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"Beg pardon, sir. But you are wanted on the telephone, sir." "All right, Hoskins. Connect it with the library instrument." Van Cleft lifted the receiver nervously, and answered in an unsteady voice. "Yes This is Van Cleft's residence." Silence for a bit, then the wire was busy. "What's that? Captain Cronin? What about him? Let me speak to him." Shirley was alert as a cat.
All this seemed naturally the accompaniment of the embarkment of Van Cleft's yachting cruise, but the sleeping longshoreman suddenly arose to his feet and blew a shrill police whistle. Next instant the flash of his pocket-lamp illumined the dark boat below him. A volley of curses greeted this untoward action! A revolver barked from the hand of a big man in the stern.
Certain unbidden, foolish words strove to liberate themselves from his stubborn lips. "I am a consummate idiot!" was all that escaped, and Helene looked her surprise. "Why, have you made a mistake?" "I hope not. But tell me of Warren's mistake." She had been waiting what seemed an eternity before Van Cleft's house, when a big machine drew up alongside.
The movement brought her head up, and her wandering eyes, roving in morose inspection, turned to the cleft's opening. Courant was standing there, watching her. His hands hung loose at his sides, his head was drooped forward, his chin lowered toward his throat. The position lent to his gaze a suggestion of animal ruminance and concentration. "Why don't you get David to do that?" he said slowly.
"Why, what are you doing here?" It was little Dolly Marion, Van Cleft's companion on the fatal automobile ride. She trembled: the glass fell to the floor with a tinkly crash. Shirley smiled indulgently. Taylor and Warren exchanged looks, but Monty knew that they must by this time be aware of his command to the girl to abstain from gay associations.
Cronin had disappeared as effectually as though he had taken a passing Zeppelin! "I'm glad this affair will not bore me," murmured the criminologist, as he evolved and promptly discarded a dozen vain theories to explain the disappearance of his companion. Twenty minutes were wasted along the block, as he waited for some sight or sign. Then he decided to go on up to Van Cleft's residence.
"And sure, Monty, when I have a free foot once again, I'm going to apply it to them gangsters who put me to sleep." "Just what I want you to do, Captain! I 'phoned to your men this morning while I had breakfast at the club: they have that taxicab which was left near Van Cleft's house. It's put away safely, Cleary said.
Sure then, come into the reception room on the right. What's that in your grip?" asked the apparent leader of the men. "Just an idea of Van Cleft's," said Shirley, as he followed into the adjoining compartment. "It's a phonograph. Have you received any phoney 'phone calls to-night? Queer ones that you didn't expect and couldn't explain?
The man before the screen shook his head in helpless bewilderment There was a suggestion of fright in his manner, as well. "Can't find out a t'ing, gov'nor. I hopes you don't blame me for dis. I'm doin' my share. Dey just disappears dat night w'en you sends 'em to shadder Van Cleft's joint. My calcerlation is " "I'm not paying you to calculate.
Shirley put his hand on Van Cleft's shoulder, with an inspiring firmness. "Tell me how I can help. You've had a big shock. Confide in me, and I pledge you my word, I'll keep it safer than any one you could go to." Van Cleft groped as a drowning man, at this opportunity. He caught Shirley's hand and wrung it tensely. "Sit down. The doctor is still upstairs with mother and sister.
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