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Still, this circumstance had its advantages for him; with his dark topcoat buttoned to the throat and its collar turned up to hide his linen, he was confident he would not be detected unless he gave his presence away by an abrupt movement something which the Lone Wolf never made. At the moment Mr. Blensop seemed to be engaged in the surprising occupation of discoursing upon art to his caller.

Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to mouse around and see if I can nose out anything else that's useful." "That shall be entirely as you will. Now, Blensop" Stanistreet nodded to the secretary "let us make certain...." "Yes, sir." Blithely Mr. Blensop addressed himself to the safe. "There has been an accident of some sort, Colonel Stanistreet?"

"Howson is the wounded night watchman, I take it, Mr. Blensop?" "Yes an excellent fellow.... Schuyler nine, three hundred," Blensop cooed into the transmitter. Conceivably that ostensible discomfiture whose symptoms Lanyard had remarked had been a transitory humour. Mr. Blensop was now in what seemed the most equable and blithe of tempers.

"Well, I'm kind of stuck on pressing the button myself," Stone confessed, adjusting the focus. "But if you want to work that flashlight, I don't mind." "Delighted," Mr. Blensop asserted. "How does it go, now?" "Like this." Stone set his camera down to demonstrate. "Now just stand behind me," he concluded, "and pull the trigger when I say 'now'." "I'll do my best, but I say will it bang?"

Crane of the United States Secret Service, and a countrywoman of yours, a Miss Cecelia Brooke, whose acquaintance I was fortunate enough to make." Stanistreet nodded heavily, and consulted his watch. "Miss Brooke," he said, "should be here shortly. Blensop made an appointment with her last night, which I confirmed by telephone this morning."

When the tumult of his senses subsided he heard Blensop saying, "I'll write it out for you," and saw him pick up a pad and pencil and jot down a memorandum. "There you are," he added, ripping off the sheet and passing it across the table. "Now you can't go wrong." "I precious seldom do," his caller commented drily.

But he reckoned without Blensop's avarice, there; he showed Blensop too plainly the way to profit through betraying both parties to a bargain; Blensop saw no reason why he should not play the game that Ekstrom played. So he stole it for himself, to sell to Germany, but being a poor, witless fool, lacking Ekstrom's dash and audacity, was foredoomed to failure and exposure."

Blensop in the neatest of one-button morning-coat effects, with striped trouserings neither too smart nor too sober for that state of life unto which it had pleased God to call him, and fair white spats. If his attire was radiant, so was the temper of the secretary sunny.

Blensop; which was very foolish of him, since it made a distinct impression on the under sheet. So you see my magic is rather colourless, after all.... Now, a wiser man, Mr. Blensop, would have used a pen, a fountain pen by preference, with a soft gold nib, well broken. That would leave no impression.

But the interior arrangement was disconcertingly simple. Lanyard saw no sign of waste space in which such a drawer might be secreted. Unless, to be sure, one of the pigeonholes had a false back.... He began a fresh examination, again emptying each pigeonhole and sounding its rear wall without result till there remained only that in which Blensop had placed the Arden jewels.