AN APPARITION
"Don't look so scared!" she said to me. "I'm only on your hands a minutes; a left to be called for."
I had them to me at our old table, with its telephone extension, the girl with for no one but Worth, who helped her out of her now with a air and,
"Shed the coat, Bobs," adding as he seated her him, "The luck of luck that I on you here this evening."
That the color into her face; the rose under her skin almost with the of light, until that midnight of hers was as as one of those dark of the antipodes.
"Yes," she said softly, with a that set two in the pink of her cheeks, "wasn't it our meeting this way?" Worth wasn't looking at her. He'd a waiter, ordered a pot of black coffee, and was its approach. "I didn't go to the wedding, but Ina herself me to come here to-night. I had a mind not to; then at the last minute I I would—and I met you!"
Worth nodded, sat there in a study while the waiter our coffee. The minute the man left us alone, he to her with,
"I've got a for you."
"A—a stunt?"
The light failed in her face; her mouth with its soft, molding, its vivid, red, like the of a child, a at the clean-cut corners. A small hand the of her blouse; it was almost as if she it over a heart.
"Yes," he nodded. "Jerry's got something in his pocket that'll be for you."
She to me a look angry and piteous—the she would not on him.
"Is—is Mr. Boyne in stunts—such as I used to do?"
"Sure," Worth agreed. "We are. We—"
"Oh, that was why you wanted me to come with you?" She had got of herself now. She was more poised, but still resentful.
"Bobs," he cut across her mood to what he wanted, "Jerry Boyne is going to read you something it took about 'steen people to see—and you'll give us the answer." I didn't his confidence, but I it as he finished, the tongs, "One lump, or two?"
Of I what he meant. My hand was already in my pocket for the of Clayte. The girl looked as though she wasn't going to answer him; she moved to her chair. Worth's only of her was to put out a hand quietly, touch her arm, not once looking at her, and say in a tone,
"Steady, Bobs." And then, "Did you say one or two?"
"None." Her voice was audible, but I saw she was going to stay; that Worth was to have his way, to from her the opinion he wanted—whatever that might amount to. And I passed the paper to him, suggesting,
"Let her read it. This is too public a place to be a thing of the sort."
She a minute then gave it such a of a that I she'd what it was, she to mine and asked coldly,
"Why shouldn't that be read—shouted every ten minutes by the traffic officer at Market and Kearny? They'd only think he was every other man in the Palace Hotel."
I and chuckled. After a glance, this girl had on what I'd of the Clayte description.
"Is that all? May I go now, Worth?" she said, still with that dashed, look from one of us to the other. "If you'll just put me on a Haight Street car—I won't wait for—" And now she a movement to rise; but again Worth her by the touch of his on her sleeve.
"Wait, Bobs," he said. "There's more."
"More?" Her on Worth's talked louder than her tongue, but that also as he looked at her and nodded. "Stunts!" she his word bitterly. "I didn't you to come me to do stunts. I it all so—working out like a calculating machine!" Her voice to a undertone. "Nobody of me as human, with feelings. I have never—done—one stunt—since my father died."
She didn't weaken. She sat there and looked Worth in the eye, yet there was a of big in her refusal, a from resentment, that had in it not so much a girl's as the of a heart.
"But, Bobs," Worth at her trouble, about the same careless, good-natured he had little Pete when he him the quarter, "suppose you possibly save me a hundred thousand a minute?"
"Then it's not just a stunt?" She settled slowly in her chair.
"Certainly not," I said. "This is business—with me, anyhow. Miss Wallace, why do you think a like that be on the without any one being the wiser?"
"Was it to be a description?" she asked, her a bit.
"The best we from sixteen or eighteen people, most of have the man a long time; some of them for eight years."
"And no one—not one of all these people him?"
"I've done my best at them."
She gave me one straight, level look, and I a little at the way those black saw into a fellow. But she put no query, and I had the of that she was I'd no in the that to make up that description. Then she to Worth.
"You said I might save you a of money. Has the man you're trying here to anything to do with money—in large amounts—financial of importance?"
Again the little girl had scored with me. To a like Clayte, alone, such an job was ridiculous. From the first, my mind had been after the others—the big-brained criminals, the he was. She saw this, but Worth answered her.
"He's a financier, Bobs. He walked off with nearly a cash to-day."
"From you?" with a quick breath.
"I'm the main if he away with it."
"Tell me about it."
And Worth gave her a account of the and his own in the affair. She now, those great big with the of it. With her there was no over Worth's in a unseen. I had guessed, but she and unquestioningly. When he had finished, she said solemnly,
"You know, don't you, that, if you've got your right—if these you've told me are square, of fact—they prove Clayte among the men of the world?"
Worth's big out and her little hand that on the table's edge.
"Now we're somewhere," he her. As for me, I snorted.
"Wonderful man, my eye! He's got a him."
"Oh, you should have told me that you know there is a gang, Mr. Boyne," she said simply. "Of course, then, the result is different."
"Well," I hedged, "there's a all right. But there wasn't, how would you any in a as near nothing as this Clayte?"
She sat and for a moment, lines on the table top, looking up at me with a of the lids, a of the lips, which gave an look of power to her face.
"In that case, Clayte would be one of the men of the world," she her with the placid, soft of falling, snow. "Didn't you stop a minute—one little minute, Mr. Boyne—to think it that a man so of as that—" she a across the of Clayte—"Didn't you add up in your mind all that you told me about the men as to which he his on, he shoes or black, a or derby, or didn't,—absolutely nothing left as to of face, figure, movement, expression, manner or to catch the of one single among the sixteen or eighteen you questioned—surely you added that up, Mr. Boyne? What result did you get?"
"Nothing," I admitted. "To you repeat it, of it as if the man was a freak. But he wasn't. He was just one of those that are commonplace, and through life without any marks put on 'em."
"And is it nothing that this man a in a bank without at all on the circle of his nothingness? Remained so that neither the president can, after eight years' association, tell the color of his and eyes? Then add the that he is the one in the bank without a photograph and on record with your agency—what result now, Mr. Boyne?"
"A coincidence," I said, hastily.
"Don't, please, Mr. Boyne!" her as she her mild sarcasm. "Admit that he has to be a and a marvel."
"As you put it—" I began, but she cut in on me with,
"I haven't put it yet. Listen." She was still, but it was plain she was in earnest. "When this cipher—this nought—this zero—manages to to himself a that doesn't to him, his a meaning. The zero is an in mathematics. I think we have a the long of of Clayte's nothingness."
"Nothing and nothing—make nothing." I spoke more I was by her logic. "You called the turn when you spoke of him as a zero. There are to be added, but they're the that planned and helped—and used zero Clayte as their tool. You're talking of those digits, not Clayte."
"I Bobs'll them for you, Jerry—if you'll let her," said Worth.
"Oh, I'll let do anything"—a nettled. "I'm to have our friend Clayte take his place, with the and the gardens of Babylon, among the earth's wonders; but you've got to me."
"All right." Worth gave the girl a look that something of that rose into her cheeks. "I'm on her. Go to it, Bobsie—let him in on your mathematical logic."
"You used the word 'coincidence,' Mr. Boyne." She across toward me, bright, little marking her points. "Allow one coincidence—that the only description, the only photograph missing from your are those of the self-effacing Clayte. To-day Clayte has proved to be a thief—"
"In seven figures," Worth in, and she at him.
"You would call that another coincidence, Mr. Boyne?"
I nodded, unable at the moment to think of a word to use.
"Two coincidences," she on,—"we are still in mathematics—you can't add. They by into the impossible."
The phone rang. While I to answer it, my mind was still a to this. The call was from Foster, just in from Ocean View and for instructions. Covering the with my hand, I told Worth the and asked,
"Any suggestions?"
"Not I," he his head. I added, a sarcastically,
"Or you, Miss Wallace?"
"Yes," she me. "Have your man Foster three who have Edward Clayte; from them the color of his and eyes; tell him to have them be exact about it."
"Fine! But you know they'll not agree, any more than the other people agreed."
"Oh, yes they will," she laughed at me a little. "Don't you notice that a girl always says a blue-eyed man or a brown-eyed man? That's what she sees when she meets him, and it in her mind. Girls and out people by types; small in color something to them."
I didn't keep Foster waiting any longer.
"Hello," I spoke into the transmitter. "Get and out any of the bank, stenographers, scrub-women there, or whatever, and ask them particularly as to the exact of Clayte's and eyes. Get Mrs. Griggsby again at the St. Dunstan. I want at least three who can give these points exactly. Exactly, understand?"
He did, and I thanked Miss Wallace for her suggestion.
"Now that," I said, "is what I want; a good, practical idea—"
"And it won't be a of use in the world to you," she laughed across the table into my eyes. "Why, Mr. Boyne, you've out already that there are too many Edward Claytes, speaking in physical terms, for you to one by description. There are three of him here, of our table right now—and the place isn't crowded."
I in agreement, and nothing to say. It was Worth who spoke.
"Like to have you go a step in this, if you would," and when she her head, he on a sharply. "See here, Bobs; you and I used to be pals, didn't we?" She nodded, her look brightening. "Well then, here's the biggest game I've been up against since I out of the and my uniform. I come to you and give you the high-sign—and you me down. You don't want to play with me—is that it?"
"Oh, Worth! I do. I do want to play with you," she was almost in now. "But you see, I didn't understand. I as though you were of me through my paces."
"Sure not," Worth it at her like a urchin. "I'm having the time of my life with this thing, and I want to take you in on it."
"If—if you fail you a of money; wasn't that what you said?" she questioned.
"Oh, yes," he nodded, "Nothing in it if there weren't a gamble."
"And if he out, he makes a pile," I added.
"What I want of you now," he explained, "is to go with us to Clayte's room at the St. Dunstan—the room he from—look it over and tell us how he got out and where he went."
He his light-heartedly; she it after the same fashion; it to me all absurdity.
"To-morrow morning—Sunday," she said. "No office to-morrow," she the last of her black coffee slowly. "All the of the there will be about Edward Clayte are in that room—aren't they?" Her voice was musing; she looked ahead of her as she softly, "What time do we go?"
"Early. Does nine o'clock you?" Worth didn't at me as he this for us both. "We'd up there now if it wasn't so late."
"I've no you'll the place with and with and ciphers." I couldn't from her a little. She took it with a across the room, looked a little surprised, and rose with,
"Why, there they are for me now."
I couldn't see that she might mean, a man who had walked the length of the place talking to the waiter, and now at the of what had been Bronson Vandeman's supper table. This man had his attention to us, turned, looked, and in the moment of his I saw that it was Cummings. There was not the tight-lipped under that of his.
"Good evening." He looked at our faces, none of the he felt, the two do for to us all, and, as it seemed, to me, an of as well. The lady first.
"Oh, Mr. Cummings, did they send you for me? Where are the others?"
She had come to her feet, and for the which Worth was more as if he meant to keep it than put it on her.
"I left your waiting in the machine," Cumming's and look a plain hurry-up. Worth took his time about the coat, and spoke low to the girl while he helped her into it.
"You'll go with us to-morrow morning?"
She gave me one of those that the in her cheeks.
"If Mr. Boyne wants me. He hasn't said yet."
"Do I need to?" I asked. The question reasonable. There she stood, such a very girl, her two who looked at each other with all the that to the situation. She on both, and didn't neglect me. I settled the with,
"Worth has your address; we'll call for you in my machine." And I got the idea that Cummings was questions about it as he away her arm.
"Do you think the little girl will be of any use?" I spoke to the of Worth's as he to after them.
"Sure. I know she will." He his in among the coffee service, and we moved toward the desk. "Sure she will," he repeated. "Wonder where she met Cummings."
