"You are right, Quentin, you're right," he wheezed. "We did not support you, and we are to blame. You did the brave and proper thing, and we stood by like a lot of noodles--"

"Well, it's all over, Knowlton, and we all did the best we could,"

responded Philip, with intense sarcasm which was lost on Mr.

Knowlton. Just then a st.u.r.dy little figure b.u.mped against him and he looked down as the newcomer grasped his arm tightly.

"h.e.l.lo, Turk! It's about time you were showing up. Where the devil have you been?" exclaimed he, wrathfully.

"I'll tell y' all about it w'en I gits me tires pumped full agin.

Come on, come on; it's private--strictly private, an' n.o.body's nex'

but me." When there was a chance to talk without being overheard by the three discomfited gentlemen in the rear, Turk managed to give his master a bit of surprising news.

"That guy was Courant, that's who he was. He's been right on your heels since yesterday, an' I just gits nex' to it. He follers you up to th' house back yonder an' there's w'ere I loses him. Seems like he hung aroun' the porch er porticker, er whatever it is over here, watchin' you w'en you wuz inside. I don't know his game, but he's th' guy. An' I know w'ere he is now."

"The d.i.c.kens you do! You infernal little scoundrel, take me there at once. Good Lord, Turk, I've got to catch him. These people will laugh at me for a month if I don't. Are you sure he is Courant? How do you know? Where is he?" cried Phil, excited and impatient.

"You ain't near bein' keen. He doubled on you, that's w'at he done.

W'en you chased him off on that side street he just leaps over th'

garden wall an' back he comes into a yard. I comes up, late as usual, just in time t' see him calmly prance up some doorsteps an'

ring th' bell. Wile th' gang an' you wuz lookin' fer him in th'

gutters an' waste paper boxes, he stan's up there an' grins complackently. Then th' door opens an' he slides in like a fox."

"Where is the house? We must search it from top to bottom."

"Can't do that, Mr. Quentin. How are you goin' to search that house without a warrant? An' w'at are you goin' to find w'en you do search it? He's no common thief. He's in a game that we don't know nothin'

about, an' he's got cards up his sleeve clear to th' elbow. Th'

people in that house is his friends, an' he's safe, so w'at's th'

use? I've got th' joint spotted an' he don't know I am nex'. It's a point in our favor. There wuz a woman opened the door, so she's in th' game, too. Let's lay low, Mr. Quentin, an' take it cool."

"But what in thunder was he doing behind those palms? That wasn't a very sensible bit of detective work, was it?"

"Most detectives is a.s.ses. He was hidin' there just to earn his money. To-morrow he could go to th' juke an' tell him how slick he'd been in hearin' w'at you said to th' young lady w'en you thought n.o.body was listenin'. Was he hid near a window?'

"Just below one--almost against the casing."

"Easy sailin'. He figgered out that some time durin' th' night you an' her would set in that window an' there you are. See? But I wonder w'at he'll say to th' juke to-morrow?"

"I hate to give this job up," growled Phil. "But I must get back to the hotel. The villain cut me with a knife."

By this time they were in front of the Garrison home, and in an undertone he bade Turk walk on and wait for him at the corner below.

"Did he escape?" cried Dorothy from the steps.

"He gave us the slip, confound him, Dorothy."

"I'm glad, really I am. What could we have done with him if he had been caught? But are you not coming in?"

"Oh, not to-night, thank you. Can't you have some one bring out my hat and coat?" He was beginning to feel faint and sick, and purposely kept the b.l.o.o.d.y arm from the light.

"You shall not have them unless you come in for them. Besides, we want you to tell us what happened. We are crazy with excitement.

Madame de Cartier fainted, and mamma is almost worried to death."

"Are you not coming up, Mr. Quentin?" called Mrs. Garrison, from the veranda.

"You must come in," said de Cartier, coming up at that moment with the count and Mr. Knowlton.

"Really, I must go to the hotel, I am a little faint after that wretched run. Let me go, please; don't insist on my coming in," he said.

"Mon dieu!" exclaimed the count. "It is blood, Monsieur! You are hurt!"

"Oh, not in the least--merely a--"

"Phil!" cried Dorothy, standing in front of him, her wide eyes looking intently into his. "Are you hurt? Tell me!"

"Just a little cut in the arm or shoulder, I think. Doesn't amount to anything, I a.s.sure--"

"Come in the house at once, Philip Quentin!" she exclaimed. "Mr.

Knowlton, will you ask Franz to telephone for Dr. Berier?" Then she saw the blood-stained hand and shuddered, turning her face away.

"Oh, Phil!" she whispered.

"That pays for this cut and more, if necessary," he said, in a low voice, as he walked at her side up the steps.

"Lean on me, Phil," she said. "You must be faint." He laughed merrily, and his eyes sparkled with something not akin to pain.

Dr. Berier came and closed the gash in his shoulder. An hour later he came downstairs, to find Mrs. Garrison and Dorothy alone.

"You were very brave, Mr. Quentin, but very foolhardy," said Mrs.

Garrison. "I hope from my heart the wound will give you little trouble."

His good right hand closed over hers for an instant and then clasped Dorothy's warmly, lingeringly.

"You must let us hear from you to-morrow," said she, softly.

"Expect me to fetch the message in person," said he, and he was off down the steps. He did not look back, or he might have seen her standing on the veranda, her eyes following him till he was joined by another man at the corner below.

XII. HE CLAIMED A DAY

The strange experience of the evening brought Quentin sharply to a sense of realization. It proved to him that he was feared, else why the unusual method of campaign? To what extent the conspirators would carry their seemingly unnecessary warfare he was now, for the first time, able to form some sort of opinion. The remarkable boldness of the spy at the Garrison home left room for considerable speculation as to his motive. What was his design and what would have been the ending to his sinister vigil? Before Quentin slept that night he came to the drowsy conclusion that luck had really been with him, despite his wound and Courant's escape, and that the sudden exposure of the spy destroyed the foundation for an important move in the powderless conflict.

In the morning his shoulder was so sore that the surgeon informed him he could not use the arm for several days. Turk philosophically bore the brunt of his master's ire. Like a little Napoleon he endured the savage a.s.saults from Quentin's vocal batteries, taking them as lamentations instead of imprecations. The morning newspapers mentioned the attempt to rob Mrs. Garrison's house and soundly deplored the unstrategic and ill-advised attempt of "an American named Canton" to capture the desperado. "The police department is severe in its criticism of the childish act which allowed the wretch to escape detection without leaving the faintest clew behind.

Officers were close at hand, and the slightest warning would have had them at the Garrison home. The capture of this man would have meant much to the department, as he is undoubtedly one of the diamond robbers who are working havoc in Brussels at this time. He was, it is stated positively by the police, not alone in his operations last night. His duty, it is believed, was to obtain the lay of the land and to give the signal at the proper moment for a careful and systematic raid of the wealthy woman's house. The police now fear that the robbers, whose daring exploits have shocked and alarmed all Brussels, are on their guard and a well-defined plan to effect their capture is ruined. A prominent attache of the department is of the opinion that an attempt was to have been made by the band to relieve all of Mrs. Garrison's guests of their jewels in a sensational game of 'stand and deliver.'"

"The miserable a.s.ses!" exploded Phil, when 'he read the foregoing.

"That is the worst rot I ever read. This police department couldn't catch a thief if he were tied to a tree. Turk, if they were so near at hand why the devil didn't they get into the chase with me and run that fellow down?"

"Th' chances are they was in th' chase, Mr. Quentin, but they didn't get th' proper direction. They thought he was bein' chased th' other way, an' I wouldn't be surprised if some of 'em run five or six miles before they stopped t' reflect."