m

 
 "I'll go nowhere without a reason'
 
 PLUNDER 
 
 By 
 
 ARTHUR SOMERS ROCHE 
 
 Author of LOOT, etc. 
 
 WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY 
 
 WILL FOSTER 
 
 INDIANAPOLIS 
 
 THE BOBBS-MERRILL COMPANY 
 PUBLISHERS
 
 COPYRIGHTED BY THE CURTIS PUBLISHING COMPANY 
 UNDER THE TITLE A SCRAP OF PAPER 
 
 COPYRIGHT 1917 
 THE BOBBS-MEKRILL COMPANY 
 
 PRI8B OF 
 
 BHAUNWOHTH CO. 
 
 BOOK MANUFACTURERS 
 
 BROOKLYN. N. V.
 
 Sweetheart: 
 
 You laughed because I wouldn't change her 
 name, because I insisted on calling her Kirby 
 Rowland. But if I wanted to draw you, as well 
 as my poor pen might, I saw no reason why I 
 should not, by my heroine's name, tell my read- 
 ers that you were her model. And so the name 
 was kept, the name so like your own. 
 
 But, oh, my dear, I have fallen so far short. 
 One can not, after all, describe the heart. And 
 the you I love is not just the memory of your 
 lovely face, your brave eyes, your merry smile 
 it is the heart of you, the soul of you, that 
 has not gone, that is so near me now. 
 
 2132329
 
 PLUNDER
 
 PLUNDER 
 
 MASTERMAN'S eyes gleamed through his 
 heavy glasses. 
 
 "You've heard me, gentlemen," he said. "I 
 have given you, verbatim, the words of Schloss- 
 felt, the words of MontfoucaulL What's the 
 answer ?" 
 
 Blaisdell and Cardigan looked at each other. 
 Multimillionaires, wielders of titanic power, 
 they shrank in the presence of Masterman. They 
 controlled a country's food supply, a country's 
 fuel supply ; but Masterman was bigger than they 
 Masterman controlled transportation. 
 
 Blaisdell fumbled with his collar. 
 
 "It looks like a pretty big thing," he said nerv- 
 ously. "Too big! I'm pretty well satisfied with 
 things as they are. The United States are big 
 enough for me. I don't know enough about con- 
 ditions abroad " 
 
 I
 
 2 PLUNDER 
 
 "You don't have to," snapped Masterman. 
 "Let Schlossf elt and Montfoucault attend to that ! 
 You, Cardigan?" 
 
 Cardigan was less of a coward than Blaisdell. 
 The latter had inherited his wealth at least, the 
 foundation of it. But Cardigan had begun life 
 as a laborer, and had not entirely lost the burly 
 courage that had made him master of coal. But 
 even Cardigan hesitated. 
 
 "There'll be the devil's own row, Masterman. 
 Have you discounted that?" 
 
 Masterman's smile was contemptuous. 
 
 "Row? Of course there will. But what we 
 do we do with the sanction of the law. And does 
 a man gain a whole world without risk? Have 
 you run no risks in your lives? Faugh! I've 
 said enough. Shall I give Schlossfelt and Mont- 
 foucault the word to go ahead, that we are with 
 them?" 
 
 He was not eloquent; yet no actor, no orator, 
 could have spoken more intently, with greater 
 suggestion of power, of force held in leash. It 
 was as though, having summed up, he left the 
 choice with them, and yet, despite his calm, both
 
 PLUNDER 3 
 
 men knew that they would do as he bade them, 
 not because he would compel them, but because 
 greed and the logic of his position impelled them. 
 
 It was not the first time the subject at issue 
 had been discussed. Many times before had Mas- 
 terman laid the whole project before the two men 
 whom he would have as his allies. But, now, 
 with Schlossfelt and Montfoucault with him, with 
 the two greatest bankers in the country allied 
 with the masters of transportation, of fuel and 
 of food 
 
 "I want you with me whole-heartedly or not at 
 all," said Masterman. "What is the answer?" 
 
 "Give them the word," said Blaisdell. 
 
 Yet as he spoke he cast a furtive glance out the 
 window, down upon the hurrying throngs on 
 Broad Street, as though fear dwelt among those 
 busy pedestrians, fear for Blaisdell, not fear of 
 him. 
 
 "I'm in," said Cardigan. 
 
 Masterman looked from one to the other, as 
 though he would read their hearts. Indeed, he 
 did read their hearts; read the crookedness and 
 treachery that the pious exterior of Blaisdell and
 
 4 PLUNDER 
 
 the bluff and burly front of Cardigan tried to 
 conceal. He smiled, thin-lipped. 
 
 "One moment, gentlemen." 
 
 He rose from his place at the head of the table 
 andl walked to a typewriter by the window, and 
 sitting down before it slid in a sheet of paper. 
 There had been many occasions in the past when 
 it had been dangerous to entrust certain writings 
 to the knowledge of even the most trustworthy 
 secretary. Masterman picked out the letters with 
 a quite remarkable celerity. He wrote ten min- 
 utes, whipped the paper out of the machine, 
 walked to the table, with a fountain pen signed 
 his name at the foot of the sheet, and shoved the 
 writing over to Blaisdell. Blaisdell read ; his jaw 
 dropped. 
 
 "Why this is madness, Masterman! You 
 don't expect us to sign such a thing as this !" 
 
 "I've signed it," said Masterman coldly. 
 
 Cardigan arose and peered over Blaisdell's 
 shoulder. He, too, read the writing. He, too, 
 protested. 
 
 "But, look here, Masterman, you said that what 
 we did we did with the sanction of the law. But
 
 PLUNDER 5 
 
 there are a dozen laws against this thing! It 
 would mean jail. Jail? There isn't a jail in the 
 country strong enough to hold the signers of that 
 paper from the clutches of the mob if ever they 
 should find out. This isn't within the law." 
 
 "You mean our contemplated action or the 
 signing of that paper?" queried Masterman, 
 smiling. 
 
 "The action is all right, because collusion and 
 agreement can never be proved," replied Cardigan. 
 "Each event will apparently be independent of 
 any other, and due solely to economic conditions, 
 to the weather to anything to which we choose 
 to ascribe each single happening. But this thing 
 lumps them all together! This is proof conclu- 
 sive why, this is putting our necks into the 
 noose! Why should we sign it?" 
 
 "Yes, why?" demanded Blaisdell. 
 
 "Montfoucault, Schlossfelt and their associates 
 can not win alone," replied Masterman. "They 
 must have assurance that we are with them. This 
 paper is assurance." 
 
 "But you don't intend to give them that paper," 
 cried Blaisdell, aghast.
 
 6 PLUNDER 
 
 "Certainly not," said Master-man, still cool. "I 
 intend to keep it myself." 
 
 "Then if they'll accept your verbal assurance 
 that we're with them, why this paper?" 
 
 Masterman smiled still; but it was a smile be- 
 neath which the questioning eyes of Blaisdell 
 wavered, and the florid face of Cardigan became 
 a shade redder. 
 
 "Why? Well, gentlemen, between equals the 
 word of Martin Masterman has never been 
 doubted, because it has never been broken. 
 Schlossfelt and the others will accept my word 
 where, if I must be plain, they would not accept 
 your bonds. My word is good; they will go 
 ahead and risk millions on my word. But I, gen- 
 tlemen, will not risk millions, or thousands even, 
 on your words! I want your signatures to that 
 paper, and then if you try to welch, if you try 
 to draw back, I'll go down to ruin myself, but 
 you'll go with me! Am I dear?" 
 
 "You're insulting!" said Blaisdell, with an 
 effort at dignity. 
 
 But Cardigan laughed; Cardigan had no thin 
 skin.
 
 PLUNDER 7 
 
 "Forget it, Blaisdell," he jeered. "When 
 money is the prize well, any man can talk as he 
 likes to me if he pays the price! Masterman is 
 paying the price. It means we know what it 
 means. If Masterman doesn't care to accept our 
 words well, I wouldn't take the word of more 
 than one man in a matter like this. His name is 
 Martin Masterman. You see, Blaisdell, you and 
 I decided to become tremendously rich by any 
 means at hand. So did Masterman with the one 
 exception that he w r ould not betray a business as- 
 sociate until the association was ended. He's 
 kept to that. We both know that his word is 
 good to us while he's doing business with us. But 
 yours and mine well, Blaisdell, I'm willing to 
 admit that when a matter of millions is involved 
 I think of myself all the time. So do you, only 
 you won't admit it even to yourself. Here, give 
 me the paper I'll sign!" 
 
 He wrote his name beneath that of Masterman, 
 in the huge scrawl that was all his clumsy fingers, 
 still stiffened by that youthful toil as a laborer, 
 tould accomplish. He eyed his signature with 
 satisfaction ; he had not been able to read or write
 
 8 PLUNDER 
 
 until his twenty-sixth year, and had not yet lost 
 his pride in the art. He pushed the paper toward 
 Blaisdell, who still hesitated. 
 
 "Masterman, you're going to keep this thing 
 guarded like " 
 
 "All our plans would be irrevocably wrecked 
 if that paper were discovered," replied Master- 
 man. "Indeed, we'd be torn limb from limb. 
 But I would rather be torn limb from limb than 
 have my fortune wrested from me. And you and 
 Cardigan by treachery could wrest it from me. 
 This paper is a guarantee against your treach- 
 ery. Should you and Cardigan break faith with 
 me, I shall show this paper to the world, knowing 
 that my downfall is yours. But while you work 
 with me this paper will be as secure as man can 
 make anything. It will be in the vaults down- 
 stairs. I will take it there myself immediately 
 you have signed it." 
 
 With this assurance Blaisdell seemed content, 
 as well he might have been, for the vaults in the 
 basement of the Masterman Building were the 
 last word in burglar, fire and earthquake protec- 
 tion. The document would be safe there. Blais-
 
 PLUNDER 9 
 
 dell signed, his very small chirography seeming 
 indicative of character as against the huge scrawl 
 of Cardigan, which seemed to express the pirati- 
 cal nature of the coal lord. For Cardigan was a 
 modern pirate, while Blaisdell was a Machiavelli, 
 who worked in the dark, and did not disdain 
 smallness in attaining his ends. Both were Lilli- 
 putians beside Martin Masterman. 
 
 The Lord of the Granary and the Market 
 pushed the paper toward Masterman, and he who 
 was Transportation, again showing his thin-lipped 
 smile, reached for it. A knock on the door made 
 his hand pause, hovering over the paper. 
 
 "Well?" he called angrily. It was a rule, here- 
 tofore inviolate, that no one should approach this 
 private office, when Masterman was in confer- 
 ence, unless he had rung his bell. The voice of 
 the man on the other side of the door showed 
 that he was fearful of the reception that would 
 be accorded the breaking of the rule. It quavered. 
 
 "Excuse me, Mr. Masterman, but you said 
 that no matter where you were, if a wire should 
 come from Mr. Schlossfelt to bring it to you at 
 once."
 
 io PLUNDER 
 
 Masterman's frown vanished as swiftly as it 
 had come. He walked to the door and unlocked 
 it. A hand appeared, holding a yellow paper. 
 The master of transportation seized it and read 
 the message. 
 
 "Reply 'All settled; will write details.' Sign 
 my name." He closed the door and turned to 
 his companions. "Schlossfelt is in a hurry," he 
 said exultingly. "In three months or less we'll 
 have the people of this country " 
 
 He stopped short and stared. Cardigan was 
 standing on the table, clawing madly at a sheet 
 of paper that floated upward. Blaisdell, white of 
 face, was watching him helplessly. For the clos- 
 ing of the 1 door had caused a puff of wind which 
 had lifted the signed agreement from the polished 
 surface of the table! 
 
 Masterman stood still only a fraction of a sec- 
 ond. Then: "You can't reach it! Close the 
 window " 
 
 He acted upon his own word. He sprang to 
 the window, open at top and bottom. He brought 
 down the lower half with a crash that shook the 
 room. He pushed upward at the other half; but
 
 PLUNDER II 
 
 it needed a long pole to push that closed, and 
 the long pole stood six feet away. Before Mas- 
 terman could grab it and return, the paper, on 
 the vagrant current of air that had been set in 
 motion by the closing door, floated through the 
 opened top and out of the room! 
 
 Cardigan, who had faced two thousand strik- 
 ing, murder-bent miners and cursed them into 
 silence, and Blaisdell, whose nimble wit had come 
 to the aid of the highest-priced lawyers when these 
 had been stumped, stared gaping. It was Mas- 
 terman who acted, who proved why he was 
 greater than these. 
 
 "Watch it," he ordered, "where it falls! 
 Watch!" 
 
 He leaped to the door and opened it. To some 
 one in the outer room he called : 
 
 "Paper out my window in the street ten 
 thousand to the man that brings it back if no one 
 has had a chance to read it. Quick into the 
 street I'll point from the window!" 
 
 He was back in the room and at the window, 
 elbowing the slight Blaisdell and the burly Car* 
 digan aside, that he might have the better view.
 
 12 PLUNDER 
 
 Together they stared, while the flimsy sheet, wind- 
 borne, rose and fell. It swooped suddenly down ; 
 then an upward draft caught it ; it rose a hundred 
 feet; it passed over a low roof. Masterman 
 rushed from the room; he dashed through a 
 couple of offices and came to a window that 
 looked out upon a side street. Behind him came 
 the other two, while amazed clerks that dared not 
 show their amazement lifted eyebrows and shoul- 
 ders. 
 
 It was Blaisdell who saw the paper first. 
 "There!" he cried. 
 
 The others looked and saw it. It was dropping 
 now limply, no current of air sustaining it. Mas- 
 terman turned to the others. 
 
 "Stay here," he gasped. "Watch ! The clerks 
 the other street " 
 
 He was out of the office, and hatless, flushed, 
 a sight to cause the market to drop fifty points, 
 was rushing down a flight of stairs to the side 
 street where his reward-desirous clerks were not 
 waiting. Behind, Cardigan and Blaisdell strained 
 their eyes, watching the paper that meant more 
 than fame or fortune, that meant life itself, should
 
 PLUNDER 13 
 
 it fall into strange hands. And then a breeze 
 swept up the side street. While Masterman was 
 yet on the stairs they saw the paper swoop up- 
 ward, then slant downward and drop before a 
 man far up the street. They saw the man bend 
 over and pick it up. Fear clutching at their hearts, 
 they saw him read. Cardigan imagined he saw 
 a smile of vicious exultation on the man's face; 
 Blaisdell thought he could see the lips set in a 
 grim threat. Then Masterman appeared on the 
 sidewalk below. He looked up at them; they 
 pointed frantically up the street. He did not 
 understand. Cardigan started from the office; 
 Blaisdell followed. They dashed into the hall 
 and, like Masterman a few seconds before, raced 
 down the stairs. A dozen clerks looked after 
 them. One spoke. 
 
 "I hope they don't trip on the stairs," he said. 
 "My lip's cracked." 
 
 And the innocent joy with which this hackneyed 
 humor was received was proof that social unrest 
 was growing. When clerks dare gibe at their 
 divinely appointed masters the world is in a sad 
 state.
 
 II 
 
 SIR FITZ-ROY EUSTACE CLAVERING 
 BRAY, born Peter Whittier, and known 
 internationally to the police and the top planes of 
 the underworld as "Handsome Harry" Mack, was 
 as quick-witted a denizen of the world of crime 
 as had ever outwitted the detective bureaus of a 
 score of cities. He was no dealer in petty lar- 
 ceny; anything less than ten thousand dollars 
 looked like chicken feed to Handsome Harry. 
 And there was no sum which his imagination had 
 set as the limit in hauls. He knew that the famous 
 Adam Worth had dealt in the hundreds of thou- 
 sands; it was Handsome Harry's ambition to 
 make Worth look like a piker. Handsome Harry 
 had always believed that some day he would deal 
 in millions. Meanwhile, until that day of millions 
 came along 1 , he would continue to deal in tens and 
 scores of thousands. He had done so, with such 
 remarkable success that he had never graced a
 
 PLUNDER 15 
 
 jail for more than eight days on a stretch, lack 
 of conclusive evidence causing his speedy release 
 always. For Handsome Harry always chose his 
 victims from that class which, given time to cool 
 down, decides that it is better to put up with the 
 loss of a lot of money than to admit to the world 
 how easily it may be swindled. In other words, 
 Handsome Harry chose to mulct those who were 
 conceited snobs as well as millionaires. And they 
 always failed to appear against him in court. 
 
 Technically speaking, he had no criminal rec- 
 ord, inasmuch as no conviction had ever been 
 found against him; but in New York, Paris and 
 London his dossier was on police file, and plain- 
 clothes men often called him aside from little 
 gatherings in hotel bars or dining-rooms and 
 hinted to him that if he didn't return to his friends 
 the plain-clothes men would be glad to make his 
 apologies for him. He was catalogued as a sus- 
 picious character, and the police tried to keep in- 
 formed of his whereabouts. And there is inter- 
 national courtesy between police departments. 
 Twelve days ago Scotland Yard had cabled New 
 York that Handsome Harry Mack, under the nom
 
 1 6 PLUNDER 
 
 de guerre of Archibald Grantham, was aboard 
 a certain liner. Detectives had met the ship at 
 quarantine. They had congratulated Mr. Gran- 
 tham on having 1 won approximately twelve thou- 
 sand dollars at poker on the short voyage, an 
 incident that had come to their attention as soon 
 as they boarded the ship, and told him that such 
 a lucky man was not desired in the United States 
 he might amass all the wealth in the country. 
 
 He was advised to take the first ship back to 
 London, whereupon Handsome Harry had smil- 
 ingly proved to their satisfaction that he was an 
 American citizen, and had been reluctantly per- 
 mitted to land. But within twelve hours he was 
 taken to police headquarters and assured that it 
 was the earnest intention of the department to 
 make the town too hot to hold him, and asked 
 if some other city wouldn't be as welcome a resi- 
 dence for him. He took the hint. He boarded 
 a train for Chicago, and a plain-clothes man saw 
 him off. 
 
 He went to Chicago, but stayed there only until 
 a train left for Montreal. In the Canadian city 
 he f uir.ed and fretted for a week, cursing the luck
 
 PLUNDER 17 
 
 that had drawn him into a poker game, thus 
 advertising the name of Archibald Grantham, for 
 under that name he had intended to trim certain 
 New York bucket-shops with a new and highly 
 involved scheme of swindling that had stood the 
 acid test in Berlin, Madrid and Paris. He had 
 brought letters of introduction forged by a 
 chirographic friend and now they were useless, 
 for Handsome Harry was clumsy with a pen, and 
 knew not how to imitate another's handwriting. 
 Of course the name of Grantham was worse than 
 useless now. 
 
 So in Montreal he cursed his luck. Then that 
 luck was good to him. He became acquainted in 
 the hotel bar with an English gentleman, who, in 
 one hour was due to take a train and travel, for 
 a bit of hunting, into the Canadian Northwest, 
 to be gone some four months. They drank to- 
 gether, Handsome Harry making the English- 
 man's last hour one of joyous memory. Before 
 parting they exchanged cards, and Handsome 
 Harry Mack also managed to abstract from the 
 Englishman's pocket a letter introducing the 
 seeker of sport to a New York bank. Evidently
 
 i8 PLUNDER 
 
 the Englishman purposed visiting New York be- 
 fore his return home. 
 
 Handsome Harry saw the Englishman aboard 
 his train. A little later he, too, took a train for 
 New York. He presented the stolen letter of 
 introduction to the bank, and deposited therein 
 English gold and paper to the value of fifteen 
 thousand dollars. He then registered at an up- 
 town hotel under the name of the sporting Eng- 
 lishman Sir Fitz-Roy Eustace Clavering Bray. 
 
 Everything had worked out well. It was im- 
 perative that he pose as a man of means and 
 position for the furtherance of his scheme against 
 the bucket-shops. The identity of Archibald 
 Grantham had been rudely torn from him; but 
 that of Sir Fitz-Roy was for the time being his- 
 unless the police happened to see him. This, how- 
 ever, was a risk he must take, a risk worth taking, 
 too, for the part of Sir Fitz-Roy, vouched for as 
 it would be by the bank to which he had presented 
 the letter and where he had made the good-sized 
 deposit, was capable of greater results even than 
 that of the carefully prepared part of Grantham 
 which carelessness had lost to him.
 
 PLUNDER 19 
 
 For a week he had managed to avoid recogni- 
 tion by any detectives. One week longer, and he 
 wouldn't care if he were recognized, for he would 
 have concluded the trimming, already well on its 
 way, of the bucket-shop near Broad Street which 
 he had chosen as his victim, and would have done 
 so in a way so entirely within the law, that re- 
 covery, even by civil suit, of the money he'd have 
 won, would be a hazy thing, and one not attempt- 
 ed by any bucket-shop, undesirous of certain kinds 
 of advertising as these places were. 
 
 So "Sir Fitz-Roy," swinging round the corner 
 from Broadway into the side street that ran down 
 to Broad, was in an extremely happy frame of 
 mind. The police didn't dream that he was back 
 in New York again ; it was great sport posing as 
 an English baronet. Cards had been left at his 
 hotel by many persons prominent in New York 
 society; and he told himself that with his address 
 and apparent position and wealth he might even 
 make the acquaintance of some heiress and marry 
 her before his real identity was suspected. Pleas- 
 ant vistas opened before him, but he turned his 
 eyes from them. They were uncertainties; the
 
 20 PLUNDER 
 
 bucket-shop trick almost a reality. Yet it did no 
 harm to dream, and he was dreaming when a 
 paper dropped on the pavement before him. 
 
 Half -unconsciously he stooped and picked it 
 up; but he was wholly alert one-tenth of a second 
 later, for the first words he read were the names, 
 freshly inked, of Masterman, Cardigan and Blais- 
 dell. He had seen facsimiles of the signatures of 
 all three, and knew them as he would have known 
 their owners' much-published faces. Two seconds 
 more and he had read the typewritten lines above 
 the signatures. He saw at once the tremendous 
 value of his possession. His time had come! He 
 had always known that it would come, and now 
 that it was here he was not taken off his feet. A 
 lesser man would have been dazed ; but Handsome 
 Harry Mack only saw in this paper his big oppor- 
 tunity. Adam Worth was to be made to look like 
 a piker at last! 
 
 He folded the paper swiftly and thrust it into 
 a pocket. No doubt of its genuineness assailed 
 his confidence. How it had happened to drop 
 before him, how its signers had let it get from 
 their possession, these were matters of unimpor-
 
 PLUNDER 21 
 
 tance, questions whose answers could wait. The 
 important thing was to make his get-away until 
 he had time to plan. For it was inconceivable 
 that the loss of this paper could remain unnoticed 
 for more than a few moments, or that an imme- 
 diate search would not be made for it. He turned 
 on his heel toward Broadway, to stare into the 
 eyes, a score of yards away, of Detective Con- 
 nors, who had been among those headquarters' 
 gentlemen who had greeted him on his arrival in 
 America. Connors' eyes lighted with surprised 
 recognition. He took a step toward the interna- 
 tional crook. 
 
 The mind of Handsome Harry was lightning 
 quick. Connors would place him under arrest as 
 a suspicious character. As a matter of form he 
 would be searched at headquarters. And this 
 paper, of incalculable value, would be turned over 
 to the dull-witted police. He did not know or 
 care what the police would do with it. Enough 
 for him that the golden path of fortune would be 
 closed if the paper were read by them it must 
 not be found on him! 
 
 As Detective Connors stepped forward Hand-
 
 22 PLUNDER 
 
 some Harry turned. It would do no good to run ; 
 in the crowded Wall Street district he'd be lucky 
 to go a hundred yards without capture. But the 
 bucket-shop which he had been honoring with his 
 patronage was only two doors away. With De- 
 tective Connors fifteen yards back and coming 
 strong, Handsome Harry entered the office of 
 Bryant, Manners & Company. He glanced over 
 his shoulder; Connors was approaching at rather 
 better .than a fast walk. 
 
 Bryant, Manners & Company had a safe for 
 the convenience of their customers, but there was 
 no time to avail himself of that repository. Con- 
 nors was right behind him. Undoubtedly a hun- 
 dred-dollar bill passed to a clerk would make one 
 of those underpaid worthies keep the paper for 
 him. But he could not risk the clerk reading it, 
 and there was no time to place it in an envelope. 
 All these considerations had passed through 
 Handsome Harry's brain in the few seconds that 
 elapsed between his recognition of Connors and 
 his entrance into the bucket-shop. And his plan, 
 risky and reckless, yet the only plan, was formed 
 before he crossed the threshold.
 
 PLUNDER 23 
 
 Bryant, Manners & Company was a fifth-rate 
 concern. It did business on a one-point margin, 
 and though prosperous enough to be worthy 
 Handsome Harry's swindling efforts, its large 
 volume of business was transacted with clerks, 
 office boys, cheap scalpers and other speculators 
 of low degree. There were no rich furnishings, 
 no breath-taking surroundings of wealth. Such 
 things are all very well, reasoned Bryant, Man- 
 ners & Company, but they awed their class of 
 clientele. The outer office of the bucket-shop 
 resembled nothing so much as the outer office of 
 a prosperous police-court shyster, save that the 
 bucket-shop was larger. 
 
 Customers shed their coats in the warm weather 
 and hung them upon nails on the wall. Cheap 
 cuspidors ornamented the corners. Messenger 
 boys smoked cigarettes and exchanged badinage 
 or brag with the office boys. Clerks made a point 
 of learning a customer's first name and hailing 
 him familiarly. Handsome Harry, who promised 
 to be a comparatively heavy trader, who seemed 
 to have strolled into the office by accident, and 
 who, because his presence lent prestige to the
 
 24 PLUNDER 
 
 place, was accorded a courtesy rare in these brisk 
 surroundings, knew the office far better than he 
 knew his hotel bedroom. He knew which row 
 of nails was for the use of customers; on which 
 hung the coats of the employees. He had that 
 observance for details that would have made him 
 successful as a detective or a reporter. Your 
 first-class crook always has. 
 
 He stepped swiftly toward the hat-and-coat- 
 hung nails. He lifted his own hat from his head 
 and placed it upon the last nail on the wall de- 
 voted to customers. He stood in the corner 
 formed by two sides of the room. At his left was 
 the row of clerkly garments. Swift as a prestidig- 
 itator, he whipped the folded paper from his 
 pocket. Unobserved, he slipped it into the outer 
 pocket of the last coat hanging in the row devoted 
 to employees' garments. It was a desperate thing 
 to do, but not for nothing had Handsome Harry 
 frequented this bucket-shop in the last few days. 
 He had used his eyes; he knew that this coat 
 belonged to one of the bookkeepers, a young 
 fellow named Grant. His observing eye was 
 backed up by a photographic and retentive mem-
 
 PLUNDER 25 
 
 ory. He knew that Grant, at precisely twelve- 
 thirty, would pass swiftly from his ledgers behind 
 a grated barrier, would jam his hat on his head 
 and wriggle into his coat and make for the door. 
 Handsome Harry had seen the young man do this 
 on four successive days, and he recalled that not 
 once in the four days had Grant examined his 
 pockets at least, not while in the office. Of 
 course there was the chance that when he got out- 
 side the young man would put his hands inside 
 them, but again there was the chance that he 
 wouldn't. And there was absolutely no chance 
 that Handsome Harry could escape search at 
 headquarters. The risk was great, but there was 
 nothing else to do. If luck were with Handsome 
 Harry he would get the paper back; if luck were 
 against him but the fate that had placed fortune 
 within his grasp would not snatch it away. Hand- 
 some Harry, like every other criminal, was super- 
 stitious. Fate had always had great things in 
 store for him ; Fate would not snatch them away. 
 He hung up his hat and turned round to face ( the 
 door. Connors entered. 
 
 The detective didn't waste a moment. He
 
 26 PLUNDER 
 
 crossed the room and spoke to the international 
 crook. 
 
 "Back in town again, eh? Better come along 
 with me." 
 
 "Why?" demanded Harry. "I'm doing noth- 
 ing." 
 
 Connors grinned. 
 
 "That's what they all say, always. Get your 
 hat." 
 
 Handsome Harry shrugged his well-squared 
 shoulders. 
 
 "Oh, very well," he said, reaching for his hat. 
 
 Connors linked arms with him. It happened 
 that the plain-clothes man played the market on 
 occasion. Bryant, Manners & Company was the 
 firm that accepted his margins. He was grateful 
 to Handsome Harry for coming along without 
 protest. It does no business any good to have a 
 violent arrest perpetrated within its precincts, and 
 Connors would not willingly injure the bucket- 
 shop, which accorded him favors because of his 
 connection with the police. 
 
 "We'll just duck out quiet," said the detective. 
 "Later I'll come back and see these people, and
 
 PLUNDER 27 
 
 if you've been putting up a game on them well, 
 we'll see." 
 
 It happened that there was a little flurry on 
 that morning in Amalgamated Tin; only unim- 
 portant clerks, and these busy with books, were in 
 the outer office. They paid no attention to the de- 
 parture of detective and crook. Captor and cap- 
 tured reached the street and turned toward 
 Broadway. Handsome Harry was too self-con- 
 tained to protest, although, had it been feasible, 
 he would have killed Connors with as little com- 
 punction as he'd have trimmed a sucker. White- 
 hot murder was in his brain and heart. A moment 
 ago and millions had been within his reach ; now 
 they were out of his reach, for the moment, at 
 least, and might remain so. 
 
 "Why didn't you stay out west, Mack?" de- 
 manded Connors. "Don't you know you can't 
 get along in this town? You look like a good 
 sensible guy; why can't you take a friendly tip? 
 Why don't you " 
 
 He turned and looked into the crook's face. 
 What he saw there made him drop his jaw, made 
 the words die away on his lips. For Handsome
 
 28 PLUNDER 
 
 Harry could control his speech and his actions* 
 but not his thoughts, and the murderous thoughts 
 within him glared through his eyes. Connors 
 tightened his grip of the crook's arm. 
 
 "Well," he gasped, "I think I'd better frisk you 
 for a gun! So help me, if I don't think you'd 
 croak me with as much regret as you'd 
 
 He ran a hand over Harry's hip pockets. The 
 crook had no weapon. Connors' jaw jutted for- 
 ward. 
 
 "Smile, blast you, smile!" he snarled. "I'll 
 have no crook give me an eye like that if I 
 
 Behind them came the sound of running feet. 
 Connors glanced back over his shoulder, and what 
 he saw there made him almost lose his hold of 
 Harry Mack. For the three richest men in Ameri- 
 ca, hatless, breathless, stared at by gaping clerks 
 who recognized them, were coming up the side 
 street. Masterman was slightly in advance; be- 
 hind him was Cardigan; and, elbows against his 
 ribs, puffing and sweating, Blaisdell brought up 
 the rear. 
 
 "Well, I'll be " Connors never finished that 
 
 remark, for Masterman flung himself upon Hand-
 
 PLUNDER 29 
 
 some Harry. His fingers twined about the lapels 
 of Harry's coat. He turned to Blaisdell and 
 Cardigan. 
 
 "Is this he?" 
 
 Cardigan seized one arm of the crook, and 
 Blaisdell the other, before the astonished Connors 
 could frame a question. 
 
 "He's the man," cried Cardigan. 
 
 Blaisdell merely puffed. 
 
 "Where's that paper?" cried Masterman. 
 "Where is it?" He was not so young as once 
 upon a time, and sedentary occupations had soft- 
 ened his muscles, but nerve force lent the muscles 
 fictitious strength. He shook the crook savagely. 
 "Where's that paper?" 
 
 Then Connors found speech. 
 
 "What's the matter here? Leggo this man! 
 I'm Connors, of the detective bureau. Leggo 
 him " 
 
 Masterman glared at the detective. 
 
 "Shut up!" roared the master of transporta- 
 tion. Then to Harry: "Where's that paper?" 
 
 "Connors, take this crazy man off me," de- 
 manded the crook. "Take him off!"
 
 30 PLUNDER 
 
 The detective placed a hand on Masterman's 
 shoulder. 
 
 "Look here, Mr. Masterman, I'm taking this 
 man to headquarters, and " 
 
 Masterman looked at the detective again, and 
 Connors withered. 
 
 "Don't you dare to interfere with me," he said. 
 "Bring this man to my office at once ! Now!" 
 
 Of course it was Connors' duty to take his 
 prisoner to headquarters; but Connors was wise 
 in his day and generation. He knew that the 
 word of Martin Masterman came very near to 
 being law in New York City, and elsewhere in 
 the country. So while gaping hundreds decided 
 that Handsome Harry must be some sneak thief 
 who had assaulted the proud integrity of the Mas- 
 terman offices, the three multimillionaires and the 
 detective herded the international crook down the 
 side street and into the Masterman Building. Up 
 a flight of stairs and to the private office where 
 the missing document had been signed, Master- 
 man, still gripping the coat of the crook, led the 
 way. At the door he waved Connors back. 
 
 "This is private business. Wait outside!" he
 
 PLUNDER 31 
 
 snapped, and slammed the door in the plain-clothes 
 man's face. Connors knew better than to show re- 
 sentment. He shrugged his shoulders and turned 
 to a clerk : 
 
 "What's up, anyway?" he asked. 
 
 "Some paper blew out a window. Guess that 
 guy found it," was the answer. 
 
 "Ah!" said Connors. He composed himself to 
 wait. In ten minutes Masterman came out. 
 
 He pressed a slip of paper into Connors' hand. 
 The detective looked at it. It was an order on the 
 Masterman cashier for two hundred dollars. 
 
 "What's this for?" queried Connors. 
 
 "The time I've made you lose," said Master- 
 man. 
 
 "And where's my man?" 
 
 "You don't want him," said Masterman quietly. 
 
 Connors looked into the hard gray eyes of the 
 master of transportation. 
 
 "But I've got my report to make out. Some 
 one may have seen " 
 
 "He was a sneak thief; I sent you after him. 
 Later I refused to make a charge, and asked you 
 to say nothing about the matter. I have some
 
 3 2 PLUNDER 
 
 slight influence with your commissioner, Connors. 
 I am going to recommend to him that you be made 
 a sergeant. Do you understand? Good morn- 
 
 ing." 
 
 "Thank you, sir; good morning," replied Con- 
 nors. He understood that he had his choice of 
 being broken or promoted. He preferred promo- 
 tion, so he made no report of the interrupted 
 arrest of Handsome Harry Mack. That incident 
 was never placed upon police record; for the 
 threads of the Masterman power ran high and 
 low, and into the farthest corners.
 
 Ill 
 
 WHEN the three richest men in America, 
 accompanied by Handsome Harry, 
 reached Masterman's office, the latter took charge. 
 
 "Hand over that paper," he ordered. 
 
 Handsome Harry looked bewildered. 
 
 "What paper? What's all this about? I tell 
 you, I'm an American citizen with rights. I'll 
 have the police " 
 
 "You picked up a paper from the street," in- 
 terrupted Masterman. "These gentlemen saw 
 you. No possible mistake, Blaisdell, Cardigan?" 
 
 The two men had got a good look at Hand- 
 some Harry from the window of the other office ; 
 and his dress was distinctive. This beyond ques- 
 tion was the man. But they had not seen him 
 enter the offices of Bryant, Manners & Company. 
 Blaisdell and Cardigan had been on the stairs at 
 that moment, and Masterman, not knowing for 
 which person on the crowded street to look, did 
 not know of that excursion either. 
 
 33
 
 34 PLUNDER 
 
 "He read it, too," said Blaisdell. 
 
 "Hand it over," demanded Masterman. 
 
 "I don't know what you're talking about," in- 
 sisted Mack. 
 
 Cardigan's jaws set heavily. His great fists 
 were knotted. 
 
 "Take off your clothes," he ordered. 
 
 Handsome Harry had heard enough about the 
 three men in the room with him to realize that 
 they had slight respect for such trifles as a man's 
 constitutional rights or the law. Further, he had 
 read the paper, and knew that they must be des 
 perate, that he was playing with death. Sullenly 
 he removed his garments. Every inch of them 
 was searched by all three financiers, but the paper 
 was not produced. 
 
 "But he had it," piped the thin voice of 
 Blaisdell. 
 
 "I saw him read it," rumbled the bass of Car- 
 digan. 
 
 Masterman looked at the crook. 
 
 "You know who we are," he said. "You know 
 what that paper means. Where did you put it?" 
 
 Handsome Harry had donned his clothing
 
 PLUNDER 35 
 
 again. Being dressed brought back his courage, 
 which had been at its lowest ebb while he stood, 
 naked, before these ithree men, whose very fright 
 rendered them the more dangerous. 
 
 "I don't know what you're talking about," he 
 said. 
 
 Masterman surveyed him a moment. 
 
 "The detective outside had arrested you ; you're 
 some sort of criminal. I think that a word from 
 me will make it certain that you'll be confined 
 in jail until you're willing to tell us where that 
 paper is. Shall I give him that word?" 
 
 Handsome Harry was no fool; he knew that, 
 dangerous and powerful as these men were, he 
 would be safe at their hands so long as they be- 
 lieved he knew of the whereabouts of the paper 
 and would not divulge his knowledge. It was 
 time to end his bluff. 
 
 "And suppose I told him or any man that's 
 my jailer the contents of that paper? Think 
 he'd let me go and help me get it, or not?" 
 
 There was force to this remark. The multi- 
 millionaires knew, each of them, that they'd pay 
 millions for the return of that paper. The veriest
 
 36 PLUNDER 
 
 tyro would know its value as a lever for the 
 prying up of blackmail. 
 
 "How much do you want for it?" demanded 
 Masterman. 
 
 "Send Connors away," said Handsome Harry. 
 
 It was then that Masterman got rid of the de- 
 tective. Returning, he repeated his question. 
 
 "I haven't decided yet," said Harry. "I'll have 
 to think it over." 
 
 "Why temporize with him, Masterman?" de- 
 manded Cardigan. "Send out for some dope ; put 
 him to sleep ; take him down to my place on Long 
 Island I'll make him talk." He glared at Hand- 
 some Harry, and nervousness again attacked the 
 crook. But his position was as strong as theirs. 
 
 "Oh, you won't do anything like that," he said. 
 "A good many people have seen me come in here. 
 You come an inch nearer me and I'll yell at the 
 top of my lungs. You can't vouch for all your 
 clerks outside. Some one of them will talk, you 
 know that. You wouldn't really dare to kill me." 
 
 "No? Are you certain?" asked Cardigan. 
 
 "Not while a friend of mine has that paper," 
 sneered Handsome Harry.
 
 PLUNDER 37 
 
 "Who's the friend?" asked Masterman. 
 
 Handsome Harry took a cigarette from a case 
 and lighted it 
 
 "Oh, don't be silly," he yawned. "Let's get 
 down to business. How much for that paper? 
 And let's not have any argument about it. I'm 
 no fool; I know exactly what it's worth to me. 
 How much is it worth to you?" 
 
 "I'll give you ten thousand dollars for it," 
 said Masterman quickly. 
 
 "And I want one million," smiled Handsome 
 Harry. "Not a cent less! What do you say? 
 You can't murder me. Even if you could in 
 safety, you'd not dare until you got that paper 
 back. The whip hand is mine. Gentlemen, what's 
 the answer?" 
 
 Just as brainy in his own way as either of his 
 three antagonists, was this crook. Masterman 
 realized that at once. A million was a fearful 
 price to pay for one second's carelessness; but 
 the crook spoke truly; he held the whip hand. 
 More important, he had the brains to perceive 
 what he held.
 
 38 PLUNDER 
 
 "A million," said Masterman slowly. "Well, 
 Mr. er " 
 
 "Mack," said Handsome Harry, discarding 
 the titled alias in favor of the one whereby he was 
 known to the police. 
 
 "Well, Mr. Mack, how long will it take you 
 to get that paper?" 
 
 "Not long after you've handed me my price," 
 smiled Handsome Harry. The smile was a proof 
 of his histrionic abilities, for it was nearing half 
 past twelve. In a few moments young Grant, in 
 whose pocket was the document, would go for his 
 luncheon. If he happened to put his hand into 
 his pocket well, Handsome Harry smiled, but 
 the Spartan boy who said nothing about the fox 
 gnawing at his vitals had nothing on Handsome 
 Harry Mack at that moment. 
 
 "You don't expect a million in advance !" cried 
 Blaisdell. 
 
 "You don't expect me to return that paper be- 
 fore I get it, do you ?" sneered Handsome Harry. 
 
 It was an impasse. Masterman shrugged his 
 shoulders. 
 
 "Will your friend give the paper back to you?"
 
 PLUNDER 39 
 
 "If he doesn't you're in a million," replied 
 Mack. 
 
 He lighted another cigarette and grinned cheer- 
 fully. He had the three richest men in America 
 in the world, perhaps on the hip, and the sit- 
 uation suited him right down to the ground. 
 
 "And you'll be back here how soon ?" 
 
 "You'll have time to raise the cash," said 
 Harry. "Cashiers' checks on any good bank will 
 do me. And don't try any nonsense! I won't 
 have the paper with me when I return. I'll have 
 it near, but not on me. I'll phone you before I'm 
 coming. I'll fix my plans and you follow them. 
 Understand? And now I guess I'll be going." 
 
 "Don't you trust us?" demanded the ashen 
 shaking Blaisdell. 
 
 "About as far," said Handsome Harry, "as I 
 could throw an ocean liner over my shoulder left- 
 handed." 
 
 Masterman pressed a bell with his foot; he 
 pressed it twice swiftly, and then gave one long 
 ring. It was a well understood signal. It meant 
 that the person just leaving the private office was 
 to be shadowed by private operatives of the
 
 40 PLUNDER 
 
 Greenham Detective Agency, situated on the 
 ground floor of the Masterman Building. The 
 Greenham Detective Agency existed for the sole 
 purpose of aiding Mr. Martin Masterman, and it 
 employed the cleverest sleuths that money could 
 retain. Needless to state, Mr. Masterman had no 
 intention of paying a million to Handsome Harry 
 if such payment could be avoided. 
 
 "You understand the vital importance of our 
 getting that paper back," said Masterman. "The 
 high price you name proves your understanding 
 of its importance. We'll pay the price; but in 
 return for that price we demand speed. We want 
 that paper before it's been read by others." 
 
 "I'm not anxious to have its value lessened by 
 others seeing it and blabbing," said Handsome 
 Harry. "I'll phone you as soon as I see my 
 friend. You do as I tell you to do, or well, 
 there's newspapers that'll pay something for that 
 paper !" 
 
 He rose, and stood a moment looking round the 
 office. In a few days he'd have squared the police 
 with a few thousands, and he, Handsome Harry 
 Mack, millionaire, would have an office like this.
 
 PLUNDER 41 
 
 Not that he intended to work, but he desired to 
 enter society, and opening a bank or something 
 would afford an entering wedge. 
 
 "Good morning, gentlemen," he said with su- 
 perb aplomb. Then he left the office. 
 
 Cardigan's mouth opened; Blaisdell's lips 
 parted. But the mighty Masterman cut off their 
 speech. 
 
 "Don't bark," he ordered. "I know what you 
 have to say; but it was your fault as much as 
 mine. You ought to have hung on to it when I 
 opened the door " 
 
 "We ought to have done what I suggested," 
 growled Cardigan. "Drug him " 
 
 "Gentlemen, I'm doing this," said Masterman. 
 
 "Are you paying the whole million?" said 
 Blaisdell with a snarl. 
 
 "A million?" Masterman smiled. "I had to 
 let him go; but I think the Greenham people will 
 save me from that expenditure. There are ways 
 and ways." 
 
 He turned and spoke into a tube that connected 
 with the office of the manager of the detective 
 office down-stairs.
 
 42 PLUNDER 
 
 "Man leaving my office; going to get valuable 
 paper; blackmail millions. Be careful; get him 
 when he has the paper !" 
 
 Not much, but enough for such shrewd people 
 as the Greenhams. 
 
 Masterman let the tube drop back into its 
 socket in his desk, and wiped his forehead with 
 a trembling hand. Man of iron nerve that he 
 was, this morning had tried him to the limit. He 
 stared at Cardigan and Blaisdell. They were in 
 worse shape than he, for self -repression was a 
 religion with Masterman, and he held himself in 
 as they could not. 
 
 "What'll we do now?" quavered Blaisdell. 
 "Where could he have put .that paper? Why 
 didn't we see him hand it to a friend if he did? 
 Why " 
 
 Burly Cardigan frowned little Blaisdell into 
 silence. The ex-laborer looked almost pleadingly 
 at Masterman. 
 
 "Martin," he said, "it's going to be hell waitin' 
 to hear from the Greenhams or that crooked 
 shrimp Mack. Can't you suggest something we 
 could be doing?"
 
 PLUNDER 43 
 
 "Yes," said Masterman. "A drink." 
 He procured a bottle and glasses from a recess 
 in the wall. That recess was approached only on 
 the most important occasions, usually to celebrate 
 some tremendous coup on the part of the great 
 master of transportation; but to-day Masterman 
 and his companions were in no mood for cele- 
 brations; they were drinking to settle their nerves.
 
 IV 
 
 HANDSOME HARRY MACK paused a 
 moment in the street and drew a long 
 breath. On a broken flush he had once forced an 
 opponent to lay down four kings, when there were 
 six thousand dollars in the pot, and he had never 
 turned a hair. He had nerve to spare ; like a Bret 
 Harte gambler, he was always cool. But now 
 for once he was unnerved. He had met the most 
 powerful man on earth, looked him in the eye, 
 and played his cards to victory! The man who 
 could do this thing was destined to mighty things. 
 A million dollars was the prize; but a million 
 was but the start. There was no reason why the 
 nerve and brain and cool resource of Handsome 
 Harry Mack, backed by this first million, should 
 not carry him to that very pinnacle which Mas- 
 terman occupied. A few minutes ago he'd 
 thought of the pleasure of entering society; now 
 he decided that he would use his fortune to attain 
 
 44
 
 PLUNDER 45 
 
 power. He started up the side street toward the 
 offices of Bryant, Manners & Company. 
 
 It was a blowy day, such as often comes in 
 early June. One of those errant winds that had 
 wafted the document into the crook's hands now 
 lifted the hat from his head. He turned swiftly 
 and leaped after it, and caught it in a dozen yards. 
 As he ran he passed a man whom he had once 
 seen in Monte Carlo. The man had been pointed 
 out as a detective from America in search of a 
 missing bank defaulter. The man was coming 
 toward Harry, and as the international crook 
 clapped his hat upon his head, the detective 
 passed by and continued up the side street with- 
 out so much as a glance at Harry. But the 
 crook's keen eyes hardened as he stared back at 
 the Masterman Building. He remembered what 
 was gossip among the denizens of the under- 
 world that Martin Masterman' s vaults were 
 the best protected in the world, both by mechan- 
 ical and by human agencies. 
 
 It was the last that counted. For through 
 the crooked channels of its information had 
 seeped to the underworld the news that in the
 
 46 PLUNDER 
 
 Masterman Building itself were stationed, under 
 charge of Robert and Terence Greenham, a score 
 of detectives who, having made their marks in 
 police, secret-service or private-agency circles, 
 had been attracted to the financier's service by 
 reason of the salaries he paid. 
 
 For ten seconds Handsome Harry stared at 
 the Masterman Building; then he turned and con- 
 tinued up the side street. He walked past the 
 offices of Bryant, Manners & Company, and on 
 into Broadway, for he was clever enough to give 
 his opponents credit for brains even in the mo- 
 ment of his own triumph. He blessed fate for 
 the wind that had taken off his hat and made him 
 alive to his danger. His lips were smiling as he 
 turned up Broadway, smiling at the good luck 
 that was still with him, that had given him warn- 
 ing when, overconfident, he had been about to 
 betray himself into the hands of Masterman's de- 
 tectives. 
 
 He had never a doubt in the world but that the 
 man he had recognized had been upon his trail, 
 and that undoubtedly there were a dozen others, 
 whom he could not recognize, round him now, in
 
 PLUNDER 47 
 
 the throng that crowded the sidewalk. Martin 
 Masterman was not the man to give ten thousand 
 dollars, much less a million, to any man on any 
 threats, without an effort to avoid payment. 
 And Handsome Harry, flushed with triumph, had 
 almost forgotten that. Almost, but not quite! 
 The smile left his lips and his mouth became 
 grim as he walked on, with a briskness that would 
 deceive those following him into thinking that he 
 had some definite objective point for this walk. 
 
 He looked at his watch and found that it was 
 twenty-five minutes past twelve. It was absurd 
 to hope to throw those whom he knew were upon 
 his trail off the scent in five minutes, and gain 
 the office of Bryant, Manners & Company. As 
 he recognized this fact, and its important corol- 
 lary, that Grant might find the paper in his pock- 
 et, he set his wits to work. He stepped into a 
 cigar store and entered the telephone booth. He 
 got the bucket-shop in a moment. 
 
 "I'd like to speak to Mr. Grant." 
 
 "Not here." 
 
 He choked back an exclamation. His schem- 
 ing brain had evolved a plan whereby he hoped
 
 48 PLUNDER 
 
 to get Grant to meet him, away from the pres- 
 ence of the following detectives, and before, if 
 Fate willed, the clerk had found the paper in his 
 pocket. And Grant was not there. He might 
 at this moment be gloating over the document 
 that meant millions to Handsome Harry Mack! 
 
 "Not there?" His voice was cool enough, 
 though his temples pounded. "Thought he didn't 
 go to lunch until half past twelve?" 
 
 "Went at noon to-day," came the answer. 
 "Any message?" 
 
 "Where does he lunch?" asked Harry. 
 
 "Search me," was the cheerful reply. "Any 
 message ?" 
 
 "N-no," said Handsome Harry. 
 
 He hung up the receiver and was about to 
 open the booth door, when he saw a man lounge 
 into the store and toss a coin upon the cigar 
 case. There is something about the detective 
 that tells the crook of his natural enemy, even as 
 there is about the crook an aura that informs the 
 detective of the presence of his natural prey. 
 Handsome Harry smiled and dropped another 
 coin in the slot.
 
 PLUNDER '49 
 
 "Plaza 90,000," he said. And a moment 
 later: "Mr. Robinson? * Not there? Wrong 
 number? Excuse me." 
 
 Then he rang off and stepped out of the booth. 
 In the door of the cigar store he stood long 
 enough to note that the cigar-purchasing gentle- 
 man had entered the booth. Then he walked up 
 Broadway, still smiling. For the detective, if 
 he inquired what number Harry had just asked 
 for, would be given Plaza 90,000, a number that 
 had hopped into Harry's brain from nowhere at 
 all. Harry knew detectives; it was a million to 
 one that the sleuth would never think of asking 
 if there had been a previous number requested 
 by the crook. And million to one shots are 
 worth playing when millions are at stake. 
 
 But this momentary triumph, if such it could 
 be called, was soon lost sight of in the presence 
 of the defeat that had swept his desperate plans 
 away. Grant had left the bucket-shop before 
 Harry had been able to speak with him! Even 
 now the clerk might be reading the precious doc- 
 ument; even now he might be planning to seize 
 the profit that belonged to Harry Mack. He
 
 50 PLUNDER 
 
 stopped short and clenched his hands. He dared 
 not go in search of Grant; the detectives follow- 
 ing him would undoubtedly arrest him on some 
 trumped-up charge the moment he spoke to any 
 one. And arrest that "any one," too! Further- 
 more, there were hundreds of restaurants and 
 lunch rooms in the down-town district; to which 
 of these could he turn with any real hope of find- 
 ing Grant? 
 
 Just then a saloon near by caught his eye; he 
 entered it, had a stiff drink at the bar and then 
 sat down at a table in the rear, where "Business 
 Men's Lunch" was served. The drink gave back 
 to him that nerve that Grant's absence had 
 shaken. He was himself again; he was able to 
 feel real mirth as he noticed two men enter and 
 line up at the bar. They were men he had never 
 seen before, so far as he knew ; and they did not 
 wear the broad shoe of the detective who has 
 been promoted from the uniformed force. Ap- 
 parently they were prosperous business or profes- 
 sional men. But the eye of Handsome Harry 
 was at its keenest now, and at its keenest it is
 
 PLUNDER 51 
 
 doubtful if any detective living could have hidden 
 his occupation from it. 
 
 Now that he had got his nerve back again, 
 it amused the crook to know that he was fol- 
 lowed. In his own good time he would elude 
 his trailers, clever though they might be; he had 
 no fear of his ability to do that, if he were given 
 time. Handsome Harry ate his steak and fried 
 potatoes leisurely and heartily; he ordered pie, 
 and washed it down with beer. It was a little 
 after one when he arose and paid his check. 
 Grant should be back from luncheon by now. 
 
 There was a booth in the bar. He used it, once 
 to call up the bucket-shop and learn that Grant 
 had not yet returned, and once to call up the Hotel 
 Astor and ask for a Mr. Clarkin, another myth- 
 ical friend. Then he came out of the booth, and 
 any lingering doubt as to the identity of the two 
 men who had lingered drinking at the bar was 
 dispelled when one of them entered the booth. 
 
 Handsome Harry had another drink, to settle 
 nerves a little ruffled again. An hour is a long 
 luncheon time for a clerk in a busy bucket-shop.
 
 52 PLUNDER 
 
 What if Grant had read the paper? He gulped 
 his drink and shook his shoulders to dispel this 
 thought. His every fiber itched to race to the 
 bucket-shop and meet Grant upon his return ; but 
 this he dared not do. He could only wait and 
 phone again. And while he waited he would 
 give his friends the Greenhams a chase. 
 
 He did. He led them to the Battery, a twenty- 
 minute walk. He had another drink there, before 
 telephoning the bucket-shop. Grant had not re- 
 turned! He took a surface car up Broadway, 
 clear to Twenty-third Street. There once again 
 he telephoned, as in the other cases, asking for a 
 second number after learning that Grant was still 
 absent. The clerk who answered the telephone 
 expressed ignorance of any business that could 
 detain Grant so long. Even the various drinks 
 that he had absorbed could no longer give to 
 Handsome Harry the nerve that Grant's strange 
 absence was destroying. For Harry had asked, 
 this last time, if Grant had worn his coat when 
 he went out to luncheon, and was told that he 
 had. There was perspiration on his forehead 
 when, three-quarters of an hour later, he called
 
 PLUNDER 53 
 
 up the office of Bryant, Manners & Company for 
 the last time. 
 
 "Grant hasn't come back from lunch," said the 
 telephone clerk. "And if you're a friend of his 
 and happen to see him to-night, better tell him to 
 frame up a good excuse for the boss. Mr. Man- 
 ners is sore as can be." 
 
 There was no doubt any longer! Grant, as 
 might have been expected from the very begin- 
 ning of Handsome Harry's desperate grab for 
 fortune, had found and read the paper signed by 
 the millionaires ! Handsome Harry knew it, and 
 the knowledge made his light-gray eyes darken, 
 made his muscles tighten, and his thin lips harden. 
 Inured to defeat in his schemes, as is every crook, 
 yet he was not the sort to accept defeat easily. 
 For a moment the anger that swept over him left 
 him speechless. Finally he managed to ask : 
 
 "Can you tell me where he lives? This is 
 Sir Fitz-Roy Bray talking. He was to show me 
 some of the sights of interest in your charming 
 
 city " Once started he lied fluently, and 
 
 the cultured English accent that had been missing 
 in previous inquiries returned to him. "He was
 
 54 PLUNDER 
 
 to take me out to-night, you know, and I've dis- 
 covered that I have a previous engagement " 
 
 The telephone clerk whistled softly to himself. 
 He had not known that Grant and the English- 
 man, whose custom was such an asset to the 
 bucket-shop, were at all friendly. But he did 
 not keep the crook waiting for an answer, great 
 as was his surprise. Like many other good 
 Americans the telephone clerk hated titled per- 
 sonages in the abstract; but in the concrete they 
 were people of whose acquaintance one might 
 brag to one's dying day, incurring the envy of all 
 other royalty-hating Americans. We owe much 
 to England, the mother-country, including snob- 
 bery. 
 
 "Just a minute, Sir Fitz-Roy, sir. One sec- 
 ond. I'll get it." 
 
 And while Handsome Harry drew a furtive 
 hand across a wet forehead, the telephone clerk 
 looked up the address requested. A moment 
 
 later : "His address is West Twenty-third 
 
 Street. But if he ain't there, Sir Fitz-Roy, I'll 
 gladly tell him when he comes in here, if he does. 
 Maybe somethin' 's happened to him though. It
 
 PLUNDER 55 
 
 ain't like him to leave his work all afternoon. 
 And if anythin' had happened to him, and you 
 want to see the town, I'd be glad " 
 
 "Thank you," said Handsome Harry. "Per- 
 haps I will." He rang off. He had presence of 
 mind enough to call up a second number and ask 
 for some non-existent person, wondering, as he 
 did so, how soon the various gentlemen who were 
 always waiting for him to leave the booth would 
 tumble to his trick. 
 
 He was down-town now, near City Hall, hav- 
 ing ridden in a surface car between his Twenty- 
 third Street and his final telephone calls. He 
 wished that he had had sense enough to ask 
 Grant's address earlier. That he hadn't was 
 proof that during the past few hours his acute- 
 ness had been waning. He would go to that ad- 
 dress as soon as he had thrown off the scent the 
 detectives who followed him. And that, given 
 a little time, was simple. 
 
 He entered the lobby of a building near City 
 Hall Park. He knew its various entrances per- 
 fectly. Like the experienced crook that he was, 
 he had spent several afternoons in familiarizing
 
 5 6 PLUNDER 
 
 himself with the floor plans of most of the larger 
 office buildings on Broad Street, Wall Street, 
 Nassau Street, lower Broadway and other thor- 
 oughfares. He rarely neglected details that 
 might later aid him in a get-away. That care re- 
 paid him now, for he knew the building which he 
 entered. 
 
 He waited in the lobby a moment, until the 
 starter signaled a car to go aloft, then he sprang 
 forward just in time to avoid being caught by the 
 closing door of the elevator. He might have 
 been crushed by the door and rising car. That 
 was a risk of the trade. But he was not, and 
 the angrily cursing elevator boy was silenced by 
 the bill which Handsome Harry thrust into his 
 hand. 
 
 "The fourth floor," snapped Harry. "I'm in 
 a hurry!" 
 
 Potent is money. The elevator was an ex- 
 press, due to make no stops before the twelfth 
 floor; but it stopped and Handsome Harry 
 bounded into the corridor. While Greenham 
 operatives took later elevators and combed the
 
 PLUNDER 57 
 
 upper floors, he had walked down three flights 
 of stairs that led to a side exit, and was out of 
 the building. A few minutes later, and he was 
 on a Ninth Avenue elevated train. In twenty 
 minutes he was ringing the door-bell at a number 
 on West Twenty-third Street. 
 
 "Is Mr. Grant in?" he inquired. 
 
 The slattern maid looked at him. She shook 
 her head. 
 
 "He ain't here." 
 
 "Has he been here this afternoon?" 
 
 This time she nodded. 
 
 "About a hour ago." 
 
 "When will he be back?" 
 
 "He won't be back. He paid his bill and 
 packed his suit-case and left. He said he'd send 
 for his trunk next week maybe. But he's gone 
 for good ! And he didn't leave no address." 
 
 Before this doubt had departed; now hope 
 went the same way. Young Grant had read the 
 paper, and had disappeared, that from some un- 
 known point of vantage he might reap the reward 
 that should have been Handsome Harry's but
 
 58 PLUNDER 
 
 for the meddling of Detective Connors. There 
 and then Handsome Harry swore an oath to get 
 even with that gentleman of the police. 
 
 The slattern slavey watched him with interest 
 as he went down the path through the narrow 
 grass-plot that fronts the block of houses where 
 Grant had roomed. 
 
 "I'll bet," she told herself, "that Mr. Grant 
 s him money an' is duckin' town on that ac- 
 count." 
 
 She could not know that she was looking upon 
 a man upon whose door Opportunity had 
 knocked, only to pass along before he could 
 answer.
 
 TWO people stared at each other across the 
 white cloth of a restaurant table. Their 
 tea grew cold, and the pile of English muffins 
 had not diminished since the waiter had brought 
 them half an hour before. Dimpled elbows on 
 the table and firm chin in palms, the girl stared^ 
 at the man. Less nervous than he, it, neverthe- 
 less, was evident that the strain under which he 
 so patiently labored had communicated itself to 
 her. For the dozenth time she put the question : 
 
 "And you're sure it's genuine?" 
 
 "I've seen their signatures hundreds of times 
 on stock certificates," replied the young man. 
 "Furthermore, the newspapers have had accounts 
 of Masterman's conferences with Schlossfelt and ' 
 Montfoucault. The papers couldn't guess the 
 reason for the conferences, but we can guess 
 now, eh?" 
 
 Her voice did not partake of the triumph that 
 was in his. 
 
 59
 
 60 PLUNDER 
 
 "Yes, we can," she agreed soberly. There 
 was a moment's silence. "And you haven't even 
 the vaguest idea of how it came into your coat 
 pocket?" 
 
 He shook his head. 
 
 "I've told you all I know, Kirby. I went to 
 lunch a bit early to-day. I wore my raincoat, 
 not because it was cloudy, but because of my cold. 
 As I was taking it off in Moquin's I felt a paper 
 in the pocket. I took it out and read it. Then 
 well. I've told you how I felt, what I did, 
 how I wandered the streets for a couple of hours, 
 trying to make up my mind, trying to fathom 
 the mystery of how it got into my possession. I 
 gave up wondering about that. I had it, that 
 was enough. And I knew that it was genuine ; I 
 know it now! I couldn't go back to the office; 
 whoever put that paper in my coat might come 
 back for it. And my title to it was certainly as 
 good as the title of the man who placed it there. 
 It was undoubtedly stolen, and it was a danger- 
 ous thing to have in one's possession. Men have 
 been killed for things worth a thousandth part 
 what this paper is worth. And as I couldn't
 
 PLUNDER 61 
 
 make up my mind what to do, and knew my dan- 
 ger well, I went home, packed a suit-case, gave 
 up my room, paid my bill, telephoned you, and 
 here we are!" 
 
 He tried to laugh, but there was little mirth 
 in his tones. 
 
 "You wanted my advice, Dick?" He nodded. 
 She was thoughtful. "And hadn't you planned 
 anything ?" 
 
 He smiled nervously. 
 
 "Well, I'd planned honeymooning with you 
 on one of the finest yachts afloat. I'd planned 
 a place in the hills of Virginia, a suite overlook- 
 ing Central Park, a bungalow at Palm Beacji and 
 a villa at Bar Harbor. I hadn't planned much 
 beyond that, Kirby." 
 
 She looked him in the eye. He met her gaze 
 shamefacedly, yet with a certain questioning. 
 She shook her head slowly. 
 
 "You really hadn't planned to blackmail 
 them?" 
 
 "That's an ugly word, Kirby. Let us say 
 that I had something to sell worth some mil- 
 lions probably. If they wanted to buy "
 
 62 PLUNDER 
 
 "You don't mean that, Dick." 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 "You couldn't!" 
 
 "I might." 
 
 He swallowed painfully and reached for a muf- 
 fin. Between the strong fingers of his right 
 hand he crumpled the bread. He leaned across 
 the table until his face was close to hers. The 
 waiter, who had observed with rising choler their 
 failure to touch either tea or muffins, smiled 
 vaguely to himself. It was a lovers' tiff, in pro- 
 cess now of being made up. Soon they would 
 ring for fresh tea and would be smiling at each 
 other. The waiter's tip would be very large. 
 
 "Look here, Kirby," said the young man, 
 "think what this means! Trips abroad, yachts, 
 automobiles, country houses " 
 
 " 'And he took Him up upon a mountain and 
 showed Him the kingdoms of the earth,' " said 
 the girl. The youth flushed. "Dick," she went 
 on, "you don't, you can't mean it!" 
 
 "You think so?" He smiled, a mocking ten- 
 derness in his eyes. "You really think that I'm 
 good enough to give up a chance at millions ?"
 
 PLUNDER 63 
 
 "Good isn't the word," she answered. "Strong 
 enough! The man I love is strong enough to 
 put behind him the wrong and to choose the 
 right. There are times when mere 'goodness' 
 is not enough for that; it requires strength, and 
 the man I love is strong." 
 
 He flushed. 
 
 "And I earn twenty-two dollars a week, Kirby. 
 By the time I'm thirty-five I may be making 
 enough to be married on." 
 
 "You're making enough now," she retorted. 
 
 "What do you mean?" A light leaped into 
 his eye. 
 
 "I mean that I am ready to marry you at any 
 time, Dick; ready to share whatever you may 
 provide in honesty. In honesty!" 
 
 "And if I made a few millions out of this " 
 
 "I should not marry you," she said slowly. 
 
 Let those laugh at love who will. It works its 
 marvels just the same. For Dixon Grant, an 
 average youth of average morals, put behind him 
 the chance for a fortune all because of love. 
 Let those who work for twenty-two dollars a 
 week ask themselves if they can blame Dixon
 
 64 PLUNDER 
 
 Grant for those dreams which love dispelled. 
 For love did dispel them. His fingers dropped 
 the crumbled muffin. 
 
 "I guess, Kirby, that if you're satisfied with an 
 eleven-hundred-a-year man he ought to be satis- 
 fied with his job." 
 
 For a second her fingers touched his and her 
 eyes smiled at him. 
 
 "I knew, Dick, you didn't really mean it." 
 
 "Don't rate me too highly," he said ruefully. 
 "I did mean it! Think of those three thieves! 
 What they have is theirs by right of might. My 
 right is as great as theirs " 
 
 "That sounds well, Dick; but it won't stand the 
 acid, and you know it. Stealing from a thief is 
 stealing just the same." 
 
 He sighed; then laughed resignedly. "Well, I 
 guess it's exit Mr. Dixon Grant, multimillionaire; 
 enter Dick Grant, clerk. What have you to say 
 to him?" 
 
 "Many things that will wait a more suitable 
 place, Dick." Her eyes shone as she looked at 
 him. "Other things that must be said now. What 
 are you going to do?"
 
 PLUNDER 65 
 
 "Go down to Masterman's office, hand in the 
 paper, and maybe accept the job he'll give me," 
 he answered. 
 
 "And yet you sent for me to ask my advice?" 
 "That was when I planned hang it all, Kirby, 
 I don't suppose I really intended to blackmail 
 them! I only knew the possession of the paper 
 was dangerous; that I might well," flushing, 
 "I wanted to get away and think; with you to 
 help me. I was rattled, dazed! Now, what is 
 there to be done? The paper really isn't mine. 
 If I can't use it to get money out of them I can't 
 use it to get money out of a newspaper. I can't 
 use it at all. I might as well return it to Master- 
 man and get the thing over with, go back to the 
 office to-morrow and take up my job again, 
 and " 
 
 "And let Masterman and the others go ahead 
 with their plans to scourge the country?" 
 
 "What can I do to stop them?" he asked bit- 
 terly. 
 
 "Is there anything that compels you to return 
 that paper to them?" 
 
 "But I can't use it for my own benefit."
 
 66 PLUNDER 
 
 "How about a greater benefit than yours or 
 ours, Dick? How about a benefit to the coun- 
 try?" 
 
 "You mean " 
 
 Face flushed, eyes sparkling, she looked at 
 him. 
 
 "Dick, to try to acquire benefit for yourself 
 from the possession of this paper is to commit 
 blackmail. To benefit the country is war ! This 
 paper shows that Masterman and his crowd are 
 enemies to the nation, desirous of crushing the 
 people into the ground. Masterman would pay 
 millions to you to get that paper back, for it 
 means revolution, Dick, if the people learn of its 
 contents." 
 
 He didn't quite grasp her meaning. 
 
 "You mean then that I should turn it over to 
 some paper without pay, of course?" 
 
 "No, that would mean revolution! And what 
 would revolution gain the people? Masterman 
 and his crowd would be ousted, but the whole 
 system would start all over again, plus the handi- 
 cap which revolution always imposes." 
 
 He shook his head.
 
 PLUNDER 67 
 
 "Then what?" 
 
 "Organize a new system! You saw enough to 
 realize that whoever put that paper in your pocket 
 would do murder to get it back. But the Mas- 
 terman crowd they, too, would do murder and 
 worse to get that paper back ! Don't you see, that 
 as long as they can't get it back, as long as it 
 hangs over their heads, we can do what we will 
 with them. They're our servants, Dick, and 
 we we are the servants of the people." 
 
 Again his fingers toyed with the crumbled 
 muffin. 
 
 "Make war on Masterman and his crowd?" 
 
 "They are enemies, avowed enemies this 
 paper proves it of the people. Because the peo- 
 ple would go insane with wrath if they knew of 
 this paper, we will not show it to them. But 
 we ourselves will declare a people's war upon 
 Masterman and the rest. We will make them 
 return what they have stolen from the public. 
 We can do it!" 
 
 "King Dick and Queen Kirby, eh?" he smiled. 
 "How long do you suppose we could get away 
 with it? A 1 thousand detectives "
 
 68 PLUNDER 
 
 "You'd have risked that for money," she 
 countered. 
 
 "I'll risk it for the people," he said, flushing. 
 "Only, I can't have you " 
 
 "Who will know ? You have disappeared ; we 
 will give no names; no one will know who we 
 are." 
 
 "We're taking a lot on our shoulders, Kirby. 
 Wiser and older heads might counsel - 
 
 "We don't know what wiser and older heads 
 would counsel," she cried ; "but we do know what 
 we can do. We can make Masterman return 
 what he has stolen. After all, what can be wiser 
 than justice ? And that is all we shall ask. Dick, 
 you and I will accomplish what revolutions could 
 not, because the people are always blinded by 
 false leaders; because, too, the people are them- 
 selves selfish, with each out for himself and his 
 own. Where Masterman would have set the 
 World back, we will advance it!" 
 
 "All with this little paper," he said "if it's 
 genuine." 
 
 "But you said " She pushed back her
 
 PLUNDER 69 
 
 chair and rose. "Dick, I'll know in a moment 
 if it's genuine. I'll know!" 
 
 She made for a telephone booth in the hall out- 
 side the restaurant entrance, he following her, 
 still a bit overwhelmed by the magnitude of the 
 plan she proposed. She asked for Masterman's 
 office. The telephone girl waved her to a booth. 
 She made room inside for Dick. 
 
 "Mr. Masterman himself, please," she re- 
 quested. "Busy? Then tell him it has to do with 
 a certain paper signed by him and two other 
 gentlemen." She gripped Dick's hand with 
 nervous fingers. There was a moment of wait- 
 ing, then: "Mr. Masterman? You lost a paper 
 to-day signed by yourself, Mr. Blaisdell and Mr. 
 Cardigan. You know to what I refer? Yes? 
 Mr. Masterman, I want you to issue universal 
 transfers for the city. I want you to send for the 
 reporters at once and announce the fact. At 
 once! I shall expect to read of it in the morn- 
 ing papers. You understand ? I have that paper. 
 If the announcement is not made, and if its pro- 
 visions are not carried into effect by to-morrow
 
 7 o PLUNDER 
 
 noon you may guess the answer, Mr. Master- 
 man." 
 
 She hung up the receiver with one hand and 
 with the other pushed Grant before her from the 
 booth. 
 
 "What did he say?" queried Grant. 
 
 "Pay your check hurry," she commanded. 
 "Hurry!" She stamped her foot. 
 
 Grant stared, but only for a second. He hur- 
 ried into the dining-room and gave the waiter 
 a bill. He did not wait for his change, but seized 
 his hat from the chair on which it lay and came 
 out into the hall. Kirby was not there. He 
 looked around, bewildered. 
 
 "Lady went outside," volunteered the tele- 
 phone girl. "Said for you to " 
 
 Her instrument engaged her attention then, and 
 Grant waited for no more. As he passed through 
 the street door the telephone girl's dull eyes 
 lighted. She rang a buzzer and in a moment the 
 house detective stood before her. 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 "Office of Martin Masterman wanted young 
 woman trailed She just left here blue tailored
 
 PLUNDER 71 
 
 suit, hat with green feather, brown hair, gray 
 eyes. Better hustle." 
 
 The house detective hustled, marveling, as he 
 did so, at that facility for description of another 
 woman's costume possessed by all women. He 
 hustled, for whatever Martin Masterman wanted 
 he usually got. But the taxi-starter informed him 
 that the couple had driven off "just for a drive 
 round," the girl had said. There was no use in 
 pursuit; they might have gone in any one of a 
 hundred directions once they turned the corner. 
 The chauffeur would tell later where he dropped 
 them. So the house detective returned to the 
 telephone, where he called up the Masterman 
 offices and expressed his great regret that he had 
 been unable to serve the billionaire who, by the 
 way, owned in fee simple the site of the restau- 
 rant and, therefore, was so willingly served by 
 its employees. And Martin Masterman, learning 
 of the detective's failure the second of the kind 
 that day, for it had already been reported to him 
 that the Greenham men had lost Handsome Harry 
 stared blankly at Blaisdell and Cardigan, still 
 with him in the private office !
 
 72 PLUNDER 
 
 Meanwhile, uncomprehending but knowing 
 that Miss Kirby Rowland did nothing without 
 very good reason, Grant had stepped into the 
 taxicab in which the girl was already seated. It 
 had started immediately. As they rounded the 
 first corner the youth looked at the girl. 
 
 "Well, for heaven's sake, Kirby, what was the 
 hurry?" he asked, with that resentment which 
 comes to every one on having to obey unexplained 
 instructions. 
 
 "I heard Masterman telling some one to find 
 out where my call came from," she answered, 
 "and I'm certain the hotel people would have 
 detained us. That wouldn't have done." 
 
 "Not if we're going ahead with our people's 
 war," he answered. 
 
 She turned and looked at him. 
 
 "Dick, we are! And we've won. I know it, 
 the first battle." 
 
 "Did he say he'd do it about the transfers?" 
 
 "He begged me to wait a moment," she 
 answered. "He begged me to come down and 
 see him. But I rang off. Dick, he'll do it !"
 
 PLUNDER 73 
 
 "If he doesn't, Your Highness, he'll hear from 
 King Dick to-morrow." 
 
 But he ceased to smile as he noted the quiver 
 of her lips. 
 
 "Dick, we're doing right; I know we are, 
 b-but " 
 
 She had brain enough to conceive and inaugu- 
 rate a war upon the most powerful combination 
 of capital the world had ever known, and cour- 
 age and resolution enough not to be deterred 
 from continuing the war, but she was a woman, 
 and in love. There were tears in her eyes as, in 
 the shelter of the taxicab, Dick drew her to him. 
 
 "I I'm afraid," she confessed. 
 
 So, if the truth were told, was he, a little. 
 Millions of money have awed older and wiser 
 men. But her own momentary weakening 
 strengthened his own nerve. Perhaps that was 
 why she permitted herself to show weakness. 
 Women make men in various ways; sometimes 
 they appeal to love, and other times to pride. But 
 they usually know just exactly what they are 
 doing.
 
 74 PLUNDER 
 
 "You needn't be," he said. "They'll never find 
 us not until we've won!" 
 
 "And we will we must!" She drew away 
 from him and dabbed at her eyes with a very 
 small handkerchief. "That's over," she an- 
 nounced with a smile. "Tell the chauffeur to 
 take us to the square." 
 
 Grant did so obediently. They alighted a lit- 
 tle later and entered the subway. 
 
 "If we should be followed the starter might 
 have given the number of this car. Dick, we 
 might be located, driving 1 round." 
 
 "You think of everything," he said admiringly. 
 
 "I don't," she said, "but I'm going to try. 
 Dick, do you know that you might be traced? 
 The man, whoever he was, who put that paper 
 in your pocket may look you up." 
 
 "I've thought of that. I've moved at least, 
 I've left my room." 
 
 "But you mustn't stay in the city," she urged. 
 "The Masterman money will be spent in search 
 for you. Every man that works in your office 
 may be hired to look for you, because they know 
 you."
 
 PLUNDER 75 
 
 "But Masterman didn't put the paper in my 
 pocket," laughed Dick. "He certainly doesn't 
 know I have it." 
 
 "But he may find it out," persisted the girl. 
 "Anyway, too many people in this city know you 
 by sight. You must leave the city. Dick, your 
 life isn't safe." 
 
 Another man to another girl might have replied 
 soothingly, and laughed at the danger. But Dixon 
 Grant knew Kirby Rowland ; knew her to be one 
 of those girls with whom one may talk as with 
 another man; who; despite momentary lapses 
 into fear, is brave and resourceful too. Frank- 
 ness, the frankness of love and mutual respect, 
 is the only way to deal with such women. 
 
 "I know that, Kirby," he said, with unwonted 
 solemnity, for him. "And you how about that 
 telephone girl?" 
 
 "She will remember my clothes, supposing that! 
 she should be asked," smiled the girl. "I'll not 
 wear these things again, and my hair will be 
 dressed differently. She will never know me if 
 she sees me. But you Dick, where is your suit- 
 case?"
 
 ;6 PLUNDER 
 
 "At the terminal." 
 
 "Go there, get it and go into Jersey." 
 
 "And when do we two meet again ?" he smiled. 
 
 "I'll come over to see you, and plan," she 
 answered. 
 
 "Without a chaperon?" he chaffed. 
 
 "Dick, conventions are forgotten in war. And 
 this, Dick, this is war for the people against 
 their masters!" 
 
 The subway train in which they rode stopped 
 and they alighted. 
 
 "Don't wait," she ordered. "Go quickly. 
 Some one might get off the trains, some one who 
 knew you. And, Dick, take care of that paper, 
 won't you? Keep it safe. If you should lose 
 it Dick, we have a chance given to few in this 
 world to benefit the people. We mustn't lose it." 
 
 "Do you want to keep it?" he asked. 
 
 "I wish you'd let me." 
 
 He took the paper from his pocket and handed 
 it to her. She folded it and put it in the bottom 
 of her hand-bag. 
 
 "You trust me, don't you, Dick?" 
 
 "Your Royal Highness, Queen Kirby the First,
 
 PLUNDER 77 
 
 I love you. Is that enough? And where will 
 Your Majesty secrete this document worth a 
 people's ransom?" 
 
 She looked at him ; her eyes crinkled. 
 
 "The Masterman vaults are the best in the 
 world, aren't they?" 
 
 He stared. 
 
 "Kirby, you're a genius!" 
 
 "I'm a woman," she answered. 
 
 "The same thing in your case. And you'll 
 take it there?" 
 
 "Now!" 
 
 He lingered. 
 
 "I let you do the fighting, while I run away, 
 eh?" 
 
 "To come back and fight another day. It's 
 the same thing." 
 
 "Then I suppose I'll have to do it for the sake 
 of variety," he laughed. 
 
 A south-bound train roared into the station. 
 
 "I'll take it," she said quickly. "And, Dick, 
 please get out of the city now! War has its 
 dogs, and they're unleashed now. Go, will you, 
 please ?"
 
 78 PLUNDER 
 
 "The minute you're aboard that train," he 
 answered. 
 
 That minute came and went; he watched the 
 lights of the train until they disappeared. Then 
 he climbed the steps from the subway and 
 boarded an open car bound west. At Seventh 
 Avenue he took another car to the terminal. 
 While he rode he wondered how this war, in 
 which he was so suddenly enlisted, would come 
 out; wondered, shamefacedly, how it was that 
 he, a son of people who had worked with their 
 hands for their living 1 , should not have thought 
 at once of the benefit for the people that this 
 strangely found document held, but had to be 
 reminded of them by Kirby Rowland, daughter 
 of cultured ancestors who had been of the pro- 
 fessional class, who was herself a miniature 
 painter of promise, and whose every association 
 was with a class of people who often think, if 
 they do think at all, only with tolerant scorn of 
 the submerged nine-tenths. Why was it ? It was 
 as mysterious as that other question of why Kirby 
 Rowland, able to choose almost where she willed,
 
 PLUNDER 79 
 
 should love Dixon Grant, clerk in a bucket-shop! 
 He was still puzzling when he alighted from the 
 surface car at the terminal. . . . 
 
 It was almost closing hour at the Masterman 
 vaults, in the cellars of the Masterman Building, 
 when Kirby Rowland arrived there. But a pretty 
 girl has privileges beyond other people. The 
 Masterman vaults stayed open five minutes 
 beyond their ordinary closing time in order that 
 "Miss Margaret Blake" might be assigned a box 
 and might deposit therein certain papers of value. 
 She did so, paid a quarter's rent and left. 
 
 The elevated deposited her at her destination 
 half an hour later. A few minutes afterward 
 saw her in her little Greenwich Village studio 
 apartment. Another little while, and she was 
 brewing tea. Still a little later, and she was 
 seated by the window, overlooking a tiny park, 
 staring into the waning day, a teacup on her 
 knee. She was dreaming, not of love alone, but 
 of how complete her love would be when she and 
 Grant had carried into effect their plans, as yet 
 inchoate, along lines suggested by her demand
 
 8o PLUNDER 
 
 of a short time before upon the master of trans- 
 portation. In her heart burned fires greater than 
 those of patriotism the fires of love for her 
 kind. A student of economics, she believed with 
 all the ardor of youth that civilization, by rea- 
 son of its own complexity, had failed to civilize, 
 that slavery was to-day as real a thing as ever 
 in the feudal ages. Now a great opportunity 
 had been offered her, and she wondered, fear- 
 somely, if she and Grant were capable of using 
 it. Her forehead was crisscrossed with wrinkles ; 
 her eyes were narrowed and unseeing as she 
 looked out into the evening. Then a knock at 
 her studio door brought her back to the pres- 
 ent. 
 
 She opened the door. A man, extremely 
 good-looking, and groomed with a care that made 
 her think of Piccadilly, bowed to her. 
 
 "Miss Kirby Rowland, the miniature painter?" 
 
 She inclined her head. 
 
 "My name is Bray." He handed her a card. 
 She read: "Sir Fitz-Roy Eustace Clavering 
 Bray, Allston, Suffolk."
 
 "I found a letter from you on his body"
 
 PLUNDER 81 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 "I came to see you about a mutual friend, Mr. 
 Dixon Grant. May I come in?" 
 
 He followed her into the room. He appraised 
 the furnishings with a knowing eye. If he 
 noted her perturbation he hid it from her. 
 
 "You're quite a friend of Mr. Grant's, are 
 you not?" he inquired. 
 
 "Why do you ask?" 
 
 "I found a letter from you on his body," was 
 the reply. 
 
 "On his his body? Has he " 
 
 "Killed," said Sir Fitz-Roy. 
 
 She put out a hand and grasped an easel on 
 which stood a landscape, evidence of her attempts 
 at other than miniature painting. The piercing 
 eyes of the well-groomed gentleman read the 
 emotion reflected on her face. 
 
 "K-killed," she whispered. "Oh, not that!" 
 
 The well-groomed gentleman sat down and 
 crossed his legs. 
 
 "No, not that, Miss Rowland," he said. "I 
 just wanted to be sure that you knew him pretty
 
 82 PLUNDER 
 
 well and thought a lot of him. I know now. 
 Please excuse my scaring you. Grant's all right, 
 as far as I know. Buck up! I want to talk 
 to you. I want to know if he's told you what 
 he's done with a paper I put in his pocket this 
 morning. That's all, Miss Rowland."
 
 VI 
 
 OPPORTUNITY had knocked at the door 
 of Handsome Harry Mack, and had 
 passed on. He had been perched high upon the 
 elevation of his own imaginings and his fall had 
 been tremendous. The disappearance of Dixon 
 Grant had been the blow to toss him into the 
 abyss of despair. But he had the elastic nature 
 possessed by every high-class crook, and the 
 harder he fell the higher, after an interval, his 
 spirits rose. For obstacles but spurred him on, 
 defeat but made him the more dangerous. 
 
 At first he was overwhelmed by the informa- 
 tion given him by the slavey. He entered a 
 saloon, prepared to drown the broken hopes of 
 the morning. He did not stop to reason or to 
 plan, but he had the temperament upon which 
 liquor acts as a spur, not a halter. His first 
 drink he gulped, his second he sipped, his third 
 he carried to a table in a corner. This drink 
 
 83
 
 84 PLUNDER 
 
 he did not touch for several minutes, and in the 
 meantime he thought hard. 
 
 His position was not so hopeless, now that he 
 began to think. In the first place, young Grant 
 must be a crook like himself. Handsome Harry 
 did not, of course, refer to himself as a crook; 
 he merely stated, mentally, that the young book- 
 keeper must be "out for himself, like me." It 
 is by equivocation that conscience is soothed, 
 'And what would a person "out for himself" do 
 upon discovery of such a valuable document as 
 the paper signed by the millionaires? 
 
 Certainly, if he intended to deliver it to its 
 signers he would not steal swiftly away from his 
 lodgings, leaving no address. If he proposed 
 selling it to some newspaper there would be no 
 need for him to disappear. He would need to 
 hide himself only if he purposed doing what 
 Handsome Harry himself had intended doing, 
 and so dreaded the very men he intended to 
 mulct. 
 
 And the mulcting would take time! Not very 
 long, but quite a while! There would be the 
 preliminary demand, the negotiations. Hand
 
 PLUNDER 85 
 
 some Harry lifted his third drink. Into his eyes 
 flashed that avid gleam that had been absent 
 since certainty of Grant's reading of the docu- 
 ment had come to him. He seemed to be drink- 
 ing a toast to himself. 
 
 "If I can't locate him before he gets to Mas- 
 terman, then I'll take back all I've ever said about 
 detectives. Their jobs are harder than they 
 look." 
 
 He set the glass down empty. Then he left 
 the saloon and retraced his steps to the lodging 
 house. For his search was to begin again where 
 it had left off, and was to start with obedience 
 to that old and wise command: "Find the 
 woman." 
 
 The slavey looked surprised at the reappear- 
 ance of Handsome Harry. 
 
 "I want to see your mistress," said the inter- 
 national crook. 
 
 "She don't know where Mr. Grant went, but 
 I'll get her just the same," she added delightedly, 
 as her palm came in contact with a bill. 
 
 "You came a little while ago asking for Mr. 
 Grant, didn't you?" inquired the landlady, ,a
 
 86 PLUNDER 
 
 moment later. "Well, I can't tell you where he 
 went; he didn't tell me. He left in an awful 
 rush, just like the police was after him. If it 
 hadn't been that he'd always paid up regular 
 every Saturday night, and never caused any 
 trouble, not being the drinking kind, I'd 'a* 
 thought he'd done something and was doing a 
 Dutch. What you want him for?" 
 
 Handsome Harry shoved back his coat lapel. 
 The landlady caught a glimpse of silver. 
 
 "You ain't a bull?" she gasped. "What's Mr. 
 Grant been doing? It ain't going to get in the 
 papers, is it, about him rooming with me, and 
 give my house a bad name? Lord knows, it's 
 hard enough for a decent woman to get lodgers, 
 without the papers having it that she runs a house 
 for crooks!" 
 
 "The papers will print nothing about this," 
 Handsome Harry assured her. "As a matter of 
 fact, it's something that's got to be kept out of 
 the papers. Too big a matter, madam. You 
 understand, of course." 
 
 He smiled meaningly. The landlady hadn't 
 the slightest idea what he was driving at, but
 
 PLUNDER 87 
 
 she nodded emphatically. Here was mystery, and 
 she was keen for mystery. 
 
 "And just to think of Mr. Grant being so meek 
 and mild and pleasant, and regular as clock work 
 with the rent, when all the time he was robbing 
 and murdering!" She shivered delightedly. 
 "He ain't murdered any one, has he?" 
 
 "Not yet," said Handsome Harry porten- 
 tously. "That's why I've got to get on his trail. 
 You can't tell what he will do." 
 
 "Them quiet kind is desperate, ain't they?" 
 said the landlady. "My first husband was like 
 that. All week he was like a mouse, but come 
 Saturday night and the pay envelope, and, mister, 
 you couldn't tell him from a threshing machine 
 after his second drink. Desperate? He'd bat 
 a bull over the chops quick's he'd look at him, 
 come Saturday night. You never can tell!" 
 
 "Right," agreed Handsome Harry. "And 
 now do you know anything about Grant? 
 Where he'd be liable to go? Who his friends 
 are?" 
 
 She lifted her hands above her head. 
 
 "Honest, mister, I don't. I never butt into
 
 88 PLUNDER 
 
 my lodgers' private affairs. If I'd known Mr. 
 Grant was a crook what'd you say he did, any- 
 way?" 
 
 "I'll let you know later, maybe," said Harry. 
 "At present I'm trusting you a whole lot in let- 
 ting you know he's wanted." 
 
 "I'm a clam," said the landlady quickly. "Not 
 a word outa me; but I don't know any of his 
 friends at all." 
 
 "He left his trunk? Let me see it." 
 
 Her eyebrows raised. 
 
 "It's locked. You wouldn't open it without a 
 warrant, would you? And if I let you I'd be 
 liable " 
 
 Handsome Harry drew a roll of bills from 
 his pockets. He stripped off two of them. 
 
 "Will that be enough? Mind, Grant will 
 never come back and start anything, but " 
 
 "I'd do most anything for a couple of these," 
 said the landlady. "Come along." 
 
 Harry followed her to a hall bedroom on 
 the second floor, whence the trunk of Grant had 
 not yet been removed to the cellar for storage 
 until he sent for it. It took the crook just two
 
 PLUNDER 89 
 
 minutes to open the trunk; it took him little 
 longer to discover that there was in it not a 
 scrap of paper, not a picture, not a single thing 
 that would tell who were the friends of Dixon 
 Grant. The clerk either had no friends who 
 wrote to him, or he destroyed their letters. 
 
 Handsome Harry arose from the trunk. 
 
 "Nothing here," he said gloomily. "And you 
 never heard him say anything about any sweet- 
 heart, any intimate friends? Nothing like that?" 
 
 "He never talked about himself at all," was 
 the reply. "He had friends all right, for he 
 went out quite often at night, but he never 
 mentioned them. And he wasn't only on bow- 
 ing terms with the people in the house. Kept 
 apart from them. I don't know a thing about 
 him." 
 
 "Never saw the address on any letter he 
 wrote or received?" 
 
 The landlady colored. 
 
 "Would I be apt to look, mister?" 
 
 But the maid who, unrebuked, had followed 
 them to the hall room, could contain herself 
 no longer; also, she had no false shame. What-
 
 9d PLUNDER 
 
 ever she did she was willing to admit she did, 
 especially to a gentleman that handed out five- 
 dollar bills to a servant and fifties to her mis- 
 tress. 
 
 "I seen a letter to him," she announced. "He 
 forgot it one morning. It was on his bureau. 
 I hadn't read it all when he come back and 
 bawled me out sump'n awful, but I seen the 
 name and address. It was from somebody 
 what signed herself Kirby and lived in thcs 
 Greenwich Studios." 
 
 "A man," said Harry thoughtfully. 
 
 "She began it 'My dearest Dick,' " said the 
 slavey. 
 
 "A girl," said Handsome Harry. He strip- 
 ped another bill from his roll, and the maid 
 gasped with delight. 
 
 Handsome Harry hardly heard the gasp, 
 for he was running down-stairs. It was char- 
 acteristic of him that in his excitement he did 
 not forget to reward the maid. Like nearly 
 all crooks, he was generous. Easy come, easy 
 go. Two women, the richer by one hundred 
 and fifty-five dollars for his call, stared blankly
 
 PLUNDER 91 
 
 at each other. It was a long time before they 
 got their breath. Then the mistress spoke. 
 
 "The first thing I do, Mamie," she said earn- 
 estly, "is to get me that tailored blouse for 
 twenty-two-fifty I saw at Lacy's." 
 
 "And the first thing I do, Missus Kimball, is 
 to get me a pair of new garters," said the slavey. 
 "These ones I has is all wore out, and believe 
 me, I ain't trustin' fifty-five in bills to them! 
 No, ma'am!" 
 
 Then, fairly started and limbered up, their 
 voices beat against the air like hail upon the 
 window-panes. About this time Handsome 
 Harry, having learned Kirby's last name by a 
 glance at the cards above the letter boxes on 
 the ground floor of the Greenwich Studios, and 
 having learned her professional specialty by 
 asking the elevator boy, entered the young 
 woman's apartment, and, by his lightning as- 
 sault, learned at once that she was, if not in 
 love with Dixon Grant, at least a dear enough 
 friend to justify him in having followed the 
 maxim "Find the woman." 
 
 Reassured that Grant was not really dead,
 
 92 PLUNDER 
 
 Kirby sank into a chair; the color came back to 
 her cheeks; her eyes, that had been staring, now 
 narrowed. She surveyed Handsome Harry as 
 though he were some subject for her deft 
 brushes. She was a real artist, which means 
 that she did more than transfer to ivory fea- 
 tures and coloring; she transferred character as 
 well. She had that ability to read souls inval- 
 uable to those who live by their brains. For of 
 these is the artist. It is his brain, more than 
 his cunning hand, that lifts him to fame. And 
 she read the character of Handsome Harry in 
 that swift glance from under lowered lids that 
 she bestowed on him before he spoke again. 
 She read his dishonesty, the cruelty latent be- 
 neath the impulsive generosity, the craft behind 
 the frank countenance, so good-looking in an ani- 
 mal way. And she did not fear him. 
 
 "Well, recovered? Sorry I had to shock you, 
 but you can guess why, Miss Rowland. Now, 
 then, let's not waste any time. Where is Grant ?" 
 
 "Not admitting your right to question me," 
 she answered, "I do not know where he is." 
 
 "And the fact that you don't order me out
 
 PLUNDER 93 
 
 of here proves that you know all about the 
 paper I put in his pocket," said Harry shrewdly. 
 
 "And if I do?" Her hand strayed to a flat 
 desk by the chair into which she had sunk, and 
 toyed with a silver paper-knife. 
 
 "Why, then you don't dare order me out," 
 was Harry's reply. 
 
 She realized that Handsome Harry had been 
 drinking heavily; but whether he had drunk 
 enough to be on the verge of sudden intoxica- 
 tion or not she did not know. She knew that 
 anger sometimes hastens the effect of liquor, 
 and did not wish to anger him more than would 
 be necessary, for there were a hundred reasons 
 why this erstwhile possessor of the document 
 whereby she was to reconstruct civilization 
 should not go to pieces in her studio. She did 
 not know yet that liquor's only effect on Hand- 
 some Harry was to render him more crafty, 
 more cruel, more dangerous than in his normal 
 condition. 
 
 He watched her face, and, somewhat of a 
 character reader himself, knew that he had no 
 mean opponent to deal with.
 
 94 PLUNDER 
 
 "What's Grant going to do with that paper?" 
 he demanded. That she knew of Grant's inten- 
 tions he did not doubt for a moment. 
 
 "What did you intend to do with it?" she 
 countered. 
 
 "Sell it for a million dollars," he answered 
 frankly. "I found it; I had to slip it into his 
 pocket because I was due to stand a pinch." He 
 had dropped all pretense of titled culture now. 
 "I put it in the handiest place, thinking I'd get 
 it back O. K. I didn't. Grant has it. But" 
 and his voice was hard "I don't intend Grant 
 or any one else to slip in ahead of me. I'll 
 divide; I'm no piker; I'll play fair and square. 
 But I want that paper!" 
 
 "You stole it?" 
 
 "It came into my hands by accident. It left 
 my hands by hard luck. But it takes more than 
 hard luck to put me out of business. I've found 
 out where Grant's best friend lives; it won't be 
 hard for me to find out where Grant himself 
 is. And if I have to find out without help I'll 
 get it all, I won't divide." 
 
 "Are you sure there'd be anything to divide?"
 
 PLUNDER 95 
 
 "Masterman offered me a million for it," he 
 snapped. 
 
 Her eyes flashed at this further proof of the 
 paper's value, though none was needed. He 
 saw the gleam and mistook it for greed. 
 
 "You want to be fair," he said. "If it wasn't 
 for me Grant and you wouldn't have had a 
 chance at it. You don't want to make an enemy 
 of me. Besides, I'm not a new hand at this 
 game; you might get rattled and caught. I can 
 handle it like an ordinary business deal. And 
 I'll be fair. Suppose you get hold of Grant 
 now and we all have a little dinner together? 
 We'll talk it over and " 
 
 "I don't know where Grant is," she inter- 
 rupted. "And if I did, I would not tell you." 
 
 "You mean you're not going to let me in on 
 it?" 
 
 "Exactly," she smiled. 
 
 He stared at her. 
 
 "My life, Miss Rowland, is worth a mil- 
 lion dollars to me or it isn't worth a cent. No, 
 I'll correct that half a million dollars. For 
 half a million dollars I'll do anything. I'll risk
 
 96 PLUNDER 
 
 my life; for that money I'll go to the chair. 
 Understand what I mean?" 
 
 "You'd commit murder for that paper?" 
 
 "For half its value," he replied. "Get Grant 
 to take me in, and everything will be fine. Leave 
 me out, and I tell you, Miss Rowland, I'll go to 
 the chair for one or both of you. I mean it." 
 
 "But supposing that we plan to make no profit ? 
 Supposing that we plan to use the paper for the 
 benefit of the people? Doesn't that appeal to 
 you? Wouldn't you care to come in with us?" 
 
 "Suppose Mars is inhabited; what of it? 
 Let's not talk moonshine. Do you or don't you 
 intend to tell me where Grant is, or have him 
 meet me and declare me in?" 
 
 "I do not," she answered. 
 
 For a moment it looked as though he would 
 spring. 
 
 "I could scream once anyway before you 
 stopped me," she answered. 
 
 He relaxed. "There are more ways than one 
 of killing, Miss Rowland," he said grimly. "Put 
 up the paper-knife; you don't need it. I'm going 
 to tell you something. I'm known as Harry
 
 PLUNDER 97 
 
 Mack to the police. I've never killed any one 
 yet, because it's not been worth my while. It 
 is worth my while now. You probably think I 
 can't find Grant, but I will. And there'll be 
 no further chance to dicker. I'll have that paper 
 from him, and grab it all. Or if he's sold the 
 paper to Masterman, I'll do no bargaining. As 
 surely as I am sitting here with you I'll kill 
 him, if I wait ten years. It won't be a case of 
 give me my share and we'll call it square. I'll 
 kill him. Now am I in with you or not?" 
 
 He had not raised his voice; he was calm as 
 though he were indeed Sir Fitz-Roy, discussing 
 some ordinary topic with a lady. His very 
 repression lent earnestness to his words. He 
 meant what he said, there was not the slightest 
 doubt of that. Furthermore, he would do as he 
 said, if possible. Another risk must be borne by 
 the man that Kirby loved; a greater risk than 
 those already invited, because the man who 
 threatened knew Grant's identity which, as yet, 
 the millionaires did not know. Yet the girl ac- 
 cepted it. 
 
 "You are not," she said.
 
 98 PLUNDER 
 
 Mack rose, and with a return of his borrowed 
 identity bowed to her. Then very quietly he 
 left the apartment. She rose and walked to the 
 window; she watched him cross the street and 
 turn a corner. She turned back to the center 
 of the room. Suddenly she felt herself shaking. 
 
 "Oh, God," she said softly; "it is for Your 
 people; give me strength."
 
 VII 
 
 BLAISDELL bit his nails; Cardigan tore 
 viciously at scraps of paper, littering the 
 floor; only Masterman preserved the appearance 
 of calm. But even his voice shook. 
 
 "Well, what have you done, Greenham?" 
 
 Terence Greenham, junior partner in the 
 detective agency, and the real brains of the firm, 
 shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 "Little as yet, Mr. Masterman. But our men 
 will soon pick up Mack again, and then " 
 
 "And he no longer has the paper I told you 
 to get," thundered Masterman. "I told you 
 that paper meant millions! And your men let 
 Mack slip away from them! And now some 
 one else has it. I'm ordered to " 
 
 He sat down and wiped his forehead. When 
 he spoke again he was a little calmer. 
 
 "I need not tell you the contents of that paper, 
 Greenham. If you or any of your men recover 
 
 99
 
 ioo PLUNDER 
 
 it you will know at once that it is the docu- 
 ment I want. Further, you will be paid well for 
 forgetting its contents. Sufficient now to tell 
 you that it is a document whose publication 
 would not only ruin us three in the room, but 
 cost us, possibly, our lives. It must be recov- 
 ered!" 
 
 "It will," began Greenham eagerly. "My 
 men can't be fooled long by any crook that - 
 
 Masterman's stony face frowned the detec- 
 tive into silence. 
 
 "I've told you that Mack hasn't it any longer. 
 Just now I was telephoned to by a woman. I 
 learned that she is young, pretty, wore a blue 
 tailored suit, hat with green feather, has brown 
 hair and gray eyes. The telephone operator at 
 the Disnore gave me that information. The 
 Disnore house detective failed to capture her. 
 She informed me that she had possession of that 
 paper." 
 
 "A pal of Mack's," said Greenham. 
 
 "Let me finish," roared Masterman. The 
 detective flushed. The master of transportation 
 swallowed a little water from a glass on his desk.
 
 PLUNDER 101 
 
 "This woman is not a pal of Mack's. This is 
 proved by the fact that I had offered Mack a 
 million dollars for the return of that paper. I 
 wish now I'd kept my faith with him and not 
 let those fools in your employ follow him! This 
 woman is not after money for herself. She 
 asks a price greater than a million. She asks 
 she orders that universal transfers be granted 
 in this city. Universal transfers ! Do you realize 
 what that means? It means the ruin of every 
 
 road in the city. It means And Greenham, 
 
 I can't refuse her !" 
 
 Terence Greenham was absolutely trust- 
 worthy. But even if he hadn't been it would 
 have been necessary for Masterman to tell him 
 of Kirby's demands, for in no other way could 
 the gravity of the situation be impressed upon 
 the detective. For Greenham, thanks to Master- 
 man, was by way of being a rich man himself; 
 his sympathies lay with the rich. He could under- 
 stand the dire consequences of permitting to 
 remain free a force that could dictate the policy 
 of the transportation lines of New York. The 
 detective asked one question:
 
 102 PLUNDER 
 
 "And the orders of this woman, will they be 
 confined to transportation in this city?" 
 
 "They will be confined," said Masterman 
 slowly, "to what organizations are controlled, 
 directly or indirectly, by myself and my associ- 
 ates." 
 
 "And that means " Greenham was aghast. 
 
 "That until that paper is recovered that 
 woman is absolute master of this country. And 
 a master for evil! A woman anarchist! One 
 who will destroy, wipe out! Greenham, she 
 must be found! That she is no friend to this 
 Mack is shown by her demands. He wanted 
 wealth for himself; she there's no knowing 
 what she wants! But whatever it is, she must 
 have it! Greenham, what are you going to do? 
 She must be found before midnight!" 
 
 Terence Greenham had executed many orders 
 for Masterman; orders that involved millions. 
 But the present situation, as he readily saw, in- 
 volved still more. It staggered him. 
 
 "Before midnight? But, Mr. Masterman, I 
 don't even know her name. You don't. A gen- 
 eral description that might fit a thousand worn-
 
 PLUNDER 103 
 
 en and you know nothing? You have no clue 
 as to how she got the paper?" 
 
 There was a silence. Masterman looked at 
 Cardigan, at Blaisdell, but they were helpless, 
 bereft of ideas, able to think only of the peril 
 that confronted them : Blaisdell thinking of his 
 life, Cardigan of his wealth. Masterman 
 shrugged his shoulders; he lifted a face deeply 
 lined. 
 
 "I know nothing about her," he said. "That 
 she is the friend to whom Mack referred I can 
 not believe, for her demands are so different. 
 That she is the person whom he tried to reach 
 
 by telephone " He stopped. More than a 
 
 great executive was Martin Masterman. He had 
 that insight into the brains of men that made 
 him able to anticipate and forestall their best- 
 laid plans. A greater detective than a dozen 
 Greenhams rolled into one he might have been. 
 His eyes lighted. 
 
 "Your men called up the numbers Mack asked 
 for, didn't they? And learned nothing. Yet he 
 wasn't telephoning for mere pleasure. He had a 
 reason! And after one of those calls he evaded
 
 104 PLUNDER 
 
 your men. Why? Because he had learned what 
 he wished, Greenham!" In his excitement he 
 rose now and paced the office floor. "Don't you 
 see? Because he had learned what he wished! 
 Because he called two numbers, and the fools 
 who work for you asked but for one! It's what 
 I would have done, and this Mack, he's as clever 
 as I!" A great admission for the mighty Mar- 
 tin Masterman to make. "Am I right?" 
 
 The reports of his detectives were fresh in 
 Greenham's mind. He saw how simple a trick, 
 yet so clever, might have deceived his men. He 
 picked up the telephone, and was immediately 
 connected with the superintendent of the tele- 
 phone company. 
 
 "Terence Greenham talking, from Martin 
 Masterman's office, on the latter's business. I 
 
 want " He spoke for two minutes; then 
 
 he was silent, holding the receiver to his ear. A 
 moment later his rigidity told that he was listen- 
 ing. 
 
 "Yes, any one of the calls. Broad 69,000? 
 And that is? Bryant, Manners & Company. 
 Much obliged."
 
 PLUNDER 105 
 
 He hung 1 up and sat still a moment. Shamed 
 that the master of transportation had seen 
 through Mack's trick, Greenham worked his own 
 brain to its utmost. Like nearly every other de- 
 tective, fiction to the contrary, Greenham lacked 
 imagination to any remarkable degree. He dis- 
 covered the perpetrators of crime by questioning 
 stool-pigeons in the majority of cases. He fol- 
 lowed old and routine paths. But it was his 
 painstaking covering of every lead that brought 
 him results. His mind responded to the pres- 
 sure of the moment and he thought of a lead 
 as yet unfollowed. He leaned toward the trans- 
 mitter again. He asked for a number. 
 
 "Police Headquarters. Give me the commis- 
 sioner. Terence Greenham talking. . . . Com- 
 missioner Murray? Terence Greenham. I want 
 to speak with Detective Connors. Important. 
 . . . Connors? This is Terence Greenham. You 
 pulled a man to-day. The Masterman man. . . , 
 Where? Bryant, Manners & Company? All 
 right. And see that your lips are sewed. 
 Thanks." 
 
 He rang off and turned to Masterman.
 
 io6 PLUNDER 
 
 "Mack was out of sight of all three of you for 
 a minute to-day," he said. "Connors told me 
 what you didn't ask him that he pulled Mack in 
 Bryant-Manners' office. Yet he couldn't have 
 been in there more than a minute. You had him 
 under your eyes for all but a minute or so." 
 
 A gleam of hope shone in Masterman's eyes. 
 "You think then ?" 
 
 Greenham pulled his watch from his pocket. 
 
 "It's five now. I don't know when I'll have 
 anything to report. Mr. Masterman, you'll be 
 at home all this evening?" 
 
 "I'll be waiting up to hear from you," replied 
 Masterman grimly. "And Blaisdell and Cardi- 
 gan will be with me." 
 
 The others kept silence; the hours of strain 
 had been too much for them. They could only 
 sit dully by, not fully comprehending, while the 
 'detective and Masterman talked. 
 
 Greenham reached the door. 
 
 "If it was any one in the Bryant-Manners' 
 office I'll get him." 
 
 "Her," corrected Masterman. "And this is 
 something extra, Greenham. The usual retainer
 
 PLUNDER 107 
 
 doesn't apply. If you land that woman by mid- 
 night, ask for what you want; I'll give you a 
 blank check I'll give you " 
 
 "And you'll stand behind any measures I take 
 to get the paper?" 
 
 For a minute the master of transportation 
 looked into the detective's eyes. 
 
 "You get that paper," he said. And Green- 
 ham thought he understood. 
 
 He left the office. Two minutes later, accom- 
 panied by his brother Robert, and trailed by half 
 a dozen operatives, he entered the bucket-shop. 
 The junior member of the detective agency knew 
 what he wanted ; a lead like this was simple. To 
 Mr. James Manners he gave a description of 
 Handsome Harry Mack, which Masterman had 
 given him, 
 
 "Sir Fitz-Roy Bray, of England," said Man- 
 ners nervously. "Surely, Mr. Greenham, you 
 have nothing derogatory to tell me of Sir Fitz- 
 Roy?" 
 
 "Nothing except to tell you that he's Harry 
 Mack, classiest gun in the con game, Manners," 
 responded Greenham. "Better look up your
 
 log PLUNDER 
 
 dealings with him. But never mind that now. 
 Has he any particular friend here? Did he tele- 
 phone any one here to-day?" 
 
 Manners, unnerved by the information that 
 his most exalted client was a swindler of parts, 
 and feverish with anxiety to examine his books 
 to learn whether or not anything had been put 
 over on him already, yet not daring to offend 
 the brothers Greenham, who might, if they so 
 chose, investigate his business with disastrous 
 results for the owners, summoned the telephone 
 clerk. 
 
 "Sir Fitz-Roy? Sure, he asked for Dixon 
 Grant, and when Grant wasn't in he asked for 
 his address. I gave it to him, and " 
 
 "What is the address?" interrupted Terence 
 Greenham. 
 
 The clerk supplied it. 
 
 "That's all, Manners," said the detective, "ex- 
 cept to keep quiet about our little call. And if 
 this man Grant shows up in the morning and 
 you haven't heard from us, let my office know. 
 You say he never took an afternoon off before 
 without permission?"
 
 PLUNDER 109 
 
 "And never will again," said Manners. "Chums 
 of crooks " 
 
 "Couldn't be very chummy if Mack didn't 
 even know his home address," said Greenham 
 the younger. Then, fearful that he had said too 
 much, or at least violated the proverbial resem- 
 blance to a clam of the species detective, he left 
 the office with his brother. Outside he gave that 
 less brilliant worthy his ideas. 
 
 "Mack saw Connors after picking up that 
 paper. ' He ducked in here and gave it to Grant. 
 Grant double-crossed him and Mack went after 
 him ; that's why he asked for the address. Mean- 
 while, Grant has either slipped the paper to some 
 girl or told her all about it. That's plain as Bill 
 Taft's smile. I'll get up to Twenty-third Street 
 and find out what girls young Grant knows. 
 Cinch that he isn't there; if he's clever enough 
 to double-cross Mack, he's clever enough to have 
 lighted out. But the girl is the trail he leaves. 
 Robert, you take a few men and go up to Mack's 
 hotel on the off chance he'll turn up there. He's 
 valuable to us yet, never mind what Masterman 
 says."
 
 no PLUNDER 
 
 He turned and signaled one of the operatives, 
 who discreetly followed them. 
 
 "Schmidt, you come with me.'* He spoke 
 again to his brother. "Forgot something. Find 
 out where Mack or Sir Fitz-Roy banks. De- 
 tail a man to be there in the morning. I'll phone 
 you at Mack's hotel the Blare, Manners said? 
 All right? So long." 
 
 Followed by Schmidt, he dashed down a street 
 that led to the elevated, while his slower-witted 
 brother assumed command of the five men left 
 behind and started up-town, for Mack's hotel, in 
 the subway. 
 
 Handsome Harry had paved the way for Ter- 
 ence Greenham. The flash of a bill and the 
 mention of his errand, and the slavey who opened 
 the door gave them the information, upon which 
 Mack had so quickly acted. And the highly ex- 
 cited landlady corroborated it eagerly. The two 
 women had more to gossip about and were at it 
 joyously before Greenham reached the side- 
 walk. 
 
 "I'll bet there is a murder somewhere in it. 
 If these men are detectives, who was the gent
 
 PLUNDER in 
 
 with the fifty-dollar bills?" demanded the land- 
 lady. 
 
 "It's a girl ! Mr. Grant he's eloped with some 
 millionaire's daughter, and " 
 
 And so they had it, and were still having it 
 when Greenham and Schmidt reached the street 
 on which stood the Greenwich Studios. 
 
 "Wait at this corner," ordered Greenham. "If 
 I'm not back in twenty minutes come after me 
 with your gun out. Mack might be there 
 Grant Lord knows who. Twenty minutes." 
 
 He started for the studios. 
 
 Kirby Rowland was not an extraordinary girl 
 physically. She played a little tennis, golfed oc- 
 casionally, canoed, and was an average sort of 
 outdoor girl, but her strength was not tremen- 
 dous. Far removed from the girl of the early 
 Victorian era, she was not the fainting sort, the 
 kind to grow white at sight of blood; neither was 
 she the woman, devoid of nerves, that modern 
 conditions are bringing forth. She was a whole- 
 some girl, but not at all suited to undergo great 
 strain without reaction. She was suffering re- 
 action now.
 
 j 12 PLUNDER 
 
 She had been endowed with more than good 
 looks, more than brain with insight, with vis- 
 ion. To some, of little faith in man, vision is a 
 curse. But to those of faith, vision is a bless- 
 ing. It causes them to disregard the present, to 
 realize that all is part of the Great Plan, which 
 has not yet reached fulfillment, but that ever 
 progresses, in accordance with His wish. 
 
 To her, of insight and vision, had come the 
 means, she believed, could she but handle them, 
 to advance Time a century, to force the preda- 
 tory powers to give now what another century 
 Would see taken from them. And when she 
 prayed for strength, she prayed, not as a weak- 
 ling, but as one who realized her own physical 
 limitations and wished she had none. For her 
 nerves were shaken, not merely by her scene 
 with Handsome Harry, but by what that scene 
 meant in added dangers and difficulties. It was 
 hard enough to work in the dark, to pit her 
 youthful brain and heart against the craft and 
 animosity of Masterman and his associates. But 
 now that one of the underworld, keen, cunning 
 and unscrupulous, was her avowed enemy and
 
 PLUNDER 113 
 
 knew of her identity, her course was trebly per- 
 ilous. Moreover, at any moment Handsome 
 Harry Mack might destroy her effectiveness in 
 any one of a score of ways. 
 
 Strength came back to her after a while. Her 
 brain began to itemize the things she might do, 
 the difficulties that would inevitably arise. More 
 clearly than anything else she realized that she 
 must hide! Even as Grant had been forced to 
 hide, so must she. 
 
 Action followed swiftly upon reaction now. 
 If the man who called himself Sir Fitz-Roy Bray 
 one moment and Harry Mack the next had been 
 able to trace her relationship to Grant and her 
 address, so might the emissaries and agents of 
 Masterman. Further, Mack might come back! 
 True, Grant was to telephone her at her studio; 
 and Grant would worry if she were not there; 
 but what were the worries of one person, how- 
 ever dear, compared to the consummation of her 
 scheme ? 
 
 She snatched up a suit-case, and then dropped 
 it. If Martin Masterman had been willing to 
 pay Harry Mack a million for the return of the
 
 ii 4 PLUNDER 
 
 paper, he would be willing to spend great sums 
 in tracing her, if he learned her name. And a 
 woman who carries a suit-case is more conspicu- 
 ous than one who does not. She would leave 
 without baggage, and at once! Exactly where 
 she would go she did not know. That was a 
 question better decided after she was away from 
 her studio. She opened the door and stepped 
 into the hall. A man alighted from the elevator 
 as she closed the door, and approached her. He 
 lifted his hat. 
 
 "Miss Rowland? My name is Greenham 
 Terence Greenham, Mr. Martin Masterman has 
 retained me to look you up in regard to a certain 
 paper." 
 
 Even in the dim light of the hall the detective 
 could see that her face grew white, and that her 
 bosom heaved. It was going to be very easy. 
 He had the right person, too. She gave herself 
 away when he mentioned the paper. Yet the 
 elevator boy, in answer to a bill, had informed 
 him that Miss Rowland Greenham had worked 
 the same scheme of looking at the letter boxes 
 to learn Kirby's last name had received a caller
 
 PLUNDER 115 
 
 not long ago, and the caller's description accord- 
 ed with that of Handsome Harry Mack. Had 
 Mack come away empty-handed? Or were he 
 and the girl accomplices? Another moment 
 would answer these questions. 
 
 The frightened girl turned back to her apart- 
 ment. 
 
 "If you'll come inside " Her voice quav- 
 ered. Greenham smiled. Martin Masterman 
 had spoken of blank checks! 
 
 She was opening the door now, and the key 
 rattled as her fingers shook. She drew back and 
 motioned Greenham to precede her. Courtesy 
 and caution both demanded that he should not 
 do so, but Greenham was human, and elated at 
 what promised to be an easy victory. He stepped 
 into the apartment. The door closed upon him 
 with a clash, and, in the hall, Kirby hurled her- 
 self upon it while fingers that trembled no longer 
 turned the key. She turned and raced down the 
 hall. The descending elevator stopped for her, 
 then bore her swiftly to the ground floor. 
 
 Up-stairs in her apartment Greenham had 
 thrown himself against the door, but it was too
 
 ii6 PLUNDER 
 
 strong. He cursed once, then laughed. He 
 rushed to the window, threw it open and leaned 
 out. Schmidt, at the corner, caught his signal. 
 He came swiftly down the street, on the oppo- 
 site side. 'As Kirby emerged from the building 
 Greenham signaled once more. Schmidt crossed 
 the street. Kirby had gone but a dozen yards 
 when the Greenham operative touched her arm. 
 She wheeled. 
 
 "Don't be in such a hurry, ma'am," said 
 Schmidt. "There's a gentleman back in your 
 apartment that ain't finished talkin' to you, 
 ma'am." 
 
 His fingers tightened on her arms. She jerked 
 her arm suddenly, and the fingers bit into her 
 flesh. 
 
 "Come quiet, ma'am," counseled Schmidt, "or 
 I'll put somethin' on your wrists that " 
 
 "By what right?" she gasped. "By what right 
 do you stop me? I'll call for help ! I'll - 
 
 Many of the tradespeople in the vicinity knew 
 her well. Many of the tenants of the shabbier 
 apartments near the studios had reason to love 
 Kirby Rowland, the lady who took their children
 
 PLUNDER 117 
 
 on summer excursions, who hunted up jobs for 
 workless husbands, who sent coal and groceries 
 to the poor. Without a warrant these men had 
 no right to detain her. Her friends among these 
 tenements would come to her aid. Yet a rescue 
 would entail questions that must be answered. 
 Her quick wit did not desert her. Also, like every 
 other modest woman, she hated a scene. Already 
 people were staring at her and the man who held 
 her arm. 
 
 "Let go of my arm," she said. "And I'll " 
 
 She did not finish the sentence, for in the midst 
 of it something hard and bony hit Schmidt be- 
 hind the ear. He dropped Kirby's arm and turned 
 to defend himself from a pair of fists that were 
 like sledge hammers, and that would have dropped 
 at the first punch any one less hardened to blows 
 than Julius Schmidt, late heavyweight champion 
 of the police department. As it was, the blows 
 staggered the detective ; he fell into a clinch ; there 
 came the crash of heavy blows against ribs. The 
 two men went down together, the detective on 
 top. The man underneath writhed and hurled 
 Schmidt over; Kirby saw his face it was Mack!
 
 n8 PLUNDER 
 
 "Beat it, Miss Rowland, beat it! I'll hold the 
 dog till you're gone ! Beat it !" 
 
 It was no time to ask questions or to offer 
 thanks. She merely obeyed instructions. Through 
 the front door of a tenement, along a hall, out 
 upon a fire escape, through a back yard, upon 
 another fire escape, through another building, and 
 out upon a street! Not for nothing, it now 
 seemed, had she learned the habitations of the 
 poor when on missions of charity. The knowl- 
 edge served her well now. 
 
 Back on the street Mack drove his fists into 
 the face of Schmidt, striving to break the detec- 
 tive's bulldog hold, for now that the girl had es- 
 caped, Mack clamored and fought to be free. 
 Chivalry had not been behind his assault upon 
 Schmidt. Hard common sense had been the in- 
 centive, for he realized that if Kirby Rowland 
 were captured she might surrender the paper, and 
 gone would be the dreams of wealth for Hand- 
 some Harry Mack. This was his reason for leap- 
 ing from the saloon whither he had been waiting 
 and watching save for two minutes when he 
 used the telephone for Kirby Rowland since his
 
 PLUNDER 119 
 
 quiet departure from the studios. Better that he 
 himself, Harry Mack, be captured, than that the 
 possessor of the document signed by the million- 
 aires pass back into its signers' possession. But 
 better still if both girl and he went free ! Schmidt 
 was on top now. Handsome Harry lifted his 
 knee suddenly. The detective sprawled limp upon 
 the body of the crook! Mack gained his knees, 
 his teeth showing in a snarl. Then suddenly the 
 lips covered the gums and he smiled, for he 
 found himself looking into a gun held by Terence 
 Greenham. The door of Kirby's apartment had 
 given way before a chair wielded by the detective. 
 Still smiling, for it was part of his code to smile 
 at defeat, Handsome Harry arose to his feet, 
 brushing the knees of his trousers sedulously. 
 
 "Well, now you've got me, what you going to 
 do?" he asked coolly.
 
 VIII 
 
 TRAIN after train left the terminal, but Dixon 
 Grant boarded none of them. He had told 
 Kirby that he would leave the city, and had agreed 
 with her that it was dangerous for him to remain ; 
 but he was a red-blooded youth, and the more he 
 considered leaving Kirby in the city while he be- 
 took himself elsewhere, the more his courage re- 
 belled at the plan. If he were traced by the Mas- 
 terman agents it was possible that his relation to 
 Kirby might be discovered. He had never told 
 any of his associates in the bucket-shop of Kirby ; 
 he had never told any of his fellow lodgers; but 
 detectives might learn of her existence. They 
 might look up all his acquaintances in that artistic 
 colony to which Kirby belonged and where he had 
 first met her at a studio supper. He had always 
 held aloof from his business associates, despising, 
 as he did, the business in which he was engaged, 
 and having a mild contempt for those similarly 
 1 20
 
 PLUNDER x*i 
 
 employed and without desire for a change of vo- 
 cation. But the set to which Kirby belonged, and 
 into which by virtue of an old school friend be- 
 come author he had entered, knew that he and 
 Kirby were close friends. If one of this set were 
 approached, and should happen to talk, in some 
 way or other Kirby might be subjected to annoy- 
 ance, if nothing worse, and it ill became him to 
 leave her to face it alone. 
 
 At any rate, not until he had communicated 
 with Kirby and learned that she had accomplished 
 her mission of storing the paper in a Masterman 
 vault would he think of leaving the city. Brave 
 and capable as he knew her to be, there might be 
 a moment when two husky fists would be of in- 
 finitely more value than her ready woman's wit. 
 Until she had arranged to hide herself, a move 
 that, in his rising alarm for her, appeared to him 
 as advisable as his own flight, he would be near 
 at hand. So he stayed in the terminal, while 
 trains by the score pulled out for Jersey and be- 
 yond, standing near a row of telephone booths. 
 
 Once, twice, and again, he entered the telephone 
 booth, each time certain that she jcould not have
 
 122 PLUNDER 
 
 
 
 returned from down-town so soon, yet unable, in 
 his impatience that magnified danger, to let a rea- 
 sonable time elapse. After the third unsuccessful 
 attempt to reach her at the Greenwich Studios, he 
 walked over to the cigar stand and purchased a 
 smoke. He was lighting the cigar at the little gas 
 flame when he was touched on the arm. 
 
 "Well, what have you been doing tapping the 
 firm's till?" 
 
 He turned to face Gene Carnahan, a fellow 
 clerk in the office of Bryant, Manners & Com- 
 pany. It took an effort for him to return Carna- 
 han's smile. 
 
 "If I had I'd not be standing quietly here, 
 Gene," he laughed 
 
 Carnahan was the only one of his fellow clerks 
 with whom he had much to do. They occasional- 
 ly lunched together, and Grant rather liked the 
 jolly little fat man, although they were not at all 
 intimate. But Grant felt that Carnahan, like him- 
 self, worked for the bucket-shop only because of 
 dire need, and that Carnahan was as anxious as 
 himself to get into something else. So a subtle
 
 PLUNDER 113 
 
 bond of sympathy had thus been created between 
 them. 
 
 Grant offered Carnahan a cigar. 
 
 "What's the point of the merry wheeze, Gene?" 
 
 Carnahan looked quickly at Grant. He got his 
 cigar going before he replied. 
 
 "Personally, Dick," he said, "about the only 
 thing that restrains me from grabbing off a bank 
 roll from our esteemed bosses is the fact that I 
 have a wife and two kids. The way Bryant and 
 Manners get their coin doesn't establish for them 
 any valid title to it, so far as I can see. It could 
 hardly be termed stealing to take anything from 
 them at least, so broad-minded a man as myself 
 wouldn't consider it such. So I'm not shocked. 
 Dick, have you been nicking the office funds? If 
 so, let me assure you that while you're a con- 
 founded rascal, you have my deepest sympathy, 
 my undying envy at your nerve, and my blessing 
 and best wishes for a speedy voyage to a port 
 where extradition doesn't reign. If you haven't, 
 and of course you haven't, why does the Green- 
 ham Detective Agency take such an interest iri
 
 124 PLUNDER 
 
 your whereabouts? And since when have you 
 become so pally with his lordship, Sir Fitz-Roy 
 Bray?" 
 
 "Chop the chatter, Gene," said Grant. "Get 
 down to cases. What are you driving at?" 
 
 "I just phoned the office. I've had the after- 
 noon off to attend to some private business. I 
 phoned to inquire about some work I'd left un- 
 finished. Young Clarkin, the phone clerk, he of 
 the cavernous ear and clacking tongue, slipped me 
 some information which, in view of your re- 
 pressed excitement, I will now pass swiftly on to 
 you." He dropped the grandiloquent manner. 
 "Clarkin, anxious as ever to disseminate informa- 
 tion, told me that the Greenhams had just been in 
 the office inquiring about Sir Fitz-Roy. Seems 
 that he's a well-known crook named Harry Mack. 
 The Greenhams wanted to know if Mack had 
 phoned the office this afternoon and whom he had 
 asked for. Clarkin said that you were the baby, 
 and that he had given Sir Fitz-Roy, or Mack, 
 your address. Said that the firm was quite het 
 up about your not showing up this P. M. What's 
 the answer, old top?"
 
 PLUNDER 1 35 
 
 Grant stared at Carnahan. 
 
 "When I know the answer fully, some day, I'll 
 let you know, Gene. In the meantime, do you 
 suppose you can forget having seen me to-day? 
 I haven't robbed anybody. You're not making 
 yourself accessory after the fact." 
 
 "As if I couldn't be a little thing like that for a 
 man I like!" said Carnahan. "I've forgotten I 
 ever knew you, Dick. Is that enough?" 
 
 Grant pressed his hand. 
 
 "It's enough, Gene. Thanks." 
 
 "Forget it! And if you want There's 
 
 my train. S'long, Dick." And the little fat man 
 dashed off. 
 
 Grant looked after him. He had learned some- 
 thing in the last few minutes that he had a 
 friend on whom he could count. It was knowl- 
 edge that cheered for a moment. But only for 
 that long, for then it was shoved aside by a 
 sterner knowledge, the knowledge that the Green- 
 hams were upon his trail. His reasoning had been 
 correct; he had been traced by the Masterman 
 agents. How long before Kirby would be traced ? 
 .He leaped again into the telephone booth.
 
 126 PLUNDER 
 
 He got the Greenwich Studios and asked for 
 Miss Rowland's apartment. A voice undisguis- 
 ably masculine answered. Grant's heart thumped. 
 
 "Is Miss Rowland there?" 
 
 "Who is this?" 
 
 "I wish to speak to Miss Rowland." 
 
 "Who is this?" 
 
 "The King of Spain," snapped Grant "Is 
 Miss Rowland there?" 
 
 He seemed to detect caution in the voice that 
 replied : 
 
 "She's just stepped out. Any message. It is 
 her brother talking. Who is this ?" 
 
 It was clumsy work ; it would have been better 
 for the man not to have answered the telephone. 
 For Grant stepped quietly out of the booth, paid 
 for the call and walked swiftly out into the street 
 There he stood a moment in indecision. 
 
 Kirby Rowland had no brother! Who, then, 
 could be posing as that non-existing brother ex- 
 cept some one vitally interested in the paper signed 
 by the millionaires? Of course it might have 
 been a burglar, it might have been the janitor, it 
 might have been any one at all playing an asinine
 
 PLUNDER 127 
 
 joke. But the probabilities were strongly against 
 any such coincidence. It was an agent of Mas- 
 terman or else Sir Fitz-Roy Bray, otherwise 
 Harry Mack. 
 
 He walked slowly down the street Sir Fitz- 
 Roy Harry Mack. He knew that Mack was a 
 client of the firm, and that was all. He had nod- 
 ded to the man occasionally, but no more. Why, 
 then, should Mack have telephoned for him and 
 inquired his address? Why should the Green- 
 hams, commonly known to be retained by the 
 Masterman interests, inquire for Sir Fitz-Roy? 
 Because Sir Fitz-Roy, otherwise Harry Mack, 
 had gained, and was known to have gained, pos- 
 session of the paper now in the Masterman vaults 
 probably. 
 
 And Mack had telephoned him, Dixon Grant, 
 because it was Mack who had placed in Grant's 
 pocket the paper. But why had he parted with 
 possession of the paper? Grant shook his head. 
 Why had Mack chosen such a repository as 
 Grant's pocket? Again he shook his head. The 
 answers to those questions were not clear. Suffi- 
 cient that the thing had been done, that Mack had
 
 128 PLUNDER 
 
 learned Grant's address, that the Greenhams had 
 
 learned as much as he, Mack, knew, and that 
 
 The telephone conversation was no impertinent 
 joke perpetrated by some one who had gained 
 access to Kirby's room ; it was no burglar. Bur- 
 glars do not answer the telephone in apartments 
 they are robbing. It was Mack or a Masterman 
 agent. And this being so, where was Kirby? 
 She was due home now, some little time ago. His 
 next to the last telephone call had been a bit too 
 early for her return, but she should have been 
 home a few moments after that. And that was 
 almost three-quarters of an hour ago. What had 
 happened in those forty-five minutes between her 
 coming home and the answering of the last phone 
 call by her pseudo brother? 
 
 It was that question that made him leap aboard 
 a south-bound car and that made him fret at its 
 slowness. It was a question that no fear for 
 self, no fear for the wrecking of their great plan, 
 nothing could prevent him seeking answer to. 
 For he loved Kirby Rowland, and if anything 
 had happened to her, he was to blame, because
 
 PLUNDER 129 
 
 he had left her alone to face issues that would 
 have appalled strong men even. 
 
 But discretion is ever the better part of valor. 
 His blood cooled on the all too slow journey 
 down-town. If Kirby were, say, imprisoned in 
 her own apartment, he alone would be unable to 
 rescue her by violent assault. Cunning would be 
 needed, unless, indeed, he chose to give up their 
 great plan. And that, imbued as he now was with 
 her altruism, he hoped not to do. But cunning 
 needs thought and wariness. So he 'Swung off the 
 car at the next stop, pulled his hat down over his 
 eyes, and, thinking hard, approached the Green- 
 wich Studios at a gait that, being slower, was 
 less an invitation to curiosity than the breakneck 
 pace at which he had first started out. 
 
 He turned the corner of the street on which 
 stood the Greenwich Studios. He sauntered down 
 it. From the Greenwich Studios came two men ; 
 they turned toward Grant. His mouth grew hard 
 as he recognized, too late to turn back, he thought, 
 without being recognized himself, the handsome 
 countenance of Harry Mack. And with Mack
 
 130 
 
 PLUNDER 
 
 was a man who had been pointed out to him a$ 
 Terence Greenham ! 
 
 Their arms were linked ; to the casual observer 
 they would have seemed two middle-aged chums. 
 To Grant's understanding eye that linking of 
 arms was seizure ; the twain were captor and cap- 
 tured. And they had come from the Greenwich 
 Studios, which housed Kirby Rowland! 
 
 His slow pace slackened for a few strides into 
 a dawdle. Mack was Greenham's prisoner. That 
 meant, since they came from Kirby's house, that 
 Greenham had caught Mack there, most likely, 
 for it was hardly probable that Mack had led the 
 detective there. If so he would not be held by 
 the arm by the detective. They would have 
 reached a compromise which would have assured 
 Mack his freedom. The man capable of posing 
 as an English nobleman, and of stealing the 
 precious paper, would hardly be driven by threats. 
 Grant knew character a little, and he had seen 
 the handsome but hard face of Harry Mack too 
 often to deem the man weak. They had met at 
 Kirby's house; that was the answer. But where 
 Was Kirby?
 
 PLUNDER 131 
 
 This question, important though it was, he put 
 aside for the moment. If necessary, he would 
 divulge the hiding-place of the document and so 
 save Kirby from harm. But until he knew what 
 danger, if any, menaced her now, he would do 
 well to keep his face from the eyes of Harry 
 Mack. He turned abruptly into a tobacconist's 
 and asked for cigarettes, while he kept one eye 
 upon the door. The two men with the linked 
 arms stopped outside the shop. 
 
 "Really, old fellow, you can't put a bullet 
 through me because I want a smoke, and insist 
 on buying my own cigars, you know," said the 
 voice of Handsome Harry, in the assumed drawl 
 that fitted the identity of Sir Fitz-Roy. 
 
 "Very well," Grant heard Greenham reply. 
 "But no tricks!" 
 
 It was evident that although Greenham had 
 Mack under arrest, he did not care to advertise 
 the fact by a brawl. Still with linked arms the 
 two men entered the tobacconist's. Inwardly 
 cursing the luck that had driven them to enter his 
 place of refuge, Grant bent over the counter, as 
 though choosing from its contents.
 
 I 3 2 PLUNDER 
 
 "What have you, my man?" Mack asked the 
 shopkeeper. "All your deuced American cigars 
 burn my tongue. Have you anything mild?" 
 And then he touched Grant on the shoulder. "I 
 say, my friend, can you recommend anything de- 
 cent ? My cousin here doesn't smoke, so he can't 
 tell me. What would you recommend?" 
 
 And unless the sense of touch lied, Grant felt 
 the fingers of Harry Mack pinch his shoulder. 
 There was nothing to do but answer. Face avert- 
 ed, wondering, ready for a mad dash past both 
 men, Grant mumbled the name of the cigar he 
 had bought at the terminal a while ago. But 
 Mack was not satisfied. 
 
 "I say, you mention it as though you didn't 
 believe it's any good at all. Can't you look me 
 in the eye and give me your word of honor that 
 it is a good cigar?" 
 
 "Come on, Mack, quit annoying the man," said 
 Greenham testily. 
 
 But Grant lifted his eyes to Handsome Harry. 
 Certain that the crook had recognized him and 
 was making game of him, the young man doubled 
 his fists and lifted his shoulders, prepared to
 
 PLUNDER 133 
 
 swing at the nearest jaw, but the expression on 
 the face of Handsome Harry made his fingers 
 unfold. For the international crook, his back to 
 Greenham, shook his head the least trifle, while 
 his forehead wrinkled in a frown that could be 
 nothing other than a warning. It was a signal 
 .that lasted only a fraction of a second, but was 
 unmistakable. Then Mack laughed. 
 
 "Beg pardon for ragging you, sir. That cigar 
 is really good? Give me a half dozen," he said 
 to the tobacconist. 
 
 Mystified, inwardly trembling, wondering what 
 could have been Mack's reason for the warning 
 and what it meant and why the crook did not leap 
 upon him, despite Greenham's presence, and de- 
 mand the return of the paper, Grant lighted a 
 cigarette at the stand, still keeping his face from 
 Greenham. The detective did not know him, so 
 far as Grant was aware, but he might have ob- 
 tained a description of Grant, and the latter knew 
 not how effective, in a capable detective's brain, 
 such a description might be. 
 
 Mack took his cigars with his free hand and 
 paid for them with the same member. He put
 
 I 3 4 PLUNDER 
 
 one in his mouth and leaned toward the lighter. 
 He removed it; then turned toward his captor. 
 
 "I tell you flat, Greenham," and he enunciated 
 the detective's name clearly. "I won't go back to 
 those studios. I wouldn't for anything." 
 
 Greenham stared at his prisoner. 
 
 "Now what the devil do you mean by that ?" he 
 demanded, surprised into the question. 
 
 "Just what I say," said Mack. "There's noth- 
 ing there for me, and I tell you flat I'll go no- 
 where without a reason. I'll go to your bally 
 headquarters if you insist, but there's nothing at 
 the Greenwich Studios and I won't go back there." 
 
 Greenham's jaw dropped slightly. 
 
 "Well, who the dickens asked you to? Look 
 here, Mack, I'll have no more of your nonsense. 
 You come along with me or I'll ring for a wag- 
 on!" Despite the presence of tobacconist and 
 stranger, Greenham grew angry, and did not 
 lower his voice. "Why, you cheap con man, do 
 you think you can make a rag of me? You've 
 stalled long enough. Who' re you trying to kid, 
 anyway? I've had enough of this! I've stopped
 
 PLUNDER 135 
 
 to get a drink and now for a smoke, and I've had 
 enough. Come on !" 
 
 "Why, blast it all, if you haven't a temper, 
 Greenham, old cock! Deuced if I thought it of 
 you ! Lead on, my friend !" 
 
 And, smiling and chipper, Handsome Harry 
 allowed the frowning detective to lead him from 
 the shop. The tobacconist stared after them. He 
 turned to Grant, as mystified as himself: 
 
 "Well, I'll bet that's a fly cop making a pinch ! 
 'And I thought they were pals. Class to that 
 crook, eh?" 
 
 "There is," said Grant dully. A moment later 
 he, too, passed out into the street, and turned 
 again toward the Greenwich Studios. But he 
 took only a couple of steps before he paused. 
 
 Why hadn't Mack recognized him ? Or, rather, 
 not that, for Mack had recognized him; his frown 
 and nodded head were proof of that. But why 
 hadn't the crook denounced him to Greenham? 
 The chances were a million to one that Greenham 
 had taken Mack into custody because of the affair 
 of the paper, and million-to-one chances maj;
 
 136 PLUNDER 
 
 ordinarily be looked upon as facts. Then why 
 didn't Mack, under arrest, with his hold on for- 
 tune broken, denounce Grant ? There was no use 
 in trying to figure that out; let it suffice that Mack 
 had not denounced Grant. 
 
 Sir Fitz-Roy Bray had not impressed Grant as 
 being a fool; and Gene Carnahan had said that 
 Bray was a crook named Mack. A crook clever 
 enough to pass himself off as an English noble- 
 man was not a fool. Then why the queer talk 
 that had angered Greenham? Why should Mack 
 want to anger his captor? 
 
 "There's nothing at the Greenwich Studios. 
 I'll go nowhere without a reason." 
 
 These scraps from Mack's statements to the 
 detective came back to Grant. Only fools make 
 meaningless remarks. Mack was no fool ; there- 
 fore, his remarks held meaning. For whom? 
 For Grant! 
 
 It was clear enough. For reasons of his own 
 Mack would not denounce Grant. More, he was 
 shielding Grant, for he was warning the clerk 
 that Kirby Rowland was not at the studios, and 
 that there was danger there. There was no other
 
 PLUNDER 137 
 
 meaning save that. And there was no reason in 
 the world for Mack to attempt to deceive Grant. 
 Kirby was not in the studios. Nor could she be 
 under arrest. Mack had informed him of so much 
 that he would have informed him of this last had 
 it happened. He felt a sudden unaccountable 
 faith in the man whom he knew to be a crook, 
 and who, undoubtedly, if his hard face were any 
 indication of his character, would kill without 
 compunction any who stood in his path. 
 
 Mack's hints were truthful ones. Kirby was 
 not at home, and further, she could not be ex- 
 pected home. This last deduction was as plain 
 as the first. Otherwise Mack would not have 
 made the statement so emphatically that he would 
 not go back to the studios. But how could Mack 
 know she was not coming back? His heart 
 leaped as he answered that question because she 
 had come and gone ! 
 
 But where ? That was for Dixon Grant to find 
 out. He set out at once in search of Kirby.
 
 IX 
 
 THE dock on a near-by church tower struck 
 eleven, each note distinct, menacing. The 
 three men in the library seemed to brace them- 
 selves against the sounds, as slaves might before 
 the lash of the whip. Their attitudes beneath the 
 real whips could not more clearly have indicated 
 their character, for Blaisdell seemed to cringe as 
 each stroke of the bell floated through the open 
 window; Cardigan seemed to grit his teeth and 
 square his shoulders; while Masterman's face 
 grew more and more impassive as the strokes 
 continued. Only his eyes, gloomy, brooding, 
 showed the fire pent up within him. And thus, 
 in other and less happy incarnations, might all 
 three have stood physical torture. 
 
 A knock sounded gently on the door as the last 
 stroke died away. 
 
 "Come in," said Masterman harshly. 
 
 A liveried servant showed for a second on the 
 threshold. 
 
 138
 
 PLUNDER 139 
 
 "Mr. Greenham," he announced softly, then 
 closed the door, himself outside. 
 
 As a taptive at the stake might have looked at 
 a rescuer Blaisdell looked at the detective. 
 
 "Well, well, well, have you caught her, have 
 you caught her, have you caught her?" His teeth 
 chattered, though his forehead was moist and his 
 eyes feverish. 
 
 "Have you got the paper ?" rumbled Cardigan, 
 his head thrust forward. 
 
 Masterman merely looked at the detective, and 
 it was to him that Greenham directed his answer. 
 
 "Not yet. But I hope " 
 
 "Hope," said Masterman, "is the refuge of the 
 incompetent What have you done?" 
 
 Greenham flushed. 
 
 "I have operatives at the railroad station. I've 
 notified practically every hotel in the city to have 
 their house detective keep on the lookout for a 
 woman answering this Rowland girl's description. 
 As I phoned you earlier in the evening, she got 
 away by a trick, but it's only a matter of time 
 when " 
 
 "When seconds mean millions, Greenham,
 
 140 PLUNDER 
 
 kindly refrain from referring to time so careless- 
 ly," snapped Masterman. "She got away? A 
 young girl an artist, you said ? Away from you, 
 said to be one of the greatest detectives on earth ! 
 Greenham, at any other time I'd laugh. As it is 
 what else have you done?" 
 
 "I have operatives tracing her friends. I ex- 
 pect at any moment to hear from them that she 
 has been located." 
 
 "Hope again," said Masterman, "when I want 
 facts! And this Mack? Have you discovered 
 his reason for interfering?" 
 
 "He refuses to talk," replied Greenham, "ex- 
 cept to state that if he isn't released by midnight 
 he'll have something to say to the papers." 
 
 "To the papers!" Cardigan's bull-like roar 
 shook the chandelier. "Another bit of your 
 damned incompetency, Greenham. When you 
 had the man why didn't you hide him somewhere ? 
 Why take him to headquarters where he could 
 get lawyers, and Greenham, if I had an office 
 boy as big a fool as you I'd fire him!" 
 
 "Kidnaping isn't so feasible as it sounds," said 
 Greenham angrily. "I did the best I could. I've
 
 PLUNDER 141 
 
 had him locked up, and you 'talk about kidnap- 
 ing. What good would that have done? He's 
 in league with this Rowland woman, that's cer- 
 tain, else why did he rescue her from Schmidt? 
 And when he's turned loose he'll try to see her, 
 won't he? And won't my men be on his trail?" 
 
 "And weren't they this afternoon?" sneered 
 Cardigan. 
 
 "They'll not lose him again," promised Green- 
 ham. 
 
 "Perhaps," said Masterman. "In the mean- 
 time " He walked to the window and stared 
 
 out into the night. Somewhere in this city was 
 a chit of a girl, who was defying him, Martin 
 Masterman, whom no man had ever defied save 
 to his cost. She was defying Martin Masterman; 
 she would make her defiance good! 
 
 To-day she had asked the car lines of the city 
 to issue universal transfers; to-morrow but 
 there must be no to-morrow! He turned back 
 into the room and the light from the chandelier 
 struck full upon his face, showing things there 
 that up to that time had been hidden. 
 
 "Greenham," he said, "men may be made to
 
 143 PLUNDER 
 
 talk. This afternoon it did not seem possible 
 that Mack was in league with this woman. Their 
 demands are so different." 
 
 He was silent for a moment. Might it not be 
 possible that the woman's demands were made 
 merely to show that there must be no trifling 
 with the demands of Mack? To emphasize, as it 
 were, Mack's demands? He shook his head. 
 This did not seem probable, much as he wished 
 it were. Mack's actions during the afternoon 
 as learned by Greenham and reported to Master- 
 man, gave the lie to that conclusion. The crook 
 and the girl were independent factors. That 
 Mack had aided the girl clouded this reasoning, 
 but Mack was a blackmailer, pure and simple, 
 while the girl Masterman had never seen her, 
 but she had talked to him, and the voice indicates 
 as much, more sometimes, than features do. She 
 was no blackmailer. Yet Mack had rescued her. 
 He must have had a reason. He must know 
 where to find her. There was ruthless purpose 
 on the face of Masterman when he spoke again. 
 
 "You're right, Greenham, when you say that 
 Mack will try to find this Rowland person. But
 
 PLUNDER 143 
 
 you're probably wrong when you say that your 
 operatives will not lose him again. He's too 
 clever. If he knows where this Rowland woman 
 may be found he must be made to tell ! This is 
 no petty matter; this is a matter that affects the 
 business of the nation. And one man can not 
 stand in the way of business and progress. 
 Understand?" 
 
 "You mean ?" Greenham hesitated. 
 
 "Don't be an ass," snapped Masterman. 
 ''You're no child! I told you this afternoon 
 that I'd stand behind you. And you merely 
 placed him under arrest on some trumped-up 
 charge." 
 
 Greenham wet his suddenly dry lips. 
 
 "Mr. Masterman, I thought you meant that 
 any false-arrest stuff any suits for dam- 
 ages " 
 
 Masterman cut him short with a gesture. "I 
 said I'd stand behind you. I meant it. Find out 
 where this girl is !" 
 
 Greenham shook his head. "It's too late." 
 
 "Too late? Who says so? I tell you this 
 woman must be found. I tell you " For
 
 144 PLUNDER 
 
 the first and last time in his life Martin Master- 
 man lost control of himself. "Find her!" he 
 cried; "find her!" 
 
 The demon unleashed in the soul of the master 
 of transportation frightened Greenham. He an- 
 swered almost in a whisper. 
 
 "It's too late!" he repeated. 
 
 "That's twice you've said that," raged Master- 
 man. "Don't you understand that I control the 
 authorities ?" 
 
 "But not the judges," said Greenham. "And 
 Mack has seen a judge." 
 
 Masterman regained his self-control at once. 
 He sat down. 
 
 "Seen a judge? Who?" 
 
 This gave him something to plot against, a 
 chance for scheming. The world was a stage 
 his stage, and all men were actors his actors. 
 But just now it had seemed that the play was 
 ended, the plot run out, and so he had lost control 
 of himself. But there was to be an epilogue. 
 
 "How did Mack see a judge?" 
 
 "He didn't himself, but a lawyer did. He 
 went to Judge Marchand, and the judge granted
 
 PLUNDER 145 
 
 a writ of habeas, returnable to-morrow morning. 
 Mack must have planted the lawyer; had some 
 deal with him that if he didn't show up at a cer- 
 tain time to apply for the writ " 
 
 "Who's his lawyer?" 
 
 "Peterthwaite." 
 
 "Purchasable?" 
 
 "I don't know, but it's too late, anyhow. He 
 found Marchand at his home and got the writ. 
 Even if he backed out, Marchand wouldn't. 
 There's one man that can't be reached." 
 
 Masterman nodded. No one need tell him of 
 the incorruptibility of Judge Marchand. 
 
 "But a business necessity Marchand might 
 do something," said Greenham. 
 
 "He can't recall the writ if it's been served on 
 the commissioner a writ demanding that Mack 
 be produced in court to-morrow morning," snap- 
 ped Masterman. 
 
 Greenham had known this as well as the finan- 
 cier. Only to ease the tension had he volun- 
 teered the suggestion. Masterman's face was im- 
 passive once again. His voice was chill. 
 
 "The writ returnable to-morrow morning, eh?
 
 146 PLUNDER 
 
 But that's ten hours off. In the meantime, Mack 
 might be made to talk !" 
 
 "When he has to be produced before the judge 
 in the morning?" 
 
 "Well?" The great man's tones were icy. 
 
 Greenham shook his head. 
 
 "I don't know just what this crisis is, Mr. 
 Masterman ; you haven't told me. But it can't be 
 any greater than the one if anything happened to 
 the man for whom Judge Marchand had issued 
 a writ of habeas corpus. I know Marchand; I'll 
 not monkey with him. And I advise you not to. 
 Better let Mack go at midnight as he demands. 
 The Citizen is after you all the time. If Mack 
 should choose to talk to one of their report- 
 ers " 
 
 "Keep reporters from him," said Masterman. 
 
 "He'll talk to some one the policeman on 
 guard in the corridor. He said to tell you that." 
 
 "He said that this morning, but I thought a 
 friend of his had the paper then. As it is, no 
 paper would believe his story, would dare to 
 print it without proof." 
 
 "But it's known that I arrested him, and that
 
 PLUNDER 147 
 
 I work for you. The Citizen's reporters are 
 clever. They'd put these facts with Mack's 
 story." 
 
 Masterman sank a little lower in his chair. 
 
 "Greenham, release the man. Have your men 
 follow him, but get the Rowland woman! I'll 
 pay you you know me- You needn't bother 
 about pay. Greenham, she's won her first move ; 
 I leave it to you to see that she makes no other." 
 
 "The first move? Then the universal trans- 
 fers " 
 
 The liveried servant knocked again on the 
 door. 
 
 "Mr. Lindley Jackson, sir." 
 
 "Show him up," said Masterman. 
 
 Still impassive, he turned to Greenham. 
 
 "Greenham," he said rapidly, "if Mack is re- 
 leased and his lawyer informs Judge Marchand 
 of that fact, the habeas proceedings fall flat, don't 
 they? Then get Peterthwaite to see Marchand 
 to-night and tell him of Mack's release. Then 
 Ah, Mr. Jackson, glad to see you. You know 
 Cardigan and Blaisdell, eh? Sit down and have 
 Something to smoke." He walked with Green-
 
 i 4 8 PLUNDER 
 
 ham to the door. "Mack might elude any one 
 following him, eh?" he said in a whisper. "But 
 if they shouldn't follow him? If they rush him 
 away in an auto? You understand?" 
 
 Greenham nodded. Not for long was Master- 
 man circumvented by the entrance of the incor- 
 ruptible Judge Marchand upon the scene. Mar- 
 chand, not knowing the gravity of the situation, 
 merely thinking that Peterthwaite's client was 
 some victim of ordinary police activity, would 
 be satisfied with that shyster's statement that 
 Mack had been released 1 before the serving of 
 the writ of habeas. If Peterthwaite's eloquence 
 had been enough to persuade the judge to issue 
 the writ in advance of any preliminary hearing 
 before a magistrate; if he had played upon Judge 
 Marchand's well-known distaste for police deten- 
 tion, under insufficient reason, of innocent men, 
 he would be able to gull that able but too-trusting 
 jurist further. And Mack could be spirited away, 
 made to talk. He came out of his dream of justi- 
 fying Masterman's faith in himself with a jar, 
 for, seated at the wheel of a powerful runabout 
 that stood beneath an arc light, was a man whom
 
 PLUNDER, 149 
 
 he knew well, Tom Hanrahan, of the Citizen. 
 Across the street were two other small cars, and 
 on the sidewalk, talking to Hanrahan, were two 
 other reporters from the paper owned and pub- 
 lished by Lindley Jackson. Greenham stared. 
 
 "What's the idea?" he asked, as Hanrahan 
 grinned and the other two approached. 
 
 "You're news, old top," said Hanrahan. 
 "When our respected boss is invited at the witch- 
 ing hour to visit Masterman, he takes a few of 
 us along. WTiere you going, Chief? For I'm 
 going the same place and I'll take you with me." 
 
 And Tom Hanrahan could give all the trumps 
 to the best detective that ever lived Greenham 
 admitted this himself and score a grand slam. 
 He could not be eluded. Right off the bat Mas- 
 terman's scheme had been beaten. There could 
 be no kidnaping of Harry Mack while Hanrahan, 
 at his chief's behest, was trailing the people who 
 left the Masterman household. 
 
 Greenham made the best of a bad matter. 
 
 "Headquarters, Tom," he said. 
 
 A little later Handsome Harry Mack was re- 
 leased.
 
 150 PLUNDER 
 
 "I pinched him on general principles interna- 
 tional crook," Greenham explained to the re- 
 porter. "No charge against him; made a mis- 
 take. Meant to have him released earlier, but 
 cable from England saying he wasn't wanted for 
 job over there didn't arrive till late, while I was 
 conferring with Masterman about some matters 
 that are nobody's business, Tom, old chap. I 
 didn't want Mack to have to sleep in a cell if he's 
 done nothing, that's all." 
 
 He had to tell all this, for the reporter, he 
 knew, would not leave him until he went to bed, 
 and would certainly learn the detective's mission 
 at police headquarters. 
 
 However, he still hoped to have his men trail 
 Mack after his release and carry out Masterman's 
 suddenly conceived, plan. But Tom Hanrahan 
 had no explicit orders from his chief. He was 
 to trail whoever left the Masterman household, 
 on general principles; if there was no news in 
 them, he could drop the trail. There was no 
 news, so far as Hanrahan could see, in Greenham, 
 But an international crook was always good for 
 a few sticks on the front page.
 
 PLUNDER 151 
 
 "Blind steer the boss gave me, eh?" mused 
 Hanrahan. "Well, then I'll get a yam out of this 
 Mack." 
 
 And when Mack was released the reporter 
 proffered the use of his car, which Handsome 
 Harry, with a grin at Greenham he was no 
 chicken, this Handsome Harry, and was quick 
 to guess Greenham's impotent anger and its 
 cause accepted thankfully. In the reporter's 
 high-powered runabout owned, be it remarked, 
 by Mr. Jackson Handsome Harry sped up- 
 town. After they had ridden for a couple of 
 squares 'the crook spoke to the reporter. 
 
 "I suppose you know," he said, "that Green- 
 ham's men are following us in taxis?" 
 
 "What's the answer?" inquired Hanrahan. 
 "Where do you and Martin Masterman hitch 
 up?" 
 
 It was imperative, thought Handsome Harry, 
 that he shake off the trailing sleuths. He under- 
 stood perfectly that the next time he was taken 
 into custody he would be placed where no writs 
 of habeas or threats to tell the newspapers what 
 he knew would earn his release. Of course he
 
 1 52 PLUNDER 
 
 could tell Hanrahan the truth, and Hanrahan's 
 paper would protect him from Greenham's agents. 
 But, needless to say, Handsome Harry was not 
 telling any one the truth just yet, not until his own 
 game had been played and lost. And he did not 
 intend to lose. 
 
 "The answer?" echoed Handsome Harry eas- 
 ily. "Well, suppose I should tell you that the 
 Botticelli bought by Martin Masterman last 
 winter for one hundred and forty thousand dol- 
 lars was a fake, and that Martin Masterman 
 thought he could prove I planned the fake and 
 copped his money? What sort of a story would 
 that make?" 
 
 "And those birds behind are unsatisfied still of 
 your innocence and are trailing you to lead them 
 to better evidence?" 
 
 "Go to the head of the class, Mr. Reporter for 
 the Citizen," laughed Handsome Harry. 
 
 They were crossing a crowded street. Hanra- 
 han looked back again. A story that would make 
 Martin Masterman ridiculous would tickle Lind- 
 ley Jackson, who hated the billionaire, and Jack- 
 son was Hanrahan's employer.
 
 PLUNDER 153 
 
 "Those taxis can make forty-five if they have 
 to. This baby," and he patted the wheel, "will 
 do ninety. Do you like fast riding, Mr. Mack ?" 
 
 "Anything less than fifty feels tame to me," 
 grinned Mack. 
 
 "Well, let's be wild for once," said Hanrahan. 
 
 The runabout shot ahead like a bullet. A few 
 squares farther on it was bettering fifty miles, 
 and before many minutes the pursuing taxicabs 
 were out of sight.
 
 X 
 
 IN ONE corner Masterman discussed with 
 Creighton, publisher of the Tribunal, some 
 additions lately made to the Art Museum. Blais- 
 dell, nervous and showing slight traces of the 
 fact that he had consumed three pints of cham- 
 pagne, complimented Highlands, owner of the 
 Star, on the series of Sunday articles the Star 
 was printing about the food sources of the coun- 
 try; a series, by the way, which proved to the 
 satisfaction of its author, his employer and Blais- 
 dell, that the country would starve but for the 
 genius of the little greedy man who was Lord of 
 the Granary and Market. 
 
 Sanderson, Mannering and Cowdray, owners 
 of the Planet, the Orb and the Despatch, chatted 
 on various subjects with Cardigan. Yerkes and 
 MlcGaffey, of the Wire and the Transcript, two 
 papers as wide apart in politics and treatment of 
 the news as the two poles, who, through their 
 154
 
 PLUNDER 155 
 
 editorial columns sneered and decried each other, 
 chatted with every evidence of pleasure. 
 
 Only Lindley Jackson, owner, publisher and 
 editor of the Citizen, sat alone. His champagne 
 was untasted; the plate of sandwiches on the 
 little table beside his chair remained undimin- 
 ished. He even smoked one of his own cigars, 
 rather than the rare, expressly manufactured 
 panetelas of Martin Masterman. Careless about 
 his appearance apparently, one looked twice at 
 Lindley Jackson, greatest newspaper genius of 
 his age, before one saw that everything about 
 him was in harmony. If his hair seemed untidy 
 one noted that it was a careful untidiness. The 
 loosely knotted tie with its poetically flowing 
 ends bore out the scheme. An artistic poseur, 
 even the pose gave the effect required of loosely 
 restrained energy. 
 
 A 1 man of great genius, he was not above de- 
 manding flattery of his genius. Altruistic pub- 
 licly, always making the Citizen stand for the 
 rights of the people, privately he was a bit of a 
 snob. But his snobbishness was intellectual; it 
 was not based on any material possessions. He
 
 156 PLUNDER 
 
 despised the three millionaires more because he 
 deemed them vulgarians than because of their 
 methods of acquiring wealth. His real, though 
 unuttered, objection to colossal wealth was that 
 it brutalized the possessor and all those with 
 whom the possessor came into contact. He had 
 no real love for the people, because he did not 
 respect them. That, for centuries, they had per- 
 mitted a few to rob them in wholesale fashion, 
 and enslave them, made them worthy of contempt. 
 He believed the people neither capable of self- 
 rule nor worthy of it, but he believed, and sin- 
 cerely, that because the people did not deserve 
 a thing was no reason why they should not have 
 it. The people could hardly make a greater mess 
 of their affairs than was being made for them by 
 others; it was their inalienable privilege to go to 
 the deuce in their own way. He believed that all 
 had inherited the earth equally; that one man 
 had as much right to rule as another. That he 
 might not be fit to rule was beside the question. 
 A queer combination was Lindley Jackson, and 
 he fought with all his genius, unsparing of his 
 health or wealth, for a people in whose genius,
 
 PLUNDER 157 
 
 in the mass, he did not trust, because the divinity 
 in each human being, however clouded by ignor- 
 ance, carried with it title to a share in earthly 
 power. So he believed, and so he fought. And 
 now he glowered at Masterman. He hurled his 
 cigar into a fireplace. 
 
 "I take it," he said, suavely insulting, "that 
 we aren't here to discuss art, prize-fighting, or" 
 with a sneer at Blaisdell "the wonderful 
 genius of the gentleman who invented the food 
 corner. We're here because Masterman wants 
 something of us. What is it, Masterman?" 
 
 There were very few men who spoke to the 
 master of transporation without 'the prefix 
 "Mister." If they knew him intimately he was 
 "Martin." Otherwise, "Mr. Masterman." But 
 Lindley Jackson was one of the few who did not 
 fear Martin Masterman. His great newspaper 
 was financially independent of the financier. 
 More than once had Masterman planned to ruin 
 Jackson, but the latter had been too clever for 
 him. He even forced the very interests he de- 
 nounced to advertise in his paper, in very fear of 
 what further injury he might do them.
 
 I 5 8 PLUNDER 
 
 Cowdray and Yerkes frowned at the publisher 
 of the Citizen. Others stared at him, hostility in 
 their eyes; but Masterman smiled ingratiatingly. 
 He struck his library table with the palm of his 
 hand, and those present came to attention as at 
 a chairman's gavel. Masterman came directly to 
 the point. 
 
 "Mr. Jackson is right; I beg his pardon for 
 taking up his time with trivialities. I have invited 
 you gentlemen who lead public opinion to come 
 to my house because I wished to ask something 
 of you. But not for myself for the nation." 
 
 He paused and looked into every face. From 
 all save one he received the glance of encourage- 
 ment, of subservience, he wished. That one was 
 the scowling countenance of Lindley Jackson. 
 
 "Patriotism, gentlemen," continued Master- 
 man, "is not dead yet. I know that, and because 
 I know it " 
 
 Jackson took out his watch. 
 
 "Five minutes of twelve," he interrupted 
 rudely. "I have to be at my office at twelve- 
 thirty. Forget the introduction, Masterman. 
 Come down to earth."
 
 PLUNDER 159 
 
 Masterman winced slightly at the interruption, 
 but he held in his anger. It would not do to 
 quarrel with Lindley Jackson. 
 
 "I will," said he. "To-night, gentlemen, there 
 is loose a force that menaces have I your as- 
 surance that what I say will be treated con- 
 fidentially?" 
 
 There was a murmur of assent from all save 
 Jackson. He answered: 
 
 "You most certainly have not, Masterman. I'll 
 print anything you say to-night if it has news 
 value." 
 
 It was an impasse. Unless Jackson could be 
 made to reconsider this, there was no use in 
 going further in the effort to render harmless 
 the bombshell which Kirby Rowland promised 
 to fire. The financier was silent a moment. 
 
 "Look here, Jackson," he said at length, "be 
 reasonable. It's a mighty vital situation. I 
 have assurance that my words will be kept 
 secret" 
 
 Jackson thought in his turn. 
 
 "Masterman, you just mentioned some force 
 that menaced something probably yourself. Is
 
 160 PLUNDER 
 
 it possible that I will hear of this force from 
 some one other than yourself?" 
 
 "It is," said Masterman. There was nothing 
 else to say. 
 
 "Then go ahead talk," said Jackson. "If I 
 hear of this elsewhere I will not be bound by 
 my promise to you." 
 
 "Certainly not," said Masterman. "Not bound 
 by a promise, but bound by patriotism. Listen: 
 A certain paper was signed by certain men, who 
 in that paper agreed, with other men, to follow 
 a given course of action. I can be no clearer. 
 That paper has been lost. The person who has 
 found it threatens to take the paper to the news- 
 papers. The publication of that paper would 
 mean anarchy. I mean that. It is as serious 
 as that, because the contents of the paper would 
 be misunderstood by the people. Have I your 
 promises, gentlemen, that, out of patriotism, you 
 will refuse to print the contents of that docu- 
 ment if it is offered to you?" 
 
 "In so serious a matter," said Cowdray pomp- 
 ously, "I am certain that none of my brethren 
 of the press would think of printing it. You,
 
 PLUNDER 161 
 
 Mr. Masterman, are not given to idle utterances. 
 What you say is received with consideration. I 
 think my colleagues agree with me." 
 
 There were nods of assent. Jackson sneered. 
 
 "How much of your bond issue did Master- 
 man handle, Cowdray?" he laughed. "You'll 
 have to do better than that, Masterman. I'll 
 print such a paper if it's offered to me." 
 
 "Even though it wrecked business?" inquired 
 Masterman. 
 
 Jackson smiled, crossed his knees and brought 
 the tips of his fingers together. 
 
 "Of course, Masterman, it's clear that you and 
 some of your precious friends signed this mys- 
 terious document, and it is equally clear that it 
 must be inimical to the interests of the people. 
 A newspaper's business is to print the news. 
 What you do is news. What you do inimical to 
 the interests of the people is tremendous news. 
 If I get a crack at that paper I'll certainly 
 print it." 
 
 "Though it might mean the end of the present 
 order?" 
 
 "If this republic can't stand the exposure of
 
 i6a PLUNDER 
 
 the schemes of you and your fellow highbinders, 
 Masterman, then heaven help the republic!" 
 
 "You have no patriotism!" cried Masterman. 
 
 "Patriotism, my dear man," smiled Jackson, 
 "is capable of many definitions. I do not define 
 it as love for a government; I define it as love 
 for a people. I do not love the people I despise 
 them; but I am very sorry for them, sorry that 
 they have been cheated out of their rights so 
 long. If to restore to the people their rights it 
 became necessary to tear down the system you 
 have corrupted, then I'd tear down the system. 
 Am I clear?" 
 
 "Exceedingly," said Masterman. 
 
 "Thank you," said Jackson. "Now, then, why 
 are we here? You did not call us here to tell us 
 in inchoate terms of this document. You called 
 us here to get our attitude in order that you might 
 know what to do in case of our refusal to be 
 gulled by you. That alternative has a news value, 
 of course, or you would not have invited us to 
 be present to-night. You have something else 
 up your sleeve, Masterman. What is it?"
 
 PLUNDER 163 
 
 "Will you gentlemen excuse us a moment?" 
 Masterman asked the others. 
 
 Obsequious assents were swiftly given. In 
 response to a nod Jackson followed Masterman 
 into another room. There the financier took 
 out his pocketbook; he opened it. 
 
 "We are still speaking in confidence, Jackson ? 
 Well, I had doubts of your attitude in regard to 
 the matter we have just discussed. I telephoned 
 Mr. Warren Sheldon this evening. He imme- 
 diately wrote and sent me this note. I shall read 
 it to you. 
 
 " 'My dear Mr. Masterman : Permit me to 
 answer your telephonic question of ten minutes 
 ago to this effect : I have for Mr. Lindley Jack- 
 son the highest esteem and respect, though he 
 has seen fit to pillory me as a conscienceless politi- 
 cal boss times without number. But even though 
 it has been my misfortune to oppose him in the 
 past, it will be my good fortune to stand behind 
 him in the future if you so wish. If your inter- 
 ests will be served by his nomination for the 
 governorship, rest assured that it is a pleasure 
 to me to serve you. With the highest esteem, 
 " 'Yours sincerely, 
 
 " 'WARREN SHELDON.' "
 
 164 PLUNDER 
 
 Warren Sheldon had, the year previously, 
 snatched a nomination from the hands of Jack- 
 son. And now the great boss was to stand 
 behind him if Jackson willed. Jackson smiled. 
 
 "Because I have sometimes admitted that I do 
 not believe the people have, as a mass, any com- 
 mon sense, people like you think I am a hypo- 
 crite in fighting for their rights. I don't blame 
 you; small minds understand only small natures. 
 But confound you, Masterman, I can't be bought. 
 I'm a newspaper man first, last, and all the time ! 
 I want the news, and the public wants me to 
 give it to them! The public I serve because it 
 ought to be served, whether it appreciates service 
 or not. I want no more of your confidences or 
 your bribes. You have news for my paper? 
 Then give it to me now!" 
 
 .There was a silence in the room, broken, as an 
 hour earlier, by the strokes of the clock in the 
 near-by tower. Only this time the clock struck 
 twelve. r And before its last deep tones had died 
 away, in the next room Martin Masterman was 
 making an announcement. 
 
 "To-morrow, morning, gentleman," he said,
 
 PLUNDER 165 
 
 "the transportation lines of this city will issue 
 universal transfers to all passengers. I bespeak, 
 on behalf of the corporations interested, your 
 own and the public's tolerance until the new 
 system has had a chance. It will take time to 
 print the millions of transfer tickets needed. 
 There will be necessary reconstruction of many 
 things." He paused. The cup of defeat was bit- 
 ter. "This step is being taken for the benefit 
 of the public, because the companies feel it is 
 the public's due," he concluded. 
 
 Only Lindley Jackson dared to laugh at the 
 last words of the grim-faced man who, all under- 
 stood vaguely, had waged some sort of losing 
 fight that night, but at the gravity of whose defeat 
 not even Jackson could guess. Martin Master- 
 man had invoked the aid of the press and had 
 lost! For if ninety-nine papers concealed what 
 another paper printed, to the hundredth shall 
 come the victory. Which is one of the reasons 
 why the press must be honest. 
 
 Silently and swiftly the publishers departed. 
 News articles must be written, editorials prepared. 
 At twenty minutes past one the first editions
 
 166 PLUNDER 
 
 were on the street, declaiming, in deep head-lines, 
 the news which was to save a million nickels a 
 day to the people of New York, and which was 
 really the announcement of the first victory in 
 Kirby Rowland's war.
 
 XI 
 
 IT WAS Grant's first intention to call upon 
 those of Kirby's friends with whom she 
 might have taken refuge, but his second thought 
 showed him the folly of this, not to speak of the 
 waste of time. It would be better to telephone, 
 though his anxiety for her safety could hardly 
 brook the time required for telephoning. But if 
 Greenham knew enough to find out Kirby's 
 address, the chances were that he knew enough 
 to put men to work tracing Kirby's social rela- 
 tionships. One of the Greenham men might 
 have found Kirby already. He would be losing 
 time chasing from place to place. Four num- 
 bers he called without result; Kirby was not at 
 these places, nor had her friends seen her. But 
 the fifth call was answered by a voice that always 
 thrilled young Grant. 
 
 "Kirby!" he gasped. "Then you're all right?" 
 167
 
 168 PLUNDER 
 
 "Why, how did you know? Aren't you 
 
 in 
 
 "Be right over," he interrupted. "Don't you 
 dare leave!" 
 
 He had phoned from a drug store that was 
 not many blocks distant from the apartments 
 where Kirby's friend lived. A car left him a 
 few steps from her door in five minutes. Another 
 minute and Kirby had admitted him to the 
 apartment. 
 
 "Alone?" he asked. 
 
 She blushed ; whereupon he put his arms round 
 her. Then she led him into the drawing-room. 
 
 "What happened?" he demanded. 
 
 She told him of her escape, and of her coming 
 to the apartment of Jessie Sigmund, a fellow 
 artist 
 
 "I wanted to get somewhere, to think, to plan. 
 I phoned Jessie and told her that I wanted her 
 to put me up for the night. Jessie isn't the kind 
 to ask questions, you know. She told me to 
 come over, and offered to break an engagement 
 she had made for the evening if I wished her 
 to. But I didn't. So, as she was going right out,
 
 "He wants that paper for the money in it"
 
 PLUNDER 169 
 
 she left the key with the elevator boy. But why 
 aren't you in Jersey? How did you know " 
 
 He told her of his experiences. 
 
 "Mack," he said thoughtfully, "saved us both. 
 Why?" 
 
 "Underneath his crookedness and cruelty," she 
 suggested, "he must have a streak of chivalry 
 that made him " 
 
 "Not Mack!" laughed Grant. "He had his 
 reasons, but chivalry was not among them. It 
 wouldn't account for his tipping me off that you 
 weren't at home, but that some one else probably 
 was there. No, not chivalry. And yet, what was 
 his reason? He hadn't experienced a change of 
 heart, Kirby. He wants that paper for the money 
 in it. It's beyond me!" 
 
 "Me too," she said. There was silence while 
 both thought. 
 
 "Dick," she asked at length, "what are we 
 going to do you, I mean ? You won't leave the 
 city?" 
 
 "I've thought it all over," he answered, "and 
 I absolutely refuse to leave you alone to face 
 Masterman and Mack. I'm going to stay."
 
 170 PLUNDER 
 
 "Where?" 
 
 "Oh, I'll find a hundred places," he answered 
 easily. "But you ? Where will you stay ?" 
 
 "Here with Jessie." 
 
 He laughed. "How long before Greenham's 
 men will be here looking for you? You slipped 
 away once, Kirby, but they'll take care not to 
 let you again. We must think " 
 
 The door-bell rang. They started. 
 
 "Don't answer," whispered Kirby. 
 
 He shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 "The hallboy knows I entered." 
 
 He started for the door, but she ran in front 
 of him. 
 
 "If it's one of Greenham's men I may be able 
 to put him off. Don't let him see you." 
 
 She half pushed him into the little den off the 
 drawing-room, and then she opened the front 
 door. His eye at the crack in the den door, Grant 
 saw a man face Kirby. 
 
 "Miss Sigmund?" he inquired. 
 
 "Well?" said Kirby. 
 
 "I'm looking for a friend of yours Miss 
 Kirby Rowland. Is she here?"
 
 PLUNDER 171 
 
 "Miss Rowland? There is no other woman 
 here," said Kirby. Though her back was to him 
 Grant guessed the expression on her face; the 
 slightly raised eyebrows, the faintly quizzical 
 expression, with a touch of superiority in the 
 eyes ; the hint of a haughty curl to the lips. 
 
 "Then you ain't seen her to-day, Miss Sig- 
 mund?" persisted the man, politely abashed. 
 
 "And if I had, is there any reason why I should 
 inform utter strangers of the fact? What is your 
 business with Miss Rowland? You look, if I 
 may say it without offense, like a detective." 
 
 "No offense at all, ma'am. That's me. I'm 
 lookin' for the young lady, and I want her bad." 
 
 "Want Kirby Rowland? What on earth ha> 
 she done?" Amazement was in every syllable. 
 
 "Why, nothin', ma'am leastwise, nothin' 
 criminal, I don't think. But I got a friend that's 
 mighty anxious to see her and " 
 
 "I can't believe any such thing," snapped 
 Kirby. "You you're insulting! Miss Rowland 
 is well known to me. Good evening!" 
 
 She closed the door upon an utterly crestfallen 
 detective. It was not what she had said; it was
 
 172 PLUNDER 
 
 the timbre of her voice, the lightning play of 
 expression upon her mobile features. There was 
 abjectness almost in the man's manner as he 
 backed away. Kirby Rowland could play the 
 grandc dame as well as any tragedy queen. She 
 laughed as Grant emerged from the den. 
 
 "Did I do well?" she asked. 
 
 He did not answer as he walked swiftly across 
 the room, raised the shade a few inches and knelt 
 on the floor, peering from the side of the win- 
 dow lest the electric light cast his shadow and 
 betray his watchfulness. 
 
 "You did well, Kirby," he then said softly, "but 
 the game isn't over yet." He watched a moment, 
 then beckoned to her. He made room for her 
 to look out. "In that areaway opposite. See 
 him just a blotch in the shadows?" 
 
 Kneeling side by side they looked at each other. 
 
 "And what does that mean?" she asked 
 nervously. "Didn't he believe that I was Jessie ?" 
 
 He rose and helped her up. 
 
 "Undoubtedly he did and does. But, Kirby, 
 I wonder if either of us realizes the immensity of 
 the forces we've set in motion against ourselves?
 
 PLUNDER 173 
 
 That was a Greenham operative, as they call 
 them, no doubt of that. Why did he come here? 
 Because he had learned that Miss Sigmund is one 
 of your friends. Why, not finding you here, 
 hasn't he gone on to some other of your friends? 
 Because, Kirby, there's a Greenham man watch- 
 ing the home of every friend of yours in the 
 city. Already ! I'll wager my life on it" 
 
 "Absurd!" she scoffed. Yet her lips quivered 
 slightly, and her eyes took on a hunted look. 
 "That would take Oh, I know scores of peo- 
 ple over a hundred whom I meet round at 
 various places." 
 
 "And if there were a thousand homes to watch, 
 the Greenham shrewdness and the Masterman 
 money would supply those men by noon to-mor- 
 row, Kirby. As it is " 
 
 "More absurd!" she said, though her expres- 
 sion belied her words. "How would they know 
 my friends? And so soon? Of course I often 
 call up Jessie, and the hallboy at the studios could 
 have given her name and address ; but the others ? 
 The ones I never telephone to and do not see 
 often, but that are yet good friends?"
 
 174 PLUNDER 
 
 "Every newspaper office keeps a department 
 devoted to clippings from its own and other 
 papers," he answered. "Your name is there 
 lots of clippings about you, without doubt, for 
 you're getting known in the art world. More- 
 over, you attend various functions given by peo- 
 ple not without some social prominence. How 
 simple! One of Greenham's men looked up 
 'Rowland Kirby' in the clippings. He sees your 
 name among the list of guests at various affairs. 
 And the Greenham men are shadowing every one 
 of those other guests, who may or may not be 
 intimate friends of yours." 
 
 She was appalled. 
 
 "Not really?" 
 
 "I don't say that it's been done already to that 
 extent. At least I doubt if every person whose 
 name has been mentioned in the same item with 
 yours has been shadowed. But by to-morrow 
 yes ! Kirby, think what's at stake ! What is the 
 spending of a few thousand dollars to Masterman 
 now ? Miss Sigmund will be home at midnight, 
 you said? Well, leave it to that man across the
 
 PLUNDER 175 
 
 street to find out the name of every person that 
 enters this apartment house from now on! We 
 were lucky just now. The night boy has come 
 on since Miss Sigmund left ; he didn't know that 
 you'd got her key from the day boy. But when 
 she comes home that man across the street will 
 make inquiries." 
 
 "And what can they do now that we are pre- 
 pared, that you are with me?" she demanded. 
 "They don't dare " 
 
 "The Masterman influence can get a warrant 
 for your arrest on any charge," replied Grant 
 soberly. "For mine too. And we'd never reach 
 the police station. It would be a case of kidnap- 
 ing, pure and simple. Unless we took some other 
 person into our confidence and had them threaten 
 Masterman but that wouldn't do. Too many 
 people knowing of it it would be public property 
 in a day or so. And that means we'd almost 
 rather lose than see anarchy destroy this city, this 
 nation, wouldn't we, Kirby?" 
 
 She shuddered. 
 
 "But what can I do ?" For a moment she was
 
 176 PLUNDER 
 
 helpless, looking to him for suggestion. But she 
 was the kind that rallies quickly. "Of course! 
 I can go to some hotel. Now!" 
 
 "Only Greenham and one operative have seen 
 you so far, eh at least, so far as we know ? That 
 would help a little, but mighty little. You don't 
 realize the whole extent of the Masterman power 
 and the Greenham shrewdness. Kirby, I'll bet 
 my last cent that every hotel in the city is on the 
 lookout for a pretty girl that answers your 
 description. Every young woman that enters any 
 New York hotel to-night or to-morrow will be 
 looked over, shortly after registering, by a Green- 
 ham agent. Every house detective will have his 
 eyes peeled for you, not knowing why you're 
 wanted, but simply knowing that you are wanted. 
 That man who just came in here the last thing 
 in the world he expected was that you yourself 
 would answer the door at his ring. Moreover, 
 the light was in his eyes, while your face was in 
 shadow, and you've put on something of Jessie's, 
 haven't you?" 
 
 She nodded.
 
 PLUNDER 177 
 
 "She told me I could when I phoned her. 
 We're about the same size." 
 
 "Well, that helped some. He was looking for 
 a girl who wore the same sort of clothes you had 
 on when Greenham saw you. But at a hotel 
 where every girl will be scrutinized, and where 
 you couldn't always have your face in the shadow, 
 and where suspicion will be pointing toward you 
 because you are young, pretty and alone it 
 won't do, Kirby." 
 
 "I don't suppose it would," she answered 
 thoughtfully. "But there are hundreds of board- 
 ing and lodging houses. There no one would sus- 
 pect anything, unless my description were printed 
 in the papers, and Masterman dare not do that, 
 for fear of what I may do in retaliation." 
 
 "Right," he admitted. "But, Kirby, you can't 
 be chasing round to a lodging house to-night. 
 You have no baggage, either." 
 
 "Jessie's," she said. "I could borrow a suit- 
 case and stock it and to-morrow return the 
 things, after buying others for myself." 
 
 "It might be done," he agreed slowly, "and 
 still "
 
 178 PLUNDER 
 
 Again a ring at the door. Like a flash he 
 leaped to the window, and kneeling, looked out. 
 The blotch was still visible in the deepening 
 shadows of the areaway. He arose and tiptoed 
 into the den. She looked a question at him. He 
 pointed toward the window. 
 
 "Still outside, so it's not he," he whispered. 
 "Open." 
 
 From behind the den door, as before, he 
 watched, ready to leap to her rescue if need arose. 
 He dared not answer the door himself lest another 
 Greenham detective be there and his presence in 
 some manner arouse suspicion. While Kirby 
 was probably being sought more earnestly than 
 himself, she had deceived the first Greenham man 
 and it was probable she could do the same thing 
 again. It was not cowardice that made him seek 
 concealment, it was Common sense. For if this 
 were a Greenham agent ringing at the door, the 
 failure of Kirby to open it as she had done for 
 the other man would inevitably make the man 
 anxious for a good look at her. Whereas, if she 
 went to the door her very boldness would win 
 again. Then he laughed silently from his watch-
 
 PLUNDER 179 
 
 ing place as Kirby opened the door and disclosed 
 the cause for all this wild reasoning a dimin- 
 utive and most worldly messenger. 
 
 "Miss Jessie Sigmund, lady? Message for 
 youse, ma'am. Kin'ly sign here, an' don't forget 
 the han'some blond that brings the good nooze. I 
 always loves to bring telegrams to the ladies, 
 ma'am, because they're so gen'rous. God bless 
 their lovely eyes." 
 
 He inhaled smoke from his cigarette, tipped his 
 cap a trifle to one side, and looked at Kirby with 
 all the harmless impudence of a cocky young 
 sparrow. He was about sixteen, but an old man 
 in experience. Silently Kirby tipped him, and 
 closed the door upon his thanks. 
 
 "Did you see his eyes, Dick?" she asked. 
 "There were pouches beneath them, and they 
 were old, old! And his hand shook. Sixteen 
 or seventeen no more. And look at him! He 
 never was a child; he has had no youth. It's 
 for him, and thousands like him, that we are 
 fighting that they may have a fairer chance; 
 that the children may see green fields and 
 breathe fresh air ! At times to-day I've wondered
 
 i8o PLUNDER 
 
 if I dared go on. But there are thousands of boys 
 like him, right in this city, who will never have 
 a chance, unless those who make conditions that 
 raise a boy like that are forced to make better 
 conditions. Dick, the universal transfer is but 
 the measure of our sword. If we succeed in our 
 first move, what more may we not accomplish? 
 We can't, we won't give up!" 
 
 "Give up, Kirby? Why, the fight is hardly 
 started. But what about that telegram?" 
 
 She was holding it at arm's length. Tele- 
 grams held for her the dread they hold for all 
 women who receive them rarely. She continued 
 to stare at it. 
 
 "Poor Jessie," she said slowly; "her father may 
 be dead." 
 
 Grant laughed. 
 
 "Kirby, a moment ago you frightened me. I 
 thought you were an avenging angel, and angels, 
 as I understand it, never marry. Now I know 
 you're a woman, and women do marry, don't 
 they?" 
 
 She flashed a smile that was his answer. 
 
 "But what shall I do with this?" she asked
 
 PLUNDER 181 
 
 "Why, put it on a table where Jessie will see 
 it the first thing when she comes home." 
 
 "But supposing it's very important. She'd 
 want to know." 
 
 "You know where she went ? Then phone her 
 and tell her that it's here." 
 
 "And frighten her half to death! Men are so 
 silly!" she exclaimed. 
 
 "All right," he chuckled; "we're back where we 
 started. Put it on the table." 
 
 "But supposing it's very important? It will 
 be hours and hours " 
 
 "Then open it yourself," he suggested. "If 
 it's news she ought to have it telephoned her. 
 If it isn't you can easily explain " 
 
 "I wonder if I ought to?" 
 
 "I refuse to make the final decision," he smiled. 
 "You know Jessie pretty well ; it wouldn't be pry- 
 ing curiosity that would make you open it. She 
 couldn't very well be offended." 
 
 She opened the message and read it; then she 
 looked at Grant. Tiny lines appeared at the 
 corners of her eyes; her mouth pursed bewitch- 
 ingly in puzzlement.
 
 182 PLUNDER 
 
 "Listen," she commanded. She read: 
 
 " 'Inform Mastermans can not leave Denver 
 for three weeks. Going on camping trip. 
 
 " 'ADELE.' ' 
 
 
 "What's the answer?" he inquired. 
 
 "You don't read the art news, do you? Not 
 so much as I do, anyway. This telegram is from 
 Adele Rohan, a great friend of Jessie's they 
 were together in the Latin Quarter in Paris. 
 She's a portrait painter who's created a furor in 
 the last year. A genius, with all of genius' 
 eccentricities. It was in the papers a month ago 
 that Masterman had commissioned her to paint 
 the portrait of his little girl. You've read of 
 her Laurel Masterman, his invalid daughter? 
 Jessie told me at the time that she'd be surprised 
 if Adele ever executed the commission. She hates 
 the very rich. She's half French and half west- 
 ern, you know, with the exuberance of both 
 temperaments. This is her method of flouting 
 Masterman's millions. She wires a friend to 
 inform Masterman ; doesn't bother to inform him 
 herself. Going on a camping trip when a ten-
 
 PLUNDER 183 
 
 thousand-dollar commission is awaiting her 
 pleasure! And Jessie told me that Masterman 
 and Adele had never met. He simply saw some 
 of her portraits of children at the last exhibi- 
 tion at the Academy, and wrote to her. He's 
 never seen her!" 
 
 Her words were crisp and clear and her teeth 
 met sharply over the last of them. 
 
 "Well?" said Grant. 
 
 "He's going to see her to-night!" 
 
 "Still I don't understand, Kirby." 
 
 "Men are stupid," she smiled. "Look, m'sieu, 
 upon Ma'mselle Rohan, combination of cow- 
 puncher and danseuse ! Look ! For you may not 
 have a chance again, m'sieu. I might flout you in 
 a second and refuse to talk with you. I am a 
 genius; no mere worker at miniatures, unknown 
 and humble. I am Ma'mselle Rohan, m'sieu, and 
 if you read the papers and believe them, you 
 must know that I have all the grace of a French- 
 woman and all the strength of a broncho-buster. 
 Also, I am eccentric, rude and careless as to 
 whom I offend. I despise millionaires. I work 
 when it suits me; I come when I choose and I
 
 1 84 PLUNDER 
 
 leave in the middle of a portrait if the mood 
 seizes me. For, m'sieu, I am Adele Rohan, and 
 a genius before whom mere riches bow down. 
 Do you understand? Look?" 
 
 And she tore the telegram across and across 
 again, dropping the pieces in a waste-basket. 
 
 "Kirby, you wouldn't! It's madness. I 
 won't permit " 
 
 "We aren't married yet, Dick, you know." 
 
 "But the risk ! Masterman may not know Miss 
 Rohan, but his friends " 
 
 "I told you she was eccentric. She knows no 
 one in New York but Jessie. She divides her 
 time between Colorado and Paris; she is in New 
 York merely between ocean liner and transconti- 
 netal train. And even if some one who has met 
 her in Paris or Denver should see me there is 
 risk in everything, Dick. Where else can I go in 
 safety? Some boarding house? I refuse. The 
 risk of this other scheme tempts me. And, 
 besides, what was it you said a moment ago? 
 The man who came here the last thing in the 
 world he expected was for me, in flight from his 
 fellows, to answer the bell. Will Masterman
 
 PLUNDER 185 
 
 dream that I dare go to his own house ? Remem- 
 ber Poe's story of the purloined letter. The safest 
 hiding-place is the most obvious; no one thinks 
 you will be there. I am going to Martin Master- 
 man's." 
 
 He knew how useless it was to battle against 
 her will when this reckless mood was upon her. 
 Moreover, there was hard common sense in what 
 she proposed. She must go somewhere to hide. 
 Why not in Masterman's house? Still he ob- 
 jected. 
 
 "Supposing Miss Rohan comes on after all? 
 You'd be arrested as an impostor." 
 
 "I can risk that, Dick, in a war like this." 
 
 "But how will you manage? You haven't 
 clothes " 
 
 "I will take Jessie's suit-case with a few 
 things ; I'll leave a note telling her what I've bor- 
 rowed. To-morrow I'll go shopping. I'll say 
 my trunk is on the road somewhere. I have 
 plenty of money; I took all that was in the apart- 
 ment two hundred dollars." She looked sud- 
 denly at him. "And you, Dick, have you any 
 money?"
 
 i86 PLUNDER 
 
 He smiled assurance. 
 
 "All I own in the world is in my pocket, Kirby. 
 I'm stronger financially than you are. I have 
 three hundred dollars. Not enough to make it 
 worth while to bother with a bank-account, and 
 it's always with me. I'm all right. Do you really 
 insist on going to Masterman's house?" 
 
 "I do. From there I'll dictate terms and never 
 be suspected. And you can telephone me in per- 
 fect safety. Ask for Miss Rohan. Dick, what 
 we've started we must finish, mustn't we? I am 
 certain God is with us." 
 
 "He is always on the side of justice," he 
 answered. 
 
 "Then since we work for justice, there is no 
 wrong in my impersonating Adele Rohan. And 
 luckily I can paint a large portrait as well as a 
 miniature. By the time she is due here I will 
 have worked out our plans with your help, for 
 we must see each other. And after that let Mas- 
 terman find out, I don't care. But where will 
 you be?" she asked with quick concern. 
 
 "In some lodging house," he told her. "I'll 
 be safe; but, Kirby, go slow. Let's see how this
 
 PLUNDER 187 
 
 transfer business works out before we demand 
 more. You know it's the custom of the ages 
 after all, and you and I well, let's go slow." 
 
 "You don't believe we're doing wrong?" 
 
 "No, not that. But we want to see how it 
 works out." 
 
 "It will work out for the benefit of the people 
 whose war we wage," she answered. 
 
 She disappeared into a bedroom, where she 
 put some things of Jessie Sigmund's into a suit- 
 case. Then she reentered the little parlor and 
 wrote a note to Jessie. It was a request to keep 
 her visit secret, and to forgive her for not wait- 
 ing to see her friend. 
 
 "It will do," she said, after reading it to Dick. 
 "Jessie is my dearest girl friend, and what would 
 make another suspicious will not have that effect 
 on her." 
 
 "But you don't tell her about the telegram," 
 remonstrated Dick. 
 
 "And give the whole game away ? That would 
 be bright!" 
 
 He flushed. 
 
 "I'm dull. But we better not leave the pieces
 
 1 88 PLUNDER 
 
 of the message." He drew them from the basket 
 and burned them. They looked about the apart- 
 ment as a ship-wrecked couple might look at the 
 island that had given them succor, and which they 
 dreaded leaving for the flimsy craft they had con- 
 structed themselves. 
 
 Then, having telephoned for a taxi and learned 
 that it waited below, they left the apartment. 
 Kirby gave the key to the night hallboy, and did 
 not wait to notice if he was surprised. Undoubt- 
 edly he was, for the Greenham operative had 
 given him a generous tip, and almost immediately 
 he crossed the street and told the waiting detec- 
 tive that it could not have been Miss Sigmund 
 who had opened the apartment door for him. 
 But by that time the taxicab had rounded a corner 
 and was gone. Later its chauffeur informed the 
 Greenham operative that he had dismissed his 
 charges at the terminal, but no one there remem- 
 bered having seen a couple who answered to the 
 descriptions of Kirby and Dick either take a train 
 or another taxi. The reason was obvious. They 
 had separated. Kirby had crossed the street and 
 taken a taxi alone, for the house of Martin Mas-
 
 PLUNDER 189 
 
 terman. Dick had gone to the express office and 
 ordered the suit-case sent to Miss Adele Rohan, 
 care of Martin Masterman. Then he had van- 
 ished into the subway. 
 
 While Terence Greenham reported to Master- 
 man, and while the obstinacy of Lindley Jackson 
 prevented Masterman from defying Kirby's 
 demands, that young woman, thoroughly worn- 
 out by her exciting day, was sleeping in an apart- 
 ment provided by the nervous elderly wife of 
 Masterman, who, born to comparative poverty, 
 had never really grown used to wealth at least, 
 not so used to it that she dared snub genius. And 
 genius had very bruskly refused to talk, but had 
 demanded to be shown her room. She even 
 refused to look at the sleeping child whom she 
 was to begin painting on the morrow or soon 
 after. For Kirby had heard Terence Greenham's 
 voice as she passed the financier's library, with 
 Mrs. Masterman, and bed seemed the safest 
 haven for her.
 
 XII 
 
 IN HIS sanctum in the Citizen office Lindley 
 Jackson, the editor, read the morning papers 
 and such afternoon editions as were already off 
 the press. And all save his own paper treated 
 the universal transfer story in the same fashion. 
 A Blow to Government Ownership! Corpora- 
 tions Have Souls! Consolidated Car Lines Con- 
 fer Benefit on Public! Big-Hearted Corporation 
 Puts Public Above Dividends! Of this sort were 
 the headings above the editorials, and the mat- 
 ter below the headings was full of praise for 
 Masterman and his associates. Martin Master- 
 man had struck a giant blow at the theory of gov- 
 ernment ownership. He had shown that privately 
 owned monopolies held the public's interests close 
 to their hearts. When a whole city had uncom- 
 plainingly been paying two fares for a ride in 
 subway and surface cars, or three fares if they 
 also rode in the elevated, Martin Masterman had 
 
 190
 
 PLUNDER 191 
 
 freely and cheerfully ordered the consolidated 
 companies to issue transfers from one line to the 
 other or others. All hail to Martin Masterman, 
 the man who put the soul in corporations! 
 
 Thus spoke the sheets owned by the men who, 
 with Jackson, had conferred with the three mil- 
 lionaires the previous night. But not so the Citi- 
 zen, owned by Lindley Jackson, yellow journalist, 
 genius and champion of the people. Jackson 
 turned to his own paper and reread his own edi- 
 torial, hastily written the previous night. It was 
 headed, A Gambler's Underhandedness, and was 
 about as savage a roast as Masterman had ever 
 suffered. 
 
 Without mincing words, Jackson charged 
 Masterman with having organized a conspiracy 
 to sell a stock short, and then granted universal 
 transfers in order that the market value of the 
 Consolidated Car Lines stock might be depressed, 
 affording Masterman an opportunity to buy in at 
 fifty what he had sold round ninety. Master- 
 man's greed was too well known for the Citizen 
 to have any faith in his sudden altruism. Martin 
 Masterman did nothing without a reason; money
 
 I 9 2 PLUNDER 
 
 was his only reason; therefore, to enrich his 
 private pocket he had mulcted his stockholders 
 by depressing the value of their holdings. Not 
 that the Citizen was against universal transfers; 
 it had always fought for them. But this sudden 
 granting of the right to the people savored of 
 crookedness toward the innocent stockholders. 
 Masterman could have announced the plan 
 months ago and given the market time to readjust 
 itself; as it was, the innocent and ignorant stock- 
 holders would be impoverished and Masterman 
 and his clique would be enriched. The announce- 
 ment was another argument in favor of the peo- 
 ple's control of the things which they had made 
 valuable by their patronage. For under govern- 
 ment ownership men like Masterman could not 
 rob a thousand Peters to pay a dozen Pauls. 
 
 There was more along the same line, and the 
 editorial was written to give the impression that 
 the editor could say a whole lot more if he chose, 
 and undoubtedly would when he considered the 
 time opportune. Frowning, Jackson reread his 
 own editorial. In it he had not abused the confi- 
 dence of last evening. The word of Lindley
 
 PLUNDER 193 
 
 Jackson was good. But Masterman had admit- 
 ted that there was a chance that the mysterious 
 paper of which he spoke might find its way into 
 the hands of the publisher, in which case, of 
 course, Jackson would use it as he saw fit. And 
 there is such a thing as compelling chance. The 
 publisher of the Citizen gloomed at his desk. 
 
 What was the nature of the paper the real 
 nature and how might it be obtained? He 
 thought he knew the answer to the first half of 
 this question. Certain gentlemen, Masterman 
 had said, had agreed in that paper to follow a 
 given course of action. His own logic told him 
 what that course of action must be to sell Con- 
 solidated Car Lines short. What Masterman had 
 said about ruining business was tommyrot. Mas- 
 terman was afraid that the contents of that paper 
 would become known to Jackson; hence he had 
 tried to tie up the publisher to an agreement to 
 keep quiet about the paper. He had talked myste- 
 riously of vague calamities which would result 
 from publication of the paper, in order to obtain 
 that withheld promise of suppression. That was 
 all. Masterman feared that publication of such
 
 i 9 4 PLUNDER 
 
 an agreement would mean jail for himself, and 
 probably was sincere in his statements about black 
 ruin to follow publication. For Masterman 
 undoubtedly believed that if anything happened 
 to himself the country would go at once to 
 destruction. 
 
 That was the solution of Masterman' s myste- 
 rious attitude and his request of Lindley Jackson. 
 Jackson smiled grimly. He would like nothing 
 better than to put Masterman behind the bars. 
 But now as to the other half of the question 
 how the paper might be obtained! He could 
 find in his fertile brain no answer to it. 
 
 Abstractedly he turned over the pages of the 
 Citizen. On the last page was a story whose 
 heading, Martin Masterman Made a Monkey, 
 attracted him. He read it. It was Tom Hanra- 
 han's account of the swindle that had been perpe- 
 trated on the financier when he bought, for one 
 hundred and forty thousand dollars, a purported 
 painting by the late Mr. Botticelli. 
 
 It was cleverly written; it avoided stating that 
 the painting was a fake, but pointed to that fact 
 that Harry Mack, notorious international crook,
 
 PLUNDER 195 
 
 had been arrested on a charge of obtaining money 
 by false pretenses; that the charge had been 
 lodged by the Greenhams, well-known agents of 
 the Masterman interests; and contained an inter- 
 view with the crook in which the latter refused 
 to deny that the painting was a fraud. Also it 
 told of Harry's midnight release, of the attempted 
 trailing of him by the Greenhams, and the crook's 
 escape in a high-powered car, the name of the 
 driver of which Hanrahan had neglected to state. 
 
 Jackson pressed a bell; a boy answered. 
 
 "Ask Mr. Lyden who wrote the story about 
 the Masterman painting," ordered the publisher, 
 "and have him send the reporter in to see me." 
 
 Hanrahan had sauntered into the office half an 
 hour ago, and was patiently waiting for an 
 assignment when the city editor told him that 
 Jackson wished to see him. He went at once to 
 Jackson's private office. 
 
 "Sit down, Tom. Have a cigar." 
 
 Jackson respected the men who gave him their 
 brains and hearts, and he did not pose before 
 them. He passed a panetela to the reporter. 
 
 "How'd you drop on to that story about the
 
 196 PLUNDER 
 
 Masterman Botticelli ? Too busy to talk with you 
 last night, and didn't suppose there was any need. 
 You didn't report to me that you'd learned any- 
 thing about the meaning of the conference at 
 Masterman's I mean, nothing suspicious hap- 
 pened that I couldn't have seen myself, I suppose. 
 Eh?" 
 
 "Nothing," said Hanrahan. "And when I got 
 into the office the other boys told me that you'd 
 called the sleuthing off, so " 
 
 "Sure. But about this Mack person? How 
 did you tumble to it?" 
 
 "Greenham led me to it," grinned Hanrahan. 
 
 Jackson tilted back in his swivel chair. 
 
 "Tell me about it," he requested. 
 
 The reporter told him. 
 
 "I saw Terence Greenham at Masterman's," 
 said the publisher thoughtfully, when Hanrahan 
 had finished recounting his experiences of the 
 night before. "I've never met him, but I recog- 
 nized him. I wondered then why he should be 
 there. I wondered more after Masterman had 
 talked a while. I'm wondering now."
 
 PLUNDER 197 
 
 "Doesn't what I've told you make it clear?" 
 asked Hanrahan. 
 
 "It would," said Jackson, "but for one thing." 
 
 "And that?" 
 
 "Is that I've seen Masterman's Botticelli. It 
 was on exhibition at the Plaza last fall, and if old 
 James B. Botticelli himself didn't paint that pic- 
 ture I never wrote an editorial. That painting 
 is no fake. I know a little about art, and the day 
 I saw the painting I was with Ralph Reid, who's 
 the greatest little expert on Old Masters that ever 
 breathed. Ralph pronounced it original. That's 
 enough for me. It's a corking good story and it 
 isn't libelous, and it makes a good joke of Martin 
 Masterman, which is very fine in our business; 
 but just the same this Harry Mack was stringing 
 you. He never sold a fake picture to Masterman ; 
 and Greenham's men never arrested him on that 
 charge. It was for something else. What?" 
 
 "You pan search me," said the bewildered 
 Hanrahan. 
 
 "Me too," admitted Jackson. "But that some- 
 thing else has to do with Martin Masterman's
 
 198 PLUNDER 
 
 reasons for asking me to be present at his house 
 last night. I gave my word that I'd not divulge 
 certain things that were said last night ; but I can 
 give you a hint, Tom. The governorship of this 
 state is pretty enticing bait, isn't it?" 
 
 "It most certainly is!" 
 
 "And I'm about the last man on earth that Mar- 
 tin Masterman would want to see at Albany, eh ?" 
 
 "I should think so," chuckled Hanrahan, think- 
 ing of the multitude of attacks the publisher had 
 made on the financier. 
 
 "And yet, Tom, it wouldn't be the hardest 
 thing in the world for me to become governor 
 of New York!" 
 
 The reporter stared at his employer in silence. 
 Jackson leaned forward until his face was close 
 to the countenance of his reporter. 
 
 "Tom," he said, "it would take something 
 pretty big to make Martin Masterman willing to 
 see me governor, eh? Something big! So big 
 that we want to know what it is. I can't tell 
 you more; even a confidence given to a Master- 
 man is inviolate. But this much I can tell you: 
 Martin Masterman wasn't thinking of pretty pic-
 
 PLUNDER 199 
 
 tures, whatever their value, last night; he was 
 thinking of mighty big things. And Terence 
 Greenham wasn't at Masterman's to pay a social 
 call. He was there on business he must have 
 been business so big that even if Mack had 
 defrauded Masterman it would have been drop- 
 ped for the time being. But and mind this the 
 Botticelli is not a fraud, as a dozen experts will 
 probably announce in the late afternoon papers. 
 Why, then, did Terence Greenham leave Martin 
 Masterman, at a time when Martin Masterman 
 was scared I can tell you that much, Tom 
 within an inch of his life, to go to headquarters 
 to release a crook named Mack? And why did 
 his men trail Mack, or try to, after his release? 
 Because, Tom, this Mack has something to do 
 with a thing so big that Martin Masterman, under 
 certain conditions, would gladly see me, me the 
 man who hates him, in the governor's chair at 
 Albany! And what Mack has to do with this 
 something big we must find out. Tom, it's up to 
 you to locate Mack and make him talk! Can 
 you do it?" 
 
 "Maybe," said Hanrahan slowly. "I can try."
 
 200 PLUNDER 
 
 "You'll have to do more than that, my boy, 
 if you want to be managing editor of the Citi- 
 zen." 
 
 "Is that the reward?" 
 
 "If Mack talks the way I think he can, that's 
 the reward. Now then, how're you going 
 about it ?" 
 
 Hanrahan arose and flecked cigar ashes from 
 his coat. Like every other good reporter he 
 would take an assignment to interview Satan 
 without, after his first start, showing any sur- 
 prise. 
 
 "I'll look up some of the hangouts where his 
 kind resort," he answered. "I ought to be able 
 to find him unless he's keeping almighty close." 
 
 "Good!" said Jackson. "And if you want any 
 money drop in on the cashier. I'll phone him to 
 be nice to you." 
 
 "Thanks," grinned Hanrahan. "G'-by, Chief." 
 
 Jackson grunted. He was already pressing a 
 button, and the office boy entered almost as Han- 
 rahan left 
 
 "Tell Mr. Lovett I want him," said Jackson. 
 
 Within a minute Lovett, the blackmail man of
 
 PLUNDER 201 
 
 the Citizen, entered the private office; but Jack- 
 son did not offer him the seat Hanrahan had 
 vacated, nor did he invite him to smoke. There 
 was a limit to Jackson's friendliness with his men, 
 and Lovett was the limit. Not that Lovett was 
 treated with discourtesy. On the contrary, Jack- 
 son treated him with courtesy, albeit frigidity. 
 One does not insult the man to whom one pays 
 one hundred and fifty dollars a week for bring- 
 ing in more news stories than any other two men 
 on the staff. And that's what Lovett did. But 
 no one, least of all Lindley Jackson, who used 
 him, respected him. 
 
 The blackmail man is one of the by-products 
 of yellow journalism. It is his job to approach 
 politicians suspected of being venal and try to 
 bribe them, that their corruptibility and conse- 
 quent shame may furnish reading matter for the 
 public. It is the blackmail man who bribes cham- 
 bermaids to steal the contents of waste-paper 
 baskets that torn-up letters may be pieced to- 
 gether and printed for the edification of the 
 readers of the yellows. It is the blackmail man 
 who performs all the dirty work of the yellows,
 
 202 PLUNDER 
 
 who rarely writes his stories, but furnishes the 
 news which cleaner men must transcribe into 
 print. 
 
 Lovett was a master of his art. There was 
 nothing he would disdain to do for money. Such 
 a man is mighty handy round a yellow journal, 
 although none of his fellows ever invite him into 
 their poker games or to split a pint with him. 
 Lindley Jackson despised the man. Yet it was 
 his belief that the public had a right to know 
 something of the private affairs of its political 
 and financial leaders. Such knowledge could be 
 obtained only by the use of men like Lovett. Men 
 high in place and shamefully unfaithful to the 
 public trust had been exposed in the Citizen 
 through the medium of Lovett, and good had 
 been accomplished. So Jackson justified his 
 employment of Lovett; but he was not friendly 
 to him. 
 
 "Lovett," he said tersely, "this man who gave 
 you the tip last winter about Masterman's being 
 behind that water-power bill is he still in Mas- 
 terman's employ?" 
 
 Lovett shook his head.
 
 PLUNDER 203 
 
 "Couldn't keep away from the drink," he said. 
 "Talked. Masterman learned of it. Fired." 
 Lovett never wasted anything, even words. It 
 was commonly said of him that the only thing 
 he ever spent was the evening. 
 
 "I see," said Jackson. "Is there any one else 
 in Masterman's office that can be reached?" He 
 would not use the word bribe. 
 
 Lovett smirked. 
 
 "I've been quite friendly with the telephone 
 clerk," he answered. "That's the only one I know 
 in that office." 
 
 "H'm. Well, see him. Find out if if any- 
 thing's been lost in the Masterman office. If 
 there was any particular fuss raised about it. Get 
 all the gossip you can. And stop at the cashier's 
 for money. Report as soon as possible." 
 
 When Lovett had left the office Jackson tossed 
 his cigar away in disgust. He had gone danger- 
 ously close to breaking his word when he told 
 Lovett to ask if anything had been lost. Still he 
 had observed the letter of the confidence. Indeed, 
 it might be argued that he had observed its spirit. 
 
 "Anyway, Masterman never fought fair in his
 
 204 PLUNDER 
 
 life," he told himself. "I'm for the people and 
 against him. If I stick to the letter of fairness 
 " So he soothed his conscience. 
 
 Hanrahan, meantime, with a curl of his lips and 
 a shrug of his shoulders, saw Lovett start in the 
 direction of the private office. He was able to 
 guess that the blackmail man was to be used to 
 ferret information from some one near to Mas- 
 terman for he knew by his chief's seriousness 
 that something big was in the air and that he 
 would not be permitted to handle the case alone 
 and glad that his reputation was such that no 
 publisher dared ask him to deviate from the 
 strictest newspaper ethics, he closed his typewriter 
 into his desk and started for the street. An office 
 boy caught him waiting for the elevator. 
 
 "Some one on the phone for you, Mr. Hanra- 
 han. Happened to see you going out and I chased 
 after you. Lady too. Bet she's a queen !" 
 
 He grinned cheerfully at the reporter. Every 
 one loved Tom Hanrahan. 
 
 "I'll bet she is," smiled the reporter, and his 
 change pocket was immediately minus one dime, 
 and the boy was enriched by exactly that sum.
 
 PLUNDER 205 
 
 Hanrahan stepped into the booth the boy indi- 
 cated. 
 
 "Hello? This is Hanrahan." 
 
 "Oh, Tom ! I'm so glad I caught you. This is 
 Jessie." 
 
 "And the top o' the mornin' to ye, Jessie ma- 
 vourneen," he laughed. 
 
 He heard his laugh echoed nervously, as though 
 the girl at the other end of the wire were a little 
 overwrought. 
 
 "Why, what's wrong, Jessie girl?" he asked 
 quickly. 
 
 "Oh, Tom, I'm a bit frightened. I don't know 
 just how to I can't tell you over the phone I 
 don't want to something's happened " 
 
 "Well," gasped Hanrahan, "if that something 
 is happening in fifteen minutes it's liable to get a 
 swift punch on the jaw, for I'm coming up that 
 fast to see you!" 
 
 "Do," she said. And again he caught that note 
 of strain in her voice. 
 
 He started again for the street, this time on the 
 run. If any one had been bothering Jessie Sig- 
 mund It happened that Jessie's parents
 
 206 PLUNDER 
 
 were rather strict and old-fashioned. They loved 
 their daughter and she loved them; but they did 
 not approve of a young woman painting for 
 money. They only tolerated the idea because they 
 loved her too well to make her unhappy by refus- 
 ing their assent to her coming to New York. It 
 also happened that they did not approve of news- 
 paper reporters thought them wild carousing 
 youths. So it further happened that Jessie Sig- 
 mund and Tom Hanrahan kept their engagement 
 very much of a secret, waiting for the day when 
 Tom should become a managing editor, or at least 
 a city editor, before shocking Jessie's folks with 
 the announcement. No wonder Tom hurried! 
 He was closer to-day, he felt, to his goal than 
 ever before. He'd find Mack, become a manag- 
 ing 1 editor and marry Jessie. Meantime, some- 
 thing was bothering his girl. He bumped into a 
 man and knocked him down so great was his 
 hurry to reach the elevated.
 
 XIII 
 
 A MAN should never put love before duty; 
 but inasmuch as it happened that Hanra- 
 han's first place of inquiry for Handsome Harry 
 Mack was a rather low resort not very far from 
 Jessie Sigrnund's apartments, he did not feel that 
 he was neglecting his duty in calling first on her. 
 Moreover, duty is comparative. A man doesn't 
 owe the same duty to his boss that he does to 
 his country. Private business duties may well be 
 set aside in favor of love. Anyway, Tom Hanra- 
 han made a bee-line for the home of Jessie Sig- 
 mund. Arriving there he found her in a state 
 of alarm which, though quite a distance away 
 from hysteria, nevertheless, gave him concern. 
 He put his arm round her, led her to a couch and 
 made her sit down. 
 
 "Now then, Jessie, tell me what's happened to 
 you." 
 
 "It's not happened to me, Tom, it's happened to 
 Kirby." 
 
 207
 
 208 PLUNDER 
 
 "Miss Rowland, the miniature painter ?" 
 
 "Yes, Tom, and I don't understand at all. 
 Th-the telegram, the man watching the 
 house " 
 
 "What's that?" he demanded truculently. 
 "Where?" 
 
 She drew him to the window and pointed at a 
 man lounging with careful carelessness down the 
 street a bit. 
 
 "He's been here this morning, and he asked 
 for Kirby. When I said that she wasn't here 
 he said that she had been here, and if I knew 
 where she was I'd better tell him quick or it 
 would be worse for me. I shut the door in his 
 face, and Tom, I don't understand it." 
 
 Hanrahan cast a menacing glance at the uncon- 
 scious watcher down the street. Then he drew 
 the girl once more to the couch. 
 
 "Now then, Jessie, tell me all about it from 
 the beginning." 
 
 His strength communicated itself to her; his 
 firm clasp steadied her nerves. She even essayed 
 a smile. 
 
 "Maybe I'm making a mountain out of a
 
 "What's that he demanded where ?"
 
 PLUNDER 209 
 
 molehill," she began. "Last night, or rather quite 
 early in the evening, Kirby phoned me. She said 
 that she wanted to spend the night with me. Her 
 voice seemed kind of I don't know, not exactly 
 frightened, but worked up, I guess. I told her 
 to come right over, that I had a dinner-dance 
 engagement, but that I'd gladly break it and stay 
 home if she wished. She said not to do that; 
 merely to leave the key with the elevator boy, 
 which I did. You know, Tom, Kirby is my dear- 
 est girl friend. We studied together, and she'll 
 be bridesmaid at our wedding, if she doesn't do 
 it first then she'll be matron of honor. You 
 haven't met her, for things have always come up 
 to prevent, as you know; but she's the dearest, 
 truest " 
 
 "If you say so, that's guarantee enough," said 
 Tom stoutly. "Go on." 
 
 "Well I left the key and went off. I came 
 back about midnight. I was at the Morrisons' 
 dance, as you know, and Freeland Morrison 
 brought me home. Well, the night boy gave me 
 my key. I was surprised, but supposed that 
 Kirby had decided not to stay, and went to the
 
 2 io PLUNDER 
 
 apartment here. On the table I found a note from 
 Kirby asking me not to say anything about her 
 having been here, and telling me that she'd bor- 
 rowed a suit-case and some things of mine, which 
 she'd return soon. Here's the note." 
 
 She handed it to Tom and he read it, returning 
 it without comment. 
 
 "Well," continued Jessie, "I found a letter on 
 my bureau that I'd forgotten to mail, and I rang 
 for the elevator boy. When he came I gave him 
 the letter, and, out of pure idle curiosity, asked 
 him what time Miss Rowland had left. He re- 
 plied that she and the gentleman had gone out 
 about nine or ten, he couldn't remember just 
 when. He described the 'gentleman,' because I 
 was curious, and it seems to have been Dixon 
 Grant, a young man whom I know only slightly, 
 but who seems to have been paying lots of atten- 
 tion to Kirby lately." 
 
 "You girls don't confide in each other much, 
 for all your chumminess, do you ?" grinned Han- 
 rahan. 
 
 "Well," retorted Jessie, "I can't talk about you 
 without letting people know where my heart is,
 
 PLUNDER 2ii 
 
 and that's a secret, isn't it? Possibly Kirby has 
 her own reasons for not having told me much 
 about Grant. Perhaps he hasn't asked her yet, 
 and she hopes he will girls keep quiet when 
 things are at that stage, you know." 
 
 "All right," he smiled. "What next?" 
 
 "Well, just as I was beginning to wonder if 
 Kirby had eloped with Dixon Grant, and was puz- 
 zled why she should take my clothing and not her 
 own, the bell rang and a man insisted on talking 
 with me. He said that he wanted to know where 
 Kirby was. Not the man outside now, but 
 another one. They both reminded me of police- 
 men, somehow or other " 
 
 Tom whistled softly. 
 
 "Plain-clothes men or private detectives, eh? 
 What did you tell him ?" 
 
 "I told him I knew nothing about her, and got 
 rid of him; but my own curiosity was aroused 
 then, and I lay awake half the night puzzling. 
 And this morning a message came to me from the 
 telegraph office. It said that there had been an 
 error in the transmission of a telegram to me; it 
 said that in the message sent me last night the
 
 212 PLUNDER 
 
 word 'three' had been written instead of 'two/ 
 The corrected message was to the effect that Adele 
 Rohan who's been commissioned to paint the 
 portrait of little Laurel Masterman is going on 
 a camping trip, won't leave Denver for two 
 weeks, and wants me to inform the Mastermans." 
 "Well? I don't get the connection." 
 "You will in a moment," she answered. "I 
 didn't at first, because I had not received the orig- 
 inal telegram. But I had noticed a piece of yel- 
 low paper in the fireplace. I must be a born 
 detective, Tom, or else I've imbibed detection 
 from hearing you talk about some of your stories. 
 I picked that piece of paper out of a little mass 
 of ashes. It was the corner of a message blank. 
 It had not been there when I left the apartment 
 last night, I'm sure, so it's obvious that Kirby re- 
 ceived and opened a message addressed to me. I 
 made it certain by going right to the telegraph 
 office and asking to see the book in which was the 
 signature for the telegram. It was my name, all 
 right, but Kirby's handwriting." 
 
 She paused a moment before continuing.
 
 PLUNDER 213 
 
 "Tom, what on earth does it mean?" 
 
 "You may search me," he answered slowly. 
 "Is Kirby er all there?" 
 
 "The sanest girl I ever knew," she answered 
 indignantly. 
 
 "H'm! Then why on earth should she act so 
 queerly?" 
 
 "That's what I want to find out, Tom. I think 
 a lot of Kirby. I'm worried; I've phoned the 
 Greenwich Studios where she lives, and they tell 
 me there that she is not at home. I don't under- 
 stand it, and Tom, this is a bad city for a girl 
 alone." 
 
 "Seems to me she wasn't alone. Looks as 
 though she had her best-beloved with her, doesn't 
 it?" 
 
 "But not going home; borrowing my clothes; 
 destroying a telegram addressed to me it isn't 
 like Kirby. I don't understand " 
 
 The door-bell rang. Jessie stopped short her 
 speech, smoothed her hair, and opened the door. 
 A messenger boy handed her a telegram. She 
 signed for it and closed the door.
 
 214 PLUNDER 
 
 "Maybe this explains it," she said. She opened 
 the message, and her eyes expressed surprise. 
 
 "It's not from Kirby," she said; "it's from 
 Adele. She announces that she has clianged her 
 mind once again, and will leave Denver to-day; 
 she hopes I have not told the Mastermans that she 
 wouldn't be here." She laughed. "That's the 
 flighty brilliant Adele always. But she is a gen- 
 ius and can afford to do things that poor plodding 
 grubs like myself oh, well, I have you ; let Adele 
 have her genius!" 
 
 She flashed a smile on Tom, but she sobered 
 again at once. 
 
 "Tom, you're the best reporter in New York; 
 the best amateur detective, too, and that means, 
 with all the newspapermen in this town, as good 
 as the best professional. Tell me, can you find 
 Kirby? Can you find out what's happened to 
 her?" 
 
 "I'll try," he said. "Know anything about this 
 Grant?" 
 
 "I've heard her say he was with some brokers. 
 Bryant, Manners & Company, I think." 
 
 "Brokers nothing ! Bucket-shoppers, she means.
 
 PLUNDER 215 
 
 Well, I'll try them." He did, on the telephone, 
 only to learn from the careful telephone clerk 
 cautioned by his employers, as had been his em- 
 ployers by Terence Greenham, against letting slip 
 any information whatsoever as to Mr. Dixon 
 Grant that Mr. Grant was no longer with the 
 firm. 
 
 "Maybe he's lost his job," suggested Hanrahan. 
 "That might have upset Miss Rowland." 
 
 But Jessie shook her head. 
 
 "Kirby has plenty for both, I happen to know," 
 was her objection to this offered solution. "But 
 that isn't all you can do." 
 
 Hanrahan laughed. 
 
 "Indeed not! I'll 'tip off the police and have 
 them keep their eyes " 
 
 "Police!" Jessie was scornful. "Indeed you 
 won't, Tom Hanrahan ! Have the police looking 
 for Kirby Rowland! Absurd! Why, Kirby 
 would never speak to me again. Is that as clever 
 as you are, Tom? For if you can't think of any- 
 thing better than the police or the newspapers 
 look here, Tom, after all, Kirby is of age and 
 probably knows what she is doing. That I am
 
 2i6 PLUNDER 
 
 worried is no reason that her private business 
 should be known to police and public. You prom- 
 ise me that you won't have her name mentioned 
 in the papers, or told to the police, or Tom, I 
 couldn't forgive you if you did." 
 
 "Of course I won't, dear," he promised. "But, 
 as you must see, that limits me. But I'll go to 
 her apartment Greenwich Studios, you said? 
 All right. And don't worry, she's probably O. K. 
 If she isn't well, bad news comes soon enough. 
 Myself, I think that she's eloped with Grant" 
 
 "I hope so," said Jessie fervently. "Then we'd 
 know she was all right. You'll try to find her, 
 though?" 
 
 "I surely will," he said. "And speaking of 
 finding people reminds me that I've got to find 
 some one for the paper and I'm not doing it. 
 Don't worry. By-by, dear." He kissed her and 
 was swiftly gone. 
 
 Comforted by his assurance that he would find 
 Kirby, Jessie went to the mirror, with deft fingers 
 to repair the damage to her coiffure done by his 
 parting embrace, and so did not witness the little 
 drama enacted a few rods down the street. The
 
 PLUNDER 217 
 
 worthy Greenham agent who had relieved the 
 man who had questioned both Jessie and Kirby 
 the previous night this latter had been clever 
 enough to avoid rebuke from his employers by 
 concealing the fact that he had met Kirby face 
 to face; a fact he discovered shortly after the 
 real Miss Sigmund came home leaned against 
 an iron railing, trying to seem as though he were 
 just a simple-minded gentleman taking the air. 
 Hanrahan walked up to him. 
 
 "The air," said the reporter abruptly, "is very 
 bad on this street. Do you grasp my meaning?" 
 
 The man stared. 
 
 "Who you kiddin'?" he demanded. 
 
 "No one," said Hanrahan; "I'm in deadly 
 earnest. To-day you threatened a young lady by 
 the name of Sigmund. You're watching her place 
 now. Undoubtedly you intended to keep an eye 
 on me. You don't need to; here's my card 
 Hanrahan, of the Citizen." 
 
 The man took the card dazedly. 
 
 "What's all this about?" he asked. 
 
 "Just this I want you to beat it. Understand ? 
 Move, vanish, git!"
 
 218 PLUNDER 
 
 "Who you orderin' round?" demanded the de- 
 tective truculently. 
 
 "You," said Hanrahan. "If you aren't on your 
 way in just two seconds, I'm going to hand you 
 something that won't taste a bit nice. Further- 
 more, I'm coming back here later, and if I find 
 you here I'll clean house with you. For your 
 information and edification I'll inform you that 
 when it comes to licking cheap detectives I am 
 the one and only, blown-in-the-bottle, original 
 White Hope. Your two seconds are up. Are 
 you going?" 
 
 "Well, I like your nerve !" began the detective. 
 He didn't speak again for a moment, for Hanra- 
 han's fist colliding with his mouth cut short his 
 words. The reporter bent over the prostrate de- 
 tective. 
 
 "Are you going?" 
 
 "I'll have you pinched," mumbled the man. 
 
 "And I'll get you thirty days for annoying a 
 lady! Are you going?" 
 
 The law is even less kind to annoyers of wom- 
 en than Tom Hanrahan had shown himself. Also 
 it had been impressed upon the Greenham opera-
 
 PLUNDER 219 
 
 lives that secrecy was essential in this present 
 mysterious case. The man shambled off, nursing 
 a bleeding jaw. 
 
 "I'll get you !" he mumbled. "I'll get you yet !" 
 "So will the goblins, if I don't watch out," 
 laughed Hanrahan. He watched the man out of 
 sight, then continued toward the Greenwich 
 Studios. He felt much better. Be he ever so 
 civilized, there is nothing so gratifying to a man 
 as the discovery that he still "packs a punch." 
 Humanity is very human, after all.
 
 XIV 
 
 MOSE, the colored elevator boy at the Green- 
 wich Studios, glared at Tom Hanrahan. 
 
 "What you askin' me questions for ? You an- 
 other one of dem bulls? Believe me, mister, I 
 hopes you chokes if you is. Miss Rowland she 
 had plenty annoyance from you people yesterday, 
 and if I knowed where she was I wouldn't tell 
 you. I just wisht I'd seen dem men lay a hand 
 on her ; I'd just about busted dem. Go long outa 
 here, white man! I got nothin' to say." 
 
 The reporter pulled a bill from his pocket. It 
 had a V on it, and would have been able ordi- 
 narily to purchase the soul of Mose. But not to- 
 day. 
 
 "Put your money away," he growled. "Ain't 
 got nothin' to say; don't know nothin'. And just 
 you listen to me! Miss Rowland, when my wife 
 was sick, she got de doctor and hired de nurse, 
 and what you take me for? Git along, git 
 along!" 
 
 220
 
 PLUNDER 221 
 
 Hanrahan smiled in his friendliest fashion. 
 The most uncommunicative persons had thawed 
 before thai smile, and given the reporter valuable 
 information. The decent clean soul of the man 
 showed in that smile. 
 
 "Look here," said he, "I'm a friend of Miss 
 Rowland. I'm afraid something has happened 
 to her. You talk as though something did hap- 
 pen to her yesterday. What was it ? I give you 
 my word that I'm her friend." 
 
 The colored boy shuffled his feet. 
 
 "Dat sounds all right, boss, and I believe you. 
 But dere's one of 'em up-stairs now, and de owner 
 of dis house give me orders to keep my mouth 
 closed, and you're dead sure you're a friend of 
 Miss Rowland?" 
 
 "Do you know Miss Sigmund?" 
 
 "De lady what's chummy with Miss Rowland ? 
 Sure I do." 
 
 "Call her up and ask her if it's all right to 
 trust me. Hanrahan's my name." 
 
 Mose looked the reporter over. If ever a man 
 looked honest, Hanrahan was the man. 
 
 "I ain't got such a awful lot to tell anyway,"
 
 222 PLUNDER 
 
 said the negro. "What dere is I'll tell you, boss. 
 But I dassent do it here. De man up-stairs might 
 come down and see me, and he'd tell de owner, 
 and de owner would fire me just like dat!" 
 And he snapped his fingers. 
 
 "But I'll be off for de afternoon in ten min- 
 utes. De other boy '11 be here den. You jus' wait 
 round de corner, will you?" 
 
 Considerably puzzled, Hanrahan assented. In 
 less than the specified time Mose met him. 
 
 "Here's what happened," he began. "First, a 
 gemman calls on Miss Rowland. Real swell. He 
 stays about a minute. Then another gemman 
 calls on her. 'Pears like they're ol' friends, and 
 'pears like they ain't. For they both looks in the 
 letter box as though to find out if she lives here, 
 but neither of dem phones up to her first. Jus' 
 tells me to take 'em up. Well, Miss Rowland 
 comes down about two seconds after de second 
 gemman calls. She's in a hurry. About three 
 minutes after dat I hears a banging up-stairs. I 
 shoot de cyar up in time to see de second gem- 
 man comin' through her door, what he'd busted 
 wid a chair. I grab him, but he flashed a badge
 
 PLUNDER 223 
 
 on me, an' I know he's a bull. He outs of the 
 buildin' like a flash, an' I start after him, wonder- 
 in' what's up. But the elevator bell rings, an' I 
 has to go back. , 
 
 "It's five minutes before I'm free to look out, 
 an' den, before I gits to de door, de first gemman 
 and de second gemman an' anodder gemman, 
 dey all comes in. An' de first one de swell 
 gemman an' de third gemman, is all mussed up 
 like dey been scrappin'. And it looks like de first 
 gemman is pinched by de odder two. Well, I'm 
 puzzled by all dis, an' refuses to let 'em go up- 
 stairs. But de owner lives here, you know. Dey 
 ask for him, and dey buzz him in a corner, an' 
 it's all right. I has to take 'em up-stairs. Well, 
 little while passes, and de first gemman and de 
 second gemman comes out arm in arm, but lookin' 
 like de swell one is prisoner of de other. And 
 de third gemman stay in Miss Rowland's apart- 
 ment, and de owner tells me dat if she gets any 
 phone calls to connect de third gemman. She only 
 gits one, and I hears him tell the party what calls 
 dat he's Miss Rowland's brother. Dat call came 
 jus' as I'd taken de two gemmen down-stairs. But
 
 224 PLUNDER 
 
 de gemman what phones he don't come down 
 here, and after a while de gemman up-stairs has 
 a visitor who's up-stairs now been dere all night, 
 takin' de place of de gemman what answered de 
 phone, I guess. He's got a badge, too, for he 
 showed it to me, and says if I talks he'll put me 
 in de cooler for eighty years. 
 
 "An' dat ain't all! For when I gets through 
 las' night de fruit man on de corner tells me what 
 happened in de street. 'Pears dat when Miss 
 Rowland ran outa de building a man grabs her. 
 He's got her by de arm when anodder man jumps 
 on him an' bats his jaw. While dey're scrappin' 
 Miss Rowland ducks through a tenement, and 
 she's gone. Den de second gemman what busted 
 the door open comes down with a gun, and 
 well, dey comes back here, like I tol' you. But 
 dey ain't got Miss Rowland, cuss 'em ! and I hopes 
 dey don't, no matter what she done. I'll bet she 
 ain't done nothin' either, a nice HT lady like her. 
 And dat's all, and for de Lawd's sake, don't tell 
 no one I told you, for I'd lose my job, mister." 
 
 Hanrahan promised. He cross-questioned the 
 boy; got him to describe the three gentlemen.
 
 PLUNDER 225 
 
 Though he did not recognize two of them, he did 
 recognize the "first gemman." For that person 
 wore exactly the clothes, had the same colored 
 hair, and was the same general build as Harry 
 Mack whom he had left at a Tenderloin restaur- 
 ant at one o'clock that morning ! 
 
 Harry Mack! What connection had he with 
 Kirby Rowland? And who were these other 
 two? The description of one of them might fit 
 Terence Greenham; but Mack's raiment had ab- 
 sorbed Mose's attention to the neglect of the other 
 two. If only he could be sure that the others had 
 been Greenham men. But why not be sure? It 
 was not so very long after this fracas, according 
 to the record of Mack's arrest which he had 
 scanned the previous night, that Greenham had 
 brought the crook to headquarters. Could there 
 be anything in Mack's tale of the faked portrait 
 after all ? Miss Rowland was an artist. Was it 
 conceivable that she was in league with Harry 
 Mack to palm off fraudulent Old Masters on un- 
 suspecting financiers, using her knowledge of art 
 in combination with Mack's knowledge of ways 
 that were evil ?
 
 226 PLUNDER 
 
 It seemed a good theory. But Lindley Jack- 
 son had stated positively that the Botticelli was 
 an original! The suddenly evolved theory was 
 smashed to smithereens ! Hanrahan gave the col- 
 ored boy the five-dollar bill and assured him that 
 Miss Rowland was guilty of nothing, and that 
 the people who were pursuing her would land in 
 trouble. Then, cautioning him to say nothing 
 about their talk, if he really were grateful to Miss 
 Rowland for her many kindnesses, he left the boy 
 and started for Village Hall. But neither in that 
 dive, nor in any of a dozen that he visited that 
 afternoon could he find any one who knew of 
 Harry Mack other than by reputation as a big 
 gun. Harry Mack, he decided, though a famous 
 crook, was not the sort who traveled with the 
 cheap gangsters who make up the cream of the 
 city's admitted underworld. Mack went with only 
 the highest-class crooks, and such crooks were 
 more apt to live abroad, preying on their fellow 
 Americans in a foreign land. The Americans on 
 a vacation, or purchasing art works, were the 
 victims of Harry Mack and his kind. 
 
 He soon decided it was hopeless to attempt to
 
 PLUNDER 227 
 
 find Mack in these haunts of the underworld. But 
 in certain hotels of the Tenderloin, at night, a 
 man of Mack's vocation might be reasonably ex- 
 pected to be found, unless he were strictly under 
 cover. Hanrahan returned to his office. It would 
 do no harm to look up Mack in the office files; 
 there might be some record of the man's life there 
 that would tell him who, were his criminal friends, 
 if he had any in the city. And to these Hanrahan 
 could apply for information as to the present ad- 
 dress of the crook. It was his only chance, any- 
 way. There were now two reasons why Mack 
 must be located. He had rescued Kirby Rowland 
 from the Greenhams. Undoubtedly, therefore, 
 he knew where Kirby was. And Kirby was 
 Jessie's friend. On his way down-town to the 
 office Hanrahan reviewed what he had learned. 
 He weighed all of Kirby 's actions as related to 
 him by Jessie. The girl was crazy, or else had a 
 bad character. No question about that. Only a 
 person mentally or morally unsound would have 
 destroyed the telegram addressed to Jessie. And 
 yet Jessie Sigmund was no fool. It didn't seem 
 reasonable that Jessie could have chummed with
 
 228 PLUNDER 
 
 a girl and never even suspected that that girl was 
 not all right in every way. Still, the two hadn't 
 been so intimate in the past few months, and peo- 
 ple change in a mighty short time. 
 
 Puzzling thus he reached the office. He went 
 at once to the morgue and looked up the clippings 
 about Harry Mack. There was a record of 
 Mack's recent arrival in this country and his de- 
 parture therefrom. Also his name was mentioned 
 several times as having been arrested always 
 abroad charged with various offenses of which 
 later, it seemed, he had been proved innocent. 
 But there was nothing to indicate who, if any, 
 were his pals in this country. The reporter de- 
 cided to make a round of the up-town hotels in 
 the hope of locating his man by chance; but as 
 he started to leave the office a boy brought a note 
 to him. 
 
 "Mr. Jackson left this for you. Said he'd be 
 back at midnight gone to some banquet, I think 
 and that even if you didn't have anything, to 
 wait for him." 
 
 "Thanks," said Hanrahan. 
 
 He opened the note. It read :
 
 PLUNDER 229 
 
 "Dear Tom : Sent Lovett out on this Master- 
 man matter. He reports that telephone clerk at 
 M.'s office told him that there was quite a to-do 
 in M.'s office yesterday about some paper that had 
 been lost. Later a woman called up M. Evident- 
 ly a stranger, for she didn't know M.'s private 
 number but called up office. When told M. was 
 busy, as is always done when calls come over 
 listed wires, said to tell M. that she wished to 
 speak about a paper signed by M. and certain 
 other gentlemen. That's all clerk got. None of 
 this is for publication yet! I must observe a 
 confidence. But that confidence applies merely 
 to publication, I take -it. Therefore, get busy. 
 For Lovett also learned that after paper was lost 
 Masterman offered ten thousand to clerk who 
 would recover it. It had blown out a window. 
 Also the Greenhams are busy on the case, as you 
 know. I'm certain this paper has something to 
 do with universal transfers. Take my word for 
 it, but not to be used in your story. But I'm not 
 divulging any confidence in what I'm writing, be- 
 cause what Lovett learned was caused by our put- 
 ting two and one together Masterman and 
 Greenham and Mack. Get hold of Mack if you 
 haven't done so already. If we can make him 
 talk I think we've got the biggest story of the 
 decade. JACKSON." 
 
 Hanrahan leaned back in his chair and thought 
 over the situation. A woman had called up Mas- 
 terman in words that might be construed to hold
 
 230 PLUNDER 
 
 a threat. Later the Greenhams 'tried to arrest a 
 woman, but she was rescued by Harry Mack. 
 Later Greenham, after a conference with Master- 
 man, went to police headquarters and released 
 Mack. Mack was then followed until he, Han- 
 rahan, aided him to elude his pursuers. What 
 was the answer ? 
 
 The answer was this, clear as day: In some 
 scheme that affected the Masterman interests, 
 Kirby Rowland and Harry Mack were partners. 
 Kirby had fled to Jessie's for refuge, not daring 
 to return to her own studio. Then Dixon Grant 
 had located her, and they had decided to seek 
 some safer spot. That was clear. Suddenly 
 Hanrahan thought of the burned telegram of 
 whose existence Jessie had learned only by acci- 
 dent. Why had Kirby done this ? What possible 
 reason could she have for withholding from Jessie 
 the information contained in the telegram ? And 
 then, lightning-like, came the answer to that. 
 
 Kirby Rowland was not withholding informa- 
 tion from Jessie nearly so much as she was with- 
 holding it from Masterman! Another link; an-
 
 PLUNDER 231 
 
 other evidence that Miss Rowland was inimical 
 to the financier. But what petty spirit actuated 
 her enmity? Why hide from the financier infor- 
 mation about such a trifle? But was it a trifle? 
 Kirby Rowland was an artist. It seemed certain 
 that, with Harry Mack, she was scheming some- 
 thing inimical to the Masterman interests; also 
 that the Masterman agents knew of her part in the 
 plot against their employer, were seeking her, and 
 she had chosen a hiding-place where Masterman 
 would never look for her in the Masterman 
 house itself, impersonating Adele Rohan! 
 
 It was clever reasoning and it held no flaw! 
 Straight up to the Masterman mansion he would 
 
 go, ask for Miss Adele Rohan But Jessie 
 
 had insisted that what she had told him was for 
 his earsalone. Without her first aid he could never 
 have deduced what he had. It was up to him to 
 see Jessie first, explain as much as he could 
 hang confidences anyway ! He and Jackson were 
 tied up with them! However, he could explain 
 to Jessie all that he had learned, and she would, 
 of course, tell him to go to Kirby. But he must
 
 232 PLUNDER 
 
 see her first! He must play absolutely fair with 
 the girl he loved. He jammed his hat on his head 
 and started for the door. 
 
 "Oh, Tom!" 
 
 It was Lyden, the city editor, calling. 
 
 "In an awful rush, Boss! Chief has me work- 
 ing on a special assignment " 
 
 "Well, stick around a second," grinned Lyden. 
 "The business office thought there might be a 
 story in this 'ad,' and they're stalling the man 
 down-stairs until I get a slant at it and send some 
 one down. Read it." 
 
 "Oh, all right," snapped Hanrahan. He 
 grabbed the "personal" which had been handed in 
 at the business office, and which that department 
 had promptly rushed up-stairs by automatic tube. 
 This was the advertisement: 
 
 "K. R. and D. G. If don't hear from you bjt 
 Thursday at six p. M. will tell all to newspapers. 
 Address this office. H. M." 
 
 The name of Kirby Rowland was buzzing in 
 Hanrahan's brain. Almost unconsciously he fitted 
 it to the first initials. Having done that it was
 
 PLUNDER 233 
 
 obvious that he should fit Dixon Grant and Harry 
 Mack to the other initials. He crumpled the paper 
 in his fingers and ran for the door. 
 
 "I'll tend to this, Lyden," he called over his 
 shoulder, and the city editor, amazed, watched 
 him disappear through the door, and heard him 
 wildly ordering the elevator boy to return and 
 get him. 
 
 Harry Mack was in the business office down- 
 stairs, wondering why newspapers were so fussy 
 about accepting advertisements, when Hanrahan 
 touched him on the shoulder. He wheeled, to 
 meet a smile. 
 
 "Nice work last night, Mack. You fooled me 
 to the queen's taste. However, I got a readable 
 yarn, even if it wasn't true. But now I want a 
 more readable yarn that is true. I want you to 
 tell me just what your little game is; what you've 
 been trying to do to Masterman; and how Miss 
 Kirby Rowland figures in it ? Going to talk ?" 
 
 Over the face of Handsome Harry spread a 
 smile of admiration. 
 
 "Hanrahan, you certainly are there ! How on 
 earth sure, I'll talk. I'm always willing to talk
 
 234 PLUNDER 
 
 when the game is up. I know when I'm licked. 
 Will your paper treat me right?" 
 
 "Have to ask the boss about that," said Hanra- 
 han, elated at his easy victory, "but he's always 
 mighty generous to whoever hands the paper a 
 tip. Spill it" 
 
 "It's a long story. Let's go somewhere and 
 sit down," suggested Mack. 
 
 "All right," agreed the reporter. "Right across 
 the street is a good place." 
 
 He led the way to a well-known resort of the 
 down-town thirsty. They sat down in a booth and 
 ordered highballs, for which Mack insisted on 
 paying. 
 
 "Now, then," said the international crook, "how 
 much do you know? Ask me questions if you 
 like; that's the quickest way." 
 
 "How much do I know?" echoed Hanrahan. 
 "Well, I know that you and Miss Rowland have 
 some club you're holding over Masterman's head. 
 I know that you rescued her from the Greenhams 
 yesterday ; I know that she's shaken you, she and 
 Dixon Grant am I right ? Yes and that you're 
 threatening to tell all unless they communicate
 
 PLUNDER 235 
 
 with you at this office. I know and this is no 
 breach of confidence, Mack, though I learned it 
 in confidence, for you know it yourself that 
 Masterman lost a paper which you evidently have 
 found. Judging by your 'ad/ I should say that 
 Miss Rowland has double-crossed you in some 
 way. Now then, talk." 
 
 "You know a lot," commented Mack admiring- 
 ly. "You're certainly one clever newspaperman! 
 I suppose you even know where Miss Rowland 
 is now?" 
 
 Despite himself he could not keep his eagerness 
 out of his tones ; and Hanrahan felt that if he told 
 Mack where he believed Kirby Rowland to be he 
 would get no information from the crook. He 
 had no reason for thinking this, but instinct is 
 sometimes stronger than reason. Somehow he 
 felt certain that Mack's complaisance was a blind ; 
 that perhaps the international crook was not 
 quite so ready to tell everything as he appeared 
 to be. 
 
 "Would I be asking you questions if I could 
 locate Miss Rowland and ask her? She'd be 
 easier than you, Mack."
 
 236 PLUNDER 
 
 "Maybe," said Mack grimly. "Then that's all 
 you know ?" 
 
 "All I intend telling you," smiled Hanrahan. 
 
 "Then I guess I haven't any conversation to 
 waste on you," said Mack. 
 
 He pushed back his chair as though to leave. 
 Hanrahan smiled. A mighty good poker player 
 was Tom Hanrahan, as his fellows on the Citizen 
 would vouch. 
 
 "So? Very well, then. How's it going to 
 affect your game when I publish in the morning's 
 Citizen that the paper lost by Masterman is a 
 signed agreement between Masterman and - 
 
 It was a most artistic pause ; a wonderful bluff. 
 It worked. The face of Mack went dead white. 
 Then he forced his lips to curl a smile. 
 
 "You win, I guess. If I tell the whole story I 
 get something, eh?" 
 
 "A generous something," promised Hanrahan. 
 
 "And my name won't come out? You won't 
 tell a soul who gave it to you? But how can I 
 be sure? Other people know now in your office, 
 and they may give me away."
 
 PLUNDER 237 
 
 "Not a soul knows what I do about the matter," 
 said Hanrahan eagerly. 
 
 A faint flicker showed in Mack's eyes. He was 
 a good poker player, too. 
 
 "That right? Well, drink up! Here's success 
 to me in my line and to you in your line." He 
 held out his glass and Hanrahan permitted his 
 own to touch it. There was an almost invisible 
 flick of Handsome Harry's little finger. 
 
 "How!" said the international crook. 
 
 They drank. Hanrahan turned pale; he man- 
 aged to place his glass back on the table, but that 
 was all. He slid from his chair to the floor. 
 Handsome Harry Mack smiled. 
 
 "There's one guy that's honest; you can tell it 
 in his eyes. He said no one knew about the stuff 
 he mentioned but himself; he said no one would 
 learn about my part in it. Well, I guess he told 
 the truth in the first part of that; I'm dead cer- 
 tain about the last part. For he won't talk to 
 any one for a while yet." 
 
 Quietly he left the booth. No one noticed that 
 he left his companion lying on the floor. Hanra-
 
 238 PLUNDER 
 
 ban was not discovered for fifteen minutes, and 
 by that time Handsome Harry Mack was far from 
 Park Row.
 
 XV 
 
 MRS. MASTERMAN stood timidly on the 
 threshold. Kirby dug at her eyes with her 
 small fists and yawned. Then she sat bolt up- 
 right in bed and stared at the unfamiliar sur- 
 roundings. She swept windows, walls, table and 
 bureau with an uncomprehending eye. When she 
 saw Mrs. Masterman she remembered. She 
 smiled, and the nervousness and timidity of the 
 financier's wife melted away before the charm of 
 those curved lips and crinkled eyes. She advanced 
 boldly into the room. 
 
 "Well, my dear, I was a little afraid. I thought 
 you'd be angry at my slipping in here ; but a girl 
 who smiles like that isn't one to be afraid of, is 
 she?" 
 
 Kirby's smile deepened. 
 
 "I don't think I'm very awesome," she con- 
 fessed. 
 
 "You didn't look it as you lay there sleeping," 
 
 239
 
 240 PLUNDER 
 
 said Mrs. Masterman. Her eyes clouded with 
 tears. "You looked so like our first child, the 
 one that we lost when she was sixteen, that 
 Did you rest well? Did I wake you up? I hope 
 not But Laurel is wild to see the lady who's to 
 paint her, and I was as quiet as possible 
 
 "Waked up of my own sweet will," laughed 
 Kirby. "And now I'll get up." 
 
 Mrs. Masterman backed away. 
 
 "Will you breakfast here? Or would you care 
 to join Laurel in the breakfast room? She isn't 
 well, and she doesn't rise so early as my husband 
 or myself. It would give you a chance to begin 
 studying her, and " 
 
 "I'd be delighted," said Kirby. "In half an 
 hour." 
 
 And in just that time, radiant from her toilet, 
 Kirby entered the breakfast room, where the ner- 
 vous wife of the master of transportation, whose 
 health had been wrecked by giving birth to a child 
 in middle life, and whose child was as delicate as 
 the plant for which she was named was not, await- 
 ed her. The introductions were speedily accom- 
 plished, and Laurel Masterman, a gentle little girl
 
 "I thought you'd be angry at my slipping in here"
 
 PLUNDER 441 
 
 of an exquisite beauty rendered pathetic by its 
 delicacy, gave her heart at once to the brown- 
 haired painter. Indeed, before the breakfast was 
 half over she announced that she loved Miss 
 Rohan, and that the artist must write her name in 
 the little girl's birthday book. 
 
 Only the feeling that the end justified the 
 means, and that the work in which she was en- 
 gaged, to which she had dedicated herself, as it 
 were, held so tremendous a good as to condone a 
 little bad, forced Kirby to inscribe the name of 
 Adele Rohan in the book. And as she did so, she 
 prayed fervently that the Mastermans did not, by 
 any mishap, know the age of Adele Rohan. For 
 Kirby had written the other woman's name on the 
 page given over to March sixteenth, her own 
 birthday, and gave the date of her own birth. 
 
 "And it isn't just for show I won't forget 
 you," promised Laurel. 
 
 At which Kirby tried to smile, but would have 
 found it easier to weep. For, cruel though Mas- 
 terman was, his wife and daughter were gentle. 
 It was necessary for Kirby to conjure up an 
 image of the tough little messenger boy of the
 
 242 PLUNDER 
 
 previous evening, to remember the conditions 
 which poverty created, and which bred hundreds 
 of thousands, boys and girls, like that little tough, 
 to corrupt the generations unborn. It was hard 
 to have to strike at Mrs. Masterman, gentle, 
 thoughtful, considerate; it was hard to launch a 
 blow that would in any way at all injure little 
 Laurel. Only the thought of what she believed 
 to be the greater good, in whose accomplishment 
 the innocent must suffer, prevented Kirby from 
 seeking immediate excuses for withdrawal from 
 her great plan. 
 
 It had been easy to picture Masterman as a 
 sort of human devil grinding down the poor. But 
 the way in which his little girl spoke of him, lov- 
 ingly, tenderly, the pride and affection evidenced 
 by Mrs. Masterman every time she mentioned his 
 name these created another Masterman, a hus- 
 band and father, tender, true and strong. And 
 if an hour of conversation with the wife and 
 daughter of the man whom she sincerely believed 
 to be the worst enemy to enlightened progress in 
 the world could make her resolution waver, what 
 would two weeks do ? She must steel her heart ;
 
 PLUNDER 243 
 
 she must nerve herself to go ahead with what she 
 had planned. 
 
 "And though ignorant and jealous people try 
 to decry him, he's one of the greatest men that 
 ever lived," Mrs. Masterman was saying. "Think 
 what he's done for the country; how he's labored 
 that transportation might be better, that business 
 might be combined, that waste might be avoided. 
 And how generous ! Millions he's given to differ- 
 ent charities and institutions of learning. And 
 to-day why, he's caused his road to issue uni- 
 versal transfers! I shouldn't wonder if the city 
 lines all over the country were forced to follow 
 his lead. It's a great thing. The papers would 
 you like to see what they say about him?" 
 
 Kirby would ; and a servant brought sheaves of 
 the morning editions. She glanced at them all, 
 and learned enough to know that Martin Master- 
 man, by many editors at least, was considered a 
 great public benefactor. The public would prob- 
 ably praise Masterman. She hid a smile as she 
 thought of how unwelcome all this praise must be 
 to Masterman ; how at this moment his detectives 
 were scouring the city for her, who had forced
 
 *44 PLUNDER 
 
 him to pose as a public benefactor. She read the 
 Citizen, and smiled again to see how far astray 
 the shrewd reasoning of Jackson was. But it 
 gave her food for thought She must be careful 
 not to give Masterman a chance further to enrich 
 himself by short selling. He'd not had opportu- 
 nity to do it this time, but he might next. And 
 now she asked herself what her next demand 
 should be. Whatever it might be, it must be made 
 quickly. She had eluded the financier's detec- 
 tives, but Adele Rohan would be here in a few 
 weeks. Before that time she must have com- 
 pelled the financier to do many things. 
 
 A servant entered. 
 
 "A telephone for Miss Rohan." 
 
 She followed him to the hall, where, in a little 
 room partitioned off for privacy, was the tele- 
 phone. 
 
 "Miss Rohan?" It was Grant's voice. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 She could almost hear him sigh with relief. 
 
 "All right?" 
 
 "All right. And you?" 
 
 "Same here. When can I see you?"
 
 PLUNDER 245 
 
 She thought a moment. 
 
 "I'll have to do some shopping. The art de- 
 partment of Lacy's in an hour. And be careful," 
 she added softly. 
 
 "I understand. Good-by." 
 
 He rang off. Trembling a little, Kirby re- 
 joined Mrs. Masterman and Laurel in the break- 
 fast room. 
 
 "Your friends, I suppose, will make so many 
 demands upon you," said Mrs. Masterman with 
 a tinge of regret in her voice, "that I don't sup- 
 pose we'll see much of you outside of business 
 hours?" 
 
 "And I want Miss Rohan lots," announced 
 Laurel. "I want her to begin painting me to- 
 day." 
 
 "Oh, but I didn't bring anything with me," 
 smiled Kirby. "I have to shop for brushes, pal- 
 ettes, paints " 
 
 "When you accepted my husband's offer he 
 commissioned an art dealer to turn the playroom 
 into a studio," said Mrs. Masterman. "There is 
 everything there everything an artist could pos- 
 sibly need. My husband said so."
 
 246 PLUNDER 
 
 "That was kind of him," said Kirby. "But 
 still, you don't understand artists, I'm afraid, Mrs. 
 Masterman. Not my kind of an artist, anyway. 
 Before I paint a portrait I must study my subject; 
 it's character, not mere feature, that I try to place 
 on the canvas. I won't start painting for several 
 days." 
 
 "Oh," said Laurel disappointedly. "But you're 
 going to study me? How lovely! And I'll be my 
 goodest good for you. Won't you come now and 
 see the studio?" 
 
 Kirby naturally was in a fever of impatience 
 to see Dick. Finally she convinced the mother 
 and daughter, against their reluctant wills, that 
 she was not only in lack of certain things which 
 she could not permit their courtesy to supply, but 
 was also a bit worn out. 
 
 "Of course! Three days on a train. You 
 simply mustn't work for several days." 
 
 She ordered a car for the girl, and shortly be- 
 fore the time agreed upon, Kirby entered the art 
 department of Lacy's. She had refused the prof- 
 fered services of Mrs. Masterman's maid, and so 
 was alone. Dick was waiting for her. Their
 
 PLUNDER 247 
 
 hands met, and they sat down on a seat near the 
 door. 
 
 "Well," he asked excitedly, "have you seen the 
 papers?" 
 
 "I have. We've won!" 
 
 "The first battle. And you're perfectly safe, 
 you feel?" 
 
 "So safe that I'm ashamed! Dick, it doesn't 
 seem fair or right ! Mrs. Masterman and her dear 
 little girl why should we have to strike the in- 
 nocent with the guilty?" 
 
 He smiled. 
 
 "I hardly think we'll deprive them of a single 
 automobile, Kirby. We aren't going to make 
 Masterman restore his fortune to the people, you 
 know. We're simply going to cinch things so that 
 other fortunes like his can't spring into existence 
 again. What's the matter weakening?" 
 
 "Not at all," she answered ; "but I hate deceit. 
 And I'm playing a deceitful part, that's all. 
 But still where did you spend the night, Dick?" 
 
 "A hotel off the Square. Easy for me, hard 
 for you. You're certain that there's no suspicion? 
 You haven't been followed?"
 
 248 PLUNDER 
 
 "That's why I hate it. They accept me so 
 trustfully for what I profess to be." 
 
 "Has Masterman seen you?" 
 
 "Not yet; but he's to dine at home to-night, 
 and but I'm not afraid of him. It's the deceiv- 
 ing his wife, poor, nervous little woman. And 
 his daughter ; I almost love her already, Dick. To 
 think that she'll learn " Her mouth hard- 
 ened. "War isn't a path of roses, is it? But we 
 must decide what to do next? I don't know 
 enough about conditions. I can see things that 
 are wrong and should be righted, but I want to 
 right them right! Have you made any plans?" 
 
 "You haven't commented on my haggard ap- 
 pearance," he said aggrievedly. 
 
 "You are tired," she said quickly. "Poor 
 Dick!" She squeezed his hand surreptitiously, 
 and a smile chased away the lines of weariness 
 on his face. 
 
 "Perfectly well now," he said. "Planned? 
 Well, rather! I've been up all night planning. 
 I'm more eager than you know, I fear, Kirby. 
 Do you realize, girl ? Yesterday we were excited. 
 We said and did things in a haphazard fashion.
 
 PLUNDER 249 
 
 But now I've a night of thought behind me, a 
 night of planning, a night of work! Kirby, we're 
 going to make Masterman, Blaisdell, Cardigan, 
 and those allied with them, restore to the people 
 that which they have taken. We've begun a little 
 on transportation ; we'll go further. And we'll 
 start on foodstuffs; on coal. Listen!" 
 
 He drew a piece of foolscap from his pocket. 
 
 "Typewrote it in a hotel before you were up,' f 
 he said. "Here are the demands we make of 
 Masterman. First, a flat passenger rate of one 
 cent a mile on every road he controls. Of course 
 where commutation tickets are less than that, the 
 commutation rate to stand. A" reduction of twen- 
 ty-five per cent, on every freight schedule. An in- 
 crease of wages of thirty per cent, to every man 
 employed on those railroads. That will do for 
 Masterman for the present. 
 
 "Cardigan ! Coal to be reduced to four dollars 
 a ton to the householder at once! Wages in 
 the mines to be increased one hundred per cent. 
 at once! 
 
 "Blaisdell ! The price of all meats and of other 
 foodstuffs prepared by concerns under his control
 
 250 PLUNDER 
 
 to be reduced one-half. Wages paid by him to be 
 increased forty per cent. at once! There, what 
 do you think of that?" 
 
 She frowned. 
 
 "Isn't it a bit too radical, Dick ? Won't their 
 businesses fail?" 
 
 "Exactly! And then the government can buy 
 them in. The government isn't going to have its 
 eyes closed while these things are happening. The 
 government will step in when these great concerns 
 show signs of bankruptcy. We'll give the gov- 
 ernment the tip; we'll Kirby, a government is 
 as successful as its citizens, and no more so. And 
 a government can't be successful when its citizens 
 are hungry, illy clothed, badly housed, as hun- 
 dreds of thousands are to-day in this country. 
 We're going to make anew this country. We've 
 started already. Early this morning I mailed this 
 list of first things to Masterman ; this is a carbon 
 I have here. I gave him forty-eight hours in 
 which to put these plans into effect. If he 
 doesn't " 
 
 "Dick, would we really, do you think, publish 
 this paper?"
 
 PLUNDER 251 
 
 "I haven't thought of that contingency," he 
 said. "The rich are cowards ; wealth makes them 
 so. Fear of what we can do will drive Master- 
 man and his gang. Kirby, we've won! For as 
 soon as these things go into effect, the war is over. 
 Masterman and his crowd will never go back to 
 the old order. The people will never let them." 
 
 "But you gave them forty-eight hours. The 
 Citizen this morning claims that Masterman has 
 been selling short. You and I know differently: 
 but can't they sell short now and reap colossal 
 profits?" 
 
 "It's too big a thing," said Dick. "If the stock- 
 holders of all -the concerns to be affected by our 
 demands learned that Masterman and his asso- 
 ciates had been selling short, they would think the 
 whole change a mere gambler's trick and murder 
 would follow. It surely would, Kirby, and Mas- 
 terman has sense enough to know it. He'll take 
 no chances of that. He would dare trim a thou- 
 sand people, twenty thousand, but not half a mil- 
 lion. He'll reap no profit." 
 
 She rose. 
 
 "You'll call me up on the telephone each day,
 
 252 PLUNDER 
 
 Dick? And how long will I have to play this 
 hateful part?" 
 
 "A couple of days, that's all. It's only that 
 you may be safe. For, Kirby, if you are found 
 and your safety threatened, I'd give up the whole 
 business." 
 
 "And I, too," she confessed. "It's wrong to 
 place one above the many, but that's love, isn't it, 
 Dick?" 
 
 "It surely is with me, at any rate," he told 
 her. "But the whole thing will be over soon. 
 Then with Masterman involved so that he can not 
 retreat, we won't care if he knows our identity." 
 
 "I will," said Kirby. "His wife and child- 
 oh, well, good-by, Dick. And phone me." 
 
 There was not even opportunity for a stolen 
 kiss. They dared not be seen on the street to- 
 gether. They were not really safe even here. 
 Some one might see them. Some Greenham op- 
 erative might be buying a present for his wife. 
 They separated and went in opposite directions. 
 
 Down-town Martin Masterman, Cardigan and 
 Blaisdell looked into the grinning face of ruin.
 
 XVI 
 
 MARTIN MASTERMAN had but one pas- 
 sion that was his invalid daughter. 
 Power, place and fortune, these were not passions 
 they were a disease with him. For Laurel he 
 would have faced poverty cheerfully. No man 
 is wholly bad, and Masterman, unmoral rather 
 than immoral, hard, cruel, grasping, had his soft 
 spot. If any doctor could have convinced him 
 that it lay in his power to heal the little girl, and 
 had demanded therefor all of Masterman's for- 
 tune, Masterman would have given it. 
 
 Laurel dined seldom with her parents once or 
 twice a week at the outside. When she did it was 
 an event, planned a couple of days in advance, 
 and Masterman allowed nothing to prevent his 
 attending the function. The day following the 
 loss of the fateful paper he left Cardigan and 
 Blaisdell at five o'clock to keep his engagement 
 to dine at home. What good did it do them to 
 
 253
 
 254 PLUNDER 
 
 sit and brood? The Greenhams were doing the 
 best they could and the Greenhams were the best 
 detectives in the business. If the Greenhams 
 couldn't find the girl and young man who had 
 procured the paper from Harry Mack well, no 
 one could find them. 
 
 "And if they don't," Blaisdell had piped, in 
 reply to this summing up of the situation by Mas- 
 terman, "what then?" 
 
 "Then," said Masterman heavily, "we confess 
 defeat and do as this pair of precious maniacs de- 
 mand." 
 
 "That means ruin !" cried Blaisdell. 
 
 "And our refusal means the same thing, doesn't 
 it?" 
 
 There the argument had ended, to be succeeded 
 by futile worryings. There was nothing to be 
 done, except hope that the Greenhams would suc- 
 ceed in finding the possessors of the paper and 
 wresting it from them. And the Greenhams were 
 working as they had never worked before, for 
 Martin Masterman had held before the two 
 brothers the promise of a reward which would 
 lift them at once into the wealthy class. They
 
 PLUNDER 255 
 
 were combing the city. The three millionaires 
 could do nothing save irritate one another. So 
 Masterman went home. 
 
 Kirby dreaded the meeting with Masterman. 
 She had pictured him as some all-devouring ogre 
 whose baleful glance alone was enough to wither 
 and shrivel ordinary humans. Instead, she met 
 a grim-faced old man, deeper-lined of face, and 
 more burning of eye than any one she had ever 
 met. The events of the day, Kirby could see, 
 were telling on him, but she noted the effect mere- 
 ly because she knew the cause. To his wife and 
 to his daughter he seemed the same gentle hus- 
 band and father he had always been, for they 
 knew only his soft side. Mrs. Masterman was ab- 
 solutely convinced that her husband had never 
 done a wrong thing in his life, but that he was 
 the victim of jealousy. She believed none of the 
 attacks made against him. Her faith was su- 
 preme. 
 
 The dinner passed pleasantly. Masterman, 
 on being introduced to "Miss Rohan," had given 
 her one moment of fright. On hearing her voice 
 he had raised his eyebrows faintly.
 
 256 PLUNDER 
 
 "Your voice is vaguely familiar, Miss Rohan. 
 Have I ever heard it before?" 
 
 "Possibly," said Kirby, with a flash of her 
 teeth, "but I do not know where." 
 
 "My imagination probably," said Masterman. 
 Then he spoke to her of Paris, of Colorado, com- 
 plimented her on her work, asked what sort of 
 portrait she planned to paint of Laurel, and other 
 conventional questions. But mostly he devoted 
 himself to his little daughter, causing Kirby to 
 wonder at the many-sidedness of human nature. 
 Here was a man whose every business action 
 tended to reduce the opportunities in life of mil- 
 lions of children. Yet he loved his own daugh- 
 ter above everything else. Though in his busi- 
 ness life he was relentless in pursuit of power 
 to the exclusion of aught else, yet at home his 
 every smile, his every look, his every caress 
 showed that he was as human as other fathers. 
 Why, then, this cruelty toward the world? 
 
 She began to understand: Masterman recog- 
 nized nothing save family. Community, nation, 
 world, these were less than nothing to him ! Only 
 his family counted where tenderness and gener-
 
 PLUNDER 257 
 
 osity were concerned. Like the caveman, he 
 protected his own, cherished them, but with all 
 others he was at war. The family was his unit 
 and his whole! This was the explanation. He 
 had the caveman's attitude toward the world, and 
 like the caveman had been outgrown by the rest 
 of the world, passed in the race of civilization. 
 Kirby told herself that though the innocent suf- 
 fer with the guilty, it is the greater good that 
 counts. So she steeled her heart once more. 
 
 The meal passed. Laurel, clinging to her fa- 
 ther's hand, insisted that he see her birthday 
 book. 
 
 "I've four more names in it since you saw it 
 last, daddy," she said. "You must seem them." 
 
 He assented, and she sped away to her own 
 room to fetch the volume. 
 
 "You are going to give me your best efforts?" 
 queried Masterman, while his daughter was 
 away. "Miss Rohan, no one, not even her 
 mother, understands my little girl as I do. She 
 has the soul of Joan of Arc! You have seen 
 her; you know she is lovely; there is no doubt of 
 your technical skill; you can reproduce her fea-
 
 258 PLUNDER 
 
 tures. But so can a thousand other artists. I 
 obtained your services for two reasons: One is 
 because you are a fair and just woman. How 
 do I know? I am somewhat of a connoisseur, 
 Miss Rohan, despite that lying tale about my Bot- 
 ticelli in this morning's Citizen. I can read be- 
 tween the strokes of the brush even as one may 
 sometimes read between the lines of a story or 
 letter. I saw your portrait of Senora Davost, 
 the Spanish dancer. That woman is a bad wom- 
 an, and a woman like you," and he bowed, 
 "would recognize and despise her in spite of her 
 charm and good looks. And yet, in your por- 
 trait, while you do not hide the evil that is in 
 her, while you bring it out upon the canvas with 
 a soul analysis that is almost uncanny, you do 
 not stop there. You also bring out the traits of 
 generosity, of impulsive nobility that are in her 
 soul. I read them in your painting, and I ad- 
 mired you. For it is not every woman, nor yet 
 every man, that can be absolutely fair. And you 
 were, when it was not necessary, for all the 
 senora wanted was a portrait of herself, showing 
 her hair, complexion and figure, eyes and teeth.
 
 PLUNDER 259 
 
 But you painted her as the Book of Judgment 
 must have her recorded. 
 
 "That is one of the reasons why I want you to 
 paint my daughter because you will accord her 
 her spiritual due. The other reason is really 
 part of the first because you have genius. So 
 then, Miss Rohan, you will paint, not the daugh- 
 ter of Martin Masterman, but a little girl named 
 Laurel. For genius and a sense of fairness 
 mean no compromise with yourself. Other art- 
 ists have painted Laurel they have made a doll 
 of her, because they thought to flatter my pride 
 in her. But you will give me her soul on canvas, 
 and when she is gone for she is not here for 
 long, Miss Rohan I shall have my child, not a 
 painted image of her, to look upon." 
 
 Kirby, swept away by the man's emotion, 
 touched him on the arm: 
 
 "Oh, Mr. Masterman, if you feel that way 
 about her, I think " 
 
 But a smile, not directed at her, cut short the 
 words that would have inevitably caused suspic- 
 ion. Masterman had caught sight of Laurel re- 
 turning.
 
 260 PLUNDER 
 
 "Here it is, daddy. Here's the book." 
 
 They were in Masterman's library now. Mas- 
 terman was seated in a heavy armchair. Oppo- 
 site him sat his sad-eyed, nervous wife. Laurel 
 drew the book away as her father reached for it. 
 
 "Get out your pen first, daddy," she com- 
 manded. She looked at Kirby. "I give my 
 presents to those whose names are written here," 
 she announced proudly. "But little girls don't 
 always know what grown-ups want, so daddy 
 gets something else for them always. He 
 never forgets!" 
 
 "You see, Miss Rohan" the financier's smile 
 left his daughter to rest on Kirby a moment 
 "those whom my daughter loves must pay the 
 price. They must accept the regard of Laurel's 
 father, unwelcome though it may be." 
 
 "As if any one isn't proud to have you love 
 them, daddy," exclaimed Laurel indignantly. 
 
 There was incredulity in the whimsical smile 
 which the financier turned on Kirby. 
 
 "When the important person feels this way 
 I don't suppose it should matter about the rest 
 of the world," he said.
 
 PLUNDER 261 
 
 Then he opened the book. Laurel's hand 
 guided his. They found the first of the names, 
 the second, the third and the fourth Adele 
 Rohan's. Carefully Masterman had written 
 down the names of the three. At the name 
 which Kirby had written he found difficulty with 
 his fountain pen. 
 
 "All out of ink," he said with a smile. "I'll 
 have to get another." 
 
 He rose and walked into the little workroom 
 which adjoined his library. Kirby stared after 
 him, wide-eyed with apprehension. "Conscience 
 doth make cowards of us all!" 
 
 Not by the flicker of an eyelash had Master- 
 man shown any emotion on seeing the signature 
 of Adele Rohan. It was merely a coincidence 
 that his pen should have run dry at the very 
 moment it devolved upon it to transcribe the name 
 of the Western-Parisian artist. It did not mean 
 that Masterman knew the chirography of Miss 
 Rohan, and, therefore, realized that an impostor 
 was sitting in his library. Yet, though it was 
 the merest coincidence, Kirby's muscles grew 
 tense, and her brain was suddenly as alert as
 
 262 PLUNDER 
 
 though pricked with needles. But she relaxed at 
 Masterman's speedy return. He had another 
 pen in his hand and his countenance was alight 
 with that tenderness which she knew he reserved 
 for his daughter. 
 
 "Now for Miss Rohan's name and birthday," 
 he laughed. 
 
 He worked sidewise into the chair on whose 
 arm Laurel was still perched. With her arm 
 about his neck, and her cheek close to his, while 
 she watched the operation, he wrote the name of 
 Adele Rohan in the little note-book which seemed 
 wholly devoted to the uses to which it was being 
 put to-night. He closed the little book, placed it 
 in an inside pocket, swung Laurel into the air 
 and set her gently on the ground. 
 
 "And now to work," he said. "Daddy has a 
 hundred and one things to do, so shoo-ooh !" 
 
 He waved her from the room laughingly, and 
 she responded to his mirth. 
 
 "But Miss Rohan must stay with me till bed- 
 time," she said, grasping Kirby by the hand. 
 
 "Miss Rohan may want to read or write let- 
 ters," suggested Mrs. Masterman, "or perhaps
 
 PLUNDER 263 
 
 she would like to call upon some of her friends in 
 the city." 
 
 That a young lady, unattended, should go out 
 at night to pay calls was contrary to Mrs. Master- 
 man's idea of the conventions; but artists, espe- 
 cially women artists, even when as charming and 
 well-mannered as Miss Rohan, were apt to be un- 
 conventional. 
 
 But Kirby shook her head. 
 
 "I'd rather play with a certain dear little girl I 
 know than do anything else," she said. 
 
 "Then by all means do what you'd rather do," 
 said Masterman, wkh a genial smile. 
 
 But the benignity left his eye the moment that 
 Kirby, hand in hand with Laurel and followed by 
 Mrs. Masterman, left the room. He strode to 
 the table, picked up the birthday book which 
 Laurel, with the inconsequence of childhood, had 
 left behind her, and carried it into his workroom. 
 He placed the book upon a small table upon which 
 was already an unfolded letter. The letter was 
 dated Denver and was signed by Adele Rohan. 
 Kirby's belief that Masterman and the girl she 
 was impersonating had never met had been cor-
 
 264 PLUNDER 
 
 rect, but she had not thought upon the fact that 
 they must have corresponded. 
 
 Swiftly Masterman compared the two signa- 
 tures. He did so carefully, although any one 
 would have been certain at a glance that two dif- 
 ferent hands had penned them. He wanted to 
 be quite sure! There was, of course, the possi- 
 bility that Miss Rohan had dictated this letter, 
 and that some one had not only written it, but 
 signed it. But there was nothing in this note, 
 which was an acceptance of his offer of ten thou- 
 sand for a portrait of Laurel, and which stated 
 that the artist would arrive at about this very 
 time, to indicate that it was other than Miss 
 Rohan's own handwriting. 
 
 "Certainly," said Masterman to himself, "she 
 would not commission any one with so vile a 
 handwriting to write her letters for her, eccentric 
 though she may be. It's her own handwriting!" 
 
 Then who was the impostor? Masterman 
 answered that question without hesitation. It 
 was Kirby Rowland, the young woman who had 
 over the telephone given him the command about 
 universal transfers.
 
 PLUNDER. 265 
 
 Masterman might have conversed with Kirby 
 a year without definitely recognizing that voice 
 which sounded so vaguely familiar that is, with- 
 out extraneous suggestion. But that extraneous 
 suggestion had come with suspicion. It is often 
 so. We meet a person who looks familiar, but 
 we can not name him. Then he mentions cas- 
 ually that he hasn't been in Philadelphia for seven 
 years. We know him! The train of thought 
 leading to recognition has been started. 
 
 So it was with Masterman. When he discov- 
 ered, to his own satisfaction at any rate, that the 
 guest in his household was not Adele Rohan, but 
 was an impostor, he remembered at once the only 
 place where he had ever heard her voice before 
 over the telephone the previous day. At first his 
 rage was almost ungovernable. Not quite cer- 
 tain, or rather not willing to admit his certainty, 
 until the two signatures were laid side by side, 
 he had exhibited that wonderful self-control that 
 had done so much toward placing him where he 
 was. 
 
 His first impulse was to send a servant for 
 Kirby and force the truth from her; but he dis-
 
 266 PLUNDER 
 
 missed that idea at once. There was a bare pos- 
 sibility that the guest in his house was not an im- 
 postor. Masterman never acted on impulse when 
 great issues were at stake ; he never acted on mere 
 knowledge; he acted on evidence! And he 
 wanted all the evidence obtainable. Quite calmly 
 he sat down before his private telephone and had 
 himself connected with the superintendent of the 
 telegraph company, which Masterman practically 
 owned. 
 
 "I want you," he said, "to find out for me at 
 once if a Miss Adele Rohan, an artist, has left 
 Denver, and if so, find out her destination." He 
 gave the address which was on Miss Rohan's let- 
 ter. "I want an answer within one hour." 
 
 "You'll have it, Mr. Masterman," said the su- 
 perintendent obsequiously, and Masterman hung 
 up. But he joggled the receiver again almost 
 immediately. This time he connected with Ter- 
 ence Greenham, and demanded his immediate 
 presence. After that he called up Cardigan and 
 Blaisdell, and those harassed gentlemen promised 
 to be with him as soon as swift automobiles could 
 convey them from their homes, where they had
 
 PLUNDER 267 
 
 been pacing their respective libraries, torn by a 
 hundred fears. 
 
 Blaisdell and Greenham arrived almost togeth- 
 er, Cardigan a few moments later. A servant, 
 used to surreptitious visitors, smuggled the three 
 men into the Masterman library without any one 
 else suspecting their presence. Masterman re- 
 fused to talk until all three men were present. 
 Then tersely he told them of his suspicions. 
 
 "But why wait for the Denver message?" de- 
 manded Greenham. "I've seen her; I'll know 
 her! Send for her, and " 
 
 "But wouldn't it be a good idea to find out if 
 she really is Miss Rohan? It may not be Kirby 
 Rowland masquerading as Adele Rohan, it may 
 have been Adele Rohan masquerading as Kirby 
 Rowland. She isn't alone in this, you know, 
 Greenham. If by any chance she really is the 
 Rohan woman, it will be the Rohan acquaintance 
 among whom we must search for this Dixon 
 Grant. That will help, won't it? Of course if 
 she is really Kirby Rowland, you'll have to stick 
 to her acquaintance in hope of locating Grant. 
 This woman, whatever her real name is and
 
 268 PLUNDER 
 
 we'll know that in a little while isn't alone. Re- 
 member that ! We've got her ; before taking her 
 let's find out what we can. Smoke." 
 
 In full control of himself he smoked in silence, 
 while Blaisdell and Cardigan walked the floor, 
 and Terence Greenham tried to compute how 
 much Masterman would lop off his promised re- 
 ward if Masterman had really succeeded where 
 the detective had failed. Then the phone tinkled. 
 Masterman listened a moment, then spoke : 
 
 "I want you, Keeler, to send at once to this 
 house a message for Miss Adele Rohan. It must 
 bear the Denver date line of a couple of hours 
 ago. Have it brief. Something like this : 'Come 
 at once.' Sign it 'Elise,' or any other name that 
 suits your fancy. Understand? At once!" 
 
 He turned to his companions. 
 
 "Well, gentlemen, Keeler has received word 
 from Denver that Miss Adele Rohan left that 
 'city, bound for New York, this afternoon ! There 
 is no possibility of mistake. Miss Rohan is well 
 known in Denver, and the Denver office of the 
 telegraph company even sent on the number of 
 her drawing-room. I knew it before, but I am
 
 PLUNDER 269 
 
 certain now the young woman at present play- 
 ing in the nursery with my daughter is not Miss 
 Rohan, she is the woman who possesses the paper 
 we lost yesterday." 
 
 "Then bring her in here," roared Cardigan, 
 "and we'll make her give it up!" 
 
 Masterman shook his head. 
 
 "I've had the pleasure of conversing with the 
 young lady, Cardigan. The girl who's had the 
 nerve to come up to my house when she knew 
 that I'd give a fortune to get hold of her is not 
 the kind to surrender in a moment. Besides, 
 Laurel has taken a fancy to her, and no force is 
 to be used on her." 
 
 Cardigan, fists doubled, glared at him. 
 
 "Then what do we do? Beg her to hand it 
 back? Why are we here?" 
 
 "No," said Masterman coldly, "we don't beg 
 her. Nor do we use force. We use restraint. 
 You spoke of incarcerating Mack in your Long 
 Island place. What's the matter with' taking this 
 young woman down there?" 
 
 "I suppose she'll come gladly," sneered Cardi- 
 gan.
 
 270 PLUNDER 
 
 "There are measures, my dear Cardigan, that 
 are effective without being brutal. It is one of 
 those we shall use." He unlocked a desk and 
 from a drawer drew a little medicine case. From 
 this he took a small bottle and a roll of gauze. 
 
 "I think chloroform will do the work, eh?" 
 He looked at Greenham, and the detective took 
 bottle and gauze from the financier's hands. 
 
 "I can use it," said Greenham. "Send for her." 
 
 Masterman hesitated a moment. 
 
 "We'll give her a chance first. I'll try to reason 
 with her. If I can't this library is sound-proof; 
 we'll go ahead with the chloroform. Then, Car- 
 digan, you can carry her out the side entrance; 
 I'll have a servant tell your chauffeur to move 
 down there. And then take her to Bellmere. 
 When she wakes up in the morning, and finds 
 that she's locked in a room who's down at Bell- 
 mere now?" 
 
 "Only a caretaker," answered Cardigan. "And 
 he'll keep his mouth shut he and his wife." 
 
 "Good," said Masterman. "Well, then, when 
 the young lady learns 'that she's to remain in Bell- 
 mere until she surrenders that paper after I've
 
 PLUNDER 371 
 
 had a little talk with her convincing her that 
 she'll stay there until she dies of old age if she 
 doesn't surrender it I think we'll have no diffi- 
 culty with her." 
 
 Blaisdell put his finger on the weak spot in 
 Masterman's logic. 
 
 "But the men with her Grant and Mack? 
 Perhaps they have the paper? What good'll it 
 do " 
 
 "Despite all that's happened Mack's rescue 
 of her and all that I still do not believe that 
 Mack and the girl are in league together. In the 
 first place, their demands are so utterly opposed; 
 in the second, I can not conceive of this young 
 woman having anything at all to do with Mack. 
 He is a blackmailing scoundrel; she, though act- 
 ing insanely, is a lady who would not stoop to 
 use the paper for personal profit. Why Mack 
 rescued her I don't profess to understand, but that 
 it means he has any understanding with her I 
 refuse to believe. And I'm sure that Mack hasn't 
 got the paper. She has it. Why, that's it!" he 
 exclaimed. "She has it, was on the verge of cap- 
 ture was captured and Mack rescued her. He
 
 272 PLUNDER 
 
 rescued her thinking that he could later obtain it 
 from her. But he was immediately locked up, 
 and since his release she's been in this house. 
 Though she was out to-day shopping, she told 
 my wife I do not believe she saw Mack. He 
 is out of the game for the present, at any rate. 
 
 "And the other man Grant. From what you 
 have told us, Greenham, it seems certain that he 
 is no friend of Mack's, although the latter gave 
 him the paper. But he is a friend of Miss Row- 
 land. More he must be her lover. To no one 
 else would he have confided the nature of that 
 document. To no one else would he have appor- 
 tioned a part in this little play. 
 
 "If this man Grant communicates with me I 
 shall tell him that unless he surrenders the paper 
 provided that she hasn't it he will never see 
 her again. Further, if he threatens publication I 
 will inform him that when it comes Martin Mas- 
 terman's time to be destroyed by his enemies, he 
 will take whatever of those enemies he can along 
 with him. I will tell him that publication means 
 death to me ; it will also mean death to Miss Row- 
 land. Any more objections?"
 
 PLUNDER 273 
 
 The others were silent. Masterman spoke 
 again. 
 
 "We'll give her a chance. If she is stubborn 
 Cardigan will take her to Bellmere. You, Green- 
 ham, will at once order a woman operative, im- 
 personating Miss Rowland, to take the night 
 train to Chicago. Then let her disappear for 
 a while. This is merely in case Grant should try 
 to trace the young woman. He might hire some 
 private detective agency to locate her. They 
 would learn that the supposed 'Miss Rohan' had 
 received a telegram and left at once for Denver. 
 It merely covers her trail. For I shall see that 
 my servants know of the telegram which Keeler 
 will send here, and of Miss Rohan's sudden de- 
 parture. Then, if Grant loves the girl, and he 
 must, he will know that it is useless to attempt 
 tracing her, and if he has the paper in his posses- 
 sion he will surrender." 
 
 "You count a lot on the effect of love, don't 
 you?" sneered Cardigan. 
 
 "The force that has made history is hardly 
 to be scoffed at," was Mastennan's reply. Then 
 he gave his last instructions :
 
 274 PLUNDER 
 
 "Greenham, you keep after this Grant and 
 Mack, too, though I can not see where he figures. 
 Cardigan, you stay with this girl at Bellmere; 
 but" and he spoke with sudden vehemence 
 "if you harm her you'll settle with me. You, 
 Blaisdell, go home and try to stop whimpering. 
 Ready?" 
 
 He pressed a bell, a servant came, and imme- 
 diately left to inform Miss Rohan that Mr. Mas- 
 terman would like to see her in his library. Little 
 Laurel had just been put to bed and Kirby was 
 on the verge of retiring to her own room. Mrs. 
 Masterman and Kirby, in fact, were just parting 
 in the hall outside Laurel's bedroom when the 
 servant gave Kirby the message. 
 
 "If Mr. Masterman gets talking art he doesn't 
 know when to stop. I think I'll say good night 
 now," smiled Mrs. Masterman. Impulsively she 
 kissed Kirby, and with a heavy heart why is it 
 that a spy, doing a gallant service, despises him- 
 self? Kirby went to the library. 
 
 Once across the threshold, seeing that Master- 
 man was not alone, recognizing the faces of 
 Blaisdell and Cardigan from their newspaper pic-
 
 PLUNDER 275 
 
 tures, she would have turned and fled the room; 
 but Greenham was too quick. He closed the door 
 and locked it; and Kirby recognized him. She 
 knew the purpose of the meeting. But the color 
 came back to her cheeks as quickly as it fled. Her 
 lips curled in a smile; her eyes sparkled with 
 that light that illumines the eyes of the born 
 fighter going joyously into battle. She had had 
 tremors before; she had been frightened before; 
 but this had been as the nervousness of the sol- 
 dier on the eve of battle. Battle itself she did 
 not dread. Moreover, she had taken a quick 
 liking, that was really warm affection, for Laurel 
 Masterman. It irked Kirby to be masquerading 
 in the home of Laurel. She was glad the issue 
 was joined. She waited for Masterman to speak. 
 
 "Miss Rowland," he said heavily, "you are in 
 my house on false pretenses. You can go to 
 jail for that." 
 
 "I dare you to send me there, Mr. Masterman," 
 she smiled. 
 
 "We'll discuss that later. First, I want a paper 
 which you possess. We won't beatv about the 
 bush, please. You know the paper I mean."
 
 276 PLUNDER 
 
 "Certainly. I shall not give it to you." 
 
 "Then we shall be compelled to search your 
 effects." 
 
 She laughed. 
 
 "You are perfectly welcome. It is not among 
 them." 
 
 "Then you will tell us where it is*" 
 
 Again she laughed. 
 
 "You think so?" 
 
 "I am certain of it. If not now in the 
 future." 
 
 She met his eye. 
 
 "Mr. Masterman, I will never surrender that 
 paper until the work which I have begun is fin- 
 ished. You may kill me, if you dare, but you 
 will not get that paper." 
 
 Only a fool could have doubted her sincerity. 
 There was nothing to be gained by argument. 
 Resolute, unafraid, defiance in every inch of her, 
 Kirby faced the master of transportation; and 
 the great financier was a reader of character. He 
 knew that it was hopeless to argue, futile to 
 threaten. The only thing to do was to imprison 
 Kirby, wait for Grant to make a demand, and
 
 PLUNDER 277 
 
 then use her as the club whereby to swing him 
 into line. He signaled Greenham. 
 
 Ten minutes later a burly man descended the 
 steps of the side entrance to the Masterman man- 
 sion, bearing a limp figure in his arms. He placed 
 his burden inside the waiting limousine, and spoke 
 one word to the chauffeur: 
 
 "Hurry!"
 
 XVII 
 
 GRANT telephoned the Masterman home in 
 the morning. Both Kirby and he had 
 agreed that telephoning was not the safest thing 
 in the world, yet, if he asked for Miss Rohan, 
 and their conversation was confined to conven- 
 tionalities, there seemed hardly any risk. He, 
 of course, would give an assumed name if 
 requested to tell who wished to speak with Miss 
 Rohan. There might be danger, but, in the 
 midst of the dangers which surrounded them, 
 this particular one seemed almost negligible. 
 
 "Miss Rohan is not here," said the servant who 
 answered his call. 
 
 "Not there!" Grant was aghast. "What do 
 you mean?" 
 
 "She left last night for Denver," was the 
 amazing reply. 
 
 For a moment, dazed, Grant could say noth- 
 ing. And when he could it was merely a feeble 
 question. 
 
 278
 
 PLUNDER 279 
 
 "Are are you sure?" 
 
 "Certainly, sir," said the servant icily. "If it's 
 anything important you may speak with Mr. 
 Masterman. His instructions are that any one 
 calling for Miss Rohan shall be connected with 
 him if desired." 
 
 "Let me speak to him," said Grant hoarsely. 
 
 A moment later a harsh voice sounded in his 
 ears. 
 
 "Well, who is this? Some one asking for 
 Miss Rohan?" 
 
 "Yes, a friend of hers. I'm told she left for 
 Denver last night." 
 
 "Are you inquiring for Miss Rohan or Miss 
 Rowland?" queried the financier. 
 
 The game was up! Grant choked back an 
 explanation. 
 
 "Either one," he stammered. 
 
 A grim chuckle came along the wire. 
 
 "Well, to any friends of Miss Rohan that hap- 
 pen to have known of her presence in town, I 
 can only say that she received a telegram last 
 night, and took the night train for Chicago en 
 route for Denver. To any one asking for Miss
 
 280 PLUNDER 
 
 Rowland, I can only say that if that person knew 
 of Miss Rowland's presence in my home, he must 
 also know of the existence of a certain little 
 paper. Am I correct?" 
 
 Grant glanced over his shoulder. He was tele- 
 phoning from a drug store. His was the only 
 booth. It would be impossible for Masterman to 
 work the trick he had attempted when Kirby 
 had phoned him that of trying to attempt deten- 
 tion of the person talking with him. Drug stores 
 do not have house detectives amenable to the 
 sudden commands of money. Escape was easy 
 if necessary. And of this last, now that Kirby 
 was known for what and whom she was, he 
 was not certain there was necessity. The game 
 was up! Yet he temporized. 
 
 "And if you are correct? What then?" 
 
 "Then, Mr. Dixon Grant," snapped Master- 
 man, "if you care to see Miss Rowland again 
 you will turn that paper over to me at once." 
 
 "And supposing that I meet threat with 
 threat ? Unless I hear from Miss Rowland within 
 the hour she knows where to reach me and
 
 PLUNDER 281 
 
 learn that she is not annoyed by you, I will turn 
 that paper over to the newspapers." 
 
 "Who wouldn't print it," jeered Masterman. 
 
 "Are you sure ? I have noticed that one paper, 
 the Citizen, seems glad to print anything that 
 tends to show you up for what you really are! 
 Furthermore, you seem to think yourself that 
 certain papers would print it, else why did you 
 grant universal transfers? Let's not bluff. 
 You've hidden Miss Rowland away. You've 
 taken advantage of her assumption of Miss 
 Rohan's identity to concoct a telegram calling 
 her away in order that any one anxious to see 
 the real Miss Rohan would be fooled. And also 
 to clear yourself of any charge of abduction. 
 Very clever! Only it doesn't work, Mr. Martin 
 Masterman! One hour! If I don't hear from 
 Miss Rowland by then I turn that precious docu- 
 ment over to the papers!" 
 
 "And if you do, Mr. Grant, do you know what 
 will happen? My life will be in danger in 
 fact, I am prepared to admit that I do not believe 
 there is a spot on earth where I would be safi
 
 282 PLUNDER 
 
 from the people. I am ready to take my medi- 
 cine; but some one else will take it before myself. 
 As surely as I speak to you now, Mr. Grant, so 
 surely will Miss Kirby Rowland go before me! 
 If I'm to die, so does she and first ! Now then, 
 do you print that paper or do you give it up 
 to me? I'll reward you. You'll not lose any- 
 thing by abandoning this insane scheme of yours 
 
 to ruin property. You'll be rich " 
 
 A click at the other end of the wire made him 
 realize that he was pouring his golden promises 
 into a lifeless machine. For Grant had hung up 
 and staggered from the booth. Not only was 
 the game up, but Masterman had him on the 
 hip! There was no doubting the sincerity of 
 Masterman's threat. Grant believed implicitly 
 that the publication of that paper meant the sign- 
 ing of Kirby's death warrant. His first impulse 
 had been to promise Masterman surrender of 
 that paper at once; to tell him where it was. That 
 he did not yield to his impulse was due to no 
 lack of love for Kirby, no disregard of the dan- 
 ger that menaced her; it was due to common
 
 PLUNDER 283 
 
 sense; common sense which, even in this moment 
 of surprise and shock, bade him hesitate. Dimly 
 he could see that there was a weakness in Mas- 
 terman's position, that the financier was by no 
 means impregnably intrenched in his demands. 
 But he realized that until his brain cleared from 
 the cloud that Kirby's capture had caused he was 
 in no position to deal with Masterman. One 
 thing alone was clear to him while publication 
 of that paper was withheld Kirby was safe ! Mas- 
 terman would not dare harm her, knowing the 
 inevitable result publication and ruin and 
 death! Masterman would wait. 
 
 As he walked up the street his mind cleared; 
 his mental processes became lucid once more. 
 He sat down on a bench in a little park and 
 reviewed the situation. Kirby had been captured ; 
 she had been smuggled away to some hiding- 
 place. Her trail had been covered by the pre- 
 tense of her having received a telegram calling 
 her to Denver. To the police Masterman could 
 say that he had no idea that Miss Rohan was not 
 what she purported and represented herself to
 
 284 PLUNDER 
 
 be the eccentric Western-Parisian portrait 
 painter. Ostensibly, Miss Rohan had started for 
 Denver; in reality, she had been taken 
 
 She was not in the Masterman home that was 
 positive. Masterman would not dare keep her 
 there. So he had had her taken somewhere else. 
 That was as certain as the course of the sun. 
 And so was something else. Before abducting 
 Kirby, Masterman had tried to get the paper 
 from her. No one but a fool would have failed 
 to demand the paper. Masterman was no fool. 
 He had demanded it, and he had not got it! If 
 he had he wouldn't be asking Grant for it. Why 
 hadn't he got it? Because Kirby had refused. 
 And why had Kirby refused ? Because the game 
 wasn't up! 
 
 It was clear as crystal. Kirby didn't want the 
 paper surrendered. If she had well, she'd have 
 told Masterman where it was. Why argue any 
 further than that? Moreover, Kirby knew the 
 name of the hotel where Grant was stopping. 
 She'd have got him on the phone and told him 
 what had happened. But why wasn't the game 
 up? Because Kirby relied on him, Dixon Grant,
 
 PLUNDER 285 
 
 to play it through to a winning finish ! She relied 
 on his wit to extricate her from her danger, and 
 then go through with their plan to the end agreed 
 upon by them. 
 
 And if Kirby wasn't a quitter, if Kirby was 
 game enough to risk indignity and restraint, he 
 must do his part. For the time being Kirby was 
 safe. While the paper was unpublished Master- 
 man faced a weapon as dreaded by him as Kirby's 
 capture was hateful to Grant. The odds had 
 shifted, that was all. Instead of being in favor 
 of Grant and Kirby, they were even now. It 
 was up to Grant to rescue Kirby and cause 
 another shifting of the odds in Kirby 's war. But 
 how? There must be a way! Kirby, by her 
 refusal to surrender the paper, showed her faith 
 in Grant to find that way. It was up to him to 
 justify that faith. He slumped farther down 
 upon the bench, his brain clear now, and working 
 at its utmost efficiency. Where had they taken 
 Kirby? How could he rescue her? 
 
 Half an hour of concentrated thought and his 
 head was dizzy with the problem. It was clear 
 enough what must be done. How to do it he
 
 286 PLUNDER 
 
 did not yet see clearly. Mechanically he reached 
 for a morning paper, discarded by some earlier 
 loiterer in the park. The sheet was open at the 
 "Want Ads" page, and the first column of this 
 page was devoted to personals. Idly, hardly see- 
 ing what he read, his eyes went down the column. 
 It stopped and read one advertisment a second 
 time. It was the personal inserted by Harry 
 Mack in every morning paper save the Citizen, 
 which had not run his advertisement for the two 
 simple reasons that Hanrahan had taken it away 
 with him and had not returned, and that Mack 
 had neglected to pay for its insertion. But as in 
 the one intended to be inserted in the Citizen, this 
 one gave the newspaper publishing it as the place 
 to address Mack. 
 
 There was no question in Grant's mind as to 
 whom it was addressed. And this was Thursday. 
 At six P. M., if Mack kept his word, the game 
 would be out of the hands of the self-constituted 
 battlers for the people. And on publication it 
 would not matter to Masterman that Harry Mack 
 caused the publication Kirby would die. Now, 
 indeed, the game was up! Mack could undoubt-
 
 PLUNDER 287 
 
 edly tell a story so convincing that his inability 
 to produce the paper itself would not greatly 
 affect evidence in his tale. A paper like the Citi- 
 zen, for example, careless of libel suits, would 
 print greedily Mack's story. And Mack would 
 give Kirby's name and his, Grant's. He must 
 see Mack at once, and try to prevent his thwarted 
 cupidity from wrecking a plan destined to ameli- 
 orate the conditions of the poor. The man's 
 conscience must be appealed to. Grant must 
 
 try Here Grant laughed at the idea of 
 
 Mack having a conscience. Then he remembered 
 how Mack had rescued Kirby from the clutches 
 of the Masterman agents. 
 
 Grant had scoffed at the idea of chivalry hav- 
 ing actuated that rescue. But did it matter what 
 had actuated it? Mack had done it. For his 
 own reasons Mack had not wanted Kirby cap- 
 tured by Masterman. And then Grant laughed 
 again at his own stupidity. For as Masterman 
 had reasoned so did he at last. Mack had saved 
 Kirby because she held the paper which he did 
 not wish to pass into Masterman's possession. 
 That was the answer to that riddle. And if
 
 288 PLUNDER 
 
 Mack had saved Kirby once, would he not try 
 it again? And could not Mack, with his under- 
 world cunning, be of invaluable assistance to 
 Grant? Grant alone could hardly hope to res- 
 cue Kirby if she were guarded properly. But 
 with Mack he smiled at the idea of forming 
 an alliance with the crook; but he needed help, 
 and the shrewd brain of Harry Mack could give 
 that help. He entered a telegraph office and 
 swiftly wrote a message. 
 
 "H. M. Will be in cafe of Hotel Blank wait- 
 ing for you. D. G." 
 
 He delivered the envelope to a clerk. 
 
 "This will go at once? How soon will it be 
 delivered ?" 
 
 The clerk saw that it was addressed in care 
 of the Despatch. 
 
 "Boy ought to get down there in the subway 
 in ten minutes." 
 
 "Give him this for speed," said Grant, and 
 passed a coin to the clerk. A moment later a 
 boy dashed out of the office, and Grant entered 
 the Blank and made his way to the cafe. Inside 
 of an hour Harry Mack entered. For he had left
 
 PLUNDER 289 
 
 instructions with the Despatch business office to 
 have any answers to his advertisement forwarded 
 to him by special messenger at once, at a down- 
 town address he gave, and he had wasted no 
 time on receiving Grant's note. He sat down 
 opposite Grant. 
 
 "Well ? Going to declare me in, are you ?" 
 
 Grant looked at him. 
 
 "Mack, do you really intend to use this paper 
 as a lever for blackmail?" 
 
 "If you must be so crude of expression yes," 
 replied Mack. 
 
 "And there's no way in which I can persuade 
 you to join with Miss Rowland and myself in 
 urging it as a weapon to get the people their 
 rightful dues?" 
 
 Mack sneered. 
 
 "I can get twenty-five thousand from a news- 
 paper for what I can tell them. Twenty-five 
 thousand is a drop in the bucket compared to 
 what I ought to get, but even a drop is a sizable 
 drink to a man dying of thirst. I don't even get 
 the drop working with you crazy people. Of 
 course I'm going to use that paper for myself. 
 But I'll divide the coin in three pieces one for
 
 290 PLUNDER 
 
 each of us. What's the answer? Do you join 
 with me, or do I grab what I can from the 
 papers ?" 
 
 "Why hurry?" inquired Grant 
 
 "Because you people will gum the game," 
 snarled Mack. "You'll get caught by the Mas- 
 terman gang and lose the paper, and then where' 11 
 I be? You people are the kind that wouldn't 
 back my story up if you didn't have the paper. 
 You'd be afraid of trouble. You'd be afraid of 
 anarchy and heaven knows what not, if you cor- 
 roborated my statements. No, you people aren't 
 after the coin. You'd have got it before this if 
 you had been. Your girl gave me an idea of 
 what you wanted. You want to reform the 
 world. With this paper in ytfur possession you 
 think Masterman will do as you say. He ain't 
 got sense enough to see that you people wouldn't 
 publish the thing anyway, for fear of awful con- 
 sequences to the country. That's the way I dope 
 you two anyway, and I'll bet I'm right!" 
 
 Grant met his angry glance. 
 
 "Maybe you are right, Mack; but as you say, 
 no paper is going to pay you a large sum for
 
 PLUNDER 291 
 
 your story unless Miss Rowland and I corrob- 
 orate it." 
 
 "By your actions," amended Mack. "By the 
 fact that you two are laying low and hiding from 
 Masterman. That'll be corroboration enough, 
 considering the straight yarn I can spring." 
 
 "But you're too good a sport to sell for 
 twenty-five thousand when there's a chance for 
 millions." 
 
 "Where's my chance?" 
 
 "As long as Miss Rowland and I have the 
 paper you think you have a chance, eh?" 
 
 "I know I've got a chance," snarled Mack. 
 "But you won't have the paper long. Master- 
 man's gang'll land you and then I lose." 
 
 "And supposing that Masterman had landed 
 Miss Rowland? Would you try to rescue her, 
 thinking that later you could get hold of the 
 paper?" 
 
 "Mr. Grant," said Mack, and his voice was 
 menacing, "let's drop the foolish talk. I won't 
 give my story to any paper. Twenty-five thou- 
 sand or so won't buy that secret from me. I want 
 a million. I put that advertisement in to scare
 
 292 PLUNDER 
 
 you people. I've done it. I want to get hold of 
 you. I've done it. Now you hand me over that 
 paper or I'll finish you here in this cafe!" 
 
 "But I haven't the paper. It's locked away 
 in a vault, and Miss Rowland is the only one 
 who can get possession of it." 
 
 "Then lead me to her. I mean it, Grant. As 
 I'm a living man, you'll be a dead one if you 
 don't. Where is she?" 
 
 "Now we're getting down to cases," said 
 Grant, apparently unmoved by the threat. "I 
 don't know where she is." 
 
 "You what?" 
 
 "And as I don't care to entrust any one else 
 with the secret of this paper, I thought you'd 
 help me find her," continued Grant calmly. 
 "After we've found her and rescued her well, 
 then, Mr. Mack, I'll listen to your talk about gun 
 play. But I haven't the paper. I can't get it. 
 Miss Rowland can. Do you want to help me 
 find her, with the understanding that after she's 
 rescued you and I are on opposite sides again ?" 
 
 Mack removed his hand from his pocket. Not 
 until then did Grant realize how absolutely serious
 
 PLUNDER 293 
 
 Mack had been. For the coat pocket sagged, as 
 the hand was removed, and the weapon inside 
 settled back into place. Mack was desperate, 
 but Mack also was the only person Grant knew 
 who could help him now. Wars, even people's 
 wars, can make as strange bedfellows as politics. 
 After Kirby was rescued but let the future and 
 Dixon Grant take care of Kirby. Kirby would 
 come to no harm from Mack; Grant would die 
 first. Moreover, armed men have been disarmed 
 before this. The risk was slight, thought Grant, 
 compared to the stake at issue the rescue of a 
 people. 
 
 "What's happened?" demanded Mack. 
 
 SKviftly Grant told him of Kirby's venture 
 into the house of Masterman, and his own recent 
 telephonic conversation with Masterman. 
 
 "You, Mack," he finished, "are powerless 
 while Miss Rowland is in Masterman's hands. 
 Though I warn you that you'll not get hold of 
 that paper while I'm able to prevent you, you 
 can see that you have absolutely no chance to 
 get hold of it while Miss Rowland is a prisoner. 
 Will you help me?"
 
 294 PLUNDER 
 
 "Can you drive a car?" demanded Mack, with 
 seeming irrelevance. 
 
 "Yes; why?" 
 
 "Day before yesterday Cardigan wanted to 
 drug me and take me to his place on Long Island. 
 Masterman has country places at Bar Harbor and 
 Pinehurst. Too far! Blaisdell's nearest country 
 place is in the Thousand Islands. Now they 
 wouldn't let any more people into the secret than 
 necessary. They wouldn't send her to some other 
 millionaire's place. Too risky. Cardigan's is the 
 nearest place. It's a cinch they wouldn't keep 
 her in town, so she must be in the country, and 
 that means Cardigan's country place at Bellmere. 
 You've heard of it?" 
 
 "Seen photographs in the Sunday papers," said 
 Grant. 
 
 "So have I. Well, that seems the most likely 
 place to look for her. Easily reached by auto- 
 mobile, no need of taking her on a train where 
 crew and passengers might see something to 
 arouse suspicion. And it's the place Cardigan 
 proposed taking me! I'll bet she's there!" 
 
 "Then let's start now," said Grant, rising.
 
 PLUNDER 295 
 
 "It will take us four hours to get there, including 
 the time we waste now getting started." 
 
 "No hurry," said Mack. "We don't want to 
 get there until after dark, you know. Still, we'll 
 want to get down to Edgewater, the nearest 
 village to Cardigan's place, and sort of scout 
 round. Come on, let's hire a car !" 
 
 At eleven o'clock that night an electric wire, 
 cleverly concealed in the shrubbery that girded 
 the lawns about the Cardigan country house, was 
 trod upon by the foot of Harry Mack. Within 
 the house six Greenham operatives prepared for 
 action. Ten minutes later Handsome Harry 
 Mack and Dixon Grant were dragged into the 
 presence of Martin Masterman. For the master 
 of transportation was a very shrewd man. It had 
 occurred to him that Grant might learn where 
 Kirby was, and that Cardigan and an aged care- 
 taker might not be sufficient to cope with an out- 
 raged lover. And as he wished to question Kirby, 
 and try to succeed where the Cardigan threats 
 had failed, he had come down to Bellmere him- 
 self bringing the Greenham operatives. 
 
 He looked from one to the other of the cap-
 
 296 PLUNDER 
 
 tives, who had been surprised and overcome 
 before Mack could even place his hand on the 
 automatic pistol in his coat pocket. 
 
 "Well, gentlemen," said the master of trans- 
 portation, "Miss Rowland won't tell where that 
 paper is. One of you gentlemen will! No? I 
 don't want to use force, gentlemen, but I want 
 that paper! Cardigan, bring in the girl!" 
 
 And Kirby Rowland, sick at sight of brutal 
 ringers crushing the throat of Dixon Grant, told 
 the hiding-place of the paper. 
 
 "In my own vaults," said Masterman, gasping. 
 "Of all the nerve " 
 
 He never finished that sentence, for at that 
 moment the front-door bell clanged ominously. 
 Bellmere had other visitors besides Mack and 
 Grant that night; and these later visitors came 
 not like thieves in the night, but boldly and un- 
 afraid. And they pounded on the front door. 
 
 "There's a dozen of 'em," gasped a Greenham 
 operative who had peered through a window. "A 
 dozen, and I just heard one of 'em orderin' the 
 others to fire their guns at the lock to bust it in !" 
 
 Masterman glared.
 
 PLUNDER 397 
 
 "Cardigan, open the door for them, and see 
 who and what they are. Threaten them, with 
 the law. If that doesn't warn them off advise 
 them that armed men are here and will resist any 
 forced entrance." 
 
 But it takes more than threats, more than bul- 
 lets, to stop the advance of United States mar- 
 shals. They swept in like a tide, and at Cardi- 
 gan's protest one seized him by the arm and 
 declared that he was under arrest. 
 
 "On what charge?" demanded Cardigan. 
 
 "On the charge of conspiracy in restraint of 
 trade, and on a warrant issued by the Supreme 
 Court of the United States ! And we want Mas- 
 terman! Where is he?" 
 
 They flooded into the house, followed by two 
 men whom Cardigan, fear clutching at his 
 throat, recognized. So did Masterman, a moment 
 later, and he thanked the presence of mind that 
 had made him order Kirby, Dixon Grant and 
 Harry Mack hidden away in a room on the top 
 floor. 
 
 "What does this mean?" he blustered, glaring 
 at the men he recognized.
 
 298 PLUNDER 
 
 But his bluster Woke down when one of them, 
 ignoring his question, said : 
 
 "In addition to other charges, Mr. Masterman, 
 there will be the one of kidnaping, for which 
 I guarantee you twenty years in jail unless you 
 immediately produce one Kirby Rowland, alleged 
 to be detained by you." 
 
 Masterman knew the game was up. He looked 
 at a Greenham operative. The man sullenly left 
 the room. A moment later the three prisoners 
 were confronting their erstwhile captors and 
 their rescuers in a room where economic history 
 was shortly to be made. For the thin-faced man 
 with the stern manner was Morley Ellis, Attorney- 
 General of the United States of America; and 
 behind him stood Lindley Jackson.
 
 XVIII 
 
 WHEN Handsome Harry Mack flicked 
 a pellet into the highball of Tom Hanra- 
 han, he thought that this little finger had sent 
 enough of the deadly drug into Tom Hanrahan's 
 glass to render the reporter harmless for at least 
 ninety-six hours. But the international crook 
 reckoned without the newspaperman's wonder- 
 ful constitution. Hanrahan had been a football 
 star and captain of his crew at college. And 
 during the four years that had elapsed since 
 graduation he had kept himself in fine condition. 
 Within twenty-four hours after being found 
 unconscious on the floor of the Tube Hanrahan 
 awoke. He found himself in a small room, 
 whose white furnishings were proof of its con- 
 nection with a hospital. 
 
 "Well, where the deuce how the deuce " 
 
 Then he knew, and despite a splitting headache 
 
 and a nausea, that enfeebled him, he rolled out 
 
 299
 
 300 PLUNDER 
 
 of bed, and staggered toward a half -opened closet 
 wherein he could see his clothes hanging. Half- 
 way to the closet he collapsed, and the noise of 
 his fall brought in a nurse from the hall outside. 
 A passing doctor came in answer to her cry, and 
 together they managed to get Hanrahan back into 
 bed. But when the nurse put something to his 
 lips Hanrahan had recovered his senses again and 
 brushed it aside. 
 
 "Get Jackson Lindley Jackson," he gasped. 
 
 "Here, here, my man, drink this," commanded 
 the doctor. "You're mighty sick! No time to 
 talk now." 
 
 He put his arm about Hanrahan' s shoulders 
 and raised him that he might swallow the easier. 
 But a sudden fury seemed to sweep over Hanra- 
 han. He broke the doctor's grip and hurled the 
 glass across the room, where it splintered in a 
 score of pieces. 
 
 "I'm Hanrahan of the Citizen. Get Jackson 
 * -Lindley Jackson!" 
 
 The doctor looked at the nurse. 
 
 "Is this so? Did you find any paper on him?" 
 
 The nurse shook her head.
 
 PLUNDER 301 
 
 "Just some letters without their envelopes. 
 Over ninety dollars, so we put him in a private 
 room. His clothing was expensive, too; but no 
 identification." 
 
 The reporter listened to her, then spoke again. 
 
 "Inside pocket my vest police card. Send 
 for Jackson vital important get him." 
 
 The nurse sped to the closet; she brought out 
 the waistcoat, and in that neglected pocket which 
 Hanrahan mentioned she found his police identifi- 
 cation card. 
 
 "Better phone his employers," suggested the 
 doctor. "Tell them the man was found drugged 
 in the Tube last night, that no one there seemed 
 to know who he was. That we have just dis- 
 covered his identity, and that, while he is in no 
 danger, perhaps some one in the office might 
 care to see him. Add that the man states that 
 he has something of vital importance to tell his 
 employers." 
 
 Hanrahan heard the instructions, and sank 
 back on his pillow with a sigh of relief. Twenty 
 minutes later Lindley Jackson, who for twenty- 
 four hours had wondered about Hanrahan,
 
 3 02 PLUNDER 
 
 greatly perturbed, entered the sick room. The 
 doctor had told him of Hanrahan's condition, had 
 stated that only a man wonderfully endowed 
 with physical and mental strength could have 
 recovered so quickly, and warned Jackson not 
 to excite his employee. 
 
 Hanrahan thrust out a feeble hand. 
 
 "Got the goods, boss. Had most of it, and 
 then met Harry Mack wanted to put personal 
 in paper, threatening Kirby Rowland and Dixon 
 Grant with exposure unless they came across. 
 Mack got wise that I was next to his game. 
 Drugged me. Guess they must have a new bar- 
 keep in the Tube. All the old-timers know me." 
 He grinned feebly. "Here's the dope: Mack 
 found paper lost by Master man. Kirby Row- 
 land, chum of girl I know, Jessie Sigmund and 
 Miss Sigmund started me on right trail got 
 hold of paper. With Dixon Grant, friend of 
 hers, started some game of their own. Master- 
 man's agents Greenhams after them. Miss 
 Rowland hides in Masterman's house, under name 
 of Adele Rohan, the artist. Rowland girl is 
 artist herself. Don't know about Grant. Get
 
 PLUNDER 303 
 
 the girl. She can tell story. In Masterman's 
 house. I know it. Don't ask me how get 
 her! She'll talk. You'll find some way. But 
 before you get her" and now he fought des- 
 perately with the drowsiness that attacked him 
 "ask permission of Jessie Sigmund. Gave me 
 first tip. Must have her permission to use tip. 
 Got to be square or she won't she won't marry 
 me. Got to be fair " 
 
 His voice died away. He was not to speak 
 again for fifteen hours ; he was not to be his old, 
 jovial, healthy self for a month. Jackson looked 
 down at him. His eyes softened; he patted the 
 unconscious head. 
 
 "Some boy!" he said. Then he turned to the 
 doctor. "The best the hospital can afford, Doc- 
 tor," he said curtly. "Send the bills to me. Have 
 you a telephone?" 
 
 Of course they had, and Jackson was led to it. 
 He found Miss Sigmund's number in the book 
 and called her up. 
 
 "Miss Sigmund ? . . . This is Lindley Jack- 
 son, publisher of the Citizen. Mr. Hanrahan, one 
 of my men, has informed me that before seeing
 
 304 PLUNDER 
 
 Miss Kirby Rowland I must ask your permis- 
 sion. . . . Question of honor, I believe. 
 . . . You gave him a tip that has led to her 
 discovery. . . . Why doesn't he ask you? 
 Well, Miss Sigmund, he's ill not seriously, no. 
 . . . Yes, you can come up and see him 
 Presbyterian Hospital. . . Drugged all 
 right, in a day or so, I assure you. Miss Sig- 
 mund. . . . We may act, then, upon what- 
 ever tip you gave him. Thank you. . . . No, 
 don't worry; he's all right. Sleeping and in no 
 danger. . . . And when he's able to talk, Miss 
 Sigmund, kindly tell him that the paper gives him 
 a month's vacation, and that he's to be managing 
 editor on his return." 
 
 Then, with a last command that Hanrahan be 
 treated well, Jackson dashed from the hospital 
 and into the car that awaited him, giving his 
 chauffeur the name of a hotel. 
 
 In ten minutes he had sent up his name to 
 Morley Ellis, a guest at the hotel, and was riding 
 in the elevator to Ellis' room. The attorney-gen- 
 eral met him at the door. They shook hands 
 warmly.
 
 PLUNDER 305 
 
 Each admired the other tremendously, and in 
 addition to admiration and liking there was grati- 
 tude on the side of Ellis, for Lindley Jackson's 
 money and support had made Ellis district attor- 
 ney of his state. In that office he had made a 
 remarkable record, and upon the accession of 
 his party to national power, Jackson, who had 
 supported the new administration with both 
 money and brains, had forced upon a president 
 reluctant to appoint so pronounced a radical, the 
 name of Morley Ellis as his attorney-general. 
 
 Ellis never forgot a friend. He knew that 
 what he was he owed in great measure to Lind- 
 ley Jackson. He was his own man, nobody 
 owned him, but he knew his debt and would pay 
 on demand, provided the demand was in accord 
 with his conscience. And Lindley Jackson's 
 demand would not offend the conscience of Ellis ! 
 Jackson got right down to business. 
 
 "Meant to see you to-night, anyway, Ellis," 
 he said, "but didn't think it would be on busi- 
 ness. However, it is. You're over here investi- 
 gating the turpentine crowd, aren't you?" 
 
 Ellis nodded.
 
 306 PLUNDER 
 
 "Suppose you've got a pile of blank warrants 
 made out by the Supreme Court, eh?" 
 
 "Lots of subpoenas and a few warrants, yes." 
 
 "Would you have the nerve to arrest Martin 
 Masterman ?" 
 
 Ellis smiled grimly. 
 
 "You know me, Lindley. Show me some evi- 
 dence justifying his arrest, and I'll act." 
 
 "Then you'll act," said Jackson grimly. 
 
 Swiftly he reviewed the events of the past 
 twenty-four hours, beginning with his invitation 
 to attend the conference at Master-man's house 
 and ending with the words of Tom Hanrahan. 
 
 "Of course," he ended, "I learned of the exis- 
 tence of this remarkable document only in confi- 
 dence. I would not have thought to search for 
 it except for what Masterman told me. And 
 yet, what I've found out is without betraying the 
 confidence. It was not to be expected of any 
 newspaperman that, learning of the existence of 
 such a paper, he should make no effort to find 
 it, even though knowledge of its existence was 
 learned in confidence. Masterman himself ad- 
 mitted that the paper might be brought to me. In
 
 PLUNDER 307 
 
 that case I saw no reason why I shouldn't make 
 an effort to have it brought to me. At any rate, 
 right or wrong, I feel that I'm relieved of my 
 promise to keep silent. From outside sources I 
 have learned what Masterman was so anxious to 
 keep secret. Further, before even exacting any 
 confidences, he mentioned a force that menaced 
 something himself. I've tried to be fair to him, 
 Ellis, but the thing is too big. So then, do you 
 summon a bunch of marshals, raid Masterman's 
 house, get hold of the Rowland girl, force her 
 if we can to tell the nature of this paper, arrest 
 Masterman or not?" 
 
 "You've given me evidence enough, Lindley," 
 replied Ellis, "to make me believe that there is 
 a criminal conspiracy behind this universal trans- 
 fer business. And as the Consolidated Car Lines 
 does a business in Jersey City, and is, therefore, 
 an interstate concern, it comes under the control 
 of the federal government. We'll raid Master- 
 man in an hour." 
 
 And in just exactly that time Morley Ellis rang 
 the bell of the Masterman mansion. Behind him 
 were a dozen United States marshals. It was the
 
 3 o8 PLUNDER 
 
 United States government against the Master- 
 man money, and servants who would have 
 scoffed at the police broke down before the attor- 
 ney-general. In ten minutes Ellis had learned 
 that Kirby Rowland was at Cardigan's place at 
 Bellmere, and that Masterman had gone down 
 there an hour earlier. The servants who had 
 aided in the laying of the false trail to cover 
 Kirby's whereabouts, who had witnessed bribe 
 money time and again, dared not lie to a member 
 of the cabinet. And four hours later the attorney- 
 general, Jackson, Cardigan, Masterman, Mack, 
 Grant and Kirby Rowland, with a dozen or more 
 marshals and detectives to act as supernumera- 
 ries, staged the final act of the drama that had 
 begun when the hand of Handsome Harry Mack 
 seized the paper that had blown from Master- 
 man's office.
 
 XIX 
 
 ROWLAND " said t* 16 attorney- 
 general, "am I right in presuming that 
 you have in your possession a paper signed by 
 Martin Masterman?" 
 
 The old gray wolf of finance was not dead yet. 
 He showed his teeth. 
 
 "I have it in my vaults," he snarled. "This 
 woman just confessed to me that she had placed 
 it there. You can't get it!" 
 
 "No?" Ellis smiled his thin-lipped, frosty 
 smile. "I have yet to learn of the vault that will 
 refuse to open for the United States govern- 
 ment! Miss Rowland, will you kindly tell us 
 the nature of that document?" 
 
 Again Masterman spoke. 
 
 "There are a million dollars, Miss Rowland, 
 
 to be distributed between you and Grant and Mack 
 
 if you refuse to answer that question. No, Ellis, 
 
 don't threaten me! You think you can jail me. 
 
 309
 
 3 io PLUNDER 
 
 For what? For kidnaping? But I think the 
 young lady will listen to reason, a million dollars' 
 worth of reason, and will refuse to press that 
 charge. For conspiracy in restraint of trade? 
 Prove it! My lawyers will fight for twenty 
 years! Miss Rowland, refuse to answer him." 
 
 "And, Miss Rowland, the alternative is jail for 
 contempt of court," said Ellis. "We have evi- 
 dence that you know of a paper, have a paper, 
 that would convict Martin Masterman and others 
 of agreeing to sell Consolidated 'short' in ad- 
 vance of granting universal transfers. A conspi- 
 racy! Am I correct?" 
 
 "You are not," said Kirby. And while Jack- 
 son and Ellis gasped, Masterman smiled. But 
 only for a moment, for Kirby went on: "Clear 
 the room, Mr. Ellis, of your detectives, and then 
 I will tell you " 
 
 Mack broke his silence. 
 
 "You'll tell him? So help me, if you do, 
 I'll " 
 
 Grant, recovered from the throttling to which 
 he had been subjected in the effort to make Kirby 
 confess to Masterman, wheeled upon the crook.
 
 PLUNDER 311 
 
 "You'll do nothing, Mack," he said softly, 
 "nothing ! You've bragged about being willing to 
 go to the chair for either of us. You'll never 
 see the chair. One threat against Miss Rowland, 
 and I'll save the state expense with my own 
 hands!'* 
 
 Mack stared into eyes as coldly angry as his 
 own were hotly venomous, and gone were his 
 dreams of great wealth. Opportunity had 
 knocked, but she had not paused. He sank down 
 into a chair, and was a mere spectator and auditor 
 of what followed. He held a part no longer. 
 
 Cardigan's voice broke the pause that followed 
 this by-play. 
 
 "Make it more money, Martin!" 
 
 Kirby stilled him. 
 
 "Don't waste your breath," she counseled. 
 Then she looked at her lover. "Will you tell 
 Dick, or shall I?" 
 
 He nodded. 
 
 "Go ahead, Kirby." 
 
 She turned to the attorney-general; her voice 
 was calm, almost unexpressive. 
 
 "Mr. Masterman, Mr. Cardigan and Mr.
 
 3 12 PLUNDER 
 
 Blaisdell signed a paper. In some way that paper 
 got into the hands of Harry Mack there," and 
 she pointed at the slumped figure of the interna- 
 tional crook. "Mack placed it, for some reason 
 or other probably because he was in danger of 
 arrest in the pocket of Mr. Grant. Mr. Grant 
 showed it to me. It seemed to me that with 
 that paper Mr. Grant and I could reconstruct the 
 country. We began by demanding Mr. Master- 
 man to grant universal transfers in this city. 
 We had made further demands that he and his 
 associates reduce railroad fares, the price of coal 
 and food, and that they increase wages. We 
 thought that in this manner the great corpora- 
 tions would be unable to meet expenses and that 
 the government would be compelled to step in and 
 take charge. Which was what we wanted all 
 utilities, all wealth, to be owned by the people. 
 Then Mr. Masterman captured me, and by hurt- 
 ing Mr. Grant, forced me to confess that I had 
 hidden this paper in his vaults, under the name 
 of Margaret Blake." She paused. 
 
 "But the contents of the paper?" demanded 
 Ellis and Jackson almost in the same breath.
 
 PLUNDER 313 
 
 The girl walked to the door and opened it; 
 the detectives and marshals had left the room 
 and were not in the hall. She returned. "It 
 would not do for others to know the contents 
 of this paper," she said. "Too many know it 
 now. Gentlemen, it was an agreement whereby 
 Masterman, Cardigan and Blaisdell agreed to act 
 in concert with certain bankers. They were to 
 cease the mining of coal, cease the production of 
 food, cease the manufacture of all raw materials, 
 call all loans issued by banks to all merchants, 
 reduce all transportation facilities to an absolute 
 minimum ! In short, they were to tie up, not only 
 business, but the function of eating of living, 
 practically. That was the paper !" 
 
 Ellis gasped. 
 
 "But the reason, Masterman, the reason?" 
 
 "To make money, more money. What better 
 reason could we have?" said Masterman. "To 
 make all the money possible to be made. To get 
 the money of this country into the hands of the 
 men who've made this country! If I could have 
 trusted Cardigan and Blaisdell not to betray me 
 by selling stocks short But you can't trust
 
 3 i4 PLUNDER 
 
 anybody in this world but yourself." He glared 
 at Ellis and at Jackson. "Arrest me! Publish 
 the story! And then what will the people say 
 when they learn that half a dozen men could have 
 done what I and my associates proposed doing?" 
 
 Never so tremendous, so virile, so scornful of 
 mere humans had Masterman been, as in this the 
 hour of his defeat. Ellis stepped back from him, 
 staring incredulously at the man whose ruthless 
 motives had at last been disclosed. He spoke 
 softly, incredulously. 
 
 "So this was your plan, Masterman ?" 
 
 He drew a paper from his pocket. "This, 
 Masterman, is a warrant for your arrest." He 
 tore the paper into several pieces, then rose from 
 the chair into which he had dropped. 
 
 "Miss Rowland, may we attend you back to 
 town?" 
 
 Masterman's jaw dropped; Jackson stared; the 
 others stood rigid in amazement. 
 
 "Good lord, Ellis, are you mad?" gasped Jack- 
 son. "Aren't you going to arrest Masterman?" 
 
 The blue eyes of the thin-faced radical who 
 was attorney-general took on a filmy look.
 
 PLUNDER 315 
 
 Prophets scorned have worn that look, a look 
 of communion with something beyond, something 
 greater than this world holds. 
 
 "Arrest him ? Jackson, it's too big ! With that 
 paper I could do anything. I could do as this 
 enthusiastic but misguided young lady hoped to 
 do. I could break the power of money, force 
 government ownership, could create a Utopia. 
 But I won't! 
 
 "Why? Because a Utopia created by force 
 could not last! The people are not ready for it. 
 When they are it will exist already. But the 
 time has not yet come ! Only what God puts into 
 the hearts and minds of men may last for long! 
 Men do not want Utopia! If they wanted it 
 they would have it. By struggle man shall 
 achieve, not by gift ! That is and has been God's 
 law! And a Utopia created but to fail as it 
 inevitably would to-day would postpone the 
 coming of the real Utopia a thousand years. 
 When men are ready for a world for which the 
 Golden Rule shall be sufficient government, that 
 world will be theirs. It can not be forced upon 
 them ahead of God's destined time!
 
 3 i6 PLUNDER 
 
 "Arrest Masterman and let the world know? 
 Masterman is right! The people, with definite 
 proof of the puppets they have always been, 
 would tear down in a day a nation it has taken 
 a century to build ! I will not see it torn down ! 
 Come!" 
 
 "But you can make yourself president," cried 
 Jackson. "I get your point; almost I agree 
 with you ; I do agree with you ! But the power, 
 man, the power! You can win all your cases 
 against the trusts ! You can make a record such 
 as no prosecuting officer has ever made! The 
 White House Ellis, are you mad? Don't pub- 
 lish the paper, but keep it to force Masterman, 
 not to establish government ownership or the 
 Utopia you talk about, but to yield to the laws 
 already established! You will win your 
 cases " 
 
 But Morley Ellis shook his head. 
 
 "While that paper exists the nation is not safe ! 
 I want it destroyed. Some one would find it 
 some day. In whatever place I put it it would 
 be found! The White House? Man dear, that's
 
 PLUNDER 317 
 
 why I want it destroyed! I am ambitious. If 
 the paper were in my possession God knows to 
 what ambition would lead me. I might use this 
 paper to force the moneyed interests to support 
 me. I dare not use it legitimately; I will not use 
 it illegitimately! If I can not enforce the present 
 laws against the trusts with the means provided 
 my office, then I am a failure, and failures do 
 not belong in the White House!" 
 
 He looked at Masterman. 
 
 "In your own heart, Masterman, you are con- 
 victed of being a traitor to your country. You 
 have been false to their kind, and you know it. 
 No words of mine can add to that knowledge. 
 Come!" 
 
 He turned again to Jackson and Kirby, who 
 stood with Grant, staring at a man whom sud- 
 denly they knew to be worthy of standing beside 
 the greatest the nation had produced. 
 
 But Masterman stopped them with an up- 
 raised hand. 
 
 "Ellis, I thought all men were like myself; that 
 all craved power, and merely pretended love for
 
 218 PLUNDER 
 
 "Who you orderin' round?" demanded the de- 
 tective truculently. 
 
 "You," said Hanrahan. "If you aren't on your 
 way in just two seconds, I'm going to hand you 
 something that won't taste a bit nice. Further- 
 more, I'm coming back here later, and if I find 
 you here I'll clean house with you. For your 
 information and edification I'll inform you that 
 when it comes to licking cheap detectives I am 
 the one and only, blown-in-the-bottle, original 
 White Hope. Your two seconds are up. Are 
 you going?" 
 
 "Well, I like your nerve!" began the detective. 
 He didn't speak again for a moment, for Hanra- 
 han's fist colliding with his mouth cut short his 
 words. The reporter bent over the prostrate de- 
 tective. 
 
 "Are you going?" 
 
 "I'll have you pinched," mumbled the man. 
 
 "And I'll get you thirty days for annoying a 
 lady! Are you going?" 
 
 The law is even less kind to annoyers of wom- 
 en than Tom Hanrahan had shown himself. Also 
 it had been impressed upon the Greenham opera-
 
 PLUNDER 219 
 
 lives that secrecy was essential in this present 
 mysterious case. The man shambled off, nursing 
 a bleeding jaw. 
 
 "I'll get you !" he mumbled. "I'll get you yet !" 
 "So will the goblins, if I don't watch out," 
 laughed Hanrahan. He watched the man out of 
 sight, then continued toward the Greenwich 
 Studios. He felt much better. Be he ever so 
 civilized, there is nothing so gratifying to a man 
 as the discovery that he still "packs a punch." 
 Humanity is very human, after all.
 
 3 2o PLUNDER 
 
 "Miss Rowland, to-day my daughter wept 
 because you had gone away. I understand that 
 you are an artist. Could you not come to my 
 house? You are a miniature painter, eh? I 
 would like one of my little girl. Miss Rohan 
 will paint the portrait that shall hang in my study, 
 but you will paint the likeness that I shall always 
 carry with me. Will will you come? It is not 
 Martin Masterman who asks you; not the man 
 you believe to be responsible for the poverty of 
 millions a poverty he will try to remedy, my 
 dear, if you do not ask too much but it is the 
 father of a little girl named Laurel, who loves 
 you, and is unhappy because her new friend has 
 gone away. 
 
 "You think I am a bad old man. Maybe I am, 
 my dear, maybe I am not. At the moment it 
 looks as though I were, and that my whole life 
 has been wrongly employed. But I have only 
 done what others before me, countless others, 
 have done in lesser degrees gained power and 
 forgotten the weak. And even if I am guilty of 
 evil, surely my little daughter is not to blame for
 
 PLUNDER 321 
 
 my sins, sins which shall be balanced by good 
 because Martin Masterman can play the game!" 
 He lifted his shaggy old head. "You had me 
 down, Ellis! You let me up! I was beaten and 
 spared. I do not strike the hand that spared 
 me!" He turned once more to Kirby. "Will 
 you come to Laurel, not to me?" 
 
 Kirby's hand stole out and gripped the fingers 
 of Dick. 
 
 "If if my husband" and she blushed "will 
 let me, I'll come to both." 
 
 Next day Martin Masterman announced the 
 gift of ten million dollars to found recreation 
 parks for the children of the city. The papers 
 which announced this v munificent gift also an- 
 nounced Morley Ellis' great victories over the 
 trusts. The Citizen was the only paper which 
 did not express surprise over the failure of the 
 trusts to fight the government suits; but the Citi- 
 zen gave no reason for its lack of surprise. Even 
 Lindley Jackson, most violent radical, had yielded 
 to the argument of Ellis. 'And he saw, as Ellis 
 saw, that the time was not ripe for a people's
 
 322 PLUNDER 
 
 war; and when it should be ripe; there need be 
 no war. For what belonged to the people would 
 by that time have been given to them. 
 
 Time can not be advanced. God does not 
 hurry. 
 
 THE END
 
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