R-F- FOSTER
 
 S :? H'*-^^ C/^^
 
 CAB No. 44
 
 By R. F. FOSTER 
 
 Author of " Foster's Complete Hoyle," "Auction 
 Bridge," Etc. 
 
 FOURTH EDITION 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY 
 PUBLISHERS
 
 COPYRIGHT. 1910, BT 
 
 FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY 
 
 COPYRIGHT. 1909, 1910, BT 
 STREET & SMITH 
 
 AH rights reserved 
 
 January, 1910 
 
 J
 
 CAB NO. 44 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 LATE in the afternoon of a clear cold 
 day in the Fall, the usual crowd of 
 loungers was scattered through the 
 brilliantly lighted marble corridor that formed 
 the men's entrance to a hotel on upper Broad- 
 way, New York. The long rows of leather- 
 covered easy-chairs with which the corridor was 
 lined were filled with men in various attitudes 
 of indolence. Some of the men were smoking 
 dreamily, some were reading the afternoon 
 papers, while others were chatting to friends or 
 telling stories. None of them seemed to have 
 anything in particular to do, although it might 
 have appeared to an impartial observer that the 
 business in which the occupants of all these 
 chairs were engaged was the careful scrutiny of 
 each person that passed along the corridor. 
 
 At the street end stood the colored porter, 
 ready to swing the revolvihg door for any new- 
 comer that might wish to enter, while the man 
 
 2135731
 
 2 Cab No. 44 
 
 at the cigar counter, just inside, gazed absent- 
 mindedly out of the window at the passing 
 throng on ever-busy Broadway, the Great White 
 Way. 
 
 At the other end of the corridor the clerk, 
 standing behind the counter, which is called by 
 courtesy a desk, seemed to be dividing his time 
 between feeling for his scarf-pin, as if to be sure 
 that it was still in place, and keeping his eye 
 on the elevator boys, who were lolling lazily 
 against the open doors of their cars. 
 
 A rather showily dressed man, apparently 
 about fifty, clean shaven, with bushy eyebrows 
 and thick lips, strolled up to the desk and helped 
 himself to a match, with which he lit a cigar. 
 Then he stuck his thumbs into the armholes of 
 his fancy waistcoat, leaned his back against the 
 edge of the desk and crossed his legs. 
 
 "Rotten cigar," he remarked to the clerk 
 presently, taking it out of his mouth and look- 
 ing at it critically. 
 
 "You're always kicking about something," 
 retorted the clerk, with a smile that betokened 
 old acquaintance. "Why don't you buy fifty- 
 cent cigars? You can afford it." 
 
 Before they could continue the conversation, 
 their attention was attracted by a tall young 
 man, in evening clothes, who had just stepped
 
 Cab No. 44 3 
 
 out of the elevator, where he hesitated for a 
 moment, taking in his surroundings with a rapid 
 survey. The clerk leaned over toward the man 
 in the fancy waistcoat and whispered: "Just 
 keep your eye on that for a moment and you'll 
 see something." 
 
 As the subject of this observation came 
 toward the desk he gave one the impression that 
 he was a man about thirty, and there was some- 
 thing in his movements that suggested the 
 strength and agility of athletic training. He 
 looked down the corridor toward Broadway, 
 and then turned round and went out at the 
 ladies' entrance on the side street. 
 
 "Looks English by his clothes," remarked 
 the man in the waistcoat, "but he isn't a blond. 
 He's got about the blackest hair I've seen in 
 some time, if it isn't dyed. I suppose it's still 
 the fashion to wear the whole suit of hair over 
 there, mustache, Vandyke and side whiskers, 
 just because the king wears his that way." He 
 stroked his own face carefully, as if to assure 
 himself that he had none of the ornaments to 
 which he referred. 
 
 "Never mind his whiskers," said the clerk in 
 a low voice. "Just keep your eye on the Broad- 
 way door for a minute." 
 
 In less than a minute from the time the dark
 
 4 Cab No. 44 
 
 young man with the Vandyke beard had disap- 
 peared through the ladies' entrance, he came 
 into the hotel again by the Broadway door, 
 walked quickly along the corridor, scanning the 
 faces right and left out of the corner of his eye, 
 until he had reached the ladies' entrance again. 
 After a glance through the glass doors up and 
 down the side street, he turned back and ap- 
 proached the desk. 
 
 Handing the clerk a card, he asked how he 
 should reach the address upon it. The clerk 
 had hardly taken the card when, to the English- 
 man's evident astonishment, the man who was 
 leaning against the desk deliberately reached 
 over and grasped it, holding his cigar in the 
 same hand. Before the clerk had time to open 
 his mouth, the smoker remarked, "Why, that's 
 in Brooklyn," in pretty much the same tone that 
 one would have said, "Why, you want to go to 
 Africa." Handing back the card he went on 
 glibly: "Better take a car to the City Hall, and 
 then cross the Bridge. Columbia Heights is 
 somewhere on the other side. Ask your way 
 when you get across. I never was in Brooklyn, 
 'cept passing through it to get to Coney." 
 
 The Englishman bowed his thanks, drew on 
 his gloves, buttoned his top coat, and walked 
 briskly toward the revolving door, running the
 
 Cab No. 44 5 
 
 gantlet of the loungers at each side, all of 
 whom followed him with their eyes, twisting 
 their necks slowly as he passed, just as they had 
 twisted them fifty times before during the last 
 half hour. 
 
 Arrived in Brooklyn, and having been put 
 down at a dingy corner on the way up Fulton 
 Street, with the direction to walk straight up 
 the hill, the young man made his way through 
 a street of curious old-fashioned houses, with 
 somber brown-stone fronts and odd-looking 
 wooden steps and handrails, which had been 
 placed upon the stone steps, ready for the 
 Winter's coming snow storms. 
 
 One of these was evidently the house for 
 which he was looking, and after a careful 
 scrutiny of the numbers, many of which were 
 painted in white letters upon the faces of the 
 brown-stone steps, he ran nimbly up to the door 
 of a comfortable, roomy-looking mansion and 
 rang the bell. 
 
 At an office in the city, the day before, he had 
 presented a letter of introduction to Mr. Charles 
 Ohlstrom, who had invited him to dinner. The 
 letter was from Mr. Ohlstrom's brother, who 
 lived in the Midlands. All it said was that 
 Hardy Maxwell was a fine fellow, a native of 
 Warwick, and that any attention to him during
 
 6 Cab No. 44 
 
 his brief visit to the States would be a favor. It 
 was this dinner engagement that Hardy Max- 
 well had come to keep. 
 
 Mr. Ohlstrom's daughter, Helen, had asked 
 a few questions about the stranger who had 
 brought the letter from her uncle, and she had 
 come to the conclusion, from her father's re- 
 ports, that he was just an ordinary young man, 
 tall, and very dark for an Englishman. 
 
 "I don't suppose he is as attractive as Mr. 
 Lathrop," remarked her mother, "but then 
 those shocking men are always good-looking." 
 
 "Well, mother, you know I don't believe half 
 the stories that are told about Mr. Lathrop. He 
 always treated me with the greatest respect." 
 
 "There is no question about his having run 
 away with another man's wife, is there?" the 
 mother retorted testily. 
 
 "I have nothing to do with other men's 
 wives," Helen answered. "I judge my friends 
 by their conduct toward me." 
 
 "Well, we won't say anything more about it. 
 You girls will excuse anything in a handsome 
 man, but I trust that if you ever meet Mr. 
 Lathrop again you will have nothing to do with 
 him." 
 
 The girl shrugged her shoulders, and her 
 mother went on :
 
 Cab No. 44 7 
 
 "Mr. Maxwell may not be handsome, but as 
 he comes with an introduction from your father's 
 brother, he is probably a gentleman." 
 
 The girl gave another shrug of her pretty 
 shoulders, as if to indicate that she did not care 
 much about Maxwell's appearance. In fact, she 
 had already formed a mental picture of some 
 one tall and lank, with loose-fitting clothes, and 
 a briar pipe in his mouth, but as all women like 
 to please, even when they are not particularly 
 interested, and as there always seems to be 
 'something more or less romantic to the average 
 American young woman in the idea of meeting 
 an Englishman, she took particular pains with 
 her toilet when she dressed for dinner, and 
 looked at herself in the mirror a great deal 
 oftener than was necessary as the hour ap- 
 proached at which Mr. Maxwell was expected 
 to present himself. 
 
 Helen Ohlstrom was tall and straight, with a 
 slender but well-proportioned figure. She had 
 a well-shaped head and a good, straight nose; a 
 good width between the eyes; firm lips, and that 
 absolute neatness in the arrangement of the hair 
 which one somehow or other always associates 
 with a woman of refinement. The hair itself 
 was brown, and in a brilliant light one could 
 distinguish that peculiar streak of lighter shade,
 
 8! Cab No. 44 
 
 almost bronze, which is said to indicate the com- 
 bination of the ardent lover and the steadfast 
 friend. 
 
 Her father and mother were chatting with 
 Maxwell when Helen entered the room. As 
 the stranger stood up to be presented, the girl 
 could not help mingling a glance of admiration 
 with her smile of welcome. He was so different 
 from the person she had pictured to herself; so 
 tall and straight, with his black hair and beard 
 in striking contrast to the snowy whiteness of 
 his tie and waistcoat. As she put out her hand 
 their eyes met, and she felt, somehow, that she 
 had made a good impression. She was in eve- 
 ning dress, the modest, girlish cut of which dis- 
 closed a beautiful neck and arms that were 
 round and white. 
 
 Helen sat opposite Maxwell at dinner, a cir- 
 cumstance which gave her an opportunity to 
 make further mental notes concerning his ap- 
 pearance. Most of the men she knew were 
 clean shaven, and while the black mustache 
 and beard struck her as odd, they were becom- 
 ing, and gave a certain virility to the face. As 
 to the other features, she thought it would be 
 difficult to pick out any that was striking or 
 peculiar. When she looked at his eyes or his 
 nose or his forehead, they appeared very much
 
 Cab No. 44 9 
 
 like other men's. How characteristic the chin 
 that was concealed by the Vandyke beard might 
 be she could only guess. The whole expression 
 of his face, while pleasing, especially when he 
 talked, seemed devoid of any distinguishing 
 trait. It was a face that one could not easily 
 fix in the memory except for the mustache and 
 the beard. 
 
 After dinner a married couple of mature 
 age, friends of Mr. and Mrs. Ohlstrom, 
 dropped in. The woman lost no time in stating 
 the object of her visit, which was to play dupli- 
 cate whist. 
 
 "Just a few boards," she insisted. "I am sure 
 Mr. Maxwell won't mind. We can play twelve 
 up and back. I am just dying to try that new 
 plain-suit echo." 
 
 After profuse excuses to the young English- 
 man for what they assured him would be 
 only a brief interruption, the four older per- 
 sons sat down to their game, the visitors 
 shuffling the cards and marking the trump 
 slips with an energy which betrayed the ruling 
 passion. 
 
 Helen led Maxwell to the other end of the 
 drawing-room, where she played for him a little 
 disjointed bits of melody, interlarded with 
 small talk, in which they mentioned the newest
 
 io Cab No. 44 
 
 books and the latest plays. At first there was 
 a slight constraint, of which the girl was quickly 
 conscious. Maxwell responded to all her con- 
 versational ventures without contributing any 
 clue to his own personality. He told her abso- 
 lutely nothing about himself, yet he looked at 
 her with frank eyes, and when he smiled she 
 saw something in his face which inspired ab- 
 solute confidence a fearlessness in which 
 strength, tenderness and honesty appeared to be 
 mingled. As he leaned against the piano look- 
 ing down at her, she noticed that he had a re- 
 pose of manner seldom possessed by her own 
 countrymen. He stood so still and gazed at 
 her so disconcertingly that she ended her playing 
 rather abruptly with a crash of chords that was 
 struck with the mischievous intention of startling 
 him. He seemed to read her thought, for he 
 ismiled comprehendingly. 
 
 "That was the signal that I have reached the 
 end of my international topics for drawing-room 
 conversation," Helen announced, with an art- 
 less challenge in her tone. "Now it is your turn 
 to talk, and mine to assent meekly to everything 
 you say." 
 
 She chose a high-backed chair in front of the 
 fire, which was burning merrily in the open grate,
 
 Cab No. 44 ir 
 
 and with a wave of her hand invited Maxwell 
 to take a seat near her. 
 
 "If you will allow me to suggest it, I think the 
 most interesting subject that you could discuss 
 would be yourself," he said, resting his elbow 
 on the arm of the chair and shading his eyes 
 from the firelight, so that he could gaze at her 
 when she least suspected that he was watching 
 her. "You know I have heard so much about 
 American girls and their individuality, so you 
 will pardon me if I tell you that I am glad 
 your stock of conventional small talk is ex- 
 hausted." 
 
 Helen's face flushed as she answered in a 
 bantering tone which thinly disguised her re- 
 sentment : 
 
 "I decline to be studied as a type, even though 
 I might furnish amusement for my father's 
 guest. You disappoint me. I thought you 
 might be different from the usual Englishman 
 who analyzes us and puts a label on us to dis- 
 tinguish us from his sisters." 
 
 Maxwell made haste to apologize. 
 
 "I confess that I have labeled you," he 
 added, "and I hope that I may know you well 
 enough some day to explain just how I have 
 classified you." 
 
 The girl's color deepened. Involuntarily she
 
 12 Cab No. 44 
 
 raised her eyes to his. Although they looked at 
 each other for a moment only, the glance estab- 
 lished a subtle understanding. 
 
 Helen broke the awkwardness of the silence 
 by some commonplace remark, and then the con- 
 versation drifted pleasantly until it carried them 
 back to themselves. Gradually Helen told 
 Maxwell many things about her life, so smooth 
 and so uneventful that she was often restless be- 
 cause of its monotony. She confessed that now 
 and then she longed for something that would 
 disturb the course of her well-ordered social 
 existence. Her father and mother, who be- 
 longed in thought and sympathy to their own 
 generation, and not to hers, were over-indul- 
 gent, she admitted, but they held her closely to 
 their own small circle of friends, and they did 
 not seem to realize that she was a woman of 
 progressive ideas and independent character. 
 
 "You do not look at all strong-minded," re- 
 marked Maxwell, with a glance that took ac- 
 count of the tenderness and sweetness indicated 
 by the rounding of the chin and the curve of 
 the lips. 
 
 "Indeed, I am not strong-minded, and do not 
 want to be," she hastened to say. "And I can- 
 not imagine why some people insist that I am 
 stubborn, unless it is because I stick up for my
 
 Cab No. 44 13 
 
 friends when I hear any one running them 
 down." 
 
 "Perhaps what they call stubbornness is really 
 firmness," Maxwell urged. "I think that firm- 
 ness in loyalty to one's friends is a very desir- 
 able quality. If that is what your people find 
 fault with, I trust that I may some day be one 
 of those on whose account your firmness will be 
 manifested." 
 
 Although she turned the subject at once, she 
 did not seem displeased, and after that they 
 chatted for an hour or so, gradually paying less 
 and less attention to what they said. There is 
 something in the mere physical presence of 
 young persons that seems to fill them with a 
 sense of happiness and content, regardless of 
 what they talk about. Probably that is why, 
 when they get older, they wonder what they 
 found to say to each other in all those hours 
 that they passed together. 
 
 As Helen, nestling into the comfortable old 
 arm-chair, sat there, looking sometimes into the 
 fire and sometimes at her companion, the flicker- 
 ing light from the grate set her off to advan- 
 tage. Maxwell, it must be confessed, looked at 
 her a good deal more than at the fire, his glance 
 sometimes following the outline of her arms, 
 sometimes lingering upon the contour of her
 
 14 Cab No. 44 
 
 face, the curve of her neck and the slant of her 
 shoulders, and then falling to the taper fingers 
 that were idly toying with the tassel on the arm 
 of her chair. 
 
 It was ten o'clock before the twelve boards 
 had been played "up and back," and the visitors 
 had acknowledged defeat by eight tricks. Max- 
 well rose to go when the card-players took their 
 departure, his adieux being smothered by an al- 
 tercation between the whist-players about the 
 play of the king of clubs on board five, which 
 had cost two tricks. 
 
 The door had scarcely closed behind Max- 
 well when Helen Ohlstrom turned to her 
 mother to remark enthusiastically that she 
 thought he was "awfully nice." And then she 
 took a long look at herself in the hall mirror, 
 and wondered what impression she had made 
 upon him. "I do hope he will come again," 
 she added to her mother. "You know I always 
 thought Englishmen were conceited, and that 
 they did not pay much attention to girls ; but he 
 is certainly very agreeable." 
 
 "I thought he was rather quiet at the table," 
 remarked Mrs. Ohlstrom. "He smiles respon- 
 sively when you speak to him, and he listens 
 very attentively; but I like people that talk a 
 little more. Those Englishmen all travel a
 
 Cab No. 44 15! 
 
 good deal, and he must have seen a lot of things 
 to talk about. What is he doing over here, I 
 wonder? Your uncle did not say." 
 
 "I'm sure I don't know. I didn't ask him." 
 
 "Didn't he say anything about himself or his 
 friends, or what he hoped to do here?" 
 
 Helen shook her head dreamily. She was 
 thinking of the way in which he had looked at 
 her, and of how well he seemed to understand 
 her. There was something in his manner that 
 was sympathetic, but she had to confess aloud 
 that she had done most of the talking herself, 
 and had told him "lots of things" without get- 
 ting any information in return. "I hate men 
 that are always talking about themselves, any- 
 way," she declared defensively when she saw a 
 puzzled look on her mother's face. 
 
 Before Mrs. Ohlstrom could reply her hus- 
 band joined them again, after a visit to the 
 library to get a cigar. 
 
 "That Maxwell seems a very decent sort of 
 fellow," he observed. "We must have him up 
 again. I suppose you asked him to call?" He 
 smiled at Helen as he asked her mother the 
 question. 
 
 "What is his business over here?" demanded 
 Mrs. Ohlstrom. Her husband stopped to think
 
 i'6 Cab No. 44 
 
 as he puffed at his cigar. Then he had to con- 
 fess : 
 
 "I don't know exactly. Fact is, I didn't ask 
 him. Seems queer kind of chap in some things. 
 After dinner I tried to draw him out a bit while 
 I finished my cigar. Spoke to him about Bill 
 Whittridge and Tom Richardson; but he didn't 
 seem to know either of them. Funny, too, they 
 are such close friends of Uncle Charlie's, you 
 know. He talks like a man that had something 
 on his mind." Seeing the look of inquiry on his 
 wife's face, he added hastily: "Oh, well, it's 
 all right. I have Charlie's word for him. Be- 
 sides, I think I know a man when I see one. I 
 have rather taken a fancy to Maxwell. Pe> 
 haps I'm prejudiced in his favor because I'm 
 English myself." 
 
 Mr. Ohlstrom, stout, bald-headed and good- 
 natured, dismissed the subject with a whiff of his 
 cigar and Helen kissed him good-night.
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 RETURNING to the hotel, and finding 
 it only eleven o'clock, Maxwell 
 strolled into the billiard room to 
 watch the players for awhile. The way in which 
 his face expressed his opinion of the various 
 shots showed that he was familiar with the prin- 
 ciples of the game, however strange the appear- 
 ance and proportions of the balls and table 
 might be. 
 
 He had not been sitting there more than a 
 few minutes when the man with the loud waist- 
 coat, who had directed him to Brooklyn earlier 
 in the evening, strolled into the room, and im- 
 mediately came over to where he was sitting. 
 
 "Got there all right, I hope?" 
 
 Maxwell smiled assent. The man's tone was 
 friendly without being unpleasantly familiar. It 
 had that peculiar American touch of sympa- 
 thetic interest which is distinguishable from idle 
 curiosity. 
 
 "Play billiards?" he asked presently, drop- 
 ping into the next seat. The question naturally 
 led to a discussion about the difference between 
 the American and the English games, and finally, 
 
 17
 
 i8 Cab No. 44 
 
 to the suggestion that the Englishman should 
 try his hand, they got a table. In spite of his 
 better knowledge of the carom game, the elder 
 man soon found that he was no match for his 
 younger opponent. After being beaten by about 
 fifteen points in fifty, he proposed that they 
 should adjourn for a drink. 
 
 Sitting at a table in the cafe, he ordered two 
 "horse's necks," insisting that the Englishman 
 should try that concoction, and emphasizing the 
 fact that it was much better than a Mamie Tay- 
 lor. After having drained his glass to the toast, 
 "Here's how," he became confidential, and in 
 the course of the few minutes that they sat there 
 he told his young companion all about his busi- 
 ness, his prospects, his wife and family, his likes 
 and dislikes in literature and the drama, science 
 and sport, and also his preferences in politics. 
 If his account of himself were true, he had pros- 
 pered in this world, and justified his own opinion 
 of himself when he declared that he was of 
 "some account" now. The only thing that he 
 forgot to mention was his name. He did not 
 seem at all curious about his companion's affairs, 
 but was evidently highly pleased at having found 
 so good a listener. 
 
 Upon their return to the billiard room every 
 table was engaged. Without a moment's hesi-
 
 Cab No. 44 19 
 
 tation the older man called a boy to bring his 
 coat and call a cab. "Let us go up to the club," 
 he said. "We can get all the tables we want 
 there, and I'll introduce you to a few more 
 American drinks." 
 
 The club to which they drove had a rather 
 pretentious entrance and brilliantly lighted re- 
 ception rooms, with a certain air about it which 
 suggested a hotel, and which would have told 
 an experienced clubman that it was one of those 
 associations whose membership is too large to 
 be select, yet not always large enough to pay 
 expenses. 
 
 "Let me see, I forget your name," the older 
 man remarked, as if he had known Hardy Max- 
 well for a week, but had let his name slip from 
 his memory for the moment. 
 
 The younger man hesitated for an instant, 
 and then said quietly, "Milton Fletcher," with 
 a slight bow. 
 
 The name was scribbled on the register as a 
 servant took Fletcher's coat, and the two men 
 went at once to the billiard room. 
 
 They had played only a few minutes when 
 an elderly man, who was puffing a fat cigar, ap- 
 proached the table. He was at once greeted 
 effusively by Maxwell's sponsor, who said: 
 
 "Hullo, Phillips! Shake hands with Mr.
 
 2O Cab No. 44 
 
 Fletcher. Phillips, old boy, Mr. Fletcher is a 
 visitor from England, and he can do you up at 
 this game with his left hand." 
 
 After that, it seemed impossible for any one 
 to come within ten feet of the billiard table with- 
 out being introduced. The Englishman put a 
 good face^on the matter, and managed to say 
 something each time in reply to the eternal ques- 
 tion, "What do you think of America?" or, 
 "How do you like this country?" Considering 
 that he had been in the country just three days, 
 the opinions that he expressed were certainly 
 flattering, even if they were based almost en- 
 tirely upon the results of a visit to Brooklyn. 
 
 Tiring of the billiards, the two men went into 
 the cafe, and there more promiscuous introduc- 
 tions took place. Every one had to shake hands 
 with Fletcher. Most of the men seemed quite 
 pleased to meet a friend of "Charlie," which 
 was the only name the man with the loud waist- 
 coat was addressed by in that gathering. The 
 clubmen who were introduced to Fletcher evi- 
 dently liked his looks. A tall, well set-up young 
 fellow in faultless evening dress has a great deal 
 in his favor in any company. 
 
 Among the men who were thus presented to 
 the young Englishman was a Mr. Paul May- 
 nard, a tall, fine-looking man with a gray
 
 Cab No. 44 21 
 
 mustache, a large nose, and a prominent chin. 
 Maynard was rather thin for his height, and had 
 a peculiar nervous little laugh, which, however, 
 went very well with his soft voice and his gentle 
 manners. He insisted on a drink, which they 
 had hardly swallowed when some one chal- 
 lenged "Charlie" to another game of billiards. 
 "Charlie" jumped up at once, excusing himself 
 with the remark: 
 
 "You know I'm a fiend at that game. Back 
 presently. Take care of Mr. Fletcher for me, 
 Maynard." 
 
 As soon as "Charlie" was gone, Maynard 
 asked his new acquaintance if he would not like 
 to see the building, and they went through it. 
 Maynard was pleased to find that Fletcher ap- 
 preciated what he saw. "You are the first 
 Englishman that I have taken over this house," 
 he said, "that did not confine his remarks to say- 
 ing we kept the place too beastly hot, or that 
 there was not enough ventilation." Then he 
 laughed, that little nervous laugh of his, and 
 proposed a return to the company in the cafe. 
 
 The men there talked about various things, 
 mostly business and politics, with an occasional 
 dash of sports. Maynard noticed that Fletcher 
 seemed to be better as a listener than as a talker. 
 He also observed that while the others were
 
 22 'Cab No. 44 
 
 very free in their expressions of opinions, 
 Fletcher preferred to agree rather than discuss. 
 When some man, with great vehemence, would 
 give the others the benefit of his ideas, Maynard 
 would catch Fletcher's eyes quietly fixed on the 
 speaker with a peculiar searching look, and a 
 smile which seemed to conceal itself. 
 
 Occasionally some one would put to Fletcher 
 a direct question that would have brought from 
 an American an illustration drawn from his own 
 experience; but the Englishman did not touch 
 upon his own affairs. Not once did he refer 
 to anything that had ever happened to him per- 
 sonally, or to any acquaintance that he might 
 have had, or to any place that he had ever been. 
 The skill with which he avoided such things ap- 
 peared to Maynard as remarkable. He knew 
 that Englishmen seldom discussed their private 
 affairs, even with their friends, never with 
 strangers. But such Englishmen as he had met 
 were always full of anecdote and reminiscence, 
 especially if any reference were made to places 
 and things "at home." 
 
 The others did not notice the Englishman's 
 reticence so much, probably because they were 
 not paying the same close and interested atten- 
 tion that Maynard gave him. Maynard had a 
 keen judgment of men, and he soon realized
 
 Cab No. 44 23 
 
 that the young man before him was a person of 
 much more than average intelligence. But there 
 was something about him that suggested, he 
 could not tell just why, the mysterious, the un- 
 canny. Maynard thought that his face, at cer- 
 tain unguarded moments, indicated secretive- 
 ness, if not actual cunning; and Maynard saw, 
 under the black mustache, the outline of the 
 firm lips, and under the pointed beard the con- 
 tour of the square, determined chin. 
 
 They say that love at first sight is a com- 
 mon thing between the sexes. One will some- 
 times find, even in the midst of the most prosaic 
 surroundings, a peculiar attraction between per- 
 sons of the same sex, and especially between men 
 of unusual intellectual power. They will pick 
 each other out of a crowd on board a ship, or a 
 company in a club, as unerringly as a squirrel 
 will pick out a tree that will furnish it with food, 
 no matter how many others may be in the woods. 
 
 Fletcher had fascinated Mr. Paul Maynard.
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 HELEN OHLSTROM was not disap- 
 pointed. Maxwell not only paid his 
 dinner call, but he called once or twice 
 afterward, and he made himself particularly 
 agreeable to all the members of the family. 
 Helen felt, as she had never felt with any other 
 man, that this Englishman understood her, that 
 he sympathized with her, and she caught her- 
 self telling him things that she had never spoken 
 of to any other person in the world; not even 
 to her old school-girl friend, Madge, who had 
 shared so many of her confidences, especially 
 about men. 
 
 Maxwell had known Helen for several weeks, 
 and their acquaintance had advanced far enough 
 for her to go out for a walk with him oc- 
 casionally, when one Sunday afternoon she 
 asked him if he would not like to go on an 
 exploring expedition to Coney Island. Finding 
 him quite willing, she went to get her hat and 
 furs. As they left her home she informed him 
 that winter was the best time to see Coney. 
 
 At Coney Island Maxwell did not care to 
 look at the tawdry plaster fronts of the build- 
 
 24
 
 Cab No. 44 25 
 
 ings, although he admitted that they might be 
 very pretty when they were all lit up. The busi- 
 ness part of the island is not attractive in 
 winter, and the girl and her companion made 
 their way along the sand toward Brighton and 
 Manhattan, intending to cross the old wooden 
 bridge at Sheepshead Bay and to ride home 
 from there. 
 
 It was a lovely day. One of those clear cold 
 days that give to the American fall the most 
 attractive climate in the world while it lasts. 
 There were many persons upon the beach and 
 along the roads, although the closely nailed-up 
 hotels were pictures of desolation where, only a 
 few weeks before, all had been music, and 
 flowers, and dining out of doors. The board- 
 walks, parts of which had been removed in prep- 
 aration for the onslaught of the waves from the 
 winter storms, were not inviting for pedestrians, 
 but all was well in the world so far as the girl 
 and the young Englishman were concerned. 
 Many eyes watched them admiringly as they 
 strode rapidly along. Once fairly out upon the 
 sands, beyond where the Brighton Hotel has 
 been dragged back six hundred feet to save it 
 from the sea, the winds from the ocean seemed 
 to affect the girl with something of their own 
 free and careless spirit, and she laughed with a
 
 26 Cab No. 44 
 
 childish abandonment to the pleasure of the 
 moment. 
 
 "Isn't this a delightful playday?" she ex- 
 claimed, taking a full deep breath. 
 
 "Are you enjoying it, even with such a dull 
 playfellow?" Maxwell inquired, suddenly realiz- 
 ing that he had been so preoccupied by his own 
 thoughts that he had said very little. 
 
 "Yes, I am having a very good time," she 
 answered. "But now that I think of it, I ought 
 to be quite on my dignity because you find so 
 little to say to me." 
 
 He did not reply for a moment. He looked 
 at her intently and the smile he gave her, ac- 
 companied by a slight closing of the eyes and a 
 loosening of the lips, might mean anything. 
 Somehow it checked her buoyancy until he 
 spoke. 
 
 "I supposed," he said, "that we had become 
 the sort of friends that understand each other 
 without the formality of speech, which conceals 
 so much more than it reveals, after all." 
 
 Helen shook her head, smiling the while. 
 
 "Of course you can read my thoughts, for I 
 am about as transparent and shallow as the edge 
 of a wave, but I confess I cannot understand 
 you. Many times when I think I am beginning
 
 Cab No. 44 27 
 
 to know you it seems as if you shut the door of 
 your real self." 
 
 Maxwell stopped to pick up a shell, and both 
 of them stood still for a moment, close to the 
 sea. He turned to her and said slowly and 
 gravely : 
 
 "I have never shut the door of my heart to 
 you, Miss Ohlstrom." 
 
 When she heard the words, uttered with evi- 
 dent purpose, Helen trembled with the realiza- 
 tion of a strange happiness. She knew that she 
 ought to rebuke this man, who was little more 
 than an acquaintance, for daring to speak to 
 her in such a manner, yet she could not believe 
 that he was taking advantage of the liberty ac- 
 corded to American girls. She tried to summon 
 the same feeling of resentment that he had 
 awakened on the evening of their first meeting. 
 She really meant to reprove him, but despite a 
 new sensation of timidity she looked into his 
 face, and what she saw there was so convinc- 
 ing that she could only drop her eyes to hide 
 their tell-tale acknowledgment of her trust in 
 him. 
 
 A few moments later and they were walking 
 on together with the cool sea breeze blowing 
 in their faces. It was not until half an hour 
 later, when they were chatting about some trivial
 
 28 Cab No. 44 
 
 thing, that the girl suddenly became uncomfort- 
 ably conscious that she had let this Englishman 
 assume the position of a possible suitor. 
 
 Helen Ohlstrom had studied Maxwell closely. 
 She had watched the curious smile that had at- 
 tracted Maynard's attention, and it always re- 
 called her father's remark, "Queer chap in some 
 things." She realized that she knew nothing 
 of his business in America, or the probable dura- 
 tion of his stay. He seemed to have few friends 
 in New York. Perhaps that was the real reason 
 why he devoted so much of his time to her. 
 Her reflections were suddenly interrupted by 
 Maxwell's saying: 
 
 "I attended a dinner rather unexpectedly last 
 evening in a restaurant and had rather a 
 curious experience." 
 
 "Tell me about it," Helen replied rather 
 absent-mindedly. 
 
 "I do not exactly know how to tell you," Max- 
 well began hesitatingly, "but perhaps you will 
 forgive me for describing the row, as I thought 
 it very amusing. You see, it was Mr. Maynard 
 who got me into it." 
 
 "Oh ! I hope you did not get into a row in a 
 public restaurant!" 
 
 "Oh, no ! It was not the row he got me into; 
 but the dinner, you know. I was playing bil-
 
 Cab No. 44 29 
 
 liards with him at the club you know he put 
 me up for two weeks when some one rang him 
 up on the 'phone and asked him to fill out a 
 little dinner party. When he told them he had 
 me on his hands, they said to bring me along." 
 
 "But from what you have told me, Mr. May- 
 nard and his friends should be nice people. 
 How did they get you into a row?" Helen ques- 
 tioned with concern. 
 
 "None better. You see, I never saw Maynard 
 before I got into conversation with a man while 
 we were watching a game of billiards at the 
 hotel one evening," Maxwell answered. "You 
 Americans seem to make acquaintances so freely ! 
 After we had played a game together we talked 
 awhile over one of those queer drinks with out- 
 landish names. Then he wanted another game, 
 but we could not get a table, so he took me up 
 to his club, and there he introduced me to every- 
 body, right and left. I never dreamed of such 
 promiscuous introductions as you make in 
 America without asking the consent of either 
 party. Among the men I met that evening was 
 Mr. Maynard; but to save my life I am not able 
 to recall the name of the man that took me to 
 the club, except that his first name was Charlie." 
 
 "How funny!"
 
 30 Cab No. 44 
 
 "Yes. I must look up the register some day 
 and find out who he was." 
 
 "Well, go on with your story," the girl urged. 
 
 "I am coming to that now. I stayed there 
 pretty late that night and Mr. Maynard, who 
 seemed a good sort, asked me to dine with him 
 there some evening, and then he put me up for 
 two weeks. When that time is up he says he 
 will get me put up at another club, and then at 
 another, as long as I stay. Really, it is a charm- 
 ing country! One could not get into clubs as 
 easily as that in England, you know." 
 
 "But what about the dinner? These prelim- 
 inaries are very interesting, but I want to know 
 about the trouble they had." 
 
 Maxwell hesitated. 
 
 "Just fancy a man telling a girl what I have 
 begun to tell you, all about a jolly row," he 
 said. "Really I must not." 
 
 "Really you must," Helen insisted. "I want 
 to know what sort of Americans you are meet- 
 ing. Besides, you have aroused my curiosity." 
 She smiled at him ; but a moment later her face 
 became serious and she watched him furtively. 
 
 "Well," he went on, "the dinner was in a 
 private room and there were only five of us. 
 The host was a Dr. Ramie, but the most interest- 
 ing man to me was a Mr. George Hartley."
 
 Cab No. 44 31 
 
 "You don't mean the president of the Hard- 
 ware Trust, or something of that kind?" Helen 
 interrupted; "I think my father knew him in a 
 business way." 
 
 "I believe Mr. Hartley has something to do 
 with trusts. And there was a Mr. Frank Doug- 
 las, a very " 
 
 "Why, you don't mean the Wall Street Doug- 
 las, that the papers say has been coining money 
 lately?" 
 
 "Probably. I didn't ask particulars; but 
 neither of them seemed to think much of twenty 
 thousand dollars. Mr. Maynard, you see, is a 
 retired broker, and is still, I gather, the lead- 
 ing authority on the correctness of the form of 
 bonds, or something of that kind. That is how 
 he comes to know all these rich men, I suppose. 
 
 "Well, Dr. Ramie met us in the hall. It 
 seems that he did not know that Mr. Douglas 
 had trimmed Mr. Hartley pretty severely in the 
 stock market not long before, or he would not 
 have invited them together. Two or three 
 others were to have been there from Baltimore, 
 but they missed their train or something. The 
 moment Hartley arrived and found Douglas 
 there he wanted to go home again, and it was 
 to save his dinner party that the doctor rang up 
 Maynard. He asked us to sandwich ourselves
 
 32 Cab No. 44 
 
 between the two at table, and to obviate, as 
 much as possible, any necessity for their speak- 
 ing to each other." 
 
 "What a congenial party!" 
 
 "Yes, wasn't it? The doctor's plan was all 
 right during the dinner itself, but after the 
 coffee and cigars came in the conversation be- 
 came more general, and it soon became very evi- 
 dent that these two were not inclined to endorse 
 each other's opinions on any subject under the 
 sun. Candidly, I think that Mr. Hartley had 
 had about as much champagne as was good for 
 him." 
 
 "Isn't it dreadful how men drink when they 
 get together?" 
 
 "Well, the rest of us were all perfectly sober. 
 At least I am sure I was," Maxwell smiled 
 quietly. 
 
 "But how did they get into a fight if you were 
 all sober?" 
 
 "There was no fight. It was only a row. All 
 talk and bluster, and offers to bet thousands of 
 dollars on any absurd proposition that might be 
 made." 
 
 "How lovely! And you enjoy that kind of 
 thing better than calling on me?" she asked 
 lightly. "I had a feeling that you would come 
 to Brooklyn last evening."
 
 Cab No. 44 33 
 
 "It is hardly fair to put it that way; but to 
 be brutally frank, I enjoyed it last night im- 
 mensely. It was so American and so enlighten- 
 ing." 
 
 "And I suppose I am not American and 
 enlightening?" She was going to say "interest- 
 ing" at first. She tossed her head and looked 
 across the bay at the distant outlines of Sandy 
 Hook, while he hastened to say: 
 
 "Yes, you are enlightening very! But I 
 thought you wanted to hear the story?" he re- 
 turned with a look that told her she was alto- 
 gether charming. 
 
 "I do," she declared, turning away to hide 
 the answering blush. 
 
 "To cut it short, the row came to a head when 
 they got to talking about the failure of Mul- 
 berry Street to find Bradley the murderer." 
 
 "Mulberry Street? What is that?" 
 
 "I mean the police, of course. We always 
 speak of Scotland Yard doing such things, you 
 know ; so I naturally thought of Mulberry Street 
 over here, don't you know." He stopped short 
 after this explanation, as if he had been rather 
 confused by the question. 
 
 "And how did your friends propose to find 
 Bradley?" 
 
 "Oh, they had no proposal to make on that
 
 34 Cab No. 44 
 
 subject; but Mr. Hartley, who was getting more 
 hilarious every minute, talked boastingly about 
 'the finest police force in the world.' He said 
 it was only a question of days until they would 
 find the fugitive, and all that sort of thing, don't 
 you know, while Mr. Douglas pooh-poohed the 
 whole thing, and said that if the police were left 
 to themselves they could not catch anybody." 
 
 "But are they not always left to themselves? 
 Who helps them?" Helen demanded. 
 
 "Why, my dear girl I beg pardon, Miss 
 Ohlstrom why, I mean you see Scotland 
 Yard no, I mean the police depend more 
 upon their previous acquaintance with crooks 
 and upon a knowledge of their ways and haunts 
 than upon simple detective skill. The police are 
 not so clever smart, I think you call it as 
 people think they are." Maxwell smiled with 
 an expression in his eyes that had a meaning 
 she could not comprehend, and that peculiar, 
 cunning look which she did not exactly like 
 came over his face. 
 
 "If the police had nothing to guide them but 
 the place that was robbed," he went on, "very 
 few thieves would ever be caught. They recog- 
 nize in the manner in which the house is en- 
 tered, in the careful way the shades are pinned 
 up, instead of being rolled, or something like
 
 Cab No. 44 35 
 
 that, that the job is the work of a certain man. 
 Then they locate the man they suspect, and try 
 to find out where he was that night and what he 
 has been doing since. In this, other thieves 
 often furnish valuable assistance and informa- 
 tion; sometimes to avoid trouble for themselves 
 in minor cases. That is where your common 
 criminal is a fool. He should work alone," and 
 again the same smile stole over his face. 
 
 "And do murderers get caught because the 
 police recognize their special style of work?" 
 asked Helen, laughing at the droll idea. 
 
 "Not exactly," he admitted with a smile. 
 "When a man is murdered the police try to pick 
 out the person who is most likely to have com- 
 mitted the crime. They look for a motive, and 
 from the motive they reason out the man, and 
 then they watch him, and question all his 
 friends, especially if he has a sweetheart. It is 
 his friends that usually betray him. Many a 
 man has been hung by his sweetheart." 
 
 The girl shuddered and involuntarily drew 
 her furs closer around her. "We have wandered 
 a long way from the dinner," she remarked. 
 
 "So we have," he agreed. "Well, let us finish 
 it up. Douglas insisted that the police could 
 never catch a thief unless he were a well-known 
 criminal," he went on. "Members of newly
 
 36 Cab No. 44 
 
 formed gangs, he said, were hard to trace. He 
 cited cases of the sons of respectable parents 
 who had committed one burglary after another, 
 without even being suspected, until they were 
 accidentally caught in the act, or the plunder 
 was traced to them. Hartley laughed at him, 
 and said the police could catch any thief in three 
 days if they were in earnest about it. But 
 Douglas maintained that if an absolutely un- 
 known criminal, a newcomer in the world of 
 crime, were to commit a robbery without hav- 
 ing to take into his confidence any accomplices, 
 there would be absolutely no possibility of catch- 
 ing him except by tracing the stolen goods. 
 
 "That made Hartley positively abusive. He 
 talked of betting unheard-of amounts on the 
 skill of the police. Finally Douglas took out 
 his note-book and offered to make a straight 
 bet of ten thousand dollars that if there was 
 any way in which Mr. Hartley could arrange 
 to have a robbery committed by an amateur, 
 so that the amateur should have twelve hours' 
 start of the police, they could not catch him in a 
 month, to say nothing of three days. Dr. 
 Ramie, the host, seemed to think that Mr. Doug- 
 las was about right, and offered to bet a hundred 
 the same way." 
 
 "And I suppose you wanted to bet too ? Oh,
 
 Cab No. 44 37 
 
 but you men are dreadful when you get by your- 
 selves, drinking and gambling and betting on 
 things," exclaimed Helen. 
 
 "Indeed, I should not have tried to tell this. 
 I had no idea it would sound so bad," Maxwell 
 cried. "Forgive me! I don't see why I ever 
 referred to the incident, yet something has com- 
 pelled me to confide in you. Something tells 
 me it may be of interest to you some day. Some- 
 times you seem more like a boy comrade than a 
 girl." 
 
 "Don't interrupt yourself," Helen com- 
 manded firmly. "I can listen, even though I 
 confess 'to a feeling of of truly feminine revul- 
 sion." 
 
 She trusted him, she told herself, yet not an 
 hour after that self-revelation on the sands she 
 was made keenly conscious of the mystery of 
 personality which so often disturbed her. The 
 door of his heart might be open to her, but the 
 way to the door was a labyrinth. 
 
 "I confess I should have backed Douglas my- 
 self; but there was no actual bet made," Max- 
 well went on. "They simply agreed to think 
 it over for a week, probably to let Mr. Hart- 
 ley cool off a bit. We broke up with the under- 
 standing that we should meet there again next 
 Saturday, and that if any one had anything prao-
 
 38 Cab No. 44 
 
 tical to suggest that would settle the bet, each 
 of them would put up ten thousand on the 
 result." 
 
 "And you are going to be a party to such a 
 gambling transaction? And bet on robbers 
 being too clever for the police?" Helen de- 
 manded with severe accusation in her voice. 
 Why, robbers sometimes kill people when they 
 are resisted, don't they? Why did you let your- 
 self be drawn into such things?" 
 
 "Really, I think it is extremely interesting, 
 all the more so because it is between those two. 
 I am quite sure, if I am any judge of human 
 nature, that the police would not lack assistance, 
 financial and otherwise, if Mr. Hartley had ten 
 thousand at stake and Mr. Douglas was the 
 prospective loser. I fancy a trial of that kind 
 would be as exciting as a horse race. I should 
 certainly put a bit on myself." 
 
 She turned the conversation to other matters, 
 and they soon found themselves at the bridge 
 over Sheepshead Bay. The dinner story was 
 still running through her head, but she made 
 no comment upon it until they were nearly home. 
 
 "I don't know what to think of you," she 
 said suddenly with assumed carelessness, "but 
 I suppose I shall ask you in to tea. Perhaps I
 
 Cab No. 44 39 
 
 can get back my first good impression of you 
 before you return to the city; but not a word 
 before papa and mamma about that horrid bet- 
 ting and robbery business."
 
 IN telling Helen Ohlstrom the story of his 
 first meeting with Maynard, there was 
 one little detail that Maxwell did not 
 mention. This was that in introducing himself 
 to the stranger in the billiard room at the hotel 
 the name that had been given was Milton 
 Fletcher; not Hardy Maxwell. By that name, 
 as we have seen, he had been introduced to 
 every one at the club. By that name he was 
 known to Paul Maynard and to all Maynard's 
 friends. 
 
 Another trifle that he had overlooked in the 
 narrative was that he had changed his hotel next 
 day, and had registered as Milton Fletcher at 
 the new one, so that when Maynard called for 
 him or rang him up, it was Mr. Fletcher that 
 was asked for and that responded, just as it was 
 Mr. Milton Fletcher that was at the dinner. 
 
 A day or two after the "row" that had been 
 described to Helen, Maynard called for Fletcher 
 at his hotel, and together they went up to the 
 club to dine. Of course the chief topic of con- 
 versation between them was the tilt between 
 
 40
 
 Cab No. 44 '41! 
 
 Hartley and Douglas, which Maynard seemed 
 to regard as a huge joke. 
 
 "Ten thousand dollars seemed to be a mere 
 bagatelle to them," remarked Fletcher thought- 
 fully. "I have heard about large wagers on the 
 other side, you know, and I believe that it is 
 true that some very large bets are occasionally 
 made; but to be brought face to face with 
 twenty-thousand-dollar bets in this way is rather 
 a new sensation, I confess." 
 
 "Ten thousand, my dear fellow! Why, 
 Hartley must have an income of nearly half a 
 million, and as for Douglas, he is a plunger in 
 everything. But, I say! Wasn't Hartley full, 
 and didn't they go for each other? And did you 
 ever hear of such ridiculous propositions as they 
 made? To get some one to rob a bank wasn't 
 it? and then run away and hide and see if the 
 police could catch him !" 
 
 Paul Maynard slapped his leg and laughed 
 aloud at the very recollection of it. 
 
 "I took it that Douglas was quite in 
 earnest " 
 
 "Oh, so he was, my dear fellow! Quite! 
 When Douglas takes out that note-book of his 
 and puts down a transaction involving cash, it 
 stands; as you would find out if you told him 
 you would be willing to pay a hundred and
 
 42 Cab No. 44 
 
 twelve for Canadian Express stock, as I did 
 once. I got the stock next day at noon." 
 
 "And I also took it," continued Fletcher, as 
 if not noticing the interruption, "that Mr. Hart- 
 ley would spend as much again to help the police 
 if he were betting on them. Money is a power- 
 ful aid in such matters; it enables one to cover 
 so much ground at once. That is why private 
 detectives fail. They cannot afford to put a 
 hundred men on the job at once. Many a man 
 has escaped because his pursuers had not money 
 enough to follow up all the clues, and then a 
 reward is such a powerful inducement to an offi- 
 cer to concentrate his efforts and let less impor- 
 tant things slide." 
 
 "I did not think of that, the whole thing 
 being a joke. But of course you are quite right. 
 I see you are a good judge of human nature; 
 at least with regard to Hartley," Maynard 
 added musingly. "He is one of the kind that 
 doesn't let anything stand in his way when the 
 dollars are at stake. But here we are at the 
 club." 
 
 Just as they reached the top step the sound 
 of a cab door slamming made them turn round. 
 
 "By Jove! Here's Douglas himself," said 
 Maynard, holding open the door for him. 
 
 "You fellows here?" remarked Douglas, nod-
 
 Cab No. 44 43 
 
 ding to each in turn. "Dining, I suppose? 
 Sorry I can't join you, but I have a private 
 dinner upstairs." 
 
 "Awfully sorry, old chap," Maynard an- 
 swered. "We were just talking about that joke 
 of yours with Hartley, you know, when you 
 offered to bet him a million." 
 
 "Joke nothing!" blurted Douglas as he 
 stepped into the elevator, slipping his coat check 
 into his pocket. "You are coming up to 
 Green's Saturday night, are you not? And 
 your friend? Let me see; I forget the name. 
 Oh, yes; Mr. Fletcher. I shall have something 
 to propose on Saturday that will make old Hart- 
 ley think twice about backing the omnipotence 
 of the police force of this town" ; and he waved 
 his hand to them through the elevator door as 
 he went up. 
 
 "By Jove ! I believe he is really in earnest," 
 said Maynard with a laugh as he and Fletcher 
 strolled toward the dining-room. 
 
 After they were comfortably seated and had 
 ordered their cocktails and scanned the menu 
 critically, Fletcher reverted to the subject which 
 was evidently uppermost in his mind. 
 
 "Yes, I think Douglas is quite in earnest, 
 and what is more, I think I could help him a
 
 44 Cab No. 44 
 
 bit, don't you know, with a suggestion or two. 
 Were you ever hunted?" 
 
 The suddenness of the question made May- 
 nard turn red in the face. Seeing his embar- 
 rassment, Fletcher hastened to put the idea he 
 had in his mind in another way. 
 
 "Did you ever shoot without a dog?" 
 "Why, no. I'm not fond of hunting." 
 "I don't mean hunting. I mean birds." 
 "Well, we call that hunting in this country, 
 you know; because the birds are so scarce that 
 we have to hunt for them. But what has that 
 to do with Douglas?" 
 
 "I should judge that the hunt he proposes 
 would be quite as exciting and even more full 
 of surprises than shooting without a dog." 
 
 "But you don't for a moment suppose that 
 such a thing as that will ever be attempted?" 
 
 "Such a thing as what? As settling that 
 wager? Why, yes. I rather hope it will. At 
 least, if a practical scheme could be found for 
 the test, don't you know." 
 
 "Really! You amuse me. What singular 
 ideas of sport you Englishmen have, to be sure. 
 Of course, as you say, it would be exciting if 
 one could see anything of the chase. But simply 
 to know that a bank had been robbed and to 
 wait for the robber to be caught does not strike
 
 Cab No. 44 45 
 
 me as particularly exciting. All you could do 
 would be to read the paper every morning, and 
 then you might miss the 'tern." Maynard 
 paused a moment as if pondering over some- 
 thing. 
 
 "You asked me a very curious question just 
 now," he went on, "so I will tell you a little 
 story. It's not a secret, as I have told it sev- 
 eral times lately. I knew a young man that was 
 held up by three ruffians when he was on his 
 way to see a girl that lived out in the suburbs of 
 a certain town, and he shot one of them plumb 
 in the breast with a forty-five Colt's. The fel- 
 low drew up his right leg sure sign that he was 
 shot through the heart and staggered back- 
 ward about twenty feet before he fell. Every- 
 body else ran away. Well, the young man read 
 the morning papers behind locked doors for 
 three weeks after that, so that no one should 
 see him start and tremble or turn pale when he 
 came across the announcement of the finding of 
 the body. 
 
 "Every policeman he met fascinated him. 
 One day, turning round after a look in a shop 
 window, he saw a policeman looking at him 
 from across the street. He stood stock-still 
 until the officer came over to him and asked if
 
 46 Cab No. 44 
 
 he wanted anything. That woke him up and 
 he gradually got over it." 
 
 "And what about the man he shot?" 
 
 "Never heard a word of it from that day to 
 this, although it is twenty years and more now. 
 I suppose there is no harm in finishing the story. 
 It was I that shot him. That is why I was 
 rather astonished when you asked me if I was 
 ever hunted." 
 
 "Oh!" said Fletcher, half to himself, as if 
 suddenly enlightened about something. 
 
 The conversation turned to other subjects, 
 and after the dinner had passed off very pleas- 
 antly the two men went into the billiard room 
 for their usual game together. About eleven 
 o'clock, as they sat down in the cafe for a night- 
 cap, Douglas stepped out of the elevator and 
 waved his hand to them. 
 
 "Don't forget Saturday," he called out. 
 
 "Wait a minute, old chap. Come over here," 
 Maynard called in return, and as Douglas 
 joined them and accepted the invitation to a 
 drink, Maynard added quizzically: "Do you 
 really mean that you are in earnest about that 
 bet with Hartley?" 
 
 "Never more in my life." 
 
 "Did you ever!" laughed Maynard. "Upon 
 my soul, but I believe you mean it."
 
 Cab No. 44 47 
 
 "If you will allow me," interrupted Fletcher, 
 "I think I can suggest a plan by which the 
 matter might be settled to the satisfaction of 
 those betting on it. That is, of course, if you 
 have not already settled on a plan of your own." 
 
 "You are the very man we are looking for," 
 said Douglas promptly. "I have thought of 
 several schemes, but the hitch is a man to carry 
 them through. The executive end is always the 
 hitch, you know. I know hundreds of men with 
 the gray matter in their brains full of money- 
 making projects; but there is not enough red 
 blood in their hearts to carry them out." 
 
 "You refer, of course, to the difficulty of find- 
 ing an amateur criminal that would consent to 
 be hunted. What would you be willing to pay a 
 good man?" Fletcher inquired. 
 
 "If he succeeded, any part of the ten thou- 
 sand or all of it. I never split hairs in such 
 matters. I would sooner spend ten thousand 
 more than have Hartley beat me out." 
 
 "That is a very liberal proposition, Mr. 
 Douglas," remarked Fletcher slowly, rubbing 
 his hands. "On Saturday you shall not only 
 have the scheme, but the man to carry it through, 
 provided my plan meets with your approval." 
 
 Both men looked at Fletcher in astonishment
 
 48 Cab No. 44 
 
 as he rose from his seat, wished them good- 
 night, and left the cafe. 
 
 "That fellow is the real thing," remarked 
 Douglas, draining his glass. "I could use him 
 in my business."
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 THE next afternoon, when Hardy Max- 
 well called on Helen Ohlstrom for 
 what had now become an almost 
 daily walk, it was evident to her that there was 
 something on his mind. Even while he talked 
 to her he was apparently turning over in his 
 thoughts something quite foreign to the subject 
 in hand. 
 
 She knew he was fond of long walks, and she 
 had planned a little excursion for that afternoon. 
 It was up through the woods to the north of 
 the city, where the late October foliage was now 
 at its best, and where the views of the Hudson 
 added both life and peace to the scene. It was 
 one of those exhilarating days that make one 
 feel good to be alive, and every fiber in her body 
 seemed to respond to nature's mood. 
 
 She tried to express this feeling to Maxwell, 
 but could elicit nothing from him in return. 
 Piqued for the moment, she became silent her- 
 self. Maxwell, apparently becoming suddenly 
 conscious of their mutual silence and perhaps 
 realizing that it was his fault, turned to her 
 and said quietly: "Forgive me; but nature 
 
 49
 
 50 Cab No. 44 
 
 seems to have a very different effect upon me 
 from that which it has upon you. At least that 
 is so to-day." 
 
 "So you did hear what I said, then?" she an- 
 swered. 
 
 "Oh, yes. I heard you." 
 
 "Well, let us talk about something. I never 
 saw you in such a poky mood before," she said, 
 smiling at him archly. "Suppose you tell me 
 what you think about America by this time. 
 Let us see. How long have you been here? 
 Several weeks now?" 
 
 "America is certainly a great country," he 
 said musingly, as if the subject appealed to him. 
 "Every one seems to get on. I have heard of 
 several good openings for a man with a little 
 capital, but not so many for simple ability, un- 
 less you call fifteen dollars a week an oppor- 
 tunity. As a starter in life in New York I 
 would take ten thousand dollars capital in 
 preference to the undiscovered or still untried 
 abilities of an Edison. When you say to a 
 man, 'I could be very useful to you in your 
 business if you gave me a chance,' he listens as 
 if you were telling him that you would reform 
 if it were no longer necessary to steal, or as if 
 you were talking about the possibility of selling 
 goods in Mars ; but when you say you are look-
 
 Cab No. 44 51 
 
 ing for a chance to invest a little capital, he is 
 all attention in a moment." 
 
 "Don't you think ability will get the capital 
 some day if the man is the right sort?" As 
 Helen asked the question she turned and looked 
 him full in the face. It was a look that would 
 have encouraged any young man. She was 
 wondering to herself if it was the want of 
 capital that was worrying him. 
 
 "Oh, I suppose so," he answered, smiling 
 back at her. "You American girls seem to know 
 how to spur men on to all kinds of efforts. It 
 reminds me of the knights of old, none of whom 
 ever seemed able to do anything worth while 
 unless some woman tied a favor to spear or 
 shield." He hesitated a moment. Then he 
 said with much seriousness : "Do you know 
 that I believe I could accomplish almost any- 
 thing in this country if I might wear your 
 favor?" 
 
 "Surely, I shall never find a knight more mys- 
 terious," she answered, with a smile. "In the 
 ourneys I believe it was the masked prince who 
 .Iways won the favors of the fairest ladies." 
 
 "Yes," he agreed. "The unknown horseman 
 Kvho had ridden from a far country entered the 
 lists with his visor down and was always the 
 victor. At least, that is the way things went
 
 52 Cab No. 44 
 
 in the romances I used to read when I was a 
 boy. The lady of his heart recognized him as 
 her true knight even before she saw his face, 
 and" he smiled teasingly "she trusted him 
 absolutely." 
 
 "But sometimes she was in doubt," Helen 
 urged. "She had to battle with misgivings and 
 false reports which tried her constancy." 
 
 Helen spoke in an even tone, but avoided 
 looking at him, so that he might not judge how 
 much she meant him to accept as personal. 
 
 "Could you not trust a knight who is not a 
 prince, but simply a soldier of fortune?" he 
 asked. 
 
 "Even if he kept his visor down?" she 
 questioned. 
 
 She laughed at her own sally, and they walked 
 on for quite a distance without speaking. As 
 she swung along the country road, her cheeks 
 aglow with the fresh air and exercise, she made 
 a charming picture which attracted many a 
 sidelong glance from her companion. At a place 
 where a stone wall, covered with a tangle of 
 brown vines, invited them to stop for a few mo- 
 ments to enjoy the view of the autumn world, 
 Maxwell assisted Helen to a seat. Standing be- 
 fore her he said: 
 
 "I must beg your pardon for presuming to
 
 Cab No. 44 53 
 
 hope that you might let me be your knight. I 
 might have known that some real prince already 
 wears your colors and holds the pledge of your 
 constancy." 
 
 His serious manner and his searching glance 
 were such that she could not deceive him, even 
 though she might have liked to make him suffer 
 a little from the same uncertainty that vexed her 
 when she thought of him. 
 
 "Neither prince nor knight has the right to 
 wear token of mine," she declared truthfully, 
 looking away from him. 
 
 "Then give me the right," he pleaded. 
 
 "That would mean that I must have too 
 much faith in you," Helen declared, shaking her 
 head. "If I once committed myself to any 
 knight I should have to believe in him abso- 
 lutely, even though all sorts of misgivings came 
 to me. Remember that you shook my confi- 
 dence in you when you told me that dinner 
 story." 
 
 She retained the bantering tone, although she 
 knew he had already won something more than 
 faith and friendship. 
 
 "If I could find a lady who would remain un- 
 moved by appearances or by ill report," he said, 
 "if I could win her while I still wore my visor
 
 '54 Cab No. 44 
 
 down, I think I could perform deeds well worthy 
 of the cause." 
 
 "Why, you are talking in exact story-book 
 style. I can almost imagine that your walking 
 stick is a lance." The girl laughed as she slid 
 from the wall and untied a bunch of violets 
 that she wore at her belt, bound with a purple 
 ribbon. Hastily disengaging the flowers, she 
 tied the ribbon to the handle of his stick with 
 mock solemnity. 
 
 "Now you have committed yourself," Max- 
 well asserted. "I am not a knight who can per- 
 mit any lady to laugh at him. I accept your 
 token, and shall hold you to the pledge it 
 signifies." 
 
 "It is all a jest," Helen hastened to say, feel- 
 ing strangely uncomfortable. "I forgot that I 
 was talking to an Englishman who does not 
 understand our American humor." 
 
 She assumed her most dignified manner as 
 they turned back toward the city. 
 
 "Did you mean what you said about believ- 
 ing in a person, even though all sorts of bad re- 
 ports might be brought to you?" Maxwell in- 
 quired after they had been silent a long time. 
 
 "I was referring to an imaginary knight," 
 Helen answered, with her chin in the air. 
 
 "Let us take the case of a person not im-
 
 Cab No. 44 55 
 
 aginary. If a man won your friendship, would 
 you be able to keep your faith in his integrity, 
 even though you might hear rumors that were 
 derogatory?" 
 
 Again she felt that he was hiding something. 
 She was suddenly afraid of him, for she felt 
 that he had gained a subtle mastery over her. 
 She would have liked to snatch the purple rib- 
 bon from his walking stick, but he was wary 
 and kept it well out of reach. As she did not 
 answer his questions, he answered them himself. 
 
 "You are like every one else, I see, very 
 modest about your own good qualities, uncon- 
 scious of them perhaps. I knew the first time 
 I ever saw you that you were not the kind of 
 girl to be changed by anything others might 
 say after you had once made up your mind. If 
 I once gained your confidence, if by some miracle 
 I could win your trust, nothing but my own 
 actions would ever alter you. Am I not right?" 
 
 "Oh, I suppose so," she said lightly. "I 
 have had some very good men friends. Some- 
 how, I am very lucky that way. Every man I 
 have known has been nice and true and straight." 
 
 "Indeed ! You are very fortunate. Few girls 
 as attractive as you are escape the attention of 
 a few black sheep." 
 
 "I never knew any one who could tell the mut-
 
 56 Cab No. 44 
 
 ton of a black sheep from the mutton of a white 
 one. I suppose it is the same way with people. 
 Beneath the surface there is not much differ- 
 ence; but I hate those people that are always 
 ready to believe anything bad they may hear 
 about their friends, and there is nothing makes 
 me so mad as to have them repeat it at every 
 opportunity before they are sure it is true or 
 even then." 
 
 "But it is because they think it is true that 
 they believe it to be their duty to warn you 
 against the black sheep," he urged, smiling at 
 her earnestness. 
 
 "Yes. Some men have a nasty habit of warn- 
 ing girls against their men friends. Black sheep 
 don't bite any more than white ones. It is the 
 dogs that are supposed to take care of the sheep 
 that bite, and it is usually the white sheep that 
 get bitten. Whenever a person tells me some- 
 thing nasty about a mutual friend, I always 
 think of the way they will probably talk about 
 me some day." 
 
 "Then you admit that I estimated your char- 
 acter aright?" he said, smiling at her admiringly. 
 
 "I told you once before that I was very 
 transparent and shallow," she answered, with- 
 out looking at him. "But we have been talk- 
 ing like two silly children." The seriousness
 
 Cab No. 44 57 
 
 of his manner disturbed her somehow. With a 
 woman's intuition she understood that he had 
 the power to make her suffer. It was all very 
 well to amuse herself with a handsome English- 
 man, but had she not been rather reckless of 
 consequences? Had she not presumed on the 
 fact that her parents had received Hardy Max- 
 well into the family almost on the footing of a 
 relative? It was as if he were at least the cousin 
 who had sent him to them. Her father and 
 mother had always guarded her with old-fash- 
 ioned vigilance, and she had enjoyed the un- 
 , wonted freedom of the last few weeks. She 
 realized that she could not tell them just how 
 far her acquaintance with Hardy Maxwell had 
 progressed. With a flush of shame she remem- 
 bered how she had urged him to refrain from 
 mentioning the dinner story and the betting in- 
 cidents connected with it which had shocked her 
 so much. 
 
 A few minutes later and they were back in 
 the Brooklyn drawing-room, where they found 
 Mr. and Mrs. Ohlstrom awaiting them with the 
 sort of impatience that comes of a delay of the 
 dinner hour.
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 SATURDAY night came, and the others 
 were at Green's on time; but Hartley 
 did not appear. The proprietor was 
 very attentive, as usual, and assured them that 
 he would see to it himself that the dinner should 
 not spoil while they were trying to locate Mr. 
 Hartley by telephoning to various places. Ke 
 asked Fletcher how the American restaurants 
 pleased him, and bowed at the compliment he 
 drew forth, afterward paying particular atten- 
 tion to the young Englishman. 
 
 When Hartley was finally reached at one of 
 his clubs, he seemed to be quite taken by sur- 
 prise at the announcement that Mr. Frank 
 Douglas was on hand with a proposition that 
 would settle that little bet. Dr. Ramie was at 
 the telephone. 
 
 "Why, you don't mean that Douglas was in 
 earnest about any such absurd proposition as, 
 that?" came from the other end. 
 
 "He certainly was. You know he booked 
 the bet at the time, on condition that some 
 scheme to decide it should be forthcoming by 
 
 58
 
 Cab No. 44 59 
 
 to-night. Well, he is here with his scheme and 
 his check. I am to be the stakeholder." 
 
 "But, my dear fellow, you must be all crazy. 
 Why, the whole thing was just a little after- 
 dinner argument." 
 
 "I hardly think you can say that, Mr. Hart- 
 ley. You made the proposition yourself. At 
 least, you were the one that offered to back the 
 police for any amount. When Mr. Douglas 
 said he would take you on for ten thousand, 
 you seemed only too willing, so he booked the 
 bet. I believe the first idea was that you were 
 to suggest a test; but Douglas and Fletcher 
 seem to have saved you that trouble, and " 
 
 "Fletcher? Who's Fletcher?" 
 
 The doctor explained, adding: "We are all 
 here waiting for you to hear the scheme and put 
 up your money." 
 
 "You don't mean it? Why, it's the most ex- 
 traordinary thing I ever heard of. Nothing but 
 after-dinner talk, my dear fellow, I assure you." 
 
 "Then you have lost faith in the police, and 
 want to back out?" Dr. Ramie said this with a 
 wink to himself. 
 
 "Back out ! In a bet with Douglas? Never 1 
 Not on your life! Say, I cannot possibly get 
 away from this crowd before eleven. Eat your
 
 60 Cab No. 44 
 
 dinner and go to the show or something, and 
 I'll meet you later, anywhere you say." 
 
 "Why, it's after eight now. We'll stay here. 
 Get here as soon as you can." 
 
 "All right. But say: not a word to them 
 about any backing out. You understand? All 
 right. Good-by." 
 
 There was not much trouble in passing the 
 time until Hartley arrived, which was soon after 
 ten. The dinner had occupied more than an 
 hour, and when the cigars and coffee were 
 brought in the members of the little party had 
 settled themselves down to an intimate talk. 
 
 As Maynard poured out the coffee he brought 
 into full view a ring that he wore on his right 
 hand. 
 
 "Rather a peculiar ring that, if you will par- 
 don me for calling attention to it," observed 
 Douglas. "I never noticed it before. Did not 
 know you wore a ring." 
 
 "Yes, it is odd," said Maynard, taking off 
 the ring and showing it. "The design is a small 
 round tablet, you see, with a drudenfuss cut 
 lightly upon it. Looks as if it had been 
 scratched by hand almost. From under one end 
 peeps a snake's head, and from the other a 
 fish's. Funny you did not notice it before," he 
 added with his usual nervous little laugh. "I
 
 Cab No. 44 61 
 
 believe a drudenfuss keeps out confusion and 
 trouble if you make it yourself; but I did not 
 make this one." 
 
 "Family heirloom, I suppose?" remarked 
 Fletcher. 
 
 "No, it was given to me." Maynard put the 
 ring back upon his finger as he spoke. "I be- 
 lieve it has quite a history. If I were super- 
 stitious I would not have accepted it, as it has 
 been associated with two violent deaths." 
 
 When Hartley arrived they got down at 
 once to the business of the evening. It appeared 
 that Maynard and Dr. Ramie had been over the 
 ground with Milton Fletcher in advance, and 
 were quite familiar with the scheme proposed. 
 The doctor was full of the business involved, 
 and seemed to attach most importance to the 
 proper understanding of the conditions and to 
 the posting of the bet. Maynard, on the other 
 hand, was full of the joke, as he persisted in 
 calling it. 
 
 Douglas did not waste any time in laying be- 
 fore them the plan that he had elaborated, 
 which was that one of them should place a cer- 
 tain amount of money in a safe somewhere, and 
 that they should hire some man to steal it. 
 After this man had had sufficient time to get
 
 62 Cab No. 44 
 
 away they could go to the police and raise the 
 hue and cry after him. 
 
 This plan was speedily demolished by 
 Fletcher, who pointed out its great weakness, 
 which was that the whole party would inevi- 
 tably be drawn into the police net as witnesses, 
 and would have to betray the quarry themselves. 
 
 Maynard, Hartley and Dr. Ramie were evi- 
 dently pleased by the businesslike way in which 
 Fletcher presented his reasons for disagreeing 
 with Douglas. Douglas himself was so strongly 
 impressed by the young Englishman's acumen 
 and foresight that during a pause in the con- 
 versation he asked Fletcher if he would not 
 like to go into a broker's office. 
 
 "Of course I don't want to inquire into your 
 affairs, Mr. Fletcher," he remarked, "but unless 
 I am much mistaken there is a good deal more 
 'do' than 'blow' about you. There are great 
 openings in this country for young men that can 
 keep their mouths shut until they have thought 
 over what should be said, or until what is to 
 do is done. I could put you into a place where 
 a small partnership might grow into something 
 worth while." 
 
 "I don't know anything about stocks," re- 
 plied Fletcher, with a smile that showed he was 
 not displeased at the compliment. "I have a
 
 Cab No. 44 63 
 
 pretty good berth now. At the same time, I 
 am seriously thinking about making my home 
 in the States, if I can find an opening. It is very 
 good of you to suggest the possibility as to my 
 future, but for the present I think it will be 
 better to finish the matter in hand." 
 
 "Let us have your idea of what might be 
 done, then," demanded the doctor. 
 
 "My plan is briefly this," said Fletcher: 
 "There are two or three conditions which limit 
 the problem and increase its difficulties. In the 
 first place, in case the amateur criminal is 
 caught, it will be necessary that there should be 
 some loophole provided for his escape. It might 
 be shown that the whole thing was a mistake, 
 and that no actual robbery had occurred. Other- 
 wise, if the robbery were real, the whole lot of 
 us might go to jail as accessories before the fact. 
 
 "Another point is that it will be necessary 
 to commit the robbery without having to com- 
 mit burglary or assault on the person as well. 
 You might announce that nothing had been 
 actually stolen, after all ; but you could not deny 
 that a house had been broken into. If it were 
 highway robbery, the person who was held up 
 could hardly claim, after the thief was caught, 
 that it was all a mistake, and that no one had 
 ever attacked him.
 
 64 Cab No. 44 
 
 "Any such things as robbery of the mails, or 
 of an express company, would never do; be- 
 cause they would not be humbugged by any 
 story of 'nothing in it' after they had caught 
 the thief, but would probably dig out the whole 
 story on the witness stand. 
 
 "As one of the conditions of the bet is that 
 the police should not be able to identify the 
 criminal by his work, nor be led to him by his 
 pals a very important condition, by the way 
 it will be necessary for the identity of the thief 
 to be a mystery from the first. This will com- 
 pel the police to find out who he is before pro- 
 ceeding to the second part of their task, his 
 arrest. I should insist on the importance of pro- 
 viding against the possibility of the man's own 
 friends, or supposed friends, betraying him to 
 the police. In cases of robbery the difficulty is 
 always to know who did it. If you read the 
 papers you must have observed that. But in 
 murders the difficulty is to find the man after 
 his identity is clearly established." 
 
 "My, but there's a lot to think of!" remarked 
 the doctor. 
 
 "What I propose is this," continued Fletcher. 
 "Some one having about his person valuable 
 jewels or a large sum of money should go to 
 a certain hotel. Money would be better, if the
 
 Cab No. 44 65 
 
 sum were large enough to interest the police in 
 the case. That the victim had this money about 
 him should be possible of proof by his having 
 drawn it, received it, or taken it out of a safe 
 in the presence of witnesses just before going 
 to the hotel. 
 
 "The robbery should take place in this hotel, 
 and it should be done without having to break 
 any locks or climb through any windows. Prob- 
 ably a very simple way would be to suppose that 
 the money had been placed in a pocket-book 
 and put in the inside pocket of a coat; whereas 
 it had actually been placed in the pocket of an 
 overcoat. This overcoat could be carelessly 
 thrown on the bed or a chair upon the guest's 
 arrival at the hotel. Thinking the money was 
 in his coat pocket, the guest could mention to 
 the clerk at the desk that he had a large sum 
 of money to put in the safe in a few minutes; 
 but wanted to get some papers out of his bag 
 as soon as it was sent upstairs, or something of 
 that sort. 
 
 "A call to the telephone, or a momentary 
 absence from the room for any purpose, would 
 give the desired opportunity for the abstraction 
 of the pocket-book. Some twenty minutes later, 
 when the guest discovered that the pocket-book 
 was not in his coat, he would rush to his over-
 
 66 Cab No. 44 
 
 coat. The next thing would be the alarm, and 
 after that, the thirty days' hunt would be on." 
 
 Hartley had listened up to this point with 
 the greatest attention; but he could not help in- 
 terposing a question. 
 
 "But if the man who is robbed could call 
 witnesses to prove that he had the money on 
 his person when he entered the hotel, how could 
 he claim it was all a mistake if the thief was 
 caught with the pocket-book on him?" 
 
 "The thief is not to keep the pocket-book. 
 The mistake could be explained by the dis- 
 covery that the victim had put it in his over- 
 coat pocket before leaving home, thinking it was 
 in his inside coat. In the haste of leaving home 
 he had put on another overcoat at the last 
 minute, leaving the pocket-book hanging in the 
 other coat." 
 
 "And how do you purpose getting the pocket- 
 book back into the other coat at home?" 
 
 "The man that does the robbery is to bring 
 the pocket-book here, as evidence that the crime 
 has been committed. It is to be handed to Dr. 
 Ramie, who will see that it finds its way back 
 to the coat that has been left behind. The man 
 is to have twenty minutes clear start after he 
 gives up the pocket-book." 
 
 "I should not fancy leaving a pocket-book
 
 Cab No. 44 '67 
 
 full of money hanging up in the hall for a 
 month," remarked Hartley, with a laugh. 
 
 "It will be in a clothes-closet in an apart- 
 ment, and the closet will be locked. This time 
 of year it is not unusual for a man to fancy he 
 will need a warmer overcoat before going out." 
 
 "They might say he dropped the pocket-book 
 between the house and the hotel." 
 
 "He is to take a cab from place to place. 
 r And he will tell the cabman to wait for him, 
 as he is going out again as soon as he gets his 
 valuables in the safe. The cab will still be wait- 
 ing in front of the hotel when the alarm is given, 
 so that it may be searched for the money." 
 
 "Scheme's all right but for one thing," re- 
 marked Douglas. "Where are you going to get 
 a man to be robbed and a man to rob him?" 
 
 "That has also been provided for," declared 
 Fletcher quietly. 
 
 "You bet it has," put in the doctor, with a 
 laugh. "That's the principal part of it." 
 
 "And who is your man ? Or is that a secret ?" 
 
 "I understand," said Fletcher quietly, "that 
 Mr. Douglas is willing to pay handsomely for 
 his share of the expense, in case the man suc- 
 ceeds in eluding the police for a month. I sup- 
 pose that if he is caught, and Mr. Hartley wins, 
 he will stand the expense?" Mr. Hartley
 
 68' Cab No. 44 
 
 nodded. "Suppose we say that if the man suc- 
 ceeds he shall get half the money. That will be 
 five thousand?" 
 
 "He can have the whole ten, as far as I am 
 concerned," said Douglas promptly. 
 
 "Same here," said Hartley, not to be outdone 
 in generosity. "I don't want the money. But 
 it's a cinch. The police would ferret that out 
 in thirty hours." 
 
 "Then, gentlemen," continued Fletcher, the 
 curious cunning look that Helen Ohlstrom did 
 not like coming into his face, "if it is agreeable 
 to Mr. Hartley to give the doctor his check to 
 cover the one already deposited by Mr. Doug- 
 las, the robbery will take place on Thursday 
 night, at the Earlswood Hotel. We selected 
 that because it has two entrances, or rather two 
 exits." 
 
 "And the actors in this little comedy?" asked 
 Hartley, taking out his note-book and jotting 
 down the name of the hotel; "I suppose that is 
 a secret." 
 
 Fletcher shrugged his shoulders and glanced 
 at the doctor. Maynard smiled and nodded as 
 if consenting to something. Fletcher looked 
 Hartley full in the face and said slowly: 
 
 "Mr. Maynard has kindly consented to be 
 robbed, and I will do the trick myself."
 
 Cab No. 44 69 
 
 George Hartley's face was a study. Douglas 
 laughed. Dr. Ramie, quite unmoved, relieved 
 the strain by reminding Hartley to send down 
 that check in the morning. 
 
 "Nice exhibition you will make of yourself 
 if you are caught!" was the first thing Hartley 
 said, his tone being quite serious. 
 
 "Not at all, sir. I am a foreigner," Fletcher 
 replied. "Practically no one here knows me. 
 I shall go to another hotel and change my name 
 before Thursday, probably to-morrow or next 
 day. If they catch me, it will be James Wal- 
 ton's name that will go on the blotter until such 
 time as Mr. Maynard gets home and finds the 
 pocket-book in his overcoat. But I assure you 
 I cannot imagine what clue the police will be- 
 gin upon. They will not even have a chance 
 to inquire about men who have more money to 
 spend than usual, because the pocket-book will 
 be given up at once. I have so little fear of 
 being caught that if I had the money I should 
 put a pony on myself." 
 
 "I have a hundred with you, you know, Hart- 
 ley," put in the doctor. Mr. Hartley nodded. 
 Then turning to Fletcher, Hartley said : 
 
 "I think you have enough on now. Ten 
 thousand if you succeed. Don't be greedy. But 
 let me understand this clearly now," taking out
 
 70 Cab No. 44 
 
 his note-book again. "Thirty days is the limit. 
 If you succeed you get ten thousand dollars. 
 Mighty good pay that. If you fail you get noth- 
 ing; therefore I shall get the whole stakes if I 
 win. Is that right?" 
 
 "Perfectly," said Fletcher quickly, with a 
 smile. 
 
 "Not a bit of it," interrupted Douglas. "You 
 said you would give up your end of it if you 
 won, Hartley." 
 
 "No. You misunderstood me. I said that 
 if I were taking your end I would. It may be 
 all right to pay a man for succeeding; but not 
 for failure." 
 
 Douglas pursed his lips with an expression of 
 contempt; but Fletcher did not object. Hart- 
 ley went on, still scribbling in his note-book: 
 
 "And it is next Thursday night you are going 
 to tee up?" 
 
 "That is the day we fixed on," said Fletcher; 
 "and we made the hour late enough to prevent 
 its getting into the morning papers. I shall ex- 
 pect you gentlemen to be here at one o'clock in 
 the morning. That will interfere with no other 
 engagements. I shall present myself with the 
 pocket-book as soon after one o'clock as I can. 
 You are then to remain in this room twenty min- 
 utes, in order to give me time to get clear away."
 
 Cab No. 44 71 
 
 "And don't forget, gentlemen," said the doc- 
 tor, "that we are all to meet here thirty days 
 from next Thursday night, which will be Satur- 
 day, at eight o'clock sharp, for the paying over 
 of the stakes. If you are not here I shall pocket 
 the money myself." 
 
 "And if the jig is up before thirty days?" 
 asked Hartley, still scribbling. 
 
 "Meet here and settle up thirty days from 
 Thursday, win or lose," said the doctor posi- 
 tively. "That is the condition to which you 
 will please sign your names here." 
 
 Douglas stood up, stretched himself, and 
 laughed. Hartley seemed still to be only half 
 convinced that the whole thing was not a joke 
 of some kind. Maynard was full of animation, 
 and he slapped Fletcher on the back as he ex- 
 claimed : 
 
 "By Jove ! old fellow, I believe you are right. 
 This is going to be more fun than hunting with- 
 out a dog!" 
 
 They all turned to go. Hartley whispered to 
 Fletcher: "And what hotel will you stop at 
 under the name of James Walton?" 
 
 "I have arranged to go to the Realton," re- 
 plied Fletcher quietly. And then once more he 
 smiled that same cunning smile as he saw Hart- 
 ley jot down the name in his note-book.
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 ON Wednesday evening Hardy Maxwell 
 dined at the Ohlstroms' home. Al- 
 ways quiet in company, he showed 
 even less than his usual animation during the 
 dinner- Helen thought that she detected the 
 symptoms of the same preoccupied manner that 
 had annoyed her at the beginning of their long 
 afternoon walk. 
 
 Hardy made no attempt to lead the conversa- 
 tion. What little he had to say was addressed 
 chiefly to Mr. Ohlstrom. Helen, finding her- 
 self almost ignored, devoted her attention to 
 her mother, who was too much concerned with 
 the arrangements of the dinner to notice her 
 guest's manner. 
 
 Helen wondered what could make Maxwell 
 so reserved. In some things, she had to admit 
 to herself, he was certainly peculiar. When she 
 had asked him about a certain play that she had 
 seen, it was evident that he had not been inside 
 a theater since he landed. He spoke once of 
 wishing that he could go to some indoor athletic 
 meeting, but he did not explain what prevented 
 him from attending it. The more she thought 
 
 72
 
 Cab No. 44 73 
 
 over their acquaintance, the more she was im- 
 pressed by a certain air of mystery about him; 
 something that she had not yet penetrated; 
 something, she almost feared to confess to her- 
 self, that did not ring quite true. He had the 
 power to assume an air of absolute detachment; 
 he had the habit of shutting himself behind an 
 impenetrable wall of polite impersonality. 
 
 After dinner, seated in front of a cozy open 
 fire in the parlor, he relapsed into a sort of semi- 
 inattention that was particularly annoying to her 
 just then. 
 
 "A penny for your thoughts," she said sud- 
 denly, after several attempts to interest him in 
 something. 
 
 "Do I appear to be thinking about something 
 besides you?" he asked, with a smile. 
 
 "Well! I should say that if your thoughts 
 were on a girl at all, she must be a long way 
 from here." 
 
 "Perhaps I was thinking about a girl who is 
 here now being a long way from here," and he 
 looked at her quizzically, while she began to 
 wonder just what he meant, and what was com- 
 ing next. 
 
 "I suppose you have heard of girls traveling 
 long distances to get married," he went on.
 
 74 Cab No. 44 
 
 "What do you think of the scheme?" He spoke 
 very slowly and deliberately. 
 
 "Why, really," she said with a little gasp, "I 
 can't say that I have. I should not care for it 
 myself." 
 
 "But suppose the man could not come to you, 
 on account of his business, or something of that 
 kind?" 
 
 She shrugged her shoulders. 
 
 "I should want to be very sure of the man 
 before taking such a step, and very much in 
 love with him. But I don't think I should care 
 for it. In fact, I know I shouldn't. But I shall 
 never be called on to make such a decision, so 
 what does it matter?" 
 
 "Then you would be willing to give him up 
 rather than travel to a foreign country to marry 
 him, if he could not come to you?" 
 
 "Really, Mr. Maxwell, I don't see the use of 
 discussing such things. People don't get en- 
 gaged by correspondence. If they have been 
 together long enough to love each other, why 
 not get married before they allow oceans to 
 (separate them? But there! Let's talk about 
 something else." 
 
 "But suppose that the man's circumstances 
 were such that he could not marry at that par-
 
 Cab No. 44 75 
 
 ticular time, and that he knew he could not come 
 back?" 
 
 She felt that he was looking at her intently, 
 and she was also conscious that he was lean- 
 ing forward toward her in his chair. Somehow 
 she felt uneasy. 
 
 "Please let us talk about something else. I 
 am not good on problems of that kind. They 
 are too suggestive of something irregular in a 
 person's life." She noticed that he winced a 
 little when she said that, so she hastened to add: 
 
 "It seems to me that the bridegroom should 
 always come to claim his bride. The idea of a 
 girl's crawling off to a foreign country to stand 
 up and get married before a lot of total 
 strangers ! Not a soul around into whose arms 
 she could throw herself and have a good cry, 
 if she felt like it." 
 
 "Then I understand," he said slowly, draw- 
 ing his chair still nearer, "that it would be use- 
 less for a man to propose to you unless he could 
 come to your own home to marry you?" 
 
 There was something in his movement toward 
 her, and in the earnestness of his voice, that 
 almost frightened her. At the same time it fas- 
 cinated her. 
 
 "Really," she stammered, "I don't understand 
 you."
 
 76 Cab No. 44 
 
 "Yes, you do, Helen!" She drew in her 
 under lip convulsively on hearing herself called 
 by her first name, and felt a little shiver as he 
 touched her left hand lightly with his right. 
 Somehow she felt that the safest thing she could 
 do would be to stand up ; but she found he still 
 held her hand as he stood up, facing her, and 
 looking fixedly at her face. 
 
 "That is your condition, is it? That you will 
 never give yourself to a man that cannot come 
 for his bride?" 
 
 "That would depend on the man, after all, 
 I suppose," she faltered, and the words as- 
 tonished her as they came. But when she 
 realized what they meant she felt a feeling of 
 relief and looked up at him with a smile. 
 
 "And if I were the man that asked you?" 
 he whispered tenderly, putting his arm round her 
 waist and drawing her to him. 
 
 She looked him straight in the eyes for a mo- 
 ment, and then she unconsciously laid her dis- 
 engaged hand on his shoulder. 
 
 "You would come for me, I know, if it was 
 in heaven or earth. But if not," sinking her 
 head upon his shoulder as she felt his lips touch 
 her cheek, "I suppose I would go to you." 
 
 The last words sank into a whisper so low 
 that he could hardly hear them. One linger-
 
 Cab No. 44 77 
 
 ing embrace, and then she started from him with 
 a little fluttering laugh, and ran upstairs, kiss- 
 ing her hand to him for good-night. Safely in 
 her room, she threw herself on the bed and 
 buried her face in her hands, listening for him 
 to go out. And then, far into the night, the 
 burning flame of a fierce faith in her lover 
 struggled against the chilling influence of an in- 
 definable something that suggested doubt and 
 fear.
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 THURSDAY night was very cold. Mr. 
 James Walton stepped out of the 
 Realton with the collar of his top 
 coat well turned up and his hands in his pockets. 
 He did not carry a cane in America. 
 
 As he passed the row of cabs standing near 
 the hotel his interest in them was sufficiently evi- 
 dent to induce several of the drivers to make a 
 jump for their vehicles and touch their hats. 
 But he passed on without even shaking his head 
 in answer to their eager "Cab, sir?" 
 
 A few blocks away he came to another cab- 
 stand, and reviewed it with the same apparent 
 interest and with about the same result. Still 
 further away he came to another, and in this 
 manner he visited a number of cab-ranks in front 
 of stations and hotels, as if he were on a tour 
 of inspection of that particular industry. 
 
 Finally he stopped abruptly in front of a 
 particular cab and looked the driver over care- 
 fully. Evidently satisfied with the review, which 
 the good-natured Irishman took in good part, 
 he opened the door himself and got in. He 
 told the driver to take him to a certain corner 
 
 78
 
 Cab No. 44 79 
 
 uptown. Arrived at the street, he put his head 
 out and ordered the driver to turn to the left 
 and to go slowly. He seemed to be looking for 
 a particular number, but when the driver asked 
 him what number he wanted he did not answer. 
 
 Presently he called to the cabman to stop. On 
 getting out he mounted the steps of a house a 
 few doors further on and rang the bell. Just 
 as he passed inside he called to the cabman to 
 stay where he was for a few minutes. The 
 house was Dr. Ramie's office. 
 
 Half an hour passed. Walton came to the 
 door and found the cabman slapping his arms 
 to keep himself warm. 
 
 "I am very sorry to keep you waiting so 
 long," Walton said, "but the doctor is not in 
 yet. They expect him every minute." Then he 
 went down a few steps, and looked up and down 
 the street, as if expecting to see the doctor com- 
 ing along. 
 
 He went into the house again. Another half 
 'hour passed, but the doctor did not arrive. 
 
 The second time Walton appeared at the 
 door he again apologized for the delay and 
 asked the driver if he were not getting cold. 
 
 "You're right it's cold it is, sir, and seeming 
 like snow the night."
 
 80 Cab No. 44 
 
 "Won't your horse stand a minute while you 
 come in and get a snifter to keep you warm?" 
 
 Cabby evidently needed no second invitation. 
 After a quick hitch at the horse's blanket and 
 a look at the lamps, he was up the steps beside 
 Mr. James Walton, who still had the collar of 
 his top coat turned well up, and who stood so 
 that the driver could not very well read the name 
 at the side of the door. 
 
 The two men passed at once into the doc- 
 tor's office at the rear, where the physician's as- 
 sistant was arranging some books. A decanter 
 and glasses were already on the table, from 
 which cabby inferred that his fare had already 
 fortified himself against the chilly atmosphere. 
 
 After a good stiff drink cabby was persuaded 
 to take a cigar, the doctor's assistant holding 
 the match for him. Then another drink was in 
 order, and about fifteen minutes had passed with- 
 out seeming to be more than five. After a few 
 minutes more he proposed that they should take 
 one more drink, and then have a look up and 
 down the street. Cabby, nothing loath, helped 
 himself to a good four fingers of whisky, and 
 then the two men went to the door together, 
 opened it, and stepped out into the night air. 
 
 The cab was gone. 
 
 After the first exclamations of surprise from
 
 Cab No. 44 81 
 
 Walton and appropriate explosions of blas- 
 phemy from the cabman, the two men walked 
 to the corner together, on the chance that they 
 might find some one who had seen which way 
 the cab went. At that hour, and on such a cold 
 night, there were few persons about. None of 
 them had noticed any cab. 
 
 Retracing their steps, they went to the other 
 end of the block on which the doctor's office 
 stood. There they found a policeman, who said 
 no cab had passed him; but he had only just 
 come round the corner himself. 
 
 After a brief consultation, the policeman sug- 
 gested that the cabman should go into the saloon 
 on the corner below, and telephone to his em- 
 ployers at the stable, as the horse had probably 
 started for home. While both men were sure 
 the horse would be stopped, they agreed that 
 the stable should be notified. Walton then said 
 that he would walk back to the doctor's office 
 and wait there ; but that cabby need not come for 
 him. Pulling out a five-dollar bill, he handed it 
 to the cab-driver, and said he was sorry, but 
 hoped the cab would be found all right again. 
 Then he gave the police officer a cigar, and after 
 more regrets for the unfortunate occurrence, he 
 turned back toward the doctor's office and dis- 
 appeared round the corner.
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 ABOUT twelve o'clock that night May- 
 nard drove up to the Realton, and told 
 his cabman to wait for him a few 
 minutes. 
 
 "All right, sir," said the porter, coming 
 through the glass door into the cold air. He 
 was a new hand, and anxious to please. "You 
 don't need any check, sir. The cab will wait 
 for you on the outside line, just across the street, 
 sir." 
 
 Passing the office, Maynard stepped up to the 
 information counter and asked that his card be 
 sent up to Mr. James Walton immediately. 
 The boy took the card and was entering the 
 call on the stub when Maynard heard some one 
 pronounce his name. Turning round, he found 
 himself facing the manager, who knew him as a 
 frequent diner at the hotel, and who now ex- 
 tended his hand. The manager's greeting was 
 not as warm as usual, Maynard thought. In 
 fact, he looked worried. 
 
 "You will pardon me, Mr. Maynard, I know; 
 but may I ask you to step into my office a mo- 
 ment before you send that card up?" Then, 
 
 82
 
 Cab No. 44 83 
 
 turning to the boy, the manager said sharply: 
 "Just hold that call for a few minutes until this 
 gentleman is ready." At the same time he took 
 the card from the boy and motioned to May- 
 nard to follow him into his private office. Once 
 inside, the manager closed the door carefully, 
 and waved his hand to a chair, taking one him- 
 self. 
 
 "You will pardon my apparent abruptness, 
 Mr. Maynard," he said, "but I know I can 
 trust you. I am sure I can also depend on you 
 to tell me the truth. What I want to impress 
 upon you is that I am disobeying orders in 
 speaking about this matter at all." 
 
 "But, my dear fellow, what are you talking 
 about? What is the matter?" 
 
 "The matter is this Mr. James Walton, to 
 whom you were about to send a card. I had 
 just relieved our house detective, whom I set 
 to watch every one that called on this Mr. Wal- 
 ton. And here you are the very first person 
 that seems to know him." 
 
 "But, my dear fellow " 
 
 "I am sorry, Mr. Maynard," the manager 
 went on, "that you should be the first person 
 we could lay our hands upon in this connection; 
 but, in justice to yourself, I think it is just as
 
 84 Cab No. 44 
 
 well to clear it up through you as through any 
 one else." 
 
 "But, my dear fellow, I don't understand 
 what you are driving at, I assure you," pro- 
 tested Maynard. 
 
 "Well, that is what I supposed. In fact, I 
 was sure your acquaintance with Mr. Walton 
 must be either trivial or accidental. If you will 
 allow me, I will explain matters as briefly as 
 I can. If you can enlighten us in any way, I 
 shall be very glad ; because I am very much wor- 
 ried about the matter. Particularly since you 
 seem to be mixed up in it." 
 
 "Mixed up ! But, my dear fellow, I am not 
 mixed up in anything. What on earth do you 
 mean?" Mr. Maynard was beginning to think 
 that the little joke which he was to be a part 
 of that night had somehow leaked out. 
 
 "Well, not to detain you longer than neces- 
 sary, Mr. Maynard, this is the state of the 
 case. A Pinkerton officer at least I suppose 
 he is from Pinkerton's, they mostly are fol- 
 lowed this Mr. James Walton from the last 
 hotel at which he stayed, at which, it appears, 
 he was registered as Mr. Milton Fletcher." 
 Maynard winced, and wondered how the police 
 could have found out about their little plot so 
 far ahead of its being carried out. "I suppose
 
 Cab No. 44 85 
 
 you know," the manager went on, "that we 
 watch everybody about a hotel like this pretty 
 closely, and the head porter has a specially keen 
 eye for baggage, and also for cabs." Mr. May- 
 nard gave quite a start at this last statement; 
 but the manager did not seem to observe it. 
 "Now," the hotel man continued, "this Milton 
 Fletcher came from another hotel to- the one 
 which he left to come here; and his name was 
 neither Fletcher nor Walton at the first one, but 
 Stewart." 
 
 "You astonish me," gasped Maynard, now 
 beginning to feel a little nervous. The change 
 of name from Fletcher to Walton he under- 
 stood; but that Fletcher was also an assumed 
 name came in the nature of a shock. He did 
 not quite know what to say, or what it was that 
 the manager expected him to say. "Did he 
 leave those hotels without paying his bills, then, 
 or what is the matter?" Maynard asked. 
 
 "On the contrary, he is most prompt. He 
 owes nothing at the hotel he left, and I have 
 just asked at the cashier's office here, and find 
 he has paid up his bill for a week in advance. 
 There is, I am sorry to say, a little circumstance 
 in connection with the payment which we shall 
 come to presently.
 
 86 Cab No. 44 
 
 "Not a bad check, I hope, or anything of that 
 kind. Because, you know, I would " 
 
 "Oh, no! That is, not exactly. It is noth- 
 ing that you could set right. Have a little pa- 
 tience, and let me tell you the important part 
 of the story. The Pinkertons seem to have 
 had instructions simply to identify their man, 
 and to establish the fact that he is the same man 
 that was known as Fletcher at the other hotel. 
 I think they were rather astonished themselves 
 to find traces further back still. They had three 
 men here to walk through and 'mug' Mr. Wal- 
 ton, as they call it, so that any one of the three 
 would know him again anywhere. We usually 
 extend any little courtesy to the Pinkertons, 
 thinking we might want it returned some day, 
 so Mr. Jacobs, our house detective, gave the 
 other officer a chance to look into Mr. Walton's 
 room, without making any attempt to search it, 
 you understand, but just to see what baggage 
 he had, and if there were any initials upon it. 
 
 "Now, to go back a little, I want to call your 
 attention to something that was in the papers 
 a few weeks ago, but which may have escaped 
 you. In fact, I didn't remember it until this 
 Pinkerton man called my attention to it this 
 evening. You know there was a big forgery oi
 
 Cab No. 44 87 
 
 English bank notes, supposed to be the work of 
 a gang headed by a man named Ardmore." 
 
 "Oh, yes, I recollect it perfectly. It was said 
 the gang came over here, I believe," assented 
 Maynard, and the manager continued: 
 
 "From what this Pinkerton man tells me, the 
 members of the gang are supposed to have been 
 a little too quick for the police on the other side 
 and to have landed here all safe and separated. 
 Now he is very anxious that I should not breathe 
 a word of what he suspects to a soul, and above 
 all not to our own man Jacobs. That is why 
 I am disobeying orders in telling you ; but I trust 
 you will not repeat it." Maynard hastened to 
 assure him that he would be as silent as the 
 grave, so the manager went on: "This Ard- 
 more came to this country with a companion. 
 They occupied the same room on the steamer, 
 at least that is what the police have dug up by 
 following a baggage clue. The London police 
 did not know he was on board that steamer until 
 she had docked here, it seems, although they 
 knew that Ardmore at least would try to get 
 here. 
 
 "Now, it is a curious thing that neither of 
 the two men that were in that stateroom made 
 any attempt to clear any baggage. The cus- 
 toms officers cannot find any declaration of
 
 88 ; Cab No. 44 
 
 theirs. Yet the bedroom steward was certain 
 that each of them had a valise, and that one of 
 these bags was evidently made to order. As I 
 understand this Pinkerton man, it was peculiar 
 enough to make it pretty sure that there was 
 no other like it. The London police sent a full 
 description of it here by wire, so that Ardmore 
 might be identified by it, as they had no other 
 clue." 
 
 The hotel manager paused, and looked at 
 Mr. Maynard with his eyes half shut. Then 
 he continued with marked deliberation and 
 emphasis: 
 
 "Well, Mr. Maynard, that bag is in Mr. 
 James Walton's room." 
 
 "Great heavens ! But you must be mistaken ! 
 Why, Fletcher is the dearest chap! You must 
 be mistaken!" 
 
 "Possibly. But you will pardon me for hav- 
 ing brought you in here to ask you just one 
 question. How long have you known Mr. Wal- 
 ton, or Mr. Fletcher, or Stewart, or whatever 
 his name is, and who introduced him?" 
 
 "Why, I met him at the club. Let me see." 
 As his memory ran back rapidly over the past 
 week or two, Maynard felt dazed. Could it 
 be possible? Who was it that had brought 
 Fletcher to the club in the first place ? He could
 
 Cab No. 44 89 
 
 not remember anything clearly for a minute. 
 The manager's statements had quite unnerved 
 him. All he could think of to say was, "So you 
 think that Fletcher is this forger Ardmore?" 
 
 "Not Ardmore himself, but one of the gang. 
 He does not answer the description of Ardmore, 
 but he fits the steward's description of the man 
 in the cabin with Ardmore absolutely. The 
 Pinkerton man had it all pat. The bag seems 
 to me conclusive. This detective is very anxious 
 that I should not tell Jacobs or the regular 
 police of his suspicions, as he says that would 
 spoil it all. It appears that they never arrest 
 counterfeiters. All they do is to shadow them 
 in order to find out whom they connect with. 
 That is why I want to impress on you not to 
 mention the matter to any one until they have 
 ferreted out the whole gang. Then, it ap- 
 pears, they will pinch the lot. If they thought I 
 had said a word to you, and they found out 
 that you were a friend of Walton's, they would 
 blame me for spoiling the work of weeks." 
 "Then you are not going to arrest Fletcher?" 
 "You will pardon me, Mr. Maynard; but I 
 see you are more accustomed to calling him 
 Fletcher than Walton. Of course if you knew 
 him at the other hotel, it was as Fletcher. I 
 suppose you do not care to say why he called
 
 90 Cab No. 44 
 
 himself Walton when he came to this house, 
 or Stewart at another house, and why you sent 
 your card to Mr. Walton?" 
 
 This question brought Maynard back to a 
 vivid recollection of the business upon which 
 he and Fletcher were engaged that evening, and 
 which he now saw was apparently completely 
 knocked on the head. He stammered something 
 about Fletcher's having asked him to call him 
 Walton just for a few days, and supposed it 
 was a practical joke of some kind. He tried to 
 force a laugh, but in reality he felt very uncom- 
 fortable. Finally, in order to escape, if possible, 
 having to answer that awkward question about 
 where he had met Fletcher, he blurted out: 
 "So you are not going to arrest him?" 
 "Not until they have traced all his connec- 
 tions. They hope to be able to locate the whole 
 gang, and perhaps the plates. When the 
 steamer gets back they will have that steward 
 up here to identify him on the quiet, I believe. 
 But the great thing is to trace up his pals, and 
 here the very first person we run across is you ! 
 I am very glad it was I and not Jacobs that saw 
 you hand in that card; because while Jacobs does 
 not know what we suspect, he knows Mr. Wal- 
 ton is watched, and he is sharp enough to know 
 that he is a crook of some kind. He would
 
 Cab No. 44 91 
 
 have been watching you next. If you have no 
 objection, Mr. Maynard, I think it would re- 
 lieve matters a good deal if you would tell me 
 how long you have known this fellow and who 
 introduced you. But if you have any objection 
 to stating the facts, of course I will not press 
 the matter. You spoke of a practical joke of 
 some kind. I would advise you to cut it out, 
 Mr. Maynard, and at the same time, I trust you 
 will pardon me for trespassing upon your time." 
 
 "To tell you the truth, I would rather not 
 answer that question until I have a talk to my 
 lawyer about it," was all Maynard could say. 
 "What do you want me to do now?" 
 
 "Oh, nothing! In fact, I am almost sorry 
 that I spoke to you about the matter at all; but 
 I should be very sorry to see one of my patrons 
 caught in the police net with such a dangerous 
 person as one of the Ardmore gang. I am 
 certain, Mr. Maynard, that unless you are very 
 sure of the grounds of your acquaintance, you 
 have been grossly deceived in continuing it, even 
 if you did meet him at a club." 
 
 "But Fletcher is the dearest chap, I tell you. 
 I can't think of the slightest thing wrong about 
 him. He seems to be, in every respect, a gentle- 
 man and such a charming fellow, don't you 
 know. You certainly must be mistaken."
 
 92 Cab No. 44 
 
 "Oh, he is a charming fellow, no doubt. In 
 fact, that is one of the things that confirms our 
 belief that he is one of the gang. It appears 
 that one of them makes a specialty of getting 
 letters to some nice girl forged letters, of 
 course and then making hot love to her and, 
 if possible, inducing her to run away with him. 
 Once she finds herself in a foreign country, de- 
 pendent on him for money, he supplies her with 
 these forged bank notes, and she passes them 
 off with great success, because she never dreams 
 that they are not genuine. He takes the change, 
 and the gang gets it." 
 
 "But surely you don't mean to say that 
 Fletcher has been doing anything of that kind 
 here? Why, he has never even mentioned the 
 name of a woman to me." 
 
 "Indeed I" The manager shook his head and 
 smiled. "I don't like to undeceive you, Mr. 
 Maynard; but your friend Mr. Walton, or 
 Fletcher, or Stewart, or whatever his name is, 
 was followed yesterday, and was seen to con- 
 nect with a very stunning-looking girl, whose 
 name and address the Pinkerton man secured, 
 and who will be carefully watched from now on. 
 They go out together a good deal." 
 
 "Why, you astonish me !" 
 
 "There are several astonishing things in this
 
 Cab No. 44 93 
 
 connection. You were asking me about his pay- 
 ing his bills. When he paid his bill here he 
 gave us an English bank note, for which he re- 
 ceived' considerable change. We do not ask 
 people to write their names on the back of these 
 notes as they do in English hotels ; but we found 
 three such notes in the cash drawer that eve- 
 ning, two of them from the restaurant. We can- 
 not tell which one he gave us, but on submit- 
 ting them to an English broker that rooms here, 
 we found one of them was a forgery. The 
 broker said, the moment he saw it, that judging 
 from the descriptions it looked like an Ardmore 
 note." 
 
 "Great heavens ! I can't believe it ! you know." 
 "But that is not all, Mr. Maynard. You 
 must remember that I am telling you all this in 
 confidence. I promised not to say a word. The 
 fact is that this friend of yours is evidently an 
 old hand, because when he goes out in the eve- 
 ning he always loses his shadow when he wants 
 to. There were four men on his track one eve- 
 ning, but it was no use. He is very active, you 
 know. As quick as a cat. He goes out of this 
 hotel at one door and comes right in at another. 
 He gets on a car going one way, jumps off that 
 and boards one going the other way when both 
 cars are at full speed. If any one tried to fol-
 
 94 Cab No. 44 
 
 low him when he does that stunt they would 
 either break their necks or he would know they 
 were following him. He went out of this hotel 
 to-night about ten o'clock, and a man tried to 
 follow him. In half an hour the man was back 
 again, having given it up. Jacobs thinks that 
 Walton's beard and mustache are false, be- 
 cause he says if they were it would be impos- 
 sible to recognize him without them, there being 
 nothing peculiar about his features that a detect- 
 ive could fix." 
 
 "All this is most extraordinary," Maynard 
 commented, looking worried. "I cannot realize 
 it, you know." 
 
 "I am afraid I have trespassed on your time 
 too long now, Mr. Maynard," said the manager, 
 bowing. "I see clearly, although I trust you 
 will pardon me for saying it, that this is not an 
 old or tried acquaintance of yours by any means. 
 Let me warn you to be very careful. Shall I 
 send your card up now?" 
 
 "Not yet. I will think over what you have 
 said first." The manager bowed again, handed 
 him the card, opened the door and walked away, 
 leaving Maynard standing there, completely 
 nonplussed. 
 
 Instead of sending up his card, Maynard 
 thought he would take a short stroll outside
 
 Cab No. 44 95 
 
 to get a breath of fresh air and to recover his 
 self-possession. The night had grown warmer 
 instead of colder, and he took off his hat to 
 cool his throbbing forehead. He was pacing up 
 and down the sidewalk in front of the hotel, 
 with no idea of what to do next, when he sud- 
 denly recollected his cab. He went back and 
 asked the porter where it was. 
 
 "That's it over there, sir. Third from the 
 corner. Got number forty-four on the lamp. I 
 noticed it when you drove up. Have it here in 
 a second, sir." 
 
 Maynard explained that he wished only to 
 speak to the driver for a moment. Then he 
 crossed the street and the porter saw the driver 
 touch his hat several times very energetically. 
 Whatever they said was in tones too low for 
 any one else to hear, except the cabman's last 
 words as Maynard moved away: "You can de- 
 pend on me, sir. That will be all right, sir. 
 (You can depend on me." 
 
 Walking back to the crossing, Maynard was 
 about to return to the hotel when he came face 
 to face with Milton Fletcher. 
 
 "I waited for you in the room so long after 
 the time that I was afraid something had hap- 
 pened to you," said Fletcher, "so I came out 
 to have a look round, and here you are. It is
 
 96 Cab No. 44 
 
 getting late. They will be waiting for us, you 
 know. Where did you leave your cab?" 
 
 Maynard was so taken aback by the English- 
 man's sudden appearance that he did not know 
 what to say. The events of the last half hour 
 had completely upset him. He did not want 
 any scene, especially on the street. During the 
 time he had walked up and down in front of 
 the hotel, he had about made up his mind to 
 carry out the part he had agreed to play, but 
 not until he had from Fletcher some sort of ex- 
 planation as to who he was and what his busi- 
 ness was. He could ask for that in the cab. 
 If the explanation was not satisfactory, he would 
 drive direct to Green's and explain matters to 
 Douglas and Hartley. He felt that the petty 
 interests of the police in hunting for a forger 
 were small considerations beside the danger 
 which he and his friends were running. 
 
 Feeling safe with the cabman on the box, he 
 put the best face he could on the matter for the 
 moment, and asked Fletcher to get in first. 
 Turning to the driver, he said aloud: "You 
 know where to go?" to which the cabman 
 touched his hat without answering. Maynard 
 got in, still rather confused as to how he should 
 begin his demand for an explanation, and the 
 cab drove oft.
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 IT was nearly two o'clock in the morning 
 when Fletcher cautiously opened the door 
 of the private dining-room at Green's 
 and walked in. Douglas was deep in the attrac- 
 tions of a Welsh rarebit, while Hartley was 
 puffing a cigar. The doctor, always late, had 
 only just arrived. 
 
 They noticed that Fletcher was very pale, but 
 otherwise he seemed the same as usual. He 
 would not sit down, but simply laid a red pocket- 
 book on the table in front of the doctor, pulled 
 out his watch and remarked that, according to 
 the agreement, they were to remain in the room 
 until twenty minutes after he had left. With a 
 nod to each he moved toward the door, still 
 keeping his eye on the three men at the table. 
 
 In another moment he was gone. 
 
 Hartley was the first to speak. 
 
 "This thing still seems to me like a big joke," 
 he began. "But I suppose that pocket-book is a 
 sign that the alleged robbery has been committed 
 and that the hunt is on?" 
 
 "That's what it is," remarked the doctor 
 dryly. "And I am going to have a Welsh rare- 
 
 97
 
 9$ Cab No. 44 
 
 bit myself now, to pass the time. I was afraid 
 I was too late, but I could not help the delay. 
 Doctors are such slaves. I suppose there is no 
 objection to calling a waiter, if we don't leave 
 the room ourselves?" 
 
 The minutes passed. Douglas was lighting a 
 cigar, when he suggested that the doctor should 
 count the money in the pocket-book to see that 
 everything was all right before putting it back 
 in the coat. 
 
 "That's so," exclaimed Hartley, with a start. 
 "We must not forget any of these details. I 
 suppose we should all go to see the pocket-book 
 safely deposited in Maynard's old coat. Or can 
 we trust you, doctor?" and he laughed as if it 
 were a great joke. 
 
 As he had just finished his rarebit, the doc- 
 tor picked up the pocket-book very deliberately. 
 There was a little red stain on the cloth where 
 it had lain. The same stain was on his fingers, 
 which he smelt critically. 
 
 "Fletcher must have cut his finger or some- 
 thing," he remarked very coolly. "Looks like 
 blood." 
 
 Douglas and Hartley both seemed discon- 
 certed at the doctor's words. They drew the 
 tablecloth gingerly toward them and peered at
 
 Cab No. 44 99 
 
 the stain, while the doctor opened the pocket- 
 book. 
 
 "Not a cent in it," he exclaimed. Then he 
 peeped into each compartment again. "Some 
 mistake, I suppose. But I thought the money 
 was to be left in the pocket-book. Perhaps the 
 fugitive wants something for traveling ex- 
 penses." 
 
 Hartley and Douglas looked at each other, 
 and then at the doctor. He tossed the pocket- 
 book over to them for examination. 
 
 "Not a red !" exclaimed Hartley. "I thought 
 he was to put five thousand in it. Don't you 
 think we had better go after him and have some 
 sort of an explanation?" 
 
 "Not on your life," shouted Douglas. "A 
 bargain's a bargain. We stay here for twenty 
 minutes. We've got eight more yet. If one 
 of you leaves the room I claim the stakes, as 
 you don't abide by the conditions." 
 
 "Which way would you go to look for him, 
 I should like to know?" asked the doctor, smil- 
 ing at Douglas' earnestness. "Sit still and let 
 things slide. You will find Maynard will be 
 round in the morning. Probably he didn't like 
 to risk the actual cash, in case Fletcher was 
 nabbed before he got away from the hotel. It 
 would look all the better to find he had left the
 
 ioo Cab No. 44 
 
 cash at home, you know. If he saw Fletcher 
 was caught, he could say nothing about a pocket- 
 book and mention only the cash." 
 
 In spite of anything the doctor could say, 
 Hartley was evidently ill at ease; but he sat 
 there until the twenty minutes had expired. His 
 last words as he jumped into his cab to be 
 driven home were: 
 
 "Saturday night, thirty days from now, 
 win or lose, doctor. Good-by."
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 ON leaving the private room Fletcher 
 went down to the basement. Assuring 
 himself that there was no one in the 
 wash-room at that time of the morning, he 
 walked up to one of the basins and filled a small 
 cup with hot water. Taking out a safety-razor 
 set, he made short work of his beard and 
 mustache. 
 
 After a good look at himself in the mirror, 
 he seemed to be satisfied with his job of shav- 
 ing, if not quite with his altered appearance. 
 He opened the door and glanced up the stairs 
 as if to see if the coast was clear, and seemed 
 rather annoyed to find that the proprietor was 
 standing, with his back against the banister, 
 talking to the head waiter. 
 
 As the door creaked on its hinges the pro- 
 prietor looked down. Apparently realizing that 
 it would attract too much attention to retreat, 
 Fletcher put a bold face on it and ascended the 
 stairs. When he reached the top it was evi- 
 dent that the proprietor did not recognize him, 
 although he looked at him curiously. At that 
 late hour both the proprietor and the head
 
 IO2 Cab No. 44 
 
 waiter thought that they knew every one who 
 was on the premises. 
 
 It must have been a critical moment for 
 Fletcher. If he could pass the proprietor of a 
 restaurant who had waited on him more than 
 once, had asked him how he liked American 
 cooking, and whose business it was to remember 
 faces, he could probably pass any one. But there 
 was still another test to be undergone a test 
 which has placed many a man in the hands of the 
 police. He would be obliged to say something, 
 and there is nothing so difficult to disguise as 
 the voice. 
 
 He must have done some remarkably rapid 
 thinking during the few moments that it took 
 to mount those stairs, with the eyes of the head 
 waiter and the proprietor upon him the whole 
 time, both of them evidently waiting for the 
 remark which would explain his presence there 
 at that hour in the morning. Little did they 
 dream that ten thousand dollars probably de- 
 pended on what that remark should be.
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 MR. GEORGE HARTLEY was late 
 in arriving at his office next morn- 
 ing. When he stepped out of the 
 elevator he found a man pacing up and down 
 the corridor waiting for him. 
 
 "Good-morning, Johnson. Been waiting 
 long?" he asked hurriedly. "Come right in." 
 
 The visitor was a smooth-faced, stockily built 
 man who wore a heavy coat tightly buttoned 
 up. He held his slouch hat in both hands, and 
 seemed not particularly at ease. 
 
 "Well, what news?" demanded Hartley 
 briefly as he ran his hand through a pile of 
 letters that had been placed on his desk. 
 
 "Your man never come to no Earlswood 
 Hotel last night, sir." 
 
 Hartley turned round in his chair with a 
 start. He looked incredulous. 
 
 "No, sir. Never showed up at all. I had 
 three men there; two of them on the entrances. 
 One was in the corridor upstairs. Engaged a 
 room for him day before. They waited till 
 breakfast time this morning, sir, but there 
 wasn't nothing doing." After a pause, seeing 
 '03
 
 104 Cab No. 44 
 
 the look of complete dismay on Mr. Hartley's 
 face, he went on: "I think we should have 
 shadowed him from the Realton, sir. Then 
 we'd knowed what hotel he did go to. But you 
 know, sir, you was so sure about his going to 
 the Earlswood we supposed it was all right 
 to wait for him there. We went on watch at 
 ten o'clock; but he never showed up." 
 
 "Are you sure the people you had there didn't 
 fail to recognize him?" 
 
 "No fear of that, sir. I started on the job 
 right after you gave me the orders on Mon- 
 day morning, sir. Three of us had walked 
 through the room where he was sitting at the 
 Realton, sir, and had a good look at him. Not 
 an easy man to make a mistake about, that, sir. 
 Fine-looking almost what you calls handsome. 
 I went up to the Realton the day he moved in, 
 as you ordered, sir, and saw him get out of the 
 cab. Just for the sake of curiosity, and having 
 nothing particular to do, I went over to the 
 hotel he come from, sir. After a talk to the 
 head porter there, sir, I got wise to it that he 
 come from another hotel where his name wasn't 
 neither Walton nor Fletcher, sir." 
 
 "What's that?" Hartley almost snapped. 
 "Wait a minute," he added, stepping to the 
 door that led to the outer office and opening it.
 
 Cab No. 44 105 
 
 Addressing some one there, he said hurriedly: 
 "I'm not in to any one at present, James. Don't 
 disturb me on any account. You understand?" 
 
 He came back to his desk, and after turn- 
 ing over a few of the papers, still standing up, 
 he beckoned Johnson to come into the inner 
 room. This room was provided with double 
 doors. Through one of them anything passing 
 in the private office could be heard; but when 
 both were shut this little interior den was ab- 
 solutely sound-proof. Hartley had found it 
 convenient to let people look into his private 
 office occasionally as a demonstration of the 
 truth of the clerk's assertion that he was not in, 
 while in reality he was in this sanctum, the door 
 of which could not be seen through the door of 
 the private office, as it was in the same wall. 
 
 Both men sat down. Hartley pulled open the 
 drawer of a desk and took out a box of cigars, 
 offering- one to his visitor and taking one him- 
 self. 
 
 "Let me get this straight, now," he said. 
 "What was that about another hotel and an- 
 other name?" 
 
 "Well, sir, you know, sir, when you put me 
 on the job, I didn't know what might happen, 
 so I thought I would get all the information 
 I could, sir. It sometimes comes in handy when
 
 io6 Cab No. 44 
 
 you lose the trail, like we have this one. Of 
 course, sir," twisting his hat nervously, and 
 puffing at his cigar, "I don't want to meddle 
 into none of your business, sir; but it's my 
 opinion that your man is one of the Ardmore 
 gang." 
 
 "What's that? Nonsense! Ridiculous! 
 
 Why, he belongs to the But that doesn't 
 
 matter. Where did you get such an idea as 
 that?" 
 
 "To cut it short, sir, he's got Ardmore's bag 
 in his room at the Realton." 
 
 "Ardmore's bag! What do you mean?" 
 
 "General orders was read out at the head 
 office some weeks ago now, sir, to keep an eye 
 out for a man with a peculiar kind of a Glad- 
 stone bag, sir. It was stolen from a gent in 
 Sheffield, and if Ardmore got to this country he 
 had it with him. The bag had a brass-lined 
 slit at the top, with a leather flap over it. The 
 gent that owned it had that put in, so he could 
 slip letters in without unlocking the bag, sir. 
 Ardmore most likely didn't know how peculiar 
 it was, sir, or he wouldn't have carried it. The 
 head porter at the Realton let me take a peep 
 at Mr. James Walton's room, sir, and the bag 
 we're all looking for was right there under his
 
 Cab No. 44 107 
 
 dressing table, though I would have swore it 
 did not come with him on the cab." 
 
 "You must be mistaken." 
 
 "Not a bit of it, sir. Course I didn't say 
 nothing to the porter; but I took the manager 
 one side and asked him about this Mr. Wal- 
 ton. Knowing he could be trusted to keep his 
 mouth shut, I told him what was up." 
 
 "Why didn't you arrest him at once?" 
 
 "We never do that with counterfeiters, sir. 
 We just shadow them to see who they connect 
 with. After a bit we have the whole gang 
 spotted, and all the joints they visit marked 
 down. But I'm coming to the strangest part 
 about your man, sir, and that's this : He's never 
 wrote a letter and never got a letter at any hotel 
 he's been at. No telegrams; nothing. It's very 
 useful to have a sample of a man's writing, sir, 
 so as to tell his letters when they come. I can't 
 find that this one ever wrote a line in his life. 
 That don't seem to me human, that don't, sir." 
 
 Mr. Hartley simply drummed on the desk 
 and pulled harder at his cigar. 
 
 "The only connection we could trace him to 
 was a pretty stunning-looking girl. Her we 
 marked down, and it's lucky we did, sir, because 
 that's our chance now to pick up the trail again. 
 All these chaps have some woman on the string,
 
 Cab No. 44 
 
 and no matter where they hide, they always con- 
 nect sooner or later write her a letter, or come 
 to see her, or something. Now this girl's a 
 stunner, sir, and if he don't write her a letter, 
 or get to see her before long, he's more'n 
 human. The Ardmore gang's famous for get- 
 ting fine-looking women in tow to push their 
 goods. We've a first-rate man on our list that's 
 just for these jobs, sir. He's expensive, of 
 course ; but it pays." 
 
 "What jobs do you mean?" 
 
 "Why, to get acquainted with the girl, sir. 
 He's a handsome fellow, and has the gift of the 
 blarney to beat the band. No matter how swell 
 she may be, he can get introduced, and after 
 that, trust him. He's a fine dresser, and the 
 girl that can stand him off, or keep a secret from 
 him, after he gets his arm round her waist, ain't 
 born, sir. But he's expensive." 
 
 "What do you mean to do, then?" 
 
 "Well, sir, if you want us to follow this thing 
 up, and get track of your man again, it will 
 cost about two hundred to get Frank Doremus 
 started on the job." 
 
 "That's your handsome man with the blar- 
 ney, eh?" 
 
 "Yes, sir. Of course you know enough about 
 women to understand that a man has to flash
 
 Cab No. 44 109 
 
 the wad to get along easy with them, sir. Your 
 poor chap has to waste too much time. The 
 man with the dough can get her anything or 
 take her anywhere she wants to go. Theaters 
 and things like that, you know." 
 
 "Then you think you have lost track of him? 
 Don't you think you could pick him up again 
 in some other way than through this girl?" 
 
 "He's an old hand, sir. He can lose a 
 shadow better than any man I ever followed. 
 Why, he went in the Waldorf one evening, 
 Thirty-third Street corner; took the elevator to 
 the ninth floor; walked across to the other side 
 in the Astoria ; took the elevator up to the tenth 
 and then walked down to the seventh. I seen 
 him just in time to dodge. Course if he met 
 me again he would have knowed the job I was 
 on, and I might as well go home and take off 
 my clothes. You can't shadow a man like that, 
 sir. All that Ardmore gang's clever." 
 
 Hartley did not appear to be paying much 
 attention to this last piece of description. He 
 was pacing up and down the little sanctum, 
 puffing at his cigar. 
 
 "But wasn't there any row at the Earlswood 
 last night? Did nothing happen?" 
 
 "Nothing out of the ordinary, sir. What 
 was you expecting to happen?" Mr. Johnson
 
 no Cab No. 44 
 
 asked this question with evident curiosity, and 
 awaited the answer with his ears wide open. 
 
 "Oh, nothing!" flicking the ashes from his 
 cigar. "But it is certainly extraordinary. Do 
 you think you could pick up the trail if you knew 
 any place he was at late last night?" 
 
 Mr. Hartley's thoughts were running on the 
 empty pocket-book now. He was debating with 
 himself whether it would be safe to tell Mr. 
 Johnson that Mr. Milton Fletcher had been at 
 Green's restaurant at two o'clock in the morn- 
 ing. Upon further deliberation, he concluded 
 it was not. 
 
 Then it occurred to him to call up Dr. Ramie 
 and ask him if he had seen Maynard that morn- 
 ing, and, if so, whether the five thousand dol- 
 lars was all right. He went into the outer office 
 and had a talk with the doctor over the tele- 
 phone. The doctor had not tried to find May- 
 nard yet. Did not expect to until dinner time. 
 
 Hartley went over and spoke to the cashier. 
 Going back into the private office, he handed 
 Johnson two hundred dollars in bills, and told 
 him to go ahead with the Doremus end of it, 
 but on no account to mention his employer's 
 connection with the matter to any one outside. 
 
 "No matter what they find out about this 
 Fletcher^ or whoever he turns out to be; not a
 
 Cab No. 44 in 
 
 word about my having anything to do with him, 
 remember," Hartley repeated with emphasis. 
 
 "You can trust me for that, sir," said John- 
 son, drawing himself up, and stuffing the bills 
 into his pocket. 
 
 "Here's a fifty for yourself," Hartley added. 
 "Keep me posted; but not a word about any- 
 thing to any one. I'll pay all the costs, but 
 keep it quiet. That man must be found, if 
 money will do it. I should think if he was one 
 of the Ardmore gang the whole police force 
 would be after him." 
 
 "They don't know it, sir. If there's anything 
 in the job of pinching him, I want it for my- 
 self. I'm the only one that seen that bag, sir. 
 That is, to recognize it." 
 
 "Where is it now?" 
 
 "I'm going up to the Realton to find out, 
 sir. Course I expected to see it come round 
 to the Earlswood last night." 
 
 "Would it help matters any I mean, would 
 it save any time in locating him, if the police 
 were informed about that bag? Perhaps the 
 Pinkertons would like to know it." 
 
 Johnson did not seem to like the suggestion, 
 but he pulled himself together after a moment 
 and answered slowly: "I don't think so, sir. 
 The Pinkertons ain't no good for jobs like this,
 
 H2i Cab No. 44 
 
 sir, they not having seen him, like I have. I 
 think you'd better trust me and Doremus to 
 work the girl, sir. In a week that chap will 
 get word to her somehow. If he don't, as I 
 said before, sir, he ain't human. Good-day, sir."
 
 AFTER attending to the signature of a 
 few letters, Hartley felt that it was 
 time to run over to the Downtown 
 Club for luncheon. While there he took oc- 
 casion to ask one of his friends, Judge Windom, 
 whom he knew to be familiar with such matters, 
 how a person could get a few minutes* chat 
 with a central office detective. 
 
 "You know," he added hastily, seeing the 
 curious look on his friend's face, "we have 
 missed some important papers from the office 
 lately, and I thought if I could just have a little 
 advice from one of those fellows, on the quiet, 
 you understand not a word about this to any 
 one, if you please why, it might be useful." 
 
 "Nothing simpler, my dear fellow. I'll just 
 call up a friend of mine at Mulberry Street and 
 tell him you would like to see an officer. Where 
 shall I say?" 
 
 "Perhaps it would be better to meet him 
 here. Say in half an hour." 
 
 The judge called for the boy to bring him 
 the telephone book, and while he was gone for 
 it remarked to Hartley: 
 113
 
 Cab No. 44 
 
 "You are right to call on the regular police 
 in all these things. Some people don't like the 
 idea of it, and go to private detective agencies. 
 As an experienced criminal judge, let me ad- 
 vise you never to have anything to do with 
 private detective agencies. Go to Mulberry 
 Street or Pinkerton's. There are so many skins 
 and blackmailers among these little fellows. 
 They watch both client and suspect, and which- 
 ever has the most money they skin. Very often 
 they skin them both." 
 
 This little piece of gratuitous advice made 
 Hartley wince. While the judge was gone to 
 the telephone, he wondered what had prompted 
 the giving of it. Johnson was a private detect- 
 ive! 
 
 A few minutes passed, and the judge returned. 
 
 "Very sorry, old man," he said, "but it ap- 
 pears the whole force is out on a murder case, 
 trying to find who drove a certain cab last night. 
 It seems they found a bloody cab at daylight 
 this morning, somewhere on the river front. 
 Very interesting case, they tell me, and it's all 
 in the afternoon papers. Here, boy, get us two 
 of the latest afternoon editions you can find. 
 Any of the picture papers will do." 
 
 The two men sat down to enjoy their cigars, 
 and five minutes later both were looking at a
 
 Cab No. 44 115 
 
 picture of a cab, with the door open, the cushions 
 lying on the ground beside it, and a mob of 
 curious people standing round, just far enough 
 from the vehicle to give the photographer room. 
 
 It appeared that the cab, with the horse still 
 in the shafts, had been found at the end of a 
 lonely dock, close to the river's edge, at day- 
 light. There was no driver with it, and noth- 
 ing in the cab itself; but the cushions were 
 slashed here and there, and the whole cab was 
 soaked with blood, some of which had run out 
 from under the door and frozen on the step and 
 on the ground. 
 
 The curious thing about the cab was that on 
 the lamp was "No. 44"; but that when the 
 police went to look up that number and find 
 the owner, they discovered that cab No. 44 had 
 left the stable that morning at eight o'clock and 
 was on the rank at the Central Station, with its 
 proper driver. 
 
 Judging from the traces of frozen blood that 
 led to the edge of the dock, whatever had been 
 in the cab had been thrown into the water, and 
 they were then at work dredging the river. As 
 no one knew what time the tragedy had oc- 
 curred, it was difficult to say whether the tide 
 had been running up stream or down at the
 
 u6 Cab No. 44 
 
 time the body, if there were a body, had been 
 thrown in. 
 
 Having read over the account and glanced at 
 some other items in the paper which interested 
 him more, Hartley went back to his office, leav- 
 ing the judge still poring over the minutest de- 
 tails of the cab mystery. At parting, the judge 
 promised that one of the central office men 
 should call on Hartley next day or the day after.
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 THAT evening, after having dined at 
 home, Hartley drove down to the 
 club, where he hoped to find Dr. 
 Ramie or Maynard. Neither of them was 
 there, and when he called up the doctor at his 
 office, he found that the doctor had been out all 
 afternoon and was not expected to return until 
 late. 
 
 Several of the men at the club were talking 
 about the murder in the cab. The latest news 
 was that the result of dragging the river was 
 the finding of a man's leg. The dredgers had 
 also fished up a demijohn, which was full of 
 reddish colored water. The police thought it 
 might have been used in an attempt to catch the 
 blood coming from the cab, or in carrying water 
 to the cab in an attempt to wash it off. Their 
 theory was that the cab had been abandoned 
 because of the tell-tale frozen blood on the door 
 and the step. 
 
 A rather puzzling thing about the case was. 
 that the police had taken the cab to the stable 
 in order to see how it was that the owner came 
 to have two cabs bearing the same number, only 
 
 117
 
 n8 Cab No. 44 
 
 one of which was registered. The two cabs had 
 stood there together for several hours ; they had 
 been gazed at by hundreds of persons, and had 
 been photographed by dozens of newspaper men 
 before any one had noticed anything peculiar 
 about the numbers on the lamps. 
 
 A sign-painter, happening to stop in front of 
 the stable out of curiosity, pointed out that while 
 one cab had the numerals "44" on the lamp, the 
 other was marked "No." 44. This led the few 
 drivers and stablemen who were standing around 
 to compare notes, and to concur in the opinion 
 that no cab ever had the lettering "No." in 
 front of its number. After getting closer to the 
 cab, the crowd having made way for him as if 
 he were an authority, the sign-painter remarked 
 that the lettering was never done by a man who 
 had learned the trade; because both the down- 
 strokes of the "N" were heavy, instead of being 
 light, while the diagonal stroke was light in- 
 stead of being heavy. The crowd did not attach 
 much importance to this criticism; several men 
 thought the lettering was all right, and they did 
 not hesitate to say so. 
 
 This made the painter angry, and he went 
 close up to the lamp. A glance told him that 
 the right number of the cab was 1 144, and that 
 the ii had been turned into an N and a small
 
 Cab No. 44 119 
 
 "o" had been put between the 1 1 and the 44. 
 He said the alteration was never done by a sign- 
 painter, nor with paint; but with some sort of 
 liquid glue, mixed with ink. Upon hearing this 
 opinion, the policeman in charge took it upon 
 himself to remove both lamps, after getting the 
 sign-painter's name and address, and getting 
 three stablemen to witness that the lamps with 
 the altered numbers came from the bloody cab. 
 
 With this information at hand, the police 
 had lost no time in finding the owner of the 
 cab registered as No. 1144. The owner of the 
 vehicle said the cab had left the stable the eve- 
 ning before, and the driver had telephoned that, 
 while he went into a house for a minute with 
 a fare, the horse had run away. Where the 
 telephone message came from they did not 
 know, and the driver had not returned. The 
 police lost no time in going to the cabby's home; 
 but he had not been seen since the night before. 
 
 Hartley passed half an hour reading over the 
 details and looking at the pictures of the dock, 
 and the dredges, and the stable, and the house 
 where the cabman lived. Then he began to feel 
 restless, and, as there was no sign of the doc- 
 tor or Maynard, he drove to the theater and 
 saw the last acts of the latest play. Then he 
 went home.
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 THE next morning Hartley was at his 
 office at ten o'clock sharp. On his 
 way downtown he had looked over 
 the morning papers with a sort of idle curiosity, 
 and had seen that the latest development in the 
 cab murder case was the finding of some other 
 part of the body; this time an arm and hand, 
 with the same evidence of rough-and-ready sur- 
 gery in the separation. 
 
 The theory of the police was that the driver 
 of the cab was an accomplice, and that the story 
 of the horse's running away was a lie, pure and 
 simple. All their efforts had been directed to 
 tracing this driver, and, strange to say, they 
 found him in their own custody, safely locked 
 up in a police station. 
 
 It appeared that this driver of cab No. 1144 
 had been thrown out of a saloon about two 
 o'clock on the night of the murder, dead drunk, 
 and had been taken to the nearest station-house. 
 It was not until he had slept off the effects of 
 his spree that he was able to tell about the loss 
 of his cab. Instead of being allowed to go free, 
 as he had expected, he was astonished to hear 
 
 120
 
 Cab No. 44 121 
 
 the magistrate commit him to prison as a ma- 
 terial witness, if not something more closely 
 connected with the murder. 
 
 To an experienced criminologist, the cabman's 
 innocence would have been evident from his 
 manner, and from the straightforward way in 
 which he told his story. All he knew, he said, 
 was that when the cab had disappeared he had 
 gone to the saloon to telephone. As it was a 
 cold night, and his fare had given him five dol- 
 lars, he had proceeded to get warm by imbib- 
 ing hot whiskies. In his opinion, the drinks 
 that he had taken earlier in the evening were 
 stronger than he imagined. There was no other 
 way to account for his being knocked out so 
 quickly. He depended on the saloon-keeper to 
 prove an alibi, so far as his possible presence at 
 the dock was concerned. Fortunately for him, 
 having been gathered up from the sidewalk by 
 the police, he was able to trace the saloon in 
 which he had passed the time. Where the 
 house to which he had taken his fare was 
 located he could not remember. It was either 
 a block above or below the saloon, and to the 
 right or left. He had no idea of the number. 
 The police attached no importance to that, ap- 
 parently. All they cared for was to satisfy 
 themselves that this man had not driven the cab
 
 122 Cab No. 44 
 
 to the dock where it was found. The riddle 
 for them to solve was: Who had? 
 
 Having read all about the case, Hartley 
 stuffed the newspaper into his pocket. After 
 he had looked over his morning mail, he rang 
 the bell and told the boy to send in Mr. James 
 McBride. 
 
 McBride was a tall, handsome young fellow, 
 with blond curly hair. He had a decidedly 
 good face and a certain look about him that 
 suggested cleanness, both in body and mind. 
 His clear blue eyes and red cheeks told of a 
 healthy outdoor life. McBride was Hartley's 
 confidential secretary, and had better prospects 
 than any man in the office. His appearance and 
 his abilities, Hartley had remarked, would make 
 his fortune if he would only attend a little more 
 strictly to business; but the young man was a 
 little too fond of athletics. Hartley, however, 
 always expressed the hope that his secretary 
 would "steady down" in time. 
 
 "As long as he doesn't get to be a champion," 
 Hartley had remarked to a friend, "he is all 
 right. But the moment these athletic fellows get 
 to be champions and the girls begin running 
 after them, they're no good for business. I gave 
 the trainer a fifty to keep McBride from ever 
 being good enough to enter for the champion-
 
 Cab No. 44 123 
 
 ships, and just to make things sure, I always 
 have some little matter to attend to in Denver 
 or St. Paul the day the championships come off." 
 
 Even without being a champion, James 
 McBride had more than his share of attention 
 from the girls, but this did not alarm Hartley 
 so much. "As soon as Miss Right comes 
 along," he used to say, "James will be a red- 
 hot lover, and I don't think the engagement will 
 be a long one. The sooner the better for me; 
 because once a man's married you've got him. 
 Married men are not so quick at giving up their 
 jobs as single ones, and they don't care much 
 about championships." 
 
 After his usual good-morning greetings 
 McBride took his instructions carefully, and 
 went over briefly some matters that required 
 Hartley's personal attention; all in a very busi- 
 nesslike way, which evidently pleased Hartley 
 so much that he said he was sorry James did 
 not smoke, or he would offer him one of his 
 fifty-cent cigars. McBride thought smoking in- 
 terfered with his wind, and he considered his 
 ability to do a quarter in fifty-four seconds much 
 more important than the enjoyment of a cigar. 
 It was the wind that Hartley was anxious to 
 break up. 
 
 About ten minutes after the morning's confer-
 
 124 Cab No. 44 
 
 ence was finished and McBride had returned to 
 the outer office, he tapped at the door, and put 
 his head in with a smile. 
 
 "Mr. Douglas just called up on the telephone, 
 sir, to know if you were in. Says he'll be right 
 down"; and the smile broadened, as if the news 
 were a good joke. 
 
 "You don't mean Frank Douglas?" 
 
 "Yes, sir," still smiling. 
 
 "What the dickens is he coming here for?" 
 
 "I thought it rather curious myself, sir. He 
 hasn't been in this office since that little stock 
 transfer about two years ago. What shall I say 
 when he comes? That you will see him?" 
 
 "Oh, yes. I suppose I'll have to see him." 
 
 Hartley had not long to wait. That Frank 
 Douglas was very much excited was evident. 
 He strode into the private office without even 
 saying good-morning. Once inside, he shut the 
 door behind him very carefully, and looked as 
 if he wished to lock it. Then he took rapid 
 steps to Mr. Hartley's desk, and fumbled in his 
 pocket. He did not even take off his hat. 
 
 Pulling out a newspaper, and thrusting it 
 under Hartley's nose, he jabbed a big headline 
 excitedly with his forefinger. 
 
 "Read that," he gasped under his breath. 
 "By gad! this is a pretty kettle of fishl"
 
 Cab No. 44 125 
 
 Hartley was quite taken aback by his visitor's 
 manner. Was there a big bank failure, or what 
 had happened? 
 
 "Sit down, my dear fellow," he said reassur- 
 ingly. "You seem to be all worked up about 
 something. What's the matter?" 
 
 "Matter? Read that," was all Douglas could 
 say, jabbing his finger into the paper again. 
 
 Hartley glanced at the paper and found that 
 the part indicated was under the double head- 
 lines of the cab-murder case. He glanced down 
 the column carelessly. 
 
 "Well, my dear fellow, I don't see anything 
 in this that interests me particularly. I read it 
 all in the morning paper." 
 
 "That wasn't in the morning paper," gasped 
 Douglas, pointing a shaking finger at one of the 
 pictures. 
 
 "I see they found an arm and a hand, with a 
 ring on one finger, I read that before. What's 
 the matter with you, Douglas?" 
 
 "Yes ! A ring 1 Look at it ! There's a pic- 
 ture of the ring. Can't you see it?" 
 
 "Why, of course I see it. What of it? Say, 
 what's the matter with you?" 
 
 "Don't you see the picture of that ring? 
 Don't you see the star-shaped business, and the
 
 126 Cab No. 44 
 
 snake's head at one side and the fish at the 
 other? Don't you see it's Maynard's ring?" 
 
 For a moment Hartley felt a cold chill rim 
 down his back. Douglas took off his hat and 
 wiped his forehead. In doing it he knocked off 
 his glasses and broke them. He picked up the 
 pieces with unprintable comments. Hartley 
 looked up from the paper. 
 
 "I confess I did not recognize it as Maynard's 
 ring. Didn't know he wore a ring." Then after 
 a pause, looking furtively at Douglas: "But you 
 don't mean to say that you think " 
 
 "Course I mean it. That's why there was no 
 money in that pocket-book. That's why there 
 was blood on it. That fellow Fletcher not only 
 robbed him; he killed him. And threw him in 
 the river. That's what 1" 
 
 "Oh, nonsense ! You are crazy. What 
 
 Fletcher? Impossible! And yet " The 
 
 truth of what Johnson had told him burst upon 
 him like a flash; but he tried to keep up his ap- 
 pearance of incredulity. "What makes you 
 think it's Maynard's ring?" he asked. 
 
 "Why, didn't he show it to us at Green's that 
 night? Didn't he explain the design to us?" 
 
 "Don't remember. I think you're a little off 
 this morning, Douglas." 
 
 "No! That's so! You hadn't come yet.
 
 Cab No. 44 127 
 
 You didn't notice it. It was just after dinner. I 
 think I was the one that asked about it. He 
 took it off and handed it to us to look at. The 
 marks on it had some Dutch name. The 
 moment I saw it in the paper I recognized it." 
 He stood up and wiped his forehead again. 
 "What I want to know now is: Who is that 
 fellow Fletcher, and where is he?" 
 
 "I thought you were the one that was betting 
 they couldn't find him," remarked Hartley 
 dryly, thinking hard at the same time. 
 
 "Oh, that's all rot and nonsense now. We've 
 got to find him and shut his mouth somehow. 
 When he's caught, the whole story will come 
 out, and we'll all go to Sing Sing for putting up 
 the job with him. That's what. Even if we 
 got off, how the boys would guy us for picking 
 up a crook like that and taking him to dinner!" 
 
 Hartley turned a shade paler at the mention 
 of Sing Sing. He had not thought of that 
 before. 
 
 "I'm going right to my lawyer, Groscup," con- 
 tinued Douglas, wiping his face again, "and 
 I'm going to tell him the whole thing. And 
 then, if they don't pinch me before two o'clock, 
 I'm off to Europe by the first steamer. She sails 
 at two." 
 
 "But if you make any such extraordinary
 
 12$ Cab No. 44 
 
 move as that you will attract attention and sus- 
 picion to yourself at once," observed Hartley, 
 who was nevertheless very much in the humor 
 to cut and run for it himself. 
 
 "I'm going to get Groscup's advice upon it. 
 What I want to know is: Who is this fellow 
 Fletcher? How did you meet him? I don't 
 know where to go to ask about him." 
 
 "Take my advice, and don't ask any one. If 
 you do, they will lock you up as a witness." 
 
 "But there must be something wrong some- 
 where. How did you come to know him?" 
 
 "I never saw him before the dinner that 
 night at Green's. He was Dr. Ramie's guest, 
 and an old friend of Maynard's, I understood. 
 I don't know any more about him than you do." 
 
 "But aren't you going to find out?" 
 
 "On the contrary, I think it is best for us to 
 keep cool, and say 'nothing to nobody about 
 nothing.' That's Chuck Conners' advice for all 
 such cases." 
 
 "Well, I'm going to get legal advice upon it. 
 If I don't call you up after two o'clock this 
 afternoon, you will know that I'm off to Europe 
 until this thing blows over." 
 
 "I wouldn't do it," advised Hartley, who did 
 not like the idea of being left alone to face the 
 trouble should it come. "Fancy being a week
 
 Cab No. 44 129 
 
 without any kind of news, looking forward to 
 being nabbed the moment you landed on the 
 other side, and hauled off to an English prison 
 to await extradition. Take my advice and stay 
 here. There's some mistake about something. 
 If what you think is so one thing is clear to me," 
 he added, with an attempt at a laugh: "you will 
 lose your little bet, all right. The police will 
 have that fellow inside twenty-four hours, if the 
 ring belonged to Maynard." 
 
 Douglas could only spread his hands and 
 shrug his shoulders as he left the room, nodding 
 a hasty good-by, putting the pieces of his glasses 
 in his pocket. 
 
 Left to himself, Hartley's coolness disap- 
 peared. In a disturbed frame of mind he began 
 to walk up and down the office. Then he took 
 out a fresh cigar and set himself to think out a 
 course of conduct. 
 
 What had happened was pretty clear to him. 
 Some shrewd member of the Ardmore gang had 
 picked up an acquaintance with Maynard, some- 
 how, and had marked him for a plucking. The 
 little after-dinner bet was seized upon and 
 cleverly worked up as an opportunity. The man 
 that drove the cab must have been a member of 
 the gang, and the two of them had found that 
 Maynard resisted when they would not go to the
 
 130 Cab No. 44 
 
 Earlswood Hotel. Then they had knocked him 
 on the head. If the story ever came out, Hart- 
 ley, the smart business man, the director in fifty 
 companies, the president of the Hardware 
 Trust, would be the laughing-stock of the town. 
 Why is it that some men fear ridicule more than 
 imprisonment? 
 
 To one thing Hartley quickly made up his 
 mind. He would not consult any lawyers, and 
 he would refuse to say a word to any one about 
 either Maynard or Fletcher. He would deny 
 that he had ever known either of them. He 
 was sorry now that he had called in Johnson. 
 But perhaps it was lucky that he had not called 
 in the Pinkertons. They would haul him up at 
 once when they found the clue. So would the 
 regular police. Still, he felt uneasy about John- 
 son. To put a private detective on the track of 
 a thief, or one who he knew would turn out 
 to be a thief, was one thing. To have set a 
 detective to watch a man who, it now turned out, 
 was deliberately planning a cold-blooded mur- 
 der, was something else. The nasty part of it 
 was that he, Hartley, would appear to have 
 known the very hour, almost, that the crime was 
 to be committed. 
 
 He would have to stop Johnson's activity 
 somehow, and also to stop the detective's mouth.
 
 Cab No. 44 131 
 
 It would cost a pretty penny, probably, and 
 would perhaps expose him to blackmail for the 
 rest of his life. But he could not help that now. 
 He was in a hole, and he knew it. He would 
 have given ten thousand dollars twice over that 
 minute if he had never seen Johnson. 
 
 His meditations were interrupted by McBride, 
 who put his head in the door again. 
 
 "Man to see you, sin Says confidential busi- 
 ness. Sent here by Judge Windom." 
 
 "I don't want him now. Send him away. 
 No ! Stop a minute. Yes. Send him in. What 
 am I talking about?" 
 
 The man entered, closed the door behind him 
 quietly and walked up to Hartley, mentioning 
 his name. At the same time he opened his coat, 
 disclosing a detective's shield. Hartley had 
 never seen one before, and did not know it from 
 a fire badge; but the connecting circumstances 
 told him what it was. 
 
 "I am very sorry," he began, thinking of the 
 best way to get rid of his visitor as smoothly as 
 possible, "but we found it was all a mistake. 
 Something got filed away wrong. Important 
 documents, you know. Thought some one had 
 stolen them. Awfully sorry to trouble you." 
 He wished the man would not look at him so 
 hard, as if he knew he was lying. Hartley
 
 132 Cab No. 44 
 
 wondered how he would feel if one of those 
 keen-eyed fellows were to come and ask him 
 some questions about Fletcher and Maynard. 
 
 The detective turned his hat round in his 
 hands, and seemed not to know exactly what to 
 say. He muttered something about making a 
 report. In order to relieve the tension of the 
 situation, Mr. Hartley pulled out a roll of bills 
 and offered the man a twenty, telling him he was 
 sorry there was nothing for him to report. 
 Everything was all right now. 
 
 In another minute he was alone again, wish- 
 ing that Johnson could be disposed of as easily.
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 AFTER pacing up and down his office for 
 half an hour, without coming to any 
 conclusion about anything except to 
 keep his mouth shut, Hartley suddenly deter- 
 mined to send for his carriage and drive up to 
 Dr. Ramie's. If Douglas went to Europe, he 
 and the doctor would be the only ones left. 
 They should have an understanding. 
 
 The doctor took Hartley into his private 
 room and locked the door. Yes, he had seen 
 the papers and had recognized the ring. He did 
 not seem as much excited about the matter as 
 Hartley had expected, but 'he was insistent on 
 the importance of their keeping quiet. 
 
 Dr. Ramie explained that he had never seen 
 Fletcher before that dinner at Green's, and 
 that he knew him only as a friend of Maynard. 
 How long Maynard had known him, or where 
 he had met him, the doctor had no idea. The 
 whole thing looked to him now, he said, as if 
 Maynard had been marked for a victim for some 
 time past, and that Fletcher must be an ad- 
 venturer of some kind. These views so closely 
 agreed with Hartley's own that he came very
 
 134 Cab No. 44 
 
 near making the mistake of telling the doctor 
 that he was quite right. Catching himself just 
 in time, he went to the other extreme, and tried 
 to put the doctor off the track. 
 
 "But why siiould Fletcher kill Maynard for 
 the money, doctor, when he was to get it anyway 
 by being allowed to rob him of it?" 
 
 "That is what is puzzling me," answered the 
 doctor slowly. "I think that Fletcher must have 
 refused to go to the hotel, or something must 
 have excited Maynard's suspicions at the last 
 moment. These fellows often get too eager 
 when the game is near an end, you know, and 
 Maynard may have become alarmed. He may 
 have wanted to go somewhere else. I cannot 
 see how they got into the same cab unless that 
 was the case. I thought Fletcher was to be at 
 the hotel beforehand, so as to be ready to rob 
 Maynard as soon as he arrived. They probably 
 had words in the cab, and Fletcher, seeing the 
 game was up, threw off all disguise and grabbed 
 Maynard by the throat, or stabbed him, or 
 something. He must have had a confederate on 
 the box, driving the cab, unless he killed the 
 driver, too." 
 
 "But what would excite Maynard's suspi- 
 cions? You don't suppose that he had found out 
 Fletcher's real character, do you, and was afraid
 
 Cab No. 44 
 
 to carry out the scheme we had agreed on? I 
 think perhaps that is why the pocket-book was 
 empty. Maynard may not have liked to trust 
 himself with so much money in the company of 
 a forger." 
 
 "A forger! What do you mean?" 
 
 Mr. Hartley turned very pale. He saw the 
 slip he had made. "I didn't mean a forger. I 
 meant an amateur thief, you understand. I was 
 thinking that we had agreed it was to be a 
 forgery, or something of that kind." 
 
 The doctor evidently did not understand. He 
 looked at his visitor so critically that Hartley 
 winced, but could not think of anything further 
 to say. It flashed across Hartley's mind to take 
 the doctor into his confidence as to his dealings 
 with Johnson ; but that would at once betray the 
 fact that he had acted in shockingly bad faith 
 with regard to the wager. 
 
 "Well, doctor," he said at length, "what are 
 you going to do about it? It seems to me that 
 we are all in a nice mess." 
 
 "Do?" said the doctor, as if coming out of a 
 dream about something. "Do nothing. Keep 
 absolutely quiet. Ask no questions. Make no 
 mention of either Fletcher or Maynard to any 
 one. None of our friends knows that we have
 
 136 Cab No. 44 
 
 ever met Fletcher. You met him as my guest 
 only. Ever see him anywhere else?" 
 
 "No. How about your part of it? If the 
 whole thing comes out, where do you stand?" 
 
 "I am not worrying. I have your checks in 
 the safe there, and I expect to collect a hundred 
 from you on the side." 
 
 "Oh, you do, eh? I guess not." 
 
 "I certainly do. Look here, Hartley. You 
 are unnecessarily excited about this affair 
 because you have a guilty conscience. That 
 makes you forget how little other people know. 
 I never lose sight of the fact that trouble must 
 find you, unless you go hunting for it. What 
 is it that you are so alarmed about? They have 
 found a cab and parts of a body. The body has 
 not even been identified yet " 
 
 "Why, that ring gives the whole thing away." 
 
 "Did you recognize it the moment you saw 
 the picture of it?" 
 
 "Why, no. To tell the truth, I didn't. Doug- 
 las told me it was Maynard's ring." 
 
 "Well, Douglas won't tell any one else. He 
 called me up on the 'phone and asked me if I 
 had seen the picture of the ring in the papers. 
 I turned the conversation at once, because you 
 never know who is listening at a telephone. I
 
 Cab No. 44 137 
 
 sent him a note immediately, warning him to 
 keep his mouth shut." 
 
 "He's going to Europe this afternoon." 
 "It does not matter where he goes. We are 
 going to stay here. At least I am. We must 
 remember that the police have not yet estab- 
 lished the fact that it was Maynard that was 
 killed in that cab. They are also a very long 
 way from finding out who it was that was in the 
 cab with him. If it were not for the pocket-book 
 I should be willing to bet that Fletcher did not 
 know anything about the cab. I have read the 
 newspaper accounts very carefully, and what I, 
 as a doctor, cannot for the life of me under- 
 stand is Why a murderer should stop to cut up 
 a body in a cab, with the thermometer below 
 freezing, instead of throwing the whole thing 
 into the river. To hack off the head would have 
 destroyed the identity. I have had some experi- 
 ence in amputations, and that job on the dock, 
 if it was done on the dock, must have taken an 
 hour. Then I cannot see how a man in a cab 
 could carry out such a piece of work without 
 the knowledge and assistance of the cabman. 
 There must have been an accomplice. Then an- 
 other thing is that Fletcher would surely never 
 have been so foolish as to return to Green's to
 
 I3'8 Cab No. 44 
 
 deliver an empty pocket-book if he had just com- 
 mitted a murder." 
 
 "But there was blood on the pocket-book 
 when you got it, you remember. You thought 
 Fletcher had cut his finger." 
 
 "Yes, I remember that very well, and it has 
 worried me quite a bit. Still, I cannot think 
 that Fletcher, knowing even as little of the man 
 as I do, could be guilty of such a crime. Be- 
 tween you and me," looking at his visitor sharply 
 out of the corner of his eye, "I should not be at 
 all surprised if it turned out that Maynard had 
 been killed by some one else, after Fletcher had 
 left him at the Earlswood Hotel." 
 
 "But they never went to the hotel." 
 
 "Indeed! How do you know that? That 
 is a very important piece of evidence if you can 
 prove it." 
 
 This time Hartley turned scarlet. "The fact 
 is," he stammered, thinking hard and fast, and 
 getting redder, if that were possible, every 
 second "the fact is I was a little worried about 
 that pocket-book being empty, and as I couldn't 
 get Maynard on the 'phone in the morning, I 
 went up to the Earlswood, thinking he might 
 still be there." 
 
 "Indeed !" drawled the doctor. "And where 
 is the hotel? I never heard of it before."
 
 Cab No. 44 139 
 
 This was a poser. Hartley had not the 
 slightest idea where the hotel was. He stam- 
 mered something about having driven there in a 
 cab and not noticing particularly, and so forth, 
 and then, beginning to feel decidedly uncomfort- 
 able, he concluded to take his leave. 
 
 As he went down the steps he congratulated 
 himself that he had kept his secret about John- 
 son. It was some satisfaction to think that he 
 had found out all that the doctor knew without 
 telling anything himself. It might have hurt 
 his pride somewhat had he known that the 
 doctor also had his little secret. There was one 
 little incident which the doctor had not men- 
 tioned to his visitor, probably because he did not 
 think it necessary. This was that as soon as the 
 false number on the cab was discovered, and the 
 owner named, the doctor went round to see the 
 man. Having hired cabs from that stable many 
 times, and being a good customer, the doctor 
 felt at ease in taking the stable-owner into his 
 confidence and telling him that although the 
 cabman was unable to recollect the house from 
 which the cab had run away or had been stolen, 
 the fact was that cab No. 1 144 had disappeared 
 from in front of his own office, and that the cab- 
 man's fare, who had given the driver five 
 dollars, was one of his patients.'
 
 140 Cab No. 44 
 
 "Now," the doctor went on, "you know it 
 might hurt my practice quite a little if this were 
 known, and I don't want any notoriety of that 
 kind. The man that came to my office in the 
 cab is a prominent man; one of my best patients. 
 I was out at the time. He went with the driver 
 to look for the cab and didn't come back. I 
 want to be candid with you and tell you the 
 whole story. It appears that he invited the 
 driver inside, and they had several drinks; that 
 is, the cabman did. While they were inside fill- 
 ing up with whisky the cab-horse ran away, or 
 some one ran off with it. Now, that is not a nice 
 story to get into the papers about my office, is 
 it? I should have pictures of my place in all the 
 papers, and a mob of loafers round the door. 
 Why, it would ruin my practice." 
 
 The stable-owner shook his head, as if he 
 realized that it was a bad business. The doctor 
 went on: 
 
 "Now I don't want your driver to freshen up 
 his memory any more than necessary, and " 
 
 "That'll be all right, sir," interrupted the 
 liveryman, beginning to understand what was 
 wanted of him. 
 
 "What I am coming to is this," the doctor 
 continued* "Your cab was damaged quite a bit, 
 I understand, and your driver was locked up,
 
 Cab No. 44 141 
 
 and all that sort of thing. Now let me pay you 
 fifty toward the damage to the cab, and if 
 there is anything left, make a Christmas present 
 of it to the driver; but give him to understand 
 that he is to forget where he went that night. 
 Is that fair?" 
 
 The liveryman insisted that it was not the 
 doctor's fault that the cab was "all mussed up," 
 as he expressed it; but he did not like to refuse 
 the fifty, and he promised the doctor that noth- 
 ing should be said about where the cab was when 
 the horse ran away. He always protected his 
 customers, and the doctor was a good one.
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 
 AS the days passed, the headlines in the 
 daily papers referring to the cab 
 murder became smaller and smaller. 
 All attempts to find any further portions of the 
 body had failed, and no one had recognized the 
 ring as Maynard's; or if they had, they had 
 not told the police. 
 
 What was stranger still, according to the 
 papers, was that there was not the slightest clue 
 to the driver of the cab. That any man should 
 stop a runaway horse in the street, or should 
 steal a horse and cab and drive it all over New 
 York without leaving a trace, was something 
 that the detectives could not understand. The 
 murderer might be a shrewd and intelligent man, 
 they said, but any one in the cab-driver class 
 should be easily traced; if by nothing else, 
 through the betrayal of his confidence by his 
 friends. He would be sure to talk of the ex- 
 ploit to some one unless he were an accomplice 
 himself. 
 
 As there were no new developments, at least 
 none that were given out to the press, the whole 
 thing seemed to be passing from the public 
 142
 
 Cab No. 44 143 
 
 mind. All that was necessary to blot it out en- 
 tirely was another big sensation. On the fifth- 
 day that sensation came, and all the news about 
 cab No. 44 was tucked away in the inside pages 
 of the papers without even a subhead over it. 
 
 Hartley was congratulating himself on the 
 success of his policy of silence. Nothing had 
 happened to disturb his peace of mind so far. 
 The only thing that worried him was the non- 
 appearance of Johnson. He had not seen the 
 detective since he had advanced the money to 
 engage the services of the charming Mr. 
 Doremus. Nothing would have pleased Hart- 
 ley better than to know he had seen the last of 
 Johnson; but that astute individual was not at 
 all anxious to lose sight of Hartley. 
 
 When they had parted at their last interview 
 Johnson had carried out his avowed intention of 
 going back to the Realton to see what had be- 
 come of that bag. A cigar to the head porter 
 and a little casual talk about nothing in particu- 
 lar led to the proposition to have another look 
 at Mr. James Walton's room. That was on 
 Friday morning. 
 
 The room was empty. 
 
 Johnson was worried. The porter assured 
 him that no baggage had been taken from that 
 room on a call from the office, but he suggested
 
 144 Cab No. 44 
 
 that a guest might take hand-baggage down and 
 put it in the checkroom. A careful search of 
 the checkroom could not be undertaken until 
 some time between four and six in the morning 
 unless Johnson wanted to get out a search-war- 
 rant, but for a slight consideration the head 
 porter managed things so that the detective could 
 look over the bags that had been checked since 
 Wednesday. 
 
 Neither that search nor the one that took 
 place in the early hours of the morning showed 
 any trace of the bag. Nevertheless, it was there. 
 In devoting his attention to the Ardmore bag, 
 Johnson had not observed another very ordinary 
 bag which was under Walton's bed at the time 
 of the detective's first visit to the room. The 
 bag that was under the bed was now in the 
 checkroom, and the Ardmore bag was inside it 
 with some of Mr. James Walton's effects. 
 
 Finding himself off the scent of the bag itself, 
 Johnson strolled round to the hotel again in 
 the afternoon and tried to gather some informa- 
 tion as to the movements of the bag's owner. 
 No one had seen Mr. Walton. The head por- 
 ter did not think he had left the hotel, as guests 
 always gave up their keys, and the office then 
 gave notice to the maids to change the rooms. 
 
 "Fact is," the porter added, "I've been
 
 Cab No. 44 145 
 
 bothered so much since yesterday about that cab 
 that I haven't had time to think about much 
 else." 
 
 "What cab was that?" 
 
 "Why, this here cab No. 44. It was around 
 here that night, and the gent that was with it 
 must have been the guy that was killed, or the 
 one that did it." 
 
 "Couldn't you recognize the man?" 
 
 "Yes, I guess I could, although it was pretty 
 dark and I didn't pay much attention to him. 
 Being new here, I don't know the customers at 
 this hotel yet, you know. What I'm sorry for 
 was that I didn't notice the driver. As soon as 
 I handed it out that No. 44 was waiting around 
 here that night, the fly cops come up by the 
 dozen and pumped me dry, and all the reporters 
 got the story of my life and some of 'em took 
 my picture. To-day they was after me hot and 
 heavy, and seemed more anxious to know if the 
 man had a ring on his finger or not. I didn't 
 see no ring. As to the driver, all I noticed about 
 him was that he was most too polite for a cabby. 
 Touched his hat a bit too much. English style, 
 you know." 
 
 ''Wasn't the man in the cab a guest of the 
 hotel? Didn't he dine here or anything?" 
 
 "Can't say as to that. The fly cops asked me
 
 146 Cab No. 44 
 
 all that. He went into the hotel and was inside 
 half an hour, I suppose. When he came out he 
 went over to have a talk to the cabby. That's 
 when I remember telling him his cab was No. 
 44. That's the last I seen of him. I suppose 
 the guy that was killed was inside the cab all 
 the time, already cut up, maybe." 
 
 Johnson went into the lounging room and lit 
 a cigar. After picking out a comfortable chair 
 he sat down and began to think, turning over in 
 his mind various possibilities, some of which 
 were very improbable. Among these was the 
 possibility that Mr. Walton might have been the 
 man with the cab. He got up and went back to 
 the head porter, and asked him if he had heard 
 any directions given to the driver of that cab 
 to go to the Earlswood Hotel, for instance. No, 
 he had not. Did he think it at all possible that 
 Mr. Walton might have been the man that came 
 in the cab? No, he was quite sure it was not. 
 He knew Mr. Walton by sight, and had received 
 a very liberal tip from the gentleman. 
 
 Johnson sat down again and did more think- 
 ing. Then he questioned several of the clerks 
 and other persons who were on watch Thursday 
 night, to see if any of them could recollect a man 
 that had dropped into the hotel for half an 
 hour or so. It would seem that hundreds of
 
 Cab No. 44 147 
 
 men might have done so without attracting the 
 slightest attention. 
 
 Finally he went to the manager. 
 
 After considerable sparring, during which 
 Johnson felt that something was being held back, 
 he gathered that a gentleman had called for Mr. 
 James Walton on Thursday night, and that this 
 gentleman was personally known to the man- 
 ager, who did not wish to disclose his identity. 
 The detective was sharp enough to see his ad- 
 vantage and to make the most of it, so that the 
 manager finally agreed, on the understanding 
 that Johnson would consider the matter as 
 strictly confidential, to send him up to have a 
 talk with Mr. Maynard. Johnson could then 
 personally confirm some of the things that the 
 manager had taken the liberty of telling Mr. 
 Maynard in order to put him on his guard. 
 
 Johnson rejoiced inwardly. He had picked 
 up another clue. He had found a man that knew 
 Mr. Walton. 
 
 So the reason that Hartley had not seen any- 
 thing of Johnson for nearly a week was that 
 Johnson was hunting high and low for Maynard 
 and had put a relief watch on his apartment 
 night and day. 
 
 The janitor told him that Mr. Miaynard had 
 left no word as to how long he would be away.
 
 148 Cab No. 44 
 
 He often went away for a week or two without 
 saying anything about it. Being a bachelor, 
 there was no reason why he should explain his 
 movements to any one. 
 
 J 
 
 While engaged in his search for Maynard, 
 Johnson had looked up many of the retired bro- 
 ker's old business haunts and had made minute 
 inquiries as to his habits and his connections. 
 He had found an old servant that had often 
 waited on him at table and had overheard many 
 things, but nothing that would throw any light 
 on his probable destination, if he went off on a 
 trip by himself. 
 
 During the vigils of these two or three days 
 Johnson had done a great deal more thinking 
 and had constructed and rejected a number of 
 theories. What bothered him was to reconcile 
 Mr. Hartley's knowledge of Mr. James Wal- 
 ton's intended movements and the fact that the 
 movements had not taken place. That Mr. 
 Hartley was very much astonished at Mr. Wal- 
 ton's failure to arrive at the Earlswood Hotel 
 was clear. That he did not know what had pre- 
 vented that arrival was also clear. By putting 
 this and that together, Johnson came to the con- 
 clusion that it was Mr. Maynard that had in- 
 terfered with or prevented Mr. Walton's arrival 
 at the Earlswood Hotel. Consequently, Mr,
 
 Cab No. 44 149 
 
 Maynard probably knew the direction in which 
 Mr. Walton had actually gone. What he would 
 very much like to know now was, whether or not 
 Mr. Hartley was acquainted with Mr. Maynard 
 as well as with Mr. Walton. If so, it was just 
 possible that he could throw some light on the 
 matter if he knew that Mr. Maynard and Mr. 
 Walton were together at the time that one of 
 them should have gone to the Earlswood Hotel. 
 The idea was gradually becoming a conviction 
 in Johnson's own mind that Mr. Walton and 
 Mr. Maynard were together in cab No. 44 on 
 Thursday night. 
 
 Johnson had carefully noted the time of the 
 cab's arrival at the hotel, as given him by the 
 head porter. He found that it agreed exactly 
 with the time of the call that was afterward 
 canceled, but still stood on the stub, for Mr. 
 James Walton. When the manager's descrip- 
 tion of Mr. Maynard was repeated to the head 
 porter, without giving the porter the slightest 
 hint that it was the manager's, he admitted that 
 it was pretty close to the appearance of the man 
 that got out of the cab when it arrived at the 
 hotel that night. 
 
 Having fully satisfied himself that both May- 
 nard and Walton had completely disappeared on 
 the same night and at about the same time, John-
 
 150 Cab No. 44 
 
 son made up his mind to put his theory to the 
 test. If he were correct, he was fairly on the 
 way to make a name for himself as the greatest 
 detective in New York. If he were wrong, he 
 had nothing to lose. 
 
 The difficulty would be to get the truth from 
 Mr. Hartley, if there were anything of impor- 
 tance to conceal. He realized that. Knowing 
 the psychological value of complete surprise, he 
 determined that he would not approach Mr. 
 Hartley with any roundabout questions as to 
 whether he was acquainted with Mr. Maynard 
 or not, but would put a question to him that 
 would be answered by his manner, truthfully, 
 completely, and at once. 
 
 Accordingly, next morning Hartley found 
 the detective pacing up and down the corridor 
 waiting for him. 
 
 "Hello, Johnson! Where have you been all 
 this time? Come right in." 
 
 They went in, and it was Johnson that sug- 
 gested their going into the inner and most 
 private office. Having carefully shut all the 
 doors behind him and having made sure that 
 they could not be overheard, he sat down, laid 
 his slouch hat on the desk, and stroked his chin. 
 
 Hartley offered him a cigar. He took it and 
 struck a match. After a few puffs, he took it
 
 Cab No. 44 151 
 
 from his mouth and looked at Jt critically, as 
 if to see if it was well alight. Then he turned 
 to Hartley, who was tilted back in his chair, 
 evidently nervous, but expecting Johnson to open 
 the conversation. 
 
 "Well, Mr. Hartley," the detective began, 
 speaking with great deliberation, "I have located 
 your man. At least, part of him." 
 
 "The dickens you have!" exclaimed Mr. 
 Hartley. 
 
 "Yes, sir. I may as well cut it short, sir," 
 flicking the fire from the end of his cigar and 
 looking straight at Hartley. "Your friend, Mr. 
 James Walton, was the man that was murdered 
 in that cab last week, and the man that killed 
 him was Mr. Maynard." 
 
 In spite of himself, Mr. Hartley had to laugh. 
 
 The psychological effect of the sudden and 
 unexpected connection of those two names with 
 the murder was completely overshadowed by 
 the absurdity of the supposition that Maynard 
 was the murderer. Hartley had the presence of 
 mind to continue the laugh until he had time to 
 get out of his chair and turn his back on Johnson 
 for a moment or two, taking a few steps across 
 the room. 
 
 In those few steps Hartley's keen intellect had 
 ample time to see the trap laid for him by the
 
 152 Cab No. 44' 
 
 mention of Maynard's name. While he could 
 not imagine how the detective had hit upon the 
 connection between the two men and had almost 
 guessed a riddle which the whole police force of 
 New York had been unable to solve, he saw that 
 he must pretend to be entirely ignorant of any 
 such possible connection himself. 
 
 "So you think the only way to account for Mr. 
 Walton's disappearance is to assume that he was 
 murdered, eh?" Then he laughed again and 
 went on glibly: "Well, if you know the mur- 
 derer Mayville, did you say? all you have to 
 do is to go and arrest your man Mayville. 
 Where did you pick him up?" 
 
 Johnson realized that he was at fault, but he 
 had another shot in his locker, carefully prepared 
 in advance. He changed his tone to one of al- 
 most impudent familiarity and raised his voice. 
 
 "Well, it's pretty clear to me, Mr. Hartley, 
 that you know more about Mr. Walton's move- 
 ments that Thursday night than any one else 
 does. And if we took you up to headquarters 
 and put you through the third degree, we'd find 
 out something." 
 
 Douglas' example of going to Europe and 
 Judge Windom's advice about private detectives 
 were about equally prominent in Hartley's 
 mind for a moment. He realized instantly that
 
 Cab No. 44 153 
 
 he had placed himself at the mercy of the man 
 before him. The question was how to escape. 
 
 Johnson's tone was distinctly defiant. Prob- 
 ably the best course would be to adopt the same 
 attitude. Hartley sat down and faced him 
 squarely. 
 
 "See here, Johnson, I didn't employ you to 
 question me or to pry into my affairs. I em- 
 ployed you to watch a certain man, and to see 
 where he went to, and to keep me posted so that 
 we could lay our hands on him should the neces- 
 sity arise. You made a botch of it, and lost him 
 the first jump he made. And you call yourself 
 a first-class detective, and run an agency ! Bah !" 
 
 Johnson squirmed. This did not promise 
 very well for the realization of his dream of 
 being considered the greatest detective in New 
 York. Hartley went on : 
 
 "Now, I don't know anything about Mr. 
 Walton, who he is, or where he comes from, and 
 my reasons for wanting to keep track of him are 
 my business, which I can explain to the satis- 
 faction of any one, headquarters or anywhere 
 else, if necessary; but I shall not do so to you, 
 sir," raising his voice as he saw his advantage. 
 "You might guess my reasons, knowing my 
 financial connections and Mr. Walton's voca- 
 tion." This was a chance shot, but it went
 
 154 Cab No. 44 
 
 home. "When we suspect a man is likely to 
 pass counterfeit money on any institution with 
 which we are connected, we like to be able to lay 
 hands on him." This with an emphatic nod. 
 "Now, if you have any absurd theory that the 
 man I employed you to keep track of has been 
 murdered by a person called Mayville, why, go 
 and work out that clue yourself, but you don't 
 do it at my expense, sir. I want you to clearly 
 understand that. Now, how much do I owe 
 you? And your services are no longer re- 
 quired." 
 
 This did not suit Johnson at all. He saw that 
 he was choking the goose that laid the golden 
 eggs. That would never do, so he hastened 
 to make all manner of apologies. Of course he 
 was "only just mentioning it" when he said 
 that about headquarters, and hoped Mr. Hart- 
 ley would not take any offense. And. Mr. 
 Doremus was getting along so nicely, although 
 he had not yet succeeded in getting an introduc- 
 tion to the girl. Some girls were so difficult to 
 approach, and hurry would be fatal to success. 
 But Doremus would soon know all about Mr. 
 iWalton and who he was and where he came 
 from. He would also find out whether he was 
 still alive. 
 
 At the mention of Doremus and the possi-
 
 Cab No. 44 
 
 bility of unraveling the mystery of Walton's an- 
 tecedents, if not of his whereabouts, Hartley's 
 second thoughts were that it might be better to 
 continue on good terms with Johnson for the 
 present. If he turned him loose, he might go 
 to the police with his theory, and they might 
 investigate. Hartley felt that he could not brow- 
 beat them. When he proposed to Johnson to 
 go on with the case, he stipulated and insisted on 
 the condition that there should not be the slight- 
 est communication with the police about any- 
 thing while Johnson was in Hartley's pay. 
 
 "If you have any murder clues to work out, 
 do it when I am done with you," was his parting 
 injunction. "Or at least do it on your own hook. 
 Don't help the police on their job. They won't 
 give you any credit for it. Call on me for all 
 the money you want for yourself and Doremus. 
 You will never get as much by blabbing to the 
 police about your suspicions as you will be at- 
 tending strictly to your own business and making 
 your reports to me." 
 
 The mere mention of being allowed all the 
 money he wanted for expenses settled in John- 
 son's mind any doubts that he might have had 
 as to his future course. The prospective fame 
 would keep. He could work on his theory of
 
 156 Cab No. 44 
 
 the murder while he was trying to locate some 
 of Walton's friends. Perhaps he was mistaken 
 after all ; but he was getting paid now, whether 
 he was right or wrong.
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 IN spite of his apparent confidence that he 
 had "fixed" Johnson, as he expressed it, 
 Hartley felt uneasy. If Johnson had 
 been able to work out a clue that was so near 
 the truth, some other person might do so. Per- 
 haps other detectives were already on that trail, 
 and were about to spring a surprise upon him; 
 perhaps to arrest him. Somehow or other, that 
 was his great dread arrest, followed by ridi- 
 cule. Of the two, he feared most the laugh. 
 
 He was in this frame of mind as he sat down 
 to lunch at the club, when he happened to see 
 Mr. Groscup, Frank Douglas' lawyer, enter 
 the room. Beckoning him to the table he asked 
 the attorney to join him, and was glad to find 
 that Groscup had no other engagement. Hart- 
 ley had got to the point where he felt that he 
 needed legal advice, and he thought it better to 
 trust a man that already knew the case than to 
 make a fres'h confidant. As a preliminary, 
 Hartley broached the subject of Douglas' ab- 
 sence and the reason for it, and said that he 
 would like to retain Mr. Groscup as his coun- 
 sel also. 
 
 157
 
 15$ Cab No. 44 
 
 "If we are going to get into a mess over this 
 piece of foolishness," he said, "we may as well 
 have you engaged for the defense." 
 
 The lawyer assured him that there was no 
 immediate danger, but he enlarged upon the im- 
 portance of Mr. Hartley's not betraying him- 
 self. "Nothing is so difficult," he explained, 
 "as for a person with a guilty knowledge of 
 anything to conceal the fact that he knows the 
 true state of the case, when he is talking about 
 the matter to another person who has a wrong 
 idea of it. In spite of himself, he will make 
 slips; or what is just as bad, he will hesitate; 
 showing that he is thinking of some way to 
 frame an answer to a question which an inno- 
 cent person would reply to immediately," 
 
 He went on to say that it would be neces- 
 sary for Mr. Hartley to be very careful of his 
 conversation with any but his most intimate 
 friends. "You never know who is a detective 
 these days," he continued, "or who is ready to 
 rush off and give hints of things that have been 
 told them in strict confidence. Then, the first 
 thing you know, the police get hold of the story, 
 and there you are." 
 
 Hartley explained the difficulty of avoiding 
 people, his business bringing him in contact 
 with so many. He did not like the idea of run-
 
 Cab No. 44 159 
 
 ning away from the city, as Douglas had done. 
 In his own home, with his family, he was safe, 
 and he could not be stopped and questioned in 
 his private carriage. He seldom or never rode 
 in the cars. The trouble would be to avoid the 
 people that came to the office. They would 
 come to see him without his having the slightest 
 idea of what they wanted, and many persons 
 whom he had never seen sent in their cards. 
 
 "Then don't see any strangers," was the 
 lawyer's advice. "There must be some way of 
 finding out whether the people that want to see 
 you are known to you or not or what their 
 business is. Some of our trust magnates have 
 eluded the most skilful process-servers for 
 months." 
 
 "The trouble is, they come there and find me 
 in, or they have seen me go into the office; and 
 then it's no use telling them I am not in. If 
 they are told I am engaged, they will wait for 
 hours sometimes. I have found them in the 
 corridor long after the office has been closed. 
 You have no idea how men with money are 
 hounded." 
 
 "Why not have some one in your office repre- 
 sent you? Have you no one in the office you 
 could trust to pretend he was Mr. Hartley? 
 People who did not know you would not detect
 
 160 Cab No. 44 
 
 the difference. Get some one about your own 
 age. The chief thing to avoid is visits from 
 people that may have suspicions and who want 
 to verify them. They will come and spring sud- 
 den statements or questions on you ; hypothetical 
 questions, we call them." 
 
 Hartley winced as he recalled his recent inter- 
 view with Johnson. 
 
 "You must be ready for all kinds of traps," 
 the lawyer continued. "For instance, some one 
 may call you up on the telephone and ask you 
 for Maynard's address, simply to betray you 
 into the acknowledgment that you know May- 
 nard. You should be especially careful of 
 women. They are great information getters. 
 If any strange woman calls on you, don't let her 
 see you, especially if she is good-looking. You 
 are in a bad mess with this thing, and if the 
 whole story ever comes out, you will certainly be 
 charged as an accessory before the fact." 
 
 "It was all a foolish after-dinner affair." 
 
 "Many little 'after-dinner' affairs have got 
 the diners into serious trouble before now, Mr. 
 Hartley. Take my advice. Keep quiet, see no 
 one, and get some confidential man in your office 
 to see strangers before they get to you. For 
 my part, if it is any satisfaction to you to know 
 it, I think it will turn out eventually that
 
 Cab No. 44 161 
 
 Fletcher had nothing to do with Maynard's 
 murder. That probably happened some time 
 after Fletcher left him. My theory," continued 
 the lawyer, "would be that some one knew May- 
 nard had that money on him that night, but of 
 course had no idea that Fletcher was to relieve 
 him of it, and that this person was the one that 
 committed the murder. If the mystery is ever 
 cleared up, I think you will find that is it. But 
 for this unfortunate complication of your little 
 after-dinner joke, I should advise going to the 
 police at once, and telling them that the body 
 in the river, was Maynard's." 
 
 "That would never do!" exclaimed Hartley 
 hastily, shivering at the very thought. Then he 
 added: "The only thing that makes me doubt 
 your theory is that I think if Fletcher had noth- 
 ing to do with it, he would come out of his hid- 
 ing at once, so as to clear himself of the suspicion 
 of the murder." j 
 
 "There is no suspicion of murder lying against 
 Fletcher, my dear sir. No one has made as 
 much as a guess at the identity of the corpse, 
 much less at the name of the murderer. That 
 is where your guilty conscience shows you are 
 ahead of the facts known to the public." 
 
 Hartley smiled as he recalled Johnson's 
 theory, but he deemed it unwise to say anything
 
 1 62, Cab No. 44 
 
 about that to Mr. Groscup. It might lead to 
 unpleasant questions. 
 
 "From what Douglas told me," continued the 
 lawyer, "this Fletcher is a pretty smart fellow, 
 and stands to win quite a tidy sum if he suc- 
 ceeds in his little game of hide and seek." 
 
 "He's got all the money he'll ever make out 
 of it now. That's Maynard's five thousand. 
 The minute he shows up again, the police will 
 pinch him. They will never let him slip through 
 their fingers a second time." 
 
 "A second time!" exclaimed the lawyer, lift- 
 ing his eyebrows. "And pray when was the first 
 time the police had their fingers on Mr. Fletcher, 
 and what for?" 
 
 The lawyer's keen glance at Hartley's flushed 
 face showed that he had caught a glimpse of 
 some woolly hair in the woodpile. 
 
 Not knowing exactly what to say, Hartley 
 managed to imitate a laugh while he collected 
 his thoughts. Then he said lightly : 
 
 "Oh, I've always had a theory that it is never 
 the first offense with these criminals. Take any 
 of them, and look up his past, and you will find 
 it's only the hatching out of a bad egg." He 
 knew the answer did not satisfy the lawyer, who 
 was still looking at him quizzically. Feeling
 
 Cab No. 44 163 
 
 rather uncomfortable, he pulled out his watch, 
 and declared he must be going back to the office. 
 
 As he drove along, he could not help cursing 
 himself for the slip he had just made. The 
 lawyer's remarks had made a great impression 
 on him, and the closing incident of the conversa- 
 tion had amply demonstrated the truth of Gros- 
 cup's theory about the possession of guilty 
 knowledge. If he betrayed himself in that way 
 to a person that had no suspicions whatever, 
 what would happen if he were skilfully ques- 
 tioned by some one who knew, or who fancied 
 he knew, the facts? 
 
 Turning over in his mind the best way to 
 avoid any possible trap that might be laid for 
 him by persons coming to his office, he concluded 
 that it would be just as well to follow the 
 lawyer's advice and have some one to take his 
 place, in case he should be asked for by 
 strangers. Any person that knew him would not 
 be deceived, of course; but so many people asked 
 to see him who did not know whether they were 
 really talking to Mr. Hartley or not, that a sub- 
 stitute should answer very well. 
 
 The only question was to find a man of the 
 right age. He did not like to trust every one 
 with such a matter. It would lead to talk, and 
 perhaps to questions. The only person he cared
 
 164 Cab No. 44 
 
 to ask to undertake it was McBride. He was 
 rather young, of course; but the kind of people 
 Hartley was afraid of would probably not stop 
 to ask questions about ages. He would try it 
 for a day or two, and see how it worked. If 
 anything went wrong, it could easily be turned 
 off with some excuse or other about its being a 
 mistake on the caller's part, or something like 
 that. 
 
 He called McBride into his office and ex- 
 plained briefly what he wanted done, without 
 giving the true reason for it, however. His 
 confidence in his clerk stopped short of that 
 point. He harped upon being bothered so much 
 by beggars and such persons shortly before the 
 holidays, and suggested that McBride should sit 
 at his desk for a few days, while he would 
 occupy the inner sanctum, the door of which 
 was visible only when one was well inside the 
 private office. 
 
 "You need not say who you are, you know," 
 the older man explained. "If they see you sit- 
 ting there, they will think you must be Mr. 
 Hartley. Tell the boys that if any one asks for 
 me to show him into this office, just as if I were 
 here. Then you can tackle him. If it's any 
 one I know or want to see," he went on lightly, 
 "I can step out and say howdy-do. But if it's
 
 Cab No. 44 165 
 
 any one I don't want to see I shall trust to you to 
 dispose of them in your usual graceful manner. 
 I can hear what goes on from my little den, you 
 know."
 
 THURSDAY morning, the morning 
 after Hardy Maxwell, or Milton 
 Fletcher, or Stewart, or whatever his 
 name was, had dined at the Ohlstroms' and had 
 made his avowal, Helen Ohlstrom was awake 
 earlier than usual, and looked at herself in the 
 mirror with unaccustomed interest. It seemed 
 to her that by assuring herself that she was still 
 in the flesh, and not dreaming, she could get an 
 answer to the question that was continually run- 
 ning through her head : 
 
 "Am I engaged or am I not?" 
 
 Her preoccupation at breakfast was so evi- 
 dent that it attracted the attention of her 
 parents; but she turned aside their questions 
 with a laugh. Immediately after breakfast she 
 went out for a walk; but while she looked in 
 the shop windows, and occasionally went in for 
 a moment, she was conscious that she saw noth- 
 ing, or did not care about what she saw. Her 
 whole mind and imagination were occupied in 
 running over again and again everything that 
 had happened the night before. 
 
 She tried to recall Maxwell's exact words. 
 
 166
 
 Cab No. 44 167 
 
 She could still feel that first kiss upon her cheek. 
 And then, she had kissed him, had she not? 
 Yes, there could be no mistake about that. A 
 woman never forgets the first time she kisses a 
 man full upon the mouth. She could still feel 
 his powerful arms about her waist. She had 
 no idea that he was so strong; or was it that 
 she was so unresisting? And what was it that 
 he had said? How did he express it? Of 
 course she must be engaged! And yet he had 
 not exactly asked her to marry him. 
 
 He would surely call again that evening, and 
 then it would be settled. Perhaps he would send 
 her a note. Maybe a messenger would bring 
 something for her during the day; or was it the 
 proper thing for him to put the engagement ring 
 on her finger himself? In her heart she felt that 
 her faith in him was absolute, whether the en- 
 gagement ring was on her finger or not. 
 
 But Hardy Maxwell did not come that eve- 
 ning nor the next. He wrote no line : he spoke 
 no word. It was very strange. She did not like 
 to appear to be running after him, or she would 
 have sent a note to the club. On Sunday she was 
 certain he would call. Dressed in her best frock, 
 with her hair done up in most bewitching 
 fashion, she sat at the window watching for him 
 from two o'clock until tea time. Many a passer-
 
 1 68 Cab No. 44 
 
 by cast a longing glance at the window that Sun- 
 day afternoon. 
 
 After tea Helen went to the window again 
 and stood looking out into the deepening 
 shadows until her mother brought her back into 
 the room. Was there any suspicion in the 
 mother's heart of what was wrong? Did she 
 guess the truth when her daughter went up to 
 her own room shortly after eight o'clock and 
 locked herself in? Who knows? 
 
 Monday and Tuesday wore away and Wed- 
 nesday came, without a word or a sign from 
 Maxwell. The happy recollections, the eager 
 rehearsals of the events of the Wednesday be- 
 fore were changed to a feeling of mortification 
 and chagrin. Helen could not help telling her- 
 self that perhaps she had been hasty or foolish, 
 although she had gone too far to retrace her 
 steps. She had given her heart to Hardy Max- 
 well, and even if he had trampled on it, it was 
 still his. His pledge to secrecy worried her; 
 it added to her sense of humiliation. 
 
 But this suspense was becoming too much for 
 her. When her mother remarked that Mr. 
 Maxwell's calls had ceased, she did not answer. 
 When Mrs. Ohlstrom hinted that she feared 
 they had had a quarrel or something, Helen only 
 turned her head away to hide the gathering
 
 Cab No. 44 169 
 
 tears. Then the mother knew. All she could 
 do was to shake her head sadly and to express 
 a hope that things would turn out all right. 
 
 Madge annoyed her more than any one else. 
 Of course the girl had heard all about the 
 handsome young Englishman and knew of his 
 attentions to Helen. In fact, she was to have 
 met Mr. Maxwell that week and had learned 
 the reason why Helen had canceled the invita- 
 tion that had been given to her. Madge's idea 
 seemed to be that it would be better for Helen 
 to forget all about Maxwell, and to that end 
 she set herself to apply the commonplace remedy 
 of leading her friend to believe that he was not 
 worth remembering. 
 
 "Did it ever occur to you that he might be 
 married?" she demanded one day. "You know 
 so many of these Englishmen say nothing about 
 their domestic affairs." 
 
 "My uncle did not mention that he was a 
 married man," retorted Helen rather stiffly. 
 
 "Of course the introduction was not sent to 
 you. Perhaps your uncle was not aware what 
 an attractive niece he had. Heigh-ho! I sup- 
 pose it is another case of necessary disappear- 
 ance, like our mutual friend Mr. Lathrop." 
 
 "The two men are not in the same class," 
 replied Helen, flaring up, "although I have
 
 170 Cab No. 44 
 
 nothing to complain of with regard to Mr. 
 Lathrop. He was always a gentleman when he 
 was with me," and she shot a glance at Madge 
 that made the young lady wince and change 
 color. 
 
 "I am sorry I ever told you any of my 
 secrets," Madge retorted. "But," she added 
 almost spitefully, "it's better than having a 
 married man make love to you and go walking 
 with you almost every day, and then take French 
 leave." 
 
 "He's not married. It's a lie and you know 
 it," Helen snapped, stamping her foot, her eyes 
 blazing with anger. 
 
 "My! But your temper certainly does get 
 the best of you at times, Helen 1" answered 
 Madge. "It reminds me of the way you went 
 on when they found out Charlie Thorpe had 
 been stealing the money he used to spend so 
 freely for theater tickets and things. The way 
 you stood up for Charlie and insisted that it 
 was all a mistake made the rest of us laugh." 
 
 "They never proved it. I never believed a 
 word of it. Some people believe everything 
 they hear that is bad about a man, no matter 
 how good he has been to them. Charlie Thorpe 
 was a nice boy. I was awfully sorry for him. 
 I hope it will all come out right some day, be-
 
 Cab No. 44 171 
 
 cause I don't believe he was guilty at all, poor 
 fellow." 
 
 "Oh, they are all nice to you," retorted 
 Madge, standing up to go. "I never heard 
 you say a bad word about any one yet ; not even 
 about a woman. The way you begged off for 
 Annie Ordway used to amuse me immensely. 
 We thought at one time you were going to call 
 on her. She would have been a good match for 
 your friend Mr. Maxwell, apparently." 
 
 "Now, Madge," said Helen, rather sharply, 
 "I do not want to hear anything more on that 
 subject." 
 
 "Oh, I hope you will hear from him soon. 
 Perhaps he will call, or write, or something. 
 I must be off now," and with that she swept 
 out of the room.
 
 CHAPTER XX 
 
 SOMEHOW or other, that conversation 
 with Madge rankled. It had brought 
 forth in the words of another an idea 
 which Helen Ohlstrom had been trying to hide 
 from her own thoughts; the idea that Hardy 
 Maxwell might be a married man. 
 
 For the hundredth time she went over all 
 the possibilities that might prevent him from 
 communicating with her; but in spite of herself 
 she had to confess that only two of them offered 
 a reasonable explanation. He had met with an 
 accident that prevented him from writing, or 
 he had been trifling with her. 
 
 If it were an accident and he was not killed, 
 he surely could not be unconscious all this time, 
 and she should be the first person he would think 
 of on coming to himself. If he were killed, she 
 would have known of it somehow, surely. 
 
 She had heard of men that simply led girls 
 on, just to amuse themselves. Madge had con- 
 fessed to several experiences of that sort. If 
 Hardy Maxwell had been trifling with her, why 
 had he stopped when he did? It must be be- 
 cause he was a married man, and knew that she 
 172
 
 Cab No. 44 173 
 
 would inevitably find it out in time through 
 her relatives in England. Whether he was 
 married or not, his conduct was certainly most 
 dishonorable if he had simply dropped her, as 
 Madge insisted. She could not believe it; he 
 was so handsome and tall and strong, she told 
 herself, as if that were sufficient answer to every 
 doubt. 
 
 On Thursday morning she could bear the un- 
 certainty no longer. Putting on her things, she 
 went out with the idea of finding a telephone 
 pay-station and calling up the club where the 
 men in charge ought to know something about 
 Maxwell. 
 
 In answer to her question they were sorry 
 to say that they did not know any Mr. Max- 
 well there. Was he a member? No? Only a 
 visitor? Please wait a moment. 
 
 There was no such name on the visitors' list. 
 Probably the lady was mistaken in the name of 
 the club. 
 
 She did not think so, but it might be possible. 
 Good-by. 
 
 The result of her first inquiry was so unex- 
 pected that Helen felt completely prostrated. 
 She went out into the air as quickly as possible, 
 and tried to think what to do next. After walk-
 
 174 Cab No. 44 
 
 ing about for nearly an hour, she determined 
 to try again, and to telephone to Mr. Douglas. 
 
 Mr. Douglas had gone abroad. Very sorry. 
 
 After these two failures, Helen did not like 
 to call up any one else, and the only one she 
 could think of was Mr. Hartley. He had 
 known her father, and it might be awkward 
 if he recognized her name. That seemed the 
 only hope left, when she recollected Dr. Ramie. 
 How clearly all those names came back to her ! 
 How sharply she recalled that after-dinner 
 story during her walk with Hardy Maxwell. 
 How well he looked that day, and how admir- 
 ingly he had gazed at her as they kept step 
 together over th sand. And once, she remem- 
 bered, he had walked so close to her that she 
 could feel the pressure of his arm against her 
 own. So vivid was the recollection that she al- 
 most felt him still at her side. 
 
 With her memory running back over the 
 happy past, she forgot all about the telephone 
 until she had walked a long way. Then she 
 seemed to awake as from a dream, and remem- 
 bered the hard reality of her errand. She 
 stopped, turned back, and after finding a con- 
 venient telephone, called up Dr. Ramie's office. 
 
 It was not the doctor's office hour. He would 
 not be in again until late that evening.
 
 Cab No. 44 175 
 
 There was nothing to do now but to turn to 
 Mr. Hartley. She must find out something. 
 
 "A lady on the 'phone, asking if you are 
 in," was James McBride's report, a few minutes 
 later. 
 
 Hartley almost jumped out of his chair. "A 
 lady? Asking for me? No, no! Tell her I'm 
 not in town. Tell her I've gone to Europe 
 Florida Bermuda anything you like. Say I 
 won't be back this winter." 
 
 McBride could not help smiling at the earnest- 
 ness of the repudiation of the first call in a 
 woman's voice that he could recollect having 
 come over the telephone since he had been in 
 the service of Mr. George Hartley. But in- 
 stead of repeating his superior's emphatic mes- 
 sage, he answered with his softest and most 
 agreeable voice that he was very sorry, but Mr. 
 Hartley was not in the city. 
 
 Would he return soon? 
 
 He was not expected for some time. Could 
 they do anything for her? 
 
 The voice at the other end of the wire was 
 particularly attractive, and had a peculiar fas- 
 cination for McBride, who was not averse to 
 continuing the conversation. 
 
 Did he happen to know Mr. Maxwell's pres- 
 ent address?
 
 Ij6 Cab No. 44 
 
 Putting his hand over the transmitter, 
 McBride propounded this question to his su- 
 perior, who was standing by, evidently wish- 
 ing the connection to be cut off as soon as pos- 
 sible, but still curious to know who it was. 
 
 "Maxwell? No. Never heard of him," and 
 then to himself: "This is one of those traps, 
 sure as I live ! Wants me to ask if she doesn't 
 mean Maynard, so she gets off a name some- 
 thing like it." Then he added aloud: "No. 
 Tell her no, and shut her off." 
 
 In spite of this peremptory instruction, 
 McBride concluded the conversation as delib- 
 erately and as gracefully as possible, with many 
 regrets that he could not be of service to the 
 owner of the voice. He even went so far as 
 to make the unpardonable mistake of asking her 
 to call him up again if he could do anything 
 for her. This made Hartley so angry that he 
 snatched the receiver and hung it up himself. 
 
 "Cut those women out in future, James," he 
 commanded. "They're no good. Beggars; all 
 of them. They used to be book agents; now 
 they're simply beggars." 
 
 "Not exactly the voice of a book agent or 
 a beggar, sir," remarked McBride quietly. 
 "Quite a nice voice, in fact. Shouldn't wonder 
 if she were a very pretty girl."
 
 Cab No. 44 177 
 
 "You young fellows think every girl you 
 can't see must be a beauty," rejoined Hartley 
 with a scowl. "The world is full of Margery 
 Daws at your time of life. Come, let's get down 
 to business on these letters. I'll have that tele- 
 phone taken out if it gives much more trouble."
 
 CHAPTER XXI 
 
 THE next morning at breakfast, Mr. 
 Ohlstrom seemed to find the paper 
 more than usually interesting. He 
 was in the habit of standing it up in front of 
 his plate and reading between bites. Occasion- 
 ally he would clear his throat and read an item 
 aloud, but his selections were seldom of any 
 interest to his family. They were usually polit- 
 ical or financial news, or connected with some 
 of the enterprises in which he had been engaged 
 during his active life. 
 
 "I see they had a meeting of the directors 
 of the Tyler Trust Company yesterday, and 
 elected George Hartley president." Then he 
 read : " 'Mr. Hartley's views of the proper man- 
 agement of trust companies were listened to with 
 profound attention, and the soundness of his 
 financial principles called forth strong commen- 
 dation from all those that heard him.' ' After 
 a pause he observed: "Smart fellow, that 
 Hartley." 
 
 "Isn't he the president of the Hardware 
 Trust or something of that kind, papa?" Helen 
 asked. 
 
 178
 
 Cab No. 44 179 
 
 "That's he. Tricky dog, but smart. His 
 views of finance can be expressed in one sen- 
 tence, 'Get the other fellow's money.' ' 
 
 Mr. Ohlstrom read other items, but Helen 
 was not listening. She was thinking about that 
 conversation over the telephone. Mr. Hartley 
 must have been in the city yesterday; was per- 
 haps in his office at the very moment that she 
 called him up. "Tricky dog!" What did that 
 mean? Why had he denied himself to her? 
 She had not given any name. Who was the 
 pleasant-voiced man who had answered the tele- 
 phone? 
 
 That morning, about twelve o'clock, McBride 
 rose from the dignity of his desk in the private 
 office, with the intention of going into the sanc- 
 tum to ask Mr. Hartley a question. Happen- 
 ing to glance through the half-open door which 
 led to the outer office, he saw a remarkably hand- 
 some girl standing at the desk. At the same in- 
 stant the boy put his head in and handed 
 McBride a card. 
 
 "A lady to see Mr. Hartley, sir." 
 
 Before McBride had time to read the name, 
 the girl followed the card into the room. 
 
 "I am Miss Ohlstrom," she said briefly, and 
 smiled at the handsome young fellow that stood 
 blushing before her. McBride instantly recog-
 
 i8o Cab No. 44 
 
 nized the voice that he had heard over the tele- 
 phone the day before. He was so taken aback, 
 not only by her sudden appearance, but by the 
 vision of loveliness that she revealed with her 
 rosy cheeks and flashing eyes, that he was ab- 
 solutely speechless. 
 
 "What can I do for you?" he managed to 
 stammer, motioning her to a chair; an invita- 
 tion which she pretended not to see. 
 
 "I should like to see Mr. Hartley for a 
 moment." 
 
 At this announcement McBride fairly stag- 
 gered. Was he to continue his role and to say 
 that he was Mr. Hartley, after having told her 
 over the telephone the day before that Mr. 
 Hartley was not in town? Or should he call 
 Mr. Hartley from the inner room? The sud- 
 den recollection of the scene at his end of the 
 wire the day before vetoed his second thought. 
 Instead of answering immediately, he stepped 
 behind her and softly closed the door leading 
 to the outer office. A rapid glance at the door 
 of the sanctum assured him that the outer sound 
 door was wide open, so that Mr. Hartley could 
 hear all that passed, if he chose to listen. 
 McBride found himself wishing that his em- 
 ployer and his inner office were both at the 
 bottom of the sea.
 
 Cab No. '44 181 
 
 All this passed while he closed the door. Pull- 
 ing himself together, he laid the papers in his 
 hand upon the desk, and said quietly, with his 
 most graceful bow: "I am Mr. Hartley." As 
 he spoke he motioned once more to the chair 
 at the side of the desk. 
 
 The look of unconcealed astonishment on the 
 girl's face made him blush. He smiled as as- 
 suringly as he could, and added: "Is there any- 
 thing I can do for you?" 
 
 That was the second time he had said it. 
 The tone as well as the words struck her at 
 once. It was the same voice that had spoken 
 to her over the telephone the day before. 
 "Tricky dog" were the words that kept running 
 through her head. "What a handsome fellow 1" 
 she could not help adding to herself. 
 
 "It was Mr. George Hartley I wished to 
 see," she said, as she suddenly recollected that 
 Mr. Hartley must be a much older man. At 
 the same time she sank into the indicated chair. 
 
 "I am Mr. George Hartley." 
 
 She did not know exactly what to say, when 
 it occurred to her that this might be Mr. George 
 Hartley, Junior, if there were such a person. 
 His manner was certainly very polite and en- 
 couraging. Why should she not come at once 
 to the point?
 
 1 82 Cab No. 44 
 
 "I hope you will pardon me for intruding 
 upon you," she began, "but I am very anxious 
 about a mutual friend who brought letters to 
 us from England. We fear he has met with 
 some accident, as we have heard or seen noth- 
 ing of him for a week. I refer to Mr. Hardy 
 Maxwell." 
 
 Again McBride was very sorry, but he had 
 never heard of the gentleman. At the same 
 moment, he was conscious that the door lead- 
 ing to the sanctum, which was directly behind 
 Miss Ohlstrom, was opened about an inch. Mr. 
 Hartley was evidently listening. 
 
 Hartley was more than listening. He was 
 getting terribly nervous, and running over in his 
 mind a thousand schemes to put a stop to the 
 conversation in the other room before it got too 
 far. He perceived a return of the trap that had 
 been set for him over the telephone. He 
 thought the female detective had arrived. 
 
 "Have you not heard his name mentioned?" 
 she said, still thinking McBride might be Mr. 
 Hartley's son. 
 
 "Never. I am sure none of my family ever 
 heard of such a person." He was quoting what 
 Mr. Hartley had said the day before. 
 
 "Why, you astonish me," she almost gasped. 
 "I mean the friend of Mr. Maynard."
 
 Cab No. 44 183 
 
 "I never heard of Mr. Maynard," McBride 
 answered quietly, although he felt that he was 
 putting his foot into it somehow. 
 
 The door of the sanctum opened fully a foot, 
 and without looking in that direction, McBride 
 was conscious that Hartley was shaking his fist 
 at him, and was greatly excited about something. 
 A casual glance, a moment later, was instantly 
 answered by Hartley's making motions with 
 both hands which clearly indicated that he 
 wished his confidential clerk to throw the young 
 lady out. 
 
 Helen stood up presently, inserting both her 
 hands in her muff. She looked McBride straight 
 in the face as he rose with her. The pretty 
 mouth was now a thin red line. 
 
 "You will pardon me, sir, but I do not think 
 you are Mr. Hartley, or you would know both 
 those gentlemen well." The inner door of the 
 sanctum shut quickly as she stood up. McBride 
 was strongly tempted to walk over and shut the 
 sound door as well; but he feared it would at- 
 tract Miss Ohlstrom's attention to the inner 
 room. 
 
 "Why, really, you see," he stammered, "I 
 know so many people, it is just possible that I 
 do not recognize the names for the moment. 
 Perhaps I have not seen the gentlemen you
 
 184 Cab No. 44 
 
 mention for some time. Perhaps I am in the 
 habit of calling them by their first names." 
 
 He did not know exactly what he was say- 
 ing. He wished only that Mr. Hartley was in 
 Guinea. Then he would come right out with 
 the truth and have done with this farce. Here 
 was a beautiful girl, standing up and talking 
 to him so frankly, and he was lying to her like 
 a horse-thief. 
 
 "I really do not understand matters," she 
 said, "unless it is that you are only Mr. Hart- 
 ley's son." 
 
 "Of course I am," he said, instantly grasping 
 at the straw. "You surely didn't imagine I was 
 the president?" 
 
 The sweetness of the smile she gave him as 
 she sat down again was worth a thousand lies. 
 He could not help acknowledging to himself 
 that he had never seen such a beauty. She was 
 just what his fancy had always pictured the per- 
 fect girl to be, only more so. He was so in- 
 tent on looking at her that he entirely forgot 
 what her errand was. 
 
 Had Hartley known what was passing 
 through the mind of his confidential clerk, he 
 would probably have reasoned that Miss Right 
 had arrived; but just at that moment Hartley 
 had troubles of his own, and was clenching his
 
 Cab No. 44 185 
 
 fists and muttering curses to himself, as he 
 realized that the interview in the other room 
 was to be continued. If that girl did not go, 
 he would have a stroke of apoplexy. 
 
 "Well, Mr. Hartley," Helen began, not 
 knowing that the door behind her was slowly 
 opening again, "Mr. Maxwell and Mr. May- 
 nard are friends of your father's, and I wish 
 very much that you would ask your father if he 
 knows anything of Mr. Maxwell's present 
 whereabouts, because we are very anxious about 
 him." 
 
 "Maxwell !" exclaimed Mr. Hartley to him- 
 self, in the other room. "Another name for that 
 fellow, I suppose. And this must be the girl 
 that Doremus is after, and Fletcher has not writ- 
 ten to her yet, eh? On my word!" pulling the 
 door open a little wider, and forgetting his ex- 
 citement for the moment as he took a good look 
 at the figure in the chair "my word, but she's 
 a stunner! Johnson's right about that!" 
 
 McBride came to himself, as he realized that 
 the girl was waiting for an answer to her ques- 
 tion. 
 
 "Certainly! I shall tell him all about it. I 
 mean, I shall ask Mr. Hartley my father, I 
 mean, about the matter when I see him. And,
 
 Cab No. 44 
 
 and where shall I send you word?" This was 
 said with a most engaging smile. 
 
 "Is there no way you can telephone and ask 
 him?" 
 
 Helen did not like the idea of giving her ad- 
 dress. She had hesitated about giving her right 
 name; but as Mr. Hartley, Junior, had not 
 recognized it, it did not matter. 
 
 "I am afraid I could not reach him by tele- 
 phone," McBride answered very positively. He 
 was determined not to lose this opportunity of 
 getting her address. The bare possibility of 
 never seeing her again already alarmed him. 
 "Are you quite sure that he knows the address?" 
 he asked. 
 
 "Oh, I think so. You see, I telephoned to 
 the club and asked about Mr. Maxwell, and 
 was very much astonished to find they did not 
 know any such person. I suppose I must have 
 made a mistake in the name of the club, or 
 something. But I know your father will be 
 able to tell you something, because they were all 
 together at dinner at Green's several times 
 lately. They had some funny sort of a bet 
 about robbing a bank or something that Mr. 
 Maxwell seemed to be very much interested in. 
 Interested in the bet, I mean; not the bank,"
 
 Cab No. 44 187 
 
 she added hastily, seeing the expression of sur- 
 prise on the young man's face. 
 
 Hartley was in a state of collapse. He saw 
 that if this girl was allowed to go on, she would 
 tell McBride the whole story, and then every- 
 body would know it, and he might as well sur- 
 render to the police at once. He opened the 
 door wide enough to beckon frantically to his 
 clerk; but McBride found it convenient at that 
 moment to concentrate his gaze upon the face of 
 his fair visitor, who was smiling very sweetly 
 just then, and looking her best. 
 
 "Yes, I think it was Mr. Douglas and Mr. 
 Hartley who made the bet," Helen went on. 
 
 "Oh, it was some dreadful amount that Mr. 
 
 Maxwell mentioned. But I suppose your father 
 has told you the joke already?" 
 
 "I heard a part of it only," said McBride 
 
 with a smile, adding to himself: "What a liar 
 
 I am all at once!" 
 
 Before either of them could say another word, 
 
 Hartley had determined to cross the Rubicon. 
 
 He must stop this tete-a-tete or burst a blood 
 
 vessel. He opened the door of the sanctum 
 
 with a cough, and conscious that he was very 
 
 red in the face, strode into the room with some 
 
 papers in his hand. 
 
 Without apparently noticing Miss Ohlstrom's
 
 1 88 Cab No. 44 
 
 presence, he approached McBride, who instinct- 
 ively rose to offer his chair. 
 
 "Your father left these papers for you, Mr. 
 Hartley," he said, abruptly. "I think they need 
 your attention before you go to lunch," pulling 
 out his watch and glancing at it. Then, turn- 
 ing to the young woman, whose appearance 
 seemed to make a marked improvement in his 
 manner, as soon as he got a good look at her 
 face, he said quite politely: "I trust you will 
 pardon this intrusion, but Mr. Hartley's in- 
 structions were to give these papers to his son 
 the moment they were ready." 
 
 As she rose from her chair, McBride stepped 
 back, but the older man stood there transfixed. 
 "On my word," he was saying to himself, "but 
 Johnson's right; she is a stunner." 
 
 She was half way out of the door before 
 McBride recovered himself and rushed for- 
 ward to hold it open for her. Then he fol- 
 lowed her into the outer office, and opened that 
 door for her. From there he followed her into 
 the corridor, and saw her safely into the 
 elevator. Then he accompanied her downstairs 
 in the elevator, without his hat, and all the way 
 he was chattering, he did not know what about. 
 He had but one idea in his head: to get per-
 
 Cab No. 44 189 
 
 mission to call on her, and to take her what 
 news he could about Mr. Maxwell. 
 
 Helen could not disguise the fact that she 
 was pleased at McBride's marked attention. 
 She was aware that she had made a very de- 
 cided impression. And then he was so nice 
 about it when he insisted on bringing the 
 coveted information to her personally, if she 
 would be good enough to allow him to do so. 
 There might be so much more to say than it 
 would be convenient to write, etc. So finally 
 she gave him her address, and smiled her 
 sweetest smile as he held the outer door open 
 for her to pass into the street. 
 
 When the young man and Hartley were face 
 to face again a minute later, they looked at each 
 other in silence for a second. Hartley expected 
 that he would have to make some unpleasant 
 explanations, or tell some more lies. McBride 
 was the first to speak. 
 
 "Isn't that a peach? By the great horn 
 spoon!" he cried, slapping his leg with his right 
 hand and smiling broadly. His eyes snapped 
 with pleasure as he saw that Hartley evidently 
 agreed. 
 
 "She's a stunner!" assented the older man. 
 "What did you say her name was?" He picked 
 up her card from the desk. "Miss Ohlstrom,
 
 190 Cab No. 44 
 
 eh ?" Hartley threw the card down again, and 
 waited for his confidential man to ask for in- 
 formation about Maxwell. Strange to say, 
 McBride seemed to have entirely forgotten 
 that part of the conversation with his visitor. 
 He could do nothing but talk about the girl. 
 It soon became evident to Hartley that James 
 was badly smitten. In order to get away him- 
 self, he suggested to McBride that it was time 
 for him to go to his luncheon. 
 
 McBride took his hat and coat and went out, 
 saying he would return in an hour. A janitor 
 who was mopping up one end of the corridor 
 looked up in astonishment at seeing the young 
 man doing a two-step with great energy all by 
 himself, humming the Washington Post March 
 and holding the tails of his overcoat in his finger 
 tips the while. 
 
 Going down in the elevator, McBride took 
 her card out of his pocket and jotted down her 
 address upon it. A friend met him on the 
 street, and asked him to go to lunch with him. 
 He declined rather abruptly. He wanted to be 
 alone with his thoughts of Miss Ohlstrom. It 
 was not until he was seated at a table that the 
 smile suddenly left his face. How about hav- 
 ing given her a false name? He felt a sudden 
 sense of dizziness as he put his hand to his head
 
 Cab No. 44 191 
 
 and bit his lip. "I told that girl more lies in 
 half an hour than I have told since last Christ- 
 mas," he said to himself. "That was a bad 
 beginning, giving her a wrong name." 
 
 All the afternoon he could think of nothing 
 but how to straighten that difficulty out. He 
 felt ashamed of himself; and he realized that 
 it would place him in a very bad light with her. 
 Moreover, Miss Ohlstrom probably would be 
 chagrined to find that he was nothing but a 
 clerk. "Dash it all!" he said to himself. "Why 
 didn't I call in Hartley at once, instead of 
 getting myself into this mess? The finest girl 
 I ever met in my life, and this is the way I 
 start out with her! Dash it!" 
 
 It was nearly four o'clock when Hartley took 
 his hat and gloves, and announced that he was 
 going home. He observed that McBride had 
 been very much preoccupied all the afternoon, 
 and had quite lost his gay spirits of the morn- 
 ing. As Hartley pulled on his glove, he stopped 
 a moment, and looked at his clerk, as if expect- 
 ing some question. 
 
 "Anything more to-day, James?" 
 
 "Nothing, sir. Thank you." 
 
 As Hartley was about to close the door be- 
 hind him, he said quietly: "By the way, James, 
 I don't know any such person as Mr. Maxwell.
 
 192 Cab No. 44 
 
 Never heard the name even. That thing's all 
 a mistake. Must be some other Hartley she's 
 looking for. Good-day." 
 
 When he got out into the corridor he smiled. 
 "I did not say I didn't know Maynard, but he 
 will think I meant I didn't know either of 
 them," he assured himself. "Now, if that girl 
 gets confidential with Doremus and tells him 
 that she called on me, and describes my son to 
 him, all that lying will be wasted. But I am 
 following advice of counsel. I told the truth 
 about one thing anyway. I don't know any such 
 name as Maxwell."
 
 CHAPTER XXII 
 
 AFTER thinking the matter over care- 
 fully McBride concluded that he 
 would be more likely to find Miss 
 Ohlstrom at home on Sunday afternoon than 
 at any other time. It was hard to wait so 
 long, but the interval was devoted to rosy 
 dreams of another chat with her, and of the 
 cementing of an acquaintance that was going 
 to be something more than an acquaintance 
 some day, or his reading of his own horoscope 
 was sadly at fault. He had nothing to tell her 
 about Maxwell ; but what did that matter ? He 
 let his imagination run absurdly on, building 
 castles. They would have a nice chat, and he 
 would get permission to call again, on some pre- 
 tense or other. He would find out who her 
 friends were and be formally introduced, and 
 then he would take her to the theater, and to 
 drive; he would see her almost every day. 
 Hartley was quite right about one thing: 
 McBride would be an ardent lover when he 
 met Miss Right. 
 
 Sunday afternoon came, and after making a 
 very careful toilet, and trying to look his best, 
 193
 
 194 Cab No. 44 
 
 although he was really very nervous, McBride 
 went to the address which Helen had given 
 him, and rang the bell. He had prepared a 
 card on which he had written, "Mr. George 
 Hartley, Jr.," and which he handed to the maid 
 who opened the door. He thought it better to 
 keep that name until he explained matters per- 
 sonally. Miss Ohlstrom would not know who 
 it was if he sent up his right name. 
 
 Miss Ohlstrom would be down in a minute. 
 In a minute ! How his heart beat ! In a minute 
 he was to be face to face with her again. Then 
 he would refresh his memory with a look at 
 her face; he would study the features that he 
 had forgotten. The general impression was 
 there, but the details were wanting. 
 
 There was no mistaking that figure as she 
 swept into the room. She appeared glad to 
 see him ; but she did not extend her hand. She 
 did not even ask him to be seated. She pulled 
 up the shade a little, and made some remark 
 about not wanting a light yet. That was all. 
 He felt chilled, somehow, at this reception. 
 
 Helen was looking her best. The worry of 
 the last week had been stopped by the pros- 
 pect of hearing something definite about Max- 
 well, and her face looked brighter for it. 
 McBride's glance of admiration was unmistak-
 
 Cab No. 44 195 
 
 able as he stood there, hat 'in hand, simply 
 devouring her with his eyes; but he was evi- 
 dently nervous and ill at ease. He was sud- 
 denly recalled to himself by seeing her glance 
 at the card he had sent up, which she now held 
 in her hand. 
 
 "Miss Ohlstrom, I I want to make a con- 
 fession to you, Miss Ohlstrom. Dash it all! 
 I'm not Mr. Hartley at all. My name is James 
 McBride," he blurted out. 
 
 "Indeed!" she answered very quietly, lifting 
 her eyebrows a trifle, perhaps, but without be- 
 traying the expected surprise. 
 
 "Yes. I'm Mr. Hartley's confidential man 
 in the office, you know," he stammered. 
 
 "My father told me last night that Mr. 
 Hartley had no grown-up children." Her voice 
 was very calm and business-like. 
 
 "That was Mr. Hartley that came into the 
 room while you were there, you know. You 
 see, it was this way " 
 
 "But he addressed you as Mr. Hartley," she 
 interrupted, looking very grave. "I really don't 
 understand such things; but I suppose they are 
 considered necessary in some offices." 
 
 "Well, you see, Miss Ohlstrom, Mr. Hart- 
 ley is bothered to death with all sorts of people, 
 this time of year, and they distract his atten-
 
 196 Cab No. 44 
 
 tion from important business. So he asked me 
 to represent him. And then you came in, 
 and " 
 
 "I really don't care to hear your explana- 
 tions, or your reasons for conducting your busi- 
 ness in your own way," she said quickly. "If 
 you will be good enough to give me any infor- 
 mation you have with regard to Mr. Maxwell, 
 I shall be grateful to you. It would be ex- 
 tremely awkward for me to explain your pres- 
 ence here should my parents return, Mr. 
 
 Let me see; what is your name now?" 
 
 What is your name now? Great heavens! 
 And this was the Sunday afternoon visit that 
 he had lived on the hopes of for the last forty- 
 eight hours! He could have wept for very 
 humiliation. 
 
 "Dash it all, Miss Ohlstrom, it's not my 
 fault," he cried. "I have to obey orders. I 
 came up here to set myself straight with you, 
 and to beg your pardon for having deceived 
 you. My name is James McBride. I " 
 
 "Really, Mr. McBride," Helen interrupted, 
 "I fail to see any necessity for your setting your- 
 self straight, as you call it. It is no concern of 
 mine what name you choose to assume. If you 
 will be good enough to give me the information 
 which I presume it was the object of your visit
 
 Cab No. 44 197 
 
 to bring, I will trouble you to forget that we 
 ever met, and to leave the house at once." 
 
 "Why, really, Miss Ohlstrom, this is unjust, 
 as well as unkind. It is not my fault that I 
 had to tell you I was Mr. Hartley." The poor 
 fellow was red with mortification. 
 
 "Pardon me, Mr. McBride. I do not wish 
 to hear any excuses. Have you Mr. Maxwell's 
 present address, or any news of him?" 
 
 Something in her manner and tone made his 
 blood boil. Drawing himself up to his full 
 height, his eyes flashing with sudden anger, he 
 blurted out: 
 
 "Mr. Hartley says he never heard of any 
 such persons as Maynard or Maxwell. He says 
 you are mistaken in calling upon him. It must 
 be some other Mr. Hartley you are thinking 
 about." 
 
 Even as he spoke, the young man felt him- 
 self becoming more angry every moment. He 
 could not trust himself further, so he bowed 
 stiffly and backed toward the door, with a very 
 curt, "I wish you good-afternoon." The tones 
 of his voice were very different from those that 
 went over the telephone wire a few days before. 
 
 "One moment, please," she gasped, coming 
 toward him with both hands outstretched. He 
 stood therej close to the door, motionless, his
 
 198 Cab No. 44 
 
 eyes still blazing with wounded pride. She 
 passed one hand over her forehead, half dazed. 
 This tissue of falsehoods seemed to make her 
 dizzy. Not the right Mr. Hartley! Never 
 heard of Maynard or Maxwell! It was in- 
 credible. What did it all mean? 
 
 "One moment, please," she repeated. "You 
 must be mistaken. Mr. George Hartley is the 
 president of the Hardware Trust, is he not?" 
 
 "Yes," he almost snapped. 
 
 "And a friend of Mr. Douglas?" 
 
 "Not at all. They are very far from friends, 
 for business reasons. But you will excuse me. 
 I must be going. Your parents might return." 
 He said it almost with a sneer, making another 
 step backward. 
 
 "Just one moment, please," she pleaded, put- 
 ting out her hand as if to hold him. She was 
 terrified to think that her last chance to learn 
 anything of her lover was escaping her. Some- 
 thing in her action, something in her look, 
 touched the man for the moment. What a 
 beauty she was, after all, he thought. What 
 is there in a pretty girl, just on the verge of 
 tears, that will make a man act like a fool? 
 On the impulse of the moment he forgot his 
 wounded pride, and grasped the outstretched 
 hand and held it; held it firmly, in spite of her
 
 Cab No. 44 199 
 
 effort to withdraw it. He took a step toward 
 her, and looked her straight in the eyes. 
 
 "Now listen, Miss Ohlstrom. I came up 
 here to set myself straight with you, and to 
 apologize for having deceived you. Business 
 may be business; but, dash it all! I felt like a 
 beastly cad about lying to you that way, and 
 then having to come here and send you up a 
 false name. I thought you would forgive me, 
 and that then I might be of some assistance to 
 you. I could not help feeling that you were 
 the sort of girl that one had to be sincere with, 
 even before I saw you; when I first heard the 
 sound of your voice." She got her hand free, 
 but he went on: "I hated to think that if you 
 should ever meet me, or see me, and find out 
 that I was not Mr. Hartley, that you would 
 look upon me as a lying cad. Whether I ever 
 see you again or not, I want your good 
 opinion." 
 
 After a moment of silence he continued, in 
 a tone of less assurance: 
 
 "I cannot do any more than acknowledge that 
 I did wrong. Now won't you forgive me?" 
 
 Helen seemed in doubt what to say, but she 
 was evidently softening. On the inspiration of 
 the moment McBride said softly: 
 
 "If we were friends, we could get to the bot-
 
 2OO Cab No. 44 
 
 torn of these lies about Mr. Maxwell. If he 
 is anywhere on earth, I will find him for you. 
 There is my hand on it." 
 
 It was the last speech that told. He saw 
 that. The earnestness of his manner the 
 straightforward honest look in his face over- 
 came her hesitation. She put out her hand with 
 a smile, but the grasp that he gave it made her 
 flinch. 
 
 Still, she did not feel quite at ease. She was 
 sorry he had made that avowal about liking her. 
 And then she kept thinking of the possible re- 
 turn of her parents. What would they say if 
 they found her talking to this unknown man? 
 The more quickly she could get rid of him the 
 better, she thought, but she would like to clear 
 up this mystery about Mr. Hartley. 
 
 "I am quite sure that I made no mistake 
 about the Mr. Hartley that knew him," she be- 
 gan. "There is no other George Hartley that 
 is president of the Hardware Trust, I sup- 
 pose?" McBride shook his head very posi- 
 tively. "Then he knows both Mr. Maxwell 
 and Mr. Maynard perfectly. He dined with 
 them several times lately. Of that I am posi- 
 tive." 
 
 "There must be some mistake." 
 
 "I cannot see how it is possible. Mr. Max-
 
 Cab No. 44 201 
 
 well told me the whole story. Mr. Hartley 
 and Mr. Douglas were at the dinner " 
 
 "But Mr. Douglas and Mr. Hartley are not 
 friendly. Mr. Douglas caught Mr. Hartley in 
 some stock transaction last year, and they have 
 not spoken since." 
 
 "There! Now I know I am right; because 
 Mr. Maxwell told me they had had some sort 
 of unpleasant business relations, but it was not 
 known to their host until they arrived. It was 
 their nagging at each other after the dinner that 
 led to the bet, you know." 
 
 "What was the bet about? Do you know?" 
 
 "I did not understand it exactly. That is, 
 I don't remember the details. But some one 
 was to rob a bank or something, and then hide. 
 Then Mr. Hartley and Mr. Douglas had a bet 
 of some tremendous amount that the police 
 could not find the thief." 
 
 "But did they make the bet, or was it all 
 talk?" 
 
 "I think they made the bet. It was at Dr. 
 Ramie's dinner party, you know." 
 
 "Dr. Ramie !" he exclaimed. "Do you know 
 if the bet was ten thousand dollars?" 
 
 "Yes, I think it was." 
 
 "Then you are right about Mr. Hartley. I 
 made out a check for Dr. Ramie for ten thou-
 
 202 Cab No. 44 
 
 sand dollars last Monday week. I suppose he 
 was the stakeholder." 
 
 "But Mr. Maxwell and Mr. Maynard were 
 both at the dinner. What is Mr. Hartley's 
 object in saying he does not know either of 
 them?" she asked. "They dined together again 
 after that. Why does he deny the acquaintance? 
 Is it because I am the person that wants the 
 information, I wonder? I suppose he heard my 
 name that day at the office." 
 
 "Why should the information be concealed 
 'from you particularly?" 
 
 Helen blushed and looked confused. She 
 did not like to give form to the thought that 
 was passing through her mind. If Hardy Max- 
 well were unfaithful; if it were his intention 
 never to see her again, perhaps he had asked 
 
 his friends But no! She could not thinlc 
 
 such a thing of him. She looked up at McBride, 
 who was evidently awaiting an answer to his 
 last question. 
 
 "You see," she faltered, looking down and 
 turning her face away slightly, "I think I have 
 a right to know what has happened to Mr. Max- 
 well, because because he and I " 
 
 She stopped and blushed slightly, as if un- 
 willing to finish the sentence. It was quite un- 
 necessary. He divined what she was loath to
 
 Cab No. 44 203 
 
 say. She was engaged, and all those rosy 
 dreams of his were vain. 
 
 She read his thoughts, and the uneasiness 
 of a few minutes before returned. "If I was 
 not singled out," she demanded, "why does Mr. 
 Hartley deny his acquaintance with Mr. Max- 
 well?" 
 
 "Perhaps Mr. Maxwell is not a desirable 
 person to know." 
 
 She drew herself up like a flash. "I wish 
 you to understand, sir, that Mr. Maxwell came 
 here with the best of introductions, from my 
 uncle, and that I shall not permit you to asperse 
 his character." 
 
 "I beg your pardon," he said humbly, see- 
 ing his mistake. "You see you know. I can- 
 not think of any other reason. Please don't 
 get angry with me. Let me talk the matter over 
 with Mr. Hartley. I will find out the truth 
 about the matter to-morrow. Then won't you 
 let me call and tell you what I learn?" 
 
 "I should much prefer that you would write. 
 I do not like the idea of your coming here when 
 you are not an acquaintance." 
 
 He did not seem to relish the tone in which 
 this was said. It conveyed no wish that he were 
 an acquaintance. Both stood for a moment or 
 two looking at nothing; both thinking of the
 
 2O4 Cab No. 44 
 
 same thing some excuse for another meeting. 
 He to continue the acquaintance, she to gain 
 further information about her absent lover. 
 
 "I have it!" he exclaimed, at last. "Won't 
 you let me send you tickets for ladies' day at 
 the Athletic Club? I am one of the reception 
 committee, you know. It is on Tuesday after- 
 noon. There might be some mutual friend 
 there to introduce us." 
 
 "I do not like the idea of making such an 
 appointment with a stranger," she said hesi- 
 tatingly, "but I am really very curious to hear 
 Mr. Hartley's explanation." 
 
 "I will send the tickets to-night. The mo- 
 ment I get home," he urged hastily. "Please 
 try to come. I will have news for you. We 
 will find him. You know I have promised you 
 that," and without trusting himself to say any- 
 thing further, he took his leave.
 
 MR. HARTLEY called up Dr. Ramie 
 next day and asked him to dine at 
 Green's that evening. "It's about 
 as convenient a place as any," Hartley said. 
 "I'm going to bring Groscup with me. Doug- 
 las' lawyer, you know. We want to talk over 
 things with you. I'm getting sick of this busi- 
 ness about that bet. It's getting on my nerves." 
 
 "Why, what's the matter now? I thought 
 the whole thing had blown over nicely." 
 
 "I don't want to talk over the telephone. 
 But I got another shock to-day, that shows me 
 the whole town is getting on to it. The only 
 ones that are asleep on the job are the police. 
 Come to-night at eight, and I'll tell you all 
 about it." 
 
 That things were getting on Hartley's nerves 
 was very evident from his conduct that evening. 
 Nothing in the place or on the bill of fare suited 
 him, and he seemed inclined to fly into a rage 
 about the merest trifles. Seeing there was no 
 mustard on the table, he called to a waiter who 
 was leisurely folding napkins at the other end 
 205
 
 206 Cab No. 44 
 
 of the room: "Bring me some mustard here, 
 will you?" 
 
 The waiter drew himself up and turned his 
 impassive face in their direction. "Ze waiter, 
 he come quick," was all he said. 
 
 "I don't want a waiter, I want mustard. 
 There it is on the table beside you." He rose 
 as if to get it himself, when the waiter entered 
 with a tray. Mr. Hartley turned on him. 
 "What's the matter with this restaurant 
 lately? Your waiters all dummies?" The waiter 
 was very sorry. He tried to pacify Mr. Hart- 
 ley. That tall fellow was only an omnibus, he 
 said, and was not allowed to wait on the table. 
 
 Then Mr. Hartley knocked over his wine 
 glass, which he regarded as a bad omen, and 
 tried to blame the waiter for it. The poor 
 waiter assured him that it was not unlucky. 
 "Some gentlemen, they break champagne glasses 
 for luck," he said. All these things seemed to 
 add to Mr. Hartley's bad humor, until finally 
 the doctor said he would have to prescribe for 
 him. 
 
 "What you want, Hartley, is the rest cure. 
 You had better go to Florida for a week or 
 two." 
 
 Mr. Groscup objected. He thought that the 
 matters Mr. Hartley had come to talk over re-
 
 Cab No. 44 207 
 
 quired him to keep his eye on the situation at 
 home, for a few days at least. 
 
 After a good cigar and several glasses of 
 wine, Hartley became a little more mellow, and 
 prepared to give the doctor a history of his 
 troubles, Groscup being an attentive listener. 
 
 "This business of Maxwell's is getting too 
 much for me," he began. 
 
 "Maxwell?" interrupted the doctor, raising 
 his eyebrows. "To whom do you refer?" 
 
 "I didn't mean Maxwell. I'm getting so 
 ratty I forget names." After a moment's drum- 
 ming on the table, as if to recollect himself, he 
 went on: "Fletcher, I mean, of course. This 
 business of Fletcher's is getting to be a night- 
 mare." 
 
 "Why, I thought it was almost forgotten; 
 by the outside public, that is." 
 
 "By the public, perhaps; but not by other 
 people. That girl that Doremus was going to 
 
 watch " Hartley caught himself this time, 
 
 and took a big swallow of wine. Then he 
 struck a match, although his cigar had not gone 
 out; and having gained time enough to collect 
 his thoughts, he started afresh. 
 
 "You know this Maxwell hang it all! I 
 mean Fletcher had a girl. Stunner, upon my 
 word ! Good taste in girls, he had. Well, this
 
 208 Cab No. 44 
 
 girl was getting anxious about him, not hear- 
 ing from him for a week; so down she comes 
 to my office, if you please, to inquire. Why 
 she couldn't call you or Douglas, or some one 
 else, I don't know; but of course I am the vic- 
 tim. I wasn't in at the time, so she asked 
 James, my secretary, you know, what he knew 
 about Maxwell I mean Fletcher." The doc- 
 tor smiled every time Hartley made this slip. 
 "So James promised to get the information 
 for me. Following Mr. Groscup's advice, I 
 said I had never heard the name even, and I 
 told James not to see her again if she called. 
 This morning it appears, she laid for him in 
 the corridor, so as to catch him before he got 
 into the office, and wanted to know whether he 
 had that address for her or not. James says 
 he told her I didn't know any such people as 
 Maynard or Maxwell, and she went into tan- 
 trums at once and told him the whole story 
 about the dinner, and the bet, and gave him all 
 our names and everything, pat. Of course I had 
 a scene with James. I lied about it as long as 
 I could; but he had me dead on the check I 
 sent you, doctor. I was so afraid of making a 
 slip that I thought it best to put him off with a 
 promise to explain things to-morrow, so that I 
 could sec you and get some advice from Gros-
 
 Cab No. 44 209 
 
 cup in the meantime. I want to know what to 
 do. I have been very careful not to give my- 
 self away so far, you know." 
 
 Groscup and the doctor looked at each other 
 and laughed. Hartley seemed annoyed. 
 "What's wrong now?" he queried. 
 
 "Well," remarked the lawyer dryly, "you 
 have called Fletcher 'Maxwell' about six times 
 this evening, and it is very evident that the name 
 'Maxwell' is more prominently in your mind 
 than Fletcher. As I told you the other day, 
 Hartley, nothing is so difficult to conceal as 
 guilty knowledge of facts when one is obliged 
 to talk about them. Would you mind telling 
 us where you got the name Maxwell?" 
 
 "That's the name he gave the girl." 
 
 "And this Doremus you mentioned a while 
 ago. 1 think you said he was going to watch 
 her. Who is he?" 
 
 Mr. Hartley's wits were not ready for that ex- 
 planation immediately. His confusion was very 
 evident; but he made an effort. "Why, the girl 
 told James that she was being shadowed, and 
 that a man named Doremus was trying to get 
 acquainted with her." 
 
 "I do not want to cross-examine you now, 
 Mr. Hartley," remarked the lawyer quietly, "but 
 I think it would be better for you to be perfectly
 
 2io Cab No. 44 
 
 frank with us. You may remember that I told 
 you hesitation in giving an answer is a sure sign 
 that something is being held back, or that the 
 answer has been framed to avoid the truth. I 
 should like to know where to find this man 
 Doremus, and also to have the name and ad- 
 dress of the girl. If this matter comes into 
 court, we should know all the facts." 
 
 "Oh, hang Doremus and the girl"; pouring 
 out another glass of wine; "I'm sick of the 
 whole business. I want to know if there is not 
 some way to clear the whole thing up. Why 
 can't we make a clean breast of it, and tell the 
 police all we know and have that fellow caught 
 and tried? We haven't done anything wrong. 
 I am sick of all this worry." 
 
 "No one seems to be worrying about it but 
 yourself, Mr. Hartley," remarked the doctor. 
 "I have no bother. Douglas is enjoying him- 
 self." 
 
 "Yes," put in Groscup; "I was thinking of 
 cabling to Douglas to come home as soon as 
 he pleased. I thought the whole thing had 
 blown over; but this puts a new aspect on the 
 case. The first thing we know, that girl will 
 be going to the police and asking them to find 
 'Maxwell,' as she calls him. That is, if she is
 
 Cab No. 44 '211 
 
 sufficiently interested in him. Where did he 
 pick her up, I wonder?" 
 
 "Brought letters to her family from the old 
 country, James says. But they're forgeries, of 
 course. That's one of the dodges of that Ard- 
 more gang, you know. They always get good 
 introductions to some woman to use as a tool 
 to circulate their counterfeits." 
 
 "And pray what has the Ardmore gang to 
 do with this case?" demanded the lawyer, evi- 
 dently astonished at the connection of ideas. 
 
 "Oh, nothing!" said Hartley quickly, taking 
 another swallow of wine. "I just happened to 
 think it was probably a common dodge among 
 criminals, and having heard the Ardmore gang 
 used it, probably Maxwell used it." 
 
 "But Maxwell is not a criminal, if he is 
 Fletcher." 
 
 "No, that's so. But of course he reads the 
 papers ; and he probably read that the Ardmore 
 gang used that trick to get acquainted with nice 
 girls." 
 
 "That would mean that he forged letters; 
 and it would also prove him to be the origina- 
 tor, not the imitator; because he must have 
 been acquainted with her long before the Ard- 
 more gang got into the papers. I don't quite 
 see the connection"; and the lawyer looked at
 
 212 Cab No. 44 
 
 the doctor, who was simply smiling to himself 
 and apparently enjoying the confusion into 
 which Hartley was plunged. 
 
 "Well," exclaimed Hartley suddenly, "let's 
 cut that all out! We're wasting time. What 
 I want to know is, why we can't go to the police 
 with the whole story and sleep nights." 
 
 Groscup smiled. "The first step they would 
 take would be to put the whole lot of you in 
 jail, and to institute extradition proceedings for 
 my client, Mr. Douglas. You gentlemen would 
 be obliged to confess that you deliberately insti- 
 gated Fletcher to rob Maynard; hired him, in 
 fact, as you promised to pay him for the job. 
 While I have my own theory of the truth of 
 the case, the police theory would probably be 
 that there were some hitch in carrying out the 
 original plan of the robbery, and that Fletcher 
 was determined to have the money, and did not 
 stop at violence. After you had all been put 
 through the third degree to find out what you 
 knew about Fletcher's antecedents, this girl 
 you speak of would be arrested, and you would 
 probably lie in jail until her letters of introduc- 
 tion were traced. I am very much afraid, 
 Mr. Hartley, if what you tell us is true, that the 
 police will be informed quickly enough without 
 your hurrying matters. It seems to me that the
 
 Cab No. 44 213 
 
 first step should be to see that young lady and 
 muzzle her, regardless of expense. Have you 
 any idea of her class? Would money be an 
 object?" 
 
 Mr. Hartley was too dazed by the lawyer's 
 portrayal of the possible consequences of recent 
 events to answer. The doctor repeated the 
 question. 
 
 "The girl! Oh, she's a stunner 1 James is 
 quite gone on her. Miss Ohlstrom is the name 
 she gave; probably false. Have no idea where 
 she lives, though. Johnson knows all about 
 that." 
 
 "And pray who is Johnson?" 
 
 Hartley had to take a long pull at the wine 
 before he could answer this question. "Well, 
 to tell you the truth, boys of course this is 
 sub rosa? because I'm a married man, you 
 know but I took quite a fancy to the young 
 lady myself. Stunning figure, you know, and all 
 that. So I just had one of the men in the office, 
 Johnson, follow her home to see where she lived 
 and find out what she was" ; and he winked at 
 them knowingly. 
 
 "When was this?" 
 
 "The first time she came to the office." 
 
 "And what did Johnson discover?" 
 
 "He has the name and address all right, I
 
 214 Cab No. 44 
 
 believe. Fact is, I didn't ask him about it par- 
 ticularly, not being in the humor for that sort 
 of adventure just at present." 
 
 "Would you mind sending Johnson round to 
 my office the first thing in the morning?" 
 
 "Certainly," was the prompt response, Hart- 
 ley making up his mind that he could telephone 
 that Johnson had not come down yet, or was 
 sick, or had resigned, or something. He would 
 have some excuse before the morning. 
 
 The waiter put his head in the door to say 
 that Mr. Hartley's carriage was waiting. 
 
 "Then there's nothing for it but to keep 
 mum," he remarked, standing up as if to go. 
 
 "And to keep other people mum, which is 
 much more important now. It seems to me that 
 everything depends on this Miss Ohlstrom. 
 Women are awful tattlers." 
 
 "Looks that way to me," remarked the doc- 
 tor, rather ambiguously. 
 
 "Well, I'm off. Good-night," and Hartley 
 moved toward the door. "I suppose the best 
 thing I can tell James to-morrow is, that I met 
 Maxwell so seldom that I had forgotten the 
 name, and that I don't know anything about 
 him." 
 
 "As you never met Maxwell as Maxwell, 
 why not say you never heard of him, and stick
 
 Cab No. 44 215 
 
 to it? But don't forget Johnson the first thing 
 in the morning, and be sure he has that address 
 with him," were Groscup's parting words. 
 
 After the sound of the retreating steps on 
 the stairs had ceased, the lawyer closed the door. 
 The two men looked at each other and laughed. 
 
 "Awful liar," was the lawyer's comment. 
 "But he knows more than he tells. Nasty com- 
 plication, that girl. She is probably stuck on 
 Fletcher, and women are awfully hard to man- 
 age when they think any one is trying to keep 
 them from their lovers. She will have the 
 whole detective squad about our ears in twenty- 
 four hours if we don't head her off. All that is 
 keeping her back now is waiting for informa- 
 tion from Mr. Hartley's clerk." 
 
 "Looks that way," said the doctor, knocking 
 the ashes from his cigar. He did not seem par- 
 ticularly worried about the matter. "None of 
 my funeral, though, I suppose," he continued, 
 "unless the stakeholder is an accessory before 
 the fact, as you call it." 
 
 "You certainly have a guilty knowledge of 
 the facts." 
 
 "I also have a knowledge of the fact that 
 Fletcher is not suspected of anything yet. I 
 listened to all that was said here to-night, and 
 I infer that his friend Miss Ohlstrom cannot
 
 216 Cab No. 44 
 
 have been aware that it was he that was to com- 
 mit the robbery, or she would also know that 
 he was to hide himself. That is clear, is it 
 not?" 
 
 "Now you are talking, doctor. You are a 
 charming contrast to Hartley, who evidently 
 feels guilty about something that we do not 
 understand. He is scared to death." 
 
 "I cannot see," continued the doctor, "why 
 we should trouble ourselves about Miss Ohl- 
 strom. The most she could do is to tell the 
 police that a friend of hers, named Maxwell, 
 is missing. As she is the only person, appar- 
 ently, that knew him by that name, I would 
 not give much for the clue. Still, I should like 
 to know who she is. I never heard Fletcher 
 mention any women friends. One thing is cer- 
 tain: he has cut her out since last Thursday 
 night." 
 
 "It seems strange that he could leave her 
 without a word of explanation, or excuse, and 
 without writing her a line, if she thought 
 enough of him to hunt him up by going to 
 strange men's offices. Makes me think she's 
 not much good. Probably some girl he picked 
 up that he did not care to mention to his 
 friends." 
 
 "How about the letters of introduction?"
 
 Cab No. 44 217 
 
 "I think they are about as mythical as some 
 other parts of Mr. Hartley's testimony. But 
 when I get hold of Johnson, I will investigate 
 the young lady for myself. There may be some- 
 thing in it."
 
 THE more Hartley thought over what 
 the lawyer had said, the more frigh- 
 tened he became. He was so fearful 
 that Miss Ohlstrom would send out a general 
 alarm that he could not wait until morning, but 
 sent a telegram that night, demanding John- 
 son's presence at nine the next day. 
 
 Johnson was on hand promptly, and they 
 went into the sanctum and shut the sound-proof 
 door behind them. 
 
 "How is Doremus getting along?" was the 
 first question. 
 
 "Pretty slow job, that, sir," said Johnson, 
 apologetically, twisting his slouch hat in his 
 hands. "Expects to meet her to-morrow, 
 though. The young lady doesn't seem to have 
 any friends in particular, and never goes to no 
 balls nor public things like that, you know, 
 where a man could catch on. It's hard to work 
 that quiet respectable kind. Personal introduc- 
 tion is the caper, but that takes time." 
 
 "Seems to me that a stunning girl like that 
 ought to have lots of friends. She's built like 
 218
 
 Cab No. 44 219 
 
 a statue, from the ground up, and a face like a 
 picture." 
 
 "And may I ask where you seen her, sir?" 
 
 Hartley started. At first he was going to 
 deny ever having seen her, and insist that he 
 was only repeating Johnson's own description 
 of her. On second thoughts, after a glance at 
 the detective's face, he concluded that would be 
 useless. 
 
 "To tell you the truth, Johnson, that's why I 
 sent for you. She was here the other day." 
 
 "Oh, she was, was she! And what for?" 
 
 "She came to ask if I knew anything about 
 Maxwell's whereabouts. She seems to have 
 known Fletcher as Maxwell. That's another 
 clue for you to work on." 
 
 "It seems to me, sir, asking your pardon, 
 that it's a much more important clue that she 
 must have known that you knew Fletcher, or 
 she wouldn't come here." 
 
 Hartley was simply speechless. He was try- 
 ing to pull some smoke from a cigar that had 
 not been lighted yet. Johnson suggested the 
 use of a match. 
 
 "If you knows this Fletcher, sir, or did know 
 him, you could give us some very useful infor- 
 mation; instead of letting us hunt round in the 
 dark this way. I kind of thought once before,
 
 220 Cab No. 44 
 
 sir, that maybe he had tried to pass some notes 
 on you, or something like that. If you wouldn't 
 mind telling why you want him so- bad, it ought 
 to help a lot." 
 
 Hartley did not avail himself of the sug- 
 gested excuse. He wanted time to think about 
 it. "To-morrow, Johnson, or the next day per- 
 haps, I shall be in a position to tell you all 
 about it; but in the meantime, I can't. All I 
 wanted you for was to keep track of that fel- 
 low. I'm sorry you made a botch of it. But 
 what I want now, more than anything else," 
 stopping for a moment to pull at his cigar and 
 to think how he should put the matter, "what 
 I want now, more than anything else, is to get 
 Doremus and that girl together. Now, if you 
 will give me her address, I will guarantee to 
 have a letter of introduction to her for Dore- 
 mus three days from now. Call for it at this 
 office." 
 
 "Suits me exactly, sir." Pulling out a dingy 
 little note-book and thumbing over the leaves, 
 he added: "Here it is, sir. I'll copy it for 
 you." 
 
 Hartley took the slip of paper and glanced 
 at it. "Miss Stewart! I thought so. The 
 name she gave here was a fake, of course." 
 
 "Stewart's the name your man had at the
 
 Cab No. 44 221 
 
 first hotel he went to, you remember, sir. What 
 did she call herself here, sir?" 
 
 "Oh, it doesn't matter." 
 
 "But it may be useful, sir. If we know a 
 person has used a false name, it's often handy 
 to be able to spring it on them, sir." 
 
 "Well, she called herself Perkins here." 
 Hartley could not see why he should give the 
 right name, especially as the plan then form- 
 ing in his mind contemplated cutting Johnson 
 out of the whole affair at the first opportunity. 
 
 "Come here on Friday," he said at parting. 
 If I am not in, see my man McBride, and ask 
 him for a letter for you." 
 
 Johnson bowed himself out. 
 
 "James!" 
 
 McBride appeared at the door of the sanc- 
 tum. "Send this," sealing the name and ad- 
 dress in an envelope, after having scribbled 
 upon it. "This is the girl's right name and her 
 address. Johnson is sick." 
 
 "Send this over to Mr. Groscup's office at 
 once," he directed. "No answer. And, James, 
 I leave you in charge here after to-day. I am 
 going to Florida by to-night's train. Get me a 
 section when you go to luncheon ; but not a word 
 to a soul about it, remember. I shall not go 
 to the same hotel this time. I will advise you
 
 222 Cab No. 44 
 
 where to send letters. If any one comes and 
 asks any questions, put them off. Tell them any- 
 thing you like. Don't bother me with it." 
 
 In less than an hour after getting from Hart- 
 ley the name and address, Groscup had sent 
 one of his clever young men, an experienced 
 process-server, to spy out the land. He had 
 gone in the role of an agent for a photograph 
 gallery, and had "made himself solid," as he 
 expressed it, with the servant girl. 
 
 The address given was a boarding house, not 
 particularly fashionable, but of the better class. 
 Miss Stewart was not at home. Upon a 
 promise to give the maid a bromide enlarge- 
 ment of a picture of herself for nothing, she 
 had engaged herself to interest Miss Stewart 
 in the matter. Miss Stewart was very fine-look- 
 ing, and would make a splendid picture. She 
 had a small one in her room now. Could the 
 agent see it; just for a moment? The girl ran 
 and got it, and the agent had a good look at it. 
 It would be difficult to catch Miss Stewart at 
 home, the servant said, because she was out a 
 great deal. She dined every evening at a cafe 
 on Second Avenue, because she liked the music. 
 That was all the clerk could find out. 
 
 Upon the clerk's assurance that he could 
 recognize her by her picture, Groscup took him
 
 Cab No. 44 223 
 
 up to the cafe that evening. After he had hung 
 up his coat, the lawyer went to the head-waiter 
 and handed him a ten-dollar bill, telling him 
 he wished to be seated at the same table with a 
 certain lady as soon as she came in. The waiter 
 promised to reserve a table for them, and went 
 to do so. The two men sat in a little reception 
 room off the hall, and as soon as Miss Stewart 
 came up the stairs the clerk recognized her. 
 She was tall, apparently between twenty-five and 
 thirty, with a striking face that had almost too 
 much character in it to be beautiful, and a figure 
 which the clerk said would vex a saint. 
 
 As soon as he had pointed her out, the clerk 
 left the place, and the lawyer indicated to the 
 head-waiter that that was the lady he meant. 
 The waiter smiled. "You arc not the first, sir, 
 on that lay; not by no means," he said. "But 
 I tell you, sir," coming close enough to whisper, 
 "it's no go, sir. She's as straight as a string. 
 She used to come here with a handsome young 
 fellow; black mustache and Vandyke. I think 
 they are married." 
 
 "Perhaps they were lovers," ventured the 
 lawyer. 
 
 "No, sir. We know them. When lovers 
 have had a good dinner together, the man al- 
 ways slobbers over the girl a bit, and pats her
 
 224 Cab No. 44 
 
 as he helps her on with her coat and all that, 
 sir. There was none of that about them. I 
 judge they were about five years married, and 
 well suited to each other. A fine-looking couple, 
 sir. But I haven't seen him for a couple of 
 weeks. I think I could take you to that table 
 now, sir. You see, I have been careful to fill 
 all the others near it, so that it will look more 
 natural." 
 
 Groscup bowed, Continental fashion, on tak- 
 ing his seat. The young woman smiled in re- 
 turn and seemed not averse to a little conversa- 
 tion, the opening selection of the orchestra fur- 
 nishing the excuse. Her accent was decidedly 
 English, and her voice was particularly sweet 
 and low. She ate with the fastidious ease of a 
 thoroughly well-bred woman. Groscup felt 
 rather guilty as he became conscious of the fact 
 that they were very much observed by the other 
 diners. 
 
 Would she share a bottle of wine with him? 
 With pleasure. Groscup felt that he was get- 
 ting along famously. She was in no hurry, ap- 
 parently, and begged him to smoke. 
 
 "I used to smoke cigarettes at dinner when I 
 was in Russia," she said, "but it does not seem 
 to be the thing in this country. We do it in 
 England in private houses, you know."
 
 Cab No. 44 22$ 
 
 This seemed to open the way for some chat 
 about travel and about the people one meets. 
 Groscup managed to mention Mr. Frank Doug- 
 las, who was then abroad and enjoying himself 
 immensely. He watched her closely as he men- 
 tioned the name, but her face gave no sign. He 
 managed to twist the conversation round in 
 such a manner that he was able to bring in the 
 names of every person connected with the 
 affair which was uppermost in his thoughts. 
 He even hinted at the story of the bet at the 
 dinner. He tried every artifice known to the 
 expert cross-examiner, hoping to trap his fair 
 companion into a remark, a look, a recognition, 
 a question that would betray further interest. 
 
 It was useless. 
 
 He realized that he was talking to a charm- 
 ing woman, with a wide knowledge of the world 
 and its affairs, but who knew how to keep her 
 own counsel. She did not offer to give him her 
 name, although he mentioned his own several 
 times. When he finally assisted her to put on 
 her wrap, and handed her into a cab, after she 
 had positively declined his offer to see her home 
 and had skillfully parried all his hints about 
 meeting her again, he lit another cigar, and 
 went back to his table to think it over. 
 \ She was either a consummate actor, or else
 
 226 Cab No. 44 
 
 she had never heard any such names in her life 
 as Maynard, or Milton Fletcher, or Maxwell, 
 or James Walton, or George Hartley, or Frank 
 Douglas, or Dr. Ramie. Of one thing Gros- 
 cup was quite satisfied. She had not the slightest 
 interest in learning the present whereabouts of 
 Maxwell. 
 
 The head-waiter stepped up to the table as 
 the lawyer sat smoking, and made some pre- 
 tense of arranging the glasses. He hoped the 
 gentleman had enjoyed the evening. He had; 
 very much. Thinking that he might have oc- 
 casion to use the same privilege again, he pulled 
 out another bill and slipped it into the waiter's 
 hand. The tip seemed to inspire its recipient 
 with a desire to do something more for him. 
 
 "I saw you were getting along all right, sir," 
 he said. "Other gentlemen have tried it and 
 had a good time for one evening, sir. Of 
 course, you know, sir, we have all sorts of queer 
 people come in here. Some we can size up 
 quick; others is too deep for us, sir. She's the 
 best looker we've had in here this winter. I 
 thought I was on one night, sir, when the in- 
 spector came in here in plain clothes and took 
 a place where he could size her up. He didn't 
 $ay anything to me about that being what he 
 SKas after; but I could see he was mugging her
 
 Cab No. 44 227 
 
 all the time he was eating his dinner. I thought 
 perhaps she belonged to some gang, smugglers 
 perhaps. They're all good-lookers. Then he 
 went out in the cloak room, and felt around 
 until he found a loaded revolver in a heavy 
 winter coat. I saw him take a peep at it and 
 smile to himself. Then he put a man to watch 
 who handed in the check for that coat, sir. Yes, 
 sir. We have queer people come in here." 
 
 "I suppose it was her coat?" 
 
 "Sure!"
 
 CHAPTER XXV 
 
 WHEN Helen Ohlstrom mounted the 
 steps of the clubhouse on Tuesday 
 afternoon, she was alone. At the 
 door she met one of her father's old friends, 
 whom she had heard boast about his athletic 
 prowess in the days before there were any 
 athletic clubs in America. He wore the badge 
 of the reception committee, and seemed very 
 glad to see her. He asked her if she had ever 
 been there before, and assumed the respon- 
 sibility of helping her to enjoy the afternoon. 
 
 "We must get some nice young fellow to 
 show you round. Let me see," glancing behind 
 him. "There's McBride talking to those girls 
 in pink. He has been standing here for an 
 hour. Said he expected some one. Wait until 
 he comes back and I'll introduce you. He's a 
 fine fellow; one of the nicest chaps in the club. 
 I've known his family for years. Here he 
 comes." 
 
 The old gentleman must have been pretty 
 
 blind not to see that the girl he was talking to 
 
 was the person for whom McBride had been 
 
 watching for more than an hour. But he did 
 
 228
 
 Cab No. 44 229 
 
 not, and the young man took the cue very 
 nicely, and acted as if he had never seen the 
 young lady before in his life. 
 
 "This is James McBride, Miss Ohlstrom. 
 Let me present our coming quarter-mile cham- 
 pion and the future president of the club." 
 Then slapping McBride on the back, he added : 
 "Show her around, Jim." As they walked off, 
 he said to a friend standing by: "That's the 
 best-looking pair in the house to-day." 
 
 McBride took Helen all over the building, 
 and asked her if there was anything on the 
 program that she cared to see. He told her the 
 swimming tank was "beastly hot and stuffy" 
 on visitors' days, and suggested that they go up 
 to the library, where they could have a little 
 chat in one of the large windows and would not 
 be likely to be overheard. 
 
 When the girl was seated in the embrasure 
 of the window he did not seem to know ex- 
 actly how to begin, but her manner betrayed 
 that she was very impatient to hear what he 
 had to say about the matter nearest her heart. 
 
 "You know I had an awful row with the 
 governor at the office yesterday morning. I 
 couldn't tell him that I had called on you, you 
 know, so I told him you met me in the corri- 
 dor," McBride began awkwardly. She frowned
 
 230 Cab No. 44 
 
 a little at this, so he added quickly: "You will 
 have to forgive me for that, too. I am getting 
 to be an awful liar since I met you; but that is 
 the last, I hope. Just as an evidence that I can 
 tell the truth, will you allow me to say that you 
 are looking perfectly lovely to-day?" 
 
 While she smiled slightly and thanked him, 
 she was clearly not in the humor for compli- 
 ments and avoided meeting the eyes that were 
 simply devouring her. For a moment she al- 
 most wished they were not alone in the library. 
 
 "But what about Mr. Maxwell?" she in- 
 quired eagerly. 
 
 McBride's face changed at once. He did not 
 seem to like the subject. 
 
 "I suppose 1 may as well come right out 
 with it, Miss Ohlstrom," he answered, looking 
 round the room to be sure that no one had come 
 in. "The fact is" looking out of the window 
 and tugging at the blind "the fact is your 
 friend I mean the gentleman you knew as Mr. 
 Maxwell is a rascal." Without looking at 
 her, he could feel her tremble as she sank into 
 the window cushions. He did not like to look 
 at her. He went on. "I persuaded Mr, Hart- 
 ley that as I was his confidential man, he might 
 as well tell me the whole truth as have me find 
 it out elsewhere, and perhaps get a false im-
 
 Cab No. 44 231 
 
 pression. He says your friend's name is not 
 Maxwell at all. That is why you could not get 
 any information about him at the club. They 
 knew him there as Milton Fletcher. At the 
 last hotel he stopped at his name was James 
 Walton, and at the one he went to before he 
 was Milton Fletcher his name was Stewart, and 
 goodness knows how many other names he 
 had." 
 
 He stopped and looked at her for a moment. 
 She was very pale. She did not look up when 
 he ceased speaking. Her lips gradually com- 
 pressed until they were nothing but a thin 
 straight line, as she said decisively: 
 
 "I don't believe a word of it. Mr. Hart- 
 ley is deceiving you." 
 
 "No, I assure you. I went to the club this 
 afternoon myself, and I found he was known 
 there as Milton Fletcher. I went to the hotels, 
 and I found that his name was Fletcher at one 
 and Walton at the other. I promised to help 
 you, you know," he added, stooping over her, 
 "and I have done the best I could to find any 
 mistake on Mr. Hartley's part; but I am con- 
 vinced that he is perfectly frank in the matter.'* 
 
 She put up her hand, as if to keep him off, 
 and looked straight ahead out of the window. 
 Her eyes were full of tears now. "You must
 
 232 Cab No. 44 
 
 be mistaken," she said very quietly. "Mr. 
 Maxwell brought letters to us, you know, from 
 an uncle; papa's brother." 
 
 "Mr. Hartley told me that I would find out 
 he had made your acquaintance through letters." 
 
 "How on earth could he know that, when he 
 did not know who Mr. Maxwell was, even?" 
 she said quickly, as if she had found a flaw in 
 the story. 
 
 "He knows the man, and he knows the let- 
 ters were forgeries." She looked at him be- 
 seechingly, but he went straight on. "I may as 
 well tell you the whole truth, and have done 
 with it, Miss Ohlstrom, although I hate to hurt 
 your feelings in undeceiving you. Mr. Max- 
 well, as you call him, was one of the Ardmore 
 gang. The police found in his room at the 
 hotel some of the baggage that they knew be- 
 longed to the gang, and they were just going 
 to arrest him when he ran away. Their busi- 
 ness was passing bad bank notes, and it seems 
 that the gang used innocent women as tools to 
 pass the notes. They would pick out some 
 stylish-looking girl, and one of the best-looking 
 of the gang, who made a specialty of that sort 
 of thing, would present forged letters to her 
 family. Then he would make love to her, and 
 usually persuaded her to run off with him to
 
 Cab No. 44 233 
 
 some other country " She started violently, 
 
 and drew in her underlip with a little shudder. 
 "Once there, they would force her to pass off 
 their counterfeits, and sometimes " 
 
 He did not go on. The girl before him was 
 not listening. With her face buried in the 
 cushions beside her she was sobbing like a child. 
 He tiptoed over to the library door and closed 
 it. Then he went back to her. She heard the 
 door close, and stood up to meet him. Her 
 face was very stern. The mouth was a thin 
 red line once more. 
 
 "Please send me home at once," she said. 
 "I don't want to hear anything more. I don't 
 want ever to see you again. No!" She put 
 out her hand protestingly as he started toward 
 her. "You must forgive me, but I cannot bear 
 the sight of you. As for Mr. Hartley," she 
 added, her voice rising as if in anger, "I don't 
 believe him. I won't believe him. It's all a 
 lie," she almost shouted, stamping her foot. 
 "It's a lie and a shame, and I won't believe itl 
 If I believed that I would kill myself. It's a 
 lie, I say. A LIE!" 
 
 "But, my dear Miss Ohlstrom," he gasped, 
 quite carried off his feet by this sudden out- 
 burst of passion. 
 
 "I don't care what you say. I don't believe
 
 234 a b No. 44 
 
 it. I'll wait until I see him, if it's fifty years. 
 Oh, why doesn't he come back and deny these 
 dreadful stories!" She fell back into the win- 
 dow cushions again, and burst into hysterical 
 tears. 
 
 McBride was completely dumbfounded. He 
 could not imagine what to do. If any one 
 should come into the library and find him stand- 
 ing over a pretty girl in hysterics, he would 
 never hear the end of it. The only thing he 
 could think of was to call one of the women 
 servants and tell her that a lady had been taken 
 ill, and to put her in a cab and send her home. 
 But how to get her through the crowd down- 
 stairs with those streaming eyes and wet cheeks 
 he could not imagine. What would the old 
 gentleman say that had introduced them only a 
 few minutes before? 
 
 He stepped out into the hall. No one was 
 in that part of the building then. They were 
 all downstairs at the exhibition, probably. He 
 went as fast as he could to the servants' quar- 
 ters and called one of the maids. He explained 
 matters as they went back to the library to- 
 gether, slipping a bill into her hand, and ask- 
 ing her to manage it quietly. 
 
 When they reached the library, it was empty.
 
 CHAPTER XXVI 
 
 WHEN Helen Ohlstrom reached her 
 home again, and threw herself 
 upon the bed, there was only one 
 thought that stood out clearly and forcibly from 
 all the dreadful things she had listened to that 
 afternoon : "The best-looking of the gang 
 makes love to the girl, and persuades her to 
 run off with him to some foreign country." In 
 the hundreds of times that she had allowed her 
 memory to run over the details of that last eve- 
 ning with Hardy Maxwell, there had never 
 failed to be a little pang when she recalled his 
 peculiar insistence on the possibility that she 
 would have to go to him. 
 
 Somehow or other, she attached little impor- 
 tance to the change of names; it was so over- 
 shadowed by the other. Besides, McBride had 
 been guilty of that himself. It might be quite 
 common in business, although she was not aware 
 of it. She did not think anything about the 
 baggage in the room. The two dreadful facts 
 that stared her in the face were, that he had 
 run away, and that just before he went, evi- 
 235
 
 236 Cab No. 44 
 
 dently knowing he was going, he had asked her 
 if she would follow him. 
 
 She could not imagine what to do. She 
 longed for the sympathy and advice of some 
 trusted friend; but she could not think of any 
 one that she would dare to trust with such a 
 dreadful secret. McBride was the only one to 
 whom she had been weak enough to hint at 
 her engagement without being really sure of it 
 herself. He was the only person she could 
 think of in this emergency; but she shrank from 
 the thought of even seeing him again. She 
 divined his feelings toward her, and that fact 
 made her doubt his motives. He seemed to be 
 her evil genius. But for him she would never 
 have heard all these things about Hardy. 
 
 As she thought over the details of what 
 McBride had told her, she recalled as peculiar 
 the fact that Mr. Hartley should know that the 
 letters Hardy had brought to her parents were 
 forged. It suddenly flashed upon her that the 
 simplest thing to do would be to ask her father 
 to write to his brother in England and find out 
 if that letter was genuine. It struck her as 
 peculiar that Hardy Maxwell had brought no 
 other letters and seemed to have no other 
 friends. 
 
 On second thoughts, it would be awkward to
 
 Cab No. 44 237 
 
 ask her father to write such a letter. Why not 
 write it herself? She need not ask any direct 
 questions. Why could she not write a few lines 
 to her aunt, saying something nice about Mr. 
 Hardy Maxwell and what a pleasant acquain- 
 tance they had found him? If her aunt had 
 never heard of such a person, she would not be 
 long in saying so. The idea seemed so prac- 
 tical that she jumped up, almost resolved to 
 send a cable message. It was only the fear that 
 it would look too important that deterred her 
 from telegraphing. 
 
 She went downstairs and got the morning 
 paper. There was a mail vessel sailing on 
 Wednesday at n. The mails closed at 7:30. 
 If she wrote a letter at once and posted it that 
 evening, it would catch the morning mail at 
 7 :3O. To make quite sure, she took it to the 
 branch postoffice herself, and put a special de- 
 livery stamp on it; not knowing that such extra 
 postage was wasted on foreign letters. 
 
 Next morning at breakfast, she succeeded in 
 extracting from her father the opinion that a 
 letter sent to Europe that day would probably 
 be delivered on the following Thursday or 
 Friday week, and that the very earliest possible 
 answer would reach New York two weeks from
 
 238 'Cab No. 44 
 
 Saturday. In the winter it might not be de- 
 livered until Monday, if the boat was delayed. 
 
 That seemed a long, long way off to her; 
 but there was nothing to do but to wait. She 
 hoped that something might happen in the 
 meantime. Perhaps he would write 1 
 
 McBride called that afternoon about five 
 o'clock and sent up his card ; but Helen told the 
 maid to say she was not at home. She did 
 not want to see him. She wanted to be alone. 
 She simply dreaded the idea of having him re- 
 peat or add to any of the terrible things he had 
 told her the day before. 
 
 The next morning she received a very cour- 
 teous letter from him. It was full of regrets 
 for the pain he had caused her, and said he was 
 sorry that he had not found her at home when 
 he called on her. He regretted to say that Mr. 
 / Hartley had left the city, and he had had no 
 opportunity to verify or disprove anything; but 
 he was quite sure he was right about Mr. Max- 
 well. He ended by saying that if there was 
 anything he could do to get at the bottom of 
 the matter, he was at her service, absolutely 
 and without reserve. He had promised to help 
 her to find Mr. Maxwell, and he meant every 
 word of it. 
 
 Her first impulse was to make no answer;
 
 Cab No. 44 239 
 
 but after thinking over the matter all day she 
 realized more and more that after all he was 
 the only person who knew her trouble. He was 
 the only connecting link between herself and 
 her truant lover. Perhaps he could do some- 
 thing after all. While her instinct told her 
 that he might not be particularly anxious to 
 clear up every sinister rumor reflecting on 
 Hardy Maxwell's reputation, but that he might 
 be, if anything, secretly pleased at the idea of 
 getting rid of a rival, he might be able to de- 
 termine the doubts in her mind, one way or the 
 other. 
 
 So she sat down and wrote him a very 
 friendly note, in which she made this proposi- 
 tion. He had made dreadful accusations 
 against her friend and the friend of her family. 
 She did not believe a word of it. The very 
 least he could do, she thought, would be to 
 make some effort to prove the justice of his 
 accusations. He was a man. Why could he 
 not find out the truth beyond all question? All 
 he had said rested on the word of a third per- 
 son, Mr. Hartley. If Mr. Maxwell was such 
 a dangerous character, other people must know 
 it. 
 
 She kept a copy of that letter, which she could
 
 240 Cab No. 44 
 
 not help thinking was rather clever. She was 
 very curious to know what answer Mr. McBride 
 would make, or what he would do. She had not 
 long to wait.
 
 CHAPTER XXVII 
 
 MR. GROSCUP called at Hartley's 
 office on Thursday morning, only to 
 discover that Hartley had fled to 
 Florida, and that McBride was in full charge 
 of his affairs. 
 
 The lawyer was rather favorably impressed 
 with the appearance and manner of the young 
 man, and was in no hurry to bring his call to 
 an end. The opportunity to have a quiet talk 
 with Hartley's confidential clerk was rather too 
 good to be lost, the lawyer thought. He had 
 gathered from the interview with Hartley at 
 Green's that McBride was familiar with some 
 of the circumstances of the case in which Gros- 
 cup himself was engaged as counsel. The ex- 
 tent of the clerk's knowledge was problematical. 
 Perhaps McBride could throw some light on 
 certain parts which were not at all clear to the 
 lawyer so far. 
 
 The most natural introduction to the subject 
 was, of course, the girl in the case. Groscup 
 was very much astonished to learn that McBride 
 knew her personally and had called at her house. 
 In fact he could hardly believe it. 
 241
 
 242 Cab No. 44 
 
 "Well, Mr. McBride," he said, "I am Mr. 
 Hartley's counsel; retained in case there should 
 be any trouble in this matter. You are his con- 
 fidential secretary. Would it not be well for us 
 to be perfectly frank with each other?" 
 
 "Certainly, my dear sir. That is just what I 
 wish. I have nothing to conceal in the matter, 
 I assure you." 
 
 "Then you will not take offense at anything 
 I may say; however it may upset your precon- 
 ceived opinions of certain people?" He was 
 going to say "young ladies," but he thought 
 better of it. 
 
 "Of course not. I shall be glad to have a 
 few facts in place of all this talk." 
 
 "Well, the night before last, I dined with 
 the young lady you refer to." 
 
 "Indeed!" McBride was clearly astounded. 
 "At her house?" 
 
 "No. She never dines at home. In a cafe, 
 on Second Avenue." 
 
 McBride sat there with his mouth wide open, 
 as if he had seen a ghost. 
 
 "Why," he stammered, "I left her at the 
 Athletic Club in the afternoon; feeling very ill. 
 In fact she was completely prostrated." He 
 ran his hand through his curly hair for a mo- 
 ment and then added: "I don't understand this
 
 Cab No. 44 243 
 
 business at all. I wish I had never heard of it. 
 There seems to be some trick or double-deal- 
 ing on the part of every one. That forger, 
 Maxwell, started it all, it seems." 
 
 "That forger, Maxwell!" exclaimed the 
 lawyer, suddenly recalling a slip of Hartley's 
 that evening at Green's. "What do you mean 
 by referring to him as a forger, may I ask?" 
 
 "Didn't you know he was one of the Ard- 
 more gang?" 
 
 "What! The Bank of England forgers?" 
 
 "Certainly. The police found the gang's 
 effects in his room at the hotel, I understand. 
 They were about to arrest him when he skipped 
 out." 
 
 "You and I are evidently talking about dif- 
 ferent persons, Mr. McBride." 
 
 "That may be. I have never seen Maxwell 
 myself. All I know about him is hearsay. He 
 seems to have had more names than a cat has 
 lives. I don't think Hartley can be mistaken. 
 He made a clean breast of the whole affair to 
 me before he went away. He said he had met 
 this man under the name of Fletcher, quite 
 casually, at a dinner, I believe, and did not 
 know any more about him than his name. Had 
 no further interest in him. Did not even know 
 where he lived. About a week after Fletcher
 
 244 Cab No. 44 
 
 disappeared, a detective called on Hartley, and 
 stated that he had traced him up as one of 
 Fletcher's acquaintances. Wanted to take him 
 up to headquarters and put him through the 
 third degree, or something like that. Of course 
 Hartley was badly scared, and wanted to know 
 what Fletcher had been up to." 
 
 The lawyer was evidently very deeply in- 
 terested. 
 
 "Then the detective told Hartley what they 
 had found out about Fletcher, or Maxwell. 
 How they had traced him to the hotel, and 
 found some of the Ardmore gang's baggage in 
 his room, and all that. The only persons they 
 could think of, Hartley says, that Maxwell 
 would be likely to connect with, was this young 
 lady, Miss Ohlstrom " 
 
 "You mean Miss Stewart?" 
 
 "No, I mean Miss Ohlstrom." 
 
 "Well, go on. Hartley said the name was 
 assumed." 
 
 "Hartley says the detectives had shadowed 
 Maxwell, and had seen him with her on sev- 
 eral occasions, and that they were watching her 
 now, thinking he might write to her." 
 
 "They will catch a weasel asleep if they get 
 anything out of her; that's all I have to say. 
 She's nobody's fool."
 
 Cab No. 44 245 
 
 McBride went on without noticing the inter- 
 ruption : 
 
 "Of course I felt it my duty to state the facts 
 to Miss Ohlstrom, who is a friend of mine, and 
 to inform her that she had been grossly deceived 
 by the forged letters of introduction, and so 
 forth." 
 
 "Under what name did she know him?" 
 
 "Maxwell. Hardy Maxwell." 
 
 "And had she no knowledge of his knowing 
 Hartley, Maynard, Dr. Ramie, Douglas, and 
 the rest?" 
 
 "Of course she had. It was because she iden- 
 tified those gentlemen as friends of Maxwell's 
 that I demanded an explanation from Hart- 
 ley. She knew the whole story about the dinner, 
 and the bet they were going to make, and all 
 that nonsense." 
 
 "What a smart liar she must be !" exclaimed 
 the lawyer, half to himself. 
 
 "What do you mean, sir?" snapped the 
 younger man, his eyes flashing with anger. "I 
 trust you do not refer to Miss Ohlstrom?" 
 
 "Call her Miss Ohlstrom or Miss Stewart, 
 which you please. That is the one I was think- 
 ing of. She's the finest actress that ever lived, 
 and if Maxwell fooled her with forged letters 
 well, they were quite unnecessary*, that's all.
 
 246 Cab No. 44 
 
 You don't need letters to a woman of that 
 kind." 
 
 The young man rose from his chair sud- 
 denly. "Really, Mr. Groscup, I cannot permit 
 such language about a young lady that I con- 
 sider a personal friend." 
 
 "If you will sit down, and have a little pa- 
 tience, Mr. McBride, I think I can convince you 
 that your enthusiasm is due to your youth and 
 want of experience of the world. A woman that 
 carries a loaded revolver, and picks up acquain- 
 tances in a public cafe " 
 
 "What's that? What the devil do you mean, 
 sir? How dare you insinuate such things?" 
 
 "Sit down, my dear sir, and be calm," re- 
 joined the lawyer, quite unmoved. "Let me 
 ask you a question or two. Have you ever dined 
 at her house?" 
 
 "No," he snapped. 
 
 "Ever seen her parents?" 
 
 "No; but an old friend of mine knows them." 
 
 "Indeed! I shall have to trouble you for his 
 name and address presently. Who introduced 
 you to her, as you have never seen these alleged 
 parents of hers?" 
 
 "He did. At the Athletic Club ; on Tuesday 
 afternoon." 
 
 "Tuesday afternoon, eh? Rather a short ac-
 
 Cab No. 44 247 
 
 quaintance. Have you called upon her since 
 then?" 
 
 "Yes. That is to say," he stammered, "the 
 fact is, she was not in." 
 
 "You thought she was not in, perhaps." 
 McBride winced and began to feel rather queer. 
 The lawyer went on. "I judge from what you 
 say that she did not ask you to call at her house 
 the first time you went there. You say you have 
 not been there since you were introduced. 
 Were you welcome on the occasion of your first 
 call?" The lawyer smiled as he saw the color 
 come and go on the young man's face. "Was 
 not the first time you saw her here in the office?" 
 
 "Yes. She came in here to ask about Max- 
 well." 
 
 "The next time was when she waylaid you 
 in the corridor, downstairs?" 
 
 "That was a lie. I told Hartley that story. 
 The fact is, I called on her at her house." 
 
 "So the history of your acquaintance amounts 
 to this: A fine-looking girl strolled into this 
 office, and you got stuck on her, and practically 
 picked her up without knowing anything about 
 her. She allowed you to call on her, and '* 
 
 "Why, dash it all! Wasn't I introduced to 
 her on Tuesday?"
 
 248 Cab No. 44 
 
 "That is the day you told her Maxwell was 
 a fraud, I believe?" 
 
 "Yes, and she went on terribly about it, and 
 declared she didn't believe a word of it. Said 
 she didn't care what we thought; it was all a 
 lie. The fact is, I think she is engaged to Max- 
 well." 
 
 Groscup whistled. He was thinking of the 
 head-waiter's diagnosis of the case. "Married, 
 you mean," he suggested, with a smile. Notic- 
 ing how pale McBride turned at the words, he 
 went on : "She and Maxwell used to dine every 
 night at the same cafe that I dined in with her 
 on Tuesday night. The head-waiter told me he 
 thought they were married. He described Max- 
 well exactly." 
 
 The lawyer paused. McBride was becoming 
 paler every moment. Finally the young man 
 managed to ask: 
 
 "Did none of the party you were with know 
 that she was married?" 
 
 "There was no party. I never saw her be- 
 fore. The head-waiter put me at the same table 
 with her, and we got into conversation and had 
 a bottle of wine together. Fine-looking girl ! 
 I understand that she has quite a few what 
 shall I say admirers?" 
 
 McBride was holding on to the arms of his
 
 Cab No. 44 249 
 
 chair and staring at the lawyer as if he were 
 fascinated by a snake. He noted the cynical 
 smile that accompanied the last words. 
 
 "It's a lie," he hissed. 
 
 Groscup rose from his chair with great dig- 
 nity, and buttoned up his coat. "Really, 
 Mr. McBride, this has gone far enough. I shall 
 leave you to recover your senses and your good 
 manners together." 
 
 McBride was upon his feet in an instant, and 
 came so close that the lawyer thought he was 
 about to lay violent hands on him. "Liar I 
 Scoundrel!" he snarled. "You shall repeat 
 those words to Miss Ohlstrom's face, or I'll 
 break every bone in your body." 
 
 The lawyer was now really alarmed, and be- 
 gan to fear that he had a dangerous man to 
 deal with. "I am perfectly willing to meet her 
 in your presence, but I believe she is not at 
 home to you," retorted the lawyer, getting 
 warm himself. "As I am confident that she 
 will not refuse herself to me," with a bow, 
 pointing his hand to his breast, "suppose you 
 allow me to take you up to her?" 
 
 Groscup's manner was maddening. 
 
 "Yes. This minute. I'll go with you right 
 now." 
 
 "Such haste is entirely unnecessary," re-
 
 250 Cab No. 44 
 
 marked the lawyer, cooling off a little. She does 
 not wish people to whom she has not been in- 
 troduced to call at her house. She will dine 
 at the same cafe this evening, probably. Meet 
 me at my club at six o'clock and I will take you 
 there." Then seeing the young man was be- 
 coming calmer, he added: "I don't blame you 
 for being fascinated by such a woman; but I 
 fear you are not the first victim by any means. 
 Perhaps if I succeed in disillusionizing you, I 
 shall be doing you a service. To-night at six, 
 then."
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII 
 
 THE head-waiter was delighted to see 
 his patron again. Would he sit at 
 the same table with the lady? She 
 was not yet in the room. Groscup took the man 
 aside, and told him in a whisper that he would 
 prefer to sit near enough for his companion to 
 sit facing her, but not near enough for their 
 conversation to be overheard. He himself pre- 
 ferred to sit with his back to her, so that he 
 need not bow when she came in; but he would 
 like to be told when she arrived. That could 
 be easily arranged. 
 
 McBride seemed to enjoy his surroundings. 
 He liked the pretty women and the dresses 
 and the music, and the general air of life about 
 the place, all of which was quite new to him, 
 as he knew little or nothing of the restaurant 
 side of New York life. The two men had not 
 been seated long before a nudge from the head 
 waiter's elbow warned the lawyer that she had 
 arrived. McBride caught sight of her as she 
 came in, and he watched her all the way from 
 the door to her seat. He had a quick eye for 
 a pretty woman with a good figure. 
 251
 
 252 Cab No. 44 
 
 "Fine-looking girl about two tables behind 
 you," he whispered, as he carelessly broke a 
 piece of bread. 
 
 "Do you know her?" the lawyer asked care- 
 lessly, turning his head just enough to be sure 
 that it was she. 
 
 "Never saw her before." 
 
 "Doesn't she look like any one you know?" 
 The lawyer's tone betrayed his astonishment. 
 
 "Not particularly. Looks about the same 
 height and figure as Miss Ohlstrom; but older, 
 and nothing like as good looking." 
 
 "Indeed! You are looking at the woman 
 that is supposed to be Miss Ohlstrom. She 
 calls herself Miss Stewart." 
 
 McBride laughed aloud. 
 
 "That Miss Ohlstrom! My dear fellow, 
 that's nothing but an ordinary pretty woman. 
 Miss Ohlstrom is an angel." 
 
 The lawyer admonished him to speak a little 
 lower; but he went on, almost boisterously, ex- 
 tending his hand : "I beg your pardon, old man, 
 for everything that happened this morning. I 
 have only one explanation to offer, dash it all. 
 Hartley is a liar." 
 
 "But the woman you are looking at is un- 
 doubtedly Maxwell's wife," Groscup whispered.
 
 Cab No. 44 '253 
 
 "Hartley's end of it may not be straight; but 
 mine is." 
 
 "I don't care who she is," retorted McBride. 
 "A fine-looking woman ; but not my style. She's 
 not in it with Miss Ohlstrom for a minute. 
 But say!" with a sudden inspiration, "if you 
 can prove that Maxwell is already married, or 
 if this woman is engaged to him, you can do me 
 a great favor." 
 
 "We will come to that later," remarked the 
 lawyer, with a smile that showed he understood 
 perfectly what was in the younger man's mind. 
 
 "What I am curious to know is, how you came 
 to take this woman for Miss Ohlstrom." 
 
 The lawyer took out his card-case and pro- 
 duced a slip of paper, which he passed over the 
 table. "There is the address that Mr. Hart- 
 ley sent over to me." McBride glanced at it, 
 and laid it down with a laugh. 
 
 "That is not Miss Ohlstrom's address, any 
 more than it is her name. Her name is not 
 Stewart." 
 
 "She was followed from Mr. Hartley's office 
 to that address on the morning you first saw 
 her." . 
 
 "Indeed I" with another laugh. "By whom, 
 pray?" 
 
 "By one of the men in your office ; Johnson."
 
 254 Cab No. 44 
 
 "Johnson ! We have no one by that name in 
 the office. The only Johnson I know comes 
 from a private detective agency. He has some 
 important business with Mr. Hartley, appar- 
 ently. He is going to call to-morrow morning 
 for some letter, and I am to make some excuse 
 to put him off. I don't know anything about 
 his business with Mr. Hartley; but I certainly 
 do know that he never followed Miss Ohlstrom 
 that morning; because I went down to the street 
 with her myself." 
 
 "Oh !" was all the lawyer had to say. Then 
 the two men looked at each other for a space. 
 Each seemed to know the other was thinking 
 about something else. 
 
 "I should like to meet Mr. Johnson when he 
 calls for that letter. Could you detain him until 
 you telephone for me, do you think?" 
 
 "Certainly. If you will stay in, as I do not 
 know when he will come." 
 
 When the coffee was brought on, Groscup 
 turned round in his chair to look leisurely about 
 him, and then, as if quite unexpectedly, recog- 
 nized the lady at the table near by, and bowed. 
 She made a sign for them to join her, and 
 McBride was presented. The young man was 
 in high spirits at the termination of his day's 
 troubles, and made himself very agreeable. He
 
 Cab No. 44 255 
 
 also had to confess that Miss Stewart was a 
 charming woman. He observed that the lawyer 
 several times touched his foot lightly under the 
 table, at the same moment that he mentioned 
 some name, such as Maxwell, or Maynard, or 
 Hartley; but the woman showed no sign. He 
 might as well have dragged the name of his 
 office-boy into the conversation. 
 
 When it was about time to go, Groscup 
 seemed to think of something. "By the way," 
 he said, "I have taken the liberty of presenting 
 my friend by name. My own name is Groscup," 
 bowing. "Was I correct in addressing you as 
 Miss Stewart?" 
 
 "I wondered how you knew my name," she 
 said lightly; "but it is Mrs. Stewart. I am 
 sorry we did not see each other sooner. We 
 might have dined together. Good-night." 
 
 "Well," remarked the lawyer, as they stepped 
 out into the night air: "We have straightened 
 out two riddles to-day. You have helped me 
 considerably by identifying Mr. Maxwell as one 
 of the Ardmore gang; which is something I am 
 sure no one ever suspected before; and which 
 accounts for many things. I cannot imagine 
 why Mr. Hartley did not mention it. I, on the 
 other hand, have cleared up for you the mystery 
 surrounding Miss Ohlstrom. The next step is
 
 2 $6 Cab No. 44 
 
 to find Mr. Maxwell and land him in jail, I sup- 
 pose, although I am inclined to bet against that 
 being possible for some time to come. I should 
 also be very sorry to see such a charming woman 
 as Mrs. Stewart in such deep trouble." 
 
 "And I should be very glad to see Miss 
 Ohlstrom safely out of a nasty mess. Falling 
 in love with a married man is bad enough; but 
 with a thief and a forger, whose wife carries a 
 loaded revolver 1"
 
 CHAPTER XXIX 
 
 THE next morning McBride received 
 Miss Ohlstrom's letter, and he lost 
 no time in answering it. He began 
 by expressing his entire willingness to assist in 
 running down Mr. Maxwell, as he had 
 promised; adding, with great care to make it 
 seem like a most commonplace announcement, 
 that he had had the pleasure of meeting Mr. 
 Maxwell's wife at dinner the night before, and 
 that the task of finding Mr. Maxwell himself 
 would probably be much simpler now. 
 
 He sent the letter out to the post at once; 
 so that it should reach her that afternoon. He 
 spent most of his leisure that day in wonder- 
 ing what effect the latest piece of information 
 would have. 
 
 The effect was a telephone message, asking 
 him to call that evening. She did not ask for 
 him; but gave the message to the office-boy, so 
 that he had no chance to speak to her himself. 
 
 Miss Ohlstrom received him in the parlor. 
 She looked very pale, and her eyes betrayed that 
 she had been weeping. "I cannot stand this 
 suspense any longer," she began abruptly. 
 
 257
 
 258 Cab No. 44 
 
 "What is the meaning of that dreadful letter 
 you wrote me about meeting a Mrs. Maxwell?'* 
 
 McBride explained the circumstances with- 
 out the slightest regard for the anguish he was 
 causing the girl before him. He seemed to 
 glory in his triumph, and in the proof that his 
 estimate of Mr. Maxwell was correct. He pre- 
 sented the connecting links that had led to the 
 discovery, showing how various contradictory 
 stories told by Mr. Hartley had been pieced to- 
 gether; developing the fact that Mr. Maxwell 
 had been shadowed before his escape, and had 
 been frequently seen with this woman, who 
 acknowledged that her name was Mrs. Stewart, 
 and Stewart was the name that Maxwell had 
 given at the first hotel he went to, and was un- 
 doubtedly his right name. The head-waiter in 
 the restaurant had told Mr. Groscup that they 
 were a married couple. 
 
 Then he went on to tell how Mr. Groscup 
 had sent to the address given to Mr. Hartley 
 by the detective, and had found out about this 
 woman's dining at the cafe; and how Groscup 
 had gone there himself and got into conversa- 
 tion with her without the formality of an in- 
 troduction. He made no concealment of the 
 fact that Mr. Hartley had supposed, when Miss 
 Ohlstrom called at the office, that she was the
 
 Cab No. 44 259 
 
 person whose address the detective had given 
 him, and McBride took great credit to himself 
 for having discovered the mistake. He said 
 nothing about the scene in the office with the 
 lawyer the day before. In fact, he was rather 
 ashamed of it. 
 
 "It seems to me that it all comes back to Mr. 
 Hartley again," Helen said sadly. "I could 
 believe the story, perhaps, if he were not mixed 
 up in it; but I have no faith in anything that 
 comes through him. Did you address this 
 woman as Mrs. Maxwell?" 
 
 "Of course not. She goes by the name of 
 Stewart." 
 
 "Why didn't you say something about him, 
 or about some of his friends, so that you could 
 see if she knew them?" 
 
 He had to acknowledge that the lawyer had 
 tried that experiment on two occasions, without 
 success. "You see, Miss Ohlstrom, these crim- 
 inals are very clever. You can't catch them that 
 way." 
 
 "And who introduced you to this woman and 
 told you she was Mrs. Maxwell?" 
 
 "No one introduced us. Mr. Groscup got 
 into a conversation with her at the cafe. The 
 detective had followed Mr. Maxwell and seen 
 him with her several times."
 
 260 Cab No. 44 
 
 "Then it may be all a mistake. Her name 
 may not be Stewart at all. It may not be Max- 
 well. I think you said she had never been ad- 
 dressed as Mrs. Maxwell. If this woman will 
 come to me and tell me she is his wife, I might 
 believe her. No; I don't think I should. I 
 never dreamed there were such liars in the world 
 as I have heard of lately. I don't wish to doubt 
 your word, Mr. McBride; but I think you are 
 being humbugged." Then, taking a long 
 breath, and shaking her head with a very posi- 
 tive air, she added, in a much more determined 
 tone : "I don't believe a word of this Mrs. Max- 
 well story. There is only one person in the 
 world that I would believe, and that is Hardy 
 himself." 
 
 "But you must acknowledge that he is a shock- 
 ing liar. He changed his name three or four 
 times. There is no getting round that." 
 
 "I have thought over that too. I am not 
 so sure that it is not a mistake, just like all the 
 other things. I cannot help thinking that the 
 person you call Milton Fletcher and Mr. Max- 
 well are not the same. No one ever saw the 
 two men that claimed those two names together. 
 Did you ever meet any one that knew him as 
 'Mr. Maxwell?" 
 
 McBride had to acknowledge that he had
 
 Cab No. 44 261 
 
 not, but he insisted that he knew of persons who 
 had known him as Fletcher and as Walton. 
 
 "Did you know him as such?" she asked 
 quickly. 
 
 "No; but Mr. Hartley did." 
 
 "There comes Mr. Hartley again. No, 
 Mr. McBride, I may as well tell you the truth. 
 I don't doubt your good faith in the matter; but 
 I don't believe that Hardy is a liar. I don't be- 
 lieve he is a forger. I don't believe he is 
 married. I don't believe that this woman you 
 have picked up in a cafe is his wife. I should 
 not be surprised to learn that he never met her 
 in his life. I will put my faith in what I myself 
 know of Hardy Maxwell against all the detec- 
 tives and lawyers and Hartleys in the world." 
 
 McBride shrugged his shoulders, as if he had 
 nothing to say in the face of such obstinacy as 
 that. She went on: 
 
 "But enough of this. Can't we 'do something? 
 Can't we settle this uncertainty somehow, and 
 get to the bottom of it all?" 
 
 "I am ready to do anything you suggest," he 
 said quietly. 
 
 "Why not ask the police to find him?" 
 
 "I suppose they are doing their best in that 
 direction now, if they know who he is. I judge
 
 262 Cab No. 44 
 
 from the papers that the whole police force of 
 New York has been after that gang fornveeks." 
 
 "Why, he was in the city every day. He 
 went walking with me on the avenue. He be- 
 longed to a well known club. Why didn't they 
 arrest him then?" 
 
 "Give it up," was all McBride could say, for 
 he was struck by the force of her arguments. 
 "Shall I go to the police and tell them he was a 
 friend of yours, and went walking with you?" 
 He smiled ironically. 
 
 "Yes! Certainly!" she answered instantly. 
 "You can tell them that. I am not ashamed of 
 Hardy Maxwell. You can tell them that I went 
 walking with him; that he visited me at my 
 own home, and that I am engaged to him. And 
 you can add that I am not ashamed of it either, 
 and that I hope they will send for me the mo- 
 ment they find him. I want to be the first to 
 tell him that no matter what he has been to me, 
 I was true to him. Two wrongs do not make a 
 right, Mr. McBride, and his falseness, if such 
 it be, is no excuse for my being false to him." 
 
 Mr. McBride stood there stupefied. He 
 could not understand such philosophy. "Why," 
 he said, "if any one were to come and tell me 
 facts as straightforward as those I have told 
 you, I would certainly attach some weight to
 
 Cab No. 44 263 
 
 them, and take it for granted that my informant 
 was telling the truth until I found out the con- 
 trary." 
 
 "If you were in love with a girl and some 
 one came and told you stories about her, you 
 would take it quietly, and believe every word of 
 it, would you?" 
 
 "Why, of course " The recollection of 
 
 the language he had used to Mr. Groscup in 
 the office the day before stopped him, and he 
 turned very red in the face. He was about to 
 stammer something, when she went on: 
 
 "Your arguments do not convince me at all. 
 I do not believe any disinterested person would 
 listen to them. Perhaps if you will go and tell 
 the police that the dreadful forger they are look- 
 ing for is Mr. Maxwell, they might ask you for 
 proofs. Do you think your evidence would con- 
 vict him? If they asked me, I would swear on 
 a thousand bibles that he was innocent." 
 
 When he came to think over it, McBride had 
 to admit that he could not prove very much. 
 In spite of himself, he felt that she was right 
 about one thing; there were too many of Mr. 
 Hartley's falsehoods floating round to make a 
 straight story out of what he had heard. 
 Finally he had an idea. 
 
 "You seem to be the only person, Miss
 
 264 Cab No. 44 
 
 Ohlstrom, who knew him as Maxwell. At the 
 clubs and at the hotel he was known as Milton 
 Fletcher. There is no doubt about his being 
 the same man, as your own identification of him 
 is complete. Now, why not ask the police to 
 find Milton Fletcher? Have you a picture of 
 him?" 
 
 "No," she said, half regretfully, "and what 
 is very curious, I have not a line from him. He 
 never wrote me a note, and I never saw his hand- 
 writing." 
 
 "But you can describe him. Suppose we write 
 it down." 
 
 Yes, she could do that, and while the descrip- 
 tion may have been a trifle flattering, it was 
 fairly accurate; quite good enough for any de- 
 tective. The mustache and the Vandyke, Mr. 
 McBride did not think much of. He suggested 
 that Mr. Fletcher had probably cut all that off 
 when he ran away, if it was not false in the first 
 place. 
 
 "Oh, not that!" she said, looking up quickly. 
 "I cannot imagine him with a shaven face. 
 Please don't describe him without a mustache." 
 McBride was quite sure the mustache was mis- 
 leading; but it might stand in the description of 
 what Maxwell was. 
 
 An hour later, one of the men at 300 Mill-
 
 Cab No. 44 265 
 
 berry Street was reading over that description 
 carefully. He did not think much of it. He 
 wanted to know something about the clothes 
 Fletcher had on when last seen, and was specially 
 inquisitive as to the probable motive for his 
 disappearance. Was he in trouble, or in love? 
 Did he drink, or use drugs? Had he done any- 
 thing that was worrying him? Or had he just 
 dropped out of sight? Had he any money about 
 him at the time, that he might have been robbed 
 of? 
 
 McBride had no idea that he would be asked 
 so many questions. He thought the description 
 of the man's appearance was quite enough; 
 which made the officer smile. The most impor- 
 tant thing of all, the officer told him, was where 
 he was last seen alive, and by whom. McBride 
 promised to find that out, and bring the infor- 
 mation next day. Somehow or other, he was 
 glad to get out of that office. He felt that he 
 might make a slip any moment, and that the 
 officer would see through the whole thing, and 
 lock him up as a witness. He would then have 
 to account for his knowledge of the Ardmore 
 gang's affairs. 
 
 That night every police platoon that went on 
 duty in New York City heard a description of 
 Mr, Milton Fletcher read out at the station-
 
 266 Cab No. 44 
 
 house. From that day on, every policeman in 
 New York was supposed to have a special eye 
 out for a handsome young man about six feet 
 tall, with black hair; very quick and active in 
 his movements, and with an English accent. As 
 there are two or three such descriptions read 
 out every night, it is more than probable that 
 this one did not make any particular impression. 
 Fletcher's own observation would probably 
 apply, that as there was no financial inducement 
 for any officer to devote his time and attention 
 to that particular case, it would have to take 
 its chance with the rest. But Helen Ohlstrom 
 felt serenely confident that the police would find 
 Hardy Maxwell before morning. Such is the 
 popular belief in the power of forces with which 
 we are not acquainted.
 
 ON Friday morning Johnson was pacing 
 up and down the hall when McBride 
 arrived at the office. The confidential 
 clerk did not expect him so early, but he had 
 arranged a little signal with the office boy that 
 would call up Mr. Groscup at once. McBride 
 knew the detective by sight, having seen him 
 enter the private office with Hartley, so he ad- 
 dressed him by name and asked him to come 
 inside. 
 
 Mr. Hartley's absence from the city was 
 briefly explained as unexpected and unavoidable. 
 Mr. McBride's position as his confidential sec- 
 retary was also explained, dilated on, in fact; 
 but Johnson was wary. The first thing he asked 
 for was the letter. Had Mr. Hartley left one 
 for him? 
 
 "Why really, I don't remember it, you know. 
 He may have left it among some papers that he 
 told me would explain themselves. What was 
 it about?" 
 
 Johnson did not seem very willing to enter 
 into explanations ; but seemed to be put out that 
 the letter was not ready for him. He was 
 267
 
 268' Cab No. 44 
 
 wondering just how much this confidential clerk 
 knew, and just how much he could be trusted. 
 It was a difficult situation to handle, but with 
 the instinct of a true diplomat, Johnson decided 
 to let the other man do the talking. 
 
 Just then the boy tapped on the door ; put his 
 head in and said: "Not downtown yet, sir." 
 McBride nodded that he understood. 
 
 The idea that was uppermost in McBride's 
 mind was to discover, if possible, how Miss 
 Stewart had been mistaken for Miss Ohlstrom; 
 but at the same time he realized the importance 
 of avoiding any mention of Miss Ohlstrom. 
 That would immediately put the detective on her 
 track; perhaps with unpleasant consequences. 
 He had not the slightest idea what the letter 
 promised by Mr. Hartley should have referred 
 to, so he could not begin on that clue. The 
 only thing upon which he was at all sure of his 
 ground, was the slip of paper that Hartley had 
 sent over to Groscup, bearing Miss Stewart's 
 name and address. Why not begin on that? 
 
 "Mr. Hartley told me that you had followed 
 a young lady from this office one morning last 
 week," he began, "and had traced her to a cer- 
 tain address, which you gave him. I suppose 
 you have established the fact that she is a Mrs. 
 Maxwell?"
 
 Cab No. 44 269 
 
 The detective was evidently taken aback. 
 He did not know exactly what to say, and not 
 being as ready with subterfuges as Mr. Hart- 
 ley, he could not find words to conceal his 
 thoughts, so he kept silent. He could not 
 imagine how to account for Mr. Hartley's ex- 
 traordinary statement that he had followed 
 Miss Stewart from that office. Seeing that he 
 was expected to say something, he twisted his 
 slouch hat a little and looked at the floor for 
 fully a minute before he spoke. 
 
 "Well, it's not quite clear to me yet, sir," 
 and then he stopped, not knowing what more to 
 say, and not being very clear in his own mind 
 as to what he was talking about. He still 
 wanted to gain time. 
 
 "I suppose you have no idea where Mr. Max- 
 well is now," the young man went on, sparring 
 for an opening. 
 
 "Well, I know where part of him is, sir. 
 But I don't know where his head is, sir. I wish 
 I did." 
 
 "What do you mean?" inquired McBride, in 
 evident astonishment. 
 
 "Excuse me, sir," the detective said hurriedly, 
 "but I supposed that Mr. Hartley had told you 
 my theory of it." 
 
 "He did. But you see he didn't agree with
 
 270 Cab No. 44 
 
 it." This was a shot at a venture. McBride 
 had not the slightest idea to what theory the 
 detective was referring. 
 
 "I thought he didn't, sir. But it's pretty clear 
 to me, sir. Part of Mr. Maxwell is in chemi- 
 cals at the morgue, and the rest of him is still 
 in the river somewhere." 
 
 "But you don't mean to say " gasped the 
 
 young man. 
 
 "Sure I do, sir. I'm as certain of it as I'm 
 sitting here. It was Maynard murdered him, 
 in that cab. Both of 'em disappeared the same 
 night. I traced the cab to Maynard." 
 
 "What! You mean that cab they found by 
 the river two or three weeks ago?" 
 
 "That's the one, sir. Maynard hired that 
 cab, or stole it, and had his pal on the box. He 
 called for Stewart, or Walton, or Fletcher, or 
 whatever you call him, at his hotel and took him 
 away in that cab. Cut him up. Threw him 
 in the river." Johnson made appropriate mo- 
 tions with his hands to illustrate the tragedy. 
 
 "You must be crazy. Why haven't the police 
 arrested Maynard long ago? I thought there 
 was no clue whatever to the victim; much less 
 to the murderer." 
 
 "Well, sir, it's hard to prove it, you know; 
 but that's my theory. Mr. Hartley, he engaged
 
 Cab No. 44 271' 
 
 me on this job to follow Mr. Fletcher two weeks 
 ago Monday, as you know, sir. We shadowed 
 him for three days ; but the only person we could 
 find him connecting with was this Miss Stewart. 
 It's her address I gave Mr. Hartley, sir. I got 
 it following Fletcher. I never knew she was 
 at this office till Mr. Hartley told me, sir." 
 
 It was on the tip of McBride T s tongue to tell 
 Johnson that Miss Stewart was never in that 
 office; but he caught himself just in time. 
 
 "Mr. Hartley probably told you, sir," look- 
 ing at him inquiringly, "that we was to watch 
 for Mr. Fletcher at the Earlswood Hotel that 
 Thursday night." 
 
 "Yes, I know all about that," said McBride 
 quickly, seeing that the detective was evidently 
 feeling his way. 
 
 "But he never showed up. No one hasn't 
 seen him since. Nor Maynard neither." These 
 statements were each accompanied by emphatic 
 nods. "I followed up a clue I had at the Real- 
 ton, where Fletcher was stopping, and I made 
 up my mind by putting this and that together 
 that this here Cab No. 44, which was at the 
 hotel that night pretty late, was brought there 
 by Maynard. And he went away in it," with 
 another nod. "And no one ain't seen him since," 
 with a still more emphatic nod*
 
 272 Cab No. 44 
 
 "But what has that got to do with Maxwell, 
 or Fletcher? Where does he come in?" 
 
 "Maynard sent up his card to him at the 
 hotel, and waited around for him half an hour." 
 
 "Did they drive off together?" 
 
 "Now you've got me, sir. That's the place 
 where my trail is lost. I'm only surmising the 
 rest of it ; but it's a good working theory. Don't 
 you think so, sir?" 
 
 "Then you think that Maxwell is murdered? 
 Why don't you explain your theory to the police 
 and let them help you?" 
 
 "Yes, sir. I think he's the fellow that's in 
 the river. But I'm not giving my theory away 
 to the police. They would claim all the credit 
 for it themselves, sir, and throw me out. 
 They're kind of down on private detectives, you 
 know, sir. They hate to have any one smarter 
 than they is, sir, the police do. There's more 
 money in giving the steer to the papers, sir, than 
 to the police. That's my game when I'm 
 through with Mr. Hartley." 
 
 "What was the motive for murdering him?" 
 McBride asked, not noticing the last part of the 
 detective's remarks. 
 
 "Now you've got me again, sir. I can't find 
 out much about this Maynard, except that he 
 shot and killed a man once before. Wasn't
 
 Cab No. 44. '273 
 
 never tried for it, seemingly. These fellows 
 that are in society are pretty hard to trace when 
 it comes to their private lives, sir. What the 
 papers print about them is mostly guess work. 
 The motive, as you say, sir; that's what stumps 
 me." 
 
 "Then the whole police force of New York 
 are looking for a dead man," Mr. McBride re- 
 marked, musingly, as if talking to himself. 
 
 "There's no one looking for him, sir. The 
 police don't know nothing about it. Mr. Hart- 
 ley's paying me to keep quiet about my views, 
 sir. But it's hard, sir. It's very hard, with the 
 papers ready to pay big money for tips like what 
 I could give 'em." 
 
 "But I sent out a general alarm for Milton 
 Fletcher last night. I gave the police a com- 
 plete description of him." 
 
 Mr. Johnson gave a violent start. "For 
 mercy's sake, sir! And what did you say he 
 was wanted for? Did you tell them he was 
 one of the Ardmore gang?" 
 
 "Not at all. I just described the man, and 
 asked them to find him. What proof have you 
 that he was one of that gang?" 
 
 "Well, sir," said the detective, shaking his 
 head, "that's too long a story to go over again 
 now. But if you'd have told the police to find
 
 274 Cab No. 44 
 
 Maynard, sir, you'd have some fun. To have 
 the whole force looking for a dead man, and 
 they having parts of him in chemicals at the 
 morgue. Why, that's positively funny, sir; that 
 is." 
 
 McBride turned over several things in his 
 mind and started on a new tack. "You will ex- 
 cuse me, Mr. Johnson ; but I cannot quite recon- 
 cile your statement that it was in following Mr. 
 Fletcher, or Maxwell, nearly three weeks ago, 
 that you came across Miss Stewart; and Mr. 
 Hartley's statement that the first time you ever 
 saw Miss Stewart was when you followed her 
 from this office, only last week." 
 
 Mr. Johnson shrugged his shoulders. "That's 
 his business, sir. It's my private opinion, sir, 
 that Mr. Hartley knows a good deal more about 
 Mr. Fletcher than he cares to tell. I'm think- 
 ing he knows considerable about Miss Stewart, 
 too, sir. It was a letter of introduction to her 
 I was to get here this morning, sir. She's the 
 only chance we have to find out anything more 
 about Fletcher, who he was and where he come 
 from. In the meantime, I'm doing all I can 
 on my own account to locate Mr. Paul May- 
 nard." 
 
 "I can introduce you to Miss Stewart any 
 time."
 
 Cab No. 44 '2751 
 
 "The deuce you can, sir !" 
 
 "Yes. What Mr. Hartley wants more than 
 anything else at present, he tells me, is to es- 
 tablish beyond question the fact that this Mrs. 
 Stewart, as she calls herself is really Mrs. Max- 
 well, or Mrs. Fletcher, whichever you please." 
 Mr. McBride gasped at his own temerity in 
 making this statement. But why should he not 
 seize this opportunity to obtain the proofs which 
 would set all doubts on Miss Ohlstrom's part 
 at rest? No matter whether Maxwell were dead 
 or alive; if he were a married man, that would 
 be more than enough. 
 
 "Well, it wouldn't do for me to tackle her 
 myself, sir. We have a man that's been try- 
 ing to get acquainted with her for two weeks. 
 If you would introduce him, it would be what 
 Mr. Hartley's been after for some time, sir." 
 
 McBride made some remark about the man's 
 not having been very wide-awake if it took him 
 two weeks to make that acquaintance, when he 
 knew of some one that had done it in a few 
 hours. Had he known that the handsome Mr. 
 Frank Doremus, who was supposed to have that 
 matter in hand, had no existence outside Mr. 
 Johnson's imagination, and that Mr, Johnson 
 himself was not wasting any time on Miss 
 Stewart, he might have spared Johnson the
 
 276 Cab No. 44 
 
 necessity of blushing slightly, and laughing in 
 his sleeve at the same time. 
 
 McBride wrote the name of the Second 
 Avenue cafe on a slip of paper, and handed it 
 to the detective. "Bring your man there to- 
 morrow night at six, and I will introduce him." 
 
 "All right, sir. In the meantime, sir, I hope 
 you won't say anything about my theory of the 
 cab business to any one, sir; specially to the 
 police. They wouldn't give me no credit for 
 nothing, sir. If there is anything in that job 
 when Mr. Hartley's through with me, sir; I'd 
 like to make a bit out of it for myself through 
 the papers." 
 
 "You can trust me. In fact, Mr. Hartley 
 told me that anything you might tell me was to 
 go no further. And," he added slowly, glanc- 
 ing at his desk; "if you want any money, you 
 are to have whatever you call for for yourself 
 and Doremus. It might be worth a little extra 
 if you could get the proofs of that marriage in 
 my hands quickly." 
 
 "Thank you, sir. Of course, sir, a little cash 
 always comes in handy. Expenses has to be met 
 in this line, you know, sir." 
 
 "How about a couple of hundred?" 
 
 "Thank you very much, sir." 
 
 McBride excused himself for a minute and
 
 Cab No. 44 277 
 
 then returned with the bills. Johnson stuffed 
 them into his pocket, and promised there should 
 be no mistake about the meeting next night at 
 the cafe. He would soon get the proofs of that 
 marriage for him. 
 
 Johnson himself appeared at the appointed 
 time. Mr. Doremus was sick, he said, but 
 Johnson would pass the introduction along. He 
 was dressed for the occasion, and McBride could 
 not help smiling at the change in his appearance, 
 although he was evidently very ill at ease in a 
 dinner coat, and looked for all the world like a 
 waiter. 
 
 The head-waiter approached them and bowed 
 very low to McBride, who whispered a question 
 to him. The waiter was very sorry; but madam 
 would not be there again. She had dined there 
 last night, and had said good-by to him. She 
 was sailing for Europe to-day, and was already 
 on the high seas.
 
 CHAPTER XXXI 
 
 THE next morning, McBride lay back in 
 his easy chair and thought things 
 over, Helen Ohlstrom being the cen- 
 tral figure round which his reflections revolved. 
 The departure of Mrs. Stewart had been quite 
 a blow. She had undoubtedly gone to join Mr. 
 Maxwell. The hoped for proofs of that mar- 
 riage seemed a long way off now. 
 
 He had been particularly annoyed by observ- 
 ing that in all his meetings with Miss Ohlstrom, 
 she had regarded him chiefly as some one who 
 could talk about Hardy Maxwell; or who would 
 bring her news of Maxwell; or who would help 
 her to find Maxwell. He was especially hurt 
 when he thought of the eagerness with which 
 she had described Mr. Maxwell for the benefit 
 of the police, and how she had enlarged upon 
 his being so tall and handsome. 
 
 He had found the task of cutting out his 
 rival much more difficult than he had expected. 
 If any one had asked his opinion a week be- 
 fore, he would unhesitatingly have said that any 
 girl would throw a man over if she found he 
 had run away from her without a word of fare- 
 278
 
 Cab No. 44 279" 
 
 well or explanation. If that was not enough, 
 the knowledge that he was a well-known crim- 
 inal would have decided her. If there were any 
 doubt about that, she certainly could not with- 
 stand the blow of finding that he had been pay- 
 ing attention to another woman was probably 
 married even all the time he had been making 
 love to her. 
 
 These little things did not seem to affect 
 Helen Ohlstrom. The man on whom she had 
 wasted her affections was clearly a liar, travel- 
 ing under a number of false names. He was 
 undoubtedly a forger. He had unquestionably 
 been seen with another woman; he had dined 
 with her often in a public cafe. There seemed 
 little doubt that he was a married man. 
 McBride could not see why Miss Ohlstrom 
 should not cease to speak of him even. She 
 should hate the very memory of him, and do 
 her best to forget that such a creature had ever 
 crossed her path. But Helen Ohlstrom was ob- 
 stinate to exasperation. Now he could go to 
 her and tell her that Mr. Maxwell was dead. 
 That would be a non sequitur, and she would 
 probably come to her senses. That any woman 
 could be proof against such an accumulation 
 of accusations and proofs against her faithless 
 lover seemed incredible; but that she would hold
 
 Cab No. 441 
 
 on to him after he was dead was impossible. 
 Once this rascal Maxwell was out of her mind, 
 McBride felt that he would have a clear field. 
 The sooner that state of affairs could be brought 
 about, the better. 
 
 He called on her that evening, and ap- 
 proached the explanation as gently as he could; 
 because he did not want a repetition of the 
 scene at the Athletic- Club. He did not tell her 
 that Maxwell was murdered. That could come 
 later. It would be enough to say that he had 
 fallen into the river, and that his body had only 
 just been identified. 
 
 She did not cry. She listened as if he were 
 talking about something that had happened to 
 some one else, with which she had nothing to do. 
 She arrived at the source of his information 
 with a very few sharp questions, and then re- 
 marked dryly: 
 
 "Another story that Mr. Hartley is mixed 
 up in." She shook her head and said she did 
 not believe a word of it. 
 
 McBride went over all his arguments again. 
 It was perfectly useless. He hoped she would ask 
 him how Mr. Maxwell came to be in the river, 
 and he tried to lead her to that question by sug- 
 gesting that his death was the simple and only 
 explanation of her not hearing from him. But
 
 Cab No. 44 281 
 
 she did not seem to care what explanation might 
 be offered to account for his being drowned. 
 She didn't care if he had run away, she said, 
 and she did not believe he was dead. She didn't 
 care anything about his change of name; and she 
 didn't believe he was a forger. She did not care 
 if he did dine with another woman every night; 
 but she didn't believe he was married to her. 
 Finally she said she didn't care if he was 
 married; she didn't care if he was dead. She 
 said she was going to stick to Hardy Maxwell 
 until he told her those things himself, even if 
 she had to wait until the next world for the ex- 
 planation. 
 
 McBride frankly expressed his amazement at 
 such mad infatuation, especially when wasted 
 on such a worthless object. It seemed to him 
 to be a sin. 
 
 "No, it is not a sin," she said slowly, play- 
 ing with the tassel on the arm of her easy chair, 
 and gazing into the fire. "We cannot all be 
 good, Mr. McBride, any more than we can be 
 great or clever. Our natures do not admit it. 
 But there is one virtue we may all possess if we 
 will only cultivate it. We can at least be loyal to 
 our friends." 
 
 "But you surely do not call one a friend who 
 has grossly deceived you; who has given you a
 
 282 Cab No. 44 
 
 false name; who has flirted with another 
 woman; who has shown himself a coward and 
 a cad by running away without even saying good- 
 by, even if he is not the forger and rascal that 
 he seems to be? Why, I should think you would 
 loathe the very thought that such a person had 
 ever held a place in your affections for a 
 moment." 
 
 "I don't care what you say against him, Mr. 
 McBride," she said, quietly but sadly, as the 
 tears rose in her eyes, "some women go through 
 life without ever meeting the man they really 
 love the one man in the whole world that has 
 that subtle fascination for them that no woman 
 can feel more than once. Those that do meet 
 the right man go one of two ways; to heaven 
 with him; to the other place without him. If 
 the first path is not open to me, I will take the 
 second."
 
 CHAPTER XXXII 
 
 HREE weeks had passed since the 
 bloody cab had been discovered on 
 the dock, and the fourth week began. 
 On Saturday the thirty days would expire; but 
 so far from there being any sign of the solution 
 of the mystery, both the public and the police 
 seemed to have forgotten all about it. All John- 
 son's efforts to locate the fugitive Paul May- 
 nard had failed, and he had to be content to 
 nurse his pet theory of the cab murder in his 
 own bosom. In spite of such additional infor- 
 mation as McBride cared to give, the police pro- 
 fessed to be unable to find any trace of Mil- 
 ton Fletcher. McBride had not thought it ad- 
 visable to follow out Johnson's suggestion by 
 asking them to find Mr. Paul Maynard. 
 
 Helen Ohlstrom still refused to believe that 
 Hardy Maxwell was either dead or married, or 
 had ever been in love with another woman while 
 she knew him, or had ever committed any for- 
 geries, or belonged to any gangs. He had met 
 with some accident, probably in another town, 
 and when he was able to write to her he would. 
 283
 
 284 Cab No. 44 
 
 No matter how unreasonable that theory might 
 be, it was hopeful, and on that hope she lived. 
 
 Madge was no longer so anxious, apparently, 
 to impress upon her friend the desirability of 
 forgetting Hardy Maxwell. Perhaps the reason 
 for this change in her attitude was that she had 
 met McBride. 
 
 "These lovers are really very tiresome," she 
 remarked to a girl friend one day. "The last 
 time I was at Helen's, I could hardly keep from 
 yawning. Mr. McBride was there, and the one 
 absorbing topic of conversation seemed to be 
 speculations as to what might have happened 
 to that scamp Maxwell." 
 
 "What is Mr. McBride's interest in Mr. 
 Maxwell? I should not think he would care 
 to discuss the Englishman so much if he was 
 as fond of Helen himself as you imagine he is." 
 
 "Goodness knows! I used to try to bring 
 Helen to her senses by telling her that it was 
 ridiculous to believe that a man could not find 
 some means of writing a note or sending a mes- 
 sage if he was alive. But the only effect was 
 to make Helen go over all the absurd possibili- 
 ties again. I believe she is going crazy on that 
 subject. When I asked him why he humored 
 Helen so much Mr. McBride told me that the 
 only way he could make himself agreeable to
 
 Cab No. 44 285 
 
 her was to talk about Hardy Maxwell. As long 
 as he kept to that subject, he said, she would 
 listen forever." 
 
 "Very good of him to make a martyr of him- 
 self that way, just to please her, don't you 
 think?" 
 
 "Well, I told him I did not care to hear any- 
 thing further about Mr. Maxwell and that he 
 could talk to me about anything he liked. And, 
 would you believe it, all he could talk about was 
 Helen ! I really think he is just as much in 
 love with her as she is with Mr. Maxwell." 
 
 In reaching this conclusion Madge was per- 
 fectly correct. Mr. Hartley's wish had been ful- 
 filled, and the mortgage he hoped for on his 
 confidential clerk's attention was ready for fore- 
 closure. Mr. McBride had met Miss Right. 
 
 The hopelessness of his passion was becoming 
 more apparent every day; but he could not tear 
 himself from it. Every time he saw her he be- 
 came more madly in love with her. Sometimes 
 as he sat looking at her he would long for the 
 good old days of the middle ages, when he could 
 have snatched her from her home and carried 
 her off to some ancient fortress in some lonely 
 forest, bidding defiance to her family and her 
 feelings at the same time. 
 
 Mr. Groscup was quite satisfied that the storm
 
 286 Cab No. 44 
 
 had blown over, and he had cabled to Mr. 
 Frank Douglas to come home. McBride had 
 advised Mr. Hartley that unless he had any fur- 
 ther use for Johnson, it would be just as well 
 to stop that drain on his finances; because the 
 said Johnson was not at all bashful about draw- 
 ing money for the "expenses" of himself and 
 the handsome Mr. Frank Doremus, who 
 seemed to be still engaged on the case, although 
 the person for whose benefit he was employed 
 had disappeared from the scene. 
 
 Mr. Frank Douglas arrived at quarantine on 
 Friday night, too late to land; but he found 
 letters for him, telling him that Mr. Groscup 
 and Dr. Ramie would be at the dock to meet 
 him in the morning, and adding that everything 
 was quiet on the Potomac. He knew what that 
 meant, and he was glad to hear it. He had 
 eagerly searched all the newspapers that came 
 on board, to see if there were any item about 
 the mystery of Cab No. 44. Apparently that 
 incident was entirely forgotten, so many and 
 much more interesting events had happened 
 since. 
 
 The doctor was very glad to see the return- 
 ing capitalist, and congratulated him on his fine 
 appearance. Of course Douglas' first question 
 was about the cab, and he could not help ex-
 
 Cab No. 44 287 
 
 pressing his astonishment that no one had recog- 
 nized Maynard's ring. The fact that two 
 known men and an unknown cab-driver, could 
 completely disappear at the same time that the 
 tragedy happened, and no one even notice the 
 coincidence, was beyond him. The lawyer told 
 him that it was nothing but his guilty knowledge 
 that supplied the connection which no one else 
 had even dreamed of. Even if they knew that 
 two men and a cab-driver had disappeared, 
 which they didn't, he said, New York was a 
 large place, and many people drop out of sight 
 every day without exciting as much comment as 
 a stickful in the papers. 
 
 "And that fellow Fletcher," Douglas went 
 on, as they strolled up and down the dock, wait- 
 ing for the baggage to come ashore, "pity he 
 turned out to be a wrong-un, you know. I could 
 have used him in my business; and put him in 
 the way of making a great deal more every year 
 than that paltry five thousand he killed May- 
 nard for. No sign of him?" 
 
 "No. Not even a suspicion," said the doctor 
 with a laugh. "Eh, Groscup?" 
 
 The lawyer did not quite agree. He called 
 the doctor's attention to the fact that Mr. Doug- 
 las was not aware of the later developments 
 with regard to Mr. Fletcher's past, and then he
 
 288 Cab No. 44 
 
 proceeded to explain briefly to Mr. Douglas 
 that Mr. Fletcher could never have availed him- 
 self of Mr. Douglas' good intention to make 
 use of him in a business way, as the police were 
 after him for crimes only a little less serious 
 than the one of which they knew. 
 
 Douglas did not seem inclined to believe it. 
 "I liked that fellow," he said frankly. "He 
 seemed to me to be the real stuff. I make my 
 money sizing up the men I meet with and the 
 yarns they spin to me. Any man may commit 
 murder. We can't judge him until we know 
 what drove him to it. But if that fellow 
 Fletcher was a thief or a forger, I'll own up 
 I never was so badly fooled in my life." 
 
 The doctor smiled. "You're not fooled on 
 one thing, Mr. Douglas," he said, "Fletcher 
 was smart enough not to be caught. At least 
 he has only about ten hours more to stay hid, 
 and you get your money all right. Your judg- 
 ment was good enough to pick the winner 
 in that little bet. Come up to Green's to-night 
 at eight o'clock and I'll hand over the stakes. 
 This is the day, you know." 
 
 "You don't catch me going near Green's," 
 said Douglas, rather emphatically. "I should 
 have a blue funk if I went in there again. I 
 have never been able to forget that bloody
 
 Cab No. 44 289 
 
 pocket-book, and that fellow Fletcher, pale as a 
 ghost, backing out of the door with his watch 
 in his hand, telling us not to move for twenty 
 minutes. My! It gives me the shivers yet. I 
 know I'll be like Maynard. Remember that 
 yarn of his? Yes. I'll fall into the arms of the 
 first cop that looks at me." 
 
 "But you must come to Green's to-night at 
 eight, as agreed. Hartley will be there, and 
 Mr. Groscup has promised to come up, as he is 
 interested in the case. I have reserved the room." 
 "Not the same room, I hope?" 
 "Yes, the same room. Why not?" 
 "Can't stand it, my dear doctor. I should say 
 or do something that would give the whole thing 
 away, I know. I believe if I saw a spot on the 
 table-cloth I'd shriek. Too much of Banquo's 
 ghost about that place for me. Come up to 
 my club, or some other restaurant. Anywhere 
 but that room of Green's." 
 
 But the doctor insisted on Green's. That was 
 the agreement, and even if he stayed only long 
 enough to hear the clock strike eight and get 
 Mr. Hartley's acknowledgment that Fletcher 
 had not been found within the time specified, he 
 must come. Finally, after both men had argued 
 him into it, he agreed to be at Green's on time 
 that evening.
 
 UPON Hartley's return, which was on 
 Friday, he had been in no hurry, ap- 
 parently, to dispense with Johnson's 
 services. He seemed rather anxious, however, 
 to discover how much his confidential clerk had 
 learned about the mission upon which Johnson 
 had been originally engaged, and how much they 
 had exchanged confidences. 
 
 The manner in which the ground seemed to 
 have opened and swallowed Milton Fletcher 
 was a never-ending source of wonder and com- 
 ment with Hartley. How the police could have 
 completely dropped that murder mystery, when 
 it seemed to him that it should have been such 
 a simple affair, if they had only exercised a little 
 common sense, was another thing he never 
 ceased talking about. At the same time, he was 
 very glad that there was apparently no danger 
 of his being drawn into the case now. 
 
 "Mr. Groscup says you will never hear any- 
 thing more about it," McBride told him, "unless 
 Maynard comes back, or makes a death-bed con- 
 fession somewhere." 
 
 "Maynard come back ! How can a dead man 
 290
 
 Cab No. 44 291 
 
 come back? You mean Fletcher. Oh! Of 
 course! Yes! I understand. You have got 
 that theory from Johnson. Yes, yes!" and he 
 laughed it off, adding quickly, so as to change 
 the subject, "and how is Miss Ohlstrom?" 
 
 McBride's color changed instantly. ''She is 
 very well, thank you. Doesn't believe a word of 
 it though." 
 
 "Doesn't believe a word of what?" 
 
 "Doesn't believe he's a forger, or a married 
 man, or a dead man, or anything." 
 
 "Sticks to him, eh? Fine girl that. But 
 you say he never wrote her a line? Never 
 tried to see her, or anything?" 
 
 "I don't see how a dead man can do any- 
 thing like that very well, sir." 
 
 "That's so! Of course not! Of course not! 
 So he's dead, is he? What am I talking about? 
 Johnson's theory, of course. Well, forget it." 
 He got up and cut the end off a cigar. After a 
 pause he asked: 
 
 "By the way. How comes it that you know 
 so much about what Miss Ohlstrom believes, and 
 how she is? Been here again, has she?" 
 
 McBride blushed. He might as well confess 
 that he had met her accidentally at the Athletic 
 Club reception and had been introduced to her;
 
 292 Cab No. 44 
 
 had called on her once or twice and found her 
 very agreeable. 
 
 "Why, then she must be a respectable girl 1" 
 exclaimed Hartley in evident astonishment. 
 
 U I wish you to understand, sir," replied 
 McBride with some warmth, "that Miss Ohl- 
 strom belongs to one of the best families in the 
 city, and that I esteem it an honor to consider 
 her a personal friend of mine." 
 
 "Then what on earth was she doing running 
 with a professional forger?" Hartley answered 
 testily. 
 
 "He presented forged letters of introduction 
 to her father I believe." 
 
 "Then I advise you to tell her that the sooner 
 she looks them up the better." 
 
 "She has done so, sir. She expects a letter 
 by the mail that is due from England to-mor- 
 row. I see the boat is reported at Nantucket 
 Shoals, and should be at Sandy Hook some time 
 to-night. I am going to call on Miss Ohlstrom 
 to-morrow afternoon, to learn the result of her 
 letter of inquiry." 
 
 "Indeed! Well, just let me know how it 
 comes out. I shan't come down to-morrow ; but 
 I have a dinner engagement at Green's at eight 
 with Douglas and Ramie. If you learn anything 
 of importance, you might drop in there and let
 
 Cab No. 44 293 
 
 us know. We'll be there for an hour or two. 
 If it turns out that he has presented forged let- 
 ters of introduction, there should be no doubt 
 about the rest of his record."
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV 
 
 McBRIDE called upon Helen about 
 four o'clock; but no letter had ar- 
 rived from England. Her father 
 had received some foreign mail by that boat 
 earlier in the day, downtown, and she felt that 
 there was no chance now. She was evidently 
 very much depressed about it, and stood at the 
 window looking at the gathering darkness, wip- 
 ing off the window pane occasionally with that 
 peculiar nervous movement which forebodes a 
 fit of tears. 
 
 McBride had seen enough of that sort of 
 thing, so he thought it best to take his leave and 
 to promise to call later in the evening, as the 
 last mail would not be delivered until after six 
 o'clock. He was disappointed himself that the 
 letter had not come, and he hoped it would 
 arrive soon. He felt sure that when one prop 
 fell, and Mr. Hardy Maxwell's heartless de- 
 ception was exposed by the discovery of his 
 forged letters, the whole fabric of the girl's in- 
 fatuation would fall; and then, at last, his pa- 
 tience would be rewarded. He had not been 
 able to keep his promise to find Maxwell for 
 294
 
 Cab No. 44 295 
 
 her. But he could keep his vow to expose the 
 Englishman. 
 
 Helen was standing at the window when he 
 returned, and she flew to the door to let him in. 
 What a change two hours had made ! She was 
 radiant. She was a picture. He had never 
 seen her so beautiful before, as she rushed into 
 the parlor and then turned and faced him, wav- 
 ing a letter in her hand. 
 
 "There!" she said, "I knew it! I knew it! 
 Read that! No ; I'll read it to you. No. You 
 can read it yourself," forcing it into his hand. 
 "Oh, I'm so glad that I never believed any of 
 those horrid things," she said, as she stood fac- 
 ing him while he read, her hands clasped and 
 trembling with excitement; her face half smiles 
 and half tears. 
 
 It was a simple letter, which just filled four 
 sides of the sheet, closely but neatly written in 
 a girl's hand. It was from Miss Ohlstrom's 
 cousin and read: 
 
 "DEAR HELEN Mamma asks me to answer 
 your letter, as she is not very well. We are so 
 glad you like Hardy Maxwell. We got a long 
 letter from him about a week before yours 
 came. He said some awfully nice things about 
 you; in fact mamma thinks he must have inten-
 
 296 Cab No. 44 
 
 tions. But I suppose you know all about that. 
 I think he would be a perfectly splendid lover, 
 so tall and handsome. 
 
 Papa was a little worried because Hardy 
 wrote that he had resigned his position in Eng- 
 land; but he said he had something more promis- 
 ing on hand in America, and that he wanted 
 to stay there for other reasons. We could 
 almost guess what the other reasons were, after 
 what he said about you. You know he was chief 
 of the foreign service at Scotland Yard, and the 
 inspector told papa he was the most promising 
 man they had, and would be made an inspector 
 when he got back. He went to America after 
 some bank robbers or something, and he was 
 very lucky. I think papa said the chief of the 
 robbers happened to be on the same ship, and 
 Hardy got put in the same cabin with him, and 
 the captain was very kind, and took the robber's 
 bag into the captain's room on the last day, so 
 that Hardy could get it afterwards, and he found 
 all the robber's papers and things in it. A Mrs. 
 Stewart, that papa says is the cleverest woman 
 detective in the world, was with Hardy, and she 
 got the robber to make love to her, or some- 
 thing. Papa says she and Hardy managed 
 things so cleverly that they can arrest all the 
 robbers any minute, and a man is going over
 
 Cab No. 44 297 
 
 this week to bring them back; but I suppose 
 Hardy has told you all about it himself. 
 
 Give Hardy much love and tell him to write 
 often. 
 
 Your affectionate cousin, 
 
 AGNES." 
 
 McBride was speechless. His first thought 
 was of Johnson and his theory of the disappear- 
 ance. Could it be possible that some of the gang 
 had waylaid Hardy Maxwell and finding May- 
 nard with him and in the way, had killed them 
 both? That would account for the disappear- 
 ance of the two men. He had not the heart 
 to throw a cloud over the happy face before him 
 just then. If that were the solution of the 
 tragedy in the cab, it would come to light in 
 time. But after reading that letter he could 
 see no earthly reason why Hardy Maxwell 
 should not have written at least a line, unless 
 it were true that he was lying at the bottom of 
 the river. 
 
 "Now what have you got to say?" demanded 
 Helen, smiling radiantly, taking the letter from 
 him and holding it tightly in both hands as if 
 to be sure that it was real. 
 
 "I am sure I do not know what to say," 
 McBride faltered, beginning to feel sick at
 
 298 Cab No. 44 
 
 heart and discouraged at the turn things had 
 taken, "unless it is to go and tell the police to 
 look for a detective named Maxwell. I suppose 
 you still hold me to my promise to find him 
 for you, no matter what his name is?" 
 
 "Now don't be disagreeable," she admon- 
 ished, "but tell me what you think best to be 
 done. Some one must know where he is. Per- 
 haps detectives do not give their real names to 
 the police. Suppose you ask them if there is an 
 English detective in town, and where he is?" 
 
 McBride could not help smiling at the sim- 
 plicity of the suggestion, but at the same time 
 he was turning over in his mind several possi- 
 bilities that might be clues. Prominent among 
 them was the fact that Mr. Hartley was to be 
 at Green's that night with Douglas and Dr. 
 Ramie, and the business on hand was undoubt- 
 edly the settlement of that little wager with Mr. 
 Douglas. Mr. Maxwell was the object of that 
 wager. 
 
 As soon as he explained the situation to Helen 
 she felt intuitively that in some way or other 
 they would have news of Hardy Maxwell, and 
 she was seized with a feverish anxiety to learn 
 what took place at that dinner. She could not 
 wait until next day. Something within her, one 
 of those curious presentiments that we all have
 
 Cab No. 44 299 
 
 sometimes, seemed to urge her. some voice 
 seemed to tell her, to be as near that dinner 
 as she could get. She could feel herself drawn 
 towards it like a magnet. 
 
 She asked McBride where the dinner at which 
 he was to see Mr. Hartley was to be, and when 
 he told her, it flashed across her mind that there 
 was a theatre just round the corner and a play 
 that she had wished to see. What if Mr. 
 McBride could be persuaded to take her to that 
 theatre, and bring her the news from the dinner? 
 
 It would be dreadfully unconventional for 
 her to go to a theatre with him without a 
 chaperon, but she had done so many unconven- 
 tional things lately in her anxiety to get some 
 news of Hardy going to men's business offices, 
 meeting young men she did not know at athletic 
 clubs, and all that sort of thing, that one more 
 did not matter. 
 
 "Do you know what I should like to do?" 
 she began, looking at McBride archly. "I 
 should like to go somewhere." As she stopped 
 and looked up at him hesitatingly, he felt that 
 he would be willing to take her anywhere on 
 earth, if only to be with her during the journey. 
 
 "Well ! I should like to go somewhere where 
 it is all life and gaiety, and where I could laugh 
 and cry and no one would notice me. I should
 
 300 Cab No. 44 
 
 like to go to the theatre and see a play. Some 
 play where the lovers have a dreadful time, you 
 know, but everything comes out right in the end. 
 Only I'm afraid I should shout out to the 
 heroine not to be discouraged, and not to pay 
 any attention to what people told her. I'm sure 
 I should do something silly, and I know I should 
 cry when it turned out all right." 
 
 "I am sorry to say I do not know of any 
 such play," he remarked, without any particular 
 show of enthusiasm. 
 
 "But I do," she said, enthusiastically, naming 
 the theatre, 
 
 "Why, that is right round the corner from 
 Green's!" he exclaimed. "I promised to take 
 Mr. Hartley a message at Green's, some time 
 between eight and ten. Would you really go 
 with me? Shall I see if I can get tickets?" he 
 inquired eagerly. 
 
 "Oh please do! I will be very nice to you 
 to-night, you know; you have been so kind to 
 me. Oh, won't it be jolly!" and she fairly 
 skipped along the floor to the piano. "I will 
 be ready in half an hour. Don't mind dressing 
 for the evening, and I won't either. You look 
 very nice in that black suit." A handshake, a 
 smile, another glance at her letter, and she ran 
 upstairs.
 
 CHAPTER XXXV 
 
 THREE men assembled at Green's about 
 a quarter to eight, and went into the 
 private room in which two of them 
 had dined together more than a month before. 
 The three were Dr. Ramie, Frank Douglas, 
 and Mr. Groscup. Hartley had not appeared 
 yet. The table was already set, with pretty red 
 shades over the candles and button-hole bouquets 
 at each plate. 
 
 "Good old New York!" exclaimed Douglas, 
 as his eye caught sight of the cocktails stand- 
 ing by the plates, for one of which he promptly 
 reached. "Nothing like this abroad, you know. 
 Nothing but beastly cold rooms, with shocking 
 draughts everywhere, and all the people yap- 
 ping about fresh air and coughing their heads 
 off at the same time. Nothing like this out- 
 side little old New York," holding the cocktail 
 up to the light, and then draining it at a gulp. 
 "Tell the waiter to fill that up again. The temp- 
 tation was too much for my manners, boys." 
 
 A moment later Hartley burst into the room, 
 trembling with excitement. He did not even 
 say good-evening ; and although Douglas greeted 
 301
 
 302 Cab No. 44 
 
 him cordially and extended his hand, he took 
 it as if he did not see it. He did not even take 
 off his hat. 
 
 "What's the matter now?" demanded the 
 doctor, astonished at his manner. 
 
 "Read that, will you?" Hartley exclaimed, 
 pulling out the latest edition of the afternoon 
 paper, and slamming the door behind him. 
 "Caught him; on my word! At the eleventh 
 hour. Caught the whole gang. Here it is in 
 the extra, just out." 
 
 Groscup took the paper and found that the 
 scare headlines announced the capture of the 
 whole Ardmore gang, and all their parapher- 
 nalia. There were no particulars, except that 
 the leader was arrested in New York, and three 
 others in Philadelphia and Boston. All the 
 arrests had been made almost simultaneously 
 with the arrival of officers from England with 
 extradition warrants. 
 
 "What's that got to do with us?" asked 
 Douglas bluntly. 
 
 "Do with us? Why your man Fletcher is 
 Ardmore. Didn't you know that?" 
 
 The other men laughed. 
 
 "Say, you're getting nutty, Hartley," re- 
 marked Douglas. "Sit down and compose your- 
 self." Groscup approached Hartley and gave
 
 Cab No. 44 303 
 
 him a nudge, whispering in his ear, "You for- 
 get that these gentlemen did not employ John- 
 son." 
 
 The hint had an immediate and subduing 
 effect on Hartley, who cast about for something 
 to distract their attention from him, as he saw 
 they were evidently astonished at his conduct. 
 
 "What are all these places set for?" he de- 
 manded. "Only four of us, and a table set for 
 six." 
 
 "We took the room as it was," explained the 
 doctor, "and as the table is large, I suppose they 
 thought it would look better to dress it as 
 usual." 
 
 "Here, waiter," shouted Douglas to a waiter 
 who had just entered with some plates, which 
 he was placing on the side table. "Bring in two 
 more cocktails. I drank two of these already." 
 
 "That fellow's no waiter," remarked Hartley. 
 "He's only an omnibus. Wait until George 
 comes." Nevertheless, the man disappeared 
 and brought in two more cocktails, and then 
 stood with his napkin over his arm, as if wait- 
 ing to receive any further orders. 
 
 "Are you going to wait on us?" demanded 
 Hartley, rather sharply. The waiter bowed. 
 "Then you are a full-fledged waiter now, eh?" 
 The waiter smiled.
 
 304 Cab No. 44 
 
 "I think ze gentlemen will be pleased with 
 me," he said, showing his teeth and bowing 
 again. 
 
 "Well, we're all here," observed Douglas. 
 "Let's start in. Five minutes to eight now. 
 Got that check with you, doc?" The doctor 
 said he guessed he had everything with him, 
 and the four men sat down. 
 
 "Let's clear some of these things off," said 
 Hartley. "What's the use of having all this 
 stuff on the table?" 
 
 "It looks nice, I think," said Dr. Ramie 
 quietly, "but the waiter can remove them if you 
 like." Then, turning round, he said, "You 
 can bring up the soup now, John," upon which 
 the waiter disappeared, closing the door softly 
 behind him. 
 
 Hartley sat facing this door, and as soon as 
 he saw it shut he observed: "That fellow was 
 no good a couple of weeks ago when we were 
 in here. Surprising how quick they learn. 
 
 Great country for Holy smoke ! What's 
 
 that?" 
 
 Hartley had started from his seat with his 
 eyes fixed on the slowly opening door. A look 
 of absolute terror was on his face. The others 
 instantly followed his gaze and beheld a tall 
 man with a grey mustache, who stood just with-
 
 Cab No. 44 305 
 
 in the door and greeted them with a nervous 
 little laugh. Douglas gave a jump that shook 
 everything on the table, while the doctor simply 
 gripped the back of his chair. Groscup alone 
 remained unmoved until Douglas found his 
 voice. 
 
 "Paul Maynard! By all that's good and 
 holy!" 
 
 The new arrival advanced into the room with 
 his hand extended. "Just in time I see," he 
 said. "How do, Douglas? Hello, Hartley." 
 As the two men stood there, their mouths open, 
 their hands trembling with fright, Maynard 
 turned to Dr. Ramie. "A friend of yours, doc- 
 tor?" he said, nodding toward the lawyer. 
 "May I have the pleasure?" 
 
 After the introduction, which Groscup seemed 
 to look upon as some unexplained joke, May- 
 nard sat down at one of the vacant places at 
 the table and tried to appear at ease, although 
 it was evident that he was very nervous. The 
 silence for a minute was painful. 
 
 "Nothing wrong, I hope?" he asked, look- 
 ing round at them all and tossing off a cocktail. 
 
 Hartley and Douglas finally summoned cour- 
 age enough to sit down again, still staring at the 
 unexpected guest. Hartley was the first to re- 
 cover himself.
 
 306 Cab No. 44 
 
 "So you're alive, eh? Lost your money but 
 saved your life." 
 
 "How about that ring?" blurted Douglas, as- 
 sured that he was not talking to a ghost. 
 
 "You will have to ask some one else about 
 that, my dear fellow," said Maynard, with the 
 same nervous little laugh. He had evidently 
 not quite recovered his equanimity, in spite of 
 his efforts to control himself. 
 
 "But where on earth have you been, and what 
 happened to you?" . 
 
 "Why, my dear fellow, I've been down in 
 the West Indies. Had to take a boat home that 
 got here on Thursday, so as to be in time for 
 to-night, you know. So I ran down to Atlantic 
 City until this afternoon. New York is just 
 the same old place, I see." And then he gave 
 another nervous little laugh. 
 
 "But what about Fletcher, and the cab, and 
 
 the " Hartley stopped suddenly, -and 
 
 winked at the others as the waiter entered the 
 room. When the waiter had disappeared again, 
 Hartley repeated his question, adding, "And 
 the stolen pocket-book?" 
 
 "Why, you see, the fact is, there was some 
 delay in getting started. And then Fletcher 
 had some explanations to make in the cab be- 
 fore proceeding. As these were perfectly satis-
 
 Cab No. 44 307 
 
 factory, I gave him the pocket-book, and we 
 went on to the dock where the cab was found. 
 I supposed he would bring the pocket-book 
 here, as agreed." 
 
 "So he did," remarked the doctor. "I have 
 it in my pocket now." 
 
 "But the body in the river, and the blood in 
 the cab, and all that?" demanded Douglas, 
 almost below his breath. 
 
 "That was all a put-up job, my dear fellow. 
 You see Fletcher had an idea that per- 
 haps some one might give the thing away to 
 the police." Hartley turned a shade paler, and 
 toyed nervously with his fork. "But he said 
 that if it looked like a murder, no matter what 
 financial interest any one might have in the re- 
 sult, he would probably keep his mouth shut 
 after he had consulted a lawyer." 
 
 "Egad! That fits me!" remarked Douglas, 
 "Eh, old man?" slapping Groscup on the back. 
 Hartley was gradually becoming livid, and was 
 conscious that the doctor's eye was upon him. 
 He could not trust himself to speak. 
 
 "Most interesting," remarked Groscup. 
 "But may I ask, Mr. Maynard, how the cab 
 came to be all bloody, and how the body came 
 to be found in the river at that precise spot?" 
 
 "We had the blood with us in a demijohn,
 
 30& Cab No. 44 
 
 and as for the body, I believe there were only 
 parts of a body. We threw them in the river 
 after we had soaked the cab." 
 
 "Yes, egad!" exclaimed Douglas, interrupt- 
 ing. "And that reminds me of something that 
 I have lain awake nights thinking about. Who 
 drove that cab? Why could not the police find 
 him, even if they didn't catch any one else?" 
 
 Maynard gave another little laugh. "The 
 driver supplied the demijohn and the limbs, I 
 believe," and he looked hard at Dr. Ramie, who 
 was turning very red in the face as he found 
 every one at the table gazing at him. 
 
 "I may as well own up, gentlemen," said the 
 doctor, smiling, "I drove the cab." 
 
 Groscup relieved the situation by bursting 
 into a loud laugh, and before any one could 
 say another word the waiter entered the room 
 with the fish. When he disappeared again, the 
 doctor resumed: 
 
 "Yes, I stole the cab from in front of my 
 own door, after a confederate had coaxed the 
 driver inside to have a drink. It cost me fifty 
 to fix that up with the stable; but when I collect 
 that hundred from Hartley, I shall still be fifty 
 ahead. I changed the number on the lamps, as 
 directed by my confederate, and just there I 
 made a big slip, which I thought at one time
 
 Cab No. 44 309 
 
 would spoil the whole thing. The detectives 
 said the numbers were changed with a mixture 
 of liquid glue and ink. If they had examined 
 it carefully they would have found it was col- 
 lodion and ink, and they would have known that 
 it was a doctor that had done it. By tracfng 
 the cab to the house in front of which it was 
 stolen, they would have had me dead to rights, 
 especially as I still had some of the mixture on 
 the mantel. But the smartest detectives some- 
 times overlook important clues." 
 
 "Of course they do," interrupted Douglas. 
 "That's what I was betting on." 
 
 "By a fortunate chance," continued the doc- 
 tor, "we had an amputation that afternoon at 
 the hospital. Arm and leg run over close to 
 the hip and shoulder. After taking off the 
 limbs, I had an idea, and I just hacked off the 
 injured parts and put the rest in a bag. These 
 went into the cab with the demijohn. That 
 was human blood in the cab, all right." 
 
 "But I can't understand why no one recog- 
 nized that ring," persisted Douglas. 
 
 "No one had seen it for twenty years but 
 you and Maynard. It was knocking around in 
 a drawer in my office ever since I can remem- 
 ber. Fletcher saw it, and it was Fletcher's 
 suggestion that Maynard should put it on and
 
 310 Cab No. 44 
 
 call your attention to it that night at dinner. 
 Then he gave it to me, and I put it on the arm 
 we threw in the river. He did that to be sure 
 that you would think it was Maynard that was 
 murdered, and keep mum about it." 
 
 "We kept mum, all right. Eh, Groscup?" 
 laughed Douglas, slapping the lawyer on the 
 back again. 
 
 Groscup smiled, and looked at Hartley, who 
 was very quiet. "This is very interesting, 
 gentlemen," he remarked, "but as a lawyer it 
 seems to me that the kernel of the matter has 
 not yet been touched upon. Where is Fletcher 
 himself?" 
 
 "That is a question I am unable to answer," 
 said Maynard, with another nervous little 
 laugh. "He did not make a confidant of me. 
 Perhaps the doctor knows. He was with 
 Fletcher most of the time we were hatching up 
 our little scheme." 
 
 "Give you my word of honor, gentlemen; I 
 haven't seen him nor heard of him since the 
 moment he went out of this room after hand- 
 ing me that pocket-book." 
 
 "You'll find him in the station-house to- 
 morrow morning," said Hartley^ dryly. 
 "They've caught the whole gang. Since you 
 fellows are all making a clean breast of it, I
 
 Cab No. 44 311 
 
 may as well tell you what I know. Fletcher 
 
 was " The waiter appearing at the door 
 
 with a tray full of dishes, Hartley thought it 
 best to wait until he had gone out again. 
 "Waiters will talk," he remarked. 
 
 "It's nearly half past eight, and I claim the 
 stakes," observed Douglas, regardless of the 
 presence of the waiter. 
 
 "Not on your life," snapped Hartley. "If 
 they have that gang in jail, he's among them; 
 and they were arrested before eight o'clock; so 
 I win." 
 
 "What have we to do with any 'gang'?" 
 asked the doctor, quietly. Hartley nodded 
 toward the waiter, as if to warn the doctor not 
 to talk in his presence. "Go on. Don't mind 1 
 him," said Dr. Ramie. "What have we to do 
 with that gang?" 
 
 "Why, Fletcher's one of the Ardmore gang. 
 I may as well tell you, since you insist on it. 
 He called himself Fletcher, and Walton, and 
 Maxwell, and all sorts of names. He's one of 
 the slickest forgers on earth. You will never 
 see Maynard's five thousand dollars again; you 
 can bet on that. But you will find Fletcher in 
 the calaboose to-morrow morning," 
 
 "My five thousand dollars !" exclaimed May- 
 nard. "What are you talking about?"
 
 312' Cab No. 44 
 
 "Didn't he take five thousand dollars from 
 you in that pocket-book?" 
 
 Maynard lay back and laughed. The doctor 
 joined him. 
 
 "Shall I serve ze salad now, gentlemen?" 
 demanded the waiter, impassively. 
 
 "Yes. Serve anything you like," snapped 
 Hartley. "Bring in two more bottles first." 
 
 "I confess that I think Mr. Douglas is 
 right," remarked the doctor, as he helped the 
 waiter to lift the salad bowl. "We have noth- 
 ing to do with any Ardmore gang. As it is now 
 more than half-past the hour, I shall hand over 
 the stakes." 
 
 "If Fletcher is among that gang that was 
 arrested this afternoon, I will hold you respon- 
 sible," shouted Hartley, shaking his finger at the 
 doctor. Then he sat back and looked hot and 
 uncomfortable. 
 
 "You shall have your money if he was caught 
 before eight o'clock this evening," said Doug- 
 las reassuringly. "In the meantime, doctor, I 
 should like to feel the feel of that little check, 
 if you please." 
 
 The doctor pulled out the red leather pocket- 
 book and took from it the two checks. One 
 was the original given him by Douglas; the 
 other was Hartley's.
 
 Cab No. 44 313 
 
 "Just endorse that to my order, please," said 
 Douglas, pushing the check back toward Dr. 
 Ramie after he had examined it. "I see it's pay- 
 able to you." 
 
 The waiter, who was right behind Douglas, 
 picked up the check and handed it to the doc- 
 tor, stooping toward him at the same time, and 
 saying loud enough for them all to hear: "I 
 should much prefer it if you would endorse that 
 check to me, according to agreement." 
 
 Every man at the table started at the sudden 
 change in the waiter's voice and manner. Even 
 Groscup had his mouth wide open. Again 
 Douglas was the first to recognize the intruder. 
 
 "Milton Fletcher! As I'm a living sinner!" 
 he shouted, jumping out of his chair. "Give me 
 your hand, Fletcher. Ardmore gang, eh? 
 Rats! What a lark! What a police force! 
 Say, Hartley, you're easy. This is too good." 
 
 After the first outburst of surprise had sub- 
 sided, the erstwhile waiter took it very calmly. 
 He begged to be allowed to go and explain 
 matters to the proprietor, who came back with 
 him, and laughed at the gentlemen's little prac- 
 tical joke; but reproved them for depriving him 
 of a very promising waiter. 
 
 "Now tell us where you have been all this
 
 314 Cab No. 44 
 
 time, Fletcher," demanded the doctor, when 
 order was restored. 
 
 "I have never been out of this house since I 
 handed you that pocket-book. I went down to 
 the wash-room and shaved off my beard and 
 mustache. Coming up again, the proprietor 
 was standing at the top of the stairs, and I could 
 not very well pass him at that time of the morn- 
 ing without saying something. As I could not 
 think of anything else at the moment, I asJced 
 him if he wanted any waiters. To my surprise 
 he looked me over, said some complimentary 
 things about my appearance, and we struck a 
 bargain at once. I have not been outside the 
 door since." 
 
 "Why you rascal," said the doctor, "you were 
 in this room about three weeks ago when we 
 were here with Mr. Groscup?" 
 
 "Yes, and I saw that you did not recognize 
 me."
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI 
 
 A GENTLE knock at the door, and a new 
 waiter appeared, to say that there 
 was a gentleman to speak to Mr. 
 Hartley. It was McBride. He had excused him- 
 self at the end of the first act, telling Helen 
 that he would return almost as soon as the cur- 
 tain went up, but that he must take an important 
 message to Mr. Hartley. 
 
 Hartley introduced him with a simple wave 
 of the hand, a sort of inclusive introduction. 
 "Gentlemen," he said, "this is my confidential 
 man, Mr. James McBride. On Monday, he 
 will be a junior partner," slapping him on the 
 back, as he noted the blush that rose to the new- 
 comer's cheeks. 
 
 "That letter, sir," the young man whispered. 
 
 "Oh, hang the letter. That's all over with." 
 Noticing the evident look of astonishment on 
 the young man's face, he continued: "You know 
 the doctor and Mr. Groscup, and Mr. Doug- 
 las. This gentleman," pointing to Maynard, 
 "is the man that Johnson said killed some one." 
 Maynard stood up and smilingly shook hands 
 with McBride, who was staring at him blankly. 
 315
 
 316 Cab No. 44 
 
 "And now shake hands with the man Johnson 
 said he killed," continued Hartley, evidently en- 
 joying his little joke. "This is Mr. Walton, 
 or Mr. Fletcher, or Mr. Maxwell or some other 
 old name " 
 
 "Hardy Maxwell is correct," said the erst- 
 while waiter, standing up and shaking hands 
 with the stupefied McBride, who seemed actually 
 to shrink from him. 
 
 "Sit right down, James, and join us," said 
 Hartley, "we're going to make a night of it, 
 even if I have lost the biggest bet I ever made. 
 You shall be a junior partner on Monday. 
 That's no joke, my boy." 
 
 "Look here. I'm not going to be outdone 
 in the junior partnership business," interrupted 
 Douglas. "That is, not if Mr. Fletcher I beg 
 pardon, Maxwell, did you say? is agreeable. 
 You have ten thousand dollars capital to start 
 with, you know," he added, smiling at Hardy. 
 
 "I should be delighted," was all Maxwell 
 could say, his face all smiles, "provided you will 
 teach me the business." 
 
 The doctor rapped for order. 
 
 "There is still one thing to be cleared up," 
 he said, looking at Maxwell. "Why all these 
 false names?" 
 
 "I can explain that, gentlemen," remarked
 
 Cab No. 44 317. 
 
 McBride quietly, disregarding the warning 
 finger that Hartley gave him, although Hartley 
 himself did not know what was coming. "Be- 
 fore Mr. Maxwell resigned his position to carry 
 out this little joke, for I see that is what it must 
 have been, he was one of the leading detectives 
 in Scotland Yard. To him and to Mrs. 
 Stewart, whom some of you gentlemen have 
 met" this with a wicked smile at Hartley and 
 Groscup, both of whom looked guilty "and 
 who is one of the smartest women detectives in 
 the world, is due the credit of arresting the Ard- 
 more gang." 
 
 Groscup wanted to get under the table. 
 Hartley took a big drink before he ventured to 
 remark, aside: 
 
 "That's another thing that Johnson got up- 
 side down. He got the police and the Ardmore 
 gang as badly mixed as the victim and the mur- 
 derer, it seems." 
 
 "That is about as close as private detectives 
 usually come to it," remarked the lawyer, feel- 
 ing rather silly at the recollection of his examina- 
 tion of Mrs. Stewart at the cafe. 
 
 Hartley again urged McBride to sit down. 
 "I can't; I am at the theatre round the corner 
 with a friend," McBride explained. "But I
 
 318 Cab No. 44 
 
 should like to speak a word to Mr. Maxwell 
 before I go." 
 
 The two men went into the hall together, and 
 when Maxwell returned to the room, he looked 
 decidedly pleased about something. 
 
 "I am ahead of all you fellows in one thing, 
 I know," said Hartley. "Fill up your glasses 
 and I'll give you a toast. We will all drink to 
 Miss Ohlstrom. Stand up now, and every glass 
 goes over the shoulder empty." 
 
 "I'll not only drink to that; but I'll have a 
 guess at what it means, and I'll promise to fur- 
 nish the house for a wedding present. Am I 
 right?" laughed Douglas. 
 
 "I should like to make a few remarks," said 
 Groscup, after they had done the honors to that 
 toast, still standing. "I have had occasion to 
 speak to both my clients here about the evil 
 results that sometimes arise from after-dinner 
 episodes. But this one seems to have been a 
 happy exception. Here we have two young 
 men considerably advanced in their business 
 prospects." 
 
 "And a nice fat fee earned by the lawyer," 
 interrupted the doctor with a laugh. 
 
 "And a doctor getting fifty dollars for steal- 
 ing a cab," retorted the lawyer, bowing. 
 
 "And two private detectives working a great
 
 Cab No. 44 319 
 
 snap for a month. But that's my affair," put in 
 Hartley. 
 
 "Now gentlemen," continued the lawyer, fill- 
 ing up his glass, and motioning the others to 
 do likewise, "I want this little after-dinner joke 
 to have a still more happy outcome " 
 
 "We've had that toast," interrupted Hartley. 
 
 "I wish, gentlemen," continued the lawyer, 
 ignoring the remark, "that one of the results 
 of this little affair may be that we shall see Mr. 
 Hartley and Mr. Douglas bury the hatchet, and 
 be the best of friends in future." 
 
 Douglas set down his glass and extended his 
 hand to Hartley, who, after a moment's hesita- 
 tion, grasped it warmly. "Hartley, old man," 
 he said, "let's pull together instead of apart, 
 and you'll catch up that ten thousand inside 
 thirty days." 
 
 Then they all sang "He's a jolly good fel- 
 low," and got very merry. Douglas announced 
 that he wished to say a word for the police. 
 
 "They never had a chance in this case," he 
 remarked. "They didn't know what they were 
 looking for, let alone where to look for it. Let 
 us drink to their better success in more impor- 
 tant cases." 
 
 A few minutes before eleven, Maxwell, who 
 wai evidently watching the time ncrvp.usly r
 
 320 Cab No. 44 
 
 begged to be excused. He had an engagement 
 which he must keep. He hoped to see them all 
 there as his guests the following Saturday night. 
 "Good-by and good luck," they shouted in 
 chorus, as he went out. "Don't get pinched," 
 was Douglas' parting sally as the door closed.
 
 CHAPTER XXXVII 
 
 MR. McBRIDE returned to his seat in 
 the theatre looking very grave. In 
 spite of his efforts, he could not re- 
 spond to his companion's gay spirits, although 
 he tried to smile when she looked at him. She 
 laughed at the by-play of the already married 
 couple in the piece. She cried at the lovers' 
 parting, and she waved her handkerchief madly 
 at the happy ending. It was perfectly lovely, 
 she declared, although she was inwardly bitterly 
 disappointed that McBride had brought no news 
 from the dinner. 
 
 McBride had been consulting his watch very 
 often toward the end. They were among the 
 last to leave the theatre, and when they were 
 near the door, he said he had left his opera 
 glasses on the seat. He begged her to wait 
 a moment while he recovered them. He seemed 
 to be a long time finding out that they were in 
 his pocket all the time, and the attendants were 
 beginning to turn out the lights. 
 
 When they reached the side lobby, it was 
 empty, except for a tall young man who stood 
 321
 
 322 Cab No. 44 
 
 there, peering out into the night through the 
 glass doors. 
 
 "I think that is our carriage outside," re- 
 marked McBride, stopping to adjust his coat. 
 She noticed he was very pale. 
 
 "Yes, that is our carriage," he repeated ner- 
 vously, and so loudly that the remark seemed 
 intended for someone else. Then, extending his 
 hand to her as he removed his hat, he added 
 quietly, his voice choking with suppressed 
 emotion : 
 
 "I have had a delightful evening, Miss Ohl- 
 strom. Might I offer to repay in some slight 
 measure the pleasure you have given me?" 
 
 He stopped short. She could not help see- 
 ing the unmistakable sob that was choking him. 
 He gripped her hand hard as he went on : 
 
 "I have kept my promise to you. I have 
 found him for you," motioning toward the tall 
 young man who was now stepping hastily toward 
 them. "He will see you home." 
 
 As he released her hand and plunged through 
 the door into the darkness outside, she turned, 
 with a startled look, to the tall young man with 
 the black hair, who was holding his hat in his 
 left hand and extending his right with a smile. 
 
 "Don't you know me, Helen?" he said. 
 "This is Hardy," And the next moment she
 
 Cab No. 44 323 
 
 was in his arms, hardly knowing whether to 
 laugh or cry. 
 
 A minute later they were in the carriage, roll- 
 ing down the Great White Way toward the 
 Bridge. 
 
 "Now," she said decisively, "you shan't kiss 
 me any more until you give a full account of 
 yourself. "Where on earth have you been all 
 this time?" 
 
 "In New York. But that is too long a story 
 to tell you now. I stayed here so that you 
 should not have to come to me. The bride- 
 groom has come for his bride, as you wished it 
 to be." 
 
 THE END
 
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