He chuckled as he thought how admirably his scheme had worked out. He had hinted at Kenneth being heavily short in this street, which at once explained a motive for Kenneth diverting the stones to his own use. Yes, he had triumphed over them all—except one. Helen Traynor, so far, had foiled him in everything, and the more she resisted and insulted him, the more determined he was to drag her at his feet. Handsome, poor devil, fondly imagined he would inherit the wife as well as the fortune. How could he guess that he, Keralio, would send a bogus telegram just in time to dash the cup from his lips.

Impatiently he strode up and down the rooms. Why was Handsome late? A frown darkened his face. He had better not trifle with him. He must obey without question or take the consequences. He was in no mood to be defied.

Suddenly, he started and listened. His alert ear had caught the sound of approaching footsteps on the stairs outside. A moment later came three deliberate knocks on the door, a signal which indicated a friendly visitor. Quickly, Keralio went forward and withdrew the bolt.

Francois entered, suit case in hand. Hardly before he could take breath after the long climb, Keralio exclaimed:

"Well, how are they going?"

The Frenchman grinned.

"A merveille! Like hot cakes. I've passed all of zem. Good work, is it not?"

"And the real stuff?" demanded Keralio.

"Is in here."

The valet pointed to the leather case.

Eagerly Keralio seized the portmanteau, and, opening it, emptied the contents. A perfect shower of greenbacks—genuine ones this time—fell upon the floor. With shaking hands, like a miser who trembles as he handles his hoarded gold, Keralio picked up the money by armfuls and, taking it to a table, proceeded to count it.

"Is it all here?" he demanded suspiciously.

The valet scowled.

"Do you think I'm holding any back on you? Ma foi, non!"

Keralio, still counting, fixed his assistant with steely, piercing eyes.

"No, Francois, I think you know me too well for that. You know I never forget a service; you also know I never forgive anyone who crosses my will."

The valet shrugged his shoulders. In an injured tone he asked:

"What's all ze talk about? I work well for you. I do your dirty work, n'est ce pas? I never complain—I am faithful. What more would you have?"

"Why should you complain? You get your share," rejoined his chief sternly.

The valet was silent and Keralio went on:

"A few days more and we'll be rid of all the new stuff. Then we'll take down the presses and carry away the parts, piece by piece. When we're ready to leave this hole, there won't be a shred of evidence left. Have you heard any news from our man in Washington? What are the secret service men doing?"

"Ze alarm is given. Zey have spotted several of ze bills. Half a dozen of ze cleverest sleuths in ze country have been put on our trail. Zey will not succeed. Ze scent is cold. We've got zem completely doped."

Keralio looked anxious.

"Is there any danger of them having shadowed you and followed you here?"

"No—mon cher, pas le mains du monde. It took me three hours to come here from ze Pennsylvania station—such a crazy in and out route I gave ze chauffeur. If they succeed in following such a labyrinth as that, they deserve to get us."

Keralio smiled and pointed to a bottle of brandy on the table. Approvingly, he said:

"Good boy! There, take a drink and a cigar——"

After the valet had refreshed himself, he again confronted his chief.

"What else a votre service?"

Keralio pointed carelessly to a seat. In a commanding tone, he said:

"Yes—I have more work for you. Sit down. I will tell you."

The valet took a chair and waited. Keralio looked at him meditatively for a moment. Then suddenly he asked:

"When did you leave the house?"

"This afternoon at three o'clock."

"When did Mrs. Traynor return from Philadelphia?"

"Yesterday—furious at the hoax played upon her? Miss Dorothy is perfectly well——"

Keralio smiled.

"Of course. I sent that telegram."

The valet grinned. Admiringly, he exclaimed:

"You are admirable! Quel homme, mon dieu, quel homme!"

Paying no heed to the compliment, Keralio went on:

"What did Handsome say?"

"He is puzzled himself and can't understand. Everyone's up in the air. They think it is a discharged maid who did it for spite."

"The next time Mrs. Traynor receives a sudden message about her baby it will not be a hoax."

The valet looked up in surprise.

"What do you mean?"

Keralio did not answer the question immediately, but sat nervously twisting his fingers, a moody sullen look in his pale saturnine face. At last, breaking the heavy silence, he said:

"That woman insulted me. You saw it. You were there——"

The valet nodded.

"You mean she put you out—ah, oui, she has a diable of a temper when angry."

Keralio nodded.

"Yes—that I can never forgive. She shall ask my pardon on her knees. I will break her spirit, humiliate her pride. I have been taxing my brain how to do it. At last I have hit on a plan—one that cannot fail and you shall help me."

"In what way s'il vous plait?"

Bending forward, his black eyes flashing, Keralio said earnestly:

"That woman is devoted to only two beings in this world—her husband and her baby. Sooner or later, perhaps only in a few days, she will discover that Handsome is an impostor. He is such a fool that exposure is inevitable. The blow will almost kill her. Above all, it will humiliate her pride to know that unwittingly she has allowed that drunken brute, that poor counterfeit of her husband, to caress and fondle her. Next in her affections comes her baby. If any danger threatened the child, she would stop at nothing, she would make any sacrifice to ward off the danger. I propose to bring about just that situation——"

The valet half started up from his chair. Hardened and callous as he was in crime, he was hardly prepared to go to that extreme.

"Death?" he exclaimed, horror stricken, "you would kill ze child?"

"No fool—not kill the child. I'll kidnap it—that's all. We'll bring the child here and, then I'll write the mother, telling her where it is and to come to it, but warning her that if she values the child's life, she must tell no one, and must come here unaccompanied. Once she is here, I will take care of the rest. Do you understand?"

The valet breathed more freely.

"So you will that I——"

His chief nodded.

"Precisely. You'll take the flyer to Philadelphia. Say you come from the mother. They'll have no suspicion. Take the child and come here at once. Understand?"

"Oui, monsieur."

Keralio rose. In commanding tones, he said:

"Then go at once."

The valet went to get his hat. As he approached the door Keralio halted him and said:

"What's Handsome doing—keeping sober?"

"He has to, for I lock up all ze liquor. He lives like a lord, buying swell clothes, riding in ze automobile. Last night he lost at ze club $10,000 he had drew from ze bank."

Keralio gave a low whistle.

"The deuce he did! Living high, eh? Well—that's all right. Let him enjoy it. His gay life won't last long—only just as long as it suits my purpose."

"Hush! Not a word—here he is!"

From the landing outside came the sound of a heavy body lurching. Then came the noise of someone groping for the handle, followed by a furious pounding on the wooden panels.

"Open up there, will you!" shouted a hoarse voice.

"Drunk, as usual!" said Keralio contemptuously.

He suddenly threw the door open and the gambler, burly and unsteady on his legs, almost fell in. He was in evening dress, his collar and tie rumpled, his hair unkempt. His face was flushed, his eyes bloodshot. Reeling in, he hiccoughed:

"What'n h—ll do you live so far up town for? I thought I'd never get here. Say, this is the end of the world, ain't it? Jumping off place, eh? Stopped several times on the way to get a drink. My cabby nearly got lost. Been driving me round for three hours trying to locate the blooming house. Charged me $5. Hell of a good business, ain't it. Tain't on the level to treat an old pal that way. Y'oughter be ashamed o' yourself."

"I'm more ashamed of you—for making such a beast of yourself," rejoined Keralio angrily. "Stop your cursed noise or you'll have the police on top of us!"

Without ceremony, he pushed the newcomer into a seat and made a gesture to Francois to go. The valet went toward the door.

"Remember," said Keralio warningly. "There must be no blundering. I want the child brought here——"

"Oui, monsieur—it shall be as you say."

The door closed and Keralio turned quietly to the miner. Sternly, and in a manner that brooked no nonsense, he demanded:

"Did you bring the diamonds?"

Handsome grinned, and pointed to his waist.

"I've got 'em all right!" With another hiccough, he added: "But there's no hurry, old sport. Let's have a drink before we get talking business."

In two rapid strides Keralio was up to him. Fiercely he said:

"Give me the stones—give me them I say. We've no time for your d——d fooling. Hand them over. Come——"

For a moment the gambler just sat and looked at his master. A giant in physical strength compared with the slightly built foreigner, he could have overpowered him as a child might crush an egg-shell, but he lacked the mentality, the magnetism of the Italian. He was cowed, dominated by the stronger mind. Grumbling, he began to fumble at his waist:

"I don't see what's the hurry."

"But I see," exclaimed Keralio, his eyes growing larger, as he already saw the colossal stones glittering in his hand.

The next instant Handsome had slid his hand under his waistcoat and unbuckled a belt he wore next his shirt. Unfastening a pocket and taking out the contents, he growled:

"Here they are! I'm glad to get rid of the d——d things."

With a cry of exultant joy Keralio took hold of the stones and, going to the window, greedily feasted his eyes on them. Report had not exaggerated the value and extraordinary beauty of the gems. They were worth more than a million.

"What do I get out of it?" whined the gambler.

Keralio regarded him with contempt. Dryly he said:

"You get out of it that you're not sitting in the electric chair for murdering your twin brother. You get out of it that you're playing the role of the millionaire, basking in the smiles of your brother's charming wife, and making a drunken beast of yourself—that's what you get out of it. Isn't it enough?"

Handsome winced. Keralio had a direct way of saying things to which there was no answer possible.

"All right," he grumbled, "I'm not kicking."

"No—I wouldn't if I were you."

Changing the topic, Keralio carelessly lit a cigarette and, between the puffs, asked:

"How's your wife?"

"My wife? You mean his wife?"

Keralio smiled.

"Yours—for the time being."

Handsome scowled.

"It isn't so easy as I thought," he replied. "I don't know if she suspects something's wrong or not, but ever since that evening she was called to Philadelphia she avoids me like the pest. I can see in her face that she's puzzled. 'It's my husband, and yet not my husband'—that's what she's thinking all the time. I can guess her thoughts by the expression on her face."

Keralio shrugged his shoulders.

"That's your own fault. I gave you the opportunity. You failed to profit by it. You got drunk the first night you arrived. Kenneth Traynor was a temperate man. Is it no wonder you excited wonder and talk? Then you were stupid under questioning and gave equivocal answers. Your explanation to Parker about the diamonds was more than unfortunate; it was idiotic. His suspicions were at once aroused. He may yet give us trouble before we have time to get rid of the stones. Finding the wife eluded you, you began to stay out late at night. You caroused, you drank hard, you gambled—all of which follies your brother never committed. In other words, you are a fool."

The miner pointed to the diamonds which still lay on the table. Sulkily he asked:

"Is that all you wanted?"

Keralio put the gems away in his pocket, and pointed to the stacks of newly printed counterfeit money that lay in stacks all over the floor.

"No, you can help me make up bundles of this stuff."

Handsome opened wide his eyes at sight of the crisp currency. Greedily he exclaimed:

"Say—that's some money! Ain't they beauties?"

Keralio made an impatient gesture and, taking off his coat, made a gesture to his companion to do likewise.

"Come—there's no time to talk. We must get rid of it all before morning. For all I know the detectives may be watching the house now."



CHAPTER XVII

"I'm sure it was Mary," exclaimed Ray positively. "I never did like the girl. She was sullen and vicious and would stop at nothing to get even with us for discharging her."

"Perhaps you are right," said Helen, "although it is hard to believe that a woman would do such a cruel thing to a mother. Just imagine how worried I was all the way to Philadelphia, only to find when I got there that no message had been sent, and Dorothy was perfectly well."

It was evening. The two women were sitting alone in the library on the second floor, Ray busy at her trousseau, Helen helping her with a piece of embroidery. The master of the house was absent, as usual. He had not come home to dinner, having telephoned at the last minute that he was detained at the club, a thing of such common occurrence since his return from South Africa that Helen had come to accept it as a matter of course. Indeed, things had come to such a pass that she rather welcomed his absence. She preferred the sweet, amiable companionship of her little sister to that of a man who had suddenly become exacting, over-bearing and quarrelsome.

"Why don't you let Dorothy come home?" asked Ray. "Then you wouldn't have this constant worry about her."

"I think I will, now that we are more settled and things are quieter. I wrote to auntie to-day that I might go to Philadelphia one day next week to bring her home. You are right. I shall not be happy until she's with me. I have such terrible dreams about her. If anything were to happen that child, I think it would kill me."

Ray nodded approvingly. Sympathetically, she said:

"Yes, dear. You'll feel better satisfied when she's with you. Besides she'll be a companion for you—especially when I'm married——"

Helen sighed and turned away her face so her sister should not see the tears that suddenly filled her eyes. Sorrowfully, she said:

"It will be terrible to lose you, dear. Of course, I'm happy over your marriage. It would be very selfish in me to want to stand in the way of your happiness. I'm sure I wish you and Wilbur every joy imaginable. But I shall certainly feel very lonely when you are gone."

The young girl looked closely at her sister. She realized that her sister was no longer the happy, contented woman she once was, and she readily guessed the cause. Helen had not taken her into her confidence, but she had ears and eyes. Living in the house in such close intimacy, she could not help noticing that the relations between the wife and husband were no longer what they had been. Guardedly she said:

"But you have Kenneth."

Helen sighed and was silent.

Ray looked up. More gently she said:

"Haven't you your husband, dear?"

Her sister shook her head. There was a note of utter discouragement and melancholy in her voice as she answered:

"He is seldom home—his club seems to have more attraction for him. I rarely see him except at breakfast time." She was silent for a moment, and then added quickly: "Would you believe that he hasn't been home a single night since the time I was called to Philadelphia?"

Ray opened her eyes.

"He's out all night?"

"Yes—all night. The other morning it was seven o'clock when he came home—and his dress suit and shirt looked as if he had been in a fight."

The young girl put down her work and looked at her sister in dismay.

"Sis!—what's the matter with Ken all at once?"

Helen made no reply, but covering her face with her two hands, burst into tears. Ray rose quickly and going over to where she was sitting, sat on the edge of the chair and put her arms about her. Soothingly she said:

"Don't cry, dear, don't cry. He will soon be himself again. His terrible experience on the steamer upset him dreadfully. His nervous system underwent such a shock that it has entirely changed his character. Wilbur says it is quite a common phenomenon. Only the other day he read in some medical book an article on that very subject. The writer says any great shock of that kind can cause a temporary disarrangement of the moral sense and perceptions. For example, a man who, under ordinary circumstances is a perfect model of a husband, with every good quality and virtue, may suddenly lose all sense of conduct and become am unprincipled roue. In other words, we have two natures within us. When our system is working normally we succeed in keeping the evil that's in us under control; but following any great shock, the system is disarranged, the evil gains the ascendancy, and we appear quite another person. This explains the dual personality about which Wilbur and I had an argument the other day. Don't you remember?"

Helen nodded. Sadly she said:

"I begin to think you are right. Certainly he has changed. If he had been like this when I first met him I should never have married him. It is not the Kenneth I learned to love." Bitterly, she added: "As he is now, I feel I dislike and detest him. Unless he soon changes for the better, I shall leave him. In self respect I can't go on living like this?"

Kissing her sister again, Ray rose and went back to her seat. Confidently, she said:

"Don't worry, dear. I'm sure everything will be all right soon. You see if I'm not right. By my wedding day—only three weeks away now—you'll think as much of Ken as ever——"

"I hope so, dear, but three weeks is a long time to wait——"

The young girl laughed.

"Why that's nothing at all. Just imagine Ken is ill or gone away from you on a visit for that length of time——"

As she spoke the door opened, and Francois entered with a silver salver, which he presented to his mistress.

"A letter for Madame."

Helen looked at the envelope and threw it down with a gesture of impatience. Crossly, she exclaimed:

"Francois, I do wish you'd be more careful. Can't you read. Don't you see the letter is addressed to Mr. Traynor?"

The valet nodded.

"Oui, madame. But as Monsieur is out I thought that possibly madame——"

Incensed more at the fellow's impudent air than by what he actually said, Helen lost her temper. Angrily, she exclaimed:

"Don't think. People of your class are not hired to think; they are paid to do as they are told. You've been very careless in your work recently. The next time it happens I shall have to tell you to find another place."

The valet smiled. An insolent look passed over his sallow, angular face. Dropping completely his deferential manner and fixing the two women with a bold, familiar stare, he said impudently:

"You needn't wait till next time. I'll quit right now, parbleu. It's a rotten job, anyhow."

Indignant, Helen pointed to the door.

"Go!" she cried. "The housekeeper will settle with you. Never let me see your face again."

The Frenchman shrugged his shoulders and went toward the door. As he reached it, he turned round, a sneer on his face:

"You'll see me again all right, but ze circumstances may be different? My lady may not be so proud ze next time."

With this parting shot, he went away, and a moment later they heard him going up to his room to pack his things.

Ray turned to her sister. Reprovingly, she said:

"Weren't you a little severe with him?"

Helen shook her head. Quickly, she said:

"I never could bear the sight of the man. He is treacherous and deceitful. I'm not at all sure that he's honest. It was only after he'd been here some time that I learned he was formerly with Signor Keralio. That was enough to set me against him. Like master, like valet, as the saying goes, and it's usually a true saying. On several occasions lately I have noticed things that seemed suspicious. The fellow is more intimate now with Kenneth than I, his wife, have ever been. Only the other day I discovered them in earnest and intimate conversation. Directly I appeared they separated and Francois, instead of continuing to converse on terms of apparent social equality, was once more the fawning valet. I didn't take the trouble to ask Kenneth what it all meant. So many singular things have happened since his return, that this only adds one more to the list."

"May I come in?" said a voice.

Helen looked up quickly. It was Wilbur Steell who was standing at the door with his head half in the room, laughing at them. The two women had been so busy talking that they had not heard the sound of approaching footsteps. With an exclamation of joy Ray jumped to her feet and ran up to him.

"It's Wilbur—my precious Wilbur!"

Helen nodded approvingly, as she noticed the girl's enthusiasm. Certainly her sister had changed. She was hardly the cold, self-centered Ray of six months ago. With a smile she said:

"It's astonishing how a man can alter a girl—if he's the right kind."

The lawyer laughed.

"It works both ways. The right kind of woman can make a man change his ways—even a hardened old bachelor. Who could have guessed that I would ever fall in love?"

Helen sighed.

"What is love? We have it to-day; it eludes us to-morrow. A few weeks ago I thought I loved my husband better than any being in the world. To-day, I can hardly look him in the face. How do you account for it?"

Dropping into a chair, the lawyer look serious.

"I can't account for it, nor can I blame you. Kenneth has returned from South Africa a changed man. Whether the wreck and the loss of the diamonds affected his mind I do not know. Only a psychologist could determine that. But he is not the same. Where is he to-night?"

Helen threw up her hands.

"Do I ever know?" she exclaimed wearily. "I haven't seen him since morning, and don't expect to see him before breakfast to-morrow. He's at his club or drinking and carousing, or in some gambling house playing roulette. How do I know?"

"It is certainly a most singular case," said the lawyer meditatively. "Mr. Parker and I have gone carefully over his accounts at the Company's office. Everything is perfectly regular. There only remains the missing diamonds. We have detectives working on half a dozen clues but so far we have accomplished nothing. We have also gone to Washington to get the secret service men interested in the case on the ground that if the diamonds are here they were smuggled in and no duty was paid. But we found the secret service men busy following up counterfeiters. The country is being flooded with counterfeit $10 bills—a splendid reproduction, almost defying detection. It is believed that the plates and presses from which they are made are right here in New York and the whole secret service force is at work trying to run the counterfeiters to earth. This is why our diamond case is going so slowly. They are so busy following up the counterfeiters they have no time for us."

Ray, much interested, leaned eagerly forward.

"A counterfeit ten dollar bill, did you say?" she demanded.

"Yes—it is a remarkable counterfeit. You would not know it from a good one. Only an expert can tell the difference. But all these crooks overreach themselves. Clever as they are, they usually leave some mark which betrays them. For example, in printing this bill which bears the head of Lincoln, they have spelled his first name 'Abrahem'—in other words, the engraver made an 'e' when it should have been 'a.'"

Ray jumped up, quite excited. Her eyes flashing, she cried.

"Isn't that strange! I have a new $10 bill, and I noticed to-day the queer spelling of Abraham. Wouldn't it be funny if I had one of the counterfeits?"

The lawyer smiled.

"It wouldn't be funny; it would be a tragedy, considering that in a short while from now I am to pay your bills. Where is the bank note?"

"I'll run up and get it. It's in my purse."

When she had disappeared, Steell turned to his hostess and said:

"Have you seen Signor Keralio lately?"

"Hardly—you know I dismissed him from the house."

The lawyer sat thoughtfully drumming his fingers on the table. Musingly, he said:

"Somehow I have a hunch that that fellow knows something about the diamonds. Does Kenneth ever see him?"

"I asked him the other day. He said he did not."

"That's strange!" exclaimed the lawyer. "It was only yesterday morning that I saw them together in a taxicab."

"Where?" demanded Helen, surprised.

"Away uptown. I had business up in the Bronx. I was driving my car and was near 200th street and going north when suddenly I had to steer to one side to allow a taxicab to pass. There were two men in it. I just chanced to glance inside and, to my surprise, I recognized your husband and Keralio."

"What time was that?"

"Very early—about nine o'clock."

"What direction?"

"They were coming south."

"Then he must have been with Keralio all night, for he didn't come home."

The lawyer was silent. Certainly here was a mystery which needed more detective talent than he possessed to clear up. Yet he would not rest until it was solved. To-morrow he would get Dick Reynolds busy, and they would go to work in earnest. The first thing to find out was what took Keralio and Kenneth to the Bronx.

"Does Keralio live in the Bronx?"

"I don't know," said Helen.

"I'll find out," said the lawyer, grimly.

At that moment Ray returned, holding out a new ten-dollar bill.

"I was right," she cried. "The name Abraham is spelled with an 'e.' Do you really think this is a counterfeit?"

The lawyer took the bill and examined it critically.

"I have no doubt of it," he answered. "There are other indications—the general appearance, the touch of the paper. Where did you get it?"

For a moment the young girl was puzzled.

"Let me think. Where did I get it. Oh yes, I know. Francois gave it to me."

"Francois!" exclaimed Helen.

The lawyer started and looked up in surprise.

"Francois, your brother-in-law's valet?"

"Yes—I wanted a $20 bill changed to pay for some things that came home from the store, and he went out and brought me some old bills and this new one."

The lawyer gave vent to a low, expressive whistle.

"Francois gave it to you, eh? Where is Francois?"

"I discharged him to-day for insolence," said Helen.

"He's gone!"

"Yes—he went shortly before you came in."

The lawyer jumped to his feet, a look of exultation on his face. Quickly, he said:

"Didn't you say that this Francois was formerly with Signor Keralio?"

"Yes—he was with him for years."

The lawyer gave a wild whoop of joy.

"Then we've got it—at last."

"Got what?" cried the women.

"A clue—a clue!" cried the lawyer, excitedly. "Can't you see it? Francois is hand in glove with Keralio—the master rogue who is making this counterfeit."

"What do you propose to do?"

"Find where Keralio lives—then, perhaps, we'll find the lost diamonds."



CHAPTER XVIII

"This way," whispered Dick, as he darted swiftly from door to door, "keep close behind me, and stick to the wall, or he'll see you."

But Francois was so utterly fagged after his long walk from the Elevated road, carrying his heavy suitcase, that he worried about nothing save his own discomfort. Unable to find a taxi, he had been compelled to tramp the entire distance, and the fatigue of it had made him peevish. He could have saved himself at least a mile if he had taken a more direct road, but Keralio's orders were explicit. He must always follow a circuitous route so as to throw possible pursuers off the scent. There was no disobeying the orders of the chief, so on he trudged, looking neither to right nor left, up one street, down another, now crossing an empty lot, now darting through a narrow alley, through the wastes and dreariness of Bronxville.

As he approached his journey's end, he accelerated his pace, going along so fast that it was as much as Dick and Steell could do to keep up with him. The night was dark and foggy, and at times they could not see him for the mist. But as he came within the glare of each lamp post, they could make out his lithe figure, scurrying along as if the devil himself were at his heels.

"Let's get up closer," gasped Dick, who was winded from the long chase. "I guess their den is in this neighborhood. He'll slip in somewhere and we'll lose him if we keep so far away."

"No—he may see us," whispered Steell cautiously. "We can make him out all right."

They increased their pace a little. The valet was less than two blocks away, and once he actually stopped and looked around as if to see if he was followed. Quickly Steell and Dick darted under a doorway, and, seeing nothing to arouse his suspicion, Francois went on.

The lawyer was taking no chances to-night. It was too good a game to spoil. That they were on the right trail at last he was morally certain. Ray's experience had given him the first clue. After that it was easy. For two days Dick had shadowed the valet, and seen him changing crisp $10 bills in half a dozen different places. The lawyer could have had him arrested at once, but he was after bigger game. It was not enough to arrest Francois. He was only the tool. They must get the man higher up, the man who employed him. That man, the lawyer felt equally confident, was Keralio. He was the master counterfeiter. The first step to take was to find out where the counterfeiting was done, where Keralio had his plant, and the only way to do this was to follow the valet to his master's secret den.

For several days they had shadowed the Frenchman constantly, until to-night they were rewarded by seeing him start with a suit case in the direction of the Bronx. They quickly gave chase, the lawyer confident of results. It was not part of his plan, however, to hurry matters or do things prematurely. To-night they would merely reconnoiter. They would content themselves by watching the premises, seeing who came and went, and trying to obtain a glimpse of the interior. If the evidence was incriminating enough to make a raid successful, it would always be time enough to call in the police. Keralio, he was also well convinced, had something to do with the missing diamonds, and possibly the present investigation would throw some light on the mystery surrounding Kenneth himself. He had made no mention of his suspicions to Helen, but he could not help feeling that in some way, yet to be discovered, his old comrade had become involved with a band of crooks. How otherwise explain his acquaintance with Keralio, an utter stranger of dubious antecedents. How explain the loss of the diamonds? The explanation Kenneth had given was decidedly fishy. Parker did not believe a word of it—in fact, frankly expressed, his opinion was that his vice-president had disposed of the gems. Had he himself not seen Kenneth driving about the Bronx with Keralio at an impossible hour? Had not Helen discovered Francois conversing on intimate terms with his master? It all looked decidedly bad; only time could unravel it all. It was a fearful thing to suspect a man of Kenneth's standing, but everything pointed to his being involved in a vast network of crime.

He was aroused from his reflections by an exclamation of warning from his companion.

"Quick—there he goes!" whispered Dick.

The valet had suddenly made a sharp turn to the right, and was lost to view. But quick as he was, Dick was quicker. The young man was a little ahead of the lawyer, and, putting on a spurt of speed, he reached the corner just in time to see the Frenchman and suitcase disappear into a grimy, dilapidated looking tenement at the end of a blind alley.

"We've run the fox to earth," whispered Steell exultantly.

"Could any melodrama wish for a more appropriate mise-en-scene?" grinned Dick.

"Come opposite, and find out what we can see from the outside."

Crossing the street they took up positions in the shadow of a doorway.

The house which the Frenchman had entered was all dark and apparently tenantless, except on the top floor where lights could be faintly seen behind hermetically sealed shutters. Straining his ears, Steell thought he could hear the steady hum of machinery in motion. With an exclamation of satisfaction, he turned to his companion:

"We've got 'em, Dick, we've got 'em. Do you hear the presses going?"

The young man listened. The sound was plainly audible, but it was a muffled sound, as if the walls and windows were padded with mattresses to prevent any sounds of the operations within from reaching inquisitive, outside ears.

"Let's go upstairs," whispered Steell.

Recrossing the road, they entered the house and began to grope their way up the narrow, winding staircase. They could make only slow progress, not only because of the absence of light, but owing to the rotten condition of the stairs. Indescribably filthy and littered with all sorts of rubbish and broken glass, in some places the boards had broken through entirely, leaving gaping holes, which were so many dangerous pitfalls. Twice the lawyer came near breaking his neck.

At last they reached the top, both out of breath from the long and perilous climb.

"Hush—there it is!" whispered Dick pointing at the end of a narrow hall to a door from underneath which issued a faint glimmer of light.

Cautiously, noiselessly, treading on tiptoe, the lawyer and his companion crept along the passage until they came to the door. They listened. There was not a sound. Even the hum of machinery which they had heard in the street, had ceased. Could the inmates have taken alarm?

All at once they heard people talking. Instantly, Steell recognized the voice of Keralio. He was questioning someone, no doubt the valet. They listened.

"Well, did you carry out my orders?"

"Oui, monsieur, ze last of ze ten-dollar bills has been passed. I have ze money here."

"I did not mean that," broke in Keralio impatiently. "I mean as regards the child——"

"Oui, monsieur. Didn't you receive my telegram. I brought the child from Philadelphia yesterday evening."

Steell, puzzled, turned to his companion.

"What child are they talking about?" he whispered.

"I have no idea. Some more mischief they're up to, I guess."

Again Keralio's voice was heard asking:

"Where is Handsome to-day? I told him to come. Why isn't he here?"

"He's drinking again, monsieur. When he's drunk you can't do anything with him. He's getting ugly about ze diamonds."

Steell nudged his fellow eavesdropper.

"Did you hear that?" he whispered. "He spoke of diamonds!"

Keralio was heard bursting into a peal of savage laughter.

"Getting ugly is he? What does he want?"

"He says you promised him half of ze proceeds when ze diamonds were sold, and that now you are trying to do him out of it—— He says he's sick of ze whole thing and will squeal to ze police unless you do ze right thing."

Straining every nerve to hear, Steell glued his ear to the door.

Keralio burst out fiercely:

"Squeal, will he, the dog? I'd like to know what will become of him when the final reckoning's paid. Will he tell the police that he was a drunken adventurer in the South African mining camps before his twin brother, Kenneth Traynor, arrived at Cape Town? Will he tell the police that he set the steamer afire, murdered his own brother, and, profiting by the extraordinary resemblance, returned to New York, passing himself off as the man who went away. No, he won't tell all that, will he? But I will. Did you bring the money? Let me see it."

The talking suddenly ceased, and was followed by a deep silence. Steell, staggered at this unexpected revelation, almost stumbled in his eagerness to hear more. Turning to his companion, he exclaimed in a horror-stricken whisper:

"My God! Did you hear that? It's even worse than I feared. They've done away with Kenneth. That man at the house is an impostor!"

"An impostor?" ejaculated Dick. "Impossible. Don't we all know Kenneth when we see him?"

"Nothing's impossible!" rejoined the lawyer hurriedly. "Kenneth had a twin brother—the resemblance was so extraordinary as children that no one knew them apart. The brother disappeared years ago. They thought him dead. Kenneth must have come across him in South Africa. This brother killed him and took his place. It's all clear to me now. We're in a den of assassins!"

Inside the conversation began again.

"Hush! Listen!" whispered Steell.

The voice of Keralio was once more raised in angry tones.

"Didn't I tell you that I wanted the child brought here at once?"

"Oui, monsieur, but I could not. I had ze rest of ze money to get rid of and ze suitcase to carry. I will bring her in a taxi to-morrow."

"Where is she?"

"Safe in the care of the woman who runs my boarding house."

"When did you bring her from Philadelphia?"

"Yesterday afternoon."

"Did you have any trouble?"

"Non, monsieur. I didn't even have to go to ze house, although I had a plausible story all ready. I was going to say that Mrs. Traynor had sent me to fetch Miss Dorothy because her mother wanted her home for ze coming marriage of Miss Ray. But it wasn't necessary to lie about it. I found ze child playing in ze street near the house. I merely told her her mamma wanted her to come home, gave her some candy, and she followed me willingly enough."

"By this time the alarm has been given."

"Sans doute, monsieur. They probably telegraphed Mrs. Traynor last night that ze child was missing——"

The voices again stopped. Steell, his face white, and fists clenched, turned to his companion:

"Good Heavens, Dick, did you hear that? They've kidnapped Mrs. Traynor's little girl—no doubt, with the idea of demanding ransom. Thank God, we're in time to frustrate that crime——"

"Hush!" exclaimed his companion. "Listen!"

Keralio proceeded:

"Now you understand what you are to do. You bring the child here to-morrow morning. Meantime, I have already written in a disguised hand to Mrs. Traynor telling her that her child is safe—for the present, and that if she wants to see her she must come here to-morrow afternoon. I warned her that if she communicated with the police or informed any of her friends, the child would be put to death before it would be possible to effect a rescue. That ought to bring her here——"

"Would monsieur go as far as to kill——"

"Why not," demanded Keralio fiercely. "I permit nothing to stand in the way of my will. That woman can save her child's life, but she must pay the price I ask. She shall learn what it costs to dismiss me from her house——"

The valet was heard to chuckle as he said:

"I don't love her any too much myself. She discharged me from her employ the other day so haughtily I felt like a whipped cur."

Again there was silence, followed by a muffled hammering.

"They're taking the printing press apart," whispered Dick, who through the keyhole, had managed to get a glimpse of machinery. "If we don't act quickly, they'll get away with all the evidence. Hadn't we better go and call the police?"

For answer, the lawyer put his fingers to his lips with a warning gesture, and beckoning the young man to follow, retraced his steps on tiptoe along the narrow, dark hall and down the filthy, winding staircase. Not a word was spoken by either man until they reached the street. Once in the open air, the lawyer turned and said:

"Dick, we've uncovered as black a plot as was ever hatched in hell. If we don't queer the game and put them all in the chair it won't be my fault. We can't bring poor Kenneth back to life, but we can and will revenge his cowardly murder. It will be a positive joy to me to see that arch-scoundrel Keralio electrocuted."

"What do you propose to do?" asked his companion. "Hadn't we better call Mrs. Traynor on the telephone and warn her before it's too late?"

The lawyer was silent for a few moments. Then meditatively, he said:

"No, that would be a mistake. No doubt, by this time, she has received Keralio's anonymous letter. She is probably frantic with anxiety over the news of her child's disappearance, and will respond eagerly to any clue that promises to take her to her child. If we warned her she would pay no heed. She might pretend to, but only to pacify us. Afraid that punishment might be visited on the child, she would obey the warning not to talk, and she will come here to Keralio's flat to-morrow at the time the letter stated. Of course, she has no idea Keralio wrote the letter. But even if she had, it would make no difference. I know her. She would run any risk to save her child."

"I think you're right," replied Dick, "but how, then, will you help her? There is no knowing what Keralio's object is in enticing her here—you can be sure it's nothing good."

"Precisely—that's why we, too, must be on hand, together with a strong force of detectives. We'll get them all. There will be no possible escape. We'll surround the house with men. They'll be caught like rats in a trap."

The lawyer turned to go.

"Where are you bound now?" asked Dick.

"To police headquarters!"



CHAPTER XIX

"There—take a little water—you're much better now!" said the nurse, soothingly.

The patient swallowed greedily the cooling drink handed to him, and, tired even by that small effort, fell back on his pillows exhausted.

"Where am I?" he inquired of the comely young woman, who in neat service uniform, hovered about the bed.

"You're in St. Mary's Hospital."

"In New York?" he queried.

"No—San Francisco——"

He was too weak to question further, but his hollow blue eyes followed her as she moved here and there, attending skilfully and swiftly to the duties of the sick room. Presently he made another venture:

"Have I been ill long?"

"Yes—very long."

"What's the matter?"

"Concussion of the brain, pneumonia and shock. You are much better now, but you mustn't talk so much or you may have a relapse."

He asked no more, but passed his hand over his brow in a bewildered sort of way. Presently, he began again:

"Does my wife come to see me?"

The nurse stopped in her work and looked at him curiously. In surprise, she exclaimed:

"Your wife! Have you a wife?"

It was his turn now to be surprised. In somewhat peevish tone he said:

"Of course I've a wife—everyone knows that."

"What's her name?"

"Helen—Helen Traynor." Enthusiastically, he added: "Oh, you'd just love my wife if you only knew her. She's the sweetest, the most unselfish——"

The nurse looked at him curiously.

"So your name is Traynor, is it? We've tried to find out for a long time. But there were no marks on your clothes when you were picked up. We did not know who you were and so have not been able to communicate with any of your friends. We guessed you were a man of social position by your hands and teeth, and we knew your name began with a T because of the monogram on the signet ring on your finger."

"Pick me up?" he echoed. "Where did they pick me up? What has happened? Was it an accident?"

"You were found unconscious, drifting in the ocean, clinging to a spar, and were brought here by a sailing vessel. You had a fracture of the skull and you were half drowned. It is supposed that you were one of the passengers of the Abyssinia, which took fire and went down two days after leaving Cape Town, but as several passengers and officers whose bodies were never found also had names beginning with T, it was impossible to identify you."

As he listened, the vacant, stupid expression on his face gradually gave place to a more alert, intelligent look. Indistinctly, vaguely, he recalled things that had happened. Slowly his brain cells began to work.

He remembered cabling to Helen from Cape Town telling her of his sailing on the Abyssinia. He recalled the incidents of the first day at sea. The weather was beautiful. Everything pointed to a good voyage. Who was traveling with him? He could not remember. Oh, yes, now he knew. Francois, his valet, and that other queer fellow he had picked up at the diamond mines—his twin brother. Yes, it all came back to him now.

Why had he gone to the diamond mines? Yes, now he knew—to take back to New York the two big stones found on the Company's land. He had them safe in a belt he wore round his waist next to his skin. The second night out he went to bed about midnight and was fast asleep when suddenly he heard shouts of "Fire! Fire!" Jumping up and looking out of his cabin he saw stewards and passengers running excitedly about. There was a reddish glare and a suffocating smell of smoke. Quickly he buckled on the belt with the diamonds, and, slipping on his trousers, went out. The electric lights had gone out. The ship was in complete darkness. From all sides came shouts of men and screams of frightened women. It was a scene of utter demoralization and horror. He was groping his way along the narrow passage, when, suddenly, out of the gloom a man sprang upon him, and, taken entirely by surprise, he was borne to the deck before he had time to defend himself. He could not see the man's face and thought it was one of the passengers or sailors who had gone mad, but when he felt a tug at his belt where the diamonds were, he knew he had to do with a thief. He fought back with all his strength, but he was unarmed, while the stranger had a black jack which he used unmercifully, raining fearful blows on his head. The struggle was too unequal to last. Weak from loss of blood, he relaxed his grip, and the thief, dealing one fearful parting blow, tore away the belt and disappeared. His life blood was flowing away, he felt sick and dizzy, but just as the thief turned to run he managed to get a glimpse of his face. Now he remembered that face—it was the face of his twin brother—the man he had rescued from starvation on the veldt.

Yes, it all came back to him now, like a horrible nightmare. What had happened since then? How could he tell, since all this time his mind had been a blank? Helen, no doubt, believed him dead. Mr. Parker and all the others thought he had gone down with the ship. But what of his valet, Francois, and his cowardly, murderous brother—were they saved? If so, the thief had the diamonds, and had probably disposed of them by this time. Perhaps there might still be time to capture the would-be assassin and save the gems for the Americo-African Company. Brother or no brother, he would have no more pity on the unnatural, miserable cutthroat. The first step was to let his friends know where he was. He must telegraph at once to Helen.

Yet, on second thought, it would not be wise to do that. If Helen really believed him dead and was now mourning his loss, it might be almost a fatal shock if suddenly she were to receive a telegram saying he was alive. Such shocks have been known to kill people. A better plan would be to get well as soon as possible, leave the hospital, and go to New York. Once there, he could go quietly to his office and learn how matters were.

The days passed, the convalescent making speedy progress toward recovery, and in a few weeks more he was able to leave the hospital. Making himself known quietly to a San Francisco business acquaintance, he was quickly supplied with funds and immediately he turned his face homeward.

The long, overland journey was tedious and exhausting, especially in his present weakened condition, and even those who knew him well would hardly have recognized in the pale emaciated looking stranger with ill fitting clothes and untrimmed full growth of beard who emerged from the train at the Grand Central Station, the carefully dressed, well groomed Kenneth Traynor who, only a few months before, had sailed away from New York on the Mauretania.

The noise and turmoil of the big metropolis, in striking contrast to the quiet and seclusion of the sick room in which he had lived for so many weeks, astonished him. The crowds of suburbanites rushing frantically for trains, elbowing and pushing in their anxiety to get home, the strident hoarse cries of newsboys, the warning shouts of wagon drivers as they drove recklessly here and there at murderous speed, the blowing of auto horns, the ceaseless hum and roar of the big city's heavy traffic—all this bewildered and dazed him. At first he did not remember just in what direction to turn, whether he lived in the East or West side, uptown or down. But as he got more accustomed to his surroundings, it all came back to him. How stupid—of course he had to go downtown to 20th Street. Once more he was himself again. Hailing a taxi, he started for Gramercy Park.

Conflicting emotions stirred his breast as he drew near his home. What joy it would be to clasp Helen once more in his arms. How delighted she would be to see him! Then he was filled with anxiety, a sudden feeling of dread came over him. Suppose some misfortune, some calamity had happened during his absence! Helen might have met with some accident. Baby might have been ill. The worst might have happened. He would never have heard. Perhaps he was only going home to find his happiness wrecked forever.

The driver made his way with difficulty down Fifth Avenue, threading his way in and out the entanglement of carriages and automobiles, until, after a ten minutes' run, turned into Gramercy Park and pulled up short on the curb of the Traynor residence.

Eagerly Kenneth put his head out of the window and scanned the windows for a glimpse of the loved one, but no one, not even a servant, was visible. The house looked deserted. His misgivings returned. Stepping out hastily, he paid the driver, and, running up the steps, rang the bell.

Roberts, the faithful old butler, who had been in the family service for years, came to open. Seeing a rather shabbily attired person outside, he held the door partly closed and demanded, suspiciously:

"Who is it you wish to see?"

Irritated at the manner of his reception, Kenneth gave the door a push that nearly knocked the servant over. Angrily, he exclaimed:

"What's the matter, Roberts? Didn't you see it was me?"

The butler, who had recovered himself, and now believed he had to do with a crank or some person under the influence of liquor, again barred the way. Trying to push the unwelcome visitor out, he said soothingly:

"Come now, my good man, you've made a mistake. You don't live here."

Struck almost speechless with amazement at the brazen impudence of one whom he had always regarded as a model servant, Kenneth turned round as if about to make a wrathful outburst. As he turned, the light from the open door fell full on his face and now for the first time Roberts saw the visitor's features. With a startled exclamation the man fell backward. For a moment he was so surprised that he could not speak. Then, in an awe-stricken whisper, he cried:

"Who are you?"

For a moment Kenneth thought the man had suddenly become insane. For his own servant not to know him was too ridiculous. At that moment he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror of the hat stand. Ah, now he understood. The beard and emaciated face had made quite a difference—no wonder the man failed to recognize him. Breaking into laughter he exclaimed:

"No wonder you didn't recognize me, Roberts. I have changed a little, haven't I? I've grown a beard since I saw you last and been through a regular mill. But you know me now don't you—I'm your long lost master."

The servant shook his head. Still closely scrutinizing Kenneth's face as if greatly puzzled, he said:

"You're not my master, sir. Mr. Kenneth Traynor left the house some ten minutes before you arrived."

Kenneth stared at the man as if he thought he had gone clean out of his mind.

"I went out ten minutes before I arrived," he echoed. "What kind of nonsense is that, Roberts?"

"I didn't say you went out," replied the servant, beginning to lose his patience. "I said Mr. Kenneth Traynor went out. You are not Mr. Kenneth Traynor."

"Then who in the name of heaven am I?"

"I haven't the remotest idea," retorted the man. Condescendingly, he went on: "I admit you look a little like the master." Impatiently he added:

"You must excuse me. I want to close the door."

Instead of obeying the hint to withdraw, Kenneth strode further into the house, the protesting and indignant butler at his heels.

"You must really go," said the servant.

Kenneth turned around.

"Roberts—don't be a fool. Don't you know me? I know why you don't recognize me. You all think me dead, but I'm very much alive. I did not go down on the Abyssinia. I was picked up and taken to San Francisco and have been in a hospital there ever since. I have just come home. Where's my wife?"

The butler stared and stood motionless, as if not knowing what to make of it.

"But you came home long ago."

"Who came home?"

"You did."

"No, I didn't. I've been in San Francisco all the time. How could I be here if I was sick in a San Francisco hospital?"

"Then who is the other Mr. Traynor?"

Now it was Kenneth's turn to be surprised.

"The other Mr. Traynor?" he echoed stupefied.

"Yes—the gentleman who looks more like you than you do yourself. He arrived here a month ago. We all took him for you."

For the first time a light broke in on the darkness. Who was the person who looked so like him that he could successfully impersonate him? Who could it be but the man who left him for dead on the Abyssinia after murderously assaulting him? Suddenly a horrible thought came to him. Grasping the butler's arm he exclaimed:

"My wife? Is she well?"

"Yes, sir. Mrs. Traynor's quite well."

"And Dorothy?"

"Quite well, sir."

"Thank God!"

The servant hesitated.

"That is—sir—Miss Dorothy——"

"Out with it, man. Out with it."

"Mrs. Traynor's being greatly worried sir, lately. Miss Dorothy was at her aunt's in Philadelphia——"

"Yes, yes——"

"Someone's run away with Miss Dorothy. She's been kidnapped."

"My God!"

"But Mrs. Traynor has a clue. She got a letter yesterday, saying where the child was. She wouldn't confide in any of us and she left here only half an hour ago to go to the place."

Again Kenneth was seized by panic.

"Gone to a kidnapper's den. Great God! She's running a terrible risk. Where has she gone? I'll go to her."

"I don't know, sir, but Mr. Steell may know——"

"Ah, that's right. I'll go and see Steell."

Not waiting to say more he rushed down the steps, and, hailing another taxi, went off at full speed in the direction of Wilbur Steell's office.



CHAPTER XX

The startling news from Philadelphia that Dorothy had suddenly disappeared and was believed to have been kidnapped, fell upon the Traynor home with the crushing force of a bombshell. At first Helen refused to credit the report. It seemed impossible that any new suffering was to be inflicted upon her after what she had already endured. White faced, her whole being shaken by emotion, she read and re-read her aunt's letter, telling of the child's mysterious disappearance, and when at last she could read it no more because of the tears that blinded her, she threw herself limp and broken hearted into Ray's arms. Hysterically she cried:

"What have I done that I should be made to suffer in this way? My God! Where is my child? This maddening suspense will kill me."

Ray tried to soothe her. Reassuringly, she said:

"Don't worry, dear. Everything will be all right. A general alarm has been sent out. The police all over the country are searching high and low. It's only a question of a few hours and you'll have good news."

But the hours passed and no news came to cheer the distracted, broken-hearted mother. Dorothy had disappeared completely, leaving no trace, no clue behind.

There was neither rest nor peace for the Traynor household that day. Helen, almost out of her mind from grief and worry, refused to eat or sleep until news of the missing child was received. In her agony she went down on her knees and prayed as she had never prayed before that her child be restored to her.

Her little daughter was, she felt, the one link that still bound her to life. To her husband she felt she could not turn for sympathy. The romance of their early married life had been shattered forever by the extraordinary change that had come over him. He had long since ceased to be to her any more than a name. In her heart, she had come to despise and detest him as much as before she had worshiped the very ground he trod. It was an astonishing revulsion of feeling which she was powerless to explain; she only knew that the old love, the old passion he had awakened was now quite dead. He inspired in her no more affection or feeling than the merest stranger. Ever since his return from South Africa they had lived apart. Ever since that first night of his return when their tete-a-tete in the library was interrupted by the bogus telegram, he had quite ceased his amorous advances. He seemed anxious to avoid her. Only on rare occasions, and then it was by accident, did they find themselves in each other's company.

In fact, he was practically never home, living almost exclusively at the club, where he went the pace with associates of his choosing, mostly gamblers and men about town. He had begun to drink hard and when not in pool rooms or at the races, betting recklessly on the horses, squandering such huge sums, and overdrawing his check account so often that the bank was compelled to ask him to desist, he sat in the barrooms with his cronies till all hours of the morning when he would be brought home in a condition of shocking intoxication. Happily Helen was spared the spectacle of the degradation of a man she once had loved with all the force of her virgin soul. Roberts, the butler, aided by the other servants, smuggled their intoxicated master up to his room, where he remained until sober, when he went back to his club only to repeat the same performance.

To such a man she could not turn for aid or consolation in the hour of this new misfortune. Indeed, ever since his return, he had been strangely indifferent to the welfare of the child, never asking after her or expressing a desire to see her. At times it seemed as if he had forgotten that he had a child. By some strange metamorphosis he had developed into an unnatural father as well as a brutal, indifferent husband.

But to Helen, alone save for the devoted companionship of her sister, this was anxiety and suffering enough. Only twenty-four hours had passed since the child disappeared, but to the unhappy mother it seemed as many years. Constantly at the telephone, expecting each moment to hear that the police had been successful in finding the child, she was gradually wearing herself away to a shadow. Breakfast she left untouched. Lunch she refused to eat. In vain Ray remonstrated with her. If she went on like that she would fall ill. But still Helen refused. Tears choked her, and morning wore into afternoon and still no news.

After lunch Ray went out to see if Mr. Steell could help them, promising to return as soon as possible. Helen sat and waited alone. The clock was just striking two o'clock when the front doorbell rang and a letter was brought to her. She did not recognize the writing, but eagerly she tore it open. Instinctively, she felt it concerned her missing darling. The letter read as follows:

No. — Lasalle Street, Bronx. Friday.

Madame:

Your child is safe and in good hands. She wants to see her mother. If you come this afternoon (Friday) to the above address you can see her. It is the house with the closed green shutters. But if you value your child's life you must come unaccompanied, and you must inform no one of the contents of this letter, not even the members of your family. If you disobey, swift punishment will follow and your child will suffer. Climb eight flights and knock three times on door at end of passage.——X.

There was no signature. The person who wrote it evidently had reasons of his own for wishing to remain concealed. That money would be demanded was more than probable. What other motive could the kidnapper have? Money she would give—all she had in the world, if only she could get back her precious child. That a visit to such a place unattended was full of danger she did not stop to consider. She only knew that her child was close by—here in New York—and had asked for her. Not for a moment did she listen to the warnings of prudence. Go she must, and immediately. She did not even stop to leave a note of explanation for Ray. Stuffing some money in a bag, she left the house, saying she would return soon.

Taking the Third Avenue "L" she left the train at Tremont Avenue, and, after considerable difficulty, found the house indicated in the letter. Yes, there were the closed green shutters. At first, on seeing it apparently untenanted, she thought she must have made a mistake in the number, but, finding that there was no other place near by that answered the description as well, she decided to risk climbing the long flight of stairs.

Arrived on the top floor, breathless from the unusual exertion, she saw a long narrow passage, and, at the end of that, a door. That, no doubt, was the place. Her heart beating violently, she went up to the door and gave the three knocks. For a moment or so there was no answer. A profound stillness reigned. Then she heard footsteps approaching, The next instant, the door was thrown open and a man's voice, which sounded somewhat familiar, told her to enter.

At first when she went in, she could see nothing. All the shutters of the windows looking on the street were closed, and the only light was that which filtered through the slats. It was an ordinary, cheap flat, with no carpets on the floors and little or no furniture. On the floor, scattered here and there, were nailed-up boxes, and parts of machinery, some already crated, as if to be taken away.

"So you've come! I thought you would," said a voice behind her.

She turned and found herself face to face with Signor Keralio.

At first she was so astonished that she was speechless. Then her instinct prompted her to turn and flee. If this man had caused her to be decoyed to this house it could be for no good purpose. But there was no way of egress. The front door was closed and locked. Not a human soul was within call. She was alone in an empty house with the one man she distrusted and feared more than any one else in the world.

Making an effort to conceal her alarm, she turned and faced him boldly:

"What are you doing here?" she asked.

He smiled—a horrid, cynical smile she knew only too well.

"Has not a man the right to be in his own home?"

She started back in surprise.

"This your home?" she exclaimed, glancing around at the scanty and shabby furnishings.

He shrugged his shoulders.

"Oh, don't judge by appearances. I'm really very comfortable here. It's away from the world. I like to work undisturbed." Significantly, he added: "Then, you see, it is all my own. I am quite at home here in my own house. No one can put me out—not even you——"

She raised her hand deprecatingly.

"Please don't remind me of that. I have forgotten it long ago."

His eyes flashed dangerously as he made a step near and exclaimed:

"You have, but I have not. I have not forgotten that you put me out of your house ignominiously as one turns out a servant. I have neither forgotten nor forgiven. That is why you are here to-day."

She looked at him in utter astonishment.

"What do you mean?"

He bowed and, with mock courtesy, waved her to a seat.

"I will tell you. Did you receive a letter to-day?"

"Yes—I did."

"You came here in answer to that letter."

"Yes—I did."

"Do you know who wrote that letter?"

"No—not the least."

"It was I—I wrote the letter."

With a stifled cry of mingled fright and amazement, Helen jumped up from the chair.

"You wrote the letter?" she exclaimed, incredulously.

He nodded.

"Yes—I wrote the letter."

Her eyes opened wide with terror, her hands clasped together nervously, she exclaimed:

"Then you are——"

He bowed.

"Exactly. I am the kidnapper of your child——"

Speechless, she stared at him, her large black eyes opened wide with terror. Looking wildly about her as if seeking her little daughter, she gasped:

"Dorothy? Dorothy here? Where is she?"

"She is safe," he replied calmly.

"Where is she, where is she? Take me to her!" she cried, distractedly, going up to him and clasping her hands in humble supplication.

He shook off the hand which, in her maternal anxiety, she had laid on his arm. Lighting a cigarette, he gave a low laugh.

"Plenty of time. There's no hurry. You're not going yet."

Anxiously, she scrutinized his face, as if trying to read his meaning.

"She's going when I go, isn't she?"

He shrugged his shoulders.

"That depends—on you."

"What do you mean?"

Again he waved her to a seat.

"Sit down and I'll tell you."

Trembling, she dropped once more on to a chair and waited. He puffed deliberately at his cigarette for a few moments and then, turning his glance in her direction, he smiled in a peculiar, horrible way and his eyes ran over her figure in a way that made the crimson rush furiously to her cheek. There was no mistaking that smile. It was the bold, lustful look of the voluptuary who enjoys letting his eyes feast on the prey that he knows cannot now escape him.

"Mrs. Traynor," he began in the caressing, dulcet tones which she feared more than his anger, "you are an exceptional woman. To most men of my temperament you would not appeal. They would find your beauty too statuesque and cold. I know you are clever, but love cannot feed on intellect alone, I have loved many women, but never a woman just like you. Your coldness, your haughty reserve, your refinement would intimidate most men and keep them at a distance, but not me. Your aloofness, your indifference only spurs me, only adds to the acuteness of my desire. I swore to myself that I would conquer you, overcome your resistance, bend you to my will. You turned me out of your home. I swore to be avenged."

He stopped for a moment and watched her closely as if studying and enjoying the effect of his words. Then, amid a cloud of blue tobacco smoke, he went on:

"I knew only one way to win you—it was to humiliate you, to place you in a position where you would have to come to me on your knees."

She half rose from her chair.

"I would never do that," she cried. "I would rather die!"

"Oh, yes, you will," he continued, calmly, making a gesture to her to remain seated. "When I've told you all, you'll see things in a different light." Fixing her steadily with his piercing black eyes, he asked: "Have you noticed any difference in your husband since his return."

She looked up quickly.

"Yes—what does it mean? Can you explain?"

He nodded.

"Did you ever hear your husband speak of a twin brother he once had?"

Her face turned white as death and her heart throbbing violently, she stared helplessly at her persecutor. She tried to be calm, but she could not. Yet, why be so alarmed, why should this single question so agitate her? In the deepest recesses of her being she knew that it was her unerring instinct warning her that she was about to hear something that would entail worse suffering than any she had yet endured.

"Yes—yes—why do you ask?" she gasped.

"You all thought the brother dead."

"Yes."

"You were mistaken. He is alive."

"Where is he?" she faltered.

"Here in New York."

"Where?"

"In your house. The man who returned home was not your husband. He was your husband's twin brother."

She looked at him as one bewildered, as if she did not understand what he was saying, as if words had suddenly lost their meaning. Her face, white as in death, she faltered:

"Not Kenneth—then where is Kenneth?"

"He is dead!"

Her powers of speech paralyzed, her large eyes starting from their sockets from terror, an expression of mute helpless agony on her beautiful face, she looked up at him with horror. Not yet could she fully grasp the meaning of his words. At last the frightful spell was broken. With an effort the words came:

"Then you," she cried. "You are his assassin!"

He shook his head as he replied carelessly:

"No—not I—his brother!"

She gave a cry of anguish and, starting to her feet, made a movement forward, her hands clutching convulsively at her throat. Air! air! She must have air. She felt sick and dizzy. The room was spinning round like a top, and then everything grew dark. Lurching heavily forward she would have fallen had he not caught her.

Instantly she shrank from the contact as from something unclean, and with a low moan sank down on a chair and buried her face in her hands. Her instinct had told her true. Her loved one was dead, she would never see him again, and that man who had come into the sanctity of her home and fondled her in his arms was his murderer. Oh, it was too horrible!

The bitter, cynical smile was still on Keralio's lips as he went on:

"You see the folly of resisting me. Had you surrendered at that time all might have been well. The price was not too much to pay. I would have been discreet. No one but ourselves would have known that you and I were——"

He did not complete the sentence, for at that moment she sprang forward like an enraged tiger cat, and, seizing a cane that stood close by, struck him across the face with all the force of her outraged womanhood.

"Murderer! Assassin!" she cried indignantly. "How dare you talk like that to me? I will denounce you to the whole world. I will not rest till I see you and that other scoundrel punished and my poor husband is avenged. On leaving here I shall go direct to the police."

Imbued with strength she never dreamed she possessed, she was about to hit him again when he seized the cane and threw it away. But across his pale, handsome face lay a telltale red mark, the smart of which burned into his soul.

His eyes flashed with anger and he made a visible effort to control himself. He took a step forward and, as he advanced she saw an expression in his face which prompted her to retreat precipitately. It was a dangerous look, the look of a man who knew he had a helpless woman in his power, a man who was desperate and would stop at nothing to encompass his ends. Now thoroughly frightened, she looked around for some way to escape. The windows were impossible, the only way was by the door and he barred the way. Besides, she would never go without her child.

He noticed the movement and look of alarm, and he smiled. Continuing to advance, he said:

"There's no use making a fuss. No one could hear you if you shouted for help till the crack of doom. You are alone with me—and absolutely in my power. Do as I ask and there is nothing you shall not have. Refuse, and I answer for nothing. Come——"

Her whole body trembling, her face white with terror, she kept on retreating:

"Leave me alone!" she gasped, "or I will scream."

"Scream away," he laughed. "There's no one here to hear you."

Suddenly he made a quick lunge forward and seized her. She struggled and resisted with all the energy born of despair, pushing, twisting, scratching. But they were too unevenly matched. She was like an infant in the grasp of an Hercules. Slowly, she felt her strength leaving her. His iron grasp gradually closed on her, nearer and nearer he drew her into his embrace.

With a last, superhuman effort, she managed to wrench herself free, out of his grip, and breaking completely away, she fled into the next room. But he was after her in a minute and again seized her, but not before she screamed at the top of her voice:

"Help! Help! Kenneth! Wilbur! Help! Help!"

He tried to gag her mouth to stifle her cries, but it was too late. His quick ear caught the sound of approaching footsteps in the outside hall. Almost at the same instant there was a loud knocking at the door.

Keralio fell back, his face white and tense. Had his plans failed at the eleventh hour, could anyone have played him false? If the game was up, they should never take him alive. Leaving Helen, he drew a revolver, and, going quickly into the inner hall, he waited in grim silence for the visitors to force an entrance.

"Open the door, or we'll break it in!" shouted a stern voice outside. "There's no use resisting. The place is surrounded."

Still no answer. Keralio stood grimly in the shadow of the parlor doorway, revolver in hand, while Helen cowered in the inner room, in momentary expectation of a tragedy.

Crash! The front door fell in, shattered into a thousand splinters, and through the breach thus made rushed Wilbur Steell, Dick Reynolds, and half a score husky Central Office detectives, revolvers in hand.

"There is he!" cried the lawyer, pointing to Keralio.

Quick as a flash, the Italian raised the revolver and fired, the bullet entering the plastered wall an inch away from the lawyer's head. Almost simultaneously, another pistol shot rang out, but this time the aim was truer, for, with a cry of baffled rage, Keralio threw his arms above his head and fell to the floor dead. Quickly, one of the detectives stooped down and compared his face with a photograph he had taken from his pocket.

"Yes——" he exclaimed; "that's the fellow—well known counterfeiter. Did time in San Quentin and Joliet. Known as Baron Rapp, Richard Barton and a dozen other aliases. He's one of the slickest rogues in the country. We've got the valet safe downstairs. I guess he'll get twenty years."

But Steell had not waited to hear about Keralio. There were others more important to think about. Rushing into the inner room, he found Helen prostrate, half fainting from fright.

"Thank God, I'm in time!" he exclaimed.

"Dorothy," she murmured weakly. "Save Dorothy! She's somewhere here."

Going into another room, the lawyer found the little girl fast asleep on a bed. Bringing her to her mother, he said tenderly:

"Here's your treasure. Now you can be happy."

She shook her head. The nightmare of what Keralio had told her, still obsessed her.

"No—" she shuddered; "—never again. They have killed him!"

To her surprise, the lawyer, instead of sharing her sorrow, actually smiled.

"Helen," he said; "I have a great surprise for you. A friend has accompanied me here. He called at your house to-day, but you had just left, so he called on me. You have not seen him since he sailed away three months ago on the Mauretania."

She listened bewildered. Her color came and went. What did he mean? Could it be possible that—no, had not Keralio said he was dead? Trembling with suppressed emotion, she whispered:

"Tell me—what is it—tell me——"

For all reply, the lawyer went to the door and beckoned to someone who had waited in the outer hall. A moment later a man entered, a tall, well set figure that was strangely familiar. Straining her eyes through her tears, it seemed to her that her mind must be playing her some trick, for there before her, stood Kenneth, not the impostor her instinct had warned her to detest and avoid, but the real Kenneth she had loved, the father of her child. With a joyous exclamation, she tottered forward.

"Kenneth!" she cried.

The man, his athletic form broken by sobs, opened his arms.

"My own precious darling!"

A moment later they were clasped in each other's arms. Ah, now she knew that he had come home! This, indeed, was the husband she loved. There was no deception this time. Wonderingly, she turned to Steell.

"How did it happen?" she asked wonderingly.

"We'll tell you later—not now," he replied.

She shuddered as she asked in a low voice.

"But where is his brother?"

"Dead! He shot himself at the club. Kenneth and I went to confront him at the club before coming here. It was his only way out."

The detective stepped forward. Addressing the lawyer and holding out two enormous diamonds that sparkled like fire in the sunlight, he said:

"We've just found these, together with a lot of counterfeit money."

The lawyer laughed as he took charge of the diamonds.

"It'll please Mr. Parker to see these. Come, Dick. Our work is done."

Kenneth put his arms around his wife.

"Safe in port at last, dear."

"You'll never go away again," she murmured through her tears.

THE END