An unexpected trip in the motor had delayed Atherton's departure for town, and it was after nine o'clock when he ran quickly up the stairs which led to Blagden's room, confidently expecting to find Bellingham there before him. The morning had dawned, revealing no trace of the secretary, and Atherton had taken advantage of an errand in the village to telephone Blagden to be on the lookout for the fugitive in the neighborhood of eight o'clock. But now, to his disappointment, he entered the room to find Blagden and Mills alone, Blagden lying on the couch, eyes half closed, pipe in mouth, Mills sprawling in the easy chair, extracting minor chords of unspeakable melancholy from Blagden's guitar. Both were clearly bored, and glad of a chance to vent their indignation upon Atherton.
"You're an idiot of a fellow," observed Blagden. "Where's this friend of yours? We've been here since seven o'clock."
"Yes," added Mills. "Hurried our dinner, too. Worst thing in the world for a man. We thought from your telephoning that it must be important."
Atherton, weary from loss of sleep, dropped into a chair. "Well, I imagine it is important," he rejoined. "He'll be here, I'm sure. Unless--" he added thoughtfully, "something may have happened to him. I shouldn't be greatly surprised if that was the trouble. But you fellows needn't make such a row about it. It hasn't done you any harm. We were supposed to meet to-night anyway."
Mills laid aside the guitar. "That's right," he assented, "this was to be the experience meeting. And as you are the originator of the whole thing, Blagden, you'd better begin. How did you get along with the lovely lady? Was it a real adventure?"
Blagden puffed thoughtfully at his pipe. "Yes," he at length replied, "It surely was. The lovely lady is interested in stocks and she has a--what is the technical word in such cases--friend, isn't it? Gentleman friend? Yes, that's it. She has a gentleman friend who gives her tips on the market and--" he paused dramatically--"whose tips are always right. She never loses, andalwayswins."
Both of his hearers laughed. "You mentioned the 'Arabian Nights' that evening in the café," scoffed Mills. And Atherton added, "That's just like a woman. Why did she pick out the one impossible story in the world? Anything else I'd have believed, out of compliment to her good looks. But a friend who beats the stock market. Never. That's incredible."
"Yes," Blagden admitted, "on general principles, I'd agree with you. And yet I must say that her story was most convincing. I saw the house where she lives; saw the tickers, large as life, installed by her friend; saw her very dainty little account book, with its record of six months' trading in cotton, grain and stocks, and with every transaction showing its profit--a clean slate."
There followed silence. Then Atherton asked, still unbelievingly, "But why does she confide in you? If she's got such a good thing--the tips, I mean, not the gentleman friend--why isn't she satisfied? Why does she tellyouher troubles?"
Mills laughed. "It's his personal charm," he volunteered. "He always scores with the ladies. They'll tell him anything."
"Oh, shut up, Tubby," Blagden retorted, "this is a serious matter." And then to Atherton, "The answer is as old as the time of Bluebeard, as old as Eve and the serpent. Curiosity, that is the trouble with my charming friend. It seems that she's not satisfied merely to make money; it's the secret of making it she's after. And her benefactor won't tell it to her. He lets her play with the market as a child would play with a toy, and that's all."
"But how does she know," queried Mills, "that there is any secret? It may be nothing but luck."
"Yes, that's possible," admitted Blagden, "but according to our experience, it's very unlikely. No man's luck would hold in all three markets for six months without a break. Besides, she's intelligent enough, and she's convinced that he plays on a regular system. Her theory is that there's some kind of inside manipulation by which stocks are put up at certain hours of the day and put down at others; frequently, she says, he consults his watch before making a trade. Rather an ingenious idea."
"Humph," ejaculated Mills, "I should say it was. Sounds pretty reasonable to me. First time I ever heard of it."
"Well," demurred Blagden, "it's barely possible, but I doubt it. In fact, I don't take the whole story very seriously. And yet--it's curious. But in any event, I fear I didn't help her much. If there is a secret, it's not an easy one to solve."
He was silent. "Anything else?" asked Atherton, after a pause.
"No," Blagden answered, "that's the whole story. And now you fellows can tell your troubles. How about you, Tubby? Any adventure?"
Mills chuckled at the remembrance. "Oh, rather," he replied. "I too met a lady, only she wasn't quite in a class with yours. She was a pretty little minx, though, at that, and after she had decoyed me to her home with a most pathetic story, she and her running mate, a most villainous looking individual named Stoat, tried to hold me up with the old badger game."
"Good Lord!" cried Blagden, "That wasn't any joke, Tubby. It may be an old game, but it's as dangerous as it ever was. Weren't you scared?"
"Sure was," admitted Mills. "Couldn't have been scareder, but Nature having blessed me with a placid exterior, I managed to get by without their knowing it. And finally we wound up by becoming great pals; I never made such a hit in my life. In fact, good old Stoat, who appears to be quite a noted criminal, offered me a partnership on the spot. As near as I could make it out, he was drawn to me by my appearance of respectability. It sounds conceited of me to repeat it, but he assured me that with the proper training, I had all the qualifications for a most successful criminal."
Atherton laughed. "Some compliment," he commented dryly, but Blagden heard the news with perfect seriousness. "I believe he was right, Tubby," he cried. "If he seemed to be a pretty smooth proposition, why don't you go in with him? We might get hold of something big, and without any risk to it, either."
"Oh, thanks," retorted Mills with unwonted asperity, "why don't you try it yourself? I'll introduce you with pleasure. But none of the Jesse James stuff for me, please. Jails and electric chairs never appealed to me in the least."
Blagden grinned. "Oh, I haven't your peculiar beauty of face and form," he rejoined. "I'm sure I wouldn't suit your friend. You're missing a great chance, Tubby; you'd better reconsider."
"Not on your life," answered Mills with conviction, "but if you ever require the services of a first-class robber, second-story man and I dare say murderer, why he kindly gave me his name and address, and I shall be delighted to bring two such congenial spirits together."
"All right; I'll remember it," said Blagden. Then, turning to Atherton, he asked, "How about you? Anything doing?"
Atherton smiled. "Why," he responded apologetically, "after all this spotlight melodrama of yours and Tubby's, I'm afraid my experience will sound pretty tame. In fact, when you learn the truth, you may expel me from the United Order of Gentlemen Adventurers. It's a shameful confession, but I'm working for my living. I am--" he paused a moment properly to emphasize the announcement--"a chauffeur."
Both his hearers shouted with laughter. "Oh, fine!" cried Blagden, "that's the best yet. Go on. Give us the details. I'll bet it's a lady you're working for. Some rich old spinster, I hope. She might adopt you."
"No," Atherton answered, "no lady in this at all. But I'm working for a man you may have heard of. His name is Marshall Hamilton."
His hearers suddenly sobered. "The deuce!" cried Mills, and Blagden added, "Well, there's a chance to get some real tips on the market. Perhaps you have some already."
"No, no such luck," responded Atherton, "but I have come across something curious connected with the stock market. Mr. Hamilton has a secretary named Bellingham, a very decent chap indeed--he's the one I telephoned you about this morning. Now Bellingham, it appears, is a chart fiend, or something of that sort; he has the tape sent to him and works at it nights, puzzling out some sort of a system of his own. But the singular thing is that he's been mortally afraid of being detected; we got chummy the first night I met him, and he told me all his fears, and asked me for some safe address where he might go if he had to leave on the jump. And last night the very thing happened that he'd been dreading; some one was spying on him; I got wind of it and let him know, and advised him to come here to-night. So with the dawning of the morning, friend Bellingham had disappeared, and that is why I expect him here."
There was a moment's silence. Then Blagden cried, triumphantly, "Didn't I tell you fellows the truth? Didn't I say that we were stagnating over the tickers when there was plenty of adventure left in the world if we only had enterprise enough to go out and look for it? And just see what we've discovered in the first few days."
"Yes, that's true," agreed Atherton. "We'll give you credit for that. But don't forget that there's something else you haven't proved to us. You claimed that somehow or other we were going to be able to combine our experiences to our mutual advantage, and I can't quite see how we're going to do it. You have made the acquaintance of a lady who knows how to beat the stock market; Mills knows an expert criminal; and I am driving a car. But how is all this going to make us rich? Explain that to us, Blagden."
"Oh, well," Blagden retorted, "what do you expect? That fortunes are made over night? Of course not. Give us a chance. We'll accumulate more knowledge as we go along, and presently we'll strike a winning combination. Just consider what's happened to us already. Why, if we can keep up this gait, we'll need a card catalogue to keep track of our adventures. You're unreasonable, Atherton; we've made a start, and that's the principal thing."
As he finished speaking, the bell, as if to punctuate his words, rang sharply. Atherton leaped to his feet. "Bellingham," he cried, and strode hastily to the tube. "Who is it?" he asked, and as he had expected, the answer came back in low but hurried tones. "It's I; Bellingham. Let me in, Atherton, quick!"
Atherton pressed the button, threw open the door, and an instant later there came the sound of rapid footsteps on the stairs, and Bellingham came into the room, pausing on the threshold to close and lock the door behind him, as though fearing pursuit. The secretary's appearance had changed greatly for the worse. His face was pale; dark circles ringed his eyes, and acknowledging Atherton's introductions to the others with a nod, he sank heavily into a chair with the air of a man thoroughly exhausted and spent. Blagden eyed him keenly for a moment, then rose, walked over to the sideboard, poured some brandy into a glass, and handed it to him. Bellingham drained the glass, and almost immediately the red began to creep back into his cheeks. "Thanks," he said, "that's better," and turning to Atherton he added, "I've had an awful day. I've been shadowed; I'm sure of it. But I managed to give them the slip about an hour ago. I wanted to see you before I leave."
Atherton did not know how to interpret his words. "Before you leave?" he echoed. "Have you made up your mind to that?"
"Yes," Bellingham answered, "it's the only thing I can do. I've taken a risk. I've played for big stakes--and lost. If I stay here, I won't live another twenty-four hours. I've booked passage for South America; the steamer sails at seven o'clock to-morrow morning; and I shan't feel easy until I've gone aboard to-night and locked my stateroom door behind me. Then I believe I have a chance. But if I do get away safely, I owe my life to you, and I wanted to see you and tell you so."
"But you shouldn't have risked it," cried Atherton. "It wasn't worth while. I don't deserve any thanks, anyway; I acted on the impulse of the moment; that was all."
Bellingham gazed at him abstractedly, as if scarcely heeding his words. "Time is short," he said, "and I've a good deal to say. We've got to think quick." Then, with a glance at Mills and Blagden, he added, "I understand that you three fellows have pooled your fortunes. What I say to one, I can say to all."
"That's correct," Atherton assented, and the secretary continued, "Then here's the story. By the merest accident, I've stumbled on a big secret, the biggest secret in the world. Financially speaking, you can't overestimate its importance. If a man can solve it, he can make all the money he wants--nothing can stop him. But if it becomes known that he has solved it, or if he is detected in the attempt, he might as well have written his own death warrant. I want to do the right thing by you fellows; if you care to have me do it, I'll tell you what I know. Or if, on the other hand, you don't feel like tempting fate, well and good; I dare say I'll only be doing you a bad turn by telling you. Take your choice; I leave it to you to decide."
Blagden, whose eyes had never left the secretary's face, was the first to speak. "We'll take a chance," he answered coolly. "Isn't that right, boys?"
"Sure thing," assented Mills, but Atherton did not immediately respond. Three days ago, he would not have hesitated, but his meeting with Helen Hamilton had made all matters connected with money assume a secondary place, and life itself, with so much to live for, now seemed a possession too precious to be risked. Yet it was difficult to take Bellingham's words seriously; he must be exaggerating. And finally curiosity turned the scale, and he answered briefly, "All right; go ahead."
Bellingham leaned forward in his chair, his eyes bright, the liquor loosening his tongue. "Then here is the story," he cried. "For years, every one has claimed that the stock market is an unbeatable game. Man after man tries it; goes into it sanguine, confident; and emerges broken in purse and spirit. Isn't that so?"
There was a murmur of assent. "And why it is so," went on Bellingham, "is a mystery. You can't say that all men are fools. They're not. Men play the stock market who have succeeded brilliantly in other lines--men who have never made a failure in their lives--but the stock market beats them as it beats any novice. I think you'll bear me out in that."
Again his hearers signified assent, and Bellingham, lowering his voice, continued, "Then what is the answer? All my life I've lived in the atmosphere of the Exchange; all my life I've heard the legends and the rumors that surround it; but never, until three days ago, have I even suspected the truth. There's no need for me to tell you how I came by this knowledge; it's enough for me to say that a paper, accidentally discovered, has so filled the gaps in what I knew before that now I can make something more than a guess at the real mystery of the Stock Exchange. And this is what I know. Forty years ago, four men--the wealthiest, ablest and shrewdest men of their day--met together and founded the most wonderful secret order in the world. This was their plan--to form and perfect an organization so powerful that by means of it they could govern the course of the stock market--could actually raise or lower prices as they chose."
Blagden, who had been listening with constantly increasing attention, now broke in, more to himself than to the others, "Just what I said. Combination; cooperation; it's the only way."
Bellingham turned to him. "Exactly!" he cried. "And what was the first requisite for their plan? Money, of course; money unlimited; not money as we understand it, in hundreds and thousands, but money in millions, in tens of millions, in billions. And that is what these four men, with their resources and connections, were able to achieve. They labored until they had ready at their command what was practically an inexhaustible reservoir of gold. That was the first step. The next was to perfect the army of men who were to carry on this financial war. At its head were seven commanders-in-chief, the four I have mentioned, and besides them one in England and two on the Continent. These were the true insiders, the sole possessors of the secret, sworn by the most solemn of oaths to guard it from all the world excepting themselves and their successors in office. They were the leaders, but under them were colonels and captains and privates in the ranks, each man of proved ability, and each with his special duty to perform. And thus, fully equipped with men and munitions, they were ready to take the field."
Mills had been gazing at him, wide-eyed, absorbed in the secretary's story. Now he could contain himself no longer. "I don't care much," he cried, "for your comparison. You keep talking about a war. I should call it a slaughter. With most of the money in the world behind you, how can you help but lick the other fellow. War! Do you talk about a war between a boa-constrictor and a rabbit?"
"You're right," assented the secretary. "Quite right. And I'll drop figures of speech altogether. When these men had everything in readiness, then began the cold-blooded, systematic despoiling of the people. For one thing, they had--and have--the finest publicity department in the world. The heads of it know all the weaknesses of human nature, know every detail of the psychology of the so-called average man. They know how to arouse his interest in the market, how to whet his appetite for speculation, how to get him to invest his money, and most important of all, once he has taken sides as a bear or a bull, they know how to publish the forecasts and the information that will make him stick to his position until they have extracted the last cent of the last dollar that he can afford to lose. That is what the publicity department can do, and aiding and abetting them at all times are the sleek and smiling brokers--financial courtezans--genial, jovial men, bidding you welcome to the warmth and light and luxury of their offices; joking with you, advising you, humoring your wild ideas and your crazy theories of speculation, gathering their commissions as their pay and knowing, in the bottom of what they call their hearts, that once you are in their clutches, you won't escape while you have a penny to your name. That is your average broker--a licensed thief, a man of ill-fame, a speculative prostitute."
There followed momentary silence. Then Atherton remarked, "I don't doubt the truth of what you say. But admitting that it's so, still you haven't shown us why a man can't sometimes win."
"But I have!" cried Bellingham, "or if I haven't, it's because I haven't made myself clear. Don't you understand? It's nothing more nor less than highway robbery. The insiders play against the public; the insiders with their eyes open, the public blindfolded. Or, to vary the figure, the insiders hold their cards in their hands, while the public lay theirs face up on the table. There's only one result. It's open and shut--cut and dried. Why, at any moment of the day these men have access to the books of any bank or any broker's office in America; they can tell, at a second's notice, just what proportion of the public is long of stocks and just what proportion is short. They know the name and trade and record of every speculator in the market; they know his resources, his commitments; and if they wish to 'get' a man, it is just like some millionaire strolling down with a net to his private fishpond, and picking out some particularly plump fish for his dinner. As a matter of fact, mighty few individuals are successful enough so that it is worth while to go after them, but if the insiders decide to do it, why--snap--and it's all over; not even a ripple comes to the surface. And if it's a pool they decide to swallow--some combination of foolish millionaires who have grown suddenly rich--then it becomes a very pretty game, like shooting or fishing or bull-fighting or any other so-called sport where the odds are all one way. It takes a little longer--the death struggle is more drawn out--sometimes a bubble or two does come to the surface--but the result is always the same. You must see it now; I'm sure you do. It is the absolute quintessence of simplicity."
Atherton sat silent for a moment; then, as the true significance of the secretary's story dawned upon him, he murmured to himself, slowly and with infinite meaning, "Well, byHeck!"
Bellingham glanced at his watch; then drew from his pocket a packet of papers and a sealed envelope, and handed them to Atherton. "I can't stay much longer," he said, "but here is the proof of my story; the papers are the results of my experiments; the envelope contains the holy of holies, the key to the whole mystery. I can give you the gist of the matter now. The greatest achievement in their whole wonderful system is their method of communicating their plans. You can see how necessary it must be; they are dealing with a hysterical public, who in time of panic follow each other like sheep. Therefore, when some unexpected event occurs--the Northern Pacific corner, war, disaster of any kind--if these men cannot consult together almost instantly, they may face ruin, even for individuals as powerful as themselves. How then will they communicate? By cable? Telegraph? Telephone? Too cumbersome. Too many people to handle the messages. Simpler far a code, a cipher, so that what appears to be an ordinary transaction recorded on the tape becomes in reality a piece of information that shapes the destiny of the market, and of the thousands who vainly seek to fathom the secret of its ups and downs. To issue these is the special duty of one man. I know that all this is true, and I fear that they suspect that I possess this knowledge. In any event, the game is too big for me; I would rather be a live dog than a dead lion."
He paused for a moment, but though the three faces bent on his were tense and rigid with excitement, no one spoke, and presently he continued, "But besides being their greatest strength, you can see how this wonderful system might be their greatest weakness as well. And when I say this, I refer to the possibility of the system's being discovered. Now the originators of this plan were men of intelligence and ability; they must have seen this danger, and the necessity of safeguarding their secret in every possible way. And they did so. But Fate is stronger than man, and through a trick of Fate they have been found out."
As he finished speaking, he rose from his seat. "I dare not stay longer," he said, "and for the sake of all three of you, I prefer not to go from this house directly into the street. Isn't there some way, Blagden, by which I could go along the roofs and down by some other exit?"
"Yes," Blagden agreed, "we can do that." And with a handshake the secretary took his leave of Mills and Atherton, and followed Blagden up the ladder, along the chimney tops, until an open skylight at the end of the block furnished them their opportunity, and at the foot of the stairs Bellingham, after carefully reconnoitering, made ready to depart.
"If it's necessary to see you again," whispered Blagden, "what is your boat, and when does she sail?"
"ThePernambuco," Bellingham answered. "She leaves at seven o'clock to-morrow morning. Good-by and good luck." And the next instant he had slipped out into the street, and had disappeared from sight.
Blagden returned as he had come, quickly remounting the stairs of the lodging house, ascending the ladder and crossing the roofs, and at length, with a feeling of relief, clambered down into his own dwelling, and re-entered his apartment, to find Mills and Atherton seated at the table, busily examining the documents which Bellingham had left behind him.
"Now then," said Blagden brusquely, "leave those papers alone a minute; there's time enough for them later. But here's the question to settle first. We've been listening to the damndest yarn I ever heard in my life. And what I want to know is this. Do you fellows believe it, or don't you?"
"I don't," Mills answered readily. "Not for a minute. Bellingham appeared to be a very decent chap, but I don't consider him sane. I think he's gone crazy over this thing. It's too tough a story to swallow."
Blagden smiled. "Tubby," he rejoined, "you were born a doubter. You may suffer from other faults, but your imagination will never be your ruin; I'm sure of that. What do you say, Atherton? Do you believe it?"
"Yes, I do," Atherton promptly rejoined. "You see, Tubby," he added, turning to Mills, "I've had the advantage of knowing Bellingham before he knew he was being watched, and he was as sane a man then as you would wish to see. Of course he's a nervous wreck now, but who wouldn't be? He must feel like a hare with the hounds after him. I hope he gets away all right."
"Oh, nonsense!" cried Mills unbelievingly, "he'll get away. I don't believe he's being followed at all."
"Well, I do," Atherton retorted. "You can bet that fellow who was after him was no ordinary detective, and if he had the enterprise to be climbing pine trees at two o'clock in the morning, to get the goods on Bellingham, I don't believe he's going to let him escape if he can help it. What's your opinion?" he asked of Blagden, who stood by the mantel piece, smoking furiously, his brow contracted as he pondered over the amazing story to which they had just been listening.
Blagden laid aside his pipe and began pacing up and down the room. "Frankly, Atherton," he confessed, "I'm puzzled. I'm half inclined to believe the whole thing is true; it would explain practically everything about the market which has perplexed us for so long. And yet it's such a romantic, impossible sort of a tale that I can't convince myself it's so; at least, not without further proof. But I'm sure of one thing; we ought to investigate with all the care in the world; it may be the opportunity of a lifetime. Can you make anything out of his figures?" And he motioned toward the papers on the table.
"Not a great deal," Atherton answered. "I should say he was still in the experimental stage; he's guessing at different theories, and then seeing how they fit the facts. But of course, unless you've got the whole code at your fingers' ends, you couldn't expect to follow the ups and downs of the tape intelligently. He has made a beginning; it remains for us to try to complete it."
"And what was the other paper he spoke of?" asked Blagden. "What did he call it? 'The holy of holies'?"
Atherton started to draw it from his pocket; then, with an apologetic half laugh, thrust it back again, walked to the door, and cautiously reconnoitered. But no one was in sight, and accordingly he rejoined his friends, again pulling the envelope from its resting place, while Mills and Blagden peered eagerly over his shoulder. The first envelope contained a second one; the second a third. "April fool," muttered Mills. "I told you he was crazy," but was suddenly silent as Atherton drew from the third envelope the paper, faded and yellow with age, which Bellingham had found in the vault, and with it a typewritten copy, explaining its contents as far as the secretary had been able to decipher them. No faintest sound disturbed the stillness of the room as they read, and as they finished, they remained motionless, staring at each other, with all trace of levity or disbelief gone suddenly from their faces. Then Mills, like a man awakening from a trance, slowly passed his hand across his forehead. "He couldn't have faked that paper," he murmured. "That's the real thing."
But the others scarcely heard him. "Then itistrue," said Atherton at length. "Everything we've heard and guessed at, but never honestly believed. There is a 'Money Trust,' thereisa 'System.' Good Lord, it's like a dream!"
"A nightmare," responded Blagden grimly. "No wonder we couldn't win. And now let's take our time, and go over it again. I should say that 'holy of holies' was right; I believe this scrap of paper is just about the most important document in the world."
Side by side, they seated themselves at the table, and word by word began their study of the cryptic talisman. Half way through Atherton called a halt. "So far, so good," he observed. "As Bellingham told us, it's the very height of simplicity. They feed the public with good news, bait them with bull tips, and then when a sufficient number have loaded up at the top, they break the market and incidentally break the fools who have been caught. Then begins the campaign of bad news--famine, pestilence and sudden death--then arrive the bear tips, and when all the longs have been driven out and a new crop of suckers have gone short at the bottom, then comes the accumulation by the Money Gods and up goes the market for them to sell on to the next crop of idiots who will never buy except at the very top, after stocks have advanced from ten to twenty points. But all that doesn't help us much, unless we can tell what is the bottom and what is the top. What we want to know is about these signals. Signals on the tape. What a wonderful scheme! When Bellingham found this paper, he must have felt as if he had happened upon a ton of dynamite."
"Dynamite," said Blagden, "is a very happy word. If we could prove the authenticity of this paper, we could just about blow this old country sky-high. We could close every stock exchange in America, and drive the Money Gods into exile for their health. Oh, 'dynamite' is too mild a word; this would be a higher explosive than that."
As he finished speaking, Atherton was conscious of a sudden chill of dismay. Rightly or wrongly, he had no desire to see harm befall Helen Hamilton's father, and was correspondingly relieved to hear Mills exclaim, "Yes, but we don't want to do anything like that. The only time to be reformers is when we've made all the money we can use. We want ours, Blagden, so for Heaven's sake don't think of blowing this thing until we've had a chance at it."
Blagden smiled at the stout man's earnestness. "Oh, don't worry," he reassured him. "I was only emphasizing the importance of the paper. You are quite right, Tubby; let the Money Gods live and wax fat. All we want is a few of the crumbs that fall from the master's table."
"Sure thing," Atherton assented with relief, "we're all agreed about that. And now let's examine the rest of the paper. The signals themselves; that's what interests us."
Once more they bent to their task. "On the watch," read Mills, "for these signals. Now what is the sense in that? Of course they would be on the watch for them. They would be fools not to."
But suddenly Blagden gave a cry of amazement, and his companions, gazing at him, saw his face go white, and then flush with crimson. He sprang to his feet. "I've got it," he exclaimed, half incoherent with excitement. "Don't you see?On the watch!It doesn't meanbeon the watch; it means the watch itself. It's the missing words that spoil the sense. It isn't a verb; it's a noun.Awatch. The watch a man carries in his pocket. That's where the key to the cipher is, and there couldn't be a better place. No one would suspect it, and it's always at hand. That's what the girl told me; don't you remember? Always looking at his watch, when she spied upon him by the tickers. She is right. Her friend is one of these men. Just think of it. No wonder she always won. And see what it means for us. Monte Cristo wasn't in it. We've got a fortune in our grasp."
He paused, his eyes gleaming, his whole face tense with excitement. Then, going over to the sideboard, he poured for himself an even stiffer drink than he had prepared for Bellingham, and hastily gulped it down. "I needed that," he said. "Some excitement to-night. This is probably the wildest day of our bright young lives."
Atherton had remained seated, still intent upon the paper before him. "Steady, Blagden," he objected. "You're jumping at conclusions. This may be all coincidence. But your theory is ingenious. And if youshouldbe right--"
He did not finish his sentence, letting his imagination dwell upon the possibilities of the future.
"If Ishouldbe right," echoed Blagden reproachfully. "Why Good Lord, man, of course I'm right. If Tubby had doubted me, I could have forgiven him, but you ought to have the vision to piece the thing together. Oh, God--" he flared forth again, "what a bully old world it is. Checkered, but never dull. Here we were, two days ago, busted like a flat tire, and now the lamp of Aladdin awaits our touch. And all--" he added suddenly, "because we coöperated. I'd forgotten that in the excitement. I guess I'm the original little coöperator, all right. Just think what's coming to us, boys. Steam yachts, motors, women--"
He smacked his lips, but Mills, the practical, now questioned, "Yes, but what about getting the watch of this eminent but erring financier? Are you going up to him to ask the time of day, and then will you grab it and run? What's he going to be doing? Naturally he's no spring chicken."
"Oh," Blagden answered with confidence, "that's merely matter of detail. Once we know who the man is, we'll get the watch. Just look at our advantage. We know what he's got, and he doesn't know that we know. That gives us the whip hand, right away. As a matter of fact, I dare say the lady could help us."
Mills brightened. "That's a good idea," he agreed. "Something like the panel game. I believe that would work."
"But there's one thing," suggested Atherton, "that we ought not to neglect. If Bellingham intends to leave the country, never to return, we ought to be sure that we have everything he knows. Let's go over these papers of his now, and make a list of anything we don't understand. We could see him in the morning and have a last word with him before he sails."
"You're right," Blagden cried, "but wait a minute first. There's something else I want to see about."
He disappeared into his bedroom, from whence they presently heard the tinkle of his telephone. Shortly he returned. "Now then," he said briskly, "luck is still with us. I rang up the girl, pretending that I wanted to see her to-morrow evening, and she told me that she was engaged and that I must be sure and not come to her house. That, of course, means only one thing. You, Atherton, meet me at Hillcrest Station to-morrow night at eight, and we'll do a little detective work. And you, Tubby, get up at five thirty to-morrow morning and go over to thePernambucowith a list of questions that we'll make out now. While everything is going our way, we'll lose no time."
For an hour or more they worked, and finally disbanded, Mills going to his room to set his alarm clock and then, his brain on fire with excitement, to toss restlessly about for the balance of the night, with a hundred wild dreams and visions disturbing his rest. With the first whirr of the alarm he was out of bed, and disposing of a cup of coffee and a roll, he sallied forth to obtain the final information from Bellingham. The good weather of the day before had vanished; the morning was thick and foggy, and as he neared the wharves Mills found himself inclined to shiver, half with the chill of the wind, half from the over-excitement of the preceding night. He found the vessel without trouble, a big, old-fashioned, somewhat dingy craft, and with an inquiry or two made his way readily enough to Bellingham's cabin. His knock, however, brought no answer, and after a moment's hesitation he tried the door, found it unfastened, and walked in. The secretary's bag lay open on the table, its contents tossed about in confusion, and the secretary himself lay in his bunk, sound asleep. "Tired out," thought Mills, and crossing the cabin, he extended his hand to awaken Bellingham, and in doing so inadvertently brushed with his fingers the cheek of the slumbering man. The flesh, to his touch, was cold as marble, and on the instant sudden dread gripped him by the throat as he nerved himself for the ordeal and slowly withdrew the bedclothes from Bellingham's face.
There followed a ghastly moment, and he found himself staggering back across the cabin, faint and sick with horror, and with blotches of crimson flashing and wheeling before his eyes. Then, by a mighty effort recovering his control, he made his way, like a man in a dream, on deck, back to the gang-plank, and thus to the shore, thanking Heaven for the pall of fog which still enshrouded land and sea. Like a criminal, he crept back to his lodgings, and like some hunted fugitive, he kept all day to his rooms, a great dread in his heart as he pondered on the craft and power of these unseen foes against whom he and his friends had dared to wage unequal war.
And thus the long day passed, dark and lowering, with occasional spurts of rain. But toward sunset the wind veered to the west, scattering the clouds across the sky, with gleams of sunshine filtering through the rifts, and by the time Atherton and Blagden met at the station, clear stars were shining overhead and a crescent moon gave promise of fair weather to come.
"Did you have any trouble getting away?" asked Blagden, as they tramped up the narrow and deserted road.
"No," Atherton answered, "things have been quiet all day, and to-night Mr. Hamilton was called to the city on business, and fortunately for me he decided to go by train, so there was nothing to detain me. But I don't mind telling you, Blagden," he added, "that I'm not a bit keen about this whole business. Eavesdropping isn't a pleasant task, at best, and if by any chance we should be caught, it would be a humiliating experience."
"No fear," Blagden answered. "There's a hedge around the house thick enough to hide a regiment. We'll creep into it, one each side of the path which leads to the house, and there's an electric light across the street that ought to make it easy enough to get a look at our man. Tracing him afterward may be a more difficult matter, but I don't think so. Naturally, he won't be suspicious, and that is a point in our favor. Here we are, now, right ahead. Just before we reach the drive, you duck into the hedge, and I'll walk by and then do the same on the other side. Between us, we'll get a glance at him, and follow him if we can."
Five minutes later, Atherton was comfortably ensconced in his hiding place, and had settled down to what proved to be a tiresome vigil. Ten o'clock came and went, half past ten, and then, at last, the sound of an opening door, a glimpse of a man and woman in the dimly lighted hall, a farewell embrace, the door closed and a man's figure came leisurely down the path.
Atherton, with beating heart, strained his eyes upon the spot where the man must pass. Now the footsteps came nearer, and nearer still; now the man's figure was plainly visible in the radiance of the light; and all at once Atherton was hardly able to repress a gasp of amazement and consternation. For the face of the man was one that he knew well. It was the face of Marshall Hamilton.
The atmosphere of Blagden's room was tense with uncertainty. A storm seemed imminent; danger signals filled the air. Blagden himself, the embodiment of nervous energy, paced continually to and fro; Atherton sat at the table, mechanically tracing aimless figures on the pad before him; while Mills, the taciturn and phlegmatic, instead of reclining, as usual, in the easy chair, sat bolt upright, balanced on its edge, his expression eloquent of anxiety.
The temporary silence was broken explosively. "Damnation, Atherton," cried Blagden, "can't you see that such a thing would never happen again in a million years. As a rule, I'm not religious, but I tell you this has made me believe that we're chosen as the instruments of Providence. I believe there's a 'system' in Heaven as well as on earth, and I believe that God Almighty has picked us out to break the power of the Money Gods for the rest of time."
Atherton smiled, a little wearily. "When Fate is on your side," he answered, "and you can see millions ahead of you, then it's an easy matter to believe in God."
"But who wouldn't," Blagden insisted. "Less than a week ago three penniless adventurers meet in a café, and go blindly forth to seek adventure. Each of them follows a separate strand of incident, which is apparently quite independent of the other two, until suddenly, like magic, the three strands meet and unite in one. Why, we have the whole story now. Even with what Bellingham told us, we knew almost enough, and what we saw last night gives us the key to the whole affair. Here's our man, our big market operator, carrying upon his person the ultimate cipher of the code. All we have to do is by hook or crook to gain possession of his watch, and we'll have the chance that will never come to three men again as long as the world lasts. So don't stand in the way, Atherton; be a sport."
"It's a simple matter," Atherton replied, "to say, 'get possession of his watch,' but haven't you read stories of treasure chests guarded by some secret contrivance which meant death to those who tried to open them? That's the kind of thing we're up against. Bellingham tried to solve the mystery, and Bellingham is dead. And do you suppose for one instant that if his story is true--if these men have the power he says they have--that we are going to meddle with their secrets and escape unscathed? If you do think so, you were never more mistaken in your life. Why, rather than go ahead as you want us to do, I would take my chance on walking into a powder factory, with a lighted pipe in my mouth and the wind blowing a gale."
Mills nodded solemnly. Life to him was something precious; many delights lay before him through the placid years. "You're right, Atherton," he agreed. "It's tremendously tempting, but this putting your head into the lion's jaws is a dangerous game; if he happens to close them, why--good-by."
Blagden, the dynamic, exploded again. "Oh, you quitters!" he vociferated, "why do you stand in such awe of this gang. I tell you they're only human. The bigger they are, the harder they fall. Under ordinary circumstances, I'll admit that we'd have no show. But see what Fate has done for us. Here is Atherton, in the employ of Marshall Hamilton. Here's Mills, pals with the celebrated Stoat, who claims to be the best little housebreaker in New York. What could be easier than for Atherton to leave a window open, so that Stoat could slip into the house, make his way into Hamilton's bedroom, and get possession of the watch? Easy? Why, it would be child's play."
"But that," objected Mills, "would be only the beginning. Even assuming that we got the watch, as soon as it was missed there would be the devil to pay. Every speculator in the country would be a marked man. We might have the knowledge but would we dare to use it?"
"Tubby," retorted Blagden savagely, "you make me tired. I've considered all the possibilities, and I've decided that there's just one way for us to succeed. Stoat must get the watch, copy the cypher, and then return it again before it's missed. In that way we'll be doing no harm to anyone, and we'll be absolutely safe. Nobody can have the slightest ground for suspicion."
"Oh, that's different," Mills assented. "If we could do that, we'd be all right." But Atherton promptly demurred. "Blagden," he said firmly, "you've got to realize that my position in this whole affair has changed. I'm working for Mr. Hamilton; he has treated me well; and I can't help you out on any such plan as this. It wouldn't be the decent thing."
"Oh, decent be damned," rejoined Blagden with heat. "You went in with us on this adventure scheme; we agreed to stick together; and now that our chance has really come, you refuse to take advantage of it. I don't consider, Atherton, that you're playing square with us."
Atherton's eyes gleamed. "Oh, come," he remonstrated, "I'd go slow with that kind of talk. We went into this together, as you say, but that doesn't mean that we're bound to stick through thick and thin, regardless of whatever circumstances may arise. What do you say, Tubby? Isn't that stretching things beyond all reason?"
"Oh, of course," Mills agreed, "there's a limit somewhere. But I can't see why you should worry about Marshall Hamilton. Apparently, he's nothing but a plain, ordinary robber; the only difference between him and other criminals is that he operates on a larger scale. I don't see where he comes in at all. And as Blagden says, it isn't as though we were harming him. Suppose we get what we're after. All we want is to be let alone until we've made our fortunes; then we can decide whether we dare expose the crowd or not. But for the present, no harm is coming to Hamilton."
"How do you know it isn't?" Atherton insisted. "You're assuming that everything is to result as you plan it. But you can't tell. Even for Stoat, admitting that he's as skillful as we think he is, this is going to be a delicate job. Suppose he makes his way successfully as far as Hamilton's bedroom, and then suppose that Hamilton awakens, that there's a fight, and that Hamilton is killed. What are we then? Murderers, aren't we? Not legally, perhaps, but morally."
"Oh, rot!" cried Blagden contemptuously, "that's not a fair way to argue. Supposing--supposing--why, if you once begin, you can suppose anything you please. We've got to figure on probabilities, not possibilities. And tell me this, Atherton. I don't admit for an instant that you are right, but assuming that you are--assuming the very worst that can happen--why are you so solicitous about Marshall Hamilton? What's his life to you? He is protected by respectability, and that's all. Apart from that, he's a robber, a common plunderer; he's got your money and Tubby's money and mine. He takes the risks of his profession; he can't complain. So I ask you again, why the devil are you so afraid of his being harmed?"
Atherton hesitated. Naturally honest and straightforward, he knew perfectly well in his own mind what his real reasons were--that it was not so much consideration for his employer that influenced him as the fear that something might happen to distress Helen herself. Yet he was loth to admit this, until all at once the keen-witted Blagden, noticing his confusion, suddenly leaped to the correct conclusion.
"I have it!" he cried. "It's not Marshall Hamilton at all; he has nothing to do with it. It's his daughter." And as Atherton's expression confirmed his conjecture, he added savagely, "Look here, man, what a hypocrite you are. Here you pose as a moralist, and all the time you're laying your plans to marry Hamilton's daughter, become independent for life, and then leave Tubby and me in the lurch. That's a pretty trick."
He was thoroughly angered, and like most angry men, had gone too far. Atherton leaped to his feet. "Stop it," he cried, with ominous calm. "Stop it right away. What you're saying is nonsense, every word of it."
"Every word of it," repeated Blagden. "Do you deny that you would like to marry Miss Hamilton?"
Atherton did not hesitate now. "There is no question of marrying anybody," he answered. "I'm not in a position, financially, to think of marriage. If you ask me whether I'm in love with Miss Hamilton, I'll tell you that I most certainly am. But when you talk about marrying and becoming independent, and when you talk about my going back on you and Tubby, then you're simply ranting about what isn't true."
There was a pause, the two eyeing each other like wrestlers about to come to a grapple, while Mills, the lover of harmony, gazed miserably from one to the other, in distress at this sudden disagreement.
"Well," said Blagden at length, "I don't see that your reasons make any difference, anyway; I made a mistake when I brought them into the discussion. But the practical result is that you decline to help us with this scheme. Isn't that the long and short of it?"
"Yes," Atherton admitted, "it is. It's too risky, and it's criminal, and altogether it's a poor game to mix up in. I'm sure we'll do better to let it alone."
"And in the next place," went on Blagden, "to make use of Biblical language, which you, as a moralist, will undoubtedly approve, if you are not with us, are you against us? Will you remain neutral, and let Tubby and myself go ahead with this plan ourselves?"
Atherton shook his head. "No," he replied, "if this were simply a case of robbery, I suppose, under all the circumstances, I shouldn't object to it, but the trouble is that you can't tell where you are going to stop. Therefore, I'm opposed to any such attempt as you propose."
"Very well," said Blagden, "now we know where we stand. Only please don't think you have a monopoly of all the brains in this crowd, because you haven't. And now I'm going to ask you another question. Has it occurred to your pure and youthful mind that the events of last night may have some bearing oh the situation?"
Atherton started. Such a possibility had not occurred to him. "What do you mean by that?" he demanded in his turn.
"Just this," retorted Blagden. "That if worse comes to worse, I mean to take a parting shot at our friend Hamilton by letting his wife know of this little affair of his. His wife--and his daughter."
Atherton's heart sank. "But listen, Blagden," he cried, "you wouldn't do that. Why, that would be rotten, sneaking blackmail. No gentleman could stoop to that."
Blagden grinned. "Then I'm not a gentleman," he scoffed. "How interesting these distinctions are. Your prospective father-in-law is a robber and is unfaithful to his wife, and yet he is a gentleman. It's quite an elastic term. But I'm not proud. I'll forfeit my title to being one. But gentleman or not, if you say that you are going to interfere with my plans, I'll make things hum in the Hamilton family."
"But Mrs. Hamilton," objected Atherton, "is an invalid. News like that might easily kill her. You have no right to make her suffer."
"Oh, that's not my lookout," disclaimed Blagden airily. "Blame her husband, or Fate, or anyone else, but not me. So on the whole, Atherton, don't you think you'd better withdraw your opposition, and let us go ahead?"
Atherton, realizing the difficulty of his position, made no answer. To allow wife and daughter to know of Marshall Hamilton's double life was unthinkable; better far, it seemed, to risk the danger of the attempt to rob the banker of his watch. But while he pondered, suddenly, to his amazement, Blagden's whole manner underwent a complete change, and he burst into laughter.
"Heavens, man, but you take things seriously!" he cried. "I didn't mean what I said. I was only seeing how far I could push the argument. You're quite right; we couldn't take the risk. We'll give up the whole affair, and wait for a better chance."
Atherton stared at him, relieved and yet incredulous. Nor did Mills appear to know whether to believe this sudden change of front was simulated or sincere.
"Good Lord!" he exclaimed, "do you mean you're going to stop now? After all we've been through? That doesn't sound like you, Blagden; you never were a quitter."
Blagden threw him a glance of veiled meaning. "Oh, I don't mind quitting when I have to," he answered. "Atherton's right, and that settles it." He strolled across the room as he spoke, and in his most winning manner laid his hand on Atherton's shoulder. "But you must own up, old man," he said, "that you owe a good deal to me. You seem to be on the crest of the wave now, but don't forget who launched you from the shore. When you're happily married and settled down, I shall come around to the back door and expect a cold meal if I need one."
At once Atherton melted. "I realize everything," he responded, "and if it hadn't been for your energy, I don't know what I should be doing now. I don't want to seem ungrateful, but you can see that I'm in a hard position. I want to do the decent thing by everyone, if I can."
"That's right," Blagden agreed heartily, "and something else is bound to turn up soon. Where can I get hold of you if I want you? How much longer do you stay as chauffeur?"
"Only till Monday," Atherton answered. "After that, write me at the Standard Motor Works till further notice. And now I must be getting home; there's no train for two hours if I miss the next one. No hard feeling, Blagden?"
"Not a bit," Blagden answered. "You're quite right. I didn't agree with you at first, but I do now. Good-by and good luck."
His tone was cordiality itself, but when he had regained the street, Atherton began to wonder whether or not his friend was speaking the truth. As Mills had artlessly phrased it, it "didn't sound like" Blagden; Blagden the bold, the tenacious and the daring. "I'll take no chances," he reflected, "I owe him a great deal, as he said, but I can still keep my eyes open." And if he could have looked back into the room he had just left, and could have heard the flood of vituperation which streamed from Blagden's lips, he would have realized the wisdom of his resolve.