"But, why not stay, now that you are here?" he asked.

"Huh!" Burke retorted. "Suppose some of them saw me come in? There wouldn't be anything doing until after they see me go out again."

The hall door opened and the butler reentered the room. Behind him came Ca.s.sidy and two other detectives in plain clothes. At a word from his master, the disturbed Thomas withdrew with the intention of obeying the Inspector's directions that he should retire to bed and stay there, carefully avoiding whatever possibilities of peril there might be in the situation so foreign to his ideals of propriety.

"Now," Burke went on briskly, as the door closed behind the servant, "where could these men stay out of sight until they're needed?"

There followed a little discussion which ended in the selection of a store-room at the end of the pa.s.sage on the ground floor, on which one of the library doors opened.

"You see," Burke explained to Gilder, when this matter had been settled to his satisfaction, and while Ca.s.sidy and the other detectives were out of the library on a tour of inspection, "you must have things right, when it comes to catching crooks on a frame-up like this. I had these men come to Number Twenty-six on the other street, then round the block on the roofs."

Gilder nodded appreciation which was not actually sincere. It seemed to him that such elaborate manoeuvering was, in truth, rather absurd.

"And now, Mr. Gilder," the Inspector said energetically, "I'm going to give you the same tip I gave your man. Go to bed, and stay there."

"But the boy," Gilder protested. "What about him? He's the one thing of importance to me."

"If he says anything more about going to Chicago--just you let him go, that's all! It's the best place for him for the next few days. I'll get in touch with you in the morning and let you know then how things are coming out."

Gilder sighed resignedly. His heavy face was lined with anxiety. There was a hesitation in his manner of speech that was wholly unlike its usual quick decisiveness.

"I don't like this sort of thing," he said, doubtfully. "I let you go ahead because I can't suggest any alternative, but I don't like it, not at all. It seems to me that other methods might be employed with excellent results without the element of treachery which seems to involve me as well as you in our efforts to overcome this woman."

Burke, however, had no qualms as to such plotting.

"You must have crooked ways to catch crooks, believe me," he said cheerfully. "It's the easiest and quickest way out of the trouble for us, and the easiest and quickest way into trouble for them."

The return of the detectives caused him to break off, and he gave his attention to the final arrangements of his men.

"You're in charge here," he said to Ca.s.sidy, "and I hold you responsible. Now, listen to this, and get it." His coa.r.s.e voice came with a grating note of command. "I'm coming back to get this bunch myself, and I'll call you when you're wanted. You'll wait in the store-room out there and don't make a move till you hear from me, unless by any chance things go wrong and you get a call from Griggs. You know who he is. He's got a whistle, and he'll use it if necessary.... Got that straight?" And, when Ca.s.sidy had declared an entire understanding of the directions given, he concluded concisely. "On your way, then!"

As the men left the room, he turned again to Gilder.

"Just one thing more," he said. "I'll have to have your help a little longer. After I've gone, I want you to stay up for a half-hour anyhow, with the lights burning. Do you see? I want to be sure to give the Turner woman time to get here while that gang is at work. Your keeping on the lights will hold them back, for they won't come in till the house is dark, so, in half an hour you can get off the job, switch off the lights and go to bed and stay there--just as I told you before." Then Inspector Burke, having in mind the great distress of the man over the unfortunate entanglement of his son, was at pains to offer a rea.s.suring word.

"Don't worry about the boy," he said, with grave kindliness. "We'll get him out of this sc.r.a.pe all right." And with the a.s.sertion he bustled out, leaving the unhappy father to miserable forebodings.

CHAPTER XVII. OUTSIDE THE LAW.

Gilder scrupulously followed the directions of the Police Inspector.

Uneasily, he had remained in the library until the allotted time was elapsed. He fidgeted from place to place, his mind heavy with distress under the shadow that threatened to blight the life of his cherished son. Finally, with a sense of relief he put out the lights and went to his chamber. But he did not follow the further directions given him, for he was not minded to go to bed. Instead, he drew the curtains closely to make sure that no gleam of light could pa.s.s them, and then sat with a cigar between his lips, which he did not smoke, though from time to time he was at pains to light it. His thoughts were most with his son, and ever as he thought of d.i.c.k, his fury waxed against the woman who had enmeshed the boy in her plotting for vengeance on himself. And into his thoughts now crept a doubt, one that alarmed his sense of justice. It occurred to him that this woman could not have thus nourished a plan for retribution through the years unless, indeed, she had been insane, even as he had claimed--or innocent! The idea was appalling. He could not bear to admit the possibility of having been the involuntary inflicter of such wrong as to send the girl to prison for an offense she had not committed. He rejected the suggestion, but it persisted. He knew the clean, wholesome nature of his son. It seemed to him incredible that the boy could have thus given his heart to one altogether undeserving.

A horrible suspicion that he had misjudged Mary Turner crept into his brain, and would not out. He fought it with all the strength of him, and that was much, but ever it abode there. He turned for comfort to the things Burke had said. The woman was a crook, and there was an end of it. Her ruse of spoliation within the law was evidence of her shrewdness, nothing more.

Mary Turner herself, too, was in a condition utterly wretched, and for the same cause--d.i.c.k Gilder. That source of the father's suffering was hers as well. She had won her ambition of years, revenge on the man who had sent her to prison. And now the joy of it was a torture, for the puppet of her plans, the son, had suddenly become the chief thing in her life. She had taken it for granted that he would leave her after he came to know that her marriage to him was only a device to bring shame on his father. Instead, he loved her. That fact seemed the secret of her distress. He loved her. More, he dared believe, and to a.s.sert boldly, that she loved him. Had he acted otherwise, the matter would have been simple enough.... But he loved her, loved her still, though he knew the shame that had clouded her life, knew the motive that had led her to accept him as a husband. More--by a sublime audacity, he declared that she loved him.

There came a thrill in her heart each time she thought of that--that she loved him. The idea was monstrous, of course, and yet---- Here, as always, she broke off, a hot flush blazing in her cheeks....

Nevertheless, such curious fancies pursued her through the hours. She strove her mightiest to rid herself of them, but in vain. Ever they persisted. She sought to oust them by thinking of any one else, of Aggie, of Joe. There at last was satisfaction. Her interference between the man who had saved her life and the temptation of the English crook had prevented a dangerous venture, which might have meant ruin to the one whom she esteemed for his devotion to her, if for no other reason.

At least, she had kept him from the outrageous folly of an ordinary burglary.

Mary Turner was just ready for bed after her evening at the theater, when she was rudely startled out of this belief. A note came by a messenger who waited for no answer, as he told the yawning maid. As Mary read the roughly scrawled message, she was caught in the grip of terror.

Some instinct warned her that this danger was even worse than it seemed.

The man who had saved her from death had yielded to temptation. Even now, he was engaged in committing that crime which she had forbidden him. As he had saved her, so she must save him. She hurried into the gown she had just put off. Then she went to the telephone-book and searched for the number of Gilder's house.

It was just a few moments before Mary Turner received the note from the hands of the sleepy maid that one of the leaves of the octagonal window in the library of Richard Gilder's town house swung open, under the persuasive influence of a thin rod of steel, cunningly used, and Joe Garson stepped confidently into the dark room.

A faint radiance of moonlight from without showed him for a second as he pa.s.sed between the heavy draperies. Then these fell into place, and he was invisible, and soundless as well. For a s.p.a.ce, he rested motionless, listening intently. Rea.s.sured, he drew out an electric torch and set it glowing. A little disc of light touched here and there about the room, traveling very swiftly, and in methodical circles. Satisfied by the survey, Garson crossed to the hall door. He moved with alert a.s.surance, lithely balanced on the b.a.l.l.s of his feet, noiselessly. At the hall door he listened for any sound of life without, and found none. The door into the pa.s.sage that led to the store-room where the detectives waited next engaged his business-like attention. And here, again, there was naught to provoke his suspicion.

These preliminaries taken as measures of precaution, Garson went boldly to the small table that stood behind the couch, turned the b.u.t.ton, and the soft glow of an electric lamp illumined the apartment. The extinguished torch was thrust back into his pocket. Afterward he carried one of the heavy chairs to the door of the pa.s.sage and propped it against the panel in such wise that its fall must give warning as to the opening of the door. His every action was performed with the maximum of speed, with no least trace of flurry or of nervous haste. It was evident that he followed a definite program, the fruit of precise thought guided by experience.

It seemed to him that now everything was in readiness for the coming of his a.s.sociates in the commission of the crime. There remained only to give them the signal in the room around the corner where they waited at a telephone. He seated himself in Gilder's chair at the desk, and drew the telephone to him.

"Give me 999 Bryant," he said. His tone was hardly louder than a whisper, but spoken with great distinctness.

There was a little wait. Then an answer in a voice he knew came over the wire.

But Garson said nothing more. Instead, he picked up a penholder from the tray on the desk, and began tapping lightly on the rim of the transmitter. It was a code message in Morse. In the room around the corner, the tapping sounded clearly, ticking out the message that the way was free for the thieves' coming.

When Garson had made an end of the telegraphing, there came a brief answer in like Morse, to which he returned a short direction.

For a final safeguard, Garson searched for and found the telephone bell-box on the surbase below the octagonal window. It was the work of only a few seconds to unscrew the bells, which he placed on the desk.

So simply he made provision against any alarm from this source. He then took his pistol from his hip-pocket, examined it to make sure that the silencer was properly adjusted, and then thrust it into the right side-pocket of his coat, ready for instant use in desperate emergency.

Once again, now, he produced the electric torch, and lighted it as he extinguished the lamp on the table.

Forthwith, Garson went to the door into the hall, opened it, and, leaving it ajar, made his way in silence to the outer doorway.

Presently, the doors there were freed of their bolts under his skilled fingers, and one of them swung wide. He had put out the torch now, lest its gleam might catch the gaze of some casual pa.s.ser-by. So nicely had the affair been timed that hardly was the door open before the three men slipped in, and stood mute and motionless in the hall, while Garson refastened the doors. Then, a pencil of light traced the length of the hallway and Garson walked quickly back to the library. Behind him with steps as noiseless as his own came the three men to whom he had just given the message.

When all were gathered in the library, Garson shut the hall door, touched the b.u.t.ton in the wall beside it, and the chandelier threw its radiant light on the group.

Griggs was in evening clothes, seeming a very elegant young gentleman indeed, but his two companions were of grosser type, as far as appearances went: one, Dacey, thin and wiry, with a ferret face; the other, Chicago Red, a brawny ruffian, whose stolid features nevertheless exhibited something of half-sullen good nature.

"Everything all right so far," Garson said rapidly. He turned to Griggs and pointed toward the heavy hangings that shrouded the octagonal window. "Are those the things we want?" he demanded.

"Yes," was the answer of English Eddie.

"Well, then, we've got to get busy," Garson went on. His alert, strong face was set in lines of eagerness that had in it something of fierceness now.

But, before he could add a direction, he was halted by a soft buzzing from the telephone, which, though bell-less, still gave this faint warning of a call. For an instant, he hesitated while the others regarded him doubtfully. The situation offered perplexities. To give no attention to the summons might be perilous, and failure to respond might provoke investigation in some urgent matter; to answer it might easily provide a larger danger.

"We've got to take a chance." Garson spoke his decision curtly. He went to the desk and put the receiver to his ear.

There came again the faint tapping of some one at the other end of the line, signaling a message in the Morse code. An expression of blank amazement, which grew in a flash to deep concern, showed on Garson's face as he listened tensely.

"Why, this is Mary calling," he muttered.