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Updated: May 24, 2025
Moreover, Steingall quite emphatically ordered Carshaw to remain on the wharf while he and others went on board. "You want to strangle Voles, if possible," he said. "From what I've heard of him he would meet the attempt squarely, and you two might do each other serious injury. I simply refuse to permit any such thing. You have a much more pleasant task awaiting you when you meet the young lady.
Clancy, I am tortured. Why have you brought me here?" "To stop you from playing Meiklejohn's game. I hear that you camp outside his apartment-house. You and I are going back to New York this very day, and the Bureau will soon find your Winifred. By the way, how did you happen onto the Senator's connection with the affair?" Taking hope, Carshaw told his story.
The house seemed abandoned. Winifred was gone! Even a friendly patrolman took pity on his drawn face and drew near. "No use, sir!" he confided. "They've skipped. But don't let on I told you. Call up the Detective Bureau!" "Busy, Mr. Carshaw?" inquired some one when an impatient young man got in touch with Mulberry Street after an exasperating delay.
Carshaw visited Helen Tower. She was fluttered. By note he had asked for a tête-
"Sit there!" he said authoritatively, and they sat there, Carshaw trying to take an interest in a "drunk" who was brought in, and Fowle alternately feeling the sore lump at the back of his head and the sorer cartilage of his nose. After waiting half an hour Carshaw protested, but the sergeant assured him that "a man from the Bureau" was en route and would appear presently. At last Clancy came in.
He saw red. A second shot, followed by a wilder shriek, spat lead somewhere in the bonnet. Carshaw set his teeth, gave the engine every ounce of power, and the two chariots of steel went raging, reckless of consequences, along the road.
Go to-day." Voles raised his shaggy eyebrows. "What's the rush?" he said amusedly. "After eighteen years " "Will you never learn reason? Every hour, every minute, may bring disaster." "Oh, have it your way! I'll fix Carshaw if he camps on my trail a second time." Meiklejohn returned to his car with a care-seamed brow. He was bound now for Mrs. Carshaw's apartment.
The scribe regretted the suggested disappearance from the game of "one of the best Number Ones" he had ever seen. The Long Island estate was let already, and Mrs. Carshaw would leave her expensive flat when the lease expired. Early next day he was greeted by Clancy. "Glad to see you, Mr. Carshaw," said the little man. "Been here before? No? Charming town.
He was rather silent as he trudged with Carshaw and the others back to the train, however. He was asking himself what new gibe Clancy would spring on him when the story of the night's fiasco came out. Somewhat tired, having ridden that day to Poughkeepsie and back, Petch, nevertheless, put up a great race after the fleeing motor-car.
Tower's drawing-room. There were several tables surrounded with people of various American and foreign types playing bridge. The whole atmosphere was that of Mammon; one might have fancied oneself in the halls of a Florentine money-changer. At the same table with Carshaw were Mrs. Tower, another society dame, and Senator Meiklejohn, who ought to have been making laws at Washington.
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