"d.a.m.n it, I don't want him to buy it in for himself and freeze me out!

I can't stop him, either; Puma's got all my money except what's in this parcel. And you betcha life I hang onto this, creditors or no creditors, and Pawling to the contrary! He knows d.a.m.n well it belongs to me. Try him again at the Rajah----"

"They're paging him. I left the number. But I tell you the proper thing for you to do is to go to a lawyer, and then to the police,"

repeated Jim. "There's nothing else to do. This fellow, Puma, may have run for the Mexican border, or he may still be in the United States.

Without a pa.s.sport he couldn't very easily get on any trans-Atlantic boat or any South American boat either. The proper procedure is to notify the police----"

"Nix on the police!" shouted Skidder. "That'll start the land-slide, and the whole shooting-match will go. I want _this_ property. If the papers show it's subject to the firm's liabilities, then that dirty skunk altered the thing. It's forgery.

"I never was fool enough to lump this parcel in with our a.s.sets. Not me. It's forgery; that's what it is, and this parcel belongs to me, privately----"

"See an attorney," repeated Jim patiently. "You can't keep a thing like this out of the papers, Mr. Skidder. Why, here's a man, Angelo Puma, who pounces on every convertible a.s.set of his firm, stuffs a valise full of real money, and beats it for parts unknown.

"That's a matter for the police. You can't hope to hide it for more than a day or two longer. Your firm is bankrupt through the rascality of a partner. He's gone with all the money he could sc.r.a.pe together.

He converted everything into cash; he lied, swindled, stole, and skipped. And what he didn't take must remain to satisfy the firm's creditors. You can't conceal conditions, slyly pocket what Puma has left and then call in an attorney. That's criminal. You have your contracts to fulfil; you have a studio full of people whose salaries are nearly due; you have running expenses; you have notes to meet; you have obligations to face when a dozen or so contractors for your new theatre come to you on Sat.u.r.day----"

"You mean that's all up to me?" shrieked Skidder, squinting horribly at a framed photograph of Puma. And suddenly he ran at it and hurled it to the floor and began to kick it about with strange, provincial maledictions:

"Dern yeh, yeh poor blimgasted thing! I'll skin yeh, yeh dumb-faced, ring-boned, two-edged son-of-a-skunk!----"

The telephone's clamour silenced him. Jim answered:

"Who? Oh, long-distance. All right." And he waited. Then, again: "Who wants him?... Yes, he's here in the office, now.... Yes, he'll come to the 'phone."

And to Skidder: "Shadow Hill wants to speak to you."

"I won't go. By G.o.d, if this thing is out!--Who the h.e.l.l is it wants to speak to me? Wait! Maybe it's Alonzo D. Pawling!----"

"Shall I inquire?" And he asked for further information over the wire.

Then, presently, and turning again to Skidder:

"You'd better come to the wire. It seems to be the Chief of Police who wants you."

Skidder's unhealthy skin became ghastly. He came over and took the instrument:

"What d'ye want, Chief? Sure it's me, Elmer.... Hey? Who? Alonzo D.

Pawling? My G.o.d, is he dead? Took _pizen_! W-what for! He's a rich man, ain't he?... Speculated?... You say he took the bank's funds?

Trust funds? What!" he screeched--"put 'em into _my_ company! He's a liar! ... I don't care what letters he left!... Well, all right then. Sure, I'll get a lawyer----"

"Tell him to hold that wire!" cut in Jim; and took the receiver from Skidder's shaking fingers.

"Is the Shadow Hill Trust Company insolvent?" he asked. "You say that the bank closed its doors this morning? Have you any idea of its condition? Looted? Is it entirely cleaned out? Is there no chance for depositors? I wish to inquire about the trust funds, bonds and other investments belonging to a friend of mine, Miss Dumont.... Yes, I'll wait."

He turned a troubled and sombre gaze toward Skidder, who sat there pasty-faced, with sagging jaw, staring back at him. And presently:

"Yes.... Yes, this is Mr. Shotwell, a friend of Miss Dumont....

Yes.... Yes.... Yes.... I see.... Yes, I shall try to communicate with her immediately.... Yes, I suppose the news will be published in the evening papers.... Certainly.... Yes, I have no doubt that she will go at once to Shadow Hill.... Thank you.... Yes, it does seem rather hopeless.... I'll try to find her and break it to her.... Thank you.

Good-bye."

He hung up the receiver, took his hat and coat, his eyes fixed absently on Skidder.

"You'd better beat it to your attorney," he remarked, and went out.

He could not find Palla. She was not at the Red Cross, not at the canteen, not at the new Hostess House.

He telephoned Ilse for information, but she was not at home.

Twice he called at Palla's house, leaving a message the last time that she should telephone him at the club on her arrival.

He went to the club and waited there, trying to read. At a quarter to six o'clock no message from her had come.

Again he telephoned Ilse; she had not returned. He even telephoned to Marya, loath to disturb her; but she, also, was not at home.

The chances that he could break the news to Palla before she read it in the evening paper were becoming negligible. He had done his best to forestall them. But at six the evening papers arrived at the club. And in every one of them was an account of the defalcation and suicide of the Honorable Alonzo D. Pawling, president of the Shadow Hill Trust Company. But nothing yet concerning the defalcation and disappearance of Angelo Puma.

Jim had no inclination to eat, but he tried to at seven-thirty, still waiting and hoping for a message from Palla.

He tried her house again about half past eight. This time the maid answered that Miss Dumont had telephoned from down town that she would dine out and go afterward to the Combat Club. And that if Mr. Shotwell desired to see her he should call at her house after ten o'clock.

So Jim hastened to the cloak-room, got his hat and coat, found the starter, secured a taxi, bought an evening paper and stuffed it into his pocket, and started out to find Palla at the Combat Club. For it seemed evident to him that she had not yet read the evening paper; and he hoped he might yet encounter her in time to prepare her for news which, according to the newspapers, appeared even blacker than he had supposed it might be.

CHAPTER XXV

As he left the taxi in front of the dirty brick archway and flight of steps leading to the hall, where he expected to find Palla, he noticed a small crowd of wrangling foreigners gathered there--men and women--and a policeman posted near, calm and indifferent, juggling his club at the end of its leather thong.

Jim paused to inquire if there had been any trouble there that evening.

"Well," said the policeman, "there's two talking-clubs that chew the rag in that joint. It's the Reds' night, but wan o' the ladies of the other club showed up--Miss Dumont--and the Reds yonder was all for chasing her out. So we run in a couple of 'em--that feller Sondheim and another called Bromberg. They're wanted, anyhow, in Philadelphia."

"Is there a meeting inside?"

"Sure. The young lady went in to settle it peaceful like; and she's inside now jawin' at them Reds to beat a pink tea."

"Do you apprehend any violence?" asked Jim uneasily.

The policeman juggled his club and eyed him. "I--guess--not," he drawled. And, to the jabbering, wrangling crowd on pavement and steps: "--Hey, you! Go in or stay out, one or the other, now! Step lively; you're blockin' the sidewalk."

A number of people mounted the steps and went in with Jim. As the doors to the hall opened, a flare of smoky light struck him, and he pushed his way into the hall, where a restless, murmuring audience, some seated, others standing, was watching a number of men and women on the rostrum.

There seemed to be more wrangling going on there--knots of people disputing and apparently quite oblivious of the audience.

And almost immediately he caught sight of Palla on the platform. But even before he could take a step forward in the crowded aisle, he saw her force her way out of an excited group of people and come to the edge of the platform, lifting a slim hand for silence.