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Updated: June 12, 2025
Here was the policeman on the beat one of those creatures of Penfield's vaunted vest-pocket crew invited in for a bite and sup by the steward of the house. The steward called away, he had drifted naturally into a gentle nap. And now "Glad I'm not in his shoes!" mused P. Sybarite. And yet.... Urgent second thought changed the tenor of his temper toward the sleeper.
Of course, he had been disturbed by Penfield's revelations and innuendoes. No one who took an interest in Miss Oldham could fail to be so. Nevertheless, Penfield's statements should always be thoroughly discounted. That was understood. Robert mechanically lighted another cigarette, still deep in thought. Penfield had spoken of the Oldham family fortunes.
And what was far more puzzling, why had she begged him not to show the photographs of the mine upon Penfield's request? Was it that she did not wish one of his guests to know too much about the matter? If so, which one? And how did she know anything about his connection with the mine, anyway?
And you've got about a quarter of a million of Penfield's securities on you so I thought I'd kind o' keep an eye on you this time!" Her first impulse was to throw herself headlong from the cab door. But this, she warned herself, would be both useless and dangerous.
"But what's all this to us, now?" "They were smuggled to New Jersey. There the Jersey City chief of police took action, and this agent of Penfield's carried the documents across the North River and up to Stamford. From there he got back to New York again, by night, where he met a second agent, who had secured passage on the Slavonia for Naples. The first man is MacNutt."
Sybarite.... But before we lose our tempers, what do you say to a fair proposition: leave me what you have won to-night, and I'll pay it back to the last cent with interest in less than six months." P. Sybarite shook his head: "I'm sorry." The dark blood surged into Penfield's cheeks. "You won't accept my word ?"
Ford was pessimistic again. Miss Adair looked about her despairingly for some means of prolonging the whispered confidence. Penfield, deferentially in the rear of the platform group, was never safely out of earshot. "I want to see the engine that so nearly plunged us into a collision last night," she said aloud; and Penfield's visible ear betrayed the listening mind. Ford took his cue promptly.
"Then I'll meet you at Penfield's house, uptown, and the show will come to a finish!" "And what am I expected to do?" demanded Keenan, impatiently. For the approaching four-wheeler had come to a standstill beside them, and MacNutt was already out in the rain. "You take care o' that!" he pointed a contemptuous finger toward the motionless woman, "and mighty good care!"
The policeman stood, cap in hand, while being sworn by the morgue master, and then took his place on the platform in the chair reserved for the witnesses. His answer to Coroner Penfield's questions relative to his name, residence in Washington, and length of service in the city Police Force were given with brevity and a rich Irish brogue.
Here was a fresh field for Penfield's inevitable investigations, and Hayden's disclosures of his private affairs, deeply as they interested him, could wait a bit. Horace was patient by nature and training.
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