events, he allowed the prospects of the future to 
 comfort him. He was still too weak and miserable 
 to attempt to lift the overturned table, or even 
 gather its scattered contents, and lay back on the 
 divan until nature took him in hand and sent him 
 into a restoring sleep. It was late in the afternoon 
 when he awoke with a start to find Thomas standing 
 over him. 
 
 "I have a letter for you. sir," said the discreet 
 butler, as his master opened his eyes. He appeared 
 not to have noticed the condition of the room. 
 
 Wentworth sat up and looked around in the dazed 
 and comical way of one aroused from deep slumber. 
 His brain was clear, albeit his head was sore and 
 there was a lump on it, but he w r as in good humor. 
 
 "A letter, Thomas?" 
 
 "Yes, sir. I found it in the box." 
 
 "I think the room needs a little of your care, 
 Thomas," said Wentworth, tearing the flap of the 
 envelope. 
 
 "I dessay, sir." said the butler, without moving, 
 but his fine old face was troubled. 
 
 And, Thomas, I have a very bad head." 

 
 106 THE RED PAPER 
 
 "Yes, sir. Quite natural, sir, 11 was the imperturb 
 able reply. "Shall I get you some soda, sir?" 
 
 Wentworth looked up quickly and caught the 
 expression of doubt and solicitude on the old man s 
 face. "Why, you superannuated old idiot!" he ex 
 claimed, with affectionate banter. "You think I 
 have been on a spree! Not on your life, Thomas. 
 I simply had a brief interview with the parties who 
 tried to flim-flam you last night, and I got a blow on 
 the head." 
 
 "Good Lord, sir!" Thomas face turned pale. 
 "And I was not here!" 
 
 "That was fairly evident to me. No one was 
 here of consequence to defend me." 
 
 "God bless my soul, Master John! And did they 
 rob you?" 
 
 "Personally I think I lost nothing and yet, 
 Thomas. I may have. But I feel pretty sure I have 
 their goat. " 
 
 "Their goat, sir?" Modern slang was lost on the 
 old servitor. He glanced quickly around the room 
 as if expecting to see one of the genus Capricornus, 
 then looked into the face of his master, the trouble 
 deepening on his own. 
 
 "I am speaking metaphorically, my good friend. 
 I do not refer to an animal, but to a condition. Of 
 course nothing will prompt you to mention what i 
 have told you. 
 
 "Yes, sir; of course, sir. But if the police 
 
 "Never mind the police, Thomas. 1 will take care
 
 THE PLAN 107 
 
 of that end of it. Now, if you will run out and get 
 me some witch-hazel I ll try to reduce this bump of 
 combativeness on my head. 
 
 "Yes, sir, certainly, sir; and He stopped as 
 his eye caught sight of something on the floor. He 
 stooped and picked it up gingerly, his face becoming 
 set as he recognized and held out a lady s embroidered 
 handkerchief. "I beg pardon, sir." 
 
 "Strange!" said Wentworth, putting down the 
 unopened letter and taking the dainty square of fine 
 linen held toward him. "I wonder how this thing 
 got here. It must belong to a lady!" 
 "Yes, sir. I fancy so, Master John." 
 "I see! One of those gay Lotharios must have 
 dropped it in the scrimmage. It is valueless except 
 as a clue. " 
 
 "Perhaps Miss Lothario might have 
 "Never mind, Thomas. Now for the witch- 
 hazel." 
 
 The old man went toward the door, walking 
 slowly. In the hall he stopped, looked back at the 
 studio, shook his white head, sighed profoundly and 
 went on his errand. As for Wentworth, he empha 
 sized the worthlessness of the handkerchief by in 
 haling its delicate perfume, folding it thoughtfully 
 and putting it carefully in the breast pocket of his 
 coat. That done he turned attention to the neg 
 lected note. 
 
 It was from Harper, and had evidently been sent 
 by messenger. It read :
 
 108 THE RED PAPER 
 
 Dear Jack: 
 
 Got home to discover things in a devil of a 
 pother owing to I he governor being down with a sudden 
 and severe a/lack of gout. You know the old gentleman, 
 lie is as irascible as the deuce and won t let me out oj 
 //is sight. Will try to sec you to-morrow, but may not 
 make it until next day. Hope you have a good photo, 
 and made original safe. 
 
 TOM. 
 
 Wentworth smiled grimly, and gently touched the 
 protuberance on his head. "I fancy it s safe enough 
 from me!" he muttered. "And the chances are that 
 I will have to work without you. o:d man!" 
 
 He was impatient to start out on his campaign of 
 revenge, but he felt his present inability and useless- 
 ness. When Thomas returned he allowed the old 
 man to bathe and bandage his head, refusing in set 
 terms to have a doctor; then he ate sparingly, dis 
 missed the butler, and w r ent to bed early. His mind 
 was fully made up as to what he would do the follow 
 ing day, but in the morning he found himself with but 
 little energy, though the swelling on the side of his 
 head had gone down and was less sensitive. The 
 hours were lost in hoping and waiting for Harper, but, 
 as that individual was not forthcoming, Wentworth 
 determined to act alone. 
 
 By noon he felt better and went out to lunch, after 
 which he started down-town. Knowing the power 
 of money, and its probable necessity in carrying out
 
 THE PLAN 109 
 
 his purpose, he called at his bank and drew three 
 hundred dollars, mostly in small bills, then hailing 
 a taxicab he gave orders to be taken to Police Head 
 quarters. He had determined to run no further 
 risks, and his next act should be backed by the arm 
 of the law. He had been assaulted. Perhaps the 
 arrest of Bagshot might bring that individual to 
 terms; at all events, it would soothe his own hurt 
 pride and make some amends for the lump that came 
 just within the leather of his hat. 
 
 In front of the stone palace on Center Street he 
 dismissed the taxi , and entered the building.
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 ANOTHER LETTER 
 
 WENTWORTH S first step was a technical 
 blunder, though in the end it proved a 
 fortunate one. Instead of asking for the 
 chief of police, he requested an interview with the head 
 of the detective department, and after being passed 
 from hand to hand, was finally ushered into the office 
 of that functionary, only to find he was out of town. 
 Wentworth was about to inquire of the clerk as to 
 who represented the chief, when the door of the room 
 opened and a young man softly entered. For a mo 
 ment the two looked at each other, and then the 
 stranger spoke. 
 
 "This is Mr. Wentworth?" 
 
 "Yes," said John. "I have seen you before, 
 somewhere, but unfortunately I cannot place the 
 occasion." 
 
 "And small wonder," returned the other. "I 
 saw you but for an instant on the night of of your 
 father s death. You may remember that I had 
 something to say to you, but you were in no shape 
 to listen and the inspector choked me off. You went 
 upstairs. " 
 
 110
 
 ANOTHER LETTER 111 
 
 "Ah, yes. I have in indistinct recollection of it." 
 
 "Are you here, may I ask, on that business?" 
 
 There was something in the frank and respectful 
 manner of the young fellow that caused Wentworth 
 to warm toward him; moreover, it was a relief to 
 find one in that place who was not an utter stranger. 
 He remembered that the man had said he was a 
 detective, but there was little of the air of a thief- 
 catcher in his open countenance, his clear blue eye, 
 and his fresh-colored and almost boyish cheek. 
 
 The matter may be distantly related to my 
 father s death," was the reply. "I need help, and 
 came here to get it." 
 
 "By Heaven, sir," said the other with enthusiasm, 
 we are both lucky. I was about to look you up, 
 Mr. Wentworth. 1 expected to see you the day 
 after that affair, but on my coming back here I was 
 at once sent out of town on a case. I returned this 
 morning. Would you mind coming to my quarters 
 for a fe\v minutes? Perhaps I can help you out in 
 the way you wish; anyway, I have something im 
 portant to say to you." 
 
 "Something important?" 
 
 "Yes, sir. If you will step into my room I will 
 explain." 
 
 Soon after the two were seated in a little office in 
 which there was no furniture save a desk and two 
 chairs. The walls were bare, and there was noth 
 ing in the surroundings either to stimulate imagina 
 tion or interfere with thought. The detective
 
 112 THE RED PAPER 
 
 closed the door, kicked a black bag out of his way, 
 and seating himself at the desk, opened a drawer, 
 took out a box of cigars and offered it to his visitor. 
 
 "My name is Bunson, Mr. Wentworth," he said, 
 throwing himself back in his chair after the two had 
 lighted up. "You never heard of me, of course, 
 because I have done nothing to make my name 
 thunder, and haven t yet got on the advertising side 
 of the reporters." 
 
 He smiled, showing a fine set of teeth. 
 
 " Let us get right down to business. I will first 
 tell you what I have to say, then listen to you. The 
 night I went to your house I heard that you had 
 stated your belief that Captain Wentworth had been 
 murdered, but by the others who had arrived before 
 me your idea was ridiculed; no convincing evidence 
 of violence had been discovered, But I never take 
 the opinions of others as a guide to my own con 
 clusions, and, as a member of a force of the methods 
 of which few know much, and the public knows abso 
 lutely nothing, I generally keep my conclusions to 
 myself until they can be verified." 
 
 He looked fixedly at Wentworth; the young man 
 made no reply beyond a nod of understanding. 
 "Now, sir," continued the detective, impressively, 
 "on the night I visited your house I made an important 
 discovery, and one that inclines me to believe you 
 were right in thinking your father was murdered." 
 
 He paused to let the statement have its full effect; 
 and that it did have was apparent in the set, white
 
 ANOTHER LETTER 113 
 
 face of the visitor. What was coming? For a moment 
 Wentworth stared at the detective, then his lips 
 formed rather than spoke the question: 
 
 "By whom?" 
 
 "By a man named Bagshot. Perhaps you know 
 What s the matter, sir?" 
 
 Wentworth had risen to his feet like one con 
 fronted by a ghost. 
 
 "Bagshot! Bagshot!" he ejaculated. "It was 
 about him that I came here! What do you know?" 
 
 "Nothing that is absolutely certain," said Bunsen, 
 as Wentworth resumed his seat, "but I have sus 
 picion;, well-founded suspicions. I have kept them 
 to myself, so far. We of the New York police force 
 are human, sir jealous, if you please. I have no 
 intention of sharing any possible glory I may get from 
 my profession. The evidence I found I have kept 
 secret until I could see you." 
 
 And what have you found?" demanded Went 
 worth, gaining strength of voice as his heart steadied. 
 
 "This, sir," returned the other, opening the wallet 
 he took from his pocket and extracting a paper. 
 "I happened to be the only one who had the wit or 
 wisdom to look under the blotting-pad on your 
 father s desk. 1 was alone when I found it. Of 
 course I was searching without definite hope of getting 
 evidence to carry out your theory, but I think the 
 evidence is here. You will >:oe that this paper is 
 dated the day of your father s death, and by com 
 parisons I kno .v it was written by Captain Went-
 
 114 THE RED PAPER 
 
 worth. You will sec that it is unfinished as if he 
 had been interrupted while writing it that he had 
 hidden it temporarily under the pad, and intended to 
 complete it." 
 
 Bunsen opened the paper and laid it on Went- 
 worth s knee. The young man was fairly trembling 
 in his eagerness. Surely it was his father s writing; 
 he knew it at once. It read: 
 
 Mr. Simeon Bags hot, 
 
 West 84th St., City. 
 Sir: 
 
 You asked me for a definite answer to your demand 
 of two days ago, but I have waited until now to reply 
 to you because I have had a struggle with myself. And, 
 sir, I have won. Shall 7, on the threshold of the grave, 
 succumb to the demands of such a monster as you? 
 to such a poltroon! Never. You have taken most 
 of my fortune; is not that enough? In addition to the 
 loss of my reputation you speak of violence, if I do not 
 meet your wishes. In plain terms, you threaten to 
 murder me. I laugh at the tJircat, though morally I 
 believe you equal to the attempt. 
 
 Before you receive this I shall have passed the paper 
 into the care of my son. and will have given him a full 
 explanation, as I should have done years ago. In 
 future you may deal with him if you dare for the 
 
 Here the letter ended abruptly, and it had evidently 
 been hurriedly placed under the pad without being 
 blotted, for the last line was blurred.
 
 ANOTHER LETTER 115 
 
 "The bottom of the pad has ink on it," said the 
 detective quietly as John finished reading. "A 
 small matter, but something." 
 
 Wentworth s hands were trembling. My 
 Heavens!" he ejaculated under his breath; and I 
 have had my hands on Bagshot twice since this was 
 written." 
 
 "You? On Bagshot! How?" 
 
 "I will tell you; but first let me get control of 
 myself," said the young man, rising and striding up 
 and down the confined limits of the room. In a few 
 moments he reseated himself and point by point told 
 the story as he had told it to Harper, but now adding 
 the adventure of the day before. Bunscn listened 
 attentively, his eyes lighting with intelligence, but 
 otherwise his face was sphinx-like. When John 
 had finished the detective rose to his feet. 
 
 "We have hardly enough in this to make it plain 
 that Bagshot saw your father at all that night, though 
 the letter speaks of threats against the colonel s 
 life. But with your story and this letter we have 
 enough to at least cause the man s arrest on suspicion. 
 
 "You want him for assault and robbery, if for 
 nothing else. He s got what he was after, and you 
 can bet he ll act quickly now. We have no time to 
 lose. What do you know about Planet? Had you 
 seen him before yesterday?" 
 
 "No," said Wentworth, but, as he uttered the 
 word, a light burst upon him. "Yes yes!" he 
 exclaimed. "I have it I did see him I remember.
 
 116 THE RED PAPER 
 
 It was on the night of the murder, by Heaven! He 
 was in front of my father s house! He asked me the 
 hour! I could swear to him!" 
 
 "Wait here a moment until I can report my 
 absence!" cried Bunsen, jumping to the door. "I 
 will go with you at once. We ll nab our man within 
 an hour!" 
 
 He rushed from the room, but was back before 
 Wentworth could gather his flying thoughts together. 
 Opening the bag under his desk, the detective took 
 from it a revolver and a pair of handcuffs, which 
 he stuffed into his pockets. 
 
 "Come along/" he said, now all animation and 
 activity. 
 
 And the two hurried out. 
 
 As they reached the street the sound of a fast- 
 striking gong caught the attention of both, and the 
 next moment a fire-engine tore by, going up Center 
 Street. In the trail of its smoke a hook-and-ladder 
 truck went after it at full speed. "Fire up- town 
 somewhere," said Bunsen, "and I think we are 
 going to start something of a blaze, ourselves." 
 He laughed. 
 
 "What is your plan of action?" asked Wentworth, 
 as they strode toward the subway station at Worth 
 Street. 
 
 "It is simple enough," said the detective, sobering. 
 "But I will admit I am taking long chances in tht 
 matter. I would feel better armed if I had a warrant, 
 but to get a warrant would take time, and I figure
 
 ANOTHER LETTER 117 
 
 we haven t a moment to lose. This is a mighty 
 unique case, sir, and if I can pull it off it will be a 
 big feather in my cap. As for my plan it is to 
 catch the men any way I can, and lock them up. 
 If one squeals on the other, so much the better. You 
 want the paper; I want Bagshot; and if I get him 
 I ll make some of those wiseacres that had the case 
 in hand feel like a plugged nickel. Here we are, sir." 
 The two descended into the subway. A few people 
 stood aimlessly on the long platform, but no roar 
 of an approaching train echoed through the tube 
 and the great tunnel was unnaturally quiet. Over 
 the ticket-agent s window was a hurriedly written 
 sign: 
 
 "Trains not running. No tickets sold until 
 further orders." 
 
 "What s this about?" said Bunsen, bending his 
 head to the hand-hole in the glass. 
 
 "Fire in Parker Building up- town. Danger to 
 subway from falling walls, I suppose. No tickets 
 sold. That s all I know about it. You may have 
 to wait five minutes or five hours I don t know." 
 
 "Block number one!" said Bunsen, turning to 
 Wentworth. "It s always so; but a bad beginning, 
 you know. We ll have to go over to the elevated." 
 
 There was little else to do, and they made the trip 
 almost in silence. In half an hour they were out 
 of the train, and noticed that from Eighty-first Street 
 to some distance above, the down track was blocked
 
 118 THE RED PAPER 
 
 by a line of standing cars. But this was not occa 
 sioned by fire; the up- town trains still passed, and the 
 line ran nowhere near the burning Parker Building. 
 
 Without stopping to inquire the trouble, the two 
 went on, and in ten minutes more were in front of 
 the apartment-house. Wentworth was about to go 
 into the vestibule and ring the bell when Bunsen 
 held him back. 
 
 Don t get excited, sir. I know a trick worth 
 ten of that. A ring might be a warning to a fellow 
 in Bagshot s fix. Come with me." 
 
 He went down to the tradesman s door in the 
 basement, Wentworth following, and together the 
 two men went upstairs. But there had been no 
 occasion for their caution, for the door of the Merridale 
 flat was open and a man was sweeping out the private 
 hall. As Wentworth glanced in and marked the 
 litter lying about, his heart sank; he felt that it was 
 too late; that the birds had flown. He walked up 
 to the sweeper. 
 
 "Arc you the janitor?" he asked. 
 
 "I am th jt." was the answer given in a surly tone, 
 and with barely a glance at the questioner. Went 
 worth was too full of his errand to take warning 
 from the man s attitude. " Where are the tenants 
 who were here the Merridales?" he asked. 
 
 " "Fis no business o 1 mine where they be," was 
 the short return to the abrupt and tactless question. 
 
 "Have they gone?" 
 
 "They hov, me fine felly."
 
 ANOTHER LETTER 119 
 
 "Where? Do you know?" 
 
 An if I did, the likes o me would not be tellin 
 it to ye; mind that." 
 
 The reply was decidedly aggressive, and the two 
 eyed each other belligerently. Bunsen touched 
 John on the shoulder and laughed lightly. 
 
 "I think, sir," he said, "you had better have left 
 this to me. The old adage molasses and vinegar, 
 you know, sir. This is a matter for haste and soap, 
 sir. We ll have to grease his wheels, I take it. Are 
 you fixed?" 
 
 Wentworth recognized his mistake, but set about 
 to rectify it. Taking out his wallet he extracted a 
 bill. 
 
 "See here, my friend," he said, speaking in a 
 modified tone, "we wish to know where Mr. Merridale 
 is. Come, now, when did he go?" 
 
 And he passed the bill into the janitor s hand. 
 
 "Well, sor, if that s the way of it, he went this 
 mornin ." 
 
 "But he has left all his furniture behind!" said 
 John, looking around the parlor and noticing that its 
 general appearance was unchanged; even the chair 
 he had smashed lay in a corner, but the trunks were 
 gone. 
 
 "Faith, the fixin s didn t belong to him! He sub 
 let the place. Mr. Duke was as foine a gentleman 
 
 "We don t care for him," interrupted Bimsen in 
 a gentle voice. "Do you know where the Merridale.; 
 went?"
 
 120 THE RED PAPER 
 
 "No, sir, on me anner, I don t. They went off 
 afoot this marnin , say ten o clock." 
 
 And the trunks?" 
 
 "Pat Cody s express kem after thim arly say 
 eight o clock." 
 
 "Thank you. How many went of the people?" 
 
 "The two, sir; the young leddy an her dad." 
 
 "No one else?" 
 
 "Why, a furrin-lookin chap was here for a little, 
 but I saw him go out arly whin I was sweepin the 
 walk." 
 
 "Good! Joe Planet!" said Bunsen. 
 
 "Like as not. I heard him called Joe," said the 
 janitor. 
 
 "And you don t know where the trunks 
 went?" 
 
 " So help me, I do not. How cud I?" 
 
 "I believe you. Where is Cody s stand?" 
 
 "Round the corner -furninst a bookstore. Ye 
 can t help seem it. May I ask ye what ye want of 
 the Merridale feller? " 
 
 "Well, that s rather too much to the point," said 
 the detective. "And you can tell us no more of 
 him, I suppose?" 
 
 "I can, then," said the janitor. "He managed 
 to smash a windy in the basement with somethin 
 tied to a long cord Heaven knows why -an he 
 stove in thi.-> dure, though he denied it like the thafe 
 he is. He was a deep wan, sir; a felley I niver 
 liked; but the leddy she was different." The
 
 ANOTHER LETTER 121 
 
 nan pointed to the splintered panel. Wentworth 
 : railed but said nothing. 
 
 "Very good very good," said the detective 
 smoothly. "I think that s all. Come, Mr. Went 
 worth, we have one more chance to save our jelly. 
 We ll try Cody." 
 
 The big janitor watched them hurry down the 
 stairs. 
 
 "An much good he ll get o Cody!" he muttered, 
 resuming his broom and his work. 
 
 "Block zwei!" muttered Bunsen, as he reached 
 the front door.
 
 CHAPTER X 
 A MATTER OF HASTE 
 
 IS the two men emerged into the st vef heated 
 by the afternoon sun, neither spoke. The 
 detective s mouth was set with a determina 
 tion which might have been mixed with an expression 
 of disappointment, but Wentworth was beset by 
 r-omethmg like a sense of shame. 
 
 For in spite of himself a great wave of suspicion 
 had taken possession of him. Was it possible that 
 Grace Merridale had been false to her promise 
 had gone and left no word, when he had told her he 
 expected to see her that day? Or his cheeks grew 
 hot at the thought had he been only a confiding 
 fool? Had the girl been merely a stool-pigeon de 
 liberately paving the way for Bagshot? Had that 
 individual known of her presence in the studio 
 in fact, sent her there? Perhaps the girl was not 
 Grace Merridale! Great Ocsar! What an ass he 
 had been to have allowed himself to be so easily 
 hoodwinked by a pretty woman with the airs and 
 graces of an angel one who had aroused his interest 
 
 122
 
 A MATTER OF HASTE 123 
 
 as no other woman had yet done. And with no more 
 recommendation than that carried in her face he 
 had taken her into his full confidence, and proclaimed 
 his idiotic weakness by kissing her hand! More 
 he had shown her the paper, the very thing she 
 wished, the very thing for which she had worked 
 him; and then to appear innocent she had played 
 at terror that she might save her patron or wo, 
 from being at once pursued. 
 
 "Hell!" muttered the young man, as he walked 
 rapidly by the side of the silent Bunsen, perspira 
 tion suddenly streaming from every pore. "In the 
 name of all the saints! how can I expose my utter 
 idiocy to Harper? I ought to have a nurse!" 
 
 Then another thought struck him. If she were a 
 fraud why all that strenuous business? I offered 
 her the paper before those villains came in. Why 
 didn t she take it? 
 
 The puzzle smote him, bringing a sense of relief, 
 and so affected him that he stopped on the sidewalk. 
 "What s the trouble?" asked Bunsen. "Got an 
 idea?" 
 
 "Yes but it s not a practical one," returned 
 Wentworth from whom nothing could have dragged 
 his present thoughts. 
 
 "Then you stop for nothing/ was the ungracious 
 reply. 
 
 Mr. Patrick Cody, expressman, sat on an up 
 turned trunk, smoking a black cigar and rubbing
 
 124 THE RED PAPER 
 
 his stubby red beard with a thick, red hand when 
 Bunsen and Wentworth halted in front of his stand. 
 
 "Cody s Express?" asked the detective with an 
 insinuating smile. 
 
 "Yis," was the short answer. 
 
 "You are Cody?" 
 
 "Yis." 
 
 "I believe you moved three trunks from the third 
 flat of number , round the corner, this morning." 
 
 "Well, what av it?" 
 
 " If you don t mind, we would like to know where 
 you took them." 
 
 The detective s voice was fairly purring with good 
 will, but Cody glowered at him. 
 
 "Ye wud! Well, if that s yer only business, ye 
 can run along after I m telling ye I tuk thim to me 
 express wagon." The tone was uncompromising, 
 and it was evident that Cody s temper was set on a 
 hair-trigger. Bunsen tuined easily to Wentworth, 
 speaking in a low tone: 
 
 "Looks like block number three! More soap, sir." 
 John took out his wallet, but before he could extract 
 a bill the little Irishman bristled. 
 
 "None o that with me, now! I know youse fellys! 
 Ye think because ye hov 
 
 "Look here!" exclaimed Bunsen, wheeling on the 
 sour man. "W T ho do you take us for?" 
 
 "Do ye want me to move a trunk, or anny stuff?" 
 
 "No, we do not."
 
 A MATTER OF HASTE 125 
 
 "Then, I take ye for a couple o loafers an 
 that s all ye get from me." 
 
 "And you refuse to answer a civil question?" 
 
 "I do that. G wan ye bother me." 
 
 "Put up your pocketbook, Mr. Wentworth," said 
 the detective briskly, an ugly look coming into his 
 boyish face. "I ll attend to this chap." 
 
 He threw open his vest and, walking up to the 
 Irishman, who now wore a decidedly defiant aspect, 
 laid one hand on his shoulder and with the other 
 tapped the silver shield which was pinned to his 
 suspender. 
 
 "You come with me, my fine lad! By the time 
 you ve cooled your heels at headquarters for a few 
 hours you may take it into your head to answer 
 me." 
 
 "Who are ye?" demanded Cody, sliding from the 
 trunk, but not from the grasp that held him, his jaw 
 falling. 
 
 "Detective from central office, my garrulous 
 friend," returned Bunsen, taking the handcuffs from 
 his pocket. "You are helping the flight of a crim 
 inal, which in itself is a criminal offense. See? I 
 fancy we can pry open your mouth. " 
 
 Fore Heaven, sir!" said Cody, the ruddiness 
 fading from his face. "I know nothing about it, 
 sir! I only tuk the trunks!" 
 
 "You lie!" said Bunsen sharply. "You were paid 
 for keeping your head shut. How much?"
 
 126 THE RED PAPER 
 
 Cody seemed to shrink to half his normal height 
 and his face took on a look of panic. 
 
 "I T. The gintleman gave rne five dollars, but 
 he didn t tell me" 
 
 "No matter what he didn t tell you! Where did 
 you take the trunks?" 
 
 "To to the Texas Line pier, sir, East River. 
 That s the truth." 
 
 "I think likely!" said Bunsen, flashing a glance at 
 John. "When does the steamer sail?" 
 
 "So help me, I don t know, sir. This day, I think. 
 If ye let go your holdt I ll see. There s an X. Y. Z. 
 Guide inside." 
 
 "Get it," said Bunsen crisply, letting go his grip 
 on the thoroughly cowed expressman. When the 
 book was brought he ran over its leaves in feverish 
 haste until he found what he wished. 
 
 "Texas Line to Galveston! Pier , East River. 
 The Lone Star. By thunder, Mr. Wentworth, she 
 sails this afternoon at five o clock! What time is 
 it?" 
 
 Wentworth drew out his watch and snapped it 
 open. "Three thirty-five." 
 
 "Good Lord! An hour and twenly-five minutes, 
 with the subway likely to be blocked, and the elevated 
 at a standstill!" Both men glanced upward to 
 where the line of trains still lay motionless. Down 
 by Eighty-first Street a crowd stood on the corner, 
 looking upward.
 
 A MATTER OF HASTE 127 
 
 "A car jumped the switch beyant the station," 
 said the expressman, in a desire to ingratiate hit. 
 with the detective. 
 
 "What s to be done"- 1 " asked Wentworth, in con 
 sternation at the combination of circumstances which 
 had thwarted them from the start. In face of the 
 presence of Bunsen who was directing matters he 
 did not look to his own resources. 
 
 "By the Lord Harry! Block number four!" ex 
 claimed the detective. "The chances are that the 
 subway is not running, either; and if it were the 
 trains would crawl. Is there a livery-stable, or 
 better a garage hereabouts?" he asked, turning 
 quickly to the Irishman. 
 
 "I don t know of wan, sir," said the man respect 
 fully. "Ye might hov me wagon, only tis out." 
 
 "By the powers," exclaimed the detective, "this 
 is desperate! Come on, Mr. Wentworth. There s 
 one chance for us! and only one." 
 
 "Why not phone to the pier and demand Bagshot s 
 arrest?" suggested Wentworth. Bunsen laughed. 
 
 "On what authority? Would a mere telephone 
 message be a warrant to drag a passenger from a 
 steamer or even delay the vessel s sailing hour? 
 No, sir; I had thought of that. We have got to be 
 on the spot and show cause. Damn these roads! 
 Everything seems to have conspired against us! But, 
 as I have said, there is one chance. Come, sir we 
 must step out. "
 
 128 THE RED PAPER 
 
 They walked to the corner of Eighty-third Street, 
 Bunsen looking up and down the long block. Half 
 way to Central Park a taxicab stood in front of a 
 private residence, the chauffeur nodding sleepily 
 behind the steering-wheel. 
 
 "Aha just the thing!" exclaimed the detective, 
 catching his companion by the arm and hurrying 
 him across the avenue. Almost on a run they 
 reached the taxicab. Bunsen pulled open the door 
 and pushed Wentworth in. "It s all right, sir. 
 I ll attend to this. 
 
 At the sound of voices by his ear the somnolent 
 chauffeur woke up. " Whatcher y mean, you bloom- 
 in loafer?" he shouted. "Git out o that. This 
 here cab s engaged 1 Dontcher see th sign?" He 
 was off his seat and on the walk before he finished 
 his protest. Bunsen calmly confronted him. 
 
 "Yes, I see the cab is engaged and I am the one 
 who engaged it. If 
 
 "Don t you try to play me for a sucker, you rube. 
 This here cab is engaged by a lady in th house. I 
 know what I m talkin about! Git out o there." 
 The last to Wentworth. 
 
 "Stay where you are, sir," said Bunsen; then 
 turning to the irate chauffeur he wagged his finger 
 in the man s face. "I ve about thirty seconds to 
 waste on. you, my friend," he said, again opening his 
 vest and tapping his official badge. "I m a police 
 detective chasing a murderer. We want this car
 
 A MATTER OF HASTE 129 
 
 as no railroads are running and we re going to take 
 it in the name of the law. Choke that into yourself. 
 If you care to work for us and obey directions, well 
 and good; if not, I ll seize and run her myself and 
 it wont be the first time I ve swung a wheel. Now, 
 sir, as for you. I ll hold you unharmed in the matter, 
 and, moreover, it will be a ten dollar bill for you, 
 over and above your regular fare. Speak quick. 
 Will you take the wheel or shall I?" 
 
 "For two cents I d smash you!" was the truculent 
 reply, but without trucu ence of attitude. 
 
 "That s up to you, son! If you think you can 
 down the police force of this ville take a try on one 
 of them right now. This taxi goes see? I ll give 
 you ten seconds to decide about going with it." 
 
 The man hesitated and looked up at the house. 
 Bunsen turned and slammed the door of the vehicle, 
 but before he could do more the chauffeur decided. 
 
 "That was all guff about the smashin , cull." 
 
 "I imagine as much." 
 
 "You ll make it all right at the station?" 
 
 "I told you so." 
 
 "It ll cost me my job." 
 
 "I ll see that it don t." 
 
 "All right. I fall for the ten an take a chance. 
 Where do you want to go?" 
 
 "First, to the court-house then to pier East 
 River. And you can drive like it was a joy-ride; 
 I ll back you. But if you try anything funny with
 
 130 THE RED PAPER 
 
 me you ll fmd yourself in the cooler for your 
 pains." 
 
 "You win!" exclaimed the man. "Jump in." 
 Bunsen stepped to the small seat by the driver. In 
 a moment they were oil. 
 
 Wentworth was fairly dazed by the suddenness of 
 it all, and he had a new and mighty respect for the 
 detective. The easy-going man had not realized the 
 possibilities for a strenuous spirit armed with the 
 law one of quick wit and determined character. 
 But as the taxi flew along he regained his composure 
 and lighting a cigarette, wondered w r hy the swaying 
 vehicle was not stopped by some outraged policeman 
 of the traffic squad; then he thought of the detective s 
 badge, and was comforted. 
 
 All that troubled him now was the, to him, pre 
 sumable fact that he had been fooled by a girl he, 
 a man of the world. He was losing sight of one 
 of his motives in acting. At this time he was not 
 chasing Bagshot so much for having stolen the map 
 of the lost San Saba mine as for being the probable 
 murderer, and traducer, of his father. And now he 
 had hopes of catching him. 
 
 Going over to Madison Avenue as the least con 
 gested thoroughfare, and so down Fourth Avenue, 
 the taxi stopped for an instant at Cooper Square, and 
 Bunsen jumped from the box and took his place by 
 Wentworth. "What time now?" he asked sharply, 
 as they started again.
 
 A MATTER OF HASTE 131 
 
 "Four o clock," was the answer. 
 
 "Good! We ll get him! Shows the value of a 
 strong bluff, sir," said the detective, laughing easily. 
 Had Cody called me I would have had to lay down 
 my cards. I had no warrant no shadow of a right 
 to arrest him without one, but I thought I saw 
 through the fellow. This taxi is all right. I am 
 chasing a criminal the law provides for such cases, 
 but I am weak from lack of papers and dare not 
 tackle my man without them now; the steamship 
 company must and would protect its passengers." 
 
 "I see/ said Wentworth; "But even if this had 
 failed even if we had not learned of Bagshot s 
 whereabouts until he had sailed, we could still have 
 recourse to wireless telegraphy. Every steamer car 
 ries wireless, I believe." 
 
 "Right you are, regarding the machine," returned 
 Bunsen, whose brows were knitted as he looked 
 straight ahead, "but do you know, sir, that as the 
 powers that rule have decided that your father did 
 not die by violence I doubi. if the}- would care to 
 reopen your case and prove themselves wrong, 
 much for humanity or inhumanity! And wou\I 
 it do any good if they did reopen the case? Supper 
 we ordered the arrest of Bagshot, by wireless, and 
 suppose he traveled under another name. Where 
 would we be?" 
 
 "Then telegraph to Galveston, giving his descrip 
 tion, and have him arrested on arrival."
 
 132 THE RED PAPER 
 
 Bunsen smiled grimly. "Do you know that he 
 is going to Texas by sea or to Texas at all? Doesn t 
 it occur to you that the trunks may be a blind? 
 What shall prevent him from doubling on his tracks?" 
 
 Wentworth sat back aghast. 
 
 "But, sir," continued the detective, "between 
 you and me and the post, he is going on the Lone 
 Star. Though I can t bank on my belief I am 
 taking chances. Here s my plan, sir. I jump down 
 at the court-house and get a warrant of arrest I 
 have a pull in there. You go on to the steamer, 
 Give the chauffeur ten dollars I promised that 
 you re the bank. Then see the purser or the agent 
 or the captain, and do anything to hold the boat 
 until I get there. I leave the matter to you. But 
 first you had better be sure our game is on board. 
 Catch on?" 
 
 "Perfectly." 
 
 "And keep out of sight yourself. If Bagshot or 
 Planet caught a glimpse of you our half-baked cake 
 might be made dough in a pig s whisper. However, 
 you can bet I ll be there if there s a judge on the 
 bench." 
 
 The clean-cut, rapid tire of the detective s speech, 
 and his decision of character, made it impossible for 
 Wentworth to criticise the ouuined plan, though 
 he did not like his own commission. He was unused 
 to this kind of business; he had been dwelling apart 
 from a world in which the clash of man with his
 
 A MATTER ON HASTE 133 
 
 fellow cut such a largo figure. In theory he accepted 
 such warfare as necessary, but had never dreamed 
 he would be dragged into it. He seemed to have 
 been born anew. The ennui which oppressed him 
 before and since his father s death had been dissipated 
 in the rush of late events, but mingled with the relief 
 of changed conditions was a feeling of keen disap 
 pointment which centered around the personality 
 of the girl who had hoodwinked him. He was 
 thoroughly ashamed of himself. 
 
 Wcntworth asked the detective for no details; he 
 looked upon doing so as a sign of weakness and want 
 of confidence; nor, when the taxi swung from Broad 
 way and stopped in front of the granite monstrosity 
 known as the "court-house," did he have any plan 
 of action; in fact he doubted the ability of any one, 
 not armed with the law, to stop the sailing of the 
 Lone Star if the officials decided it was to proceed 
 on its voyage. But he did not voice this conclusion, 
 to Bunsen as that individual leaped out. 
 
 "We have all the time we need, sir," said the 
 detective, slamming the door after him. "Look for 
 me in about half an hour. I will be there before she 
 sails." He ran up the broad stone steps, and the 
 vehicle went on. 
 
 On account of blocked traffic it was some little 
 time before the pier was reached. Wentworth got. 
 out and handed the chauffeur twenty dollars, turn 
 ing away without seeing the salute of the astonished
 
 134 THE RED PAPER 
 
 driver. A few moments later he stood in the pier 
 office of the passenger-agent. 
 
 "May I see your list of passengers?" he asked of 
 a hard-faced man who, in an inky linen coat, was 
 writing as if his life depended on his haste, lie 
 stopped long enough to whirl a book in front of his 
 visitor, but he did not look up. Wcntworth glanced 
 down the short column. There they were. 
 
 Mr. Simeon Bagshot; Mr. Jose. Planet; Miss Grace 
 Mcrridak; all of New York. So she was Grace 
 Merridale. 
 
 And it was somewhat evident that the criminal 
 felt fairly safe. It was also possible, the young man 
 thought, that Bagshot had too small a respect for 
 the man he had outraged and robbed. The very 
 display of the names was like an insult to Went- 
 worth; he had presumably not been thought worthy 
 of consideration; there was no disguise either of 
 person or destination. The young man bit his lip 
 and turned to the writing clerk. 
 
 "Are you the agent, sir?" 
 
 " Yes. What do you want?" 
 
 "Sir," said John, his pulses rising, "you have 
 two passengers aboard the Lone Star who are 
 criminals running from justice. I have traced them 
 here. With this knowledge you will put nothing 
 in the way of their arrest, I presume? Is there an 
 officer on the pier?" 
 
 The hard-faced man dropped his pen and looked
 
 A -MATTER OF HASTE 135 
 
 up quickly. "Running away! Criminals! What 
 names?" 
 
 "Bagshot and Planet." 
 
 "What do you come to me for? What do you 
 want an officer for? Are they condemned criminals?" 
 
 "No, sir; not yet." 
 
 "Haven t you a warrant?" 
 
 "No, I have not, but" 
 
 "But nothing! What in the devil do you take 
 me for, a fool? and the police, too? Who are you?" 
 
 "A private citizen, sir. My name 
 
 "I don t care a curse for your name! Don t you 
 see I am up to my neck, and with no time to waste 
 on ignorance? The steamer sails in less than half 
 an hour, and 
 
 "Can you not hold her for a few minutes over 
 if the warrant docs not arrive in time? I am 
 expecting 
 
 "Not a second, sir, not a second! Mr. What s- 
 your-name, if you find your parties on the pier you 
 can take them for all I care, but on our boat, sir, 
 they are safe unless you can come to me heeled better 
 than you are. I mean no disrespect but there s 
 the door behind you." 
 
 And, without vouchsafing another word, the 
 agent bent over his papers. 
 
 John was angry. But what could he say or do? 
 To argue would be a loss of time; moreover, he had 
 no argument.
 
 136 THE RED PAPER 
 
 "I wonder what numbered block Bunsen would 
 call this!" he muttered, as with a heightened color 
 he left the office. In the shelter of a pile of freight 
 he halted and considered. There was nothing for 
 it but to go aboard the steamer and risk being seen 
 by those whom he wished to avoid, and leaving his 
 cover, he approached the gangway with his head 
 down. He dared not look up and, therefore, did 
 not catch the cautionary wave of a handkerchief, 
 nor did he hear the light call of his name from the 
 rail of the deck above him; the growing thunder of 
 the escaping steam from the safety-valve of the 
 waiting vessel prevented that.
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 ON THE LONE STAR 
 
 THE list he had looked at showed Wentworth 
 that there were not more than a round dozen 
 of passengers bound South; it was not the 
 time of year to attract travel to Texas, and, therefore, 
 there was no confusion on and round the gangplank 
 as he walked up its incline; even the bustle of steve 
 dores was lessening. He inquired his way to the 
 purser s office, and on finding it, was informed that 
 the purser was on the pier attending to business. 
 After a glance at the weak face of the young assistant, 
 Wentworth concluded that he would be incapable 
 of helping him and, therefore, determined to strike 
 at once at the highest authority: the captain. He 
 was told that that official was probably on deck, 
 aft, and with a gradually fading hope of being able 
 to do much with the vessel s commander at such a 
 time, he went down the long, dim passage between 
 decks, toward the stern of the steamer. He met 
 no one until he emerged into the saloon and was 
 about to go up the companionway, when he heard 
 
 137
 
 138 THE RED PAPER 
 
 a quick exclamation and found himself confronting 
 Grace Merridale. 
 
 Next to Bagshot himself the girl was about the 
 last person Wentworth cared to meet, for with his 
 present notion of her tmtrustworthmess, and the 
 necessity of his presence remaining unknown to her 
 uncle, he felt that for him the fat was in the fire. 
 Bagshot would be warned of his coming, and, so 
 enlightened, would know what w r as afoot. The 
 young man drew himself up stiffly. 
 
 The girl s face was drawn and haggard, notwith 
 standing that her cheeks were flushed and her eyes 
 shining from excitement. "Ch, I saw you coming 
 up the pier!" she exclaimed in a whisper. 
 
 "Yes?" There was an uncompromising terseness 
 in the return." 
 
 "I I am so glad! But we cannot stand here," 
 she said, apparently not remarking the man s cold 
 ness. "Come with me, please." 
 
 She turned from him, whisking herself into the 
 short passage from which she had emerged, and 
 Wentw r orth, with no definite intention of any kind, 
 followed her, perhaps only for the reason that she 
 had asked him. At the further end of the passage 
 she opened a state-room door, and with a finger on 
 her lips held it for Wentworth to enter, which he did. 
 Closing the door she turned and faced him. "Thank 
 Heaven!" she exclaimed, breathing as if after a 
 violent exertion. "Then you received my letter?
 
 ON THE LONE STAR 139 
 
 Why did you come this way? They might have seen 
 you! Have you are you quite recovered?" 
 
 For the past two hours the young man had so com 
 pletely lost faith in the girl he had tried to befriend, 
 that on the instant of the unexpected meeting he 
 had only the feeling that, as Bunsen had expressed 
 it, his half-baked cake had gone suddenly to dough. 
 But as he now saw her face in the clear, white light 
 coming through the open port-hole, he felt that pos 
 sibly his disappointment had tinctured his judgment 
 that possibly he had leaped to a conclusion which 
 might prove unwarranted. Or was it that she was 
 still playing with him? guessing his errand, and 
 holding him from its completion? Looking into her 
 face it was impossible to believe it. Wentworth 
 was human and young but he did not purpose to 
 be deceived again, if deceived he had been; yet he 
 knew that now the policy of honesty would serve 
 him better than inventing a lie. 
 
 "I have had no letter from you," he answered. 
 
 "Then how did you know 
 
 "I traced you here and came without the hope 
 of meeting you. I am waiting for an officer with a 
 warrant for your uncle and Planet." 
 
 "No letter from me! I sent one by special 
 delivery and paid the janitor to mail it. Oh, it 
 is too late! The steamer sails in a few minutes! It 
 was not until last night that I knew of my uncle s 
 intentions. I did not demur; I appeared to be glad.
 
 140 THE RED PAPEK 
 
 And he suspects nothing. I have had no chance 
 to recover the paper yet." 
 
 There was no doubting her honesty. If ever 
 Truth came up from her well to peer through a 
 woman s eyes she was there looking at the man, in 
 the person of Grace Merridale. Wentworth felt his 
 doubts slipping away, and in their place came the 
 old longing to help her, though then his power to do 
 so seemed slight enough. 
 
 "Where are they your uncle and Planet?" he 
 asked, looking at his watch. There were fifteen 
 minutes left; perhaps Bunsen was already on the 
 pier. 
 
 "On deck with their heads together. Planet is 
 ill from the way you treated him. They did not 
 see you. I I was looking for you. I thought you 
 might" 
 
 "Where are you going?" 
 
 "I don t know. Home, presumably; but I shall 
 go wherever he goes until I have that which is mine. 
 I think he wishes to be rid of me now. I think he 
 would desert me if he could or dared." 
 
 "And Planet?" 
 
 "Desert me? Oh, no! He She stopped and 
 a vivid blush took the place of words. Wentworth 
 snapped the case of his watch with unnecessary vigor, 
 and his voice, which had softened, again became cold. 
 
 "It is to be hoped that your uncle doesn t abuse 
 you?"
 
 ON THE LOXE STAR 141 
 
 "No, he would not dare." 
 
 "I see. Of course not. Jose Planet would pro 
 tect you." 
 
 Pier lips parted at the change in his tone a change 
 of which he was hardly aware himself and she 
 looked at him as she quietly answered: "Of the two 
 I would prefer my uncle s abuse to Planet s protec 
 tion, Mr. Wentworth. I am in an extremely awk 
 ward position for a woman. Think what I have to 
 contend with; think what I have to do, and do 
 alone." 
 
 "If Bunsen gets here in time you will be relieved 
 of the necessity. I have been unable to do much 
 alone, myself. I was about to go to the captain 
 when I met you." 
 
 "For what?" 
 
 "To get him to hold the vessel in case the warrant 
 is delayed." 
 
 "It would be useless," the girl answered. "If 
 the captain did not order you off the ship he would 
 laugh at you. He and my uncle are friends of years 
 standing." 
 
 "Ah! then our hope lies in Bunsen getting here 
 in time! You do not consider yourself in any 
 danger?" 
 
 "No unless they learn of my knowledge of what 
 they have done. I don t dare to think of what 
 might happen in that event. Uagshot is a desperate 
 man -you know that. I think he might kill me-
 
 142 THE RED PAPER 
 
 kill us both if he knew you were with me here. He 
 would guess what it was for." 
 
 She put her hands to her face. Wentworth cursed 
 himself for having doubted her, at the same time 
 seeing how his presence in her state-room might 
 compromise her. "Forgive me for jeopardizing your 
 safety/ he said. " I did not think. And 
 
 He was interrupted by the sound of a bell being 
 rung in the passage, and a man shouted as he 
 passed: "All ashore that s going ashore." 
 
 Wentworth turned to the door, leaving unfinished 
 what he was about to say. "You will let me hear from 
 you?" he asked. 
 
 "At the first chance. Probably from Galveston." 
 
 "Then Heaven send you luck, Miss Merridale. 
 I cannot forgive myself that it is through my stupidity 
 you are in this coil of circumstance. My interest 
 in the matter is as great as yours. Good-bye." 
 
 He held out his hand. The girl took it, and as the 
 young man looked into her eyes he saw both dread 
 and appeal in them, but the smile she gave him was 
 a brave one. 
 
 "I will do my best to win," she said briefly, and 
 turned away. 
 
 Wentworth hurried back to the gangway in a 
 frame of mind that would have made it unlucky for 
 either Baghot or Planet to have met him then. 
 Had he felt certain of non-interference he would 
 have hurried to the upper deck, tackled the greater
 
 ON THE LONE STAR 143 
 
 villain of the two and dragged him ashore, but in 
 an instant he recognized how nonsensical had been 
 the idea. Yet, was he to stand by and see the man 
 whom he believed to be the murderer of his father go 
 scot-free? It looked so, and his spirit rebelled at 
 the hopelessness of the situation. 
 
 And the girl! Fie was stirred by a feeling greater 
 than pity a feeling new to him as he remembered 
 the forlorn face that had seemed to appeal to him. 
 And he had left her tied to two brutes. Would she 
 be brave? Would she accomplish her end alone, or 
 would her spirit fail her? 
 
 Though the warning to those going ashore had 
 been sounded for some minutes Wentworth saw the 
 gang-plank had not yet been removed; therefore he 
 took his stand on the lower deck, near the gangway. 
 From his station he could command a view of part 
 of the pier and a stretch of the street along which he 
 knew the detective would come. A line of trucks 
 crawled over the hot highway, but no hurrying taxi- 
 cab met his vision; no man on a run. Would Bunsen 
 never come? 
 
 His mind swung from his business to the girl who, 
 he thought, must now be feeling unutterably lonely. 
 With his open watch in his hand he waited, his 
 brain busy, but his mind a blank to his immediate 
 surroundings. The bustling stevedores had now 
 ceased their rush; a group of deck-hands were taking 
 their stand at the falls of the great gangplank, and
 
 144 THE RED PAPER 
 
 the rattle of empty baggage-trucks trundled along 
 the hollow pier was drowned in the strident roar of 
 the escaping steam. 
 
 John glanced at his watch. The hour for sailing 
 was already past, and he was suddenly hoping that 
 the delay would be prolonged, when he was approached 
 by an official in uniform. 
 
 "Are you a passenger, sir? If not, you have less 
 than a minute to get ashore." 
 
 Wentworth looked up and realized that the time 
 had come. He was brought suddenly to himself, and 
 something within him protested at the interruption 
 to his thoughts. He closed his watch and was about 
 to move to the pier, when from an impulse which 
 had no backing of reason or intention, and which 
 allowed him no chance for consideration, he lounged 
 to the bulwark, threw his arm along the broad rail, 
 and assuming an attitude of careless ease, answered: 
 
 "I am a passenger, sir." 
 
 The officer turned away. "Haul out the gang 
 plank!" he shouted above the thunder of escaping 
 steam, and the next instant the heavy bridge swung 
 clear of the deck. Not until then did Wentworth 
 become fully conscious of what he had done. Even 
 at that time he could have gained the pier-head by 
 a vigorous leap, but he did not attempt it. It was 
 a decidedly undreamed-of situation for the young 
 man. It seemed to him that his act had been directed 
 by some power outside of himself; indeed, so dazed
 
 ON THE LONE STAR 145 
 
 was he by his own unexpected determination, a 
 determination having no recognized relation to a 
 previous mental state, that he stood where the 
 officer left him until the steamer had drawn well 
 away from its berth. Even when he had fully 
 realized what he had done, how unprepared for the 
 situation he was, and how probably useless to him 
 self or to the girl would be his quixotic attitude, he 
 did not regret his act. Neither did he consider of 
 his wisdom or foolishness. It did not take a deep 
 analysis to discover why he had thrown himself into 
 a path which, he knew well enough, might easily 
 become dangerous would certainly become so the 
 moment he showed himself to the man to whom he 
 was a threat and an open enemy. 
 
 Wentworth had no definite plan, but he knew that 
 to make his purpose aboard anything more than an 
 absurd farce a plan must be laid. The primary 
 object, he thought, was to be the means of capturing 
 his father s murderer; the secondary object, to follow 
 and protect the lady, who, but a few hours before, 
 he had mentally cursed as a false siren. However, be 
 his design what it might, he recognized the fact that 
 he must not have his presence known to Bagshot 
 or to Planet until he had fixed upon some mode of 
 procedure against them. He must obtain a room 
 and conceal himself, and with a last, despairing look 
 at the now deserted pier, and up the street, he turned 
 and made his way to the purser s office. A moment
 
 146 THE KED PAPER 
 
 or two later he came to the hurried conclusion that 
 he had been guided by the goddess of Good Fortune. 
 
 As he entered the small room, having met no one 
 on his way there, a man was busy at the desk, but 
 it was not the weak-faced clerk; he was absent. As 
 the door opened and closed the man looked up. 
 
 "Do you wish to see me?" 
 
 "If you are the purser." 
 
 "Yes, sir, and Why, hello, Wentworth! It is 
 Wentworth, is it not? I didn t know you were with 
 us!" 
 
 Wentworth looked at the man in surprise, then 
 the light of recognition came to him. "Van Buskirk, 
 by all that s holy!" he exclaimed, grasping the out 
 stretched hand. "What are you doing here?" 
 
 "Purser here," said the other. "Went to Texas 
 two years ago, you know. Knocked around hopeless 
 for a spell, then through a pull, fastened on to this 
 job. Been here a year. I m glad to see one of the 
 old class. How do you come to be aboard? Your 
 name is not on my list." 
 
 "I know it; that s why I happened in. The Lord 
 has delivered me into your hands! It is a streak 
 of luck! Get me somewhere where I won t be seen 
 until I have a talk with you." 
 
 The purser frowned. "You not seen! What s the 
 matter? Male or female?" 
 
 " You are still the same kind of an ass you always 
 were in college, Van," said Wentworth, good na-
 
 ON THE LONE STAR 147 
 
 turedly. "The matter is serious but not yet tragic. 
 Do as I ask you. I ll tell you about it later." 
 
 The purser looked closely at his old classmate, and 
 saw there was something more than banter in the 
 demand. Without further words he opened a door. 
 "Go right into my room/ he said. "I ll be with 
 you when I can get a breath of freedom from this 
 business." 
 
 Wentworth entered at once. The purser closed 
 the door behind him. "Lord!" he ejaculated, as he 
 sat down again. "Wentworth doing a dodge ! Went 
 worth of all men!" 
 
 But two hours later he had heard his old college- 
 mate s story, or as much of it as the young man 
 thought advisable to give him. Of the murder of 
 his father he made no mention, confining himself to 
 the theft of the paper, though he did not tell its 
 character. In fact, he made his presence appear 
 to be the result of a chivalrous impulse inasmuch 
 as he allowed it to be inferred that he was acting 
 more in behalf of Grace Merriclale than for himself. 
 
 "What I wish," he said finally, "is to keep con 
 cealed from Bagshot and Planet; not that I fear 
 them, but it would put the lady in a bad position, 
 and make her efforts useless if they knew we had 
 anything in common. I wish their arrest. " 
 
 "Naturally but how will you accomplish it?" 
 
 "You are fixed with wireless? It s the law, I 
 believe."
 
 148 THE RED PAPER 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Then perhaps messages can be sent from here 
 to the New York police, and an order returned 
 authorizing the captain to hold the criminal. You 
 see 
 
 "My dear fellow, it is you who don t see," inter 
 rupted the impressed purser, laying a hand on his 
 friend s knee. "No question or message goes to 
 or from this vessel without the captain s knowledge. 
 And Shearpole? Not on your life, John! You say 
 you have no warrant; then you are crippled. Cap 
 tain Shearpole and Bagshot are as thick as thieves. 
 They were at sea together years ago, when Bagshot 
 did the act I m doing, aboard this Lone Star. He 
 always goes and comes with Shearpole. No, Jack, 
 you won t catch them that way; the captain would 
 be more likely to block your game than block Bag- 
 shot s. Your man, Bunsen, don t know you are 
 aboard? don t even know for certain that Bagshot 
 is?" 
 
 "I suppose not unless he gets the list. He 
 knows nothing of my being here, that s certain." 
 
 "Ah! And not finding you he ll be likely to let 
 the matter drop as you will appear to him to have 
 done! Let me think." The purser rubbed his 
 chin thoughtfully. "I don t see a hole out!" he 
 finally said. "If you telegraph the police the cap 
 tain must know of your being aboard; then the 
 whole ship would know, and you would be in the
 
 ON THE LONE STAR 149 
 
 soup. Bagshot will hatch up a story. Shearpole 
 will raise hell and how will you come out? It s an 
 easy conundrum. I would advise you to let wireless 
 alone, Jack." 
 
 "You are a Job s comforter, for sure, Van." 
 
 "Well, not altogether, I think. It is more than 
 likely that Bunsen will telegraph orders to Galveston 
 and have your friend nabbed when he steps ashore. 
 That would be better than warning them ahead of 
 time. There are more or less relations between the 
 police forces of the two cities, while the captain of a 
 ship is an uncertain quantity." 
 
 "That s a fairly brilliant idea," said Wentworth. 
 He had been depressed by the outlook, but the 
 purser s suggestion appeared logical. 
 
 "And it is necessary that you keep out of sight; 
 I see that," continued Van Buskirk, cheerfully. "All 
 I can do for you is to give you a room. Of course, 
 you pay your passage you are not a stowaway. 
 If you haven t the money I ll let you have it." 
 
 "Thanks, I have sufficient." 
 
 "All right! You can play sick; be an invalid, 
 you know, and I ll see that your meals are served in 
 your stateroom. At night, you can go out for air 
 and exercise. I ll share my clothes with you, we 
 being about a size, and in a uniform cap I don t 
 think they would catch on to you if they saw you, 
 especially in the evening. I dare do no more than 
 this; I don t wish to be ruined. At Galveston you
 
 150 THE RED PAPER 
 
 can consult with the authorities. Shall I let the 
 lady know you are aboard?" 
 
 "No," returned Wentworth, "I believe I can man 
 age that when I am ready." 
 
 "I ll warrant it for a million," returned the 
 other, laughing and thrusting his tongue into his 
 cheek. "Come, I ll get you settled away from 
 Bagshot, and then send you in some clothes and 
 some supper. You must be nearly starved. I 
 know I am." 
 
 While Wentworth, in the secrecy of his cabin, 
 was eating his first meal on board the Lone Star, 
 he had one source of satisfaction and one hope. 
 First, that he would see the girl again and mark the 
 surprised pleasure on her face; and, second, that 
 the astute Bunsen, when he arrived at the pier and 
 found the steamer gone, would telegraph to Gal- 
 veston and have the criminals arrested on their 
 landing. It was bright of Van Buskirk to have 
 foreseen that but then. Van had always been bright 
 enough, and faithful to his friends. He should be 
 rewarded. 
 
 And on landing he, the outraged Wentworth, 
 would be on hand as a witness and identifier. He 
 knew that unindicted criminals were often caught by 
 means of the telegraph, though just how it would 
 be in Bagshot s case he could not feel certain; but 
 he would be there; and he now saw that it was 
 well that he had obeyed the impulse to remain aboard.
 
 ON THE LONE STAR 151 
 
 He sat back in satisfaction, and, taking out a cigar, 
 sent its smoke to tangle among his dreams of the 
 future, not knowing that almost directly across the 
 now heaving vessel in her cabin Grace Merridale 
 was also dreaming dreams not so roseate. 
 
 Neither did he know that at the very moment 
 he was thus heartening himself Bunsen was lying 
 in a hospital in a dazed and half-conscious condition. 
 That individual had hurriedly closed the taxicab 
 door on Wentworth, given his card to the chauffeur, 
 rushed into the court-house and up the long stair 
 way, two steps at a time, on his way to the office 
 of the district-attorney. Once there he knew how 
 to make the wheels run rapidly for himself. 
 
 As he reached the head of the broad stairs the 
 green baize doors of the hall were dashed open and a 
 hurrying messenger drove into him at full speed, 
 knocking him backward, and together the two had 
 rolled down the steps. 
 
 The messenger was not badly injured, but Bunsen 
 lay unconscious and was at once hurried to the 
 Hudson Street Hospital. The fates were not yet 
 ready to smile on Mr. John Wentworth.
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 A CLIMAX 
 
 THAT evening, clad in dark clothes, and with a 
 yachting cap borrowed from the purser, 
 John went on deck. He had hoped and 
 expected that at least he would have a sight of Mis.-; 
 Merridale, but in this he was disappointed; a strong 
 wind was blowing from the south, and the ship, 
 driving into it, gave the air the force of a whole gale. 
 It was very damp, too, and the deck so unpleasant 
 as to be almost deserted; to the young man it was 
 evident that the girl preferred the comfort and solitude 
 of her stateroom. 
 
 But he faced the strong wind, striding up and down 
 and thinking of the consternation caused by his 
 sudden and unexplained absence from his studio. 
 Neither Harper nor Thomas could have any knowledge 
 of his whereabouts, or even of his safety, and it would 
 be impracticable to communicate with either in 
 less than a week. Bunsen, he thought, would be 
 bright enough to understand his absence, but the 
 others might be possessed by the idea of foul play, 
 and so arouse the police to action. 
 
 152
 
 A CLIMAX 153 
 
 "A fine mess I ve made of the whole thing, from 
 the beginning up to date! he muttered to himself, 
 halting in his walk and rewrapping the leaf of his 
 cigar, which was glowing in the wind as though it 
 would burst into flame. As he did so, and saw the 
 uselcssness of smoking in such a rush of air, a figure 
 emerged from the shadow of a sheltered nook and 
 accosted him. 
 
 "May I beg a little fire, sir? One can t light a 
 match in this cursed draft. 1 
 
 With a glance Wentworth recognized the man. 
 
 It was Bagsliot. There was no mistaking his 
 figure, his Southern accent, or the quality of his 
 voice, though th/j gloom was too deep to allow more 
 than the outline of his features to be seen. John 
 did not start. He knew his own identity was not 
 suspected, and, without speaking, he tendered his 
 half-consumed cigar. 
 
 But he watched the face of the other as it was faintly 
 illumined by the fitful glow of the fire. It was hard 
 and ugly, and there was a two days 1 growth of gray 
 stubble on the square chin, while the lines under the 
 small gray eyes were dark. It was the countenance 
 of a tired and worried man. 
 
 The cigar was returned with a gruff "Thanks," 
 and with a stiff bend of the body, Bagshot went back 
 to his shelter. Without a return of the salutation 
 Wentworth threw the remains of the cigar over the 
 rail, and to avoid the appearance of sudden retreat
 
 154 THE RED PAPER 
 
 he took two or three more turns up and down the deck, 
 his eye open for Planet. But Planet was not in sight. 
 Wentworth returned to his quarters, and for a moment 
 was tempted to do a foolish thing: find and force the 
 door of Bagshot s stateroom and search it for the red 
 paper; but when he stopped and considered that the 
 Mexican might be there, and that in all probability 
 his enemy carried the precious document on his per 
 son, he saw both the uselessness and danger of such 
 an attempt. 
 
 The following two days were stormy, and so 
 boisterous that the deck was untenantable. Night 
 and day Wentworth remained in his room, lonely 
 save for the infrequent visits of the purser, and beset 
 by ennui and discouragement, though he was not 
 seasick, being too hardened a yachtsman for that 
 weakness. 
 
 The fourth night out was ideal. The sea had gone 
 down and the soft, warm wind bore a hint of the 
 tropics the vessel was approaching. There was no 
 moon, but the stars were bright, their light glinting 
 from the tops of the burnished swells, though barely 
 illuminating the black sea. It was a night for 
 romance and adventure, a night for music and lan 
 guor for love and lovers. 
 
 Hot, impatient of himself and thoroughly dis 
 gruntled with life, and these from a cause he had 
 not attempted to analyze, Wentworth went on deck 
 as soon as it became fairly dark. The change of
 
 A CLIMAX 155 
 
 weather and the steadiness of the ship had brought 
 nearly every passanger from below, and Wentworth 
 had not made half the tour of the deck when he saw 
 the subject of most of his thoughts sitting on the 
 starboard side, near the main stairway, and at some 
 distance from the chattering group of convalescents. 
 The girl was alone, her head resting on one hand as 
 she reclined in a steamer-chair. In the reflected light 
 from the saloon her face showed very pale, while 
 both attitude and expression spoke of lowness of 
 spirits. She did not notice the tail young fellow who 
 passed her, nor did he attempt to attract her atten 
 tion; just then he dared not; he first wished to see 
 if the coast was clear. 
 
 Wentworth did not find Bagshot or his henchman, 
 though he looked sharply as he went around the deck. 
 By then he was keyed up, though he held himself 
 at apparent poise, and as he completed the round 
 of the vessel s deck he flung away the remains of 
 his cigar and approached the lady. 
 
 "Miss Merridale." 
 
 At the sound of her name uttered by a stranger 
 the girl looked up quickly, then she leaned forward, 
 her lips parted, her eyes very wide. She might have 
 sat for a model of Consternation. Wentworth was 
 at her side in an instant. 
 
 "Pardon me. I was inconsiderate to startle you 
 so," he said softly. She turned and looked at him, 
 her eyes glowing, her hands clasped over her bosom.
 
 156 THE RED PAPER 
 
 "You! You! What are you doing here?" The 
 voice was barely above a whisper. 
 
 "I hardly know, myself," said Wentworth. attempt 
 ing a light laugh. " Only I am here. At the . , 
 minute my spirit protested. I could not leave you 
 alone. I I stayed to help you." 
 
 "I I am glad I did not know it. I should have 
 forbidden you." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 "Not that I do not appreciate what you would do 
 for me. You were good to think of me, but bat 
 you will only make matters worse! Mr. Wentworth, 
 you must not stay here, by rne. He is coming up in 
 a moment. Don t let him see you! Think of what 
 might happen!" 
 
 "I feel reasonably secure for the present; it 
 is for you I am anxious. Is there anything 
 new?" 
 
 "Nothing. I have been sick in body and heart. 
 Oh, do go." 
 
 "How is our mutual friend and admirer, Jose?" 
 
 "He is sick, also, I understand. Oh, Mr. Went 
 worth, please go." The voice was low and pleading; 
 the girl was on the verge of panic, but, man-like, 
 Wentworth looked upon her state as an additional 
 attraction. It would not be fair to state that he 
 realized the extent of her suffering, but it was novel, 
 and something more than merely pleasing for him 
 to be begged for anything by a pretty woman or
 
 A CLIMAX 157 
 
 by that pretty woman. He did not make a move 
 to leave her. 
 
 "And am I never to see you? Am I not to be 
 considered?" he asked. 
 
 "Not considered? Considering you is what I am 
 doing! What more can I do? Please please 
 She stood up and laid a hand on his arm. "Won t 
 you give me time to think?" 
 
 "Let me think for you," returned the man, with 
 a sudden passion he did not understand that was 
 strange to him. "I ll swear no harm shall come to 
 you. As for myself, I have no fear." 
 
 "Don t! Don t talk so!" she implored. "If- 
 I will find a way to meet you when we can be safer. 
 Where is your room?" 
 
 "Number thirty-nine near yours." 
 
 "Oh, how have you dared? How have you dared? 
 And for me!" 
 
 "For you. And I will see you. I must." 
 
 "Perhaps, but no longer now 
 
 "How long must I wait?" 
 
 "Until you hear from me." 
 
 "It will be soon?" 
 
 "Soon." She held out both hands to him to urge 
 him from her, and now her face was animated. 
 Wentworth, now well launched on what to him was an 
 unknown sea, caught one of her hands and was about 
 to raise it to her lips when he saw her look directed 
 to something behind him, and her eyes widen with
 
 158 THE RED PAPER 
 
 fear. He dropped the lax fingers and turned to see 
 Bagshot step through the door of the companionway. 
 
 That individual was smiling broadly a smile that 
 suggested his having for some time enjoyed a sight 
 of the two, though to have heard a word through the 
 intervening distance would have been impossible. 
 He walked directly to the young man. 
 
 "How do you do, Mr. Wentworth?" 
 
 The tone was that of easy friendship; there was 
 neither anger nor astonishment in it. To all ap 
 pearances here was the casual meeting of two acquain 
 tances. The girl buried her face in her hands. 
 
 "You had better retire to your stateroom, my 
 dear," said Bagshot smoothly, though there was a 
 sinister ring in his voice. "I think I can entertain 
 this gentleman."
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 AN OPEN GAME 
 
 IT cannot be said that Wentworth held a perfect 
 mental poise as he realized the situation, but 
 if he had a sense of absolute consternation, he 
 was overcome but for a brief instant, and failed to 
 show it in either face or bearing. With a quick 
 appreciation of the fact that Bagshot could not 
 know of the extent of his intimacy with the girl, he 
 ignored the hypocrisy of the extended hand and 
 addressed the lady as she started to turn away. 
 
 "I trust, madam, you will pardon my effrontery. 
 My plea is that I have seen you once before in your 
 father s house. I hope to have the pleasure of seeing 
 you again." 
 
 "You are excusable, perhaps, under the circum 
 stances," returned the girl, grasping at self-control, 
 and on the instant following the lead she was given. 
 "You took me at a disadvantage. I was startled. 
 Good-evening, sir." 
 
 She bowed gracefully and left the two men together, 
 carrying herself proudly until she reached her state 
 room. In its seclusion she dropped on the cushioned 
 
 159
 
 160 THE RED PAPER 
 
 locker and, burying her face in her hands, broke into 
 a paroxysm of subdued sobs. 
 
 On deck Wentworth and Bagshot stood looking 
 at each other for a moment, neither speaking. Pres 
 ently the latter broke the silence. 
 ; "Do you take me for a fool, sir?" 
 
 The interim had given the younger man time to 
 collect himself. The success of his interview with 
 the lady, and the easy way they had pulled the wool 
 over the eyes of Bagshot, made his position so as 
 sured in his own mind that he felt almost jocular 
 as he answered: 
 
 "That is a question admitting of argument, Mr. 
 Bagshot, or Merridale Bagshot. It is said that 
 every man is a fool for being dishonest or criminal. 
 On that basis I must think you a fool, for you cer 
 tainly are a villain." 
 
 The other did not appear to be offended at this 
 plain speech which brought him to a stop. A moment 
 or two intervened, then, grasping a deck stanchion, he 
 leaned against it and said: "You don t mince your 
 words, sir. You certainly are honest in that regard. 
 What do you expect to do on board this vessel?" 
 
 "That is strictly my affair," said Wentworth, 
 taking a fresh cigar from his pocket and carefully 
 cutting off the end. He had himself well in hand by 
 then, and he made up his mind to protect the girl 
 at any cost to himself. 
 
 "However," he continued, taking a match from a
 
 AN OPEN GAME 161 
 
 gold box and affecting a carelessness he was far from 
 feeling as he lighted the perfecto, "I am so far im 
 pressed by your tribute to my honesty that I will 
 continue to be plain. I called you a villain. You 
 are a liar, as well. If you are that lady s father, her 
 name cannot be Merridale. If she is not your 
 daughter, I congratulate her." 
 
 "And how did you come to know my name?" 
 asked the other, biting his lip. 
 
 "That is my business." 
 
 Bagshot forced a laugh as he took a cigar from 
 his own pocket, lighting it. "You certainly are a 
 man of parts, Mr. Wentworth! I admire you! I 
 wish I could enlist you ! Let us talk plainly a moment. 
 You have followed me for a purpose; that purpose 
 is connected with a certain paper. 
 
 "That paper was, and is, mine at least as much 
 mine as yours, and Grace Merridale stands nearer 
 to me than to you." 
 
 "How much nearer?" 
 
 "That is my business." The return was made 
 with an air of great satisfaction. Wentworth was 
 vexed at having laid himself open to his enemy, even 
 in a fence with words. Bagshot continued: "You 
 had no warrant in law for holding that paper. You 
 assaulted me, not I you. The law you would like 
 to invoke would protect me and not you. I have 
 the paper and, therefore, possess nine points in our 
 contest. What can you do about it?"
 
 162 THE RED PAPER 
 
 Notwithstanding that his gorge was rising against 
 this bare sophistry, and the last question did nothing 
 to allay his anger, Wentworth felt relieved inasmuch 
 as it was fairly plain that Bagshot did not suspect 
 the girl. 
 
 "I confess that I came here to shake the paper 
 out of you." said the young man. "But I came too 
 late. As for being here now I was carried off by 
 accident." 
 
 Bagshot grinned in his face. "And you still take 
 me for a fool. You had some other reason. What 
 is it?" 
 
 "Again, that is my business." 
 
 "Which answer is an acknowledgment of the fact 
 as I stated it. What is the use of our fencing like 
 little boys with reeds? Come, sir! Can we not 
 compromise? If you will drop your absurd position 
 regarding the thing called honor, and join me, I will 
 make you fabulously rich. Can we not do it? I 
 think so. I need a man like you." 
 
 Wentworth had been holding himself in check, 
 and to avoid boiling over at sight of the man by his 
 side he turned and looked out over the dark sea 
 that rolled under and gently heaved the vessel. But 
 at Bagshot s infamous proposition to compromise 
 with him he lost hold of both temper and discretion, 
 and wheeled on the Southerner. 
 
 "What, sir! Do you propose that I sell out at the 
 expense of Grace Merridale and the honor you sneer
 
 AN OPEN GAME 163 
 
 at? Listen to me : I would as soon compromise with 
 the devil himself! I know you, sir, from the soles 
 of your feet to the top of your foul head. You 
 are right in thinking I am here for some purpose 
 other than to obtain possession of a map that may 
 or may not be worthless, and in which I have 
 no interest. Have you taken me for a cursed 
 idiot?" 
 
 "Perhaps you are something of a villain yourself," 
 was the angry retort. "Would you be so hot on my 
 trail if I had not a handsome daughter? Or, do 
 you aim at thanks and a more tangible reward from 
 Grace Merridale? If not, why are you here?" 
 
 Wentworth s spleen rose high at the sneer at him 
 self, and higher at the thinly covered insult to the 
 lady. If he needed proof that Grace Merridale 
 was not this man s daughter it was furnished by 
 Bagshot s innuendo against her. Throwing every 
 consideration to the wind, Wentworth took a step 
 nearer the man, holding on to the upright stanchion, 
 and in a low voice, he said: "Sir, have you even no 
 regard for a lady s reputation? You ask me what I 
 am here for. Well, Mr. Simeon Bagshot, I am here 
 that I may see you arrested when you set foot in 
 Galveston arrested, not as a mere thief, but as a 
 murderer." 
 
 "Murder!" exclaimed Bagshot, straightening him 
 self and suddenly losing the sardonic grin he had 
 put on when Wentworth began his tirade.
 
 164 THE RED PAPER 
 
 "Ay, murder! And had this vessel been delayed 
 ten minutes you would now be in the Tombs!" 
 
 In the uncertain light Wentworth could see the 
 man s complexion change, its normal ruddiness giv 
 ing place to pallor, while the cigar he had been smok 
 ing fell from his lips unnoticed. 
 
 "You are crazy!" said Bagshot; but the protest 
 was neither loud nor strong. 
 
 "Comfort your soul that way, if you can," was the 
 retort. "I keep my hands from you now, but if 
 I did not live in the hope of justice, I d throw you 
 over the rail if I had to swing for it. 
 
 "Listen to me! You are the last man my father 
 ever saw in this world. You threatened to murder 
 him. Outside of his house, Planet your veritable 
 satellite, stood watching. I saw him; he spoke to 
 me. Now you know me, sir, and as Heaven is my 
 witness, I ll follow you to the crack of doom to bring 
 you to your just deserts!" 
 
 Wentworth delivered this forcibly, being well-nigh 
 beside himself, and as he saw the effect of the shot 
 he had fired, he at once regretted it. He knew he 
 had accomplished no more than to put his enemy 
 on his guard. 
 
 For all his powers of self-control this blow was 
 more than Bagshot could stand. However, the 
 gloom hid much of his emotion from Wentworth; 
 it hid the palpable shaking of the man s knees, if 
 not the nervous working of his face. He still had
 
 AN OPEN GAME 165 
 
 hold of the deck stanchion, else he might have fallen, 
 and he stood, not daring to let go, for a moment 
 unable to speak. But he was not the man to run 
 tamely from any field. After a space of silence he 
 recovered a measure of self-control, sufficient, at 
 least, to enable him to use his voice. 
 
 "I I confess you staggered me, Mr. Wentworth," 
 he began, with an attempt at lightness of manner. 
 "No man listens to a charge of to such a charge 
 unmoved. But your bluff is nonsensical! I grant 
 you may have reason to feel hard toward me as I 
 have got the better of you but as a threat you are 
 not a success. A gentleman of my standing is not 
 to be fazed by one of your stamp. Sir, your father 
 died of heart disease. Even the police say there was 
 no no murder. I understand you now. You have 
 played your card, but you have yet to see mine. 
 Good-night, sir." 
 
 Without risking a return from the other he pulled 
 himself upright and walked off with an attempt at 
 jauntiness and a wave of his fat hand. 
 
 But the words and act did not deceive Wentworth, 
 who remained looking at the door through which 
 Bagshot disappeared. I have rather overleaped 
 the matter," he mused; "but I have given that 
 fellow a shot under his water-line and what have I 
 gained? Not a damn thing but to put myself in 
 danger. For Bagshot is not the man to let me alone 
 after this. Hereafter, I think I had better not
 
 166 THE RED PAPER 
 
 expose myself after dark; the water is cursedly deep 
 here!" 
 
 He finished his cigar in silent cogitation, tossed the 
 end over the rail and turned in, carefully locking his 
 stateroom-door. For the first time in his life he 
 wished he carried a revolver.
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 BAGSHOT S FIRST MOVE 
 
 AGSHOT was a shaken man, and looked it 
 as he went down the broad companion steps 
 on the way to Planet s stateroom. But 
 he was a man of resource a man who dies hard. 
 His lip was bleeding where he had bitten it, and the 
 color had not returned to his face as he entered his 
 henchman s well-lighted quarters. Planet lay in 
 his bunk, weak, yellow and nerveless. The Mexican 
 was not a good sailor. 
 
 "What ecs eet?" the sick man asked as he saw the 
 other s face. 
 
 "What ees eet!" was the mocking return. "I 
 have just met Wentworth that ees eet." 
 
 "Heem! Here!" The Mexican started to his 
 elbow. 
 
 "Yes heem is here," was the scornful answer. 
 "He came aboard and stayed aboard. He says 
 he was carried off by accident." 
 
 "Hell!" Planet fell back on his pillow. For a 
 moment there was silence while Bagshot looked at 
 
 167
 
 16S THE RED PAPER 
 
 the more than perplexed invalid, but it was the 
 Mexican who broke the silence. 
 
 "You liaf blood on your mout!" Did he 
 
 "Shut up: Xo! he didn t! Do you think I d 
 he ass enough to tackle him barehanded? It s worse 
 than that! It s you who have made the trouble! 
 He charges you with killing his father." 
 
 "Me!" 
 
 The sallow man started up in his bunk so violently 
 as to bring his head smartly against the upper berth. 
 He fell back with a groan, his face filled with 
 terror. 
 
 "Yes, you fool! You spoke to him that night. 
 He remembers you. You never told me, you cursed 
 greaser! Were you trying to hang both of us?" 
 
 "Caramba!" ejaculated the other feebly. "I ask 
 the time yes. But I know heem not! I walk away. 
 I think you will nevair come! Dios! An he remem- 
 bair!" " 
 
 "Yes, he remembers you. There is no proof 
 
 "I ll knife heem!" interrupted the Mexican. 
 Bagshot strode to the bunk and shook his fist in the 
 other s face. 
 
 " You ll keep out of sight!" he whispered. "Do 
 what you like when we get ashore." 
 
 "Then, what " 
 
 "Leave it to me. Do you suppose I ll risk any 
 work of that sort here? Where s your sand?" 
 
 "Suppose he meet with the Gra-ace?"
 
 BAGSHOT S FIRST MOVE 169 
 
 "He did meet her. He was talking with her. He 
 kissed her hand." 
 
 As though he knew the effect of his words Bag- 
 shot smiled grimly as he spoke. The Mexican forgot 
 his weakness and struggled from his bed. "He make 
 the luf to her to Gra-ace! I ll" 
 
 "You ll do nothing," said Bagshot, grasping the 
 man and forcing him back to his bunk. "You lift 
 a finger to do what I forbid, and I ll give you the 
 cold shake. Yes, by God! I ll prove that you 
 killed old Wentworth, even though you didn t. Do 
 you wish Grace to know the whole business? She 
 shall see no more of his highness, even if I have to 
 lock her up! I have enough to arrange without 
 your bothering me and putting your foot into it. 
 Shearpole will help us out if you don t make it im 
 possible!" 
 
 "You know best!" said the Mexican contritely. 
 "But I would like one more wr-r-restle with heem for 
 the throat he put on me for the insult." 
 
 "You may yet have your chance," said Bagshot, 
 "But for now keep yourself scarce. Don t show 
 yourself on deck. That s what I came here to tell 
 you." 
 
 He washed the blood from his mouth and, with 
 another warning to Planet, went out, taking his way 
 to the captain s room. 
 
 Though there was now no reason for concealing 
 himself, from prudential motives Wentworth con-
 
 170 THE RED PAPER 
 
 tinued taking his meals in his own room, and the 
 hours of his exercise on deck were confined to day 
 light. Nor did he ever pass a gloomy corner without 
 being alert against what might come from it. Of 
 Bagshot he had less fear than of the wily Mexican 
 whom he had not seen since coming on board the 
 Lone Star; however, he knew Planet was on the 
 vessel, and he rightly conjectured that if any foul 
 play was put forward the plot would be laid by Bag- 
 shot and executed by his less astute henchman. 
 
 Therefore, never for a moment did he permit his 
 sense of danger to slumber, though as time passed 
 nothing happened to justify his fears. He did not 
 confer with the purser, not deeming it advisable; 
 he could see no way for Van Buskirk to help 
 him. 
 
 The hours were monotonous, but the feeling that a 
 climax would come on the vessel s arrival at Gal- 
 veston kept Wentworth s feelings at a point well 
 above depression, though not above a measure of 
 worry. He thought it strange that his open appear 
 ance caused no comment from Captain Shearpole, 
 who had passed him twice, but with hardly a second 
 look at him, taking him, the young man thought, 
 for one who wished to be exclusive, as he had not 
 appeared at the public table. Once in the ensuing 
 three days of the voyage he saw Bagshot, but that 
 individual appeared to have his equanimity com 
 pletely restored, for he grinned broadly as he caught
 
 BAGSHOT S FIRST MOVE 171 
 
 the young man s eye, disappearing immediately 
 thereafter. 
 
 Though he waited and hoped and longed for a 
 sight of the girl, Wentworth did not see her, and in 
 consequence was troubled. For he was beginning to 
 discern the truth, and, being honest with himself, 
 had come to know that he had not taken his present 
 position entirely in vindication of his honor and in 
 the pursuit of his father s suspected murderer. 
 
 That he was in love with a girl he had seen but 
 three times seemed monstrous to him, though the 
 footing on which they stood made the conditions 
 unusual. But so it was. Aside from considerations 
 apart from the lady he knew he would follow her; 
 he would help her; beyond that he had no plan, even 
 in his secret thoughts. He desired to win her strong 
 regard; anything beyond that appeared preposterous, 
 though why it should he could not have told. 
 
 He wondered and worried, and continued to won 
 der and worry, planning nothing in detail. All he 
 had determined upon was to keep his parties in 
 sight, and the way to accomplish that seemed to 
 present no difficulties. It would be simple. When 
 they left the steamer he would follow, unless, indeed, 
 as he hoped and believed, the criminal would be met 
 by an officer of the law the moment the Lone Star 
 reached her pier. In that event the lady would need 
 his protection. 
 
 The island city of Galveston was reached just after
 
 172 THE RED PAPER 
 
 sunset, and, not greatly to Wentworth s surprise, the 
 vessel dropped anchor. He knew something of the 
 difficulties of navigation in the waters of that port, 
 and the necessity of high tide in order that a steamer 
 of the size of the Lone Star might crawl through the 
 pass of the bar and reach her berth. He was puzzled 
 by the fact that a deeply laden tramp steamer came 
 out without difficulty, but he asked no questions 
 though he could not understand the delay. He 
 thought it a trifle strange, too, that the steamer had 
 not been met and boarded by the Galveston police; 
 but for a surety no police came. 
 
 The young man was not discontented at the pros 
 pect of a few hours delay. He walked the deck 
 breathing in the balmy and delightful air of the 
 semi-tropics, soothed by its graciousness. The glit 
 tering lights of a great hotel on the sea-wall of the 
 distant city stimulated his imagination. Though 
 wealth}- he had never traveled extensively, having 
 but once gone over the treadmill of the "grand tour" 
 of Europe with no great pleasure. He was far from 
 being blase; and now he promised himself that as 
 soon as his pressing business was finished he would 
 learn more of his own country. And he figured that 
 this business would be over in the course of twenty- 
 four hours. 
 
 Should he then return to New York? He could 
 not answer that question; the haze of uncertainty 
 veiled all beyond the capture of his father s murderer
 
 BAGSHOT S FIRST MOVE 173 
 
 and the man who had robbed him of the red paper. 
 Of course he would write to Harper and explain; 
 otherwise, it made no difference to anyone where he 
 was or how long he stayed. 
 
 He was in a rather complacent frame of mind w r hen 
 he went to his room early in order to be up by day 
 light. He undressed in the dark, and had hardly 
 laid himself down when he was aroused by a knock. 
 Springing from his bunk he opened the door, and 
 it did not surprise him when Van Buskirk stepped 
 inside. That individual appeared hurried, and his 
 vioce was perturbed. 
 
 "They are going to-night," whispered the purser. 
 "Bagshot, Planet and Miss Merridale. I heard the 
 captain give an order for the quarter-boat to be 
 lowered for them at eleven o clock. Bagshot s 
 trunks are to be sent after him, but to where I don t 
 know. You see the pull he has!" 
 
 Wentworth was thunderstruck, and his hand 
 fairly shook as he lighted the cabin lamp. "The 
 cursed villain! The miserable coward ! " he exclaimed. 
 "Would Captain Shearpole interfere if I went to 
 him and told him the truth? 
 
 "No, I think not. You remember what I said 
 about their being old friends? He d pretend not to 
 believe you. He s a hot-headed specimen! Hello! 
 Is this yours?" 
 
 The purser stooped and picked up a folded paper 
 which from its position looked as if it might have
 
 174 THE RED PAPER 
 
 been thrust under the door. With a quick intuition 
 as to its nature Wentworth opened it, catching a 
 breath of the perfume with which it was scented and 
 which he now knew so well. 
 
 Have discovered we leave the steamer to-night. I 
 have been unable to see you. He hardly lets me from 
 his sight. Our first stop San Antonio, Mcngcr Hotel. 
 I -will continue with him. There is nothing else for 
 me to do. Will write when I get home. Heaven bless 
 you, my friend, for all you have done for me. 
 
 G. M. 
 
 Wentworth read and reread the note and then 
 thrust it into the purser s hand. 
 
 "Doesn t that look like a bid to follow?" he asked 
 excitedly. 
 
 "Looks more like hopelessness," said Van Bus- 
 kirk. "Bagshot is giving you the slip, and will 
 get clear! What are you going to do about it?" 
 
 "Do?" cried Wentworth, getting into his clothes 
 with record haste. "If she has given up, I haven t. 
 I m going in that boat! " 
 
 "How will you manage it? I can t help you." 
 
 "I don t know how I will manage it, son; and I 
 wouldn t tell you, if I did it might compromise 
 you. But I am going in that boat; if I fail I ve had 
 my trip for nothing Bagshot will get away! Why 
 are we lying off here instead of going up to the city?" 
 
 "I don t know. I hear something s gone wrong 
 with the machinery and in fixing it we lose the tide
 
 175 
 
 to take us through the pass. We won t berth till 
 morning." 
 
 Wentworth stared at him. He thought he saw a 
 great light. The purser went on: "The old man 
 wigged me like the devil for not reporting you. I 
 didn t dare tell him that you were a friend of mine 
 or that Bagshot had been lying to him; only that 
 you had come aboard on the last minute, paid your 
 passage, and said you were sick and wished to be 
 alone. Savvy? Don t give me away on your life, 
 or you ll ruin me." 
 
 "Don t be afraid. What time is it?" 
 
 "Not yet nine o clock." 
 
 "W T here will the boat be lowered?" 
 
 "Amidship on the port side." 
 
 "All right! Don t you get mixed up in this, Van. 
 I can t tell you how I thank you! In the morning 
 you are to know nothing about me, and 
 
 At that moment there sounded a smart knock. 
 The purser retreated behind the berth curtain. John 
 opened the door. 
 
 "I wish Mr. Wentworth," said a young officer 
 whom Wentworth had never seen. 
 
 "I am he." 
 
 "Captain Shearpole wants to see you at once, sir- 
 in his cabin." 
 
 "When? To-night?" 
 
 "At once, sir; if you please." 
 
 "Very good! Lead ahead," returned Wentworth,
 
 176 THE RED PAPER 
 
 seeing the necessity of giving the purser an opportu 
 nity to escape. That his call was in some way related 
 to Bagshot he guessed. "Perhaps," he thought 
 as he followed the quickly stepping officer, "perhaps 
 Shearpole had reviewed the facts, and not wishing 
 to become implicated in helping a criminal to escape, 
 was about to put a few questions before Bagshot 
 left the vessel. 
 
 Had Wentworth given the matter longer con 
 sideration he would have known his conclusion to 
 be false. In a moment the two entered the captain s 
 room. 
 
 Captain Shearpole was sitting at his desk when 
 Wentworth was ushered in. He turned his hard, 
 weather-beaten old face to the young man and 
 motioned the escort to retire. 
 
 "You sent for me," said John, who had an idea 
 that his chance for appeal had been forced upon 
 him. The captain s frown deepened to a scowl. 
 
 "Who are you, sir? I fail to recognize you as a 
 passenger. " 
 
 "But I am a passenger," was the serene return. 
 "My name is Wentworth." 
 
 "Oh! Your name is Wentworth, is it?" exclaimed 
 Shearpole, with a well-defined sneer in his voice, as 
 he squared himself and his eyes began to shine. 
 "You are the sneak, hey! Why did you not come 
 openly aboard my ship? Tell me that, sir." 
 
 Wentworth instantly saw the belligerent attitude
 
 BAGSHOT S FIRST MOVE 177 
 
 of the man and that there was no chance for him 
 here. He had been about to unbosom himself, but 
 the captain s tone and bearing sealed his lips, so far 
 as his errand was concerned, for the time. It was 
 not his move. 
 
 "I did not sneak aboard this vessel, sir. I came 
 openly. " 
 
 "You came openly, hey? Did you engage your 
 passage and register as others do?" 
 
 "I did not." 
 
 "You did not! And why not, sir?" 
 
 "I refuse to be catechised," returned Wentworth. 
 "I went to the purser and paid my way paid it in 
 full. There is no law 
 
 "Don t talk to me of law, young fellow," inter 
 rupted the other, hotly. "I know your kind! You 
 came aboard for the purpose of importuning and 
 pestering a lady a friend of mine, and under my 
 protection while aboard my vessel. You have 
 followed her for weeks, sir. I know you! She wishes 
 to be rid of you and your sort." 
 
 Wentworth was taken fair aback at this explosion. 
 In the turn of affairs he saw the name of Bagshot 
 written large, but he did not then lose his temper. 
 
 "You have been misinformed, Captain Shear- 
 pole," he returned. "I followed a criminal aboard 
 this steamer. I was awaiting a warrant and was 
 carried off by accident." 
 
 "You lie, sir! It was by no accident. You were
 
 178 THE RED PAPER 
 
 warned ashore my officer told me so. Do you 
 think I don t know what has been going on aboard 
 my own ship?" 
 
 "Call it intention, then, sir, but certainly not 
 premeditated. I stated I was following a criminal, 
 and felt I was about to lose him." 
 
 "Ay? A criminal? And who?" The white eye 
 brows were raised as if in wonder. 
 
 "Simeon Bagshot, Captain Shearpole. He s a 
 thief and worse." 
 
 "I dare say from your point of view. I am not 
 surprised at you! Are you an officer of the law?" 
 
 "No, sir, but " 
 
 "Damn your buts! You are a fraud a liar, sir!" 
 shouted the choleric old fellow, bringing his fist 
 down on the desk with a bang. "Your story is 
 poppycock! I know your history, and the base of 
 your insulting charge. I know all about it. Bag- 
 shot a criminal a thief! I have known him for 
 thirty years!" 
 
 Wentworth was outraged, and his blood leaped 
 to the boiling-point in an instant. 
 
 "Then I have learned him better in thirty hours!" 
 he retorted with heat. "You have twice called me 
 a liar without provocation you shall answer for 
 that. You also say that Miss Merridale complains 
 of my importunity that I have followed her for 
 weeks. I have known her for less than nine days. 
 I say you speak a falsehood. Does this look like
 
 BAGSHOT S FIRST MOVE 179 
 
 the result of importunity? Read this and be 
 fair." 
 
 He pulled out the note he had just received and 
 held it toward the captain. 
 
 "Curse you and your letters!" returned the old 
 man, purple with rage, as with one hand he ham 
 mered on the gong on his desk and with the other 
 waved off the proffered paper. He had been defied 
 on board his own ship; he had been told that he 
 lied; having called another a liar did not excuse this 
 Use majeste. He would show this upstart landsman 
 what it meant to combat a sea-captain on his own 
 vessel. 
 
 Before Wentworth could say more the call of the 
 bell was answered by a man in the dress of a sailor, 
 though that he was a petty official, or sub-officer 
 of some kind, was indicated by the design on his 
 sleeve. Shearpole pointed at Wentworth, and his 
 washed-out blue eyes were blazing as he shouted: 
 "Take that fellow out of here. Take him to his 
 stateroom and see that he doesn t leave it without 
 a guard." Then turning to his victim he said: 
 "You ll not put foot on shore, sir, until we get back 
 to New York. I ll show you, sir! I ll teach you 
 to talk back to me. You need a trimming, and 
 you ll get it." 
 
 Wentworth almost smiled as he saw how the man 
 had let his anger blind him to the law; but he drew 
 himself up and squarely faced the enraged official.
 
 180 THE RED PAPER 
 
 "Captain Shcarpole," he said, "I demand a boat 
 in order to leave this vessel. You give the privilege 
 to others; it is mine as well. It is my right. You 
 cannot hold me a prisoner; and you cannot return 
 me to New York without it costing your company 
 more than it would care to pay, and costing you your 
 position. I think the latter will occur in any event." 
 
 Shearpole bounded to his feet. 
 
 "Do ye dare face me down! Off with ye, before 
 I order ye ironed!" 
 
 The man who had come in touched John on the 
 shoulder. 
 
 "Better come along. It will cost ye less in the 
 end." 
 
 Wentworth was boiling, but he turned and left 
 the cabin, afraid to remain lest he lose complete 
 control of himself. He was more angry than he had 
 ever been in his life, not alone because he had been 
 thwarted, but because he hated injustice. That the 
 captain was entrenched behind the law which made 
 him king on his own vessel, he knew well enough, 
 and that there was no immediate appeal from Shear- 
 pole s order made him the more desperate. 
 
 But whatever else had been accomplished he had 
 not been tamed. When he reached his own room, 
 his cheeks tingling from excitement, he found the 
 sailor close behind him. "What are you going to 
 do?" he asked. 
 
 "Coin to obey orders," was the uncompromising
 
 BAGSHOT S FIRST MOVE 181 
 
 return. "Advise you not to cut up rough. Won t 
 do the the least good. Perhaps in the mornin the 
 old man ll feel different, but he s pretty mad now." 
 
 " Suppose I refuse to go into my room?" 
 
 "Then I ll call help to put ye there. Can t say I 
 wants to handle you alone! Better take it easy, sir. 
 Less harm will come of it." 
 
 With a glance Wentworth sized up the man. 
 Undoubtedly he could handle him if it came to a 
 fight, but there seemed little to be gained in that 
 save to make another enemy. He turned and entered 
 his room, barely crossing the threshold when the door 
 was closed and the key turned in the lock. He 
 looked behind the curtains. Van Buskirk was gone, 
 asfhe had hoped and expected. 
 
 And he had told the purser that he was going in 
 the boat. It looked to be a vain boast now. He 
 sat on the edge of his bunk and tried to calm himself, 
 though every now and then his wrath blazed up 
 against the high-handed proceedings of Captain 
 Shearpole. He determined that once back in New 
 York he would bring that individual to book for 
 the outrage put upon him, even if it took every 
 dollar he possessed. Angry men are apt to build 
 the Castle of Revenge high and without regard to 
 cost; but Wentworth meant it, though he did not 
 dream how far Shearpole s act would sink into 
 insignificance in the future. 
 
 But just then it was a dominating influence. To
 
 182 THE RED PAPER 
 
 Wentworth it was now clear that his detention in 
 his cabin was a prearranged plan to prevent his 
 being on deck and protesting when Bagshot went 
 ashore. Justice had not entered into the matter 
 and the animus was plain: Bagshot was afraid of 
 him and had enlisted the captain in his behalf, the 
 latter trumping up a lame excuse to hold him; doubt 
 less he would be freed as soon as the boat left the 
 ship. 
 
 But then it would be too late! Was there no way 
 out? There must be! A fire must be met with fire 
 when all other modes of protection are gone. Went 
 worth sat himself down to dispassionate thought. 
 
 And presently he hit upon an idea of escape an 
 escape which might allow him to carry out his original 
 intention, though he rather quailed at the necessity 
 it involved. It came to him like a flash; it would 
 be his only and last chance. If Bagshot went ashore 
 without him he might as well throw up his hands, 
 and John Wentworth, for all his debonair nature, 
 was not one to admit defeat until it was unques 
 tionable. 
 
 He looked at his watch. It was but a few minutes 
 after nine o clock, and he had loads of time to spare 
 for his purpose; the boat would not go until eleven. 
 He set about making his preparations silently, and, 
 when these were completed, calmly lay down in his 
 bunk. 
 
 At quarter past ten he got up, relighted his lamp,
 
 BAGSHOT S FIRST MOVE 183 
 
 and began furthering his plan by knocking on the 
 locked door. The immediate answer from the man 
 outside showed that the guard s vigilence had not 
 relaxed. "What do you want, sir," was the re 
 spectful inquiry. 
 
 "I wish something to drink. It is hell in here! 
 Get anything you can." 
 
 "Can t think of it, sir." 
 
 "Why not? Am I ordered to be famished? I ll 
 pay you well." 
 
 "An you wont break out if I go for ye?" 
 
 "What would be the use?" returned Wentworth. 
 "No, I wont break out, nor try to. I ll swear to be 
 here when you come back. Unlock the door and 
 I ll give you the money." 
 
 The man outside mumbled, but the temptation 
 was too great. The door was unlocked and through 
 the little opening made a bill was passed out; then 
 the door was locked again. Wentworth s pulse 
 began to rise as he heard the man go down the pas 
 sage; he breathed a sigh of relief; he had feared 
 absolute refusal. 
 
 Presently the guard appeared, bringing with him a 
 bottle of champagne and a glass on a tray. He 
 entered, locking the door after him but leaving the 
 key in its place, then he set the tray on the locker. 
 
 "Glad to see you be calmin down, sir," he said. 
 "I make no doubt that the old man will let up on 
 you after a night s sleep."
 
 184 THE RED PAPER 
 
 "Like as not," returned Wentworth. His parole 
 was over; he might have run out then, and with 
 honor, but the hue and cry which would arise after 
 him made such a proceeding foolhardy. "Keep the 
 change, my lad," he said to the man, who was finger 
 ing a handful of silver. "I find you a chap who 
 obeys orders obeys them strictly. One cannot 
 be blamed for looking after their own interests, 
 can they?" 
 
 "Xo, sir. That s what! Now I couldn t ha 
 blamed you if you had cut up rough." 
 
 "I m glad to hear you say that," said the young 
 man, taking a deep breath. "Pull that cork for me, 
 will you? And you will join me?" 
 
 "Sure, sir!" said the man, with alacrity taking 
 up the bottle. 
 
 "And I kept my promise to you, you see! I am 
 here?" 
 
 "Thank you, sir. Yes, sir." 
 
 "Well, I am going now. Good-night." 
 
 He stepped toward the door. As he made the 
 latter move, the guard, his hands trammeled by the 
 bottle, sprang for him, but as this was just what 
 the young man looked for, he was prepared. Turn 
 ing in time to meet him, he landed a straight shoulder 
 blow squarely between the man s eyes, and the 
 fellow went down without a sound. 
 
 Then Wentworth hurried. Locking the door, he 
 made a gag of a towel and stuffed into the mouth of
 
 BAGSHOT S FIRST MOVE 185 
 
 the fallen man, binding it in place with another 
 towel. He quickly followed this up by tying his 
 victim s hands and feet with the sheet he had torn 
 in strips, and being sure the sailor was secure, he 
 walked out of the room, locking the door behind him 
 and putting the key in his pocket. In a moment 
 he was on deck concealed by a deep shadow.
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 CHECK 
 
 VERYTHING was very quiet. Two or three 
 passengers were seated in their chairs enjoy 
 ing the warm air, the rest being below gath 
 ering their belongings to be prepared for an early 
 landing in the morning. Wentworth made his way 
 amidships and took station on the starboard side of 
 the vessel, but well out of sight of the casual passer. 
 Forward the anchor-light glowed, repeated on 
 every hand from the ships about the Lone Star, but 
 the anchor- watch was the only figure he could see, 
 the man moving across the steamer on his walk on 
 the elevated forecastle. From his point of vantage 
 Wentworth marked that the side-steps had been 
 shipped into place. He had not waited long when 
 some sailors, directed by an officer, lowered the 
 quarter-boat, which was taken to the steps, and 
 two men came up from her, disappearing forward. 
 He waited until they had gone, then lounged care 
 lessly to the side and looked over. He had hoped to 
 
 find the boat empty, but saw that in it was a negro 
 
 186
 
 CHECK 187 
 
 sailor holding it off from the steamer s side with a 
 boat-hook. He must take some risk; here was his 
 best chance. Going easily down the steps he ac 
 costed the negro, speaking low. 
 
 "This is the boat that is to take a party ashore, 
 I believe." 
 
 "Yaas, sah." 
 
 "Well, I wish to go in her." 
 
 "I dunno, sah; I ll" 
 
 "Hush! There s a lady going?" 
 
 "Yaas, sah, an two gemmen. " 
 
 "That s right. Here, take this. It s the lady 
 you understand?" 
 
 The negro hesitated as he felt the crispness of the 
 bill John thrust into his hand. Then he chuckled, 
 his teeth showing white in the starlight. 
 
 "Guess I kin fix it, sah! Thankee, sah! Yo 
 jes lie low forward an nobody won t see you. I s 
 de bowman, sah. Hurry, sah; here comes de crew! 
 I fix it. Wish yo luck, sah." 
 
 Wentworth scrambled forward over the thwarts, 
 whisking off his hat that it might not make him 
 conspicuous, and crouched close to the stem of the 
 commodious craft. Four men came down the steps; 
 for a moment the negro whispered to them, then they 
 took their places, laughing among themselves. A 
 few moments later an officer followed; after that was 
 a wait. 
 
 The passing time seemed hours. Wentworth s
 
 188 THE RED PAPER 
 
 undignified position was bearing hard on him, and 
 he recognized how foolish he had been in exposing 
 his hand to Bagshot. If he were discovered now 
 he had little doubt that more than his dignity would 
 suffer; the man in his cabin would be found, and 
 that would mean irons, and with some show of 
 justice. Why had he not bettered his chances by 
 pretending to fall in with Bagshot s wishes as ex 
 pressed in his last interview? Why had he not 
 compromised and bided his time? 
 
 The sea heaved softly. The gulf-wind had fallen 
 to less than a breath. A mile away lay the city 
 seemingly afloat on the water. Presently there was 
 the sound of footsteps clearly heard through the 
 otherwise absolute silence, and then the light rustle 
 of a skirt. A few words were spoken, then came 
 footfalls on the stairs and the frail craft tipped as 
 the passengers came aboard. Then there was a 
 rattling of falling oars, an order, a swish of water 
 and the boat left the steamer s side. As it got under 
 way plainly came a voice from the deck: 
 
 "Good-night and good luck." It was the voice 
 of Captain Shearpole. 
 
 Undoubtedly the negro bowman had explained 
 the situation to his fellows, but there was no evidence 
 that the stowaway s presence was known as the 
 boat moved rapidly shoreward. When it was well 
 away from the vessel the prostrate man, half under 
 the forward thwart, breathed freely. He now had
 
 CHECK 189 
 
 little fear for the future, and he even raised his head 
 that he might look aft under the arms of the swaying 
 crew. Among the passengers not a word was spoken 
 until the loaded boat had rounded the end of the 
 city and was in the bayou behind it. Then it was 
 that Wentworth heard Bagshot s voice as he spoke 
 to the officer in command. 
 
 "Our train does not go until one-thirty, Mr. 
 Pierce. It is now about half past eleven. If you 
 are not pressed for time, come up to the hotel with 
 us. I will show you I appreciate the trouble you 
 have taken." 
 
 "Don t mention the trouble, sir." 
 
 "But I feel it; we all feel it! Did er did the 
 captain tell you what he did with that impudent 
 party?" 
 
 "Has him under lock and key, I understand. He 
 narrowly escaped being ironed. " 
 
 "Ah! Tamed him, hey?" 
 
 "I believe so. I heard little. Who is he? What 
 did he do?" 
 
 "Excuse me, sir; but it is a delicate subject to 
 mention before a lady. I will tell you later. You 
 will come with us?" 
 
 "Thanks. I don t mind for half an hour." 
 
 A moment after the boat swept to the landing 
 stage with its steps leading to the level above. It 
 took but a few minutes for the passengers to disem 
 bark, the officer following after telling his men to
 
 190 THE RED PAPER 
 
 await his return. As the party got well away the 
 negro turned and touched Wentworth, who had 
 curled into the smallest compass possible for one 
 of his figure. 
 
 "Now s yo chance, sah! Coast all clear! Slick as a 
 whistle, that was! I d resk it fo a gal any time!" 
 
 He laughed openly, his ivories gleaming. Went 
 worth slipped another bill into the man s hand. 
 "Many thanks to you. Divide that among the rest," 
 he said, and jumping across the float he ran up the 
 steps. 
 
 But the steps were slippery, and in his haste he 
 missed his footing, barely escaping a fall, his coat 
 catching on the staple of an unseen mooring-ring 
 driven into the sea-wall. Recovering himself he 
 tore loose his coat and ran up in time to see the ob 
 jects of his chase going across the broad esplanade. 
 
 In the comparative desertion of the shipping-front 
 it was easy to keep the party in sight, and he fol 
 lowed them among the piles of recently discharged 
 cargoes, and past the now gloomy warehouses, until 
 they came to the hotel and entered. 
 
 But Wentworth did not go in after them. He 
 passed on, inquiring his way to the depot. It was 
 not a long walk. At that hour the waiting-room 
 was empty and the ticket window closed, but a 
 time-table on the wall showed him there was a train 
 bound west at one-thirty. He was satisfied, though 
 he hardly knew, why, except that he now had time
 
 CHECK 191 
 
 to do what he wished; and pushing straight to his 
 object he at once hunted up the police head 
 quarters. 
 
 The man dozing at his desk in the palace of justice 
 opened wide his eves as he took in the character 
 of his visitor, and in answer to the question if a 
 telegram relating to the arrest of a criminal from 
 New York had been received, replied that he thought 
 not he would look up the record. It took him 
 some time to do this, with the result that he dis 
 covered that no requisition for the arrest of anyone 
 for any crime had been sent from New York. 
 
 "Not within a week?" asked Wentworth, a feel 
 ing of total defeat stealing over him. 
 
 "Not within two months, sir. The crooks give 
 us a wide berth, now-a-days. What s the trouble?" 
 
 "And you would make no arrest on my affi 
 davit"? 
 
 "Crime committed here?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 "Then not without a warrant, sir or unless you 
 are an officer. Don t you see how people with a 
 petty spite might make an instrument of the police, 
 if that were possible? I wil! do all I can for }ou 
 but you had better take your case before a jud-e 
 to-morrow, or go to the district attorney." 
 
 "It will then be too late." 
 
 "Is it. a personal matter with you? that, is, havr 
 you had trouble with the er so-called criminal?"
 
 192 THE RED PAPER 
 
 The official shook his shoulders. "I reckon I 
 can see through a ladder. No, Mister, I don t find 
 I can act. Good-night, sir." 
 
 The man picked up a newspaper and settled him 
 self to read. Wentworth turned away more in self- 
 disgust than in anger. There would be but little 
 use in explaining the situation; he knew that no 
 steps could be taken on his bare word. He had 
 a weak case. He had depended upon Bunsen, 
 and Bunsen had gone back on him. He must 
 either think of something else, or throw up his 
 hands. 
 
 And it did not take him long to decide what he 
 would do. The magnet of desire pulled him strongly. 
 He would follow the girl for her own sake, hoping 
 to see her, to get one more word with her, at least 
 to let her know of his escape and that he would 
 be within call if help were needed. He was up to 
 his neck now; he would plunge in beyond his depth 
 and see what came of it. In short, Wentworth 
 made up his mind to follow the party to San Antonio; 
 from there he would write to Harper, and tele 
 graph for money as his finances would be too low 
 to permit of his traveling further even too low to 
 allow his return to New York. He settled this much 
 in his walk back to the depot, and again there he 
 took his station outside and at a point from which 
 he could see anyone who entered,
 
 CHECK 193 
 
 He had not long to wait. He saw the trio drive 
 up in a public hack, and saw Bagshot buy the tickets. 
 There was now a sprinkling of waiting passengers 
 but no great throng. The girl and Planet stood 
 on the platform until Bagshot joined them. Went- 
 worth watched the three as they started to go aboard 
 the newly made up train lying on the main track, 
 its locomotive sending a plume of steam far up into 
 the windless air. Then he entered the station by 
 a rear door and went up to the ticket window. 
 
 "To San Antonio," he said. "Can I get a 
 sleeper?" 
 
 "Obtain sleeping accommodations on the train, 
 sir. There s loads of room," was the answer, as the 
 tickets were pushed out. "Seven fifty, sir." 
 
 Wentworth put his hand in his breast pocket but 
 drew it out as if stung. His wallet was gone. In his 
 bewilderment he went over his clothing in the wild 
 way one does under like circumstances, only to dis 
 cover that he had not misplaced it. 
 
 For a moment he thought he had been robbed, then 
 quickly recollected that he had been near no one 
 who would rob him since he had the wallet in his hand 
 when he bribed the negro to let him enter the boat. 
 But there was the fact; his wallet, with over two 
 hundred dollars in it, was gone. The agent looked 
 at him sharply. 
 
 "What s the matter?" 
 
 "I have lost or misplaced my pocketbook/ said
 
 194 THE RED PAPER 
 
 John, gathering his wits. "I m afraid I ll have to 
 wait until to-morrow." 
 
 It was a tcrriffic blow. He turned from the win 
 dow, his heart thumping as he realized that his plans 
 had received a stunning reversal; moreover, that 
 he was two thousand miles from home, a stranger 
 in a strange land, dead broke, and that the man he 
 hated and the girl he loved were even then beyond 
 his reach. 
 
 At that moment the cry of "All aboard!" sounded 
 from without. Something like desperation seized 
 Wentworth. At all events his next act was without 
 thought. Running from the depot he caught sight 
 of Miss Merridale entering a car, Bagshot and Planet 
 being close behind her, both carrying valises. Dash 
 ing past the guard at the gate he ran to the forward 
 end of the car and jumped aboard, entering and walk 
 ing down the passage just as the party he dogged 
 were taking seats in the almost empty Pullman. 
 
 At that moment the train began to move 
 
 It was plain that neither Miss Merridale nor 
 Planet took any notice of the hurrying man, the 
 latter being engaged in storing baggage while the 
 former was adjusting her hat at a narrow mirror 
 between the windows. But Bagshot saw him. With 
 something like an exclamation the man dropped the 
 bag he \vas carrying and sank into the nearest chair, 
 his eyes opening in mingled wonder and horror. 
 He had thought of his persecutor as safely under
 
 CHECK 195 
 
 lock and key aboard the Lone Star, yet here he was 
 in the flesh if he was flesh. His mental attitude 
 was too plain to be misread. 
 
 When Wentworth boarded the train he had but 
 a hazy idea of speaking a word to the girl and hurling 
 defiance at her uncle, but as he saw the effect his 
 mere presence had created on the latter, and realized 
 the train was drawing from the station, he changed 
 his tactics. There was no time for words. With 
 out halting he raised his hand and pointed a menacing 
 finger at the fairly frightened Bagshot, but he did 
 not speak to him; the train was gathering speed. 
 He passed on, reaching the rear platform as the 
 negro porter was closing the vestibule, and catching 
 the man by the arm, he dragged him around, pulled 
 open the door, and swung himself to the ground. 
 Then he stood and looked at the lights of the receding 
 train. 
 
 "I think I lied to Thomas," he muttered. "I 
 told him I had Bagshot s goat, though it now seems 
 that he has mine; but if that man don t believe in 
 spirits now, he never will." 
 
 A slow smile grew on his face as he recalled the 
 look of abject terror on his enemy s countenance, 
 then the smile died. He came back to the present 
 and began to take thought of his immediate necessities. 
 
 He now went systematically through his pockets, 
 without finding the missing wallet. He did find 
 some small bills he had thrust into his vest-pocket,
 
 196 THE RED PAPER 
 
 together with some loose change, but the whole 
 would not have paid his fare to San Antonio; the 
 amount was exactly six dollars and eighty cents 
 a small capital for one so far from home. He had 
 not even a check-book with him. 
 
 Suddenly he remembered catching his coat on 
 something as he came ashore. Undoubtedly the 
 loss had occurred at that time his wallet had been 
 jerked from his pocket and lay on the steps if it had 
 not fallen into the sea. He hurried to the landing 
 on the jetty. The Lone Stars quarter-boat had 
 returned to the ship, and save for the watchmen 
 hovering around the piled cargoes, there appeared 
 to be no one about. Once he was questioned by an 
 inquisitive policeman to whom he openly told the 
 story of his loss and who helped him in his search. 
 But the search was fruitless. 
 
 The new difficulty of a lack of cash he faced as 
 became a man of his caste. Going to the hotel 
 which he had seen Bagshot enter, he asked for a 
 room for the night, paying for it from his small 
 fund; then he went to bed. But not to sleep; his 
 brain was too busy for that, his disappointment too 
 keen. For he saw he must give up his chase. It 
 was hopeless. Circumstances had been against him 
 from the first, and this culminating disaster settled 
 it. Bagshot was lost for good, or, if he was captured 
 at all, it must be in the indefinite future; and he 
 was a man, who, given time to provide against con-
 
 CHECK 197 
 
 tingencies, would make his capture hard if not im 
 possible. 
 
 And the girl? It was true that she had promised 
 to write to him. But where? To New York, of 
 course; with her uncle s latest move she must have 
 given up expecting further active service from him. 
 As for the detective, sober thought convinced Went- 
 worth that he could not have been faithless; there 
 must have been some hitch in the law; perhaps 
 his own testimony had been demanded. Of the 
 real trouble the wakeful young man did not even 
 guess; he only knew that his every plan had mis 
 carried. 
 
 These were bitter thoughts for Wentworth, who 
 had hoped to satisfy justice, vengeance and love. 
 In the morning he went to the nearest telegraph 
 office and sent a message to Harper. It was all 
 there was to do. 
 
 Paper stolen. Chased him Gaheston. Lost him. 
 Broke. Wire money. Gaheston Hotel. Jack. 
 
 The message sent, he determined to throw him 
 self on the mercy of the hotel proprietor, and that 
 failing, borrow enough of Van Buskirk to tide him 
 over. But on hearing the story of his loss the pro 
 prietor took him to his heart at once. He was a 
 reader of character, he said, and knew a gentleman 
 when he saw one. Wentworth might live at the 
 "Galveston" a week or a month or longer; he
 
 198 THE RED PAPER 
 
 was not to worry on the score of deferred pay 
 ment. 
 
 It was the New Yorker s first bit of luck. With 
 a lightened heart though not a joyous one he left 
 the proprietor s presence, not knowing that the tide 
 of misfortune had ebbed to its lowest and had now 
 turned in his favor. But he did not see into the 
 future which was well for him.
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 DEPUTY SHERIFF HARPER 
 
 IT was twenty- four hours before Wentworth 
 received an answer to his message. He had 
 called twice at the office with negative results, 
 but on the third time a telegram was awaiting him. 
 It caused him to be mildly elated, at the same time 
 made him wonder what had happened. 
 
 Have sent two hundred by wire. Stay where you 
 are. Am coming. Have news. 
 
 Harper. 
 
 There was some delay before the office could furnish 
 him with the money, but with that in his pocket he 
 felt more independent. But what did Harper mean? 
 It was four days before he found out. And in those 
 four days he made himself acquainted with the low- 
 lying city, and walked for hours along its miles of 
 fawn-colored and perfect beach. Once he had the 
 pleasure of meeting Captain Shearpole on the street, 
 and he laughed in that gentleman s face, well knowing 
 that he would not be held accountable for the assault 
 made on the sailor; he knew as well as he knew 
 
 199
 
 200 THE RED PAPER 
 
 anything that the captain had gone far beyond his 
 authority. And Shearpole only scowled as he saw 
 the young man. 
 
 At length Harper arrived, hot and dirty but full 
 of a contageous enthusiasm. After a characteristic 
 greeting the two went at once into executive session 
 in Wentworth s room. Up to that time Harper had 
 been exasperatingly non-committal. 
 
 "And now tell me where they have gone," were 
 his first words, as he threw himself into a chair and 
 lighted a cigar, ignoring the grime of travel still 
 upon him. 
 
 " To San Antonio. They stop at the Menger 
 Hotel, the lady says, and I have reason to think she 
 tells the truth. Don t you care to hear all that has 
 happened to me?" 
 
 "No, not yet for I know something of it. I will 
 unload first, then it will be your turn. They ve gone 
 to San Antonio, have they! Well, Bagshot has 
 walked into the trap! Now listen. For three or 
 four days we were wild at your disappearance. 
 Thomas told me of the condition of things at the 
 studio, and I guessed a whole heap only I was 
 about to look for your body, as I was mortally afraid 
 of foul play I have feared it all along. 
 
 "When I found you had been to the bank I began 
 to have hopes. On the fifth day Thomas came to 
 me with a chap named Bunsen, who had his head 
 bandaged up. Bunsen told me what had happened
 
 DEPUTY SHERIFF HARPER 20J 
 
 and was sure you were on the steamer. He had 
 met with an accident just after he left you; he was 
 knocked completely out, and all his plans went 
 askew. But he had the good sense to hunt up 
 Thomas, who had wit enough to turn him over to 
 me. Good man, that Bunsen! Together we went 
 to work, the detective doing all of his share, and we 
 have kept the thing out of the papers. But it wasn t 
 such an easy thing to get a warrant, you being away. 
 Your telegram helped some; we got it finally, and 
 through the pull exercised by our broken-headed 
 friend I got something for myself. My son, I am 
 now sworn in as a deputy sheriff of the County of 
 New York. It took much persuasion and a little 
 of the rhyno, but I had laid my plans. Take off 
 your hat to me, you ordinary, no-account citizen! 
 I have the necessary papers with which to rope our 
 Christian slugger, for without them we might go 
 lame early in the race." 
 
 Wentworth looked at his friend in amazement. 
 "What was your crazy idea of becoming a deputy 
 sheriff?" he asked. 
 
 "My crazy idea! To catch the fellow, of course! 
 We can t touch Planet, he being out of the State. 
 That is, we cannot take him for unproved robbery, 
 but we can hold him as a suspect in in the other 
 thing! Here are my plans: 
 
 "I have a letter to one Thorp, Sheriff of Bexar 
 County a chap afraid of nothing a character
 
 202 THE RED PAPER 
 
 something on the order of Bunsen. He has been 
 a miner and a cowboy, and is an all-round plainsman, 
 but that is nothing to the purpose. It is my notion 
 that Bagshot intends to drop Miss Merridale some 
 where, make a bee-line for the mines, stake them out. 
 register the claim and then skip into Mexico and 
 wait a spell, unless in the meantime the girl steals 
 the paper. But we mustn t depend upon her. 
 
 "The first thing is to lay hands on Thorp. I 
 can t act in Texas without a Texas officer! We get 
 out to-night for San Antonio. But let me tell you," 
 said Harper, his face becoming set and serious, "I 
 am in this thing to the hilt even if it means blood. 
 Are you with me?" 
 
 Wentworth looked astonished at the question. 
 "What on earth do you suppose I am here for? 
 To be frightened at a possible fight? Go as far as 
 you like, and I ll follow w r hen I can t lead." 
 
 "Not that I doubted you," said Harper, holding 
 out a dirty hand. "It was a perfunctory question 
 born of the jig- water we have imbibed. We will 
 catch Bagshot ct al. if w r e have to follow them across 
 the continent. Now you have my plan in the raw. 
 Let s hear your yarn." 
 
 Wentworth made a full story of his trip, omitting 
 nothing. When he had finished Harper whistled. 
 
 "I m sorry you showed vourself on the train. He 
 will think you arc still following him and be on 
 guard. Let me see the girl s note."
 
 DEPUTY SHERIFF HARPER 203 
 
 The note was produced. Harper read it, and 
 lifted his eyebrows as he smiled and drooped one 
 eyelid. 
 
 "Early for congratulations, isn t it?" 
 
 "What do you mean, you idiot?" returned Went- 
 worth, feeling his color rise. 
 
 "Oh, nothing! Only when we meet up with her 
 don t ask me to play gooseberry. It isn t my role. 
 On your honor, old man, isn t the blind Cupid mark 
 ing a broad trail for you? Hasn t that bump gone 
 from your head to your heart? Own up." 
 
 "Will you kindly try to talk as if you were sane 
 and incidentally, mind your own business?" was the 
 retort. 
 
 "To be sure! And do you think, my poor, addle- 
 pated benedick, that I m not doing both? I m a 
 trifle selfish myself. That mine attracts me im 
 mensely, else I don t know as I would have come so 
 far. With your influence in a certain quarter I might 
 get an interest in it. I will guarantee to form a 
 syndicate and give Miss Merridale two million for 
 a controlling share, if she is willing to sell. See my 
 lay? Nothing like having a friend at court." 
 
 "Quit your rot and talk sense," returned Went- 
 worth, his face glowing. 
 
 "All right. First I ll wash, then we ll dine. After 
 that we ll take a look at this town. Then we ll take 
 a certain train for a certain city where you will see 
 a certain lady, and
 
 204 THE RED PAPER 
 
 Wentworth threw a pillow at him. The big fellow 
 kissed his hand airily and ran, laughing, to his room. 
 
 San Antonio lay hot and still under a sky like 
 Italy s when Wentworth and Harper stepped from 
 the train the next afternoon. As a means of precau 
 tion the two searched the pretty, red railroad station 
 in order to be sure they were not being looked for. 
 Then they parted. 
 
 It had been arranged that the big man, being 
 unknown to any of the Bagshot part}-, should go 
 straight and openly to the Menger Hotel where he 
 wou .d be in touch with the men he was after. Went 
 worth w r ould be less obtrusive by taking quarters 
 in one of the less prominent hostleries. 
 
 After becoming sure that Bagshot was still in 
 San Antonio the new deputy would hunt up the 
 sheriff of Bexar County, tell his story, show his 
 credentials, and trusted to have the criminals in 
 custody that night. As soon as matters were in 
 running order he would report to Wentworth, who 
 was advised to keep himself from the public eye as 
 much as possible. 
 
 And had that gentleman obeyed instructions all 
 might have gone as intended; but he had no sooner 
 stepped from the automobile that took him from 
 the station to the Angelus Hotel than he became 
 nervous and restless. His room seemed but a suffo 
 cating box to him though it was airy and comfortable, 
 and after putting himself in order he ignored the
 
 DEPUTY SHERIFF HARPER 205 
 
 risk of being seen by either of his enemies, and in 
 spite of Harper s warning to keep off the streets, 
 sallied out to get the air his lungs seemed to demand. 
 He figured that there was not one chance in ten 
 thousand of running upon either Planet or Bagshot. 
 
 He had not thought to walk toward the center 
 of the city but he soon lost sense of direction. In 
 his path the ancient and modern appeared to be on 
 equal footing. The town, like a young giant, was 
 shaking off the slumber of old ways though not yet 
 fully awake to the new. The seventeenth century 
 here rubbed shoulders with the twentieth; the man 
 tilla of the seriorita. the peaked and silver-trimmed 
 hat of the traditional Mexican, the broad felt of 
 the avowed plainsman, the flowery creation of the 
 modern milliner, and the somber " Derby " of the 
 pushing generation, were all in evidence. The 
 spurred rider in his Mexican saddle trotted in the 
 wake of the automobile, and up-to-date architecture 
 threw its shadow over low, adobe structures. It 
 was a scene of contrasts the mixture of two or 
 three centuries, and it was both attractive and 
 bewildering to Wentworth. 
 
 He walked on, interested in all he saw, and had 
 gone what he thought was but a short distance from 
 his hotel when he came to a park-like opening, and 
 then he recognized his whereabouts. He was stand 
 ing on the edge of the Piaza of the Alamo, and he 
 knew he had no business there.
 
 206 THE RED PAPER 
 
 For in front of him were the tree-embowered 
 grounds of the Menger Hotel, while to the south 
 stood the venerable, historic and dilapidated convent 
 which gave the plaza its name. The appearance of 
 the Alamo was perfectly familiar to Wentworth, 
 who, in his callow, geography days, had looked at 
 the picture of the " Cradle of Texas Independence " 
 and read its tragic history. 
 
 There was no mistaking it; and it gave him a sense 
 of satisfaction to know the ruin was being cared 
 for, as indicated by the soldier patrolling in front 
 of its wide doors. Only a few years before the trim 
 park had been but a shadeless, sun-baked opening, 
 and the Alamo a store-house for hay; now modern 
 ideas have prevailed, and the row of buildings oppo 
 site the hotel faces upon a wealth of tropical suc 
 culence. 
 
 Though modernized in appearance to Wentworth 
 there hung over the whole city an atmosphere of 
 shiftlessness a veritable air of yesterday but never 
 of to-day. It showed in the listlessness of those 
 moving on the streets, in the lack of bustle to which 
 he was used, to the quiet, for which he was grateful. 
 
 Though now aware that he was on forbidden 
 ground the young man was in a very pleasant frame 
 of mind. What did it matter? He could not be 
 seen from the hotel across the park; the trees were 
 too thick. And he had a world of faith in Harper, 
 only regretting that necessity compelled him to
 
 DEPUTY SHERIFF HARPER 207 
 
 keep away from active participation in Bagshot s 
 capture. 
 
 At that moment his thoughts were turned to the 
 girl whose face attracted him as the lode-star attracts 
 the needle; and he had just taken off his hat, and 
 was fanning himself with it, when he saw her emerge 
 from among the trees in front of the hotel, and with 
 her head down as if in dejection or deep thought, 
 walk slowly in the direction of the Alamo. He 
 watched her with an intensity of which he was not 
 aware, until she entered the dark portal, the patrol 
 ling sentinel apparently taking no notice of her, 
 and then, in spite of all reason, Wentworth deter 
 mined to follow her and meet her face to face, to 
 hear her voice, perhaps to take her hand. Up to 
 that moment he had not fully realized his mental 
 attitude toward the girl, but he did then; he knew 
 now, and was hardly surprised, and with the awak 
 ening knowledge he threw discretion to the wind. 
 
 And yet, not altogether the last. He had sense 
 enough not to attempt to cross the plaza where he 
 might be seen from a dozen points; he was too cau 
 tious for that. Turning his back on the park, he 
 skirted it by a side street, coming to it again on its 
 lower end, and, hurrying along, he approached and 
 entered the old and bullet-scarred building. 
 
 There was no one who prevented. A man with a 
 badge pinned to his flannel shirt, a supplement to 
 the soldier outside, lounged sleepily just inside the
 
 208 THE RED PAPER 
 
 entrance, smoking a cigarette, but neither lifted a 
 finger in question to his entry. A peculiar feeling 
 took possession of the young man as he found him 
 self encompassed by the historic old walls; it was as 
 if the climax of the nearly century old conflict had 
 something to do with himself; that here was to be a 
 climax for him a climax of his hope; of fear he had 
 none. 
 
 The interior was gloomy, and Wentworth soon 
 discovered that the lady had not lingered on the 
 ground floor. He made no inquiries, but seeing a 
 flight of steps against the adobe wall, he went up. 
 As he passed from behind two large packing boxes 
 and advanced into the long room on the second 
 floor he saw the object of his coming standing at 
 the sashless window gazing out on the plaza. With 
 a quick eye the young man took in the bullet-marked 
 walls of the apartment and the chipped rafters over 
 head. Here the storm of war had raged at its height, 
 for he was in the room in which David Crockett had 
 died. 
 
 Wentworth thought to take the girl by surprise, 
 but as she heard his step on the hollow floor she 
 turned and came toward him, holding out her hand. 
 
 I felt that you would come." she said, smiling 
 a welcome, though her face showed a lack of its usual 
 vivacity. 
 
 Then you knew I was in the city? 
 
 Not until a few moments ago. But I knew you
 
 DEPUTY SHERIFF HARPER 209 
 
 had escaped from the steamer for Mr. Bagshot told 
 me he saw your ghost on the train before we left 
 Galveston; and he was much upset." She laughed 
 a tired laugh. "I felt it was no ghost, knowing your 
 ability to appear unexpectedly and I knew you 
 would follow." 
 
 "And you saw me?" 
 
 "I was sitting under the trees. Yes, I saw you 
 standing over the way." Her face was rosy, but 
 withal bore a troubled look. "I cannot stay long," 
 she continued. "Far from being deserted, as I 
 once feared I might be, I am closely watched. He 
 suspects I know something suspects I have com 
 municated with you." 
 
 "Where is he?" asked the young man, continuing 
 to hold the slender fingers in his grasp. 
 
 "I don t know. Away somewhere, for the day. 
 He is away every day, coming back in the evening. 
 He is ready to move on the instant; he is frightened 
 and desperate. Quite changed even violent to 
 me, and either he or Planet always keeps me in view. 
 Jose happens to be out now, so I came at some 
 risk." 
 
 "Heaven bless you for coming!" said John fer 
 vidly. "You will soon be relieved of them." 
 
 "Pray Heaven so, but I don t see how," she said 
 wearily, though her breath quickened as she marked 
 the light in Wentworth s eye, and tried to draw her 
 hands from his.
 
 210 THE RED PAPER 
 
 "What are his plans?" 
 
 "Last night he told me we were going to Boerne 
 to-morrow, and outfit for the plains. As if I did not 
 know the reason he made up a story of an impossible 
 ranch. His plan is to take me home to Kerrsville and 
 then go on. He has made some arrangement with 
 someone about the mine. They are to meet at 
 Kerrsville. That is all I know. He does not 
 trust me much. Oh, I wish it was over! I ll give him 
 the paper and all rights. I am sick sick!" 
 
 She drew away her hand and threw out her arms 
 in a gesture of infinite despair. Wcntworth looked 
 at her hungrily. He thought nothing then of the 
 fatal paper, and for the moment forgot his father s 
 murderer. His soul was filled with pity and desire 
 for this woman this girl with her lovely figure, her 
 golden hair, her pale and appealing face. All he 
 had done he felt he had done for her. He loved her 
 he w r ould have her. 
 
 The quiet of the place, the romance of the sur 
 roundings, the luxuriousness of the air, and his 
 past disappointments and reverses all contributed 
 in bringing his daring to a pitch which later astonished 
 him. He considered neither words nor deeds at 
 that sublime moment, but afterward he was aware 
 that he had suddenly clasped her in his arms and 
 kissed her on the mouth a passion as strong as it 
 was new swaying him beyond his own control. 
 She loosened herself from his embrace, with a
 
 DEPUTY SHERIFF HARPER 211 
 
 low cry, her face aflame with confusion. "How. oh, 
 how could you do such a thing?" she stammered, 
 but there was no anger in her voice nor sense of 
 outrage in her attitude. Wentworth was stunned at 
 his own temerity. "God knows I did not mean 
 disrespect," he said, his own voice deep with pas 
 sion. "I I couldn t help it. I know I took an 
 
 unfair advantage, but but I have one excuse. 
 j 
 
 She interrupted him there. She had retreated 
 toward the window and the lover was beginning his 
 passionate appeal when the girl lifted her hand and 
 pointed through the opening. "Look! Look!" she 
 cried, indicating the plaza. "It is Jose! He is search 
 ing for me! I come here often, and he knows it. 
 Pray Heaven he doeni t see you! Hide hide for 
 my sake! Let me go! -oh, let me go!" 
 
 For Wentworth, with a lover s doubt solved, had 
 embraced her again. "I will never play the coward 
 for that villain!" he exclaimed hotly. "Tell me 
 you are not offended. 1 
 
 "Offended? Oh, he is at the door! Please, please 
 let me go. No, I am not offended." 
 
 "Go, then," said Wentworth, as he released her. 
 Go down and meet him, if you feel you must. I 
 will see you to-night. I will have them both to 
 night. You will wait for me? Promise!" 
 
 "I promise. I promise anything. Oh, cannot you 
 see it is for you I fear? Be careful be careful!"
 
 212 THE RED PAPER 
 
 She ran from him, hurrying across the room to 
 the stairway. Wentworth did not follow but stepped 
 to the window, and with his heart in his eyes watched 
 her go along the edge of the plaza and wondered 
 why the Mexican had not trailed after her. 
 
 But the Mexican, though much of a fool in judg 
 ment, was not stupid. He had stopped inside the 
 door of the convent and was chatting, with the air 
 of an old acquaintance, with the officer who lounged 
 there. As he stood rolling a cigarette Miss Merri- 
 dale went out and toward the hotel without as much 
 as a look at him. 
 
 In dress the man was metamorphosed. He no 
 longer wore his tight-fitting black costume, but the 
 blue flannel shirt, leggings, and pointed sombrero 
 he had donned fitted his character and surroundings. 
 It was a free-and-easy costume. 
 
 He had seen the girl pass him with all her usual 
 hauteur, but with an agitation of face that was un 
 usual, and his wits, made active by the latent jealousy 
 that marks those of his blood, sought for a cause for 
 the latter. There was but one explanation which 
 appealed to him, and after learning from the watch 
 man that there was a stranger, evidently a North 
 erner, in the building, he put two and two together. 
 His dark face paled with passion, and his black eyes 
 gleamed like stilettos. 
 
 He reasoned that without a doubt Wentworth had 
 reached San Antonio, communicated with Miss
 
 DEPUTY SHERIFF HARPER 213 
 
 Merridale, and made a rendezvous in the Alamo. 
 And, as undoubtedly as they had met and talked, 
 just so undoubtedly was the pig Yankee still within 
 the walls of the ancient convent. "Aha! That was 
 the cause of her confusion and disdain! Caramba!" 
 
 He smoked rapidly the cigarette he had rolled, 
 his white, even teeth set together as he considered 
 what he should do. And it came to his dramatic 
 soul that there were two things which could be done, 
 and done together: rid his patron and himself of 
 this leech who would not be shaken off, and free 
 himself of a menace to his more than half-formed 
 dream of wealth and happiness. Openly he had 
 never approached the girl on the subject of love, but 
 his Latin nature was patient, albeit it was hot. He 
 had no doubt of his ultimate success. Was not her 
 uncle in his favor? 
 
 As the solution of the girl s agitated appearance 
 came to him with the force of certainty, he dashed 
 his cigarette to the ground with a Spanish oath, 
 then bent and talked earnestly and rapidly to the 
 officer. Finally he passed something into the man s 
 hand. The watchman nodded, smiled and grunted, 
 and Planet, his own face bearing a mirthless grin, 
 turned into the depths of the convent. When he 
 reached the foot of the stairs he took a knife from 
 his pocket and unclasped its long blade. There was 
 the sinuosity of a prowling cat to his lithe figure as 
 he crept noiselessly up the steps. His conscience
 
 214 THE RED PAPER 
 
 did not trouble him over his contemplated act 
 though some thoughts of policy entered his excited 
 brain. But had not his patron told him while on 
 board the steamer that he might do as he wished 
 with Wentworth on land? Would not Bagshot 
 thank him for removing a persistent menace? 
 
 Slowly and silently he reached the floor above, 
 sneaked past the packing boxes and through the arch 
 bisecting the room, and saw his intended victim. 
 There was no mistaking him, for Wentworth stood 
 with his hands on the ragged sill, his gaze turned 
 outward, his back toward the stairs, and there 
 was none but himself and his would-be assassin on 
 that floor. He was easily recognizable to Planet. 
 
 It was fortunate for the unsuspecting man that 
 from the head of the stairs to the window where he 
 stood there w r as considerable distance of clear space. 
 He had seen the girl go along the plaza until she was 
 lost among the trees, and was wondering why the 
 Mexican had not followed her when he heard from 
 behind him the creaking of the ancient board floor. 
 He turned around more in curiosity than alarm but 
 in time to see one of the objects of his thoughts 
 sneaking toward him with a bared knife in his hand. 
 
 As the eyes of the two flashed a mutual recognition 
 Planet let out a Spanish oath and his crouched figure 
 straightened as he increased his speed, stealth now 
 being useless and deception equally out of the question. 
 His purpose was plain, and he must now fight it out.
 
 DEPUTY SHERIFF HARPER 215 
 
 Midway on the floor he was met by his opponent. 
 Wentworth was entirely unarmed, but he hardly 
 needed more weapons than nature had given him. 
 His spirit was buoyed by a great happiness, and the 
 sight of his sneaking enemy filled him with an un 
 holy joy. He had not been an athlete for nothing, 
 and he read the man and his purpose as though 
 Planet s brain had been an open book. The two 
 clinched on the instant, but before the knife had 
 descended Wentworth caught the wrist of the hand 
 holding it, and twisting the weapon from Planet s 
 grasp, flung it to the floor. So far the defense had 
 been easy, and the hot-brained Mexican was no 
 match, mentally or physically, for his cooler antago 
 nist. As he felt himself disarmed and saw the hope 
 lessness of escape, in a state of desperation he did 
 what he had done once before: grappled Wentworth 
 about the body in an endeavor to throw him, at the 
 same time setting up a wild shout of terror that 
 echoed through the hollow structure and aroused 
 those at the door. 
 
 But the American was silent as he tore at the 
 clinging arms in a vain endeavor to loose at once 
 their snake-like grasp, then desisting, again got a 
 grip on the lean throat when the Mexican, to save 
 himself, let go his hold. Wentworth threw him to 
 the floor with a crash. He could not kill him in cold 
 blood. The law was enough for him, and here was 
 one of his birds already captured.
 
 216 THE RED PAPER 
 
 He stepped to where the knife had fallen and 
 picked it up in order to insure his own safety, and 
 at that moment the watchman and the man in 
 uniform came bounding up the stairs. The former, 
 ignoring the prostrate Mexican, jumped for Went- 
 worth and took the knife from him, the young man 
 making no effort to resist. Planet struggled to his 
 feet, his face livid from passion and defeat, but in 
 a flash his wily brain caught the advantage of his 
 position. Pointing to his enemy, he screamed: 
 
 " Arrest hecm! He would kill me! He had me 
 by the thr-roat! He had a daggair!" 
 
 "He s a liar!" said Wentworth, turning to the 
 officer who held him by the shoulder. "He sneaked 
 up behind me and I took the knife away from him." 
 
 "N no! eet is a lie!" shouted Planet. "Ask 
 heem if he not hate me. Ask heem if he not follow 
 me from New Yor-rk. I hear he was in these pla-ace 
 I come up to mak peace with heem. But he 
 mur-r-rder me he try! Tak heem to the jail! I 
 mak char-r-rge against heem!" 
 
 Wentworth caught the situation and grew hot 
 as he began to explain, but the officer cut him short. 
 
 "I don t care to know nothin about the rights 
 of this muss, sir! I didn t see it. All I know is 
 I see you standin over that man with a knife in 
 your fist, and him yellin for help. You had better 
 come along with me. You can explain when you 
 get to the station. And you ll do well to come
 
 DEPUTY SHERIFF HARPER 217 
 
 gentle else you ll come the other way, sir. You 
 may talk to the judge later." 
 
 "I am perfectly willing to go with you," returned 
 Wentworth. "You will have no trouble with me, 
 but I insist on the arrest of that man who attempted 
 to murder me. I have that charge to make against 
 him." 
 
 "Make what charge you like," was the brilliant 
 rejoinder, "but I didn t see him doin anything. He 
 wa n t armed, like you was. And he ll show up 
 all right; take my word for it. Anyhow, he s gone 
 now. I ll get him later. " 
 
 For with the suggestion of his possible detention 
 Planet had slipped past the figurehead of a soldier, 
 that ornamental guardian of the portal not having 
 spoken a word or lifted a hand, and disappeared down 
 stairs; and a moment later Wentworth, caught by 
 the arm of Law, if not of Justice, was marched off. 
 
 The mere fact of his arrest did not greatly trouble 
 him. It certainly was an inconvenience, but it 
 would hardly be more as he would soon see the 
 sheriff, and send for Harper. The thing that vexed 
 him most was the neat way in which Planet had 
 turned the tables on him, and the dogberrian bril 
 liancy of the officer who had taken the Mexican s 
 word for everything. Not until later did it strike 
 him that there might be a friendship or at least an 
 understanding between the two. However, it would 
 make little difference in the end as both Bagshot and
 
 218 THE RED PAPER 
 
 Planet would be arrested that night. After that 
 there would be an open vista of bliss which would 
 well repay him for all he had gone through. 
 
 There was no public attention, and consequently 
 no degradation, on the way to the police station. 
 The prisoner was ushered into a barren apartment 
 blue with cigarette smoke, and there a man behind 
 a railed desk asked his name, address and business, 
 smoking carelessly the while, and with equal care 
 lessness took down the charge of assault with intent 
 to kill, as given by his captor. 
 
 At this plain miscarriage of justice Wentworth 
 began to grow warm, but knowing the futility of 
 protesting, asked if he might bail himself with the 
 money he had. The lieutenant grinned. No, he 
 could not. Then Wentworth demanded to see the 
 sheriff, unfortunately not mentioning that party s 
 name, and \vas bruskly informed that the sheriff 
 was out of town, and wouldn t have seen him, any 
 how. His final request that he might send word 
 to a friend was granted, and on a scrap of paper 
 Wentworth wrote a note to Harper asking him to 
 come at once to the jail, and passed the paper and a 
 bill into the hands of the watchman. 
 
 After that he was led away to a dingy room some 
 where in the rear. It was hot and close and the 
 windows were barred. As the iron door closed on 
 him and he realized his situation, the affront put 
 upon him grew to its true proportions. For a few
 
 DEPUTY SHERIFF HARPER 219 
 
 minutes he was controlled by an impotent anger that 
 did not help matters in the least; but finally he 
 quieted, and using what philosophy he could com 
 mand, awaited Harper s arrival. He was of course 
 unaware that his messenger had thrust the bill into 
 his pocket and returned to his post at the Alamo. 
 There lie coolly unfolded the note and read: 
 
 " Am jailed on a false charge. Come to me at once. 
 Planet is at the bottom of it. 
 
 Jack. " 
 
 After which he tore the paper into small fragments.
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 THE DEVIL CARES FOR HIS OWN 
 
 IN the meantime Mr. Deputy Sheriff Harper was 
 having a series of disappointments. 
 
 The first thing he did was to learn, in a quiet 
 way, that Bagshot and his party were yet guests at 
 the Menger Hotel. This gave him great satisfaction, 
 taking away his only fear, though, never having seen 
 any of the trio, he could not identify the men, and 
 kept \vondering if they were among the numerous 
 characters who lounged in and out of the building. 
 
 As soon as he had washed away the grime of his 
 journey he found his way to the jail, only to learn 
 that Sheriff Thorp would not be in town till the 
 following day, he being in chase of a criminal who 
 had fled into an adjoining county. 
 
 This was Harper s first set-back. He decided to 
 inform Wentworth of the hitch in his plans, and 
 to consult him as to the wisdom of awaiting Thorp s 
 return, or by demanding assistance from a lesser 
 authority, proceed without him. 
 
 But to his surprise, in the face of the admonition 
 220
 
 THE DEVIL CARES FOR HIS OWN 221 
 
 to remain in-doors, Wentworth was out, and had 
 neither left word as to where he was going nor when 
 he would return; and Harper, not dreaming that 
 his friend s absence would be protracted, decided to 
 wait. Taking off his coat, he threw himself on the 
 cool wicker lounge in Wentworth s room, and fell 
 asleep with a promptness that was not remarkable 
 considering his lack of rest on the train the night 
 previous. 
 
 When he awoke it was pitch dark. Striking a 
 match, he looked at his watch and, discovering it 
 to be past nine, he could hardly realize the flight of 
 time. And Wentworth had not returned. 
 
 Scribbling a hasty note, which he left on the table, 
 Harper went back to the Menger Hotel and was 
 seized with something like consternation on dis 
 covering that no word had come from his friend. 
 
 He was now certain that something had happened, 
 and his mind naturally turned to Bagshot and 
 Planet as the cause of his companion s sudden dis 
 appearance. Wentworth was not the man to be 
 beguiled by one of the blatant and open dives that 
 liberally besprinkled San Antonio. He had not been 
 lured away by viciousness that idea was nonsen 
 sical. 
 
 Being a total stranger, there was but one thing 
 for Harper to do and that to appeal to the police. 
 For some time he hesitated at taking the step, even 
 returning to Wentworth s hotel; but, finding him
 
 222 THE RED PAPER 
 
 still absent, in deep worry he set out for the jail 
 again. Entering the dimly lighted and barren room 
 he accosted the half-dressed man who sat with his 
 feet cocked on the pine desk. 
 
 "A friend of mine has disappeared from his hotel. 
 I am getting anxious about him. Can anything be 
 done to find him? He is a stranger here, as am I." 
 
 "Where s he from?" asked the man, slowly taking 
 his feet down and flicking the ash from his cigar. 
 
 "From New York." 
 
 "New York, hey! What name?" 
 
 "John Wentworth." 
 
 "Tall chap? Broad shoulders, with a dinky mus 
 tache an a lot of hot talk?" 
 
 Harper looked at the fellow in astonishment. 
 
 "I think you refer to the man I mean. What 
 do you know of him?" 
 
 The officer reached for a dilapidated book lying 
 on the desk and opened it, running a dirty finger 
 down the page. 
 
 "Wentworth, John. New York. Arrived from 
 Galveston this afternoon. Tourist, he calls himself. 
 Yaas! that s him! I think we have your friend in 
 the cooler, stranger. " 
 
 "What has he done?" 
 
 "Charged by a greaser. Assault intent to kill. 
 This here town has got to be kept peaceful, stranger! 
 Case may come up to-morrow, sometime, ef the 
 judge ain t too busy."
 
 THE DEVIL CARES FOR HIS OWN 223 
 
 Harper was stunned. 
 
 "Can I see him?" he asked. 
 
 "Not on yer life at this hour. Come in about 
 sunup. Ye wouldn t disturb a man s sleep would 
 ye?" 
 
 "I think he will be glad to be disturbed by me." 
 
 "Well, he won t be. Ye needn t worry about him 
 bein lost no more; he s safe enough!" 
 
 "Can t I bail him out?" 
 
 "Probably to-morrer; that s the judge s business, 
 not mine." 
 
 Harper fairly staggered from the place. What 
 had Wentworth done? What would be the result 
 of this? A greaser! He stopped in his walk as light 
 came to him. Had Wentworth tried to capture 
 Planet single-handed? 
 
 He did not sleep that night, and early the next 
 morning he was at the jail, though it was nearly ten 
 o clock before he was admitted to his friend. As 
 the turnkey was about to unlock the door Harper 
 asked him if Sheriff Thorp had yet arrived. 
 
 "No, sir, but we expect him back shortly. Had 
 a phone from him late last night. He got his man. " 
 
 "Ah!" Harper took a bill from his pocket and 
 held it out to his conductor. "Will you take this, 
 and let me know as soon as he arrives? I wish to 
 see him." The turnkey looked a bit suspicious, but 
 took the bill. "Who shall I say wants him?" he 
 asked.
 
 224 THE RED PAPER 
 
 "Deputy Sheriff Harper, of New York." 
 
 The expression of indifference fell like a mask 
 from the fellow s face. 
 
 "Yaas, sir certainly, sir; I ll let you know at 
 once, sir. You was gave an hour in here, but you 
 can take your time, sir. Yes, sir." And he swung 
 open the door. 
 
 Fortunately Wentworth had been untroubled by 
 a companion. Haggard-eyed, dirty, and disheveled, 
 he saw Harper enter, and his rage burst forth. Briefly 
 he told his story, leaving out the warmth of his 
 interview with the young lady, his big friend listen 
 ing with mingled fee 1 ings of anger and relief. 
 
 "Why in the name of common sense didn t you 
 send for me at once? he asked. 
 
 "Send for you! I did by the man who arrested 
 me and wondered why you didn t come! I gave 
 the scoundrel two dollars." 
 
 "You were probably outbid by Planet. I ll make 
 it hot for that Alamo chap if we have the time; for 
 this thing will hurry them. But, thank Heaven, 
 it s no worse! I ve imagined horrible things! Have 
 patience. Jack, it will soon be all right! No one but 
 a fool will believe Planet s story, and when the sheriff 
 comes the thing will be set straight in a jiffy. They 
 are here and we will have them!" 
 
 "And, have you seen 
 
 "No, my son; not to be sure of her. There are 
 several beauties at the hotel, and
 
 THE DEVIL CARES FOR HIS OWN 225 
 
 "Never mind your nonsense," interrupted Went- 
 worth, who was not to be chaffed into good humor. 
 "By the Lord, I d almost sacrifice Bagshot to get 
 hold of Planet! where we wouldn t be disturbed." 
 
 "And would you also sacrifice Miss Merridale s 
 interest to say nothing of the lady herself? 1 
 
 "I ve been an ass!" was the disgusted rejoinder. 
 
 "In what way, Jack? Not regarding her?" 
 
 Wentworth looked seriously at his big friend. 
 "Perhaps you would think so if you knew. No, 
 I didn t refer to her. Quite the contrary; that is the 
 only part of the day I am proud of!" 
 
 "I grope. Jack." 
 
 "Well, I haven t been honest, Tom. She was and 
 is the crux of the matter. It is she I find I am chasing. 
 I fess cold. I m in the race for her and now she 
 knows it. I told her and by all that s holy I m 
 going to get her and relieve her and myself of the 
 two villains who have outraged and robbed both 
 of us. If you must have it I love her !" 
 
 Harper bent forward and reached out his hand. 
 "I congratulate you, old man, but the last is no 
 news to me. However!" He was interrupted by 
 the door being opened by the turnkey. 
 
 "Sheriff Thorp just arrived this minute, sir. 
 He s in front of the jail now. If you want to see 
 him you d better take your chance while you can 
 get it." 
 
 Harper waited for no more. He jumped up,
 
 226 THE RED PAPER 
 
 running out of the cell and so into the jail office 
 l n time to see a mounted man swing himself from 
 his horse and enter the building. Covered with 
 dust, he was dressed after the fashion of the traditional 
 cow-boy, and conspicuously armed with two revolvers. 
 Harper went straight up to him as he entered the 
 office. 
 
 "This is Sheriff Thorp?" 
 
 "Yes, sir," was the answer given with a snap. 
 
 "I am Deputy Sheriff Harper of New York. I 
 have a letter for you, and wish to have a talk with 
 you as soon as possible." 
 
 As he spoke he looked sharply at the Texan, and 
 saw a stocky man of about his own age whose face 
 was deeply tanned, and whose hair and small 
 moustache had been faded by long exposure to the 
 burning sun until they had the tint of hay. The 
 whole color of the man was faded, but through this 
 neutral tint there shone a pair of lively black eyes 
 that commanded instant attention. Harper con 
 sidered him a large copy of Bunsen, only more ner 
 vous, more intense, and entirely lacking in the lat- 
 ter s boyish expression and height of color. Thorp 
 seemed to take in the New Yorker with a flash of 
 his eye. 
 
 "Very good, sir. I ll see you within ten minutes, 
 and give you all the time you require. Please step 
 into this room." 
 
 In the meantime Wentworth was waiting. He sat
 
 THE DEVIL CARES FOR HIS OWN 227 
 
 tmmoving on the edge of the board which had been 
 his bed. His spirit was not in the least broken by 
 his hard experience, but the anger that still gnawed 
 at his heart was now largely directed against him 
 self. Harper had been gone two hours, and high 
 noon had struck. The impatient prisoner was 
 wondering what had become of his chum when he 
 heard a heavy footstep accompanied by the clank 
 of spurs coming down the stone corridor, and in a 
 moment Harper entered with Sheriff Thorp. The 
 latter went straight to the prisoner and held out his 
 hand. 
 
 "I m Sheriff Thorp," he began abruptly and with 
 out waiting for Harper to speak. "I have become 
 a little familiar with your case, sir. It is interesting 
 from the start, and you have been outraged. There s 
 going to be a damned hot time in this ranch over 
 your affair, when I can see to it. Sharp dodge on 
 the greaser s part! Quick wit, I must say! But I ve 
 got to hang to the letter o the law an get you out 
 in the regular way. I reckon you ll be free as soon 
 as court sits say about three o clock. In the 
 meantime Mr. Harper an me will just walk over 
 to the hotel on a little matter o business though I 
 have an idee I have an idee!" 
 
 He stopped and drew his brows together as though 
 in deep thought. "I ll have you out of here, any 
 way," he went on abruptly. "Come up stairs to 
 my room. You ll stay there until out of limbo.
 
 228 THE RED PAPER 
 
 Great pity Bunsen couldn t ha come with you 
 great pity! Come on, sir." 
 
 There was a burst of spontaneity about the man 
 that carried Wentworth before it. He felt that 
 here was competency, and that with such a backing 
 he would obtain both justice and revenge. Revenge! 
 Wentworth was only human and he was still suffering. 
 It was nearly three o clock, and San Antonio, no 
 longer entirely w r edded to ancient customs, was 
 coming early out of siesta. For something like two 
 hours Wentworth had been in a large, cool room in 
 the sheriff s quarters, that official and Harper hav 
 ing gone to the Alenger Hotel. The young man 
 had washed, and refreshed himself with a good meal 
 and now, in improved humor, \vas leaning back in 
 a big cane-seated chair, smoking a cigar and await 
 ing the return of the sheriff with his prisoners, and 
 the opening of the court. 
 
 His fancies flew lightly. With her uncle arrested 
 what would become of Grace? Not that he asked 
 himself the question for lack of knowing. He knew 
 well enough. He smiled to himself. 
 
 "No one to protect her?" He would see to that. 
 Harper might form his syndicate and go North 
 alone. And then 
 His pleasant reverie was broken in upon by the 
 man whose name was floating through his mind. 
 Without knocking, the new deputy sheriff burst 
 into the room with as much precipitation as though
 
 THE DEVIL CARES FOR HIS OWN 220 
 
 the apartment were his own, and his first words 
 brought Wentworth s castle tottering to the ground. 
 
 "They have escaped! They have gone, Heaven 
 knows where, for there is not a trace of them! 
 Oh, fool! ass! imbecile that I have been!" 
 
 "Gone!" shouted Wentworth, springing to his 
 feet. 
 
 "Yes! Vanished into thin air! Thorp has stayed 
 behind to investigate. He s not a cursed bit ilum- 
 muxed. I ought not to have waited an instant for 
 Thorp or gone to see you about what to do! I 
 might have had them! I m a fine specimen of an 
 officer of the law! Oh, kick me, somebody!" 
 
 "And Miss Merridale has left no word no note 
 for me?" 
 
 "Not a thing. 1 inquired. We only know that 
 some time in the evening, when I was asleep at your 
 place, an automobile came up and took the whole 
 kit." 
 
 "We should easily trace the auto - began Went 
 worth. 
 
 "That s the curse of it! interrupted Harper. 
 "No one knows its number or its driver. It was a 
 planned sneak- a get-away. They were scared by 
 what Planet did yesterday, knowing what would be 
 likely to happen to-day. Oh, I ought to be horse 
 whipped! Why in Heaven s name didn t you stay in 
 the house, as you agreed to do?" 
 
 There was no answer to this. Harper savagely
 
 230 THE RED PAPER 
 
 bit off the end of a cigar and began to smoke, throw 
 ing himself into a chair, with an air of infinite disgust. 
 
 Neither man spoke for a time. There was nothing 
 to say, since the story had been told. Wentworth 
 knew that the fault had been his, but in the face of 
 what had happened in the Alamo before Planet 
 attacked him, he was not prepared to say he was 
 sorry he had broken his promise though he was 
 sorry enough for one of its results. He under 
 stood his friend s irritation, and knew that a hasty or 
 inappropriate word would be a spark which might 
 cause an explosion both would forever regret. The 
 two men sat and looked at each other, both smoking, 
 but neither ventured on a remark. The situation 
 was growing more and more tense, and each silently 
 prayed for the coming of the sheriff. He might 
 have news. 
 
 But it was nearly an hour more before Thorp came 
 in, bringing with him an air of alacrity and decision. 
 "For a time we have lost them," he said, as he en 
 tered the room, but the remark was given in a man 
 ner that conveyed the idea that the news was 
 favorable. "At the railroad station I get no trace 
 of them. From what I have discovered I have 
 come to the conclusion that they were driven into 
 the open country or to some point where the auto 
 was exchanged for an ambulance. But in what 
 direction they went I am not yet satisfied. If I 
 only savvied more of the men!"
 
 THE DEVIL CARES FOR HIS OWN 231 
 
 "The men? Haven t you heard the whole story?" 
 asked Wentworth. 
 
 "Only in part. Little aside of what the warrant 
 covers, and nothing as to the character of the men." 
 
 "Then you are but half-informed! You tell him, 
 Tom. I can t go into the thing again." 
 
 And so Harper told the whole story, Wentworth 
 here and there putting in a word of correction. It 
 was a long but very complete tale, and when it was 
 finished the sheriff s face had lost its puzzled expres 
 sion. 
 
 "A precious pair of villains!" he ejaculated. 
 I believe they have gone as straight to the mines as 
 possible, or will go after disposing of the lady. They 
 will outfit for the plains at Boerne. They must, 
 for Boerne would be the last place they could outfit. 
 And they have elected to drive rather than risk 
 identification on the railroad." 
 
 "I know that Bagshot intended to go to Boerne. 
 Miss Merridale told me that," said Wentworth. 
 
 "Ah, that simplifies matters! Boerne is thirty- two 
 miles north from here. I was born there; my father 
 lives there now drives the stage from Boerne to 
 Johnson City. The place is something more than 
 the mere settlement it was a few years ago, but it 
 is the jumping-off place for the llanos directly west. 
 By thunder, I see their game! Look here!" He 
 went to a drawer and brought out a map of Texas. 
 "See! They go to Leon Springs, then to Boerne,
 
 232 THE RED PAPER 
 
 then to Comfort, crossing the ford of the Guadaloupe, 
 than to Kerrsville where he is to meet some parties 
 who are to go on to the mine with him. Of course 
 they are hurried but they are conservative, too; they 
 show that by taking to horses and wheels instead of 
 going by the short railroad that ends at Kerrsville. 
 And they dare not drop the lady until they are ready 
 to lose themselves on leaving Kerrsville, having 
 outfitted for the mines. Gentlemen, I know every 
 foot of the land beyond Kerrsville. A few miles 
 west it is practically a desert. It would be hard to 
 catch them if they enter it. I shall at once telegraph 
 Boerne and Kerrsville, but I doubt if we get them that 
 way; I think Bagshot is too foxy for such a simple 
 trap. Does he know Mr. Harper is connected with 
 this?" 
 
 "No. He thinks I alone am after him," said 
 Went worth. 
 
 "Good! Now I see my way! Gentlemen, this 
 thing interests me for its own sake as well as for 
 yours. Just now I am comparatively free, and I 
 will take this up and carry it through, if you wish it, 
 but it will cost you time, money and hard work. Are 
 you for it?" 
 
 Thorp was walking up and down the room as he 
 talked, his head bent, his thumbs hooked into his 
 belt, his step and voice filled with energy. Werit- 
 worth caught the man s fire. 
 
 "Most decidedly we both are for it, when I am
 
 THE DEVIL CARES FOR HIS OWN 233 
 
 free," he said. "Neither time, money, nor work 
 need be considered." 
 
 "That paper alone is worth the trip after them," 
 said Thorp. "You may leave the details to me. 
 Of course Planet won t be in court, and you will be 
 discharged at once. But, gentlemen, you must start 
 the ir.omenl. I am ready. We are chasing desperate 
 men who will now stop at nothing. I would advise 
 you to buy proper clothing and arm yourselves a 
 rifle each and revolvers. In Texas a civilian can no 
 longer carry arms without a license, but officers of 
 the law are exempt. I will swear you both in as my 
 posse. It is best to keep this to ourselves. Stand up. 
 
 He drew himself up before them and in a rapid 
 and perfunctory manner administered the oath. 
 There was a headlong dash about the man that was 
 contagious, and the two friends felt themselves 
 booked for a novel adventure, though neither hesi 
 tated for an instant. 
 
 "Meet me in front of this building at five o clock 
 to-night," said Thorp in a voice that admitted of 
 neither question nor suggestion. "I have a heap to 
 attend to before that time. Can you ride?" 
 
 "We both ride." 
 
 "Good! And your ability will be tested. I will 
 attend to getting horses." 
 
 "Here?" asked Harper, astonished; "Don t we 
 go by rail to Boerne?" 
 
 Thorp smiled. "Hardly and for two reasons;
 
 234 THE RED PAPER 
 
 first, that I wish to cover more breadth of ground 
 than lies between two steel rails; and second; that 
 there isn t another train to Boerne until nine to 
 morrow morning. And I wish to stop several times 
 on my way. " 
 
 He walked to the door where he turned and spoke 
 again, his face becoming impressive. "Gentlemen, 
 those two scoundrels have nigh twenty-four hours 
 start of us. You have booked yourselves for no 
 picnic; it will be an experience that will test your 
 sand ; or I fail to read those fellows straight. But 
 we will not let up on them until we have them, alive 
 or dead. When I go on a trail I camp on it." 
 
 And with that he went out. Later both Went- 
 worth and Harper remembered his prophecy.
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 THE STAGE-DRIVER 
 
 INSTEAD of its being five o clock, it was past 
 sunset when the mounted trio left the door of 
 the San Antonio jail. In that latitude darkness 
 falls swiftly after the sun goes down, but the moon 
 in its second quarter gave plenty of light for travel 
 ing. 
 
 From the time Thorp had left the two men in his 
 room, there had been no hitch other than some delay 
 in the business of the sheriff s office. Regarding the 
 steps taken for Wentworth, the matter had been 
 almost perfunctory. He had appeared before the 
 judge, and was promptly discharged, not only on 
 account of the weight of his own story, but through 
 the absence of his accuser. The case of the watch 
 man at the Alamo was to remain in abeyance until 
 the more urgent business of catching Bagshot had 
 been accomplished. 
 
 Nothing more had been learned of the fugitives, 
 and apparently nothing more was necessary to the 
 present knowledge of their pursuers. Thorp was
 
 236 THE RED PAPER 
 
 positive that Bagshot was on his way toward the 
 Northwest. 
 
 "I cannot quite understand it," said Wentworth, 
 as the trio moved out of the city. "Whatever else 
 he may be, Bagshot is no fool. He believes I am on 
 his trail. Why did he not send Miss Merridale to 
 Kerrsvillc by railroad, while he and Planet hid 
 themselves in Mexico until the trouble blew over and 
 they knew I would be gone? That would be their 
 logical proceeding." 
 
 "My friend," said Thorp, drawing his horse to 
 Wentworth s side, "my experience is that criminals 
 are rarely logical, as you call it. For w r hich we are 
 to be thankful; for if their brains worked consistently 
 we would have little chance of catching them. Every 
 crook has a touch of what might be called insanity. 
 He lacks mental balance else he wouldn t be a crook; 
 and while he appears to be mighty sharp in some 
 of his motions he is equally stupid in others. 
 
 "I figure on Bagshot this way: In the first place, 
 he is afraid of the girl; mistake number one, as she 
 could only obtain that paper through a long and 
 uncertain civil suit. In the second place, he and 
 Planet are not alone in this job; there is someone 
 in Kerrsville awaiting them, someone essential to 
 the success of the scheme, and that is why he is 
 going there that is his second mistake. In the 
 third place; you have upset his plans and rattled 
 him, first by charging him with the murder of your
 
 THE STAGE-DRIVER 237 
 
 father, and second by your knowledge of the value 
 of the map. He knows you have money, and prob 
 ably fears that you have made a duplicate of the 
 map, as you have seemed to care little for it, or have 
 obtained sufficient knowledge from it to start an 
 expedition of your own, stake out the claim yourself 
 and render all his trouble useless. Do you see?" 
 
 "I see your point." 
 
 "Well, to make my theory hold water I have 
 found out that Bagshot has had many telegrams 
 from Kerrsville, but I don t know who from; if I 
 did I would have him watched. I have already 
 telegraphed to the sheriff there to hold the outfit 
 when it appears; but the chances are that it will not 
 appear as it left here. As you say, Bagshot is no 
 fool." 
 
 "Our chance, then, is to overtake them?" asked 
 Wentworth, catching the shrewdness of Thorp s 
 deductions. 
 
 "It seems to be our main chance," returned the 
 officer. "I have much to think of," and drawing 
 away his horse he relapsed into sombre silence. 
 
 At the start Wentworth had been amused. The 
 smallness of the horses and the height of the cantle 
 and horn of the Mexican saddle excited his ridicule, 
 but he had reason to acknowledge the staying powers 
 of the animals and the comfort of the cradle-like 
 structure ere he again saw the ancient Texas city. 
 
 There was a strong smack of the romantic in his
 
 238 THE RED PAPER 
 
 situation, in the half-light of the moon, in the silence, 
 in the nature of his errand; and these, with their 
 novelty under the circumstances, had a strong effect 
 on his spirits. Here was a dash of life the like of 
 which he had never before known, and he little 
 realized that he was being lifted by the excitement 
 of the greatest and most brutal of all games: the 
 man-hunt. 
 
 To him it seemed ages since he had left New 
 York, ages since he had been beset by ennui. Ahead 
 lay a glow that tinged the young man s mental 
 horizon and caused his spirits to fly as wildly as 
 sparks in a gale. It was high tide with him the 
 flooding of love, youth, imagination and perfect 
 health. He was yet to need the sustaining power 
 of each. 
 
 As the trio drew from the city limits and ambled 
 over the black-waxy of the so-called State Road 
 now turned to a gray powder by the dryness of 
 season, Wentworth could have lifted his voice and 
 sung from an excess of animal spirits only there 
 was something grim in the bearing of the young 
 sheriff a something that repressed any outburst. 
 
 In round numbers Leon Springs is twenty-live 
 miles north of San Antonio; and as they had not 
 pushed their pace, it was nearly eleven o clock when 
 they reached it. They drew rein before an unlighted 
 house with a corral behind it, and by then both 
 Wentworth and Harper were fagged out by the
 
 THE STAGE-DRIVER 239 
 
 unusual ride. "Stay on your cayuses, gentlemen," 
 said the sheriff, as he swung from his own piebald 
 horse. 
 
 "Don t we stop here?" asked Harper, who was 
 saddle-galled. 
 
 "Can t tell yet. Played out?" 
 
 "I don t know what you call it, but if we go 
 farther to-night I am afraid I will have to walk." 
 
 "I think not," was the short return. "I gave 
 you fair warning." 
 
 "You re the boss," said Harper, shifting his big 
 body in the saddle, "but that means eating from a 
 mantel-piece and sleeping on my stomach for a 
 month to come. I m glad I came." 
 
 Thorp smiled grimly. "And this is nothing to 
 what you will have to come to unless I lose my 
 guess. Never mind, sir, so s you re game. You ll 
 get used to it. " He left the two in the road, knocked 
 on the door of the house, and after a few moments 
 of whispered conversation with the man who an 
 swered his summons, he came back and got into 
 his saddle. "Gentlemen," he said. "I am a bit 
 puzzled. Our friends have not passed through Leon 
 Springs, but it is likely they flanked it. We will 
 get on to Boerne. My father will know more than 
 I can learn here. " 
 
 The others groaned inwardly; but the sheriff and 
 his tired posse started again. Five miles beyond 
 Leon Springs they climbed the rampart which
 
 240 THE RED PAPER 
 
 stretches across central Texas an ancient beach 
 to the shallow sea that ages before covered the 
 plain below. From there the character of the coun 
 try changed to a rolling plateau, covered with clumps 
 of live-oak and patches of woodland broken by 
 lovely savannas. By this the moon was low but 
 it stiil gave sufficient light to expose the beauty of 
 the new land the "God s Country" to those who 
 have once known it, and which, after it is left, for 
 ever beckons. 
 
 But neither of the city men were in condition to 
 appreciate the glory of the prospect nor the beauties 
 of nature; in fact neither was more than half-alive, 
 and the party moved on in dead silence, so far as 
 words were concerned. It was after one o clock 
 when they forded the Cibola and entered the silent 
 hamlet of Boerne. In an hour more their horses 
 were corral ed, and Wentworth and Harper were 
 asleep in the house of the sheriff s father, too ex 
 hausted to think. For aught they knew, or cared, 
 Bagshot might have been in the next room. 
 
 But the following morning found them in better 
 shape though suffering from that species of rheuma 
 tism which springs from the overtaxed muscles of 
 those who, though horsemen, have not had late 
 practise. When they woke the sun was high and 
 they were startled by the lateness of the hour, won 
 dering why they had been allowed to rest so long. 
 They learned soon enough.
 
 THE STAGE-DRIVER 241 
 
 On meeting the sheriff, who showed no signs of 
 either fatigue or haste though he had not slept 
 at all their inquiries were met by disappoint 
 ment. 
 
 "They haven t been through Boerne, either and 
 they would likely stop here, if they came this 
 way. They ve got to outfit somewhere. Honest 
 Injun, I feel something like a fool about this! I 
 felt sure we would get more than a trace of them 
 here, but you needn t think we have lost them though 
 we have lost the scent for a while. I ve been con 
 sulting the guv nor. He wants to see you gentlemen 
 before he starts on his stage trip." 
 
 Bud Thorp, the driver of the stage from Boerne 
 to Johnson City in Blanco County, was a man who 
 might have been a well-to-do New England farmer, 
 from appearances. He was clean-shaven, tanned to 
 a deep leather color, and had his son s eyes black, 
 piercing, and shrewd. Apparently, he was as open 
 as the day; but for sound sense no one in Kendall 
 County was his superior. 
 
 "Harper! Glad to know ye, sir. An Wentworth 
 same, by thunder! Glad to know ye both! Now, 
 Cave," he said, turning to the sheriff, "I ll just 
 naturally con that story again, an take bearin s. 
 All I can say is no such party has run a course on. 
 this settlement- -not in no ambulance. Nothin 
 but cedar-post wagons has gone through Boerne 
 sides what goes through on that railroad. I uster
 
 242 THE RED PAPER 
 
 drive to San Antonio, gents, but that one-boss con 
 cern made me change my route. Gentlemen, we re 
 just a little off soundin s here, an not many craft 
 sails by, but what we speak em all. What will 
 ye have before we gets to work?" 
 
 Both Wentworth and Harper were struck by the 
 marine flavor of the old fellow s words, and won 
 dered at the brine found so far from the ocean. It 
 was evident that the stage-driver had once been a 
 sailor. They were sitting on the veranda of the 
 house; and the sheriff, always with an eye to business, 
 pulled out the warrant, read it, and stated what he 
 knew. 
 
 "Good Lord!" said the old man, straightening 
 himself and pushing his spectacles up to his forehead. 
 " Bagshot Simeon Bagshot! I don t savvy no 
 Planet, but I m on to Bagshot with both feet from 
 keel to truck. Why, he came from these parts! An 
 suspected o killin a man named Wentworth! Your 
 relation, son?" He swung around to John. 
 
 "My father, sir. He was in Texas for some time 
 twelve years ago. Did you ever know him?" 
 
 The old man drew his shaggy brows together and 
 pondered. "Did I know your father, son? Well, I 
 dunno as I did; but I knew a Wentworth some 
 thutty-odd years ago. You bet I did; here s what 
 he gave me." 
 
 The stage-driver pulled off his Stetson and showed 
 a glistening bald head, across the top of which was
 
 THE STAGE-DRIVER 243 
 
 a deep, sunken welt the mark of a terrific scar. 
 He laughed. 
 
 "Hearin that old name seems funny!" he ex 
 claimed. "Well, I hadn t got nothin ag in him. 
 Hain t seen him since. I wonder now if that Went- 
 worth could a been your dad, son? We was boys at 
 sea together, an got inter a row over some money. 
 We was lyin in Havana Harbor that time, me a 
 hulk of a cabin-boy, an him a sort o midshipman- 
 like. Anyhow, we got into a fight guess it was my 
 fault, I was pretty tough an in the thick of it 
 Went fetches me a crack on the knob with a belayin - 
 pin, an it nigh finished me for good. Guess he 
 thought he killed me. Anyways, when I got sense 
 again, two days after, Bagshot he was there, sort 
 o supercargo told me he thought I was dead and 
 had told Wentworth so. Went got plumb scared 
 didn t wait to find out just skipped right then- 
 jumped overboard and swum ashore. As I said I 
 didn t see him again but I did hear as how he got 
 to be skipper of his own ship, years after, an got 
 rich. He got away with me, anyhow; and Bag- 
 shot he told me as how he got away with the money, 
 too money that didn t belong to him. But on 
 that last p int I found out later that Simeon lied 
 he certainly wa n t above lyin . I know for sure that 
 though Went was some high spirited he wasn t no 
 thief. We was just boys together, an - What s 
 up, sir?"
 
 244 THE RED PAPER 
 
 For John Wentworth had risen slowly to his feet, 
 his face gray. "As heaven is above me?" he fairly 
 groaned. "My father has been fighting a shadow 
 for over thirty years a shadow a hideous ghost 
 held up to him by the man we are after! Bagshot 
 is twice a murderer! 
 
 Harper looked stunned; the stage-driver appeared 
 puzzled. "What d ye mean?" he asked, pausing 
 in the act of lighting the pipe he had been filling. 
 Wentworth turned to him, his face becoming radiant. 
 "I thank God for this meeting, sir! It has been more 
 than chance! You may laugh at me when I tell you 
 T think it is God s justice. The man who struck 
 you was my father. He always thought he had 
 killed you. and Simeon Bagshot held him to that 
 belief, on the strength of it blackmailing him before 
 he killed him and killed him because he would 
 not betray his trust and deliver the paper, the value 
 of which both knew. The fancy that he was a crim 
 inal worried the joy from my father s life. W T hy 
 did he not investigate? The ghost would have been 
 easily laid !" 
 
 "Be you his son sure?" shouted the old man, 
 dropping his pipe and getting to his feet. 
 
 "Yes, without a doubt! My father was Captain 
 Wentworth was commander of his own ship and 
 did make fortunate voyages and investments. He 
 told me of some crime he had committed when a 
 boy at sea and while in a passion."
 
 THE STAGE-DRIVER 245 
 
 And Wentworth, hurriedly and with some par 
 donable incoherence, retailed the story of the night 
 his father died. 
 
 Old Thorp stood bareheaded, listening eagerly; 
 then he dashed his hat to the floor of the veranda, 
 and grasped the young man s hand. 
 
 "Hain t got the least feelin agin ye, son nor 
 yer father, either. But I savvy Bagshot like readin 
 his log. I know him though I hain t seen him for 
 more n rive year. Ye got to get him, Cave, you 
 just got to get him ! Tell me what you ve done, an 
 why ye think he s come this way." 
 
 The sheriff explained the course of his reasoning, 
 and the old man laughed in derision. 
 
 "You hain t been wonderful smart for an officer, 
 Cave! I see the hull thing!" 
 
 "How?" asked the sheriff, flushing under his 
 tan. 
 
 "This way. Bagshot was bound to change his 
 plans after the muss Planet had with our friend 
 here. He was afraid the gal told what she knew. 
 That s one thing. Next, he darsen t go nowhere 
 far by railroad cause of the telegraph. Well, what 
 has he done? He s bound to come in this direction, 
 final, if he s goin to either Kerrsville or the mine. 
 You can gamble that he drove that ambulance 
 with the gal in it to Corbyn or New Brunfels jest 
 to throw you off the track an he done it. 
 
 "Cave, he s behind ye, not ahead o ye. When
 
 246 THE RED PAPER 
 
 he comes up outfitted from below he ll give Boerne 
 a wide berth. He s a foxy cuss, and him an the 
 greaser make a strong team a reg lar Injun team." 
 
 While the sheriff was conversing with his father 
 Went worth had moved from the veranda, followed 
 by Harper. His still growing emotion had become 
 too great to allow him to remain with the others. 
 The whole matter was plain to him; no reasoning, 
 no further proof was necessary; events fitted too 
 nicely for any but one conclusion to be drawn, and 
 such conclusion came to the young man with the 
 force of an absolute certainty. His father had been 
 hounded, ruined, and, constructively at least, mur 
 dered by a liar. Now the captain s name was at 
 last free from taint, and he, his son. might look the 
 world in the face. To the young man it was like 
 a cloud passing from before the sun. 
 
 But Bagshot? It shook Wentworth even to think 
 of him, and he could barely contain himself as Har 
 per referred to the fugitives. The old man on the 
 veranda looked at the two friends, then bent his 
 mouth to the ear of his son. 
 
 "That young feller will shoot Simeon Bagshot 
 on sight," said the stage-driver, in a whisper. "You 
 ain t never goin to take Simeon alive or I can t 
 read faces no more." 
 
 "I won t blame him," returned the sheriff. "But 
 he won t kill him, nor we won t serve the warrant 
 by setting down here. Those two fellows with me
 
 THE STAGE-DRIVER 247 
 
 don t lack no sand, and I don t like the idea of turn 
 ing back." 
 
 "Shore not, Cave! Cause that s what Bagshot 
 looks for! He won t touch Boerne; an he ll go 
 round Comfort, likely, not hankerin after no settle 
 ments. But he s got to cross the Guadaloupe unless 
 he takes to the desert, which ain t understandable. 
 Can t ye see?" 
 
 "You mean we got to lay for him at the Guada 
 loupe ford?" 
 
 "Perasely" said the driver, bringing his great 
 hands together with the sound of a pistol-shot. 
 "Camp right there until they come up an there 
 ye have it! Bagshot ain t lookin for no trouble 
 forward. I bet he s breakin his neck lookin for 
 dust behind." 
 
 "It is the best way!" said the sheriff, nodding 
 his head from sudden conviction. "We ll outfit 
 for camping and go on to-night." 
 
 "Now yer talking !" said his father, rising and 
 pulling out a silver watch. "An I got to begin 
 to hook up the stage, too, So long, son!"
 
 CHAPTER XIX 
 AT THE FORD 
 
 FIVE miles or more south of the small settle 
 ment bearing the significant name of Com 
 fort, the Guaclaloupe River winds through 
 soil black with natural richness, and at its single 
 available ford the road leading northwest, here but 
 a wide trail over the prairie, crosses the stream at 
 the only point within miles where there is a falling 
 away of the low but steep bluffs. 
 
 For many years the land has been safe against 
 the roving Apache and the predatory Mexican, and 
 is fairly safe from the lawlessness which once char 
 acterized the plains. But there are still sporadic 
 cases of violence of the old order though Texas has 
 become modernized. Life and property have more 
 protection than the mere word of the law; yet even 
 at the present day though men are not allowed to 
 carry arms indiscriminately against their brothers 
 it is done covertly, for a stranger met out on the 
 llanos is very apt to prove an enemy. The adage 
 that applies to the African desert might largely 
 
 apply to-day to the great Western plains. 
 
 248
 
 219 
 
 On the south bank of the Guadaloupc the river 
 margin is overgrown with a thick tangle of chaparral, 
 post-oaks, nr.(l low cedars; but on the north side a 
 few live-oaks sprang from as fair a reach of grass 
 land as the eye ever beheld. It is a rich country; 
 the ranches are immense in size, and in the interval 
 between Boerne and the old German settlement of 
 Comfort there are but few houses to be seen by the 
 traveler on the main trail. 
 
 It was in the shade of one of the great trees on 
 the north side of the river, a little removed from the 
 ford itself, that the pursuing party camped and 
 waited. Save for the addition of a lead-horse carry 
 ing provisions their outfit was unchanged and they 
 had none of the luxuries of a picnic camp. Thorp 
 had been busy and thorough, yet the only additional 
 news he had gleaned in a lone trip to Comfort was 
 negative: no ambulance containing a lady had yet 
 passed through the place. 
 
 The wait was a welcome rest; but to Wentworth, 
 with yet another indictment against the man he 
 hated with his whole soul, every hour of inactivity 
 increased his nervous tension. The horses were 
 picketed in a thicket, that a sight of them might 
 not arouse the suspicion of the fugitives or tempt 
 a stray desperado. And danger from the last char 
 acter was not little. 
 
 So the party settled down. One day two days 
 three days passed, and there had been no sign of
 
 250 THE RED PAPER 
 
 Bagshot; indeed, there was hardly a sight of any 
 one. It was now early in October, but the land 
 about gave no such evidence of the advancing 
 season as might be noted in the North. In the sun 
 the heat was yet severe, the sky a glorious expanse 
 of blue; there was little or no wind nor were there 
 the "gulf-clouds" which arc usually a feature of the 
 Texas firmament. 
 
 Talk had languished among the three, but as 
 Thorp stood looking over the broad expanse under 
 his eye he turned to the two lying beneath the tree. 
 
 "This ain t exactly the weather I look for at this 
 time of year, " he said. 
 
 "What s the matter with it?" asked Wentworth, 
 who had been smoking in gloomy silence. 
 
 "Nothing in one way. It suits us all right, but 
 there s a stillness about things that strikes me as 
 meaning business later. The nights ain t cool enough, 
 and the clouds don t form and fly like they ought 
 to. Things seem to be holding their breath. Don t 
 you notice it?" 
 
 "It s lovely weather and if it is holding its 
 breath it s doing about what I am. Taken with 
 the rest of it, it is damned monotonous." 
 
 And it had become monotonous, this unrewarded 
 waiting. Even the sheriff s face began to wear a 
 less confident look; Harper was openly discontented 
 though he always wore a good-natured countenance, 
 and his growls were without venom or fault-finding.
 
 AT THE FORD 251 
 
 Wentworth fairly twitched from suppressed nervous 
 ness. He began to suspect that Bagshot had given 
 them the slip and had not intended to cross the 
 Guadaloupe at all. The thought was maddening. 
 Each man held the same suspicion and each man 
 concealed it from the others. Wentworth, now 
 hardened and rested, had made no formal protest 
 as yet, but he felt that he must surely cry out against 
 another day of inaction. 
 
 For besides the disappointment and the dull 
 passing of the hours there was little or nothing to 
 be seen of life. Once in a while a man on horseback 
 passed over the trail, but the small, single track 
 railroad had absorbed most of the travel and haul 
 ing; no wagons lumbered over the wide and shallow 
 ford, and the faint whistle of the locomotive which 
 once in a while drifted from the distance was like 
 a cry of triumph. The old, wild days, the provin 
 cial, devil-may-care days, the days of makeshifts, 
 seemed to be gone forever. 
 
 As the sheriff made his remark about the unusual 
 weather he walked away. It had been on the tip 
 of Wentworth s tongue to sound him as to his future 
 plans, but he let the chance go by and the day for 
 such inquiry never dawned. 
 
 At night the watchers had taken turns picketing 
 the ford on horseback. The evening of the third 
 day, which he swore to himself should be the last 
 of his inactivity, Wentworth took the early watch
 
 252 THE RED PAPER 
 
 from eight to twelve. Nothing broke the silence 
 save the swish of the risen gulf- wind; nothing met 
 his vision save the now familiar landscape lying 
 broad and clear, drenched in the light of a. full, 
 southern moon. 
 
 At midnight he returned to camp in a decided ill 
 humor, staked out his horse, and brought in Harper s, 
 which was already saddled for instant mounting. 
 Quietly routing out the deputy, he fell into his place 
 and went instantly to sleep. Thorp did not stir; 
 he was to go on at four o clock. 
 
 Harper stretched himself, got into his saddle and, 
 riding over the moonlit ford, took his station on the 
 rising ground beyond, and there sat motionless. 
 He could see a mile or more to the south, and if 
 anything came over the trail he would have ample 
 time to ride in and arouse the others. An hour 
 passed. Harper found he was nodding. 
 
 He pulled himself together, and determined to 
 keep himself awake by smoking; but on feeling his 
 pocket he discovered he had no cigars. Deciding 
 to return and get a supply from the pack, he splashed 
 back through the ford; then, thinking he might 
 disturb the others by approaching on horseback, he 
 tied his mount to a shin-oak near the bank of the 
 river and walked silently into camp. Wentworth 
 woke as Harper came in. "See anything?" he 
 asked. 
 
 "Not a thing, " was the whispered answer. "Came
 
 AT THE FORD 253 
 
 in to get some weeds." The young man swore and 
 rolled over, composing himself for another nap. 
 
 Harper had been away from his post twenty 
 minutes. Obtaining the cigars he started back to 
 his horse, and, as he came to within a hundred feet 
 of where he had tied the animal, he saw a mounted 
 man halted beside it, a black figure silhouetted 
 against the bright sky. 
 
 "Stop where ye be, stranger!" said the horseman 
 in a low voice; and a revolver glistened in the moon 
 light. 
 
 Harper halted abruptly. 
 
 "Who are you?" he demanded, letting his hand 
 go to his hip. 
 
 "Quit that, friend! I only wants to know if you 
 have seen an ambulance with two men and a woman 
 cross the ford to-day. I m Deputy Sheriff Folger, 
 of Kendall County. Stand just where ye be, an 
 answer." 
 
 At that moment Wentworth, alert to anything 
 unusual, thought he heard voices. He sat up and 
 rubbed his eyes, then throwing aside his blanket 
 got to his feet and walked out toward the ford. As 
 he caught sight of the _two men he quickened his 
 pace; he was probably a third of his way from camp 
 as Harper answered the man on horseback. 
 
 "If you are an officer you needn t fear me. I m 
 a deputy, myself," returned Harper. "I m looking 
 for that same ambulance."
 
 2,54 THE RED PAPER 
 
 "Oh! Ye be, hey? Come up closer. Be ye 
 alone?" 
 
 "You see I am alone!" said Harper, stepping 
 toward the man, his suspicions allayed. But I 
 have He never finished the sentence, for at 
 that moment the stranger caught sight of Wentworth 
 coming rapidly toward them. 
 
 Alone, be ye? Ye liar!" he shouted, half-turning 
 his horse. With that exclamation he leveled his 
 revolver and fired. 
 
 Harper s right arm jerked straight out; he spun 
 around and, with a bubbling groan, fell to the grass. 
 As he went down the horseman raised his weapon 
 and fired a shot at Wentworth, but without effect; 
 then he jerked free the rein of Harper s horse, and, 
 wheeling, drove back through the ford with the 
 captured animal. 
 
 All this happened in an instant, and all fell 
 under the eye of Wentworth. Not knowing the 
 conditions beyond the fact that his friend was shot 
 and himself fired at, he drew his own revolver, and 
 deliberately kneeling on the dew-covered prairie 
 leveled at the retreating figure, holding the weapon 
 with both hands as though it were a gun, and 
 fired. 
 
 In the clear light he saw the man sway in his saddle, 
 but the fellow did not lose his seat; instead, he 
 turned and fired again at Wentworth, that shot, like 
 the former, going wild. Harper s horse, now cast
 
 loose, went tearing back over the plain. The stranger 
 fled down the trail and disappeared. 
 
 Aroused by the shots, Thorp came hurrying up, 
 swearing as he ran, and was beside Harper almost 
 as soon as Wentworth. Together they lifted the 
 wounded man, who looked up perfectly conscious. 
 
 "Where are you hit?" cried John in a frenzy of 
 fear. 
 
 "Through the lung right lung high up! The 
 shock of the slug knocked me over! I ought to have 
 had it through the head for being such a forsaken 
 idiot!" 
 
 He spoke without great distress, though weak from 
 shock. "Thank God it s no worse!" said the sheriff. 
 "A clean shot through the right lung isn t the cus- 
 sedness thing that could happen, though that s bad 
 enough! We must get you somewhere at once! 
 Abercrombie s ranch is two miles back, and one up 
 the river. There s no doctor at Comfort, but there 
 is in Boerne a northern man with a sick \vife. 
 Abercrombie s is the best point! I ll fetch the 
 horses. Can you ride?" 
 
 "I ll ride all right, I reckon," said Harper dog 
 gedly, struggling to his feet with the help of Went 
 worth while the sheriff started off on a run. In 
 a few minutes Thorp returned with three horses; 
 Harper, his face pale in the moonlight, leaned heavily 
 on his friend. 
 
 "I found your animal standing with the others,"
 
 256 THE RED PAPER 
 
 said the sheriff. "We ll come back for the pack-horse 
 to-morrow. Can you get up? Yes? Now, then!" 
 
 Together they lifted the wounded man to the 
 saddle. Harper sat without help, and was losing 
 but little blood. 
 
 "Can you tell me what happened?" asked the 
 sheriff as they crossed the ford and moved slowly 
 along. Harper briefly detailed the adventure. 
 
 "Looks queer!" said the other. "No tellin what 
 it means! Horse-rustler, perhaps -except about the 
 ambulance! No! By the Dev ; l in I ell! I see!" 
 he suddenly exclaimed, bringing his hand to his 
 thigh with a resounding slap. "By the Lord, it s 
 Bagshot! He shied at the ford! The fellow was a 
 scout an outrider sent ahead! They were close 
 behind him, and he has turned them aside! I m 
 on to him! Keep straight ahead I ll see you later." 
 
 With that the sheriff put spurs to his horse and 
 dashed off into the moonlit space; the others followed 
 slowly. 
 
 Nearly an hour went by, the wounded man bearing 
 up well though Wentworth was beginning to worry 
 over the long absence of Thorp and the lack of a 
 sign of the ranch-house. He was wondering if by 
 chance he had not become bewildered and taken a 
 wrong direction when he heard the sheriff s shout, 
 and finally saw him, a dark spot on the bright prairie. 
 He was dismounted, and bending over the body of 
 a man stretched on the ground.
 
 AT THE FORD 257 
 
 "You potted your game!" said the sheriff quietly 
 as the two rode up. "I am right! He was their 
 outrider. I went on until I found their wheel-tracks, 
 and followed them until I crossed up with this. I 
 know him! He s Rail Tucker, an old-time rustler 
 and a jail-bird." The man on the ground opened 
 his eyes. "Which way did they go?" demanded 
 the sheriff, bending until his mouth was at the ear 
 of the prostrate outlaw. 
 
 "Up th river round the head," came plainly 
 but feebly from the lips of the man. He was clearly 
 dying. "Curse his soul!" he broke out with fierce 
 ness. "He wouldn t let me in the wagon when 
 he knowed I was plugged for fair! He s a coward!" 
 
 "Is there a woman with them?" asked John, who 
 had dropped from his horse. 
 
 The man nodded. 
 
 "Good gal wanted to help me but oh I ll 
 tell all! They were goin to Kerrsville then to Fort 
 Terrel then oh gimme whiskey! " 
 
 The stimulant was given, and the man revived. 
 "Did did I kill the other feller?" he asked weakly. 
 
 "No only wounded him. He s with us," an 
 swered the sheriff; then to Wentworth he said: 
 "Better go on and get Harper along; he can t stand 
 much more. Abercrombie is only a mile further. 
 You can t miss it. I ll stay till this is over. He s 
 shot through the body, near the heart." 
 
 "Ye are a gentleman, Cave. Ye always was, "
 
 258 THE RED PAPER 
 
 said the wounded man, rolling his eyes. "Treated 
 me white, Cave! I hain t got nothin to say. No 
 prayers nor cuddlin . I ve been tough, but I m all 
 in now!" 
 
 His head drooped. In less than a minute more 
 his whole body seemed suddenly to turn to water, 
 and he slipped through the grasp of the sheriff, w r ho 
 had been supporting him. When they turned him 
 over he was dead. 
 
 As nothing could be done with him they left his 
 body lying where it had fallen, his face to the moon 
 light. 
 
 Capturing his grazing horse, the three went on, 
 Harper still bearing up. As they rode, Thorp 
 pointed to the ground. Here and there on the dew- 
 laden grass could be plainly distinguished the tracks 
 of wheels. 
 
 "By the Lord!" said the sheriff, "we know that 
 the villains are not behind us now. The chase has 
 just begun." 
 
 Soon after they were thundering at the door of 
 the Abercrombie ranch.
 
 CHAPTER XX 
 THE DESERT 
 
 NOT until the doctor had been brought from 
 Boernc, thirty miles away, the hardy 
 Scotch ranch-owner volunteering for the 
 ride, would Wentworth listen to Thorp s importu 
 nities to push on after Bagshot. The heart of the 
 sheriff was now in his professional work, while Went- 
 worth s loyalty to his friend kept him from at once 
 continuing the pursuit. It was when the desperate 
 sheriff at last reminded the young man of his oath 
 as a deputy, and Harper himself had urged him that 
 Wentworth finally consented to go. 
 
 By then the surgeon had dressed the wound and 
 pronounced it trivial to a man of Harper s con 
 stitution and physique, the ball having passed clean 
 through his body at the apex of the lung. The 
 patient would be up in ten days, he said, if he obeyed 
 orders and no complications set in. And Aber- 
 crombie promised the best of nursing. 
 
 But it was fourteen hours before the pursuit was 
 again taken up by Thorp and Wentworth. It was
 
 260 THE RED PAPER 
 
 growing toward evening and the shadows lay long 
 upon the ground when they cleared the limits of 
 the ranch and plunged into what, to the northerner, 
 was an uncharted sea of prairie. So sure was the 
 sheriff that Bagshot would be found in Kerrsville 
 that they traveled with only scanty provision for 
 the future; there was no lead-horse now; they 
 were flying light in both possessions and spirits. 
 
 Even though hours had passed the track of the 
 ambulance had not become entirely obliterated, 
 but led on into a wilderness of space. On the grass 
 the marks of the wheels had disappeared, but they 
 were plain on the patches of sand and where the 
 verdure thinned out patches that grew more and 
 more frequent which were the advance guard of the 
 partial desert away to the west. There had been no 
 rain or sufficient wind to disturb the easily seen ruts. 
 
 For the first ten miles the men rode rapidly and 
 in silence, the trail tending due west and never 
 swerving toward the Guadaloupe. Finally Thorp 
 broke the silence between them. "If they went to 
 Kerrsville the track must trend to the north very 
 soon," he said. "Bagshot now knows we are after 
 him; Rail Tucker opened his eyes to that; so instead 
 of going on to Comfort or crossing the Gaudaloupe 
 by way of the ford where he knows he would be caught, 
 he whips over the plains, hoping to get around us. 
 He may be panicky by this, and shy about going to 
 Kerrsville; perhaps he ll go on to Fort Terrel. If
 
 THE DESERT 261 
 
 he does we ll have him, for all his start. Twenty 
 miles farther on the land is waterless. I see by the 
 track they have four mules to the ambulance, and 
 there is one man on horseback. They sure have 
 grub enough to last them. The only thing that can 
 balk us is lack of water." 
 
 "How far is it to Fort Terrel?" asked John. 
 
 About fifty miles, as the crow flies. It s close 
 to the edge of Crockett County, and water guess 
 work for most of the way. Heaven help the woman, 
 if he s aiming for Terrel." 
 
 Wentworth groaned inwardly. 
 
 "But you will follow?" he asked anxiously. 
 
 There was no doubting the spirit of the answer: 
 "By the Lord! I ll follow them to the coast; and 
 then on into the Pacific, if it is necessary. We can 
 go where they do. I have something at stake here 
 and I have never lost a man on whose trail I once 
 camped." 
 
 Wentworth set his teeth and rode on. That 
 night they slept by a branch of the Guadaloupe, 
 stopping only long enough to rest their horses; 
 then they pushed forward by the light of the moon. 
 As Wentworth lay under the stars, he wondered 
 how it fared with the girl he loved. At what a 
 frightful inconvenience to herself was she being 
 dragged along by those men. How Bagshot must 
 curse her presence, a presence of which he dared 
 not rid himself.
 
 262 THE RED PAPER 
 
 The young man could not know, nor did he guess, 
 that Bagshot was now more afraid of his niece than 
 she was of him. Neither was he aware that his 
 enemy trembled more at the possible consequences 
 of possessing a paper representing fabulous wealth 
 and belonging to another than fear of being charged 
 with a murder which could not be proven. It was 
 not as a murderer he was now fleeing, but as a thief 
 in a country where thieving was looked upon as a 
 greater sin than killing. 
 
 There was but one way out of his dilemma now. 
 His niece should be forced to give him an interest 
 a legal interest in her father s map. To continue 
 to act without it might be his undoing; with it he 
 could face the world could be but shake from his 
 heels the untiring Nemesis who was following him 
 in the shape of old Wentworth s son. 
 
 Fear! It was worse. He must escape from the 
 vampire who kept sleep from his eyes and ease from 
 his heart. Between him and Wentworth law was a 
 mockery. It was war to the knife. He would kill 
 him on sight. 
 
 Bagshot hoped that it had been Wentworth who 
 had been shot down at the ford, but he couldn t be 
 sure; and now he dared not stop at Kerrsville. He 
 decided that if he went on to Fort Terrel he might 
 terrify his niece, who, under suffering, would sign 
 a\vay a part or the whole of her rights. They 
 should not appear valuable to her he would see
 
 THE DESERT 263 
 
 to that. In any event, he would be near the 
 mine. 
 
 In these plans the Mexican concurred. He would 
 have concurred in anything that kept him near the 
 girl, as he would have protested against anything 
 that would have parted them. In the depths of his 
 Latin heart he knew Grace Mcrridale detested him, 
 even though his passion for her had grown to a white 
 heat; but with the line disregard for matters of 
 delicacy characterizing natures such as his, he hoped 
 to be able to wear out her opposition. He had no 
 objections to her sufferings; suffering might break 
 her spirit and make her an easier prey. At all 
 events the longer the route the longer Grace Mer- 
 ridale would be near him. With the veneer of his 
 kind he treated her with exaggerated courtesy, 
 which meant nothing, and really he stood between 
 the maiden and her uncle who now almost hated her. 
 Planet s knowledge of the country a knowledge 
 superior to Bagshot s, made him the present guide of 
 the excursion. 
 
 As for the wounded scout who had been engaged 
 as a fitting aid to the desperate enterprise Bag- 
 shot with an oath had refused his admission to the 
 ambulance; and Planet, who was driving, only 
 shrugged his shoulders to the girl s appeal for the 
 weakening man, and sent his four mules at a break 
 neck pace over the smooth prairie. When the scout 
 finally fell from his horse the difficulty was settled;
 
 264 THE RED PAPER 
 
 dead men told no tales. The mules were kept up 
 at full speed until cursing and the lash no longer 
 affected them. 
 
 All this was unknown to the young man as he 
 lay under the stars, though the knowledge of every 
 detail came later. In the morning he was heavy 
 for want of sleep, and the day broke with a promise 
 of terrific heat, and at an hour when it should have 
 been cool. 
 
 "I don t tumble to this sort of weather!" said 
 Thorp, as he cinched on his saddle after their brief 
 morning meal. "This is away out of plumb with 
 the season, and I reckon it may mean something on 
 the way. How are you this A.M.?" He spoke 
 cheerfully. 
 
 "Rocky," was the short answer. 
 
 "A poor state to start on in and under a hot sun; 
 but there s no time to waste on frills and feelings! 
 Come on. Lord, but the trail is as clear as a rail 
 road track; not a breath of wind to fill their wheel 
 marks! I wonder if they savvy the signal they leave 
 behind!" 
 
 But later even the sheriff became quiet. By then 
 the horses had reduced their speed to a slow walk 
 and urging did not mend matters. Presently there 
 came a little wind, scorching puffs of air that moved 
 the loose sand. It made it harder to keep the guid 
 ing wheel tracks in sight as in places the ruts were 
 smoothed over, and it was only at intervals the
 
 THE DESERT 265 
 
 pursuers could see signs of the wheels they were 
 following. 
 
 This made but little difference to the sheriff. 
 The hope that Bagshot had turned north to Kerrs- 
 ville had long since left him; Kerrsville was now 
 behind, not ahead nor on one side; Bagshot had 
 evidently concluded to take the desperate chance 
 of reaching Fort Terrel. Once there, if menaced 
 he could desert all and plunge into the western 
 wilderness. 
 
 Late in the day the dogged and exhausted pursuers 
 entered a treeless country. Grease-wood and sage- 
 bush took the place of taller growths, and bunches 
 of cacti told of the character of the waste over which 
 they now traveled. Not a water-hole did they 
 find, save two that had dried up; the liquid in Went- 
 worth s canteen was hot and repellent. The two 
 men now rarely spoke, because talking had become 
 a painful effort. Lips and tongues were dry, swollen, 
 and in danger of cracking. 
 
 The night came down blue-black, for the waning 
 moon rose late. 
 
 Wentworth sat dejected; he knew, strong though 
 he was, that another day like that would see him 
 close to his end, while to go back would be as bad as 
 to go on. What were the others doing for water? 
 He asked Thorp. 
 
 "Better off than we be, son," said the sheriff. 
 "They have a cask aboard, if they ain t fools."
 
 266 THE RED PAPER 
 
 "Will they fight if we catch up to them?" 
 
 "Fight? Say, son, do you think any one who is 
 desp rit enough to drive into this hell wouldn t be 
 desp rit enough to fight? Yes, they ll fight, all right 
 -and shoot to kill. You ain t out on no picnic, 
 but this is a traverse I didn t count on. Thought 
 I d have em by this." 
 
 Wentworth relapsed into silence from sheer exhaus 
 tion. His head fell forward, and he slept heavily, 
 dreamlessly. It seemed but a minute before the 
 sheriff touched him. 
 
 "All ready son! The day is breaking!" 
 
 And they went on. Wentworth never forgot that 
 day, neither did he ever remember much of it. By 
 ten o clock the wagon-tracks were lost, only once 
 in a while were there indications of the passing 
 of the outfit. By noon the young man had 
 drained the last drop of the nauseous fluid in his 
 canteen, and which now tasted like nectar; he 
 sucked the neck of the bottle, and was suffering 
 tortures from thirst and the blinding heat of the 
 sun. He turned in desperation to his silent com 
 panion. 
 
 "I would give all I have for a drink of cold 
 water! I would give all I own to wallow in the 
 gutter-slush of New York! Slush filthy snow 
 water!" 
 
 He reeled in his saddle; his head felt big to the 
 bursting-point, and the heat of the blasting, un-
 
 THE DESERT 267 
 
 dimmed sun felt like a weight he was carrying. He 
 tore the hat from his head. 
 
 "Shut up, sir!" said the sheriff fiercely in a thick 
 voice. "Put on that hat! Never talk water, nor 
 even think water in the desert. We ought to 
 hit Paintrock Creek in ten miles, if you keep 
 going." 
 
 "Ten miles! Ten thousand miles! I think I see a 
 lake! Look!" 
 
 Wentworth s mind was beginning to fail. 
 
 " Mirage !" grunted the other. Wentworth laughed 
 as though he had heard a joke, but his voice was 
 unnatural. He swayed from side to side; but on 
 they went, both faces now swollen terribly, while 
 the Northerner s was blistered; his eyes were 
 half-closed. He looked about him, but his vision 
 wandered. 
 
 Presently he dimly wondered how his horse could 
 keep on going without a head, and why the land had 
 turned to melted brass. He wanted to ask Thorp 
 about it, but something was the matter with his 
 throat and tongue. He felt he was going blind, 
 but he didn t care. He was already deaf, for he 
 failed to hear the sheriff shout at him, nor did 
 he see Thorp wave his arms and point to the 
 north. 
 
 He came to himself with a start. The sheriff s 
 arm was round him the sheriff s canteen was at 
 his lips, and there was a flavor of whiskey in his
 
 268 THE RED PAPER 
 
 mouth. He looked round bewildered, but now 
 quite sane, to find himself seated on the sand. 
 
 "Thank Heaven!" said Thorp, as he saw the light 
 come back to Wentworth s eye. "I thought you 
 were a goner for fair when you fell off your hoss! 
 Think you can make a stagger at riding again? 
 It is certain death to stay here!" "I ll try," said 
 the young man feebly. "I I didn t know I was so 
 weak." 
 
 "Weak! There ain t one in a thousand tender 
 foots that could a stood out yesterday, let alone 
 to-day! Say, we ain t going to be cussed by heat 
 and a lack of water for long. See yonder!" 
 
 The sheriff pointed. Wentworth, who had risen 
 to his feet, looked northward. A level line of 
 dark-blue clouds lay along the horizon; a bank as 
 straight on its upper edge as though it had 
 been ruled. As the still bewildered man stood 
 looking at it the purple curtain advanced per 
 ceptibly. 
 
 "A storm?" 
 
 "A norther," said the sheriff. "This ain t no 
 time of year for northers, they generally come in 
 winter. This is like a thunder storm in January, 
 up North. Heaven knows I m glad to see it but 
 we may curse it yet. Ever see a norther?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 Thorp made no reply. It was still horribly hot 
 as he assisted Wentworth into the saddle; but the
 
 THE DESERT 269 
 
 latter s head was comparatively clear, thanks to the 
 generosity of his companion, for Thorp had given 
 his deputy the last drop of his water. But then, 
 there was the coming norther. The sheriff knew 
 what that would be likely to mean.
 
 CHAPTER XXI 
 THE NORTHER 
 
 IT was thirty minutes later when Wentworth, 
 his thirst again acute, felt the first puff of 
 wind from the face of the coming tempest. 
 As if touched by an electric wire, the drooping man 
 straightened himself and took a deep breath. The 
 clouds, inky in color, had climbed high, and were 
 coming on like a cavalry charge. To the north the 
 land was already black, but the air had suddenly 
 grown strangely cool. 
 
 Wentworth had hardly time to turn to the sheriff, 
 when a wind came that scooped up the sand and 
 sent it dancing over the plain and rattling in the 
 dried grass. The blast was cold fairly icy to his 
 fevered body but it was unspeakably grateful. The 
 horses lifted their heads to its breath. In an 
 instant later the sun seemed to hiss as it met the 
 line of inky clouds, and went out. The change 
 from heat to cold from light to shade had been 
 phenomenal. 
 
 There is no deliberation in a Texas norther. It 
 270
 
 THE NORTHER 271 
 
 is the embodiment of force, being nothing less than 
 a gigantic convulsion of nature, tragic in aspect and 
 often in results. Wentworth s body, relaxed by the 
 intense heat, was soon chilled, and his teeth were 
 chattering. The air was no longer pleasant save to 
 breathe, and it was blowing violently. 
 
 John reached for the coat strapped to his cantle 
 and put it on, glad of its warmth; and had no sooner 
 done so than the force of the tempest broke in a 
 deluge of hail and rain that roared as it fell, the 
 wind driving in a furious blast that sent the ice 
 bounding along the ground like a stream of spent 
 bullets. 
 
 Nothing alive could face it. Without regard to 
 their rider s efforts, the horses turned tail to the 
 hurricane and drifted helplessly southward; the men, 
 with their shoulders hunched and hats drawn low, 
 crouching under the volley that smote them. Both 
 were drenched; talking was impossible; the noise of 
 the wind was terrific; the plains were as dark as 
 though the sun had set. 
 
 But Wentworth was alive at last; he was not yet 
 numbed. As the first blast lessened in force, he slid 
 from his saddle and, scooping up great handfuls 
 of hailstones from the ground, crammed them into 
 his mouth, crunching them with frenzied delight. 
 The sheriff saw him, and was at his side in an 
 instant. 
 
 "Stop it!" he roared above the clamor of the
 
 272 THE RED PAPER 
 
 wind. "I don t want a madman on my hands. 
 Go easy; you ll be cold enough before long. The 
 worst is coming." 
 
 And worse did come. 
 
 The hail ceased as suddenly as it had begun, but 
 the wind did not slacken. The air grew colder 
 and colder, the sky darker; the very land seemed to 
 crimp. The bitter gale drove the rain in horizontal 
 lines, which blinded the eyes when faced; the horses 
 resisted all attempts to turn them, and still went 
 toward the south. Both men were sluicing water 
 from their bodies and shivering even more than 
 shivering; the cold shriveled their vitality; the 
 change had been terrific. 
 
 Lower and lower fell the temperature. Soon the 
 rain froze as it struck, and Wentworth marked a 
 fringe of small icicles on the broad rim of his hat; a 
 film of ice lay on the iron shoe of his Winchester, and 
 he heard the crash of ice-crusted grass under the 
 feet of his horse. His fingers were stiff; he was 
 becoming numbed in body and mind. He no longer 
 thirsted, but he was unutterably miserable; the hail 
 had made his throat feel as though he had swallowed 
 acid. The sheriff guided his horse to the young 
 man s side. 
 
 "No flesh and blood can stand this much longer," 
 he yelled. "Heaven knows where we are now, but 
 we ve got to hit some sort of shelter before long. 
 Wind, rain, or hell, we ve got to pull west for the
 
 THE NORTHER 273 
 
 Paintrock, or leave our bones here. We ll freeze 
 to death afore midnight!" 
 
 "How will the river help us?" asked John at the 
 top of his voice. 
 
 "I know an abandoned post there, raided by the 
 Apaches twenty years ago, and part of the place 
 may be yet standing. It s our only hope. I wish 
 I knowed if we were north or south of the trail. 
 What s that?" 
 
 He pointed through the deepening gloom to a 
 clump of cacti not ten feet away, on the edge of 
 which something white was violently fluttering in 
 the gale. John s languid attention was turned to 
 it. The sheriff got stiffly from his hor^e and pulled 
 the rag from the thorns on which it hung. 
 
 "It s a gal s handkerchief for a thousand dollars!" 
 he shouted. "See here!" 
 
 He held it up to Wentworth. The half-frozen 
 man took the wet linen in his numbed fingers. It 
 was surely a handkerchief a lady s handkerchief 
 torn by hard usage, and in one corner were embroid 
 ered the letters "G. M." 
 
 The sheriff fairly whooped as Wentworth read 
 them aloud. 
 
 "Blowed from the ambulance!" he shouted. 
 " Tis a regular lighthouse an marks we be south 
 of their track! Come on! Shut your eyes and use 
 spurs. We got to get west, anyhow!" 
 
 He climbed back into his saddle with renewed
 
 274 THE RED PAPER 
 
 energy and mercilessly dug his long spurs into the 
 sides of his exhausted horse. And so they went 
 west, keeping their animals across the icy blast by 
 dint of rowel and shout. They no longer walked, 
 but struck a pace that increased the suffering of both 
 man and beast. 
 
 The rain cut and froze, but the iron sheriff led 
 the way with head down. Unconsciously Went- 
 worth had drifted southward, but was still near 
 enough to his companion to see him haul up sud 
 denly on the top of a divide, then slip from his saddle. 
 He urged his horse to the sheriff and dismounted. 
 
 "They are yonder!" said Thorp, with his mouth 
 to his companion s ear. "By God, we have caught 
 them! We win! The river is less than half a mile 
 away, and we have struck the old station. They 
 are in it. Picket your horse back in the hollow. 
 Quick!" 
 
 With a sudden access of something like warmth, 
 W T entworth obeyed; then he followed the sheriff, 
 who, on foot and crouched low, made for the next 
 swell of ground. At its top Thorp fell flat. Went- 
 worth followed suit and poked his head over the rise. 
 
 In the distance he saw a line of straggling trees, 
 their outlines blotted by darkness and rain; but 
 nearer, and not two hundred feet away, were the ruins 
 of the old post. Of what had been three or four 
 adobe buildings, there was but one left standing 
 with a roof. To this was a single doorless entrance
 
 THE NORTHER 275 
 
 that faced the two watchers. A corner of the dilap 
 idated structure had been battered in, leaving a 
 yawning hole, and from it there issued a line of smoke 
 which was caught by the wind and driven south 
 ward along the ground. In the lee of the structure 
 was drawn up the ambulance; and between it and 
 the wall of the house were four mules and a horse, 
 all in the last stages of exhaustion. It was too dark 
 to distinguish further details. 
 
 "There they be! There they be! And with a fire! 
 All comfortable!" said Thorp, seizing Wentworth s 
 arm. "Have you the pluck to follow me right 
 now? 
 
 "Go on, and I ll show you," was the quick but 
 calm reply. 
 
 "Got your gun handy?" 
 
 "My revolver? Yes." 
 
 "This ain t no place for rifles. It s going to be 
 close work. I d rather wait till pitch-dark, but we 
 can t stand it. Are you ready now?" 
 
 "Go on," was the terse answer. Wentworth was 
 no longer cold in body; his fingers had but little 
 feeling, but the blood was coursing through his 
 veins. Thorp crept back, Wentworth close behind 
 him. 
 
 Once sheltered from view, they walked northward 
 into the blast. When well above the building and 
 out of possible observation from the door, they 
 breasted the divide and cut across well to windward.
 
 270 THE RED PAPER 
 
 Presently they were under the black wall of the house. 
 The wind, howling like a thousand devils round the 
 angles of the shack, drowned all sounds there might 
 have been within. There was little danger of their 
 approach having been heard.
 
 CHAPTER XXII 
 IN THE HUT 
 
 W r ITH drawn revolvers, the sheriff and his 
 deputy stole to the front of the house, 
 shoulder to shoulder, and thus they came 
 to the door. The two looked in. 
 
 The interior made a dramatic setting for the action 
 that was to come. 
 
 Across the single apartment from the edge of the 
 doorway was drawn a blanket hung from a rope 
 stretched from wall to wall, which, in effect, divided 
 the space into two rooms. 
 
 In one burned a low fire built on the ground near 
 the ragged rent in the building, its light fairly bring 
 ing out the rough adobe slabs and the pole rafters 
 of the roof. Near it, seated on a rubber poncho 
 spread on the earth, sat Grace Merridale, her eyes 
 pensively gazing into the flames, her very attitude 
 expressing extreme dejection. Her bright hair hung 
 in wet masses down her back, and, touched by the 
 firelight, it glinted like gold. 
 
 277
 
 278 THE RED PAPER 
 
 A pile of grease-wood was stacked in a comer, 
 left probably by some former camper. Otherwise 
 the place was barren of every comfort, though two 
 or three packs were near the lire. 
 
 The two men hesitated for an instant. The girl 
 with the profile of her sad face toward the door, did 
 not see them. Wentworth. devouring her with his 
 eyes, made no attempt to enter the firelight space; 
 he turned his attention to the dark area beyond the 
 blanket. 
 
 Both men knew their quarry was in that part of 
 the building. Were they sleeping from exhaustion? 
 Could they be surprised? The mental question that 
 Wentworth put to himself was answered on the 
 instant. 
 
 Bagshot and Planet were there, wrapped in blankets. 
 The Mexican was asleep, but the greater villain 
 was wide-awake. His brain was active too ac 
 tive. 
 
 Not that he now feared pursuit; he was sure that 
 his wisdom in changing his course and not going to 
 Kerrsville had bewildered anyone who might have 
 attempted to follow; he had hardly taken into 
 account the marks of his wagon tracks, less the 
 possibility of his slain scout having been found before 
 he died, and still less the dogged determination of 
 the man whom he knew had his capture in view. 
 And certainly, beside all else, no one could follow 
 him through such a storm. To make his mind
 
 IN THE HUT 27<) 
 
 easier Fort Terrel was now within easy striking 
 distance; once there he would arrange matters 
 anew. 
 
 But the continued presence of his niece had become 
 a separate problem, and one to be solved at once. 
 Also Planet, who was plainly in love with her, who 
 openly took her part and would protect her interest, 
 must be taken into consideration. He was wonder 
 ing if it would not be wise to at once get up and have 
 a talk with the girl on the other side of the screen- 
 while Planet was unconscious and could have noth 
 ing to say. He would promise an immediate return 
 to civilization, obtain her signature to her release 
 of the red paper and keep as much of his promise 
 as was convenient to him. Planet might then go 
 to the devil, where he belonged. He was actually 
 considering how to open the conversation, how 
 best to wheedle the lady into compliance with his 
 plan, when to his consternation, the square of the 
 doorless entrance was blocked by the figures of two 
 men, showing against the faint sky. 
 
 At first Bagshot recognized neither, and thought 
 that some wanderers like themselves had been caught 
 in the norther and were seeking shelter; but as the 
 slowly dying fire leaped into temporary strength 
 its light struck full on the face of Wentworth, and 
 with something like horror Bagshot became aware 
 of the fact that he had not shaken off the man he 
 hated the only one he really feared. He guessed
 
 280 THE RED PAPER 
 
 at once that his companion was an officer of the 
 law. The blow had fallen \vhen least expected. 
 But he would meet it; his determination was auto 
 matic. 
 
 Simeon Bagshot was no physical coward though 
 he was a moral beast. He knew he had not yet 
 been seen, and that the time for the settlement of 
 many things had come, bringing him the advantage 
 of position. Slowly shifting his hand to his hip, 
 he drew his revolver and, getting to a sitting posi 
 tion, deliberately aimed at the center of the loom of 
 Wentworth s body and fired. In the dark the spurt 
 of flame seemed to reach from man to man. 
 
 For Wentworth it was a fortuitous shot. The 
 forty-five caliber ball struck the revolver he held 
 in his right hand struck it on the sharp edge of the 
 cartridge chamber and thus saved the young man s 
 life. 
 
 The bullet split under the impact, one-half flying 
 upward, the other outward and downward and 
 lodging in Thorp s thigh. The force of the blow 
 drove the weapon from John s numbed fingers as 
 though it had been struck with a club. 
 
 The sheriff fell to one knee with a curse, and, 
 leveling at the location of the flash, instantly re 
 turned the shot, the ball passing into Bagshot s 
 abdomen. 
 
 Uttering a yell of agony, the latter sprang to his 
 feet; and this time, with unsteady aim, fired direct
 
 IN THE HUT 281 
 
 at Thorp, who on the explosion, dropped his weapon 
 and fell forward on his face. 
 
 From then on the time of action might be measured 
 in fractions of a minute. 
 
 With the delivery of his second shot, and seeing 
 one of his victims down, Bagshot again drew a bead 
 on John; but, a terrific paroxysm of pain seizing 
 him, he half-doubled himself as he again fired 
 and missed. Not knowing the defenseless con 
 dition of his enemy, and frenzied by the pain of his 
 own wound, the now demoralized outlaw ran wildly 
 for the hole in the wall, tearing down the hanging 
 blanket in his flight. In a second he was across the 
 apartment. Passing close to the now shrieking girl, 
 he struck her down; and. leaping over the fire, 
 disappeared into the storm without. So rapid had 
 been the action, so stunning the effect of the four 
 explosions in the narrow interior, that for a brief 
 instant Wentworth was dazed. He was conscious 
 of three things, however that he was disarmed, 
 that Thorp had fallen, and that Bagshot had escaped. 
 Temporarily he saw and thought nothing of the 
 girl; but as he stooped to recover his revolver, 
 which he found at his feet, he became aware of the 
 presence of Planet. 
 
 That individual, awakened from his always light 
 slumber by the crash of firearms, jumped up, throw 
 ing aside his blanket, the cover falling on his revolver- 
 hanger, which he had left aside for ease of body as
 
 282 THE RET) PAPER 
 
 he slept. The only part of the situation it was 
 necessary for him to know he comprehended at 
 once. 
 
 The fire now illuminated the entire apartment; 
 and by its light, feeble though it was, he recognized 
 Wentworth as that young man began to straighten 
 himself from picking up his weapon. He saw the 
 revolver in his enemy s hand, and, being himself 
 unarmed save for the knife in his belt, he had but 
 an instant to act. Instead of losing time by getting 
 his own revolver, or wasting himself by rushing on 
 Wentworth, he drew the steel, threw back his arm, 
 and hurled the blade at the stooping man. 
 
 As a knife-thrower, Planet was well-nigh an expert; 
 and had the light been better, or had he not been 
 agitated by the suddenness of the attack, his act 
 would have been fatal to Wentworth. As it was, 
 the steel barely missed the head it was aimed at; 
 it passed close to the young man s left ear, chipped 
 the adobe with its point, and, glancing from the wall, 
 fell to the ground near the fire. 
 
 It was followed up by the body of Planet, who 
 hurled himself over the space separating him from 
 his enemy. 
 
 Wentworth had only time to pull the trigger of 
 his weapon and hear the harmless click of the hammer 
 on the chamber which had been knocked out of gear 
 by Bagshot s shot, when the Mexican was upon him. 
 Casting aside the useless firearm, he met the assault,
 
 283 
 
 and in an instant the two men came together for the 
 third time now in an embrace that each knew 
 meant death for one of them. 
 
 Had Wentworth s state been normal the Mexican 
 would have had no chance with him; but through 
 the extremes of heat and cold through thirst, 
 exposure, and lack of rest he was far from being 
 in his usual form. In fact, the physical relations of 
 the two were almost reversed. 
 
 Planet was acclimated inured. He had only 
 suffered sharp inconvenience from the storm, and 
 had hardly backed a horse during the entire trip. 
 Therefore, the brute strength of the two men was 
 now about equal, while the agility of the Mexican 
 was superior. 
 
 In a moment the pair were whirling and staggering 
 around the hut. Neither uttered a word. It was 
 a silent fight. Each snatched at the other s throat, 
 and each made good his defense; but neither could 
 break from the hold of the other. 
 
 Three times they circled the place, narrowly 
 escaping a fall over the body of the sheriff, who lay 
 prone on the ground. The hot breaths of the two 
 contestants intermingled and came in gasps. The 
 lire described wild circles as they whirled, tottered, 
 and recovered; neither yet had the advantage. 
 
 Wentworth knew himself to be weakening. The 
 supple form of the Mexican was like tightened wire 
 under his hands. He could neither catch a firm grip
 
 284 THE RED PAPER 
 
 on the sinuous throat, nor break from his tenacious 
 grasp. This could not last. 
 
 Their feet became entangled in the folds of the 
 fallen blanket, and the struggling men went heavily 
 to the ground not five feet from the lire, but within 
 reach of the knife Planet had cast. There was a 
 confused thrashing of legs and bodies for a few 
 seconds, and when it ceased Planet was astride Went- 
 w r orth s chest, one lean hand had him by the throat, 
 and the other was stretched for the knife which he 
 reached, grasped and lifted aloft for the final blow, 
 but in a state of desperation Wentworth managed 
 to grasp the wrist of the hand holding the descending 
 blade. 
 
 The grip of the Mexican was too feeble to throttle 
 the under man at once, and with the arrest of his 
 hand there came a test of strength and endurance 
 between the two men, with Planet in the better 
 position. 
 
 Wentworth felt his power of resistence fast ebb 
 ing but he still managed to hold off the knife, 
 giving over all other efforts as useless. It seemed 
 a matter of a few seconds when he must suc 
 cumb. 
 
 Slowly, but surely, lower and lower came the 
 steel, and the muscles of both men trembled under 
 the strain. Wentworth s face was set and white; 
 once he groaned. Planet s expression was diabolical;
 
 IN THE HUT 285 
 
 his teeth showed in a grin of desperation; his black 
 eyes shone as he felt his final triumph. 
 
 And the end of John Wentworth would have 
 come then had it not been for the girl. Recovering 
 from the shock of her overthrow by Bagshot, and the 
 crash of the shots, she had shrunk into a corner as 
 the two men tottered around the cabin. She did 
 not know the cause of the assault; if she thought 
 anything, it was that the party had been attacked 
 by desperadoes bent on robbery or worse, so far 
 as she was concerned. She considered Planet as 
 acting in her defense as well as his own, and her 
 hopes went out for him. 
 
 It was not until after the fall of the two that she 
 realized what it all meant. As the Mexican snaked 
 himself from the loosened grasp of Wentworth, 
 swung into his position astride the other, and grasped 
 the knife, Grace Merridale saw the upturned and 
 hopeless face of her lover now brought out clearly 
 by the light from the lire. 
 
 The sight paralyzed her, and even the slowly 
 descending blade failed at once to arouse her ener 
 gies, but in a moment the woman in her arose supe 
 rior to the conditions; strength and purpose came to 
 iier in a rush. At that instant she was a lioness, 
 , nd with a shrill but inarticulate cry she sprang to 
 the (ire, pulled out a flaming brand and thrust it 
 into the face of the triumphing Mexican.
 
 286 THE RED PAPER 
 
 Planet started back with a scream though without 
 entirely losing his seat astride of his prostrate enemy. 
 However, the shock and pain of the fire did cause 
 him to relax the pressure of his right arm, for the 
 moment giving Wentworth the opportunity he 
 sorely needed. As Planet drew away from the brand, 
 with a desperate thrust of his body Wentworth 
 threw off his opponent, and without letting go of 
 the hand holding the knife he pinned the man on 
 his side, and changing the direction of the point of 
 the blade, shoved it from him. 
 
 Unable to avoid the blow Planet s head fell back 
 and the point of the knife entered his throat; he 
 suddenly relaxed all effort, tried to speak, rolled 
 over, flung out his arms and lay still. When Went 
 worth finally got to his feet the Mexican was dead; 
 the knife had severed his jugular vein. 
 
 Like one aroused from a terrific dream the victor 
 stood looking at the motionless body, his chest 
 heaving; he could scarcely stand as he turned to 
 the woman who had saved his life and for whom he 
 felt he had suffered all things. As their eyes met a 
 common impulse seized them and the next instant 
 the two were in close embrace. Not a word had 
 been spoken, but the girl broke into a storm of sobs. 
 Wentworth was breathing like an engine. 
 
 "Oh! I did not know I did not think- did 
 not even dare to hope you would come!" said
 
 IN THE HUT 2S7 
 
 the girl after the first gust of her emotion had 
 passed. 
 
 "You must know what I owe you," said Went- 
 worth, when he could speak. "I mean my life. I 
 offered it to you in the Alamo and gathered that you 
 accepted it. And I have been literally through lire 
 and water to offer it again. Will you keep it?" 
 
 There was no verbal answer, nor did the man 
 need one. "It is a serious and dramatic wooing," 
 he went on. "It has been tragic all along. God 
 knows I have earned you, if a man ever earned a 
 woman. And I have been sorely stricken for now 
 I have lost a stanch friend the sheriff who made 
 this day possible and without whom I could not be 
 here." 
 
 They were standing near the body of Planet. 
 The girl raised her white face to his. "Oh, my 
 dear "she began, but she was interrupted by a 
 voice from behind them. 
 
 "Easy, my lady! I am not out of the fight, son! 
 Would you mind giving me some of your attention?" 
 
 Wentworth swung himself around as though he 
 had heard a shot. The sheriff had drawn himself 
 up and was sitting propped against the door-post, 
 blood streaming down his face. The young man 
 ran to him, his own weakness forgotten. "Thank 
 God for this!" he exclaimed. "I thought you 
 dead!"
 
 288 THE RED PAPER 
 
 "I m off a little from that, I reckon," was the 
 grim reply. I hate to break up your side-shov/, 
 son, but I ve cinched a busted head and a busted 
 leg; they have got to be considered. "Drag me to 
 the fire; I m fair freezing."
 
 CHAPTER XXIII 
 NEMESIS 
 
 HALF an hour later the hut was bright with 
 flame from a heap of wood thrown on the 
 lire. The body of Planet had been pulled 
 from the building, and Wentworth was working over 
 the wounded sheriff. 
 
 "It is a nasty clip," he said. "The bullet cut 
 a swath through your scalp, just grazing the top 
 of your skull. It was a close squeak, Thorp; but 
 you were stunned, that s all. You ll have a welt 
 to match your father s, after this; but it is not half 
 so serious a blow. The cold has almost stopped the 
 bleeding. Let s see the leg." He cut away the 
 blood-stained trousers and washed the wound from 
 the bucket that had been brought in. 
 
 "Why, I can feel the lead with my finger!" ex 
 claimed John joyously a moment later. "I ll cut 
 it out to-morrow. It isn t more than an inch 
 under the surface. You can back a horse in three 
 days." 
 
 289
 
 290 THE RED PAPER 
 
 "Then I guess I ll pull through," said Thorp. 
 "Were you hurt?" 
 
 "Not a scratch or only scratches thanks to 
 Miss Merridale. It has been providential." 
 
 "I reckon, son, we can thank the lady for pretty 
 much all of this traverse," said the sheriff, with a 
 touch of humor in his weak voice. "Leastwise, 
 I have a right to judge so from what I ve seen." 
 
 Wentworth smiled. "You don t have to be a 
 Solon," he said, as he looked at the girl who was 
 busy tearing a white skirt into strips. 
 
 "So? And that s what gave you the sand to go 
 through with the business, isn t it?" 
 
 "I deny nothing." 
 
 "It wouldn t alter my mind if you did, son. Your 
 trail is pretty well marked. Where s Bagshot?" 
 
 Wentworth started. "By Heavens, I had about 
 forgotten him!" he exclaimed. "He ran out after 
 he shot you." 
 
 "But not till I hit him that I ll swear. You 
 bet he won t run far. You know what I came for 
 if you had another object. Better look him up. 
 Carry my gun, and don t take any risks." 
 
 But there was now little risk in dealing with Simeon 
 Bagshot. Wentworth found him several rods from 
 the house, rolling on the ground in agony for in 
 the catalogue of human sufferings nothing surpasses 
 the pain of a wound in the abdomen.
 
 NEMESIS 291 
 
 Bagshot could not rise, nor could the young man 
 lift and carry the big body, but he dragged him to 
 the house and laid him by the fire, the wounded man 
 groaning and cursing in the same breath. When 
 he was brought in the girl recoiled from him, retiring 
 to the far end of the cabin where the sheriff had been 
 laid and covered with blankets. Wentworth pro 
 ceeded to look for the wound. He found, it a dark 
 blue hole, and a glance told the young man that the 
 hurt would prove fatal; it took no experience to 
 determine that. And there was nothing that could 
 be done for the moaning sufferer. 
 
 But the wound in the abdomen was not all that 
 Wentworth found. Around the body of the helpless 
 man was a money-belt, and with it its discoverer 
 proceeded to make free while his old enemy looked 
 at him, his eyes filled with impotent anger. The 
 searcher knew what he was looking for and was not 
 in the least surprised when he came upon the red 
 paper the cause of all his trouble wrapped in 
 oiled silk. Beside this were several hundred dollars 
 in money which Wentworth returned to the belt 
 and laid in Bagshot s hand, though that individual 
 did not seem to notice it. For his eyes were on the 
 young man as he unrolled the oiled silk wrapper, 
 and their expression was sinister enough as the paper 
 was refolded and Wentworth placed it in his own 
 pocket. This dcmc he covered his fallen enemy
 
 292 THE RED PAPER 
 
 with a blanket and returned his attention to the 
 sheriff. 
 
 After a series of intermittent contortions, con 
 tinuing for upward of an hour and during which 
 time Bagshot cursed, groaned and demanded whiskey 
 he suddenly spoke rationally, and his voice had 
 lost the tension caused by acute suffering. "There!" 
 he said, shifting his big body. "I m better. The 
 tearing has stopped." 
 
 Wentworth went over him, bent down and took 
 his pulse, then shook his head as he spoke to the man. 
 "I expected this. You are dying, Mr. Bagshot," 
 he said, looking down on the pinched face, and well 
 aware of the meaning of the sudden cessation of 
 pain. 
 
 "The hell I am!" 
 
 "It would be useless to deny it, as it would be use 
 less to say I regret it. You brought this on to 
 yourself, sir. If you have anything to say you had 
 better say it at once." 
 
 "You are a damned cheerful kind of a raven to 
 come croaking around me! Don t try to scare me, 
 sir; you haven t been able to do it yet." 
 
 "I have no desire to do more than speak the truth 
 to you at this time, Mr. Bagshot. And you would 
 do well to do the same." 
 
 "Oh, I m on to you!" was the reply. "You 
 look for me to confess killing your father. You
 
 NEMESIS 
 
 think I murdered him. Well, I didn t but I came 
 near it, damn you both!" 
 
 "You were with him that night?" Wentworth 
 bent forward to catch the answer, for the man s 
 voice was growing feeble. 
 
 "Yes, I was with him Planet and me. Where s 
 Planet?" 
 
 "You will join him shortly," said Wentworth, 
 lowering his voice, Bagshot gasped as if a sudden 
 realization of the truth had come to him. 
 
 "My God! I believe you are right! I ll tell 
 Heaven s truth about it. I got there right after 
 you left. We rang the bell, and your father came 
 to the door and let us in. We went back to the 
 library. You know what we went for. 
 
 "Your father cursed us both; he was awfully 
 excited. He made me mad. I got him by the 
 throat to make him tell where the map was, but 
 didn t hardly toikh him when he fell. I thought he 
 had fainted, and I tried to bring him to with ice 
 and water from the pitcher; but I soon knew he was 
 dead. We were in a fix. 
 
 "I didn t dare call any one, but I ransacked the 
 drawers and his clothes. Then Planet funked, got 
 scared; so we went out the way \vc came in. You 
 see, I didn t kill him. Your murder theory was all 
 wrong, and I knew it." 
 
 "You did kill him, for all your story," returned
 
 294 THE RED PAPER 
 
 John, keeping down his resentment in the presence 
 of death. "You brought on the attack that ended 
 my father s life, and you were his murderer at heart. 
 You would have robbed him. You had already 
 ruined his life by a lie the lie on which you traded 
 and blackmailed. Captain Wentworth committed 
 no crime, and you knew it. I know it now for I 
 have met the man my father struck while a mere 
 boy. He knows you. It was Thorp Bud Thorp. 
 His son lies yonder the sheriff of Bexar County. 
 You wounded him, but not seriously, thank God! 
 And it was he who shot you; not I." 
 
 Bagshot opened wide his eyes. "Hell!" he ex 
 claimed. "It s all up to Shearpole! Why did he 
 let you go? He promised to hold you." 
 
 "He didn t let me go. I know him for the rascal 
 that he is! I escaped and was hidden in the boat 
 that took you ashore. You robbed me, and would 
 have robbed your niece, had your plans carried. 
 You have been a living lie most of your life -a 
 common thief and a murderer in purpose. May 
 Heaven forgive, for as yet I cannot. You are dying. 
 Do you want anything?" 
 
 Later Wentworth wished he had revised this 
 speech before he made it. It seemed heartless, on 
 mature thought, but at that time he was full of his 
 wrongs, and his passionate hate for the man before 
 him overbore what charity he possessed.
 
 Bagshot lay still for a moment, apparently looking 
 at the ragged wall of the room. Outside the storm 
 still howled, the rain hissing as it tore along the 
 roof which dripped in a dozen places. Presently 
 the dying man turned his face toward Wentworth; 
 his voice was singularly mild, but his eyes belied his 
 tone. 
 
 "You are right you are right you are right," 
 he repeated softly. "I am dying going out like 
 a shot dog. And you have come out ahead ! Say 
 you ask me if I want anything. Yes but not 
 for long. That paper has been all I have worked 
 for for ten years and more. I married Merri- 
 dale s sister, and she told me of it before she 
 died told me of the old man s find and how to 
 read the map. I worried it out of her. I confess 
 it. I have been a bad man. I wanted money. 
 Don t take the map away from me before I 
 go. I love the feel of it. Let me touch it; 
 let me hold it in my hand. You ll have it al 
 ways. Please please as as you hope for happi 
 ness. " 
 
 The weakening voice and the strange appeal- 
 childish in its nature made the scene pitiful. Went 
 worth looked toward Grace. The girl, who had 
 been listening, was white with sympathy, and her 
 eyes moistened. She nodded. Wentworth put the 
 thin, oiled silk packet in the hand of his enemy. He
 
 296 THE ilED PAPER 
 
 felt he could do no less nor more; it would not be 
 for long. 
 
 The dying man hugged the packet to his breast, 
 cuddling it as a child might have cuddled a favorite 
 doll. It was a moving exhibition of human weak 
 ness, and one which did not increase Wentworth s 
 respect for the abject man. 
 
 For some time Bagshot lay silent, the paper tight 
 in his grasp, his eyes turned to the leaking roof; 
 then he moved his head and looked at his victor. 
 
 You arc a decent sort of a chap, after all!" 
 he said brokenly. "Give me water water." 
 
 Wentworth took the cup he had found in the 
 ambulance, and went outside. The storm was 
 unabated, the rain even heavier, and a stream of 
 water was sluicing from a corner of the dilapidated 
 roof. From this he tilled the cup and was about 
 to return when he was startled by a shout from the 
 sheriff and a scream from the girl. He bounded 
 back into the hut and at once saw the cause of the 
 cry. 
 
 Bagshot, with an access of strength, had rolled 
 close to the fire near which he had been lying, and 
 reaching out, pressed the precious paper into the 
 center of the bed of now glowing embers. The oiled 
 silk cover flashed up like powder and before Went 
 worth could reach the fire and snatch the document 
 from destruction the light paper was consumed, its
 
 NEMESIS 297 
 
 feathery ash, stirred by the effort at rescue, floating 
 up to the roof of the cabin. 
 
 As its total loss was assured Bagshot yelled: 
 "There, damn your lily-colored soul!" and rolled 
 away from the fire, shaking the hand blackened by 
 the heat. "You thought you had me, did you? 
 Get the fortune I ve worked for, if you can! Did 
 YOU think I d be such a fool as to let you have it? 
 
 *> J 
 
 Did you think to get the best of me? I win! I win! 
 You are a callow ass!" 
 
 He wrung his scorched hand, and it was while he 
 was waving it in the air that his arm suddenly fell. 
 The next instant his whole body relaxed and he 
 became unconscious. 
 
 At the last desperate act of the outlaw, and when 
 the loss of the paper was a certainty, Wentworth 
 felt a sense of defeat that was purely personal. II C 
 was tempted to take the triumphant men by the 
 throat and shake the little remaining life from him. 
 And yet he knew he cared nothing for the paper for 
 himself. It had been the object which had started 
 him on his errand of justice, but as a motive for 
 his actions it had long since ceased to be a factor. He 
 turned and looked at the girl, expecting to see an 
 expression of consternation on her face, but to his sur 
 prise she greeted his voiceless question with a smile. 
 
 "It is gone!" he said. "Gone past redemption! 
 There is nothing of it left!"
 
 12<)S THE RED PAPER 
 
 "And then the curse of it has been lifted," she 
 returned quickly, rising and going to him. "Do 
 not be sorry for me. I cared nothing for it save 
 on your account. It has left a trail of violence 
 wherever it went! It has cost more lives than it 
 was worth! Oh, I am glad glad it it gone!" 
 
 "I am more than thankful that you feel this way 
 about it," said Wentworth fervently. "To me it 
 has not been an unmixed curse. I, too, am willing 
 to be glad." 
 
 "But I m most everlastingly sorry," said Thorp 
 from his corner. "We had enough trouble in 
 getting it and it would have been worth millions." 
 
 Wentworth laughed; it was his first laugh for 
 many days. "Only possibly millions in money," 
 he said. "And it has been worth millions to me 
 but in something better than cash." And regardless 
 of the sheriff s presence he passed his arm around 
 the girl s waist and kissed her as she bent over 
 her fast-dying uncle. 
 
 Thorp coughed. "Well," he said, "the lost San 
 Saba mine is still lost, though you have found enough 
 else to console you. But my errand goes for noth 
 ing except a bunged head and a busted leg." 
 
 "Does it?" asked Wentworth, straightening him 
 self. "I think not. You got your man your 
 men." 
 
 "And you your woman," returned the sheriff,
 
 NEMESIS 299 
 
 grimly. "I can see how you feel paid and perhaps 
 I ought to be satisfied." 
 
 "I know I am," said Wentworth. "Under the 
 circumstances I suppose I ought to bless Bagshot 
 for forcing himself into my life as he did, instead 
 of cursing him. And ah, he s gone! May God 
 forgive him!" 
 
 And with that he drew the end of the blanket 
 over the face of his dead enemy.
 
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