Constance stood waiting.
 
 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 By 
 WILL IRWIN 
 
 AUTHOR OF 
 
 The City that Was, Etc. 
 
 ILLUSTRATED BY 
 
 MAX J. SPERO 
 
 SYNDICATE PUBLISHING COMPANY 
 
 NEW YORK LONDON
 
 COPYRIGHT 1912 
 THE BOBBS-MERRILL COMPANY
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 1732,, 
 
 CHAPTER 
 
 I THE BOARDERS 1 
 
 II THE CHIEF 27 
 
 
 
 III MBS. HANSKA S STORY 52 
 
 IV A MAN WHO LAI;GKS 74 
 
 V TOMMY NORTH 90 
 
 VI TWIN STARS 106 
 
 VII FACING THE Mvsic . . fc 131 
 
 VIII COQUETTISH McG-EE 155 
 
 IX MOVING THE PAWNS 175 
 
 X A LONE HAND 189 
 
 XI CRYING IT Orr 199 
 
 XII THE PEREZ FAMILY . . 210 
 
 XIII A CRITICAL MOMENT 222 
 
 XIV THE FINAL TEST 236 
 
 XV JOHN TALKS 2i7 
 
 XVI A STROKK or Lrcic 259 
 
 XVII THE LAST SEANCK 275 
 
 XVIII THE THIRD DECREE . 288 
 
 XIX A RI-SE 313 
 
 XX WHEN DIMPLES WIN 329 
 
 XXI TAKING STOCK 352 
 
 XXII HAPPY EVER AFTER 366 
 
 1521066
 
 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 THE BOARDERS 
 
 REGARDING the events of that rainy 
 autumn evening at Mrs. Moore s board 
 ing-house in the far West Twenties of New 
 York, accounts differ somewhat although 
 not enough, after all, but that we may piece 
 together a connected story. Until the great 
 event, they were trivial. It was the reflected 
 light of the tragedy which gave them their 
 importance. 
 
 Most of the boarders remained indoors, since 
 it was too wet in the early evening for faring 
 out-of-doors with comfort. After dinner, 
 Miss Harding and Miss Jones, stenographers, 
 who shared a room-and-alcove on the second 
 floor, entertained "company" in the parlor on 
 the ground floor two young office-mates who 
 
 1
 
 2 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 figure but dimly in this tale. These callers 
 came at eight o clock. A few minutes later 
 Professor Noll joined them. Professor Noll 
 was a diet delusionist, the assistant editor of a 
 health-food magazine. He lived on the third 
 floor, across the hall from Captain Hanska, in 
 a room furnished (as the Captain himself re 
 marked during one of his genial moments ) with 
 all the horrors of home. For Professor Noll 
 had traveled widely, gathering experience and 
 junk; and in every port of the world he had 
 bought freely of gilt-and-trash curios. He 
 was as proud of that bizarre apartment as 
 though it had been the Louvre. A charming 
 old man was Professor Noll when he dis 
 mounted from his hobby and occasionally 
 when he rode it, too. A thick tangle of silver- 
 silk hair and a little pair of china-blue eyes 
 accented a personality all innocence, gaiety, 
 and old-age prattle. 
 
 Miss Harding and Miss Jones had not ar 
 rived at that point with their young men where 
 they wanted to visit alone. When Professor 
 Noll entered and suggested music, they wel 
 comed him. He sat down to the piano, there 
 fore, and they all sang the foolish ephemeral
 
 THE BOARDERS 3 
 
 songs of the picture-shows. Mrs. Moore stood 
 in the hall for a time, listening. Miss Jones 
 spied her and invited her in. She was a land 
 lady of the lugubrious type; she wept silently 
 over the sentimental passages with rhymes on 
 "posey," "cosey" and "proposey"; and even 
 tually she joined her voice with the singing. 
 Once or twice she left momentarily to look 
 after towels, furnace-heat and other house 
 wifely cares. One of these tours took her to 
 the top of the house, where Miss Estrilla, the 
 lady sick with weak eyes, lived in a half -dark 
 ened rear room. She was a newcomer, this 
 Miss Estrilla, and not yet well enough to take 
 her meals in the dining-room. Miss Estrilla s 
 brother, a slim, mercurial little Latin with an 
 entertaining trick of the tongue, was reading 
 to her by a shaded lamp, as he often did of 
 evenings. When Mrs. Moore rejoined the 
 others, they were singing full-voice. 
 
 On the stairs Mrs. Moore met Captain Han- 
 ska passing up from his late and solitary din 
 ner. He was a little irregular about meals; 
 and this evening he had come in, demanding 
 dinner, after everything was cleared away. 
 Half the boarding-house liked Captain Han-
 
 4 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 ska, and half disliked him. Rather ( and more 
 accurately) all half -liked and half -hated him. 
 A large man, of forty-five or so, he looked at 
 first sight rather bloated, and at second only 
 gross and big through the accumulation of 
 middle-aged muscle and the thicker flow of 
 middle-aged blood. He was bull-necked, 
 broad-shouldered, wide of waist and heavy of 
 leg. Everything about him denoted old 
 strength gone stale. In face he showed the 
 traces of what must have been great youthful 
 comeliness. Even now, he had an eye which 
 could be both keen and kind when his mood was 
 gentle. Those moods of his puzzled every 
 one. No man could be more irritable at times ; 
 yet, none, as all the feminine part of the house 
 testified, could be more charming, more under 
 standing of women. There was a curious qual 
 ity beneath all that, a quality which none of 
 Mrs. Moore s boarders had the discernment to 
 formulate. It was as though some inner driv 
 ing energy sought an outlet, and found no way 
 through that accumulation of flesh and blood 
 and muscle. 
 
 Before he started up the stairs, he paused an
 
 THE BOARDERS 5 
 
 instant at the parlor door and looked upon the 
 singers. 
 
 "Come on in the water s fine!" called Miss 
 Harding jocularly. 
 
 Captain Hanska returned no answer. Ap 
 parently one of his sardonic gibes was on his 
 lips, but he let it die there. And he turned 
 away. 
 
 "He can cer-tainly be a grouch when he 
 wants to," said Miss Harding, as though apolo 
 gizing to the young men. 
 
 "Fierce!" exclaimed Miss Jones. And they 
 resumed their singing. As Captain Hanska 
 passed Mrs. Moore on the lower flight of stairs, 
 his head was bent and he gave no sign of recog 
 nition. 
 
 Mrs. Moore did not leave the parlor, she 
 testified afterward, until Mr. Lawrence Wade 
 called, asking for Captain Hanska. As on 
 previous occasions, he gave her his card, which 
 read: "Mr. Lawrence Wade, Curfew Club." 
 He had called before; whether two or three 
 times, Mrs. Moore s memory would never serve 
 to tell. But she recognized him perfectly 
 she would have known him anywhere, she said.
 
 6 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 "Gee, who s your swell friend he cer-tainly 
 could lead me up blushing to the altar," had 
 been Miss Harding s tribute the first time she 
 saw him. For he was very comely a comeli 
 ness that was a perfect blend of caste and char 
 acter. And that night she flashed a languish 
 ing roll of her big eyes after the tall figure as 
 it disappeared. "That fellow would do for a 
 clothing house ad our collars fit round the 
 neck !" she whispered to the company ; where 
 upon every one giggled. 
 
 Mrs. Moore carried the card to Captain 
 Hanska s room on the third floor. 
 
 "What is it?" he growled, as she knocked. 
 
 "Mr. Wade to see you," she replied. 
 
 She remembered afterward that he paused 
 for an instant before he answered; also she 
 heard a rustling as though some one were mov 
 ing about. 
 
 "I ve gone to bed," he said after the pause. 
 "Where is he? Down-stairs?" 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 "Then show him up," said the Captain, "but 
 say I ve gone to bed." 
 
 Mrs. Moore turned back to summon Mr.
 
 THE BOARDERS 7 
 
 Wade; as she did so, Mr. Estrilla came down 
 from the floor above. 
 
 "Oh, good evening, Mr. Estrilla!" said Mrs. 
 Moore. "Did your sister " 
 
 Just then the voice of Captain Hanska broke 
 in from behind the door. 
 
 "Wait a minute. Ask Mr. Wade if he 
 minds my not getting up. I ve a cold and I ve 
 taken some medicine." 
 
 "Very well, Captain," replied Mrs. Moore. 
 Estrilla, seeing that she was engaged, went on 
 down-stairs to the front door. 
 
 This narrative has gone, so far, from the 
 point of view of Mrs. Moore. We will shift 
 now to Miss Harding ; for a time let her mind 
 be the crystal of our thought. We shall find 
 it a scattering and superficial mind, but fur 
 nished forth with good memory, the trick of 
 observation, and an instinct for concrete ex 
 pression. A moment before Mrs. Moore came 
 back and told Mr. Wade that Captain Hanska 
 would see him, Mr. Estrilla appeared at the 
 door of the parlor. Although they had seen 
 but little of him at Mrs. Moore s, he was popu 
 lar for a Latin Lightness of temperament, a
 
 8 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 cheerful and winning smile, a nimble wit which 
 lost nothing because of his quaint accent, and 
 various, winsome, actor tricks which Mrs. 
 Moore called "capers." At that moment they 
 were singing Yip-hi-addy-hi-ay, then in its first 
 run. Mr. Estrilla, bundled up in hat and 
 mackintosh, cut a curvet in the hall, kicked out 
 one of his small Andalusian feet, joined a note 
 of the chorus in a pleasant, light, tenor voice, 
 changed to a falsetto tone which was plainly an 
 imitation of Miss Harding s singing, arid 
 whirled toward the outer door. Miss Harding 
 called : 
 
 "Come in and sing!" But Mr. Estrilla only 
 pivoted through the door, calling : 
 "Buenas noches yip-hi-addy-hi-ay !" 
 Perhaps five minutes later, Miss Harding 
 went up-stairs for a handkerchief. For a mo 
 ment she was absent-minded a rare thing with 
 her so that instead of turning on the second 
 floor, where her room was situated, she con 
 tinued another flight and brought up, suddenly 
 aware of her mistake, at the third-floor landing. 
 Something held her there for a moment the 
 sound of high words from Captain Hanska s 
 room. Miss Harding paused longer than nee-
 
 THE BOARDERS 9 
 
 essary. She was an honorable girl enough, 
 but the most honorable of us pay instinctive 
 tribute to our curiosity. 
 
 "I tell you both I won t," came Captain 
 Hanska s rather harsh voice. 
 
 "Oh, I think perhaps I can make you change 
 your mind," came other accents which, Miss 
 Harding reflected, went perfectly with the per 
 sonality of Mr. Lawrence Wade. 
 
 "Some sort of a rumpus going on up there," 
 said Miss Harding as she regained the parlor. 
 Then remembering that she must account to 
 Miss Jones for her presence on the third floor 
 the bachelor quarters of the establishment 
 she added vaguely, "You can hear it just as 
 plain!" 
 
 They had all stopped singing from very 
 weariness of voice, and Mrs. Moore and Pro 
 fessor Noll had retired to leave the young 
 couples alone with their devices, when Mr. 
 Wade appeared again in the hall this time on 
 his way out. Every one saw him plainly, espe 
 cially Miss Harding, who sat facing the door. 
 
 "Look, who s here, Essie!" she whispered in 
 an undertone to Miss Jones. As she recalled 
 it afterward, he seemed a little pale. He cast
 
 10 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 no more than one quick absent glance at the 
 group by the piano ; and the door closed behind 
 him. 
 
 Mrs. Moore had gone to bed on the ground 
 floor. But Professor Noll did not retire im 
 mediately. A basic principle of the Noll 
 Scientific Plan of Diet was light alimentation 
 before retiring. By his special arrangement 
 with Mrs. Moore, the maid, after cleaning up 
 from dinner, always left a glass of hygienic but 
 termilk and two protose biscuits on the side 
 board. Professor Noll ate slowly, glancing at 
 his watch now and then that he might assure 
 himself as to the ptoper timing on each mouth 
 ful. So he did not go up-stairs until just be 
 fore the company left. Captain Hanska, as I 
 have said, lived just across the hall from him. 
 The light was out in the Captain s room, he 
 remembered, and everything seemed quiet. 
 Nothing, he testified afterward, happened to 
 disturb his sleep; "however," he managed to 
 throw in "scientific diet makes sound slum 
 ber." Within ten minutes, the "company" left 
 and the young women went to their room. 
 There was silence in the house. 
 
 Silence until half past two o clock and then
 
 THE BOARDERS 11 
 
 Tommy North, who occupied the third floor 
 front, came home from a stag smoker drunk. 
 
 He stood at a parlous cross-road of his life, 
 this Tommy North. He was an attractive 
 young man stubby, bright-eyed, red-headed, 
 quick-tongued, and twenty-eight. His busi 
 ness of writing and selling advertising gave him 
 all kinds of contact with all kinds of attractive 
 people who liked him for his flashes of wit and 
 his genuine warmth of heart. They were the 
 kind of people, unfortunately, who conduct 
 their social life before gilded bars, or about 
 luxurious cafe tables. So it happened that 
 Tommy was sowing wild oats and irrigating 
 them with good liquor; and they had begun to 
 sprout in his system. This was not the first 
 time that he had returned, uncertain of tongue 
 and foot, in the hours of vice. On the last oc 
 casion, he made so much noise that Miss Hard 
 ing refused him her countenance for a week 
 and Mrs. Moore gave him warning. That 
 warning, rested at the bottom of his maudlin 
 psychology as he crept up to the front door, 
 unlocked it, and stole within. 
 
 "Must avoid disgrace," he muttered to him 
 self; "awful brand on young manhood. Fair
 
 12 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 women avoid me. Pestilence." At this 
 thought, he dropped a tear. Suddenly, his 
 mind turned full revolution and the situation 
 occurred to him as ridiculous. Whereat he 
 laughed beneath his breath, as he thought. 
 The vigilant Mrs. Moore, who woke at every 
 night entrance of lodgers, heard that raucous 
 laughter. She leaped out of bed, opened her 
 door a crack, and observed Tommy as he stood 
 balancing himself under the dim point of the 
 gas-jet. Oblivious to the open door and the 
 watchful eye, he made a turn about the newel- 
 post and began putting one foot cautiously 
 before the other, saying over and over a 
 drunken refrain which ran : 
 
 "Hay foot straw foot one goes up and the 
 other goes down." So he vanished from the 
 vision of Mrs. Moore. By similar devices he 
 negotiated the stretch of hall carpet on the sec 
 ond floor, and took the next flight. He was 
 near his haven now his own room, third floor 
 front. In the dim hall light, he balanced him 
 self and let his tongue play again. 
 
 "Energy and perseverance victory almost 
 won," he said. "Just talk to your feet and 
 let em do your work." But the muscular ef-
 
 THE BOARDERS 13 
 
 fort of climbing two flights had sent his liquor 
 surging to his head, so that he dizzied and stag 
 gered. He caught the banister for support. 
 Then something, real or fancied, caught his eye 
 something which held his drunken attention. 
 He stooped and clutched at it. The effort 
 overbalanced him and sent him sprawling on 
 his hands into some wet sticky substance. 
 
 "Fearful careless housekeeping," he said as 
 he regained his feet, "forces me to extreme 
 measure wiping hands on shirt. No other 
 place to wipe hands. Renewed necessity 
 arises" he stopped and repeated the phrase 
 with inordinate delight "renewed necessity 
 for reaching own room." He took the last 
 three yards in a series of staggering bounds 
 which landed him with a thump against his 
 door. He caught the knob as he fell, and the 
 barrier opened, letting him tumble on his own 
 motion to the floor. He kicked the door shut 
 as he lay prostrate, and then managed to pull 
 himself upright and reach the eledtric-light but 
 ton for Mrs. Moore burned gas in the halls 
 for economy, but electric lights in the rooms. 
 The two tumbles had thrown him into another 
 state of consciousness; his head began to clear
 
 14 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 and his motions to steady. So he turned, his 
 predicament still in his mind, to the wash-stand 
 in the corner. 
 
 Above it hung a mirror. In passing, 
 Tommy s gaze swept the glass, leaped back, 
 caught on what blanched his face to a sickly 
 white, what steadied his unsteady figure until 
 it stood straight and stiff, what cleared his head 
 so violently that he could think with all the 
 swiftness of terror. 
 
 On his dress shirt-front was the imprint of a 
 huge red hand. 
 
 "Whose?" Tommy asked himself one in 
 stant. The next, his gaze bounded from the 
 mirror to his own hands. 
 
 Blood mired his fingers. On his coat was 
 blood, on his sleeve was blood, on his knees was 
 blood, on his very shoes. He looked at the 
 mirror again. Across his chin zigzagged a 
 dark red line blood also. 
 
 His first sane thought was that he had cut 
 himself, and was bleeding to death. He looked 
 again at his hands, but saw no wound. Then, 
 drunken memories lingering a little in his sober 
 mind, he remembered the fall and the process 
 of wiping his hands. He ran back to the hall-
 
 THE BOARDERS 15 
 
 way, turned up the pin-point of light on the 
 gas-jet. There it was, a thin stream of blood, 
 spotted a little where he had fallen in it. And 
 it was widest where it began its flow at the 
 threshold of Captain Hanska s door. In a 
 weak access of real terror, he fell to pounding 
 on the wall and shouting: 
 
 "Murder! Murder!" 
 
 Suddenly mastering himself, he seized the 
 knob of Captain Hanska s door. The latch 
 gave way it was not locked. But it opened 
 no more than a foot or two scarcely enough 
 to give a man passage when something 
 blocked it from behind. In the temporary 
 weakness of his will, Tommy North shrank 
 back from entering such a place of veritable 
 horror. He shouted again; and now Profes 
 sor Noll, looking in his bathrobe like a strange 
 priest of a strange Eastern rite, rushed from 
 his room gaspktg: 
 
 "What s the natter?" 
 
 The blood, the pale, gibbering, dabbled 
 young man, >vere explanation enough. He 
 himself opened the door as far as it could go, 
 and edged into the room. 
 
 "Matched, quick!" he called from within.
 
 16 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 Tommy North found his match-case; and the 
 mastery of another mind, with the example of 
 better courage, drew him after Professor Noll. 
 He lighted a match, held it up. It flared and 
 blazed until it burned his ringers. In that flick 
 ering transitory light they saw all that it was 
 necessary to see. 
 
 Captain Hanska s body blocked the door. 
 He lay dressed in his pajamas, the shrunken 
 relic of what had been a portly man lay on 
 his back with his hands lifted over his head as 
 though he were clutching at the air. From his 
 breast stuck the haft of a great knife ; and from 
 the wound the pool of blood flowed to the 
 threshold. The match went out; and with a 
 common impulse Tommy North and Professor 
 Noll struggled to see who would be first to get 
 back through that door. 
 
 There followed alarms, screams, the running 
 of women, hysterics on the part of Mrs. Moore, 
 who had started from bed at Tommy s first 
 cry. Tommy North, albeit ordinarily a brave 
 and resourceful young man enough, was of no 
 use in this crisis, what with the compression of 
 ten emotional years into ten minutes of life. 
 Worse for him, the hen-minded Mrs. Moore,
 
 THE BOARDERS 17 
 
 seeing the blood, cried, "You murderer!" 
 clutched at his coat, and fell into a faint. 
 Upon Professor Noll devolved the masculine 
 guidance of this affair. And he thought first, 
 not of the police, but of a doctor. By this 
 time, Miss Harding and Miss Jones were weep 
 ing breast to breast ; Mrs. Moore had recovered 
 to say that she always expected it of Mr. 
 North, and Miss Estrilla, the invalid lady on 
 the top floor, had called from the head of the 
 stairs, "What is it ?" With the brutality which 
 impels us in crises to confide unpalliated hor 
 rors, some one shrieked, "Hanska s murdered!" 
 There came from above some Spanish ejacula 
 tions to which no one paid much attention, and 
 then a rattling of the hook of the telephone, 
 which hung on a door-post in that fourth-floor 
 hall. 
 
 Professor Noll, his mind still on the necessity 
 for calling a doctor, slipped into ulster and bed- 
 shoes and rushed across the street to rouse the 
 house physician in the apartment-hotel. He 
 was some time making himself known and 
 understood. As he neared his own door again, 
 he saw Mr. Estrilla entering almost on the 
 run.
 
 18 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 "There s been a murder ! Captain Hanska s 
 killed!" Professor Noll called after him. 
 
 "I know my seester telephone she is 
 frighten , Estrilla called back shrilly over his 
 shoulder. And he hurried up the stairs. 
 
 By this time, the open door, the fluttering 
 lights, the screams and hysterics, had begun to 
 attract the attention of this and that late pedes 
 trian. A milkman pulled up, hitched, and 
 entered; and then a night-faring printer. 
 Presently the little knot in the street and the 
 parlors was augmented by a woman, fully and 
 rather over-luxuriously dressed, as though for 
 the theater a big picture hat and a black satin, 
 fur-edged evening coat over a light gown which 
 showed here and there the glitter of sequins. 
 She was a large but shapely woman of uncer 
 tain age ; yet so pleasing withal that the gather 
 ing loafers, even in the excitement of a mur 
 der, spared a few admiring glances at her face. 
 Her expression changed momentarily with each 
 sound from above; and with these changes the 
 ghost of a line of dimples played about her 
 generous mobile mouth. The mouth, the dim 
 ples, the peaked chin, the rather small straight 
 nose, all appeared in strange contrast to her
 
 THE BOARDERS 19 
 
 large light eyes, which arrested attention at 
 once through a curious appearance of looking 
 far away. 
 
 The printer and the milkman hastened to tell 
 her their news. Some row was on up there; 
 they d overheard something about a murder. 
 At that word, the strange woman with quick 
 efficient gestures, drew off her long evening 
 gloves, straightened out the fingers, rolled them 
 into a neat ball, and put them away in her 
 muff. 
 
 "I m goin up," she confided to her fellows. 
 "I belong there they need a sensible woman, 
 from the way they re screechin . You better 
 not follow you ll do no good an it might git 
 you involved." With surprising lightness, 
 considering her bulk, she mounted the stairs. 
 
 The noise guided her to the focus of interest ; 
 she pushed her way into the room of the late 
 Captain Hanska, and stood looking about with 
 a pair of large serious eyes which took in every 
 detail. She bent her gaze on the dead man, 
 stooped, made quick examination, first of the 
 wound and then of his face. Both Mrs. Moore 
 and Miss Harding were about to ask this 
 stranger to account for herself, when the doc-
 
 20 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 tor, half-dressed but carrying his bag, edged 
 past the door. All turned to him. He looked 
 but an instant on the face. 
 
 "He s dead," he said calmly and briefly. 
 
 At this confirmation of what every one al 
 ready knew, Mrs. Moore fainted again 
 tumbled into the arms of Miss Harding. Miss 
 Jones, with a feeling that she must do the right 
 thing now that the doctor was looking, rushed 
 over and opened both windows. If Mrs. 
 Moore expected attention from the doctor, she 
 was balked. He was making a more careful 
 examination and that lady gradually revived 
 of her own motion. 
 
 "He has been dead for some time not long 
 enough for rigor mortis to set in, but he s cold 
 and the blood has begun to congeal," he said at 
 length. "Has any one notified the police? 
 Has any one called up a Coroner?" 
 
 "I ll attend to that," volunteered the strange 
 woman, with an air of perfect competence and 
 command; "where s the phone ground floor 
 and top floor hall? All right; I ll use the top 
 floor; that s nearer. Any particular Coroner, 
 Doctor? Lipschutz? All right." 
 
 The doctor gave a look of inquiry at her rai-
 
 THE BOARDERS 21 
 
 ment, so grotesquely mismatched with such a 
 scene. Tommy North, already perceiving 
 what might happen to a young man caught all 
 blood-smeared in proximity to a murder, threw 
 a quick appealing glance of his own. The 
 woman seemed to catch the inquiry and the 
 appeal. 
 
 "Don t you worry, young man. I ve got no 
 connection with the police, an if you didn t do 
 this thing you re all right," and then to the 
 doctor : "My name is Madame Le Grange, I 
 own the house at 442 across the street. 
 Never mind, my dear " this to Miss Harding, 
 who showed signs of coming out of her stupor 
 and following. With a businesslike air, she 
 bustled up-stairs, called police headquarters, 
 informed them there had been a murder at 445 
 and the doctor wanted Coroner Lipschutz 
 also, they had better send some policemen. 
 This done, she spent a moment in thought be 
 fore she descended. 
 
 In the hall, she met the regular patrolman, 
 who had received the news at last. The limb 
 of the law had forbidden the augmented crowd 
 at the door to follow him; he was ascending 
 alone. The sight of this woman in her fash-
 
 22 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 ionable clothes or was it her compelling look 
 of command stopped him. 
 
 "Listen," she said, "there s only a second. 
 Never mind who I am. Look at this." She 
 produced the old and worn piece of paper 
 which she had drawn from her bag a minute 
 before. 
 
 "To the police," it read. "Any matter that 
 concerns the bearer, Mrs. Rosalie Le Grange, 
 is to be referred to me. I request you to give 
 her the greatest discretion. 
 
 "INSPECTOR MARTIN McGEE." 
 
 "Not a word," pursued Rosalie Le Grange. 
 "Now mind I didn t see this thing, an I don t 
 know as much about it as you. But it s your 
 job to tip me off to the reserves as soon as they 
 come make them understand that they ain t 
 to stop me whatever I do. And remember" 
 now the woman smiled in a meaning way 
 "you got here just as quick as you could not 
 a second later I ll stick to that. Now get 
 inside." She waited a moment, before she 
 followed him. 
 
 Tommy North, fairly green now, was sitting
 
 THE BOARDERS 23 
 
 on a couch in his ghastly raiment. At that 
 moment, Senor Estrilla came down the stairs 
 from his sister s room. He had opened his 
 raincoat, but it was still wet. He had turned 
 up his hat brim, but an occasional drop fell. 
 
 "My seester is better," he said. "Oh, can I 
 assist ?" And while he helped the men to cover 
 the body, he listened to scattered explanations 
 from the women. 
 
 Now the reserves had come ; and after them, 
 the Coroner and the detectives. They cleared 
 out the house, holding only those who seemed 
 to them pertinent witnesses. At a signal from 
 Rosalie Le Grange they detained her for a 
 time, on the ground that she had arrived suspi 
 ciously early. The first unorganized search 
 for the criminal simmered down to Tommy 
 North, although even Mrs. Moore admitted 
 that he had entered only a minute before the 
 body was discovered. In the midst of the in 
 vestigation, a new quandary presented itself. 
 The house was to be sealed while the police in 
 vestigated. The innocent would have to find 
 some other dwelling-place. That suited her, 
 Miss Harding remarked; she wouldn t sleep 
 there again ; whereupon Mrs. Moore, declaring
 
 24 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 she was ruined, fell again to weeping. And 
 suddenly she who called herself Madame Le 
 Grange stepped forward into the huddled dis 
 tressed group. 
 
 "I haven t introduced myself," she said, with 
 easy masterful calm, "but I ve just opened the 
 house at 442 as a boarding-house. You ain t 
 going to hold me, of course" this to the police 
 "and, anyhow, you know where to find me in 
 case you want me. There s room to-night in 
 my house for you all." She turned, with her 
 eternal air of mistress in any situation, to Miss 
 Harding. "Come, dress and pack up your 
 night things, my dear. We can move your 
 trunks to-morrow." Mechanically, Miss 
 Harding obeyed, and then Miss Jones. Sud 
 denly Mr. Estrilla, who had been ministering 
 to Mrs. Moore by the door, spoke up and asked : 
 
 "My seester, too?" 
 
 "She s sick, ain t she?" inquired Mrs. Le 
 Grange, as if for an instant that gave her pause. 
 "Then the poor thing needs it worst of all!" 
 she answered her own argument. "Come on!" 
 She dashed away, lightly in spite of her bulk, 
 Estrilla following. 
 
 While Rosalie Le Grange was preparing to
 
 THE BOARDERS 25 
 
 move the invalid on the top floor, the police and 
 the Coroner straightened out affairs a little. 
 There was much man in Tommy North. If he 
 had played the craven in the first rush of his 
 gruesome discovery, it was because he had wak 
 ened to that state of tense depression which 
 comes with the sudden departure of drunken 
 ness. He became defiant now ; whereupon the 
 police began to bully. While they were trying 
 to make Mrs. Moore admit that she had not 
 seen Tommy North come up the stairs, a de 
 tective sergeant put a sneering question to 
 her 
 
 "Well, who else could have done it? Who 
 else has been here?" 
 
 And the inrush of memory brought a little 
 shriek from Mrs. Moore. 
 
 "Mr. Wade the gentleman who called to 
 night!" she cried. All at once her suspicions 
 left the branded Mr. North. Mr. Wade had 
 come late in the evening and that, in the doc 
 tor s opinion, was just about the time when 
 Captain Hanska must have died. Mr. Wade 
 had called two or three times before, always at 
 night. Trembling, she found his card, "Law 
 rence Wade, Curfew Club," in the plated tray
 
 26 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 at the hall door. Suddenly Miss Harding, who 
 had been refusing all light on the events of the 
 evening, gave a little shriek. 
 
 "Why, they were quarreling when I went " 
 she cried. Then she stopped, as though fearful 
 of her own words. The police turned on her. 
 In a tumble of words and emotions, she told 
 what she knew. Mr. Wade s late call, the 
 high words, the fact that none had heard a 
 sound from Captain Hanska s room after 
 Wade left the house that was enough for the 
 Coroner and the detectives. They packed 
 Tommy North sober, pale, but now thor 
 oughly collected into the patrol wagon, sent 
 the hue and cry to the Curfew Club after Mr. 
 Wade, put the house under guard, and called 
 their day s work done. 
 
 And the rest of the Moore establishment, 
 having first received dreadful warning concern 
 ing the fate of absconding witnesses, finished 
 that uneasy night under the ministrations of 
 Rosalie Le Grange at 442.
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 THE CHIEF 
 
 INSPECTOR MARTIN M GEE, the 
 middle-aged solid executive of the New 
 York detectives, sat in his businesslike office 
 running over the reports on the Hanska mur 
 der, now less than a calendar day old but al 
 ready the subject of those innumerable extras 
 which the newsboys were shouting under his 
 windows. Nothing in the formal documents 
 before him served to give him any new light. 
 Thomas North, advertising agent, at present 
 locked up to await examination, had announced 
 discovery of the murder. When he made the 
 announcement, he was spotted and daubed with 
 blood. Captain Hanska had then been dead 
 at least an hour. For the period in which Han 
 ska must have, died, North proved a perfect 
 alibi unless the landlady, or North s compan 
 ions at the annual smoker of the Carekillers, 
 had lied to the detectives. Lawrence Wade 
 
 27
 
 28 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 that looked like the man. Wade was missing 
 from the Curfew Club when the police arrived ; 
 however, through the good memories of a taxi- 
 cab driver and a ticket seller, he had been 
 traced to Boston and there arrested in the very 
 act of engaging European passage. 
 
 Wade had visited Hanska at about the time 
 of the murder "as shown by the condition of 
 the body." Wade admitted that fact. "I 
 was there on business for a friend," he said. 
 Pressed to explain why he had made such a 
 sudden trip out of town, he declined to answer. 
 He knew his legal rights he was a lawyer it 
 appeared and he would give no further ex 
 planation. Lawrence Wade it must be un 
 less this proved an "inside job." The windows 
 of Captain Hanska s room were both fastened 
 when North discovered the murder, but his 
 outer door, leading into the hall, was unlocked. 
 There were no signs of any entrance by the 
 front door or the basement door. By night, 
 Wade and North must go on the carpet for a 
 little touch of the Third Degree. Inspector 
 McGee was a firm believer in that same Third 
 Degree. Lecoq tactics lie distrusted, with the
 
 THE CHIEF 29 
 
 distrust of a narrow man for the other man s 
 weapons. 
 
 But the formal documents in the Hanska 
 case interested Inspector McGee less, a great 
 deal less, than an informal verbal report made 
 that morning by the sergeant in command of 
 the reserves. 
 
 "We didn t know nothing about her, Chief," 
 he said, "except that she had an order from you 
 telling us to keep our hooks off her. Forgot 
 the name something French with a L e be 
 hind it. It was all right, wasn t it ?" 
 
 Inspector McGee understood at once; and 
 the information brought a little thrill. He had 
 given only two such papers in his career; and 
 the other was held by a man. So Rosalie Le 
 Grange had bobbed up again Rosalie Le 
 Grange, trance, test and clairvoyant medium, 
 follower of a small half-criminal trade but 
 friend of society against larger criminals. 
 How curiously that woman had glanced in and 
 out of his life, and what luck she had brought ! 
 His first success, for example the solution of 
 the Heywood murder, which had raised him 
 from plain detective to detective sergeant.
 
 30 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 None but him and her knew how Rosalie Le 
 Grange had cleared up that important case by 
 her knowledge and shrewdness, and had slipped 
 out of it in the dramatic moment, leaving to 
 him the credit. Then the Martin case, which 
 had helped make him a captain the McGre 
 gor diamond case half a dozen smaller cases, 
 all successes and all redounding greatly to 
 his reputation. For three years now she had 
 been completely out of his world. Once a 
 vague rumor that she was very prosperous had 
 set him wondering with a little regret whether 
 she had fallen to tricking big dupes. In old 
 years, she always affected to despise that proc 
 ess. 
 
 Here she was again, mysterious and dramat 
 ic, still, at the very focus of another big case. 
 The heavy lips of Martin McGee relaxed in a 
 smile of unaccustomed sweetness as he thought 
 on her, and less on her talents and her benefi 
 cent influence over his career than on her look 
 and move and joy in life. He recalled her as 
 she stepped into his career ten years ago 
 plump but shapely; dimpled, brown-haired, 
 marvelous in the compelling expression of her 
 gray eyes. He recalled the Rosalie of three
 
 THE CHIEF 31 
 
 years ago still shapely but now touched with 
 age and powdered with gray. From among 
 the half -forgotten memories of a busy and 
 rather brutal life, she stirred into full vision. 
 Inspector McGee was forty-eight years old; 
 and that period is the Indian summer of 
 romance. He found himself looking forward 
 to their next meeting. 
 
 And as he bent over his desk in unaccustomed 
 meditation, the hour of that meeting was come. 
 The doorman brought a card "Mme. Rosalie 
 Le Grange" and behind him she appeared. 
 
 Any woman who had known the Rosalie Le 
 Grange of Inspector McGee s recollections 
 would have read new prosperity into her at first 
 glance. Then, her shirt-waists, always immac 
 ulately neat, were of cheap lawn; now, her 
 modest waist was chiffon and Cluny hung over 
 a figured silk. Her suit had that perfect tail 
 ored simplicity which only genius achieves. 
 Her hat was unobtrusive, but any discrimina 
 ting feminine eye would have seen that Verre 
 made it; and Verre comes high. These signs 
 of wealth escaped Martin McGee. The proof 
 to him was more tangible the diamond pen 
 dant at her throat, the rings on her fingers.
 
 32 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 He noted these little brothers of prosperity 
 before he perceived how much younger she ap 
 peared in face and figure than when he saw her 
 last. Being mere male man, he could not un 
 derstand that this false youth was born and 
 bred of the modiste, the milliner and the mas 
 seuse. 
 
 "Well, well!" exclaimed Martin McGee, ris 
 ing as though to some great personage, "back 
 again! Say, you just couldn t keep out of big 
 doings, could you? And how pretty you look 
 prettier and prettier all the time! What 
 hauled you into the Hanska case?" 
 
 "I ain t in the Hanska case at all," responded 
 Rosalie Le Grange, answering his second ques 
 tion first, "at least not deep, Martin McGee." 
 She flashed upon him her dimples, snapped at 
 him her great gray eyes. "When a person is 
 comin home late from a supper with an actress 
 friend an sees a door open and hears people 
 talking on the inside with remarks about mur 
 der and police, she investigates. Which I 
 done. An when she finds a lot of human hens 
 runnin around like their heads was cut off, she 
 helps straighten things out. I was never right 
 up close to a murder before." She paused a
 
 THE CHIEF 33 
 
 minute, her dimples faded and the lines of her 
 face feU. "Ugh!" she shuddered with the 
 memory. 
 
 "That," said Martin McGee, "is what I d 
 call a coincidence." 
 
 "Coincidence!" repeated Rosalie Le Grange 
 with fine scorn, "now you look here, Inspector 
 McGee, there ain t any such thing as coinci 
 dences any more than there s such a thing as 
 luck. No, Martin McGee. Nearly every 
 body that s lived long enough in New York 
 has had a murder or a burglary or something in 
 the same block. It was bound to happen to me 
 in time. It happened ; and instead of minding 
 my own business like the rest, I butted straight 
 in. When the reasons for a thing get too 
 tangled-up for you and me to follow, we stick 
 a label on it an call it luck. But there," she 
 checked herself, "this is just one of my plat 
 form inspirational talks like I used to give the 
 sitters in my test seances. Only then I laid it 
 to the spirits. Now I lay it to Rosalie Le 
 Grange." 
 
 "Used to?" echoed Inspector McGee. 
 "Does that mean you ve cut it out?" 
 
 "Well, do these clothes and this five-dollar-
 
 34 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 an-hour massage on my poor old face look like 
 I got em from sitters at two dollars a throw?" 
 inquired Rosalie Le Grange. "Say, ask me 
 about it, please. I m dying to tell." 
 
 "All right; I ve asked," responded Martin 
 McGee, a kind of dull fire illuminating his 
 clean-shaven jowly police countenance. 
 
 "Now," said Rosalie Le Grange, "I m going 
 to astonish you, Marty McGee. I got it from 
 Robert H. Norcross the railroad king." 
 
 McGee s face fell. This mascot of his, this 
 curious good fairy who had skipped in and out 
 of his career, scattering golden successes, was a 
 kind of an ideal. That she should "work" a 
 doddering millionaire as Norcross had been in 
 his last years for the tainted coin of aged 
 folly, was a blow to what idealism an Inspec 
 tor of detectives may hope still to cherish. 
 Rosalie, skilled from youth to catch and inter 
 pret the unconsidered expression of the human 
 countenance, read his emotion at once. 
 
 "Now, I don t mean at all what you mean, 
 Martin McGee," she said. "Listen. It don t 
 matter what I did, or how I did it but I saved 
 this Robert H. Norcross from makin about 
 the biggest kind of a fool out of himself.
 
 THE CHIEF 35 
 
 There s more things get by the police than get 
 to em, Inspector Martin McGee. Especially 
 in the medium game. Norcross was caught., 
 I tell you. Ever hear of Mrs. Paula Mark- 
 ham?" 
 
 "The woman who skipped to Paris after the 
 Warfield affair?" asked McGee. Rosalie 
 nodded. 
 
 "And a great medium, too," she said, "but 
 also a great crook. Well she had Robert Nor 
 cross, I tell you." Rosalie extended one of her 
 creamed-and-polished hands. She closed the 
 fingers gradually, into one pink, adorable, tight 
 fist. "Just like that," she said. "He was the 
 right age to be worked by a medium. And 
 think of the stake ! The newspapers said when 
 he died that his estate was smaller than any 
 body thought. But it was seventy-five mil 
 lions. Mrs. Markham had him and them. 
 An I broke that grip. It ain t necessary for 
 me to say how. Funny thing was I didn t do 
 it for Norcross at all, but just for a little blue- 
 eyed fool of a girl in love. Well, anyhow, 
 when he woke up and realized the narrow shave 
 he had, Mr. Norcross began to investigate, an 
 found what I d done. Do you remember," she
 
 36 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 asked suddenly, "that they probated the Nor- 
 cross will secret? Nobody ever knew exactly 
 what he did with his money, except his nephew 
 got most of it." 
 
 "I remember," said Inspector McGee. And 
 then, on a sudden burst of laughter, "Gee! 
 Wouldn t the newspapers give a heap to get 
 this story you re going to tell !" 
 
 "They would," responded Rosalie Le 
 Grange, "and that s why you ll never breathe a 
 word to a soul. But there! I always knew 
 who I could trust an you re one of em. The 
 reason was a codicil or whatever you call it. 
 He left me in token of service and friend 
 ship, it said an old house he owned over by 
 North River, an stocks well six thousand a 
 year to make one bite of it!" 
 
 "Good lord! He did?" cried Martin Mc 
 Gee. 
 
 Rosalie nodded solemnly, but her eyes shone. 
 
 "Now I played that medium game on the 
 square, you understand," she said, "again and 
 again. I passed up chances to hook just such 
 old dopes as Norcross. My rule was alwaj T s 
 straight sittings at two dollars a head, an no 
 extras. I faked em, of course. But I heart-
 
 THE CHIEF 37 
 
 ened em up. I handed em good advice. I 
 kept silly fool girls from goin to the bad. I 
 gave weepy old widows the only real recrea 
 tion they ever had. An here, right at the end, 
 comes an honest piece of money so big that I 
 could have played crooked all my life, an never 
 even got a chance at anythin like it. Makes 
 me wonder," she added, "if the goody-goody 
 stuff I used to line out in my inspirational plat 
 form talks wasn t true, after all." 
 
 "And never a noise from the lawyers?" in 
 quired Martin McGee. "Didn t they squeal?" 
 
 "Like stuck pigs!" replied Rosalie, "but they 
 didn t bother me. I was my own lawyer. All 
 right, says I, sue and get it into the papers 
 that Robert H. Norcross was runnin to medi 
 ums. Do a lot for your railroad system. 
 Look nice in red head-lines. That fixed em. 
 An last March / 1 come into my money. I 
 closed up shop an sold my test books an* 
 stopped this medium business, an started to be 
 a lady. Six thousand a year ain t too much to 
 do that job in New York, even when you don t 
 have to pay house rent. 
 
 "There was six months income waiting for 
 me when the lawyers settled everything up, an
 
 38 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 I put that into things that I wanted all my 
 life. I bought some stuff that I needed too, 
 but I bought the things that I wanted first 
 a Duchess-lace handkerchief that put me back 
 fifty dollars, a gold chair, an some diamond 
 rings an a gold-mesh bag but I guess this is 
 neither here nor there. I spread myself on 
 clothes, had my face overhauled and renovated 
 until I hardly knew it myself, and then I fixed 
 up the house. And that house you can be 
 lieve me is some house it s got chintz bed 
 rooms, an a conservatory an a smoking den an 
 a cozy corner an a sun parlor. 
 
 "After that I started out to be a lady. I 
 went to the opera an the theater an tea at 
 the Deidrich. I hired a landau from a livery- 
 stable, an every day I drove up Fifth Avenue. 
 The rest of the time, I shopped. An , Inspec 
 tor Martin McGee, believe me, I begun to feel 
 wrong, somehow." 
 
 Rosalie stopped for breath and Inspector 
 McGee jerked out a quick laugh of anticipa 
 tion. 
 
 "It wasn t till last week that I looked myself 
 over an found I wasn t happy. To make no 
 bones of it, bein a real lady which I d wanted
 
 THE CHIEF 39 
 
 to be all my life jest bored me to death. It 
 wasn t as though I d had somebody to do it 
 with. That was the trouble, I guess. I never 
 did associate with mediums much I always 
 was on to them. Two or three of em crawled 
 around an tried to graft on me. I fixed em. 
 They don t know nothing on me except I used 
 to be in the business, but I know everything on 
 them. With other rich people, like me, I 
 wasn t makin no headway at all. That 
 wasn t the whole of it, either. Here I d been 
 twenty years takin care of other people s trou 
 bles, getting fun out of jest listening to em, 
 an excitement out of wondering what they d 
 do next. An I missed it." 
 
 "I bet you did," said Martin McGee admir 
 ingly. 
 
 "Well, last week I set down and had a good 
 long dispute with myself. You can t go back 
 to the business, says I. Rosalie Le Grange, 
 you ve got jest what you ve always wanted, an 
 yet you ain t happy. What you need is a 
 compromise/ said I. An next morning- it 
 come to me. Maybe the spirits sent it. You 
 can laugh, Inspector McGee, but there s some 
 thing in this spirit thing. I used to think there
 
 40 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 was, an then again I d think there wasn t 
 even in my own clairvoyance. But the more 
 you know about this clairvoyant thing the more 
 you don t know, an that stands whether you re 
 a psychic researcher or a clairvoyant yourself. 
 
 "Well, anyhow, it came to me like a flash 
 boarders! I could run my house just the way 
 I wanted, because I needn t look out for profits. 
 An I could take jest who I wanted and shut 
 out whoever I didn t want. The thought 
 chirked me a lot. Thinks I : I ve got a smok 
 ing-room and a cozy corner an a sun parlor, 
 and they ain t many folks that board get them 
 comforts. So I fixed all the bedrooms up sen 
 sible with good white and gold beds and adult- 
 size towels an gave them all little fixy touches 
 that made them homelike." 
 
 Again Madame Le Grange ran down. She 
 panted softly a moment. 
 
 Inspector McGee dropped a heavy fist on his 
 mahogany desk. "It would take you to look 
 upon a boarding-house as fun!" he chuckled. 
 
 "An I was jest ready to begin to look around 
 an advertise when this happened. The idea 
 struck me as soon as I saw the state of the 
 people in that house. The police would put it
 
 THE CHIEF 41 
 
 under guard, an the boarders would be out of 
 a home. So I moved em over bodily, all but 
 the one you pinched the sick little dago 
 woman from up-stairs, an the two girls, and 
 that funny old Professor Noll. An I m even 
 putting up with the landlady if it was other 
 people s troubles I was lookin for, I got em 
 all right!" 
 
 "Gee!" ejaculated Martin McGee. "I can 
 use you " 
 
 "Yes, you can," interrupted Rosalie, "but 
 you won t. I know what you want. You 
 want me to go to work an help cinch this case. 
 Well, I won t. I m out of that business, too. 
 What I m here for, Martin McGee beyond 
 the pleasure I always took in your society" 
 here Rosalie let her dimples play and flash 
 "is to tell all I know or saw, so s you won t be 
 callin me at the inquest an gettin me a fea 
 ture in the papers." 
 
 "How about this man North?" asked the In 
 spector. 
 
 "Well, in the first place, I like him," said 
 Rosalie; "I like that boy." 
 
 "You re no different from every other lady 
 that s looked into that terrier face of his," re-
 
 42 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 sponded Martin McGee, smiling heavily. 
 "I ve been having his record trailed all day. 
 Seems he knows everybody, except the swells, 
 on his beat, the two cops, the paper-boy, the 
 bartenders he s strong there the bootblacks, 
 the wops on the fruit stand, the kike tailor, 
 the cabmen, the expressmen and the postman, 
 even the chink laundrymen. He was best man 
 last week at the postman s wedding, and they 
 do say every one who knows him sticks to just 
 one thing whoever done it, twasn t Tommy 
 North. That may seem in his favor, but 
 there s two things against him; one" Martin 
 McGee lifted a heavy purple finger "he does 
 most of his sleeping between the hours of half 
 past two and half past seven in the morning; 
 and two" another purple finger popped up 
 to join the first "he spends most of his extra 
 money at pool parlors, Austrian villages and 
 cabaret shows, where he has some reputation 
 as a turkey trotter. For a boy that just come 
 down from the country three years ago, I must 
 say he s been going some, and the only wonder 
 to me is that Tammany ain t got hold of him 
 long ago. Do you think he had anything to 
 do with it?"
 
 THE CHIEF 43 
 
 "I ain t committin myself as to who done 
 it did it I don t have to think about that 
 anymore now I ve stopped bein a lady," said 
 Rosalie, sweeping into digression. "You ll 
 never know the fight I had with this grammar 
 thing after talkin for forty years jest like I 
 wanted to. Thank the lord, that s over. 
 Well, anyhow, I ain t committin myself. 
 Looks like an alibi for Mr. North when the 
 landlady says he come up the stairs only a 
 minute before he hollered, an the doctor says 
 that this Hanska had been dead two or three 
 hours. Appeared to me like he was jest 
 jarred out of a drunk, too. How about this 
 Lawrence Wade or whatever his name was 
 the man who called with the bag? Got 
 him?" 
 
 "He was arrested this morning in Boston." 
 
 "Skippin ? Looks bad. Has it occurred 
 to you to investigate that young man s athletic 
 record?" 
 
 Inspector McGee jumped and turned on 
 her. Rosalie was always letting slip some of 
 these extraordinary bits of knowledge. 
 
 "How did you know," inquired Inspector 
 McGee, "that he was an athlete?"
 
 44 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 Rosalie looked very grave. But she an 
 swered his question by another. 
 
 "He wasn t a fencer?" 
 
 For answer, McGee picked up a red-bound 
 college annual from his desk. 
 
 "We ve been following him up, you see." 
 And in the tabulated records he pointed out 
 one line, "President fencing club, 1898-99." 
 
 "Looks bad," commented Rosalie. 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 "How would you stab a man if you were 
 stabbing in a hurry?" asked Rosalie. "Try. 
 Here s a penholder. The point of the pen is 
 the point of the knife. Now!" 
 
 Inspector McGee grasped the penholder so 
 that the point protruded from under his little 
 finger. So holding it, he made a downward 
 sweep through the air. 
 
 "Of course, that s how I d go at it," said 
 McGee, "but a regular knife man " 
 
 "Exactly," interrupted Rosalie. "And 
 your knife would go in from above, now 
 wouldn t it? The wound would point down. 
 Now try it this way " Rosalie arranged the 
 weapon which is mightier than the sword in 
 such manner that the point extended from un-
 
 THE CHIEF 45 
 
 der her forefinger. "Or this" now she held 
 the fencer s grip, the shaft, lying obliquely 
 along the palm, controlled and guided by the 
 sensitive finger-points. "Now. He was 
 stabbed in the heart, but from beneath. The 
 wound pointed upward. With your grip, you 
 couldn t stab a standing man upward, not if 
 he let you. With my grip, I couldn t stab 
 downward to save my life." 
 
 Martin McGee went into heavy thought 
 while he struggled for objections. 
 
 "Suppose he was lying down?" he asked, at 
 last. 
 
 "On the floor? Beggin to be stabbed?" 
 jabbed Rosalie. 
 
 "Maybe he was stabbed in bed and got out 
 and died on the floor." 
 
 "An never made any disturbance or left any 
 blood behind? Besides, the bed wasn t mussed 
 at all. It was just thrown back as though he d 
 got up quiet and natural." 
 
 "You saw all that in two minutes!" ex 
 claimed McGee. "I never could understand 
 how you did it." 
 
 "If you d spent your whole life," replied Ro 
 salie, "sizin up sitters with past, present an
 
 46 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 future in the two minutes that you was fakin 
 trance, you d see things in a hurry, too!" 
 
 "Well, how on earth did you know that about 
 fencers?" 
 
 "Easy as lyin an simple as women," re 
 plied Rosalie. "I used to room with a little 
 actress that fenced the one I was havin sup 
 per with last night. But now, Inspector, just 
 to close things up, I m out of this case. I ve 
 given you all I know. Your police will be 
 botherin my boarders a lot with questions ; an 
 so will the reporters. Just trust me to steer 
 that. You keep me out." 
 
 Martin McGee sighed. 
 
 "All right, Rosalie; but I d like your help. 
 Still, I owe you lots of good turns, and the 
 case don t look as mysterious, after all. I 
 guess it s that fellow Wade." 
 
 "Don t get too sudden with your guesses," 
 replied Rosalie. "How does your dope go, 
 anyway? Have you looked up everybody that 
 slept in the house last night ? I d like to know 
 pretty well if I m cherishin a murderer in my 
 midst." 
 
 "They re being looked up," replied McGee. 
 "I ve taken personal charge of this, but the
 
 THE CHIEF 47 
 
 Captain commanding the precinct detectives 
 is helping with the leg-work. The house 
 wasn t entered. Wade, or maybe North, did 
 this unless it was an inside job. There s the 
 landlady well, it might have been her as well 
 as anybody, of course except she s a kind of 
 an old fool. She just don t look likely " 
 
 Rosalie nodded. 
 
 "You can count her out." 
 
 "That Professor Noll is a harmless old 
 crank. Still they re the people that do such 
 things sometimes. Now you ve brought up 
 that point about fencers he was educated in 
 a German university. Heid well, whatever 
 you call it. They practise some kind of Dutch 
 sword game over there, don t they? There 
 wasn t any servant in the house. Mrs. Moore s 
 maids and furnace man were niggers, and nig 
 gers sometimes use knives. The furnace man 
 is named Tremont Taylor. He gambles ; and 
 when a coon gambles he s likely to do worse. 
 That gets us down to the women. Miss Es- 
 trilla is up here from Caracas, which is in 
 Venezuela, for her eyes. Her brother s here 
 with her. He s the agent in New York for 
 an independent asphalt company of Caracas.
 
 48 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 He lives in some apartment-hotel over on 
 Thirty-seventh Street I ve forgotten the 
 name. He called last night, but he was out 
 of the house before this Wade came before 
 they heard Wade and Hanska quarreling 
 and he didn t come in again until they d dis 
 covered the body. He was in his rooms all 
 that time, too we ve talked to the elevator 
 man in his apartment-hotel. Getting back to 
 the women ; except Mrs. Moore, who s big and 
 husky, there s not one of em has the strength 
 to hit a blow like that and women don t use 
 knives, anyhow. Miss Estrilla s weak as a cat. 
 Those two stenographers" he referred to his 
 notes "Miss Harding and Miss Jones, are 
 just little city girls, with no great muscle. 
 Besides, where s the motive? I can t get a 
 line yet on Hanska the body hasn t been 
 claimed. He s boarded there three weeks. 
 Nobody liked him much, but I can t find that 
 any of the other boarders knew him well enough 
 to hate him. I forgot to say we ve looked over 
 everybody and everything for blood, and can t 
 find a drop " 
 
 "You don t have to tell me that," responded 
 Rosalie with some asperity, "a set of your bull-
 
 THE CHIEF 49 
 
 headed detectives has been ransackin the suit 
 cases in my house all mornin . Nearly scared 
 the life out of Miss Harding, by tryin to prove 
 to her that the fruit stains on her shirt-waist 
 were blood." 
 
 "Well, I guess they were fruit stains, all 
 right," replied McGee. "Can t find any blood 
 on Wade s things, either." 
 
 "Which is natural. A wound like that don t 
 begin to bleed right off. No necessity for 
 gettin bloody if the murderer only kept his 
 head, which generally they don t. Of course, 
 you ve tried to find where the knife came 
 from?" 
 
 McGee smiled on her. 
 
 "Have I- caught you asleep at last?" he 
 asked. 
 
 "Nope," replied Rosalie promptly and 
 cheerfully, "since you put it that way. I saw 
 the pile of junk on the table an there was 
 another knife in it. What do you find about 
 that stuff?" 
 
 "Nothing yet. But I bet I ll find more 
 when I put Lawrence Wade through the 
 Third Degree. I guess it s Wade." 
 
 "I guess probably," admitted Rosalie.
 
 50 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 "Most mysteries ain t mysteries at all after the 
 first day. Well, now, I m botherin a busy 
 man in office hours an I must run along. Let s 
 see five minutes to four, an it s bad luck to 
 go before the hour. Suppose you tell me about 
 yourself an how the world s usin you?" 
 
 Inspector McGee sat back in his office chair 
 and waxed eloquent. However, his narrative 
 of pulls and promotions and Tammany in 
 fluence was never finished. For before the 
 hour struck, the silent attentive doorman en 
 tered and laid on his desk a card. Inspector 
 McGee took it up, glanced at it perfunctorily, 
 and suddenly let out an exclamation which 
 had all the power and verve of an oath. 
 
 "By the great cats!" he exclaimed, "look at 
 that Mrs. John H. Hanska. " 
 
 Rosalie took the card and fingered it. 
 
 "The widow, I bet." 
 
 "Thought he was single," remarked the In 
 spector. "Though, after all, I d just been 
 taking it for granted." 
 
 "Well," said Rosalie, rising, "that s come- 
 again-soon for me." 
 
 But the Inspector was observing her with 
 eyes which held quizzical invitation.
 
 THE CHIEF 51 
 
 "Honest now," he said, "wouldn t you like 
 to sit in on this interview?" 
 
 Rosalie flashed her dimples and contem 
 plated him for a second. Then, with the un 
 expected lightness which marked all her move 
 ments, she sat down. 
 
 "See here, Martin MeGee," she said, "y u 
 ain t goin to make a fool of me, draggin* me 
 into this case but I m dying to listen just the 
 same." 
 
 "Show them in," said the Inspector on the 
 instant, and as though fearing that she would 
 pull back her permission. 
 
 "But not unless she s willing," said Rosalie, 
 as they waited. 
 
 And then through the door came two women. 
 
 "Good lordl" commented Rosalie under her 
 breath.
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 MRS. HANSKA S STORY 
 
 THE first was tall and big. But her 
 height was mainly the superb carriage of 
 her shoulders, her size but the ripe roundness 
 of a goddess figure. She was dark; she was 
 young; she was beautiful. At that moment, 
 her face hinted tragedy in every line and color ; 
 but at any moment she must have been seri 
 ous. It could smile only in flashes, that face 
 with its broad serene brow which held its 
 own only by force against floods of dark hair, 
 with its regular line of profile, with its large 
 rippled mouth parting slowly even on her 
 speech. But mainly it was the eyes which gave 
 gravity to her beauty. They were clear and 
 big; they had the rare lift at the inner curve 
 which lends an appearance of frankness and 
 ingenuousness. Beyond their beauty, how 
 ever, they had an arresting quality so strong, 
 when she regarded you full-face, as to be poig- 
 
 52
 
 MRS. HANSKA S STORY 53 
 
 nant. It all lay in her expression of inno 
 cence triumphant over experience, of sincerity 
 triumphant over many lies. Rosalie Le 
 Grange, connoisseur of her sex, sat regarding 
 her spellbound. 
 
 The second woman in fact she was little 
 more than a girl had everything which the 
 other had not; she seemed but the illuminated 
 shadow of her who called herself Mrs. Han- 
 ska. She was slender, blonde and fragile 
 her quality was elfin. Rosalie could spare her 
 but a glance. 
 
 "I am Mrs. Hanska, widow of the man who 
 was killed last night," said the taller woman; 
 and she hesitated. 
 
 It was not the custom of Inspector Martin 
 McGee to rise when women entered his office 
 in the role of the accused or of witnesses. A 
 little brutality of attitude, he felt, put them in 
 a meek and humble mood for the subsequent 
 Third Degree proceedings. But this woman 
 or was it the respected presence of Rosalie 
 Le Grange? drew him to his feet. 
 
 "Won t you sit down?" he said. 
 
 * Thank you. May I introduce Miss Eliza 
 beth Lane? She is here to verify what I have
 
 54 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 to say." All this with perfect simplicity. 
 Her eyes traveled then, with a quick glance 
 of inquiry, to Rosalie Le Grange. 
 
 "This," said the Inspector, taking his cue at 
 a quick prod from Rosalie s foot, "is Mrs. Le 
 Grange. She is the lady who came into the 
 house right after the accident and took the 
 boarders over to her place for the night. She s 
 kept them there ever since. She was just tell 
 ing me what she knew. Maybe you d like to 
 hear it." 
 
 With her beautiful seriousness, Mrs. Hanska 
 considered Inspector McGee s words, consid 
 ered the situation, considered Rosalie Le 
 Grange. Never had Rosalie presented more 
 convincingly the appearance of simple, placid, 
 bourgeois respectability. Not the quiver of 
 an eyelash, not the flash of a dimple quiet- 
 eyed she gave Mrs. Hanska glance for glance. 
 
 "I should like very much to hear it," said 
 Mrs. Hanska earnestly. 
 
 "But maybe you want to be alone just at 
 first," interposed Rosalie, making a pretense 
 of rising. 
 
 "No there is nothing secret," replied Mrs. 
 Hanska. "I see no reason why you should
 
 MRS. HANSKA S STORY 55 
 
 not stay. Indeed you may be able to help us." 
 She trained her look steadily upon Rosalie Le 
 Grange. Rosalie, with all the gravity of this 
 world in her brows, looked back. Something 
 unseen of Martin McGee passed between them. 
 Women have with women their own ways, un- 
 perceived, unweighted, unvalued, by you or me 
 or Martin McGee or any other man who ever 
 lived. In that glance, two currents of fine 
 subconscious emotion had met and fused. Ro 
 salie Le Grange s mind had said: "You mar 
 vel, you beauty !" And Constance Hanska s 
 mind had said: "I trust this woman who 
 ever she is." 
 
 Now Martin McGee summoned the police 
 stenographer and ordered him to stay within 
 call. Gone from him was the heavy humor 
 of his half -hour with Rosalie. He was the 
 Chief suspicious and brutal. 
 
 "I must warn you," he said, "that if you 
 are implicated in this case, anything you say 
 will be used against you at the trial." Gen 
 erally that sudden statement made women 
 tremble, drew from them a flood of words out 
 of which McGee picked the flotsam and the 
 jetsam of evidence. But Mrs. Hanska did
 
 56 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 not give even the preliminary frightened start. 
 She only transferred her limpid level gaze 
 from Rosalie s face to Inspector McGee s. 
 
 "Oh, of course," she said simply; "I know 
 enough about law to understand that." 
 
 But the little blonde spoke now for the first 
 time; and for the first time Rosalie turned 
 her attention from the greater luminary to its 
 satellite. She was a child of whimsy and the 
 sun. Her face ran to tiny points and peaks, 
 her coloring to twinkles of light. Her blue 
 eyes were snapping now as she exclaimed : 
 
 "Implicated! You ll have a hard time do 
 ing that!" And she gazed truculently at In 
 spector McGee. 
 
 "Please don t, Betsy-Barbara," said Mrs. 
 Hanska with no irritation merely a plain 
 statement of her desires; "it s this gentleman s 
 duty to warn me, you know." 
 
 ("Betsy-Barbara that s a cute name I 
 bet Mrs. Hanska gave it to her!" said the mind 
 of Rosalie Le Grange.) 
 
 "It would be impossible to implicate me," 
 pursued Mrs. Hanska. "Dozens of people can 
 testify that I was in Arden, a hundred miles 
 north, last night that I have not left Arden
 
 MRS. HANSKA S STORY 57 
 
 for more than a month. Perhaps," she con 
 tinued, checking an unformed sentence on the 
 lips of Inspector McGee, "I had better start at 
 the beginning and tell you all about it." 
 
 She was talking "fine," Inspector McGee 
 reflected. Having got her started, his best 
 course was to mollify her until she began to run 
 down. 
 
 "That s always best," he said. 
 
 "So I should think," replied Mrs. Hanska, 
 "but will they use it all at the trial?" 
 
 "Not necessarily," replied Inspector McGee; 
 "we must judge of that." Mrs. Hanska 
 mused another space. 
 
 "And the newspapers " 
 
 "They ll get," said McGee, "just what you 
 tell them no more." 
 
 Mrs. Hanska sighed as though one great 
 load, at least, had lifted from her shoulders. 
 And quite simply she began her talk. 
 
 "I married Captain Hanska ten years ago 
 when I was nineteen. He was nearly thir 
 ty-five then, although he said that he was 
 younger; and he had just come back from 
 Alaska. He said that he got his title in the 
 Bolivian army. I have since had reason to
 
 58 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 doubt that. He was an engineer by profes 
 sion. I realize now how little mother and I 
 knew about him. But he was the kind of per 
 son who carried everything before him you 
 deferred to him in those days in spite of your 
 better judgment. And my mother was very 
 trusting. Then, too, Captain Hanska was a 
 very charming man. Afterward, he changed 
 perhaps I need not say anything more " 
 
 During this statement, Betsy-Barbara Lane 
 had been wriggling and bouncing in her chair. 
 "Then I will!" she burst out indignantly. 
 "He was dreadful. He was horrid. He was 
 bad and he always had been bad. And he 
 treated her shamefully. Everybody knows 
 that!" 
 
 Martin McGee, reflecting that he was mak 
 ing great progress toward establishing a mo 
 tive, forebore to check Betsy-Barbara. But 
 Mrs. Hanska interposed a firm, "My dear, you 
 must not interrupt!" Then she took up the 
 thread with her extraordinary composure. 
 
 "Miss Lane is a little inaccurate. Captain 
 Hanska never really maltreated me. He was 
 kind enough. Perhaps he was too kind. But, 
 you see, I found out after a time how he lived.
 
 MRS. HANSKA S STORY 59 
 
 That, for me, was the beginning of the end. 
 He was a brilliant man. He might have made 
 a good living in any one of a variety of ways. 
 But he simply would not work. He preferred 
 to live by his wits. Cards mainly. It was 
 long before I realized that. He was very 
 clever at concealment, and it never occurred 
 to me to doubt his word. In fact, I did not 
 realize it all until after our marriage. We 
 were in New York she hesitated again. 
 "Shall I tell you the details?" Then, "I mean, 
 of course, is all this pertinent?" 
 
 "I ve advised you to tell everything," re 
 plied the Inspector. 
 
 And now Rosalie Le Grange, who had been 
 sitting in unaccustomed silence, spoke for the 
 first time. 
 
 "You ll excuse me, Inspector," she said with 
 an asperity so well assumed that Martin Mc- 
 Gee wondered for a moment whether she was 
 really offended, "but Mrs. Hanska don t seem 
 to know her rights. She hasn t seen any 
 lawyer. A person don t knock around this 
 world for forty years without gettin a line 
 on what her rights are. I ve learned. An 
 I m goin to be your lawyer here, Mrs. Hanska.
 
 60 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 Now as long as you tell the truth, which of 
 course you will, it don t matter about details. 
 What the Inspector is after is who done this 
 murder, an anythin touchin on the facts. It 
 don t matter how you learned it, but you did 
 learn that Captain Hanska was a crook." 
 
 Mrs. Hanska winced visibly at the ugly 
 word which finished Rosalie s charge. But she 
 managed a nod of assent. 
 
 "Thank you, Mrs. Le Grange. Yes, I 
 learned that he was a not entirely honorable. 
 But I stayed with him " 
 
 "Tryin to lift and elevate his moral nature," 
 said Rosalie Le Grange. "I ve seen it tried 
 before on that kind." 
 
 "Of course I believed that I could change 
 him," admitted Mrs. Hanska. "But I began 
 in time to suspect that for one doubtful trans 
 action I knew about, there were a dozen he 
 was keeping from me. It grew worse than 
 that," her voice fell as though she made this 
 last admission very reluctantly; "in time I real 
 ized that he was using me as a lure for his 
 operations in cards and other things. We 
 were on our way around the world. Where- 
 ever we went, he made me entertain men that
 
 MRS. HANSKA S STORY 61 
 
 they might play cards afterward and be 
 swindled. The end came at Shanghai" she 
 stopped here and made a little effort before 
 she went on, "it was a young Australian 
 foolish, and with a great deal of money. Shall 
 I go into that?" she paused here, and her gaze 
 traveled with another appeal to the face of 
 Rosalie Le Grange. 
 
 "Now, Inspector," said Rosalie, "I don t see 
 why this lady has to tell all that. It s enough 
 that the game was crooked. You left him, of 
 course." 
 
 "I had to," replied Mrs. Hanska. "It came 
 to the point where I must leave him or turn 
 criminal myself. I got funds from home and 
 sailed for America as soon as I could. I went 
 straight to my mother in Boston/ After that, 
 I taught in a private school to support myself. 
 I stayed there until he found me out and fol 
 lowed me. He wanted me to return to him." 
 
 "And, of course, he would have put her 
 through the same thing again," exploded Bet 
 sy-Barbara; "he hadn t changed any." 
 
 "And what did you do next?" Rosalie slipped 
 in her question before Mrs. Hanska could re 
 buke Betsy-Barbara again. By this time,
 
 62 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 Martin MeGee was sitting back in his chair 
 with a feeling that the Third Degree had got 
 clean out of his hands. He was a helpless 
 male thing in a session of three women a 
 piece of furniture. Wise man that he was, he 
 let it take its course. Constance was talking 
 straight to Rosalie now. 
 
 "I resumed my maiden name. I called my 
 self Mrs. Wharton and I got a situation at 
 the seminary at Arden where Miss Lane 
 teaches also. Then my mother died. At the 
 end she made me promise that I would never 
 go back to Captain Hanska as long as he led 
 that that kind of life. Somehow he learned, 
 though, that I was in Arden. I told my trou 
 bles to Miss Lane, and she saw Captain Han- 
 ska for me the first time he came " 
 
 "I told him," said Betsy-Barbara, satisfac 
 tion surging in her voice, "if ever he came 
 around again I d fix him I told him I d have 
 him arrested for a whole lot of things I knew 
 he had done. Oh, I frightened him, I tell 
 you!" 
 
 The ferocity of Betsy-Barbara s voice, taken 
 with her fairy fragility, brought into the situa 
 tion its first hint of humor. Rosalie dimpled.
 
 MRS. HANSKA S STORY 63 
 
 Even Constance let a ghost of a smile play 
 about her lips. As for Inspector McGee, he 
 nearly strangled. 
 
 "I wanted," Constance proceeded, "a sepa 
 ration. I needed it for my own protection. 
 You see, there was the property mother had 
 left a little money. Captain Hanska wouldn t 
 consent to a divorce." 
 
 "No," said Betsy-Barbara in a tone of su 
 perhuman sapience, "of course not! He 
 wanted that money." 
 
 "And there were no real grounds that I 
 knew" Mrs. Hanska had by this time given 
 up the struggle with Betsy-Barbara s wilful- 
 ness "I had deserted him, not he me. 
 Afterward he went away to Holland, I think. 
 At least he was in Antwerp three months ago. 
 Then he returned to New York. He sent me 
 a letter. He said that he would never give me 
 up. Then I put the whole matter into the 
 hands of Mr. Wade Mr. Lawrence Wade." 
 
 "Ah!" The exclamation broke from the 
 immobility of Inspector Martin McGee. For 
 the first time since Rosalie took the reins, 
 Constance Hanska seemed aware of his 
 existence.
 
 64 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 "Yes," she said, "the young man whom you 
 have arrested for this murder. I know, In 
 spector McGee, that my opinion will carry 
 little weight with you. But I must say this " 
 she paused, and seemed to struggle with an 
 emotion which, hitherto carefully repressed, 
 now beat itself to the surface "Lawrence 
 Wade did not commit that murder. He 
 couldn t have done it. He isn t that kind of" 
 a man." 
 
 Meeting with no sympathetic response from 
 Inspector McGee s look of cunning gravity, 
 Mrs. Hanska turned to Rosalie. 
 
 "Mrs. Le Grange, you understand, don t 
 you?" rand here her voice became deep and 
 bell-like with her conviction. "Sometimes 
 women know things without having to be told, 
 and I know that Mr. Wade is innocent. I 
 would stake my life and my honor every 
 thing I have on that. And yet I am per 
 fectly helpless about proving it. He is inno 
 cent, though." 
 
 Rosalie did not commit herself here. But 
 eyes and dimples flashed their sympathy. 
 And it was the Inspector who spoke first. 
 
 "Well, that s what we re here to settle, and
 
 MRS. HANSKA S STORY 65 
 
 if he didn t do it, the best way out is to tell the 
 truth." 
 
 "As if," interpolated Rosalie, "you wasn t 
 going to do that! Now tell the Inspector 
 about this Mr. Wade " 
 
 "He is my friend and attorney," replied 
 Mrs. Hanska. "He lives in Arden. I have 
 known him ever since I went there. He vis 
 ited New York three times to attempt some 
 legal settlement with Captain Hanska. He 
 wanted me to get a divorce. I wasn t quite 
 ready to do that, even if I could have found 
 grounds. But I was willing to have a legal 
 separation something which would have rid 
 me of Captain Hanska and let me go my own 
 way. I authorized Mr. Wade to offer part of 
 my mother s property, if that would do any 
 good. The Captain was living in a boarding- 
 house. I knew his ways well enough to realize 
 that this meant extreme poverty. He refused 
 everything. He told Mr. Wade that as soon 
 as he had arranged something he didn t say 
 what he would find me and compel me to go 
 with him. I realized that I must get farther 
 from New York. I had a few possessions of 
 Captain Hanska s. I wanted to return them
 
 66 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 and close with him forever. Mr. Wade had 
 an idea of making one last appeal ; and I asked 
 him if he would deliver those things at the same 
 time. Yesterday morning Mr. Wade came 
 down to New York. That s all I know until 
 I saw the newspapers " She stopped here. 
 Her color faded; her hands fell apart with a 
 gesture of despair. 
 
 "And I brought her straight to you," said 
 Betsy-Barbara with a triumphant air, as 
 though her extraordinary cunning had settled 
 the case for all time. 
 
 Now the Inspector took up the examination 
 again, for Rosalie sat musing, her eyes on Con 
 stance Hanska. 
 
 "What were the things you sent?" he asked. 
 
 "Let me see what were they? Betsy -Bar 
 bara, you helped pack them. An old minia 
 ture of the Captain " 
 
 "And some family photographs " Betsy- 
 Barbara put in briskly. 
 
 "And an old mahogany shaving-mirror 
 which had belonged to his father " 
 
 "And a Mexican hat-band and two knives 
 and an Irish blackthorn stick and a silver ciga 
 rette case "
 
 MRS. HANSKA S STORY 67 
 
 A stethoscope upon Inspector McGee s pulse 
 would have jumped an inch as Betsy-Barbara 
 pronounced the word "knives." But his down- 
 turned face betrayed no emotion. He checked 
 his interruption, in fact, through two more 
 items; and when he returned to the subject he 
 worked backward like a good attorney, con 
 cealing his pertinent question in a fog of im 
 pertinent ones. 
 
 "What kind of a cigarette case?" 
 
 "Chased silver and turquoises a Russian 
 design." 
 
 "What was the stick like?" 
 
 "Very heavy, and dark brown as I remem 
 ber. And I think the ferrule was loose." 
 
 Here Rosalie, sitting impassive, quite out of 
 the conversation, saw the corners of the In 
 spector s mouth twitch. She sat holding her 
 self very tight, lest she betray the psycholog 
 ical moment. 
 
 "And the knives?" said the Inspector. 
 
 "Let me see one was a little dagger that he 
 used for a paper-knife and the other was a 
 Malay kris with a long, sharp, wavy blade. 
 He got it in the Philippines." 
 
 "Yes!" exclaimed the Inspector. And then
 
 6$ THE RED BUTTON 
 
 with the sudden brutality which was a part of 
 his Third Degree method, "And it was with 
 that knife Lawrence Wade stabbed your hus 
 band." 
 
 Inspector McGee might have thrown that 
 very knife instead of his words, so sudden was 
 the effect upon Constance Hanska. The color 
 left her face. Her eyes grew big and wild. 
 She flashed to her feet, trembling violently. 
 
 "Oh, no!" she pleaded, "oh, no! Oh, that 
 will hurt him so! He couldn t have used it 
 some one used it after he left Lawrence 
 Wade could no more have stabbed an unarmed 
 man " She stopped, wrestled herself baek 
 to some semblance of composure. "Don t you 
 understand he was a gentleman?" She turned 
 from McGee s triumphant state to Rosalie s 
 softened face. "Why, Mrs. Le Grange, 
 gentlemen don t do such things. He was an 
 athlete he played every game honorably 
 do you think he would have put me in such a 
 position, even if he thought of nothing else he 
 would have had to break every instinct he 
 he" 
 
 "Look here, Mrs. Hanska," said Inspector 
 McGee, pouncing upon his advantage as ex-
 
 MRS. HANSKA S STORY 69 
 
 perience had taught him to do, "there was 
 what you call an affair between you and this 
 Mr. Wade, wasn t there?" 
 
 Here Rosalie swung in again. 
 
 "Inspector," she said, "if you go that way, 
 I ll advise this young woman to get a real 
 lawyer before she talks to you any more. 
 Now, my dear, you just answer what you 
 please." 
 
 "Well, I should say sol" put in Betsy-Bar 
 bara. "Constance, why don t you leave this 
 place at once ? You didn t come here to be in 
 sulted." 
 
 But Constance was mistress of herself again. 
 
 "All this will come out in the trial, Betsy- 
 Barbara. I might as well tell everything now. 
 When he put himself in this position he was 
 trying to help me. There was no affair, as 
 you call it. But when he first met me he 
 thought I was a widow. And before he knew 
 my circumstances, he proposed marriage. He 
 never spoke of it after I told him. He was a 
 gentleman. He only tried to serve me as a 
 gentleman would under the circumstances." 
 
 "Has it struck you," asked the Inspector, 
 "that this might be used as a motive?"
 
 70 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 "This is perfectly dreadful!" cried Betsy- 
 Barbara. "Constance, you shall not stay here 
 another minute. You come with me to a 
 lawyer!" 
 
 "That s right," said Rosalie Le Grange 
 shortly, "Inspector McGee, you can excuse 
 us!" 
 
 "Not for a while," said Inspector McGee 
 shortly. "Madame, I must have your official 
 statement as to what you have just told me 
 before I let you leave." 
 
 Now Constance had risen; and Betsy-Bar 
 bara, in a state of suppressed fury, stood beside 
 her, flashing sparks from her golden hair and 
 her blue eyes and her little white teeth. In 
 spector McGee stepped to the door to summon 
 a stenographer. And Rosalie, quick as 
 thought, slipped up beside Constance. 
 
 "Not a word more than you can help about 
 this proposing to you not a word!" she whis 
 pered. 
 
 "Step into this room, ladies," said McGee. 
 "I ll join you in a moment. We won t need 
 you, Mrs. Le Grange." 
 
 Alone with the Inspector, Rosalie Le Grange 
 stood regarding him from top to toe. He
 
 MRS. HANSKA S STORY 71 
 
 faced her in a little embarrassment, which he 
 covered with bluff. 
 
 "Well, you carried your pretend off nicely," 
 he said; "anybody d have thought you were 
 sore on me." 
 
 For answer, Rosalie drew up a corner of her 
 fine, firm, upper lip. "Sometimes," she said, 
 "I hate a cop!" 
 
 Martin McGee laughed uneasily. 
 
 "Well, we got the goods," he said; "motive s 
 established, all right." 
 
 "You got the goods, not we" replied Rosa 
 lie; "don t you count me in on that game. 
 Third Degree! On the likes of her !" 
 
 But Inspector McGee, more interested just 
 then in his professional problem than in what 
 any woman thought of him, was pursuing his 
 own train of reflection. 
 
 "In love with Hanska s wife and Hanska d 
 mistreated her and she wanted a divorce and 
 couldn t get it. Wade and Hanska had quar 
 reled. Wade goes up there with his curio 
 shop and lays it down on the table. They 
 quarrel again. Wade s a fencer. He picks 
 up that knife and lets him have it just by in 
 stinct. Then he walks out of the door and gets
 
 72 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 rattled and beats it. Of course, it would be 
 hard to establish first-degree murder on what 
 we ve got now but we ll get it." 
 
 "You think so, do you?" replied Rosalie. 
 "My, don t promotion make a smart man of a 
 pavement-pounding cop !" 
 
 "Guess you don t know," replied McGee, 
 "what this man Wade said when we pinched 
 him in Boston and told him what it was for?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 "He said: I didn t kill him, but by God 
 I d like to shake hands with the man who did ! 
 In the Inspector s voice there was an air of fi 
 nality and triumph. 
 
 "Did he say that?" asked Rosalie; "did he 
 say that?" She mused for a moment, revolv 
 ing many principles of human conduct drawn 
 from her large experience. 
 
 "Martin McGee," she said at length, "I 
 told you a while ago I wasn t going to monkey 
 with this thing. But I m an old fool and I m 
 in it my own way, as I always worked." 
 
 McGee laughed. 
 
 "I thought you couldn t keep out," he said, 
 "but you ll run against Lawrence Wade at the 
 end."
 
 MRS. HANSKA S STORY 73 
 
 As the two strange women came through the 
 door, they found Rosalie Le Grange waiting. 
 Constance looked her full in the eye ; and sud 
 denly her hands went up to her own face and 
 she surrendered herself to her misery. And 
 oddly enough, she turned in her distress not 
 to her friend and companion Betsy-Barbara, 
 but to this strange woman. As a bruised child 
 runs to its mother, she ran to Rosalie Le 
 Grange and bowed a weary head upon her 
 shoulder. Rosalie took her to the bosom on 
 which in her own queer way she had borne 
 the burdens of thousands for thirty years long. 
 
 "You poor lamb!" she exclaimed; "you poor 
 lamb! Now it s going to be all right, dearie 
 and you re comin home with me!" 
 
 "And that!" said Rosalie Le Grange as she 
 retold this tale to the only person who ever 
 enjoyed her full confidence, "was the queerest 
 way that ever I saw of solicitin custom for a 
 boardin -house."
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 A MAN WHO LAUGHS 
 
 will become of me?" wailed 
 Mrs. Moore to Rosalie Le Grange. 
 And Rosalie f orebore at first to answer, for the 
 ultimate destiny of Mrs. Moore appeared, in 
 deed, black and uncertain. 
 
 Not that undulation and gnashing of teeth 
 meant anything in her case. Weeping, for her, 
 was the oil on the wheels of life. She wept 
 when the butcher failed to bring the lamb 
 chops, when she was moved by song, when she 
 compared the luxuries of Madame Le Grange s 
 house to the bare necessities of her own. Still, 
 in this instance, she had cause for grief. The 
 police, having ransacked, measured, and photo 
 graphed the Moore boarding-house to the limit 
 of their imagination, announced after four days 
 that Mrs. Moore might bring her establishment 
 back. But when Mrs. Moore notified the 
 boarders, she met the expected. Miss Hard- 
 
 74
 
 75 
 
 ing, for example, declared that she was going 
 to let well enough alone. After what had hap 
 pened she could never sleep in that place again. 
 When Mrs. Moore melted to tears, Miss Hard 
 ing grew peppery. If Mrs. Moore wanted to 
 know, it was towels, more than anything else, 
 which kept her at Mrs. Le Grange s. She 
 had boarded in ten separate and distinct places 
 in New York, and never before did she see a 
 place where you couldn t use the towels for a 
 pocket-handkerchief. Miss Jones, her echo in 
 everything, indorsed her sentiments, adding 
 that Mrs. Le Grange s coffee was coffee. 
 
 Professor Noll was more courteous, but just 
 as firm. He had already indicated his inten 
 tions by getting permission from the police to 
 move his collection. When Mrs. Moore inter 
 viewed him, he was tacking on the wall a six- 
 foot Japanese kakemono. He was sorry, but 
 the greater variety of menu at Mrs. Le 
 Grange s helped him to practise the principles 
 of scientific alimentation. If Mrs. Moore 
 would listen to his former advice and reor 
 ganize her catering on the scientific plan, he 
 could guarantee her a houseful of his disciples. 
 Otherwise, he preferred to stay where he was.
 
 76 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 Mr. North, just out of jail, had not put in an 
 appearance. Mrs. Moore did not even attempt 
 to see Miss Estrilla. That lady was worse, a 
 great deal worse. Besides the old trouble with 
 her optic nerve, she had a kind of nervous pros 
 tration due to the shock. There had been talk 
 of a trained nurse; but Rosalie Le Grange 
 waved that proposal aside. She herself carried 
 up the invalid s meals, attended to bandages 
 and medicines, kept order in her room. Mrs. 
 Moore had no offering to counterbalance that. 
 
 Instead floppy and humble old person that 
 she was Mrs. Moore sought her successful 
 rival, begging quarter. 
 
 "What can I do what is going to become of 
 me?" she repeated. 
 
 Rosalie Le Grange pulled out a chair and 
 gently pushed Mrs. Moore into it. 
 
 "Now let s talk this over sensible," she said. 
 "It certainly does look as if I d played it low on 
 you, gettin your boarders away. You can t 
 blame me for offerin my place that night. 
 Neither can you blame me if they want to stay. 
 I haven t asked them to." 
 
 Here Mrs. Moore showed a shade of mushy 
 resentment.
 
 A MAN WHO LAUGHS 77 
 
 "You set a better table than I can set at the 
 price they pay," she said. "You can t keep 
 that up. If that ain t getting them away from 
 me" 
 
 "You rent your house, don t you?" inquired 
 Rosalie Le Grange. 
 
 "Yes," replied Mrs. Moore, dabbing her 
 eyes. 
 
 "Rent it furnished?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Has it been full lately?" 
 
 "No. I ve had room for four more all spring 
 and summer. Times are dreadful hard " 
 Mrs. Moore ceased to weep for herself and 
 dropped a tear over the whole state of the body 
 politic. 
 
 "You haven t made much money then?" 
 
 "Money!" sobbed Mrs. Moore, breaking out 
 afresh on her own account, "I scarcely keep 
 soul and body together I barely hold a roof 
 over my head." 
 
 "It hasn t occurred to you, I guess," said 
 Rosalie Le Grange, "that I own this house and 
 furniture. I haven t got any rent to pay. 
 Moreover, with this Mrs. Hanska and Miss 
 Lane, who came in unexpected, an some partic-
 
 78 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 ular personal friends that are comin next 
 week, I ll be full up. Guess you can see how 
 I make it pay. Guess you can afford to take 
 back what you said about my keeping up a 
 grade of victuals that I couldn t afford regular, 
 just to git custom away from you." 
 
 Outmaneuvered, Mrs. Moore flopped. 
 
 "What will become of me!" she wailed. 
 
 "Now, Mrs. Moore," said Rosalie, "with the 
 high rent they charged you for the old place, 
 there was no future for you. You were bound 
 to fail. I ve got a better way. I m busy, an 
 I m goin to be busier. You see this house 
 well, it ain t my only interest. An jest at 
 present I m rushed to death. Goodness knows, 
 standin off reporters the way I ve had to do 
 this last week, is one woman s job. I ve got to 
 hire a housekeeper to look after things an tend 
 front door an help out with the cleaning. 
 How would you like that? Over there, you 
 were carryin the whole thing an workin for 
 your board. Here, you ll git thirty-five a 
 month, an I ll do the worryin ." 
 
 "Oh, Mrs. Le Grange!" wailed Mrs. Moore; 
 and this time the moving emotion was grati 
 tude-
 
 A MAN WHO LAUGHS 79 
 
 So, at the end of a mighty anxious and per 
 turbing week, the old Moore household settled 
 down on Rosalie Le Grange, shook itself to 
 gether again, and returned to the dull routine 
 of its days. Professor Noll rode his hobby as 
 gaily as ever. Miss Harding resumed her 
 vocation of typing and her avocation of study 
 ing man for her uses. Miss Jones continued 
 to imitate her roommate in her own shadowy 
 and futile way. Miss Estrilla grew no better; 
 still she remained in her room, visited daily by 
 the doctor, nightly by her brother and hourly 
 by Rosalie. 
 
 The two new boarders they were longest 
 naturally in settling to the routine. Indeed, 
 two or three days passed before the others grew 
 acclimated to their thrilling and somewhat per 
 turbing presence. But Constance and Betsy- 
 Barbara behaved through a soul-racking week 
 in such manner as to secure Rosalie s growing 
 affections and to win the respect of the rest. 
 Until after the harrowing funeral and the more 
 harrowing Coroner s inquest, Constance kept 
 to her room. There was special need for that ; 
 in spite of all Rosalie s tact, she was a woman 
 besieged. The newspapers kept her under fire.
 
 80 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 First came the police reporters. Constance 
 saw them once. The interview was very little 
 garbled, on the whole, even though one yellow 
 evening newspaper did make her say, in type 
 three inches high, "I loved Lawrence Wade 
 is not that enough?" Then, when she refused 
 any more interviews, came the feminine sym 
 pathy writers. One of them pushed past the 
 guard in a moment when Rosalie was away 
 and got an interview which won her a bonus 
 from the city editor. Others pecked at her 
 during her passage from the house to the fu 
 neral or the inquest, supplying with imagination 
 and description what they lacked of informa 
 tion. "She is like a Venus with a convent 
 education," wrote one. That, perhaps, de 
 scribes Constance Hanska better than I can. 
 When she went abroad, she faced batteries of 
 clicking camera shutters. Her photograph, to 
 gether with impressionist drawings more or less 
 accurate, blazoned the front page of every 
 afternoon extra. Parenthetically, let me men 
 tion that to Miss Harding these pictures formed 
 the most thrilling feature of the whole affair. 
 On the day after the inquest, an afternoon yel 
 low, being short of news and imagination, made
 
 A MAN WHO LAUGHS 81 
 
 an extra of the "Three Beautiful Women in 
 the Hanska Case." They were Constance, 
 Betsy-Barbara and Miss Katherine Harding. 
 Publicly, Miss Harding affected to be injured 
 in all her finer feelings; secretly, she bought 
 ten copies. As for Lawrence Wade, his breed 
 ing, his athletic career, his personal comeliness 
 but Lawrence Wade will enter in his proper 
 place. 
 
 The newspapers were not the only extra irri 
 tation. Mrs. Hanska s mail grew until the 
 postman approached the Le Grange boarding- 
 house looking like Christmas and departed 
 looking like Monday morning. Clipping 
 bureaus, private-detective agencies, young men 
 who wanted to be detectives, unknown but cor 
 dial friends their letters came by dozens, by 
 scores, by hundreds. Ill-spelled notes from 
 Mills Hotels hinted at mysterious knowledge. 
 A man wrote from a sanatorium in New Jersey 
 to say that he himself committed the murder 
 because Captain Hanska had assisted Napo 
 leon and Mary Queen of Scots to pester the 
 author s astral body. There were two offers to 
 star in vaudeville, three to pose for moving-pic 
 tures and proposals enough to accommodate all
 
 82 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 New England. After the first day, Constance 
 never saw these letters. Betsy-Barbara, her 
 consoler and amanuensis, read them and de 
 stroyed them unanswered. She discussed them 
 with Rosalie alone. 
 
 On the morning after the inquest, Constance 
 quietly took her place at the common table in 
 the dining-room. The rest of the boarders 
 stilled their tongues for embarrassment. And 
 not only embarrassment; undoubtedly there 
 was prejudice. Rosalie, presiding at the head 
 of the table, did not make the mistake of trying 
 to lull this feeling immediately. She let mat 
 ters take their course for two meals. At the 
 third, she tactfully drew Constance into an 
 argument over the distance to Paris. That 
 served for an opening. Little by little, the 
 sweetness of Constance, as exploited by Rosalie 
 Le Grange, made its own way. What had 
 been a kind of horror of a woman in her situa 
 tion, became pity and sympathy. 
 
 As for Betsy-Barbara, that sprightly young 
 person was popular from the first. She took 
 hold of the Hanska-Wade case as though its 
 settlement devolved upon -her alone. Within 
 three days she had interviewed every one in the
 
 A MAN WHO LAUGHS 83 
 
 house, from Mrs. Moore to Miss Estrilla, and 
 had formed a half-dozen theories, all proving 
 the innocence of Lawrence Wade. It mat 
 tered not that Rosalie, already her confidant, 
 shattered all these bubbles. Betsy-Barbara 
 would simply interview her witness again, and 
 blow another. Constance was her daily and 
 hourly care. 
 
 "She s bearing it," said Betsy-Barbara, re 
 porting to Rosalie Le Grange, "as I expected 
 she would. Me I d be crying on everybody s 
 shoulder. She does her crying alone but it s 
 telling on her. As for him he s splendid. 
 Just bully ! That s the only way to put it." 
 
 I leave to the newspapers the official events 
 "the developments" of that week. Indeed, 
 they reported few essentials which we do not al 
 ready know. The inquest was over ; the body 
 of Captain Hanska had traveled the road of 
 flesh to the crematory; Lawrence Wade was 
 held in the Tombs without bail, to await ac 
 tion of the Grand Jury. The evidence against 
 him was circumstantial but strong. He had 
 proposed marriage to Mrs. Hanska. Both he 
 and his attorney tried to keep that out when 
 Constance went on the stand ; they lost, and she
 
 84 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 told the fact with a simplicity which filled 
 columns and columns of space next morning. 
 She insisted that he never mentioned marriage 
 after she told him her story. Lawrence Wade, 
 naturally, wanted a divorce. Captain Hanska 
 had refused. There was the motive, perfect, 
 comprehensible. Wade and Hanska had met 
 twice before and quarreled both times. On the 
 night of the tragedy, Lawrence Wade, carry 
 ing a hand-bag, had gone to Captain Hanska s 
 room at about ten o clock. The bag contained, 
 among other things, two knives. 
 
 Lawrence Wade admitted this ; and admitted 
 also that he had left all the debris which littered 
 Captain Hanska s table. "That was part of 
 my errand," he said. He had gone from Mrs. 
 Moore s to the Curfew Club, had found from 
 the desk clerk that there was a one o clock train 
 to Boston, had telephoned for a berth, had 
 taken the train, had been arrested in Boston 
 while engaging passage for Liverpool. At 
 half past two, Captain Hanska had been found 
 dead stabbed in the heart with a clean thrust 
 by one of the very knives which Wade admitted 
 bringing from Arden. The Coroner s physi 
 cian testified that Hanska had been dead an
 
 A MAN WHO LAUGHS 85 
 
 hour, and probably much longer. The knife 
 traveled an upward course. Nothing about 
 the bed indicated any struggle; moreover, the 
 experts said, it was nearly impossible for a 
 man so large and so heavy to regain his feet 
 after such a stroke. He must have been 
 stabbed standing. If so, the thrust came from 
 the "front" of the murderer s hand a fencer s 
 blow. And there was no doubt that Wade was 
 a fencer. At this point in the proceedings, 
 Rosalie Le Grange, sitting in the family group 
 with Constance and Lawrence Wade s vener 
 able father, might have seemed visibly de 
 pressed had any reporter taken the -trouble to 
 watch this mere landlady. 
 
 Indeed and the newspapers made signifi 
 cant comment on this the putative defend 
 ant, although a lawyer himself, admitted all 
 these facts except touching upon his relations 
 with Mrs. Hanska. He admitted his feeling 
 against Hanska. He volunteered the opinion 
 that such a man deserved killing. On the night 
 of the murder, he said, they had quarreled 
 again. Hanska had refused all proposals. 
 Thereupon he had taken that consignment of 
 small possessions out of the bag, and had de-
 
 86 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 parted. On one point alone was he vague. 
 He did not tell fully why he had started so 
 suddenly for Europe. "I was afraid to 
 stay," he said once. His attorneys intimated 
 that he would explain this, also, if there were 
 further proceedings. On this point, Constance 
 committed her only indiscretion. It was that 
 very afternoon when the feminine "sympathy 
 writer" succeeded in reaching her. "I know 
 why he did that," Constance told her, "and I ll 
 tell you, if he won t. He could do me no fur 
 ther good and he was afraid of what he 
 might do to Captain Hanska. He said before 
 he left for New York that if he failed I might 
 not see him for a long time." 
 
 And so the Coroner s jury found that John 
 H. Hanska came to his death from a knife 
 wound at the hands of Lawrence Wade or 
 persons unknown, and recommended that the 
 said Lawrence Wade be held to await action 
 of the Grand Jury. He went back to the 
 Tombs under guard a straight, clean, stal 
 wart figure of a young man, seeming, in con 
 trast with the court-room lawyers, the shysters, 
 the followers of sensation, like an eagle who 
 has been captured by sparrow-hawks and buz-
 
 A MAN WHO LAUGHS 87 
 
 zards. He did not look at Constance as he 
 marched away, nor she at him, and the report 
 ers must needs conjecture what happened be 
 tween them in their two interviews through 
 the bars of the Tombs. They could not know 
 how bravely and humanly simple were the talks 
 between this man and this woman. 
 
 Here and now, the corporeal presence of 
 Lawrence Wade shall fade for a time from this 
 story. He is like every jeune premier in every 
 tale of crime and mystery. Although the mat 
 ters related concern him most of all, he is still 
 the least active character involved ; he has least 
 to do with the final solution of events. By de 
 vices which I consider unfair to the reader, I 
 might keep Lawrence Wade in the foreground ; 
 I might even play intruder at some of his 
 bravely pathetic meetings with Constance Han- 
 ska. But all this would have nothing to do 
 with my story. His hands are strong, his heart 
 is firm, his judgment clear; yet his fate lies 
 in weaker hands and hearts and judgments. 
 
 You have, of course, concluded by this time 
 that he is innocent. Perhaps you are right; 
 the unfolding of this tale will tell. Leave him 
 now in the Tombs, to play his own native reso-
 
 88 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 lution against the forces of darkness and to 
 gather what consolation he may from the visits 
 of his Lady of Sorrows and of her little golden 
 girl-comrade. 
 
 The next day, an aviator accomplished some 
 thing new in the advertising annals of the air. 
 He eloped by aeroplane. It is true that he 
 had no need of eloping, the family-in-law be 
 ing as willing as his actress-bride. The young 
 couple merely chose that method as a way of 
 starting prosperously on the road of life. But 
 the newspapers, in view of this dazzling pic 
 ture-story, inquired not too closely regarding 
 motives. And scarcely had news of this event 
 given way to impressions of special writers, 
 when a train went over a trestle in Connecti 
 cut. By the time the papers had finished with 
 this, the Hanska Case had dwindled to two-inch 
 items, single head. The District Attorney de 
 layed, the Grand Jury delayed, the police de 
 layed, while the forces of Martin McGee 
 combed New York and New England for evi 
 dence bearing upon the life and career of Law 
 rence Wade. 
 
 But one more glimpse of Lawrence before
 
 A MAN WHO LAUGHS 89 
 
 we leave him ; and here let me quote Inspector 
 McGee. Entering his private office in a state 
 of suppressed irritation bordering on fury, the 
 Inspector met his doorman. Long contact had 
 given this inferior the privilege of familiarity 
 with the truly great. 
 
 "How are your Third Degree proceedings 
 getting on, Chief?" he asked. 
 
 "Damn him!" cried Martin McGee heartily; 
 "damn him! What are you going to do with 
 a man when he laughs at you?"
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 TOMMY NORTH 
 
 TOMMY NORTH, after the first day, was 
 a pawn in this game a captured pawn, 
 laid to one side of the board. The police held 
 him, it is true, until after the Coroner s verdict ; 
 then, without apology, the turnkey cast him 
 loose. His first concern was for his mother 
 in the village of White Horse, Connecticut. 
 Only by false assurances and by the assistance 
 of an aunt, who hid the newspapers from her, 
 did he succeed in keeping her away from New 
 York. He hurried to her, and in two days 
 mollified her anger not at his being accused 
 of murder, but at his being drunk. He re 
 turned to find his job gone. Tommy North 
 took such catastrophies more philosophically 
 than most. He had filled and lost a dozen 
 jobs in three years of New York. "Easy 
 come, easy go," was his motto as he told 
 Rosalie Le Grange when he called to take away 
 
 90
 
 TOMMY NORTH 91 
 
 his possessions, removed by her from the Moore 
 house. 
 
 "I d like to stay," he told her, "but I want 
 to get the taste of this thing out of my mouth." 
 He sat down on his trunk and looked depres 
 sion. And depression, somehow, rested ill 
 upon that frank freckled countenance with its 
 shock of unruly red hair. "Wouldn t seem so 
 bad if you didn t have all the murder company 
 here. But I m sensitive, I guess. I ve lost my 
 job on account of this. I m a marked man." 
 
 "Now look a-here, Mr. North," said Rosalie, 
 carefully folding one of his coats. "You don t 
 never want to say that. People ain t marked 
 unless they mark themselves. I ve seen the 
 littlest things in the world just hammer people 
 through the floor, and I ve seen the biggest 
 scandals lived clean down. It s all in the way 
 you face it. If you re afraid, and act like 
 you re afraid, then you re gone. Just treat it 
 like it hadn t happened. That s the way." 
 
 "It wouldn t have ruined my young reputa 
 tion entirely," pursued Tommy North, giving 
 way to his depression now that he had a sym 
 pathetic listener, "if I hadn t indulged in a 
 little extra illumination that night. And take
 
 92 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 it from me, on the word of a volunteer fireman,, 
 from Alpine, Mich., Pioneer Hose, Number 
 Three, every single burner was going when I 
 got home. People would sympathize with me 
 for being arrested, now that it s proved that I 
 had nothing to do with the case. But being 
 drunk is different oh, very different." 
 
 "Tell me," said Rosalie pausing from fold 
 ing coats and regarding him, arms akimbo, "do 
 you really like the stuff?" 
 
 Tommy North, unaccustomed to self -analy 
 sis, turned this over in his mind for several 
 seconds. 
 
 "Well, no," he said at length, "can t say 
 I do. I suppose everybody loathes the Demon 
 when he s going down. Course, I always say, 
 Smooth! with the rest of them, even when it 
 tears my diaphragm like a disk harrow. No, I 
 don t like the taste of it. Anyhow, I ve got so 
 that no one suspects my maiden emotions. I 
 don t make a face or choke any longer." 
 
 "Was this the first time you were ever drunk 
 then?" 
 
 "The first!" said Tommy. "The first! 
 Nearer the hundred and seventy-seventh and 
 a few j aglets beside."
 
 TOMMY NORTH 93 
 
 "I ve got your number," said Rosalie Le 
 Grange. "There s a small million like you. 
 Let me tell you about yourself. You re 
 young. You ve.got neither family nor girl here 
 in New York. There s nothing for you to do 
 nights but to meet the boys. An you begin 
 to pour it down. The next thing you know, 
 or don t know, you re drunk an uncomfortable. 
 Ain t that so?" 
 
 "Uncomfortable!" exclaimed Tommy North; 
 "when I m drunk? Woman, I own New 
 York! I have an option on the Hudson Ter 
 minal and a mortgage on the Singer Building. 
 Of course, the next morning when I m un- 
 drunk, there s a pale Jerseyish cast over the 
 face of things." This was the first time in his 
 life that Tommy North had ever admitted a 
 "hangover." He used to tell his companions 
 that hard liquor was his beefsteak. 
 
 "Well, then I suppose there s no use askin ," 
 went on Rosalie, "why you do it. It s because 
 there s nothing else to do. Your play is to find 
 something just as absorbin and as excitin as 
 liquor, but not quite so foolish." 
 
 "Sure!" said Tommy. "The pot of gold at 
 the end ol the rainbow, or Captain Kidd s
 
 94 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 treasure. Anyhow, I m going away from 
 here." 
 
 Now, Mr. North," said Rosalie, "there s 
 two ways of facing a thing down stay, an go. 
 Which is better, I don t know. Which is 
 braver, I do. Here s a room for you. Board 
 here the rest of this week on me while you 
 look around an if you think then that goin s 
 the best way, then go." 
 
 Tommy North, inured to an atmosphere 
 wherein none gives something for nothing, re 
 garded Rosalie Le Grange with a look in which 
 gratitude struggled with suspicion. 
 
 "You re thinkin ," responded Rosalie, reach 
 ing out to seize his thought, "that this is just 
 my play to fill my boardin -house. Think it 
 if you want to. But this is my proposition: 
 you keep this room free until Monday, an if 
 you want, you can have it permanent at twelve 
 a week, which is what you paid Mrs. Moore." 
 
 "I m sure I m much obliged," said Tommy, 
 suspicion departing. "I ll stay the week out, 
 and make up my mind." 
 
 "Sensible," replied Rosalie. "I ll send up 
 towels and dinner s at six-thirty." 
 
 Now it happened that just before Tommy
 
 TOMMY NORTH 95 
 
 North left his room for dinner that evening, 
 an hour of solitary thought had brought him 
 to the nadir of his existence. Position gone 
 reputation (as he thought) gone a charity 
 guest in a boarding-house. For so, in his 
 young melancholy, he translated the kindness 
 of Rosalie Le Grange. Their conversation, 
 reinforcing his bad two days with his mother, 
 had piled remorse on his other miseries. He 
 did drink too much. He was branded a drunk 
 ard; and no one wanted a drunkard. Vague 
 ideas of beginning again in a new land floated 
 through his mind. The life was out of him; 
 and when life has gone out of the soul in this 
 fashion, the Lord of Life is ever waiting to 
 enter and take possession. Which is by way of 
 introducing Betsy-Barbara. 
 
 We have taken little time to consider Betsy- 
 Barbara. Let us view her now, as she stands, 
 dressed in a blue frock for dinner, tapping at 
 Constance s door. Betsy-Barbara s flesh and 
 spirit were twenty-four ; her heart was eighteen ; 
 her purpose was forty. In complexion, in such 
 accessories of complexion as eyes and hair, in 
 the hidden soul, she was a white creature, light- 
 shot. Whenever even the darkest ray touched
 
 96 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 her hair, it flickered with gold. In full sun 
 shine, even her brows and lashes glittered and 
 twinkled. Her mouth was large and gener 
 ously irregular; her nose was small and whim 
 sically irregular; her violet-blue eyes were as 
 clear as pools. Why the regularity of a Greek 
 statue may go with absolute ugliness, and why 
 features which fail to match may produce real 
 beauty, is a question too hard for you or me or 
 any other connoisseur of beauty. Now Betsy- 
 Barbara, with a mouth all too large and a nose 
 all too small and a pair of eyes which could not 
 be classified for size, was ravishingly pretty. 
 Of course, expression entered into the equation 
 with Betsy-Barbara. She was eternally as 
 suming a schoolmistress sternness which made 
 a piquant contrast with the fresh skin of her, the 
 blue eyes of her, the little pop-corn teeth that 
 made her half elf, half butterfly. And when, 
 in her schoolmistress solicitude over her lis 
 tener as over a bad boy she laughed, the 
 world s whole merriment was in her laughter. 
 Betsy-Barbara had not really laughed for 
 many days now. But she was young ; the tides 
 of life were flowing back. And as she stood 
 there, waiting for Constance to rise and open
 
 TOMMY NORTH 97 
 
 the door, her merriment took flame from some 
 sleepy remark. In that precise psychological 
 moment, all planted by the fates, Tommy 
 North came down the hall on his way to dinner. 
 The laugh arrested him dead. The gaslight 
 was on her hair so that it tumbled over her 
 head "like a heap of pulled molasses candy," 
 he told himself. The door opened then. She 
 vanished like a golden fairy caught in a mist 
 of vapor. 
 
 A minute later, Tommy North was sitting in 
 the dining-room at Rosalie s right waiting for 
 something. He found himself in a state of em 
 barrassment uncommon with him. What was 
 he that he should talk to a decent girl? And 
 would she know that he was the branded? 
 But when, a moment later, she trailed in behind 
 Constance like a luminous shadow, when Rosa 
 lie introduced them both by name, and when he 
 recognized them as the women in the Hanska 
 affair, one part of his embarrassment floated 
 away. 
 
 Indeed, Constance herself did the simply 
 tactful thing by referring to the matter at once. 
 The other boarders had not yet come; they 
 were alone with Rosalie.
 
 98 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 "I am so glad," she said, "that they have fi 
 nally let you off, Mr. North. Nobody could 
 have had any idea that you were guilty. It 
 must have been a horrible experience." She 
 stopped, and her eyes fixed on something across 
 the room. "Horrible," she repeated. 
 
 "But everybody s going to get off easily, just 
 as Mr. North did you wait!" said Betsy- 
 Barbara, touching her hand with a consoling 
 little pat. Now the others were come. Miss 
 Harding acknowledged Tommy s presence 
 with a lift of her eyes which said: "Well, 
 you re out of your latest scrape, aren t you?" 
 Miss Jones was plainly thrilled by the proxim 
 ity of this now famous personage; Profes 
 sor Noll, lost in the metrical mastication of a 
 new wheat-and-oats compound prepared by 
 Rosalie, showed plainly his ignorance of the 
 fact that Mr. North had been away at all. 
 
 What they thought had now become a mat 
 ter of entire indifference to Tommy North. 
 The rest of the boarders put down his rapt 
 silence to embarrassment over his late experi 
 ence ; and they left him out of the conversation. 
 It was just as well. When Miss Harding re-
 
 TOMMY NORTH 99 
 
 marked, "Wasn t that a terrible accident up in 
 the Bronx?" he would have answered, had he 
 been required to answer, "They are just the 
 blue of periwinkles." When Professor Noll 
 said in his heavy and formal way, "Yes, indeed 
 oh, yes, indeed!" he would have said that the 
 question as a matter of fact it referred to the 
 weather had run, "Hasn t she a wonderful 
 mouth?" Twice he laughed uproariously, 
 causing Miss Harding to remark that he was 
 getting back his spirits, anyhow. This was 
 when Betsy-Barbara ventured a mild joke. 
 Twice again she included him in the conversa 
 tion. Once she asked for the butter, which im 
 pelled him to reach frantically for the salt, and 
 once she referred to him the question whether 
 one could reach City Hall, Brooklyn, sooner 
 by trolley or by subway, whereat he got tem 
 porary reputation as a joker by answering 
 "both." He sat dazed through the soup, ec 
 static through the roast, and rapt through the 
 dessert. Only when Betsy-Barbara and Con 
 stance rose together, did he remember that he 
 had finished long ago. And then something 
 happened which scattered the mists about him
 
 100 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 and brought him full into sunlight. Betsy- 
 Barbara had turned at the door turned back 
 to him. 
 
 "Mr. North," she said, "would it be possible 
 for me to speak to you alone this evening? 
 You see," she went on before he got tongue to 
 reply, "both Mrs. Hanska and I are working 
 as hard as we can on this case. Mrs. Hanska is 
 almost prostrated by the dreadfulness of it all. 
 I m trying to spare her as much as possible. I 
 heard you testify, of course. But I thought 
 I d like to talk to you myself. Perhaps there s 
 something some tiny, tiny little thing that 
 you d never thought of before, which would 
 make all the difference in the world. It might 
 be the means of saving Lawrence Mr. Wade 
 for, of course, he s innocent. I do hope you 
 realize that, Mr. North. And I hope you ll 
 help us in any way you can." 
 
 Now as to Mr. Wade, Tommy North held 
 his own theories or had up to this moment. 
 Of course it was Wade. In his lonely and 
 hysterical apprehensions at the Tombs, he had 
 been forced to nail the crime to some other sus 
 pect in order to save his own reason. His mind 
 had fastened like a leech on Wade. For Mrs.
 
 TOMMY NORTH 101 
 
 Hanska he had felt vaguely sorry, especially 
 after his one sight of her. But this blue-and- 
 gold elf had pronounced edict. To Tommy 
 North, henceforth, Lawrence Wade was as 
 innocent as the traditional babe unborn. 
 
 "Of course he didn t do it," Tommy asserted 
 valiantly. "I ll help all I can, I m sure," he 
 added. Then eagerly, "Now?" 
 
 "The drawing-room is empty if you want to 
 talk," said Rosalie from the door. She turned 
 away with a smile on her lips and a glint in 
 her eye. And Tommy sat down before his 
 inquisitor. It was little he added to the evi 
 dence, prolong this pleasant Third Degree as 
 he might . He could but retell the story. 
 Only one thing he evaded, dodged, eluded. It 
 was his condition on that night. And suddenly 
 Betsy-Barbara, in her best schoolmistress man 
 ner, came out with it. 
 
 "Now one other thing," she said. "I beg 
 your pardon for being so personal, but weren t 
 you a little a little " She floundered for 
 a word, and suddenly the whole face of her be 
 came a rose petal. "Only slightly I mean, of 
 course but weren t you?" 
 
 "I wasn t a little or even slightly, " said
 
 102 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 Tommy, writhing in an agony of shame, "I 
 was entirely." 
 
 For a second time that day, a woman looked 
 on him with eyes of rebuke. Momentarily, 
 Betsy-Barbara left the main track. 
 
 "And why did you do it?" she inquired. 
 "Not that it s my business, perhaps. I only 
 wondered." 
 
 "I don t know," said Tommy, "I just kept 
 on drinking until this was all my world. I 
 guess," he added suddenly, "there was nothing 
 else to do." This came to him as a bright and 
 perfect answer. He was totally unconscious 
 that he had quoted Rosalie Le Grange. 
 
 Betsy-Barbara smiled and wagged her head, 
 so that the shaft of golden light across her hair 
 shifted from left to right and from right to 
 left. 
 
 "In New York?" she said. "Nothing else 
 in New York?" 
 
 Unaccountably Tommy North s tongue un 
 locked itself, what with the necessity of de 
 fending himself; and he talked. 
 
 "Well, that s all a woman knows about it. I 
 can t spend my time riding on the Rubberneck 
 Wagon, can I? When the whistle blows, a
 
 TOMMY NORTH 103 
 
 man feels like doing something. I don t al 
 ways want to feed in a joint like this. Some 
 times I want to get some fancy eats. So I 
 percolate through Lobster Lane " 
 
 "Oh," exclaimed Betsy-Barbara, "what a 
 quaint name !" 
 
 "I mean Broadway," explained Tommy. 
 "Well, I get a cocktail or two or maybe three, 
 according to whom I meet. Then I eat and 
 drink and when we beat it out on to Benzine 
 Byway " 
 
 "What a weird name!" commented Betsy- 
 Barbara. 
 
 "Broadway again," said Tommy North, 
 pausing only an instant. "And by that time, 
 it s all lighted up and my friends are all 
 lighted up and I m all lighted up, and we 
 proceed down the Twinkling Trail " 
 
 "Broadway, I suppose," interpolated Betsy- 
 Barbara. 
 
 "Yes," said Tommy, "the Riotous Route is 
 another of its aliases. And the first thing I 
 know it s two-thirty A. M. and I m in my room 
 admiring my own imitation of a young gentle 
 man of Gotham going to bed, a knock-about 
 act seldom equaled on any stage. But you
 
 104 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 needn t deliver that James B. Gough oration I 
 see trembling on your lips. I don t need it. 
 I ve got mine all right. I ve lost my job to 
 day on account of being entirely. 
 
 To Betsy-Barbara, herself engaged in the 
 economic struggle, this fact seemed more im 
 portant than to Tommy. 
 
 "You have?" she exclaimed. "Oh, I m so 
 sorry! I ve given up my position in Arden 
 in order to be with Constance and I don t 
 know how I shall live after three months. 
 But something will turn up, I m sure. Had 
 you held your place long?" 
 
 "Six months or so," replied Tommy. 
 "That s all right. I can find another I guess 
 or could if this hadn t got into the papers." 
 
 "Well, I m awfully sorry," said Betsy-Bar 
 bara, rising, "but such wonderful things hap 
 pen to people in New York. Everybody s 
 a Dick Whittington here. Only if I were 
 you I wouldn t " She paused and looked at 
 him very seriously. 
 
 "No," replied Tommy, docilely, "I won t." 
 And his heart added, "Not while you re 
 around." But his lips "Remember, if there 
 is anything I can do."
 
 TOMMY NORTH 105 
 
 "Oh, thank you!" replied Betsy-Barbara; 
 "goodnight!" 
 
 At the door of the dining-room next morn 
 ing, Rosalie Le Grange met Mr. North. 
 
 "Thought my proposition over?" she asked. 
 
 "Yes. I guess I ll stay," replied Tommy, 
 shortly. 
 
 "Thought you would," replied Rosalie. 
 And as she entered before him, she was smiling 
 into the air. Decidedly, she was enriching her 
 life in these days with vicarious troubles, but 
 also with vicarious joys.
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 TWIN STABS 
 
 A NOTHER week has passed, and the po- 
 xV lice still report "no progress" on the 
 Wade-Hanska murder case, now a back num 
 ber with the newspapers a story laid aside. 
 Wade, scorning, he says, all lawyer-tricks, 
 waits in the Tombs until the police shall have 
 finished and turned the matter over to the 
 mercies of the Grand Jury. The week has 
 been equally quiet at the select boarding-house 
 maintained by Rosalie Le Grange a quiet 
 overlain with gloom and yet illuminated with 
 human sympathy and even gaiety. Gradually 
 the household has become a body of Wade 
 partisans. That, although they know it not, 
 is due to Constance. Her somber sweetness, 
 which persisted even in her desperate situa 
 tion, has moved them; and emotion has per 
 suaded reason and opinion, as it always will 
 until we become intellectual machines. 
 
 106
 
 TWIN STARS 107 
 
 Out of the shadows twinkle two stars 
 Betsy-Barbara and Tommy North. Rosalie 
 in jest, and Professor Noll in earnest, call 
 Betsy-Barbara "the little household fairy." 
 Engaged though she is in a tragic guardian 
 ship, she is also young and sprightly and a 
 village girl fresh to the wonder of New York. 
 Rosalie is the quiet force, but Betsy-Barbara 
 the visible focus, which draws them all together. 
 She brings to their consideration of Manhattan 
 all the small-town intimacy of interest. She 
 brings to their intercourse the country habit 
 of asking help, and accepting kindness, as a 
 matter of course. She asks counsel of Miss 
 Harding and Miss Jones on her autumn 
 clothes. In her spare moments she sews in 
 dustriously with Rosalie Le Grange drop 
 ping meantime those confidences which flow 
 at sewing-bees. The orphan of a country 
 clergyman and a schoolmistress, she has at her 
 finger-tips all the arts of play. Whenever 
 the household stays in of nights, she gathers 
 them together over hearts or bridge; when 
 cards grow stale, she is capable of getting con 
 tagious fun out of charades or anagrams. She 
 even starts experimenting with table-tipping
 
 108 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 and wonders vaguely why Rosalie Le 
 Grange seems uninterested in that one of their 
 sports alone and manages to break it up on 
 the first excuse. 
 
 As for Tommy North, he assists. He is 
 jester-in-chief to this elfin princess. Also, he 
 makes the Welsh rabbits with which, at her 
 suggestion, they finish off the card-parties. 
 
 "I appoint myself all-night chef to this es 
 tablishment," said Tommy North, as he rolled 
 up his sleeves on the first evening. "Is it 
 possible that there is a hamlet in this happy 
 country so remote that the fame of my Welsh 
 rabbits has not reached it? I learned through 
 toil and suffering other people s. The first 
 one I made is still hanging on the wall of the 
 old farmhouse. After that, an automobile- 
 man saw one of em. Great excitement ! He 
 thought the problem of the rubber substitute 
 was solved. But he little recked. The tires 
 they made of em were all right as long as 
 the auto kept running. But when it stopped 
 out in the country, the field-mice used to come 
 in flocks and risk their lives to nibble those 
 tires. No chemical combination they could 
 ever discover made my Welsh-rabbit tires dis-
 
 TWIN STARS 109 
 
 tasteful to the little creatures. I kept on with 
 my art, till now I m too modest to show you 
 the letter I got from the St. Regis the other 
 day." 
 
 More and more the boarders take to staying 
 at home. This charming life domestic is a 
 novelty in New York, it seems; they revel in 
 the fad. Professor Noll enters into every 
 thing with the simple gaiety of a child. The 
 two stenographers go out of evenings but rarely 
 now. Their young men (Messrs. Dayne and 
 Murphy) entreat Rosalie daily to furnish the 
 attic rooms for them. "Your waiting-list is 
 going to make the Metropolitan Club look like 
 the Ludlow Street jail," remarks Tommy 
 North. 
 
 Mr. Estrilla has developed a way of joining 
 them after his evening visits to his sister; and 
 he brings such a spirit of Latin gaiety that they 
 quit their formal games, and take always to 
 music and conversation when he enters. Ro 
 salie especially delights in him. He has a 
 quick turn of the tongue which matches her 
 own; and they fence with good-natured rep 
 artee. Whenever Estrilla enters the room 
 his eyes travel to Betsy-Barbara and they two
 
 110 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 play in a boy-and-giii spirit very charming 
 and amusing to every one but Tommy North. 
 All speak well of Estrilla. "I guess he s a 
 regular man all right, if he is a wop," says 
 even Tommy. 
 
 Through all the sprightly atmosphere Con 
 stance drifts, a figure quiet and dignified and 
 beautiful and gentle "the tragic Venus." 
 Generally, she joins the parties in the Le 
 Grange parlor. Betsy-Barbara sees to that. 
 Acceding to every desire, making no sugges 
 tions of her own, asking nothing she is slip 
 ping visibly toward melancholy. Days come 
 when she smiles a little, when faint stars gleam 
 in her great eyes; then Betsy-Barbara knows, 
 and the rest conjecture, that some will-o -the- 
 wisp clue has lifted her to a little hope. Nights 
 come when midway in the game her eyes lose 
 their hold on tangible things and fix on some 
 vision mid-air; then Betsy-Barbara knows, and 
 the rest conjecture, that she has been visiting 
 the Tombs. They set themselves to exorcise 
 her demon, each after his own fashion. Bet 
 sy-Barbara is sweetly cajoling, Rosalie subtly 
 encouraging, Miss Harding heavy-handed but
 
 TWIN STARS 111 
 
 contagious, Tommy North jocular, Professor 
 Noll fatherly but all are kind. 
 
 Miss Estrilla alone never joins the group 
 down-stairs. Though her eyes are better, 
 though she can bear some light, she shows a 
 state of debility puzzling to her physician and 
 alarming to her watcher and attendant, Ro 
 salie Le Grange. The doctor advises her to 
 return to a warmer climate before the New 
 York winter sets in like all transplanted Lat 
 ins, she is a very shivery person. She an 
 swers that she can not; her brother s business 
 lies in New York, and she would be unhappy 
 away from him. Once, Rosalie Le Grange 
 suggests a hospital; whereupon Miss Estrilla 
 weeps and begs to remain. Go she will not, 
 though Rosalie once discovers Estrilla arguing 
 the question with her in his perfect English 
 with its pleasant Spanish roll. 
 
 The time came when Rosalie Le Grange de 
 termined to visit Inspector McGee ; she wished 
 to unload some theories of her own concerning 
 the Hanska case. Such visits must be made 
 with all due precaution of secrecy. She chose
 
 112 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 an evening when, as happened seldom nowa 
 days, nearly all the boarders had engagements 
 elsewhere. Mr. Murphy and Mr. Dayne had 
 i nvited the "girls" to the theater; Mr. North 
 was to dine with a man who might give him a 
 job. As a step preliminary to her diploma 
 cies, she telephoned to McGee and made with 
 him an appointment far from the office. Then 
 she approached Betsy-Barbara. 
 
 "It s asking a lot of you, my dear," she 
 said, "but I ve been so busy gettin this place 
 shook together that I haven t had time to mind 
 my own affairs. I ve a cousin in town an I 
 jest haven t had time to pay her any atten 
 tion. It s been simply scandalous the way I ve 
 neglected her. Miss Estrilla is kind of nerv 
 ous to-night, an I hate to leave her alone until 
 her brother comes anyhow, he misses some 
 evenings. Just sit by her an if he shows up 
 you don t have to do even that. Goodness 
 knows, I wish I d got her a nurse at the start 
 instead of tryin to boss the thing myself." 
 
 Betsy-Barbara accepted the new responsibil- 
 ity. 
 
 "I d love it," she said almost cheerfully. 
 "Constance is going to try to get some sleep
 
 TWIN STARS 113 
 
 to-night, and I ll put her to bed right after 
 dinner. And I ve been dying to meet Miss 
 Estrilla." 
 
 Miss Estrilla s appearance appealed at once 
 to Betsy-Barbara s quick sympathies. Her 
 eyes were shaded; further she wore heavy col 
 ored glasses. She was a rather tall and slender 
 woman, Betsy-Barbara decided. Her face, 
 bold in the bony structure, seemed hawk-like 
 with the wasting of illness. There was a kind 
 of exquisite shyness about her which blended 
 perfectly with a punctilious Spanish courtesy. 
 She was Spanish in manner alone, however. 
 She spoke English without a trace of her 
 brother s amusing roll. 
 
 Betsy-Barbara, when the ice was broken, 
 chattered girl-fashion on the events of the day 
 in the boarding-house, avoiding always the sub 
 ject of the tragedy which had drawn them 
 together. Miss Estrilla, though she listened 
 with interest, did not avail herself of openings 
 to respond with chatter of her own. Betsy- 
 Barbara was running down, when she be 
 thought herself of a new resource. 
 
 "I ve brought up the evening paper," she 
 said, "wouldn t you like to have me read it to
 
 114 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 you? There s a splendid elopement in high 
 life." 
 
 "I should like it very much/* replied Miss 
 Estrilla, after a pause at which Betsy -Barbara 
 wondered. 
 
 "I m just crazy about the New York pa 
 pers," resumed Betsy-Barbara, as she perched 
 herself on a table to get at the dim point of 
 light. "The Arabian Nights things that hap 
 pen in this town will drive me crazy yet. Wait 
 just a minute. I must see if they ve found 
 the Hollister baby. I m nearly dead over 
 her!" 
 
 Curiosity satisfied, Betsy-Barbara read the 
 head-lines and rendered in full the stories which 
 Miss Estrilla indicated. She was absorbed in 
 the account of a splendid burglary, when a 
 knock sounded at the door. And Estrilla en 
 tered. 
 
 As he recognized her with a bow of inim 
 itable attention and courtesy, as he crossed the 
 room and tenderly kissed his sister, Betsy- 
 Barbara had, somehow, the feeling that she was 
 meeting a stranger. For the first time, at any 
 rate, she expressed him to herself. "Hand 
 some" was her first mental comment. That
 
 TWIN STARS 115 
 
 marked against him in her books. She dis 
 trusted the handsome male. A man, accord 
 ing to Betsy-Barbara s perfectly clean-cut set 
 of opinions, should be like a bull-terrier ugly, 
 a little rough and awkward, faithful, kind. 
 "But nice in spite of it," was her second 
 thought. She formulated another thing about 
 him in the minute while she watched. His 
 quality was caressing that was the word. 
 The glances of his eye, the attitude of his body, 
 the gestures of his hands, all reminded one of 
 a love-tap. 
 
 Betsy-Barbara took in other details as he 
 faced about and addressed her. He was small 
 but she had always noticed that obvious fact. 
 Looking at the figure on the bed, one would 
 have called the sister the taller of the two. 
 He was nevertheless perfectly formed. He 
 had a plume of black hair which glimmered in 
 the gaslight with a dusky reflection of Betsy- 
 Barbara s native gold-and-satin turban. 
 
 "I have been taking care of your sister, you 
 see," said Betsy-Barbara. 
 
 "Ah! Then what need of me?" replied Es- 
 trilia. 
 
 "She has been kind enough to read me the
 
 116 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 newspapers," rolled the rich contralto of the 
 invalid from the bed. 
 
 "I think you and your sister are wonder 
 fully alike and yet wonderfully different," 
 said Betsy-Barbara, carefully ignoring the per 
 sonal note in Estrilla s remark. 
 
 "The resemblance is a compliment to me 
 the difference what you call a slam," replied 
 Estrilla. 
 
 "I I must be going now," said Betsy-Bar 
 bara in her best schoolmistress manner. 
 
 "I beg you not to deprive us of yourself so 
 soon," replied Estrilla, and, "Please stay," ech 
 oed his sister. 
 
 Betsy-Barbara remembered what she had 
 heard of Spanish politeness its over-elabora 
 tion and over-insistence. But her Anglo- 
 Saxon mind could discover no way to parry 
 with equal politeness. Also she told herself 
 that when one has dwelt too long with tragedy, 
 one wants to be amused. She sat for five min 
 utes, while brother and sister made her the fo 
 cus of their conversation. But she was riot 
 amused. In the presence of his sister, Estrilla 
 appeared a different man from the light fencer 
 with words of their evenings down-stairs. He
 
 TWIN STARS 117 
 
 was grave; he was formal. Infinitely tender 
 toward Miss Estrilla, he was also attentive 
 toward Betsy-Barbara, but he did not play 
 with her as usual. It was puzzling, but a little 
 fascinating, this change. 
 
 In five minutes more, Betsy-Barbara sum 
 moned tact to the aid of manners and maiden 
 modesty. She invented an excuse to shield 
 herself against Spanish politeness, and left Es 
 trilla bowing gravely at the threshold. 
 
 Betsy-Barbara thought first of her responsi 
 bility. Silently she opened Constance s door 
 and tiptoed to the bed. Her Lady of Troubles 
 was asleep. By the night lamp which Con 
 stance kept burning against the demons of 
 her night thoughts, Betsy-Barbara noted the 
 growth of lines in the relaxed face. She sighed 
 and crept back into the hall. There she hesi 
 tated a moment. The house seemed deserted. 
 It was too late for venturing forth alone ; yet, 
 somehow, she must exorcise the vague black 
 visions which began to surround her she who 
 must keep courage for two. Also, something 
 which she could not analyze was stirring dis 
 quiet in her soul. 
 
 "If I only had some work!" she said to her-
 
 118 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 self, and sighed again. So meditating, she 
 wandered aimlessly down-stairs. The doors 
 of the parlor were open ; the lights were on ; the 
 baby-grand piano stood open, inviting. 
 
 "Only merry tunes, though," she warned 
 herself as she sat down. And she started the 
 liviliest jig she knew. Presently, she began to 
 sing in her pleasant untrained voice, which 
 wobbled entrancingly whenever she got out of 
 the middle register. But music is the slave of 
 moods. And before she was aware, her voice 
 was following the strings in old and melancholy 
 love-songs. Now it was Loch Lomond 
 
 "By yon bonnie banks, 
 And by yon bonnie braes, 
 Where the sun shines bright on Loch Lo 
 mond " 
 
 At this point, Betsy-Barbara dropped her 
 hands from the keys, and the music stopped 
 abruptly. She was just aware that a fine 
 floating tenor had been humming the part from 
 the doorway. Senor Estrilla stood looking 
 down on her. 
 
 "My seester has gone to sleep," he said. 
 And then, "That is a Scotch song, is it not?
 
 TWIN STARS 119 
 
 Please go on." Betsy-Barbara smiled, nod 
 ded, resumed her keys; and they sang to 
 gether 
 
 "Where me and my true love 
 Were ever wont to gae 
 On the bonnie, bonnie banks of Loch Lo 
 mond." 
 
 When the song was finished, Estrilla leaned 
 on the piano and looked down at Betsy-Bar 
 bara. His mood seemingly had changed; it 
 was his whim to talk. 
 
 "They are a little cold on the surface, those 
 Scotch love-songs," he said, "though warm be 
 neath, like a volcano. Now we who speak 
 Spanish we can throw our emotions to the 
 surface." 
 
 "Don t you think," responded Betsy-Bar 
 bara, "that to conceal it but to show it s 
 there is the more wonderful way after all?" 
 
 The blood of the MacGregors in Betsy- 
 Barbara was calling her to the defense of her 
 own. 
 
 "Do you happen to know any of our Span 
 ish songs?" pursued Estrilla. 
 
 "Only Juanita, I think and La Paloma."
 
 120 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 Estrilla looked as though he might have 
 laughed but for Spanish politeness. 
 
 "Those are Spanish for outside consump 
 tion, as when the English call your cheap oil 
 cloth is it not American cloth. Let me sing 
 to you but a Spanish song does not go well 
 with the piano " 
 
 "There s a guitar over in the alcove," an 
 nounced Betsy-Barbara. 
 
 "Far-seeing maiden!" exclaimed Estrilla 
 with such a delicious Spanish roll on the vowels 
 that Betsy-Barbara laughed a little; and he, 
 as though understanding, laughed with her. 
 
 So he tuned the guitar, Betsy-Barbara find 
 ing the key for him on the piano. And while 
 he tweaked the strings, he made comment on 
 them, as: 
 
 "This you hear is the angel-string. It is 
 for celestial harmonies. One can not go wrong 
 on this string; but it is too fine and high to 
 make all our music. This is the man-string. 
 You can go very right or very wrong on this 
 one." "Thees one," he pronounced it; and he 
 drew out the vowels as though lingering on 
 the thought. "This is the woman-string. Lis 
 ten how discordant now! I tune it to the
 
 TWIN STARS 121 
 
 man-string, for I am God of this little world 
 and now how beautiful!" 
 
 "You are talking poetry!" said Betsy-Bar 
 bara; and thought of the phrase as somewhat 
 awkward. 
 
 "Ah, but I am inspired!" replied Estrilla. 
 
 ("He surely doesn t mean me," thought Bet 
 sy-Barbara, "that would be too delicious!" 
 However, he was looking not at her but at the 
 guitar. ) 
 
 "Listen!" he resumed, giving the strings one 
 final caressing stroke. And in his light float 
 ing tenor, he began : 
 
 "Alma pur a de luz y allegria " 
 
 "What does it mean?" asked Betsy-Bar 
 bara when he had finished. 
 
 He translated: 
 
 " White spirit of joy and light if the 
 clouds should cross you it is I who would blow 
 them away with the wind of my love I, Chol- 
 ita mia! That Cholita mm I can not translate. 
 You have nothing in English which carries so 
 much endearment," he added. 
 
 Betsy-Barbara, her golden head on one side, 
 meditated his words.
 
 122 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 "It s pretty very pretty. But has it the 
 deep feeling of ours?" Although Betsy-Bar 
 bara taught English literature and composition 
 to the middle class of Arden Seminary, she 
 floundered a little in this attempt at literary 
 criticism. "Now this for example." She fled 
 to song for expression, and began : 
 
 "Ye banks an braes " 
 
 "Tender," he admitted, "but gloomy. And 
 why should there be gloom in expressing love? 
 You do not know our depth of passion. We 
 live our passion and our gloom and when we 
 sing we make our thought tender so that we 
 may forget. Listen!" Now he struck a 
 deeper key: 
 
 "Perro al abrirse la rosa " 
 
 "I have made that into English verse," he 
 concluded 
 
 "But the rose unfolds in the dawning 
 At the touch of the sun and the dew, 
 And the sun and the rain and the summer of 
 
 life, 
 Is the touch and the thought of you."
 
 TWIN STARS 123 
 
 "You are really a poet!" exclaimed Betsy- 
 Barbara. She was about to say more; but his 
 eyes rested upon her as he started another 
 song: 
 
 "Angel divino que tu es!" 
 
 "That," he concluded, "is in praise of the 
 mantilla blanca. The song is old and the cus 
 tom nearly dead. Now and then we have a 
 woman colored not like the rest of us dark 
 but white and gold like the angels. In some 
 countries she had the privilege of wearing a 
 white mantilla ; and wherever she went, she was 
 a queen. This is how it runs : A divine angel 
 wore thee, white mantilla. The warp was 
 goodness and the woof beauty. Thy bosom is 
 the white rose, thine eye the blue heaven, and 
 thy soul the void above heaven. 
 
 He strummed little shimmering chords as 
 he spoke. He fell to silence, but still the lan 
 guorous music quivered from the guitar. Bet 
 sy-Barbara turned about on the piano-stool, 
 her hands folded lightly in her lap, her eyes 
 cast down. He was speaking again; and this 
 time it was not what he said which moved and 
 disturbed her it was his tone.
 
 124 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 "Mantilla blanca!" he was saying over and 
 over again ; "mantilla blanca!" 
 
 It was many years before Betsy-Barbara, 
 looking back over everything, could analyze 
 the feeling of that moment, could put it in its 
 true relation to herself and her life. At the 
 time, she knew only that she sat there impas 
 sive, embarrassed, but inert, that she felt 
 shame yet also a furtive pleasure at the steady 
 look of those caressing eyes. It lasted only a 
 moment. 
 
 The outer door slammed violently. 
 
 Betsy-Barbara started as though caught in 
 something guilty. She hesitated a moment 
 for fear of showing her feelings to Estrilla. 
 Then she walked out into the hall. There was 
 no one in sight. That seemed curious, since 
 the hall stairs were not carpeted, and one could 
 hear footsteps. It was as though some one had 
 opened the front door and then quickly closed 
 it again without entering. When she turned 
 back, puzzled, she felt the necessity for expla 
 nation. 
 
 "I thought it might be Miss Harding," she 
 said, falsely "I wanted to see her." 
 
 He only smiled the same caressing smile.
 
 TWIN STARS 125 
 
 But the spell was cracked ; and Betsy-Barbara 
 herself completed the break. 
 
 Well, anyway," she said, pulling herself 
 together, "the Spanish have no martial music 
 like ours." And she struck up Scots Wha 
 Hae\ Nor did music and conversation turn 
 again to love-songs. In fact, half an hour 
 later Betsy-Barbara winged a hint, which he 
 caught mid-course, as he seemed to catch every 
 delicate shaft of meaning. He rose and bade 
 her a formal good night. "I hope I may sing 
 with you again," he said at parting. 
 
 Betsy-Barbara went to her own room. She 
 dawdled over her preparations for undressing, 
 making a dozen starts and stops. She was not 
 sleepy; a hundred currents of thought were 
 crossing and recrossing in her mind. So at 
 last she threw a kimono over her evening gown 
 and sat down at the window, maiden-fashion, 
 and thought. 
 
 To make no further mystery, the person who 
 opened the front door and disturbed the tete- 
 a-tete between Estrilla and Betsy-Barbara, was 
 only Tommy North. He had been searching 
 strenuously for a job. No mystery about that,
 
 126 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 either. The reason was Betsy-Barbara. The 
 night s quest had failed. The fluid mercury 
 of his disposition had fallen almost to absolute 
 zero. In this mood, he unlocked the front 
 door. The parlor was open ; he heard the soft 
 thrum of a guitar. Hungry for companion 
 ship, he crossed the thick hall carpet to the par 
 lor door. He looked in and beheld Betsy-Bar 
 bara sitting with flushed cheeks and folded 
 hands. It was the attitude of a woman who 
 yields. Beside her sat the Estrilla person, 
 strumming gently on a guitar and looking a 
 million languors. With a movement that was 
 an explosion, Tommy rushed out, slamming the 
 front door behind him. 
 
 His feet, rather than his will, carried him 
 away. There was a saloon at the corner. As 
 by instinct, Tommy rushed into it and ordered 
 a glass of whisky his first since the night of 
 the Hanska murder. He shivered slightly 
 when he drank it, as he always did at the new 
 taste of raw whisky. A cab-driver whom he 
 knew rose up from the corne 1 * nd greeted him 
 respectfully. Tommy invited him to have a 
 drink. The cab-driver introduced him to the 
 bartender. Tommy invited them both to have
 
 TWIN STARS 127 
 
 another drink. The bartender introduced a 
 paper-hanger. Tommy included him in a 
 fourth drink. The bartender asked them to 
 have one on the house. By this time, all was 
 over with Tommy North s sobriety. In a 
 period incredibly short, he fulfilled the tragic 
 purpose for which he left the boarding-house. 
 
 Now nearly every drunkard and especially 
 an amateur like Mr. Thomas North has one 
 latent peculiarity which comes out with intoxi 
 cation. His was the homing instinct. He al 
 ways sought his own bed when drunk, no mat 
 ter how embarrassing the circumstances might 
 be. An hour and a half after he stood treat 
 to the cabman, Tommy North, muttering over 
 and over to himself, "New life in new clime 
 wond ful plan of genius " was weaving to 
 ward the select boarding-house of Madame 
 Rosalie Le Grange. Laboriously he unlocked 
 the door; painfully, and with occasional mut- 
 terings about a blasted life, he reached the first 
 landing. And on that landing a door opened. 
 Betsy-Barbara stood looking at him. 
 
 Yet curiously, as the gaslight caught her 
 full, it was not upon Betsy-Barbara s shocked 
 wide-open eyes that he fixed his gaze. He
 
 128 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 looked at her feet. Betsy-Barbara was wear 
 ing high-heeled velvet shoes with paste buckles. 
 In the full light, they sparkled like real dia 
 monds. Betsy-Barbara stepped back with 
 woman s instinctive fear of a drunken man. 
 So one of those slippers moved. Tommy, his 
 eyes still toward the ground, clutched at it. 
 The motion almost tumbled him over did 
 make him reel against the door-post. 
 
 "Get it an hold it," he said "then dis 
 cover murder." 
 
 "Mr. North Mr. "North!" exclaimed Betsy- 
 Barbara and stood helpless, staring at this 
 weird performance. His mind seemed to 
 shift; he became aware of her as a person; and 
 he struggled for articulation. 
 
 "Drunk!" he said. "Final disgrace every 
 thing gone now !" 
 
 "Mr. North," said Betsy-Barbara, gathering 
 her courage, "listen to me. If you wake people 
 up to-night, they ll never forgive you. Now 
 I m going to lead you to your room. But you 
 are to be perfectly silent. Do you under 
 stand?" 
 
 "I promise," said Tommy. "There! I spoke 
 an broke promise. Vista shattered promises."
 
 TWIN STARS 129 
 
 "No, you didn t, but you will if you speak 
 again." 
 
 Tommy solemnly closed his mouth with fin 
 ger and thumb. She caught him under the 
 arm as though to support him. He waved her 
 away and started to make his own course up the 
 stairs. Betsy-Barbara followed, her hands ex 
 tended to give help in case of need. Though 
 he sought aid of the banisters here and there, 
 he navigated very well. At his own landing, 
 Betsy-Barbara ran ahead, opened his door, 
 switched on the electric light. Then return 
 ing, she pushed him in with a final: 
 
 "Good night and please try to be quiet." 
 
 Betsy-Barbara returned to her floor. Me 
 chanically, she turned into Constance s room to 
 make her customary last tour of inspection. 
 Constance had gone to bed her breathing was 
 deep and regular. Betsy-Barbara turned up 
 the light, tiptoed over to her side. Constance 
 lay utterly relaxed a Guinevere in sleep; her 
 two heavy dark braids streaming over the 
 counterpane. Her deep breathing seemed to 
 indicate serenity of mind; but her mouth 
 drooped, one cheek showed faint marks, and 
 her eyelashes still glittered.
 
 130 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 Betsy-Barbara had endured a day filled with 
 as many varied emotions as it is generally 
 given woman to endure. She applied the best 
 remedy that woman knows for surfeit of feel 
 ing. She took down her hair, undressed, and 
 cried herself to sleep.
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 FACING THE MUSIC 
 
 TOMMY woke next morning to the appro 
 priate mental and physical tortures. 
 When Memory had finished with her rack, the 
 Future applied thumb-screws. If he went 
 down to breakfast, he must meet Her. Re 
 morse and jealousy struggled in him with a 
 perverse pride. At any rate, he would not 
 run away. No, he would face her. He would 
 look into her eyes, which would be shocked and 
 hurt. The last embers of a ruined existence 
 would shine through his own. Then, after 
 she had seen and realized, he would go away 
 forever and send her just one letter no, just 
 one flower with his card to let her know what 
 he had felt and what he had cast aside. 
 
 Then since the human spirit is never static 
 having touched the lowest depths, his 
 thoughts began to rise toward hope. Just how 
 had he behaved last night? What had she 
 
 131
 
 132 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 seen him do? From the haze of confused 
 memories, a clear fact appeared in this place 
 and that. He had got up the first flight some 
 how; that part of it was dim. He had been 
 aware of her standing at the landing. How 
 Jiad she looked? Somehow, he could not re 
 member her face. Why? Because he had 
 been looking at her shoe-buckles at something 
 which glittered why 
 
 The tragic night of the Hanska murder 
 flashed in upon him, and with it a fact which 
 he had told neither the police in the Third 
 Degree process nor yet the Coroner at the in 
 quest, for the simple reason that he had for 
 gotten it. Now, he remembered it clearly, per 
 fectly. A freak of drunken consciousness had 
 brought back something which he might never 
 have remembered again. 
 
 "Gee whiz!" he cried, leaping out of bed, 
 headache and all. "She s looking for evidence 
 this will fix her !" A cold dip and a dash of 
 bromide restored him wonderfully, for the tis 
 sues of Tommy North were resilient and 
 young. As he entered the dining-room for 
 breakfast, only a slight pallor and a little lan 
 guor indicated the crisis of the night before.
 
 FACING THE MUSIC 133 
 
 Betsy-Barbara and Constance were already 
 seated. Betsy-Barbara looked him full in the 
 eye. 
 
 "Good morning, Mr. North," she said evenly. 
 Nothing whatever gave a clue to her inner 
 emotions. 
 
 "Good morning," replied Tommy shortly; 
 and he slid into his chair and attacked his grape 
 fruit. 
 
 The breakfast went on. Betsy-Barbara 
 talked freely; she appeared animated even. 
 She included Mr. North in the conversation, 
 throwing him a question now and then. He 
 noticed, however, that these questions came 
 only at regular intervals, as though she were 
 remembering to be very careful. That might 
 be a good sign or it might be a bad one, he 
 could not decide which. 
 
 Betsy-Barbara and Constance had risen now. 
 Tommy North, with an effort of the will, rose 
 and followed. 
 
 "Miss Lane," he said in the hall; and then, 
 since she did not seem to hear him, he spoke 
 louder, "Miss Lane." 
 
 Betsy-Barbara turned. Alone with him 
 now since Constance had gone on her eyes
 
 134 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 showed the emotions which she had suppressed 
 in public. 
 
 "What is it?" she said icily. 
 
 "I wanted," said Tommy "I wanted to tell 
 you something." 
 
 "I think," responded Betsy-Barbara, "that 
 you needn t make any more explanations 
 thank you!" 
 
 She was turning away when Tommy recov 
 ered himself. 
 
 "Oh, it isn t that" he said. "I can t ex 
 plain that, of course. I m not trying to ex 
 plain that, Miss Lane. It s just something 
 something new in the line of evidence about 
 the Hanska case I think it may help." 
 
 Betsy-Barbara turned again and this time 
 quickly. Her look was startled but 
 heaven be praised friendly. 
 
 "Something new?" she said, breathlessly. 
 "Oh, you angel fresh from Heavenl Shall I 
 send for Constance?" 
 
 This was the point where Tommy North be 
 came a strategist. 
 
 "It has to do," he said humbly, "with the 
 way I was last night. You saw me I 
 shouldn t like to tell her."
 
 FACING THE MUSIC 135 
 
 "Let s take a walk," proposed Betsy-Bar 
 bara, with her wonderful practicality. 
 
 "If you wish," said Tommy North humbly, 
 and yet thrilled with a sense of renewed com 
 panionship. Indeed, by the time they reached 
 the street, -he had recovered his spirits so much 
 as to propose because the street was so noisy, 
 that they take a cross-town car and walk up 
 Fifth Avenue. The car was crowded; they 
 must stand; so they did not approach the sub 
 ject of the moment until they were treading the 
 street of the spenders. 
 
 "Well, what is it? I m dying to know!" 
 said Betsy-Barbara, the instant they reached 
 the Avenue. 
 
 "It may mean something or it may not," 
 said Tommy. "Of course, on the night of the 
 murder I was and last night I was : 
 
 "Completely, irrevocably, entirely, I should 
 say," replied Betsy -Barbara, with emphasis. 
 
 "Did I do anything strange," inquired 
 Tommy, "when I first saw you?" 
 
 "You nearly tumbled at my feet, for one 
 thing," replied Betsy-Barbara. 
 
 "What what were you wearing on your 
 feet?"
 
 136 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 Betsy-Barbara thought a second on this 
 peculiar question. 
 
 "My velvet slippers with the rhinestone 
 buckles," she said. 
 
 Tommy nodded solemnly. 
 
 "That was it I was reaching for them last 
 night just as I was reaching for something 
 the night I fell at Captain Hanska s door. 
 And it brought everything back." 
 
 "Oh, what do you mean?" begged Betsy- 
 Barbara. "Go on! Please go on." 
 
 "I had got to the head of the stairs on the 
 night of the murder," said Tommy. "The gas 
 was lighted in the hall. I was pickled. You 
 know how your mind gets on one little thing 
 when you re pickled " 
 
 "I don t," put in Betsy-Barbara, in spite 
 of her interest in the story "but please go 
 on." 
 
 "And I saw something bright in the hall 
 way, close to Captain Hanska s door. I 
 braced against a post and looked at it. It was 
 a cluster of diamonds the more I think of it, 
 the more it seems like that shoe-buckle of yours. 
 I was as sure of it as a man can be sure of any 
 thing when he s drunk. I reached out to get
 
 FACING THE MUSIC 137 
 
 it. Then I tumbled and hit the stuff. The 
 tumble and the sticky feeling put diamonds out 
 of my mind. Then it s curtains for mine until 
 I m in my own room well, you know. 
 
 "And the funny thing," concluded Tommy, 
 "is that I never remembered one thing about 
 it, not even when the police were combing my 
 very soul, until what happened last night. 
 You can t be certain, of course. I was pickled. 
 But I m sure, just the same, that I saw a 
 bunch of diamonds or something beside that 
 door. You ve asked me to tell you anything 
 I might find about the Hanska case. And I m 
 telling, that s all." 
 
 Betsy-Barbara considered. 
 
 "It may not mean anything," she said, "and 
 it may mean a good deal." She considered 
 again. "Even if the diamonds were there, 
 maybe it had nothing to do with our case. If 
 anybody had been robbed that night, if there 
 had been any signs of a burglar, this evidence 
 would be very important. But the police say 
 that the house wasn t entered. Then again, 
 what became of the diamonds? It seems no 
 one else noticed them." 
 
 "Well," remarked Tommy North cynically,
 
 138 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 "there were a great many- policemen in the 
 house." 
 
 Betsy-Barbara walked on, still thinking. 
 "Maybe. I m afraid, though, that it might be 
 only an aberration," she said finally. 
 
 "Perhaps," echoed Tommy North. And 
 now, having finished his introduction, he ap 
 proached the subject nearest his heart. 
 
 "Of course, that s all," he said, "except that 
 I owe you an apology for for my condition 
 last night." 
 
 "It is yourself," said Betsy-Barbara, "that 
 you owe the apology. Mr. North, why did 
 you do it again?" 
 
 Now it was in Tommy North s impulses to 
 tell exactly why he did it to come out with 
 the truth, accompanied by his opinion of phi 
 landering Spaniards. But that would have 
 amounted to a declaration; and to declare his 
 feelings for Betsy-Barbara was leagues be 
 yond his present courage. 
 
 "Oh," he said, carelessly, desperately, "I got 
 a jolt. That s all. And I took it out in 
 booze." 
 
 "You ve told me," said Betsy-Barbara, "that 
 you don t like the taste of the stuff. That s
 
 FACING THE MUSIC 139 
 
 why you drink, then to console yourself when 
 you re in trouble? Doesn t that show rather 
 poor courage?" 
 
 "Perhaps." 
 
 "Now, I m in trouble. And Constance 
 Mrs. Hanska is in deep, deep trouble. Sup 
 pose we drank every time it hurt ! I don t be 
 lieve you know what real trouble is even if 
 you were arrested unjustly." 
 
 "Well, it isn t always that." 
 
 "No; you told me the other night it was be 
 cause you hadn t anything better to do. Mr. 
 North," she added, suddenly lifting her blue 
 eyes to his, "your need is something else to do. 
 You re out of a job. How many jobs have 
 you had since you came to New York?" 
 
 By now they had crossed Twenty-eighth 
 Street, and reached the whirl and glitter of 
 morning on Fifth Avenue. Already the morn 
 ing crowd of shoppers, women of the exclu 
 sive class who scorn the gayer but cheaper 
 afternoon parade, debated before shop -win 
 dows or held social intercourse at corners. On 
 the pavement the procession of coaches and mo 
 tors was beginning. Already the stalwart, sol 
 dierly, traffic squad policemen were opening
 
 140 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 lanes for pedestrians with waves of their white- 
 gloved hands. The windows, each an artistic 
 creation, blossomed with the richest goods of 
 the five continents. It was all alive, beautiful, 
 and most of all to the country observation of 
 Betsy-Barbara smart. It was made for the 
 temptation of woman. As Tommy North 
 talked, Betsy-Barbara s eye traveled to this 
 lovely frock, that alluring window. Still, after 
 the universal habit of her sex, she kept her 
 mind on the main subject, in spite of these dis 
 tractions of the eye. The inner part of her 
 was listening and following. Yet the gay pa 
 rade, the autumn touch in the air, obviously 
 raised her spirits, obviously put her in a mood 
 to regard Tommy s derelictions tenderly, even 
 humorously. 
 
 "I came here to found a great commercial 
 career as bill-clerk in a produce house," he 
 said. "That job lasted three months as long 
 as the concern did. Then I accepted a slight 
 weekly emolument from a banker. At least, 
 that was what he called himself. When I found 
 that he was getting three hundred per cent, 
 from advances on salary, I separated myself 
 from that position just in time to keep out of
 
 141 
 
 the Tombs. Then I consented to lend my 
 trained financial mind to the operations of the 
 Silver Chain Mining Company. We had an 
 office that looked like Buckingham Palace 
 rich but not gaudy. There was an Andrea del 
 Sarto effect in wall-paper over my desk, and at 
 my right hand an onyx mantel containing a 
 bull in pure coin silver, which was a hint of 
 what we intended to do to the market. There, 
 when I was not composing great works of im 
 aginative fiction for country investors, I used 
 to sit and dream of great projects for the bet 
 terment of the human race all from my pro 
 fits. But one day while I was writing a letter 
 we were short of stenographers in comes 
 a coarse, piratical country employee and snakes 
 the typewriter from under my fingers and the 
 desk from under the typewriter and the rug 
 from under the desk, and wraps them all 
 around the cashier s cage and goes away. 
 Then I went into a broker s office, selling bonds. 
 I was there four months " He hesitated. 
 
 "And what was the trouble there?" inquired 
 Betsy-Barbara, turning from a Parisian hobble 
 to regard him severely. 
 
 "Well," answered Tommy, "you see, three
 
 142 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 or four of us went to dinner one night at a place 
 where the turkey-trot is danced between 
 courses. When we came out it pleased us to 
 ride to Rector s in a butcher-wagon. Highly 
 original oh, yes and pleased every one ex 
 cept our boss, who was entering from his own 
 machine at the same moment. Next morning 
 they passed me my pay on the end of a cur 
 tain pole. About that time a cabaret offered 
 me a regular job to turkey-trot, but I passed 
 that up. I believe in remaining an amateur, 
 in keeping my art separate from vulgar com 
 merce. So I became chauffeur to an elevator. 
 The starter found, after two weeks, that I was 
 temperamental. Sterling personal reliability 
 is more useful in running an elevator than tem 
 perament.- So when they chased me from the 
 front door, I wandered past an advertising 
 agency. I didn t know anything about that 
 business, which is why I got the job. I made 
 good, too." 
 
 "How many places in the advertising busi 
 ness?" inquired his relentless inquisitor. 
 
 "Four." 
 
 "The same story with them all?" 
 
 "Pretty nearly the same."
 
 FACING THE MUSIC 143 
 
 "And you never lost a place for incompe 
 tence?" 
 
 "No. It s the only thing I can say for my 
 self." 
 
 "Let s hear more details," said Betsy-Bar 
 bara. 
 
 By the time Tommy had expanded to her 
 satisfaction, they were past Forty-fifth 
 Street. The shops were beginning to give way 
 to old residences, left behind stranded by the 
 up-town movement of fashion. Two women 
 bearing in their move, their elegant sim 
 plicity of dress, their exquisite length of line, 
 the brand of the American Barbarian had 
 stopped to chat in the soft, .clipped, affected 
 accents of their class. Betsy-Barbara re 
 garded them as she turned over in her mind the 
 case of this troublesome pupil. 
 
 "Mr. North," she said at length, "I m. going 
 to ask a very personal question. I m not ask 
 ing it for curiosity. I ve a reason, which I ll 
 state later have you saved any money?" 
 
 "Brace yourself for the shock," replied 
 Tommy, "but I really have. I inherited three 
 hundred dollars a while ago. And my mother 
 made me promise one thing that I d save a
 
 144 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 little every week. I have five hundred dollars 
 in the bank." 
 
 Betsy-Barbara nodded her wise and golden 
 head. 
 
 "That will do beautifully for a start," she 
 said. 
 
 "A start at what?" inquired Tommy. 
 
 "At the Thomas W. North Advertising 
 Agency." 
 
 "At" 
 
 "The Thomas W. North Advertising 
 Agency. It s founded now, 10:15 A.M. Oc 
 tober sixteenth, at the corner of Fifth Avenue 
 and Forty-sixth Street, New York!" 
 
 "This is so sudden!" exclaimed Tommy. 
 But his heart leaped and danced. 
 
 "Now, see, Mr. North," resumed Betsy-Bar 
 bara, "I ve diagnosed your case. The trou 
 ble with you is that you ve drifted. Isn t it?" 
 
 "I suppose so," said Tommy. 
 
 "And it has been the whole trouble, I think." 
 Betsy-Barbara announced this gravely from 
 the superior height of twenty-four years. 
 "You need responsibility. You don t want to 
 grow into the kind of young man Mr. Dayne 
 and Mr. Murphy are. They re professional
 
 FACING THE MUSIC 145 
 
 drifters now. When you re boss, you won t be 
 loafing on the job. You d discharge an em 
 ployee who did that and you can t discharge 
 yourself. Some day you ll wish you had a 
 business of your own. Then you ll look 
 back and be sorry you didn t start it when 
 you were young. You can get business, can t 
 you?" 
 
 "I ought" to," said Tommy. 
 
 "And I think you ought," she checked her 
 self here. She wanted to say that any one with 
 Tommy North s personality should be able to 
 drag business out of a rock. What she did 
 add was another question. 
 
 "And you can fix up the business when 
 you get it?" 
 
 "I suppose I can. I never lost a place for 
 incompetence except the elevator job." 
 
 "Then there s really nothing more to be said," 
 responded Betsy-Barbara. "Just get an office, 
 and hang out your shingle, and go to work. 
 You may fail, of course. But you ll be doing 
 it for yourself, and that, Thomas W. North, is 
 what you need." 
 
 Tommy North had been looking at her as 
 one who sees visions and hears voices. "Why,
 
 146 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 that s the way I used to think. That s the 
 way I used to talk," he said. "I didn t realize 
 until I heard it from you, how I d got over it. 
 I guess I don t think that way any more. It s 
 this town, Miss Lane. New York s a queer 
 place. It fills up every year with young men 
 and young girls. It makes a few, but it breaks 
 more. Some go right straight up to the top, 
 but most just drift along at the bottom, until 
 they give up and go home. I guess that was 
 happening to me I was drifting at the bot 
 tom." 
 
 "You re nearer to it than you ever were," 
 said Betsy-Barbara. "You see I m new here 
 and I haven t lost that feeling that you get in 
 New York the minute you come that you can 
 move mountains. And while I still feel that 
 way, I m going to make you work." 
 
 "All right," commanded Tommy North, 
 "fire away! I ll do anything you tell me to 
 and go anywhere you say." He did not add 
 what his heart said, "Even to the end of the 
 world." 
 
 "The first thing to do when you re starting 
 in business is to find an office," said Betsy -Bar 
 bara practically.
 
 FACING THE MUSIC 147 
 
 "There are lots of good cheap little places in 
 lower Fifth Avenue," said Tommy North. 
 
 "Let s look at them right now!" exclaimed 
 Betsy-Barbara. And the newly-formed 
 Thomas W. North Advertising Agency 
 wheeled and started southward. 
 
 That afternoon, Betsy-Barbara and Rosalie 
 Le Grange were sewing together in the sun 
 parlor. Rosalie, guider and compeller of des 
 tinies, had seemed for a fortnight the least 
 considerable factor in the events now gather 
 ing about the Hanska case. She moved 
 quietly among the exactors of the drama, per 
 forming her duty of shaking together a new 
 household. The invalid on the top floor took 
 a great deal of her time, and her quiet moth 
 erly watch over Constance almost as much. 
 Toward Constance she maintained an attitude 
 of distant affection. With Betsy-Barbara, on 
 the other hand, she grew familiar and big-sis 
 terly. Spite of wide surface differences in 
 breeding and grammar, there was some natural 
 bond between these two perhaps their com 
 mon taste for controlling destinies. Rosalie 
 never let her affections film the main chance, 
 however. In their chats over the muslin and
 
 148 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 the tea-cups, she drew Betsy-Barbara, through 
 subtle attack and retreat, to full discussion of 
 the Hanska case. Yet so careful was her 
 method, that Betsy-Barbara never dreamed she 
 had broken any confidences. 
 
 As they pulled bastings, Betsy-Barbara 
 slipped in a remark which she tried artfully 
 to conceal in general chatter. 
 
 "Mr. North tells me," said Betsy-Barbara, 
 "that he is going to start in business for him 
 self." 
 
 Rosalie s eyes, their motion hidden by her 
 long lashes, observed now that Betsy-Barbara s 
 fingers, which had been fluttering busily, 
 stopped still for a moment as she dropped this 
 simple observation. 
 
 "That so!" exclaimed Rosalie; "well he s a 
 nice, smart young man an it will be the very 
 best thing for him." She pulled bastings for 
 ten seconds before she resumed : 
 
 "It will keep him straight. He won t have 
 to be helped up to his room for some time, I 
 hope." 
 
 Betsy-Barbara stared and flushed. 
 
 "Oh! Did you see it?" 
 
 "Now, my dear, I think it was brave an*
 
 FACING THE MUSIC 149 
 
 nice of you. It s what any girl should have 
 done, an it s what most good girls wouldn t 
 have the decency to do. No woman s a real 
 lady when she s too much of a lady. Yes 
 I heard him stumble, an I come out an 
 looked." 
 
 "I I just opened his door and pushed him 
 in," said Betsy-Barbara, blushing furiously. 
 
 "An quite enough I saw that, too." Ro 
 salie pulled bastings for a quarter of a min 
 ute more. Then she added, "I suppose you 
 called him down all he needed when you took 
 that walk this morning." 
 
 "Oh, that wasn t the reason!" cried Betsy- 
 Barbara, driven back on her maiden defenses. 
 "It wasn t that. I really didn t want to see 
 him. But he had something new to tell me 
 about the case or thought he had." 
 
 "Um-hum!" responded Rosalie. "Well, 
 I ve always wondered if that young man didn t 
 know a great deal more than he was lettin 
 on." 
 
 "Oh, indeed, I think he told all he remem 
 bered!" replied Betsy-Barbara with some 
 warmth; "this was just something he d for 
 gotten something which came back to him
 
 150 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 last night when he was well, you saw." And 
 detail by detail she repeated Tommy North s 
 story about the diamond cluster. Rosalie, as 
 she listened with downcast look, used all her 
 will to keep her head steady and her fingers 
 busy. 
 
 "That s interesting," she remarked, in a mat 
 ter-of-fact tone, when Betsy-Barbara had fin 
 ished. "But I don t know s it s important. 
 They think they see funny things when they re 
 drunk an they re ready to swear to em when 
 they sober up. Intend to tell Mrs. Hanska 
 or the lawyers about it?" 
 
 "I thought I might I m doing every least 
 thing to help." 
 
 "Well, the evidence of a drunk wouldn t go 
 at all in a court of law," pursued Rosalie, her 
 eyes still on her work. "Just as soon as they 
 find he was drunk, they put him right off the 
 witness-stand." 
 
 "Do they?" asked Betsy-Barbara innocently. 
 
 "Always. And of course well, Mr. North 
 is pretty humiliated already, an he s a nice 
 young man, an he ll probably cut out drink 
 now he s in business for himself. Still, if you 
 think it s your duty "
 
 FACING THE MUSIC 151 
 
 "Oh, I hope you think it isn t," said Betsy- 
 Barbara. "I don t want to put Mr. North in 
 that position again." 
 
 "Can t see where it s the least bit of use, 
 an twould only do Mr. North harm," replied 
 Rosalie. "If you was me, would you french 
 this seam? Yes, I guess it looks more tasty 
 that way." Rosalie turned the conversation to 
 a discussion of autumn fashions. She sewed 
 and chatted for ten minutes. Then she looked 
 ostentatiously at the clock. 
 
 "Gracious! A quarter to four an I must 
 be down-town quarrelin with that laundry at 
 a quarter past!" 
 
 She rose, gathered coat, hat and gloves, and 
 hurried to the corner drug store, from which 
 she made by telephone an immediate appoint 
 ment with Inspector McGee. They met in 
 Abingdon Square, a rendezvous half-way be 
 tween her house and headquarters. She pro 
 ceeded to business at once. 
 
 "I ve been jest settin on this Hanska case, 
 Inspector," she said. "Knew if I waited long 
 enough, somethin would hatch. It has, but 
 I can t say yet whether it s a rooster or a 
 duck."
 
 152 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 "What have you got?" inquired McGee. 
 
 "Don t know, I tell you. Didn t I say in 
 the first place that I was workin alone as I 
 always do?" 
 
 "All right, Rosalie," replied McGee, indul 
 gently, "then what can I do for you?" 
 
 "In the first place, when s the Grand Jury 
 goin to get to the Wade indictment?" 
 
 "Pretty soon, I guess. I ve been holding 
 them off until I get more evidence." 
 
 "Well, keep holdin em off." 
 
 "It looks to me," put in the Inspector, "as 
 if you still thought Wade didn t do it." 
 
 "Well, honest, are you sure yourself? Play 
 square now." 
 
 The Inspector meditated until he achieved 
 a miracle of self -analysis. 
 
 "I d be able to judge that better," he said, 
 "if I didn t feel I d like to knock his block 
 off every time I see him. He won t say a 
 thing one way or another. Whenever I try to 
 put on the screws, he just sits off and laughs. 
 Once they begin to talk, they re gone. And 
 confound him, I can t make him say a word 
 except, I told the Coroner all I knew about 
 the case. "
 
 FACING THE MUSIC 153 
 
 "Well, you stop askin him until you hear 
 from me," said Rosalie. 
 
 "Honest, what have you got?" 
 
 "Wouldn t you like to know?" Here Ro 
 salie broke out all her dimples, so that In 
 spector McGee smiled on her. "Call it a hunch 
 from the spirits." 
 
 "You can t come that on me," said the In 
 spector, half playfully, "I know your kind of 
 spirits." 
 
 "Well, call it a woman s notion then, if you 
 like that any better. The Grand Jury s the 
 first thing. Next, that old house of Mrs. 
 Moore s is still vacant, isn t it? I want to go 
 through it with you from top to bottom an 
 I ve got to do it so I won t be seen. If any 
 body around my house suspects I m mixed in 
 the case, I m no more use to you." 
 
 "That s easy. We can enter the block from 
 the other side and go in by the back door." 
 
 "All right. How s two o clock to-morrow?" 
 
 "Fine." 
 
 "Now I d better run along. I don t want 
 to take any chances of being seen with you. 
 For a big place, New York s the smallest place 
 ever I saw."
 
 154 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 "Honest, what have you found?" 
 
 "Honest, I don t know myself!" said Rosalie 
 Le Grange, dimpling over her shoulder as she 
 walked away. McGee stood following her 
 with his ey es.
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 COQUETTISH MC GEE 
 
 THE Moore boarding-house, scene of the 
 Hanska murder, remained closed, a plain- 
 clothes man from the precinct detective force 
 keeping it under watch and ward. By rou 
 tine, the police should have turned it back to 
 its regular occupants as soon as the Coroner s 
 jury had viewed it and the photographers had 
 finished with recording the evidence. But 
 since Mrs. Moore s boarders had transferred 
 themselves in a body to the more desirable 
 establishment of Madame Rosalie Le Grange, 
 the place lay vacant, displaying the sign, "To 
 Rent Furnished; Desirable for Boarding- 
 house." New York is short-minded and cold- 
 hearted, too noisy for ghosts and too busy for 
 brooding. It was not memory of the tragedy 
 which kept tenants away, but the fact that the 
 murder happened early in the month, and most 
 boarding-houses are let "from the first to the 
 
 155
 
 156 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 first." Since the place, for the time being, was 
 of no use to any one else, Inspector McGee 
 took the precaution of setting a guard over it. 
 As another precaution for remote contingen 
 cies, he left Captain Hanska s room undis 
 turbed. 
 
 To this house a plain four-story building 
 of worn brick near its turn for destruction in 
 the next transformation of impermanent New 
 York came Captain McGee and Rosalie Le 
 Grange. They approached with all the cau 
 tion of forethought, entering the block through 
 an office building on the next street, opening 
 the area door with a pass-key, going into the 
 house by the basement door at the rear. 
 
 "Ugh! I hate to touch it," said Rosalie, 
 drawing her skirts away from the wreckage 
 of the cellar. "I m glad I wore my old 
 clothes. Guess Mrs. Moore never kept this 
 place any too well an with this dust an your 
 untidy cops, Martin McGee, it s just scan 
 dalous now. Well, come on!" And so she 
 dragged her police escort through floor after 
 floor, room after room at first a superficial 
 survey and then a minute search. 
 
 "It s huntin for a needle in a haystack when
 
 COQUETTISH McGEE 157 
 
 you don t know for sure whether you dropped 
 it in the barnyard or the pasture," said Rosalie 
 as she settled down to the more careful stages 
 of her search. 
 
 "What is the needle, anyway?" asked Mc- 
 Gee. 
 
 "I ain t sure it is a needle it may be a pin," 
 replied Rosalie with her best air of mystery. 
 
 This was a house of four stories. In Mrs. 
 Moore s reign it had a dozen occupants, what 
 with boarders and servants. Each room held 
 a score of those impedimenta, large and small, 
 which the complexity of modern life has lain 
 upon the simplest of us. Not an article but 
 might be the mark which would set Rosalie 
 upon the trail. The preliminary search re 
 inforced by old questioning among her board 
 ers had given Rosalie the lay of the land. 
 The kitchen was in the basement. The parlor, 
 the dining-room and Mrs. Moore s room were 
 on the ground floor. Miss Harding and Miss 
 Jones lived in the second story. On that floor 
 also, were two vacant rooms for Mrs. Moore s 
 house had fallen on unprosperous days. The 
 third floor, where the men lived, had been fully 
 occupied by Mr. North, Professor Noll, and
 
 158 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 Captain Hanska. Tommy North had the 
 front room. Noll and Hanska lived opposite 
 each other at the rear. Captain Hanska s 
 room, the main objective of Rosalie s search, 
 was to the right of the passage. The top 
 floor, again, had only one occupant Miss Es- 
 trilla. She lived at the rear of the house, where 
 the lights were lower. Her room was directly 
 above Professor Noll s. Across from Miss 
 Estrilla s and above Captain Hanska s apart 
 ment of accursed memory, lay a lumber-room, 
 the catch-all for trunks and odd furniture. 
 
 As they came to Captain Hanska s room, 
 Inspector McGee stopped and made oration. 
 
 "You can see," he said, "that it was an in 
 side job. Beginning on the roof, there s no 
 way to enter except by the hatch which goes 
 down into the lumber-room. On account of 
 the fire regulations, the hatch couldn t be 
 locked, but it was closed inside by a bolt. That 
 hadn t been monkeyed with. In fact, the dirt 
 around the edges showed that the hatch hadn t 
 been opened for a long time." 
 
 "And the fire-escape?" asked Rosalie, purs 
 ing her brows with concentration. 
 
 "Runs from the lumber-room straight down.
 
 COQUETTISH McGEE 159 
 
 Passes at the third floor the windows of Cap 
 tain Hanska s room. The corresponding 
 room on the second floor is vacant. That fire- 
 escape violated the fire ordinances some one 
 should have been pinched. In the first place, 
 you couldn t possibly reach it from the roof, 
 on account of the overhang of the eaves. 
 Then it stopped short at the second floor and 
 there was no ladder below. Fine little way to 
 break bones in case of fire! To reach it from 
 the ground, a man would have had to jump 
 sixteen feet in the air. A professional acro 
 bat couldn t have done it unless they teach 
 em in the circus to shinny up a smooth brick 
 wall. No one entered by the basement, either. 
 Windows and doors all bolted inside and 
 showed no signs of being tampered with. You 
 see, it was this Wade fellow, or an inside job. 
 And while we re talking about locks" here 
 Martin McGee opened Captain Hanska s door 
 and stood with a foot on either side of the 
 threshold "this is a little piece of evidence I ve 
 figured out myself. Notice, he had a spring- 
 lock. Mrs. Moore says he put it on himself. 
 That indicates he was afraid of somebody 
 Wade, probably. Him being so particular on
 
 160 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 that point, it was only natural he should keep it 
 locked when he was asleep. Now, look here." 
 
 This was an "inside" spring-lock of the or 
 dinary pattern. It could be controlled from 
 without only by the key. Within, however, 
 was a knob and a button by which one could 
 turn back the catch and render it temporarily 
 useless as a lock. "Well, now," said McGee, 
 "the catch was back when they found the body, 
 and the door wasn t locked at all. If he d 
 been alive after Wade left him, he wouldn t 
 have gone to sleep without seeing that his door 
 was locked. My idea is, he turned the knob 
 and shut the catch back when he let Wade in 
 the way a person does with a spring-lock. 
 Anyhow," concluded McGee, "it s a suspicious 
 fact." 
 
 "Very," said Rosalie; and McGee did not 
 catch the flatness in her tone. "But any one 
 who got on to that fire-escape, one way or an 
 other, could have entered Hanska s room by 
 the window, couldn t he?" 
 
 "Yes," said Inspector McGee, "if Hanska s 
 window was open. But the windows were 
 closed when they found the body. Most of the 
 witnesses say that. They remember because
 
 COQUETTISH McGEE 161 
 
 when this Mrs. Moore fainted those girls 
 opened both windows to give her air. They 
 say they had to open the catches to get the 
 sashes up." 
 
 "Stuffy muggy night, an both windows 
 closed an him an American!" 
 
 "Well, there s nothing particularly strange 
 about that, is there?" said Inspector McGee. 
 
 "Not to you!" replied Rosalie Le Grange, 
 dimpling on him. "I guess well, I guess be 
 fore we do anything else we ll go over every 
 thing in that room." 
 
 They entered. 
 
 Except that the blood had been scrubbed 
 away, except that the floor bore the marks of 
 muddy foot-heels, souvenirs of the police and 
 the Coroner s jury, the room stood as Cap 
 tain Hanska left it for his long journey. 
 Dust, which was smut in the corners and an 
 impalpable film on the furniture, lay over 
 everything. The neat and fastidious Rosalie 
 made gestures of displeasure with her fingers 
 and drew away her skirts. On the table lay 
 outspread the photographs, the souvenirs of 
 five oceans, the extra knife, which Lawrence 
 Wade admitted that he delivered to Captain
 
 162 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 Hanska. The bed was as Rosalie had seen 
 it on the night of the tragedy the sheets and 
 quilts turned back as though one had risen 
 quietly and naturally. It was to the bed that 
 Rosalie turned her first attention. It stood 
 against the wall. Its head escaped the swing 
 of the door by a few inches; its foot was near 
 that south window which opened on the fire- 
 escape. Rosalie went over it minutely, observ 
 ing everything. At the foot of the white coun 
 terpane, her eyes stopped stopped and rested. 
 
 "It s spotted," she said almost under her 
 breath. 
 
 Inspector McGee looked also. 
 
 "Nothing special," he replied. "This Mrs. 
 Moore wasn t a good housekeeper." 
 
 "Rest of it s clean enough, barrin the dust," 
 said Rosalie Le Grange, "and those spots is 
 water, not dirt water on starched stuff al 
 ways looks that way just crinkly like it 
 needed ironing." 
 
 Martin McGee considered. 
 
 "That s easy," said he. "They opened the 
 window. It was raining, wasn t it? Well, the 
 rain came in and stained it." 
 
 "I suppose so," said Rosalie. But she made
 
 a minute examination. Let us violate for a 
 second the privacy of her mind. "Dear old 
 dope!" it was saying, "he hasn t thought to 
 look into the weather that night. He don t 
 know it had cleared up and stopped raining 
 for good when I came into the house; and I 
 saw them open the windows myself." 
 
 "Well," she said aloud, "that s all for the 
 bed. Now let s see the furniture an his clothes 
 an everything." 
 
 It was half an hour before Rosalie finished 
 her search of the room. She went over it inch 
 by inch, her lips pursed, her hands making 
 quick flutters of disgust over the dirt and dis 
 order. She spoke little, and then as though 
 to herself. Inspector McGee, finally, gave up 
 following her swift movements, mental and 
 physical, and rested himself in a Morris chair. 
 His was a life of grim hard things ; these sur 
 roundings, depressing even to Rosalie, were 
 to him part of the day s work. And so he fell 
 to watching not the search for evidence but 
 the figure of Rosalie Le Grange. Martin Mc 
 Gee, untutored in esthetics, did not know that 
 there is one beauty of youth and another of 
 maturity; that there is one glory of ruddy
 
 164 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 young skin, bright with new blood, and an 
 other of faded skin; that the soul which shines 
 out through mature flesh may be more disturb 
 ing to the thoughts of man than young flesh 
 itself. Had you asked him, he would have 
 limited all beauty in women to the twenties, 
 or at least to the early thirties. He was un 
 accustomed to self -analysis, to psychological 
 musings of any kind ; and the mood which blew 
 in upon him was strange to his nature. 
 
 There was something pleasing, and more 
 than pleasing, about this woman here. He re 
 membered how she had appeared to him ten 
 years ago, when she began flashing in and out 
 of his life. He had been sitting in another 
 house of murder, and he had seen her cross the 
 street. He had marked her then as "a peach" 
 a little too plump for his idea of beauty, but 
 pretty nevertheless. She had brown hair then ; 
 she had a neat figure, a smooth pleasing face, 
 and those big gray eyes. The eyes remained 
 as they were, but there was a foam of white 
 across her hair. The face had fallen into a 
 delicate ridge here and there, though massage 
 had taken care of the wrinkles, which showed 
 not as yet. Her figure had broadened a little
 
 COQUETTISH McGEE 165 
 
 yet she still bore it wonderfully. The skin 
 of her long plump hands had begun to gather 
 about the knuckles. And still she appealed 
 to him as she had never appealed in those first 
 days. He had no great amount of imagina 
 tion; but what he had soared and took flight. 
 Suppose then when they were both young 
 
 The flight stopped there ; the bird of imagi 
 nation fluttered to earth, killed by an arrow 
 of memory. This was had always been a 
 medium, a professional faker. In their early 
 acquaintance she had duped even him. She 
 was next door to a crook ; and he dwelt so close 
 to crooks as to have his tolerations, but also his 
 prejudices. No, she wasn t the kind for a 
 man. But it was a pity. The broad, sturdy 
 police bosom of Martin McGee heaved with a 
 sigh. A pity ! How pretty she was there, 
 knitting her brows and letting her dimples play 
 soberly with her thought as she turned and 
 returned an old coat! And what a mind she 
 had! Lord, what a mind! 
 
 The sigh did not escape Rosalie Le Grange ; 
 little in her surroundings ever escaped her. 
 She appeared to come out of her thoughtful 
 mood, and her dimples flashed.
 
 166 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 "Getting tired?" she asked. 
 
 "No," he said. And then suddenly : "Rose, 
 why did you ever start it?" 
 
 "Being a medium, you mean?" 
 
 "Yes." The word was out of his lips be 
 fore wonder entered his mind. 
 
 "Now, how did you get that what I was 
 thinking of? You make me wonder if there 
 ain t something in your mediumship." 
 
 "Well," said Rosalie, "reachin out and get- 
 tin things that way is on the edge of the 
 spirit, I guess. Told you before, the more 
 you know about this thing the more you don t 
 know." She mounted a chair to peer along 
 the closet shelf. "In this case ; when a gentle 
 man sits still lookin at a lady like he really 
 saw her, he s thinkin of the past among other 
 things. An when he sighs like that, it s prob 
 ably because she ain t what he d like her to be 
 if he s got any respect for her, which I hope 
 you have, Inspector Martin McGeeJ" 
 
 "Yes, I have that," responded the Inspec 
 tor. 
 
 "I kinder guessed you had," replied Ro 
 salie, smelling of two old bottles which she had 
 found on the shelf. "How did I come to take
 
 COQUETTISH McGEE 167 
 
 it up? Well, when you re left an orphan at 
 twelve there ain t much choice. Professor 
 Vango adopted me my mother was in his 
 circle. Old fake! But he had mediumship, 
 too; an he thought, an I thought, he brought 
 somethin out of me. Anyhow, I saw things. 
 So I became a medium, like you became a cop 
 because it happened that way. If it had 
 happened another way you might have been 
 a boss bricklayer and contractor you wouldn t 
 a stayed a journeyman, I ll say that for you. 
 Sometimes," added Rosalie, drawing all sting 
 from her words by a flash of her dimples, "I 
 think you re awful stupid, Martin McGee, an 
 sometimes I think you re a wonder. It s gen 
 erally according to whether or no you agree 
 with me. As you mostly do, I generally call 
 you a wonder. An you ve got get-there be 
 sides. Slow, but you do get there." 
 
 This bit of conversation fulfilled Rosalie s 
 purpose. It turned the subject from herself 
 to Inspector McGee s self ;, and she knew from 
 a life of experience that no man lives who can 
 resist that lure. 
 
 "How do you feel about me to-day?" he 
 asked with heavy male coquetry.
 
 168 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 "I haven t made up my mind to-day," she 
 said, "but it s veerin toward the stupid." She 
 crossed the room and fumbled with the catch 
 of the south window. He rose heavily to help 
 her. 
 
 "No, thank you!" she said. "No, thank 
 you. I want to look over this fire-escape. 
 I m that old I can t go up modest-like. It s 
 enough to have the stenographers rubberin 
 from those windows, without you." 
 
 However, she managed with surpassing 
 lightness the step from the window to the iron 
 stairway, with astonishing grace the ascent. 
 She threaded it to its top, viewing it all in 
 a general way. Then she stopped, making a 
 picture of herself as she balanced on the land 
 ing, and pulled out a wire hairpin. This uni 
 versal implement of the sex she twisted to 
 suit her purpose, and began a slow descent, 
 picking at the interstices of the iron. Nothing 
 but dust, with here and there a straw, a bit 
 of cloth, or a scrap of paper blown thither by 
 the wind. 
 
 "Unpromising" she said to herself sotto 
 voce, "but I ll try everythin ugh! it s a 
 sweeper s job."
 
 169 
 
 So she worked downward nearly one flight 
 before she came to a cake of dirt in a corner 
 of the iron steps. She brushed it away and 
 discovered a little irregularity in the metal. 
 She picked at this with her twisted hairpin. It 
 proved to be a loop of steel, somewhat spotted, 
 but still bright. She hooked the pin into the 
 loop, and pulled. Something gave way. Out 
 of a very small hollow in the iron step, which 
 seemed like a bubble left in the process of cast 
 ing, came a little hard ball. She rubbed it 
 with her hands, and polished it with her hand 
 kerchief. 
 
 It was a red shoe-button. 
 
 Rosalie fingered it, and glanced upward, 
 musing. Above, the iron stairway ran straight 
 to the windows of the lumber-room. And that 
 was the only window from which it could have 
 fallen in such fashion as to strike the fire-es 
 cape. She knew from Mrs. Moore that this 
 room had been used for storage during all of 
 the last year. If a previous tenant dropped 
 it, the lacquer would be gone or tarnished by 
 now. The other windows on the fourth floor 
 were cut off from view of the fire-escape by an 
 irregularity of the wall. From those windows,
 
 170 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 one could scarcely have thrown the button and 
 hit that spot on the fire-escape "let alone 
 droppin it," thought Rosalie. 
 
 Rosalie wrapped the button in her handker 
 chief and continued her search. Nothing 
 heavier than straws and scraps of paper. 
 
 "Well, you never can tell," she said to her 
 self as she straightened up on the landing be 
 fore Captain Hanska s window; "let s see 
 who in my house ever wears " 
 
 She stopped all motion here ; and since there 
 was no need for concealment, her face showed 
 the shock which she felt. Her eyes widened; 
 her jaw dropped. 
 
 "Um-hum!" she buzzed with the tone of one 
 who gathers the straws of suspicion into a sheaf 
 of fact. "Um-hum!" 
 
 And just then the voice of Inspector McGee 
 boomed from within. 
 
 "Pretty near through?" he asked. 
 
 "Much *as I want," replied Rosalie, voice 
 and face falling at once into indifference. "Is 
 there a place to wash in this house? Water 
 ain t turned off yet? All right. No, never 
 mind I m still young enough to crawl through 
 a window by myself. When I get home, if
 
 171 
 
 I don t scrub myself off! This ll do for one 
 day." 
 
 When, ten minutes later, she returned from 
 the lavatory, marvelously freshened in appear 
 ance, the Inspector awaited her in the lower 
 hall. 
 
 "I may be wanting to come again," she 
 said. "Will you let the cops know?" 
 
 "Well, how do I stack to-day," asked Mar 
 tin McGee, "smart or stupid?" 
 
 "Kind of between," jabbed Rosalie, "but 
 edgin toward stupid still." She smiled again 
 over her shoulder; a dimple played and then 
 another; a lock of hair fell from its fastening 
 over her cheek. 
 
 And suddenly something happened; some 
 thing which Martin McGee, blushing over it 
 later in silence and secrecy, could not himself 
 account for. With the motion of a dancing 
 bear, so awkward was it and yet so quick, he 
 had caught her in his arms and kissed her heav 
 ily on the face. 
 
 Rosalie did not seem to struggle; yet some 
 how, without haste, without disarranging her 
 self in one little item, she was free of him. The 
 surge in Martin McGee receded as rapidly as
 
 172 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 it had risen. He stood blank, his color thick 
 ening. 
 
 "Martin McGee," said Rosalie Le Grange, 
 "you jest cut that out!" 
 
 When Rosalie returned to her house late 
 that afternoon, a murmur of voices greeted 
 her from the front parlor. Ordinarily, the 
 house did not wake up until six o clock, when 
 Miss Harding and Miss Jones brought a pair 
 of high-pitched voices into its quiet. Rosalie 
 parted the portieres and looked in. 
 
 Twilight had come. Constance sat at one 
 end of the room, reading. 
 
 Rosalie s quick glance noted that although 
 she held her book upright her eyes had lifted 
 from its pages, had settled on a spot in mid 
 air half-way across the room. Betsy-Barbara 
 and Tommy North were sitting together in the 
 low, much-draped, much-cushioned seat of the 
 cozy corner. Before them was a little table, 
 furnished with a pad of paper, two pencils 
 sharpened to needle-point fineness, and the cat 
 alogue of a furniture store. Over the table 
 glimmered two blobs of light the yellow-gold 
 that was Betsy-Barbara s head and the red- 
 brown that was Tommy North s. And these
 
 shimmering patches were close together very 
 close. 
 
 Involuntarily, Rosalie listened. 
 
 "I want it to be very simple, but elegant, 
 too," Betsy-Barbara was saying. "Mission 
 would be my choice. Two desks a big, solid, 
 important-looking one for you and a small, 
 modest, utilitarian-looking one for me four 
 chairs, a card-catalogue, a few pictures, simply- 
 framed but dignified, and perhaps a rug." 
 
 "Sounds like a fairy tale to me," said 
 Tommy North. "I tell you what we ll do 
 to-morrow morning we ll draw two hundred 
 and fifty of my five hundred and circulate 
 arouftd among the furniture places and do the 
 thing up brown." 
 
 "Two hundred and fifty!" cried Betsy-Bar 
 bara; "two hundred and fifty! If that isn t 
 like a man! Seventy-five at the outside! 
 We re going around to auction rooms and pick 
 up second-hand stuff. We ll get better things, 
 and they ll look just as good as new when 
 I ve rubbed them up with oil." 
 
 "Well, of course, you re boss," said Tommy 
 North, "but don t you think" 
 
 But here
 
 174 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 "Hadn t you better light up, children?" Ro 
 salie asked. 
 
 "Oh, thank you, Mrs. Le Grange," said 
 Betsy-Barbara. "Now as for the big desk; 
 should you want " 
 
 As Rosalie continued her weary way up 
 stairs, she heard the click of the electric light 
 and the distant babble of voices going on and 
 on. 
 
 "Lord!" she sighed heavily to herself; 
 "lord, lord, how great it is to begin life sweet 
 and pure like that!"
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 MOVING THE PAWNS 
 
 AT breakfast next morning, Rosalie 
 opened her game opened it like a master 
 of human chessmen, with a trifling move or 
 two of the pawns. 
 
 "Don t any of you people be astonished," 
 she said, "if your clothes look strange and or 
 derly when you get home to-night. This is 
 my day for cleaning closets. I announce now 
 that if I find anything isn t hung where it 
 ought to be, I m going to set it right." 
 
 "Please be so good as to cover that box of 
 Bran-O biscuits on the top shelf of my closet, 
 before you begin dusting," requested Professor 
 Noll. 
 
 "I guess it s all right," remarked Tommy 
 North importantly, "but generally I don t let 
 any one but my valley or his assistant meddle 
 with my wardrobe- Remember, please, to foJd 
 them on the same creases upon replacing them. 
 
 175
 
 176 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 While you are about it, you might give some 
 of the passee suits to any deserving person who 
 comes to your attention. For instance, there 
 is my third-best evening suit you will recog 
 nize it at once because it is cut in last year s 
 style. Why not the furnace man? Then 
 there are a dozen sets of English flannels which 
 I ve re-ahly never had a chance to wear, and 
 they re getting a little faded from hanging in 
 the closet. My man tells me that clothes must 
 be worn now and then to preserve their ap 
 pearance. Perhaps the ash man could find use 
 for them. The point is, use your judgment, 
 my good woman. I rely on your honesty to 
 keep for me any bonds or securities which you 
 may find in the pockets of my lounge suits." 
 And Tommy, remarking in a feminine tone, 
 "O blab!" flecked an imaginary speck from the 
 somewhat threadbare sleeve of the only busi 
 ness suit he owned. 
 
 When they were gone, Rosalie Le Grange, 
 refusing assistance from Mrs. Moore, put on 
 dust-cap and long apron and made good her 
 word. But she did more than clean. From 
 Miss Harding s apartment on the ground floor 
 to Miss Estrilla s on the top, she examined mi-
 
 MOVING THE PAWNS 177 
 
 nutely every garment and every pair of shoes. 
 When she had finished, when she stood in her 
 own room dressing for the street, she looked 
 very serious. Before she put away her house- 
 dress, she took from its pocket the red shoe- 
 button. She inspected it again, and locked it 
 away in the deepest compartment of her jewel- 
 case. 
 
 Rosalie walked briskly to a bookstore in the 
 heart of the foreign district, held short consul 
 tation with the clerk, journeyed another block, 
 and stood at length before a sign lettered in 
 many tongues. She hesitated and began talk 
 ing to herself. 
 
 "You can t teach an old dog new tricks," she 
 remarked. 
 
 "But sometimes you can brush up the old 
 tricks he used to know," she added. "It ll take 
 time well, anyway, I m here!" and she en 
 tered. 
 
 When she emerged, it lacked but half an 
 hour of lunch-time. At the table, she made 
 subtle inquiry about the plans of her boarders 
 for the day. Mr. North, already busy with 
 his agency, had not come home to lunch at all. 
 Betsy -Barbara had an engagement to help him
 
 178 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 select furniture. Constance must spend the 
 afternoon with her lawyers. Professor Noll 
 intended to read a paper at the Health Food 
 Conference. Miss Harding and Miss Jones 
 never came home between breakfast and din 
 ner-time. 
 
 "Now s my chance while the house is 
 empty an my nerve s good," she said to her 
 self as the boarders departed one by one. She 
 reflected a moment before she sought the 
 kitchen and addressed Mrs. Moore. 
 
 "My dear," she said, "the cop who s on guard 
 at your old place tells me he thinks the owners 
 have found a tenant. We moved you in a 
 great hurry, an I m sure there must have been 
 a lot of stuff overlooked. Don t you think you 
 better go over the whole place this afternoon? 
 The cop will let you in I spoke to him about 
 it." When Mrs. Moore had gone her lugu 
 brious way, Rosalie turned to Molly, the maid. 
 
 "You d best clean the silver this afternoon, 
 Molly," she said. "Look out for the front 
 door; I m goin to be busy up-stairs, an if any 
 body calls, nobody s at home. Remember 
 what I say." 
 
 Forthwith, Rosalie moved a major piece.
 
 MOVING THE PAWNS 179 
 
 She mounted the stairs toward Miss Estrilla s 
 room. She was behaving strangely. Her 
 eyes looked far away. Her manner seemed 
 remote to the things of this world. As she 
 knocked and entered, she passed her hand over 
 her eyes, gave a little convulsive jerk, dropped 
 her hand to her side, and shook herself. 
 
 Miss Estrilla lay back among the cushions 
 in half-light. She had taken off her dark 
 glasses, but the green shade was low over her 
 eyes. She seemed to catch the strange new 
 manner of Rosalie. 
 
 "What is the matter?" she asked. 
 
 Rosalie did not answer at once. She gave 
 a little stagger, sank down in a chair, and be 
 gan to murmur inarticulate syllables in a low 
 and rather husky voice. 
 
 "What has happened?" asked Miss Estrilla 
 again; and she spoke in real alarm. 
 
 Rosalie sat upright as with great effort. 
 Once or twice her hands clasped and unclasped. 
 
 "Give me that glass of water," she said in a 
 half -whisper. She drank; she wet her fingers 
 and dabbed her temples. 
 
 "Are you ill? Shall I send for some one?" 
 repeated Miss Estrilla. /
 
 180 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 "I m better now," replied Rosalie in a firm 
 but rather sleepy voice. "It s cruel to frighten 
 you. But listen. I m in trouble in a way" 
 at this, Miss Estrilla settled back as though 
 relieved, somehow "an I ve just got to 
 ask for your help. Now please don t be 
 scared. It s really nothin only well, I ve 
 got to tell about it, I guess." All the weari 
 ness of the world was in that last phrase. "I 
 git took this way sometimes. There s nothin 
 dreadful about it when folks understand. 
 Don t call anybody, please don t. Jest stay 
 where you are. In a minute, I ll be goin out 
 of myself unconscious, you know. I ll talk, 
 probably. I may thrash around a little. By 
 an by, I ll stop talkin an be perfectly quiet : 
 Here Rosalie shuddered three or four times 
 again, impersonated an effort of the will, and 
 went on : "Don t do anything to me while I m 
 talkin . But after I m done an lay quiet, wait 
 five minutes. Then if I don t come to, sprinkle 
 water in my face, shake me anything an 
 don t tell anybody " These last words 
 died away in a crooning undertone. Rosalie 
 sank deeper into the chair. Her eyes fixed on 
 the distance. Graduallv, her lids fell. So she
 
 MOVING THE PAWNS 181 
 
 rested for some time, immobile. The room be 
 came so quiet that the rattle of traffic, the gongs 
 of the electric cars, the roar of the Ninth Ave 
 nue elevated, struck the ear with a distinctness 
 almost painful. Miss Estrilla, sitting up on 
 her couch, watched Rosalie intently. Now and 
 then, Rosalie noted, her breathing came in ir 
 regular little catches. From the cover of her 
 long eyelashes, best instrument of her trade, 
 Rosalie stole a glance which took in this con 
 strained attitude. She let her lids droop to a 
 full close. 
 
 "Ugh oh ugh!" went Rosalie s voice fi 
 nally ; and at the deep tone, so unlike Rosalie s 
 accustomed silvern accents, Miss Estrilla 
 started. 
 
 "Doctor Carver" it was a deep male voice 
 which proceeded from Rosalie s entranced lips ; 
 this male voice of her had been the envy of her 
 old contemporaries "a ah! Doctor Carver. 
 I come to speak of a young man. I see him 
 near this place. I see a struggle about him. 
 I see a glass of liquor on one side of him and a 
 woman s hand on the other. He is drawing 
 toward the woman s hands. I see her more 
 clearly now. She has golden hair. I see him
 
 182 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 working far into the night. His hand is writ 
 ing ugh " This was a kind of shuddering 
 groan. "I am going!" Another silence. 
 Then a light flute-like voice the accustomed 
 tone of Laughing-Eyes, Rosalie s famous child 
 control, and the most artistic thing she did. 
 The characteristics of Laughing-Eyes varied 
 greatly with various "sitters." For the igno 
 rant, who like their marvels highly-colored, 
 Rosalie made Laughing-Eyes a babbling child 
 of four or five. For the refined and critical, 
 like Miss Estrilla, Laughing-Eyes was older, 
 subtler, and less whimsically playful. 
 
 "Flowers for a pretty lady!" came the voice 
 of Laughing-Eyes. "Pretty lady is sick. 
 Pretty lady is crying. It s bright here. And 
 the spirits talk to me. One, two, three spirits 
 talk to me. One, two, three spirits talk to 
 Laughing-Eyes. One of them wants the 
 pretty lady oh, he s gone! He is weak. I 
 am weak good-by pretty " Rosalie s lips 
 closed, and she settled down as though into 
 deeper sleep. She waited through a space 
 which seemed eternity. Presently she heard 
 a rustling from the bed. Miss Estrilla had 
 moved. Rosalie braced herself within for the
 
 MOVING THE PAWNS 183 
 
 shock of cold water. But Miss Estrilla only 
 shook her. Rosalie made a sleepy motion and 
 became still. Miss Estrilla shook her again, 
 and called into her ear. 
 
 "Madame Le Grange wake up!" 
 
 This time, Rosalie permitted her eyes to 
 open. She stared a moment as at things re 
 mote, fetched another shudder, sat bolt up 
 right. Her first expression was bewildered; 
 her second startled. There followed every 
 appearance of embarrassment and chagrin. 
 
 "Oh, what has happened?" she said. 
 
 "Don t you know?" asked Miss Estrilla, re 
 garding her narrowly. 
 
 "I remember coming in here," said Rosalie, 
 "an I remember telling you that I might go 
 out fall asleep." She arose at this and be 
 gan nervously to pace the room. 
 
 "I ve got to apologize," she went on, "I am 
 well, the last time I was took this way, I 
 went to my own room. When I came to, it 
 was dark the servants thought I d gone away 
 an forgot to come home to dinner. I made up 
 my mind I wouldn t let it happen again like 
 that an you were the only person in the house. 
 Was I out asleep long?"
 
 184 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 "About six or seven minutes, I think," said 
 Miss Estrilla. Suddenly she covered her eyes 
 with their green shade. 
 
 "What does it mean, all this?" she asked. 
 
 "Poor dear, I believe I must have bothered 
 you with my talking if I did talk." She ap 
 proached the bed, and sat down. 
 
 "Now I m goin to tell you all about it," pur 
 sued Rosalie; "I must, of course. It ain t 
 right not to explain, now I ve made this scene. 
 But you ll be the only livin soul around the 
 house that knows a thing, an you ll understand 
 what I mean when I m through. Comin right 
 out with it, I ve been a medium a spirit medi 
 um all my life. You know what that is, don t 
 you?" 
 
 "Oh, yes!" 
 
 "Didn t know but you mightn t. Some 
 folks don t, an some hold a low opinion of em. 
 I do myself." Rosalie paused. "That was 
 why I cut it out, maybe that and the feelin 
 that my powers was goin . It s a dreadfully 
 tryin occupation, an the associations are bad 
 quacks an fakes an things. I never faked, 
 but there was a temptation to do it all the time. 
 Well, one day comes a legacy money I d
 
 MOVING THE PAWNS 185 
 
 never counted on or expected. An that hap 
 pened jest when it seemed like my power had 
 grown weak an I had to quit or be a fake 
 because when people come an pay you two dol 
 lars you have to deliver answers or you ll git 
 no more custom. So I jest determined to drop 
 it all an go to keepin boarders with my 
 money." 
 
 Rosalie made the proper dramatic pause 
 here, and let her voice fall. 
 
 "You can t do a thing all your life, though, 
 an stop it right away. I hadn t counted on 
 that. I never could control my trances ex 
 actly. They had a way of comin when they 
 wanted to. Why, once at a whist party but 
 never mind that. An I hadn t been keepin 
 boarders two weeks, before I begun to have the 
 feelin . It s queer. I can t describe it to you 
 unless you re mediumistic yourself, but it takes 
 you right here " she touched her ample bosom 
 with one hand. "You can hold it off for a 
 while, an then it s like holdin off sleep. 
 Twice before this week it s happened I ve 
 told you what I did the second time, an how it 
 scared me. An jest now, standin in the hall, 
 I felt it comin on strong. You know the
 
 186 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 rest. An I hope you ll excuse me an you 
 won t say a thing, will you?" Rosalie s voice 
 held all the pleading in the world. 
 
 Miss Estrilla, expressionless behind her 
 green shade, spoke in an even and unemotional 
 voice. 
 
 "And what do your spirits say to you?" 
 
 "To me?" replied Rosalie; "goodness, I don t 
 know. I wish I did. That was always a curi 
 ous thing about my mediumship. You see, 
 there s every kind. Some folks are clairau- 
 dient. They hear things while they re wide 
 awake. Some are clairvoyant in half trance. 
 That means they see, an they know all the time 
 what they ve seen and what they re sayin . 
 I m the worst kind. I never could get a thing 
 except in full trance jest like I was asleep. I 
 have to find afterwards from other people what 
 I said or did. Well, I m as sorry as can be 
 that I bothered you, an won t do it again, if I 
 can help it. Did I talk much?" 
 
 "Not a great deal. Something about a 
 young man and a young woman." 
 
 "Anybody in the house? Sometimes they 
 tell me my spirits talk about folks a thousand
 
 MOVING THE PAWNS 187 
 
 miles away an sometimes about folks that are 
 right here." 
 
 Miss Estrilla seemed to be considering this. 
 When she spoke, her voice was still even and 
 perfectly controlled; but she did not answer 
 the question. 
 
 "You have been very kind," she said, "and 
 I don t see why you should tell any one else. 
 You may come here whenever you feel that 
 way. It would be a pleasure to return your 
 kindness." 
 
 Rosalie sighed as in relief. 
 
 "My! That s good. I didn t want to ask 
 it s a lot to ask of anybody but now you ve 
 offered, I ll take it. I ve been thinkin lately 
 it would be a good thing to let go of myself 
 when I feel it comin , an get it off my system. 
 Was that the bell? Excuse me I ain t sure 
 that lazy Molly will answer it. An thank 
 you, my dear." 
 
 The bell was only a pedler. When Rosa 
 lie had disposed of him, she consulted her 
 watch. Much remained of the afternoon ; and 
 the house was still deserted. 
 
 "Good time to git in an hour s session with
 
 188 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 that darned phonograph," she said; and she 
 took refuge in her own big clothes-closet 
 which, experiment had shown, was sound 
 proof.
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 A LONE HAND 
 
 MARTIN McGEE waited to keep his 
 latest appointment with Rosalie Le 
 Grange on a bench in Stuyvesant Fish Park, 
 dead center for the Hebrew population in New 
 York. Before and behind him a regiment of 
 children swarmed over horizontal bars or made 
 loud play with park swings. On the benches 
 to right and left sat a crowd of squalid loafers, 
 most of whom would have shuffled away into 
 the dives and alleys of the East Side had they 
 known that this florid stalwart gentleman in 
 the plain gray suit was a high policeman. On 
 the fringes of his vision, Yiddish housewives 
 bargained with push-cart pedlers. It was all 
 very lively, very alien and very odorous. 
 Martin McGee speculated lazily and with some 
 amusement upon the habits of Rosalie Le 
 Grange so much her own, yet so well con 
 ceived for her purposes. For example, this 
 
 189
 
 190 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 method of holding business conferences on se 
 cret affairs for she always set her appoint 
 ments in Stuyvesant Fish Park, or some other 
 out-of-the-way open space. It was a highly 
 original, highly effective plan. One could en 
 ter without attracting attention; one could 
 watch the approaches; a meeting in a public 
 park grant that it were discovered in such a 
 remote part of the city could be passed off as 
 an accidental encounter, not a conference. 
 That was one of the thousand ways in which her 
 mind thought faster and further than his. He 
 felt even a shade of jealousy as he dwelt upon 
 her. With that ripple in the pool of his 
 thoughts came another disturbed feeling. 
 How was he to meet her after what had hap 
 pened three days ago in the hallway of Mrs. 
 Moore s old house ? The thing had been an ex 
 plosion of emotion, beyond control of will. 
 Martin McGee did not put it so. "It got away 
 with me" was how he expressed it to himself. 
 
 Martin McGee was approaching fifty, the 
 second period of sentiment in man. In the 
 lusty summer of bis days, he had wooed and 
 lost. She had chosen the other arm of munic 
 ipal warfare and married a fireman. Since
 
 A LONE HAND 191 
 
 then woman had cut but a shadowy figure in 
 his bachelor life. And here, in his middle age, 
 the face and figure, the form and move of a 
 woman was playing hide-and-seek among his 
 thoughts of police duty and police privilege. 
 He recognized even a certain embarrassment 
 over the coming meeting like that of a youth 
 who has been slapped by a perky girl. Only 
 one fact gave him satisfaction. Her cold with 
 drawal from him, her genuine indignation, set 
 tled finally to his enchanted mind certain 
 surmises concerning one element in the char 
 acter of Rosalie Le Grange. This, however, 
 raised up a regiment of disturbing thoughts. 
 She had been a professional medium; and a 
 medium was a half -crook ; it wasn t respectable. 
 With the perverse yearning of one who has 
 passed his life among disreputabilities, Martin 
 McGee loved respectability in woman. And 
 
 "How do you do?" said a voice beside him; 
 and Rosalie s self settled down on the park 
 bench. 
 
 He looked at her without rising, his first 
 thought to read in those eyes of hers, which 
 mirrored so many emotions, her attitude to 
 ward him. The eyes were laughing!
 
 192 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 "How do you do?" he repeated after her. 
 And then, as though he must be out with it : 
 
 "Say, I guess there s an apology coming 
 from me." 
 
 "If there is," said Rosalie, "there s one com 
 ing from about every man I ever knew. It s 
 the way of the animal. It s a kind of a left- 
 handed compliment to the lady though." 
 
 Martin McGee, a little unaccustomed since 
 his philandering days to the slender arrows of 
 feminine attack, winced at this subtle variation 
 of the common, "you re-just-like-all-the-rest." 
 It stuck full to the shaft ; and in a tender and 
 uninured spot. 
 
 "This was different," said he. 
 
 "So they all say!" said she. But she was 
 smiling, and her expression, while it held amuse 
 ment, was warm and mellow. "Now let s over 
 look little things. I ve come to talk business. 
 I m busting with it." She glanced to right and 
 left, taking in a faded "black hood" of a woman, 
 a sodden "panhandler" of a man. "I guess 
 we d better walk," she said. They rose and 
 threaded the push-carts, the crowds, the confu 
 sion and smells, toward the river. 
 
 "Now I m playing a lone hand," she began.
 
 A LONE HAND 193 
 
 "If things go wrong, I ve only myself to blame ; 
 an if they go right, you get all the credit as 
 usual. I want help an no questions asked. 
 This Black-hand outfit of dago detectives 
 what have you got, that you can lend, me?" 
 
 "You want" 
 
 "A detective from the dago squad. I want 
 him straight an I want him quick an I want 
 him for my own he reports to me, not to you." 
 
 "What for?" 
 
 "That wouldn t be playin a lone hand. Do 
 I get him?" 
 
 "I suppose you do." 
 
 "Well, who s available?" 
 
 "Let s see there s Anzini." 
 
 "What s he like?" 
 
 "Italian Swiss. Big fat fellow. Little 
 slow, but straight." 
 
 "Next?" 
 
 "Cuccoli. Born in New York. A dago 
 light-weight fighter. Works on the quiet as a 
 stool-pigeon. Likely to get into trouble but 
 keen. Then there s Grimaldi. He s a scholar 
 used to be a schoolmaster and I keep him 
 on classy dago jobs. He talks Spanish and 
 French like a native taught school once in
 
 194 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 Spain. A little fellow, and very talkative. 
 Perugini is the slickest bull of the lot. He s 
 big and a good fellow but he s pretty busy 
 now on the dynamitings, they tell me." 
 
 "This Grim whatever you call him this 
 
 scholar he s talkative, you say?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Straight, too?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Well, I want him." 
 
 "All right. When does he report?" 
 
 "To-morrow morning at seven o clock, Bat 
 tery Park with a description of me. He ain t 
 to call my name first wait until I tell him who 
 I am see?" 
 
 "Give him a description of you?" ventured 
 McGee, verging now on compliment. "If I do 
 and Maxine Elliot, or any of them, happen to 
 be taking an early morning stroll in the park * 
 
 "Tell him," said Rosalie, breaking in, "to 
 watch out for a dear old lady with hair getting 
 white on top an* lookin as if she d seen better 
 days." 
 
 "He ll never find you!" 
 
 "Again thankin you for your kind attentions, 
 but resumin business," said Rosalie with asper-
 
 A LONE HAND 195 
 
 ity, "I ll wear my plum-colored suit an a black 
 turban you know what a turban is it s one of 
 those hats" and she indicated a passing girl 
 "an in place of the regular red carnation for 
 meetings in the park, I ll be carry in " she 
 considered a moment "a purple automobile 
 veil. That ought to settle me in his mind." 
 
 "I don t want to be prying into what s no 
 business of mine," said Martin, with a touch of 
 sarcasm, "but what s this all about? What s it 
 got to do with the guilt or innocence of Law 
 rence Wade?" 
 
 "A whole lot with his innocence maybe." 
 
 "Oh, come off!" exclaimed Martin. But his 
 tone lacked a little in conviction, as though he 
 were seeking to maintain a front. "You want 
 to be careful in this matter," he added with the 
 tone of a preceptor, "not to let your feelings 
 get away with you. Just because you ve a lik 
 ing for that widow in the case." 
 
 "No?" inquired Rosalie. 
 
 But that sarcastic word whipped some raw 
 nerve in Inspector McGee. 
 
 "All right," he grumbled. "But being on 
 the outside looking in is a queer place for a 
 chief of detectives."
 
 196 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 Rosalie only laughed. 
 
 "I d like to have you inside, Martin McGee, 
 but I ve got only myself to blame if this fiz 
 zles!" 
 
 They walked a while in silence ; then Rosalie 
 stopped. 
 
 "That s all arranged then.. We d better be 
 getting back. I ll take a cross- town car. We 
 shouldn t be seen together in the middle of the 
 city." 
 
 "Say," said McGee as they turned, "why 
 don t you ever let me see you between times? 
 Course you must keep away from me now, but 
 after this thing is settled, I want you to come 
 out to lunch and dinner. We might as well 
 be friendly." 
 
 "After this thing is settled oh, you re a cop 
 after all!" said Rosalie. Before McGee could 
 unravel this cryptic, she resumed: 
 
 "Haven t you ever thought what we re doin 
 we two, gadding about talkin of lunch and 
 dinners ? You ve been a cop too long, I guess. 
 I had a sittin with myself last night. If we 
 succeed if you make a good case of it, an if 
 I git what I m after somebody goes to the 
 chair. That s what we re doin . You don t
 
 A LONE HAND 197 
 
 think of it. You re a man an a cop. But I 
 do." 
 
 "Not enough to make you stop?" inquired 
 McGee, regarding her narrowly. 
 
 "No, but enough to make me sure the right 
 one goes, and enough to make me want to stop 
 thinkin of what will happen when we get 
 through." Her voice caught on this. McGee 
 looked at her sharply. Her eyes were swim 
 ming. 
 
 "If you listened to the people they leave be 
 hind, as a medium has," she said. "But good 
 ness" and she dabbed her eyes "that will 
 be about all from me. Only" a dimple flick 
 ered "this life on the flesh-plane s a hard 
 thing." They were at the car now. "I ll send 
 for you when wanted, Martin McGee," she 
 said. "An remember a purple auto veil in 
 my right hand." 
 
 Rosalie did not return home at once. In 
 stead, she proceeded to that house in the Latin 
 Quarter before which she had paused and con 
 sidered a problem three days before. It is one 
 of Rosalie s peculiarities that she shrouds every 
 thing in mystery, but lets out a clue here and 
 there to puzzle the observer and to satisfy her
 
 198 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 individual sense of humor. I who write of her 
 have caught that trick from Rosalie. I will 
 reveal now as Rosalie would have revealed it 
 with a flash of eyes and dimples that this 
 place bore the sign, "J. Martinez, Teacher of 
 Languages," and that the phonograph which 
 she kept in her closet was a device of the Mar 
 tinez Method in Languages. She was refresh 
 ing her somewhat scattered knowledge of con 
 versational Spanish, gained years ago when 
 she played a profitable season at trance, test 
 and development work in El Paso, San An 
 tonio, and other points near the border. She 
 spent a half -hour in conversation with Profes 
 sor Martinez, did a few necessary errands, and 
 reached her house at five o clock. Betsy-Bar 
 bara was just coming in.
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 CRYING IT OUT 
 
 r I iHERE was something the matter with 
 JL Betsy-Barbara. Even before she spoke, 
 Rosalie recognized that. 
 
 "I m afraid Constance is going to pieces,* 
 said Betsy-Barbara, relieving her mind at once. 
 "She worries me to death. She will go to the 
 Tombs. When she leaves there, she s like a 
 rock Mr. Wade is perfectly bully, and he 
 seems to inspire her with his own confidence. 
 But the moment she gets back here, she just 
 wilts!" Here Betsy-Barbara herself seemed 
 to break ; the tears came, and with them a little 
 hard burst of laughter. The experienced 
 Rosalie took her to her own room, wheeled her 
 to the couch, banked her comfortably with 
 pillows. 
 
 "Now cry it out, my dear," she said. And 
 Betsy-Barbara cried it out. 
 
 Rosalie herself spilled a few tears, so that 
 199
 
 200 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 she ceased for a time her caressing monosylla 
 bles for fear of the unsteadiness in her own 
 voice. 
 
 "I ought not to let myself go like this," said 
 Betsy-Barbara when the storm was over, "I m 
 as ashamed as I can be. At least, I never let 
 Constance see how I feel. But sometimes 
 when I m alone " 
 
 "I know, dear, I know!" said Rosalie, bus 
 tling about with water, towels, smelling-salts, 
 toilet water, all the restoratives of the feminine 
 pharmacopoeia, "there s two kinds of people in 
 this world, dearie the posts and the rails. 
 You an I are posts. But there s times when a 
 person would like to quit and be rebuilt an sag 
 down an be a rail. Now let me put this on 
 your face, dearie, an you ll come to dinner as 
 fresh as ever." She bathed Betsy-Barbara s 
 face with long motherly strokes. 
 
 "But it s such a dreadfully long time to 
 wait," sobbed Betsy-Barbara, her eyes giving 
 signs of a clearing shower, "that I scarcely dare 
 look ahead. And when I think of the trial and 
 the awful strain on Constance " 
 
 "If there ever is a trial," replied Rosalie. 
 "Why, he hasn t even been indicted yet. You
 
 CRYING IT OUT 201 
 
 don t understand the game or you d know how 
 much that means. They don t dare indict him 
 with the little tiny bit of evidence they ve got. 
 It s long, but the longer the night the brighter 
 the day, I say. An just when it seems you 
 haven t a drop of strength left, is the very time 
 you get strength from somewhere. I ve got 
 my own ideas about where it comes from but 
 there ! That s religion, an we ain t talkin re 
 ligion. Of course, you re goin to let me help 
 you." While Rosalie spoke, she had mechanic 
 ally handed Betsy-Barbara the atomizer. Me 
 chanically, Betsy-Barbara took it and sprayed 
 her pearly throat with toilet water. Mechan 
 ically again, Rosalie gave her a square of cham 
 ois, white with face powder. Mechanically, 
 Betsy-Barbara passed it over cheeks and nose. 
 
 "Thank you but you have helped a great 
 deal already," said Betsy-Barbara, emerging 
 from these ministrations a delicious, white-faced 
 little clown. "I don t know what ever I should 
 have done without you," she added as she dusted 
 off the superfluous powder with little dashing 
 touches of her hands. 
 
 "Oh, that s nothin . I m a horse for carry 
 ing troubles other people s. I haven t chick
 
 202 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 or child or husband or relation, which is why 
 I never lug round any serious worries of my 
 own. But I ve found enough an to spare of 
 other people s since I took over the remains of 
 this Hanska murder case. If murderers only 
 knew," she added, dimpling, "how much they 
 put out a person s way of life, they d count ten 
 first and never do it." 
 
 Betsy-Barbara, smoothing her brows and 
 brushing powder out of her lashes with her fin 
 ger-tips, smiled at this pleasantry, grim though 
 it was. 
 
 "I didn t know," she said, "that the case 
 greatly bothered any one here except Constance 
 and me or not since Mr. North was released 
 at any rate." 
 
 "Well, I wish that was all," began Rosalie. 
 She paused here for a second, her body frozen 
 to a pose. So she always paused upon the birth 
 of a new idea. Had she known of this habit, 
 she would have practised to control it ; for she 
 had studied, during thirty years of trafficking 
 with man s emotional expression, to let no ex 
 ternal sign betray her real thought unless she 
 wished to betray that thought. But this was 
 such an infinitesimal trick of manner that none,
 
 CRYING IT OUT 203 
 
 not even her shrewd-eyed fellows of her old 
 craft, had ever discovered it. We, however, 
 who behold and study Rosalie Le Grange from 
 the standpoint of the divine, may observe it 
 and make comment. As we tread the mazes 
 of her diplomacies, it will be a guide to our feet. 
 
 "Mainly," resumed Rosalie after this little 
 significant pause, "it s this Miss Estrilla. The 
 whole affair has got dreadfully on her nerves, 
 she being sick as she is all run down." 
 
 At mention of that name, Betsy-Barbara 
 looked up suddenly. Some harder emotion, 
 Rosalie observed, seemed to pierce the thinning 
 cloud of her grief. 
 
 "Yes?" said Betsy-Barbara. Her tone was 
 non-committal. 
 
 "The shock got on her nerves. She was 
 away up on the top floor that night, hearin 
 everything and seein nothing at all. That al 
 ways makes it worse. She wouldn t even read 
 the papers afterward, an I never mention the 
 case to her nor do you, dearie. I soon found 
 out that she s like you an me she s the kind to 
 worry about other people s troubles. An it s 
 queer, but one little thing bothers her a whole 
 lot. She heard about Mr. North comin home
 
 204 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 drunk, an she s afraid that he ll go bad with 
 liquor thinkin about his arrest. Tell me," she 
 added, suddenly shifting the line of attack, "he 
 has really cut out liquor an got busy, hasn t 
 he?" 
 
 Rosalie, reading Betsy-Barbara s mind by 
 the process of observing expressions and mak 
 ing swift deductions thereon, perceived that 
 Betsy-Barbara was about to say, "What affair 
 is it of yours?" She perceived also that the 
 better part of Betsy-Barbara, the part which 
 impelled her to her philanthropies of service, 
 had put down that vixenish reply. 
 
 "Yes," said Betsy-Barbara, "I think he won t 
 drink any more. He s too busy with his 
 agency." 
 
 "How s it going?" asked Rosalie. 
 
 "Splendid, I hear," replied Betsy-Barbara. 
 "He s getting promises of some very good busi 
 ness already." 
 
 Rosalie resumed her best motherly expres 
 sion. 
 
 "Now I m just as sure as I can be," she 
 said, "that you were the person who made him 
 do it. When I first thought over the case of 
 that young man, I saw what he needed. An
 
 CRYING IT OUT 205 
 
 he s got it, all right! Guess you can count on 
 him. When a man really has the habit, he s 
 gone. But when he hasn t, all he needs is 
 something more interesting to do." 
 
 "I think so," replied Betsy-Barbara, relieved 
 that Rosalie seemed to be prying no further 
 into her relations with Tommy North. 
 
 "I m sure. Well, gettin back to Miss Es- 
 trilla. She showed to-day in a little talk with 
 me that Mr. North was on her mind. I notice 
 you don t go up there much. But if you could 
 stop in once or twice just like you used to, an 
 about the second time let it out natural about 
 Mr. North s takin a brace an* goin to work, 
 it would be a blessing to her. Of course, it 
 must be led up to an you mustn t say any- 
 thin about the murder. She just can t stand 
 that." 
 
 Betsy-Barbara did not show the enthusiasm 
 which Rosalie expected. She hesitated. This 
 was genuinely puzzling. Rosalie s memory, 
 playing like lightning over this turn in girl- 
 psychology, called up a set of facts which she 
 had hitherto observed without correlation. Of 
 late, though Seiior Estrilla by no means neg 
 lected his sister, his visits to the parlor had be-
 
 206 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 come more regular. Twice she had seen him 
 talking to Betsy-Barbara in the hall. It was 
 Rosalie s impression that he had waited there to 
 find an opening for a tete-a-tete. 
 
 "Is it Mr. Estrilla an not Tommy North 
 that she s doin this maneuverin to cover up?" 
 she asked herself mentally. 
 
 All this had passed with the swiftness of 
 thought when thought travels the electric 
 wires of such a mind as Rosalie s. But now 
 Betsy-Barbara was speaking: 
 
 "The reason I haven t been there, Mrs. Le 
 Grange, is frankly because of Mr. Estrilla. 
 He s so so so overpowering I guess I 
 mean. Of course, I don t take him seriously, 
 and yet he does look at me so and pay me such 
 extraordinary compliments ! I don t know ex 
 actly how to handle that kind of man," she 
 ended with a little nervous laugh. 
 
 Rosalie waited. 
 
 "Of course, you understand, I like him. I 
 can t exactly let him see how much I like him, 
 for fear he ll think it s" she paused and 
 laughed "it s the way he seems to want me to 
 like him." 
 
 "He s a dear," said Rosalie with genuine
 
 CRYING IT OUT 207 
 
 warmth ; "can t say when I ve seen a young man 
 that an old woman like me feels more like 
 wantin to play around with. But it is bother 
 some to you, I can see. Especially when 
 there s a nice young American man that you 
 feel some responsibility for." 
 
 Betsy-Barbara bristled a moment at this. 
 But as Rosalie had foreseen the feminine in 
 stinct for confession was stronger than the 
 feminine instinct for concealment. 
 
 "I ve had a hard time to keep Mr. North 
 from seeing it. Not that it s any of his busi 
 ness exactly, or that I think he d care partic 
 ularly. But just at this moment, Mr. .North 
 really needs me. If he thought that Mr. Es- 
 trilla well, it might spoil all I m trying to 
 do for him." 
 
 "Yes, indeed!" replied Rosalie, without a 
 trace of irony. 
 
 Betsy-Barbara went on in a nonchalant 
 voice. 
 
 "These two men are nothing to me, of course. 
 Mr. Estrilla is a very interesting person. He s 
 handsome, and in the right way if you know 
 what I mean. I love his little accent and his 
 witty talk, and I think his singing is simply
 
 208 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 adorable. As for Mr. North" Betsy-Bar 
 bara paused. Then her voice ran glibly to its 
 carefully careless conclusion "he s only a very 
 good friend." 
 
 "It s Tommy North, all right!" was Rosa 
 lie s mental comment. 
 
 "Well," she said aloud, "those things are like 
 anything else. They look worse a ways off 
 than they do when you re facin them. Slip 
 me a word if any of it ever really bothers you, 
 an I can probably help. You wouldn t care 
 to do what I asked for Miss Estrilla?" 
 
 "Oh, yes. I can surely do that!" replied 
 Betsy-Barbara, her generosity reviving, now 
 that she had opened her mind a little. 
 
 "That s a good girl! Now remember wait 
 a while before you get it in I don t want her 
 to suspect that I tipped you off. Goodness! 
 What are those girls doin in the kitchen that 
 makes such a smell?" And Rosalie sped to 
 her household duties. 
 
 The next evening, as the little party in the 
 parlor adjourned, Betsy-Barbara called Rosa 
 lie aside to say: 
 
 "I did as you told me in fact as soon as I 
 began talking about Mr. North this evening,
 
 CRYING IT OUT 209 
 
 Miss Estrilla asked me herself how he was do 
 ing. So I gave her the whole story about the 
 agency, you know." 
 
 "Did she seem relieved?" asked Rosalie. 
 
 "No," said Betsy-Barbara, musing, "relieved 
 isn t exactly the word. It was really queer the 
 way she took it she was so interested. Why, 
 she just listened breathlessly!" 
 
 As Rosalie finished her session with the 
 phonograph that night and began to take 
 down her hair, she talked to herself under her 
 breath. 
 
 "Well, Miss Estrilla connected up the two 
 things, all right that spirit dope about the 
 whisky bottle with the little talk I planted in 
 Betsy-Barbara Lane. Clever of -me to think 
 of Betsy-Barbara. But I ve got to go slow 
 slower n I ever did in my life !"
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 THE PEREZ FAMILY 
 
 I 1ST a remote corner of Central Park, Rosalie 
 was holding a conference with Grimaldi, her 
 specially-assigned detective in the Hanska case. 
 He was a small Italian of the blond northern 
 type, a throwback to some remote Gothic an 
 cestor. He showed his race, however, in con 
 tour, in manner, and in certain personal pecul 
 iarities, as the care with which he waxed his 
 mustache, the loud color in his shirt and cravat, 
 the neatness of his small pointed shoes. 
 Schoolmaster that he had been, linguist that he 
 was, he spoke English in academic form but 
 with trimmings of police slang. 
 
 "I think," said Grimaldi, "that the real name 
 is Perez." 
 
 "How did you get that?" 
 
 "It took a little time. First I frisked his 
 room. I went in as the gas inspector." 
 
 210
 
 THE PEREZ FAMILY 211 
 
 "Which was takin risks," admonished Rosa 
 lie. 
 
 "Not the way I did it. The real inspector 
 is my friend ; I had his permission to imperson 
 ate him." 
 
 "Pretty good!" commented Rosalie. "An* 
 you found nothing about what I m after?" 
 
 "No. That was the suspicious thing I 
 mean, the absence of any sign of identification 
 looked curious to me. I didn t have much 
 time, so I went straight to the favorable places. 
 This Estrilla or Perez had only four or five 
 books. There was no writing in them but the 
 fly-leaf was torn out of all the old ones. I ex 
 amined his clothes. They look English to me 
 certainly they aren t the work of an Ameri 
 can tailor nor yet a Spanish. Perhaps you 
 don t know that a tailor generally sews some 
 where behind a pocket a little tag giving the 
 date, his own name and the name of the cus 
 tomer?" 
 
 "Don t I?" inquired Rosalie. A hundred 
 times she had used that peculiarity of tailors as 
 a part of her "mediumship." 
 
 "Well," said Grimaldi, "they are gone!" 
 
 Rosalie looked her surprise.
 
 212 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 "Gone, every one of them, ripped right out, 5 
 said Grimaldi. "You could see where the 
 threads had been. The same with the hats. 
 But I found one thing which didn t amount to 
 much, except that it was an opening. He has 
 a camera. I don t know why I examined that, 
 unless it was a hunch. It was foreign-made 
 American boxes are manufactured by a trust, 
 and they all look alike. Down by the range- 
 scale I found a nickel plate such as agents al 
 ways put on cameras. It read: J. Lichen- 
 stein, Cameras and Camera Supplies, Port of 
 Spain, Trinidad. " 
 
 "Where s that?" 
 
 "Trinidad is an island off the coast of South 
 America near Venezuela. Port of Spain is 
 the main town. It s a British possession, but 
 there are many French and Spanish residents. 
 I had taken the precaution, when I started out, 
 to have the police photographer get a snap 
 shot of this Estrilla. I took the picture to 
 well, never mind who he is. He s lived all over 
 South America. He knows every Spanish 
 colony in town. He helps the police as a stool- 
 pigeon, which is why I m not telling his name. 
 And he gave me what may be an identification.
 
 THE PEREZ FAMILY 213 
 
 He s almost sure that Estrilla is a Spaniard 
 from Port of Spain named Juan Perez. The 
 Perez family were cacao growers in Trinidad. 
 The head of the family was named Miguel 
 Perez I suppose, though, you aren t inter 
 ested in the family." 
 
 "That s just what I want to know." 
 
 "Miguel Perez was this man s father if the 
 stool-pigeon is right in his identification. The 
 stool-pigeon was down there about three or 
 four years ago. At that time, Miguel Perez 
 had just died, and this Juan had inherited the 
 business. It seemed that he wasn t getting on 
 well with it. At least, that was the gossip. 
 That s all oh, yes, the stool-pigeon remem 
 bered one other thing about Miguel Perez. 
 He d had an early romance with an English 
 girl navy people. Miguel Perez married her, 
 and she didn t live very long. After that, he 
 married again a Spanish girl from Caracas 
 and Juan Perez was the son of that mar 
 riage. That was about all he could remem 
 ber." 
 
 "Still, the camera marked Port of Spain, 
 seems to fix it, somehow." 
 
 "It seems to. But, of course, you can t be
 
 214 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 certain. He may be a relative and have a 
 family resemblance." 
 
 "Your friend didn t know whether old Mig 
 uel Perez had any children by his first mar 
 riage to the English girl?" 
 
 "He didn t say, at least." 
 
 Rosalie congealed to a pose with the advent 
 of an idea. 
 
 "Tell me," she asked, "when a father and a 
 mother are of different nationalities talk dif 
 ferent languages what language does the baby 
 learn first the father s or the mother s?" 
 
 "Oh, the mother s always." 
 
 "So if there was a child from his first mar 
 riage to the English girl he d talk better 
 English than Juan Perez?" 
 
 "He d pronounce it better, anyway. There s 
 no reason why, with such a start, a child 
 brought up in Port of Spain, which is an Eng 
 lish possession, shouldn t speak as good Eng 
 lish as" here Grimaldi was about to say "as 
 you," but sense of truth restrained him "as 
 anybody," he concluded. 
 
 "And a mother always talks to her baby in 
 her own language." 
 
 "Oh, of course."
 
 THE PEREZ FAMILY 215 
 
 "An if any foreigner you, for instance 
 gits real excited an talks quick, what language 
 does he use?" 
 
 "Oh, his own first tongue ! When I m really 
 angry, I always begin to swear in Piedmont 
 dialect." 
 
 Rosalie mused aloud ; and in that musing she 
 cleared up for us one of her mysteries of 
 method. 
 
 "It does look to me," she said, "as if I d 
 wasted a lot of time brushin up my Spanish 
 with the Martinez Phonograph Method. Still, 
 it s bound to help here and there. Listen," she 
 addressed Grimaldi, "I did a turn once never 
 mind what on the Mexican border El Paso, 
 San Antonio, an places like that. Circum 
 stance was such that I had to learn as much 
 Spanish as I could my business called for it. 
 I ve been studyin it again lately. You under 
 stand Spanish, don t you?" 
 
 "As well as I do English." 
 
 "Then," said Rosalie in Spanish, "how does 
 this sound? Is it good conversational Span 
 ish? Tell me what you think." 
 
 "Well," said Grimaldi, "it runs all right, but 
 any one would know you weren t Spanish born.
 
 216 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 Still, it s pretty good, and I suppose you could 
 fool a Spaniard for a few words. What are 
 you trying to do with Spanish?" 
 
 "Oh, nothing," replied Rosalie carelessly. 
 "Well, I must go on. Keep him shadowed, an 
 when you git anything new, you know where 
 to find me. Good-by." 
 
 At home in her own room again, Rosalie 
 pondered long, a nervous finger picking at a 
 musing lip pondered until she stood frozen 
 with a new idea. Those rings of Miss Es- 
 trilla s she had long wanted a look at them. 
 Especially that big diamond with a curious 
 onyx and gold setting which she wore on her 
 left hand. The forgotten visiting-cards in 
 wraps laid aside at the door; the initials on a 
 bag; the posy in a ring by slight clues like 
 these she had found the way to old roads of 
 the mind in all her years of professional en 
 deavor. Rosalie had noted Miss Estrilla s 
 care of that ring; noted how she washed her 
 hands without removing it. Chance, there 
 fore, would never give the opportunity. She 
 herself must make it. She meditated. Again
 
 THE PEREZ FAMILY 217 
 
 her finger stopped its drumming on her lip, 
 and she congealed to a pose. 
 
 "Molly," she was saying to the maid half 
 an hour later, "I guess I ll take up Miss Es- 
 trilla s dinner to-night." As though by an 
 afterthought, she picked up a late edition of an 
 evening newspaper and laid it on the edge of 
 the tray. 
 
 "I ve brought your dinner myself," she said 
 to Miss Estrilla. She put down the tray, ad 
 justed the napkin, bolstered the invalid with 
 the pillows, and took up a cup of bouillon. 
 
 "There now, I ll help oh, dearie, I m so 
 sorry!" For Rosalie had stumbled slightly in 
 approaching the couch, and the bouillon had 
 splashed over the napkin, the spread, and Miss 
 Estrilla s hands. Rosalie bubbled apologies as 
 she hurried about the room, getting cloth, tow 
 els, warm water. Miss Estrilla was very gra 
 cious, but Rosalie continued to apologize as she 
 began to scrub her hands. 
 
 "Didn t burn you, did it?" asked Rosalie. 
 
 "No; but it s very sticky," replied Miss Es 
 trilla. 
 
 "I can t get under those rings let me
 
 218 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 there, my dear." Rosalie deftly removed the 
 rings, laid them without a glance on the edge 
 of the tray, and continued to chatter as she 
 scrubbed. 
 
 "I brought you ii the evening paper," she 
 said. "You can t read it, but I thought you d 
 like to see the pictures of that new Spanish 
 tenor they re makin all the fuss over you 
 asked me about him *he other day. Remem 
 ber?" She had finished wiping Miss Estrilla s 
 hands; and now she gave her the newspaper, 
 the photograph of the tenor folded to the front. 
 Miss Estrilla took the bait. She moved the 
 paper close to her eyes. In that second, the 
 deft Rosalie had made three motions and used 
 her quick perceptions. There was a line inside 
 the big ring: 
 
 "Miguel * Victoria, 1873." 
 
 "Now we re ready for dinner," said Rosalie. 
 "Shall I send down for more soup? No?" 
 Miss Estrilla seemed in that moment to miss 
 her rings. She perceived them on the edge of 
 the tray and slipped them on. 
 
 Before she left, Rosalie spun and tied an-
 
 THE PEREZ FAMILY 219 
 
 other thread of the web she was weaving so 
 deftly and yet so cautiously. 
 
 "I hate even to mention it," she said, "but 
 I ve been feelin them comin on to-day my 
 spells. I know you said I could have em in 
 here alone with you, but I haven t wanted to 
 bother you. I sensed the beginnin of one this 
 afternoon. I beat it this time by workin hard 
 an shuttin my teeth. If it really gets me if 
 I can t hold it off any longer I m likely to be 
 in here most any time." 
 
 Miss Estrilla, her face and her emotions hid 
 den from view by the eye-shade, answered in a 
 voice which began calmly, evenly : 
 
 "I should be very glad whenever you wish!" 
 There was a little break on the last word. Ro 
 salie noted this. Something was evidently at 
 work under the calm surface. Could it be 
 eagerness ? 
 
 Rosalie did not return at once to the dining- 
 room, although the rattle of dishes and of voices 
 invited. She sought her own apartment, sat 
 down on the bed, her chin in her hand and 
 began talking faintly to herself. 
 
 "Identification was straight, all right. It s 
 them." A pause. "Think of draggin moth-
 
 220 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 er-love into such a thing!" A pause. "Well, 
 ain t you faked with this mother stuff all your 
 life? Looks to me like some of that lady busi 
 ness had sunk in." Another pause. "But I 
 never did it before to turn a trick like this." 
 And she shuddered. "I m a softy what will 
 I ever say to Martin I can t!" 
 
 Twin steps sounded on the stairs; through 
 the half-open door came two voices those of 
 Betsy-Barbara and Constance. Evidently, 
 they had paused at the landing on their way 
 down to dinner. 
 
 "You mustn t go to pieces now, dear. You 
 mustn t. You need to keep every ounce of 
 your strength for the triall" 
 
 "But it s the suspense!" And Constance s 
 voice, usually so soft and low, was shrill with 
 tension. "Oh, I can t go down and face peo 
 ple. I have to hold myself in all the time to 
 keep from screaming! It s killing me!" 
 
 "It ll all go the moment you get into the 
 dining-room," Betsy-Barbara promised. 
 "Come, dear. You must eat!" 
 
 The voices drifted on. Rosalie raised her 
 face from her hands. 
 
 "Well, it s one or the other, ain t it?" she
 
 THE PEREZ FAMILY 221 
 
 said to herself. "But my God, life s awful 
 awful!" 
 
 She never faltered again. She forgot that 
 little crisis, as we all forget so many of those 
 momentary crises of the will upon which hang 
 great ultimate decisions. Neither she nor Con 
 stance realized, when all was over, how much 
 depended upon those few words, caught by ac 
 cident through a half -open door. Constance, 
 indeed, never knew; and Rosalie forgot.
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 A CRITICAL MOMENT 
 
 TWO days later, and in the middle of the 
 afternoon, Rosalie was again in Miss Es- 
 trilla s room suffering from incipient "control." 
 Her eyes stared, her limbs twitched. 
 
 "Sorry," said Rosalie, on her entrance, "but 
 I ve got it again an I can t beat it. Do you 
 mind if I lock the door? I wouldn t be dis 
 turbed for a farm don t know what it would 
 do to me!" She plumped down into a chair, 
 giving a yawn which shook her whole body. 
 Gradually she relaxed. With one heaving sigh 
 she settled back. Her eyes closed; she fell as 
 into sleep. And presently she was babbling 
 first in the baritone of Doctor Carver and then 
 in the liquid accents of Laughing-Eyes. 
 
 Let me omit the preliminaries. They dealt 
 only with trivial things such little affairs of 
 the house as occurred to the mind of Rosalie 
 Le Grange, working in flashes under her sleep- 
 
 222
 
 A CRITICAL MOMENT 223 
 
 ing exterior. She had growled and babbled 
 for five minutes before Laughing-Eyes an 
 nounced suddenly : 
 
 "The lady is sick the pretty lady. Spirit 
 wants to talk to the lady. Pretty spirit. I 
 feel like a great big queen was here Vic 
 Vic Victoria." The voice of Laughing- 
 Eyes stopped. This was a device of Rosalie s. 
 She wanted to listen. And the microscopic 
 ally minute thing which she heard satisfied her. 
 Miss Estrilla had been breathing regularly. 
 Now, on the mention of that name, her breath 
 caught. The voice of Rosalie, her whole facial 
 expression, her manner if one can attribute 
 manner to a woman who appears to sleep 
 underwent an abrupt change. The voice deep 
 ened; the lines of the face fell; it was Doctor 
 Carver who spoke. 
 
 "Victoria is not strong," said the voice; "I 
 sense that she brings consolation. She says 
 that things are bad; but they will be better 
 by and by. It is a mother s influence. Mig 
 uel " here Rosalie stopped; and again she 
 noted the irregular breathing from the couch. 
 It was an eternal quarter-minute before she 
 spoke again: this time the voice was a man s,
 
 224 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 but lighter and higher than that of Doctor Car 
 ver ; and it spoke Spanish. 
 
 "I ani mate, hijita mial" it said, and died 
 away. A silence again. "He is gone," said 
 the voice of Doctor Carver. "A spirit wants 
 the young woman who lives below this room " 
 The seance drifted away into a series of imagi 
 nary messages for Miss Harding. But once 
 again Miguel floated into the talk, dropped a 
 word or two of easily-pronounced Spanish, 
 floated out again. Presently, Doctor Carver 
 came no more; the babblings of Laughing- 
 Eyes became disconnected monosyllables, and 
 died out altogether. Rosalie lay as though 
 asleep. 
 
 She lay for five minutes; she lay for ten 
 minutes. "Won t she ever wake me up?" 
 thought Rosalie. 
 
 Miss Estrilla moved now and then; now and 
 then her breathing caught. And suddenly 
 she was not breathing at all. Rosalie steeled 
 herself for the shock of cold water, if that were 
 to be the awakening. The shock came but 
 in another form. 
 
 "I am going to kill you!" said the voice of 
 Miss Estrilla in Spanish; "I am pointing a
 
 A CRITICAL MOMENT 225 
 
 pistol at your head! Come to me at once 
 or I shall fire !" 
 
 Thirty years in the profession which deals 
 with deceits both minute and monstrous, thirty 
 years of emotions simulated, had given Rosalie 
 one great practical talent control of mind, 
 muscle and nerve. It had given her, too, a 
 courage born of self-confidence, of the well- 
 grounded faith that she could master any situa 
 tion. It had modified her instincts; it had 
 changed nature. Her impulse, under sudden 
 shock of surprise, was to continue, naturally 
 and easily, just what she had been doing. 
 That tided her over the moment of crisis. Her 
 eyes remained closed, her color changed not, 
 her breath came as regularly and evenly as 
 before. There succeeded the critical moment 
 when the control of instinct was gone and the 
 less dependable control of reason reasserted 
 itself. That was hardest of all. She must 
 remember to keep her breathing regular, and 
 her limbs composed; above all and this is a 
 feat possible only to an actor of parts or a 
 professional medium to keep the color in her 
 face. She accomplished this by the simple de 
 vice of sinking her chin close against her collar.
 
 226 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 It was easier as the moments passed. Nothing 
 had happened, nor was there any movement 
 on the couch. It became certain that this was 
 a test. Rosalie waited. Her left foot was 
 falling asleep. 
 
 It came as she had expected the second 
 test. Clearly and distinctly, Miss Estrilla 
 said in English: 
 
 "You are a fraud. I am pointing a revolver 
 at your head. Wake and hold up your hands 
 or I will shoot you!" 
 
 Rosalie slumbered on in seeming; and this 
 time it needed no effort of will. But the foot 
 sent a thousand tiny twinkles of pain and dis 
 comfort up her ankle. She was meditating 
 how she might manage a natural awakening, 
 when Miss Estrilla shook her and said in her 
 natural voice: 
 
 "Mrs. Le Grange! Mrs. Le Grange! 
 Wake up!" 
 
 Rosalie came to full consciousness most ar 
 tistically and effectively. 
 
 "What was it dear me, my foot s asleep! 
 Ow!" she said. She rose and hobbled about 
 the room. "Did I stay out long? This just 
 takes the gimp out of me I won t be fit for
 
 A CRITICAL MOMENT 22T 
 
 a thing to-morrow an it s scrub-day, tool 
 What have I been talkin about or did I talk 
 at all? They ve told me that sometimes I 
 never say a word." 
 
 "Oh, a great many things." 
 
 "Well, I must have, I m that tuckered out. 
 Excuse me for askin , but was it about anybody 
 in the house?" 
 
 "I think so." Miss Estrilla paused. 
 "There were a few words for me." 
 
 "Indeed! Well, of course that s natural, 
 you bein right here. Don t set too much store 
 by it, my dear. Take my advice and don t let 
 yourself get to dependin on the spirit. You 
 never can tell how it will act. I remember 
 Mrs. Blossom. She s dead now, but she was 
 the best professional I ever saw. Well, do you 
 know I ve seen her sit with a person an never 
 bring a spirit that person wanted they d all 
 be for a sitter Mrs. Blossom had yesterday. 
 Then again she d bring the sitter s own spirits 
 right away. More often a person had to come 
 to her three or four times before things started. 
 Some sitters draws em, I guess, just like some 
 mediums." 
 
 Miss Estrilla pondered a time upon that,
 
 228 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 while Rosalie made Swedish gymnastic move 
 ments with her sleepy foot. Miss Estrilla 
 twice set her lips to speak before the words 
 came. 
 
 "You did bring something for me," she said ; 
 "just a little but it was something I wanted 
 to know. Do you think you can find more 
 next time, if " 
 
 "Now, my dear!" put in Rosalie, "don t ask 
 me that! I thought you were sensible. If 
 I d thought it would take such a holt on you, 
 guns and pistols wouldn t have drove me into 
 this room with my spells. I can t tell you how 
 hard I ve been tryin to stop this thing, which 
 is bothersome to say the best about it let s 
 unlock the door while I think about it" she 
 crossed the room "I ve old sitters hangin 
 round every week beggin for just one more 
 demonstration, but I m firm. I ve let it come 
 these two or three times just because I couldn t 
 help it. It would be askin a lot." 
 
 "But it would comfort me," replied the in 
 valid, weakly ; and there were tears in her voice. 
 "And, oh, you don t know how I need com 
 fort 1"
 
 A CRITICAL MOMENT 229 
 
 "Poor dear ! I know how it is. You re sick, 
 an I suppose you have your troubles we all 
 have in this world. But when a person s sick, 
 she jest lays an lets it roll up in her, like. 
 Well, now, let s see " Rosalie paused as 
 though considering. "Why don t I want to 
 practise any more? It s the name an not the 
 game that s botherin to me. I tell you what 
 I ll do. I won t try, an I won t force it, but 
 seein this is private-like, I ll stop resistin the 
 influence when it comes over me. An I ll al 
 ways beat it straight here. Perhaps it was sent 
 to do us both good! That s settled. Now 
 can t I do any thin for you?" 
 
 As she swept about the room, setting things 
 to rights, there came a knock at the door. Ro 
 salie was about to open it, when an exclama 
 tion from Miss Estrilla stopped her. 
 
 "Listen," said Miss Estrilla; "if that is my 
 brother, say nothing to him. He is prej 
 udiced." 
 
 "Why, of course not!" replied Rosalie. 
 "An 5 don t you! I m more anxious than you 
 can be to keep this thing shut up. I m the one 
 that s got something to lose."
 
 230 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 It was, in fact, Molly the maid, announcing 
 the doctor. And that visit gave Rosalie excuse 
 to withdraw. 
 
 Rosalie held that night another of her out 
 door conferences with Inspector McGee. 
 
 "Well, I m comin out with it," she an 
 nounced. "I ve got to tell somebody. Every 
 body confesses at least once, which a cop knows 
 better than I do. I guess I ve got your case 
 started, Martin McGee !" 
 
 "Then this fellow Wade" 
 
 "You make me," said Rosalie; "you make 
 me want to shut my mouth an never tell you 
 any thin at all. Wade! A cop can t keep 
 two ideas in his mind at one an the same time, 
 any more n a horse. Martin McGee, you listen 
 an don t you say a word until I m through." 
 With a logical consecutiveness almost surpris 
 ing in Rosalie, she started her case from the be 
 ginning. Tommy North s clue of the diamond 
 ring which Tommy North had dropped and 
 which had set Rosalie on the trail, the discovery 
 that the coverlet on Captain Hanska s bed had 
 been wet with rain from the open window 
 
 But here Inspector McGee broke his tacit 
 pledge, and spoke.
 
 A CRITICAL MOMENT 231 
 
 "I explained that!" he said. "I told you 
 they opened the windows to let in air after 
 they discovered the murder when that Mrs. 
 Moore fainted." 
 
 "Not rememberin that it had stopped rainin 
 when the body was found it had stopped when 
 I came in," replied Rosalie. 
 
 "Had it?" inquired the Inspector. 
 
 "Now who s smart?" crowed Rosalie, and 
 she proceeded with the finding of the little red 
 button on the fire-escape, the discovery that 
 Miss Estrilla had among her possessions a pair 
 of red strapped shoes with a button missing, 
 and the final fact the button matched. . 
 
 Inspector McGee received that dramatic in 
 formation with a long whistle of amazement. 
 
 "That sick woman!" he said. "Gee, and I d 
 thought of examining her. But there didn t 
 seem to be a chance on earth. I d thought 
 more about that brother of hers. But, of 
 course, he d left the house before the quarreling 
 stopped while Captain Hanska was alive 
 and didn t return until after they found the 
 body." He pondered a moment. "But that 
 ain t real evidence yet." 
 
 "You give me a chance," replied Rosalie.
 
 232 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 She pursued her narrative then, setting forth 
 her discovery that Estrilla was an assumed 
 name and the discoveries of Detective Grimaldi 
 about the history of the Perez family in Trini 
 dad. She proceeded then to the seances, and to 
 Miss Estrilla s attempt at frightening her out 
 of control. 
 
 "An say," added Rosalie, "if you don t 
 think that minute or so was about the tightest 
 squeeze I ever had, you miss a guess, that s 
 all. Near broke me in two. I was so tuck 
 ered out holdin on to myself that I feel it yet. 
 I had to pretend that my control had weak 
 ened me." 
 
 "Is that all?" asked McGee. 
 
 "Yes. Ain t it enough?" 
 
 "Well, it s suspicious. But there s no real 
 evidence. Nothing you can convict on. Just 
 because one of her shoe-buttons was found on 
 the fire-escape, and she s living under an as 
 sumed name, and the entrance to the room was 
 through the window, it s no proof that a sick 
 woman came down the fire-escape and killed 
 a big man standing up in front of her. You 
 can t make a jury believe that. Suppose I
 
 A CRITICAL MOMENT 233 
 
 pinch her and her brother, too and give em 
 the Third Degree?" 
 
 "See here, Martin McGee," replied Rosalie, 
 "what have I been takin all this trouble for, 
 spendin my good time to get her to believe 
 I m a medium, if I ain t to be trusted to run 
 this case? You can have your Third Degree 
 afterward when I m through with mine." 
 
 "That s so," replied McGee. "Well, any 
 thing I can do to help?" 
 
 "Yes. How long does it take to get a man 
 to Trinidad? Or is there anybody in Port of 
 Spain that you can use?" 
 
 "I ve had a man there a week. Another 
 case missing burglar." 
 
 "That s good. Very important?" 
 
 "No. I guess he can be spared." 
 
 "Luck s with us if nothin else. This is a 
 three-times winnin . Now you just cable him 
 wait a minute, I ll write the message got 
 a pencil an paper?" 
 
 They were in a side street. A lamp-post 
 threw a shaft of light across the stoop of a 
 vacant house. Rosalie sat herself on the lowest 
 step, braced the note-book which McGee pro-
 
 234 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 duced, and, with many a purse of lip and brow, 
 composed the following message : 
 
 "Drop anything and get full information 
 on the late Miguel Perez, cacao grower of Port 
 of Spain, and his family, especially Juan his 
 son, and a daughter, probably half-sister of 
 Juan, name unknown. Details about life of 
 the family especially wanted and the smaller 
 the better. Learn everything you can about 
 first wife. Suggest pumping old family serv 
 ants. Wire in full as you get the dope." 
 
 "There," concluded Rosalie, "an a lot I m 
 goin to cost New York City for cable tolls." 
 
 McGee laughed as he put the note-book 
 carefully in his inner pocket. 
 
 "There are several jokes on me to-night," 
 he said. "Well, if it turns out that Wade 
 didn t do it, I ll be kinder glad. I ve hated 
 that fellow, and yet I ve kind of come to re 
 spect him, too. Say, this is one case where you 
 can t keep out of court and the papers, ain t 
 it?" 
 
 "Oh, I don t know," replied Rosalie; "maybe 
 I can fix it to slip out and leave you all the 
 credit as usual."
 
 A CRITICAL MOMENT 235 
 
 The dig told. 
 
 "Well, I never asked you to," replied In 
 spector McGee in some confusion. 
 
 "That s right," acknowledged Rosalie, "but 
 tellin you about it once in a while keeps you 
 in the right frame of mind." 
 
 "Say," said Martin McGee, returning to the 
 main subject, "when they put this Estrilla 
 woman through if she s the one I can see 
 the papers. Woman against woman. Ex- 
 medium sends victim to the 
 
 "Don t say that!" exclaimed Rosalie. "For 
 God s sake, don t !" She had been walking el 
 bow to elbow, leaning a little upon him. Now 
 she drew away. And much more that Martin 
 McGee had intended to say, remained unsaid 
 that evening.
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 THE FINAL, TEST 
 
 COULD we have sat with Rosalie Le 
 Grange through thirty years of her "me- 
 diumship," we would have found in all her 
 assaults on the secrets of the human heart a 
 certain sameness. There are, after all, only a 
 few main roads to the intelligence of man 
 and woman. Rosalie traveled these roads 
 again and again, varying the method only 
 by those infinitesimal shades which the 
 artist knows. Her approach to Senorita 
 Perez known so far in these pages as Miss 
 Estrilla differed in no essential from her ap 
 proach to a thousand love-lorn shop-girls, trou 
 bled mothers, perplexed business men, during 
 her thirty years in her old trade. She simply 
 refined her methods a little for Miss Estrilla, as 
 she had done always for her "first-class cus 
 tomers." 
 
 First, there was the approach; a mist of 
 236
 
 THE FINAL TEST 237 
 
 hocus-pocus illuminated here and there with 
 the glint of a secret surprising fact which 
 the medium "could not possibly know." This 
 was a period wherein the dupe was always un 
 convinced but fascinated. Some professed to 
 be amused ; and they showed it by giggles which 
 died prematurely into long silences. Some 
 pretended to be unconvinced; but they proved 
 their dawning conviction by brutal denials. 
 Some put tests to her, obvious and subtle, ac 
 cording to their natures. None had ever at 
 tempted so daring and so clever a test as Miss 
 Estrilla, with her pretended revolver; and this 
 was a bit of evidence, a guide-post which would 
 have made slender appeal to Inspector Martin 
 McGee or to any jury that ever sat in judg 
 ment. Yet to Rosalie, skilled in weighing fac 
 tors which no male policeman would ever per 
 ceive, adept at reading whole volumes of fact 
 from the incidental drooping of a lip or lifting 
 of an eyebrow, this was the most pertinent bit 
 of evidence she had yet discovered. For those 
 who had most to conceal, most to lose by the 
 revelation of their souls to a blackmailer or a 
 spy, were the very people who put such tests 
 to her; and the harder the test, she had always
 
 238 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 found, the deeper and blacker the ultimate se 
 cret. 
 
 Could we have followed Rosalie through all 
 those years, we should have discovered another 
 most illuminating fact this one a light on that 
 contradictory and complex character. It was 
 her impatience, as time wore on, with certain 
 blasphemies on human affection which she had 
 committed lightly during the period of her be 
 ginnings. It is a dreadful thing to barter with 
 the yearnings of parents for departed children, 
 of bereaved wives for the husband gone before 
 with man s deepest and highest and all for 
 the paltry fee of a discredited profession. In 
 her early period, Rosalie had committed this sin 
 of the heart lightly, without inner blemish. 
 Then as always in youth her morals were 
 the morals of environment. The thoughts of 
 youth are not voices, but echoes. 
 
 When the time came for her to think on her 
 own account, when, out of her infinitely diverse 
 characteristics she began to form character, 
 Rosalie Le Grange salved her conscience with 
 the reflection that she was, after all, doing these 
 people good; that she never hunted, as others 
 did, for big game; that she took only a legiti-
 
 THE FINAL TEST 239 
 
 mate fee and gave in return consolation and 
 good advice. That served her into her reflect 
 ive forties, the period when we have walked 
 over the summit of life, when in lonely dawns 
 and wakeful midnights the thought of man s ul 
 timate end pierces all our meditations on the 
 future. In those somber lights, things become 
 plain to which the brilliant light of full active 
 days blinds us. And Rosalie, adept at read 
 ing other hearts, had read her own. 
 
 For there was a strong streak of Scotch in 
 Rosalie. From the race of warlocks and 
 dreamers on the edge of the infinite had she 
 got her taste and talent for mysticism, her gen 
 uine clairvoyance whatever that may be. 
 From it had she taken her love for mystery, 
 her deep hidden leaning toward romance. 
 From it, finally, had she taken a conscience 
 which, like a tree wind-planted in the cleft of 
 a rock, grew and matured to bear fruit in spite 
 of an adverse environment. In these forties, 
 conscience mastered her. She could no longer 
 traffic with grief to the shame of her own 
 heart. In her revelation to Martin McGee she 
 had concealed one fact, as it was her habit to 
 conceal the very springs and sources of her ac-
 
 240 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 tions. It was that she had left the business 
 of professional "mediumship," when a turn in 
 her romantic life brought fortune, for con 
 science and conscience alone. The hidden ex 
 citement and romance of the profession, the 
 contact with other and strange minds, the op 
 portunity for busybodying, for guiding des 
 tinies all these appealed. But she could no 
 longer endure the treacheries and sacrileges of 
 her own method. 
 
 Here, now, when she had thought to put 
 it all behind her, she was embarked on the most 
 treacherous adventure of all. She was play 
 ing with human affection, not for the ultimate 
 comfort and consolation of the dupe, but for 
 an end which she dreaded to think on. She 
 had fought that out, it is true, on the afternoon 
 when she heard through the half-open door 
 Constance s weak appeal to Betsy-Barbara. 
 She faltered no more except in her lonely 
 communings with herself but her very dis 
 taste for the work drove her to hasten it, as 
 one drinks a noxious draught at a single mouth 
 ful. Under the pretense that her obsession was 
 driving her, that she had bottled it up too long, 
 that "it just had to come out of her," Rosalie
 
 THE FINAL TEST 241 
 
 Le Grange multiplied the seances with Miss 
 Estrilla to the point of danger and incau- 
 tion. 
 
 On the second day after the session in which 
 Miss Estrilla had tried the test of the fictitious 
 revolver, she was back again. This time hav 
 ing assurance that this was the true line of at 
 tack she brought both Victoria and Miguel. 
 Victoria, according to Doctor Carver, was the 
 stronger; she spoke much, though vaguely. 
 Miguel dropped only a few phrases now 
 Spanish, now English. During this session, 
 Miss Estrilla never moved nor spoke. But 
 Rosalie, daring a look at her through her long 
 lashes, perceived that her attitude was tense, 
 rapt. 
 
 In such long preliminary passages with a 
 difficult sitter (Rosalie s experience had taught 
 her) there is a certain moment when the dupe 
 crosses the line between prudence and absolute 
 credulity. In a quiet self-contained person 
 like Miss Estrilla, this moment comes, gener 
 ally, with the first question. After that, the 
 course is as easy as lying. The dupe, once the 
 defenses are broken, is eager to believe. -Where 
 before the skeptical mind turned every new and
 
 242 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 irregular fact to the disadvantage of the me 
 dium, now the eager mind turns every fact to 
 her advantage. "Every sheet s a ghost," Ro 
 salie had remarked time and again. "Hardest 
 thing is hold em back. There s nothin they 
 can t swallow." In this, her third seance, Ro 
 salie was proceeding as cautiously as an ele 
 phant on a bridge, waiting for that first and 
 vital question. 
 
 It came at the fourth sitting. 
 
 By this time, Rosalie had begun to receive 
 cable reports from Port of Spain. The detec 
 tive, it appeared, was a policeman of singu 
 lar fidelity or of singular acumen. Taking lit 
 erally the order about "little details," he had 
 filed one of the most curious despatches in the 
 annals of the New York Police Department. 
 It glittered with gems for Rosalie Le Grange. 
 Especially was it strong in facts concerning 
 Miss Estrilla s relations with her father. Their 
 rides together when she was a little girl and 
 the family was conspicuous on the island, the 
 circumstance of an accident to one of the horses, 
 even pet names and small coin of domestic 
 intercourse all this he set forth fully. Be 
 yond doubt, he had found the "old family serv-
 
 THE FINAL TEST 243 
 
 ant" mentioned in the telegram of instruction 
 and milked him dry. 
 
 So at this fourth seance Rosalie brought not 
 Miguel that were too great a strain on her 
 Spanish but Victoria introduced her, as 
 usual, with vague sentences, growing always 
 more definite, and crystallizing finally into the 
 vital startling fact. Rosalie was speaking 
 freely now, her pose that of a dead trance. 
 
 "Do you remember," she asked, "the time 
 they carried you home, as though you were 
 dead, from the stable, and you revived and 
 spoke to me when they brought you in the 
 door? Do you remember Margy dear?" 
 The telegram from Detective Hawley had in 
 formed Rosalie that the baptismal name of 
 Miss Estrilla or Miss Perez was Margarita; 
 and that her mother used the name in its Eng 
 lish form and her father in Spanish. 
 
 "Do you remember, Margy dear?" repeated 
 the voice of the "spirit" through the entranced 
 lips of Rosalie Le Grange. 
 
 "Yes," said Miss Estrilla, so suddenly that 
 it nearly shook Rosalie out of trance. "I re 
 member, mother dear. What was his name 
 that horse?"
 
 244 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 ("Still a little skeptical; but it s the last 
 gasp. I ll fix her right now. Lucky I ve got 
 it!" said the mind of Rosalie Le Grange work 
 ing rapidly behind her mask. ) 
 
 "We had Billy and but it wasn t he it 
 was that black horse Vixen which you would 
 ride against my wishes!" said the voice. Ro 
 salie heard Miss Estrilla heave a long sigh; 
 heard her settle herself against the pillows as 
 though quite overborne by emotion. 
 
 But Rosalie did not proceed directly along 
 the road of treacheries which she was traveling. 
 Victoria went away with the capricious sud 
 denness of all Rosalie s spirit friends. The 
 voice of Laughing-Eyes, the child control, 
 burst in. Upon Miss Estrilla, Rosalie used 
 Laughing-Eyes sparingly. With an ignorant 
 and overimpressionable sitter she was an in 
 valuable feature, this Laughing-Eyes. To a 
 person of greater discernment, the child imper 
 sonation was likely to be ridiculous. Rosalie 
 usually employed her, therefore, only to fill 
 in the chinks, to occupy the time while she 
 was thinking. For Rosalie, after thirty years 
 of experience, produced Laughing-Eyes with
 
 THE FINAL TEST 245 
 
 her left hand, so to speak. The child patter 
 came by instinct; it required no effort of the 
 conscious will; her mind was free to think and 
 plan. Now, however, she wove Laughing- 
 Eyes into her web. 
 
 "Lady is gone!" said Laughing-Eyes. 
 "Pretty lady! Another spirit oh I see 
 pretty things! They shine oh go away. 
 Come back! No, he will not stay," she paused 
 here. 
 
 And now Miss Estrilla spoke again, and in 
 such a tone that Rosalie knew she might hurry 
 to her climax. 
 
 "Can t you bring him back, Laughing- 
 Eyes?" she said. "Oh, please bring him back. 
 Tell him, oh, tell him that I am not angry!" 
 A dry sob shook the silences of the room. 
 
 "No. He is afraid. And he is weak in 
 spirit!" babbled Laughing-Eyes. "Maybe he 
 will come again maybe!" And Laughing- 
 Eyes giggled and babbled of Miguel and Vic 
 toria and a dozen spirits impertinent to Miss 
 Estrilla. Yet always in her babblings she 
 seemed to hold the atmosphere of truth; she 
 referred casually and in remote ways to a dozen
 
 246 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 facts about Miss Estrilla s family and her past. 
 Presently her voice died away ; and Rosalie lay 
 silent and impassive, waiting for Miss Estrilla 
 to wake her.
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 JOHN TALKS 
 
 IN the following seance held the next after 
 noon at the special and plaintive request 
 of Miss Estrilla Rosalie Le Grange reached 
 at last the very kernel of the matter. 
 
 She brought John." 
 
 She had prepared, by a special and sub 
 sidiary line of play, for this vital move. She 
 had been cultivating Constance Hanska. 
 With arts all her own, Rosalie broke through 
 the reserves of that distressed widow. From 
 discussion of the murder, Rosalie led her on to 
 details of her married life. From that, she 
 lured Constance into deeper confidences, which 
 involved the personal peculiarities of the late 
 Captain Hanska, such as his way of speaking, 
 the quality of his voice, and his methods with 
 women. When Rosalie settled down to the 
 fifth seance, she had in her mind a picture of 
 
 247
 
 248 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 John H. Hanska which was good enough for 
 any of her purposes. 
 
 The preliminaries were over; Laughing- 
 Eyes had gone her babbling way back to the 
 land of spirit; Doctor Carver held control. 
 
 "A spirit has been trying to communicate, 
 but he is a new spirit and not yet strong. He 
 says that the lady s sickness is not of the body. 
 It is of the mind. He also is not happy yet. 
 John was his name on the flesh-plane it is 
 hard we over here must make an effort it 
 is a strain on us as on the medium I get an 
 H. In the ensuing silence, Miss Estrilla 
 gave one hard sob. 
 
 The silence lasted for half a minute. Rosa 
 lie strained and struggled as though a tumult 
 were going on within. Then came a man s 
 voice, higher and softer than that of Doctor 
 Carver. 
 
 "I am John, Margaret. I can not stay long. 
 I am not strong they tell us over here that 
 we must forgive even as we are forgiven. 
 But I will come again 
 
 "Oh, John I am trying to forgive oh, 
 do you understand wait " gasped Miss Es 
 trilla.
 
 JOHN TALKS 249 
 
 But John spoke no more. 
 
 "He may grow stronger after a time," said 
 the voice of Doctor Carver, "if this poor earth 
 vessel through which we speak does not break." 
 So he finished the pertinent part of that 
 session. 
 
 The seances were coming every day now. 
 Miss Estrilia wished it; and Rosalie granted 
 her request with an appearance of indulgent 
 reluctance. The next day, John intruded 
 again. This time, it appeared, he had grown 
 strong enough to speak consecutively. 
 
 "I have not full power yet. But it is com 
 ing. I grow stronger. But the shock iv my 
 breast I feel it." That was something of a 
 venture. Rosalie waited to see what reply it 
 would draw. 
 
 The reply came, quick and puzzling : 
 
 "Did that come first then? Oh, surely you 
 didn t feel that?" asked Miss Estrilla as though 
 in a fever of anxiety. 
 
 Rosalie, thinking like lightning, felt herself 
 for the moment at her wits ends. Upon the 
 answer to that cryptic question everything 
 might depend. It were best, she concluded, to 
 humor Miss Estrilla; to give her what she
 
 250 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 wanted, but to make the wording vague. She 
 let her body heave, as though John were re 
 taining his control with difficulty. 
 
 "No," said the voice, "that was not first. It 
 had come already. But, somehow I knew." 
 
 "Oh, thank God!" cried Miss Estrilla. 
 
 John departed on this. Doctor Carver and 
 Laughing-Eyes spread clouds of mist, intel 
 lectual but rosy. They went; Rosalie entered 
 that apparent sleep with which she concluded 
 her "trances." As she lay there, with nothing 
 to do but think, this new perplexity revolved 
 itself in her mind. What meant that sudden 
 question "Did that come first?" The trail 
 was leading into wildernesses of which she had 
 never dreamed. 
 
 Rosalie held three more seances with Miss 
 Estrilla before she reached the final vital one 
 to which all her diplomacies had been leading. 
 Let me omit the lumber and packing, as yawns, 
 mumblings, long passages of sleep, solemn ora 
 tions of Doctor Carver, babblings of Laugh 
 ing-Eyes, revelations concerning the family 
 life of Miguel and Victoria. Let me but re 
 port those little dialogues between John in 
 the spirit, and Miss Estrilla (or Margarita
 
 JOHN TALKS 251 
 
 Perez) in the flesh, to which this hocus-pocus 
 was only an approach. 
 
 
 
 John is speaking through the lips of Rosa 
 lie Le Grange ; and Miss Estrilla is answering. 
 
 "I am stronger now. The flesh influence is 
 not yet gone from me. There was much on 
 my soul. I find it hard to forgive. And I 
 know I must little lady." Rosalie had 
 learned from Constance that "little lady" was 
 Captain Hanska s pet name for woman in ten 
 der relations, and she let it out as a venture. 
 
 "Oh, John! But consider how much I have 
 to forgive. Ah, did you ever love me? You 
 never answered my letters." 
 
 "I loved you perhaps too much. Over here, 
 we can not lie. I was carried away and I 
 was married " 
 
 "Yes. Every one knows that now. You 
 deceived me. It is harder for me to forgive 
 that than the other thing." 
 
 "Yes but I loved you too much to risk 
 telling you." 
 
 "Was that why you kept the jewels, then?" 
 A hard attack came into Miss Estrilla s tone. 
 It was more than a question; there was irony
 
 252 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 in it. Rosalie thought rapidly. That dia 
 mond buckle on the stair-case "the jewels" 
 here was a startling new correlation of facts. 
 She must venture no further; she must have 
 time to imagine and to plan. 
 
 "I can not tell you now," said the voice of 
 John. "I am growing weak I sinned " 
 
 "Oh, he s gone away!" broke in the voice of 
 Laughing-Eyes. 
 
 .. 
 
 Another seance. John is speaking, Miss 
 Estrilla answering. 
 
 "Ah, I really love you. But I find it hard 
 to forgive." 
 
 "Don t you understand, John, that it wasn t 
 revenge? It was duty." 
 
 "I know. There is much that I do not un 
 derstand, but I do understand that. In the 
 flesh, I was always attracted by the glitter of 
 jewels " This was a lead into territory only 
 partially explored. And the road opened. 
 
 "I think there were two parts of you, John. 
 But, oh, the better part loved me, did it not?" 
 
 "Yes, loved you truly, little lady." 
 
 "John, if you had stolen them outright but 
 to use my love!"
 
 JOHN TALKS 253 
 
 "I am going. I am not strong enough yet 
 to endure reproach " 
 
 "Oh, I will not reproach you again. You 
 must forgive. You know how little you have 
 to forgive. Wait, John, wait!" 
 
 *** 
 
 John is speaking again: Miss Estrilla re 
 plies. 
 
 "They give me new strength every day. 
 But this poor ignorant woman is weakening. 
 Why did you try to get them as you did?" 
 
 "What was I to do when I found I had no 
 claim under the law ? What was I to do after 
 you wrote me that letter?" 
 
 "That happened before I passed out. I 
 could not see you then. And I have not seen 
 any one clearly. I am not like the better 
 spirits. My soul was not good when it left the 
 flesh. But I think you came to New York 
 just to get the jewels." 
 
 (This was a venture on Rosalie s part; still 
 there were ways of retrieving the mistake if her 
 guess was wrong. ) 
 
 "Yes. It was my plan, not Juan s. I have 
 been more foolish than he. Every day I spent 
 in the room above you I was afraid you would
 
 254 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 discover me. Yet when I thought of you down 
 there I loved you still! But my eyes were 
 really sick. It was because I cried so much 
 but I promised not to reproach you." 
 
 "Little lady I was bad, but I loved you. 
 I think if I had seen you, I would have re 
 stored them. * 
 
 "Oh, John ! That is hardest of all ! If you 
 had you might have died but we would have 
 been saved this and your conscience would 
 have been right. And John, I can not die and 
 [join you now I dare not because it would 
 be wrong and because of Juan!" 
 
 Rosalie noted how the name of Juan came 
 in again. For caution, she must veer away 
 from that lead at present. 
 
 "I think that I felt you near me at times." 
 
 "Did you, John? Did you know I was in 
 your room once when you were asleep? Do 
 you remember how you slept through the fire 
 at home ? That was why I dared. There was 
 light on your face. I wanted to kiss it." 
 
 "If you had and wakened me!" 
 
 "If I had if I only had!" Miss Estrilla 
 wept bitterly ; the voice of John answered with 
 caressing reassuring words.
 
 JOHN TALKS 255 
 
 "But John, why can you not forgive ? Don t 
 you know all?" continued Miss Estrilla when 
 she had control of her voice. 
 
 "Not all. We do not wake to the spirit at 
 once. After the shock, we are in a mist for a 
 time. I knew nothing until I was looking 
 down on the people who surrounded my body 
 a long time after. Then there were mists 
 and dark spots. I saw one of the jewels on 
 the floor beside the door. I could not see you 
 nor Juan. I must know this is hard I 
 am growing weak " 
 
 "Wait, John, wait!" cried Miss Estrilla, for 
 the first time losing control of herself. "John! 
 Come back! You must come back! I ve 
 something to tell you that s killing me ! John, 
 John, you must know that he didn t mean to 
 do it!" 
 
 With all the will-power that she had, Rosa 
 lie kept herself from the slightest movement 
 when she heard that simple startling pronoun, 
 "he." It was time to close this seance. She 
 summoned Laughing*Eyes, who bade Miss 
 Estrilla good-by in a weak failing tone; she 
 settled into her concluding "trance."
 
 256 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 In the last two sittings, Rosalie had been 
 awakening from trance of her own accord. 
 Now, she slumbered on for two or three minutes 
 before she let her eyes flutter open; her face 
 resume expression. 
 
 Miss Estrilla had controlled her weeping. 
 To Rosalie s cheerful, "Well, was I out long?" 
 she returned no answer. Rosalie looked at her 
 sharply. 
 
 "I m afraid you shouldn t do this any more 
 in your state of nerves," she said. "Only 
 reason I ve kept it up was because it seemed 
 to be doin you so much good. But to-day you 
 look all tuckered out. An me a wet rag is 
 cast-iron beside my feelin this minute. Tell 
 me was it long after I stopped talking before 
 I woke up?" 
 
 "No. It was shorter than ever before." 
 
 "M-hm! Well, those that know me better 
 than I know myself have watched my trances. 
 They say that when I wake up soon after the 
 spirits go, it means just one thing it seems 
 I m runnin down. This mediumship is like 
 a bucket in the rain. You pour out the water, 
 an you ve got to wait a while for the bucket 
 to fill again. When I begun sittin with you,
 
 JOHN TALKS 257 
 
 I had more in me than I thought. Fact is, I d 
 just begun to overflow, which is why I couldn t 
 stop that first trance from comin . But now 
 it s about spilled out. Trance ain t a relief any 
 longer. It s been a strain on me for three sit- 
 tin s, an now that it s beginnin to tell on you, 
 we d both better stop it, I guess." 
 
 But Miss Estrilla raised the eye-shade; and 
 Rosalie saw that she was weeping again. "Oh, 
 just another!" she pleaded. "Couldn t you, 
 Mrs. Le Grange? There was something more 
 I wanted to ask. Something," she went on, 
 "which would seem trivial to you. But to 
 me" 
 
 "Now, my dear," interrupted Rosalie, "I 
 don t want to know anything about what the 
 spirits are sayin to you. That s your secret." 
 She appeared to hesitate over a decision. 
 "Now, I ll teU you what I ll do. I ve prob 
 ably got jest about one more sittin in me, an 
 then I ll be through. Sometimes, by sort of 
 reachin out toward the spirit on the night be 
 fore I can t make you understand, I guess, 
 you not bein mediumistic I can make the 
 trance stronger bring more, they tell me. I ll 
 git in touch with the spirit to-night, an I ll set
 
 258 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 with you to-morrow for the last time this spell. 
 Then I must quit. I m keepin a boardin - 
 house, not practisin professional." 
 
 "I m very grateful," said Miss Estrilla, 
 "more grateful than you can ever understand." 
 
 "I know you are. That s why I m doin 
 this, I suppose," said Rosalie. "There ain t 
 any too much gratitude in this world. 
 
 "Why, I feel as weak as water an I must 
 look after the ironin , too," she added as she 
 moved listlessly toward the door.
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 A STROKE OF LUCK 
 
 WE come now to the most crowded and 
 significant day in all the crowded life of 
 Rosalie Le Grange,, When she told of it after 
 ward to the only person who ever enjoyed her 
 full confidence, she gave but a narrative of 
 flashes and snatches a pertinent fact, out of 
 its context, at one session, a state of emotion at 
 another. Rosalie was logical and consecutive 
 only when the long slow road of reason would 
 serve her purpose better than the short cut of 
 intuition. But, indeed, there is in this world 
 hardly a mind so logical and consecutive, so 
 cool and precise, as to be equipped for follow 
 ing closely and recording accurately a course 
 such as Rosalie followed that day. Can you 
 remember exactly what happened, all details 
 in order, on the night when you found the bur 
 glar in your room, the day when you were 
 injured in the train wreck? Multiply such 
 
 259
 
 260 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 dramatic incident on dramatic incident, such 
 emotional crisis on emotional crisis and small 
 wonder that Rosalie could never weave a con 
 secutive narrative. 
 
 We begin, indeed, with Rosalie Le Grange 
 out of the stage picture. We are in the office 
 of the Thomas W. North Advertising Agency 
 in lower Fifth Avenue. Tommy North sits 
 at a cheap but neat desk, brand-new like all the 
 furnishings of that little old office. He is 
 laboring for an accurate and arresting head 
 line to proclaim the safety, and yet the deadli- 
 ness, of a new automatic revolver. At the 
 typewriter desk in the corner sits Betsy-Bar 
 bara Lane, inexpertly tapping the keys with 
 two ringers of her right hand and one of her 
 left. And as Betsy-Barbara smiles trium 
 phantly over this fair line, frowns at that foul 
 one, purses her lips over the other hard com 
 bination, her radiance fills and illuminates 
 the Thomas W. North Advertising Agency. 
 
 From inception to interior furnishings, it is 
 all Betsy-Barbara. Hers was the choice and 
 placing of the green Mission furniture. Hers 
 was the selection of the pictures, their arrange 
 ment in relation to the wall spaces. That it
 
 A STROKE OF LUCK 261 
 
 might be a pleasant place for work, she picked 
 out prints of her favorite pictures the Coun 
 tess Potolka, the Baby Stuart and the Duchess 
 of Devonshire. To give it a business air, she 
 added a framed photograph of the Union Sta 
 tion in St. Louis. Further, Betsy-Barbara 
 found the most spectacular specimens of ad 
 vertising design executed by Thomas W. 
 North, set them in passe-partouts with her own 
 hands, and hung them just where they would 
 invite the eye and confidence of customers. 
 She remembered also the soul needs of Mr. 
 Thomas W. North himself. In the interstices 
 of the decorations she placed such mottoes as 
 she deemed best for him, as "Do it Now"; 
 "Industry is Happiness"; and, most significant 
 of all to one who understood the reason for the 
 Thomas W. North Agency, "It s What You 
 Do After Business Hours That Gives You 
 Nervous Prostration." Finally, to all these 
 decorations she had added more and more fre 
 quently of late her own illumined self. 
 
 For life, what time she was not busy with 
 the solace of Constance, hung heavy nowadays 
 on the capable hands of Betsy-Barbara. Just 
 when she realized that what she needed was
 
 262 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 work^ she found that the correspondence of the 
 Thomas W. North Agency was getting greater 
 than Tommy himself could handle. She an 
 nounced at once her intention of learning the 
 typewriter and doing that work herself all 
 for the good of the enterprise. To this pro 
 posal, Tommy entered a protest of conscience; 
 but the thought that he would see Betsy-Bar 
 bara in office hours as well as out rendered it 
 very feeble. So Betsy-Barbara fell to work 
 on the second-hand typewriter; and she had 
 so far progressed that she could write a pass 
 ably good business letter in four attempts and 
 a morning s time. 
 
 On this scene of brisk business activity sud 
 denly entered Rosalie Le Grange. As she 
 stepped into the door, she was large-eyed, seri 
 ous, a-quiver with inner intensity. She broke 
 into a smile, however, as she surveyed the 
 Thomas W. North Advertising Agency at 
 work. Both Tommy and his amateur stenog 
 rapher had heard the steps ; but each, as people 
 will do when they are intent, failed to look up 
 from his uncompleted line until startled by 
 Rosalie s : 
 
 "My ! Such a pair of little workers !"
 
 A STROKE OF LUCK 263 
 
 Tommy grinned. 
 
 "Ah, a customer!" he said; "business bad 
 at the boarding-house? Anything I can do to 
 advertise you? I recommend our A A Cam 
 paign cheap and fetching for establishments 
 of your class. How s this for a line: Our 
 eggs straight from the hen our coffee grew on 
 a vine our boarders stay till they die. 
 
 "No, thank you," replied Rosalie, dimpling 
 upon him. And then, with the air of one who 
 has no time to waste in airy persiflage, "I m 
 here on business, though. Mr. North, I want 
 to borrow the services of your stenographer 
 for a day." 
 
 "Me?" inquired Betsy-Barbara. 
 
 "You," replied Rosalie Le Grange. She 
 turned back to Tommy North then; and the 
 flash of her dimples disarmed any possible re 
 sentment. 
 
 "Mr. North, haven t you got five or ten 
 minutes of business somewhere else? Like 
 buying your day s cigars or something ? When 
 two ladies want to talk something over alone, 
 they hate to talk in the hall." 
 
 "Oh, certainly," replied Tommy North, ris 
 ing and reaching for his coat.
 
 264 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 "It ain t every young boarder," said Rosalie 
 Le Grange, "who is intelligent enough to let 
 his landlady boss him. Now you be back in 
 just ten minutes by the clock, that s an obedient 
 boy." 
 
 Tommy cast one look at Betsy-Barbara as 
 he went out of the door; and Betsy-Barbara 
 smiled as though to reassure him. 
 
 Rosalie was coming now to the end of her 
 operations. She had reached the point where 
 one may relax caution a little when speed and 
 despatch are more necessary than concealment. 
 So she proceeded to the heart of the matter 
 without any of her customary circumlocution. 
 
 "Betsy-Barbara Lane," she said, "I believe 
 you d go for a friend to the place we ain t 
 supposed to mention, except in church. 
 Wouldn t you?" 
 
 "I think I d do almost anything for you, 
 Mrs. Le Grange," said Betsy-Barbara, smiling 
 warmly. 
 
 "That s a pretty thing to say. an I hope you 
 mean it," replied Rosalie. "But I ain t askin 
 for myself. I m askin for Mrs. Hanska." 
 
 "What has happened?" asked Betsy-Bar-
 
 A STROKE OF LUCK 265 
 
 bara, her color departing with a rush. "Has 
 Constance " 
 
 "Constance is perfectly all right," reassured 
 Rosalie. "She was trvin to read poor thing 
 when I left her fifteen minutes ago. But 
 I ve got my answer, you would." 
 
 "I think I would give my life if it would 
 help now," said Betsy-Barbara. 
 
 "What I m askin then," continued Rosalie 
 Le Grange, "may seem only a little thing. 
 But it s important. I can t tell you how im 
 portant. It may save him you know, Mr. 
 Wade if you play your cards right." 
 
 Betsy-Barbara was on her feet now. 
 
 "What is it? Quick!" she asked. 
 
 "Not beatin about the bush," replied Rosa 
 lie Le Grange, "I want you to spend the day 
 flirtin perfectly outrageous with Mr. Estrilla." 
 
 In spite of herself, Betsy-Barbara let her 
 pink blond coloring suffuse her cheeks. But 
 the color flowed back as her mind leaped from 
 circumstance to circumstance and rested on a 
 suspicion. 
 
 "What has he " she said under her breath, 
 "what has he to do with the Hanska case?"
 
 266 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 "Nothin much himself," said Rosalie, in 
 differently, "but a great deal to do with solvin 
 it. An it s important that he should be de 
 livered at just the right time as a kind of wit 
 ness." 
 
 A new idea widened Betsy-Barbara s eyes 
 and made soft and wondering the little mouth 
 of her. 
 
 "And what have you?" she whispered. 
 "Have you all this time and I never sus 
 pected!" 
 
 "Now don t go cuttin corners an guessin ," 
 said Rosalie Le Grange. "I ve been doin my 
 part. Don t ask me any more, please. I m 
 just bustin to tell. I m an old fool with my 
 tongue, an if I spring the littlest leak in a 
 secret it all comes tumblin out. Remember 
 what I ve told you. First, you can help save 
 Mr. Wade as nobody else can. Next, don t 
 ask any questions. An Betsy-Barbara Lane, 
 now I m gettin solemn. I want you to hold 
 up your right hand an swear somethin on 
 your honor that you won t tell anybody any 
 body about this until I let you." 
 
 But now the shade of a suspicion flashed 
 across Betsy-Barbara s face. Rosalie caught
 
 A STROKE OF LUCK 267 
 
 it and formed her answer mentally before her 
 pretty juror spoke. 
 
 "Suppose," said Betsy-Barbara "I beg 
 your pardon, Mrs. Le Grange, but one must 
 watch everything in a time like this suppose 
 you were working for the other side?" 
 
 "In case you ever found that out," said Rosa 
 lie, "your oath is all off. Goodness me !" and 
 now her emotion was real "do I look like a 
 traitor or anything of that sort? Haven t I 
 helped Mrs. Hanska every way I could? 
 You re a woman, Betsy-Barbara, an you know 
 me by this time. Am I that kind?" 
 
 "No," replied Betsy-Barbara. "You are 
 not." And with an air of pretty solemnity, 
 she swore it. 
 
 "If I was a man," said Rosalie Le Grange, 
 "I could just eat you up when you look that 
 way. Now we re goin straight to business. 
 It is a quarter of ten. Has Mrs. Hanska any 
 date to-day?" 
 
 "She was going to her lawyer s at eleven 
 o clock." 
 
 "Let her do that; but first you re to see her 
 and tell her that she mustn t come home after 
 wards. Let her go anywhere except home.
 
 268 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 An after you ve done what I want you to do, 
 you ll meet her somewhere an take her to din 
 ner at at the Hotel Hamblen. That s a re 
 spectable out-of-the-way place. Got that?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Then after you ve seen Mrs. Hanska, you ll 
 rest a while. And at two-thirty, sharp, you re 
 to be waiting by the Carlisle Trust Building. 
 It s got only one entrance, which is lucky. 
 And you can hardly miss." 
 
 "For him?" 
 
 "For Mr. Estrilla. This is no time to make 
 any bones of any thin . He s crazy over you. 
 He has an engagement there for two-thirty. 
 Let him go in. He probably won t stay more 
 than fifteen minutes. You re to meet him at 
 the front of the elevator. You re to en 
 courage him you know. If he asks you to 
 take a walk, which he probably will, you ac 
 cept, and start him toward the park. This is 
 the point. At five o clock sharp, you re to 
 have him takin tea with you in the Park Casino 
 you know where that is, don t you? An 
 you re not to leave until half past five. Prob 
 ably I ll be there long before that your job 
 you understand is to deliver him to me that s
 
 A STROKE OF LUCK 269 
 
 what all this is for, mostly. Then you re to 
 meet Constance Mrs. Hanska as I told you. 
 Wait a minute " Rosalie paused, frozen im 
 mobile on the birth of a new thought "have 
 her pack a suit case and take it with her. You 
 two register at the Hotel Hamblen an stay 
 there to-night stay right there until you hear 
 from me. Got all that ? Well, repeat it after 
 me." 
 
 Betsy-Barbara repeated it slowly. 
 
 "But how can I get him to tea if he doesn t 
 ask me?" she objected. 
 
 "Where I was raised, a young woman passin 
 a soda fountain with a young man, never went 
 thirsty unless she wanted to. Get him in if 
 you have to invite him yourself. I know you, 
 Betsy-Barbara. But don t you be yourself 
 to-day. Let him make love as hard as he wants 
 just this once." 
 
 The door rattled ; Tommy North was back. 
 
 "Mr. North," said Rosalie, "I m borrowin 
 your office help for the day. We want you to 
 do somethin for us. You don t understand 
 now, but you will. Don t you go near my 
 house until to-morrow you sleep out to-night 
 an breakfast out to-morrow. I can give you
 
 270 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 a rebate if you demand it," she pursued, dim 
 pling on him. 
 
 "All right, take it out of that first week s 
 board you stung me so hard for," laughed 
 Tommy North. Then his eyes sought Betsy- 
 Barbara s with a troubled look. "What s the 
 answer?" he asked. 
 
 "There s no answer," said Rosalie Le 
 Grange; "not just at present. Except you ll 
 be glad you did it an I ll explain some day 
 myself. Go where you want to-night. Only 
 don t get drunk." 
 
 "Oh, he won t do that, of course!" put in 
 Betsy-Barbara. 
 
 Which defensive assurance quite restored the 
 spirits of Tommy North, and the smile came 
 back to his face. 
 
 "But promise us one thing you will never 
 say a word to anybody about this," put in 
 Rosalie. 
 
 "I promise," said Tommy, as solemnly as he 
 could, considering that his heart danced. She 
 had taken up the cudgels for him ! 
 
 Out in the hall Rosalie remarked : 
 
 "You can trust quite a lot of people with a
 
 A STROKE OF LUCK 271 
 
 secret if you pick the right ones. Now we must 
 be gettin on." 
 
 But Betsy-Barbara s curiosity made one fi 
 nal struggle. 
 
 "Oh, Mrs. Le Grange, is Mr. Wade to be 
 proved innocent ? May I tell Constance that ?" 
 
 "You can tell her nothing understand? 
 Just nothing. But probably he is, just the 
 same!" 
 
 "When will we know?" asked Betsy-Bar 
 bara. 
 
 "You may know somethin to-morrow if 
 you re a good girl an do just as I ve told you." 
 
 "From the morning papers?" 
 
 "Well, I certainly hope not!" said Rosalie 
 Le Grange. 
 
 They parted at the corner. No sooner had 
 Betsy-Barbara taken a Fifth Avenue stage and 
 started on her puzzling journey of intrigue, 
 than Rosalie called a taxicab and set her course 
 for the East Side docks of lower Manhattan. 
 
 Here we must introduce a new character in 
 this story, a person who flashes in and out as 
 people are ever flashing in and out of our lives, 
 bearing service in their hands. At this point
 
 272 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 also appears though ever so slightly the ele 
 ment of coincidence. Luck had entered a little 
 into these operations of Rosalie Le Grange, as 
 it enters, to an extent that a novelist never 
 dares admit, into all chains of human affairs. 
 This final stroke of luck was small; but it fell 
 toward Rosalie s ends. Doubtless had it failed, 
 she, the fertile, would have found another plan 
 as good. 
 
 The new character, then, is Skipper Matt 
 Baldwin of the schooner Maud, engaged in the 
 coastwise lumber trade. The Maud is lying 
 at the dock, preparing to sail for Halifax on 
 the morrow with a return cargo. A battered 
 and pleasant old man, the Skipper Baldwin, 
 with an eagle profile which denotes his courage 
 and a soft eye which indicates his gullibility. 
 He tossed a life long on the seven seas before 
 he bought the Maud and settled down for the 
 rest of his days to coasting. He was a widower 
 of long and affectionate memory; because of 
 that and because of his searchings of the spirit 
 on lonely voyages, he became a believer in 
 spiritualism of the kind which Rosalie Le 
 Grange used to practise. Rosalie was his fa 
 vorite medium and his friend. Between voy-
 
 A STROKE OF LUCK 273 
 
 ages, whenever he found her in New York, he 
 used to visit her and receive a consolation which 
 was false in detail and yet true in spirit. To 
 the general, there are only two ways of look 
 ing at a professional medium as a hell-born 
 fraud or a heaven-sent friend. To him, she 
 was all a friend. There was nothing, he told 
 her again and again, that he would not do for 
 her. She believed that ; and her beliefs in the 
 heights and depths of humanity seldom went 
 wrong. Toward the schooner Maud she was 
 now driving her taxicab. 
 
 The piece of luck was this: at the very mo 
 ment when the taxicab rounded the corner from 
 Wall Street and the driver began to inquire for 
 Pier 16l/2, Captain Baldwin was as near to pro 
 fanity as his convictions allowed. As for the 
 mate, he had no convictions which prevented 
 him from expressing himself to the limits of 
 his vocabulary, over that unlucky accident, that 
 tumble into the hatches, which had sent a newly- 
 signed Italian member of the crew to Bellevue 
 Hospital nursing a broken arm. With all the 
 heaven-condemned things they had to do before 
 the improper old scow could be cleared in the 
 morning, how the sin and sulphur (the mate
 
 274 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 inquired of the bright air) were they going to 
 dig up another sailor to satisfy the port regula 
 tions? The skipper, braiding rope, returned 
 no answer, for answer there was none.
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 
 THE LAST SEANCE 
 
 FORTUNATELY for her plans, only 
 three of Rosalie Le Grange s regular 
 boarders ever came home to luncheon Con 
 stance, Betsy-Barbara and Professor Noll. 
 Of these, two were disposed of for the day. 
 Professor Noll, reporting in the dining-room 
 at twelve-thirty sharp regular meals at reg 
 ular hours was a canon of the Noll Scientific 
 Plan found three strangers already placed 
 and eating. Two young men, powerful and 
 slow-moving, sat at either side of the hostess. 
 At the other end of the table, in Miss Hard- 
 ing s accustomed seat, was a matronly woman, 
 gray-haired but alert of motion and eye. 
 
 "Mr. Kennedy Mr. Hunter Mrs. Leary 
 I want to introduce Professor Noll. The 
 professor is one of my regular boarders. This 
 lady and these gentlemen are transients ; they ll 
 
 275
 
 276 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 be with us just a few days," said Rosalie Le 
 Grange. The two men nodded and fell to 
 their luncheon, of which they consumed vast 
 quantities. Mrs. Leary, however, smiled upon 
 him an experienced smile. 
 
 "Mrs. Leary," pursued Rosalie Le Grange, 
 "has got some foreign views I m sure you d 
 like to see. You won t be droppin in this 
 afternoon, will you?" 
 
 "No," said Professor Noll, "sorry, I m mak 
 ing up the paper to-day. I won t get home 
 until just before my dinner. My habit," he 
 added, addressing Mrs. Leary, "always to dine 
 just at seven. Not that the hour of seven, or 
 any other hour, makes a difference in the abso 
 lute. It is regularity that counts mathemat 
 ical regularity. The human intestinal system 
 is a machine, admirable, well-balanced, nicely 
 calculated to its uses. Now the minute study 
 of scientific management has proved that a 
 machine " And so Professor Noll, having 
 mounted his hobby, rode blithely away upon 
 it ; and Mrs. Leary, with all the ready tact of 
 the experienced police matron that she was, 
 vaulted to the pommel and rode with him. 
 Rosalie had learned all she wanted to know.
 
 THE LAST STANCE 277^ 
 
 Professor Noll would not trouble her again 
 that afternoon. 
 
 As Professor Noll, still talking diet to Mrs. 
 Leary, put on his overcoat, Rosalie sought the 
 kitchen. She addressed Mrs. Moore, the cook 
 and the waitress, all busy stacking up the soiled 
 dishes. 
 
 "I ve got a little surprise for you girls," she 
 said. "A gentleman friend of mine who sings 
 in the chorus of the Laughing Lass sent me 
 three seats for the professional matinee to-day. 
 But this morning two people I was goin to 
 take, telephoned they couldn t come on account 
 of sickness in the family. Now this Mrs. 
 Leary shows up she s an old friend an she 
 positively hates music. Just this once, I m go- 
 in to give you an afternoon off an let you 
 leave the dishes. Mrs. Leary an I will do 
 them. She s been livin in hotels that long she s 
 just hungry for housework, she says. Strikes 
 you kind of funny, don t it, that anybody d 
 rather wash dishes than go to a matinee?" 
 
 "A professional matinee!" cried the cook. 
 "What s that?" 
 
 "Are they right down-stairs?" asked the 
 waitress.
 
 278 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 "I must put on my brown dress," mourned 
 Mrs. Moore. 
 
 "Well, you ll have to hurry if you re goin to 
 fuss up," said Rosalie. "The theater is away 
 up-town and the curtain goes up at two-ten 
 sharp, an it s way past one now." Rosalie had 
 looked out for these details when she bought the 
 seats at a down-town ticket agency. Forth 
 with, aprons came off and smiles came on, as 
 the below-stairs inhabitants of Madame Le 
 Grange s select boarding-house scurried to their 
 finery. 
 
 They were gone at length, after an uncom 
 fortable period, during which Rosalie twice be 
 trayed her nervousness by knocking at their 
 doors and reminding them that the time was 
 short. Another pause. The chimes of the 
 Metropolitan Tower rang the hour of two. At 
 the first stroke, Rosalie, as one who finds relief 
 in action, ran down the basement steps and 
 opened the back door. Inspector Martin Mc- 
 Gee, dressed in plain clothes and carrying a 
 small bag, was waiting outside. 
 
 "All set?" he asked under his breath. 
 
 "Everything s ready," replied Rosalie as she 
 led the way across the basement.
 
 THE LAST SEANCE 279 
 
 But Inspector McGee stopped her at the 
 stairway. 
 
 "Say, it s all right to let you have your head 
 and do things your own way. Grimaldi re 
 ported back for other duty at one o clock, just 
 as you told him. But I m running risks when 
 I take your word that you ll deliver this Es- 
 trilla when we want him or I would be, if it 
 was anybody but you. Why can t you tell 
 me?" 
 
 "See here, Marty McGee," said Rosalie, 
 "I ve got ready to put one of the biggest 
 feathers in your cap that you ever wore. An 
 I ve done it by goin my own woman s way. 
 If it hadn t been for me, you d been barkin up 
 the wrong tree yet. I ve acted this way be 
 cause I do things woman-fashion, an there ain t 
 a single mutt man alive that would ever say I 
 was on the right track until I delivered the 
 goods. The hardest thing I know is to tell 
 what I know that s a habit. Are you goin 
 to believe me when I say that I can put my 
 hands on this Estrilla whenever I please? Are 
 you goin to leave that to me, just like you ve 
 left the whole thing so far?" 
 
 Reassured, Inspector McGee smiled on her.
 
 280 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 Usually that smile, directed on Rosalie Le 
 Grange, brought a responsive flash of coquet 
 tish dimples and sparkling teeth. But it 
 seemed like trying to fire dead ashes now. Her 
 face was serious and drawn. Suddenly it en 
 tered his mind that she looked her age. Un 
 acquainted with that defiance of time by which 
 a charming woman may be fifty in one minute 
 and twenty in the next, he pondered on this 
 with all his heavy mental processes. And sud 
 denly it came to Inspector McGee with a kind 
 of shock that he regarded her all the more ten 
 derly therefor. It was a pity that such as 
 Rosalie Le Grange should lose her young 
 looks. 
 
 "Of course you re goin to leave it to me! 
 Now come on!" said Rosalie Le Grange, 
 breaking into his meditations. 
 
 The two city detectives and the one police 
 matron were waiting silently in Rosalie Le 
 Grange s room. As the Inspector entered, a 
 change came over them. None rose or shifted 
 position, but their bodies took on an appear 
 ance of alert stiffness, their faces a look of at 
 tention. Salutes, square shoulders, all the 
 frills and decorations of military etiquette, were
 
 THE LAST SEANCE 281 
 
 unnecessary among these four to prove the 
 strictness of the Inspector s command. 
 
 McGee locked the door behind him. Rosa 
 lie closed the transom. 
 
 "Is this place safe for talk, now?" 
 
 "Perfect," said Rosalie. "I ve tried it. 
 But talk low, to be sure." 
 
 The Inspector opened the bag. 
 
 "There s your felt shoes," he said. "Now 
 listen, boys and you, Mrs. Leary. This here 
 lady is running this thing, until I tell you dif 
 ferent. Got your notes and pencils, Kennedy? 
 All right. Mrs. Le Grange, you tell em just 
 what you want." 
 
 When Rosalie had rehearsed her drama, with 
 careful provision for unforeseen emergencies, 
 when her forces had scattered Hunter to the 
 basement, Kennedy to Miss Harding s room, 
 Mrs. Leary, impersonating the maid, to the 
 front door Rosalie stood alone with Inspector 
 McGee. 
 
 "Well, everything s ready," said the Inspec 
 tor, "and time s precious." 
 
 "Yes, I m goin in a minute," she responded ; 
 but her voice was dead. "I feel like I was 
 going to be operated on. That s how I feel."
 
 282 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 "Aw, brace up !" said Martin McGee. 
 
 Rosalie did not answer at once. Her eyes, 
 sweeping the room to avoid direct gaze lighted 
 on the dresser, where stood a photograph of 
 Constance Hanska a solicited gift. She 
 fixed her gaze on that; and the fallen lines of 
 her face lifted with determination. 
 
 "Yes," she said, "I m goin to brace up." 
 
 She started up-stairs, then, to that room on 
 the third floor back, the center of the sinister 
 web which she had made of this, her dwelling- 
 place, so strangely acquired, so strangely used. 
 In that web struggled a half -blind, half-dis 
 tracted fly, toward which she, the spider, was 
 now creeping. Some such comparison may 
 have struck Rosalie, for she shuddered twice 
 in her slow progress. And these were not the 
 assumed shudders which announced her false 
 "control." 
 
 Rosalie knocked at Miss Estrilla s door. 
 
 "Come in!" cried the invalid, more eagerly 
 than her wont. And as Rosalie entered, "Oh, 
 I was expecting you ! Can you will you to- 
 day?" 
 
 "I ve been puttin all the power I have into 
 this thing," said Rosalie Le Grange; "you ve
 
 THE LAST SEANCE 283 
 
 rfio idea how I ve tried. I was awake half the 
 night, just gettin into touch." 
 
 "I m sure I m grateful for that," replied 
 Miss Estrilla. 
 
 "I m pretty sure I ll be strong," pursued 
 Rosalie, "but I m just as sure that it will be 
 weeks an weeks before I can ever do it again. 
 This is my last sittin with you for ever so long, 
 Miss Estrilla. I can feel it goin . When I m 
 playin for all my power, as I ve got to now, 
 conditions must be right. You wouldn t mind, 
 would you, if I darkened this room complete? 
 An let s have a little more air." 
 
 There was a window, which opened upon the 
 fire-escape, at the foot of Miss Estrilla s bed. 
 This window Rosalie darkened last of all; but 
 first she raised the sash a foot. 
 
 "That curtain will blow an disturb me," she 
 said. "I m goin to pin it down." 
 
 Had Miss Estrilla s soul held any emotions, 
 in that moment, but grief and eagerness had 
 she been capable just then of suspicion she 
 might have noted a tiny but significant sound. 
 The fire-escape had creaked a little, as though 
 a weight had been imposed at the bottom. It 
 creaked again at intervals for the next five
 
 284 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 minutes, but afterward, usually, when the roar 
 of a passing Ninth Avenue elevated train 
 drowned all slighter sounds. 
 
 "Now I m ready to try," said Rosalie, set 
 tling down at the foot of the couch. "Dear, 
 you do look anxious! Don t try to crowd the 
 spirits that s always the best way but re 
 member again this is about the last control 
 that s in me for a month. Be quiet, dearie. * 
 Her eyes sought the distances, her body shook. 
 Then came the change which Miss Estrilla had 
 watched so often, and with such a fascinated 
 eagerness. Rosalie s body relaxed and fell 
 backward in the Morris-chair. Her lids 
 gradually closed. She breathed as though 
 asleep. 
 
 "Oh, sad lady again!" babbled Laughing- 
 Eyes, quite suddenly. She could hear Miss 
 Estrilla shift eagerly on her couch. "I can t 
 stay long. John speaks. He says he wants 
 you quick. John is big and strong. Good-by, 
 sad lady." 
 
 Rosalie s breath came hard; her body 
 wrenched; a masculine voice followed the 
 voice which Rosalie always assumed when she 
 impersonated Captain John H. Hanska.
 
 THE LAST SEANCE 285 
 
 "I am here again, Margaret ; I love you. I 
 am ready to forgive." 
 
 "Oh, John, thank you thank God you will 
 when you know. For, John, you have so little 
 to forgive, beside what I have already for 
 given." As usual Miss Estrilla made reply. 
 
 "I know. And I suffer. But I understand. 
 First I have told you how little I saw that 
 night. My flesh still clung to me " 
 
 Rosalie stopped here and seemed to gather 
 her body together, as though the thing which 
 controlled her was struggling to assert more 
 power. 
 
 "So I do not know what happened even be 
 fore I passed out it came so suddenly say 
 to me again that you loved me." 
 
 "So much, John dear, that I can not tell you 
 all" 
 
 "And I put aside such a love as that for 
 jewels!" 
 
 "Yes, John. And when I searched your 
 room the night I found you there I would 
 have given them all to you if you had waked 
 and spoken kindly to me. But you were mar 
 ried and you would have died soon at the best. 
 Oh, why not before this happened to Juan "
 
 286 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 "Was it Juan? I have told you that I could 
 not see clearly at that time it is all confused." 
 
 "Yes, dearest. You could not understand 
 because of the clothes but dearest, it was Juan 
 who held the knife which went into your body. 
 Oh, forgive him more than me. He is my 
 brother he did it for me John, I can t for 
 get his remorse when he came to me were you 
 watching? Did you see?" 
 
 "No I was not awake in spirit yet quick" 
 the voice was growing weak. 
 
 "He himself did not understand, then, how 
 you died. He thought the knife killed you. 
 He worked it all out afterward when I told 
 him about your condition. But then, he said 
 to me : My God, I have run a knife into Cap 
 tain Hanska! What is it what is it!" 
 
 For Rosalie had leaped from her chair, run 
 up the window-shade at the foot of the bed, 
 thrown the sash wide open. Into the room 
 leaped two men. They ranged themselves be 
 side the couch. 
 
 "What is it!" screamed Miss Estrilla again. 
 
 "These are police detectives," said Rosalie 
 in her natural voice. "They have been listen 
 ing behind that window. They ve come to find
 
 THE LAST SEANCE 287 
 
 what you know about the death of Captain 
 John H. Hanska." 
 
 Miss Estrilla gave a little scream which died 
 in a rattle of her throat. Her eyes caught at 
 Rosalie. "Traitor!" she managed to gasp be 
 fore she gave another scream and fainted, as 
 Rosalie Le Grange expected that she would. 
 
 Rosalie rushed for water and restoratives. 
 
 "Get right at her as she comes out," she 
 whispered to Inspector McGee in passing. 
 "That s the time." 
 
 "Ain t you going to stay?" inquired McGee. 
 
 "No. She ll be too busy hatin me ever to 
 talk. An there s two things I never want to 
 watch. One s a hangin , an the other s the 
 Third Degree." 
 
 And by the time that Miss Estrilla was con 
 scious again of the sights and sounds of this, 
 her terrible world, Rosalie was gone from the 
 room, and Detective Kennedy, police stenog 
 rapher, who had been listening at the open tell 
 tale register of the room below, was with the 
 group of inquisitors about her bed.
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 THE THIRD DEGREE 
 
 4 6 A ND now we will take your statement," 
 M. said Martin McGee. 
 The first brutal processes of the Third De 
 gree were finished the Third Degree, that 
 modern system of torture more terrible than the 
 medieval by just so much as the mind is more 
 sensitive than the body. We do well, as Rosa 
 lie Le Grange has said, not to witness it. Miss 
 Estrilla lies back on the couch, a bruised and 
 broken soul, ready now to tell all the truth be 
 cause there is in her no more strength to lie. 
 Detective Kennedy has drawn a table to the 
 center of the room, set out his pencils and his 
 note-books, and prepared for his work. Mc 
 Gee and Hunter, expert inquisitors both, sit 
 where she can not avoid their eyes if she but 
 look up. The door has half-opened in the 
 midst of the preliminary proceedings, and into 
 the shadow outside creeps Rosalie Le Grange, 
 
 288
 
 THE THIRD DEGREE 289 
 
 to listen with all her ears. The victim on the 
 couch is no more pale and drawn than Rosalie 
 as she stands there, one hand on the lintel. 
 
 "Your name and all about yourself first," 
 says Inspector McGee, urging gently now. 
 
 Let me omit, as the expert police stenog 
 rapher did, certain expletives, repetitions, diva 
 gations, which always mar testimony. The po 
 lice stenographer edits these extraneous words 
 out of official statements. Let me omit, too, 
 those passages of question and answer by which 
 the police refresh the memory of the witness. 
 Let me just give the document, as it was filed 
 away in the archives of the New York Police 
 Department. 
 
 "My name is Margarita Perez. I am thirty- 
 five years old, and unmarried. I was born in 
 the Island of Trinidad, where I lived all my 
 life. Juan Perez is my half-brother, ten years 
 younger than I. Our father was the same, 
 but my mother was an Englishwoman, my 
 brother s mother was Spanish. My father was 
 a cacao grower. He was very rich once, but 
 he lost much of his money. When he died, 
 four years ago, he left my brother the planta-
 
 290 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 tions, and me a very small income and the fam 
 ily jewels they were worth twenty thousand 
 dollars of your money. My brother came into 
 his property when he was twenty-one. He 
 managed poorly; and then he had bad luck. 
 By last summer, he was so near failure that 
 there seemed to be only one way out for me to 
 sell my jewels and give him the money. I 
 wanted to do that, but he wouldn t let me make 
 the sacrifice. He said that he had committed 
 his follies himself, and would suffer for him 
 self. He saw one more chance to save us. We 
 had rich relatives in Caracas, on the Venezue 
 lan mainland. He went there to see if they 
 would help. Caracas is not very far, but it is 
 a long journey on the kind of boats and trains 
 that run in the Indies and South America. He 
 was gone three or four weeks. He sent me 
 only one letter ; and it was so discouraging that 
 I felt sure there was no hope. 
 
 "Just before that letter arrived, and after 
 Juan left for Caracas, Captain John H. Han- 
 ska came to Port of Spain from Antwerp. 
 Though my father was Spanish, we lived in 
 the English fashion; I was free to meet men.
 
 THE THIRD DEGREE 291 
 
 I met Captain Hanska and fell in love with 
 him" 
 
 (Here the police stenographer cut corners. 
 In this last phrase he condensed many divaga 
 tions and evasions on the part of the witness; 
 indeed, Inspector Martin McGee, expert in 
 quisitor that he was, spent five minutes in bring 
 ing out that simple declaration and the next. ) 
 
 "He said that he loved me. I believed him. 
 It was all very quick. Within a week we 
 were secretly engaged. I supposed that he 
 was an American army officer on special duty. 
 And after we were betrothed, I told him about 
 our troubles and my wish to help Juan. My 
 mind was made up by that time I would sell 
 my jewels before my brother returned to pre 
 vent me. I told this to Captain Hanska. He 
 offered to help. He said that he must go to 
 England the next week, and in England he 
 could sell them to much better advantage than 
 in Port of Spain. I agreed I trusted him 
 absolutely, you see. Then he told me that he 
 could dispose of them more easily, and for more 
 money, if he appeared to be the owner. So 
 I made out and signed a bill of sale, describing
 
 292 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 in detail every piece to the last ring and pin, 
 and transferring them absolutely to him. Now 
 I know what a foolish thing I did. For that 
 made the jewels his property in law, as surely 
 as though he had bought them from me. 
 
 "The steamer on which he planned to sail 
 for England he told me was due to leave 
 Port of Spain on Wednesday morning. On 
 Monday night he visited me and took away 
 the jewels. He said that he wanted to regis 
 ter them in advance with the purser. He prom 
 ised to come again on Tuesday night. He 
 did not appear. I learned the next morning 
 that he had left on Tuesday for New York. 
 I started for the pier from which the South 
 ampton steamer sails, in order to see if there 
 was any mistake. On the way, I met a friend 
 of the family who had been waiting to w r arn 
 me. He had found out about Captain Han- 
 ska s career in Caracas. He proved to me that 
 the Captain was an adventurer and almost a 
 professional gambler. Then I understood. 
 I told no one about the jewels until Juan 
 came back; but I wrote a letter to Captain 
 Hanska in care of the steamship company. 
 Somehow, it reached him. He answered it
 
 THE THIRD DEGREE 293 
 
 with a cold letter, claiming the jewels abso 
 lutely and stating that he bought them from 
 me. 
 
 "That arrived just after Juan came back 
 from Caracas. Juan had not succeeded in 
 raising money. The plantation went into 
 bankruptcy. That is the matter with my eyes. 
 They had always been troublesome. But now 
 I gave them a real disease by weeping over 
 the loss of our property." 
 
 (Here, as Miss Estrilla made her statement, 
 she spoke broken phrases about another loss. 
 The police questioned her minutely to discover 
 what she meant. Upon finding that she re 
 ferred merely to the loss of a whole heart s love, 
 they dismissed this part of her statement as 
 immaterial, and did not enter it upon the rec 
 ord.) 
 
 "I told Juan, of course. He was very kind 
 to me. He did not reproach me. But we 
 could do nothing, he found. Captain Hanska 
 had landed in New York the passenger lists 
 showed that. It was certain that he had smug 
 gled the jewels into the United States without 
 paying duty ; and we confirmed that afterward. 
 Juan has- found out a great deal since then
 
 294 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 about jewel smuggling. The agents of your 
 government watch the big purchases in Europe, 
 and notify the custom-house to look out for 
 them. But an irregular purchase at a remote 
 point like Port of Spain it is easy for an ex 
 pert to smuggle such jewels through the cus 
 toms. We decided at last to go to the United 
 States and see if we could get them back 
 if not the jewels, at least the bill of sale 
 because if the diamonds were in our possession 
 with the bill of sale destroyed, we could prove 
 by half the people in Port of Spain that they 
 were ours. We were safe in stealing them 
 from him perfectly safe. For he would not 
 dare complain to the New York police, since 
 if he claimed them publicly, we could have him 
 arrested for smuggling. 
 
 "Juan thought that all out. We took 
 what little money we had left and started for 
 New York, telling our friends that we were 
 going to settle in New Orleans. Juan wrote 
 to our uncles in Caracas and secured the New 
 York agency for a small asphalt company of 
 theirs. That was done to conceal our real 
 reason for being here. On the voyage, my
 
 THE THIRD DEGREE 295 
 
 eyes grew worse, I cried so much. I was very 
 ill with them when I landed. 
 
 "Juan and I took rooms apart. We had 
 learned enough about Captain Hanska to know 
 where we might look for him. Juan traced 
 him to Mrs. Moore s boarding-house. It 
 seemed certain that Captain Hanska had not 
 sold the jewels yet, else he would not be living 
 so cheaply. The first thing was to find where 
 they were. Finally Juan and I formed a plan 
 and acted upon it. 
 
 "Juan had discovered that the back room on 
 the top floor of Mrs. Moore s house was vacant. 
 Captain Hanska lived below ; there was no good 
 reason for him ever to come up on that floor. 
 I took the vacant room, calling myself Miss 
 Estrilla, as you know. Juan had been watch 
 ing Captain Hanska like a detective. He 
 moved me in one day when the Captain had 
 gone to Staten Island. My presence in the 
 house was safer than it may seem to you. I 
 did not leave my room even for meals, since 
 my eyes were really in very bad condition. 
 Then, I wore dark glasses, an eye-shade and 
 a heavy scarf about my head I do not believe
 
 296 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 my own mother would have known me. Cap 
 tain Hanska had never seen Juan or his pic- 
 t ture it just happened that there were no pho 
 tographs of him in our house at Port of Spain. 
 
 "Juan lived in an apartment-hotel. We 
 were in communication all the time by tele 
 phone. He was careful to avoid the Captain 
 when he visited me. It was all dangerous, for 
 at any time we might be discovered. But we 
 had our plan I was to enter Captain Han- 
 ska s room with a pass-key and search for the 
 jewels or the bill of sale. Whenever I made 
 this search, Juan was to be following Captain 
 Hanska. If the Captain showed signs of re 
 turning, Juan was to call me up on the tele 
 phone the ringing of the bell in my room, 
 which informed me from down-stairs that I was 
 wanted on the extension telephone by my door, 
 was to be my warning signal. I could hear 
 that bell from Captain Hanska s room. There 
 could be no mistake, because Juan was the only 
 person in New York who would be telephoning 
 to me. 
 
 "But when I tried Captain Hanska s door 
 with my pass-key, I found that he had installed 
 a new patent spring-lock. The next time
 
 THE THIRD DEGREE 297 
 
 Juan called, he looked over the house. He 
 found that you could enter Captain Hanska s 
 room from the fire-escape and that you could, 
 get on to the fire-escape from the window of 
 the lumber-room across the hall from mine. 
 That room was never locked. It was only 
 a question of prying open the catch on Cap 
 tain Hanska s window. One night about a 
 week before Captain Hanska died, I began the 
 search. I went down the fire-escape, carry 
 ing a pocket electric torch which Juan had 
 bought for me. I got the window-catch open 
 with a penknife it was old and loose. I 
 went over the whole room that night and again 
 on another night and found nothing. I did 
 discover a little strong-box in the top drawer 
 of the dresser. It lay wide open. It had a 
 curious lock. In that, I was sure, he would 
 put the jewels if he ever wanted to move them. 
 There was no sign of the bill of sale. It oc 
 curred to me, then, that Captain Hanska might 
 be carrying it on his person. I knew him to 
 be a very sound sleeper he had boasted to 
 me of that, and he proved it by sleeping 
 through a fire at his hotel when he was in 
 Port of Spain. So I did a dangerous thing.
 
 298 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 Without speaking to Juan, I went down the 
 fire-escape at two o clock in the morning of a 
 night when Captain Hanska was at home, and 
 looked through his pockets. I even examined 
 all the papers in his wallet by the light of the 
 electric torch. But it was not there. Juan, 
 when I told him, was angry with me for tak 
 ing such a risk. He made me promise never 
 to enter the room again unless Captain Han- 
 ska was away. 
 
 "And then we found that we must act 
 quickly, or lose our property forever. Juan 
 was watching Captain Hanska, following his 
 movements very closely. That day the day 
 and night when everything happened the 
 Captain visited a jeweler in Maiden Lane 
 I think you call it. He stayed a long time. 
 From there he went to a safe deposit bank. 
 When he came out, he had a package in his 
 pocket Juan could see his coat bulge. Juan 
 was afraid that he would go straight back to 
 the jeweler and make the sale; and then our 
 last hope would have been gone. Instead, 
 Captain Hanska went to a cafe and sat alone 
 a long time, drinking. When he left that 
 place, he returned to Mrs. Moore s. And the
 
 299 
 
 shape of his pocket showed that he still carried 
 the package. 
 
 "It was plain to us that the package con 
 tained the jewels, and that he intended to dis 
 pose of them at once probably the next morn 
 ing. That night the jewels would be in his 
 room and it was our last chance. Juan came 
 to see me just after dinner. We talked it all 
 over, and made our final plans. In the first 
 place, it seemed best for Juan to do the work 
 himself. I am a woman, and very weak with 
 grief and illness. I could do nothing in case 
 I was discovered. Though Juan had never 
 been in the room, I could tell him exactly 
 where to look there seemed no doubt that 
 Captain Hanska was keeping the strong-box 
 for that very purpose. 
 
 "Then we considered another thing how 
 we should both get away. At first we decided 
 that I should leave the house early, and that 
 Juan, after getting the jewels, should follow 
 me. But he did not dare to make the attempt 
 before one or two o clock in the morning, when 
 Captain Hanska would surely be asleep even 
 the heaviest sleepers sometime lie awake a long 
 time after they go to bed. Mrs. Moore, we
 
 300 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 knew, was very watchful she was afraid of 
 burglars and she had a habit of running to 
 her door whenever any one entered or left dur 
 ing the night. She would know that I had 
 gone out; if Juan left at one or two in the 
 morning, Mrs. Moore would take alarm, know 
 ing as she did that I was out of the house. 
 Being nervous and ignorant, she was likely, 
 we felt, to seize him or to give some sort of 
 an alarm. We were thinking of every possi 
 bility, you see. These things are necessary 
 for me to tell, that you may understand what 
 happened later." 
 
 (This in answer to an objection of Inspector 
 McGee, who was urging her to come to the 
 point. ) 
 
 "At about ten o clock, we decided just what 
 to do. 
 
 "Juan and I are about of a size. I am large 
 for a woman. He is small for a man. We do 
 not resemble each other in the upper part of 
 the face, but our mouths and chins are very 
 much alike. It was one of our games at home 
 to dress in each other s clothes. I would put 
 on his ulster, pull his hat far down over my 
 eyes, and fool people into believing that I was
 
 THE THIRD DEGREE 301 
 
 he. Further, his voice is light, and he can 
 talk in falsetto. This was an old family game. 
 We played eternally on the resemblance in the 
 charades and theatricals that English people 
 are always getting up. 
 
 "This was our plan: we were to change 
 clothes. We had heard people singing in the 
 parlor all that evening. The boarders all 
 knew that Juan sometimes sang falsetto in fun. 
 I was to watch my chance when the hall was 
 vacant, pass the parlor, sing just a little in 
 my own voice to make them believe I was Juan 
 singing falsetto, and go to his rooms, where 
 I was to wait. The night was rainy. It was 
 natural, therefore, that I should be bundled up 
 in a mackintosh and have my hat pulled down 
 over my eyes. 
 
 "Dressed in my clothes, Juan was to enter 
 Captain Hanska s room, get the jewels, leave 
 by the door, go down the stairs, and join me. 
 I used sometimes to get a little outdoor exer 
 cise in the early morning when I need not fear 
 meeting Captain Hanska, and when most of 
 the city lights are out, so that the eyes have 
 less strain. If Mrs. Moore waked, looked out, 
 and saw Juan in my clothes, she would think
 
 302 THE RED BUTTON, 
 
 it was I going for my exercise and take no 
 alarm. 
 
 "In case Juan failed, he was to go back to 
 my room and telephone to me, speaking Span 
 ish and imitating my voice. Then, still dressed 
 as Juan, I was to return to Mrs. Moore s early 
 next morning and change clothes but that 
 part of our plan does not matter. 
 
 "We began everything just as we planned. 
 As I went down the stairs, I passed Mrs. 
 Moore. In the hall, I saw a young man 
 Mr. Wade, I believe. I showed myself at the 
 door and looked in, and sang a little. By the 
 w r ay they laughed and spoke, I knew that I had 
 deceived them. 
 
 "I went straight to Juan s rooms. The ele 
 vator man in his hotel was fooled just as much 
 as the boarders, it seems. I waited there a 
 long time. Then Juan telephoned to me, talk 
 ing in Spanish and calling me Juan, as if he 
 were I. He said that Captain Hanska had 
 been murdered and for me to come at once 
 to him that he needed me he said it all as 
 a hysterical woman would. Somehow I man 
 aged to do as he asked. I had to pass Cap 
 tain Hanska s door. I heard people making
 
 THE THIRD DEGREE 303 
 
 a noise inside. Of course I did not enter. But 
 right by the door I saw something bright. I 
 knew it at once it was one of my diamond 
 buckles one of the jewels which Captain 
 Hanska had stolen from me. I picked it up, 
 and went on to my room. Juan was there in 
 my dress. He kept me from fainting or dy 
 ing while we changed back to our own clothes. 
 I know the rest from Juan. Shall I tell it?" 
 
 (At about this point, occurred one of those 
 irruptions of expletives, broken sentences, 
 pleas, prayers, which always mar a confession 
 for legal purposes, and is, therefore, edited out 
 by the police before the finished typewritten 
 statement goes back to the witness for his sig 
 nature. This extraneous matter, you see, 
 tends to create in the minds of unthinking per 
 sons a false sentiment for the criminal.) 
 
 "Juan said that he waited until after one 
 o clock. The house was quiet. From the win 
 dow of the lumber-room, he crawled to the fire- 
 escape. That window had a spring-catch 
 you had only to pull it down and it locked of 
 itself. Since he intended to leave Captain 
 Hanska s room by the door, he closed this win 
 dow behind him in order to cover up his tracks.
 
 304. THE RED BUTTON 
 
 That window of the Captain s room which led 
 to the fire-escape, was open for ventilation. 
 The rain was drifting through it. It occurred 
 to Juan that everything would be safer if he 
 closed it he was afraid that a gust of wind 
 might blow spray into Captain Hanska s face, 
 and wake him. He did that; and he fastened 
 the sash with the catch. Captain Hanska was 
 asleep, breathing very heavily. Remember 
 that. 
 
 "You have seen the room. The bureau, 
 where I found the strong-box, was in the corner 
 farthest from the window which Juan had just 
 entered. Between it and the window were a 
 table and Captain Hanska s bed. Juan car 
 ried our pocket electric torch. He turned it 
 on the inside of the top bureau drawer. The 
 box was there. Also, the key was in its lock. 
 Juan thought it would be better to take the 
 jewels out and leave the box. By doing that 
 he could find whether the bill of sale was with 
 the jewels, or whether he would have to search 
 further for it. That was his great mistake. 
 It was a trick box. Inside was an alarm-bell 
 which rang whenever the cover was lifted.
 
 THE THIRD DEGREE 305 
 
 "Juan opened it; the bell rang. Captain 
 Hanska awoke at once. Juan had no time 
 to move, before Captain Hanska pressed the 
 button at the head of his bed and turned on 
 the electric light. It musthave bewildered him 
 for a moment w T hen he saw what appeared to 
 be a woman standing by his bureau but Juan 
 held the strong-box in his hands. When he 
 saw that, the Captain came at him. Juan is 
 a small man. Captain Hanska was big and 
 very powerful. Just then, Juan saw on the 
 table between them that great knife. 
 
 "Juan is a swordsman. He picked up the 
 knife to stop the Captain by threatening him 
 with it held the point toward his chest. 
 Captain Hanska was a brave man, and very 
 violent in anger. He had one of his terrible 
 spells of temper now. He began to curse 
 Juan. And then his hands went up to his head 
 all of a sudden, and he tumbled over with 
 all his great weight on the point of the knife. 
 Juan did not thrust he is sure now he did 
 not thrust he only held the knife steady but 
 it pierced Captain Hanska through." (In this 
 place, Detective Kennedy had to edit the state-
 
 306 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 ment a great deal in order to make it seemly 
 for the official archives. ) 
 
 ..,, 
 
 We will leave for a moment the police state 
 ment. 
 
 "Fell on it?" asked Martin McGee. 
 "What s that you re trying to give us?" 
 
 "On my soul and my mother s," solemnly 
 declared Miss Estrilla. "Don t you see can t 
 you understand? A doctor in Port of Spain 
 had warned him of it Juan has done nothing 
 since nothing but read medical books he 
 was dead before he touched the point of the 
 knife if Juan stabbed him, he stabbed a 
 corpse Captain Hanska died of apoplexy 
 caused by his anger!" 
 
 During these last dramatic stages of Miss 
 Estrilla s narrative, Rosalie Le Grange had 
 slipped into the room. For a moment, Miss 
 Estrilla gazed full upon her betrayer. For a 
 moment, all that the tropics had given her of 
 storm and flame glared from her eyes. Then 
 that light died away. Thereafter, it was as 
 though Rosalie had not been. If Miss Es 
 trilla s glance, wandering from one point to 
 another in her effort to concentrate on her nar-
 
 THE THIRD DEGREE 307 
 
 rative, touched upon Rosalie s figure, they 
 looked straight through it. 
 
 Rosalie moved by imperceptible stages to 
 Detective Kennedy s table. Casually, she 
 picked up a fountain pen and a sheet of paper, 
 and wrote: 
 
 "NEW YORK, Nov. 18, 190. 
 r I am telling to the police all I know of my 
 part in the death of Captain John H. Hanska. 
 I have confessed that we followed him to 
 America to get jewels, and that it was my 
 brother Juan who appeared to have stabbed 
 him." 
 
 The Inspector was questioning gently now 
 upon the apoplexy theory, hoping to trap the 
 witness into an inconsistency. While she 
 talked, Miss Estrilla (or Senorita Perez) 
 paused from time to time as though gathering 
 strength. Rosalie waited for such a pause. 
 Then she braced the paper on a book and 
 slipped up to Inspector McGee. 
 
 "You ve forgotten this," she said, "you were 
 goin to git it signed at the very first, you 
 know."
 
 308 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 Inspector McGee s expression proved that 
 he was puzzled. But he had become accus 
 tomed to following Rosalie s mental flights 
 without knowledge of their destination. He 
 nodded, therefore, and gave book, paper and 
 pen to Miss Estrilla. It was the best possible 
 compliment to the Inspector s Third Degree 
 methods, that she signed without a protest. 
 Rosalie took the paper silently; but she did 
 not deposit it where it belonged among the 
 official papers on Detective Kennedy s table. 
 As she resumed her station outside the door, 
 she was folding it in her fingers. 
 
 The police went on, then, with their search- 
 ings and questionings. They failed to notice, 
 so absorbed were they, the sound of retreating 
 footsteps on the stairs. 
 
 We resume, with the painstaking Detective 
 Kennedy, the statement of Margarita Perez, 
 alias Estrilla. 
 
 "It was apoplexy. But Juan did not know 
 it yet. He only knew that Captain Hanska 
 had fallen on the knife and died, and that it 
 would look like murder. He understood your
 
 THE THIRD DEGREE 309 
 
 law ; he knew that to get our property he was 
 committing what looked like burglary, and that 
 a burglar who commits murder can not plead 
 self-defense. He waited by the window to see 
 whether the fall had disturbed the house. No 
 one stirred probably an elevated train was 
 passing at the time it happened. Frightened 
 as he was, he still thought of the jewels, and 
 decided to take them, whatever the risk. He 
 examined the box; the bill of sale was there. 
 Circumstances had changed now; an empty 
 strong-box in the room of a man who appeared 
 to have been murdered, might set the police 
 on the track. He thought of this. So he took 
 the box, open as it was, switched off the elec 
 tric light, and started to leave by the door. 
 The catch of the spring-lock was on. To lock 
 the room from outside, he would have had to 
 slam the door you know how a spring-lock 
 works. That would have made a great deal of 
 noise. It might awaken some one, who would 
 hear footsteps going from Captain Hanska s 
 room to mine. He put the box under his arm 
 and fastened back the catch of the spring-lock, 
 so that he could close the door without sound. 
 Of course, that left it unlocked. In doing all
 
 310 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 this, it seems, he spilled out of the box the 
 diamond buckle which I found on the stairs. 
 
 "Juan went back to my room because he 
 wanted time to think. His first idea was to 
 leave the house dressed in my clothes, just as 
 we had planned, and join me. Then we would 
 escape together. But he knew that the police 
 generally catch fugitives from justice in the 
 end. We were in a strange country. We had 
 no friends to help us. If we were missing 
 from the house in the morning, if we were 
 caught escaping, every one would believe us 
 guilty. Then he had another idea. If I could 
 return, still disguised as Juan, after the body 
 was discovered, he would have a perfect alibi. 
 
 "While he was thinking about this, Mr. 
 North came home and fell into the blood, as 
 you know. 
 
 "Immediately, Juan heard some one calling 
 murder from below. That was his chance to 
 carry out his plan. He telephoned to me. I 
 came. I have told you about that. He 
 changed to his own clothes. I made him go 
 down-stairs and offer to help. My clothes, 
 which Juan had worn down the fire-escape 
 in the rain, were still a little wet. I looked
 
 THE THIRD DEGREE 311 
 
 them over carefully ; there were no blood-stains 
 on them. I put them by the register to dry; 
 and I cleaned the shoes that pair of red ones 
 there in the closet. By the time they came to 
 take me away to this house, no one would have 
 known that my garments had been out in the 
 wet. 
 
 "When they moved me, I took away the 
 jewels and the strong-box in my bedding. La 
 ter Juan dropped the box into the river, and 
 sent the jewels to my cousin in Caracas. 
 
 "It was his plan to leave the country as soon 
 as we might do so without attracting suspi 
 cion. But when they arrested Mr. Wade, I 
 could not agree to that I could not have his 
 death on my soul. Juan was imploring me 
 to leave ; but I told him that I would not until 
 Mr. Wade was released or acquitted. If it 
 came to the worst, I would confess. I per 
 suaded Juan that I was right. That is why 
 we stayed. We had no other reason. 
 
 "I make this statement without hope or offer 
 of reward or immunity, solely in the interest 
 of justice. 
 
 "MARGARITA PEREZ."
 
 312 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 I reiterate this narrative, which to you may 
 seem to run so plainly and simply, was broken 
 all along the way with police questions, with 
 exclamations, with hesitations, with paroxysms, 
 mental and physical. At times, the voice of 
 Miss Estrilla (or Senora Perez) was a mere 
 whisper of horror. At times it swelled to a 
 full poignant note as she tried to make her 
 points in Juan s defense. Now, as she fin 
 ished, it simply ran down until it was silence. 
 And with the tired motion of a child who falls 
 asleep, she quietly fainted. 
 
 "Here, Kennedy, get some water!" ex 
 claimed Inspector McGee. "Mrs. Le Grange 
 Rose Mrs. Le Grange." 
 
 Receiving no answer, McGee searched the 
 hall. She was not there. He went down 
 stairs, calling. He had reached the second 
 floor landing when Mrs. Leary s voice an 
 swered him from below. 
 
 "She went out a quarter of an hour ago," 
 called Mrs. Leary. "You said we were to do 
 what she told us, so I let her through. Wasn t 
 that all right, Chief?"
 
 CHAPTER XIX 
 
 A KUSE 
 
 "1 JI THEN Rosalie Le Grange named the 
 V V Hotel Deidrich to the taxicab chauf 
 feur, her object she followed here but an old 
 instinct was to cover her tracks in case of 
 many contingencies. She dismissed the cab, 
 however, at the north door of the Deidrich, 
 walked through the lobby to the west entrance, 
 walked out on Broadway, walked a block south. 
 There, spying another taxicab whose meter 
 displayed the red sign "vacant," she comman 
 deered it, and announced her real objective. 
 
 "Casino Central Park go fast!" she said. 
 During the drive she stared straight ahead and 
 talked in low undertones to herself. This was 
 an old habit, born of her half -believed, half-as 
 sumed "mediumship" in her days of active 
 practise. In these later days she was still wont 
 to argue out in soft phrases of her lips the 
 
 313
 
 314 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 problems of her soul. One who had overheard 
 these scattered phrases now would have known 
 that she was still fighting for a decision. 
 
 "Well, ain t the world been good to me 
 lately?" she was saying as they swept into the 
 Park entrance. "Can t I afford to take a 
 chance with myself an happiness?" And 
 then, "Oh, how will Martin look at it Mar 
 tin!" 
 
 A little later, as the taxicab took the rolling 
 drive beside a park lake, she was saying : 
 
 "I couldn t bear it if he was sent to the chair 
 I could never live through it I d die, too." 
 It seemed that upon this statement she made 
 her decision, for she talked to herself no more 
 until the taxicab rolled up before the Casino 
 and stopped. And as she rose, her smile broke 
 out for the first time in that passage. But it 
 was a grave smile, whose softness did not reach 
 to her eyes as though one smiled with the 
 humor of God at the tragic comedy in this 
 world. 
 
 "An she called me a traitor an she ll al 
 ways believe it, what s more," she said. 
 
 The piazza of the Casino, so gay and colorful 
 in summer, lay bleak and bare now under the
 
 A RUSE 315 
 
 cold November wind and fading afternoon 
 light, so that Rosalie, sensitive to physical im 
 pressions what with the tensity of her soul, 
 shuddered as she passed from the steps to the 
 door. Within, only a few lights were on; the 
 restaurant, plainly, was letting business fade 
 away toward its winter quiescence. Near the 
 door sat a couple ; then two men ; and there, in 
 the remote corner, was a glint of golden hair 
 which could be only Betsy-Barbara s. Oppo 
 site sat the focus of her search him whom Bet 
 sy-Barbara still thought to be Senor Estrilla. 
 He was smiling just then, and his hands were 
 playing in swift, expressive little gestures. As 
 Rosalie Le Grange waved aside the head waiter 
 and took her interminable journey across the 
 room, it occurred to her that however she fin 
 ished and tied this complex web of hers, these 
 might be the last smiles on his lips for many a 
 weary day. 
 
 He sat facing the door ; he perceived her first ; 
 he rose with an expression of real surprise and 
 pleasure. "Why, Mrs. Le Grange! How 
 did you get here?" he said. But now his eye 
 caught Betsy-Barbara. She, too, had risen, as 
 one who acts at last after long strain of repres-
 
 316 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 sion. Her color came and went ; she was look 
 ing at Rosalie and then back at Estrilla. 
 
 "Miss Lane," said Rosalie in a quiet mean 
 ing voice, "we ll excuse you. Take your coat, 
 dear." 
 
 Estrilla opened his mouth as though to pro 
 test, made an inarticulate sound, stopped. A 
 green tinge came over his face; beginning at 
 his mouth, it crawled upward until it enveloped 
 his eyes, as a cloud-shadow creeps across a 
 landscape. He leaned forward; his hands 
 touched the table; and so he steadied himself. 
 But never once did he turn toward Betsy-Bar 
 bara, now vanishing almost at a run. His eyes 
 were on Rosalie. 
 
 "What does this mean?" he asked. 
 
 "It means first that you had better sit down," 
 she said. "The waiter s lookin this way. A 
 man in your position can t afford to make a 
 scene in a public place." 
 
 Estrilla sank with an unsteady motion into 
 his chair. At this physical support, he seemed 
 to grip his nerve. 
 
 "What do you mean by my position? Why 
 do you come this way Why " 
 
 "Listen. First of all, I m your friend. Get
 
 A RUSE 317 
 
 that right away! I m here to help you. An 
 I m in a hurry. So are you. Remember to 
 hold on to yourself while I tell you what I ve 
 got to tell. The police have your sister. By 
 to-night they ll be after you." 
 
 Estrilla gripped the arms of his chair; the 
 green shade crept back. He moistened his lips 
 once or twice with his tongue. 
 
 "Remember!" went on Rosalie under her 
 voice, "no scene. Hold on to yourself. Mak- 
 in one now is the last thing you ought to do. 
 Is the bill paid? All right. Now get your 
 hat. Now put on your ulster. Yes, your 
 gloves an your stick!" Estrilla obeyed her 
 docilely. "Now come with me into the park 
 it s safer, because we can watch." 
 
 "But my sister I don t care for myself 
 I must go to " 
 
 "I m here," said Rosalie Le Grange, "to do 
 what I can for you an your sister both. Now 
 come, I tell you or will you keep on bein a 
 fool?" At this dash of mental cold water, he 
 rose. Rosalie walked close behind him, ready 
 to support him should he stagger. Outside, a 
 park foot-policeman walked slowly down the 
 path. Estrilla saw him, started, hesitated.
 
 318 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 "Not unless you make a scene!" cried Rosa 
 lie, anticipating his thought. "I m not arrest 
 ing you can t you understand that?" She 
 hurried him to a lonely park bench, half hidden 
 in the shrubbery. When she turned to look 
 him full in the face again, his color was normal ; 
 he had regained his grip. And he spoke with 
 a touch of his old boyish insouciance. 
 
 "This is a little melodrama you are staging, 
 Mrs. Le Grange? Am I the hero or the vil 
 lain?" 
 
 "I expected you to be suspicious an try to 
 bluff this through," said Rosalie in her most 
 matter-of-fact tone, "that s w r hy I stole this 
 note an brought it here." She had been keep 
 ing her hands in her muff. She drew them out, 
 now, and handed him the vital paper : 
 
 "I am telling to the police all I know of my 
 part and my brother s part in the death of 
 Captain John H. Hanska. I have confessed 
 that we followed him to America to get my 
 jewels, and that it was my brother Juan who 
 appeared to have stabbed him. 
 
 "MARGARITA PEREZ."
 
 A RUSE 319 
 
 He read it. As he looked up he was still 
 master of himself, but Rosalie could perceive 
 behind his mask a kind of vibration, an inner 
 agitation of all his nerves. Suddenly one of 
 his legs began to move as though the great 
 muscles of the thigh were twitching. But his 
 will still mastered his voice. 
 
 "Margarita Perez who is she?" 
 
 "She is your sister. You are Juan Perez 
 not Estrilla. You are from Port of Spain. 
 You came here to follow Captain Hanska 
 
 "Where did you hear this?" inquired Estrilla, 
 with a pitiful attempt to put sarcasm into his 
 voice. 
 
 "I have been listening to her confession," re 
 plied Rosalie calmly. "She told the police 
 after she signed that paper how you went into 
 Captain Hanska s room at night to get your 
 family jewels, how that trick alarm on his 
 strong-box woke him up, an how you killed 
 him" 
 
 But Juan Estrilla had leaped up now as 
 though his nerves would be denied no longer. 
 
 "You are here to betray me I know it now !" 
 he said. Somewhere, somehow, the native cun-
 
 320 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 ning of him kept his voice low. To one pass 
 ing, his action would have seemed but the ges 
 ture of heated argument. "You are a spy! 
 She did not tell that she knows I did not kill 
 him!" He stood shaking. "But what are 
 you? Have the police sent you " 
 
 "Now, Mr. Estrilla," said Rosalie, in her 
 most soothing tone, "I m goin to answer a lot 
 that s in your mind before we sit right down an 
 get to cases. In the first place, we re alone 
 here in the park. You re a young man an I m 
 an old woman. If you wanted to, you could 
 get away from me right now easiest thing you 
 know to duck into that shrubbery an run. If 
 I was a female policeman comin to git a con 
 fession an then pinch you, do you suppose I d 
 go at it this way? Do you suppose I d begin 
 by breakin the news to you an givin you a 
 chance to run before I learned anythin at all? 
 You ve been a fool all this time, Mr. Perez. 
 Don t cap it all by delayin , when time is as 
 valuable as it is." 
 
 "How did you know where to find me if you 
 aren t a spy?" said Estrilla. 
 
 "I suspected this trouble was comin , re 
 plied Rosalie Le Grange. "I sent Miss Lane
 
 A RUSE 321 
 
 to deliver you here at five o clock because it s 
 an out-of-the-way place an quiet. Sit down." 
 
 Estrilla shook as he resumed his seat. 
 
 "Does she know?" he asked. 
 
 "Not yet!" said Rosalie. 
 
 "I didn t give her my real reason. I was 
 glad," she pursued, "to hear you bust out in 
 that sincere way when I said you killed Han- 
 ska. I put that in for a test ; an you stood it. 
 Now sit there and listen to what else your sis 
 ter said, an see if any of that could have been 
 worked out by detectives. She says you didn t 
 kill Hanska, that he died of apoplexy an fell 
 on the knife you was holdin against him." 
 
 Estrilla turned his great eyes and moistened 
 his lips as though to speak; but he held to his 
 nerve and made no sound. 
 
 "She says that you carried out that box of 
 jewels with the cover open, an that a diamond 
 buckle dropped out as you were passing 
 through the door. An when she came back in 
 your clothes after you telephoned to her, she 
 picked it up. The jewels are in Caracas. 
 You dropped the box in the river. Could any 
 body patch that together? Could anybody 
 guess that?"
 
 322 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 "Then if he died of apoplexy if I didn t 
 kill him why would they arrest me?" asked 
 Estrilla. 
 
 "Young man," said Rosalie, "how could you 
 prove it?" > 
 
 Innocently and directly, Estrilla came out 
 with what amounted to his confession. 
 
 "He was always in danger from apoplexy 
 my sister knew that. And undoubtedly it was 
 a mortal seizure. For his hands were going to 
 ward his head, not toward the knife. Even 
 when he fell and died, his hands were still going 
 up, not down. I have seen doctors. I have 
 read about apoplexy in every medical book in 
 the Public Library. And when I saw him last 
 there was blood in his nostrils." 
 
 Rosalie nodded. 
 
 "I saw that, too. My, but Coroner s physi 
 cians are dense!" she said. "Now I ve got to 
 talk hard and straight. You were in the act 
 of burglary. It don t make no difference that 
 you had a right to burgle no jury would rec 
 ognize that. The Coroner s physician never 
 thought of anything but that stab wound 
 never thought to look for apoplexy case 
 seemed too plain. You an I are the only peo-
 
 A RUSE 823 
 
 pie who thought about that bloody nose. The 
 body s cremated, an even if it wasn t well, we 
 won t go into that. Why Juan Perez, they d 
 laugh at you. Do you see? Don t you get 
 your fix?" 
 
 He was trembling, and now he made a piti 
 ful movement with his hands as though to 
 steady his head. 
 
 "So you must get away." 
 
 "But my sister " 
 
 "Now hold on to yourself. I ve got to talk 
 awful to make you see this thing. She didn t 
 kill him she couldn t. Anybody could see 
 that. A sick little thing like her hasn t the 
 power in her to drive such a knife into a big 
 man who s standin on his feet. No jury would 
 swallow it. She s accessory or somethin but 
 you can bet, Mr. Juan Perez, that an American 
 jury ain t goin to give a verdict against a sick 
 little woman who s an accessory because she s 
 standin by her brother. They may do that in 
 English countries, but not here. An which do 
 you think would be better for your sister to 
 go to jail until her trial, or to wait by the gate 
 of Sing Sing an take you away some morning 
 all dead an floppy after you d had ten thousand
 
 324 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 volts of electricity switched down your spinal 
 column " 
 
 Estrilla was on his feet now, in a crisis of 
 nerves. His eyes closed and opened to a set 
 stare; every muscle seemed to jump. 
 
 "I thought you d see it," said Rosalie. "I 
 won t keep you in suspense any longer. 
 You re goin to git away. An I ve fixed it. 
 Look at this here, take it!" She pulled 
 another paper from her muff, handed it to Es 
 trilla. It shook in his hands as he read. 
 
 "A seaman s paper," he said at length. 
 
 "For Antonio Corri, an Italian sailor signed 
 for the schooner Maud. He fell down a hatch 
 this morning an broke his leg. An he can t 
 go. You re shippin as him. I ve fixed it. 
 The Captain don t know who you are. He 
 only knows that he s got a man who must beat 
 it out of the country an he ll do anythin for 
 me. He lands at Halifax. He ll fix it for you 
 to get to the next place wherever that may be. 
 I m going to write him at Halifax advisin him 
 about that. An you re to tell him, so he can 
 tell me, so I can tell your sister, where you ve 
 gone. Got any money on you?" 
 
 "Only a little."
 
 A RUSE 325 
 
 "Well, the Captain has two hundred dollars 
 of mine for you. I want you to understand 
 it s a loan with interest at five per cent., to be 
 paid when it s safe. If you need any more, I ll 
 send it to the skipper same terms. That s 
 agreed?" 
 
 "Yes. Why do you" 
 
 "Take all this trouble ? Old fool. Now, lis 
 ten. There s a taxi over there dischargin pas 
 sengers at the Casino. We re goin to flag it. 
 We re goin to take it as far as Sixth Avenue, 
 an we ll travel by elevated the rest of the way, 
 because guards don t remember their passen 
 gers an taxicab drivers sometimes do. I ain t 
 takin any risks of bein traced. We ll get on 
 separate trains an meet on the dock Pier 
 IG 1 /^ East River. Know how to find that? 
 Well, I ll tell you as we go. Here! Taxi!" 
 And Rosalie waved to the chauffeur. 
 
 "Sixth Avenue elevated. Nearest station," 
 she directed. 
 
 In the midst of her minute instructions, Es- 
 trilla (or Perez) started once to thank her. 
 
 "How do you come to do this?" he said. 
 "And how did the police ever 
 
 Rosalie put her mouth close to his ear.
 
 326 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 "Taxis are built funny sometimes," she 
 whispered; "the chauffeur might hear." 
 
 He turned on her a caressing look of grati 
 tude. Life was back in his face and motion 
 now. And Rosalie, looking him over, was 
 moved to speak in such general terms as no 
 chauffeur could possibly interpret. 
 
 "What I can t understand," she said, "is how 
 a man could live in a situation like that an be 
 gay an natural an take risks. Dagos Ital 
 ian an Spanish an such-like I mean must be 
 different. It beats me." 
 
 "We are different," said Estrilla. "I have 
 learned that." He looked out on the serried 
 rows of West Side apartment-houses, and 
 dropped for a second into Spanish. 
 
 "Sangre de Dios!" he said, and then, "how I 
 shall always hate New York I" 
 
 They were drawing up at the elevated. 
 
 "Remember how to get there?" she whispered 
 before she opened the door. "Sure? Go ahead 
 an take the first train. I ll follow on the 
 next. Walk slow after you git off. I ll walk 
 fast neither of us wants to loiter on that 
 pier."
 
 A RUSE 327 
 
 If Estrilla hoped that he would hear further 
 clearance of these mysteries at the dock, he 
 was disappointed. As he passed the gate, 
 Rosalie shot from under shadow of a truck. 
 She glanced to right and left. None of the 
 roustabouts was looking or listening. 
 
 "That first gangplank," she said. "The 
 Captain s aboard expectin you. Just say to 
 him, I am Corri. He knows the rest. You ll 
 change clothes in his cabin. He ll keep you 
 at work below until you sail at daybreak. 
 Go don t thank me go I m sure you ll see 
 your sister in a year or two. Go." Now for 
 the first time in her dialogue with him, soft 
 emotion entered her voice. "An God be good 
 to you!" she said. She turned him almost 
 roughly. 
 
 "One moment," he said; "my love to my sis 
 ter oh, take care of her." His voice grew 
 lighter, then, and he almost smiled. "And tell 
 the mantilla blanca for me that she is beauti 
 ful and good!" He walked away. When a 
 second later, he glanced back over his shoulder, 
 she was making a rapid pace toward the dock- 
 gate.
 
 328 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 Rosalie passed the shadow of the pier, and 
 gained sight of the Maud s deck. She saw 
 Estrilla go aboard, saw Captain Baldwin meet 
 him, saw them enter the cabin together. She 
 waited no longer. 
 
 That was a day of heavy personal expense 
 for Rosalie. Two blocks away she took another 
 taxicab. This time she hesitated a moment be 
 fore she gave the driver his directions. 
 
 "Hotel Cyrano, Brooklyn, first, I guess." 
 
 After a time, she began talking under her 
 breath again repeating her last phrase to Es 
 trilla. 
 
 God be good to you God or somebody 
 will have to be awful good to me, now." Then 
 her thought turned, and so did her speech. 
 
 ; Tell the mantilla blanca she is beautiful 
 an smilin when he said it well, there s one 
 relievin feature, he won t break his heart over 
 Betsy-Barbara. It was only a flirtation with 
 him, after all. I wonder what they re made 
 of inside those high-class dagos !"
 
 CHAPTER XX 
 
 WHEN DIMPLES WIN 
 
 INSPECTOR MARTIN McGEE, as one 
 , who must do something, no matter how fu 
 tile, to lull his impatience, rang a bell on his 
 desk. 
 
 "Send for Grimaldi again," he said to the 
 doorman. 
 
 "Grimaldi," he greeted the scholar of the 
 Italian squad, "what did this Mrs. Le Grange 
 say to you when she let you go and just 
 when was it?" 
 
 "It was night before last," replied Grimaldi. 
 "I d met her for a report and told her that Es- 
 trilla or Perez had an engagement with his 
 tailor to try on some clothes for two-thirty 
 yesterday afternoon. She told me then that 
 she had finished with me, and I was to report 
 back to headquarters which I did yesterday. 
 I don t know why she called me off so sud 
 denly; maybe she thought I was spotted. 
 
 329
 
 330 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 She s a mysterious thing, and she never would 
 let me know what she was doing; but you in 
 structed me to obey her orders and ask no 
 questions." 
 
 "Yes, that s right," responded the Inspec 
 tor. "His rooms Estrilla s are being 
 watched in case he returns?" 
 
 "Yes. One man in the house and three 
 shadowing from the outside. We ve got some 
 one at every place where he s likely to ap 
 pear." 
 
 "All right. That will do." 
 
 But Grimaldi s curiosity got for the moment 
 the better of his sense of discipline. 
 
 "This Mrs. Le Grange," he said at the door, 
 "where is she, anyhow?" 
 
 "I wish I knew!" replied McGee. "I wish 
 I knew that will do, Grimaldi." Then the 
 Inspector fell to pacing the floor and to medita 
 ting. He had paced and meditated in this 
 fashion ever since eight o clock that morning. 
 He durst not leave his office. The search was 
 covered at every point where the missing crim 
 inal or the missing Rosalie Le Grange might 
 be expected to appear. Here, at headquar 
 ters, one would get the first news. He must
 
 WHEN DIMPLES WIN 331 
 
 stay in his office until oh, why had he trusted 
 Rosalie Le Grange to arrest a desperate crim 
 inal alone? For that Perez, alias Estrilla, 
 was a criminal, and the tale about apoplexy a 
 bizarre invention of desperation, Inspector Mc- 
 Gee, cynical by police habit, never once 
 doubted. One obvious suspicion did not. occur 
 to him; never for a moment did he distrust 
 Rosalie. She had gone out to make the ar 
 rest single-handed, for some good reason of her 
 own. She had failed, and dreaded to come 
 back without her man; she had been delayed 
 and would appear with him yet; she had ven 
 tured too much and something had happened 
 to her. Here, Inspector McGee smote a fist 
 into an open palm and swore under his breath. 
 That consideration, and not the failure of the 
 department to put the finishing touch on a big 
 case, was the thing which haunted him now, 
 made him unable to rest his body or to quiet 
 his mind. 
 
 The last eighteen hours had been one long 
 secret hunt for Juan Perez alias Estrilla, and 
 for Rosalie Le Grange. When, after the de 
 tectives finished with Miss Estrilla Senorita 
 Perez he found Rosalie Le Grange mysteri-
 
 332 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 ously gone, he waited for a time at the house. 
 Rosalie made no sign. Presently, Miss Hard 
 ing and Miss Jones came home to dinner, arid 
 afterward Professor Noll. McGee detained 
 them all. Seven o clock passed; and the other 
 three boarders failed, like the landlady, to ap 
 pear. They were Mr. North, Mrs. Hanska, 
 and Miss Lane all involved in the Hanska 
 case. When he noted this suspicious circum 
 stance, he removed Miss Estrilla to a private 
 room in the criminal ward at Bellevue. 
 Booked as Margaret Perez, she attracted no 
 great attention from the reporters; especially 
 since a surgeon, instructed in advance, gave out 
 a hint that she was merely a witness in a 
 counterfeiting case. Then began an all-night 
 search for Estrilla first, for Rosalie next, 
 and, last of all for North and the two women. 
 Late that night, Inspector McGee, clutching 
 at every possibility, visited Lawrence Wade in 
 his cell at the Tombs and questioned him. The 
 announcement that Mrs. Hanska had disap 
 peared seemed to disturb him more than any 
 device for breaking "silence that the police had 
 ever used; but still he maintained his attitude 
 of defiant and somewhat insolent calm. Un-
 
 WHEN DIMPLES WIN 333 
 
 shaken, he stood all the questioning; and Mc- 
 Gee, aware now of his innocence, had not the 
 heart to crowd him to the wall. 
 
 So the night had worn away; and so the 
 morning. And Rosalie Le Grange made no 
 sign. How long how long? A vision en 
 tered the mind of Inspector McGee a flash of 
 imagination compounded from many old ex 
 periences. Some day the Coroner would re 
 port a woman s body floating in the bay or 
 buried in a cellar. And that body he must 
 search the cellar under Estrilla s rooms. He 
 turned to ring for a detective. 
 
 The doorman entered. 
 
 "Mrs. Le Grange to see you," he said. 
 
 For the first time in his life of brute force, 
 Martin McGee felt his physical powers crum 
 bling and waning within him. He sat down at 
 his desk. Rosalie Le Grange had come. 
 That meant present success and ultimate tri 
 umph ; for Rosalie Le Grange had never failed 
 him yet. Doubtless she had achieved another 
 of her miracles possibly Juan Perez alias Es- 
 trilla was just behind her. 
 
 "Show her in and I m engaged don t dis 
 turb me for anything until I tell you."
 
 334 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 He expected her to appear with some of her 
 old bounce and gaiety. In the long half-min 
 ute before the door opened, he pictured that 
 entrance her face smiling, dimpled; her voice 
 vibrating as though with suppressed laughter; 
 her step a miracle of lightness and spring. 
 So he started as she stood for a moment facing 
 him. Dead of eye, dead of expression, dead 
 of tint she looked again all her age. She 
 moved toward him at a pace which showed ef 
 fort with every step. 
 
 "Well," he cried, "well! We ve had a chase 
 for you. Gee ! I couldn t think what had hap 
 pened 1" His professional concerns rushed into 
 his mind with the departure of his greater anxi 
 ety. "Where is he? Did you get him?" he 
 asked. 
 
 She had ignored the chair which he pushed 
 toward her. And she simply shook her head. 
 
 "What!" exclaimed Martin McGee. The 
 sharpness of his tone showed the depth of his 
 old trust in Rosalie. "What! That comes of 
 letting you try to get him alone. What a 
 damn fool did he get away from you?" 
 
 Rosalie, still looking into his eyes, shook her 
 head again.
 
 WHEN DIMPLES WIN 335 
 
 The change in Inspector McGee s face ex 
 pressed his emotion as clearly as though he had 
 spoken in volumes. His skin flushed ; his eyes 
 grew hard; his jaw snapped. 
 
 "You didn t?" 
 
 Again Rosalie shook her head. 
 
 "What do you mean what do you mean?" 
 
 "I let him go I helped him get away," said 
 Rosalie Le Grange. 
 
 "Well, by God!" cried Inspector McGee 
 "by God, we ll get him and you. Fool me, 
 will you and I d trusted you! If you think 
 you can beat a general alarm where s that 
 doorman" with another thought, his hand 
 went toward the battery of electric bells which 
 could summon armed men as from the ground. 
 But Rosalie caught his wrist. 
 
 "Wait!" she said, "if you ring that bell, you 
 shut me up for good. Do you think any little 
 police Third Degree can git anythin out of me 
 that I don t want to tell? Your one chance 
 to get the truth is to hear it now. The minute 
 anybody else comes into that door I close my 
 face. Take your hand away from there. Sit 
 down!" 
 
 His good sense reasserted itself; he obeyed.
 
 336 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 But still his face was red and hard. Then 
 though Inspector McGee was some minutes in 
 noting it consciously a change crossed the 
 countenance of Rosalie Le Grange. Little by 
 little, the life came back. One by one, the 
 lights of her began twinkling in mouth and 
 chin and dimples. And she spoke: 
 
 "Martin McGee, you re free to look for that 
 Perez man wherever you want. You won t 
 get him. You d stand a chance if you had just 
 him on the other side. But you ve got me, too. 
 An you know me ! Now, listen. Maybe this 
 is the last talk we ll ever have together, an I 
 want to put it straight. You re out to send 
 that boy to the electric chair, just like you d 
 send a piece of stove wood to be burned up in 
 the fire. You ain t thinkin about anythin 
 else. I know how you and the District At 
 torney would put it to the jury. He was com- 
 mittin burglary he stabbed his man he s a 
 dago with no pull that talk about apoplexy is 
 to laugh. But I ask you private do you 
 think he deserves it?" 
 
 "Well, that s the law, ain t it?" growled Mc 
 Gee. "That s what I m here for." 
 
 Rosalie s heart gave a little jump. But she
 
 WHEN DIMPLES WIN 387 
 
 controlled her expression. He was willing to 
 argue the case the first skirmish was won. 
 
 "The law!" exclaimed Rosalie. "That for 
 your law! Golly, I could carry a * Votes for 
 Women banner when I think about it! You 
 men have been makin the law all these years. 
 An you ve run it on rules nothin but rules. 
 Diagrams. Did he do it? All right, hang 
 him. You can t look at things except on the 
 outside. I wish you did have a few women to 
 look at em inside an out. Once in a while one 
 of your cussed juries uses its common sense an 
 lets a man go when the police evidence is 
 against him. But they don t do it themselves. 
 No, sir! It s their mothers in em " 
 
 "That will do," snarled McGee; "this suf 
 fragette dope has nothing to do with the case. 
 Where s Perez?" 
 
 "Now this Perez," pursued Rosalie, treat 
 ing the Inspector s anger as though it had not 
 been, "was a darn fool worst fool I ever saw 
 as those cute little men generally are. But 
 what was he doin when Hanska died? Get- 
 tin his own from a crook, the property that 
 belonged to him, in the only way he knew. 
 Suppose it s true he killed Captain Hanska
 
 338 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 did ever you see a man that deserved killin* 
 more? Besides, he didn t." 
 
 "You aren t swallowing that yarn about apo 
 plexy, are you?" asked Inspector McGee. 
 
 "In the first place," said Rosalie, "who 
 knows Margarita Perez better, you that 
 pumped her yesterday afternoon or me that 
 watched her for a month? Me that heard her 
 talk her soul out to her mother an her lover? 
 I tell you, she told the truth." 
 
 "Yes, and how did she know he died of apo 
 plexy? She wasn t there " 
 
 "She didn t know except on hearsay. But 
 I do." 
 
 "How?" 
 
 "Because, Martin McGee, just because. 
 That don t go down with you, though comin 
 from me it s the best reason that is. But this 
 ought to fix you, even. You know Cleary 
 I don t mean the sergeant, I mean the Coro 
 ner s physician that made the Hanska autopsy. 
 There s some Coroner s doctors I d trust my 
 life with as soon as any, but Cleary political 
 appointment you know. Do you think that 
 Cleary, when they handed him over a man 
 stabbed in the heart, looked any further into
 
 WHEN DIMPLES WIN 339 
 
 the cause? I m betting, though, that even 
 Cleary must have seen one thing which would 
 have meant something to anybody but a politi 
 cal doctor. I saw it that night. And this 
 Perez Estrilla fellow saw it." 
 
 "Oh, you ve talked to him then?" 
 
 "That ll come in later if you re still listenin 
 to me. Well, before he knew what I knew, 
 this Estrilla told me that Captain Hanska, 
 after he fell, was bleeding at the nose. I d 
 seen that, too when I came into the house 
 ahead of the doctor. Now here s the thing to 
 do," she added. "You call up that Dr. Cleary 
 right now. You see if he didn t notice it an* 
 just walk away from it " 
 
 Inspector McGee, with the air of one who 
 punctures bubbles, opened his .telephone. 
 
 "Spring double O," he said; and then to 
 Rosalie: "You can listen on the extension if 
 you want to." His voice was formal, and he 
 averted his eyes. 
 
 While they waited for the police central to 
 get the number, neither spoke. Rosalie, how 
 ever, regarded him with an expression whereof 
 the main tint was anxiety and the undertone 
 soft mischief.
 
 340 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 "Dr. Cleary?" inquired the Inspector, "In 
 spector McGee. Doctor have you your notes 
 on the Hanska case? The autopsy I mean. 
 In your pocket note-book? Well, just one 
 little thing. Did you find any blood on the 
 nostrils?" 
 
 "Here s the record," came back Dr. 
 deary s voice after a half -minute; "slight 
 bleeding from the nostril, caused probably by 
 the fall" 
 
 "That will do," said McGee "wait a sec 
 ond you didn t perform any autopsy on his 
 head? You didn t look into his brain?" 
 
 "What was the use?" came back Cleary s 
 voice, a little defiantly. "He was stabbed in 
 the heart, wasn t he?" 
 
 "Now who s lyin ?" said Rosalie Le Grange, 
 as she hung up the telephone. 
 
 But there was still a snarl in McGee s voice 
 as he spoke : 
 
 "You think you can monkey with the law! 
 You! You think you can set crooks loose just 
 as you please and get away with it ! It s all 
 very well for you, but look at the fix you re 
 leaving for me. The Hanska case is cleared 
 up. Wade is innocent. We ve had the wrong
 
 WHEN DIMPLES WIN 341 
 
 man all the time. That s joke enough on us. 
 But when we find the right one, he gives us 
 the slip. The Big Commissioner will get 
 roasted by the papers and hand it to the 
 Deputy Cornish, and the Deputy will pass the 
 buck down to me, and I ll have to report how 
 it happened. Yes, and I will, too!" he burst 
 out. "I ll tell, all right! Conniving at 
 escape. You know what that means ?" 
 
 "Is it a felony or a misdemeanor?" asked 
 Rosalie. "I sort of forgot which it was at the 
 time I committed it." 
 
 "You better worry," replied McGee. "I m 
 going to do my duty by you." 
 
 "Your duty! Yes, I forgot that. You al 
 ways do your duty. When a cop s involved, 
 for instance. When Leroy went blind drunk 
 and beat in the head of that boy you did your 
 duty in his case, like a little man. That s how 
 it comes Leroy s livin on Staten Island this 
 day, without once seein the inside of a State s 
 prison. Talk to me about duty !" 
 
 "Look here," said McGee, "you can t bluff 
 me." 
 
 "I know I can t," said Rosalie, "an* you can t 
 me, either."
 
 342 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 "Come, out with it then what have you 
 done and why did you do it?" 
 
 "As for what I ve done," said Rosalie, "tell- 
 in you would be spoilin it. Why did I do it ? 
 I ve answered that. I couldn t trust you or 
 any man alive to let that poor boy off. Apo 
 plexy? You snorted when his sister said it, 
 an you d be snortin now if you had him here 
 in front of you. They d laugh him out of 
 court on such a plea. They d laugh him to 
 the chair. I ve saved you the necessity of kill- 
 in an innocent man. An I ought to be 
 thanked, not kicked." 
 
 "You ll get worse," said Martin McGee; 
 "you ll go up that s what will happen to 
 you!" 
 
 "Now will I," mocked Rosalie, breaking out 
 her dimples, full-blazon, for the first time in 
 two days. "What an awful trick on a lady! 
 Especially when you ll have to do it yourself. 
 You re the only witness the only person who 
 knows that I promised to deliver Estrilla. 
 You re the only person that s heard me confess 
 I let him get away. So you ll be put on the 
 witness-stand, an then I ll be put on the stand. 
 An I ll testify how the New York police were
 
 WHEN DIMPLES WIN 343 
 
 baffled with the real criminals passin right 
 under their noses twenty times a day, an how 
 a poor boardin -house keeper that used to be a 
 medium jest a plain, good old soul took a 
 hairpin an a thimbleful of common sense an 
 got a confession an made you all fools. My 
 lawyer ll get it in; an if he don t, the papers 
 will, because I ll tell em. I ll be at home in 
 my cell to every reporter in New York. 
 There s a lot of em would like it right now. 
 But of course," she added, flashing her dimples, 
 "I won t try to bluff you. No, indeed. You 
 can t be bluffed. 
 
 "Marty McGee," she added, "let s git down 
 to cases. You can t do a thing to me that ll 
 help your position at all. I ll go to jail for 
 life an never tell where Juan Perez has gone. 
 But if you ll listen, I ll show you just how to 
 fix this without trouble for anybody." 
 
 Inspector McGee was now playing with a 
 flexible paper-knife, his downcast eyes fixed 
 upon it as he twisted it back and forth. 
 
 "How?" he asked in a voice from which the 
 bluster had gone. Nothing could have better 
 proved the logic in Rosalie s combination of 
 w r oman-wit and common sense.
 
 344 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 Rosalie established herself comfortably in 
 her chair. 
 
 "Well, it s a funny thing for us to do you 
 an me tell the truth. Not quite the truth, 
 either; the truth fixed up a little, which is the 
 best kind of a lie that is. Give out what hap 
 pened but say your own smartness cleared up 
 the case, not mine. Get Dr. Cleary to certify 
 that he found apoplexy at a more careful 
 autopsy, made after the Coroner s inquest, but 
 that he suppressed the report at the request of 
 the police. You can force him to do that to 
 save his skin ; his work is gittin careless enough 
 so s one more slip would make his political 
 backers drop him. Say the theory that a man 
 died of apoplexy, just when a knife was held 
 at his breast ready for him to fall on it, was so 
 strange an unusual that you couldn t believe 
 it in the beginnin . So you held Lawrence 
 Wade until you made sure. Say you suspected 
 Miss Estrilla Miss Perez from the first, an 
 learnin that she was superstitious, had her 
 worked by a police stool-pigeon who played at 
 bein a professional medium. Say your men 
 listened to the seances, an broke in at the end 
 an pulled the whole story out of her. An if
 
 345 
 
 that ain t awful near the truth, I never made 
 up a lie that was." 
 
 "I fail to see how that excuses us for letting 
 Estrilla Perez go," said Inspector McGee, 
 with a stir of sarcasm. 
 
 "That point," said Rosalie, "is the best thing 
 I ve thought out the very best. Up to the 
 confession that s our story you hadn t the 
 least idea but Miss Estrilla done it all herself. 
 We d never thought about their changin 
 clothes. An when you got the confession, you 
 sent out to arrest him, but he was gone prob 
 ably tipped off somehow. How, search me! 
 I haven t thought out a good lie there. May 
 be you ll have to invent that yourself. Other 
 wise it ll just be one of the mysteries of the 
 New York Police Department. Reprimand 
 you!. Why they ll give you a medal !" 
 
 McGee still looked down at the paper-knife. 
 
 "That ain t all," he said; "you fooled me, 
 that s what you did. You made a fool out of 
 me." 
 
 At this Rosalie fired. A light came into her 
 eyes that rolled ten years from her age the 
 light of anger. A color came into her cheeks 
 that took off another ten the pink of con-
 
 346 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 tempt. "Make a fool of you, Martin McGee ! 
 I only made a fool of one person. That s me, 
 Rosalie Le Grange. Who took all the risks 
 in this job? You? Not a bit of it! Me, 
 Rosalie. And what s more, Martin" she 
 paused and gulped; and something came into 
 her face that reduced her to a girl "who 
 did I do it for? Me, Rosalie? I guess not. 
 What was there in it for me ? When this tiling 
 broke, I was independent and living my own 
 life an a clean, self-respecting life. Do you 
 think I wanted to do it? Well, you can bet 
 not. I started this job mainly cause I didn t 
 want to see the fine young fellow Wade go to 
 the chair an because I didn t want to see that 
 beautiful young thing broken for life I mean 
 Constance Hanska. 
 
 "But after I got into it, I realized that I was 
 workin more for somebody else than I w r as for 
 them. And that somebody else was you, Mar 
 tin McGee. I d a given it up long ago if I 
 hadn t kept my mind on you. An I d become 
 fond of that sick Estrilla woman and of that 
 little brother of hers. But I went right on. 
 Do you suppose I like to do what I did to them? 
 Well, you never made a bigger mistake. I
 
 WHEN DIMPLES WIN 347 
 
 ain t what I used to be. When I brought back 
 her father and mother to trick that poor Miss 
 Estrilla, I just gagged. But after I found 
 that she wasn t guilty, nor him in a manner of 
 speaking I had to hand them a square deal 
 just like the rest. I d done everything I could 
 think of, Martin McGee but I couldn t kill 
 a man I liked and sympathized with, just to 
 help your career. An so I done the next best 
 thing. I fixed it so nobody would be involved 
 in it but me. I could have told you, an per 
 suaded you, maybe, that the right thing was 
 to let this Perez get away. But you d have 
 been my accomplice. You couldn t have gone 
 on the stand an sworn clean as you can now 
 that you had nothin to do with it. I kept 
 you out of it. I m here to take my medi 
 cine. I never whimpered yet, an I won t now. 
 An that, Martin McGee, is why I fooled 
 you!" 
 
 Never had words poured so fast from the lips 
 of Rosalie Le Grange. And as they poured, 
 many expressions chased across Inspector Mc- 
 Gee s clean-shaven police face. 
 
 "Is this the truth, Rose?" he said and 
 gulped. "Is it the truth?"
 
 348 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 "It s the truth if anybody ever told it," she 
 replied. 
 
 He was on his feet now ; she rose also. 
 
 "You re a wonder of the world," he said. 
 
 "I ve always maintained that!" she replied, 
 her old self dancing in her dimples. 
 
 Martin McGee who had never perceived that 
 an intelligent woman may look twenty and 
 forty in successive hours whose heavy police 
 mind, in short, had little skill to weigh finer 
 values knew not that love goes by contrasts, 
 that the Lord Archer smites never so surely 
 and certainly as in the moment when jealousy 
 or suspicion are departing. He never under 
 stood why his defenses fell all at once, why his 
 arms, working as though in defiance of his will, 
 encircled Rosalie Le Grange. 
 
 When, a month before, Martin so exploded 
 in her presence, Rosalie had wrenched herself 
 away. If she lay unresisting in his arms now, 
 it was because she had seen his face. And 
 Rosalie Le Grange knew above all things how 
 to read faces. She yielded her waist, but not 
 yet her lips. 
 
 "Martin," she asked softly, "is this on the 
 level?"
 
 WHEN DIMPLES WIN 349 
 
 "It s on the level, Rose. Rose, I don t care 
 ^ for anything. I want you to marry me!" 
 
 The doorkeeper had been told not to disturb 
 Inspector McGee. We will join the door 
 keeper. It seems more tactful. Let us merely 
 glance in on them ten minutes later. They 
 are seated again; and McGee is patting her 
 hand, ponderously but yet softly. Rosalie s 
 eyes, usually so big and grave in such contrast 
 with her smiles and her dimples are shining 
 as we have never seen them shine before. 
 
 "How did it come," asked Martin, "that you 
 could ever take to a great big cow of a fellow 
 like me?" 
 
 The mischief danced in her dimples. 
 
 "Because you are so big an mutton-headed!" 
 she said. Then the dimples went away, and 
 the eyes again reigned over her expression. 
 "Because you re a real man, Marty. Because 
 you ve plugged ahead and done things, an be 
 cause you re a brute, too, I guess. It ain t 
 good for a man to be too kind an smart. 
 That s for the woman that s my part in this 
 combination. An besides, the way your hair 
 grows in front is cute 
 
 "Aw, cut that out, Rosalie" this in a tone
 
 350 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 of infinite tenderness a tone as playful as 
 comports with the dignity of an Inspector. 
 
 And but we had better rejoin the door 
 man. 
 
 Only we should glance in just once more. 
 Inspector McGee, as though struck with a sud 
 den humorous idea, is saying: 
 
 "It s funny, Rosie here we ve got engaged 
 and I don t know your real name !" 
 
 "That s how I m sure you love me, Martin. 
 When folks are in love, they don t ask no ques 
 tions. Well, it s Rose Granger, if you ve got 
 to .know, born Smith. A widow sod, not 
 grass. I married Jim Granger. He was no 
 good, but I cared for him till he died. You ve 
 got thirty years or so because I sense we ll 
 both live long to listen to what Jim Granger 
 did to me. We ve other things to talk about 
 first. Marty, you haven t given me an en 
 gagement present." 
 
 "You ll get a diamond solitaire as soon as I 
 can beat it up-town!" said Martin. 
 
 "Somethin else first. I want you to fix it 
 so the New York Police Department makes an 
 awful bluff at findin Juan Perez an never 
 looks in the right place."
 
 WHEN DIMPLES WIN 351 
 
 "I guess I can promise that," laughed In 
 spector McGee. Less than a half an hour be 
 fore, he had been talking about his duty; but 
 one s ideas of duty vary according to the shift 
 ing lights of circumstances. 
 
 "An for a weddin present," pursued Rosa 
 lie, "I guess you can see that this poor sister 
 never gets put through." 
 
 "That s easy, too," replied McGee. "Say 
 now that everything is fixed up, where s that 
 Estrilla-Perez person, anyhow? What did 
 you do with him?" 
 
 "That information is goin to be my weddin 
 present to you," responded Rosalie Le Grange.
 
 CHAPTER XXI 
 
 t 
 
 TAKING STOCK 
 
 * * T T OW S this head-line for that stocking 
 A A job?" asked Tommy North, sud 
 denly looking up from his writing, " Mountain 
 Climbers Wear Our Hose And Come Back 
 Without a Hole ?" 
 
 "Pretty good," replied Betsy-Barbara from 
 her corner by the typewriter. "Now get the 
 rest of it." She resumed her furious little stabs 
 at the keys. 
 
 The sudden conclusion of the Hanska case 
 left Betsy-Barbara afloat. She could not go 
 back to Arden if she would, and she would not 
 if she could. It was her whim to remain in 
 New York; but the select young ladies semi 
 naries of the metropolis hesitated to employ a 
 young woman who had figured so consistently 
 on the front pages of the yellow newspapers. 
 Between trips in search of employment, Bet 
 sy-Barbara continued to typewrite the corre- 
 
 352
 
 TAKING STOCK 353 
 
 spondence of the Thomas W. North Agency. 
 Tommy, indeed, had offered her regular em 
 ployment as his clerk. She spurned that offer, 
 holding it to be mere gratitude. When she 
 had learned the trade, she said, she might ac 
 cept a position as typist, and not a minute be 
 fore. Betsy-Barbara was vastly improved in 
 technique. She could draft a passable circular 
 letter in not more than three attempts and 
 twenty-five minutes. 
 
 Tommy, unruffled by her businesslike re 
 minder, continued to view Betsy-Barbara. 
 Presently the pencil dropped from his hand. 
 He turned in his swivel chair and called: "Bet 
 sy-Barbara!" in a tone wholly inappropriate to 
 office hours. 
 
 Being a woman, she caught it. 
 
 "Tommy North," she said, without looking 
 up from the keys, "read me that motto over 
 your desk!" 
 
 Business Thoughts in Business Hours, 
 read Tommy, obediently. 
 
 "Well, what does that mean?" asked Betsy- 
 Barbara. And she continued to write, "re 
 spectfully solicit your patronage for the Thom 
 as W. North Agency." At least, that is
 
 354 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 what she thought she was writing. As a mat 
 ter of fact, what she produced was this : 
 
 respec fully silicityour patrona nage for teh 
 2Thomasw North agency." 
 
 "But what I want to talk about now," re 
 plied Tommy in a wheedling tone, "is a matter 
 of business. I ve been taking stock. This 
 fine-going concern made last month a hundred 
 and fifty dollars above light, rent, office ex 
 penses and overhead charges. That revolver 
 contract and that beauty-parlor deal are as 
 good as permanent. By Christmas we ll be 
 making a hundred dollars a week." 
 
 "You ll be making," corrected Betsy-Bar 
 bara as she jerked back the typewriter car 
 riage to begin the struggle with another line. 
 
 "That s the point of these remarks. You 
 ought" he paused here "you ought to have 
 a share." 
 
 "If you ll kindly turn your eyes to the panel 
 beside the door," said Betsy-Barbara, "you ll 
 see a card which reads Business is Business. 
 The idea of talking partnership to a mere sten 
 ographer who hasn t learned her trade!" 
 
 "That isn t fair. You always put me in
 
 TAKING STOCK 355 
 
 the wrong, somehow. You know you re re 
 sponsible for the whole thing. Who made me 
 start this concern? Who got me to cut out 
 the booze and go into business for myself?" 
 
 "Well," replied Betsy-Barbara, "a tract or 
 a preacher might have done that anything 
 which set you on the right way at the right 
 time. And you wouldn t think of offering a 
 partnership to a tract or a preacher." 
 
 "Betsy-Barbara!" called Tommy again. 
 And on that name, uttered all too gently for 
 the address of a stern employer to an inexpert 
 stenographer, he rose and crossed to her side. 
 Somehow she did not protest although she 
 continued to look down on the keys. Her 
 fingers stopped. 
 
 Tommy gulped; and his first words, as he 
 settled on the stool at her side, were far from 
 his original intention and further still from 
 strict business. 
 
 "Betsy-Barbara why did you play around 
 with that poor devil of an Estrilla?" 
 
 "If I wanted to be impertinent, I d ask how 
 that concerns you," replied Betsy-Barbara, 
 saucily. "Well because I liked him, I sup 
 pose."
 
 356 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 "You didn t like him too well?" inquired 
 Tommy. 
 
 "Of course not now, I m just sorry for 
 him," she replied. Then, as though duty 
 drove, she picked up an eraser and began furi 
 ously to eradicate a figure "2" which she had 
 printed for a quotation mark. 
 
 "Do you remember," Tommy pursued, "the 
 last time I got drunk the last time I ever 
 will?" 
 
 "The shoe-buckle night? Yes." She re 
 sumed typewriting with furious energy and 
 utterly incommensurate results. But even the 
 noise of the typewriter could not silence 
 Tommy now. And when she came to the end 
 of the line, she stopped again. 
 
 "You never knew why, of course!" said 
 Tommy. "Do you remember some one coming 
 into the front hall and going right out again? 
 That was I. You were sitting I saw you 
 looking at him I thought " 
 
 "You didn t think right," responded Betsy- 
 Barbara. She paused while the truth in her 
 struggled against woman s instinct to use strat 
 egy in that branch of human activity which 
 is woman s chief business. The truth won.
 
 TAKING STOCK 357 
 
 "That s funny. You saw me when I was 
 nearer well, liking him than I ever was be 
 fore or after. He was a dear. You couldn t 
 help being amused and flattered by him but 
 nothing else." 
 
 "Why didn t you like him really what held 
 you back?" 
 
 Betsy-Barbara pulled over the carriage for 
 another line not with a jerk this time, but 
 slowly and softly. At the same languid pace, 
 she resumed striking the keys. 
 
 "Do you call this business?" she asked but 
 very weakly. 
 
 Tommy North laid a hand upon hers, stilling 
 the keys under her fingers. 
 
 "Betsy-Barbara, this is business. I was 
 talking partnership. I didn t mean that kind. 
 You know oh, blazes I meant why did I 
 brace up and go to work, anyhow? It was 
 because you I love you there, that s out!" 
 
 Betsy-Barbara, her hand still helpless be 
 tween the keys and his greater hand, raised 
 her face. If she had shone before with elfin 
 light, she shone now with the light of many 
 angels. The sheen and glitter of her hair, the 
 fire of her eyes, the sparkle of her little teeth
 
 358 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 behind her parted lips all the glory which 
 makes stars and systems and beasts and the 
 generations of men illuminated and trans 
 formed Betsy-Barbara. An instant so, and 
 that light faded. The elfin light shone again. 
 And 
 
 "Tommy North," she said, "are you pro 
 posing to me right in business hours? Get 
 back to your seat ! Your answer will be trans 
 mitted to you in business form." 
 
 There was hope and yet wonderment in 
 Tommy s face as he obeyed. Betsy-Barbara 
 tweaked the sheets from the roller, inserted a 
 new page, and began to type very fast for 
 her. She finished. She was suffused with 
 color as she drew out the page and laid it 
 on Tommy s desk. He turned to read; and 
 Betsy-Barbara s hand brushed his cheek ever 
 so lightly. 
 
 mR Thomas WNorth; 
 dear sir; 
 
 Your pro positiin is accepted 
 and I trust tha t the ensuig partnership will be 
 long adn prosperous yurs sincerelly 
 
 ElizabethLane.
 
 TAKING STOCK 359 
 
 "Business forms must be maintained even 
 in this solemn and awful moment," said Betsy- 
 Barbara. 
 
 "Well, there s one thing about being a high 
 cop that s worth while," remarked Martin Mc- 
 Gee, "y u certainly do get swell attention in a 
 lobster palace." 
 
 Inspector McGee, in his dinner coat and his 
 diamonds, sat in the preferred corner farth 
 est from the music. Rosalie, reigning oppo 
 site in two thousand dollars worth of dia 
 monds, eight hundred dollars worth of clothes, 
 three hundred dollars worth of massage, and 
 a hundred dollars worth of hair-dressing and 
 hat, followed with smiling eyes a wave of agi 
 tation which ran from waiter to waiter until 
 it broke at the door, in a spray of Italian- 
 Swiss-French gestures, against the head waiter 
 and majordomo. The lady with Inspector 
 McGee, the lady whom he brought regularly 
 so an excited waiter-captain explained to 
 his chief had complained of a tainted clam. 
 It was frightful, terrific, the head waiter re 
 plied. Some one must suffer. Inspector Mc 
 Gee might never come again. Some morning
 
 360 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 after hours the bar would be raided. Mdche! 
 Accident e! 
 
 When McGee had condescended to accept 
 apologies, he resumed to Rosalie: 
 
 "I don t even have to pay for my New- 
 year s Eve table reservations. That s what 
 it is being a cop!" 
 
 Rosalie dropped her pink right hand on her 
 pinker left one, and fell to playing with a 
 new diamond solitaire that dimmed for size 
 and luster all her other jewels. Her dimples 
 threw back an answering flash. 
 
 "Enjoy it while you can, Marty," she said. 
 "It won t be long. * 
 
 Even yet, Inspector McGee reflected, Ro 
 salie Le Grange had surprises for him. He 
 did not realize, for he was no seer of the fu 
 ture, that she would be giving him just such 
 surprises all his life long. 
 
 "What s new with you this time?" he in 
 quired, smiling indulgently. 
 
 "Nothin with me," replied Rosalie, "only 
 I m breakin the news to you. Inspector is 
 as high up as a policeman can get. Your 
 days on the force are numbered, Martin Mc 
 Gee. An I haven t made up my mind yet,"
 
 TAKING STOCK 361 
 
 she added, dimpling now not on the diamonds, 
 but on him, "whether to make you Democratic 
 boss of the State Senate, or just leader of 
 Tammany Hall!" 
 
 That day was raw November, with a wet 
 sticky suggestion of rain in the air. From the 
 colonial piazza, where Constance stood, wait 
 ing, the grounds rolled away cold and naked 
 to the great double gate. A cluster of bare 
 elms hid the farther reaches of the walk from 
 her view. He who was coming would ap 
 proach unobserved until he was almost upon 
 her. In the whirl and perturbation of her 
 spirit, she found herself thankful for that. 
 Whatever happened, it would come sud 
 denly. 
 
 Rosalie Le Grange and every one else most 
 vitally concerned in the Wade-Hanska case 
 had considered it best that she, the too-ro 
 mantic heroine of these events, should be in 
 hiding when Lawrence Wade came out of the 
 Tombs, a free man. One must consider the 
 newspapers always the newspapers, with 
 their photographers, their special writers, their 
 insistence on the "human interest" features of
 
 362 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 this celebrated case. So even before Captain 
 McGee flashed to the headquarters reporters 
 that Margarita Perez, detained in the criminal 
 ward at Bellevue Hospital, was the solvent of 
 the Hanska case, Rosalie removed her secretly 
 to this friendly country place near Arden. 
 Days followed in which the reporters tracked 
 Lawrence Wade at all hours in order to dis 
 cover him in the act of meeting Constance. 
 In that period, he scarcely dared write, lest 
 the address on an envelope might betray her 
 whereabouts. Now, in the general march of 
 events, the interest in the Hanska case had 
 become dulled. And to-day, in this very hour, 
 he was coming with what message on his 
 lips? 
 
 In the distance sounded the whistle of a lo 
 comotive ; a column of white smoke rose above 
 the bare trees. She glanced at the watch on 
 her wrist. This was his train. In five min 
 utes he would emerge to view from behind 
 that clump of trees. In five minutes, she 
 would know. 
 
 Or would she? The hopes, the fears, the 
 sick fancies of a week s waiting whirled in her 
 mind. She leaned against one of the pillars
 
 TAKING STOCK 363 
 
 for support, while she went over everything 
 again. 
 
 She knew her heart now irrevocably. But 
 he? From the moment when the tragedy 
 came, he had said no word, no single little 
 word, which meant love. In their visiting 
 through the bars of the Tombs, he had done 
 everything to keep up her spirits. He had 
 been incredibly gay, unbelievably tender. He 
 had behaved as though she were the afflicted 
 and he the comforter. He had joked when 
 she knew that his laughter only cloaked a hell 
 of impatience and suppressed apprehension. 
 When her courage seemed about to break, he 
 had put new spirit in her through the excess 
 of bravery in his own great heart. But never 
 once had he renewed the declaration which he 
 made long ago, before the trouble came, before 
 he knew her story. 
 
 Was it honor with him or was it something 
 else? How far he would go for honor s sake, 
 she knew best of all. It was like him to re 
 fuse the consolation of her love at a time when 
 a tender from him might mean only shame 
 for her. But did he love her still? Suppose 
 that she had become to him only the incarnate
 
 364 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 symbol of his trouble? Suppose that the 
 thought of her, now, only renewed those medi 
 tations on shameful death which must have 
 haunted his nights in prison? Such things, 
 she knew, had happened must happen. 
 
 Then there was one more aspect of his honor 
 to reckon with. Would he not feel that he 
 had compromised her in the eyes of the world? 
 Loathing her as the cause of his sorrows, would 
 he not consider it his duty to offer his own life 
 in expiation? How would she know how 
 would she ever know? 
 
 She must wait and dissemble. She must 
 hold herself very even and calm. She must be 
 cordial and friendly and a little distant, as she 
 used to be in the gray days before the black 
 ones. She must smother her heart until some 
 sign 
 
 A step crackled on the dried leaves about 
 the turn of the path. From about one of the 
 bare brown trunks appeared a man s figure. 
 And at the sight, a very calm of indifference 
 settled over the spirit of Constance. So the 
 devotee who has anticipated the sacrament 
 through nights and days of raptures finds 
 herself, as the priest approaches, without a
 
 TAKING STOCK 365 
 
 ripple of emotion; so the coward, who has 
 shivered through eternities of agony at the 
 thought of the ax, finds himself incapable of 
 thought or feeling or action in the presence of 
 the headsman. She simply leaned against the 
 pillar, her soul as blank as her eyes. 
 
 He was a tall man and stalwart, with a 
 fine resolute jaw and straight blue eyes which 
 were dancing now with a feverish light. At 
 the sight of the figure by the pillar, a flush had 
 come into his face; but apart from the two 
 spots of color which it made, his skin was very 
 pale. Lines, new-creased in his young skin, 
 ran backward from his eyes. 
 
 His step quickened as he perceived her, but 
 he said no word. Now he had come so close 
 that he might almost touch her; and she, still 
 leaning against the pillar, moved neither hand 
 nor tongue nor eye. He stood close beside her 
 on the piazza and 
 
 "Forever 1" he said. 
 
 Constance swayed forward into his out 
 stretched waiting arms.
 
 CHAPTER XXII 
 
 HAPPY EVER AFTER 
 
 Senor Juan Perez, 
 
 Peralta, 
 Argentine Republic, 
 
 South America. 
 
 Dear Friend: 
 
 Received your letter last month and was 
 glad to hear that everything is going well 
 with you. Thank you for the picture. I see 
 you re just as handsome as ever. If you wear 
 those clothes all the time, though, your laundry 
 bills must be something fierce. Both Martin 
 and I are glad you re doing so fine in a busi 
 ness way. I knew you would, once you set 
 tled down guess the jolt helped you. Trou 
 ble with you at the start was, you went up 
 against the big game too soon. But I am 
 most pleased to hear that your sister is be 
 ginning to get kinder in her feelings to me. 
 Lord knows, everything I did was for the best. 
 
 366
 
 HAPPY EVER AFTER 367 
 
 Am also glad to hear that her health is good 
 and she is getting stout. I bet she s as hand 
 some as a picture, now she hasn t anything 
 on her mind. 
 
 In regard to a certain event three years 
 ago, would say that it s all blowed over. 
 Marty still drops in at headquarters a good 
 deal, and I had him look it up. He says it 
 would be perfectly safe for a certain party 
 to go back to Port of Spain, though he wouldn t 
 advise visiting this land of the free and the 
 home of the brave for quite some time. Not 
 that he expects anything would happen but 
 it s best to be on the safe side. 
 
 Well, Martin and I are getting on fine. He 
 comes up for reelection in November fact is 
 we re campaigning now and it looks like a 
 sure thing. Martin still thinks I m the smart 
 est and prettiest in the world, and I take care 
 that he won t get on to me but oh, my dear, 
 my massage bills are something fierce I We 
 just live in a whirl. Seems like we re never 
 both home to dinner unless we have company. 
 Marty is going ahead so fast I m afraid he ll 
 be President of the United States before I ve 
 learned enough law to run this country. We
 
 368 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 go to church regular in our own district. 
 I m getting so careful with my grammar that 
 I almost never talk like I want to, except when 
 Martin and I are alone. 
 
 Now as regards friends of yours and mine, 
 I ll tell you all the news I ve got. Do you 
 remember that Miss Harding in the boarding- 
 house? She s Marty s stenographer now, and 
 a mighty good one. We re so afraid she ll 
 get married sometime, and Marty will lose her. 
 Miss Jones is married lives somewhere up 
 Yonkers way. Mrs. Moore has gone over to 
 Jersey to keep house for an old uncle. Guess 
 she expects some money from him when he 
 dies. Poor Professor Noll broke down last 
 winter and was in the hospital for a month. I 
 knew it was coming no human stomach could 
 stand those slop victuals. I went to see him 
 as often as I could and talked to him like 
 a mother. Well, he s eating his steaks and 
 chops now as regular as the day comes round. 
 He s very much interested in a new fancy kind 
 of religion it s called "The Thought of the 
 Age." I can t seem to get the hang of it 
 but the point is that if everybody would get 
 together and think the same thought all the
 
 HAPPY EVER AFTER 369 
 
 time for a piece why, something s going to 
 happen. I guess likely. 
 
 Betsy-Barbara and Mr. North live in a little 
 house on Long Island, and Mr. North com 
 mutes. He s making so much money he says 
 he s ashamed of it. They have twin boys, and 
 if ever I saw limbs well, Betsy-Barbara is on 
 the jump all the time keeping them from com 
 mitting fifty-seven varieties of murder and 
 suicide they ve thought out for themselves. 
 Martin says he s glad he s given up his old 
 job, for it certainly would be up to him to get 
 them both "life" some day. But I notice he s 
 ready to go over there every time we re in 
 vited, and he spends the whole time playing 
 with those youngsters. 
 
 The Wades are still abroad. Their little 
 daughter was born in Florence. Mrs. Wade 
 nearly died, but she didn t mind that child, 
 judging by the pictures they ve sent, is a per 
 fect little angel. Mrs. Wade says her name 
 is Betsy-Barbara and she s the apple of her 
 father s eye. They ll come back next spring. 
 
 Well, I guess that s about all. I gave 
 Marty your invitation, but he says he can t 
 $ee time ahead to take a long vacation. If we
 
 370 THE RED BUTTON 
 
 ever can, we ll come down there and visit you 
 with great pleasure. And so, with love to 
 your sister and best wishes to yourself, in 
 which my husband joins me, I remain, 
 
 Yours truly, 
 ROSALIE McGEE, 
 New York, 
 
 October 2, 19 . 
 
 THE END
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY 
 
 Los Angeles 
 This book is DUE on the last date stamped below.
 
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