to resume my own part in these matters, you can conceive what a great responsibility devolved upon me in the light of these two last reports. i did not have to have mr. dunsany remind me of it. i was like a player in a close game who holds the best card. the question was when to play it. one may easily hold one's trumps too long. still i could not bear to show my hand without the assurance of taking the king, i.e., the "boss."

so i still held off, though the tension was frightful, particularly on poor dunsany. in every subsequent report he begged me to strike, and take our chance of getting our man through the disclosures sure to be made in the general crash. there was more up on this game than cards were ever played for.

in the meantime i was straining every nerve to pick up a clue to the "boss." i knew that we must get him in the end if we could hold off long enough. i arranged a meeting with the boy blondy, and cross-examined him for hours. the poor youngster was only too anxious to tell me what he knew, but he could not help me.

he said that lorina never sent any of the men to the boss. all communications between them were made without the aid of a third party. some of the men, he said, affected to believe that the boss was a myth invented by lorina to keep them in awe. i had, however, good reason in my reports to know that the boss was a real man.

i put the most skilful woman operative i could procure on lorina's trail. it appeared, however, from her first report that lorina was instantly aware of being watched, and fooled the operative at her pleasure. thus she became a danger to me instead of a help, since lorina with her infernal cleverness might very easily have found a way to intercept our communications. so i discharged the operative two days after i hired her.

in justice to mr. dunsany, who hourly ran such a terrible risk, i now took the police into my confidence. the chief of the detective bureau at this time was lanman, a man i had always respected for his contempt of spectacular methods and his strong sense. i went to see him.

he did not know me, of course. he listened to my story with an incredulous grin. he has an aspect as grim and forbidding as a granite cliff. but as i piled up my evidence, and read from mr. dunsany's report, i shook the cliff. i had the satisfaction of seeing the granite betray excitement.

when i was done he was convinced. he was frankly envious of my luck in obtaining such a case, and of my success with it, but he showed a disposition to play absolutely fair. i had been afraid that he might try to rob me of the fruits of my success with the public.

lanman agreed that it was best to hold off for a day or two longer in the hope of getting the "boss." in the meantime he secured a room at # — fifth avenue on the same floor where lorina had her offices, and there every day during the hours while mr. dunsany was at work, waited six men within call. we next secured quarters in the little hotel three doors from lorina's house, and every night ten of lanman's men were domiciled there. signals were agreed on in case of need.

matters stood thus at the end of the week whose beginning had witnessed the newport robbery. on friday morning irma hamerton came to town again. i witnessed her arrival in the lobby of the rotterdam, which you will remember was her hotel before it had been mine. every one sat up and stared. she was as lovely as only herself, but i thought, looked harassed. mount was attending her like a shadow, smoother, more elegant and more complacent than ever.

with a fanciful, sentimental feeling i had engaged rooms on the same floor of the hotel as irma's. her suite was rented by the year. during the morning as i went to and fro in the corridor of the eleventh floor, i could not help but notice an unusual stir in the neighbourhood of irma's rooms. messengers were flying, packages arriving, and the switchboard busy.

there is a telephone switchboard on each floor of the rotterdam, opposite the elevators. in addition to answering the calls, the operator is supposed to keep an eye on things generally. while i was waiting for the elevator i asked the girl on our floor what was the cause of the excitement. she said she didn't know, but said it with a simper and a toss of the head that added to my uneasiness. downstairs i asked the clerk with whom i was on friendly terms, but with no better success.

while i was hanging around the lobby, irma and mount came down. they took a taxi at the door. following a sudden impulse i engaged the next in line, and ordered the driver to follow them. they led me through the maze of down-town traffic direct to the municipal building. they disappeared in the bureau of marriage licenses, and my worst fears were confirmed.

this time i determined to act without consulting my passionate, headstrong friend. i hastened back to the hotel. i had evidence that the ceremony was to be performed there, most likely the same afternoon. i wrote irma a note begging her to see me privately on a matter of the greatest importance. i signed it with my assumed name boardman, but i had worded it in such a way that she would know it was from me. moreover she knew my handwriting. i sent it to her room in advance of her return. there was a chance of course that some one else might open it, but i knew she made a general practice of opening her own letters.

a little before two o'clock, i got a summons and hastened to her suite. she started back dubiously at the sight of me, but i soon identified myself. she was alone. the room was filled with orange blossoms. the scent sickened me.

"where is mr. mount?" i asked.

"i sent him away for an hour," she answered, blushing.

"are we quite alone?"

"bella and marie are in my bedroom. that is two rooms away."

bella was mrs. bleecker; marie her maid.

"laying out your wedding-dress, i suppose," said i.

she started and blushed deeply. "you know?" she murmured.

"is it a secret?"

"not from you. i didn't know where to reach you by phone."

there was a somewhat painful silence. i did not feel inclined to make things easy for her.

"aren't you—aren't you going to congratulate me?" she murmured at last.

"no," i said bluntly.

she looked at me full of surprise and pain, like a hurt child, but i was hurt, too, and impenitent.

"oh, irma, how could you?" i cried at last. it was the first time i had ever addressed her so. at the moment neither of us noticed it.

my question confused her. "i—i don't know," was her strange answer.

presently she recovered herself somewhat. "why shouldn't i?" she demanded, showing fight.

i shrugged. "i don't know. i have no reasons. you should be guided by your instinct."

"he is good to me," she said defiantly.

"naturally, he sees his interest."

i can't remember all that was said on both sides. the conversation was sufficiently painful. she was no match for me. finally she began to tremble.

"why did you leave me?" she faltered. "i asked you to help me. you have avoided me all these weeks. i needed you. it's cruel and useless for you to come now, when it is too late and—and——"

"i have been working for you!" i cried. "i thought i could trust your instinct."

"i had no intention of marrying at first," she said. "you saw a while ago what was coming. why didn't you speak then if you had anything to say. it's too late now."

"it's never too late if you have a doubt," i cried.

"but he—alfred will be here at four," she stammered, "and the clergyman—and my friends——"

"let alfred go away again," i said coolly.

her eyes widened like a frightened child's. "i dare not!" she whispered. "you don't know! he is a terrible man!"

"i'll back you up," i said.

"no! no!" she cried. "i will not! i cannot! please go!"

i took a new tack.

"why don't you ask me the result of my work the last few weeks?" i asked.

"what do you mean?"

i had brought for the purpose, that report of mr. dunsany's in which foxy had told how the theft of irma's pearls had been accomplished. i explained to irma how this report had been secured, and then i read it to her. joy and horror struggled together in her face.

"you knew this long ago!" she cried accusingly. "why didn't you tell me before?"

"roland forbade it. i am breaking my word to him in telling you now."

"he no longer cares then what i think!"

i shrugged.

she walked up and down the room like one distraught.

"knowing that roland is innocent would you dare to marry mount?" i asked.

"it is too late!" she cried.

at this moment we were warned by a sound in the next room to pull ourselves together. the door opened and mrs. bleecker's fawning countenance appeared in the opening.

"oh, i beg your pardon," she said, cringing. "i didn't know you were still engaged." she did not withdraw, however, but favoured me with a good, long stare.

i never saw the gentle irma so angry. "leave the room!" she commanded. "i told you i was not to be disturbed!"

if she had always taken the same tone with that woman it would have been better for her. mrs. bleecker precipitately retired.

irma continued to pace the floor. "what shall i do?" she murmured, twisting her hands together. "i have not the strength to face him out."

"don't try," i suggested.

"what do you mean?"

"beat it," i said in homely slang.

a gleam of light, of mischief appeared in her tortured face. "but how?—where? will you go with me?" she cried breathlessly. "what will i do about the women here? what explanation shall i make?"

"one thing at a time!" i protested. "make no explanation. you are your own mistress. if you like you can leave alfred a note saying you have changed your mind. as to the women——"

"i can trust marie."

"very well. send mrs. bleecker out on an errand. no trouble to invent an errand at this juncture. you can be gone when she returns."

"will you come with me?"

i shook my head. "matters are rapidly approaching a crisis," i said. "i must stay on the job."

"but where will i go?"

"that's up to you. i can only offer a suggestion——"

"yes! yes! don't tease me."

"you have a difficult time ahead of you. i think you need a man's support."

a crimson tide swept up from her neck.

"i would put on my oldest and plainest suit," i went on wickedly, "and go register at some quiet little hotel, the last place they would think of looking for you. i will give you the name of such a place. at five-thirty this afternoon i would go to a certain horrible cheap little restaurant known as the american café, which is on third avenue near sixteenth street. half-past five remember, and just see what happens."

"if you would only come with me—i mean as far as the door," she murmured in confusion.

"too risky," i said. "mind i do not guarantee anything in any event. it's up to you. a certain young friend of ours has the pride of lucifer, and you have made a ghastly wound in it. you will have to humble yourself shockingly."

in her present mood i saw she was quite ready to do that.

"this is what i'm counting on," i went on. "pride is pretty poor fare. let him act as high and mighty as he likes, he's really starving for all that makes life worth living. the unexpected sight of you ought to be like a feast to his eyes. i'm hoping he'll fall to, before his damnable pride has a chance to bring up reserves. one thing more. if anything prevents him from supping there as usual, he lives at # — east seventeenth street."

"are you sure he loves me still?" she whispered.

"not at all sure," i said coolly. "you'll have to go and find out. if you've lost him, you've lost a lover that was worth a woman's while."