THE BRAND OF SILENCE
 
 Tie Brand of Silence 
 
 A DETECTIVE STORY 
 
 By HARRINGTON STRONG 
 
 CHELSEA HOUSE 
 
 79 SEVENTH AVENUE NEW YORK CITY
 
 The Brand of Silence 
 
 Copyright, 1919 by STREET & SMITH 
 
 (Printed In the United States of America) 
 
 All rights reserved, including that of translation into foreign 
 
 languages, Including the Scandinavian.
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 I. IN THE HARBOR n 
 
 II. THE GIRL ON THE SHIP 21 
 
 III. SOME DISCOURTESIES 28 
 
 IV. A FOE AND A FRIEND 39 
 
 V. THE COUSIN 48 
 
 VI. MURK AND MURDER 56 
 
 VII. EVIDENCE 68 
 
 VIII. LIES AND LIARS 79 
 
 IX. PUZZLED 90 
 
 X. ON THE TRAIL . . * 99 
 
 XL CONCERNING KATE GILBERT .... 112 
 
 XII. BATTERED KEYS 122 
 
 XIII. A PLAN OF CAMPAIGN 131 
 
 XIV. MORE MYSTERY 140 
 
 XV. A MOMENT OF VIOLENCE 149 
 
 XVI. MURK RECEIVES A BLOW 157 
 
 2138265
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 XVII. MURK is TEMPTED . . . .... ,.- . . 162 
 
 XVIII. A WOMAN'S WAY ....... 170 
 
 XIX. COADLEY QUITS 182 
 
 XX. UP THE RIVER 188 
 
 XXI. RECOGNITION 198 
 
 XXII. AN UNEXPECTED VISITOR .... 209 
 
 XXIII. A STARTLING STORY 219 
 
 XXIV. HIGH-HANDED METHODS . . . . . 230 
 XXV. AN ACCUSATION 238 
 
 XXVI. THE TRUTH COMES OUT . ., . . 248
 
 THE BRAND OF SILENCE 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 IN THE HARBOR 
 
 NOW the fog was clearing and the mist was lift- ' 
 ing, and the bright sunshine was struggling to 
 penetrate the billows of damp vapor and touch with 
 its glory the things of the world beneath. In the 
 lower harbor there still was a chorus of sirens and 
 foghorns, as craft of almost every description, made 
 way toward the metropolis or out toward the open 
 sea. 
 
 The Manatee, tramp steamer with rusty plates and 
 rattling engines and a lurch like that of a drunken 
 man, wallowed her way in from the turbulent ocean 
 she had fought for three days, her skipper standing 
 on the bridge and inaudibly giving thanks that he 
 was nearing the end of the voyage without the neces- 
 sity for abandoning his craft for an open boat, or 
 remaining to go down with the ship after the manner 
 of skippers of the old school. 
 
 Here and there showed a rift in the rolling fog, 
 and those who braved the weather and lined the damp 
 rail could see other craft in passing. 
 
 A giant liner made her way past majestically, 
 bound for Europe, or a seagoing tug clugged by as 
 if turning up her nose at the old, battered Manatee. 
 
 Standing at the rail, and well forward, Sidney
 
 12 THE BRAND OF SILENCE 
 
 Prale strained his eyes and looked ahead, watching 
 where the fog lifted, an eager light in his face, his 
 lips curved in a smile, a general expression of antici- 
 pation about him. 
 
 Sidney Prale himself was not bad to look at. 
 Thirty-eight he was, tall and broad of shoulder, with 
 hair that was touched with gray at the temples, with 
 a face that had been browned by the weather. Sid- 
 ney Prale had the appearance of wearing clothes that 
 had been molded to his form. He had a chin that 
 expressed decision and determination, lips that could 
 form in a thin, straight line if occasion required, 
 eyes that could be kind or stern, according to the 
 needs of the moment. A man of the world would 
 have said that Sidney Prale was a gentleman of 
 broad experience, a man who had presence of mind 
 in the face of danger, a man who could think quickly 
 and act quickly when such things were necessary. 
 
 He was not alone at the rail and yet he was alone 
 in a sense, for he gave no one the slightest attention. 
 He bent over and looked ahead eagerly, waving a 
 hand now and then at the men on passing craft, like 
 a schoolboy on an excursion trip. He listened to the 
 bellowing sirens and foghorns, drank in the raucous 
 cries of the ship's officers, strained his ears for the 
 land sounds that rolled now and then across the 
 waters. 
 
 "It's great great!" Sidney Prale said, half aloud. 
 
 He bent over the rail again. A hand descended 
 upon his shoulder, and a voice answered him. 
 
 "You bet it's great, Prale"' 
 
 Sidney Prale's smile weakened a bit as he turned
 
 IN THE HARBOR 13 
 
 around, but there was nothing of discourtesy in his 
 manner. 
 
 "You like it, Mr. Shepley?" he asked. 
 
 "Do I like it? Does Rufus Shepley, forced to 
 run here and there around the old world in the name 
 of business, like it when he gets the chance to return 
 to New York? Ask me!" 
 
 "I have my answer," Prale said, laughing a bit. 
 "And judge, then, how I like it when I have not 
 seen it for ten years." 
 
 "Haven't seen New York for ten years?" Rufus 
 Shepley gasped. 
 
 "A whole decade," Prale admitted. 
 
 "Been down in Honduras all that time?" 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 "And you live to tell it? You are my idea of a 
 real man!" Rufus Shepley said. 
 
 Shepley took a cigar from his vest pocket, bit off 
 the end, lighted it, and puffed a cloud of fragrant 
 smoke into the air. Rufus Shepley was a man of 
 fifty, and looked his age. If human being ever gave 
 the appearance of being the regulation man of big 
 business affairs, Rufus Shepley did. 
 
 Sidney Prale had held some conversation with him 
 on board ship, but they had not become very well 
 acquainted, though they seemed to like each other. 
 Each man seemed to be holding back, waiting, trying 
 to discover in the other more qualities to like or 
 dislike. 
 
 "Ten years," Sidney Prale went on thoughtfully. 
 "It seems a long time, but the years have passed 
 swiftly."
 
 14 THE BRAND OF SILENCE 
 
 "I always had an idea," Rufus Shepley said, "that 
 a genuine white man who went to one of those Cen- 
 tral American countries turned bad after the first 
 year and went to the devil generally. But you don't 
 look it." 
 
 "The idea is correct, at that, in some instances," 
 Prale admitted. "Some of them do turn bad." 
 
 "They get to drifting, eh? The climate gets into 
 their blood. Do you know what I think? I think 
 that, in seven cases out of eight, it's a case of a man 
 wanting an excuse for loafing. I knew a chap once 
 who went down to that part of the world. Got to 
 drinking too much, threw up his job, used to loaf 
 all the time, married some sort of a half -black 
 woman who had a bit of coin, and went to the dogs 
 generally." 
 
 "Oh, there are many such," Sidney Prale admitted. 
 "But the majority of them are men who made some 
 grave mistake somewhere else and got the idea that 
 life was merely existence afterward. A man must 
 have an incentive in any climate to make anything of 
 himself and down there the incentive has to be 
 stronger." 
 
 "I assume that you er had the proper incen- 
 tive," Rufus Shepley said, grinning. 
 
 "I don't know how some persons would look at 
 the propriety of it. I wanted to make a million 
 dollars." 
 
 "Great Scott! Your ambition was a modest one, 
 I must say. And you managed to win out? Oh, I 
 beg your pardon! It isn't any of my business, of 
 course !"
 
 IN THE HARBOR 15 
 
 "That's all right," Prale answered good-naturedly. 
 "I don't mind. I'm so happy this morning that I'm 
 willing to overlook almost anything. And I don't 
 mind telling you that I've won out." 
 
 "A million in ten years," Shepley gasped. 
 
 "Yes; and with an initial capital of ten thousand 
 dollars," Sidney Prale replied. "I'm rather proud 
 of it, of course. I suppose this sounds like 
 boasting " 
 
 "My boy, you have the right to boast! A million 
 dollars in ten years! Great Scott! Say, would you 
 consider being general manager of one of my com- 
 panies? We need a few men like you." 
 
 Sidney Prale laughed again. "Sorry but I'm 
 afraid that I can't take the job," he replied. "I am 
 going to have my little holiday now going to play. 
 A million isn't much in some quarters, but it is 
 enough for me. I don't care for money to a great 
 extent. I just wanted to prove to myself that I 
 could make a million prove it to myself and others. 
 And, ready to take my vacation, I naturally decided 
 to take it in New York home!" 
 
 "Ah! Home's in New York, eh? Old friends 
 waiting at the dock, and all that!" 
 
 Sidney Prale's face clouded. "I am afraid that 
 there will be no reception committee," he said. "I 
 didn't let anybody know that I was coming for the 
 simple reason that I didn't know whom to inform." 
 
 "My boy!" 
 
 "I have a few old friends scattered around some 
 place, I suppose. I have no relatives in the world 
 except a male cousin about my own age, and I never
 
 16 THE BRAND OF SILENCE 
 
 communicated with him after going to Honduras. 
 There was a girl once " 
 
 "There always is a girl," Shepley said softly, as 
 Prale ceased speaking. 
 
 "But that ended ten years ago," Prale continued. 
 "I stand alone with my million." 
 
 "You advertise that fact, my boy, and there'll be 
 girls by the regiment looking up your telephone 
 number." 
 
 "And the right one wouldn't be in the crowd," 
 Prale said, the smile leaving his face again. 
 
 "Well, you are in for a fine time, at least," Rufus 
 Shepley told him. "There have been quite a few 
 changes in New York in the past ten years. Yes, 
 quite a few changes! There are a few new board- 
 ing houses scattered around, and a new general store 
 or two, and the street cars run out farther than they 
 used to." 
 
 "Oh, I've kept up to date after a fashion," Sidney 
 Prale said, laughing once more. "I'm ready to ap- 
 preciate the changes, but I suppose I will be surprised. 
 The New York papers get down to Honduras now 
 and then, you know." 
 
 "I've always understood," Shepley said, "that 
 there are certain gentlemen in that part of the world 
 who watch the New York papers very closely." 
 
 "Meaning the men who are fugitives from justice, 
 I see," said Prale. 
 
 "I didn't mean anything personal, of course." 
 
 "It does look bad, doesn't it?" said Prale. "I went 
 straight to Honduras when I left New York ten years 
 ago, like a man running away from the law, and I
 
 IN THE HARBOR 17 
 
 have remained there all the time until this trip. And 
 I have been gone ten years thereby satisfying cer- 
 tain statutes of limitation " 
 
 "My boy, I never meant to insinuate that " 
 
 "I know that you didn't," Prale interrupted. "My 
 conscience is clear, Mr. Shepley. When I land, I'll 
 not be afraid of some officer of the law clutching me 
 by the shoulder and hauling me away to a police 
 station." 
 
 "Even if one did, a cool million will buy lots of 
 bail," Rufus Shepley said. 
 
 The fog was lifting rapidly now. Here and there 
 through the billows of mist could be seen the roofs 
 of skyscrapers glistening in the sun. Sidney Prale 
 almost forgot the man at his side as he bent over 
 the rail to watch. 
 
 "Getting home getting home!" he said. "I sup- 
 pose no man ever gets quite over the home idea, no 
 matter how long he remains away. Ten years ought 
 to make a change, but I find that it doesn't. I'll be 
 glad to feel the pavements beneath my shoes again." 
 
 "Sure!" said Rufus Shepley. 
 
 "Confound the fog! Ah, there's a building I 
 know ! And there are a few I never saw before. 
 We're beginning to get in, aren't we? Ought to 
 dock before noon, don't you think?" 
 
 "Sure thing!" 
 
 "A hotel, a bath, fresh clothes and then for hour 
 after hour of walking around and taking in the 
 sights!" Prale said. 
 
 "Better engage a taxi if you expect to take 'em all 
 in before night, my boy," Shepley said.
 
 i8 THE BRAND OF SILENCE 
 
 "I forgot! We haven't any too many taxis in 
 Honduras. I had a car of my own, but sold it be- 
 fore I came away." 
 
 "You let the busy auto agents know that, and 
 you'll have a regiment of them " 
 
 "And there!" Sidney Prale cried. "Now I know 
 that I am home! There is the Old Girl in the 
 Harbor!" 
 
 Prale removed his cap, and a mist came into his 
 eyes that did not come from the foggy billows 
 through which the ship was plowing. The sun was 
 shining through the murk at last, and it touched the 
 Statue of Liberty. The great figure seemed like a 
 live thing for a moment; the mist made it appear 
 that her garments were waving in the breeze. 
 
 "Now I know that I am home!" Sidney Prale re- 
 peated. 
 
 "She sure is a great old girl!" Rufus Shepley 
 agreed. "Always glad to see her!" 
 
 "Well, I've got to get ready to land; I'm not 
 going to waste any time," Prale said. "I'm glad 
 that I met you and perhaps we'll meet again in the 
 city." 
 
 "Hope we do!" said Shepley, grasping Prale's 
 hand. "Our factories are out in Ohio, but the com- 
 pany headquarters are in New York, of course. 
 Here's my business card, my boy. And I generally 
 put up at the Graymore." 
 
 Sidney Prale took the card, thanked Rufus Shep- 
 ley, and hurried down the deck toward his stateroom, 
 one of the best on the ship. Rufus Shepley looked 
 after him sharply.
 
 IN THE HARBOR 19 
 
 "Went straight to Honduras and stayed there for 
 ten years, eh?" Rufus Shepley said to himself. "Urn! 
 Looks bad! I never put much stock in those Hon- 
 duras chaps but this one seems to be all right. 
 Never can tell, though!" 
 
 Sidney Prale, still smiling, and humming a Span- 
 ish love song, reached his stateroom and threw open 
 the door; and just inside, he came to a stop, aston- 
 ished. 
 
 Somebody had been in that stateroom and had 
 been going through his things. The contents of his 
 suit case were spilled on the floor. A bag was wide 
 open; he had left it closed and in a corner less than 
 an hour before. 
 
 Prale went down on his knees and made a quick 
 inspection. There did not seem to be anything miss- 
 ing. A package of papers business documents for 
 the greater part had been examined, he could tell 
 at a glance, but none had been taken. 
 
 "Peculiar!" Prale told himself. "Some sneak 
 thief, I suppose. No sense in complaining to the 
 ship's officers at this late hour, especially since noth- 
 ing has been stolen. Makes a man angry, though !" 
 
 He put the suit case on the table and began re- 
 packing the things that had been scattered on the 
 floor. Then he gathered up his toilet articles, bits of 
 clothing he had left out until the last minute, a few 
 souvenirs of Honduras he had been showing a tourist 
 the evening before. He turned toward the berth to 
 pick up his light overcoat. 
 
 There was a sheet of paper pinned to the pillow, 
 paper that might have been taken from an ordinary
 
 20 THE BRAND OF SILENCE 
 
 writing tablet. Sidney Prale took it up and glanced 
 at it. A few words of handwriting were upon the 
 paper, words that looked as if they had been scrawled 
 hurriedly with a pencil that needed sharpening badly. 
 
 "Retribution is inevitable and comes when you least 
 expect it." 
 
 The smile fled from Sidney Prale's lips, and the 
 Spanish love song he had been humming died in his 
 throat. He frowned, and read the message again. 
 
 "Now what the deuce does this mean?" he gasped.
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 THE GIRL ON THE SHIP 
 
 SIDNEY PRALE folded the piece of paper care- 
 fully and slipped it into his wallet. Winning a 
 fortune in ten years in a foreign country had taught 
 Prale many things, notably that everything has its 
 cause and effect, and that things that seem trifles may 
 turn out to be of great importance later. 
 
 He finished his packing, locked the suit case, put 
 on coat and hat and went out upon the deck. The 
 Manatee was docking. A throng was on the wharf. 
 Prale glanced at the buildings in the distance and 
 forgot for the time being the scrap of paper, because 
 of his happiness at being home again and his eager- 
 ness to land. Returning to New York after an ab- 
 sence of so many years was in the nature of an ad- 
 venture. There would be exploring trips to make, 
 things to find, surprises at every turn and on every 
 side. 
 
 The passengers were crowding forward now, pre- 
 paring to go ashore. Sidney Prale picked up his 
 suit case and started through the jostling crowd. 
 Already those on board were calling greetings to 
 relatives and friends on the wharf, and Prale's face 
 grew solemn for a moment because there was nobody 
 to welcome him. 
 
 "Not a friend in the world," he had said to Rufus 
 Shepley that morning.
 
 22 THE BRAND OF SILENCE 
 
 "A man with a million dollars has a million 
 friends," Shepley had replied. "The only trouble is, 
 you can't enjoy that sort of friends except by getting 
 rid of them, unless you happen to be a miser." 
 
 Well, that was something, Sidney Prale told him- 
 self now. He had ample funds, at least, and per- 
 haps he could enjoy himself after ten years of bat- 
 tling with financial sharks, of inspecting and working 
 mines, of cutting through dense forests and locating 
 growths that could be turned into wealth. 
 
 Prale put his suit case against the rail to wait 
 until he could move forward again. He looked down 
 at the throng on the wharf, and up and down the 
 rail at his fellow passengers. Then he saw the girl 
 again ! 
 
 He had seen her before. The first time had been 
 at Tegucigalpa, at a ball given by some society peo- 
 ple for charity. He had known her at once for an 
 American, and finally had obtained an introduction. 
 Her name was Kate Gilbert, and she lived in New 
 York. It was understood that she was of a wealthy 
 family and traveling for her health. She was accom- 
 panied only by a middle-aged maid, a giant of a 
 woman who seemed to be maid and chaperon and 
 general protector in one. 
 
 That night at Tegucigalpa, Prale had talked to her 
 and had danced with her twice. He judged her to 
 be about twenty-eight, some ten years younger than 
 himself. She was small and charming, not one of 
 the helpless butterfly sort, but a woman who gave in- 
 dication that she could care for herself if necessary. 
 
 Prale had been surprised to find her aboard the
 
 THE GIRL ON THE SHIP 23 
 
 Manatee, but she had told him that she was going 
 home, that her health had been much benefited, and 
 that she felt she could not remain away longer. It 
 had seemed to Prale that she avoided him purposely, 
 and that puzzled him a bit. He could not understand 
 why any woman should absolutely dislike him. His 
 record in Honduras was a clean one; it was known 
 that he did not care much for women, and surely 
 she had learned that he was a man of means, and 
 did not think he might be a fortune hunter wishing 
 to marry a prominent heiress. 
 
 He had not spoken to her half a dozen times dur- 
 ing the voyage. She made the acquaintance of others 
 aboard and, for the first few days, had been busy 
 in their company. The last three days had been 
 stormy ones, and Kate Gilbert had not been much in 
 evidence. Prale judged that she was a poor sailor. 
 
 Now she stopped beside him, the middle-aged maid 
 standing just behind her. 
 
 "Well, we're home, Mr. Prale!" she said. 
 
 "I suppose that you are glad to get home?" 
 
 "Surely!" she replied. "And I'll be angry if there 
 are not half a dozen to meet me when I land. I've 
 been trying to spot some friends in that crowd, but 
 it is a hopeless task." 
 
 "I hope you'll not be disappointed," Prale said. 
 
 As he spoke, he glanced past her at the middle- 
 aged maid, and surprised a peculiar expression on 
 the face of the woman. She had been looking 
 straight at him, and her lips were almost curled into 
 a sneer, while her eyes were flashing with some- 
 thing akin to anger.
 
 24 THE BRAND OF SILENCE 
 
 Prale did not understand that. Why should the 
 dragon be incensed with him? He was making no 
 attempt to lay siege to the heart of Miss Kate Gil- 
 bert. He was no fortune hunter after an heiress. 
 The expression on the face of the maid amused Prale 
 even while he wondered what it could mean. 
 
 "Picked your hotel?" Kate Gilbert was asking. 
 
 "Not yet, but I hope to get in somewhere," Prale 
 told her. "May I be of assistance to you when we 
 land?" 
 
 "Marie will help me, thanks and there will be 
 others on the wharf," she answered. 
 
 A cold look had come into her face again, and she 
 turned half away from him and looked down at the 
 crowd on the wharf. Sidney Prale looked straight 
 at her, despite the glare of the middle-aged maid. 
 Kate Gilbert was a woman who would appeal to a 
 majority of men, but there seemed to be something 
 peculiar about her, Prale told himself. He knew 
 that she had avoided him purposely during the voy- 
 age, and that she had spoken to him purposely now, 
 yet had asked nothing except whether he had chosen 
 a hotel. 
 
 Why should Kate Gilbert wish to know where he 
 was going to stop? Perhaps it had been only an 
 idle question, he explained to himself. In her happi- 
 ness at getting home, she had merely wished to speak 
 to somebody, and none of her shipboard friends hap- 
 pened to be near. 
 
 He turned from her and glanced at the maid again. 
 She was not the sort to be named Marie, Prale told 
 himself. Marie called up a vision of a petite, trim
 
 THE GIRL ON THE SHIP 25 
 
 woman from sunny France, and this Marie was noth- 
 ing of the sort. She appeared more to be a peasant 
 used to hard labor, Prale decided. 
 
 And he could not understand the expression on the 
 woman's face as she looked at him. It was almost 
 one of loathing. 
 
 "Got me mixed up with somebody else, or some- 
 body has been giving me a bad reputation," Prale 
 mused. "Enough to make a man shiver that look 
 of hers." 
 
 Kate Gilbert, apparently, did not intend to have 
 anything more to do with him. Smiling a little at 
 her manner, Prale lifted his hat, picked up the suit 
 case, and turned away. Once more he tried to force 
 a passage through the jostling crowd. He had not 
 taken three steps when Kate Gilbert touched him on 
 the arm. 
 
 "Pardon me, Mr. Prale, but there is something 
 sticking on the end of your suit case," she said. 
 
 Prale glanced down. On one end of the suit case 
 was a bit of paper. It had been stuck there by a 
 drop of mucilage, and the mucilage was still wet. 
 
 He thanked Kate Gilbert and picked the paper off, 
 but he did not throw it over the rail into the water. 
 He crumpled it in his hand and, when he was some 
 distance away, he smoothed it out. 
 
 There was a single word written on it, in the same 
 handwriting as that of the note he had found pinned 
 to the pillow in the stateroom "Retribution." 
 
 Sidney Prale glanced around quickly. Nobody 
 seemed to be paying particular attention to him. 
 Kate Gilbert and her maid had passed him and were
 
 26 THE BRAND OF SILENCE 
 
 preparing to land. Prale put the piece of paper into 
 his coat pocket and picked up his suit case again. 
 That bit of paper, he knew well, had not been on the 
 suit case when he had left the stateroom. It had 
 been put there as he had made his way through the 
 crowd of passengers along the rail. Who could have 
 stuck it there and why? 
 
 Now the passengers were streaming ashore, and 
 Sidney Prale stepped to one side and watched them. 
 Perhaps he had some business enemy on board, he 
 told himself, some man he had not noticed, and who 
 was trying to frighten him after a childish fashion. 
 He searched the faces of the landing passengers, but 
 saw nobody he had known in Central America, no- 
 body who looked at all suspicious. 
 
 "Either a joke or a mistake," Prale told himself 
 again. 
 
 He started ashore. He saw Kate Gilbert just 
 ahead of him, the bulky maid at her heels. An 
 elderly man met her, but did not greet her as a father 
 would have been expected to do. Prale saw them 
 hold a whispered conversation, and it seemed to him 
 that the elderly man gave him a searching glance. 
 
 "I must look like a swindler!" Prale mused. 
 
 Finally, as he went out upon the street to engage 
 a taxicab and start for a hotel, he saw Kate Gilbert 
 and her maid and the elderly man again, getting into 
 a limousine. The girl held a piece of paper in her 
 hand, and was reading something from it to the 
 elderly man. As she got into the car, she dropped 
 the piece of paper to the curb. 
 
 The limousine was gone before Prale reached the
 
 THE GIRL ON THE SHIP 27 
 
 curb. He put his suit case down and picked up the 
 piece of paper. There was nothing on it except a 
 couple of names that meant nothing to Sidney Prale. 
 But his eyes bulged, nevertheless, as he read them. 
 
 For the paper was similar to that upon which had 
 been written the note that he had found on the pil- 
 low in the stateroom and the coarse handwriting 
 was the same! 
 
 "What the deuce " Prale caught himself 
 
 saying. 
 
 Had Kate Gilbert written that message about retri- 
 bution and had her maid leave it in the stateroom? 
 Had Kate Gilbert written that single word and had 
 her maid paste it on his suit case as he passed, or 
 pasted it there herself? 
 
 Why had Kate Gilbert whom he never had seen 
 and of whom he never had heard until she appeared 
 at the ball in Tegucigalpa avoided him in such a 
 peculiar manner? And why had the mis-named 
 Marie glared at him, and expressed loathing and an- 
 ger when her eyes met his? 
 
 "What the deuce " Prale asked himself again. 
 
 Then a taxicab drew up at the curb, and he got in.
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 SOME DISCOURTESIES 
 
 SIDNEY PRALE obtained accommodations in a 
 prominent hostelry on Fifth Avenue, bathed, 
 dressed, ate luncheon, and then went out upon the 
 streets, walking briskly and swinging his stick, going 
 about New York like a stranger who never had 
 seen it before. 
 
 As a matter of fact, he never had seen this New 
 York before. He had expected a multitude of 
 changes, but nothing compared to what he found. 
 He watched the crowds on the Avenue, cut over 
 to Broadway and investigated the electric signs by 
 daylight, observed the congestion of vehicles and 
 the efforts of traffic policemen to straighten it out. 
 He darted into the subway and rode far downtown 
 and back again just for the sport of it. After that 
 he got on an omnibus and rode up to Central Park, 
 and acted as if every tree and twig were an old 
 friend. 
 
 He made himself acquainted with the animals in 
 the zoo there, and promised himself to go to the 
 other zoo in the Bronx before the end of the week. 
 He stood back at the curb and lifted his head to look 
 at new buildings after the manner of the comic 
 supplement farmer with a straw between his teeth. 
 
 "Great great!" said Sidney Prale.
 
 SOME DISCOURTESIES 29 
 
 Then he hurried back to the hotel, dressed for 
 dinner, and went down to the dining room, stopping 
 on the way to obtain a ticket for a musical revue 
 that was the talk of the town at the moment. 
 
 Prale ordered a dinner that made the waiter open 
 his eyes. He made it a point to select things that 
 were not on the menus of the hotels in Honduras. 
 Then he sat back in his chair and listened to the 
 orchestra, and watched well-dressed men and women 
 come in and get their places at the tables. 
 
 But the dinner was a disappointment to Prale 
 after all. It seemed to him that the waiter was a 
 long time giving him service. He remonstrated, and 
 the man asked pardon and said that he would do 
 better, but he did not. 
 
 Prale found that his soup was lukewarm, his 
 salad dressing prepared imperfectly, the salad itself 
 a mere mess of vegetables. The fish and fowl he 
 had ordered were not served properly, the dessert 
 was without flavor, the cheese was stale. He sent 
 for the head waiter. 
 
 "I'm disgusted with the food and the service," he 
 complained. "I rarely find fault, but I am compelled 
 to do so this time. The man who has been serving 
 me seems to be a rank amateur, and twice he was 
 almost insolent. This hotel has a reputation which 
 it scarcely is maintaining this evening." 
 
 "I'll see about it, sir," the head waiter said. 
 
 Prale saw him stop the waiter and speak to him, 
 and the waiter glared at him when he brought the 
 demi-tasse. Prale did not care. He glared back 
 at the man, drank the coffee, and touched the match
 
 30 THE BRAND OF SILENCE 
 
 to a cigar. Then he signed the check and went 
 from the dining room, an angry and disgusted man. 
 
 "Another thing like that, and I look for the man- 
 ager," he told himself. 
 
 He supposed that he was a victim of circum- 
 stances that the waiter was a new man and that 
 it happened that the portions he served were poor 
 portions. His happiness at being home again pre- 
 vented Sidney Prale from feeling anger for any 
 length of time. He got his hat and coat and went 
 out upon the street again. 
 
 He had an hour before time to go to the theater. 
 He walked over to Broadway and went toward the 
 north, looking at the bright lights and the crowds. 
 He passed through two or three hotel lobbies, satis- 
 fied for the time merely to be in the midst of the 
 throngs. 
 
 At the proper time, he hurried to the theater and 
 claimed his seat. The performance was a mediocre 
 one, but it pleased Sidney Prale. He had seen a 
 better show in Honduras a month before, had seen 
 better dancing and heard better singing and comedy, 
 but this was New York! 
 
 The show at an end, Prale claimed his hat and 
 coat at the check room and walked down the street 
 toward a cabaret restaurant. He reached into his 
 overcoat pocket for his gloves, and his hand en- 
 countered a slip of paper. He took it out. 
 
 There was the same rough handwriting on the 
 same kind of paper, and evidently with the same 
 blunt pencil. 
 
 "Remember retribution is sure!"
 
 SOME DISCOURTESIES 31 
 
 "This thing ceases to be a joke!" Prale told 
 himself. 
 
 His face flushed with anger, and he turned back 
 toward the theater. But he had been among the 
 last to leave, and already the lights of the playhouse 
 were being turned out. The boy in charge of the 
 check room would be gone, Prale knew. 
 
 He thought of Kate Gilbert again, and the bit 
 of paper she had dropped as she got into the limou- 
 sine down on the water front. Surely s'he could 
 have no hand in this, he thought. What interest 
 could Kate Gilbert, a casual acquaintance and reputed 
 daughter of a wealthy house, have in him and his 
 affairs ? 
 
 "Somebody is making a mistake," he declared to 
 himself, "or else it is some sort of a new advertising 
 dodge. If I ever catch the jokesmith who is respon- 
 sible for these dainty little messages, I'll tell him a 
 thing or two." 
 
 Prale turned into the restaurant and found a seat 
 at a little table at one side of the room. The after- 
 theater crowd was filling the place. The orchestra 
 was playing furiously, and the cabaret performance 
 was beginning. Sidney Prale leaned back in his chair 
 and watched the show. The waiter came to his side, 
 and he ordered something to eat and drink. 
 
 Then he saw Kate Gilbert again, at a table not 
 very far away from his. She was dressed in an 
 evening gown, as if she had just come from the 
 theater or opera. She was in the company of the 
 elderly man who had met her at the wharf, and a
 
 32 THE BRAND OF SILENCE 
 
 young man and an older woman were at the same 
 table. 
 
 Prale's eyes met hers for an instant, and he in- 
 clined his head a bit in a respectful manner. But 
 Kate Gilbert looked through him as if he had not 
 been present, and then turned her head and began 
 talking to the elderly man. 
 
 Prale's face flushed. He hadn't done anything 
 wrong, he told himself. He merely had bowed to 
 her, as he would have bowed to any woman to whom 
 he had been properly introduced. She had seen fit 
 to cut him. Well, he could exist without Kate Gil- 
 bert, he told himself, but he wondered at her peculiar 
 manner. 
 
 He left the place within the hour and went back 
 to the hotel and to bed. In the morning he walked 
 up the Avenue as far as the Circle, dropped into a 
 restaurant for a good breakfast, and then engaged a 
 taxicab and drove downtown to the financial district. 
 He had remembered that he was a man with a mil- 
 lion, and that he had to pay some attention to busi- 
 ness. 
 
 He went into the establishment of a famous trust 
 company and sent his card in to the president. An 
 attendant ushered him into the president's private 
 office immediately. 
 
 "Sit down, Mr. Prale," said the financier. "I am 
 glad that you came to see me this morning. I was 
 just about to have somebody look you up." 
 
 "Anything the matter?" Prale asked. 
 
 "Your funds were transferred to us by our Hon- 
 duras correspondent," the financier said. "Since you
 
 SOME DISCOURTESIES 33 
 
 were leaving Honduras almost immediately, we de- 
 cided to care for the funds until you arrived and 
 we could talk to you." 
 
 "I shall want some good investments, of course,'* 
 Prale said. "I have disposed of all my holdings in 
 Honduras, and I don't want the money to be idle." 
 
 "Idleness is as bad for dollars as for men," said 
 the financier, clearing his throat 
 
 "Can you suggest some investments? I have en' 
 gaged no broker as yet, of course." 
 
 "I er I am afraid that we have nothing at the 
 present moment," the financier said. 
 
 "The market must be good," Prale observed. "I 
 never knew a time when investments were lacking." 
 
 "I would not offer you a poor one, and good ones 
 are scarce with us at present," said the banker. 
 "Sorry that we cannot attend to the business for 
 you. Perhaps some other trust company " 
 
 "Well, I can wait for something to turn up," Prale 
 said. "There is no hurry, of course. Probably you'll 
 have something in a few weeks that will take care 
 of at least a part of the money." 
 
 The banker cleared his throat again, and looked a 
 trifle embarrassed as he spoke. "The fact of the 
 matter is, Mr. Prale," he said, "that we do not 
 care for the account." 
 
 "I beg your pardon!" Prale exclaimed. "You 
 mean you don't want me to leave my money in your 
 bank?" 
 
 "Just that, Mr. Prale." 
 
 "But in Heaven's name, why? I should think
 
 34 THE BRAND OF SILENCE 
 
 that any financial institution would be glad to get a 
 new account of that size." 
 
 "I er I cannot go into details, sir," the banker 
 said. "But I must tell you that we'd be glad if you'd 
 make arrangements to move the deposit to some 
 other bank." 
 
 "I suppose you don't like to be bothered with 
 small accounts," said Prale, with the suspicion of a 
 sneer in his voice. "Very well, sir! I'll see that the 
 deposit is transferred before night. Perhaps I can 
 find banks that will be glad to take the money and 
 treat me with respect. And I shall remember this, 
 
 sir! 
 
 (C 
 
 I er have no choice in the matter," the banker 
 said. 
 
 "Can't you explain what it means?" 
 
 "I have nothing to say nothing at all to say," 
 stammered the financier. "We took the money be- 
 cause of our Honduras correspondent, but we'll ap- 
 preciate it very much if you do business with some 
 other institution." 
 
 "You can bet I'll do that little thing!" Prale ex- 
 claimed. 
 
 He left the office angrily and stalked from the 
 building. Were the big financiers of New York 
 insane? A man with a million in cold cash has the 
 right to expect that he will be treated decently in a 
 bank. Prale walked down the street and grew angrier 
 with every step he took. 
 
 Before going to Honduras he had worked for a 
 firm of brokers. He hurried toward their office 
 now. He would send in his card to his old employer,
 
 SOME DISCOURTESIES 35 
 
 Griffin, he decided, and ask his advice about banking 
 his funds, and incidentally whether the financier he 
 had just left was an imbecile. 
 
 He found the Griffin concern in the same build- 
 ing, though the offices were twice as large now, 
 and there were evidences of prosperity on every side. 
 
 "Got an appointment?" an office boy demanded. 
 
 "No, but I fancy that Mr. Griffin will see me," 
 said Prale. "I used to work for him years ago." 
 
 Then he sat down to wait. Griffin would be glad 
 to see him, he thought. Griffin was a man who 
 always liked to see younger men get along. He 
 would want to know how Sidney Prale got his 
 million. He would want to take him to luncheon 
 and exhibit him to his friends tell how one of his 
 young men had forged ahead in the world. 
 
 The boy came back with his card. "Mr. Griffin 
 can't see you," he announced. 
 
 "Oh, he's busy, eh? Did he make an apopint- 
 ment?" 
 
 "No, he ain't busy," said the boy. "He's got 
 his feet set up on the desk and he's readin' about 
 yesterday's ball game. He said to say that he didn't 
 have time to see you this mornin', and that he 
 wouldn't ever have time to see you." 
 
 "Don't be discourteous, you young imp!" Prale 
 said, his face flushing. "You're sure you handed 
 Mr. Griffin my card?" 
 
 "Oh, I handed it to him and don't you try to 
 run any bluff on me!" the boy answered. "From 
 the way the boss acted, I guess you don't stand very 
 high with him!"
 
 36 THE BRAND OF SILENCE 
 
 The boy went back to his chair, and Sidney Prale 
 went from the office, a puzzled and angry man. 
 There probably was some mistake, he told himself. 
 He'd meet Griffin during the day and tell him 
 about the adventure. 
 
 He was anxious to meet some of the men with 
 whom he had worked ten years before, but he did 
 not know where to find them. He'd have to wait 
 and ask Griffin what had become of them. Then, 
 too, he wanted to transfer his funds. 
 
 Prale got another taxicab and started making the 
 rounds of the banks he knew to be solid institutions. 
 Within a few hours he had made arrangements to 
 transfer the account, using four financial institutions. 
 He said nothing, except that the money had been 
 transferred to the trust company from Honduras, 
 because the company had a correspondent there. 
 
 His funds secure, Prale went back uptown and 
 to the hotel. The clerk handed him a note with his 
 key. Prale tore it open after he stepped into the 
 elevator. This time it was a sheet of paper upon 
 which a message had been typewritten. 
 
 "You can't dodge the law of compensation. For 
 what you have done, you must pay." 
 
 Sidney Prale gasped when he read that message, 
 and went back to the ground floor. 
 
 "Who left this note for me?" he demanded of the 
 clerk. 
 
 "Messenger boy." 
 
 "You don't know where he came from?" 
 
 "No, sir."
 
 SOME DISCOURTESIES 37 
 
 Prale turned away and started for the elevator 
 again. A bell hop stopped him. 
 
 "Manager would like to see you in his office, sir," 
 the boy said. "This way, sir." 
 
 Prale followed the boy, wondering what was com- 
 ing now. He found the manager to be a sort of 
 austere individual who seemed impressed with his 
 own importance. 
 
 "Mr. Prale," he said, "I regret to have to say this, 
 but I find that it cannot be avoided. When you 
 arrived yesterday, the clerk assigned you to a suite 
 on the fifth floor. He made a mistake. We had a 
 telegraphic reservation for that suite from an old 
 guest of ours, and it should have been kept for 
 him. You appreciate the situation, I feel sure." 
 
 "No objection to being moved," Prale said. "I 
 have unpacked scarcely any of my things." 
 
 "But again I regret it there isn't a vacant suite 
 
 in the house. Mr. Prale." 
 
 / 
 
 "A room, then, until you have one." 
 
 "We haven't a room. We haven't as much as a 
 cot, Mr. Prale. We cannot take care of you, I'm 
 afraid. So many regular guests, you understand, 
 and out-of-town visitors." 
 
 "Then I'll have to move, I suppose. You may 
 have the suite within two hours." 
 
 "Thank you, Mr. Prale." 
 
 Prale was angry again when he left the office of 
 the manager. It seemed that everything was con- 
 spiring against his comfort. He got a cab, drove 
 to another hotel, inspected a suite and reserved it, 
 paying a month in advance, and then went back to
 
 38 THE BRAND OF SILENCE 
 
 the big hotel on Fifth Avenue to get his baggage. 
 He paid his bill at the cashier's window, and over- 
 heard the room clerk speaking to a woman. 
 
 "Certainly, madam," the clerk was saying. "We 
 will have an excellent suite on the fifth floor within 
 half an hour. The party is just vacating it. Plenty 
 of suites on the third floor, of course, but, if you 
 want to be up higher in the building 
 
 Sidney Prale felt the blood pounding in his tem- 
 ples, felt rage welling up within him. He felt as 
 he had once in a Honduras forest when he became 
 aware that a dishonest foreman was betraying busi- 
 ness secrets. He hurried to the office of the manager, 
 but the stenographer said the manager was busy and 
 could not be seen. 
 
 Prale whirled away, going through the lobby to- 
 ward the entrance. He met Kate Gilbert face to face. 
 She did not seem to see him, though he was forced 
 to step aside to let her pass.
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 A FOE AND A FRIEND 
 
 AFTER settling himself in the other hotel, Prale 
 ate a belated luncheon. For the first time that 
 day, he looked at the newspapers. He had remem- 
 bered that a New Yorker reads the papers religiously 
 to keep up to the minute; whereas, in Honduras, it 
 was the custom for busy men to let the papers 
 accumulate and then read a week's supply at a sitting. 
 
 Aside from his name in the list of arrivals, Prale 
 found no word concerning himself, though there was 
 mention of other men who had come on the Manatee, 
 and who had no special claim to prominence. 
 
 "I don't amount to much, I guess," said Prale to 
 himself. "Don't care for publicity, anyway, but 
 they might let the world know a fellow has come 
 home." 
 
 He went for another walk that afternoon, re- 
 turned to the hotel for dinner, and decided that, in- 
 stead of going to a show that evening, he would 
 prowl around the town. 
 
 He walked up to the Park, went over to Broad- 
 way, and started down it, looking at the bright 
 lights again, making his way through the happy, 
 theater-going throngs toward Times Square. In 
 the enjoyment of the crowds he forgot, in part, the 
 discourtesies of the day, but he could not forget 
 them entirely.
 
 40 THE BRAND OF SILENCE 
 
 Why had the banker acted in such a peculiar 
 fashion? It was not like a financial institution to 
 refuse a deposit of a round million. Why had 
 Griffin refused to see him? Why had he as good 
 as been ordered out of the hotel? 
 
 "Coincidence," he told himself. "No reason on 
 earth why such things should happen unless I am 
 being taken for somebody else and that wouldn't 
 be true in the case of Griffin." 
 
 He came to a prominent hotel and went into the 
 lobby, looking in vain for some friend of the old 
 days with whom he could spend an hour or so. 
 Down in Honduras he had had his million and 
 friends, too; and here, in his old home, he had 
 nothing but his money. At this hour, down in 
 Honduras, the band would be playing in the plaza, 
 and society would be out in force. There would 
 be a soft breeze sweeping down from the hills, 
 bringing a thousand odors that could not be detected 
 in New York. Here and there guitars would be 
 tinkling, and men and maidens would be meeting in 
 the moonlight. 
 
 There would be a happy crowd at a certain club 
 he knew, at which he always had been made wel- 
 come. A man could sit out on the veranda and look 
 over the tumbling sea, and hear the ship's bells strike. 
 Sidney Prale found himself just a bit homesick for 
 Honduras. 
 
 "Got to get over it," he told himself. "No sense 
 in feeling this way. I'll have a hundred friends 
 before I've been in town a month!" 
 
 He went out upon the street, made his way down
 
 A FOE AND A FRIEND 41 
 
 it, and dropped in at another hotel. There he saw 
 Rufus Shepley sitting in an easy-chair, smoking and 
 looking at an evening paper. 
 
 Well, he knew Shepley, at least. Shepley was 
 only a steamship acquaintance, but He was a human 
 being and could talk. Prale was just a bit tired of 
 confining his conversation to waiters and cigar-store 
 clerks. 
 
 He stopped before Shepley and cleared his throat. 
 
 "Well, we meet again, Mr. Shepley!" he said. 
 
 Rufus Shepley looked up, and then sprang to 
 his feet, but his face did not light and he did not 
 extend a hand in greeting. Instead, his countenance 
 grew crimson, and he seemed to be shaking with 
 anger. 
 
 "You presume too much on a chance acquaintance, 
 sir!" Rufus Shepley thundered. "I do not wish 
 you to address me again do you understand, sir? 
 Never again either in public or private!" 
 
 "Why " Prale stammered. 
 
 "I don't want anything to do with a man of your 
 stamp!" Rufus Shepley went on. "Ten years in 
 Honduras, were you? We all know why men go 
 to Honduras and spend years there." 
 
 Shepley had raised his voice, and all in the lobby 
 could hear. Men began moving toward them, and 
 women began walking away, fearing a scene and a 
 quarrel. 
 
 Sidney Prale's face had flushed, too, and he felt 
 his anger rising again. 
 
 "I am sure I do not wish to continue the ac-
 
 42 THE BRAND OF SILENCE 
 
 quaintance if you do not, sir," he said. "I can 
 be courteous, at least." 
 
 "Some men are not entitled to courtesy," Shepley 
 roared. 
 
 "What do you mean by that?" Prale demanded. 
 
 "I mean that I don't want anything to do with 
 you, that's all! I don't want you to speak to me 
 again! I don't want anybody to know that you 
 even know me by sight!" 
 
 "See here!" Prale cried. "You can't talk to me 
 like that without giving me some explanation! You 
 can't defame me before other men ' 
 
 "Defame you?" Shepley cried. "You can't make 
 a tar brush black, sir?" 
 
 Rage was seething in Prale now. There was quite 
 a crowd around them, and others were making their 
 way forward. 
 
 "I don't pretend to know what is the matter with 
 you, and I don't much care!" he told Shepley. "If 
 your hair wasn't gray, I'd take you out on the side- 
 walk and smash your face in! Please understand 
 that!" 
 
 "Threaten me, will you?" 
 
 "I'm not threatening you. I don't fight a man 
 with one foot in the grave." 
 
 "Why you " 
 
 "And I don't care to have you address me in 
 public again, either," Sidney Prale went on. "It 
 probably would be an insult." 
 
 "Confound you, sir!" Shepley cried. 
 
 He reached forward and grasped Prale by the arm.
 
 A FOE AND A FRIEND 43 
 
 Sidney Prale put up a hand, tore the grasp loose, 
 and tossed Rufus Shepley to one side. 
 
 "Keep your paws off me!" he exclaimed. "I think 
 that you're insane, if you ask me!" 
 
 The hotel detective came hurrying up. 
 
 "You'll have to cut that out!" he said. "What's 
 the row here, anyway?" 
 
 "The place is harboring a maniac!" Prale said. 
 
 "It's harboring a crook!" Shepley cried. 
 
 Prale lurched forward and grasped him by both 
 arms, and shook him until Rufus Shepley's teeth 
 chattered. 
 
 "Another word out of you, and I'll forget that 
 your hair is gray!" Prale exclaimed, and then he 
 tossed Shepley to one side again. 
 
 "Either of you guests here?" the house detective 
 demanded. "No? Then maybe you'd both better 
 get out until you can cool off. If you want to stage 
 a scrap, go down and rent Madison Square Garden 
 and advertise in the newspapers. I wouldn't mind 
 seeing a good fight myself. But this lobby isn't 
 any prize ring. Get me?" 
 
 Sidney Prale, his face still flaming, whirled around 
 and started for the entrance, the crowd parting to 
 let him through. Rufus Shepley, fuming and fuss- 
 ing, followed him slowly. The house detective ac- 
 companied him to the door. 
 
 Prale was waiting at the curb, a Prale whose face 
 was white now because of the temper he was fighting 
 to control. He stepped close to Shepley's side. 
 
 "I don't know why you insulted me, but don't do
 
 44 THE BRAND OF SILENCE 
 
 it again!" Prale said. "I ought to settle with you 
 for what you've said already." 
 
 The house detective, who had heard, stepped for- 
 ward again, but Sidney Prale swung across the street 
 and went on his way. 
 
 He walked rapidly for a dozen blocks or more, 
 paying no attention to where he was going, until 
 his anger began to subside. 
 
 "Why, the raving maniac!" he gasped, once or 
 twice. 
 
 He didn't pretend to guess what it meant. Shepley 
 had seemed to be friendly enough when they had 
 separated aboard ship. What could have happened 
 to make the man change his mind and attitude? 
 
 "Must be some mistake!" Prale told himself. "If 
 there is any more of this, I'll have to get to the 
 bottom of it!" 
 
 He reached Madison Square, and sat down on a 
 bench to smoke and regain his composure. He 
 knew that he had a terrible temper, and that it had 
 to be controlled. A temper that flashed was all right 
 at times in the jungles of Honduras, but it was not 
 the proper thing to exhibit in the heart of New 
 York City. It might get him into serious trouble 
 with somebody. 
 
 He finished his cigar, listened to the striking 
 chimes, and lighted another smoke. A pedestrian 
 stopped beside him. 
 
 "Old Sid Prale, or I'm a liar!" he cried. 
 
 Prale looked up, and then sprang to his feet. 
 
 "Jim Farland, the sleuth!" he cried in answer.
 
 A FOE AND A FRIEND 45 
 
 "Old Jim, the holy terror to evildoers. Now I am 
 glad that I'm home!" 
 
 "When did you get in?" 
 
 "Yesterday. Sit down. Have a cigar. You're 
 the first old friend I've met!" 
 
 Detective Jim Farland sat down and lighted the 
 cigar. "You've been gone some time," he said. 
 
 "Ten years, Jim." 
 
 "Went away rather sudden, didn't you?" 
 
 "I did. I made my decision one night and sailed 
 the night following," said Prale. 
 
 "I always wondered why you went, and what be- 
 came of you. Had a good job with old Griffin, 
 didn't you?" 
 
 "The job was all right, Jim. But there was a 
 girl " 
 
 "Ah, ha!" 
 
 "And she threw me over for a fellow who had 
 some money. That made me huffy, of course. I 
 swore I'd shake the dust of New York from my 
 shoes, go to some foreign country, take with me 
 the ten thousand dollars I had saved, and turn it 
 into a million." 
 
 "And came back broke!" Farland said. 
 
 "Nothing of the sort, Jim. I came back with a 
 million." 
 
 "Great Scott! I suppose I'd better be on my way 
 then. I ain't in the habit of having millionaires 
 let me associate with 'em." 
 
 "You sit where you are, or I'll use violence!" 
 Prale told him. "I suppose you are still on the
 
 46 THE BRAND OF SILENCE 
 
 force? Still fussing around down in the financial 
 district watching for swindlers?" 
 
 "I left the force three years ago," Jim Farland 
 replied. "Couldn't seem to get ahead. Too honest, 
 maybe or too ignorant. I'm in a sort of private 
 detective business now got an office up the street. 
 Doing fairly well, too lots of old friends give me 
 work. If you have anything in my line ' : 
 
 "If I have, you'll get a job," said Prale. 
 
 "Let me slip you a card," said Farland. "You 
 never know when you may need a detective. So 
 you came back with a million, eh?" 
 
 "And ran into a mess," Prale added. 
 
 "I can't imagine a man with a million running 
 into much of a mess," Farland said. 
 
 "That's all you know about it. I may need your 
 services sooner than you think. There is a sort of 
 jinx working on me, it appears." 
 
 "Spill it!" Jim Farland said. 
 
 Sidney Prale did. He related what had happened 
 at the bank, at the hotel, in Griffin's office, and told 
 of the scene with Rufus Shepley. 
 
 "Funny!" Farland said, when he had finished. "I 
 know old Rufus Shepley, and as a general thing 
 he ain't a maniac. Something behind all this, Sid." 
 
 "Yes; but what on earth could it be?" 
 
 "That's the question. If anything else happens, 
 and you need help, just let me know." 
 
 "I'll do that, surely," said Prale. "And I'm glad 
 that I've got one friend left in town." 
 
 "Always have one as long as I'm here," Jim Far-
 
 A FOE AND A FRIEND 47 
 
 land assured him. "And it ain't because of your 
 million, either. It's true about the million?" 
 
 "Absolutely!" 
 
 "Gee! That's more than old Griffin himself has 
 in cash, anyway," Farland declared. "Maybe it's a 
 good thing that girl turned you down. You'd prob- 
 ably be a clerk at a few thousand a year, if she 
 hadn't. How'd you make the coin?" 
 
 "Mines and fruit and water power and logs," said 
 Prale. 
 
 "Sounds simple enough. When the detective busi- 
 ness goes on the blink, I may take a turn at it 
 myself." 
 
 "If you ever need money, Jim, call on me. If 
 you want to engage bigger offices, hire operatives, 
 branch out " 
 
 "Stop it!" Farland cried. "I want nothing of the 
 kind. I'm a peculiar sort of duck don't care about 
 being rich at all. I just want to be sure I'll have a 
 good living for myself and the wife and kids, and 
 have a few friends, and be able to look every man 
 in town straight in the eye. I'd rather work for a 
 friend for nothing than do work I don't like for 
 ten thousand an hour." 
 
 "I believe you!" Prale said.
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 THE COUSIN 
 
 AN hour later, having parted with Detective Jim 
 Farland, Sidney Prale walked slowly up Fifth 
 Avenue, determined to go to his hotel suite and 
 rest for the remainder of the evening. His con- 
 versation and short visit with Farland had put him 
 in a better humor. There was no mistaking the 
 quality of Farland's friendship. He and Prale had 
 been firm friends ten years before, when Farland 
 was on duty in the financial district, and they had 
 made it a point at that time to eat luncheon together 
 when Farland's duties permitted. 
 
 New York seemed a better place, even with one 
 friend among several million persons. So Prale 
 swung his stick jauntily, and hummed the Spanish 
 love song again, and told himself that Rufus Shepley 
 and Kate Gilbert, old Griffin and the hotel manager 
 and the rest of the motley crew that had made the 
 day miserable for him amounted to nothing in the 
 broader scheme of things, and were not to be taken 
 seriously. 
 
 He came to a block where there were few pedes- 
 trians, where the great shops had their lights out 
 and their night curtains up. He heard steps behind 
 him, and presently a soft voice. 
 
 "Sid! Sid!"
 
 THE COUSIN 49 
 
 Sidney Prale whirled around, alert and on guard, 
 for he did not recognize the voice. A medium-sized 
 man stood before him, a man of about his own age, 
 who had a furtive manner and wore a beard. 
 
 "Don't you know me, Sid?" 
 
 "Can't say that I do!" 
 
 "Why, I'm your cousin, George Lerton. I'm the 
 only relative you've got in the world, unless you 
 got married while you were away." 
 
 Prale stepped aside so that the nearest light flashed 
 on the face of the man before him. 
 
 "Well, if it isn't!" he said. "Didn't recognize you 
 at first. How long have you been wearing the alfalfa 
 on your face?" 
 
 "Two or three years," George Lerton told him, 
 grinning a bit. "I saw your name in the passenger 
 list, Sid, and wanted to see you. I found out where 
 you are stopping " 
 
 "Why didn't you come to the hotel, then, or leave 
 a note?" Prale asked. "Come on up now." 
 
 "I I wanted to talk to you " 
 
 "And I want to talk to you. What are you doing 
 for yourself, George? Still working in a broker's 
 office?" 
 
 "Oh, I've got an office of my own now." 
 
 "Getting along all right?" 
 
 "Fairly well," Lerton said. "Business has been 
 pretty good the last year." 
 
 "Maybe you can dig up a few good investments 
 for me, then," Prale said. "I've got some coin now." 
 
 "I understand that you're worth a million, Sid."
 
 50 THE BRAND OF SILENCE 
 
 "Yes, I've made my pile, and came back to New 
 York to enjoy it. But come along to the hotel." 
 
 "I'd I'd rather not." 
 
 "Why not? We've got to talk over old times and 
 find out about each other. We're cousins, you know." 
 
 The truth of the matter was that Sidney Prale 
 never had thought very much of his cousin. Ten 
 years before they had worked side by side for 
 Griffin, the broker. There was something furtive and 
 shifty about George Lerton, but he never had pre- 
 sumed on his relationship, at least. He and Sidney 
 Prale had been courteous to each other, but never 
 had been warm friends. 
 
 They came from different branches of the family. 
 Lerton had some traits of character that Prale did 
 not admire, but he always told himself that perhaps 
 he was prejudiced. They had seen a deal of each 
 other in a social way in the old days. 
 
 "Let us just talk as we walk along," Lerton now 
 said. 
 
 "All right, if you have an engagement," Prale re- 
 plied. "We can get together later, I suppose. How 
 have the years been using you? Married?" 
 
 "I was I am a widower." 
 
 "Sorry," said Prale. "Children?" 
 
 "No not any children. I I married Mary 
 Slade." 
 
 "What?" Prale cried. 
 
 He stopped, aghast. Mary Slade had been the girl 
 who had turned him down for a man with money 
 and that man had not been George Lerton, who did 
 not have as much as five thousand at that time.
 
 THE COUSIN 51 
 
 "It it's a peculiar story," Lerton said. "You 
 went away so quick after you quarreled with her. 
 And that other man she threw him over, soon. 
 She couldn't endure him, even with all his money. 
 She regretted her quarrel with you. I'm quite sure 
 she wanted you for a time. I got to taking her 
 about. You didn't write, and she was too proud to 
 look you up, and so after a time " 
 
 "You married her," said Prale. 
 
 "About three years after you went away, Sid. 
 She died after we had been married a year." 
 
 "But she always wanted money, and I had as 
 much as you." 
 
 "I made a strike soon after you left, Sid. I 
 plunged with my five thousand, and turned it into 
 a hundred thousand inside four months. I kept on, 
 and got more. I was worth almost half a million 
 when we were married." 
 
 "I see. Well, there are no hard feelings, George. 
 She was a good woman, in a way, and I'm sorry 
 you lost her. I suppose we'll have to get together, 
 for old time's sake." 
 
 "Are you going to stay here long, Sid?'* 
 
 "Long? I've sold out all my Honduras holdings, 
 and I'm here to spend the rest of my days. I've 
 come home for good, George. The United States 
 is plenty good enough for me. I'm going to be a 
 civilized gentleman from now on." 
 
 "You you're not going back?" 
 
 "Why should I? I brought that million with 
 me. I left nothing in Honduras except a few friends.
 
 52 THE BRAND OF SILENCE 
 
 I suppose I'll run down there some day and see them, 
 but this is going to be home, you can bet." 
 
 "Don't do it, Sid!" Lerton exclaimed. 
 
 "Don't do what?" 
 
 "Don't stay here, Sid. Get out as quick as you 
 can! Go back to Honduras anywhere but don't 
 stay in New York." 
 
 "Why shouldn't 1? What on earth is the matter 
 with you? Are you insane?" 
 
 "I I can't tell you, Sid. But you are in danger 
 if you don't leave New York. I can tell you that 
 much. That's why I didn't call at the hotel; I'm 
 afraid. Sid, I'm afraid to have anybody see me 
 talking to you. If you came to my office, I'd refuse 
 to see you " 
 
 "Why?" demanded Sidney Prale, in a stern voice. 
 
 "I I can't explain, Sid." 
 
 "I've endured a lot of nonsense to-day, and I'm 
 not going to endure any more!" Prale said. "You're 
 going to open your mouth and tell me what you 
 mean, if I have to manhandle you." 
 
 "You can beat me until I'm unconscious, Sid, but 
 you can't make me talk!" Lerton told him. 
 
 "But what does it all mean?" 
 
 "You'd better go away, Sid; you'd better get out 
 of the country and stay out!" 
 
 "No reason why I should. I never gave up my 
 citizenship; I haven't done anything wrong. I'm 
 back in my old home, and I fail to see why I 
 shouldn't remain here if that is my wish." 
 
 "But you're in danger!"
 
 THE COUSIN 53 
 
 "In danger from what?" Sidney Prale cried. 
 
 "You have powerful enemies, Sid." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 "I I don't know, exactly. But you have power- 
 ful enemies. Some of my best customers have in- 
 formed me that they are through doing business with 
 me if I have anything to do with you. They told me 
 that before you had been back three hours." 
 
 "Powerful enemies? Why? Business enemies?" 
 
 "I I don't know." 
 
 "Um! So that is why the bank refused my de- 
 posit, why I was turned out of a hotel, and why 
 old Rufus Shepley raised such a row with me! 
 Powerful enemies, have I? But there isn't sense in 
 it! I haven't done anything to make powerful ene- 
 mies, or any other kind. I'm about fed up with 
 this stuff!" 
 
 "Go away, Sid. You've got money you can live 
 anywhere !" 
 
 "You bet I can! And I'm going to live in New 
 York!" 
 
 "Don't try it, Sid!" 
 
 Prale whirled and faced him. "You know more 
 than you're telling!" he accused. "You open your 
 face and talk! I never did have any too much love 
 for you, and you can wager that I'm not going to 
 let you frighten me into running away from New 
 York! Talk!" 
 
 "I haven't anything more to say, Sid!" 
 
 "If I have to choke it out of you right here " 
 
 "You'd better not. It would give your enemies 
 a chance!"
 
 54 THE BRAND OF SILENCE 
 
 "Lerton, I've fought the Honduras jungles! I've 
 fought half -savage men and treacherous employees, 
 snakes and fever, financial sharks and common ad- 
 venturers. I didn't come back to New York to 
 back down in front of a man like you or half a 
 hundred like you. Maybe that is strong talk 
 but you have it coming! Give my enemies a chance? 
 I'll give them all the chance they want. Maybe 
 they'll come into the open, then, and let me see whom 
 I'm fighting! I don't like foes that fight from the 
 dark!" 
 
 "You'd better go away, Sid. I'm talking for your 
 own good!" 
 
 "For my good? For yours, you mean! Afraid 
 you'll lose a few customers and a few dollars, by 
 standing by your cousin, are you? Why don't you 
 be a man, tell me what you know, help me to fight! 
 Bah! I'm disgusted with you!" 
 
 He hurled George Lerton away from him, curled 
 his lips in scorn of the man. 
 
 "I've tried to warn you," Lerton whimpered. 
 
 "I don't understand this and I'm sure you could 
 explain a lot, if you would. Perhaps I've got more 
 dollars than the customers you are so afraid of 
 losing. Suppose I hand my million to you for in- 
 vestment. Will you talk, then?" 
 
 "I I wouldn't dare touch it," Lerton whimpered. 
 
 Prale looked at him closely. "It must be some- 
 thing pretty bad to make you toss aside the chance 
 to handle a million in investments," he said. "I 
 know you, George! You'd sell your soul for money! 
 You got anything more to say to me about this?"
 
 THE COUSIN 55 
 
 "I I dare not say anything more." 
 
 "Very well. If you are afraid to be seen in my 
 presence, kindly keep away from me hereafter and 
 don't worry about me looking you up at your office. 
 I'll not take the trouble!" 
 
 Sidney Prale said nothing more ; he whirled around 
 and walked rapidly up the Avenue, enraged, wonder- 
 ing what it all meant, determined to find out as soon 
 as possible. 
 
 Lerton ran after him. 
 
 "Won't you go away, Sid?" he whimpered. 
 
 "No. I'll stay here, and if I have enemies I'll 
 fight them!" Prale told him. "Why are you so 
 eager to have me run away?" 
 
 "I don't want to see you in trouble, Sid/* 
 
 "That's peculiar. In the old days you used to 
 gloat whenever I got in trouble. You seem to have 
 a wonderful and sudden regard for my welfare, and 
 I can't explain it to myself." 
 
 Once more, Prale whirled around and started up 
 the Avenue. His brain was in a tumult. What did 
 George Lerton know that he refused to tell? Why 
 should there be powerful enemies? He knew of 
 no reason in the world. 
 
 "He's dead eager to get me out of town," Prale 
 mused. "There's something behind it, all right."
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 MURK AND MURDER 
 
 INSTINCT, intuition, or some similar faculty 
 * caused Prale to turn off the Avenue eastward to- 
 ward the river. He was not angry now. His mind 
 was in action. He had convinced himself that there 
 was something behind all this, and he was eager for 
 the solution. 
 
 Those mysterious warnings had begun on board 
 ship, he remembered. The piece of paper Kate 
 Gilbert had dropped, and which he had picked up, 
 had writing similar to the messages he had received. 
 He would have to engage Jim Farland, he told 
 himself, and learn a few things concerning Miss Kate 
 Gilbert. 
 
 Had the journey because of ill health been a 
 subterfuge? Had Kate Gilbert gone to Honduras 
 to watch him? If she had, what was the reason 
 for it? 
 
 "It's enough to make a man a maniac," Prale 
 mused. "And that Shepley man! He was all right 
 when we parted on the ship. Somebody said some- 
 thing to him about me after he landed. He treated 
 me as if I had been a skunk." 
 
 Then he thought of George Lerton, his cousin. 
 He couldn't quite make up his mind about Lerton. 
 The man seemed frenzied in his eagerness to get
 
 MURK AND MURDER 57 
 
 Prale to leave New York. And Prale knew that 
 it was not because of an overwhelming love George 
 Lerton had for him, not anxiety lest ill fortune 
 should come to Sidney Prale. 
 
 He would have to think it out, he told himself. 
 At least, he knew that he had foes working against 
 him, and could be on guard continually. Down in 
 Honduras he had won a reputation as a fighter, 
 and a fight was a fight in any clime, he knew; there 
 might be a difference in the rules here and there, 
 but the same qualities decided the winner. 
 
 He continued walking down the street toward the 
 river. In Honduras he had become accustomed to 
 walking up and down the beach and looking at the 
 water whenever he wanted to think and solve some 
 problem, and it probably was habit that sent him 
 to the water front now. 
 
 He tossed away the butt of his cigar and did not 
 light another at the moment. For a time he stood 
 looking out at the black water, at the craft plying 
 back and forth, their lights flashing. He stepped 
 upon a little dock and started walking its length. 
 After a time he came near the end of it without 
 having encountered a watchman, and sat down on 
 a box in a dark, secluded corner. 
 
 There, his back braced against the building and 
 the building shielding him from the cold wind that 
 came up from the distant sea, Sidney Prale sat and 
 tried to think it out. 
 
 One thing made a comfortable thought he had 
 money with which to fight. Either he was the vic- 
 tim of some injustice, or a grave mistake was being
 
 58 THE BRAND OF SILENCE 
 
 made. He wished that he had forced George Lerton 
 to tell him more, and he decided that he would do 
 so if they met again. He might even hunt him out 
 and force him to speak. Sidney Prale thought noth- 
 ing of handling a man like Lerton. 
 
 He heard steps on the dock and remained silent 
 in the darkness, thinking that possibly some watch- 
 man was making the rounds. If he was discovered, 
 he would say that he had been looking at the river, 
 give the watchman his card and a tip, and leave. 
 
 The steps came nearer and Prale could make out 
 the form of a man slipping along the dock's edge 
 in a furtive manner. There was not light enough 
 for Prale to see his features. He was walking bent 
 over, a short, heavy-set man who did not wear an 
 overcoat. 
 
 Prale watched as the man passed within six feet 
 of him and went to the edge of the dock. There 
 he stood, outlined against the sky, looking down at 
 the water. Prale imagined that he heard something 
 like a sob, and gave closer attention. Then he saw 
 the man take off his coat and drop it behind him, 
 remove his cap and place it on the coat, and look 
 down at the water again. 
 
 And then Sidney Prale sprang straight forward, 
 and grasped the body of the other as it was in 
 mid-air. 
 
 "No, you don't!" Prale exclaimed. 
 
 He found immediately that he had a fight on 
 his hands. The other whirled and began kicking 
 and striking. Sidney Prale hurled him backward, 
 rushed, caught him up again in a better hold, threw
 
 MURK AND MURDER 59 
 
 him back against the building, and held him there, 
 breathless and panting. 
 
 "Another smash out of you, and I'll drop you 
 into the river myself!" Prale said. "Suppose you 
 take time to get your breath now." 
 
 "I I thought you was a cop." 
 
 "Afraid of the cops?" 
 
 "It's against the law to to try to commit suicide." 
 
 "So I understand," said Prale. "Well, I am not 
 a cop. Trying to drown yourself, were you? Why?" 
 
 "Why not?" the other asked. "I'm done with 
 livin'." 
 
 "Not just yet, but you would have been if I 
 hadn't been sitting here." 
 
 "I've knocked all over the world and made a 
 few mistakes," said the derelict. "Oh, nothin' that 
 would get me in trouble with the cops! But I 
 just found out that I'm clutterin' up the earth and 
 don't amount to anything. I'm sick of half starvin' 
 to death, and workin' like a dog when I get the 
 chance just to get enough to keep a few old clothes 
 hung on me." 
 
 "Disgusted generally with your lot?" Prale asked. 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 "Friends or relatives ?" 
 
 "Not any." 
 
 "What's your name?" Prale asked. 
 
 "You mean my real name? I don't remember. 
 It's been so long since I've used it, and I've used 
 so many others since that I don't know. What's 
 the difference ?" 
 
 "I'll call you Murk," said Prale. "That expresses
 
 60 THE BRAND OF SILENCE 
 
 the dark river, the deed you were about to do, and 
 the evident state of your feelings." 
 
 "It's as good as any, I suppose." 
 
 "What's your particular grievance against the 
 world in general?" 
 
 "It ain't anything in particular," said Murk. "It's 
 just general." 
 
 "I see. A drifter, are you?" 
 
 "I reckon I am." 
 
 "Sore at existence, eh?" 
 
 "Well, what's the use of livin'?" Murk demanded. 
 "There ain't a man, woman or child in the world 
 that gives a whoop what becomes of me. I'm just 
 in the way to be kicked around." 
 
 "Maybe you haven't found your proper place in 
 the scheme of things." 
 
 "I've sure done some travelin* lookin' for it, 
 boss, but maybe I ain't found it, as you say. I 
 sure ain't found any place that looks like it needed 
 me bad." 
 
 "Hard to make a living?" 
 
 "Oh, I get along. But, what's the use?" Murk 
 wanted to know. "I ain't got anybody I get lone- 
 some lots of times. If I had money, it might be 
 different." 
 
 "I'm not so sure about that," said Prale, smiling 
 a bit. "I've got a million dollars, and, as far as I 
 know right this minute, I have just one friend in 
 New York." 
 
 "If I had a million dollars I wouldn't care whether 
 I had a friend or not," Murk said. 
 
 "You can be just as lonesome with a million dol-
 
 MURK AND MURDER 61 
 
 lars as you can without a cent," Prale told him. "I 
 was sitting down here because I was lonesome, and 
 because there are some enemies working at me, and 
 I don't know who they are or why they want to 
 trouble me." 
 
 "Well, let's jump In the drink together," Murk 
 said. 
 
 "Why not fight it out?" asked Sidney Prale. 
 
 "Mister, I've been fightin' for years, and it don't 
 get me anything. It just tires me out that's all. 
 The next world can't be any worse than this." 
 
 "Are you a fighter, or a quitter?" 
 
 "Nobody ever called me a quitter." 
 
 "But you were trying to be a few minutes ago. 
 You were going to quit like a- yellow dog!" Prale 
 told him. "You were going to throw up the sponge 
 and give the devil a laugh." 
 
 "That's between me and the devil nobody else 
 would care." 
 
 "If you had a friend, an influential friend, and 
 didn't have to keep up a continual fight to hold body 
 and soul together, could you manage to face the 
 world a little longer?" 
 
 "I reckon I could." 
 
 "How old are you?" 
 
 "Thirty-five," said Murk. 
 
 "Old enough to have some sense. I am three 
 years older. I'm almost as lonesome as you are. 
 Why not join forces, Murk?" 
 
 "Sir?" 
 
 "If I showed you a corner where you would fit
 
 62 THE BRAND OF SILENCE 
 
 in, would you be loyal? Would you stand by me, 
 help me fight if it was necessary, and all that?" 
 
 "You just try me that's all." 
 
 "Very well, Murk, I'm going to trust you. I told 
 you the truth when I said I had a million dollars. I 
 have but one friend I can depend upon, and I have 
 enemies. I like to fight, Murk, but I like to have 
 a good pal at my back when I do." 
 
 "That's me, too, sir; but I ain't ever had the pal." 
 
 "You've got one now, Murk. You'd be dead 
 now, but for me. So you must be my man, under- 
 stand?" 
 
 "I don't quite getcha." 
 
 "You're under my orders from now on, Murk. 
 We'll have a nice row, standing back to back per- 
 haps. I'll take you on as a sort of valet and body- 
 guard. You'll have good clothes and a home and 
 plenty to eat and a bit of money to spend. I'll 
 expect you to be loyal. If I find that you are not 
 well, Murk, I got back yesterday from Central 
 America. I got my million down there, by fighting 
 for it, and there were times when I had to handle 
 men roughly. I can read men, Murk. Can you 
 imagine what I'd do to a man who double crossed 
 me?" 
 
 "I getcha now! You needn't be afraid I'll double 
 cross you. I don't think this is real." 
 
 "It's real, Murk, if we strike a bargain. Do we?" 
 
 "I've got everything to win and nothin' to lose 
 so we do!" Murk said. 
 
 "Fair enough. Now we'll get off this dock. 
 Pick up your cap and coat."
 
 MURK AND MURDER 63 
 
 Murk picked them up and put them on, and 
 then he followed at Prale's heels until they were on 
 the street and beneath the nearest light. There they 
 stopped and looked each other over. 
 
 Murk was short, but he was built for strength. 
 Prale could tell at a glance that the man, even 
 poorly nourished as he was, had muscles that could 
 be depended on. Prale liked the look around Murk's 
 eyes, too. Murk was a dog man, the sort that 
 proves faithful to the end if treated right. 
 
 "Well, how do you like me?" Prale asked. 
 
 "You look good to me, sir." 
 
 "My name is Sidney Prale." 
 
 "Yes, Mr. Prale." 
 
 "You understand our little deal thoroughly?" 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 "Come along, then. Here is a cigar light up!" 
 
 Murk lighted the cigar, and Prale lighted another, 
 and they went rapidly up the street to Fifth Avenue. 
 Prale signaled a passing taxicab, and they got in. 
 When the cab stopped, it was in a district where 
 some cheap clothing stores remain open until almost 
 midnight. 
 
 Half an hour later they emerged again. Murk 
 was dressed in a suit which was somber in tone, and 
 which was not at all a bad fit. He was dressed 
 in new clothing from the skin out. Prale took him 
 to a barber shop, and waited until the barber gave 
 Murk a hair cut and a shave. 
 
 "Gosh!" Murk said, when he looked at himself 
 in the glass. "This can't be me!"
 
 64 THE BRAND OF SILENCE 
 
 "It is, however," Prale assured him. "Now, we'll 
 go home, Murk, and get settled." 
 
 "Where is home?" 
 
 Prale named the hotel. 
 
 "I'd get thrown out on my bean if I ever stuck 
 my nose in the kitchen door," Murk said. 
 
 "You're not going into the kitchen, Murk. You're 
 going to be registered as my valet and bodyguard, 
 and you're going up in the elevator with me. Kindly 
 remember, Murk, that you are the personal servant 
 of Mr. Sidney Prale." 
 
 "Yes, sir. 
 
 "And your boss has a million dollars and nobody 
 knows how many secret enemies. Those things give 
 you a standing, Murk. When we are alone, of 
 course, you'll be a sort of pal. I never had a 
 valet before and I couldn't stand a regular one. 
 Instead of being a valet, when we are alone, I 
 want you to be a regular fellow." 
 
 "I getcha, Mr. Prale." 
 
 "Off we go, then." 
 
 They arrived at the hotel, and Prale registered 
 Murk as his valet and took him up to the suite. 
 
 "You bunk in there, Murk," Prale said, pointing 
 to another room. "Take a bath and go to bed 
 and get some rest. If you are inclined to throw 
 me down, you'll find some money and jewelry in 
 the top drawer of the dresser. Rob me and sneak 
 out during the night, if you want to. Cut my throat, 
 if it's necessary." 
 
 "You needn't be afraid, sir you can trust me!" 
 
 "I do!" said Sidney Prale.
 
 MURK AND MURDER 65 
 
 Prale slept well that night. When he awoke in 
 the morning, Murk was dressed and sitting by the 
 window. He drew Prale's bath without being told, 
 and then stood around as if waiting to be of service. 
 
 "I I found this slipped under your door, sir," he 
 said, after a time. 
 
 "What is it, Murk?" 
 
 "A piece of paper with writing on it, sir." 
 
 "More news from the enemy, I suppose. What 
 does it say?" 
 
 "It says as how a man's sin always finds him out." 
 
 "That's interesting, isn't it? Do you think I am 
 a sinner of some sort, Murk?" 
 
 "I don't care if you are, sir!" 
 
 "Murk! You needn't get excited about it. Put 
 the paper in the lower drawer of the dresser; I'm 
 making a collection of them," Prale said. He went 
 back into the other room and continued dressing. 
 "Go to the telephone and order breakfast served 
 to us here, Murk," he directed. 
 
 "What shall I order, sir?" 
 
 "Order plenty of whatever you like, and tell them 
 to make it double," said Prale. 
 
 Murk grinned and gave a proper order. Prale 
 was dressed by the time the breakfast was served. 
 He and Murk made a hearty meal. 
 
 And then Prale lighted his morning cigar and 
 began reading the newspapers. Murk went around 
 the suite, straightening things and trying to be of 
 service. He looked at Sidney Prale often; it was 
 plain to be seen that Prale was Murk's kind of man.
 
 66 THE BRAND OF SILENCE 
 
 There came a knock at the door. 
 
 "See who it is, Murk," Sidney Prale said. 
 
 He did not even look up from the paper he was 
 reading. He supposed it was some hotel employee. 
 Murk stalked across to the door and threw it open. 
 Two men stood there. Murk flinched when he saw 
 them. He did not know either of them, but he knew 
 them immediately for what they were. Murk was a 
 man of experience. 
 
 "Mr. Prale in?" one of them asked. 
 
 "Yes, sir. 
 
 Without asking permission, the two men stepped 
 inside, and one of them closed the door. Prale 
 dropped the newspaper and turned around to face 
 them. 
 
 "Are you Sidney Prale?" one of them asked. 
 
 "I am." 
 
 "You are under arrest, Mr. Prale." 
 
 "I beg your pardon?" 
 
 "Under arrest," I said. "You know your rights, 
 perhaps, so you need not talk unless you wish to 
 do so." 
 
 "You are officers?" 
 
 They showed their shields. 
 
 "Straight from headquarters," one of them replied. 
 "We want to take a look around your room while 
 we are here." 
 
 "Suppose," said Sidney Prale, "that you tell me, 
 first, why I am under arrest? Of what crime am 
 I accused?" 
 
 "You are charged with murder."
 
 MURK AND MURDER 67 
 
 "Murder? What crazy joke is this?" Prale cried. 
 "And what particular person am I accused of mur- 
 dering?" 
 
 "You are charged with the murder of Mr. Rufus 
 Shepley," the detective replied.
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 EVIDENCE 
 
 MANY times in his life, Sidney Prale had been 
 greatly surprised, astonished, shocked. But 
 never had he experienced such a feeling as he did 
 at this bald announcement of a police detective. 
 
 The statement was like a blow between the eyes. 
 Prale stared at the two detectives for an instant, 
 his face flushed, and then he began to laugh. 
 
 "It isn't a laughing matter, Mr. Prale," one of the 
 detectives told him. 
 
 "Pardon me, but it is so utterly preposterous," 
 Prale replied. "I fail to see how I can be accused 
 of such a crime. I am not a cutthroat, and Rufus 
 Shepley was a man I met on shipboard casually, 
 and have seen him only once since." 
 
 "You can do your talking at headquarters, Mr. 
 Prale," the officer said. "I'll have to ask you to 
 come along with us. I'll leave my partner here to 
 look through your rooms." 
 
 "The sooner I get to headquarters, the sooner this 
 thing will be straightened out," Prale said. "Murk, 
 you will remain here in the rooms until you hear 
 from me. Let the officer look at anything he wishes 
 to inspect." 
 
 "Yes, sir," said Murk, glaring at the two detec- 
 tives.
 
 EVIDENCE 69 
 
 Prale faced the detective who had been speaking 
 to him. 
 
 "Be with you as soon as I get my hat and coat," 
 he said. "It'll not be necessary, I hope, to put hand- 
 cuffs on me." 
 
 "We can go to headquarters in a taxi, and I 
 guess I can handle you if you try any tricks," the 
 detective replied. 
 
 "There are going to be no tricks tried," Prale said. 
 
 "Nevertheless, I think I'll keep a close eye on you." 
 
 "Do so, by all means!" Prale retorted. 
 
 "Ain't there anything I can do, sir?" Murk asked. 
 
 "Nothing except to remain in the rooms until you 
 hear from me," Prale told him. "If I should er 
 be detained, I'll probably send for you." 
 
 "Very well, sir." 
 
 One of the detectives left the suite with Prale and 
 walked down the hall to the elevator. The second 
 officer remained behind to go through Prale's things 
 in an effort to find evidence. 
 
 Prale said nothing regarding the crime as they 
 journeyed in the taxicab to police headquarters. His 
 mind was busy, though. This appeared to be a cul- 
 mination of the annoyances to which he had been 
 subjected. 
 
 At headquarters he was ushered into a room 
 where a captain of detectives awaited him. 
 
 "Don't have to talk unless you want to, Mr. 
 Prale, but it probably will be better for you to do so, 
 and have an end of it," the captain said. "Why did 
 you kill Rufus Shepley?" 
 
 "That's a fool question. I didn't kill him. I had
 
 70 THE BRAND OF SILENCE 
 
 no idea he was dead until the officer arrested me for 
 his murder. I scarcely know the man, captain. I 
 made his acquaintance aboard a ship coming from 
 Central America, and I met him but once after leav- 
 ing the ship. He told me his business and gave me his 
 card, and that is all. I'm ready to answer any ques- 
 tions you may ask. This is some terrible mistake. I 
 want to talk about it have an end of it, as you say." 
 
 "Very well, Prale," the captain said. 
 
 "Mr. Prale, if you please. I have not been con- 
 victed yet and am entitled to some courtesy, it seems 
 to me.'' 
 
 "All right, if you're going to be nasty about it," 
 the captain said. "But you won't gain anything by 
 taking a high-and-mighty attitude with me." 
 
 "I simply object to being addressed in the tone 
 you used," Prale replied. "I am no crook. Let's 
 get down to business. Ask me any questions you 
 like, and I'd like to ask a few myself." 
 
 "That is fair enough," the captain said, a shrewd 
 expression coming into his face. 
 
 "Suppose you take it for granted, for a few min- 
 utes, that I am innocent, and tell me when Rufus 
 Shepley was killed, and where, and just how." 
 
 "Very well, Mr. Prale. A hotel attendant found 
 the body at an early hour this morning. It was in 
 Mr. Shepley's room. The man was fully dressed. 
 The physicians say that he was killed about eleven 
 o'clock last night." 
 
 "I understand; go on, please." 
 
 "He had been stabbed through the heart," said the 
 captain. "Death had been instantaneous."
 
 EVIDENCE 71 
 
 "But why suspect me of the crime?" Prale asked. 
 
 "This was found beside the body," the captain 
 replied. 
 
 From the desk before him he picked up a fountain 
 pen. It was an elaborate pen, chased with gold, and 
 on one side of it was a tiny gold plate, upon which 
 Prale's name had been engraved. 
 
 "You recognize it?" the captain asked. 
 
 "Certainly; it is mine." 
 
 "Oh, you admit that, do you?" 
 
 "Naturally. But I fail to see how it came to be 
 beside the body of Rufus Shepley." 
 
 "A man who has committed a murder generally is 
 in a hurry to get away," said the captain. "It is easy 
 to drop a fountain pen from a pocket, especially if a 
 man is bending over." 
 
 "I don't even know where Shepley's rooms were 
 located," Prale said. "I didn't know the pen was 
 missing until this minute " 
 
 "Possibly not," replied the captain of detectives. 
 
 "And I am quite sure I do not know how it came 
 to be beside the body, but of one thing I am certain 
 I did not drop it there." 
 
 "Naturally, you would say that." 
 
 "And where is the motive?" Prale demanded. 
 "Suppose you tell me what you have against me, and 
 then I'll proceed to tear your shabby evidence to 
 pieces." 
 
 "We have this particular case so well in hand that 
 I can afford to do that," the captain said. "Attend 
 me closely and you'll see the futility of denying your 
 guilt."
 
 72 THE BRAND OF SILENCE 
 
 "I am waiting to hear the evidence," Prale said. 
 
 "Very well. In the first place, you have recently 
 spent some years in Central America." 
 
 "Ten years in Honduras," said Prale. 
 
 "You made a fortune down there. We have com- 
 municated with the authorities there and have learned 
 many things about you. We have learned that you 
 have a hot temper and know how to handle men. 
 You have been known to beat natives terribly 
 
 "Rot! I was kinder than nine out of ten men of 
 affairs. I have punished a few natives caught steal- 
 ing, for instance." 
 
 "Recently, Mr. Prale, you cashed in on all your 
 properties down there and announced that you were 
 about to leave the country." 
 
 "That is correct," said Prale. "I made the million 
 I went down there to make. Honduras is all right in 
 some ways, but a man likes to live with his own 
 kind. My home was in New York, and so, naturally, 
 I decided to return here." 
 
 "Did you not tell some of your friends and ac- 
 quaintances, before you left, that you were returning 
 to New York for a certain purpose." 
 
 "I suppose that I did. My purpose was no secret. 
 I had my pile and wanted to enjoy life a bit and per- 
 haps I wanted to show off a bit, .too. That was only 
 natural, I suppose. I am proud of my success." 
 
 "Did you not hint that the purpose was something 
 sinister that you were going to have revenge, or 
 something like that?" 
 
 "Certainly not." 
 
 "Very well; let us get on," said the captain of de-
 
 EVIDENCE 73 
 
 tectives. "You say that you first met Rufus Shepley 
 aboard the Manatee?" 
 
 "Never saw him in my life until I met him in the 
 smoking room on the ship, and never had heard his 
 name before." 
 
 "That is peculiar. Mr. Shepley was a man of 
 large affairs." 
 
 "But I had been in Honduras for ten years, out 
 of touch with men of affairs in the United States," 
 Prale replied. "I did the most of my business with 
 firms in South America." 
 
 "Just how did you happen to meet Mr. Shepley?" 
 
 "In the smoking room. We spoke, as passengers 
 are liable to speak to each other on a boat or a train. 
 We talked of ordinary things and exchanged cards." 
 
 "Did you happen to play cards?" 
 
 "One evening, for a short time. But the game 
 did not amount to anything, and we quit early. Are 
 you trying to insinuate that I killed the man as the 
 outcome of a gambling quarrel?" 
 
 "Nothing of the sort," said the captain, "Let us 
 get on. You had no trouble with Mr. Shepley on the 
 ship no trouble of any sort?" 
 
 "Not the slightest. We parted good friends just 
 before the ship docked. I went to my stateroom for 
 my things and I suppose that he did the same." 
 
 "When did you see him next?" the captain asked. 
 
 "Last evening, in the lobby of a hotel on Broad- 
 way," said Prale. 
 
 "What happened then?" 
 
 "Ah, I see where you are trying to get the motive," 
 Prale said. "But I think that you will agree with
 
 74 THE BRAND OF SILENCE 
 
 me, before we are done, that it is a slim thing upon 
 which to hang a serious charge of murder. I saw 
 Mr. Shepley sitting in the lobby and went up and 
 spoke to him. We had been friendly on the ship, I 
 was feeling lonesome, and was glad to find some- 
 body with whom I could talk. Besides, he had ex- 
 pressed a desire to see me again." 
 
 "Well, what happened?" 
 
 "Something I am at a loss to understand. He be- 
 rated me for daring to address him. He acted like 
 a maniac. I rebuked him for his manner, and the 
 hotel detective advised us to leave the place until we 
 cooled off, or something like that." 
 
 "Who left first?" the captain asked. 
 
 "I did. I was angry because there was a crowd 
 around and I hated the scene that had been caused. 
 I went through the main entrance and stepped to the 
 curb." 
 
 "Shepley follow you?" 
 
 "Almost immediately." 
 
 "And you went up to him and threatened him, 
 didn't you?" 
 
 Prale thought a moment. "I told him that I 
 didn't know why he had insulted me, but I didn't 
 want him to do it again." 
 
 "What else?" the captain demanded. 
 
 "I believe I said that I ought to settle with him 
 for what he had said already." 
 
 "And then " 
 
 "And then I went on down the street. The hotel 
 detective, I think, heard me speak to Mr. Shepley." 
 
 "Yes, I know that he did," said the captain. "And
 
 EVIDENCE 75 
 
 the hotel detective also says that you were white with 
 anger, and that you went off down Broadway like a 
 man with murder in his mind. Do you care to say 
 anything more?" 
 
 "Of course," said Prale. "I went down to Madi- 
 son Square, and there I sat down on a bench." 
 
 "Meet anybody there?" 
 
 "I did. I met an old friend, Jim Farland, who 
 used to be on your detective force, and who now 
 runs a private agency." 
 
 "1 know Farland well, and I'll send for him." 
 
 "I talked with Jim for some time," Prale went on. 
 "I told him, I believe, that I seemed to have enemies 
 working in the dark. I told him about the scene 
 with Shepley." 
 
 "Urn! What did Farland have to say?" 
 
 "Nothing, except that he couldn't understand why 
 Shepley had acted so. We talked the matter over 
 for a while and then we separated." 
 
 "Very well. And where did you go next?" 
 
 "I walked up Fifth Avenue," said Prale. "It was 
 after nine o'clock by that time." 
 
 "Go straight to your hotel?" 
 
 "I did not," Prale said. 
 
 "Care to tell me where you went and what you 
 did?" 
 
 "I have no objections. I walked up the Avenue, 
 and met my cousin, George Lerton, the broker." 
 
 "Meet him accidentally?" 
 
 "He overtook me called to me." 
 
 "How long did you talk to him?" 
 
 "For only a few minutes," said Prale. "You
 
 76 THE BRAND OF SILENCE 
 
 must understand that, while George Lerton is my 
 cousin, we are not exceptionally friendly, and never 
 have been. We worked for the same firm ten years 
 ago, and after I went to Honduras, George made 
 some money and got into business for himself; at 
 least he told me so last night." 
 
 "So you merely shook hands and renewed your 
 acquaintance?" the captain asked. 
 
 "There was something peculiar about the meet- 
 ing," Prale replied. 
 
 "In what way?" 
 
 "Lerton urged me to leave New York and remain 
 away. He said that I had powerful enemies." 
 
 "What about that?" 
 
 "It is what has been puzzling me. So far as I 
 know, I haven't a powerful enemy on earth. I sup- 
 pose I have a few business foes in Central America; 
 a man can't make a million without acquiring some 
 enemies at the same time. But I don't know of a 
 single influential person who is my enemy." 
 
 "Didn't Lerton explain to you?" 
 
 "He refused to do so," said Prale, "and I told 
 him to go his way and that I'd go mine." 
 
 "Doesn't that story seem a bit weak to you, Mr. 
 Prale?" 
 
 "It may, but it is a true story. Get Lerton and 
 question him if you wish. I couldn't make him talk 
 maybe you can. I'd like to know the names of 
 these enemies of mine, if I really have them." 
 
 "Anything else lead you to believe you might have 
 enemies ?" 
 
 "Yes. I have received several anonymous notes,
 
 EVIDENCE 77 
 
 some on board ship and some since landing, that say 
 something about retribution about to be visited upon 
 me." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 "I don't know, captain. I never did anything in 
 my life to merit such, retribution. I am sure of 
 that." 
 
 "What time was it when you parted from Lerton?" 
 
 "It must have been about nine thirty or a quarter 
 to ten." 
 
 "Go to 3|our hotel then?" 
 
 "No; I turned east and went to the river." 
 
 "Wasn't that a peculiar thing to do at that hour 
 of the night?" 
 
 "It may seem so to you," said Prale, "and I 
 scarcely can tell why I did it. I suppose it was be- 
 cause I wanted to think over what George Lerton 
 had told me, and down in Honduras I always used 
 to walk along the beach when I was thinking." 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 "I went out on a dock and sat down in the dark- 
 ness to think." 
 
 "How long did you remain there?" 
 
 "For more than half an hour; and I had an ex- 
 perience. Another man came on the dock. He was 
 going to jump into the river, but I convinced him 
 that suicide was folly, and said I've give him a job." 
 
 "Did you?" 
 
 "I did," said Prale. "I took him downtown and 
 bought him some clothes, and then took him to a 
 barber shop, and afterward to the hotel. I registered 
 him as my valet. I call him Murk. I can prove by
 
 78 THE BRAND OF SILENCE 
 
 him that I could not have killed Rufus Shepley about 
 eleven o'clock, because I was in Murk's company at 
 that time." 
 
 "What time did you get back to your hotel with 
 him?" 
 
 "It was a few minutes of midnight. We spent 
 considerable time buying the clothes and visiting the 
 barber shop." 
 
 "Um!" the captain said. "We'll have to question 
 a few of these people. It seems peculiar to me that 
 a millionaire would pick up a tramp and turn him 
 into a trusted servant." 
 
 "Perhaps it was peculiar. I can read men, I be- 
 lieve, and I decided that Murk needed only a chance, 
 and he would make good. He was broke and friend- 
 less, and I was a millionaire and almost as friendless. 
 That's the only way I can explain it." 
 
 "I'm going to send you to another office under 
 guard, Mr. Prale," the captain said. "I'll have these 
 people here in a short time, and we'll question them. 
 Just tell me where you bought the clothes for this 
 man, and what barber shop you visited." 
 
 Sidney Prale did so, and the captain of detectives 
 made notes regarding the addresses. 
 
 "That will be all for the present, Mr. Prale," he 
 said. "I don't want to cause any innocent man an- 
 noyance, but I can tell you this much things look 
 very bad for you!"
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 LIES AND LIARS 
 
 SIDNEY PRALE waited in an adjoining office, a 
 detective sitting in one corner of it and watching 
 him closely. It was almost a prison room, for there 
 were steel bars at the windows, and only the one 
 door. Prale walked to one of the windows and 
 looked down at the street, his arms folded across his 
 breast, trying to think it out. 
 
 The finding of that fountain pen in the room be- 
 side Rufus Shepley's body was what puzzled and 
 bothered him the most. How on earth could it have 
 come there? He tried to remember when he had 
 used it last, when he had last seen it. All that he 
 could recall was that, the afternoon before, he had 
 used it to write a note in a memorandum book. How 
 and where had he lost it, and how had it come into 
 Shepley's suite? Had he dropped it in the- hotel 
 lobby during his short quarrel with Shepley, while he 
 was shaking the man? Had Shepley picked it up 
 later and carried it home with him? Prale did not 
 think Shepley would have done that under the cir- 
 cumstances. 
 
 Well, he'd be at liberty soon enough, he told him- 
 self. It was natural for the police to learn of his 
 quarrel with Shepley and to make an arrest on the 
 strength of that and of finding the fountain pen.
 
 80 THE BRAND OF SILENCE 
 
 His alibi was perfect; they soon would know that he 
 could not have committed the crime. 
 
 It was almost an hour later when he was taken 
 back into the other room again. Prale had spent the 
 time standing before the window, smoking and try- 
 ing to think things out. The captain of detectives 
 was before his desk when Prale was ushered into 
 the office. 
 
 "I've been investigating your story, Mr. Prale," 
 the captain said, looking at him peculiarly. "It al- 
 ways has been a mystery to me why a man keen in 
 business and supposed to possess brains goes to 
 pieces when he commits a crime and tells a tale that 
 is full of holes." 
 
 "I beg your pardon !" Prale said. 
 
 "Sit down, Mr. Prale, over there and I'll have 
 some of the witnesses in. I have not questioned 
 them yet, but my men have, and have reported to me 
 what they said. They have discovered several other 
 things, too." 
 
 "I'm not afraid of anything they may have dis- 
 covered," Prale told the captain. 
 
 "Last night, you told Jim Farland that you had 
 had trouble with a bank, and at the hotel where you 
 first registered after you came ashore, did you not?" 
 
 "Yes; don't those things bear out my statement 
 about the powerful enemies?" 
 
 "We'll see presently," the captain said. 
 
 He spoke to the sergeant in attendance, who im- 
 mediately left the room, and presently returned with 
 the president of the trust company. He looked at
 
 LIES AND LIARS 81 
 
 Prale with interest, and took the chair the captain 
 designated. 
 
 "You know this man?" the captain asked. 
 
 "I do," said the banker. "He is Sidney Prale." 
 
 "Ever have any business with him?" 
 
 "Mr. Prale transferred a fortune to our institution 
 from Honduras," the banker said. "Yesterday he 
 called at the bank, satisfied me as to his identity, and 
 made arrangements concerning the money." 
 
 "Mr. Prale has said that, for some reason un- 
 known to him, you told him you did not care to 
 handle his business and didn't want his deposit," 
 the captain said. 
 
 "I scarcely think that was the way of it," the 
 banker replied. "We would have been glad to take 
 care of the deposit, which was practically one million 
 dollars. But Mr. Prale told me he had other plans 
 and that he would remove the deposit during the 
 day, which he did." 
 
 Sidney Prale sat up straight in his chair. "Didn't 
 you tell me that you didn't want anything to do with 
 me and my money?" he demanded. 
 
 "Certainly not," lied the banker. "You said that 
 you wished to put your funds in other institutions." 
 
 Prale gasped at the man's statement. It was a 
 bare-faced lie if one ever had been spoken. 
 
 "Why " Prale began. 
 
 "I do not care to discuss the matter further," the 
 banker interrupted. "I am a man of standing and 
 cannot afford to be mixed up in a case of this sort." 
 
 "You'll not be mixed up in it," the captain said.
 
 82 THE BRAND OF SILENCE 
 
 "I just wanted to show Mr. Prale that there were 
 some holes in his story. That is all, thank you!" 
 
 The banker left the room quickly, and Prale sprang 
 to his feet, his face livid. 
 
 "That man lied!" he exclaimed. "You could read 
 it in his face! I don't know why he lied, but he 
 did!" 
 
 "Sit down, Mr. Prale, and let's have more wit- 
 nesses in," the captain said. 
 
 Once more he spoke to the sergeant, and again the 
 latter went out, this time to return with the manager 
 of the first hotel at which Prale registered. 
 
 "Know this man?" the captain asked. 
 
 "He registered at my place as Sidney Prale, of 
 Honduras." 
 
 "Well, what about it?" 
 
 "We furnished him with a suite on the fifth floor," 
 the hotel manager said. "But he gave it up." 
 
 "Gave it up!" Prale cried. "Why, you called me 
 into your office and told me to get out, that the suite 
 has been reserved and that there was none vacant in 
 the house. The bell boy can testify that he called me 
 into the office." 
 
 "Certainly he called you into my office, and at my 
 request," the manager said. "I wanted to know why 
 you were leaving, whether any of the employees had 
 treated you with discourtesy. You told me that you 
 had been served poorly in the dining room the eve- 
 ning before, and that you were done with the hotel !" 
 
 Prale sprang to his feet. "That's a lie, and you 
 know it!" he cried. 
 
 "Captain," said the hotel man, "do I have to sit
 
 LIES AND LIARS 83 
 
 here and be insulted by a man charged with a heinous 
 crime ?" 
 
 "That will be all, thank you," the captain said. 
 
 The hotel manager hurried from the room, and 
 the captain grinned at Prale. 
 
 "So he lied, too, did he?" the captain asked. 
 
 "He did!" Prale cried. 
 
 "There seems to be an epidemic of falsehood, to 
 hear you tell it. However, let us get on with the 
 affair." 
 
 Once more he instructed the sergeant, and this 
 time the man brought in the hotel detective who had 
 witnessed the trouble between Prale and Shepley. 
 
 The hotel detective told the story much as Prale 
 himself had told it, except that he made it appear 
 that Prale had threatened Rufus Shepley on the walk 
 in front of the hotel before they separated. 
 
 "Did you pick up a fountain pen of mine after I 
 had gone?" Prale asked. 
 
 "I did not." 
 
 "See anybody else pick it up?" 
 
 "No, sir," said the hotel detective; and he went 
 out of the room. 
 
 The sergeant next ushered in George Lerton. 
 Prale sat up straight in his chair again. Here was 
 where his proper alibi began, with the exception of 
 Jim Farland. George Lerton's face was pale as he 
 sat down at the end of the desk. 
 
 "Know this man?" the captain asked. 
 
 "He is my cousin, Sidney Prale." 
 
 "How long has he been away from New York?" 
 
 "About ten years," Lerton said. "He returned day
 
 84 THE BRAND OF SILENCE 
 
 before yesterday, I believe. I saw his name in the 
 passenger list." 
 
 "Mr. Prale says that he met you last night on 
 Fifth Avenue, and that you told him he had some 
 powerful enemies seeking to cause him trouble, and 
 advised him to leave New York and remain away." 
 
 "Why why this is not so!" Lerton cried. "I 
 haven't seen him until this moment. I would have 
 looked him up, but did not know at what hotel he 
 was stopping, and thought that he'd try to find me." 
 
 Prale was out of his chair again, his face flaming. 
 "You mean to sit there and tell me that you didn't 
 talk to me on Fifth Avenue last night?" he cried. 
 
 "Why, of course I never talked to you, Sid. I 
 never saw you. What are you trying to do, Sid? 
 Why have you done this thing? We never were 
 close to each other, and yet we are cousins, and I 
 hate to see you in trouble." 
 
 "Stop your hypocritical sniveling!" Prale cried. 
 "You are lying and you know it! You saw me last 
 night " 
 
 "But I didn't!" 
 
 "You did and tried to get me to run away, and 
 wouldn't tell me your reason for it." 
 
 George Lerton licked at his lips and looked appeal- 
 ingly at the captain of detectives. 
 
 "I I am a man of standing," he whimpered. "I 
 am a broker here is my card. This man is my 
 cousin, but I cannot lie to shield him. I never saw 
 him last night, and did not speak to him." 
 
 Lerton got up and started for the door, and Sidney 
 Prale did not make a move to stop him.
 
 LIES AND LIARS 85 
 
 "It appears that your story is full of flaws," the 
 captain said. "A little of it is true, however; you 
 did meet Jim Farland and talk to him in Madison 
 Square, and remained for the length of time you said. 
 Jim has told me that much. But he does not know 
 where you went and what you did after leaving him. 
 What we are interested in is what you did in the 
 neighborhood of eleven o'clock last night. That is 
 when Rufus Shepley was killed. And now we'll have 
 in that new valet of yours." 
 
 There was a snarl on Murk's face as he came into 
 the room and sat down in the chair at the end of the 
 desk. Murk did not like policemen and detectives, and 
 did not care whether they knew of his dislike. He 
 flashed a glance at Sidney Prale and then faced the 
 captain. 
 
 "Well, what is it?" he asked. 
 
 "Tell us where and how you met Mr. Prale first, 
 what happened, and bring the story right up to date," 
 the captain commanded. 
 
 "Well, I went down to the river to jump in," 
 Murk said, as if stating a simple fact. "I was tired 
 of fightin' to live and had decided to end it all. Mr. 
 Prale grabbed me and hauled me back, and then he 
 made me see that suicide was foolish. He offered 
 me a job, and I agreed to take it. He was the first 
 man who had treated me decent since I " 
 
 "Never mind that; get down to cases." 
 
 "Well, we walked up the street and got a taxicab 
 and drove downtown, and Mr. Prale bought me some 
 clothes." 
 
 "What time was it when you met him?"
 
 86 THE BRAND OF SILENCE 
 
 "I guess it was about ten o'clock. We bought the 
 clothes, as I said, and then we went to a barber shop, 
 and I got a hair cut and a shave. After that we 
 went to Mr. Prale's hotel and up to his rooms. We 
 got to bed pretty quick." 
 
 "What time did you reach the hotel?" 
 
 "About midnight." 
 
 "What happened after you went to bed?" 
 
 "Went to sleep," said Murk. 
 
 "Never mind the jokes," the captain rebuked 
 sternly. 
 
 "Well, I stayed awake about an hour or so think- 
 ing how lucky I was, and then I went to sleep. I 
 woke up early in the mornin' and got up and dressed. 
 Mr. Prale got up later, and we ate breakfast in the 
 suite. Then the cops came. One of them took Mr. 
 Prale away, and he told me to stay in the rooms until 
 sent for. The other cop rummaged around the rooms 
 and then left." 
 
 Prale bent forward. "There is one man who can 
 speak the truth," he told the captain. "His story 
 corresponds with the one I told you, doesn't it? And 
 doesn't it show that I could not have murdered Rufus 
 Shepley at eleven o'clock last night?" 
 
 "The story is all right, and it certainly corresponds 
 with yours," replied the captain. "Just a minute!" 
 He faced Murk again. "Who are you and where 
 did you come from?" he demanded. 
 
 "I ain't anybody in particular. I've been hangin' 
 around town a couple of months doin' odd jobs. 
 Before that I was bummin' around the country work- 
 in' whenever I got a chance."
 
 LIES AND LIARS 87 
 
 "You felt grateful to Mr. Prale for giving you a 
 job and a home, didn't you?" 
 
 "Sure !" said Murk. "He talked to me decent, like 
 I was a man instead of a dog." 
 
 "Well, you don't seem to have much' standing in 
 the world," the captain said. "Your word, against 
 that of several prominent citizens, does not carry 
 much weight. You must see that. And there hap- 
 pens to be something else, too. I had the clothing 
 merchant and the barber you mentioned look you 
 over while you were in the other room. The clothing 
 merchant says he sold some clothes a couple of days 
 ago, the ones you are wearing now, but that he cer- 
 tainly did not sell them last night, and the barber 
 swears that he never saw you before!" 
 
 "Why, the dirty liars!" Murk cried. 
 
 "Did they say that?" Prale demanded. 
 
 "They did," the captain replied. "And they said 
 it in such a way that I believe them. Prale, your 
 alibi is shot full of holes. You told the truth about 
 meeting Jim Farland, and that much is in your favor. 
 Aside from that, we have only the testimony of a 
 tramp you said you picked up and gave a job. You 
 had plenty of time to kifl Rufus Shepley. You had 
 ample time to concoct the story and get this man to 
 learn it, so he could tell it and match yours. You 
 are worth a million dollars, and this man probably 
 was ready to lie a little for a wad of money." 
 
 "He tells the truth " 
 
 "It's too thin, Prale! And don't forget the foun- 
 tain pen that was found beside Shepley's body, either!
 
 88 THE BRAND OF SILENCE 
 
 As for you Murk, or whatever your right name is, 
 you are under suspicion yourself." 
 
 "What's that?" Murk snarled. 
 
 "You are under suspicion, I said. You might have 
 assisted at the murder, for all I know. I don't know 
 when you met Mr. Prale, or where, but I do know 
 that you got back to the hotel with Mr. Prale about 
 midnight an hour after the crime was committed." 
 
 "You can't hang anything like that on me!" Murk 
 snarled. "All the cops in the world can't do it! I 
 met Mr. Prale just like I said, and he bought me the 
 clothes and took me to the barber shop, no matter 
 what the store man and the barber say! It's a black 
 lie they're tellin' ! Mr. Prale is a gentleman " 
 
 "That'll be enough!" the captain exclaimed. "I'm 
 going to allow you to go, Murk, but you are to remain 
 in Mr. Prale's rooms and take care of his things. 
 And you can bet that you'll be watched, too." 
 
 "I don't care who watches me !" 
 
 "As for you, Mr. Prale, you'll have to go to a 
 cell, I think. The evidence against you is such that 
 I cannot turn you loose. You must realize that 
 yourself." 
 
 Prale realized it. His face was white and his 
 hands were shaking. He looked across the room at 
 Murk. 
 
 "You go back to the hotel, Murk, and do as the 
 captain says," he ordered. "I'll come out of this all 
 right in time. There are a lot of things I cannot 
 understand, but we'll solve the puzzle before we're 
 done." 
 
 "Ain't there anything I can do, sir?" Murk asked.
 
 LIES AND LIARS 89 
 
 "Perhaps, later. I'll engage a detective and a 
 lawyer, and they may visit you at the hotel. I'll send 
 you money by the lawyer. That's all now, Murk." 
 
 Murk started to speak, then thought better of it 
 and went from the room slowly, anger flushing his 
 face. Sidney Prale faced the captain of detectives 
 again. 
 
 "No matter what you think, I am innocent, and 
 know that my innocence can be proved," Prale said. 
 "You are only doing your duty, of course. I want 
 Jim Farland to attend to things for me. He is an 
 old friend of mine and he is an honest man. Will 
 you send for him?" 
 
 "He's waiting in the other room now," the captain 
 said. "I'll let you have a conference with him before 
 I order you into a cell!"
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 PUZZLED 
 
 ONCE more Prale was taken to the room in which 
 he had first waited the room with the barred 
 windows. This time the watching detective was miss- 
 ing. When Jim Farland entered, he found Prale 
 pacing back and forth from one corner to the other. 
 He was trying to think out his problem, wondering 
 what it all meant, why the witnesses had lied, and 
 what would be the outcome. 
 
 Farland rushed into the room, grasped Prale by 
 the hand, led him across from the door, and forced 
 him into a chair. This done, the loyal detective sat 
 down facing him. 
 
 "Now let us have it from beginning to end!" 
 Farland commanded. "I don't want you to leave out 
 a thing. I want to get to the bottom of this as soon 
 as possible." 
 
 Sidney Prale started at the beginning and talked 
 rapidly, setting forth all the facts, while Jim Far- 
 land sat back in his chair and watched him. Now 
 and then he frowned as if displeased at the recital. 
 
 "Well, there is something rotten," he said, when 
 Prale had concluded his statement. "I want you to 
 know, Sid, that I believe you. You're not the sort 
 of man to kill a fellow like Rufus Shepley over a
 
 PUZZLED 91 
 
 little spat. I believe your story about this Murk, too. 
 But why should everybody have it in for you?" 
 
 "I haven't the slightest idea," Prale answered. "I 
 must, indeed, have some powerful enemies, but I 
 cannot imagine who they are, and I know of no rea- 
 son why they should be against me. I'm simply up 
 in the air." 
 
 "You keep right on trying to figure it out," Far- 
 land advised him. "You might think of something 
 in time that will give me a start in my work." 
 
 "Why did the banker and hotel manager lie?" 
 Prale asked. "Why did the clothing-store man and 
 the barber lie? Why did George Lerton declare that 
 he did not see me and speak to me last night? And 
 how did my fountain pen get into Shepley's room?" 
 
 "Huh! When we know a few of those things, 
 we'll know enough to wipe this charge away from 
 your name," Jim Farland told him. "It's my job to 
 answer those little questions for you. And now 
 you want a lawyer, I suppose?" 
 
 "Yes. Can you suggest one?" 
 
 "The greatest criminal lawyer in town is named 
 Coadley. I'll send him right up here after I explain 
 about this case to him. Thank Heaven, you have 
 plenty of money! A poor man in a fix like this would 
 be on his way to the electric chair. Coadley can fix 
 you up, if anybody can. He can make a sinner look 
 like a saint." 
 
 "But I'm not guilty!" 
 
 "I understand that, Sid, but it doesn't hurt an 
 innocent man to have the best attorney he can get. 
 I'll send you Coadley. Give me a note to that fellow
 
 92 THE BRAND OF SILENCE 
 
 Murk, for I may want him to help me. Sure he's 
 loyal to you?" 
 
 "I never saw him until last night, but I'd bank on 
 him," said Prale. ''He'll stand by us !" 
 
 "Fair enough! You write that note right now, 
 and try to get out on bail. Tell Coadley to get busy 
 on that right away. Get out under police supervision, 
 under guard any way but get out!" 
 
 Jim Farland hurried away, and Sidney Prale was 
 conducted through dark corridors to a cell, where he 
 had the experience of hearing a door clang shut be- 
 hind him and the bolts shot. Prale never had ex- 
 pected to get into jail when he was worth a million 
 dollars, and most certainly he never had expected to 
 face a charge of murder. 
 
 He was allowed to send out for some luncheon, 
 and it was more than an hour before Coadley, the 
 attorney, arrived. Prale was taken into the consulta- 
 tion room. 
 
 He liked Coadley, and he liked the way in which 
 Coadley regarded him before he spoke. 
 
 "I believe that you are innocent," the lawyer said. 
 
 "The job will be to make other people think that 
 way," Prale said, with a laugh. The attorney's 
 words had been like a ray of hope to him. "Did 
 Jim Farland tell you the story?" 
 
 "Yes. I'll try to get you out on bail, or get you 
 out in some manner," Coadley said. "This appears 
 to be a peculiar case. It is not only the charge of 
 murder; it is the fact that several men told falsehoods 
 about you. You haven't an idea who your enemies 
 are?"
 
 PUZZLED 93 
 
 "Not the slightest." 
 
 "I'm glad that Jim Farland is working on this 
 case for you, Mr. Prale. He is a good man, and I 
 may need a lot of help. I'll get my own investigators 
 busy right away, too, and we'll cooperate with Jim 
 Farland. You go back to your cell and take it easy. 
 I'll get you out before night, if I can." 
 
 Lawyer Coadley was a shrewd man, and his 
 methods were the delight of other attorneys and 
 jurists. He lost no time when he was confronted 
 with a case that held unusual interest. Within an 
 hour he was in court, acting as if fighting mad. 
 
 Had a reputable citizen any rights, he demanded? 
 Were the police to be allowed to throw an innocent 
 man into jail simply because there had been a crime 
 committed and somebody had to be accused? His 
 client did not care for an examination at this time, he 
 said. Arraignment and a plea of not guilty were all 
 right, however. 
 
 Sidney Prale was arraigned, and the plea of not 
 guilty was made and entered. Then Coadley began 
 his fight to have Prale admitted to bail. 
 
 The district attorney opposed it, of course, since 
 that was his business. The judge listened to the 
 statement of the captain of detectives. He heard 
 Coadley say that his client could put up cash bail in 
 any amount, and was willing to abide by any pro- 
 visions. Finally the judge freed Prale on cash bail of 
 fifty thousand dollars, but designated that the bail 
 could be recalled at any time, and that he was to be 
 in the custody of a member of the police department 
 continually.
 
 94 THE BRAND OF SILENCE 
 
 Coadley agreed, and left the jail with his client, a 
 detective going with them to stand guard. The de- 
 tective had explicit orders. He was not to annoy 
 Sidney Prale. He was to withdraw out of earshot 
 when Prale talked with his attorney or anybody else 
 with whom he wished to converse privately. He was 
 to allow Prale to come and go as he wished, except 
 that Prale was not to be allowed to leave the limits of 
 the city. If he attempted that, he was to be put un- 
 der arrest immediately and taken to the nearest police 
 station. 
 
 Prale read the newspapers as he rode to the hotel 
 with Coadley and the detective. The story of the 
 crime was in all of them, the tale of his quarrel with 
 Rufus Shepley and of the finding of the fountain 
 pen, and the inevitable statement that the police were 
 on the track of more and better evidence. 
 
 Prale expected to be ordered out of the hotel, but 
 he was not, the management stipulating only that he 
 should not use the public dining room. He went up 
 to the suite, to find Murk there, sitting in front of a 
 window and glaring down at the street. 
 
 A cot was moved in for the use of the detective. 
 Coadley held another conference with Prale, and then 
 left to get busy on the case. Murk regarded the de- 
 tective with scorn, until Prale explained the situation 
 to him. After that, there was a sort of armed neu- 
 trality between them. Murk had no special liking for 
 detectives, and he was the sort of man detectives do 
 not like. 
 
 Presently Jim Farland arrived. 
 
 "Well, Sid, Coadley got you out of jail and home
 
 PUZZLED 95 
 
 before I could get here, did he?" Farland said. "I 
 suppose I'll not need that note of yours now. Is this 
 Mr. Murk?" 
 
 "It is," Prale said. "Murk, meet Jim Farland. 
 He's a detective friend of mine." 
 
 "Gosh, Mr. Prale, ain't there anybody but cops in 
 this town?" Murk asked. 
 
 "Jim is a private cop, and he has a job now to get 
 me out of this scrape," said Prale. "He's a friend of 
 mine, I said." 
 
 "I guess that makes it different," was Murk's only 
 comment. 
 
 "Oh, we'll get along all right," Farland put in. 
 "I'm going to need you in my business, Murk. I've 
 told the folks at police headquarters that I'd be re- 
 sponsible for you, so we can work together without 
 being pestered. Understand?" 
 
 Murk grinned at him. "You just show me how 
 to help get Mr. Prale out of this mess, and I'll sure 
 help," he said. 
 
 Farland turned toward the police detective. "Go 
 out into the hall and take a walk," he suggested. 
 "Mr. Prale will give you a couple of cigars." 
 
 The detective took the cigars and went out into the 
 hall, smiling. He had no fear of Sidney Prale slip- 
 ping down a fire escape, or anything like that. Jim 
 Farland was responsible, and Jim Farland was known 
 to the force as a man who felt his responsibilities. 
 
 "Now we'll get busy and dig to the bottom of this 
 mess," Farland said. "Been thinking it over, Sid? 
 Know any reason why anybody should be out after 
 you?"
 
 96 THE BRAND OF SILENCE 
 
 "I can't think of a thing," Prale replied. "I sup- 
 pose I made a few business enemies down in Hon- 
 duras, but none powerful enough to cause me all this 
 trouble. I can't understand it, Jim. It must be 
 something big to cause all those men to lie as they 
 did." 
 
 "Maybe it is, and maybe it is very simple when we 
 get right down to it," Farland said. "I've started 
 right in to work it out. Let me see those notes and 
 messages you received." 
 
 Prale got them from the dresser drawer and 
 handed them to Farland. The detective looked them 
 over, even going as far as to use a magnifying glass. 
 
 "Don't laugh!" Farland said. "A lot of folks 
 make fun of the fiction detective who goes around 
 with a magnifying glass in one hand, but, believe me, 
 a good glass shows up a lot of things. It isn't show- 
 ing up anything here, though. Where do you sup- 
 pose these things came from?" 
 
 "I don't know," said Prale. 
 
 "Got the first one on the ship, did you?" 
 
 "The first two. One was pinned to the pillow in 
 my stateroom, and the second was pasted on the end 
 of my suit case as I was landing. The mucilage was 
 still wet." 
 
 "Didn't suspect anybody?" 
 
 "I didn't think much about it at first," said Prale. 
 "I thought it was a joke, or that somebody was mak- 
 ing a mistake." 
 
 "Sid, have you told me everything?" 
 
 Prale remembered Kate Gilbert and flushed. 
 
 "I see that you haven't," Farland said. "Out with
 
 PUZZLED 97 
 
 it! Some little thing may give me the start I am 
 looking for." 
 
 Prale told about Kate Gilbert, about the piece of 
 paper she had dropped as she got into the limousine, 
 about the peculiar way she acted toward him, and 
 the attitude of Marie, the misnamed maid. 
 
 "Um!" Farland grunted. "We had one thing lack- 
 ing in this case and we have that. The woman!" 
 
 "But I only met her down there and danced with 
 her twice." 
 
 "Don't know anything about her, I suppose?" 
 
 "Not a thing. It was understood that she belonged 
 to a wealthy New York family and was traveling for 
 the benefit of her health. At least, that was the 
 rumor." 
 
 "I know of a lot of wealthy families in this town, 
 but I never heard of a Kate Gilbert," Farland said. 
 "I think I'll make a little investigation." 
 
 "But why on earth should she be taking a hand in 
 my affairs?" Prale wanted to know. 
 
 "Why should you be accused of murder? Why 
 should men tell lies about you?" Farland asked. 
 "Excuse me for a time; I'm going down to the hotel 
 office to find out a few things." 
 
 Farland hurried away, and the police detective en- 
 tered the suite again and made himself comfortable. 
 Jim Farland went directly to the office of the hotel 
 and looked at a city directory. He found no Kate 
 Gilbert listed, except a seamstress who resided in 
 Brooklyn. The telephone directory gave him no 
 help. 
 
 But that was not conclusive, of course. A thou-
 
 98 THE BRAND OF SILENCE 
 
 sand Kate Gilberts might be living in New York, in 
 apartments or at hotels, without having a private 
 telephone. 
 
 "Have to get a line on that girl!" Farland told 
 himself. "She's got something to do with this. I'll 
 bet my reputation on it." 
 
 Jim Farland went to the smoking room and sat 
 down in a corner. He tried to think it out, groped 
 for a starting point. He considered all the persons 
 connected with the case, one at a time. 
 
 Farland knew that Sidney Prale had told the 
 truth. Why, then, had George Lerton told a false- 
 hood about meeting Prale and talking to him, when 
 the truth would have helped to establish an alibi? 
 Why had the clothing merchant and the barber lied? 
 
 "I suppose I'll have to use stern methods," Far- 
 land told himself. "Old police stuff, I suppose. 
 Well, I'm the man that can do it, take it from me!" 
 
 He went up to Prale's suite again. 
 
 "Can't find out anything about that woman," he 
 reported. "And I want to get in touch with her. 
 Keep your eyes peeled for her, Sid, and arrange for 
 me to catch sight of her, if you can. Now you'd 
 better take a little rest. You've been through an ex- 
 perience to-day. I'm going out to get busy, and I'm 
 going to take Murk with me." 
 
 "What for?" Murk demanded. 
 
 "You're going to help me, old boy." 
 
 "Me work with a cop?" Murk exclaimed. 
 
 "To help Mr. Prale." 
 
 "Well, that's different," Murk said. "Wait until 
 I get my hat."
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 ON THE TRAIL 
 
 FARLAND engaged a taxicab, bade Murk get into 
 it, got in himself, and they started downtown. 
 The detective leaned back against the cushions and 
 regarded Murk closely. He knew that Sidney Prale 
 had guessed correctly, that Murk was the sort of 
 man who would prove loyal to a friend. 
 
 "This is a bad business," Farland said. 
 
 "It's tough," said Murk. 
 
 "If it was anybody but Sid Prale, I'd say he was 
 guilty. It sure looks bad. And there is that foun- 
 tain pen!" 
 
 "Somebody's tryin' to do him dirt," Murk said. 
 
 "There's no question about that, Murk, old boy. 
 Well, we are going to get him out of it, aren't we?" 
 
 "I'll do anything I can." 
 
 "Like him, do you?" 
 
 "Met him less than twenty-four hours ago, but I 
 wish I'd met him or somebody like him ten years 
 ago," Murk replied. "If it hadn't been for Mr. 
 Prale, I'd be a stiff up in the morgue this minute." 
 
 "Strong for him, are you?" 
 
 "Yes, sir, I am!" 
 
 "Urn!" said Jim Farland. "We're going to get 
 along fine together. I was strong for Sid Prale ten 
 years ago, before he went away. And I'll bet that,
 
 ioo THE BRAND OF SILENCE 
 
 when we get to the bottom of this, we'll find some- 
 thing mighty interesting." 
 
 The taxicab stopped at a corner, and Farland and 
 Murk got out. Farland paid the chauffeur and 
 watched him drive away, and then he led Murk 
 around the corner. 
 
 "Know where you are?" he asked. 
 
 "Sure. Right over there is the little shop where 
 Mr. Prale bought me my new clothes," Murk said. 
 
 "Fine! That goes to show that Prale told the 
 truth. Well, Murk, you stand right here by the 
 curb and watch the front door of that shop. And 
 when you see me beckon to you, you come running." 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 Jim Farland hurried across the street, opened the 
 door of the little shop, and entered. The proprietor 
 came from the rear room when he heard the door 
 slammed. 
 
 He knew Jim Farland and had known him for 
 years. There were few old-timers in that section of 
 the city who did not know Jim Farland. The man 
 who faced the detective now was small, stoop- 
 shouldered, a sort of a rat of a man who had con- 
 siderably more money to his credit than his appear- 
 ance indicated, and who was not eager to have the 
 world in general know how he had acquired some 
 of it. 
 
 "Evenin', Mr. Farland," he said. "Anything I can 
 do for you, sir?" 
 
 "Maybe you can and maybe you can't," Farland 
 told him. "You been behaving yourself lately?" 
 
 "What do you mean, Mr. Farland? I've been try-
 
 ON THE TRAIL 101 
 
 ing to get along, but business ain't been any too good 
 the last year." 
 
 "Save that song for somebody who doesn't know 
 better!" Farland advised him. "Change the record 
 when you play me a tune." 
 
 "Yes, sir. Is there anything I can do for you, 
 Mr. Farland?" 
 
 "Remember a little deal a couple of years ago?" 
 Farland demanded suddenly. 
 
 "I I " 
 
 "I see that you do. One little word from me in 
 the proper quarter, old man, and you'll be doing 
 time. You've sailed pretty close to the edge of the 
 law a lot of times, and once, I know, you slipped over 
 the edge a bit." 
 
 "I I hope, sir " 
 
 "You'd better hope that you can keep on the good 
 side of me," Jim Farland told him. 
 
 "If there is anything I can do, Mr. Farland " 
 
 "Do you suppose you could tell the truth?" 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 "I'm going to give you a chance. If you tell the 
 truth, I may forget something I know, for the time 
 being. But, if you shouldn't tell the truth well, my 
 memory is excellent when I want to exercise it." 
 
 Farland stepped to the door and beckoned, and 
 Murk hurried across the street and entered the shop. 
 
 "Ever see this man before?" Farland demanded. 
 
 The storekeeper licked his lips, and a sudden gleam 
 came into his eyes. 
 
 "I he seems to look familiar, but I can't say." 
 
 "You'd better say!" Farland exclaimed. "I want
 
 102 THE BRAND OF SILENCE 
 
 the truth out of you, or something will drop. And 
 when it drops, it is liable to hit you on the toes. 
 Get me?" 
 
 "I I don't know what to do," wailed the mer- 
 chant. 
 
 "Tell the truth!" 
 
 "But there is something peculiar about " 
 
 "Out with it! Know this man?" 
 
 "I've seen him before," the merchant replied. 
 
 "When?" 
 
 "La-last night, sir." 
 
 "Now we are getting at it!" Jim Farland ex- 
 claimed. "When did you see him last night, and 
 where, and what happened?" 
 
 "He was in the store, Mr. Farland, about half past 
 ten or a quarter of eleven o'clock. He he bought 
 those clothes he's got on." 
 
 "Pay for them?" 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 "Who paid for them?" Farland demanded. 
 
 "A gentleman who was with him," said the mer- 
 chant. 
 
 "Ah! Know the gentleman?" 
 
 "I saw him to-day at police headquarters." 
 
 "And you said that you never had seen him before 
 that he was not here last night with this man. 
 Why did you lie?" 
 
 Jim Farland roared the question and smashed a 
 fist down upon the counter. The little merchant 
 flinched. 
 
 "Out with it!" Farland cried. "Tell the truth, 
 you little crook! I want to know why you lied, who
 
 ON THE TRAIL 103 
 
 told you to lie. I want to know all about it, and 
 mighty quick!" 
 
 "I I don't understand this," the merchant whim- 
 pered. "I was afraid of making a mistake." 
 
 "You'll make a mistake right now if you don't tell 
 the truth!" Jim Farland told him. 
 
 "I I got a letter, sir, by messenger. I got it early 
 this morning, sir." 
 
 "Well, what about it?" 
 
 "The letter was typewritten, sir, and was not 
 signed. There was a thousand dollars in bills in the 
 letter, sir, and it said that a Mr. Prale had just been 
 arrested for murder, and that he probably would try 
 to make an alibi by saying that he was here last night 
 and bought some clothes for another man. The let- 
 ter said that I was to take the money and ask no 
 questions, and that, if I was called to police head- 
 quarters, I was to say the man had not been here and 
 that I never had seen him in my life before." 
 
 "And you fell for it? You wanted that thousand, 
 I suppose." 
 
 "I'll show you the letter, Mr. Farland. There was 
 no signature at all, and the paper was just common 
 paper. I I thought it was politics, sir." 
 
 "You did, eh?" 
 
 "Thought it had something to do with politics, 
 sir. I thought the letter and money might have come 
 from political headquarters. I was afraid to tell the 
 truth at the police station." 
 
 "You mean you have been so crooked for years 
 that you're afraid of everybody who has a little in- 
 fluence," Farland told him.
 
 104 THE BRAND OF SILENCE 
 
 "I thought it was orders, sir, from somebody who 
 had better be obeyed." 
 
 "Oh, I understand, all right. Well, I scarcely 
 think it was politics. You've been played, that's all. 
 Get me that letter !" 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 The merchant got it and handed it over, together 
 with the envelope. He had told the truth. The let- 
 ter was typewritten on an ordinary piece of paper, 
 and the envelope was of the sort anybody could pur- 
 chase at a corner drug store. Farland put the letter 
 in his pocket. 
 
 "Here between ten thirty and a quarter of eleven, 
 was he?" 
 
 "Yes, sir," said the merchant. 
 
 "All right! You remember that, and don't change 
 your mind again, if you know what is good for you. 
 You'll hear from me in the morning. That's all!" 
 
 Jim Farland went from the store with a grinning 
 Murk at his heels, leaving a badly frightened small 
 merchant behind him. 
 
 "I know that bird," he told Murk. "He's a fence, 
 or I miss my guess. It's no job at all to run a bluff 
 on a small-time crook like that. And now we'll run 
 down and see that barber." 
 
 They engaged another taxicab and made a trip. 
 Once more Murk remained outside, and Jim Farland 
 entered and beckoned the barber to him. 
 
 "Step outside the door where nobody will over- 
 hear," he said. "I want to ask you something." 
 
 The barber stepped outside, wondering what was
 
 ON THE TRAIL 105 
 
 coming. This man knew Jim Farland, too, and he 
 knew that a call from him might mean trouble. 
 
 "Trying to see how far you can go and keep out 
 of jail?" Farland demanded. 
 
 "I I don't know what you mean, sir." 
 
 "Trying to run a bluff on me? On me?" Farland 
 gasped. "You'd better talk straight. Do you expect 
 to run a barber shop by day and a gambling joint by 
 night all your life?" 
 
 "Why, I " 
 
 "Don't lie!" Farland interrupted. "I know all 
 about that little back room. Maybe I'm not on the 
 city police force now, but you know me! I've got a 
 bunch of friends on the force, and if I told a certain 
 sergeant about your little game and said that I 
 wanted to have you run in he wouldn't hesitate a 
 minute." 
 
 "But what have I done, Mr. Farland?" the barber 
 gasped. "I've always been friendly to you." 
 
 "I know it. But are you going to keep right on 
 being friendly?" 
 
 "Of course, sir." 
 
 "Willing to help me out in a little matter if I 
 forget about that gambling?" 
 
 "I'll do the best I can, Mr. Farland." 
 
 "Then answer a few questions. Did you get a 
 typewritten letter this morning, with a wad of 
 money in it?" 
 
 The barber's face turned white. 
 
 "Answer me!" Farland commanded. 
 
 "Yes, I I got such a letter and I don't know
 
 io6 THE BRAND OF SILENCE 
 
 what to make of it," the barber said. "I've got 
 the letter and money in my desk right now. There 
 wasn't any signature, and I didn't know where the 
 letter came from, or what it meant." 
 
 "Then why did you do what the letter told you 
 to do?" Farland asked. 
 
 "I I don't understand." 
 
 Farland motioned, and Murk now stepped around 
 the corner. 
 
 "Know this man?" Farland demanded. 
 
 "I I've seen him before." 
 
 "That letter told you to go to police headquarters, 
 if requested to do so, and deny you knew this man, 
 didn't it? It told you not to help a man named 
 Sidney Prale, arrested for murder, to make his alibi 
 by telling that he was here with this man last night 
 about eleven o'clock, didn't it?" 
 
 "Y-yes, sir." 
 
 "And you did just what the letter told you?" 
 
 "I was afraid not to do it, sir. I didn't know 
 where that letter came from, you see." 
 
 "Had an idea it came from some boss, didn't you?" 
 
 "I didn't know and I didn't dare take a chance, 
 Mr. Farland. You know how it is?" 
 
 "I know how it is with a man who has busted 
 a few laws and knows he ought to be pinched !" 
 
 "Did I make some sort of a mistake, sir? What 
 should I do now?" 
 
 "Something you don't do very often tell the 
 truth," Jim Farland replied. "How about this man?" 
 
 "He came here with the other gentleman last night
 
 ON THE TRAIL 107 
 
 about eleven o'clock, sir. He got a hair cut and a 
 shave, and the other gentleman paid the bill." 
 
 "Thanks. Sure about the time?" 
 
 "I know that it was almost a quarter after eleven 
 when they left the shop." 
 
 "Well, I'm glad you can speak the truth. Get 
 on your hat and coat!" 
 
 "I what do you mean, sir? Am I arrested?" 
 
 "No. Get that letter and come with me. I want 
 you to tell the truth to somebody else, that's all." 
 
 The frightened barber got his hat and coat and 
 the letter, and followed Jim Farland and Murk to 
 the corner. There Farland engaged another taxicab, 
 and ordered the chauffeur to drive back to the little 
 clothing store. 
 
 "Running up a nice expense bill for Prale, but he 
 won't care," Jim Farland said to Murk. 
 
 He compelled the merchant to shut up his shop 
 and get into the cab, and then the chauffeur drove 
 to police headquarters. Farland had telephoned from 
 the clothing store, and the captain of detectives was 
 waiting for him. He ushered the merchant and the 
 barber into the office, looked down at the captain, 
 and grinned. 
 
 "What's all this?" the captain demanded. 
 
 "It's Sid Prale's alibi," Jim Farland said. "These 
 two gents want to tell you how they lied to-day, and 
 why they lied. It is an interesting story." 
 
 The captain sat up straight in his chair, while Jim 
 Farland removed his hat, sat down, motioned for 
 Murk to do the same, and made himself comfortable. 
 
 "About that alibi," Farland said. "I know that
 
 io8 THE BRAND OF SILENCE 
 
 George Lerton lied about meeting Sid Prale on Fifth 
 Avenue, but you don't, and so we'll let that pass for 
 the time being and get to it later. I just want to 
 show you now that Prale's story about meeting this 
 man Murk was a true tale. This clothing merchant 
 is ready to say now that Prale and Murk were in 
 his place last night about half past ten, and that 
 Murk got his clothes there. And this barber is ready 
 to swear that Prale and Murk arrived at his shop 
 about a quarter of eleven or eleven, and did not 
 leave until a quarter after eleven. Prale and Murk 
 got to the hotel, as you know, at midnight. Prale 
 couldn't have gone to that other hotel, murdered 
 Rufus Shepley, and got to his suite by twelve o'clock, 
 not if he left that barber shop far downtown at a 
 quarter after eleven, could he?" 
 
 "Scarcely," said the captain. 
 
 "Very well. Ask these two gents some ques- 
 tions." 
 
 The captain did. He read the two typewritten 
 letters and he understood how the fear of a political 
 power might have been in the hearts of the two 
 men. He rebuked them and allowed them to go. 
 
 "Well, it looks a little better for Mr. Prale," the 
 captain said, "but this isn't the end, by any means. 
 Remember that fountain pen of his that was found 
 beside the body of Rufus Shepley!" 
 
 "I didn't say that it was the end," Jim Farland 
 declared. "I don't want it given out that any evi- 
 dence has been found that is in Prale's favor. I 
 just want you to whisper in the ear of the court 
 that the alibi looks good, and let it go at that.
 
 ON THE TRAIL 109 
 
 There's something behind this case, and we want to 
 find out what it is. Prale is out on bail and let it 
 go at that, as far as the public is concerned." 
 
 "I grasp you," said the captain. "You want these 
 enemies of his to think he is in deep water, so 
 they'll be off guard and you can do your work." 
 
 "Exactly," said Jim Farland. 
 
 "Good enough. I'll do my part." 
 
 "Know anything about a woman calling herself 
 Kate Gilbert?" 
 
 "Never heard of her." 
 
 Farland explained what Prale had told him. The 
 captain fingered his mustache. 
 
 "Several thousand women in this town answer 
 that general description," he said. "I'm afraid I 
 can't help you, unless you can pick her up." 
 
 "That's what I'll do as soon as I can," Farland 
 replied. "If I can get my eyes on her once, I'll 
 trail her and find out a few things. She may have 
 nothing to do with this, and she may have a great 
 deal to do with it. What do you know about George 
 Lerton?" 
 
 "Shady broker," the captain replied. "Never done 
 anything outside the law, as far as I know, but he's 
 come pretty close to it. I'd hate to have him handling 
 my money." 
 
 "Well, he lied about meeting Prale. He did his 
 best to get Prale to run away from town. That was 
 a couple of hours before the murder, of course, 
 so it probably had nothing to do with that. But 
 why should he try to get Prale out of town? And, 
 being a man of that sort, why did he say that he
 
 i io THE B;RAND OF SILENCE 
 
 wouldn't handle Praia's funds? You'd think a man 
 of his sort would like nothing better than to get 
 his fingers tangled up in that million." 
 
 "I'll have a man take a look at George Lerton." 
 
 "Don't strain yourself," said Jim Farland. "I'm 
 going to take a look at him myself, the first thing 
 to-morrow morning." 
 
 He left headquarters with Murk, and this time 
 he did not engage a taxicab. He walked up the 
 street, Murk at his side, and puffed at a cigar 
 furiously. 
 
 "Well, Murk, we've made a good start," Farland 
 said, after a time. 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 "How do you like working with a detective now?" 
 
 "Aw, you ain't a regular detective," Murk said. 
 
 "What's that?" 
 
 "I mean you ain't an ordinary dick. You got 
 some sense." 
 
 "Thanks for the compliment. I know men who 
 would dispute the statement," Farland told him. 
 
 They walked and walked, and after a time were 
 on Fifth Avenue and going toward the hotel where 
 Prale had his suite. Suddenly, just ahead of them, 
 they saw Sidney Prale and the man from head- 
 quarters. They hurried to catch up with them. 
 
 "What's the idea?" Farland asked. 
 
 "Needed a walk," Prale replied. "Didn't feel 
 like going to bed, and a walk would do me good, 
 I knew." 
 
 "I'll have some things to tell you in the morning," 
 Farland said. "But I'm not going to tell you to-
 
 ON THE TRAIL ill 
 
 night, except to say that it is good news, and I'm 
 issuing orders to Murk not to tell you, either. I 
 want you to forget the thing and get some rest." 
 
 "All right," Prale said, laughing; and then he 
 stopped still and gasped. 
 
 "What is it?" Farland asked. 
 
 "Kate Gilbert!" 
 
 "Where?" 
 
 "There just getting into that limousine. See 
 her? The girl with the red hat!" 
 
 "I see her," Farland replied, signaling the chauffeur 
 of a passing taxicab. "This is what I was hoping 
 for, Sid. Go on to the hotel with Murk and guard. 
 I'm going to find out a few things about Miss Kate 
 Gilbert!" 
 
 He gave the chauffeur of the taxicab whispered 
 directions, and then sprang into the machine.
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 CONCERNING KATE GILBERT 
 
 GIVEN a definite trail to follow, Jim Farland 
 was one of the best trackers in the business. 
 He liked to know his quarry by sight, and conduct 
 the hunt in a proper manner. And so he rejoice<i 
 that now he was following a person he believed 
 to be interested in some way in the Shepley case. 
 
 The limousine went up Fifth Avenue toward Cen- 
 tral Park, and the taxicab with Jim Farland inside 
 followed half a block behind. Farland did nothing 
 except look ahead continually and make sure that 
 his chauffeur did not lose the other machine. He 
 wanted to discover, first, where Miss Kate Gilbert 
 was going, and after that he wanted to acquire all 
 the information he could concerning her. 
 
 There was little traffic on the Avenue at this 
 hour, and the limousine made good progress. It 
 curved around the Circle and went up Central Park 
 West. In the Eighties it turned off into a side 
 street, and finally drew up to the curb and stopped. 
 The taxicab came to a halt a hundred feet behind it. 
 "Wait," Jim Farland instructed the chauffeur, show- 
 ing his shield. "Wait until I come back, even if I 
 don't come back until morning. You will get good 
 pay, all right." 
 
 The chauffeur settled back behind his wheel, and
 
 CONCERNING KATE GILBERT 113 
 
 Farland stepped to one side in the darkness and 
 watched. He saw an elderly gentleman emerge from 
 the limousine and turn to help Kate Gilbert out. 
 Then the elderly gentleman got into the car again 
 and was driven away, and Kate Gilbert went into the 
 apartment house before which the limousine had 
 stopped. 
 
 Detective Jim Farland hurried forward, but when 
 he came opposite the apartment house he slowed 
 down and walked slowly, glancing in. It was not an 
 apartment house of the better sort. The lobby 
 was small, there was an automatic elevator, and no 
 hall boy was on duty, that Farland could see. There 
 was a row of mail boxes against a wall, with name 
 plates over them. 
 
 Farland went up the steps, opened the door, and 
 stepped inside the lobby. He walked across to the 
 mail boxes and began looking at the names. He 
 found some one named Gilbert had an apartment on 
 the third floor, front. 
 
 The stairs were before him, and Farland was 
 about to start up them when a door leading to the 
 basement was opened, and a janitor appeared. He 
 was an old man, bent and withered, and he looked 
 at Farland with sudden suspicion. 
 
 "You want to see somebody in the house?" he 
 asked, in a voice that quavered. 
 
 "I want to see you," Jim Farland answered. 
 
 "What about, sir?" 
 
 Farland exhibited his shield, and the old janitor 
 recoiled, fright depicted in his face. 
 
 "I ain't done anything wrong, mister," he said
 
 H4 THE BRAND OF SILENCE 
 
 hoarsely. "I obey all the regulations about ashes 
 and garbage and everything like that." 
 
 "Don't be afraid of me," Farland said. "I'm not 
 accusing you of doing anything wrong, am I? I 
 can see that you're a law-abiding man. You haven't 
 nerve enough to be anything else. Suppose you 
 step outside with me for a few minutes. I just 
 want to ask you a few questions about something." 
 
 "All right, sir, if that's it," the old janitor said. 
 
 He opened the front door and led the way out- 
 side, and Farland forced him to walk a short dis- 
 tance down the street, and there they stopped in a 
 doorway to talk. 
 
 "I'm going to ask you a few questions, and you 
 are going to answer them, and then you are going 
 to forget that you ever saw me or that I ever asked 
 you a thing," Farland said. 
 
 "I understand, sir. I won't give away any police 
 business," the old janitor replied. "I know all about 
 such things. I had a nephew once who was a po- 
 liceman." 
 
 "There's a party living in your place who goes 
 by the name of Gilbert, isn't there?" 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 "How many are there in the family, and who are 
 they, and what do you know about them?" 
 
 "There is an old man, sir," the janitor answered. 
 "He's a sort of cripple, I guess. He always sits in 
 one of them invalid chairs, and when he goes out 
 somebody has to wheel him. If he ain't exactly a 
 cripple, then he's mighty sick and weak." 
 
 "Who else is in the family?"
 
 CONCERNING KATE GILBERT 115 
 
 "He's got a daughter, whose name is Miss Kate," 
 the janitor said. "She's a mighty fme-lookin' girl, 
 too. She's a nice woman, I reckon. 'Pears to be, 
 anyway." 
 
 "Do you know anything in particular about her?" 
 Jim Farland asked him. 
 
 "Well, she's been away for about three months, 
 and she just got back," the janitor replied. "I don't 
 know where she was didn't hear. While she was 
 gone, there was a man nurse 'tended to her father 
 cooked the meals and kept the apartment clean and 
 took him out in his wheel chair. Miss Kate has a 
 maid they call Marie a big, ugly woman. She 
 takes care of things generally when she is here, but 
 she was away with Miss Kate." 
 
 "How long have they lived here?" Farland asked. 
 
 "About three years, sir. But I don't know much 
 about them. They ain't the kind of folks a man 
 can find out a lot about. They act peculiar some- 
 times." 
 
 "Are they rich?" 
 
 "My gracious, no!" said the old janitor. "They 
 pay their rent on time, and they always seem to 
 have plenty to eat, and I guess they can afford 
 to keep that maid and hire a nurse once in a while, 
 but they ain't what you'd call rich. But Miss Kate 
 comes home in a big automobile now and then, 
 and she seems to have a lot of clothes. There's 
 something funny about it, at that." 
 
 "Think she isn't a decent woman?" Farland asked. 
 
 "Oh, I don't think she's a bad sort, sir, if that is 
 what you mean. She doesn't seem to be, at all.
 
 ii6 THE BRAND OF SILENCE 
 
 I guess she gets her swell clothes honest enough. 
 I think that she works for somebody and has to 
 dress that way." 
 
 "Do they get much mail and have many visitors?" 
 
 "They get a few letters, and some newspapers and 
 magazines," the janitor replied. "And they don't 
 seem to have many visitors. I've seen a man come 
 here once or twice to see them, and once he brought 
 Miss Kate home in an auto. He looks like a rich 
 man." 
 
 "Is he old or young?" Farland asked. 
 
 "Oh, he has gray hair, sir, and looks like a dis- 
 tinguished gentleman, like a lawyer or something. 
 I guess he's rich. I think maybe he is an old 
 friend of Mr. Gilbert's, or something like that." 
 
 "They live on the third floor, don't they?" 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 "Any vacant apartments up there?" 
 
 "Why, the apartment adjoining theirs happens to 
 be vacant just now, sir." 
 
 "You take me up to that vacant apartment," Jim 
 Farland directed. "Let me in without making any 
 noise, and then forget all about me until I speak 
 to you again. Here is a nice little bill, and there will 
 be more if you attend to business. I'm an officer, so 
 you'll not get in trouble with the landlord." 
 
 The old janitor accepted the bill gladly, and led 
 the way back to the house. Jim Farland refused 
 to use the elevator; he insisted on walking up the 
 stairs, and on going up noiselessly. When they 
 reached the third floor, he was doubly alert. 
 
 The old janitor pointed out the door of the vacant
 
 CONCERNING KATE GILBERT 117 
 
 apartment, and handed Farland a key. Then he 
 pattered back down the stairs. Farland slipped along 
 the hall, unlocked the door of the vacant apartment, 
 darted inside, and locked the door again, putting 
 the key in his pocket. And then he moved noiselessly 
 through the apartment until he had reached the front. 
 
 He could hear voices in the apartment adjoining, 
 and could make out the conversation. A woman 
 was speaking Farland decided that she was Kate 
 Gilbert and the weak voice of a sick man was 
 answering her now and then. 
 
 "Let's not talk about it any more to-night, father," 
 the girl was saying. "You'll not sleep well, if you 
 get to thinking about it. You must go to bed now, 
 and we'll have a real talk about things when I have 
 something of importance to tell you. Get a good 
 sleep, and in the morning Marie can take you out 
 in the Park." 
 
 Jim Farland could hear the old man mutter some 
 reply, and then there reached his ears the squeaking 
 of a wheel chair being rolled across the floor. He 
 remained for a time standing against the wall, lis- 
 tening. He decided that those in the Gilbert apart- 
 ment were preparing to retire. Half an hour later, 
 Farland slipped from the room and went to the base- 
 ment to find the janitor. 
 
 "Here's your key," he said. "I'll be back here 
 in the morning, and I'll want to see you. And re- 
 member you're not to say a word about all this." 
 
 "Not a single word, sir." 
 
 Farland went back to the taxicab and drove to his 
 own modest home, where he tumbled into bed and
 
 n8 THE BRAND OF SILENCE 
 
 slept the sleep of the just. When Jim Farland slept, 
 he slept and when he worked, he worked. Farland 
 did not mix labor and rest. 
 
 He arose early, hurried through his breakfast, got 
 another taxicab and went up into the Eighties again. 
 The old janitor was sweeping off the walk in front 
 of the apartment house. The curtains at the windows 
 of the Gilbert apartment were still down. 
 
 "Give me that key again and give me a pass 
 key, too," Farland told the old janitor. "If the 
 maid takes Mr. Gilbert out, and Miss Gilbert is 
 gone at the same time, I want to get into their 
 apartment and take a look around. Understand? 
 And I'll want you to watch, so I'll not be caught in 
 there." 
 
 "I understand, sir. Here are the keys." 
 
 Farland reached the vacant apartment without 
 being seen. The Gilberts were up now and eating 
 breakfast. He could hear Kate Gilbert trying to 
 cheer her father, but not a word she said had any- 
 thing to do with Sidney Prale, or Rufus Shepley, 
 or anybody connected in any way with the Shepley 
 murder case. 
 
 "Now you must let Marie take you to the Park, 
 father," he heard the girl say. "It is a splendid 
 day, and you must get a lot of fresh air. You can 
 go down and watch the animals. I'm going out 
 now, but I'll be back some time during the after- 
 noon, and then we'll talk about things." 
 
 Jim Farland waited in the vacant apartment until 
 he heard Kate Gilbert depart. A quarter of an hour 
 later, he opened the front door a crack and saw
 
 CONCERNING KATE GILBERT 119 
 
 the gigantic Marie wheel out the chair with Mr. 
 Gilbert in it. They went down in the elevator. 
 
 Farland waited for another quarter of an hour, 
 until the old janitor came up and told that he had 
 watched the maid wheel Mr. Gilbert into the Park. 
 
 "I'll just leave the elevator up here until some- 
 body rings," the old janitor said, "and I'll watch 
 the floor below from the top of the stairs. Then, 
 if any of them come back, I'll tell you so you can 
 get out." 
 
 He took his station at the head of the stairs, 
 leaving the elevator door open so that the contrivance 
 could not be operated from below. Jim Farland 
 unlocked the door of the Gilbert apartment and 
 stepped inside. 
 
 The first glance told him that it was an ordinary 
 apartment furnished in quite an ordinary manner. It 
 certainly did not look like a home of wealth, and 
 Sidney Prale had said that it had been understood 
 in Honduras that Kate Gilbert was of a rich family 
 and traveling for her health. 
 
 Many tourists claim to have money when they 
 are away from home, of course, but the part about 
 traveling for her health seemed to Jim Farland to 
 be going a bit too far. Would such a woman be 
 traveling for her health and leave behind her at 
 home an old father who was an invalid? 
 
 "There's something behind that little trip of hers," 
 Farland told himself. "It looks to me as if she 
 had gone down to Honduras to look up Sid Prale 
 for some reason. And Honduras isn't exactly on the 
 health-trip list, either."
 
 120 THE BRAND OF SILENCE 
 
 He began a close inspection of the apartment, 
 leaving no trace of his search behind him, disarrang- 
 ing nothing that he did not replace. Jim Farland 
 was an expert at such things. 
 
 He ransacked a small desk that stood in one 
 corner of the living room and found a tablet of 
 writing paper similar to that upon which had been 
 written the anonymous messages Sidney Prale had 
 received. He found scraps of writing in the waste- 
 basket, too, and inspected them carefully. 
 
 "Somebody in this apartment wrote those notes, 
 all right," Farland mused. "But why? That's the 
 question I want answered, and I'll have to be care- 
 ful how I start in to find out. You can't bluff 
 that girl; one look is enough to tell me that. If 
 I jump her about those notes, she'll probably get 
 wise and cover her tracks, and then I'll be strictly 
 up against it." 
 
 He found nothing else of importance in the apart- 
 ment. There were some letters, but they seemed to 
 be from relatives scattered throughout the country, 
 ordinary letters dealing with family affairs of no 
 particular consequence, and they told Jim Farland 
 nothing that he wished to know. 
 
 But Kate Gilbert was only one angle of the case, 
 he reminded himself, and so he decided that he was 
 done for the present as far as she was concerned. 
 It would be only a waste of valuable time, he thought, 
 to remain longer in the Gilbert apartment; and there 
 were plenty of other things for him to be doing. 
 
 Farland went all over the apartment once more, 
 making sure that he was leaving everything in its
 
 CONCERNING KATE GILBERT 121 
 
 proper place, that there would be nothing to show 
 that anybody had been making an investigation there. 
 Then he hurried out and locked the door, returned the 
 keys to the old janitor, gave him another bill and 
 instructed him to forget the visit, lighted a black 
 cigar, and started walking rapidly southward. 
 
 When the proper time arrived, Jim Farland would 
 tell Miss Kate Gilbert that he knew she had written 
 the anonymous notes to Sidney Prale or that her 
 maid had and he would ask her why. 
 
 He reached Columbus Circle, made his way over 
 to Fifth Avenue, and continued his walk down that 
 broad thoroughfare. Farland had decided to go to 
 the hotel and have a talk with Sidney Prale and 
 Murk. He told himself that he was going to like 
 Murk, the human hulk who suddenly had become 
 of some use in the world. 
 
 But he did not get a chance to go to the hotel 
 just then. He came to a busy corner, and stopped 
 to wait for a chance to cross the street congested 
 with traffic. Suddenly, a few feet to his right, he 
 saw Kate Gilbert, who had left her apartment only a 
 short time before. 
 
 There was nothing startling in that fact alone, 
 for this was a district where there were fashionable 
 shops and beauty parlors, and well-dressed women 
 were on every side. 
 
 What interested Detective Jim Farland the most 
 was that Kate Gilbert was standing before the show 
 window of a fashionable shop in intimate conversa- 
 tion with George Lerton, Sidney Prale's cousin!
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 BATTERED KEYS 
 
 FARLAND started moving slowly toward them, 
 making his way through the crowd in such 
 fashion that he did not attract too much attention 
 to himself. He was feeling a sudden interest in 
 this case. There were great possibilities in the fact 
 that two persons connected with it from different 
 angles were in conversation. 
 
 As he made his way toward the show window, 
 he remembered how this George Lerton had tried 
 to induce Sidney Prale to leave the city and remain 
 away, and how, afterward, he had denied that he 
 had seen Prale on Fifth Avenue and had spoken to 
 him. 
 
 "He's connected with this thing in some way," 
 Farland told himself. "It's my job to discover ex- 
 actly how." 
 
 But he was doomed to be disappointed. Before 
 he could get near enough to make an attempt to 
 overhear what they were saying, they suddenly parted. 
 Kate Gilbert went into the shop, and George Lerton 
 crossed the street and hurried down the Avenue. 
 
 It was no use wasting time on Kate Gilbert. Far- 
 land knew where to find her if he wanted her, and 
 he knew there would be no use in shadowing her 
 now, since she probably had gone into the shop to
 
 BATTERED KEYS 123 
 
 purchase a hat. But George Lerton was quite an- 
 other matter. 
 
 The detective did not hesitate. He swung off 
 down Fifth Avenue in the wake of George Lerton. 
 
 Farland was a rough and ready man, and he had 
 little liking for male humans of the George Lerton 
 type. Lerton always dressed in the acme of fashion, 
 running considerably to fads in clothes, appearing 
 almost effeminate at times. And yet it was said 
 in financial circles that Lerton was far from being 
 effeminate when it came to a business deal. There 
 had been whispers about his dark methods, and it 
 was well known that a business foe got small sym- 
 pathy or consideration from him. He was a fash- 
 ionable cutthroat without any of the milk of human 
 kindness in his system. 
 
 It was a surprise to Jim Farland to see Lerton 
 walking. He was the sort of man who likes to 
 advertise his success, and he had a couple of im- 
 posing motor cars that he generally used. But 
 he was walking this morning, and the fact gave 
 Farland food for thought. 
 
 Lerton continued down the Avenue, and Jim Far- 
 land followed him closely. He expected to see Ler- 
 ton meet some one else and engage in another whis- 
 pered conversation, but Lerton did not. 
 
 "That boy is worried," Farland told himself. "He's 
 one of those birds who like to walk when they want 
 to think something out. If I could only know what 
 was going on in that mind of his " 
 
 Lerton had reached Madison Square, and there 
 he did something foreign to his nature. He crossed
 
 124 THE BRAND OF SILENCE 
 
 the Square, proceeded to Fourth Avenue, and de- 
 scended into the subway. 
 
 Farland was a few feet behind him, and got 
 into the same car when Lerton caught a downtown 
 train. He followed when Lerton got off and went 
 up to the street level again, and now the broker 
 made his way through the throngs and along the 
 narrow steets until he finally came to the financial 
 district. After a time he turned into the entrance 
 of an office building the building where his own 
 offices were located. 
 
 The detective watched him go up in the elevator, 
 and then he turned back to the cigar stand in the 
 lobby and purchased more of the black cigars he 
 loved. For a time he stood out at the curb, puffing 
 and thinking. He watched the building entrance 
 closely, but George Lerton did not come down again. 
 
 As a matter of fact, Farland scarcely had ex- 
 pected that he would. He believed that Lerton had 
 kept an appointment with Kate Gilbert, and then 
 had continued to his office to take up the work of 
 the day. Farland decided that he would give Lerton 
 a chance to attend to the morning mail and pressing 
 matters of business, before seeking an interview. 
 
 Finally, Farland threw the stub of the cigar away, 
 turned into the entrance of the building once more, 
 and walked briskly to the elevator. He shot up to 
 the tenth floor, went down the hall, and entered the 
 reception room of the Lerton offices. An imp of an 
 office boy took in his card. 
 
 "Mr. Lerton will see you in ten minutes, sir," 
 the returning boy announced.
 
 BATTERED KEYS 125 
 
 Farland touched match to another cigar. He was 
 a little surprised that Lerton had sent out that mes- 
 sage. Lerton knew Farland, as Sidney Prale had 
 known him in the old days. He knew Farland's 
 business, and he knew that the detective and Prale 
 were firm friends. He could guess that Prale had 
 engaged Jim Farland to work on this case and clear 
 him of the charge of having murdered Rufus Shepley. 
 
 After a time the boy ushered him into the private 
 office. George Lerton was sitting behind a gigantic 
 mahogany desk, looking very much the prosperous 
 man of business. 
 
 "Well, Farland, this is a pleasure!" Lerton ex- 
 claimed. "Haven't seen you for ages. How's 
 business?" 
 
 "It could be better," Jim Farland replied, "and 
 it could be a lot worse. I'm making a good living, 
 and so have no kick coming." 
 
 "If I ever need a man in your line, I'll call you 
 in," George Lerton said. "And the pay will be all 
 right, too." 
 
 "Don't doubt it," Farland replied. 
 
 "Want to see me about something special this 
 morning?" 
 
 "Yes, if you can give me a few minutes." 
 
 "All the time you like," Lerton replied. 
 
 That was not like the man, Jim Farland knew. 
 Lerton was the sort to try to make himself im- 
 portant, the always-busy man who had no time for 
 anybody less than a millionaire. 
 
 Farland smiled and sat down in a chair at one 
 end of the desk. He twisted his hat in his hands,
 
 126 THE BRAND OF SILENCE 
 
 looked across at George Lerton, cleared his throat, 
 and spoke. 
 
 "You know about Sidney Prale being in a bit of 
 trouble, of course?" 
 
 "Yes. Can't understand it," Lerton replied, frown- 
 ing. "Sidney always had a temper, of course, but 
 I never thought he would resort to murder during 
 a fit of it. You know, I never got along with him 
 any too well. He had a quarrel with his sweetheart 
 in the old days and left for Honduras twenty-four 
 hours later and remained there for ten years." 
 
 "I know all about that, of course," Farland said. 
 "You perhaps have guessed that he sent for me 
 engaged me to get him out of this little scrape." 
 
 "Murder, a little scrape?" Lerton gasped. "I 
 should call it a very serious matter." 
 
 "Let us hope that it will not be a serious matter 
 for Sid," Farland said with feeling. "I believe that 
 the boy is innocent, and I hope to be able to clear 
 him. Will you help me?" 
 
 "I never had any particular love for Sidney, and 
 neither did he for me," George Lerton said. "How- 
 ever, he is my cousin, and I hate to see him in 
 trouble. But how can I help you? I don't know 
 anything about the affair." 
 
 "An alibi is an important thing in a case like 
 this," Farland said. "We want to prove an alibi, 
 if we can, of course. Sidney says that you met him 
 on Fifth Avenue " 
 
 "And I cannot understand that," Lerton inter- 
 rupted. "Why should he say such a thing?" 
 
 "You didn't meet him?"
 
 BATTERED KEYS 127 
 
 "I certainly did not! I cannot lie about such a 
 thing, even to save my cousin. Why, it would 
 make me a sort of accessory, wouldn't it? I cannot 
 afford to be mixed up in anything of the sort. You 
 must understand that!" 
 
 "And you didn't urge him to leave New York 
 and remain away for the rest of his life?" 
 
 "I didn't see him at all," George Lerton persisted. 
 "Why on earth should I care whether he remains 
 in New York or takes his million dollars elsewhere?" 
 
 "I don't know, I'm sure," Farland said. "But 
 it seems peculiar to me that Sid would tell a rotten 
 falsehood like that. Doesn't it look peculiar to you?" 
 
 "I must confess that it does not," George Lerton 
 replied. "I suppose it was the first thing that came 
 into his head. He was trying to establish an alibi, 
 of course, and he probably thought he would get a 
 chance to telephone to me and ask me to stand by 
 the story he had told, thinking that I would do it 
 because of our relationship." 
 
 "I was hoping that you would tell me you had 
 met him on Fifth Avenue," Farland said. "It 
 would have made his alibi stronger, of course, and 
 every little bit helps." 
 
 "Stronger? You mean to say that he has any 
 sort of an alibi at all?" 
 
 "A dandy!" Farland exclaimed. "In fact, we have 
 an alibi that tells us that Sid was quite a distance 
 from Rufus Shepley's suite when Shepley was slain." 
 
 "Why, how is that?" 
 
 "Sid picked up a bum and tried to make a man 
 of him. He bought the fellow some clothes and
 
 128 THE BRAND OF SILENCE 
 
 took him to a barber shop. The clothing merchant 
 and the barber furnish the alibi." 
 
 An expression of consternation was in George 
 Lerton's face, and Jim Farland was quick to no- 
 tice it. 
 
 "Of course, I am glad for Sidney's sake," Lerton 
 said. "But I had really believed that he had killed 
 Shepley. It caused me a bit of trouble, too." 
 
 "How do you mean?" Farland asked. 
 
 "Shepley was a sort of client of mine," Lerton 
 said. "I handled a deal for him now and then. 
 He has been traveling on business for some time, 
 as you perhaps know. I had hopes that he would 
 give me a certain large commission and that I would 
 make a handsome profit. He was about convinced, 
 I am sure, that I was the man to handle it for him. 
 His small deals with me had always been to his 
 profit and my credit." 
 
 "Oh, I understand!" 
 
 "And a possible good customer is removed," Ler- 
 ton went on. "So you have an alibi for Sidney, 
 have you? In that case if he did not kill Rufus 
 Shepley he must have told that story about meeting 
 me when he was in a panic immediately following 
 his arrest. Sid always was panicky, you know." 
 
 "I didn't know that a panicky man could pick up a 
 million dollars in ten years." 
 
 "Oh, I suppose Sidney was fortunate. There 
 are wonderful opportunities at times in Central 
 America, and I suppose he happened to just strike 
 one of them right. He was very fortunate, indeed. 
 Not every man can have good luck like that."
 
 BATTERED KEYS 129 
 
 "Well, I'm sorry that I troubled you," Farland 
 said. "And now, I'll get out if you'll do me a 
 small favor." 
 
 "Anything, Farland." 
 
 "I see you have a typewriter in the corner, and 
 I'd like to write a short note to leave uptown." 
 
 "Just step outside and dictate it to one of my 
 stenographers," said George Lerton. 
 
 "That'd be too much trouble," Farland replied. 
 "It's only a few lines, and I can pound a typewriter 
 pretty good. Besides, this is a little confidential 
 report that I would not care to have your stenog- 
 rapher know anything about." 
 
 "Oh, I see! Help yourself!" 
 
 Farland got up and hurried over to the typewriter. 
 He put a sheet of paper in the machine, wrote a few 
 lines, folded the sheet and put it into his coat pocket. 
 
 "Well, I'm much obliged," he said. "I think we'll 
 have Sid out of trouble before long." 
 
 "Let us hope so!" George Lerton said. 
 
 There was something in the tone of his voice, 
 however, that belied the words he spoke. Farland 
 gave him a single, rapid glance, but the expression 
 of Lerton's face told him nothing. Lerton was a 
 broker and used to big business deals. He was a 
 master of the art of the blank countenance, and 
 Jim Farland knew it well. 
 
 Farland had said nothing concerning Kate Gilbert, 
 for he was not ready to let George Lerton know 
 that he suspected any connection of Miss Gilbert 
 with the Rufus Shepley case. Farland was not cer- 
 tain himself what that connection would be, and he
 
 130 THE BRAND OF SILENCE 
 
 knew it would be foolish to say anything that would 
 put Lerton on guard and make the mystery more 
 difficult of solution. 
 
 He thanked Lerton once more and departed. Out 
 in the corridor and some distance from the Lerton 
 office, he took from his pocket the note he had 
 written on Lerton's private typewriter and glanced 
 at it quickly. Farland was merely verifying what 
 he had noticed as he had typed the note. 
 
 "That was a lucky hunch about that typewriter," 
 he told himself. "This case is going to be inter- 
 esting, all right and for several persons." 
 
 Farland had noticed particularly the typewritten 
 notes that had been received by the clothing mer- 
 chant and the barber. There were two certain keys 
 that were battered in a peculiar manner, and another 
 key that was out of alignment. 
 
 He knew now, by glancing at the lines he had 
 written himself, that those other notes had been typed 
 on the same machine. He guessed that it had been 
 George Lerton, the broker, who had sent those notes 
 and the money to the barber and the merchant. 
 
 Why had George Lerton been so eager to destroy 
 his cousin's alibi? 
 
 Why was George Lerton trying to have Sidney 
 Prale sent to the electric chair for murder?
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 A PLAN OF CAMPAIGN 
 
 XTATURALLY, a man facing prosecution on a 
 * ^ murder charge is liable to be nervous, whether 
 he is innocent or not. If an attempt is being made 
 to gather evidence that will clear him, he wishes for 
 frequent reports, always hoping that there will be 
 some ray of hope. And so it was with Sidney Prale 
 this morning, as he paced the floor in the living room 
 of his suite in the hotel. 
 
 Murk had done everything possible to make Sidney 
 Prale comfortable. Now he merely stood to one side 
 and watched the man who had saved him from a 
 self-inflicted death, and tried to think of something 
 that he could say or do to make Prale easier in his 
 mind. 
 
 They had not seen or heard from Jim Farland 
 since the evening before, when he had engaged the 
 taxicab and had started in pursuit of the limousine 
 Kate Gilbert had entered. Prale wondered what Far- 
 land had been doing, whether he had discovered any- 
 thing concerning Kate Gilbert, whether he had found 
 a clew that would lead to an unraveling of the 
 mystery. 
 
 "Are you sure about that Farland man, Mr. 
 Prale?" Murk asked, after a time. 
 
 "What do you mean by that, Murk?"
 
 132 THE BRAND OF SILENCE 
 
 "Well, he's a kind of cop, and I never had much 
 faith in cops," said Murk. 
 
 "Farland is an old friend of mine, Murk, and he 
 is on the square if that is what you mean." 
 
 "He sure started out like a house afire, sir, but 
 he seems to be fallin' down now," Murk declared. 
 "He sure did handle that barber and the clothin' 
 merchant, but he ain't showed us any speed since he 
 left us last night." 
 
 "He is busy somewhere you may be sure of 
 that," Sidney Prale declared. 
 
 "Well, boss, I ain't got any education, and I ain't 
 an expert in any particular line, but I've often been 
 accused of havin' common sense, and I'm strong 
 for you!" 
 
 "Meaning what, Murk?" 
 
 "Nothin', boss, except that I'd like to be busy 
 gettin' you out of this mess. Seems to me I know 
 just as much about it as you do, and if we'd talk 
 matters over, maybe I'd get some sort of an idea, 
 or somethin' like that." 
 
 Prale sat down before the window, lighted a cigar, 
 and looked up at Murk. 
 
 "Go ahead," he said. "It won't hurt anything, 
 and it will serve to kill time until we hear from 
 Jim Farland. What do you want to talk about first?" 
 
 "It seems to me," said Murk, clearing his throat 
 and attempting to speak in an impressive manner, 
 "that this is a double-barreled affair." 
 
 "What do you mean?" Prale asked. 
 
 "Well, there's the murder thing, and then there's 
 this thing about you havin' some powerful and secret
 
 A PLAN OF CAMPAIGN 133 
 
 enemies that are tryin' to do you dirt without even 
 comin' out in the open about it. Maybe them two 
 things are mixed together, and maybe again they 
 ain't. If they ain't, we've got two jobs on our 
 hands." 
 
 "And, if they are?" Prale asked. 
 
 "Then it looks to me, boss, like the gang that's 
 after you is tryin' to hang this murder on you after 
 havin' had somebody croak that Shepley guy." 
 
 "I've thought of that, Murk. But it doesn't look 
 possible," Prale said. "If my enemies merely wanted 
 to hang a murder charge on me, as you have sug- 
 gested, I think they would have planned better and 
 would have made the evidence against me more con- 
 clusive. It would mean that there would be a lot 
 of persons in the secret; the men who plan murder 
 do not like to take the entire town into confidence 
 about it." 
 
 "Well, that sounds reasonable," Murk admitted. 
 
 "And why Rufus Shepley?" 
 
 "Because you had that spat with him in the lobby 
 of the hotel, and it could be shown that you had a 
 reason for knifin' him," Murk said, with evident 
 satisfaction. 
 
 "Nobody could have known I was going to have 
 that quarrel with Shepley, because I had no idea of 
 it myself when I entered the hotel lobby," Prale 
 said. "After I left the hotel, I met Farland and 
 then walked down to the river and met you and 
 you know the rest. How could they have contem- 
 plated hanging that crime on me when they did not
 
 134 THE BRAND OF SILENCE 
 
 know but that I had a perfect alibi? I think we're 
 on the wrong track, Murk." 
 
 "Well, boss, how about your fountain pen?" Murk 
 asked. "How come it was found beside the body?" 
 
 "That is one of the biggest puzzles in the whole 
 thing, Murk. I cannot remember exactly when I 
 had the pen last. I cannot imagine how it got into 
 Shepley's room and on the floor beside his body. 
 That fountain pen of mine is an important factor in 
 this case, Murk, and it has me worried." 
 
 "It seems to me," Murk said, "that if I had any 
 powerful enemies after my scalp, I'd know the birds 
 and be watchin' out for them all the time, to see 
 that they didn't start anything when I was lookin' 
 in the other direction." 
 
 "But, Murk, I haven't the slightest idea who they 
 are," Sidney Prale declared. "I don't know why I 
 should have enemies that amount to anything, and 
 that is what makes it so puzzling. How can I work 
 this thing out when I don't even know where to 
 start? I wish Jim Farland would come." 
 
 Jim Farland did, at that moment. Murk let him 
 in, and the detective tossed his hat on a chair, sat 
 down in another, lighted one of his own black cigars, 
 and looked at Sidney Prale through narrowed eyes. 
 
 "Well, Jim?" Prale asked. 
 
 "I talk when I've really got something to say, 
 but I'm not going to make general conversation and 
 muddle your brains with a lot of scattered junk," Jim 
 Farland replied. "I'll say this much things are 
 looking much better for you."
 
 A PLAN OF CAMPAIGN 135 
 
 "That sounds good, Jim. Can't you tell me any- 
 thing?" Prale asked, sitting forward on his chair. 
 
 "The barber and the clothing merchant have fixed 
 up a part of your alibi, Sid, as perhaps Murk has 
 told you. That is the first point. It makes it look 
 impossible for you to have slain Rufus Shepley, and 
 I think Lawyer Coadley could get the charge against 
 you dismissed on that alone." 
 
 "But I want to be entirely cleared." 
 
 "Exactly. You don't want to leave the slightest 
 doubt in the mind of a single person. There is but 
 one way to clear you absolutely, Sid. We've got to 
 show conclusively that you could not have killed 
 Shepley, and the best way to do that is to find the 
 person who did." 
 
 "I understand, Jim." 
 
 "There seems to be some sort of a mysterious 
 alliance against you, Sid. You say that you can't 
 understand why you should have enemies that hate 
 you so, and I know you're telling the truth. Whether 
 that business has anything to do with the murder, 
 or not, I am not prepared to say now. But we want 
 to find out about this enemy business, too, don't we?" 
 
 "Certainly," Prale said. 
 
 "I followed Kate Gilbert. I know where she lives. 
 She does not belong to a rich family and does not 
 live in splendor. But she wears expensive gowns 
 and has plenty of spending money, and has mys- 
 terious dealings with a distinguished-looking man. 
 Her father is mixed up in it in some way, too. I 
 went through their apartment, Sid. Somebody in
 
 136 THE BRAND OF SILENCE 
 
 that apartment wrote the anonymous notes you re- 
 ceived." 
 
 "What?" Prale gasped. 
 
 "I found a tablet of the same sort of paper, and 
 scraps of writing in the wastebasket that were in 
 the same hand. Think, Sid! On the ship " 
 
 "By George!" Prale exclaimed. "She could have 
 slipped into my stateroom and pinned that note to 
 my pillow, and she could have stuck the second one 
 on my suit case as I walked past her on the deck." 
 
 "And could have sent the others," Farland added. 
 
 "But, why?" Prale demanded. "I never saw the 
 woman until I met her at a social affair in Honduras. 
 What could she or any of her people have against 
 me?" 
 
 "Perhaps it was the maid," Farland said. 
 
 "She could have done it, of course, the same as 
 Kate Gilbert," Prale said. "But the same difficulty 
 holds good why? Kate Gilbert did seem to avoid 
 me, and I caught her big maid glaring at me once 
 or twice as if she hated the sight of me. But 
 why on earth " 
 
 Farland cleared his throat. "Here is another 
 thought for you to digest," he said. "This Kate 
 Gilbert knows your cousin, George Lerton." 
 
 Sidney Prale suddenly sat up straight in his chair 
 again, his eyes blinking rapidly. 
 
 "Doesn't that open up possibilities?" Jim Farland 
 asked him. "The woman seems to be working 
 against you for some reason, and we know that 
 George Lerton lied about meeting you on Fifth
 
 A PLAN OF CAMPAIGN 137 
 
 Avenue that night. It appears that he is working 
 against you, too, for some mysterious motive." 
 
 A dangerous gleam came into Sidney Prale's eyes. 
 "That simplifies matters," he said. "I'll watch for 
 Kate Gilbert, and when I see her I'll ask why she 
 sent me those notes. Then I'll get George Lerton 
 alone and choke out of him why he lied about meet- 
 ing me on the Avenue. I've trimmed worse men than 
 George Lerton." 
 
 "You'll be a good little boy and do nothing of 
 the sort," Farland told him. "We are playing a 
 double game, remember trying to solve this enemy 
 business, and at the same time trying to clear you 
 of a murder charge. If any of those persons get 
 the idea that we are unduly interested in them, we 
 may not have such an easy time of it." 
 
 "I understand that, of course." 
 
 "Let me tell you a few more things, Sid. I saw 
 Lerton talking to Miss Gilbert on the street. They 
 were speaking in very low tones. When they parted, 
 I followed Lerton to his office, and went in and 
 talked to him. I did it just to size him up. He 
 still declares that he never met you on Fifth Avenue. 
 He acts like a man afraid of something; and I 
 discovered an interesting thing, Sid. He has a type- 
 writer in his private office, one for his personal use. 
 I managed to type a short note on it." 
 
 "What of that?" 
 
 "That typewriter has a few bad keys, Sid. And 
 I discovered this that the notes sent to the barber 
 and merchant, that caused them to lie and try to
 
 138 THE BRAND OF SILENCE 
 
 smash your alibi, were written on the typewriter in 
 George Lerton's office!" 
 
 Prale sprang to his feet. "Then Lerton has some- 
 thing to do with this!" he cried. "He tried to get 
 me to leave town, and he tried to break down my 
 alibi. How did he know I was going to make an 
 alibi like that?" 
 
 "My guess is that your cousin has been having 
 you watched since you got off the ship." 
 
 "But, why?" Prale cried. "It is true that he 
 married the girl who had jilted me a few years 
 before, but I do not hold that against him. I know 
 of no reason why he should work against me so." 
 
 "Know anything about him that might cause him 
 serious trouble if you talked?" 
 
 "No," Prale replied. "As much as I dislike him, 
 as much as I suspect that he is crooked in business, 
 all that I really could say would be that he had a 
 mean disposition and was not to be trusted too far." 
 
 "I thought maybe you had something on him, 
 and he was trying to get you out of the way so 
 you'd not talk," Farland said. "That would explain a 
 lot, of course." 
 
 "It can't be that." 
 
 "Then we are up in the air again." 
 
 "Why not ask him?" Prale demanded. "Believe 
 me, I'll wait for him to come from his office and 
 he'll answer me, and tell the truth!" 
 
 "Put that hot head of yours under the nearest 
 cold-water faucet!" Farland commanded. "You make 
 a move that I don't sanction, and I'll quit the case!
 
 A PLAN OF CAMPAIGN 139 
 
 You'll spoil things, Sid, if you're not careful. Just 
 digest what I have told you." 
 
 "You're in command, Jim!" 
 
 "Very well. You leave George Lerton to me, 
 Sid. There are many angles to this case, and I 
 can't attend to all of them at once. I don't want 
 to call in other detectives, because they may be in 
 the pay of these mysterious enemies of yours, and 
 I haven't an assistant with an ounce of brains. Sid, 
 you've got to turn detective yourself you and 
 Murk." 
 
 "I was just wonderin' if I was goin' to get a 
 chance to do anything," Murk said. 
 
 "Plenty of chances," Farland replied. "Sid, you 
 pick up this Kate Gilbert, if you can. Act as if you 
 did not suspect a thing. Try to talk to her you 
 were introduced to her in Honduras, and all that. 
 Don't let her get nervous about you, but watch her 
 as much as you can, and let me know everything 
 you see and hear. Take a look at that big maid, 
 Marie, when you get a chance. If you can do so, 
 and think it advisable, put Murk on Marie's trail. 
 I'll want to use Murk later myself." 
 
 Sidney Prale was quick to agree. And thus, with- 
 out being aware of it, he started on a short career 
 of adventure and romance. 
 
 Had Murk been a crystal gazer or something of 
 the sort, and could he have looked into the future 
 in that manner, he would have said that the crystal 
 lied.
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 MORE MYSTERY 
 
 JIM FARLAND went from the hotel to Coadley's 
 office, to ascertain whether the attorney's private 
 investigators, who were working independently of 
 him, had unearthed anything of importance in con- 
 nection with the case. 
 
 Sidney Prale stated that he would go for a walk, 
 and the police detective, now thoroughly convinced 
 that he would not try to run away, raised no ob- 
 jection. It was Prale's intention to make an attempt 
 to meet Kate Gilbert. Murk hurried around getting 
 his coat and hat and gloves and stick. 
 
 "Fool idea!" Prale told himself. "Kate Gilbert 
 has given me the cold shoulder already, and she cer- 
 tainly will do it now, since I stand accused of mur- 
 der. Not a chance in the world of getting better 
 acquainted with her now." 
 
 "What do you want me to do, boss?" Murk asked. 
 "I don't seem to be amountin' to much in this game. 
 I'd like to be in action, I would! Can't I take a 
 hand?" 
 
 "As soon as possible," Prale told him. "Remember, 
 Farland said he wanted you to help him later." 
 
 "I'd rather help you or work alone," Murk said. 
 "I reckon he is pretty decent for a detective, but 
 I don't put much stock in any of 'em."
 
 MORE MYSTERY 141 
 
 Prale laughed as he finished dressing, put on his 
 hat and gloves, and reached for his stick. 
 
 "Suppose you just shadow me this fine day," he 
 told Murk. "Get a little practice in that line. Don't 
 bother me, but just follow and watch." 
 
 "I getcha, boss. You want me to be within hailin' 
 distance in case you need help?" 
 
 "Exactly, Murk. We never can tell what is going 
 to happen, you know. I may need you in a hurry." 
 
 "I'll be on hand," Murk promised. 
 
 Sidney Prale went down in the elevator, Murk 
 going down in the same car. Prale lounged about 
 the lobby for a time, and Murk made himself as 
 inconspicuous as possible in a corner. Prale believed, 
 as Farland had intimated, that he was being fol- 
 lowed and watched, possibly by the orders of George 
 Lerton, his cousin. He did not know why Lerton 
 should have done it, but it angered him, and he 
 wanted to discover the man following him. 
 
 He saw nobody in the lobby who appeared at all 
 conspicuous, and after a short time he left and 
 started walking briskly down the Avenue, like any 
 gentleman taking a constitutional. The midday 
 throngs were on the streets. Prale was forced to 
 walk slower, and now and then he stopped to look 
 in at a shop window. Once in a while he stepped 
 to the curb and glanced behind. But if there was 
 a "shadow" Prale did not see him. 
 
 He did see Murk, however, and he smiled at 
 Murk's methods. Murk remained a short distance 
 behind him, moving up closer whenever Prale was 
 forced to cross the street, so he would not lose him
 
 142 THE BRAND OF SILENCE 
 
 in the throng. Murk was ordinary-looking and had 
 a happy faculty of effacing himself in a crowd. He 
 was on the job every minute, watching Sidney Prale, 
 glancing at every man or woman who approached 
 Prale or as much as looked at him. 
 
 Prale reached Forty-second Street, crossed it, and 
 came opposite the library. He glanced aside and 
 saw Miss Kate Gilbert walking down the wide steps. 
 
 It was a ticklish moment for Sidney Prale, but he 
 remembered that he was fighting to protect himself. 
 If Kate Gilbert ignored him, he could not help it. 
 At least, he would give her the chance. 
 
 She could not avoid seeing him, for they met 
 face to face at the bottom of the steps. Prale lifted 
 his hat. 
 
 "Good morning, Miss Gilbert," he said. 
 
 She turned and met his eyes squarely, and he could 
 see that she hesitated for a moment. Then her face 
 brightened, and she stepped toward him. 
 
 "Good morning," she replied. "Although it is a 
 little after noon, I am afraid." 
 
 Her words might have been for the benefit of 
 any who heard. They were light enough and cordial 
 enough, but she did not offer him her hand, and 
 the expression on her face was scarcely one of 
 welcome. 
 
 "I am glad to see you again," Prale said. 
 
 "You are settled and feeling at home?" 
 
 "In a measure," he said. 
 
 She had not mentioned the crime of which he 
 was accused, and he did not wish to be the first 
 to speak of it. She stepped still closer.
 
 MORE MYSTERY 143 
 
 "I want to talk to you, Mr. Prale," she said. 
 "Kindly get a taxi and have the chauffeur drive us 
 through the Park." 
 
 Prale scarcely could believe his good fortune. He 
 had doubted whether he would have a chance to 
 talk to her, and here she was asking him to engage 
 a taxicab so that they could enjoy a conversation. 
 
 He hailed a passing taxi, put her in, gave the 
 chauffeur his directions, and sprang in himself. The 
 machine turned at the first corner and started back 
 up the Avenue in the heavy traffic. 
 
 "You wished to speak to me about something in 
 particular?" Prale asked. 
 
 "Yes. I have read of the crime of which you are 
 accused. I am sure that you are not guilty." 
 
 "Thank you, Miss Gilbert. I assure you that I 
 am not. It is an unfortunate affair, which we hope 
 to have cleared up within a short time." 
 
 "I hope that you will be free soon," she said. 
 "And then you will be able to enjoy yourself, I 
 suppose." 
 
 "I hope to have my vacation yet," Prale said. 
 
 "You are going to remain in New York?" 
 
 "Certainly; it is my home." 
 
 "Sometimes a man does better away from home." 
 
 "But I have been away from home for ten years. 
 I have made my pile, as the saying is, and have 
 come home to show off and lord it over my neigh- 
 bors," Prale replied, laughing. 
 
 They had reached the lower end of Central Park 
 now, and the taxi turned into a driveway, and made 
 its way around the curves toward the upper end.
 
 144 THE BRAND OF SILENCE 
 
 The chauffeur was busy nodding to others of his 
 craft and paying no attention to his fares. Sweet- 
 hearts, he supposed, talking silly nothings as they 
 were driven through the Park. The chauffeur was 
 used to such; he hauled many of them. 
 
 Kate Gilbert leaned a bit closer to Prale, and 
 when she spoke it was in a low, tense voice. 
 
 "Go away from New York, Mr. Prale!" 
 
 "Why should I do that?" he asked. 
 
 "It would be better for you, I feel sure." 
 
 "Because of the absurd charge against me? I 
 intend to have my innocence proved, and I'd hate 
 to run away and let people think that perhaps I 
 was guilty after all." 
 
 "You have the right to prove your innocence of 
 such a charge to all the world," she said. "But, 
 after you have done it conclusively, you should go 
 away." 
 
 "Why?" he asked, again. 
 
 "Because you have enemies, Mr. Prale!" 
 
 "I have discovered that; but I do not know why 
 I should have enemies." 
 
 "Perhaps you did something, some time, to create 
 them." 
 
 "But I haven't," Prale declared. 
 
 "Retribution comes when we least expect it, Mr. 
 Prale." 
 
 "Yes. I believe that you wrote that in one of 
 your notes." 
 
 He had said it! And Jim Farland had told him 
 not to let her suspect that they knew. Well, he 
 couldn't help it now.
 
 MORE MYSTERY 145 
 
 Kate Gilbert gasped and sat back from him. 
 
 "In my note?" she said. 
 
 "The notes interested me greatly, Miss Gilbert. I 
 have saved them. But why should you send them 
 to me?" 
 
 "You can ask me that!" she exclaimed. "So you 
 know that I wrote them, do you? In that case, 
 Mr. Prale, you know why I spoke of retribution, 
 you probably know my identity and intentions, and 
 you know why you have enemies!" 
 
 "But I do not!" he protested. 
 
 "Please do not attempt to tell a falsehood, Mr. 
 Prale. You know I wrote the notes, do you? Then 
 you know everything else. So you are going to 
 fight." 
 
 "I fail to understand all this." 
 
 "Another falsehood!" she cried. "I have asked 
 you to leave New York and " 
 
 "And I fail to see why I should." 
 
 "Then remain and receive the retribution!" she 
 said. "You will deserve all you get, Sidney Prale! 
 When I think of what you have done " 
 
 She ceased speaking, and turned to glance through 
 the window. 
 
 "You were kind enough to say that you believed 
 me innocent of the murder charge " 
 
 "I do. I hate to have you facing a thing like 
 that when you are innocent. But this other thing 
 
 "Can't you explain? I give you my word of honor 
 that I do not understand this." 
 
 "Your word of honor!" she sneered, facing him
 
 146 THE BRAND OF SILENCE 
 
 again. "You speak of honor you? That is the 
 best jest of all!" 
 
 Sidney Prale's face flushed. 
 
 "I had hoped that I was a man of honor," he 
 said. "I always have tried to be honorable in my 
 dealings with men and women, all my life. Please 
 understand that, Miss Gilbert." 
 
 "If you have tried, you have failed miserably. 
 Why do you persist in telling falsehoods, Mr. Prale. 
 Do you think that I am a weak, silly woman ready 
 to be hoodwinked by lies?" 
 
 "But I assure you " 
 
 "I do not care for any of your assurances," she 
 interrupted. "I wish it understood that we are 
 strangers hereafter. You are going to fight, are you? 
 Fight, Sidney Prale and lose! What I said was 
 correct you cannot dodge retribution. It will take 
 more than a million dollars to be able to do that." 
 
 "My dear young lady " 
 
 "I am done, Mr. Prale. I have said all that I 
 intend saying to you." 
 
 "Then it is my turn to talk!" Prale said. "This 
 thing is getting to be so serious that I demand an 
 explanation. Why should you, and others, be so 
 eager to run me out of New York?" 
 
 "Others?" 
 
 "Yes particularly one man we both know." 
 
 "His name, please?" 
 
 "Why ask, Miss Gilbert?" 
 
 "Very well." 
 
 "Why do you want me to run away?" 
 
 "I did not know that others were trying to get
 
 MORE MYSTERY 147 
 
 you to leave," she said. "I suggested it because 
 well, because I am a woman, I suppose. You deserve 
 the worst that can happen to you. But a woman 
 has a kind thought now and then. I hate to see 
 any man ground down and down, no matter how 
 much he deserves it and that is what is to happen 
 to you if you do not go away. If you leave, your 
 enemies will not use such harsh measures, perhaps. 
 But when you are here before their very eyes, they 
 will lift their hands against you!" 
 
 "Who are these enemies, and why are they after 
 my scalp?" 
 
 "You know, Sidney Prale, as well as I. I can 
 see that it is useless to talk to you. I am sorry that 
 I had a moment's compassion and made the attempt. 
 Please stop the cab and let me out here." 
 
 "But I demand to know " 
 
 "Do as I say, or I shall make a scene!" 
 
 Prale gave the signal, and the taxi stopped. He 
 helped her out, and she started briskly down the 
 nearest path. Sidney Prale paid the chauffeur, and 
 started to follow. 
 
 He glanced back, and saw Murk getting out of 
 another taxicab. He had forgotten Murk in his in- 
 terest in the conversation with Kate Gilbert. But 
 Murk had not forgotten. Murk had his orders, and 
 he was carrying them out; he was keeping in sight, 
 to be on hand if he was needed. 
 
 Murk had a little money Prale had given him, 
 enough to pay the taxi chauffeur. Prale motioned 
 for him to approach.
 
 148 THE BRAND OF SILENCE 
 
 "Here's a roll of bills," he said. "Keep up the 
 game, Murk. Don't get too far away." 
 
 "I'll be right at your heels, boss." 
 
 "And keep your eyes open." 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 "That woman was Kate Gilbert." 
 
 "Then I'll know her whenever I see her again, sir. 5 ' 
 
 Prale hurried on down the path. Murk kept pace 
 with him, a short distance behind. 
 
 Kate Gilbert had been walking swiftly. She had 
 reached the street, and, as Prale watched, she crossed 
 it. Prale followed. 
 
 The girl did not look behind. She came to the 
 middle of the block and ran up the steps of an apart- 
 ment house. Prale passed the entrance, glanced at 
 the number, and continued down the street. At the 
 corner he allowed Murk to catch up with him. 
 
 "She turned in at the address Jim Farland gave 
 us," Prale said. "She has gone home, Murk. I 
 fancy that we are done with her for to-day!" 
 
 A lot he knew about it!
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 A MOMENT OF VIOLENCE 
 
 SIDNEY PRALE turned around and walked back 
 along the street to the Park, Murk once more 
 following at a short distance, as he had been ordered 
 to do. 
 
 Because he wanted to think of his predicament, 
 Prale crossed into the Park and began following one 
 of the paths toward the south, making his way along 
 it slowly, paying little attention to the persons he 
 passed now and then. 
 
 He crossed a drive and followed another path; 
 and now he came to a secluded spot where the path 
 was hidden from passers-by on the other walks and 
 drives. Here the way ran through a tiny gulch, the 
 sides of which were banked with bushes. Squirrels 
 scampered and birds chattered at him, but Prale saw 
 none of them. 
 
 He was trying to explain to himself why Kate Gil- 
 bert had warned him to leave New York, why she 
 had interested herself in his affairs at all, asking 
 himself for the thousandth time what species of net 
 it was in which he suddenly had found himself en- 
 meshed without knowing the reason for it. 
 
 He had demanded information and it had not 
 been given him. She had said nothing at all that 
 gave him an inkling as to the nature of what seemed
 
 150 THE BRAND OF SILENCE 
 
 to be a plot against him. He had been as firm as he 
 dared, he told himself. A man could not threaten a 
 woman, could not use violence in an attempt to make 
 her speak and reveal secrets. 
 
 "We'll have to work from another corner," Sidney 
 Prale told himself. "I can't threaten a woman, but 
 I can pummel a man; and if I meet George Lerton 
 again, I am liable to forget what Jim Farland told 
 me and use my own methods." 
 
 He walked on through the tiny ravine. He came 
 to a cross path, and a man lurched down it and 
 against him. 
 
 "Beg pardon!" Prale murmured. 
 
 "Wonder you wouldn't look where you're going!" 
 the other exclaimed. "Got an idea you own the 
 whole Park, or something like that? Men like you 
 shouldn't be running around loose!" 
 
 "You ran into me, not I into you," Prale reminded 
 him. 
 
 As he spoke, he looked at the other closely. He 
 saw a gigantic man who had the general appearance 
 of a thug, whose chin was thrust forward aggres- 
 sively, and whose hands were opening and closing as 
 if he wished they were around Sidney Prale's throat. 
 
 "I've a notion to smash you one!" the fellow said, 
 advancing toward Prale a bit. 
 
 Prale's temper flamed at once. His own chin was 
 shot forward, and his own hands closed. 
 
 "If that is the way you feel about it, start in!" 
 Prale said. "Perhaps I can teach you to act decently 
 and keep a civil tongue in your head!" 
 
 The man before him made no comment he sim-
 
 A MOMENT OF VIOLENCE 151 
 
 ply launched himself forward like a thunderbolt. 
 Sidney Prale darted quickly to one side, and tossed 
 his hat and stick on the ground. He did not have 
 time to get off his coat; he could not even remove 
 his gloves. 
 
 The other, missing him in that first rush, turned 
 and came back, swinging his fists. Prale did not 
 dart aside now. He put himself on guard, braced 
 himself against the side of the little gulch, and waited 
 for the attack. 
 
 They clashed, and Prale knew that he had a real 
 fight on his hands, for the man who had attacked 
 him was no mean antagonist. But, after the first real 
 clash, Prale had no fear of the outcome. The man 
 was brutal, but he had no skill. He delivered blows 
 that would have felled any one but they did not 
 reach their objective. 
 
 Then a second man crashed down through the 
 brush and joined in the attack. Sidney Prale realized 
 in that moment that the attack had been premeditated 
 and the fight forced upon him purposely. It fed fuel 
 to the flames of his wrath. He did not know whether 
 this was the work of some of his unknown enemies 
 or whether these thugs were mere robbers intent 
 upon getting his wallet and watch. It made little 
 difference to him which they were. 
 
 With his back against the side of the gulch, he 
 fought with what skill he could, trying to stand off 
 both of them. The attack had come with a rush, 
 and all this had occupied but a few seconds. 
 
 Presently a human whirlwind appeared and took 
 part in the battle. There was an angry roar from a
 
 152 THE BRAND OF SILENCE 
 
 human throat, a raucous curse, a rushing body, the 
 thuds of swift, hard blows. Mr. Murk had reached 
 the scene! 
 
 The battle immediately became two-fold. Murk 
 fought as these thugs fought, disregarding the finer 
 rules of combat, seeking only to put his opponent 
 out, no matter by what means. Murk was not un- 
 accustomed to fighting of that character, and he was 
 doubly formidable now, for he was angry at the at- 
 tack on Sidney Prale. Murk had been too far away 
 to hear what had been said when the trouble started, 
 but he had seen, and he guessed immediately that 
 some of Sidney Prale's enemies were engaged in the 
 attempt. 
 
 Murk went after his opponent with determination 
 if not with skill. He fought him down the path, 
 and there the fellow rallied from the surprise and 
 rushed back. But Murk was not the sort to give 
 ground. In a fight, a man should stand up to an- 
 other until one of them was whipped, Murk thought. 
 
 He knew how to give blows, but not how to 
 guard against them. He was marked, and marked 
 well, before the battle was a minute old, but he had 
 the satisfaction of seeing blood on the face of his 
 antagonist. Foot to foot they stood and hammered 
 each other, and gradually Murk began wearing the 
 other man down. 
 
 As for Sidney Prale, now that he had but the one 
 thug against him, he fought with skill and cunning, 
 knowing that the other was a bit the stronger, but 
 realizing that he would be victor if he used reason- 
 able care.
 
 A MOMENT OF VIOLENCE 153 
 
 His flare of anger had passed, and now he was 
 fighting like a clever pugilist. He warded off the 
 other's powerful blows, and now and then he 
 slipped beneath a guard, or smashed his way through 
 one, and sent home a blow of his own. 
 
 At the end of three minutes, the thugs were get- 
 ting much the worst of it. Gradually they were be- 
 ing fought back toward the nearest driveway. Back 
 and back they went, but did not turn and run. Sid- 
 ney Prale sensed that they were fighting for money, 
 that they were being paid for this attack, and he 
 realized that, but for the presence of Murk, he would 
 have had no chance whatever, and probably would be 
 a senseless, bleeding thing now. 
 
 None of them knew that the fight had attracted 
 attention, but it had. Two women, coming around 
 a curve in the path, had seen it, and had run back 
 toward the nearest driveway, screeching. Two 
 mounted policemen hurried toward them, heard the 
 story, and charged down the path. 
 
 The two thugs made no effort to escape. They 
 stopped fighting, and Prale and Murk ceased also, 
 though the latter was eager to continue until a de- 
 cision had been rendered. Murk had fought often 
 where there was no interference and he disliked to 
 be bothered now, but he desisted at Prale's command. 
 
 "Well, what's all this about?" one of the officers 
 demanded. He did not address any of them par- 
 ticularly. "I was walking along the path, and these 
 men attacked me," Sidney Prale said. "My valet 
 was a short distance behind and he came to my as- 
 sistance. I never saw these fellows before."
 
 154 THE BRAND OF SILENCE 
 
 "Nothin' like it!" one of the thugs snarled. "Me 
 and my pal were walkin' along this path and met 
 these men, and the one with the stick ordered us out 
 of the way as if we were dogs. When we didn't 
 move quick enough, they jumped into us." 
 
 "That's a lie " Murk began. 
 
 "You can settle this at the station," the officer 
 replied. "All of you come along with us!" 
 
 Prale picked up his hat and stick, took off his torn 
 gloves and threw them away, and motioned for 
 Murk to walk at his side and to keep quiet. They 
 went to the driveway and along it, the policemen 
 watching the four of them closely, the thugs growl- 
 ing to each other and remarking that it was a fine 
 day when honest workingmen could not stroll in 
 Central Park without a dude and his valet trying to 
 beat them up. 
 
 There was a short wait when the station was 
 reached, and then, at the lieutenant's command, one 
 of the thugs poured forth his story. He gave his 
 name and address, as did the other, and both made 
 the statement that they were out of work at present. 
 
 Prale stepped forward and gave his name. The 
 lieutenant stared at him in surprise. 
 
 "Why, it's the guy who croaked that man Shep- 
 ley!" one of the thugs cried. "There ought to be a 
 way of stoppin' him runnin' around and assaultin* 
 and killin' folks. If it hadn't been for the cops 
 
 "Shut up!" Sidney Prale commanded loudly, ig- 
 noring the presence of the officers. "You fellows 
 made a deliberate attack on me and you know it.
 
 A MOMENT OF VIOLENCE 155 
 
 And I want to know who paid you to do it under- 
 stand?" 
 
 "You're crazy!" said one of the thugs. 
 
 Prale turned to the lieutenant. "I'd like to have 
 Jim Farland sent for," he said. "He has been 
 handling things for me. I want him to investigate 
 these men. I have an idea that the names and ad- 
 dresses they gave are fictitious. Recently enemies of 
 mine have caused me considerable trouble, and I feel 
 sure that these men were hired to attack me. For- 
 tunately, my valet was walking a short distance be- 
 hind me, and rushed up and helped me hold them 
 off." 
 
 "I'm ready to put up bail, and so is my pal!" said 
 one of the thugs angrily. 
 
 "In that case, I'll have to let you go for the pres- 
 ent," the lieutenant said. "The charge is fighting 
 and disorderly conduct, and bail will be one hundred 
 dollars in each case. You may use the telephone if 
 you wish, Mr. Prale." 
 
 Prale hurried to the telephone, called Jim Farland's 
 office, and was informed that Farland had not been 
 there, and that the girl in charge did not know where 
 he was, or what he was doing, or when he would 
 return. Prale left instructions for Farland and went 
 back to the desk. 
 
 "This is a serious business, though it may not 
 look like it on the face," he said. "I'd like to have 
 these men held until we can make sure they have 
 given correct names and addresses." 
 
 "No use holding them if they have given bail," the
 
 156 THE BRAND OF SILENCE 
 
 lieutenant replied. "I think it's nothing but a regular 
 scrap. You can talk to the judge later, all of you." 
 
 Prale took a roll of bills from his pocket and put 
 up cash bail for both Murk and himself. One of 
 the thugs followed suit and pulling out a roll of bills, 
 stripped off two hundred dollars, and arranged for 
 the release of himself and his partner. 
 
 "You seem to have a lot of money for men who 
 are out of work," Prale said. 
 
 "Been savin' it, and it's none of your business 
 anyway," growled the other. 
 
 They started toward the door, and Prale and Murk 
 followed them, watched them until they started away, 
 and then turned back to bathe their faces and hands. 
 Then Prale got a taxicab, and drove to the office of 
 a physician, who did his best to make the counte- 
 nances of Prale and Murk presentable. 
 
 It was an hour later when Jim Farland called Prale 
 by telephone at the hotel. 
 
 "I've investigated that little matter, Sid," he re- 
 ported. "Those fellows gave fictitious addresses, as 
 you supposed they had done, and it is an even bet 
 that the names they gave were fictitious, too. No 
 doubt about it, Sid they were hired to get you. 
 You'd better be on guard and a bit careful."
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 MURK RECEIVES A BLOW. 
 
 AN hour before dinner, Detective Jim Farland 
 suddenly appeared in Sidney Prale's suite at the 
 hotel. 
 
 "They are working on me now, Sid," he said. "I 
 got a telephone message when I was in the office, 
 and the gent at the other end of the line informed 
 me that it would be beneficial to my health if I im- 
 mediately ceased having anything to do with the 
 Rufus Shepley murder case and stopped working for 
 you." 
 
 "Any idea where the message came from?" Prale 
 asked. 
 
 "It came from a public pay station in the subway. 
 I had the call traced immediately, of course. No 
 chance of rinding out who sent it, naturally. I doubt 
 whether I'd recognize the voice if I heard it again 
 could tell by the way the fellow talked that he was 
 trying to disguise his tones. I told him to go to 
 blazes, and he informed me that I was up against 
 something too big for a man to face, or something 
 like that." 
 
 "Jim, if there is any danger, I don't want you to 
 work for me," Sidney Prale said. "You're married 
 and a father and " 
 
 "And that will be about all from you, Sid!" Far-
 
 158 THE BRAND OF SILENCE 
 
 land interrupted. "Think I'm going to let some man 
 who doesn't tell me his name throw a scare into me ?" 
 
 "But, if there is danger " 
 
 "I thrive on danger," said Jim Farland. "Think 
 I'm going to desert you at this stage of the game? 
 That is what they want, of course. If I did, you'd 
 probably hire another detective, and it might be one 
 of their own men whoever they are. I'm in this 
 game to stay, Sid, first because you are an old friend 
 of mine and I think you are being made the victim 
 of some sort of a dirty deal, and also because I'm 
 not the kind of man to be bluffed out of a job. We 
 are going right ahead. I got a note at the office, 
 too." 
 
 "A note!" Prale gasped. 
 
 "Typewritten, but not* on George Lerton's battered 
 typewriter this time. It remarked that unless I gave 
 up this case, somebody would make things hard for 
 me, or words to that effect. Old stuff! If they are 
 so scared that they send threatening letters, they're 
 whipped right now and they know it !" 
 
 "I had an interesting experience this afternoon,'* 
 said Prale. 
 
 "The fight?" 
 
 "I don't mean that. I met Kate Gilbert in front of 
 the library. She asked me to get a taxicab and drive 
 her through the Park. I did it. She begged me to 
 leave New York and remain away, and said that my 
 enemies might not be so harsh if I did. I tried to 
 get her to explain, and she insisted that I knew all 
 there was to know. She left the taxicab and walked 
 to her home."
 
 MURK RECEIVES A BLOW 159 
 
 "I'll have to investigate that girl more thoroughly," 
 Farland said. 
 
 "She is on guard now, as far as I am concerned." 
 
 "Does she know Murk by sight?" 
 
 "I think not." 
 
 "Then here is where Murk gets a steady job for a 
 time," Jim Farland declared. "Murk, you go up to 
 Kate Gilbert's home and watch a bit. Give him 
 plenty of money, Sid, for expenses. Just see if she 
 leaves the place, Murk, and if so, where she goes, and 
 to whom she talks. Get any general information you 
 can. Try to keep her from knowing that you are 
 watching her, but if she finds it out drop the chase 
 and get back here, and we'll put another shadow on 
 the job. When you are sure that she has decided to 
 remain in her apartment for the night, report back 
 here to Mr. Prale." 
 
 "You watch me," Murk said. "I never expected 
 to be caught doin' detective work and I reckon it's 
 somethin' like a disgrace, but this is a sort of special 
 occasion." 
 
 Prale gave Murk more money, in case he would 
 have to engage taxicabs or follow Kate Gilbert where 
 money would be necessary for tips and bribes. 
 
 "Your face looks pretty good, but you want to 
 remember that there are some marks on it," Prale 
 told him. 
 
 "It's looked worse, boss," Murk replied, grinning. 
 "I'll try to do this thing right." 
 
 Murk hurried down in the elevator and went from 
 the hotel. He got a cab immediately, and promised 
 that dire things would happen to the chauffeur if he
 
 160 THE BRAND OF SILENCE 
 
 did not get to a certain corner up beside the Park in 
 record time. Jim Farland had given him a badge to 
 be used if he was questioned by a police officer, and 
 he was to say that he was an operative attached to 
 Farland's office. 
 
 Murk discharged the taxi at the proper corner, 
 touched match to cigarette, and walked slowly down 
 the street toward the apartment house where Kate 
 Gilbert lived with her father and her maid. 
 
 Jim Farland had told him the location of the Gil- 
 bert apartment, and Murk saw that the lights in it 
 were burning. It was about time for dinner, he 
 knew. 
 
 He went to a drug store on the nearest corner and 
 hurried into a telephone booth. He called the apart- 
 ment house and asked to be connected with the Gil- 
 berts. A woman's hoarse voice answered his call, and 
 he guessed that it was the maid speaking. 
 
 "Miss Kate Gilbert there?" Murk asked. 
 
 "Who is calling, please?" 
 
 "Tell her it is about that Prale affair," Murk re- 
 plied. 
 
 "One moment. I'll call her." 
 
 Kate Gilbert's voice came to him over the wire 
 almost immediately. 
 
 "Miss Gilbert?" Murk asked. "I was to tell you 
 that " 
 
 And then Murk jerked down the receiver hook, 
 and grinned as he put the receiver on it. Kate Gil- 
 bert would believe that a careless central girl had cut 
 them off and put an end to the conversation. 
 
 He had learned what he had wished to learn
 
 MURK RECEIVES A BLOW 161 
 
 that Kate Gilbert was at home. He walked back up 
 the street. All he had to do now was to watch, and 
 if Kate Gilbert left the place follow her. If she did 
 not, Murk would wait half an hour or so after the 
 lights in the apartment were turned out, to be sure 
 that she had retired, and then would hurry back to 
 the hotel. 
 
 Murk watched from a distance at first, and then 
 went slowly forward, for he did not wish to attract 
 attention by remaining in one position too long. 
 There were few persons on the block; and now and 
 then some automobile or taxicab would discharge a 
 passenger and go on. Murk made his way slowly to 
 the end of the block, always watching the entrance of 
 the apartment house, crossed the street, and started 
 back on the other side. 
 
 He came in front of a dark passageway between 
 two buildings, and went on. And out of the mouth 
 of that dark passageway came a blow that caused 
 Murk to groan once and topple forward. Hands 
 gripped his unconscious body and drew him back into 
 the darkness.
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 
 MURK IS TEMPTED 
 
 THE next thing that impressed itself upon Murk's 
 consciousness was the fact that he had a terrific 
 pain in the back of his head. Many times during his 
 career Murk had experienced similar pains. And he 
 knew that the best thing to do was to remain quiet 
 for a short time, keep his eyes closed, and gradually 
 pull himself together. 
 
 So he pretended that he had not regained con- 
 sciousness. He knew that he had been stretched 
 upon a bed or couch of some sort, and that his 
 wrists were lashed together, and his ankles. He was 
 not gagged, however. 
 
 Gradually the pain ceased, Murk's senses cleared 
 and he became aware of what was going on around 
 him. He could hear whispered voices, but could not 
 distinguish words and sentences; neither could he tell 
 whether the voices were those of men or women. 
 
 Finally Murk opened his eyes. 
 
 He found that he was in a small room furnished 
 in quite an ordinary manner. He was stretched on 
 an old-fashioned sofa. There were a few chairs 
 scattered about, and a cupboard in one corner. In 
 the middle of the room was an ordinary table cov- 
 ered with a red cloth. Upon the table a kerosene 
 lamp was burning.
 
 MURK IS TEMPTED 163 
 
 Murk groaned and made an attempt to sit up, but 
 fell back again because of a fit of dizziness. It be- 
 came evident that his groan had been heard in the 
 room adjoining, for the door, which had been ajar, 
 now was thrown open wide, and two men entered. 
 
 'Murk knew them instantly; they were the men 
 who had attacked Sidney Prale in the Park. 
 
 "Back to earth, are you?" one of them snarled. 
 "If I had my way, you'd have been cracked on the 
 head for good." 
 
 Murk snarled in reply, despite the fact that he was 
 bound and at the mercy of these men. 
 
 "Sore because I smashed your face!" Murk said. 
 
 "That'll be about all out of you! I may take a 
 smash at you yet!" 
 
 "You've got a good chance while my hands and 
 feet are tied," Murk replied. "It's the only time you 
 could get away with it, all right ! Turn me loose and 
 I can clean up the two of you!" 
 
 "You're not doin' any cleanin' for the present," he 
 was told. 
 
 Murk began wondering at the object of the assault 
 upon him. He could feel the roll of bills Prale had 
 given him bulging his vest pocket, so he guessed rob- 
 bery was not the motive. He managed to sit up on 
 the sofa now, and he glared at the two thugs before 
 him with right good will. 
 
 One of the men went back into the adjoining 
 room, and the other remained standing before Murk, 
 sneering at him, his hands opening and closing as if 
 he would take Murk's throat in them and choke the 
 life out of Sidney Prale's valet and comrade in arms.
 
 164 THE BRAND OF SILENCE 
 
 Then the man who had left the room returned, and 
 there was another with him. Murk looked at this 
 stranger with sudden interest. He was well dressed, 
 Murk could see, but he wore an ulster that had the 
 wide collar turned up around his neck, and he had a 
 mask on his face a home-made mask that was noth- 
 ing more than a handkerchief with eye slits cut in it. 
 
 "Afraid to show yourself, are you?" Murk sneered. 
 "Who are you the chief thug?" 
 
 The masked man pulled a chair up before the sofa 
 and sat down. His eyes glittered at Murk through 
 the slits in the handkerchief. 
 
 "You are not going to be harmed, my man if you 
 are reasonable," he said. 
 
 "Reasonable about what?" Murk demanded. 
 
 "We want some information and we think you can 
 give it to us; that is all." 
 
 "I don't know much," said Murk. 
 
 "Tell us why you were prowling around that house 
 near the Park." 
 
 "Maybe I was takin' a walk," Murk answered. 
 
 "And maybe you were spying, as I happen to 
 know you were. We assume that Sidney Prale sent 
 you to watch the comings and goings of a certain 
 young woman and her friends." 
 
 "Go right ahead assumin'." 
 
 "It will avail you nothing, my man, to adopt this 
 attitude," Murk was told. "And it might help you 
 a great deal if you are willing to listen to reason." 
 
 "I'm listenin'," Murk replied. 
 
 "You haven't been working for Sidney Prale very 
 long, have you?"
 
 MURK IS TEMPTED 165 
 
 "Only a few days since you seem to know all 
 about it, anyway. Why ask foolish questions?" 
 
 "Very well. We understand that Prale kept you 
 from committing suicide and then gave you a job. 
 There is no reason why you should feel an over- 
 whelming gratitude for Prale. He merely got a 
 valet cheap." 
 
 "What about it?" Murk growled. 
 
 "Sidney Prale has a million dollars, but you'll 
 never see much of it. He isn't the sort of man to 
 toss his money away. And there are others, not par- 
 ticularly Prale's friends, who have many millions be- 
 tween them " 
 
 "Well, that ain't doin' me much good." 
 
 "But it may do you a lot of good. We want in- 
 formation and we stand ready to pay for it." 
 
 "I guess you'll have to do a little explaining" 
 Murk told him. "I never was any good at guessin' 
 riddles. Life's too short to be spent workin' out silly 
 puzzles." 
 
 "Very well," the masked man said. "As you per- 
 haps are aware, Prale has certain enemies. That is 
 enough for you to know, if he has not told you 
 more. If you can give me information concerning 
 Sidney Prale's plans, and tell us how much he 
 knows, we will pay you handsomely." 
 
 "I getcha," Murk said. 
 
 "And if you can manage to continue working for 
 Prale, and let us know everything as it comes up, 
 there'll be considerably more in it for you." 
 
 "Want me to do the spy act, do you ?"
 
 166 THE BRAND OF SILENCE 
 
 "Call it whatever you like. There is a chance for 
 you to earn some good money." 
 
 "How much?" Murk demanded. 
 
 "That depends upon the services you render us. 
 But let me assure you that you will be richly re- 
 warded. We will not fool you or defraud you." 
 
 "What do you want to know?'' 
 
 "What is Jim Farland, the detective, doing? What 
 has he reported to Prale?" 
 
 "He ain't reported much of anything," said Murk. 
 
 "We want to know what Prale thinks about the 
 situation. Tell us all you know concerning the Rufus 
 Shepley murder case. Has Sidney Prale said any- 
 thing you have been able to hear about the enemies 
 who are bothering him? You understand what we 
 want to know everything possible about Prale's 
 plans. And we want you to watch henceforth, and 
 keep us informed in a way I shall explain to you." 
 
 "Well, explain it!" said Murk. 
 
 "Scarcely, until we know that you are our man. 
 Try to think of things now, and tell us. Be sure 
 you let us have everything. What you deem unim- 
 portant may be really important to us." 
 
 "I'd feel a lot more friendly to you gents if you'd 
 untie me," said Murk. "I can't talk business when 
 I'm treated like a prisoner, or somethin' like that." 
 
 "You'll be untied as soon as we feel sure of you, 
 and not before," Murk was told. "We are not tak- 
 ing chances with you. Are you going to work for 
 us?" 
 
 "I'm not sure that the proposition looks good to 
 me," Murk said. "I make a deal with a man whose
 
 MURK IS TEMPTED 167 
 
 face I can't see, and do the dirty work and then 
 maybe you turn me down cold and don't give me a 
 cent, and I lose my job with Mr. Prale and get in a 
 nice fix. Don't you suppose I got some common 
 sense ?" 
 
 "Make the deal with us, and you shall have five 
 hundred dollars in cash before you leave this room," 
 the masked man promised. "And, take my word for 
 it, you'll be rewarded richly if you serve us well." 
 
 "Well, I don't know much about this business," 
 Murk said. "You know I ain't been with Mr. Prale 
 very long. All I know is that he's got some enemies 
 who are tryin' to get the best of him. He says he 
 ain't guilty of that murder charge, and I happen to 
 know he ain't, because he was with me when Shepley 
 was killed." 
 
 "Maybe you both had a hand in the killing," the 
 masked man said. "And if you don't come to terms 
 with us, you may find yourself in jail charged with 
 being an accessory." 
 
 "You can't bluff me, and you can't threaten me and 
 get away with it!" Murk cried. 
 
 "Softly softly!" said the masked man. "I was 
 merely showing you where you stand." 
 
 "Well, don't start talkin' to me that way, if you 
 want to do business with me. If I'm goin' to work 
 for you, I've got to know what's what. Who's got 
 it in for Mr. Prale, and why? That's what I want 
 to know. And what is it you're tryin' to do to him? 
 How can I help if I ain't wise?" 
 
 "Some of the wealthiest and most influential men
 
 168 THE B'RAND OF SILENCE 
 
 in the city are against Sidney Prale. They are de- 
 termined to run him away from this, his old home 
 town. They are going to strip him of his fortune if 
 they can. They are going to grind him down until 
 he is nothing better than a tramp." 
 
 "Well, why are they goin' to do all this?" 
 
 "It is not necessary for you to know at present. 
 Perhaps you will learn that from Sidney Prale, if 
 you keep your ears and eyes open. All we want you 
 to do is to watch and listen and make frequent re- 
 ports to us. You'll have to be loyal to us, of course. 
 If you are not, we shall punish you." 
 
 "But what did Mr. Prale ever do to get such a 
 bunch down on him?" Murk demanded. 
 
 "You'll find that out in time maybe." 
 
 "I guess I'd better know right now." 
 
 "It is not necessary. Besides, we are not sure of 
 you yet, please remember." 
 
 "How could you ever be sure of me?" Murk cried. 
 "If I threw down Mr. Prale, wouldn't I be liable to 
 throw you down, if somebody happened along and 
 raised the price? Why, you simp, I wouldn't turn 
 against Mr. Prale for a million dollars ! He's treated 
 me decent, and he was the first man who ever did 
 that! I was just stringin' you, you fool! Mr. Prale 
 himself don't know why your gang is causin' him 
 trouble, and I was tryin' to pump you and find out !" 
 
 "So he has told you that he doesn't know why he 
 has enemies?" 
 
 "He has and he told the truth. There's some- 
 thing phony about that murder case; somebody's
 
 MURK IS TEMPTED 169 
 
 tryin' to frame him. And when Jim Farland gets 
 through, somebody is goin' to jail!" 
 
 "So you will not work for us?" 
 
 "You're right; I won't. Maybe I don't amount to 
 much, but I'm mighty square compared to some peo- 
 ple I know about." 
 
 "And what do you suppose is going to become of 
 you, if you refuse to do as I say?" 
 
 "I guess I'll manage to struggle along," Murk said. 
 
 "We'll see about that!" the masked man replied, 
 getting up from the chair. "Perhaps a night spent 
 in your present position, without food or water, will 
 cause you to change your mind. If it does not, there 
 are other methods that can be used." 
 
 "Goin' to pull rough stuff, are you?" Murk sneered. 
 "Go as far as you like! You can manhandle me, but 
 you can't make me turn against Sidney Prale. That's 
 a golden little thought for to-day, as the preacher 
 says."
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 A WOMAN'S WAY 
 
 THE masked man stepped forward, snarling behind 
 his mask, his hands closing, and the two thugs 
 stepped forward also, as if to use Murk roughly if 
 the other gave the command. 
 
 But there was an interruption. Kate Gilbert came 
 in from the adjoining room. 
 
 The masked man whirled to meet her. 
 
 "You should not " he began. 
 
 "It makes no difference," Kate Gilbert said. "This 
 man knows me, or he would not have been set to 
 spying on me. Sidney Prale knows that I am asso- 
 ciated with his enemies, since I was talking to him 
 to-day. It is not necessary for me to mask my face !" 
 
 "It really was not necessary for you to come," said 
 the masked man. "This fellow refuses to have any- 
 thing to do with us." 
 
 "I cannot blame him. You used violence to get 
 him here. I am afraid that I should refuse to have 
 business relations with a man who knocked me on the 
 head." 
 
 "It was the only way. We couldn't approach him 
 on the street very well. We have him here now and 
 perhaps may be able to force him to see the light." 
 
 "I shall not countenance more violence!" Kate Gil- 
 bert said. "I told you in the beginning that force
 
 A WOMAN'S WAY 171 
 
 was not to be used. This man is not to be blamed in 
 any way. He merely is an employee of the man we 
 are fighting." 
 
 "I think it justifiable to use any method that will 
 get results," the masked man told her. "You seem 
 to forget " 
 
 "I do not forget!" Kate Gilbert cried. "Who has 
 a better right to hope to see Sidney Prale punished? 
 Who has suffered more than I and mine? But I do 
 not wish to see violence used. This man may be 
 made to help us, but I fear you have taken the 
 wrong method. And what do you intend doing 
 now?" 
 
 "Perhaps it will be as well for you to return home 
 and allow us to handle this part of the affair," the 
 masked man told her. "No woman likes violence, of 
 course, but at times it is necessary. We are going 
 to leave him here to-night to think things over. He 
 will be stiff and sore and hungry in the morning." 
 
 "But " Kate Gilbert protested. 
 
 "It is the better way, I assure you and quite 
 necessary. This thing is so big that it must be 
 handled with firmness and decision. You have aided 
 us greatly, but I think it will be a mistake to let you 
 take command of the situation." 
 
 Kate Gilbert's eyes flashed angrily, and her face 
 flushed. 
 
 "Very well, sir," she said. "But let me talk to this 
 man alone. Perhaps common sense and kindness will 
 prevail where violence did not. I sincerely hope so." 
 
 "I am willing to let you talk to him, but you are 
 to be guarded in your speech. Tell him nothing
 
 172 THE B'RAND OF SILENCE 
 
 about the real affair; we want to be sure of him be- 
 fore we take him fully into our confidence. All we 
 wish him to do is to keep us informed about Prale 
 and Jim Farland, and any others who may be helping 
 Prale." 
 
 "I understand, and I am not quite a fool!" Kate 
 Gilbert told him, still angry. 
 
 The masked man motioned the two thugs out of 
 the room, and then followed them, closing the door 
 behind him. Kate Gilbert sat down in the chair be- 
 fore the sofa, and looked at Murk. 
 
 "First, I want you to know that I had nothing to 
 do with the blow you received," she said. "That was 
 going a bit too far. I knew nothing of it until I 
 received a telephone message saying that you were 
 spying on the place where I live, and that you had 
 been captured and brought here." 
 
 "I understand that, lady," Murk replied. 
 
 "I know that you have been with Mr. Prale only a 
 few days. If he were in your place now, I might be 
 inclined to turn my back and let those men handle 
 him. But you are not to be blamed for the faults of 
 your employer." 
 
 "No, ma'am," said Murk. 
 
 "I am going to tell you only this much: Sidney 
 Prale committed a great wrong against several per- 
 sons. Those persons have banded together to have 
 vengeance. Sidney Prale deserves everything that 
 can happen to him." 
 
 "I think you've got him wrong, ma'am," said 
 Murk. "He's even accused of murder, and I know 
 he ain't guilty."
 
 A WOMAN'S WAY 173 
 
 "Neither do I believe that he is guilty of that 
 crime, but that has nothing to do with this other 
 affair. The persons who are banded together against 
 Sidney Prale have nothing to do with the murder 
 charge, I am sure." 
 
 "I reckon he'll be glad to know that. But you've 
 got him wrong in this other thing, lady. Mr. Prale 
 is worried almost to death because he don't know 
 who his enemies are, or why they are causin' him a 
 lot of trouble." 
 
 "He has led you to believe that?" she asked. 
 
 "I know he's tellin' the truth, ma'am. He's got 
 a detective workin' tryin' to find out what it all 
 means." 
 
 "Then he is fooling you, and the detective also. 
 Sidney Prale knows who his enemies are, and why 
 they are troubling him. He tried to tell me that he 
 did not know, and almost in the same breath he told 
 me something that convinced me he did know. You 
 have received an offer to help us. Are you willing?" 
 
 "I don't intend to turn against Mr. Prale!" Murk 
 declared. U I ain't a man like that! These gents can 
 keep me here and starve me and beat me up, and 
 that's all the good it'll do 'em. I know a man when 
 I see one, and Mr. Prale's a man, and a square man, 
 and I'm goin' to stand by him!" 
 
 "He has fooled you! You do not know him for 
 the scoundrel that he is." 
 
 "Maybe it's you that's bein' fooled, lady." 
 
 "No. If you knew all, you would understand." 
 
 "Well, why don't you tell me, then? If you prove 
 to me that Mr. Prale is a crook or somethin', and
 
 174 THE BRAND OF SILENCE 
 
 that you people ain't, maybe I'll change my mind 
 about some things." 
 
 "I can tell you nothing now, except that I am 
 right and that Sidney Prale is fooling you," Kate 
 Gilbert said. 
 
 "Then I'll stay right here and take my beatin' at 
 the hands of them thugs." 
 
 "You will do nothing of the kind," she said. "I 
 will not see them use violence toward you." 
 
 "I don't see how you're goin' to help it, ma'am." 
 
 "I am going to have you released. You may re- 
 turn to Sidney Prale and tell him that we intend to 
 punish him, but that I, for one, will not resort to vio- 
 lence. He may fight unfairly, but we do not." She 
 lowered her voice and bent toward him. "I'll attract 
 their attention, and send my maid to release you," she 
 said. "Remain where you are." 
 
 "Yes'm." 
 
 Without another word, Kate Gilbert got up and 
 left the room, closing the door behind her. In the 
 other room were the masked man, the two thugs, and 
 Marie, the maid. 
 
 "I have talked to him, and I have a plan," Kate 
 Gilbert told the others. "Marie, I wish you to do 
 something for me. Take the taxicab and go on the 
 errand, and after I am done here I will go home in 
 another car." 
 
 She stepped across to the maid and gave her whis- 
 pered instructions, while the men waited. Marie left 
 the room, walked through the hall, and left the house. 
 Kate Gilbert sat down at the table and called the 
 others to her.
 
 A WOMAN'S WAY 175 
 
 "That man is loyal to Prale," she explained. "Prale 
 has fooled him. He honestly believes that Prale does 
 not know his enemies or why he is being bothered, 
 and he is grateful to Prale for what Prale has done 
 for him. So, naturally, he refuses to turn against his 
 employer." 
 
 "If you will leave the matter in my hands " the 
 
 masked man suggested. 
 
 "I may do so after we have had this little talk. 
 Come closer, so I can speak in a low tone and he 
 will not hear." 
 
 They pulled their chairs up to the table. 
 
 "This man is stubborn," she said. "You could 
 starve him or beat him, and it would do you not the 
 slightest good. It would only make him the more 
 determined to be faithful to Prale. We would gain 
 nothing. We've got to convince him that we are in 
 the right." 
 
 "I object to telling him the whole truth," said the 
 masked man. 
 
 "He could do nothing except tell it to Prale and 
 Prale knows it already, doesn't he?" Kate Gilbert 
 asked. 
 
 "You want to let the fellow go?" the masked man 
 cried. "Why, we can use him as a sort of hostage !" 
 
 "As if Sidney Prale would care if he never saw 
 his valet again!" 
 
 "He is more than a valet; he is one of Prale's 
 spies! If we can hold this man prisoner, and attend 
 to Jim Farland, that detective, Prale would stand 
 alone. There are not many men he would trust to
 
 176 THE BRAND OF SILENCE 
 
 help him. And, if he stands alone, it will be easier 
 for us to torment him, cause him trouble, drive him 
 away !" 
 
 "Sometimes I regret that we started this thing," 
 Kate Gilbert said. "What will it avail us to make 
 Prale's life miserable?" 
 
 "You seem to forget ' 
 
 "I forget nothing! I know how I have suffered, 
 how my father and others have suffered. But I am 
 not sure that retribution will not visit Sidney Prale 
 even if we keep our hands off." 
 
 "You're a woman ; that is why !" the masked man 
 accused. "You have a soft heart, as is right and 
 proper in a woman. But when you remember your 
 father " 
 
 "I am not quitting!" she declared. "I will con- 
 tinue the game. But I will not permit violence to- 
 ward anybody, least of all to a poor fellow who has 
 nothing to do with the affair except that he is work- 
 ing for Sidney Prale. We can accomplish our aims 
 without becoming thugs and breaking laws ourselves. 
 I understood that we always were to keep inside the 
 law." 
 
 "Well, what have you to suggest?" the masked 
 man asked. 
 
 "Let Prale's valet go, for he can do us no harm. 
 Prale knows that I am against him, but he can make 
 no move unless we break the law and his detective 
 has us apprehended. We play into Sidney Prale's 
 hands if we do that. Can't you see it? We do not 
 want to give him an advantage, do we? If we use
 
 A WOMAN'S WAY 177 
 
 violence or break a law,' we do just that. We must 
 break him down cleverly." 
 
 "I see that point, all right." 
 
 "I am astnoished that you did not see it before. 
 You appear to be very vindictive lately, yet you did 
 not suffer as some others suffered." 
 
 "I have my reasons. I always have hated Sidney 
 Prale." 
 
 "Then you are making this fight for personal 
 reasons ?" 
 
 "Do not forget that some very good friends of 
 mine suffered because of Prale. But, about the 
 valet " 
 
 "Let him go, I say. What harm can he do?" 
 
 "We slugged him to get him here. He can report 
 it to the police, and have you arrested, and these two 
 men." 
 
 "And what evidence would he have?" she asked. 
 "Who would testify that he was telling the truth? 
 These two men can keep out of sight for the present. 
 He has not seen your face because of your mask. 
 And to charge me with slugging him would be ridicu- 
 lous." 
 
 "This house " 
 
 "Is vacant, so far as the neighbors know; it is 
 owned by a man whose wife died, and who has been 
 gone for more than a year. The agent who rented it 
 to us furnished, is one of us. We can simply close 
 it up and not come here again. If he complained, 
 and the police investigated, they would find the house 
 closed, and the nearest neighbors would declare that
 
 178 THE BRAND OF SILENCE 
 
 it had been closed since the owner went away. The 
 furniture is not even dusted." 
 
 "That part is all right." 
 
 "And that attack on Prale in the Park during the 
 afternoon!" she went on. "That was a mistake. 
 Suppose Detective Farland managed to connect that 
 with us. I tell you we must not break a law, or 
 Sidney Prale may get the advantage!" 
 
 "We can't handle an affair like this with kid 
 gloves !" the masked man declared. 
 
 "We do as I say, or I shall go to Sidney Prale 
 and tell him everything and rob you of your venge- 
 ance !" 
 
 "You would do that!" the masked man cried, 
 springing from his chair. 
 
 "I'll do it if there is any more violence!" she de- 
 clared. "It was understood that no rough tactics 
 were to be used, and I demand that we carry out the 
 original plan!" 
 
 "We'll see about this!" the masked man cried. 
 "I'll talk to some of the others " 
 
 "And I'll leave the game if there is any more vio- 
 lence do not forget that!" Kate Gilbert cried. 
 
 She continued to talk and plan, for she was fighting 
 for time. She had known that, at the last moment, 
 this man would refuse to release Murk. 
 
 Marie, the big maid, had hurried from the house, 
 which sat far back from the street and was sur- 
 rounded by trees. But she had returned after watch- 
 ing for a few minutes. 
 
 Murk, sitting on the sofa, heard somebody at one 
 of the windows. He watched the sash being raised
 
 A WOMAN'S WAY 179 
 
 slowly and cautiously, and after a time saw the head 
 of Marie. She motioned him for silence, listened a 
 moment, and then crawled inside. 
 
 Marie hurried across to Murk and fumbled with 
 the cords that bound his wrists together behind his 
 back. The bonds slipped away, and Murk made 
 quick work of the one around his ankles. He hur- 
 ried across the room, got through the window, and 
 helped the big maid through. Marie led him toward 
 the street. 
 
 "Come right along with me!" she commanded, 
 when they were some distance from the house. 
 
 "Thanks for helpin' me out, but I guess I'll hang 
 around," Murk replied. "I'm right eager to get a 
 look at the face of the man who was wearing the 
 mask." 
 
 "I supposed you'd want to do that," the big maid 
 told him. "And that's what I've got orders to keep 
 you from doing. You come along with me !" 
 
 Murk got a surprise. Marie gripped his shoulder 
 with her left hand and it was no gentle grip. Then 
 he saw that she was holding an automatic pistol in 
 her right hand. 
 
 "There is a taxi at the corner," she informed 
 Murk. "We are going to get into it and drive back 
 to the city. You may be able to find this house 
 afterward, but I doubt it." 
 
 "Suppose I take a notion not to go?" Murk asked. 
 
 "I'm not afraid to shoot," Marie informed him. 
 
 "Aw, let me go !" he exclaimed. "You're in wrong 
 in this deal; see? I tell you that Mr. Prale, my boss,
 
 i8o THE BRAND OF SILENCE 
 
 is an all-right man, and you people are makin' some 
 kind of a mistake." 
 
 "I like to see a man stick up for his boss," replied 
 the gigantic Marie. "And I'm stickin' up for mine 
 right this minute, and she told me to see that you 
 went to town. Why don't you quit that man Prale 
 and get a real job with a gentleman? You're not a 
 bad-looking man at all." 
 
 Murk felt himself blushing at this unexpected an- 
 nouncement. Praise from the lips of a woman was 
 something new in his life. He glanced at the amazon 
 beside him. 
 
 "And you're sure some woman!" he said. "And 
 that ain't just nice talk I sure mean it! But you 
 ain't got this from the right angle. I've got to work 
 for Mn Prale. I'd be a dead one this minute if it 
 wasn't for him. If I didn't stick by him now, I'd 
 never be able to look at myself in a shavin' mirror 
 again. You don't want me to be an ungrateful pup, 
 do you? You see " 
 
 Having directed her attention to another topic for 
 a moment, Murk put his plan into action. He made 
 a quick lunge forward as he spoke, springing a bit 
 to one side as he did so, and trying to seize the auto- 
 matic and tear it from her grasp. 
 
 But the gigantic Marie had been anticipating some- 
 thing like that, despite Murk's speech and his manner 
 that said he was a willing captive. She lurched for- 
 ward and hurled Murk back, sprang after him, 
 crashed the butt of the weapon against the side of 
 his head, and then, while he was a trifle groggy from 
 the blow, she grasped him with her powerful hands
 
 A WOMAN'S WAY 181 
 
 and piloted him toward the street with strength and 
 determination. 
 
 "Never try to play them child's tricks on me!" she 
 announced. 
 
 Murk regarded her with mingled admiration and 
 chagrin, and spoke with enthusiasm. 
 
 "Some woman!" he commented.
 
 CHAPTER XIX 
 
 COADLEY QUITS 
 
 MURK, compelled to ride back to the city in the 
 taxicab with Marie, spent the time in ordinary 
 conversation with the amazon, and told himself re- 
 peatedly that she was a great woman, a dangerous 
 state of mind for a bachelor. 
 
 The only reason Murk wanted to remain in the 
 vicinity of the cottage was to catch a sight of the 
 countenance of the man who had worn the mask. 
 As far as the cottage itself was concerned, he had 
 noticed a signboard on a street corner not far from 
 it, and he would be able to locate it again if Sidney 
 Prale or Jim Farland thought it necessary. 
 
 Marie stopped the taxicab near the Park, and 
 Murk got out and gallantly offered to pay the bill for 
 his enemy, but Marie would not allow it. 
 
 "Hope to see you often and get to know you better 
 when this little scrap is over," Murk made bold to 
 say, and then, chuckling at her retort, he started 
 walking down the street. 
 
 He did not care to ride, for it was not so very 
 many blocks to the hotel, and Murk wanted time to 
 formulate in his mind the report he intended to make 
 to his employer. 
 
 Prale was waiting for him, and Murk told his 
 story in detail and without embellishment.
 
 COADLEY QUITS 183 
 
 "So Kate Gilbert had you freed, did she?" Prale 
 said. "And she told the others that she would quit 
 them if they used anymore violence? Murk, old boy, 
 when our foes begin fighting in their own camp it is 
 time for us to begin to hope. A house divided 
 against itself cannot stand, as you probably have 
 heard." 
 
 "She certainly panned the man who wore the 
 handkerchief over his face," Murk said. "I think 
 I'd know him again, boss. He talked a good deal, 
 remember, and he got careless toward the last and 
 used his regular voice. And I watched his hands 
 boob didn't have sense enough to wear gloves. Any- 
 body but a boob would know that a hand can be 
 recognized as easy as a face." 
 
 "Let us hope that they make a lot of mistakes like 
 that, Murk," Prale replied. "I'll be glad if we ever 
 solve this confounded mystery. It's getting on my 
 nerves." 
 
 They remained up until one o'clock in the morn- 
 ing, but Jim Farland neither visited the hotel again 
 nor called them up, and so they went to bed. 
 
 They did not rise early, but had breakfast in the 
 suite and took their time about eating it. After that, 
 they waited for Farland to arrive or telephone and 
 give orders and tell news. Farland did not come, but 
 Attorney Coadley did. 
 
 Murk admitted him, and the distinguished crim- 
 inal lawyer sat in the window beside Prale, a grave 
 expression on his face, his manner that of a discon- 
 certed man.
 
 184 THE BRAND OF SILENCE 
 
 "I gather you do not bring good news, judging 
 from your countenance," Prale said. 
 
 "At least, I have not come to say that the case 
 against you is any stronger," Coadley replied. "I'd 
 like to speak to you alone, Mr. Prale." 
 
 "Certainly. You may go into the other room, 
 Murk, and remain until I call." 
 
 Murk obeyed, and Sidney Prale bent forward in 
 his chair and looked at the attorney again, wondering 
 what this visit meant, what was coming, half fearing 
 that the news would be ill after all. 
 
 "Mr. Prale," Coadley said, "I have come here to 
 your apartment to tell you that I wish you to get 
 another attorney." 
 
 "I beg your pardon!" Prale gasped. 
 
 "I wish to withdraw from the case, Mr. Prale 
 that is all. An attorney does that frequently, you 
 know." 
 
 "But I want you to handle my case," Prale said. 
 "I have been given to understand that you are one 
 of the foremost criminal lawyers in the city. And 
 you have done so much already " 
 
 "I insist that I withdraw, Mr. Prale. I shall be 
 ethical. I shall give the man you name in my place 
 all the knowledge at my command regarding this 
 case, and I shall see that the change does not embar- 
 rass you or place you in jeopardy. The court wilt 
 grant extensions if they are necessary." 
 
 "Farland has given me to understand that my alibi 
 now is of such a nature that the case against me may 
 be dismissed. I had hoped that you had come here 
 this morning to tell me so."
 
 COADLEY QUITS 185 
 
 "I fancy that any good attorney can get the charge 
 dismissed," Coadley said. 
 
 "But I do not want to be freed under a cloud. I 
 want the public to be sure I did not kill Rufus 
 Shepley I want to have the public know the identity 
 of the man who did." 
 
 "That is what I thought, and that will take con- 
 siderable time, perhaps," Coadley said. "And so I 
 wish to withdraw " 
 
 "If it is a question of fee " 
 
 "Nothing of the sort, Mr. Prale. I am sure you 
 would pay me any reasonable fee I asked. There is 
 no question regarding your financial ability." 
 
 "May I ask, then, why you desire to leave the 
 case ?" Sidney Prale asked. 
 
 "I'd rather not state my reasons, Mr. Prale. Just 
 let me withdraw, and make arrangements with the 
 court, after you have named the man to take my 
 place. The bail arrangement will stand, of course." 
 
 "So you do not care to tell your reasons!" Prale 
 said. "Mr. Coadley, a banker refused to handle my 
 funds. A hotel manager ordered me out, you might 
 say, for no good reason whatever. I understand that 
 I have some powerful enemies who are working in 
 the dark, and who cause these annoyances. Do you 
 wish me to understand, Mr. Coadley, that they have 
 been to see you ? Do you wish me to think that you 
 are under the thumbs of these persons, whoever they 
 may be?" 
 
 The attorney's face flushed, and he looked angry 
 for an instant, but quickly controlled himself.
 
 186 THE BRAND OF SILENCE 
 
 "I do not care to go into details, Mr. Prale," he 
 said. 
 
 "Then it is the truth!" Prale said. "The big crim- 
 inal lawyer is not so big but that others can force 
 him to do as they please." 
 
 "Let us say as I please, Mr. Prale." 
 
 "Then you think that you have a good reason for 
 withdrawing?" 
 
 "I do." 
 
 "In other words, something has been told you that 
 convinced you I am not a fit client. Is that it? And, 
 instead of telling me what it is, and giving me a 
 chance to refute the charge or explain, you simply 
 take the easiest course and believe my enemies. Do 
 you call that an example of the square deal?" 
 
 "Let us not talk about it further, Mr. Prale," 
 Coadley replied. "I feel quite sure that you have a 
 complete understanding of the situation." 
 
 "But I have not ! I seem to be able to understand 
 nothing in regard to this affair of which I am the 
 central figure. I would give half my fortune, I be- 
 lieve, to have an explanation and be able to set 
 things right." 
 
 "No doubt you would be willing to give half your 
 fortune to set things right!" Coadley said. "It is 
 your privilege, of course, to say that you do not 
 understand. Mr. Prale, you must see that this inter- 
 view is painful to me, and it must be painful to you. 
 Why prolong it?" 
 
 "As far as I am concerned, this interview may be 
 terminated at once, sir!" Sidney Prale exclaimed. 
 "I'll send you a check for your services as soon as
 
 COADLEY QUITS 187 
 
 you submit your bill; and please do not neglect to do 
 so at once. I'll inform you as soon as possible of 
 the name of the man I select to fill your legal shoes 
 in this matter. That is satisfactory? Very well. 
 Murk!" 
 
 Murk hurried in from the adjoining room when 
 he heard Sidney Prale's call. 
 
 "Show Mr. Coadley to the hall door, Murk !" Sid- 
 ney Prale said. "And while you are about it, please 
 close that ventilator in the corner of the room. It 
 creates a draft, I am sure, and Mr. Coadley already 
 has cold feet !" 
 
 The attorney glared at Prale, and then got up and 
 walked quickly across to the door, which the grinning 
 Murk held open to let him pass out.
 
 CHAPTER XX 
 
 UP THE RIVER 
 
 COADLEY had not gone for more than an hour 
 when Detective Jim Farland arrived at the hotel 
 and made his way immediately to Sidney Prale's 
 suite. 
 
 He found Prale pacing the floor angrily, and Murk 
 sitting in a corner and watching him. The police 
 detective, after doing duty for a few days, had been 
 withdrawn, as it seemed evident that Prale had no 
 intention of jumping his bail or eluding trial in any 
 other way. 
 
 "What's the trouble now?" Farland asked. 
 
 "Coadley has just been here," Prale replied. "He 
 has quit us. Our friends the enemy have reached 
 him." 
 
 "You couldn't get any sort of an explanation out 
 of him?" Farland asked. 
 
 "Nothing at all. He simply informed me that he 
 was done, and that I had to get another lawyer." 
 
 "I'll try to find an honest one for you," Farland 
 declared. "I happen to know a clever young chap 
 who probably will take the case, especially if I ex- 
 plain the thing to him, for he loves a fight. There 
 is no special hurry, but I'll try to attend to it some 
 time to-day." 
 
 "Anything new?" Prale asked.
 
 UP THE RIVER 189 
 
 "That is what I am waiting to hear. What did 
 you do last night, Murk?" 
 
 Murk related his adventure at length, while Jim 
 Farland listened gravely, nodding his head now and 
 then, and looking puzzled at times. 
 
 "I'd like to know the identity of that masked man," 
 the detective said, when Murk had finished. "The 
 main trouble in this case is that we do not know the 
 people we are fighting. We know that Kate Gilbert 
 is one of them, and have reason to suspect that 
 George Lerton is another. But there is somebody 
 bigger behind, and that's a fact." 
 
 "What are you going to do next?" Prale asked. 
 
 "I'm going to pay a little attention to the Rufus 
 Shepley murder case. I'm going to find out, if I can, 
 who killed Shepley, and why. I am of the opinion 
 that the murder is distinct from this other trouble, 
 Sid. Perhaps a clew to the murder, however, will 
 give us a clew to the whole thing, for it is certain 
 that somebody has attempted to hang that crime on 
 you." 
 
 "How about George Lerton?" Prale asked. 
 
 "We know that he tried to help smash your alibi by 
 telling a falsehood, and by sending those notes to the 
 barber and the merchant. But we do not know his 
 motive, unless it is simply a hatred of you, Sid, and 
 envy of the million dollars you got in Honduras. 
 I'm going to get out of here now, and get busy." 
 
 "Anything for us to do?" Prale asked. 
 
 "Keep out of trouble that is the principal thing. 
 It appears that every time either of you goes out, you
 
 190 THE BRAND OF SILENCE 
 
 get knocked on the head. I'll report again as soon as 
 I can." 
 
 Jim Farland left them and hurried from the hotel. 
 He went to the hostelry where Rufus Shepley had 
 met his death, was admitted to the suite, and made an 
 exhaustive investigation, which revealed nothing of 
 importance. 
 
 He visited the New York offices of the company 
 in which Shepley had been interested, and questioned 
 officials and clerks, but got no inkling of a state of 
 affairs that might have led to a murder. He was 
 told that the company's business was in proper shape, 
 and that Rufus Shepley had had no financial trouble 
 of any sort so far as his associates knew. 
 
 Farland left the office and continued his investiga- 
 tions. In the evening he went to his home for a 
 meal, and admitted to himself that he did not know 
 any more than when he had started out that morning. 
 
 "It gets my goat!" he said to his reflection in the 
 bathroom mirror. "I'll have to begin working from 
 some other starting point. I've made a mistake some- 
 where, or overlooked something that I should have 
 seen. Makes me sore!" 
 
 The telephone bell rang, and Farland went to the 
 instrument to hear the voice of a man he did not 
 know. 
 
 "I understand that you are interested in the Shep- 
 ley murder case," his caller said. 
 
 "I am working on it, yes. Who is talking?" Far- 
 land demanded. 
 
 "I'm not ready to mention any names. If you 
 want to hang up, go ahead and you'll miss something
 
 UP THE RIVER 191 
 
 important. Or if you want to listen for a min- 
 ute 
 
 "I'll listen!" Farland said. 
 
 "I know a lot about that Shepley case, but I am 
 in a position where I have to be careful. If you'll 
 do as I say, you can learn something you'd like to 
 know." 
 
 "What do you want me to do?" Farland asked. 
 
 "Meet me in some place where nobody will see 
 us talking, and I'll tell you a few things. But I 
 must have your promise that you'll not reveal the 
 source of the information." 
 
 "I'll protect you, unless you are mixed up in it 
 to such an extent that I'd dare not do so," Farland 
 said. "I'm not guaranteeing to shield any murderer 
 or accessory." 
 
 "I had nothing to do with the murder, if that 
 is what you mean," came the reply. 
 
 "Then where do you want me to meet you and 
 when? Can you make it this evening?" 
 
 "Yes; and suppose that you set the meeting place, 
 one that you know will be all right for both of us." 
 
 Farland was glad to listen to that sentence. He 
 had half believed that this was nothing more than 
 a trap, that some of Sidney Prale's mysterious ene- 
 mies were attempting to lure him to some out-of-the- 
 way place and get him in their power. But if he was 
 to be allowed to name the meeting place, it seemed 
 to indicate that everything was all right in that 
 regard. 
 
 Farland though a moment, and then suggested a 
 certain famous restaurant on Broadway and a table
 
 192 THE BRAND OF SILENCE 
 
 in a corner of the main room, where a man could 
 lose himself in the crowd. But that did not meet 
 with the approval of the man at the other end of 
 the telephone wire. 
 
 "Nothing doing in that place," he said. "One of 
 the men interested in this thing hangs out there 
 almost every evening. He'd be sure to see us, htf 
 knows how much I know about it, and he'd suspect 
 things in a second if he saw me talking to you. 
 Then it'd be made hot for me. I've got to protect 
 myself, of course." 
 
 "Suggest a place yourself," Farland said. 
 
 "Make it outside somewhere. How about some 
 place in Riverside Park?" 
 
 "Suits me," Farland replied. 
 
 The man at the other end of the wire gave the 
 directions after much seeming speculation and many 
 changes. Jim Farland was to go to Grant's Tomb, 
 and from there to a certain place near the river. 
 The other man would be in the neighborhood watch- 
 ing, he said, would recognize Farland as he passed 
 the Tomb, and then would follow and speak to him 
 when nobody else was near. 
 
 Farland agreed, and made the engagement for an 
 hour and a half later, saying that he could not get 
 there before that time. It would not be the first 
 time that Jim Farland had obtained an important 
 clew because somebody interested had grown dis- 
 gruntled and had turned against his pals; and he 
 supposed this to be a case of that sort. 
 
 Before leaving home, Farland made sure that his 
 automatic was in excellent condition, and that he had
 
 UP THE RIVER 193 
 
 his handcuffs and electric torch and other para- 
 phernalia of his trade. He made his way to Colum- 
 bus Circle, having decided to walk to the rendezvous. 
 Farland was in no hurry. He observed all who 
 passed him, and he frequently made experiments to 
 ascertain whether he was being followed. He de- 
 cided, after a time, that if he was being shadowed 
 the person doing it was too clever for him. 
 
 He came to Riverside Drive through a cross street, 
 and approached the famous Tomb as cautiously as 
 possible, keeping in the shadows, alert to discover 
 anybody v/ho might be acting at all suspiciously. 
 Farland felt sure that this was no trap, but he was 
 not taking chances. He always had been known 
 to his friends as a cautious man. 
 
 He reached the Tomb finally, and glanced around. 
 Half a dozen persons were passing, some men and 
 some women, some alone and others in couples, but 
 none were of suspicious appearance. 
 
 Farland glanced at his watch to be sure that it 
 was the appointed time. He strolled around the 
 Tomb and waited ten minutes longer, for he did not 
 care to find later that he had left the appointed spot 
 too early and that the other man had not seen and 
 followed him. 
 
 At the end of the extra ten minutes, Farland 
 lighted one of his big, black cigars and started 
 walking toward the river, following the route the 
 other man had designated over the telephone. He 
 walked slowly and not for an instant did he throw 
 caution aside. 
 
 Here and there were dark spots where Farland
 
 194 THE BRAND OF SILENCE 
 
 expected to hear his name spoken, spots where an 
 attack might be made if one was contemplated by 
 foes. 
 
 It was as he was passing one of these that a 
 whisper came from the darkness: 
 
 "Mr. Farland!" 
 
 The detective whirled toward the sound, one hand 
 diving into a coat pocket and clutching his automatic. 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 "Be as silent as possible. Do not flash your torch 
 yet; you may do so presently, so you can see who 
 is talking. I am the man who called you up by 
 telephone." 
 
 "Come out where I can get a glimpse of you," 
 Farland commanded, ready for trouble. 
 
 He could see a shadow detach itself from the 
 patch of gloom in front of him and approach. 
 
 "That is close enough for the present!" Farland 
 said. "I'm not taking chances on you until I know 
 who's talking to me." 
 
 "I don't blame you, Mr. Farland, under the cir- 
 cumstances. If you are sure there is nobody ap- 
 proaching, I'll come out into the light so you can see 
 my face." 
 
 Farland glanced up and down the walk quickly. 
 As he did so, he heard a step behind him. He 
 whirled, the automatic came from his pocket ready 
 for use and a man crashed into him. 
 
 The one who had been talking from the patch 
 of shadow rushed forward at the same instant. Far- 
 land managed to fire once, but the shot went wild. 
 Then a third man rushed from the darkness, and
 
 UP THE RIVER 195 
 
 the detective had the automatic torn away, and found 
 that he had a battle on his hands. 
 
 One man was upon his back, throttling him so 
 that he could not utter a cry. The others were 
 trying to throw him to the ground. Farland won- 
 dered whether that single shot had been heard, 
 whether assistance would reach him, for he knew that 
 here was a battle he could not win by force. 
 
 Finally they got him down. Something was thrust 
 into his mouth and bandaged there, effectually gag- 
 ging him. He was turned over on his face, and his 
 wrists were lashed behind him. Then his ankles 
 were fastened, and two of the men, at the whis- 
 pered instruction of the third, picked him up like a 
 sack of meal and carried him into the deep shadows. 
 
 They did not stop there, but continued toward the 
 river, holding a conversation in whispers at times, 
 and stopping now and then for a moment to rest 
 and listen. Farland had been quiet, gathering his 
 strength, and suddenly he began to struggle. 
 
 It was nothing worse than annoyance for his 
 opponents. He was unable to make an outcry that 
 would attract attention, and he was unable to put 
 up an effective fight. They threw him upon the 
 ground again and held him there. 
 
 "Another little trick like that, and we'll give you 
 something to keep you quiet," one of the men whis- 
 pered into his ear. "We've got you, and you'd 
 better let it go at that!" 
 
 Once more they picked him up and went toward 
 the river. They reached it, and one of the men 
 hurried away while the other two guarded Farland.
 
 196 THE BRAND OF SILENCE 
 
 Five minutes passed, and then a powerful motor boat 
 slipped toward the shore. An instant later Farland 
 was aboard it, a prisoner, and the boat was rushing 
 through the great river toward the north. 
 
 Farland made an attempt to watch the lights along 
 the shore, but one of the men threw a sack over his 
 face, so that he could not see. And so he merely 
 listened to the beating of the boat's engine, and 
 tried to estimate with what speed they were running 
 and how much mileage the craft was covering. 
 
 The sack was heavy, and Jim Farland felt himself 
 half smothered, the perspiration pouring from his 
 face and neck. He had grown angry for a moment, 
 angry at himself for walking into the trap even 
 while suspecting that one might exist, angry at these 
 three men who had captured him so close to River- 
 side Drive. 
 
 Then his rage passed. He was experienced enough 
 to know that an angry man is at a disadvantage 
 in a game of wits, and that wits and nothing else 
 could get him out of the present predicament. 
 
 Finally, he felt the boat turning, the speed was cut 
 off, and it drifted against something. Farland was 
 lifted out of the motor boat, but one of the men 
 held the sack over his head, and he was unable to 
 see. Once more he was carried, this time away from 
 the river, and he could tell nothing except that the 
 men who carried him were struggling up a sharp 
 slope. 
 
 Farland made no attempt to fight or struggle now, 
 knowing that it would avail him nothing to attempt 
 to throw off these three men. He had decided to
 
 UP THE RIVER 197 
 
 conserve his strength, arid to trust to his usual good 
 fortune to get a chance later to even things by turn- 
 ing the tables on his captors. 
 
 Suddenly the sack was taken from his head, and 
 he was able to breathe better. He found that he 
 was beside a road in which stood an automobile. 
 Two of the men lifted him, tossed him inside the 
 machine, and then got in themselves. The driver 
 started the engine, threw in the dutch, and soon the 
 car was being driven at a furious pace along the 
 winding road. 
 
 "Look around all you want to!" one of Farland's 
 captors growled at him. "You won't even know 
 where you are when you get there !"
 
 RECOGNITION 
 
 HPHROUGH a maze of crossing and winding 
 A roads the car made its way, now over highways 
 as smooth as a city pavement, and now over rough 
 mileage that jolted the occupants and threatened the 
 springs with destruction. 
 
 Jim Farland did not recognize this particular dis- 
 trict. He did not even know upon which side of 
 the river he was being hauled along as a prisoner. 
 In the city proper, his abductors would have found 
 it very difficult to take him to a section where he 
 could not have recognized some sort of a landmark, 
 but here they had him at a serious disadvantage. 
 
 The night was dark, too, and a fine drizzle was 
 falling. Farland tugged at his bonds when he could, 
 and finally convinced himself that they would not 
 give. He tried to work one end of the gag from 
 the corner of his mouth and found that he could not 
 do that. He was utterly helpless for the time being, 
 at the mercy of the three men who had kidnaped 
 him, and the chauffeur, and whoever might be where 
 they were going. 
 
 For half an hour longer the car made its way 
 across the country, and then Farland noticed that it 
 left the principal thoroughfare and turned into a 
 rough, narrow lane that was bordered with big trees.
 
 RECOGNITION 199 
 
 At the end of a quarter of a mile of this lane, the 
 chauffeur brought the car to a stop. Farland could 
 see a building that had the appearance of being an 
 abandoned farmhouse. 
 
 He was lifted from the car and carried to the 
 door. One of the men threw it open, and Farland 
 was carried inside. They took him through a hall, 
 turned into a room, and tossed him upon a couch 
 in a corner there. One of them struck a match, 
 lighted a lamp, and then they turned to survey him. 
 
 Farland glared at them, waited for them to speak. 
 They were making no attempt to hide their features. 
 Typical thugs they were, the three of them, and 
 Farland supposed that the chauffeur, who had not 
 come into the house with the others, belonged to 
 the same class. 
 
 One of them stepped forward and removed Far- 
 land's gag, while another went into another room 
 and presently returned with a dipper of water, which 
 he held to Farland's lips. He drank greedily, for 
 the gag had parched his mouth and throat. 
 
 "Bein' as how you are a copper, I'd slip a knife 
 between your ribs and call it a good job," one of 
 the men told him, "but we are supposed to treat 
 you nice and keep you in condition for a little talk 
 with the boss. So you needn't tremble with fear 
 any." 
 
 "It'd take more than three bums like you to make 
 me afraid!" Farland told him. 
 
 "Nasty, ain't you? Maybe we'll get a little chance 
 to beat you up later, especially if your little talk
 
 200 THE BRAND OF SILENCE 
 
 with the boss ain't what they call productive of 
 results. You've got some reputation as a dick, but 
 I reckon it's all a fake. We didn't have much trouble 
 gettin' you and bringin' you here." 
 
 "Isn't that enough to make you worry a bit?" 
 Farland asked. 
 
 "How do you mean?" 
 
 "Did you ever stop to think that maybe I wanted 
 to be captured and hauled here? Have you any idea 
 how many men watched and trailed us? You've led 
 me to where I wanted to come, to a place I wanted 
 to find, perhaps." 
 
 "That bluff won't work," came the reply. "We 
 had a couple of men watchin' for that very thing, 
 and they'd have given us a high sign if we had 
 been followed. You're here all by your lonesome, 
 and so you'd better be good." 
 
 Two of the men left the room, and the third sat 
 down by the table to act as guard. Fifteen minutes 
 passed, during which Jim Farland and the man by 
 the table exchanged pleasant remarks concerning each 
 other, neither getting much the best of the argument. 
 
 Then the hall door was opened again, and a masked 
 man entered the room ! 
 
 Remembering what Murk had related to him con- 
 cerning his experience of the night before, Jim 
 Farland looked up at this newcomer with sudden 
 interest. 
 
 This man, undoubtedly, was a sort of leader, one 
 who had hired others to help him in his work and 
 who knew the identities of Sidney Prale's mysterious
 
 RECOGNITION 201 
 
 enemies, and why they were working against him; 
 perhaps, also, the man who could tell a good deal 
 about the murder of Rufus Shepley. 
 
 Farland did not betray too much interest, though, 
 for he sensed that he was opposed to a person of 
 brains and cunning, a different type from the thugs 
 he hired to work for him. So the detective merely 
 blinked his eyes rapidly as he looked up at the other 
 and waited for him to speak. 
 
 "You are Jim Farland, a detective?" 
 
 The voice was low and harsh, a monotone, a 
 disguised voice in fact. Jim Farland knew that at 
 once. 
 
 "That's my name, and some people are kind 
 enough to say that I am a detective," Farland re- 
 plied. "What's the idea of treating me rough like 
 this?" 
 
 "I regret that violence was necessary to get you 
 here, Mr. Farland," the masked man replied, "but if 
 seemed to be the only way in which I could get a 
 chance to talk to you freely without subjecting myself 
 to danger." 
 
 "Why regret?" Farland asked. 
 
 "Because I want you for my friend instead of 
 my enemy, Mr. Farland, and I fancy that we may 
 be able to come to terms. I shall send this man of 
 mine from the room and submit a proposition to 
 you. I hope you see fit to accept it." 
 
 He motioned for the other man to leave, which 
 he did immediately, closing the hall door behind him. 
 Then the masked man sat down in the chair by the 
 table.
 
 202 THE BRAND OF SILENCE 
 
 Farland was watching him closely now. The collar 
 of his coat and the handkerchief mask effectually 
 shielded his face and head. But, as Murk had told, 
 this man did not have the common sense to cover 
 his hands, and Farland looked at them when he 
 could, careful not to let the other suspect his ob- 
 ject. 
 
 "I am the man who talked to Mr. Prale's valet 
 last night," Farland heard the other say. "In some 
 manner, the valet escaped, and so we were obliged 
 to have you brought here instead of to the place 
 where we had him, and which was considerably 
 nearer the city. I regret it if the long ride annoyed 
 you, but you will appreciate that it was necessary 
 for my men to bind and gag you." 
 
 "It certainly was if they expected to get me here!" 
 Jim Farland declared. 
 
 He heard the masked man chuckle. 
 
 "I understand that you have been engaged by 
 Sidney Prale to clear him of the charge of murder- 
 ing Rufus Shepley." 
 
 "I don't mind admitting that, since the whole city 
 knows it," said Farland. 
 
 "And also to aid Sidney Prale in outwitting cer- 
 tain persons who are trying to punish him for some- 
 thing he did." 
 
 "I don't know anything about that. I do know 
 that some people are trying to make things hot for 
 Sid Prale, and he doesn't deserve it, and " 
 
 "Pardon me, if I interrupt!" the masked man 
 said. "You say that he does not deserve it. Do
 
 RECOGNITION 203 
 
 you believe that influential persons would persecute 
 him if he did not deserve it?" 
 
 "Sid Prale doesn't know what it is all about!" 
 
 "That is what he told the valet, too. But believe 
 me when I say that he does know what it is all 
 about, and is deceiving you when he says otherwise." 
 
 "What has all this to do with me ?" Jim Farland 
 demanded. "Did you have me brought here to argue 
 the case with me?" 
 
 "I had you brought here because I want you to 
 cease working for Sidney Prale. I want you to go 
 back to him and tell him that you are done." 
 
 "As Coadley, the attorney, did?" 
 
 "Exactly!" 
 
 "Your people must be men of influence if they 
 can buy off Coadley like that!" 
 
 "Perhaps Coadley was shown that it would wreck 
 his future if he continued working for Prale." 
 
 "Well, you can't wreck my future, because I 
 haven't any," Farland told him. 
 
 "Do not be too sure of that, Mr. Farland. Agree 
 to my proposition and you may have a great future. 
 You may find business thrown your way. You 
 may find yourself able to spread out, have a pro- 
 tective service, become a wealthy man. If you give 
 up the Prale case, we'll see that you are paid cash 
 immediately, of course, in lieu of the fee you would 
 receive from Prale and considerably more than he 
 would pay you." 
 
 "I suppose that would appeal to a lot of men," 
 Jim Farland said, "but it isn't the right bait to use
 
 204 THE BRAND OF SILENCE 
 
 if you are eager to catch me. I have all the business 
 I want. I can make a living for myself and my small 
 family, and we do not hanker after riches. A larger 
 business would make me a human machine, and I'd 
 rather just drift along and be an ordinary good 
 husband and father. I'd rather be running a little, 
 third-rate detective agency as I am, making just 
 enough to get along, and have a lot of friends. I 
 wouldn't throw down a friend for a million dollars! 
 I suppose I'm the only man in town that thinks 
 this way, but I'm a sort of peculiar duck!" 
 
 "You mean to tell me that you are not anxious 
 to better yourself, to get along in the world?" 
 
 "Oh, I manage to get along!" Jim Farland re- 
 plied. "I even eat meat now and then. I haven't 
 seen the face of the famous wolf outside my door 
 for some time. What is money?" 
 
 "Everything!" the masked man replied. 
 
 "That's what you think. It gives me an inkling 
 as to what sort of man you are. I happen to know 
 a fellow to whom money is everything and I have 
 reason to suspect that he is considerably interested 
 in the case of Sidney Prale. Be careful you do not 
 betray your identity to me!" 
 
 Farland had the satisfaction of hearing the masked 
 man gasp, and he chuckled. 
 
 "Well, what is the proposition?" Farland inquired. 
 "You seem to waste a lot of time." 
 
 "We want you merely to tell Sidney Prale that 
 you will not work on the case any more that you 
 are done. Then go about your regular business.
 
 RECOGNITION 205 
 
 We'll have you watched, and as soon as we are 
 satisfied that you are keeping faith with us, we'll 
 send you ten thousand dollars in cash. If you make 
 the agreement with me, I'll give you a thousand 
 cash to-night before you leave this place, as a sort 
 of retainer and expression of our sincerity. Then, 
 following the fee of ten thousand dollars, you'll find 
 that much business is flowing your way. All you 
 have to do to get all this is to withdraw from the 
 Prale case at once." 
 
 "You must be afraid that I am finding out some 
 things," Jim Farland suggested. 
 
 "That is scarcely the reason," the masked man 
 answered. "We want Sidney Prale to stand alone, 
 to be without help of any sort that is all." 
 
 "But I am more than Sidney Prale's employee. 
 I am his friend!" Farland protested. 
 
 "You were his friend ten years ago, sir, but a 
 man may change a great deal in ten years. Are you 
 quite sure that the Sidney Prale of to-day is the 
 boyish, friendly Sidney Prale of ten years ago?" 
 
 "I am quite sure; and that is why I am trying 
 to help him," Jim Farland declared. 
 
 "I fear that he is fooling you as he is deceiving 
 others. He is not worthy of such friendship as you 
 are giving him." 
 
 "How do I know that?" Farland asked. "If I 
 could have some sort of an explanation " 
 
 He awaited the other's reply. If he could get 
 some inkling as to why Prale had powerful enemies, 
 it might help a lot. 
 
 "I can tell you this much: Sidney Prale did
 
 206 THE BRAND OF SILENCE 
 
 something that wrecked and ruined several lives. 
 Certain prominent persons have decided to punish 
 him. He is to have his life made miserable, he is 
 to have his fortune taken away from him, he is to 
 be subjected to petty annoyances and hard blows alike, 
 driven from this, his home town, forced to realize 
 that a man cannot do what he did and escape retri- 
 bution." 
 
 "Sounds like he murdered a nation!" Jim Farland 
 commented. "Did he wreck the national treasury 
 or turn traitor to the flag?" 
 
 "I am not jesting, Mr. Farland." 
 
 "Neither am I. My eyes have got to be opened, 
 sir. You've got to come clean with me. Prale's 
 enemies may strike at him from the dark, but Jim 
 Farland never works in the dark! I want to see 
 where I'm stepping. I never like to trip over any- 
 thing." 
 
 "I have told you all that I can at present." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 "Because I do not care to give you information 
 if you are still to work for Prale." 
 
 "You say that Prale knows his enemies and why 
 they are righting him. If he does, he never has 
 told me. Tell me that much since you say Sid 
 Prale knows it already. It couldn't hurt your side 
 at all." 
 
 "We might tell you later." 
 
 "You've got some very good reason for not telling 
 me!" Farland accused. "It is the truth, isn't it, that 
 Prale does not know a single thing about it. You 
 are afraid to tell me because I may inform him of
 
 RECOGNITION 207 
 
 what you say, and we may straighten out the tangle? 
 I can see through you, sir, as easily as through a 
 newly cleaned window." 
 
 "I see that you have faith in Sidney Prale," the 
 masked man said. "But I assure you that your faith 
 is misplaced. Is there any way in which I can get 
 you to stop your work for him?" 
 
 "Meaning against his influential enemies, or on 
 the Rufus Shepley murder case?" Farland asked. 
 
 "We simply want you to stop working for him. 
 If he stands alone, we can punish him the sooner." 
 
 "I understand about that, of course. But how 
 about the murder case? Do you think Sid Prale 
 is guilty of that crime?" Farland asked. 
 
 "I do not know, I am sure. I understand that 
 the evidence against him is damaging. But we are 
 not awaiting the outcome of that. He may manage 
 to have the charge against him dismissed, and we 
 are going ahead with our plans for punishment." 
 
 "Then you want me to quit Prale so I won't be 
 helping him work against his enemies, and not be- 
 cause you are afraid that, in clearing him of the 
 murder charge, I may find something detrimental to 
 other persons?" 
 
 "That is the idea," the masked man replied. "The 
 murder case can take care of itself, I suppose." 
 
 "Suppose I refuse to make this deal with you?" 
 
 "In that event, we may feel called upon to detain 
 you and perhaps to use further violence." 
 
 "Then you might as well start!" Jim Farland 
 cried. "For you are lying to me like blazes! It's 
 the murder case that's worrying you, and you know
 
 208 THE BRAND OF SILENCE 
 
 it! And I know you! I've been trying to place those 
 hands of yours and I have succeeded. Besides, you 
 have said one or two things that have convinced 
 
 me " 
 
 The masked man gave a shriek and started toward 
 the couch, his hands reaching out, clutching. Two 
 of the thugs ran in from the hall.
 
 CHAPTER XXII 
 
 AN UNEXPECTED VISITOR 
 
 TV7AITING in anticipation of hearing good news, 
 W Sidney Prale paced the floor of the living 
 room of his hotel suite until noon the following day, 
 expecting Jim Farland to put in an appearance at 
 any time and make his report. 
 
 Murk, having done all the work that there was to 
 do, spent the most of his time looking from the 
 window at the busy, fashionable avenue, and glancing 
 now and then at Prale as if wishing to anticipate 
 his wishes and save him the trouble of voicing 
 them. 
 
 Prale had luncheon served in the suite, and then 
 he stepped to the telephone and called Jim Farland's 
 office. Farland's stenographer informed him that the 
 detective had not been there during the morning, 
 though there was some business that needed his at- 
 tention. 
 
 Then Prale got Farland's residence on the tele- 
 phone, and the detective's wife answered the call. 
 Prale gave his name, and asked where Jim could 
 be found. 
 
 "That is more than I can tell, Mr. Prale," Mrs. 
 Farland said. "He got a telephone call last evening, 
 and from what I overheard I think he went some 
 place to meet a man. He left soon after he received
 
 210 THE BRAND OF SILENCE 
 
 the call, and I have not heard from him since. 
 That is peculiar, too. When he is obliged to remain 
 away, he generally finds time to telephone and let 
 me know." 
 
 This conversation bothered Sidney Prale, but he 
 tried to tell himself that Farland was following a 
 hot trail, and that perhaps it had led him some 
 distance away, or that he was in a locality where 
 he did not care to telephone. 
 
 He did not want to miss Farland if he did call, 
 and so he remained at the hotel during the after- 
 noon and kept Murk there also. 
 
 "I have a hunch that something is going to happen 
 soon," Prale said to his valet 
 
 "A little action wouldn't make me mad any!" 
 Murk declared. "I'm spoilin' to mix with the enemy, 
 Mr. Prale. Most of all, I'd like to meet up with 
 them two thugs that got gay with us. You're sure 
 about that Jim Farland, boss?" 
 
 "I've told you a hundred times, Murk, that Jim 
 Farland is my friend and as square a man as you 
 can find anywhere. He has not deserted us, if that 
 is the thought in your head." 
 
 "I'm beginnin' to like him a bit myself," said 
 Murk. "Ain't you got any idea, boss, who's en- 
 gineerin' this deal against you?" 
 
 "Once more, Murk, old boy, allow me to state 
 that I haven't the faintest idea who my enemies 
 are, or why they are trying so hard to make life 
 miserable for me. If I knew where to start to 
 round them up, I wouldn't be standing in this room 
 talking to you I'd be out rounding them up!"
 
 AN UNEXPECTED VISITOR 211 
 
 "Well, if you ask me, I think it's about time that 
 Farland settled that murder case," Murk said. "If 
 he don't get busy pretty quick, I'll tackle it myself. 
 I've got an idea " 
 
 The ringing of the telephone bell cut his sentence 
 off. Sidney Prale was near the instrument, and he 
 answered the call. 
 
 "Mr. Prale?" asked a man's voice. 
 
 "Talking." 
 
 "I just wanted to inform you that you needn't 
 depend on Detective Jim Farland any more. We've 
 got him and we'll get anybody else you engage. 
 And we'll get you, too, Mr. Prale, before very 
 long. Don't think we'll not!" 
 
 The man at the other end of the wire hung up his 
 receiver. Prale paced the floor and told Murk of 
 the conversation. 
 
 "They've got Farland!" Prale exclaimed. "They 
 probably got him last night, decoyed him in some 
 way. Well, Murk, if that is the truth, and I im- 
 agine that it is, we'll have to do our sleuthing our- 
 selves." 
 
 "Suits me !" Murk said. "I'm ready to start out 
 right now and sleuth until it's settled. Let's get in 
 action, boss!" 
 
 "We are in the same old quandary, Murk. We 
 don't know where to start," Sidney Prale said. "If 
 our foes would come out in the open, instead of 
 fighting from the dark, we might have a chance. 
 This is some city, Murk, and there are several 
 million persons in it and around it. Starting right
 
 212 THE BRAND OF SILENCE 
 
 in such a maze isn't the easiest thing in the world, 
 you know." 
 
 For the second time that afternoon, Murk was 
 interrupted by the ringing of the telephone bell, and 
 once more Sidney Prale happened to be near and 
 answered the call. 
 
 "Send them up at once!" Murk heard him say. 
 
 And then Sidney Prale hung up the receiver and 
 whirled around with a puzzled expression on his 
 face. 
 
 "Murk," he said, "Miss Kate Gilbert is coming up 
 here with that big maid of hers coming to see me. 
 What she wants is more than I can guess, remem- 
 bering what happened the last time I talked with 
 her. It may be good news, Murk!" 
 
 They waited impatiently for the ring at the door. 
 Murk opened it and ushered them in. 
 
 He grinned at the gigantic Marie, but she did not 
 return the compliment. There was a serious ex- 
 pression in her face, and Murk looked past her at 
 Kate Gilbert, who was being greeted by Sidney Prale. 
 
 Something important had happened, Murk told 
 himself immediately. Kate Gilbert did not look 
 frightened exactly or sorrowful or triumphant. There 
 was a peculiar expression about her mouth, and her 
 face seemed pale. 
 
 "I felt that I had to come, Mr. Prale, and have 
 this talk with you," Kate Gilbert said, when she 
 was seated near the window. "I wanted to speak to 
 you here instead of in some public place, and so I 
 brought Marie and came to your suite." 
 
 "You are welcome, Miss Gilbert, I am sure,"
 
 AN UNEXPECTED VISITOR 213 
 
 Prale said. "If you wish to speak in private, Marie 
 and Murk can step into the adjoining room." 
 
 "Please/' she said softly. 
 
 Murk opened the door, and the maid stepped in. 
 Then he followed and closed the door again. Prale 
 sat down near Kate Gilbert and turned toward her. 
 
 "Now, Miss Gilbert," he prompted. 
 
 She met his eyes squarely as she spoke, but her 
 lips trembled at times as if she were undergoing 
 an ordeal. 
 
 "Mr. Prale," she said, "as you know, I have 
 been associated with others in an attempt to bring 
 retribution home to you. When I became associated 
 with them, it was understood between us that there 
 was to be no violence, nothing outside the law. We 
 were simply to attack you from every angle, cause 
 you trouble and annoyance, take away your money 
 if we could, break you in every way." 
 
 "Pardon me, but " 
 
 "Please say nothing until I am finished, Mr. Prale. 
 We began at once to gather all the information 
 we could about you and your affairs. We began 
 to plan for your downfall. We found that we could 
 do nothing that amounted to anything while you were 
 in Honduras, where you were a powerful man. But 
 we were about to try, even there, when we learned 
 that you were selling out your properties and pre- 
 paring to return to New York. 
 
 "You may know how that struck us. You had 
 gone away and made your fortune, and you were 
 coming home, possibly with the hope that the past 
 had been forgotten. We intended showing you that
 
 214 THE BRAND OF SILENCE 
 
 it had not been forgotten, that you could not return 
 
 and enjoy the fortune whose foundation was 
 
 But enough of that! 
 
 "I had been in Honduras spying upon you. I 
 was sent because you did not know me, and would 
 not be on guard, as you might have been, had some 
 man gone down there. We did not care to send 
 an ordinary detective, of course. I kept the people 
 here informed of all your movements. I began the 
 punishment by leaving that note in your stateroom 
 and pasting the other on your suit case, began it by 
 reminding you that the past lived in the minds of 
 some persons. 
 
 "You know the rest. We began our work. We 
 caused you annoyance from the first, with the banker, 
 the hotel manager, and all that. Before we could 
 do any more, you were accused of murder. That 
 pleased us, of course. We did not believe you guilty, 
 but we were glad to see that you were being caused 
 some trouble, that your name was being stained. 
 Some of us even began to think that the law of retri- 
 bution was at Vork itself, without our poor help. 
 
 "We went ahead with our plans, however. You 
 engaged a prominent attorney, and finally we in- 
 duced him to leave you. But some who were han- 
 dling the affair went too far. You were assaulted 
 in Central Park. Your valet was knocked on the 
 head and kidnaped, and an attempt made to get him 
 to take payment and spy upon you. At that time 
 I told a certain man who had the handling of the 
 affair that there could be no more violence. 
 
 "We should not break a law to undo you, I
 
 AN UNEXPECTED VISITOR 215 
 
 declared. If we did that, we were as bad as you. 
 I said that, if there was any more violence, I should 
 cease having anything to do with the affair, and 
 would come to you and tell you so. An hour ago, 
 I found out that Detective Farland, a man in your 
 employ, had been seized and treated with violence 
 and was being held prisoner because he insisted upon 
 remaining loyal to you. So I am here!" 
 
 "This is amazing, Miss Gilbert!" Sidney Prale 
 told her. "The whole thing has been amazing. 
 Somebody has tried to connect me with that murder. 
 Somebody tried to smash my alibi. The little an- 
 noyances were bad enough, and the knowledge that 
 I had unknown foes who fought in the dark; but 
 the murder charge was the worst of all, for it placed 
 me in a position where I had to clear myself abso- 
 lutely or remain forever suspected by many persons." 
 
 "I understand that," Kate Gilbert said. 
 
 "And now you have come to me to say that you 
 are no longer associated with my enemies?" 
 
 "For what you did, there can be no forgiveness, 
 Mr. Prale. I want to see you punished. But I will 
 not be a party to violence. It seems to me that the 
 man who has been managing this affair has gone 
 beyond proper bounds. For some reason, he is par- 
 ticularly vindictive, though he did not suffer at all, 
 as did some of the others. I cannot forgive you 
 for what you did, Sidney Prale. But I can wash 
 my hands of the entire affair and try to forget you 
 entirely and hope that there is a law of retribution 
 that will take vengeance for me. That is all, Mr.
 
 216 THE BRAND OF SILENCE 
 
 Prale. Only please remember that, from this hour, 
 I am not concerned with the others in this affair." 
 
 She started to rise, but Prale motioned for her 
 to retain her seat. He bent forward and looked 
 at her searchingly. 
 
 "I am very glad that you have come here and 
 spoken to me in this way, Miss Gilbert," he said. 
 "I scarcely know how to express what I feel that 
 I must tell you. I have listened to you patiently, 
 without interruption. Will you be kind enough to 
 listen to me for a moment now?" 
 
 "I'll listen, though it will be useless," she said. 
 
 "When I left Honduras, Miss Gilbert, I was a 
 happy man. I had made my pile and was coming 
 home. I had left ten years before because a selfish 
 woman, whom I imagined I loved, jilted me for a 
 wealthier man. That wound had healed, and when 
 I left Honduras, I did not think that I had an enemy 
 in the world, unless it was some poor devil of a 
 disgruntled native workman I had been forced to 
 discharge, or somebody like that. 
 
 "I believed those notes on the ship to be in the 
 nature of a jest, or else that somebody was making 
 a mistake. Then troubles began, and I was at a 
 loss to understand them. Next came the murder 
 charge! We will put that aside for the moment, for 
 it seems to be the result of circumstantial evidence 
 and probably has nothing to do with the other affair 
 merely a coincidence. 
 
 "Miss Gilbert, look at me! I want you to believe 
 what I am going to say. You must believe it! In 
 the name of everything I hold sacred, I swear to you
 
 AN UNEXPECTED VISITOR 217 
 
 that I do not know these foes of mine, or the reason 
 for their enmity!" 
 
 "How can I believe that?" she cried. "Why should 
 you ask me to believe such a statement?" 
 
 "Because I want some light on this subject, Miss 
 Gilbert, and I am determined to get it. There is 
 some terrible mistake. I am being punished for the 
 fault of some other person." 
 
 "Can you not remember back ten years?" she 
 asked. 
 
 "Easily. I can live over again the last day I 
 spent in New York ten years ago." 
 
 "And the few days before that time?" 
 
 "Certainly, Miss Gilbert." 
 
 "And yet you ask why others should seek to punish 
 you? Perhaps you are one of those men whose 
 natures are so dishonorable that you think you did 
 nothing wrong at that time." 
 
 "So it was then that I was supposed to have done 
 this terrible thing whatever it was?" 
 
 "As you know, Mr. Prale." 
 
 "But I do not know, Miss Gilbert. To the best 
 of my recollection I left New York without having 
 done anything in the least dishonorable ; and certainly 
 I did nothing to merit a band of enemies working 
 against me." 
 
 "What is it that you wish me to do?" she asked. 
 
 "Be fair with me, Miss Gilbert. I tell you that 
 there is some terrible mistake! If I am supposed 
 to know all about this, what harm can there be in 
 your repeating the details to me? Tell me what 
 crime I am supposed to have committed to merit this
 
 2i8 THE BRAND OF SILENCE 
 
 attack. Give me a chance to prove my innocence! 
 The common thug gets that chance in a court of 
 law, you know." 
 
 "But this is ridiculous!" she exclaimed. "There 
 can be no question of it! The whole thing came out 
 at the time." 
 
 "Then you do not wish to be fair?" Prale asked. 
 
 "I cannot allow you to say that. I will tell the 
 story to you, Mr. Prale, tell exactly what you did 
 as you know very well if that will be any satis- 
 faction to you. But it will do you no good to 
 deny it!" 
 
 "Tell me!" Sidney Prale said.
 
 CHAPTER XXIII 
 
 A STARTLING STORY 
 
 THIS is a painful subject for me, as you must 
 be aware," Kate Gilbert said. "I shall tell the 
 story in as few words as possible, and if you are a 
 gentleman, you will not interrupt or cause me more 
 suffering by protesting your innocence." 
 
 "I promise not to interrupt," Sidney Prale replied. 
 "I want justice and nothing more, Miss Gilbert." 
 
 "Ten years ago you were a clerk in the office 
 of Griffin, the big broker, were you not?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Mr. Griffin took a fancy to you, after your 
 father died and left you alone in the world without 
 any money. He gave you odd jobs to do around 
 his residence, fed and clothed you and arranged it 
 so that you could go to school. Your uncle, the 
 father of George Lerton, your cousin, would do 
 nothing for you because there had been a family 
 quarrel several years before. 
 
 "Had it not been for Mr. Griffin you might have 
 been an ordinary street Arab. He sent you to a 
 business college after you had finished the public 
 schools, and then he took you into his office and 
 started you on a business career. 
 
 "You showed great promise, and Mr. Griffin was 
 delighted and advanced you rapidly. You seemed
 
 220 THE BRAND OF SILENCE 
 
 to know the meaning of gratitude and worked hard. 
 You were ambitious, too always said that some 
 day you would be worth a million dollars. 
 
 "Step by step, you went up the ladder. Then it 
 happened that your cousin, George Lerton, obtained 
 a position in the same office after his father's death. 
 He had had the advantage of a college education 
 and knew how to handle himself in the presence 
 of other men, and yet you, after your early strug- 
 gle and with an inferior education and inferior op- 
 portunities, easily outdistanced him. 
 
 "Other men began talking about you as a coming 
 man bankers and brokers, business men and finan- 
 ciers. Mr. Griffin finally gave you the post of chief 
 clerk and adviser. You worked hard and seemed to 
 be loyal and faithful. You got profits for your em- 
 ployer where other men would have caused losses. 
 So he let you more and more into his confidence. 
 
 "You got to know the secrets of big deals, the 
 inside facts of the country's finance. You spoke in 
 millions, but got only a nice salary. Your ambition 
 to be worth a million dollars seemed to be not sus- 
 ceptible of gratification. Yet you saved money, and 
 took advantage of small, solid investments now and 
 then. 
 
 "After a while you met a girl and fell in love 
 with her. She was the sort who wished wealth above 
 all, and you soon found that out. You became en- 
 gaged to her, however. Then a rival appeared in 
 the field, a wealthier man. You realized that the 
 girl was shallow in that she favored the man with 
 more money, but you were so infatuated that you
 
 A STARTLING STORY 221 
 
 overlooked that. You wanted the girl and, to get 
 her, you had to have more money. 
 
 "Then you began to feel dissatisfied. You didn't 
 want to grow gradually, as other men did. You 
 wanted the foundation for a fortune enough to 
 use in a plunge in the market. You wanted to be 
 rich as soon as possible. 
 
 "You began to think, perhaps, that you were not 
 getting ahead. You worked in an atmosphere of 
 wealth, you heard men speak in terms of millions, 
 while you had less than ten thousand dollars in the 
 bank. You began to think that Mr. Griffin should 
 do more for you, that he had not done enough. 
 You forgot that he had picked you up and made 
 you what you were, that you had so much more 
 than other men who had not been equally fortunate 
 in finding a sponsor." 
 
 She ceased speaking for a moment, but Sidney 
 Prale never took his eyes from her face. Be un- 
 grateful to Griffin? He never had dreamed of that! 
 He always had worshiped Griffin for what the broker 
 had done for him; he realized what he might have 
 been only for Griffin. But he had promised not 
 to interrupt, and so he said nothing, merely waited 
 for Kate Gilbert to continue her recital. 
 
 "You made certain plans," she went on. "Certain 
 big business deals were in the wind, and, as Mr. 
 Griffin's confidential and chief clerk, you knew all 
 about them. There were millions of dollars involved, 
 the control of several large companies, and more 
 than that; for Mr. Griffin and his associates were 
 fighting a group of financial thieves who were trying
 
 222 THE BRAND OF SILENCE 
 
 to wreck excellent properties for the sake of mak- 
 ing a gain. It was a fight for more than money 
 it was a fight to keep big business honest, to drive 
 off the wolves and make finance solid. It was a 
 tremendous thing ! 
 
 "And you, a boy picked up and educated by a 
 broker, who had risen through his kindness, knew 
 as much of the big deal contemplated as some of 
 the wealthiest and most influential men of the country. 
 There were men in the other group who would have 
 given a million gladly to know what you, a clerk, 
 knew. 
 
 "You were approached by one of that band of 
 financial wolves. You were willing to listen. You 
 wanted money because the girl with whom you were 
 infatuated demanded it before she would marry you. 
 You believed that Griffin had not done enough for 
 you and you agreed to sell him out him and his 
 associates." 
 
 Sidney Prale gasped, sat up straight in his chair, 
 opened his mouth as if to speak, but did not when 
 he saw the expression in her face. He decided to 
 keep his word. 
 
 "The agreement was made," she went on. "And 
 you, who could have demanded half a million easily 
 for the information you had, sold out your benefactor 
 and his friends and the decent element on the Street 
 for a paltry hundred thousand ! You sold your honor 
 and your manhood for that. 
 
 "At this juncture, the woman in the case informed 
 you that she wished to break the engagement, be-
 
 A STARTLING STORY 223 
 
 cause a man of money- your rival had asked her 
 to marry him, and she wanted his wealth. Instead 
 of seeing what sort of woman she was instead of 
 coming to your senses then and stopping your deal 
 with the other side you took the opposite course. 
 You would take the money, betray your benefactor 
 and his friends, and leave the country! With that 
 money as a foundation, you would build up a fortune. 
 And that is what you did, Sidney Prale! 
 
 "You arranged everything nicely. You gave those 
 men the information and received your hundred thou- 
 sand and then you quit your job and sailed away to 
 Honduras. 
 
 "The battle began on the Street, and because of 
 the information you had sold them, the financial 
 wolves got the better of the honest element. It was 
 a battle that lasted for two weeks. The wolves met 
 every move, because they knew everything that had 
 been planned. Fortunes were lost overnight. A 1 
 score of big, decent men were ruined in their attempt 
 to defeat the wolves and keep finance clean. 
 
 "Mr. Griffin, the man who had done everything 
 for you, went down in the crash because you had 
 sold him out! It was only five years ago that he 
 got new backing and fought his way up again. 
 Others went down with him, and some never regained 
 their footing because of what you had done, be- 
 cause you had played traitor! They knew there had 
 been a leak, and there was an investigation. You 
 had sailed away the day before the fight began, and 
 that looked suspicious, for you had made up your
 
 224 THE BRAND OF SILENCE 
 
 mind suddenly. Finally it was discovered that you 
 were the traitor in the camp! 
 
 "My father was one of Mr. Griffin's associates, 
 Mr. Prale. He lost his fortune, of course. We 
 could have endured that, but the blow cost him 
 his health. He was a giant of a man at that time, 
 the best father in the world. You should see him 
 now, Mr. Prale see what your treason made of 
 him. He is an invalid who sits all day in his wheel 
 chair. At times his mind wanders and he fights 
 that battle over again and calls curses down upon 
 the head of the man who played traitor! My big, 
 handsome, rich father is a broken, thin-faced man 
 whose voice is a whisper and whose hands tremble 
 because of what you did. You beast!" 
 
 She began sobbing softly as she glanced through 
 the window, and Sidney Prale started to get out of 
 his chair. But she faced him again quickly and 
 motioned for him to remain silent. 
 
 "You wanted to hear it, and so I shall tell it all !" 
 she declared. "You had been clever; you had done 
 this thing in such a manner than the law could not 
 touch you. Yet you must have been afraid of it, 
 for you fled the country. It was some time before 
 things were adjusted, and then those men you had 
 betrayed got together and determined to make you 
 pay! 
 
 "They told the story to others, and they began 
 gathering information about you. You were making 
 your million, all right, on the foundation that had 
 wrecked a score of fortunes and lives on treason
 
 A STARTLING STORY 225 
 
 instead of superior financial ability and they swore 
 that you should pay. 
 
 "They knew my father's story, of course, and 
 knew that we had very litle money. So they provided 
 for him, and gave me funds and sent me to Hon- 
 duras to spy upon you. Marie, my maid since girl- 
 hood, who worshiped my father and knew all the 
 circumstances, went with me. Soon after I reached 
 Honduras, I found that you were selling out with 
 the intention of returning to New York and enjoy- 
 ing your million. 
 
 "I communicated with the others and told them 
 all I knew of your plans, whereupon they made some 
 plans of their own. They won the sympathy of the 
 most influential men in the city. They determined 
 to make you pay! 
 
 "That is why the big trust company would not 
 accept your account. A whisper in the ear of the 
 hotel manager by the president of the company 
 that owned the hotel, and you were as good as or- 
 dered out. Can you understand now, Sidney Prale? 
 Coadley, the lawyer, was told that he will be made 
 a nobody by the influential men of the town unless 
 he ceased to work for you, and he dropped your case. 
 
 "But there was to be no violence, and because they 
 have descended to that, I have ceased to be interested 
 in the affair. I know nothing about the Shepley 
 murder case or any trouble it may have caused you. 
 That is quite another matter. Now that I have told 
 my story, I hope that you are satisfied. It has 
 shown you, I trust, that I know all, and that any 
 falsehood you may utter will have no effect on me."
 
 226 THE BRAND OF SILENCE 
 
 "I do not intend uttering a falsehood, Miss Gil- 
 bert," Sidney Prale assured her. "What you have 
 said has amazed and shocked me. So that is why 
 I was treated so badly upon returning to my home ?" 
 
 "Exactly," she said. 
 
 "Now listen to me one moment, I beg of you. 
 There is some mystery here, and though it is ten 
 years old, I shall solve it. Miss Gilbert whether 
 you believe me or not I am not guilty of such 
 treachery. I had no dealings with the financial 
 wolves. When I left the United States I took with 
 me the ten thousand dollars I had saved nothing 
 more. And I left nothing behind." 
 
 "You made a million in ten years with a capital 
 of ten thousand?" she asked, with a slight sneer. 
 
 "I did, Miss Gilbert! I can prove every transac- 
 tion, show you or anybody else exactly how I did it. 
 Disbelieve me or not, it is the truth that I am 
 innocent. If my people were sold out at that time, 
 somebody else got the selling price. I was chagrined 
 because my love affair had gone wrong. I shook 
 the dust of New York from my feet. I did not 
 even look at a New York newspaper for more than 
 a year. Somebody else got the money, and I got 
 a nasty name. And Mr. Griffin, who was as a father 
 to me, thinks that I was an ungrateful cur! 
 
 "This thing is hard to believe, Miss Gilbert. But 
 I never can thank you enough for telling me. I am 
 going to clear myself before I am done." 
 
 "I cannot believe you, Mr. Prale ! The proof was 
 there!"
 
 A STARTLING STORY 227 
 
 "And who furnished it?" he demanded. "Who is 
 handling this campaign of vengeance against me 
 now?" 
 
 "You scarcely can expect me to tell you that," 
 she said. "I am done have nothing more to do 
 with the affair but I am not going to be a traitor, 
 as you were !" 
 
 "If you ever are convinced, Miss Gilbert, that I 
 am entirely innocent, that somebody has put this 
 stain upon me for their own reasons, can I count 
 upon your friendship?" 
 
 "Convince me that injustice has been done you, 
 Mr. Prale, and I'll do everything in my power to 
 make amends and so will all the others!" 
 
 "Thanks for that assurance," Prale said. "I am 
 going to clear myself in your eyes, and in the eyes 
 of the others. I remember the details of that big 
 deal perfectly and I shall know how to start to 
 work." 
 
 "I cannot understand this," she said. "You speak 
 as if you were indeed innocent, but I cannot be- 
 lieve it!" 
 
 "I am innocent!" 
 
 "If so, who is guilty?" 
 
 "That is what I intend finding out." 
 
 "But you were in their confidence you knew all 
 the details of their financial plans," Kate Gilbert said. 
 "You were the only one who could have betrayed 
 them. You scarcely expect me to believe that they 
 betrayed themselves." 
 
 "Any spying clerk in the Griffin offices could have
 
 228 THE BRAND OF SILENCE 
 
 told the enemy enough to betray the plans," Prale 
 replied. "By the way, who is this man who goes 
 too far and insists upon using violence? Who is 
 the man who seems to be so extraordinary vindictive 
 toward me in this affair?" 
 
 "I can tell you nothing more," she declared. "It 
 would not be fair to them." 
 
 "But they have Jim Farland, and Heaven knows 
 what they are doing to him, simply because he will 
 not turn against me. Is it fair to Jim Farland's 
 wife and child?" 
 
 "I I am being kept informed," she assured him. 
 "If they treat Mr. Farland badly, or detain him 
 much longer, I shall speak. But until then, I have 
 nothing to say. You see, Mr. Prale, I cannot be- 
 lieve that you are innocent and have been misjudged. 
 The evidence against you is so conclusive, and I 
 have learned to hate you as the man who betrayed 
 his benefactor and friends and wrecked my father's 
 health. But, if you are innocent, I hope that you will 
 forgive me." 
 
 "I'll forgive you gladly," said Sidney Prale. "I 
 realize what you must have suffered, and what your 
 father must have suffered, too. I am going to prove 
 my innocence; and then I hope to claim you as one 
 of my friends." 
 
 "I am sorry that I cannot believe you," she said 
 again, "although I would like to. I would prefer 
 to think that no man could be so ungrateful as to 
 do such a thing. I'd like to have my faith in human 
 nature restored. If you prove your innocence, I 
 shall be very glad indeed!"
 
 A STARTLING STORY 229 
 
 Then she called for Marie, and when the maid 
 came from the adjoining room, Sidney Prale ushered 
 the two women to the door and watched as they 
 went down the hall toward the elevator. But Kate 
 Gilbert did not glance back.
 
 CHAPTER XXIV 
 
 HIGH-HANDED METHODS 
 
 SIDNEY PRALE closed the door and turned 
 around to face a grinning Murk. 
 
 "Some pair of chickens!" Murk said. "That Marie 
 girl may be a bear for size and strength, but she's 
 got a lot of good common sense. I'm strong for 
 her!" 
 
 "Sit down!" Prale commanded. 
 
 And then, walking up and down across the room, 
 he told Murk what Kate Gilbert had revealed to him, 
 simply because he felt that he had to tell it to some- 
 body. 
 
 "How is that for a dirty deal, Murk?" he asked 
 when he had finished. "Doesn't that make ordinary 
 dirty work look rather pale?" 
 
 "Who did it, boss? Name the gent, and I'll get 
 his address out of the city directory and pay him a 
 visit!" Murk said. "I'll have some things to say to 
 him and some things to do, maybe." 
 
 "I'm a sort of husky individual myself, Murk, and, 
 if I knew him, I think I'd beat you to it," Prale 
 replied. "Now we must get busy!" 
 
 "Just say the word, Mr. Prale. What is it to be?" 
 
 "I haven't quite decided yet, Murk. How far 
 will you go?"
 
 HIGH-HANDED METHODS 231 
 
 "I'll croak him, if it's necessary!" 
 
 "That'd be a bit too far, Murk, and might lead 
 to the electric chair and a far country. Let's take 
 a walk and think it over. We will confine ourselves 
 to the Avenue, and you may trail me as before. I 
 scarcely think they'll assault us on the Avenue." 
 
 Ten minutes later, Sidney Prale was walking down 
 the street, and the faithful Murk was trailing in his 
 wake, watching carefully. That walk lasted for an 
 hour. Then they returned to the hotel and Prale 
 ordered an early dinner. He did not say what he 
 had decided to do, despite Murk's hints that he 
 should state his plans. 
 
 But Murk had noticed that Prale had stopped in 
 at a printing office during the walk, and shortly 
 after they finished dinner, a bell boy brought a 
 small package to the suite. Prale unwrapped it, 
 and some cards spilled out. 
 
 "Nice cards, Murk," he said. "I had them printed 
 this afternoon. They bear the name of Horace 
 Greenman, whoever he may be, and state that he 
 is connected with the General Utilities Company 
 whatever that is." 
 
 "What's the big idea, Mr. Prale?" Murk asked 
 wonderingly. 
 
 "I wish to get into a certain place, Murk, and 
 I'd never do it if I send in my own card. What 
 time is it?" 
 
 "A few minutes of eight, sir." 
 
 "Then we'll be going. Let us hope that we find
 
 232 THE BRAND OF SILENCE 
 
 our man at home. If this happens to be his opera 
 or theater evening, we are going to be delayed." 
 
 Murk followed him down in the elevator and to 
 the street, where Prale engaged a taxicab. The 
 machine took them up past the Park and to an ex- 
 clusive residence section, where it stopped on a 
 corner. Prale and Murk got out, and Prale in- 
 structed the chauffeur to wait. Then he led the 
 way to the middle of the block. 
 
 "Murk, you remain just outside this gate," he 
 instructed. "If I have good luck, I'll come out 
 with a man, and I may want to take him with us. 
 Be ready to help in case I get in wrong." 
 
 "Sure thing, sir," Murk said. 
 
 Prale passed through the gate, went up the walk, 
 and lifted the knocker on the front door. A moment, 
 and a servant appeared and looked at him search- 
 ingly. 
 
 "I wish to see Mr. Griffin at once on important 
 business," Prale said. "Kindly take my card to 
 him." 
 
 Then Prale waited with his heart in his mouth. 
 Was Griffin at home? The servant instantly as- 
 sured him of that, and carried the card away. Prale 
 had written "Important Business" on it. 
 
 The servant returned soon and announced that 
 Mr. Griffin would see the visitor. Prale followed 
 him down the hall to the library. He was glad 
 that Griffin had chosen to receive him there, for 
 there was less likelihood of an interruption. The 
 servant opened the door, and Sidney Prale stepped 
 inside.
 
 HIGH-HANDED METHODS 233 
 
 Griffin was sitting beside the long table, and he 
 arose immediately and turned. 
 
 "You!" he gasped. 
 
 "Pardon the deception " 
 
 "James! James!" Griffin thundered. 
 
 The servant was in the room instantly. 
 
 "Show this fellow the door!" Griffin commanded. 
 "Look at him well, and never admit him again!" 
 
 James took a step forward and indicated the door. 
 But Sidney Prale reached into the pocket of his coat, 
 drew out an automatic pistol, and held it menacingly. 
 
 "Close the door, James softly!" he commanded 
 in a stern voice. "Now advance to the table and 
 stand where I can watch you. Don't you make a 
 move, Mr. Griffin! I used to handle men down in 
 Honduras, and I feel confident that I can take care 
 of this situation." 
 
 "You thug !" Griffin cried. "I'll have you sent up 
 for this, Prale, if it's the last thing I do !" 
 
 "I know that it is against the law to be carrying 
 a gun without a permit, but this situation demands 
 a show of force," Prale said. "I merely want you to 
 listen to me for a moment, Mr. Griffin." 
 
 "I don't want to hear anything you may have to 
 say to me, Sidney Prale!" the financier said. 
 
 "You are going to hear it, nevertheless! Mr. 
 Griffin, I did not know until this afternoon why I 
 had secret enemies and why they were trying to 
 cause me endless trouble. Miss Kate Gilbert was 
 kind enough to enlighten me." 
 
 "Well, sir?" 
 
 "I am sorry that you believe me guilty of such
 
 234 THE BRAND OF SILENCE 
 
 base ingratitude to you and of such dishonorable 
 conduct, for I am not guilty, Mr. Griffin! You 
 were like a father to me which was enough to 
 compel my loyalty and, aside from that, you had 
 taught me several things regarding honor in business 
 deals. I went away on the spur of the moment 
 because a woman had jilted me. But before I went, 
 I did not betray you and your associates." 
 
 "A likely story!" 
 
 "But a true one, Mr. Griffin! I did not sell 
 you out for a hundred thousand dollars or any other 
 sum. My conscience is clear, and I came back to 
 New York expecting to greet old friends and have 
 a pleasant time. You know what I found instead of 
 that happy state of affairs. I am not here to talk 
 at length. I demand a chance to prove my inno- 
 cence !" 
 
 "How can you do the impossible, sir?" 
 
 "It is not the impossible, Mr. Griffin! I intend 
 to prove to you that I was not disloyal, and then I 
 shall prove that I had nothing to do with the murder 
 of Rufus Shepley. I have an idea, sir, what is be- 
 hind all this." 
 
 "We are wasting time " 
 
 "I think not, sir! Time is not wasted in which a 
 man shows that he is not a scoundrel! I think you 
 owe it to me to give me a chance. You have con- 
 demned me unheard." 
 
 "I would give almost anything to have you prove 
 your innocence," Griffin said. "You don't know how 
 it hurt me. But the case against you was so strong 
 and is so strong "
 
 HIGH-HANDED METHODS 235 
 
 "Let us waste no more time," Prale said. "I re- 
 member the details of the big deal that was under 
 way when I left New York ten years ago. If you 
 recall, sir, I helped plan the campaign. If I can look 
 at papers in your office, I think I can show that I am 
 not guilty." 
 
 "I'd like to believe you, but this is preposterous!" 
 Griffin cried. "I tell you the evidence " 
 
 "It probably was strong, because the guilty man 
 wanted to make it so. Mr. Griffin, were I guilty I 
 should not be here. Please give me a few minutes, 
 and let us talk this over. Then, if you wish, we can 
 go to your office and continue the investigation." 
 
 Griffin sat down and motioned for Sidney Prale to 
 do the same. Prale returned the automatic to his 
 pocket, much to the relief of the servant. 
 
 Murk, standing outside by the gate, paced back 
 and forth and wondered whether he should attempt 
 to take the house by storm and rescue his employer. 
 The chauffeur, waiting at the corner, wondered 
 whether his fare had slipped down the next street 
 without paying the bill. Murk relieved him on that 
 point and threatened to beat him up because he inti- 
 mated that Prale might do such a thing. 
 
 It was more than two hours later when Prale left 
 the house and went out to the street. He paid the 
 chauffeur and dismissed him, and told Murk to return 
 to the hotel. Then he went back into the house and 
 joined Mr. Griffin again, and after Griffin had tele- 
 phoned several persons, he ordered his car, got into 
 it with Prale, and started downtown. 
 
 An astonished watchman took them up in an ele-
 
 236 THE BRAND OF SILENCE 
 
 vator in an office building in the financial district, and 
 a little later he took up several other gentlemen. 
 
 "Them financiers make me sick!" the watchman 
 told himself. "Why can't they lay their schemes in 
 the daytime?" 
 
 It was almost dawn when they left the building 
 and scattered. They had spent hours investigating 
 books and papers. Sidney Prale had even sent a 
 messenger to the hotel with an order to Murk for 
 certain books and papers of his own, and these had 
 been investigated, too. 
 
 "And there we are, gentlemen," Prale had said, at 
 the last. "I have shown you, I think, that I did not 
 do this thing. I do not want you to believe me fully 
 until I have proved my innocence by revealing the 
 man who is guilty. I merely ask you to give me a 
 fair chance to prove my case. I have told you my 
 suspicions. Now it is up to me to demonstrate 
 whether they are just or worthless." 
 
 Griffin had little to say as they rode back uptown. 
 But when he dropped Prale at the hotel just before 
 daylight, he gripped him by the hand. 
 
 "I want to believe you, Sidney!" he said. "I hope 
 that you have told me the truth. If you have, I hope 
 you'll be able to clear yourself. If you only can show 
 me that the boy I was glad to help was not ungrate- 
 ful, after all " 
 
 "I'll do it, sir!" 
 
 "And then I'll never forgive myself, Sidney!" 
 
 "You'll show your forgiveness by handling my 
 affairs for me, sir, in that event, and by treating me 
 as your son again!" Prale said.
 
 HIGH-HANDED METHODS 237 
 
 He hurried up to the suite. Murk had been sleep- 
 ing in a chair in the living room, as if expecting a 
 call at any moment. He was somewhat startled to 
 hear Sidney Prale whistling merrily at four o'clock 
 in the morning.
 
 CHAPTER XXV 
 
 AN ACCUSATION 
 
 SPRINGING toward him, the masked man stopped 
 two feet from the bound Jim Farland. 
 
 "So you think you know me, do you ?" he snarled. 
 
 "I have a pretty good idea," Farland said. "There 
 are only a few men in the city, to my knowledge, who 
 could be hired to do work like this, and it occurs to 
 me that I have seen those hands of yours before. I 
 think your face is in the rogues' gallery, too, if you 
 want to know!" 
 
 The masked man retreated for a few feet, evi- 
 dently relieved. 
 
 "So you'll not make terms with me," he said. 
 "You'd rather work for Sidney Prale, would you? 
 Perhaps we can change your mind." 
 
 "I doubt that like blazes !" 
 
 "You are going to be kept here as a prisoner until 
 I decide what is to be done with you." 
 
 He crossed over to the door, opened it, and called 
 to his men, two of whom responded. 
 
 "I want this man guarded well," he said. "I want 
 you to understand that I am holding you responsible 
 for him. I'll be back to-morrow evening and have 
 another talk with him. Give him something to eat 
 now and then, and fix him so he can sleep, but watch 
 him all the time!"
 
 AN ACCUSATION 239 
 
 "I was figurin' on goin' to the city this mornin', 
 boss," one of the men spoke up. 
 
 "You'll do as I say !" the masked man cried. 
 
 "But " 
 
 "Don't argue with me, you dog!" 
 
 Farland saw the man's eyes flash fire for a mo- 
 ment. And then the masked man faced toward him 
 again, his eyes glittering through his mask. 
 
 "Sometimes it isn't healthy to know whose picture 
 is in the rogues' gallery!" he said. 
 
 He went from the room. After a short argument 
 one of the men remained to guard Farland, and the 
 other went away. Farland spent a night of agony. 
 His guards fixed the bonds so that he could be a bit 
 more comfortable, and yet he got little sleep. 
 
 Jim Farland was considering a big idea now. He 
 had thrown the masked man off guard by intimating 
 that he might be a crook with a record, when, as a 
 matter of fact, the detective did not believe him to be 
 anything of the sort. Now Farland knew where to 
 begin working, but he had to win his freedom first. 
 
 Night passed, morning came, and the long day of 
 agony began. Farland had his hands untied and was 
 given some food. Then his wrists were lashed again 
 and his ankles loosened, and he was allowed to walk 
 around the room for an hour or so, two of the men 
 watching him closely. The one to whom the masked 
 man had applied the epithet, "dog," appeared surly. 
 
 After they had bound him again and stretched him 
 upon the couch, they guarded him one at a time, evi- 
 dently secure in the belief that he could not escape. 
 Jim Farland thought a day never had seemed so long.
 
 240 THE BRAND OF SILENCE 
 
 All the time he was busy with his thoughts. He had 
 a plan of campaign outlined now ; he wanted to be at 
 work. 
 
 Once more the evening came. Farland, who had 
 been sleeping for a few minutes, awoke and turned 
 over to find that his guard had been changed again. 
 The man who had been called a dog was on duty. 
 
 "How long are you going to keep me tied up like 
 this?" Jim Farland asked. 
 
 "Don't ask me. Ask the high and mighty boss," 
 was the sneering reply. 
 
 "You don't seem to stand very high with him." 
 
 "Aw, he makes me sick sometimes." 
 
 "It'd make me sick, too, if anybody called me a 
 dog," Farland declared. 
 
 The man before him did not reply to that, but 
 Farland could see the anger burning in his face. 
 
 "Come closer," Farland whispered. 
 
 The man obeyed instantly. 
 
 "Can anybody overhear what I say to you?" 
 
 "No. Everybody's gone but they'll be back 
 soon." 
 
 "Why are you working for these people?" 
 
 "Coin, of course and precious little of it I've seen 
 so far," was the reply. 
 
 "Then you haven't any other interest in this busi- 
 ness? Maybe we can make a deal." 
 
 "What sort of a deal?" 
 
 "The man I work for is worth a million," Farland 
 said. "Help me escape, and I'll give you five hun- 
 dred dollars." 
 
 "Got it with you?"
 
 AN ACCUSATION 241 
 
 "The biggest part of it," Farland replied. 
 
 He told the truth, too, for he always carried plenty 
 of money while working on a case. 
 
 "Suppose I simply take it away from you," the 
 guard said. 
 
 "In the first place, I don't think you are that kind 
 of a man. And you want to get square with the man 
 who called you a dog, don't you?" 
 
 "What's your scheme?" 
 
 "Simply let me go, right now. It is dusk outside 
 already. Tell me how to get to town the quickest 
 way. I'll give you almost all I have on me; I'll need 
 a little to use to get back to the city. To-morrow 
 I'll meet you some place and give you the rest. In 
 addition I'll give you a chance to get out without 
 being arrested for your part in abducting me and 
 holding me here." 
 
 The man spent a few minutes in thought. 
 
 "I'll fix you so you can slip your bonds/' he said, 
 "and I'll hand your automatic back to you. It is 
 there in the cupboard. But I don't want you to 
 make a get-away while I'm guarding you see? I 
 don't exactly love the man who'll guard you next 
 I'll fix it so you can handle him. Wait for five 
 minutes after he comes and I have gone. I will be 
 away for an hour or so, and the escape can happen 
 while I'm not here." 
 
 "That suits me," Farland said. 
 
 "What about the money?" 
 
 "You'll get it just as soon as I get my hands 
 loose." 
 
 The guard walked to the hall door and opened it,
 
 242 THE BRAND OF SILENCE 
 
 peered out into the hall and listened. Then he hur- 
 ried back to the couch and cut Jim Farland's bonds. 
 Farland took the money from one of his inside 
 pockets and handed it over. The guard got the 
 weapon from the cupboard and gave it to Farland. 
 
 The detective stretched himself down on the couch 
 again, and the guard adjusted the ropes on his ankles 
 and wrists so that they would appear to be all right. 
 Farland slipped the automatic beneath the small of 
 his back, where he could reach it quickly. 
 
 It was half an hour later before the guard was 
 changed and Farland's friend hurried away, warning 
 him with a glance that he should not make a move 
 too soon. He had declined to meet the detective the 
 following day and get the few dollars still due him; 
 he would rather use what he already had in getting 
 out of town, he had said. 
 
 Farland made no attempt to talk with the new 
 guard. He pretended to be tired, almost exhausted 
 and sleepy. The guard sat beside the table, smoking 
 and glancing at a newspaper now and then, appar- 
 ently of the opinion that Farland was safely a 
 prisoner. 
 
 After waiting for about half an hour, the detective 
 began moving his ankles and wrists gently. Gradu- 
 ally the ropes fell away. He reached one hand be- 
 neath his back and grasped the automatic. Then he 
 sat up quickly on the couch and covered the guard. 
 
 "Put 'em up!" he commanded. 
 
 The guard whirled from the table and sprang to 
 his feet, surprise written on his countenance. Far- 
 land had arisen now, and advancing toward him.
 
 AN ACCUSATION 243 
 
 "Walk past me to the couch!" the detective com- 
 manded. 
 
 The guard started to obey. He was holding his 
 hands above his head and seemed to be afraid that 
 his captor would shoot. But as he came opposite 
 Farland, he lurched to one side and made an attempt 
 to grapple with him. 
 
 The detective did not fire. He sprang aside him- 
 self, swung the automatic, and crashed it against the 
 other man's temple. The guard groaned once and 
 dropped to the floor. 
 
 "Thought you might try something like that!" Jim 
 Farland growled. "Couldn't have pleased me better 
 won't have to waste time tying you up now. You'll 
 be dead to the world for a few minutes at least!" 
 
 Farland darted to the door, opened it, went into 
 the hall and closed the door again. He passed 
 through the house noiselessly. He could hear two 
 men in conversation in a rear room, and he knew 
 that he would have to be cautious until he was at 
 some distance from the old dwelling, unless he 
 wanted a battle on his hands. 
 
 He got out of the place without being discovered, 
 and reached the edge of a grove not far away. There 
 he found the lane, and near the end of it was a 
 powerful roadster, its engine dead and its lights ex- 
 tinguished. 
 
 Farland listened a moment, then went forward and 
 examined the machine. He knew the model, and he 
 was an excellent driver. Once more he stopped to 
 listen. Then he sprang behind the wheel and oper- 
 ated the starter.
 
 244 THE BRAND OF SILENCE 
 
 He drove slowly down the lane, the engine almost 
 silent, the car traveling slowly. He proceeded in that 
 manner until he had reached the highway. There he 
 switched on the lights, put on speed, and sent the 
 powerful car roaring along the winding road toward 
 the river. 
 
 Jim Farland, being a modest man, never did tell 
 the entire story of that night. He drove like a fiend, 
 narrowly escaping collision a score of times. He 
 made his way along the roads running alongside the 
 broad river, and finally came opposite the city. He 
 crossed over a bridge, drove through the streets with 
 what speed he dared, left the car at a public garage 
 with certain instructions, and hurried to a telephone. 
 
 He was unable to get either Sidney Prale or Murk, 
 for at that hour they were on their way to the Griffin 
 residence. Farland telephoned to his wife to say that 
 he was all right, but would not be home until some 
 time during the day. Then he engaged a taxicab and 
 began his work. 
 
 He knew where to start now. An idea had come 
 to him in that old house far up the river, a suspicion, 
 a feeling of certainty that he was on the right track. 
 Jim Farland was no respecter of persons that night. 
 
 When morning came he stopped only for a cup 
 of coffee, and then worked on. He dashed from one 
 place to another, running up a taxicab bill that made 
 the chauffeur smile. He interviewed important gen- 
 tlemen, threatening some and cajoling others, but 
 always getting the information that he desired. 
 
 At two o'clock the following afternoon he stood
 
 AN ACCUSATION 245 
 
 on a certain corner near Madison Square, his sus- 
 picion almost proved, his investigation at an end. 
 
 "Now for the big bluff!" Jim Farland said to 
 himself. 
 
 He fortified himself with another cup of coffee, 
 got into the taxicab again, and started downtown. 
 He was smoking one of his big, black cigars, puffing 
 at it as if in deep contentment, not looking at all like 
 a man who had been kept a prisoner a night and a 
 day, and had been busy since that experience. 
 
 The taxicab stopped before an office building, as 
 Jim Farland had ordered. The detective pulled out 
 his last money and paid the chauffeur. 
 
 "You're got more coming, son, but this is all I 
 have with me," Farland said. "Drop in at my office 
 any time after ten to-morrow morning and get it." 
 
 "Yes, Mr. Farland and thanks!" 
 
 "You're a good boy, but keep your mouth shut!" 
 Farland told him. 
 
 Then he hurried into the office building, went to 
 the elevator nearest the entrance, and ascended to the 
 floor where George Lerton had his suite of offices. 
 
 The office boy stepped to the railing. 
 
 "Mr. Lerton busy?" Farland asked. 
 
 "He is alone in his private office, sir," said the 
 boy, who regarded the detective with admiration and 
 awe. After Farland's other visit, the youth had de- 
 cided to be a detective when he grew up. 
 
 "I am to go right in important business," Far- 
 land said. "Never mind announcing me." 
 
 The willing boy opened the gate, and Farland hur- 
 ried across to the door of the private office. He
 
 246 THE BRAND OF SILENCE 
 
 paused there a moment and seemed to pull himself 
 together, as if making sure before entering the room 
 of questions he wanted to ask and information he 
 wanted to gather. Then he threw the door open, 
 stepped quickly inside, closed the door, and turned the 
 key. 
 
 Lerton was sitting at his desk with his back to the 
 door. He made no move until he heard the key 
 turned. Then he whirled around in his desk chair. 
 
 "I Great Scott, Farland, how you startled me!" 
 he exclaimed. "I thought it was my secretary." 
 
 "Pardon me for butting in this way, but I am in 
 a deuce of a hurry and told the boy it was all right," 
 Farland said. 
 
 "You'll smash my office discipline doing things 
 like this. But, sit down, man! What is it now? 
 Has that cousin of mine been acting up again, or 
 are you going to pester me with a lot of fool ques- 
 tions about things I don't know anything about?" 
 
 Farland had seated himself in the chair at the end 
 of the desk, within four feet of George Lerton. He 
 had tossed his hat to a table and twisted the cigar 
 into one corner of his mouth. Now he stared Lerton 
 straight in the eyes. 
 
 "You look like a madman!" Lerton said. "Why 
 on earth are you looking at me like that? You look 
 as if you were ill " 
 
 The expression in Farland's face made him stop, 
 and he appeared to be a bit disconcerted. 
 
 "Why did you kill Rufus Shepley?" Jim Farland 
 demanded suddenly in a voice that seemed to sting.
 
 AN ACCUSATION 247 
 
 Lerton's face went white for an instant. His jaw 
 dropped and his eyes bulged. 
 
 "Are are you insane?" he gasped. "What on 
 earth do you mean by this ? I'll call a clerk and " 
 
 "The door is locked," Farland said, taking the au- 
 tomatic from his pocket. "You raise your voice, 
 touch a button or make any move that I do not like, 
 and I'll plug you and say afterward that I had placed 
 you under arrest and had to shoot when you tried to 
 escape. Answer my question, Lerton! You are at 
 the end of your rope! Why did you kill Rufus 
 Shepley and then try to hang the crime on your 
 cousin, Sidney Prale?" 
 
 "This is preposterous!" Lerton exclaimed. 
 
 "Oh, I've got the goods on you, Lerton! I 
 wouldn't be here talking like this if I didn't! You're 
 going to the electric chair!" 
 
 Lerton laughed rather nervously. "I always 
 thought that you were a good detective, Jim, but I 
 am beginning to have doubts now," he said. "What 
 has put such an idea into your head?" 
 
 "Facts gathered and welded together," Farland 
 told him. "Don't try to carry out the bluff any 
 longer, Lerton. And don't call me Jim. I never 
 allow murderers to get familiar with me!" 
 
 "This has gone far enough!" the broker exclaimed. 
 "I'll have to ask you to leave my office, sir!" 
 
 "I expect to do that little thing before long, and 
 you are going with me," Farland said. 
 
 There was a knock at the door.
 
 CHAPTER XXVI 
 
 THE TRUTH COMES OUT 
 
 FARLAND did not take his eyes off George 
 Lerton. 
 
 "If you have touched a button and called some 
 fool clerk, I'll manhandle you !" he promised. "Kindly 
 consider yourself a prisoner!" 
 
 The knock was repeated, and Farland, still keeping 
 his eyes on the man at the desk, backed to the door 
 and turned the key. Then he took up a position 
 where he could continue watching George Lerton and 
 keep an eye on the door at the same time. 
 
 "Come in!" he called. 
 
 The door was hurled open. At the same instant, 
 the office boy who had opened it was thrust aside. 
 Sidney Prale sprang into the private office and stood 
 glaring at his cousin. Behind him was Murk, and 
 behind Murk were Kate Gilbert and her maid. 
 
 "Quite a gathering!" Farland said, grinning. "I'm 
 glad that you are here. Kindly close and lock the 
 door, Murk, with that young office gentleman on the 
 outside!" 
 
 Murk obeyed. George Lerton sprang to his feet. 
 
 "What is the meaning of this intrusion?" he de- 
 manded. "Has my office been turned into a rendez- 
 vous for maniacs?" 
 
 "Sit down!" Sidney Prale cried. He had not
 
 THE TRUTH COMES OUT 249 
 
 taken his eyes off Lerton, had not even turned to 
 speak to Jim Farland, had not even wondered how 
 Farland had escaped and come here. 
 
 Lerton dropped back into his chair, wetting his 
 thin lips, his eyes furtive now. 
 
 "You miserable cur!" Sidney Prale went on, ad- 
 vancing toward his cousin. "I should handle this 
 affair myself. I should have you in Honduras, and 
 fasten you to a tree and beat you until you are sense- 
 less." 
 
 'These insults " 
 
 "Are deserved, you beast!" Prale cried. "So, 
 when I went away ten years ago, you sold out Mr. 
 Griffin and put the blame for it on me, did you? 
 You wrecked that good man's faith in me, turned 
 influential men against me, had me persecuted when 
 I returned." 
 
 Jim Farland gave a shout of delight. "That right, 
 Sid?" he cried, "Then I have the connecting link! 
 So George Lerton has been causing you all this trou- 
 ble, has he? I understand a lot more now. Lerton 
 killed Rufus Shepley, also!" 
 
 "It's a lie! You are trying to save Prale by ac- 
 cusing me!" Lerton cried. 
 
 "Why, we've got you, you weak fool!" said Far- 
 land. "I knew you in that old farmhouse despite 
 your mask. Your hands gave you away I recog- 
 nized them." 
 
 "And he's the man who tried to bribe me!" Murk 
 cried. "I can tell it by his hands, too !" 
 
 "You tried to smash Prale's alibi," Jim Farland 
 continued. "You had him followed that night and
 
 250 THE BRAND OF SILENCE 
 
 you sent those notes to the barber and the clothing 
 merchant, with money in them." 
 
 "And you betrayed yourself when you began using 
 violence," Prale put in. "You were too vindictive. 
 You showed that you had some good reason of your 
 own for wanting to drive me away from New York 
 quickly !" 
 
 "Oh, we've got you!" Farland repeated. "You 
 are as good as in the electric chair now!" 
 
 George Lerton looked as if he might have been in 
 it. He was breathing in gasps, and his face was 
 white. His eyes held an expression of terror. 
 
 "I guess you've got me!" he said. "But I'll never 
 go to the chair!" 
 
 Farland stepped across to him. "Get it off your 
 chest!" he suggested. 
 
 "I I'll talk about it yes!" George Lerton said. 
 "I I sold out Griffin. I wanted money, and I hated 
 Griffin because he had put Sidney Prale over me. 
 Then Sid had his trouble with the girl and ran away. 
 I fixed things so it looked as if he had been the 
 guilty one. 
 
 "I pretended to hate Sid for what he was sup- 
 posed to have done. I suggested the scheme of 
 vengeance, and worked to get the influential men to- 
 gether. Then he came back with his million. I 
 hated him all the more because of that. I was afraid 
 that, if he remained in New York, he would find 
 out the truth and I'd be exposed. I knew what that 
 would mean, and I was beginning to get rich. 
 
 "So I had him followed and watched. I trailed 
 him myself and met him on Fifth Avenue, and tried
 
 THE TRUTH COMES OUT 251 
 
 to get him to go away, and afterward denied that I 
 had seen him at all, for he was accused of the mur- 
 der of Rufus Shepley." 
 
 "Which was your deed!" Farland put in. "Go 
 ahead tell it all. Let us see whether you were 
 clever or merely an amateur at crime." 
 
 "Oh, I was clever enough!" Lerton boasted. "I 
 I killed Shepley because he was about to have me 
 arrested for embezzlement. I had been handling a 
 vast sum for him, aside from his regular business. 
 While he was traveling, I speculated with the money 
 and lost. He knew it. I could not repay. 
 
 "I had an engagement with him that night at the 
 hotel. The detective I had working for me had re- 
 ported that Sid had had a quarrel with Shepley, and 
 where he had gone afterward and what he had done. 
 There I saw my chance. 
 
 "I did not have myself announced at Shepley's 
 hotel. I knew where his suite was, so I slipped up to 
 it without anybody seeing me, and knocked at the 
 door. He admitted me. I begged him to give me a 
 little time to repay the money, but he would not. He 
 called me a thief, and said that I must go to prison, 
 that he would not have a hand in letting me remain 
 at liberty to rob other men. 
 
 "There was a steel letter opener on the table. I > 
 I stabbed him with it, and then I got away by the 
 fire escape. Nobody saw me. I left him there dead. 
 I was almost frantic when I reached home. Then I 
 saw how I could have Sidney Prale accused and re- 
 move the menace of his presence also. I would be 
 safe if Prale were convicted of the murder. I would
 
 252 THE BRAND OF SILENCE 
 
 not have to repay the Shepley money, and Prale never 
 could reveal that I had betrayed Mr. Griffin and the 
 others instead of him. 
 
 "So I sent the notes and money to the barber and 
 clothing merchant, and they denied that Prale had 
 visited them, thus smashing his alibi. I denied that 
 I had met him on the Avenue. I thought that I was 
 safe. But the barber and merchant told Farland the 
 truth, and the police began to think that Sid was not 
 guilty. 
 
 "I grew almost frantic then. My one hope was in 
 running Sid out of town as quickly as possible, and 
 so I did everything I could think of to bring about 
 that end." 
 
 "How about that fountain pen found beside the 
 body?" Farland asked. 
 
 "When I was talking to Sid that night on the 
 Avenue, his coat was open and I saw the pen. Some- 
 thing seemed to tell me to take it, that it might be 
 used against him some time. As I clutched his lapel, 
 begging him to leave town, I took the pen from his 
 pocket." 
 
 "Nothing but a plain dip, after all!" Farland 
 sneered. 
 
 "I dropped it beside the body after I had killed 
 Shepley. It was a part of my plan. And and I 
 guess that is all!" 
 
 "I guess it is!" Sidney Prale said. "Mr. Griffin 
 and I, and some other men, made a little investigation 
 last night and continued it this morning. We found 
 that you were the traitor who caused that financial 
 smash ten years ago. It may please you to know
 
 THE TRUTH COMES OUT 253 
 
 that Mr. Griffin is my friend again, and that others 
 are being informed of my innocence. Even Coadley 
 has come to me and asked to take my case again. 
 But I was clearing myself of the charge of business 
 treason, and nothing more. I did not connect you 
 with the murder of Shepley." 
 
 "Well, I did connect him with it," Farland put in. 
 "But when I sprung it on him here this afternoon, I 
 was running a bluff. I had some evidence, but not 
 enough to convict. You might have got away with 
 it, Lerton, if you had had any nerve. But you hap- 
 pen to be a rank coward and a guilty man!" 
 
 "You you " George Lerton gasped. 
 
 He had been holding two fingers in a pocket of his 
 waistcoat. Now he withdrew them and, before Far- 
 land could reach him, he had swallowed something. 
 
 "You'll never " he began, and then his head 
 
 fell forward to the desk. "Get the ladies outside, 
 Murk!" Farland commanded suddenly. "And tell 
 that secretary out there to send in a call for a phy- 
 sician and the police. Lerton was right he'll never 
 go to the electric chair!" 
 
 Ten minutes later, Sidney Prale and Murk were 
 waiting for the elevator with Kate Gilbert and Marie, 
 but each couple was standing at some distance from 
 the other. 
 
 "I have proved my innocence, and now I ask you 
 to remember your promise and grant me your friend- 
 ship," Prale was telling Kate Gilbert. 
 
 "I shall remember," she said. "You have my ad-
 
 254 THE BRAND OF SILENCE 
 
 dress, haven't you? If you haven't, ask Murk. He 
 knows it. You sent him to spy on me, remember." 
 
 "Jim Farland did that," Prale protested. 
 
 Murk was talking to the gigantic Marie at that 
 moment. 
 
 "You're mighty nice!" he was saying. "Say, I'd 
 like to see you some more. I've got an idea my boss 
 will be calling on your mistress, and when he does I 
 might come up to the corner, and you might slip out 
 and meet me, and we might take a walk in the Park. 
 You wouldn't want to stay in the apartment and 
 bother them, would you?" 
 
 "It would be a shame!" said Marie. "Which cor- 
 ner, Murk?" 
 
 THE END
 
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