Anita had only time to nod before Mr. Mallowe stood before them. He paused for a moment, glanced inquiringly at Blaine and then advanced to Anita with outstretched hand. If he had ever seen the detective before, he gave no sign.

"My dear child!" he murmured, unctuously. "I trust you are feeling a little stronger this afternoon--a little brighter and more hopeful?"

"Very much more hopeful, thank you, Mr. Mallowe," returned the young girl, steadily. "I have enlisted in my cause the greatest of all investigators. Allow me to present Mr. Henry Blaine."

"Mr. Blaine," Mallowe repeated, bowing with supercilious urbanity. "Do I understand that this is the private detective of whom I have heard so much?"

Blaine returned his salutation coolly, but did not speak, and Anita replied for him.

"Yes, Mr. Mallowe, Mr. Blaine is going to find Ramon for me!"

Mallowe shook his head slowly, with a mournful smile.

"Ah! my dear!" he sighed. "I do not want to dampen your hopes, heaven knows, but I very much fear that that will be an impossible task, even for one of Mr. Blaine's unquestioned renown."

"Still, it is always possible to try," the detective returned, looking levelly into Mallowe's eyes. "Personally, I am very sanguine of success."

"Everything is being done that can be of any use now," the other man observed hurriedly. "Do I understand, Mr. Blaine, that Miss Lawton has definitely retained you on this case?"

Blaine nodded, and Mallowe turned to Anita.

"Really, my dear, you should have consulted me, or some other of your father's old friends, before taking such a step!" he expostulated. "It will only bring added notoriety and trouble to you. I do not mean to underestimate Mr. Blaine's marvelous ability, which is recognized everywhere, but even he can scarcely succeed in locating Mr. Hamilton where we, with all the resources at our command, have failed. Mark my words, my dear Anita; if Ramon Hamilton returns, it will be voluntarily, of his own free will. Until--unless he so decides, you will never see him. It is too bad to have summoned Mr. Blaine here on a useless errand, but I am sure he quite understands the situation now."

"I do," responded the detective quietly. "I have accepted the case."

"But surely you will withdraw?" The older man's voice rose cholerically.

"Miss Lawton is a mere girl, a minor, in fact--"

"I am over eighteen, Mr. Mallowe," interposed Anita quietly.

"Until your proper guardian is appointed by the courts," Mallowe cried, "you are nominally under my care, mine and others of your father's closest a.s.sociates. This is a delicate matter to discuss now, Mr. Blaine," he added, in calmer tones, turning to the detective, "but since this seems to be a business interview, we must touch upon the question of finances. I know that the fee you naturally require must be a large one, and I am in duty bound to tell you that Miss Lawton has absolutely no funds at her disposal to reimburse you for your time and trouble. Whatever fortune she may be possessed of, she cannot touch now."

"Miss Lawton has already fully reimbursed me--in advance," returned Henry Blaine calmly. "That question need cause you no further concern, Mr. Mallowe, nor need you have any doubt as to my position in this matter. I'm on this case, and I'm on it to stay! I'm going to find Ramon Hamilton!"

CHAPTER XVI

THE LIBRARY CHAIR

"Paddington's on the run!" Ross, the operative, announced to Henry Blaine the next morning, jubilantly. "He left his rooms about an hour after I got back on the job, and went to Carlis' office.

He only stayed a short time, and came out looking as black as a thunder-cloud--I guess the interview, whatever it was, didn't go his way. He went straight from there to Rockamore, the promoter. I pretended an errand with Rockamore, too, and so got into the outer office. The heavy gla.s.s door was closed between, and I couldn't hear anything but a m.u.f.fled growling from within, but they were both angry enough, all right. Once the stenographer went in and came out again almost immediately. When the door opened to admit her, I heard Paddington fairly shout:

"'It's your own skin you're saving, you fool, as well as mine! If I'm caught, you all go! Carlis thinks he can bluff it, and Mallowe's a superannuated, pig-headed old goat. He'll try to stand on his reputation, and cave in like a p.r.i.c.ked balloon when the crash comes. I know his kind; I've hounded too many of 'em to the finish. But you're a man of sense, Rockamore, and you know you've got to help me out of this for your own sake. I tell you, some one's on to the whole game, and they're just sitting back and waiting for the right moment to nab us. They not only learn every move we make--they antic.i.p.ate them! It's every man for himself, now, and I warn you that if I'm cornered in this--'

"'Hold your tongue!' Rockamore ordered. 'Can't you see--'

"Then the door closed, and I couldn't hear any more. The voices calmed down to a rumble, and in about twenty minutes I could hear them approaching the door. I decided I couldn't wait any longer, and got outside just in time to give Paddington a chance to pa.s.s me. He seemed in good humor, and I guess he got what he was after--money, probably, for he went to his bank and put through a check. Then he returned to his rooms, and didn't show up again until late afternoon, when he went away up Belleair Avenue, to the rectory of the Church of St. James. He didn't go in--just talked with the s.e.xton in the vestibule, and when he came down the steps he looked dazed, as if he'd received a hard jolt of some sort. He couldn't have been trying to blackmail the minister, too, could he?"

"Hardly, Ross. Go on," Blaine responded. "What did he do next?"

"Nothing. Just went back to his rooms and stayed there. It seemed as if he was afraid to leave--not so much afraid to be found, but as if he might miss something, if he left. He even had his dinner sent in from a restaurant near there. Knowing him, I might have known what it was he was waiting for--he's always chasing after some girl or other."

"There was a woman in it, then?" asked the detective, quietly.

"You can bet there was--very much in it, sir!" the operative chuckled.

"She came along while I watched--a tall, slim girl, plainly dressed in dark clothes, but with an air to her that would make you look at her twice, anywhere. She hesitated and looked uncertainly about her, as if she were unfamiliar with the place and a little scary of her errand, but at last she made up her mind, and plunged in the vestibule, as if she was afraid she would lose her courage if she stopped to think.

"For a few minutes her shadow showed on the window-shades, beside Paddington's. They stood close together, and from their gestures, he seemed to be arguing or pleading, while she was drawing back and refusing, or at least, holding out against him. At last they fell into a regular third-act clinch--it was as good as a movie! After a moment she drew herself out of his arms and they moved away from the window.

In a minute or two they came out of the house together, and I tailed them. They walked slowly, with their heads very close, and I didn't dare get near enough to try to hear what they were discussing so earnestly. But where do you suppose he took her? To the Anita Lawton Club for Working Girls! He left her at the entrance and went back to his own rooms, and he seemed to be in a queer mood all the way--happy and up in the air one minute, and down in the dumps the next.

"He didn't stir out again last night, but early this morning he went down to the office of the Holland-American line, and purchased two tickets, first-cla.s.s to Rotterdam, on the _Brunnhilde_, sailing next Sat.u.r.day, so I think we have the straight dope on him now. He means to skip with the girl."

"Sat.u.r.day--two days off!" mused Blaine. "I think it's safe to give him his head until then, but keep a close watch on him, Ross. The purchase of those tickets may have been just a subterfuge on his part to throw any possible shadow off the trail. Did you ascertain what name he took them under?"

"J. Padelford and wife."

"Clever of him, that!" Blaine commented. "If he really intends to fool this girl with a fake marriage and sail with her for the other side, he can explain the change of names on the steamer to her by telling her it was a mistake on the printed sailing-list. Once at sea, without a chance of escape from him, he can tell her the truth, or as much of it as he cares to, and she'll have to stick; that type of woman always does. She might even come in time to take up his line, and become a cleverer crook than he is, but we're not going to let that happen.

We'll stop him, right enough, before he goes too far with her. What's he doing now?"

"Walking in the park with her. She met him at the gates, and Vanner took the job there of tailing them, while I came on down to report to you."

"Good work, Ross. But go back and take up the trail now yourself, if you're fit. And here, you'd better take this warrant with you; I swore it out against him several days ago, in case he attempted to bolt. If he tries to get the girl into a compromising situation, arrest him.

Let me know if anything of importance occurs meanwhile."

As Ross went out, the secretary, Marsh, appeared.

"There's an elderly gentleman outside waiting to see you, sir," he announced. "He does not wish to give his name, but says that he is a physician, and is here in answer to a letter which he received from you."

"Good! They pulled it off, then! We were only just in time with those letters we sent out yesterday, Marsh. Show him in at once."

In a few moments a tall, spare figure appeared in the doorway, and paused an instant before entering. He had a keen, smooth-shaven, ascetic face, topped with a ma.s.s of snow-white hair.

"Come in, Doctor," invited the detective. "I am Henry Blaine. It was good of you to come in response to my letter. I take it that you have something interesting to tell me."

The doctor entered and seated himself in the chair indicated by Blaine. He carried with him a worn, old-fashioned black leather instrument case.

"I do not know whether what I have to tell you will prove to have any connection with the matter you referred to in your letter or not, Mr.

Blaine. Indeed, I hesitated about divulging my experience of last night to you. The ethics of my profession--"

"My profession has ethics, too, Doctor, although you may not have conceived it," the detective reminded him, quietly. "Even more than doctor or priest, a professional investigator must preserve inviolate the secrets which are imparted to him, whether they take the form of a light under a bushel or a skeleton in a closet. In the cause of justice, only, may he open his lips. I hold safely locked away in my mind the keys to mysteries which, were they laid bare, would disrupt society, drag great statesmen from their pedestals, provoke international complications, even bring on wars. If you know anything pertaining to the matter of which I wrote you, justice and the ethics of your profession require you to speak."

"I agree with you, sir. As I said, I am not certain that my adventure--for it was quite an adventure for a retired man like myself, I a.s.sure you--has anything to do with the case you are investigating, but we can soon establish that. Do you recognize the subject of this photograph?"

The doctor drew from his pocket a small square bit of cardboard, and Blaine took it eagerly from him. One glance at it was sufficient, and it was with difficulty that the detective restrained the exclamation of triumph which rose to his lips. Upon the card was mounted a tiny, thumbnail photograph of a face--the face of Ramon Hamilton! It was more like a death-mask than a living countenance, with its rigid features and closed eyes, but the likeness was indisputable.