THE BANDBOX 
 
 LOUIS JOSEPH VANCE
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 THE BANDBOX
 
 BY LOUIS JOSEPH VANCE 
 
 THE BANDBOX 
 CYNTHIA-OF-THE-MINOTE 
 No MAN'S LAND 
 THE FOKTUNE HUNTER 
 THE POOL OF FLAME 
 THE BRONZE BELL 
 THE BLACK BAG 
 THE BRASS BOWL 
 THE PRIVATE WAH 
 TERENCE O'RotraKE
 
 "Now, sir!" she exclaimed, turning 
 
 FRONTISPIECE. See Page 83
 
 The Bandbox 
 
 BY LOUIS JOSEPH VANCE 
 
 Author of "The Brass Bowl," "The Bronze Bell," 
 '^Cynthia-of-the-Minute." etc. 
 
 WITH FOUR ILLUSTRATIONS 
 BY ARTHUR I. KELLER 
 
 A. L. BURT COMPANY 
 
 PUBLISHERS NEW YORK
 
 Copyright, 1911, 1912, 
 Br Louis JOSEPH VANCE. 
 
 All rights reserved, including those of translation into foreign 
 languages, including the Scandinavian 
 
 Published, April, 1912 
 Reprinted, April, 1912 (three tunes)
 
 fS 
 
 3SA3 
 
 TO 
 
 LEWIS BUDDY III
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTBB PAOB 
 
 I INTRODUCING MR. IFF 1 
 
 II THE BANDBOX 14 
 
 III TWINS . 26 
 
 IV QUEENSTOWN 43 
 
 V ISMAY? 65 
 
 VI IFF? 87 
 
 VII STOLE AWAY! 109 
 
 VIII THE WRONG Box 128 
 
 IX A LIKELY STORY 158 
 
 X DEAD O' NIGHT 177 
 
 XI THE COLD GREY DAWN 194 
 
 XII WON'T You WALK INTO MY PARLOUR? . 216 
 
 XIII WRECK ISLAND 233 
 
 XIV THE STRONG-BOX 254 
 
 XV THE ENEMY'S HAND 275 
 
 XVI NINETY MINUTES 295 
 
 XVII HOLOCAUST . 312
 
 THE BANDBOX 
 
 INTRODUCING MR. IFF 
 
 \T half -past two of a sunny, sultry afternoon late 
 L JL in the month of August, Mr. Benjamin Staff sat 
 at table in the dining-room of the Authors' Club, 
 moodily munching a morsel of cheese and a segment of 
 cast-iron biscuit and wondering what he must do to 
 be saved from the death-in-life of sheer ennui. 
 
 A long, lank gentleman, surprisingly thin, of a slightly 
 saturnine cast: he was not only unhappy, he looked 
 it. He was alone and he was lonely; he was an Ameri 
 can and a man of sentiment (though he did n't look 
 that) and he wanted to go home; to sum up, he found 
 himself in love and in London at one and the same time, 
 and felt precisely as ill at ease in the one as in the other 
 of these, to him, exotic circumstances. 
 
 Inconceivable as it may seem that any rational man 
 should yearn for New York in August, that and noth 
 ing less was what Staff wanted with all his heart. 
 He wanted to go home and swelter and be swindled
 
 2 THE BANDBOX 
 
 by taxicab drivers and snubbed by imported head- 
 waiters; he wanted to patronise the subway at peril 
 of asphyxiation and to walk down Fifth Avenue at 
 that witching hour when electric globes begin to dot 
 the dusk of evening pale moons of a world of steel 
 and stone; he wanted to ride in elevators instead of 
 lifts, in trolley-cars instead of trams; he wanted to 
 go to a ball-game at the Polo Grounds, to dine dressed 
 as he pleased, to insult his intelligence with a roof- 
 garden show if he felt so disposed, and to see for him 
 self just how much of Town had been torn down in 
 the two months of his exile and what they were going 
 to put up in its place. He wanted, hi short, his own 
 people; more specifically he wanted just one of them, 
 meaning to marry her if she 'd have him. 
 
 Now to be homesick and lovesick all at once is a 
 tremendously disturbing state of affairs. So influenced, 
 the strongest men are prone to folly. Staff, for in 
 stance, had excellent reason to doubt the advisability 
 of leaving London just then, with an unfinished play 
 on his hands; but he was really no more than a mere, 
 normal human being, and he did want very badly to 
 go home. If it was a sharp struggle, it was a short 
 one that prefaced his decision. 
 
 Of a sudden he rose, called for his bill and paid it, 
 called for his hat and stick, got them, and resolutely
 
 INTRODUCING MR. IFF 3 
 
 yet with a furtive air, as one who would throw a 
 dogging conscience off the scent fled the premises 
 of his club, shaping a course through Whitehall and 
 Charing Cross to Cockspur Street, where, with the 
 unerring instinct of a homing pigeon, he dodged has 
 tily into the booking-office of a steamship company. 
 
 Now Mystery is where one finds it, and Romantic 
 Adventure is as a rule to be come upon infesting the 
 same identical premises. Mr. Staff was not seeking 
 mysteries and the last role in the world in which he 
 could fancy himself was that of Romantic Adventurer. 
 But in retrospect he can see quite clearly that it was 
 there, in the humdrum and prosaic setting of a steam 
 ship booking-office, that he first stumbled (all unwit 
 tingly) into the toils of his Great Adventure. 
 
 When he entered, there was but one other person on 
 the outer or public side of the booking-counter; and 
 he, sticking close in a far corner and inaudibly con 
 ferring with a clerk, seemed so slight and unpre 
 tending a body that Staff overlooked his existence 
 altogether until circumstances obliged him to recog 
 nise it. 
 
 The ignored person, on the other hand, showed an 
 instant interest in the appearance of Mr. Staff. You 
 might have thought that he had been waiting for the 
 latter to come hi absurd as this might seem, in view
 
 4 THE BANDBOX 
 
 of the fact that Staff had made up his mind to book for 
 home only within the last quarter-hour. None the 
 less, on sight of him this other patron of the company, 
 who had seemed till then to be of two minds as to what 
 he wanted, straightened up and bent a freshened inter 
 est on the cabin-plot which the clerk had spread out 
 upon the counter for his advisement. And a moment 
 after Staff had audibly stated his wishes, the other 
 prodded a certain spot of the chart with a thin and 
 fragile forefinger. 
 
 " I '11 take this one," he said quietly. 
 
 " Upper 'r lower?" enquired his clerk. 
 
 "Lower." 
 
 "Then-Q," said the clerk. . . . 
 
 Meanwhile Staff had caught the eye of an impreg 
 nable young Englishman behind the counter; and, 
 the latter coming forward, he opened negotiations with 
 a succinct statement: 
 
 " I want to book on the Autocratic, sailing tomorrow 
 from Liverpool, if I 'm not mistaken." 
 
 "Quite so," said his clerk, not without condescen 
 sion. " For yourself, may I awsk ? " 
 
 "For myself alone." 
 
 "Then-Q." The clerk fetched a cabin-plot. 
 
 "I'm afraid, sir," he said, removing a pencil from 
 behind his ear the better to make his meaning clear,
 
 INTRODUCING MR. IFF 5 
 
 "there's not much choice. It's quite late to book, you 
 know; and this is the rush season for westbound traffic; 
 everything's just about full up." 
 
 "I understand; but still you can make room for me 
 somewhere, I hope." 
 
 "Oh, yes. Quite so, indeed. It's only a question of 
 what you'd like. Now we have a cabine de luxe " 
 
 "Not for me," said Staff firmly. 
 
 "Then-Q. . . . The only other accommodation 
 I can offer you is a two-berth stateroom on the 
 main-deck." 
 
 "An outside room?" 
 
 "Yes, sir. You can see for yourself. Here it is: 
 berths 432 and 433. You '11 find it quite cosy, I 'm 
 sure." 
 
 Staff nodded, eyeing the cubicle indicated by the 
 pencil-point. 
 
 " That '11 do," said he. " I '11 take it." 
 
 " Then-Q. Upper 'r lower berth, sir ? " 
 
 "Both," said Staff, trying not to look conscious 
 and succeeding. 
 
 "Both, sir?" in tones of pained expostulation. 
 
 "Both!" reiterated in a manner that challenged 
 curiosity. 
 
 "Ah," said the clerk wearily, "but, you see, I thought 
 I understood you to say you were alone."
 
 6 THE BANDBOX 
 
 "I did; but I want privacy." 
 
 "I see. Then-Q." as who should say: Another 
 mad Amayrican. 
 
 With this the clerk took himself off to procure a 
 blank ticket. 
 
 While he waited, Staff was entertained by snatches 
 of a colloquy at the far end of the counter, where 
 the other patron was being catechised as to his pedigree 
 by the other booking-clerk. What he heard ran some 
 thing to the following effect: 
 
 "What did you say the name was, sir ?" 
 
 "rename?" 
 
 "If you please " 
 
 "What name?" 
 
 "Your name, sir." 
 
 "I did n't say, did I?" 
 
 "No, sir." 
 
 "Ah! I thought not." 
 
 Pause; then the clerk, patiently: "Do you mind 
 giving me your name, sir, so that I may fill in your 
 ticket?" 
 
 "I'd r'ally rather not; but seein' as it's you and 
 you make a point of it Iff." 
 
 Pause. . . . "Beg pardon?" 
 
 "Iff." 
 
 "If what, sir?"
 
 INTRODUCING MR. IFF 7 
 
 "I-double-F, Iff: a name, not a joke. I-F-F 
 William Howard Iff. W. H. Iff, Whiff: joke." 
 
 "Ow-w?" 
 
 "But you need n't laugh." 
 
 With dignity: "I was not intending to laugh, sir." 
 
 Staff could hardly refrain from refreshing himself 
 with a glance at the individual so singularly labelled. 
 Appraising him covertly, he saw a man whose stature 
 was quite as much shorter than the normal as his own 
 was longer, but hardly less thin. Indeed, Staff was hi 
 the habit of defining his own style of architecture as 
 Gothic, and with reasonable excuse; but reviewing 
 the physical geography of Mr. Iff, the word emacia 
 tion bobbed to the surface of the literary mentality: 
 Iff was really astonishingly slight of build. Otherwise 
 he was rather round-shouldered; his head was small, 
 bird-like, thinly thatched with hah* of a faded tow 
 colour; his face was sensitively tinted with the faintest 
 of flushes beneath a skin of natural pallor, and wore 
 an expression curiously naive and yet shrewd an 
 effect manufactured by setting the eyes of a child, round 
 and dimly blue, in a mask of weathered maturity. 
 
 Now while Staff was receiving this impression, Mr. 
 Iff looked sharply round; their glances crossed. Pri 
 marily embarrassed to be caught rudely staring, Staff 
 was next and thoroughly shocked to detect a distinct
 
 8 THE BANDBOX 
 
 if momentary eclipse of one of Mr. Iff's pale blue eyes. 
 Bluntly, openly, deliberately, Mr. Iff winked at Mr. 
 Staff, and then, having accomplished his amazement 
 and discomfiture, returned promptly, twinkling, to 
 the baiting of his clerk. 
 
 "Your age, sir?" 
 
 Mr. Iff enquired in simple surprise: "Do you really 
 care to know ? " 
 
 "It's required, sir, by the " 
 
 "Oh, well if I must! But, mind you, strictly as 
 man to man: you may write me down a freeborn 
 American citizen, entitled to vote and more'n half 
 white." 
 
 "Beg pardon?" 
 
 "I say, I am an adult " 
 
 "Oh!" The clerk wrote; then, bored, resumed: 
 "Married or single, please?" 
 
 "I'm a spinster " 
 
 "O-w?" 
 
 "Honestly neither married nor unmarried." 
 
 " Then-Q " resignedly. " Your business ? " 
 
 But here Staff's clerk touched the exasperated cate- 
 chist on the shoulder and said something inaudible. 
 The response, while equally inaudible, seemed to con 
 vey a sense of profound personal shock. Staff was 
 conscious that Mr. Iff's clerk glanced reproachfully in
 
 INTRODUCING MR. IFF 9 
 
 his direction, as if to suggest that he wouldn't have 
 believed it of him. 
 
 Divining that he and Mr. Iff were bargaining for the 
 same accommodations, Staff endeavoured to assume an 
 attitude of distinguished obliviousness to the entire 
 proceeding; and would have succeeded but for the 
 immediate and impatient action of Mr. Iff. 
 
 That latter, seizing the situation, glanced askance at 
 dignified Mr. Staff, then smiled a whimsical smile, 
 cocked his small head to one side and approached him 
 with an open and ingenuous ah*. 
 
 " If it 's only a question of which berth," said he, " I 'm 
 quite willing to forfeit my option on the lower, Mr. 
 Staff." 
 
 That gentleman started and stared. 
 
 "Oh, lord, man I" said Iff tolerantly "as if your 
 portrait had n't been published more times than you 
 can remember! as if all the world were unaware of 
 Benjamin Staff, novelist 1" 
 
 There was subtle flattery hi this; and flattery (we 
 are told) will warm the most austere of authors 
 which Staff was not. He said "Oh!" and smiled his 
 slow, wry smile; and Mr. Iff, remarking these symptoms 
 of a thaw with interest and encouragement, pressed 
 his point. 
 
 "I don't mind an upper, really only chose the
 
 10 THE BANDBOX 
 
 lower because the choice was mine, at the moment. 
 If you prefer it " 
 
 "The trouble is," Staff interrupted, "I want the 
 whole room." 
 
 "Oh! . . . Friend with you?" 
 
 "No; but I had some notion of doing a little work on 
 the way over." 
 
 "Writing? I see. But if that's all !" Mr. Iff 
 routed a negligible quibble with an airy flirt of his 
 delicate hand. "Trust me; you'll hardly ever be 
 reminded of my existence I'm that quiet. And 
 besides, I spend most of my time in the smoking-room. 
 And I don't snore, and I'm never seasick. . . . By 
 the way," he added anxiously, "do or are you?" 
 
 "Never" 
 
 " Then we '11 get along famously. I '11 cheerfully take 
 the upper, and even should I tumble out on top of you, 
 you'd never know it: my weight is nothing hardly 
 that. Now what d' you say? Is it a go ? " 
 
 "But I don't know you " 
 
 "Business of making a noise like an Englishman!" 
 commented Mr. Iff with bitter scorn. 
 
 " well enough to accept such a favour from you. 
 I'll take second choice myself the upper, I mean." 
 
 "You won't; but we'll settle that on shipboard," 
 said Mr. Iff promptly. "As for knowing me busi-
 
 INTRODUCING MR. IFF 11 
 
 ness of introducing myself. Mr. Staff, I want you to 
 shake hands with my friend, Mr. Iff. W. H. Iff, Whiff: 
 sometimes so-called: merry wheeze based on my 
 typographical make-up; once a joke, now so grey with 
 age I generally pull it myself, thus saving new acquaint 
 ances the mental strain. Practical philanthropy 
 what ? Whim of mine." 
 
 "Indeed?" 
 
 "Believe me. You've no notion how folks suffer in 
 the first throes of that giddy pun. And then when it 
 falls flat naturally / can't laugh like a fool at it 
 any longer blooie!" said Mr. Iff with expression 
 "like that blooie! they do feel so cheap. Where 
 fore I maintain I do humanity a service when I beat 
 it to that moth-eaten joke. You follow me ? " 
 
 Staff laughed. 
 
 "Then it's all settled. Good 1 We shan't be in one 
 another's way. You'll see." 
 
 "Unless you talk in your sleep, too." 
 
 Mr. Iff looked unspeakable reproach. "You'll 
 soon get accustomed to me," he said, brightening 
 "won't mind my merry prattle any more'n the song of 
 a giddy humming-bird." 
 
 He turned and saw their booking-clerks in patient 
 waiting behind the counter. "Ah, there you are, eh? 
 Well, it 'sail settled. ..."
 
 12 THE BANDBOX 
 
 Thus was the thing accomplished. 
 
 And shortly thereafter these two paused in parting 
 at the door. 
 
 "Going my way?" enquired Mr. Iff. 
 
 Staff named whatever destination he had in mind. 
 
 "Sony. I go t'other way. Take care of yourself. 
 See you tomorrow." 
 
 " Good-bye," said Staff, and took himself briskly off. 
 
 But Mr. Iff did not at once go in the opposite direc 
 tion. In fact, he moved no more than a door or two 
 away, and then stopped, apparently fascinated by an 
 especially stupid shop-window show. 
 
 He had very quick eyes, had Mr. Iff, so alert and 
 observant that they had made him alive to a circum 
 stance which had altogether escaped Staff's notice a 
 trifling incident that took place just as they were on 
 the point of parting. 
 
 While still they were standing in the doorway, a 
 motor-cab, plunging down Haymarket, had swooped 
 in a wide curve as if meaning to pull in at the curb in 
 front of the steamship company's office. The cab 
 carried a solitary passenger a remarkably pretty 
 young woman and on its roof a remarkably large 
 and ornate bandbox. 
 
 It was, in fact, the bandbox which had first fixed the 
 interest of Mr. Iff. Only an introspective vision, indeed,
 
 INTRODUCING MR. IFF 13 
 
 such as that of the imaginative and thoughtful Mr. 
 Staff, could have overlooked the approach of a band 
 box so big and upstanding, so profusely beflowered and 
 so prominently displayed. 
 
 Now before the cab could stop, its fare, who had been 
 bending forward and peering out of the window as if 
 anxious to recognise her destination, started still far 
 ther forward, seized the speaking-tube and spoke into 
 its mouthpiece in a manner of sharp urgency. And 
 promptly the driver swerved out from the curb and 
 swung his car away down Pall Mall. 
 
 If it was mere inquisitiveness that held Mr. Iff rooted 
 to the spot, gaping at that uninteresting window show, 
 it served to discover him in the guise of an admirably 
 patient person. Fully fifteen minutes elapsed before 
 the return of the motor-cab was signalled unmistakably 
 by the blatant bandbox bobbing back high above the 
 press of traffic. And when this happened, Mr. Iff found 
 some further business with the steamship company, 
 and quietly and unobtrusively slipped back into the 
 booking-office. 
 
 As he did so the cab stopped at the curb and the 
 pretty young woman jumped out and followed Mr. Iff 
 across the threshold noticing him no more than 
 had Mr. Staff, to begin with.
 
 II 
 
 THE BANDBOX 
 
 IN the playhouses of France, a hammering on the 
 stage alone heralds the rising of the curtain to dis 
 close illusory realms of romance. Precisely so with Mr. 
 Staff, upon the door of whose lodging, at nine o'clock 
 the next morning, a knocking announced the first 
 overt move against his peace of mind. 
 
 At that time, Staff, all unconscious of his honourable 
 peril, was standing in the middle of the floor of the 
 inner room (his lodgings comprised two) and likewise 
 in the approximate geographical centre of a chaotic 
 assemblage of assorted wearing apparel and other 
 personal impedimenta. 
 
 He was wondering, confusedly, how in thunderation 
 he was to manage to cram all that confounded truck 
 into the limited amount of trunk space at his command. 
 He was also wondering, resentfully in the names of a 
 dozen familiar spirits, where he had put his pipe: it's 
 simply maddening, the way a fellow's pipe will persist 
 in getting lost at such critical times as when he's 
 
 14
 
 THE BANDBOX 15 
 
 packing up to catch a train with not a minute to 
 spare. ... In short, so preoccupied was Staff that 
 the knocking had to be repeated before he became 
 objectively alive to it. 
 
 Then, confidentially, he said: "What the devil now?" 
 
 In louder tones calculated to convey an impression 
 of intense impatience, he cried: "Come in!" 
 
 He heard the outer door open, and immediately, 
 upon an impulse esoteric even in his own understanding, 
 he chose to pretend to be extravagantly busy as 
 busy as by rights he should have been. For a minute 
 or longer he acted most vividly the part of a man madly 
 bent on catching his train though he were to perish of 
 the attempt. And this despite a suspicion that he 
 played to a limited audience of one, and that one un- 
 appreciative of the finer phases of everyday histrionic 
 impersonation: an audience answering to the name of 
 Milly, whose lowly station of life was that of housemaid- 
 in-lodgings and whose imagination was as ill-nourished 
 and sluggish as might be expected of one whose wages 
 were two-and-six a week. 
 
 Remembering this in time, the novelty of make- 
 believe palled on Staff. Not that alone, but he could 
 hear Milly insisting in accents not in the least apolo 
 getic: "Beg pardon, sir . . . " 
 
 He paused in well-feigned surprise and looked enquir-
 
 16 THE BANDBOX 
 
 ingly over his shoulder, as though to verify a surmise 
 that somebody had spoken. Such proving to be the 
 case, he turned round to confront Milly Milly true 
 to type, wearing a grimy matutinal apron, an expres 
 sion half sleepy, half sullen, and a horrid soot smudge 
 on her ripe, red, right cheek. 
 
 In this guise (so sedulously does life itself ape the 
 conventions of its literature and drama) Milly looked 
 as lifelike as though viewed through the illusion of 
 footlights. Otherwise, as Staff never failed to be grati 
 fied to observe, she differed radically from the stock 
 article of our stage. For one thing, she refrained from 
 dropping her ditches and stumbling over them on her 
 first entrance in order merely to win a laugh and so 
 lift her little role from the common rut of "lines" to 
 the dignity of "a bit." For another, she seldom if 
 ever brandished that age-honoured wand of her office, 
 a bedraggled feather-duster. Nor was she by any means 
 in love with the tenant of the fust-floor-front. 
 
 But though Staff was grateful for Milly because of 
 this strong and unconventional individuality of hers, 
 he wasn't at all pleased to be interrupted, and he made 
 nothing whatever of the ostensible excuse for the inter 
 ruption; the latter being a very large and brilliantly 
 illuminated bandbox, which Milly was offering him in 
 pantomime.
 
 THE BANDBOX 17 
 
 "It have just come," said Milly calmly, in response 
 to his enquiring stare. "Where would you wish me to 
 put it, sir?" 
 
 "Put what?" 
 
 Milly gesticulated eloquently with the bandbox. 
 
 "That thing?" said Staff with scorn. 
 
 "Yessir." 
 
 "I don't want you to put it anywhere. Take it 
 away." 
 
 "But it's for you, sir." 
 
 " Impossible. Some mistake. Please don't bother 
 just take it away. There 's a good girl." 
 
 Milly's disdain of this blandishment was plainly 
 visible in the added elevation of her already sufficiently 
 tucked-up nose. 
 
 "Beg pardon, sir," she persisted coldly, "but it's 
 got your nime on it, and the boy as left it just no\r 
 asked if you lived here." 
 
 Staff's frown portrayed indignation, incredulity and 
 impatience. 
 
 " Mistake, I tell you. I have n't been buying any 
 millinery. Absurd 1 ' ' 
 
 "Beg pardon, sir, but you can see as it's addressed 
 to you." 
 
 It was : the box being held out for examination, Staff 
 saw plainly that it was tagged with a card inscribed in
 
 18 THE BANDBOX 
 
 fashionably slapdash feminine handwriting with what 
 was unquestionably the name and local address of 
 Benjamin Staff, Esq. 
 
 Because of this, he felt called upon to subject the box 
 to more minute inspection. 
 
 It was nothing more nor less than the everyday 
 milliners' hat-box of commerce: a capacious edifice of 
 stout pasteboard neatly plastered with wall-paper in 
 whose design narrow stripes of white alternated with 
 aggressive stripes of brown, the whole effectively setting 
 off an abundance of purple blossoms counterfeiting no 
 flower known to botanists. And one gibbous side was 
 further decorated with bold black script advertising 
 the establishment of its origin. 
 
 "Maison Lucille, New Bond Street, West," Staff read 
 aloud, completely bewildered. "But I never heard of 
 the d the place!" 
 
 Helplessly he sought Milly's eyes, and helpfully 
 Milly rose to the occasion. 
 
 "Nossir," said she; and that was all. 
 
 "I know nothing whatever about the thing," Staff 
 declared severely. " It 's all a mistake. Take it 
 away it '11 be sent for as soon as the error 's 
 discovered." 
 
 A glimmer of intelligence shone luminous in Milly's 
 eyes. "Mebbe," she suggested under inspiration of
 
 THE BANDBOX 19 
 
 curiosity "Mebbe if you was to open it, you'd find 
 a note or or something." 
 
 " Bright girl ! " applauded Staff. " You open it. I 'm 
 too busy packing up no time " 
 
 And realising how swiftly the golden minutes were 
 fleeting beyond recall, he cast desperately about for 
 his pipe. 
 
 By some miracle he chanced to find it, and so resumed 
 packing. 
 
 Behind him, Milly made noises with tissue-paper. 
 
 Presently he heard a smothered "O sir!" and looked 
 round to discover the housemaid in an attitude of 
 unmitigated adoration before what he could not deny 
 was a perfect dream of a hat the sort of a hat that 
 only a woman or a society reporter could do justice to. 
 In his vision it bore a striking resemblance to a Gains 
 borough with all modern improvements as most 
 big hats do to most men. Briefly, it was big and black 
 and trimmed with an atmosphere of costly simplicity, 
 a monstrous white "willow" plume and a huge buckle 
 of brilliants. It impressed him, hazily, as just the 
 very hat to look ripping on an ash-blonde. Aside from 
 this he was aware of no sensation other than one of 
 aggravated annoyance. 
 
 Milly, to the reverse extreme, was charmed to dis 
 traction, thrilled to the core of her and breathless
 
 20 THE BANDBOX 
 
 though by no means dumb. Women are never dumb 
 with admiration. 
 
 "O sir!" she breathed in ecstasy "it's a real 
 creashun!" 
 
 "Daresay," Staff conceded sourly. "Did you find 
 a note?" 
 
 " And the price-tag, sir it says twen-ty five pounds ! " 
 
 "I hope there's a receipted bill, then. . . . Do 
 you see anything remotely resembling a note or 
 something ? " 
 
 With difficulty subduing her transports "I'll see, 
 sir," said Milly. 
 
 Grunting with exasperation, Staff bent over a trunk 
 and stuffed things into it until Milly committed her 
 self to the definite announcement: "I don't seem to 
 find nothing, sir." 
 
 "Look again, please." 
 
 Again Milly pawed the tissue-paper. 
 
 "There ain't nothing at all, sir," she declared finally. 
 
 Staff stood up, thrust his hands into his pockets and 
 champed the stem of his pipe scowling. 
 
 "It is a bit odd, sir, isn't it? having this sent to 
 you like this and you knowing nothing at all about 
 it!" 
 
 Staff said something indistinguishable because of the 
 obstructing pipe-stem.
 
 THE BANDBOX 21 
 
 "It's perfectly beautiful, sir a won'erful hat, 
 really." 
 
 "The devil fly away with it I" 
 
 "Beg pardon, sir?" 
 
 "I said, I'm simply crazy about it, myself." 
 
 "Oh, did you, sir?" 
 
 "Please put it back and tie it up." 
 
 "Yessir." Reluctantly Milly restored the creation 
 to its tissue-paper nest. "And what would you wish 
 me to do with it now, sir?" she resumed when at 
 length the ravishing vision was hidden away. 
 
 " Do with it ? " stormed the vexed gentleman. " I 
 don't care what the d ickens you do with it. It is n't 
 my hat. Take it away. Throw it into the street. 
 Send it back to the place it came from. Give it 
 ... or, wait!" 
 
 Pausing for breath and thought, he changed his mind. 
 The hat was too valuable to be treated with disrespect, 
 no matter who was responsible for the mistake. Staff 
 felt morally obligated to secure its return to the Maison 
 Lucille. 
 
 "Look here, Milly ..." 
 
 "Yessir?" 
 
 "I'll just telephone . . . No! Hah* a minute!" 
 
 He checked, on the verge of yielding to an insane 
 impulse. Being a native of New York, it had been his
 
 22 THE BANDBOX 
 
 instinctive thought to call up the hat-shop and demand 
 the return of its delivery-boy. Fortunately the in 
 stinct of a true dramatist moved him to sketch hastily 
 the ground-plot of the suggested tragedy. 
 
 In Act I ( Time: the Present) he saw himself bearding 
 the telephone in its lair that is, in the darkest and 
 least accessible recess of the ground-floor hallway. In 
 firm, manful accents, befitting an intrepid soul, he 
 details a number to the central operator and meekly 
 submits to an acidulated correction of his Amurrikin 
 accent. 
 
 Act II (fifteen minutes have elapsed) : He is clinging 
 desperately to the receiver, sustained by hope alone 
 while he attends sympathetically to the sufferings of 
 an English lady trying to get in communication with 
 the Army and Navy Stores. 
 
 Act III (ten minutes later) : He has exhausted him 
 self grinding away at an obsolete rotary bell-call. 
 Abruptly his ears are enchanted by a far, thin, frigid 
 moan. It says: "Are you theah?" Responding sav 
 agely "NO!" he dashes the receiver back into its hook 
 and flings away to discover that he has lost both train 
 and steamer. Tag line: For this is London in the 
 Twentieth Century. Curtain: End of the Play. . . . 
 
 Disenchanted by consideration of this tentative 
 synopsis, the playwright consulted his watch. Already
 
 THE BANDBOX 23 
 
 the incident of the condemnable bandbox had eaten 
 up much invaluable time. He would see himself doomed 
 to unending perdition if he would submit to further 
 hindrance on its behalf. 
 
 "Milly," said he with decision, "take that . . . 
 thing down-stairs, and tell Mrs. Gigg to telephone the 
 hat-shop to call for it." 
 
 "Yessir." 
 
 "And after that, call me a taxi. Tell it to wait. 
 I'll be ready by ten or know " 
 
 Promptly retiring, Milly took with her, in addition 
 to the bandbox, a confused impression of a room whose 
 atmosphere was thick with flying garments, in the 
 wild swirl of which a lanky lunatic danced weirdly, 
 muttering uncouth incantations. . . . 
 
 Forty minutes later (on the stroke of ten) Mr. Staff, 
 beautifully groomed after his habit, his manner (su 
 perbly nonchalant) denying that he had ever known 
 reason why he should take a single step in haste, fol 
 lowed his trunks down to the sidewalk and, graciously 
 bidding his landlady adieu, presented Milly with a 
 keepsake in the shape of a golden coin of the realm. 
 
 A taxicab, heavy-laden with his things, fretted before 
 the door. Staff nodded to the driver. 
 
 "Euston," said he; "and a shilling extra if you drive 
 like sin."
 
 24 THE BANDBOX 
 
 "Right you are, sir." 
 
 In the act of entering the cab, Staff started back 
 with bitter imprecations. 
 
 Mrs. Gigg, who had not quite closed the front door, 
 opened it wide to his remonstrant voice. 
 
 "I say, what's this bandbox doing in my cab? I 
 thought I told Milly " 
 
 "Sorry, sir; I forgot," Mrs. Gigg interposed "bein* 
 that flustered " 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 "The woman what keeps the 'at-shop said as 'ow 
 the 'at wasn't to come back, sir. She said a young 
 lidy bought it yestiddy ahfternoon and awsked to 'ave 
 it sent you this mornin' before nine o'clock." 
 
 "The deuce she did!" said Staff blankly. 
 
 "An' the young lidy said as 'ow she'd write you a 
 note explynin'. So I tells Milly not to bother you no 
 more abaht it, but put the 'at-box in the keb, sir 
 wishin' not to 'inder you." 
 
 " Thoughtful of you, I 'm sure. But did n't the ah 
 woman who keeps the hat-shop mention the name of 
 the ah person who purchased the hat?" 
 
 By the deepening of its corrugations, the forehead of 
 Mrs. Gigg betrayed the intensity of her mental strain. 
 Her eyes wore a far-away look and her lips moved, at 
 first silently. Then "I ain't sure, sir, as she did
 
 THE BANDBOX 25 
 
 mme the lidy, but if she did, it was somethin' like 
 Burnside, I fancy or else Postlethwayt." 
 
 "Nor Jones nor Brown? Perhaps Robinson? Think, 
 Mrs. Gigg! Not Robinson?" 
 
 " I 'm sure it may 'ave been eyether of them, sir, now 
 you puts it to me pl'm." 
 
 "That makes everything perfectly clear. Thank 
 you so much." 
 
 With this, Staff turned hastily away, nodded to his 
 driver to cut along, and with groans and lamentations 
 squeezed himself into what space the bandbox did not 
 demand of the interior of the vehicle.
 
 Ill 
 
 TWINS 
 
 ON the boat-train, en route for Liverpool, Mr. 
 Staff found plenty of time to consider the affair 
 of the foundling bandbox in every aspect with which a 
 lively imagination could invest it; but to small profit. 
 In fact, he was able to think of little else, with the 
 damned thing smirking impishly at him from its perch 
 on the opposite seat. He was vexed to exasperation 
 by the consciousness that he could n't guess why or by 
 whom it had been so cavalierly thrust into his keeping. 
 Consequently he cudgelled his wits unmercifully in 
 exhaustive and exhausting attempts to clothe it with 
 a plausible raison d'etre. 
 
 He believed firmly that the Maison Lucille had 
 acted in good faith; the name of Staff was too distinc 
 tive to admit of much latitude for error. Nor was it 
 difficult to conceive that this or that young woman of 
 his acquaintance might have sent him the hat to take 
 home for her thus ridding herself of a cumbersome 
 package and neatly saddling him with all the bother 
 of getting the thing through the customs. But . . . !
 
 TWINS 27 
 
 Who was there in London just then that knew him 
 well enough so to presume upon his good nature? None 
 that he could call to mind. Besides, how in the name 
 of all things inexplicable had anybody found out his 
 intention of sailing on the Autocratic, that particular 
 day ? something of which he himself had yet to be 
 twenty-four hours aware ! 
 
 His conclusions may be summed up under two heads: 
 (a) there was n't any answer; (b) it was all an unmiti 
 gated nuisance. And so thinking, divided between 
 despair and disgust, Mr. Staff gave the problem up 
 against his arrival on board the steamship. There 
 remained to him a single gleam of hope: a note of 
 explanation had been promised; he thought it just 
 possible that it might have been sent to the steamship 
 rather than to his lodgings in London. 
 
 Therefore, the moment he set foot aboard the ship, 
 he consigned his hand-luggage to a steward, instructing 
 the fellow where to take it, and hurried off to the 
 dining-saloon where, upon a table round which passen 
 gers buzzed like flies round a sugar-lump, letters and 
 telegrams for the departing were displayed. But he 
 could find nothing for Mr. Benjamin Staff. 
 
 Disappointed and indignant to the point of suppressed 
 profanity, he elbowed out of the thronged saloon just 
 in time to espy a steward (quite another steward: not
 
 28 THE BANDBOX 
 
 him with whom Staff had left his things) struggling up 
 the main companionway under the handicap of several 
 articles of luggage which Staff did n't recognise, and 
 one which he assured himself he did: a bandbox as 
 like the cause of all his perturbation as one piano-case 
 resembles another. 
 Now if quite out of humour with the bandbox and 
 
 all that appertained thereunto, the temper of the young 
 
 \ 
 man was such that he was by no means prepared to 
 
 see it confiscated without his knowledge of consent. 
 In two long strides he overhauled the steward, plucked 
 him back with a peremptory hand, and abashed him 
 with a stern demand: 
 
 "I say! where the devil do you think you 're going, 
 my man?" 
 
 His man showed a face of dashed amazement. 
 
 "Beg pardon, sir ! Do you mean me? " 
 
 "Most certainly I mean you. That's my bandbox. 
 What are you doing with it ? " 
 
 Looking guiltily from his face to the article in ques 
 tion, the steward flushed and stammered culpability 
 incarnate, thought Staff. 
 
 "Your bandbox, sir?" 
 
 " Do you think I 'd go charging all over this ship for 
 a silly bandbox that was n't mine ? " 
 
 "But, sir "
 
 29 
 
 "I tell you, it's mine. It's tagged with my name. 
 Where 's the steward I left it with?" 
 
 "But, sir," pleaded the accused, "this belongs to 
 this lidy 'ere. I 'm just tikin' it to 'er stiteroom, sir." 
 
 Staff's gaze followed the man's nod, and for the first 
 time he became aware that a young woman stood a 
 step or two above them, half turned round to attend to 
 the passage, her air and expression seeming to indicate 
 a combination of amusement and impatience. 
 
 Precipitately the young man removed his hat. 
 Through the confusion clouding his thoughts, he both 
 foreglimpsed humiliation and was dimly aware of a 
 personality of force and charm: of a well-poised figure 
 cloaked in a light pongee travelling-wrap; of a face 
 that seemed to consist chiefly in dark eyes glowing 
 lambent in the shadow of a wide-brimmed, flopsy hat. 
 He was sensitive to a hint of breeding and reserve in 
 the woman's attitude; as though (he thought) the con 
 tretemps diverted and engaged her more than he did 
 who was responsible for it. 
 
 He addressed her in a diffident and uncertain voice: 
 "I beg pardon. . . ." 
 
 "The box is mine," she affirmed with a cool and 
 even gravity. "The steward is right." 
 
 He choked back a counterclaim, which would have 
 been unmannerly, and in his embarrassment did some-
 
 30 THE BANDBOX 
 
 thing that he instantly realised was even worse, ap 
 proaching downright insolence in that it demanded 
 confirmation of her word: he bent forward and glanced 
 at the tag on the bandbox. 
 
 It was labelled quite legibly with the name of Miss 
 Eleanor Searle. 
 
 He coloured, painfully contrite. "I'm sorry," he 
 stammered. "I ah happen to have with me the 
 precise duplicate of this box. I didn 't at first realise 
 that it might have a ah twin." 
 
 The young woman inclined her head distantly. 
 
 "I understand," she said, turning away. "Come, 
 steward, if you please." 
 
 " I 'm very sorry very," Staff said hastily in intense 
 mortification. 
 
 Miss Searle did not reply; she had already resumed 
 her upward progress. Her steward followed, openly 
 grinning. 
 
 Since it is not considered good form to kick a steward 
 for knowing an ass when he meets one, Staff could no 
 more than turn away, disguise the unholy emotions 
 that fermented in his heart, and seek his stateroom. 
 
 " It had to be me ! " he groaned. 
 
 Stateroom 432-433 proved to be very much occupied 
 when he found it chiefly, to be sure, by the band 
 box, which took up most of the floor space. Round it
 
 TWINS 31 
 
 were grouped in various attitudes of dejection sundry 
 other pieces of travelling-gear and Mr. Iff. The latter 
 was sitting on the edge of the lower berth, his hands in 
 his pockets, his brow puckered with perplexity, his 
 gaze fixed in fascination to the bandbox. On Staff's 
 entrance he looked up. 
 
 "Hello !" he said crisply. 
 
 "Afternoon," returned Staff with all the morose 
 dignity appropriate to severely wounded self-esteem. 
 
 Iff indicated the bandbox with a delicate gesture, 
 
 "No wonder," he observed mildly, "you wanted the 
 ship to yourself." 
 
 Staff grunted irritably and, picking his way through 
 and over the mound of luggage, deposited himself on 
 the transom opposite the berths. 
 
 "A present for the missis, I take it ? " pursued Iff. 
 
 " You might take it, and welcome, for all of me. . . . 
 Only it is n't mine. And I am not married." 
 
 "Pardon!" murmured Mr. Iff. "But if it isn't 
 yours," he suggested logically, "what the deuce-and- 
 all is it doing here ? " 
 
 "I'm supposed to be taking it home for a friend." 
 
 "Ah! I see. ... A very, very dear friend, of 
 course. . . . ?" 
 
 " You 'd think so, would n't you ? " Staff regarded 
 the bandbox with open malevolence. "If I had my
 
 32 THE BANDBOX 
 
 way," he said vindictively, "I'd lift it a kick over the 
 side and be rid of it." 
 
 "How you do take on, to be sure," Iff commented 
 placidly. "If I may be permitted to voice my inmost 
 thought: you seem uncommon' peeved." 
 
 "lam." 
 
 " Could I soothe your vexed soul in any way ? " 
 
 "You might tell me how to get quit of the blasted 
 thing." 
 
 "I'll try, if you'll tell me how you got hold of it." 
 
 "Look here!" Staff suddenly aroused to a percep 
 tion of the fact that he was by way of being artfully 
 pumped. "Does this matter interest you very much 
 indeed?" 
 
 "No more, apparently, than it annoys you. . . . 
 And it is quite possible that, in the course of time, we 
 might like to shut the door. . . . But, as far as that 
 is, I don't mind admitting I 'm a nosey little beast. 
 If you feel it your duty to snub me, my dear fellow, by 
 all means go to it. I don't mind and I dessay I 
 deserve it." 
 
 'This proved irresistible; Staff's humour saved his 
 temper. To the twinkle in Iff s faded blue eyes he 
 returned a reluctant smile that ended in open laughter. 
 
 "It 's just this way," he explained somewhat to his 
 own surprise, under the influence of an unforeseen
 
 TWINS 33 
 
 gush of liking for this good-humoured wisp of a man 
 " I feel I 'm being shamelessly imposed upon. Just as 
 I was leaving my rooms this morning this hat-box was 
 sent to me, anonymously. I assume that some cheeky 
 girl I know has sent it to me to tote home for her. It 's 
 a certificated nuisance but that is n't all. There 
 happens to be a young woman named Searle on board, 
 who has an exact duplicate of this infernal contrap 
 tion. A few moments ago I saw it, assumed it must 
 be mine, quite naturally claimed it, and was properly 
 called down in the politest, most crushing way imagin 
 able. Hence this headache." 
 
 " So ! " said Mr. Iff. " So that is why he does n't love 
 his dear little bandbox! ... A Miss Earle, I think 
 you said ? " 
 
 "No Searle. At least, that was the name on her 
 luggage." 
 
 "Oh Searle, eh?" 
 
 "You don't happen to know her, by any chance?" 
 Staff demanded, not without a trace of animation. 
 
 "Who? Me? Nothing like that," Iff disclaimed 
 hastily. 
 
 "I just thought you might," said Staff, disap 
 pointed. 
 
 For some moments the conversation languished. 
 Then Staff rose and pressed the call-button.
 
 34 THE BANDBOX 
 
 "What 'sup? "asked Iff. 
 
 " Going to get rid of this," said Staff with an air of 
 grim determination. 
 
 "Just what I was going to suggest. But don't do 
 anything hasty anything you'll be sorry for." 
 
 "Leave that to me, please." 
 
 From his tone the assumption was not unwarrantable 
 that Staff had never yet done anything that he had 
 subsequently found cause to regret. Pensively pun 
 ishing an inoffensive wrist, Iff subsided. 
 
 A steward showed himself in the doorway. 
 
 "You rang, sir?" 
 
 "Are you our steward?" asked Staff. 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 "Your name?" 
 
 "Orde, sir." 
 
 " Well, Orde, can you stow this thing some place out 
 of our way ? " 
 
 Orde eyed the bandbox doubtfully. " I dessay I can 
 find a plice for it," he said at length. 
 
 "Do, please." 
 
 "Very good, sir. Then-Q." Possessing himself of 
 the bandbox, Orde retired. 
 
 "And now," suggested Iff with much vivacity, 
 " s'pose we unpack and get settled." 
 
 And they proceeded to distribute their belong-
 
 TWINS 35 
 
 ings, sharing the meagre conveniences of their quar 
 ters with the impartiality of courteous and experienced 
 travellers. . . . 
 
 It was rather late in the afternoon before Staff found 
 an opportunity to get on deck for the first time. The 
 hour was golden with the glory of a westering sun. 
 The air was bland, the sea quiet. The Autocratic had 
 settled into her stride, bearing swiftly down St. George's 
 Channel for Queenstown, where she was scheduled to 
 touch at midnight. Her decks presented scenes of 
 animation familiar to the eyes of a weathered voyager. 
 
 There was the customary confusion of petticoats and 
 sporadic displays of steamer-rugs along the ranks of 
 deck-chairs. Deck-stewards darted hither and yon, 
 wearing the harassed expressions appropriate to per 
 sons of their calling doubtless to a man praying for 
 that bright day when some public benefactor should 
 invent a steamship having at least two leeward sides. 
 A clatter of tongues assailed the ear, the high, sweet 
 accents of American women predominating. The 
 masculine element of the passenger-list with singu 
 lar unanimity like birds of prey wheeling in ever 
 diminishing circles above their quarry drifted im 
 perceptibly but steadily aft, toward the smoking-room. 
 The two indispensable adjuncts to a successful voyage 
 had already put in their appearance: item, the Pest,
 
 36 THE BANDBOX 
 
 an overdressed, overgrown, shrill-voiced female-child, 
 blundering into everybody's way and shrieking im 
 pertinences; item, a short, stout, sedulously hilarious 
 gentleman who oozed public-spirited geniality at every 
 pore and insisted on buttonholing inoffensive strangers 
 and demanding that they enter an embryonic deck- 
 quoit tournament in short, discovering every known 
 symptom of being the Life and Soul of the Ship. 
 
 Staff dodged both by grace of discretion and good 
 fortune, and having found his deck-chair, dropped into 
 it with a sigh of content, composing himself for rest 
 and thought. His world seemed very bright with 
 promise, just then; he felt that, if he had acted on 
 impetuous impulse, he had not acted unwisely: only a 
 few more hours then the pause at Queenstown* 
 then the brief, seven-day stretch across the Atlantic 
 to home and Alison Landis ! 
 
 It seemed almost too good to be true. He all but 
 purred with his content in the prospect. 
 
 Of course, he had a little work to do, but he did n't 
 mind that; it would help immensely to beguile the 
 tedium of the voyage; and all he required in order to 
 do it well was the moral courage to shut himself up for 
 a few hours each day and to avoid as far as possible 
 social entanglements. . . . 
 
 At just about this stage in his meditations he was
 
 TWINS 37 
 
 somewhat rudely brought back to earth or, more 
 properly, to deck. 
 
 A voice shrieked excitedly: "Why, Mr. Staff!" 
 
 To be precise, it miscalled him "Stahf": a shrill, 
 penetrating, overcultivated, American voice making 
 an attempt only semi-successful to cope with the broad 
 vowels of modern English enunciation. 
 
 Staff looked up, recognised its owner, and said be 
 neath his breath : " O Lord ! " his soul crawling with 
 recognition. But nothing of this was discernible in the 
 alacrity with which he jumped up and bent over a bony 
 but bedizened hand. 
 
 "Mrs. Ilkington !" he said. 
 
 "R'ally," said the lady, "the world is ve-ry small, 
 is n't it?" 
 
 She was a lean, angular, inordinately vivacious body 
 whose years, which were many more than forty, were 
 making a brave struggle to masquerade as thirty. She 
 was notorious for her execrable taste in gowns and 
 jewelry, but her social position was impregnable, and 
 her avowed mission in life was to bring together Society 
 (meaning the caste of money) with the Arts (meaning 
 those humble souls content to sell their dreams for the 
 wherewithal to sustain life). 
 
 Her passion for bromidioms always stupefied Staff 
 left him dazed and witless. In the present in-
 
 38 THE BANDBOX 
 
 stance he could think of nothing by way of response 
 happier than that hoary banality: "This is indeed 
 a surprise.'* 
 
 "Flatterer!" said Mrs. Ilkington archly. "I'm not 
 surprised," she pursued. " I might have known you 'd 
 be aboard this vessel." 
 
 "You must be a prophetess of sorts, then," he said, 
 smiling. " I did n't know I was going to sail, myself, 
 till late yesterday afternoon." 
 
 "Deceiver," commented the lady calmly. "Why 
 can't you men ever be candid?" 
 
 Surprise merged into some annoyance. "What do 
 you mean ? " he asked bluntly. 
 
 "Oh, but two can play at that game," she assured 
 him spiritedly. " If you won't be open with me, why 
 should I tell all I know?" 
 
 " I 'm sure I don't know what you 're driving at, 
 Mrs. Ilkington." 
 
 "Would it improve your understanding" 
 she threatened him gaily with a gem-encrusted 
 forefinger " if I were to tell you I met a certain 
 person in Paris last week, who talked to me about 
 you?" 
 
 " It would not," said he stiffly. " Who ? " 
 
 "Oh, well, if you won't be frank!" Mrs. Ilkington's 
 manner implied that he was a bold, bad butterfly,
 
 TWINS 39 
 
 but that she had his entomological number, none the 
 less. "Tell me," she changed the subject abruptly, 
 "how goes the great play?" 
 
 "Three acts are written," he said in weariness of 
 spirit, "the fourth " 
 
 "But I thought you were n't to return to America 
 until it was quite finished ? " 
 
 "Who told you that, please?" 
 
 "Never mind, sir ! How about the fourth act ? " 
 
 "I mean to write it en voyage," said he, perplexed. 
 From whom could this woman possibly have learned so 
 much that was intimate to himself ? 
 
 " You have it all mapped out, then ? " she persisted. 
 
 "Oh, yes; it only needs to be put on paper." 
 
 "R'ally, then, it's true isn't it that the writ 
 ing is the least part of play construction? " 
 
 "Who told you that?" he asked again, this time 
 amused. 
 
 "Oh, a very prominent man," she declared; and 
 named him. 
 
 Staff laughed. "A too implicit belief in that theory, 
 Mrs. Ilkington," said he, "is responsible for the large 
 number of perfectly good plays that somehow never get 
 written to say nothing of the equally large number 
 of perfectly good playwrights who somehow never get 
 anywhere."
 
 40 THE BANDBOX 
 
 "Clever!" screamed the lady. "But aren't you 
 wasteful of your epigrams?" 
 
 He could cheerfully have slain her then and there; 
 for which reason the civil gravity he preserved was all 
 the more commendable. 
 
 "And now," he persisted, "won't you tell me with 
 whom you were discussing me in Paris?" 
 
 She shook her head at him reprovingly. "You don't 
 know?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 "You can't guess?" 
 
 "Not to save me." 
 
 "R'ally?" 
 
 "Honestly and truly," he swore, puzzled by the 
 undertone of light malice he thought to detect in her 
 manner. 
 
 "Then," said she with decision, "I'm not going to 
 get myself into trouble by babbling. But, if you 
 promise to be nice to me all the way home ? " She 
 paused. 
 
 "I promise," he said gravely. 
 
 "Then if you happen to be at the head of the 
 companion-ladder when the tender comes off from 
 Queenstown tonight I promise you a huge surprise." 
 
 "You won't say more than that?" he pleaded. 
 
 She appeared to debate. "Yes," she announced
 
 TWINS 41 
 
 mischievously; "I'll give you a leading hint. The 
 person I mean is the purchaser of the Cadogan 
 collar." 
 
 His eyes were blank. "And what, please, is the 
 Cadogan collar?" 
 
 " You don't mean to tell me you 've never heard 
 of it?" She paused with dramatic effect. "Incredi 
 ble! Surely, everybody knows about the Cadogan 
 collar, the most magnificent necklace of pearls in the 
 world!" 
 
 "Everybody, it seems, but myself, Mrs. Hkington." 
 
 "R'ally!" she cried, and tapped his arm playfully. 
 "You are as stupid as most brilliant men!" 
 
 A bugle sang through the evening air. The lady 
 started consciously. 
 
 "Heavens!" she cried. "Time to dress for dinner: 
 I must fly! . . . Have you made your table res 
 ervation yet? " 
 
 "Yes," he said hastily. 
 
 "Then do see the second-steward at once and get 
 transferred to our table; we have just one vacant chair. 
 Oh, but you must; you Ve promised to be nice to me, 
 you know. And I do so want you to meet one of my 
 protegees such a sweet girl a Miss Searle. I 'm 
 sure you '11 be crazy about her at least, you would 
 be if there were no Alison Landis in your cosmos. Now,
 
 42 THE BANDBOX 
 
 do attend to that right away. Remember you Ve 
 promised." 
 
 Staff bowed as she fluttered away. In his heart he 
 was thoroughly convinced that this were a sorry scheme 
 of things indeed did it not include a special hell for 
 Mrs. Ilkingtons. 
 
 What had she meant by her veiled references to this 
 mysterious person in Paris, who was to board the 
 steamer at Queenstown? How had she come by so 
 much personal knowledge of himself and his work? And 
 what did she know about his love for Alison Landis? 
 
 He swore thoughtfully, and went below to dress, 
 stopping on the way to make arrangements with the 
 second-steward to have his seat changed, in accordance 
 with his exacted promise.
 
 IV 
 
 QUEENSTOWN 
 
 TMMEDIATELY he had allowed himself to be per 
 suaded, Staff felt sure he should not have agreed 
 to change his seat to the table occupied by Mrs. liking- 
 ton's party, especially if he meant sincerely to try to 
 do any real work aboard the Autocratic; and it was n't 
 long after he had taken his place for the first dinner 
 that he was convinced that he had blundered beyond 
 remedy or excuse. 
 
 The table was round and seated seven, though when 
 the party had assembled there remained two vacant 
 places. Staff was assigned the chair on Mrs. Ilkington's 
 right and was sensitive to a not over subtle implication 
 that his was the seat of honour. He would cheerfully 
 have exchanged it for a place on the lady's left, which 
 would have afforded a chance to talk to Miss Searle, 
 to whom he earnestly desired to make an explanation 
 and such amends as she would permit. But a male 
 person named Bangs, endowed with impressive self- 
 assurance, altogether too much good-looks (measured 
 
 43
 
 44 THE BANDBOX 
 
 by the standards of the dermatological institute adver 
 tisements) and no excess baggage in the way of intel 
 lect, sat on Mrs. Ilkington's left, with Miss Searle 
 beyond him. The latter had suffered Staff to be pre 
 sented to her with (he fancied) considerable repressed 
 amusement. Not that he blamed her, but . . . 
 
 His position was rendered unhappy to the verge of 
 being impossible, however, by the lady on his own right, 
 a Mrs. Thataker: darkly temperamental and buxom, a 
 divorcee and (she lost no time in telling him) likewise 
 a playwright. True, none of her plays had ever been 
 produced; but that was indisputably due to a mana 
 gerial conspiracy; what she really needed was a friend 
 at court some clever man having " the ear of the man 
 ager." (Staff gathered that a truly clever man could 
 warm up a play and pour it into the ear of the managers 
 like laudanum and sweet-oil.) With such a man, he 
 was given to understand, Mrs. Thataker would n't 
 mind collaborating; she had manuscripts in her steamer- 
 trunk which were calculated to prove a number of 
 things . . . 
 
 And while he was easing away and preparing to run 
 before the wind to escape any such hideous complica 
 tion, he was abruptly brought up all-standing by the 
 information that the colour of the lady's soul was pink. 
 She knew this to be a fact beyond dispute, because she
 
 QUEENSTOWN 45 
 
 never could do her best work save when garbed ex 
 clusively in pink. She enumerated several articles of 
 wearing apparel not customarily discussed between 
 comparative strangers but which always provided 
 they were pink she held indispensable to the task 
 of dramatic composition. 
 
 In his great agony, happening to glance in Miss 
 Searle's direction, he saw her with head bent and eye 
 lids lowered, lips compressed, colour a trifle heightened, 
 shoulders suspiciously a-quiver. 
 
 Incongruously, the impression obtruded that they 
 were unusually handsome shoulders. 
 
 For that matter, she was an unusually handsome 
 young woman: tall, fair, with a face featured with faint, 
 exquisite irregularity, brown eyes and brows in striking 
 contrast to the rich golden colour of her hair; well- 
 poised and balanced sure but not too conscious of 
 herself . . . 
 
 Staff heard himself saying "Beg pardon?" to a 
 third repetition of one of Mrs. Thataker's gratuitous 
 revelations. 
 
 At this he took fright, drew back into his reserve for 
 the remainder of the meal, and as soon as he decently 
 could, made his excuses and fled to join Iff in the 
 smoking-room. . . . 
 
 He found the little man indulging his two passions;
 
 46 THE BANDBOX 
 
 he was drinking whiskey-and-sodas and playing bridge, 
 both in the most masterly fashion. Staff watched the 
 game a while and then, the opportunity offering, cut 
 in. He played till ten o'clock, at which hour, wearied, 
 he yielded his seat to another, leaving Mr. Iff the victor 
 of six rubbers and twelve whiskey-and-sodas. As Staff 
 went out on deck the little man cut for the seventh and 
 ordered the thirteenth. Neither indulgence seemed to 
 have had any perceptible effect upon him. 
 
 Staff strolled forward, drinking in air that seemed the 
 sweeter by contrast with the reeking room he had just 
 quitted. The wind had freshened since nightfall; it 
 blew strong and cool, but not keen. And there was 
 more motion in the seas that sang overside, wrapped in 
 Cimmerian blackness. The sky had become overcast; 
 there were no stars: only the 'longshore lights of Ireland 
 twinkled, small, bright, incredibly distant over the 
 waters. The decks were softly aglow with electric lights, 
 lending a deeper shade of velvety denseness to the night 
 beyond the rails. 
 
 He had n't moved far forward when his quick sight 
 picked out the shimmer of a woman's hair, like spun 
 gold, about amidships in the rank of deck-Chan's. He 
 made sure it was Miss Searle ; and it was. She sat alone, 
 with none near her, her head resting against the back 
 of the chair, her face turned a trifle forward; so that
 
 QUEENSTOWN 47 
 
 she was unaware of his approach until he stopped 
 before her. 
 
 "Miss Searle " he began diffidently. 
 
 She looked up quickly and smiled in what he thought 
 a friendly way. 
 
 "Good evening," said she; and moved her body 
 slightly in the deck-chair, turning a little to the left as 
 if expecting him to take the vacant chair on that hand. 
 
 He did so without further encouragement, and 
 abruptly found himself wholly lacking words where 
 with to phrase what he had in mind to say. In such 
 emergency he resorted to an old, tried and true trick 
 of his and began to talk on the first subject, unrelated 
 to his dilemma, that popped into his head. 
 
 "Are you a good sailor? " he enquired gravely. 
 
 The girl nodded. "Very." 
 
 "Not afraid of seasickness?" 
 
 "No. Why?" 
 
 "Because," said Staff soberly, "I Ve been praying for 
 * hurricane." 
 
 She nodded again without speaking, her eyes alone 
 questioning. 
 
 "Mrs. Thataker," he pursued evenly, "confided to 
 me at dinner that she is a very poor sailor indeed." 
 
 Miss Searle laughed quietly. "You desire a punish 
 ment to fit the crime."
 
 48 THE BANDBOX 
 
 "There are some crimes for which no adequate 
 punishment has ever been contrived," he returned, 
 beginning to see his way, and at the same time beginning 
 to think himself uncommonly clever. 
 
 " Oh ! " said Miss Searle with a little laugh. " Now if 
 you 're leading up to a second apology about that ques 
 tion of the bandbox, you need n't, because I 've forgiven 
 you already." 
 
 He glanced at her reproachfully. " You just naturally 
 had to beat me to that, did n't you?" he complained. 
 "Ah 1 the same, it was inexcusable of me." 
 
 "Oh, no; I quite understood." 
 
 "You see," he persisted obstinately, "I really did 
 think it was my bandbox. I actually have got one 
 with me, precisely like yours." 
 
 "I quite believed you the first time." 
 
 Something in her tone moved him to question her face 
 sharply; but he found her shadowed eyes inscrutable. 
 
 "I half believe you know something," he ventured, 
 perplexed. 
 
 " Perhaps," she nodded, with an enigmatic smile. 
 
 "What do you know?" 
 
 " Why," she said, " it was simple enough. I happened 
 to be in Lucille's yesterday afternoon when a hat was 
 ordered delivered to you." 
 
 "You were! Then you know who sent it to me?"
 
 QUEENSTOWN 49 
 
 "Of course." Her expression grew curious. "Don't 
 you?" 
 
 " No," he said excitedly. " Tell me." 
 
 But she hesitated. " I 'm not sure I ought ..." 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 " It 's none of my affair " 
 
 "But surely you must see ... Listen: I '11 tell you 
 about it." He narrated succinctly the intrusion of the 
 mysterious bandbox into his ken, that morning. " Now, 
 a note was promised; it must have miscarried. Surely, 
 there can be no harm in your telling me. Besides, I Ve 
 a right to know." 
 
 " Possibly . . . but I 'm not sure I Ve a right to tell. 
 Why should I be a spoil-sport?" 
 
 " You mean," he said thoughtfully "you think it 's 
 some sort of a practical joke?" 
 
 "What do you think?" 
 
 "Hmm-mm," said Staff. And then, "I don't like to 
 be made fun of," he asserted, a trace sulkily. 
 
 "You are certainly a dangerously original man," said 
 Miss Searle "almost abnormal." 
 
 "The most unkindest slam of all," he murmured. 
 
 He made himself look deeply hurt. The girl laughed 
 softly. He thought it rather remarkable that they 
 should enjoy so sympathetic a sense of humour on 
 such short acquaintance. . . .
 
 50 THE BANDBOX 
 
 "But you forgive me?' 1 
 
 "Oh, yes," he said generously; "only, of course, I 
 could n't help feeling it a bit coming from you." 
 
 "From me?" Miss Searle sat up in her deck-chair 
 and turned to him. "Mr. Staff! you 're not flirting 
 with me? " 
 
 "Heaven forfend!" he cried, so sincerely that both 
 laughed. 
 
 "Because," said she, sinking back, "I must warn you 
 that Mrs. Ilkington has been talking ..." 
 
 "Oh," he groaned from his heart "damn that 
 woman!" 
 
 There was an instant of silence; then he stole a con 
 trite look at her immobile profile and started to get up. 
 
 "I Miss Searle," he stammered "I beg your 
 pardon ..." 
 
 "Don't go," she said quietly; "that is, unless you 
 want to. My silence was simply sympathetic." 
 
 He sat back. "Thank you," he said with gratitude; 
 and for some seconds considered the case of Mrs. 
 Ilkington, not charitably but with murder in his bosom. 
 "Do you mean," he resumed presently, "she has ah 
 connected my name with " 
 
 "Yes," nodded the girl. 
 
 "'Something lingering in boiling oil,'" he mused 
 aloud, presently. . . . "What staggers me is how she
 
 QUEENSTOWN 51 
 
 found out; I was under the impression that only the 
 persons most concerned knew about it." 
 
 "Then it 's true? You are engaged to many Miss 
 Landis? Or is that an impertinent question?" With 
 out pause the girl answered herself: "Of course it 
 is; only I could n't help asking. Please forget I 
 spoke " 
 
 "Oh, I don't mind," he said wearily; "now that Mrs. 
 Ilkington has begun to distribute handbills. Only . . . 
 I don't know that there 's a regular, hard-and-fast en 
 gagement: just an understanding." 
 
 "Thank you," said Miss Searle. "I promise not to 
 speak of it again." She hesitated an instant, then added: 
 "To you or anybody else." 
 
 "You see," he went on after a little, "I've been 
 working on a play for Miss Landis, under agreement 
 with Jules Max, her manager. They want to use it to 
 open Max's newest Broadway theatre late this autumn. 
 That 's why I came across to find a place in London 
 to bury myself in and work undisturbed. It means a 
 good deal to me to all of us this play. . . . But 
 what I 'm getting at is this: Alison Miss Landis 
 did n't leave the States this summer; Mrs. Ilkington 
 (she told me at dinner) left New York before I did. 
 So how in Heaven's name ? " 
 
 "I had known nothing of Mrs. Ilkington at all/*
 
 52 THE BANDBOX 
 
 said Miss Searle cautiously, "until we met in Paris 
 last month." 
 
 He was conscious of the hint of uneasiness in her 
 manner, but inclined to assign it to the wrong cause. 
 
 " I trust I have n't bored you, Miss Searle talking 
 about myself. " 
 
 "Oh, no; indeed no. You see " she laughed 
 "I quite understand; I keep a temperament of my 
 own if you should happen to wonder why Mrs. 
 Ilkington interests herself in me. I 'm supposed 
 to have a voice and to be in training for grand 
 opera." 
 
 "Not really?" 
 
 And again she laughed. " I 'm afraid there is n't any 
 cure for me at this late date," she protested; "I 've 
 gone so far I must go farther. But I know what you 
 mean. People who sing are difficult. However ..." 
 She stirred restlessly in her chair, then sat up. 
 
 "What is that light over there?" she asked. "Do 
 you know?" 
 
 Staff's gaze sought the indicated direction. "Roches 
 Point, I imagine; we 're about due at Queenstown ..." 
 
 "As late as that?" The girl moved as if to rise. 
 Staff jumped up and offered her a hand. In a moment 
 she was standing beside him. " I must go below," said 
 she. "Good night."
 
 QUEENSTOWN 53 
 
 "You won't tell me who it was in Lucille's, yester 
 day?" he harked back pleadingly. 
 
 She shook her head gaily as she turned forward to 
 the main companionway entrance: "No; you must find 
 out for yourself." 
 
 "But perhaps it is n't a practical joke?" 
 
 " Then perhaps I shall tell you all some 
 time." 
 
 He paused by the raised door-sill as she stepped 
 within the superstructure. "Why not stop up and see 
 the tender come off?" he suggested. "It might be 
 interesting." 
 
 She flashed him a look of gay malice. " If we 're to 
 believe Mrs. Ilkington, you 're apt to find it more inter 
 esting than I. Good night." 
 
 "Oh good night!" he muttered, disturbed; and 
 turned away to the rail. 
 
 His troubled vision ranged far to the slowly shifting 
 shore lights. The big steamship had come very close 
 inshore as witness the retarded speed with which she 
 crept toward her anchorage but still the lights, for 
 all their singular brightness, seemed distant, incalcula 
 bly far away; the gulf of blackness that set them apart 
 exaggerated all distances tenfold. The cluster of sparks 
 flanked by #reen and red that marked the hover 
 ing tender appeared to float at an infinite remove,
 
 54 THE BANDBOX 
 
 invisibly buoyed upon the bosom of a fathomless 
 void of night. 
 
 Out of this wind-swept waste of impenetrable dark 
 ness was to come the answer to these many questions 
 that perplexed him perhaps. Something at least 
 would come to influence him; or else Mrs. Ilkington's 
 promise had been mere blague. . . . Then what? 
 
 Afterwards he assured himself that his stupidity had 
 been unparalleled inconceivable. And indeed there 
 seems to be some colour of excuse for this drastic 
 stricture, self-inflicted though it were. 
 
 Below him, on the main deck, a squad of deckhands 
 superintended by a petty officer was rigging out the 
 companion-ladder. 
 
 Very suddenly it seemed, because of the immense 
 quiet that for all its teeming life enveloped the ship 
 upon the cessation of the engine's song the vessel 
 hesitated and then no longer moved. From forward 
 came the clank of chains as the anchor cables were 
 paid out. Supple to wind and tide, the Autocratic swung 
 in a wide arc, until the lights of the tender disappeared 
 from Staff's field of vision. 
 
 Before long, however, they swam silently again into 
 sight; then slowly, cautiously, by almost imperceptible 
 stages the gap closed up until the tender ranged along 
 side and made fast to her gigantic sister.
 
 QUEENSTOWN 55 
 
 Almost at once the incoming passengers began to 
 mount the companion-ladder. 
 
 Staff promptly abandoned his place at the rail 
 and ran down to the main-deck. As he approached 
 the doorway opening adjacent to the companion- 
 ladder he heard a woman's laugh out on the deck: a 
 laugh which, once heard, was never to be forgot 
 ten: clear, sweet, strong, musical as a peal of fairy 
 bells. 
 
 He stopped short; and so did his breath for an in 
 stant; and so, he fancied, did his heart. This, then, 
 was what Mrs. Ilkington had hinted at ! But one woman 
 in all the world could laugh like that . . . 
 
 Almost at once she appeared, breaking through the 
 cluster of passengers on the deck and into the lighted 
 interior with a swinging, vigorous manner suggestive of 
 intense vitality and strength. She paused, glancing 
 back over her shoulder, waiting for somebody: a mag 
 nificent creature, splendidly handsome, wonderfully 
 graceful, beautiful beyond compare. 
 
 "Alison!" Staff breathed hoarsely, dumfounded. 
 
 Though his exclamation could by no means have 
 carried to her ears, she seemed to be instantly sensitive 
 to the vibrations of his emotion. She swung round, 
 raking her surroundings with a bright, curious glance, 
 and saw him. Her smile deepened adorably, her eyes
 
 56 THE BANDBOX 
 
 brightened, she moved impulsively toward him with 
 outflung hands. 
 
 "Why," she cried "Why, Staff! Such a surprise!" 
 
 Nothing could have been more natural, spontaneous 
 and unaffected. In an instant his every doubt and 
 misgiving was erased blotted out and as if it 
 had never been. He caught and held her hands, for 
 the moment speechless. But his eyes were all too 
 eloquent: under their steadfast sincerity her own gaze 
 wavered, shifted and fell. She coloured consum 
 mately, then with a gentle but determined manner 
 disengaged her hands. 
 
 " Don't," she said in the low, intimate voice she knew 
 so well how and when to employ "don't! People 
 are looking ..." And then with a bewildering shift, 
 resuming her former spirit: "Of all things wonderful, 
 Staff to meet you here!" 
 
 She was acting masking with her admirable art 
 some emotion secret from him. He knew this felt it 
 intuitively, though he did not understand; and the 
 knowledge affected him poignantly. What place had 
 dissimulation in their understanding? Why need she 
 affect what she did not feel with him? 
 
 Distressed, bewildered, he met evasion with native 
 straightforwardness. 
 
 " I 'm stunned," he told her, holding her eyes
 
 QUEENSTOWN 57 
 
 with a grave, direct gaze; "I 'm afraid I don't under 
 stand. . . . How does this happen? " 
 
 "Why, of course," she said, maintaining her arti 
 ficial elation "I infer you Ve finished the play and 
 are hurrying home. So we meet, dear boy. Is n't 
 it delightful?" 
 
 "But you 're here, on this side ?" 
 
 " Oh, just a flying trip. Max wanted me to see Bis- 
 son's new piece at the Porte St. Martin. I decided to 
 go at the last moment caught the Mauretania on 
 eight hours' notice stayed only three days in Paris 
 booked back on this tub by telegraph travelled 
 all day to catch it by this wretched, roundabout route. 
 And and there you are, my dear." 
 
 She concluded with a gesture charmingly ingenuous 
 and disarming; but Staff shook his head impatiently. 
 
 "You came over you passed through London 
 twice you stayed three days in Paris, Alison and 
 never let me know? " 
 
 "Obviously." She lifted her shoulders an inch, with 
 a light laugh. "Haven't I just said as much? . . . 
 You see, I didn't want to disturb you: it means so, 
 much to you and me, Staff the play." 
 
 Dissatisfied, knitting his brows faintly, he saidr "'I 
 wonder . . .!" 
 
 "My dear!" she protested gaily, "you positively
 
 58 THE BANDBOX 
 
 must not scowl at me like that! You frighten me; and 
 besides I 'm tired to death this wretched rush of 
 travelling! Tomorrow we '11 have a famous young 
 pow-wow, but tonight ! Do say good night to me, 
 prettily, like a dear good boy, and let me go. ... It 's 
 sweet to see you again; I 'm wild to hear about the play. 
 . . . Jane!" she called, looking round. 
 
 Her maid, a tight-mouthed, unlovely creature, 
 moved sedately to her side. "Yes, Miss Landis." 
 
 "Have my things come up yet?" The maid 
 responded affirmatively. " Good ! I 'm dead, 
 almost. ..." 
 
 She turned back to Staff, offering him her hand 
 and with it, bewitchingly, her eyes: "Dear boy! 
 Good night." 
 
 He bent low over the hand to hide his dissatis 
 faction: he felt a bit old to be treated like a petulant, 
 teasing child. . . . 
 
 "Good night," he said stiffly. 
 
 "What a bear you are, Staff! Can't you wait 
 till tomorrow? At all events, you must. ..." 
 
 Laughing, she swept away, following her maid 
 up the companion stairs. Staff pursued her with 
 eyes frowning and perplexed, and more leisurely with 
 his person. 
 
 As he turned aft on the upper deck, meaning to go
 
 QUEENSTOWN 59 
 
 to the smoking-room for a good-night cigarette 
 absorbed in thought and paying no attention to his 
 surroundings a voice saluted him with a languid, 
 exasperating drawl: "Ah, Staff! How-d'-ye-do?" 
 
 He looked up, recognising a distant acquaintance: 
 a man of medium height with a tendency toward 
 stoutness and a taste for extremes in the matter 
 of clothes; with dark, keen eyes deep-set in a face 
 somewhat too pale, a close-clipped grey moustache 
 and a high and narrow forehead too frankly be 
 trayed by the derby he wore well back on his head. 
 
 Staff nodded none too cordially. "Oh, good 
 evening, Arkroyd. Just come aboard?" 
 
 Arkroyd, on the point of entering his stateroom, 
 paused long enough to confirm this surmise. " Beastly 
 trip most tiresome," he added, frankly yawning. 
 " Don't know how I should have stood it if it had n't 
 been for Miss Landis. You know her, I believe? 
 Charming girl charming." 
 
 "Oh, quite," agreed Staff. "Good night." 
 
 His tone arrested Arkroyd's attention; the man 
 turned to watch his back as Staff shouldered 
 down the alleyway toward the smoking-room. "I 
 say!" commented Mr. Arkroyd, privately. "A 
 bit hipped what? No necessity for being so 
 bally short with a chap. ..."
 
 60 THE BANDBOX 
 
 The guess was only too well founded: Staff was 
 distinctly disgruntled. Within the past ten minutes 
 his susceptibilities had been deeply wounded. Why 
 Alison should have chosen to slight him so cavalierly 
 when in transit through London passed his compre 
 hension. . . . And the encounter with Arkroyd 
 comforted him to no degree whatever. He had 
 never liked Arkroyd, holding him, for all his wealth, 
 little better than a theatre-loafer of the Broadway 
 type; and now he remembered hearing, once or 
 twice, that the man's attentions to Alison Landis 
 had been rather emphatic. 
 
 Swayed by whim, he chose to avoid the smoking- 
 room, after all having little wish to be annoyed 
 by the chatter of Mr. Iff and swung out on 
 deck again for a half-hour of cigarettes and lonely 
 brooding. . . . 
 
 But his half-hour lengthened indefinitely while 
 he sat, preoccupied, in the deck-chair of some total 
 stranger. By definite stages, to which he was almost 
 altogether oblivious, the Autocratic weighed anchor, 
 shook off her tender and swung away on the seven- 
 day stretch. As definitely her decks became bare 
 of passengers. Presently Staff was quite a solitary 
 figure in the long array of chairs. 
 
 Two bells rang mellowly through the ship before
 
 QUEENSTOWN 61 
 
 he roused, lifted himself to his feet and prepared 
 to turn in, still distressed and wondering so 
 much so that he was barely conscious of the fact 
 that one of the officers of the vessel was coming aft, 
 and only noticed the man when he paused and spoke. 
 
 "I say this is Mr. Staff, is n't it?" 
 
 Staff turned quickly, searching his memory for 
 the name and status of the sturdy and good-looking 
 young Englishman. 
 
 "Yes," he said slowly, "but" 
 
 " I 'm Mr. Manvers, the purser. If I 'm not 
 mistaken, you crossed with us this spring?" 
 
 "Oh, yes; I did. How-d'-you-do?" Staff offered 
 his hand. 
 
 "Sure I recognised you just now saw you on 
 the main-deck talking to Miss Landis, I believe." 
 
 "Yes . . . ?" 
 
 "Beg pardon; I don't wish to seem impertinent; 
 but may I ask, do you know the lady very well?" 
 
 Staff's eyes clouded. "Why ..." 
 
 "Knew you'd think me impertinent; but it is 
 some of my business, really. I can explain to your 
 satisfaction. You see" the purser stepped nearer 
 and lowered his voice guardedly "I was won 
 dering if you had much personal influence with 
 Miss Landis. I Ve just had a bit of a chat with her,
 
 62 THE BANDBOX 
 
 and she won't listen to reason, you know, about 
 that collar." 
 
 "Collar?" Staff repeated stupidly. 
 
 " The Cadogan collar, you know some silly 
 pearl necklace worth a king's ransom. She bought 
 it in Paris Miss Landis did; at least, so the report 
 runs; and she does n't deny it, as a matter of fact. 
 Naturally that worries me; it 's a rather tempting 
 proposition to leave lying round a stateroom; and 
 I asked her just now to let me take care of it for her 
 put it in my safe, you know. It 'd be a devilish 
 nasty thing for the ship, to have it stolen." The 
 purser paused for effect. "Would you believe it? 
 She would n't listen to me! Told me she was quite 
 capable of taking care of her own property! Now 
 if you know her well enough to say the right word 
 ... it 'd be a weight off my mind, I can tell you!" 
 
 "Yes, I can imagine so," said Staff thoughtfully. 
 "But what makes you think there's any pos 
 sibility" 
 
 "Well, one never knows what sort of people the 
 ship carries as a rule, that is. But in this instance 
 I Ve got good reason to believe there 's at least one 
 man aboard who would n't mind lifting that collar; 
 and he 's keen enough to do it prettily, too, if what 
 they tell of him is true."
 
 QUEENSTOWN 63 
 
 "Now you're getting interesting. Who is this 
 man?" 
 
 " Oh, quite the swell mobsman Raffles and 
 Arsene Lupin and all that sort of thing rolled 
 into one. His name 's Ismay Arbuthnot Ismay. 
 Clever wonderful, they say; the police have 
 never been able to fasten anything on him, 
 though he 's been known to boast of his jobs in 
 advance." 
 
 "You told Miss Landis this?" 
 
 " Certainly and she laughed." 
 
 This seemed quite credible of the lady. Staff 
 considered the situation seriously for a moment 
 or two. 
 
 "I '11 do what I can," he said at length; "though 
 I 'm not hopeful of making her see it from your 
 point of view. Still, I will speak to her." 
 
 " That 's good of you, I 'm sure. You could n't 
 do more." 
 
 "You're positive about this Ismay?" Staff pur 
 sued. "You could n't be mistaken?" 
 
 "Not I," asserted the purser confidently. "He 
 crossed with us last year the time Mrs. Burden 
 Hamman's jewels disappeared. Ismay, of course, 
 was suspected, but managed to prove every kind 
 of an alibi."
 
 64 THE BANDBOX 
 
 "Queer you should let him book a second time/' 
 commented Staff. 
 
 "Rather; but he 's changed his name, and I don't 
 imagine the chaps in Cockspur Street know him by 
 sight." 
 
 "What name does he travel under now?" 
 
 The purser smiled softly to himself. "I fancy 
 you won't be pleased to learn it," said he. "He 's 
 down on the passenger-list as Iff W. H. Iff."
 
 V 
 
 ISMAY ? 
 
 WHEN Staff went below a little later, he was 
 somewhat surprised to find his stateroom 
 alight, surprised, because he had rather expected 
 that Mr. Iff would elect to sleep off his potations 
 in darkness. 
 
 To the contrary, the little man was very much 
 awake, propped up in his berth with a book for 
 company, and showed no effects whatever of over 
 indulgence, unless that were betrayed by a slightly 
 enhanced brightness of the cool blue eyes which he 
 brought to bear upon his roommate. 
 
 "Good morning!" he piped cheerfully. "What 
 on earth got you up so early? The bar 's been 
 closed an hour and more." 
 
 "Is that why you came to bed?" enquired Staff. 
 
 "Sure," agreed Mr. Iff complacently. 
 
 Staff quietly began to shed his clothing and to 
 insert his spare frame into pajamas. Iff lay back 
 and stared reflectively at the white-painted over 
 head girders. 
 
 65
 
 66 THE BANDBOX 
 
 "Got to slip it to you," he observed presently, 
 "for perfect mastery of the dignified reserve thing. 
 I never knew anybody who could better control his 
 tumultuous emotions." 
 
 "Thanks," said Staff drily as he wound up his 
 watch. 
 
 "Anything 'special troubling you?" 
 
 "Why do you ask?" 
 
 " You talk so darn much." 
 
 "Sorry if I'm keeping you awake," said Staff 
 politely. 
 
 " Oh, I don't mean to seem to beef about it, only 
 ... I was wondering if by any chance you 'd heard 
 the news?" 
 
 "What news?" 
 
 "About me." 
 
 "About you!" Staff paused with his fingers on 
 the light-switch. 
 
 " About my cute little self. May I look now? " 
 Iff poked his head over the edge of the upper berth 
 and beamed down upon Staff like a benevolent, 
 blond magpie. " Have n't you heard the rumour 
 that I 'm a desperate character?" 
 
 "Just what do you mean?" demanded Staff, 
 eyeing the other intently. 
 
 "Oh, simply that I overheard the purser discuss-
 
 I S M A Y ? 67 
 
 ing me with his assistant. He claims to recognise 
 in me a bold bad man named Ismay, whose specialty 
 is pulling off jobs that would make Sherlock Holmes 
 ask to be retired on a pension." 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 "Well what?" 
 
 "Are you Ismay?" 
 
 A broad, mocking grin irradiated the little man's 
 pinched features. "Don't ask me," he begged: "I 
 might tell you." 
 
 Staff frowned and waited a minute, then, receiv 
 ing no further response to his enquiry, grunted 
 "Good night," turned off the light and got into his 
 berth. 
 
 A moment later the question came out of the dark 
 ness overhead: "I say what do you think?" 
 
 "Are you Iff or Ismay you mean?" 
 
 "Aye, lad, aye!" 
 
 "I don't know. It 's for you to say." 
 
 " But if you thought I was Ismay you 'd shift 
 quarters, would n't you?" 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 "Because I might pinch something of yours." 
 
 "In the first place," said Staff, yawning, "I can't 
 shift without going into the second cabin and 
 you know it: the boat's full up. Secondly, I've
 
 68 THE BANDBOX 
 
 nothing you could steal save ideas, and you have n't 
 got the right sort of brains to turn them to any 
 account." 
 
 "That ought to hold me for some time," Iff ad 
 mitted fairly. " But I 'm concerned about your 
 sensitive young reputation. Suppose I were to turn 
 a big trick this trip?" 
 
 " As for instance ? " 
 
 "Well, say I swipe the Cadogan collar." 
 
 " Then I 'd stand just so much the better chance 
 of catching you red-handed." 
 
 " Swell notion you 've got of the cunning of the 
 Twentieth Century criminal, I must say. D' you 
 for an instant suppose my work 's so coarse that you 
 could detect grits in it?" 
 
 "Then you are Ismay?" 
 
 "My son," said the other solemnly, "your per 
 tinacity shan't go unrewarded : I will be frank with 
 you. You shall know all. I am Iff the eternal 
 question." 
 
 "Oh, go to thunder!" said Staff indignantly. 
 
 But as he slipped off to sleep he could hear 
 the man overhead chuckling quietly, beneath his 
 breath. . . . 
 
 The next few days would have provided him with 
 ample opportunity in which to ponder the question
 
 I S M A Y ? 69 
 
 of his roommate's identity, had Staff chosen so to 
 occupy his time. As it happened, Heaven was kind 
 to the young man, and sent a gale of sorts, which, 
 breaking upon the Autocratic the following morn 
 ing, buffeted her for three days and relegated to 
 their berths all the poor sailors aboard, including 
 the lady with the pink soul and underthings. Of 
 Mrs. Thataker, indeed, Staff saw nothing more until 
 just before the vessel docked in New York. He 
 was n't heartless by any manner of means; he was, 
 as a matter of fact, frankly sorry for the other poor 
 passengers; but he could n't help feeling there was 
 a lot of truth in the old saw about an ill wind. . . . 
 
 Otherwise the bad weather proved annoying 
 enough in several ways. To begin with, Alison 
 Landis herself was anything but a good sailor, and 
 even Miss Searle, though she missed no meals, 
 did n't pretend to enjoy the merciless hammering 
 which the elements were administering to the ship. 
 Alison retired to her suite immediately after the 
 first breakfast and stuck religiously therein until 
 the weather moderated, thus affording Staff no chance 
 to talk with her about the number of immediately 
 interesting things on his mind. While Miss Searle 
 stayed almost as steadily in her quarters, keep 
 ing out of harm's way and reading, she told
 
 70 THE BANDBOX 
 
 Staff when they met at meals. Mrs. Ilkington, of 
 course, disappeared as promptly as Mrs. Thataker. 
 In consequence of all of which, Staff found himself 
 thrown back for companionship on Bangs, who bored 
 him to the point of extinction, Arkroyd, whom he 
 did n't like, and Iff, who kept rather out of the way, 
 dividing his time between his two passions and 
 merely leering at the younger man, a leer of infi 
 nite cunning and derision, when chance threw them 
 together. 
 
 In despair of finding any good excuse for wasting 
 his time, then, Mr. Staff took unto himself pens, 
 ink, paper and fortitude and surprised even him 
 self by writing that fourth act and finishing his 
 play. Again an ill wind ! 
 
 And then, as if bent on proving its integral 
 benevolence so far as concerned Mr. Staff, the wind 
 shifted and sighed and died beginning the oper 
 ation toward sundown of the third day out from 
 Queenstown. The morning of the fourth day dawned 
 clear and beautiful, with no wind worth mentioning 
 and only a moderate sea running not enough to 
 make much of an impression on the Autocratic. 
 So pretty nearly everybody made public appear 
 ance at one time or another during the morning, and 
 compared notes about their historic sufferings, and
 
 ISM AY? 71 
 
 quoted the stewardess who had been heard to say 
 that this was the worst westbound passage the boat 
 had ever made, and regained their complexions, and 
 took notice of the incipient flirtations and well, 
 settled down in the usual way to enjoy an ocean 
 voyage. 
 
 Staff, of course, was on deck betimes, with an eye 
 eager for first sight of Alison and another heedful 
 of social entanglements which might prevent him 
 from being first and foremost to her side when 
 she did appear. But for all his watchfulness and 
 care, Mrs. Ilkington forestalled him and had Alison 
 in convoy before Staff discovered her; and then 
 Arkroyd showed up and Mrs. Ilkington annexed 
 him, and Bangs was rounded up with one or two 
 others and made to pay court to Mrs. Ilkington's 
 newly snared celebrity and . . . Staff went away and 
 sulked like a spoiled child. Nor did his humour 
 become more cheerful when at lunch he discovered 
 that Mrs. Ilkington had kept two seats at their 
 table reserved for Miss Landis and Arkroyd. It 
 had been a prearranged thing, of course; it had been 
 Alison with whom Mrs. Ilkington had talked about 
 him in Paris; and evidently Alison had been es 
 quired by Arkroyd there. Staff did n't relish the 
 flavour of that thought. What right had Arkroyd
 
 72 THE BANDBOX 
 
 to constitute himself Alison's cavalier on her travels? 
 For that matter, what right had Alison to accept 
 him in such a capacity? . . . Though, of course, 
 Staff had to remind himself that Alison was in 
 reality not bound in any way. . . . 
 
 But he had his reward and revenge after lunch. 
 As the party left the table Alison dropped behind 
 to speak to him; and in interchange of common 
 places they allowed the others to distance them 
 beyond earshot. 
 
 "You 're a dear," the young woman told him in 
 a discreet tone as they ascended the companionway. 
 
 "I 'm bound to say," he told her with a faint, 
 expiring flicker of resentment, "that you hardly 
 treat me like one." 
 
 Her eyes held his with their smiling challenge, 
 half provocative, half tender; and she pouted a 
 little, prettily. In this mood she was always quite 
 irresistible to Staff. Almost against his will his 
 dignity and his pose of the injured person evaporated 
 and became as if they had never been. 
 
 "Just the same," she declared, laughing, "you 
 are a dear if you don't deserve to be told so." 
 
 "What have I done?" he demanded guiltily 
 knowing very well on what counts he was liable 
 to indictment.
 
 I S M A Y ? 73 
 
 "Oh, nothing," said Alison "nothing what 
 ever. You 've only been haughty and aloof and 
 icy and indifferent and everything else that men 
 seem to consider becoming to them when they think 
 they 're neglected." 
 
 "You certainly don't expect me to like seeing 
 Arkroyd at your side all the time?" 
 
 "Oh!" she laughed contemptuously "Arkroyd!" 
 And she dismissed that gentleman with a fine sweep 
 ing gesture. " Can I help it if he happens to travel 
 on the same ship?" 
 
 They halted at the top of the steps. 
 
 "Then it was accidental ?" he asked seriously. 
 
 "Staff!" The young woman made an impatient 
 movement. " If I did n't like you you know 
 how much upon my word I 'd snub you for that. 
 You are a bear!" 
 
 "A moment ago I was a dear." 
 'Oh, well, I 'm fond of all sorts of animals." 
 
 "Then I advise your future husband to keep you 
 away from zoos." 
 
 "Oh, Staff! But would n't you want me to come 
 to see you once in a while?" 
 
 He jerked up one hand with the gesture of a man 
 touched in a fencing-bout. "You win," he laughed. 
 " I should 've known better. , . "
 
 74 THE BANDBOX 
 
 But she made her regard tender consolation for 
 his discomfiture. " You have n't told me about 
 the play our play my play? " 
 
 "It's finished." 
 
 "Not really, Staff?" She clasped her hands in 
 a charmingly impulsive way. He nodded, smiling. 
 "Is it good?" 
 
 "You '11 have to tell me that you and Max." 
 
 "Oh Max! He 's got to like what I like. When 
 will you read it to me?" 
 
 " Whenever you wish. " 
 
 "This afternoon?" 
 
 "If you like." 
 
 " Oh, good ! Now I 'm off for my nap only 
 I know I shan't sleep, I 'm so excited. Bring the 
 'script to me at two say, half-past. Come to my 
 sitting-room; we can be alone and quiet, and after 
 you Ve finished we can have tea together and talk 
 and talk our silly heads off. You darling!" 
 
 She gave him a parting glance calculated to turn 
 any man's head, and swung off to her rooms, the 
 very spirit of grace incarnate in her young and 
 vigorous body. 
 
 Staff watched her with a kindling eye, then shook his 
 head as one who doubts as if doubting his own 
 worthiness and went off to his own stateroom to
 
 I S M A Y ? 75 
 
 run over the type-script of his fourth act: being for 
 tunate in having chosen a ship which carried a typist, 
 together with almost every other imaginable convenience 
 and alleged luxury of life ashore. 
 
 Punctual to the minute, manuscript under his arm, 
 he knocked at the door of the sitting-room of the suite 
 de luxe occupied by the actress. Her maid admitted 
 him and after a moment or two Alison herself came out 
 of her stateroom, in a wonderful Parisian tea-gown 
 cunningly designed to render her even more bewilder- 
 ingly bewitching than ever. Staff thought her so, 
 beyond any question, and as unquestionably was 
 his thought mirrored in his eyes as he rose and stood 
 waiting for her greeting very nearly a-tremble, if 
 the truth 's to be told. 
 
 Her colour deepened as she came toward him and 
 then, pausing at arm's length, before he could lift a 
 hand, stretched forth both her own and caught him 
 by the shoulders. "My dear!" she said softly; and her 
 eyes were bright and melting. "My dear, dear boy! 
 It 's so sweet to see you." She came a step nearer, 
 stood upon her tiptoes and lightly touched his cheek 
 with her lips. 
 
 "Alison . . . !" he cried in a broken voice. 
 
 But already she had released him and moved away,, 
 with a lithe and gracious movement evading his arms.
 
 76 THE BANDBOX 
 
 "No," she told him firmly, shaking her head: "no 
 more than that, Staff. You must n't I won't have 
 you cany on as if we were children yet" 
 
 "But Alison " 
 
 "No." Again she shook her head. "If I want to 
 kiss you, I 've a perfect right to; but that does n't give 
 you any licence to kiss me in return. Besides, I 'm not 
 at all sure I 'm really and truly in love with you. Now 
 do sit down." 
 
 He complied sulkily. 
 
 "Are you in the habit of kissing men you don't 
 care for?" 
 
 "Yes, frequently," she told him, coolly taking the 
 chair opposite; "I 'm an actress if you 've forgotten 
 the fact." 
 
 He pondered this, frowning. "I don't like it," he 
 announced with conviction. 
 
 " Neither do I always." She relished his exas 
 peration for a moment longer, then changed her tone. 
 " Do be sensible, Staff. I 'm crazy to hear that play. 
 How long do you mean to keep me waiting? " 
 
 He knew her well enough to understand that her 
 moods and whims must be humoured like a well, 
 like any other star's. She was pertinaciously temper 
 amental: that is to say, spoiled; beautiful women are 
 so, for the most part invariably so, if on the stage.
 
 I S M A Y ? 77 
 
 That kind of temperament is part of an actress' equip 
 ment, an asset, as much an item of her stock in trade 
 as any trick of elocution or pantomime. 
 
 So, knowing what he knew, Staff took himself in 
 hand and prepared to make the best of the situation. 
 With a philosophic shrug and the wry, quaint smile so 
 peculiarly his own, he stretched forth a hand to take 
 up his manuscript; but in the very act, remembering, 
 withheld it. 
 
 "Oh, I'd forgotten ..." 
 
 "What, my dear?" asked Alison, smiling back to his 
 unsmiling stare. 
 
 "What made you send me that bandbox?" he de 
 manded without further preliminary; for he suspected 
 that by surprising the author of that outrage, and by no 
 other method, would he arrive at the truth. 
 
 But though he watched the woman intently, he was 
 able to detect no guilty start, no evidence of confusion. 
 Her eyes were blank, and a little pucker of wonder 
 showed between her brows: that was all. 
 
 "Bandbox?" she repeated enquiringly. "What do 
 you mean?" 
 
 " I mean," he pursued with a purposeful, omniscient 
 air, " the thing you bought at Lucille's, the day before 
 we sailed, and had sent me without a word of expla 
 nation. What did you do it for? "
 
 78 THE BANDBOX 
 
 Alison relaxed and sat back in her chair, laughing 
 softly. "Dear boy," she said "do you know? 
 you 're quite mad quite!" 
 
 " Do you mean to say you did n't ? " 
 
 "I can't even surmise what you 're talking about." 
 
 "That's funny." He pondered this, staring. "I 
 made sure it was you. Were n't you in London last 
 Friday?" 
 
 "I? Oh, no. Why, did n't I tell you I only left Paris 
 Saturday morning? That 's why we had to travel all 
 day to catch the boat at Queenstown, you know." 
 
 He frowned. "That's true; you did say so. . . . 
 But I wish I could imagine what it all means." 
 
 "Tell me; I 'm good at puzzles." 
 
 So he recounted the story of the bandbox incognito, 
 Alison lending her attention with evident interest, 
 some animation and much quiet amusement. But 
 when he had finished, she shook her head. 
 
 " How very odd! " she said wonderingly. "And you 
 have no idea ? " 
 
 "Not the least in the world, now that you Ve estab 
 lished an alibi. Miss Searle knows, but " 
 
 "What 's that?" demanded Alison quickly. 
 
 "I say, Miss Searle knows, but she won't tell." 
 
 "The girl who sat next to Bangs at lunch?" 
 
 "Yes "
 
 ISMAY? 79 
 
 "But how is that? I don't quite understand." 
 
 " Oh, she says she was in the place when the bandbox 
 was purchased saw the whole transaction; but it 's 
 none of her affair, says she, so she won't tell me any 
 thing." 
 
 "Conscientious young woman," said Alison approv 
 ingly. "But are you quite sure you have exhausted 
 every means of identifying the true culprit? Did you 
 examine the box yourself? I mean, did you leave it 
 all to the housemaid what 's her name Milly? " 
 
 He nodded: "Yes." 
 
 "Then she may have overlooked something. Why 
 take her word for it? There may be a card or some 
 thing there now." 
 
 Staff looked startled and chagrined. "That's so. 
 It never occurred to me. I am a bonehead, and no mis 
 take. I '11 just take a look, after we Ve run through 
 this play." 
 
 "Why wait? Send for it now. I 'd like to see for 
 myself, if there is anything: you see, you Ve roused a 
 woman's curiosity; I want to know. Let me send 
 Jane." 
 
 Without waiting for his consent, Alison summoned 
 the maid. "Jane," said she, "I want you to go to 
 Mr. Staff's stateroom " 
 
 "Excuse me/' Staff interrupted. "Find the steward
 
 80 THE BANDBOX 
 
 named Orde and ask him for the bandbox I gave him 
 to take care of. Then bring it here, please." 
 
 "Yes, sir," said Jane; and forthwith departed. 
 
 "And now while we 're waiting," suggested Alison 
 "the play, if you please." 
 
 " Not yet," said Staff. " I Ve something else to talk 
 about that I 'd forgotten. Manvers, the purser " 
 
 "Good Heavens!" Alison interrupted in exaspera 
 tion. She rose, with a general movement of extreme 
 annoyance. "Am I never to hear the last of that man? 
 He 's been after me every day, and sometimes twice 
 a day. . . . He 's a personified pest!" 
 
 "But he 's right, you know," said Staff quietly. 
 
 " Right ! Right about what? " 
 
 "In wanting you to let him take care of that neck 
 lace the what-you-may-call-it thing the Cadogan 
 collar." 
 
 "How do you know I have it?" 
 
 "You admitted as much to Manvers, and Mrs. 
 Ilkington says you have it." 
 
 "But why need everybody know about it?" 
 
 " Enquire of Mrs. Ilkington. If you wanted the mat 
 ter kept secret, why in the sacred name of the great 
 god Publicity did you confide in that queen of press 
 agents?" 
 
 "She had no right to say anything "
 
 I S M A Y ? 81 
 
 "Granted. So you actually have got that collar 
 with you?" 
 
 "Oh, yes," Alison admitted indifferently, "I have it." 
 
 "In this room?" 
 
 "Of course." 
 
 "Then be advised and take no chances." 
 
 Alison had been pacing to and fro, impatiently. Now 
 she stopped, looking down at him without any abate 
 ment of her show of temper. 
 
 "You 're as bad as all the rest," she complained. 
 "I 'm a woman grown, in full possession of my fac 
 ulties. The collar is perfectly safe in my care. It 's 
 here, in this room, securely locked up." 
 
 "But someone might break in while you 're out h 
 
 " Either Jane is here all the time, or I am. It 's 
 never left to itself a single instant. It 's perfectly 
 ridiculous to suppose we 're going to let anybody rob 
 us of it. Besides, where would a thief go with it, if 
 he did succeed in stealing it overboard?" 
 
 " I 'm willing to risk a small bet he 'd manage to 
 hide it so that it would take the whole ship's com 
 pany, and a heap of good luck into the bargain, to 
 find it." 
 
 "Well," said the woman defiantly, "I 'm not afraid, 
 and I 'm not going to be browbeaten by any scare-cat 
 purser into behaving like a kiddie afraid of the dark.
 
 82 THE BANDBOX 
 
 I 'm quite competent to look after my own property, 
 and I purpose doing so without anybody's supervision. 
 Now let's have that understood, Staff; and don't 
 you bother me any more about this matter." 
 
 "Thanks," said Staff drily; "I fancy you can count 
 on me to know when I 'm asked to mind my own busi 
 ness." 
 
 " Oh, I did n't mean that not that way, dear boy 
 but" 
 
 At this juncture the maid entered with the bandbox, 
 and Alison broke off with an exclamation of diverted 
 interest. 
 
 "There! Let's say no more about this tiresome 
 jewel business. I 'm sure this is going to prove ever so 
 much more amusing. Open it, Jane, please." 
 
 In another moment the hat was in her hands and 
 both she and Jane were giving passably good imita 
 tions modified by their respective personalities 
 of Milly's awe-smitten admiration of the thing. 
 
 Staff was conscious of a sensation of fatigue. Bend 
 ing over, he drew the bandbox to him and began to 
 examine the wrappings and wads of tissue-paper which 
 it still contained. 
 
 "It 's a perfect dear!" said Miss Landis in accents of 
 the utmost sincerity. 
 
 "Indeed, mum," chimed Jane, antiphonal.
 
 ISMAY? 83 
 
 "Whoever your anonymous friend may be, she has 
 exquisite taste." 
 
 "Indeed, mum," chanted the chorus. 
 
 "May I try it on, Staff?" 
 
 "What?" said the young man absently, absorbed in 
 his search. "Oh, yes; certainly. Help yourself." 
 
 Alison moved across to the long mirror set in the 
 door communicating with her bedroom. Here she 
 paused, carefully adjusting the hat to her shapely 
 head. 
 
 "Now, sir!" she exclaimed, turning. 
 
 Staff sat back in his chair and looked his fill of admi 
 ration. The hat might have been designed expressly for 
 no other purpose than to set off this woman's imperious 
 loveliness: such was the thought eloquent in his 
 expression. 
 
 Satisfied with his dumb tribute, Alison lifted off the 
 hat and deposited it upon a table. 
 
 "Find anything?" she asked lightly. 
 
 "Not a word," said he "not a sign of a clue.'* 
 
 "What a disappointment!" she sighed. "I 'm wild 
 to know. . . . Suppose," said she, posing herself 
 before him, "suppose the owner never did turn up 
 after all?" 
 
 "Hum" said Staff, perturbed by such a prospect. 
 
 "What would you do with it?"
 
 84 THE BANDBOX 
 
 "Hum" said he a second time, non-committal. 
 
 "You couldn't wear it yourself; it 's hardly an 
 ornament for a bachelor's study. What would you do 
 with it?" 
 
 " I think," said Staff, " I hear my cue to say : I 'd give 
 it to the most beautiful woman alive, of course." 
 
 "Thank you, dear," returned Alison serenely. 
 "Don't forget." 
 
 She moved back to her chair, humming a little tune 
 almost inaudibly; and in passing lightly brushed his 
 forehead with her hand the ghost of a caress. 
 
 " You may go, Jane," said she, sitting down to face 
 her lover; and when the maid had shut herself out of 
 the room: "Now, dear, read me our play," said 
 Alison, composing herself to attention. 
 
 Staff took up his manuscript and began to read 
 aloud. . . . 
 
 Three hours elapsed before he put aside the fourth 
 act and turned expectantly to Alison. 
 
 Elbow on knee and chin in hand, eyes fixed upon his 
 face, she sat as one entranced, unable still to shake off 
 the spell of his invention: more lovely, he thought, in 
 this mood of thoughtfulness even than in her brightest 
 animation. . . . Then with a little sigh she roused, 
 relaxed her pose, and sat back, faintly smiling. 
 
 " Well? " he asked diffidently. " What do you think? "
 
 I S M A Y ? 85 
 
 "It's splendid," she said with a soft, warm glow 
 of enthusiasm "simply splendid. It's coherent, it 
 hangs together from start to finish; you Ve got little 
 to learn about construction, my dear. And my part 
 is magnificent: never have I had such a chance to show 
 what I can do with comedy. I 'm delighted beyond 
 words. But ..." She sighed again, distrait. 
 
 "But ?" he repeated anxiously. 
 
 "There are one or two minor things," she said with 
 shadowy regret, "that you will want to change, I 
 think: nothing worth mentioning, nothing important 
 enough to mar the wonderful cleverness of it all." 
 
 " But tell me ?" 
 
 "Oh, it 's hardly worth talking about, dear boy. 
 Only there 's the ingenue role; you 've given her 
 too much to do; she 's on the stage in all of 
 my biggest scenes, and has business enough in 
 them to spoil my best effects. Of course, that can 
 be arranged. And then the leading man's part I 
 don't want to seem hypercritical, but he 's altogether 
 too clever; you mustn't let him overshadow the 
 heroine the way he does; some of his business is 
 plainly hers I can see myself doing it infinitely 
 better than any leading man we could afford to 
 engage. And those witty lines you Ve put into his 
 mouth I must have them; you won't find it hard,
 
 86 THE BANDBOX 
 
 I 'm sure, to twist the lines a bit, so that they come 
 from the heroine rather than the hero. ..." 
 
 Staff held up a warning hand, and laughed. 
 
 "Just a minute, Alison," said he. "Remember this 
 is a play, not a background for you. And with a play 
 it 's much as with matrimony: if either turns out to be 
 a monologue it 's bound to be a failure." 
 
 Alison frowned slightly, then forced a laugh, and rose. 
 "You authors are all alike," she complained, pouting; 
 " I mean, as authors. But I 'm not going to have any 
 trouble with you, dear boy. We '11 agree on everything; 
 I 'm going to be reasonable and you ' ve got to be. Be 
 sides, we Ve heaps of time to talk it over. Now I 'm 
 going to change and get up on deck. Will you wait for 
 me in the saloon, outside? I shan't be ten minutes." 
 
 "Will I?" he laughed. "Your only trouble will be 
 to keep me away from your door, this trip." He 
 gathered up his manuscript and steamer-cap, then with 
 his hand on the door-knob paused. "Oh, I forgot that 
 blessed bandbox!" 
 
 "Never mind that now," said Alison. "I'll have 
 Jane repack it and take it back to your steward. 
 Besides, I 'm in a hurry, stifling for fresh air. Just give 
 me twenty minutes. ..." 
 
 She offered him a hand, and he bowed his lips to it; 
 then quietly let himself out into the alleyway.
 
 VI 
 
 IFF? 
 
 LATE that night, Staff drifted into the smoking- 
 room, which he found rather sparsely patron 
 ised. This fact surprised him no less than its 
 explanation: it was after eleven o'clock. He had 
 hardly realised the flight of time, so absorbed had 
 he been all evening in argument with Alison Landis. 
 
 There remained in the smoking-room, at this late 
 hour, but half a dozen detached men, smoking and 
 talking over their nightcaps, and one table of 
 bridge players in whose number, of course, there 
 was Mr. Iff. 
 
 Nodding abstractedly to the little man, Staff 
 found a quiet corner and sat him down with a sigh 
 and a shake of his head that illustrated vividly his 
 frame of mind. He was a little blue and more than a 
 little distressed. And this was nothing but natural, 
 since he was still in the throes of the discovery that 
 one man can hardly with success play the dual role of 
 playwright and sweetheart to a successful actress. 
 
 87
 
 88 THE BANDBOX 
 
 Alison was charming, he told himself, a woman 
 incomparable, tenderly sweet and desirable; and 
 he loved her beyond expression. But ... his 
 play was also more than a slight thing in his life. 
 It meant a good deal to him; he had worked hard 
 and put the best that was in him into its making; and 
 hard as the work had been, it had been a labour 
 of love. He was n't a man to overestimate his 
 ability; he possessed a singularly sane and clear 
 appreciation of the true value of his work, harbour 
 ing no illusions as to his real status either as drama 
 tist or novelist. But at the same time, he knew 
 when he had done good work. And A Single Woman 
 promised to be a good play, measured by modern 
 standards: not great, but sound and clear and 
 strong. The plot was of sufficient originality to 
 command attention; the construction was clear, 
 sane, inevitable; he had mixed the elements of 
 comedy and drama with the deftness of a sure hand; 
 and he had carefully built up the characters in true 
 proportion to one another and to their respective 
 significance in the action. 
 
 Should all this then, be garbled and distorted to 
 satisfy a woman's passion for the centre of the stage? 
 Must he be untrue to the fundamentals of drama 
 turgic art in order to earn her tolerance? Could
 
 IFF? 89 
 
 he gain his own consent to present to the public as 
 work representative of his fancy the misshapen 
 monstrosity which would inevitably result of yield 
 ing to Alison's insistence? 
 
 Small wonder that he sighed and wagged a doleful 
 head! 
 
 Now while all this was passing through a mind 
 wrapped in gloomy and profound abstraction, Iff's 
 voice disturbed him. 
 
 "Pity the poor playwright!" it said in accents 
 of amusement. 
 
 Looking up, Staff discovered that the little man 
 stood before him, a furtive twinkle in his pale 
 blue eyes. The bridge game had broken up, and 
 they two were now alone in the smoking-room 
 saving the presence of a steward yawning sleepily 
 and wishing to 'Eaven they 'd turn in and give 'im 
 a charnce to snatch a wink o' sleep. 
 
 "Hello/' said Staff, none too cordially. "What 
 d' you mean by that? " 
 
 "Hello," responded Iff, dropping upon the cush 
 ioned seat beside him. He snapped his fingers at 
 the steward. "Give it a name," said he. 
 
 Staff gave it a name. "You don't answer me," 
 he persisted. "Why pity the poor playwright?" 
 
 "He has his troubles," quoth Mr. Iff cheerfully,
 
 90 THE BANDBOX 
 
 if vaguely. "Need I enumerate them, to you? Any 
 way, if the poor playwright is n't to be pitied, what 
 right Ve you got to stick round here looking like 
 that?" 
 
 "Oh!" Staff laughed uneasily. "I was think 
 ing " 
 
 "I flattered you to the extent of surmising as 
 much." Iff elevated one of the glasses which had 
 just been put before them. "Chin-chin," said he 
 " that is, if you 've no particular objection to chin- 
 chinning with a putative criminal of the d'p'st 
 dye?" 
 
 "None whatever," returned Staff, lifting his own 
 glass " at least, not so long as it affords me con 
 tinued opportunity to watch him cooking up his 
 cunning little crimes." 
 
 "Ah!" cried Iff with enthusiasm "there spoke 
 the true spirit of Sociological Research. Long may 
 you rave!" 
 
 He set down an empty glass. 
 
 Staff laughed, sufficiently diverted to forget his 
 troubles for the time being. 
 
 "I wish I could make you out," he said slowly, 
 eyeing the older man. 
 
 "You mean you hope I 'm not going to take you 
 in."
 
 IFF? 91 
 
 "Either way or both: please yourself." 
 
 "Ah!" said the little man appreciatively "I am 
 a deep one, ain't I?" 
 
 He laid a finger alongside his nose and looked 
 unutterably enigmatic. 
 
 At this point they were interrupted: a man burst 
 into the smoking-room from the deck and pulled up 
 breathing heavily, as if he had been running, while 
 he raked the room with quick, enquiring glances. 
 Staff recognised Mr. Manvers, the purser, betraying 
 every evidence of a disturbed mind. At the same 
 moment, Manvers caught sight of the pair in the 
 corner and made for them. 
 
 "Mr. Ismay " he began, halting before their 
 table and glaring gloomily at Staff's companion. 
 
 "I beg your pardon," said the person addressed, 
 icily; "my name is Iff." 
 
 Manvers made an impatient movement with one 
 hand. " Iff or Ismay it 's all one to me to 
 you too, I fancy " 
 
 "One moment!" snapped Iff, rising. "If you 
 were an older man," he said stiffly, "and a smaller, 
 I 'd pull your impertinent nose, sir! As things 
 stand, I 'd probably get my head punched if I did." 
 
 "That's sound logic," returned Manvers with a 
 sneer.
 
 92 THE BANDBOX 
 
 "Well, then, sir? What do you want with me?" 
 
 Manvers changed his attitude to one of sardonic 
 civility. "The captain sent me to ask you if you 
 would be kind enough to step up to his cabin," he 
 said stiltedly. " May I hope you will be good enough 
 to humour him?" 
 
 "Most assuredly," Iff picked up his steamer-cap 
 and set it jauntily upon his head. "Might one 
 enquire the cause of all this-here fluster?" 
 
 "I daresay the captain " 
 
 "Oh, very well. If you won't talk, my dear 
 purser, I '11 hazard a shrewd guess by your leave." 
 
 The purser stared. "What 's that?" 
 
 "I was about to say," pursued Iff serenely, "that 
 I '11 lay two to one that the Cadogan collar has 
 disappeared." 
 
 Manvers continued to stare, his eyes blank with 
 amazement. "You 've got your nerve with you, I 
 must say," he growled. 
 
 "Or guilty knowledge? Which, Mr. Manvers?'* 
 
 A reply seemed to tremble on Manver's lips, but 
 to be withheld at discretion. " I 'm not the captain," 
 he said after a slight pause; "go and cheek him 
 as far as you like. And we 're keeping him waiting, 
 if I may be permitted to mention it." 
 
 Iff turned to Staff, with an engaging smile. "Re-
 
 IFF? 93 
 
 jecting the guilty knowledge hypothesis, for the 
 sake of the argument," said he: "you '11 admit I 'm 
 the only suspicious personage known to be aboard; 
 so it 's not such a wild guess that the collar has 
 vanished when I 'm sent for by the captain at 
 this unearthly hour. . . . Lead on, Mr. Manvers," 
 he wound up with a dramatic gesture. 
 
 The purser nodded and turned toward the door* 
 Staff jumped up and followed the pair. 
 
 "You don't mind my coming?" he asked. 
 
 " No wish you would ; you can bear witness- 
 to the captain that I did everything in my power 
 to make Miss Landis appreciate the danger " 
 
 "Then," Iff interrupted suavely, "the collar has 
 disappeared we 're to understand?" 
 
 "Yes," the purser assented shortly. 
 
 They scurried forward and mounted the ladder to 
 the boat-deck, where the captain's quarters were 
 situated in the deckhouse immediately abaft the 
 bridge. From an open door for the night was 
 as warm as it was dark a wide stream of light 
 fell athwart the deck, like gold upon black velvet. 
 
 Pausing en silhouette against the glow, the purser 
 knocked discreetly. Iff ranged up beside him, 
 dwarfed by comparison. Staff held back at a little 
 distance.
 
 94 THE BANDBOX 
 
 A voice from within barked: "Oh, come in!" 
 Iff and Manvers obeyed. Staff paused on the 
 threshold, bending his head to escape the lintel. 
 
 Standing thus, he appreciated the tableau: the 
 neat, tidy little room commodious for a steam 
 ship glistening with white-enamelled woodwork 
 in the radiance of half a dozen electric bulbs; Alison 
 in a steamer-coat seated on the far side of a chart- 
 table, her colouring unusually pallid, her brows 
 knitted and eyes anxious; the maid, Jane, standing 
 respectfully behind her mistress; Manvers to one 
 side and out of the way, but plainly eager and dis 
 traught; Iff in the centre of the stage, his slight, 
 round-shouldered figure lending him a deceptive 
 effect of embarrassment which was only enhanced 
 by his semi-placating, semi-wistful smile and his 
 small, blinking eyes; the captain looming over him, 
 authority and menace incarnate in his heavy, 
 square-set, sturdy body and heavy-browed, square- 
 jawed, beardless and weathered face. . . . 
 
 Manvers said: "This is Mr. Iff, Captain Cobb." 
 
 The captain nodded brusquely. His hands were 
 in his coat-pockets; he did n't offer to remove 
 them. Iff blinked up at him and cocked his small 
 head critically to one side, persistently smiling. 
 
 "I've heard so much of you, sir," he said in a
 
 IFF? 95 
 
 husky, weary voice, very subdued. " It 's a real 
 pleasure to make your acquaintance." 
 
 Captain Cobb noticed this bit of effrontery by 
 nothing more than a growl deep in this throat. His 
 eyes travelled on, above Iff's head, and Staff was 
 conscious of their penetrating and unfriendly ques 
 tion. He bowed uncertainly. 
 
 "Oh and Mr. Staff," said Manvers hastily. 
 
 "Well?" said the captain without moving. 
 
 " A friend of Miss Landis and also curiously 
 in the same room with Mr. Iff. ' ' 
 
 "Ah," remarked the captain. "How-d'-you-do?" 
 He removed his right hand from its pocket and 
 held it out with the air of a man who wishes it under 
 stood that by such action he commits himself to 
 nothing. 
 
 Before Staff could grasp it, Iff shook it heartily. 
 "Ah," he said blandly, "h' are ye?" Then he 
 dropped the hand, thereby preventing the captain 
 from wrenching it away, and averted his eyes mod 
 estly, thereby escaping the captain's outraged glare. 
 
 Staff managed to overcome an impulse to laugh 
 idiotically, and gravely shook hands with the cap 
 tain. He had already exchanged a glance with the 
 lady of his heart's desire. 
 
 An insanely awkward pause marked Iff's exhibi-
 
 96 THE BANDBOX 
 
 tion of matchless impudence. Each hesitated to 
 speak while the captain was occupied with a vain 
 attempt to make Iff realise his position by scowling 
 at him out of a blood-congested countenance. But 
 of this, Iff appeared to be wholly unconscious. 
 When the situation seemed all but unendurable for 
 another second (Staff for one was haunted by the 
 fear that he would throw back his head and bray 
 like a mule) Manvers took it upon himself to ease 
 the tension, hardily earning the undying gratitude 
 of all the gathering. 
 
 "I asked Mr. Staff to come and tell you, sir," he 
 said haltingly, "that I spoke to him about this 
 matter the very night we left Queenstown asked 
 him to do what he could to make Miss Landis 
 appreciate " 
 
 "I see," the captain cut him short. 
 
 "That is so," Staff affirmed. "Unfortunately 
 I had no opportunity until this afternoon " 
 
 Alison interposed quietly: "I am quite ready 
 to exonerate Mr. Manvers from all blame. In fact, 
 he has really annoyed me with his efforts to induce 
 me to turn the collar over to his care." 
 
 "Thank you," said Manvers bowing. 
 
 There was the faintest tinge of sarcasm in the 
 acknowledgment. Staff could see that Alison felt
 
 IFF? 97 
 
 and resented it; and the thought popped into his 
 mind, and immediately out again, that she was 
 scarcely proving herself generous. 
 
 "It 's a very serious matter," announced the cap 
 tain heavily " serious for the service : for the 
 officers, for the good name of the ship, for the repu 
 tation of the company. This is the second time a 
 crime of this nature had been committed aboard 
 the Autocratic within a period of eighteen months 
 less than that, in fact. It was June, a year ago, that 
 Mrs. Burden Hamman's jewels were stolen on 
 the eastbound passage, I believe." 
 
 "We sailed from New York, June 22," affirmed 
 the purser. 
 
 " I want, therefore," continued the captain, "to 
 ask you all to preserve silence about this affair until 
 it has been thoroughly sifted. I believe the knowl 
 edge of the theft is confined to those present." 
 
 "Quite so, sir," agreed the purser. 
 
 "May I ask how it happened?" Staff put in. 
 
 The captain swung on his heel and bowed to 
 Alison. She bent forward, telling her story with 
 brevity and animation. 
 
 "You remember" she looked at Staff "when 
 we met in the saloon, about half-past five, and went 
 on deck? . . . Well, right after that, Jane left my
 
 98 THE BANDBOX 
 
 rooms to return the hat you had been showing me 
 to your steward. She was gone not over five min 
 utes, and she swears the door was locked all the time; 
 she remembers locking it when she went out and 
 unlocking it when she returned. There was no 
 indication that anybody had been in the rooms, 
 except one that we did n't discover until I started 
 to go to bed, a little while ago. Then I thought of 
 my jewels. They were all kept in this handbag" 
 she dropped a hand upon a rather small Law 
 rence bag of tan leather on the table before her 
 "under my bed, behind the steamer trunk. I told 
 Jane to see if it was all right. She got it out, 
 and then we discovered that this had happened 
 to it." 
 
 She turned the bag so that the other side was 
 presented for inspection, disclosing the fact that 
 some sharp instrument had been used to cut a great 
 flap out of the leather, running in a rough semicircle 
 from clasp to clasp of the frame. 
 
 "It was n't altogether empty," she declared with 
 a trace of wonder in her voice; "but that only 
 makes it all the more mysterious. All my ordinary 
 jewels were untouched; nothing had been taken 
 except the case that held the Cadogan collar." 
 
 "And the collar itself, I hope?" Iff put in quietly.
 
 IFF? 99 
 
 The actress turned upon him with rising colour. 
 
 "You hope !" she exclaimed. 
 
 The little man made a deprecatory gesture. " Why, 
 yes," he said. "It would seem a pity that a crook 
 cute enough to turn a trick as neat as that should 
 have got nothing for his pains but a velvet-lined 
 leather case, worth perhaps a dollar and a half 
 or say two dollars at the outside, if you make a point 
 of that." 
 
 "How do you happen to know it was a velvet- 
 lined leather case?" Alison flashed. 
 
 Iff laughed quietly. "My dear lady," he said, 
 "I priced the necklace at Cottier's in Paris the 
 day before you purchased it. Unfortunately it was 
 beyond my means." 
 
 "A bit thick," commented the purser in an acid 
 voice. 
 
 "Now, listen" Iff turned to face him with a 
 flush of choler " you keep on that way and I '11 
 land on you if it 's the last act of my gay young life. 
 You hear me?" 
 
 "That will do, sir!" barked the captain. 
 
 " I trust so, sincerely," replied Iff. 
 
 "Be silent!" The captain's voice ascended a full 
 octave. 
 
 " Oh, very well, very well. I hear you per-
 
 100 THE BANDBOX 
 
 fectly." With this the little man subsided, smiling 
 feebly at vacancy. 
 
 Staff interposed hastily, in the interests of peace: 
 "The supposition is, then, that the thief got in 
 during those five minutes that Jane was away from 
 the room?" 
 
 " It could n't have happened at any other time, 
 of course," said Alison. 
 
 "And, equally of course, it couldn't have hap 
 pened then," said Iff. 
 
 "Why not?" the woman demanded. 
 
 " The girl was gone only five minutes. That 's 
 right, isn't it?" 
 
 "Yes, sir," said Jane. 
 
 " And the door was locked you 're positive 
 about that?" 
 
 "Quite, sir." 
 
 "Then will anyone explain how any thief could 
 effect an entrance, pull a heavy steamer trunk out 
 from under a bed, get at the bag, cut a slit in its 
 side, extract the leather case and the collar, to 
 be sure replace the bag, replace the trunk, leave 
 the stateroom and lock the door, all in five short 
 minutes and without any key?" Iff wound up 
 triumphantly: "I tell you, it couldn't be done; 
 it ain't human."
 
 IFF? 101 
 
 "But a skeleton-key " Manvers began. 
 
 "O you!" said Iff with a withering glance. 
 "The door to Miss Landis' suite opens directly 
 opposite the head of the main companionway, which 
 is in constant use people going up and down all 
 the time. Can you see anybody, however expert, 
 picking a lock with a bunch of skeleton-keys in that 
 exposed position without being caught red-handed? 
 Not on your vivid imagination, young man." 
 
 "There may, however, be duplicate keys to the 
 staterooms," Alison countered. 
 
 "My dear lady/' said Iff, humbly, "there are; 
 and unless this ship differs radically from others, 
 those duplicate keys are all in the purser's care. 
 Am I right, Mr. Manvers?" 
 
 "Yes," said Manvers sullenly. 
 
 "And here's another point," resumed Iff. "May 
 I ask you a question or two, Miss Landis?" Alison 
 nodded curtly. "You kept the handbag locked, 
 I presume? " 
 
 "Certainly." 
 
 " And when you found it had been tampered with, 
 did you unlock it?" 
 
 "There wasn't any need," said Alison. "You 
 can see for yourself the opening in the side is so 
 large"
 
 102 THE BANDBOX 
 
 "Then you did n't unlock it?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 "That only makes it the more mysterious. Be 
 cause, you see, it 's unlocked now." 
 
 There was a concerted movement of astonishment. 
 
 "How do you make that out, sir?" demanded 
 the captain. 
 
 "You can see for yourself (to borrow Miss Landis' 
 phrase) if you '11 only use your eyes, as I have. The 
 side clasps are in place, all right, but the slide on 
 the lock itself is pushed a trifle to the left; which it 
 could n't be if the bag were locked." 
 
 There was a hint of derision in the little man's 
 voice; and his sarcastic smile was flickering round 
 his thin lips as he put out one hand, drew the bag 
 to him, lifted the clasps, and pushing back the lock- 
 slide, opened it wide. 
 
 "The thot plickens," he observed gravely. "For 
 my part I am unable to imagine any bold and enter 
 prising crook taking the trouble to cut open this 
 bag when the most casual examination would have 
 shown him that it was n't locked." 
 
 " He might 've done it as a blind. ..." Manvers 
 suggested. 
 
 "Officer!" piped Iff in a plaintive voice "he 's 
 in again. "
 
 IFF? 103 
 
 The purser, colouring to the temples, took a step 
 toward the little man, his hands twitching, but at 
 a gesture from the captain paused, controlled him 
 self and fell back. 
 
 For a few moments there was quiet in the v cabin, 
 while those present digested Iff's conclusions and 
 acknowledged their logic irrefragable. Staff caught 
 Alison staring at the man as if fascinated, with a 
 curious, intense look in her eyes the significance of 
 which he could not fathom. 
 
 Then the pause was brought to an end by the 
 captain. He shifted his position abruptly, so that 
 he towered over Iff, scowling down upon him. 
 
 "That will do," he said ominously. "I'm tired 
 of this; say what you will, you have n't hoodwinked 
 me, and you shan't." 
 
 "My dear sir!" protested Iff in amazement. 
 " Hoodwink you ? Why, I 'm merely trying to make 
 you see " 
 
 " You 've succeeded in making me see one thing 
 clearly: that you know more about this robbery 
 than you 've any right to know." 
 
 " Oh, you-all make me tired," complained Iff. 
 "Now you have just heard Miss Landis declare 
 that this collar of pearls vanished between, say, 
 five-thirty and five-forty-five. Well, I can prove
 
 104 THE BANDBOX 
 
 by the testimony of three other passengers, and I 
 don't know how many more, to say nothing of your 
 smoke-room stewards, that I was playing bridge 
 from four until after six." 
 
 "Ah, yes," put in the purser sweetly, "but you 
 yourself have just demonstrated conclusively that 
 the robbery could n't have taken place at the hour 
 mentioned." 
 
 Iff grinned appreciatively. "You're improving," 
 he said. " I guess that does n't get you even with 
 me for the rest of your life what?" 
 
 "Moreover," Manvers went on doggedly, "Ismay 
 always could prove a copper-riveted alibi." 
 
 "That's one of the best little things he does," 
 admitted Iff cheerfully. 
 
 "You don't deny you 're Ismay?" This from the 
 captain, aggressive and domineering. 
 
 "I don't have to, dear sir; I just ain't that 's 
 the answer." 
 
 "You've been recognised," insisted the captain. 
 "You were on this ship the time of the Burden 
 Hamman robbery. Mr. Manvers knows you by 
 sight; I, too, recognise you." 
 
 "Sorry," murmured Iff "so sorry, but you're 
 wrong. Case of mistaken identity, I give you my 
 word."
 
 IFF? 105 
 
 "Your word!" snapped the captain contemp 
 tuously. 
 
 "My word," retorted Iff in a crisp voice; "and 
 more than that, I don't ask you to take it. I 've 
 proofs of my identity which I think will satisfy 
 even you." 
 
 "Produce them." 
 
 "In my own good time." Iff put his back against 
 the wall and lounged negligently, surveying the circle 
 of unfriendly faces with his odd, supercilious eyes, 
 half veiled by their hairless lids. " Since you 've 
 done me the honour to impute to me guilty knowl 
 edge of this ah crime, I don't mind admitting 
 that I was a passenger on the Autocratic when Mrs. 
 Burden Hamman lost her jewels; and it was n't a 
 coincidence, either. I was with you for a purpose 
 to look out for those jewels. I shared a room with 
 Ismay, and when, after the robbery, you mistook 
 me for him, he naturally did n't object, and I did n't 
 because it left me all the freer to prosecute my in 
 vestigation. In fact, it was due to my efforts that 
 Ismay found things getting too hot for him over in 
 London and arranged to return the jewelry to Mrs. 
 Hamman for an insignificant ransom not a tithe 
 of their value. But he was hard pressed; if he 'd 
 delayed another day, I 'd 've had him with the
 
 106 THE BANDBOX 
 
 goods on. ... That," said Iff pensively, "was when 
 I was in the Pinkerton service." 
 
 "Ah, it was?" said the captain with much irony. 
 "And what, pray, do you claim to be now?" 
 
 "Just a plain, ordinary, everyday sleuth in the 
 employ of the United States Secret Service, detailed 
 to work with the Customs Office to prevent smug 
 gling the smuggling of such articles as, say, the 
 Cadogan collar." 
 
 In the silence that followed this astounding dec 
 laration, the little man hunched up his shoulders 
 until they seemed more round than ever, and again 
 subjected the faces of those surrounding him to the 
 stare of his impertinent, pale eyes. Staff, more de 
 tached in attitude than any of the others present, 
 for his own amusement followed the range of Iff'* 
 gaze. 
 
 Captain Cobb was scowling thoughtfully. Man- 
 vers wore a look of deepest chagrin. Jane's jaw had 
 fallen and her eyes seemed perilously protrudant. 
 Alison was leaning gracefully back in her chair 
 her pose studied but charmingly effective while 
 she favoured Iff with a scrutiny openly incredulous 
 and disdainful. 
 
 " You say you have proofs of this ah asser 
 tion of yours?" demanded the captain at length.
 
 IFF? 107 
 
 "Oh, yes surely yes." Iff's tone was almost 
 apologetic. He thrust a hand between his shirt and 
 waistcoat, fumbled a moment as if unbuttoning 
 a pocket, and brought forth a worn leather wallet 
 from which, with great and exasperating deliberation, 
 he produced a folded paper. This he handed the 
 captain his manner, if possible, more than ever self- 
 effacing and meek. 
 
 The paper (it was parchment) crackled crisply 
 in the captain's fingers. He spread it out and held 
 it to the light in such a position that Staff could 
 see it over his shoulder. He was unable to read 
 its many closely inscribed lines, but the heading 
 "Treasury Department, Washington, D. C." was 
 boldly conspicuous, as well as an imposing official 
 seal and the heavily scrawled signature of the 
 Secretary of the Treasury. 
 
 Beneath the blue cloth, the captain's shoulders 
 moved impatiently. Staff heard him say something 
 indistinguishable, but of an intonation calculated 
 to express his emotion. 
 
 Iff giggled nervously: "Oh, captain! the ladies " 
 
 Holding himself very stiff and erect, Captain 
 Cobb refolded the document and ceremoniously 
 handed it back to the little man. 
 
 "I beg your pardon," he said in a low voice.
 
 108 THE BANDBOX 
 
 "Don't mention it," begged Iff. He replaced the 
 paper in his wallet, the wallet in his pocket. " I 'm 
 sure it 's quite an excusable mistake on your part, 
 captain dear. ... As for you, Mr. Manvers, you 
 need n't apologise to me," he added maliciously: 
 "just make your apologies to Captain Cobb."
 
 VII 
 
 STOLE AWAT! 
 
 A4D then (it seemed most astonishing!) nothing 
 happened. The net outcome of all this fuss and 
 fluster was precisely nil. With the collapse of the 
 flimsy structure of prejudice and suspicion in which 
 Manvers had sought to trap Iff, the interest of all 
 concerned seemed to simmer off into apathy. Nobody 
 did anything helpful, offered any useful suggestion or 
 brought to light anything illuminating. Staff could n't 
 understand it, for the life of him. . . . 
 
 There was, to be sure, a deal more talk in the cap 
 tain's cabin talk hi which the purser took little or 
 no part. As a matter of fact, Manvers kept far in the 
 background and betrayed every indication of a desire 
 to crawl under the table and be a good dog. The cap 
 tain had his say, however, and in the end (since he was 
 rather emphatic about it) his way. 
 
 He earnestly desired that the matter should be kept 
 quiet; it would do no good, he argued, to noise it about 
 amongst the passengers; the news would only excite 
 
 109
 
 110 THE BANDBOX 
 
 them and possibly (in some obscure and undesignated 
 fashion) impede official investigation. He would, of 
 course, spare no pains to fathom the mystery; drastic 
 measures would be taken to secure the detection of the 
 culprit and the restitution of the necklace to its right 
 ful owner. The ship would be minutely, if quietly, 
 searched; not a member of the crew, from captain to 
 stoker, would be spared, nor any passenger against 
 whom there might develop the least cause for suspicion. 
 Detectives would meet the ship at New York and co 
 operate with the customs officials in a most minute 
 investigation of the passengers' effects. Everything 
 possible would be done trust the captain! In the 
 meantime, he requested all present to regard the case 
 as confidential. 
 
 Iff concurred, somewhat gravely, somewhat diffi 
 dently. He was disposed to make no secret of the fact 
 that his presence on board was directly due to the miss 
 ing necklace. He had been set to watch Miss Landis, 
 to see that she did n't smuggle the thing into the United 
 States. He hoped she wouldn't take offense of this: 
 such was his business; he had received his orders and 
 had no choice but to obey them. (And, so far as was 
 discernible, Miss Landis did not resent his espionage; 
 but she seemed interested and, Staff fancied, consider 
 ably diverted.) Mr. Iff could promise Miss Landis that
 
 STOLE AWAY 111 
 
 he would leave no stone unturned in his private in 
 quiry; and his work, likewise, would be considerably 
 facilitated if the affair were kept quiet. He ventured 
 to second the captain's motion. 
 
 Miss Landis offered no objection; Staff and Manvers 
 volunteered to maintain discretion, Jane was sworn to 
 it. Motion seconded and carried : the meeting adjourned 
 sine die; the several parties thereto separated and went 
 to their respective quarters. 
 
 Staff accompanied Alison as far as her stateroom, 
 but did n't tarry long over his second good-nights. 
 The young woman seemed excusably tired and nervous 
 and anxious to be alone in no mood to discuss this 
 overwhelming event. So Staff spared her. 
 
 In his own stateroom he found Mr. Iff half -undressed, 
 sitting on the transom and chuckling noiselessly, ap 
 parently in such a transport of amusement that he 
 did n't care whether he ever got to bed or not. Upon 
 the entrance of his roommate, however, he dried his 
 eyes and made an effort to contain himself. 
 
 "You seem to think this business funny," suggested 
 Staff, not at all approvingly. 
 
 " I do," laughed the little man "I do, indeed. It 's 
 a grand young joke clutch it from me, my friend." 
 
 "In what respect, particularly, do you find it so 
 vastly entertaining?"
 
 112 THE BANDBOX 
 
 "Oh ... is n't that ass Manvers enough?" 
 Further than this, Mr. Iff declined to be interviewed. 
 He clambered briskly into his berth and chuckled 
 himself to sleep. Staff considered his behaviour highly 
 annoying. 
 
 But it was on the following day the last of the 
 voyage that he found reason to consider the affair 
 astonishing because of the lack of interest displayed by 
 those personally involved. He made no doubt but that 
 the captain was keeping his word to the extent of con 
 ducting a secret investigation, though no signs of any 
 such proceeding appeared on the surface of the ship's 
 life. But Alison he could not understand; she seemed 
 to have cast care to the winds. She appeared at break 
 fast in the gayest of spirits, spent the entire morning 
 and most of the afternoon on deck, the centre of an 
 animated group shepherded by the indefatigable Mrs. 
 Ilkington, dressed herself radiantly for the grand final 
 dinner, flirted with the assiduously attentive Arkroyd 
 until she had reduced Staff to the last stages of corroded 
 jealousy, and in general (as Staff found a chance to 
 tell her) seemed to be having the time of her life. 
 " And why not? " she countered. " Spilt milk ! " 
 "Judged by your conduct," observed Staff, "one 
 would be justified in thinking the Cadogan collar an 
 article de Paris."
 
 STOLE AWAY! 113 
 
 "One might think any number of foolish things, 
 dear boy. If the collar 's gone, it 's gone, and 
 not all the moping and glooming imaginable will 
 bring it back to me. If I do get it back why, 
 that '11 be simply good luck; and I Ve never found 
 it profitable yet to court Fortune with a doleful 
 mouth." 
 
 "You certainly practise your theory," he said. "I 
 swear I believe I 'm more concerned about your loss 
 than you are." 
 
 "Certainly you are, you silly boy. For my part, I 
 feel quite confident the necklace will be returned." 
 
 He stared. "Why?" 
 
 She opened her hands expressively. " I Ve always 
 been lucky. . . . Besides, if I never see it again, it '11 
 come back to me this way or that in advertising, 
 for one." 
 
 " Is n't that dodge pretty well worked out with the 
 newspapers? It seems to me that it has come to that, 
 of late; or else the prime donne have taken to guarding 
 their valuables with greater care." 
 
 "Oh, that makes no difference. With another 
 woman it might, but I" she shrugged "I 'm 
 Alison Landis, if you please. The papers won't 
 neglect me. Besides, Max can do much as he likes 
 with them."
 
 114 THE BANDBOX 
 
 " Have you ?" 
 
 "Of course by wireless, first thing this morning." 
 
 "But you promised " 
 
 "Don't be tiresome, Staff. I bought this necklace 
 on Max's suggestion, as an advertisement I meant to 
 wear it in A Single Woman; that alone would help 
 make our play a go. Since I can't get my advertising 
 and have my necklace, too, why, in goodness' name, 
 may n't I get what I can out of it? " 
 
 "Oh, well . . ." 
 
 Staff abandoned argument and resting his forearms 
 on the rail, stared sombrely out over the darkling waters 
 for a moment or two. 
 
 This was at night, during an intermission in a dance 
 on deck which had been arranged by special permission 
 of the weather the latter holding very calm and 
 warm. Between halves Staff had succeeded in dis 
 entangling Alison from a circle of admirers and had 
 marched her up to the boat-deck, where there was less 
 light aside from that furnished by an obliging moon 
 and more solitude. 
 
 Under any other circumstances Staff would have 
 been enchanted with the situation. They were quite 
 alone, if not unobserved; and there was magic in the 
 night, mystery and romance in the moonlight, the inky 
 shadows, the sense of swift movement through space
 
 STOLE AWAY 115 
 
 illimitable. Alison stood with back to the rail so near 
 him that his elbow almost touched the artificial orchid 
 that adorned her corsage. He was acutely sensitive 
 of her presence, of the faint persistent odour of her 
 individual perfume, of the beauty and grace of her 
 strong, free-limbed body in its impeccable Paquin 
 gown, of the sheen of her immaculate arms and shoul 
 ders and the rich warmth of her face with its alluring, 
 shadowed eyes that seemed to mock him with light, 
 fascinating malice, of the magnetism of her intense, 
 ineluctable vitality diffused as naturally as sunlight. 
 But the thought rankled Arkroyd had won three 
 dances to his two; and through all that day Alison 
 had seemed determined to avoid him, to keep herself 
 surrounded by an obsequious crowd, impenetrable to 
 her lover. . . . 
 
 On the deck below the band began to play again: 
 signalling the end of the intermission. Alison hummed 
 lightly a bit of the melody, her silken slipper tapping 
 the deck. 
 
 "Do I get another dance?" he asked suddenly. 
 
 She broke off her humming. "So sorry," she said; 
 " my card is quite full and running over." 
 
 "May I see it?" She surrendered it without hesi 
 tation. He frowned, endeavouring to decipher the 
 scrawl by the inadequate moonlight.
 
 116 THE BANDBOX 
 
 "You wanted to know ?" she enquired, with a 
 laugh back of her tone. 
 
 "How many has Arkroyd, this half?" he demanded 
 bluntly. 
 
 " Two, I think," she answered coolly. " Why? " 
 
 He stared gravely into her shadowed face. "Is that 
 good advertising, too," he asked quietly "to show 
 marked preference to a man of Arkroyd's calibre and 
 reputation? " 
 
 Alison laughed. "You 're delicious when you 're 
 jealous, Staff," said she. "No; it is n't advertising 
 it 's discipline." 
 
 "Discipline?" 
 
 "Just that. I 'm punishing you for your obstinacy 
 about the play. You '11 see, my dear," she taunted 
 him: "I 'm going to have my own way or make your 
 life perfectly miserable." 
 
 Before he could invent an adequate retort, the 
 beautiful Mr. Bangs came tripping across the deck, 
 elation in his manner. 
 
 "Ah, there you are, Miss Landis! My dance, you 
 know. Been looking everywhere for you." 
 
 "So sorry: I was just coming down." 
 
 Alison caught up the demi-train of her gown, but 
 paused an instant longer, staring Staff full in the face, 
 her air taunting and provocative.
 
 STOLE AWAY! 117 
 
 " Think it over, Staff," she advised in a cool, metallic 
 voice; and dropping her hand on Bangs' arm, moved 
 languidly away. 
 
 Staff did think it over, if with surprisingly little sat 
 isfaction to himself. It was n't possible to ignore the 
 patent fact that Alison had determined to make him 
 come to heel. That apparently was the only attitude 
 possible for one who aspired to the post of first play- 
 wright-in-waiting and husband-in-ordinary to the first 
 actress in the land. He doubted his ability to supple 
 his back to the requisite degree. Even for the woman 
 he loved. ... Or did he? ... Through the wraith- 
 like mists of fading illusions he caught disturbing 
 glimpses dark shapes of lurking doubts. 
 
 Disquieted, he found distasteful the thought of re 
 turning to the lower deck, and so strolled idly aft with 
 a half -formed notion of looking up Iff. 
 
 From a deck-chair a woman's voice hailed him: "Oh, 
 Mr. Staff. . . ." 
 
 "Miss Searle?" He turned in to her side, experi 
 encing an odd sensation of pleasure in the encounter; 
 which, wisely or not, he did n't attempt to analyse 
 at least further than the thought that he had seen little 
 of the young woman during the last two days and that 
 she was rather likeable. 
 
 "You 're not dancing?" he asked in surprise; for she,
 
 118 THE BANDBOX 
 
 too, had dressed for this celebration of the last night 
 of the voyage. 
 
 Smiling, she shook her head slightly. "Neither are 
 you, apparently. Won't you sit down?" 
 
 He was n't at all reluctant to take the chair by her 
 side. " Why not? " he asked. 
 
 "Oh, I did dance once or twice and then I began to 
 feel a bit tired and bored and stole away to think." 
 
 "Long, long thoughts?" he asked lightly. 
 
 "Rather," said she with becoming gravity. "You 
 see, it seems pretty serious to one, this coming home to 
 face new and unknown conditions after three years' 
 absence. . . . And then, after six days at sea, out of 
 touch with the world, practically, there 's always the 
 feeling of suspense about what will happen when you 
 get solid earth under your feet. You know what I 
 mean." 
 
 "I do. You live in New York?" 
 
 "I mean to try to," she said quietly. "I haven't 
 any home, really no parents and only distant family 
 connections. In fact, all I do possess is a little income 
 and an immense desire to work." 
 
 "You 're meaning to look for an engagement, 
 then?" 
 
 "I must" 
 
 "Perhaps," he said thoughtfully, "I might help
 
 STOLE AWAY! 119 
 
 you a bit; I know some of the managers pretty 
 well . . ." 
 
 "Thank you. I meant to ask you, but hoped you 'd 
 offer." She laughed a trifle shyly. " I presume that 's a 
 bold, forward confession to make, but I 've been so long 
 abroad I don't know my way round at home, anymore." 
 
 "That 's all right," said Staff, liking her candour. 
 "Where shall you be? Where can I find you?" 
 
 "I hardly know for a day or two at some hotel, 
 and as soon as possible in a small studio, if I can find 
 one to sublet." 
 
 "Tell you what you do," he suggested: "drop me a 
 line at the Players, letting me know when and where 
 you settle." 
 
 "Thank you," she said, "I shall." 
 
 He was silent for a little, musing, his gaze wandering 
 far over the placid reaches of the night-wrapped ocean. 
 "Funny little world, this," he said, rousing: "I mean, 
 the ship. Here we are today, some several hundreds 
 of us, all knit together by an intricate network of in 
 terests, aims, ambitions and affections that seem as 
 strong and inescapable as the warp and woof of Life 
 itself; and yet tomorrow we land, we separate on our 
 various ways, and the network vanishes like a dew- 
 gemmed spider's web before the sun." 
 
 "Only the dew vanishes," she reminded him; "the
 
 120 THE BANDBOX 
 
 web remains, if almost invisible. . . . Still, I know 
 what you mean. . . . Wasn't that Miss Landis you 
 were with, just now?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Tell me" she stirred, half turning to him 
 "has anything new transpired about the collar?" 
 
 "You know about that!" he exclaimed in surprise. 
 
 "Of course; the ship has been humming with it ever 
 since dinner." 
 
 "But how ?" 
 
 "Mrs. Ilkington told me, of course. I presume Miss 
 Landis told her." 
 
 "Doubtless," he agreed reluctantly, little relishing 
 the thought. Still, it seemed quite plausible, Alison's 
 views on advertising values considered. "No," he 
 added presently; "I Ve heard nothing new." 
 
 "Then the Secret Service man has n't accomplished 
 anything?" 
 
 "So you know about him, too? . . . Can't say 
 have n't seen him since morning. Presumably he 's 
 somewhere about, sniffing for clues." 
 
 "Miss Landis," said the girl in a hesitant manner 
 "does n't seem to worry very much . . . ?" 
 
 "No," admitted Staff. 
 
 "Either that, or she's as wonderful an actress off 
 the boards as on."
 
 STOLE AWAY! 
 
 "They mostly are," Staff observed. He was hardly 
 ready to criticise his beloved to a comparative stranger. 
 The subject languished and died of inanition. 
 
 "By the way did you ever solve the mystery of 
 your bandbox?" 
 
 Staff started. "What made you think of that?" 
 
 "Oh I don't know." 
 
 "No have n't had any chance. I rather expect to 
 find out something by the time I get home, though. 
 It is n't likely that so beautiful a hat will be permitted 
 to J> ish unseen." His interest quickened. "Won't you 
 telt me, please?" he begged, bending forward. 
 
 I>ut the girl laughed softly and shook her head. 
 
 '"PVise!" 
 Oh, I could n't. I 've no right to spoil a good joke." 
 
 " Th? i you think it 's a joke?" he enquired gloomily. 
 
 "WV- else could it be?" 
 : r wish I knew!" 
 
 Jamation was so fervent that Miss Searle 
 , ain. 
 
 i; sounded in the pause that followed and 
 
 ; up suddenly with a little cry of mock 
 
 ;.. 
 
 '&. .'*. o'clock! Good Heavens, I mustn't loaf 
 another minute! I 've all my packing to do." 
 
 She was up and standing before Staff could offer to
 
 122 THE BANDBOX 
 
 assist her. But she paused long enough to slip a hand 
 into his. 
 
 "Good night, Mr. Staff; and thank you for vol 
 unteering to help me." 
 
 "I shan't forget," he promised. "Good night." 
 
 He remained momentarily where she left him, 
 following with his gaze her tall and slender yet well- 
 proportioned figure as it moved along the moonlit 
 deck, swaying gracefully to the long, smooth, almost 
 imperceptible motion of the ship. 
 
 He wore just then a curious expression: his eyes 
 wondering, his brows puckered, his thin lips shaping 
 into their queer, twisted smile. . . . Funny (he found 
 it) that a fellow could feel so comfortable and content 
 in the company of a woman he did n't care a rap about, 
 so ill at ease and out of sorts when with the mistress of 
 his dreams ! It did n't, somehow, seem just right. . . . 
 
 With a dubious grimace, he went aft. Iff, however, 
 was n't in the smoking-room. Neither was he any 
 where else that Staff could discover in his somewhat 
 aimless wanderings. And he found his stateroom un 
 occupied when at length he decided to turn in. 
 
 "Sleuthing," was the word with which he accounted 
 for the little man's invisibility, as he dropped off to sleep. 
 
 If he were right, Iff was early on the. job. When the 
 bath-steward's knock brought Staff out of his berth
 
 STOLE AWAY! 123 
 
 the next morning, his companion of the voyage was 
 already up and about; his empty berth showed that it 
 had been slept in, but its occupant had disappeared 
 with his clothing; and even his luggage (he travelled 
 light, with a kit-bag and a suit-case for all impedimenta) 
 had been packed and strapped, ready to go ashore. 
 
 "Conscientious," commented the playwright pri 
 vately. "Wonder if he's really on the track of 
 anything?" 
 
 Idle speculation, however, was suddenly drowned in 
 delight when, his sleep-numb faculties clearing, he 
 realised that the Autocratic was resting without way, 
 and a glance out of the stateroom port showed him the 
 steep green slopes of Fort Tompkins glistening in new 
 sunlight. 
 
 Home! He choked back a yell of joy, and raced 
 to his bath. Within twenty minutes, bathed, clothed 
 and sane, he was on deck. 
 
 By now, having taken on the health officers, the great 
 vessel was in motion again, standing majestically up 
 through the Narrows. To starboard, Bay Ridge basked 
 in golden light. Forward, over the starboard bow, 
 beyond leagues of stained water quick with the life of 
 two-score types of harbour and seagoing craft, New 
 York reared its ragged battlements against a sky whose 
 blue had been faded pale by summer heat. Soft airs
 
 124 THE BANDBOX 
 
 and warm breathed down the Bay, bearing to his nos 
 trils that well-kenned, unforgettable odour, like none 
 other on earth, of the sun-scorched city. 
 
 Staff filled his lungs and was glad. It is good to be 
 an American able to go roaming for to admire and for 
 to see; but it is best of all to be an American coming 
 home. 
 
 Joy in his heart, Staff dodged below, made his cus 
 toms declaration, bolted his breakfast (with the 
 greater expedition since he had for company only 
 Mrs. Thataker, a plump, pale envelope for a soul 
 of pink pining for sympathy) and hurried back to the 
 deck. 
 
 Governor's Island lay abeam. Beyond it the East 
 River was opening up spanned by its gossamer 
 webs of steel. Ahead, and near at hand, New York 
 bulked magnificently, purple canyons yawning between 
 its pastel-tinted cliffs of steel and glass and stone: the 
 heat haze, dimming all, lent soft enchantment. . . . 
 
 Ranks of staring passengers hid the rail, each a 
 bundle of unsuspected hopes and fears, longings and 
 apprehensions, keen for the hour of landing that would 
 bring confirmation, denial, disappointment, fulfillment. 
 
 Amidships Staff descried Mrs. Ilkington's head and 
 shoulders next to Miss Searle's profile. Arkroyd was 
 with them and Bangs. Alison he did not see, nor
 
 STOLE AWAY! 125 
 
 Iff. As he hesitated whether or not to approach them, 
 a steward touched his arm apologetically. 
 
 "Beg pardon Mr. Staff? " 
 
 "Yes . . . ?" 
 
 "Mr. Manvers the purser, sir awsked me to 
 request you to be so kind as to step down to Miss 
 Landis' stiteroom." 
 
 "Certainly." 
 
 The door to Alison's sitting-room was ajar. He 
 knocked and heard her voice bid him enter. As he 
 complied it was the purser who shut the door tight 
 behind him. 
 
 He found himself in the presence of Alison, Jane, 
 Manvers and three men whom he did not know. 
 Alison alone was seated, leaning back in an armchair, 
 her expression of bored annoyance illustrated by the 
 quick, steady tapping of the toe of her polished boot. 
 She met his questioning look with a ready if artificial 
 and meaningless smile. 
 
 "Oh, you weren't far away, were you, Staff?" she 
 said lightly. "These gentlemen want to ask you some 
 questions about that wretched necklace. I wish to 
 goodness I 'd never bought the thing!" 
 
 Her expression had changed to petulance. Ceasing 
 to speak, she resumed the nervous drumming of her 
 foot upon the carpet.
 
 126 THE BANDBOX 
 
 Manvers took the initiative: "Mr. Staff, this is Mr. 
 Siddons of the customs service; this is Mr. Arnold of the 
 JJnited States Secret Service; and this, Mr. Cramp of 
 Pinkerton's. They came aboard at Quarantine." 
 
 Staff nodded to each man in turn, and reviewed 
 their faces, finding them one and all more or less com 
 monplace and uninteresting. 
 
 "How-d-'you-do?" he said civilly; and to Manvers: 
 "Well . . . ?" 
 
 "We were wondering if you 'd seen anything of Mr. 
 Iff this morning?" 
 
 "No nothing. He came to bed after I 'd gone to 
 sleep last night, and was up and out before I woke. 
 Why?" 
 
 "He " the purser began; but the man he had 
 called Mr. Arnold interrupted. 
 
 "He claimed to be a Secret Service man, did n't he?" 
 
 "He did," returned Staff. "Captain Cobb saw his 
 credentials, I believe." 
 
 "But that didn't satisfy him," Manvers put in 
 eagerly. "I managed to make him understand that 
 credentials could be forged, so he wirelessed for infor 
 mation. And," the purser added triumphantly after 
 a distinct dramatic pause, "he got it." 
 
 "You mean Iff is n't what he claimed ?" exclaimed 
 Staff.
 
 STOLE AWAY! 127 
 
 Arnold nodded brusquely. "There 's no such person 
 in the service," he affirmed. 
 
 "Then he is Ismay!" 
 
 The Pinkerton man answered him: "If he is and I 
 lay eyes on him, I can tell in two shakes." 
 
 "By George!" cried Staff in admiration "the 
 clever little scamp!" 
 
 "You may well say so," said Manvers bitterly. 
 "If you'd listened to me if the captain had 
 this would n't have happened." 
 
 "What the theft?" 
 
 "Yes, that primarily; but now, you know because 
 he was given so much rope he 's vanished." 
 
 "What!" 
 
 "Vanished disappeared gone!" said the purser, 
 waving his hands graphically. 
 
 "But he can't have left the ship!' 
 
 "Doesn't seem so, does it?" said the Pinkerton 
 man morosely. "All the same, we've made a pretty 
 thorough search, and he can't be found." 
 
 "You see," resumed Manvers, "when the captain 
 got word yesterday afternoon that Iff or Ismay was n't 
 what he pretended to be, he simply wirelessed back 
 for a detective, and didn't arrest Iff, because he 
 said he couldn't get away. I told him he was 
 wrong and he was!"
 
 VIII 
 
 THE WRONG BOX 
 
 WHEN the janitor and the taxicab operator 
 between them had worried all his luggage up 
 stairs, Staff paid and tipped them and thankfully saw 
 the hall-door close on their backs. He was tired, over 
 heated and glad to be alone. 
 
 Shaking off his coat, he made a round of his rooms, 
 opening windows. Those in the front of the apart 
 ment looked out from the second-story elevation upon 
 East Thirtieth Street, between Fourth and Lexing 
 ton Avenues. Those in the rear (he discovered to his 
 consummate disgust) commanded an excellent view of 
 a very deep hole in the ground swarming with Italian 
 labourers and dotted with steam drills, mounds of 
 broken rock and carters with their teams; also a 
 section of East Twenty-ninth Street was visible 
 through the space that had been occupied no longer 
 ago than last spring by a dignified row of brownstone 
 houses with well-tended backyards. 
 
 Staff cursed soulfully the noise and dirt caused by 
 the work of excavation, shut the back windows to 
 
 128
 
 THE WRONG BOX 129 
 
 keep out the dust and returned to the front room 
 his study, library and reception-room in one. 
 With the addition of the bath off the bedroom 
 in the rear, and a large hall-closet opening from 
 the study, these two rooms comprised his home. The 
 hall was public, giving access to two upper floors 
 which, like that beneath him, were given up to bachelor 
 apartments. The house was in reality an old-fashioned 
 residence, remodelled and let out by the floor to young 
 men mainly of Staff's ilk: there was an artist on the 
 upper story, a writer of ephemeral fiction on the third, 
 an architect on the first. The janitor infested the base 
 ment, chiefly when bored by the monotony of holding 
 up an imitation mahogany bar over on Third Avenue. 
 His wife cooked abominably and served the results 
 under the name of breakfast to the tenants, who foraged 
 where they would for their other meals. Otherwise she 
 was chiefly distinguished by a mad, exasperating pas 
 sion for keeping the rooms immaculately clean and in 
 order. Staff noted approvingly that, although Mrs. 
 Shultz had not been warned of his return, there was no 
 trace of dust in the rooms, not a single stick of furniture 
 nor a book out of place. 
 
 There was n't really any reason why he should stick 
 in such un-modern and inconveniently situated lodg 
 ings that is, aside from his ingrained inclination to
 
 130 THE BANDBOX 
 
 make as little trouble for himself as possible. To hunt a 
 new place to live would be quite as much of a nuisance 
 as to moye to it, when found. And he was comfortable 
 enough where he was. He had taken the place some 
 eight years previously, at a time when it was rather 
 beyond his means; today when he could well afford 
 to live where he would in New York, he found that his 
 rooms had become a habit with him. He had no inten 
 tion whatever of leaving them until the house should be 
 dismantled to make way for some more modern struc 
 ture like that going up in the rear or until he 
 married. 
 
 He poked round, renewing acquaintance with old, 
 familiar things, unearthed an ancient pipe which had 
 lain in one of his desk-drawers like a buried bone, 
 fondled it lovingly, filled and lighted it, and felt all 
 the tune more and more content and at ease. 
 
 Then Shultz knocked at the door and delivered to him 
 a bundle of afternoon papers for which he had filed a 
 requisition immediately on his arrival. 
 
 He sat down, enjoying his pipe to the utmost and 
 wondering how under the sun he had managed to worry 
 along without it all the time he had been away, and 
 began to read what the reporters had to say about the 
 arrival of the Autocratic and the case of the Cadogan 
 collar.
 
 THE WRONG BOX 131 
 
 In the main they afforded him little but amusement; 
 the stories were mostly a hash of misinformation 
 strongly flavoured with haphazard guesswork. The 
 salient facts of the almost simultaneous disappearance 
 of the necklace and Mr. Iff stood up out of the welter 
 of surmise like mountain peaks above cloud-rack. 
 There were no other facts. And both these remained 
 inexplicable. No trace had been found of Mr. Iff; 
 his luggage remained upon the pier, unclaimed. With 
 him the Cadogan collar had apparently vanished as 
 mysteriously: thus the consensus. The representative 
 of the Secret Service bent on exposing an impostor, the 
 Pinkerton men employed by the steamship company, 
 and a gratuitous corps of city detectives were verbally 
 depicted as so many determined bloodhounds nosing 
 as many different scents otherwise known as clues. 
 
 Jules Max, moreover, after a conference with his 
 star, had published an offer of a reward of $10,000 for 
 the return of the necklace or for information leading 
 to its recovery whether or not involving the appre 
 hension of the thief. 
 
 Several of the papers "ran" unusually long stories 
 descriptive of the scenes on the pier. Staff chuckled 
 over them. The necklace had, in fact, made no end 
 of trouble for several hundred putatively innocent and 
 guileless passengers. The customs examination had
 
 132 THE BANDBOX 
 
 been thorough beyond parallel. Not even the steerage 
 and second-cabin passengers had escaped; everybody's 
 belongings had been combed fine by a corps of inspectors 
 whose dutiful curiosity had been abnormally stimulated 
 by the prospect of a ten-thousand-dollar reward.- Not 
 a few passengers had been obliged to submit to the 
 indignity of personal search Staff and Alison in 
 their number; the latter for no reason that Staff could 
 imagine; the former presumably because he had roomed 
 with the elusive Mr. Iff on the way over. He had also 
 been mulcted a neat little sum as duty on that miserable 
 hat, which he had been obliged to declare as a present 
 for a friend. 
 
 In memory of this he now rose, marched over 
 to the bandbox, innocently reposing in the middle 
 of the floor, and dispassionately lifted it the kick 
 he had been promising it ever since the first day of 
 their acquaintance. 
 
 It sailed up prettily, banged the wall with a hollow 
 noise and dropped to the floor with a grievous dent in 
 one side. 
 
 There out of his way Staff left it. Immeas 
 urably mollified, he proceeded to unpack and put his 
 house in order. By the time this was done to his 
 satisfaction and Shultz had dragged the empty trunks 
 into the hall, to be carried downstairs and stored in
 
 THE WRONG BOX 133 
 
 the cellar, it was evening and time to dress. So Staff 
 made himself clean with much water and beautiful with 
 cold steel and resplendent with evening clothes, and 
 tucked the manuscript of A Single Woman into the 
 pocket of a light topcoat and sallied forth to dine with 
 Jules Max and Alison Landis. 
 
 It was late, something after midnight, when he 
 returned, driving up to his house in a taxicab and a 
 decidedly disgruntled frame of mind. Alison had been 
 especially trying with regard to the play; and Max, 
 while privately letting the author see that he thought 
 him in the right in refusing to make changes until 
 rehearsals had demonstrated their advisability, and 
 in spite of his voluble appreciation of the play's 
 merits, had given Alison the support she demanded. 
 The inference was plain: the star was to be humoured 
 even at the cost of a crippled play. Between love 
 for the woman and respect for his work, desire to 
 please her and determination not to misrepresent him 
 self to the public, Staff, torn this way and that, felt 
 that he had at length learned the true meaning of 
 "the horns of dilemma." But this reflection availed 
 nothing to soothe his temper. 
 
 When he got out of the cab a short but sharp argu 
 ment ensued with the operator; it seemed that "the 
 clock" was out of order and not registering had
 
 134 THE BANDBOX 
 
 struck in conformance to the time-honoured custom of 
 the midnight taximeter union. But the driver's habitual 
 demand for two and one-half times the proper fare by 
 distance proved in this instance quite fruitless. Staff 
 calmly counted out the right amount, put it in the 
 man's hand, listened with critical appreciation to the 
 resultant flow of profanity until it verged upon person 
 ality, then deliberately dragged the man by the scruff 
 of his neck, choking and cursing, from his seat to the 
 sidewalk. 
 
 "Now, listen," said he hi a level tone: "you've 
 got either to put up or shut up. I Ve been sort of 
 aching to beat the tar out of one of you highwaymen 
 for some tune, and I feel just ripe for it tonight. You 
 either put up your fists or crawl another yap out 
 of you and I won't wait for you to do either." 
 
 The man bristled and then, analysing the gleam in 
 Staff's eyes, crawled: that is to say, he climbed 
 back into his seat and swung the machine to the 
 far side of the street before again resorting to 
 vituperation. 
 
 To this Staff paid no more attention. He was open 
 ing the front door. The passage had comforted him 
 considerably, but he was presently to regret it. But 
 for that delay he might have been spared a deal of 
 trouble.
 
 THE WRONG BOX 135 
 
 As he let himself into the house, a man in evening 
 dress came running down the stairs, brushed past 
 rudely and without apology, and slammed the door 
 behind him. Staff wondered and frowned slightly. 
 Presumably the fellow had been calling on one of the 
 tenants of the upper floors. There had been something 
 familiar in his manner something reminiscent, but 
 too indefinite for recognition. And certainly he 'd been 
 in the devil of a hurry! 
 
 In the meantime he had mounted the first flight of 
 stairs and turned through the hall to his study door. 
 To his surprise it was n't locked. He seemed dis 
 tinctly to remember locking it when he had left for 
 dinner. Still, memory does play us odd tricks. 
 
 He pushed the door open and entered the room. At 
 the same moment he heard the trilling of the telephone 
 bell. The instrument stood upon his desk between the 
 two front windows. Without pausing to switch on one 
 of the lights in the combination gas- and electro 
 lier in the centre of the room, he groped his way 
 through blinding darkness to the desk and, finding the 
 telephone instrument with the certainty of old 
 acquaintance, lifted the receiver to his ear. 
 
 "Hello? "he called. 
 
 A thin and business-like voice detailed his number. 
 
 "Yes," he said. "What is it?"
 
 136 THE BANDBOX 
 
 "Just a moment," came out of the night. "HoLi 
 the wire." 
 
 There was a pause in which it occurred to him that 
 a little light would be a grateful thing. He groped for 
 his desklamp, found it and scorched his fingers slightly 
 on its metal reflector. He had switched on the light 
 and said "Damn!" mechanically before he reflected 
 that the said metal reflector had no right to be hot 
 unless the light had been burning very recently. 
 
 As this thought penetrated his consciousness, the 
 telephone waxed eloquent. 
 
 " Hello ! " called a voice. " Is that you, Staff? " 
 
 " Why ! " he exclaimed in surprise " yes, Alison ! " 
 
 "Are you alone?" 
 
 "Yes," he said. "What is it?" 
 
 "I just wanted to know," returned the p i at 
 the other end of the wire. " I 'm coming , ^e 
 you." 
 
 "What now?" 
 
 "Of course, silly." 
 
 "But why this time of night it does n' 
 
 "Oh, I Ve got something most importan $ lo 
 
 you very important indeed. It won't ke 3 be 
 
 there in five minutes. Listen for the taxi - 
 like a dear boy? and come down and open tAe door 
 for me. Good-bye."
 
 THE WRONG BOX 137 
 
 "Good-bye," he returned automatically, and hung up 
 the receiver. 
 
 What on earth could she be wanting, that could have 
 turned up so unexpectedly in the half-hour since he had 
 left her and that would n't keep till morning? 
 
 Abruptly he became aware that the air in the room 
 was stiflingly close. And he had left the windows open 
 when he went out; he knew that he was n't mistaken 
 about that; and now they were closed, the shades 
 drawn tight! 
 
 This considered in connection with the open door 
 that had been locked, and the heated desk-lamp 
 that should have been cold, he could n't avoid the 
 conclusion that somebody had been in his rooms, 
 an unlawful trespasser, just a few minutes before he 
 came in possibly the very man who had rushed past 
 him in such violent haste at the front door. 
 
 He jumped up and turned on all the lights in the room. 
 A first, hasty glance about showed him nothing as it 
 had not been when he had left six hours or so ago 
 aside from the front windows, of course. Mechanically, 
 thinking hard and fast, he went to these latter and 
 opened them wide. 
 
 The possibility that the intruder might still be in 
 the rooms in his bedroom, for instance popped 
 into his head, and he went hurriedly to investigate.
 
 138 THE BANDBOX 
 
 But there wasn't anybody in the back-room or the 
 bath-room. 
 
 Perplexed, he examined the rear windows. They 
 were closed and locked, as when he had left. Opening 
 them, he peered out and down the fire-escape; he had 
 always had a notion that anybody foolish enough to 
 want to burgle his rooms would find it easy to effect an 
 entrance via the fire-escape, whose bottom rung was 
 only eight feet or so above the level of the backyard. 
 And now, since the Twenty-ninth Street houses had 
 been torn down, lending access easy via the excavation, 
 such an attempt would be doubly easy. 
 
 But he had every evidence that his rooms hadn't 
 been broken into by any such route; although of 
 course ! an astute burglar might have thought to 
 cover up his tracks by relocking the windows after 
 he had entered. On the other hand, the really wise 
 marauder would have almost certainly left them open 
 to provide a way of escape in emergency. 
 
 BafHed and wondering, Staff returned to his study. 
 An examination of the hall-closet yielded nothing illu 
 minating. Everything was undisturbed, and there 
 was n't room enough therein for anybody to hide. 
 
 lie shut the closet door and reviewed the study more 
 carefully. Not a thing out of place; even that wretched 
 bandbox lay where he had kicked it, with a helpless,
 
 THE WRONG BOX 139 
 
 abused look, the dented side turned pitifully to the 
 light much like a street beggar exposing a maimed 
 limb to excite public sympathy. 
 
 He struggled to think: what did he possess worth 
 stealing? Nothing of any great value: a modest col 
 lection of masculine jewelry stick-pins and the like; 
 a quantity of clothing; a few fairly good pictures; a 
 few rare books. But the merest cursory examination 
 showed that these were intact, one and all. What cash 
 he had was all upon his person. His desk, where the 
 lamp had been lighted, held nothing valuable to any 
 body other than himself: manuscripts, account books, 
 some personal papers strictly non-negotiable. And 
 these too proved undisturbed. 
 
 Swinging round from the desk, he rested his elbows 
 on his knees, clasped his hands, and lapsed into the 
 most profound of meditations; through which he 
 arrived at the most amazing discovery of all. 
 
 Very gradually his eyes, at first seeing not what they 
 saw, focussed upon an object on the floor. Quite ex 
 cusably he was reluctant to believe their evidence. 
 Eventually, however, he bent forward and picked up 
 the thing. 
 
 It lay in his hand, eloquently absurd in his study! 
 a bow of violet-coloured velvet ribbon, cunningly 
 knotted, complete in itself. From its reverse, a few
 
 140 THE BANDBOX 
 
 broken threads of silk hung, suggesting that it had 
 been originally sewn upon a gown, or some other 
 article of dress, from which it had been violently torn 
 away. 
 
 The thing was so impossible preposterous ! that 
 he sat as if stunned, eyes a-stare, jaw dropping, wits 
 bemused; until abruptly roused by the sharp barking 
 of a taxicab horn as it swung round the corner of 
 Fourth Avenue and the subsequent grumble of its 
 motor in the street below. 
 
 Thrusting the velvet knot into his pocket he ran 
 down and opened the front door just as Alison gained 
 the top of the brownstone steps. 
 
 He noticed that her taxicab was waiting. 
 
 Still in her shimmering, silken, summery dinner-gown 
 of the earlier evening, a light chiffon wrap draped round 
 her shoulders, she entered the vestibule, paused and 
 stood smiling mischievously into his grave, enquiring 
 eyes. 
 
 "Surprised you eh, Staff?" she laughed. 
 
 "Rather," said he, bending over her hand and won 
 dering at her high spirit of gaiety so sharply in con 
 trast with her determined and domineering humour of 
 a few hours since. "Why?" he asked, shutting the 
 outside door. 
 
 "Just wanted to see you alone for a few moments;
 
 THE WRONG BOX 141 
 
 I Ve something to say to you something very im 
 portant and surprising. . . . But not down here." 
 
 "I beg your pardon," he said contritely. He mo 
 tioned toward the stairs: "There's no elevator, but 
 it 's only one flight up . . ." 
 
 "No elevator! Heavens!" she cried in mock horror. 
 "And this is how the other half lives!" 
 
 She caught up her skirts and ran up the stairs with 
 footsteps so light that he could hear nothing but the 
 soft, continuous murmuring of her silken gown. 
 
 "Genius," he said, ironic, as he followed her 
 "Genius frequently needs a lift but is more often 
 to be found in an apartment without one. Permit 
 me" he flung wide the door to his study "to 
 introduce you to the garret." 
 
 "So this is where you starve and write!" 
 
 Alison paused near the centre of the room, shrugging 
 her wrap from her shoulders and dropping it carelessly 
 on the table. He saw her shoot swift glances round her 
 with bright, prying eyes. 
 
 " I 'm afraid I 'm not enough of a genius to starve," 
 he said; "but anyway, here 's where I write." 
 
 "How interesting!" she drawled in a tone that con 
 veyed to him the impression she found it anything but 
 that. And then, a trace sharply : " Please shut the door." 
 
 He lifted his brows hi surprise, said "Oh?" and turn-
 
 142 THE BANDBOX 
 
 ing back did as bid. At the same time Alison disposed 
 herself negligently in a capacious wing-chair. 
 
 "Yes," she took up his monosyllable; "it 's quite as 
 important as all that. I don't wish to be overheard. 
 Besides," she added with nonchalant irrelevance, "I 
 do want a cigarette." 
 
 Silently Staff found his metal cigarette-safe and 
 offered it, put a match to the paper roll held so 
 daintily between his lady's lips, and then helped 
 himself. 
 
 Through a thin veil of smoke she looked up into hfo 
 serious face and smiled bewitchingly. 
 
 "Are you thrilled, my dear?" she asked lightly. 
 
 "Thrilled?" he questioned. "How?" 
 
 She lifted her white, gleaming shoulders with an air 
 of half-tolerant impatience. "To have a beautiful 
 woman alone with you in your rooms, at this hour o' 
 night . . . Don't you find it romantic, dear boy? Or 
 are n't you in a romantic mood tonight? Or perhaps 
 I 'm not sufficiently beautiful . . . ? " She ended with 
 a charming little petulant moue. 
 
 "You know perfectly well you 're one of the most 
 beautiful women in the world," he began gravely; but 
 she caught him up. 
 
 "One of ?" 
 
 "To me, of course you know the rest: the usual
 
 THE WRONG BOX 143 
 
 thing," he said. "But you did n't come here to discuss 
 your charms now did you?" 
 
 She shook her head slightly, smiling with light- 
 hearted malice. " By no means. But, at the same time, 
 if I 've a whim to be complimented, I do think you 
 might be gallant enough to humour me." 
 
 But he was in anything but a gallant temper. Mys 
 tery hedged his thoughts about and possessed them; he 
 couldn't rid his imagination of the inexplicable cir 
 cumstances of the man who had broken into his rooms 
 to steal nothing, and the knot of velvet ribbon that had 
 dropped from nowhere to his study floor. And when he 
 forced his thoughts back to Alison, it was only to feel 
 again the smart of some of the stinging things she had 
 chosen to say to him that night during their discussion 
 of his play, and to be conscious of a certain amount of 
 irritation because of the effrontery of her present pose, 
 assuming as it did that he would eventually bend to 
 her will, endure all manner of insolence and indignity, 
 because he hoped she would marry him. 
 
 Something of what was passing through his mind as 
 he stood mute before her, she read in his look or 
 intuitively divined. 
 
 "Heavens!" she cried, "you're as temperamental 
 as a leading-man. Can't you accept a word or two of 
 criticism of your precious play without sulking like
 
 144 THE BANDBOX 
 
 like Max does when I make up my mind to take a week's 
 rest in the middle of the season?" 
 
 "Criticise as much as you like," he said; "and I '11 
 listen and take it to heart. But I don't mind telling 
 you I 'm not going to twist this play out of all 
 dramatic semblance at your dictation or Max's 
 either." 
 
 For a moment their glances crossed like swords; he 
 was conscious from the flicker in her eyes that her tem 
 per was straining at the leash; and his jaw assumed a 
 certain look of grim solidity. But the outbreak he 
 expected did not come; Alison was an artiste too con 
 summate not to be able to control and mask her emo 
 tions even as she did now with a quick curtaining 
 of her eyes behind long lashes. 
 
 "Don't let 's talk about that now," she said in a 
 soft, placating voice. "That 's a matter for hours of 
 business. We 're getting farther and farther away from 
 my errand." 
 
 "By all means," he returned pleasantly, "let us go 
 to that at once." 
 
 "You can't guess?" She unmasked again the bat 
 tery of her laughing eyes. He shook his head. " I '11 
 give you three guesses." 
 
 He found the courage to say: "You did n't come to 
 confess that I 'm in the right about the play ? "
 
 THE WRONG BOX 145 
 
 She pouted prettily. "Can't you let that be? No, 
 of course not." 
 
 "Nor to bicker about it?" 
 
 She laughed a denial. 
 
 "Nor yet to conduct a guessing contest?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 "Then I 've exhausted my allowance. . . . Well?" 
 
 "I came," she drawled, "for my hat." 
 
 "Your hat?" His eyes opened wide. 
 
 She nodded. "My pretty hat. You remember 
 you promised to give it to me if nobody else claimed 
 it." 
 
 "Yes, but ..." 
 
 "And nobody has claimed it?" 
 
 "No, but ..." 
 
 "Then I want my hat." 
 
 "But hold on give somebody a chance " 
 
 "Stupid?" she laughed. "Isn't it enough that I 
 claim it? Am I nobody?" 
 
 "Wait half a minute. You Ve got me going." He 
 paused, frowning thoughtfully, recollecting his wits; 
 then by degrees the light began to dawn upon him, 
 " Do you mean you really did send me that confounded 
 bandbox?" 
 
 Coolly she inclined her head: "I did just that, my 
 dear."
 
 146 THE BANDBOX 
 
 "But when I asked you the same question on the 
 Autocratic " 
 
 "Quite so: I denied it." 
 
 "And you were hi London that Friday, after all?" 
 
 "I was. Had to be, had n't I, hi order to buy the 
 hat and have it sent you?" 
 
 "But how did you know I was sailing Saturday?" 
 
 "I happened to go to the steamship office just after 
 you had booked saw a clerk adding your name to 
 the passenger-list on the bulletin-board. That gave me 
 the inspiration. I had already bought the hat, but I 
 drove back to the shop and instructed them to send it 
 to you." 
 
 "But, Alison! to what end?" 
 
 "Well," she said languidly, smiling with amusement 
 at his bewilderment, "I thought it might be fun to 
 hoodwink you." 
 
 "But I fail to see the joke." 
 
 "And will, until I tell you All." 
 
 Her tone supplied the capital letter. 
 
 He shrugged helplessly. "Proceed ..." 
 
 "Well," she began with sublime insouciance, "you 
 see, I 'd been figuring all the while on getting the 
 necklace home duty-free. And I finally hit upon what 
 seemed a rather neat little plot. The hat was part of it; 
 I bought it for the express purpose of smuggling the
 
 THE WRONG BOX 147 
 
 necklace in, concealed in its lining. Up to that point 
 you were n't involved. Then by happy accident I saw 
 your name on the list. Instantly it flashed upon me, 
 how I could make you useful. It was just possible, 
 you see, that those hateful customs men might be 
 shrewd enough to search the hat, too. How much 
 better, then, to make you bring in the hat, all unsus 
 pecting! They 'd never think of searching it in your 
 hands! You see?" 
 
 His face had been hardening during this amazing 
 speech. When she stopped he shot in a crisp 
 question: 
 
 "The necklace wasn't in the hat when delivered 
 to me? You did n't trust it to the shop people over 
 night?" 
 
 "Of course not. I merely sent you the hat; then 
 as I knew you would you mentioned it to me aboard 
 ship. I got you to bring it to my room, and then sent 
 you out you remember? While you waited I sewed 
 the necklace in the lining; it took only an instant. 
 Then Jane carried the hat back to your steward." 
 
 "So," he commented stupidly, "it wasn't stolen!" 
 
 "Naturally not." 
 
 "But you threw suspicion on Iff " 
 
 " I daresay he was guilty enough in intent, if not in 
 deed. There 's not the slightest doubt in my mind
 
 148 THE BANDBOX 
 
 that he 's that man Ismay, really, and that he shipped 
 with us for the especial purpose of stealing the neck 
 lace if he got half a chance." 
 
 "You may be right; I don't know and neither do 
 you. But do you realise that you came near causing 
 an innocent man to be jailed for the theft?" 
 
 "But I did n't. He got away." 
 
 "But not Iff alone there's myself. Have you 
 paused to consider what would have happened to me 
 if the inspector had happened to find that necklace in 
 the hat? Heavens knows how he missed it! He was 
 persistent enough ! . . . But if he had found it, I 'd 
 have been jailed for theft." 
 
 "Oh, no," she said sweetly; "I 'd never have let it 
 go that far." 
 
 "Not even if to confess would mean that you 'd be 
 sent to jail for smuggling? " 
 
 "They 'd never do that to a woman. ..." 
 
 But her eyes shifted from his uneasily, and he saw 
 her colour change a trifle. 
 
 "You know better than that. You read the papers 
 keep informed. You know what happened to the 
 last woman who tried to smuggle. I forgot how long 
 they sent her up for five months, or something like 
 that." 
 
 She was silent, her gaze evasive.
 
 THE WRONG BOX 149 
 
 "You remember that, don't you?" 
 
 "Perhaps I do," she admitted unwillingly. 
 
 "And you don't pretend you 'd Ve faced such a 
 prospect in order to clear me?" 
 
 Again she had no answer for him. He turned up the 
 room to the windows and back again. 
 
 " I did n't think," he said slowly, stopping before her 
 " I could n't have thought you could be so heartless, 
 so self-centred ... ! " 
 
 She rose suddenly and put a pleading hand upon his 
 arm, standing very near him in all her loveliness. 
 
 "Say thoughtless, Staff," she said quietly; "I did n't 
 mean it." 
 
 "That 's hard to credit," he replied steadily, "when 
 I 'm haunted by the memory of the lies you told me 
 to save yourself a few dollars honestly due the country 
 that has made you a rich woman to gain for yourself 
 a few paltry columns of cheap, sensational newspaper 
 advertising. For that you lied to me and put me in 
 jeopardy of Sing-Sing . . . me, the man you pretend 
 to care for " 
 
 "Hold on, Staff!" the woman interrupted harshly. 
 
 He moved aw r ay. Her arm dropped back to her side. 
 She eyed him a moment with eyes hard and unfriendly. 
 
 "You Ve said about enough," she continued. 
 
 "You 're not prepared to deny that you had these
 
 150 THE BANDBOX 
 
 possibilities in mind when you lied to me and made me 
 your dupe and cat's-paw?" 
 
 "I 'm not prepared to argue the matter with you," 
 she flung back at him, "nor to hold myself answerable 
 to you for any thing I may choose to say or do." 
 
 He bowed ceremoniously. 
 
 "I think that 's all," he said pleasantly. 
 
 "It is," she agreed curtly; then in a lighter tone she 
 added: "There remains for me only to take my blue 
 dishes and go home." 
 
 As she spoke she moved over to the corner where the 
 bandbox lay ingloriously on its undamaged side. As 
 she bent over it, Staff abstractedly took and lighted 
 another cigarette. 
 
 " What made you undo it? " he heard the woman ask. 
 
 He swung round in surprise. "I? I have n't touched 
 the thing since it was brought in beyond kicking it 
 out of the way." 
 
 "The string's off it's been opened!" Alison's 
 voice was trembling with excitement. She straight 
 ened up, holding the box in both hands, and came 
 hastily over to the table beside which he was standing 
 "You see?" she said breathlessly, putting it down. 
 
 "The string was on it when I saw it last," he told her 
 blankly. . . . 
 
 Then the memory recurred of the man who had passed
 
 THE WRONG BOX 151 
 
 him at the door the man who, he suspected, had 
 forced an entrance to his rooms. . . . 
 
 Alison was plucking nervously at the cover without 
 lifting it. 
 
 "Why don't you look?" he demanded, irritated. 
 
 "I I 'm afraid," she said in a broken voice. 
 
 Nevertheless, she removed the cover. 
 
 For a solid, silent minute both stared, stupified. 
 The hat they knew so well the big black hat with 
 its willow plume and buckle of brilliants had van 
 ished. In its place they saw the tumbled wreckage of 
 what had once been another hat distinctly: wisps of 
 straw dyed purple, fragments of feathers, bits of violet- 
 coloured ribbon and silk which, mixed with wads and 
 shreds of white tissue-paper, filled the box to brimming. 
 
 Staff thrust a hand in his pocket and produced the 
 knot of violet ribbon. It matched exactly the torn 
 ribbon in the box. 
 
 "So that," he murmured "that's where this 
 came from!" 
 
 Alison paid no attention. Of a sudden she began 
 digging furiously in the debris in the box, throwing 
 out its contents by handfuls until she had uncovered 
 the bottom without finding any sign of what she had 
 thought to find. Then she paused, meeting his gaze 
 with one half-wrathful, half-hysterical.
 
 152 THE BANDBOX 
 
 "What does this mean?" she demanded, as if ready 
 to hold him to account. 
 
 "I think," he said slowly "I 'm strongly inclined 
 to believe it means that you 're an uncommonly lucky 
 woman." 
 
 "How do you make that out?" she demanded in 
 a breath. 
 
 "I '11 tell you," he said, formulating his theory 
 as he spoke: "When I came home tonight, a man 
 passed me at the door, fairly running out I fancy, 
 to escape recognition; there was something about 
 him that seemed familiar. Then I came up here, 
 found my door ajar, when I distinctly remembered 
 locking it, found my windows shut and the shades 
 drawn, when I distinctly remembered leaving them 
 up, and finally found this knot of ribbon on the floor. 
 I was trying to account for it when you drove up. 
 Now it seems plain enough that this fellow knew 
 or suspected you of hiding the necklace in the hat, 
 knew that I had it, and came here in my absence 
 to steal it. He found instead this hat, and knowing 
 no better tore it to pieces trying to find what he 
 was after." 
 
 "But where where 's my hat?" 
 
 " I '11 tell you." Staff crossed the room and picked 
 up the string and label which had been on the box.
 
 THE WRONG BOX 153 
 
 Returning, he examined the tag and read aloud: 
 " Miss Eleanor Searle." He handed the tag to Alison. 
 " Find Miss Searle and you '11 find your hat. It 
 happens that she had a bandbox the exact dupli 
 cate of yours. I remember telling 'you about it, on 
 the steamer. As a matter of fact, she was in the 
 shop the afternoon you ordered your hat sent to 
 me, though she steadily refused to tell me who was 
 responsible for that imposition. Now, on the pier 
 today, our luggage was placed side by side, Hers 
 with mine both in the S section, you understand. 
 My examination was finished first and I was taken 
 back to my stateroom to be searched, as you know. 
 While I was gone, her examination was evidently 
 finished, for when I came back she had left the pier 
 with all her things. Quite plainly she must have 
 taken your box by mistake for her own; this, of 
 course, is her hat. As I said at first, find Miss Searle 
 and you '11 find your hat and necklace. Also, find 
 the person to whom you confided this gay young 
 swindling scheme of yours, and you '11 find the man 
 who was intimate enough with the affair to come 
 to my rooms in my absence and go direct to the 
 bandbox for the necklace." 
 
 "I but I told nobody," she stammered. 
 
 By the look in her eyes he disbelieved her.
 
 154 THE BANDBOX 
 
 "Not even Max, this morning, before he offered 
 that reward?" he asked shrewdly. 
 
 "Well yes; I told him.'* 
 
 "Max may have confided it to somebody else: 
 these things spread. Or possibly Jane may have 
 blabbed." 
 
 "Oh, no," she protested, but without conviction 
 in her accents; "neither of them would be so 
 foolish. ..." 
 
 " I 'd find out, if I were you." 
 
 "I shall. Meanwhile this Miss Searle 
 where 's she stopping?" 
 
 " I can't tell you some hotel. It '11 be easy 
 enough to find her in the morning." 
 
 "Will you try?" 
 
 "Assuredly the first thing." 
 
 " Then there appears to be nothing else to 
 do but go home," said the woman in a curiously 
 subdued manner. 
 
 Without replying verbally, Staff took up her 
 chiffon wrap and draped it over her shoulders. 
 
 "Thank you," said she, moving toward the door. 
 "Goodnight." 
 
 "Oh," he protested politely, "I must see you 
 out." 
 
 " It 's not necessary I can find my way."
 
 THE WRONG BOX 155 
 
 "But only I know how to fix the front door." 
 
 At the foot of the stairs, while he fumbled with 
 the latch, doubting him, she spoke with some 
 little hesitation. 
 
 "I presume," she said stifHy "I presume that 
 this ah ends it." 
 
 Staff opened the door an inch and held it so. 
 "If by ' it,' " he replied, "we mean the same thing ' 
 
 "We do." 
 
 "It does," he asseverated with his twisted smile. 
 
 She delayed an instant longer. "But all the 
 same," she said hastily, at length, "I want that 
 play." 
 
 "My play?" he enquired with significant emphasis. 
 
 "Yes, of course," she said sharply. 
 
 " Well, since I 'm under contract with Max, I 
 don't well see how I can take it away from you. 
 And besides, you 're the only woman living who 
 can play it properly." 
 
 "So good of you." Her hand lay slim and cool 
 in his for the fraction of an instant. " Good night," 
 she iterated, withdrawing it. 
 
 "Goodnight." 
 
 As he let her out, Staff, glancing down at the 
 waiting taxicab, was faintly surprised by the dis 
 covery that she had not come alone. A man stood
 
 156 THE BANDBOX 
 
 in waiting by the door a man in evening clothes: 
 not Max but a taller man, more slender, with a 
 better carriage. Turning to help Alison into the 
 cab, the street lights threw his face in sharp relief 
 against the blackness of the window; and Staff 
 knew him. 
 
 "Arkroyd!" he said beneath his breath. 
 
 He closed the door and set the latch, suffering 
 from a species of mild astonishment. His psycho 
 logical processes seemed to him rather unique; he 
 felt that he was hardly playing the game according 
 to Hoyle. A man who has just broken with the 
 woman with whom he has believed himself des 
 perately in love naturally counts on feeling a bit 
 down in the mouth. And seeing her drive off with 
 one whom he has every right to consider in the light 
 of a hated rival, he ought in common decency to 
 suffer poignant pangs of jealousy. But Staff did n't; 
 he could n't honestly make himself believe that 
 he was suffering in any way whatever. Indeed, the 
 most violent emotion to which he was sensible was 
 one of chagrin over his own infatuate myopia. 
 
 "Ass!" he called himself, slowly reascending the 
 stairs. " You might 've seen this coming long ago, 
 if you had n't wilfully chosen to be blind as a 
 bat!"
 
 THE WRONG BOX 157 
 
 Re-entering his study, he pulled up with a start 
 and a cry of sincere amazement. 
 
 "Well, I'll be damned!" 
 
 "Then why not lead a better life?" enquired 
 Mr. Iff. 
 
 He was standing in the doorway to the bedroom, 
 looking much like an exceptionally cruel caricature 
 of himself. As he spoke, he slouched wearily over 
 to the wing-chair Alison had recently occupied, and 
 dropped into it like a dead weight. 
 
 He wore no hat. His clothing was in a shocking 
 condition, damp, shapeless and shrunken to such 
 an extent as to disclose exhibits of bony wrists and 
 ankles almost immodestly generous. On his bird-like 
 cranium the pale, smooth scalp shone pink through 
 scanty, matted, damp blond locks. His face was 
 drawn, pinched and pale. As if new to the light his 
 baby-blue eyes blinked furiously. Round his thin lips 
 hovered his habitual smile, semi-sardonic, semi-sheepish. 
 
 "Do you mind telling me how in thunder you 
 got in here?" asked Staff courteously. 
 
 Iff waved a hand toward the bedroom. 
 
 "Fire-escape," he admitted wearily. "Happened 
 to see your light and thought I 'd call . Hope I 
 don't intrude. . . . Got anything to drink? I 'm 
 about all in."
 
 IX 
 
 A LIKELY STORY 
 
 IF I 'm any judge, that 's no exaggeration." 
 Thus Mr. Staff after a moment's pause which 
 he utilised to look Mr. Iff over with a critical eye. 
 
 Mr. Iff wagged his head. "Believe me," said he 
 simply. 
 
 Staff fetched a decanter of Scotch and a glass, 
 placing them on the table by Iff's elbow, then turned 
 away to get a siphon of charged water from the 
 icebox. But by the time he was back a staggering 
 amount of whiskey had disappeared from the de 
 canter, a moist but empty glass stood beside it, and 
 Mr. Iff was stroking smiling lips with his delicate, 
 claw-like fingers. He discontinued this occupation 
 long enough to wave the siphon away. 
 
 "Not for me," he said tersely. "I 've swallowed 
 enough water this night to last me for the rest of 
 my life half of the North River, more or less; 
 rather more, if you ask me." 
 
 158
 
 A LIKELY STORY 159 
 
 "What were you doing in the North River?" 
 
 " Swimming." 
 
 This answer was evidently so adequate in Mr. 
 Iff's understanding that he made no effort to elabor 
 ate upon it; so that presently, growing impatient, 
 Staff felt called upon to ask : 
 
 "Well? What were you swimming for?" 
 
 "Dear life," said Iff "life, liberty and the 
 pursuit of happiness: the incontestable birthright 
 of every freeborn American citizen if you must 
 know." 
 
 He relapsed into a reverie which seemed hugely 
 diverting from the reminiscent twinkle in the little 
 man's eyes. From this he emerged long enough to 
 remark: "That's prime whiskey, you know. . . . 
 Thanks very much, I will." And again fell silent, 
 stroking his lips. 
 
 "I don't want to seem to pry," said Staff at 
 length, with elaborate irony; "but in view of the 
 fact that you 've felt warranted in calling on me 
 via the fire-escape at one A.M., it doesn't seem 
 unreasonable of me to expect some sort of an 
 explanation." 
 
 "Oh, very well," returned Iff, with resignation. 
 "What would you like to know?" 
 
 " Why did you disappear this morning ? "
 
 160 THE BANDBOX 
 
 "Yesterday morning," Iff corrected dispassionately. 
 
 " yesterday morning, and how?" 
 
 "Because the time seemed ripe for me to do my 
 marvellous vanishing stunt. You see, I had a hunch 
 that the dear captain would turn things over in his 
 mind and finally determine not to accept my creden 
 tials at their face value. So I kind of stuck round 
 the wireless room with my ears intelligently pricked 
 forward. Sure enough, presently I heard the mes 
 sage go out, asking what about me and how so." 
 
 "You mean you read the operator's sending by 
 ear?" 
 
 "Sure; I 've got a telegrapher's ear as long as a 
 mule's. . . . Whereupon, knowing just about what 
 sort of an answer 'd come through, I made up my 
 mind to duck. And did." 
 
 "But how ?" 
 
 " That 'd be telling, and telling would get some 
 body aboard the Autocratic into terrible bad trouble 
 if it ever leaked out. I crawled in out of the weather 
 let it go at that. I wish," said Mr. Iff soulfully, 
 " those damn' Pinkerton men had let it go at that. 
 Once or twice I really thought they had me, or 
 would have me the next minute. And they would n't 
 give up. That 's why I had to take to the water, 
 after dark. My friend, who shall be nameless, lent
 
 A LIKELY STORY 161 
 
 me the loan of a rope and I shinned down and had 
 a nice little swim before I found a place to crawl 
 ashore. I assure you that the North River tastes 
 like hell. . . . O thank you; don't mind if I do." 
 
 "Then," said Staff, watching the little man help 
 himself on his own invitation " Then you are 
 Ismay!" 
 
 "Wrong again," said Iff drearily. "Honest, it's 
 a real shame, the way you can't seem to win any 
 bets at all." 
 
 "If you 're not Ismay, what made you hide?" 
 
 "Ah!" cried Iff admiringly "shrewd and per 
 tinent question! Now I '11 tell you, and you won't 
 believe me. Because now pay strict attention 
 because we 're near-twins." 
 
 "Who are twins?" demanded Staff staring. 
 
 " Him and me Ismay and I-double-F. First 
 cousins we are: his mother was my aunt. Worse 
 and more of it: our fathers were brothers. They 
 married the same day; Ismay and I were born in 
 the same month. We look just enough alike to be 
 mistaken for one another when we 're not together. 
 That 's been a great help to him; he 's made me 
 more trouble than I 've time to tell you. The last 
 time, I was pinched in his place and escaped a peni 
 tentiary sentence by the narrowest kind of a shave.
 
 162 THE BANDBOX 
 
 That got my mad up, and I served notice on him to 
 quit his foolishness or I 'd get after him. He re 
 plied by cooking up a fine little scheme that almost 
 laid me by the heels again. So I declared war and 
 Ve been camping on his trail ever since." 
 
 He paused and twiddled his thumbs, staring 
 reflectively at the ceiling. " I 'm sure I don't know 
 why I bore myself telling you all this. What 's the 
 use?" 
 
 " Never mind," said Staff in an encouraging man 
 ner; he was genuinely diverted. "At worst it's 
 a worthy and uplifting ah fiction. Go on. ... 
 Then you 're not a Secret Service man after all?" 
 
 "Nothing like that; I 'm doing this thing on my 
 own." 
 
 "How about that forged paper you showed the 
 captain?" 
 
 " Was n't forged genuine." 
 
 "Chapter Two," observed Staff, leaning back. 
 "It is a dark and stormy night;, we are all seated 
 about the camp-fire. The captain says: 'Antonio, 
 go to it.'" 
 
 "You are certainly one swell, appreciative audi 
 ence," commented Iff morosely. "Let's see if I 
 can't get a laugh with this one: One of the best 
 little things my dear little cousin does being to pass
 
 A LIKELY STORY 163 
 
 himself off as me, he got himself hired by the Treas 
 ury Department some years ago under the name of 
 William Howard Iff. That helped him a lot in his 
 particular line of business. But after a while he felt 
 that it cramped his style, so he just faded noise 
 lessly away retaining his credentials. Then 
 while I was in Paris last week he thought it would 
 be a grand joke to send me that document with his 
 compliments and the suggestion that it might be 
 some help to me in my campaign for his scalp. That 's 
 how I happened to have it." 
 
 "That's going some," Staff admitted admir 
 ingly. " Tell me another one. If you 're Iff and 
 not Ismay, what brought you over on the Auto 
 cratic?" 
 
 "Business of keeping an eye on my dearly beloved 
 cousin," said Iff promptly. 
 
 "You mean Ismay was on board, too?" 
 
 ' 'Member that undergrown waster with the red- 
 and-grey Vandyke and the horn-rimmed pince nez, 
 who was always mooning round with a book under 
 his arm?" 
 
 "Yes " 
 
 -L \*>iJ 
 
 "That was Cousin Arbuthnot disguised in his 
 own hair." 
 
 "If that was so, why didn't you denounce him
 
 164 THE BANDBOX 
 
 when you were accused of stealing the Cadogan 
 collar?" 
 
 " Because I knew he had n't got away with it." 
 
 "How did you know?" 
 
 " At least I was pretty positive about it. You '11 
 have to be patient and intelligent if you want 
 to understand and follow me back to Paris. The 
 three of us were there: Ismay, Miss Landis, myself. 
 Miss Landis was dickering with Cottier's for the 
 necklace, Ismay sticking round and not losing sight 
 of her much of the time, I was looking after Ismay. 
 Miss Landis buys the collar and a ticket for London; 
 Ismay buys a ticket for London; I trail. Then Miss 
 Landis makes another purchase a razor, in a shop 
 near the hotel where I happen to be loafing." 
 
 "A razor!" 
 
 " That 's the way it struck me, too. . . . Scene 
 Two: Cockspur Street, London. I 'm not sure what 
 boat Miss Landis means to take; I 've got a notion 
 it 's the Autocratic, but I 'm stalling till I know. 
 You drift into the office, I recognise you and recall 
 that you 're pretty thick with Miss Landis. Noth 
 ing more natural than that you and she should go 
 home by the same steamer. Similarly Ismay. 
 . . . Oh, yes, I understand it was pure coincidence; 
 but I took a chance and filled my hand. After we 'd
 
 A LIKELY STORY 165 
 
 booked and you 'd strutted off, I lingered long enough 
 to see Miss Landis drive up in a taxi with a whaling 
 big bandbox on top of the cab. She booked right 
 under my nose; I made a note of the bandbox. . . . 
 
 "Then you came aboard with the identical band 
 box and your funny story about how you happened 
 to have it. I smelt a rat: Miss Landis had n't sent 
 you that bandbox anonymously for no purpose. 
 Then one afternoon long toward six o'clock 
 I see Miss Landis's maid come out on deck and jerk 
 a little package overboard package just about 
 big enough to hold a razor. That night I 'm dragged 
 up on the carpet before the captain; I hear a pretty 
 fairy tale about the collar disappearing while Jane 
 was taking the bandbox back to your steward. The 
 handbag is on the table, in plain sight; it is n't 
 locked a blind man can see that; and the slit 
 in its side has been made by a razor. I add up the 
 bandbox and the razor and multiply the sum by 
 the fact that the average woman will smuggle as 
 quick as the average man will take a drink; and 
 I 'm Jeremiah Wise, Esquire." 
 
 "That's the best yet," Staff applauded. "But 
 see here why did n't you tell what you knew, 
 if you knew so much, when you were accused?" 
 
 Iff grimaced sourly. "Get ready to laugh. This
 
 166 THE BANDBOX 
 
 is one you won't fall for not in a thousand 
 years." 
 
 "Shoot," said Staff. 
 
 "I like you," said Iff simply. "You're foolish 
 in the head sometimes, but in the main you mean 
 well." 
 
 "That's nice of you but what has it to do 
 with my question?" 
 
 " Everything. You 're sweet on the girl, and I 
 don't wish to put a crimp in your young romance 
 by showing her up in her true colours. Furthermore, 
 you may be hep to her little scheme; I don't believe 
 it, but I know that, if you are, you won't let me 
 suffer for it. And finally, in the senility of my dotage 
 I conned myself into believing I could bluff it out; 
 at the worst, I could prove my innocence easily 
 enough. But what I did n't take into con 
 sideration was that I was laying myself open 
 to arrest for impersonating an agent of the 
 Government. When I woke up to that fact, the 
 only thing I could see to do was to duck in 
 out of the blizzard." 
 
 Staff said sententiously : " Hmmm. ..." 
 
 "Pretty thin what?" 
 
 "In spots," Staff agreed. "Still, I've got to 
 admit you 've managed to cover the canvas, even
 
 A LIKELY STORY 167 
 
 if your supply of paint was a bit stingy. One thing 
 still bothers me: how did you find out I knew about 
 the smuggling game? " 
 
 Iff nodded toward the bedroom. "I happened 
 in casually, as the saying runs just as Miss 
 Landis was telling on herself." 
 Staff frowned. 
 
 "How," he pursued presently, "can I feel sure 
 you 're not Ismay, and, having guessed as accur 
 ately as you did, that you did n't get at that band 
 box aboard the ship and take the necklace? " 
 "If I were, and had, would I be here?" 
 "But I can't understand why you are here!" 
 "It 's simple enough; I 've any number of reasons 
 for inviting myself to be your guest. For one, I 'm 
 wet and cold and look like a drowned rat; I can't 
 offer myself to a hotel looking like this can I? 
 Then I knew your address you '11 remember 
 telling me; and there's an adage that runs 'Any 
 port in a storm.' You 're going to be good enough 
 to get my money changed I 've nothing but Eng 
 lish paper and buy me a ready-made outfit in 
 the morning. Moreover, I 'm after Ismay, and 
 Ismay 's after the necklace; wherever it is, he will 
 be, soon or late. Naturally I presumed you still 
 had it and so did he until within the hour."
 
 168 THE BANDBOX 
 
 "You mean you think it was Ismay who broke 
 into these rooms tonight?" 
 
 "You saw him, didn't you? Man about my 
 size, was n't he? Evening clothes? That 's his 
 regulation uniform after dark. Beard and glasses 
 -what?" 
 
 "I believe you're right!" Staff rose excitedly. 
 " I did n't notice the glasses, but otherwise you 've 
 described him!" 
 
 "What did I tell you?" Iff helped himself to a 
 cigarette. " By now the dirty dog 's probably rais 
 ing heaven and hell to find out where Miss Searle 
 has hidden herself." 
 
 Staff began to pace nervously to and fro. "I 
 wish," he cried, "I knew where to find her!" 
 
 "Please," Iff begged earnestly, "don't let your 
 sense of the obligations of a host interfere with 
 your amusements; but if you '11 stop that Marathon 
 long enough to find me a blanket, I '11 shed these 
 rags and, by your good leave, curl up cunningly on 
 yon divan." 
 
 Staff paused, stared at the little man's bland and 
 guileless face, and shook his head helplessly, laughing. 
 
 " There 's no resisting your colossal gall," he said, 
 passing into the adjoining room to get bed-clothing 
 for his guest.
 
 A LIKELY STORY 169 
 
 "I admit it," said Iff placidly. 
 
 As Staff returned, the telephone bell rang. In 
 his surprise he paused with his arms full of sheets, 
 blankets and pillows, and stared incredulously at 
 his desk. 
 
 "What the deuce now?" he murmured. 
 
 "The quickest way to an answer to that," sug 
 gested Iff blandly, "is there." He indicated the 
 telephone with an ample gesture. "Help your 
 self." 
 
 Dropping his burden on the divan, Staff seated 
 himself at the desk and took up the receiver. 
 
 "Hello?" 
 
 He started violently, recognising the voice that 
 answered: "Mr. Staff?" 
 
 "Yes" 
 
 "This is Miss Searle." 
 
 "I know," he stammered; "I I knew your 
 voice." 
 
 "Really?" The query was perfunctory. "Mr. 
 Staff I could n't wait to tell you I 've just 
 got in from a theatre and supper party with some 
 friends." 
 
 " Yes," he said. " Where are you? " 
 
 Disregarding his question, the girl's voice con 
 tinued quickly: "I wanted to see my hat and opened
 
 170 THE BANDBOX 
 
 the bandbox. It was n't my hat it 's the one you 
 described the one that " 
 
 "I know," he interrupted; "I know all about that 
 now." 
 
 "Yes," she went on hurriedly, unheeding his words. 
 "I admired and examined it. It there 's something 
 else." 
 
 "I know," he said again; "the Cadogan collar." 
 
 "Oh!" There was an accent of surprise in her voice. 
 " Well, I Ve ordered a taxi, and I 'm going to bring it 
 to you right away. The thing 's too valuable " 
 
 "MissSearle " 
 
 " I 'm afraid to keep it here. I wanted to find out 
 if you were up that 's why I called." 
 
 "But, MissSearle " 
 
 "The taxi 's waiting now. I '11 be at your door in 
 fifteen minutes." 
 
 "But " 
 
 "Good-bye." 
 
 He heard the click as she hung up the receiver; and 
 nothing more. With an exclamation of annoyance he 
 swung round from the desk. 
 
 "Somebody coming?" enquired If! brightly. 
 
 Staff eyed him with overt distrust. "Yes," he said 
 reluctantly. 
 
 "Miss Searle bringing the evanescent collar, eh?"
 
 A LIKELY STORY 
 
 Staff nodded curtly. 
 
 "Plagued nuisance," commented Iff. "And me 
 wanting to go to sleep the worst I ever did." 
 
 "Don't let this keep you up," said Staff. 
 
 "But," Iff remonstrated, "you can't receire a lady 
 in here with me asleep on your divan." 
 
 "I don't intend to," Staff told him bluntly. "I 'm 
 going to meet the taxi at the door, get into it with her, 
 and take that infernal necklace directly to Miss Landis, 
 at her hotel." 
 
 "The more I see of you," said Mr. Iff, removing his 
 coat, "the more qualities I discover in you to excite 
 my admiration and liking. As in this instance when 
 with thoughtf ulness for my comfort" he tore from 
 his neck the water-soaked rag that had been his collar 
 you combine a prudent, not to say sagacious fore 
 sight, whereby you plan to place the Cadogan collar 
 far beyond my reach in event I should turn out to be 
 a gay deceiver." 
 
 By way of response, Staff found his hat and placed 
 it handily on the table, went to his desk and took from 
 one of its drawers a small revolver of efficient aspect, 
 unloaded and reloaded it to satisfy himself it was in 
 good working order and of a sudden looked round 
 suspiciously at Mr. Iff. 
 
 The latter, divested of his clothing and swathed in
 
 172 THE BANDBOX 
 
 a dressing-gown several sizes too large for him, fulfilled 
 his host's expectations by laughing openly at these 
 warlike preparations. 
 
 "I infer," he said, "that you wouldn't be sur 
 prised to meet up with Cousin Arbuthnot before 
 sunrise." 
 
 " I 'm taking no chances," Staff announced with 
 dignity. 
 
 "Well, if you should meet him, and if you mean 
 what you act like, and if that gun 's any good, and if 
 you know how to use it," yawned Mr. Iff, "you '11 do 
 me a favour and save me a heap of trouble into the 
 bargain. Good night." 
 
 He yawned again in a most business-like way, lay 
 down, pulled a blanket up round his ears, turned his 
 back to the light and was presently breathing with the 
 sweet and steady regularity of a perfectly sound and 
 sincere sleeper. 
 
 To make his rest the more comfortable, Staff turned 
 off all the lights save that on his desk. Then he filled 
 a pipe and sat down to envy the little man. The very 
 name of sleep was music in his hearing, just then. 
 
 The minutes lagged on leaden wings. There was a 
 great hush in the old house, and the street itself was 
 quiet. Once or twice Staff caught himself nodding; 
 then he would straighten up, steel his will and spur his
 
 A LIKELY STORY 173 
 
 senses to attention, waiting, listening, straining to 
 catch the sound of an approaching taxi. He seemed to 
 hear every imaginable night noise but that: the crash 
 and whine of trolleys, the footsteps of a scattered hand 
 ful of belated pedestrians, the infrequent windy roar 
 of trains on the Third Avenue L, empty clapping of 
 horses' hoofs on the asphalt . . . the yowl of a 
 sentimental tomcat ... a dull and distant grumble, 
 vague, formless, like a long, unending roll of thunder 
 down the horizon . . . the swish and sough of waters 
 breaking away from the flanks of the Autocratic . . . 
 and then, finally, like a tocsin, the sonorous, musical 
 chiming of the grandfather's clock in the corner. 
 
 He found himself on his feet, rubbing his eyes, with 
 a mouth dry as paper, a thumping heart, and a vague 
 sense of emptiness in his middle. 
 
 Had he napped slept? How long? . . . He 
 stared, bewildered, groping blindly after his wandering 
 wits. . 
 
 The windows, that had been black oblongs in the 
 illuminated walls, were filled with a cool and shapeless 
 tone of grey. He reeled (rather than walked) to one 
 of them and looked out. 
 
 The street below was vacant, desolate and uncannily 
 silent, showing a harsh, unlovely countenance like 
 the jaded mask of some sodden reveller, with bleary
 
 174 THE BANDBOX 
 
 street-lamps for eyes all mean and garish in the 
 chilly dusk that foreruns dawn. 
 
 Hastily Staff consulted his watch. 
 
 Four o'clock! 
 
 It occurred to him that the watch needed winding, 
 and he stood for several seconds twisting the stem- 
 crown between thumb and forefinger while stupidly 
 comprehending the fact that he must have been asleep 
 between two and three hours. 
 
 Abruptly, in a fit of witless agitation, he crossed to 
 the divan, caught the sleeper by the shoulder and shook 
 him till he wakened till he rolled over on his back, 
 grunted and opened one eye. 
 
 "Look here!" said Staff in a quaver "I 've been 
 asleep! " 
 
 "You've got nothing on me, then," retorted Iff with 
 pardonable asperity. "All the same congratulations. 
 Good night." 
 
 He attempted to turn over again, but was restrained 
 by Staff's imperative hand. 
 
 "It 's four o'clock, and after!" 
 
 "I admit it. You might be good enough to leave a 
 call for me for eleven." 
 
 "But damn it, man! that cab has n't come " 
 
 "I can't help that, can I?" 
 
 "I 'm afraid something has happened to that girl."
 
 A LIKELY STORY 175 
 
 "Well, it 's too late to prevent it now if so." 
 
 "Good God! Have you no heart, man?" Staff 
 began to stride distractedly up and down the room. 
 "What am I to do?" he groaned aloud. 
 
 "Take unkie's advice and go bye-bye," suggested 
 Iff. "Otherwise I 'd be obliged if you 'd rehearse that 
 turn in the other room. I 'm going to sleep if I have to 
 brain you to get quiet." 
 
 Staff stopped as if somebody had slapped him: the 
 telephone bell was ringing again. 
 
 He flung himself across the room, dropped heavily 
 into the chair and snatched up the receiver. 
 
 A man's voice stammered drowsily his number. 
 
 "Yes," he almost shouted. "Yes Mr. Staff at 
 the 'phone. Who wants me?" 
 
 "Hold the wire." 
 
 He heard a buzzing, a click; then silence; a pro 
 longed brrrrp and another click. 
 
 "Hello?" he called. "Hello?" 
 
 His heart jumped: the voice was Miss Searle's. 
 
 "Mr. Staff?" 
 
 It seemed to him that he could detect a tremor in her 
 accents, as if she were both weary and frightened. 
 
 "Yes, Miss Searle. What is it?" 
 
 "I wanted to reassure you I've had a terrible 
 experience, but I 'm all right now safe. I started "
 
 176 THE BANDBOX 
 
 Her voice ceased to vibrate over the wires as suddenly 
 as if those same wires had been cut. 
 
 "Yes?" he cried after an instant. "Yes, Miss 
 Searle? Hello, hello!" 
 
 There was no answer. Listening with every faculty 
 at high tension, he fancied that he detected a faint, 
 abrupt sound, like a muffled sob. On the heels of it 
 came a click and the connection was broken. 
 
 In his anxiety and consternation he swore violently. 
 
 "Well, what 's the trouble?" 
 
 Iff stood at his side, now wide-awake and quick with 
 interest. Hastily Staff explained what had happened. 
 
 "Yes," nodded the little man. "Yes, that J d be the 
 way of it. She had trouble, but managed to get to the 
 telephone; then somebody grabbed her " 
 
 Somebody ! Who ? " Staff demanded unreasonably. 
 
 " I don't really know honest Injun ! But there 's 
 a smell of garlic about it, just the same." 
 
 "Smell of garlic! Are you mad?" 
 
 "Tush!" said Mr. Iff contemptuously. "I referred 
 poetically to the fine Italian hand of Cousin Arbuthnot 
 Ismay. Now if I were you, I 'd agitate that hook until 
 Central answers, and then ask for the manager and see 
 if he can trace that call back to its source. It ought n't 
 to be difficult at this hour, when the telephone service 
 is at its slackest."
 
 lie iancied that be detected a faint, abrupt sound, like a 
 muffled sob 
 
 Pa<je 176
 
 X 
 
 DEAD O* NIGHT 
 
 (ENEATH a nature so superficially shallow that 
 it shone only with the reflected lustre of the more 
 brilliant personalities to which it was attracted, Mrs. 
 Ilkington had a heart sentiment and a capacity for 
 sympathetic affection. She had met Eleanor Searle in 
 Paris, and knew a little more than something of the 
 struggle the girl had been making to prepare herself 
 for the operatic stage. She managed to discover that 
 she had no close friends in New York, and shrewdly 
 surmised that she was n't any too well provided with 
 munitions of war in the shape of money for her 
 contemplated campaign against the army of professional 
 people, marshalled by indifferent-minded managers, 
 which stood between her and the place she coveted. 
 
 Considering all this, Mrs. Ilkington had suggested, 
 with an accent of insistence, that Eleanor should go 
 to the hotel which she intended to patronise wording 
 her suggestion so cunningly that it would be an easy 
 matter for her, when the time came, to demonstrate 
 
 177
 
 178 THE BANDBOX 
 
 that she had invited the girl to be her guest. And with 
 this she was thoughtful enough to select an unpreten 
 tious if thoroughly well-managed house on the West 
 Side, in the late Seventies, in order that Eleanor might 
 feel at ease and not worry about the size of the bill 
 which she was n't to be permitted to pay. 
 
 Accordingly the two ladies (with Mr. Bangs tagging) 
 went from the pier directly to the St. Simon, the 
 elder woman to stay until her town-house could be 
 opened and put in order, the girl while she looked round 
 for a spinster's studio or a small apartment within 
 her limited means. 
 
 Promptly on their arrival at the hotel, Mrs. Ilkington 
 began to run up a telephone bill, notifying friends of 
 her whereabouts; with the result (typical of the New 
 York idea) that within an hour she had engaged her 
 self for a dinner with theatre and supper to follow 
 and, of course, had managed to have Eleanor included 
 in the invitation. She was one of those women who 
 live on their nerves and apparently thrive on excite 
 ment, ignorant of the meaning of rest save in association 
 with those rest-cure sanatoriums to which they repair 
 for a fortnight semi-annually or oftener. 
 
 Against her protests, then, Eleanor was dragged out 
 in full dress when what she really wanted to do was to 
 eat a light and simple meal and go early to bed. In
 
 DEAD O' NIGHT 179 
 
 not unnatural consequence she found herself, when they 
 got home after one in the morning, in a state of nervous 
 disquiet caused by the strain of keeping herself keyed up 
 to the pitch of an animated party. 
 
 Insomnia stared her in the face with its blind, blank 
 eyes. In the privacy of her own room, she expressed a 
 free opinion of her countrymen, conceiving them all in 
 the guise of fevered, unquiet souls cast in the mould of 
 Mrs. Ilkington. 
 
 Diverting herself of her dinner-gown, she slipped 
 into a negligee and looked round for a book, meaning 
 to read herself sleepy. In the course of her search she 
 happened to recognise her bandbox and conceive a 
 desire to reassure herself as to the becomingness of its 
 contents. 
 
 The hat she found therein was becoming enough, 
 even if it was n't hers. The mistake was easily ap 
 parent and excusable, considering the confusion that 
 had obtained on the pier at the time of their departure. 
 
 She wondered when Staff would learn the secret of 
 his besetting mystery, and wondered too why Alison 
 had wished to make a mystery of it. The joke was hardly 
 apparent though one's sense of American humour 
 might well have become dulled in several years of 
 residence abroad. 
 
 Meanwhile, instinctively, Eleanor was trying on the
 
 180 THE BANDBOX 
 
 hat before the long mirror set in the door of the closet. 
 She admitted to herself that she looked astonishingly 
 well in it. She was a sane and sensible young woman, 
 who knew that she was exceedingly good looking and 
 was glad of it in the same wholesome way that she was 
 glad she had a good singing voice. Very probably the 
 hat was more of a piece with the somewhat flamboyant 
 if unimpeachable loveliness of Alison Landis; but it 
 would seem hard to find a hat better suited to set off 
 the handsome, tall and slightly pale girl that confronted 
 Eleanor in the mirror. 
 
 It seemed surprisingly heavy, even for a hat of its 
 tremendous size. She was of the opinion that it would 
 make her head ache to wear it for many hours at a 
 time. She was puzzled by its weight and speculated 
 vaguely about it until, lifting it carefully off, her fingers 
 encountered something hard, heavy and unyielding 
 between the lining and the crown. After that it did n't 
 take her long to discover that the lining had been ripped 
 open and resewn with every indication of careless haste. 
 Human curiosity did the rest. Within a very few min 
 utes the Cadogan collar lay in her hands and she was 
 marvelling over it and hazily surmising the truth: 
 Staff had been used as a blind agent to get the pearls 
 into the country duty-free. 
 
 Quick thoughts ran riot in Eleanor's mind. Alison
 
 DEAD O' NIGHT 181 
 
 Landis would certainly not delay longer than a few 
 hours before demanding her hat of Mr. Staff. The 
 substitution would then be discovered and she, Eleanor 
 Searle, would fall under suspicion at least, unless 
 she took immediate steps to restore the jewels. 
 
 She acted hastily, on impulse. One minute she was 
 at the telephone, ordering a taxicab, the next she was 
 hurriedly dressing herself in a tailor-made suit. The 
 hour was late, but not too late although (this gave 
 her pause) it might be too late before she could reach 
 Staff's rooms. She had much better telephone him she 
 was coming. Of course he would have a telephone 
 everybody has, in New York. 
 
 Consultation of the directory confirmed this assump 
 tion, giving her both his address and his telephone 
 number. But before she could call up, her cab was 
 announced. Nevertheless she delayed long enough to 
 warn him hastily of her coming. Then she snatched 
 up the necklace, dropped it into her handbag, replaced 
 the hat in its bandbox and ran for the elevator. 
 
 It was almost half-past one by the clock behind the 
 desk, when she passed through the office. She had really 
 not thought it so late. She was conscious of the surprised 
 looks of the clerks and pages. The porter at the door, 
 too, had a stare for her so long and frank as to approach 
 impertinence. None the less he was quick enough to
 
 182 THE BANDBOX 
 
 take her bandbox from the bellboy who carried it and 
 place it in the waiting taxi, and handed her in after it 
 with civil care. Having repeated to the operator the 
 address she gave him, the porter shut the door and went 
 back to his post as the vehicle darted out from the 
 curb. 
 
 Eleanor knew little of New York geography. Her 
 previous visits to the city had been very few and of 
 short duration. With the shopping district she wa* 
 tolerably familiar, and she knew something of the 
 district roundabout the old Fifth Avenue Hotel and 
 the vanished Everett House. But with these excep 
 tions she was entirely ignorant of the lay of the land : 
 just as she was too inexperienced to realise that it is n't 
 considered wholly well-advised for a young woman 
 alone to take, in the middle of the night, a taxicab 
 .whose chauffeur carries a companion on the front seat. 
 If she had stopped to consider this circumstance at all, 
 she would have felt comforted by the presence of the 
 superfluous man, on the general principle that two 
 protectors are better then one: but the plain truth 
 is that she did n't stop to consider it, her thoughts 
 being fully engaged with what seemed more important 
 matters. 
 
 The cab bounced across Amsterdam Avenue, slid 
 smoothly over to Columbus, ran for a block or so
 
 183 
 
 beneath the elevated structure and swung into Seventy- 
 seventh Street, through which it pelted eastward and 
 into Central Park. Then for some moments it turned 
 and twisted through the devious driveways, in a 
 fashion so erratic that the passenger lost all grasp of 
 her whereabouts, retaining no more than a confused 
 impression of serpentine, tree-lined ways, chequered 
 with lamplight and the soft, dense shadows of foliage, 
 and regularly spaced with staring electric arcs. 
 
 The night had fallen black beneath an overcast sky; 
 the air that fanned her face was warm and heavy 
 with humidity; what little breeze there was, aside 
 from that created by the motion of the cab, bore 
 on its leaden wings the scent of rain. 
 
 A vague uneasiness began to colour the girl's con 
 sciousness. She grew increasingly sensitive to the 
 ominous quiet of the hour and place: the stark, dark 
 stillness of the shrouded coppices and thickets, the 
 emptiness of the paths. Once only she caught sight 
 of a civilian, strolling in his shirt-sleeves, coat over his 
 arm, hat in hand; and once only she detected, at a 
 distance, the grey of a policeman's tunic, half blotted 
 out by the shadow in which its wearer lounged at ease. 
 
 And that was far behind when, abruptly, with a 
 grinding crash of brakes, the cab came from full 
 headlong tilt to a dead halt within twice its length.
 
 184 THE BANDBOX 
 
 She pitched forward from the seat with a cry of alarm, 
 only saving herself a serious bruising through the in 
 stinct that led her to thrust out her hands and catch 
 the frame of the forward windows. 
 
 Before she could recover, the chauffeur's companion 
 had jumped out and run ahead, pausing in front of the 
 hood to stoop and stare. In another moment he was 
 back with a report couched in a technical jargon un 
 intelligible to her understanding. She caught the 
 words "stripped the gears" and from them inferred 
 the irremediable. 
 
 "What is the matter?" she asked anxiously, bending 
 forward. 
 
 The chauffeur turned his head and replied in a surly 
 tone: "We've broken down, ma'm. You can't go 
 no farther in this cab. I '11 have to get another to tow 
 us back to the garage." 
 
 " Oh," she cried in dismay, " how unfortunate ! What 
 am I to do?" 
 
 " Guess you '11 have to get out V walk back to Cen 
 tral Park West," was the answer. "You c'n get a car 
 there to C'lumbus Circle. You '11 find a-plenty taxis 
 down there." 
 
 "You 're quite sure " she began to protest. 
 
 "Ah, they ain't no chanst of this car going another 
 foot under its own power not until it 's been a week
 
 DEAD O' NIGHT 185 
 
 'r two in hospital. The only thing for you to do 's 
 to hoof it, like I said." 
 
 "That's dead right," averred the other man. He 
 was standing beside the body of the cab and now un 
 latched the door and held it open for her. " You might 
 as well get down, if you 're in any great hurry, ma'm." 
 
 Eleanor rose, eyeing the man distrustfully. His 
 accent was n't that of the kind of man who is accus 
 tomed to saying "ma'm." His back was toward the 
 nearest lamp post, his face in shadow. She gained no 
 more than a dim impression of a short, slender figure 
 masked in a grey duster buttoned to the throat, and, 
 above it, a face rendered indefinite by a short, pointed 
 beard and a grey motor-cap pulled well down over 
 the eyes. . . . 
 
 But there was nothing to do but accept the situa 
 tion. An accident was an accident unpleasant but 
 irreparable. There was no alternative; she could do 
 nothing but adopt the chauffeur's suggestion. She 
 stepped out, turning back to get her bandbox. 
 
 "Beg pardon, ma'm. I '11 get that for you." 
 
 The man by the door interposed an arm between 
 Eleanor and the bandbox. 
 
 She said, "Oh no!" and attempted to push past his 
 arm. 
 
 Immediately he caught her by the shoulder and
 
 186 THE BANDBOX 
 
 thrust her away with staggering violence. She reeled 
 back half a dozen feet. Simultaneously she heard the 
 fellow say, sharply: /'All right go ahead!" and 
 saw him jump upon the step. On the instant, the cab 
 shot away through the shadows, the door swinging 
 wide while Eleanor's assailant scrambled into the body. 
 
 Before she could collect herself the car had dis 
 appeared round a curve in the roadway. 
 
 Her natural impulse was to scream, to start a hue- 
 and-cry: "Stop thief!" But the strong element of 
 common-sense in her make-up counselled her to hold 
 her tongue. In a trice she comprehended precisely 
 the meaning of the passage. Somebody else some 
 body aside from herself, Staff and Alison Landis 
 knew the secret of the bandbox and the smuggled 
 necklace, and with astonishing intuition had planned 
 this trap to gain possession of it. She was amazed 
 to contemplate the penetrating powers of inference 
 and deduction, the cunning and resource which had 
 not only in so short a time fathomed the mystery of 
 the vanished necklace, but had discovered the exchange 
 of bandboxes, had traced the right one to her hotel 
 and possession, had divined and taken advantage of 
 her impulse to return the property to its rightful owner 
 without an instant's loss of time. And with this 
 thought came another, more alarming: in a brace of
 
 DEAD O' NIGHT 187 
 
 minutes the thieves would discover that the necklace 
 had been abstracted from the hat and men of such 
 boldness would n't hesitate about turning back to 
 run her down and take their booty by force. 
 
 It was this consideration that bade her refrain from 
 crying out. Conceivably, if she did raise an alarm, 
 help might be longer in coming than the taxicab in 
 returning. They had the hat and bandbox, and were 
 welcome to them, for all of her, as long as she retained 
 the real valuables. Her only chance lay in instant and 
 secret flight, in hiding herself away in the gloomy fast 
 nesses of these unknown pleasure-grounds, so securely 
 that they might not find her. 
 
 She stood alone in the middle of a broad road. There 
 was nobody in sight, whichever way she looked. On 
 one hand a wide asphalt path ran parallel with the 
 drive; on the other lay a darksome hedge of trees and 
 shrubbery. She hesitated not two seconds over her 
 choice, and in a third was struggling and forcing a way 
 through the undergrowth and beneath the low and 
 spreading branches whose shadows cloaked her with 
 a friendly curtain of blackness. 
 
 Beyond she was not long in winning through 
 lay a broad meadow, glimmering faintly in the glow 
 of light reflected from the bosoms of low, slow-moving 
 clouds. A line of trees bordered it at a considerable
 
 188 THE BANDBOX 
 
 distance; beneath them were visible patches of asphalt 
 walk, shining coldly under electric arcs. 
 
 Having absolutely no notion whatever of where she 
 was in the Park, after some little hesitation she de 
 cided against attempting to cross the lawn and turned 
 instead, at random, to her right, stumbling away in 
 the kindly penumbra of trees. 
 
 She thanked her stars that she had chosen to wear 
 this dark, short-skirted suit that gave her so much free 
 dom of action and at the same time blended so well 
 with the shadows wherein she must skulk. . . . 
 
 Before many minutes she received confirmation of 
 her fears in the drone of a distant motor humming 
 in the stillness and gaining volume with every beat 
 of her heart. Presently it was strident and near at 
 hand; and then, standing like a frozen thing, not 
 daring to stir (indeed, half petrified with fear) she 
 saw the marauding taxicab wheel slowly past, the 
 chauffeur scrutinising one side of the way, the man 
 in the grey duster standing up in the body and hold 
 ing the door half open, while he raked with sweeping 
 glances the coppice wherein she stood hiding. 
 
 But it did not stop. Incredible though it seemed, 
 she was not detected. Obviously the men were at a 
 loss, unable to surmise which one she had chosen of 
 a dozen ways of escape. The taxicab drilled on at a
 
 189 
 
 snail's pace for some distance up the drive, then swung 
 round and came back at a good speed. As it passed 
 her for the second time she could hear one of its crew 
 swearing angrily. 
 
 Again the song of the motor died in the distance, 
 and again she found courage to move. But which way? 
 How soonest to win out of this strange, bewildering 
 maze of drives and paths, crossing and recrossing, 
 melting together and diverging without apparent 
 motive or design? 
 
 She advanced to the edge of the drive, paused, 
 listening with every faculty alert. There was no sound 
 but the muted soughing of the night wind in the trees 
 not a footfall, not the clap of a hoof or the echo 
 of a motor's whine. She moved on a yard or two, and 
 found herself suddenly in the harsh glare of an arc- 
 lamp. This decided her; she might as well go for 
 ward as retreat, now that she had shown herself. 
 She darted at a run across the road and gained the 
 paved path, paused an instant, heard nothing, and ran 
 on until forced to stop for breath. 
 
 And still no sign of pursuit! She began to feel a 
 little reassured, and after a brief rest went on aim 
 lessly, w r ith the single intention of sticking to one 
 walk as far as it might lead her, in the hope that it 
 might lead her to the outskirts of the Park. /
 
 190 THE BANDBOX 
 
 Vain hope! Within a short time she found herself 
 scrambling over bare rocks, with shrubbery on either 
 hand and a looming mass of masonry stencilled against 
 the sky ahead. This surely could not be the way. 
 She turned back, lost herself, half stumbled and half 
 fell down a sharp slope, plodded across another 
 lawn and found another path, which led her north 
 wards (though she had no means of knowing this). 
 In time it crossed one of the main drives, then recrossed. 
 She followed it with patient persistence, hoping, but 
 desperately weary. 
 
 Now and again she passed benches upon which 
 men sprawled in crude, uneasy attitudes, as a rule 
 snoring noisily. She dared not ask her way of these. 
 Once one roused to the sharp tapping of her heels, 
 stared insolently and, as she passed, spoke to her 
 in a thick, rough voice. She did not understand what 
 he said, but quickened her pace and held on bravely, 
 with her head high and her heart in her mouth. 
 Mercifully, she was not followed. 
 
 Again and not once but a number of times 
 the sound of a motor drove her from the path to the 
 safe obscurity of the trees and undergrowth. But 
 in every such instance her apprehensions were without 
 foundation; the machines were mostly touring-cars or 
 limousines beating homeward from some late festivity.
 
 DEAD O' NIGHT 191 
 
 And twice she thought to descry at a distance the 
 grey-coated figure of a policeman; but each time, 
 when she had gained the spot, the man had vanished 
 or else some phenomenon of light and shadow had 
 misled her. 
 
 Minutes, in themselves seemingly endless, ran into 
 hours while she wandered (so heavy with fatigue that 
 she found herself wondering how it was that she did n't 
 collapse from sheer exhaustion on any one of the in 
 terminable array of benches that she passed) dragging 
 her leaden feet and aching limbs and struggling to 
 hold up her hot and throbbing head. 
 
 It was long after three when finally she emerged 
 at One-hundred-and-tenth Street and Lenox Avenue. 
 And here fortune proved more kind: she blundered 
 blindly almost into the arms of a policeman, stum 
 bled through her brief story and dragged wearily on 
 his arm over to Central Park West. Here he put 
 her aboard a southbound Eighth Avenue surface-car, 
 instructing the conductor where she was to get off 
 and then presumably used the telephone on his beat 
 to such effect that she was met on alighting by an 
 other man in uniform who escorted her to the St. 
 Simon. She was too tired, too thoroughly worn 
 out, to ask him how it happened that he was waiting 
 for her, or even to do more than give him a bare word
 
 192 THE BANDBOX 
 
 of thanks. As for complaining of her adventure to 
 the night-clerk (who stared as she passed through to 
 the elevator) no imaginable consideration could have 
 induced her to stop for any such purpose. 
 
 But one thing was clear to her intelligence, to be 
 attended to before she toppled over on her bed: Staff 
 must be warned by telephone of the attempt to steal 
 the necklace and the reason why she had not been 
 able to reach his residence. And if this were to be 
 accomplished, she must do it before she dared sit 
 down. 
 
 In conformance with this fixed idea, she turned 
 directly to the telephone after closing the door of her 
 room pausing neither to strip off her gloves and 
 remove her hat nor even to relieve her aching wrist 
 of the handbag which, with its precious contents, 
 dangled on its silken thong. 
 
 She had to refresh her memory with a consulta 
 tion of the directory before she could ask for Staff's 
 number. 
 
 The switchboard operator was slow to answer; and 
 when he did, there followed one of those exasperating 
 delays, apparently so inexcusable. . . . 
 
 She experienced a sensation of faintness and dizzi 
 ness; her limbs were trembling; she felt as though 
 sleep were overcoming her as she stood; but a little
 
 Fascinated, dumb with terror, she watched 
 
 Page 193
 
 DEAD O' NIGHT 193 
 
 more and she had strained endurance to the breaking- 
 point. . . . 
 
 At length the connection was made. Staff's agitated 
 voice seemed drawn thin by an immense distance. 
 By a supreme effort she managed to spur her flagging 
 faculties and began to falter her incredible story, but 
 had barely swung into the second sentence when her 
 voice died in her throat and her tongue clave to the 
 roof of her mouth. 
 
 The telephone instrument was fixed to the wall near 
 the clothes-closet, the door of which framed a long 
 mirror. This door, standing slightly ajar, reflected 
 to her vision the hall door. 
 
 She had detected a movement in the mirror. The 
 hall door was opening slowly, gently, noiselessly, 
 inch by inch. Fascinated, dumb with terror, she 
 watched. She saw the hand that held the knob a 
 small hand, thin and fragile; then the wrist, then part 
 of the arm. ... A head appeared in the opening, 
 curiously suggesting the head of a bird, thinly thatched 
 with hair of a faded yellow; out of its face, small 
 eyes watched her, steadfastly inquisitive. 
 
 Almost mechanically she replaced the receiver on the 
 hook and turned away from the wall, stretching forth 
 her hands in a gesture of pitiful supplication. . . .
 
 XI 
 
 THE COLD GREY DAWN 
 
 "TT7ELL?" snapped Iff irritably. "What 're you 
 
 W staring at?" 
 
 " You," Staff replied calmly. " I was thinking " 
 
 "About me? What?" 
 
 "Merely that you are apparently as much cut up 
 as if the necklace were yours as if you were in danger 
 of being robbed, instead of Miss Landis by way of 
 Miss Searle." 
 
 "And I am!" asserted Iff vigorously. "I am, damn 
 it! I 'm in no danger of losing any necklace; but if 
 he gets away with the goods, that infernal scoundrel 
 will manage some way to implicate me and rob me 
 of my good name and my liberty as well. Hell!" 
 he exploded " seems to me I 'm entitled to be 
 excited ! " 
 
 Staff's Unspoken comment was that this explanation 
 of the little man's agitation was something strained 
 and inconclusive: unsatisfactory at best. It was not 
 apparent how (even assuming the historical Mr. Ismay 
 to be at that moment stealing the Cadogan collar 
 
 194
 
 from Miss Searle) the crime could be fastened on Mr. 
 Iff, in the face of the positive alibi Staff could 
 furnish him. On the other hand, it was indubitable 
 that Iff believed himself endangered in some mys 
 terious way, or had some other and still more secret 
 cause for disquiet. For his uneasiness was so mani 
 fest, in such sharp contrast with his habitual, semi- 
 cynical repose, that even he had n't attempted to 
 deny it. 
 
 With a shrug Staff turned back to the telephone 
 and asked for the manager of the exchange, explained 
 his predicament and was promised that, if the call 
 could be traced back to the original station, he should 
 have the number. He was, however, counselled to be 
 patient. Such a search would take time, quite possibly 
 and very probably. 
 
 He explained this to Iff, whose disgust was ill- 
 disguised. 
 
 "And meanwhile," he expostulated, "we're sitting 
 here with our hands in our laps useless and 
 Ismay, as like 's not, is " He broke into profanity, 
 trotting up and down and twisting his small hands 
 together. 
 
 "I wish," said Staff, "I knew what makes you act 
 this way. Ismay can't saddle you with a crime com 
 mitted by him when you 're in my company "
 
 196 THE BANDBOX 
 
 "You don't know him," interpolated Iff. 
 
 " And you surely can't be stirred so deeply by simple 
 solicitude for Miss Searle." 
 
 "Oh, can't I? And how do you know I can't?'* 
 barked the little man. "Gwan leave me alone! 
 I want to think." 
 
 "Best wishes," Staff told him pleasantly. "I'm 
 going to change my clothes." 
 
 "Symptoms of intelligence," grunted Iff. "I was 
 wondering when you 'd wake up to the incongruity 
 of knight-erranting it after damsels in distress in an 
 open-faced get-up like that." 
 
 "It's done, however," argued Staff good-humouredly. 
 " It 's class, if the illustrators are to be believed. 
 Don't you ever read modern fiction? In emergencies 
 like these the hero always takes a cold bath and 
 changes his clothes before sallying forth to put a 
 crimp in the villain's plans. Just the same as me. 
 Only I 'm going to shed evening dress instead of ' 
 
 "Good heavens, man!" snorted Iff. "Are you in 
 training for a monologist's job? If so if not 
 anyway can it! Can the extemporaneous stuff!" 
 
 The telephone bell silenced whatever retort Staff 
 may have contemplated. Both men jumped for the 
 desk, but Staff got there first. 
 
 "Hello?" he cried, receiver at ear. "Yes? Hello?"
 
 THE COLD GREY DAWN 197 
 
 But instead of the masculine accents of the ex 
 change-manager he heard, for the third time that 
 night, the voice of Miss Searle. 
 
 "Yes," he replied almost breathlessly "it is I, 
 Miss Searle. Thank Heaven you called up! I've 
 been worrying silly " 
 
 "We were cut off," the girl's voice responded. He 
 noted, subconsciously, that she was speaking slowly 
 and carefully, as if with effort. . . . "Cut off," she 
 repeated as by rote, "and I had trouble getting you 
 again." 
 
 "Then you 're you 're all right?" 
 
 "Quite, thank you. I had an unpleasant experience 
 trying to get to you by taxicab. The motor broke 
 down coming through Central Park, and I had to walk 
 home and lost my way. But I am all right now 
 just tired out." 
 
 "I'm sorry," he said sincerely. "It's too bad; I 
 was quite ready to call for the you understand 
 and save you the trouble of the trip down here. 
 But I 'm glad you 've had no more unpleasant 
 adventure." 
 
 "The necklace is safe," the girl's voice told him 
 with the same deadly precision of utterance. 
 
 "Oh, yes; I assumed that. And I may call for 
 it?"
 
 198 THE BANDBOX 
 
 " If you please today at noon. I am so tired I am 
 afraid I shan't get up before noon." 
 
 "That '11 be quite convenient to me, thank 
 you," he assured her. "But where are you stop- 
 ping?" 
 
 There fell a brief pause. Then she said something 
 i ndistinguishable. 
 
 "Yes?" he said. "Beg pardon I didn't get 
 that. A little louder please, Miss Searle." 
 
 "The St. Regis." 
 
 "Where?" he repeated in surprise. 
 
 "The St. Regis. I am here with Mrs. Ilkington 
 her guest. Good night, Mr. Staff." 
 
 "Good morning," he laughed; and at once the con 
 nection was severed. 
 
 "And that's all right!" he announced cheerfully, 
 swinging round to face Iff. "She was in a taxicab 
 accident and got lost in Central Park just got home, 
 I infer. The necklace is safe and I 'm to call and get 
 it at twelve o'clock." 
 
 "Where's she stopping?" demanded Iff, shaking 
 his little head as though impatient. Staff named the 
 hotel, and Iff fairly jumped. "Why that 's impos 
 sible!" he cried. "She can't afford it." 
 
 "How do you happen to know she can't?" enquired 
 Staff, perplexed.
 
 THE COLD GREY DAWN 199 
 
 Momentarily Iff showed a face of confusion. "I 
 know a lot of things," he grumbled, evasively. 
 
 Staff waited a moment, then finding that the little 
 man did n't purpose making any more adequate or 
 satisfactory explanation, observed: "It happens that 
 she 's Mrs. Ilkington's guest, and I fancy Mrs. liking- 
 ton can afford it unless you know more about her, 
 too, than I do." 
 
 Iff shook his head, dissatisfied. "All right," he 
 said wearily. " Now what 're you going to 
 do?" 
 
 "I'm going to try to snatch a few hours' sleep. 
 There 's no reason why I should n't, now, with nothing 
 to do before noon." 
 
 "Pleasant dreams," said Iff sourly, as Staff marched 
 off to his bedroom. 
 
 Then he sat down on the edge of the divan, hug 
 ging the dressing-gown round him, scowled vindictively 
 at nothing and began thoughtfully to gnaw a bony 
 knuckle. 
 
 In the other room, his host was undressing with sur 
 prising speed. In spite of his nap, he was still tremen 
 dously tired; perhaps the reaction caused by Eleanor's 
 reassurance capping the climax of his excitement had 
 something to do with the sense of complete mental and 
 physical fatigue that swept over him the instant his
 
 200 THE BANDBOX 
 
 back rested upon the bed. Within two minutes he was 
 fast asleep. 
 
 But in the study Mr. Iff kept vigil, biting his 
 knuckles what time he was not depleting his host's 
 stock of cigarettes. 
 
 Daylight broadened over the city. The sun rose. 
 Not to be outdone, so did Mr. Iff moving quietly 
 round the room, swearing beneath his breath as his 
 conscience dictated, gradually accumulating more and 
 more of the articles of clothing which he had so dis 
 dainfully discarded some hours earlier. 
 
 The telephone interrupted him somewhat after six 
 o'clock. He answered it, assuming Staff's identity 
 for the moment. When the conversation had closed, 
 he sat in reverie for some minutes, then consulted the 
 telephone book and called two numbers in quick 
 succession. Immediately thereafter he tiptoed into 
 the bedroom, assured himself that Staff was fast 
 asleep and proceeded calmly to rifle that gentleman's 
 pockets, carefully placing what he found in an 
 orderly array upon the bureau. In the end, bringing 
 to light a plump bill-fold, he concluded his investi 
 gations. 
 
 The pigskin envelope contained a little less than 
 four-hundred dollars, mostly in gold Treasury certi 
 ficates. Mr. Iff helped himself generously and replaced
 
 THE COLD GREY DAWN 201 
 
 the bill-fold. Then he returned to the study, found 
 paper and pens and wrote Staff a little note, which he 
 propped against the mirror on the bedroom dresser. 
 Finally, filling one of his pockets with cigarettes, he 
 smiled blandly and let himself out of the apartment 
 and, subsequently, of the house. 
 
 Staff slept on, sublimely unconscious, until the sun, 
 slipping round to the south, splashed his face with 
 moulten gold : when he woke, fretful and sweatf ul. He 
 glanced at his watch and got up promptly: the hour 
 approached eleven. Diving into a bathrobe, he turned 
 the water on for his bath, trotted to the front room 
 and discovered the evasion of Mr. Iff. This, however, 
 failed to surprise him. Iff was, after all, not bound to- 
 sit tight until Staff gave him leave to stir. 
 
 He rang for Mrs. Shultz and ordered breakfast. 
 Then he bathed and began to dress. It was during 
 this latter ceremony that he found his pockets turned 
 inside out and their contents displayed upon his 
 bureau. 
 
 This was a shock, especially when he failed to find 
 his bill-fold at the first sweep. The bottom dropped out 
 of the market for confidence in the integrity of Mr. 
 Iff and conceit in the perspicacity of Mr. Staff. 
 He saw instantly how flimsy had been the tissue of 
 falsehood wherewith the soi-disant Mr. Iff had sought
 
 202 THE BANDBOX 
 
 to cloak his duplicity, how egregiously stupid had been 
 his readiness to swallow that extraordinary yarn. The 
 more he considered, the more he marvelled. It sur 
 passed belief his asininity did; at least he wouldn't 
 have believed he could be so easily fooled. He felt like 
 kicking himself and longed unutterably for a chance 
 to kick his erstwhile guest. 
 
 In the midst of this transport he found himself 
 staring incredulously at the envelope on the dresser. 
 He snatched it up, tore it open and removed three 
 pieces of white paper. Two of them were crisp and 
 tough and engraved on one side with jet-black ink. 
 The third bore this communication: 
 
 "Mr DEAR MR. STAFF: Your bill-fold 's in your waist 
 coat pocket, where you left it last night. It contained 
 $385 when I found it. It now contains $200. I leave 
 you by way of security Bank of England notes to the 
 extent of 40. There'll be a bit of change, one way or 
 the other I'm too hurried to calculate which. 
 
 " The exchange manager has just called up. The inter 
 rupted call has been traced back to the Hotel St. Simon 
 in 79th Street, W. I have called the St. Regis; neither 
 Miss Searle nor Mrs. Ilkington has registered there. I 
 have also called the St. Simon; both ladies are there. 
 Your hearing must be defective or else Miss S. did n't 
 know where she was at. 
 
 " I 'm off to line my inwards with food and decorate my 
 outwards with purple and fine underlinen. After which I 
 purpose minding my own business for a few hours or
 
 THE COLD GREY DAWN 203 
 
 days, as the circumstances may demand. But do not 
 grieve I shall return eftsoons or thereabouts. 
 " Yours in the interests of pure crime 
 
 "WHIFF. 
 
 " P. S. And of course neither of us had the sense to 
 ask: If Miss S. was bound here from the St. Regis, how 
 did her taxi manage to break down in Central Park?" 
 
 Prompt investigation revealed the truth of Mr. Iff 's 
 assertion: the bill-fold with its remaining two-hundred 
 dollars was safely tucked away in the waistcoat pocket. 
 Furthermore, the two twenty-pound notes were un 
 questionably genuine. The tide of Staff's faith in 
 human nature began again to flood; the flower of 
 his self-conceit flourished amazingly. He surmised 
 that he was n't such a bad little judge of mankind, 
 after all. 
 
 He breakfasted with a famous appetite, untroubled 
 by Iff s aspersion on his sense of hearing, which was 
 excellent; and he had certainly heard Miss Searle 
 aright: she had named the St. Regis not once, but 
 twice, and each time with the clearest enunciation. 
 He could only attribute the mistake to her excitement 
 and fatigue; people frequently make such mistakes 
 under unusual conditions; if Miss Searle had wished 
 to deceive him as to her whereabouts, she needed only 
 to refrain from communicating with him at all. And
 
 204 THE BANDBOX 
 
 anyway, he knew now where to find her and within the 
 hour would have found her; and then everything would 
 be cleared up. 
 
 He was mildly surprised at the sense of pleasant 
 satisfaction with which he looked forward to meeting 
 the girl again. He reminded himself not to forget to 
 interview a manager or two in her interests. 
 
 Just to make assurance doubly sure, he telephoned 
 the St. Simon while waiting for Shultz to fetch a taxi- 
 cab. The switchboard operator at that establishment 
 replied in the affirmative to his enquiry as to whether 
 or not Mrs. Ilkington and Miss Searle were registered 
 there. 
 
 On the top of this he was called up by Alison. 
 
 "I 'm just starting out cab waiting," he told her 
 at once " to go to Miss Searle and get your 
 property." 
 
 "Oh, you are?" she returned in what he thought a 
 singular tone. 
 
 "Yes; she called me up last night said she'd 
 discovered the mistake and the ah property - 
 asked me to call today at noon." 
 
 There was no necessity that he could see of detail 
 ing the whole long story over a telephone wire. 
 
 "Well," said Alison after a little pause, "I don't 
 want to interfere with your amusements, but . . .
 
 THE COLD GREY DAWN 205 
 
 I 've something very particular to say to you. I wish 
 you 'd stop here on your way up-town." 
 
 "Why, certainly," he agreed without hesitation or 
 apprehension. 
 
 The actress had put up, in accordance with her 
 custom, at a handsome, expensive and world-famous 
 hotel in the immediate neighbourhood of Staff's rooms. 
 Consequently he found himself in her presence within 
 fifteen minutes from the end of their talk by tele 
 phone. 
 
 Dressed for the street and looking uncommonly 
 handsome, she was waiting for him in the sitting-room 
 of her suite. As he entered, she came forward and 
 gave him a cool little hand and a greeting as cool. He 
 received both with an imperturbability founded (he 
 discovered to his great surprise) on solid indifference. 
 It was hard to realise that he no longer cared for her, 
 or whether she were pleased or displeased with him. 
 But he didn't. He concluded, not without profound 
 amazement, that his passion for her which had burned 
 so long and brightly had been no more than senti 
 mental incandescence. And he began to think himself 
 a very devil of a fellow, who could toy with the 
 love of women with such complete insouciance, whc* 
 could off with the old love before he had found a new 
 and care not a rap! . . .
 
 206 THE BANDBOX 
 
 Throughout this self-analysis he was mouthing 
 commonplaces assuring her that the day was fine, 
 that he had never felt better, that she was looking 
 her charming best. Of a sudden his vision compre 
 hended an article which adorned the centre-table; and 
 words forsook him and his jaw dropped. 
 
 It was the bandbox: not that which he had left, 
 with its cargo of trash, in his rooms. 
 
 Alison followed his glance, elevated her brows, and 
 indicated the box with a wave of her arm. 
 
 "And what d' you know about that?" she enquired 
 bluntly. 
 
 "Where did it come from?" he counter-questioned, 
 all agape. 
 
 "I'm asking you." 
 
 "But I know nothing about it. Did Miss Searle 
 send it ?" 
 
 " I can't say," replied the actress drily. " Your name 
 on the tag has been scratched out and mine, with this 
 address, written above it." 
 
 Staff moved over to the table and while he was 
 intently scrutinising the tag, Alison continued: 
 
 "It came by messenger about eight this morning 
 Jane brought it to me when I got up a little while 
 ago." 
 
 "The hat was in it?" he asked.
 
 THE COLD GREY DAWN 207 
 
 She nodded impatiently: "Oh, of course with the 
 lining half ripped out and the necklace missing." 
 
 "Curious!" he murmured. 
 
 "Rather," she agreed. "What do you make of it?" 
 
 "This address isn't her writing," he said, deep in 
 thought. 
 
 "Oh, so you're familiar with the lady's hand?" 
 There was an accent in Alison's voice that told him, 
 before he looked, that her lip was curling and her eyes 
 were hard. 
 
 "This is a man's writing," he said quietly, wondering 
 if it could be possible that Alison was jealous. 
 
 "Well?" she demanded. "What of it?" 
 
 " I don't know. Miss Searle got me on the telephone 
 a little after one last night; she said she 'd found the 
 necklace in the hat and was bringing it to me." 
 
 " How did she know it was mine? " 
 
 "Heard you order it sent to me, in London. You'll 
 remember my telling you she knew." 
 
 "Oh, yes. Goon." 
 
 " She did n't show up, but telephoned again some 
 time round four o'clock explaining that she had been 
 in a taxicab accident in the Park and lost her way but 
 finally got home that is, to her hotel, the St. Simon. 
 She said the necklace was safe didn't mention 
 the hat and asked me to call for it at noon to-
 
 208 THE BANDBOX 
 
 day. I said I would, and I'm by way of being late 
 now. Doubtless she can explain how the hat came 
 to you this way." 
 
 "I '11 be interested to hear," said Alison, "and to 
 know that the necklace is really safe. On the face of 
 it as it stands there 's something queer wrong. 
 . . . What are you going to do? " 
 
 Staff had moved toward the telephone. He paused, 
 explaining that he was about to call up Miss Searle 
 for reassurance. Alison negatived this instantly. 
 
 "Why waste time? If she has the thing, the quickest 
 way to get it is to go to her now at once. If she 
 hasn't, the quickest way to get after it is via the 
 same route. I 'm all ready and if you are we '11 go 
 immediately." 
 
 Staff bowed, displeased with her manner to the 
 point of silence. He had no objection to her being as 
 temperamental as she pleased, but he objected strongly 
 to having it implied by everything except spoken 
 words that he was in some way responsible for the 
 necklace and that Eleanor Searle was quite capable of 
 conspiring to steal it. 
 
 As for Alison, her humour was dangerously impreg 
 nated with the consciousness that she had played the 
 fool to such an extent that she stood in a fair way to 
 lose her necklace. Inasmuch as she knew this to be
 
 THE COLD GREY DAWN 209 
 
 altogether her fault, whatever the outcome, ,she was in 
 a mood to quarrel with the whole wide world; and she 
 schooled herself to treat with Staff on terms of tol 
 eration only by exercise of considerable self-command 
 and because she was exacting a service of him. 
 
 So their ride uptown was marked by its atmosphere 
 of distant and dispassionate civility. They spoke in 
 frequently, and then on indifferent topics soon suf 
 fered to languish. Indue course, however, Staff mastered 
 his resentment and as evidenced by his wry, secret 
 smile began to take a philosophic view of the sit 
 uation, to extract some slight amusement from his 
 insight into Alison's mental processes. Intuitively 
 sensing this, she grew even more exasperated with 
 him as well as with everybody aside from her own 
 impeccable self. 
 
 At the St. Simon, Staff soberly escorted the woman 
 to the lounge, meaning to leave her there while he 
 enquired for Eleanor at the office; but they had barely 
 set foot in the apartment when then' names were 
 shrieked at them in an excitable, shrill, feminine voice, 
 and Mrs. Ilkington bore down upon them in full 
 regalia of sensation. 
 
 "My dears!" she cried, regarding them affection 
 ately "such a surprise! Such a delightful surprise! 
 And so good of you to come to see me so soon! And
 
 210 THE BANDBOX 
 
 opportune I 'm dying, positively expiring, for some 
 body to gossip with. Such a singular thing has 
 happened " 
 
 Alison interrupted bluntly: "Where's Miss Searle? 
 Mr. Staff is anxious to see her." 
 
 "That's just it just what I want to talk about. 
 You 'd never guess what that girl has done and after 
 all the trouble and thought I Ve taken in her behalf, 
 too! I'm disgusted, positively and finally disgusted; 
 never again will I interest myself in such people. 
 I-" 
 
 "But where is Miss Searle?" demanded Alison, with 
 a significant look to Staff. 
 
 "Gone! " announced Mrs. Ilkington impressively. 
 
 "Gone? "echoed Staff. 
 
 Mrs. Ilkington nodded vigorously, compressing her 
 lips to a thin line of disapproval. " I 'm positively at 
 my wits' end to account for her." 
 
 " I fancy there 's an explanation, however," Alison 
 put in. 
 
 "I wish you'd tell me, then. . . . You see, we 
 dined out, went to the theatre and supper together, 
 last night. The Struyvers asked me, and I made them 
 include her, of course. We got back about one. Of 
 course, my dears, I was fearfully tired and did n't get 
 up till half an hour ago. Imagine my sensation when
 
 THE COLD GREY DAWN 211 
 
 I enquired for Miss Searle and was informed that she 
 paid her bill and left at five o'clock this morning, and 
 with a strange man!" 
 
 "She left you a note, of course?" Staff suggested. 
 
 "Not a line nothing! I might be the dirt beneath 
 her feet, the way she 's treated me. I 'm thoroughly 
 disillusioned disgusted!" 
 
 "Pardon me," said Staff; "I '11 have a word with the 
 office." 
 
 He hurried away, leaving Mrs. Ilkington still volubly 
 dilating on that indignity that had been put upon 
 her: Alison listening with an ah- of infinite de 
 tachment. 
 
 His enquiry was fruitless enough. The day-clerk, 
 he was informed by that personage, had not come on 
 duty until eight o'clock; he knew nothing of the affair 
 beyond what he had been told by the night-clerk 
 that Miss Searle had called for her bill and paid it at 
 five o'clock; had given instructions to have her luggage 
 removed from her room and delivered on presentation 
 of her written order; and had then left the hotel in 
 company with a gentleman who registered as "I. 
 Arbuthnot " at one o'clock in the morning, paying for 
 his room in advance. 
 
 Staff, consumed with curiosity about this gentle 
 man, was so persistent in his enquiry that he finally
 
 THE BANDBOX 
 
 unearthed the bell-boy who had shown that guest 
 to his room and who furnished what seemed to be a 
 tolerably accurate sketch of him. 
 
 The man described was Iff. 
 
 Discouraged and apprehensive, Staff returned to the 
 lounge and made his report one received by Alison 
 with frigid disapproval, by Mrs. Ilkington with every 
 symptom of cordial animation; from which it became 
 immediately apparent that Alison had told the elder 
 woman everything she should not have told her. 
 
 ''I. Arbuthnot,'" Alison translated: "Arbuthnot 
 Ismay." 
 
 "Gracious!" Mrs. Ilkington squealed. "Isn't that 
 the real name of that odd creature who called himself 
 Iff and pretended to be a Secret Service man?" 
 
 Staff nodded a glum assent. 
 
 "It's plain enough," Alison went on; "this Searle 
 woman was in league with him " 
 
 "I disagree with you," said Staff. 
 
 "On what grounds?" 
 
 "I don't believe that Miss Searle" 
 
 "On what grounds?" 
 
 He shrugged, acknowledging his inability to explain. 
 
 "And what will you do?" interrupted Mrs. Ilkington. 
 
 "I shall inform the police, of course," said Alison; 
 "and the sooner the better."
 
 THE COLD GREY DAWN 213 
 
 "If I may venture so far," Staff said stiffly, "I 
 advise you to do nothing of the sort." 
 
 "And why not, if you please?" 
 
 "It's rather a delicate case," he said "if you'll 
 pause to consider it. You must not forget that you 
 yourself broke the law when you contrived to smuggle 
 the necklace into this country. The minute you make 
 this matter public, you lay yourself open to arrest and 
 prosecution for swindling the Government." 
 
 "Swindling!" Alison repeated with a flaming face. 
 
 Staff bowed, confirming the word. "It is a very 
 serious charge these days," he said soberly. "I 'd 
 advise you to think twice before you make any overt 
 move." 
 
 "But if I deny attempting to smuggle the necklace? 
 If I insist that it was stolen from me aboard the Auto 
 cratic stolen by this Mr. Ismay and this Searle 
 woman ? " 
 
 "Miss Searle did not steal your necklace. If she 
 had intended anything of the sort, she would n't have 
 telephoned me about it last night. " 
 
 "Nevertheless, she has gone away with it, arm-in 
 arm with a notorious thief, has n't she?" 
 
 "We're not yet positive what she has done. For 
 my part, I am confident she will communicate with us 
 and return the necklace with the least possible delay."
 
 THE BANDBOX 
 
 "Nevertheless, I shall set the police after her!" 
 Alison insisted obstinately. 
 
 "Again I advise you " 
 
 "But I shall deny the smuggling, base my charge 
 on " 
 
 "One moment," Staff interposed firmly. "You 
 forget me. I'm afraid I can adduce considerable evi 
 dence to prove that you not only attempted to smuggle, 
 but as a matter of fact did." 
 
 "And you would do that to me?" snapped the 
 actress. 
 
 "I mean that Miss Searle shall have every chance 
 to prove her innocence," he returned in an even and 
 unyielding voice. 
 
 "Why? What's your interest in her?" 
 
 "Simple justice," he said and knew his answer 
 to be evasive and unconvincing. 
 
 "As a matter of fact," said Alison, rising in her anger, 
 "you've fallen in love with the girl!" 
 
 Staff held her gaze in silence. 
 
 "You're in love with her," insisted the actress 
 " in love with this common thief and confidence- 
 woman ! " 
 
 Staff nodded gently. "Perhaps," said he, "you 're 
 right. I had n't thought of it that way before. . . . 
 But, if you doubt my motive in advising you to go
 
 THE COLD GREY DAWN 215 
 
 slow, consult somebody else somebody you feel 
 you can trust: Max, for instance, or your attorney. 
 Meanwhile, I 'd ask Mrs. Ilkington to be discreet, if 
 I were you." 
 
 Saluting them ceremoniously, he turned and left the 
 hotel, deeply dejected, profoundly bewildered and . . . 
 wondering whether or not Alison in her rage had un 
 covered a secret unsuspected even by himself, to whom 
 it should have been most intimate.
 
 XII 
 
 WON'T YOU WALK INTO MY PARLOUR? 
 
 SLIPPING quickly into the room through an open 
 ing hardly wide enough to admit his spare, 
 small body, the man as quickly shut and locked the 
 door and pocketed the key. This much accomplished, 
 he swung on his heel and, without further movement, 
 fastened his attention anew upon the girl. 
 
 Standing so hands clasped loosely before him, his 
 head thrust forward a trifle above his rounded shoulders, 
 pale eyes peering from their network of wrinkles with 
 a semi-humourous suggestion, thin lips curved in an 
 apologetic grin: his likeness to the Mr. Iff known 
 to Staff was something more than striking. One 
 needed to be intimately and recently acquainted with 
 Iff's appearance to be able to detect the almost imper 
 ceptible points of difference between the two. Had 
 Staff been there he might have questioned the colour 
 of this man's eyes, which showed a lighter tint than 
 Iff's, and their expression here vigilant and preda 
 tory in contrast with Iff's languid, half-derisive look. 
 The line of the cheek from nose to mouth, too, was 
 
 216
 
 WON'T YOU WALK IN? 217 
 
 deeper and more hard than with Iff; and there was a 
 hint of elevation in the nostrils that lent the face a 
 guise of malice and evil like the shadow of an im 
 personal sneer. 
 
 The look he bent upon Eleanor was almost a sneer: 
 a smile in part contemptuous, in part studious; as 
 though he pondered a problem in human chemistry 
 from the view-point of a seasoned and experienced 
 scientist. He cocked his head a bit to one side and 
 stared insolently beneath half-lowered lids, now and 
 again nodding ever so slightly as if in confirmation of 
 some unspoken conclusion. 
 
 Against the cold, inflexible purpose in his manner, 
 the pitiful prayer expressed in the girl's attitude spent 
 itself without effect. Her hands dropped to her 
 sides; her head drooped wearily, hopelessly; her 
 pose personified despondency profound and irreme 
 diable. 
 
 When he had timed his silence cunningly, to ensure 
 the most impressive effect, the man moved, shifting 
 from one foot to the other, and spoke. 
 
 "Well, Nelly . . . ?" 
 
 His voice, modulated to an amused drawl, was much 
 like Iff's. 
 
 The girl's lips moved noiselessly for an instant before 
 she managed to articulate.
 
 218 THE BANDBOX 
 
 "So," she said in a quiet tone of horror "So it 
 was you all the time!" 
 
 "What was me?" enquired the man inelegantly if 
 with spirit. 
 
 "I mean," she said, "you were after the necklace, 
 after all." 
 
 " To be sure," he said pertly. " What did you think? " 
 
 "I hoped it wasn't so," she said brokenly. "When 
 you escaped yesterday morning, and when tonight I 
 found the necklace I was so glad!" 
 
 "Then you did find it?" he demanded promptly. 
 
 She gave him a look of contempt. "You know 
 it!" 
 
 "My dear child," he expostulated insincerely, "what 
 makes you say that?" 
 
 "You don't mean to pretend you didn't steal the 
 bandbox from me, just now, in that taxicab, trying to 
 get the necklace? " she demanded. 
 
 He waited an instant, then shrugged. "I presume 
 denial would be useless." 
 
 "Quite." 
 
 "All right then: I won't deny anything." 
 
 She moved away from the telephone to a chair 
 wherein she dropped as if exhausted, hands knitted 
 together in her lap, her chin resting on her 
 chest.
 
 WON'T YOU WALK IN? 
 
 "You see," said the man, "I wanted to spare you the 
 knowledge that you were being held up by your fond 
 parent." 
 
 "I should have known you," she said, "but for that 
 disguise the beard and motor-coat." 
 
 "That just goes to show that filial affection will out," 
 commented the man. "You have n't seen me for seven 
 years 
 
 "Except on the steamer," she corrected. 
 
 "True; but there I kept considerately out of your 
 way." 
 
 "Considerately!" she echoed in a bitter tone. 
 
 "Can you question it?" he asked, lightly ironic, 
 moving noiselessly to and fro while appraising 
 the contents of the room with swift, searching 
 glances. 
 
 "As, for instance, your actions tonight. ..." 
 
 "They simply prove my contention, dear child.'* 
 He paused, gazing down at her with a quizzical leer. 
 "My very presence here affirms my entire devotion to 
 your welfare." 
 
 She looked up, dumfounded by his effrontery. "Is 
 it worth while to waste your time so? " she enquired. 
 "You failed the first time tonight, but you can't fail 
 now; I'm alone, I can't oppose you, and you know I 
 won't raise an alarm. Why not stop talking, take what
 
 220 THE BANDBOX 
 
 you want and go? And leave me to be accused of theft 
 unless I choose to tell the world what it would n't 
 believe that my own father stole the necklace from 
 me!" 
 
 "Ah, but how unjust you are!" exclaimed the man. 
 "How little you know me, how little you appreciate a 
 father's affection!" 
 
 "And you tried to rob me not two hours ago!" 
 
 "Yes," he said cheerfully: "I admit it. If I had 
 got away with it then well and good. You need 
 never have known who it was. Unhappily for both of 
 us, you fooled me." 
 
 "For both of us?" she repeated blankly. 
 
 " Precisely. It puts you in a most serious position. 
 That 's why I 'm here to save you." 
 
 In spite of her fatigue, the girl rose to face him. 
 "What do you mean?" 
 
 "Simply that between us we've gummed this busi 
 ness up neatly hard and fast. You see I had n't 
 any use for that hat; I stopped in at an all-night 
 telegraph, station and left it to be delivered to Miss 
 Landis, never dreaming what the consequences would 
 be. Immediately thereafter, but too late, I learned 
 I Ve a way of finding out what 's going on, you know 
 that Miss Landis had already put the case in the hands 
 of the police. It makes it very serious for you the
 
 WON'T YOU WALK IN? 
 
 bandbox returned, the necklace still in your possession, 
 your wild, incredible yarn about meaning to restore 
 it . . ." 
 
 In her overwrought and harassed condition, the soph 
 istry illuded her; she was sensible only of the menace 
 his words distilled. She saw herself tricked and trapped, 
 meshed in a web of damning circumstance; every 
 thing was against her appearances, the hands of all 
 men, the cruel accident that had placed the necklace 
 in her keeping, even her parentage. For she was the 
 daughter of a notorious thief, a man whose name was 
 an international byword. Who would believe her 
 protestations of innocence presuming that the police 
 should find her before she could reach either Staff or 
 Miss Landis? 
 
 "But," she faltered, white to her lips, "I can take it 
 to her now instantly " 
 
 Instinctively she clutched her handbag. The man's 
 eyes appreciated the movement. His face was shadowed 
 for a thought by the flying cloud of a sardonic smile. 
 And the girl saw and read that smile. 
 
 "Unless," she stammered, retreating from him a 
 pace or two " unless you " 
 
 He silenced her with a reassuring gesture. 
 
 "You do misjudge me!" he said in a voice that 
 fairly wept.
 
 222 THE BANDBOX 
 
 Hope flamed in her eyes. "You mean you can't 
 mean " 
 
 Again he lifted his hand. " I mean that you miscon 
 strue my motive. Far be it from me to deny that I 
 am what I am. We have ever been plain-spoken 
 with one another. You told me what I was seven 
 years ago, when you left me, took another name, dis 
 owned me and ..." His voice broke affectingly for 
 an instant. "No matter," he resumed, with an obvious 
 effort. "The past is past, and I am punished for all 
 that I have ever done or ever may do, by the loss of 
 my daughter's confidence and affection. It is my 
 fault; I have no right to complain. But now . . . 
 Yes, I admit I tried to steal the necklace in the Park 
 tonight. But I failed, and failing I did that which got 
 you into trouble. Now I 'm here to help you extricate 
 yourself. Don't worry about the necklace keep it, 
 hide it where you will. I don't want and shan't touch, 
 it on any conditions." 
 
 "You mean I'm free to return it to Miss Landis?" 
 she gasped, incredulous. 
 
 "Just that." 
 
 "Then where can I find her?" 
 
 He shrugged. "There 's the rub. She 's left town." 
 
 She steadied herself with a hand on the table. " Still 
 I can follow her- - ,
 
 "Yes and must. That's what I've come to tell 
 you and to help you do." 
 
 " Where has she gone? " 
 
 "To her country place in Connecticut, on the Sound 
 shore." 
 
 "How can I get there? By railroad?" Eleanor 
 started toward the telephone. 
 
 "Hold on!" he said sharply. "What are you going 
 to do?" 
 
 "Order a time-table " 
 
 "Useless," he commented curtly. "Every terminal 
 in the city is already watched by detectives. They'd 
 spot you in a twinkling. Your only salvation is to 
 get to Miss Landis before they catch you." 
 
 In her excitement and confusion she could only 
 stand and stare. A solitary thought dominated her 
 consciousness, dwarfing and distorting all others: she 
 was in danger of arrest, imprisonment, the shame and 
 ignominy of public prosecution. Even though she 
 were to be cleared of the charge, the stain of it would 
 cling to her, an ineradicable blot. 
 
 And every avenue of escape was closed to her! 
 Her lips trembled and her eyes brimmed, glistening. 
 Despair lay cold in her heart. 
 
 She was so weary and distraught with the strain of 
 nerves taut and vibrant with emotion, that she was
 
 THE BANDBOX 
 
 by no means herself. She had no time for either 
 thought or calm consideration; and even with plenty 
 of time, she would have found herself unable to think 
 clearly and calmly. 
 
 "What am I to do, then?" she whispered. 
 
 "Trust me," the man replied quietly. "There 's 
 just one way to reach this woman without risk of 
 detection and that 's good only if we act now. Get 
 your things together; pay your bill; leave word to 
 deliver your trunks to your order; and come with me. 
 I have a motor-car waiting round the corner. In an 
 hour we can be out of the city. By noon I can have 
 you at Miss Landis' home." 
 
 "Yes," she cried, almost hysterical "yes, that 's 
 the way!" 
 
 "Then do what packing you must. Here, I'll lend 
 a hand." 
 
 Fortunately, Eleanor had merely opened her trunks 
 and bags, removing only such garments and toilet 
 accessories as she had required for dinner and the 
 theatre. These lay scattered about the room, easily 
 to be gathered up and stuffed with careless haste into 
 her trunks. In ten minutes the man was turning the 
 keys in their various locks, while she stood waiting with 
 a small handbag containing a few necessaries, a motor- 
 coat over her arm, a thick veil draped from her hat.
 
 WON'T YOU WALK IN? 225 
 
 "One minute," the man said, straightening up from 
 the last piece of luggage. "You were telephoning when 
 I came in?" 
 
 "Yes to Mr. Staff, to explain why I failed to bring 
 him the bandbox." 
 
 "Hmmm." He pondered this, chin in hand. "He'll 
 be fretting. Does he know where you are? " 
 
 "No I forgot to tell him." 
 
 "That's good. Still, you'd better call him up again 
 and put his mind at rest. It may gain us a few hours." 
 
 "What am I to say?" 
 
 She lifted her hand to the receiver. 
 
 "Tell him you were cut off and had trouble getting 
 his number again. Say your motor broke down in 
 Central Park and you lost your way trying to walk 
 home. Say you 're tired and don't want to be disturbed 
 till noon; that you have the necklace safe and will 
 give it to him if he will call tomorrow." 
 
 Eleanor took a deep breath, gave the number to 
 the switchboard operator and before she had time 
 to give another instant's consideration to what she 
 was doing, found herself in conversation with Staff, re 
 citing the communication outlined by her evil genius 
 in response to his eager questioning. 
 
 The man was at her elbow all the while she talked 
 so close that he could easily overhear the other
 
 226 THE BANDBOX 
 
 end of the dialogue. This was with a purpose made 
 manifest when Staff asked Eleanor where she was stop 
 ping, when instantly the little man clapped his palm 
 over the transmitter. 
 
 "Tell him the St. Regis," he said in a sharp whisper. 
 
 Her eyes demanded the reason why. 
 
 "Don't stop to argue do as I say: it '11 give us 
 more time. The St. Regis!" 
 
 He removed his hand. Blindly she obeyed, reiterat 
 ing the name to Staff and presently saying good-bye. 
 
 "And now not a second to spare hurry!" 
 
 In the hallway, while they waited for the elevator, 
 he had further instructions for her. 
 
 "Go to the desk and ask for your bill," he said, 
 handing her the key to her room. "You Ve money, 
 of course? . . . Say that you 're called unexpectedly 
 away and will send a written order for your trunks 
 early in the morning. If the clerk wants an address, 
 tell him the Auditorium, Chicago. Now ..." 
 
 They stepped from the dimly lighted hall into the 
 brilliant cage of the elevator. It dropped, silently, 
 swiftly, to the ground floor, somehow suggesting to 
 the girl the workings of her implacable, irresistible des 
 tiny. So precisely, she felt, she was being whirled 
 on to her fate, like a dry leaf in a gale, with no more 
 , volition, as impotent to direct her course. . . .
 
 WON'T YOU WALK IN? 227 
 
 Still under the obsession of this idea, she went to 
 the desk, paid her bill and said what she had been told 
 to say about her trunks. Beyond that point she did 
 not go, chiefly because she had forgotten and was 
 too numb with fatigue to care. The clerk's question 
 as to her address failed to reach her understanding; 
 she turned away without responding and went to 
 join at the door the man who seemed able to sway her 
 to his whim. 
 
 She found herself walking in the dusky streets, strug 
 gling to keep up with the rapid pace set by the man 
 at her side. 
 
 After some time they paused before a building in a 
 side street. By its low facade and huge sliding doors 
 she dimly perceived it to be a private garage. In 
 response to a signal of peculiar rhythm knuckled upon 
 the wood by her companion, the doors rolled back. 
 A heavy-eyed mechanic saluted them drowsily. On 
 the edge of the threshold a high-powered car with a 
 close-coupled body stood ready. 
 
 With the docility of that complete indifference which 
 is bred of deadening weariness, she submitted to being 
 helped to her seat, arranged her veil to protect her 
 face and sat back with folded hands, submissive to 
 endure whatsoever chance or mischance there might 
 oe in store for her.
 
 228 THE BANDBOX 
 
 The small man took the seat by her side; the me 
 chanic cranked and jumped to his place. The motor 
 snorted, trembling like a thoroughbred about to run 
 a race, then subsiding with a sonorous purr swept 
 sedately out into the deserted street, swung round a 
 corner into Broadway, settled its tires into the 
 grooves of the car-tracks and leaped northwards like 
 an arrow. 
 
 The thoroughfare was all but bare of traffic. Now 
 and again they had to swing away from the car-tracks 
 to pass a surface-car; infrequently they passed early 
 milk wagons, crawling reluctantly over their routes. 
 Pedestrians were few and far between, and only once, 
 when they dipped into the hollow at Manhattan 
 Street, was it necessary to reduce speed in defer 
 ence to the law as bodied forth in a balefully 
 glaring, solitary policeman. 
 
 The silken song of six cylinders working in abso 
 lute harmony was as soothing as a lullaby, the sweep 
 of the soft, fresh morning air past one's cheeks 
 as soft and quieting as a mother's caress. Eleanor 
 yielded to their influence as naturally as a tired child. 
 Her eyes closed; she breathed regularly, barely con 
 scious of the sensation of resistless flight. 
 
 Hot and level, the rays of the rising sun smote her 
 face and roused her as the car crossed McComb's
 
 WON'T YOU WALK IN? 229 
 
 Dam Bridge; and for a little time thereafter she 
 was drowsily sentient aware of wheeling streets and 
 endless, marching ranks of houses. Then again she 
 dozed, recovering her senses only when, after a lapse 
 of perhaps half an hour, the noise of the motor ceased 
 and the big machine slowed down smoothly to a dead 
 halt. 
 
 She opened her eyes, comprehending dully a com 
 plete change in the aspect of the land. They had 
 stopped on the right of the road, in front of a low- 
 roofed wooden building whose signboard creaking over 
 head in the breeze named the place an inn. To 
 the left lay a stretch of woodland; and there were 
 trees, too, behind the inn, but in less thick array, so 
 that it was possible to catch through their trunks and 
 foliage glimpses of blue water splashed with golden 
 sunlight. A soft air fanned in off the water, sweet 
 and clean. The sky was high and profoundly blue, 
 unflecked by cloud. 
 
 With a feeling of gratitude, she struggled to recollect 
 her wits and realise her position; but still her weari 
 ness was heavy upon her. The man she called her 
 father was coming down the path from the inn door 
 way. He carried a tumbler brimming with a pale 
 amber liquid. Walking round to her side of the car 
 he offered it.
 
 230 THE BANDBOX 
 
 "Drink this," she heard him say in a pleasant voice; 
 " it '11 help you brace up." 
 
 Obediently she accepted the glass and drank. The 
 soul of the stuff broke out in delicate, aromatic bubbles 
 beneath her nostrils. There was a stinging but re 
 freshing feeling in her mouth and throat. She said 
 "champagne" sleepily to herself, and with a word of 
 thanks returned an empty glass. 
 
 She heard the man laugh, and in confusion 
 wondered why. If anything, she felt more sleepy 
 than before. 
 
 He climbed back into his seat. A question crawled 
 in her brain, tormenting. Finally she managed to 
 enunciate a part of it: 
 
 "How much longer . . . ?" 
 
 "Oh, not a great ways now." 
 
 The response seemed to come from a far distance. 
 She felt the car moving beneath her and ... no more. 
 Sleep possessed her utterly, heavy and dreamless. . . . 
 
 There followed several phases of semi-consciousness 
 wherein she moved by instinct alone, seeing men as 
 trees walking, the world as through a mist. 
 
 In one, she was being helped out of the motor-car. 
 Then somebody was holding her arm and guiding her 
 along a path of some sort. Planks rang hollowly 
 beneath her feet, and the hand on her arm detained
 
 WON'T YOU WALK IN? 231 
 
 her. A voice said: "This way just step right out; 
 you 're perfectly safe." Mechanically she obeyed. She 
 felt herself lurch as if to fall, and then hands caught 
 and supported her as she stood on something that 
 swayed. The voice that had before spoken was ad 
 vising her to sit down and take it easy. Accordingly, 
 she sat down. Her seat was rocking like a swing, and 
 she heard dimly the splash of waters; these merged 
 unaccountably again into the purring of a motor. . . . 
 
 And then somebody had an arm round her waist 
 and she was walking, bearing heavily upon that sup 
 port, partly because she sorely needed it but the more 
 readily because she knew somehow intuitively 
 that the arm was a woman's. A voice assured her from 
 time to time: "Not much farther ..." And she 
 was sure it was a woman's voice. . . . Then she was 
 being helped to ascend a steep, long staircase. . . . 
 
 She came to herself for a moment, probably not 
 long after climbing the stairs. She was sitting on the 
 edge of a bed in a small, low-ceiled room, cheaply and 
 meagrely furnished. Staring wildly about her, she 
 tried to realise these surroundings. There were two 
 windows, both open, admitting floods of sea ah* and 
 sunlight; beyond them she saw green boughs swaying 
 slowly, and through the boughs patches of water, blue 
 and gold. There was a door opposite the bed; it stood
 
 232 THE BANDBOX 
 
 open, revealing a vista of long, bare hallway, regularly 
 punctuated by doors. 
 
 The drumming in her temples pained and bewildered 
 her. Her head felt dense and heavy. She tried to 
 think and failed. But the knowledge persisted that 
 something was very wrong with her world some 
 thing that might be remedied, set right, if only she 
 could muster up strength to move and . . . think. 
 
 Abruptly the doorway was filled by the figure of 
 a woman, a strapping, brawny creature with the arms 
 and shoulders of a man and a great, coarse, good- 
 natured face. She came directly to the bed, sat down 
 beside the girl, passed an arm behind her shoulders 
 and offered her a glass. 
 
 "You 've just woke up, ain't you?" she said sooth 
 ingly. " Drink this and lay down and you '11 feel 
 better before long. You have had a turn, and no 
 mistake; but you '11 be all right now, never fear. 
 Come now, drink it, and I '11 help you loose your 
 clothes a bit, so 's you can be comfortable. ..." 
 
 Somehow her tone inspired Eleanor with confidence. 
 She drank, submitted to being partially undressed, 
 and lay down. Sleep overcame her immediately: she 
 suffered a sensation of dropping plummet-wise into a 
 great pit of oblivion. . . .
 
 XIII 
 
 WRECK ISLAND 
 
 SUDDENLY, with a smothered cry of surprise, 
 Eleanor sat up. She seemed to have recovered 
 full consciousness and sensibility with an instantane 
 ous effect comparable only to that of electric light 
 abruptly flooding a room at night. A moment ago 
 she had been an insentient atom sunk deep in im 
 penetrable night; now she was herself and it was 
 broad daylight. 
 
 With an abrupt, automatic movement, she left the 
 bed and stood up, staring incredulously at the sub 
 stance of what still wore in her memory the guise of a 
 dream. 
 
 But it had been no dream, after all. She was actu 
 ally in the small room with the low ceiling and the door 
 (now shut) and the windows that revealed the green 
 of leaves and the blue and gold of a sun-spangled sea. 
 And her coat and hat and veil had been removed and 
 were hanging from nails in the wall behind the door, 
 and her clothing had been unfastened precisely as 
 
 233
 
 234 THE BANDBOX 
 
 she dimly remembered everything that had happened 
 with relation to the strange woman. 
 
 She wore a little wrist-watch. It told her that the 
 hour was after four in the afternoon. 
 
 She began hurriedly to dress, or rather to repair 
 the disorder of her garments, all the while struggling 
 between surprise that she felt rested and well and 
 strong, and a haunting suspicion that she had been 
 tricked. 
 
 Of the truth of this suspicion, confirmatory evidence 
 presently overwhelmed her. 
 
 Since that draught of champagne before the road 
 side inn shortly after sunrise, she had known nothing 
 clearly. It was impossible that she could without 
 knowing it have accomplished her purpose with 
 relation to Alison Landis and the Cadogan collar. 
 She saw now, she knew now beyond dispute, that she 
 had been drugged not necessarily heavily; a simple 
 dose of harmless bromides would have served the 
 purpose in her overtaxed condition and brought 
 to this place in a semi-stupor, neither knowing whither 
 she went nor able to object had she known. 
 
 The discovery of her handbag was all that was re 
 quired to transmute fears and doubts into irrefragable 
 knowledge. 
 
 No longer fastened to her wrist by the loop of its
 
 WRECK ISLAND 235 
 
 silken thong, she found the bag in plain sight on the 
 top of a cheap pine bureau. With feverish haste she 
 examined it. The necklace was gone. 
 
 Dropping the bag, she stared bitterly at her dis 
 torted reflection in a cracked and discoloured mirror. 
 
 What a fool, to trust the man! In the clear illumi 
 nation of unclouded reason which she was now able to 
 bring to bear upon the episode, she saw with painful 
 distinctness how readily she had lent herself to be the 
 dupe and tool of the man she called her father. Noth 
 ing that he had urged upon her at the St. Simon had 
 now the least weight in her understanding; all his 
 argument was now seen to be but the sheerest sophistry, 
 every statement he had made and every promise fairly 
 riddled with treachery; hardly a phrase he had uttered 
 would have gained an instant's credence under the 
 analysis of a normal intelligence. He could have ac 
 complished nothing had she not been without sleep 
 for nearly twenty-four hours, with every nerve and 
 fibre and faculty aching for rest. But, so aided 
 with what heartless ease had he beguiled and over 
 reached her! 
 
 Tears, hot and stinging, smarted in her eyes while 
 she fumbled with the fastenings of her attire tears 
 of chagrin and bitter resentment. 
 
 As soon as she was ready and composed, she
 
 236 THE BANDBOX 
 
 opened the door very gently and stepped out into 
 the hall. 
 
 It was a short hall, set like the top bar of a T-square 
 at the end of a long, door-lined corridor. The walls 
 were of white, plain plaster, innocent of paper and in 
 some places darkly blotched with damp and mildew. 
 The floor, though solid, was uncarpeted. Near at hand 
 a flight of steps ran down to the lower floor. 
 
 After a moment of hesitation she chose to explore 
 the long corridor rather than to descend at once by 
 the nearer stairway; and gathering her skirts about 
 her ankles (an instinctive precaution against making 
 a noise engendered by the atmosphere of the place 
 rather than the result of coherent thought) she stole 
 quietly along between its narrow walls. 
 
 Although some few were closed, the majority of the 
 doors she passed stood open; and these all revealed 
 small, stuffy cubicles with grimy, unpainted floors, 
 grimy plaster walls and ceilings and grimy windows 
 whose panes were framed in cobwebs and crusted so 
 thick with the accumulated dust and damp of years 
 that they lacked little of complete opacity. No room 
 contained any furnishing of any sort. 
 
 The farther she moved from her bedroom, the more 
 close and stale and sluggish seemed the air, the more 
 oppressive the quiet of this strange tenement. The
 
 WRECK ISLAND 237 
 
 sound of her footfalls, light and stealthy though 
 they were, sounded to her ears weirdly magnified in 
 volume; and the thought came to her that if she 
 were indeed trespassing upon forbidden quarters of 
 the mean and dismal stronghold of some modern 
 Bluebeard, the noise she was making would quickly 
 enough bring the warders down upon her. And 
 yet it must have been that her imagination ex 
 aggerated the slight sounds that attended her cau 
 tious advance; for presently she had proof enough 
 that they could have been audible to none but 
 herself. 
 
 Half-way down the corridor she came unexpectedly 
 to a second staircase; double the width of the other, 
 it ran down to a broad landing and then in two short 
 flights to the ground floor of the building. The well 
 of this stairway disclosed a hall rather large and well- 
 finished, if bare. Directly in front of the landing, 
 where the short flights branched at right angles to the 
 main, was a large double door, one side of which 
 stood slightly ajar. Putting this and that together, 
 Eleanor satisfied herself that she overlooked the 
 entrance-hall and office of an out-of-the-way summer 
 hotel, neither large nor in any way pretentious even 
 in its palmiest days, and now abandoned or, at 
 best, consecrated to the uses of caretakers and who-
 
 238 THE BANDBOX 
 
 ever else might happen to inhabit the wing whence 
 she had wandered. 
 
 Now as she paused for an instant, looking down 
 while turning this thought over in her mind and con 
 sidering the effect upon herself and fortunes of indefi 
 nite sequestration in such a spot, she was startled by 
 a cough from some point invisible to her in the hall 
 below. On the heels of this, she heard something even 
 more inexplicable: the dull and hollow clang of a 
 heavy metal door. Footsteps were audible imme 
 diately : the quick, nervous footfalls of somebody com 
 ing to the front of the house from a point behind the 
 staircase. 
 
 Startled and curious, the girl drew back a careful 
 step or two until sheltered by the corridor wall at its 
 junction with the balustrade. Here she might lurk 
 and peer, see but not be seen, save through unhappy 
 mischance. 
 
 The man came promptly into view. She had fore 
 told his identity, had known it would be ... he 
 whom she must call father. 
 
 He moved briskly to the open door, paused and 
 stood looking out for an instant, then with his air 
 of furtive alertness, yet apparently sure that he was 
 unobserved and wholly unsuspicious of the presence 
 of the girl above him, swung back toward the stair-
 
 WRECK ISLAND 239 
 
 case. For an instant, terrified by the fear that he 
 meant to ascend, she stood poised on the verge of 
 flight; but that he had another intention at once became 
 apparent. Stopping at the foot of the left-hand flight 
 of steps, he laid hold of the turned knob on top of 
 the outer newel post and lifted it from its socket. Then 
 he took something from his coat pocket, dropped it 
 into the hollow of the newel, replaced the knob and 
 turned and marched smartly out of the house, shutting 
 the door behind him. 
 
 Eleanor noticed that he did n't lock it. 
 
 At the same time three separate considerations 
 moved her to fly back to her room. She had seen 
 something not intended for her sight; the knowledge 
 might somehow prove valuable to her; and if she were 
 discovered in the corridor, the man might reasonably 
 accuse her of spying. Incontinently she picked up 
 her skirts and ran. 
 
 The distance was n't as great as she had thought; 
 in a brief moment she was standing before the door 
 of the bedroom as though she had just come out 
 her gaze directed expectantly toward the small stair 
 case. 
 
 If she had anticipated a visit from her kidnapper, 
 however, she was pleasantly disappointed. Not a 
 sound came from below, aside from a dull and distant
 
 240 THE BANDBOX 
 
 thump and thud which went on steadily, if in synco 
 pated measure, and the source of which perplexed her. 
 
 At length she pulled herself together and warily 
 descended the staircase. It ended in what was largely 
 a counterpart of the hall above: as on the upper floor 
 broken by the mouth of a long corridor, but with a 
 door at its rear in place of the window upstairs. From 
 beyond the door came the thumping, thudding sound 
 that had puzzled Eleanor; but now she could distin 
 guish something more: a woman's voice crooning an 
 age-old melody. Then the pounding ceased, shuffling 
 footsteps were audible, and a soft clash of metal 
 upon metal : shuffle again, and again the intermittent, 
 deadened pounding. 
 
 Suddenly she understood, and understanding almost 
 smiled, in spite of her gnawing anxiety, to think that 
 she had been mystified so long by a noise of such 
 humble origin: merely that of a woman comfortably 
 engaged in the household task of ironing. It was 
 simple enough, once one thought of it; yet ridicu 
 lously incongruous when injected into the cognisance 
 of a girl whose brain was buzzing with the incredible 
 romance of her position. . . . 
 
 Without further ceremony she thrust open the door 
 at the end of the hallway. 
 
 There was disclosed a room of good size, evidently
 
 WRECK ISLAND 241 
 
 at one time a living-room, now converted to the com 
 bined offices of kitchen and dining-room. A large deal 
 table in the middle of the floor was covered with a 
 turkey-red cloth, with places set for four. On a small 
 range in the recess of what had once been an open 
 fireplace, sad-irons were heating side by side with sim 
 mering pots and a steaming tea-kettle. There was a 
 rich aroma of cooking in the air, somewhat tinctured 
 by the smell of melting wax, but in spite of that madly 
 appetising to the nostrils of a young woman made 
 suddenly aware that she had not eaten for some 
 sixteen hours. The furnishings of the room were sim 
 ple and characteristic of country kitchens including 
 even the figure of the sturdy woman placidly ironing 
 white things on a board near the open door. 
 
 She looked up quickly as Eleanor entered, stopped 
 her humming, smote the board vigorously with the 
 iron and set the latter on a metal rest. 
 
 "Evening," she said pleasantly, resting her hands 
 on her hips. 
 
 Eleanor stared dumbly, remembering that this was 
 the woman who had helped her to bed and had admin 
 istered what had presumably been a second sleeping 
 draught. 
 
 "Thought I heard you moving around upstairs. 
 How be you? Hungry? I Ve got a bite ready."
 
 242 THE BANDBOX 
 
 "I'd like a drink of water, please," said Eleanor 
 " plain water," she added with a significance that could 
 not have been overlooked by a guilty conscience. 
 
 But the woman seemed to sense no ulterior meaning. 
 "I'll fetch it," she said in a good-humoured voice, 
 going to the sink. 
 
 While she was manipulating the pump, the girl moved 
 nearer, frankly taking stock of her. The dim impres 
 sion retained from their meeting in the early morning 
 was merely emphasised by this second inspection; 
 the woman was built on generous lines big-boned, 
 heavy and apparently immensely strong. A contented 
 and easy-going humour shone from her broad, coarsely 
 featured countenance, oddly contending with a sug 
 gestion of implacable obstinacy and tenacious purpose. 
 
 "Here you are," she said presently, extending a 
 glass filmed with the breath of the ice-cold liquid it 
 contained. 
 
 "Thank you," said Eleanor; and drank thirstily. 
 "Who are you?" she demanded point blank, returning 
 the glass. 
 
 "Mrs. Clover," said the woman as bluntly, if with a 
 smiling mouth. 
 
 "Where am I?" 
 
 "Well" the woman turned to the stove and busied 
 herself with coffee-pot and frying-pan while she talked
 
 WRECK ISLAND 243 
 
 " this was the Wreck Island House oncet upon a 
 time. I calculate it 's that now, only it ain't run as a 
 hotel any more. It 's been years since there was any 
 summer folks come here place did n't pay, they said; 
 guess that 's why they shet it up and how your pa come 
 to buy it for a song." 
 
 "Where is the Wreck Island House, then?" Eleanor 
 put in. 
 
 "On Wreck Island, of course." 
 
 "And where is that?" 
 
 "In Long Island Sound, about a mile off J n the 
 Connecticut shore. Pennymint Centre's the nearest 
 village." 
 
 "That means nothing to me," said the girl. "How 
 far are we from New York?" 
 
 " I could n't rightly say ain't never been there. 
 But your pa says I heard him tell Eph once he 
 can make the run in his autymobile in an hour and a 
 half. That 's from Pennymint Centre, of course." 
 
 Eleanor pressed her hands to her temples, temporarily 
 dazed by the information. "Island," she repeated 
 "a mile from shore New York an hour and a half 
 away . . . !" 
 
 "Good, comfortable, tight little island," resumed 
 Mrs. Clover, pleased, it seemed, with the sound of her 
 own voice; "you'll like it when you come to get
 
 244 THE BANDBOX 
 
 acquainted. Just the very place for a girl with your 
 trouble." 
 
 "My trouble? What do you know about that? " 
 
 "Your pa told me, of course. Nervous prostration's 
 what he called it says as you need a rest with quiet 
 and nothing to disturb you plenty of good food and 
 sea air " 
 
 "Oh stop!" Eleanor begged frantically. 
 
 "Land!" said the woman in a kindly tone "I 
 might 've known I'd get on your poor nerves, talking 
 all the time. But I can't seem to help it, living here all 
 alone like I do with nobody but Eph most of the time. 
 . . . There!" she added with satisfaction, spearing 
 the last rasher of bacon from the frying-pan and 
 dropping it on a plate " now your breakfast 's 
 ready. Draw up a chair and eat hearty." 
 
 She put the plate on the red table-cloth, flanked 
 it with dishes containing soft-boiled eggs, bread and 
 butter and a pot of coffee of delicious savour, and 
 waved one muscular arm over it all with the gesture 
 of a benevolent sorceress. "Set to while it's hot, my 
 dear, and don't you be afraid; good food never hurt 
 nobody." 
 
 Momentarily, Eleanor entertained the thought of 
 mutinous refusal to eat, by way of lending emphasis to 
 her indignation; but hunger overcame the attractions
 
 WRECK ISLAND 245 
 
 of this dubious expedient; and besides, if she were to 
 accomplish anything toward regaining her freedom, 
 if it were no more than to register a violent protest, 
 she would need strength; and already she was weak 
 for want of food. 
 
 So she took her place and ate ate ravenously, 
 enjoying every mouthful even though her mind was 
 obsessed with doubts and fears and burning anger. 
 
 "You are the caretaker here?" she asked as soon 
 as her hunger was a little satisfied. 
 
 "Reckon you might call us that, me and Eph; we've 
 lived here for five years now, taking care of the island 
 ever since your pa bought it." 
 
 "Eph is your husband?" 
 
 "That 's him Ephraim Clover." 
 
 "And doesn't he do anything else but care- 
 take?" 
 
 "Lord bless you, he don't even do that; I 'm the 
 caretakerm. Eph don't do nothing but potter round 
 with the motor-boat and go to town for supplies and 
 fish a little and 'tend to the garden and do the chores 
 and" 
 
 " I should think he must keep pretty busy." 
 
 "Busy? Him? Eph? Lord! he 's the busiest thing 
 you ever laid your eyes on poking round doing 
 nothing at all."
 
 246 THE BANDBOX 
 
 "And does nobody ever come here . . . ? " 
 
 "Nobody but the boss." 
 
 "Does he often ?" 
 
 "That 's as may be and the fit 's on him. He comes 
 and goes, just as he feels like. Sometimes he 's on and 
 off the island half a dozen times a week, and again 
 we don't hear nothing of him for months; sometimes 
 he just stops here for days and mebbe weeks, and 
 again he's here one minute and gone the next. Jumps 
 round like a flea on a griddle, I say; you can't never 
 tell nothing about what he's going to do or where he'll 
 be next. . . . My land o' mercy, Mr. Searle ! What 
 a start you did give me!" 
 
 The man had succeeded in startling both women, as 
 a matter of fact. Eleanor, looking suddenly up from 
 her plate on hearing Mrs. Clover's cry of surprise, saw 
 him lounging carelessly in the hall doorway, where he 
 had appeared as noiselessly as a shadow. His sly, satiric 
 smile was twisting his thin lips, and a sardonic humour 
 glittered in the pale eyes that shifted from Eleanor's 
 face to Mrs. Clover's, and back again. 
 
 "I wish," he said, nodding to the caretaker, "you'd 
 slip down to the dock and tell Eph to have the boat 
 ready by seven o'clock." 
 
 "Yes, sir," assented Mrs. Clover hastily. She 
 crossed at once toward the outer door. From her
 
 WRECK ISLAND 247 
 
 tone and the alacrity with which she moved to do his 
 bidding, no less than from the half-cringing look with 
 which she met his regard, Eleanor had no difficulty 
 in divining her abject fear of this man whom 
 she could, apparently, have taken in her big hands 
 and broken in two without being annoyed by his 
 struggles. 
 
 "And, here!" he called after her "supper ready?" 
 
 "Yes, sir quite." 
 
 "Very well; I'll have mine. Eph can come up as 
 soon as he's finished overhauling the motor. Wait 
 a minute: tell him to be sure to bring the oars up with 
 him." 
 
 "Yes, sir, I will, sir." 
 
 Mrs. Clover dodged through the door and, running 
 down the pair of steps from the kitchen stoop to the 
 ground, vanished behind the house. 
 
 "Enjoying your breakfast, I trust?" 
 
 Eleanor pushed back her chair and rose. She feared 
 him, feared him as she might have feared any loathly, 
 venomous thing; but she was not in the least spiritu 
 ally afraid of him. Contempt and disgust only em 
 phasised the quality of her courage. She confronted 
 him without a tremor. 
 
 "Will you take me with you when you leave this 
 island tonight? " she demanded.
 
 248 THE BANDBOX 
 
 He shook his head with his derisive smile. She had 
 discounted that answer. 
 
 "How long do you mean to keep me here?" 
 
 "That depends on how agreeable you make your 
 self," he said obscurely. 
 
 "What do you mean?" 
 
 "Merely that . . . well, it 's a pleasant, salubrious 
 spot, Wreck Island. You '11 find it uncommonly health 
 ful and enjoyable, too, as soon as you get over the 
 loneliness. Not that you '11 be so terribly lonely; I 
 shall be here more or less, off and on, much of the 
 time for the next few weeks. I don't mind telling you, 
 in strict confidence, as between father and child, that 
 I 'm planning to pull off something pretty big before 
 long; of course it will need a bit of arranging in ad 
 vance to make everything run smoothly, and this is 
 ideal for a man of my retiring disposition, not overfond 
 of the espionage of his fellow-men. So, if you 're 
 docile and affectionate, we may see a great deal of 
 one another for some weeks as I said." 
 
 "And if not ?" 
 
 "Well" he waved his hands expressively "of 
 course, if you incline to be forward and disobedient, 
 then I shall be obliged to deny you the light of my 
 countenance, by way of punishment." 
 
 She shook her head impatiently. "I want to know
 
 WRECK ISLAND 
 
 when you will let me go," she insisted, struggling 
 against the oppression of her sense of helplessness. 
 
 "I really can't say." He pretended politely to sup 
 press a yawn, indicating that the subject bored him 
 inordinately. "If I could trust you " 
 
 "Can you expect that, after the way you treated 
 me last night this morning? " 
 
 "Ah, well!" he said, claw-like fingers stroking his 
 lips to conceal his smile of mockery. 
 
 "You lied to me, drugged me, robbed me of the 
 necklace, brought me here. . . . " 
 
 "Guilty," he said, yawning openly. 
 
 "Why? You could have taken the necklace from me 
 at the hotel. Why must you bring me here and keep 
 me prisoner ? " 
 
 " The pleasure of my only daughter's society. ..." 
 
 "Oh, you 're despicable!" she cried, furious. 
 
 He nodded thoughtfully, fumbling with his lips. 
 
 "Won't you tell me why?" she pleaded. 
 
 He shook his head. "You would n't understand/' 
 he added in a tone of maddening commiseration. 
 
 "I shan't stay!" she declared angrily. 
 
 "Oh, I think you will," he replied gently. 
 
 "I'll get away and inform on you if I have to 
 swim." 
 
 "It's a long, wet swim," he mused aloud "over
 
 250 THE BANDBOX 
 
 a mile, I should say. Have you ever swum over a 
 hundred yards in your life? " 
 
 She was silent, choking with rage. 
 
 "And furthermore," he went on, "there are the 
 Clovers. Excellent people, excellent for my purposes. 
 I have found them quite invaluable asking no 
 questions, minding their own business, keen to obey 
 my instructions to the letter. I have already in 
 structed them about you, my child. I trust you will 
 be careful not to provoke them; it 'd be a pity. . . 
 you 're rather good-looking, you know ..." 
 
 "What do you mean by that?" she stammered, a 
 little frightened by the secret menace in his tone. 
 "What have my looks to do with . . . ?" 
 
 "Everything," he said softly "everything. Not 
 so far as Ephraim is concerned; I '11 be frank with you 
 you needn't fear Ephraim 's hurting you, much, 
 should you attempt to escape. He will simply restrain 
 you, using force only if necessary. B ut Mrs. Clover . . . 
 she 's different. You must n't let her deceive you; she 
 seems kindly disposed enough; she 's pleasant spoken 
 but . . . well, she 's not fond of pretty women. It 's 
 an obsession of hers that prettiness and badness go 
 together. And Ephraim is fond of pretty women 
 very. You see?" 
 
 "Well?"
 
 WRECK ISLAND 251 
 
 "Well, that's why I have these people in so strong a 
 hold. You see, Ephraim got himself into trouble trying 
 to pull off one of those bungling, amateurish burglaries 
 that his kind go in for so extensively; he wanted the 
 money to buy things for a pretty woman. And he was 
 already a married man. You can see how Mrs. Clover 
 felt about it She ah cut up rather nasty. When 
 she got through with the other woman, no one would 
 have called her pretty any longer. Vitriol 's a dread 
 ful thing, ..." 
 
 He paused an instant, seeming to review the case 
 sombrely. "I managed to get them both off, scot 
 free; and that makes them loyal. But it would go 
 hard with anyone who tried to escape to the mainland 
 and tell on them to say nothing of me. . . . Mrs. 
 Clover has ever since been quite convinced of the virtue- 
 of vitriol. She keeps a supply handy most of the time, 
 in case of emergencies. And she sleeps lightly; don't 
 forget that. I hate to think of what she might do if 
 she thought you meant to run away and tell tales." 
 
 Slowly, step by step, guessing the way to the outer 
 door, the girl backed away from him, her face colour 
 less with horror. Very probably he was lying to 
 frighten her; very possibly (she feared desperately) he 
 was not. What she knew of him was hardly reassur 
 ing; the innate, callous depravity that had poisoned
 
 THE BANDBOX 
 
 this man beyond cure might well have caused the death- 
 in-life of other souls. What he was capable of, others 
 might be; and what she knew him to be capable of, 
 she hardly liked to dwell upon. Excusably she con 
 ceived her position more than desperate; and now her 
 sole instinct was to get away from him, if only for a 
 little time, out of the foetid atmosphere of his presence, 
 away from the envenomed irony of his voice away 
 and alone, where she could recollect her faculties and 
 again realise her ego, that inner self that she had tried 
 so hard to keep stainless, unspoiled and unafraid. 
 
 He watched her as she crept inch by inch toward 
 the door, his nervous fingers busy about his mouth 
 as if trying to erase that dangerous, evil smile. 
 
 "Before you go," he said suddenly, "I should tell 
 you that you will be alone with Mrs. Clover tonight. 
 I 'm going to town, and Ephraim 's to wait with the 
 boat at Pennymint Point, because I mean to return 
 before morning. But you needn't wait up for me; 
 Mrs. Clover will do that." 
 
 Eleanor made no reply. While he was speaking she 
 had gained the door. As she stepped out, Mrs. Clover 
 reappeared, making vigorously round the corner of 
 the house. 
 
 Passing Eleanor on the stoop, she gave her a busy, 
 friendly nod, and hurried in.
 
 WRECK ISLAND 253 
 
 "Eph '11 be up in half an hour," she heard her say. 
 "Shall I serve your supper now?" 
 
 "Please," he said quietly. 
 
 The girl stumbled down the steps and blindly fled 
 the sound of his voice.
 
 XIV 
 
 THE STRONG-BOX 
 
 HER initial rush carried Eleanor well round the 
 front of the building. Then, as suddenly as 
 she had started off, she stopped, common-sense re 
 asserting itself to assure her that there was nothing 
 to be gained by running until exhausted; her enemy 
 was not pursuing her. It was evident that she was to 
 be left to her own devices as long as they did not impel 
 her to attempt an escape as long as she made her 
 self supple to his will. 
 
 She stood for a long minute, very erect, head up and 
 shoulders back, eyes closed and lips taut, her hands 
 close-clenched at her sides. Then drawing a long 
 breath, she relaxed and, with a quiet composure ad 
 mirably self-enforced, moved on, setting herself to 
 explore and consider her surroundings. 
 
 The abandoned hotel faced the south, overlooking 
 the greater breadth of Long Island Sound. In it* 
 ra of prosperity, the land in front of it to the water'* 
 dge, and indeed for a considerable space on all sides* 
 
 54
 
 THE STRONG-BOX 255 
 
 had been clear laid out, no doubt, in grassy lawns, 
 croquet grounds and tennis courts; but in the long 
 years of its desuetude these had reverted to the prim 
 itive character of the main portion of the island, to a 
 tangle of undergrowth and shrubbery sprinkled with 
 scrub-oak and stunted pines. In one spot only, a 
 meagre kitchen-garden was under cultivation. 
 
 Southward, at the shore, a row of weather-beaten 
 and ramshackle bath-houses stood beside the rotting 
 remnants of a long dock whose piles, bereft of their 
 platform of planks, ran out into the water in a dreary 
 double rank. 
 
 Westward, a patch of woodland progenitor by 
 every characteristic of the tangle in the one-time 
 clearing shut off that extremity of the island where 
 it ran out into a sandy point. Eastward lay an exten 
 sive acreage of low, rounded sand dunes, held together 
 by rank beach-grass and bordered by a broad, slowly 
 shelving beach of sand and pebbles. To the north, 
 at the back of the hotel, stretched a waste of low 
 ground finally merging into a small salt-marsh. Across 
 this wandered a thin plank walk on stilts which, 
 over the clear water beyond the marsh, became a 
 rickety landing-stage. At some distance out from the 
 latter a long, slender, slate-coloured motor-boat rode 
 at its moorings, a rowboat swinging from its stern.
 
 256 THE BANDBOX 
 
 In the larger craft Eleanor could see the head and 
 shoulders of a man bending over the engine un 
 doubtedly Mr. Ephraim Clover. While she watched 
 him, he straightened up and, going to the stern of 
 the motor-boat, began to pull the dory in by its 
 painter. Having brought it alongside, he transshipped 
 himself awkwardly, then began to drive the dory in 
 to the dock. Eleanor remarked the fact that he stood 
 up to the task, propelling the boat by means of a 
 single oar, thrusting it into the water until it struck 
 bottom and then putting his weight upon it. The 
 water was evidently quite shallow; even where the 
 motor-boat lay moored, the oar disappeared no more 
 than half its length. 
 
 Presently, having gained the landing-stage, the man 
 clambered upon it, threw a couple of half-hitches in 
 the painter round one of the stakes, shouldered the oars 
 and began to shamble toward the hotel: a tall, un 
 gainly figure blackly silhouetted against the steel- 
 blue sky of evening. 
 
 Eleanor waited where she was, near the beginning 
 of the plank walk, to get a better look at him. In 
 time he passed her, with a shy nod and sidelong glance. 
 He seemed to be well past middle-age, of no preten 
 sions whatever to physical loveliness and (she would 
 have said) incurably lazy and stupid: his face dull
 
 THE STRONG-BOX 257 
 
 and heavy, his whole carriage eloquent of a nature of 
 sluggish shiftlessness. 
 
 He disappeared round the house, and a moment 
 later she heard Mrs. Clover haranguing him in a shrill 
 voice of impatience little resembling the tone she 
 had employed with the girl. 
 
 For an instant Eleanor dreamed wildly of running 
 down to the dock, throwing herself into the rowboat 
 and casting it off to drift whither it would. But the 
 folly of this was too readily apparent; even if she 
 might be sure that the tide would carry her away 
 from the island, the water w r as so shallow that a man 
 could wade out to the motor-boat, climb into it and 
 run her down with discouraging ease. As for the 
 motor-boat she had n't the least idea of the art of 
 running a motor; and besides, she would be over 
 hauled before she could get to it; for she made no 
 doubt whatever that she was being very closely 
 watched, and would be until the men had left the 
 island. After that ... a vista of days of grinding 
 loneliness and hopeless despair opened out before her 
 disheartened mental vision. 
 
 She resumed her aimless tour of inspection, little 
 caring whither she wandered so long as it was far from 
 the house, as far as possible from . . . him. 
 
 Sensibly the desolate spirit of the spot saturated
 
 258 THE BANDBOX 
 
 her mood. No case that she had ever heard of seemed 
 to her so desperate as that of the lonely, helpless girl 
 marooned upon this wave-bound patch of earth and 
 sand, cut off from all means of communication with 
 her kind, her destiny at the disposal of the maleficent 
 wretch who called himself her father, her sole compan 
 ions two alleged criminals whose depravity, if what 
 she had heard were true, was subordinate only to 
 his. 
 
 She could have wept, but would n't; the emotion 
 that oppressed her was not one that tears would soothe, 
 her plight not one that tears could mend. 
 
 Her sole comfort resided in the fact that she was 
 apparently to be let alone, free to wander at will within 
 the boundaries of the island. 
 
 Sunset found her on a little sandy hillock at the 
 western end of Wreck Island sitting with her chin 
 in her hands, and gazing seawards with eyes in which 
 rebellion smouldered. She would not give in, would 
 not abandon hope and accept the situation at its face 
 value, as irremediable. Upon this was she firmly 
 determined : the night was not to pass unmarked by 
 some manner of attempt to escape or summon aid. 
 She even found herself willing to consider arson as a 
 last resort: the hotel afire would make a famous torch 
 to bring assistance from the mainland. Only . . . she
 
 THE STRONG-BOX 259 
 
 shrank from the attempt, her soul curdling with ths 
 sinister menace of vitriol. 
 
 The day was dying in soft airs that swept the face 
 of the waters with a touch so light as to be barely per 
 ceptible. With sundown fell stark calm; the Sound 
 became a perfect mirror for the sombre conflagration 
 in the west. The slightest sounds reverberated afar 
 through the still, moveless void. She could hear Mrs. 
 Clover stridently counselling her Ephraim at the 
 house, the quarter of a mile away. Later, she heard 
 the hollow tramp of two pair of feet, one heavy and 
 one light, on the plank- walk; the creak of rowlocks 
 with the dip and splash of oars; and, after a little 
 pause, the sudden, sharp, explosive rattle of a motor 
 exhaust, as rapid, loud and staccato as the barking of 
 
 a Gatling, yet quickly hushed almost as soon as it 
 
 shattered the silences, muffled to a thick and steady 
 drumming. 
 
 Eleanor rose and turned to look northward. The 
 wood-lot hid from her sight both dock and mooring 
 and all but the gables of the hotel, as well but 
 she soon espied the motor-boat standing away on a 
 straight course for the mainland: driven at a speed 
 that seemed to her nearly incredible, a smother of 
 foam at its stern, long purple ripples widening away 
 from the jet of white water at the stem, a smooth, high
 
 260 THE BANDBOX 
 
 swell of dark water pursuing as if it meant to catch up 
 and overwhelm the b.oat and its occupants. These 
 latter occupied the extremes of the little vessel: Eph- 
 raim astern, beside the motor; the slighter figure at the 
 wheel in the bows. 
 
 Slowly the girl took her path back to the hotel, 
 watching the boat draw away, straight and swift of 
 flight as an arrow, momentarily dwindling and losing 
 definite form against the deepening blue-black surface 
 of the Sound. . . . 
 
 Weary and despondent, she ascended the pair of 
 steps to the kitchen porch. Mrs. Clover was busy 
 within, washing the supper dishes. She called out 
 a cheery greeting, to which Eleanor responded briefly 
 but with as pleasant a tone as she could muster. She 
 could not but distrust her companion and gaoler, 
 could not but fear that something vile and terrible 
 lurked beneath that good-natured semblance: else 
 why need the woman have become his creature? 
 
 "You ain't hungry again?" 
 
 "No," said Eleanor, lingering on the porch, reluctant 
 to enter. 
 
 "Lonely?" 
 
 "No. . . ." 
 
 "You needn't be; your pa '11 be home by three 
 o'clock, he says."
 
 THE STRONG-BOX 261 
 
 Eleanor said nothing. Abruptly a thought had 
 entered her mind, bringing hope; something she had 
 almost forgotten had recurred with tremendous 
 significance. 
 
 "Tired? I '11 go fix up your room soon 's I 'm done 
 here, if you want to lay down again." 
 
 "No; I'm in no hurry. I I think I'll go for 
 another little walk round the island." 
 
 "Help yourself," the woman called after her heartily; 
 " I '11 be busy for about half an hour, and then we 
 can take our chairs out on the porch and watch 
 the moon come up and have a real good, old-fashioned 
 gossip. . . . " 
 
 Eleanor lost the sound of her voice as she turned 
 swiftly back round the house. Then she stopped, 
 catching her breath with delight. It was true splen 
 didly true! The rowboat had been left behind. 
 
 It rode about twenty yards out from the end of the 
 dock, made fast to the motor-boat mooring. The 
 oars were in it; Ephraim had left them carelessly 
 disposed, their blades projecting a little beyond the 
 stern. And the water was so shallow at the mooring 
 that the man had been able to pole in with a 
 single oar, immersing it but half its length! An 
 oar, she surmised, was six feet long; that argued 
 an extreme depth of water of three feet say at the
 
 262 THE BANDBOX 
 
 worst three and a half. Surely she might dare to 
 wade out, unmoor the boat and climb in if but 
 opportunity were granted her! 
 
 But her heart sank as she considered the odds against 
 any such attempt. If only the night were to be dark; 
 if only Mrs. Clover were not to wait up for her hus 
 band and her employer; if only the woman were not 
 her superior physically, so strong that Eleanor would 
 be like a child in her hands; if only there were not 
 that awful threat of vitriol . . . ! 
 
 Nevertheless, in the face of these frightful deterrents, 
 she steeled her resolution. Whatever the consequences, 
 she owed it to herself to be vigilant for her chance. 
 She promised herself to be wakeful and watchful: 
 possibly Mrs. Clover might nap while sitting up; and 
 the girl had two avenues by which to leave the house: 
 either through the kitchen, or by the front door to 
 the disused portion of the hotel. She need only 
 steal noiselessly along the corridor from her bedroom 
 door and down the broad main staircase and the 
 front door was not even locked. She remembered 
 distinctly that he had simply pulled it to. Still, it 
 would be well to make certain he had not gone back 
 later to lock it. 
 
 Strolling idly, with a casual air of utter ennui 
 assumed for the benefit of her gaoler in event she
 
 THE STRONG-BOX 263 
 
 should become inquisitive Eleanor went round the 
 eastern end of the building to the front. Here a broad 
 veranda ran from wing to wing; its rotting weather- 
 eaten floor fenced in by a dilapidated railing save 
 where steps led up to the front door; its roof caved in 
 at one spot, wearing a sorry look of baldness in others 
 where whole tiers of shingles had fallen away. 
 
 Cautiously Eleanor mounted the rickety steps and 
 crossed to the doors. To her delight, they opened 
 readily to a turn of the knob. She stood for a trifle, 
 hesitant, peering into the hallway now dark with 
 evening shadow; then curiosity overbore her reluc 
 tance. There was nothing to fear; the voice of Mrs. 
 Clover singing over her dishpan in the kitchen came 
 clearly through the ground-floor corridor, advertising 
 plainly her preoccupation. And Eleanor wanted des 
 perately to know what it was that the man had hidden 
 in the socket of the newel-post. 
 
 Shutting the door she felt her way step by step 
 to the foot of the staircase. Happily the floor was 
 sound : no creaking betrayed her progress there 
 would be none when in the dead of night she would 
 break for freedom. 
 
 Mrs. Clover continued to sing contentedly. 
 
 Eleanor removed the knob of the post and looked 
 down into the socket. It was dark in there; she could
 
 264 THE BANDBOX 
 
 see nothing; so she inserted her hand and groped until 
 her fingers closed upon a thick rough bar of metal. 
 Removing this, she found she held a cumbersome 
 old-fashioned iron key of curious design. 
 
 It puzzled her a little until she recalled the clang 
 of metal that had prefaced the man's appearance in 
 the hall that afternoon. This then, she inferred, would 
 be the key to his private cache the secret spot where 
 he hid his loot between forays. 
 
 Mrs. Clover stopped singing suddenly, and the girl 
 in panic returned the key to its hiding place, the knob 
 to its socket. 
 
 But it had been a false alarm. In another moment 
 the woman's voice was again upraised. 
 
 Eleanor considered, staring about her. He had come 
 into sight from beneath the staircase. She recon 
 noitred stealthily in that direction, and discovered 
 a portion of the hall fenced off by a railing and counter: 
 evidently the erstwhile hotel office. A door stood open 
 behind the counter. With some slight qualms she 
 passed into the enclosure and then through the door. 
 
 She found herself in a small, stuffy, dark room. Its 
 single window, looking northwards, was closely shut 
 tered on the outside; only a feeble twilight filtered 
 through the slanted slats. But there was light enough 
 for Eleanor to recognise the contours and masses of a
 
 THE STRONG-BOX 265 
 
 flat-topped desk with two pedestals of drawers, a re 
 volving chair with cane seat and back, a brown paper- 
 pulp cuspidor of generous proportions and a huge, 
 solid, antiquated iron safe: a "strong-box" of the last 
 century's middle decades, substantial as a rock, tre 
 mendously heavy, contemptuously innocent of any such 
 innovations as combination-dials, tune-locks and the 
 like. A single keyhole, almost large enough to admit 
 a child's hand, and certainly calculated to admit the 
 key in the newel-post, demonstrated that this safe de 
 pended for the security of its contents upon nothing 
 more than its massive construction and unwieldy lock. 
 It demonstrated something more: that its owner 
 based his confidence upon its isolation and the loyalty 
 of his employees, or else had satisfied himself through 
 practical experiment that one safe was as good as 
 another, ancient or modern, when subjected to the test 
 of modern methods of burglary. 
 
 And (Eleanor was sure) the Cadogan collar was 
 there; unless, of course, the man had taken it away with 
 him; which didn't seem likely, all things considered. 
 A great part of the immense value of the necklace 
 resided in its perfection, in its integrity; as a whole 
 it w T ould be an exceedingly difficult thing to dispose 
 of until long after the furore aroused by its disappear 
 ance had died down; broken up, its marvellously
 
 266 THE BANDBOX 
 
 matched pearls separated and sold one by one, it would 
 not realise a third of its worth. 
 
 And the girl would have known the truth in five 
 minutes more (she was, in fact, already moving 
 back toward the newel-post) had not Mrs. Clover 
 chosen that moment to leave the kitchen and tramp 
 noisily down the corridor. 
 
 What her business might be in that part of the 
 house Eleanor could not imagine unless it were 
 connected with herself, unless she had heard some 
 sound and was coming to investigate. 
 
 In panic terror, Eleanor turned back into the little 
 room and crouched down behind the safe, making 
 herself as small as possible, actually holding her breath 
 for fear it would betray her. 
 
 Nearer came that steady, unhurried tread, and 
 nearer. The girl thought her heart would burst with 
 its burden of suspense. She was obliged to gasp for 
 breath, and the noise of it rang as loudly and hoarsely 
 in her hearing as the exhaust of a steam-engine. She 
 pressed a handkerchief against her trembling lips. 
 
 Directly to the counter came the footsteps, and 
 paused. There was the thump of something being 
 placed upon the shelf. Then deliberately the woman 
 turned and marched back to her quarters. 
 
 In time the girl managed to regain enough con-
 
 THE STRONG-BOX 267 
 
 trol of her nerves to enable her to rise and creep 
 out through the office enclosure to the hall. Mrs. 
 Clover had resumed her chanting in the kitchen; but 
 Eleanor was in no mood to run further chances just 
 then. She needed to get away, to find tune to compose 
 herself thoroughly. Pausing only long enough to see 
 for herself what the woman had deposited on the 
 counter (it was a common oil lamp, newly filled and 
 trimmed, with a box of matches beside it: preparations, 
 presumably, against the home-coming of the master 
 with a fresh consignment of booty) she flitted swiftly 
 to and through the door, closed it and ran down 
 the steps to the honest, kindly earth. 
 
 Here she was safe. None suspected her adventure or 
 her discovery. She quieted from her excitement, and 
 for a long tune paced slowly to and fro, pondering ways 
 and means. 
 
 The fire ebbed from the heart of the western sky; 
 twilight merged imperceptibly into a night extraor 
 dinarily clear and luminous with the gentle radiance 
 of a wonderful pageant of stars. The calm held un 
 broken. The barking of a dog on the mainland carried, 
 thin but sharp, across the waters. On the Sound, 
 lights moved sedately east and west: red lights and 
 green and white lancing the waters with long quivering 
 blades. At times the girl heard voices of men talking
 
 268 THE BANDBOX 
 
 at a great distance. Once a passenger steamer crept 
 out of the west, seeming to quicken its pace as it drew 
 abreast the island, then swept on and away like a 
 floating palace of fairy lamps. As it passed, the strains 
 of its string orchestra sounded softly clear through the 
 night. Other steamers followed hah a dozen in a 
 widely spaced procession. But no boat came near 
 Wreck Island. If one had, Eleanor could almost have 
 found courage to call for help. . . . 
 
 In due time Mrs. Clover hunted her up, bringing 
 a lantern to guide her heavy footsteps. 
 
 "Lands sakes!" she cried, catching sight of the girl. 
 41 Wherever have you been all this time?" 
 
 "Just walking up and down," said Eleanor quietly. 
 
 "Thank goodness I found you," the woman panted. 
 " Give me quite a turn, you did. 7 did n't know but 
 what you might be trying some foolish idea about 
 leaving us, like your pa said you might. One never 
 knows when to trust you nervous prostrationists, or 
 what you '11 be up to next." 
 
 Eleanor glanced at her sharply, wondering if by any 
 chance the woman's mind could be as guileless as her 
 words or the bland and childish simplicity of her eyes 
 in the lantern-light. 
 
 "Wish you 'd come up on the stoop and keep 
 me company," continued Mrs. Clover; " I 'm plumb
 
 THE STRONG-BOX 269 
 
 tired ef sitting round all alone. Moon '11 be up befere 
 long; it 's a purty sight, shining on the water." 
 
 "Thank you," said Eleanor; "I 'm afraid I 'm too- 
 tired. It must be later than I thought. If you don't 
 mind I '11 go to my room/' 
 
 "Oh, please yourself," said the woman, disappoint 
 ment lending her tone an unpleasant edge. " You '11 
 find it hot and stuffy up there, though. If you can't 
 get comfortable, come down-stairs; I '11 be up till the 
 boss gets home." 
 
 "Very well," said Eleanor. 
 
 She said good night to Mrs. Clover on the kitchen- 
 porch and going to her room, threw herself upon the 
 bed, dressed as she was. 
 
 For some time the woman down-stairs rocked slowly 
 on the porch, humming sonorously. The sound was 
 infinitely soothing. Eleanor had some difficulty in 
 keeping awake, and only managed to do so by dint of 
 continually exciting her imagination with thoughts of 
 the Cadogan collar in the safe, the key in the newel- 
 post, the dory swinging at its moorings in water little 
 more than waist-deep. . . . 
 
 In spite of all this, she did as the slow hours lagged 
 drift into a half-waking nap. How long it lasted she 
 could n't guess when she wakened; but it had not been 
 too long; a glance at the dial of her wrist-watch in
 
 270 THE BANDBOX 
 
 a slant of moonlight through the window reassured 
 her as to the flight of time. It was nearly midnight; 
 she had three hours left, three hours leeway before 
 the return of her persecutor. 
 
 She lay without moving, listening attentively. The 
 house was anything but still; ghosts of forgotten foot 
 steps haunted all its stairs and corridors; but the girl 
 could hear no sound ascribable to human agency. Mrs. 
 Clover no longer sang, her rocking-chair no longer 
 creaked. 
 
 With infinite precautions she got up and slipped out 
 of the room. Once in the hallway she did hear a noise 
 of which she easily guessed the source; and the choir 
 ing of angels could have been no more sweet in her 
 hearing : Mrs. Clover was snoring. 
 
 Kneeling at the head of the staircase and bending 
 over, with an arm round the banister for support, she 
 could see a portion of the kitchen. And what she 
 saw only confirmed the testimony of the snores. The 
 woman had moved indoors to read; an oil lamp stood 
 by her shoulder, on the table; her chair was well tilted, 
 her head resting against its back; an old magazine 
 lay open on her lap; her chin had fallen; from her 
 mouth issued dissonant chords of contentment. 
 
 Eleanor drew back, rose and felt her way to the 
 long corridor. Down this she stole as silently as any
 
 THE STRONG-BOX 271 
 
 ghost, wholly indifferent to the eerie influences of the 
 desolate place, spectrally illuminated as it was with 
 faded chequers of moonlight falling through dingy win 
 dows, alive as it was with the groans and complaints 
 of uneasy planks and timbers and the frou-frou, like 
 that of silken skirts, of rats and mice scuttling between 
 its flimsy walls. These counted for nothing to her; 
 but all her soul hung on the continuance of that noise 
 of snoring in the kitchen; and time and again she 
 paused and listened, breathless, until sure it was holding 
 on without interruption. 
 
 Gaining at length the head of the stairs, she picked 
 her way down very gently, her heart thumping madly 
 as the burden of her weight wrung from each individual 
 step its personal protest, loud enough (she felt) to 
 wake the dead in their graves; but not loud enough, 
 it seemed, to disturb the slumbers of the excellent, if 
 untrustworthy, Mrs. Clover. 
 
 At length she had gained the newel-post and ab 
 stracted the key. The foretaste of success was sweet. 
 Pausing only long enough to unlatch the front door, 
 for escape in emergency, she darted through the hall, 
 behind the counter, into the little room. 
 
 And still Mrs. Clover slept aloud. 
 
 Kneeling, Eleanor fitted the key to the lock. Happily, 
 it was well oiled and in excellent working order. The
 
 THE BANDBOX 
 
 tumblers gave to the insistence of the wards with the 
 softest of dull clicks. She grasped the handle, and 
 the heavy door swung wide without a murmur. 
 
 And then she paused, at a loss. It was densely dark 
 in the little room, and she required to be able to see 
 what she was about, if she were to pick out the Cadogan 
 collar. 
 
 It was risky, a hazardous chance, but she determined 
 to run it. The lamp that Mrs. Clover had left for her 
 employer was too convenient to be rejected. Eleanor 
 brought it into the room, carefully shut the door to 
 prevent the light being visible from the hall, should 
 Mrs. Clover wake and miss her, placed the lamp on 
 the floor before the safe and lighted it. 
 
 As its soft illumination disclosed the interior of the 
 antiquated strong-box, the girl uttered a low cry of 
 dismay. To pick out what she sought from that ac 
 cumulation (even if it were really there) would be the 
 work of hours barring a most happy and unlikely 
 stroke of fortune. 
 
 The interior of the safe was divided into some twelve 
 pigeon-holes, all closely packed with parcels of vari 
 ous sizes brown-paper parcels, neatly wrapped and 
 tied with cord, each as neatly labelled in ink with 
 an indecipherable hieroglyphic: presumably a means 
 of identification to one intimate with the code,
 
 She turned in time to see the door open and the face and 
 figure of her father 
 
 Page 274
 
 THE STRONG-BOX 273 
 
 But Eleanor possessed no means of telling one package 
 from another; they were all so similar to one another 
 in everything save size, in which they differed only 
 slightly, hardly materially. 
 
 None the less, having dared so much, she wasn't 
 of the stuff to give up the attempt without at least a 
 little effort to find what she sought. And impulsively 
 she selected the first package that fell under her hand, 
 with nervous fingers unwrapped it and found her 
 self admiring an extremely handsome diamond brooch. 
 
 As if it had been a handful of pebbles, she cast it 
 from her to blaze despised upon the mean plank flooring, 
 and selected another package. 
 
 It contained rings three gold rings set with soli 
 taire diamonds. They shared the fate of the brooch. 
 
 The next packet held a watch. This, too, she dropped 
 contemptuously, hurrying on. 
 
 She had no method, other than to take the upper 
 most packets from each pigeonhole, on the theory 
 that the necklace had been one of the last articles 
 entrusted to the safe. And that there was some sense 
 in this method was demonstrated when she opened the 
 ninth package or possibly the twelfth: she was too 
 busy and excited to keep any sort of count. 
 
 This last packet, however, revealed the Cadogan 
 collar.
 
 274 THE BANDBOX 
 
 With a little, thankful sigh the girl secreted the thing 
 in the bosom of her dress and prepared to rise. 
 
 Behind her a board creaked and the doorlatch 
 clicked. Still sitting heart in her mouth, breath at 
 a standstill, blood chilling with fright she turned in 
 time to see the door open and the face and figure of 
 her father as he stood looking down at her, his eyes 
 blinking in the glare of light that painted a gleam 
 along the polished barrel of the weapon in his hand.
 
 XV 
 
 THE ENEMY'S HAND 
 
 IN spite of the somewhat abrupt and cavalier fash 
 ion in which Staff had parted from Alison at 
 the St. Simon, he was obliged to meet her again that 
 afternoon at the offices of Jules Max, to discuss and 
 select the cast for A Single Woman. The memory which 
 each retained of their earlier meeting naturally rankled, 
 and the amenities suffered proportionately. In jus 
 tice to Staff it must be set down that he was n't the 
 aggressor; his contract with Max stipulated that he 
 should have the deciding word in the selection of the 
 cast aside from the leading role, of course and 
 when Alison chose, as she invariably did, to try to 
 usurp that function, the author merely stood calmly 
 and with imperturbable courtesy upon his rights. In 
 consequence, it was Alison who made the conference 
 so stormy a one that Max more than once threatened 
 to tear his hair, and as a matter of fact did make futile 
 grabs at the meagre fringe surrounding his bald spot. 
 So the meeting inevitably ended in an armed truce, 
 
 275
 
 276 THE BANDBOX 
 
 with no business accomplished: Staff offering to re 
 lease Max from his contract to produce, the manager 
 frantically begging hi to do nothing of the sort, and 
 Alison making vague but disquieting remarks about 
 her inclination to "rest." . . . 
 
 Staff dined alone, with disgust of his trade for a 
 sauce to his food. And, being a man which is as 
 much as to say, a creature without much real under 
 standing of his own private emotional existence he 
 wagged his head in solemn amazement because he 
 had once thought he could love a woman like that. 
 
 Now Eleanor Searle was a different sort of a girl 
 altogether. . . . - 
 
 Not that he had any right to think of her in that 
 light; only, Alison had chosen to seem jealous of the 
 girl. Heaven alone (he called it honestly to witness) 
 knew why. . . . 
 
 Not that he cared whether Alison were jealous or 
 not. . . . 
 
 But he was surprised at his solicitude for Miss Searle 
 now that Alison had made him think of her. He 
 was really more anxious about her than he had sus 
 pected. She had seemed to like him, the few times 
 they'd met; and he had liked her very well indeed; 
 it 's refreshing to meet a woman in whom beauty and 
 sensibility are combined; the combination's piquant,
 
 THE ENEMY'S HAND 277 
 
 when you come to consider how uncommon it 
 is. ... 
 
 He did n't believe for an instant that she had meant 
 to run away with the Cadogan collar; and he hoped 
 fervently that she had n't been involved in any serious 
 trouble by the qualified thing. Furthermore, he can 
 didly wished he might be permitted to help extricate 
 her, if she were really tangled up in any unpleasantness. 
 
 Such, at all events, was the general tone of his medi 
 tations throughout dinner and his homeward stroll 
 down Fifth Avenue from Forty-fourth Street, a stroll 
 in which he cast himself for the part of the misprized 
 hero; and made himself look it to the life by sticking his 
 hands in his pockets, carrying his cane at a despondent 
 angle beneath one arm, resting his chin on his chest 
 or as nearly there as was practicable if he cared to 
 escape being strangled by his collar and permitting 
 a cigarette to dangle dejectedly from his lips. . . . 
 
 He arrived in front of his lodgings at nine o'clock 
 or something later. And as he started up the brown- 
 stone stoop he became aware of a disconsolate little 
 figure hunched up on the topmost step; which was 
 Mr. Iff. 
 
 The little man had his chin in his hands and his hat 
 pulled down over his eyes. He rose as Staff came up 
 the steps and gave him good evening in a spiritless
 
 278 THE BANDBOX 
 
 tone which he promptly remedied by the acid 
 observation: 
 
 " It 's a pity you would n't try to be home when I 
 call. Here you've kept me waiting the best part of 
 an hour." 
 
 "Sorry," said Staff gravely; "but why stand on 
 ceremony at this late day? My bedroom windows are 
 still open; I left 'em so, fancying you might prefer to 
 come in that way." 
 
 " It 's a pity," commented Iff, following him upstairs, 
 "you can't do something for that oratorical weakness 
 of yours. Ever try choking it down? Or would that 
 make you ill?" 
 
 With which he seemed content to abandon persi 
 flage, satisfied that his average for acerbity was still 
 high. "Besides," he said peaceably, "I'm all dressed 
 up pretty now, and it does n't look right for a respec 
 table member of society to be pulling off second-story 
 man stunts." 
 
 Staff led him into the study, turned on the lights, 
 then looked his guest over. 
 
 So far as his person was involved, it was evident that 
 Iff had employed Staff's American money to advantage. 
 He wore, with the look of one fresh from thorough 
 grooming at a Turkish bath, a new suit of dark clothes. 
 But when he had thrown aside his soft felt hat, his face
 
 THE ENEMY'S HAND 279 
 
 showed drawn, pinched and haggard, the face of a man 
 whose sufferings are of the spirit rather than of the body. 
 Loss of sleep might have accounted in part for that 
 expression, but not for all of it. 
 
 "What's the matter?" demanded Staff, deeply 
 concerned. 
 
 "You ask me that!" said Iff impatiently. He threw 
 himself at length upon the divan. "Have n't you been 
 to the St. Simon? Don't you know what has happened? 
 Well, so have I, and so do I." 
 
 "Well . . . ?" 
 
 Iff raised himself on his elbow to stare at Staff as 
 if questioning his sanity. 
 
 "You know she 's gone that she 's in his hands 
 and you have the face to stand there and say 'Wel-l?' 
 to me!" he snapped. 
 
 " But good Lord, man ! what is Miss Searle to 
 you that you should get so excited about her disap 
 pearance, even assuming what we 're not sure of 
 that she decamped with Ismay?" 
 
 "She's only everything to me," said Iff quietly: 
 "she 's my daughter." 
 
 Staff slumped suddenly into a chair. 
 
 "You 're serious about that?" he gasped. 
 
 " It 's not a matter I care to joke about," said the 
 little man gloomily.
 
 280 THE BANDBOX 
 
 "But why did n't you tell a fellow . . . 1" 
 
 "Why should I until now? You mustn't forget 
 that you sat in this room not twenty-four hours ago 
 and listened to me retail what I admit sounded like the 
 damnedest farrago of lies that was ever invented since 
 the world began; and because you were a good fellow 
 and a gentleman, you stood for it gave me the benefit 
 of the doubt. And at that I hadn't told you half. 
 Why? Why, because I felt I had put sufficient strain 
 upon your credulity for one session at least." 
 
 "Yes I know," Staff agreed, bewildered; "but 
 but Miss Searle your daughter ! " 
 
 "That's a hard one for you to swallow what? 
 
 I don't blame you. But it 's true. And that 's why 
 I 'm all worked up half crazed by my knowledge that 
 that infamous blackguard has managed to deceive her 
 and make her believe he is me myself her father." 
 
 "But what makes you think that?" 
 
 " Oh, I Ve his word for it. Read ! " 
 
 Iff whipped an envelope from his pocket and flipped 
 it over to Staff. "He knew, of course, where I get 
 my letters when in town, and took a chance of that 
 catching me there and poisoning the sunlight for 
 me." 
 
 Staff turned the envelope over in his hands, remark 
 ing the name, address, postmark and special delivery
 
 stamp. "Mailed at Hartford, Connecticut, at nine 
 this morning," he commented. 
 
 "Read it/' insisted Iff irritably. 
 
 Staff withdrew the enclosure : a single sheet of note- 
 paper with a few words scrawled on one side. 
 
 " ' I 've got her, ' " he read aloud. " ' She thinks I 'm 
 you. Is this sufficient warning to you to keep out of 
 this game? If not you know what to expect." 
 
 He looked from the note back to Iff. "What does 
 he mean by that? " 
 
 "How can I tell? It 's a threat, and that 's enough 
 for me; he 's capable of anything fiendish enough to 
 amuse him." He shook his clenched fists impotently 
 above his head. " Oh, if ever again I get within arm's 
 length of the hound . . . !" 
 
 "Look here," said Staff; "I'm a good deal in the 
 dark about this business. You Ve got to calm your 
 self and help me out. Now* you say Miss Searle 's 
 your daughter; yet you were on the ship together and 
 did n't recognise one another at least, so far as I 
 could see." 
 
 "You don't see everything," said Iff; "but at that, 
 you 're right she did n't recognise me. She has n't 
 for years seven years, to be exact. It was seven 
 years ago that she ran away from me and changed her 
 name. And it was all his doing! I 've told you that
 
 282 THE BANDBOX 
 
 Ismay has, in his jocular way, made a practice of cast 
 ing suspicion on me. Well, the thing got so bad that 
 he made her believe I was the criminal in the family. 
 So, being the right sort of a girl, she could n't live with 
 me any longer and she just naturally shook me 
 went to Paris to study singing and fit herself to earn a 
 living. I followed her, pleaded with her, but she 
 could n't be made to understand; so I had to give it 
 up. And that was when I registered my oath to 
 follow this cur to the four corners of the earth, if need 
 be, and wait my chance to trip him up, expose him 
 and clear myself. And now he 's finding the going a 
 bit rough, thanks to my public-spirited endeavours, 
 and he takes this means of tying my hands!" 
 
 "I should think," said Staff, "you'd have shot 
 him long before this." 
 
 "Precisely," agreed Iff mockingly. "That's just 
 where the bone-headedness comes in that so endears 
 you to your friends. If I killed him, where would be 
 my chance to prove I had n't been guilty of the crimes 
 he 's laid at my door? He 's realised that, all along. . . . 
 I passed him on deck one night, coming over; it was 
 midnight and we were alone; the temptation to lay 
 hands on him and drop him overboard was almost 
 irresistible and he knew it and laughed in my face! 
 . . . And that 's the true reason why I did n't accuse
 
 THE ENEMY'S HAND 283 
 
 him when I was charged with the theft of the necklace 
 because I could n't prove anything and a trumped- 
 up accusation that fell through would only make my 
 case the worse in Nelly's sight. . . . But I '11 get 
 him yet!" 
 
 "Have you thought of going to Hartford?" 
 
 "I'm no such fool. If that letter was posted in 
 Hartford this morning, it means that Ismay's in Phila 
 delphia." 
 
 " But is n't he wise enough to know you 'd think 
 just that?" 
 
 Iff sat up with a flush of excitement. "By George!" 
 he cried "there 's something in that!" 
 
 " It 's a chance," said Staff thoughtfully. 
 
 The little man jumped up and began to pace the 
 floor. To and fro, from the hall-door to the windows, 
 he strode. At perhaps the seventh turn at the windows 
 he paused, looking out, then moved quickly back to 
 Staff's side. 
 
 "Taxicab stopping outside," he said in a low 
 voice: "woman getting out Miss Landis, I think. 
 If you don't mind, I '11 dodge into your bed 
 room." 
 
 "By all means," assented his host, rising. 
 
 Iff swung out of sight into the back room as Staff 
 went to and opened the hall-door.
 
 284 
 
 Alison had just gained the head of the stairs. She 
 came to the study door, moving with her indolent 
 grace, acknowledging his greeting with an insolent, 
 cool nod. 
 
 "Not too late, I trust?" she said enigmatically. 
 
 "For what?" asked Staff, puzzled. 
 
 "For this appointment," she said, extending a 
 folded bit of paper. 
 
 "Appointment?" he repeated with the rising in 
 flection, taking the paper. 
 
 "It was delivered at my hotel half an hour ago," 
 she told him. "I presumed you ..." 
 
 "No," said Staff. "Half a minute. ..." 
 
 He shut the door and unfolded the note. The paper 
 and the chirography, he noticed, were identical with 
 those of the note received by Iff from Hartford. With 
 this settled to his satisfaction, he read the contents 
 aloud, raising his voice a trifle for the benefit of the 
 listener in the back room. 
 
 " ' If Miss Landis wishes to arrange for the return of 
 the Cadogan collar, will she be kind enough to call at 
 Mr. Staff's rooms in Thirtieth Street at a quarter to ten 
 tonight. 
 
 " ' N. B. Any attempt to bring the police or private 
 detectives or other outsiders into the negotiations will be 
 instantly known to the writer and there won't be any 
 party.'
 
 THE ENEMY'S HAND 285 
 
 " Unsigned," said Staff reflectively. 
 
 "Well?" demanded Alison, seating herself. 
 
 "Curious," remarked Staff, still thinking. 
 
 "Well?" she iterated less patiently. "Is it a practi 
 cal joke?" 
 
 "No," he said, smiling; "to me it looks like 
 business." 
 
 " You mean that the thief intends to come here 
 to bargain with me? " 
 
 "I should fancy so, from what he says. . . . And," 
 Staff added, crossing to his desk, "forewarned is fore 
 armed." 
 
 He bent over and pulled out the drawer containing 
 his revolver. At the same moment he heard Alison 
 catch her breath sharply, and a man's voice replied 
 to his platitude. 
 
 "Not always," it said crisply. "Be good enough to 
 leave that gun lay just hold up your hands, where 
 I can see them, and come away from that desk." 
 
 Staff laughed shortly and swung smartly round, 
 exposing empty hands. In the brief instant in which 
 his back had been turned a man had let himself into 
 the study from the hall. He stood now with his 
 back to the door, covering Staff with an automatic 
 pistol. 
 
 "Come away," he said in a peremptory tone, em-
 
 86 THE BANDBOX 
 
 phasising his meaning with a flourish of the weapon. 
 "Over here by Miss Landis, if you please." 
 
 Quietly Staff obeyed. He had knocked about the 
 world long enough to recognise the tone of a man 
 talking business with a gun. He placed himself beside 
 Alison's chair and waited, wondering. 
 
 Indeed, he was very much perplexed and disturbed. 
 For the first time since Iff had won his confidence 
 against his better judgment, his faith in the little man 
 was being shaken. This high-handed intruder was so 
 close a counterpart of Mr. Iff that one had to look twice 
 to distinguish the difference, and then found the points 
 of variance negligible so much so that the fellow 
 might well be Iff in different clothing and another 
 manner. And Iff could easily have slipped out of the 
 bedroom by its hall door. Only, to shift his clothes 
 so quickly he would have to be a lightning-change 
 artist of exceptional ability. 
 
 On the whole, Staff decided, this could n't be Iff. 
 And yet . . . and yet . . . 
 
 "You may put up that pistol," he said coolly. " I'm 
 not going to jump you, so it 's unnecessary. Besides, 
 it 's bad form with a lady present. And finally, if you 
 should happen to let it off the racket would bring 
 the police down on you more quickly than you 'd like, 
 I fancy."
 
 THE ENEMY'S HAND 287 
 
 The man grinned and shoved the weapon into a 
 pocket from which its grip projected handily. 
 
 "Something in what you say," he assented. "Be 
 sides, I 'm quick, surprisingly quick with my hands." 
 
 "Part of your professional equipment, no doubt," 
 commented Staff indifferently. 
 
 "Admit it," said the other easily. He turned his 
 attention to Alison. "Well, Miss Landis . . . ?" 
 
 "Well, Mr. Iff?" she returned in the same tone. 
 
 "No," he corrected; "not Iff Ismay." 
 
 "So you've changed identities again!" 
 
 "Surely you don't mind?" he said, grinning over 
 the evasion. 
 
 "But you denied being Ismay aboard the Autocratic." 
 
 "My dear lady, you could n't reasonably expect 
 me to plead guilty to a crime which I had not yet 
 committed. " 
 
 "Oh, get down to business!" Staff interrupted 
 impatiently. "You're wasting time yours as well 
 as ours." 
 
 "Peevish person, your young friend," Ismay com 
 mented confidentially to Alison. " Still, there 's some 
 thing in what he says. Shall we ah begin to 
 negotiate?" 
 
 "I think you may as well," she agreed coldly. 
 
 "Very well, then. The case is simple enough. I 'm
 
 288 THE BANDBOX 
 
 here to offer to secure the return of the Cadogan collar 
 for an appropriate reward." 
 
 "Ten thousand dollars has been offered," she began. 
 
 "Not half enough, my dear lady," he interposed. 
 "You insult the necklace by naming such a meagre 
 sum to say nothing of undervaluing my intelligence." 
 
 "So that 's it!" she said reflectively. 
 
 "That is it, precisely. I am in communication with 
 the person who stole your necklace; she 's willing to 
 return it for a reward of reasonable size." 
 
 "She? You mean Miss Searle?" 
 
 The man made a deprecating gesture. "Please 
 don't ask me to name the lady. ..." 
 
 "I knew it!" Alison cried triumphantly. 
 
 "You puppy!" Staff exclaimed. "Have n't you the 
 common manhood to shoulder the responsibility for 
 your crimes yourself? " 
 
 "Tush," said the man gently "tush! Not a 
 pretty way to talk at all calling names! I 'm sur 
 prised. Besides, I ought to know better than you, 
 acting as I do as agent for the lady in question." 
 
 "That 's a flat lie," said Staff. "If you repeat it 
 I warn you I '11 jump you as sure 's my name 's 
 Staff, pistol or no pistol!" 
 
 "Are n't you rather excited in your defence of this 
 woman?" Alison turned on him with a curling lip.
 
 THE ENEMY'S HAND 289 
 
 "I Ve a right to my emotions," he retorted "to 
 betray them as I see fit." 
 
 "And I," Ismay put it, "to my freedom of 
 speech " 
 
 "Not in my rooms," Staff interrupted hotly. "I Ve 
 warned you. Drop this nonsense about Miss Searle 
 if you want to stop here another minute without a 
 fight. Drop it! Say what you want to say to Miss 
 Landis and get out!" 
 
 He was thoroughly enraged, and his manner of 
 expressing himself seemed to convince the thief. With 
 a slight shrug of his shoulders he again addressed 
 himself directly to Alison. 
 
 "In the matter of the reward," he said, "we're 
 of the opinion that you Ve offered too little by half. 
 Twenty thousand at the least " 
 
 "You forget I have the duty to pay." 
 
 "My dear lady, if you had not been anxious to 
 evade payment of the duty you would be enjoying 
 the ownership of your necklace today." 
 
 As he spoke the telephone-bell rang. Staff turned 
 away to his desk, Ismay's voice pursuing him with 
 the caution. 
 
 "Don't forget about that open drawer keep 
 your hands away from it." 
 
 "Oh, be quiet," returned Staff contemptuously.
 
 290 THE BANDBOX 
 
 Standing with his back to them, he took up the in 
 strument and lifted off the receiver. 
 
 "Hello?" he said irritably. 
 
 He was glad that his face was not visible to his 
 guests; he could restrain a start of surprise, but was 
 afraid his expression would have betrayed him when 
 he recognised the voice at the other end of the line 
 as Iff's. 
 
 "Don't repeat my name," it said quickly hi a tone 
 low but clear. "That is Iff. Ismay still there?" 
 
 "Yes," said Staff instantly: "it's I, Harry. How 
 are you?" 
 
 " Get rid of him as quick 's you can," Iff continued, 
 " and join me here at the Park Avenue. I dodged down 
 the fire-escape and caught his motor-car; his chauffeur 
 thinks I 'm him. I '11 wait in the street Thirty- 
 third Street side, with the car. Now talk." 
 
 "All right," said Staff heartily; "glad to. I'll 
 be there." 
 
 "Chauffeur knows where Nelly is, I think; but he 's 
 too big for me to handle alone, in case my foot slips 
 and he gets suspicious. That 's why I need you. 
 Bring your gun." 
 
 "Right," Staff agreed promptly. "The club in half 
 an hour. Yes, I '11 come. Good-bye." 
 
 He turned back toward Ismay and Alison, his doubts
 
 THE ENEMY'S HAND 291 
 
 resolved, all his vague misgivings as to this case of 
 double identity settled finally and forever. 
 
 "Alison," he said, breaking in roughly upon some 
 thing Ismay was saying to the girl, "you Ve a cab 
 waiting outside, have n't you? " 
 
 Alison stared in surprise. "Yes," she said in a tone 
 of wonder. 
 
 Staff paused beside the divan, one hand resting upon 
 the topmost of a little heap of silken cushions. "Mind 
 if I borrow it?" he asked, ignoring the man. 
 
 "No, but " 
 
 "It's business important," said Staff. "I'll 
 have to leave you here at once. Only " he watched 
 Ismay closely out of the corners of his eyes "if I 
 were you I would n't waste any more time on this 
 fellow. He 's bluffing can't carry out anything 
 he promises." 
 
 Ismay turned toward him, expostulant. 
 
 "What d'you mean by that?" he demanded. 
 
 "Miss Searle has escaped," said Staff deliberately. 
 
 "No!" cried Ismay, startled and thrown off his guard 
 by the fear it might be so. " Impossible! " 
 
 "Think so?" As he spoke Staff dextrously snatched 
 up the uppermost pillow and with a twist of his hand 
 sent it whirling into the thief's face. 
 
 It took him utterly unawares. His arms flew up
 
 292 THE BANDBOX 
 
 too late to ward it off, and he staggered back a 
 pace. 
 
 "Lots of impossible things keep happening all the 
 time," chuckled Staff as he closed in. 
 
 There was hardly a struggle. Staff's left arm clipped 
 the man about the waist at the same tune that 
 his right hand deftly abstracted the pistol from its 
 convenient pocket. Then, dropping the weapon into 
 his own pocket, he transferred his hold to Ismay's col 
 lar and spun him round with a snap that fairly jarred 
 his teeth. 
 
 " There, confound you ! " he said, exploring his pockets 
 for other lethal weapons and finding nothing but 
 three loaded clips ready to be inserted in the hollow 
 butt of the pistol already confiscated. " Now what 'm 
 I going to do with you, you blame' little pest?" 
 
 The question was more to himself than to Ismay, 
 but the latter, recovering with astonishing quickness, 
 answered Staff by suddenly squirming out of his coat 
 and leaving it in his assailant's hands as he ducked to 
 the door and flung himself out. 
 
 Staff broke into a laugh as the patter of the little 
 man's feet was heard on the stairs. 
 
 "Resourceful beggar," he commented, going to 
 the window and rolling up the coat as he went. He 
 reached it just in time to see the thief dodge out.
 
 THE ENEMY'S HAND 293 
 
 The coat, opening as it descended, fell like a 
 blanket round Ismay's head. He stumbled, tripped 
 and fell headlong down the steps, sprawling and 
 cursing. 
 
 "Thought you might need it," Staff apologised as 
 the man picked himself up and darted away. 
 
 He turned to confront an infuriated edition of Alison. 
 
 "Why did you do that? " she demanded with a stamp 
 of her foot. "What right had you to interfere? I 
 was beating him down; in another minute we 'd have 
 come to terms " 
 
 "Oh, don't be silly, my dear," said Staff, taking 
 his revolver from the desk-drawer and placing it in 
 the hip-pocket of tradition. "To begin with, I don't 
 mind telling you I don't give much of a whoop whether 
 you ever get that necklace back or not." He grabbed 
 his hat and started for the door. " What I 'm interested 
 in is the rescue of Miss Searle, if you must know; and 
 that 's going to happen before long, or I miss my 
 guess." He paused at the open door. "If we get 
 her, we get the necklace, of course and the Lord 
 knows you '11 be welcome to that. Would you mind 
 turning out the lights before you go?" 
 
 "Staff!" 
 
 Her tone was so peremptory that he hesitated an 
 unwelcome moment longer.
 
 294 THE BANDBOX 
 
 "Well?" he asked civilly, wondering what on earth 
 she had found to fly into such a beastly rage about. 
 
 "You know what this means?" 
 
 "You tell me," he smiled. 
 
 " It means the break; I won't play A Single Woman! " 
 she snapped. 
 
 "That 's the best guess you 've made yet," he 
 laughed. "You win. Good night and good-bye."
 
 XVI 
 
 NINETY MINUTES 
 
 COMMANDEERING Alison's taxicab with the 
 promise of an extra tip, Staff jumped in and 
 shut the door. As they swung into Fourth Avenue, 
 he caught a glimpse of Ismay's slight figure standing 
 on the corner, his pose expressive of indecision and 
 uncertainty; and Staff smiled to himself, surmising 
 that it was there that the thief had left his motor-car 
 to be confiscated by Iff. 
 
 Three blocks north on Fourth Avenue, and they 
 swung west into Thirty-third Street: a short course 
 quickly covered, but yet not swiftly enough to outpace 
 Staff's impatience. He had the door open, his foot 
 on the step, before the taxicab had begun to slow 
 down preparatory to stopping beside the car waiting 
 in the shadow of the big hotel. 
 
 Iff was in the tonneau, gesticulating impatiently; 
 the chauffeur had already cranked up and was sliding 
 into his seat. As the taxicab rolled alongside, Staff 
 jumped, thrust double the amount registered by the 
 
 295
 
 296 THE BANDBOX 
 
 meter into the driver's hand, and sprang into the body 
 of Ismay's car. Iff snapped the door shut; as though 
 set in motion by that sharp sound, the machine began 
 to move smoothly and smartly, gathering momentum 
 with every revolution of its wheels. They were cross 
 ing Madison almost before Staff had settled into his 
 seat. A moment later they were snoring up Fifth 
 Avenue. 
 
 Staff looked at his watch. "Ten," he told Iff. 
 
 "We '11 make time once we get clear of this island," 
 said the little man anxiously; "we Ve got to." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 "Tobeatlsmay " 
 
 Staff checked him with a hand on his arm and a 
 warning glance at the back of the chauffeur's head. 
 
 "Oh, that 's all right now," Iff told him placidly. 
 " I thought we might 's well understand one another 
 first as last; so, while we were waiting for you, I slipped 
 him fifty, gave him to understand that my affectionate 
 cousin had about come to the end of his rope and 
 won his heart and confidence. It 's a way I have with 
 people; they do seem to fall for me," he asserted with 
 insufferable self-complacence. 
 
 He continued to impart his purchased information 
 to Staff by snatches all the way from Thirty-fourth 
 Street to the Harlem River.
 
 NINETY MINUTES 297 
 
 "He 's a decent sort," he said, indicating the 
 operator with a nod; "apparently, that is; name, 
 Spelvin. Employed by a garage upon the West Side, 
 in the Seventies. Says Ismay rang 'em up about half- 
 past two last night, chartered this car and driver, 
 to be kept waiting for him whenever he called for 
 it. ... Coarse work that, for Cousin Arbuthnot 
 very, very crude. . . . 
 
 "Still, he'd just got home and hadn't had time 
 to make very polished arrangements. . . . Seems he 
 told this chap he was to see nothing but the road, 
 hear nothing but the motor, say nothing whatever 
 to nobody. Gave him a fifty, too. That habit seems 
 to run in the family. . . . 
 
 "He called for the car around five o'clock, with Nelly. 
 Spelvin says she seemed worn out, hardly conscious 
 of what was going on. They lit out for where 
 we 're bound: place on the Connecticut shore called 
 Pennymint Point. On the way Ismay told him to 
 stop at a roadhouse, got out and brought Nelly a 
 drink. Spelvin says he would n't be surprised if it 
 was doped; she slept all the rest of the way and hardly 
 woke up even when they helped her aboard the boat." 
 
 "Boat!" 
 
 "Motor-boat. I infer that Cousin Arbuthnot has 
 established headquarters on a little two-by-four island
 
 298 THE BANDBOX 
 
 in the Sound Wreck Island. Used to be run as a 
 one-horse summer resort hotel and all that. Went 
 under several years ago, if mem'ry serveth me aright. 
 Anyhow, they loaded Nelly aboard this motor-boat 
 and took her across. . . . 
 
 "Spelvin was told to wait. He did. In about an 
 hour boat back; native running it hands Spelvin 
 a note, tells him to run up to Hartford and post it 
 and be back at seven p. M. Spelvin back at seven; 
 Ismay comes across by boat, is driven to town. . . . 
 
 " That 's all, to date. Spelvin had begun to suspect 
 there was something crooked going on, which made 
 him easy meat for my insidious advances. Says he 
 was wondering if he had n't better tell his troubles 
 to a cop. All of which goes to show that Cousin Artie 's 
 fast going to seed. Very crude operating man of his 
 reputation, too. Makes me almost ashamed of the 
 relationship." 
 
 "How are we going to get to Wreck Island from 
 Pennymint Point?" 
 
 "Same boat," said Iff confidently. "Spelvin heard 
 Ismay tell his engineer to wait for him would be 
 back between midnight and three." 
 
 "He can't beat us there, can he, by any chance?" 
 
 "He can if he humps himself. This is a pretty good 
 car, and Spelvin says there is n't going to be any car
 
 NINETY MINUTES 299 
 
 on the road tonight that '11 pass us; but I can't forget 
 that dear old New York, New Haven & Hartford. 
 They run some fast trains by night, and while of course 
 none of them stops at Pennymint Centre station for 
 the Point still, a man with plenty of money to "fling 
 around can get a whole lot of courtesy out of a rail 
 road." 
 
 "Then the question is: can he catch a train which 
 passes through Pennymint Centre before we can rea 
 sonably expect to get there?" 
 
 "That's the intelligent query. I don't know. Do 
 you?" 
 
 "No" 
 
 "Spelvin doesn't, and we haven't got any time to 
 waste trying to find out. Probabilities are, there is. 
 The only thing to do is to run for it and trust to luck. 
 Spelvin says it took him an hour and thirty-five minutes 
 to run in, this evening; and he 's going to better that 
 if nothing happens. Did you remember to bring a 
 gun?" 
 
 "Two." Staff produced the pistol he had taken from 
 Ismay, with the extra clips, and gave them to the little 
 man with an account of how he had become possessed 
 of them a narrative which Iff seemed to enjoy 
 immensely. 
 
 "Oh, we can't lose," he chuckled; "not when Cousin
 
 300 THE BANDBOX 
 
 Artie plays his hand as poorly as he has this deal. 
 I ve got a perfectly sound hunch that we '11 win." 
 
 i Staff hardly shared his confidence; still, as far as 
 he could judge, the odds were even. Ismay might 
 beat them to Pennymint Centre by train, and might 
 not. If he did, however, it could not be by more than 
 a slight margin; to balance which fact, Staff had to 
 remind himself that two minutes' margin was all that 
 would be required to get the boat away from land, 
 beyond their reach. 
 
 "Look here," he put it to Iff: "suppose he does beat 
 us to that boat?" 
 
 "Then we '11 have to find another." 
 
 "There'll be another handy, all ready for us, I 
 presume?" 
 
 "Spare me your sarcasm," pleaded Iff; "it is, if you 
 don't mind my mentioning the fact, not your forte. 
 Silence, on the other hand, suits your style cunningly. 
 So shut up and lemme think." 
 
 He relapsed into profound meditations, while the 
 car hummed onwards through the moon-drenched 
 spaces of the night. 
 
 Presently he roused and, without warning, clam 
 bered over the back of the seat into the place beside 
 the chauffeur. For a time the two conferred, heads 
 together, their words indistinguishable in the sweep
 
 NINETY MINUTES 301 
 
 of air. Then, in the same spry fashion, the little man 
 returned. 
 
 "Spelvin's a treasure," he announced, settling into 
 his place. 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 "Knows the country knows a man in Barmouth 
 who runs a shipyard, owns and hires out motor- 
 boats, and all that sort of thing." 
 
 "Where's Barmouth?" 
 
 "Four miles this side of Pennymint Point. Now 
 we 've got to decide whether to hold on and run our 
 chances of picking up Ismay's boat, or turn off to 
 Barmouth and run our chances of finding chauffeur's, 
 friend with boat disengaged. What do you think?" 
 
 "Barmouth," Staff decided after some deliberation 
 but not without misgivings. 
 
 "That's what I told Spelvin," observed Iff. "It's 
 a gamble either way." 
 
 The city was now well behind them, the car pound 
 ing steadily on through Westchester. For a long time 
 neither spoke. The time for talk, indeed, was past 
 and in the future; for the present they must tune them 
 selves up to action such action as the furious onrush 
 of the powerful car in some measure typified, easing 
 the impatience in their hearts. 
 
 For a time the road held them near railroad tracks.
 
 302 THE BANDBOX 
 
 A train hurtled past them, running eastwards: a 
 roaring streak of orange light crashing through the 
 world of cool night blues and purple-blacks. 
 
 The chauffeur swore audibly and let out another 
 notch of speed. 
 
 Staff sat spellbound by the amazing romance of it 
 all. ... A bare eight days since that afternoon when 
 a whim, born of a love now lifeless, had stirred him 
 out of his solitary, work-a-day life in London, had lifted 
 him out of the ordered security of the centre of the 
 world's civilisation and sent him whirling dizzily 
 across three thousand miles and more to become a 
 partner in this wild, weird ride to the rescue of a damsel 
 in distress and durance vile! Incredible! . . . 
 
 Eight days: and the sun of Alison, that once he 
 had thought to be the light of all the world, had set; 
 while in the evening sky the star of Eleanor was rising 
 and blazing ever more brightly. . . . 
 
 Now when a man begins to think about himself and 
 his heart in such poetic imagery, the need for human 
 intercourse grows imperative on his understanding; 
 he must talk or suffer severely. 
 
 Staff turned upon his defenseless companion. 
 
 "Iff," said he, "when a man 's the sort of a man who 
 can fall out of love and in again with another woman, 
 of course inside a week what do you call him? "
 
 NINETY MINUTES 303 
 
 "Human," announced Iff after mature considera 
 tion of the problem. 
 
 This was unsatisfactory; Staff yearned to be called 
 fickle. 
 
 "Human? How 's that?" he insisted. 
 
 "I mean that the human man hasn't got much to 
 say about falling in or out of love. The women take 
 care of all that for him. Look at your Miss Landis 
 yours as was. . . . You don't mind my buttin' in?" 
 
 "Go on/' said Staff grimly. 
 
 "Anybody with half an eye, always excepting you, 
 could see she'd made up her mind to hook that Arkroyd 
 pinhead on account of his money. She was just waiting 
 for a fair chance to give you the office preferably, 
 of course, after she 'd nailed that play of yours." 
 
 "Well," said Staff, "she's lost that, too." 
 
 "Serves you both right." 
 
 There was a pause wherein Staff sought to fathom 
 the meaning of this last utterance of Mr. Iff's. 
 
 " I take it," resumed the latter with a sidelong look 
 "pardon a father's feelings of delicacy I take it, 
 you're meaning Nelly?" 
 
 "How did you guess that?" demanded Staff, startled. 
 
 "Right, eh?" 
 
 "Yes no I don't know " 
 
 "Well, if you don't know the answer any better 'n
 
 304 THE BANDBOX 
 
 that, take a word of advice from an old bird: you get 
 her to tell you. She 's known it ever since she laid 
 eyes on you." 
 
 "You mean she I " Staff stammered eagerly. 
 
 "I mean nobody knows anything about a woman's 
 Heart but herself; but she knows it backwards and all 
 the time." 
 
 "Then you don't think I 've got any show? " 
 
 "Oh, Lord!" complained Iff. "Honest, you gimme 
 a pain. Go on and do your own thinking." 
 
 Staff subsided, imagining a vain thing: that the 
 mantle of dignity in which he wrapped himself success 
 fully cloaked his sense of injury. Iff smiled a mean 
 ingless smile up at the inscrutable skies. And the 
 moonlit miles slipped beneath the wheels like a torrent 
 of moulten silver. 
 
 At length it seemed as if many hours must have 
 swung crashing into eternity since they had left New 
 York Staff was conscious of a perceptible diminution 
 of speed; he was able to get his breath with less effort, 
 had no longer to snatch it by main strength from the 
 greedy clutches of the whirlwind. The reeling chiar 
 oscuro of the countryside seemed suddenly to become 
 calm, settling into an intelligible, more or less orderly 
 arrangement of shining hills and shadowed hollows, 
 spreading pastures and sombre woodlands. The
 
 NINETY MINUTES 305 
 
 chauffeur flung a few inarticulate words over his shoul 
 der readily interpreted as announcing the nearness 
 of their destination; and of a sudden the car swung 
 from the main highway into a narrow by-road that ran 
 off to the right. A little later they darted through a 
 cut beneath railroad tracks, and a village sprang out 
 of the night and rattled past them, serenely slumbrous. 
 From this centre a thin trickle of dwellings straggled 
 along their way. Across fields to the left, Staff caught 
 glimpses of a spreading sheet of water, still and silvery- 
 grey. . . . 
 
 On a long slant, the road drew nearer and more near 
 to the shores of this arm of the Sound. Presently a 
 group of small buildings near the head of a long 
 landing-stage swam into view. Before them the car 
 drew up with a sigh. The chauffeur jumped down and 
 ran across the road to a house in whose lower story a 
 lighted window was visible. While he hammered at 
 the door, Staff and Iff alighted. A man in his shirt 
 sleeves came to the door of the cottage and stood there, 
 pipe in mouth, hands in pockets, languidly interjecting 
 dispassionate responses into the chauffeur's animated 
 exposition of their case. As Staff and Iff came up, 
 Spelvin turned to them, excitedly waving his gauntlets. 
 
 "He's got a boat, all right, and a good one he says, 
 but he won't move a foot for less 'n twenty dollars."
 
 306 THE BANDBOX 
 
 " Give you twenty-five if you get away from the dock 
 within five minutes," Iff told the boatbuilder directly. 
 
 The man started as if stung. " Jemima ! " he breathed, 
 incredulous. Then caution prompted him to extend a 
 calloused and work-warped hand. "Cross my palm," 
 he said. 
 
 "You give it to him, Staff," said Iff magnificently. 
 "I'm short of cash." 
 
 Obediently, Staff disbursed the required sum. The 
 native thumbed it, pocketed it, lifted his coat from a 
 nail behind the door and started across the road in a 
 single movement. 
 
 "You come 'long, Spelvin," he said in passing, 
 " 'nd help with the boat. If you gents '11 get out on 
 the dock I '11 have her alongside in three minutes, 
 'r my name ain't Bascom." 
 
 Pursued by the chauffeur, he disappeared into the 
 huddle of boat-houses and beached and careened boats. 
 A moment later, Iff and Staff, picking their way through 
 the tangle, heard the scrape of a flat-bottomed boat 
 on the beach and, subsequently, splashing oars. 
 
 By the time they had reached the end of the dock, 
 the boatbuilder and his companion were scrambling 
 aboard a twenty-five-foot boat at anchor in the midst 
 of a small fleet of sail and gasoline craft. The rumble 
 of a motor followed almost instantly, was silenced mo-
 
 NINETY MINUTES 307 
 
 mentarily while the skiff was being made fast to the 
 mooring, broke out again as the larger boat selected 
 a serpentine path through the circumjacent vessels 
 and slipped up to the dock. 
 
 Before it had lost way, Iff and Staff were aboard. 
 Instantly, Bascom snapped the switch shut and the 
 motor started again on the spark. 
 
 "Straight out," he instructed Spelvin at the wheel, 
 "till you round that white moorin'-dolphin. Then 
 I '11 take her." . . . 
 
 Not long afterward he gave up pottering round the 
 engine and went forward, relieving Spelvin. "You go 
 back and keep your eye on that engyne," he ordered; 
 "she's workin' like a sewin'-machine, but she wants 
 watchin'. I '11 tell you when to give her the spark. 
 Meanwhile you might 's well dig them lights out of the 
 port locker and set 'em out." 
 
 "No," Iff put in. "We want no lights." 
 
 "Gov'mint regulations," said Bascom stubbornly. 
 "Must carry lights." 
 
 "Five dollars?" Iff argued persuasively. 
 
 "Agin the law," growled Bascom. "But I dunno 
 they ain't anybody likely to be out this time o' night. 
 Cross my palm." 
 
 And Staff again disbursed. 
 
 The white mooring-buoy swam past and the little
 
 308 THE BANDBOX 
 
 vessel heeled as Bascom swung her sharply to the 
 southwards. 
 
 "Now," he told Spelvin, "advance that spark all 
 you Ve a mind to." 
 
 There was a click from the engine-pit and the steady 
 rumble of the exhaust ran suddenly into a prolonged 
 whining drone. The boat jumped as if jerked forward 
 by some gigantic, invisible hand. Beneath the bows 
 the water parted with a crisp sound like tearing 
 paper. Long ripples widened away from the sides, 
 like ribs of a huge fan. A glassy hillock of water sprang 
 up mysteriously astern, pursuing them like an avenging 
 Nemesis, yet never quite catching up. 
 
 The sense of irresistible speed was tremendous, as 
 stimulating as electricity; this in spite of the fact that 
 the boat was at best making about half the speed at 
 which the motor-car had plunged along the country 
 roads: an effect in part due to the spacious illusion of 
 moonlit distances upon the water. 
 
 Staff held his cap with one hand, drinking in the keen 
 salt air with a feeling of strange exultation. Iff crept 
 forward and tarried for a time talking to the boat- 
 builder. 
 
 The boat shaved a nun-buoy outside Barmouth 
 Point so closely that Staff could almost have touched 
 it by stretching out his arm. Then she straightened
 
 NINETY MINUTES 309 
 
 out like a greyhound on a long course across the 
 placid silver reaches to a goal as yet invisible. 
 
 Iff returned to the younger man's side. 
 
 "Twenty miles an hour, Bascom claims/' he shouted. 
 "At that rate we ought to be there in about fifteen 
 minutes now." 
 
 Staff nodded, wondering what they would find on 
 Wreck Island, bitterly repenting the oversight which 
 had resulted in Ismay's escape from his grasp. If 
 only he had not been so sure of his conquest of the little 
 criminal . . . ! Now his mind crawled with apprehen 
 sions bred of his knowledge of the man's amazing fund 
 of resource. He who outwitted Ismay would have 
 earned the right to plume himself upon his cunning. . . . 
 
 When he looked up from his abstraction, the loom of 
 the mainland was seemingly very distant. The motor- 
 boat was nearing the centre of a deep indentation in 
 the littoral. And suddenly it was as though they did 
 not move at all, as if all this noise and labour went 
 for nothing, as if the boat were chained to the centre 
 of a spreading disk of silver, world-wide, illimitable, 
 and made no progress for all its thrashing and its 
 fury. 
 
 Only the unending sweep of wind across his face 
 denied that effect. . . . 
 
 Iff touched his arm.
 
 310 THE BANDBOX 
 
 "There. . . ."he said, pointing. 
 
 Over the bows a dark mass seemed to have separated 
 itself from the shadowed mainland, with which it had 
 till then been merged. A strip of silver lay between the 
 two, and while they watched it widened, swiftly win 
 ning breadth and bulk as the motor-boat swung to 
 the north of the long, sandy spit at the western end 
 of Wreck Island. 
 
 "See anything of another boat?" Iff asked. "You 
 look your eyes are younger than mine." 
 
 Staff stood up, steadying himself with feet wide 
 apart, and stared beneath his hand. 
 
 "No," he said; " I see no boat." 
 
 "We Ve beaten him, then!" Iff declared joyfully. 
 
 But they hadn't, nor were they long in finding it 
 out. For presently the little island lay black, a ragged 
 shadow against the blue-grey sky, upon the starboard 
 beam; and Bascom passed the word aft to shut off the 
 motor. As its voice ceased, the boat shot in toward 
 the land, and the long thin moonlit line of the landing- 
 stage detached itself from the general obscurity and 
 ran out to meet them. And so closely had Bascom 
 calculated that the "shoot" of the boat brought them 
 to a standstill at the end of the structure without a 
 jar. Bascom jumped out with the headwarp, Staff and 
 Iff at his heels.
 
 NINETY MINUTES 311 
 
 From the other side of the dock a shadow uplifted 
 itself, swiftly and silently as a wraith, and stood sway 
 ing as it saluted them with profound courtesy. 
 
 " Gennelmen," it said thickly, "I bidsh you welcome 
 t' Wrecksh Island." 
 
 With this it slumped incontinently back into a motor- 
 boat which lay moored in the shadow of the dock; and 
 a wild, ecstatic snore rang out upon the calm night air. 
 
 "Thet's Eph Clover," said Bascom; "him 'nd his 
 wife 's caretakers here. He 's drunker 'n a b'iled owl," 
 added the boatbuilder lest they misconstrue. 
 
 "Cousin Artie seems unfortunate in his choice of 
 minions, what?" commented Iff. "Come along, Staff. 
 . . . Take care of that souse, will you, Spelvin? See 
 that he does n't try to mix in." 
 
 They began to run along the narrow, yielding and 
 swaying bridge of planks. 
 
 " He has n't beaten us out yet," Iff threw over his 
 shoulder. "You keep back now like a good child 
 please. I 've got a hunch this is my hour." 
 
 The hotel loomed before them, gables grey with 
 moonshine, its long walls dark save where, toward the 
 middle of the main structure, chinks of light filtered 
 through a shuttered window, and where at one end an 
 open door let out a shaft of lamplight upon the 
 shadows. .
 
 XVII 
 
 HOLOCAUST 
 
 FOR a period of perhaps twenty seconds the man and 
 the girl remained moveless, eyeing one another; 
 she on the floor, pale, stunned and pitiful, for the 
 instant bereft of every sense save that of terror; he 
 in the doorway, alert, fully the master of his concen 
 trated faculties, swayed by two emotions only a 
 malignant temper bred of the night's succession of 
 reverses capped by the drunkenness of his caretaker, 
 and an equally malignant sense of triumph that he 
 had returned in time to crush the girl's attempt to 
 escape. 
 
 He threw the door wide open and took a step into 
 the room, putting away his pistol. 
 
 "So "he began in a cutting voice. 
 
 But his movement had acted as the shock needed to 
 rouse the girl out of her stupor of despair. With a 
 cry she gathered herself together and jumped to her 
 feet. He put forth a hand as if to catch her, and she 
 
 312
 
 HOLOCAUST 313 
 
 leaped back. Her skirts swept the lamp on the floor 
 and overturned it with a splintering crash. Instinc 
 tively she sprang away in the nick of time. 
 
 She caught a look of surprise and fright in the 
 eyes of the man as they glared past her in the 
 ghastly glow of the flickering wick, and took advan 
 tage of this momentary distraction to leap past him. 
 As she did so there was a slight explosion. A sheet of 
 flaming kerosene spread over the floor and licked the 
 chairboarding. 
 
 Ismay jumped back, mouthing curses; the girl had 
 already slipped out of the room. Turning, he saw 
 her flying through the hall toward the main door. 
 In a fit of futile, childish spite, unreasonable and 
 unreasoning, he whipped out his pistol and sent a 
 bullet after her. 
 
 She heard it whine near her head and crash through 
 the glass panes of the door. And she heard herself 
 cry out in a strange voice. The next instant she had 
 flung open the door and thrown herself out, across the 
 veranda and down the steps. Then turning blindly to- 
 the left, instinct guiding her to seek temporary safety 
 by hiding in the wilderness of the dunes, she blund 
 ered into somebody's arms. 
 
 She was caught and held fast despite her struggles to 
 free herself: to which, believing herself to be in the
 
 314 THE BANDBOX 
 
 hands of Mrs. Clover or her husband, she gave all her 
 strength. 
 
 At the same time the first-floor windows of the hotel 
 were illumined by an infernal glare. All round her 
 there was lurid light, setting everything in sharp relief. 
 The face of the man who held her was suddenly re 
 vealed; and it was her father's. . . . She had left him 
 inside the building and now . . . She was assailed with 
 a terrifying fear that she had gone mad. In a frenzy 
 she wrenched herself free; but only to be caught in 
 other arms. 
 
 A voice she knew said soothingly: "There, Miss 
 Searle you 're all right now. ..." 
 
 Staff's voice and, when she twisted to look, Staff's 
 face, friendly and reassuring! 
 
 "Don't be afraid," he was saying; "we'll take care 
 of you now your father and I." 
 
 "My father!" she gasped. "My father is in 
 there!" 
 
 "No," said Iff at her side. "Believe me, he isn't. 
 That, dear, is your fondly affectionate Uncle Arbuth- 
 not and between the several of us I don't mind tell 
 ing you that he 's stood in my shoes for the last time." 
 
 "But I don't," she stammered "I don't under 
 stand " 
 
 "You will in a minute," Staff told her gently. At
 
 HOLOCAUST 315 
 
 the same time he lifted his voice. "Look out, Iff 
 lookout!" 
 
 He strove to put himself between the girl and 
 danger, making a shield of his body. But with a 
 supple movement she eluded him. 
 
 She saw in the doorway of the burning house the 
 man she had thought to be her father. The other 
 man, he whose daughter she really was, had started to 
 run toward the veranda steps. The man in the door 
 way flung up his hand and, clear and vicious above 
 the crackling of the flames, she heard the short song 
 of a Colt automatic six shots, so close upon one 
 another that they were as one prolonged. 
 
 There was a spatter of bullets in the sandy ground 
 about them; and then, with scarcely an appreciable 
 interval, a second flutter of an automatic. This time 
 the reports came from the pistol in Iff 's hand. He was 
 standing in full glare at the bottom of the veranda 
 steps, aiming with great composure and precision. 
 
 The figure in the doorway reeled as if struck by an 
 axe, swung half-way round and tottered back into the 
 house. The little man below the veranda steps delayed 
 only long enough to pluck out the empty clip from the 
 butt of his pistol and slip another, loaded, into its 
 place. Then with cat-like agility he sprang up the 
 steps and dived into the furnace-like interior of the
 
 316 THE BANDBOX 
 
 hotel. A third stuttering series of reports saluted this 
 action, and then there was a short pause ended by a 
 single shot. 
 
 "Come," said Staff. He took her arm gently. 
 "Come away. ..." 
 
 Shuddering, she suffered him to lead her a little 
 distance into the dunes. Here he released her. 
 
 "If you won't mind being left alone a few minutes/' 
 he said, " I '11 go back and see what 's happened. You '11 
 be perfectly safe here, I fancy." 
 
 "Please," she said breathlessly "do go. Yes, 
 please." 
 
 She urged him with frantic gestures. . . . 
 
 He hurried back to the front of the hotel. By now 
 it was burning like a bonfire; already, short as had been 
 the time since the overturning of the lamp, the entire 
 ground floor with the exception of one wing was a 
 roaring welter of flames, while the fire had leaped up 
 the main staircase and set its signals in the windows 
 of the upper story. 
 
 Iff was standing at some distance from the main 
 entrance, having pushed his way through the tangle 
 of undergrowth to escape the scorching heat that ema 
 nated from the building. He caught sight of Staff 
 approaching and waved a hand to him. 
 
 "Greetings!" he cried cheerfully, raising his voice
 
 HOLOCAUST 317 
 
 to make it heard above the voice of the conflagration. 
 "Where's Nelly?" 
 
 Staff explained. "But what about Ismay?" he 
 demanded. 
 
 Iff grinned and hung his head as if embarrassed, 
 rubbing a handkerchief over the smoke-stained fingers 
 of his right hand. 
 
 "I got him," he said simply. 
 
 "You left him in there?" 
 
 The little man nodded without reply and turned 
 alertly to engage Mrs. Clover, who was bearing down 
 upon them in the first stages of hysterics. But at 
 sight of Iff she pulled up and calmed herself a trifle. 
 
 "Oh, sir," she cried, "I 'm so glad you 're safe, sir! 
 I was asleep in the kitchen when the fire broke out 
 and then I thought I heard pistol shots and I did n't 
 know but somethin' had happened to you " 
 
 "No," said Iff coolly; "you can see I'm all right." 
 
 " And Eph, sir? Where 's my husband? " she shrieked. 
 
 "Oh," said Iff, at length identifying the woman. 
 "You'll find him down at the dock dead drunk in 
 the motor-boat," he told her. "If I were you I'd go 
 to him right away." 
 
 "But whatever will we do for a place to sleep to 
 night?" 
 
 "Help yourself," Iff replied with a generous wave of
 
 318 v THE BANDBOX 
 
 his hand. "You 've all Pennymint to ask shelter of, 
 if you can manage to make your husband run the boat 
 across." 
 
 "But you what '11 you do?" 
 
 "I've another boat handy," Iff explained. "We'll 
 go in that." 
 
 "And will you rebuild, sir?" 
 
 "No," he said gravely, "I don't think so. I fancy 
 this is the last time I '11 ever set foot on Wreck Island. 
 Now clear out," he added with a sharp change of 
 manner, "and see if you can't sober that drunken fool 
 up." 
 
 Abashed, the woman cringed and turned away. 
 Presently she broke into a clumsy run and vanished 
 in the direction of the landing-stage. 
 
 "You 've accepted the identity of Ismay," com 
 mented Staff disapprovingly, as they moved off to 
 gether to rejoin Eleanor. 
 
 "For the last time," said the little man. "Until 
 I get aboard Bascom's boat again, only. It's the 
 easiest way." 
 
 "How do you mean?" 
 
 Iff nodded at the blazing building. "That wipes 
 out all scores," he replied. " What they find of Cousin 
 Artie when that cools off won't be enough to hold an 
 inquest over; he will be simply thought to have disap-
 
 HOLOCAUST 319 
 
 peared, since I won't return to this place. And that 's 
 the easiest way : we don't got any use for inquests at 
 the wind-up of this giddy dune-novel!" 
 
 The light of the great fire illumined not only all 
 the island but the waters for miles around. As 
 Bascom's boat drew away, its owner called Staff's 
 attention to a covey of sails, glowing pink against the 
 dark background of the mainland as they stood across 
 the arm of the Sound for the island. 
 
 "Neighbours," said Mr. Bascom; "comin' for to 
 see if they can lend a hand or snatch a souvenir or so, 
 mebbe." 
 
 Staff nodded, with little interest. Out of the corners 
 of his eyes he could see Iff and his daughter, on the 
 opposite side of the boat. Iff was talking to her 
 in a gentle, subdued voice strangely unlike his cus 
 tomary acrid method of expression. He had an arm 
 round his daughter's shoulders; her head rested on 
 his. . . . 
 
 Staff looked away, back at the shining island. He 
 could not grudge the little man his hour. His own would 
 come, in time. . . . 
 
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