"The Garden of Eden was once fitted out with an excellent system of government."

"Exactly. Charters, left to themselves, do not regulate human nature.

The good citizens of St. Etienne went their own busy business way and left the less occupied bad citizens to adapt the charter to the needs of life; and that was an easy job, so easy that it has apparently been possible for one man to manage it. The charter put great power into the hands of the mayor. There have been three mayors elected under it, and they have all been 'friends' of Billy Barry."

"I wonder if the next will be," queried Ellery thoughtfully.

"And the majority of every working committee appointed by the city council is made of 'friends' of Piggy, who shows a fine disregard of party lines in his affiliations. William is one more product of this horseless wireless age--a crownless king."

"What makes you think that he isn't the power he seems?"

"A lot of things. The business interests behind him do not seem to be wholly his. That is another field for investigation."

"You started yesterday to tell me about a big policeman."

"Yes, Olaf Ericson, with the eyes and mustache of a viking above a blue uniform. When I met him last he had just had the melancholy duty of cutting down a poor wretch that had hung himself, and of sending for the coroner. He told me that the pathetic part of it was that the dead man was a total stranger in the city; and then he winked and asked if I knew that though the city paid the coroner his salary, the state guaranteed an extra fee of 'saxty dollar' to that official for every stranger who met with sudden death within our limits? I didn't know, but I do now. I took pains to look up last year's records and, curiously enough, out of one hundred and seventy-six cases that required the services of a coroner, one hundred and fifty-one were those of strangers. That would add about nine thousand dollars to a quite moderate salary. Another queer thing is that Doctor Niger--the coroner, you know--is Billy Barry's brother-in-law."

"Great Scott!" said Ellery.

"Great Barry, say I. Now it may be my historic sense, or it may be mere curiosity, but I mean to hunt up the personal history of those hundred-odd strangers who died forlorn and lonely within our gates."

"Work quietly, d.i.c.k, and get your facts well in hand."

"I intend to. But when I have it all, don't you suppose your chief, Lewis, will be willing to publish the record?"

"I hope so."

"I dare say the day will come when Barry and I shall cease to be friends," said d.i.c.k cheerfully. "One must submit to the inevitable. But let's keep the papers dribbling out information to the public. By the time the coroner story is finished, I expect to have another ready."

"Tell me."

"Not yet. What used old Eddy to preach to us in rhetoric? 'Before you attempt composition, be sure that you have a rounded thought.' This isn't round, it's elliptical. Big Olaf is a friend useful. He's a shrewd fellow, who's been looking stupid for some time. The 'bunch' hasn't been treating him square. You can guess what that means. Anyway, he is sore as well as shrewd, and now I fancy he belongs to me."

Norris turned with a start and stared d.i.c.k in the face.

"How did you get possession of him?" he asked sharply.

"Well, what if I bought him?"

"Do you mean that you are making up to him what Barry's dirty hands have failed to give? You are bribing him to act as your spy?"

"I do not suppose there is any harm in my hiring a private detective."

"That depends on whether he is already a public official, and on how you pay him, and what you pay him for."

"Ellery, those fellows have sentries and pickets and fortifications and guns always in battle-array against us and our kind. The only thing to do is to gather hosts and ammunition on the other side."

"True. But there isn't any use in fighting dishonesty with dishonor.

d.i.c.k, don't lower your standard to the mere flinging of mud."

But d.i.c.k did not appear to listen. His eyes were caught by one of the pa.s.sing couples and he sprang to his feet.

"Let's follow the stream a little farther," he said, moving as he spoke.

"The gorge grows wilder and more enticing the farther you go."

He walked hurriedly down the path, and Ellery, whose mind seldom leaped, but progressed by orderly steps, followed in some bewilderment. An instant before d.i.c.k's face had worn the profound air of a man on whose shoulders rested mighty problems. Now every movement was boyish and exultant. He laughed to himself. The stream thundered and one does not ask a friend to shout out his minor moods, so Ellery forbore to question.

Suddenly the brook burst through overhanging cliffs of party-colored sandstone out of its thread-like gorge into the wide chasm of the Mississippi. A small steamer lay at anchor and tooted a discordant horn to signify to the world that she intended to be up and doing. A crowd of phlegmatic-faced revelers stood upon the bank and watched her with absorbed indifference, while a smaller number pushed aboard and prepared for true joy by laying in a store of cracker-jack and peanuts at a diminutive counter.

"Just in time!" d.i.c.k e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed and he shoved Ellery on to the swaying deck as the hawsers were swung loose.

They whirled out into mid-stream and exchanged the fine feminine delights of the brook for the bold masculine ones of the great river, whose craggy banks rose high, like fortifications, forest-crowned.

Tangles of woodbine, clematis and bitter-sweet sprawled down over striated rocks. The boat twisted its way through a current that boiled up from below in whirlpools. Here and there huge logs plunged downward like water-monsters, as they threaded between wooded islands, where meek-looking cottontails squatted and twiddled their noses at the pa.s.sing craft; on, on, until, far off, loomed the boldest highest cliff of all, its top crested by a quaint old slit-windowed round tower of a fort, once a border defense against Chippewa and Sioux, now backed by the sleek lawns of well-groomed officers.

Ellery looked around at his fellow pa.s.sengers, contentedly munching their peanuts and conversing in broad English flavored with Norse. They were a good-natured a.s.semblage, who choked and snorted and chuckled and whinnied in their laughter. Norris' eyes were caught by one girl, conspicuously because plainly dressed. As she turned her profile, he glanced at d.i.c.k. d.i.c.k too was staring at her, and even while Ellery eyed him, he raised his hat and bowed gravely, with a deferential air that became him.

"So," exclaimed Norris under his breath, "that was why we tore like madmen to catch this boat!"

"It would have been a pity to lose it," d.i.c.k responded innocently. "It is a delicious bit of scenery from here to the fort. I wanted you to see it."

"Pink and white scenery with yellow curls," jeered Ellery.

d.i.c.k made no reply and Ellery went on.

"She has a young man already. You can't go and take her away from him.

That wouldn't be playing fair."

"The man with her is an oaf. He has a loose mouth that wabbles when he opens it to pick his teeth."

"So you think that though you may not s.n.a.t.c.h her bodily, you may make her wish to be with you instead of with him, and that the wish will lie fallow in her heart. d.i.c.k, you are a student of human nature," Ellery said, half amused, half irritated.

"I dare say he is a gentleman at heart. Oafs always are."

"What you really do," Ellery continued, "is to make her uncomfortable and conscious of his clothes and his sprawl. She flushed when she saw you, and she has been sitting stiffly ever since."

"Oh, drop it, Norris."

Ellery shrugged his shoulders.

"I don't know what you want to do it for," he said. "You're a queer combination, d.i.c.k, of the whole-souled reformer and the abject goose."

"Nothing inconsistent about being a philanthropist and a philogynist. By Jove! She's pretty in her _malaise_, pink, and pecking like a little wren at her oaf. Ellery, it's a brute of a shame that such as she should be cast before him--she, a fine lacy creature who shows her breeding through it all."

"How much are you in earnest?"

"There you go again!" d.i.c.k turned on his friend with a kind of exasperation. "You belong to that period of social development when they ask a man's intentions if he looks twice at the girl he dances with. I don't have to be in earnest, thank Heaven! But when I get a chance to look at anything so lovely as that girl, I mean to do it, just as I look at a flower or a picture. I don't mean to lose all the delicious froth of life. Do you happen to know her first name?"

"Lena," answered Ellery shortly.

"Lena! It's a delicate fragile little name--not meant for a girl who has to plug her way through life. Her real name is Andromeda, poor child--chained to the rock and momently expecting the jaws of poverty."