"We are not at all a.s.sured that he did so," returned Ashton-Kirk.

"However, it was in his possession, no matter how it came there; and he had reasons for desiring to conceal it. The scapular which hung about his neck was a most likely place for this, being but several thicknesses of cloth st.i.tched together. He cut some of these st.i.tches, laid the paper between the layers of cloth and sewed them together once more."

"And," said Fuller, excitedly, "when he came to give the paper to Dr.

Morse, he gave the emblem and all."

"Exactly. And judging from Dr. Morse's lack of light afterward, the elder Drevenoff said nothing about the paper itself. Of course he had an object in entrusting the scapular to the Englishman; this was, doubtless, that it be handed on to some third person, unknown to us.

"Then the j.a.panese government somehow got wind of the matter; and Okiu, their most acute agent, was a.s.signed to secure the doc.u.ment. Like most artists, Okiu believes, so it seems, in preparing his material before he sets about using it; and this process in his hands has had a peculiarly Oriental tinge. True to his racial instinct his methods took an insidious, indirect form, a sort of preliminary torture, as it were, and this accounts for the series of enigmatic sketches with which Dr. Morse was persecuted during the last weeks of his life."

"But," said Fuller, somewhat at loss, "just how does all this a.s.sure you that Miss Corbin now has the paper?"

"I am coming to that," said Ashton-Kirk. "You recall, I suppose, what I told you regarding the scapulars, their different origins, devices and colors."

"Yes."

"There is one made of scarlet cloth--the 'Scapular of the Pa.s.sion.' This is the one affected by Colonel Drevenoff; for it was one of this type which Miss Corbin took from its hiding-place. My lens showed me some fine scarlet strands adhering to some fragments of wax at the mouth of the candlestick; and as if this were not enough, I also saw the impression of a row of st.i.tching, such as runs along the scapular's edge, upon a deposit of wax at the bottom of the socket."

"It seems incredible to me," said Fuller, "that a girl of Miss Corbin's sort should have a hand in an affair like this. But then," with a shake of the head, "I suppose her love for this fellow Warwick accounts for it. Many a man has been ruined by love of an unworthy woman, and many a woman, no doubt, by love of an unworthy man."

But to all appearances the secret agent did not follow these moralizings with any great attention. The big lamps upon the car threw their long white rays along Berkley Street; and while his mind was apparently engaged upon other things, the eyes of Ashton-Kirk followed the stretch of illuminated s.p.a.ce to the end. Now he got out, and said to the chauffeur:

"Move ahead very slowly."

With eyes fixed upon the dusty asphalt, the secret agent walked ahead of the car. The lights of the latter threw everything they fell upon into sharp relief. At the curb before Okiu's house, Ashton-Kirk held up his hand, and the car halted.

"What is it?" asked Fuller.

"I caught the tire tracks of another car below there; they were so clear and uncut by other marks that I fancied that they might have been made late at night."

"Do you now think they were?"

"I can't say. But they lead up to this point. A halt was made, then the machine turned and doubled on its tracks."

Some distance up the street on the opposite side, a flare of red and green light caught the speaker's attention. It came from a drug store, and with Fuller he crossed the street and entered. A white-jacketed clerk stood behind a marble covered counter, and served them with the cigars which they asked for. Ashton-Kirk lighted his at a swinging gas flame near the door and drew at it with enjoyment.

"Rather out of the way for an all-night place, isn't it?" he asked

The clerk shrugged his shoulders.

"It's not a big payer after about nine o'clock," said he. "But you see, it is one of a chain of stores, and the company's policy is to keep open all the time."

"I see."

"We do some business by not closing, but not enough to shatter any records. This isn't the swiftest place on earth, you know."

"I suppose not."

"Your car will make some talk to-morrow," smiled the clerk. "They'll all be wondering who was up at such an hour as this. And those who heard you will feel that they have something on those who did not."

"I shall be a thrilling sort of a person, then," smiled Ashton-Kirk. "I suppose," after a moment, "that you do not have many automobiles pa.s.s through Eastbury at night?"

"Not after early evening. But yours is the second to-night--or rather this morning," with a look at the clock.

Fuller darted a rapid glance at the secret agent; but the latter displayed no eagerness. Placing his cigar upon the edge of the counter, he began carefully rearranging a frayed end of the bandage about his head.

"Two, eh?" was all he said.

"I didn't see the other myself," said the drug clerk. "But _it_ stopped over at the j.a.panese, too, so old Patterson, the watchman, told me. That was a couple of hours ago."

Ashton-Kirk had finished with the bandage and surveyed it, in a mirror, with an air of satisfaction. Then taking up his cigar once more, he remarked:

"Stopped there, too, did it? Humph! I wonder if any one got in?"

"Patterson said there were two persons came out of the house, but only Mr. Okiu got into the taxi. The other one walked up the street. But,"

and the clerk wagged his head in humorous appreciation, "that's not the funny part of the thing."

"No?"

"It was the girl," said the clerk, a broad smile upon his face.

Again Fuller darted the inquiring look at the secret agent; but even at this he did not display any indications of marked interest.

"There was a girl, was there?" was all Ashton-Kirk said.

The clerk nodded.

"Patterson is a funny old scout, there's no use talking," said he.

"He's got such a comic way of looking at things. And where he gets all his expressions is more than I can say."

"I'd like to hear him tell about it," said Ashton-Kirk.

"He's taking a sleep in the back room," said the clerk, with a wink.

"I'll try and get him out."

He disappeared and in a few moments returned, followed by a short, ruddy-faced old man with a short-clipped white moustache.

"Oh, the j.a.p and the taxi," said he, when the matter was explained to him. "Yes, that was a queer kind of a little thing." He looked at the secret agent in a knowing sort of way, and then proceeded: "You can't keep track of everybody, no matter how hard you try. I've been noticing that j.a.p, because he _was_ a j.a.p, ever since he came into this neighborhood, but I never give him credit for this."

"Have a cigar?" suggested Ashton-Kirk.

The private watchman bit the end off the cigar and lit it with much care.

"I smoke a pipe most of the time," said he, "but I like a cigar once in a while." He puffed it into a glow, and then went on: "That taxi to-night turns around and starts down the street and around the corner toward Fordham Road. And just as it turns the corner I notices a chicken standing there--regular broiler with a veil on and a little bag in her mit. She starts up Berkley toward where I'm standing, but before she gets half-way I heard the buzzing of the taxi once more; around it came again into Berkley and shot up to the curb abreast of the girl.

"She stopped like a flash, the j.a.p threw open the door, and she gave a little yelp as though she was just about as glad as she'd ever been in her life. Then she jumped into the taxi, the door shut and around the corner it whirled and was gone. There's no use talking," said the speaker and he shook his head in a way that convulsed the drug clerk, "you can't never tell anything about human nature."

Ashton-Kirk b.u.t.toned up his coat.

"In that," said he, "I thoroughly agree with you. Human nature is a thing which we can base little upon with safety." Then to Fuller he added: "Come! I think we have some work ahead of us."